full length skirts

“Nothing bold or magnificent is built from fear.” –Amazon’s The Collection

Gone was the hard, boxy and masculine look (including liberating trousers) that came with wartime fabric rationing. “Hideous and repellent” is how Dior described that look. Instead he made sculpted dresses of as much as 25 yards of the finest luxury fabrics: ultrafeminine, but a burden to wear. Corsets shrank waists by up to two inches; crinolines and padding made full, calf-length skirts even more voluminous. Busts were lifted and breasts made into pointed cones. High heels and wide-brimmed or tilted tri-cornered hats completed the look. Comfort was not the point: not then, and not now, on the small screen. [x]

Sometimes, I feel alone even when I am surrounded by people. It is hard to put this feeling into words, but it is there and it is burning a hole in my chest, melting onto the hardwood floor like candle wax. You might reach out to touch me and your hand will go right through my skin. I like the way that the grass in the backyard feels against my toes; the way that the earth is always there, even when I’m not. And I’m in a full length skirt the color of peaches and my heart TREMBLES like a rabbit. And the earth whispers that I’m alive, alive, alive
—  Zoë Lianne, “Girl as ghost in a peach skirt”
You’re Now Mine (Part 5)

Title: You’re Now Mine (Part 5)
Summary:  I’ve decided to continue the drabble request into a three part series considering the requests to write more of it!

“Fulfilling a request for @lets-personofinterestontumbir! – “Could you do a drabble for the Persephone AU I don’t know If you’ve seen once upon a time but the episode 1x07 reminded me a lot of this story when the evil queen ripped out the huntsmen’s heart if you could do something like that it would be awesome. Thank you.” “
Words: 1,714
Warnings: DARK AF, Emotional/Mental abuse

Masterpost || Persephone || Part 4 || Part 6

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After a LOT of thinking, I am going to be selling my Maria Reynolds cosplay. It has fully lined sleeves, a plastic boned bodice lined with fleece, and a full length circle skirt. It is made of polyester taffeta and is completely hemmed, zipping up in the back for both the bodice and skirt.

My measurements are: BUST: 37 WAIST: 33 HIPS: 40, and the skirt will fit anything smaller but NOT anything bigger. The bodice will fit maybe an inch or two bigger.

I am selling it for $150, which considering I put over 30 hours of work into it plus material costs, is much cheaper than it would normally be. It is discounted because frankly, I need the closet space and would like it to go to a good home.

Please PM or email me at jadeflower99@gmail.com if you would like to purchase it. I take PAYPAL ONLY.

No matter how pregnant she got, she didn’t like to buy new clothes. She was actually wearing the get up that you first saw her in all those months ago: a tight, full length skirt coupled with an equally tight top. It was actually amazing that she could even squeeze that much belly into her shirt. Even so, she got stares from people as she walked down the street, her belly normally hanging out for all to see.

The Nanny Ch. 12

Fandom: BIGBANG/ Choi Seung Hyun

Synopsis: First Date

Warnings: Fluff Ahoy!

Author’s Note: Bonus Chapter time!!! I have 40 41 followers! *waves* Hello, beautiful people. Thanks for being here. This chapter is chock full of fluffy cuteness. Seriously, every time I read the middle bit, I melt.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This story contains fictional representations of real people. None of the events are true. This is from an American standpoint, so some of the situations may not happen the same way they might in Korea. I make no money from the writing of this fictional work.

Chapter Masterlist


After Seung Hyun had come home for that week at the end of June, it was going to be the first of September before you would see him again. This time he would be home for three whole weeks and you found yourself ridiculously excited about it. The two of you had been exchanging texts and pictures like crazy & even though it helped, you still missed having him around.

A couple days before he was scheduled to arrive, you were laying in bed reading when your phone unexpectedly began to ring. You picked it up from the nightstand and were surprised to see that it was Seung Hyun.

“Hello?” you answered, sounding a bit concerned because he had never called while he had been gone before.

“_________ -ah!” Seung Hyun said excitedly. “You answered!”

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Stripping and Gawking

Alright, here is the “infamous” stripper story.  The original ask is what was so controversial, so I am adding my own summary:

What happens when the reader, with her baggy clothes and her plain looks, goes undercover as a stripper to catch an unsub with Spencer at the helm of protection?

(Part 2  Part 3)


“Alright, so who wants to go undercover?”

As Morgan wiggles his eyebrows at J.J. and Prentiss, you were a little offended that he didn’t do it with you.

Sure, you wore cardigans and big glasses.  Sure, you enjoyed your over-sized cable sweaters to form-fitting dresses.  Sure, your wore tennis shoes and flats instead of high heels.

But that didn’t mean that you didn’t have sex appeal.

“Unfortunately, Morgan’s right,” Hotch sighs, eyeing you girls, “If we are going to figure out who is killing these women, we will need someone undercover.”

“Oh, no.  Not me.  I’ve got the stretch marks and loose skin from Henry to last me a lifetime,” J.J. says shaking her head.

“I mean, I’m not opposed to it,” Prentiss says.

“I bet you’re not,” Morgan winks.

“We would need one of the guys undercover to protect you.  You know, as a paying customer,” Hotch says, clearing his throat abit.

“I’d take that gig,” Rossi murmurs into your ear as he leans over.

“So no one thinks I’m capable of doing this?”

As everyone quiets down and turns slowly to you, your face flushes red as Morgan’s eyebrows slowly raise on his face.

“Didn’t know you wer interested, baby girl,” he says, chuckling lightly to himself.

“Well, you inquired both J.J. and Emily…b-but not me.  Why?” you ask sheepishly.

“For the same reason we wouldn’t send Spencer in as the customer,” Hotch pipes up.

“Wait, what?” Spencer says, shooting him a startling glance.

“Spencer looks out of place.  Morgan fits in better, especially since he isn’t afraid of the women in there.  Pulling this role off is partially being able to take care of yourself, and partially looking the part.  It’s nothing against you,” Hotch finishes, coming over and patting your shoulder.

“I’m not afraid of women,” Spencer speaks up incredulously.

“And I look just fine under these clothes,” you say, tears rising in your eyes as you look down, fingering the full length skirt covering your legs.

As everyone looks around at each other, you hear Rossi audibly sigh as he says, “I actually think, in this situation, Reid might work better.  He will be the last person someone thinks about defending anyone, especially with his awkwardness around women.”

“I am not awkward around women!” he throws his hands up.

“Yes, you are,” everyone says in unison.

“Y/L/N,” Rossi says, putting his hands on your shoulders as he turns you towards him, “This is serious.  This man, he has the blood of 12 women on his hands.”

“I know,” you urge, thankful that, for once, someone was defending your ability to take care of yourself.

“Alright,” Emily sighs, coming over and taking your hand, “Let’s go get you stripper’d up.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the team sets up in their mobile unit down the block, Emily scurries in, a bright smile on her face as she adjusts Spencer’s camera glasses, fluffing his hair and adjusting his tie to make him look more…innocent.

“Now, when Y/L/N comes out, try not to throw all of your money at her at once.  You have enough for her dancing as well as a few lap dances…from her, that is.  You know, to periodically talk intel.  Private room dances, of course,” she says, winking at Spencer as he furiously blushes.

“My god, I never thought I’d see the day where I’d be jealous of pretty boy,” Morgan says, a grin on his face as he pats Spencer’s back before sitting down in his chair for the evening.

“Alright, you’re ready to go,” Prentiss says, clutching the side of his arms before smiling broad at him.

“The two of you are going to do just fine,” she reassures him as he nods quickly, taking deep breaths.

And as Spencer exits the mobile unit and walks up the block, Garcia and Rossi shake their heads as Prentiss gets into her car and parks on the other side of the building, covering all exits as she watches Spencer gain access into the strip club.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the team sits in the van, their eyes heavy with sleep, Emily comes over their intercom with a giddy voice.

“She’s up, you guys!  Come on!”

Perking their heads up and they listen to your intro, the announcer says, “-let’s give it up for, Crystal Diiiiiiamoooooond!”

“Oh, god!” Morgan exclaims, “She is never livin’ this down.”

As a fogging machine covers your entrance, you suddenly emerge, your curly hair teased out around your face as the thigh-high shining leather heels you are donning part the way, allowing the rest of your body to follow as your black and red lacy panti-and-bra set barely covers your body as you stride out into the middle of the floor, your right hand reaching out for the pold as you spin around, your hair cascading out as you search for Reid.

“Oh…my…god…” Rossi mutters.

As Garcia and Hotch gawk at the screen, they see Spencer’s camera glasses click on, a full-on shot of your ass on the screen as you had dropped to al fours, crawling towards the men on the other side as they waved money at you.

“Reid, get her attention,” Hotch says.

“How!?” he harshly whispers.

“The money,” Emily sighs.

Watching his camera as he looks down at his wallet, he pulls out a few fives and some ones and starts waving them at you.

As you whirl around and catch his eyes, you smile devilishly as you gyrate your hips around, dropping it low and hitting your knees as you slowly slide towards him, your palms on the ground, taking the money from his hand with your teeth.

Watching Spencer gawk at you, his face red and his eyes wide, you give him a playful wink as you raise back up and tuck the money into your g-string, strutting back over to the pole as you wrap a leg around it, your arms climbing you to the top.

“Girls got moves!” Morgan claps, leaning back in his chair as he laughs.

As Rossi shakes his head and chuckles, they catch as you flip yourself upside down and hold your body out perpendicular to the bar, giving the team a full-on shot of your curvy hips and prominent abs before throwing yourself back around the pole and spiral down.

As the men begin to whistle and bang on the table, you continue making your rounds, collecting their money, and even allowing some to put it in your bra, before exiting stage with a wave and a kiss to the audience.

As the team hears Spencer’s breathing pick up, you peek out of the corner, seeing his profile as Spencer crosses his legs and shifts.

Staying in the shadows, you scan the strip club, looking for any signs of the unsub before sauntering your way around the floor, grabbing a drink tray and delivering some drinks to some rowdy bachelor party boys.

“Hello, boys,” you say in your sultry tone, seductively setting their drinks down as they eye your bosom hungrily.

“You little slut,” one of the boys murmur, grabbing your arm and pulling you down onto his lap.

Dropping the drink tray, the glass crashing to the floor, you hear a familiar voice behind you as it says, “I believe there is no touching in this club.”

“Go Reid!” Morgan roots from the van.

“‘Atta boy,” Emily praises from her car.

Feeling his hands grab your arms as he yanks you of of the strange man, Spencer adjusts his glasses before escorting you off to the side, the body guard coming to take care of the guy in question.

“Thanks a lot, handsome,” you say lowly, fingering his tie as you scoot closer to him, your eyes slowly gazing up to him, “Fancy a dance?”

Hearing Spencer swallow hard as he nods his head vigorously, you take his hand and sway your hips as you turn and head back into one of the private dance rooms.

Shutting the door behind you two, you lead him to a chair as Spencer holds up his hands.

“Y-y-you don’t have to do this,” he says.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t be nervous,” you say, slowly easing him into the chair as your eyes glance up to the left, signaling towards the cameras in the room.

Straddling his lap as you lean forward, his hands firmly placed on the chair arms, you slowly gyrate your hips back and forth, rubbing over his pelvis as you lean in to his ear.

“He’s here, Hotch,” you whisper lightly.

Pulling back as you press Spencer’s face into your chest, Garcia groans in the car.

“I would experiment with her in a heartbeat,” she murmurs, Morgan quickly shooting her a wide-eyed look.

“Ask her where he is, we haven’t spotted him,” Hotch says.

Watching as Spencer’s hand slowly dips in to his pocket, he flashes you an earbud as you dip into his face, your lips almost grazing his as you twist your body, your as now grinding into his slowly growing length as you lean your head back, your hair covering his hand while he slips it into your ear.

“Hey sexy, can you hear us?” Morgan asks.

“Mmhmmm,” you say lowly, giving Spencer once more grind before slipping back around and standing on your feet, rolling your hips from side to side as he watches mesmerized, his fingertips digging into the arms of the chair.

Watching him as his face blushes, his eyes roll over your body as he adjusts his glasses, slowly licking his lips.

“You like what you see, sweetheart?” you ask.

Watching him nod his head gave you a certain kind of confidence boost.

Slowly turning around, your fingertips come up to your bra clasp resting on your back, you pull them loose as Morgan and Rossi focus a little too hard on the television screen.

“No,” you hear Hotch’s voice ring sound.

Hearing Spencer audibly sigh in both relief and frustration, Garcia giggles at the defeated stance of the men in the vehicle as Hotch shakes his head lightly.

Shrugging to yourself, you turn back around, shimmying over to Spencer as you lean back into his glasses.

“Left corner from the stage, up in the balcony with the exotic looking women at his side,” you murmur before the lights flash on in the room.

Hearing the body guard knock on the door, he opens the door to find Spencer flustered and you smiling lightly, your hand out and palm upturned as he starts digging around for his wallet.

Placing the money in your hand, you roll it up and stick it in your bra, winking at him one more time before exiting the room, your hips swaying ever so lightly as he swallows once again, getting up and adjusting his pants before leaving the room behind you.

4

Rear Window, the 1954 classic film, starred the beguiling Grace Kelly as a fashion consultant who learns that her photographer boyfriend may have witnessed a murder. This stunning Grace Kelly portrait doll wears a beautiful black and white dress inspired by the one she wore in the film. The classic design is re-created with elegant chiffon, a V-neck bodice and full calf-length skirt embellished with a delicate branch pattern. Includes a “pearl” necklace and earrings, a white chiffon shawl, white “satin” gloves and black heels.

Drewal, Henry John. (2008) ”Mami Wata: Arts for Water Spirits in Africa and Its Diasporas”, Los Angeles, UCLA Fowler Museum of Cultural History. page 79 Another mask to be considered is from Freetown and was more likely carved by Temne artist Amara Kamara who at the time of my research had several sculptures of Mammy Wata in his home. The female Hindu facial mark on the forehead and between the eyes indicates that this character may represent Mammy Wata with dreadlocks, possibly a reference to Rasta boys of the Caribbean and by extension the mermaids Lasiren and/or Yemanja. A photograph of the mask worn with complete costume is revealing. The suit, assembled and worn by Amara Kamara, includes a blond wig, lace scarf, and cloth shawl together with a full-length skirt, long stockings, and gloves. Rather than a representation of Mammy Wata, this character may simply depict a Freetown woman, sought by young men through the spirit of Mammy Wata.

richardsprincessbob  asked:

#27 for Bellarke?

ao3, prompt list


“Why did I agree to this?” Bellamy grumbles, pulling a pair of plaid trousers off the rack and holding them up so Clarke can make an appropriately disgusted face.

“Because it’s your sister’s event,” she tells him for the twentieth time.

“It doesn’t start until ten, Clarke.”

She holds up a lacy shirt with big bell sleeves, wondering how visible the large stain will be in the dark. Thrift store shopping is always hit or miss.

Luckily, they’re shopping for zombie costumes, meaning questionable stains and rips aren’t out of the question.

They’re doing all this for a program Octavia is coordinating for Old Arktown, the minor tourist attraction that puts their town on the map. It’s nothing more than a small square of colonial-era shops, but school field trips and educational family vacations mostly keep it in business.

They hired Octavia to run their social media, but she ended up as more of a liaison between the historical society and the demographic they have the most trouble catering to: ‘young people.’ Hosting haunted tours for Halloween had been her idea, and Clarke signed up as much because it sounded fun as because her best friend’s sister was running it.

“Ten isn’t that late,” she tells Bellamy now, exasperated.

“It is when you have to wake up at six thirty.”

“Which you don’t because tomorrow is Saturday, and you don’t have school.” She spies black laces and flips through the rack, locating the corset. “I don’t get why you’re being so difficult about this. Nobody made you sign up. Clearly you thought it was going to be fun.”

“I thought I’d be manning the ticket booth or something, not having to dress up.”

“Did you not tell Octavia what you wanted to do? I told her I wanted to be a scarer and she said it was no problem.”

There’s a long enough pause she has to look up, and when she does the tips of his ears are red, his eyes so focused on the clothes in front of him that she isn’t sure he’s actually seeing anything.

“I told her to put me on whatever you were doing,” he mutters, pushing a hanger aggressively to the side. Clarke bites back an affectionate smile. He’s so predictable.

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