#best designed short sets for women

[trendybucket]

Kurtis: The Fashionable Bridge Between Generations

One of the most captivating aspects of fashion is its cyclical nature, where old styles get revamped and reintroduced, capturing hearts all over again. Standing tall amidst such cyclical trends is the kurti, an attire that beautifully bridges the gap between yesteryears and today. While grandmothers reminisce about their classic ladies kurta designs, today's youth can't get enough of the modern kurti top. Let's embark on a journey to understand how kurtis have seamlessly weaved their way through generations, remaining ever-relevant and ever-stylish.

From the bylanes of ancient bazaars to the digital catalogs of modern e-stores, Stylish Kurti For Women have seen a transformation like no other attire. Yet, they've retained an essence that resonates with wearers across age groups. For the elderly, a ladies kurta might evoke memories of simpler times, paired with traditional handcrafted jewelry and classic chappals. Meanwhile, the youth might perceive the kurti top as the go-to outfit for college, dates, or casual hangouts, paired with sneakers, statement earrings, and perhaps a stylish sling bag.

This universality of the stylish kurti for women lies in its inherent adaptability. Modern designers, recognizing the timeless appeal of the ladies kurta, have continuously experimented with cuts, designs, and fabrics. The result? A multitude of kurti top styles range from peplum, high-low, A-line, to even off-shoulder and cold-shoulder variants. Such innovations have kept the kurti pulsating with freshness, ensuring it never fades into obscurity.

Additionally, collaborations between traditional artisans and contemporary designers have given birth to kurtis that celebrate age-old embroideries like Chikankari, Phulkari, and Kantha while embracing modern aesthetics. This symbiotic relationship preserves age-old crafts and presents them in a format palatable to the younger generation.

Another aspect that underscores the lasting allure of kurtis is their unspoken promise of comfort. Whether it's a luxurious silk ladies kurta for festive occasions or a breathable cotton kurti top for daily wear, there's an implicit assurance of ease and convenience. This comfort, combined with style, makes the kurti a formidable choice for women of all ages.

Personalizing the Kurti Experience In an era where individual expression reigns supreme, the kurti offers a canvas like no other. DIY (Do It Yourself) enthusiasts are reimagining the traditional ladies kurta to align with their unique personalities. From hand-painted designs to sewn-on patches and even embroidered quotes, the kurti top is undergoing personalized transformations. Social media is abuzz with tutorials on giving a fresh spin to a plain kurti top, with fashion influencers leading the charge.

Summary: Stylish kurti for women, with its rich historical roots and modern adaptability, serves as a fashionable bridge between generations. Its enduring appeal lies in its ability to evolve while retaining its essence, making it a cherished attire for both the young and the old.

Conclusion: Fashion trends might come and go, but the kurti remains steadfast, echoing stories of the past while crafting new tales for the future. It's not just a piece of clothing; it's a legacy passed down, a testament to timeless elegance and style.

Authors Bio: The author of this article has a keen interest in fashion and gives productive advice on attire. This conclusion comes with a thorough research for a better understanding of the readers who wish to pursue a new fashionable lifestyle.

#kurti for women #short kurtis for women #kurti set for women #kurti top #long kurtis for women #stylish kurti for women #cotton kurti for women #designer kurti for women #kurtis for women online #women kurti online #formal kurti for women #stylish kurta for women #branded kurtis online #straight kurti for women #best cotton kurtis online #best kurtis for women #branded kurtis for ladies #stylish kurti for ladies #kurta #ladies kurtis

[littledovesnow]

a snow wedding | young!corioulanus x fem!reader

a/n: you'll never guess who officiates their wedding lmao

word count: 1.8k (i could have gone on for like 10k honestly weddings are so fun to writ)

content warnings: ooc!coriolanus, coryo is nicer in my fics than the book/movie (more of the coriolanus at the start of the movie tbh), some hinting at bedroom festivites

You know,” you looked in the mirror at your maid of honor. “I always thought you and Coryo would be the two at the end of the aisle reciting vows.”

Clemensia choked on her mimosa, laughter bubbling over the glass. “The way he’s always looked at you? Absolutely no doubt in my mind you two would end up together.” She replied, setting the flute over and walking over to you.

You peered over at the pristine white gown hanging up, still just as beautiful as when you picked it out two months ago.

Coriolanus had proposed almost a year ago, wanting nothing more than to finally call you Mrs. Snow. “It would make me the happiest man in the Capitol, the country.”

You nodded furiously, watching as he slid the exquisite gold band adorned with a halo of small diamonds around a larger stone. It was a lavish ring, one you assumed he had ruminated over after securing a permanent position in the Citadel alongside Dr. Gaul.

A knock on the door broke up the conversation between the two women, Tigris popping her head into the makeshift bridal suite. “Just checking to see if you need anything before I go down to meet Grandma’am.”

“Tigris, this gown is to die for!” Clemensia praised the tailor, whose cheeks flushed like she had spent weeks in the sun.

“It’s just something I threw together.”

“Oh, don’t be modest, Tigris. It’s one of the most beautiful designs I’ve seen some out of your studio.” You smiled, pulling Tigris into the room more. “But I do have one thing you might have to help me with.”

“What might that be?”

You gestured to the gown, spinning to look at the two most important women in your life. “Can you ladies help me get into this dress? The corset looks like a game Coryo would make up in the Games.”

Clemensia laughed, and Tigris clapped enthusiastically, setting her purse on the pristine couch in the corner.

-----

Coriolanus messed with the cuff links he had purchased for the day exclusively, looking at the small photograph of his mother he kept in his wallet. It was new for him, carrying a wallet around.

He had only a few things in there, his Citadel ID card, a few hundred dollars­—pocket change for him nowadays—and the crumbled notebook paper he had written his vows on one day in the lab while Dr. Gaul met with President Ravenstill and Dean Highbottom.

They were messy, lines crossed out and words in the margins, and Coriolanus was fairly certain his sweaty palm had rubbed a few lines into illegible scribbles. He wouldn’t need them, though, he’s stared at this paper for weeks, the words engrained into his mind for the rest of his days.

He looked up when he heard a knock on his door, his best man stepping into the room.

“You just about ready?” Festus asked, looking around at the mostly bare room. “I think your grandmother is about ready to charge into the bridal suite and wed the two of you.”

If asked who he would think would be his best man at his wedding, Coriolanus Snow would never have said Festus Creed, but after the 10th Hunger Games and his short Peacekeeping stint, the two grew close, something akin to friendship.

“It was Grandma’am’s idea to have an evening ceremony.” Coriolanus muttered mostly to himself, but he tucked his wallet and vows back into his pocket, nodding at the curly-haired man.

“I am ready.”

-----

Delicately rubbing your sweaty palm on your dress, you peered through the small opening between two columns, trying to get a peek at your soon-to-be husband.

“Oh, you’ll see him soon enough!” Lysistrata Vickers smiled at you, bringing you into a hug.

You, Clemensia, and Lysistrata had all grown closer after your mentorship in the Games, going so far as to become friends and spend weekend trips in Districts One and Two on occasion.

“I haven’t seen him all weekend, Lyssie! He wouldn’t even tell me what color his suit is. All I know is that it complements his eyes, and I got that from Tigris!”

Clemensia and Lysistrata shared a knowing look, having seen Coriolanus’ tuxedo as they wished him a good morning in passing.

“He looks exquisite, I hope that makeup is waterproof because I know you’ll be a puddle as soon as you see him!”

Your grin nearly split your face in two, preparing to seal your fate as a Snow.

Clemensia took your hand and gave it a squeeze, stepping up to walk down the aisle with you since neither of your parents were able to.

Lysistrata marched down the split of chairs first, grinning ear-to-ear as she met up with her own husband, Festus downright devouring her with his eyes.

You took a deep breath as you turned around the corner, eyes dancing from one side of the room to the other.

You and Coriolanus wanted to have a smaller audience in person, with a majority of the Capitol and Districts tuning into the wedding live on TV.

Dr. Gaul, who you and Coriolanus had asked to officiate the wedding, had a positively radiant smile on her face, a rarity for the woman. But how could she not, her two star pupils were getting married today.

You finally locked eyes with your fiancé, you Coriolanus, your Coryo. Most would take the look on his face for a smirk, but you knew the man you were about to marry, you knew he was holding back a million-watt smile.

Before you knew it, you were at the end of the aisle, Clemensia squeezing your hand and taking the bouquet of red and white roses, giving you the chance to smooth the skirt of your gown.

“Hi.” You whispered, cheeks beginning to ache from your smile.

Coriolanus chuckled softly, taking both of your hands in his own, giving them a squeeze. “Hi, gorgeous.”

Dr. Gaul, who was perhaps the only one close enough to hear the small greetings, looked at you both to make sure it was okay for her to begin.

“Today, we are here to celebrate the union of two of Panem’s most important people, two people who I have gotten to know throughout their time at the Academy, University, and mentorship.”

The ceremony was shorter than some other weddings you had been to, with you and Coriolanus wanting to share vows in private, not wanting the nation to listen in, wanting to keep some things between the two of you.

Before you knew it, Dr. Gaul was announcing you two as the Snows, the crowd erupting into cheers as you and Coriolanus shared your first kiss as a married couple.

-----

With the ceremony over, you and Coriolanus had a short period of time before the reception, taking place in one of the grandest ballrooms in the Capitol. There would be more people at the reception than there were at the ceremony, with Coriolanus getting ready to run for election in the coming months, so you knew you had to be on your best behavior and help pull the votes in for your husband.

“What’re you thinking about, wife?” Coriolanus asked, lovesick smile on his face as he referred to you as his wife for the first time.

“Hmm?” You asked, shaking your head like an Etch-a-Sketch. “Nothing, just how lucky I am that you’re my husband.”

“Oh? I thought I was the lucky one.” Coriolanus replied, leaning in to kiss you in the back of the luxury car, which was taking you to the reception hall.

You couldn’t help the blush that tinted your cheeks. “Coryo,” you murmured, slipping off the bright red heels you had picked out to wear to the reception, Coriolanus grinning up at you from between your legs as you had brought the idea up one night a few weeks ago.

“How does it feel, to be a Snow?” Coriolanus asked, knowing glint in his eyes.

“Feels like I’m worth a million bucks.”

Coriolanus laughed, fixing his bowtie as the car pulled up to the entrance, groaning when he saw Lucky Flickerman and his parade of cameras.

You knew better than to say anything to the weatherman-turned-host, leaving it all up to Coriolanus, who greeted the cameras with a stiff smile and a “it feels wonderful, something I’ve always dreamt of” when asked how it felt being married.

Entering the reception, you and Coriolanus were greeted with cheers, clapping, and a few wolf whistles.

You two did first rounds greeting the more important people in the room, people you two had known since you were both children.

Tigris squealed so loud you and Coriolanus both winced at the pitch, but laughed as she clapped and hugged you two. “Officially part of the family! I’ve always wanted a sister!”

“Tigris, we aren’t even siblings.” Coriolanus chuckled, hand around your waist and thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly.

You lightly slapped the man’s chest. “Oh, hush. She’s been a sister to me since we first started dating.”

Tigris took your hand, admiring the new addition to your left ring finger. Next to the engagement ring now sat a white gold wedding band, matching the one that now adorned Coriolanus’ left hand.

You promised to have a girl’s night with Tigris as Coriolanus dragged you away, knowing you two would be talking all night if he didn’t break up the conversation while there was a lull.

The two of you ended up in front of Casca Highbottom, who was unusually well-groomed, beard tame and hair gelled. “Well, I guess you can thank me for this.”

“Pardon?” You asked, feeling Coriolanus tense at the elder’s words.

“If it wasn’t for my thinking of the Hunger Games, you two would never have spoken a word to each other.”

Coriolanus did nothing more than give a short smile to the man, thanking him for his wedding gift before you two left him to his morphling and posca.

“Why did you invite him, Coryo?” You asked, finally being able to sit for a moment.

“It would have looked bad to not have my father’s best friend here. The man technically did is the reason we’re where we are now.”

You shrugged, agreeing with Coriolanus. “Come on, I want some cake.”

Coriolanus laughed, following you towards the four-tiered red-velvet cake.

------

Collapsing onto the bed, you sighed contently as you toed off the red heels you had been dancing in all night.

“What do you think, shall we spend our first night married as we did the last night as an unmarried couple?” Coriolanus asked, already shedding his clothing.

“Oh, I like the way you think.” You smiled, sitting up. “But you have to help me undo this corset before anything.”

a/n: maybe some good angst next? what do you think my little snakes my little rainbow fiends

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #hunger games tbosas #hunger games imagine #hunger games x reader

[caramelcleopatraa]

i. SUIT & TIE

word count: 1,700~

x: this fic idea won in the polls :) this series was inspired by kayjayxchar on wattpad ( she's A1 ) and then while writing, I decided to make this into sort of a series. no smut in this part ( I know I know, its such a tragedy! ) but don't underestimate what I got in the works :p not proofread... yet

content: Mafia!Roman Reigns x Designer!Reader, fluff, suggestive themes ( gets a lil steamy ;) )

 Your fingers type away at your computer, responding to emails from your clients. Your employees are setting up the shop, preparing for another busy day. You were one of the top rated designers in the state of Florida. You’ve been able to travel around the country teaching classes, working your magic for top notch celebrities, and make public appearances. To cut it short, you were living your best life, truly. You got to do what you were passionate about and go against the standard of your families’ traditions and values. You were proud of yourself that you are successful as you are. The chime of your door interrupts your thoughts as a group of people walk into your shop before opening time.

“Wassup biiiiiittch!” One of your closest friends, Trinity, was the first to make herself known. She throws herself on you, and you welcome her sudden embrace. She often visited you at your shop to check on you in her free time, and you always welcomed her company, especially on busy days. Today however, she was coming to you as a client. Because she was your friend and today was one of your busiest days, you told her to come an hour and a half early before you opened. That gave you plenty of time to fit your friends, clean up, and open on time. You scan the group that entered through the door with her. You saw Trinity, her husband Jimmy, his twin Jey and his wife Talia. Your eyes shifted to the larger frame that stood behind them, that was accompanied by a shorter, voluptuous woman. It was someone you knew too well. Anyone that lived in Florida had to know his name. Roman Reigns. standing next to him, was what looked like a model, which you would later know to be De’arra. The group of six admired your shop, casually walking around and scouting different designs that were displayed on the walls. 

Men’s Side

Women’s Side 

“No matter how many times I come in here, I'm always shocked. Is this new?” Jey says, pointing to the gray suits on your model displays. “Yeah, new in stock. Ya like it?” You sing shakily as Trinity rocked you to death. “Can I take this off ya hands?” “You can after i fit you” You chuckled at his eagerness.

“Annyways..” Talia says, pushing her way through Jimmy and Jey. “This is Roman. I told him that I know a really good designer that can whip up an amazing suit. So he’s here to get fitted as well as the rest of us.” Talia explains to you, while you finish typing up your last email. You look up to find him staring at you. You notice his chocolate brown eyes and brown skin that complimented each other. You try your best to not let that distract you as you reach your hand towards him. You didn’t think he would’ve actually shaken your hand due to how cold people described him to be. You contentedly grinned when his warm hand engulfed yours. “Nice to meet you, beautiful” “Nice to meet you too, handsome.” ‘oh my god he’s so damn fine. how am i supposed to stay professional around this man!??’

Your poker face stayed true as you continued to engage with your client. De’arra, stayed close to him, latched on at the arm. She pulled on his arm to get his attention, but he simply dismissed her by saying “Wait over there for me sweets”, and she happily obliged. 

“So how does this whole thing work?” He says, tugging at his black tee. “You’ve never gotten fitted here before and my place runs a little differently than most. We have our scheduled appointments set up so that we can fit our clients, try on potential outfits for you, and send you home with them hours later. There’s a huge inventory that I have attached to this store so as soon as I get done recording your requests, we can get your order started as soon as possible. Any questions?” Roman smiles smugly and looks at Talia “She’s good.” Talia retaliates with “I told you so.” You blushed at their nice comments. To you, it didn’t seem like much. You were simply explaining how your company works so that your client has a basic rundown of how things work. Trinity nudged your shoulder as soon as she noticed your flustered state. You covered your face and did a quick spin, a little habit that formed when you get flustered. The group laughed at your small action. You snapped back into business mode and called your assistant to help you distribute the party of five.

“Aahkilah, can you help me with this party of five?”

 “Coming!” She galloped out to the main area with a work outfit that was damn near cutting dress code, but you didn’t have time to deal with that shit right now. “You can take the couples since they have been fitted before. Be flexible enough to make changes on the spot if our presets don’t fit like they’re supposed to. I’ll take Roman and do the whole process since he’ll be new information in the system.” She was fairly new, and you didn’t trust her just yet with doing an entire fitting appointment on a new client. Plus, you could tell everything that you were saying was going over her head as she basically eye-fucked your client. “But that’s not fairrrruuh! why can’t I take him?” she says, almost mimicking a complaining child. Your eyes close slowly as you sigh and respond “Because you’re not ready to give a full fitting appointment yet.” 

You wanted to put a nail in this conversation so you could do your job. But, this woman had a damn mission. “You just wanna get him in your private fitting room and fuck him!! You’re not slic-" “ He came here for a fitting! A fitting done by me girl! It was his request. Please don’t make me have to deal with a child right now.” You were starting to get loud, so you didn’t go back and forth with her like you usually would to whip that bitch into shape. The twins were barely succeeding at hiding their laughter as well as Talia. Roman and Trinity wore smirks on their faces as you reprimanded your employee. She finally buckled down and made sure that the room was ready for the couples. You called in another employee, Gio, to help you with your workload online while you fit your client.

“Oh my god who is that-“ You hit her and stop her sentence and she looks at you like you're crazy. “What!? He’s fine as fuck!” You mentally facepalm as she tries to whisper to you, that ends up more like a whisper scream. “Mhm” You said, as you went behind your desk and pulled up some work for her to do. “Oh don’t tell me you don’t think he’s fine! isn’t he right up your alley? Tall? muscular? deep voice? beard? The whole nine?” You took pride in the fact that you took time to know your employees on a personal level. You did not think she was going to air out all of the information you told her however. You gave Gio a look that screamed ‘shut the FUCK up’ and she responded to your look by playfully rolling her eyes. You turn the computer towards her. “You’re here to get a bag, not play matchmaker” She groans in response and says “Whatever.” to your dismissive comment. ‘she did not have to embarrass me like that. OMG WHAAT THE FU-‘

“The whole nine huh?” You hear a deep voice mirror your employee’s statement. You turn around to face Roman, the corner of his lips still curled into that mind melting smirk. He motioned up and down his body, trying to fluster you. Your eyes drift over his muscular body. “Little ole me?” ‘LITTLE?’ 

“Little?” Your face contorted into a confused expression, that earns a laugh out of the tall samoan. He starts to walk towards you, decreasing the amount of space between you too. Your momma ain’t raise no bitch so you stood your ground… well, you tried. You could clearly distinguish the height difference between you and him, and your head raised as your eyes met his. Your hand rested on your hip and your head tilted, slightly sizing him up. “Sir, I will let you know that this is a professional business.” You said, ending off your sentence with a smirk. Just as you expected, he challenged you back, “Well I'm not invading your personal space, am I?” He said, as the corner of his lips tugged to form another smirk. Anyone in the room would have felt the tension and both of you were desperately waiting on someone to make a move. “Nah, i just don't want a wannabe gangsta playboy fucking up my reputation.” His eyes fluttered closed as he laughed at your statement. You had amused him and peaked his interest. He closed the gap between you two. His breath ghosted over your lips as he said, “So you must know i’m good at fucking something else up, huh?” His eyes glazed over your soft lips, coated with lip gloss. You took a moment to gather yourself before prompting another response. ”Well I wouldn't know cause it’s just rumors.” You shrugged your shoulders looking off to the side. 

“You know how those be.”

“Mhm” He licked his lips. From how close you guys were, you were surprised that his tongue didn't make contact with your bottom lip. “What they been saying about me ma?”

“That apparently you’re good in bed” You raised your pointer and middle fingers bent to imitate quotation marks.

“Mhm, keep going”

“Boy ion know, I really don't be concerned with you.” Your hand returned to your hip. Your attitude started to shine through. 

“Maybe it’s because I haven't taken care of you yet sweetheart” He leans down to whisper the sentence in your ear. You feel his lips lightly touch your ear and your entire body froze. 

You huffed, and said “You say that like you're so sure of yourself.” You challenged his boldness, but nothing could prepare you for what he said to you next.

“Maybe when we hit this fitting room, I can show you how sure I am”

deeeefinitely meant to post this last week but finals and grades got me one more time. I'm on break for the rest of the month so I can try my hand at being consistent. let me know if you want to be added to my taglist and how you guys like part 1!

~ your hippie author

🏷️ tags :) @harmshake

#roman reigns x reader #roman reigns #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x chubby reader #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x you #carmenreigns #[ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚✧･ﾟ: * the bankk ✧･ﾟ:* ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ]

[mae-dwrites]

Tam’s Sub Secretary

Tam Fox wanted a brake, a small vacation, just a week. A week was all she wanted, but how was she supposed to have that if she was worried over Tim?

Tam had complained to her cousin in France, they were quick to recommend the best of the best. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, regular and executive secretary and assistant of The Audrey Bourgious, and a personal designer on the women’s team.

She was considered a standard in the business world, intern for her at 16, and her secretary by 17. Each year taking on more roles and making a team to help her balance out the load, to work with her was heaven despite Audrey being right behind her. The Style Queen Fashion House and Magazine had never been smoother nor popular.

Tam thought it too good to be true, to have the MDC temporally take over her position just so she could have a short vacation. She tried to say she couldn't do that to her, but her cousin insisted she could have a schedule set up for the company for the time she was off as she had in the past. All Tam had to do was come up with instructions and details that Marinette would need to know.

So there Tam was in front of Marinette Dupain-Cheng, explaining last-minute details she forgot to include.

“This is your email as my sub, any emails sent to me will automatically forward to you,” Tam explained, “and-”

“I understand Mademoiselle Fox, I assure you I have it under control. If Monsieur Drake needs me to cover for him I will. Go and enjoy your vacation,” Marinette soothingly stated.

Tam had one of the most peaceful weeks she had in possibly years. When she came back Tim had charged her wide eyes and grabbed her by the shoulders, “Where did you get her?”

-

Who is the cousin? My first thought was Alya, then I thought Max.

#theyre probably in their early 20s #tam fox just wants a vacation #secretary!marinette #secretary marinette is my favorite trope #maribat #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat prompt #maribat tim drake #maribat tam fox #secretary au

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Carpe Noctem 2

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You sit against the arm, one leg hooked over the other as the silent third mirrors you, nursing a gin as you set aside your flat soda. You really just want this to be over. Looking at the twins, neither of them have got very far into their cocktails. This isn’t just going to be an in and out deal. In fact, you’re more than certain they’ve duped you again.

Your best efforts as usual add up to nothing. You’re stuck there, the designated driver, the third wheel, the ugly one, beside a huffy brat ogling the dollish twins from afar. Well, you guess you’ll just have to wait this out.

You take out your phone and pull up your last message from Johnny. The usual; asking if you want him to save some slices for you. You hope it’s not too late to say yes. You reply and lean your phone against your leg as you once more peek over at the girls. They can flirt but you’re all going home together. That’s the agreement. Besides, these dudes are shady.

You check your phone. It’s close to midnight. He’s probably gaming or passed out on the couch. You kind of envy that thought.

“What’s wrong? Too good for me, sweet cheeks?” The voice draws you away from the screen and you hit the lock button.

“No, I’m good,” you assure him, “enjoying the music.”

“Ha, right,” he empties his glass, “you want a drink?” He looks pointedly at your forgotten soda, “a real drink. Might loosen you up.”

“No, I’m good.”

“Ah, geez, you think you’re a real catch. Well, whoever you’re texting doesn’t seem to agree.”

He stands up and strides away. You frown and put your phone back in your purse. Typical loser. You’ve dealt with the kind before. You’ve been in this same position too many times. The twins don’t really learn lessons. Mostly, because you’re there to keep them from any hard ones.

Whatever. Johnny’s at home waiting. That much you know. That guy doesn’t matter. Besides, he’s a bit old to be preying on the regulars here. It’s a bit ridiculous, pathetic if you’re cruel.

He sits back down and slurps loudly. You try to ignore him but can’t as he stretches an arm across the sofa, his hand close to your shoulder. He wiggles on the cushion, as if trying to bother you. You acknowledge him with a terse look.

“Lloyd,” he introduces himself with a wink.

“Wow, it only took you one drink to settle for me,” you tut and roll your eyes, “dude, don’t even. I get it. Let’s just both count our losses.”

“Hey, you got me all wrong. I get shy with the cute ones,” he pokes his tongue out, “aw, come on, let’s have a bit of fun.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend? The one ignoring your texts?”

“He’s not– it’s none of your business.”

“Oh, don’t be so uptight. I can play nice. I can be a shoulder to cry on… a lap to sit on.”

You nod and give him a sardonic smirk, “does that usually work?”

“Well, I’ve slept with a lot of married women and I’ve never walked down the aisle,” he boasts.”

“Okay, so you’re scum.”

“Wow, that hurts,” he retracts his hand and touches his chest, “you’re missing out. I would put that extra cushion to good use. With how tight your wound, I can tell the boyfriend isn’t doing much with it.”

“Alright, thank you for your commentary,” you shift and turn so he’s only a blur in your peripheral.

“It’s not an insult, baby, it’s an offer. And it stands… much like something else.”

You shudder in disgust and flick your fingers in his direction. You’ll give the twins thirty more minutes.

🎀

“We should go. I wanna dance,” you say to Selena, “it’s girls’ night. Not girls and some dudes.”

“Alright, I get it,” she leans in, almost condescending and slightly drunk, “but he’s fucking loaded. And so hot. Like girl, there are boys down there, these are men.”

“Right, and I’m sat with the creeper with a broom growing under his nose.”

“Look, if you wanna just go, go.”

“And leave you with a bunch of strange men.”

“I don’t think you need to stick around because I don’t plan on leaving with you.”

“Come on, Selena, you know I can’t just leave you.”

“Well, I’m telling you to.”

“Please–”

“Enough. You’re not my mother.”

“No, but I’m your friend,” you insist.

“I’ll make my own mistakes,” she shrugs, “so, tell that dude to get a life and go home to yours.”

You stare at her. She gets like this and it’s no arguing. You always found that twins always acted like the stereotypical only child. They got their way and would settle for nothing less. She struts off and you look over at Sabrina. Great, she liplocked with the other one.

You go back to the sofa to get your bag. You’re frustrated. You won’t be able to sleep with the pit dipping in your stomach. You’ll be up all night until you get the text telling you they’re okay.

As you stop at the end of the couch, Lloyd stumbles, almost into you, before falling and flopping onto the cushions. His drink splashes over his shirt as he pats the spot beside him.

“Why don’t you sit down?” He invites you in a slur. You can tell by his eyes that he’s bombed.

“No thanks,” you grab your purse but he catches the strap, “hey–”

“Oh,” he reaches to set down his now empty glass, the mess glistening all over his satin shirt and his chest bared beneath it, “let me clear the throne.”

He wipes his mustache with his finger and you cringe. You tug on the strap but he doesn’t let go. He giggles and his head lolls as he does. It’s almost pitiful watching him. Out of his mind and almost helpless to his own vices.

Great. The twins are going to owe you.

You drop your bag and go to the bar. You grab a few of the cloth napkins folded neatly on it and return the man as he grumbles. You wipe off the stray droplets on the couch and sit, focusing on cleaning him up. You can’t just leave him soaked with gin, can you?

“Mmmm, lower,” he purrs as you wipe along his chest.

You say nothing and try to dry off the open collar of his shirt. You feel a tickle along your side and it crawls down to your hip. You stop him, tossing his hand away from you.

“Look, I’m just getting you tidied up, then I’m leaving.”

“Can I come with you?” He snickers.

“Please, no,” you retort.

He pouts and lets his head fall back again. “We’ll see.”

#dark lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #drabble #series #the gray man #carpe noctem #the club #au

[snackugaki]

more AU visdev shenanigans because I have both a problem and am trying to trick myself into doing visdev for my actual  projects

my tmnt au (where everyone made it past their 20s, splinter’s alive just old, venus is here, and they deserve some goddamn respite and shenanigans)

tmnt au part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

tmnt au omake 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

lny visit 1 | 2

AU musings under the cut cuz truly, i have a goddamn problem and most of it is from my brain always go brr

uhhh... hm... Mirage spoilers pmuch right out the gate... probably IDW, and prrrrobably Next Mutation spoilers for the kids who haven’t started/caught up because surprise that’s where I pull from (aside from the 87 cartoon and 90s movies because who doesn’t pull mainly from their childhood turtles)

April being into punk, goth, alt, what have you just makes sense to me

...because she gravitated to the outsider nature of those subcultures since she, herself, didn’t feel like she quite belonged anywhere

which is natural when you’re a drawing made real

(it’s fine, she’s flesh and blood now)

shout out to poly styrene, april loved her

keeping them short kings just like my childhood turtles

Jennika absolutely comments to Donnie if he’s found any good cheese in any walls lately

god i hate plowing through the first couple of passes of a design

alas, the process

Venus ended up being dressed in hanfu since other clothes didn’t fit her quite right; a specific group of old women were ecstatic at breaking out hanfu patterns to use.

Chung I doted on Venus so much, the only thing that kept her from becoming spoiled was when she started taking up cultivation alongside Chung I and his sect

nothing more humbling that carrying 3 buckets of water up a steep mountain side while your sifu hurls mystic blasts at your feet

Venus progressed pretty quickly though; enough to be trusted with plans to circumvent Vam Mi’s return and reconnoiter with the sect’s allies in NYC

(it didn’t work but it’s okay they defeated Vam Mi anyway)

shit now I have to come up with a name for the sect hhhhh

Chung I’s sect is one of ?? who, like the ninja, have a responsibility (among others) to regulate the mortal plane with the less mundane ones

Venus IS training to serve in his role (give or take one of her brothers or sisters being bestowed the responsibility)

hmm... Venus likes keemun tea best if she has the choice, and for soup... oxtail soup and black sesame soup

and because it was fkkn metal in Next Mutation, Venus is primarily a pugilist who occasionally uses her cultivation techniques ; she trains a little with a fan when she gets to weapons training but she prefers the spear (link has blood and some real violent fighting but fuck Fog Hill is fucking siiiiick)

...a nickname Venus gains is ‘the spear fairy’ ‘cuz i’m indulgent :)

the supernatural side of NY was already getting antsy and unruly when Venus arrived so of course she and the boys ended up fighting upon first encounter

The fight happens after hours at a local walk-around market; Raph barges in and Venus fishes around for something that isn’t the requisite staff she was saddled with before setting out (because she knows how to deal some damage with it and she wasn’t about to do that to complete strangers she didn’t know the alignment of)

she ends up using a mannequin; one arm came off so Venus attacked with that and defended with the upper part of the mannequin; Raph was getting outmatched while Mikey and Donnie were laughing in increasing volume

at a certain point Leo tried to intervene but Venus assumed it was a double team, ripped the other arm off the mannequin and defended with both against Raph and Leo; eventually her hood was flipped and they saw she was a turtle so cue Venus using the opportunity to get them both on the ground and about to smash the now armless mannequin torso onto Leo and Raph before Donnie called for a truce

at which point, as is established, Mikey quipped up at the scene, “I call this... ‘Venus de Milo, triumph over dorkus maximuses’”

Leo DID try to address her by her actual name but his not-quite-right tone made her pity him and insisted he just use Mikey’s new nickname

Venus absolutely asked why the boys were running around half naked when she came across them; they didn’t have an answer they just shrugged and let Mikey change the subject with asking if she’s tried NY pizza yet

Venus is ambivalent in the end, she knew humans wore clothes since their bits are just ...like, out there dangling around; the yaoguai around her also dressed and thought they were just adhering to the custom out of simple consideration

Venus eventually gears up like the boys to help hide her mission from the sect trying to resurrect Vam Mi

Leo gives Venus a spare mask of his; it came from a bin of incorrectly dyed masks when he was attempting shibori dye experiments

Mikey was so enthusiastic about it, having only known April at the time he asked if he could try out braiding her mask tails since Leo didn’t bother tailoring it after he botched the dye job

Splinter helps Venus make contact with her sect’s allies ala Rescuers Down Under

NM!Venus canonically knows how to pick locks why not in this AU too

The boys take Venus to the library one night, Donnie pleads for Venus to break into the reference shelves, stoops to fibbing a little that information she might find handy could be in those shelves (they weren’t)

A hilarious exchange happens between April and Venus when Venus cycles through like 3 dialects and 2 languages before finding out April speaks Canto; Venus starts calling April Ah ze, in kind April calls Venus Ah mui

hmm hmmm... still torn between April meeting the boys once as little kids then running into them again when she’s an adult or having her meet them as little kids but connecting a little earlier, 1-2 years from graduating HS

mostly just cuz I wanna have this AU April taking them to GWAR concerts so they can enjoy being out without getting clocked 

Casey and Raph absolutely dressed as the Bash Brothers for a couple of halloweens

I like the idea of Casey thinking of himself as the fifth turtle brother because it’s sweet, thassit AU canon it is done

I feel like Jennika probably ran into April and Casey at separate music venues; befriended Casey first tho

Jennika spent two years in China with Venus, getting her handle on her new turtle body; when she came back she nearly cleaned out 3 thrift stores and basically commandeered a portion of Donnie’s lab for almost a year to tailor clothes for herself

Donnie basically made himself a mini-clothing manufacturing  factory by salvaging and rebuilding embroidery, pattern cutting, and industrial sewing machines

Jennika and Mondo have jam sessions

The brockhampton parody in this AU is northbrockton, Jennika and Mondo are rotational members

Mondo can speak hawaiian pidgin, he speak liddat when he go an talk story with Mikey ova some grinds, Mikey also starts picking it up

 Mondo sometimes refers to Mikey as Braddah Honu

One of the stolen waste/mutagen barrels from That Night rolled and got shunted conveniently to a desolate lot where it leaked for years

Mondo came across it looking for a place for his band to jam without getting interrupted, pop goes the lizard mutation

tl;dr a video of urban explorers stumbling on it got onto Mona’s feed (and I’m smudging her original start as a physicist to a biophysicist) and since she’s a can do sort of girl she goes to check it out herself before reporting it to the proper organizations-- bam, mutant lizard Mona Lisa rip

that same video came across on one of Donnie’s feeds, Raph’n Mikey go to investigate and come upon a distraught lizard Mona Lisa; Mikey uses her assumption they were also originally human to bring her back to the lair and get her calmed down

god it’s so messy, thankfully Splinter, Leo and April are far better at helping Mona come to grips with her mutation, Donnie helps out in setting her up to survive the first couple months of transitioning between her old human life to navigating her mutant one

For me, she’s now Mona Lisa Saperfeld purely for this exact reference link

Raph and Casey also get the occasional treats from the local bodegas, but for running off extortionists and other assorted dipshits with too much time an not enough supervision

Jennika, Mondo, and Mikey are constantly replacing each others’ high scores in Guitar Hero and DDR in Donnie’s arcade

When Donnie, Casey, and Raph are left in the garage for too long... they end up making the weirdest shit (link to a Handy Geng playlist, a dude who makes funky inventions)

#i was using my little AU visdev to get myself going #to do it for my own projects #but oh #how quickly i ended up doing it to relax #because motherfuckers keep trying to start shit with people I know #hhhhh #which i have to reiterate #why be rude #when you can just shut the fuck up #or do it off anon so I can fucking block you too

[phaedraismyusername]

Hi hello I have been knee deep in a genre binge so here are some literary sci-fi books that deal with loneliness as a core theme

I Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman

Translated from French this book follows the youngest girl in a group of 40 women who are being kept in a cage underground in an unknown place, for unknown reasons, until one day they get the chance to escape triggering a search for answers and survival on a desolate surface.

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro

This is a very subtle dystopian story about a group of people who spend their childhoods at an extremely secretive english boarding school, the course of their relationships, and where they are at the end of their lives. There's a subtle feeling of wrongness from the first chapter and the author spends the rest of the novel very slowly revealing the reasons why.

Everything You Ever Wanted by Luiza Sauma

The super short form pitch for this book is 'Fleabag if there was an option to yeet herself to another planet'. Iris is in a long term relationship with depression, kind of hates her pointless job, sometimes hates her family, and is generally overwhelmed by the weight of existence, when she hears about Nyx - earth's first space colony - and thinks that just maybe it could be the answer to all her problems.

Remnant Population by Elizabeth Moon

When the population of a company sponsored colony finds out they have been designated a failure and the people are to be packed up and shipped off to another planet to try again, one little old lady decides that for the first time in her long life she's going to break the rules - she's going to stay and live her best life alone on the planet, and finally get some peace and quiet. What could go wrong?

Skyward Inn by Aliya Whiteley

Skyward Inn is an odd little book set in a future where Earth has come into contact with an alien world that quickly surrendered to humanity. The story follows a small group of kind of unlikeable people who live behind the walls of the 'western protectorate' - a place in the moors that's decided to isolate itself and live like the old days with rudimentary technology for a simple life. Until strangers appear and things start to get... weird. Slower, stranger and with more body horror than you might expect.

#unsolicited recommendations #im traditionally a hard sci fi girly #whod of thunk id grow into a lit fic girl #well kinda #sci fi #literary #i who have never known men #jacqueline harpman #never let me go #kazuo ishiguro #everything you ever wantes #luiza sauma #remnant population #elizabeth moon #skyward inn #aliya whiteley #book recs #booklr #oh and i didnt mention just how many nods skyward inn has to #jamaica inn #by #daphne du maurier #which was pretty interesting tbf

[demifiendrsa]

Oscars 2023 winners:

Best Picture – Everything Everywhere All at Once

Best Actress in a Leading Role – Michelle Yeoh, Everything Everywhere All at Once

Best Actor in a Leading Role – Brendan Fraser, The Whale

Best Directing – Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert, Everything Everywhere All At Once

Best Film Editing – Paul Rogers, Everything Everywhere All at Once

Best Original Song – “Naatu Naatu” by M.M. Keeravaani and Chandrabose, RRR

Best Sound – Mark Weingarten, James H. Mather, Al Nelson, Chris Burdon and Mark Taylor, Top Gun: Maverick

Best Adapted Screenplay – Sarah Polley, Women Talking

Best Original Screenplay – Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert, Everything Everywhere All At Once

Best Visual Effects – Joe Letteri, Richard Baneham, Eric Saindon and Daniel Barrett, Avatar: The Way of Water

Best Original Score – Volker Bertelmann, All Quiet on the Western Front

Best Production Design – Production Design: Christian M. Goldbeck; Set Decoration: Ernestine Hipper, All Quiet on the Western Front

Best Animated Short Film  – The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse

Best Documentary Short Film – The Elephant Whisperers

Best International Feature Film – All Quiet on the Western Front (Germany)

Best Costume Design – Ruth Carter, Black Panther: Wakanda Forever

Best Makeup and Hairstyling – Adrien Morot, Judy Chin, and Annemarie Bradley, The Whale

Best Cinematography – James Friend, All Quiet on the Western Front

Best Live Action Short Film – An Irish Goodbye

Best Documentary Feature – Navalny

Best Actress in a Supporting Role – Jamie Lee Curtis, Everything Everywhere All at Once

Best Actor in a Supporting Role  – Ke Huy Quan, Everything Everywhere All at Once

Best Animated Feature – Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio

#Oscars #Oscars 2023 #Everything Everywhere All at Once #All Quiet on the Western Front #The Whale #RRR #Top Gun Maverick #Women Talking #Avatar The Way of Water #Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio #Black Panther Wakanda Forever #An Irish Goodbye #Navalny #The Elephant Whisperers #The Boy the Mole the Fox and the Horse #film #awards

[dresshistorynerd]

Hello hello! I have gotten myself into an American Civil War era ball in November and I was wondering if you had any input on formal dress from the era! I've never done reenactment before but I would love some input on what I should wear!

That sounds very cool! I hope you'll have great time there when it eventually comes! :D

I'll go through all the garments and accessories that would have been used at the time, but obviously limitations of reality might get in the way of some parts. I'll give my opinion on what I think is more and less necessary to embody the era, but I've never done reenactment either so I can't really say for sure what is the expected level of historical accuracy, maybe someone with some experience of reenactment can chime in. But you'll be the best judge on what you can realistically get/make. Think of this as background info.

So the years we are looking at are 1861-65. I'll start from underlayers towards outer layers.

Shift and drawers

By 1860s drawers were used by most women with their shifts. The shift had wide neckline, small sleeves and often a bit of lace trimming. The sleeves could be wide like in the examples, but less often they might be small poofs. It was roughly knee length and still quite often made from white linen, but white cotton too.

Linen shift from mid 1800s US, and a linen shift from 1861-65.

The drawers were very simple in design. They most often split crotch seam, meaning the crotch seam wasn't sewn closed and the waistband was the only thing holding the pieces together. This made it easier to use the bathroom. They reached around mid-calf, sometimes just over the knees, but ankle length was too long. 1860s drawers were very full and usually had simple lace and/or frills at the hem. They were also made from either linen or cotton at the time.

The first example is from 1863 Peterson's Magazine, where pattern for joined drawers are marketed as new, but it's still very much patterned in a way where the drawers don't need to be taken down when using bathroom. It would be still pretty rare. Then drawers from 1860s US.

I would say basically any shift with short sleeves and wide enough neckline works here or really in place of that even almost any similarly shaped under dress, but it's very crucial to have something under the corset. If a shift isn't easily available, the replacing dress should be thin so it's not super hot, loose so it doesn't need closures that might cause chafes under the corset and preferably linen or at least cotton, so it's not sweaty and feels comfortable. Linen is really the superior undergarment material as it's anti-bacterial, very breathable and easy to wash, cotton was only contending with it for very Victorian reasons. The drawers are not necessary, not everyone used them at the time. If you don't feel comfortable not wearing any underpants (which was the other option at the time), I do recommend them since using a bathroom with the crinoline and underpants you have to take down is pretty hard.

Corset

1860s corset was fairly short compared to earlier and later corsets, and usually wouldn't reach very far on the hips. It wasn't necessary as the waistline was just above the natural waistline and the skirt was very wide so the shape of the hips would be completely covered. The corset used in formal settings like balls was usually heavily boned but for the same reasons as why the corset itself was relatively short, the bones didn't necessarily reach beyond the waistline. For these reasons even the heavily boned corsets left very large range of movement for the torso. As it was typical for the whole Victorian era, the corset was closed at the front with a busk and had lacing in the back.

The boning was usually just whalebone, metal often only used in the busk. The fabric was reinforced with most often with cotton twill or canvas. Especially in case of these fancier corsets used with evening gowns, the corset often had a silk fashion fabric, which could be white like other undergarments or colorful.

Silk corset from 1864 Britain/France, and cotton wedding corset from 1865-67 US.

Corset really is very necessary to pull of the ball gown of this era. Not just because it's very crucial in getting the silhouette, but also because it makes it easier to wear the large skirt as the corset distributes it's weight across the torso and supports the torso too. I do think any Victorian corset works here well enough as they are roughly similarly shaped. Because the crinoline is very light, the skirt is lighter than it looks, so even other less structured supportive garments that give even somewhat similar shape could work if Victorian corsets are not an option, like Regency stays or Edwardian corsets or even some modern corset. From what I've heard about reenactment events, I would prioritize having corset (or similar) that fits you and you know you can wear for a long period of time over historical accuracy and the right silhouette. (Corset often needs to be broken in like leather shoes, because the whalebones will shape into the body.)

Crinoline

Crinoline is a crucial part of the underlayers to achieve the silhouette of this era. The silhouette went through some changes even in the first half of 1860s. It started as quite similar to late 1850s silhouette of very large and round, though already in 1861, the volume was more focused in the back. In the following years the skirt would become less round, but wider and the volume would increasingly lean to the back. The skirt would reach it's widest point with massively long back, almost like a very wide bustle, in 1865.

Crinoline from 1860-62 Spain, and another from 1865. You can see the progression quite well between these two.

Here's also all of these foundational layers shown all at once, though I think the crinoline is from between 1866-68, since it's so narrow around the hips (the silhouette collapsed very quickly from the critical mass of 1865 to a much more narrow A-lined silhouette).

As said, this is really necessary to pull of the skirt of early half of 1860s. You really can't get the shape right without it. Especially for the earlier silhouette of the decade 1850s crinoline works perfectly fine and even the later 1860s crinoline like above. Even modern or 1950s hoop skirts can be serviceable here, but if the skirt is cut like in the mid 1860s, it definitely does need the elliptical crinoline that are very specific for those couple of years, as you'll see in the examples of the next section.

Petticoat

Petticoat's purpose in this era was mainly to smooth out the crinoline. It was therefore voluminous and usually made out of fairly stiff fabric, usually a bit heavier linen or cotton. There was often horizontal pleats around the hem, which would reinforce the shape. Couple of layers could be used too to properly cover the crinoline. It was pretty plain, usually white, but not necessarily, maybe with a bit of lace at the hem. Especially in early 1860s the petticoat was usually gathered with cartrigde pleats, which give a very round and voluminous shape. Around the mid 1860s, the pleating would be mostly focused in back to enhance the long shape.

Cotton petticoat from 1855-65 US, and linen petticoat from 1860-65 US. The first is very likely late 1855 or very early 1860s as it's so very round. The second is definitely closer to 1865, it shows very well how much more volume was at the back, as the hem there is much longer.

This is not strictly necessary, but it's very obvious when a crinoline doesn't have a petticoat on top of it, especially if the skirt is made out of some thinner fabric. It can be very simple, it just needs to be big enough. Basically any similar sized skirt or petticoat works fine in it's place.

Corset cover

Corset cover or camisole, as the name suggests, had similar purpose as petticoat, to smooth out the hard line of the corset. It was a small shirt, with similar neckline and sleeves as shift at the time. It was like other undergarments almost always white, often made out of cotton, but linen too.

Cotton corset cover from 1860 US, and another from 1864-68 US.

It's not super necessary imo, but it does give a smoother finish. It could be pretty easily replaced by a corset cover from different era, that's close enough in design (so it won't be showing under the bodice), if something like that is more easily available.. Any shirt really that's similarly loose-ish, so that it doesn't create too much bulk, but also doesn't get pinned tense by the bodice, would work I think.

Ball gown

Now we finally get to the meat of it. Ball gowns of the early half of 1860s had very tiny sleeves, that hung just over the shoulder. They were usually tiny poofs or could be tiny frills too. As mentioned earlier, the bodice was short and ended abruptly at the waistline, which was slightly above the natural waist, to emphasize the mass of the skirt. A typical waistline exaggerated pointed end.

The skirt was not as elaborately layered like a cake as in late 1850s, but typically it had a bit of layering at the hem, where the layers were displayed by different types of gathering. An organza layer on top was very popular. A bit of trimming at the hems of the layers of the skirt was common, but the amount of trimmings was pretty restrained (especially when compared to the next couple of decades).

The colors of evening wear were usually light. I've noticed white, light pink, light blue, mint and lavender crop up most often. It was though very trendy to have a dark or a bright jewel accent color combined with the soft dominant color. The new synthetic dyes were able to create cheep bright colors unlike before and people were very into them. The most popular colors, that were also used a lot as accent colors in evening wear were bright purple, magenta, electric blue and emerald green. The evening gowns tended to be solid color and mostly one color too, except for the accents. Typical decorative motifs were fabric flowers, bows, lace trimming and fringes. For evening wear the fabric was most often silk as taffeta or satin and possibly organza in addition.

Here's some select fashion plates with ball gowns I really like. The firs is from 1863 and the other two are from 1865.

The first two include my personal favorite trend from this period, which is corselette/Swiss waist/Medici waist. It was a small decorative usually underbust waistwear, sometimes with shoulder straps, sometimes without. It was part of the Gothic Revival fashion and was alluding to Renaissance bodices and stays. They really have nothing to do with Medieval or Renaissance fashion, but Victorians associated the use of waistwear and stays as outer wear with vague idea of The Gothic for quite complicated reasons (I talk about that in this post at length). They were lightly boned, but just to keep up the shape, they were not in any way supportive, just decorative. The blue dress in the first example above has a Medici waist (the trend was loosely inspired by Catherine de Medici's portraits), which has the distinctive upward pointed neckline combined with shoulder straps, and the white dress in the second example has either Swiss waist or corselette. The terms were used quite interchangeably, even the Medici waist's definition is pretty loose (I usually just default to corselette). Below there's couple of more example of these. First is silk corselette from 1863-67 US and second is silk corselette from 1864-68 US. The third is a dress with another silk coselette supposedly from 1855 US. I think the bodice is too short for 1855 and the skirt very distinctly mid 1860s, with the volume in the back, so I won't believe MET on this. Interestingly the dress is made out of piña fabric, which is traditional fabric made out of pineapple plant fiber and was a luxury fabric among Western upper crust in 18th and 19th centuries for colonialist reasons.

Okay, I'm done with the corselette propaganda. I have a pinterest board of primary images with a section for 1860-65 for additional inspiration, but I haven't organized it yet, so there might be some misplaced images.

Accessories

These are not that necessary, but a bit of extra detail to sell the look.

Hair was kept in elaborate low buns, which could be decorated with fabric flowers and ribbons for the evening. Necklaces were pretty short and usually fairly simple. This was the time, when the iconic black silk ribbon collar became a thing. In 1860s it usually had some small (or bigger as in this royal example) pendant on it.

Gloves were strictly necessary. For evening they were always white kid (a type of thin leather) gloves, which just covered the wrists. Silk gloves were thought of as tacky. The gloves were very simple in style but bracelets were often used with them.

Above knee stockings were always used. Usually they would be white, but they did come in all kinds of colors and small patters on the ankle were common. They would be knitted silk for the evening. Here's some silk stockings in very fun colors and patterns from 1860s England. They were secured with with a wide silk ribbon tied below or above knee. I use stockings and ribbon to secure it for everyday purposes, and it works really well. The thing is to have wide enough ribbon you can circle around the leg couple of times, so it won't put too much pressure on one spot. For me below knee works the best. Really any thin knee high stockings works for this, and white is the safest bet.

There's some options with the shoes. Both boots and slippers were acceptable for evening wear and slippers could have a heel or not. The evening shoes were less practical and fancier that your day shoes. They usually had silk as the fashion fabric, which wasn't that much of an issue, since they were used indoors.

Silk evening boots from 1860s France, silk slippers with a heel from 1855-65, and silk slippers from 1862 Austria.

Honestly, shoes won't be really seen under the skirt, so I don't think it's very necessary to get new shoes (there are shoe sellers like American Duchess who do historical reproduction so it's possible). Basically any ballerina slippers with a somewhat flat or at least round end are pretty close. Also any shoes roughly between 1830-1880 are basically accurate (minus some details) as the shoe fashion changed pretty slowly.

I hope this was helpful for at least providing some background info!

#historical fashion #history #victorian fashion #fashion history #dress history #answers #historical costuming #extant garment #1860s fashion #fashion

[thecourtesanschateau]

the assessment.

hair - is always well kept with a soft sheen, almost always long at least cleavage length. hairstyles are simple, usually long and flowing (either straight, wavy or loosely curled). hair extensions are probably added.

skin - clear. flawless with a soft glow grooming - immaculate. eyebrows plucked and arched to perfection, lash extensions, fillers. here's something i noticed about their nails and makeup that i didn't expect:

their makeup, while it was usually a "full face" or applied "heavy" at times, was almost always in neutral or natural colors. lips were shades of pink,nude,browns or red. same thing with eyeshadow. it was never any colors like purple, blue and it was also never "loud" or extravagant. i guess the best way to describe this would be "soft glam".

as far as nails go, it was pretty much the same. shades of white, light pinks (i didn't see too many dark/hot pinks, rarely was there any color (i noticed that if there was, they were usually on vacation or it was around halloween or a special event), the boldest was either a red nail or various versions of french manicures.

body - slim/slender or hwp with average to big breasts (implants). something else i noticed is that while a lot of these girls may be naturally skinny they still go to the gym and workout. there is a difference between being naturally slim and being fit and toned. these girls definitely prefer to be fit and very toned, especially when it comes to their legs and stomachs. preferred workouts are cardio and pilates.

this wasn't shown a lot but from what i did gather, these women eat healthy 75% of the time (if not more). supplements, vitamins and protein powder were apart of their fitness/workout regimes. it seems like everyone has a sweet tooth though. favorite indulgences where chocolate and desserts from restaurants.

teeth - perfection. hollywood smiles. bright white.

wardrobe - i would call this elegant yet very stylish. quite a bit of lace, fur, and ruffles. i noticed that the color palette skewed slightly more towards neutral colors: white, black, nudes, beiges, light/baby pinks, light greys and light brown (usually in the fall/winter). when they did wear color (which was often) i realized that it was because they were promoting/modeling clothes. when it seemed that they were wearing their own clothes, it was usually with a more neutral palette.

when colors were worn, the two forefronts were deep blue and hot pink. other colors such as orange, yellow, green, etc seem to be usually worn during mid summer or on tropical vacations.

jeans are rarely worn. when pants or shorts are worn (and this is rare as well just not as rare as denim) it's usually apart of a 2 pc set or paired with a silk/satin/lace shirt.

solid colors were still in the majority but as far as patterns go, the main one was floral, then the versace baroque print and some animal print, also there was plaid but almost only when worn with tweed (usually a tweed suit, jacket or blazer) and it was almost always accessorized with a chanel brooch, chanel jewelry or a purse, or pearl jewelry.

accessories - always designer (unless they were modeling someone else's designs), the 3 major designer purses were louis vuitton, chanel and hermes. and honorable mention is the lady dior bag. other accessories were sunglasses, luxury jewelry mainly cartier and vancleef and arpels, watches were rolex or patek and of course diamonds are a girl's best friend.

when it came to shoes, this was the exception to the rule. shoes were in various colors and styles and embellishments. and it was usually heels. heels. and more heels. sneakers were worn sparingly and usually only at the gym or while shopping. flats were usually worn on at the beach (or a beach club) or while shopping. flats of choice are the hermès orans and the sneakers of choice are chanel.

it seems as if the clothes don't need to come from saks, bergdorfs, etc. but my guess is that they do need to be made well and of quality. also baggy/loose clothes are hardly ever worn unless it's a sweater; form fitting clothes are preferred. dresses and skirts are worn wayyyy more than pants.

lifestyle - i'm going to keep this short because it should be pretty obvious: these women only associate with rich, generous men. they have a tendency to go after men that really love the feminine, slightly sexy look. and the men in their life are most definitely sponsoring their lifestyle. if the woman is new to the game, the man will be introducing her to the luxury life, if she's been in it a while he will be keeping her at the level she is accustomed to at minimum or taking her higher.

they are always eating at upscale restaurants, going to events, sunbathing on yachts and traveling to the hottest vacation destinations around the world: maldives, monaco, mykonos, etc.

in their world it's either luxury or nothing. and if you want her to be apart of your world you better be able to afford her.

this is the aesthetic and lifestyle i am aiming for.

#hypergamy #high maintenance #high value woman #hypergamous black women

[the-au-thor]

Little Witch | Prologue

A/N: I've been working on this for a while but i was too shy and scared to post it. Is not finished and it's supposed to be a love story. Anyway; enjoy it if you want. Remember english is not my first language and there might be mistakes, as always feedback would be very appreciated.

Summary: You and Spencer have to deal with the fact that you are tied to each other for the rest of your lifes because of certain adorable little witch— or how to co parenting without falling in love.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader. [No use of y/n]

Words: 2.5 k

Trigger Warning: read it here!

⇝

Little Witch

Prologue

One thing Spencer didn't like was giving lectures at the university. Surprisingly, academic work had secretly attracted him for a long time, a desire he had set aside to join the BAU. Despite carrying a gun and working with the best minds at the bureau to catch dangerous criminals, they occasionally left fieldwork to visit prestigious universities to attract prodigies to the FBI. Initially accompanying Gideon to his talks, he occasionally attended his classes. It didn't excite him; he was awkward, sad, and socially inept. People laughed at everything about him except his jokes, which he found hilariously funny but stopped making after Derek pointed out that students weren't laughing with him but at him.

Against any logic the bureau made an unusual decision: to send him to give lectures completely alone or occasionally accompanied by a new recruit who would only be there to distribute pamphlets and make a demonstration. He decided he would hate academic work. At that moment, it seemed like an injustice to be denounced with his bad mood and certain unwillingness. However, he rediscovered teaching and the fact that, unlike years ago when he accompanied Gideon or Rossi to talks, he was now a proper professor. He was looked at with respect, and even, though it made him nervous, he caught interested glances from women and the occasional flirtatious comment that didn't go unnoticed.

"Dr. Reid?" A brunette with green eyes approached him with a smile. She had a specific type of smile. The woman took a step forward, too close to his personal space. He pressed some forensic science books against his chest, making his sweater tighten around the area. Not that he was staring. It was just too obvious. Anyway, he raised his hand and waved it in the air as a greeting. She didn't seem upset by the gesture; her smile widened even more.

"My name is Naomie, Naomie Larson, and I must say I loved your seminar. I attended last semester, and I wanted to attend the current one, but my schedule is too tight," she adjusted her hair behind her ear and blinked slowly, "I was wondering... could we share a coffee and a conversation about everything I missed?" Maybe she saw his hesitation because she twirled a strand of her hair around her index finger and tilted her head, looking at him with another one of her smiles, "coffee's on me," she added persuasively.

Spencer didn't think too much and almost instinctively shrugged.

"I'm sorry. I'm heading out. But registrations for the next seminar will be open soon, and my colleague, David Rossi, will be leading other interesting lectures. There's one about the predestination of criminal minds and behavior," he tried to cheer her up when he saw her disappointed look.

She pouted slightly, then shrugged with a half-smile, trying to recover.

"I'll follow your advice. I'm even thinking of joining the FBI. Maybe I'll visit the BAU for a tour," she let out a short laugh and shrugged, "Naomie, Naomie Larson," she repeated, picking up the coffee she from the counter and giving him one last glance under her lashes, "Don't forget, Dr. Reid."

She walked away from him with a careful movement of her legs, balancing with agility, in a way that made Spencer think she was previously prepared and designed to attract attention. He averted his gaze to the barista preparing his coffee with discomfort and waited patiently in silence, smoothing the strap of his briefcase. He wasn't foolish; he could easily recognize a pretty girl, especially if she followed normative beauty standards. But it was difficult for him to see someone and simply find them beautiful according to his own standards. There had to be something more, more than primitive need, and even if it was that, it had to be governed by a more personal and profound feeling, even if it was brief. That's why he usually didn't get stuck in relationships — besides the fact that he was terrible at the art of seduction — everything for him was more laborious, especially romance.

"Are you Spencer Reid?" another female voice interrupted his wait.

This time, however, her tone of voice was neither sweet nor deferential like Naomie, Naomie Larson's. He turned and saw a woman with her hair tied in a neat bun that kept her face clear, and he could see every detail of the pristine face adorned only with natural features; thick lashes, arched eyebrows, and pink lips with a cupid's bow pronounced that caught his attention. She had a small chin with and soft dimples that gave her a childlike air. He knew that face, but at the same time, it was totally different. The last time he had seen those eyes, even a bit lighter, they were sunken and surrounded by dark circles of insomnia and abuse. He could even say that some tired wrinkles had disappeared from her face. She looked fresh, repaired, and even more beautiful than the last time he had seen her.

He knew you wouldn't recognize him; you are the kind of person who would have forgotten many things since then.

You were beautiful. You always were, even in your worst moments, and he had met you just after hitting rock bottom. Both were a tragedy it in different ways. He had lost a battle against death, and you were losing it against life; you were broken, and at that moment, it seemed like a good idea to try to fight it together, combining the forces you had left.

He had left you on the bed, crying in a fetal position, between precarious and worn sheets that could well have been translucent. You had made muttered promises that he could barely understand because he needed to move on, and you simply didn't want to. He didn't want to leave you, not because he loved you, not because he needed you, but because you mattered; you had been important, and he didn't want you to suffer. But if he had learned anything in life that they didn't teach him a college, it's that no one can help someone who doesn't want to receive help. So he moved on with his life and made the conscious decision that you wouldn't belong to his future if you barely accepted your own past. A whole year and a little more had passed since then, and under that bridge, much water had flowed, but not enough to erase sins and mistakes.

Then he wondered if leaving you had been a mistake.

"Mela?" he asked, and then let out a short and surprised laugh, dodging the hair falling over his forehead and approached you, forgetting about the personal space tale. "It's fantastic to see you. You look... different."

You frowned, your eyebrows coming together, and he noticed the change in color. You had always kept your hair in fantasy colors, and he had never known your natural hair.

"Different?" you murmured, and even your voice was different.

"Different good," he clarified, clearing his throat without avoiding his smile. "What brings you here? Are you studying? You always said you would have loved to study art history here, right?" he asked, accepting the cup the barista had placed on the counter after serving it, again.

A wave of sadness passed through your eyes, almost clouding your irises as if it were a storm. It was almost as if that comment had sharply embedded in your flesh, and then he saw you shook, looking down and then at him.

"I'm not Mela," you whispered, and he saw you swallow hard just before speaking again, "I'm her twin sister," you introduced yourself, raising your hand, but you didn't bring it towards him, just under your nose, scratching the tip with your back as if you suffered from some allergy. You didn't say anything more, just looked at him deeply, as if you were studying him not to forget him, "You look different."

Spencer furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Wait, did we ever meet?" he asked almost with fear. He never forgot faces. He never forgot people.

You shook your head, your gaze lost. For a moment, while your body was in front of him, your mind seemed to be somewhere far away.

"No. Never," you answered, and then you rummaged in the pockets of your polo dress.

That was another thing different from Mela, and then Spencer knew why you looked so familiar but at the same time so different. It was the same face, a bit more youthful and clean. And your clothing was the complete opposite of Mela's, who loved wearing jeans and T-shirts with pop culture references. That and the old Converse were the only fashion Mela knew. You, on the other hand, had a graceful and pretty way of dressing, like the typical girl next door. You didn't stand out, but certainly, he couldn't say that you were indecent or neglected.

He had to bend down a bit to get a better look at the paper you were showing him; it was an old instant photograph almost worn out in which he and Mela were at the movies with popcorn everywhere and childish grimaces.

"Do you remember this?" you asked with a serious look, as if the question were much more meaningful, "Do you remember?"

"Yes. We went to see a silent film cycle. She hadn't seen any Charlie Chaplin movies. It was her first time," Spencer answered with a furrowed brow, feeling terribly confused.You laughed with disbelief.

"Mela didn't like movies. She hated anything she had to pay quiet attention to for a long time."

That phrase didn't escape Spencer's attention, and a sharp cold went through Spencer's back with a feeling of deadly expectation.

"Wait, she didn't like...?" he knew before even receiving a clear answer. He didn't need you to nod to know that something had happened to Mela. Something irreversible.

He didn't know how to react. He couldn't say he didn't feel sadness, but neither surprise. Someone like her was precisely a person who would be constantly in that danger unless something had changed in her life since they had taken separate paths.

"She died a few months ago," you seemed genuinely distressed saying it, and your voice lightened and broke at the end of the sentence, but with a clearing of your throat, you looked at him again, "She talked to me about you. A couple of times at least. It was hard to get any words out of her about how... how you met," you said with difficulty, "But two days ago, cleaning her things, I found this photo, and then..." you observed the moment captured in the photo and looked at him, "I tried to contact you at your job, but you're never there. They always told me to leave a message. But this isn't the kind of thing you should talk about so casually," you seemed to apologize and have a deep internal debate at the same time, "I searched for you. I had to see what..." you made another pause, looking elsewhere as if afraid to ask anything, "... Do you have time? I'd like to talk to you."

He could've said no, but he needed answers. He needed to know what happened and why you were looking for him when he had only been mentioned a couple of times and was just a face immortalized on a worn-out paper.

They sat at an isolated table, one by the window, and the daylight hit your hair and skin. Spencer saw your bare fingers and perfectly manicured nails with a pale pink tone. You were the complete opposite of Mela, always so gloomy, distant, and sad. You looked transparent, careful, and serious, but not sad, at least not the kind of sadness that constantly covered Mela's face.

"How...?" he didn't have to continue asking the question. You understood the doubt perfectly, and for a moment, you seemed to enter a trance before answering.

"At first, I thought it was an overdose: she mixed some other drugs with heroin, and that was it," you answered, unconsciously scratching the back of your hand with your nails, "But then, cleaning her things, I found a note. That's when I knew it was on purpose. Mela had been sober for more than year. It made as much sense as it didn't."

Spencer nodded in silence. What could he say that would be a comfort for the situation?

"Did anyone else know about her suicidal thoughts?"

You furrowed your brow.

"Nobody. She attended her NA meetings, and no one suspected anything. I mean, Mela was always a bit melancholic and negative, but never suicidal," you stopped abruptly, as if the sentence had hit you in the face, and blinked rapidly, trying to forcefully expel the idea from your mind. "Why did you stop seeing each other?" you asked hesitantly.

Spencer, caught off guard by that question, didn't refuse to answer. Losing your twin sister had thrown you into a whirlwind, and everything was happening too fast for his usually methodical thoughts.

"Our interests changed," he replied after a brief reflection.

You slightly furrowed your brow, dissatisfied with the answer. "Interests?"

Spencer began to feel his discomfort growing in his chest, squeezing it. He felt like a suspect being interrogated.

"Yes," he replied and started to stand up. "Listen, I really am sorry about Mela," he said sincerely, looking you in the eyes. You remained seated, watching him with sadness. "I know she wanted to recover from her addiction," he murmured gently. "And I also sorry we met under these circumstances."

You then finished furrowing your brow harshly and looked at him with controlled anger.

"So, you're leaving? You know, I hesitated a lot about coming here," you stood up just as he was turning to leave the café. "In fact, I still think it's crazy," you admitted, walking toward him with a stern look. "But I had to see you. I had to know you."

Spencer let out a dispirited laugh.

"I don't think I was that important to your sister. Honestly, I think she might have hated me. Not that she didn't have reasons."

You shook your head frantically. "She didn't hate you."

"She didn't hate me, but she didn't like me either. You said you could barely get any information about me from her."

"That's not the reason," your voice faded as you gave that response. Spencer saw your eyes fill with tears and your lips tremble softly. You took a deep breath before speaking again. "She never told me your name. I knew you existed, I mean, you had to. But I wasn't sure of anything until I saw the photo. Then I connected the dots."

Spencer saw the first tears fall through your cheeks as you looked again at that worn photo in your hands, a photo he suddenly wanted to destroy. It took him a while to string his words together, and no matter how much he thought about them, they still didn't make sense.

"What are you talking about?"

You looked up at him, shaking your head.

"She loved her. Maybe she feared you'd take her away. I mean, look at you; you could have if you wanted," you murmured, brushing your face free of the fine hairs that had come loose from your ponytail and revealed themselves on your forehead. You glanced around somewhat embarrassed, but no one in the café was paying attention. They were too focused on their own affairs.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Spencer apologized nervously. His head was starting to ache due to this strange situation. "Listen, you need to calm down. Our brains perceive loss as a physical threat. Your heart beats fast, you tremble, you sweat, and you can even lose track of time because your body is preparing to defend itself against something that's more emotional than physical."

You let out a humorless, choked laugh, looking around as if searching for the answer to something that wasn't there.

"What the hell am I doing here?" you whispered, lightly hitting your forehead with the palm of your hand. "I'm sorry for wasting your time, Spencer Reid."

Spencer saw you starting to walk away, and his internal alarms began to flare with fear. He didn't want it to end like this. He knew what it felt like to lose someone and the pain that came with it. He wouldn't know, however, the pain it would mean for a person to lose their brother, especially someone with whom they shared such a special connection like you and Mela.

"Wait!" He saw you walk out of the café, then turned towards him to hear what he had to say. "Why did you come and look for me?" he asked insistently, gently grabbing your arm.

He didn't do that; he didn't touch strangers unless it was a chase, and he loosened his grip when you looked at him sternly. You pulled away from him gently, even though he noticed you were controlling yourself not to do it abruptly. You took your phone out of your bag, and as you unlocked it, you let out an annoyed huff.

"I'll tell you why," he saw your cheeks redden, and you lifted your chin while showing him a photo of you with a small, smiling girl. She had almond-shaped eyes, dimples on her cheeks, long and curly eyelashes, and platinum hair. She was happy, a cute, happy little girl. "This is Matilda. In January she'll turn one. She's Mela's daughter, and I think she's yours."

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #criminal mind #spencer reid x fem!reader

[justforbooks]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Carl died in 2015.

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

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

#just for books #iris apfel #in memoriam

[the-therapist-is-ace]

Hello! As promised to @rubberduckyrye, here are some of my notes I got about my social psychology class, about leadership! (And of course I thought of V3. Of course. So I'm sharing the ones that could be linked to it x)

(Please keep in mind that those datas were extracted from social experiments in real life, not a killing game tho xD)

There's four "main" types of leadership:

Authoritarian (like in the army)

Transactional (preferably one for a short period of time or objective; this one is quite literally, a transaction. You do this task, you get this reward. It's not a long-term option)

Transformative (This one is the most looked after in companies: it's one that focus on changing things for the better, helping employees too in the process, but also it's looking for long-terms solutions and practice. The one that can motivate others, and help employees with their problems)

And lastly the "let it be", a type of leadership that let the "employees" -keep in mind those experiments were done in companies' settings- do what they want and doing much about it.

First of all, it's good to know that the leadership authoritarian is less performant than the transactional, or the transformative. But it's still WAY BETTER than the "let it be"! To give a hierarchy:

"let it be" < authoritarian < transactional < transformative.

(Again, in a company's setting. But I think it would work best in a killing game too, since everyone have to collaborate for a long term objective, leaving, when there's one actual traitor in their group)

Kaede and Kokichi (because I am still talking about V3, of course!) both tried -Kaede... more or less- a transformative leadership. Which, good idea! The problem being that Kaede also took some major part of the "let it be" type as well. Asides from the Death Road of Despair, and when she asked Miu for help, she pretty much didn't let the others contribute.

Kokichi too; well he let Miu, Gonta and maybe a bit Shuichi contribute, but after the first trial there's not a lot of people willing to listen to him asides the first two I mentionned.

Angie in chapter 3, tried an authoritarian leadership. Which... works, until the authority figure isn't respected (or feared) and people start doing whatever they want again. (And the problem with her, is that she only was respected by half of the class to begin with. It was bond to fail)

And all three of them struggle with the notion to let others than their allies do the work for the group (which, in a killing game is understandable. There's a mastermind lurking around) but it doesn't help the overall cohesion, conflicts in the group happens because "it's always the same doing the things" (in a company setting anyway.)

An annoying thing too, is that once a leader is designated, all the others around are like "oh cool, they'll do all the work and I can chill" only doing things if the leader actually tell them to. In a company setting (or in a group project...) no problem. In a killing game on the other hand...

The followers have the tendency to take the values of their leader in mind when taking decisions; in a company, it's seen as a HR employee avoiding to recruit women because he knows his superior is mysogynist. In the killing game, it's seen when Kaede declare they're all friends, and despite the murders that happens, everyone claim this mentality. (Claim. Not necessary follow... *look at the murders*)

Because yes, having people with differents values/goals (i.e: the mastermind working against them) obviously doesn't help the group.

And then, interestings things are seen.

It has been shown in the experiments, that the one stepping up to be the leader, isn't always the most qualified for the job.

Not only that, but people that chose their leader doesn't necessary makes the right choice, and prefer to have someone they like in charge, they are biased.

Looks familiar to anyone?

And now the most fascinating thing:

If no real leader (recognized, followed by everyone or the biggest majority and most importantly: DOING A GOOD JOB) is there, that's when a scapegoat is "designed".

You know, the one that everyone claim to be the source of all problems (the "villain") the one that get ignored (even when they are BLEEDING) the one that can get all their hard work for the group overlooked, even when said-work help to end the crisis? (AKA, the killing game?)

Hm, wonder who that is in V3!

On a lighter note, homor is a great idea in leadership. Studies showed that a joking leader eased the tensions in the group, and help motivate people to go forwards.

Hm, wonder who could try to make jokes to ease the tension...

#the therapist's rant #danganronpa v3 #analysis I guess? #I'm just using my lessons on the situation of v3

[coochiequeens]

In their promotional materials, HER even began using the term “womxn” to be more inclusive of those who felt “woman” was an offensive term.“

Boasting 1.5 million users in 55 countries, HER is undeniably the largest and most recognizable lesbian dating app on the market. While debatable now, it appears to have been created with the best of intentions. The app’s founder, Robyn Exton, said she first set out to design an app that wasn’t just a female version of Grindr. 

However, over the last few years, HER has become less of a platform for lesbians to mingle and more of a case study in the contagion of gender identity ideology and how it uniquely harms the lesbian community. 

Launched in 2015 under the premise of being a female-run lesbian space, HER went through a subtle rebrand in 2018 in an effort to profit from the burgeoning trends of “queerness” and “inclusivity” — terms which had gained popularity from the social justice bloggers of Tumblr and into mainstream discourse. HER, which had ostensibly been designed exclusively for female users, began to add more “categories” and “identities” so it could attract a base that included trans-identified individuals, particularly men. In their promotional materials, HER even began using the term “womxn” to be more inclusive of those who felt “woman” was an offensive term.

Exton gave an interview at the time calling the queer community “amazing” and celebrating the fact that queerness was causing people to “question, challenge, and think about their identity.” But, what started with a spark of “inclusion” turned into a wildfire of compulsion.

On Exton’s app, there was a flood of men who identified as lesbian who felt welcomed to use HER as their new mating grounds. All the while, lesbians and bisexual women who were only interested in dating females were not provided any option to filter out these men from their searches.

Over the short years following, HER began mutating into an entity that was openly hostile to its lesbian users in an effort to signal its dedication to inclusivity. 

Without the ability to filter out men, who could pick any identity they liked on the app, some female users took it upon themselves to signify that they were only interested in other women by adding it to their bio or including a photo with logos that signified exclusive same-sex attraction.

These women found themselves quite literally forced off the app.

Jen, a lesbian user known on Twitter as @cbucksrules, told Reduxx was suspended after adding “no trans women” to her bio on HER because she was exclusively same-sex attracted.

Jen had joined HER in late 2021 looking for a female partner and assuming a lesbian dating app would be the place to go for such an endeavor. Finding a veritable smorgasbord of 5 o’clock shadows and head tilts, Jen attempted to ensure she would only be contacted by other female users.

“I [wrote] in my bio what I would not consider the opposite sex as a partner nor a woman who was not a proud woman as we would not be compatible.” 

Shortly after, Jen was suspended. She wrote to HER’s customer service and asked why, and received a snarky response from an agent named “Devin” berating her for using “hateful language” in her bio, and asserting “trans women are women.”

Jen was incredulous. 

“HER banned me, a lesbian for being a lesbian and not wanting sexual and romantic relationships with the opposite sex,” she told Reduxx.

But Jen’s experience is far from isolated.

Another woman, a vocal woman’s rights advocate known by her moniker DJ Lippy, told Reduxx that she had been suspended from using HER after she uploaded a photograph to her profile featuring a sign that displayed the dictionary definition of woman as an “adult human female.” Many trans-identified males reject the definition of woman as it excludes them as they are not female.

“You can pick any gender identity and sexuality you wish and exclude any you choose… just as long as it isn’t male,” DJ Lippy remarked to Reduxx. “It’s like opening an all you can eat vegan buffet but sneaking salami into all the dishes. When you complain, they kick you out and call you a pork exclusionary radical vegan.”

Another lesbian women’s rights campaigner, Aja, told Reduxx that she was suspended after adding that she was “only interested in biological women” to her profile as she says she had been receiving regular messages from male users who identified as lesbian.

“I was messaged by lots of blokes who I ignored … so I added ‘I’m only interested in biological women’ to my profile and added a picture where I was wearing my ‘adult human female’ t-shirt. Not sure how long it took them to ban me but they did,” Aja says.

Academic and feminist author Holly Lawford-Smith also had a similar experience using the app. In her bio, she wrote that she was only interested in matching with other lesbians and was suspended as a result.

When she reached out to customer service, they advised her that she had been reported for “transphobic” behavior.

The customer service representative, Samantha, went on to inform Holly that it is against their community guidelines to list who you were not interested in matching with, and also compared a lesbian not wanting to mingle with men to a lesbian excluding masculine women.

Speaking with Reduxx, Holly said: “Everything about the app is designed to force gender identity ideology onto the people using the app. You can’t choose a sex, only a gender identity. You’re pushed towards entering pronouns. You can’t filter out males. You constantly have to swipe past men.”

She added: “It’s incredibly sad that an app designed to bring same-sex attracted women together has now been completely infiltrated by, and has completely sold out to, men.” 

Other lesbians on social media have expressed similar experienced about being banned from the app for stating that they were exclusively attracted to females.

Even as lesbian users continue to express disappointment in the fact that a lesbian dating app appears to be forcing female users to match with males, HER has continuously doubled down.

Last year, the app announced that it was taking a hard-line stance on so-called “transphobic language and behavior” by adding “improved TERF controls” which made it easier for male users to report female users for being same-sex attracted.

They also surveyed their trans-identified users and asked them what their biggest “hurdles” to dating on the app was. The number one reason given was “trans-exclusionary dating preferences.” Many women expressed outrage that their sexual boundaries were being framed as a “hurdle” that needed to be overcome. But this is hardly the first time homosexual females have been branded as “discriminatory” for not including delusional men in their dating pools.

The HER saga reached a fever pitch, however, over the past few days as it decided to celebrate Lesbian Visibility Week by explicitly attacking and cyberbullying lesbian women who refuse to date trans-identified males on their official Twitter.

In what can only be described as an unhinged tirade, HER’s social media manager used the company’s Twitter to engage in targeted harassment against women. During their episode, they defended a child molester, sexually harassed women, encouraged doxxing, and made a strange comment about feeding gender-critical crabs to trans-identified males. The social media rampage resulted in the company being temporarily suspended from Twitter.

The incident began when HER quote retweeted DJ Lippy, a user who had previously been banned from their app, who had been remarking on how a trans-identified convicted pedophile had taken the name of a feminist activist after he transitioned. Despite the fact HER had not been mentioned in the original comment from DJ Lippy, the app’s official social media page appeared to have sought out her remarks about the pedophile, and responded with an incoherent, sexualized comment mocking the original user.

“Can the TERFs not afford knitting supplies? Somebody start a GoFundMe, left their gaping assholes catch a cold,” HER wrote.

Immediately, they garnered backlash, with people outraged that they appeared to be starting an argument because a user had criticized the actions of a notorious pedophile.

As they started to get criticism, they continued to post bizarre remarks, including that they “must stay young for pedos.”

As more lesbian users came to DJ Lippy’s defense, the user at the helm of the HER Twitter account began sexually harassing lesbians who criticized them.

The overtly homophobic and sexualized nature of the replies led to many on Twitter to speculate that a man was behind the account, with others still so perplexed by the lack of professionalism that they theorized the account had been hacked.

But, after being suspended from Twitter for repeated instances of harassment, HER took to TikTok to inform people that they didn’t care about the suspension and that no one was going to be disciplined for the abusive tweets. Their account has since been reinstated on Twitter.

On April 26, recognized as Lesbian Visibility Day, HER’s founder published a blog post saying that it was her goal to reclaim the word ‘lesbian’ from those who say that “only those assigned female at birth can be lesbians.” After a barrage of insults aimed at lesbians where she calls them transphobic, bigoted, hateful, and even fascist, Exton ends the screed by stating, “There’s no such thing as a real lesbian.”

Oh, how the mighty fall. Robyn Exton, a woman who designed the app in 2015 with the seemingly heartfelt mission of creating a space for female homosexuals, denying the existence of the very base she once tried to serve.

As nonsensical as that might seem at first glance, we must remember that Exton is a businesswoman, and her strategy of booting clientele who are exclusive allows her to expand her potential customer base significantly. 

She has no vested interest in stating that lesbians are a specific, definable group of people who actually exist. Doing so would only limit her app’s potential market. It wouldn’t be a far stretch to assume she has has no interest in excluding males from the app, either, as men are much more likely to spend money on a dating app.

HER has chosen their marketing strategy: to make the app as appealing to men as possible, then bully, harass and ban any woman who does not accept their new clientele’s presence. They released two notifications this week alone asserting “transphobes” are not welcome on the app. 

These notifications were celebrated online by trans-identified males who call themselves lesbians. 

“As a trans lesbian it feels good knowing HER has my back,” one man wrote on the Reddit board r/actuallesbian, a community that is known to have a 47%user overlap with the male-to-female board.

But while HER has been boasting about their trans-inclusivity to the seal-clapping of trans-identified males, even some liberal women have been grappling with how to approach using the app if they are genuinely same-sex attracted. On Instagram, one woman left a comment stating that some women only want to have a sexual relationship with someone of the same sex. 

She clarified that she wasn’t trying to be a “TERF,” lest she be labelled “transphobic.”

HER responded by telling her to “just swipe left” and went on to explain that she needed to reflect on why her sexuality isn’t “inclusive.” Perhaps most disturbingly, they told her she was welcome to use the app only so long as she kept the specifics of her sexual attraction “to herself.”

HER is effectively telling lesbians to stay in the closet about their homosexuality in order to avoid alienating male users. The company continuously promotes the importance of consent whilst viewing women’s sexual boundaries as an obstacle that needs to be either overcome or hidden. 

The rebranding of the app from a lesbian dating app to a queer dating app sends a clear message: sexual coercion is in, and sexual boundaries are out. Consent is important, but the reason you’re saying ‘no’ is wrong. You can be a lesbian, but keep it to yourself or you may scare off porn-addled male customers. 

The confusing, undulating messaging that borders on gaslighting is the point. It is reflective of how gender ideology operates in general, where blind compliance and devotion is prioritized above common sense. And, of course, all of the compliance and devotion is intended to herd people into a machine of sociopathic profit seeking that benefits a select few.

I have no use for HER, and my lesbian friends have long since figured out to steer clear of it. My concern is for those young lesbian women desperate to avoid accusations of “bigotry” who are now being unwittingly forced into a digital conversion therapy camp — all so Robyn Exton can make a few extra dollars from men in skirts. 

Maybe I will launch my own lesbian dating app. I’ll call it HIM to keep the men away.

By Shay Woulahan

Shay is a writer and social media content creator for Reduxx. She is a proud lesbian activist and feminist who lives in Northern Ireland with her partner and their four-legged, fluffy friends

#HER #lesbians don’t like dick #Men can’t be lesbians #Robyn Exton #Woman is not offensive #A lesbian asking to be matched with women is not hateful #DJ Lippy #Woman is an adult human female #Aja #Same sex attraction is not transphobic #Masculine women are not the same as men #Being a lesbian is suspicious activity #If men don’t want to deal with trans-exclusionary dating preferences then they can start their own site for TIMs #Cyber bullying lesbians

[bracketsoffear]

Las cosas que perdimos en el fuego (The things we lost in the fire) (Mariana Enríquez) Short story in which, to protest a viral form of domestic violence, a group of women set themselves on fire."

Scorch Atlas (Blake Butler) "Scorch Atlas is a short story anthology concerning a number of grisly happenings in a world where mold and bugs crawl out of everything, children are parasites, houses spontaneously catch fire, and the sky rains glass, gravel, blood, manure, teeth, ink, glitter, TV static, and light. But the most Desolation-y part of the book is the central gimmick— this book is meant to be destroyed. Being printed by Featherproof Books necessitates an unconventional design, and Scorch Atlas delivers in pre-blackened pages already marked by the rains of the world. People could order pre-destroyed copies, and there was a contest on who could best destroy their book— axe it, douse it in alcohol, light it on fire, play cricket, drop it in the bathtub, whatever— and the prize, awarded to only one person, is simply another fresh copy. Link to video essay discussing this book and other ergodic literarure."

#desolation poll #the desolation #poll #the magnus archives #leitner tournament #Las cosas que perdimos en el fuego #The things we lost in the fire #Mariana Enríquez #scorch atlas #blake butler