#shortcoat | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr has 16.74 million mobile monthly users in the US.

cavane · 2 years

Photo

cavane No color double-coatコート / ca-20174M made in Japan ラムズウール(※) ノーカラーダブルコートドロップショルダーのゆったりとしたシルエット、サイズ感でノンストレスな着心地によるショートコート。肩先の落ちた肩線で、丸みのあるライン、ワイドシルエットのショート丈のディテール。 Please the contact below for more information 詳細は下記よりオンラインストアをご利用下さいませ。 https://cavane.shop ・・・ cavane NO : ca-20174M ITEM : No color double-coatコート TYPE : women SIZE : F COLOR : MOCHA ( limited ) STOCK：1 (一点モノ）※ 重さ：約1100g 素材表地：毛 (wool)100% 裏地：キュプラ(cupro)100% 付属：ホーンボタン (horn 大量生産ではないため、限られた数しか生産できない「cavane（キャヴァネ）」の服。時間をかけて一点一点製作をしております。独特の膨らみ・シワ感・色の奥行きを表現しております。ヴィンテージのように、着る人の好みによって生地のエイジング感を育てられます。上質なラムウール=「子羊の羊毛」を原料にした滑らかで極上のタッチと保温性に優れたコートとなります。防寒性も高く、高級感漂う佇まいも魅力で馴染んだ風合いある仕上がり。防寒性も高く、高級感漂う佇まいも魅力で馴染んだ風合いある仕上がり。シワになりにくく、ふっくらとした素材感とゆとりのあるシルエットとなります。内側は滑らかなシルクタッチのキュプラ素材を採用しており、細部まで総裏地仕立てとなります。・袖部分はスリット入り・両サイド裾部分にはスリット入り・両サイドにフラップ付きポケット・ボタンは天然の水牛ホーンボタン一点もの商品となります。カジュアルなスタイルから、クラシック・ヴィンテージまで幅広いテイストに溶け込むデザインとなります。生地について：ラムズウールとは(※) 一生に一度しか採れない希少な最高級ウール「子羊の羊毛」ラムウールはメリノウールの中でも生後6か月未満の仔羊からしか取れない柔らかいウール。通常のウールより繊維が細く、ふんわりと柔らかいのが特徴です。上質な原料を最大限に引き出した少量生産によるファブリックとなります。すべて手作業によって完成され洋服が作られます。工程は大量生産とは比較にならないほど手間がかかり、糸は不均衡なためネップ・糸むらや節などの特徴があります。ヴィンテージ感の雰囲気、味わい深い素材をお楽しみくださいませ。モデル着用画像身長 158cm ・・ DM・MAIL迄お問い合わせください。 online upしました⇨ https://cavane.shop #cavane_fashion #nocolorcoat #woolcoat #fashionphoto #handmade #vintage #frenchstyle #eurowork #doublebleast #shortcoat #cavane #22aw #ラムズウール #モカベージュ #ヴィンテージ #ショートコート #ノーカラーコート #秋冬 (Cavane) https://www.instagram.com/p/ClJleAhPXho/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#cavane_fashion #nocolorcoat #woolcoat #fashionphoto #handmade #vintage #frenchstyle #eurowork #doublebleast #shortcoat #cavane #22aw #ラムズウール #モカベージュ #ヴィンテージ #ショートコート #ノーカラーコート #秋冬

2 notes · View notes

gallerynamba · 5 months

Text

◇ELEVENTY FEMME(イレブンティファム)◇コートが入荷しました。定価：269,500円(税込)⇒SALE価格：188,650円(税込) 弊社通販サイト商品ページ⇒http://www.gallery-jpg.com/item/498-12801001/ SHOW SAMPLE MADE IN ITALY 素材： (表地)羊毛100％ (ニット部分)羊毛45％、レーヨン30％、毛25％ (裏地)レーヨンカラー：ホワイト×ライトグレーサイズ：40 着丈約63cm、ゆき丈約43cm、バスト約106cm、ウエスト約118cm (平置きの状態で測っています。) elevnty(イレヴンティ)の中でも更にランクの高い、上質なクオリティを誇る『elevnty platinum(イレヴンティプラチナ)』。身頃は高密度で織り上げたウールのヘリンボーン生地を使用しています。非常に柔らかく高品質。ホワイトとライトグレーの配色が美しいです。アームホールが大きく、袖口が広めにデザインされていてケープの様にも楽に羽織れます。襟、袖部分はカシミヤ混のリブニット。ゆるやかにAラインのシルエットになったショートコート。袖の長さは9分袖程度で、ロンググローブ等とコーディネートして頂くと素敵です。在庫ラスト１点です。 ※ご覧頂いている媒体により、色の見え方が多少変わる場合がございます。 ※店頭でも同商品を販売しておりますので、通販サイトの在庫反映が遅れる場合があり商品をご用意出来ない場合がございます。予めご了承頂きますようお願い致します。 Gallery なんばCITY本館1F店〒542-0076 大阪府大阪市中央区難波5-1-60 なんばCITY本館1階【営業時間】11:00～21:00 【休館日】12月無休 31日のみ18時まで営業　　　 1月1日休館　　　 1月2日 9:30より営業 1月3日より平常営業【PHONE】06-6644-2526 【e-mail】[email protected]

【なんばCITY店Facebook】https://goo.gl/qYXf6I

【ゴルチェ派Facebook】https://goo.gl/EVY9fs

【instagram】http://instagram.com/gallery_jpg

【Twitter】https://twitter.com/gallery_jpg_vw

【tumblr.】https://gallerynamba.tumblr.com/

【ブログ】http://ameblo.jp/gallery-jpg/

【オンラインショップ】http://gallery-jpg.com/

0 notes

margot-shop · 1 year

Photo

. GASA*「交差点のむこう」ワイドコート / haze yellow ジャケットのようなパッと羽織れるショートコート。しっかりとしたウール生地ですが、軽い着心地なのです！生地に素朴な、どこか懐かしい雰囲気があります。伝統工芸の織物に着目し、ツィードヤーンをダイヤ柄に織り上げているそう。北欧のファブリックのようでもあり、温かみを感じます。車に乗ることが多い方はこれぐらいのショート丈が使いやすいですね。春先の寒い時期まで活躍してくれます！ . . #真冬の最中ですが #やっとオンラインストアに掲載しました #gasa #shortcoat #margot_kanazawa (マーゴ - margot) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cml0gPtPZsp/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#真冬の最中ですが #やっとオンラインストアに掲載しました #gasa #shortcoat #margot_kanazawa

0 notes

hawkezone · 1 year

Text

[[ RETURN TO HALAMSHIRAL - PART ONE ]]

A missing Queen Cousland, whispers of an elven rebellion, and one hell of a party: Hawke, Fenris, and Varric attend a lavish ball at the Winter Palace celebrating Empress Celene and Marquise Briala's alliance, where Hawke finds himself enlisted to help by a man with a strong Fereldan accent and a deep-seeded fear of swooping. A Trevelyan-Dorian & Fen(m!)hawke imagining of the events leading up to Dread Wolf, sequel to The Seat of Power.

CHAPTERS: ♕ [1]

♕

“I cannot believe you’ve talked me into this, Hawke.”

Fenris, frowning, fidgeting uncomfortably in his velveteen guardsman’s uniform. It was the closest thing either of them had for formalwear - Hawke, being a man of habit, had smuggled some amount of finery out of the Hawke Estate when they’d escaped Kirkwall that night so long ago, but, much like Hawke’s usual escapades, he neglected to pick up a few key items - such as britches that actually matched their doublets, and shoes. Any shoes. At all.

“I think you look handsome,” Hawke smiled, impishly, knowing that Fenris, while grumpy, had a little room left in him for some light teasing. Unlike Hawke’s usual methods of heavy teasing, which typically led to even heavier petting when the two were left alone.

Fenris didn’t take this well, but he merely sighed, tugging the uniform so its creases unfolded. “My least favorite part of going undercover,” he said, solidly and glumly, “is that the rest of us have to play-act while you always get to be yourself. Do you remember when we went to Chateau Haine? You had to accompany that awful Tallis, and Varric and I were assumed to be your manservants.”

“I remember,” Hawke chuckled. “You almost threw that guard in the moat outside the formal gardens.”

“I should have!” Fenris pouted. “Manservant. The gall.”

Hawke turned, and swept Fenris up by the waist. He smiled, from ear to ear, and Fenris - very briefly - forgot what he was mad about. Briefly.

“I promise. This ball will be better. And if anyone calls you a manservant, I’ll punch them in the face,” Hawke smiled.

Fenris, despite himself, let out a crooked smile, too. “That would blow your cover, I think.”

“Who’s to say the Champion of Kirkwall doesn’t go about punching random nobles in the face for calling his boyfriend a manservant?” Hawke said, defensively.

“You’re ridiculous,” Fenris said, but he didn’t let go of Hawke. Or stop smiling.

The gardens at Halamshiral were abuzz - it was a hot, breezy, summer night, and the fireflies were out in full force. The sun had set not but an hour ago, and the coolness of the evening had just begun to lay down on the stuffed shirts in attendance at the Winter Palace. The hum and splash of the magnificent fountain, forming the centerpiece of the front gardens, made for a soothing backdrop to the idle chatter and excited gossip of the guests. This was a much less fussy affair than the Winter Ball - but as an afterparty of sorts, to greet guests cordially as one of the first “informal” parties of the social year, and to introduce the Empress Celene and her recently reconciled lover, the elven Marquise Briala.

Hawke and company, however, had alternative goals in mind.

“Thanks for coming, Hawke,” Varric muttered, feeling rather out of place at the soiree.

“You still haven’t told me why we’re here,” Hawke replied, a little suspiciously. “You’re not one for parties. Well, not this kind of party, anyway.”

Varric sighed. “Just - trust me when I say I’m glad you’re here, all right?”

This time, unlike at Chateau Haine, Varric was wearing an unusually formal shortcoat, and he seemed ever so slightly nervous, shuffling from one foot to the next - which piqued Hawke’s interest, as his best friend almost never showed any signs of things getting to him. Especially social affairs.

Bethany was dressed in an Orlesian gown of periwinkle blue and white, in lush velvet, with a high collar in delicate gold filigree, embellished with designs of leaves and rings, reminiscent of the Circle. It had been a gift from Leliana, sent by courier when she had heard the Good Lady Bethany would be attending her first party at the Winter Palace. Hawke had interpreted this as a nice gesture, but Varric was quick to point out that the Nightingale had probably gifted her the dress as a sort of measure against the Inquisition’s acquaintances, however distant, being played as rubes in the dangerous machinations of the Game - especially when debuting.

Varric seized a beignet from the tray of a passing masked server, staining his gloves immediately with powdered sugar. The server either didn’t notice or pretended not to.

“Are those the ones with the chantilly cream?” Hawke asked, with interest. “Last time I was in Orlais, they had these tiny little beignets full of chantilly cream. And dusted with sugar, just like that. Only I think they had little swans made of gold foil on the top, too.”

Fenris rolled his eyes. “Nobles,” he said, scoffing. “Always trying to outdo one another.”

Varric bit into the beignet, and made a face. “Nope. No cream. It’s filled with something, though.”

“Hmm,” said Hawke, eyeing the server who’d gone off with the tray. “I could go for some something.”

Before he could pop off in search of the most ridiculous food the party had to offer, Varric grabbed him by the coat.

“Have you noticed,” Varric began, very slowly, “That this party is filled to the brim with people who have pissed off the Tevinter Imperium?”

Bethany, who had taken a beignet of her own and was nibbling with interest, nodded along. “Isn’t the majority of Orlais an enemy of the Tevinter Imperium? That’s like saying the Qunari and Tevinter are in a little spat.”

“No,” Varric continued, slowly, looking around again. “I mean, this party, specifically, is full of people who have made specific enemies of the ruling magisters of the Tevinter Imperium.”

Hawke, listening, subtly reached for one of his sheathed daggers, which he’d kept on his attire for an emergency. Most people saw it as a bit of a Hawke-esque flourish, just another quirk of the Champion of Kirkwall. But it comforted him - as both an accessory and an accessory to a quick escape.

Varric, who had finished his beignet, patted down his coat as well - just to make sure Bianca was in play. “We’ll keep an eye out. Could be the Empress just keeps really good company.”

“I’ll admit, it’s a bit of a who’s who of people I’d like to meet,” Hawke said. Was that even a hint of being impressed in his voice?

Fenris, in the meantime, had not let his guard down for one second since entering the gardens, and was stationed just to the back of Hawke, in a position, he subconsciously realized, to thwart any surprise attacks on his charge. What was he to call Hawke, now that they were together, but he still felt compelled to protect him? What did Donnic call Aveline, do you think?

“I don’t trust a thing anyone at this party has put forth,” Fenris said, muttering, darting poisonous glances at the nearest group of nobles, who huddled together and began to giggle, which only infuriated Fenris more.

“Keep it together,” Hawke advised, patting Fenris on the arm. “They’ll probably kick you out if you try to rip out their organs. Although it is rather salacious when you do.”

Fenris frowned, but Hawke winked, boyishly, and he found himself smiling, despite himself.

Towards the group came a meandering group of ladies, all dressed in triplicate; the Empress’s Ladies in Waiting each curtsied lightly, one after the other, like a set of ascending piano keys.

“Messere Hawke,” the first one said, curtseying lowly. Her golden mask glinted in the gaslights that dotted the garden’s walls.

The second one giggled at Varric, and bowed to Bethany, who began to wave, then began to proffer a hand, then, finally, attempted a sort of curtsey, which was rather hard to tell in the voluminous dress Leliana had lent her.

“Why didn’t Mother ever prepare us for this sort of thing?” Bethany hissed, turning ever so slightly to Hawke.

“Mother was trying to run away from this sort of thing when she met Father, I think,” Hawke said, with a smirk.

“It is most pleasurable to see you, Lord Tethras,” the second one continued, to which Varric immediately held up his hands, which were still powdered with beignets.

“Please,” he said, shaking his head. “Just Varric. Thank you. This is hard enough.”

“We’ve read the Tale,” the third one said, nodding at Varric, who - Hawke could tell behind his mask - was already sheepishly shrugging in extreme apology for the fracas that he was about to invite.

“Yes, the Tale,” the second one went on, animatedly. “Is it true, then, that the Champion really defeated the Arishok in hand to hand combat?”

“Well. It was more knife to knife,” Hawke shrugged, with a lopsided grin.

“And is it true, too, that your fellow Isabela ran off with the sacred texts of the Qun?” the first one asked, leaning in, with genuine curiosity.

“Just one book of the Qun, but yes,” Varric admitted.

“And is it true,” the third one said, earnestly, leaning in even further, “That you fought a High Dragon on the outskirts of the Bone Pits?”

Hawke, shrugging again, gave them a bit of a grin. “Fenris was there for that one. Varric, too.”

Tittering, the Ladies all looked at each other, flapping their fans at premium speed. A quick rush of whispers went through them, before they turned again to Hawke.

“We shall have to return, then,” the first one said, smiling coquettishly under her mask.

“And hear more of you and Lord Tethras’s stories,” the second one went on, as Varric winced at the “Lord Tethras” comment once more.

“It was a pleasure, truly,” the third one said, and all three of them curtsied, deeply, again, as Hawke bowed as they took their retreat, into the throng of the gardens.

It was as if they’d narrowly had a brush with a storm - or a windfall.

“Ugh,” Varric groaned. “Remind me to never tell people who I am or what I do, next time.”

“...Did they ignore you?” Hawke asked, looking back at Fenris, who was still standing a small distance away, his heavy, two-handed sword almost dragging in the garden lawn.

Fenris, sighing, barely looked up at Hawke as he dusted off the sword’s hilt. “I believe they are accustomed to people of your stature bringing elven servants as part of your coterie. Perhaps it would have been impolite to acknowledge my existence.”

Frowning, Hawke crossed his arms, glaring after the trio of Ladies-in-Waiting. “Perhaps it’s impolite to ignore you, at all,” Hawke said, scoffing.

Sighing heavily, Varric dusted the last of the beignet sugar off his hands with a clap.

“Well, I’m going to get just drunk enough to forget what’s going on, while being sober enough to remember why I’m here,” he said, stalking off with the firm purpose of a man who’s on a mission for nothing but the worst Antivan wine.

“And I would like to meet some new people,” Bethany said, with enthusiasm. “Is that the Marquess du Pompadour? Do you know her? Can we be introduced?”

“No, but I’m sure she’d be enchanted to meet the great Lady Bethany of House Amell,” Hawke smiled, as Bethany squeezed his arm excitedly before bounding off to introduce herself to Orlais’ best and richest.

“Have fun,” Hawke beamed, wagging his fingers at Bethany as she bounced to the next group of nobles, who already began chatting with her excitedly about the gold filigree neckline and the status of the party’s hors d’oeuvres.

Looking back at Fenris, Hawke frowned - but not at him.

“I don’t mind. Truly,” Fenris said, but his anger betrayed him in the way he wore his face.

Hawke frowned even harder.

“Well, I do,” he said, crossing his arms again. “One of the reasons why I agreed to come to this silly thing was to make up for Chateau Haine in the first place.”

Now, it was Fenris’s turn to frown. “Chateau Haine? I had assumed we came here to pry information out of the Inquisition. To assure their allegiance against the magisters. Or whatever strange twisted plan Varric has fished up.”

Nodding, Hawke waved a hand in the air. “I’m as eager to fight some magisters as the next man,” he said, continuing, “But I really wanted to come and show you a good time. I don’t like how things worked out at Chateau Haine - and I know how you feel about Tallis. I just supposed - perhaps - I wanted to take you to a party, and have you by my side. Properly. For once.”

Hawke looked rather embarrassed at this, and shrugged a little, in his reclaimed part-Hawke Estate part-leftover-guardsman-formal-uniform combination of attire.

“Hawke…”

Fenris’s eyes glinted in the moonlight. He reached for Hawke’s arm, and squeezed it.

“If you wish to have me by your side, you need only ask.”

Hawke, smiling, sweetly against the honeyed air of the garden, squeezed his hand back.

“I always need you by my side, Fenris,” he said, softly.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the party, Dorian Pavus was getting drunk. Very, very drunk.

He had harangued Josephine for an invitation to the Inaugural Ball, and, despite her best efforts, he had finessed his way into blackmailing, cajoling, and, in one case, outright bribing assorted members of Skyhold staff into bugging the Ambassador straight into sending Dorian one of the Inquisition’s coveted invitations to Empress Celene and Marquise Briala’s first ball, formally thrown together. Not counting the last one, of course. He felt he deserved it, after all, since he was both the life of the party and present for when they got together. The second time, anyway.

Dorian was engaging in one of his favorite pastimes - flirting with the masked drinksman serving the flutes of violet cocktail - when he was jostled by another patron, elbowing his way in.

“Ale, please. Not dwarven. Please tell me you have ale that isn’t dwarven. Everyone says it’s top notch but it just tastes like piss, and I know it does, so don’t tell me otherwise.”

Dorian’s ears perked up. That voice. It sounded weirdly familiar. Weirdly… Fereldan.

Looking over, the man next to him, wearing a simple silver mask with blue silk piping, slumped over, sighing, putting his head in his hands. His dirty blonde hair was just barely poking out of the back of the silks of the mask, and he had the stature of someone who had spent a long, long time training as a warrior - and an even longer time sitting around afterwards, getting all antsy as those muscles waited for their next workout. The man tapped his fingers on the table - and his heavy rings clanked against the delicate, white-lacquered wood. One demon head ring, as big as two knucklebones. One thick, silver sigil, like the symbols carved on the tunnels in the Deep Roads marking the location of Darkspawn. And, on his ring finger, a delicate, tiny silver band, with the smallest of silver roses, inlaid with flakes of mother-of-pearl and red ruby.

Dorian raised his eyebrows.

“You’re not very subtle, Your Highness,” he said, leaning against the bar, rolling his R’s. Loaded, like bait.

Startled, the man turned around, coughing and straightening up, making sure his mask was covering his face.

“We’ve met,” Dorian went on, somewhat relishing in the man’s uncomfortableness. “However briefly. I believe you know my paramour, Lord Angus Trevelyan? He has nothing but good things to say about you. King Alistair.”

The man, startled, whipped his head back around to the bar, to make sure nobody was listening, then, as best he could, made an extremely frustrated gesture at Dorian, hunching over, clearly annoyed.

“Have we met?” he said, irritably. “Because you are absolutely blowing my cover, here. …Which would make you, I suppose, a likely candidate for Angus’s new boyfriend. Which is who I suppose you are.”

Alistar sighed, and put his elbows back on the bartop. The server returned with a large flagon of ale, and Alistair placed several sovereigns on the bar. The server sniffed.

“We don’t take Fereldan currency, messere,” he sneered, pushing the coins back towards him. Alistair - even with a mask on - looked utterly defeated.

“Here,” Dorian said, hiding a smirk, pushing a handful of shiny Orlesian gold pieces towards the server, who nodded curtly, and disappeared back behind the bar.

“Thank you,” King Alistair groaned, putting his head between his arms. “You would not believe the amount of social faux pas I’ve racked up tonight. If I’d gone as myself, Orlais and Ferelden would be back at war by now.”

Dorian looked at him curiously. “Why are you here, if I may ask?”

Alistair shook his head. “Ale first. State secrets later.”

Dorian laughed. “You’re cute. I see why you’ve got the whole country wrapped around your little finger.”

“I do?” Alistair said, surprised.

“Not this one. They seem to think you’re a gauche little imp, here,” Dorian said, airily.

Alistair frowned.

“Ferelden,” Dorian clarified. “I hear you and your little wife are something out of a fairy tale, a Grey Warden King and Queen alike. Must be some sight to see. Does seem rather romantic, in a way.”

Alistair paused, then, slumping even further, let out a sigh that seemed to shake the very foundations of Halamshiral, let alone the bartop.

At that moment, Dorian remembered the other thing Angus had told him about Alistair - the important thing.

“Ooh. Ah. Sorry. I - I know it must be difficult, with your wife missing, and all. I’m sure - I’m sure she’s busy doing, ah. Grey Warden. Things.” Dorian thought about this for a moment. “Ah. Oh dear.”

Alistair looked hopeless, but downed his entire ale in a resolute gesture of bravery. “Lord Dorian of House Pavus, right?” he said, straining his last Kingly muscle to make the most out of the situation.

“Yes. Please don’t tell anyone I’ve so successfully put my foot in my mouth,” Dorian said - charmingly. As charmingly as possible, under the circumstances.

Alistair sighed. “You’re part of the Inquisition, then. You - were at Adamant.”

Dorian shook his head. “Not personally, no. …And don’t get me started on how I feel about that. Have you ever had your boyfriend go off into the Fade and have you think he was dead for almost twenty-four hours? No, I suppose not.”

Alistair gave him a withering look.

“...Right, missing wife, right,” Dorian said, hastily. “Here. I shall buy you another ale, and I’ll answer everything you wish to know about our visit to Adamant, as told by Lord Trevelyan himself. But no promises on me remembering everything correctly. I’ve had quite a lot of champagne.”

Alistair sighed, then nodded, solemnly. “Everything?”

“Everything.”

Finishing off his ale, Alistair motioned to the bartender for another, while Dorian slipped over another handful of silver coins.

“Then let’s begin,” Dorian said, with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous grin.

#dragon age #return to halamshiral #god i love fuckin' writing fenhawke. gaaaawd #and also fancy parties.#dragon age fic #dragon age fanfic #fenhawke #m!hawke #purple hawke #da:i oc #da2 oc #dorian pavus #alistair theirin #fenris #bethany hawke #varric tethras #andey hawke #antoinette cousland #queen cousland

26 notes · View notes

thetasteofsunshineonyourtongue · 2 years

Text

ID: A digital drawing of Sharpe from Skyjacks: Courier's Call in a scene from episode 23. She's standing with one hand on her heart and the other raised casually next to her. She is saying, "Tell me where Harry is, and I will let you go. Changeling's honor." Sharpe is a tall young woman with a thin face with a scar over an eye covered with an eye patch. She had long black hair with a white streak that runs through it in a half-updo. She's wearing a leather shortcoat with striped sleeves rolled up to her elbows, over a green waistcoat unbuttoned over an off-white shirt tied at the neck with a yellow striped cravat. She's wearing blue and white striped breeches belted at the waist. The belt has a knife, several pouches, and odd trinkets hanging from it. She's standing in a forest of birch trees with unnatural red and blue leaves. End ID.

I just think I could fix her y'know

#skyjacks cc #skyjacks couriers call #skyjacks fanart #couriers call fanart #couriers call #my art #Sharpe couriers call #im trying out a new coloring style I really like it #I JUST MISS HER #whats she doin rn huh #is she in the queens court serving her punishment for failing??#AUGJ I just love her sm #skyjacks #also I don't think I'm able to draw changelings in outfits that aren't earth tones #also. makes all of the cool people left handed. to give them flavor. that je nais see quois #sunny's art corner

22 notes · View notes

stoportotouch · 11 months

Text

wip game

(tagged by @kittensmctavish! thank you!)

The Rules are these:

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

---

things i'm working on are:

faith will cover your head (still)

also two further Parts of that

snow blindness? maybe? (but also that one might be finished now idk. it is quite close to rejoining The Canon)

something where ned gets sick of being in charge of stuff and hodgson uh. Helps Him To Remedy That.

the one where ned accidentally broke a couple of dundy's ribs

[piles up trauma on top of a few Terror Rescuees like the game buckaroo]

---

here is a snippet from the one where ned accidentally breaks a couple of dundy's ribs. (content warning for a mention of overdose, but not an intentional one. and also whatever the hell is going on in ned's mind when irving gets stabbed even if from somebody else's pov.)

“And…” Bridgens seemed for the first time to register Le Vesconte, standing behind Goodsir. “Lieutenant Le Vesconte, Sir. Is everything well with you?”

“Oh, as it could be, Mister Bridgens,” Le Vesconte said, in a poor imitation of his earlier, easy, way. It clearly rung hollowly to Bridgens’ ears, but, bless him, he didn’t give any indication of it — just smiled. “Doctor Goodsir is concerned about my ribs,” he said. “And no doubt would like to treat a patient who is able to have a conversation.”

“Your ribs, sir?” Bridgens asked, although he didn’t seem too concerned that Le Vesconte was imminently in danger of death. “Ah — let me help you off with your outer layers, then, if that’s the case.”

And, luckily, Bridgens caught Le Vesconte just before he began taking his shortcoat or shirt off, rather than after he had already worsened his injuries by trying to move his arms too far. Goodsir could only imagine that he would also have stopped had he got his arms high enough, but no doubt he would have made a very embarrassing noise when he did so.

“Lieutenant Little has some very sharp elbows.” As he spoke, Le Vesconte lowered himself gingerly onto one of the tables that served as an examination bed. Bridgens nodded, and made an affirming noise. “And a man who suddenly finds that no small part of his world seems about to be permanently cut off from him in front of his eyes is capable of putting great force behind his elbows. As I have discovered.”

As he said this, Le Vesconte didn’t just lower his voice but his entire demeanor, and Goodsir saw the way that his eyes flickered over for a second towards Irving. He was still very much alive — Le Vesconte had probably been the one to save him from death, in fact — but Goodsir could still understand his distress.

“I can imagine, sir.”

Bridgens might still have called Le Vesconte ‘sir’, but his tone was not so much that of a Steward speaking to the Lieutenant that he served. Perhaps it was just the gulf in their ages that put the idea in Goodsir’s head but he was no less reminded of a father reassuring his son after a nightmare.

“After I have seen to this,” Goodsir said, helping Le Vesconte get his shirt off without raising his arms above his chest, “I think I shall need to call in on Lieutenant Little.”

He had taken the fact that Little had been trembling when he had looked in as an indicator just of the trauma, and he had paid it limited further mind. Of course he was traumatised, and probably exhausted, and possibly in pain: after all, Irving had just nearly died in front of him. (So Goodsir had thought.)

But his head had been set racing by Le Vesconte’s mention of not knowing how much laudanum had actually got into Little’s mouth.

Goodsir couldn’t remember quite how strong the tincture was but it wasn’t something that was meant to be drunk. A spoonful of it, perhaps, would have slowed him — although in whatever state Little had been in he doubted that it would have done so much. Much more, though, would have produced some rather concerning side effects.

Goodsir wasn’t sure if he suspected that Le Vesconte had accidentally given Little an overdose of the stuff or if he was just suspicious. By the time it had seemed to kick in, Jopson had been kneeling on Little’s back to keep him at least fairly still. Goodsir had, at the time, assumed that his voice had become slurred with weeping, and he probably hadn’t been completely wrong about that.

---

tagging anybody who fancies it!

#ollie considers #ollie writes

4 notes · View notes

juliejones7567-blog · 2 months

Link

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Jack BB Dakota LARGE black pea coat waist length detachable hood snap.

0 notes

vlst-tblr · 1 year

Photo

mink fur shortcoat foxやrabittとは明らかに違うオーラエコファーも良いけど本当のエコは現存する資源の再利用良いものは残るし、残したいと思うから次へ繋ぎたくなる刺し毛の奥に見える綿毛は蜃気楼 #minkfur #ミンクファー #毛皮 #コート #janebirkin #ジェーンバーキン #VELISTA #ヴェリスタ (VELISTA) https://www.instagram.com/p/CntawE5vkwm/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#minkfur #ミンクファー #毛皮 #コート #janebirkin #ジェーンバーキン #velista #ヴェリスタ

0 notes

saffianoleather · 3 years

Photo

Clarence Black Hooded Leather Coat With Fur Trim Available at Our Store In Various Sizes In High Quality Leather With ultimate discount Offer Free Shipping All Over The World. For Further Detail Kindly Visit Our Websites Or Message Us.

SHOP NOW : https://bit.ly/3x9qUJV

#Leather #Coat #LeatherCoat #BikerCoat #FurCoat #Fur #Shearling #Men #Black #FurStyle #shortcoat

6 notes · View notes

cavane · 1 year

Photo

styling gallery cavane No color double-coatコート / ca-21144 made in Japan メルトンウール(※) SUPER120S ノーカラーコートドロップショルダーのゆったりとしたシルエット、サイズ感でノンストレスな着心地肩先の落ちた肩線で、丸みのあるライン、ワイドシルエットのショート丈のディテール。鈍い光沢感のある上質なウールを原料にした滑らかで極上のタッチと保温性に優れたコートとなります。 Please the contact below for more information 詳細は下記よりオンラインストアをご利用下さいませ。 https://cavane.shop ・・・ cavane NO : ca-21144 ITEM : No color double-coatコート TYPE : women SIZE : F COLOR : VINTAGE BLACK ( limited ) STOCK：1 (一点モノ）※ 素材表地：毛 (wool)100% 裏地：キュプラ(cupro)100% 付属：ホーンボタン (horn) 大量生産ではないため、限られた数しか生産できない「cavane（キャヴァネ）」の服。時間をかけて一点一点製作をしております。独特の膨らみ・シワ感・色の奥行きを表現しております。ヴィンテージのように、着る人の好みによって生地のエイジング感を育てられます。スーパーファインウール (※) ノーカラーコート防寒性も高く、高級感漂う佇まいも魅力で馴染んだ風合いある仕上がり。シワになりにくく、ふっくらとした素材感とゆとりのあるシルエットとなります。内側は滑らかなシルクタッチのキュプラ素材を採用しており、細部まで総裏地仕立てとなります。・前立ては各5ツボタン=計10ツ付いたダブルブレストのデザイン・袖・両サイド裾下にスリット入り・両サイドに大きな内ポケット・ボタンは天然の水牛ホーンボタン一点もの商品となります。カジュアルなスタイルから、クラシック・ヴィンテージまで幅広いテイストに溶け込むデザインとなります。生地について：こちらのファブリックは、スーパーファインウール=SUPER120Sを使用しております。きめ細かい上質なウール原料を使用したコート素材。表面の毛足は短く仕上げられたメルトン素材で、クラシカルでエレガントな印象となります。ぬめりのある滑らかな肌触りは、上質な原料を最大限に引き出した少量生産によるファブリックとなります。すべて手作業によって完成され洋服が作られます。工程は大量生産とは比較にならないほど手間がかかり、糸は不均衡なためネップ・糸むらや節などの特徴があります。ヴィンテージ感の雰囲気、味わい深い素材をお楽しみくださいませ。モデル着用画像身長 158cm ・・ DM・MAIL迄お問い合わせください。 online upしました⇨ https://cavane.shop #cavane_fashion #nocolorcoat #woolcoat #fashionphoto #doublebleast #handmade #vintage #frenchstyle #eurowork #super120s #shortcoat #cavane #22aw #メルトンウール #ダブルブレスト #ヴィンテージ #ショートコート #ノーカラーコート #秋冬 (Cavane) https://www.instagram.com/p/CmC_Ue2vMo_/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#cavane_fashion #nocolorcoat #woolcoat #fashionphoto #doublebleast #handmade #vintage #frenchstyle #eurowork #super120s #shortcoat #cavane #22aw #メルトンウール #ダブルブレスト #ヴィンテージ #ショートコート #ノーカラーコート #秋冬

0 notes

gallerynamba · 5 months

Text

◇ELEVENTY FEMME(イレブンティファム)◇コートが入荷しました。定価：253,000円(税込)⇒SALE価格：177,100円(税込) 弊社通販サイト商品ページ⇒http://www.gallery-jpg.com/item/498-71601001/ MADE IN ITALY 素材： (表地)毛49％、羊毛31％、ナイロン20％ (中ワタ)ポリエステル100％ (裏地)レーヨンカラー：ライトグレー×チャコールグレーサイズ：42 着丈約108cm、肩幅約43cm、袖丈約62.5cm、バスト約108cm、ウエスト約110cm、ヒップ約114cm (平置きの状態で測っています。) elevnty(イレヴンティ)の中でも更にランクの高い、上質なクオリティを誇る『elevnty platinum(イレヴンティプラチナ)』。アルパカ混ウール生地にシャギー加工を施した、さらりとした手触りの身頃。身頃の下部で徐々にグレーからチャコールへグラデーションになるようにデザインされています。ワイドノッチドラペル。ダブルブレスト。見た目はコートですが裏地に拘り、中ワタ入りのキルティングを縫い付けています。仕立てが良いので着るだけで美しいシルエットが生まれます。在庫ラスト１点です。 ※ご覧頂いている媒体により、色の見え方が多少変わる場合がございます。 ※店頭でも同商品を販売しておりますので、通販サイトの在庫反映が遅れる場合があり商品をご用意出来ない場合がございます。予めご了承頂きますようお願い致します。 Gallery なんばCITY本館1F店〒542-0076 大阪府大阪市中央区難波5-1-60 なんばCITY本館1階【営業時間】11:00～21:00 【休館日】12月無休 31日のみ18時まで営業　　　 1月1日休館 1月2日 9:30より営業 1月3日より平常営業【PHONE】06-6644-2526 【e-mail】[email protected]

【なんばCITY店Facebook】https://goo.gl/qYXf6I

【ゴルチェ派Facebook】https://goo.gl/EVY9fs

【instagram】http://instagram.com/gallery_jpg

【Twitter】https://twitter.com/gallery_jpg_vw

【tumblr.】https://gallerynamba.tumblr.com/

【ブログ】http://ameblo.jp/gallery-jpg/

【オンラインショップ】http://gallery-jpg.com/

0 notes

cocojapan-blog1 · 6 years

Photo

Japanese used Haori a short coat for formal kimono. These are antique Haoris. Ask cocojapan the details if you're interested in those. #haori #lovejapanese #lovejapan #kimono #japanesestyle #ancientkimono #shortcoat

#ancientkimono #kimono #lovejapanese #lovejapan #haori #shortcoat #japanesestyle

74 notes · View notes

margot-kanazawa · 4 years

Photo

. gasa*grue 「エトルタの波」ショートコート / black . 今からの季節にこそ着たいアウター、その②。 gasa*grueの接結キルティングのショート丈コート。ショート丈のアウターは最近好きなものを見つけるのが難しい。ロング丈のコートが増えているのと、私がロング丈が好きなのと。だからこそ、セレクトしているショート丈アウターは、気に入っているものばかりです。 . このgasa*grueのショートコートは、接結キルティングなので薄めな生地感ですが暖かく、身幅がゆったりしているので、中にニットも着込めます。寒い日にも、春の暖かくなってきた日にも着てほしい1枚です。 . ショートコート #gasagrue ブラウス、スカート #garmentreproductionofworkers お気に入りにコーディネートになりました☺️ . . #springfashion #shortcoat #margot_kanazawa (マーゴ - margot) https://www.instagram.com/p/B8jEkJnFOt5/?igshid=df5gmb4tllh1

#gasagrue #garmentreproductionofworkers #springfashion #shortcoat #margot_kanazawa

0 notes

Last Seen Blogs

livingforstars

Exploring The Universe

zaidib

What's New Pussy Cats!!

fox-blabs

The Feylandian Scrolls

massivenerdthing

The Unfathomable Well of Somethings

telejkin

U-1976