clothing staples

Look SugarBaby Chic without Breaking Your Bank Account

So I’ve come across a lot of questions in the past on how to look good without compromising your bank balance. Sugaring is competitive, and as much as we love our sugar sisters… We’re all in the same bowl. There’s sugar babies who are stunting in red bottoms flaunting Rolex arm candy, and there’s sugar babies running around in denim and tops. (Totally not looking down on either.) We often forget that men are visual creatures, and most of them are attracted to a woman that knows how to dress well. If you want to be a rich man’s choicest arm candy, then you best start dressing the part. You can’t expect to have the Ritz Carlton experience with a Holiday Inn & Suites package. Money attracts money. Starting out not many of us have designer this and designer that. I certainly didn’t own anything designer starting out. Other than a few presents from family & vanilla men. So here’s how I started out… Firstly I got myself a vanilla job. Retail is great for this, plus one for those employee perks! I worked a few months to save some money for a decent wardrobe. I shopped at places like: Ross, TJ Maxx, Marshals, Nordstrom Rack, Plato’s Closet, Amiclubwear, HotMiamiStyles & Tradesy. This allowed me to purchase new, previously loved, and discounted clothing at a fraction of the MSRP (manufacturers suggested retail price). I purchased dresses, ankle pants, chiffon tops, blazers, accessories, & lingerie (new of course). The key is to avoid anything flashy for instance a black top with Boss B#%* or something like that written on it. The key is to dress professional, chic, & keep versatility in mind. When I say versatile, I mean a blazer that can be professional with a collared shirt but still look chill with a pink chiffon top when you roll up the sleeves. As a sugar baby you’ll be exposed to things women your age aren’t. Things like flying private or taking weekend/ day trips with your SD for pleasure or work. Each and every occasion needs to have an appropriate outfit. Think of all the scenarios you could possibly be in and purchase outfits accordingly. A sugar baby can never be over dressed. These men are willing to pay top dollar for women out there. Your first few sugar daddies are like your foundation pillars. Make sure you sift the salt daddies away! The first few ones need to be taking you shopping for items you cannot buy without breaking your bank account. For example, it’s Cocoa Cathy’s 22nd birthday, and her daddy asks her what she wants. Cocoa Cathy should be saying, “Well Daddy, for my birthday I’d like my allowance as usual, but I would absolutely love it if you’d be able to get me a handbag I’ve been eyeing for quite a while!” If Daddy is pure sugar he will say, “I’d be more than happy to buy you that handbag! Look it up & I’ll forward you my card details.” This is sugar! Cocoa Cathy knows that this daddy just went through a brutal divorce so she knows not to ask for a Celine. She instead opts for two handbags from the $800-1K range. She lets Daddy pick which one would look better, and of course daddy goes for the expensive one. This shows how much Daddy enjoys Cocoa Cathy’s company, and he knows that Cocoa Cathy has sophisticated taste. (just an example) You should utilize your allowance to purchase staple sugar clothing items like palazzo pants or cardigans. There’s no need for a sugar baby to be a brand ambassador wearing 20 different designer labels. Often, this gives your sugar daddy the vibe that you already have it all. Be smart when purchasing your initial sugar wardrobe. You don’t have to break your bank account doing so. We all know we’re sugaring to one day run into a Whale Daddy, but until then those 2-3K/ month daddies aren’t bad! Also make sure you still have personality! Your wardrobe can only sell you so much! Your personality really signs seals and delivers your arrangement. For my new babies, please do not wear your heart on your wrist. These men are brutal and will try to talk down to you. They will try to make you feel like you’re not worth that 2-3K allowance. That’s a huge red flag for you to move on! Never compromise your allowance range.

Originally posted by evagutowskipoland

yiffkashit  asked:

Question is, are Shiro and Pidge a hot topic couple or a H&M couple?

trick question. they are both.

the two probably have enough nerdy/pop culture/space-related hot topic shirts between them to clothe every worker at NASA but you can bet when they actually have to leave the house they pull out those H & M solid color clothing staples that make you look on point with the bare minimum effort. 

even better is when you mix the two. the refined nerd look™

tumblr fucking vored the draft I save of this request.
Original Request: HCs of Dazai & Chuuya with a chubby female s/o who is insecure with her body.


• Dazai’s hands are magnetized to your body—generally in very public places and at not so private times. He doesn’t cross the line of PG-13 (unless he’s trying to bribe you into a quickie), but he tends to move his hands on places he knows you’re not entirely confident in. Dazai pulls you on his lap and runs his fingers up your thighs murmuring about how much he loves them, or will wrap his arms over your waist and give you a squeeze with a smile. He’s not trying to be (too) perverted—he just wants you to be comfortable with how you are, and he thinks the best way is to shower you with public affection.

• He’s well aware he’s a pretty thin dude, but he doesn’t want you defer you from wearing his clothes. Instead of pushing the cliché of you drowning in his button ups he drops comments about how good you look with his dress shirts hugging your curves in such a delicious way. For colder weather Dazai buys incredibly oversized sweaters, wears them once or twice, and then leaves them in your sightline so you’re prompted to throw them during cold winter mornings. Regardless of the season Dazai loves seeing you in his clothes for a short period of time; they usually end up on the floor within twenty minutes.

• Dazai tends to avoid media that portrays slimmer figures as the ideal body and will take you on a ten minute detour to avoid some ridiculous billboard advertising something he knows will lower your confidence. As much as Dazai wishes he could jam it into your brain that you’re perfect he’s no idiot and is perfectly content slowly building your confidence if that’s what it takes. He’ll loop you around hidden alleyways and all his secret pathways he discovered in his mafia days just to get to that one noodle stand you love acting like a Yokohama tour guide with a weird accent and fake facts about the buildings and history.

• Asking Dazai how you look in an outfit is pointless, unless he really hates what you’re wearing he always replies with “you’re beautiful! But I like you better naked”. If anything he tries to pull your top a little lower or life that dress a bit higher—playfully of course. Shopping with Dazai is painful for multiple reasons, but he does keep it entertaining. Depending on how bored he gets tries to slip in the dressing room with you.


• Body worship is his biggest tool to get you to love yourself the way he does. At times he doesn’t even use as foreplay he just wants to boost your confidence. Lazy days on the couch lead to him peppering kisses from the edge of your chin down your chest and to your stomach. Fingertips running up and down your sides as he moves. Between kisses he drops compliments left and right and glares daggers if you push his compliments away or disagree with him.

• Tailored clothes are a staple in your closet and Chuuya won’t have it any other way. No matter your personal style Chuuya tosses his credit card to his favorite tailor and has them make any article of clothing you want fit just right. Confidence is feeling good in the clothes you wear and Chuuya wants you to feel your best even if you’re sporting sweatpants and a tank top. He does slip in a few custom designed lingerie pieces as a surprise.

• If lights during sex make you uncomfortable Chuuya installs dimmers so there’s only a soft, peachy glow in the bedroom. Chuuya loves seeing you as much as he does feeling you but if you’re not enjoying yourself to the fullest then what’s the point? Even if you push to keep on a t-shirt or something to cover a part of your body Chuuya works around it no matter how much he just wants to rip it off. • Chuuya is very accustomed to the wandering eyes that tend to follow him in bars. Generally he ignores it—he couldn’t give a fuck less—but if it’s starting to make your confidence drop he pours all of his attention into you. Kissing your neck, loudly talking about how beautiful look and making it transparently clear he is with you and only you. Chuuya hates the look you get when a woman saunters up to him licking their lips. He’s snapped at a few people for interrupting his time with you and making you feel inferior.

anonymous asked:

how do you make your patches? i want to make some for my jacket but i'm not sure how to / what i need

everyone probably has their own process but here’s the easiest way to do it:

  • think up a design and throw it together in photoshop, maybe put the image on a photo of a jacket or pants so you can see what it’s going to look like before you make it
  • when you have your design finalized (preferably in black and white for ease), print it out in the actual size you need it to be (measure!!!! once twice three times!!! measure until you know its correct!!!!)
  • get an exacto knife and cut out all the black on the paper. here you have a very low budget stencil
  • get a stapler and try your best to staple the stencil to your article of clothing. if you cant staple it, just hold onto the side of the paper for the next step
  • with your stencil on your jacket/pants, get some fabric paint and a brush and fill in the stencil. don’t get crazy with paint just yet. keep your strokes light and gentle, you can always go back and fill in the color how you want. right now you just want to make sure the lines are solid
  • as soon as you have a light layer of paint down, carefully remove the stencil (go slow!!!!!!! be patient!!!!!!)
  • let that shit dry for a while. depending on the paint, it shouldnt be more than half an hour (to be safe)
  • i like to let my paint sit over night, and then i get my clothing iron out and iron the paint into the fabric. this is gonna keep it from coming off in the wash.
  • that’s it!!! youre done :))))

let me know if you need recommendations on paint brands etc!!!!!

anonymous asked:

Carter coming home from a long business trip to be greeted by your three year old daughter. Dressed in all his expensive ties. But he doesn't mind, he just laughs scooping her up kissing all over her face as she giggles "you'll be a fashion designer before we know it my little star" fast forward years later and you and Carter as sitting front row beaming as your daughter release her first line of clothing with the staple Carter Tie in the men's line

I love everything about this and also she brings her dad up on stage to say thank you 

Daddy Wednesday™

To Not Be Troubled by the Sea

The sun hung high in the sky, bathing the small cottage and the surrounding land in a sweltering heat as it often did at this hour of the day. While a breeze often came from the nearby coast, carrying the familiar scent of saltwater and the sense of possibility it once entailed, today it provided little reprieve. James focused instead on the calling of birds as they soared overhead and the gentle hum of the cicada as he worked. The land he had taken to farming was by no means impressive; it was a few acres at most. Yet after several years of hard work, not to mention an excruciating period of trial and error, he now grew enough fruits and vegetables to support a small family. He had potatoes, some corn and wheat, a patch of lettuce, and an apple tree,among others. There was also a smaller area specifically for herbs as well as a chicken coop. He was now completely self reliant, just as his goal had been all along. To be able to get by from the merits of his own labor and to be able to trade for what necessities he couldn’t scavenge for himself. More often than naught he traded the usual staples for clothing, books, and other goods he needed or desired. If that wouldn’t suffice he would offer up his skills as a carpenter. Though he hadn’t had a hand in it since he was a young lad, it seemed to be a set of skills difficult for one to forget.

It was hard work, but it was honest work. It kept him well fed and comfortable, but most importantly it kept him busy. After nearly a decade of piracy and bloody battles at sea, it was the simple peace he had long come to crave. One where he could set up a life that didn’t constantly revolve around bloodshed, war, and the chase of their next prize. He had decided on this small colony in perhaps the first few steps inland. It was overseen by a fairly competent governor, but it’s true merits came in the form of its small amount of citizens and remote location. It was certainly not a poor town, but was just prosperous enough to support itself without drawing the threat of piracy. Here most wouldn’t even know the name “Captain Flint”, let alone recognize his face. While that was no longer a name he went by, it still provided a great comfort to know that here he would not have to peer over his shoulder for men hunting pirates to hang in the square. Here he would be just another weary face. Simple, plain, and easily forgotten.

Four years had passed since he had first arrived here. Four years since he and his men had reclaimed Nassau from her self-appointed governor, since they became free from England’s tyranny and he had turned his back on his old life. On his men, on the Walrus, and on John Silver. And where was he now? Living a mundane yet pleasant life in a small town under English rule.

James had never appreciated irony.

The man now stood from where he had been kneeling down in the garden and did his best to brush the earth from his hands. They were still hardened from years of work. Scarred, calloused, and worn. Vaguely he thought back to how soft Silver’s hands had been the first time he felt that touch. Back then when they first met they were two entirely different people. He recounted the smooth palms, soft and free from scars as the man had spent most of his life avoiding labor and serious scuffles with his silver tongue and quick feet. Yet after Charlestown that had changed drastically. By the time Nassau was reclaimed the man was perhaps just as hardened as he. Just as scarred, just as broken, just as bloody. Even though he had descended into the same darkness his other partners had, Silver seemed only to thrive from its twisted depths. His intelligence and cleverness seemed to strengthen, as did his insight and newfound loyalty. He had become a strong presence not just to the men but to himself. And yet, once again Flint had found himself losing the love of his life. Only this time it was not due to death’s inevitable embrace, but by choice.

An incredibly moronic choice, but a choice nonetheless.

How he had wanted to ask Silver to come with him. To throw his pride to the wind, and to plead and beg and do whatever else he needed to make it so. Yet he couldn’t. He wouldn’t allow himself to be selfish. Not with Silver, not anymore. As much as he craved the thought of them taking to the skivvy together to leave the life of bloodshed behind them, he couldn’t. Silver had built himself a life from these men. One where he was not only needed, but both feared and adored. The man finally had something to be proud of, something that gave him cause and purpose, something that was greater than himself. He would be damned if he were to steal that away from him. He remembered all too well how it had been when he had first risen to his captaincy in Nassau. It was through that where he had truly found himself, and now it was time for Silver to undertake that journey.

Of course, James could never permit himself to turn his back on the man completely. After fervently explaining to Silver his plan and the reasoning behind it, and after prying the pistol from his hands after hours of heated arguing, he granted the man a shred of honesty. He felt he deserved no less. He told him that he still loved him, that he likely always would, but this was just something he had to do. While the words seemed to fall flat the moment they left his tongue he felt the need to voice them nonetheless. Once Silver had calmed enough to actually listen, James went on to explain that whenever he too wished to walk from the sea he would be able to find him again. In retrospect, he was a fool to even consider that Silver would follow in his footsteps. Not after this level of a betrayal; not after how he so clearly broke the man he had come to see as his equal. When the man first arrived to this place he spent many a day staring out at the sea. He would look out to the water, scanning for ships along the edge of the horizon just in the arrogant hope that he couldn’t be apart from him. After several weeks his hopes had dwindled to the stark reality of the situation. Even if Silver dis one day decide to follow in his footsteps, it would not be now. Silver was too hurt, too proud, and far too stubborn. He knew his duties to the men. And so James eventually realized that even if that day did come, he would have to wait for it.

Yet as the months began to trickle by, and those months turned into years, eventually Flint stopped gazing out towards the sea altogether.

James pushed the thoughts from his mind as he gathered up the basket of squash and potatoes he had collected. He wouldn’t allow his thoughts to wander off to Silver. It had taken him far too long to wrestle himself from the tight grip the man held on him, even in his absence. He had developed a routine, built a life, and he would not squander it on regrets of the past. On things that could no longer be changed. While it had taken him far too long, he had finally done as Miranda had always wished. He had forgiven himself and let go. Of his past atrocities, of his failures, of letting go of John Silver. James collected himself as best he could before heading down the hill to the market to trade, just as he has done twice a week for the past few years.

By the time James made his way back up the hill towards his home, his basket had been filled with an assortment of different items. A fresh loaf of bread and cheese and a new white cotton shirt. The sweltering sun had fallen behind a line of dark clouds and the wind began to bend the trees with a growing force. A storm was coming. It had been more than a week without rain and so he welcomed the weather. He just hoped the garden wouldn’t flood again and that the wind would be more merciful. He wasn’t too keen on spending another full day picking up felled, bruised fruit and clearing debris and broken branches.

When he came around the bend in the small path his mind stalled, his breath stilling in his chest. The front door to his home stood slightly ajar, the wood around the lock having been smashed through. Immediately James cursed himself for not carrying a blade or pistol with him. While his initial reasoning was quite pragmatic, an armed farmer would only draw attention and suspicion after all, it certainly would have been useful now. He set down the basket before slowly making his way towards the door. Multiple weapons were hidden throughout the house, but now he realized he should probably have some stashed outside as well. There was no horse stabled and nothing could be seen through the few windows he had. If it was someone intending to do him harm or launch an ambush, surely they would have been intelligent enough to slip in through a window around back. A thief, then? The thought itself was laughable. The outward appearance of both himself and his home openly displayed his lack of wealth. And what coins he did have were well-hidden. Yet as he drew closer to the porch he had his answer.

Footprints. Or rather, one boot print with a deeper circular mark to its left. Distinctive of a fake leg or crutch.

James swallowed down the lump that had formed in his throat. Suddenly his mouth felt dry and a tongue slid out to wet his lips. Could it be..? No. No, surely not. It’s been far too long. And what’s more, the impression left by Silver’s iron boot was different. Smaller and flat on the back end. But what if…? Already his mind was drowning beneath a sea of turbulent thoughts, and all he wanted to do was turn around and go back into town. Maybe for a few hours, maybe a day, maybe he would find passage on a ship and leave altogether. But the desire to know for sure quickly steeled its hold on him. Before he could change his mind he collected his basket and pushed the door open. Green eyes scanned the room only briefly before that voice made him still in his tracks. Familiar, warm, comforting.

“He must take up an oar and walk inland, and keep walking until someone mistakes that oar for a shovel. For that would be a place where no man has ever been troubled by the sea, and that’s where he’d find peace.” A chuckle. “You told me this story of Odysseus so many times.. And where do I find you? In a cottage right by the fucking ocean.”

James’ eyes closed, suddenly feeling unbearably tired, before releasing a firm breath. “You broke through my door.” Those were not the words he wished to speak, not even close, but it was all he could manage at the moment.

Another soft laugh lilted through the room. “Come now. I’m sure a busted lock is no trouble for a carpenter such as yourself. What name is it you’re going by now? James Barlow?”

Flint’s thumb rotated the ring on his forefinger slowly before he finally stole the courage to turn around and face the intruder. Silver stood in the far corner of the room beside the door, a crutch leaning against the wall beside him. The iron leg was just as unmistakable as that mop of dark curls. Lips pressed into a firm line as he took in the sight before him. The man looked completely different yet exactly the same. The dark ringlets had grown longer but were still partially pulled back in a queue. His beard and mustache were neatly trimmed and those blue eyes were just as piercing and captivating as they had always been. Intelligent, light, and as beautiful as the ocean depths. Still, the man looked unusually tired. Not that he could blame him, with the mess he had been left to clean up. Not to mention the toll captaincy often took, especially to a newcomer, resulted in a distinct lack of sleep.

Again James struggled to find the words, any words. After a moment Silver seemed to pick up on this and continued, thereby allowing him the slight reprieve necessary so he could move further into the house. “I always liked the name ‘Barlow’, though. And it seems rather fitting, all things considered.”

James frowned. “I’d grown tired of thinking up new aliases to go by,” he explained simply.

Silver offered a contented hum. “May I sit down?” he asked after a moment. “My leg has grown rather sore waiting around for you.”

Already James could feel the beginnings of a migraine. The man doesn’t bat an eye at breaking and entering, but he needs permission to take a seat at his table. As before his logic was infallible. “Of course,” he muttered out. He listened to the familiar step-thunk-step as his old quartermaster made his way over to the table, leaving the crutch in its spot against the wall. In the meantime James moved into the kitchen to set the basket down on the counter. “Tea?” he asked, if only for something to fill the silence.

A chuckle filled the space, soon followed by a, “Please. Anything’s better than rum at this point.”

James was quiet as he set the kettle above the newly kindled fire and set to work about some food. While he hadn’t asked for it, based on the man’s state he was surely hungry. Especially if he had walked all the way here. The silence that had fallen on the house was suffocating as James prepared a small plate of sliced bread and cheese. He slid the plate in front of the man before returning a few minutes later with two cups of tea. He set one beside Silver’s plate before sitting down with his own. The man was already digging into the meal as if he had recently spent another few weeks in the Doldrums.

Silver had just finished the last bite of cheese, licking a crumb of bread from his thumb, when Flint finally voiced the question that had been nagging at the edge of his mind. “What are you doing here?”

Blue eyes peered up at him. They were wide and unguarded, almost as if he had forgotten he was there. “It’s been four years.”

“I know.”

“I figured that was long enough to warrant a reunion,” Silver stated incredulously. He sat back in his chair as those blue eyes moved over him. Calm and calculating. Then, more softly, “I missed you.” There was something in his tone with those last three words that wasn’t there before. Regret, something he himself knew quite well, as well as a trace of something else. Guilt, shame?

“It’s been four years,” James repeated. This time he couldn’t help the anger that hardened his words.

Silver huffed. “Well I do apologize, I’ve been rather busy. Some tyrannical fuck left me with quite the mess to clean up.” Despite his words his tone was light and there was humor flashing in his eyes. “Was actually rather content when I heard the bastard died a little over two years ago.”

James arched a brow. “Captain Flint’s dead?” he asked. Once again Silver was causing him to exercise his poor judgement; this time in playing along with his charade.

The man hummed. “Drank himself to death in Havannah,” he explained before taking an experimental sip of his tea. “So wrought he was with grief, he sought the answer to his sorrows at the bottom of the bottle. Or did he finally just grow tired of living and drown himself in the ocean..? Honestly, I can’t remember what the rumor was. Not that I had a hand in it, of course.”

Despite himself, James found a slight smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. “You killed Captain Flint?”

Silver offered a meager shrug, the side of his thumb tracing over the lip of the teacup. “I told you I would be your end,” he reminded him. With a sigh he readjusted himself in the chair. “Didn’t have much of a choice, really. Too many people were searching for you.”


“Pirates, actually.”


“Mmh. Even though reclaiming Nassau worked to all of our benefit, he remained rather cross with you.”

“And the chest?”

“Still where we buried it, as far as I’m aware.”

James reached up to stroke the underside of his chin with his knuckles. This was a lot of information to process. The cache was still safe and 'Captain Flint’ was dead. And with that news he was finally free to stop looking over his shoulder once and for all. But the true purpose of Silver’s visit was still a mystery to him. Why now? There had to be a reason. The gentle timbre of Silver’s voice coaxed him from his thoughts with as much ease as it had in the past.

“I still have it, you know.”

Green eyes flicked upward and he arched a brow. “Beg pardon?”

Without saying more Silver leaned back to better reach into the folds of his coat. Moments later he withdrew a small, red leather-bound book and gently set it on the table. Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations. The book he had long held dear since Thomas was torn from him, and then Miranda following in his footsteps. The book he had entrusted to Silver, not just as an expression of his feelings for him, but for safekeeping. Without delay his eyes were drawn to the small yet prominent hole that tore through the cover. It went in diagonally near the corner and had gone through most of the pages.

“The fuck did you do to it?” James demanded. Quickly he plucked it up from the tabletop to more closely inspect it. Relief washed through him as he lifted the cover to see that the damage had just nearly avoided Thomas’ elegant handwriting. It had also managed to miss his own inscription to Silver on the back cover. Other than that, the volume seemed to be in the perfect condition he had left it in. Still, his gaze lifted upwards in order to seek an explanation.

Silver raised his hands slightly to feign surrender. “Truly, it wasn’t my fault. It was in my breast pocket when someone happened to take a shot at me.”

The man’s lips pursed. Sure enough, the hole was small enough to have been from a bullet. He tried to suffocate the thought that Silver had kept this book on his person, to pretend it wasn’t significant in the least. So instead he scoffed and set it back down. “Christ. If you can’t even take care of a book, I shudder to think what’s become of the Walrus.”

When the pirate didn’t answer James glanced up to see an expression he had come to know quite well. Silver was looking off to the side, mouth slightly open as he found himself in that rare moment where he was lost for words. In the past this expression was always swiftly accompanied by him sharing some unfortunate news.

“What did you do to my ship?” James’s voice had all but risen to a shout. Silver’s mouth closed, and when it inevitably opened again he cut him off before he could get a word out. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” James could feel the stabbing pain in his forehead and he reached up to massage his temples.

“It’s still afloat,” Silver reassured him. Or at least tried to, as his words provided very little comfort.

James could only manage a snort of derision. After moment he sighed and looked out the back window. The sky was continuing to darken but it appeared as though it might be a few hours before it began to rain. “There’s a tub out on the back porch. Draw up some water and take a bath, before anything else. You fucking reek.” Not just of sweat, but of gunpowder and blood. A scent he had never particularly cared for, but especially not now that the life of piracy was behind him.

Despite the harsh words Silver merely smirked. “Aye, Captain,” he agreed.

James leaned against the table as he listened to the step-thunk-step of his retreat. Despite his better judgement he turned his head just slightly to catch sight of his retreating form. Something was different about the way he was walking. Despite the presence of his crutch, he appeared to be walking with more ease on the iron leg than ever before. The stride was longer, more confident, and steady. Perhaps the amputation was no longer paining him. The prosthetic he was now in possession of was new, of that there was no doubt, but there was something else… Something different that he just couldn’t quite put his finger on. The thoughts were pushed from his mind with a sigh as he began to clear the table while Silver bumbled around out back. The man had polished off his tea with the same fervency as he had done his food, and while his own tea had long grown cold he drank it anyway. Orange with a hint of honey.

He was returning the newly washed dishes to their place when a thought occurred to him. Linens. Silver would need something to dry off on and some fresh clothes. He already had a door to fix, he didn’t want puddles of water all over his floor too. James grabbed the white cotton shirt he had bought not even an hour ago before trudging into his room for a pair of trousers, some cloths, and soap. He also made sure to grab his crutch before heading out the door.

Silver had seemingly filled up the tub with little to no trouble and was now sinking beneath the water with a contented sigh. When he heard his approach he smirked up at him. “You’re too kind, Captain, truly,” he said upon seeing his offering.

James leaned the crutch against the tub before tossing the cloth at that smirking face. “Don’t call me that.”

“As you wish, James.”

He was fairly certain that this migraine wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. When the man leaned forward, though, his thoughts stalled. Scars marred the skin of his chest and arms. Many must have been new as James didn’t recognize them. Didn’t remember tracing over them with light touches as he slept. But it wasn’t just scars from bullets and swords that caught his attention, but the tattoos that stretched over his muscles. All a rich black, though the designs of some were much clearer than others. One in particular that sparked his interest laid on his left bicep. It was a waxing moon. The crescent that was shrouded in shadow matched his own celestial design inked into his right arm. It was almost exactly the same size, too.

When James’ noticed the man’s gaze there was a coy playfulness in his eyes. “You did that on purpose,” he accused.

“I did,” Silver agreed easily. He leaned forward to take the small bare of soap he still held in his fist, fingers moving unnecessarily over the inside of his wrist as he did so. “Is it really so terrible that I wished to keep a part of you close?”

James didn’t answer. He was too thrown by the warmth that familiar touch sent racing through him. From the top of his head to his feet before striking at his heart. He realized then just how much he had missed that touch. Missed him.

“Clean up.” The words came out with a much harder edge than intended, and Silver didn’t bother trying to mask the dejected look that quickly darkened his expression. Before he could say another word he retreated back inside. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears and he could still feel the heat that trailed up from where he had touched his wrist. So much time had passed and yet this man could still make his heart lurch into his throat. It was maddening. Yet he couldn’t allow himself to do this. Whatever reason truly drove Silver here, he wasn’t planning to stay. It wasn’t possible. He wouldn’t allow himself to get sucked back in only for the other man to walk out on him. No matter how much he wanted to. If only for a moment.

When Silver eventually returned to the kitchen he was dressed in the fresh clothes James had given him. He realized then that this was perhaps the first time he had ever seen him dressed in plain white. It softened the man’s otherwise hard appearance. He would even dare to say it made him look angelic, almost like an innocent. The trousers were a bit big on him, and the pant leg that covered his amputated leg dragged across the floor. The iron boot, as well as his dirtied clothing, were tucked underneath his arm as he made his way back towards the table. Even on the crutches he now moved with a practiced grace. No longer were the prosthetic or wooden crutch treated as a clumsy addition, but rather a natural extension of his body. Damp hair cascaded down his shoulders in thick ringlets as he sat down with a noticeable “huff”. He dropped the clothing to the floor before beginning to roll up the pant leg to slip the boot back in place.

When the stump was uncovered James realized just what it was that had struck him as different earlier. It wasn’t just the new design of the iron boot, it wasn’t just his practiced, more effortless gait. His injured leg was actually shorter. “What happened to your leg?”

Silver chuckled. “Well, we were at port in Charlestown–”

“You know what I mean,” James interjected with a scowl.

Silver sighed heavily and feigned a shrug of indifference. “Howell ended up having to take more of it.”

“How long?”

He thought for a few moments before answering. “About two months after we reclaimed the island.” He didn’t meet his gaze.

“After I turned my back on you,” James corrected him. Even he could hear the guilt that thickened his tone. He was aware of how suddenly he had opened up to Silver about his plans. How quickly he had unloaded upon him the stresses and responsibility of captaincy. How could he have not truly considered how that would impact him? That some part of him would slip under the pressure. He had failed him yet again, and this time he wasn’t even there to pick up the pieces. He swallowed against the lump in his throat. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to the leg.

Silver glanced up in curiosity at the question. After a moment of apparent unease he gave a slight nod of his head. James moved toward him and sank down to his knees. He pushed up the fabric the rest of the way before lifting the stump and turning it slightly in his hands. It was unmistakable now. At least an inch of it was now gone. While the point of amputation still reached below his knee joint, there was hardly any of it left. The only positive was that now it had actually… healed. The suture was much more even as Howell had not been racing against time. The skin was lightly calloused from the boot, just as the sole of one’s foot would be, but appeared completely healthy. No inflammation or swelling, only scarring. James hadn’t realized how he was stroking the skin, moving up his thigh only to come back down towards his knee with gentle caresses, until he felt fingers tangle into his hair. The touch startled him and he peered up to see those crystal blue eyes gazing down at him.

“Why didn’t you ask me to come with you?” Silver asked softly. The look on his face was pleading, his eyes moving over his face as he sought an answer. His mouth was down-turned in a slight frown.

James swallowed lightly. “I was afraid that if I convinced you you to follow, you would only come to resent me,” he eventually confessed. This was the first time he had admitted this truth aloud. It sounded foreign even to his ears.

“More than I did after you left?” Silver questioned. Still those fingers threaded through his hair, idly twirling the copper locks that weren’t pulled back in his usual queue. “More than I still do, even now?”

“I’m sorry,” James murmured. Though his voice was barely above a whisper it as full of regret.

After a few moments those fingers tightened in his hair and his chin was tilted upwards. Silver’s lips were soft as they melded against his own, just as they had always been. Soft and warm like rays of sunshine and stronger than the ocean’s currents. James found himself sinking into it almost immediately. He had not the energy nor the desire to even attempt to resist that burning touch. His own hands reached upwards to tangle his fingers in those damp locks, pulling him ever closer. A tongue traced over his bottom lip and that mouth opened willingly, urging him to delve deeper. Their tongues intertwined, pressing against one another as they fought for dominance in between gentle nips of teeth.

Eventually when they broke away they were both a bit breathless. James gazed longingly up at his last quartermaster. He took in the cheeks that had flushed dark with heat, the blue eyes that had given way to a hungry, all-consuming black. He was just as beautiful as he had always been. The man’s hands moved from his hair to instead cradle his cheek. When his thumb traced along his jawline those blue eyes closed and Silver almost nuzzled into the touch. “I’m sorry,” James repeated. This time Silver’s gaze met his own, and without even needing to say a word he could tell that he had already been forgiven long ago. He leaned forward on his knees to place another kiss against the corner of his mouth.

“I know.”

The two spent the rest of the day lost in conversation. They talked about everything. What had become of Nassau after Flint’s departure, the disaster that was the first time Silver attempted to take a prize as captain. How Billy had become obsessed with recovering the stash of pearls. James told him about his life when he first came here. How he could never truly turn his back on the sea, and spent the last of his coin purchasing this small place from an old man. How he grew the farm up around him with his own two hands. They lost themselves in discussion of what the English crown had been up to as of late. James could only smirk as the fire that burned brightly within the man reminded him of himself. Soon the sun had sunk low beneath the horizon and they chose to split a bottle of rum. And soon their discussions melded into matters far less serious. The latest books they had read, jokes Silver had heard, and reminiscing over their various adventures together. By the time the bottle was empty the candles had burned low, sending wax spilling over onto the table.

When James stood to collect the empty bottle and glasses, Silver peered up at him almost anxiously. When it became apparent that he wouldn’t speak first James took the initiative. “Are you staying the night?” the asked casually. He glanced over his shoulder to see the man thumbing nervously over the leather of Meditations’ cover.

“Will you have me?”

James nodded. “Always..”

That was all the answer Silver seemed to need. With a brief smile he grabbed his crutch and made his way down the hall with an ease he hadn’t known before. James followed in his footsteps, his bare feet padding softly against the wood floor. The moment they were within the bedroom they came together once more. This time when they kissed they did so slowly and with purpose. James cradled the base of the man’s neck, tilting his head upward slightly to better deepen their kiss. The man had grown in many ways, but he was still a few inches shorter than he. Fingers moved almost hurriedly as they shed each other of their clothes. After that it was as if nothing had changed. This was simple, this came naturally. The way their hands slid over one another, exploring each others bodies with gentle touches in a way that conveyed the thoughts they couldn’t speak. He traced over the scars that had come to mare Silver’s flesh in recent years, leaning down to trail his lips over each one, his hands settling on those slender hips to hold him close. He quickly found himself overcome with that old, primal desire to explore, to taste, to touch.

When James eventually found himself on his knees Silver’s fingers had threaded through his hair once more. How he had missed this. How he had missed him. The way those fingers clutched his hair, the way he gasped out above him as that length pillowed on his tongue. How he uttered his name with such reverence as he came down his throat and managed to alight his senses all at once. The rest of the night was a blissful blur. Before he knew it Silver was spread out beneath him, his chest warm against his own and those trailing fingers sending lines of fire coursing through him. They moved against each other just as they had so many years ago, their lips and hands instinctively knowing where to travel to elicit a soft moan, a gentle gasp. It was if he had never left. They kissed, stroked, groped, and fucked, the room filled with soft moans and panted breaths. They were finally alone with only each other and so they would not be silent. Truthfully, even if they were in the middle of the town square he doubted either of them could keep themselves at bay. There were too many emotions. Too much hurt and want, too much guilt and frustration from spending so many years apart.

When they had finally grown tired at last the room smelled of sex and sweat. Their skin gleamed in the low lighting from the candle on the nightstand. The flickering flame only just illuminated the way their bodies had been flushed with heat and satisfaction. James’ hair had come loose from its queue and Silver’s fingers combed through it. James gathered the man into his arms before brushing a dark ringlet behind his ear. Those blue eyes had already fallen closed. Even this, holding Silver’s naked body against his own, felt natural. He would never tire of this feeling. He was worried he would never feel it again. And now that he had… He was weary to relinquish his hold on it. It was as if he feared the moment he left his embrace Silver would disappear into thin air. James shook these thoughts from his mind with surprising ease as he buried his nose in that mess of black curls. He wouldn’t allow himself to sully this moment with pointless worry. Instead he would focus on the feeling of Silver lying against him and commit it to memory. The softness of his skin, the warmth that spread through him. And as James eventually drifted into his own slumber, he knew this was be the first time he had slept so soundly since his exile from England.

anonymous asked:

ALLY you are my biggest fashion inspiration!! i live in england so its autumn now, what are your staple clothes for autumn winter?? do you have any pictures of your outfits from these times? and who are your fashion inspirations? I'm doing some online shopping and could really use your help! thank you, have a beautiful day xxxxx

Hey anon! Thank you, that’s super flattering :) I love fashion-related distractions, so I’ll put together a nice little post for you if I can. England is a lot cooler than Melbourne in Autumn, but I’ll see if I can give you some ideas anyway.

WARNING - Super long post ahead :) Photos at the bottom x

To me, Autumn is all about layers. It’s not Summer anymore, but it’s not quite brought the icy chill of Winter just yet; thus, it becomes a fusion of the two. I’d take a Spring/Summer weight dress, but add a tight plain tee underneath. Wear an A-line skirt, but add a turtleneck jumper and over-the-knee socks. Chuck on some long overalls, but wear some knitwear underneath, or a faux leather motorcycle jacket on top. I really love sock detailing, so lots of knee and thigh high socks, plain stockings, grey slouchy tube socks, and pretty ankle socks with floral designs or ruffles that dress up an outfit with some booties, mary janes, oxfords, loafers, even clogs or sandals. Rain boots are also perfect, especially paired with a nice coat or cape. Layer with warm cardigans, button down shirts and flannels, even flared pants if you can rock it.

I love adding accessories like hats, super thick scarves, fingerless gloves, head wraps, sunglasses, capes, shawls, cute backpacks, 

Materials like denim, velvet and (faux) suede are nice, colours like mustard yellow, maroon/burgundy, olive green, anything tartan, and marbled grey.

My favourite ‘look’ is one I fell in love with in 2010, a campaign called ‘Twelve’ by the New Zealand label Twenty Seven Names. Check it out:

This outfit below is pretty much my dream autumn/winter look

I don’t post my own clothes very often as I don’t often buy new things, but you can find some of my personal ‘outfit’ posts here:

Here are some Lookbook accounts that you should check out too:

I can’t afford anything by these brand, but maybe you can or at least draw some inspiration if you like the vibe:

Have a look at @simply-kenna​‘s YouTube channel and Instagram page, she radiates Autumnal vibes. Zoella has great Autumn style too.

My biggest style inspiration is Vanessa Hudgens, and you can follow a blog that chronicles her fashion taste here:

And finally, here are some Autumn looks that I would love to rock :)

(These images were found from just digging around online, but most are from Free People, Urban Outfitters or style blogs. If you want to find a certain item in one of the outfits, just reverse google search the photo)


Okay and now finally some hair and makeup inspiration :)

I hope that helps! :)

anonymous asked:

Hayyyy, it's another Voltron blog! Let's see if we can't get you some more questions, hm? Head canons for the Voltron crew and their holiday enthusiastic S/O on halloween?

Another ask and its perfect for the first of October!!



  • its HALLOWEEN!!! And you two quickly fall into a duo dynamic
  • You try to make things fun, he tries to make sure you don’t get killed
  • “Hey shiro I found this weird orange glob thing, WE CAN DRAW A FACE ON IT AND PRETEND ITA A JACK O LANTERN!!” “…s/o i dont thing you should put fire in tha-” *thing explodes and there is orange blob guts everywhere*
  • Besides that, he generally enjoy you being so pump for Halloween (tho he himself hasn’t celebrated it for YEARS)
  • Of course, you all are in the middle of space. There is no candy, no trick-or-treaters, no nearest Walmart to get decorations, no scary movies and no extra fabric for costumes
  • So your first space Halloween was a bit of a dud
  • Until you get to your room at least….
  • Papier-mâché pumpkins EVERYWHERE
  • Where did guy find spooky candles in space!?
  • He pretty much decked out your room
  • He also attempted to freeze space goo to make it look like candy but that didn’t go well (it’s glued to his hands now)
  • He’ll even sing ‘this is Halloween’ for you but he forgot all the words so you two made up your own Halloween song


  • there is no treats in space, do you know what that leaves?
  • You guys stole shiro’s eyeliner and drew ‘scary’ third eyes and fangs over your lips
  • Ooooooh so spooky
  • You and him are dubbed the trick goblins
  • Keith was the first victim of your guys shenanigans
  • Lance asked hunk to temporarily rewire the battle simulator robots into dance bots that will force Keith to dance with them
  • Lance almost peed himself laughing when Keith awkwardly attempt the Naenae thinking it was some sort of battle move
  • Then you guys tried to prank pidge…
  • You can use your imagination but it ended up with pidge’s head in a bucket of goo and her vow for vengeance
  • …… you guys stayed together that night… in allura’s room
  • The fear of pidge’s revenge kept both of you up.
  • Pretty much stayed under a blanket together, holding hands and acting as each other’s Will official nary until Halloween was over but hey, at least you two were together


  • Keith doesn’t get Halloween
  • Why is it so exciting for you?
  • You explain to him that you guys are setting up a Halloween party
  • He doesn’t do much but smiles as you run back and forth looking all excited and cute
  • You pretty much set up a make-shift Halloween carnival in the ballroom and all of those who reside on the planet who wants to join in this 'Halloween’ festivities
  • He’s really good at 'dunk-the-lance’. The game were you aim at a target and if you hit it the seat under lance goes and he falls in water (doesn’t know how you got him to do it)
  • Wins all the prizes
  • Is even MORE excited for Halloween for you now
  • You created a monster. He’s already planning for next year


  • but is kinda worried that’ll be disappointed this year since you guys are in space and Halloween doesn’t exist here
  • Smiles when you don’t seem discouraged at all and that’s motivates him to help you
  • Hunk will try to make food worthy of a Halloween party (but you can only do so much with alien food)
  • If you can somehow obtain costumes, HE WILL AGREE TO DRESS UP WITH YOU
  • Will teach the alien children who lives near the palace how to trick or treat while you tell the adult aliens what’s in store for them
  • Kinda back fired when the kids demanded treats from YOU GUYS
  • Hunk has to carry you as he rans from spooky children with their bags of tricks
  • On the bright side, the kids are also chasing the other paladins so you guys can sneak away fairly easily 


  • she cares and is more excited than you but apparently loves to deny it
  • Will tag along in your adventures to spook-I-fy the palace
  • you guys really pulled out all the stops
  • Main adjective: scare Keith
  • Pidge is pissed and you’re laughing
  • Hours later, you guys are on the couch telling each other scary stories with fake blood and guts under your clothes because there is no horror movies in space
  • You guys stained the couch tho
  • Space dad is displeased


  • “What is a 'Halloween’?”
  • You have to explain it to her because they don’t have this holiday on Altea
  • Really seems to like the dressing up part
  • She stole lance'a paladin arm shifted her body size and color and hair to look similar like lance but her facial traits are still there and so are her pretty ears
  • “I must say, I make rather attractive you.”
  • Lance is annoyed XD
  • “So I go to a strangers house and demand treats and it’s not impolite?”
  • You have a hard time explaining that trick o treating is meant for kids
  • Orders a costume ball to be issued on Halloween for years to come
  • Tries to add the 'mistletoe’ tradition to Halloween too
  • get ready for princess kisses


  • Doesn’t under stand you crave faces on food and put a candle in it
  • Just like allura, he really seems into the dressing up part
  • Children in costume frighten him them however
  • “TAKE IT, TAKE IT ALL JUST SPARE ME!” *throws food at their bags*
  • Feels like this halloween benefits tiny muggers the most

blackawaii  asked:

the clothes you put your arcana mc in are so beautiful! so dazzling!! so refined! where do you find inspiration when drawing clothes/outfits?

Thank you!

I don’t have a specific source I pull from. Usually it’s done from imagination, but if I really need a more solid ref for something I’ll look things up on here or google or pinterest [I have a couple of private boards for specific types of clothes] or go through the folders I have on my computer. I spend… a lot of time gathering references and inspiration, hahah.

To begin researching I usually figure out what setting the character is from and, if designing a FC, what the source material pulled insp from, then consider what the character themselves would wear, when/why they’re wearing it etc. Mix and match realistic period clothing with classic fantasy staples and whatever else I can think of at 3 am.

This probably wasn’t a very helpful answer, sorry. I do have a fashion insp blog here tho, got a little bit of everything.

Post TPM


Obi-Wan’s a mess when they get back to Coruscant, but he hides it well. Or thinks he does. He makes it through the Council’s debriefing and getting Anakin set up with some customized courses to help him catch up with the other Initiates and getting their quarters kitted out. He retrieves clothing, bedding and basic staples from the quartermaster, helps Anakin set up his room and then turns to cleaning the dust from the corners of their long unused quarters, at once thankful they didn’t send him back to the rooms he’d shared with Qui-Gon and also missing them like a limb.

He doesn’t slow down, even when Master Windu announces himself at the door, even when Master Windu lets himself inside, watching Obi-Wan move from corner to corner, kitchen to common room to ‘fresher and back again, with an inscrutable look on his face.

During Obi-Wan’s third circuit, after he’s sure he’s just about got everything dusted and straightened, he remembers he needs to check in with the quartermaster once more for Anakin’s boots, which were supposed to be delivered before his classes started and as he turns for the door, he stumbles to a halt. Mace Windu stands in his path, face still, but eyes softer than Obi-Wan thinks he’s ever seen. He puts his hands on Obi-Wan’s shoulders, fingers warm and gripping him tight.

“I miss him too,” Mace says and that’s all it takes for the dam to break. There’s a terrible cry of pain and it’s a moment before Obi-Wan realizes it’s coming from him, that it might just be the sound of his heart rending in two. He’s only vaguely aware of being half carried to the sofa, of the hands that lift him and turn him on the couch, of the rough fabric of a robe against his face, the warm palms curving against his skull, the flustered presence on the edge of his periphery, the unintelligible question being asked and answered and then another hand, smaller but just as warm, resting against his temple, stroking the fine hairs there.

“He’ll be okay,” Obi-Wan hears Mace say and he wonders if the Jedi Master has always been that good at lying. 


I don’t know. I have a little scenes and snippets overflowing my brain. This one started out as Mace petting Obi-Wan’s hair, but I had to figure out how they got to that point….

anonymous asked:

sorry if uve answered this before but what r some clothes u would consider staple items to mix & match to make lots of outfits with a few items? (im kinda a poor student rn so i cant afford many new clothes often lol)

  • black and white items. whether it be bottoms or tops, if you can’t decide between the two, just get both bc you will definitely get a lot of wear out of them.
  • solid colors that are subdued rather than flamboyant (desaturated tones like pastels vs. neon colors).
  • simple and timeless patterns like stripes!!!
  • a good flannel or any sort of plaid button-up.
  • dark wash and light wash denim. same rule of thumb as the b&w items imo.
  • a nice light to medium wash denim jacket.
  • lots and lots and lots of cute socks as accent points in your outfit!!! even with a complete monochrome look, cute socks make everything fun and playful ^_^

Massive props to both @rachelshade & Lady Lecter for creating this tag! I had a load of fun filming this video & thinking about my answers! If you want to film this tag, as well, here are the questions! Also, don’t forget to check out Rachel’s video for this tag here:

1) How long have you been identifying as Goth?
2) What was your first encounter with the Goth subculture?
3) How many items of crushed velvet clothing do you own?
4) What’s your favorite/least favorite Goth clothing staple?
5) What widely accepted Goth band can you not stand?
6) In the Goth subculture, there’s a lot of death imagery. What meaning does this hold for you specifically, if any?
7) What’s your favorite piece of Goth literature & can you name your 3 favorite characters from Goth literature?
8) Who’re your 3 favorite Goth bands/artists?
9) What’re your 3 all-time favorite songs to dance to in the Goth club?
10) What’s the funniest encounter you’ve ever had with someone in response to your Goth appearance?

ace27blr  asked:

Hi fellow trans goth! Any wardrobe staples you can recommend?

Dark coloured binders and clothes are a staple if you’ve not had the opportunity to get top surgery yet, also knowing how to make your makeup look both edgy and interesting.

anonymous asked:

One time in elementary school, for some reason I decided I needed to marry my friend and a bunch of other kids got excited about it too, and we made a dress and veil for me out of white construction paper, and a jacket and top hat for my friend out of black paper, and the "clothes" were attached with staples, glue and tape. We made programs for the guests, and had a friend "marry" us with a Magic Treehouse book. Then we danced to Backstreet Boys. I don't know where the supervision was. (1/2)

But I love the idea of Matt, Foggy and Elektra doing that in some combination. Who’s getting married? (probably not Foggy and Elektra) Who’s the friend to marry them? Who put together the outfits? Where were the adults in all this? We just don’t know. (2/2)

It’s Marci who decides they need to have a wedding, of course, after she’s flower girl at her aunt’s. She even has a poofy white dress from the event that she insists on showing off pictures of to all her classmates, at length. Her mother will let her wear it to school, but only for the day of the wedding itself, because it is for a special occasion.

She spends a week loudly debating the choice of groom, even though everyone knows who it’s going to be in the end. It does not become the heated competition she hopes, despite a lot of sidling up to the various boys in the class and batting her eyelashes.

“Don’t call me Lukey,” Luke says firmly, and keeps working on the world’s longest construction paper chain (probably) with Colleen.

“I’m never getting married,” Frankie scoffs. “I’m gonna have a dog and live in a truck and I’m not sharing.”

“Okay,” says Danny from where he’s sitting on top of a very tall bookcase and eating a crayon.

…Maybe not Danny, then.

“I don’t think we’re old enough,” says Malcolm nervously, which is a shame, because he’s the nicest kid in the class and clearly the best choice.

“Not if I haveta dress up,” says Brett, and goes back to playing Cops and Other Cops with Misty (neither one will agree to be the robber).

Marci doesn’t even ask Matt, who she hates, for reasons no one can understand. Even Frankie kinda likes Matt.

In the end she picks Foggy, like everyone knew she would. Foggy agrees, then privately reassures Matt that there’s no reason they can’t get married too, when they get big and have a place to put the swirly slide they have already agreed will go in their shared apartment.

Keep reading