#suede bootie

[enchantingfemininity]

[divastreasurecloset]

Check out this listing I just found on Poshmark: Impo "Electra" Women's Embroidered Suede Floral Booties Size 9.

[fashionableimage]

[enchantingfemininity]

[pepperstories]

Emergency Contact | Joseph Quinn

Warnings: SMUT! MDNI! Don't suck cock and drive please. That is very dangerous and also against the law. This is pretty much a series. Booty Call Joe. Tasty morsel of a man that he is.

Word Count: 3384

NSFW! 18+

A photo shoot prop worth the joy ride. Joe drove a smidge above the speed limit and enjoyed the gust of wind rattling through the sports car. The photo shoot was a success. The suit was ridiculous, but worthy of the name and the exciting chill he felt through his scalp from the excess water made him feel alive.

That was until he got a text from you.

You weren’t far away. A hideout bar in the centre of London, drinking dirty martini’s with work colleagues after a gruelling, unforgiving day in your black suede heels he loved so much.

He pictures you in the almost see through white shirt. A peekaboo bra that threatened to reveal the secrets Victoria longed to keep. A grey or black pencil skirt that shaped and hugged you perfectly enough to seem professional but flattering to draw the attention from the eyes of those in the dark bar you currently sat.

It was casual. A hook up that was established long before his current limelight and claim to fame. A mere Tinder date that was successful enough to lay the ground rules to some of the best fucks he’s ever experienced without the need for chocolates, flowers and general validation.

But he cared for you. You spoke about past relationships and how it just didn’t fit around your lifestyle. You’re favourite Ramen flavours when you’ve had too much red wine to cook an actual meal. The books you have strategically placed around your apartment that threaten to fall each time he makes an impromptu thrust of his hips into your welcoming cunt.

You cared for him. His love for the theatre and the books he had gracing the walls of his single occupancy flat in the centre of London. His flourish of knowledge on Hollywood gossip you wouldn’t find in the gossip columns of magazines. And his expert technique of making you cum with a tightening of his fingers around your neck and a flick of his tongue on your clit.

It was an understanding between the both of you: Things were perfect just the way they were.

So as he drove at top speed, his destination a small, darkly light pub just shy of the Shard. Just past 1 am and he could feel his cock twitching at the prospect of fucking you in a vintage sport car. Too far from home to even attempt the chivalry of fucking you in a nice comfy bed after a long 8 hours, he needed you now.

The narrowing streets were enough to tell him that he was close. The one way system was a permanent tattoo in his brain from growing up near the City. The small enclosed lanes getting tighter and tighter as he neared the corner you said you would wait.

A flash. His headlights. They caught the silvery grey of your duster jacket and you checked your watch and adjusted your handbag. A slight tilt in your step which he believed to be the alcohol.

Smirking at your anxious and somewhat impatient rocking that you do when you’re horny, he pulled up swiftly. You stood where a space was available, how thoughtful.

Glancing into the car, your face was a slight tinge of red. An alcoholic flush that kept you warm but caused a shiver to run down your vertebrae. A sports car was just the icing on the ever growing arousal that kept you from calling it a night.

“You looking for a good time?” Was all you said before swinging the car door open.

———————

Cramped. That was the only word that came to mind as you lifted your leg over to straddle him. A small enclosed piece of land between zones was where he decided to park. Not conspicuous in the slightest, but added enough danger to the situation to make the event much more pleasurable.

“Could you have chosen a smaller car?” You breathed out. The smell of tangy lime and stiff alcohol on your breath as it puffed into his face. He could only laugh at himself. He thought you would find this sexy.

“I thought I would impress you?” You scoffed slightly, manoeuvring the lace of your underwear down your leg and chucking it onto your bag in the back seat. His obnoxious zipper catching the inside of your thigh.

“You don’t have to impress me. You do that enough already.” It was flirting. A slight blush rising from his neck as he pulled you into a kiss. Both of your hands threading into the near dry curls on his head. He moved his hands from the dip on your back to between you. Unfastening the belt and trousers he had put on in a rush this morning. Not exactly the easiest combo for this soirée.

You settled on neck, just below his earlobe, where he liked it. His head dipping down every so often to see the progress of getting the trousers off his waist. A frustrated grunt here and there as he struggled with the angle. Too conscious of the fact that you were already a mere inch from a concussion should you jerk up suddenly.

“Fuck! I thought this would be hot as fuck.” His frustrated outburst was enough for you to sigh. His attempts at removing his pants were unsuccessful unless you stepped out of the car. Not ideal should a passing motorist or God forbid, a police car, should pass you.

“Why don’t we just go back to mines?” You suggested. More for the fact that your unforgiving hangover tomorrow will be better settled in your own bed. A walk of shame was not on the cards this weekend.

“I have an early shoot tomorrow. I also need to bring this car back.” His grimace was enough to tell you that this wasn’t going to happen tonight. Kissing his lips, you settled yourself back over into the passenger seat. The cool air settling between your legs as your sat back.

“It’s fine. Could you take me back into town? I can get a cab.” There was a hint of a smile. Enough to tell him that you were disappointed but not angry. Adjusting his seat and trousers. He nodded, pulling the seatbelt over his shoulder and starting the engine.

——————

City lights were the best part of going into London. Illuminating the skyline with hues of the colour wheel. It reflected on your tired face as he drove through the still busy streets of London. His cock still twitching in his trousers, he adjusted and readjusted too many times for it not to go unnoticed.

Tilting your head round to him, you looked around the busy streets and glanced into the rear view mirror. No sign of flashing blue lights or an impatient motorist tailing too close behind.

Adjusting yourself in the seat, you simply advised to keep driving, eyes forward and don’t be too obvious. Unsure of the command, he simply nodded and set his gaze forward, focusing on the crude rusted metal of the Vauxhall Corsa in front of him.

Ripping away the buttons and zipper on his trousers, you pulled his cock free from his boxers. The soft pale flush of skin a dull comparison to the angry red tip. You weren’t completely settled on the idea of getting him off and leaving the small motor without at least some relief. Although he was driving through London city, your focus was on the task at hand. A tight squeeze of your fingers around the base of his cock, you pulled the soft foreskin down enough to reveal his leaking tip and the pulsing skin of his frenulum. All and all, he was fit to burst.

You sensed him raising his hand above the crown of your head and then settle back on the wheel multiple times. His concentrations wearying as you hollowed out your mouth and slide down the full length of him. Tongue flat against his soft under side of his cock, you bobbled and sucked. You done it within an inch of your life. You didn’t tease, you didn’t force yourself down. This was for his pleasure and you needed him to cum.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me wreck.” His eyes were rolling on their own accord. His hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. No red lights, no busying traffic, he found himself driving towards the Burroughs where you lived. Without setting your sights on the location, you hummed and moaned against him. His stomach tensing, his body rolling forward at the sensation. The tip of your tongue tracing the sensible vein that ran alongside his shaft.

Although you were no amateur to fallacio, your attention to detail haltered slightly when he seemed to get harder and larger in your mouth. Realising that his anatomy was so finely tuned to the need your body had.

“I’m going to cum. Fuck, hold it there.” He spread the palm of his hand out across the base of your skull, thrusting slightly up into your gaped oral cavity and causing the stream of saliva to drool out of your mouth and on to his smart grey trousers. The strategically placed uvula that dangles at the back of your throat now coated in his spent, he done his usual thing: grunt, gasp and heavy breath between his chapped lips.

Cleaning off the rest of him, you suctioned off his cock with an obscene pop, looking up at him as you done so. The beautiful scarlet red of his lip stuck between the pearly whites. Lifting yourself back into you seat, you realised he had stopped. The dimly lit street was familiar and you gave him a confused lift of your eyebrow.

“I thought you had to give the car back?” Your tone was teasing but serious.

“They know where to find me.” Was all he said before pulling your crinkled shirt in his hands and pulling you over the handbrake for an open mouthed kiss. His hands sliding into your hair where your skull meets your spine. Fingers splayed and massaging the tense muscle. Sliding your tongue into his mouth, you felt his wandering free hand skim up the fabric of your work skirt and feeling the hold ups underneath. Pulling away from the kiss, he looks straight into your glazed eyes and kneed the seam of the lace hidden so carefully underneath.

“They’re your favourite.”

——————

It wasn’t a matter of how quick he could get you up the stairs, but if he could restrain himself enough to get you in bed. With a turn of the key, he bundles you up from behind and slams you against the nearest wall. Your face smooshed into the wallpaper and he pulls your jacket from behind and tosses it into your flat. His arms rounding you to pull apart the shirt he loved so much. All the while, he whispered filth into your ear. Sucking on the delicate lobe, he asked how wet you were, imagining the pressing and tightening of your thighs all night as you waited for him. How he was going to fuck you against this wall because there was no way he could walk the 20 paces into your bedroom.

He pulls the shirt off your shoulders, letting the garment hang around your skirt where it was tucked. The soft skin on your shoulder a reddish hue from your bra strap as he pulled it off to place wet opened mouthed kisses to it. Your panting and wanting was only urging him forward in his mission. Thumbing both nipples over your bra as you pushed your arse against him. His kisses roamed your cervical spine, placing soft pecks to the inter-vertebral discs as he watched you relax further into his touch. Reaching the middle of your back, he replaces his mouth with his fingers, rubbing two fingers underneath the clasp of your pretty bra and using his thumb to pull free. You whipped it off before he could and turned in his arms as he took to his knees in front of you.

He had no words. Your eyes a drunken, sexual glaze. Your neck hollowed from the deep gasping breaths you were taking and your perfect tits sloped and pert just for him. He decided he wasn’t going to take the skirt off at that very moment. Tilting his head to at you, he places both hands on each ankle. Running his hands up the velvety soft material of your light stockings and pushing up the impossibly tight pencil skirt. The fabric releasing it’s grasp of your full thighs and wide hips and nestled just below your bellybutton.

Nothing. You were bare to him. The V-Shaped valley of your cunt in perfect view. The modest little wax job you had since the last time you saw him left a tuff of curly hair that rested just above your clit. The rest was the perfectly smooth and hair free skin he couldn’t wait to taste. Your puffy lips rippling with anticipation as he leans forward to place a kiss on your pubic bone.

Pulling a leg over his shoulder, he licks a long thick stripe from your hole to your clit. A shaking breath coming from you and pushing your splayed fingers through his soft curls. Wrapping his lips around your clit, he flicks at a quick pace and marvelled in the mewling sounds you make from above. Gripping his hair tighter and moving your leg higher for him, he latches on harder and licks faster. His lower half holding up your sliding weight as you arch off the wall.

You weren’t sure what to feel in the moments leading up, but your body was buzzing with pleasurable electricity. His tongue grounding you with his fast and hard licks. His soft tight curls in between your clammy fingers. You gasped and tightened as he suctioned your clit between his lips. Suddenly he stood, grabbing your soft cheeks and pulling you into a kiss. Lifting your leg around his waist as he began to grind his hips into your soft cunt. The perfect hard friction you needed to cum loudly into his mouth.

He was surprised at your quick finish. Your shaking leg against his hip as your cunt pulsed against his clothed cock. It was enough for him to pull away from the kiss, unbuckle his belt and feel then slid down his legs. Taking your other leg, he pulls you up against the wall and forces you to wrap and hold your weight against his hips.

Gasping into his open mouth, he shifted his weight back and held you with one arm. The adrenaline from what was about to happen giving him the strength to hold your entire weight against him. Doing his signature move, licking a thick saliva filled strip down his hand and looking you straight in the eye as he done it, he pumped his cock straight into you.

It was the fullest you ever felt and it told you a lot about what was happening. The head of his cock striking your cervix straight on as he pushed straight in. The feeling of his cock still a stranger to your being as he moaned into your mouth. He settled into you before he began his thrusts. It was hard and true as he fuck you straight into the wallpaper. The slick feeling of his cock causing you to moan and pant into his mouth as he licked at your top lip each thrust he done.

A slick sound in the air of your small apartment as the headlights from the passing car gave you a glimpse of his thrusting cock into your wet hole.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day.” Was all he said as he thrust up into the spongy interior of your cunt. Your legs becoming somewhat numb from the position you had adopted. Words were hard to form in that moment. Biting back a sense of reality to relish in the continuous stokes he was giving you. It was a sense of passion you had never felt before. Warm brown eyes staring straight into yours. Forget about corporate mergers, Excel spreadsheets with broken coding, too tight a skirt and dirty martini's with colleagues you hardly knew. This is where you wanted to be.

It wasn't long before your breathe hitched. His mocking gasp in your face and the smirk highlighting the crinkle cut laughter lines on his face as he brought you closer. The stamina of his hips meeting yours. The angle he had you placed was striking that pink wet wall at the base of your cervix. Enough pain to produce pleasure and enough pleasure to dull the pain.

"I'm gonna cum, keep fucking going." You didn't recognise your own voice. Whether it was the alcohol in your system or the fucked out A-lister pounding his way into your womb, your voice sounded miles away.

"Wasn't going to. Never will." He grunted. A squeeze of your arse cheek and a hike of your leg pushed you further up the wall but him closer to your breast bone. The shlick of sweat gathering between the valley of your breasts was no match for Joe's skilled tongue laying flat and gliding up the column of your neck.

The creamy base of his cock pulled strings of moisture up to your clit, the friction being enough to pull a haunting groan from your lips. Something Joe was quick to pick up on.

"Right there? This where you need me?" He moved impossibly hard now. Deep thrusts that were wet and plentiful. He felt it before you, the pulsing ripple of your cunt swallowing him whole. No award. No character he played ever made him feel like this. Never made him work so hard to please. It was all you.

"Fuck!" He felt you jolt as it took you higher. A soaring wave that made your fingernails bite into his shoulders, your head fall against the wall and his cock to sputter inside you.

"Where do you want me, love? Hm? Inside? You want me to cum inside and fill you up?" His thrusts were calculated now. The aftermath of your orgasm tittering out as you thrashed and pinched your eyebrows at him. You almost looked savage as you growled and rolled your hips to meet his.

"Inside. Fuck, cum inside me." You said through gritted teeth. A manic, desperate look in your eyes. Just looking at you was enough. He felt himself slipping and sliding inside your cunt. His hands holding the majority of your bouncing weight as he felt his cock slide against your public bone. It made him possessed.

Howling into your neck, he came with three striking thrusts. You didn't think you could get any further up the wall until he proved you wrong with his finish. Heaving, wet breathes into your neck, he grounded his feet below up and held you close.

"Too hot. Too much. Too fucking good." Was all you thought as Joe rubbed his forehead into your breasts. His heavy breathing sweeping over the lace of your bra and cooling your damp sweat slick skin. Pulling his head up to look at you, you searched for something. A weaver of doubt. An inking of regret. Instead, you saw a stillness. A familiar relaxed lull in his eyes that made you feel safe. It was intoxicating.

"We're far too good at that." Was all he laughed out as he sighed against your neck. Soft little pecks to your jugular and needing hands on your thighs. "Hmm, I bet you never spoke about this in your interview's" A little snarky but witty, he softly bit the taunt skin of your chin making you yelp as he pulled out and slide you down his body until your toes touched the ground. He held you firmly against the wall still, tippy toes just allowing you the height for him to kiss you soundly and passionately on the lips. A thank you.

"Wait." You mumbled against his lips, his dark chocolate eyes opening again to look at you. A cute little head tilt thrown into the bargain. "How do they know the car is here?" A raised eyebrow was enough to make him bite his lip. Anticipation building as he pondered the right response. "You're my emergency contact."

[bebemoon]

look for the name GIULIA (requested by @venusianight) | ann demeulemeester black sheer and silk asymmetrical top w/ scarf hood (a/w 2oo2), elena velez oval slit linen skirt in black, marithé + françois girbaud black leather stitched ankle booties (c. 2ooo's), serge lutens "l'orpheline" eau de parfum (black pepper, dry woods, incense), roberta bernays suede pillbox hat w/ attached scarf (c. 193o's)

[rainbowsky]

👀 Clothing Coincidences

Just want to talk about some recent clothing candies that are being talked about everywhere.

Fake, fan fiction, CPN.

The first is from a BTS clip from The Youth Memories. Here's the video (no spoilers):

You can see that in the first clip he's wearing these slippers:

Netizens have identified them as Ugg slippers.

In the second part he's wearing his costume shoes, but resting off to the side is a pair of Ugg booties, along with the slippers. With a better top view of the slippers it's even more obvious they're Uggs.

There is the seam along the top of the upper

A square panel of suede at the top of that seam

A split in the fuzzy lining where the seam ends

We all know who endorses Ugg.

As for the timing of this endorsement and GG's filming, just a reminder that in China celebrities are required to be accountable for what they endorse. They must verify the quality of a product before endorsing it by either using the product, or their family members must use it in cases where it's a product they can't use.

Also, GG is seen wearing Vision Streetwear shoes in another BTS clip, shared by Vision on their Weibo.

And we know who our Vision Street Wear skater boy is...

(source) (source) (source)

[rudhira]

Wow am I tired of looking at this skirt now! Anyway!

tfbottomskirt replaced with a shoeswap using @pforestsims‘ Laced Suede Shoes because I love them. Sadly these will not pick up texture defaults, however you can fairly easily edit the included textures.

tfbottomskirtuboots replaced with another shoeswap, using Simplicaz’ Winter Booties converted by eir. I remapped the shoes to fit onto the TS2 body. These also will not pick up texture defaults, but feel free to edit them.

And, as per usual, I’ve made age conversions. For child and adult, and they’re bundled with the default replacements in the files labeled ADDONS. If you only want the defaults and nothing extra, get the regular files instead. The skirtuboots add-ons can not be used together with these, as I used the same base files.

Download skirt! - swatch

Download skirtuboots! - swatch

Aaaand if you want to make recolours (because I sure don’t), I’ve uploaded the meshes and a single recolour that you can use as a base in Bodyshop.

Download recolour bases!

[nyc-looks]

Jessie, 29

“I’m wearing a Vogue t-shirt, thrifted suede skirt from 40k Or Less at Shop 86 who have some of the coolest 2nd hand pieces, thrifted leather biker jacket, Ugg silver booties, Prada bag. I have a lot of fun blending silhouettes, textures, and fashion eras into a cohesive look that feels reflective of the way I feel for the day — so today was a mix of casual and polished.“

Mar 4, 2023 ∙ Lower East Side

[lovelytsunoda]

i kissed a girl // logan sargeant

summary: logan should have known better than to kiss the college girl at that dive bar. especially when to the untrained eye, she looked like she had a boyfriend already

pairing: logan sargeant x female reader

warnings: bar fight, nicholas latifi gets punched in the face, miscommunication. alcohol based bad decisions. logan also gets punched once or twice. y/n isn't taking any of his shit.

making fun of him is so easy and also so much fun-

author's note: this is pure satire, this is a joke. please do not take it seriously. it’s not that deep.

please do not take this seriously.

austin, texas. october 2022.

"i'm sorry, again, about taking your seat next year."

across the booth, nicholas latifi grumbled, reaching for his beer bottle. "somebody was going to take it eventually. i just wish i'd had more time."

the drivers for the williams formula one team were sitting in the middle of a dive bar following the free practice sessions on friday morning. there was an air of unease among the group, an awkward bit of tension between logan sargeant and nicholas latifi, on edriver coming in to take the other's place.

"he doesn't even have his super license yet, mate." jack aitken shook his head. "there's still hope for you yet, i don't think jost has a backup plan."

alex albon chuckled. "good old jost. he's retiring, you know. he doens't want people knowing until the season is over."

nicky sighed softly, raising his bottle of corona. "to jost."

"to jost!" the other three drivers echoed, clinking the bottles together.

a country song roared in the background, a group of girls in tight jeans and cowboy hats gathered around a pool table, guys in tight white shirts and cowboy boots at the bar. it was the most texan joint in the whole of texas. there wasn't a single meal that didn't have red meat in it.

and that's when he saw her, out of the corner of his eye, walking into the bar in a tight denim jacket, the collar of a white buttoned shirt poking out over the top, a pair of suede booties on her feet as she shyly meandered over to the bar.

"dude," alex laughed. "she's so not your type."

"fuck off, alex." logan glowered. "i'm just lookin'."

"she looks like she'd punch him in the face if he tried to talk to her." nicky remarked.

logan rolled his eyes. "no she doesn't."

"she has that 'i hate everybody' look on her face."

"i'm settling this." logan shook his head, placing his bottle of corona back on the table. "i'm going to buy her a drink."

"and you think that's really going to work, mr. questionable family ties and cocky american charm?" jack snickered.

tuning out his teammates, logan slid out of the booth as a kid rock song began to play. the girl was alone at the bar, her muscular escort in the back playing a round of pool with some college students that he appeared to know.

clearing his throat, logan took a seat at the barstool next to her.

"that seat is taken." her voice was deeper than he expected, her texan drawl faint. "i don't appreciate it when strange men in bars, where the entire counter seating section is empty, decide to sit right next to me without asking first.

"my apologies." logan dialed up the charm, extending his arm for a handshake. "logan sargeant, future williams f1 driver."

this got her attention.

she swiveled in her seat, raising her eyebrows. her skin was washed purple under the bar lights. up close, logan was wondering if maybe she really was his type.

"i've heard about you, sargeant. you're a pay driver. williams' last hope. i know my shit, and i know that guys like you don't date girls like me."

logan leaned against the bar, trying to pretend that he couldn't hear nicholas, alex and jack laughing at him from the booth. "what do you mean 'guys like me'?"

"cocky florida frat boys who think they're entitled to everything because they have money. and i'm the quiet, independent type who was raised better than to think that dating a man with money would solve all of my problems." she smiled sweetly, playing with the straw in her soft drink. cherry coke, if logan was pressed to make a guess.

she didn't even fucking drink. and he didn't know what to say.

maybe he liked being put in his place.

or maybe he was just looking for a fight.

she laughed. "cat got your tongue, sargeant? god, you're just as shallow as i thought. the kind of television character i'd enjoy making fun of."

"who said i was looking for a relationship? even just a first date?"

"i don't do one night stands. nice try, though."

back at the booth, the other three williams drivers could hardly contain their laughter.

"look at how red he is!" nicholas latifi panted. "she really put him in his place."

alex raised an eyebrow "i think he's enjoying it a little too much, if you know what i mean."

"this has been fun, logan. you're a real charmer, even though i've done all the talking." the mystery girl said, gathering her jacket in her arms and moving to get off the barstool. "but i came here with someone, and we were actually waiting for a table to open up next door."

"is he your boyfriend? you're too good for him."

it was just supposed to be a line. but as he said it, logan was realizing that it was the truth.

"maybe he is, maybe he isn't. what's it to you?"

logan grinned. "i just think you're really pretty."

he shouldn't have done it. every synapse in his body was telling him not to do it. but impulse control and good-decision-making, especially while drunk has never been logan's forte.

so when he kissed her, he should have known there would be consequences.

for a moment, it felt like she was kissing him back. but it's not like he could explore that feeling before his body was yanked away from hers.

"who the fuck do you think you are?" the man in the muscle tank and sweats barked at the driver, who was likely only half the body weight of the tattooed muscle man standing across from him.

"look, i don't want any trouble, dude. she kissed me back!"

she rolled her eyes. "manolo, knock it off."

the bar quieted, the last bars of 'all summer long' fading out. y/n didn;t trust people who knew all the words to more than one kid rock song, and logan looked like the type who had memorized 'all summer long'. that's not to say that she didn't think it might be fun to mess around with him for a little, never going too far or getting too serious.

but the line to 'serious' had been crossed when manolo forgot that he was a family friend, not her older brother.

"no, i won't knock it off, y/n! he kissed you even after you said you were already here with someone."

"don't make a scene!"

nobody was sure who acted first.

it could have been logan, who was just trying to get his polo shirt free from manolo's fingers and accidentally headbutted the man in the arm. it could have been manolo, who'd hold on logan's shirt quickly became a punch in the jaw.

but that's when all hell broke loose.

nicky and jack jumped up from the table to try and separate the two men, just as logan threw his first punch.

nicholas latifi just happened to be the unfortunate fucker who pushed logan back when manolo retaliated, with the canadian catching a fist to the nose.

"that wasn't very nice!" he shouted, holding his now-bleeding face as alex joined the fray, pulling logan back from the italian.

"manolo, stop!" y/n shouted, standing in the middle of the fray. "let's just go."

she watched manolo leave, mumbling and huffing to himself about how men should know better than to make moves on girls who so clearly aren't interested.

not to say that y/n wasn't mildly intrigued by the florida man, but she wouldn't go as far as to say she was interested.

"sorry about manolo. he forgets his place sometimes. and you should learn yours, sargeant." she grinned. "it's at the back of a twenty car grid, bottom of the wdc. i'll see you on the big screen, pay driver."

"thanks for making my night more interesting."

"dude," alex chuckled. "you were in way over your head."

"shut up!"

[happylandfill23]

i've been tagged by @intravenous-agnostic to share five songs i've had on repeat lately, so here they are!! thanks for the tag :))

tagging: @runway-houses-city-clouds @kawowru-nagisa @snobgoblin @pavlover-boy and @kai-g-w <33

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

London Bootie in Suede Black from PAIGE (no longer sold)

[ereardon]

Come Back [Chapter 2][Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC]

Summary: Eight years ago, Bradley Bradshaw was just a college boyfriend who broke your heart. Now, he’s back in your life after a coincidental reunion, and he’s adamant about starting up a friendship. Will it be possible to be just friends with Bradley, or is he inevitably going to end up ruining everything you’ve spent the better part of a decade rebuilding?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x OC [Nurse Maggie Brooms]

WC: 3.7K

Warnings: Cursing, angst, alcohol

Series masterlist

A part of you knew that Bradley would keep his word. So it was only a small surprise when Friday morning rolled around and a text popped up as you were getting ready for your shift. 

Busy tonight? Bunch of us are going out. Would love for you to join us. 

A second text popped up moments later. 

How was that? Friends worthy? 

You laughed and slid the phone into your pocket. When you got to the hospital and changed, you sat down in the locker room on a bench and pulled it out, staring at the screen, debating a response. 

Finally, you wrote, Sure, why not? 

He sent back a smiley face a little too quickly for your liking. You put the phone down on the nurses station and promptly forgot about it for the rest of the day. The floor was busy, too busy. There was barely enough time to strip the beds between patients before another person came in, always urgent, always in a rush. 

By the time your shift was over, you were sweaty and exhausted. A night out sounded like the last possible place you wanted to be. You’d rather be at home, wearing a pair of old yoga pants and eating Chinese takeout straight from the paper box. 

Instead, you drove home and jumped in the shower, wrapped a towel around your body and stood in front of the closet for twenty five minutes trying to decide on an outfit. 

Flopping down on the bed, still wrapped in the towel, you grabbed your phone. 

“I don’t know what to wear,” you grunted into the mic. 

“Well hello sunshine,” Kailey said, “aren’t you a pleasure to hear from.” 

You sat up. “I don’t know what to wear,” you repeated. 

“Don’t know what to wear for what?” she asked. 

“To go out.” 

Kailey sighed on the other end of the line. “OK, babe, you’re really making me do all the legwork here. What the fuck are you talking about.” 

She was going to yell at you. You just knew it. “I don’t know what to wear to the bar to see Bradley and his friends.”

There was a pregnant pause. And then another. You actually peeled the phone away from your face and looked down at the screen to make sure you hadn’t lost the connection. Then, “Bradley fucking Bradshaw?”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see you. 

“You dumb bitch,” she said and you couldn’t help it — you laughed. Kailey had been your sophomore year roommate at UVA, the year you met Bradley. She had seen it all go down so it’s no surprise she wasn’t Bradley’s biggest fan. You loved her for that.

“Now’s not the time for chastising me,” you said. “I need an outfit and I need it now.” 

“Bradley fucking Bradshaw,” she repeated. You sighed and she cleared her throat. “OK, fine, I’ll help. What’s the place?”

“I don’t know, some bar. He texted me the address.” 

“You guys text?” 

“Keeks,” you moaned into the phone. 

“Fine! Go casual, but hot. Low cut top and jeans. Your heeled booties. Leather or suede jacket. Hair down.” 

“You’re a fucking genius,” you said, rummaging through the drawers for your dark wash jeans and stretchy black bodysuit. “Have I mentioned that lately?”

“I expect a full recap tomorrow,” she said. “And text me later when you get home so I know your dumb ass didn’t go home with him.” 

“We’re just friends!” you said, putting the phone on speaker and tossing it on the bed, dropping the towel and shimmying into the bodysuit and jeans. 

“Since when?”

“Since he showed up in my ER a few days ago,” you said. 

“Need I remind you how fucking trash this man can be?” Kailey asked and you sensed the warning tone in her voice. “I can write it out if you’ve forgotten.” 

You picked up the phone. “I haven’t forgotten, Keeks. I’m just giving him the benefit of the doubt, OK? He seems like a genuinely decent guy now. Or at least, he’s trying to be.” 

“Yeah, because people are so quick to change,” she said. “I gotta run. I love you. Don’t fuck him.” 

You laughed. “Love you too.” 

When you drove up to the bar, you were surprised to find it was a dive right on the beach. You weren’t sure what you had expected from Bradley. He had never been the fancy restaurant guy, much preferring a burger in the backseat over a four course meal. 

What you hadn’t expected was to open the doors to the Hard Deck and see it was packed to the brim with uniforms. It looked like the inside of a can of neutral-colored sardines. You tried to weave your way back to the bar and it took a lot longer than you had expected. You stuck out in your civilian clothes, garnering looks before you made it to the wooden bar and ordered a vodka soda. 

A tanned arm flashed into view, followed by a familiar grin. “Nurse Maggie, to what do we owe the pleasure.” 

Bed five, concussion guy. You racked your brain for a moment, taking a sip of your drink, before responding. “Mr. Seresin. How’s the headache?”

He leaned across the bar, trapping you in. “Lot better now that you’re here, darlin’. And please, it’s Jake.” 

You laughed. “Honey, I know I already told you that I don’t date patients.” 

He affixed a faux frown across his perfect face. “Sweetheart, I’m crushed. Why even show up here tonight if you’re just going to break my heart?”

You shook your head, chuckling, eyes searching the crowd for Bradley. Jake’s eyeline followed yours. 

“Looking for someone?”

You nodded and bit your lip. “Your darts buddy.” “Should have known you were here for Bradshaw. Well come on, darlin’, I’ll take you to him.” He held out his arm and you took it, snapping up your sweating glass from the bar. Jake weaved you through the crowd, checking to make sure a few times that you were still behind him, all the way toward the back near a pool table and old upright piano. “Bradshaw, Florence Nightingale is here!” he called and you blushed, dropping your hand from his arm. 

Bradley turned from his conversation with a stunning brunette in uniform, a large smile painted across his face. He quickly made his way to your side and reached out for a hug, before stalling slightly. You shifted uncomfortably before reaching out and kissing his cheek, letting one of his hands brush against your waist before falling back to his side. 

“You made it,” he said quietly and you nodded, looking around. Everyone in the corner was staring, watching the interaction intently. Bradley put his hand on your lower back and turned you to face the group. “Guys, this is Maggie. She’s a friend from college.” You watched their eyes narrow, sensing the familiarity. He went around the room for introductions. “You’ve met Seresin aka Hangman, and Coyote.” You nodded and smiled and Coyote raised his beer glass with a wink. “That’s Phoenix, or Natasha,” he said, gesturing to the beautiful brunette he had been speaking to when you approached. “Payback and Fanboy.” Two other guys sitting on stools in the corner. “And that there is Bob.” He pointed to a handsome man wearing glasses who looked startled to hear his name called out, spilling a few peanuts from a plastic cup he held in his lap as he smiled a shy greeting. 

“Nice to meet y’all,” you said softly. Bradley leaned down. 

“Can I get you another drink?” You looked down and realized you had nervously chugged your entire drink in the time it took to get from the bar to the group in the corner. You nodded and Bradley patted your back before sliding his hand away and heading for the bar. 

Looking around, most of the group had gone back to their individual conversations. Bob and Phoenix were the only ones unoccupied, and you approached them hesitantly. At that moment, you realized everyone Bradley had introduced you to was wearing the same type of uniform: a well fitted khaki two piece outfit. Everyone except Bradley. 

“Hi,” you said, sitting on the empty stool next to Bob. “How’s it going?” 

He looked flustered. “It’s uh, it’s good ma’am. How are you?” 

You threw your head back in a laugh. “Honey you don’t have to call me ma’am.”

He shook his head with a small smile and you watched his glasses slip down his nose. He was adorable, you had to stop yourself from reaching out and righting the glasses on his face. “Sorry,” he whispered quietly and you put a hand on his knee to calm him, which only served to turn him bright red. 

The brunette gave you the up and down with her eyes. “So how do you know Bradshaw?” she asked. “And Coyote and Hangman for that matter?” 

“I’ve known Bradley since UVA,” you replied. “He and the other two showed up in the ER in the middle of the night a few days ago as my patients.” 

“You’re a nurse?” she asked and you nodded. “Got it. Well, those idiots were always bound to end up in the ER, so I am not surprised.” 

You laughed and removed your hand from Bob’s leg. “So I have to ask. What’s with the uniforms?”

“What do you mean?” Phoenix asked. 

You shrugged. “Like, why is everyone in this bar wearing a uniform? Is this some military bar?”

She cocked her head to the side. “Bradshaw didn’t tell you he’s a Navy pilot?”

Your mouth hung open and she laughed.

“I’ll take that as a no.” 

A hand reached out with a new drink and you took it, mouth still agape. “I was getting there, Trace,” Bradley said, slinging his arm around the back of your chair. “Guess you beat me to it.” 

You looked up at him in awe. “You’re in the Navy? And you’re a pilot?” 

He smiled. “Told you I had a job.” 

You shook your head, actually rendered speechless. Bradley’s chuckle finally pulled you back to reality. “I’m shocked,” you said finally. 

“He’s just alright,” Jake said, smoothly entering the conversation. “If you want to know who the best pilot on the team is, you’re looking at him.” 

Phoenix audibly groaned and you even saw Bob roll his eyes a bit. “Is that so, hot shot?” you asked and he turned his megawatt smile on you. 

“Darlin’ when you’re the best pilot in the Navy it’s OK to be cocky.” 

This time you groaned and Bradley laughed, hand moving from the back of your chair to your shoulder and squeezing. You looked at him with surprise, but he simply smiled back, not lifting his hand. 

“So did y’all date in college?” Jake asked, chewing on a toothpick that you hadn’t even seen him pull out. 

“We did, yeah,” Bradley said, and there was a hint of nostalgia in his voice. 

“It was a long time ago,” you added, taking a sip of your drink. Vodka soda. He had remembered. “We were different people.” 

“You were the same, Mags,” Bradley whispered. “Determined. Smart. Beautiful.” He said that last word so softly you had to lean into him to hear it. It was like everyone else faded away and it was just you and Bradley in a bubble in the middle of the crowded bar. You had almost forgotten how he could make you feel like the only person in a packed room. He had that magnetism that made you think he was speaking to you and you alone. 

But, like everything with Bradley, it would only last for a moment.

You shook your head. “Well you’re different.” You looked out at the others. “This is a guy who would stay up all night playing poker, listening to The Killers and drinking beer and forget to set an alarm and would sleep through his poli sci exam in the morning. On the regular.” 

Phoenix and Bob laughed and Bradley did, too. “Mags, you’re really painting a picture of me I’ve tried to forget.” 

“Hey, you invited me here tonight,” you said softly. “You knew this came with the territory.” 

He leaned in. “Worth it to have you here.” 

You felt the illusion start to fray. There was a reason exes shouldn’t be friends. He was still the same Bradley who had left you, crying, in your underwear on the floor of your apartment. He was the Bradley who had broken your heart and walked away as if you hadn’t shattered right in front of him. 

Everything he had done had shaped you. He just didn’t realize it. 

As the night went on, you lost track of how many drinks Bradley and Jake bought you. They fought over who would get your next round, and you let them. It was fun to watch them compete, and it was even better not to have to pay for a drink yourself although you got the vibe that they only paid for about half of the drinks they bought just given how friendly they all looked with the dark haired woman behind the bar. 

It wasn’t until you started to physically slide off of the bar chair you had propped yourself up on near Bob that you realized just how many drinks deep you were. “Are you alright?” he whispered softly. 

You nodded and without even thinking, slung your legs over his thighs, tossing one arm around his shoulders to steady yourself. He looked at you with wide eyes as you let your head rest against his shoulder. 

“Maggie?” he murmured and you blinked quickly. 

“Yeah?”

“Think we should get you home,” he whispered and you looked up. He had a kind face. Handsome beneath the glasses. Bob looked like the kind of guy who would never hurt you. It was clear from the way he was holding back, respecting your boundaries despite the fact that you were tangled all over him. Bob looked around for Bradley, spotting him near the piano. The two locked eyes and Bradley noticed how slumped you were in Bob’s arms, stepping away from the piano quickly and making his way across the bar. 

“Is she OK?” he asked Bob quietly. 

“She’s pretty drunk,” he replied. “I can drive her home if you want.” 

“I stopped drinking a few hours ago,” he said. “I got her.” 

Bradley reached out to grab you and you groaned, the room starting to spin. You clung to Bob’s neck, resting your face on his chest. “Don’t want to go,” you murmured. He rubbed a hand over your back soothingly. 

“Bradley’s going to take you home, OK?” he whispered into your ear. 

“No, not him,” you moaned. In your drunken stupor, Bradley looked the same as he had almost a decade earlier. He looked like the guy who had left you, more than once, to fend for yourself and get home alone from a party. Even under the warm lights of the Hard Deck, his new mustache highlighting his frown, to you, Bradley looked like someone who could hurt you if you were stupid enough to trust him. 

“Sweetheart, please,” Bradley whispered to you, touching your arm lightly. “Let me drive you home.” 

Bob smelled fresh, like linens and lemons. His thin fingers held you lightly, like he was afraid you would break. He felt safe, but you knew it was only temporary. 

“Mags, please,” Bradley begged and you opened your eyes, sliding your arm out from Bob’s shoulder. Bob looked down at you and smiled, nodding, and he scooped his hands under your legs, letting Bradley swing you into his arms. You rested your head on his chest, letting your fingers grab his neck as he hoisted you higher and grabbed your purse. “Thanks, Bob. Tell Phoenix I’ll see her tomorrow.” 

Bob nodded and you shut your eyes again as Bradley carried you through the crowd, which had thinned out considerably since you had arrived. 

To your surprise, Bradley dug in your bag and pulled out your car keys, depositing you in the passenger seat and sliding into the driver’s side, fidgeting with the GPS until he found the home setting. 

You didn’t remember getting undressed or crawling into bed. You didn’t remember plugging in your phone on the dock charger on the nightstand, or wiping off your makeup. 

So when you woke up in a sweat in the middle of the night wearing a baggy t-shirt and panties, you were shocked to see Bradley passed out on the reading chair in the corner of your room. You reached for the glass of water on your nightstand, fumbling to set it back down when you heard him stir. 

“Bradley?” you asked. 

He opened his eyes and let out a yawn, along with a little stretch that showed an inch of taunt muscle where his shirt rode up. “Hey there, sweetheart. Feeling OK?” 

You shook your head. “No. Think I’m dying.” 

He laughed softly. “Haven’t seen you that drunk since senior formal.” 

You groaned at the memory. You still couldn’t drink rum after that night. “Don’t remind me,” you moaned, lying back against the pillows and headboard. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t you remember me taking you home?” he asked. 

“Kind of.” 

Bradley chuckled. “You sure made a scene at the bar, baby. Crawling all over Bob’s lap. Man looked like he was about to self combust.” 

“Oh, God,” you moaned, flopping your hands against the fluffy duvet. “I’m so embarrassed.” 

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve seen all of them ten times worse off than you were tonight.” 

“I embarrassed myself in front of your friends,” you said softly. “I can never show my face there again.” “Face as beautiful as that one? Now that would be really unfair.” He was smooth. That had always been part of his persona. Only Bradley Bradshaw could try to woo you in the throes of a hangover. 

“I appreciate you bringing me home, Brad,” you said, “but you can go. It’s late.” The clock on your nightstand said it was nearly five in the morning. 

He stood up and crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. In the darkness, you thought about reaching out, running your fingers over the familiar scars on his cheek. Like all of the nights you had laid next to each other, tracing constellation patterns over each other’s skin. How you would still be able to taste him hours after he had left. The way the mattress felt empty without him once the sun breached the horizon. 

The memory of him haunted you, even as he sat right in front of you.

“I drove you in your car,” he said quietly. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” 

He shook his head. “It’s OK. I’ll just sleep on the couch, call someone in the morning to pick me up.” 

“I can drive you. Once I’m human again,” you said, taking another sip of water. 

Bradley put his warm hand on yours over the covers and you felt a small jolt run up your arm. You had acclimated to the darkness in the room so you could plainly see the look in his eyes. “How badly did I hurt you?” he whispered. There was so much pain pressed into his words, you had to bite back tears. 

You shook your head. “It’s in the past, Bradley.” 

“Fuck, Mags, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I was an asshole.”

“Yes, you were.” 

He didn’t drop his gaze. His thumb traced lightly over your hand in broad strokes. “I’ll never forgive myself for what I did to you.” 

“You seemed to forgive yourself pretty easily if I remember correctly,” you said. “You walked out of my life like I was nothing. Like I meant nothing.” 

“Maggie, I didn’t deserve you,” he said. “I left because I was stupid and I couldn’t give you what you wanted.” 

You sat up, yanking your hand away. “You didn’t want to even try,” you said sharply. 

Bradley hung his head. “You’re right.” 

“It’s late,” you said, sliding back down to lying on your back. “I’m still fucking drunk. Can we just not be having this conversation right now, Brad? I spent too many nights crying about you. I told myself a long time ago I wouldn’t let myself grieve for you anymore.” 

“Fuck,” he murmurred, running his fingers through his hair and standing up. “I treated you so poorly. I am so sorry, Maggie. You’ll never know how sorry I am.” He turned and opened the bedroom door, the light of the hallway flooding in. 

You called out to him. “You want to prove me wrong? Want to show that you’ve changed?”

He turned around with hopeful eyes. 

“Be here in the morning. Don’t let me wake up again and see that you’ve gone. You want to be different, Bradley? Show that you can be someone I can depend on. Be the man you never were back then.” 

Bradley bowed his head in the doorway. Illuminated from behind by the light, you could have sworn he was an angel. And then he opened his mouth. “I didn’t deserve you then,” he said softly. “And I sure as hell don’t deserve to know you now.” 

He turned and shut the door, leaving you in the darkness. 

Tag list: @abaker74 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @luckyladycreator2 @marantha @tayrae515 @xoxabs88xox

[bebemoon]

which shoes do you think the sailor scouts would wear if they actually existed?

sailor moon | pretty sure she'd wear any/all of the sneakers from the vans x sandy liang collaboration, cutesy ballet flats in general, and also these mikiosakabe x pink house "jewelry" mohair trainers

{ also including the magical girl footwear, the gcds "bunny" boots }

{ bonus: neo-queen serenity would wear the melissa x y/project "court" point mules in white }

sailor mercury | unif "seph" black satin mary janes

sailor venus | versace "gianni ribbon" low satin mules in pink

sailor jupiter | prada wave leather heel sandals from the "fairy collection" (s/s 2oo8), fendi tan suede floral embroidered boots (c. 199o's)

sailor mars | prada "cloudburst thunder" low trainers in red and trippen "turbo f" asymmetrical sandals in black

sailor neptune | prada black leather mary janes (c. 199o's), christian lacroix heeled point mules in blue and gold (c. 2ooo's)

sailor uranus | either a nice pair of lemon pepper steppers or some kind of slick suede bootie. prada embellished leather lace-up derby loafer, marsell "gessetto" ankle-high suede boots in black

sailor saturn | maison martin margiela tall tabi boots w/ round heel (a/w 2oo3), (and the more tame option) unif 90's inspired "penny" platform oxford shoe in black

sailor pluto | masha popova wheelspin boots (a/w 2o23), giuseppe zanotti metal printed t-strap sandal

chibiusa | loveshackfancy x shelby mid ankle boot and city boot "cheek & bone" heart boot in pink

tuxedo mask | loewe black leather rose heel sandal

[gorgeoussimsofficial]

Fall Ankle Boots

Super cute suede ankle boots for the fall! These booties come in natural browns, reds, and grey colors to match any outfit.

Fall Ankle Boots. HQ Compatible. 10 color swatches. Custom thumbnail

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[toastydoll]

Since rainbow high is getting extremely worrisome w the new line I’ve coped by making my own wave 6 (drumroll please):

Scarlet, Pumpkin, Mustard, Moss, Cornflower, Royal Purple!

Tbh I was just listing off colors I wished we had gotten in a gc and then realized a) they made a rainbow and b) they were all autumnal themed so I made an inadvertent autumnal wave! All with two outfits bc I’m allowed to dream. I want to make them eventually too bc hello my New Year’s resolution is to make more customs than last year.

Scarlett Connell (scarlet red/orange): a multimedia artist with a passion for eco-friendly graffiti, Scarlett Connell hails from the Pacific Northwest. Growing up on the Oregon coast, Scarlett fell in love with thrifting materials from old logging camps and cargo railroads. Her main outfit is a scarlet beanie, a scarlet plaid scarf, a white tank top, a pair of patchwork scarlet overalls, and graffitied scarlet doc martens. Her second outfit is a scarlet oversized flannel, faded rainbow dream t shirt, torn/cuffed scarlet jeans, and short scarlet rain boots. She keeps her makeup subtle save for a bold detail (scarlet tinged lip, blush, natural brows, graphic scarlet eyeliner) and her scarlet hair straight and chin length. Y’all…she’s the red/orange butch doll we’ve all been waiting for.

Paloma Gordon (pumpkin orange): a sweet-as-can-be baking and pastry major from Salem, Massachusetts. Growing up in such an autumnal region made Paloma fall in love with both the flavors and fashions of the season. Her primary outfit is a pair of cropped ankle pumpkin pants, pumpkin crocs, a white chef coat w pumpkin buttons, and a pumpkin orange neckerchief. Her second outfit is a pair of pumpkin plaid woolen pants, a white cable knit sweater w pumpkin detailing, and pumpkin suede booties. Her makeup is soft and warm yet very, very precise: much like her approach in the kitchen, and she keeps her hair in long curly pumpkin orange ringlets, tied back in a high ponytail. I always wished rh would do a baking major since culinary arts are some of the most impressive art forms in the world (we almost got there w poppy).

Amelie “Frenchie” du Mous (mustard yellow): always on point, Frenchie hones all of her high fashion skills from growing up in Paris into a neatly tailored fashion focus. Her primary outfit is a plaid mustard pinafore over a lace trimmed white blouse with bell sleeves, mustard yellow knee high socks, brown heeled oxfords with mustard laces, and a mustard beret trimmed in white lace. Her second outfit is a pair of knee length mustard plaid shorts w matching suspenders, platform mustard leather loafers, mustard mid calf socks, and a white puffed short sleeved blouse with a mustard plaid bow tie. Her hair is straight and long in two tails. We never got a dark academia girl so here she is to fall in love w scarlet

Ivy Pines (moss green): emerging from the woods for the first time in her life, Ivy is ready to bring her foraging gift to Rainbow High! Her art has always been from the forest around her and her family in Northern California, whether she’s crafting her own dyes or whittling intricate jewelry. Her first outfit is an ombré dip-dyed lace maxi dress (white into moss green) with thin straps, an oversized moss green cardigan, knit to texturally simulate moss (look up moss stitch w this specific rough spin yarn istg it looks just like moss), moss sandals, moss socks, and wooden jewelry with moss jewel accents. Her second outfit is moss green crochet pants, moss flats, and a white peasant top w moss embroidery. Her makeup is natural with mossy green eyeshadow, and her hair is loose beachy waves. She’d come w alt heeled feet but both her shoes would be flat :0. She’s the mori girl we deserved but never actually got.

Corinne St. Germaine (cornflower blue): traveling all the way from Middle-of-Nowhere, Nebraska, Rainbow High is Corinne’s first interaction outside of her hometown’s sixty people. She’s not totally ignorant of the world though—she’s actually huge on the internet! Her fashion style has been dubbed Lolita Americana: gold rush pioneer outfits through a cute girly lens. Her first outfit is a cornflower blue pioneer dress with a knee length hem, high neck collar, long slightly puffed sleeves, and white apron, as well as lace knee high cornflower stockings, cornflower leather ankle boots, and a cornflower bonnet trimmed in white lace. Her second outfit is a cornflower wool coat, long cornflower wool skirt, and knee high cornflower riding boots. Her hair would have a soft wave and probably be in a half up style, and her makeup would be soft. In a perfect world she’s also got a parasol >:3

Leanna Royale (royal purple): Known for clothing real life royals and only the most fashionable celebrities, the prestigious House Royale has unveiled its latest stride into the fashion world: a daughter named Leanna. Raised from birth on fine art and livery, Leanna is a princess in all but political power. Her first outfit is a polished royal purple velvet pantsuit with a royal satin shirt and purple velvet heeled pumps. Her second outfit is a silk bejeweled minidress, royal purple bejeweled strap heels, and a royal purple fur stole. Her makeup is elegant and refined, complete with a royal purple lip. Her hair is long royal purple locs in an elegant updo, and yes: she has a tiara. She’s every bit of posh violet wishes she could be (/hj)

I’m gonna try and make these! Bases would probably be whatever I can find that’s cheap, though a good visualization I’m going on rn is based on the color create dolls (scarlet and mustard for green eyes, pumpkin and royal for purple eyes, cornflower and moss for blue eyes). Maybe I won’t go so far to do two outfits but I’ll try and at least make one for each :)