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fashion-and-hairstyle · 2 years

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4 Best Brands To Buy Short Wigs for Older Women

As we age, it’s only natural for our hair to need that little extra boost when it starts to look dull. And there’s no shame in seeking some help for it!

After all, a community that sticks together is stronger together. And so, this little community is here to help you find the solution to looking youthful again.

Short wigs for older women are a favorite because they add texture, volume, and style to give you healthy-looking hair once again. They are easy to wear and maintain and are worth every penny.

But which brands are the best for short wigs for older women? Follow this helpful guide to get your hands on stunning wigs from the best brands!

Especially Yours®

Curly and short wigs for older women

From classic wig styles to on-trend hair fashion, Especially Yours® has all the wigs in its arsenal to make you feel like the goddess you are.

What really strikes us is that they not only specialize in short wigs for older women, but they also cater to a wide assortment of fashionable, versatile wigs and hairpiece styles and clothing for the fashion-conscious African American woman.

Their wigs are available in many different styles, from bob wigs to layered hair wigs.

They truly understand the needs, tastes, and aesthetics of the female African American population. The quality of their short wigs for older women is top-notch, making this one of our go-to brands for all kinds of fashion needs!

2. Paula Young®

Gorgeous and natural-looking wigs for women

Paula Young® has been the leading brand for short wigs for older women since its inception in 1978. The creators of the brand are committed to providing their clients with the highest quality products.

As such, their customer service is unmatched, with millions of happy and satisfied customers. Paula Young® boasts of having the best all kinds of wigs, whether it is for fun, fashion, convenience, or to compensate for thinning hair or medical hair loss.

At Paula Young®, all their wigs are either made from natural human hair or synthetic fibers. The technological advancements at this brand are such that you can even heat-style synthetic hair! Who would’ve thought this could be possible?

Paula Young® offers stylish, natural-looking, beautiful hair pieces and short wigs for older women who want to look and feel their best for at the lowest prices, making this brand our top choice!

3. Wig.com

Find short wigs for older women from the best brands

With so many brands to choose from, it's easy to get confused. What if we told you that you could get multiple brands all under one roof? With Wig.com, it’s possible!

Wig.com has the largest selection of wig brands and styles for you to choose from. For years, Wig.com has offered stylish beauty wigs and hair pieces at the lowest prices online, 200% guaranteed.

Whether it's short wigs for older women or long wigs for young girls, Wig.com has it all. The variety they have is mind-blowing! With such an array of wigs to choose from, you’re sure to find the one that suits you the best.

4. Divatress

The founders of Divatress believe in beauty through hair. The company is committed to becoming the best hair retailer in the market.

Their short wigs for older women are trendy and stylish. Their aim is to make every one of their customers feel like a goddess!

Catering to African American women, they offer thousands of wigs and hair care products from major brands such as the FreeTress and Vivica A. Fox Collection, Bobbi Boss, Sensationnel, Outre, and more. Your options are endless when it comes to stylish wigs from Divatress!

Final Thoughts

Although there are many brands in the market, we would always put our trust in Paula Young® to be the best source of short wigs for older women.

With decades of experience on their side, they know exactly what women want, and they strive to provide the best every time. Shopping with them is effortless, fun, and, most importantly, value for money!

Looking for more short wigs? Check out the blog Which Short Hair Bangs Will Look The Best On You to find the wig that’s going to become your new best friend!

#short wigs for older women

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jianghushenanigans · 10 months

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If you like Mysterious Lotus Casebook, why not try The Blood of Youth? We have...

Jaded protagonist who has lost all his martial arts and claims to just be a humble member of the jianghu, lying constantly about his prestigious background and the fact he's extremely famous:

(Here he is again but dressed like a woman this time for Plot Reasons):

His new sidekick: a puppy in the form of a teenager with floofy hair. Enjoyer of food, kicker of ass:

The leader of the demon sect who gets constantly nerfed by the narrative because if he was at full power all the time there wouldn't really be much of a plot:

The three of them eating together! Bonding! Bickering!:

Other key characters include:

Woman with chronic illness:

Women getting cool action shots:

This distinctive wig worn by the Purple Guy:

A man, I swear:

One actor who's in one of the tumblr famous cdramas that will make you go 'hey, isn't that that guy from the more tumblr famous cdrama!'

This actor playing a guy in love with an older woman:

These two actors playing Bros:

... hang on this is like half the supporting cast?? well anyway if you enjoying looking at actors and going 'hmmmm i swear i've seen them before' then This is the show for you:

This boat! I'm like 75% its the same boat but its difficult to tell with the lighting:

ANYWAY the acting is great the costumes are great the wigs are great I cried for two days straight please watch the blood of youth

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lighteyed · 10 months

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lovely

spencer reid x reader

[1.9k] you think spencer's lovely.

“What is that?” You extend your hand toward Penelope’s arm as she’s walking past you, tugging her back to stand where you are, your eyes fixed in such a manner that she immediately turns to what your head is tilted toward. You don’t look at her while you say it, your thoughts hazy as your brain begins to short-circuit.

“What is what?” She tries to see what you’re seeing but she doesn’t think she’s looking quite properly, adjusting her glasses as if that’ll paint a clearer picture of your muddled mind. She sees Spencer, at his desk, his own gaze affixed to the papers in front of him, but that’s all she sees in what she can determine as the trajectory of your stare.

You press your mouth into a line and jerk your head toward him, pleading mentally with Penelope to understand what you’re getting at. She doesn’t. She turns back around and looks at you and says, loudly, “All I see is Spencer-“

“For Christ’s sake,” you hiss, covering her mouth with your hand and steering her into her office, the back of your neck hot. You hope to God he hadn’t heard her, too engrossed in his workload to process anything so trivial. You shut the door behind you both with as soft a click as you can manage and peek out the window to make sure his eyes are still on his desk. They are. You take a breath and then place your hands on her shoulders. “Why would say his name so loud?”

“I didn’t know what you were talking about! You were in a daze!” She insists, taking a seat in her chair. She pushes a second one toward you and you accept the offer, placing a hand on your forehead.

“Didn’t you see?” You remain misty-eyed and faraway and Penelope, amused, waves a hand in front of your face.

“See what, my darling?” She gets it now but the older-sisterly affection she feels a twinge of whenever she’s with you wants you to spell it out for her. Everyone on the team has a tendency to tease you, light-hearted, loving, warm teasing, but teasing nonetheless, the new baby of their group.

You gesture in the direction of the bullpen. “He cut his hair.” The way the words fall from your mouth sound wonderfully hopeless and romantic to Penelope’s ears. To yours, you sound pathetic.

“He did,” she nods encouragingly, smiling at you, a laugh threatening to spill out.

“I thought he was really cute before the haircut,” you tell her, turning your eyes up to the ceiling, “but I think I might pass out if I have to stay in a room with him like that. I need him to, like, put on a wig or something, or a hat, before I lose it.” You rub your hand over your face.

“I doubt he’s going to put on a wig,” you place your hands over your eyes, completely and utterly serious, and she really does laugh this time. She’s never seen you malfunction like this. You’re shy, sure, still a bit quiet with the newness of it all, with being the youngest, but you’re sharp, quick, very steady. And it amuses Penelope that it’s Spencer doing it to you. It’s not that he isn’t attractive (Derek calls him pretty boy for a reason), it’s that he’s not really one, so far as Penelope’s seen, to render women incoherent in this way. And you’ve certainly been rendered.

“What if I ask him really nicely?” You lean back in your chair, finding the confines unbearable, unable to make yourself sit still. You flick your gaze toward the door as if he’ll walk in at any second.

“That would require looking him in the eyes,” she says gently.

“That’s out then,” you groan. You twist and find something of Penelope’s to pick up and fiddle with.

“C’mon, it’s Spencer, you should tell him you like him,” she urges. She’s seen the way you look at him, dreamily, almost bursting at the seams with quiet adoration, always listening to him intently to engage in conversation in a way that won’t make you seem completely absurd. When you shake your head, still staring at the toy you’d found safety with, she presses. “He likes you. He does. And if you asked him to wear a wig I think he’d entertain the idea. He’d do anything for you.”

“He does not. He wouldn’t.” You shake your head again and place the toy down.

“Why wouldn’t he? You’re gorgeous, you’re sweet, you’re smart-“

“He’s smarter-“

“He’s smarter than everyone,” she dismisses.

“He’s older,” you continue.

“Not by that much,” she dismisses again. What’s four years, really? Twenty-eight and twenty-four isn’t awful by any means.

“Yeah, but like,” you shift awkwardly. “It might as well be decades. The maturity is different. He probably thinks I’m like a child in comparison. And he’s too smart. He probably thinks I’m dumb-“

“Spencer has never had one bad thought since you came into our lives,” Penelope interrupts, determined. “And don’t stress yourself out. He’s just some guy at the end of the day. And you’re you.”

You know she’s right even if it doesn’t feel like he’s just some guy. Every other guy seemed to pale in comparison. He consistently proved himself to be, besides the obvious genius and maturity, kinder, and gentler, which mattered to you more than most things in a world marred by hatred and unhappiness. You tended to seek that out in men, a softness in the eyes and the words and the touch. Spencer, you’d admit, was never anything but soft with you. You attributed it to the same reason everyone else was, but you wondered if he was, perhaps, even softer. You avoided the thought carefully, always, the desire to keep your hopes and your yearning as abated as possible.

You place your chin in your palm. “You really don’t think he’s ever had a bad thought about me?” Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to think about it a little. “Even when I tripped over his chair coming in and spilled coffee all over his reports?” You’d almost cried about it until his calm hand on the small of your back had given you something more tangible to bind yourself to.

“You realize his chair was only in the way because he was breaking his neck trying to see if you’d come in yet,” Penelope points her pen at you as you shake your head again.

“You’re lying to hype me up!” You lament, taking her accusatory pen out of her hand and placing it down on her desk.

“I would never lie to you!” She gasps. You give her a reproachful look and she amends, “if it wasn’t in your best interest, which, this is, but it’s also not a lie!”

Spencer knocks and enters without waiting for the perfunctory come in, and you find yourself sitting up straighter, smoothing out the wrinkles splayed across your pants as he does so.

“Did I hear my name earlier?” He asks, one hand perched on the doorframe, searching both yours and Penelope’s faces for an answer.

“Hm, I don’t think so,” you say hastily before Penelope can utter anything incriminating, smiling up at him in a way that makes him unable to do anything but smile back.

“Alright,” he touches the back of his neck, trying to think up an excuse to get you to come back to his desk. You’re situated in the one across from him and he, pathetically so, misses you when you stray away for too long. “Do you wanna come look at something for me?” He doesn’t need anyone to look at anything for him ever, so your brows knit together in confusion, and Penelope would roll her eyes at the naiveite if she didn’t find it so sweet.

“Me? But I-“

“Am completely distracting me from my very important work, so it’s best you go with Spencer, sweet pea, so I can actually get things done,” she interrupts, standing up to usher you out without further argument. She can practically feel the heated embarrassment radiating off you as he holds the door open for you to step out of.

At his desk he makes up something for you to look at and hands it to you over the threshold between your two workspaces, but he catches you looking at him more than once and feels the overwhelming sense of insecurity begin to fall in waves around him. He touches his hair awkwardly. He hadn’t thought it looked that bad this morning when he’d styled it differently, he’d cut it just yesterday, too, but he mistook your admiration for aversion and found himself wanting to run to the bathroom and fix it, somehow.

“You think my hair looks weird, too?” He asks, leaning in a bit so he can ask it in a low, insecure tone that no one else will hear. You blink up at him in surprise. Weird was the last way you’d describe the way he looked.

“Weird?” You repeat, the word in conjunction to him unfamiliar in your mouth. He touches it again and you notice his cheeks flush with red.

“Hotch made fun of me. Said I look like I’m in a boyband. I won’t wear it like this again, I promise,” he punctuates the words with a laugh that doesn’t register to you as genuine.

“No!” You practically jump out of your chair to say it, your hands flying up to meet the wood of the desk, overeager. You retreat into yourself again to say, quieter, “you look nice, don’t worry about Hotch. I-I think your hair looks…” you pause, albeit briefly, to consider if it’s what you really want to say, “I think you look lovely, Spence, don’t worry.” You don’t look at him when you say it to supplement the fact that you’re saying it at all, focused on the work in front of you.

“Lovely?” He tries to think of the last time he found himself speechless and he comes up blank. He stares at you with those big eyes of his, pleading that you look up.

You do. His heart twitches at the contact. “Yes, lovely,” you murmur your confirmation, your attempt to avoid eye contact futile as he holds your gaze steadily.

“I always think you look lovely,” he confesses, and just like everything else with him, it’s as gentle as he can manage, detecting your nerves, trying to convey that you never have to be around him.

You pause again, your chest constricting. “Always?”

“Always,” he nods, licking his lips, pushing down his own nerves because he knows he needs to be the brave one here. If he doesn’t make the move you might spend the rest of your time here tiptoeing around each other, love swelled up in your stomachs like balloons fit to burst, words to bring meaning to it dying on your lips. He looks around briefly to determine if anyone around is listening, and he catches them all milling about, away from your desks, allowing him to take a deep breath. “I, um, I was wondering, if maybe you’d want to go on a date with me.” He drums his fingertips on his thigh and waits.

You practically die as he says it, a weight off your shoulders you hadn’t understood you were carrying. “Yes, yes, I would love that.”

“Really?” He looks up and grins, halfway disbelieving, reveling in your beauty, and you nod yes again. Yes, yes, always.

#self-indulgent and random as a motherfucker please bare with me i'm UNWELL #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction

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creatingblackcharacters · 8 days

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Ice's Favorite Black Characters, #3:

Charlotte, from Queen Charlotte

Okay so first: I have zero intention of watching the rest of Bridgerton. It doesn't appeal to me. But every time a clip shows up, if I see my girl I'm like "ooooh what my girl Charlotte wearing today??" Bc she be DRESSING.

I cannot tell y'all how much I love this woman. First of all, the casting was superior. And I'm sure y'all have noticed by now, but I am a huge fan of costuming that actually works with Black characters, especially in a period piece. There's shoving us into these outfits with bad wigs meant to forcibly and uncomfortably assimilate us, and then there's STYLING your Black characters! Her AFRO and afro extensions are in full force in the left pic!! Her look as an older woman looks like the way my granny would curl her hair, pinned into an extravagant wig!! It looks like their Black hair!!! (HBO should be a fucking shamed)

Okay. Onto her personality. I'll be honest, Charlotte reminds me of me. Charlotte is blunt, and I love that. She said what she said, and that's that. No bullshit. She's not a sweetheart, at all. Society doesn't like Black women that are direct, let alone when they're in power. I feel like if she were a man, we'd be saying she was an "autistic icon" for her bluntness, and her issues with occasional empathy ("sorrows, prayers") Alas, Black women don't get to be autistic, we get to be "bitches".

She shows her naivete and ignorance often, but she's not stupid- when she senses something is off, she calls it out. Period. She's also very loving! But she's not... Affectionate, in a way that most people would deem affection. but it is clear that she loves the people she loves, and holds them dear to her. Lady Danbury wouldn't be her right hand (and Brimsley her left) if Charlotte didn't want and value her there.

Not to mention, she's very passionate, especially about her man. You don't drop a line like "I care not for his sanity! I care for his happiness, I care for his soul." And not be passionate. But that's also one of her flaws! Charlotte is so caught up in the mission impressed upon her and George, that she loses sight of her own children's happiness. She's not the greatest of mothers, and it's clear it's bc she's prioritized her own mission (babies, continue the great experiment, keep George okay) onto the next generation. Meanwhile, she herself was just as awkward and naive and unsure when SHE showed up to court. Also, "virgins to the left of me, whores to the right" was a wild comment to make lmao. Read the hell out of them damn kids 🤣 she wasn't right but she was right.

Lastly, I love seeing a Black woman loved and adored. George LOVES her, to the point he's willing to go through literal torture to be the man he thinks she wants. I wanna see that. I wanna see us being loved on that intensely. And she loves him just as much.

So yeah. Queen Charlotte was amazing to watch as a Black girl who likes pretty dresses, isn't a sweetheart, and wants to be loved unconditionally. 🤌🏾🔥💕

#september challenge #post your favorite black characters!#creatingblackcharacters #black characters

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wraithdance · 1 month

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The Five Year Plan | Gaz x Reader

Synopsis: When your fiancé breaks up with you, you start to question your timeline; who needs a man when you can have a baby yourself? Who better to ask for help on creating one than your arch-nemesis Kyle Garrick?

Note: F!Reader, Fat/Plus sized Reader, Reader is implied to be Black but can be read as WoC Content warning: babies, toxic aunties, some comments that can be taken as fatphobic, food restriction mentions, allusions to postpartum depression, arranged marriages mention (not reader related), age gap mentions (not reader related), no mature content, this is a prologue and reader will be a minor, you can skip this and wait for the first part if it's not your thing, it won't impact your reading <3

Part one: The Checklist

Babies were... odd. You frown around the cake stuffed in your cheeks, taking in the little human who's apparently your new cousin.

The tiny bundle of wrinkles is emitting the loudest shrieks known to man and smells absolutely awful.

Stranger still is the circle of clucking adults surrounding said bundle. They are keen to ignore the child's obvious distress and coo-ing some mashup of baby talk and moans in sequence. Really, it's what you can only call synchronized possession.

You'd seen it happen at church once. A few women from the congregation had fallen over each other during the pastor's sermon, speaking in tongues. Your friend Blue and you had cackled uncontrollably when Mrs. Abrams swung her wig around in a circle. Your mother had been absolutely livid and banned you from attending with Blue anymore. But you hadn't minded because Blue's mother had wanted her to attend mosque anyways.

You take another bite of the cake and meet eyes with your mother at the center of the hub bub. She's giving you a pinched expression, one you're very familiar with.

'No more sweets' she mouths pointing for you to put your saucer down. You roll your eyes and stuff the remaining portion down in rebellion, much to her ire. You’d hear about it later but for now she’s holding court as the head baby whisperer and you’re free to do as you please.

Having enough of the chatter you hop down from your seat on the chaise lounge and deign yourself to wander about your uncle's house. Sometimes being the only child in the family was fun. It meant Christmas and birthdays were all about you and you always got your own room. You'd visited Blue once with her six brothers and sisters and nearly had a conniption. Poor girl would never have a moment of peace.

Other times being the only child is suffocating. You can never really get away with hearing a lecture from the old people the second you make a mistake.

'Why are your grades like that?'

'Nice girls don't sit like that, cross your legs.'

'You're getting round around the middle, you know, how will you find a husband when you're older?'

You snorted at that one. You were twelve, who thought about a husband at this age?

Hopefully you didn't have to wait for your cousin to get older to get some slack.

You're taking a peak at the boiling pot of rice and stew on the stove when you hear sniffles. Strangely, they're coming from the laundry in the hallway. You replace the lid and carefully set the big spoon back atop in the position it'd been in previously. Your mother was like a hawk and oddly hyper perceptive about her food. She'd notice the slightest difference in the way she'd left things and immediately assume you were the culprit.

You tiptoe around the corner to make sure the adults were still preoccupied with the baby before shuffling to the laundry door. You can't see anything in the cracks but you can definitely hear the sound of muffled crying. Carefully you slide the doors on the track allowing some of the light in the kitchen to shine though. Your Aunt snaps her head to the opening with wide eyes. Her hair is haggard and she’s seated on the floor surrounded by piles of clothes.

Right... probably odder than the baby.

She looks at you and you at her. She seems to realize you are alone and makes a sound. Quick as a whip she's grabbing your wrist and yanking you inside the room with her. With a snap the door is closed behind you. It takes a moment to adjust to the low lighting and when you do you take in the downtrodden woman. She's not related to you by blood, she'd married your mothers older brother nearly a year ago. You'd been allowed to attend the wedding and had been a little caught off guard by how sad she'd seemed.

She'd barely looked up when the officiant had her and your uncle recite their vows. You'd looked around the room, curious that you were the only one even remotely concerned.

You'd asked your mother about it on the way home. She'd said that your new aunt was from the old country and had moved alone to Britain for the arranged marriage. That had lead to more questions. You couldn't fathom the thought of marrying a stranger, much less someone as ancient as your Uncle. He had to be a lot older than your father and you had said so to your mother. She'd gotten upset and told you to be quiet, refusing to tell you how old your new aunt was in comparison.

With that in mind you settle on the floor near the other woman. She's still crying softly, not bothering to wipe the tears as they fall to her stained t-shirt. You reach your hand out to rub hers in what you hope is comfort. It's what your father did for you when you've got the flu or you'd just made yourself sick on candies. Your fingers trace the umber henna designs on her wrists and you think she finds comfort in it as her cries lessen eventually.

"How old are you auntie?" you whisper.

She looks confused and shakes her head not understanding. You hadn't considered there would be a language barrier, but you suppose that makes sense she'd never responded to your chattering the rare times your uncle let you visit. Racking your mind you remember the passing comment your mother had made about your new auntie having worked as an au pair in France previously. So you ask again this time pointing to yourself and showing her ten fingers then two just in case your dialect was off. She understands and responds with two fingers and then two more.

You blanch and she laughs.

Ten years older than you with a newborn baby at that. It was unfathomable to you. In ten years you want to be wearing really nice pants suits like Olivia Pope (the rare times mother let you watch Scandal with her you'd sighed in absolute envy, oh to have a cape!) and eating all the sweets you want.

You frowned remembering that your cousin was still being held hostage in the sitting room. You ask her about it and the smile she wore fell just as quickly as it came.

So you weren't the only one not totally elated about the new member of the family. It does confuse you a bit.

You thought mums were supposed to be happy about babies. Your own keeps droning on and on about how many grandchildren she expects to have.

(Which is strange considering you haven't even been in snogging distance of a singular human boy in your life.)

You stand up and dust off your knees. Your auntie looks sad, then confused when you extend a hand to help her up. You absolutely refuse to go back out there alone and she would be your comrade against the baby fever. You're happy she follows your lead into the sitting room.

The other women immediately stop fussing over the baby to shout praises and 'There you are's.' Your auntie stiffens and tightens her hands around yours. You think you're both equally taken by surprise at the reception considering family holidays are usually spent with you and auntie being ignored during the goings on. You'd figured she'd just been shy like Blue sometimes was but you consider that the older women left her out on purpose.

You look at her seeing her tired, sad eyes and drooped shoulders in a new light. The older women fuss over her and tug at her stained clothes and tangled hair. When Auntie tries to reach for the baby your mother pulls back with a laugh, telling her to go change first. She still doesn't return the baby when auntie does just that. It makes you mad and you tell your mother she's being rude. She hushed you nervously looking at the other women who make pursed lips at your audacity and cut their eyes.

For the rest of the night Auntie sits in the circle of women as they cluck. Then eventually across from you at dinner with her hands tight in her lap. You feel sorry for her and when you can you sneak her pieces of cake across the table.

It's the only time her eyes light up.

You thought being an only child was awful with all its attention. But it couldn't be worse than being invisible in a foreign land with people who only greet you when you finally have a baby.

Before you leave with your mother, Auntie stops you. She pats your chubby cheeks and smiles at your look of confusion when she slips one of her gold bangles onto your arm. It's too big even with your extra fluff, but it's beautiful and intricate. She leans to give you a kiss and she smells like baby formula and spices. You thank her with a tight hug, hoping you could channel love and well wishes right into her for strength.

Your mother was too pumped up about the new addition to the family to lay into you about your many blunders on the drive home. She rains praise on Auntie bringing in such a beautiful baby and how many you think your uncle will want.

After everything you witnessed with auntie you're conflicted. You knew your mother had a checklist of things she wanted for your life and marriage and a baby were one of them. You can’t help but wonder if growing up and having a child is the only way to get positive attention from your family.

If that was the case you don’t know if you want one at all.

Masterlist | Next >>

#tw: fatphobia #tw: postpartum depression #kyle gaz garrick #5 year plan #wraith writes #baby face

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thelibraryghost · 5 months

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A Young Person's Guide to 18th-Century Western Fashion

unabridged version at blogspot

General info Cox, Abby. "I Wore 18th-Century Clothing *Every Day for 5 YEARS & This Is What I Learned (Corsets Aren't Bad!)." YouTube. May 10, 2020. Cullen, Oriole. “Eighteenth-Century European Dress.” In Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2004. Glasscock, Jessica. "Eighteenth-Century Silhouette and Support." In Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2004. Accessories Banner, Bernadette. "Women's Pockets Weren't Always a Complete Disgrace | A Brief History: England, 15th c - 21st c." YouTube. April 10, 2021. Colonial Williamsburg. "#TradesTuesday: Men's Accessories." YouTube. June 13, 2021. Murden, Sarah. "The Georgian era fashion for straw hats." All Things Georgian. December 6, 2018. Cosmetics & hygiene Cox, Abby. "I Followed an 18th-Century Moisturizer & Sunscreen Recipe & it kinda worked??." YouTube. February 21, 2021. Cox, Abby. "We tried making *5* different 250 year old rouge (blush) recipes || [real] regencycore makeup." YouTube. August 29, 2021. JYF Museums. "Hygiene in the 18th Century | From the Farm to the Army." YouTube. August 21, 2021. Décor Heckscher, Morrison H. “American Rococo.” In Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2003. Munger, Jeffrey. “French Porcelain in the Eighteenth Century.” In Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2003. Formal wear SnappyDragon. "This dressing gown changed fashion forever : the feminist history of going out in loungewear." YouTube. April 15, 2022. Stowell, Lauren. "The Many Types of 18th Century Gowns." American Duchess. March 15, 2013. Zebrowska, Karolina. "Cottagecore Style Is Much Older Than You Think." YouTube. June 30, 2021. Hair care Cox, Abby. "I made 250-year-old Hair Products Using Original Recipes (and animal fat...)." YouTube. November 7, 2021. Cox, Abby. "I tried a 300-year-old hair care routine for a year & this is what I learned (it's awesome!)." YouTube. January 23, 2022. Cox, Abby. "What's the Deal with 18th Century Wigs? (and why Bridgerton really messed this up)." YouTube. June 1, 2023. Laundry Cox, Abby. "Making 300 Year Old SLIME for Laundry Day." YouTube. June 15, 2023. Townsends. "Historical Laundry Part 2: No Washing Machine, No Dryer, Hit It With A Stick?" YouTube. June 3, 2019. Outer- & working-wear JYF Museum. "Getting Dressed | Clothing for an 18th Century Middling Woman." YouTube. March 18, 2021. Major, Joanne. "The practicalities of wearing riding habits, and riding ‘en cavalier’." All Things Georgian. March 12, 2019. Rudolph, Nicole. "What did Pirates ACTUALLY Wear? Fashion at Sea in the 18th c & Our Flag Means Death Costumes." YouTube. May 8, 2022. Shoes Chin, Cynthia E. "Martha Washington's Shoes." George Washington's Mount Vernon. No date. Murden, Sarah. "18th-century shoes." All Things Georgian. December 15, 2015. Rudolph, Nicole. "Real 18th century Shoes? Historical Shoemaker Examines an Antique." YouTube. December 13, 2020. Textiles Cox, Abby. "18th Century Printed Cotton Do's & Don't's." American Duchess. December 23, 2019. Stowell, Lauren. "Fabrics for the 18th Century and Beyond." American Duchess. June 14, 2021. Townsends. "Oil Cloth - Waterproof Coverings for Your Campsite." YouTube. July 30, 2018. Undergarments Major, Joanne. "Quilted Petticoats: worn by all women and useful in more ways than one." All Things Georgian. November 20, 2018. Rudolph, Nicole. "Making 18th century Stays for the Ideal Body Shape : Historical Undergarments." YouTube. August 12, 2023. SnappyDragon. "RUMP ROAST : Ranking historical fashion's wildest fake butt pads." YouTube. October 27, 2023. Townsends. "Sewing Histories' Most Popular Garment - The Fabric Of History - Townsends." YouTube. September 3, 2022.

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wigsandstyles · 24 days

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Can Gray Wigs Look Natural?

Absolutely! With the right style and shade, gray wigs can look incredibly natural. Whether aiming for a sleek, modern look or embracing a soft, blended tone, today's gray wigs offer versatility and a realistic appearance, enhancing your overall style.

#wigs #hair wigs #gray wigs #wigs for older women

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oneforthemunny · 1 year

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can't hurry love |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: a little blurb about older!dilf!eddie and reader adjusting to life as parents, which includes learning to have quickies where they can.

contains: domestic fluff. age gap relationship. reader is thirty-three, eddie is forty-nine. dad!eddie x mom!reader. fluff and smut. minors DNI 18+. quickie p in v sex.

Eddie was sure if he heard 'Let It Go' one more time he was going to scream, rip his hair out and shove it into his ears so he didn't have to hear the song ever again. He thought Strawberry Shortcake was bad, but it was nothing compared to this- a new level of hell that Delilah insisted on playing on a loop over and over and over. He figured it was probably because of her new Elsa dress, a costume blue replica of the character's that came with all the accessories- including a very tangled and tattered wig that you were "fixing". He had Wayne to thank for that, the old man could never say no to either of his grand babies.

Eddie was going to make sure he put the idea in Lilah's head to make Poppa watch the sing-along version the next time he dropped her off, give him a taste of his own medicine; but he knew deep down Wayne wouldn't mind.

"Delilah," You called carefully, padding into the living room with a basket full of her clothes on your hip, ready to be washed from the week before. "I think it's time for us to go lay down."

Eddie cringed, the soft whimper of shock, rounding eyes and a pout that made his heart lurch in his chest, followed by the expectant whine, loud and shrill. "Noooo..." Delilah stomped her foot. "No, Mama, we're not done with the movie!"

You looked at Eddie, lips pursed. You knew he'd cave if she begged too much, and you wanted to stop it before it started. "Delilah," You warned lifting a brow. "You gotta have a nap, baby. You'll be so mean and cranky if you don't."

"Daddy, tell her no." Delilah whined, climbing into Eddie's lap, curling into his chest. Your lips twitched, biting back a smile. You wanted to be irritated, but you couldn't. Three years old and already knew exactly how to play Eddie so he'd bend to her every whim. You wished you were surprised, but between you and Brielle, she was bound to learn the ways of the women around her.

Eddie's eyes softened, cradling her head into his chest, stroking her soft curls. He looked up at you pleadingly. "Just a few more minutes," He said, face melting. He looked down, Delilah's tiny fist rubbing her eyes as she fought back a yawn, easing into his chest and relaxing under his touch.

You tsked, lifting a brow at him. "Eddie, we talked about this." You warned quietly. You had been trying for weeks to get Delilah to go to sleep on her own, starting to ween her out of long snuggles and holding her until she fell asleep. She would start school in only a few years, and didn't need to be coddled like that and make it worse on herself.

Eddie had been less than thrilled. He loved nothing more than cuddling with his baby before she went to bed, reading her a story, his readers perched on his nose doing animated voices that riled her up more than soothed her. Often, especially if he was working at the shop late, it was the only time he got with her. He was so pouty when you talked to him about it the first time, petulant with huffy grumbles and protest, but he knew you were right.

"Just give us a few minutes, please?" Eddie's face contorted into a small smile. "The troll songs about to come on, then we'll go nap after that. Right, Pickles?"

Delilah giggled, half her face still resting on her dad's chest, her eyes still trained on the movie. You narrowed your eyes at him. "Fine, I'll go start this load and then you're going to take a nap, missy." You pointed at Delilah, who huffed and whined. Eddie's gruff, soothing voice peppering words and kisses into her hairline.

You dumped the clothes in, bending over to see a pair of your panties had dropped between the washer and dryer. You shimmied your hand down to snatch the clothing piece, blushing and rolling your lip between your teeth when you held it in front of you. It was a lacy black pair, part of a set you bought for Eddie's birthday, that you must've dropped, seeing as it was still covered in your release and his, dried and crusted on the black fabric.

Your legs squeezed together at the memory. You'd taken Eddie to the bar, meeting all his friends for his birthday, even bringing a cake to share at the small booth you rented out, everyone drunkenly serenading the birthday boy. The real surprise was when you got home. Madeline had offered to watch Delilah for the night, ecstatic to see her niece and spend time with her, so you had the house to just the two of you. As soon as you'd shown Eddie the lingerie set, he'd bent you over the arm of the couch, pounding into you relentlessly, not even bothering to take the panties off.

That had been over two weeks ago.

The shift from fucking each other anytime you wanted to with no worries, to having to sneak and worry about being interrupted by the baby monitor or tiny feet padding to your room was a hard adjustment for both of you. Even for Eddie, who had done it once before, it was still hard.

You poured the detergent in, tossing your panties in the wash, before starting the machine. You placed the basket on top, lips twisting in thought before walking back into the living room.

Delilah was heavy lidded, curled into Eddie's chest nearly half asleep when you stepped in front of the TV, hands on your hips. "Nap time, sweet girl." You cooed, turning off the television.

Delilah cried, angry and irritated, burying her face in Eddie's chest. "No, Mama, no!" She wailed, clinging to Eddie tightly. "Tell her no, Daddy!"

"I don't think that will matter, baby cakes." Eddie snorted lightly, running a hand down her back. "You know Mama's the boss lady around here. You better listen to her."

You bit back a grin, shaking your head at him. "Lilah, let's go. C'mon, Mama will go tuck you in."

Delilah cried, fat, crocodile tears streamed down her little red face. You knew it was probably from exhaustion more than anything else. She always got so cranky after lunch. "I not tired!" Delilah lisped, her 'r' sounding more like a 'w', and it made Eddie's heart swell, holding her closer to his chest, pressing his cheek against her head sweetly.

"Here, baby, I'll come lay with you ok? Just until you go to sleep, and then when you wake up we can play with your toys some more, ok?" Eddie cooed sweetly, avoiding your hard gaze.

"No," You said, shaking your head. "I'll go put her down, and I need your help in the bedroom, please." You eyed him carefully.

Eddie's brows knitted in confusion, twisting with a questioning look. You blinked, eyes flickering to your room down the hall. "Just go wait for me, please." You grit though your teeth. "I've got a really bad itch and I need you to scratch it, please."

Eddie's eyes flashed in confusion before widening, bulging in realization. The euphemism wasn't great by a long shot, you were trying to talk in code in front of your toddler, who was more interested in crying and screaming than whatever you two were discussing. Eddie blushed, mouth running dry. He pressed a quick kiss to Delilah's cheek, muttering a small promise that soothed her a bit before her nap, then handing her off to you.

You looked at him over the top of Delilah's curls, nodding down the hall before going into her room.

Delilah went down fairly easy, too exhausted from the constant running and excitement of the day to whine and protest too long. You'd tucked her in before sitting outside her door to make sure she stayed in her bed, listening until her little cries turned into sniffles then silence, the noise machine drowning out her little snores. You peeked in the room, illuminated by the soft glow of the night light and the sun peeking through the drawn curtains, before tip toeing down the hall to yours and Eddie's room.

Eddie perked up when you walked in, eyes lighting up when you shut the door behind you. "Did you get her down?" Eddie asked eagerly, standing up.

You nodded, shimmying out of your sweatpants and pulling your shirt over your head. "Yes," You muttered, feeling his eyes gawk at your bare body. You didn't wait for whatever lewd and suggestive comment was on his tongue, pressing yourself against him, your lips catching his, tugging him in deeper and deeper into you.

Eddie's hands found the small of your back, calloused skin skating down towards your ass, cupping and squeezing the fat of it until you moaned into his mouth. He dropped lower, hands tucking between your legs, swiping through your wet folds. You could feel him smirk into your mouth.

"Dirty girl," He tsked, pulling his shining fingers out with a dimpled grin. "What's gotten into you, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, huffing and reaching for the band of his sweatpants. You could see his growing erection already tenting the soft fabric, rolling your hand over his cock, squeezing it lightly before shoving his pants roughly to the ground.

"Shut up." You muttered with an eye roll, feeling his arrogant grin on you, mouth watering at the sight of his cock, thick and veiny, practically touching your nose. You wanted to bury your face in his groin, smother his dick with wet kisses, that's how much you missed it.

You pumped him a few times, silken skin soft in your hands. Eddie groaned, tipping his head back and you huffed. "Be quiet, you'll wake her up." You pouted, swiping your tongue over his tip.

"Then don't do that-fuck." Eddie groaned, hands finding your hair, gripping it lightly. You swallowed him easily down your throat, hands gripping his hair thighs to steady yourself, bobbing up and down on his shaft. "Shit, bunny, that-that's so good, but I need to be inside you."

You pulled off him with a small pop, eyes lifting to his in amusement. You wiped the back of your mouth with your wrist, his hands guiding you to stand up. "Never thought I'd here you say that." You smirked.

Eddie snorted with an eye roll. He smacked your ass playfully, hard enough to have you yelp and squeal, thighs rubbing together for friction. "Just get on the bed." He muttered. "Let me scratch that itch." He grinned.

You blushed, turning and climbing onto the bed, crawling into a table top position. "What? I didn't know what to say." You laughed with a small shrug, bending your front half to sink onto the mattress.

Craning your head to look over your shoulder, Eddie smirked, eyes rolling over your body, your presented ass and glistening pussy, ready and needy for him. You wiggled your hips, ass jiggling in front of him.

"C'mon, hurry up, before she wakes up and interrupts us, again." You groaned, watching him pump his length before situating himself behind you. "Gotta be quick."

Eddie exhaled slowly out his nose, smirking and rolling his tongue over his bottom lip. "I gotcha, bunny, I know." He grinned. "I'll get ya there, just slow down." He swiped his fingered over your folds, pushing his pointer finger into your sopping hole. You shoved your face into the mattress, muffling your loud, desperate moan that tore from your chest.

Eddie moved, positioning himself behind you. "Ready?" He asked, and you nodded. Eddie pushed in slowly, cock splitting you open, the burn from the stretch of his length against your walls made you whine, simmering out with the familiar mind numbing pleasure that always left you complacent and dizzy.

Eddie groaned lowly when he bottomed out, hunching over so his bare chest was pressed to your back. "Holy fucking shit, bunny." He ground his hips against the meat of your ass. "Been too fuckin' long, baby. Way too fuckin' long."

You moaned when he pulled out, hips snapping against yours, a rhythm building and pleasure pooling deep in your belly. You knew you'd be cumming in no time, the overwhelming pleasure mixed with the fact that you hadn't had him in so long, your legs were already beginning to shake, abdomen clenching and fists grappling at the sheets.

Eddie huffed, hot breath on your bare shoulder blades, pressing sloppy, wet, open mouthed kisses to your hot skin, nuzzling the scruff of his beard into you. "God, fuck, 'm not gonna last long." He warned, hand snaking between you, fingers expertly finding your clit, rubbing tight circles that had you crying out.

"Should be a fuckin' crime to not fuck you for as long as I did, shit." Eddie hissed. "A pussy this sweet? And I've gone too long without it, haven't I?" Eddie cooed into your ear, a little taunting and mean. Your legs clenched around his hand. "You've just been a little pent up, haven't you, bunny? So needy for me, and I didn't even know, huh?"

"Fuck," You whimpered, tears pricking your eyes. His hand on your clit pressed down harder, cock jabbing your g-spot so hard you were sure you'd be spilling over him in no time. "Too long, 's too long." You babbled.

Eddie felt his stomach clench, cock twitching deep inside your velvety walls. His hands gripped harder on your hips, thrusting deeper and harder, sloppy and sharp thrusts that took your breath away. "Fuck, baby, I'm gonna-" Eddie's fingers worked faster on your clit, jaw clenching when he rocked harder into you, bed squeaking, mattress springs creaking with every harsh snap of his hips.

You whimpered, the pleasure building so closely you could feel yourself tipping closer and closer towards the edge of ecstasy. Eddie could feel you clenching, his hand still working on your puffy, sensitive clit, thrusting harder, while his other cracked down on the side of your ass, a resounding smack that left you crying out- a bit too loudly- a final thrust sending you reeling falling into the mattress with a fucked out cry.

"Thank fuck-ugh!" Eddie groaned, his own cock spilling deep inside you. He moved slow, pushing farther and farther into you until you'd collected every drop of him. His head fell forward, curly tendrils tickling your back, his hot breath ghosting over your skin.

You could feel him, warm inside of you, filled with every drop of his rather large load. Eddie rested his cheek, stubble skin pressed to the skin of your back, eyes closed and breathing in your scent, calming and grounding while he caught his breath.

You grinned, eyes fluttering at the feeling of him, his weight on top of you, still buried deep inside of you. The house filled with an odd moment of silence, the ceiling fan above you spinning was the only sound other than the labored breaths of you and Eddie. If you listened closely, you could hear the very faint sound of Delilah's sound machine, muffled to a small buzz down the hall.

Eddie moved his hand, tucking it so it cupped your cheek sweetly, tilting to bring you closer to him. He didn't say anything, slotting his lips over yours in a tender, sweet kiss, full of love and passion, like after a date night and a few glasses of wine. You smiled, his forehead against yours as you moved closer to him, content and basking in his embrace. He left you warm from the inside out, bubbly and happy, full of joy that he was yours; that this was your life together, a life you created that was far sweeter than anything you could've ever imagined- even if it started out a little unconventional.

The chirping sound of the washer singing and ringing rang through the house, signaling the the wash cycle was done. You sighed slowly, eyes meeting Eddie's through a glassy gaze. "I think I better go switch them over." You muttered, your lips brushing his, nose touching. "And you better go smoke now if you want to, before she wakes up."

Eddie sighed heavily, lips brushing against yours in a gentle peck, before he pushed himself up, groaning and the creaks and clicks of his joints and bones. "Agh," He hissed, pulling out of you slowly, his release falling in a puddle underneath you.

"Ed," You huffed, lifting your ass up farther to try and keep anymore from spilling. "Now I have to wash that too."

Eddie smirked, grabbing a wash cloth out of the bathroom and wetting it before coming back. "Sorry, baby." He muttered, wiping you slowly. You shifted, rolling over onto your back while he finished cleaning you, sucking in a breath at the sensitivity between your legs.

Eddie settled himself back between your legs, rubbing against your ass suggestively. "Think she'd stay down for another round?" He asked, scanning your naked chest.

You scoffed, pushing him back lightly by his sternum. "Please, we better not test our luck." You rolled your eyes, sitting up, legs hanging over the side of the bed.

You stood, bending down to shimmy back on your discarded sweatpants. You could feel Eddie's blistering gaze on your ass. "Besides," You smirked, biting back a smirk. "You couldn't get it up for a second round, geezer." You teased.

Eddie's jaw ticked, scoffing challengingly, arms crossing over his inked chest. You laughed, putting on your shirt with a small blush. "Alright," Eddie's tongue rolled on the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowing lightly at you. "I'll remember that, baby."

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck, lifting on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "'M just kidding." You giggled, batting your eyes lovingly at him.

Eddie's hands snaked down, cracking against your sweatpants clad ass before gripping your waist tightly. "You wait until tonight, bunny. We'll see how many rounds I can go." He growled threateningly, but his eyes twinkled playfully, lustfully and alluring.

You broke apart, gathering the blanket from the bed in your arms while Eddie got dressed. He caught your waist when you passed him, arms full of the blanket, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, your head tipping back and reeling under his touch.

"Love you," Eddie muttered, kissing the tip of your nose. He fumbled in his top drawer for a cigarette and his lighter, winking at you when you dreamily repeated the phrase back to him, feeling airy and gooey, like a school girl with a second period crush. He still made you feel so important, so loved and adored.

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miraculan-draws · 18 days

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So in the BOOK, Lestat ran away to Paris with Nicki as a very young man, I think 20-ish? They lived like romantic penniless artists, busked for their meals, and Lestat performed under a non de plume. Tensions were rising politically but had not yet come to a head. News of the revolution and the death of his family does not come until a few years later, long after he's a vampire and after leaving France.

In the SHOW, of course Sam is one of the beautiful men I've ever seen, but he can't pass as 20. They'll have to age him up. Originally, I assumed they'd do this by setting his date of birth BACK further, but after a few rewatches I think they'll do what they've done flawlessly this far: they'll just push the current year ahead a bit.

So, after reading TVL I can point out that most everything said by Armand in 2x3 is a blatant lie made of putting the true story in a blender, but that's not what I wanna focus on—I wanna talk about the clothing. Especially in the crowd.

Only MOST of the men are wearing wigs. A lot of 18th century big styles on women are still very present, BUT are lacking the tell-tale gray wash of pomade/powder combo. Some of the younger women are wearing their hair dark and much closer to the scalp.

The older women are wearing the typical square-necked quarter-sleeved ball gowns we associate with the 18th century, but if you look closely, a lot of the younger women are wearing empire waist dresses more commonly associated with the "regency" era.

THE REAL TATTLE TALE!! is the NECKLACES.

A TON OF THE WOMEN are wearing red beads/red chokers. These were trendy amongst cheeky if not grim-humored debutante women AFTER the revolution, as a nod to all the beheadings.

SO! it seems that instead of immediately pre-revolution Paris, we will probably get to see immediately-post, if not smack dab in the middle of the French Revolution. It wouldn't shock me if they make THAT the reason Lestat uses a false surname as an actor. Honestly I could see them making the revolution the reason he had to leave Auvergne in the first place.

#tvl spoilers #lestat de lioncourt #the vampire lestat #sam reid #interview with the vampire #iwtv

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coochiequeens · 1 year

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Another sex offender TIM released into the public.........and given a laptop

Daughter's fury as paedophile father who abused and shared images of her with other sick perverts online before changing gender in prison is quietly released (...and given a laptop by an offender's charity)

By ROSS SLATER

PUBLISHED: 10:47 EDT, 16 July 2023 | UPDATED: 10:49 EDT, 16 July 2023

A paedophile who changed gender while in prison for sexually abusing her own daughter as a child and sending explicit photos of her to perverts online has been quietly released back into the community - and given a laptop by a do-gooding charity.

Claire Fox, 61, who was previously known as Clive Bundy, a father of six, served just seven years of a 15-year jail sentence, before being settled into a tiny market town on the Welsh borders.

Fox, who wears a black wig and floral dresses told neighbours, who knew nothing of her sordid past, that she was an electrician from Bangor as they helped her get settled into her new surroundings and helped her furnish her flat.

Fox's release from prison has appalled her daughter Ceri-Lee Galvin, who bravely waived her right to anonymity, having been abused by her father for nine years from the age of eight.

Revealing her astonishment, Ceri-Lee, 24, told MailOnline: 'My father is not a woman and I refuse to recognise him as such. He changed his gender in prison to make his life there easier.

But now he is out and already up to his usual tricks – conning everyone he meets.

'The fact he is now dressed as a woman makes him more dangerous as young girls are his thing and he has never shown any remorse.

'My father is a highly manipulative man who has attended no sexual offender rehabilitation programmes, shown no remorse for what he has done and openly admits finding children attractive.

'There have been no meetings I'm aware of to tell local schools about his presence, he has no tag and no curfew. He has just been put into this community and given all he could wish for – food, furniture, a home and a laptop.'

Ceri-Lee, now a student paramedic, added: 'I am in no way transphobic and I feel incredibly sorry for people who genuinely need to transition. They face stigma and worse because of cases like this.

'But it should just not be an option for those convicted of sexual offences against children to suddenly say that they want to be a woman.

'This only arose at the end of 2021 when he was due to be moved to an open prison but then had a fight with a fellow prisoner that was serious enough to stop the move.

'That is when he went for the gender change – when he was almost 60, having been a macho man all his life and having had eight children and having never mentioned gender dysphoria before.

'Now he is being indulged by everyone. The prison service gave him make-up and women's clothes and now a charity for the armed forces have provided him with so much stuff when all he did was a short stint in the Territorial Army in his 20s.

He has conned them. He was never a soldier. The whole thing is outrageous.'

Fox arrived in a sheltered accommodation block for older people in a tiny town at the start of June.

She was given new furniture, a television, printer, washing machine, crockery and a laptop by the armed forces charity SSAFA because she had once been in the Territorial Army.

Fox's neighbour Lyn Robinson, 74, said: 'My first impression was that this person was very cheerful and amenable, assuring all us older people that they'd be no trouble. They seemed very confident despite the outlandish appearance.

'I thought she might find it difficult fitting in so I really took care of her. I gave her clothes and even lent her £70, which is a lot for a pensioner.

'I took her to the food bank at the Baptist Church where she was given loads of stuff including vouchers for a butcher in town and for a coffee shop.

'And we went to a concert at St Edward's Church where I introduced her to the vicar. I had no idea of her history.

Fox's decision to change gender before being released from prison, provoked a storm of protest when it was revealed in April.

She chose the same name as gender-critical campaigner and media pundit Claire Fox, now sitting in the House of Lords as Baroness Fox of Buckley.

Campaign groups fear that by changing their gender, sex offenders can effectively whitewash their past and could avoid detection under the Home Office's Disclosure and Barring Service, set up to protect children from abusers.

DBS uses official paperwork such as a passport or driving licence to carry out their checks, both of which can prove difficult to check after choosing a new name and gender.

The potential loophole is provided by the Gender Recognition Act (2004), which created a 'sensitive applications route' for trans people.

Ceri-Lee added: 'The victim liaison officer told me the only reason I was being informed about the name and gender change was because he had given permission for this to happen.

'It's allowing him to say that Clive Bundy never existed, that my abuse never existed and it is clearly a danger to children which is why I decided to speak out.'

Fox is not the first sex offender to change gender while in prison

A rapist who carried out sexual attacks as a man named Adam Graham in 2016 and 2019 sparked a heated debate earlier this year after changing gender and name to Isla Bryson while waiting to stand trial at the High Court in Glasgow.

And in 2018, convicted rapist 'Karen White' – branded a 'highly manipulative' predator by a judge – was moved to HMP New Hall in Wakefield, West Yorkshire, and sexually assaulted two women inmates.

Fox was arrested after police discovered images of Ceri-Lee online that the abuser had been trading with other pedophiles.

She was later charged with and admitted to several counts of sexual activity with Ceri-Lee, inciting a child to engage in sexual activity and distributing indecent images.

In 2016 she was sentenced to 15 years in prison. It was not until the end of 2021 that she told the authorities she wanted to change gender.

A SSAFA spokesperson, said: 'SSAFA, the Armed Forces charity provides practical, emotional and financial assistance to serving personnel, reservists, veterans and their families in their time of need. Due to data protection laws and our need to protect our beneficiaries' and employees' confidentiality, we cannot comment on individuals or their circumstances.'

A spokesperson for Dyfed-Powys Police said: 'In line with national guidelines we can neither confirm nor deny the information you have provided.

'However, we can confirm that Multi Agency Public Protection Arrangements are utilised throughout the entire force area to manage appropriate offenders living in the community and they will be closely supervised by local officers to minimise any risk.'

#Claire Fox is Clive Bundy #Child Abuse #Child Abuse material online #UK #Wales

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grison-in-space · 1 year

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man I've been listening to Guards! Guards! again, right. I was going to do Feet of Clay again but I wanted so badly to spend some time with Lady Sybil in her element, so I detoured over to the beginning. (Incidentally, Making-Money!Vetinari up against Guards!-Guards!Vetinari is one hell of a contrast. One gets the sincere impression that older Vetinari would wipe the floor with his younger self if they ever met, and then be painfully embarrassed afterward; and yet you can see the potential among the arrogance. I wrote this bit before I wrote a longer piece about that exchange, but I'll get round to linking it in here in a moment.)

But I wanted to discuss Sybil.

The first thing you have to understand about Sybil is that she is an archetype of a certain kind of autistic person, usually a woman (or a queer man). You find them in every kind of domestic animal fancy, although Sybil is of the class and rank that generally focuses on relatively large, expensive, and impractical animals; the dragon fancy is mostly based on the dog fancy, with strong influence from horse fancies and sometimes cat or falconry fancies. It is not a coincidence that Sybil is unmarried and that most of her time is spent with other women, often middle class or upper class women, who share her all consuming interest in dragons; this has been a really common social circle for autistics, especially autistic women with independent money, into a given animal fancy since the cultural concept of animal fancies existed.

The second thing you have to understand about Sybil is that she is not at all a conventionally attractive woman. Here are the things we learn about her as Vimes does, in order: she has inherited wealth and status that she does not particularly care about; she is large--taller than Vimes himself, or at least tall enough to loom over him--and "booms" confidently and incomprehensibly at him; and even after she takes off the heavy protective armor useful for conducting a dragon mating, she's tall and fat and (implied to be) heavily muscled under the fat. Her figure is compared to the Venus of Willendork, or perhaps an operatic Valkyrie, and she wears wigs because she is generally fairly bald, or at least singed. She's loud by nature. She wanders around with a dragon on her shoulder creating awful smells and occasionally dribbling.

God, I love her. Speaking as another erstwhile animal fancy autistic, she's really living the dream there. And this little Watch man shows up in her life, totally fails to understand what she's asking for when she tries to conscript him into the easy job for the breeding she's trying to facilitate, and then sits and asks her a bunch of pointed questions about her beloved dragons. He's weird in his own way and a little drunk, and he really is unfortunate enough not to have any dragons experience at all, but he sits down and he asks her questions and he listens to everything she can infodump at her with, as far as I can tell, rapt fascination.

This is not an experience Sybil Ramkin has frequently had. He doesn't try to escape or change the subject or draw her back to the pieces he cares about even a little bit. He's clearly dazed and confused and probably, knowing Vimes, a little bit drunk, but he's not even visibly discomfited enough to shove poor old Dewdrop Maybelline Talonthrust the First out of his lap. Sybil clearly knows that most people don't appreciate being drooled acid on, and tells Vimes repeatedly that he can shove the old man off, but he makes no effort to do so at any point. Given that dragons are described as having a quite pervasive smell, and given all the other details of their biology, I can't even begin to imagine how awful the old dragon must smell... and Vimes just sort of rolls with it.

(It's a pity Pterry didn't understand show names at all, of course; the ones we get should tell us something about the relationships among dragons and kennels, and the prefixes should be repeated, and whatever Sybil's own kennel name is should be present in many of the dragons she mentions. Probably it's either Talonthrust or Moonmist, but either way Goodboy Bindle Featherstone of Quirm is named entirely wrong. He's clearly of her own breeding, so he should have a kennel prefix or suffix that aligns with hers, not a name that has nothing in common with her other dragons and implies that his dam was bred by the duchess of Quirm rather than by Sybil herself.)

He listens and he listens and he asks questions and he goes down to the kennels to look at her pride and joy and listen to her explaining what makes each of them so nice. And then he brings her an incredibly exciting present. And he expresses interest in the sweet little whittle she's been trying to work out what to do with, who is totally not a breeding specimen but is too weird even for the sort of people who adopt dragons from the Sunshine Sanctuary. He doesn't even try to leave until the big dragon overhead causes a big stir, and then when she has him taken to her house to recover, she finds him reading her book about diseases of the dragons with every evidence of fascination.

Small wonder she takes notice of him, really.

#discworld #sybil ramkins #sybil

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