#zone bodice

[gogmstuff]

1770s portraits (from top to bottom) -

1771 Hester, Countess of Sussex, and Her Daughter, Lady Barbara Yelverton by Thomas Gainsborough (Toledo Museum of Art - Toledo, Ohio, USA). From Wikimedia.

1776 Charlotte Bettesworth (c.1755–1841), Mrs John Sargent by George Romney (Sudley House - Aigburth, Liverpool, Merseyside, UK). From bbc.co (now artuk.org).

1777 Margherita Sparapani Gentili Boccapadule by Laurent Pécheux (location ?). From tumblr.com/history-of-fashion/703331047465713664/1777-laurent-pécheux-margherita-sparapani; sized to fit screen 1010X1400 @72 464kj.

1777-1778 The Honourable Miss Monckton by Sir Joshua Reynolds (Tate Collection - London UK). From their Web site; removed spots throughout image with Photoshop.

Lady, said to be Marie-Madeleine Guimard by Jean-Frédéric Schall (auctioned by Christie's). From their Web site; there are too many spots to remove.

[a-twistedheartslonging]

So like i was just zoning out when suddenly my brain had a thought about That post you had about nonhuman au Leona headcanons and how he'd sit there waiting for you to hop on him cause he's used to the more aggressive and forward Savannah women. I just imagine him laying there peeved that you're not reenacting a bodice ripping scene with him and he's just like

">:[ my shirts unbuttoned and my ankles are out why are you not ripping my clothes off???"

Idk, my brain was half zoned out and it produced this thought and the idea of Leona, known local ass and machomacho sarcasm man utilizing the same mindset as a bodiceripper protag or victorian novelist, sent me into a fit of murmury cackling (i was trying not to do my usual gunshot level throw my head back cackle in the middle of nowhere so it got reduced to murmury chuckling)

That's pretty damn funny.

Like, he's actually kind of offended. 🤣 His meaty man tits are out and his ready to be ridden like the beast he is, why aren't you doing anything?

Oh gosh, him walking around shirtless, and when you look at him, he braces himself, expecting you to jump him like a freaky little sex monkey but you just blush and look away.

[kasagia]

right hand IV mini spoiler?🤭

One spoiler may be that I'm doing everything I can to get IV published this week, on Friday at the latest (and I'll probably do it, keep your fingers crossed for me). 😅🙈

But here is a fragment of part IV: 😈😈

(...)

"Yeah… he can be quite a pain in the ass." You nod, shifting your gaze to Feyd. He danced with Irulan. You try to ignore the pang in your heart, and without thinking much, you reach for two glasses, handing one to Fevas. The two of you make a quick toast, and you're relieved to feel the burning sensation of the alcohol masking the unexpected bitterness you feel.

"Well, since he's busy... will you allow me the immense honour of having my toes trampled by you?" You look briefly at the harpies, considering his proposition. It wouldn't hurt anyone if you will have a one dance with your old friend, right?

One of the harpies nods at you while the other two stare daggers at Irulan. And in that very moment, you decide that you will not allow yourself to become another of Na-Baron's harpies. You'd rather die than become the other jealous woman.

"I am better dancer than I used to be. You can get very surprised." You respond flirtatiously, offering him your hand. You giggle, rolling your eyes as he leans down and plants a kiss on it.

"Really? Impossible. The last time you danced with me, I had to go to a medic to heal my poor, trampled toes."

"And yet you still want to dance with me..." You reply teasingly as he leads you to the dance floor. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you a little too close to him for comfort. But neither of you care.

You think it's nice to feel seen and desired. It was certainly better to have a charming man like Fevas than to prop up the walls at a party. Sometimes being in the shadows bothered you. And even though Fevas was... too lively for you, right now you wanted to break out of your comfort zone for a moment. You knew he was perfect for this.

You didn't realise that the blue eyes of a certain Harkonnen were piercing your companion with a hateful look, which especially intensified when Fevas wrapped his arms tightly around your waist and leaned towards you to whisper in your ear.

(...)

"I think you've forgotten who I am to you, little witch. Say it."

"I… you are the Na-Baron." He hums dissatisfyingly, shaking his head at your response.

"Try again."

"Future Baron of Giedi Prime." Your answer was again unsatisfactory to him. You shiver as you feel him press the dagger against your chest, the tip of the blade playing with the strings holding the corseted bodice of your dress together. If he used a little bit of the dress, it would expose your breasts to his view.

"Don't play stupid, or I will punish you in front of everyone. And I wish that dirty, walking pile of muscles that had his hands on you didn't see me slapping your beautiful, little ass red. In fact, I'd rather be the only one enjoying this view, so be my good girl and tell me whose remains I'll throw to my harpies tonight?"

You hold your breath at his words. Feyd couldn't visit his harpies tonight. Not when they were supposed to be busy... getting rid of the baron's corpse. You think quickly, trying to find the best way out of the situation without condemning Fevas to a certain death. Feyd's intense, urgent gaze makes you blurt out words in an act of pure panic and thoughtlessness that you have probably never said to him before.

"No."

I hope you want more... 😊🩵🩵🖤🖤

[clarks-letterman]

𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧

a/n -- just a gender neutral, simple, and short smut for halloween! (so short, just haven't been in the zone lately) - happy halloween!

words -- 1.1k (verryyyy short)

warnings -- handjob (Johnny receiving), bad dialogue/ooc (maybe, wrote it as all Johnny Cage's applicable)

~~~

“Johnny.” You censured, eyes laying on him as he walked into the common area of his mansion. The size made it hard to tell where the line of each room ended and began.

He could tell where your disapproval laid, “You said I either have a thick skull or a tiny brain.”

You didn’t say those exact words last night. It was no secret that Johnny was a big spender, even when he lacked the money to afford a shining quality like that. The night before his big halloween party, and his chain of other parties left this one unplanned, so he splurged on decorations and booze that, thankfully, wasn’t as old as Mileena. You had told him that he either had a thick skull or thought with his dick. And now, he stood before you in a cheap halloween costume.

“So your answer to that is… this?” Your hand flagged him from the neck down, where his body was covered in a full-bodysuit made of shrunken wool that hugged his every inch. Thin vinyl was plastered over it to replicate a cartoonish version of the skeletal system, like he was getting an XXX-ray. His upper body was fine, and surprisingly clothed unlike his previous record of annual exposure. Just south of his torso is where the trend continued this year, an extra piece of fabric made for his dick to fill out was apparent as the rest of his costume funneled down his legs and to his feet. Almost like a onesie, but nothing less than explicit. Was he seriously going to walk around like that at his own party? At least he wouldn’t have to ask for someone to hold his beer as he would have an unsteady walking-shelf to set it on that sprouted off his waist. Black may be slimming, but it could never hide his beast.

“I got a matching doctor costume and it was buy one, get one. No extra expense.” He waved it off, suggesting that it was no big deal. After last night, he had no clue if you were ready to leave Cage alone in his mansion or stick with him through another seasonal spending spree. 

“Guess that’s it then. Johnny Cage is getting an exam.” You patted the printed sternum of his bodice, right about where his upper-chest would be. The notion ushered out a form of tension squeezing around Johnny’s lungs. Something the X-ray couldn’t find and something your watchful eye couldn’t discern.

He tittered on the first few syllables, “Gnarly movie title.” One thing about Johnny was that he didn’t act like he had something to hide.

“Just don’t let it be a horror flick.” You still couldn’t shake the fact that he wanted to watch Invasion of the Body Snatchers right after extra-terrestrial visitors had come to his home.

“I was thinking horror-comedy with a surprise cameo—me!” Johnny hurried out of the room and noisily cleared off the decorations on his marble-white kitchen counter by shoving them to the floor. He saw you follow in his steps at a slower pace, eye’s going from him to the scattered decorations all over the floor. “I know, I know. I’ll clean it up after.”

“I never said I was mad,” you started to jump the gun and make an assumption. Maybe Johnny should have handed you a prop gun and uniform from one of his old buddy-cop movies given how trigger-happy you were, “It just means I get to see that ass after we deal with this.”

Your hands found purchase with something else to squeeze, though. His thighs, lanky yet toned, made the fabric wrapped around them look uncomfortably tight. It was the most apparent on his boner, acting like a cock sleeve, or better yet, a black and white sock that was the typical cum-dump for someone of Johnny’s mental age. 

“So, you said you were having some discomfort?” You let your hands ghost over him, pretending to feel around and find the source of his issue.

“Yeah, Doc. All my skin is gone and so are my organs and my… everything.” His hands took ahold of yours and guided you directly to his crotch, as if they had strayed to far and he needed to put them on the right path.

The hint was clear, so you quickly grasped his half-hard dick. Each pulse in your hand made it firm up even more. “Well, there’s something here… like, it’s blood… rushing.”

“What’s the diagnosis?” He feigned a wince and looked away, ready to hear the impetuous calumny.

“That you’re super dead… and maybe decapitated.” 

“Give me some relief in the afterlife?” He said weakly, reaching up to grab your arm. 

You giggled, trying to keep it under wraps and not break character. “Johnny, what’s the plot of this?”

“Just give me my peace…” He controlled his voice so that it slowly faded away and his eyes shut with camera-perfect timing, one peeping open to see your reaction a moment later as if it was your cue to speak up.

You laughed it off, choosing to not convolute the plot anymore and giving the skeleton his last wish. That was the best this a fake doctor-spouse could do for their partner, after all. Your hand hadn’t left the hold on his cock, feeling it practically burn against your skin, even through the cheap wool and vinyl. Johnny must not have been wearing anything under this bodysuit, since his face contorted as you jerked his shaft up until the tip. The unseen mushroom head was sensitive on the flat side, so you let the cloth and pressure against it do most of the work to rile him up.

It seemed to work and Johnny was undone within minutes. His back arched away from the cold marble he laid on, then his hips followed in a similar direction. Going up, he forced himself into the palm of your hand until the base hit the entrance of the tunnel your fingers formed around him. Something that physically and emotionally separated the two of you brought you closer, and Johnny got off on that idea more than seeing his own reflection. 

Johnny’s hips kept bucking once the dam had burst. Glossy white percolated through the fabric and dribbled down the length of his covered shaft. As his desperation pushed him to the edge, he thrust himself into the air one more time, and the fabric had stretched enough for it to tear at the tip.

“Guess the party’s cancelled? No halloween costume means…”

“Well… I lied, earlier. It was a two for one, so I got four.”

[operafantomet]

FAVE CHRISTINE COSTUME 2023: Aminta

Amy Manford, Restaged Aussie Tour: Apart from the UK versions always offering great tailoring and fit, especially in the zone-front waist: I really appreciate the golden apron and the huge red flower in her hair.

Kayleigh Marven, Restaged Aussie Tour: Same, really.

Emilie Kouatchou, Broadway: All the fringe, all the embroidery, all the beauty. So rich-looking. I can't believe they sold this one after Broadway closed.

Song Eun Hye, South Korea: Technically a UK dress, but OH! so pimped. Very red and pink decorations in the front bodice, continuing into the apron, a lot more black fringe and gold trims, and that surprising peach/golden lace in bodice front and on the sleeves. And aaaaah! A red rose in her hair. This dress is so much, but also very consistent in look. I am fascinated.

(original design by Maria Bjørnson)

[9haharharley1]

Making THIS a separate post because I want to continue it and make it a proper oneshot

---

What if Sephiroth saw?

What if their minds do the thing and senses where Cloud is what he's doing, and goes to the Honey Bee, and he finds Cloud dancing on stage? Watches him get a makeover? The jealousy and possession he would feel as Andrea dances with him, touches him, compliments him, calls him beautiful; Sephiroth would have to fight back a murderous rage because he can't act, he can't reveal himself, it's too soon!

But he knows Cloud senses him, he sees how he tenses on stage, looks around the room, his guard up, not just because he's suddenly in a dress and way out of his comfort zone, but he knows something is wrong, someone is there, and while Aerith goes out the front to wait for Cloud, Cloud sneaks out back, on guard but without his gear, without his sword, only to be snatched up by strong arms, shockingly gentle because of what he's wearing

The man behind him doesn't want to ruin his new outfit, doesn't even want to press the smaller man into the wall for fear of staining the dress with the grime of Wall Market, its bad enough he had another man's hands on him while in he club, but Sephiroth can remedy that now. His touch is soft, far gentler than he has ever recalled handling anything in his life, but Cloud isn'tjust anything. And the other man clearly hates it, struggles in his arms as much as the dress will allow, which isn't much, and Sephiroth laughs, low and deep, and the body thrashing against him stills.

Cloud's voice is small and fearful as he mutters, "Sephiroth?"

"What have we here?" Sephiroth murmurs, and his breath is hot on Cloud's ear, tickling his skin. Cloud shivers, and Sephiroth chuckles. His hands smooth over the bodice, a groan building in his throat, but he doesn't release it. Cloud is tense in his arms.

"You're not here." Cloud says quietly, and it sounds like ne's trying to convince himself. "You're not here. You're not seeing this."

There's a smirk on his lips as he keeps running his hands over smooth silk. "Are you embarrassed, Cloud?"

"You're not really here. You're not here... Cloud keeps muttering, over and over, a blush on his painted cheeks. Sephiroth purses his lips. His puppet has his eyes squeezed shut, hands clasped tight in front of him, like if he doesn't touch Sephiroth, then he's not really there.

But Sephiroth won't be ignored. Not by his little puppet.

"You look lovely,' he says into Cloud's reddened ear. He has half a thought to take his gloves off, to feel if the bodice is made of satin or silk, but he is hard-pressed to even remove his hands from where they're rubbing all over. Cloud is rigid in his arms, eyes squeezed shut. He gasps when Sephiroth moves his hands further down, his own flying up in an effort to avoid touching him back, leaving them to hang awkwardly in the air. The long skirt bunches under his palm, Cloud taking in a shaky breath, and Sephiroth can't help but turn his head when Cloud turns his face away, pressing his nose to that pale neck, inhaling. Cloud is wearing some sort of perfume, sweet and rosy, and Sephiroth licks up the long line of his neck.

Cloud gasps. "You're not real'

"Oh, I don't have to be real, Cloud," Sephiroth murmurs, breath hot on Cloud's ear, the man gasping and shaking beneath his hands. "All I have to do is touch you-" he licks along the lobe of that flushed ear as his hand gropes the blond through the long skirt, Cloud barely managing to stifle a startled moan as a lacy, gloved hand grabs his wrist, "and your every cell cries out for my attention."

Cloud's hand on his wrist is firm, grip tight, and had Sephiroth been a normal human, unenhanced and inferior like the rest of the insects skittering around outside the alley, then maybe Cloud would have succeeded in pulling him away. Had he not been fearful if dirtying the dress he worked so hard to procure to save his little friend, he may have fought back, and Sephiroth could partake in the pleasure of his anger and distress.

But unfortunately for Cloud, Sephiroth is, and has always been, superior, and Cloud's shame and fear tastes just as sweet.

"Oh?" There is a hint of mania in his voice as he feels his puppet stiffen under his hand. He presses his smirk to Cloud's neck, nuzzling aside a braid to lick flushed skin. "Are you enjoying this Cloud?"

A strangled sound escapes Cloud, both his hands now trying to shove Sephiroth away. Sephiroth wraps his other arm tight around Cloud's waist, pulling him flush to his body. A harsh breath rushes out of Cloud, one hand letting go of Sephiroth's wrist. Sephiroth's fondling is gentle, or as gentle as he knows how to be - a distant memory, at best - his strokes light and almost teasing as Cloud plumps up under his fingers.

"Stop..." Cloud murmurs, not quite a plea yet, so Sephiroth bites the back of his neck and earns a gasp in response.

---

Needs to be cleaned up because it started as a random stream of thought, but if I have one kink, then it's boys in skirts against their will!

[happy-beeeps]

Jumping on the band wagon since I’m a massive TCW fan and found your account! Hear me out

What about reader having to dress up for a dinner meeting and Rex sees them in a dress for the first time? 💃🏻

Anon, I adore you. This was so fun to write. Fair warning, I absolutely blacked out the first part of this request and it's definitely not a dinner meeting, but I feel like the vibes still work, I'm so sorry!😭 This was so fun to write though omg

Lucky Hand

Summary: When reader goes to Cantonica to find a Separatist arms dealer, Rex reacts to seeing her dressed to impress for the first time

WC: 1.4k

Warnings: Alcohol mentions, reader gets her thigh touched by a weirdo but that's it I prommy, Rex is not saving room for the holy spirit but it stays PG-13, no editing because I haven't before so why start now

* * *

This isn’t the worst plan Anakin’s ever had, but that isn’t saying much. It’s also not the worst plan you’ve ever had, so that gives you slightly more comfort. It’s simple, in theory. There’s a separatist arms dealer who frequents the sabacc table at Canto Bight. You are supposed to slip in, get his attention, and hopefully some intel. You’re prepared to meet resistance, but you’ve been assured it won’t come to that. Still, you don’t know how you’re supposed to access your saber in this dress, maker forbid it comes to that, or how you’re going to get access to this arms dealer in the first place. Anakin can sense your discomfort as you enter the room, picking at the sheer, glimmering fabric as you walk, willing it to stop clinging to your body for just a moment so you can pull yourself together.

“Where does Senator Amidala even wear this?” you mumble, grateful that the Senator had a dress she didn’t mind donating to the cause, but you wished she had sent you with something a little less revealing. The skirt is full and floaty, with layers of sparkling sheer fabric dyed in a rainbow of blues and greens. The bodice sweeps off the shoulder into two sheer long sleeves that clip around your fingers, but is centered around a plunging neckline that cuts nearly clear to your belly button. It’s through the will of the force alone that you haven’t had a wardrobe malfunction just from walking. 

“Yeah, I was gonna ask the same question.” Anakin grumbles before walking over to you and placing a firm hand on your shoulder. “Snips and I are behind you the whole time, we’re going to keep a close perimeter to Canto Bight once you touch down on Cantonica.”

“Remind me why we can’t send you on this mission?” You grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. You try not to blush when you feel Rex’s force signature shift from where he’s standing across the room, your Captain’s stoicism failing him in ways only you can see.

“Because, frankly, I’m too distracting, we can’t have everyone in the casino offering to buy me a drink.” Anakin chides, and you send an elbow into his ribs with a laugh. “Rex and Bubs are going with you as security. Figured they’re pretty much the only two without face tattoos, hopefully the guards will just think they’re brothers. You’ll take one of the transport ships we have on the Resolute.”

You swear you hear Bubbles snort from where he stands across the room, but the sound is soon silenced by a motion from Commander Leo.

“Ok, I think I’m ready.”

The small squadron that will be landing on Cantonica with you begins to prepare their weapons while Anakin pulls Ahsoka aside to find an ideal landing zone. You’re watching the chaos unfold from the back of the room when you feel a presence begin to enter your orbit. You say nothing, but slip out quietly, making your way down the hall until you pass by a small supply closet, ducking in without turning around. Just as you suspected, the door slides open a minute later, and you find yourself chest to chest with Rex, breathing heavily as he takes you in in the cramped space.

“Mesh’la” he breathes, reaching out towards your face before you intercept his hand, catching it, and placing it on your waist. 

“It took me and Ahsoka nearly a full hour to do my hair, can’t have you ruining it Captain.” 

“Wanna ruin more than that,” he breathes, his eyes focusing on your perfectly painted lips, but shakes himself out of it, holding you firm on your waist. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you dressed up.”

“I think this is one of the only times I’ve been all dressed up.” You can’t say you hate it, both the way you feel and the way his eyes burn as they devour your form. “Are you ready for the mission?”

“It’ll be easy,” he shrugs, cooling off back into the casual nonchalance Rex always has. “You’re good at negotiations,” he taps your hip where your saber is carefully guarded beneath layers of expensive silk.

“I’m not worried.  I’ve got you and Bubbles to back me up.” You shrug and Rex laughs a quiet, breathy laugh.

“Kid’s got spunk, I’ll give him that.” But he looks at you fondly, placing his pointer finger and your chin and tracing your bottom lip with his thumb. “I trust him.” He backs away from you too quickly, and you barely suppress the sigh that threatens to escape your lips as he ducks out the door. “Follow me out in a few minutes.”

* * *

So, it wasn’t entirely going wrong. You were able to get in with Rex and Bubs, and quickly located the arms dealer, a Theelin man with bright purple skin and coiffed blue hair. Bubs quickly broke away under the guise of getting you a drink, and Rex maintained a close detail, just as any security agent would. The casino was busy, you were able to float through with near anonymity, and you quickly sidled up the man sitting at the sabacc table, placing your handful of credits next to his. “Can a girl get dealt in?” you crooned, and the man gave you a wide grin before moving his chair to the side. 

“For a beauty like you, I’d nearly offer my hand.” He said, and you could feel Rex start glowering from where he stood a few feet back. “I’m Grafan Thif.” He extended his hand and you shook it delicately. 

“Amila Shula,” you smiled, offering him the pseudonym you’d landed on. “Let’s play.”

The mission had been going well, Grafan had been slowly letting on intel the whole night as you followed him through the casino, your hand loosely through his arm. The two of you settled at a quiet table near the patio, he looked at you, his eyes barely focusing from the drinks he’d consumed. “You should come with me, see my new vacation home.”

“Oh?” Your eyebrows rose, and Rex and Bubbles stood straighter, listening to his words, “Where are you going to take me?” 

“Got a new job on Agamar, some backwater system, overseeing a new factory out there.” His hand began to slide up your thigh over your dress and you tensed, trying to urge him to stop as his hand grew closer to your saber.

“Sir, if I may-” Rex stepped forward, his face a blend of calm and barely concealed jealous rage when Grafan’s hand grazed the shape of your saber beneath your dress.

He glanced at you, then at your two guards and his eyes grew wide, as if he was connecting all the pieces. “You, you-”

“Are leaving.” You hoisted your dress up to grab the saber out from where it hung around your hip, gesturing for Rex and Bubbles to follow. The three of you ran towards the patio as Grafan shouted for security, and you pressed the concealed comm on your bracelet to reach Anakin. “We’ve got company!”

“Already on it!” came his reply, and as the three of you ran down the stairs, you were greeted with the always reassuring sight of the Twilight near crashing onto the beaches of Cantonica. 

“Are you waiting for an invitation!” Shouted Ahsoka as the ramp lowered, and the two troopers rushed towards the ship.

“This karking dress!” You grumbled, a few feet behind them as the security team scrambled down the steps. Rex turned around and saw you fumbling with removing the shoes and ran towards you, picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder in one fell, seamless beat. “I don’t need to be rescued.” You grumbled, pulling out your saber and deflecting the blaster fire that now approached you.

“Yeah, I know. Been looking for an excuse to hold you since that sleemo touched you earlier.” His hands gripped you tighter and you couldn’t help but grin as he brought you both on the ship, setting you down gingerly as Bubbles helped Ahsoka and Anakin pilot their way out of the atmosphere. Rex gave you one more wicked grin before whispering in your ear. “Think Senator Amidala would notice if you never gave the dress back.”

You winked back at him before giving his arm a pat, “I’m sure I can think of more excuses to wear it.”

[dollsorwhatever]

2023 Ariel Restyles

These girls took me nearly three months to finish lol What started as a very simple attempt to redress my 2023 Ariel dolls in nicer outfits turned into an annoyingly expensive 3-month project in which I purchased multiple Ariel dolls, outfits, accessories and tons of sequins and pearls and repainting supplies in order to construct what I imagine a set of 2023 Ariel dolls would look like if they had the same budget, design team and quality of early-mid 2000's Mattel Disney dolls lol Literally so much fucking text below the cut because I couldn't help but explain every minute aspect of my decision making for these dolls like anyone cares!!!!

Mermaid Ariel is wearing a lot of different pieces combined together; my desire for this set was for them to look and feel like they had been manufactured and released by Mattel, so I pulled a lot of elements shared between various mermaid Ariel dolls that they've made over the years and combined them to look like a natural continuation of what they had been doing prior to 2016! Her tail comes from the 2008 Ariel and Friends gift set but has been given a few extra details that were heavily inspired by Forever Hair Ariel from 2004, the bra is from a hasbro Ariel but was altered to fit the Mattel body (and once again has details added to match the tail), and the starfish clip is from the 1997 Ariel and baby Sandy set with the addition of some extra shell sequins in a slight homage to the 2003 Charming Princess Ariel doll's hairpiece. The purse is from the 2023 Getting Ready Ariel doll but has been painted purple to match the rest of her outfit; this piece took the longest because I had to spray it with a base (Mr Hobby Base in White) in order for the acrylic paint to adhere which is something I have NEVER done before and felt incredibly daunting to even attempt (thank you for the help John!!!) but I finally got the courage to try and it worked out perfectly! I was originally dead-set on using real sculpted accessory parts from actual Mattel dolls to construct the embellishments on her outfit because Mattel will rarely use pre-made sequins and buttons for their dolls, but eventually I came to the conclusion that it's not too far out of the realm of possibility and I would be better off creating something that is evocative of factory-made dolls and has the right balance of colors and fabric than it would be to make a less cohesive outfit with a bunch of mismatched sculpted parts that don't look like they were made by the same person. If she were an actual release by Mattel, I think she'd either just be called Deluxe Mermaid Ariel or maybe Magic Pearls Ariel if she were a gimmick doll (perhaps with a color change gimmick on the pearls, hairclip and purse?) lol Some photos of the Ariel dolls that inspired me (Forever Hair obviously being the biggest inspo):

Pink Dress Ariel is a lot simpler but actually took the most work and took me the furthest out of my comfort zone when it comes to skill; her dress comes from the 2006 Glitter Princess Ariel doll but has been heavily embellished to look more 'deluxe playline', the peplum was gathered for a little more volume at the waist, pearls added to the waist, hem and collar and the darts on the front of her bodice were tightened to fit the bust on 2023 body more. Pink Dress went through the most trial and error because I couldn't figure out what to use for her tiara or the embellishments on her dress, but I eventually settled on sequins and pearls to match the Mermaid doll because I felt it would give the impression that they were designed as part of the same collection (and it also just looked the best out of everything else lol) Her tiara is from the 2023 Color Splash Ariel doll but was sprayed white and painted over with pearlescent white acrylic paint; I only painted it with one color because Mattel doll tiaras are rarely painted and the original Glitter Princess tiara is also one solid color. Originally I tried using a few Barbie tiaras that already came in the color I needed, but eventually came to the conclusion that she would only look right with an actual 2023 Ariel tiara lol Finally I gave her a choker (a very common design element with Mattel Ariel dolls that I really love) as well as the dinglehopper and shoes from the 2023 Getting Ready Ariel doll! Some photos of the Mattel Ariels that inspired me the most for her design (Glitter Princess is ofc the most obvious inspo):

As well as a bonus photo of her standing with my original 2006 Glitter Princess Ariel to show how the dress looked before all of my alterations:

(Glitter Princess didn't originally come with that choker but I had to give her one too lol)

For how deliberately playline-esque and simple these dolls are, it was honestly such a big project to put them together; I learned so many new skills through this project and it was a lot of fun to explore the elements that made the old Mattel Ariel dolls so special in order to combine them in a way that feels authentic, even if it results in a set of dolls that are purposefully lower-impact than a more elaborate custom would be lol

[soranihimawari]

Needle & Thread

An Azumane Asahi x reader short

Word count: 2.2k+

Rating:AAF (azumane asahi fluff)

Warnings: none, a little ooc moments from Sawamura & Suga//unspecified gender!// fluff

I just wanted to say perhaps Azumane having a crush is something I’d love to read about every once in a while. Also, this is how I think he hypes himself up mentally when yn is around

All was well in the home economics lecture hall at the community college you were attending this semester. The fashion course you had signed up for had been advertised as an introductory one and though you may have been one of the youngest designers among your peers, yet your desk mate was another student definitely from another part of your city.

You were always intrigued by both his designs as much as he was enamored with your use of unique materials when you had much simpler projects due. Perhaps it was your use of felt and wirework that inspired him to create an ornate jewelry set for that week and maybe he inspired you to create a three piece suit in hunter green and navy. You each had received praise from both your peers as well as the professor who hummed with a curt smile during the review.

Now, as the chimes on campus begin their late night tune to announce the hour, you settle into your seat and wonder about the young man whose seat has remained vacant for the second week in a row. It’s not like him to be absent, you wonder. Yet you recall him mentioning his volleyball team had won all necessary matches in their prefecture. Your professor drones on with the attendance list since art courses, especially design ones at that, where time is of the essence. Your sketchbook along with your personal tablet holds the keys of the past designs you had breathed into existence. As your attention is drawn back to the front of the classroom’s whiteboard, a singular word was written there: BIRDS.

The hell are we supposed to do with this? You think. Funnily enough, as you were zoning out, your hand had already picked up the stylus and you had already begun making several shapes that resembled crows’ feathers. The fact you remembered your deskmate had a little white crow plush on his sewing fabric bag to show ‘school pride’ must have been the silver lining when you continued to sketch a few more key components for the dress you will attempt to create.

An hour goes by and pretty soon you had a more refined sketch of the completed outfit. Your professor stops by your desk as you add a few more details thus tapping their index finger on the desk to announce their presence. You slower your stylus strokes of color to give your professor your undivided attention.

“Fascinating design as always,” they say.

“Thanks,” you reply. Holding up your tablet, you give a brief summary of the birds you chose to showcase with the completion of the project.

“Hmm… a crow and a pheasant, huh?”

“Yeah, I was thinking maybe adding some hints of sapphire satin or even amethyst tulle to the bodice…”

“Given your design, I suggest a more pliable fabric, but if sophisticated chic is what you were aiming for, try playing with nylon and pleather fabrics for those details,” was their advice.

You nod.

“By the way, y/n,” the professor pauses before moving on to the next workstation. “I heard Azumane-san’s team won against Inarizaki today. You ought to text him later.”

You feel the blush creeping up the back of your neck as you realize your professor’s intention on feeding you that intel. Your brain seems to have short circuited as you hear their voice give other advice a few work stations ahead. Nervously swallowing the pooled saliva in your mouth, you feign a cough as you shake your head side to side to reset your focus.

Class wraps up about twenty or so minutes later. On the train ride home, you decide to search the intramural results. There in the black white newspaper sports pages for the Tokyo City News you see the results from today’s match. You swipe that article away and immediately open your text message chain with Azumane, A.

It’s forty-five minutes post the Karasuno coaches’ “Light’s Out” call when suddenly Azumane’s phone lights up with your name flashing across the screen. He immediately picks up though the others the ace shares the room with suddenly scramble to take possession of his phone.

“Oh ho? Is that text from the illustrious y/n?” Sugawara wriggles his eyebrow.

“Or is it from your mom this time reminding you to buy her a souvenir?” Sawamura teases in a light hearted tone.

The fact Sugawara brings up your name so casually causes Azumane’s ears to sort of turn a magenta hue.

“And so what if it’s y/n?”

He unlocks his phone to read the texts you sent him. The first was fine:

-Y/L/N, Y. (23:13): Professor Z told me you had a game today. Missed having you in class tonight. Congrats on winning against Inarizaki! :]

His phone vibrates in his hands again after staring at your text for about five more minutes. There is something about your cheerful demeanor radiating over there words you sent that make Azumane’s face flush—perhaps when he returns to class he’d muster up the courage to ask you to walk home together. Maybe even pick up some hot cocoa at the combini near the train station by the college.

-Y/L/N, Y. (23:25): Been home for about an hour or so now. You must be tired. Is it too late to call?

“So, before you mentally shut down for the night Asahi,” Sugawara sits up on his mat with his arms crossed over his chest. “What did your crush say this time?”

“Suga!” Sawamura used his eldest sibling's tone this time thus forcing a playful yet sincere apology to come from the vice captain. “Ya can’t just blurt out facts like that aloud. I mean sure our Asahi is tall, devilishly handsome, and our charming ace finally has someone who caught his eye…”

“Y/N w-wants to call me,” Azumane’s voice is a mixture of excitement and nerves. It’s eerily similar to the first time he attended practice again in the dingy gym back on campus, yet glancing back to the way he was then versus now. He slides his phone in his pajamas pocket while reaching for his hoodie at the foot of his bed.

With an abrupt and politely uttered, “I’m headed out for a bit.” Azumane grabs his hoodie and slides the balcony door open. He slips on a pair on house slippers as well. Tokyo and the neighborhood they’re staying in seems to glow in the wintery haze. Once the door is closed behind him, Azumane taps his reply. He presses the green arrow only to be greeted with a delivered message under his reply. A couple minutes go by as the winter wind whistles through the barren tree branches in surrounding the hoteru when a familiar ringtone designated just for you reaches his ears.

Meanwhile, Sugawara and Sawamura updates the rest of the team of their ace’s latest installment rightfully dubbed by Yamaguchi: ‘love but make it fashion’. Even Kiyoko and Hitoka-chan were included in this team chat. Though by now most of the team had begun to drift off one by one prior to Azumane dialing your number.

Azumane breathes your name with a visible puff of air.

“Asahi,” there’s a cheerful register in your tired voice. It’s like a warm invitation to stay awake for a little while longer. “I’m surprised you’re still awake at this hour. Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?”

“Yeah, but I figured you could fill me in on what I missed in class today?”

“Oh,” you sound a bit disappointed. “Professor’s word today was BIRDS. It’s the theme for the next project.”

“Ah, I see.”

You hum into the receiver. “You played a really great game today. Saw some highlights on the late night sports recap on t.v. Almost makes me want to ditch classes tomorrow and cheer your team on, haha.”

He chuckles after regaining his composure because surely you’re flirting with him right now, yes? Absolutely.

“We play Nekoma next.”

You suppose it’s your turn to be a bit bold. A small smile tugs at your lips. You hear the wind whistling in the background.

“Is that an invitation I heard from my dear deskmate?”

���Yes.”

He hears you struggle with the sheets as you sit up bolt straight in your bed. A soft thud he imagines came from you clumsily hitting the back of your head on the wall by accident and a curse escapes your lips as you feel your heart beat increase.

“Smooth ass motherfucker,” you mutter through gritted teeth. “When do you play?”

Azumane on the other side leans against the railing trying to suppress his laughter. A few more minutes go by before your call ends with an open ended promise of attending the match in a few days time.

Come the morning, you awake with a bit of a headache. Your phone rests charging by the end table in your room along with a glass of water your parent typically leave behind before reporting for work. Across your bed on the wall located next to your computer desk is a rip off calendar themed with Chococat imagery. You realize you forgot to tear it off the night before, so as you mentally replay the conversation you had with your fashion course classmate, you hum blissfully to yourself until you pick up your phone with wide eyes.

“Oh shit!” you whisper yell into the air. “No way! It can’t be that late. Right? Arugh!”

Kicking off your sheets and tearing off the date off the calendar, you rush into the hallway to wash your face in the guest bathroom of your residence. Afterwards, you decide to dress rather quickly opting for the jeans and crew neck sweater along with a beanie to keep your ears warm when you leave. You knew attempting a day trip to Tokyo would be an ambitious endeavor, but if your parent can do it, so can you. You send a text quickly after sorting out a travel drawstring backpack complete with bottles of water, a few almond butter and jam sandwiches, your wireless headphones, your Canon AE-1 35mm camera, and external battery pack.

Leaving a note behind on the kitchen counter for your parent in case they would eventually blow up your phone like the first and last time you left for a day trip (to go shopping with materials at the beginning of the semester-long course) with a girl friend from your school.

The total amount of travel time to reach Tokyo, more specifically the sports arenas where the Intramural Spring Tournament for Volleyball was held, had been estimated to be a solid ninety-minute commute via trains. Apparently luck was on your side since most trains had been running on time. Renewing and purchasing the student monthly pass at the automated ticket kiosk had been a breeze and now you stand on the designated platform; you wonder if this rush of excitement and nerves will be as close as you’d ever feel to what Azumane felt when he (and by extension his team) walks on to the court. Once you arrive at your final stop (since your trip included two transfer trains), you walk off the up escalator and breathe the bustling capital city warming air. You see a sign for the local coffee haus: within a matter of fifteen minutes, you leave with a warmed bagel in a small brown bag and a cup of coffee. You follow a few cheerful students who came to cheer on their classmates; you figure you’re headed in the right direction when you bump into a voluptuous blonde who seems to have a very unique outfit despite the weather.

“Whoops, sorry miss,” you apologize as politely as you could.

The blonde raises an eyebrow at you as if to challenge you, then something changes in her demeanor as she extends her hand to you.

“You came to watch Karasuno beat Nekoma, right?”

You sip your coffee and nod. The bag with your bagel crinkles in your other hand.

“C’mon, I’ll take you to the arena where they’re playing. I’m gonna go cheer for my little brother,” she adds.

You bite into your bagel quickly before she calls out over her shoulder, “Tanaka Saeko. Call me Saeko-nei.”

“Y/L/N.”

The walk to the arena doors isn’t that far, nor is it too long. Saeko fills you in on what you had missed since the tournament began (or rather when she arrived with a few of the neighborhood ex-volleyball club members) to formulate the Karasuno cheer club. She had dubbed themselves that considering how the school was once considered powerhouse.

“Flightless crows?” you continue eating your bagel while pondering upon the insulting title. Saeko points to the banner hanging over the railing with the team’s motto: FLY. You crumple the now empty bag and toss it in the next trash bin while you still sip your beverage.

“Crows aren’t flightless creatures,” you mention to Saeko when she joins you in the second row of the bleachers. “They’re quite intelligent. Besides, a flock is known as a murder. How flightless were they?”

For once, the blonde remains quiet. She has a pensive look to her face, so much so that when other members of the neighborhood alumni come to join you two, one of them asks Saeko who you are.

“Oh, this is Y/L/N-san. They sort of bumped into me on the street on the way here, past the bakery. Mentioned they wanted to watch the match.”

“So you just tagged along?” the man with glasses and a kind smile asks. “Y’ know you shouldn’t really talk to strangers, haha.”

You shrug, mentioning that if it weren’t for his blonde friend you’d be even more lost and would probably be at the arena when a good chunk of the matches were done for the day. The man nods as he adjusts his glasses.

“I wanted to see what a classmate of mine does with his spare time. Attending fashion courses isn't cheap either,” you stick with the truth. “Besides, I go to a different school; one where a few of our sports team clubs were cut due to lack of funding. Unfortunately volleyball was one of them.”

“That’s awful, sorry to hear that,” the man continues. He turns to see Saeko busy conversing with another alum along with the rest of the drum line. “You want to sit here to stay a in the next section over? You might see your friend better from there.”

He points to the front row a few meters away close to the railing. It’s close enough to the side of the net where you would presume Azumane’s team would play.

Meanwhile, in the locker room provided for Karasuno today, an entirely different conversation was happening.

“Did Y/L/N contact you?” Nishinoya wonders.

“You better not freeze out there if you see ‘em,” Sawamura teases.

On the other side of the bench, two first years are having another tussle of words as well that had little and or nothing to do with trying to Azumane to calm down.

“Quit it boke!”

“You’re going to break my brain even more Bakayama!”

Azumane for the life of him decides to silence the room and his fellow teammates with a sharp squeak of confusion in a poor attempt to mask his incoming text tone. Funnily enough, though the majority of the club had already changed into their traditional ebony uniforms, hearing their ace squeak made them shut up rather quickly.

-Y/L/N, Y. (10:59): do your best. I know you and your team deserve to win, Azumane-san. Win or lose, you’re still an ace. [ : oh! And a damned good designer.

A strange sense of calm comes over Azumane when his shoulder receives a gentle yet affirming squeeze by Kiyoko who just nods with a small smile. Surely everyone knows of you, but considering how their friend currently stares at his sent reply to your message with a mere thumbs up emoji accompanied by a ‘Thenks’ line a child on the morning of their birthday, they knew they might need to cover for him for the first few plays of the match.

Lo and behold the telecasters begin their normal routine checks not too far from the court you’re standing above. The anchor men are having their microphones hooked on their lapels when a different chime to announce the hour goes off. You watch as both teams enter the court with to begin their warmup routines. It doesn’t take too long for you to open your bag to pull out your camera and watch as a few members of your classmate’s team take to the air to hit the airborne ball back over the net. Others on both sides of the court continue with their stretches. You snap a few photos here and there to test out the original settings, making adjustments as needed.

The game begins with a shrill call of a whistle. You hear the team chant and when you lower your camera for a split second, the player in the black jersey with a bright “2” on the front grabs Azumane’s attention; with a swift nod in your direction, your eyes meet briefly.

“Holy shit,” the ace who rarely curses suddenly becomes nervous all over again.

You just mouth out a quick “focus & excel,” with a raised fist.

And for once in his young adult life, Azumane Asahi chooses to embody the very definition of those words.

“Ready?” Sawamura asks him with a smirk.

“Let’s play,” Azumane chuckles preparing to receive the first serve of the match.

[gogmstuff]

Some 1790s (from top to bottom) -

1790s Lady by Rose-Adélaïde Ducreux (private collection). From tumblr.com/historical-fashion-devotee 1048X1600 @72 322kj.

1791 The Singer Rose Renaut by Antoine Vestier (Phoenix Museum - Phoenix, Arizona, USA). From tumblr.com/sims4rococo76; enlarged to screen 1027X1300 @72 357kj.

ca. 1795 or 1797 Alexandra Grigorievna Kozitskaya by Élisabeth-Louise Vigée-Lebrun (auctioned by Tajan). From tumblr.com/antiquelaceartist; fixed spots & flaws w Pshop 1263X1498 @72 1.1Mj.

1790s Woman (Miss Frances Winnicobe?) (Hermitage). From tumblr.com/artthatgivesmefeelings/690087093119188992/john-opie-cornish-1761-1807-portrait-of-a; fixed cracks, flaws, & spots w Pshop 1561X1999.

1790s Woman (Miss Frances Winnicobe?) by John Opie (Hermitage). From tumblr.com/artthatgivesmefeelings/690087093119188992/john-opie-cornish-1761-1807-portrait-of-a; fixed cracks, flaws, & spots w Pshop 1561X1999.

[86-babyy]

Santa, Baby

Eddie’s not a big fan of the holidays, you decide to lift his Christmas spirit. A no plot, absolutely filth of a Christmas fic.

Warnings as follows: Eddie!FemReader, Dirty Talk, P in V (unprotected), Slight bondage, Oral receiving (Female), Strong Eddie, Teasing and just complete filth.

Enjoy baby’s! 😘 Merry early Christmas.

It was the unmissable jingle that rang like a constant reminder, the easy to pick melody that was unmistakable as it bellowed through, the to cheerful music mixing with the crowded screams of adolescent kids and seemingly making the tune sound even more intolerable.

It was Christmas time and the small town of Hawkins was no longer quiet and reserved, it was the same every year. The streets lined with blearing bulbs of green and red, twisted and hung on every pole and shop front, parents over stuffing the back of their wagons with decorations and trinkets, hoping that if they moved the oversized candy cane that the half a dozen nutcrackers would seemingly fit, it was chaotic.

It wasn’t like Eddie hated Christmas, just the music. It started as early as November and was on a continuous loop until Christmas and it somehow made the school days even more unbearable.

Eddie were sprawled out along his bed, nestled between the array of pillows, nose deep in the latest magazine he had found beneath a stack of campaign notes upon arriving, by passing the obvious fact you weren’t here but he had figured you wouldn’t be to far behind— Caught up on homework, no doubt.

The dull hum of what sounded like chimes and dare he say bells strung the tune just below audible but sadly unmistakable as Eddie scanned the room around him, it was definitely there, he could hear it plain as day now, smacking him straight in the face.

Santa, baby, just slip a sable under the tree for me…

It made Eddie cringe. The shot through the nerves, grind your teeth kind of cringe and as the music drifted louder Eddie found himself curling in even more. People are seriously playing Christmas carols at this time of night? Eddie threw the magazine, colliding somewhere between his dresser and a pile of clothes, it was long past dark and though Eddie knew people were generally excited for the upcoming holiday, what he couldn’t spin his head around was the fact that someone would play it this late.

Been an awful good girl. Santa, baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight…

You knew how much Eddie wasn’t as fond of Christmas as other people, he wasn’t rude with it, never dragged his feet when you cascaded him around town to look at the displays people had done to their house or rolled his eyes when you decorated his bed frame with little rainbow lights, he even went as far as going Christmas shopping with you— Throwing out ideas with general interest.

So when you stopped into the mall on your way home and saw the red decorated set, white lace trimmed the edges of the underwear and cups of the bra, finished with a small tinkered bell clasped in the centre of the bodice— You had thought, maybe, there was a way you could lift his Christmas spirit.

That’s how you ended up sprinting back to his place before he came home, slipping into the barely there lingerie set, thigh high black stockings, your cheeks on full display from the little material covering the sparse of your ass, your tits pushed dramatically up your chest in an almost over spill of cleavage and hiding in the bathroom. Maybe, the music was a little far fetched, considering his resentment against the cheery songs but you couldn’t help yourself— It was fitting.

Santa, baby, a 54 convertible too, light blue. I’ll wait up for you dear…

You swayed into the doorway, arm perched against the frame as you rested the other on your hip— Leaning your weight onto one leg to emphasise the dip of your hip.

You would have laughed at Eddie’s expression if he wasn’t completely zoned out, his eyes wide, blown in perplexity and mouth barely hinged to his jaw, you could have sworn to see drool form in the corners of his mouth— Sat on the edge of his bed, arms mid raised in what you would have guessed to be annoyance.

Think of all the fun I’ve missed, think of all the fellas I haven’t kissed. Next year I could be just as good…

The lyrics mimicked the movement of your lips, syncing the words as you sauntered your way towards Eddie, your feet pointed on tip toes, you twisted in his lap. Slipping your backside down the front of his body, your ass falling into the dip of his parted thighs as your pressed your back to his chest— Head falling backwards to rest in the curve of his shoulder.

Heavy hands came to rest around your waist, the unmissable need digging into the soft of your hips as desperate fingers mark crescent shapes from dull fingernails drawing your ass to grind against the ever present hard on growing beneath you.

Lips connect to the open of your throat, teeth grazes the sensitive exposure of your jugular and pinches, his tongue swirling in motion as he sucks the soft of skin bleeding desperation from his mouth and stains your flesh. It’s ungodly and possessive the groan that vibrates from his chest, radiates and tracks goosebumps across your skin as he clampers harder onto your throat.

You’re trying your best. Keeping steady with your weight as your palms grip Eddie’s thighs, knees softening under the pressure as you helplessly grind your ass along with Eddie’s guidance— The thin material doing no favours in holding the growing arousal that left the front of the lace damp.

Eddie releases with a loud pop, your skin flushed in waves of pain from the purple markings already forming before you’re thrown backwards. Eddie twists you in his lap within seconds, hoisting you up and pinning you underneath him, the mattress bends at the pressure, your hands clasped in a firm hold above your head. Eddie’s knee is slipped between your thighs, the rough denim material rubs dangerously against your pussy with every subtle move.

“Well, look at you, baby.”

It’s salacious the way he speaks, each word drawn and low, gravely from his chest and it has your stomach in knots. He’s eyes are roaming every surface, every exposed sparse of skin, trailing the detail of pattern of your bra— Soaking in every inch of your image.

It leaves you slightly exposed, the underlying possessive gleam lingering in his blown out irises but it makes your core coil, your skin flush in excitement— Your pussy throb that lingers with a almost painful hum.

Santa, baby, I want a yacht and really that’s not a lot. Been an angel all year…

The song continues in a low chime through the background as you suck your bottom lip between teeth, chestnut curls curtin his face and tickle the bare of your chest. He’s absolutely gorgeous.

“I wanted to cheer you up a bit, show you that it’s not all bad.”

He tilts his head, ears pricked as he catches the tune playing softly in the background— It spreads slowly the smile that creeps across his face, half amused and half devious.

“I’m impressed.” He dips his head, hums into the curve of your throat. “And this outfit.”

He nips softly but enough to pinch the skin making you squirm slightly.

“I’m definitely in the holiday day mood now. Fuck.”

He releases your hands, his grip softens as he trails hot hands down the curve of your frame, fingertips tracing every line past your chest and sides— Settles to rest underneath your ass. Your first instinct is to reach for him, grab onto the broad of his shoulders and pull him in, desperate for more but he slyly slips away— Leaves you bare as he steps away from the bed.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this.” He’s grinning now, mischievous, as he trails around the bed. “I must have been a good boy.” He laughs quietly at the irony.

He dips his head, leans back over you, hot breath trails along your skin like wildfire when he whispers in your ear.

“Or a very bad one.”

Your body shivers, thighs squeezing shut in need and desperation to ease the throbbing pulse, your chest heaves in uneven jolts, expanding the mounds of your breasts beneath the bodice— Eddie notices.

“But the best part is unwrapping the present.”

It tickles at first and you barely notice it, to hung up with Eddie’s face lingering beside yours to realise he’s untwisted the string of rainbow lights from his bed frame, now twirling them around around your wrist. You crook your neck, look upwards when Eddie moves away— He’s circling the coloured lights around your right wrist, loops it back and wraps around the corner pole of his bed. He watches, gazes your reaction silently before walking to the other side, mirroring his actions and bounding the left side.

Beams of red, blue, green, yellow decorate your skin, the glow spreading down your arms in a array of mixing colours and lighting the flush of pink underneath. You’re quick to realise Eddie had wrapped you up, like his very own personal Christmas gift and it had your whole body reeling in anticipation.

“So fucking pretty.”

Eddie’s eyes shimmer against the lights, specks of rainbow glint in his glassy vision as he drawls you in, the flashing colours making a show against his bedroom walls— You ease your thighs apart, slowly. Legs cascading to side as you pull your knees apart, legs spread wide as you follow the path down your body— Watching Eddie between your open legs.

The sight is absolutely beautiful, the way Eddie crawls across the room, on his bed and between your legs. Hands incase your thighs, he nips along the material of your stockings, teeth threatening to tear— Stops when he reaches the bare of your thighs.

“Eddie.”

It’s from pure libidinous and ache the way your voice cracks, the neediness that seeps through the lines and begs him for more contact.

Eddie takes his time, you watch as he savours the growing want lingering between you both, smirks in to the soft of your thigh. The intake of air hitches in your throat, the loss of moisture as he sucks your skin between teeth, groaning against skin when he releases, edging closer to your core. You feel his grip tighten, your thighs held steady as he nuzzles your pussy.

“Fuck, Eddie.”

His breath creeps through the sheer material, hot and heavy. He mouths you through the lace, your hips meeting half way as you chase the friction. Your pussy hums in recognition when you feel his hands trail higher, fingers curl around the waist of your underwear on both sides, your parted legs leave little room and Eddie’s quick to twist and pull— Splitting the thin material in shreds as the band of your thong snaps.

Hands caress your hips, fingers sink into the dips and hold you down when he runs a flat tongue along the sparse of your pussy, the contact instantly has your back lifted, arched perfectly when he circles your clit. He works lazily, takes his time when he sucks the bud softly— Flicks his tongue when you moan louder. Your blood feels like rapid water igniting your nerves with every swirl of Eddie’s tongue, to far gone in the feeling when Eddie slips a finger inside, the intrusion making your walls clench as he works your clit.

“Fuck, yes Eddie. Don’t stop.”

Your wrists struggle against the hold, bright colours bounce of the walls with tension every time you squirm. It’s chaotic bliss the way your mind slips into a foggy daze of incoherent thoughts and words as your stomach coils with the all to familiar feeling, the heavy pressure releasing with the last pumps of Eddie’s fingers.

“Jesus, you taste just as good as you look, sweetheart.”

He’s got two fingers, knuckle deep, placed inside his mouth and all you can do is watch as his tongue dips and swirls, sucking your cum and slick straight from them, savouring the taste with one last pop before removing them completely.

Slumped between your thighs, somehow his smile looks ever more dangerous from this angle, he peppers kisses along your skin and laughs softly when they twitch.

“Mm. I’m only half done unwrapping my present.”

It’s audible the gasp that slips out and passed your lips and Eddie all but smirks at the notion, crawling up between your thighs to lean over you, arms splayed beside your waist.

In one swift motion, Eddie reaches behind him, grips a handful of material and effortlessly slips it over his shoulders and head— A curtain of curls follow suit, leaving the strays still damp to cling to the dip of his temples. His shoulders glisten in a thin sheen of sweat, beads pool at the dips of his collar bones— The bursts of colours dance across his chest, highlights the lean muscle underneath.

He dips his head, lips make contact to the bare of your stomach, soft and gentle. It makes you shift slightly, the feather feel of touch exposing your senses, teases the hair on your arm to stand. It’s like electricity, each perfectly placed kiss, sparks fire that lingers with a subtle burn behind them. Hasty hand’s follow the detail of pattern across your bra, feels like curve of the cup as it cradles your breasts before he gives the bell clasped in the middle a gentle flick.

“Cute.” He hums to himself, a lop sided grin plays the corners of his lips.

“I really hate to do this, sweetheart.” It’s half genuine, half sarcastic and you’re full confused. You watch him huff a laugh, lips perked dangerously as you try to clue in what he is trying to say.

“But the best part is when you get to tear the wrapping paper off, right?”

It doesn’t register, not really, not until it’s to late and Eddie’s strong grip has a hold of your bra— Right in the middle.

Fuck, no. He wouldn’t.

You tried to protest, reason that it wouldn’t work, even though the material had only been a flimsy see through lace, it wouldn’t, couldn’t.

Your chest heaves slightly, the pull of tension cuts softly before it’s released. The bodice torn straight down the middle, the bell flown somewhere out of sight but you hear the tinker as it rebounds from a solid surface. Your tits bounce from the restrain, perk from the brisk exposure to the open air and Eddie looks pleased with himself, gleaming down at the bare of your chest— Naked, nipples hard from the contact and he looks like a damn kid in a candy store.

“Jesus, Eddie.”

You couldn’t even try to be mad. Your breathy response and the way your thighs instinctively tightens around Eddie’s waist, gave it all away.

Smooth, when he cups your breasts, both hands squeeze gently— Massaging the mound of your breasts. His tongue darts out, runs along his bottom lip before slipping a nipple between them,

It sucks the air from your chest, the way his tongue plays with harden bud, his latter toying between fingers.

“Oh, fuck. Eddie.”

His curls drape your chest, hides his face but yours is to far back, pressed into the pillow as he switches to the other side— His tongue roaming, sucking, teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

You feel his hips work, grind against your bare pussy, his groans vibrating through you as he mouths your nipple. You wish you could reach down, pull him up, but all you can do is beg.

“Eddie, please. I need you. I want to feel you.”

And it’s enough for him to settle with a small kiss to your breast before leaning back on his heel— Your legs slip beside him. He shuffles from his jeans, follows suit with his boxers and resumes his kneel between your legs.

He’s painfully hard. His head rolls back when he grips the base, squeezes softly before guiding his palm along his shaft. You suck your bottom lip between your teeth, watch as he fucks into his hand, the gleaming head shiny with precum. He locks eyes with you and you swear you feel his vision baring right to your core. He’s moaning, his torso flexes under the movement and his cock glides into his palm.

“You get me so worked up, sweetheart.”

He runs a thumb across the head, his thighs shiver, and he runs a hand through his mane, slicks it the best he can from his face.

“Looking so fucking irresistible. That outfit, fuck. Seeing you like this.”

He’s pumps his cock, fucking steady into his hand.

“That perfect pussy, Christ.”

He releases his cock, bends and hooks a leg over his shoulder, it’s sudden and catches you off guard, you gasp when his cock softly presses to the folds of your pussy. He watches you carefully, your fists balled in anticipation when he edges inside. Each inch stretches and fills you out, moulding perfectly around the girth of his cock.

“Jesus, fuck.”

You can’t help it when he bottoms out, hips pressed firmly to your ass and it’s ever more tantalising when he drawls back, his length tracing your walls. One hand is hooked around your thigh, the leg over his shoulder— The latter rests at your hip.

“Uh, fuck. Fucking tight as ever, sweetheart.”

He picks a pace, it’s lengthy and quick. Drawing his cock almost out before slamming back in, paying attention to catch every sensation. It’s a mess, the slick sounds escaping and mixing with the humid air around you, it’s skin on skin, smacking and crashing in pure ecstasy.

“Oh, god, Eddie. Don’t stop!”

“There, baby.” He pulls back, thrusts back in relentlessly and hits the sweet spot up inside. “Right there, huh. Like this.”

“Yes, fuck, right there Eddie.”

Your thighs shake, the impending pressure spreading across your core, your body tight in pure pleasure, sinking further as he fucks you harder into the mattress— Springs squeak, the headboard matching the thumping from his thrusts.

“That’s it sweetheart, feels good, fuck, when I’m buried inside you. Look at that pretty face, all fucked out for me, huh.”

It’s absolutely primal the way Eddie growls, dips down and buries his face into the crook of your neck, sucking and biting spots of red and purple.

“Just like, fuck, Eddie!”

Your knees are pressed to your chest, Eddie linking your other leg up over his shoulder somewhere in the process. Your ass is now bouncing, rebounding from the mattress from the force Eddie’s fucking you, driving his cock further, deeper.

“Eddie, I can’t, fuck, Eddie I’m going to—“

He’s groaning against your throat, breath hot as it seeps across your flushed skin, sweat pools at your temples and your toes start to curl— You feel the stark white heat flush from your legs, creep up and consume your body, straight to your core.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Cum for me. Let me feel your drench my cock, Jesus Christ.”

It comes in waves, your pussy contracting around Eddie’s pumping cock, when you clamp down around him. Bursts of heat prickles your skin, sends your blood rushing in peak as you come down hard, your orgasm being fucked to overstimulation before you feel the swell of Eddie’s own cock— His thrusts waver.

“Oh, fuck, Y/N, fuck.”

Eddie releases and spills inside you, his balls pressed tight against your ass as he thrusts the lasts of his own orgasm out, cock kept buried deep. You feel his throb, his cock twitches when he softens— Pulls out gently and mumbles into your throat.

“Jesus, Y/N.”

He huffs a small laugh, guides himself from above you and leans over. Untwists the decorated lights from around your wrists, rubs them smoothly before pressing his forehead to yours— A half lopped smile plays on his lips.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” You whisper.

“Merry fucking Christmas, sweetheart.”

[umbylievable]

Thinking about my batman au again.

Bruce and the joker at their first gala together. Bruce trying to give statements to the press about the efficacy of reform programs and the joker in his ACAB gown is behind him observing the commissioner. Sees Jim frown at him and promptly decides to make it worse. Grabs Bruce's arm "come on, let's dance!!" and with surprising strength for his skinny frame, pulls Bruce away from the press and onto the dancefloor

They're doing a simple waltz and the joker is humming along to the band and Bruce is absolutely baffled. "Why do you know how to do this?" "Dance? No idea" "you can't remember?" "Nope. Sometimes I think in my past life I was an engineer or something. Sometimes I think I was always a criminal. And sometimes I think I was some loser with a shit job like valet who couldn't get his life together. I don't know which one is true. Maybe all of them. Maybe none of them." "...that must be difficult for you" "nah I think it's fun! I get to be someone else every single day! Might even make another one up and see if I can make myself misremember it! The possibilities are endless!" "That's,, I don't know what that is" "Oh come now Batsy. You want to be someone else sometimes. Why else would you be here?" "Excuse me?" "We both know who you really are. This is all facade. It's glitzy. Ooh maybe in my new past life I'll have been a rich boy like you. I'll say my parents died in some kind of tragic incident and--" Bruce squeezes his hand uncomfortably hard "shut. Up." "Touchy! As if tragic backstories are just for you"

The song ends and the joker smiles and curtsies as the crowd claps. Then leans close and whispers "Smile, Batsy. The cameras are watching" before letting go of his hand and sweeping away to go stuff more shrimp down his bodice

Bruce bites the inside of his cheek, then takes a deep breath and returns to the paparazzi with a deceptively soft smile "You see? He's perfectly well behaved"

Unfortunately he's too distracted by delivering his message to catch the situation on the other side of the room. The joker is quietly baiting commissioner Gordon

Sipping his champagne with an air of faux sophistication. "Well hello Jimbo" "Commissioner Gordon to you" "now now let's not stand on formalities. You and I know each other very well. Intimately even. Like good friends :3c" "you and I are anything but friends." "Lovers?" "Listen to me you miserable piece of shit. I know Arkham Rehab certified that you're not a danger to society anymore, but I don't believe that for a minute. Bruce Wayne can dress you up like a show poodle all he wants, but you will always be a rabid mutt. And some day I will put you down." "that's so funny coming from you! As a pig, you're the one destined for slaughter." "Is that a threat?" "Call it a premonition" "You--"

Bruce manages to arrive right then and step between them "commissioner!! So nice to see you. I'd love to talk but I'm afraid I'll have to cut our stay short. Have a good night" and he drags the joker out of the venue by his wrist

The joker teases shamelessly "ooh ooh you're hurting me. I knew you were into the rough stuff but I didn't think you'd start it in public." Once they're outside Bruce lets go of his wrist "Are you out of your mind? The commissioner nearly killed you!" "just like a cop to resort to violence. All I did was try to start a friendly conversation and he got his panties in a wad. Not really my fault" "you knew what you were doing. And next time I might not be there to save you. Come on, I'm taking you home" "oooh" "to YOUR home and I am LEAVING you there" "aww. No fun zone"

[operafantomet]

Some Christine costume remodelings that turned out quite interesting and maybe also beautiful

Star Princess costume in Moscow: Whereas the bodice kept much of the look it had in previous stops (Madrid, Sao Paulo etc), but with new beading, the skirts changed a lot. They appeared to both be shortened and getting a darker pink overlayer. The bodices and skirts matched very well due to this.

Rooftop dress in Stockholm: A West End main costume, but with Australian/World Tour decorations and underskirt... That made for a surprisingly stylish combo with cool mint, turquoise and silvery shades, in a version never before seen.

Star Princess in South Korea: During the World Tour run in 2009 they gave one of the elder Australian skirts a new overlayer of pink fabric with silvery stars. It created a gentle yet very starry look to the costume which had previously had stiffer tulle skirts with smaller silver flowers. Very cool look.

Elissa skirt in Copenhagen: What to do when your Christine is a head taller than the previous wearer of the skirt? Well. You could make a new one. or you could add a devilish pleated hem. Here they did the latter, which resulted in a grand red gala skirt. They looked spectacular on stage, and very different from all other versions.

Wishing dress in Copenhagen: What to do when the bodice is way too open in the neckline? Just add a false blouse with cameo necklace. As far as I know it’s the only dress in the world sporting this look. It looked wonderfully period, while staying within the dress aesthetics.

Wishing dress in the Restaged Aussie Tour: This is basically as the red skirt in no. 4: How to make a too short skirt longer. Well, just add a pleated hem... Also bonus for more fluffed drapings in the backdrape. The whole dress looks wonderfully early 1870s.

Rooftop cloak in the West End revival: While the dresses has gotten more and more blue decorations, the cloaks has remained mint. How to make them correspond a bit better? Just add blue velvet trims to the cloak... Frankly not my favourite look, but effective at least.

Aminta costume in Copenhagen: When a costume has been remodeled so many times it becomes fragile... Adding more trims and decorations always, always works... In this dress so much was added in front that the previous A-shaped zone front shape was converted into a V-shape. And you won’t believe the layers of decorations...! I do prefer the A-shaped front panels, but I have a seriously weak spot for this exact dress.

Rooftop dress in Stockholm: Same as no. 2, but a closer look at the black/silver/pink decorations and with the addition of the cloak. As the mint West End dress has hints of pink roses in the fabric, it harmonize well with the Aussie trims and underskirt.

(original designs by Maria Bjørnson)

[femmefatalevibe]

I cover up a lot but I have a pear shape and I’m fit with smaller chest. I would love to be more sexy (in a classy way) but not sure how to show off skin. My wardrobe isn’t how I’d like it to be. And I feel like an old lady (I’m 25) because in most my pics I’m covered up and my mom has said this because I’m trying to date. I don’t like showing off much skin but I want to get out my comfort zone. I want to feel sexy and beautiful.

Hi love! While you shouldn't feel the need to dress a certain way to attract a date, I'm so glad that you want to start wearing outfits that help you feel more sexy and beautiful. It sounds like you put a lot of effort into sculpting your body, so it's time to show off the hard work you've put into your figure. Here are some of my suggestions:

Try a top with a backless, halter, or open-front silhouette and pair it with high-waisted flared/boot-cut/wide-leg pants or a long (midi or maxi-length) straight skirt (outfits like this). Tops with thoughtful collarbone/shoulder/keyhole cutouts or lace/mesh panels for a sexier look that shows some skin while leaving plenty to the imagination (tops like this).

Consider combining the pairings above in a dress or jumpsuit that has a more fitted bodice with cut-outs, mesh paneling, a corset-style, a deep v-neckline, or a backless cut with a longer hemline or a wide-cut jumpsuit pant (Some examples HERE, HERE, and HERE or this outfit for a special occasion)

Corset tops with a wide-leg, high-waisted trouser or a midi skirt (With or without a cropped jacket) also looks sexy without showing too much skin

A matching vest and trousers set with nothing underneath can also offer a polished and sexy look that flatters your pear-shaped figure - – something like this outfit or this outfit

Hope this helps xx

[nimuetheseawitch]

lunchroom sudoku 👀

I think this one is really cute, and I should definitely convert my extensive notes into an actual complete story. It's a no stargate AU where everyone works for some nameless corporation. Rodney mostly keeps to himself and has a routine of doing the sudoku in the newspaper that gets left in the lunchroom every day until one day he gets there for lunch and someone has already done it! He is furious and hides cameras in the lunchroom to figure out who did it, and then kind of stalks John, who works nights to work with a team in a different time zone. Rodney eventually leaves a scathing note about how it's impolite to ruin the sudoku for everyone else, and then John starts leaving him handwritten sudokus and other puzzles taped to the paper. Eventually, Rodney figures out this is John flirting with him when John stays up late enough to catch Rodney as he gets into work and asks him out for coffee.

Inspired by my own workplace (pre-COVID) and the friend who used to write me personalized crossword puzzles in math class at university.

Excerpt below the cut.

Rodney sat down at the lunchroom table, nodded in silent acknowledgment of his coworkers, and took refuge in the newspaper. He didn't bother to have the paper delivered to his home anymore, instead paying for an online subscription, but there was something satisfying in unfolding the newsprint and the feeling of cheap paper and cheaper dyes. He also used it as a convenient excuse not to have to talk to anyone during his half-hour respite from the work day. 

He had finished his lunch (an indulgently large burrito from the stand across the street) and read through both the news sections and the opinion section when he turned in anticipation to the puzzles. Puzzles and dessert were two of Rodney's favorite things and he lets himself indulge in the sudoku and a pudding cup as his reward for making it through yet another morning of office drudgery. So you can imagine his indignation, nay, horror when he scanned down the page only to find the sudoku had already been perfectly completed! He set the paper down in shock and glanced covertly around the room to look for any likely culprits, but it was just the usual handful of people quietly eating lunch: James in the corner with his earbuds in, Martha down the table reading yet another dimestore paperback (this one looked like sci-fi, but her taste seems to run the gamut of genre fiction from mystery/thriller to bodice ripper and everywhere in between), and Ben, who spends his lunch break curled over a cup of coffee and his smartphone next to the outlet. No one new, no one paying the slightest bit of attention to him, and no one who could possibly have sabotaged his weekly ritual.

His afternoon was shot. Rodney spent most of it bitching at Zelenka (who was possibly only still his friend because they worked in different offices) over IM in between unfortunately mandatory meetings. Around 4pm, when there was no chance of him getting anything productive done before heading home, he gave in and called Zelenka to tell him about the sudoku thief and how whoever it was had completely thrown off his rhythm.

[k00293955]

Disrupt:

The finished garment!

Since updating last I have finished the dress of dreams.

I added off the shoulder sleeves using a clear organza fabric. The fabric frays easily so I had to double over the seams to prevent the fraying which took double the time.

I then did a basting stitch at the top of the sleeve to add the puff sleeve effect. I then sewed over that with ribbon to it would stay in place and it is easily adjustable to the arms

I added a strip of the organza to the bodice so it can be tied at the back, and a organza belt.

For the finishing touch, I hand stitched on fake flowers to make the dress pop.

Over the weekend I plan to photograph the dress to make it truly fit into my disrupts theme

I am incredibly proud of what I've created this week and really stepped out of my comfort zone. I achieved something I never thought I would