#nylon overalls

[snowpants2004]

#snowbibs #nylon overalls #snowpants #snow bibs #snowbib #snow bib #snowsuit

[prismstonearchives]

シャカシャカサロペットピンク - Nylon Track Suit Overalls Pink

#waccha primagi! #primagi #electro remix #pop #rare #casual #nylon track suit overalls pink #nylon track suit overalls #chapter 5 #coords #coord #pink #green #black

[banshee-82]

#raingear #boilersuit #overalls #nylon #coveralls

[bebemoon]

"90's bitch", requested by anonymous . | fornarina technical denim overall dress, unif "imp" baby tee, tank girl (issue #3, 1995), paperback copy of "sybil" by flora rheta schreiber, heaven by marc jacobs double-headed teddy friendship necklaces, demonia "pace-01" wedge platform sandal, sandy liang "ninety" bandana in flower grid, ultimo cosmetics (on etsy) "jade monkey" loose green shimmer eyeshadow, peace sign silver-tone toe ring, heretic "poltergeist" eau de parfum, ashley williams "cute" crystal hair pins, yoshitomo nara zippo lighter, baggu small nylon crescent bag in lemongrass, bikini kill buttons, bonne bell: lip smacker "lip sparkles" clear vanilla-scented glitter lipgloss, bonne bell: nail gear nail polish "lucky-scented" top coat, & vivienne westwood "jasha" safety pin earrings

#90s #hope you like ! #request #looks #collection #this took roughly 900 years to make^^' #i prefer the other layout i think just because it's easier #mine #nostalgia

[atinylittlepain]

Split Seam

steve harrington x f!oc

part of the girl boy series

18+ allusions to smut, stuffy family dynamics, overall just a fun time tho

a/n | marriage done the standy way, this was fun to write :')

...........................................

It’s raining in Philadelphia and chocolate hearts are on sale at the CVS down the block from his apartment. Valentine’s cards too, pink and purple and red and everything must go. He buys a bottle of seltzer and a chocolate rose. When he gets to the station he unwraps the red tinfoil and takes a large bite out of the bloom. He’s starving, didn’t get lunch at the office today with the usual end of the week scramble of numbers and numbers and suits and numbers. But he’s only got an hour and change on the train. He can hold out, Hershey’s aside. 

He’s done this train ride sixty-two times now. This is number sixty-three, but he’s not keeping track. All he knows is that it still feels like relief when he’s seated and the train starts moving. It’s always felt like a relief to be moving in the same direction as her again.

They’ve gotten this right, he thinks. As right as they possibly could, at least. The first year of what Andy called moderate-to-long distance was hard. Awkward phone calls with long swaths of silence, calls that were missed altogether, crossed wires, cataclysmic blowouts that were and weren’t about the things they argued about. But they’ve made it this far, nearly two years of this perpetual back and forth ache that’s only soothed with train rides, with closing that gap. 

There’s been three apartments in New York, and he’s pretty sure he likes this last one that she’s in the best. Greenwich Village, old brick and pock-marked sidewalks and tall windows that wash warm over lightwood floors, and he likes being the one making this trip because he likes getting to see her in a space that feels like her. And he likes this too, the same as the first sixty-two trips, she’s waiting for him at the station, that brief moment, miracle, within which he sees her but she doesn’t see him. Checking her watch and running a hand back through her hair, in her brown leather coat, sharp and smooth and too cool for a banker from Philly, but she’s here for him, smiling big, smiling everything when her eyes finally catch his. 

This always the same too, a soft, sweet rejoining, her hand curling at the nape of his neck, other arm slung over his shoulder and here, here, she presses her lips to his cheek, her nose sliding in line with his and hi, baby, another kiss, quick, and he’s home. 

“They have you staying late again, don’t they? Or did you get all dressed up just to see me?” Little tug to his tie as they thread through throngs of people, out into the cool damp night in as close of a tangle they can be without getting heckled for it on the street. 

“Catch-up from the holidays, or at least that’s what everyone keeps saying.”

“Right, right, crunching numbers and murdering secretaries American Psycho-style?”

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” Little squeeze to her hip, little mean as they continue their walk back to her place. Her grin gets lit up by the neon creeping into the oncoming night. 

“Kidding, your colleagues however, well, yeah.” Well, yeah, Andy had come into town right before Christmas to go to his company holiday party with him, and had gotten into not one, not two, but three verbal altercations with his co-workers about the invisible labor of women, as well as the recession. Not that he would admit it, but he had been impressed, and maybe a little flustered, watching her hold her own amongst the suits. They had left early on account of said flustering, as well as the little snap he had given to one of the suits who told him something about needing a muzzle for that one. The partition in the company-ordered limo was raised when they got back into it, the green velvet of her dress hiked up and up and up exposing sheer black nylon and skin, and they both had forgotten all about the suits and the snap by the time they got back to his apartment. He still gets a little hazy, sweet gauze in his mind when he thinks about it. 

“How are the feminists this week?”

“Oh you know, angry, hairy, generally awesome and oppressed. I turned in my third draft on Wednesday.”

“That’s amazing, honey. It must feel good to be almost finished.” 

“It feels good to finally get my advisor off my ass. Bigger and better things, et cetera, et cetera.” He knows not to ask after bigger and better, having made the mistake once of asking if she had heard back from any of the PhD programs yet. She had smiled a watery thing, and promptly dissolved into a pool of sound and tears, too much, don’t ask. She’ll tell him when the news comes in, he knows, though there still remains a selfish slice of him that hopes and hopes and hopes UPenn comes back with a yes, and she answers with a yes too. But for now this is enough, here, and stopping her on the stairs up to her apartment to press a curved kiss to her mouth, so proud of you, honey. She beams, scoffs, thank you, and it drips with sheepish sweetness, her eyes rolling up to hide the truth of it, but he still catches it, lets her believe he doesn’t when she tugs him into her apartment. 

It’s true what they say about absence and fondness, at least in the case of Sylvia, who lately has been greeting him with a desperate peel of cries, twining around his legs with such a fervor that he has to try hard not to trip over her. No petting though, she still likes to scratch if it isn’t on her terms. 

“Nice flowers.”

“Thank you, someone sent them on Valentine's day.” A veritable flame of roses sits preening in a vase on her kitchen counter. He had asked for the biggest, the best, no expenses spared because he’s making money now, real money, and any gifts for her have to be a sneak attack because of it. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Mmhmm, you better watch out because it looks like you have some competition from another suitor.” She lays the accent on thick, her family’s accent, soo-tah, throws in a waggle of her fingers, ring glinting for good measure. The ring, and the whole ordeal of it. There had been no family heirlooms left to ask Frank and Kitty Broder permission for, just a nervous conversation the day after Thanksgiving, the one before last, sweating hard beneath his collar and hands shaking. Because while Andy is anything but traditional, Steve picked up pretty fast that this was not quite the case with her parents. A fiance of the second oldest had clued him in on as much the first time Steve was brought home to meet the family, summer break and a big reunion, plenty of hands to shake and names to forget. And the second oldest’s fiance had sidled up next to Steve with a sloshing glass of prosecco and the grin of someone who had figured this whole production out. Somewhere between the mafia and the Vatican, you do the math, man. 

Frank was unmoved, tolerant of the idea at best, considering him over the dark rims of his Buddy Holly-esque glasses, a stylish man, tall and thin man with a slick of gray hair and a thick gold ring that could blind you if it flashed the wrong way. He only had one question for Steve which, mercifully, he could answer correctly. Yes, he told Frank, raised Roman Catholic, though he left the non-practicing part out. Meanwhile, Kitty was already designing the invitations in her mind. 

And that wasn’t even the hard part. Because yes, hasty by some judgements (Eddie’s), and unlikely by other judgements, given Andy’s views (Robin). But he knew, he knew, spent a few months looking for a ring in the evenings when he’d get off work. When he did find one, he didn’t even wait a week, letting the black velvet box burn a hole in his pocket on the train ride to New York that very same weekend. And the proposal itself was simple, no fuss or fanfare, if not a little nerve-wracking. He spoke honestly, plainly. He spoke love. And he’s never known relief like he did when she smiled and told him there’s no one else I’d ever say yes to, baby. So maybe it’s hasty, and maybe it’s all skewed a little unorthodox. But it’s theirs. 

“They better act fast then, got that appointment tomorrow and all.”

“Did you bring all your documents?”

“Driver’s license, social security number. We’re set, honey.”’

“I’m still not changing my last name.”

“No, I know, I don’t care about that.”

“My mother is pissed about it, apparently so is yours.” 

“I think when all this is said and done, those two are gonna leave their husbands and move in with each other.” 

“God, that’d be good for them, or maybe terrible.” 

“Little of both, probably.”  One of the stranger outcomes of this whole wedding thing, the alliance that’s formed between Diane and Kitty. Though maybe not that strange, he thinks, certainly plenty of common in between them. At the very least, this wedding wouldn’t be happening next month without the pair of them leading the absolute battle charge of planning they’ve accomplished. Kitty’s words, knowing my Miranda, she’d be happy with a shotgun wedding in Reno, and Andy hadn’t disagreed, happy to leave all the cake and the flowers and the tulle up to their mothers. Steve was more than happy to stay out of the fray too.

“You didn’t eat lunch, did you?”

“How can you tell?”

“Steve, you never eat lunch. I ordered Thai before I left to get you,Tom Kha Gai and egg rolls, the usual. It should be here soon.” 

And the rest of the evening is very boring, very mundane, a third-floor window lit up warm, and framed inside of it, them on the couch with a smattering of takeout boxes. His tie undone and hanging loose around his neck, top three buttons of his shirt popped as well. Warmth and salt and sour sating him, he goes slack when she tries to teach him how to properly hold his chopsticks, moreso enjoying the feeling of her hands fidgeting with his fingers, her careful concentration. He goes right back to using a fork when she’s finished, grinning at the roll of her eyes. And afterwards, stomachs full and eyes heavy, worn weary from their respectively long weeks, they get into the shower, all kind touch, simple pleasure, her fingers kneading back along his scalp and his hands soaped and slipping over her skin, working into the spots that he knows ache, satisfaction in her sighs. 

Soon, he thinks, hopes, this won’t be a thing they have to ration, all this touch, all this sense, all this closeness. This will simply become the thing they do every night, getting into bed together and talking about things that don’t really matter while their bodies relearn one another. He wants these things in a near dizzying way, big, bold, brazen want that simmers and sighs in her presence, tired kisses, and it’s enough, her hand in his hair, and it’s enough. 

He wakes up the next morning bleary-eyed with want, eager for this early morning appointment at the county clerk’s office, because this is another step, big step, making it even more real step. They both seem to feel it, quiet over the rims of their coffee mugs, smiling, and what? What? What’re you smiling about? It’s a big day, isn’t it? Yeah, nervous? No, you? Not at all, no. And he means that when he says it. There are few things in his life that he has been so certain about. 

And yes, maybe they had a romantic idea of how this would go, but it really is just paperwork in a dimly lit cubicle, and signatures here and here and yes, wedding will take place within sixty days. Steve tries to make a joke about cousins, and is only met with a blank look from the clerk, and a swift side-eye from Andy. 

But when the paperwork is signed and there’s a manilla envelope with their wedding license in his hand, there is a lightness, a lift, a giddy kick, like kids getting away with something when they leave the office. Tucked in close to each other, a little oblivious, and maybe a little obnoxious, and a man walking the other way lets them know as much, bumping right into Steve’s shoulder and watch it! And without missing a beat, Andy’s head whipping around and hey, fuck you, we just got married! Which, well, technically not, but it still makes them both laugh a breathless thing, wild, wind-bitten smiles. And they’re still running on all that flare and fluster when they get back to her apartment, open-mouthed kisses and greedy hands and she has to hold him back by the lapel of his coat to grin an awful thing and you wanna see the dress? 

“You have it?”

“Yeah.”

“Like, here, right now?”

“Yes, Steve, it’s been fitted and everything. Locked and loaded and ready to blast me off into marital bliss with you, et cetera, et cetera. Now, do you, or don’t you, want to be the first, the very first, to see it on me in all its matrimonious glory?” 

“Isn’t that bad luck?”

“Baby, please.” She groans, pressing her forehead against his, and really, he’s just giving her a hard time, because he knows what this means to her, beneath all the snark. The first to see it before anyone else, before the rehearsal, and the aisle, and all the family that neither of them really care to have present. A moment for them, just for them, and no one else. 

“You really want me to see?”

“Mmhmm.” Quiet, crackling murmurs, whispered between smiles.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’d like to see.” 

“Go sit on the couch, I’ll be right back.” And so he does, a little shake in his hands, a little burst and batter of his heart against his ribs. Nervous now, and he’s not sure why, the ticking of the clock pulling taut and loose all over like melted taffy. And then, and then, the padding of bare feet, and the hard rush of blood in his ears, and the sweet exhale when he does finally see her. 

“Honey.” Bordering on pained, the word is said with a sigh, and he’s not going to, no, no, just a little flush of heat behind his eyes and in his throat and Andy’s baby, don’t cry makes him sniff hard and swallow, his hand settling on her hip when she steps closer between his legs. Smooth white silk and simple, and her hair is still gathered in the clip she tucked it up into this morning and she��s still wearing a smear of Vaseline on her lips and she’s the best thing he’s ever seen, he thinks. Tells her as much and she smiles big, chin tucked down and her thumb stroking along the column of his neck where her hand is loosely curled. 

“Well, thoughts?” 

“Wow, just wow, yeah, no other thoughts.” He knows she’s going to start wilting under any more compliments, never one for them, a warbly Steve that makes him smile, squeezing at her hip, coaxing her to c’mere, c’mere, even as she resists his pull.

“If you fuck up this dress we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Not gonna fuck it up, just come a little closer. I wanna, uh, look at the stitching.” 

“You’re so full of shit.” Even as she says it, her smile is starting to slip and spread, another shuffled step closer as his hands splay across her low back, and lower, and lower, and a squeeze that’s just a little mean, making her laugh while he starts to hike all that silk up and up into his hands. 

A few weeks later, when he’s met with the sight of her in that dress in a very, very different context, all he can think about is that afternoon. No one will ever know that he got to see her first in that dress, before anyone else. Nor will they know that they spent the rest of that afternoon splayed on her living room floor with the fabric of her dress bunched up around her hips and his hands curled into the plush of her thighs and his mouth, open and taking, watching the dip and fold of fine fabric, the arch of her back, pleasure for pleasure’s sake. No one will know that in the after, his hips stilled and flush against hers, both of them panting and preening into each other’s kisses, they found the smallest tear at her hip, and that she couldn’t be mad about it, not even a little, when he sunk back down between her legs and laid his apology at the open hinge of her hips. 

He’ll find that tear again, when the vows are said, and the family and friends are clapping, and they’re walking down the aisle together, his hand on her hip. He’ll find the tear then, the perfect secret shared between them in a quick glancing smile.

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington au #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington series #steve harrington story #girl boy

[transgenderer]

The Fulton surface-to-air recovery system (STARS), also known as Skyhook, is a system used by the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), United States Air Force, and United States Navy for retrieving individuals on the ground using aircraft such as the MC-130E Combat Talon I and B-17 Flying Fortress. It involves using an overall-type harness and a self-inflating balloon with an attached lift line. An MC-130E engages the line with its V-shaped yoke and the person is reeled on board. Red flags on the lift line guide the pilot during daylight recoveries; lights on the lift line are used for night recoveries. Recovery kits were designed for one- and two-man retrievals.

Illustration of operating principle of the Fulton recovery system

After experiments with instrumented dummies, Fulton continued to experiment with live pigs, as pigs have a nervous system close to humans. Lifted off the ground, the pig began to spin as it flew through the air at 125 miles per hour (200 km/h). It arrived on board uninjured, but in a disoriented state. When it recovered, it attacked the crew.[3]

By 1958, the Fulton aerial retrieval system, or "Skyhook", was finished. The ground system could be dropped from an aircraft and contained the necessary equipment for a pickup, including a harness, for cargo or a person, attached to 500 feet (150 m) of high-strength, braided nylon line and a dirigible-shaped balloon inflated by a helium bottle.

The pickup aircraft was equipped with two tubular steel "horns", 30 feet (9 m) long and spread at a 70° angle from its nose. The aircraft flew into the line, aiming at a bright mylar marker placed at the 425 foot (130 m) level. As the line was caught between the forks on the nose of the aircraft, the balloon was released and a spring-loaded trigger mechanism (sky anchor) secured the line to the aircraft. After the initial pickup, the line was snared by the pickup crew using a J-hook and attached to a powered winch and the person or cargo pulled on board. To prevent the pickup line from interfering with the aircraft's propellers in the case of an unsuccessful catch, the aircraft had deflector cables strung from the nose to the wingtips.

The first human pickup using Fulton's STARS took place on 12 August 1958, when Staff Sergeant Levi W. Woods of the U.S. Marine Corps was winched on board the Neptune.[4] Because of the geometry involved, the person being picked up experienced less of a shock than during a parachute opening. After the initial contact, which was described by one individual as similar to "a kick in the pants",[5] the person rose vertically at a slow rate to about 100 ft (30 m), then began to streamline behind the aircraft. Extension of arms and legs prevented spinning as the individual was winched on board. The process took about six minutes.

[kstarlitchaotics]

Christian Bale on "Batman Begins" (2005): "At first, I was somewhat hesitant to do the role. I mean, after all, Batman is an icon. But I remember, as clear as day, being at the grocery store the day the movie opened, and this little boy saw me. He couldn't have been more than five years old. He just walked right up to me and hugged me. He hugged me, and I was so moved by it that I hugged him back. Then he looked up at me and said, 'You're my hero.' And in that moment, I knew that not only as an actor that I had done my job, but that I had made the right decision to play Batman. And I've never looked back on my the decision to play Batman since."

Bale decided early on in the audition process that he didn't want to play Batman straight, but to play him as a rage-filled monster, figuring that it might polarize writer and director Christopher Nolan. To his delight, Nolan was thrilled with his off-kilter interpretation.

Heath Ledger was considered for the role of Bruce Wayne/Batman during this movie's early development before Ledger and Nolan agreed he was not right for the role. After this, he was cast as The Joker in "The Dark Knight" (2008), a role that won him an Academy Award for Best Actor in a Supporting Role.

The infamous growl performed by Bale was much rougher in "The Dark Knight" than "Batman Begins," and has been parodied countless times due to its extreme nature. However, the common misconception is that Bale was fully responsible for this voice. The real voice, during filming, was more toned down, and then heightened to a rougher, grittier vibe during post-production under the decision of writer, producer, and director Nolan.

Bruce Wayne wears a new Batsuit in "The Dark Knight." This Batsuit was an improvement on the outfit from "Batman Begins", and made Bale more comfortable and agile in his performance. It was constructed from two hundred unique pieces of rubber, fiberglass, metallic mesh, and nylon (producing an impression of sophisticated technology), with elastic banding added for tightening the costume to fit Bale. The gauntlets had their razors made retractable and able to be fired. The suit's cowl was based on a motorcycle helmet and separated from the neck piece, allowing Bale to move his head left/right/up/down, and comes equipped with white eye lenses for when Batman turns on Bat-sonar. Bale got to keep the Batman mask from the movie after filming.

For "The Dark Knight Rises" (2012), The Batsuit consisted of one hundred ten separate pieces. The base layer was made of a polyester mesh, utilized by the military and high-tech sports manufacturers due to its breathability and moisture-retaining properties. Molded pieces of flexible urethane were then attached to the mesh to form the overall body armor plating. Carbon fiberpanels were placed inside the sections on the legs, chest, and abdomen. The new owl was sculpted from a cast of Bale's face and head to become a perfect fit for Bale. (IMDb)

Happy Birthday, Christian Bale! 🦇

#dc #dcu #batman #bruce wayne #christan bale #batman dark knight #dark knight trilogy #christopher nolan #heath ledger #batman fandom #dc fandome

[lovedinapastlife]

Fic: Any world with you will do

Any world with you will do by SunlitGarden for dsvridiculousfangirl

Time-traveling contemporary Jughead tries to convince 50's Betty to help him save the world by showing her how intimately he knows her in other timelines. ~~~~ Jughead cannot stand being in this decade–hell, this universe–for one more minute. He stalks into the Blue and Gold, his heart skipping at the sight of a beautiful, swing-skirt-wearing blonde rearranging the photo layout. “Help me Betty Cooper, you’re my only hope,” he says. She quirks an eyebrow. “What?” He tugs his cap. “Ah, sorry, that movie hasn’t come out yet.” “What are you talking about, Jughead?” She giggles, her voice airy and light in a way that makes his stomach tighten with need. Her smile transcends timelines. He loves her in tight sweaters and nylons, but he misses her bandanas and overalls too. He’s not sure he can miss and adore someone when she’s standing right in front of him. Sort of. But he had that problem in other universes too.

`~~~~

Read here on Ao3

#bughead #betty x jughead #betty cooper x jughead jones #bughead fanfiction #bughead fanfic #betty cooper #jughead jones #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale au #fic: any world with you will do #time traveling jughead jones #my works #my fics

[luzho]

⇨⇨⇨⇨★ THE JOJOLANDERS★⇦⇦⇦⇦⇦

i loved the new joestars siblings... can’t wait to see all the bizarre shit they’ll get into! (based on the poses from this photo from nylon china)

[ID: This is a digital drawing of Jodio and Dragona Joestar, drawn in warm colors, surrounded by 5-pointed stars and against a vibrant blue background. Jodio, wearing a shirt as pink as his bangs under darker overalls with a hoodie, stands with one arm behind him and one leg raised; while in front of him, Dragona wearing an equally dark pink dress with a short skirt and a flower crown on top of her locs, stands reclined on Jodio’s leg. End ID]

#my art #jodio joestar #dragona joestar #jojo part 9 #I LOVE THEEEEM!!!!! jojo siblings.... :'))) #the jojolands #jojolands fanart #jojo fanart #jojo spoilers #jjba part 9 #jjba fanart #THEY ARE SO SILLY TOO

[snowpants2004]

#snowpants #nylon overalls #snowbibs #snowsuit #snow bibs #snowbib #snow bib

[prismstonearchives]

シャカシャカサロペットオレンジ - Nylon Track Suit Overalls Orange

#waccha primagi! #primagi #electro remix #pop #rare #casual #nylon track suit overalls orange #nylon track suit overalls #primagi studio chapter 4 #coords #coord #orange #yellow #green #pink

[dollsorwhatever]

Inners and Serenity

My Inner Senshi Styledolls arrived last week, and I actually deboxed them for once!!

Jupiter and Mercury are DEFINITELY my favorites, which is no surprise because they're usually my favorite Inners of the vintage Bandai JP lines too lol Jupiter's hair needed a lot of work (had to layer her ponytail to blend in the stupid short tendril they cut at the top) but Mercury only needed a slight trim to even things out!

Mars is third favorite! Her hair is a little too short imo but looks mostly correct and only needed some flat ironing to curl the ends more consistently. I don't love the way they added crimps to her bangs but it doesn't look horrible and it is pretty accurate to her design, I'm just really annoying about doll hair being as organized as possible lol Venus is definitely my least favorite; her hair is like half an inch shorter than Mars and her half-up style is severely over-engineered in a way that is incredibly confusing to me- she has an entire thatched parting under the half-up ponytail that stretches horizontally across the back of her head, and the ponytail can't lay flat as a result so it looks really wonky fresh from the box. I had to brush out the parting and redo the entire style to get it to lay somewhat correctly, but it's still too short and I hate her bangs lol Aside from Jupiter, none of the Inners have a lot of gel in their hair- maybe a tiny bit on the bangs, but otherwise it is incredibly soft and smooth nylon! Overall a really excellent set of dolls! They won't be dethroning the vintage dolls for me, but they're well made and very nice to handle. Much looking forward to the Outers whenever they get made, and hopefully Eternal Sailor Moon and Sailor Cosmos! While I was at it, I also deboxed and restyled my Princess Serenity that I got months ago! I have been hesitant to debox my Styledolls because it was an absolute nightmare trying to iron out the factory kinks left behind by the heinous amount of elastics in SSM's hair, but I decided to test fate and Serenity turned out to be much easier to style. From this:

To this!

I absolutely hate the way Bandai has done her hair so far, but I've been collecting SM dolls long enough to have figured out a relatively low effort way to get mostly-accurate Usagi hair that satisfies my personal vision for how her hair should look on a doll lol Still, Usagi is a lot luckier than Chibiusa when it comes to factory hair:

Her odango are literally just....spikes they cut into her hair. Probably the worst attempt at Chibiusa hair I have ever seen, and I will likely never debox her as a result (unless I decide to spring for a reroot lol).

#sailor moon #sailor moon eternal #sailor moon doll #bandai #styledoll #sailor mars #sailor mercury #sailor jupiter #sailor venus #princess serenity #pretty guardian sailor moon

[crepe-of-wrath]

Benefits Package St. Valentine's Special Part 2 (Alucard x Fem Reader)

Please see Part I for overall notes; this is sensual/Reader being looked after; blood/biting mention, but there is nothing sexual (sorry!). Part II takes place at an as-yet-unspecified time after Part I.

Your life was routine as it could be, given that you worked for a woman who casually used the world's most fearsome monster as a weapon. You woke up--sometimes in your bed, sometimes where you had crashed after another late night at work--worked your way through whatever Sir Integra needed from you, ate your simple meals, and then worked well into the night attending to all the small things that were always getting postponed to take care of the types of crises the Hellsing Organization got called on to make go away.

You rubbed your hands together and yawned. Probably best to stop soon; this was detail work and best not done when you were this tired. And, as your stomach unceremoniously reminded you, hungry.

You realized that--

"You haven't eaten dinner yet, little human."

You still jumped whenever Alucard manifested himself, but you generally didn't shriek anymore. "You're right, I should go to the kit--"

"No," Alucard said, offering you a hand as you got out of your chair. You were surprised to see he was just wearing his suit. He looked much more...formal without his duster. As always, he was devastatingly beautiful, red eyes and lustrous hair, just the perfect length--slightly unruly, but not overly long.

"It's too late for the kitchens," he said, in a strangely--and seductively--commanding tone. "I have prepared something already."

"That's very kind, thank you."

Alucard offered you a strong arm and your fingers slid over the fine wool of his suit. You were not a tiny thing, but you felt it as he guided you down the halls. He was not so casual or modern as to touch the small of your back or to intertwine fingers; no, in these moments, whatever of the Old Aristocrat, the boy who had been part of a class that saw itself as separate and superior and demanded expressions of that superiority through the flawless performance of prescribed ritual, manifested itself. He walked in march time, gaze always straight ahead, and it was fascinating to see this vestige of court drill still embedded him after all this time.

He opened the door to one of the dining rooms, where the table was appointed with a lace tablecloth, candlesticks, fine dining china, a variety of elaborate ice-packed serving trays, and tools. Laid over one chair was something made of fine-looking, semi-translucent fabrics.

Alucard had taken hold of your shoulders and was rubbing circles with his thumbs as he leaned down and whispered in his deep, plush voice, "Your clothes must be uncomfortable after such a long day. Perhaps those would be more pleasurable."

The part of you that had developed a million different defense mechanisms to shield the soft, romantic core of your heart almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. What ancient and forgotten wardrobe had he found this--goodness, it was an honest-to-God 1930s peignoir and negligee set--garment in? Some inner voice stopped you though, told you that, strange as it might seem, laughing would deeply wound him.

"Let me change," you said. "It's so thoughtful of you--I am sure it will be so much more comfortable."

You availed yourself of an attached cloakroom and grumbled when you realized how right Alucard was: it felt divine to shuck off your skirt suit. It fit fine, but any outfit with waistbands and buttons and pantyhose was going to feel tiresome after a 12+ hour workday. The cotton of the nightgown was incredibly soft and you actually felt beautiful when you saw how it showed hints of your lingerie underneath and showed off your décolletage. The silk of the robe caressed and soothed in all the ways that nylons never could.

Alucard met you in the doorway, first smothering your hand in kisses, and then once again offering his arm so he could escort you to the table. The candles were lit and the table was set with smoked salmon and a variety of caviars on ice. A flute of champagne was already bubbling away. He pulled out your chair for you and then took a seat to your left. You began plucking plump looking pieces of smoked salmon and digging into the caviar vessels with a spoon (a proper mother-of-pearl spoon, of couse). The grey-golden pearls and the iridescent streaks in the spoon glistened in the candlelight.

It was so good, the contrast of the fatty fish and the salty, briny caviar further cut by the dry, sparkling champagne. The fine, flimsy fabric allowed you to feel the intricate wood carving in the chair, the details in the upholstery's brocade, the depth of the pile of the carpet. This was incredibly relaxing, and you marveled at the vampire's ability to know how badly you had needed this.

Alucard watched you devour the caviar with an inscrutable look. He regarded his own goblet with a bit of resignation. You locked eyes with him and smiled very big to try and convey how appreciative you were.

"Sometimes, I miss the ceremony of feasting."

"Then feast from me."

The declaration surprised you both. "You freely offer this?" he asked. You nodded firmly, adding a verbal, "Yes, I do."

He reached out and took your hand, pulling you across his lap. You presented your neck to him, and here he did not hesitate. You gasped at the intrusion into you neck and whimpered as he drank: it was pain and pleasure and strange euphoria for both of you.

When he lifted his head up and took a deep breath of satisfaction, you lifted your own head up to kiss him, but he gently put a gloved finger to your lips and took a fine linen napkin off the table, blotting the blood that had been trickling down your neck, just before it stained your gown.

As he held the ruined napkin aloft, he chuckled. "Master will be so irritated," he said, boyish amusement in his eyes.

He insisted you eat a bit more to regain some strength and to be sure you were truly sated. When you could eat no more, you stood up and walked to his chair to ask to dance with you, but, as you opened your mouth to ask, you yawned.

He took you in his arms, eyes taking in your breasts, which were pressed into him, before he spoke. "Time to sleep, my dear."

You were about to protest, when you were taken by a sudden swoon of exhaustion. Alucard was staring at you intently.

"You allowed me to drink, and after such a long day, little human. We will dance another time." You opened your mouth again, not wanting this night to end, but he stopped you.

"I said, time to sleep, little human."

You began to drift off as though under a spell, but you knew Alucard was carrying you toward the bedroom where you usually slept when you worked late. In the bedroom, there was a dresser with a great mirror over it across from the bed.

The last thing you saw before you succumbed to slumber was a vision of yourself in the mirror, wrapped in diaphanous ivory, your body limp in the arms of a tall, well-built, dark-haired man who was gently lowering you into a soft bed. You were the Sleeping Beauty of your silliest fantasies that had been stoked by Disney films and fever-dream nineteenth century canvases. You hoped that the smile you felt in your heart had made it to your lips for Alucard to see.

When you awoke the next morning, not to an alarm, but to the gentle glow of the morning sun through the sheer drape, you could see in the giant mirror that your hair was rather attractively messy and the cotton nightgown, whisper-soft against your skin, enveloped you like a cloud. The silk and lace peignoir was arrayed at the foot of the bed as though it were staged for a photoshoot

Alucard had left your keys, pocketbook, and calendar on the nightstand. You used the bookmark to open your datebook, and without thinking, flipped to the next page to see what you had on for today.

You smiled softly and your eyes misted when you saw that today was February 15th.

#alucard x reader #alucard x you #alucard imagine #hellsing alucard #alucard hellsing #my writing

[goemoni]

ForThem Binder Review

i just received my forthem binder. i haven't seen any reviews for the brand on here, and only about 3 total on the rest of the internet, so i thought i'd post my own. this shit isn't sponsored or anything.

if you didn't know, forthem is a new brand. their binders are meant to be a happy medium between traditional binders and sports bras. that's exactly what i've always wanted, so i bought one pretty much right away.

PROS:

super soft and comfortable material. like i cannot overstate how comfortable it is. its some kind of nylon blend, so it stretches and isn't stiff, while still offering some compression. and it's recycled material

definitely binds better than my sports bras. in my particular case, it's more comfortable too. i barely notice it's on

no breathing issues, rib pain, or back pain to speak of

it's front-back reversible. one side is scoop neck and the other is v neck. the v neck side comes up a little higher, so i find it binds a little better

fun & unique colors

CONS:

doesn't bind as well as a gc2b or underworks binder. those are the only two i've tried before, so i can't speak for other brands

i can see it not working out as well for larger chested people, due to the overall length being shorter than your average binder. however, some reviews on their actual website mention the binder working well for bigger chests, so do with that what you will

your color options are limited depending on what size you need, because they use recycled material. also only one skin color option is available (beige)

they say they'll text you at every update, but i only ever got one text that confirmed my order, and that was after i texted them first to check in a few days after placing it. no shipment tracking.

OVERALL:

i love this thing. if you're disabled in a way that affects your ability to bind, have sensory issues, are just starting to bind, or have anything else going on that makes traditional binders a not great option, i definitely recommend trying forthem.

#binder review #forthem binder #forthem #lgbt #trans #trans masc #binding

[archaeology-findings]

Adventures in Plant Dyeing: Part 1 - Yarrow

Last week while at our monthly re-enactment group training meeting, my friend Jess who is a very accomplished dyer pointed out that there was yarrow growing in the field we were in. Naturally I had to pick some and came home with an armful to dye with the next day. Yarrow is recognisable by its small white flowers and feathery leaves as shown in the photo (not mine).

Yarrow produces a greenish-yellow to bright yellow colour depending on the mordants used and the particular harvest you use. I had several undyed or otherwise cream-coloured skeins of yarn I could use, and I chose 50g of a wool-nylon blend yarn. A quick google check suggested that nylon does indeed take dye, although not as well as natural fibres like wool. For fresh plants you're meant to use about a 1:1 ratio of plant matter to fibre, however after weighing it I realised I had 120g of yarrow. I decided to use it all anyway because I didn't want to have the remainder laying around without anything to use it for.

Firstly I mordanted the yarn using alum granules, I used about 8g for the 50g of fibre. For this I set some water on the stove in a large metal pot (called a dye pot) and dissolved the alum in a cup of hot water. I poured the dissolved alum in the pot and added the wet yarn, then kept it at roughly 80°C (180°F) for 45 minutes. I then removed it and left it in the sink until it was ready to go into the dye bath itself.

To prepare the dye bath, I chopped the yarrow into rough pieces, not too finely (although I found sources that both cut up the yarrow and left the plants whole) and placed them into the dye pot in fresh water. I brought it to boiling then simmered it with the lid on the pot for an hour. After this I added the skein of yarn without removing the yarrow and kept it simmering for another hour. It filled almost the whole house with a strong scent of plants which was rather unpleasant, so I recommend doing this with the windows open. Then I turned the heat off and left it to cool down until about 9pm, which was about 6 or 7 hours later.

I removed the yarn and rinsed it until the water ran off clear, then I hung it up to dry overnight. In the morning I wound it into a ball for use in tablet weaving and braiding.

Here's a before and after photo for comparison. Overall I'm quite happy with how it turned out, especially since I probably didn't pick the yarrow at the optimal time and the yarn was a nylon blend.

#plant dyeing #dyes #reenactment #fibre arts #living history #experimental archaeology