#Corsets and stays were literally just bras

[the-merry-otter]

If you’re on mobile, you may have to click on the images for better quality!

Plain text version with image descriptions is under the cut.

Please note that the image descriptions will be reflecting what I am trying to convey with the photo, rather than the total look of the photo itself. For example if I am trying to describe a dress, the hair colour of the person wearing it will be ignored. This is to reduce the total word count of the descriptions, because I have a lot of images to describe. On this note, I have also streamlined the information as much as possible.

[Plain text description:]

First slide: Mariota’s Guide to 14th Century (Medieval) Women’s Clothing

This slideshow is brought to you by @the-merry-otter on tumblr

ALRIGHT LISTEN UP MOTHERS AND FUCKERS. I’m bored, so today we’re going to be talking about medieval clothing. Specifically fourteenth century English clothing because that’s what I’m good at. (Source: trust me bro I’m a reenacter). Also this is all female stuff - sorry masc leaning folks, I’ll get to you someday!

Disclaimer: this is not completely comprehensive or nuanced in the slightest, it’s just a quick overview guide. Do your own research xoxo.

[Image ID: to the left is a picture of a woman in a light blue dress and a pink hood gazing out at a lake. The hood has a skirt that falls over her shoulders, and there is along thin pipe attached to the back of the hood that dangles to her knees. The edges of the hood are decorated with burgundy crochet. The picture is captioned “beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, literal goals.” End ID]

[Image ID: To the right is a picture of a typical renn faire outfit. It has a white poofy underdress, a black corset, and a brown skirt. There is a red cross drawn over the image. It is captioned “very pretty, but definitely not medieval sorry!” End ID]

Second slide: Underwear (ooh la la)

Now with nasty pocketses

[Image ID: a picture of gollum, from lord of the rings, snarling in disgust. There is a line in The Hobbit where he asks Bilbo what he has in his nasty little pocketses, which is what I am referencing. End ID]

So, corsets, stays, and shapewear in general kind of wasn’t a thing yet. So your underwear was a shift, which was awesome because it was also your pajamas. They were usually made of linen, though some might have been made of cotton is you were rich.

[Image ID: A plain white linen garment laid out flat on the floor. It is a dress that hangs to about knee length, with elbow length sleeves. An arrow points to it with text reading “this is a shift”. End ID]

There is evidence for supportive shifts for busy support, like this one from the fourteenth century!

[Image ID: a second shift, worn by a female presenting person. It is laced up the front, and is a lot tighter and more fitted, especially around the bust. It has straps instead of sleeves. End ID]

There’s also this bra like fragment found in Austria, but that is a whole debate so.

[Image ID: A bra-like garment fitted to a mannequin. It seems to be made out of white linen, coloured with time. The left cup is damaged, and overall the garment looks incomplete. End ID]

Then, over the shift, yet under your main dress went your pockets, which tied on at the waist. Your dresses had slits do that you could get at your stuff without flashing everyone lol.

[Image ID: A picture of medieval pockets. They are upside down teardrop shaped, but the point is flat and is part of the waist ties. There are slits in the side up the top to access the inside. They are cream coloured with bright floral embroidery. The caption reads “these bad boys can fit so many cool pebbles.” End ID]

[Image ID: A young female-presenting person wearing medieval clothing. She has her hands in the pocket slits of her dress. They are just below hip height. End ID]

Third slide: your dress, or the cotehardie. (Pronounced coat hardy)

Over the shift you put your dress, sometimes referred to as either a kirtle or cotehardie. 14th century people started actually form-fitting their clothes more than previous centuries. These needed fastenings, which were mostly lacings (spiral lacings specifically), or buttons made of either metal or cloth, used at the front of the dress from neckline to waist, and on the sleeves from elbow to wrist, with exceptions of course.

(Sidenote: fuck sleeves, all my homies hate sleeves)

[Image ID: a woman in a warm yellow dress to the left of the text. The dress is constructed simply, with a single piece of fabric used for the length of the body so there is no waist seam. The skirt is widened by inserting four triangles, one each at the front and back, and one on each side. The front has buttons made of the same fabric as the dress, that go down to the belt at the waist. The sleeves have similar buttons from wrist to elbow, on the outside of the arm. The woman is also wearing a liripipe hood. End ID]

Dresses seemed to be mostly wool, though I often use linen for mine because I live in Australia and it’s hot in summer and I don’t want to die. Most often they weren’t lined (that is what the underwear was for).

[Image ID: in the top left of the slide is a woman wearing a green woollen dress. It is constructed the same as the previous image, except it has spiral lacing on the front instead of buttons. The sleeves are fastened by three small buttons. She is wearing a simple and veil. End ID]

[Image ID: the top right of the slide shows a woman in a teal coloured dress, similar to the one before. This one has metal buttons at the sleeves and down the front. She wears a veil only. End ID]

The neckline of these dresses was usually round or an oval shape, and some manuscripts have it so wide that it falls off the shoulders slightly.

[Image ID: A photo of a medieval manuscript, depicting six medieval ladies in a row holding hands. The neckline of their dresses is wide enough that the tops of their shoulders are visible. The image is captioned “me and the girls on a Friday night”. End ID]

Clothing was a lot more colourful than the movies would have us believe lol.

[Image ID: Three women, each in dresses similar to the ones before. To the left is a forest green, the middle one is bright saffron yellow, and the one to the right is a vibrant tomato red. End ID].

Fourth slide: Dress two; electric boogaloo

[Image ID: Merry and Pippin from lord of the rings. Above them, meme text reads “we’ve had one, yes”, and then continues below with “but what about second dress?”. End ID]

You could also wear an overdress, which was usually of a contrasting colour and had shorter sleeves.

As well as fashion, they would have been used for extra warmth, and so were usually made of wool.

[Image ID: a woman in a maroon coloured dress like the ones on the previous slide. The sleeves stop just above her elbow, revealing a blue dress underneath. End ID].

Common people would have only owned a couple of different outfits, as fabric was super expensive.

[Image ID: various pictures of women with examples of an overdress. They are all constructed the same as the overdress, but with shorter sleeves that reveal a second sleeve of a different colour underneath. End ID]

A common late thirteenth to mid fourteenth century overdress was the ladies surcoat, which had big holes instead of sleeves.

Belts would have been worn underneath the surcoat.

[Image ID: three photos of women wearing surcoats. They are normal dresses, except there is a large D shape cut out of either side, leaving a large hole from the shoulder to below the hip. They have no buttons down the front. One of the surcoats is made of red brocade, and obviously belongs to an upper-class impression. End ID].

Fifth slide: Hair and headwear

Hair was worn braided and pinned up, with a coif (cap) and either a wimple or veil, or both. The wimple and/or veil were usually pinned to the coif, or secured on a band of fabric around the head.

Veils would be either oval, or a D shape. Wimples were rectangular. A wimple goes under the chin and a veil goes over your head.

[Image ID: a close up of a woman wearing a wimple. It is made of a light fabric, likely silk. The wimple wraps under her chin and is secured at the back of her head. A narrow band of fabric or possibly leather circles her brow, which would have been used to secure the wimple. End ID.]

[Image ID: A picture of YouTuber Morgan Donner wearing a wimple and veil. The wimple wraps under her chin, and the veil is placed on top of her head, draping down past her shoulders. It does not cover her face. Loops of hair are visible either side of her face. End ID]

All the headwear would be made of linen, thin wool, or silk, depending on class. The veils could also be made really fancy by ruffling the front edge or by attaching pearls.

[Image ID: a woman in a wimple and half-circle veil. The edge of the veil that frames her face is elaborately ruffled. The edge of a coif is visible under the veil. End ID]

I ride the bus in my medieval gear a lot because of events, and way too many people think I’m Amish because of my veil. It’s honestly just funny at this point. I should keep a tally.

[Image ID: a woman wearing a St Birgitta’s coif, pinning a wimple at the back of her head. The coif is a simple white linen cap that encloses the head, with a line of lace down the centre of the head. It is secured with a loop of linen around the head. End ID].

[Image ID: a picture of someone with plaits that have been pinned around the head like a crown. It is captioned “you could also pin your hair up like this”. End ID]

Working women might have just wrapped their head in a scarf instead, fuck this fancy shit right?

[Image ID: a woman in a headscarf that has been twisted and then looped around the front of her head. It is captioned #girlboss. End ID].

Fake braids were a thing! Blonde hair in particular was very fashionable, and bleaching or fake braids were sometimes used to achieve that.

[Image ID: two fake braids made of a coarse fibre. They are blonde in colour, and are looped like a hairstyle seen on many of the reenactors. They have white ribbons attached to the top end to help secure them to the head. End ID]

Sixth slide: Cloaks and hoods

These would have actually been two seperate garments! Integrated hoods on cloaks didn’t actually become a thing until the … seventeenth century or so? (Citation needed).

Cloaks were a lot simpler than the typical cloak we think of nowadays. Often they were just a rectangle of wool, or by the fourteenth century, sometimes a half circle.

They were almost always wool as far as I know, and were generally fastened by a cloak pin or buttons.

[Image ID: a metal cloak pin. It is a circle with a small opening at one point. A long pin is attached via a loop, allowing it to slide along the pin. It can fit through the opening in the circle. To use one, you would gather the fabric on the pin, and then slot the circle over the pin and then turn it, so the fabric is trapped between circle and pin. This is much easier to demonstrate than describe. The picture is captioned “these bad boys are the real MVP’s though”. End ID].

[Image ID: a diagram showing the construction of the bocksten man cloak. It is a half circle pieced together by laying strips of fabric together. In the centre of the flat side, a half circle is cut out for the neck. End ID]

[Image ID: a reconstruction of the bocksten man cloak. It is orange wool, and lined with an off-white linen. It is fastened on the right shoulder by three fabric buttons. It would fall to just above the wearers knees. End ID].

Women’s hoods could be short and open, or with a longer skirt and closed with buttons. Liripipe (pronounced leery-pipe) hoods were named for the tube of fabric that dangled off the back of your hood, varying in length. As well as a fashion statement, it could also be wrapped around the neck like a scarf if it got cold.

Hoods were nearly always wool I’m pretty sure, though they were often lined with linen, silk, or cotton.

[General description: a short liripipe hood would be open, with the bottom only reaching your shoulders. They were made from a single piece of fabric that would wrap over your head, with the seam down the centre back of your head. It was flared at the bottom by inserting triangular gores. At the front edge near your face there would be a strip jutting out that went from one side of your chin, over your head, and down to the other side. This would usually be folded back, revealing the lining colour. The bottom of the hood could either just reach the base of your neck, or reach down to just past your shoulders. The former would usually be open at the front, with fastenings optional. The latter option with the longer skirt was almost always able to be fastened up the front with fabric buttons. The liripipe itself was a thin flat tube of fabric fastened at the centre top back of the hood. End ID]

Fun fact, 90% of why I decided to reenact the fourteenth century specifically was because of liripipe hoods.

Seventh slide: Feet (not in a weird way)

Hose were used to keep your legs warm. For women they were usually knee height, and fastened just underneath it with a garter or tie.

[Image ID: a single light yellow hose, belted beneath the knee with a leather garter. The seam is down the centre back of the leg going all the way to your toes, and then around the top of the foot in front of where it connects to your leg. End ID]

Hose usually would have been made from wool, and were cut on the diagonal (bias) of the fabric to get the maximum stretch possible from the fabric. They still were looser than modern tights are though!

Knitted socks were also a thing I’m pretty sure, but I don’t know enough about them. Sorry!

Shoes were simple, usually referred to as turnshoes because of how they were made. Fun fact: the lack of foot support means that turnshoes are similar to going barefoot in terms of how you walk. Some reenactors love it, some hate it, and some are indifferent lol.

[Image ID: a pair of turnshoes made of dark leather. They have a strap that would fasten around the front of the ankle, similar to some modern shoes. The toes are pointed, and it is captioned “pointy toes were fashionable, especially for men”. End ID].

Because shoes were really hard to waterproof, (ask me how I know), and didn’t have solid soles, wooden pattens (pronounced pat-tens) were worn to keep you off the ground while outside.

[Image ID: a person wearing a pair of wooden pattens over their shoes, standing on a drenched cobblestone street. They are wooden platforms with an archway on the bottom, and are attached to the foot with leather straps around the toe, ankle, and around the back of the heel, similar to modern sandals. The image is captioned “ye old crocs”. End ID].

[Image ID: a woman’s leg with the skirts drawn back, revealing the bright yellow hose underneath. It is fastened below the knee with a strip of fabric. She wears a turnshoe with a buckled strap. End ID]

Eighth slide: Accessories

These are a few other items that might have made up a working woman’s outfit.

Aprons would definitely have been used while working. One were just a large rectangle of cloth tucked into the belt, some were smocked to draw in the fabric. They generally stopped at the waist.

[Image ID: a woman in a red dress, with a very light brown apron. It is smocked at the top, and is attached around the waist with a string. End ID].

Pretty broaches and other jewellery existed! There was cheaper stuff made of pewter for the lower classes.

[Image ID: five gold brooches, studded with different jewels and pearls. End ID].

They had a funny sense of humour as well… and they weren’t all prudes.

[Image ID: a pewter broach of a cat carrying a dick and balls in its mouth. It is captioned “you can actually buy these. I know a website.” End ID].

Eating knives were worn on the belt, though it is debated whether women would have carried one. I do because I’m a modern fourteenth century woman.

[Image ID: a small knife with a wooden handle, laying on top of a leather sheath that has been dyed red. End ID]

Belts are a curiously debated topic. Some people reckon that women would have definitely worn them, others say they they weren’t used by women much at all. As far as I know there are depictions of both, so choose what you’d prefer. They are great for hanging stuff on I gotta say.

[Image ID: a coiled up brown leather belt. The buckle and tip are a gold metal, and it has decorative flower studs along its length in the same metal. End ID]

Pretty little purses would have probably been worn. I don’t know enough about them to say anything else though.

[Image ID: two different pictures of reenactors wearing purses. One is brocade and the other a red fabric. They are in the shape of an upright triangle, and both have five tassels hanging from the bottom edge. They hang off the belt with long drawstrings. Unrelated to the purses, one of the women is wearing a gorgeous orange liripipe hood, that is embroidered and dagged on the bottom skirt edge. End ID]

Ninth slide: Fancy Shmancy

There is a lot I haven’t covered, especially in the realm of the upper classes. Here is some of what has been missed. (Buckle up because this section is very image heavy. I will be as concise as possible).

Heraldic dresses! If you are interested, go check out Morgan Donners video on YouTube.

[Image ID: a picture of Morgan Donner in her heraldic dress. One half of the dress is red, and the other is green, except for where it has been cut out by white with an ermine pattern on it. Her hair is unbound and uncovered, except by a small flower crown. It is captioned “Morgan bestie do your hair properly :(“. End ID]

[Image ID: a drawing of two women in heraldic dresses. The first has a blue right half with a yellow printed design. The top left of the dress is yellow with a blue fish, and the bottom left is red with a white fish. Her train is held by the second lady, who’s dress is blue on the right, and white with green birds on the left. End ID].

Fancy headpieces for rich bitches only.

[Image ID: a reenactor doing a high class impression. Her hair is bound up in Pearl studded hair nets on either side of her head like modern earmuffs, with a spiked coronet around her brow. She has a sheer silk wimple on. End ID]

Fancy dagged edged on hoods, sleeves, dresses, etc.

[Dagging description: where the edge has been cut away to make decorative dangly bits. One hood has red leaves around the bottom edge for example, and another just has a pretty geometric pattern. End description].

Brocade gowns! So pretty!

[Image ID: several different pictures of high class ladies wearing brocade gowns of different colours. These are similar to the wool dresses we were looking at earlier, but with longer trains, and often long draping sleeves. There is even a brocade surcoat. End ID]

Fancy sleeves!

[Image ID: examples of different long sleeves. On some, the sleeve is normal until the elbow, and then it falls away to a long strip of fabric that dangles to the ground. Not mentioned on the slide itself is tippets, which was a band of (usually white) fabric just above your elbow, with a thin strip of the same fabric that draped down to the floor. End ID].

Dresses that were two different colours.

[Image ID: examples of dresses that are exactly like the earlier wool dresses, except they are literally half one colour and half another. The manuscript example is a blue and red overdress with fancy sleeves, and the reenactor example is a yellow and green underdress with a red hood. End ID]

And of course, some of the funky fun fabric choices.

[Image ID: a manuscript depiction of a woman carrying a dead bird. Her hood is red and white striped horizontally, and her dress is dark and light blue striped, also horizontally. End ID].

[Image ID: a manuscript depicting a woman talking to a second lady in a chair. The dress on the first has horizontal stripes of white, red, yellow, and blue, repeated, and the second has horizontal stripes of white, pink, and light blue. Interestingly enough the latter colours are very similar to the transgender flag which would make a very cool dress project. Hmm. End ID].

Tenth (and final) slide: In summery

(Small red text below title reads “I hope you have enjoyed” with a drawn smiling face).

Dis you notice all the “usually” “commonly” and “often’s” in there? That’s because I cannot possibly illustrate everything that we know of the time in only ten slides, nor do I know everything, so I have just tried to show what seems to be the most depicted.

Note: I probably even got some stuff wrong by the way.

If you’re interested in this stuff, I really recommend doing your own research now! Hopefully I have given you a good overview of what a fourteenth century womens outfit might have looked like, so now you can go fourth and know what you’re looking for.

If you have any questions about costuming, reenactment, or anything else, feel free to contact me!! I respond on Timblr decently fast ☺️

[Image ID: a reenactor sitting on a log, staring into the distance with a slight smile. She is wearing a grey-blue dress, belted at the waist with a small purse dangling from it. She has a dark blue cape and a light blue hood, that has fallen back to show a ruffled white veil. There is a pewter broach on her hood. A leather turnshoe peeks out from beneath the hem of her dress. End ID]

A list of helpful YouTubers:

Elin Abrahamsson

Morgan Donner

Opus Elenae

Miss Joss (her instagram is more active).

Now go hydrate!!

[Image ID: a woman in fourteenth century garb drinking from a jug. End ID]

[bucketsofmonsters]

I was wondering, in Proper Etiquette (my favourite of your writings) Reader is wearing dresses and corsets all the time (which is Wonderful and corsets are Not Evil Actually they're literally a bra that supports the weight of heavy layers of skirts BUT I DIGRESS) but how would Rygel react to his wife, feeling a little cold as fall comes along, asks to have a sweater like he's wearing and some warm pants or a wool skirt and petticoat to wear with the sweater, rather than her usual fine clothes that clearly aren't built for the weather in her new home

You’re so real for the corset thing, I will defend corsets until the day I die. Also sorry this took me forever

Rygel ran hot. You were well aware of that fact by now. Every time you pressed up against him he radiated heat, more than any person you’d ever been near, although to be fair you didn’t have much of a frame of reference. 

What had taken a bit longer was realizing they all did. 

When you’d first arrived it had been summer, a little colder than the summers you were accustomed to, but nothing too severe. 

But then winter had come, and with it, something unfamiliar to you. With it came the snow. 

It was a perfect coincidence for them because while they seemed largely comfortable in the cold of your new home, you were not. You were instead accustomed to a little rain in the winter, maybe some cold winds, but nothing an extra layer or two couldn’t combat. 

This was far from that. At first, the snow had been delightful. You’d only ever heard stories and caught glimpses of it on the peaks of faraway mountains, but here it was all around you. 

As the novelty faded, it became a bit more of a problem. 

You tried what you’d always done, adding layers and bundling up, but you just didn’t have enough. Nothing you had was built for this kind of cold and it wasn’t like you could borrow clothes from someone, you’d drown in the sheer amount of fabric.

So instead you stood, bundled under layers that were helpless against the biting cold. You’d barely been outside for a few minutes before you’d rushed back into the warmth of your room but the cold had settled in your bones and couldn’t be snuffed out so easily. 

Your jaw was clenched to stop your teeth from chattering, your whole body wound tight, trying to preserve what little heat you had. 

“I’m not built for this,” you said with a huff as you collapsed backward onto your bed, wrapping yourself in blankets. 

Rygel huffed out a laugh from his desk, his attention still focused on whatever he was reading. “Not built for what?”

“Winter. Not here at least. I think I might go into hibernation.”

He froze, eyes widening before he turned to you. “Oh my god, you’re cold. Of course you are, I should’ve prepared for this.”

You cut him off. “No, I’m fine, really. I’ve been keeping inside as much as I can, the layers have been helping, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

He did not seem convinced. “We don’t have any clothes that’ll fit you. Hell, we don’t have warm enough clothes anyway. Shit. You should’ve told me.” His words were dripping with concern as the full implications of his mistake hit him. 

“Rygel,” you said, trying to cut through the worry and reassure him. “I’m fine, really, it’s not a big deal. I can stay inside for a season, god knows there’s more than enough fires and blankets in this place to keep me warm.”

“I should have realized. I forget how fragile your kind are, I should have seen this coming, gotten you some real clothes. As much as I love those dresses, we have to get you in some furs. ”

 “We are not fragile, you are just all far too sturdy. And besides, I like my dresses.”

“Mmhmm,” he hummed dismissively with a smile. “Sure we are. I really should have been more careful with you though. Your safety is more important than anything. I will keep you warm if it’s the last thing I do, even if we do have to cover up those pretty little dresses. Now, how will I ever manage to keep you warm until we can get you some better-suited clothes?”

You climbed onto his lap, ducking underneath his shirt, and pressed up close to him, absorbing his heat as you felt a chuckle run through his chest. “Maybe I shouldn’t get you warm clothes,” he said as a steady arm wrapped around you. “I think I prefer this.”

You hummed in agreement. “Plus it’s very dignified.”

His hand scooped under you, lifting you while keeping you close to him. “Very.”

You happily nuzzled further into his chest and he returned to his work, his arm still firmly wrapped around you. You were sure he’d find something for you, get you warmer clothes and make sure you were safe and warm and happy. His concern more than convinced you of that. 

And when all else failed, at least your husband ran hot.

[thefirstforgottenpages]

Tag Me in!

Authors note: ikikik this isn’t my main blog and blah blah but RHEA RIPLEY???? HELLO???? never have I ever been more down tf bad for a woman in my life she’s so FINE! that being said, here’s a fic to fuel my delusions <3

Warnings: smut, praise, mommy/mami kink, strap(reader receiving), oral,frenemies to lovers, manhandling, wrestler!Reader, charlotte flair and nia jax (sorry if y’all like them), smut with a slight plot?!?!? No wayyyy!!! anddd I think that’s it 

Hope you enjoyyyy

You guys were the underdogs. The whole WWE universe knew it. Even though you and Rhea were crowd favorites, the combined strength of a tag team consisting of the Charlotte flair and Nia freakin Jax? Even you were a bit unsettled about the odds. You let out a shaky breath admittedly nervous, struggling to lace your sports bra’s corset-like ties, you groan, angered, but it quick turns into a gasp when a pair of large hands trail down your back.

Whipping around, you’re relieved albeit a bit pissed, to see Rhea smirking down at you. “Don’t you have anywhere better to be?” You roll your eyes but nonetheless a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. Rhea chuckles, a sound that annoyingly makes your smile grow wider. “Not when you look like that.” She purrs. You grimace waving her off even though a blush dusts your cheeks at her flirtatious words.

“Ripley, I will pin you myself in that ring.” You growl back— you’re only half serious. You look her up and down before shaking your head you return to your vanity. “Nahh you hate Flair and Jax too much to do that.” Rhea rasps, her muscular arms wrapping around your waist to shake you playfully. She places her head in the crook of your neck before pulling away. You can’t help but notice the longing twinge in your stomach as she lets go. 

“Damn straight I do,” you chide cheekily, “And if you’d be a doll and let me get ready— maybe we’d win!” You give her arm a teasing shove. “Not with that puny strength we won’t.” Rhea tilts her head up grinning at your indignation. You tsk, preceding to lean closer to the vanity glass to apply your signature makeup. You’re concentrated until you look up making eye contact with Rhea through the mirror. You both look away. Rhea’s gaze focuses on the top of her studded combat boots while yours falls upon your makeup bag.

This is how your relationship was with her. You’d flirt, fight, then shyly not talk to each other. It would drive you wild. The glances. The stares. The insults. The glares. You loved to hate-love her. Irrelevant to how much  you protested to even harboring a smidgen of a crush on her, your friends would give you absolute hell for it. 

In fact, the last conversation you had with one of them— Liv Morgan, came to mind in your fazed out state. “Rhea’s only ever like that if she likes someone, she’s just really bad at… well… being nice.”  You give a small glance to the woman once more. She was infuriating… yet you couldn’t deny she was quite literally the most gorgeous, determined, and strong person you’d ever met. You shake your hand another small secretive smirk gracing your lips as you continue to busy yourself with your makeup. So here you sat, the woman of your thoughts standing tall and brooding behind you.

You didn’t know how you felt about Rhea Ripley anymore.

“You… need help with the ties?” Rhea’s low voice breaks the silence— and your swirling musings. You nod words failing you and soon feel her hands once more trail gently over the expanse of your skin. You suck in a breath as the corset sinches you in. Your breath stays held as Rhea’s hand stays at the arch of your back. Looking over your shoulder, you make eye contact with the raven haired woman. As Rhea parts her obsidian lips a deafening knock is heard on the other side of the dressing room door. “Ripley!! you’re on in 5!” Rhea and your stage name is shouted through the door at you, the noise stuns you back to the present moment once more.

Rhea’s demeanor stiffens and her hands finally drop from your waist. You swear you see a flicker of unease settle on her strong features before it’s wiped away by her signature cocky glare. Your expression nearly mirrors hers as you nudge her shoulder a Cheshire Cat grin taking over your features. “Save it for when we win love.” The term of endearment is cooed at you while a remix of your and Rhea’s theme plays signaling your entrance. And as she wrapped her arm around your waist to lead you into the ring you find yourself leaning into her muscular form unafraid of the task to come. 

Later, back in your shared hotel, you were sulking. Although you had won— much to Rhea’s teasing delight, (So much delight in fact that she had picked you up kissing you on the cheek as you clung to her beaming towards the cameras). You were deathly sore from the fight. You had taken quite a few blows from the formidable force that was Nia Jax. You murmur softly arching your back at the sharp pain. A gruff deep chuckle sounds behind you. “That bad huh?” you sigh nodding, eyes widening when you take in Rhea’s post-game appearance; Her hair fluffed out and still damp from her shower, low waisted sweatpants precariously hanging on her hips. “You look rough.” You say lying right through your teeth. With a warm realization, you found yourself wanting…her.

“Not as rough as you.” Rhea retorts, except there’s not any malice behind it. Her blue eyes soften as the soft smile she has come to love graces your features. “You don’t mean that.” You say it as a statement because you know she doesn’t. “I don’t.” Comes her uncharacteristically warm reply. Your cheeks heat at the sincerity.  

“You did good,” You muse, you don’t miss the way Rhea’s breath hitches as your hand comes to soothe a blooming bruise on her cheekbone. “In the ring I mean.” You giggle clarifying, as Rhea closes her eyes at the sensation of your smaller hand on her. “We actually make a rather good team when we’re not fighting.” Rhea mumbles, practically leaning on you with a tiredness that matched your own.

It was intolerable being this close to her, you thought. But as your gaze fluttered over her features once more, you realize that it isn’t. It isn’t intolerable being this close to Rhea, quite the opposite actually.

It was entirely too tolerable being this close to her.

The calm silence that hangs in the room speaks volumes. But your steady voice breaks it. “I think I’ve liked you for a while now.” You confess lowly, shrinking in, self conscious when Rhea stiffens. 

You relax, however, as her lips meet yours. You whine into the kiss when Rhea’s body presses against yours. There was a possessiveness to her actions that already had you shivering in anticipation. You pull away out of breath. Rhea kissed like she fought. In charge, and demanding.

You loved it.

“I think I like you too.” Rhea’s voice has a gravelly timbre to it and it sends you reeling. You don’t register her jest until her thumb swipes across your bottom lip. Her hands find their way to your lower back and you don’t hesitate to jump into Rhea’s arms as she pulls you toward the messy hotel bed. 

She practically throws you onto it. You shriek laughing, as Rhea hauls herself atop you, pressing her nose to yours. 

Another giggle sprawls out of you when her shaggy hair falls to your neck. “Rhea…” The way you say her name has Rhea shuddering. Your voice was already deliciously pitched and breathy. She couldn’t wait to ruin you she thought as her smirk deepened at your keens.

“I’m not stopping if you’re going to say my name like that again.” Her mouth is near your ear, you shudder when you hear the unspoken meaning behind them. You wanted her. And you wanted her to know that. Arching your back, you lock your legs around her, hands coming up to softly grip both sides of her face. “Then don’t stop.” 

The next kiss that Rhea places on your skin, is much lower than before. She looks up at you questioningly as she slowly lifts the hem of your oversized shirt. You nod quickly needing nothing more than to feel your skin on hers.

Your eyes roll when her second set of kisses run over your chest focusing on the soft underside of your perky boobs. “Mmm—baby-“ the pet name falls off your tongue before you can stop yourself. Rhea seems to like it however as she huffs out a husky groan of your name. 

“What do you need darling?” the sharpness of her accent shocks you, and needily, your hands weave themselves into Rhea’s raven hair. She laughs softly as you give it an experimental tug. “Go ahead sweetheart, mommy likes it rough.” Her gruff words come as a surprise to you. And at the use of her nickname, you find yourself clenching around nothing. 

You choke out her name one more time as her nimble fingers ghost beneath the waistband of your shorts. “So wet for me…” Rhea’s voice trails off in badly suppressed arousal as she pulls her hand back from your now dripping pussy. Your face heats when she holds your gaze licking your arousal off her slender fingers. She moans at the taste of you, arms coming to hold your now shaking legs open.

Rhea’s eyes darken as her tongue slips into your fluttering hole. You can’t help the whining slurred moans that fall past your lips as she continues to ravage you in ways you didn’t think possible. 

“M-mommy-fuck- please!” Your warbled mewls have Rhea shaking her head into your pussy and with a lustful discovery, you come to see her hips start to grind into the bed as she continues to pleasure you.

“You’re--mm-such a good girl for me.” There’s a choppiness to her voice that wasn’t there before and you whimper when you learn that her other hand had snaked down to play with herself. 

Rhea growls as your legs attempt to close at the overwhelming sensation. “I can’t make you cum if you do that sweetheart.” Your lip trembles as she forces open your legs with ease. The casual display of strength has your clit throbbing with a renewed need. “Rhea—mommy- I wanna cum.” Your voice is quiet, nearly inaudible, but Rhea’s keen ears hear you. Her middle finger comes to trace around your clit and that’s all it takes for your eyes to cross and your back to arch as you come harder than you ever have. You’re vaguely aware of the praises that Rhea is cooing to you as you come down from your high, a stupefied smile wobbling on your face. You smile coyly when she comes up to lay next to you. Giving her lips an appreciative kiss before trailing your hands over her torso. 

“I want this off.” You say slowly, referring to her black tank top. Rhea grins at you before lifting it over her head and throwing it aimlessly to the room. You whine softly when you find she’s braless, eyes intrigued by her pierced nipples. On a whim, you straddle her, head dipping low to greedily suck on her tits. Rhea’s head tips back at this and the strangled cry that you rip from her throat has you wet all over again. 

“W-wait.” Rhea’s stuttered croak has you tilting your head in confusion, but as she reaches for the bedside drawer she pulls out a black and purple strap. You raise your eyebrows at this rolling off her as she once again climbs on top of you, removing her pants in the process. 

“I was kinda hoping to get lucky tonight.” She mumbles before thrusting into you. It feels like the air is punched out of your lungs and all you can do is cling to Rhea’s biceps as she quickens the pace of her hips. 

“And seeing as I have,” she purrs her hand coming up to grip your neck. “I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon my love.”

[battleangel]

Why Cant I Be Naked Outside?

Ive been naked inside of my apartment all day for the past two days.

Im a full-time freelance podcaster.

What started out as pure laziness and a response to an arthritis flareup turned into a thought experiment:

What would happen if I went outside naked right now?

Why cant I go outside like this? Who am I hurting?

One of the biggest bullshit programming in American soeicty from the literal time we are "born" is you cant be naked outside.

Lifelong conditioning, programming, brainwashing and endless reinforcements.

And I literally cant walk outside right now naked without potentially being arrested, harrassed, assaulted, raped, abducted and/or killed.

The societal programming against public nudity is both conscious and subconscious, subtle and overt, transparent & hidden, embedded & obvious.

Why cant I go outside naked?

Bullshit automatic responses:

•Safety

•Hygiene

•"Public decency".

Lmao.

"Order & morality".

Big fucking yikes.

Why does the state have an "interest"?

Hygiene is such a crock.

The people who say omg!hygiene like the ones who commented my tiktok in my underwear are all full of shit.

The lie is vaginal discharge, menstrual bleeding and STIs (genital warts & herpes, etc) could potentially infect and/or transmit diseases, bacteria, germs, etc on public chairs, benches, seats, stadiums, etc if people werent wearing underwear.

So, they claim not wearing underwear is "unhygienic" therefore public nudity laws are necessary.

So, if I go outside in underwear that covers my butt and pussy and nothing else, were good to go right?

Ofcourse not, because there are topless laws for women.

Nipples are outlawed.

There isnt the slightest pretense about hygiene.

They just screech about "teh childrenz!" (who also have nipples btw) and "public decency" and they throw in a lie about how its "unsafe for women" when they would be the first ones out there raping the first woman who had her tits out.

Yeah, okay.

Its not about "morality", "order", "decency", "hygiene" or "safety".

Its about motherfucking control, repression, paternalism, the patriarchy, misogyny, sexualizing the female body, the contrived creation of the "forbidden" and the "taboo", its about making people hate their bodies, shame, repression, forced guilt, sex is bad, hiding the body, no confidence, never flaunting, women never owning their sexuality, Madonna/whore complex, virginity as a prized communal possession, virgin as status and trophy, women presenting themselves to men to be consumed, women presenting themselves as objects of desire, equating femininity with demureness and being ladylike with being pure innocent and virginal, female obsession with clothes hair makeup jewelry endlesd adornments plastic surgery dieting through othering their own bodied by keeping it hidden under bras underwears Spanx Skims undergarments girdles slips tights stockings skirts dresses jeans pants shorts corsets socks knee highs thigh highs, othering mystifying commodifying & pornifying the female body by keeping it hidden in real life from men until they lose their virginity and creating an environment where men depersonalize the female body and make it a vessel of their endless wet dreams and masturbatory fantasies.

If everyone was naked from jump street (we are but we dont stay that way), noone would give a shit.

Nudist colonies and beaches are like that, nudity is the everyday norm so noone reacts, cares, stares, points, ridicules, insults, harrasses, etc.

They all just go about their day at the beach, eating, shopping -- so then, why cant we all do that at non-nudist colonies & beaches?

Please.

They want the rapes, sexual assaults, molestation, sexual abuse, hebephilia, pedophilia, sex addictions and compulsions, sex disorders, repressions & traumas.

Its a tool of societal control to control the populace just like violence is.

US has the most violence per capita in the world.

Gun deaths, shootings, stabbings and murders.

It doesnt have to be this way.

They want it this way.

Why are my vulva, labia and nipples such a problem?

Why has my naked female body been so sexualized, otherized & dehumanized?

Why is a natural thing -- my naked female human body as is -- something that is met with such force, sexualized violence, oppression, repressed desires, rage, outrage, anger, terror, shock, revulsion, arrests, being killed while in custody, jailed, convicted, fined?

Why cant I just walk outside like this, fully naked, and check the mail all of two minutes away and then walk right back to my apartment without saying anything or interacting with anyone?

Why does my landlord care?

Why does the mailman care?

Why does the white stay at home Karen, her dry ass husband and Little Timmy and Madison care?

Why does the maintenance man at my apartment complex care?

Why do my three neighbors in my apartment complex -- all male and single -- one downstairs under me, one upstairs and one downstairs in the unit next to me care?

Why does the person walking their dog care?

Why does the doordash delivery driver care?

Why does the school bus driver care?

Why does a naked female body elicit such strong, visceral, ugly, vicious, violent, unhinged responses?

[thirsty-hoes-central]

If I read another fic that mentions corsets, I’m going to wreck shit, and not in a good way. So I’m gonna give everyone a little history lesson. Firstly, I’ll start by differentiating the main types of fantasy. There’s medieval fantasy, such as Game of Thrones and Lord of the Rings. Then there’s steampunk fantasy. Think Shadow and Bones. And finally there’s modern fantasy like Harry Potter. Great, now how does this relate to corsets? Well, let’s start by defining what a corset is. A corset was an undergarment that’s main purpose was to support the bust. They also shaped the wearer’s body to match the fashionable silhouette. No these weren’t torture devices that women were forced to wear because they were just so oppressed. I’ve literally worn a multiple corsets before, they’re much more comfortable than most modern bras. Anyways, corsets weren’t worn until the Victorian era. Before that they were wearing stays and before that the bust support was built into the garment. So during medieval times, women would not be wearing any under structures. There underwear would consist solely of a white linen shift. Not to mention that women wouldn’t be wearing anything on there bottom half unless maybe it’s that time of month (it’s debated what exactly they would wear, but we know that they’d have to wear something). You want to know why women didn’t wear anything on their bottom half? Ease of access to the chamber pot. Also, it’s a smock, not a chemise. The term chemise wasn’t used until the Victorian era.

[annebrontesrequiem]

Sorry not done, more bitching about this book (Napoleon and the Empire of Fashion).

"For the first time in centuries [italics mine] women abandoned hooped dresses, boning and claustrophobic corsets to follow the shape of the body."

Centuries??? Are you sure??? Again, corsets are still not a thing yet, we're entering that beautiful transitory period between fashion. I'm still saying that the pairs of bodies in 1595 were not in fact comparable to a corset the way we think of now. But like. I'm not winning this debate I guess.

But like, please guys, corsets aren't supposed to be claustrophobic. Not to personal experience this, but I can touch my toes in my stays. I actually quite like wearing them. Like, c'mon.

Also, hooped dresses? I mean, sure? I just am afraid when you say that we aren't talking about spanish farthingales and the like and you just didn't think this sentence through. Again, I'm being so charitable with only 200 years. If I took centuries as going back to like the 1400s... no.

Tw: Anorexia mention (I tagged this but just in case)

"Napoleon, in a grey redingote and green uniform apparently didn't seem at all interested in the fashion world, staining Josephine's pink dress that he didn't like that night, forcing her to change, not hiding is [sic] passion for her ultra-slim figure: and here we have the first case of anorexic style."

Okay like. Who edited this. This sentence is not a sentence. It is multiple sentences smushed together to create my worst nightmare. What is with that ending? Like, guys. Also didn't seem at all interesting in the fashion world? Your entire book - and the rest of the sentence - is arguing against this? And the next sentence doesn't start with but!! It goes off on your shitty ed analogy (which does not work by the way because like, that was not the fashionable silhouette at the time. You literally compared short stays to push up bras a few sentences later guys, pick a lane). I assume it's a typo cause this book is all typos but c'mon!!!

And like, I'm not going too deep into it but bad analogy, bad analogy. Fashion does not have to be hip with the kids. Please do not compare Napoleon having the hots for Josephine with EDs, it's just kinda shitty and like, wrong? It's literally wrong! It's not even kinda wrong. And like, NO. BAD ANALOGY GO BACK AND REVISE YOUR CHAPTER!

There's more in here but like, I don't want to make my bitching too long. I just... ughhhh. Please guys, why don't we talk about fashion as neoclassicism for five minutes and become a much better book!

[discountalien-pancake]

Historical corsets ≠ modern elastic shapewear. Body talk below the cut.

The most similar comparison would be a modern longline bra, and even then it’s not the same because most modern bras are elasticated. Corsets are cut to fit you. They are cut. To fit. The person wearing them! What I mean by that is Spanx and other elastic shapewear is literally cut so much smaller in circumference than the body meant to fit into it. Corsets were sized smaller only at the waist, where the body is capable of squishing around quite a bit. The hips and bust were generally cut to either fit or be larger than the actual measurements of the person!

A corset is recommended to measure 4” smaller at the waist than the person it is intended for. 2” of that is to be left open at the back as gap. This can increase or decrease as needed as the shape of the wearer changes day to day. The remaining 2” are the standard reduction for an average adult cis woman.

But crucially, a corset is self-supporting. It stays up on its own. You don’t need shoulder straps or grippy silicone or a super tight elastic band to keep itself up the way a modern bra does. You wanna know why? Because it sits on your fucking hips. It’s not going anywhere. Even if you only lace it down to where you get no reduction whatsoever, it will not slip down or fall off. You do not need to reduce anything when wearing a corset! You can make/buy a corset that fits you exactly with no reduction!

The same is not true of a modern bra. The band size is physically always smaller than your actual body. You cannot functionally wear a modern bra that has a band that is actually as long as your underbust circumference because it will gape. The straps are usually also elastic, which means if you tighten them to the point they stay up, they are digging into your shoulders and if you loosen them until they’re comfortable they slide right off.

I’m not saying corsets work for everyone or that they are universally comfortable. There’s definitely things about them that some people will never be comfortable with, just on a sensory level. But they are not spanx, which is the fucking devil.

[gh-0-stcup]

Been super into time travel fics lately. My fav part (aside from Buffy meeting William) is the essential fashion montage. You know, where Buffy goes shopping or has somebody buy her a bunch of new clothes suitable for a pretty lady of the era?

Since I've already done a jewelry spam, here's some corset references for the lovely writers out there 🙂

Like all fashion trends, corsetry changed through the years. Some of what we refer to as corsets were actually known as stays. Those are stiffer and have more boning than corsets.

Stays kind of developed into corsets. So Darla and the women of Liam's time would have worn stays, but Drusilla and the women of William Pratt's day would have worn corsets.

Here are two examples of stays from the late 1700s. The first is from 1740-1760, the second 1770-1780.

Some stays from the 1600s. I'm not entirely sure which decade in particular each are from, but these are along the lines of what Darla would have been wearing.

There's not a whole lot of pieces that have survived this long, but here's two from around the time Darla would have been alive.

You can probably see what I meant when I said stays had more boning than corsets. It's very tight with few gaps between, creating a firmer conical shape than most corsets.

The first is a real corset from the late 1800s, the second a reproduction. As I mentioned earlier, fashion varied significantly from decade to decade throughout the 1800s. If you're having a character picking out an entirely new wardrobe, it's best to find references by searching "18xx's fashion" as opposed to just "Victorian fashion" or "1800's fashion".

Otherwise, you might end up describing a totally anachronistic silhouette. Like putting clothes from a 70's bargain bin on a character from 2004 and calling it "the newest look". (Unless ofc this is entirely unimportant to you because you're not a massive dork).

Anyway, another Very Important Thing about corsets. They were not uncomfortable. They did not restrict breathing or movement. Tightlacing was not mandatory. Farm workers, maids, and aristocrats alike wore corsets or stays every day for centuries and got through their lives just fine.

A properly fit corset provides support for both the breast and back. It's obviously more constricting than being naked, but so are bras and clothing in general. Some women who've tried reproduction corsets that were tailored to their bodies even say they find it more comfortable than a bra.

Contrary to the modern idea that corsets are a symbol of woman's oppression, the idea that corsets were painful or harmful actually comes largely from sexist men who looked down on women's fashion trends.

Basically, it'd be really cool to see a scene where Buffy puts on a corset that was made for her and is surprised by it not literally being the worst thing ever.

OH! And while we're on the topic of Victorian undergarments, one thing I never see in fics is an accurate depiction of their underwear. Yes, they were silly frilly shorts. They also had a slit down the middle to allow women to pee without taking their skirts off. Their coochies were easily accessible if you got through all the skirts and it's a crime that more people don't know about this.

[crymeariveronceagain]

Share thoughts about the portrayal of structures underbodices please?

old fashioned bra.

people need to stop thinking that women back then were SOOO oppressed like no dude it was just a normal piece of clothing because bras hadn't been invented yet like how else are you gonna keep things together up there? idk? binding doesnt work well because we went from that to the corset im pretty sure, and like, corsets worked and millions and billions of women wore them during work and exercise and go outdoors and ride horses and just generally lived healthy normal lives! so often you see all these actresses talking about corsets that killed them or how awful it must have been to be a woman back when they were SOOO oppressed and had to wear! corsets! well guess what my girl Queen Victoria(y'know. badass girlboss) wore a corset and never once mentioned it. bras weren't invented until 1914!!! There were female authors, writers, and women in positions of power(although they were few), and women in the workplace! And! Not to mention! The clothing industry was primarily manufactured for and TO women for millenia! If women had issues with corsets they would have been fixed centuries before corsets and stays became widely accepted undergarments. Modern women saw a few pictures like the following:

which would have actually been COMEDIC at the time, since no one would have thought that's how to properly wear a corset, and just ran with it! I'm not saying that all corsets are good, and a lot of people now a days really have twisted ideas of how corsets were used and women who wear them now are often actively harming themselves. I think that's horrible, don't do it. but most corsets and stays were worn as legitimate undergarments, much like the modern woman wears a bra. For the same exact purpose as the modern woman wears a bra. And personally, I find it gross and disgusting how we've painted all women as these helpless little damselflies who hurt themselves constantly for male approval and just were never able to escape the cruel! swift! thumb of male oppression! when in reality corsets were made to fit you by people who knew what they were doing, and were worn under literally every dress, because y'know what? you're a woman and you've got boobs and that's just how the world works. tightlacing corsets has always been considered extreme and very inaccurate, and yet in every movie or tv show involving corsets there's always some poor actress who's getting tightlaced into one on bare skin. and that's another thing! you wore light clothes under your corset and stays!!! because that crap would hurt if it was constantly rubbing up on you!!! AND WOMEN WERE SMART ENOUGH TO KNOW THIS!!! a made to form corset would not hurt a woman, and was about as safe as a bra, and a necessary part of undergarments.

women were not harmed by corsets that were properly used and properly made to fit them, and weren't tightlaced and weren'tdying or unable to breathe or suffering severe organ damage. it's insanely idiotic and uneducated for anyone especially movie and tv shows and books and whatever else to imply that that's always been the case.

I once read a book called "shatter"(one of my favorites, by APrilynne Pike) where the main character legitimately uses tightlacing as a sort of self-harm, where she knows it's not good for her and is hurting her and she kind of uses the pain to numb her situation and take her mind off of her internal turmoil. Which is BAD! Corsets were not meant for this!!!!

Anyways.

My views on corsets can really be uncovered in the following videos(i recommend the top one if you just want a good chuckle about idiocracy):

Karolina Zebrowska: "curb your corset stereotypes"

Karolina Zebrowska: "How Victorian Men Taught Us To Hate Corsets: The Biggest Lie in Fashion History"

Karolina Zebrowska: "Rating(aka roasting) Historical Movie Corsets"

i could talk about this more, and discuss the problems with painting women from the past as helpless, weak, and generally incapable. *exhales heavily*

i have thoughts and feelings, as i said lol

[notxjustxstories]

Genre Shift

kinktober day 6: voyeurism 18+ only; minors dni

summary: Wanda's been trying to get her wife into bed since the start of the Hex. In the 80s, she finally has the opportunity.

ship: Danica Holmes (f!oc) x Wanda Maximoff

wordcount: 1004

tags/warnings: situational consent issues (the hex, oc would consent ordinarily but continuity rules change her behavior), non-consensual voyeurism, oral sex

kinktober 2022 masterlist | danica holmes tag | danica/wanda masterlist

The more Wanda learned about the Hex, the more she wanted to change it. Sure, she loved sitcoms, the aesthetic, the nostalgia, but there were other things that more than counteracted the positives. The first thing she noticed was the beds. She and Viz were in separate ones, and Danica was in another room entirely. the beds were resolved easily enough, but even once the triplets were born (and oh how Kinsey had Danica's eyes), Wanda couldn't get her wife into bed with her. Literally. She was just the widowed friend she and Vision had taken in out of the kindness of their hearts.

Well, the kids were with Agnes, Vision was at work, that frustrating interloper Geraldine had been removed... there was no reason not to test what she could do in this world, right?

The Hex would fight against her if she didn't follow continuity. There was a glitch, a reset, something every time she did something wrong. Every attempt to get her wife into bed before resulted in confusion and alarm from Danica, quickly forgotten the second she was distracted.

Wanda had to get creative.

While Danica washed the dishes, Wanda sidled up behind her, placing her hands on her not-wife’s hips.

Danica gasped and jerked a little, turning her head to the woman. “Wanda, what are you doing, silly?” she asked.

“Well, I was just thinking about how generous Vision and I have been letting you stay recently…” she mused. “Don’t you think it’s appropriate that I get some form of benefit from it?” She noted the surprise and reluctance on Danica’s face. “Otherwise we might have to start charging you rent and I know how messy that can make friendships-”

“Wait!” Danica cut in, her breath hitching in her chest. “Wanda, you know I can’t afford rent anywhere, especially without a job.”

Wanda shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m sure we can work out other forms of payment…” As she spoke, her right hand drifted down, under Danica’s jeans, making the brunette gasp. A laugh escaped her at what she found. “Wet already?” she asked. “Well then, I guess this won’t be a difficult transaction at all.”

-

"What is happening?"

"I mean, Wanda wasn't just with Vision, she was with Danica Holmes, too," Darcy said.

Jimmy shook his head, still looking at the screen. "No, no- I mean-" He sighed and gestured towards the image of Wanda and Danica making out, Wanda's hand down Danica's pants. "Isn't this a little... much for 80s comedy?"

Darcy shrugged. "Maybe she switched the genre? I mean, porn first became readily available on cable in the 80s."

Jimmy stopped, popcorn halfway to his mouth. He frowned, looking at Darcy. "How do you know that?"

-

Wanda pulled her hand out of Danica's jeans, smirking into the kiss. "You're coming with me."

Danica swallowed hard, but she accepted Wanda's hand to be led up the stairs anyway.

As they entered the bedroom, Wanda grinned. Just as she hoped, the room had been transformed in to a nymphomaniac's wonderland. A sex swing in one corner, a sybian and a sex stool in another, a mirror above the bed, and more toys than she could imagine.

When she turned around, she saw a new hunger in Danica's eyes that assured Wanda that her change to the Hex had been successful. "So what do you think will suffice for payment?" she asked.

Danica moved her shaking fingers to her blouse and began unbuttoning it. "I could give you a dance," she offered, letting the shirt slide away once it was undone. Underneath, she revealed a lacy black corset bra, garter straps disappearing beneath her jeans.

"Dressed like that, I don't think you could handle just dancing for me," Wanda taunted. "Pants off, I want to see your stockings."

-

"Plot twist!"

Monica looked from the screen to Darcy. "Isn't this kind of an invasion of privacy?"

Darcy shrugged, eyes not moving from the film. "She was in your head for days, and she put it over the airwaves," she reasoned. "She's got a kink."

"And Holmes?"

"If you hook up with Wanda Maximoff for any length of time, you've gotta be a kinky fuck, too. Not to mention, we have to report if anything changes."

-

"What would you have me do?" Danica asked, unbuttoning her jeans and shimmying them down her legs. Her panties and stockings both matched her corset, but the only thing holding her panties up were a pair of bows at her hips.

Wanda hummed thoughtfully, running her finger along the line of the panties, twirling the ribbon of the bow around it. "We've got lots to discuss, but you can start by eating my pussy while you're in that sexy little number." She slowly stepped backwards, removing her own jeans as she went.

Danica took a step forward, but a short "ahp!" from Wanda stopped her. "Crawl."

Danica lowered herself onto her knees, then to her hands, making sure to keep her head up so her chest jutted out.

By the time she reached Wanda, the redhead had seated herself on the bed and removed her underwear. She placed a hand on the back of Danica's head, guiding her towards her center.

The moment Danica's mouth touched her folds, Wanda moaned, letting her own head fall back. Encouraged, Danica darted her tongue out, flicking Wanda's clit, then let it drift lower, lapping up the surge of wetness that came from her cunt.

Wanda pressed harder, forcing Danica's nose to rub her clit while she ate her out. "Oh yeah, draga, right there," she panted. Danica tilted her head up, heightening Wanda's pleasure. "Fuck!" She started thrusting back, Danica sucking and licking and nuzzling everywhere she needed it.

"Yes," Wanda panted. "Fuck, yes, ah!" She came apart on Danica's tongue, body going rigid before she fell forward, petting Danica's head.

Slowly, Danica pulled back, looking up at Wanda through dark eyes. "So, have I covered my month's rent?"

Wanda just smirked. "Yes, but you are many, many months overdue."

[kkusuka]

(i had to repost lol- it wasn’t showing up on my page)

this the request: part 3 of thiccy gf hcs ??? with kuroo, terushima, sakusa, and daichi and/or atsumu 🥺👉🏽👈🏽 i must be fed

i understand your need for them

and as a member of the thunder-thigh committee, i am happy to write about my fellow sexy women! (another 4:56 am ramble i refuse to delete)

part one

part 2 <3

i mixed this with this ask ;  Pt. 3 of the thicc af gf with Aone, Osamu, Kyotani, Daichi, Kuguri, and Terushima plz? 🥺

this got wayyyyyyyyy long

4, 685 words. my finger slipped?

Kuroo tetsuro

this guy has been trying to get you since first year

he’s that dedicated

and you didn’t even notice, he was just a flirty friend who helped you with science

(even when he would practically put you in his lap while he went over things)

lo and behold, he finally got his chance during the third year culture festival

yeah as in he waited a whole three years for this

Eh, once again, had a whole pan to make you see him as your great future husband, aka the haunted house (a good excuse to have you hold onto him)

He has to give it to class 2-4, the did a damn good job, it was scary

Long story short you fell on top of him, boobs in face hands-on ass

~heaven~

Mans actually asked you to be his girlfriend right there, groping you and murmuring between your boobs. (he wouldn't have gotten up if the next group wasn’t approaching.)

From then on he’d literally do anything for the ass

He’s a big simp and we all know it.

Like When you wear shorts he has to ‘pull them down’ aka feel you up while pulling the hem of your shorts down ever so slightly.

Or when he gets on a knee right behind you to ‘tie his shoe’, but the school shoes have no laces.

He could be a bit more creative and he wanted to look under your skirt.

When he wants to cut the bull shit he’ll just lift the back of your skirt and rub around for a but, to hell with all the other kids in the hallway.

(did I mention that he puts things on the highest shelves so he can walk up behind you and practically dry hump you.)

Speaking of simp nation

You can't really wear anything without setting him off

Shorts drive him absolutely nuts, it's insane. But it isn't his fault that most of your shorts are spandex that cut off right at the beginning of your thighs, it's like a homemade booty lifter. He just can’t help but wanting to cop a feel.

Or the color red in general. It is ridiculous, the guy rips everything when he tries to take it off too. So that stunning red cocktail dress with the lace-up sides was not unwearable, and you only had it on for like 2 hours. And that was only because it was a friend's 18th birthday party you were both invited to.

(thanks to kuroo not letting you out of his arms you both were late and left early.)

((in his defense you looked like a full course meal and it was giving him severe blue balls, and he’s only seen you for a few minutes))

Halloween, you know. the one night you could dress up as anything. any you decide to go as a cat-girl in a maid costume. And you expected him to just take that sitting down? Hell no. the red thigh highs AND the corset middle? You're lucky it lasted as long as it did.

That my dear was bravery. His color. A cat. And a short skirt. With thigh highs!

And so, he did what he did all those other times, dragged you to sit on his lap, and opening your thighs, and like a good girl you’ll let him

If you could already tell, he gives no shits to whos watching, let ‘em see (they really never do but you get the point)

He’s also a prime thigh groper, especially when he wants to keep your legs open, he also loves thigh hic

Terushima Yuji

Another shower-offer

You were already he's so why can't he let everyone know?

Speaking of you being his, he doesn't tell people how you guys don’t together, with good reason considering you practically beat him up

Not really but that’s what he calls it, basically he tried to get with one of your friends at a party.

She just happens to not be interested in men and has a wonderful girlfriend, so she was uncomfortable but couldn't tell him to leave her alone

So you took fate into your own hands, literally, you stole Fate from class 3-2’s drink and poured it on him before slapping him and telling him about how he was a pig.

And he fell in love, you looked like an angel, a really hot angel, it didn't help you were in a white dress either

And from then on he literally once or twice, got on his knees for you, asking to give him a chance.

Honestly, it got annoying, so you just agreed to make it go away. It did, but you also gained a perv of a boyfriend who has an insatiable love for your lower half

He’s a simple creature, do take caution of his fragile being

So that means all those times you bend over in front of him he was slowly cracking and trying to figure out where the nearest storage closet is.

He thought he was having heart palpitations when he saw you in the damn dress again, apparently, he didn't see all of it. Specifically the v-neck top, and the fact it only went to the end of your ass. Needless to say, he made sure to walk behind you on every staircase that you went on

Another set off is yoga legging, like the lululemon ones, that people wear all the time. They fit you great, really really great. They were supposed to work out in them???? Why were they so skin-tight????? And he also figured out that you wore things because of them. Instant nut.

How you ask, simple.

One time he saw your underwear line through the pants and he pointed them out, they did make it seem like your ass was super soft so he saw his chance and took it.

So the next time you wore them and he didn't see the lines he was like ??????

And thus began the “Yuji hunt for lineless underwear” and he found the thongs

And you received the fucking of your life soon after.

Oh! And there’s any time you go to the beach. Literally every time.

No cap.

The first time was when you wore a red one-piece and he practically went feral. It wasn't really a one-piece if it was see-through and had the lowest neckline on the planet.

Everyone was looking at you.

He practically fucked you on the beach but held off until you got back to the hotel room.

He’s way more forward when he wants to fuck, if you could imagine. He’ll just walk up to you and tell you he wants to get some, like right now.

If you can even ignore him, he’ll throw an arm around your waist and grope around your legs, all the way to the apex.

It is also not below him to try and get you off while still wearing underwear that he will be taking after.

(i didn't say anything about his stash off orgasm ruined underwear? My bad.)

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Going beyond the fact he even has a girlfriend, y’know considering, but the fact that no one knew who you were until you showed up at nationals to cheer him on

(atsumu was even starting to think that you didn't exist and that poor kiyoomi just imagined you up, so can imagine his shock when you ran up to said boy after they won)

The whole dating thing wasn't the shocking part; it was the fact that you looked like you walked off of the Milan runway.

And you were wearing leggings and sakusa's jacket, all of a sudden everyone was interested in how that happened

It was a kind of a boring story, someone had spilled coffee in a shop that you both happen to be in

And he watched you offer the man the same disinfectant wipes that he uses!

And in the most sakusa way possible he followed you out of the shop and tried to talk to you.

An exchange of numbers and many awkward conversations (and boners) later, you were a couple.

Back to that hug, like the many others, he's let you have, it’s all just to feel how soft you were

But poor touch -starved sakusa doesn't know what to do with any of these pent up feelings.

And he has a loooooooot of them.

Multiple occasions have shaped the poor germ-boy into the horny-tornado he has become

so he’s not really into what you’re wearing, it’s more about what you’re doing

like when you wore the mask he bought you to one of his games, and you wore one of his alternate uniforms, but the kicker was how you stayed away from everyone and didn’t let a single person near you (or his shirt)

or when you helped him clean his dorm when he was doing his weekly deep clean

or when the two of you washed the dishes while trying to do one of those “try not to sing” challenges

(is it normal to get a boner when your girlfriend helps you clean? no?)

but, as much as he tries to remain emotionless on the subject, there are multiple exceptions to the “it’s not what she wears” whole thing

Like that violet puffy skirt, you wore to a study fate, the one with the white sweater? That one, the same one that he could see your panties, from anywhere he sat. and Every time you got up you would have to smooth it down to make the creases go down, but it was only ever really giving him a good idea about the shape of your ass.

(if he sees you in that skirt again he’s just going to fuck you in it)

The lesser-known horny-inducer, since he made you take it off within the first five minutes, was a dress! What kind of dress? A neon yellow see-through mesh dress. The bottom wasn’t what got him though, it was the fact that your white bra was clearly seen under the mesh top. Or maybe it was the way the skirt made your waist look super small, and how your hips looked so round and squeezable.

Yeah, no one else could experience you in that.

Not to sound like this, but sakusa is still averse to touch

BUT BUT BUT

That goes out the window when he wants to dance the devil's tango with you.

Mr. His way or no way shows up,  he does it every so slightly different

If it’s just the two of you, he’ll put a hand on your shoulder and he’ll push you to your knees. And he’ll pet your head and tell you what’s about to happen and advise you to listen like a good girl.

But in the instance you are in the presence of others, he’ll stand behind you and bring you super close to him, ass to dick. (maybe he’ll grind into you a bit, just to convince you to follow him) and he’ll throw a few words in about how much of a bitch in heat you are for getting turned on in front of all of these people.

It’s best to just do what he wants before he makes you cum in your underwear.

Daichi Sawamura

oh my

you guys are the power thigh couple

powerful and defined mixed with soft and pillowy

In Fact, that’s literally how the two of you met, thanks to Tanaka and Nishinoya of course.

(let’s just pretend karasuno has a cheer squad, and you just happened to be the captain of said team)

So basically you were doing a favor for the student council, and you were supposed to ask how many third years, managers included, were on each team and each club in the school

Easy! Turns out not so much. You were still in your cheer practice uniform, which was the shortest spandex ever made, and a Karasuno school t-shirt that was ever so slightly too tight.

Anyway, you make it to the gym and open the door, and the little one, Yachi, saw you and literally screamed. (she was right by the door), and that alerted everyone else in the gym, which led to the bald boy and his short companion pushing you further into the gym.

But in the better sense, it did gain the attention of the captain! Just the exact moment he was in front of you someone pushed; your back and within a second, in some miracle like way, you both ended up on the floor and he ended up planked on top of you with a leg between your spread thighs.

Almost kissing nonetheless.

Then, like the gentleman he was, he got off and asked you if you alright and kneeled down and let you use his shoulder to try and stand back up.

You did get up, for a split second, Daichi still kneeling letting you use him as a step stool when a certain red-head was flung right into you and you went toppling forward.

Onto Daichi.

Onto Daichi's face.

Your thighs around his head.

His hands-on your ass.

Hand in his hair.  

He could sit there forever, you were frozen, everyone else was frozen.

You eventually climbed off and asked how many third years there were. But he just sat there, his hands hadn’t moved either, luckily Suga answered and you were on your way.

And Daichi still didn’t move, after that incident, you had begun to see him everywhere, and eventually, he just cut the shit and asked you out.

Daddy Daichi likes seeing you in literally anything from sweatshirts to lingerie.

His favorite was the brown buttoned pencil skirt and the white blouse, that you wore to a date. You were kind of overdressed for the ramen shop and after a walk, but he didn't even care. He was so thrown off by how turned on he was he couldn't speak in full sentences.

An example:

“Yeah, the food here is- boob, I-I mean great, not boob, great, yes, great.”

The second.

.

.

.

.

.

Was a bathrobe.

Can you see where I'm going with that? Simply you look hot.

His favorite part of the night was ripping it off of you.

And like the first time you met, he had his head in your thighs <3

Atsumu Miya

You met poor atsumu at a party.

He tried to shoot his shot, y’know he sees a cute lady he’s just gotta try and show you what you could be getting

he had it all planned, he was going to walk up behind you and run his hands over your delicious curves and ask you if you were in need of any help

he doesn’t take into account that a having a random guy just start groping you and pressing himself behind a girl was panic-inducing

so when he dropped your waist, you freaked out and may or may not have punched him in the dick

while he was in a. world of pain you age to figure out what the hell had just happened to you

then you noticed him on the floor, and when he noticed you looking at him he put this forced cocky smirk on and gave you a “how you doing”

You took pity on the poor creature and helped him up and got him some ice, then conversed with him for the majority of the rest of the night.

And he just hasn't left you alone since

(and, you learned this far later, that he went so far to tell Sakusa and Kageyama all about you and how amazing you are, and has even sent them- more than one- picture

But in other news, he’s very horny

So really all that means is he always has his hands on you

Like during practice breaks when you're allowed to come down and talk to him for a bit, give him some things, but it normally just consists of him sitting on the bench and you standing in front of him.

While his hands rest on your hips and his face is shoved into the valley between your breasts, and he just sits and listens to you as you brush a hand through his hair.

Or sometimes, if he had been having a rough time, he’ll just have his hands under your skirt and he’ll feel around for a bit while grumbling about how people cant hit his sets

But for being the possessive bastard he is, he sure likes letting you wear all those outfits

Like the booty shorts and tank top, you wore to bring them food during the summer training camp. That same camp that the two of you disappeared at and he came back looking like he had won the lottery.

Or the cute little red dress you wore to your anniversary date? The one that made him have a hard-on the entire time you were at dinner. He knows the waiter remembers, he also bets the waiter remembers seeing him fucking you in the car when his shift was over.

And that time you wore his jersey to bed and sent him a picture of it. It was such a good picture that he made it his lock screen for everyone to see.

He just likes looking at you tbh.

Aone Takanobu

you guys didn’t meet in some weird perverted way, it was actually really cute!

Not to sound creepy but he knew that you were in the garden club because you sat right in front of him in class

And since he didn't talk to anyone else in that class he was just content with listening, and so there he was

Standing outside of the garden club door holding his withering basil plant. Lost.

Lucky for him you were walking down the hallway and greeted him, looking all pretty and cute

You did help him realize that he was overwatering the basil and within a few weeks, it was back to life!

From that first time on, he came to the club room with you twice a week and walked home with you, just listening to all the random plant facts that you had harbored in your mind.

Eventually, with the help of the team, he asked you out, and you hugged him and said yes, and that was the beginning of the “oh god, y/n is way softer than I thought”

So he really just tries to be near you or be touching you at all times  

(i am also a firm believer that he likes to slow dance to classical music in your living room)

Like during lunch periods when you sit next to him and the second you finish eating hell push you to lean against him

And he’ll rub small circles on your hips and give you small innocent gropes

Or how he hugs your waist when you're doing literally anything, and he puts his head on top of your head while swaying

I can also tell you that Aone is a good singer

So he hums to you (I'm uwuing over my own headcanon lol)

He also really likes just running his hands along your body, so he likes when you wear the one-piece dresses so he has smooth sailing down your body

As a man of little words, he clearly has a more physical approach to getting you on the horny train

What I am trying to get at is that more often than not he literally just picks you up and carries you away.

Of course, that leaves you to come back to whatever you were doing.

That is after the cuddles and after sex ‘conversations’ about the dumbest things

Basically, he likes to hear you talk and he really likes being near.

Osamu Miya

He knew who you were

With a brother like atsumu, who never shuts up about you, it's hard not to

(Osamu is pretty sure atsumu had a picture of you next to his pillow. ew)

Anyway, the two of you just happened to share the same lunch block, and it also just happens to be the only period block that he was alone

No teammates and no especially close that he could hang out with

That meant he could either study or eat

Had he chose to eat, only to be met with the fact that atsumu had drained both of their lunch accounts for his flavor of the week

Poor baby stood there for a while just processing what was the worst news of his life

When you, a true angel among the evil, said that you would graciously pay for his food so that he didn't outlook so sad anymore

If he wasn’t holding an armful of onigiri he would have fallen on his knees and begged to whatever god was out there to let him keep you

But he settled for thanking you and spending the entire period with you, he even offered to share (for the first time in his life)

You complimented him on his flavor choice and he decided to keep you

He made sure to share his recipes with you and you tried to do the same

And somehow that evolved into you guys going on dates, much to atsumu’s distaste, and you guys were totally hitting it off

Osamu was your official biggest fan, he loved everything you do

But that means he wants to stay your biggest fan, and he knows that you’re pretty well known for boys thinking not so innocent things about you

Again being brothers with atsumu gave him this little sadistic streak

He lets you wear all of the revealing outfits and the bikinis, all for everyone to see

Everyone to see what belongs to him

Like at suna’s party he let you wear a black mini-skirt and a white off the shoulder long sleeved flowy shirt.

You looked good, and all the guys staring at you proved that point tenfold. Three guys had come up to you and tried to get you to go upstairs with them. And it was almost immediately shut down when they noticed the act you were sitting on your boyfriend.

Speaking of, he almost always has you in his lap.

Aww, cute! Not, he like grinding you down on him, that's also why he likes having you wear skirts, easy access to your ass, also a nice way to ensure that he could get more than a few gropes in when he wants

No, it's definitely the way he made you wear thigh highs to school one day and the shortest skirt you owned (like a school skirt) and walked behind you the entire day.

And he just reached behind you and lifted your skirt for the whole hallway to see, but mostly for him

He waists no time when he wants to fuck, he’ll just walk up to and open your legs while making out with either you or your neck.

And yes he has done that in front of atsumu

Who was warned to stay out of their room for a while.

Not to mention all those times he convince you to go to school with no underwear on just for the fun of it

(I didn't tell you this but those off the shoulder mini dresses drive him wild. On graduation day he pulled into a closet and had his way with you. I mean he did say that if you wore that dress he was going to do it, buuuuuut y’know….. yolo)

Kyotani Kentaro

We all know he’s a fighter, which means he gets hurt a lot, which in turn makes him a frequent face in the nurse's office

And who happens to be the nurse's niece? You of course!

And right after school, when your aunt takes her break and leaves you to take care of the office alone

Right after school is also when Kyotani always comes in.

(it’s not like he knew that you would be there alone, and that meant that you had to deal with him and heal him up. And it also is not like he started the fight so he could come here and see you. No not that)

Who am I kidding it was like that.

It was totally like that.

Your hands were just so soft when they put the bandages on and you have to bend down to get the wrapping.

He had a crush, that's what iwaizumi said, and after googling what the symptoms of a crush were he was sure

So with the help of the third years, aka Oikawa just having Iwaizumi repeat what he wanted to say, they had a plan

And the next time he was in the office he asked if you wanted to see a movie with him, it was so cute and he looked so shy

It would have been perfect if after five seconds he tried to take it back, you still went on the date with him though

He was happy.

Angry boy likes hugs

And yes he does, no objections

So when he’s upset he’ll make these grabby hands at you and have you come over and stand with him

He shoves his chin on your shoulder and his hands squeezing your waist and you’ll rock back and forth until he calms down.

He’s also very aware of what you wear

Like how your skirt perfectly frames your legs. How the socks you wear make your legs look 10x longer, and make you look like you’re walking like a model.

Or the dark blue leggings you wore with his alternate jersey and you were cheering for him!

But nothing and I mean NOTHING gets him better than when you wear spandex shorts and one of his shirts. He goes feral every time.

This man is the CEO of picking you up and placing you on his lap, straddle style, and just going ham on you

Not to mention that sometimes when he’s really tired he’ll have you just sitting on his lap while he plays with your thighs

(he also likes playing with your waist and stomach, but he doesn't realize that he’s talking out loud so you can hear all of the “so soft”’s he lets out.

Kuguri

You were one of Mika's close friends so you were always just kind of around

It was a little get together that Daishou threw that really made you two close

It was a weird drinking game of sorts, and it had these teams, and you were out as a pair!

Somehow throughout the game, you guys got side-tracked and just ended up talking to each other the rest of the night

Eventually, you were convinced to go on a double date and the rest was history

He didn't even pay attention to what you wore that much until he heard a few rando kids in the locker room talking about it.

And that’s when he started thinking about just who he was dating

He first realized how round your ass was. Is it normal to look that good in leggings? No one else has ever looked that good to him. With that came his obsession with just touching your butt. He just grabs it or he’ll stop you from walking and palm it. Or he’ll rub circles into it.

(it's cute how intrigued he is by your butt)

Then came his obsession with your thighs. Mostly the way that they spread out when you sit. He didn't even understand why they were just so mesmerizing. They were so squishy too. He likes how they look in his hands-

Lastly was the waist thing. You aren't even sure what it is. He just likes putting his hands on your waist. Like a prom picture. Sometimes he’ll squeeze or run his hands along your sides. But he’s mostly stationary.

He also has this habit of just opening your legs and laying on your stomach.

He is just so into how soft you are.

[oneeyekitten80]

I’m thinking about Robby Keene so headcanons!

Robby doesn’t use labels for literally anything gender or sexuality whatever happens happens it’s about feeling it

“GENDER IS FAKE! SEXUALITY IS A SPECTRUM!”

Robby was a couple of months old when Johnny first saw him. Shannon was pissed for a while that johnny missed the birth so she didnt want to see him for a while after

Robby was really into Disney princesses when she was younger his favorite was Cinderella that was Shannon’s favorite princess when she was little too so she watched the movie a lot. Shannon got them a Cinderella dress for her 5th birthday. She saved up for months he was thrilled! Didn’t take it off for weeks. Still knows all the songs!

Robby has curly blond hair as a baby the curls loosened until it was straight by the time he was 7 but I think stayed blond like Johnny until she was 9 or 10

Robby wears feminine more now then when he was younger sam likes to pick out skirts for them to wear Johnny’s not a fan but he’s trying to learn so he stays quiet

“SAM: you don’t have to understand you just have to accept and be open to learning mr. Lawrence. It makes they happy.”

Robby didn’t see Johnny from the ages 3-5, 7-9 and the entire year when he was 13

The more Robby gets to know Miguel the more of a crush he gets.

“Tory: ha ha no that's great!

Robby: shut uppp

Tory: so you have a thing for like both the sunshine prince and little ruff princess huh

Robby: don't you too?😑🤨

Tory:...jesus 😒”

He and Amanda are close she’ll take them shopping

Loves Tony hawk

Him and moon are good friends bc I like this idea and I think it's fun

Sam gets them to paint her nails he's better at it bc she used to do it for Shannon

Like Robby and johnny relationship Shannon and Robbys are rocky. He will never talk bad about her in front of ppl but after living with the Larussos she gets an ache when thinking about the mother Shannon should have been. But really Shannon's is better bc she at least TRIES johnny does a bit more now but Shannon always has and Robby misses her

Tory and Robby get long bc they both love rocky horror. For Halloween tory dressed up like rocky (short gold shorts and sports bra showing off her muscles. Sam choked on her drink when she saw her) and Robby were Dr. Frank n Ferner( corset make-up heels the works. They had so much fun)

[dresshistorynerd]

So I saw this illustration recently floating around here and it’s so riddled with bullshit I decided to go through it with meticulous detail. Also it’s whole point is bullshit, but we’ll circle back to it. I have to note I’m not dress historian and don’t know all the nuances related to history of undergarments, and wouldn’t have even room for that in this post. And the illustration is completely devoid of them anyway.

So strap in and jump into the rabbit hole with me! Let’s start with the accuracy of the figures illustrating the undergarments. I don’t know why the 18th century stays (corsets come later) look like that? They are so wrong in so many ways. This is what 18th century stays looked like.

They did not flatten the bust at all. On the contrary, they pushed the bust up. It makes the stomach flat, but bust very much not. The boning was made from whale bone, reeds or slim wood bents most often, which are all very bendable and soft materials. Which means it was firm but not hard or restrictive. They mostly just smoothed the torso and supported bust. Also none of these illustrations have shift or chemise under their corset/stays, which was extremely important part of the undergarment (they protected the skin from corset/stays and it from oils of skin).

Now I’m questioning weather the makers of this info graph have seen Regency dresses. Firstly they claim that the ideal figure was “natural waist” when you can see that the waist can’t even be seen under the dress. There’s literally no waist. I would rather say the ideal figure was long tube body and boobs (emphasis on boobs). They also say the “corset” (still stays) stops bellow the bust line, but if you have seen a Regency dress, you know the bust is basically on the chin. (There were some stays that actually stopped under breasts, but the ones with cups where much more common as they were better at getting the fashionable silhouette.)

You don’t achieve this look without some heavy lifting done by the undergarments.

Here’s what they looked like. (Picture is from Abigail Polston’s blog.) They were basically push up bras. They didn’t have boning at all or sometimes a couple bones, but were usually made at least partly of stiffened fabrics. Between the breasts there’s a wooden slab that keeps the boobs separate and the stays from crinkling. They only smoothed out the rest of the torso and their only real purpose was support the bust and lift the hell out of it.

The next figure has so so many things wrong about it. In 1830s the stays were basically same as Regency stays. In 1840s the stays started to have a little more of the Victorian hourglass shape, but their construction was still similar. Though at the same time corsets started to live along side stays, till in the 1850s they took over the undergarment business. Here’s an example of 1890s corset.

Victorian corset is result of very complicated engineering. The shape is achieved with very ingenious patterning and strategically placed bones. Maximal shape with minimal boning. When you go back to look at the 18th century stays, which are covered in bones and then check out bow little there’s bones in the Victorian corset. The shape subtly changed thorough the rest of the century, but the basic construction and hourglass figure stayed the same.

Now the description says tight lacing became popular and it’s not entirely wrong. Tight lacing became a thing. In the previous centuries it wasn’t really even possible in same sense, because the materials used were too soft. Well some rich fashionable women still did it in 18th century (with regency stays it just wasn’t possible), but because of the materials, they couldn’t restrict bodily functions like breathing (looking at you PotC). Victorian corsets however usually had couple of iron bones, the rest being the soft whale bone, giving them more ability to shape the body. Tight lacing however was not common. Some rich, young and fashionable ladies would do that, but it was seen broadly negatively at the time. People talked about the health consequences and perhaps more than that, saw it as very vain. Tight lacing every day for a long time had negative health consequences, but vast majority of women didn’t do that and they were nothing nearly as dramatic ass people claim. Corset’s magic wasn’t it’s ability to reduce waist, but rather accentuate bust and hips. It was all about the illusion. Padding was added too on top of the corset. All women used corsets and it didn’t restrict them from doing all kinds of stuff, like working in a factory, or climbing a mountain.

I don’t really have anything to complain about the 1900s, 1910s and 1920s. They have at least the right shapes and don’t have weird claims. Now, I’m not very knowledgeable in any decade after 1920s, but I know at least that bullet bra were already a thing in the 40s? You can see it in 40s dress silhouettes too.

After all this wildly inaccurate info, the whole point of the info graph is that lingerie is going backwards and apparently it’s a bad thing. It gives the impression that undergarments were bad in the ye olden times, then they got good and apparently they are bad again. I think the funniest part is when it says in the 80s bit that “lingerie no longer a way to control the body but to empower women”. Empower how? How were 80s bras more empowering that previous or following bras? Also it says that the ideal figure was “any”. Now, I’m not that familiar with 80s, but if you look at the fashion then, you definitely notice a common silhouette: broad shoulders and natural waist.

After that apparently shaping bras are used to make the bust look bigger, which is bad I guess. Worse than padding on shoulders for some reason?

It is not outright said that the undergarments of earlier periods were used to control women’s bodies, but it’s implied. That’s a really common misconception, but not really true. In the 17th century women didn’t wear stays, but the bodice was heavily structured and boned. When mantua (loose robe draped on body, think of robe á la francaise) entered the western fashion (around 1680s), women jumped on it. Stays became very quickly very popular, to give the fashionable silhouette even without the rigid bodice. Stays and mantua combo was more comfortable and more adjustable to changes in body so it took completely over the fashion during the 18th century. And when corsets became a thing in the Victorian era, most corset makers were women. Women invented a lot of the engineering that went into patterning corsets.

Corsets and stays were not some torture devices. They were flexible, constructed with the right measurements and their purpose wasn’t to reduce the measurements of the body, but rather create optical illusions and support the bust and the back. Many people who have used recreations of historical corsets say they are in many ways more comfortable than modern bras, which shift all the weight of the bust on shoulders. Corsets and stays distributed it on hips instead. Perhaps the biggest actual health concern with a regular use of corset especially (excluding tight lacing and stays didn’t to my knowledge have this problem at least to the same extend) is it supporting the back too much, making the wearer’s deep muscles wither. So in a way, they were too comfortable. Victorians were aware of that, and upper class women, who didn’t do manual labour, were encouraged to excercise to keep their torso in good shape.

Now at some point when making this post, I started to wonder who made this illustration and why. It does seem, if not well researched, at least professional. After googling the label in the bottom left corner, I found this.

The poster is saying it’s terrible when fashion tries to shape your body with clothing and it has the solution for you. Shape your body literally with the serum they are selling. They even say in the 2000s section that big bust is the desired shape, which now looks a lot like marketing. Though it doesn’t seem like they are selling it anymore. Their website is down and I couldn’t find any info on them. The whole product seems a little suspicious. It’s apparently a cream containing estrogen you put on your breasts and it should make your breast grow. Now I’m no expert, but that’s not how estrogen works. Any cream that claims it has some hormones that will change your body or skin? They don’t work. Don’t buy them.

I think this illustrates very well why I disagree so much with the idea that shaping your silhouette with clothing was so terrible and it’s good that we moved away from it. Fashion always has a silhouette, it’s part of the overall look. When the silhouette was still achieved with undergarments, your body shape and size didn’t matter. It wasn’t about the size, it was about proportion and you could create that with corsets/stays, padding and illusions. Nowadays you see sometimes thin celebrities praised for being fashionable when they wear boring clothes which show their stomach, and people have started to question if they actually have style or are they just thin. And often bigger people are ridiculed for wearing the exact same thing. Now it’s the body which is fashionable, not the clothing. And it leads to companies like these trying to push people to change their bodies.

Now, I don’t think any strict fashion or beauty standard is ever good, even if it could be achieved with clothing alone. But I think there’s something to be learned from past, to maybe not reserve fashion and style only for a specific type of body. I don’t think it’s ever helpful or healthy for a body type to be trendy. There’s always all types of bodies and they all deserve to enjoy style, if they wish.

TL;DR: Add tried to sell their boob cream by spewing inaccuracies about historical undergarments.

[drabblingdraco]

✬ Arranged ✬ Part 2 Draco Malfoy x Reader

I received a lot of requests for a part 2 to Arranged. I’ve finally come up with some ideas to continue! Maybe even a part 3 ;)

Part 1 

Warning: SMUT GALORE (unprotected sex, female receiving)

If you are underage please do not read.

Y/N’s POV

It had been only been a week after you arrived at the Malfoy Manor. To your surprise, you’d been enjoying your stay so far. What began as a forcible “vacation” brought upon by the Malfoy’s and your parents turned into an enjoyable experience so far.

After your kiss with Draco, things seemed to be less tense. You both were getting along better than ever. You’d take pleasant walks in the garden (unlike before), have tea on the patio as you watch the sunset, stay up late talking about your desires, likes, and dislikes, the upcoming years at Hogwarts.

He managed to open up to you rather quickly. Even after he confessed his love for you, you expected him to remain reserved. Although he hasn’t kissed you since the night you arrived, he’d steal cheek kisses and subtle touches on your shoulders or hips. It gave you butterflies every time without fail.

Today we were planned to take engagement photos. Although Draco hadn’t proposed, this was still a long awaited arranged marriage. As you thought about the future as a Malfoy, you weren’t sickened by it like you were a week ago.

Mother had sent you a beautiful gown to wear for the shoot. As the photographers were setting up downstairs in the foyer, you were getting your makeup done by Narcissa.

“I don’t mean to pry but..I see you and draco are getting along rather nicely, yes?”

“Yes, I guess we’ve grown a liking for each other..” you looked away shyly.

“Oh don’t be embarassed dear! I’ll tell you a secret to ease your mind.” She cleared her throat “I too was arranged to wed Lucius, I was not his biggest fan at first, but I’ve grown to love him for everything he is.”

“That’s good to know. Thank you, Narcissa.”

“Come, look at my handy work!”

You got up out of your seat and looked in the mirror. She gave you a smoky green and black eye look with basic facial makeup.

“I love it,” you smiled at her.

“Now get that beautiful gown on and come downstairs.” She then left the room.

You let your hair fall out of its clip. You untied your robe as it fell to the ground, revealing nothing but your black strapless bra, black lace thong, knee high panty house and black heels. As you unzipped the bag your dress was in, the door swung open and Draco was on the other end. At first he looked away, but when he looked back at you there was nothing but awe in his eyes.

“I- Uh may I come in? Just need to fix my hair.”

You stood motionless, trying to chose your next words. It’s not like you could say no, it was his room after all, so you didn’t deny him that.

“Oh of course.” Your breath hitched as his eyes lay locked on you and your illuminated figure.

He walked to his vanity, sitting in the chair as he grabbed a comb. You watched from the corner of your eye as he skillfully played with his grey blonde locks. You caught him locking his orbs with yours yet again and looked away, continuing to put on your dress.

You removed it from the bag and unzipped it, giving you enough room to stick your feet in through the top and pull it up. You had to admit it was a beautiful piece of clothing. The top half was corset like, there were small points above both breasts, which lifted them up and made them even more apparent. The corset had small minimal lines going down just above your waist. The bottom was pure smooth silk. And of course, it was all dark, Slytherin green. As you lifted the dress up it was difficult to pull up the zipper behind you. Draco sat at his vanity and sprayed some cologne on him.

“Draco?”

“Yes dea-I mean y/n?”

You silently giggled at his almost comment. “Could you help me?” You darted your eyes towards your zipper. He rose from his seat and walked towards you. As you moved your hair infront of you so it wouldn’t get caught, you felt Draco’s cold finger tips on your spine, sending jolts through your entire body. As he reached the top, he placed both his hands on your shoulders and leaned in to your ear.

“You look..ravishing..my dear.”

You hid your blush from him and turned to face him. “Why thank you..you look delicious as well”

He furrowed his brows. “I MEAN DELIGHTFUL- YES, DELIGHTFUL.” Now you couldn’t help hiding your blush, it was too late.

“That’s you my dear, you..look..delicious.”

You suppressed your thoughts and spoke, “shall we go downstairs then?”

“Let’s.” He held out his arm and you locked yours with it as you headed down the stairs.

You reached the bottom of the stairs and untwined your arms. You could see the foyer set up for the honorable Malfoy portrait, the same backdrop as all the other family photos.

You and Draco listened to the photographer as he told you how to stand. Draco stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in tight. You placed both of your hands on top of his, as you were instructed.

You sensed a presence behind you and it wasn’t just Draco himself..it was below the belt Draco. He shuffled trying to shake his erection but it wasn’t helping. If anything it made it worse.

“You two were lovely to photograph. I’ll get these to you by next week.”

“Thank you sir, have a great rest of your day.” You said with a smile.

You and Draco went upstairs back to his bedroom. As much as you loved that dress, it was choking the life out of you. Before you even realized Draco was right behind you, you peeled your dress off of you, dropping it on the floor. You felt him snake his hands around your waist and his chest against your back. He took a long breath, you could feel it against your cold skin.

“You have no idea what I want to do to you when you look like this.” You completely forgot you only wore your bra, panties, hose and heels. As you felt his hardness grow, you spun around to face him, pressing your hips into him.

“Show me,” you whispered.

He was shocked to get that response, but it didn’t matter because in a matter of seconds he was pushing you on to his bed.

He towered over you kissing your thighs, going up your stomach and finally your neck. He took his sweet time there, leaving long and passionate bites. You moaned as he continued to do what seemed to come so natural to him, turning you on.

He released himself from the nap of your neck and grabbed his wand. He put a silencing spell on his room. Just after feeling his lips on your skin, you knew you were going to need that charm.

You sat up and scooted backwards towards the head of the bed, Draco following you with your lips locked at all times. You started to untangle his clothes. First his tie, blazer and finally his dress shirt. You both worked together to unbutton it. He did the honors of ripping his belt off, the metal clang as it hit the floor.

“You are the most gorgeous woman I’ve seen in my life.” He said breathlessly, reaching his hand down towards your thong. “I hope to have the pleasure of making such a beautiful girl scream my name.”

He pushed your panties aside and began moving in large circles around your clit. Your head naturally rolled backwards in pleasure. His other hand grabbed your chin, moving it to face you.

“I want to watch you untangle under my hands..figuratively and...” he paused, going ever faster, “and literally.” He smashed his lips with yours.

You pushed him away by his shoulders.

“Draco please,” you whined. “I need you now.”

“Say no more, love...one more thing.”

He knelt down and pulled your panties off. Placing his hands on your hips, he yanked your body closer to him, making you yelp in surprise.

“A gift for my fiancé.” He smirked.

His mouth found its way to your pussy, flicking with his tongue over and over. You moaned with excitement. You looked down, watching him tear your nerves apart. His thumbs pressed into your hips, inching you closer to him with each lick he took of you.

“Draco..” you were breathless. “Fuck me, fuck me please!” You screamed.

He purred as he took one last stroke on you. He stood up and removed his pants and boxers.

He brought his tip to your entrance and slid in, like putting a glove on a hand. You gasped, then let out a soft moan. He pumped himself in and out slowly at first.

“Ohhh Princess..” He moaned.

You started going faster as you bucked your hips closer to him. Will each stroke he went in deeper every time. When he reached your g spot you released a high pitch moan, and that made him go crazy. You pulled him down to you and stole his lips. Your legs now around him as he pounded into your pussy.

You flipped him over and now you were the one on top. He didn’t oppose this idea one bit. As you adjusted yourself, you started jumping up and down, each time his dick going in further. One of his hands was gripping your hip, while the other snuck it’s way to your clit. The pleasure sent you into a frenzy. You grabbed his shoulders, sinking every nail into his skin.

“Yeah Princess, take it all in.”

You went as fast as your body could go.

“Oh, oh, I’m gonna cum,” you whined.

“Me too baby. Go ahead, cum all over my dick.”

“Ohh yeah!” You screamed in pleasure as you both climaxed to your body’s content.

You pulled yourself off of him and fell down on the bed next to him. Panting, you both stared at each other with smiles.

He licked his lips and took a deep breath. “Is this a bad time to officially propose?”

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, part 5 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

 Annabeth is making her periodic pilgrimage to the gynecologist when she gets Leo's call. It's very fitting--two uncomfortable and invasive things for the price of one. She answers her phone, ignoring the doctor's chastising frown. Surely she can place her new IUD while Annabeth deals with whatever Leo wants.

 "What are you doing on the 18th?" he asks, about the only type of hello she ever gets from Leo.

 The two of them never really grew out of pretending not to like each other, after they had gotten over their initial dislike. When he and Piper first got to Miss Minerva's, more or less straight out of juvie after Piper's dad made a lot of calls and called in a lot of favors, she and Leo had really hated each other. They used to fight over everything, from Piper's attention to the position of captain of the Mathletes team. And also, over Leo hating a rich white girl on principle, which, in retrospect, is totally fair. But then, by a weird twist of fate, they wound up in Boston together.

 If Annabeth had to choose between hanging out with her creepy, Norse mythology-obsessed uncle and hanging out with Leo, she'd pick Leo every time. They had gone through a lot together, things both big and small.

 "Of August?" she asks.

 "Please be still, Ms. Chase," says her doctor. Annabeth rolls her eyes.

 "Duh."

 Wracking her thoughts she can't think of any prior commitments she might have had. Maybe there's a concert that day, but if she can't remember, it probably wasn't that important anyway. "Not much."

 "Good, because we have plans."

 She frowns. "Piper didn't mention any--"

 "No, you and I have plans. I'll see you in Philly, yeah?"

 Philadelphia? Ew. "Why Philly?"

 "Our Smarter House thing won an award."

 "No shit?"

 "Eta Industries Award. The gala is on the 18th. You're my plus one."

 She sucks in air through her teeth, readjusting her hips as unobtrusively as possible. Eta Industries was… a very big deal. "Isn't that, like, an engineering specific award? Maybe you should accept it by yourself." She'd be better off staying out of the limelight for this one, she thinks, even as some part of her longs once again for recognition.

 Something electric whirs in the background, tinny and buzzing. "I'll see you on the 18th, then," says Leo, not having heard a word she said. "Also, you've been summoned to the castle."

 "Leo--" she jumps as the gyno touches something she really shouldn't have.

 "No arguments, she's expecting you today at two. Adios!" He clicks off.

 "Okay, Ms. Chase," says the doctor, a little too chipper for Annabeth's taste. "You should be all set."

 Annabeth leaves the doctor's office with her brand new IUD, a handful of medical literature which immediately gets tossed in the trash, and a sinking feeling in her gut as she gets on a train to Brooklyn, headed to Piper's place for another annoying and unnecessary fashion show. It's not that she doesn't enjoy being Piper's model--it's a position she's held since their time at Miss Minerva's, and it's never really a hardship to be told how gorgeous she is--but Piper has a way of just... getting information out of her that she doesn’t always want to share.

 Stopping off early, Annabeth gives herself a moment to walk down the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, to settle her nerves and indulge herself a bit. That skyline gets her every time.

 Turning down Pierrepont Street, she is once again struck by just how quiet the city can be. Manhattan is loud, rude, in-your-face, almost an entirely different world from the stately, deafeningly silent Brooklyn. For Annabeth, who is incapable of falling asleep without city horns blaring, it wigs her out a little.

 She barely has time to ring the doorbell on Piper's dad's place before the girl herself wrenches it open, grabbing Annabeth's hand and yanking her inside. "You're late!" she trills, suffering what Annabeth can only assume is the onset of a caffeine overdose.

 "I thought I had until two."

 "That was before I had the best idea."

 The brownstone is a mess, as per usual, reams of fabric tossed over every available surface, enough dressforms strewn about to make it look like Piper is hosting a party exclusively populated by headless zombies, adorned with a warehouse's worth of half-finished dresses and jackets. Based on the loud fabrics and structured angles, it looks like Piper is in the middle of a Klimt-ian phase of inspiration. Annabeth eyes a bright gold gown with a huge, extended collar, embroidered with silver eyes, the raw edges trailing the floor. "Please tell me this isn't your idea."

 "First of all," Piper releases her arm as they enter her kitchen-turned-photo studio, gingerly stepping over a box of assorted beads, "even though it would look amazing on you, that dress is for an actual paying client. Second of all--" she snatches up a dressform from its position behind the camera, setting it down in front of her with a flourish. "This is my idea."

 Annabeth was right--Piper is definitely on a Klimt-ian kick.

 Pulled straight from her art history classes, the dress looks like a two dimensional painting come to life, a stunning skirt like a column of liquid silver descending onto the black mat, pleats like fluted columns precisely draped over the dressform's hips… and not much else. Annabeth points. “Is that it?”

 Piper makes a face. "I have a bodice, promise. Now go take that shit off."

 Annabeth looks down at her repurposed The Police shirt, fished out of a thrift store bin some months ago, shirt collar cut and sides resewn to bring the waistline in. "I like this shirt."

 "Oh, I like the shirt plenty," she agrees. "But you could stand to wear a nicer pair of jeans."

 She does have a point there--her jeans are clinging to life at this point, the knees and hems all but obliterated, strings of fabric valiantly attempting to hold their original shape. "Fine. Be right back."

 When she emerges from the bathroom a minute later in just her bra and panties, Piper has laid out another bolt of fabric in that same color, silver with a blue shift beneath the studio lights. Piper, bent over with a strip of measuring tape, looks up at her, then squints. "So who is he?"

 Annabeth starts. "Excuse me?"

 "The guy you've been seeing."

 How... the fuck does Piper always know these things? "I don't know what you're talking about."

 She flicks her eyes down to Annabeth's thigh, Annabeth following her gaze to the remnants of the bruise that Percy had left there with his mouth two days ago. Dammit.

 Piper tsks, a smile distorting the sound. "Naughty, naughty, Annabeth."

 "How do you know it wasn't from a girl?" she asks, petulant.

 "Because if it had been a girl, you wouldn't be nearly so defensive."

 Shit. "We've been friends way too long," Annabeth grumbles.

 "That we have," says Piper. "And out of respect for our friendship, I will refrain from grilling you about him until you are more comfortable sharing."

 "So, for a few hours?"

 She shrugs. "More or less."

 "I suppose you want me to thank you for holding back."

 "Don't thank me yet," she grins, wide and toothy. "I've been cooped up here working on my collection for three days, and I am dying to talk to someone."

 Annabeth sighs, but obediently raises her arms, making room as Piper crouches down to pin the skirt on her. "Okay, you got me. I'm seeing this guy."

 "Seeing or seeing-seeing?"

 "Just seeing," she clarifies. "It's pretty casual."

 "Can't be that casual if you're telling me about it," Piper points out.

 Fuck. This is why she never tells Piper about her hookups. "You're the one who asked."

 "Another business bro, I assume?"

 "He's--" Piper swats at her as she automatically sucks her stomach in, their long held code for "stay put." "He's a dancer."

 She hums, arranging pleats over Annabeth's knees. "Like on Broadway?"

 "Ballet."

 Piper glances up at her, eyes sparkling. “Un danseur! Ooh la la,” she trills. “What’s his name?”

 “I can just leave,” Annabeth says, distinctly not thinking about how Percy will occasionally slip into French whenever he stubs his toe.

 “Okay, okay, no more boy talk.” Piper moves in front of her, adjusting the fabric about her waist. “Tell me about the thing you just won with Leo.”

 “I had honestly forgotten about it,” she says, lying a little, pulling her arms forward. “You remember his master’s thesis?”

 “The shmart kishen thing, right?” Piper asks around the tape measure in her mouth.

 Leo, the prodigal boy that he is, had spent his last year of school dedicated to a singular problem faced by people around the world: the sudden, out of control kitchen fire. Using very complicated electronics and engineering that Annabeth does not understand, he devised a handful of mechanisms to sense, contain, and ultimately douse random fires as soon as they popped up. Annabeth came on as his design partner after he had graduated and had gotten some funding to conceptualize an entire safe house.

 “Well, it just won an Eta Industries award.”

 Her head snaps up, hands freezing in their tracks. “Holy shit.”

 “Yeah.”

 “Congrats.”

 “Thanks,” she shrugs as Piper gets up to grab some more fabric. “I mean, it was mostly Leo’s doing. I just made sure he didn’t leave any stray pipes around.”

 Holding out her arms again, Piper slides them through the sleeves of a heavy, corset-like piece, structured and straight and very forgiving on Annabeth’s lack of curves. “You shouldn’t sell yourself short,” she says. “I’m sure your skills as a guinea pig were very valuable.”

 “Are you ever going to let that go?” Annabeth asks, she who has literally burnt pasta while it was submerged in water.

 “You’re just lucky my dad was out of town that weekend. Have you decided what you’re going to wear to the awards ceremony?”

 She shoots her friend a strange look. “I thought I was wearing this?” she gestures to the unfinished silver gown currently making her feel like an absolute goddess.

 Piper makes a face. “What do I look like, the fucking Flash? This isn’t going to be ready for another thirty hours, at least. I’ve got decals to add, Swarovskis to bead, not to mention all the hand-stitching on the neckline because for whatever reason my machine has decided to hate me this week.”

 “Okay, well,” says Annabeth, appropriately cowed, “then I guess I’ll wear the black one you gave me.”

 “2019 fall/winter?”

 Annabeth nods.

 “Styling?”

 “Luke gave me this really nice scarf for my birthday.”

 Throwing her head back, she groans.

 “What? What’s wrong?”

 “You’re so boring,” she moans, pulling Annabeth’s hair out of the way. “Let me guess, you’re going to pair it with the black shrug and opaque nude tights.”

 “Well… yeah, I was.”

 “Exactly! Boring.” Coming back around, she pushes Annabeth lightly into the light, before taking her place behind the camera. “You could do so much with that dress and you choose to make it boring. Why not some fishnets? Or a big statement necklace?”

 Annabeth waits after a few shutter clicks to answer. “Because I doubt that the people at Eta Industries are going to be big fans of my tattoos.”

 “That is a bald-faced lie and you know it,” Piper says. “Your tattoos and piercings are gorgeous and you would look absolutely rocking with them. Knock all the old farts right off their feet. Turn.”

 Obediently, Annabeth rotates, letting Piper snap off as many pictures as she likes. “This isn’t a Vogue event, Pipes,” she says, rolling her eyes where her friend can’t see them. “Punk isn’t exactly accepted practice yet.”

 “Punk was the Met Gala theme almost a decade ago, babe. It has filtered down from Vogue. It's practically cerulean now. Side.”

 Annabeth turns again, keeping her eyes straight. Side-eye would ruin the shot, no matter how much she wants to give it.

 “I will never understand why you both refuse to wear halfway decent jeans and then refuse to go guns out in my dresses that demand it. I can almost guarantee you that Leo will show up in those stupid suspenders with grease on his face. And you’ll have to get him to leave his tool belt in the car.”

 “Then it’s probably for the best that I have a modicum of professionalism, huh?”

 Piper leans out from behind the camera, glaring. “At the very least,” she hedges, “will you let me set you up with some shoes?”

 “I don’t know…”

 “You are not allowed to wear those horrid Manolo pumps you wear everywhere. And your nude Louboutins won’t look right with the black.”

 “What did you have in mind?”

 Piper’s grin is evil, and the way she scampers out of the room means she’s got something she’d been trying to force on Annabeth for a long time.

 Five minutes later, Annabeth is presented with a set of black strappy sandals, its edges detailed in a gold zipper, with safety pin pull to match. She frowns. “Are you sure? They look kind of… hardcore for something like this.”

 “They’re Versace,” Piper says. “I was not lying about punk’s democratization.”

 Well. They are pretty cool.

 “It’s either this or the McQueen boots. They have studs.”

 Annabeth sighs, holding out her hand. Piper squeals, bouncing a little, wrapping her in a brief, but exuberant hug, kissing her cheek with a loud, wet, smack. “You’re the best!”

 “I haven’t even done anything.”

 “I am saving up favors to cash in. Now,” she releases Annabeth, retreating behind the camera. “If you’ve got some time, can I borrow your head? I’m working on a helmet and all my mannequins are busy.”

 ***

 “Hey,” Percy begins. It is so late at night, the dawn is on the edge of breaking, and they are both exhausted from some particularly good sex. Which is saying something, because all their sex is particularly good. “You doing anything on the 18th?”

 “Yeah,” She says, distractedly, snuggling down into his bed. The fact that she’s also snuggling into him is just a coincidence.

 “Oh.”

 “Why?”

 “Nothing. Was going to invite you to a thing if you weren’t.” She nods her head against his shoulder and falls asleep in his arms, thinking absolutely nothing about it.

 She continues to think nothing of it on the train to Philadelphia on the 18th, half-asleep and listening to Paramore to pass the time, blasting Misery Business on repeat as she changes in her hotel room.

 The Eta Industries event is pretty much exactly what she expected: a lot of old rich white people milling about, sipping champagne and verbally circle jerking each other, the insipid strains of classical music spilling out of the ballroom as Annabeth steps up to claim her name tag. “Name?” asks the young, college-aged girl, skimming her printed guest list over the rim of her glasses.

 “Annabeth Chase.”

 She runs a long fingernail over the assorted collection of name tags, before settling on the correct one, handing it to Annabeth, her star tattoo on the inside of her wrist free and open to anyone who would care to look. “Here you are, Ms. Chase,” she says, smiling. “Have a wonderful night!”

 Automatically, Annabeth goes to pin it on Luke’s scarf, before she remembers that something is already occupying that place--Percy’s Acropolis pin. She had taken to keeping it in her pocket these days, something of a good luck charm, and thought that it might… she doesn’t know, maybe send a subconscious signal to Percy that she’s thinking of him. Even though there is, quite literally, no way he could know, she hopes that maybe he can sense it, and that maybe he’s thinking about her, too.

 Ugh. She snatches up a flute of champagne from a wandering waiter, eager to get that thought out of her head, making a beeline straight for the refreshments table. It’s there that Leo finds her, not five minutes later, munching on some chocolate covered strawberries.

 “And here I thought you might ditch me entirely,” he says, even as he bumps her shoulder. True to form, he is absolutely, 100% dressed in those stupid suspenders, a smudge of grease behind his ear.

 “You’ve got a…” Annabeth trails off, motioning behind her own ear.

 “Huh? Oh!” He snatches up a napkin, rubbing discreetly. “Thanks.”

 She squints. Something about him is distinctly different. “Are you taller?”

 Kicking out a foot, he wiggles it, triumphant. “Platform shoes.”

 “Seriously?”

 “Hey, if they're good enough for Robert Downey Jr., then they’re good enough for me. After all, I am Ir--”

 She groans, good-natured, taking another gulp of champagne. “If you quote Marvel in your speech, I’m leaving.”

 “Fine by me, Your Highness, they’ll give me the award either way.”

 “Excuse me, Mr. Valdez?” The same college girl from before sidles up to them, clipboard clutched in her hand. “They’re about to start.”

 He claps his hands, rubbing them together. “Excellent. You coming?”

 “I…” She casts her gaze to the makeshift stage they’ve constructed, eyeing the bright “Eta Industries” placard, the sharp angles shiny and alluring, the siren-song of recognition.

 This is a big deal. There are photographers in the audience. In the write-ups and reviews, she would be listed as a co-winner of the award, a co-designer of the world’s safest house, a thought so happy she practically starts flying.

 “I think I should stay out of the limelight for this one, Leo,” she says, politely. “This is your moment. I don’t want to ruin it.”

 He frowns. “You sure?”

 Were it not for the fact that people were watching, Annabeth would have leapt up onto that stage without a second thought, snatching up the trophy like she had just won the Oscar, holding it up like the goddamn Olympic torch. “What, you want a white woman stealing your glory?” she says instead, arching a brow.

 “You get a pass this one time,” he quips, holding out his hand. “Don’t make me regret it.”

 Whatever social grace she has left crumbles. She’s denied it enough--she wants to be up there. “Oh, fine. Since you insist,” she says, following clipboard-girl to the stage.

 There’s a quick burst of feedback, then an elderly gentleman at the podium begins speaking into the mic. “Excuse me--sorry about that. Yes, yes, thank you all for coming tonight to the annual Eta Industries awards presentation ceremony. It is always such a pleasure to come together with our hard-working and generous board members and shareholders to honor the best and brightest upcoming talent in engineering.”

 Internally, she rolls her eyes. Rich people.

 “It is my pleasure, however, to introduce the young man who is the recipient of this year’s Millennium Prize for innovation and safety. One of MIT’s youngest and most decorated graduates, he was a recipient of the Mead Prize for Students, the Friedman Young Engineer Award, and the Collingwood Prize, among several others. His master’s thesis, ‘Towards the Design and Implementation of Autonomous Safety Measures in Commercial Kitchens,’ formed the basis of the project which we recognize tonight, the so-called ‘SmartSafe House,’ reflects the pioneering spirit and outstanding creative vision of not only Eta Industries, but also the field of engineering as a whole. Please join me in congratulating this year’s Millennium Prize recipient, Leo Valdez.”

 From the sidelines, she claps enthusiastically with the rest of the crowd as her friend takes the stage, shakes hands with the Vice President of Eta Industries, and accepts the award, a blue, blocky triangle which almost seems to glow in the light of the ballroom. “Thank you, Mr. Helms. This is--this is a really big honor.”

 She can see him shaking a bit, taking a quick drink from his water glass. Public speaking was never really his strong suit.

 “As--as a lot of you probably know, this project is very near and dear to my heart. Growing up in Houston with my mother, a car mechanic, I was eight years old when her beloved shop went up in flames, like that.” He snaps his fingers, his other hand pressed to the podium where no one can see, joints white with pressure. Annabeth is proud of him--he hasn’t been able to speak this candidly about it in years. She knows firsthand how much his mother’s near-death haunts him still. “Thankfully, we were able to rebuild, and my mother went on to bigger and better things--including a shop with cleaner vents. But I can definitely pinpoint that moment as the day I knew I wanted to make the world a safer place, for my mom, if not for everyone else.”

 She remembers, so clearly, that snowy night in the dorms at Miss Minerva’s. The power had gone out, and Leo had made them an illicit campfire out of their trash bin and Annabeth’s failed English exam. Cold and miserable and with dying phones, they passed the time instead telling scary stories and funny memories, until the conversation had gotten suddenly, intensely real.

 “But I would be remiss,” he goes on, cheerful, “if I didn’t acknowledge my friend and collaborator, without whose work I wouldn’t be here today: Annabeth Chase,” he waves to his side, indicating her. The whole crowd, as one, turns their gazes on her. She straightens up, imperceptibly, hoping she doesn’t look too haughty or anything. “I’ve never been very good with people. My mama says I’m just like my dad that way. Give me a car, or a computer, or pages of multiplication tables, and I’m golden. But people?” He blows out a breath, and the crowd chuckles, naturally. “Now, if it had been left up to me, the SmartSafe House would have been a top of the line, cutting-edge metal box, efficient to a fault, but completely unlivable. Thank God I had Annabeth on my team to remind me what the project was really about: a home that families could feel safe in, so that what happened to me and my mom might never happen to anyone else.” He hoists his award above his head, leaning into the mic. “Ma, este es para ti. Thank you all.”

 Stepping down from the stage, they reenter the crowd, ready to receive adoration. In another life, she might have been embarrassed by such praise. Here and now, however, she takes each handshake and word of congratulations like a starving man in a desert who just came across an oasis, hungry and greedy.

 Hey, it’s her night, too.

 After what feels like a whole-ass sixty minutes of shaking old people's hands and polite nodding, though, she is in desperate need of a break. Escaping the throng of mingling bodies, she darts into a dark corner of the ballroom, leaning against the back of a rounded stone column, just barely out of sight of the party.

 Rubbing her hands over her face, she sighs, just short of a scream. Blowing out all her air, she lets the faint music and fake laughs melt into each other, becoming white noise, a blank canvas, empty of concrete thoughts and feelings.

 Then, her ear picks up a strand of conversation.

 “...announcing tomorrow that the CEO of Pallas Inc. is choosing a successor,” a woman says, the sneer in her voice almost visible. “About time.”

 “I thought she already picked a successor,” says the woman’s conversation partner, a man with the kind of cookie-cutter cadence that she heard every time she took a business major to bed. “Pallas is a family business, isn’t it?”

 “You haven’t heard?” Annabeth can almost picture it, the furtive glance around the room, the woman placing her hand on her partner’s arm, leaning in to share a juicy secret. “Supposedly she was grooming her daughter for the role, before she went in for rehab.”

 “Rehab? Really?”

 “What else could it be?” says the woman. “She’s disappeared off the face of the earth, and her mother refuses to talk about her. Let’s be honest, if she were dead, she would have raised a bigger stink about it.”

 Annabeth closes her eyes, sucking air in through her teeth. That… wasn’t totally untrue.

 But the woman doesn’t stop. “It’s always the same story,” she scoffs. “You throw countless hours of schooling and millions of dollars into girls like her, and what do they do? Turn around and blow it all on drugs and partying. Honestly, she should be grateful her mother is even bothering with her rehab at all. Hasn’t she wasted enough of the family’s money already?”

 Blood roars in her ears, drowning out the fancy party. Sharp points dig into her palm, pinpricks of pain, before she realizes that they’re her own fingernails.

 The lady has got it all wrong. Her mom couldn’t even be bothered with that.

 Luke’s scarf, the shrug, it’s choking her, suffocating and constricting. Percy’s pin feels heavy on her chest.

 Blinders on, she would have sprinted for the exit were it not for the Piper’s stupid Versace heels, reduced instead to a teetering, tottering wreck, like a baby colt running from a predator. The night is hot and humid, heavy with the threat of rain, and Annabeth can barely breathe, dark spots in her eyes, until she ducks into a nearby Target, the frigid blast of air a welcome distraction.

 Almost in a daze, she watches herself pick up a few things--clippers, an electric razor, beef jerky, a blue Gatorade she considers for a moment before putting it back, choosing a lemonade instead--practically throwing them at the poor cashier who begins checking her out, mechanically. He doesn’t spare her a single glance for her odd assortment of items. He doesn’t even look at her at all.

 The walk to her hotel room disappears in the blink of an eye. Blink--she breezes past the check-in counter, slipping into the empty elevator. Blink--she kicks off her heels in her room, nearly hitting the wall mirror, leaving a scuff mark on the white plaster. Blink--she’s down to her underwear and tights in the bathroom, shaving the right side of her curls clean off. She’d gotten them professionally done for the night, perfect spirals held together by expensive products. And now she wants them gone.

 She pauses and breathes too hard, looking at herself in the mirror. Her mother didn’t like that she was blonde. Maybe because of dumb blonde stereotypes, maybe just because it reminded Athena too much of her failed romance with Annabeth’s dad. And that thought stays her hand from getting rid of the rest of them.

 That, and maybe the idea of Percy, of some broke dancer, tangling his fingers in it as they lie together.

 Fuck her mother, and the fucking stories she tells.

 She likes it. She likes her blonde hair and her fresh undercut.

 She can get Thalia to touch this up later, maybe. Now, though, she needs this.

 It doesn’t look perfect. The left side of hair is too long, her gold laurel earrings too fancy for a homegrown haircut like this, her makeup too pristine. Shoving her hand under the running water, she rubs at her eyes, mascara and eyeliner smearing until they’ve reached something much more respectable for the failure that she really is.

 She misses her industrial. And her eyebrow rings. And the tongue piercing. But this will have to do for now.

 Breathing heavily, eyes hot, she doesn’t register her phone blinking, signaling an unread text message.

 It’s from Thalia. surprised you weren’t at kelp heads bday party, it reads. was pretty boring. Kno he missed you  

[mimeparadox]

The New Half-Truths about Corsets

As true as it is that corsets are often misrepresented in audiovisual and written media, and as glad as I am to see people defending them, GOD, am I annoyed by the current discourse.  Not because the defenders are wrong —they’re not, in general terms—but because Twitter, Instagram, and their incentivitization of easily digestible sound bites over nuance haves stripped the conversation from all the complexity inherent in a subject as big as corsets. In seeking to be more accurate, corset defenders have often just muddied the water further, with a brand-new set of half-truths.

Here are my favorite (least favorite) talking points.

“Corsets are literally just bras!”

As a cis dude, I’ve never had reason or occasion to wear bras. I have worn corsets, though, and let me tell you, things like having to take off one’s boots after one has been out in the snow while wearing a corset is work—moreso, I imagine, that if I’d been wearing a bra. Actually putting on boots before a corset? Even harder, enough that “boots before corsets” is a common bit of advice. Corsets aren’t torture, but they do force one to rethink how they interact with the world, in ways different than bras do.

To be less glib though, yes, corsets could and did provide the sort of breast support that is now provided by bras. This doesn’t render the multiple differences irrelevant! For one, breast support is the one thing bras are meant to do: with corsets, it is secondary or even inessential, evidenced by all the corsets that do not provide breast support, such as corsets for men, old-timey corsets for kids, and underbust corsets, which are still definitely corsets.

(Megan Fox in Jonah Hex, wearing a corset that is doing exactly the same thing as a bra. Yes, I know it’s not historically accurate; that is not the point.)

What most miffs me about this argument is that it is exceedingly reductive, and displays simplistic thinking regarding both corsets and bras. Because yes, corsets were like bras…and? What is this argument trying to say, given that bras their own baggage?  Is the argument that corsets aren’t torture because corsets are bras? Plenty of people find bras uncomfortable, and something to be abandoned as soon as it becomes feasible. Corsets were purely practical because corsets are bras? Plenty of bras exist for primarily aesthetic purposes—some even do a fair amount of shaping. In the end, both garments have complicated, multifaceted, and distinct features, histories, and semiotics, and trying to equate them in a single sentence says nothing useful about either of them.

“Stays are not corsets!”

Amusingly, this argument seems somewhat incompatible with the previous one, given that stays have much more in common with corsets than with bras, but here we are.

Yes, 18th- and early 19th-century stays are significantly distinct from the corsets that we see later in the latter century, and if someone wants to don Bridgerton-inspired looks that accurately reflect Regency fashions, they should not look at Victorian corsets to obtain it.  And yes, one can make the case that stays and corsets were entirely different animals.

Here’s the thing, though: historically, that’s not a case that people made. Corsets are we know them weren’t considered to be a completely different thing from stays, but rather a different style of stays—two different breeds of dog, perhaps, but dogs all the same. Once the term corset entered regular parlance, the two terms were usually used interchangeably, as can be seen in multiple 19th century documents, including technical ones where differences between the two, if they existed, would have been noted.  

The Duties of a Lady's Maid: With Directions for Conduct, and Numerous Receipts for the Toilette (1825)

English Patents of Inventions, Specifications, 1865, 3186 - 3265 (1866)

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What’s more, it’s not until very recently that people began treating stays and corsets as altogether different things. Gone with the Wind, the book? The terms corsets and stays are used interchangeably.  The Oxford English dictionary? Describes stays as a sort of corset.  The longest-lasting site dedicated to corsets on the internet calls itself the Long Island Staylace Association, with no indication that doing so represented an inaccuracy on its part.  Sure, Elizabeth Swann should have properly said “You like pain? Try wearing stays”—at least it one wanted to be more accurate (if not good: good writing is partly about making oneself understood). But speaking here, and now, looking backwards? Very few people are trying to be that precise.  

Additionally, it’s worth noting that corsets have had a variety of styles and features throughout history, and the term is by no means exclusive to what we most often see as corsets. The S-shaped corsets from the Edwardian era are very different from Victorian corsets, as are the more girdle-like garments that followed. While not everything is a corset, I’ve yet to see a convincing argument that the term isn’t broad enough to include 18th-century stays.    

Tightlacing, Part 1: “Almost nobody did it”

Statements about tightlacing annoy me more than most, largely because they involve clearer instances of wrongness, but also because they hit closer to home.

Tightlacing has always been an imprecisely defined term: Lucy Williams, one of the best-known contemporary champions of corsetry, talks a little bit about the various ways the term has been used in her post “Waist Training vs Tight Lacing – what’s the difference?” found on her site. Usually, it refers to a quantitative measure—your corset must reduce X amount to be considered tightlacing—although recently, the discourse appears to have adopted a more qualitative definition, applicable to any instance where someone is shown displaying discomfort at being laced into corsets, regardless of how tightly they are (or aren’t) being cinched.

(Left: Moi, wearing a custom corset from The Bad Button Corsetry; Right, Upper: Scene from Bridgerton; Right, Lower: Scene from Enola Holmes)

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Take, for example, the scene that has most recently caused a stir, from Bridgerton, where the character Prudence Featherington is seen grimacing as she is laced into her corset stays corset, while her sisters wince in sympathy and their mother, Portia, insists that she be laced tighter. Others have raised objections to this scene, focusing mainly on the fact that Portia’s mania for a smaller waist is anachronistic and makes little sense given fashions that de-emphasize the waist, but fewer have noted that for all the hemming and hawing that is being done by the characters, Prudence’s figure is ultimately not all that compressed, and seems perfectly in line with everybody else’s. Is what is been done to her tightlacing? A lot of people appear to think so! And yet, that assertion carries some implications. If Prudence is being forced to tightlace here, is everyone else with a comparable silhouette (again, pretty much everyone) also tightlacing?  The answer is kind of important, especially if one also wants to claim that tightlacing was rare.

It’s worth noting that Valerie Steele’s The Corset: A Cultural History, one of the seminal works on corsetry throughout history, doesn’t actually attempt to make a case for the rarity of tightlacing. What it does attempt is to determine the accuracy of claims that women regularly laced down to 18 inches, 16 inches, or even smaller measurements, which is not quite the same thing. When exploring the question by looking at collections of surviving corsets from the era, the book has this to say: "Statistics from the Symington Collection [...] indicate that out of 197 corsets, only one measured 18 inches. Another 11 (five per cent of the collection) were 19 inches. Most were 20 to 26 inches.” While Steele readily admits this is hardly conclusive evidence, she took it as a sign that women with 16-inch waists were nowhere near as common as accounts suggested they were.  Case closed, asked and answered, no one tightlaced, right?  

Well, no.  

Again, it comes down to definitions. Even speaking quantitatively, very few people define tightlacing as “lacing down to nineteen inches or fewer” (certainly no woman in Bridgerton is that tightly laced). The consensus, rather, is that tightlacing is not about the size of the corseted waist, but about the size of the reduction. How much people cinched, however, cannot be determined by looking only at corsets, because doing so requires not only those corsets’ measurements (and even those don’t tell the whole story, given that they don’t necessarily indicate how tightly they were worn) but also the starting measurements of the people wearing them.

In other words, say someone with a 33-inch waist uses corsets to reduce their waist measurement to 25 inches. This, according to most definitions, would be considered tightlacing—a 24% reduction!—and yet the absolute measurements would be nothing to write home about. How is that reflected in Steele’s sample of corsets? Impossible to say. A 25-inch corset could also be worn by someone with a natural 27-inch waist.

What, then, can we say about the frequency of tightlacing? Well, if we’re talking about dramatic reductions of, say, more than four inches (a two-inch reduction, by the way, can look like this—again, more dramatic than what we see in Bridgerton) one can say, with a fair level of confidence, that it was probably not the norm. And yet, “not the norm” is itself a very broad category, and given the numbers involved, “a minority of people” can easily still be “loads and loads of people”, as seen, for example, with COVID-19. Even if two percent of the population who wore corsets tightlaced, that’s still hundreds of thousands of people—hardly “almost no one”, as some argue. And if wearing corsets as seen in Enola Holmes or Bridgerton counts as tightlacing, the number becomes even higher.

Tightlacing, Part 2: “Tightlacing is bad”

Perhaps not coincidentally, another element of the current corset discourse involves taking all the baggage usually assigned to corsetry in general and applying it to tightlacing instead. Corsets are not painful, goes the argument, but tightlacing is. Corsets are not unhealthy, but tightlacing is. People could do everyday things in corsets, they’ll say, but not when tightlaced. Arguments made against corsets in the 19th century were slander made by people who just hated women (another half-truth I have little time for), but are apparently utterly unobjectionable when applied to tightlacing. This, as many modern-day tightlacers will tell you, is bullshit, but it feels like an especially odd argument to make in light of everything else.

As in, what is the point? It feels a lot like saying “I’m not sex-negative, but having sex with more than X partners is icky.” And given the history-focused slant of the current discourse, it’s safe to believe that most people arguing against tightlacing are not people who have attempted it. There is, however, an existing community that will happily tell you, based on personal experience, what tightlacing is actually like.

So from personal experience: tightlacing may not be like wearing a bra, and there are definitely some considerations that you have to take while doing it— getting dressed, sitting down, and eating are all done differently when tightly laced—but this is more logistical than anything, and also applies to other things—running in steel-toed boots is much different from running in sneakers, and the advice when doing the former is often “don’t”. Additionally, the margin for error decreases the more tightly laced one is, but corsets aren’t special in that regard: proper care is much more important when one is flying a commercial jet than when one is flying a one-seater. But yes, you can do physical activity while tightlaced. Not necessarily the sort that you could do in exercise clothes, but then, the fact that suits are not optimized for running doesn’t make suits bad.

Tightlacing, in the end, is not really different from wearing a corset. Some people will like it, some will not, but ultimately, how pleasurable or how unpleasurable it is (it’s very pleasurable, in my book) depends on what you put into it, and that’s something quite a few people—not a majority, but also not “almost nobody”—who are often far more tightly laced than people in movies, would attest to, if people listened.