#tailortoheroes

[romulus-quirinus]

tailortoheroes is on file

Romulus wears bespoke Italian suits, or lounges around naked.

There is no in between unless you count the process of the suits coming off.

[akihiro-daken1]

tailortoheroes is in your sights

Daken wears besoke and/or hand-made everything.

His ripped jeans were artistically made that way.

His scuffed sneakers... probably weren’t, but hey, they were expensive once and they’re comfy.

That silk tie is hand made, that vest even more so.

He never walks out of a designer boutique empty-handed.

[loptrapologist]

tailortoheroes is in class

Arwen doesn’t own a single ball gown-type dress, and has never owned one.

[winterxsteven]

 tailortoheroes liked your post:Since I want more threads like this for a... 

Steve knew Tony hired a tailor to make his new uniform but he couldn’t be bothered by it today. The former Asset didn’t want to spend hours trying to come up with a new look when his was just find but apparently it reminded the team of when he was controlled by Hydra. He sighed as he heard the elevator go off. “You the tailor?”

[notkatiekate]

[Munday! It me and this fucking loser down in Florida two weeks ago! (I’m the wee spritely one in the skirt and she’s my gorgeous mother making faces at you)]

[theonesupergirl]

tailortoheroes

“You know, I’d like to think that  I keep up with the trends.”

[cameronxstark]

+tailortoheros

>>Am I supposed to enjoy this?<<

[tailortoheroes]

old habits

“Phoebe? Phoebe Addams?” she hears from behind her. It’s been a while since anyone’s called her by her middle name, but it’s as easy toanswer to as ever. She slows, allows herself to be caught by the man who’s calling. In half a second she’s met with a lip ring, hair longer than she’d prefer, and a pair of hazel eyes that stir memories of afternoons spent lazily in the woods and stolen kisses in theatre dressing rooms.  

“Adam!” she exclaims, arms wrapping around the slim frame of the boy who’d held her heart when she was sixteen. “It’s so good to see you again.”

...

Brown eyes blink open lazily as Madge wakes slowly, swathed in unfamiliar sheets and cradled in someone’s arms. These are the moments that she lives for, when she feels safe, warm, and, at least momentarily, loved.

“The smile upon my lips, it will surely never die as I'm waiting here for you until you're by my side.” Adam whispers into her hair, and the blissful sigh she was about to release sticks in her throat.

“It is too early for poetry,” Madge huffs, already feeling reality rearing its ugly head.

“Oh come on, Phee,” he goads, using the nickname that he still thinks belongs to him. “You love it.”

“You mean I pretended to love it for four months,” she replies haughtily. That’s all it takes for his arms to stiffen, and the moment is officially over, just like that. Madge almost regrets it, but she’s too busy untangling herself from his grip and the sheets to give it that much thought. As she collects her clothes from the floor, he finally speaks up.

“What happened to you, Phoebe?” her third boyfriend asks, hazel eyes now cold. “I thought you were different.”

And she had been, at least when she was with him. Frayed shorts and wavy hair were just his style so she made them hers, too. Phee was a hippie-wannabe and theatre geek, but Madge wasn’t. “Life, I guess,” she answers, trying to be at least a little polite while making her way to the door just like she always does.  Her answer isn’t what Adam wants to hear, though, as it rarely is, and she can feel his eyes boring into her back.

“You know, my friends always gave me hell for dating you. I guess they were right. You were just the school slut,” he comments, voice cruel and unlike she’s ever heard it. Still, Madge has heard it before, just in different pitches and tones; she walks out the door without a pause. She doesn’t have the energy to argue with him or formulate a cutting remark, and anyway it’s hard to argue with someone when you know they’re right.