#etc : fashion

[tigerdragon1001]

Hey everyone look at my fuckign isopod

Thank you have a good day

[nighmoons]

i enjoy how in the percy jackson fandom whenever the demigods are being drawn they are given outfits and accesories that play homage to their godly parent (e.g nico with ghouly tshirt motifs, percy with shell bracelets) when in canon these demigods are wearing an assortment of shirts and pants that they find at the bottom of a bargain bin at target, whatever that has not been destroyed in the recent war or camp shirt.

[ziseviolet]

Since there's quite a lot of interest in Chinese-inspired cyberpunk and adjacent aesthetics, just wanted to share these neat "Chinese style meets the Matrix"-esque looks from popular brand 大青龙肆/Da Qing Long Si. There's also an English website here.

[minhtblue]

VBS Fashion 1/?

[cadaverkeys]

Idk why people think it's funny to buy shit from shien or temu or whatever slavery-corp is popular at the time just to video themselves laughing at the quality of the products. It's badly made because it's unrelentingly shoved through a production line for a few pennies each garment- this isn't fucking "content" and honestly these rich influencers should feel ashamed to openly admit that they're buying from companies that force their workers into slavery conditions.

[autisticaradiamegido]

...can it be cunty in the fun way?

hmmmmm...... yeah okay

day 341

as a treat

[caemidraws]

---

[hanfugallery]

hanfu fashion matched with miao fashion by chinese designers

[midnights-dragon]

can’t stop thinking about him… MY BOY

[wreckedandpolemic]

baby i'm yours - matty healy

(mdni) in which you’ve missed your husband during his long day at work. a white and gold future fic. 1885 words.

warnings: spanking, degradation, praise, unprotected sex, daddy kink, slight dumbification, breeding kink, overstimulation

It’s been a year since you and Matty got married, and six months since you quit your job. It’s been fucking amazing, knowing you don’t have to take care of anyone’s responsibilities or manage anyone’s life but your own. Your family and friends met your decision with raised eyebrows, gentle concern, but you really, truly couldn’t be happier. You practically live for the smile on your husband’s face when you greet him at the door, sometimes with a plate and others wearing nothing but a smile.

For a minute, you lose yourself in a daydream about last night, your legs over Matty’s shoulders, his fingers buried in your cunt and his tongue insistent and sure over your clit. Heat spirals between your legs, the memory of your body’s collapse washing over you in exquisite detail. A harsh clatter of ceramic against metal startles you out of your thoughts, the plate you’d been holding having slipped from your grip in your distraction.

A dark chuckle rings low around you, and, startled, you whip around to find its source. Matty watches you with a smirk, leaning carelessly against the counter. “Hi, baby,” he grins, eyes wide as he drinks in the sight of you dressed only in an apron and white lingerie. “What’s got you so distracted?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, a flush creeping up your cheeks. “Just dropped a plate. Soapy hands, s’all. It happens,” you say, cracks webbing through your thin veil of nonchalance the longer he observes you.

Matty tilts his head a fraction. “How come you didn’t hear me come in?” You bite your lip, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Maybe I wanted to make you wait for it,” you tease, twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

He steps closer, chest rising and falling as his eyes darken. “That’s not very nice, is it, angel?”

The look in his eyes means he’s expecting an answer, the cool, impassive mask of dominance slipping over his face. “No, Daddy,” you say, avoiding his searching gaze.

Another step closer. “That’s right. But I think you’re lying to me, baby. Good girls tell the truth, yeah?”

“Sorry, Daddy,” you say, not looking up as he crowds you, close enough that you can smell cigarette smoke on his breath. “Was thinking about you.” Matty crooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes. “About how you made me feel so good.” You press your body against his, the heat of him soaking against your skin through the thin fabric of your clothes.

“‘S that why you dressed up all pretty, baby? So desperate for me you wanna have my cock as soon as I get home?” He speaks the words against your lips, teasingly close to a kiss. “Drives me fuckin’ crazy, princess. Coming home, seeing my pretty housewife all ready for me. Bet you’re so wet I could just bend you over right now, huh?”

You moan, stretching up towards him and catching him in a kiss, pouring your desire against his mouth as his hands come up to untie the string of your apron. The warmth of his touch races up your spine, anticipation thrumming under your skin. A whine escapes you as he pulls away to lift the apron over your head, letting it crumple on the floor as his head falls to your neck.

Matty kisses over last night’s bruises, smirking against your skin as you whimper softly at the pressure on your sore skin. “You want that, princess? Yeah? C’mon, be a good girl, turn around for me,” he instructs, and you obey unthinkingly, bracing yourself against the counter. “There’s my sweet girl,” he says, fingers brushing over your wetness, understimulating as you try to grind down against him. “Not so fast,” he chides. “You still lied to me tonight, angel. Need to punish you before I give you what you want, okay?” He slides your panties down your legs, letting you step out of them as they fall to the floor and sliding the lace of your dress over your hips.

“Okay, Daddy. You know best.” You lean further forward, baring the smooth, round flesh of your ass to him. A sound that’s somewhere between a cry and a moan tears from your throat and you jolt forward at the first, harsh contact of his hand against your skin.

“Say thank you, baby. ‘M teaching you how to behave. Training up my little housewife, yeah?” Your mind is melting, body turning liquid, letting him mould you into whatever shape he wants.

“Thank you, Daddy. Wanna be perfect for you,” you murmur absently, gasping as he strikes again, twice in quick succession. “Thank you,” you repeat, your world blurring at the edges as you sink deeper into submission, pleasure welling at the base of your spine.

Matty delivers two more hits, blurted gratitude falling from your lips each time. The pain swirls in your veins and clouds your mind, tangling with the ecstasy that beats in your bloodstream. “Good girl. Took it so well, princess.” One of his hands comes up to paw at your tit, pinching your nipple gently through the thin lace.

“Want your cock, Daddy, please,” you whine, grinding back against him, the pressure on your clit barely relieving.

The sound of his belt unlatching, of a zipper sliding, makes your cunt clench with excitement, Matty’s quiet moan as he palms himself sweet in your ear. “So fucking wet, sweetheart. Such a dirty girl, getting soaked from a spanking.” His nails dig into your hips. “My dirty girl.”

“Yours,” you whimper, breaking into a moan as he finally thrusts into you, burying himself in one stroke. “All yours, Daddy.” You roll your hips back against him, clenching your cunt as he fucks you, heat blooming under your skin with every deep thrust.

Matty grips your hips, sharp points of pain digging into your skin, the sensation warming into pleasure that vibrates at the base of your skull. Thought evades you, Matty slamming into you so hard that thought evades you, liquid pleasure dripping over your brain. Uninhibited moans flow freely from your lips and his, the sounds melting with the wet, obscene sounds of sex in a lewd melody you wish you could save and listen to on repeat. “So beautiful like this, angel. Can’t even fucking think, can you? Just wanna be a pretty little hole for me, huh?”

His words wash over you, cunt clenching pathetically around him. “‘M just your toy, Daddy,” you choke out, struggling to pull the words from your hazy, staticky mind. Euphoria coils low in your stomach, hot and tense where you drip against Matty’s cock. You widen your legs in a desperate attempt to urge him deeper, pleasure thick and sticky in your lungs as you gasp for breath.

“Love fucking you like this, baby. That pretty cunt all stretched out around me. Fucking made to take my cock, yeah?” he praises, kissing over your neck, biting bruises into the sensitive flesh. You whine, the mark of his ownership over you stretching warm under your skin. 

His hips never slow, keeping a brutal but measured pace, designed to pull you close to the edge without letting you fall. He holds you there torturously, dangling your orgasm in front of you like Tantalus’ fruit as you moan softly. Ecstasy thrums heavy between your thighs, tension agonisingly close to breaking. “Please, Daddy. Wanna cum,” you whine.

“You think you deserve it?” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, the words curling through you, the implication sending a pulse of dread through you. “You want Daddy to make you cum, angel?”

You whimper, legs weak and trembling, clenching your cunt around him helplessly. “Yes. Been a good girl, Daddy. I want it so bad. Please,” you beg, a broken moan falling from your lips as Matty’s fingers find your clit, pleasure building endless under your skin.

“Made for this, hm? Made to be my girl, take care of my house so I can come home and only care about getting you all cockdrunk and happy, yeah?” He pinches your clit, the sensation spiralling gloriously up your spine. “Go on, darling, cum all over Daddy’s cock,” he orders, one final rough circle over your clit breaking you.

Sparks explode behind your lids, your vision whiting out as your orgasm slams into you, heat soaking into your bones as arousal floods out of you. Matty fucks you through, hips bucking against yours with abandon, wild as he edges closer. Moaning incoherently, you ride out the sensation, taking everything he gives you eagerly.

Coming down from your high, you whine as his hips slow. “Want you to keep going, Daddy. Want you to fill me up,” you moan, turning your head to look up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

He laughs softly, a filthy smirk pulling at his lips. “That right, baby?” he murmurs, pace speeding, your body simply a vessel dragged along for the ride. “Want me to fuckin’ stuff you full, fuck you so hard I put a baby in you?” You moan wantonly, overstimulation driving you wild. “Fuck, can feel how much you want that. Fuckin’ squeezin’ me so tight, darling. ‘M close,” he promises, still in that same, punishing rhythm. With a final groan, he spills inside of you, painting your walls white as he pumps you full.

The sound as he pulls out of you is obscene, your body going limp as it finally relaxes. Then, Matty’s fingers brush over your dripping hole, and it flutters under your touch. You whimper something incoherent, and he croons softly. “Just a little more, if you’re up for it, princess. Need to fuck it back into you, nice and deep so it takes, yeah?”

Your legs turn to jelly, a flood of heat rushing through you. “Please,” you moan, whimpering as the tips of Matty’s fingers stroke over your cunt, gathering up his cum before he presses it back into you. You take him in greedily, the stretch familiarly gorgeous as he thrusts his fingers into you, slow and deep.

“That’s it, baby. Look at you, taking Daddy’s cum like a good girl.” Pleasure builds in your chest, slow-moving as it absorbs you and you let yourself fall into the sensation. “Gonna cum again, darling?” You nod powerlessly, words failing you. “Cum for me, sweet girl,” Matty says, urging instead of ordering, but it works the same. Your cunt throbs around his fingers, the second orgasm less intense, soft bliss washing over you as Matty slips his fingers out of you. You watch, eyes lidded, as he cleans his fingers, sucking the combined taste of you off his fingers with a moan. “You feeling good?” he asks, gently flipping you around to face him, holding you steady as your legs go weak.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you murmur, gazing up at him adoringly.

“Anything for you, angel. C’mere, let me take my wife to bed.” He gathers you in his arms, picking you up bridal style and letting you curl into his chest. No matter how many times you hear it, Matty calling you my wife always brings a smile to your face.

“Love you,” you murmur, gazing sweetly up at him.

“I love you, princess.”

[romansmartini]

computer enhance image. what does that bumper sticker say

[diioonysus]

some vintage fashion through black history

[acearadiamegido]

@homestuckss pinch hit for @topfsecret !!

Reluctant face of the Alternian revolution Karkat is NOT quite used to having an entire security detail yet, and isn't sure why they're all dressed like sci fi adventure movie characters??

to which I would say, if you're gonna be planning an underground revolution against a spacefaring despot why WOULDN'T you dress for the occasion. c'mon.

[felixakranken]

TWF fans have a strange habit of, for lack of a better word, woobifying Mr. Walten.

I think a lot of you seem to take this series a lot less serious than it actually is, and those same people have a very bad habit of making Jack out to be a saint. He's just a normal guy. Just because he loves his family doesn't mean he's some sweet and perfect guy who has no flaws. I never see any of you discuss or portray his anger issues that Martin has mentioned numerous times.

You all blatantly ignore the fact that Sophie's only memories she retained of him were that he was angry and he worked all the time. Just because he loves his family and didn't abuse them doesn't mean he's perfect. To deny him of these flaws take away what a dynamic character he's being written to be.

We know Felix sucks. We all know this because no one shuts up about it. That's his best friend of 20 years, someone he chose to have around his family, and someone he chose to start a business with. Felix's actions don't reflect on Jack, obviously, but you have to think about the fact they are best friends of 2 decades.

The small bit we know about Jack and what things Martin has let on to his personality over time is very different than what everyone makes him out to be, and it's strange. If you choose to ignore that Jack is just a normal middle-aged man in the 70s, that's on your own inability to actually like the character that's there.

[faeryndipity]

Emily Temple Cute Cat's Treat

JSK- Emily Temple Cute

Cardigan- Lil Dipper

Necklace- Angelic Pretty

Beret- Elleni

[medlilove]

Please click for full resolution, k?

Finally managing to upload this after failing yesterday! Here, have some alt outfits for our favourite freak and geek, Eddie Munson. The fact that we only got one in canon is a crime.

Some notes on the details because who’s going to stop me?

These are all post season 4 au everyone lives, thanks for asking.

All the graphic tees are taken from real heavy metal shirts.

The After the Gig one, feel free to make up your own backstory...

Why yes House Party Eddie is looking at Steve, while wearing an Ozzy tee and a (real! I found it online!) Bat belt buckle. I spent way to long on this one. I wanted a full confidence Munson.

Eddie got dragged into going for a walk up the hill with the gang by primarily, Steve, Dustin and (a very convincing, dare you to say no) Nancy. They want to have a bonfire for the Vecna-versary. It was a hike, Eddie did not sign up for a damn hike. At least he wasn’t the last one up the hill (Robin).

The record in Eddie’s bag is the toilet Metallica album from ‘82 (Metal Up Your Ass). It always sold out before Eddie can get down to the city. So when Garath showed up outside Steve’s place 7:38am (after being sent over by a groggy Wayne in the trailer park) who had heard from a friend who had heard from a sister who had heard from her boyfriend that their go to shop in Indianapolis had got 15 new crates of inventory the night before, he grabbed the nearest clothes he could find and jumped in the van. Leaving a bewildered Steve still half asleep in bed. He was in such a good mood that day, he was completely oblivious to how jarring his appearance was.

The logo on his hat is Harley Davidson. It’s a straight copy of an old beanie. I head-canon that he works in a garage that his uncle is familiar with after high school. He seems like he’s good with his hands.

Eddie hates deep winter, how can he perfect his metal head look when it’s all hidden under coats and scarves? The first time Max saw him across the lot, in a giant coat taking out the trash, cigarette in hand, she thoroughly made fun of him. It pissed him off like mad, but deep down he was glad he could put a smile on her face…he supposed.

The badge on his coat is a (real) retro Tolkien one that says: ‘Gandalf for President’.