Victorian style steampunk greenhouse.
RMH
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Claire Keane
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

blake kathryn
Monterey Bay Aquarium

if i look back, i am lost
Keni
ojovivo

Kiana Khansmith
hello vonnie
Cosimo Galluzzi
DEAR READER


TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Jules of Nature
Sade Olutola
almost home
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@qsarrae
Victorian style steampunk greenhouse.

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@kaaras-adaar
Up to this point her job, either one of them, had been far more difficult than it should have been. Far more difficult than she was used to. The language barrier was mostly to blame. The culture still confused her. It meant negotiating with merchants, even getting their attention most of the time, fell flat. Many times she ended up leaving the deal with subpar materials and incorrect change (she suspected). She made due with what she had, delivered exceptional results, and her clients walked away happy and always willing to return.
However, once she took the Inquisitor as a client everything changed. The merchants were not only eager to work with her, they offered discounts, attention, their best materials and accessories. It almost made her feel at home. She even made a very good deal with one of the merchants that landed her the same benefits that would carry over beyond her order with the Inquisitor.
Imogen poured over her notes from the original measurement taking, fixed some markings based on her memory of his size and build, and set to work. Six attempts, and four weeks of near non-stop work and she had something passable. No. She couldn’t give The Inquisitor, who not only ran this outfit but seemed to have an importance about him that no one could quite articulate to her something only passable.
And it was another week of sewing, carefully ripping out seams, swearing, and a lot of wine before she had something of good quality. Simple, warm yet breathable, and should fit him in all the right places as his other clothing didn’t seem to do.
She made an appointment with Josephine for the fitting, and the day of she packed the four pairs of trousers, and two tunics — which had some resemblance of the tunics the men wore back home — along with her best teas and made her way to the Inquisitor’s tower.
It wasn’t easy juggling the heavy box up the stairs, and once or twice she imagined herself tumbling down them. That would be just perfect, wouldn’t it? To have her end from falling down the stairs, breaking her neck on the cold ruins of a castle in a far away land that she knew nothing about, away from her friends, loved ones, and life. Not like anyone knew where she was, anyway. She could be dead for all any of them knew.
Stop. Not now.
Imogen let out a long breath and knocked on the heavy wooden door. “Inquisitor?”
|| Look, i had PLANS this spring for Imogen’s blog but then i had to go and forget my password so it’s been a fking while. It’s not you, it’s totally been me. But all recovered now and ready to do THINGS.
tavis-of-bannorn:
Tavis nodded along, and at the ‘being able to afford things’ comment he felt a bit bad and padded the rations in his bags with his fingertips to see how much was there. Well, he was still poor in a manner of speaking, but only ‘mostly poor’ if he got kicked out of the inquisition, because all he had to his name that was worth much was what benefited the almighty Inquisitors forces. “Thank you for the information.” He nodded towards the woman and handed her the rations he had on him. He didn’t need them, he wouldn’t travel that day, and he lived on less in the wild when he was starving. Tavis asked around for the seamstress/ sex workers name but he could never find it. Instead, he had to go with the physical description. When he was able to make out the person who undeniably fit her description, he dismounted from his hart and proceeded to approach her cautiously. “I’m afraid I don’t have a name to identify you with.” He looked around, a bit nervous and uncertain, and then looked back at the woman with a small smile. “Are you the seamstress?
Once upon a time Imogen wished she could see snow, dig her fingers through it, build figures and small houses with it, pelt friends in the back with packed together balls of snow like she had read about in books. She remembered wishing to walk in it in the dead of night, hearing the crunch of it beneath her feet, listen to the way it quieted the world around her. Watch as both sun and moonlight sparked against its frozen crystals. Everything she read about ti was a goddamn fucking lie. Snow was cold, and wet, and sloshy, and she hated every minute of it. It melted into her cloak, made its way into her shoes, froze her hands as though her gloves didn’t even exist only adding to her dread and growing dislike of this place. The constant cold kept her nerves on edge, her irritation and anger taught, ready to snap at any minute. And all she wanted to do was go home. Home... where she understood the people, the language, their culture. Where there weren’t disfigured monsters crawling out of every crack, and there wasn’t a giant fucking hole in the sky spewing even more monsters! What sort of nightmarish had she landed herself in? This did nothing to convince her that she really hadn’t died on that ship and this was her punishment. She laid he pair of trousers she was working on in her lap, her finger rubbed the bridge of her nose, and she sighed at the onset of the headache. This is my life now. This is my hell. And that was when her space had been invaded. Not that that was anything new. It was how she made her living after all. Imogen picked up the cup of whiskey beside her and took a long drink. This would be so much easier if she could understand a single word any of them said. Still, a paying customer was a paying customer, right? assuming that was what he wanted from her. She looked him over as he spoke, simple clothes, nice smile, pretty hair, pointy ears -- she’d have to find out what that meant some day, what race they were, what their story told. He carried no bundle for her needle which meant, he searched for a companion. Her head tilted, maybe. Though he seemed nervous it wasn’t the type of nervous that usually accompanied companion request. She crossed her legs, rested her elbow on her knees, chin in hand and gave him a smile, waiting for him to indicate what he wanted.
Silence
@qsarrae Over the course of a few weeks Tavis had become more and more bored waiting for their next excursion. In the meantime he had been all across the fortress, and had heard some curious rumors. Apparently there was a woman in camp who was a sex worker, and she never spoke. He wouldn’t have given it a second thought but the way they spoke about her concerned him. His best friend was a sex worker, so the job itself wasn’t about to upset him, he wasn’t a prude, but he had an unsettling feeling in his gut that he couldn’t ignore. And from how they spoke it seemed that she didn’t have a literal voice. Apparently she was in the refugee camp. His friend was a rich courtesan who had hardly any worries, and she had the luxury of power. What power did this woman have? He worried about that. Tavis listened to their description of her while pretending to organize the inventory. Tavis rode out to the refugee camp in search for someone that fit her description. He brought fresh loaves of bread that he stole from the kitchens and sat by the fire, handing them out to everyone. “Is there a woman here with deep grey eyes like a morning fog, short black hair and a wicked smile?”
Oh, aye. The woman knew of who he spoke. The one who attracted the attention of many of the soldiers lately. It wasn’t any of her business what happened between the black haired woman and these soldiers, but it wasn’t proper, she knew that. “Know of her, aye. Not much for conversation though.” The woman stirred the pot of stew that simmered over the fire as she looked the elf up and down. “And you seem able to afford proper sewing...but none of my business...none of my business at all.”

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Hello Friends, I may not be around on Tumblr these days, but I’m still very interested in chatting and RP with all of you – especially if we had done so in the past, or you always wanted to. Please come find me, and Imogen on discord at wupuga[hashtag]4315. Please let me know who you are when reaching out :)
Hello Friends, I may not be around on Tumblr these days, but I’m still very interested in chatting and RP with all of you -- especially if we had done so in the past, or you always wanted to. Please come find me, and Imogen on discord at wupuga[hashtag]4315. Please let me know who you are when reaching out :)
I LOVE YOUR DARKNESS IN YOU by Mira Nedyalkova
The Queen of the Night from Mozart’s Magic Flute (1818) by Simon Quaglio

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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queen of the gods

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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