#bows and bronzer

[superficialcore]

My girls vntg Barbie tea set ‎⋆ ˚｡⋆ʚ🎀ɞ⋆ ˚｡⋆

[dietcane]

⚢ barbed wire baby - happiness is a butterfly

cw: dead dove, do not eat !!, age gap (ellie is late 30's, reader is 21), elements of domestic violence, toxic relationship, death, themes of organized crime (gangs/mafia/drug cartels), cheating, bribery, abuse (physical, drugs, alcohol), mentioned gambling, bloodplay, strap-on usage, heavy manipulation, dark!ellie, spitting, rough sex, oral sex. more to be added!!

synopsis: as the adrenaline becomes more and more overwhelming, so does the danger. stakes are higher than ever. dingy prison cells, double entendres whispered through jail phones. knowing glances exchanged with prison guards. her modern day bonnie to her clyde. your life weighs in the balance. you know ellie has pull inside and out. you have to decide if you're willing to risk everything for her. are you?

HAPPINESS IS A BUTTERFLY

song: happiness is a butterfly - lana del rey

⤷ m.list | a/n: bush ellie truther | poorly made smut ahead

Ellie was taken in on several charges. One of her many incompetent men had managed to get the FBI's charges to stick. A rat. She'd been tense for months, that uneasy, nagging feeling in her gut. A snitch. To say she was livid? An understatement. The Feds got her on petty little white-collar crimes. Money laundering? Fraud? And criminal conspiracy? Tacked on a stupid little murder-for-hire charge (sixty-seven counts? Rookie numbers.) And added some (read: twenty-two) manslaughter charges for good measure. A cherry on top. A fucking joke. Ellie is personally offended.

The damn Feds have her locked up in a pathetic little maximum prison. A handful of her men are in here. She gets cigs whenever and bitches a few of the girls who get snarky with her. In seventy-two hours, Ellie has ultimately made herself a kingpin in the prison. They fear her. Bowed their heads when they tugged her in with their too tight cuffs. Nodded at her in silent submission. Moved out of her way during rec hours. Scattered when she turned up her nose at them. Turned their backs when she came into shower. Gave her that privacy she didn't ask for. Didn't ask, but demanded for. Silently demanded. Her aura was nauseating and powerful. It was like her very presence engulfed rooms and made it tense and uncomfortably quiet.

You learn very quickly that prison is not a very favorable place. Mildewy smell clinging to the walls, irate prisoners clawing at crumbling walls, and the heavy blanket of unease settling into the very structure of the walls. It's a suffocating place, Concrete walls decorated in sharp barbed wire. Ellie managed to get herself a conjugal visit- which you don't think is allowed in maximum security prisons, but you don't question it. You know better. Even from prison, she dictates your every move. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, outings, and even your clothes. Forces her men to pick out lacy bras and panties and skimpy babydoll tops. Paired with heels that don't really match, mini skirts that are a little too tight, and bangles that clink and shine with every minuscule movement.

Today, unfortunately, you were presented with one of Ellie’s textbook-american-dream-girl-Priscilla-Presley fantasy outfits. The full get-up. The black smoky eye. White water lines. Eyeshadow dug into the creases of your eyelids. Greys and blacks and glitters. Layered over heavy bags concealed with thick layers of the latest makeup fad. Color correctors, skin tints, foundation, concealers, primers, bronzers, blush. Everything. Strategically caked on, just how Ellie likes. Not too noticeable, but not too subtle. Perky eyelashes, elongated by thick, cloying mascara, just barely tickling underneath your eyebrows (those were perfectly plucked and waxed, too.). Natural lip. Ellie hates lipstick. Despises it.

You wore it for her once. Her first birthday she ever spent with you. Laid in her bed, face heavy and glammed with a dark red lip. Body bared in lacy lingerie, all while sprawled over her bed. Pretty rose petals scattered over, dim light protruding from the scented candles meticulously placed over the dressers. When Ellie came in, she stopped and stared. Thirty seconds maybe. Walked into the bathroom. Came out with a bottle of soap and her rag. Threw it at you and walked out.

“Wipe that shit off your fuckin’ face.”

You went to bed that night alone. Bruised and cold. You had a black eye for three weeks. A Van Gogh of vibrant yellows, reds and purples fading off into nasty greens and blues. The first few days were horrible. Battered skin forming heavy eye bags, eye nearly swollen shut. She didn't sleep with you for a month. Holed herself up in her office. Couldn't stand to look at you. Forced you to eat alone. Left the room every time you walked into the same room as her. You never did it again.

Your heels are smaller than usual. The impact of your heels on the ground is dull where usually loud and magnetic. It's subtle. Like they’re a pair of baby’s-first-high-heels. The ones from magazines for teenagers, ones that are barely off the ground. Heels worn by divorced mothers and budding teenagers who are vying to be the newest heartthrob’s controversially young girlfriends- spoiler alert: Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles are definitely not into young girls, hope this helps- but you don't complain or question it. Ellie enjoys it and that's all that matters.

You feel like you’re in the wrong decade, though. Lace-trimmed slip dress, white tights, and a little baby kitten heel. There are tiny bows at the thigh of the skin-tight fabric on your legs and the crotch is cut out. Thin cotton panties underneath, though. They don't cover much. More of a scrap of fabric than a pair of panties. The ones Ellie favors- with the little heart where your most sensitive, intimate spot is. The inmates stare as your tiny little heels click and clack over the cement floors. You feel bare. Like they know you’re barely covered and ready to pounce. Your stomach roils uncomfortably.

–

Ellie’s conjugal visit room is tiny and suffocating. You don’t like it.

The walls are painted a dull gray, peeling in places where the dampness has seeped through over the years. The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, their buzzing relentless, like the hum of a broken promise. There’s a stale odor in the air, a mixture of bleach, something metallic, and the faintest trace of sweat. It’s oppressive. Every inch of the space seems to press in on you, from the small, uncomfortable couch in the corner to the tiny table that’s barely large enough to hold a glass of water. There’s nothing romantic or even remotely comforting about this place. It’s just a sterile, functional space for intimate moments that were never meant to exist here, at least not in this form.

The walls- recently painted, you note- are cracked and peeling, tearing away to reveal the layers previously there. It brings about the thought of all the others who may have experienced this room, time and time again. With every withering spec of crackling, sterile white paint, bore the stories and etchings of past visitors- all of the heavy feelings cloying to the small, boxed room. Four walls. One bed, dresser, and a depressing, tilted wardrobe. A half assed kitchen and a closed off shower, toilet and sink. Sad excuse of a bathroom. Nothing like any of Ellie’s residencies, opulent, large, and stiff.

You stand at the entrance of the room, back to the heavy steel-reinforced door. She’s wearing the prison-issued uniform—a faded, worn-out set of white, pasty scrubs that cling frustratingly good to her body. Her tattoo seems so much more stark against her skin. She looks too fucking good. She’s looking at you, but not really seeing you, eyes tearing you apart, analyzing and judging.

You don’t like it. The walls, the smell, the space itself—it’s too much. Too small. Too harsh. Too confined. It’s suffocating in a way that makes you want to claw at your skin just to feel like you can breathe again. It makes you want to scream, but you won’t. You can’t. Not here. Not in front of her.

Even though Ellie’s been in jails and prisons more times than she can count, you've never stepped foot in one until today. Bleak, scary. The walls tremble and quiver whenever the inmates throttle and thrash at their steel bars. It's a smaller size of people- a decent women's prison, but they still intimate you. The abundance of cat calls thrown at you in not even thirty seconds? Vulgar. Nasty. A little flattering, admittedly. (some girl had told you that your ass sat up better than two bunk beds? Whatever that means. You hope it's good.)

Ellie shifts, her eyes still on you, but now there’s a hint of heavy unbridled desire in her gaze. Her hands are folded in her lap, as if she’s daring for you to move, to step any closer. The silence between you stretches longer than it should. You want to reach out, to close that distance. You want to grab her hands and hold them in yours. She’s eyeing you down like a piece of meat. But something stops you. Fear? Hesitancy? You’re not sure.

“Stand up straight when you’re in front of me. Look me in the eye. Not the time to be gettin’ shy, mama.”

You comply immediately. Eyes forward, head high.

“Are you okay?” Her voice still has that edge. Faux concern.

You’re not fine. None of this is fine. The sound of the guards’ boots echoing down the hall outside, the cold metal of the door that separates you from freedom, from normalcy—it all feels so far removed from the life you shared before. There’s nowhere to go, nothing to do. The walls seem to close in tighter the longer you stay, as if the very room is swallowing you whole. But, you’re sopping wet in your panties. Just from looking at her.

Ellie watches you closely, her brows furrowing. “Answer me when I talk to you. Matter of a fact, bring your ass here.”

You stop, locking eyes with her, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “I hate it here,” you blurt before you can stop yourself.

The words hang in the air between you, raw and unfiltered. She raises her eyebrow at you before scoffing. A disappointed shake of the head. You’re embarrassed and a nasty feeling coils in your gut.

“I know,” she says, her voice curt, rough and jagged-edged. “I know. Not what I fucking asked for, though.”

There’s a lump in your throat, something that aches with all the things you want to say but can’t. You want to tell her how much you miss her, how much you want her to bend you over this sad excuse of a dining table and set you straight, or you feel like part of you left when they dragged her out in those cuffs, lost in the red and blue siren lights of it all. Most importantly? You want to tell her how bad you want her right now.

But instead, you just nod, closing the distance between you two submissively. She’s unraveling the deepest parts of you with a measly glance. You drop to your knees involuntarily, in between her legs. Your brain feels like it's starting to fizzle. She didn't even ask you to do that. It feels like second nature. Barely conscious, in between her muscled thighs, just staring up at her.

“Good little girl, hm?,” There’s yearning and arousal and desire all laced into three words. You’re dizzy.

The distance between you seems impossible to cross. None of her body is touching you. You’re so close. You can practically taste the Dove bar soap wafting off of her. She reeks of sweat and soap and cigarettes. She finally glances down at you. You moan. Loudly.

In the sterile confines of this visitation room, on your knees in stark white tights, you realize just how much you need her. Not just her strength, but the suffocating aura she has.

Ellie wasn’t just your wife. She was your protector, your guide, the force that shaped your world. She had been the one who took care of everything—made the decisions, set the tone, kept you safe, even when that meant locking away pieces of you that she didn't enjoy.

You just stared at each other—her, with that calculating gaze, the one that made everyone else tremble. And you, with your softer, more tentative yearning gaze. You had always been the one who sought her approval, the one who wanted to make her proud. But here, now, you felt exposed, unsure of where to place your hands, how to sit, what to say.

Ellie’s eyes softened just the slightest bit, and her lips curled into a small, almost imperceptible smile. “So well-behaved,” she says, her voice low but laced with a comfortable warmth.

You blinked, startled by the tenderness in her words. Her smile widened just a bit further, and you felt the tight knot in your chest loosen just a fraction. In this cold, unforgiving space, her affection was like a lifeline, one you had been starved of for far too long. Seventy-two hours? Far too much

“Only for you,” you warble, trying to keep your voice steady. The words came out quieter than you meant them to.

Ellie lets out a breathy chuckle, a subtle exhale of her chest, as if she was dismissing the statement with the same frustrating nonchalance she had always carried. “I’ve just got you under my thumb, don't I?,” she said, but you could hear the faintest trace of something underneath her words—a hint of arrogance, of being proud, almost. It wasn’t rare for Ellie to let that possessive, sick part of herself slip, but it still whisked the air from your lungs all the same. Every single time.

Your eyes flickered to the guards standing nearby. One of them was watching you, his gaze sharp, but Ellie made a quick, subtle motion, and he stepped back. The other guard, who had been leaning against the wall, followed suit, leaving you both alone in the small space. The air shifted once more, and though the glass still separated you, it felt less like a barrier and more like a reminder of the limits placed on both of you.

Ellie leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I’ve missed you, sweetheart. And that pretty little mouth of yours.”

Those words, the ones you had waited days to hear, hit you harder than expected. You had imagined this moment a thousand times—what you would say, how you would feel. But the reality of it, of seeing her sitting there, sitting in the middle of a conjugal visit room, yet still so her, caught you off guard.

“Please,” you mumble, your voice catching. You didn’t care that you were being vulnerable. In this moment, you didn’t care about anything except the need to be close to her. “Just want to be good for you. Please, momm- miss- uhm- sorry.”

Ellie’s face softened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she reached out—slowly, deliberately—placing her palm flat against the top of your head.

“I know,” she said, her voice huskier now, tinged with something that wasn’t power, wasn’t business, but something else. Something more carnal. “I know you do, baby. You wanna show me?”

You nodded, swallowing down the lump that had formed in your throat. Ellie’s eyes drifted to the side for a brief moment, and when she spoke again, her tone shifted- something more animalistic. “You dressed in those cute little bottoms I like?”

You nodded again, your heart swelling in your chest. You knew Ellie. She liked familiarity. Control. Power. Nostalgia, maybe.

Ellie pulled her hand back from the top of your head, but her gaze remained fixed on yours. “Take this shit off. The dress, the tights, whatever you got on underneath. Leave the heels on.”

Her words were firm, commanding. Demanding silent obedience. She got it, extremely quick. Stumbling over shaky legs, tugging at straps and waistbands, nearly tripping over yourself. Trembling hands lacing straps of heels off and back on again. Clothes laid in a pile beside you. Completely bare.

Your nipples pebbled at the cold. Almost naked as the day you were born- except for the kitten heels. Ellie was staring at them, so you hoped they were cute enough for her.

Ellie’s eyes softened again, the edges of her mouth curving upward into the faintest of smirks. She looked away for a moment, and when she returned her gaze to you.

She stood slowly, thumbs pressed into the waistband of the prison scrubs. She backed up on steady feet until she met the foot of the bed, pulling them down all the way until they pooled at her feet. She unbuttoned the top painfully slow, tattooed fingers intricately tugging at each button with finessed seduction. It's easy for her. To get you going.

Like it's second nature, you kneel between her manspread thighs. A practiced dance between two souls, intertwined and carved into each other. Her hand tangles into the back of your head, pulling you closer to her boxers, fabric dampening by the minute. All you can smell is her.

Your nose brushes against her and you hear her breath hitch. Her eyes are boring into you. Your gazes meet as her hand forces you even further into her.

She’s suffocating you.

You struggle. Thrashing in her hold. She’s way stronger than she looks. The fabric of your panties dampens even more. Pathetic.

Somewhere in your lightheaded daze, her fingers dug into your scalp and tugged you back. Her hands frenzied as she tries to pull off her boxers, just far enough to let you get close.

Barely conscious, face first into the unruly auburn curls beneath her pubic bone. Leg propped onto your shoulder, spread to accommodate you.

She tastes so *fucking* good.

Ellie is rough and particular in the way she likes things done. Eye contact. No hands. Use your nose.

Your tongue flicks at her heavy, protruding clit, peeking through the mess of sopping wet curls. She pulls your head back, glances down at you, and spits. A fat glob dripping down your lips, before shoving you back in.

Your lips latch around the over-sensitive bundle of nerves there, sucking and lightly dragging the bottom of your front teeth as you suck her in. Ellie’s leg jerks from where it’s resting on your shoulder and you’re rewarded with a breathy noise.

Her cheeks are flushed and her head is thrown back. Beads of sweat trickle down her throat and down the crevice and valley between her tits and into the divots of her defined stomach.

You want to lick it off so bad.

She glances down at you and pulls you away again. A sharp smack against your cheek. Fingers prodding at your mouth. She forcefully pulls your tongue out as far as it can go.

Not even a breath is granted before you’re tangled into her again, not even freely moving your tongue, just staring up at her desperately as she takes what she wants. As she uses you. Works you up to the top of your peak, just from being of service to her. Making her feel good.

Your soaked panties drags against the hardwood floors, leaving a slick of arousal behind. You’re not concerned with your own release, only Ellie’s. She’s close. You can taste it.

“So fucking pathetic. But- *shit*- you’re good for somethin’. Being so obedient and pretty.”

A flood of sickly sweet arousal coating your mouth, nose, and practically your entire face. She’s all you can process. Ellie. How she tastes. How she looks when she’s close. How she sounds when you do something she likes. All engraved into your hot wiring. Like you’re a robot waiting for her every command. A robot that doesn't even think of autonomy.

Why would you need autonomy anyway? She makes every single decision for you. No need to *think*.

-

once again, not proofread, ever. xoxo

- jadieee

taglist !! @bambiaches @mabermaple @starrdelight @vahnilla @elliesfavtoy @sulliefimmie @oneinamelian @eriiwarii2 @azteriarizz

cmnt to be added / removed !!

[immortalmrwavell]

A Worthy Replacement - Epilogue

(Original story posted… hold on… this one is brand new!)

Written for @bodyswappingandshit/@bodyswappingandshit-1

This epilogue has been a looooong time coming. I intended to write it way back after the original three parts were posted but I never got around to it. So with these uploads I thought what better time to do it now that the story was fresh in my mind! Not to mention I haven’t written a new story from scratch since around August 2024 so it was a nice little project. Hope everyone that enjoyed the rest of the story will continue to enjoy this final piece of the story to wrap everything up in a bow ❤️

Read Part 1 Here! Read Part 2 Here! Read Part 3 here!

Martin was backstage, pacing back and forth while wearing nothing but a pair of tight black posing briefs that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The entirety of his enormous frame was on full display. He’d already been sprayed up and down with bronzer that left his muscles looking even shinier and more defined than ever. He was a living Adonis of a man. He knew that. It was the reality he’d come to love over these last 6 months since having been lucky enough to receive this gorgeous body and life. Yet despite that he couldn’t help but feel the nerves creeping in.

The last couple of days had been a whirlwind. Thanks to his previous champion titles as Mr Olympia, Martin was automatically qualified to participate. Before that though he made sure to trim his beard down to the iconic mustache Chris had worn every year since his first win, a tradition Martin planned to uphold. He’d been through the official height/weight check ins for the competition and had met all the other participating athletes along the way. All of them eager to meet the one and only Chris Bumstead. Martin was just as thrilled to meet all these other handsome hunky men while effortlessly exuding the kind gentle giant attitude Chris naturally wore. From there he took plenty of photos for his socials and received his number for the show. He’d been through the prejudging show where he and other competitors hit all the mandatory poses for the judges so that they could be ranked. Only the top 6 got to compete in the finals. Of course Martin made it through and now the finals competition was only minutes away.

He could already hear the crowd of people outside chattering away. All of them were eager to watch a bunch of hunks get up on stage and show just how god-like they are. And the very hunks those people were excited to see were standing around him now, all backstage and preparing themselves for the competition ahead. All of them look like man-made perfection. And yet despite that, most of them were stealing glances at Martin! Some out of admiration, some out of jealousy and others out of intimidation. Then again it was no surprise these men felt threatened by him. After all Martin was none other than the three time Classic Physique Mr Olympia, Chris Bumstead!

“Come on… I can do this.” Martin muttered to himself. “I know all the moves. Practiced them a hundred times.” He took a deep breath, placing his hands on his hips as he looked up towards the ceiling. His meaty pecs rose and fell with each anxious breath as he went over the routine again in his head. In all honesty this was probably the first time Martin had felt nervous about anything since he became Chris. Of course there had been small things, especially in the early days when he was still adjusting to his new life as a famous stud, but overall he’s had a sense of natural confidence that’s kept him steady. Until now.

“You alright brother?” A familiar voice came from behind. Martin turned to see none other than his brother in law Iain. “Pre-show nerves kicking in at last?” He asked half jokingly as he strolled up.

Martin flashed Iain a shaky smile. “That obvious?”

Iain had been a pillar for Martin over these last few weeks. Sure Martin might’ve absorbed the essence of Chris Bumstead but the strain this prep for the Olympia had put on him both physically and mentally had been one of the biggest challenges of his life. If it hadn’t been for Iain encouraging him along every step of the way, Martin didn’t think he would’ve got this far. It was only because of him that Martin now had the chance to really prove to himself that he was a worthy replacement.

Iain did a good job at calming Martin down and reminding him of all the hard work he’d put in to get here. Reassuring Martin that he looked even more insane than he did last year and that he was gonna blow everyone away just like he had every time before. It helped of course but Martin still couldn’t shake the nerves completely. Who the hell could? He could tell from his memories that even the original Chris had felt this way almost every time. Only for Martin there was the added layer that this would be his first real olympia that wasn’t just an absorbed memory.

“Just breathe.” Iain said. “Everyone out there is going to love you. And they love you because you’re the best. Not just as a bodybuilder and a champion, but as a man.” It was almost strange for Martin to hear Iain sound so sentimental. He was usually the rough manly man type who’d rather shout his words of encouragement but if anything gentleness of Iain’s managed to hit even harder. “You’ll do amazing brother.”

Martin didn’t think he’d ever been more attracted to Iain than he was in that moment. He wanted nothing more than to cup Iain’s gorgeous face in his hands and press their lips together. Martin had fantasised about it many times but right now the longing to take the man before him in a loving embrace was more powerful than it had ever been. His hands shook slightly at his sides as he imagined it so vividly… but like always Martin held himself back. He knew it couldn’t be. Iain was his straight brother in law, married to Chris’ sister. So instead Martin smiled towards Iain like he always did, burying his feelings yet again…

———

The crowd exploded into a roar of cheers and excitement when Martin walked on stage alongside the other men. Already he could hear some people chanting his nickname “Cbum”. He grinned large and wide as he waved to the crowd, portraying a vision of unwavering confidence despite his inner doubts.

And just like that, the finals were underway.

The hot glimmering lighting shone down on Martin as he hit each and every of the mandatory poses. He began with the iconic front double biceps followed by a strong side chest that emphasised just how god-like his physique was. Martin then turned on his heel, facing away from the audience and judges as he hit the back double biceps where he made sure to show off the incredible definition in his glutes, hamstrings and his back itself. After which he turned to face front again before hitting an effortless vacuum by contracting his abdominals while spreading his legs and putting his gigantic quads on full display. And finally he was able to hit a pose of his choice and Martin had long since decided what it would be. He shifted his stance a little before tossing his left arm up into a strong flex while lifting his right arm and placing that hand behind his head to make for a breathtaking display.

Despite the anxiety thumping in his chest, Martin couldn't help but feel exhilarated at the same time. Seeing all those adoring eyes watching him and scanning his body. It left Martin with a complex mix of emotions that were difficult to even put into words. Yet he smiled on as the judges closely analysed his body during the act. Scanning his form, its proportions and symmetry while noting his perfect execution of every pose. He’d left an impression he knew that much but that was a given considering who he was. And as soon as his act finished, Martin placed his hands together and bowed slightly as the crowd gave him a thunderous applause.

The rest of the finalists each had their turns to go through the mandatory poses and a pose of their choice. Each athlete gave it their all but as usual ‘Chris Bumstead’ was a hard act to follow. Martin watched on as he caught his breath, proud of the performance he’d put in so far but he knew there was more to come yet.

It wasn’t long before all 6 finalists were called back on stage for the Pose-Down. They all stood equal parts away from each other with Martin being near the centre of the stage before music erupted from the speakers. Now was the time for each athlete to go completely freestyle. They had about a minute and half where they were allowed to move across the stage and hit any pose they wanted! Martin had already for this and the second that music came on his body practically kicked into auto pilot as he cycled through some of his best poses. Making sure to hide his weaker points while emphasising his strengths. All the while trying his best to exude as much confidence and charisma as possible on stage in an effort to outshine all his fellow competitors. They were all great guys but at the end of the day Martin was here to prove his worthiness of the title he’d inherited.

The Pose-Down felt as though it lasted an eternity but eventually the music began to fade as the last act came to a close. Martin and the other competitors were asked to stand in a tight line up together as the judges came to their decisions. Martin tried his best to portray a look of pure stoicism but a creeping sense of nervousness couldn’t help shining through. This was the moment of truth. Either he’d leave this stage with a gold medal or he’d have to face the fact that perhaps Mr Wavell was wrong about him. It was a high bar but Martin was holding himself to it. He had to win.

And so after some discussion with the judges, the announcer began to call each placing along. First was of course 5th place and 4th place after that. Each name that was called received a hefty round of applause no matter which place they were in along with congrats from each of the other bodybuilders. But the name “Chris Bumstead” had yet to be called. 3rd place was then announced and once again it wasn’t Martin, leaving him in the final two. He made sure to clap for 3rd place just as he had for the others before, knowing just how hard they’d all worked to get this far. At the same time it felt as though his heart was going to explode under the tension of what was to come next.

There was a long pause after that. Martin rocked on the spot a little, struggling to stay still as he tried to take slow and steady breaths to calm himself. And that’s when it happened. The announcer's voice filled the room as he spoke the name of the man in 2nd place and… it wasn’t him. Martin’s eyes widened with the realisation as his hands moved to cover his face in shock.

“…Which can only mean that this years four time Classic Physique Mr Olympia Champion is CHRIS BUMSTEAD!!!” The announcer boomed and the crowd exploded with the most life it’d had all day. People stood up from their seats to clap and cheer as cameras began flashing wildly to capture the moment.

Martin was still trying to process it all as they handed him the trophy. He was grinning ear to ear with joy and relief, so much so that he could cry. Before long he was bending forwards as the gold 1st place medal was draped around his neck and just like that it was official. He won. Camera began flashing again as Martin absorbed the scene around him, committing each and every detail to memory. He never wanted to forget this for as long as he lived. He took a deep breath and smiled as he raised four fingers to symbolise the fourth win of what was now truly his career.

After the initial applause, Martin was handed a microphone by the announcer. It was time for his winning speech.

Martin took the moment to do what any humble champion would do. He thanked his friends and family for helping him get all this way. He thanked everyone across the world who has supported him up to this point. He thanked his teams that’d helped him along the journey of crafting his body and even made sure to give a special thanks to the man himself Iain Valliere who was in the front row of the crowd. He talked about all the hardship he endured to get to this point and the struggles he’s had along the way before complimenting his fellow athletes on the incredible competition they brought today. And he could’ve ended it there. But there was one last thing Martin knew he had to announce. He’d kept it to himself until now but where better to announce it to the world than right here on stage.

“There was also one last thing I wanted to say while I’m up here.” Martin began, heart still racing. “It’s something I’ve wrestled with for a long time and until now I’d struggled to pluck up the courage to say it out loud. But now… I think it’s finally time.” There was a pause where Martin took a long breath before continuing. “I… am gay. And I have been my whole life.” With that the crowd fell completely silent for a moment at the revelation. “I’ve wanted to come out for so long but I was afraid of not being accepted. But I’m not afraid anymore. I, Chris Bumstead, stand here today as a proud gay man!” The crowd remained quiet for another moment but it didn’t take long for a few to begin clapping. Then more and more until the entire audience was cheering him on. Martin couldn’t help but give them all a giddy smile before flexing his free arm in a powerful pose. He could see the headline already.

Moments after Martin passed the microphone back to the announcer however, everything around him seemed to cease. The people in the crowd and on stage all froze in place as all sound seemed to disappear. The colour seemed to drain from the world around him until everything was black and white. His head swung around in every direction, not knowing what the hell was going on. It was as though the world around him had just… stopped. Like time itself had come to a grinding halt and he was the only one who could perceive it.

And then came the sound of footsteps. Martin’s gaze darted all around to find the source until his eyes settled on a single man who came strolling in from the backstage.

Mr Wavell.

“Bravo. Bravo.” Wavell said with a faint smile as he ascended the steps to join Martin up on stage. He was the only thing in the room besides Martin that still had colour. That fact only seemed to make the deep emerald hue of the warlock’s jacket stand out all the more, further elevating the man’s effortless elegance.

“Y-you’re him. That wizard Mr Wavell! W-what did you do to them??” Martin questioned rather frantically as the well dressed man continued to approach.

“Don’t worry about them. I just froze time around us, that’s all. I wanted a moment to congratulate you myself on this wondrous achievement.” Wavell moved slow and casual until he stood right before Martin. Of course Martin’s massive body towered over Wavell and yet the sheer pressure this suited man gave off was so overwhelming that it made Martin feel minuscule in his presence. “You proved not only to me but the entire world that my magic was right to choose you to be the successor to the original Chris Bumstead.” Wavell reached up and removed his sunglasses, folding them before slipping them into his jacket pocket. “You’ve taken his life and made it your own. And with this win, you really can call yourself Mr Olympia.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.” Martin stuttered. “Thank you. Thank you so much. Getting to be Chris these past 6 months has been the greatest time of my life. I’ve never felt so happy or accomplished. So fulfilled. Not to mention adored. And I never would’ve had any of this if it weren’t for you.”

Wavell raised a hand. “No need for thanks. This gift was just as much for my pleasure as it was yours. Getting to see you transform on that first day was a treat in itself. Seeing you explode with muscle and fill out those clothes right after getting high on those musky sneakers you stole. What a naughty boy.” Wavell tutted with a devious grin that caused Martin to blush.

“You uhhh… you saw that?” Martin asked with a nervous chuckle.

“I’ve seen everything.” Wavell answered, causing Martin to go even redder than before. “But there’s no need to be embarrassed. After all, I'm not exactly a good boy half the time either. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t visited your house once or twice while you weren’t home. Maybe had a dig through your sweaty laundry a couple times… among other things. And I can’t promise I won’t do it again. After all… those smelly sneakers of yours really are addictive.” Wavell said with a wink.

Martin’s mouth ran dry, not knowing how to respond. All he knew was that he was turned on like hell right now and that his cock was pressing hard against his posing briefs.

“But that’s not what I’m here to talk about. Instead I wanted to offer you another gift. Think of it as another reward for winning the Olympia.” Wavell said, eyes wandering up and down Martin’s glorious form.

“A-a gift?! What else could you give me?? You’ve practically given me everything I could’ve ever wished for!” Martin gestured down at the very body Wavell was currently eye fucking before grabbing the heavy gold medal draped over his chest and shaking it.

Wavell lifted an eyebrow. “Well. There is still one thing you’ve been wishing for… isn’t there? I’ve been watching you remember. I’ve seen the way you’ve taken charge of this life. I’ve watched as you forced the original Chris into mindless servitude as your underwear…” Wavell paused, allowing for the gears to turn in Martin’s head. Wavell then turned in the heel of his shoe to face the audience. Or rather one audience member in particular. “And I’ve also seen the way you gwauk at him every chance you get, always knowing you can’t have him.” Wavell continued, staring directly at none other than Iain Valliere as he stood frozen and monotone in the crowd like everyone else. “But what if you could…”

“Wait… what’re you saying?” Martin asked as his brain began to process what Wavell was offering him.

“I’m saying I could make him yours.” Wavell answered bluntly. “A little reality warping so that he was never in a relationship with your new sister. Altering the fabric of his soul along with his brain chemistry to make him so unequivocally gay that he’ll almost always have cock on his mind. And of course I’ll make him completely and utterly love stricken by you.” The warlock turned to look at Martin again. “If that’s what you’d like anyway.”

“Yes! I want it!” Martin’s mouth moved before he had a chance to think. The thought of what Wavell was proposing was just too incredible to miss! However the warlock’s blank expression quickly reminded Martin of his manners. “I-I mean… please. Mr Wavell sir. I would give anything to have Iain.”

Wavell’s expression softened once more. “Then it shall be.” And without another word a purple aura of sparkling magic flared up around Wavell’s body just like it had all those months ago when he changed reality to make ‘Chris Bumstead’ a single man. And like before a powerful pulse of magical energy surged outwards from his body and swiftly stretched across the planet. “There. Iain Valliere is no longer your brother in law. Now he’s just a single man who you met many years ago and ended up becoming close gym bros with. Best friends even.” Wavell licked his lips slightly as he outstretched a hand in Iain’s direction. “Now for part two.” A stream of pure purple magic flowed from Wavell’s palm and wrapped itself around Iain’s head. The magic began reaching inside Iain’s mind and soul before plucking out any straight thoughts of women. Instead replacing them with deeply homosexual desires for other men and a crippling obsession with cock. And after a couple memory alterations, it was done. “All finished.” Wavell quipped as the purple magic retreated back inside his body.

Martin blinked with amazement. “Really? You mean Iain I can actually-”

“Fuck each other raw? Yes.” Wavell said before Martin could even finish.

“Well I was just ‘be together’ but that works too.”

The warlock couldn’t help but hum with amusement. He turned back fully to Martin, taking a few extra steps to close what little distance there was left between them until he was inches away from Martin’s melon sized pecs. “In all seriousness though, keep enjoying this life. Savour every moment of it. Because I truly do believe that you were always destined to have this body. To be Chris Bumstead. So never doubt the man that you’ve become.”

“I won’t.” Martin said honestly. “And thank you again.”

“You can thank me by having some hot sweaty sex with that other handsome hunk over there.” Wavell smirked, gesturing towards Iain. “Trust me, I’ll be watching.” With that he raised his fingers up, ready to snap. “And don’t worry, you’ll be seeing me again Chris Bumstead. And when you do I expect to be caught in a steamy threesome between you and your soon to be lover.”

And then he snapped.

In an instant, life returned to the world around Martin. Colour and sound filled his senses once more as the crowd continued to move and cheer as if nothing had happened. The other athletes continued clapping for Martin in his victory as the camaras started flashing once more. And Mr Wavell was nowhere to be seen.

“CHRIS BUMSTEAD EVERYBODYYYYY!!!” The announcer shouted into the microphone causing everyone in the crowd to roar even louder. Well everyone except one. Iain who suddenly seemed rather dazed as he shook his head a little.

Martin couldn’t help but give the people a few final victory poses. Flexing his perfect body yet again and getting those muscles to bulge into action once more. Powerful veins snaking up and down his arms as his biceps peaked. At long last his nerves over this year’s competition had vanished, replaced by nothing but euphoria. And that feeling only grew when his eyes caught Iain’s and immediately he saw something in the other man that hadn’t been there before. Lust.

Eventually Martin finds himself walking off stage along with the other athletes as the camera men and women all scramble to get extra few pictures of the hunks as they leave. Pushing his way through them all however was none other than the hulking Iain Valliere. Staff had initially moved to stop him until they saw the lanyard around his neck showing that he was allowed backstage with the competitors. He made his way through them all and managed to reach Martin just before he disappeared out of sight.

“Chris!” Iain shouted desperately. “There’s something I have to tell you. I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time but I haven’t had the courage to say it until now.” He confessed, thick hands grabbing Martin by the biceps.

Martin already had an idea as to what this was but he couldn’t help sweating a little as he glanced around at all the cameras watching them. “O-okay… but can’t it wait until we’re backstage?” Martin asked.

“No. I want the world to see this.” Iain stated boldly before taking Martin’s hand in his own. “Chris. I’ve been in love with you for years. I can’t remember how or when it happened but I just know that I’ve fallen for you so fuckin deeply that it hurts. But I didn’t think you’d ever look at me the same. I thought you were… straight. But after what you said up there I don’t think I could’ve held it back any longer.” He paused for a moment, shuffling on the spot before planting his feet firmly and looking Martin square in the eyes. “Chris. I love you.”

“Iain I…” Martin stuttered. The people around them that’d heard what Iain said looked on in complete shock. Even the cameras around them seemed to lower for a second as the people behind tried to process what was happening right now. But Martin didn’t care about them. He hadn’t planned on doing this so quickly, he’d hardly had a chance to get off stage yet, but it seemed Wavell’s miracle was a potent one. So why the hell not. “Iain. I love you too.” And every word was true.

With that Iain’s whole face seemed to light up as moments before Martin cupped it in his hands and closed the distance between them with a passionate kiss. The very kiss Martin had been fantasising about since the very moment he'd set eyes on Iain. And it was every bit as magical as he’d imagined. Their mouths remained interlocked as the cameras tilted back up and began shooting in a race to capture the best angle for this moment. Not to mention the crew who’d been filming the live stream of the event were still rolling and now had their sights fully trained on Martin and Iain, broadcasting the kiss to the world.

Everyone watching was stunned. Most fans of Chris Bumstead, at least in this altered reality, had known him and Iain to have been best friends for the longest time. Always posting on social media and appearing at events together. Nobody would have guessed that this was where it was all heading though! Besides maybe a few horny fans who’d wished upon it but even they were surprised to see their dreams come true! Iain and Chris were in love!

After making such a spectacle of it, the pair finally separated from their kiss. Iain looked up at Martin with a flushed expression that looked adorable on his rugged manly face. Iain wrapped his arms around Martin in a strong hug before the latter could say a word, not caring about the bronzer that would inevitably rub off Martin’s body and onto Iain’s clothes. With a content smile Martin reciprocated the hug. At last he could say that he had absolutely everything he could have wished for. A perfect body, an incredible life and a gorgeous new boyfriend he was already planning to marry someday.

———

Before long Iain and Martin were backstage together, hardly separable as Martin sipped on a bottle of water. Iain had checked his phone to see the news stories were already popping up. Both about Martin’s win and the kiss the two of them had shared. No doubt that was going to stir up a frenzy for a while.

“I still can’t believe you did that in front of all those cameras. You know that’s going to be one of the only things people are going to have on their minds at the interviews and press conference later right?” Martin chuckled.

Iain laughed heartily at the thought. “Of course. That was the point. I needed everyone to know.”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “And what if I’d turned you down back there?”

“I knew that wouldn’t happen.” Iain claimed, budging his thick muscled body even closer to Martin’s own colossal frame. “It was like I had this… epiphany after your speech. I can’t explain it. I just knew it was the right thing to do.”

Martin leaned in and gave Iain another peck on the lips. “Well I’m glad.”

Iain snuggled closer to Martin, holding him in another embrace. “And if our little moment does end up overshadowing you win later…” He began before slowing his voice to whisper against Martin’s ear. “… I’ll make it up to you tonight by sucking that champion cock and swallowing your winning load.”

Martin’s breath hitched at that, a tingle running up his spin. His dick twitched rather strongly at the thought. With that on his mind he already knew it was going to be harder than ever to keep his dick under control. Moments after he found himself using Iain as a shield so nobody else around the backstage could see the growing bulge in his briefs. He blamed Iain for it of course but the other man didn’t seem all too regretful.

But with that, Martin’s story was complete. Thanks to Mr Wavell he got everything he ever wanted and more. But that didn’t mean it was over. Not at all. This was only the first of many fruits his new existence would grant him. He couldn’t wait to explore everything else this new life had to offer him. Just as much as he couldn’t wait to explore Iain’s muscle ass with his dick. Something he knew he’d have the opportunity to do again and again and again. And he was going to love every damn second.

[saintfelina]

Sex Kitten Makeup

Who doesn’t want to look like a kitten? Pouty, mysterious and effortlessly cool? The look is all about killer eyes, rounded lips and a devious smirk. There's a delicate balance you have to strike--can't be too cute, but can't be too harsh either. Here's how you get it.

Base

Let the skin peak through, lean towards a satiny finish with a skin tint or a light/med coverage foundation stick. Ideally under eyes are bare to let the dark circles peak through, but adding concealer is fine too.

Face

Blush should be lightly applied, but ideally a soft berry or pink color. Don’t “snatch” the face but apply on the fullness of the cheeks. Remember we aren't going seductive wild cat, but mischievous and sweet kitten.

Brows

Keep the brows thin, bonus point's if they're lightened. They don't have to be bleached blonde but should be your skin tone or lighter. If you have that cherry cola hair color, use Nyx Powder Louder Brow Pencil in Black Cherry. Fill them in to be straighter with a slight arch for that slightly surprised and devious look.

Eyes

While its tempting to darken the whole eye and do a sharp wing if you want a real kittenish look, avoid completely closing up the upper and lower lash, instead darken the inner corner (keep it rounded not sharp) and thicken the outer corner for a shorter, sharp wing, if you have round eyes make top of the wing slightly downturned before flicking upward. When lining the lower lash line, keep it under the lashes. Mascara and lashes should be primarily applied to the outer corner. Urban Decay 24/7 Glide on Liner in Perversion is best for a super dark and creamy liner. If you want to dress it up more, apply a brown shadow or a bronzer to the crease.

Lips

Outline your lips with a grey or cool brown liner, (Mac Stone or Chestnut) focus mostly on the cupids bow and really define it. Don’t completely round the top lip. When lining the bottom lip keep it softer. Fill in the lips with a nude close to your skin tone (Essence 8H Matte Liquid Lipstick in Silky Hazelnut). If you want a darker lip, use a berry or black liner ( Mac Caviar or Nightmoth) and follow the same steps above, then fill in with a blotted berry/plum color or a greyish-brown gloss like Mac Bittersweet Me.

[bueckersbitch]

Grace and Grit - paige bueckers x oc

chapter four: so high school

𐙚 grace and grit masterlist

𐙚 characters: hopkins!paige x oc

𐙚 warnings: none!

𐙚 word count: 2.4k

𐙚 authors note: here it is!! long awaited and i’m so sorry i haven’t put out a new chapter, life caught up to me unfortunately. anyway in this au larkin dance studio is in hopkins and jalen goes to school with paige. this is all fiction!!! enjoy <3

𐙚 taglist: @rosemariiaa @thaatdigitaldiary @pboogerswbb @sierrale8ne @lupinqs @xxloveralways14 @vamptizm @bueckersfive @lovegalor333 @d3arapril @mrsarnold @janaelalfysblunt

The consistent hum of Blaire’s alarm woke her from dreamland. Her last first day. One more year, then she wouldn’t have to step foot in her confining high school ever again.

Blaire brings her hands up to rub her eyes, trying to exude sleep from herself. After failed attempts to wake her up, defeated, Blaire gets up slowly, trudging her way over to her vanity. Sitting down in the pink padded chair. Her seventeen years of dance experience had trained her makeup skills, the requirement of knowing how to do a full face in less than ten minutes was something she had to learn how to do on her own. While her dance friends sat restless in front of their moms at the ripe age of eight, getting their makeup done and being gushed over, Blaire simply watched, longed, and yearned for that experience that was stripped away from her. But she was never one to complain, so she did it on her own, learning how to contour, winged eyeliner, and apply false lashes all by the time she was nine.

Blaire turned her vanity mirror light on, the soft white illuminating her puffy face. She reached for her skincare, the coolness of the serums and moisturizers working to depuff her face. Swiping on some concealer, bronzer, blush, and mascara, was all Blaire could bring herself to do. Shoving herself up from her vanity, she goes to brush her teeth, breakfast in the morning makes her sick. The fresh mint hit her teeth, a slow moment finally found after a rushed morning, but when her mind slowed, she could only think of one thing, well, one person, Paige.

She recalled that night in the ice cream shop, a small gesture, sure. But Blaire had never experienced someone so interested in her before. Everything was perfect, like everything Blaire had been waiting for in a girlfriend was presented to her in a beautiful, bubbly, blonde, package. Blaire tried to focus on the task at hand, she really did. But something about the thought of the way Paige’s eyes scrunched up when she smiled, and the way her cheeks showed a tinge of pink whenever she looked at Blaire, was enough for Blaire to lose track of time. Glancing at the clock, Blaire was now off schedule, running late by three minutes. She quickly spits into the sink, swishing mouthwash into her mouth before expelling that from her mouth as well.

Blaire stumbles on her rug, grabbing onto the door frame as she drives herself into her closet. Regaining her balance, she flicks the light on. Pink bow wallpaper adorns the four walls. She reaches for the outfit she had picked out last night, black flare leggings, a white tank top, a light grey shrug, and a black headband. Boring, maybe, but Blaire couldn’t really care less what people thought of her outfit.

Blaire slid on her shrug, the last piece of her outfit. Realizing she had a bit of down time before she had to leave, she wonders if she should peek at Paige’s socials, something she had been doing a bit too much recently. It’s almost as if her fingers have a mind of their own, skidding across the screen to pull up Paige’s profile before she could even finish her thought.

She studied her profile. In a way, it almost exactly mirrored Blaire’s. A different sport, of course. But the posts wishing her friends happy birthday, photos from past state championships, the trophy being held up to the sky, ones where her and her teammates are biting their medals. Blaire knew the feeling all too well. It was just an instagram profile, but the memories of Paige’s time in high school flood her phone. It was sweet, the way she looked so intimidating on the court, her taunts cracking the confidence of her opponents, all for her to really just be a normal girl going through high school.

—

It was the end of fifth period now, Blaire’s AP Chemistry class ending with her teacher wishing them a good rest of their first day. It was lunch period now, all of Blaire’s friends either had schedules that let them out early, or a different lunch period. Blaire scratched her scalp, a consistent throbbing settling into the rear of her head. Continual reviews of class syllabi meant her teachers repeating the same rules like a mantra, late work policies, honor code, extra credit assignments, and test outlines were all things Blaire had grown bored of. Sighing, she hops down from the stool, picking up her Larkin Dance Studio backpack, the thread at the straps fraying from being her companion the last three years. Blaire stilled, the air around her restricting her, but also allowing her a chance to breathe. She moves one ugg clad foot in front of the other, making her way to the door, annunciating a quick “Have a good day Mr. Stone.” with a smile, pushing the door handle and stepping out into the hallway.

It was overwhelming, really. Looking out into the hallway. Blaire had navigated these hallways more times than she could count, but something about the masses of people bumping into each other, clueless as to where they were going, hurdled her anxiety into overdrive. All she needed to do was walk herself to her car, where she would eat her lunch, after, she had two more periods. Almost to the finish line, the wiring of school could be erased from her mind when she stepped back into her studio, being able to regain her consciousness.

Blaire gripped her phone in her hands tightly, her earbuds in her ears as an attempt to drown out the surrounding noise. It was no use though, the shrieking of high pitched voices cut through her soft music like nails on a chalkboard. In the midst of all the chaos, Blaire swears she hears her name called out. Glancing around, she’s met with nothing but bodies of teenagers. Brushing it off, Blaire keeps moving, shuffling slowly towards the doors that lead out to the parking lot.

Blaire feels a tug at her shoulder, yanking her earbuds out from her ears, turning to see what the fuss was about. Instead, she’s met with the smile and scrunched eyes she had been musing about in the earliest hours of the day. Paige and Blaire’s schedules had matched up for one period so far, study hall. Now, it seems that they had lunch together too.”Blaire! Who are you sitting with at lunch?” A curious Paige asked, Jalen poking her arm, ushering her towards a clear path to the doors. “I was just planning on sitting in my car, all my friends have different lunches.” Blaire responded with. Before she could register what was happening, she felt the comforting warmth of Paige’s fingers wrapping around hers, subtly dragging her along with herself and Jalen, while saying, “S’You’re sitting with us in my car now.” Blaire couldn’t help the soft smile that wound up on her face, her cheeks heating up at the kind gesture by the girl, something that hadn’t happened since their study hall during third period.

The three of them walked together to Paige’s car, Jalen walking backwards in front of them to talk to the two girls. “Soooooo… You’re Blaire, right?” He started. Paige groaned, trying to shut him down with a, “Jalen, bro.” while her hand ran over her face. Blaire observed the two, she knew what it meant, Jalen, Paige’s best friend, knowing who she was. Blaire pushed the thoughts of her heart gushing to the back of her mind, trying to focus on not messing up first impressions.

“The one and only, and you’re Jalen?” Paige’s eyes peek from in between her fingers, widened at the fact Blaire wasn’t weirded out by the prodding. Blaire wasn’t weirded out, in fact, she was overjoyed by the fact she seemed important enough to Paige to be mentioned to her closest friend. The boy smiles, his hands in his pockets, “Sure am, hear you’re a dancer. You tryna do that in college?” Blaire nods, “God Willing, something about Juilliard is calling me, but it’s nice to know I have U of Minny and Ohio State as cushion if that plan falls through.” Jalen’s mouth drops open at that, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, “Damn, so you’re like, good good, then?” Paige smiles, wrapping an arm around Blaire, patting her head with the other, “Hey! I told you she was good. You doubting me is disrespectful.” The blonde says. Blaire shrugs, slightly surprised by the fact Jalen even knows how major of a deal both colleges are. “You could say that. How do you know about dance anyway?” Jalen responds without a beat, “I got sisters, they don’t dance but they like watching uda nationals.” Blaire smiles, it seemed being welcoming was something prominent found in Paige’s friends too.

As they got to Paige’s car, Jalen started to swing around to the passenger side, a routine perfected since Paige got her license. He whips his head around though, the blonde pointing at him saying, “Jalen, you’re sitting in the back.” Jalen’s face showed confusion, Blaire didn’t want to intrude, so she tugs at Paige’s shirt, “Hey, I can sit in the back, it’s okay.” She assured. Paige let out a laugh at that, an obvious fake one, “collecting” herself, she turns to Blaire, telling her, “You gotta be crazy, what kinda host would I be if I didn’t let you sit in the passenger seat?” Blaire scoffs, but under the front she put up, she liked the fact Paige was so persistent with her, really liked it. “Host? It’s your car.” Blaire said with a playful attitude. Paige cocks her head, “Whatever.” She says to the dark haired girl.

“Ooo, P’s got a crushhhh.” Jalen gets out, the two girls' eyes break away from each other, pulling to look at the boy waiting outside the back car door. “Seriously, stop.” Paige says, annoyed.

–

The loudspeaker starts up, it was eighth period, Paige sat clad in her Nike shirt and basketball shorts, Playing with the loose string that had managed to unravel from the hem of her shirt. Her calculus teacher was cut off by the announcement, “Good Afternoon Royals! I am overjoyed to welcome you all back to campus!...” Paige tuned out the voice of her principal, opting to look around at her classmates around her, all working on the pre-assessment for the class. Her eyes are drawn to the bulletin board, full of clubs and different volunteer opportunities. But one poster stands out, a specific dark haired girl that had been consuming her thoughts. Her teeth in a smile as the words around her talked about a dance gala, auctions being held at it to raise money for cancer research. Paige took a mental note of it, being snapped back to reality when she heard the euphony of backpack zippers, “Just like always, seniors will be dismissed first, if you’re a senior, you may make your way over to your car now!” Paige closed her eyes for a moment, the stress easing away from her as realization dawned upon her. She made it through the first day.

Pulling out her phone, she makes a new group chat with Blaire and Jalen, shooting a text about grabbing food at Panda Express, the Chinese food sounding awfully good to soothe the hunger that had settled into her stomach, she didn’t eat during her lunch period, wanting to talk Blaire’s ear off as much as possible in the allotted time.

–

Paige rushes towards the door, wanting to reach it before Blaire, stumbling over her excited feet, she yanks the door open, flashing a smile and wiggling her eyebrows at Blaire.

Jalen had gotten roped into helping his parents with stuff at home, but the two girls decided to grab food before Blaire’s practice anyway, the two of them both agreeing that Panda Express sounded too good to pass up.

Paige watches Blaire order, a simple bowl of white rice with some honey sesame chicken, and while she trains her ears on what Blaire was ordering, she couldn’t help but notice the small details about the girl beside her. How her nose moved slightly while she talked, her hands picking at the nail polish that slightly flooded over the sides, her legs crossed, and her eyes squinting to see the menu a little better. The truth is, Paige hadn’t felt this in a long time, her last relationship had lasted a while, but honestly the two of them had been done for a while, just not having the guts to call it quits, Paige was dragged through an emotional rollercoaster, but the familiarity of it comforted her enough to get her to stay. That was over now though, Paige felt grateful that it was, because the girl in front of her was so intriguing to her, she hadn’t known her for long, but she wanted to peel back all her layers.

Paige and Blaire slid into high stools, well, Blaire had slid onto her stool, and Paige had sat right next to her, scooching hers close enough for their legs to touch. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Blaire said, referring to when they were up at the register. Paige shoved her card into the reader before Blaire could pull out her wallet, murmuring a slick, “You don’t gotta pay when you’re with me ma.” Paige shovels her food into her mouth, swallowing and licking her lips, “Stop pretending like you don’t like it.” Blaire rolls her eyes at that.

Paige holds the trash can open, Blaire disposes her bowl and fork. “Sooooo… I know parties aren’t your thing, but you gotta come to senior bonfire. It’s tradition” Paige perks up as she says this, hoping that Blaire will cave in. “Paige, you know I don’t do well with those kinds of things, too much opportunity for things to go wrong.” Blaire reasons, Paige fakes a pout, “Oh c’monnnnn, if you worry too much about ‘what can go wrong’ you’ll miss out on experiences that’ll go right!” Blaire gives a puzzled look to the taller girl. “Okay, that didn’t really make sense, but you get what I mean.” Paige answers to Blaire’s questioning look, Paige is persistent, tugging on Blaire’s shrug sleeve while repeating the word “please” more than one should say in a lifetime. “OKAY! Fine, I’ll go, but you have to promise to stay with me. If something happens, I’ll never forgive you.” Blaire pointedly says. Paige’s hands shoot up in defense, silence between them before a notification sounds from Paige’s phone, “Deal.” The blonde says, smiling in triumph.

[1818havefaith]

NICKI MINAJ MAKEUP: FAITH’S GUIDE 🎀🧁🍭

YOU WILL NEED

PRODUCTS

Primer

Baby Powder

Foundation/ Tinted Moisturiser

Concealer

Bronzer

Pressed Powder

Setting Powder

Brow Gel

Brow Pomade

Black eye pencil

Liquid Liner

Lashes

Lash Glue/ Bonding Glue

Highlight

Brown Lip Liner

Pink Lip Gloss

Setting Spray

TOOLS

Powder Brush

Concealer Brush

Bronzer Brush

Beauty Blender

Small Flat Brush

Eyebrow Brush

BASE

Apply primer all over your face

#faithtip: use a powder brush to apply baby powder all over your face

Your face will look super ashy after this step, but applying foundation/tinted moisturiser will fix this

Blend it in with a damp beauty blender - make sure the beauty blender is damp! otherwise the powder and foundation will me clumpy

#faithtip: dampen your beauty blender with setting spray for easier blending and a longer lasting base

After blending in your foundation/tinted moisturiser, apply a concealer that is only slightly lighter than your skin tone to your under-eyes

Apply some to your chin and cupid's bow

Leave your concealer to sit for at least 5 minutes

Blend well with a small concealer brush

Now apply either liquid or powder bronzer around your hairline and your cheeks and jawline

Smooth your bronzer out well with a brush

Now, use a powder puff to place loose setting powder on the areas that concealer was applied

Also apply a short line of setting powder underneath your bronzer for a clean crease

EYEBROWS

This step will be easier if your brows have a defined shape

Brush through your eyebrows with brow gel

Use a brow brush dipped in pomade, to draw a line at the bottom of your brow starting from the front of your brow to the end

Draw a similar line at the top of your brows

Fill in the space (don't fill in the very front of your brows to create an almost ombre effect)

Apply eyebrow gel on top

Then use a small brush to apply concealer underneath your eyebrows

Blend well with a beauty blender

Apply setting powder to under your brow

EYELINER

First apply primer to your eyelids

Add a small amount of baby powder

Then add pressed powder

#faithtip: First, use a black eyeliner pencil to draw out the shape of your eyeliner, then use the pencil or liquid liner to fill it in

Clean up the shape with a cotton bud or Q-tip, and use a brush or beauty blender to reapply the makeup you removed.

LASHES

Lashes that arent super heavy on the inner coners of your eye are preferred

I LOVE thick lashes but for this look make sure they're only super thick at the end/ in the middle

Select thick and long lashes/ lash clusters that suit your eye shape

#faithtip D-Curl lashes are your best friend

STRIP LASHES

But for this step apply glue to strip lashes

Wave the lashes around for a bit so the glue dries a tiny bit and feels a little bit sticky

Place them on the lash line and adjust where needed (using tweezers or fingers)

CLUSTER LASHES

Strip lashes can also be cut into smaller pieces or use cluster lashes

Dip them into glue and wipe off the excess

Use tweezers to hold the lashes

Pull the top of your eyelid upwards so you can see underneath your eyelashes

#faithtip Wipe the glue on the part you are applying to then you can dip the lash in glue again before actually placing it underneath your lash

This make the lashes more firm and secure

Make sure it is not too close to your eye as this can be irritating

Fan your eyes if you can still feel wet glue

You can add another layer of clusters for thicker lashes

BACK TO BASE

Brush the setting powder away with a powder brush

Brush the setting powder underneath your cheeks away with pressed powder

Apply highlighter to the tip of your nose, your brow bone and your cupid's bow

Make sure to keep the highlight application light and smooth it out

Spray setting spray all over your face

LIPS

Use a brown lip liner, slightly darker than/ similar to your skin tone, to outline your lips

Apply pink lip gloss to your lips

Then top it all off with clear lip gloss.

and DONE!

Watch my new video!

[dreamgrlarchive]

A Prissy Girl’s Guide to Spring

since i won’t be active on tumblr when next spring comes around, and i’ve done 3/4 seasons, i felt it was appropriate to go ahead and finish the series! if you find yourself inspired by my aesthetic/looks, you can absolutely use this as a guide for the next primavera season! 🐇

what’s the look this spring?

my personal forecast for fashion spring ‘24 is “pink pilates bimbo” for sure. the renewal of spring is the time for a wellness reset. so i’ll be engaging in a physical activity but i’ll still be in barbie attire. pink athleisure pieces with super girly additions is my predicted aesthetic. 🎀

first and foremost…

let’s talk about what spring symbolizes: renewal, cleansing, and restarting. that makes itself apparent in the seasons colors; the darkness of winter transitions to the soft pastels of spring.

preparation

start spring cleaning and prepping for seasonal allergies. stock up on in season fruits to keep in the house. take up outside activities like biking, outdoor yoga, and jogging. buy new fragrances. prep your skin and hair for the overtime humidity.

essentials

pretty umbrella

allergy meds/quarterly check up

new water bottle/tumbler

fresh and clean candles + home fragrances

matcha and jade citrus tea

humidifier

neti pot

clothes and accessories

pink athleisure. the lululemon strawberry milkshake jacket is a must! (or a dupe if you’re on budget)

foldover yoga pants

bedazzled pieces

pastel colored pieces

cute mini bags

victoria’s secret totes

tennis skirts

sheer + lacey tops

florals for spring? groundbreaking.

glitter + sequins

satin dresses

lace up sandals

hunter boots

coach baguettes

victoria’s secret co-ords, leggings and sweaters

ballet flats

ugg slippers + fluff sandals

cute gym shoes with pink/sparkly details

lace up pieces

baby blue is a staple color for spring

ruffle trims

warm materials + revealing cuts

“pastry princess” looks inspired by sweets and dessertz

cropped baby tees

stripper heelz

diamond jewelry

body jewelry + belly chainz

sparkly hair clips and headbands

butterfly aesthetics

ribbons and bows

ostrich feathers

sparkly keychains and wristlets

bodysuits + heels combo

statement jewelry like hello kitty, fruit or desserts

beauty

pretty eye pigments (try mac, huda or iconic london)

vibrant pinks

warm bronzer

glitter gloss

translucent glosses in pink and orange

charlotte tilbury flawless filter

nars super orgasm blush

morphe 8r complexion palette

morphe nikita palette

natasha denona diamond & glow (favvv)

a bunch of clear glosses

fenty diamond bomb

fenty fussy gloss bomb

urban decay moondust shadows

cake beauty products

joseon spf 50

bright and/or floral fragrances (gucci flora gorgeous gardenia, jimmy choo illicit flower, carolina herrera good girl blush, juliette has a gun collection, yves saint laurent mon paris intensement, marc jacobs daisy fragrances)

victoria’s secret love spell + warm and cozy + la crème fragrances

sol de janeiro body mists

body shimmer (fenty beauty or bath and body works)

sweet body butters

sol de janeiro beija flor

exfoliating gloves

juicy sheet masks

cetaphil moisturizing cream

native candy shop collection

victoria’s secret tease + eau so sexy

5 blade razors and post shave oil

cute mirrors to keep in my purses

glitter nails

lavenders and pinks

protein treatments for moisture overload

[cynthiafilipowicz]

cynthia. irl bambi. 4'11. brown. fawns. fall. bows. lace. pinterest. shopping. fall coded music. lana del rey. gold jewelry. charlotte tilbury. vanilla everything. bronzer. lip liner. lip gloss. rhode. digi cams. baking. bunnies. gilmore girls. coffee. friends.

©CYNTHIAFILIPOWICZ

@ nobody 's bambi ⭑₊⊹

— @oliviabirlem @faye-blak3 @lithornton @mnteverestt @christophersturni0lo @madisonb44r @brooklynparkerrr @chasewalkerr @vancepowll @madiifilipowicz @ellameyers @theashb @kurodahana @nateybaby @lilliesarerosies @theojoness @genevieveiscoolll

[lomahdu]

Nothing more

☀︎—pairings:keum!seongje x oc!characher

☀︎—warnings:swearing

☀︎—Lena's note:Guys i absolutely HATED writing those fight scenes cuz i had to watch wh and write at the same time and honestly was overstimulating

☀︎—word count:2552

☀︎—Chapter!3; Chapter!4; Chapter!5

As always, my alarm went off at exactly 6:15 AM — and yes, it scared the life out of me. Like it always does. Seriously, I don’t know why I haven’t switched the ringtone yet, but here we are.

I pulled on my baby pink sweater — the soft kind that makes you want to hug yourself — with sleeves that casually draped just over my wrists. I tucked it into my snow-white, multi-layered mini skirt with delicate lace trim at the edges.

Next stop: vanity. I started with my favorite moisturizer. Today, I decided to go for a not-so-natural natural makeup look. You know, the kind where you still look like you, but if “you” had 20 extra minutes of sleep and cheekbones carved by angels.

Once the Avene moisturizer sunk into my skin, I patted on some eye cream — dark circles? Never heard of them — and followed with sunscreen. Then primer. I waited for it to set (yes, I have patience when it comes to slaying), dotted foundation on my hand, and gently bounced it onto my skin with a beauty blender. Soft, smooth, flawless.

Then came my trusty concealer, expertly applied under the eyes, on the chin, and across the forehead — anywhere that needed a little brightening. I blended it all out, set everything with translucent powder (we are NOT doing oily skin today), and added bronzer to the hollows of my cheeks so I wouldn’t look like Casper’s long-lost cousin. A dab of blush, a touch of highlighter, and setting spray to lock it all in.

Mascara? Check. Lashes? Of course. I grabbed a wet wipe and cleaned off the foundation that had somehow made its way to my lips, then lined them with a neutral lip pencil and topped it off with a light pink gloss.

I don’t know what got into me today. Maybe it’s the weather. Maybe it’s my villain origin story beginning. Who knows. But I was actually trying. For school. Wild.

I brushed my hair out, sprayed on heat protectant because when i was fifteen i burned my hair really bad, and since then i'm not taking any risks , plugged in my curling wand, and curled my hair while Arctic Monkeys played in my AirPods. Total montage moment.

A spritz (okay, several spritzes) of my favorite vanilla perfume, and I slipped into my light cream ankle boots with a three-inch heel — nothing too crazy, but enough to remind people I’m not here to play. My bag was already slung over my shoulder, matching the boots and decorated with two baby pink bows right where the straps met the fabric. Details matter.

I stepped out of my room and walked into the kitchen for a glass of water. Of course, there was Sieun — already at the table eating, like he didn’t have a care in the world. And for once, he wasn’t buried in one of his notebooks.

“Morning, psycho,” I greeted him sweetly as I poured myself a glass of water.

He glanced up, gave me the usual “Good morning,” and then paused. His eyes slowly scanned me from head to toe. “Why are you so dressed up today?” he asked with a raised brow.

“Do I need a reason to look good?” I replied, sipping my water.Today i was in mood main character.

To be fair it is my life so basically i'm the main character

“Anyway, what are you doing after school?” I added, casually changing the subject.

“Nothing.”

“Wanna hang out after? I’ve got a free period, so I finish earlier than you. I could wait for you outside your school.”

“Sure, where?”

“I don’t know… just somewhere,” I shrugged, glancing at my phone. Crap. I was about to be late. Again. “What time do you finish?”

“Four,” he said, walking toward the front door. I followed right behind him.

“Cool, I’ll wait for you then. I’m done by 3:30,” I said, slipping out the door just before him.

Miraculously, I caught my bus on time today. No running, no panic. And even better — there were actual free seats. I took the one by the window, settled in, and just as I was about to zone out, my phone buzzed.

Instagram notification.

sjkeum_07 liked your photo.

The only photo I even had on there was from two years ago — back when I was fifteen. Not weird at all to be liking a two-year-old post. Nope. Totally normal.

[timeskip]

I stood by a wall, waiting for Sieun. Students were starting to pass by me in waves, which was a solid hint that my brother should be showing up any moment now. And like I had summoned him with a spell, there he was — dragging himself along with Juntae by his side.

Dragging, literally. He looked half-dead, like he had fought sleep and lost.

“Hi guys,” I greeted them, casually brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“Are you two going somewhere? I can leave y—” Juntae started to ask, but I cut him off without missing a beat.

“We’re going to grab something to eat. Wanna come?” I said, tilting my head slightly and raising an eyebrow.

Juntae looked at me, then over at Sieun, and gave a small nod. “Thanks.”

“Which way are we taking?” I asked, trying not to sound like I cared too much.

“There’s a shortcut,” Juntae replied, “but bullies used to wait there for victims.”

“Relax, dude. My brother stabs people with pens — we're safe,” I said with a grin, nudging Sieun for effect. He didn’t even acknowledge it and just kept walking like nothing was said.

Typical.

I followed behind him with a smirk, loving every second of poking fun at his pen-stabbing reputation. Juntae walked next to me, quiet.

We walked for a while before I decided to break the silence. “So… are you guys friends?” I asked, eyes flicking between them.

“Uh… yeah, you could say that,” Juntae responded, voice unsure.

“Well, congrats. You’re the chosen one,” I said dryly, then added, “By the way, why didn't you just sell his phone? Seriously.”

Sieun sighed like my existence personally exhausted him.

“Newton’s third law,” was all Juntae said in response.

We were entering a short tunnel. On the wall, there was a red graffiti tag:

“Eungjanh High, no fighting”

Signed: Baku.

Suddenly, someone yelled behind us — “Hey!”

The three of us turned around. A boy in a blue hoodie and black pants stood there, out of breath and glaring.

“Oh… Go Hyun-tak?” Juntae asked.

The boy — Hyun-tak, apparently — muttered something under his breath and stalked toward us, planting himself directly in front of Sieun.

“Who do you think you are?” the boy in the blue hoodie spat.

Sieun didn’t answer. Typical again.

“Why’d you came to our clubroom and tear everything to shreds, you fucking dickhead.”

I blinked. Uh, what?

Sieun? Destroying someone’s clubroom? Not that it’s impossible — I mean, he does have the whole brooding, silent-chaos vibe — but seriously? He’s got better things to do than trashing rooms.

“I think—” Juntae began carefully.

“There must have been a bit of a misunderstanding,” he finished, choosing his words like they were landmines.

“Mind your business,” the boy snapped.

“Unless you wanna fucking die.”

I laughed. Out loud.

He turned to look at me.

“Are you actually insane, or just pretending?” I shot back. “My brother didn’t trash your damn clubroom.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but Sieun interrupted, deadpan.

“Go on.”

“Why’d you say?” Hyun-tak asked, taken aback.

“You aren’t going to listen to us anyway,” Sieun said coolly. “So just do it. I’ll make sure to let you win.”

The boy scoffed. “Fucking lunatic.”

He paused, then snapped again: “Stop putting on that fucking act.”

I rolled my eyes and snapped right back:

“You’ve said ‘fucking’ more times than you’ve got brain cells. Can you just shut up?”

He shot me a glare, but quickly turned back to Sieun.

“You killed a guy at your last school, am I right?” he asked.

“No?” he added with mock innocence.

“Ah,” he chuckled. “I’m sorry — you just put him into a coma, not killed him, right?”

Okay, what the hell is this idiot talking about? He doesn’t know anything.

Fucking imbecile.

“Shut up. You don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about,” I said firmly, but he ignored me — eyes still locked on my brother like some courtroom judge.

“Ah, man,” Hyun-tak laughed humorlessly.

“You ruined someone else’s life, so stop acting all high and mighty.”

“What a fucking hypocrite.”

I swallowed hard and glanced at Sieun. His jaw was tight. His lip and eyelid twitched slightly — a subtle tell. Not good.

Without a word, he dropped his bag and swung it at the boy. The first hit missed. Hyun-tak dodged easily. Sieun swung again. Then again. On the third try, Hyun-tak caught the strap and kicked him in the stomach.

Sieun stumbled back, his spine hitting the tunnel wall before collapsing to the ground.

He glanced over at an abandoned pencil case on the ground.

Hyun-tak raised his leg, aiming a kick for Sieun’s head — but he rolled away just in time, scrambling toward the pencil case. In a blur, he opened it and hurled a few pens at the boy like makeshift weapons. Then he grabbed one and lunged to stab him.

Hyun-tak caught Sieun’s wrist mid-air.

Sieun kneed him hard in the stomach, making him stagger back. He took that chance and punched him across the jaw. Another lunge, another stab attempt — but Hyun-tak slapped the pen out of his hand.

Hyun-tak trapped Sieun under his foot, pressing it into his chest.

But Sieun somehow shoved him off, dodging just in time. The boy in the hoodie came swinging again, but my brother ducked, scooped up the fallen pen, and slashed — tearing through both skin and fabric on Hyun-tak’s bicep.

A thin line of blood formed, and the hoodie sleeve ripped.

“Shit,” Hyun-tak hissed under his breath, eyes full of rage "You fucking psycho".He was about to attack again when—

Clack. Clack. Clack.

The sound of metal bats slamming against the tunnel wall echoed behind us.

We all turned around and saw six guys holding metal bats. The one in front laughed and asked, “Were you having fun, motherfucker?” Then without waiting for a response, he barked, "Beat them up"

The guys charged — first at the blue-hoodie psycho, then at my brother.

Hyuntak dodged the first few hits but 5 people attacked him so he failed to dodge the other ones. Sieun was attacked by the guy in front — the one who’d spoken first. My brother tried to stab him with his pen again, but it didn’t work this time. The guy slammed Sieun against the wall, pinning him there with his bat.

I turned toward Juntae. He was just standing there. Doing nothing. Seriously?

The guy was still pressing my brother to the wall with the bat, so I looked around and saw an empty beer bottle nearby. I grabbed it and smashed it straight into the bastard’s head.

He groaned, clutched his scalp, turntd around glared at me.

“I'm going to beat the shit out of you, you fucking bitch” he hissed.

He started toward me. I took a few steps back, thinking, oh great, but before he could lay a finger on me — Sieun punched him in the back of the head, right where I’d smashed the bottle.

The guy whipped around, furious, and swung the bat at Sieun. The first hit missed. The second didn’t — it slammed into his ribs, knocking him to the ground.

I looked over at Hyuntak — he was on the floor, getting kicked by five of the guys like a human punching bag.

Then I glanced back to Sieun. The guy with the bat was raising it again, ready to strike while my brother was still down.

I was about to make a move when suddenly—

“Everyone freeze!”

A new voice shouted from behind me and Juntae.

I turned around. A boy about our age — maybe 180 cm tall — stood there. He had red hair.

Red hair.

It didn’t suit him. At all. Like… not even a little bit.

The guy about to hit my brother stopped mid-swing, the metal bat hovering in the air.

He turned to look at the red-haired kid.

I heard one of the guys standing over blue-hoodie guy mutter, “Baku.”

The redhead looked toward Hyuntak and greeted him casually,

“Hey Gotak, i'm Kang Baek-ho's spitting image"

Kang Baek what?

Hyuntak — or Gotak, I guess? Honestly, I don’t know what to call him anymore — snorted.

“Have you even looked in a mirror?Did you pour spicy sauce on your head” he laughed.

Baku’s smile vanished. He turned toward the guy with the bat next to Sieun and asked,

“What the hell are you doing, Hyoman?"

Hyoman laughed nervously, tossed the bat aside like it was suddenly made of lava, and stammered.

“Oh, Baku, I didn’t know you were back! Uh… this is a misunderstanding, really. It’s not what it looks like—”

Baku ignored him.

He ran toward Hyoman — with a basketball in his hands.

He jumped, raised the ball high, and smashed it into Hyoman’s head like it was a dunk contest from hell.

What the actual—

Hyoman collapsed on the filthy ground.

Baku looked over at the five guys still standing over Gotak. Without a word, they all dropped their bats and took off running.

I raised my brows at all of them but didn’t say anything. I walked straight to my brother and knelt beside him.

“Sieun, are you okay?” I asked, worried.

He just nodded and began to get up, one hand over his ribs — exactly where Hyoman had hit him with the bat earlier. I helped him up.

Then Baku looked over at us and asked"

“Who even are you two? I’ve never seen you around.”

His eyes flicked to me.

“You can’t be from Eunjang High — you’re a girl.”

“Thanks for telling me, I didn’t know,” I said dryly.

He just raised a brow in response.

I turned to my brother and sighed.

“I don’t feel like going anywhere after all this.”

“Same,” he muttered.

Then I looked at Juntae.

“I know I invited you, but maybe another time?” I said, trying not to sound too rude.

He just gave me a small smile and nodded.

“Alright. Bye, I guess,” I said to everyone. Me, Sieun, and Juntae started walking toward the bus stop.

Juntae said something quietly to my brother, and I fell slightly behind them.

As I walked past Hyuntak, I whispered.

“If you ever mention the boy who's in come again, I’ll hire someone to bury you alive.”

I didn’t wait for his reaction.

I just kept walking.

I didn't really have the money for that, but he didn't know that.

[theevergorgeous-asmo]

*knockknock*

Hey, um...Asmo? It's Ash

I was wondering if you could...um...help me out with my makeup...? I have no idea what I'm doing, and you always look so put together, so maybe a few pointers would help...?

Hmm!! Kay!! General Makeup Tips for a Flawless Look! Like myself ✨

1. Start with Skincare-

Cleanse, tone, and moisturize.

Apply a primer suited to your skin type (mattifying for oily skin, hydrating for dry skin).

2. Base/Foundation Tips-

Choose a foundation that matches your undertone (warm, cool, neutral).

Use a damp sponge for a natural, skin-like finish.

Blend into the neck to avoid a mask effect.

3. Concealer Strategy-

Use a shade slightly lighter for under eyes.

Spot conceal blemishes with a shade that matches your foundation.

Let concealer sit for 30 seconds before blending for more coverage.

4. Set Strategically-

Use translucent powder on oily areas or under the eyes to prevent creasing.

Avoid over-powdering if you want a glowy finish.

5. Blush, Bronzer & Highlight-

Blush: Apply to apples of cheeks and blend upward.

Bronzer: Warm up the face by applying around the forehead, cheekbones, and jawline.

Highlighter: Apply to high points (cheekbones, bridge of nose, cupid’s bow) for a glow.

6. Brows-

Light, feathery strokes mimic natural hair.

Use a tinted brow gel to set and add volume.

7. Eyes-

Primer helps shadow last longer and appear more vibrant.

Stick to matte shades for depth and shimmer on the lids for pop.

Curl lashes and apply mascara for lifted eyes.

8. Lips-

Exfoliate and moisturize first.

Line your lips to define and prevent feathering.

Apply lipstick or gloss based on the look you’re going for.

9. Setting Spray-

Use a setting spray to lock in your makeup or refresh it throughout the day.

Quick Bonus Tips-

Mix foundation with moisturizer for a tinted look on minimal-makeup days.

Use cream products for a dewy finish; powders for a matte look.

Use white or nude eyeliner on the waterline to make eyes look bigger.

[happybirthdaydarling]

I keep seeing random ass reels and shit about being embarrassed about how your makeup used to look… but like girl. it’s just trends. You will be embarrassed by your current trend of having a glossy looking face in ten years too. You will be embarrassed by your fluffing of eyebrows and wearing lipstick to fill in your cupids bow. You will joke about looking stupid with how much blush you use now just like you mock your former self for using too much bronzer.

Aren’t you sick of making fun of your younger self? Why are you following trends if you’ll shit on yourself in a decade for doing so?

[anemoiawithatouchofobsession]

I wanna ID Lee Seung Yeon's outfit and makeup from Episode 4 of Love In Your Arms soooo baaaaddd

Because this did not eat for nothing!

Sooo some pics for the fit and accessories:

Its an all-white one-piece button-down collared mid-length dress with a brown belt. I'm guessing it's a Prada straw Hat with the bow (I know this because Aunty June has one like that too and she said its Prada), the bag has braided leather handles and is probably tote?. The accessories are probably a set, the necklace matches the earrings.

Some for the makeup inspo :

Its all very matte, very nude with a pop of colour for her lips. Her base is matte, probably a powder foundation on top of a regular TV foundation (im looking at you, Kryolan pan stick). A slight nose tip and nose bridge highlight is visible but not overstated. There is no blush, bronzer or contour, but possible concealer to clean up the eyebrows, which are threaded/waxed to a thin, arched form.

As you can see in the first picture above, the lipliner is darker than the lip, which is a matte cool toned mauve-purple. The lipliner is either dark brown or purple. Her cupids bow is not overlined and neither are her edges, giving her lips a more smaller and delicate look rather than thickness. Her eyes have a soft brown smokey look with emphasis on the eye hollows near the nose bridge reaching up to her eyebrows, a warm toned bronzing brown on her full lid with a little bit of orange to give the center of the lid more pop, and the eyeliner is black, possibly dark brown and blended out to perfection to create a naturally "extending" eyeline as well as depth.

Aaaand for the hair :

Her hair is braided, tied up vertically, and decorated with a scarf tied around. I want to guess that's a Gucci scarf? Like something from a luxury brand because this role was supposed to be a rich chaebol girl. She has a voluminous front bang that goes from one side part and tapers out with a swoop, and she has two strands of hair hanging from each side for the aesthetic (some trend truly never die down)

---

I just want to scroll pinterest and find the clothing that and make an educated guess about the makeup so that I can try and recreate it

[femmefatalevibe]

how do you get monica belluccis vibe (with short wavy hair)?

Use nourishing shampoo/conditioner with a leave-in, anti-frizz conditioner. Let your hair air-dry

Apply ultra-nourishing facial moisturizer to the skin with SPF

For makeup: Use a satin-finish foundation with medium to full concealer underneath to cover imperfections; apply a golden brown bronzer as a contour and a pearly-highlighter to the cheekbones& high points of your face if not oily (tip/bridge of nose, cupid's bow, chin, middle of forehead); Fill in your brows so they look full but natural with a match brow pencil/powder shade; Create a grey-brown smokey eye with a golden bronze/taupe eyeshadow as a base on the lid with a smokey grey in the crease and black shadow on the outer corner(if desired); Apply a thin layer of black liner to the top of the eye with a subtle, classic wing and to the water line/tight line (inner rim); FInish off the lips with a matte or satin finish pink-brown lipstick (or a "your lips but better" hue)

For clothing: Tailored black wardrobe staples in high-quality fabrics – sharp wool/leather/silk blazers, crisp moto jackets, Pima cotton tops or silk camis/blouses, cashmere/leather bodysuits, tailored straight-leg or bootcut black trousers/denim, black slip dress/bodycon knit or heavy-fabric dresses, long tailored black coats in wool, leather, or silk with accents of black lace/red/leopard print

For accessories: Statement crystal, pearl, or classic chunky necklaces with sleek black heeled boots or pumps with a pointed or almond-shaped toe, black tights & hosiery

[lovelanguageisolate]

First Night in Bangkok

Christopher Hitchens once said that however hard you try to avoid cliché, visiting communist Czechoslovakia forces you to reference Kafka at some point.

Anyways, Bangkok really is a fucking trip, man. I feel like I died two days ago and reincarnated in a William Gibson novel. So very much.

Inhuman cybercapital futurity assembling itself in a thousand gleaming Hong Kong-domiciled gigabanks and digital nomad cafés and dancing girls as it chokes old Buddhist temples and shantytowns and struggling palms in a traumatically transcultural miasma of a myriad reactive nitrous oxide species coughed up by a million two-stroke motors.

After a brief nap in my luxury burbclave hotel, security guard and English-fluent beaming hotel staff staff at post, me trying to do battle against 15 timezone hours' worth of jetlag, I register for the first time that I've been dissociating. I'm hobbling around on the air cast I wear for my foot sprain and a collapsible Walgreens cane, of the kind I imagine two-bit hustlers using to beat drug dealers poaching on their turf. But I'm in my favorite mass-market synthetic ink tie dye shirt, made somewhere in Central America I don't recall off hand, my blue tourist shorts, and my Buddhist beaded mala, engraved with Sanskrit I cannot read, on plastic draw string, so hopefully everyone knows I'm a chill dude.

I am in an eight floor mega shopping mall. There are robots serving white frat boys and dutiful waiters in white masks who could be robots serving local Thai prep school kids in sky blue school uniforms 500 baht sirloin steak dinners.

There are as many languages spoken here it feels like as New York City. And hotels, restaurant, massage parlors, tailors, purpose built to pander to rich Arabs, rich Chinese, rich Americans.

There is a strange amodernity to all the floating signifiers. White spring break kids approximating Thai names and wai hand clasps. Chinese shirts with a Markov chain’s chants of floating English prestige nonsense. Transcontinental fake gold watch arbitrageurs. More virtual market makers than a Jersey City server farm somehow spun up and cast into human form.

Sub-orbital resort vacationers in one corner. The state messages of the network monarch on a giant billboard overlooking a four-story expressway overpass on another. Everyone communicating in signs, gestures, and humble Buddhist bows. Hindu, Christian, Mormon, Jew, Shiite, Sunni, and so many Buddhists, all sitting and eating and shopping and praying and coughing and sputtering and fucking and bowing to one another at the end of the world before the self-aware chatbots reconstitute all the anthropomass on the third rock from the nuclear furnace. And of course, on TV, a narcissistic reality TV star in orange bronzer and an oversized navy blue Brioni suit and red tie is inaugurated president of the United States for a second time.

And my $4 dinner, served by surgically masked waitstaff at the shopping mall of the omega point. The terminal object in the category of mass market commercialism. Another floating signifier: a featured photo on Wikipedia of beautiful Jackson Hole, Wyoming, where I've actually been, here mobilized as a metonym for the kind of steak restaurant this place is supposed to be. Of course, probably no one who works here has been to America. It reminds me of Gilles Deleuze’s characterization of capitalism as an inherently deterritorializing process—one that makes every place into every other place, until no one knows where they are.

And the strangest thing is that somehow, between the tourists trying to immerse themselves in the fakery, and the shop workers trying to perform, something genuine is created, even though the thing the performance refers to is fake—and everyone knows it.

Actually, maybe the craziest moment was when I was walking past the clothing hawkers. Of which there were just so unbelievably many. And they were selling wildly unlicensed branded merch for Luis Vuitton and Ralph Loren and Balenciaga and GUESS, etc. Some of them laughably implausible. But others effectively the real thing. The Asian tourists love those in particular. And I asked myself, “how did these knockoffs get so good?”

And then I remembered: Thailand is the place where all of this crap actually gets made! It’s all outsourced to here. They’re just cutting out the middle men seeking rent on the brand. And so I’m not really sure who’s the fraud here. Is it the unlicensed shirt hawker trying to take me for a ride and fudge their “tax” calculations? Or is it the Italian fashion house trying to charge me 20x what it costs the Thai sweatshop workers to make?

I see a case for each.

Obviously not JUST Thailand makes this. There’s also Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Honduras, Costa Rica, etc. All the groveling satellite states trying to scramble up the value-added ladder that capital and IP and telecom flows have turned into the 21st century's Manchester. All part of that big globalized textile mill.

Anyways, I got a pretty nice white dress shirt for like $15 and a truly label-less white bucket hat for $5. And I’m almost sure I got taken for a ride, but I was waaay too tired to haggle, and anyways, by any standard of justice as globalized as these clothing flows, I'm the one taking them for a ride.

I message my mother, half way around the world. It's 7:30 AM on the Eastern Seaboard of the US. It's 7:30 PM here in Bangkok. My mother says, "Keep your wits about you, man. You have to play the haggle game. It's in your Albanian blood. My grandmother would have taught you plenty, had she been there."

I can't help but think that they’d have been like, “no, please! Just take it! For free!! ” after 3 minutes of that. Those Bangkok street hagglers have never met an Albanian orphan.

Gonna go to a Buddhist temple tomorrow. First, tonight, a cocktail bar overlooking the city. In my $1000 black John Varvatos jacket with the Mandarin collar over the $15 off-brand shirt I just bought.

[1818havefaith]

FAITH’S GUIDE TO GET THAT LOOK: FOXY BROWN

I've decided to start a series based around the prettiest and flyest black women! I've decided to start with the 'darkskin Christian Dior poster girl, ' Foxy Brown! Think 90s minimalism that isn’t shy of colour, Donna Karan, Gucci by Tom Ford, Christian Dior Spring RTW 2000, leather and coloured furs, iced out jewellery and the sickest heels you’ve ever seen, some bohemian style accessories, dark thin eyebrows and dark lips that match your black mini dress.

When Foxy took off in the 90s minimalism was all the rage, most rappers and R&B singers were in leather , denim sporting casual styles that were dressed up with gold jewellery and fur. Foxy adopted this style whilst adding her own flair. She was flashy and sexy but her style still remained simple and classic. Matching her lyrics, where she expressed her love for designer and high fashion, hyped herself up as a sex symbol whilst still being a classy lady.

HAIR

Foxy often wore sew ins with an invisible parting straight or wavy were her usual texture options. The invisible parting sew in has been a technique used by stylists since sew ins came on the scene.

But to add your own flair to this look, wear your hair how you feel best.

NAILS

Foxy's nail length often varied, but regardless of length, the colours remained neutral, sometimes black. Her commonly worn nails were medium length and nude-pink acrylic overlay (think getting your nails done and they put the acrylic on and apply a clear/light pink finish and don't paint it further)

THE FACE

Foxy's features were always highlighted without her ever putting too much on her face.

THE BROWS

Eyebrows can be thinned using an eyebrow razor, shaving cream and tweazers.

When it comes to makeup use an eyebrow pomade to follow the shape of your thin brows to define them.

BASE

Foxy always had a flawless skin-like base.

To achieve this you will need:

Primer

Fan/ something to fan yourself with

Foundation

Foundation brush

Lighter but not super light concealer

Concealer brush

Pressed powder

Setting powder

Powder Brush

Powder Puff

Bronzer

Eyeliner

Mascara/Cluster Lashes

Lip Liner

Lipstick/Lip Gloss

STEPS

After filling in your brows, apply primer to your face

#faithtip: apply a pump of primer to your finger and apply it to your laugh lines to help reduce the appearance of laugh lines

Fan your face dry

#faithtip: use a powder brush to apply baby powder all over your face, pay extra attention to lines and creases so your makeup doesn't crease too much

Your face will look super ashy after this step, but applying foundation will fix this

Do not put too much on or it will be too cakey apply small dots to each part of your face and apply a bit more where needed

Blend it in with a foundation brush

After blending in your foundation apply a concealer that is only slightly lighter than your skin tone to your under-eyes

Apply a little bit of bronzer along your hairline, your cheekbones and a little bit on your jaw.

Now use a powder brush to pat press powder into your face.

Then use a powder puff to apply setting powder your under eyes following your eye shape, your chin, your cupids bow and a clean line under your brow.

EYES

Foxy loves to highlight her eyes sometimes subtly, sometimes heavy.

Use an eyeliner pencil/pen/black eyeshadow and apply it to the outer corners of your eye, creating a small wing.

Then use a small eyeshadow brush to smudge it slightly, still maintaining the shape and direction of the wing

Now depending on how dark you want your eyes to appear use mascara on you eyelashes or apply individual lashes for a more dramatic look.

HOW TO APPLY CLUSTER LASHES:

Strip lashes can also be cut into smaller pieces or use cluster lashes

Dip them into glue and wipe off the excess

Use tweezers to hold the lashes

Pull the top of your eyelid upwards so you can see underneath your eyelashes

#faithtip: Wipe the glue on the part you are applying to then you can dip the lash in glue again before actually placing it underneath your lash

This make the lashes more firm and secure

Make sure it is not too close to your eye as this can be irritating

Fan your eyes if you can still feel wet glue

BACK TO THE BASE

Using a powder brush, brush away/blend out the loose powder, under your eyes

Blend VERY well, as the powder has been sat on your face for a while, so it will not move easily

Now apply setting spray to your face till it's wet

Fan your face till dry

LIPS

Foxy either loved a dark lip or dark lip liner

A common hack for this time was holding a lighter slightly close to your lip liner to melt it slightly, for smother application and darker appearance

FOR A DARK LIP

Use a dark black/marron/purple lip liner

Then apply a lipstick/lipgloss in the same/slightly lighter shade

DARK LIPLINER AND PINK LIP

Line your top and bottom lip

Appy a pink lip gloss or lipstick in the middle

Go over your lip liner if you must

Blend your lip liner slightly

Apply a clear lip gloss or keep it matte in true 90s essence

FASHIONS

OK! Let's get into Miss Foxy's fashions. Foxy's style is characterised by sex appeal, glamour and sleek minimalistic styles. Like her contemporaries, her style was glamourous whilst simplistic and classy.

TOPS

There are so many pictures of her wearing mostly sleeveless tops. Vests, halter tops, tube tops you name it. With or without a jacket. She often wore plain tops with not graphics or patterns on them but if there was any logo on the shirt it usually remained minimalistic.

TUBE/BANDEAU TOPS

HALTER TOPS

TANK TOPS

BOTTOMS

She wore a range of bottoms often dependent on occasion and weather.

MINISKIRTS

CAPRI'S

MID/LOW WAISTED JEANS

SHOES

Foxy in any picture is mostly seen in heels, boots, stilettos, wedges from Gucci, Manolo Blahnik, Dior etc. but she occasionally wore sneakers/trainers in pictures where she is seen in sneakers they are from Chanel. A popular sneaker at the time as well was the Prada America’s cup.

HEELED BOOTS

STILETTOS

SNEAKERS/TRAINERS

OUTERWEAR

Fur and Leather wear in rotation for Foxy, making her looks more glamorous.

FUR COATS

LEATHER

OTHER PIECES

LOGOMANIA

MINIDRESSES

BAGS

Her bags were often small or medium sized and she would often opt for a small shoulder bag or a medium-sized handbag that she could wear on the crook of her arm.

JEWELRY

Bangles, chains, hoops, dainty bracelets and watches and dramatic drop earrings. Foxy was seen in different metals not just gold or silver. Her accessories usually elevated her minimalistic looks, almost transforming the outfit into a new look.

[amnestria-the-elf]

I had a dream that my 77-year-old mother was isekai'ed into BG3, so of course I had to write a small little ditty about it.

To be clear, my mother would make a terrible Tav. She has no interest in fantasy or sci-fi and spends the majority of her time on Facebook. Being outside is her least favorite activity. Her favorite TV show is one of the Sunday morning news programs (I have no idea which, because I have not watched broadcast television since 2012, but she definitely tells me about the stories they have on that show all the time.) She is not a decisive person; she was raised in the toxic traditional gender role post-war Boomer era, and is perfectly fine to let others dictate how her life turns out.

Having said all of that, she'd make a decent Bard. For a sweet-looking older lady, she can come up with some surprisingly sick burns. Probably all of that repressed rage that she refuses to get therapy about. Anyway.

*~~~*

Linda was far too old for this shit.

Other women her age spent their time knitting, or going to their little exercise classes, or watching their soaps, or swapping stories about their grandchildren, or writing interesting Facebook posts. God, she missed writing Facebook posts.

But not Linda. Oh, no. Linda had somehow gotten pulled into a horrifying universe and had some kind of parasite inserted in her head, and now found herself surrounded by an unlikely band of misfits who shared the same affliction.

Perhaps she was having a psychotic break. Maybe she was really back home and her daughter had placed her in some kind of institution because she was entirely unresponsive. Honestly, she hoped that was true, but her back hurt like hell and every wound she sustained bled real blood, and that odd little Goth girl had to heal her every time, so she was reasonably certain that what was happening was real.

She was getting better at not getting wounded as often, at least. She learned that she was of better use to the group when she stayed in the back and just yelled insults at the enemies while everyone else did their thing. The angry alien lady seemed perfectly happy to take her rage out on anyone in her way and that disturbingly pale elf did well with his little bow and arrow. He really needed to get some color into his cheeks; he’d never find someone to be with looking like that. If only she could go to Walgreens and get him some bronzer. It would do him a world of good.

The magical bearded man did a surprisingly good job of cooking their meals. Linda tried to help but quickly realized she had no idea how to cook over an open fire. She longed to be back in her newly-remodeled kitchen, with the induction cooktop and smart fridge that automatically reordered her groceries for her. How did any of these people even function without wifi? They would never get to see the funny cat videos that she sent her daughter every day. Such a shame.

The most helpful companion was the heroic young man who had jumped down to fight the goblins in front of the Grove. What was his name? Will? No, Wyll with a “Y.” She remembered the odd little Goth girl teasing him about it. He had been so good with those little horned children after the fight. Her granddaughter would love playing with him.

Tears stung at her eyes as she thought about her granddaughter. Would she ever get to see her again? She sighed heavily as she stared down into her bowl of porridge.

“Are you alright?” a kind voice asked.

Linda looked up to see Wyll coming to sit down on the log next to her with his own bowl of porridge.

“Oh, yes, I’m fine. I was just thinking about my granddaughter,” she said.

“Oh, you have a granddaughter?” Wyll asked. “What is she like?”

“She’s about the same age as those kids you were training back in the Grove. I think she’d like you, actually. She’s very active. She tears around the house as fast as she can, slaying imaginary dragons or pretending to be a lion.”

Wyll laughed. “A courageous heart, no doubt. I hope I can meet her someday.”

Linda sighed wistfully again. “She lives… very far away from here.”

He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You must miss her very much.”

“Yes,” she whispered as tears filled her eyes again.

“Istik, enough sniveling,” that angry alien lady interrupted. “We must find the creche today. Purification cannot wait.”

“Give her a break, Lae’zel,” Wyll said. “She misses her family.”

“Tch,” Lae’zel said with an eye roll, but walked away.

“We don’t have to listen to her, you know,” Wyll said when Lae’zel was out of earshot. “You can choose what we do today.”

“I don’t know what we should do,” she replied. “You decide.”

Wyll frowned. “Well, the area where the githyanki were spotted is not far from a little settlement, Waukeen’s rest. There might be a healer staying at the inn there. It’s a longshot, but…”

“That sounds fine,” Linda said. “Lead the way.”

*~~~*

The burning building put Linda over the edge. No way could she handle rushing into flames and smoke to save somebody. Let the young people kick in doors and risk life and limb. Wyll seemed very proud of himself as he rushed in, so Linda just sat down on the edge of the fountain with a soft groan. Minutes passed; she started to worry that perhaps they weren’t going to come back out when a group of sweaty, sooty people stumbled out, coughing. 

When it became clear that Wyll was actually the son of a Grand Duke, Linda’s mind was made up.

“That’s it, Wyll. From now on, you’re in charge,” she said.

“I’m… what?” he asked, bewildered.

“In charge. You make the decisions. I’m done,” she said.

“Um, you’re sure? I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes…”

“I’m sure. I don’t think any of the others can handle it. Magic man talks too much–”

“Magic man?” Wyll asked, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“I’m not good with names!” Linda snapped. “The pale one is too whiny and these two–” she gestured to Lae’zel and Shadowheart– “won’t quit fighting. That leaves you. Help me. Please.”

Lae’zel and Shadowheart both started to grumble, but Linda cut them off with a withering glare honed by years of experience taking care of children and a husband. Wyll eyed them, then nodded and took a deep breath. “All right. I’ll take charge. And make sure everyone gets what they need,” he said pointedly towards the others.

Good. Let Wyll do whatever needs to be done. From here on out, Linda was staying at camp.