#Lighting Design Rutherford

[smallsparkelectrical]

Lighting Design In Rutherford

For exceptional Lighting Design in Rutherford, trust Small Spark Contracting to bring your vision to life. Our expert team specializes in creating innovative and functional Rutherford lighting design solutions tailored to your specific needs. Whether you’re planning a new construction, renovation, or simply want to enhance the ambiance of your space, our designers are here to help. At Small…

[nikixkoo]

𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐓 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

pairing: jungkook x f!reader.

word count: 4.2k

content warnings: smut [MDNI], unprotected sex, make out, kind of public display, jungkook’s a bit (a lot) possessive, and lots of teasing.

a/n: hi! it’s niki here. 𐙚 this is my first time writing, but i hope u enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed doing it. english isn’t my first language, so please be kind if something isn’t right written! lots of love, muak. ≽^•⩊•^≼

She’s everything he hates to love. He’s everything she pretends not to need.

summary: In the world of wealth, secrets, and perfectly polished lies, you walk through the marble halls of the most prestigious university in the country like you own the place, because you practically do. Heiress of an empire. Flawless reputation. Everyone wants you. Everyone fears you.

Except him.

The only one who’s never looked at you like you were fragile. The only one who sees through the diamonds, the designer, the perfectly curated mask. Your favorite person, your first secret, and your biggest weakness.

You push his buttons. He tests your limits. You make him jealous on purpose. He pulls you into his bed like it’s nothing.

It’s not official. It’s not healthy.

But it’s yours.

The sun hits the field like a spotlight, casting golden light over expensive turf and even more expensive egos. Cleats scrape, whistles blow, and the boys of Rutherford’s lacrosse team move like they’re auditioning for the front page of some legacy magazine. At the center of it all, Jeon Jungkook.

Fast, lethal, and disgustingly good at everything. He runs drills like a general, yelling commands, barking orders, and still managing to look like a god dipped in sweat. The kind of boy that makes good grades and bad decisions.

Today’s practice? Open to the public.

Translation? It’s a flex. A show. A power move.

And of course, you’re there. You’re always there. Not for the game. Not for the sport. But for him.

You sit front row, sunglasses on, designer outfit hugging you like sin, legs crossed like a weapon.

You know he can see you. You know he wants to look. And he doesn’t, not once, until he scores the final shot, whips his helmet off, sweat in his hair, and finally lets his eyes land on you.

He doesn’t look away when he meets your eyes. He drags that gaze down your legs, up your figure, and settles on your mouth, like he’s remembering the last time he had you underneath him, begging. The way you moaned his name with your lip gloss smudged and your voice wrecked.

The crowd starts to thin after the final whistle, mostly girls pretending not to stare, and boys pretending not to envy.

You stay seated. You know he’ll come to you.

The crowd is gone, and Jungkook walks out of the changing rooms like he’s got the whole world in his back pocket.

Still damp from the shower, curls sticking to his forehead, gym bag slung low over his shoulder. He’s in his uniform pants, but the top is gone, replaced by a thin black t-shirt that clings to his chest in all the ways that make you want to bite something.

He sees you. And he doesn’t look away this time.

He slows as he reaches you, shadow falling over your seat. You’re still sitting like the spoiled goddess you are, legs crossed, lip gloss fresh, phone in hand like you weren’t just watching him like a movie you’ve seen a hundred times and still crave.

You don’t even look up. “Took you long enough.”

Jungkook snorts. “Didn’t know I had a timer.”

“You always do.” You finally glance at him, the corner of your mouth twitching. “You just pretend you don’t hear it ticking.”

There’s a pause. A beat of quiet so thick it feels heavy. His eyes roam your face like he’s searching for something, maybe your limit, maybe your weakness. But the truth is, you both know the answer already.

“You like pushing me, don’t you?” he murmurs.

You tilt your head. “Only when I know you’ll push back.”

The tension coils in the air, charged and dangerous.

“You wore that outfit for me?”

“You scored that goal for me?”

Touché.

He steps closer. Just a little. Close enough that your knees could brush if you shifted, but you don’t. Neither of you moves. You’re locked in that perfect space where tension thrives, just shy of something unforgivable.

“People are starting to talk,” he says quietly.

You hum. “They’ve always talked. They just don’t know what to say now.”

His gaze drops to your lips again. “They think you’re mine.”

You arch a brow. “Aren’t I?”

A beat passes. He doesn’t answer.

And maybe that’s your favorite thing about him, that he never says the things he feels. Not out loud. He says them in stares. In clenched fists. In the way he only kisses you when no one’s watching.

You stand, finally. And the shift is magnetic. Now you’re the one in his space. You fix the collar of his shirt like it bothers you, like touching him doesn’t set fire to your veins.

“Walk me to my car?” you ask sweetly, even though it’s not really a question.

He doesn’t respond. Just steps aside and lets you lead the way, like always.

You don’t talk.

Not until you’re leaning against the door, and he’s standing too close, eyes flickering from your lips to your neck to the space between you that’s already melting.

“You’re exhausting,” he mutters.

“And yet,” you smile, “you keep coming back.”

He leans in, nose brushing your cheek, mouth ghosting over your ear.

“I should let someone else deal with your attitude.”

You grin, unbothered. “You won’t.”

Tic tac, tic tac. He doesn’t answer.

Then his lips are on yours. Rough. Familiar. Dangerous.

Your lips move at the same pace as his, the tip of your tongue touching the piercing of his lower lip every time it enters his mouth, causing chills to run through your body.

It doesn’t last long. It never does when it’s this heated. He pulls away like he hates himself for it, and you fix your lipstick like nothing happened.

His breath is still warm on your lips, and his hand is still wrapped around your waist like he forgot how to let go. His gaze is locked on you. Dark, unreadable, burning.

You smirk, like none of it fazes you. Like your knees didn’t almost give out thirty seconds ago.

“Missed me?” you murmur.

Jungkook exhales a sharp breath. “You’re such a fucking brat.”

You tilt your head, feigning innocence. “And you like it.”

His jaw tightens, and for a second, just a second, his eyes flicker like he might kiss you again.

But instead, he drops his hand from your waist and takes a single step back, like space is the only thing keeping him sane.

“Do you even realize what you’re doing to me?” he mutters.

You blink, caught off guard by the shift in his tone.

“This game you play,” he goes on, voice low and dangerous. “Showing up, looking like that. Acting like I’m just some guy you can tease whenever you’re bored.”

“I don’t—”

“Yes, you do,” he cuts you off. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

You cross your arms, chin raised. “And what if I do?”

He laughs under his breath, bitter. “Then you’re more cruel than I thought.”

You take a step toward him. “And you’re more obsessed than you pretend to be.”

That gets him.

He looks at you like he wants to say something, something real. Something that would make this whole fake, undefined thing very real, very fast. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he leans in again, mouth brushing your ear.

“I could ruin every guy who looks at you the wrong way,” he whispers. “And the worst part? You’d love it.”

You swallow hard.

He’s right. You would.

But you can’t let him have the last word, not today.

So you turn your head slowly, lips ghosting over his, your voice just as quiet, “You won’t do it, though. Because you don’t want people to know you care.”

His eyes narrow. “I don’t.”

You smile. “Then why haven’t you left?”

A beat. He doesn’t answer.

He just watches you walk around the car, heels clicking like a countdown. Before you slide into the driver’s seat, you glance at him one last time.

“See you around.” You echo sweetly.

Then you shut the door and drive off, leaving him standing there. Alone, silent, and very, very messed up.

Your dorm is a war zone.

Shoes tossed across the floor. Perfume clouds lingering in the air. The faint bass of the party already vibrating through the walls from four floors down. And in the middle of the mess, you.

Dressed in baby pink, your favorite color. Tight, tiny, and just shy of dangerous. Glossy lips. Winged liner. Hair perfectly undone.

You look like heartbreak with a trust fund.

“I swear to God,” Val says, flopping onto your bed, “if Jungkook shows up with that skank again—”

“Valeria,” Mar warns from the bathroom, “we’re not calling her that.”

You grab your earrings, smirking. “We are if she shows up in that tacky rhinestone top again.”

Val snorts. “Queen behavior.”

Mar pops her head out, mascara wand in hand. “Are you even gonna talk to him tonight?”

You pause.

“No.”

The silence is loud.

Val lets out a dramatic sigh. “You two are exhausting. Just admit you’re in love, make out against the nearest wall, and let the rest of us live.”

You grab your purse, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. “We’re friends.”

“Yeah,” Mar mutters. “With benefits and unresolved trauma.”

You flip them both off with a perfectly manicured hand and head for the door.

The party is already on fire by the time you step in.

Music pulsing. Air thick with perfume, sweat, and secrets. Someone’s spilled tequila on the marble floor. There’s a fight brewing in the kitchen. And all of it fades the moment you see him.

Jungkook.

Center of the room like he owns it.

Black tee hugging his body like sin. Tattooed hand lazily holding a drink. And a girl, that girl, clinging to him like she’s got the right.

She laughs too loudly. Leans in too close. Touches his chest like she’s not two seconds away from being buried alive.

You freeze. Smile cracking.

Valeria steps beside you, looking bored. “Oh. He brought that one.”

Mar sips her drink. “Didn’t she throw up at the Halloween party?”

You glare. “Why the fuck is she touching him?”

Val raises a brow. “Better question, why do you care?”

You don’t answer. You’re too busy watching.

He hasn’t seen you yet. Or maybe he has, and he’s pretending he hasn’t.

Because that’s what he does, right?

Pushes. Pulls. Drives you crazy, then reels you back in.

You down half your drink in one go. You don’t storm off. That’s for girls who lose.

You walk. Chin high, back straight, smile razor-sharp.

He wants to play games? You wrote the damn rulebook.

And right on cue, there he is—Kim Jisung, legacy boy, wine-stained lips, and a crush on you so big he’d probably kill Jungkook for just breathing near you. You find him by the bar, bored and beautiful.

“Dance with me,” you purr into his ear.

He doesn’t hesitate.

You don’t look back, but you know Jungkook’s watching. And that’s the point.

The music gets louder. Lights blur. Jisung’s hand slides a little too low. His breath is a little too close.

But it doesn’t matter.

Because he’s not the one you’re thinking about.

Not the one you want.

He finds you in the hallway, half-drunk on power and tequila.

“You think he can touch you like I do?” Jungkook’s voice is low, dark, dangerous. “You think he knows what you like?”

You roll your eyes, leaning against the wall. “Are you seriously jealous right now?”

He laughs once, sharp and humorless. “You don’t get to play the victim, princess. Not after the way you looked at me all night. Like you wanted me to lose it.”

You tilt your head, lips curved. “Did you?”

He’s in front of you in a second. Hand against the wall next to your head. His scent all over you, soap, sweat and sin. His eyes drop to your lips.

“You don’t want him,” he says.

You hum. “Maybe I do.”

He grits his teeth. “Liar.”

“You’re not my boyfriend, Jungkook.”

His smile is slow. Infuriating. “No. But I’m the one who fucks you so good you forget your name.”

Your breath catches.

He sees it, how your fingers twitch, how your lips part.

And he leans in even closer, brushing his mouth over yours but not kissing you.

“I could take you right here,” he whispers. “Push that bratty attitude right out of you.”

You clench your jaw. “Then why don’t you?”

“Because you want me to,” he says, cruel and sweet. “And I like watching you beg.”

His body cages yours, eyes dark, jaw tense.

“You’re playing with fire,” you murmur, tilting your head, lashes fluttering like you’re not completely wrecked by the way he’s looking at you.

Jungkook’s breath is heavy. Controlled. But you know him. You know what’s under all that control. And it’s dangerous.

“You think you’re the only one who knows how to play?” His voice is low, lethal. “You think I didn’t see the way you looked at him?”

“Maybe I wanted you to see.” You smirk, brushing your fingers over his chest. “Maybe I wanted you pissed off.”

He leans in, lips brushing your ear.

“Congratulations, princess,” he growls. “You got what you wanted.”

Silence. Thick. Heavy. Tension so sharp it could slice you both open.

His hand slides up your waist, fingers splaying across silk and skin. He doesn’t kiss you yet, no, he’s crueler than that.

“I should leave you standing here,” he whispers. “Let you think about what you’ve done.”

Your breath catches, again.

“But I won’t.”

Because the thing is, Jungkook doesn’t do restraint where you’re concerned. Not when you look at him like that. Not when your lips are swollen from teasing, from smirking, from wanting.

He presses you back against the wall, one hand on your throat—not tight, just there. A warning.

“You want me angry?” he murmurs. “Then take it. Feel it.”

And finally, finally, his lips crash into yours.

It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s teeth, heat, and too many nights pretending you’re just friends.

You tug at his shirt. The hallway is too public. Too risky. Too perfect.

But just as it starts to blur, right when you think he’s going to lose it completely, he pulls away.

“I hope he saw that.”

And then he walks off. Leaving you against the wall. Pissed, panting, and ruined.

2:37 AM. You slam the door shut behind you.

Not loud enough to wake your roommates. Just loud enough to feel it. To feel something.

Your heels hit the floor first, followed by your jacket, then your body. Flat onto the designer duvet you bought out of boredom last fall.

Everything feels too much. Your skin still burns where he touched you. Your lips still tingle like they’re waiting for more.

And your heart? That traitorous thing is pounding like it doesn’t know the difference between lust and loathing anymore.

You press your fingers to your mouth, eyes fluttering shut.

He kissed you. No, he devoured you.

Like you were his punishment and his reward all at once.

And the worst part?

You let him. You loved it.

You told yourself you had the upper hand. That he’d be the one crawling back.

But now you’re the one lying on your bed, thinking about his hands, his voice, the way he said:

“I hope he saw that.”

God. He’s so annoying. So cocky. So hot when he’s mad.

You roll over, burying your face in your pillow.

You shouldn’t have gone with that guy. You shouldn’t have cared about Jungkook being with that girl.

But you did. You do.

And now you’re here, lying in your palace of silk and envy, trying to convince yourself this isn’t getting out of hand.

You’re not in love. You’re just obsessed. Right?

Right?

Your phone buzzes from the floor where you carelessly tossed it earlier.

You ignore it for a second, maybe out of pride. Maybe because you already know who it is.

But when it buzzes again, you glance over.

koo ♡ [2:47 AM]:

still thinking about me?

You blink.

Another message lands before you even finish rolling your eyes.

koo ♡ [2:48 AM]:

didn’t know you were into public displays. should’ve kissed you harder.

And then, as if he didn’t just detonate a bomb in your chest:

koo ♡ [2:49 AM]:

sweet dreams, princess.

You stare at the screen. Heart hammering. Skin flushed.

Pillow no longer enough to hide your grin, or your frustration.

God, you hate him. You want him. You hate that you want him.

You type something. Delete it. Type again.

You [2:52 AM]:

u’re so full of yourself.

His reply is instant.

koo ♡ [2:53 AM]:

🤥 you weren’t complaining when i had you against the wall.

You let out a strangled laugh, biting your lip so hard it stings.

He’s cocky. He’s smug. He’s impossible.

And he wins.

Because now you’re wide awake, cheeks hot, thighs pressed together, and you know—

This isn’t over. Not even close.

Saturday nights used to be chaos.

Drinks. Laughter. Parties you’d barely remember and dresses you’d only wear once.

But tonight?

Silence.

Your friends are out with their boyfriends—tragic, really. You stayed behind under the guise of needing rest, but mostly because you couldn’t stand the thought of pretending to care about some mediocre couple’s anniversary dinner.

Now it’s just you.

Satin robe. Hair up. Music low.

A glass of red wine you’re not even sipping anymore.

You’re sprawled across your bed, legs bare, mind racing with thoughts you shouldn’t have… of him.

Then, you hear three soft knocks. Your stomach flips.

You don’t need to check. You know it’s him. Of course it’s him.

You open the door, and there he is. Jeon Jungkook, dressed like a sin you’d commit twice, hoodie half-zipped, jaw sharp enough to hurt, that same smug glint in his eyes like he already knows you’ll let him in.

You lean against the frame. “Didn’t know we had plans tonight.”

He shrugs, stepping inside without waiting for permission. “You didn’t answer my texts.”

“Maybe I was busy.” You close the door behind him.

He turns to face you, eyes raking over your robe, your bare legs, the curve of your smirk.

“Yeah,” he says, voice low, “looks like it.”

You roll your eyes. “What do you want, Jungkook?”

He doesn’t answer at first. He just looks at you. Like he’s trying to decide if he wants to tease you or ruin you.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says finally. “Figured you might need company.”

“You figured wrong.”

He smirks. “That so? You always answer the door in lingerie when you’re not interested?”

You don’t respond.

You just turn and walk back to your bed, knowing he’s watching your every move.

He follows, he always does. The tension stretches, electric and maddening.

“You look comfortable,” he says, eyes still glued to your legs.

You tilt your head. “You look needy.”

He laughs under his breath, leaning back like he owns the room. “I am.”

You hate how that makes your heart race. Hate how your thighs clench. Hate how this game always ends the same.

But you love it, too. The way he looks at you like he’s starving. The way he speaks like he’s daring you to lose control first.

“You should leave,” you whisper.

He leans forward slowly, voice like smoke. “You should make me.”

His voice is low, cocky, soaked in heat. You should slam the door in his face. You should tell him to fuck off.

But your thighs press together. And you don’t move.

Jungkook steps closer, slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly how this ends. His eyes drop to your robe, the slip of skin peeking out, the hint of lace beneath. You don’t bother hiding it. You know what he came for.

“You’re not wearing anything under that, are you?”

You say nothing.

You just tug at the tie of your robe, slow and calculated, and let it fall open an inch, enough to show the soft dip of your waist, the lace of your panties, the fact that there’s not a bra in sight.

His jaw flexes.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

Then he’s on you.

The kiss is instant, hot and brutal, mouths colliding like magnets. His hands grab your waist, your ass, your everything, like he doesn’t know where to start. You let the robe slide off your shoulders, pooling onto the floor in a puddle of satin and sin.

He groans against your lips, breaking the kiss just to stare.

“Turn around,” he says, voice wrecked already.

You smirk, walking slowly to the bed, hips swaying, his eyes glued to every step.

You don’t even hear him undress, just the soft shuffle of fabric, the sound of his belt hitting the floor, the low curse under his breath when you bend over the edge of the bed.

He’s behind you a second later.

You feel him. Warm, solid, hard. His hands smooth over your hips, your thighs, spreading you open with a possessive grip.

“You like teasing me, huh?” he mutters, his voice thick, lips brushing your ear. “Walking around like that. Knowing I’d show up.”

You grind back against him just enough to make his breath hitch. “You always show up.”

His laugh is low, dark. “Because I know what this pussy tastes like.”

Then he drops to his knees.

You feel his mouth first. Warm, wet, and filthy. Dragging his tongue from your entrance up to your clit, slow and deliberate. You gasp, thighs trembling, fingers clenching the sheets.

He moans like he’s savoring every drop of you, his tongue lapping and sucking until you’re squirming, until your knees feel weak and your back arches without permission.

And then his fingers—two, thick and perfect, sliding inside you with ease. Curling just right. Pushing every button you forgot existed.

“Fuck, Jungkook…”

“That’s it,” he murmurs into your cunt. “Say my name.”

You do. Over and over.

Your moans fill the room, echoing off the walls like a song he knows by heart. You grind into his face, desperate, needy, shameless.

But he pulls back before you can finish.

You whimper, lifting your head to look back at him.

He wipes his mouth with his thumb, eyes dark with something dangerous. “You’re gonna take me so fucking well, baby.”

He strokes himself once, then twice, before grabbing your hips and lining up behind you.

“A spoiled little brat like you?” he groans, pushing inside, inch by inch. “You were made to be ruined.”

And god, he does.

He sinks in slow, deliberate, like he wants you to feel every inch of him stretching you open. And you do. Every fucking inch. Your hands grip the sheets, head falling forward as your mouth drops open in a soundless gasp.

“God, Jungkook…”

He groans, hips flush against your ass now, buried to the hilt. His hands grip your waist like he owns it, like he owns you.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he growls, dragging out slowly just to slam back in, making your legs jolt. “Missed this pussy.”

You can barely breathe.

He fucks you like he’s angry. Like you owe him. Like every roll of his hips is payback for every smirk, every tease, every time you walked past him like you didn’t need him.

Your body shakes with every thrust, skin clapping against skin, the room filled with the obscene sounds of sex and low curses.

“You wanna act like you don’t care?” he grits out, fingers digging into your hips. “Like I don’t fuck you better than anyone ever could?”

You cry out when he hits that spot, the one he always finds, like your body was made for him.

“You gonna walk away from me again?” he growls, voice wrecked, fucking into you harder now, unforgiving. “Let some other guy touch what’s mine?”

“N-no, fuck—”

You don’t even know what you’re saying anymore. You just shake your head, moaning, melting, unraveling under every filthy word, every punishing thrust.

“You’re mine,” he breathes, low in your ear now, his chest slick against your back. “Say it.”

You choke on a moan. “I’m yours.”

��Again.”

“I’m yours, fuck, I’m yours—”

He groans like he’s losing control, one hand sliding up to wrap around your throat, pulling your back to his chest. The angle makes you whimper, makes your toes curl, your eyes roll back.

“You feel that?” he whispers, grinding deeper, slower. “That’s how you beg without saying a word.”

You’re close.

So fucking close you’re shaking, nails clawing at the sheets, your body clenching around him so tight he swears under his breath.

“Cum for me,” he orders, voice rough, hand tightening on your throat just enough. “Be a good fucking girl and cum.”

And you do.

It hits you like a wave, loud, violent and blinding. Your legs tremble, your whole body shaking as the orgasm rips through you, soaking his cock, your moans turning shameless and broken.

“Fuck,” he grunts, hips stuttering, losing rhythm. “Gonna fill you up, baby. Take it—”

He throbs inside you, spilling deep, pulling your body back against his as he groans your name into your skin. His thrusts slow, messy, drawn-out until he’s spent and breathless.

Silence follows.

Just the sound of your panting, your bodies tangled, your skin flushed and marked.

And then his lips brush your shoulder.

“Still think I should’ve left?”

You laugh weakly, voice ruined. “Shut up.”

He pulls out slowly, and you wince, sensitive. You collapse on the bed, and he follows, arm thrown lazily over your waist, breathing steadying.

And in the quiet, with your body still buzzing and his cum dripping between your thighs, you hate how safe it feels.

How much you want him to stay.

How much he already knows he will.

Part 2? Probably yes.

[zegrasdrysdale]

Can you write about Nico dating a really famous actress, she is in House of the Dragon and in Dune, and now she is doing the press tour for the movie so she hasn't seen Nico in a while so to surprise him she goes to the stadium series and is at the family skate with him holding hands and being cute the whole time, so Nico is asked about their relationship the press conference after the game and he answered the question being a proud boyfriend, please? I love your writing

[ press pause ] n. hischier

paring : Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary : after being away for a few months filming and doing press for her projects, (Y/N) surprises boyfriend Nico at family skate before the Stadium Series

warning(s) : one suggestive comment but other than that, cute and fluffy

author’s note : this request has been sitting in my drafts bc i wasn’t very proud of it but i decided to let it see the light of day bc i miss the stadium series. pls lmk what y’all think (the entire press conference is completely made up for the sake of the fic btw)

༺═──────────────═༻

She needed a vacation by the time her tour ended in New York City. It’s exhausting doing a multi-month press tour for a show that wasn’t coming out until the summer. She knows she’ll have to go on another one anyway while the season is airing on HBO.

The idea didn’t enter her mind until she saw a billboard on the highway going into New York. It advertises the two NHL Stadium Series games that are happening in a few days.

When the games were announced a few months ago, she was already booked on the press tour for season two of House of the Dragon. Nico wanted her to come to the game against the Flyers but she wasn’t sure if she’d be in the area to go.

Turns out, she is. Since she’s in the area, she decides to surprise her captain boyfriend at family skate.

Cat Toffoli worked closely with a designer to make some jackets for the wives and girlfriends of the players for the Stadium Series. She even made sure to make one with a “13” on it, just in case.

She’s happy that she gets to put the jacket to use since she’s surprising Nico at family skate. Pressing pause on her press tour to support her boyfriend in what’s one of the most important games of his life was the best idea she’s had in a while. It’s been a long time since she has laced up the skates Nico bought her when they first got together during the 2021-2022 season. Tonight seems a good time.

An Uber takes her from her shared apartment with Nico in Hoboken to MetLife Stadium in East Rutherford once she's in something that she can comfortably skate in, which ends up being leggings, a red shirt, and her jacket that Cat had made for her. She grabs one of Nico's beanies out of the endless pile in his closet just in case her head gets cold.

She gets more excited the closer she gets to the football field turned hockey rink. She shakes with excitement when the Uber pulls into the player parking lot.

Cars are parked all over the place. She recognizes most of the cars that are parked. The Devils get the ice tonight for practice and family skate.

With her jacket wrapped tight around her and a duffel bag holding her skates, she heads in the back entrance. She shows her ID to the security guard, who gives her special credentials so everyone knows she’s allowed there and is allowed onto the ice.

She’s already late so she could pull off this surprise. All of the players and their families are out on the ice. With quick feet, she makes her way onto the field. Her duffel bag slung over her shoulder as she rushes to the rink.

As soon as she reaches the bench, someone tells, “Nice of you to join us!” She sits down so she can change into her skates. Jack skates by with a smile on his face. “He’s been hoping that you’d show up.”

Her eyes scan the ice to find her boyfriend. She finally is able to spot him as he skates over to her. Jack skates off and Nico takes his spot.

When her laces are tied, she stands up and Nico helps her over the boards. “You’re here?” he asks as she gains her balance on her skates. “I thought you were traveling today.”

“Decided to press pause so I could be here for you,” she tells him. “Wanted to support my boyfriend after all the supporting you’ve done for me.” Nico flashes his dimpled smile at her.

She takes in his appearance. He’s in full gear with his red practice jersey since they did practice before the families came onto the ice. He has on his Devils beanie with the pompom on top of his head. The eye black he has on his cheeks looks good.

Nico takes her hand and loosely laces their fingers. “I’m glad you came,” he says. “It wouldn’t have been the same if you weren’t here.”

“Your dad and sister came though,” she replies as Nico begins to skate backwards. He pulls her along and she manages to keep her balance by holding his hands. “I’m sure it would’ve been okay if I wasn’t able to come.”

He pulls her closer to him so her chest is pressed against his gear on his chest. Nico’s hands rest on her waist to make sure she doesn’t fall. “You’re the most important person in my life, schatzi,” he tells her. “It wouldn’t have been the same. I promise”

She smiles up at him.

Out of the corner of her eye, he notices all the cameras on the two of them. She’s not even surprised. She’s one of the world’s most known actresses and he’s the captain of the Devils. Reporters are probably getting all the pictures they can get.

Nico doesn't let go of her hand. He makes sure their fingers are locked the entire time she's on the ice.

It's easy to forget the world around her when she skates with Nico. She's so focused on Nico and Nico is so focused on her that it feels like they're the only two people in the world despite multiple pairs of eyes being on them and a bunch of cameras trained on them.

There's only a few minutes left of family skate when Nico decides that it would be a good idea to spin his girlfriend. When she's on the toe pick of her skates, because Nico thought it would be smart to get her figure skating skates, he grabs her hand and spins her around.

"Nico!" she gasps as she spins right into his arms. He wraps his arms around her waist "You can't just do that without warning me. What if I fell?"

He laughs against her ear. "You know I'll always have you," he tells her. "You would think that you'd be able to skate on your own by now."

She shakes her head as Nico kisses the swell of her ear. The smile that forms on her lips is involuntary since she's trying to be mad at Nico. "I don't think you understand that I skate maybe three times a year," she sighs. "My job doesn't involve skating like yours does."

Nico smiles and she looks up at him. "Have I ever told you how good you look on skates?" he asks. "Because this look does it for me. Hope you know that."

With a gentle shove from her, Nico backs away but always makes sure to keep a hand on her so she doesn't fall.

"You are so lucky that I love you," she says to Nico as she carefully turns to face him.

He hums and playfully rolls his eyes before he slides his hands up to cup her cheeks. His fingers are freezing, but she quickly pushes that thought out of her head when Nico pulls her in for a soft kiss. She can't help but smile as she returns the kiss.

It's very rare for Nico to show this type of affection in public let alone at a Devils event. They're both very shy about their relationship when it comes to the public eye, but sometimes a moment overwhelms them and they can't help it.

Like this moment. Center ice on the Stadium Series rink.

She wraps her arms around his waist for a little extra security. The last thing she wants to do right now is fall on her butt. She can hear all the snaps of the cameras the longer their lips are connected.

Nico breaks the kiss and smiles at her. She reaches up and pokes his dimple, which gets a laugh out of Nico.

"Alright, Dimple Lover," he says with a smile. "Let's go. I feel gross and sweaty. I need to shower."

"As long as I can join you if you decide to shower at home."

"We're going home right now."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

From the moment Nico scored on Sam Ersson thirty seconds into the game, she's been on her feet. It set the pace for the rest of the game. The Devils scored two goals every period, and Nico himself scored two goals on the night.

East Rutherford is on fire in the stands. They're cheering. It gets even louder when Nico is being interviewed by Emily Kaplan on a live mic and he says, "Thanks for showing up. It was fucking amazing- sorry."

He has the cutest smile on his face and waves at the crowd around him. The smile she already had on her face grows impossibly bigger.

When Nico heads down the tunnel to get out of his gear, she heads down to stand outside the media room so she can catch Nico before he goes in and does his post-game comments.

She's liking pictures of her and Nico from yesterday on Instagram. She replies to some of her mentions on Twitter. She even posts one of the pictures of her and Nico from yesterday when they were on the ice at family skate. Almost immediately, it begins blowing up on every single social media platform like her posts usually do when she posts Nico.

Minutes after she posts the picture, Nico comes walking down the stairs that lead to the hallway. He's back in Sopranos outfit, sans the jacket. The white tank hugs his body and shows off his arms. The cut he has under his eye completes the look.

Nico spots her before he turns into the media room. He says that he'll be in the room in a second. Then he walks over to his girlfriend.

"Hi, handsome," she says with a smile on her face. "Nice goals. Oh, I like this outfit too."

He leans down and steals a kiss. "Those goals were for you, schatzi," he whispers to her as he tucks her hair behind her ear. "I had to show off for my girl."

She smiles up at him and he mirrors it.

"Nico, we need you in here," someone says. "Nate's ready to go."

Nico nods and looks into the room. "Want to come watch?" he asks. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind."

With a nod, the two of them head into the room.

The reporters buzz as Nico walks up to the table to sit with Nate and she makes her way to an empty seat among the reporters. The woman she sits next to has a moment of panic and realization of who she is as the press conference gets underway.

One of the reporters in the front row asks, "Nate, was that celly after your goal planned?"

Nate laughs and nods. "Yeah, actually," he replies. The reporters in the crowd laugh. "Chris and I sat down and planned out a couple of different cellys just in case either of us scored. I happened to be the one to score, twice."

"Speaking of two goals, Nico," another reporter begins to say. "How do you feel after those goals you scored? Effing amazing?"

Nico smiles. "Yeah, it felt good, without the addition of another word that shouldn't have been said on live television," he replies with a very light laugh. "No, it feels good to score two goals coming off the All Star break. Took some time off, skated and worked on what I needed to, and, uh, I'm ready to have a good second half of the season."

They make eye contact and she smiles at him. One of the reporters notices that Nico's smile has gotten softer. "So, your goals have nothing to do with the fact that your girlfriend was here all weekend?" a third reporter asks.

"The fact that she was able to take time out of her incredibly busy schedule to be here means a lot to me, yeah," Nico says. "Being able to score a couple goals was me telling her that I was happy she was here."

"So it doesn't bother you that her presence this weekend has made multiple headlines and occasionally overshadowed the game?"

Nico scans the crowd and finds the reporter that asked the question. "I have never once thought that her being here this weekend overshadowed the game," he replies. "I am more than happy to have her here. If she makes a view headlines then oh well. She's one of the world's most well known and talented actresses, and I am proud to be her boyfriend. If that means that some of the attention is off of me then okay."

She smiles and bites her bottom lip as she watches Nico while he and Nate finish up the press conference with questions about the game.

One of the things she's always been worried about was completely overshadowing Nico and his career with hers. Now that she knows that he's proud of her accomplishments.

As soon as Nico is done, he makes a beeline right for her. She opens her mouth to say something but Nico quickly cuts her off with his lips. She giggles into the kiss and wraps her arms around his neck.

Cameras click around them but she doesn't care. Neither does Nico if he meant what he said.

"Nico," she laughs as she breaks the kiss. "This is your day. Enough about me. Stop making me a headline by kissing me in front of the cameras."

He smiles. "I don't care," he tells her. "I'll kiss you in front of a million cameras."

She shakes her head and pushes his hair out of his face. "You are insane," she tells him.

"You love it."

"I do."

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

have a request ? check out the guidelines !

wanna be added to the taglist ? fill out this form !

taglist : @dasiysthings @ithinkimokeei @equallyshaw @dancerbailey3 @love4lando @stony1386 @mangoluver @prettyinsatiable @ivy-34 @bunbunbl0gs

[lavendarr00]

I've been playing Dragon Age 2 with mods recently and wanted to share my list! 🤍 It's about 20 mods and vanilla friendly with a focus on improving graphics.

I adore the base game and wanted to only add mods that enhance what's already there and not deviate from vanilla designs too much. It's mostly lore friendly texture improvements for environments & companions.

Also, I play almost exclusively as mage Marian Hawke (the default female MC) so this list doesn't include many character creator mods (like hair, eyes, makeup, etc). I have a beefy PC so I don't experience performance issues but your experience may vary.

How to Install DA2 Mods:

It's actually really easy! Watch this video for more details. For most mods, and for all of the mods in this list, all you need to do is extract the archive and move it into the game's overwrite folder. File path: Documents\BioWare\Dragon Age 2\packages\core\override

I may update this list as I find more mods I try and love! Enjoy! 🤍

My DA2 Modlist:

Graphics

Ultimate HD Pack V2 Face Skins HD

Companions & NPCs

Unique Face Textures for Companions Unique Face Textures for Cassandra & Tallis Textures for CC - Eyebrow Add-On Fenris Blue Wraith Appearance - HR Face Texture Varric Tethras - Inquisition Mesh Varric Tethras - Inquisition Mesh - Body Replacer Younger Inquisition Cullen Rutherford Zevran Restoration Project

Quality of Life/Fixes

DA2 Epilogue Restoration and Fixes Backpack Mod - Inventory Increase No More Bloody Teeth

Armor

HD Mantle of The Champion Isabella True HD Armor Merill True HD Armor Fenris HR Lyrium Ghost & Blue Wraith Armor Fenris HR Lyrium Ghost - Cinematics and In Battle Witcher 3 Triss Armor for FemHawke Scarlet Robes as Home Finery and MOTA Replacer Orlesian Noble Light Armors

Read the the mod page descriptions in full and install all mod requirements!!

[celestialastronmy]

"Cullen Rutherford: Redemption Arc or PR Stunt?"

(Disclaimer I'm OK with Cullen. I just needed to slander him )

OH BOY, let me tell you about Cullen "I've Seen The Light" Rutherford, everyone's favorite problematic templar-turned-commander who somehow failed upward into one of the most powerful military positions in Thedas. Don't get me wrong—I GET why people love him. He's got that whole tortured golden boy thing going on, and his character design is basically "what if trauma was hot?" But let's talk about the MASSIVE narrative blindspot that is his redemption arc.

First of all, let's address the nug in the room: this man was literally part of a system that imprisoned and abused mages. And not just ANY part—he was actively complicit in Kirkwall, aka Magic Prison But Make It Worse™. Yes, he had his own trauma from the Ferelden Circle (which, valid), but using that trauma to justify participating in further oppression? That's gonna be a yikes from me, dawg.

But HERE'S where it gets really spicy: the way his redemption arc is structured is basically "Trauma Processing: The Ladies Edition." If you romance him? Congratulations! You're now his unofficial therapist AND girlfriend! The Inquisitor—particularly a female one(only elf or human bonus points if a mage)—becomes this weird combination of emotional support and validation dispenser. She has to carefully navigate his lyrium withdrawal, his past trauma, AND his current authority position, all while he... continues to be the commander of one of the most powerful military forces in Thedas? Make it make sense!

And can we talk about how his "redemption" never actually requires him to give up any real power? He goes from being a templar (power over mages) to being the commander of the Inquisition (power over... basically everyone). Where's the sacrifice? Where's the ACTUAL accountability? He gets to keep his sword and his status while everyone else does the emotional heavy lifting of helping him process his guilt. It's like he's playing redemption arc on easy mode with cheat codes enabled.

The writing treats his withdrawal from lyrium as this massive act of personal growth—and don't get me wrong, addiction recovery is HUGE. But it's wild how the narrative frames this personal health choice as somehow equivalent to addressing the systemic harm he participated in. It's giving "I stopped being actively terrible so now I'm automatically good" energy.

The most frustrating part? There's actually a really interesting story buried in here about power, accountability, and genuine redemption. But instead of diving deep into the messy reality of what it means to truly atone for participating in systemic oppression, we get... broody looks and chess metaphors. CHESS METAPHORS, people! Because apparently nothing says "I'm processing my role in magical fascism" like moving some pawns around.

Don't even get me STARTED on how the game treats his past actions as primarily a source of personal angst rather than, you know, actual harm that affected real people. His guilt becomes this weird form of character development currency that he gets to spend on being perceived as reformed without doing the actual work of material reparations.

Listen, I'm not saying Cullen is irredeemable. But his arc is basically "What if we took this man who participated in magical oppression and made him feel really bad about it... while still letting him keep all his institutional power and outsourcing all the emotional processing to the women around him?" It's the redemption arc equivalent of putting a Band-Aid on a broken leg and calling it healing.

And yes, I know someone's going to come at me with "but he changed!" Did he though? Or did he just switch from enforcing one power structure to enforcing another, while looking very handsome and troubled about it? Because from where I'm standing, it looks less like actual redemption and more like a really well-marketed rebrand.

The worst part? This is a missed opportunity to tell a story about ACTUAL accountability and transformation. Instead, we got "Hot Guy Feels Bad: The Adventure." Don't get me wrong—I still end up slightly tolerating him in every playthrough because the game basically requires it, but I'm not going to pretend this isn't some of the most privileged character development I've seen in modern gaming.

In conclusion: Cullen's redemption arc is basically what happens when you try to address systemic injustice with personal growth narratives and a really good haircut. It's giving "I've changed (but will face no real consequences and maintain all my institutional power while women do the emotional work of validating my growth)" realness. And that's the tea. Thank you for coming to my TED talk about problematic favs and the power structures they maintain.

(Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go replay Inquisition while aggressively side-eyeing every scene where someone has to process Cullen's feelings for him.)

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

‘Cosmic radio’ could find dark matter in 15 years

Scientists have designed a ‘cosmic radio’ detector which could discover dark matter in 15 years.

Scientists have designed a ‘cosmic radio’ detector which could discover dark matter in 15 years. 

Published today in Nature, scientists at King’s College London, Harvard University, UC Berkley and others have shared the foundation of what they believe will be the most accurate dark matter detector to date. 

Dark matter is the unobservable form of matter could make up as much as 85% of mass in the Universe, but scientists are not sure exactly what it is. 

Axions are one of the leading candidates for dark matter. These are tiny, weakly interacting particles that could exist in the universe – responsible for gravitational effects in space which cannot yet be explained. 

Axions are thought to have a frequency like a wave, but scientists do not know where they exist on the electromagnetic spectrum – though they are thought to range from kilohertz, a frequency that can be heard by humans, to the very high terahertz frequency. 

In the latest study, researchers explain how a detector which they dub a cosmic car radio, could alert scientists when it finds the frequency of the axion. Known as a Axion quasiparticle (AQ), the team believe it could help discover dark matter in fifteen years. 

The AQ is designed so its frequency can be transmitted into space, a frequency that would match with the axion. When it identifies and ‘tunes in’ to that frequency, it will emit very small amounts of light. AQ operates at the highest terahertz frequencies, which many researchers believe to be the most promising place to look for axions. 

Co-author Dr David Marsh, Ernest Rutherford Fellow at King’s College London, said: “We can now build a dark matter detector that is essentially a cosmic car radio, tuning into the frequencies of the wider galaxy until we find the axion. We already have the technology, now it’s just a matter of scale and time.” 

The team believe by creating a much larger piece of AQ material, they can create a functioning detector in five years. After that, they estimate it will take another decade of scanning the spectrum of high frequencies where dark matter is thought to be hiding before they find it. 

To create the quasiparticles, the researchers used manganese bismuth telluride (MnBi₂Te₄), a material known for its unique electronic and magnetic properties. This was shaved down to just a few two-dimensional layers of material layered on top of one another.  

Having developed the material over the past six years in the lab, Jian-Xiang Qiu, lead author from Harvard University said “Because MnBi₂Te₄ is so sensitive to air we needed to exfoliate it down to a few atomic layers to tune its properties accurately. This means we get to see this kind of interesting physics, and see how it interacts with other quantum entities like the axion.” 

Dr Marsh added: “This is a really exciting time to be a dark matter researcher. There are as many papers being published now about axions as there were about the Higgs-Boson a year before it was found. Theorists proposed that axions acted like a radio frequency in 1983 and we now know we can tune in to it – we’re closing in on the axion and fast.” 

[islahvnt]

Secretly you love this, do you even wanna' go free? Let me in the ring, I'll show you what that big word means

mentions: Yvonne, Ayaz, Vidal, Henry and Olivier tw: gore, violence, murder

The lights had never bothered her. If anything, they made it all the easier to slip in and out of the crowd of people that ventured into the open mouth of the Venue, and more specifically the Rutherfords. A cesspool of the cities most oblivious mingling without a thought about the demons they congregated with. If Hell offered an everglade of euphoria for the worst creatures the city held; the Venue would be the welcoming party. The leather skirt she wore clung tight to a lithe form. A snake among them, sidling up alongside the unsuspecting offering a glimpse of sweat and honey beneath the white lace of her crop top; leaving little to the imagination as she lured them beyond the lobby of a Rutherford hellscape and beyond. Without question, she teed up dealers with those willing to pay, and poured every elixir known to man that might otherwise inebriate those only looking for a night they’ll never remember.

Gather information; carve out a safe place for lips eager to spill all. She was little more than a pretty face to them; harmless. Good for a fuck, just a taste; all while she wove the design of their own demise between manicured fingertips.

As easily as she managed, there was no doubting the dire need to lash out that had simmered away since her initial release. Bound and muzzled by her mentors, Isla listened to Henry and Vidal because she wanted to. And subconsciously, in a grab for their approval. Their respect. It’s one of the few things she’s deigned to desire since the cold night two of the Rutherford's enforcers arrived at her fathers store to deliver the consequence of a failed payment. It was a fire that never dimmed, and one that Isla would prove was catching, even if it killed her. Even if she was just a pretty face.

A hand, as silken as the smoothes porcelain surface found its way beneath her skirt, squeezing the curve of her behind with a certain fervor that made her teeth grit. Pause. Her features soften as she glances across her shoulder at him, the glint of mischief in the sparkle of her eye that only becomes all the brighter as her manicured brow peaks “Where you going, baby?” She reads his lips over the reverberating thrum of drum and bass that called the club home. The blonde turns, instantly pressing her body into his, just to speak into the shell of his ear as she lifts the expensive bottle she was taking to a booth of loyalists. “To do my job. Someone around here has to make sure you’re all having a good night,” there’s something sickly sweet to the curvature of her voice, a flicker of venom that nobody ever saw coming. Yvonne Rutherford. The name had swelled an unspeakable cloud above them that they were entirely unaware of. A passing mention that perhaps nobody else would have thought to pick up, and yet Isla had. Perhaps the awful accent, or the pompous way in which they dressed, as loud as their voices - begging everyone close enough to believe they were something worth watching made them believe that there was too much to see, for anyone to truly be listening. Maybe they knew that their worth truly only extended to their looks; and not every moronic fucking thought that came to the front of their barely mature mind. She never missed a beat though. “How are you meant to make sure we’re having fun if you’re not here with us?” It doesn’t really land with her, though the fact that he and his friends are quickly jabbing each other with elbows makes it clear to her the kind of people they were. “You’re too pretty to be working like this..” he grinned and pulled her closer, pressing a finger beneath her chin to lift her gaze, “- I’d take care of you.” She could have gagged, openly, feeling her skin crawl in the same way that it always did. 

Gather information. Fuck that. 

White teeth scour her lesser lip, and doe hues flicked between them, and back to the bar. Beneath her heels, the sticky substance seeks to glue her to the spot and the tang of desire rears its ugly head as she sets the bottle on the table and offers a dazzling smile, “How about you take care of this for now..” The blonde drawls out, the briefest touch of fingertips across his leg, just a taste, “And then you take care of me later.” Hues linger just long enough for it to sink in, beneath his foolish demure of importance, “Both of you… take care of me later.” It’s all she says, plucking the phone from the table in front of him, to dial her own number before she tucks it safely into the pocket on the inside of his suit jacket. “I’ll call you when I finish,” —----------------

There are options. There are always options. But Isla had never been one to weigh them up equally. And the taste of being the only one to know only served to fill her drunk with the spark of desire that she felt beneath her bones once again. Proving herself was one thing, though she’d hoped that the things she wanted didn’t make her seem desperate to impress. Simply put, Isla Hunt knew what she was good at. And chaos tangled itself so tightly around her fingertips, it was impossible to ignore. “I’ll be out in five x.”

The club had emptied out and the lingering echo of all that went on within the four walls continued to ricochet as each lights dimmed out, as each of those she worked with said goodnight and left. The early hours always gave Isla the time she needed to herself - it suited her to be the last to leave, very few others were willing to deal with what could be waiting beyond the doors. But this time, Isla knew. The back door closes behind her, a heavy steel door upon rusting hinges and she perches upon the landing just long enough to light a cigarette. The cherry tip in the dark an ominous glow when one considered the horrors that lurked in the dark. Luckily, tonight, she intended to be that horror. The car pulls up. The darkened SUV worth more than everything she owns, and she cursed it to hell as her heels click against the steps and the doors of the vehicle swing open to reveal the two french soldiers. Unassuming, and stupid. They jeer. One waves a clear bag of white powder and the blonde feels a sting of disappointment at the notion of it. Inebriated, she didn’t hate.. But if they were high, it certainly took an ounce of fun out of it. The irony wasn’t entirely lost on her. The barely gone cigarette is crushed beneath the toe of her shoe as she slows to a stop, pressing a shoulder into the car and it’s clear enough that they’ve only got one thing on their mind. The press of damp lips meet her shoulder as the taller of the two draws an arm around her waist - the giggle that she elicits is hollow, but they don’t know that. Somewhere in the mess of powder, lips, teeth and the bottle of vodka she’d palmed off to them earlier, the cool leather of the backseat settles against her skin. It’s a wonder the two can barely see, though she supposes they’re built like bulls and couldn’t think for a second that they’d made a single wrong move in their attempt to run a very, very stupid play by the eyes and ears of the Rutherford organization. A rough hand curls in against the inside of her thigh, and she buries fingertips into the mess of blonde hair upon what she thinks might be the younger of the two before she speaks. A heavy breath, one among many to fog the windows just that little bit more. 

“Hey.. hey,” there’s velvet in the husk of her voice, as she thinks about how many times she’ll have to scrub her skin raw, and yet she continues, reaching for the bottle with one hand as she shifts just enough for the brute with blue eyes to draw her into his lap, the cramped backseat nothing that he clearly hasn’t maneuvered before. She draws the bottle to her lips, careful enough that the clear liquid slips through the gap without her ever really touching the rim of the bottle. Isla leans in, a hand pressed to his chest as she looks between the two. The tilt of her head portraying the same beautiful woman she’d become accustomed to being seen as, “How do you know Yvonne Rutherford’s address?”

Silence.

Something in her eyes changes. A flicker in the warmth of the fire burning. Once one of muted desire, turned to a raging inferno as realization dawned on them.

“It’ll be easy. She’s like an outlier of the family.. Nobody is paying her any fucking attention right now and I’ve been staking the place for weeks now.” “You’re insane.” Pause. “Wait till the boy’s find out we kidnapped and put Yvonne Rutherford six fucking feet under.”

The bottle she held already cracked; a detail she’d noted hours before and intended to get rid of before conversation had crept in like a little voice in her head, met the back of the center console with a deft shatter of glass, and everything within the confines of the car exploded. Isla’s hand still curled around the neck of the bottle as she drove the jagged edge into his gut, once... twice.... in the same breath that a hand curls around her neck and drags her to the other side of the backseat.

Her head connects with the window, tinnitus rupturing within her head as everything spins and she searches in the dark for clarity. It doesn’t matter where it is. All she knows is anger - anger and pure hatred. The air in her lungs rushing out as a fist buries itself somewhere in the pit of her stomach. Like hell - the blonde knew who she was, what she was; and among the monsters that reigned above her, Isla Hunt wasn’t one to be underestimated. She’d lost the bottle, and it rolled away beneath one of the chairs; but she didn’t need it. The shard she now gripped as she doubled over cut deeply into the palm of her hand, her own blood the same sacrifice she’d make over and over for the Rutherfords after they picked her up and gave her something to wield. They’d lost enough. Stars splinter her vision, and she feels the skin at her brow split, blood slipping to stain usually piercing eyes with a certain horror that she’d fight to see through. Instinctively, her hand flies up to protect her face and instead collides with a target she hadn’t been aiming for. Glass slices through flesh and she knows it’s a scar he’ll either wear for the rest of his life, or one that will never get a chance to heal. His scream ripples through the air and she knows it pierces the night beyond the cars cabin. “You fucking bitch, my eye..” His eye indeed. It hangs limp from his socket and the gnarly open wound a crevice of flesh and blood that she knows belongs to her now. Isla heaves a breath as he slows, perhaps conceding some kind of defeat. The other, slumped in his seat growing paler by the minute hadn’t served an ounce of fight since she carved open his gut. 

She feels a moment of relief slither into the tension in her back, but disappointment soon follows. All that bravado for fuck all. The blonde spits, a mix of blood and saliva and wipes at her mouth, crimson highlighting the white of her teeth even more than usual. “Fucking pigs.” It’s muttered beneath her breath, stained blonde hair catching against the drivers side headrest as she leans back to catch another breath; a mistake that she deeply regrets as she her side lights up, white hot with pain and the sound of a bullet fires off.  It’s deafening and whatever ringing she might have heard in her ears before hand was nothing compared to this. The hole the bullet had carved through the roof of the car only inches from the side of her head; a near miss. Unlike the shard of glass now broken off just beneath her ribs. The blonde gasps and finds she can’t draw a big enough breath, and where defeat might have come swiftly, it only surged her anger to boil over. “And here I was, considering leaving you alive to play messenger boy.” But with one heavy swing, the already bloodied glass buried itself in his neck. The blonde slumps back in his seat, and she watches quietly, as he drowns in his own blood and meets whatever devil hell sent for him. “The Rutherford’s send their fucking regards.”

—------------------ It’s with great effort that Isla pulls herself over the center console and into the front seat. She digs through the glove box, quick to snatch up the phone that definitely doesn’t belong to her - knocking an array of photographs to the floor in the process, only to dial her own number long enough to find her purse. Tucked away beneath the passenger seat, blood smears the leather, dark until it dries and becomes a piece of the upholstery, and true to the women’s ability to multitask, she flips over the photographs as she digs it free.

“I need your help. Venue. x.” 

She texts, hues flickering over each snapshot of Yvonne coming and going from her home in London. She doesn’t care what the time is; Isla knows Ayaz will be there.

And while she waits, she flips the vanity mirror down, drawing the edge of a shaky pinky finger around the edge of her lip, her opposing thumb pressing down on the trigger of her lighter, watching as it caught light in the dark of her resurgence. She would always be more than just a pretty face, but a pretty face didn’t hurt.

[leif-seong]

Name: Leif Seong

Birthdate and Age: October 13 / 25 Yrs Old

Preferred Pronouns: He/him

Faceclaim: Kang Yeosang

Profession: Socialite 

Loyalty: N/A

Designation: Submissive

Claim: N/A

Children: N/A

Neighborhood: Mount Verne

Sexuality: Homosexual

Kinks: Bondage, shibari, sensory deprivation, breath play, edging, toys, impact play, pain, feminine accessories

Anti-kinks: Watersports, vore, piercing, permanent marks or scarring

Biography:

The lights are on, but no one’s home. That’s what most people think when they meet Leif for the first time, mostly due to his friendly, unassuming disposition. He’s never had to work for much. Born the youngest of three children to a wealthy family and the only submissive among them, all Leif has known is being doted upon, spoiled with all the prettiest things a boy could want, and molded into the sweetest submissive a dominant could ever desire. 

He’s never known struggle, never questioned his futured, all of it laid out for him on a platter. Or rather, he was the one laid out in front of dominants his parents found to be reputable, rich, otherwise advantageous to bring into the family. Every standard placed upon Leif by his mother and father all aimed at this goal. They wanted him to have good grades, an impressive college degree, all to be more marketable, and Leif didn’t question this. They put him in violin lessons as a child so he could perform in front of friends and family, at recitals. Leif never questions any of it because he enjoys violin, and he likes going to school. He likes meeting people and making friends. 

Leif doesn’t even question it when his mother and father choose a partner for him. Warren Bentley Rutherford III is old money, with the kind of pedigree that makes Leif’s parents salivate. He’s handsome, educated, and set to inherit his mother’s millions alongside her luxury resort chain. A perfect match for the Seong family’s lighting company. Supplying statement chandeliers and other such pieces for an entire luxury hotel chain would bring the family into the next tax bracket. 

Amenable as always, Leif smiles and nods along. Until one day a question suddenly occurs to him. Is he actually happy? Only then does he realize that he isn’t sure what that means. 

[styleofdiamandis]

MUSIC VIDEO: BLUE

Directed by Charlotte Rutherford, the music video for Marina's track, "Blue," unfolds within the nostalgic landscape of Dreamland, the UK's oldest amusement park. Beyond its melodic allure, the video presents a curated visual experience, showcasing Marina's distinctive fashion choices against the backdrop of an iconic location.

For the opening sequence of the music video, the songstress graced the screen in an exquisite ensemble that set the tone for the entire visual experience.

Marina effortlessly blended sophistication with a touch of whimsy as she adorned Australian brand The Fifth Label's Just For Now white wrap dress, featuring a tasteful tie waist that added an elegant dimension to her look.

Adding a bold and avant-garde touch to her ensemble, Marina accessorized with the Kitti clear acetate cat-eye sunglasses from another Aussie label, Quay.

Elevating her ensemble to unparalleled heights of sophistication, Marina added the final brushstroke to her look with the Carlita vintage metallic silver leather pumps from Liudmila's Fall/Winter 2015 "Peranatoriana" collection.

Buckle up as we accompany M on a thrilling ride through Dreamland, where her fashion journey takes a dazzling turn. In a spectacular display of glitz and glamour, Marina emerges on the scene donning a silver sequined jumpsuit crafted by the emerging designer label, Isolated Heroes.

The sleeveless design allows Marina the freedom to move with unrestrained confidence, capturing the essence of the music video's energetic rhythm. The silver sequins catch the vibrant lights of the amusement park, creating a mesmerizing play of reflections that mirrors the joy and exuberance of the surroundings.

In the mystical realm of Dreamland, Marina transforms into a fortune teller, and her ethereal look is accentuated by the exquisite jewelry designs from Pandora, the esteemed sponsor of the video. Pandora's creations, known for their timeless elegance, adorn Marina's hands and wrists with a curated selection of bracelets and rings, each piece telling a story of its own.

Among the dazzling array of jewelry, Ma chose to grace her fingers with the Majestic Feathers bypass ring, a design that adds a touch of enchantment to the fortune teller aesthetic.

As the crescendo of "Blue" builds to its peak, the Welsh-Greek singer takes center stage in a high-energy dancing sequence, adorned in a show-stopping custom creation by emerging designer Paula Knorr. The sleeveless jumpsuit, crafted from red and purple lamé, becomes a visual symphony of movement and color, amplifying the dynamism of the music and Marina's electrifying performance.

This bespoke piece is a testament to Paula's innovative design sensibilities, drawing inspiration from her MA graduate collection to create a garment that seamlessly fuses boldness and grace.

[technicolorfamiliar]

Technicolor Familiar Watches Too Many Conrad Veidt Movies Part 4 of ?

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

The Wandering Jew, 1933 Dir. Maurice Elvey ⭐2.5/5 Watched Nov 30, Youtube Maybe it was my mood, maybe my expectations were too high, maybe it was the poor quality of the version I watched on Youtube, but I kept waiting for this movie to get better. It sort of did, eventually. The whole last act, especially Mathathias' powerful monologue during the courtroom/Inquisition scene, almost made up for the rest. I get what they were going for style-wise, but I think this kind of epic, mythical story could have benefited from some more grounded writing and performances. Either that or it should have gone harder in the other direction to be more impressionistic, more dreamlike. In the end I feel like it didn’t know what kind of movie it wanted to be.

Casablanca, 1942 Dir. Michael Curtiz ⭐4/5 Watched Dec 2, Max The balls they had to make this movie in 1942. I think the first time I saw this a few years ago I must not have been paying very close attention. This time around I definitely appreciated the whole thing a lot more. The cast, the production design, the lighting, the atmosphere are all pitch perfect. Why not 5 stars then? Maybe because I'm greedy and I want more. This is the only film on this list so far that I wouldn't mind being longer. I want to get to know all the supporting and side characters more. It's nice to see Connie with an ensemble of other excellent actors for a change. It really let him off the hook to be purely unlikeable and not have to carry the movie. As Strasser, he's ice cold with only the slightest trace of camp (which was much more pronounced in the previous year's All Through the Night). He played a lot of villains and unfortunately was typecast in these kinds of roles late in his career, but I think he finally got to showcase here his fervent contempt for the Nazis by playing this utterly icky guy with zero redeeming qualities. He understood the assignment.

Whistling in the Dark, 1941 Dir. S. Sylvan Simon ⭐2.75/5 Watched Dec 3, Archive.org This makes All Through the Night look like auteur cinema. But once again Connie sells it by being totally deadpan amongst all the slapstick tomfoolery. Love to see him with a bunch of underlings, especially at the beginning as they hatch their plan. It's clear he's having a lot of fun with his line delivery. Kind of wish there was more cult/con artist stuff for him to do, but the premise is enjoyable in an absurd way. I love the two ladies, Ann Rutherford and Virginia Grey; they sort of make up for how obnoxious Red Skeleton is. Most of the bits go on far too long though. My main take away from this movie is that I'll now be leaving every future interaction saying, "We part in radiant contentment."

Der Gang in die Nacht, 1921 Dir. F. W. Murnau ⭐2.5/5 Watched Dec 10, Archive.org It's been a minute since my last foray into silent Connie, so I wanted to watch Kreuzzug des Weibes which recently surfaced on Youtube only to have since mysteriously disappeared. Figures. So I watched this instead. A lot of these movies, silents and talkies, have rushed and disjointed endings and this is no exception. The restoration of the version on Archive is amazing, the quality is just beautiful. But I had a hard time connecting with this one, and I don't think it has anything to do with the expressionistic performances. I feel like they were maybe trying to say something about science vs art, while also throwing in messages about infidelity, etc. I don't know what I wanted, but this wasn't it. But I can't complain too much, Connie's romantic anguish is a thrill to watch. When he wakes up after recovering from surgery, his intensity is something else. It's crazy how palpable his performances are across so many years.

King of the Damned, 1935 Dir. Walter Forde ⭐3.5/5 Watched Dec 11, Archive.org This is only 3.5 because of the absolutely god awful quality of the version that's on Archive -- it's like someone did 18 shots of jäger, picked up a camcorder and recorded a bootleg of the movie on tv. It made me kind of seasick. Probably the worst copy of any of these movies I've seen so far. And that really sucks because I actually really liked the movie. It's surprisingly progressive in a way I wasn't expecting. The conversation it's trying to start about prison reform is still really relevant. And we get wet, sweaty, grimy shirtless Connie gently caressing other men in the jungle. I wish we had learned his name at the end, once the revolt was successful and the prisoners had control of the island, it would have been really satisfying for him to reclaim his identity again. But I also completely understand that it needed to not be about him, that he was committed to serving and advocating for the collective. Ugh, love it.

[smallsparkelectrical]

Lighting And Design In Rutherford

Title: Elevating Spaces: The Role of Lighting and Design in Rutherford

In the realm of architectural marvels and interior aesthetics, few elements possess the transformative power of lighting. Within the vibrant community of Rutherford, where innovation meets tradition, the interplay between lighting and design takes center stage, shaping the ambiance and character of its spaces.

At the heart of Small Spark’s philosophy lies the understanding that lighting and Design in Rutherford is more than mere illumination — it is an art form, capable of evoking emotions, guiding experiences, and accentuating architectural features. Whether it’s a cozy residential setting or a dynamic commercial establishment, Small Spark approaches each endeavor with a keen eye for detail and a dedication to exceeding expectations.

In the realm of commercial design, lighting in Rutherford takes on a multifaceted role, shaping brand identities and fostering memorable experiences. Small Spark understands the intricate dynamics at play within commercial environments, where lighting not only showcases products and services but also influences customer perceptions and behaviors. Through strategic lighting layouts and innovative fixtures, they empower businesses to make impactful impressions, enticing patrons and cultivating atmospheres that resonate long after they’ve departed.

Moreover, Small Spark Electrical Contracting stands as a testament to Rutherford’s spirit of innovation and excellence. As a trusted partner in the community’s architectural landscape, they contribute to the ongoing evolution of spaces, redefining boundaries and pushing the boundaries of what is possible.

In essence, the marriage of lighting and design in Rutherford finds its perfect union in the expertise of Small Spark Electrical Contracting. With a blend of artistry, technical prowess, and unwavering dedication, they illuminate the path to inspired living and unparalleled experiences, enriching the fabric of Rutherford one light at a time.

[cleverhottubmiracle]

108 The Met Gala‘s celebrations are kicking off early! This weekend, numerous events welcomed stars flocking to New York City before the first Monday in May. Similarly to the soirées held in advance of New York Fashion Week, a surprising flurry of special events revolving around fashion, beauty, and more took the city by storm. Whether uptown or downtown, one thing’s for sure: these parties kept everyone in high spirits! Wayman + Micah Dance The Night Away At The Gansevoort Hotel On the eve of the Met Gala, our FLA’s Men’s Stylist of the Year honorees Wayman Bannerman and Micah McDonald took over Dimes Seven24 at the Gansevoort Hotel for a groovy bash. The dynamic styling duo behind Wayman + Micah partied late into the night with their star pals and stylish muses, including Colman Domingo and Taraji P. Henson. The evening was complete with attendees snapping themed photo booth pics, sipping on Tequila Don Julio cocktails, and busting moves under the disco ball to beats by Dj Huneycut and Brian Henry! Guests inside the packed soirée included Maeve Reilly, Jodie Turner Smith, Dascha Polanco, Brandon Blackwood, Christian Siriano, Joshua Uduma, Jimmy Akingbola, Zarina Yeva, Ashley Baptiste, Angelica Cantu, Cassandra DelValle, and more. Colman Domingo, Micah McDonald, Taraji P. Henson, and Wayman Bannerman (Zeus Views) “Black Hair Reimagined” Brings A Burst Of Beauty To FiDi WSA received a burst of empowered beauty on Friday, thanks to the first “Black Hair Reimagined: The New Era of Beauty” hair show. Hosted by Tracee Ellis Ross, the special evening was crafted by Echelon Noir Production’s Jawara Wauchope and Jarrod Lacks to highlight the variety of Black hair, avant-garde design, and the creativity of Black hairstylists. Said hairstylists were core to the event, which featured a runway production spotlighting styled by Vernon François, Cyndia Harvey, Jawara Wauchope, Yusef Williams, and Malcolm Marquez using Kérastase, Redken, and True + Pure Texture products. Star talents were also behind the evening’s standout beauty and fashion moments, courtesy of Sir John, Sheika Daly, Carlos Nazario, Gabriella Karefa-Johnson, Patti Wilson, Jan-Michael Quammie, Jessica Willis, Dawn Sterling, Carol Ai Studio Tailor, Malisa Browman, and Lindsay Wright. During the show, attendees including Paloma Elsesser, Solange, Justine Skye, Kelsey Lu, Bevvy Smith, Ian Isiah, Selah Marley, Raul Lopez, Maximilian, Kingsley Gbadegesin, IB Kamara, Fai Khadra, Peyton Dixon, Hunter Harris, and Kayra Theodore cheered as top models Anok Yai, Julez Smith, Alton Mason, and Jordan Daniels hit the runway. The night closed with a splashy afterparty, complete with plenty of Ten to One Rum cocktails and Mind Games fragrances. Alton Mason (Sansho Scott) Bergdorf Goodman Fetes Maximillian Davis & Ferragamo Cheers! Ferragamo‘s creative director Maximillian Davis was the guest of honor at a special Bergdorf Goodman cocktail party thrown by Linda Fargo. Held within the always-chic Goodman’s restaurant, the affair found Davis front and center while toasting his Pre-Fall 2025 collection’s launch and exclusive shoe capsule at the luxury retailer. The event found attendees—many with their best Hug bags and own beloved Ferragamo bow flats and pumps—sipping wine and champagne while enjoying arancini, tuna tartare cones, and more light bites. The night’s chic guest list included Tracee Ellis Ross, LaKeith Stanfield, Paloma Elsesser, Beverly Nguyen, Chrissy Rutherford, Deon Hinton, Isaac Hindin-Miller, Brenda Weischer, Charlotte Groenveld, Luke Meagher, Natalie Lim Suarez, George Fountas, Daniella Vitale, Pam Nasr, Vanessa Hong, Tracy Margolies, Yumi Shin, and more. All images: Zach Hilty/BFA.com Wales Bonner Brings Artistic Communities & Music To The Guggenheim Art is always an inspiration for Grace Wales Bonner of Wales Bonner—so much so that the designer’s namesake label put on its second “Togetherness” party at the Guggenheim New York on Saturday night. The event, which celebrated the power of human connection, featured various musical performances by in the museum’s main level and elegant theater, including Etran de L’Air, The Joy, Amaarae, Fireboy DML, Navy Blue, Sir Rashad Ringo Smith, keiyaA, The Caveman, DJ Ade “Acyde” Odunlami, and Akanbi. The evening also overlapped with the Guggenheim’s new exhibit “Rashid Johnson: A Poem for Deep Thinkers,” featuring almost 90 pieces from Johnson’s assortment of sculpture, film, text, painting, and video work over the years. Sponsored by Android and Lagavulin Single Malt Scotch Whisky, attendees grooved across the museum’s four levels while enjoying whiskey cocktails. Attendees included Leon Bridges, Henry Golding, Paloma Elsesser, Rashad Ringo Smith, Akanbi, Stefon Diggs, Bethann Hardison, Dapper Dan, Tyler Mitchell, Eric N. Mack, Antoine Gregory, Alexander Roth, Alioune Badara Fall, Charlie Mitchell, Connor McKnight, Delfin Finley, Deon Hinton, Devin B. Johnson, Gilly Chan, Hannah Traore, Hiandra Martinez, Ian Jeffrey, Aurora James, Luke Meagher, Benito Skinner, Bernie Martinez Ocasio, Bianca Saunders, Ibrahim Kamara, Indira Scott, Jalil Johnson, Jordan Casteel, Julez Smith, Keith Powers, Kimberly Drew, Kyler Gordon, Lamar Johnson, Lineisy Montero, Ludovic Nkoth, Malick Bodian, Marcus Paul, Maurice Kamara, Michael Armitage, Miles Greenberg, Ming Smith, Nicholas Daley, Quil Lemons, Ryan Destiny, Selah Marley, Sophia Wilson, Soukeyna Diouf, Stella Lucia, Tanner Reese, Toyin Ojit Odutola, David Ruff, Turiya Adkins, Venus X, Woldy Reye, Max Berlinger, and more. All images: Hannah Turner Harts/BFA.com Olivier Rousteing Toasts To His Futuristic Johnnie Walker Collab Fashion and cocktails are a perfect mix—just ask Olivier Rousteing! The Balmain creative director teamed up with Johnnie Walker to collaborate on a slick new blend for the luxe whiskey brand. The duo’s gilded bottle was enjoyed by guests into the former space of Sleep No More, transported with strobe lights, blue carpets, and a hologram display into the Johnnie Walker Vault. During the soirée, Rousteing unveiled the new bottle to a packed crowd, who enjoyed an assortment of Johnnie Walker Blue Label martinis, Moscow mules, and more while dancing to beats by Papi Juice’s DJ Oscar Nñ. Guests included Lupita Nyong’o, Jon Kortajarena, Priyanka Chopra Jonas, Nicky Hilton, Burna Boy, Darren Criss, Enrique Melendez, Henry Golding, Hunter Schafer, Jeremy O. Harris, Jessica Andrews, Regé-Jean Page, Stormzy, Micaela Erlanger, and many more. All images: Getty Images for Johnnie Walker Blended Scotch Whisky Subscribe to our newsletter and follow us on Facebook and Instagram to stay up to date on all the latest fashion news and juicy industry gossip. // Allow detecting when fb api is loaded. function Deferred() var self = this; this.promise = new Promise( function( resolve, reject ) self.reject = reject; self.resolve = resolve; ); window.fbLoaded = new Deferred(); window.fbAsyncInit = function() FB.init( appId : '374762726405868', autoLogAppEvents : true, xfbml : true, version : 'v3.0' ); window.fbLoaded.resolve(); ; (function(d, s, id) var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); js.id = id; js.src = " fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); (document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk')); Source link

[norajworld]

108 The Met Gala‘s celebrations are kicking off early! This weekend, numerous events welcomed stars flocking to New York City before the first Monday in May. Similarly to the soirées held in advance of New York Fashion Week, a surprising flurry of special events revolving around fashion, beauty, and more took the city by storm. Whether uptown or downtown, one thing’s for sure: these parties kept everyone in high spirits! Wayman + Micah Dance The Night Away At The Gansevoort Hotel On the eve of the Met Gala, our FLA’s Men’s Stylist of the Year honorees Wayman Bannerman and Micah McDonald took over Dimes Seven24 at the Gansevoort Hotel for a groovy bash. The dynamic styling duo behind Wayman + Micah partied late into the night with their star pals and stylish muses, including Colman Domingo and Taraji P. Henson. The evening was complete with attendees snapping themed photo booth pics, sipping on Tequila Don Julio cocktails, and busting moves under the disco ball to beats by Dj Huneycut and Brian Henry! Guests inside the packed soirée included Maeve Reilly, Jodie Turner Smith, Dascha Polanco, Brandon Blackwood, Christian Siriano, Joshua Uduma, Jimmy Akingbola, Zarina Yeva, Ashley Baptiste, Angelica Cantu, Cassandra DelValle, and more. Colman Domingo, Micah McDonald, Taraji P. Henson, and Wayman Bannerman (Zeus Views) “Black Hair Reimagined” Brings A Burst Of Beauty To FiDi WSA received a burst of empowered beauty on Friday, thanks to the first “Black Hair Reimagined: The New Era of Beauty” hair show. Hosted by Tracee Ellis Ross, the special evening was crafted by Echelon Noir Production’s Jawara Wauchope and Jarrod Lacks to highlight the variety of Black hair, avant-garde design, and the creativity of Black hairstylists. Said hairstylists were core to the event, which featured a runway production spotlighting styled by Vernon François, Cyndia Harvey, Jawara Wauchope, Yusef Williams, and Malcolm Marquez using Kérastase, Redken, and True + Pure Texture products. Star talents were also behind the evening’s standout beauty and fashion moments, courtesy of Sir John, Sheika Daly, Carlos Nazario, Gabriella Karefa-Johnson, Patti Wilson, Jan-Michael Quammie, Jessica Willis, Dawn Sterling, Carol Ai Studio Tailor, Malisa Browman, and Lindsay Wright. During the show, attendees including Paloma Elsesser, Solange, Justine Skye, Kelsey Lu, Bevvy Smith, Ian Isiah, Selah Marley, Raul Lopez, Maximilian, Kingsley Gbadegesin, IB Kamara, Fai Khadra, Peyton Dixon, Hunter Harris, and Kayra Theodore cheered as top models Anok Yai, Julez Smith, Alton Mason, and Jordan Daniels hit the runway. The night closed with a splashy afterparty, complete with plenty of Ten to One Rum cocktails and Mind Games fragrances. Alton Mason (Sansho Scott) Bergdorf Goodman Fetes Maximillian Davis & Ferragamo Cheers! Ferragamo‘s creative director Maximillian Davis was the guest of honor at a special Bergdorf Goodman cocktail party thrown by Linda Fargo. Held within the always-chic Goodman’s restaurant, the affair found Davis front and center while toasting his Pre-Fall 2025 collection’s launch and exclusive shoe capsule at the luxury retailer. The event found attendees—many with their best Hug bags and own beloved Ferragamo bow flats and pumps—sipping wine and champagne while enjoying arancini, tuna tartare cones, and more light bites. The night’s chic guest list included Tracee Ellis Ross, LaKeith Stanfield, Paloma Elsesser, Beverly Nguyen, Chrissy Rutherford, Deon Hinton, Isaac Hindin-Miller, Brenda Weischer, Charlotte Groenveld, Luke Meagher, Natalie Lim Suarez, George Fountas, Daniella Vitale, Pam Nasr, Vanessa Hong, Tracy Margolies, Yumi Shin, and more. All images: Zach Hilty/BFA.com Wales Bonner Brings Artistic Communities & Music To The Guggenheim Art is always an inspiration for Grace Wales Bonner of Wales Bonner—so much so that the designer’s namesake label put on its second “Togetherness” party at the Guggenheim New York on Saturday night. The event, which celebrated the power of human connection, featured various musical performances by in the museum’s main level and elegant theater, including Etran de L’Air, The Joy, Amaarae, Fireboy DML, Navy Blue, Sir Rashad Ringo Smith, keiyaA, The Caveman, DJ Ade “Acyde” Odunlami, and Akanbi. The evening also overlapped with the Guggenheim’s new exhibit “Rashid Johnson: A Poem for Deep Thinkers,” featuring almost 90 pieces from Johnson’s assortment of sculpture, film, text, painting, and video work over the years. Sponsored by Android and Lagavulin Single Malt Scotch Whisky, attendees grooved across the museum’s four levels while enjoying whiskey cocktails. Attendees included Leon Bridges, Henry Golding, Paloma Elsesser, Rashad Ringo Smith, Akanbi, Stefon Diggs, Bethann Hardison, Dapper Dan, Tyler Mitchell, Eric N. Mack, Antoine Gregory, Alexander Roth, Alioune Badara Fall, Charlie Mitchell, Connor McKnight, Delfin Finley, Deon Hinton, Devin B. Johnson, Gilly Chan, Hannah Traore, Hiandra Martinez, Ian Jeffrey, Aurora James, Luke Meagher, Benito Skinner, Bernie Martinez Ocasio, Bianca Saunders, Ibrahim Kamara, Indira Scott, Jalil Johnson, Jordan Casteel, Julez Smith, Keith Powers, Kimberly Drew, Kyler Gordon, Lamar Johnson, Lineisy Montero, Ludovic Nkoth, Malick Bodian, Marcus Paul, Maurice Kamara, Michael Armitage, Miles Greenberg, Ming Smith, Nicholas Daley, Quil Lemons, Ryan Destiny, Selah Marley, Sophia Wilson, Soukeyna Diouf, Stella Lucia, Tanner Reese, Toyin Ojit Odutola, David Ruff, Turiya Adkins, Venus X, Woldy Reye, Max Berlinger, and more. All images: Hannah Turner Harts/BFA.com Olivier Rousteing Toasts To His Futuristic Johnnie Walker Collab Fashion and cocktails are a perfect mix—just ask Olivier Rousteing! The Balmain creative director teamed up with Johnnie Walker to collaborate on a slick new blend for the luxe whiskey brand. The duo’s gilded bottle was enjoyed by guests into the former space of Sleep No More, transported with strobe lights, blue carpets, and a hologram display into the Johnnie Walker Vault. During the soirée, Rousteing unveiled the new bottle to a packed crowd, who enjoyed an assortment of Johnnie Walker Blue Label martinis, Moscow mules, and more while dancing to beats by Papi Juice’s DJ Oscar Nñ. Guests included Lupita Nyong’o, Jon Kortajarena, Priyanka Chopra Jonas, Nicky Hilton, Burna Boy, Darren Criss, Enrique Melendez, Henry Golding, Hunter Schafer, Jeremy O. Harris, Jessica Andrews, Regé-Jean Page, Stormzy, Micaela Erlanger, and many more. All images: Getty Images for Johnnie Walker Blended Scotch Whisky Subscribe to our newsletter and follow us on Facebook and Instagram to stay up to date on all the latest fashion news and juicy industry gossip. // Allow detecting when fb api is loaded. function Deferred() var self = this; this.promise = new Promise( function( resolve, reject ) self.reject = reject; self.resolve = resolve; ); window.fbLoaded = new Deferred(); window.fbAsyncInit = function() FB.init( appId : '374762726405868', autoLogAppEvents : true, xfbml : true, version : 'v3.0' ); window.fbLoaded.resolve(); ; (function(d, s, id) var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); js.id = id; js.src = " fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); (document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk')); Source link

[realjaysumlin]

Adam Rutherford: How To Argue With A Racist | RNZ

I will never call light skin humans white because there's no such thing as white people; in reality it's a destructive system that is designed to destroy everything African and Black and Black Indigenous.

The notion of categorizing individuals by skin color as a representation of race is profoundly misguided. It is disheartening to witness a lack of understanding regarding the fundamental principles of human reproduction and the true essence of what defines a species.

People are often swayed by prevailing societal ideologies, revealing a troubling level of ignorance and carelessness. It is crucial to resist the influence of those who would have us accept easily debunked notions, especially when the evidence of our shared humanity is so apparent in our interactions with one another across the globe. The superficial differences in skin tone are inconsequential to our identity as human beings.

Our origins trace back to dark-skinned Africans, and the variations in skin color we observe today are adaptations to diverse environments and diets influenced by sunlight. This phenomenon is rooted in the science of photosynthesis, underscoring that our differences are merely a reflection of environmental adaptation rather than a basis for division.

I don't care about anyone's opinion or feelings because you are a complete dumbass to accept such nonsense and someone has to stand up and start calling you dumb mother fuckers out. You are absolute idiots, that needs your fucking heads examined to even believe in something that is profoundly disgusting and false.

[putrefacion]

MY LORD, ADAM, ARISE, GIVE ME THE HALF OF YOUR DISEASE, & LET ME BEAR IT, BECAUSE THROUGH ME THIS HAS HAPPENED TO YOU; THROUGH ME YOU ARE IN DISTRESSES & TROUBLES, — [ APOCALYPSE OF MOSES; THE OLD TESTAMENT PSEUDEPIGRAPHA, TRANSLATED BY JAMES H. CHARLESWORTH ]

THE LIFE OF ADAM & EVE [ OR, APOCALYPSE OF MOSES ] IS A POST-EDENIC TEXT WHERE EVE IS HAUNTED BY THE MAGNITUDE OF WHAT SHE BELIEVES SHE’S DONE. SHE DOESN'T BLAME GOD, ADAM, OR EVEN THE SERPENT; INSTEAD, SHE BEGS FOR THE PUNISHMENT TO FALL ON HER ALONE, PRAYS THAT ADAM MIGHT BE SPARED, THAT HER OWN BODY MIGHT ABSORB THE FULL CONSEQUENCE. HER GUILT LOOPS ENDLESSLY & HER LOVE FOR ADAM IS INSEPARABLE FROM THAT GUILT; NOT ONLY DOES SHE WANT HIM TO SURVIVE, SHE ALSO NEEDS TO BE SEEN BY HIM AS SOMEONE WORTH KEEPING, & THIS IS A BIG INSPIRATION FOR LUTE’S CHARACTERIZATION, [ EVEN BACK WHEN I WAS AIMING TO WRITE HER AS THE TRUE & ONLY MOTHER OF ALL LIVING, ] — WHETHER OR NOT SHE ACTUALLY SINNED IS IRRELEVANT; THE EMOTIONAL IMPRINT OF FAILURE REMAINS EMBEDDED INTO HER VERY CODE. SHE IS THE CORRECTION TO EVE; A TOOL DESIGNED TO UNDO WHAT HAS BEEN DONE, & SHE STILL BELIEVES SHE HASN’T EARNED THE RIGHT TO BE FORGIVEN, THAT SHE’S NOT WORTHY OF IT. HER DEVOTION TO ADAM IS SANCTIFIED MADNESS; NOT MERELY TO SERVE HIM, BUT TO PROVE SHE’S MORE THAN HER FAILURE… EVEN IF SHE WAS DESIGNED TO FAIL,

BONUS INSP BELOW THE CUT,

'O GOD, FORGIVE ME MY SIN, THE SIN WHICH I COMMITTED, & REMEMBER IT NOT AGAINST ME. FOR I ALONE CAUSED THY SERVANT TO FALL FROM THE GARDEN INTO THIS LOST ESTATE; FROM LIGHT INTO THIS DARKNESS; & FROM THE ABODE OF JOY INTO THIS PRISON. O GOD, LOOK UPON THIS THY SERVANT THUS FALLEN, & RAISE HIM FROM HIS DEATH, THAT HE MAY WEEP & REPENT OF HIS TRANSGRESSION WHICH HE COMMITTED THROUGH ME. TAKE NOT AWAY HIS SOUL THIS ONCE; BUT LET HIM LIVE THAT HE MAY STAND AFTER THE MEASURE OF HIS REPENTANCE, & DO THY WILL, AS BEFORE HIS DEATH. BUT IF THOU DO NOT RAISE HIM UP, THEN, O GOD, TAKE AWAY MY OWN SOUL, THAT I BE LIKE HIM; & LEAVE ME NOT IN THIS DUNGEON, ONE & ALONE; FOR I COULD NOT STAND ALONE IN THIS WORLD, BUT WITH HIM ONLY. FOR THOU, O GOD, DIDST CAUSE A SLUMBER TO COME UPON HIM, & DIDST TAKE A BONE FROM HIS SIDE, & DIDST RESTORE THE FLESH IN THE PLACE OF IT, BY THY DIVINE POWER. & THOU DIDST TAKE ME, THE BONE, & MAKE ME A WOMAN, BRIGHT LIKE HIM, WITH HEART, REASON, & SPEECH; & IN FLESH, LIKE UNTO HIS OWN; & THOU DIDST MAKE ME AFTER THE LIKENESS OF HIS COUNTENANCE, BY THY MERCY & POWER. O LORD, I & HE ARE ONE & THOU, O GOD, ART OUR CREATOR, THOU ARE HE WHO MADE US BOTH IN ONE DAY. THEREFORE, O GOD, GIVE HIM LIFE, THAT HE MAY BE WITH ME IN THIS STRANGE LAND, WHILE WE DWELL IN IT ON ACCOUNT OF OUR TRANSGRESSION. BUT IF THOU WILT NOT GIVE HIM LIFE, THEN TAKE ME, EVEN ME, LIKE HIM; THAT WE BOTH MAY DIE THE SAME DAY,' & EVE WEPT BITTERLY, & FELL UPON OUR FATHER ADAM; FROM HER GREAT SORROW, — [ THE FORGOTTEN BOOKS OF EDEN, BY RUTHERFORD H. PLATT JR ]

[jian-wei-24]

F.M.P Pre-production: (Forefront [Ahmed Albaqlawa] )

Figure 1: Ahmed Albaqlawa's The Ship Engineer's Apartment (Albaqlawa, 2025)

For this forefront research, I decided to read through Ahmed Albaqlawa’s breakdown of the Ship Engineer’s Apartment project and came away inspired by how he blended Victorian and steampunk elements into a lived in environment. I picked this article because I will also be combining Asian and Western cultures into an environment. So, by reading this article, I hope to learn some insights on how he combines art elements and more about his development pipeline.

Figure 2: Modular pieces developed by Ahmed Albaqlawa. (Albaqlawa and Rutherford, 2025)

He started by finding the perfect concept art and then built a modular architecture kit around a 200 by 200 centimetre floor piece. Watching how he created pipe kits and organised his props into large, medium and small categories really showed me how smart modular planning can make a big difference in consistency and efficiency.

Figure 3: All of the props used in Ahmed Albaqlawa's environment.(Albaqlawa and Rutherford, 2025)

His approach to texturing was also very impressive. By grouping objects into shared texture sets, he maintained a clean Texel density across everything, from big props like the drafting table to smaller items like stacks of books. He used Substance Designer for the tile-able floor and wall materials, then added hand painted wear and tear in Substance Painter. I plan to take this lesson and apply it to my own work, especially for detailed surfaces like Peranakan tiles and exterior walls. There shouldn't be too much obvious weathering as the building in my environment will be a newly constructed building.

Video 1: Ahmed Albaqlawa's experience with Translucent Coloured Shadows. (80lv, 2025)

One of the most memorable parts was how he handled the stained glass material. Ahmed experimented with different techniques like light functions and blueprint projections before deciding on a translucent material with subsurface scattering. It achieved a beautiful soft glow without the need for heavy rendering techniques like path tracing. Although stained glass material was introduced to the specific era's shop houses type that I planned to make, I previously had no plans to do so. However, after reading Albaqlawa's work and experimenting, I might give it a try during the develop of my final master project.

Seeing Ahmed’s workflow has given me a clearer path for my own project, especially about tips on how to careful modular design based on lots of real life images, and thoughtful texturing methods to ensure Texel density is proper. All these tips and tricks can bring an environment to life, such as in seen in Ahmed Albaqlawa's final render in figure 1.

Reference

Albaqlawa, A. and Rutherford, A. (2025). Breakdown: Cozy Ship Engineer’s Apartment. [online] 80.lv. Available at: https://80.lv/articles/breakdown-cozy-ship-engineer-s-apartment/ [Accessed: 5 April 2025].