#and you pick out clothes for them there

[izanori]

idk who needs to hear this, but if it hasnt already been done i want to clear up some things

Fashion Dreamer is not Style Savvy. BUT. It’s created by Syn Sophia, just like Style Savvy was. So, if you’re still holding out for a title that’s specifically called Style Savvy it’s time to give up, because it’s very safe to assume that Fashion Dreamer is meant to be Style Savvy’s spiritual successor. This may be due to influencers and other internet personalities being way more popular than wanting to run a store among children these days.

so… yea. ^_^

[sysig]

Permission to headbutt: Granted (Patreon)

[noprxmises]

so you’re telling me that nico was in charge of their stadium series costumes and took it upon himself to buy everyone’s outfits himself (like some kind of sugar daddy) and made the very conscious very deliberate decision to buy jack a women’s tracksuit…?

ok

[puppyeared]

updated xin ref

[ariesbilly]

billy and steve having a kid and they have this unserious contest between each other where steve dresses them in preppy clothes and billy gives them more of a blue collar metal style all in the hopes theyre swaying their kid into either of their styles

but it all backfires when the kid hits like middle school and decides to become full goth and theyre both just like "oh... okay...." like theyre supportive but also they were really pulling for a win

[turkwriter]

If Grimmons actually became canon

Sarge: I'm so conflicted!

-Sarge turns to Simmons-

Sarge: On the one hand- Simmons! How could you?! Stoop so low as to... consort with a waste of human excrement like Grif?!

-Sarge looks between Simmons and Grif-

Sarge: On the other hand, you took one for humanity in making sure this miserable waste of a fine piece of sorta red armor never manages to reproduce!

-Sarge glances at Tucker-

Sarge: Unless...

-Sarge immediately lifts his shotgun to aim at Grif-

Sarge: Can't be too sure. Better safe than sorry.

[snackugaki]

tmnt au doodlz

[worstloki]

if there was 1 item of their outfits that they had to keep on them while bared otherwise naked the recognisable option for Thor would be Mjolnir and for Loki it would be his helmet.

[newlyy]

Clown on me if you must, but 9/11 does get me. How could it not. I make the jokes too, but it’s one of those things that I can’t think about or watch shows about or read about because it affects me too much.

[boxwinebaddie]

NINNAAAA WHATS SPCD STAND FOR??

oh, it's not that exciting, it's actualy awful. i mentioned it towards the tail end of chapter five of rm. it's basically what cartman used to call kyle when they were growing up. a really cruel fucked up nickname.

the s.p.c.d,

or rather,

the south park city dump. :(

the sp boys used to be fucking horrible to kyle because cartman ruled their elementary/middle school. and when cartman and the boys saw kyle in the hallway they were like "what are you doing here, broflovski? trash day's tomorrow" or omg whenever he walked ANYWHERE they made the "Beep! Beep! Beep!" trash truck noises, but worst of all was that they used to dump out...Full Trashcans On Him. like spoiled milk, rotted food stuffs, glass bottles that werent put in recycling, crushed aluminum cans that cut his cheeks, all kinds of awful, foul smelling sludge...sigh. :/ ily so much baby jersey.

also, if you want to cry extra hard, i think that being covered in all that disgusting lunchroom trash, feeling it soak thru his shirt, stink down to the skin, pool around his shoes, get buried in his hair -- just feeling that dirty and disgusting and Unclean was one of the factors that made his ocd so severe and it's a large part as to why he takes scorching showers and rubs his skin raw bc especially if he smells something weird or its trash day, he gets triggered & has to SCRUB.

but anygays! you bet your ass that tiny lil stan was giving them ALL the business rippin around on his bike brandishing his hockey stick like a big sword, running them out of town and back to their mommas crying and screaming bloody murder all in that giant wayne gretsky *ravenstan vc* yersey...they were SCARED, lolllll!!!

which is a very interesting juxtaposition to sweet, gentle stan very lovingly picking all the food debris out of his kyles beautiful curly whirly hair before marching him over to the bathroom where while kyle showers, stan always sits on the toliet bc their running joke is that kyle might drown ( yes yersey also can't swim ) while stan listens to rock n colors his nails in w/ sharpie or stolen nail polish from shell.

and he's just like "dude, Fuck them, kyle! those fkn gilipollas are just mad because theyre all total perros and you're the most handsome guy in school, hands down." wHICH? AAA??? tbf stan does say shit like that all the time & Means It bc ravenstan has loved jers from the moment he Heard him but kyle thinks he's fuckin w/ him

bc haha!

very fun joke, stan! hit on the weird, overweight, clunky, awkward, nerdy loser boy to make him feel better about himself! great joke, bro!

bUT ITS NOT A JOKE, BESTIE!!!!

HE WANTS TO KISS YOU SO BAD!!!!!!!!

not them both bein secretly and painfully in love with each other but convinced that acting on their feelings would ruin their friendship/be unrequited and both of them being like "he is perfect, what would he want with a fuckin Loser like me?" :/ </3 WERE IN HELL!!!

regardless of thinking it was a joke, it totally made kyle blush, my rosecea king and stan was sooo nervous like oh my god, you are SO stupid, stanley marsh!!!!! guapo??? gUAPO BITCH??!!!! ARE U ACTUALLY INSANE!!! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU??!!!

i love nervous ass tiny stan with his massive universe sized crush on kyle broflovski that he carries around in his black jansport backpack at all times...along with the weight of the world, ofc. we know this.

but anyways..off topic.

closing thoughts?

fuck you fartman.

-uncle nina, tiny but big baby jersey kyle defense club

( don't touch my sweet son!!! MY BABY!!!!! )

p.s. i'm sorry i just started making new sections without warning. i wanted a way to post about what the boys looked or acted like during different periods of their lives -- so like, satana ( which is what stans mom called him ) refers to the period of time before the fire and kyle's 'the s.p.c.d.' section also refers to that period of time.

it's cool you guys are so perceptive tho! i hope you like them <333 you're always welcome to ask me questions about them xx

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

why does everything have to be a hecking issue with my sister

[carewyncromwell]

"You want a ride to fame? I've got the fastest route! What's it gonna be? Are you in or out?"

x~x~x~x

HPHM Cardverse developed by @ariparri // Rakepick's outfit // Duncan's outfit // the more "court-worthy" outfit Duncan eventually bought for Jacob

x~x~x~x

The day Jacob Cromwell first arrived at the palace of Spades, he earned more than a few skeptical side-eyes. It was hard not to judge Jacob poorly, when he strolled inside dressed in clothes more appropriate to working in a mechanic's shop than in one of the most powerful royal courts in Cinderhaven. His black slacks and white shirt were clean and his boots were polished, yes, but he'd rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and the lone pop of color in Jacob's outfit -- his red suspenders -- were far too informal for such a setting. And yet Jacob walked with his head held high, almost arrogantly so, and went straight to work in his new workshop just down the hall from the office of his boss, the also very recently installed Jack of Spades, Duncan Ashe.

One of those most skeptical of Jacob -- at least at first -- was the Ace of Spades, Patricia Rakepick. She had been the one hold-out in selecting Duncan as Ulrich Scheller's replacement, citing his young age and subsequent lack of experience as rationale, but she'd ultimately been overruled. Not only did the King of Spades, Oskar Doyle, support Duncan's promotion, but the Queen of Spades had agreed with it too, before her tragic death. Even Ulrich Scheller himself was steadfast about Duncan being the one to take his old position.

"Mr. Ashe may be young, but he has discerning judgment -- far better than even I had at his age," the former Jack had said. "I've always valued his counsel as my subordinate, and I think the Court of Spades will come to appreciate that very same counsel once he takes my place."

Rakepick was not convinced. And, to be fair, it was hard for her not to feel some resentment at how seemingly easily it had been for Duncan Ashe to climb the ranks of power, while still fresh out of university. Perhaps it was dumb luck or the fact that Duncan was a young man with a good sense of dress from a reasonably well-respected family -- a more objective source might also have pointed out that Duncan was a far more likable person than Rakepick. Even despite his brusqueness, he could be witty and funny and yet also dedicated, down-to-earth, hard-working, and supportive. Duncan chased his ambitions with laser-precision, and yet he also never failed to take helpful input from the people around him. His pride was never so inflated that he couldn't take constructive criticism or admit when he was wrong, nor was it an obstacle to him making iron-clad friendships that gave him people in his corner who stuck with him solely out of sincere enjoyment for his company.

Rakepick's critical view of Duncan Ashe, however, completely justified her initial suspicion of Jacob Cromwell. This suspicion quickly flickered out, though, when she made a point to stop by the Jack's stooge's new workshop.

It was still quite early that morning — most of the King’s, Jack’s and Ace’s staffs had only just started their work for the day -- and yet that oddly chipper new "favorite" of the Jack of Spades' was already hard at work. He’d arrived a good half hour before his scheduled shift and used that extra time to hang up the blueprints for the couple dozen projects he'd already hashed out to show "Ashe" when he arrived later that morning. Then, at his formal start time, Jacob set about testing out his new power-saw (which the curly-haired young man had fanboyed over when he first saw it) to cut out a metal skeleton for his blimp prototype while also making some alterations to the blueprint on his desk.

By the time Rakepick dropped in, she found Jacob in the midst of a short "break" in his work, which entailed him adjusting the screws on a device set up under his desk.

Because Jacob was so preoccupied with what he was doing, he didn't get a good look at who had entered. And because he was so used to being an overworked part-time mechanic, cook, and librarian, his first instinct was not to stop what he was doing, introduce himself to the person, and ask how he could help them, but to greet the stranger cheerfully without even looking up from his work.

"Hey there! Come on in and look around if you’d like — I’ll be right with you!"

Rakepick cocked her eyebrows at the young man largely obscured under the desk, tightening the screws on what looked like the foot pedal of an old sewing machine. With a roll of her eyes, the Ace looked around — only to be startled by the prototype hanging over her head.

It resembled — for lack of a better term — a small mechanical dragon, with its “head” and “limbs” cut into halves hanging from separate wires. The wings were crafted out of aluminum, carved wood, and fabric, and the “body” was a balloon with multiple model stairways attached to it and aluminum “legs” hanging off of them and cut open to show off rooms on the inside. Even the head (adorned with two thick lightning rods as horns) was cut down the middle to show off a miniature cockpit on the inside.

Rakepick actually raised her gloved hand to shift the head around, her eyes widening with interest upon the intricately designed interior. It even had a miniature control panel with what looked like tiny fuses. When she tapped at one of the levers inside the model, two spotlights appeared out of the dragon’s mouth, casting a light down onto the multiple blueprints laid out on the desk.

"It’s a modified blimp," said Jacob’s voice from under the desk. "Those mouth lights would be hydroelectric-powered, via collected rainwater -- I originally thought of using solar power, but too much concentrated heat could run a risk of the thing catching fire, since the blimp itself would use hydrogen...much less rare alternative to helium…"

Rakepick raised her eyebrows. "Hydroelectric power, you say?"

Didn’t Duncan Ashe bring up something once about hydroelectric power in one of his meetings with Ulrich Scheller…?

"Yeah!" said Jacob cheerfully, still not looking up. "I brought it up to Ashe a while ago, shifting our main source of power away from coal and toward hydroelectric -- and he thinks it’d be a great way to save money for other projects. Plus water's much less hazardous to work with…though if coal can be mined more safely, I reckon it could still be used, just in smaller amounts…still need to make a prototype or two for that project…"

Then this person was where Duncan Ashe stole that idea from. Rakepick pursed her lips. It seemed this new Jack really was good at getting credit not rightfully owed him.

"But hey, there's only so much time in a day!" Jacob laughed to himself. "Only sent my letters of resignation in yesterday morning — didn't really have time to get all these ideas out of my head, before that…"

Rakepick glanced around. By her count, she could see five unfinished blueprints hung up on the wall, one more and several printed graphs on the work bench next to an old phonograph, and what looked like a row of small plant boxes with thermometers stuck in each one.

"…You did all this just in one day?" she asked.

"In half a day, a night, and some of this morning. But yeah."

This boy works hard, thought Rakepick.

"Though a few ideas I'd been ruminating on for a while, beforehand," Jacob pressed on. "I just hope it's enough…I've never worked as any kind of advisor before. Don't really know how much my work will be commission-based and how much will be free-lance…"

Rakepick crossed her arms, considering the young man's spade-gloved hands under the desk testing out the little sewing machine wheel he'd attached to the leg of his desk. Only when he turned it did Rakepick realize it was attached to the phonograph on the desk, and the wheel turning also made the crank handle rotate.

"I think that depends on whether that project on your desk is something the Jack commissioned," said Rakepick, "or if you came up with it for him by yourself."

Jacob laughed. "Oh, this? Nah, this is just a personal project...I wanted to use it back at the mechanic shop, originally, but I didn't have proper room for it...Wyn, my sister Carewyn, she let me keep it in pieces under our window, until I could figure out where to put it -- "

Once Jacob had finished his adjustments, he got up off the floor at last, sat down in his chair in front of the blueprint, and pressed the foot pedal. The pedal made the wheel rotate, which subsequently turned the crank on the phonograph so that it could play the record set on it.

"When the red, red robin comes bob-bob-bobbin' along...along... There'll be no more sobbin' when he starts throbbin' his old sweet song..."

Jacob's almond-shaped blue eyes lit up in delight seeing his invention working right, and he cheerfully sing along to the next few lines.

"Wake up -- wake up, you sleepy head! Get up -- get up, get out of bed! Cheer up -- cheer up, the sun is red! Live, love, laugh, and be happy..."

Rakepick's eyes trailed over the modified phonograph, along the careful metal-work attaching the disparate pieces and the screws securing them to the work bench. All this effort and inventiveness, for something this boy wasn't intending to get any reward for from his employer...

Rakepick's lips curled up in a very slight smirk. She had to admit -- she was impressed.

Still pedaling away to play the song on the record, Jacob finally looked up at the person who'd entered his workshop with a smile. That smile dimmed, though, when he realized just who he was talking to.

"Oh," said Jacob, startled. His foot stopped pedaling as his eyes flitted quickly to the sword at Rakepick's side and the stylized silver-white pauldrons on her shoulders. "Uh...you with the military or something?"

Rakepick smirked. "'Or something.' Patricia Rakepick -- Ace of Spades. And you'd be Jacob Cromwell, of course."

"Uh -- yeah." Jacob looked sheepish.

Rakepick's smirk widened a bit. "You seem surprised to see me."

"Sorry -- I didn't think anyone outside of Ashe's people would be interested in any of this," said Jacob, sounding slightly abashed as he crossed one leg across his lap. "I mean, this stuff's really more for interior projects -- nothing that fancy..."

"You sell yourself short, Master Cromwell," said Rakepick. She once again indicated the prototype of the blimp hanging from the ceiling. "Frankly I'd say with a brain like yours, you could make a rather fine Jack yourself, some day."

Jacob's blue eyes went very wide. Then, almost immediately, his expression gained a much darker look -- one that swept through offense and disgust so thoroughly that it was close to revulsion.

"Uh -- no," he said incredibly bluntly. "Ashe is the Jack."

"I never said he wasn't," said Rakepick, "merely that you're more than qualified for such a position. More qualified than many candidates I could envision as Jack...or King, for that matter..."

"I wouldn't want the post, in any case," Jacob cut her off. "I'm not here to do Ashe's job, or the King's."

So this boy had no ambition in that direction? That was reassuring, to Rakepick.

"Good to hear it," said the Ace, before she added a bit more lowly, "...Though it occurs to me that may be why you were brought here in the first place."

Jacob's eyebrows furrowed. Rakepick folded her arms behind her back as she considered him.

"Mr. Ashe brought up your ideas to the rest of court, long before your arrival," she said grimly. "He's glided to where he is partly on the back of your creativity -- is it so surprising that he'd want to keep leeching off of your efforts and use them to earn further prestige for himself?"

Rakepick's eyes narrowed a bit.

"Your talents are far too impressive for you not to get full credit for them, Master Cromwell. I can think of quite a few projects outside of the Jack's domain that could use a mind like yours -- ones that would pay very well and offer further rewards, for your efforts."

Jacob, however, had already closed himself off visibly -- he slouched back in his chair and crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing.

"No offense, Madam Ace, but I'm not here for money or 'prestige' or whatever. I don't give a damn about politics -- I'm here because I want to do something useful, not prance around like a show horse, schmoozing with people. The only power I care about is the power in my brain and in my own two hands -- and I intend to use them to work really hard and make things that solve real problems. I want to help Ashe and the Country of Spades, however I can."

Rakepick's brows raised. This boy wasn't interested in financial reward either? A truly rare breed, to find at court.

"...That's quite noble of you, Master Cromwell," she said, and she meant it. "And it's for that reason that my offer still stands. If you wish so much to be of use, your talent and creativity would be incredibly useful, in giving the army the means to protect the Country of Spades. Your blimp prototype, for instance -- I imagine it could be a perfect flagship, with some minor alterations and a proper set of guns -- "

"Guns?" Jacob repeated, appalled. "Madam, the blimp of that prototype is full of hydrogen. Anything using gunpowder could risk setting the whole thing ablaze. That flying machine is strictly meant for long-distance transport, to reduce travel time and be more resilient to bad weather..."

"A very good idea, when our King has to travel frequently to other parts of Cinderhaven."

The stylishly dressed Jack of Spades had materialized seemingly out of nowhere and walked up behind Jacob's chair, bringing his hand onto his subordinate's shoulder. Jacob looked up at him, and his expression immediately brightened.

"Ashe!"

"I'm flattered that you approve of my staff appointments, Madam Ace," said Duncan, though his voice betrayed a notable edge, "but as you might've noticed, Jacob has quite a few projects already in the works for his place here, working for me. I'm afraid any commissions you might wish to offer him will have to wait."

Rakepick pursed her lips. She got the feeling that Duncan had overheard a lot more of her and Jacob's conversation than he would've admitted -- he was more than clever enough to eavesdrop for important information before making himself known.

"Perhaps," she granted. She turned on her heel, but paused long enough to shoot a cold smile over her shoulder at Duncan. "But don't hoard him away all for yourself, Mr. Ashe. A young man of talent like Master Cromwell could change the world, so long as he has the freedom to chase his own success."

Duncan clenched his jaw as the Ace strolled off.

"Don't hoard him away" -- you dodgy geebag, if you even think of trying to snatch Jacob up for yourself -- !

"What a weird woman."

Duncan looked at Jacob, startled, to see the man frowning very deeply at Rakepick's retreating back.

"She acts like she's complimenting you, and then she says things that make absolutely no sense," Jacob muttered irritably. "'So long as he has the freedom to chase his own success' -- as if I somehow don't? And insinuating that I'm here to do your job...I'm a technology guy, I'm not here to waste time kissing up to people..."

"Good to know you think I'm wasting time," Duncan said very dryly.

Jacob looked sideswiped. "Huh? What, no -- I didn't say that! I said it'd be a waste of time for me to do that..."

"Of course it would -- I'm already doing it," Duncan cut him off smoothly with a wry smile.

His smile then faded as his face grew more serious.

"...Jacob...what Rakepick said...it's not true, not a bit of it. Of course, yes, I did share your ideas at court -- but I did not take credit for them...I told the former Jack they were yours. And I didn't want you here so you could do my work for me or make me look better. I wanted you here because...well, your ideas are useful, and I..."

I want you around. I want you around all the time, not just at that old tavern every Tuesday and Thursday...

Duncan swallowed, his dark eyes flitting down to Jacob's lips and back up into his blue eyes.

"...I do...want you to succeed. I want your work to be appreciated. All of it -- whether it's for me or not."

Jacob grinned. It made his blue eyes sparkle, even though his face lacked any light of revelation about the unspoken sentiment in Duncan's posture.

"I know, Ashe," he said. "And that's all I want, really, to know my work means something. Sure, the paycheck's great -- " he gave a cheekier grin, " -- makes it easier for me to support myself, Wyn, and Mum, you know...but I took the job because you wanted my help, needed my help. And well, you know me...I like to help people. Especially the ones I care about."

Duncan tried very hard to bite back the flush rising in his cheeks. Somehow Jacob completely missed it, though, because his focus was drawn to the blueprint he'd left on his desk.

"Speaking of which!" he said brightly. He snatched up the blueprint and held it up for Duncan to see. "I sketched out a concept for a new hydroelectric generator, for your upcoming meeting with the King of Spades! I suggested several dimension sizes, since I wasn't sure how big the boiler here is, but I thought the palace would be a good place to test its efficiency and ability to heat multiple levels..."

Duncan looked it over and nodded in approval.

"Not bad," he said, and his lips unfurled in a more mischievous smile. "I think the King and the rest of the court will be very impressed with it, and you, when you accompany me to the meeting."

Jacob was taken aback. "Wha -- ? You want me to -- ?"

"Yes -- but only after I take you shopping for some new clothes. I'm not introducing you to Oskar Doyle in red suspenders."

[obstinatecondolement]

“[Barbie Fashion Designer] was a bestselling software title in 1996,” said Rachel Simone Weil, video game historian and founder of FEMICOM Museum, which preserves the history of girls’ toys and games, to Polygon. “How amazing that we collectively completely forgot about it, and then it was able to rise back up into the collective consciousness, where it is today.”

Nice to see this article about Barbie Fashion Designer on Kotaku, but also genuinely amazed that apparently "we" forgot all about Barbie Fashion Designer, probably the second best video game I have ever played.

[selkiecoded]

to meee :3 akechi and sumire arent exactly friends throughout january, (they only get really close several years later) but as a side effect of neither having anything better to do and the two constantly haunting kichijoji i think they inevitably fall together more often than not. ren takes sumire out for darts and shes weirdly better than she was last time (sidebar but the fact that sumire and akechi both mimic your throws but sumire sucks shit at darts too much for it to do any good is so cute) and shes like oh yeah akechi-san has been teaching me. oh wow i got a forty! unaware of the way she just blew rens mind.

[ssspringroll]

⭐ it's loving other people oc's time ⭐ show me a pic you love of your oc(s) pretty please! 💜

bless you. bless you. i have been thinking about my boy incessantly for the last few days. i cant wait to see him again

yeah. he usually has his ass out. i dont know why either. he chooses this, not me.

[matchandelure]

realizing that all of the fictional characters i love the most can be sorted into three distinct categories: the one with questionable morals willing to do anything for the person they care for, and the one who’s just there to vibe but has no idea how to be a person because they were never taught how to, and the detective