quarter length sleeves

Punk (Chap. 5)

Summary: You’re head over heels for your best friend Bucky and hate the nickname he gave you as it doesn’t exactly scream romance.

Word count: 2942

Warnings: Same as always

A/N:  FYI on Chap. 4 I had to go back and make a minor change bc of a continuity error.  Bucky’s hair is short (think TJ Hammond style) in this fic and i slipped up an put in a man-bun note (it’s my weakness). Sorry!  Now, back to the story….

Abandoning Wanda in your closet to hunt through the mass of new clothes you’d unceremoniously shoved in there earlier, you raced down the floor towards Nat’s room, ready to call the whole night off after that disaster of a dinner.  You rounded the corner and attempted to stop short but your socks had no grip and you crashed into a wall of muscle.  “Sorry, Sam,” you mumbled.  “You okay?” Sam laughed and steadied you back on your feet.

You heard Bucky snort from behind and winced. Great, he’d just seen you stuff your face full of Chow Mein and apple pie and now he caught you hurdling down the hallway like the giant boulder from Indiana Jones.  “He’s fine,” Bucky clapped him on the back.  “Not even you could crack this thick skull.”  

And with that he pulled Sam’s sweatshirt hood over his eyes and gave him a noogie before guffawing like a doofus and racing past you with Sam hot on his heels.

“Ay yo!  What the hell’s that mean?!” he hollered.  “And don’t touch my hair, man!”  Sam’s voice carried down the hallway as he chased your best friend.  A loud thud and muffled ‘ooof’ confirmed that he’d caught up to him and apparently rugby tackled him in the living room.

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anonymous asked:

i'm curious about what are your thoughts about Yuri in lace lingerie?

Oh. OH.

So it starts really casual. He’s perusing the racks in one of his favourite vintage shops and starts venturing outside of his regular corners, ends up in the section with ladies nightwear for some reason. There his eyes fall on this one piece: a black silky little robe with three-quarter length sleeves. Very simple, quite short. What causes him to instantly take it over to the cash register is the big embroidered tiger on the back in a Japanese style. 

Back at home he tries on that little robe, first over this baggy shirt he wears as PJs, but the material is just so soft. So he tries it on without the shirt, feels that silk gliding over his smooth skin and is surprised by how much he loves it. Wearing the little robe in his room becomes a regular thing. It makes him feel pretty, looking at himself in the mirror, black satin on creamy skin. It makes him feel so nice in fact, he starts pleasuring himself wearing that thing. He lets Otabek finger him for the first time wearing that thing. 

His collection starts to grow. He buys a dusty pink little robe, then a creamy one with little lace trimmings and then moves on to silky and lace camisoles with matching little shorts. He ultimately sets his heart on obtaining the holy grail: lace panties. He isn’t even sure he’s going to like them, but plucks up the courage one day to just go for it. He finds that he just feels so beautiful looking at himself in the mirror, lean bare torso, creamy frilly lace, legs for days. He feels a little bit too good in them perhaps and greedily pushes them aside, while stroking himself to completion and thinks with a blush it’s probably nice to surprise Otabek with them too. 

He does so one evening over Skype with a husky “I’ve got something to show you, Beka.” Needless to say, it went over very well. So his collection of nice lingerie grows exponentially after that, a lot of pieces also gifted to him by Otabek who just loves seeing his kitten looking all pretty and spoils him. Yuri even gets sets with matching garter belts and stockings which he wears for special occasions.

So, my opinion on Yuri in lace lingerie? A+++ content.  

The Best Night Ever (and Other Cliched Titles)

So @vodka-aunt-coran wrote this post and I had to write it (I changed it just a little, I hope that’s okay)

Not really any shipping, but if you want to read it that way you could. Under a cut for length. 

“Who decided that holding a prom at the Garrison was a good idea?” Keith wondered, nodding to the flyer on the wall behind their table. “Like…a bunch of military teenagers trying to dance? Who came up with that?”

“And where did we get the funding?” Hunk demanded. “They can’t even give us air conditioning half the year, but they can somehow manage to afford one of the fanciest events that most schools ever have?”

Lance snorted, poking at what might have been Jell-O and watching it jiggle under his spoon. “Bet they won’t even get a DJ. It’ll just be Iverson in shades.”

Keith and Hunk snorted and resumed their eating, leaving Lance to glance over at Pidge, who was being suspiciously quiet. “Pidge? What’s up? This seems like the exact thing you’d be making fun of with us.”

Pidge glanced up from her sandwich (at least, it resembled a sandwich). “Hmm? Oh. Sorry. Must have zoned out. Yeah, a prom does seem…really stupid.”

Hunk and Keith instantly looked up at her, both of them with silverware halfway to their mouths. Ever since returning from space, the group had been very in sync with one another, often being praised as the best functioning team at the academy, so they could tell when something was going on with each other. “What’s wrong?” Hunk asked.

Pidge hesitated, poking at her Jell-O with her finger and frowning. “I mean…it’s your guys’ last year here. I’d think you would want to go to something like this.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “No way. We’ve already been to space. I don’t think anything titled “Greatest Night Ever” could top that.”

Hunk and Keith murmured their agreement, still watching Pidge, and the girl managed a smile. “You’re probably not wrong,” she admitted with a chuckle.

There was a long pause, and then Pidge stood up so quickly that she knocked her elbow into Lance. “I forgot to finish the homework for Peterson’s class. I’ll see you guys later.”

She picked up her tray and bolted, saluting the guard on the way out and leaving the three sitting with their jaws dropped. “What was that about?” Keith wondered.

“We didn’t have homework for Peterson last night,” Hunk noted.

Lance, rubbing his arm with a frown, glanced to the prom flyer and then back to where Pidge had left. “Something’s wrong,” he murmured. “Hunk?”

“I’m on it.”


“Okay, so I read Pidge’s diary-”

“You have got to stop doing that.”

“-AND she really wants to go to this prom. Fancy dress, shoes, hair, and everything.”

Lance and Keith glanced at one another and then leaned forwards on Lance’s bed in matching poses, legs criss crossed and elbows on their knees. “She huh?” they chorused.

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My Queen (King George III x Reader)

Originally posted by coalhillacademy

Requested by: Anonymous who wanted some fluffy King George x Reader

Summary: It’s your wedding day and you are all ready to marry your fiancé, who just happens to be the King of England! When you start having self doubts, George is there to comfort you.

Warnings: None!

Time Period: Hamiltime

Words: 1530

A/N: So, I loved writing this because I love King George and Jonathan Groff. To the requester, I hope this is what you were looking for. Sorry if I got any detaisl wrong about royal weddings during the 1700s. Anyway, thank you so much for everyone’s support and please feel free to leave some requests!!

You woke up and rubbed the reminiscent of sleep from your eyes. As mind started to think about the day ahead, your eyes shot open and a huge smile stretched across your face.

Today was the day you had been looking forward to for months. Today was the day you would be marrying George, the love of your life.

Jumping out of bed, you looked around the room, and your eyes landed on a bouquet of flowers. Right next to them, sat a small card with George’s fimilar handwriting. It read:

My dearest, (y/n):

You are the light of my life, and I still cannot belive that you agreed to marry me. I am eagerly anticipating the moment your beautiful figure glides down the aisle so that we may become man and wife. Until then, just know that I am thinking about you.

Forever yours,

(King) George

You smiled down at the note and brought the flowers closer to your face so you could smell their fresh scent. After setting them down, you ate the tray of breakfast that had been laid out for you.

Next, two maids came into your room to help you prepare for the ceremony. They sat you down in front of a mirror and pulled your hair into an elegant updo, curling the front sections that framed your face. Afterwards, they applied some makeup.

Finally, they laced up your corset and helped you into your wedding dress. It was a white, ballgown styled dress with lace. It had three-quarters length sleeves and a train coming off the back. You were finally allowed to see the final product when your veil was put on.

You beamed at your reflection because you felt truly beautiful. Everything felt absolutely perfect. All that was left to do was wait until the ceremony started. You thanked the maids and they offered their compliments before they left.

“You look truly radiant, miss.” the shorter one told you.

The other maid nodded and smiled at you before saying, “You almost look like a queen.”

With that, the two bowed their heads and left you alone to your thoughts.

All of the sudden, you began to get this nervous feeling in your stomach. It made you feel like you needed to throw up, so you decided to pace back and forth to keep the feeling at bay. The feeling did not go away, and the thoughts running around in your mind were not making it any better.

Your mind was a jumbled mess, but the only thing you could make out was the phrase, “You almost look like a queen.”

What was that supposed to mean? Was she mocking you? Subtly saying that you were unfit to marry King George and rule by his side?

Unfortunately, these thoughts were not anything new. Ever since the beginning of your courtship with George, you had contemplated whether you really deserved to be with him or not. All of these thoughts took you back in your memoires when you and George first began your courtship.

It was not like you were born into royalty or any sort of nobility. Your father was a black smith and your mother was a seamstress. From a young age, you were given the reasonability of looking after your younger siblings and learning the duties of a housewife.

The life your parents lived was not one you could ever be satisfied with, and you had vowed that you would make something of your life. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you would end up marrying the King of England, but it happened.

You had been going into town to pick up some food, when you came across two men having a political debate. One was saying that the King (who was George at the time) was young, inexperienced, and had no right ruling the country, while the other man was defending the King.

Quickly, you had stepped in and defended the king. Eventually, the debate had ended and you turned to the man you were supporting, He asked if you could walk you home, and the rest was history.

Once you and George had been courting for a few months, (he had revealed his true identity already) he decided to let your relationship be known to the people of England. The news was not well received.

People of nobility and those you were not were appalled over the fact that you were just a commoner. Instantly, you received letters upon letters saying how you were nothing more than a dirty whore, looking to steal the government’s money and destroy the monarchy.

Each time you would receive one of these letters, George would rip it up and gather you into his arms. Then, he would draw patterns on your back, while reassuring you of his love.

You were brought from your thoughts with a sharp knock on the door. You wiped away the few tears that had slipped down your cheeks and called to see who it was.

“It’s me, my darling,” A familiar voice spoke.

The grin you wore earily returned as you heard the soothing voice of your fiancé. You took a few steps forward and you were about to open the door when a thought hit you.

“Goerge, you know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.” you chided him.

“I do not care, I want to see my beautiful bride. I cannot wait for you to officially be my queen” he admitted.

At the word queen, your smiled dropped and sat down on the nearest coach. Although a your heart was racing, you knew what you had to do.

“George?” you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “Are you absoutlley positive that you wish to marry me?” you questioned, voice cracking in the middle.

“Of course, my love. Why would you ever doubt the love I hold for you?” he asked you, shocked at your comment.

“I-I just, I am not royality.” you admitted, half ashmaded. “And I know many people did not want that wedding to happen for that reason. And while I was preparing, one of the maids told me I almost looked like a queen. I know she didn’t mean anything by it, but it just made me worried.” you explained, rushing through your sentences.

It was awhile until George spoke again and you knew it was partially him trying to deicive what he said. Finally, you heard shifting on the other side of the door, and you saw a bit of his hand underneath the door, searching for your hand.

Smiling, you let your fingers brush against his and sighed. “(y/n),” George started. “I do not care what others say, or if you are royalty or not. All that matters is I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” he confessed.

Now, a few tears of joy slipped down your cheeks, and you brushed them away laughing gently at yourself. How could you ever think such thoughts or doubt George’s love?

After you thanked your fiancé, you heard his footsteps get further away, and you took a look at yourself in the mirror. Luckily, your makeup was still in place, and you just had to pin back your hair a bit.

Not long after your conversation with your soon to be husband, a knock was heard at the door. You knew it was time to walk down the aisle.

You gripped tightly onto your wedding bouquet and took a few deeps breath to try and calm yourself down. Then, the wedding march started and the doors opened. All heads were turned towards you and you put on your brightest smile.

Slowly, but confidently, you glided down the aisle, your dress and veil flowing gracefully behind you. As you reached the alter, you turned towards George and he was beaming right back at you. He extended his arms and pulled back your veil, showing off your radiant face.

Once vows and rings had been exchanged the officiator of the wedding asked you both a simple, yet so important question that you had the same answer to.

“I do.”

“Then I now pronounce you husband and wife.” you heard briefly.

But before you could move, you one of George’s arms wrap around of your waist, while the other cupped your cheek. He brought you into a passionate kiss, pouring all of his love into it. 

When you pulled apart, you felt happier than you ever had before in your life. Taking your hand, George gently turned the both of you to face the crowd. Gazing across the sea of people, you saw everyone smile, which boosted your own confidence.

“May I introduce for the first time, King George and Queen (y/n).”

While the crowd applauded again, George leaned in and whispered in your ear, causing you to giggle.

“Did you hear that? Your my queen.”

Ten Years (Part 3)

Summary: AU. When a major account is on the line at work, reader is forced to revisit some old connections at her ten year high school reunion for a chance at success. Will she let the past consume her, or will she see the future in her grasp?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,279

Warnings: language, snark, excessive unlikely events

A/N: Meh?

Part: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8

Originally posted by buckypupbarnes

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Who You're Meant To Be

Summary: These are the minutes before the ceremony on the reader’s wedding day.

Characters: Reader, Dean, Cas, Sam mentioned

Word Count: 727

A/N: Pure feel good fluff!

You looked at yourself in the mirror. The reflection you saw there was someone you had always wanted to be. You were a woman in love, content, happy, and completely sure of what she was about to do. Your gown was simple. There were no sparkles, no full skirt, no ruffles. It was an off the shoulder lace gown with three quarter length sleeves. It was not too body hugging and the skirt had some movement in it. You usually wore your hair loose, but today you had put it up in a bun at the nape of your neck. You wanted Sam to take it down tonight. In a few minutes, you would officially be a Winchester.

There was a soft knock on the door. You turned from the mirror. “Come in.” It was Dean. He had no doubt come to check on you and report back to your groom. You had never seen Dean in a tux before. The butterflies started fluttering in your stomach. You had never seen Sam in one either, but you were about to.

Dean walked over to you and took your hands in his. He kissed you lightly on the cheek. “You’re beautiful, Y/N. My brother is a very lucky man.”

“How is Sam?”

“He’s pacing. He can’t wait to see you.”

“Keep him calm, Dean. Tell him I’ll be holding him soon.”

Dean tilted his head. “For you, I will.” He pulled an envelope out of his jacket pocket. “He wanted you to have this.”

You took the envelope from his hand. Sam had addressed it to: Y/N, my love, the woman who will be my wife. “I’m going to give you some privacy so you can read that.” You nodded still staring at the envelope. Then you looked up at the man who would soon be your brother. “I’ll tell him what you said.”

Dean turned and opened the door to leave. “Dean, tell him I love him.” He smiled and gave you a thumbs up.

You sat down with the letter. Your hands were slightly shaking as you opened it.


You make me feel things I have never felt before, and right now all I can think about is
spending the rest of my life with you. I’ll make you happy. I will live to see you smile. You
are beautiful in every way. I’m going to tell you every day and never let you forget. You are
everything that’s right and good in the world, Y/N. I will do all I can to be the
man you deserve.

My home is wherever you are. You’ve made me feel secure, and I didn’t think I’d ever have
that. I am going to remember everything about this day, so I can tell our children about it.
You are precious to me, my bride. Thank you for choosing me.

All my love is yours always,
You dabbed the tears at your eyes with the handkerchief you would be carrying today that had belonged to your grandmother. Cas appeared in time to see you press the letter to your heart. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Aren’t humans supposed to be happy on their wedding day?”

You smiled your most radiant smile. “I am happy Cas. Happier than I’ve ever been. Will you sit with me? The waiting is hard.”

“Of course. Is that what I’m supposed to do?”

“Yes, that’s what an attendant does. You are my bride’s angel, so that’s what you do. Do you have Sam’s ring?”

“It’s here.” He reached in his pocket to retrieve it and gave it to you. You held it in your hand. It would practically fit around two of your fingers. You brought it to your lips and kissed it before handing it back to Cas.

The church bells began to ring. Cas said, “I think that means Chuck’s here. It won’t be long now.” The butterflies in your stomach made their presence known again, stronger this time. It wasn’t everyone who got married by God himself.

“Will I be a good wife, Cas?”

“You already are. Nothing will change today except your name.”

Cas looked off into the corner of the room, then back at you. “Chuck says it’s time. Sam is waiting for you at the altar. Are you ready?”

You took his arm. “Completely.”

Tags: @nothin-after-79 @jotink78 @tom-is-in-my-tardis
@percussiongirl2017 @pain-of-artifice @raimie77 @fangirl1802
@roxy-davenport @mogaruke @27bmm @jensen-jarpad @sea040561 @ginamsmith @bea789 @emptywithout

Baby, Come Home (2/?)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning: Swearing

A/N: You were apart of The Avengers, in love with Captain America and suddenly everything is different. Two years later, you’re engaged to a man named Ryan and telling yourself you’re over Steve Rogers and The Avengers, but that might not be the truth. When your secrets start coming to the surface, you have to face the reality that you’ve been trying to bury for two years. Will you say I Do picturing Steve’s face or will you come to your senses and face what’s staring back at you?

(Steve POV in some places, italics are flashbacks)

@chrisevansthedoritobastard   @holahellohialoha  @almightyunnie @iwillbeinmynest  @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @castielohcastiel   @irepeldirt  @yourtropegirl  @bellejeunefillesansmerci  

Originally posted by imagine-that-marvel

Your light blue, three quarter length sleeve button down was tucked into your calf length, black pencil skirt, your black heels crunched dirt under your shifting feet. Your hair in waves falling over your shoulders blows in the light summer breeze, you had on black sunglasses, your painted light pink lips pressed together. You watched as he came into your line of sight, you stood at one of the many entrances to Central Park knowing he didn’t know you where there. His grey sweatpants fit perfectly on his hips, the red under armor shirt clinging to his arms and chest in that way that made your mouth water, even after all this time.

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Love or Hate (Part 4 of 13)

Summary: AU. When the reader’s shot at a better life is stolen from her, she continues to see the person responsible all over town. After a series of unfortunate events, will she learn that there’s a fine line between love and hate?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,030

Warnings: language, excessive snark, drinking, childish behavior, anger!

A/N: Reader gets revenge, but Bucky doesn’t like having a taste of his own medicine. Was it worth it? It’s making me insane. Sorry for the lateness, yesterday was crazy.

Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 -

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Bodies Together


Word Count: 2,511

Summary: Jungkook can no longer resist his innocent best friend

     "Jungkook oppa!  Let’s go!  I don’t want it to be too dark while we’re at the lake!“  Y/N yelled impatiently.
     "Relax doofus.  I’m coming.  Besides, I’m sure you’ll survive if it gets dark outside.”  Jungkook said, being the little shit he usually is.
     Y/N rolled her eyes and plopped herself down on the couch, unlocking her phone to scroll through Instagram while she was waiting.  Her knees were up close to her chest, which would be normal in any other circumstance, except in this situation Y/N was wearing a black floral dress.  The way she was positioned exposed her white lace panties.  She was completely oblivious to the show she was giving.  
     Jungkook came into the living room with his shirt only halfway on to ask Y/N for clothing advice.
     "Hey Y/N do you think this shirt looks okay with-“
     Jungkook froze in his tracks when he realized what he was witnessing.  He felt wrong but also excited when he noticed his best friend’s panties out in the open.  Especially since they were still on her.
     Jungkook shook his head and snapped back into the current world.
     "What?“  He asked, unsure of what Y/N had just said to him.
     "I said that you should wear that white semi transparent quarter length sleeved shirt you wear all the time instead.  It would fit better with the rest of your outfit.  Oh, and when you come to me for fashion advice maybe you should listen to what I say the first time.”  Y/N teased Jungkook.
     "Uh…yeah…right…I’ll keep that in mind.“  Jungkook turned around and went back into his bedroom to change his shirt.
     "God, he’s so weird.”  Y/N mumbled to herself.

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50 shades

Summary: Isaac gets to interview the most successful business woman in the state. Little does he know that she has other plans. 

 Warnings: SMUT BDSM 

 Note: dedicated to @isaaclahoes who helped me create this brainchild of smutty goodness. 

Part 2

 To say Isaac was infatuated would be an understatement, that is, if you asked his roommates. He had at least ten Forbes magazines with Ms. Y/L/N printed on the cover. He followed your rise to fame near religiously, and had interviewed you once or twice for a school paper. That’s why, when your secretary paged your office, announcing that a Mr. Lahey had requested an interview for his semester paper for his journalism class, your lips twitched upwards into a smirk, more than willing to oblige. You leaned forward, pressing the small black button on the intercom, “Schedule a meeting for a five o’clock dinner at my estate this Saturday,” your voice was calm and even as you spoke. “Yes, ma’am,”a sweet voice chirped from the device. You sat back, legs crossed, and hands clasped beneath your chin. Isaac Lahey had always piqued your interest. 

He walked around with this faux confidence, a smirk always plastered to those pink lips. Since the moment you saw him, you felt the need to crawl under his facade. The quiver in his voice when he’d first stepped into your office hadn’t gone unnoticed, and you itched to hear it again, to be calling out to you. Unbeknownst to your colleagues, you had a dark side. It was no secret you craved control in all aspects of your life, the bedroom being no different. Your latest craving being to control Isaac Lahey; to make him writhe, and moan, and ache to feel your touch. Oh yes, you were going to get what you wanted, as always.

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How an Apocalypse Now Poster Led to Oscar-Winning Costumes for Bram Stoker's Dracula

Francis Ford Coppola said that James V. Hart’s script for their 1992 movie Bram Stoker’s Dracula required the costumes to be the set. By collaborating with graphic designer Eiko Ishioka, Coppola fulfilled that vision and their work together resulted in some of the most memorable costumes ever made for these familiar characters.

This was not the Dracula familiar to audiences from earlier Universal and Hammer vampire films. It would be an adaptation of the well-known legend that was told, Ishioka said, as though everyone had taken acid. Her audacious designs provided much of the film’s drama and otherworldliness. Drawing on a deep well of inspiration, the designer chose a rich color palette and sumptuous fabrics that were sculpted into bold forms and patterns embellished with symbolic details.

Coppola and Ishioka had known each other for almost twenty years when he asked her to be the costume designer for his production.  In 1979, she designed a striking Japanese poster series for Apocalypse Now and was coincidentally tapped to design the Japanese edition of Eleanor Coppola’s book Notes: On the Making of Apocalypse Now.  Five years later, Coppola executive-produced Paul Schrader’s film, Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters, a highly theatrical, historical drama with Ishioka serving as production designer.  

They came back together in 1987 when Coppola directed the Rip Van Winkle episode of the television series “Faerie Tale Theatre,” with Ishioka providing the artistic concepts for production designer Michael Erler. Ishioka’s eerie and moody mise-en-scène complements Coppola’s storytelling, and it was due to this personal and professional history that Coppola turned to Ishioka, someone he knew and trusted, once he determined the importance of costumes to his production of Dracula.

Coppola called Ishioka “a weirdo outsider with no roots in the business,” and it is that very quality that sets her work apart. Their collaboration also allowed her to take advantage of her gift for mixing Eastern and Western cultures, and the result is a decadent, surreal atmosphere through which the richly layered mysteries of each character are unveiled.

Determined to modernize the main character, Ishioka transformed one of the story’s most familiar tropes – the black cape that Dracula uses to shield his actions from the eyes of others. Ishioka banished the expected cape and instead costumed Gary Oldman in a crimson red robe that billows behind him as he prowls about his castle.

A fantastic red suit of armor that resembles a flayed human also contributes to his aura of power. The color of both costumes associates him with the blood that he craves.

Nature was a primary source of inspiration for Ishioka, who injected organic details into many of the film’s costumes. For example, Tom Waits’s character Renfield is confined in a mental hospital in a quilted straightjacket constructed of rough gray fabric that makes him look like an insect.

The peppermint-green party dress worn by Sadie Frost’s character, Lucy Westenra, is embroidered with intertwining snakes as a symbol of her character’s eroticism.

Most memorably, Lucy’s spectacular wedding dress was inspired by the Australian frilled lizard, a creature that unfurls a collar of skin when threatened. In Ishioka’s hands, the lace collar creates the illusion that Lucy’s head is disassociated from her body; her jeweled choker draws attention to her neck, the erogenous zone that is the focus of Dracula’s attention.

Lucy’s costumes reflect her wealth and liberal sexual mores and contrast with those of Winona Ryder’s Mina Murray, a middle-class teacher who lacks Lucy’s sophistication. The contrast is perhaps most obvious in the wedding dress that Mina wears to take her vows to Jonathan Harker, played by Keanu Reeves.

Where Lucy’s wedding dress is a study in texture designed to identify her as a creature not wholly human, Mina’s bridal costume is a sedate Victorian-era garment. Rendered in a soft, gray-green fabric, it reveals her character’s modest nature with its high neckline and structured construction. This dress contrasts sharply with the costume she wears when Dracula finally seduces her.

Revealing and blood red, Mina’s dress features an open neckline and three-quarter length sleeves with romantic open cuffs. Ishioka’s color choice ties the two lovers together in a burst of passion that cannot be contained.

Photo: Ralph Nelson

These drawings, and many more, are part of the Margaret Herrick Library’s Eiko Ishioka papers and can be viewed here.

Information on the film’s Academy Award® nominations and wins can be found here.

Love Online - Chapter 3

This is a continuation of Love Online. You can find Chapter 1 HERE and Chapter 2 HERE.  Thanks again to @booklvr4 for the original story prompt.  Enjoy!  


Tomorrow.  Tomorrow her world would change.  All of her hopes and dreams will converge, culminating into the form of Jamie Fraser.  Tomorrow she would begin the greatest adventure of her life with the man she loved.

She had stopped at a little cafe for lunch and caught herself tapping her nails on the table in a relentless rhythm.  She forced herself to stop, seeing the eyes of the other customers on her.

“Sorry,” she said apologetically to the couple next to her.

She had to calm down.  Why was she so nervous?  She loved him and he loved her.  Nothing really mattered other than that, did it?  But for some reason, she was frantic about meeting him.  

As she thought about it, she realized that she was actually worried about what he’d think of her.  A man that hot (and by his profile pic she knew he was) could get any woman he wants.

But he wants you, she told herself.  He said so.

This was ridiculous.  She was working herself up into hysterics for no reason.  The waiting was killing her.  

In an effort to calm her mind, she decided that she would take the rest of the day off.  She had done her rounds at the hospital that morning, and had planned to do her patient reports this afternoon, but with her current mindset, there was no way she could think clearly enough to do them.  

She decided to go browse the dress shops for something to wear on their all-important date.  She wanted something sophisticated, but also incredibly sexy.  She had often been told she had nice legs, so perhaps a short dress would be good, something mid-thigh.  Accentuate the positive, as they say. What color?  She didn’t want to go with black.  Everyone wore black.  She wanted to be distinctive.  She wanted him to look at her like no one else existed.  Red.  She always looked really good in red.  

Overwhelmed by all the wardrobe possibilities, she decided she needed to bring in reinforcements.  Picking up her phone, she dialed Jillian.


“Claire!  How are you, darling?”

“Nervous as hell.”

“Ah, the big date is tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.  I’m shopping for a dress.  Help!”

“You’ve come to the right person.  Where are you?”

“Catherine’s on Dumbarton.”

“Ok.  Meet me at the cafe across the street in ten minutes.  Cao!”

Jillian arrived in short order and then took Claire to an exclusive shop a few blocks away.  Claire had never been in this shop, and she knew why.  

“Christ!  Is this price in pesos?  There’s no way that can be pounds!”

“I’m afraid it is, Claire.  Fashion comes at a price, my dear.  Besides, you’re a doctor, you have plenty of money.”

“No, I have plenty of school loans.  That is what I have.  If I was rich, do you really think I’d live in a one-bedroom flat the size of a matchbox?”

“It’s not that bad, Claire.”

“I know.  I’m just so nervous, Jill.  I’ve never got so worked up over anyone like this before.”

“Let’s find you something that will blow his mind.  Then perhaps, he’ll let you blow his…”

“Jillian!”  She exclaimed, laughing despite herself.

After looking around the shop for a good half hour, Claire finally found what she was looking for.

“Oh, Jill!  Look at this one!  Isn’t it divine?”

Jill looked at the short, red number and her eyes got wide.  “Claire!  It’s perfect!  Just the right amount of sex and class.  Try it on!”

Claire took the dress into the changing room.  She had never worn a dress quite this provocative before.  The skirt came right to mid-thigh.  The color was not just red, but a deep, rich crimson.  It had three-quarter length sleeves and a deep V neck, but not too deep, the edge skimming just off the shoulders.  The result was very elegant, tasteful, and drop dead sexy.

She came out of the changing room to show Jillian the dress.  Jillian squealed with excitement.

“Oh my God, Claire!  Yes!  That’s it!  He will explode at the first sight of you.”

“Jillian!  For God’s sake.  Is that all you can think about?” 

“It will be all *he* can think about when he sees you.”

“Is it too much?”

“Just enough, I’d say.  Ring it up!”

After making her purchase, she bid Jillian goodbye, assuring her friend that she was more than capable of finding shoes to wear with her dress.

“Call me and tell me EVERYTHING that happens tomorrow.  EVERYTHING!”  Jillian yelled out of the cab window.

Claire laughed as she headed down the street.

Keep reading

Not to be that 23 y/o who won’t let go of 2007 but honestly my favorite shirt is a tight black top with quarter length sleeves and I want to buy ten more and never wear anything else


Hello! I am Vincent! I am a Gender Fluid teen, giving away some of my old female clothing.

I can pay shipping ONLY if you 100% can’t. If you can, great!

I will ship anywhere in the US.

My URL is grim-pyromaniac. Message me if you are interested in any of the clothing in the pictures.

The pink bra is a size 34B pushup. Only worn once. Been washed since then!

The white bra is a 36B pushup. Worn probably about seven times. Has been washed!!

The gray bra is a 36B front-clipping workout bra. Never worn. Without tags.

The black/navy-blue jacket thing is a exactly what it looks like. It’s a size small. And the sleeves are pretty short.

The strapless shirt is a Medium, shimmering zebra stripe. It does not have pads. It is very comfortable. Only worn once. Has been washed since.

Next is a baby blue Aeropostale zipper-less hoodie. Size small. The sleeves are kinda tight. And long… But comfortable nonetheless!

Next is a XS gray and white long-sleeved striped shirt from Old Navy. I wore a lot… But it has been washed. Really good shirt. Seriously.

Then there is the XS gray button-up shirt. Really good condition. Wore it twice. Comes with a safety pin in case the buttons… expand.

Then there is the blue button-up shirt. Same as the gray one. Just the sleeves are tighter.

Last, is the blue quarter-length sleeve shirt. It’s a good sleepwear shirt. Very comfortable. Size XS. Fits like a medium.

All the item above have been washed since the last time they were worn!!! They are all good condition. But kinda small. Because I’m small… -_-

I would be willing to accept a swap, if you can’t pay shipping. Any masculine clothing (shirts S/M, shorts 30/30, pants 30/30) Also a binder. Swapping is appreciated. But not necessary. Message me if you are interested!

URL is grim-pyromaniac

(Sorry for the long post!)

It was prom this Saturday, and you know what that means… a Prom based fic! I’ll also post some photos of me in my dress a little later if anyone’s interested:) So here ya go!

Amy had heard about “Prom” from Eggman actually. In one of their FuzzyPuppie turned counseling-sessions, Eggman had been blubbering about his days in the human world, and how when he was in ‘high school’ he had wanted nothing more than to be ‘Prom Queen.”

“Prom…Queen?” Amy had asked, confused by both terms. Queen certainly wasn’t a word she would have ever associated with Eggman.

“It’s a lovely evening!” Eggman sobbed, “Where you wear beautiful dresses that go down to the floor, and- and fancy tuxedos…” He sniffled, “All of it… not just the suit jacket…” 

“What exactly do you do at prom?” Amy probed, as if the idea of floor length gowns didn’t excite her enough

“Dance…and stuff…” Eggman was recovering, sitting up off the couch and preparing to leave. He got up. “And then at the end of the night, the most pretty and popular girl gets to be Prom Queen,” He sighed dramatically and threw open her door, “Oh I’ll never get to be Prom Queen!” He threw his hand on his head.

“Wait wait, so you’re telling me-”


He had left as dramatically as he had come.

Keep reading

Kiss Me

(This was a song request. Feel free to talk with me in my inbox!)

     The night had taken a turn. So much so that even now, when they ought to be sound in their slumber, they stay under a twilight moon. In the midst of their surprise rendezvous, you watched as the sky took it’s starry hold in the atmosphere. Placing the clear awaking of day with the black and misty hold of night. Harry noticed the fixation of your eyes against the stars as you two sat in the midnight train. It was always on an automatic route, open cargo cars for reckless teenagers to enjoy stargazing from.

   Your eyes shone brightly under the flourishing moonlight, as did the emerald of Harry’s. The adoration between the two of you couldn’t be denied. It was a force that now, after the duration of day had taken its affect and slathered its daily warrant of fatigue upon you, still kept you aware of the stunning setting that unfolded.

“Yeh wore the dress love” He states. The deep tone of his voice cut like daggers through the chilly silk of the once silent air.

The dress wasn’t something magical. Just a simple right-below-the-knee cut, and some quarter length sleeves. The garment was something of a plain cream color, yet Harry liked the textured feeling of it under the pads of his fingers.

“You wore your shoes and shirt I see” You reply. The floral embroidery of his top bellowed under the breeze that trailed the lighting quick train. Shoes of tan sued to faintly tap against the metal floor of the cargo car. The noise echoed.

    Once again, it wasn’t something abnormal. A pretty common thing for his shirt to be a button too loose, and for his boots to come to a steady point at the edge of his toes. Another simplistic combination that held an odd meaning in your eyes. A sign of beauty in his ability to grace such an outfit. He thought it was such a shame that you couldn’t see it in yourself. Your eloquence held a focal point in the clouds of his distracted mind. A mind that had drifted away from your clothes and stayed to linger on the blurring scenery in front of him.

The environment became more familiar as the train approached your destination. It was when the train came to a sudden halt that he grabbed your frigid hand and allowed you to disembark with him. One step by one step until two pair of wiggly feet felt the ground beneath their lanky bodies.

“M'never been here this late a'night” Harry murmured subtly. The tips of his fingers dancing along the exposed skin of your dress. They felt cold and arose a chill along your flesh. A kiss was placed to your temple before he stepped a little farther ahead of you as guidance.

“You know where we’re going don’t you?” You questioned. You wish you had payed more attention to the location. The final stop would be a surprise to your eager eyes, and a glimmering joy in his. He’d plan much into this little hide out of his. “O’ course love. Found this place at nigh’. Looks beautiful.” He spoke. Something in his tone suggested that he wasn’t talking about his secret.

    The next few minutes consists of a comfortable silence. You felt the leaves crunch beneath your own shoes, and enjoyed it. The sparkling moon held a hazy reflection in the puddles you accidentally stepped in, and you twisted your head backwards every time, watching the image blurs in ripples before swaying like a mini tide. The nature of it al consumed our thoughts in a whirlwind. It was magnificent. No wonder Harry had been so eager to have you stroll your way over here. It wasn’t something you’d necessarily forget anytime soon. “Almos’ there love” He stated. He paused his waking for a second to glance at your flats that adorned your feet. He purses a smile before speaking again with a slight chuckle behind his words.

“Might wanna take those off” He spoke with a pearly grin. It was ironic how similar it was to a Cheshire Cat, even more so in the night. As you approached your destination, you could see why. There was a tree house, maybe three stories high, with dusty stairs that winded around its base and slithered around its neck. The tree had a room perches at its very tip, where the makeshift rails and wooden bridge entrance faded into a sturdy floor. Your movements were timid as you took of you shoes and placed them by the trunk neatly. He did the same with his and slowly lead you up. The view seemed to twirl as you did. A gasp escaped your lips when you entered the top. A blanket was draped under a small lamp, and a petite radio sung a mellow tune in the background. The wind sang with it through the sliver of window space. A soft heaven seemed to hang in the toasty air.

“This is… Just- Just beautiful” You gushed. The sight was really a jaw dropper. The authenticity of it all pulled at your emotions as he lead you two to take a crouching seat. You sipped on the water he had gave to you. Harry’s body remained close to yours in the small, comforting space. Your head draped against the broad curve of his shoulder before resting on the crook of his neck.

      All of your breathes were heard as you exhaled contently. The faintest of adoring smirks laid on the surface of his lips, and you couldn’t help but travel your sight towards the raspberry colored flesh. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he watched your own. Everything about you allured his body. The intoxicating scent of your detergent and shampoo that lingered in your hair after a nighttime shower. The taste of your soft knuckles at the base of his mouth as he plants kisses. The graceful sight of your smile when you giggle at a lame joke of his. The sweet sound of your voice, as if rivers and a velvet sky morphed in one along a tropical sunset.

You realized where his gaze followed moments after his trailing thoughts ended. You placed a perky smile upon them and an ungodly blush blanketed his reddened skin. Harry’s neck snapped up and looked through thick lashes. They looked dark against the tanned marble of his skin. Skin that became illuminated, even under the limited sprinkles of light.

“M’sorry.. Yeh jus’ look so beautiful now” He said in a flustered tone. It was quite cute frankly. You chuckled and he joined the laughter.

     It was nice. Having some fun. Feeling the increase of your heartbeat when his hand brushed against your thigh, or when you two ran and jumped aboard the reeling train. The lighthearted laughter fell from his mouth, continuing until you two were back down on the wooden flooring of the tree house. The windows that hung on the ceiling gave a clear view of the twilight sky. Numerous stars the crossed the dark night.

Minutes passed by, mumbles of chatter and giggles floating about. It was his constant wandering gaze that brought him back to the wonderful sight of your face. The proximity of his lips to your skin was frightening and electrifying all at once, and the mere thought alone clouded your mind. You finally gave into the irresistible urge and faced him. The strong hold of his forest green gaze held your eyes captive, swallowing your poised demeanor and replacing it with butterflies. They rumbled in anxiety as his mouth opened to speak.

“Yeh look beautiful tonight” He whispered. Harry chuckled at the thought. Your beauty was all he thought about, but he couldn’t help it if he was left for lack of words.

“As do you” You found yourself surprised at the tone of confidence your voice carried. It surely didn’t represent your feelings at the moment.

And his words fumbled in silence as his eyes drooped close and he leaned forward. Just enough so that his lips were one or two centimeters away from your own. His voice pierced your ears as he muttered. The words came out choppy and incoherent. A mixture of beginning sounds, but never an ending, for his mind could not possibly comprehend his desire for the feel of your love and mouth against his. So they came out straightforward and blunt, yet soft and feather like as they reached your ears and tickled at the goose bumps of your skin.

“I jus’- love can I jus ki- a lil’ taste. I wanna kiss yeh so bad darling”

Your hands grasped for the firm structure of his jaw and pulled him closer. To where your mouth brushed the shell of his ear. A slight gasp left his lungs. Harry’s eyes were drooping with anticipation for the soft flesh.

“So kiss me” You whispered. Your warm breath only had a moment to fan, for he tugged your arms down gently and followed your command. His sturdy fingers hooked around the bend of your ear, putting the slightest of pressure to close the sparks.

      The feeling of it all had seemed to drown out the stars themselves, only the penetration of the moon’s silver rays to be felt under his hot eyelids. All you could do was feel. That’s all you wanted to do. Feel the passion of this rendezvous and stitch the memory of it all in your heart, the place where Harry let his hand rest as you two pulled away for a quick breath. Your back falls lightly against the blanket and his body leans sideways to yours. His torso meeting the cushion comforter, but his neck craned to kiss your aching lips once more. His right hand snaked down your side and held our hand. The length of his fingers outstretching over yours, anxious to receive more. The romantic tension had made no tangible presence till now, and although it stuck out like a sore thumb in the cozy room, the sense of it all was calm and serene. No worries and no rush. Just you, Harry, and the colorless shadows he painted across the wooden tree house. You felt his glowing smile against you. He wanted to feel the tension evaporate, and so it did. It dissipated into thin air when you two fell back again against the makeshift blanket.

      The fabric of it felt like green, lush grass. Your chest slightly panting from the prolonged kiss, but heart pounding in an ecstatic charge. The view of his smile seemed crooked from the side, but you gazed upon the sky for another sight. You wanted to touch the blistering lights that the stars created. Longing for that sense of adventure to instill within your system once again. But his kisses felt like the soft stars themselves, and his smile grew you hotter than the burning sun, so you gave up the atmosphere’s stars for something more. Traded that adventure for one that laid down right besides you. For a man who held all the stars in his eyes and all the wonder in his kisses.


—Neymar Imagine: New Years in Rio (Midnight) Pt.1—

I had just finished with the final touches of my make-up when Rodrigo walked into the bathroom.
“You ready?” he asked, peeking his head around the doorframe.
“Almost,” I responded. “I just have to put on my dress and douse myself in perfume.”
“It’s almost 10:30! Hurry up!” he warned me.
I walked out of the bathroom and over to the closet that I had set my luggage in. I had hung a few select pieces of clothing, my dress included, to avoid it wrinkling any further. It had several days to transform back into the way it had looked prior to packing it.
I grabbed it off the hanger and slid it up over my hips, pulling my arms through the sleeves. The dress was a shimmery, deep, hunter green. The quarter length sleeves cut off at my elbows, while the length stopped just lower than my mid thigh. My back was exposed, with the material falling just above the lowest portion of my back. It was a bold but chic look for a New Years dress.
“Rodrigo,” I yelled, trying to get his attention.
“Yeah?” he shouted from the sitting area.
“Can you help me?”
He made his way over to the room I was in and stopped in the doorway, staring.
“What?” I asked. “It’s terrible, isn’t it?”
He swallowed hard. “Hardly. You are stunning,” he said, his voice barely audible.
His compliment made me smile. “Can you clasp this for me?” I asked, turning my back to him.
He walked over to me and clasped the back of my dress finishing the ensemble. He turned me around to look at me again, his hands grasping my arms.
“You look phenomenal, seriously,” he said, and I could feel my cheeks warm.
We had a little over one hour until midnight. A last minute decision landed me in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil to visit with my friend Rodrigo. I decided to go there on a whim and it had been a hell of a trip thus far. I was hoping to start the New Year off right.
I slid into my black pumps and sprayed myself with my best smelling perfume.
“Ready,” I said, walking out the bathroom.
I wrapped my arm in Rodrigo’s and we headed downstairs to his car. He opened my door and I climbed in then he followed, and we were off to one of the biggest clubs in Rio.
I had no idea where he was taking me; he just promised I’d love it, so I didn’t ask any questions. It wasn’t long before we had arrived, and it wasn’t long before I was four drinks in and dancing on the floor.
The time had passed by quickly. I decided to go to the bathroom before I got stuck in the New Year’s madness when the clock struck midnight.
On my way out of the bathroom, I was searching for Rodrigo. I couldn’t find him anywhere. It was like a needle in a haystack trying to navigate through the crowd. I started to get anxious since I was by myself. Losing sight of where I was and what I was doing, I ran into someone walking in the opposite direction. Their drink spilt all over my chest and neck. I could feel the stickiness from the drink running down the inside of my dress.
When I looked up to scold them, I realized it was Neymar. I’m pretty sure my heart stopped beating in that moment. I wasn’t sure if I had had to much to drink and was hallucinating or if he was actually standing right in front of me.
“I am so sorry!” he shouted over the music, nervously patting my chest dry with a paper napkin.
“I didn’t even see you,” he continued.
I grabbed his hand instinctively, to remove it from my chest. “It’s okay,” I said.
I could hear the people in the background come over the microphone to start counting down the final minute of 2014.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized again. “I’ll buy you a new dress.”
I smiled at him. He was more gorgeous in person than his pictures. “Really. It’s not a big deal. It can be washed.”
“Well how can I make it up to you?” he asked. “I’m sure this is not how you planned on starting off the New Year.”
They had hit 30 seconds on the clock for the countdown. I looked over at the clock then back over at him and laughed. “Covered in an alcoholic beverage?” I asked. “No, not exactly.”
“I feel terrible,” he said. “Let me fix this.”
“Really, it’s okay. There’s nothing we can do about it right now.”
I went to walk away to continue looking for Rodrigo, but Neymar grabbed my arm.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Y/N,” I replied.
“Do you know who I am?”
I laughed. “Of course I do.”
He grinned from ear to ear. “I usually get a different reaction than this,” he said loudly, trying to talk over the background noise.
“What kind of reaction is that?” I asked. “The star struck reaction?”
“5…4….3…2…1!” the DJ shouted from the microphone.
Before I could say anything Neymar grabbed the back of my head with his free hand and pulled me into his face, locking his lips on mine. Everything stopped in that moment: my pulse, my heartbeat, my breathing, the music, the sounds, the cheering. I didn’t hear anything. I just felt his lips on mine, and it was like my own personal heaven.  
He deepened the kiss unexpectedly, our tongues intertwining with the each other’s. I felt everything below my waste go numb and my hands involuntarily grasped the back of this neck. It felt like we were the only two people in the room for a moment, and then just like that it was over.
“That reaction,” he said, pulling his mouth from mine.
I couldn’t even speak. I was still coming down off of my high. Was I dreaming?
“Happy New Year y/n,” he said when I didn’t respond.
All I could do was smile.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” I replied, wiping the side of my mouth. “Didn’t expect that.”
“Well you wanted to know the reaction I usually get,” he laughed. “That was it.”
“Women literally try to mob you and make out with you?” I asked.
“You seem surprised,” he retorted.
I laughed at his response. “I guess I shouldn’t be. I’m just still trying to decipher if this is real life.”
He threw his head back in laughter. “You’re cute,” he said, popping his pointer finger on my nose. “I owed you anyway for spilling my drink on you.”
“Oh so that was a sympathy kiss?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, his smile turning into a frown.
“There you are!” Rodrigo called, quickly approaching us.
“Hey,” I replied, never taking my eyes off of Neymar.
He looked over at Neymar then back at me.
“I see the two of you have met I guess.”
“Hey,” Neymar said, extending his hand for a handshake.
Rodrigo accepted, shaking his hand in return. “Rodrigo,” he replied.
“She isn’t your girlfriend is she?” Neymar asked, suddenly worried about the passionate kiss we’d just shared moments ago.
“No,” we both replied simultaneously.
Rodrigo looked over at me then back at Neymar. “I can leave you two alone if I’ve interrupted something,” he said, unsure of the situation.
“It’s okay,” I replied. “I was looking for you and stumbled upon him. I’m sure he has somewhere to be anyways.”
I turned to Rodrigo and gestured him to start walking. He turned to walk back towards the bar and I started to follow but Neymar grabbed my hand, stopping me in my tracks. He raised my hand to his mouth and kissed it softly then walked over to me so that we were standing face to face.
“Best New Years kiss ever,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear.
The feeling ignited something deep inside of me, but I had to control the temptation. I smiled and turned to follow Rodrigo to the bar.


So this is my first imagine. Tell me what you think and if I should do a Pt. 2

Advice: Difference Between Exposition and Info-Dumping

 asked: People always talk about how exposition/info dumps/backstory are a no no in first chapters, but ive read paragraphs of exposition in the 1st chapter of the hunger games/the golden compass. Im confused now. I need SOME info dumping, right?

I think you may be confused about what info-dumping is, but let me see if I can get it sorted out. :)

Exposition and info-dumping are two different things. Exposition is the act of explaining back story, setting, characters, etc. It’s a necessary part of telling the story. Info-dumping is exposition gone wrong. It’s when too much information is given all at once, and typically the following things happen:
  • it brings the action to a grinding halt for several paragraphs or more
  • most of the information isn’t important in that moment
  • there are unnecessary details

If you re-read the first chapter of The Hunger Games, you’ll find that none of that actually occurs. There are no more than a few paragraphs of exposition at a time and they are woven into the action. For example, Katniss describes the layout of District 12 while she’s walking through it. The information is relevant to that moment in the story and there are are no unnecessary details.

You can avoid info-dumping by doing the same thing:

  • Break-up your exposition by placing it where it’s the most relevant. If the information isn’t important to what’s happening right now, it can wait.
  • Weave your exposition into the action by relating it to what’s happening now. For example, Katniss describing the layout of District 12 because she’s walking through it at the time.
  • Avoid details that aren’t necessary. Before including a detail, ask yourself if it really adds anything to the description. For example, you can tell me that your character is wearing a red sweater that she bought at the thrift store, and it’s covered in cat hair–and all of those details tell me something about the character. But if you go on to tell me it’s a cable-knit sweater with quarter-length sleeves and a v-neck collar, you’re getting into details that don’t really matter. I don’t need to know what the sleeves and collar look like unless the sweater plays a really big part in the story.

I hope that clears everything up! :) <3