#Velour uniform

[ewanspence]

57 Years Later, Star Trek Brought Its Most Underrated Uniform Back

The velour is here! Strange New World Costume Designer on some of the fun in season two.

[raitrolling]

=> There are photos on social media of WHO doing WHAT at the 12th Perigee Ball?

[andyoullhearitagain]

Every Starfleet Uniform Ranked By How Annoying The Sleeve Is To Sew, Part 2

Part 1

6. TOS Men's Uniform:

Here we have 1. Quite a severe curve 2. with a zipper in it 3. an invisible zipper at that 4. with pattern matching through the zipper at the collar

5. in velour (slippery). Woof.

7. Disco:

OK we've got two points of pattern matching, but they don't have to be too precise because they've got this round shiny striped piece between them. Of course that piecing means we're basically setting a sleeve in twice, but I will concede that the stretch will be more forgiving than a woven would be. Add in the piecing on the bicep and two different sticky rubber-y fabrics for further difficulty. 

8. TNG Version 2B and Voyager:

All the work of a tailored sleeve with an added inverse corner in an intersection of four seams.

PLUS two points of pattern matching, which is very tricky in an armsyce because you're trying to get the pitch right. You can see in TNG they often have trouble with it and have either a jog in the pattern matching

or too much ease in the wrong place to force the pattern to match.

They seem to have figured it out by Voyager though. I'm also fairly certain they have raglan shoulder pads in them instead of regular ones, which isn't really harder I guess but is a bit odd (no shade, they're incredibly flattering).

9. DS9/ TNG Movies:

All the difficulties of the TNG armscye and now we've added trim, meaning we really have four points of pattern matching instead of two. I could be persuaded that the contrast pieces are applied over the upper sleeve piece instead of pieced, which is easier than what TNG is doing.

10. Enterprise:

I think this is regular raglan sleeve and not some kind of half raglan/half set in sleeve like we see in TNG. Either way it's a bit easier than the TNG sleeve because the trim and yoke are applied on top and top stitched. But we've still got that mitered corner in our bias trim and our four points of pattern matching on the shoulder seam. And then we've also added like four zippers!!!

11. Picard:

What did the stitchers do to this designer? FOUR inverse corners (I guess at least it doesn't intersect a seam this time) PLUS the piecing at the cuff, PLUS all the pattern matching at the armscye, and all in stretch (I think). The only reason it's not the most difficult sleeve is because it looks fairly flat and I bet if you do a nice tight hand baste you can get everything lined up on the first try. Also this is not strictly speaking part of the sleeve but those little corners in the yoke? Good grief.

12. TNG Version 2A:

Never in my life have I seen an armscye like this. What is this even called? How do you construct it? I suppose I would sew the sleeve pieces together, set them in the armscye, then sew the raglan/yoke pieces together at the shoulder seam and then stitch them all the way across the front and then all the way across the back. But good grief. The ONLY other sleeve I could find remotely like this is this 1940s Simplicity pattern (it's on ebay if you want it).

With a few added seams you can imagine what these pattern pieces must look like.

13. TNG Version 1:

All the malarkey of 2A except you've got to do it in spandex. I'd pick wool any day. We also have a second yoke (?!) so now we have to do that little inverse corner TWICE and also add piping. Never in my life have I done an intersection of piping correctly the first time.

And then on top of all that it's ugly. Terrible sewing experience. Worst sleeve in Star Trek *bangs gavel*.

[forecast0ctopus]

Question: which starfleet uniform design is your favorite? (Mine is next gen’s)

im probably the very last person who should say anything about fashion but i always have very strong Opinions on costumes in movies/tv so. putting a read more here lmao

the tos uniforms Specifically the s1+2 velour ones – imo the light and shadow looks more interesting on that texture than the s3 ones. + big fan of the idea with them being not super structured and Not military, with exception for the rank braids and starfleet emblem. also the black collar is sewn on but i like the implication of layers im a big layers fan

also love the wrath of khan uniforms because while i do love the idea of a less structured uniform to be less militaristic i also uh. love structure. but its good at being its own unique thing rather than looking straight up militant like the aos red and grey ones

im a little over halfway through tng rn and i really like the uniforms in it!! except the red and yellow switch up. also i was struggling with seasons 1+2 because before they changed the material and added the collar they were horrendous lmao the material was so so so bad

havent watched anything besides those yet though so its not a super reliable opinion rn lmao

[gravedigginbbydoll]

Iced Coffee with Lavender Syrup

Barista! Robin x F! Reader

AN: Just a little blurb, flirting and fluff. Enjoy!

The only coffee shop with the right atmosphere and cozy beverages that you could stand was a tiny hole-in-the-wall place right next to the local bookstore. You felt at home among the dark brick walls, local artists’ work, and thrifted furniture. The atmosphere was cozy, with plenty of plants to liven up the place. You thought it couldn’t get any better. It was your safe haven. 

At least until she showed up. 

You had been scolding your friend over her recent trial at the brand-new cafe in town that was far too blindingly white and minimalistic in decor for you. She complained that it was overpriced and every barista looked like a copy of the others. “Super creepy,” She shivered, clearly set on not returning. 

You walked up to the counter and snorted, shaking your head. “Look, everyone knows that the best baristas are gay,” You stated jokingly, looking at your friend. 

“Never heard that one before.” A raspy voice interrupted your thoughts, and you felt goosebumps travel up your arm and heat spread across your face as you looked towards the counter. 

And there she was. A new barista. She had a choppy bob of wavy dirty blonde hair, and her long, straight nose was dusted with freckles that spanned out towards her cheeks. Her eyes were lined with messy black liner, and she wore mascara, causing her blue eyes to sparkle, a sort of mischief swirling in them. Her lips were twisted in a crooked smile. She wore the usual uniform of a black shirt and the label with the small shop’s logo and her name. Robin. You also see the telltale heart pin sporting the lesbian flag. 

Oh god. Hot lesbian barista.

She leaned forward towards the counter, palms flat on the barrier between you two. You noticed her many rings and short painted red nails on her hands. You felt a flutter in your stomach. You tried to meet her deep blue eyes regarding how they explored you. 

“So what’ll it be for you lovely ladies?”, She flirted, the raspy feminine voice making you feel the heat spread across your face again, this time reaching the tips of your ears. 

After that, it was a blur. You had ordered an iced lavender and oat milk matcha latte, which earned you an eyebrow raise and smirk. Your friend seemed oblivious to your useless pining and how you felt like you were struck by Cupid. 

When you walked up to grab the drinks, you noticed Robin had switched with her coworker and been the one to make them. When she called your order, your friend was on the phone with a family member, something important. You walked up to grab the drinks, your palms clammy and your voice weak. 

“Thanks…” you mumbled, grabbing the drinks Robin placed on the counter, your fingers brushing. You immediately raced away, making a beeline for your friend. You sipped on the drink, practically sighing. It was sweet and light and…perfect. You noticed a scribble on the cup, figuring it was the label for the drink. You glanced at the writing, feeling your stomach erupt in butterflies, and you felt your mouth get tugged up into a smile. 

Sappho’s Sip. 

From then on, you began visiting the coffee shop more than usual and staying longer when you had time to spare. You learned around when Robin arrived (she always came in around 10 am and stayed until 6 pm, unless it was a weekend, then she was there from 8 to 4.). You had come to visit for a sip before starting your day and coming in when it had ended, and you were free of responsibilities. 

You would curl up on the velour green couch that was so soft and clearly a well-loved vintage thrift, pulling your laptop into your lap and slowly sipping whatever Robin had concocted. You could barely speak in front of her but always seemed to squeak out your order when she asked. She had made a game out of it, writing different names of sapphic women in history, literature, and even media on your cups instead of your name. You had practically snorted when you saw the cup on the day, and she had written:

 ‘Alice from Twilight (Not gay but should’ve been).’

You knew she was funny, but your constant visits had you noticing little things about your (very pathetic) little crush past the basics. She got a tiny scrunch in her nose when someone ordered something she deemed questionable (which made you question her taste because who hates mint chocolate?!). She always seemed to sing softly in a sweet and serene voice along to the music softly coming from the speakers, and you were sure it was her own playlist because she knew every word. She seemed to really like what you deemed as ‘sad girl’ music (Phoebe Bridgers, Mitski, Beabadoobee, Lucy Dacus, Etc) but also was known to occasionally play more upbeat artists that were still very gay (MUNA, Rina Sawayama, Chappell Roan). She liked to dress in a gender-neutral way. She prided herself on the perfect combination of masculine and feminine clothing and accessories. She also was quick-witted and sharp-tongued, her sarcasm and teasing of her coworkers a clear sign of affection. She was consistently getting picked up by a tall man with brunette hair that practically wore him, the two of them constantly bickering and teasing each other until he left the shop with his free black coffee. 

Today you had a great day, which undoubtedly affected how you walked into the shop. You dressed nicely and tried to preen yourself to impress the tall blonde, trying to walk with your head held high and your chest forward. You see her at the counter, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest. Sure, it’s just a crush, but you can’t help but feel your breath taken away whenever she smirks at you or teases you for your order. 

She smiles that crooked and confident smile she reserves for you. Her eyes seem to especially twinkle, and her freckles remind you of a million little stars dusted across her nose. God, she was captivating. 

“What’s it gonna be? Iced Lavender Soy Mocha? Rose Oatmilk Latte?,” She teased, leaning a bit forward, elbows on the counter. You can smell her; the scent of coffee, tea, something floral, and a hint of sweetness. You wonder if she smelled like that after work, imagining hugging and holding onto her, catching a whiff of her away from the strong scent of coffee. Your stomach flip flops as you try to gain the courage, your voice stuck in your throat for a minute. 

“A-Actually…what would you recommend?” You eventually squeak out, your heart racing. She looks mildly surprised and then smiles in a way you’ve only seen with her (what seemed to be) closest friend. She had a wide toothy grin, her eyes slightly squinted and twinkling with amusement. 

“Aw, you want something from lil’ ol’ me? I’m flattered, Princess.”

You feel your heart going wild as your stomach twists and turns. You laugh softly, your whole face getting hotter by the second. “Yeah, I trust your judgment, Robin.” You see her smile turn crooked once again, the little smirk making you feel like you lost oxygen. You’re trying to play it cool, but you feel like screaming and jumping wildly inside. 

She cocks a brow at you playfully, grinning. “You sure you can handle it? I am a professional, after all. My drinks are much more intense than others,” She taunts, leaning forward as if this is a big secret. 

You nod, gulping down what little saliva you have. “I’m sure.” 

She nods and takes your payment, but you notice the significant discount from the receipt she hands you, something she clearly snuck in. 

You sit down, awaiting your drink, your hands shaky. Was she flirting? Or is she just nice? You felt like maybe she was trying to be friendly, and your brain misinterpreted it due to the blonde’s charming personality and good looks. You sit up when she calls your name, heading over to grab the drink, surprised she left it on the counter and winked at you since she usually hands it to you directly.

You look at the time on your phone, cursing and rushing out the door, remembering that you have to meet your friend to discuss some kind of get-together later for someone you were close to. While walking briskly, you glance at your cup and feel your smile grow, your heart aflutter as you read what Robin scribbled onto the flimsy plastic. 

Call me.

Below was scribbled a set of numbers and a messy heart. You hurried to add the number to your phone contacts, feeling your heart soar. You take a sip of the iced drink, and your tongue dances with something so delicious you feel the urge to moan. You smile and giggle softly to yourself, texting the new contact immediately. 

YOU: The Robin is a perfect drink. Best one I’ve had.

ROBIN: Guess your theory about gay baristas is fitting then, huh? Maybe we can test if it extends to other things, too…outside the cafe. 

You: I’d love to. 

You squeal, giggling while briskly walking to avoid sidewalk traffic, weaving through the crowd. You couldn’t wait to tell your friend about the blonde barista and see if she was better at everything. 

[femmenerd]

does anyone know where i can get an authentic star trek TOS uniform?? made with good REAL velour-y fabric not gross, scratchy plastic yuckiness.

[ozonecologne]

like HOW did you do the shading on that lnx piece!! the velvet?

🥰 I will happily walk you through my layer process for this piece!

First, I do a sketch of my subject from reference to get the general shape of things. Once I'm happy with it, I line everything in solid black with a default hard round brush.

You can see the outline of the durag above the forehead here, and my navigation panel to the right that shows where in the piece this is overall. This canvas was 8.5x11 inches at 720dpi, so I think the size of this outline brush was 15px? I think the smaller lines were a 5px, used with a really low pressure.

Once everything is outlined, I add a base color layer underneath the outline layer. I try to match this color to the reference as best as I can just using my eyes, but sometimes I help myself out by color picking the middle tone. I'm still learning about color so this step is hard for me. Cheat when you can!!!!

Once the main color is under there, I look really carefully at my reference and block in the shadows and variations in the colors that I can see, checking myself with the color picker as I go. I'm sure someday I will get faster at this, but color theory is hard 😮‍💨

I noticed a gray reflective purple-y shadow at the front, but also that the velour/velvet is not uniform. I use a soft round brush at different levels of opacity to make little dots that really tell you what texture this is, and then make the brush bigger and softer to unify them with some longer strokes. There's no rhyme or reason to this part, I just flip really fast between my canvas and the reference image to try and paint what I see.

Once all these colors are more are less where they're supposed to be, I adjust the line art color with clipping masks to make the shape a bit more organic. I just match the surrounding colors I've blocked in so we have a smooth blend, also paying attention to edge highlights.

Time for the bigger and brighter highlights to make everything pop! I lay down some bigger shapes first, like these long strokes of white that I soften at the edges with a low opacity soft round eraser.

You can see on the navigation bar to the right what the zoomed-out piece looks like at this stage. It's getting there, but there's a lot more texture and brighter highlights on this area! To really make it look like velour, I zoomed in on the reference image and noticed that a lot of the highlights at the front here are actually more of those dot shapes. That's what makes it look soft to the touch. I use a really small soft round brush at full opacity to pop those in:

YEAHHHHH now we're talking.

I've spent a lot of time on this area, so I'm ready to move on! Once the whole piece is finished, I use a trick that I learned from Elicia by duplicating everything I've drawn, merging it into one layer, blurring it, and lowering the opacity.

It might not be that noticeable here, but zoomed out it gives the whole piece a bit of a glow and softens up the lines. It makes the painting a little less crisp, a little more dreamy. I love learning tips like this from other artists I admire -- it doesn't always work out when you try to map someone else's style onto your own, but sometimes you find something that really sticks!

Finally, I put on some adjustment layers. I especially like to play with saturation since my color theory is still not that good, and I always worry about my contrast so I usually do a curves layer as well (lighten up the lights, darken up the darks). I'm also a fan of a nice pink overlay, but I didn't do that here. I don't think it needed it!

So now I'm done! And here's the finished piece:

Looks great :) Hope this is cool to you!!!

[arcanepactguile]

@top-shelf-tender 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐃: 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 || 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐓

Looking over his shoulder, preoccupied at the bar sideboard, seeing the intractable gambler re-enter the room after pulling a disappearing act for some time, both departure and arrival unannounced, he hadn't expected Husk to be dressed like that.

Tilting his head to one side at a steep incline, humming static broke into a cringeworthy vinyl's record scratch.

The Radio Demon enjoyed fashion. Of the bedroom variety, somewhat limited experience. Alastor couldn't recall any past memories that indicated the cat enjoyed dress-up; the fishnet, leather, the bulldog harness… From the front. Clueless how the sneaky cat looked from behind, he could only make an educated guess. Frozen, a wide-mouth glass in one hand, the other in the midst of dropping an ice cube into his gin and tonic, Alastor's features were fixed. Bewildered, taken aback, the buck’s eyes lowered, sweeping over his pet’s telling outfit.

Interesting. Even under all that fuss of an exotic Dom, Husk remained the recognisable easy game, child's play.

The clink of the ice cube falling into his drink, it snapped the Radio Demon out of his reverie. Frowning to himself, he briefly broke his line of sight and turned his back to return the tongs to the sideboard, shutting the liquor cabinet. Keeping his drink, Alastor turned back to stride over to his pet, raising the glass to take a contemplative sip after a deep inhale and swirl.

Facing Husk directly, Alastor kept silent, casting another surveying eye over his playmate’s uniform. The harness definitely looked like it was fun. Reaching out cautiously to slip one forefinger claw under the chest strap, finding it harder than anticipated, Alastor traced the tip along Husk’s line of muscle, trailing it down to the exposed nipple. Pulling his finger back, he let it go to not snap back but the best it could do, slide back into position.

Tone sly, a little bit accusatory, Alastor regarded Husk with a mocking unimpressed expression, his straying hand continuing to explore Husk’s fluffy fur, combing his claws through the coat covering Husk’s pec distractedly. The difference between fur and hard leather and flimsy ‘net was charming. Soft and yet hard.

“And just WHO were you planning to go out on a date with, dressed like THIS?"

Ears flicking forward in earnest, he himself wasn't dressed in anything special tonight. Husk had alluded to a quiet night in. The other tenants were busy elsewhere, maybe. Alastor hadn't been keeping track seriously. A plain velour belted lounge robe, bare hooved, briefs, the seat-fly for his tail to wag unhindered open. A pair of frameless reading spectacles replaced the monocle.

"Not anyone I know, I hope?”

[splatoongamefiles]

Here's all the gear names in the new update

LONG ass post so under the cut:

HEADGEAR:

Long-Billed Cap, King Flip Mesh, Blowfish Newsie, Pilot Hat, Barrelfish Baseball Hat, Octoleet Goggles, Worker's Head Towel, El Rey Calamar, Zekko Cap, Ink-Guard Goggles, Teal Pinhole Shades, Green Pinhole Shades, Pink Pinhole Shades, Yellow Pinhole Shades, Patched Hat, Fugu Bell Hat, Hothouse Hat, Mountie Hat, Black FishFry Bandana, Squidfin Hook Cans, Matte Bike Helmet, Deca Tackle Visor Helmet, Barrelfish Headgear, Slipstream Helmet Pro, Slipstream Helmet, King Facemask, Motocross Nose Guard, Digi-Camo Forge Mask, Yamagiri Beanie, Sneaky Beanie, Tee Time Visor

CLOTHING:

North-Country Parka, Octoleet Armor, Dev Uniform, Cooler Jacket, Fresh Octo Tee, Chilly Mountain Coat, Takoroka Windcrusher, FA-01 Jacket, FA-01 Reversed, Pullover Coat, Birded Corduroy Jacket, Deep-Octo Satin Jacket, Zekko Redleaf Coat, Lemon Mountain Coat, Zekko Jade Coat, Light Bomber Jacket, Navy Eminence Jacket, Tumeric Zekko Coat, Custom Painted F-3 , White Leather F-3, Chili-Pepper Ski Jacket, Whale-Knit Sweater, Rockin' Leather Jacket, Kung-Fu Zip-Up, Panda Kung-Fu Zip-Up, Shirt with Blue Hoodie, Grape Hoodie, Hothouse Hoodie, Pink Hoodie, Olive Zekko Parka, Black Hoodie, Baby-Jelly Shirt & Tie, Prune Parashooter, Red Hula Punk with Tie, Dots-on-Dots Shirt, Toni K. Baseball Jersey, Barrelfish Baseball Uni, Short Knit Layers, Positive Longcuff Sweater, Annaki Yellow Cuff, Annaki Red Cuff, Octarian Retro, Takoroka Jersey, Octo Jumper Home, Pink Easy-Stripe Shirt, Inkopolis Squaps Jersey, Lime Easy-Stripe Shirt, Annaki Evolution Tee, Zekko Long Carrot Tee, Zekko Long Radish Tee, Black Cuttlegear LS, Takoroka Crazy Baseball LS, Red Cuttlegear LS, Khaki 16-Bit FishFry, Blue 16-Bit FishFry, Sharkfin Raglan, Black V-Neck Tee, White Deca Logo Tee, Half-Sleeve Sweater, King Jersey, Gray 8-Bit FishFry, White Urchin Rock Tee, Black Urchin Rock Tee, Wet Floor Band Tee, Squid Squad Band Tee, Navy Deca Logo Tee, Mister Shrug Tee, Chirpy Chips Band Tee, Hightide Era Band Tee, ω-3 Tee, Missus Shrug Tee, League Tee, Friend Tee, Tentatek Slogan Tee, Octoking HK Jersey, Dakro Nana Tee, Dakro Golden Tee, Black Velour Octoking Tee , Green Velour Octoking Tee, Slate Streetstyle Tee, Red Tentatek Tee, Blue Tentatek Tee, Squid Yellow Layered LS, White King Tank, Slash King Tank, Navy King Tank, Lob-Stars Jersey, Fishing Vest, Front-Zip Vest, Silver Tentatek Vest, Tentatek Slipstream Vest, Teal Body Warmer

SHOES:

Deepsea Leather Boots, Annaki Arachno Boots, New-Leaf Leather Boots, Tea-Green Hunting Boots, Octoleet Boots, Knockout Boots, Cream Basics, Shivery Squidkid III, Fried Squidkid III, Big Squidkid III, Chained DC Toejamz, Jeweled DC Toejamz, Swirled DC Toejamz, Trifecta Duck Boots, Trifecta Hi-Tops, Trifecta Sandals, Smoky Wingtips, Gray Yellow-Soled Wingtips, Inky Kid Clams, Musselforge Flip-Flops, Cyan Dakroniks, Black Dakroniks, Piranha Moccasins, White Norimaki 750s, Black Norimaki 750s, Gray Sea-Slug Hi-Tops, Orca Hi-Tops, Navy Enperrials, Amber Sea Slug Hi-Tops, Yellow Iromaki 750s, Honey & Orange Squidkid V, Sun & Shade Squidkid IV, Orca Woven Hi-Tops, Green Iromaki 750s, Purple Iromaki 750s, Red Iromaki 750s, Blue Iromaki 750s, Orange Iromaki 750s, Red Power Stripes, Blue Power Stripes, Toni Kensa Black Hi-Tops, Sesame Salt 270s, Black & Blue Squidkid V, Orca Passion Hi-Tops, Truffle Canvas Hi-Tops, Crab-Trap Squidkid III, Violet Trainers, Canary Trainers, Yellow-Mesh Sneakers, Orange-Mesh Sneakers, N-Pacer CaO, N-Pacer Ag, N-Pacer Au, Sea Slug Volt 95s, Athletic Arrows, OB Gaiter Waders, Noir Guppies, Birch Climbing Shoes, Green Lace-Ups, White Laceless Dakroniks, Blue Laceless Dakroniks, Suede Gray Lace-Ups, Suede Nation Lace-Ups, Suede Marine Lace-Ups, Toni Kensa Soccer Shoes, Stamina Cycling Shoes, Energy Cycling Shoes, Polka-Dot Slip-Ons, Burden of Floof

[mechazushi]

So I'm cross posting the link to the My Dress Up Darling fic I finished. It's here on Tumblr as well, but I seem to get more traction if I cross post anyway.

And since I didn't just want to leave it at that, I want to talk about a headcanon idea I've had in mind for Wakana Gojo for a while now.

Basically, he makes street wear, but with his own take on it. He makes his samues and jinbeis, but now they're anime themed. And I'm not saying they looked like they were bought from Shein or Temu. You know, those cheap looking shirts and jackets that look like Goku's top or Deku's hero uniform that you sometimes see in shitty ads. I'm talking well thought out, genuine effort went into this, top quality design.

design description under the cut.

For example, I'm using the in-universe game "Coffin" and I'm gonna assume that it's their version of our Doki Doki Literature Club.

Could you absolutely take a samue, make it black and white, and just slather it in blood stains and nun imagery? Sure, but that's not what the game is. It was implied to be a subtle and unnerving build up to the bigger picture. So here's my idea on how to go about this.

First off, the base of the top would be made out of two different fabrics, but made to be the same color. For example, cotton and velour. While the same color, they catch and reflect light differently. The way I'm seeing it is since they're the same color, you could make a subtler pattern that might not be noticeable in low light, but more pronounced in brighter or more direct light. Looks like a black top, but wait! There appears to be a picture of severed hands praying.

There is red in the outfit, but it's all on the inside. You could only see it if you bent the right way or lifted your arms up enough to look down them.

There is nun imagery, but it's not blatant. Stitching on the cuffs looks like little white crosses and instead of the small bow tie that holds the top's panels together, it's a belt made out of wooden beads to represent a rosary. Maybe some of the little crosses have a red X on them to represent the dead sisters that get murdered in the game.

It's meant to come across as gothic and simple in inspiration and entices you in closer to look at its details, but once you do, you can't help but see that it's actually disturbing. That's what the game was and that's how Gojo represents it through clothing design. ( or a possible example at least)

I could totally see him coming up with a design for Flower Princess Blaze or Mandate of Heaven. (Mayyybe not Slippery Girls. (*・～・*).

Just something he could come up with to wear to conventions without feeling out of place or left out. He gets wears something he's comfortable in and its nerdy/ high quality so that's bound to make friends/meet people that could share interests with him.

[lovehotelreservation]

being a count is hard. being a freshly inducted count during ishgard’s (positive) upheaval is a nightmare. artoirel is not a man who indulges in the flesh so to speak… but with his mind muddled by stress of work, the Dollhouse he overhears his house’s knights discussing sounds awfully welcoming… there he finds maids with duties and talents so much different than what he is familiar with at the manor 👀 (riding + anal but like no, no master, no touching!! you must lean back and relax 💦💦)

"Why concern yourself with a spill, Artoirel? Is that not that meant for a maid's duty?"

It was a remark once chirped out by an adolescent Emmanellain that somehow lingered within Artoirel's memory, one that was immediately followed by the recollection of him smacking the back of his younger brother's head for his impudence.

Yet as he reclined further back into the fine cushions of his seat, he found himself conflicted with what was quickly becoming an imminent spill.

The wine glass he held with one hand danced between maintaining form and shattering into pieces all while the fingers of his other hand were ever so close to clawing right into the velour material of the arm rest they were set upon.

By contrast to his brothers, Artoirel had the closest alignment to having the most steadfast composure.

A composure that was likely to join the shattered pieces of his wine glass at the going rate, pushed and devastated to absolute ruin as he remained seated in place.

After all, on this evening, he had been left to the attentive whims of one of the Dollhouse's most cherished maids: you.

Your name had come across his name when he first caught word of Ishgard's debaucherous haven. Such an angelic name for someone with such mastery of wicked charm.

He had only known you since dusk and he was absolutely in your thrall.

The smear of rouge lips against his, the hike of lace and ribbon to reveal heavenly flesh, the teasing giggles that rang in his ear, the sweetly devious gaze that looked back his way, the sweet vice that caged every inch of his body in every sense of the word.

His teeth grit together as he fought back a growled curse.

He was your client, your master that must be catered to.

Yet as he was made to sit back under the promise that he would refrain from touching you directly, he could only bask in the salaciously sinful sight of your backside continuing to bounce on his lap, the lacy frills of your uniform brushing against his skin while he watched the full length of his cock sink deep into your ass.

Chivalry and decorum saw to it that he would not go against his word to you.

Yet base instincts and repressed need roared desperately within him to scoop you into his arms and plunge his dick inside of you at his leisure and your own pleasure.

Stuck in his own conflict, he thought to take an ever indulgent sip of his wine.

But it was then that he heard your voice once more as you turned to face him again, your lips stretched wide in a cheeky grin.

"Please drink up, Master Artoirel. I'll be happy to refill your glass as many--"

Your hips swiveled up while you brought your hand back to lay right upon his on the arm rest.

"--times as you'd like~!"

And with the final slam of your ass down onto the long length of his cock, it was then that the stem to his wine glass finally snapped as he threw his head back in pleasure with a delighted hiss, the thick and hot load of his seed flooding deep inside of you.

While rich red wine seeped into the rug below, the need to clean it up immediately was the furthest thought in both his mind of yours, especially as you proceeded to bring your lips to his once again, with him all too eager to reciprocate.

What was one more mess when he was utterly ruined by you?

[mrfelixfischoeder]

Chesterlypso - 7 >:)

7- Write about one member of your ship asking the other to dance with them.

WEHEHE i love this but also SURPRISE CHALYPSO

The hall is loud – the band the reverend hired were a tad unusual. Mary supposes with the rise of the Unmentionables, musicians are finding it harder to get jobs outside their comfort zone. So what little they had, they made do: be it the strings are far more violent and the drums louder and heavier. She does note that Orlaag’s charge, Olena, stands on stage with her violin. She is good. Unfortunate that her business seems to lie in the unknown than music. She sits at her table, happily sipping her sherry as she listens to Angie discuss her most recent commission from Orlaag.

“You seem to be quite good with him,” her friend points out, and Mary shrugs.

“I find him easy in personality and in temperament.” She excuses. Though it is as if God thinks she cannot have too much of a good thing: Angie nudges her, head angling to their right, and Mary spares a glance, not making it obvious (the pair had made it their duty to be able to peer and peek and not be noticed for maximum information retention and gossip). Chesterfield approaches, snakelike eyes on the women.

“I’m not putting up with this,” Angie mutters behind her fan, “I’ll get you another drink, right?”

“No, Angie, do not leave me!” Mary hisses, trying to bring her back down onto her seat, but Angie is already up and resilient.

“I’m not gettin’ kicked out of another ‘do!” she replies, winking as she hides her smirk behind her fan. Mary grits her teeth, the fabric of Angie’s dress slipping through her fingers. Another meek ‘no!’ escapes before she straightens and clears her throat, feeling the shadow of a predator falling upon her.

“Miss Huggenkiss!” Dr Chesterfield smiles. He’s got a new suit jacket, velour and red. She despises it (it would look good on Charles). “I see you are alone. That simply will not do.”

“Oh, I find it quite adequate, Dr Chesterfield.” Mary scans the room over his shoulder for anyone she might make eye contact with. Unfortunately she already sees Roisin and Magnus sneaking out onto the balcony. Angie is following around a waiter. Finally Chesterfield leans into her vision, as casually as he can.

“Nonsense, you do not know adequacy quite like I do.” Mary wonders how he thinks these words might make any sort of positive impact, if that is even his intention. Suddenly he holds his arm up, “Come, I think a dance. I have not seen you on the floor once. Surely not all your dances are reserved for the Colonel, even in his absence?”

At the mention of Charles, Mary wants to bristle. Wants to know where he is. Wants to write him another letter. But instead she smiles, standing up, eye to eye with the doctor. “No, not only him. I keep all my friends in mind.” She makes a show of looking around, “Though you will do, if it eases your emotional state that I dance with you.”

She isn’t sure if he simply allows the comment or it’s flown over his head. But as soon as he turns, hand gripping hers a bit tightly, he grunts as he walks right into someone. Chesterfield nearly raises his voice, until he stares at the bespectacled man, still in uniform.

“Colonel!”

Charles, she thinks with a sigh of relief. The moment she sees him she slips out of Chesterfield’s hold and to his side, taking hold of Charles’ arm to make sure he is not a mirage.

“I do not mean to interrupt, but I do believe that ah – the first dance is at least reserved for me.” Charles explains, looking at Mary. As their eyes lock, her gaze softens entirely, and she doesn’t even feel the smile that is present on her face. He smiles back at the warm reception. He always feels prosperous when she shows him her beautiful smile. “That has been our deal for a very long time.”

“Yes!” Mary nods, soothing her tone, “Yes. Apologies.”

“Indeed, apologies for the interruption, Mr Chesterfield.”

“Doctor.”

“Hm.”

Charles turns with Mary, the pair effortlessly joining the crowd, leaving Chesterfield in the shadows.

[fryandleelasbigfling]

one size fits all (a kif x amy fanfic)

another futurama oneshot ^^ will put links to ao3 and ff.net in the replies so it doesn’t mess with the tumblr spam system.

basically an excuse to establish some of my headcanons about amphibiosian gender about amy’s gender identity issues, aka me projecting gender identity issues onto amy ^^

"Just pick whatever you want, Kiffy. It's all on me."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

Kif wasn't used to having choices. He spent too much time taking orders that ranged from demeaning to downright dangerous, his attempted counterpoints always brushed off as "insubordinate" or "lame."

That's why he was always grateful to get time off with Amy. Besides being beautiful and brilliant, she always made sure they both had fun. She could be a little pushy sometimes, insisting he not be afraid of whatever social gathering or thrill ride she had in mind, but if he got too shaky or his camouflage came out, she'd make sure to ask, "Do you want to go home?" It was always worth it, though, to try so many new things with her. It made him feel alive in a way he never thought he could.

He figured today would be simple. There was a sale at Alien Overlord and Taylor's, and even though she didn't need the discounts, Amy wanted to check it out. ("The real fun is wrestling other girls over a half-price pair of pumps," she'd explained.) Captain Brannigan was scheduled for a tar bath, so Kif crawled off before the jackass had a chance to drag him along. Now here he was, navigating the aisles of the middle-end department store, holding Amy's hand like some lost child, overwhelmed by choice. A tiny tadpole in an enormous pond.

Fine jewelry, talking watches, personal assistants, gigantic televisions and holograms… Amy filled her bottomless cart with pretty much everything, but none of it caught Kif's eye. It was honestly kind of suffocating to have this much financial freedom. He was grateful that Amy was willing to buy him something… but at the same time, it was a lot of pressure. He felt like he was constantly being watched. And not just because of the numerous security cameras.

By the time they reached the formal clothing department, Kif was willing to just buy the first thing that looked halfway decent, just so Amy would believe he was having a good time. Kif's wardrobe was fairly limited, as he was usually obligated to wear his DOOP uniform and didn't have the time or closet space to dress up beyond that. On top of that, there weren't many dazzling wardrobe options for creatures without bones.

Darting his eyes from rack to rack, he finally found the one.

A chocolate brown cloak, with minty-green rings looping around the shoulders and turtleneck. Kif brushed his arm softly against the sleeve. Tightly-knitted wool, or some facsimile thereof, maybe sheared off some artificial sheep. Soothing to the touch either way. Kif needed warmer clothes for the rougher winter climates, since that velour nonsense wasn't enough to keep his cold blood warm. And, oh, what luck – a nearby rack with a plaid brown-green scarf that matched perfectly! (Was that rack there before? Did the store somehow read his thoughts to cater to his needs? What a convenient invasion of privacy!)

With a cautious but ever-growing smile, Kif flung the scarf around the dress's hanger and held it in front of himself. It went right down below his knees – comfortably modest. "Oh, Amy!"

His girlfriend was in the process of stomping some lady to the ground, a pair of kitten heels held triumphantly above her head. As she turned towards him, he struck a semi-confident pose. "I think I found my 'look'."

Amy let out an adorable giggle, then lifted her foot so her tortured adversary could scamper away. "Aw, Kif, you're so cute! But, uh…" Why was she hesitating? At least she didn't stop smiling. "You know you're in the women's section, right?"

Kif looked up behind him. Sure enough, he'd picked out his ensemble from the "women's petite" section. His confident pose melted into a pathetic slump. "Oh, I, uh, didn't notice, wow." He tried to put the dress and scarf back on the rack, but couldn't quite bear to let go.

As usual, Amy noticed Kif's anxiety and stepped in to mediate. "You can buy the dress. It's okay." She took it from his hand and gave it a nice look-over. "It's not something I'd pick up for myself, but I think it really brings out your skin tone. You're a total autumn!" She pinched his squishy cheek. "Spiffy little Kiffy." Kif felt a flush of relief, albeit not enough to flush out all his anxiety.

He then watched her throw the dress into that weird black hole of a cart, disappearing into her personal abyss. Kif looked down at the vast nothingness and gasped, but Amy was unfettered. "MomCorp'll just ship everything in one big bundle to my place tonight."

"Does it feel weird to buy from your company's biggest competitor?"

Amy scoffed. "Shplease. I'm off the clock. And Mom might be evil, but at least I know I'll get my stuff delivered on time without as many weird stains."

Once again, Kif was starstruck at the smallest of things. Amy never seemed indebted to anybody – not her internship, not the government, not even her family. If she cared to do anything for anybody, it wasn't because she was forced, it was just because she cared.

That made it all the more treasurable that she chose to share her life with him.

~~~~

Despite how easy it was to toss tons of merch into their cart, Kif and Amy still had to wait in the checkout line to pay for it all. Not that either of them minded spending more time together.

"Amy, I have a question for you," Kif began, "and I hope it doesn't come across as strange."

The Martian girl grinned. "Yes, I did buy that cute lacy thing a few aisles back, and I can try it on as soon as we get in the car."

"No! Not that." Kif felt himself flush again, his skin tinted the colors of his surroundings. "I meant, uh…" He gestured towards the segregated clothing racks through which they'd previously rummaged. "It feels like almost everything here is supposed to be for men or women only. It's very distinct, you know?"

"What?" Amy scoffed. "You make this place sound so unwoke. We have unisex clothing sections… somewhere around here…" She scanned the store for several seconds, then gestured to a few racks over in the corner. "See? Unisex, one-size-fits-all clothes, right over there."

The amphibian squinted where Amy was pointing. "Looks like a lot of beige cloaks."

"Well, what do you expect?" She shrugged. "If we can't fit it to a specific body type, why bother making it look cute?"

"See, that's what confuses me," Kif said. "On my planet, we all reproduce the same way. There is no 'male body' or 'female body.' We all wear the same shawls in the same colors."

"Sounds kinda blah," Amy said. "No offense."

"Well, the shawls aren't exactly the pinnacle of high fashion. We struggle to make it far in Miss Universe pageants…" Kif shook his head. "Whatever. My point is, on Amphibiosia 9, your gender isn't much of an issue."

Amy tilted her head. "So… how do you know you're a man?"

"It just felt right to me." Kif shrugged. "We adapted your ideas of gender centuries ago to make it easier to communicate with other planets. After a certain age, we just sort of decide if we'd like to live as a boy, or a girl, or some mix of the two, or simply continue living as genderless. And in my line of work…" Kif glowered as he remembered his first day on the job, and the disgusting awkwardness that came with Captain Brannigan not immediately clocking him as a male. "Let's just say, being male is probably the best option."

Amy stayed silent for a few seconds, then spoke one word. "Huh."

"Sorry if I went on a bit of a tangent." Kif twiddled his fingers together. "It's just so interesting to me how much of a role gender plays in your species. Fashion is women's territory. The military is only for men. Only women want to urinate entirely inside the toilet."

"I… don't think that last one's a thing."

"My captain insisted it was. I didn't believe him either." They both chuckled about that. The line moved slightly; they stepped forward in unison.

"I guess it's just funny to me," Amy said. "Not being raised as one gender or the other. I mean, I know some species don't even have gender, but then you don't really get a choice there, either." She lightly touched her neck, collecting her thoughts. "I can't imagine what it'd be like if I wasn't born a girl."

Kif grinned at his girlfriend. "Either way, I know you'd be wonderful."

Amy smiled in response to show her gratitude, but now her mind had derailed. Not growing up as a girl would have changed her whole life. Living on Mars, all that mattered to her family was that she was their heiress. She could indulge in the Wong family spoils all she liked, as long as she undertook the responsibility of keeping the Wong family going.

Be a little lady, stay cute, stay pretty, don't run around too much when company's over, get out of the stables, don't take a second serving, don't leave your room until you're under 110, keep quiet at the cotillion, don't waste time practicing your swing, you'll never have the upper body strength for it, don't look too cute or they won't think you're of child-bearing age, get out of the sweats and try on the dress we bought – oh god never mind you look like a cheap stripper, don't bother with middle-class men, don't mess around with chemicals or you'll end up infertile, stop talking so much, stop wasting your life in space, get married already, have children already, stop working already, settle down already.

If she were Amphibiosian, if she could choose not to be a girl without ever having to live as one… would she?

Suddenly Amy felt a bump against her back. It seemed the line had moved up again, and the people behind her didn't appreciate her spacing out.

"Are you okay?" Kif took her hand.

"Yeah, totally!" Amy brushed herself off. "Just thinking." They stayed silent for a few more seconds, then she added, "I think that's really cool, having that choice all to yourself."

"Oh, Amy…" Kif's eyes went sad. "Do you not want to be a girl?"

"No!" she responded quickly. "I mean, yes, I like being a girl. I like calling myself a girl. I like being your girlfriend." Now Kif was blushing greener than spring. "But I feel like other people keep trying to decide what that means, and it's so…" She struggled to find the right word to convey this complicated feeling. "...bleh. Sometimes I feel like it'd be easier if I could just take days off from it, you know?" Amy chuckled a bit, but she wasn't entirely sure if she was joking.

"I've never really thought about it, but you'd make a handsome gentleman, if you're wondering about that."

"I'm not! I mean, thanks, but like… gluh, I don't want to be a boy either!" She made some motions with her arms. "I'd just like to be a girl when I want to be a girl, and then maybe detach my gender and just, I don't know, stay in and watch a movie and eat something that'll give me acne." She waved her hands again. "Like, I don't know if I want to live that way forever, cuz it's not like it works for my poor friends, but to just, like… try? To… not try?"

Kif couldn't really follow what Amy was talking about, exactly. He'd never lived as a woman in this universe, nor had he spent long periods of time being mistaken for one. The way Amy strode into a club in her perfect little outfit, he'd never suspect that she had any anxieties about how she looked. She'd even insisted he not worry about her parents and their never-ending scorn. But perhaps there was something looming over her too.

Instead of Commander Brannigan and his asinine requests, she was bound by the weird rules humans projected onto their women.

(Though there was certainly some overlap between those threats.)

Amy gave a small smile. "Sorry. I have no idea where that came from. It's nothing."

As they finally reached the checkout counter, she stood up taller and flashed her perfectly-white teeth at the spindly robot cashier. "Is everything you'd like to purchase in your cart?" the cashier asked, pulling their purchase up on a screen before her.

Originally Amy felt ready to move on. But once Kif's cute little cloak popped up, with the "women's petite" label stuck next to it, she looked down at her bottomless cart and wondered if she really was exploring all options.

"Kiffy, can you wait right here?" She pushed the cart towards Kif. "I just want to check something out."

Feeling their fingers touching on the handle, the little frog swooned. "Of course, dear. Just hurry back–"

But before he could even finish the sentence, she'd pecked him quickly on his bulbous head and run back off into the aisles. Hundreds of customers grumbled behind Kif, but as long as he knew Amy would come back, he wouldn't let it bother him too much.

~~~~

After such a lovely day with his smizmar, going back to his tiny room on the Nimbus felt more like a prison than usual. In fact, Zapp sometimes used it as a makeshift cell for dangerous prisoners, even while Kif was sleeping, so Zapp could play pool in the actual holding cell.

But then his little laptop lit up with a call request from the only number that ever called, and the room got a bit brighter.

He accepted the call. "Hello again," he said, keeping his cool.

"Kiffy-wiffy!" Amy's face took up his whole screen.

"Any reason you're so close to the camera?" he asked. Amy was quite skilled at manipulating her camera, so if she wasn't showing her body, it was for a good reason.

Oh… Kif could already feel himself melt at the possibility that maybe there wasn't much she had to show but herself.

"I just wanted you to see something I got." Her face went relaxed in a way that seemed to confirm his suspicions.

Kif started stammering, hiding his face in his hands as if they hadn't done this routine thousands of times before, both online and in person. But when he peered through his fingers at the screen, it wasn't what he'd expected at all.

A short green vest over a loose-fitting white button-down, with the sleeves neatly rolled up to Amy's elbows. She wore a plaid tie that seemed to perfectly match the scarf he'd just bought, and sensible khaki capris. She topped it off with a green newsboy cap.

"Wow, Amy…" Kif started. "You look so…" He struggled to find the words. "Coordinated!"

"Exactly!" She beamed. "I wanted to get something to go with your dress. And I thought… maybe it'd be interesting to look in the men's department?" She shrugged. "Just to see what it's like."

Kif took in his girlfriend's beauty… er, handsomeness? Frankly, any word that could positively describe a person's appearance applied to her here. "Do you like it? I mean, I know I do, but… how do you feel?"

"It's not bad at all! Obviously I wouldn't've bought it if it looked crappy." Amy tugged at the front of the vest. "I'm just not sure I love how it fits."

"Maybe it just needs some alterations."

"Hm." Amy pondered aloud. "You could be right. Let me try something."

She took her vest and shirt off like it was nothing, sending a shock down Kif's nervous system. She ducked out of frame for a few minutes. The hum of a laser emanated through the computer.

When she put her altered clothes back on, she seemed much happier. "How about that?"

Her shirt now cut off just below her breasts, and her vest only went halfway down her waist. She put her hands on her hips and posed, showing off her midriff with pride. Now it was totally Amy.

Her boyfriend clasped his hands with delight. "It's perfect!"

"I don't get why more guys don't do this," Amy half-joked, twisting her body around. "Some of them totally have the hips for it."

"Maybe next time we go out, you can set an example," Kif said. "You wear that suit… I'll wear my dress."

She gasped. "Maybe next time I'll get you something in pink!"

"We could go down the entire color spectrum together, the two of us."

"Mm-hmm," Amy nodded. "I'll probably still throw in as much pink as I can, though." She shrugged. "But it's fun to mix it up a bit."

They both gazed into their screens, dreaming of the next time they'd venture into public together, showing the universe the styles they'd chosen for themselves.

Or maybe just sit inside, watch a movie, and eat something that'd give them acne. If they allowed themselves to do so, of course.

At least they both knew they'd allow each other to do anything.

[cocaina-kiyori]

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[ochoislas]

CANCIONES

Un mantillo de raíces mojadas sobre un terreno que tiende al cabo de la vista su balsa de planchas parejas que ata el horizonte es ahí que crece lejos de avenidas fatales y casuales encuentros la hierba ardiente de las canciones

Cuando liguemos nuestras voces despedidas del golfo de gargantas donde se apila la bruma con aquéllas que proyectan sus cadencias espirales columnas de tuertas estrías por sobre el llano aherrojado la hélice del canto remontará muy alto en el aire y su bordoneo será más tenue que el del lúpulo los días que sopla viento y estremece las leves cañas a las que se enlazan los tallos como se enlaza a un corazón una trenza de cabellos rubios

Luego se excavará una escalera y su broca secreta se hundirá en la tierra guiándonos al fondo de esta caverna de extrañas bóvedas donde las cenizas de aquéllas que fueron lavas risueñas desechan sus sederías ardientes sus escorias de terciopelo para cobrar la sutileza de los espectros

Os traicionará entonces el cielo a los que no amáis más que la luz y lejos de las sólitas riberas os perderéis en el océano de los males

tal es la canción de los cráteres.

*

CHANSONS

Un terreau de racines mouillées sur un sol étendant jusqu'au bout des regards son radeau fait de planches uniformes liées par l'horizon c'est là que pousse loin des avenues fatales et des recontres de hasard l'herbe brûlante des chansons

Quand nous mêlerons nos voix jetées hors du gouffre des gorges où s'entasse le brouillard à celles qui projettent leurs cadences spirales colonnes à rainures torses au-dessus de la plaine enchaînée l'hélice des chants montera très haut en l'air et son bourdonnement sera plus doux que celui du houblon les jours où le vent souffle et fait trembler les perches légères auxquelles les tiges s'enlacent comme à un cour s'enlace une tresse de cheveux blonds

Puis un escalier se creusera et sa vrille secrète s'enfoncera dans la terre nous conduisant au fond de cette caverne aux voûtes étranges où les cendres de celles qui furent des laves très rieuses abandonnent leurs soieries embrasées leurs scories de velours pour acquérir la ténuité des spectres

Alors le ciel vous trahira vous qui n'aimez que la lumière et loin des rives coutumières vous vous perdrez dans l'océan des maux

telle est la chanson des cratères

Michel Leiris

di-versión©ochoislas

[eclipsecrowned]

“care to dance?” / RAVUS >:3c // @ithirial

The shoe's on the other foot. It's pinching her heel terribly, a snakebite, a manacle. The role doesn't fit her, even if Luna had worn it to perfection.

She supposes the Empire is going to have her break it in regardless.

But the music is sweet, and the alcohol heady -- Carvaugh region, she thinks, it cost a fortune to import to Insomnia. Here, it flows like water. One of the perks of subjugating the rest of the map, she supposes. How lucky for he Imperial nobles and generals packed in tonight.

She studies Ravus wordlessly. They're going to be in-laws, come morning, with chains around every wrist and ankle. Sisters and brothers, bound to the same war machine. Her stomach churns. Her whole body feels like some other animal's cast-off meat.

Setting her glass aside, trusting that she'll need more wits than wine, Stray prays that the smile reaches her eyes. Her tongue is a dead thing in her mouth, heavy with spices. It's buried too shallow. Her nerves are begging for her to scream. How do you just accept this? How do you let this happen to her?

And Gods, how unfair that would be to him. She eyes the hand nearest to her, a mechanical imitation of flesh. No. She isn't about to demand anything of Tenebrae's last son. What has she done to save her own brother from this farce, that she can blame Ravus?

Blue eyes meet his, and she sighs quietly. The dark velvet of her gown whispers against the stone floor, another cheap trick on the part of the Empire. Such heavy fabric would weigh her down in the rain, if she tried to flee. At least she and Ravus will make a lovely contrast, midnight velour against a pristine uniform.

"Prince Ravus, nice of you to finally notice me. I've kept my dance card open for you," she says. Her laugh is mirthless. She's sorry he has to hear it, not for what it is, but for what it could be interpreted as. Small, white hands extend to him, the nails broken, the veins standing stark. Her journey has not been easy.

"I'm not much for waltzes, but I'd say pickings are pretty slim. Shall we?"