#his suit at the sag awards is so nice

[stevenrogered]

Aunt May talking to Peter | The Amazing Spider-Man 2 (2014) Sally Field talking about Andrew Garfield | SAG Awards (2023)

[forever-fixating]

The awaited ask, the prompt for yall to chew on:

Austin is always impeccably dressed, but at the SAG awards his suit was Gucci (as were many other stars' outfits). Him and his red suit? Lordy this is an excuse to describe it in detail. I triple dog dare ya.

This is a Gucci designer!reader, and I think it'd be nice if she worked on the House of Gucci film set, has been papped with some actors (in which her 60s/70s style was commented on) before as well as been to some award shows relating to that--maybe has Gaga's number, play with it how you will. She's famous adjacet: her job is to make others look pretty.

Her purview is mainly in being an archivist for Gucci's collection, and her personal design and style leans more towards vintage, as mentioned. So when Gucci dresses the new Elvis? They need some 1970s inspiration, and they send Austin Butler to her. Cue reader lowering massive shades down her nose and commenting on his tiny waist.

Author’s Note- Okay, as soon as Mother Monster was mentioned, I fell down a research rabbit hole about one of her stylists, Marta del Rio. The reader doesn’t work for Gucci (sorry!), but I did tie that into her backstory. Del Rio, Erin Parsons on TikTok, and Raissa Bretaña from Glamour are the primary inspirations for this character. I hope you enjoy all the same!

 Y/N Y/L/N is a fashion historian and celebrity stylist. Born in Florence and raised in Los Angeles, she developed her love for fashion under the tutelage of her legendary mother, one of the significant archivists for Gucci. She grew up on her father’s film sets and fell in love with all things Hollywood. Known for her vintage style, quick wit, and extraordinary kindness (a rarity in the fashion industry), Y/L/N can be seen on TikTok and her YouTube channel, sharing her love for all things fashion and Hollywood with her audience of millions.

-Blurb from The Bella Rosa Agency

You walked into your office that morning more than a little frazzled. Even under the best conditions, traffic in Los Angeles was hell to navigate, and you had the misfortune of getting stuck behind a massive pile-up. The Italian in you could not understand the American need to rush everywhere. Wherever a person was going would still be there, no matter how fast or slow they drove. You gave your assistant Kitty a grateful smile as she held out your usual coffee order: a latte with very little foam, a double espresso, and two pumps of hazelnut.

“You are a lifesaver,” you said as you sipped the drink. “What’s on the schedule for today?”

Kitty followed you into your office with her iPad, saying, “There’s the Q & A for your YouTube channel at noon and the phone interview with Paper at four. And your consultation with Zendaya got pushed to next week. She’s still filming for Dune and won’t return until Tuesday.”

“That’s too bad,” you said, sitting at your desk and booting up your laptop.

“But Stefani’s in town,” Kitty continued, “and wants to do dinner. Your choice!”

You grinned. The two of you had met when you were hired to work on House of Gucci due to your mother’s work with the brand. They had initially reached out to her, but she put them off. Her marriage to your father had soured her on Hollywood. You, however, jumped at the chance when she recommended you in her place. You adored her music and outrageous style and became fast friends during filming. Working with Lady Gaga (or Stefani, as she insisted you call her) was a dream come true.

“Fantastic!” you replied. “Call her and ask her the day and time. Providence has a table for me on standby.”

You began reading your e-mails when you noticed Kitty hadn’t left yet. Embarrassed, you asked, “Sorry, was there something else?”

“Zendaya was wondering if you could help out one of her costars,” Kitty said. She looked at her iPad, reading, “Austin Butler, the guy that used to date Vanessa Hudgens? He’s starring in the new Elvis biopic and needs red-carpet looks for the upcoming awards season.”

You pulled up Chrome on your laptop and Googled the actor. He was gorgeous. Sandy blonde hair, a Cupid’s bow pout, long legs, and sun-kissed skin. The textbook definition of a California golden boy. You looked back to Kitty and said, “Sure, could be fun. Reach out to his people.”

~~~~~

Your meeting with Austin came a couple of days later. That gave you some time to research the actor’s style up until that point and compile some ideas for looks. It was a nice change of pace for you. Men’s fashion wasn’t simple by any means, but it was far less scrutinized when compared to that of women. One of your goals with any celebrity you worked with was to ensure they didn’t end up on a worst-dressed list following a red-carpet event.

Your outfit for the meeting was inspired by an article you read recently on mod fashion: a mini sweater dress paired with a wide studded belt and brown suede calf-high boots. It was very comfortable while looking fantastic on you. Sure, you were showing a little more leg than you usually would for a meeting with a potential client. But there wasn’t any harm in being comfortable, right?

You were in the middle of a phone call when Kitty messaged you to say that Austin had arrived. Ending the call, you stood up, adjusting your dress, before talking to your door. He stood at Kitty’s desk, talking with her. God, he really was a tall drink of water. He turned his gaze toward you and said in a voice like velvet, “So you must be the famous Y/N Y/L/N. I’m honored to meet you. Zendaya and Flo sang your praises constantly on set.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Butler. You’re too kind.” You shook his hand, pleasure blossoming in your chest.

“Austin, please,” he said, squeezing your hand.

“Austin,” you repeated, gesturing inside your office. You looked at Kitty. “Could you bring us some water?”

The two of you sat down in front of your desk. You grabbed your iPad off your desk and tapped through your files, searching for the folder you had created for him. As you searched, you took a couple of sneaky peaks at Austin. He wore jeans, a blue flannel over a white t-shirt, and black boots. Simple but sexy. Your cheeks heated up, and you scolded yourself. Even though you were going through a dry spell in your personal life, that was no excuse to ogle a client like a piece of meat.

“So,” you said, finally finding the file and tapping it, “since you were in Elvis, I thought we could go in a slightly vintage direction for some of your red-carpet looks. Really channel that King of Rock and Roll energy. To your comfort, of course.”

You moved your chair closer to his and showed him your ideas. He hummed his approval on a couple of looks, saying with a grin, “If anyone would know about vintage style, it would be you, Miss Y/L/N. I like this look with the waistcoat here.”

“Y/N, please,” you replied, pleased with how your name sounded coming out of his mouth. “And I was hoping you would pick this look. You have such a narrow waist; hiding it would be a sin.”

“Been thinking about my waistline?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. “From a stylistic standpoint, yes.”

Austin was full-on smirking. “Of course.”

“Anyway,” you said, determined to remain professional during this meeting, “I was thinking burgundy for the suit. I’ve looked through your red carpet history, and it’s a lot of blacks. To quote the great Nathan Lane, one does want a hint of color. With your skin tone, burgundy would look stunning on you.”

“I bow to your expertise, ma’am,” Austin replied. He turned his body toward yours and said, “Stop me if this is inappropriate, but I would really like to take you out to dinner. You seem like such a fascinating and unique person. I read up on you; you’re my age, but you’ve worked with some impressive people. It seems like there’s a story there.”

Your cheeks heat up at his words. The utter destruction of your parents' marriage showed how messy mixing business with pleasure could be. You grew up around celebrities and prided on your ability to remain professional and keep the two separate. But…where was the harm in a simple dinner with a man who clearly seemed interested?

“There is,” you replied finally. You took a breath and connected with his too-blue eyes. “Normally, I would say no, but as long as we remain discreet, I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

You grabbed a pen from your desk and took his hand in yours. You wrote your cellphone number on his palm, saying, “Just text me the time and place.”

A/N- This was a lot of fun to write. Ask me nicely and maybe I'll write a part two? ;)

[destinyc1020]

I have noticed a change in Austin's style, I think it could be due to the fact that he's a YSL ambassador now? And they're kind of known for their cuts/ dark colour theme (Which for me personally as a fashion girlie is one of the reasons I love YSL, but also despise YSL lol). I mean for example people like Rosé or Hailey Bieber there red carpet style has drastically changed as well, they only wear black on the red carpet and they are also ambassadors. So perhaps he is just trying to fit the aesthetic of the brand? I know Austin was an ambassador for Cartier during the Elvis press tour so that could be the change as well. As much as the man looks fabulous in black, I would love to see him in his colour palette of more pastel and lighter colours. Like the light blue suit he wore to the Stella Macartney show in 2021 was gorgeous, and I thought it suited him very well.

I know Austin had the YSL cologne campaign late last year, but I didn't think that it meant he had to start only wearing YSL clothing....did it? 🤔

I know he's been an ambassador for Cartier watches, so I just assumed he was still doing Cartier lol.

You might be right though, he might have switched to YSL, cuz I think he mentioned on the red carpet at one of these Dune 2 events that he was wearing YSL.

As much as the man looks fabulous in black, I would love to see him in his colour palette of more pastel and lighter colours. Like the light blue suit he wore to the Stella Macartney show in 2021 was gorgeous, and I thought it suited him very well.

I would love to see him in more COLOR as well lol. 😅 He dabbled a little bit with maroon at the SAG Awards and even in white during the Elvis press tour.... But he always goes back to his tried and true, BLACK lol. I really liked his brown looks for the MOTA press and premiere events. 😃👍🏾

I know the Stella Macartney show you're referring to, and I actually didn't really like the pastel blue?? I feel like it kinda washed him out a bit. But I guess it was a nice change lol.

Don't get me wrong, Austin looks GOOD af in black lol, but all of these over-sized black suits and coats he's been wearing lately are giving me: "Say HELLO to my little FRIEND!!!" 😅🤣

Especially that number he wore in Paris for YSL Lol 🤭

All he needs is a gun in his hands lol 🤣

[ramp-it-up]

Definitely Not

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x Reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18 + Cursing, Angst, Jealousy, Smut, Graphic Depictions of Sex, Semi-public sex, oral sex (f receiving), established relationship.

Word Count: About 3K

Summary: Daveed tries to set you straight on set. Let’s see if it works.

A/N: This fic is an ask from a Nonnie who is Definitely Not Miranda in response to the pictures enclosed. So @einfachniemand, I’m not going to say: Here, my dear. 

Very little editing, all errors my own. (The dress pic is not intended to convey skin tone or body type, just the dress).

It was the night of the SAG awards, which happened to fall right on the last night of your first three-week visit to set to see Daveed. You hated the distance and he knew that, so he arranged for you to see each other whenever possible. 

You’d spent the first 10 days in quarantine with him, and that was fun, but these last 10 had been mostly sitting back and watching him work.  Normally, you wouldn’t have minded it, but his work on this show had him in several sex scenes where he was intimate with another actress.

She was perfectly sweet, and nice, and very much in a relationship, but every time you watched a scene with them together, you got this twisting turning sensation in your belly. 

Could it be jealousy, or something else?

You’d taken to avoiding set on those days, insisting you had work to do, and you stayed in the condo that production provided Daveed. 

It didn’t help that you had gone from non-stop sex every day for 10 days, to long says of filming and occasional sex this last half of the trip. 

But there was no need to worry. It was normal. D was exhausted and he was working.  And your relationship was not just physical. 

Was it?

All of this had your neurotic, anxiety riddled mind working.  You began to think that maybe this was the test of your relationship. That maybe you and Daveed weren’t right for each other. That maybe this wasn’t even love.

Daveed knew you like the back of his hand.  He knew what you were thinking, he could tell by your avoidance of his sex scenes and by the way you were in your head lately.

But tonight was special.  When Daveed told you to bring a fancy dress, you thought it was for sexy time purposes, especially when he specified the short strapless belted Versace gold disco dress dress that you’d tried on when he was fitted for this suit, and that he’d surprised you with on Valentine’s Day.

It was almost destroyed that night, but it was flung across the room before Daveed had a chance to ruin it.

The fact that he was going to present at the SAG awards on the Night Car set not to mention that he was also nominated was a cause for celebration.

It had been a while since you two were able to go out on the town and you were a little nervous as you got ready alone in the condy while Daveed finished filming before the awards.

Your phone dinged with an instagram notification. Daveed’s co-star had posted them together, dressed for the awards.  Her black dress complimented his suit nicely and they looked like a lovely couple.

Instead of throwing your phone across the room, you closed instagram and deleted it. You weren’t going to stress, and you weren’t going to let this harsh your mood.

At least that’s what you told yourself in the mirror before you left the condo.

But on the way to the set in the studio car, you were tripping. 

Hard.

Were you a massive fool?

You had to pull yourself together. By the time you arrived, you looked the part of the excited and dutiful partner.  Acting at it’s finest.

-------

Daveed was laughing with her when you got to set.  He looked so delectable, that you just stood and stared at him from the side of the soundstage, feeling your throat gone dry and all the moisture traveling between your legs.  

That beard.  Damn, it had been a few days since you felt it between your legs.  

The suit was even more magnificent with the fuller beard and the confidence of a man who was doing well and in his element.  

The colors and patterns of the Versace jacket complimented the warm brown of his skin and the sequined effect of his balck shirt matched the mirror ball gold and silver dress you wore. 

You knew that the shirt clung to every sculpted muscle under that jacket, that’s why you’d dropped to your knees so readily that night after the fitting.

Even though you knew it was just work, the fact that she had her hands on what was yours made you heated. You almost couldn’t contain yourself.

Your eyes went to his hand, where he clutched a whiskey glass with two fingers of amber liquid. You wondered if it was real, or a prop.  You didn’t care, you just wished you were that glass, despite the emotions and hormones that swirled inside you.

When your eyes went back to his face, he was looking at you, jaw clenching. The one tell that you affected him. He appraised you from toe to head for a few seconds, then he went back to his conversation.

A new vexation filled you at his intentional indifference to you. Standing upright, you readied for battle.

-----

Damn, thought Daveed when he first saw you.  He wanted to know who you were but then he remembered that you were his.  

The thought made his cock stir and grow even more as he took in your whilte sandals and your legs that went allll the way up to the hem of your dress that was just a bit shorter than he’d like it to be in public. They continued up your gold and silver ensconced curves to the bustier of the strapless dress that you were not-quite-indecently almost falling out of. 

Damn, he needed to bury his face in your tits as he fingered you into submission. 

He gaze journeyed up your collarbone (he noticed that the marks he’d put there last week had faded) up your neck (those were gone too) to your adorable chin and big eyes.

The way that you looked at him, like a bunny trapped in a snare, made him want to take you down right there. 

But he had to wait.

Daveed kept calm by ignoring you.  He couldn’t lose his cool right here and if he went to greet you, he would drag you to the bathroom and stuff his cock in one of your holes. And he still had a job to do.

Not only was Daveed presenting, he was nominated.  But already felt like a winner because the real prize was you.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you raise your chin in that way you had when you were angry, ready to cuss him out or fight. Or both.

He didn’t have to look to know that your eyes were flashing and that your fingers were probably trembling with emotion right now.  

Daveed took a sip of his liquor as he continued his conversation and smiled.  She thought he was smiling at her, but in reality, he was smiling at you.  He had something for you.

He noted that you walked over and sat down on the chair with his name emblazoned upon it.  As you crossed your legs to show off what you were working with, he knew exactly what you were doing.

Staking your claim.

What you didn’t realize was that he was always and forever yours.

It began with what he thought was a burning hatred for you but was really an all consuming passion.

And it started when he first laid eyes on you.

The tension was zapping across the room between you two, and the reckoning to come was inevitable the entire night.

----

“We’ll catch up with you later, we’re going to hop on a call home. Want to talk to the fam.”

Everyone bought the story and moved to the other soundstage, where a watch party was set up.  Soon, you and D were alone on set.

“I hate you. Daniele.”

Daveed smiled that electric smile of his, looked down and shook his head. You used his middle name to piss him off. He wasn’t going to take the bait.

“You don’t mean that.”  He moved to within one foot of you, but he didn’t touch you.

“Fuck. You.”

“Why do you hate me now?” He had a good idea, but he wanted to hear you say it.

“Because you’re fucking with her.  Or making her believe it can happen. I saw how she looks at you. And you at her.” He moved even closer.

You wanted to move away from him, but you didn’t dare concede any ground to him.

He grabbed your hand and pulled it toward him.

“Do you feel this?” Your hand was now grasping his rock hard erection.  “This isn’t for her, it’s all for you.”

You laughed in his face, challenging him with your eyes.

Daveed knew exactly what the real problem was. 

He kissed down your neck and slid his hands down your torso to your waist, grasped it, and then hoisted you up on the bar, forcing himself between your legs. 

His hands went to your knees and traveled up your moisturized thighs to the apex, finding nothing but the carefully manicured triangle there.

He looked at it for what seemed a long time and licked his lips.  When he looked up, his eyes made you clench your thighs together.

“Can I?” 

Fuck, you thought. You couldn’t deny it.  This is what you wanted. You nodded quickly and licked your parched lips.

Daveed loved the feel, the taste, and the smell of you.  He ran the pads of his thumb there, teasing the very tip of your clit, playing you almost like an instrument.

“This dress with no panties. Why did you choose violence Baby Girl?”

He twisted his wrist and was now three fingers and two knuckles deep inside you. The sloshing sound of your wetness was music to his ears.

“Damn, Daveed…” your breathless whisper and physical reaction told him everything he needed to know.

He slammed his fingers inside you and rubbed his palm against your cunt. He curled his fingers to hear you moan again, and then buried his head in between your tits to lick up your ribcage.

Your moan made him leak, and he pulled himself away from the delectable valley of your breasts to slide his hands down your body as he sank to his knees before you. 

You leaned back on the bar and watched as he got down on his knees for you. 

“Do you still think that there is anyone else above you?”  

He grasped your foot, took off your sandal and kissed your instep, trailing his lips up your ankle to your calf.

He kept eye contact as you leaned back on your hands and watched as he licked a fat wet stripe up your thigh to the hem of your dress, and then paused to look at you.

Your anger was gone and now you were begging.

“Please…” 

The reach of his long fingers nearing your pussy had you weak.  He slowly rolled the hem up your dress up as he got closer and closer to the promised land. You dropped your head back and looked at the ceiling.

“Watch me, Baby Girl.”  

His sweet tone made you snap your head back up, knowing that if you didn’t obey, he would make you pay. That was the only intelligent thought you had, as your mind was blank to anything else but what Daveed was doing to you.

He smiled down at your glistening pussy, and in one swift move, his mouth is on you and he lovingly licked your clit.  He alternated between this and placing stripes with his tongue between your folds, causing you squirm in his clutches on the bartop.

“Hmmmmm. So delicious.”  He looked up at you and grins mischievously.

You shuddered, biting your lip to keep from screaming. He held you fast in his grip as you started convulsing and almost hyperventilating at the pleasure he gave you as his rough tongue swiped over your clit again and again.

“Da-Da-Daveed.”

Daveed looked up, wiped his mouth on his sleeve and smiled that gorgeous smile at you.

“What did you call me?” His eye contact was unwavering, not allowing you to escape.

Your eyes got wide and you shut your mouth fast. Daveed just chuckled, in the mood to be soft.

“Nevermind. We’ll save that for another day.”

He kissed you, allowing you to sample yourself on his tongue. You incoherently grabbed for his belt, unbuckling the impediment to what was so important to you at this moment. 

Daveed pulled away and undid his belt, unbuttons his pants and they drop to the floor.

You reached for and only got to hold and squeeze the large, heavy cock in your hand briefly before he pulled away again, lifting you off the bar and turning you around to lean against it.

He answered your whine with a shushing sound.

“Shhhh. As much as I love to see you wrap that mouth around my dick.  I need inside you. Now.”

Daveed could hardly stand it. He’d wanted you for hours, since you walked into the room, days, since he last had energy to have you. He was finally going to have his heart’s desire.

He lifted your ass cheek and lined up at your dripping lips.  He couldn’t look away as he watched you take all of him, the hiss that escapes his lips causing you to clench around him.

“Fuck. Such a good girl, taking me like this.”

Your mind was like a whirlwind as he thrusted inside you slowly, building up to a constant, merciless rhythm.  His pelvis crashed into yours over and over, hands on your hips, surely leaving bruises at his ruthless grip.

“Gotdamn Daveed, no one else has ever made me feel this way,” you whispered, your voice not much more than the breaths you were trying to catch.

This information made Daveed pause and fall out of rhythm, and you heard his breath catch in his throat. His hips faltered after he heard what you had to say.

“Shit!”  

The exclamation betrayed his emotion and you remembered how much he loved your words of praise.

The fact that he’d wanted you for so long and couldn’t have you and now you are really his blew his mind.  Hearing that he could make you feel like none other made him weak. 

“Tell me more.”

He sped up again, growing hot at the image of himself sinking deep inside you.

“No one else can make me feel as good as you do.”

“Fuck!”  He moved feverishly, his release imminent.

“It’s not just that your dick is big and hits that spot that no one else has ever found...” 

“Shit!” 

Daveed reached around to your clit and worked it furiously with his fingers again, because he was going to come any second and he needed you to meet him there.

“It’s that you know m-m-mmmmmm.” You could hardly speak it’s so good.

“You know my bodyyyy… my body so fucking well Daveed.”  

He grabbed your hand with his right one and brought it behind your back as his left worked,  pinning your torso to the bar. You went up on your toes in your heels, calves tightening along with the rest of your body.

You arched your spine as your explosion started to arrive. Daveed thrust once more, deep inside you, making contact with that special spot and it was game over for both of you.

You cum, hard, and prayed that you don’t mess up his suit. Or your dress.

Daveed leaned on your back, panting, and you released your hand from between you and grabbed his curls, bending back to kiss him, as he softened inside you. He moaned in his throat, a sign that he was still sensitive.

He looked you in your eyes.

“I love you.”

You smile at him. “I love you too.”

He pecked your lips again and groaned as he slipped out of you, and moved to pull up his pants as you straightened your dress. 

He went to the bathroom at stage right and is back out within five minutes, having washed his hands and fixed his hair.

He took you in his arms and gave you his serious look.  Your stomach turned flips, as if you were in trouble.  The thing is, you knew you weren’t. It was just the opposite.

“Let me go over this one more time…” you moved to speak and his look darkened. You shut your mouth quickly.

“Work. Is work. That’s all. I’m a professional. Just like you.”  

He stared you down.

“You know a sex scene ain’t sexy. Plus I have that wig and make up on, there are hot lights, makeup. The closest thing to a turn off there is.”

“Stop being jealous just because I like my co-workers. You should be glad I like her, because remember the last co-star that I couldn’t stand?”  

He looked at you with a glint in his eye.

You were mad.

“Yeah, you ended up boning her brains out because of the sexual tension.”

“Exactly. And I turned her out.  She stalked me all the way up here to Vancouver.”

You were heated.

“Fuck you, Daveed! You sent me a ticket and ordered me to come, don’t try…”

Daveed silenced you with a kiss. 

“Can you not be crazy for 10 minutes?” 

You caught your breath as you glared at him. You stared each other down, the tension building again.

You pulled away from him.

“10 minutes is all you get. Because that was DEFINITELY NOT the right thing to say to me!!”

You turned on your heel and walked out of the soundstage ahead of him.

Daveed straightened his suit and smiled as he followed you out.

It was going to be a long night. 

And he was looking forward to it.

--------

Let me know if you like it by liking, commenting, and reblogging!

Tags: @braidedchallah  @einfachniemand @sillyteecup  @ohsoverykeri @theselilwonders @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @lonelydance   @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes @honeysucklechocolatedrippin ​ @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @janthonystan @elocinnicole @anh1020

[mishasminion360]

We’ll All Float On

An It: Chapter 2 epilogue

Warning: Language; mentions of trauma and therapy; coming out of the closet; angst; fluff. You know what? Everything. It’s got everything.

A/N: I wrote this ages ago immediately after seeing the movie, but I’m just getting around to typing it up and posting it. The remaining members of the Losers Club deserve all the happinesses life can dish out. And in this house we ship Reddie!

Derry, Maine, 2017

Maybe coming back there wasn’t the best idea. After all, the last time they’d all gathered at that particular restaurant it had been a disaster, a God damned nightmare, and Mike had sworn to himself that he’d never eat Chinese food again. But as he gazed into the bubbling waters of the aquarium (this time tranquil and free of severed heads), his worries began to subside. And when the second of the Losers finally arrived his fears vanished completely.

“Jesus, isn’t there anywhere else to eat in this town?” Mike turned to see Bill Denbrough sling his jacket over the back of a chair and offering him a wide grin.

“Man, you grew up here, too, Bill. You should know that the answer to that question is a resounding ‘no’.”

The two men embraced with a hearty laugh, things already felt so much different than before.

***

Beverly gazed up at the glowing neon of the Jade of the Orient as Ben wrapped an arm tenderly around her waist.

“How does it feel to be back, Mr. Hanscom?” Bev asked, leaning into him.

“A lot better now that I’m not saddled with this overwhelming sense of dread weighing on my chest.”

Beverly circled both of her arms around Ben’s muscular torso which 28 years ago had not been so muscular. “Well, now the only thing resting on your chest is me.”

She hoisted herself up on her toes to lock her lips with his and Ben smiled into the kiss. “Easy now, Mrs. Hanscom,” he murmured. “Time and place. Time and place.”

“Get a room you two, before I lose my appetite.”

The lovebirds extricated themselves from each other’s arms to gape at the bespectacled man who’d approached them.

“Seriously, how the fuck is it that the two of you look even better than you did last year? And what the fuck am I doing wrong?”

“Beep beep, Richie!!!” Ben and Beverly cheered in unison as the pulled good ol’ Trashmouth Tozier into a bear hug.

“All right you two, lay off,” Richie laughed as he shrugged his way out of their embrace. “Don’t touch me, you don’t know where I’ve been.”

The three linked arms and strode to the front door of the restaurant like Dorothy, Scarecrow and the Tin Man sauntering down the yellow brick road.

“Alrighty, fellas,” Bev said, never afraid to take the lead. “Let’s do this thing.”

***

“Hello and welcome! How many in your…oh.”

The hostess trailed off as she took in the trip before her. Oh, she remembered these three, and the rest of their strange little gang as well. The last time the six of them had dined there they’d nearly destroyed their finest dining room. She didn’t need to open up a fortune cookie to know she’d be cleaning up more shattered dishes and splintered furniture that night.

“Right this way,” she said, clearing her throat. “The rest of your party is expecting you.”

Volleying quips and sharing in quiet giggles, Bev, Ben, and Richie followed the hostess as she procured their utensils and menus and led them to their seats.

“Where is your sick friend? The small man who is allergic to everything? I don’t believe he’s arrived yet.”

The trio immediately fell silent. She’d been referring, of course, to Eddie Kaspbrak. Bev would had to have been blind not to notice Richie’s face fall and his body sag with an unspoken sadness at the mere mention of their late friend. Reaching behind her without looking, she grasped Richie’s hand tightly in her own and her stiff shoulders relaxed when she felt him squeeze back in thanks.

“He’s, um,” Ben paused as a he searched for the right words. “He’s one of the reasons we’re here tonight.”

***

Mike and Bill were already engaged in an animated discussion about something or other and hadn’t even noticed the others approach. Ben gazed wistfully at the joyful pair, admiring their exuberance and allowing it to overtake him as well before removing the padded mallet from its place and offering it to Richie. “Care to do the honors?”

Bill and Mike’s conversation was abruptly silenced by the thunderous echo of a gong and Richie’s announcement.

“This meeting of the Losers Club has officially begun.”

And just like that all of the pieces fell into place. The little family was whole, as it would ever be, once more.

***

“Shit, Mike, you actually went to Florida?” Richie guffawed before taking a pull from his beer.

“Mm-hm,” he responded through a mouthful of lo mein.

“Fuck, why?”

“It’s like I told you when we were kids. It’s just a place I’d always wanted to see. Now I’ve seen it.

“And?”

The other five eyed Mike in anticipation of an exciting story, but he merely shrugged. “It’s about as magical as you’d expect.”

“Yeah, I told you you’d hate it,” Richie snickered.

“It wasn’t all bad. I did meet a nice gal in Jacksonville.” This was met with a chorus of juvenile “oohs” and a salacious whistle from Bill.

“What was she, like, 70?”

“Don’t be such a smart ass, Rich,” Mike chided, waiting until Richie once again had his lips poised at the edge of his glass of booze before finishing his sentence. “She was 80.”

The gang hooted as Trashmouth Tozier choked on his beverage. Bill clapped his coughing friend firmly on his back before lifting his own glass.

“If Richie here can keep it down, I’d like to propose a toast.” The others followed suit and hoisted their drinks in the air. “To those we lost. To Stan and Eddie.”

They smiled they’d all been wearing throughout the evening finally began to falter as silence engulfed the room. After a moment of quiet hesitation, Bev tapped her glass against Bill’s.

“To Stan,” she said with a grin that took all of her strength to muster.

“To Stan,” they all repeated before clinking glasses and taking a swig.

“To Eddie,” Ben cheered, and the others parroted with a little more pep. All but one.

“Rich? You okay, man?” Bill turned to his left to see the usually boisterous comedian staring stoically into his half poised glass, his brow furrowed in concentration as if he was searching the bottom of his beer for something he’d never be able to find.

“To Eddie,” he whispered at last, clinking his glass against all the others.

***

Though Florida had been a bit of a dud, Mike did find happiness traversing other states, even other countries. Thanks to a little help from Bev’s keen eye, Ben had just designed, and would be supervising construction for, a swanky new chain of hotels. Richie’s third Netflix special would be available to stream by the end of the week. Bill’s latest book had just been nominated for an award and talks had already begun regarding a big screen adaptation. And all that good news coincided with the birth of his first child, a son named Georgie.

It certainly seemed that none of them could be considered losers anymore.

***

Another blanket of uncomfortable silence settled upon them as the waitress plopped the plate of fortune cookies in the center of the table.

“Enjoy,” she chirped before adding in a whisper, “and my boss has insisted that I ask you lot to please refrain from destroying any furniture this time.” To that end she left them to partake in their potentially hazardous desert, and the group eyed the plate of novelty snacks with trepidation.

“Okay, who wants to be the first to crack one of these suckers open?” Richie asked. “By the way, not it.”

After another moment or two of hesitation, Mike finally reached for the plate. “I got you all into this mess last time, so I might as well start making up for it. Since Eddie can’t be with us, I’ll be this evening’s designated risk analyst.”

He cracked a cookie in two and, popping one half inside his mouth and discarding the other on the table, withdrew the small slip of paper.

No blood, no milky eyeballs, no critters from another hellscape of a world. The only thing inside these cookies were fortunes. Mike read his without a sound, and he could feel the others watching him intently.

“If that fucking thing says ‘guess’ or ‘Stanley’ or ‘could’ or ‘not’ or ‘cut’ or ‘it’, I swear to God I’m fucking gone.” Richie laughed but failed to hide his growing unease.

Mike grinned as he read the fortune again, this time out loud. “‘The world is big, but time is short.’”

“Well that’s much less terrifying,” Bill sighed. “I’ll take that as a cue to dig in.”

Bill devoured the cookie and then vocalized his fortune. “‘The ending is the most integral part of the journey’.”

“Would you look at that,” Richie guffawed, clapping Bill on the shoulder. “Even a shitty cookie has offer it’s two cents about your lousy endings.”

“Fuck you, Trashmouth. My last two novels have ended quite nicely, thank you very much. Just ask my Booker Prize nomination.”

“I’d rather ask the award itself when you win it.”

Bill rolled the slip of paper into a minuscule ball and flicked it aside. “If I win it.”

Richie shook his head. “When.”

Bill patted Richie’s hand as a sign of thanks. “You know, I’ve actually been thinking about taking a step back from all the doom and gloom thriller stuff to take a swing at writing children’s books.”

“You’re kidding!” Bev exclaimed with a bark of laughter.

“I’m serious. I kind of thought it would be a good way for Georgie and I to bond. I write a story, then we read it together. You know?”

Ben leaned back in his chair and snapped his cookie in half. “Bill that’s…wow. That’s quite a change. Good for you, man.”

“What does yours say, honey? Bev asked, eyeing the slip of paper between her husband’s fingers.

“Yeah, honey. What’s it say?” Richie leaned toward the two of them, batting his eyelashes dramatically and resting his chin in his hands as the pair flipped him off at the same time.

“It says ‘he who builds the dreams of others should not neglect his own’.”

“Well, that’s oddly specific,” Richie said matter-of-factly. “You know, because you’re an architect? You build things….yeah, I’ll shut up now.”

“First time for everything,” Ben grinned.

“I want to read mine next,” Bev chimed in, holding the small piece of paper primly between her fingers. “It says ‘the smallest changes make the biggest difference’.”

Mike rubbed his chin in thought, nodding his approval at the depth of Bev’s fortune. “Anyone want to wager a guess as to what it means?”

Richie snapped his fingers as his eyes lit up. “Well, by jove, I think I’ve got it, gents,” he exclaimed in an overblown, piss poor excuse for a British accent they hadn’t heard him use since they were kids. “I do believe it means that if our dear friend William here could slightly alter his crummy endings, some of his books might actually make for a halfway decent read.”

Bill glared at his wisecracking friend. “Tozier, if you make fun of my writing one more time, I swear to God-“

“Don’t blame me, man. It’s the cookies that have it out for you!”

“I don’t think it has anything to do with Bill’s books, Rich,” Ben smiled just as Bill smacked Richie in the back of his head.

“I think it means that something small can have a huge impact on your life,” Bev clarified. She scanned the faces of her companions to see if any were catching her drift.

“What, like, a new haircut?”

“Or a baby, Richie.” Ben’s eyes twinkled when he grinned.

“Right. Or like-wait, what?”

“Bev that’s….are you really….?” Mike stammered happily.

“Three weeks along,” she confirmed proudly. “You guys didn’t think it was a little weird that I’ve been drinking water this entire evening?”

Bill leapt from his chair and threw his arms around the expectant couple. “Ben! Bev! This is amazing news! Congratulations!”

“Yeah, congrats you two crazy kids,” Richie added before Mike inquired if they’d been considering names yet.

Bev leaned into her husband affectionately. “Well, of it’s a girl, Ben has graciously agreed to name her after my mother, Elfrida. We’d call her Frida for short.”

“Beautiful choice, Bev,” Mike praised, taising his glass and taking a celebratory sip. “And if it’s a boy?”

The Hanscom’s looked silently, almost nervously at each other before answering, some sort of unspoken agreement passing between the two of them as the rest of the Losers looked on.

“If it’s a boy,” Ben finally said, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d even been holding, “we’d like to name him Eddie. Edward Stanley Hanscom.”

Richie instantly felt a lump form in his throat, and he had to cast his eyes downward to ensure that no one could see the pain that burned behind them. He chewed his lip quietly as he struggled to reel his unraveling emotions back in. When he looked back up his eyes immediately found Beverly’s. She searched his face silently. Hopefully.

“He would have loved that,” Richie finally croaked. “They both would have.”

Mike and Bill were too choked up to speak, so they just adamantly nodded their agreement.

“Alright, I think I’ve had about as much sentimentality as I can take for one evening.” Ben turned to Richie and tossed him a fortune cookie. “Come on, funny man, make me laugh. What does yours say?”

Richie made a big manly show of crushing the cookie in his hand before extricating the fortune from the rubble of the snack, and as he read it to himself his face blanched.

“Oh, this should be good,” Mike snickered, noticing Richie’s sudden discomfort. “Don’t keep us in suspense, Rich.”

He felt a wave of nausea overtake him as he read and re-read the small segment of paper. The clown was dead, he knew that, but this fortune felt like another of his cruel tricks. Richie felt as if he were being mocked all over again.

Love doesn’t come only once.

“Rich?” Beverly asked softly, her gentle voice cutting through the harsh buzz of white noise in his ears. Nuh-uh. No way in hell was he reading this shit out loud. He didn’t have the stomach to explain it to them. Not yet. Not like this.

“I, uh, I guess my new special’s gonna bomb,” he coughed. “It says ‘a career change can set you on your true path’.”

The others eyed him skeptically and he feared they’d seen through his fib when Ben at last said, “it’s probably for the best, Rich. You’re not that funny anyway.”

Richie mouthed a silent “fuck you” and the tension dissolved into laughter.

***

The first to arrive, the leave. Mike stood and slipped his jacket from the back of the chair, shrugging into it as he said, “I don’t know about you folks, but jet lag and alcohol do not seem to be mixing well for me. Any of you care to continue the conversation back at the townhouse?”

“You read my mind,” Bill said, polishing off the dregs of his third beer before following Mike’s lead.

“Me, Ben, and the Lima bean here,” Bev said with a Pat of her stomach, “would be more than happy to take you up on that offer.”

“I’ll handle the check,” Bill said, already removing his wallet from his back pocket.

“Slow your roll there, Stephen King,” Ben said, reaching for his own wallet. “I’ve got this one. Really.”

“Let’s at least split it. I don’t feel right about you taking the whole thing.”

“Girls, girls, you’re both pretty,” Bev interjected. “I’ll pay it myself if it keeps this from turning into an all night debate.”

Bill turned to Richie, who hadn’t moved an inch. “Well, maybe mr. big shot comedian here would like to contribute.”

Richie still made not a move to stand. He simply sat and stared at the collection of dirty dishes littering the table, gazing so intently that he could potentially shatter one of the plates with a single thought.

“Yo, earth to Trashmouth. You okay, man?”

Richie licked his lips nervously; his mouth had gone inexplicably dry and he struggled to dislodge his voice from his throat.

“I’m not ready to, uh….guys we can’t leave yet.”

The tone had shifted once again and a far sense of dread took hold of each of the Losers. Bill tried to laugh through the unease. “You planning on spending the night here, Richie?”

“You guys, I came here tonight to say something and, God dammit, I’m gonna say it! I just need…just give me a sec.”

Richie Tozier spent so much of his time joking around that the rest of the gang often forget that he was even capable of being serious. He felt sadness and fear just like the rest of them, and it was clear at that moment that he was scared to death.

He was gripping the edge of the table so hard that his knuckles paled. Beverly slid into the chair next to him and took one of his hands in her own. He was shaking terribly.

“Richie, what’s wrong?”

For what was probably the first time in his life, Richie couldn’t bring himself to start talking. Tell them, Tozier, he commanded himself. Just tell them. They’re your friends, man. They deserve the truth. You owe it to them, and to yourself. To Stan. To…Eddie.

“Sweetie, you’re scaring us,” Bev whispered. “Talk to us, Richie.”

“I’ve been seeing a therapist,” he finally blurted, the words tumbling out with the gust of a breath.

The others glanced from one another, unsure of how to respond, until Mike placed a comforting hand on Richie’s shoulder.

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of, Rich. Shit, after everything we went through last year…” He trailed off as Richie shook his head fiercely, eyes screwed shut.

“I’m…um, I’m….gay.”

And just like that it was out. His “dirty little secret”. His painful truth laid bared before him for his friends, for the world to see.

“I’ve been having a really hard time accepting myself and….and processing all of these feelings. Especially after….after Eddie….” The rest of the words died on his tongue. He couldn’t bare to finish the sentence. It had been a year since he’d lost the only man he’d ever loved, but with each passing day the wound reopened. The pain was always fresh.

“Oh, Rich,” Bev cooed. She stroked his hair and pulled him close, already a loving mother in the making. “We know, honey.”

“You….what?”

“Richie, we know,” Bill confirmed. “We’ve always known, man.”

Richie could hardly believe his ears. Was it even possible for someone to be in so much pain but still find it possible to smile?

“Why the fuck didn’t any of you ever say anything?”

Ben slipped an arm around Bev’s shoulders and placed one of his strong but gentle hands over Richie’s. “Because we didn’t care, Rich. Who you loved didn’t matter to us. Because we loved you.”

“We still do. We’re your friends, Trashmouth,” Mike added. “We figured that, someday, you’d tell us when you were good and ready.”

Richie snatched his glasses from his face to rub his eyes as his vision went blurry. “I would have told you all a lot sooner, I think. But then we all left and….and we forgot. I forgot.”

Beverly laid her head against Richie’s shoulder. His trembling had only grown worse.

“Do you think….do you think that Eddie knew?”

“Eddie’s death hit us all pretty hard, Richie, but we could see how deeply it hurt you. Much more than any of us. We understand why now,” Bev soothed. “We all know how much you loved him, and we’re just so sorry that you’ve had to deal with all these feelings by yourself.”

He didn’t want to cry in front of them. Not again. But Richie had never been a good fighter, so the tears eventually won. Just like that day in the quarry one year ago, his friends held him as his body convulsed with harsh wracking sobs.

***

After his good healthy cry, Richie excused himself and snuck off the pay the check before either Bill or Ben had the chance to protest.

“So, I think Richie is definitely going to need another drink. How about I go grab a couple six packs and then meet you all back at the townhouse?” Bill offered.

The gang nodded their agreement as they all began filing out of the dining room and toward the front door. Suddenly, Richie came barreling past them back to the table.

“OhShitOhShitOhShitOhShit,” he chorused as he frantically snatched up as many napkins as he could that hadn’t already been soiled.

“What happened?” Ben inquired, quirking one perfect brow.

“I bumped into a guy at the register.”

“A guy?” asked Bev. “Someone you know?”

“Nope,” Richie responded, clutching two fistfuls of napkins. “And I literally bumped into him. Now he’s wearing his takeout as a suit.”

Richie rushed past them all again in a mad rush to clean up the mess he’d made.

Mike rolled his eyes. “Looks like Trashmouth has got quite a way with the fellas, doesn’t he?”

***

Cozy in the townhouse, they laughed some more, drank some more, and reminisced some more. They listened intently as Bill read aloud some of the rough passages he’d scribbled out for Georgie’s book. They helped Mike chart a course for his next adventure: a traditional backpacking trip across Europe. Richie offered to tag along if they could make a pit stop in Amsterdam for some weed.

As for Richie, the happily married Losers offered him some helpful advice for his next encounter with Don, whose number he’d been rewarded with after mopping up his spilled sweet and sour chicken. The very Don he’d promised himself to call when he returned home and felt good and ready to make a move. And Richie was starting to feel that “ready” may actually come sooner rather than later.

And as the week long visit neared it’s end, as their time together came to a close, the five collectively came to the realization that they were far from the losers that Derry had shaped them to be. But then again they never did feel like losers when they were all together.

[haveagooddalyn]

[amphtaminedreams]

Filling the Met Shaped Hole (No, Not Like That): The Best Red Carpet Looks of Awards Season 2020

Hi to anyone reading,

I want to jump straight into things and ask a question. Which is the best Met Gala theme of the last 5 years and why is it Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination?

Seriously though, despite the fact that I’m not sure anything will top Heavenly Bodies with the preceding and succeeding Met Galas being relatively disappointing (the camp theme definitely could have been taken further and lets not even talk about the Comme Des Garcons disaster), I still get excited for the gala every year, staying up til whatever hour of the morning so I can see all the fashion live. Of course, it makes complete sense that this year’s event has been postponed until October given the circumstances but the chosen theme of Fashion and Duration had the potential to be quite interesting, so I hope we do eventually get to see it; whilst I don’t miss endlessly scrolling through photos of every white male celebrity wearing the exact same suit and tie to the point where fangirls claim Harry Styles to be a pioneer of breaking gender norms because he wore a pink top, I long for the days where we could all temporarily coexist in peace and harmony thanks to the internet’s collective dragging of the Kardashians for paying no attention to the theme whatsoever. We should’ve guessed life as we know it was about to be flipped on its head when they actually turned up in something interesting last year.

What I’m trying to say is that I would love nothing more than to jump back in time to when tomorrow morning’s top Google search would be best Met Gala looks, and not how many lives did Boris Johnson’s fuckery cost us today. So in honour of the lack of trivial content, I thought I’d fill the Met shaped hole in our lives (amongst many other unfilled holes; today the freezer door at work hit me on the ass whilst I was putting ice cubes out and I think for a split second I got all flushed) by putting together a collection of my personal favourite red carpet looks from this year’s awards season and their respective afterparties: the BAFTAs, Brits, Critic’s Choice Awards, Golden Globes, Oscars, SAG Awards, and the Grammys to finish with.

Enjoy!

British Academy of Film and Television Arts Award (yes, that’s the BAFTAs but I needed a longer title)

(L-R: Zoe Kravitz in Dior, Rooney Mara in Givenchy, and Scarlett Johansson in Versace)

I am a British fan of television and arts but I will gladly say it: of all the awards ceremonies, the BAFTAs is hardly the most exciting, and the red carpet even less so. As I said, lots of boring men in boring suits and middle aged women being dressed by stylists who seem to think we’re dead from the neck down by the time we hit 40 and dress us accordingly so. Any hint of a décolletage explicitly forbidden.

There were a few good looks, however. From left to right, above we have Zoe Kravitz in Dior, Rooney Mara in Givenchy and Scarlett Johansson in Versace, who looks so amazing I almost forget that 1). Versace is going down the drain and 2). Scarlett Johansson would stand in front of a forest and take the role of a tree if she could. Which, along with her whole defence of Woody Allen, is really shit-she’s genuinely great in Marriage Story and an otherwise talented actress. As for Zoe Kravitz, she is up there with Robert Pattison as one of my biggest crushes right now and looks amazing in literally everything she wears, and Rooney Mara is consistently low-key yet elegantly dressed. 

(L-R: Greta Gerwig in Gucci, Florence Pugh in Dries Van Noten, Renee Zellweger in Prada)

Renee Zellweger proved an exception to the rule when it came to women over the age of 40 generally having clueless stylists-her dress is beautiful, very reminiscent of the delicate, demure beauty of 50s icons such as Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn. Florence’s dress, I actually really loved. It didn’t seem to go down all too well with actual Florence Pugh fans but red and pink together is an elite combo; I’m still firmly on the “surprised that it works but I’m into it” train. I mainly included Greta’s dress for the green velvet, to be honest; it’s disappointingly low-key for Gucci but nice enough all the same.

(L-R: Andrew Scott in Paul Smith, Charlize Theron in Dior, Daisy Ridley in Oscar de la Renta, and Emilia Clarke in Schiaparelli)

I was particularly excited to see Emilia Clarke in Schiaparelli-yes, I adore her because she played Daenerys Targaryen and I was ride or die for that bitch but also whenever I see her interviewed she has the most exuberant energy and honestly I want to be best friends. It’s not the most interesting dress Schiaparelli has ever put out there, but I like the fact that she went for something unique all the same.

Forest green is a colour I find hard to resist which is why I included Andrew Scott’s otherwise kinda basic suit (points for it being velvet) and Daisy Ridley in Oscar de la Renta. As elegant as the dress is, I would love for her stylist to have really leaned into the forest nymph vibes I’m getting and do something a bit less uptight with the hair and makeup; like imagine loose curls with tiny braids and hair rings and a dark lip and a slight smoke around the eye and...yes, I have very specific visions, I know. As for Charlize Theron, her work with Dior is the only reason I care about the brand; there’s definitely a case to be made here for giving Maria Grazia the benefit of the doubt, assuming that she tries all the prototypes on women who look like Charlize and that that’s why she’s happy to send dresses that are otherwise relatively underwhelming down the runway. 

The Brit Awards

(L-R: Charli XCX in Fendi, Ellie Goulding in Koche, Hailee Steinfeld in Fendi, and Harry Styles in Gucci)

In my opinion a much better reflection of quintessential British style than the BAFTAs, I originally ruled out including any music award ceremony red carpets in this post until I saw Maya Jama and Charli XCX’s looks. Consider me pleasantly surprised by Hailee Steinfeld’s cobalt blue burnout dress, a classic incarnation of the regal bohemian aesthetic Fendi channelled in their 2019 haute couture show. Plus Charli’s emo take on Glinda the Good Witch is also Fendi, driving home for me just how much I love their collections. I don’t know if I’d be sure about Ellie Goulding’s dress on the rack but the simple styling makes it work and she looks gorgeous, and Harry Styles looks just as pretty in a Gucci look that is MADE for him.

(L-R: Adwoah Aboah in Vivienne Westwood, Celeste in Gucci on the far right! I’m not sure who the guy in the middle is, I’m sorry and if anybody knows drop me a message and I will correct this immediately!)

Unfortunately, Harry Styles and Celeste didn’t get to pose together because this is really a perfect his and hers Gucci look; I feel like seeing one outfit next to the other would really highlight the quirky elegance of each. That being said, it feels criminal to talk about elegance without including Adwoah Aboah in Vivienne Westwood in the sentence; the dress is obviously stunning quality on its own merit, but Adwoah is what elevates it from unremarkable to ethereal. Fuck the weird ass knight figure that’s currently on top of the Brit Award, this woman is the definition of statuesque! Put her on top of the trophy you cowards!

And just to get it out of the way, when it comes to the guy in the middle, to quote Keke Palmer:

Sorry to this man.

Honestly, I saved all the red carpet photos from a Nylon (I think it was Nylon?) article back when the awards aired and towards the end of the photos they stopped including names-this happened a few times when I was looking through red carpet galleries. I reverse image searched where I could but not every photo turned anything up. If anyone does know who this man is, message me so I can include his name. He looks sick, and as far as suits go, this one is built upon and accessorised enough that it’s actually a look rather than the same old variation of a suit we’ve seen a million times before that may as well be the straight man’s designated red carpet uniform. 

(L-R: Maya Jama, Neh Neh Cherry in Bottega Veneta, Laura Whitmore)

And now the woman that forced me to include the Brits red carpet in this post in the first place: Maya Jama. Don’t get me wrong, my mind isn’t blown by this dress on its own, I probably prefer Laura Whitmore’s (Jaded do a similar newspaper dress and I’ve resisted adding it to my basket for 6 months now, this is the ultimate test of whether or not I finally cave), but Maya looks fucking MAGNIFICENT. The fit, the gloves, the confidence with which she carries it, it’s all SO good. Considering the timing, this is basically her Princess Diana revenge dress levelled up, 2020′s Jessica Rabbit moment. 

(L-R: Maya Jama, Ellie Goulding, Kendall Jenner)

Obviously anything is gonna be a step down from the red carpet look but Maya’s Brits afterparty outfit was cute too, if a tad Pretty Little Thing. 

Don’t ask me what Kendall Jenner was doing at the Brits afterparty btw, because I have no idea. We live in a world where the Kardashian-Jenners just seem to occupy every public space possible and I’ve begrudgingly accepted it at this point. I don’t have the energy to question it-and it helps that green catsuit is actually Very Cool™. 

For the last of my favourite Brit Awards looks, we have a few more afterparty photos-from left to right we have Charli XCX again, Lizzo, and Anne Marie. It was Charli posting her dress on Instagram that sent me searching for afterparty looks in the first place; apparently wearing nothing but feathers and crystals is something that appeals to me, and the more I read that statement, the more it sounds spot-on. I’d categorise it as gothic glamour hoe, and slot it in with the rest of the night-out clothes in my wardrobe that I think I’ll finally have the balls to wear out of sheer desperation once this lockdown is over. The Blossom to Charli XCX’s Buttercup here, we’ve also got Anne Marie looking extra AF and I loveeeee it; it’s an ensemble somewhere between a high-end version of Alaska Thunderfuck’s candyfloss Sugar Ball dress from season 5 of Drag Race (Alaska DID deserve to win AS2 nation, rise up) and a low-key version of a Katy Perry California Dreams Tour costume. I don’t call it low-key as a drag, just a regretful admission of the fact that maybe wearing a cupcake bra which squirts whipped cream out of the boobs is a bit too much for most of us. 

Critic’s Choice Awards

(L-R: Alison Brie in Brandon Maxwell, Chloe Bridges in Azeeza, Cynthia Erivo in Fendi, Florence Pugh in Prada)

I was going to say the Critic’s Choice Awards is kind of America’s version of the BAFTAs but then I remembered that the BAFTAs is really the only big TV and film awards ceremony we have here in the UK and that it’s kind of sad that I have to compare our most high-profile red carpet of the year to L.A’s most low-key one. Getting Cynthia Erivo and Florence Pugh to infiltrate is the best we can do. 

THAT BEING SAID! 

They both look amazing. This is Florence’s best red carpet look of this year, imo (she the prettiest icicle I’ve ever seen), and Cynthia Erivo’s arm must ache from serving the entire awards season. And in Fendi! Taste!

Side note before we move onto the next set of looks: has anybody else watched Alison Brie in Mad Men and Community simultaneously and experienced the extreme cognitive dissonance that comes from watching her play a tragically nerdy (relatable tbh) 18 year old and an overly-sophisticated 30 something married to an ad man in the 60s at the same time? Weird, but anyway! The orange dress with the red lipstick is channelling Marina Diamandis’ Froot era style subtle sex appeal and is a timeless, playful combo. Put the hair up into a beehive and it’s Megan Draper on a date in Cabo-don’t know much about the place but I know the sea is aqua and the sun seekers are blindingly white and the cocktails are plentiful (and whatever colour you want them to be), and all that together is a juicy palette if we’re talking cinematography. The Mad Men directors are out there somewhere shaking their fists at the sky that they never got to consult me on that, I’m sure. 

(L-R: Phoebe Waller-Bridge in Dior, Saoirse Ronan in Erdem and Zendaya in Tom Ford)

Zendaya’s red carpet look was the stand out of the Critic’s Choice Awards for sure; the skirt I can do without but I hope that hot pink metal breastplate ends up on display somewhere because that is ART, and she is the perfect person to wear it. The Tiffany Pollard “she's so powerful” meme was made for this moment. 

Also, can we talk about Phoebe Waller-Bridge backing up my Dior 2019 Haute Couture wasn’t *that* bad hypothesis? Because unless I’m mistaken this is one of the dresses from that collection and it is quite beautiful. Yeah, black mesh isn’t going to start a revolution or anything but it’s so delicate looking it almost seems out of place on a red carpet-I don’t know if it’s the structure of the bodice or the tulle but I can totally see this in a gothic ballet, whether that’s sensible in theory or not. Probably not. But then again I did quit ballet when I was 10 after months of getting people to near poke me in the eye on the way out of class so it would look like I’d been crying and I didn’t have to go to my lessons after school. So what do I know? Fuck all, in case that wasn’t clear. I also feel a little vindicated by Saoirse wearing one of the Erdem dresses I loved from last year’s collection-if multi-award winning actress Saoirse Ronan’s probably ridiculously well-paid stylist liked it enough to pick it out for her then I guess I’m doing okay in terms of taste levels.

(L-R: Olivia Wilde in Valentino, Lucy Hale in Miu Miu, Mandy Moore in Elie Saab, and Margaret Qualley in Chanel)

The last few Critics Choice Awards looks I picked out above aren’t thrilling or anything but they’re cute enough to include-from left to right we have Olivia Wilde in Valentino, Lucy Hale in Miu Miu, Mandy Moore in Elie Saab and Margaret Qualley in Chanel. It’s kind of besides the point, but Margaret worked with Chanel throughout awards season and I just wanted to add my two cents in here and say that I think she’s the perfect person to collaborate with (also think Laura Harrier would be a good match, anyone agree?) and that in a similar vein, I urge Miu Miu, the creative directors of which I’m sure are eagerly awaiting the opinion of irrelevant Tumblr user amphtaminedreams, to work with Lucy Hale more often. I feel like if girl stopped starring in those shitty Blumhouse horrors and did something a bit more sophisticated she’d fit the brand right down to a T.

The Golden Globes

(L-R: Cynthia Erivo in Thom Browne, Dakota Fanning in Dior, Jane Levy in Steven Khalil, and Janina Gavankar in Georges Chakra)

Finally! I hear you cry! A more exciting red carpet! It’s not the Oscars, but celebrity stylists still pulled the big guns for this one, the Golden Globes probably being considered the second most prestigious American awards ceremony of the year. Plus Dakota Fanning was there! Big yay for me! She and Elle can practically do no wrong in my eyes and are probably the only 2 women that could take on Dakota Johnson and Jennifer Lawrence when it comes to established red carpet style. 

Cynthia Erivo did it again, of course, as slick, as dignified and as regal as she was at the Critic’s Choice. The woman really has got this power stance thing locked down; she always seems so cool and confident in everything she wears that the whole getting dressed up to go out out out (we call going to the club going “out out”, but I’d say a red carpet is a slightly bigger deal than my local club with the sticky floors hence the 3rd out) thing looks like second nature.

(L-R: Zoey Deutch in Fendi, Karamo Brown in Grayscale, Lucy Boynton in Louis Vuitton and Kat Graham in Georges Hobeika)

Lucy Boynton was another of my Golden Globes stand outs, and in general is someone who I really look forward to seeing at red carpet events. She (or her stylist, I don’t know how much of a role she plays!) always seems to commit fully to an outfit and sees it as part of a whole concept where the makeup, hair and accessories are equally as important and that is a girl after my own heart. 60s space age empress is the theme here and I’m all about it-well, either that or a feminine editorial take on the tinman from the Wizard of Oz but the former sounds a bit cooler and does way more justice to how good she looks so we’ll go with that. Quick shoutout to Kat Graham too because she looked absolutely radiant. 

(L-R: Shailene Woodley in Balmain, Winnie Harlow in Laquan Smith, and Zoe Kravitz in Saint Laurent)

The trio above I really couldn’t skim over, Winnie Harlow especially; my America’s Next Top Model grudges aside, she consistently turns it out at every event she’s invited to. She’s another woman that wears pieces with such confidence that they look like they were actually made on her body-even if the garment itself isn’t the most breathtaking in the room, she’s the one that draws my attention. Though she’s got these dainty, other-worldly qualities about her, what you’d expect to be a gentle presence is firm and commanding and whilst the sharp drama and glitz of the dress probably helps, that’s just the way Winnie Harlow is naturally, based on her other red carpet appearances. 

Zoe Kravitz is an interesting one because, on the one hand, her looking amazing with that bone structure (I would trade a vital organ to look like that any day) is a given, but it does also seem like she went out of her way to do something a bit different this past awards season. I have always loved her street style for its trademark edge and the androgynous, oversized silhouettes that she leans towards, and the overt femininity of her red carpet dresses is that grungy, skater girl aesthetic completely flipped on its head. It’s cute, and if anyone can pull a dress as kitschy as this off, it’s Zoe. She’s got that just rolled out of bed look we all dream of that screams “I’m over this shit” whereas the rest of us have to rely on dark circles to get the message across. It’s very weird to think that she and Shailene Woodley were in Divergent together, especially since Zoe in particular has changed so much since. 

My main note with Shailene was just that I got excited to see that Balmain dress off the runway-it was one of my favourites from the S/S 2020 collection (IIRC, mostly on the basis that I’m pretty sure it wan’t haute couture), and it looks good! Not wildly good because I’m not sure the fit of the dress is inherently all that flattering, but still good-she makes it work.

(L-R: Taylor Swift in Etro, Sofia Carson in Giambattista Valli and Scarlett Johansson in Vera Wang)

I know a lot of people online didn’t seem to like Taylor Swift’s dress, but she looks cute, imo. I will say that I’m surprised it’s Etro! At first glance I would’ve thought Carolina Herrera or Oscar de la Renta or something along those lines. And predictably, I think Sofia Carson looks flawless. If you’ve read any of my other posts you’re probably sick of hearing it but I really can’t resist anything that is this modern Disney princess, like powder pink layered tulle? Feathers? What did you expect me to say, ew? I think deep down my clothing preferences will always be that of a 9 year old girl and you know what, that’s okay. Sometimes. Well, when it comes to red carpets. That’s when you can kinda get away with it.

(L-R: Bell Powley in Miu Miu, Billy Porter in Alex Vinash, and Charlize Theron in Dior)

There’s a few things worth mentioning when it comes to the above outfits. Firstly, and most importantly, I need to proclaim my love for Billy Porter. No man is doing it like him, honestly. To compare Harry Styles in his pink suits is unfair. The drama and the beauty and the flair that Billy brings every awards ceremony is on another level and that’s all I have to say about that. If you disagree, I’m gonna need a bullet pointed essay-I am that firm in my opinion.

Second, Bell Powley in Miu Miu semi confirms the direction their PR team tend to head in when choosing women to work with. I might be totally alone here but I feel like she and Lucy Hale both have one of those porcelain doll faces which work really well with Miu Miu’s signature girlish silhouettes and overly-ornate details. 

And thirdly, just to restate my earlier point: someone give Charlize Theron a pat on the back for bringing some life to a Dior design. That is all.

(L-R: Jodie Comer in Mary Katrantzou, Joey King in Schiaparelli and Kaitlyn Dever in Valentino)

All the newcomers really turned it out too, which is a sentence I type through gritted teeth; to call Jodie Comer of My Mad Fat Diary origins a newcomer pains the former depressing 2013 black and white Tumblr user in me, though I suppose to the US audiences uncultured in the ways of British teenage angst Vilanelle is her breakthrough role. And how Vilanelle is this dress too!? It’s bold and it’s attention-grabbing and it’s fun and it is definitely very theatrical female fictional villain that you were inexplicably drawn to as a child before you realised why as an adult-”oh, it’s because she was hot”. 

Joey King in Iris van Herpen was a pleasant surprise too considering that when I first looked through the red carpet photos I only knew her as the girl who was in that shitty Netflix original-having watched her in The Act, I apologise for the dismissal! And I admire the sartorial choice! I adore Iris van Herpen designs but as a short girl, wearing one of her dresses to a red carpet event is a risky decision-I hate to admit it because casting a diverse range of people for shows is something I have come to expect of my favourite brands, but the appeal of a lot of IvH pieces comes from the movement of the garments on standard willowy runway models. Fortunately, the styling is really complementary here, and whilst it can’t be denied that the dress itself does swamp her a bit, I liked that she and her stylist stepped out of the box. 

Kaitlyn Dever’s red carpet look is obviously a lot more typical, but you can't go wrong with a Valentino dress, and this one in particular is so suited to the aura she gives off-it’s young and it’s fun and it’s fresh and the intricate floral print, otherwise muted if not for the spring influenced pops of pink and red, is timelessly pretty.

(L-R: Akwafina in Dior, Saoirse Ronan in Celine, Beanie Feldstein in Oscar de la Renta, and Renee Zellweger in Armani)

Lastly, there was Saoirse Ronan in Celine-one of my highlights of the night; she looked phenomenal, a glacial toned dream, and it was pretty different to what I generally expect to see her in. I might be way off base and in need of a bit of a review of her red carpet style, but I feel like she usually leans more towards pretty than edgy with regards to her styling at these kinds of events and a loose fitting, gun metal glittered slip dress is, imo, the perfect way to hit that previously uncharted midway point between the two.

(L-R: Kate Bosworth in Prabal Gurung, Kathryn Newton in Valentino and Sarah Hyland)

Now onto the afterparty looks, and I’m not gonna lie, they’re usually the highlight of the ceremonies for me; I feel like the initial ceremony is all about looking respectful and maintaining that whole dedicated actor image, whereas it seems the literal point of these showbiz parties is a competition to be the best dressed person in the room. Competition really makes people step their game up, and we always get to see more young talent whose style tends to be more current than that of the people we see on the red carpet. 

I’ve got to say, as annoying as I found her character in The Society, I have to overlook that gut instinct of irritation when I see Kathryn Newton and accept how stunning everything going on here is; honestly, she looks like an angel, and I feel like the team at Valentino must reeeeally like her to put her in that dress.

(L-R: Alexa Demie, Ashley Benson in Georges Hobeika, Maude Apatow and Barbie Ferreira)

Obviously I was super excited to see the Euphoria girls on the red carpet, especially Alexa Demie-she does 90s/early noughties inspired glamour better than anyone else on the young actor scene right now and her personal style and the sass she does so well as Maddy Perez shines through every time. Whilst Barbie Ferreira’s look is more casual and achievable for the rest of us in terms of wearability, it’s just as interesting a take on the same period; the delicate pink makeup, hair and jewellery with the 90s inspired slip dress in light teal is a red carpet take on soft grunge for the ages. As for Ashley Benson, she always looks gorgeous and that’s all I’m gonna say before I get emotional and start going into a rant about how her and Cara Delevigne’s relationship was one of the only good things about this shitshow of a year and how now that they’ve broken up the single flame of hope inside me has been extinguished and how their sex swing is gonna get so lonely with them caught in the middle of an ugly custody battle and-

You get the idea.

(L-R: Storm Reid, Sophia Bush in John Paul Ataker, and Sydney Sweeney)

(L-R: Billie Lourd, Paris Hilton, and Camila Morrone)

The Oscars

(L-R: Charlize Theron in Dior, Cynthia Erivo, and Florence Pugh in Louis Vuitton)

Ah, the Oscars. This is where the big money is really spent, and bad decisions are made-in fairness, this year’s winners were a lot more satisfying than usual and I think all of us felt that Parasite was a well-deserved win. I really thought it was gonna be Once Upon a Time in Hollywood just as a bit of a token gesture to Tarantino considering it’s his 9th film, though undoubtedly his worst of the ones I’ve seen, so I was relieved that this wasn’t the case. That being said, it still pains me to see the horror genre being ignored by the academy-in my mind, Florence is here for her performance in Midsommar just as much as Little Women. 

At the risk of getting repetitive, just assume my opinions on Charlize Theron in Dior here are the same again, that Cynthia Erivo is still bringing goddess energy (this is probably my favourite of her looks), and that against the opinion of the masses, Florence looks divine in this colour. I mean, when I say the masses I just mean the people I follow on Twitter, but still, I just wanted be an excuse to be dramatic so that I could insert a meme.

(L-R: Natalie Portman in Dior, Regina King in Versace, Scarlett Johansson in Oscar de la Renta, and Sandra Oh in Elie Saab)

Once again, Scarlett Johansson’s stylist is doing God’s work; this outfit is everythingggg-the Oscar de la Renta dress is probably my favourite thus far. Like we’re talking angel, but make it fitted and sexy, and I hope you read that in the Tyra Banks voice I intended because 2 memes in a row would rob me of any credibility I’m building as a fashion account and I’m not ready to trash that for bad memes just yet; give it a couple of mental breakdowns and I’ll be there. Natalie Portman’s look was a favourite of mine too, with the cape over the top adding a sophisticated touch to the celestial, slightly bohemian feel of the dress. I initially found the detail of the names embroidered into said cape to be quite moving-in a dream world, directing would be my career of choice and so I really admired the statement-but finding out that Portman herself is the only director hired by her own production company ruined that for me a little bit. Then again, multi-millionaire celebrities making performative gestures for good publicity and not doing all that much to make any real change? Colour me shocked.

(L-R: Beanie Feldstein in Miu Miu, Brie Larson in Celine and Billie Eilish in Chanel)

Now, of all the Miu Miu looks so far, I think Beanie Feldstein definitely got the best one. The intricacy of the embroidery, the silhouette, the old Hollywood stye curls-it’s all so graceful. I’d say this is probably her best look of awards season and she and her stylist did a really great job.

And as for Billie Eilish...Guys...do you think she might be wearing...Chanel...by any chance? I’m not sure.

Seriously though, as far as an oversized tweed suit with the brand’s logo emblazoned all over it goes, I like this look. The acid green roots and the jewellery are what make it for me, adding to the grunginess of the outfit which is interesting against Chanel’s prim and proper aesthetic of the last few years. I know she has good reason for the way she dresses, but I’ve never quite been able to appreciate it-this outfit proves to me that her style doesn't automatically equal ugly and occasionally, she can make it work.

(L-R: Leona Lewis, Colton Haynes, Dita von Teese)

Elton John’s Oscars afterparty being the less exciting of the two big ones in terms of fashion-the other being the Vanity Fair afterparty which I’ll cover in a moment-I thought I’d whizz through it (posturing aside though, I bet Sir Elton’s party was a lot more fun).

(L-R: Chiara Ferragni, Donatella Versace, Bella Thorne)

This is a big statement considering Alexa Demie attended, but I think Chiara’s outfit and overall styling might be my favourite of the partygoers; if they decided to do a live action Barbie film in 2020 minus the PG ratio-because lets be real, she’d be a noughties Paris Hilton type and get up to some SHENANIGANS-this is the look that would become iconic. 

(L-R: Ashley Greene in Off-White, Alexa Demie, Sydney Sweeney, Annalynne McCord)

It was a hard decision to make though: I’m just as into Sydney Sweeney’s interpretation of burlesque come 1950s red carpet Barbie, Ashley Greene’s surprisingly delicate Off-White number, and Alexa’s dress and (as always) impeccable styling. That being said, Chiara’s clearest contender here for the best dressed of the night is Annalynne McCord. I know I'm one to throw similes around but she looks like an ACTUAL Disney princess-the dress is magical and an absolutely flawless fit. She carries it with such grace. I'm truly in love.

(L-R: Tessa Thompson in Versace, Vanessa Hudgens in Vera Wang, SZA)

As for the Vanity Fair Oscars afterparty, there were SO many iconic moments this year. SZA was the definition of the fire emoji, Tessa Thompson’s throwback Versace was the mermaid’s take on BDSM fashion I never knew I need to see, and I’d die to turn up to my graduation ceremony (here’s hoping for a successful attempt at the old uni shebang this time, lol) looking as elegant and simultaneously extra as Vanessa Hudgens did in Vera Wang. I mean, this was before Vanessa went on her dumb Instagram live corona rant because she was upset she couldn’t go to Coachella and I still kinda lived for her, mostly because of moments like this. She’s always been the queen of channelling a more hedonistic, carefree era and this dress is the most refined example of that boho decadence yet. It sounds dramatic to say but the rich purple is such a bold choice considering it’s a a colour we rarely see on the red carpet but now I’ve seen eggplant coloured silk I need it, lol. 

(L-R: Suki Waterhouse in Fendi, Lili Reinhart in Marc Jacobs, Lucy Boynton and Margaret Qualley in Chanel)

Then there was Suki, Lilly, Lucy and Margaret as well who all went full angel mode in some of my favourite runway looks of last summer’s haute couture week; Suki’s Fendi dress and Lili’s Marc Jacobs number were highlights of both their shows and there’s something even more magical about them both when the uniformity of the runway is removed. I also would go on about how much I love Lucy Boynton’s style for the millionth time but I think you get my point.

(L-R: Nicole Richie, Cynthia Erivo, Hunter Schafer, Billie Porter)

The more I look at the photos I saved from the Vanity Fair “red” carpet, the more I come to the firm conclusion that these looks are my favourite as a collective. Along with the elegance and sex appeal of the outfits above, we’ve got all these looks too which are so VIBRANT and fun and experimental. Billie Porter is absolutely majestic and continues his reign as the king of in-your-face, theatrical red carpet style, and Hunter and Cynthia look so radiant. Whilst Nicole’s look isn’t as colourful, she still brought drama with the satin gloves and the smoke lined eyes, and she is definitely ready to step on someone’s neck here.

(L-R: Halima Aden, Ella Balinska in Schiaparelli, Emma Roberts, Ciara)

(L-R: Kiki Layne in Michael Kors, Kim Kardashian in Alexander McQueen, Kylie Jenner in Ralph and Russo, Lashana Lynch in Michael Kors)

(L-R: Rowan Blanchard in Iris van Herpen, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, Stella Maxwell, and Sarah Paulson with Holland Taylor)

I’ve got to say, it’s really cool to see Rowan Blanchard in Iris van Herpen too; it’s interesting that as far as I know, she and Joey King were the only ones to wear her this awards season, both being up and coming actresses. It would be a good choice for the brand, probably best known for its futuristic, conceptual aesthetic, to also focus its PR efforts on the young potential inheriting that future. Orrrr it could just be that Rowan, Joey and I have the same (good, lol) taste-not gonna lie, from my experience of stalking her instagram Rowan Blanchard does make some unique fashion choices and her feed is full of bold outfit inspiration.

(L-R: Adriana Lima in Ralph and Russo, Alessandra Ambrosio in Armani, Billie Eilish in Gucci, and Donatella Versace in Versace)

Then there’s Billie Eilish, who is really on another level. This is her second custom made baggy suit of the night, this time Gucci. IMAGINE. Chanel and Gucci making custom pieces to suit your very specific style. Again, though, I really like this; whilst it’s very clearly a Billie outfit, it’s got a level of sophistication, cohesiveness and glamour to it that takes it to that I can admire. 

(L-R: Camila Mendes in Moschino, Barbara Palvin and Dylan Sprouse, and Chiara Ferragni)

Honestly, the Vanity Fair red carpet really belonged to young talent this year, and Camila Mendes in one of my favourite Moschino looks from the Picasso collection really seals it. She could’ve just gone for a basic pretty dress-this isn’t a natural choice-but she really does have the proud, regal look of a woman who knows some man is gonna paint her a portrait that will end up in a famous gallery one day. 

One last thing before I move on, though. How the fuck does Chiara Ferragni get everywhere?! And by that I don’t mean how does she get invited, I had the shock of finding out this woman I followed on Instagram because I liked her outfits and thought she was pretty is a hugely successful businesswoman in Italy long ago. Power to her. She’s a big deal! I get it! I just mean, physically HOW? How do you hit Elton John’s party AND the Vanity Fair party in one night and look this good? God really does have favourites, huh. Well, I guess in this hypothetical scenario where I believe in him anyway. 

The SAG Awards

(L-R: Dakota Fanning in Valentino, Kaitlyn Dever in Ralph Lauren, Scarlett Johansson in Armani, and Zoe Kravitz in Oscar de la Renta)

So, I kinda forgot the SAG awards existed and thought that my post was basically finished before I looked in my folder and saw the one dedicated to this ceremony. My initial reaction was like “oh, this is the shitty Oscars, right?” and I assumed the red carpet would be shit and that I could call it a night-it’s 3:30am, I wish I was calling it a night-but then I looked and saw that I had even more outfit photos saved in that folder than I did for my Oscar dedicated one. Because fuck, I want to to sleep, but the SAG awards had a surprisingly good turn out?! So maybe not as irrelevant a ceremony as I thought? Because Dakota Fanning turned up looking like some divine mythical being again, Scarlett Johansson pulled another incredible look out the bag, Zoe Kravitz was a modernised Audrey Hepburn, and Kaitlyn Dever read my comments about her dress being “timelessly pretty” and said “bitch, you really thought” before showing up looking hot as fuck. Truth be told, I think the SAG awards were first but in this universe where Kaitlyn Dever would pay any attention to my opinion of her outfit do we really care? 

(L-R: America Ferrera, Andrew Scott in Azzaro Couture, Camila Mendes in Ralph and Russo, Caleb McLaughlin )

(L-R: Lupita Nyongo in Louis Vuitton, Lily Allen, Nathalie Emmanuel in Miu Miu, Cynthia Erivo in Schiaparelli)

See, I was going to make a comment above how I took back what I said about Camila Mendes not just going for pretty dresses (which I guess I just did here instead-JUST TO BE CLEAR SHE STILL LOOKS STUNNING) and then I uploaded the next photo set and got distracted by 2 things:

1. How weird it is that British legend Lily Allen, who does not get NEAR enough credit for her smart her songs were might I add, is dating David Harbour AKA. Hopper off Stranger Things!?

2. How mad I still am about Game of Thrones and how dirty the writers did Nathalie Emmanuel (and Emilia Clarke and Lena Heady and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau and basically everyone else on that show but that’s another story).

In this same universe where Kaitlyn Dever cares about my opinion can we make the issues I have in the last bullet point not exist? Please?

(L-R: Sophie Turner in Louis Vuitton, Renee Zellweger in Maison Margiela, Phoebe Waller-Bridge in Armani, and Renee Bargh)

(L-R: Gwendoline Christie in Rick Owens, Madeline Brewer in Monique Lhuillier, Kathryn Newton in Valentino, and Lili Reinhart in Miu Miu)

Finishing off the SAG looks, we’ve got the four above. 

Once again, Kathryn Newton was Valentino’s blushing crown jewell; Allie Pressman hate aside, she really is the perfect dressing up doll for the brand. Fresh faced and poised, she has all the elegance and gentle femininity necessary to make floating down the runway as Valentino models do look natural, and Lili Reinhart did an equally good job being a Miu Miu girl. She makes that idiosyncratic cutesy-ness work, all the frills and fragility of a china tea set look easy where I’d just look like I’d been consumed by a charity shop doily. Madeline Brewer did a good job too, helping a Monique Lhuillier design pop in a way that it doesn’t usually. When your hair is bright red and your dress cerulean blue, coral tinted lipstick is a *ahem* choice, buuut in this case it paid off because the result is a look which demanded my attention-ML dresses are reliably pretty, however, they tend to be predictable. Madeline and her styling did a good job subverting that formula. To end the section, though, I feel it’s only fair to save my fave woman til last-probably one of the few people in the world that isn’t a Rick Owens model that can pull off his designs. Ofc, I’m talking about the queen that is Gwendoline Christie. If we’re talking embodying brands, she did justice like nobody else could to the spectacle of Owens’ formidable, out-of-this-world aesthetic. This is her version of the princess moment, and when you’re as striking as she is, nothing less would do. 

At least my girl Brienne of Tarth is thriving<3

The Grammys

(L-R: Ariana Grande in Giambattista Valli, Cardi B in Mugler, and Pia Mia in Julien Macdonald)

TBH, like I said with the Brits, I never planned to do any music award ceremony red carpets, just because I feel like the fashion tends to be more geared towards a younger audience buuuut I’m kinda glad I changed because Ariana looks INCREDIBLE. MESMERISING. TRANSCENDENT. JFC. There’s a reason the photo of her on her Wiki page has been changed to one from this night and it’s because she looks absolutely exquisite, like some kind of moon goddess with an R&B touch which I suppose is kind of her brand? Sometimes I go kind of lukewarm on Giambattista Valli and forget how mystical but at the same time frothy and indulgent and all around luxurious the pieces can be. This is a cupcake of a dress and I want to eat it. Cardi B has become a bit of an unexpected fashion icon and Pia Mia looks as hot-party-girl as ever but I feel to put anyone next to Ariana in this dress seems harsh because she just completely stole the show and I don’t even know if she won any Grammys.

(L-R: Josephine Relli, Gwen Stefani, Jameela Jamil in Georges Chakra, and Chrissy Teigen in Yanina Couture)

Other than Ariana, I’m not gonna lie, there was nothing wildly exciting, BUT I did think there were some beautiful colours out on the runway-plus for all her occasionally bad takes I really like what Jameela Jamil stands for and her style has always been very quirky cool. The electric blue tiled effect with the black mesh underneath kinda reminds me of a peacock, and contrasts wonderfully with the carpet-it’s very reminiscent of her T4 days. She’s one of those people that seems to get aggression directed at her that’s completely disproportionate to whatever it is she’s supposed to have done; sometimes the way she goes about saying things is wrong but the intention behind what she’s saying is usually good. Then again, the internet still despises Chrissy Teigen (in a way that’s kind of excessive considering what we seem to collectively let some people get away with) for a dumb AirPods tweet and I’ve included her too. THIS IS NOT A POLITICAL STATEMENT, this time anyway. I just think she looks good!

If I’m going to get controversial about anything, it’ll be Gwen Stefani. She looks stunning, the dress is stunning, and the boots are stunning. The outfit is not my problem! My problem is how she seems not to have aged at all. This woman is 50 years old! That she drank the blood of her Harajuku girls is the only explanation here. Can you imagine if she tried to pull that shit today? She’d get rightly accused of being a culturally appropriating weeb in about 10 seconds flat and we’d have to pretend to stop liking Cool and Hollaback Girl. 

(L-R: Finneas O’Connell in Gucci, Lucky Daye, and Shaun Ross)

(L-R: Tess Holliday, Dua Lipa in Alexander Wang, Tyler the Creator, and Grace Elizabeth in Giuseppe di Morabito)

Back to what I’m supposed to be talking about in this blog post: the fashion. And here, most importantly, Tyler the Creator looking like a cast member of the Grand Budapest Hotel. IDK why. But I love this man.

(L-R: Lil Nas X in Versace, Lizzo in Versace, and Shawn Mendes in Louis Vuitton)

(L-R: Billie Porter, FKA Twigs in Ed Marler, and Swae Lee in Giuseppe Zanotti)

See in general, the men were a lot more interesting on the Grammys red carpet. With the exception of Twigs, Dua and obviously Ariana, the men’s outfits are a lot more memorable; Billie Porter became the most fashionable meme on the internet, for god’s sake. And even when their outfits weren’t extravagant, they were just more interesting, imo, which is a rare occurrence. I didn’t expect Finneas O’Connell to be the writing half of Billie Eilish (the other half being Billie herself) I cared about and yet, in that Gucci blazer, here we are. 

(L-R: Jessie J, Hailee Steinfeld, and Madison Beer)

(L-R: H.E.R, Usher, FKA Twigs, and Matt Shultz)

Of the afterparty looks, my favourites are what we can see of these more casual outfits-I love what F.K.A Twigs and H.E.R are wearing, the headscarf with the leatherjacket on top is in particular very throwback rockabilly, and I’m even into whatever it is Usher’s got on.

(L-R: Olivia O’Brien, Amine, and Alrissa)

(L-R: Salem Mitchell, Machine Gun Kelly, and Sydney Sweeney)

Now, how to round this all up!? How to relate the confusingly persistent but very welcome presence of Sydney Sweeney on, like, ALL these red carpets back to the MET!?

IDEK. It’s been a long year. 

The Met Gala has usually come and gone before we know it, but with everything going on, it’s been the longest January-May I think most of us have ever known. I keep going on about COVID-19 in all my posts now but I have almost forgotten how to write an intro and outro because the pandemic is pretty much consistently on the brain and unless I have something right in front of me to use as a distraction, my mind tends to wander off into a very anxious place. I think, like many others, I feel frustrated and disappointed and angry with the way the situation is being handled by the people who are supposed to protect their citizens, and by how much of a fight some are putting up against measures that are in place to try and save lives. The point of this ramble, I guess, is that whilst we should never forget what’s going on and do the best we can to help prevent the spread of the virus, it’s okay to still care about mundane shit. Was this post one big long distraction for me? Probably. But if there’s something harmless you can do to keep your anxiety at bay, don’t feel bad for doing it. Contrary to popular belief, you can care about more than one thing at once. You can be sad that something you were looking forward to has been cancelled whilst still being sad for the people who are suffering because they’ve lost love ones or who have been forced into precarious living conditions. If talking about clothes on the internet is going to help you get through this pandemic, power to you.

If anyone has read til the end, thank you! I hope you are well! As always, feel free to reply to the post or inbox me with your thoughts! It doesn’t even have to be related to this post. If you’re struggling with everything going on, feel free to reach out too. I spend too much time on the internet anyway, lol! My plans are to finish my fashion week reviews and then I have a Lana Del Rey albums inspired lookbook which I pinched off the stans on Twitter (who I will of course credit when I write it!). For the time being, look after yourselves!

Lauren x

[lezliefaithwade]

Thin Ice

Before I read “Harriet The Spy” I used to carry around a small notebook into which I wrote little tidbits about people I saw on street corners or at the mall. I was, and still am, obsessed with watching people. I’ve always been curious about their lives and how they tick.  City buses were particularly good hunting grounds for quirky characters. Every day on my way to school I would wait to see what group of misfits the bus would collect and then in detail I’d write things like:

Friday -

The lady with the strange hat gets on at Ferry Street with her large mesh bag and shuffles to her regular seat behind the driver. Even though she’s four seats away from me, I can smell garlic and rose petals. She wears stockings that sag at her ankles and reminds me of elephants. I wish I could follow her. I wonder where she goes and what she puts inside that large mesh bag. 

This habit of documenting events and people soon found its way into everyday life. It was, I see now, the equivalent of the cell phone. As long as I was engaged in my little book, I was safe from being noticed. Inherently introverted, I was never comfortable in large groups of people. High school parties were just painful reminders that I wasn’t pretty enough, or funny enough, or tall enough, or skinny enough and so I learned to hide. My notebook and pen became my shield of armour protecting me from engaging with the world.  But even Superman has his kryptonite and mine was a boy named Richard. 

Richard figure skated every Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday at the same arena where I took lessons. Inspired by the artistry of Toller Cranston, and Oksana Baiul I was obsessed with the idea of speed and grace on ice. I wasn’t a great figure skater, but I was good enough to manage basic skills. No one paid much attention to me as I attempted camel spins and axels and spread eagles.  The arena divas who shouted at you to “MOVE!” as they came flying into the corners got all the attention and I was just fine with that. I didn’t skate for anyone but myself. 

My father, who paid for classes from his small paycheck, told me that I could only take lessons if I agreed to pass the CFSA (Canadian Figure Skating Association) tests. He figured that the acquisition of badges justified the expenditure. Perhaps he also thought that failing to achieve the badges might convince me that I didn’t have a future in skating. Either way, that was the deal. So, along with three lessons a week on jumps, spins and flips, I spent an hour every Wednesday on what was known in the skating world as compulsory figures practiced on a piece of clean and shiny ice called a Patch. I hated patch. It was dull, boring, useless work trying to trace circles and curly cues going forward and backward using the different edges of your skate blade. I was horrible at it. Impatient and bored I counted the minutes until it was over; and so it was that on one particular Wednesday, while attempting to trace a circle…I fell. It’s one thing to fall attempting a lutz or an axel. That signals a certain amount of intestinal fortitude.  Falling on patch is practically unheard of. Imagine a stack of books falling in a library? Or a tin pot crashing onto the floor in a monastery where the monks have taken a vow of silence? That is what my crash landing was like at patch. Everyone stopped, stared and laughed. This was the ultimate humiliation for someone who did not want to be noticed. What was I to do but pick myself up and continue.

The rest of my session was agony. I couldn’t go home. Wasting hard earned cash was unheard of in my family. But I didn’t have the heart to skate. All my confidence had been sucked out of me. I imagined everyone wondering what I was doing at the rink. I didn’t belong. I set a bad example for the club. I didn’t even have a mother who could help me stake my claim on the ice, like all the other girls. Even in the change room, I only took up as much space as was absolutely necessary. Without my notebook to hide behind, I was vulnerable and afraid.  As I shoved my skates into my bag and grabbed my coat for the long walk home, Richard stopped me. 

“Nice fall on patch,” he said, not unkindly.

“Whatever,” I mumbled attempting to squeeze past him to the door.

“No,” he said, “I mean it. I hate patch. I always think I’m going to fall and now, I don’t have to worry. You’ve broken the stigma. Thanks.”

“Glad to be of service,” I smirked.

Richard was an excellent skater. He was strong and lean and his lines on the ice were lovely. Being only one of three male skaters at our club, it was hard not to notice him. He had ginger coloured hair, not unlike mine, and freckles. He had that boy next door look that reminded me of a less popular Ron Howard.  I was not in his league. 

“Listen,” he added, “I was wondering if you would be interested in going with me to my grade 12 formal?”

To this day I will never quite understand what Richard saw in me or why my disastrous fall inspired a guy I didn’t know to ask me out for the first time in my life. I was so in shock that before I knew it, I had said “yes.” Later I would come to realize that Richard had actually seen me before. The only female chess member in the Niagara region, I had beat my male opponent during a match at his school.  

As the formal grew closer and closer, I began to have second thoughts. I’d never been on a date in my life but I had some idea of what might be expected, especially at a formal. I didn’t go to his school. I barely knew him. What if he tried to hold my hand? What if he tried to kiss me? What about dancing? What about slow dancing? I was overwhelmed with fear. This would not be the first time in my life that I said “yes” when I wanted to say “no”. It would take me many years to gain that kind of courage. 

As the formal grew closer and closer it began to consume me. I took up an entire English class with my dilemma, soliciting the advice of my teacher and fellow students. I summoned up the courage to call Richard on the phone with the plan to cancel, but he insisted he’d spent a lot of money and guilted me into going through with it. With each passing day, I found myself disliking him more and more. At one point he called to make sure I was still going. 

“Do I have a choice?” I asked him.

“Not really,” he said. And that was that.

Back at my own high school, I was becoming the centre of unwanted attention as everyone started to weigh in on my dilemma. One classmate took it upon himself to warn me of all the things Richard might try to do. 

“If he reaches over to do up your seat belt, look out,” he warned. “If he locks your door, be careful.”

My head was spinning. 

On the day of the formal I got dressed and was ready by 6:30. Richard picked me up at 8:00. In my journal I wrote: He brought me a corsage of roses. I don’t really like roses, but of course if he’d taken the time to get to know me, he would have discovered that. The moment I got into his car he did up my seat belt and locked my door. I swallowed hard, held my housekeys in my fist and girded my loins.

There was a dance, and dinner and more dancing. Richard was not particularly popular but he was respected. I don’t remember a lot of kids talking to him. Mostly he was just congratulated for winning every award at his school and a scholarship to McMaster. We did have one thing hugely in common – we were both nerds. 

The thing I dislike about parties is that I never get to do what I really want, which is to talk. School dances were always an excuse to test sexual waters under half lit gymnasiums with mirror balls.  If Richard and I had gone off to a stairwell to discuss current events, I think the evening might have been a huge success. But the pressure to be romantic was palpable.  At one point he tried to hold my hand and I said I needed it to hold up my dress. I wrote in my journal that he danced so close to me that I could feel his knee in my stomach. THAT is how naïve I was. He tried to kiss me but I wouldn’t let him and eventually, finally, the night came to an end and he drove me home. I was almost out of the car when to my utter amazement he asked me out again. In so many words, I said, “No.” Not an actual “no” but one in so many words.

Richard wasn’t a bad guy. He just hadn’t paid attention to the fact that we were better suited as friends than something more. I would have liked it if we could have occasionally competed at chess. Intellectually matched, we could have discussed Turgenev or world religion or shared our adolescent poems in the park or songs on the guitar sitting cross-legged in a family room. And if I’d been better adjusted, more confident, I might have been able to suggest this alternative. But I wasn’t. I spent a long time feeling very guilty about how I’d behaved. I felt mean and selfish for having ruined his prom. I wondered if at any point he understood how terrified I had been?

The following Monday as I boarded the city bus, relieved that the ordeal of dating was over, I pulled out my little notebook ready to remark on the misfits on the bus when I realized that I was one of them. I wasn’t like everyone else, but then again – who is? Sooner or later I would have to face the music and dance and notebooks, skating lessons and chess club, no matter how solitary was not going to protect me forever from being noticed. This was not a bad thing, just something new to consider.

[jj-lynn21]

The dress ch 1

Warnings: fluff, a little strip tease

ch2 ch3 ch4

Need a little fluff plus because my day was less than perfect. My car slid on ice and hit another car on my way to a Doctors appointment. It was a retired cop’s car. The guy seemed nice and we exchanged info. He was in a hurry to get to an appointment. I barely got my car home before it started over-heating. My front end smashed more than the other guys back end. My mom was able to drive me to my doctor’s appointment. Its 14 hours later and a policeman came to my house to take my statement and take pictures of my car. Thank goodness the officer didn’t give me a ticket even though it was my fault since you can’t blame ice. So, heres a day I rather have…

Princess hadn’t heard from Bill all week, but she didn’t really expect to since he had so many projects going on at once. Meetings to go over scripts and readings and a few other auditions. She was busy also. She had auditions for different projects every day.

Even though she was told that would happen after the reality show wrapped, she really didn’t believe it was happening. She had a meeting with an agent that Bill suggested that was helping her sift her way through offers to pick ones that were the most interesting to her.

Her agent was able to score her a ticket to the sag awards. Her agent told her it would be a great place to meet other actors that would possibly help her in the future. She took the ticket and debated on whether she really want to go. On her way home from her agent she got a text.

       Bill: Hey, I sent you something today. Text me back when you have it.

Curiosity and excitement ruled her brain as she drives in the bumper to bumper L.A. traffic. She finally gets home and finds a white box with a black bow sitting by her apartment door. She takes its inside. A big smile sweeps over her face. She texts him back.

       Princess: I just got the box outside. I’m about to open it.

Bill calls her right back on video chat. She answers right away. “Hi, baby boy. So what’s in the box?”

Bill grins, “I wanted to watch you open it Princess.”

She sets the phone so he can she her opening the box. First sliding the bow off. Then she takes the lid off the box. Her face emanated surprise to see the A-line fit and flare silhouette black lace dress, choker and a pair of stiletto pumps.

Bill said, “’So you like it?”

Princess gushes, “I love it. If you were here, I would kiss you.”

Serious Bill said, “Go a head and kiss me through the phone. Don’t be shy. I will kiss you back.”

He puts his lips to the phone screen. Princess giggles but follows suit to as he said, kiss him through the phone. They both pull back at the same time.

Bill said, “I know its not the same as me being there, but it’s something.”

Princess giggles again, “My phone shocked my lips a little.”

Bill raises a brow, “How did that feel?”

Princess said, “it wasn’t what I expected kissing you.”

Bill chuckles, “So, can I send a car for you Sunday? There is a preparty at 6pm. Then they present awards at 7pm. And an after party I would like you to attend with me, if you want to.”

Princess squeals, “Yes, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go because I won’t know that many people. But I think I would have fun with you.”

He smiles, “Good, I don’t like being alone at these things either. I know people but I still feel like a stranger in the room with my brother fluttering around talking to everyone and kissing everyone. He’s just so damn social.”

Princess said, “I have a very social brother also. I will see you Sunday then?”

Bill says, “Definitely, Princess. Can you do one more thing for me tonight?”

She said, “Sure?”

Bill looks at her as he sits back on a couch, “I miss you so much Princess. Can you, um would slowly take your cloths off. Its cool if you don’t want to, but we won’t see each other until Sunday and after that it will be more of these late-night video chats until I get a break. I just want to keep every part of your body in the front of my mind.”

Princess took a deep breath, “No one else is there, right?”

Bill moves the phone around the hotel room, “No one but us.”

She puts on If we kissed by Fiona Apple. Then starts to dance in his view. She lifts her shirt up to reveal the lacy pink bra underneath and pulls off her shirt. Dancing seductively, moving her hips, bending ever so slightly and turns her head towards him sucking on her finger slightly. His eyes are wide, but his look is other wise expressionless. She stands to slide her skirt off down to the floor and steps out of it. Her under wear of course match the bra a small amount of lace barely covering her ass.

Then she puts her foot up on the table to roll down her knee highs. She flings them right over her phone. He is biting his lower lip now as he watches intently focus. “You are so fucking Beautiful.”

She winks at him as Darling Nicki by Prince starts to play. She turns her back to him as she takes off her bra to fling it over the phone. When she turns, she has her arms crossed around her breasts. “come on Princess. Let me see them, please?”

She slowly removes her hands. He lets out a whimper. She continues to dance until she falls on the couch where she puts her legs in the air and takes off the panties. Princess spreads her legs wide and then closes quickly as she hears Bill groan. “Damn that is so good to at least see.”

The song ends and Princess sits on the couch head back legs apart. In a minute she looks up to him on video. “Was that what you had in mind Bill?”

“Yeah, more than I was even imagining really. Thank you,” Bill said.

“I’ll see you Sunday then?” Princess asks.

He nods a yes. She kisses the screen again before hanging up. 

[stevenrogered]

idk who andrew garfield’s stylist has been the past few months but i want to kiss them in appreciation lol

[secret-time-is-here]

The King and his Aid; Trials

Chapter 1, part 1: King to be, bride to find, heir to come

[Try and guess when and where this takes place, I dare you.]

Previous - First (Season 1) - First (Season 2) - Next

Sunlight poured onto the walls and floor as the high rising dark curtains were pulled back, letting the monochromatic blue and black room be bathed and transformed with the rising of the blissfully orange and red dawn. Layers of blankets ruffled and moved as they struggled to hide from the morning. Chuckling sounded near them then blankets were pulled off them, but with the shade of the still chuckling figure, they continued to fight their internal war for the prize of rest.

“C’mon Nightmare!” The looming shadow fought out as their chuckling grew to laughter, they opened their eyes and woke to an undeniably handsome sight, even if they hated to admit that they loved it. “Your duty’s await and I’m not going through some dumb punishment because you can’t get your bony butt out of bed again.”

They pulled themself up from the plush of their bed-accepting their fate to their “Chores”-and sleepily yawned, looking over to the clock by his side to see it was still the early hours of the morning. The hands barely reaching seven and twelve.

“Why does the day have to start so early again?” Their froggy voiced asked as their formal attire was tossed to them, nearly hitting them in the face, until his crown was hurtling toward him and gave a hard clink as it hit his skull-leaving a stinging sensation in its wake.

“You get up early? Neil, I have to wake up an hour before you-but your question-you wake up at seven because you have your elegantly boring royal duties to attend to. Just get dressed so we can get to everything we need to do today before your dates start showing.” Neil sluggishly got up watching as his long-time friend and aid walked out of the room, leaving him alone to dress while he griped, remembering that he did indeed have to get everything for the day done before the Princess started to show.

Dragging on his undershirt, pulling up his jacket and getting his tie tucked tight the royal grumbled to himself, the Princess’ were bound to be brats, or at the least spoiled. Parents just did too much for them, guess he should be lucky he grew up without his.

Pants on, socks pulled up high and shoes properly tied, he walked calmly out of his room and with his aid by his side again, they set out for the day.

“What’s first on the list, Ed?” Neil asked as they strode passed maids and guards heading to switch out with the night watch, the coral reef of the sky turning to its proper calming blue as the sun grew higher with each of their steps.

“Please my Prince, Error is a better nickname- and Edwin works just as well.” His aid whined, not enjoying the shortening of his name as always.

“You’re my closest and best friend, I think we’re long past formalities, and Error is just mean.” The Prince laughed, knowing deep down that being best friends wasn’t all of what their relationship was.

“Still,” Edwin spoke, “But, the list for today.” A shorter than usual paper was produced from one of his less tattered coat pockets, “A stop by the Head of Military and Military Sciences, breakfast with Prince Dean, a short meeting for expectations for the ball as well as a rundown on the schedule for the party, then a break for lunch,

“After that, we have a free slot until the ball starts-dinner will be during and it will end late evening, a study period on politics and battle strategies, and then the day is over and you can head to bed.” Edwin took a deep breath after he finished the list. At the least, they had less to do, only a short hello to Military short meeting and a small study period? Neil would call that a win any day, and he was sure Edwin would as well, the servant had to go everywhere with him after all.

However, the ball-that was sure to be… fun. Hopefully, he could just watch from his throne and not have to partake in the activities, he didn’t want to get anywhere near the likely demented and psychotic young women, don’t want any of them getting attached. The prince knew well how mean some women could get, sometimes he could walk down the hall to a barreling pair of maids fighting over a man, or even something as silly as which guard would treat them better.

Although, it didn’t really matter which was better or who they were fighting over, if they were both in love with him-he likely had a wife and probably kids to boot at home, if they were both in relations with him-he more than definitely had at the least three more he was cheating on, if they were debating-a wife and kids come into play again. None of that actually matter though, with the guards' role of protecting their average kingdom that had its fair share of crime and war, any armored suit you saw could be dead the next day for all you knew.

Doors opened in front of the young pair as they walked outside to the barracks and secluded buildings of the Military and its quite crazy head of sciences. The grass was freshly mowed and the bushes were being trimmed around them as the gorgeous bushels of flowers and plants were watered, the air was fresh with spring and promised for a delightful summer. The smell of pollen and mildew filled their nasal cavities as they squinted through the rays of the bright sun.

Another pair of doors opened, but this time they transformed their wide and free world into a cold secluded and dark space, the sparse few that were in the halls quickly parted to give space for the elder Prince and the high commanding aid.

Walking straight down and to the Head office, they were happy to see the General was waiting for them there as well.

“Good morning, Generals.” Neil respectively bowed, Edwin following his lead, not speaking as he’d been taught. He was high in his role as the to be King’s aid, but that only went passed Guards, Maids, and Workers, the title barely made it a percentage lower in respect when it came to the Heads’ and Generals.

The two respective Heads’ looked towards them, the General with a warmly cold stare and the familiar black scars under his eyes, while the Military Sciences Head sat calmly at his desk, his eyes slightly shaking and crazed with ideas of destruction and war-the Head was lucky he was useful, he would’ve already been killed by the sharp jaw of a guillotine otherwise.

“Good morning, my liege. Long-time no see, Edwin,” The Head General saluted, the aid replied with a silent salute, “Now don’t be like that, you can talk to us you know.” The General continued, giving a wink and smile. This was a private and locked head office, he wasn’t going to be chasted for talking with people that he should be in the same league with.

“Thank you, General,” Ed spoke in a hushed and unsure tone.

“Please,” The Head started, “We’re friends-I even trained you!” A hearty laugh came from him, “Call me Keith.”

“Of course, Sir Keith.”

“Can’t get those rules out of you, can we?” Keith tsked, crossing his arms with a disappointed look, the awards jingling on his suit as he pushed his hat up to see better.

“Keith,” The other head spoke up, “We’ve gathered for a shortstop by, not a catchup-we should get started on the summaries already.”

“Right-Right, sorry Douglass,” Kieth exclaimed, but then lowered his voice to a whisper, “You’re just mad you’re not working on some explosive-”

“I heard that-” Doug started, snaping his skull to glare daggers at Kieth before remembering the need to keep his cool-especially in front of the King to be of all people-and turned back to Neil and Edwin, “Sorry for that my Lord. Anyhow, the workers and I have been working on some more advanced weapons with our progressing technology, if all goes well they should help to ensure our win in battle.”

Neil nodded and looked to Keith, expecting a somewhat similar summary from him.

The General tensed under the Prince’s gaze but then lifted his chest high and kept a controlled and powerful expression as he answered the silent question from the King to be.

“Nothing much of importance has happened,” Keith saluted, “we have run tests with the new weapons and gotten a few dozen more soldiers trained, they are on the sidelines and ready for war or to take up a guards place.”

Neil nodded accepting the-dare he say-disappointing results of the past month, controlled and calm, as to not show his displeasure, he thanked the two for their work and with Edwin following silent and obedient left to the gardens.

“That was a great waste of my time.” The Prince concluded, “It’s nice to see them and all, but I do wish they got more done between the monthly checks.”

“That’s why we have the summaries, my Prince, to check their progress and with the right motivation, hopefully, speed the elongated process.” The aid reminded making Neil grumble, either way, it was a waste of time. He should really get that appeal for reports into the court already. If it was passed it’d make things so much more efficient.

An archway passed overhead as they marched into the gardens, following the winding path around bushes and flowers, trees sagging with fruit begging to be picked despite being not yet ripe. The light of day slowing inching its way from early morning to noon.

A roofed patio came into few, secluded from the castle the royals called home and sitting patiently in the center of the garden. A voice reached Neil as they reached closer to the building.

“Neil! Where have you been?” A worried and scolding tone sounded, “I was almsot considering starting breakfast without you!” They continued, the Elder prince chuckled in response, Edwin struggling not to join in as the younger’s worry was all too much.

“Brother, please. If you were so worried you could’ve sent a guard and message for me, you have several of them dedicated to your every movement as it is.” Neil laughed, taking a seat across the table from his only family, Ed patiently standing next to the Prince. “Do you wish a seat, Edwin?”

The aid gave a silent nod and took a seat next to his friend. Neil’s brother gave a look of disgust before shaking it off, as much as he hated it, the aid was close to them and practically part of the royal family.

“Now, back to you worrying over nothing, Dean.” Neil cockily smiled, setting his elbows on his knees and chin on his phalanges.

“Neil, please. How do you expect to find a Queen when you can’t stay serious?” Dean deadpanned, not amused in the slightest by his brother's childish comment.

“That’s where the truth falls, I’m not expecting to find a Queen-”

“You need to continue our bloodline, Neil.” Dean emphasized, snarling at the King to be as a few maids shyly approached with their breakfast, shakily setting it on the table.

“Thank you, miss’.” The prince thanked, unfazed by his brother’s antics. The maids gave a quick curtsey and left with small smiles on their faces, “Dean,” he started, turning his attention to the younger prince, “What matter’s is I’m able to lead or town and keep it standing, if a good Queen comes into the Ball today then she does, if she does not then we call all move on from this silly business of needing an heir. You can produce one just as well as I or any other male could.” Neil challenged, having had this argument with Dean too many times before.

Dean picked at his food and rolled his eyes, Edwin sat silently as always, Neil always brought this up and lead the argument to an end. The aid just hoped it would always work to stop the younger’s bickering.

Neil carefully finished the little on his plate as Edwin finished off the measly buttered biscuit he had grabbed.

With not so much as another look at Dean, he excused Edwin and himself and quickly departed to the meeting room.

Neil’s star was cold as they walked, staring ahead as the aura around him grew to a chill in the heat of the spring sun. Edwin silently followed as always, however, a worried look took to his expression as he meagerly glanced back and forth from the path in front of them to his Prince.

Eventually, he sighed and took a long deep breath as their pace started to slow. He raised a hand and placed it onto the Prince’s shoulder. The air stopped freezing around them, and their feet rooted below them.

The aura from Neil started to calm and thaw, and when the warm rays of sun started to be felt by the two again, the royal looked over to his best friend. A chuckled sounded.

“I’m just a Nightmare, aren’t I?” Edwin started to rub his shoulder comfortingly.

“And I’m an Error.” A soft smile snailed its way to his lips, “We’re not perfect.”

Neil gave a nod, a bright smile quickly appearing with Edwin's words, he was the only one that could ever cheer him up.

They ventured on with their pinkies intertwined and calm but confident smiles happily staring ahead toward their future.

Dream and Nightmare belong to @jokublog

Killer belongs to @rahafwabas

Dust belongs to @ask-dusttale

Error belongs to @loverofpiggies

[shels-kpop-main]

Can I request #24 with Gwil please? I love your writing so much. Thank you for writing it if you can 💕 have a lovely rest of your day

24. Seeing each other dressed up (for the first time) for a formal occasion.

A/N: Let’s say this is before the SAG Awards cause Gwil looked like an absolute Treat that night.

“Are you ready, love?”

Gwilym’s voice was gentle from outside the bathroom. You swept your hair out of your face and reached over to open the door. When you pushed it open, Gwilym’s jaw dropped, and so did yours.

Gwilym was dressed to the nines, in a perfectly-tailored black suit and bow tie. It fit him well, and he owned the look like he invented it. You had never seen him dressed so well. His look was softened ever so slightly by the scruff on his face, but even that was trimmed so nicely that it only added to his appearance. And his eyes were positively sparkling as they took in the sight of you.

You wore a ravishing midnight-blue dress that cinched at the waist. Gold sparkled around your neck and on your fingers. You only had one thing left to add before you’d be ready to go. Although, with Gwil looking the way he did, it was more appealing to you to just stay in.

“One moment, I just need to put on a bit of lipstick.” You smiled up at Gwil, whose eyebrows were still raised in amazement.

“Well, now, hang on,” Gwilym replied, moving close to you. You giggled, and reached up to adjust his bow tie. He put his hands on your waist, careful not to squeeze too hard and wrinkle the fabric. He watched you intently as you focused on the task at hand.

“Don’t…” Gwilym trailed off, gazing at you with love (and something more flirtatious) in his eyes. “…don’t put on your lipstick just yet.”

“Oh?” You played dumb, smiling coyly as he titled your chin up.

“Not yet,” he murmured, fingers brushing over your bare lips.

“And why is that?” You tilted your face into his hand, holding his gaze.

“I’d hate to ruin it,” Gwilym answered, and leaned down to kiss you.

You had been kissed many times in your life, and many times improperly so. Men would use their tongues too soon, or end up drooling on you. Or being too handsy. But Gwilym gave you no such kisses, always taking care to move slowly and deliberately. His painstaking attention to detail made your head spin every time.

This kiss was no different. Gwilym had one hand resting on your waist still, with the other cupping your face gently. His lips were warm on yours, and his beard scratched softly against your skin. He smelled amazing–he’d worn that cologne you got him for Christmas last year–and it wasn’t long before you found yourself pulling him closer.

With your arms around his neck, you pressed yourself to him firmly. Your heels made up a little bit for the height difference, but Gwil still had to lean down to comfortably press his mouth to yours. Something that he had no problem doing, by the way. But his favorite thing to do was to pick you up mid-kiss.

Which is exactly what Gwilym did, wrapping both arms around your waist and lifting you off the ground. You smiled into the kiss, feeling him do the same. He held you there, several inches above the floor, until you pulled away.

“You look so handsome,” you told him as he slowly set you back down. He didn’t let go of you right away, though.

“Thank you. God, you look beautiful.” His eyes were shining as he lifted your arm over your head and turned his hand, prompting you to twirl. You giggled as you spun, and Gwilym shook his head, still smiling.

“Go on, then,” he nodded, grinning. “Put on your lipstick and let’s head out.”

“Yes, sir,” you answered, giving him a dramatic salute before heading to the bathroom.

[tocinephile]

I Guess Award Shows Are Still A Thing...?

Shortly after 8pm EST on Sunday, February 27, 2022 it dawned on me there was a little thing called the SAG Awards on and not only had I not felt inclined to find some red carpet coverage, the show had begun and I didn't even know how to watch it here in Canada.

Let's not kid ourselves, me being me, I found an online stream pretty fast and got caught up on the latest fashion news on Twitter while listening to acceptance speeches. In light of the current state of the world, I gave it a few minutes thought and decided not to live tweet in order to make space in the vast expanse of social media for more important messages to get out there. As well I feel the interest in red carpets and award shows has waned over the pandemic, coupled by the Golden Globes' fall from grace.

The 28th Screen Actors Guild Awards was a return to an in-person star-studded gala, but notably lacked a host, although Lin-Manuel Miranda, Daveed Diggs, and Leslie Odom Jr. were there to kick it off and wrap things up. I obviously missed the intro but if I remember correctly it typically starts with actors in the audience doing individual segments ending with "I'm an actor". I'm sure it was good.

At the end of the day, few speeches stuck with me, though I seemed to have missed Troy Kotsur's speech, he was the first deaf actor to earn a nomination and won his category! The Ukraine appeared to be on many people's minds and the outpouring of support was heartwarming. Brian Cox expressed solidarity with Volodymyr Zelenskyy, who was also an actor/comedian prior to his political career.

As I struggled to concentrate and lose myself in the celebrities and glitz, I realized I may have missed a golden opportunity at some fun and charitable support at the same time. I should have made a list of predictions for these awards, having likely seen a record number of the nominees this year, and donated $2 for every correct prediction and $5 for every incorrect prediction in support of the Ukraine. It's my sincere hope that by the time the Oscars roll around in one month's time that Putin will have self-destructed and his troops long retreated, but if not I will have to make some additional donations this way (and invite everyone to play along).

Let's look at the winners...

Outstanding Performance by a Cast in a Motion Picture CODA — Eugenio Derbez, Daniel Durant, Emilia Jones, Troy Kotsur, Marlee Matlin, Ferdia Walsh-Peelo (WINNER) Belfast Don’t Look Up House of Gucci King Richard

Seeing CODA take home this award was heartwarming and shows the support that the acting community has for one another. As they read the nominees I thought about all the powerhouse casts and mused "but wouldn't it be nice if CODA won instead?" AND THEY DID!

Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Leading Role Jessica Chastain (The Eyes of Tammy Faye) (WINNER) Olivia Colman (The Lost Daughter) Lady Gaga (House of Gucci) Jennifer Hudson (Respect) Nicole Kidman (Being the Ricardos)

I haven't seen Respect, but amongst the rest I liked The Eyes of Tammy Faye the least as a film, but Jessica Chastain the most in terms of performance. If I could make a personal pick though, I'd likely choose Lady Gaga, she was so suited to play Patrizia Reggiani.

Outstanding Performance by a Male Actor in a Leading Role Will Smith (King Richard) (WINNER) Javier Bardem (Being the Ricardos) Benedict Cumberbatch (The Power of the Dog) Andrew Garfield (Tick, Tick … Boom!) Denzel Washington (The Tragedy of Macbeth)

I saw every film in this category and I have to say I would've chosen Will Smith last to win. Not because he wasn't good, but because it didn't feel like much of a stretch, and if you argue that it was a subtle performance...I didn't think it was *that* subtle. My personal favourite was Benedict Cumberbatch. I am continually impressed by Andrew Garfield and his range, Javier Bardem rarely disappoints, and Denzel was imposing in portrayal of MacBeth.

Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Supporting Role Ariana DeBose (West Side Story) (WINNER) Caitriona Balfe (Belfast) Cate Blanchett (Nightmare Alley) Kirsten Dunst (The Power of the Dog) Ruth Negga (Passing)

I don't know if I have a personal favourite in this category though I do think Caitriona Balfe is underrated in her contributions to Belfast. Ruth Negga was also good, but she needed a better vehicle for her performance. I don't think people underestimate Kirsten Dunst anymore, and Cate Blanchett is obviously a powerhouse. So I guess it's great that Ariana DeBose won.

Outstanding Performance by a Male Actor in a Supporting Role Troy Kotsur (CODA) (WINNER) Ben Affleck (The Tender Bar) Bradley Cooper (Licorice Pizza) Jared Leto (House of Gucci) Kodi Smit-McPhee (The Power of the Dog)

As I mentioned above, this is a historic nomination and win and recognition couldn't be given to a better film. CODA is not only a vehicle for deaf actors and awareness, but a moving coming of age story that speaks to all audiences, hearing or not.

Outstanding Action Performance by a Stunt Ensemble in a Motion Picture No Time to Die (WINNER) Black Widow Dune The Matrix: Resurrections Shang Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings

Outstanding Performance by an Ensemble in a Drama Series Succession — Nicholas Braun, Juliana Canfield, Brian Cox, Kieran Culkin, Dagmara Dominczyk, Peter Friedman, Jihae, Justine Lupe, Matthew Macfadyen, Dasha Nekrasova, Scott Nicholson, David Rasche, Alan Ruck, J. Smith-Cameron, Sarah Snook, Fisher Stevens, Jeremy Strong, Zoë Winters (WINNER) The Handmaid’s Tale The Morning Show Squid Game Yellowstone

I really like Succession. I also pay much less attention to the TV categories and so I was surprised that this was the first time they'd won in the category. Now where can I buy Brian Cox's "F*ck Off" mask?? I need 10!

Outstanding Performance by a Male Actor in a Drama Series Lee Jung-jae (Squid Game) (WINNER) Brian Cox (Succession) Billy Crudup (The Morning Show) Kieran Culkin (Succession) Jeremy Strong (Succession)

Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Drama Series Jung Ho-yeon (Squid Game) (WINNER) Jennifer Aniston (The Morning Show) Elisabeth Moss (The Handmaid’s Tale) Sarah Snook (Succession) Reese Witherspoon (The Morning Show)

Admittedly Squid Game wasn't amongst my favourite series this year (that's not to say I didn't binge the whole thing!), however I am continually pleased to see the growing success of Korean film and TV. The stellar content that's crossing the pond in their native language and taking home the top awards in Hollywood - including Best Actor AND Best Actress edging out the entire Roy family , the phenomenal cast of The Morning Show, and Elisabeth Moss (admittedly I don't like her show either) really raises the bar.

Outstanding Performance by an Ensemble in a Comedy Series Ted Lasso — Annette Badland, Kola Bokinni, Phil Dunster, Cristo Fernández, Brett Goldstein, Brendan Hunt, Toheeb Jimoh, Nick Mohammed, Sarah Niles, Jason Sudeikis, Jeremy Swift, Juno Temple, Hannah Waddingham (WINNER) The Great Hacks The Kominsky Method Only Murders in the Building

I'm not sure what it is with me and the leading comedies, I'm just not inclined to watch them. I should watch Ted Lasso (sidenote: I've always been a fan of Juno Temple... who wore one of my favourite dresses of the night). I watched the first season of The Great and it felt more like... The O.K.

And not to downplay the remainder of the categories, but I myself, have no additional commentary to add...

Outstanding Performance by a Male Actor in a Comedy Series Jason Sudeikis (Ted Lasso) (WINNER) Michael Douglas (The Kominsky Method) Brett Goldstein (Ted Lasso) Steve Martin (Only Murders in the Building) Martin Short (Only Murders in the Building)

Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Comedy Series Jean Smart (Hacks) (WINNER) Elle Fanning (The Great) Sandra Oh (The Chair) Juno Temple (Ted Lasso) Hannah Waddingham (Ted Lasso)

Outstanding Performance by a Male Actor in a Television Movie or Limited Series Michael Keaton (Dopesick) (WINNER) Murray Bartlett (The White Lotus) Oscar Isaac (Scenes From a Marriage) Ewan McGregor (Halston) Evan Peters (Mare of Easttown)

Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Television Movie or Limited Series Kate Winslet (Mare of Easttown) (WINNER) Jennifer Coolidge (The White Lotus) Cynthia Erivo (Genius: Aretha) Margaret Qualley (Maid) Jean Smart (Mare of Easttown)

Outstanding Action Performance by a Stunt Ensemble in a Comedy or Drama Series Squid Game (WINNER) Cobra Kai The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Loki Mare of Easttown

One Month until the Oscars, I'll be back with more then!

[queenclio]

Title: Golden Days (aka METHod Acting, the Breaking Bad Hollywood!AU)

Summary: Saul Goodman is a down on his luck talent agent searching for Hollywood’s next big star. Jesse Pinkman, Saul’s latest protege, is an unknown actor set to co-star in Gus Fring’s latest cinematic masterpiece, Baby Blue, across from award-winning method actor Walter White. Will Jesse make it big in Tinseltown or flame out before he gets the chance? Saul is more than willing to show the kid the ropes.

Parts I & II can be found here, along with some intro notes.

Part III

Word count: ~1,000

Saul was running through his meetings for the week when he faintly heard the sound of the front door opening in the lobby. Before he could register Francesca’s stern voice following the footsteps down the hall, the doors to his office burst open and in walked Nacho Varga.

“Mr. Varga,” Fran said with a scowl. “How many times do I have to tell you, you need an appointment. You can’t just barge in here!”

Nacho stopped, barely a foot inside the office door and swiveled his head to look down his nose at her. Saul’s secretary held her ground, something he’d always admired in her.

“Leave us,” Nacho said, voice deadly calm. Saul could see Fran stubbornly clench her jaw and return the stare. Nacho Varga left most people ready to piss themselves, but Fran had dug her heels in since day one with him.

“Ignacio!” Saul said from behind his desk, attempting to de-escalate before the staring match turned ugly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Nacho blinked and Saul could see his nostrils flare for a moment before he turned his gaze on Saul and stepped forward, leaving Fran standing by the door.

“It’s been over a month since I’ve heard shit from you, Goodman,” he growled. “What the fuck am I paying you for?”

“You’ve got to have a little faith, Ignacio,” Saul said. “I’ve been priming the pump.”

“My ass, you have,” Nacho muttered, and Saul felt a jolt of fear in his gut at the glare he received. Nacho Varga was one of his more volatile clients. The man left every project he took with a burned bridge or a black eye -- usually both.

“Patience is a virtue, my friend,” Saul said, plastering a mean grin onto his face that he hoped looked more dangerous than it felt. “You clearly don’t want what I’ve got readily available --”

“I refuse to do one more chabacano telenovela or bit part as a fucking dealer.” Nacho leaned forward over the desk, staring down at Saul with palpable contempt. “I refuse to be typecast.”

The sound of Saul’s cell shrieking on the table did little to break the tension, but he used it as an excuse to drop eye contact. His pulse spiked in anticipation when he recognized the number as Jesse Pinkman’s.

“I gotta take this,” he said. Nacho didn’t move.

Saul swallowed and answered the phone. “Hey, kid!” he said, voice enthusiastic. “Great to hear from you. Can you hold on just a sec?” He put his hand over the mic and turned his attention back to Nacho. “Look, I wanted to wait to tell you this until I had my ducks in a row, but I got a friend - another agent - who’s working with this star of a screenwriter. I think she has something right up your alley. Y’know - intellectual, artsy, no stereotypes, yada yada.”

Nacho continued to stare at him for another painfully silent ten seconds. “You have one week to get your goddamned ducks in a row, or you’re gonna fucking regret it.” At that he turned on his heel and stalked out. When he heard the front door slam, he sagged back in his seat.

“Y’still there, kid?”

---

Jesse was practically vibrating with energy as he stepped out into the LA sunshine. He had nailed that audition and he still couldn’t fucking believe it.

As he’d read lines sitting next to Walter fucking White, the legend himself, Jesse was sure everyone could see him sweating bullets in the only nice, slim-cut polo he owned.

Gus Fring’s expression might as well have been etched in concrete, for all it changed during the read through. Jesse could see why his performance in Cat’s in the Bag had caught Kim Wexler’s eye, though. The role of the low-life, high school dropout turned meth peddler in Baby Blue was damaged and desperate like the homeless cat lover. If Jesse were honest with himself, he identified with the kid. If his aunt hadn’t intervened and convinced Jesse’s parents to let him move with her to Burbank to finish high school, he could have easily ended up slinging dope in the Valley after his parents kicked him out. He spared them a single vicious thought, wondering how they’d react if they saw him now.

After the audition, Walter White had turned to him and shook his hand. “Not bad for a novice,” he said, voice flat and difficult to read. “If you apply yourself, this could work out very well for you.”

“Wow, thanks, dude,” Jesse said, trying in vain not to stumble over his words. “Uh, I mean, Mr. White. Seriously, your movies are mind blowing. This is such an honor...” He trailed off, conscious of the anxious flush creeping up his neck.

Mr. White just looked at him - studied him, really, Jesse thought. “Thank you,” he said, and turned away without a word to speak to Gus Fring.

Just as Jesse was wondering what he was supposed to do next, Kim Wexler, dressed in a dark skirt and blazer and looking more like a lawyer than a movie producer, walked over to him and pulled him aside.

“Here’s my card,” she said quietly. He took it and looked at it. Kim Wexler, Producer, Hamlindigo Productions.

“Uh, should I…?”

“You got this,” Kim said with a small smile on her face that was trying not to burst into a grin.

Jesse gave her a small thumbs up and cocked a questioning eyebrow.

“More like…” Kim said, and raised two thumbs up close to her chest. “Trust me, you’d know if Gus was disappointed. My executive producer is over the moon, too.” She gestured to a blond man in a blue pinstriped suit who was also talking with Fring and Mr. White.

“This is all happening so fast,” he said, mind already racing ahead to what came next. “Does it usually happen this fast?”

“Welcome to Hollywood,” she said with a grin. “Now you’d better call Saul and tell him how it went.”

[kittensjonsa]

Pull Me Closer

For @jonxsansafanfiction Valentine's Day: 6 Feb - Hearts. This was a hard theme for me so I tried my best. I love animals so I guess the hearts was a little tribute to them. Oh and the story is based on the hot dress Sophie Turner was wearing at the SAG awards so I thought OK let's combine the two. Lol. If only Kit was there. But that dress hot damn wow. Anyway thanks for reading. And keep the fics coming! ************* Jon peered out through the peephole and made sure the coast was clear before he slipped out of the hotel room. Running a hand through his curls to make sure not a strand was out of place and that his now crumpled shirt was tucked in properly. She was still on him, the scent of her pervaded every fibre of his being and even on his clothes. Laundry could wait a week or two. See you tonight love, he thought as he glanced back at the messed up duvet that hardly covered a shapely leg which stuck out from underneath it. Jon felt his loins stir as he recalled the last few hours from the night before in his mind. And more nights to come, he thought grinning to himself and reluctantly opened the door. ..... TWELVE HOURS EARLIER... The annual Wild @ Heart charity ball was an event Sansa and Arya were always looking forward to in attending. All of the North's high society and who's who were invited and the Starks were almost always on their guest list. Ned and Catelyn Stark's contributions and efforts in funding wildlife research and rehabilitating the endangered grey wolves back to their original habitats in the North, were one of the Stark's family's proudest accomplishments. From building a research centre to picking the best experts in the field to funding the various programmes, Ned and Cat were a force to be reckoned with. And they had imparted their compassion and passion to their children as well. Robb was determined to continue their legacy and placed his heart and soul into doing what his parents would have done for the foundation. So much so that the organisers had promised Robb Stark, now the head of the prominent Stark household, that they would be honouring the Stark family with the Passionate Hearts award that evening. It was an award that represented what Wild@Hearts Animal Sanctuary and Wildlife Research was truly about and it was the highest honour the organisation could give to anyone for their continuing support and dedication to caring and rescuing all wild creatures big and small. Sansa was delighted when Robb rallied the whole family to ready themselves for the gala. It was Sansa's third time in attendance but the preparation leading towards the evening always seem like the first time. From choosing the right dress and jewellery, getting the right make up and hair done was something Sansa could get used to. Sansa had her eye on an exquisite red gown she saw draped on a mannequin in the Louis Vuitton boutique while out having brunch with Margaery a month ago. Sansa knew that dress was the one. Even Arya agreed it was indeed meant for Sansa and she was keen to turn heads, maybe a popular fashion magazine to look her way . "What time is the limo picking us up?" Sansa yelled to Arya who was in the bathroom, checking her hair for the hundredth time. Arya stepped out and shrugged, her curled up bob looking the same as it did a few moments ago. Sansa sat still as the make up artist put the finishing touches to her face. Sansa glanced from the corner of her eye at the red gown hanging on the coat rack. Robb had been generous with their wardrobe this time, who finally saw how much his sisters revelled in social events such as this. "I don't know, Robb will text when it's here," Arya quipped, pursing her dark plum lips. Sansa gave a little smirk when Arya took her advice and tried something different this time and picked a simple Charlie Brear dusty pink 1920s style gown that showed off her athletic physique. What are sisters for, Sansa thought happily. After the accident that took Father and Mother and little Rickon away five years ago, the Stark siblings had grown closer than they had been before. Gone were the bratty squabbles and snide remarks. They only had each other now. Sansa got up to wear her dress when a knock came on the door. "We have another half hour, I hope to God you girls are ready," Robb's voice rang in from the other side. Sansa zipped up her dress and strapped on her shoes. Arya was already ready and texting on her phone. Looks like it was going to be family night out tonight, Sansa thought as she took one final look at the mirror. Bright red dress matched with a bright red lip, Sansa was confident she was going to get some attention tonight. Perhaps best dressed by Harper's Bazaar. She could dream. "All right. You ready? Let's do this." Sansa and Arya stood in front of the full length mirror of Sansa's room and looked at themselves. How much they had grown. It seemed like only yesterday they were wearing pigtails and shoes with untied laces and now, they were all dressed up glamourously for a ball. Arya smiled back at Sansa's reflection and both of them stepped out, geared up for perhaps the best night of the year. Sansa couldn't help but squeal slightly as she stepped in the grand ballroom of the Waldorf. The huge chandelier hanged elegantly high above the room, its crystals reflecting the warm light and bathing everything in a rich golden glow. Everyone looked beautiful, Sansa noticed. She could get used to this. As the Stark siblings were ushered to their tables, Sansa felt a light tug on her elbow. "You caught my eye, Sansa," a low raspy voice whispered from behind her. Sansa almost stopped breathing. Jon. Sansa turned and was greeted by a very dapper and broodingly handsome Jon Targaryen. Sansa's mouth nearly touched the floor. The velvet navy suit with the navy bow tie looked as if it belonged on him. The almost black curly hair that neatly framed his handsome face gave Sansa butterflies. "Jon.. Oh my God, so good to see you! My, my look at you, you cleaned up well." Sansa reached over to give Jon a hug. It had been years since she last saw him. Ever since the accident. Sansa lingered in his arms when she caught a whiff of Jon's wonderful scent. How she missed him. They had been childhood friends and practically grew up together. She remembered the many times Robb and Arya used to tease the both of them as if they were a couple. Sansa didn't understand why back then, but as she grew older and realised how close Jon and her were, they might as well have been. Till he moved away with his family and now, all grown up and groomed to be a Senator. Like his grandfather, Robb had always described Jon. "Not as good as you. My, that dress, you could stop a train in that." "Well, good thing I'm not then since I plan to drink all the champagne," Sansa giggled shyly, her cheeks pink from Jon's stare. "Not too much though, at least until after a dance with me," Jon smiled as he held out his hand to her. The night went wonderfully as expected, Robb managed to bring a tear out of everyone in the room with his heartfelt speech and Arya finally getting a chance to chat with the suave Gendry Baratheon. Even Bran was having a good time. But all she could focus on was Jon. Who had been constantly gazing at her with his dark eyes from the next table the moment she sat down. They had exchanged shy smiles and looks across the tables and Sansa could even feel his eyes on her when she left for the bathroom. She had to admit it felt good. How did she ever missed out on Jon? Too close for comfort, perhaps. But still, the thought of Jon with her was a tempting prospect. And one she had always thought for some time. The image in her mind never really left. Sansa felt a nice warm buzz from the four glasses of Vueve Cliqout she had downed and leaned on her chair as she watched everyone around her. She was sober still but felt relaxed. "Robb did a wonderful job with the speech. I'm sure your mom and dad would've been proud." Sansa heard Jon and turned to see him sitting beside her. Her table was empty as Arya was seated at Gendry's table and Bran and Robb were making rounds shaking hands with everybody who congratulated them. "He did and I'm sure they would be too." Sansa sighed and wished her mother and father could see how far they've come as a family. She missed them terribly. Especially little Rickon. He would love coming to places like these. Sansa took a deep breath when she felt a sob coming on. No, it's a happy night for all of us tonight, let's just enjoy it, Sansa thought. "You know, there's a little garden out back that I've always wanted to check out at night, thought maybe I could do with some company. If you don't mind, would you like to come join me for a walk, Sansa?" Sansa came back to herself as she heard Jon's invitation. She too had wondered how the rose garden of the Waldorf looked like at night. She looked around and it deemed upon her that perhaps a quick break from all the celebration would be nice. Sansa took Jon's offered hand and followed him out of the ball room. The summer night was a balmy one and the air was warm and filled with the scent of roses. Sansa loved it, it looked different at night, the roses bore a darker red, almost purple in the moonlight. "I have to say, I've always wanted to bring a date here." Jon chuckled as he admired the garden. "Oh, so were you successful?" Jon laughed at Sansa's cheeky remark. He missed that about her. "Well, you're here with me now, aren't you? So I say yes." "Free champagne and dinner. Well, you got a good deal." They both laughed at Sansa's comment. They've always shared a similar sense of humour. "I couldn't take my eyes off you the moment I saw you walk in Sansa. And I started to remember all the times we had together when we were kids. Do you still remember? " Sansa smiled. Of course she did. " Yes I do Jon. We had so much fun together. Those were good times, of course I remember." "Have you thought of me ever since? Because I often think of you, Sansa. And I was hoping to see you tonight." Sansa blushed. She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or Jon that was making her warm and tingly inside. "And I was hoping I could talk to you about something that I've waited so long to tell you." Sansa head snapped towards Jon who was now inching closer to her. Sansa wasn't quite sure what was happening. "Sansa, I-I don't know how to tell you this but I'm just going to say it.. I love you. I've always been in love with you. Ever when we were kids, I knew I loved you. I understand if you don't feel the same, but I just wanted you to know. Before I.. Before it's too late to say it," Jon softly professed, his whispering breath on her giving her goosebumps as he spoke the words. Jon was now holding her arms and looking at her earnestly. "Oh." Sansa was stunned by Jon's admission. She wasn't dreaming, she had always wanted Jon to say that to her, ever since she realised she had developed feelings for him too but kept quiet, just like he did. Missing him was terrible when he had to move far away. The emails and calls didn't stop though they got much lesser and less frequent. Apparently, they were both afraid of speaking the truth when it was the only thing that mattered. " You could have told me sooner, Jon. I missed you terribly. I thought you didn't want me around anymore." "No, no... Oh my sweet Sansa, never. I wanted to stay but family duty got in the way. And I'm sorry it did. I've always wanted you to be with me. I wanted to tell you but I didn't want to lose you if I did. Because maybe you didn't feel the same way. " Sansa felt tears coming on. How long she had waited for those words to greet her ears. It was a song. " But you were wrong Jon. I did. I've always did." "Oh." Jon looked down and tried to compose himself. This was getting harder than how he had planned it to be. "Jon, I've always loved you. And you know what, I still do. I just wished you acted on it, instead of letting it be. I wondered for so long, Jon." It was Jon's turn now to tear up. How could he not know? He cherished her friendship and presence so much that he didn't dare to ruin it. It was a mistake to leave it and it plagued him ever since. "Oh Sansa, I was an idiot. I'm sorry. How can I make it up to you, for all the lost time?" Sansa's eyes searched his and wondered what she would do if this opportunity didn't present itself again. They were reunited again and there must be some cosmic reason for such things. Sansa wasn't a big believer in most things but the feelings bubbling up in her, told her there was something truly magical about what she and Jon had shared. And perhaps, they both were not going to let it pass and lose it again. "Well, pull me closer, Jon and we'll find out."

[live-in-fury]

AU where neither of them play hockey and are actors instead. really really good actors. inspired by this gifset and my tags on it, sorta. (also on AO3.)

Jonny successfully ignores his phone the first few times it vibrates on his night stand, but when it’s clear it won’t stop he begrudgingly reaches over and checks it.

The first thing he sees is a missed call from his brother. When he scrolls down, he sees multiple missed calls from his parents, agent, publicist, and friends.

He takes a minute to process this. These could be pity calls. ‘I can’t believe you were snubbed, you were so amazing’ calls. Or they could be congratulatory.

He hesitantly calls his agent back.

“Where the fuck are you?” Seabs shouts when he picks up.

“Home…”

“Why weren’t you picking up?”

“I was sleeping.”

“You were sleeping? You were sleep- they announced the Oscar nominations and you couldn’t be bothered because you were sleeping?” Seabs asks.

“Just tell me, did I get it or not?” Jonny says, his patience wearing thin.

“Yes, Jonny,” Seabs growls. “Of course you got it, did you even doubt it?”

Jonny lets out a sigh of relief. “You never know, man.”

Jonny was nominated for Best Actor in all of the awards shows leading up to the Oscars. He won a SAG and a People’s Choice, but Patrick Kane had managed to snag the Golden Globe. Patrick was admittedly great in his movie about being stranded in the Antarctic, but Jonny didn't think he was better than himself.

“Did Kane get a nomination too?” Jonny asks, purely curious.

“Yes, Jonathan,” Seabs huffs. “Lover boy got one too.”

“Fuck off,” Jonny groans.

Seabs is convinced Jonny has a thing for Patrick which, if the guy wasn’t such a dick, he probably would. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t fine him attractive, but that’s all there is to him. The media likes making a big deal out of the two of them because their openly gay and single.

“Congrats, man,” Seabs says. “Text me when you’re free, we have things to plan.”

“Thanks,” Jonny says before hanging up.

He holds off on calling his family back and decides to scroll through his Twitter feed instead. He’s humbled by all the nice things people are saying about him and the movie. He stops at one tweet in particular.

@88PKane: Honored for the nom. @jonathantoews better bring your A+ suit game

Jonny rolls his eyes and replies.

@jonathantoews: Worry about yourself first @88PKane

The replies, likes, and retweets to it are almost instantaneous. People think they’re joking, that they pretend to constantly hate each other to be funny. It’s no joke to Jonny.

*

Friday night finds Jonny in a packed house party thrown by one of his close friends. He very rarely goes to these because he hates overly socializing with people in the industry. They only ever gossip and talk about themselves.

Jonny attends the party only because Sharpy’s throwing it. Jonny worked with Sharpy a few years about on a movie about a dystopian future and they’d stayed close since.

“Lighten up, Toes,” Sharpy says, shoving a drink in his face. “Smile.”

Jonny rolls his eyes and takes the cup. “I hate these things.”

“I know. Thanks for coming anyway,” Sharpy says.

“Yeah, well,” he says, shrugging. He looks out into the crowd and catches a glimpse of curly blonde hair. “Why is he here?”

Sharpy follows his gaze, then smiles. “Thought you’d want him here.”

“Why would I want that?” Jonny says, defensively.

“Calm down,” Sharpy says. “You don’t have to keep up the charade around me.”

“What are you talking about?” Jonny asks, confused.

“It’s all a joke, right? You’re not actually mortal enemies…”

“We are,” Jonny says. “Why do people keep thinking the opposite?”

A grin slowly appears on Sharpy’s face. “Maybe because you two can’t stop talking about each other.”

“I don’t-” Jonny starts to say, but quickly realizes that it’s probably true. He spends too much of his free time thinking about, talking about, and googling Patrick Kane. But it’s all for work purposes, he needs to know what his competition is up to. “Whatever.”

Sharpy smirks. Something catches his eye behind Jonny.

“So you don’t think Patrick Kane is attractive?” Sharpy asks.

“Stop putting words in my mouth,” Jonny says, frustrated.

“Is that a no?”

“That’s a mind your own fucking business,” Jonny says.

Sharpy puts his hands up and backs away.

Jonny sighs in relief, he didn’t like where that conversation was heading.

“So yes or no?” someone asks from behind him.

Jonny spins around to come face to face with Patrick.

“What?” Jonny asks, frazzled.

“Do you find me attractive, Jonny?” Patrick asks, tongue poking out between his teeth and then slowly sliding over his bottom lip.

“Uh,” Jonny says, forgetting the question. “What?”

“I’ll take that as a yes?” Patrick says, taking a step closer so that they were practically chest to chest.

“What?” Jonny asks again. He’s trying desperately to get a hold on his thoughts, but it’s like they keep flying away from him when he gets close.

Patrick smiles wide and leans in even more. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty hot too,” Patrick whispers in Jonny’s ear, wet lips catching on his earlobe.

Jonny can’t keep from shuddering at the feeling and the words. It only gets worse when Patrick places a lingering kiss on Jonny’s cheek.

Patrick steps back and winks.

Just like that, Jonny’s no longer at a loss for words. Anger starts seeping into him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Jonny asks, shoving Patrick further away.

“I thought-I,” Patrick fumbles for words.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Jonny says, frustrated. He doesn’t know why he stopped breathing when Patrick came so close to him. He doesn’t get why his stomach rolled and all of his blood rushed to his dick when Patrick’s lips touched his skin.

So Patrick heard Jonny finds him attractive and used it against him. Patrick’s a dick, what’s new?

Patrick looks shocked and a little bit annoyed. He searches Jonny’s face for something and whatever it is, he must find it because he puts his hands up like Sharpy did and backs away.

Good fucking riddance, Jonny thinks.

*

The Oscars are a few weeks later and Jonny’s spent the day with a pit in his stomach. He wants to get it over with.

“Hey, man!” Patrick shouts as he walks down the red carpet towards him.

Jonny’s sweltering in the L.A. heat. He’s had a fake smile on for a while, but now he has to kick it up a notch.

“Patrick!” he says, as the man approaches him. “How’ve you been?”

“Been okay, can’t complain too much, right?” Patrick says, grinning. “How about you?”

“Same, I guess,” Jonny says, aiming for polite but falling short. “I’ll see you inside, yeah?”

Patrick nods, smile still not leaving his face.

Jonny leans over for a curtesy hug and can’t help but whisper into Patrick’s ear, “Maybe you should win. This is some phenomenal acting you’re doing.”

“Acting?” Patrick asks, looking confused.

“Yeah, acting like we can stand each other,” Jonny says, pulling away. “Good luck,” he says, loudly for the cameras that might be watching.

He leaves Patrick standing there with his jaw unhinged.

*

“And the winner for Best Actor goes to…Jonathan Toews,” Brandon Saad announces.

Patrick’s in shock, he’s here with Seabs who pulls him into a hug and all but shoves him towards the stage.

Jonny has a little speech prepared, he’s not going to lie and say he didn’t think he’d win, it was possible. He doesn’t say anything too original, just the mundane thanks.

He looks out into the audience before he says his final words and sees Patrick Kane grinning up at him, as if he’s happy for him even though he just lost. Why is Jonny the only one who can see through his bullshit?

“And I’d like to thank my fellow nominees: Corey, Duncan, Joel, I look up to all of you and I’m honored to be included in a category with such phenomenal actors,” Jonny says before laughter and applause breaks out.

He’s glad that not only did people realize he left Patrick off the list of names, but that they actually found it funny. No one will think he was being rude, but Patrick will know.

Jonny glances back down at Patrick before he leaves the stage and sees his smile faltering before picking back up again as a camera man rushes over to get his reaction. Jonny squints in confusion. That’s his fake smile?

*

Jonny attends the after party hoping he can sneak out after making him presence known.

He’s talking to Seabs in a corner of the room when Patrick approaches him.

“Mind if I borrow him for a second?” Patrick asks.

Seabs shrugs. “He’s all yours, but try to keep your hands to yourself till you get home,” Seabs says, winking at them before walking away.

“He thinks we’re hooking up?” Patrick asks, looking disgusted by the idea.

The look makes Jonny feel uneasy for some reason.

“He’s joking, but you don’t have to act like just the idea is going to make you puke,” Jonny grumbles.

“It doesn’t!” Patrick says, defensively. “I just...didn’t think that was an option?”

“Well it’s not,” Jonny says, quickly before Patrick gets any ideas. “What did you want?”

“Why are you such an asshole?” Patrick asks.

Jonny rolls his eyes. “Like you’re not one too.”

“I’m not,” Patrick says. “I’m always joking when I’m mean to you on social media and stuff, but why do I get the feeling you mean the things you say about me?”

“You’re always joking?” Jonny repeats, mockingly.

“You don’t believe me?”

“You are a great actor,” Jonny says, smirking.

“Why do you hate me?” Patrick asks, quietly.

Jonny thinks about it for a second. “I don’t hate you, we just have this rivalry thing going on. Since we were teenagers we’ve always been auditioning for the same roles. We’ve always had this back and forth thing.”

“No, it’s more like you say some mean shit and then for the sake of keeping my dignity, I have to say shit back,” Patrick says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’re telling me you’ve never meant anything bad you’ve said about me or to me?” Jonny asks.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Oh,” Jonny says.

“I always thought you were joking too until recently and after tonight it’s pretty obvious you meant everything you said,” Patrick says, sounding hurt.

“I didn’t-I’m sorry. I thought you were faking being happy for me, I just snapped. I think reacting rudely to you is a way to protect myself. You got your big break before me when we were younger and I was always jealous of that,” Jonny admits.

“But what about now? We’re both on the same playing field. I mean, fuck, Jonny, you just won an Oscar, there’s nothing I have to be jealous of,” Patrick says.

“I don’t know,” Jonny says, shrugging. “There just something about you that makes me want to put my guard up.”

Patrick cracks a smile. “Maybe it’s my devastatingly handsome looks.”

Jonny can’t help but smile back. “Or maybe it’s your modesty.”

“Yup, it’s that, definitely my modesty,” Patrick says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You’re an idiot,” Jonny says, chuckling as gently shoves Patrick’s shoulder.

Patrick grins back at him and he’s finally seeing it at face value, no hidden meanings behind it.

*

It’s been weeks since the Oscars and in that time Patrick has quickly become one of Jonny’s good friends.

They talk a lot through text and hang out when they can get away from the paparazzi. But mainly they stick to flirting with each other on Twitter.

@jonathantoews: .@88PKane is such a hunk! Check out the latest issue of GQ for his spread and interview!

@88PKane: I didn’t even ask @jonathantoews to promote this. He’s just that sweet <3

@88PKane: when bae is on TV <33 @jonathantoews --- @julia329: @88PKane @jonathantoews are you guys dating? --- @88PKane: @julia329 I wish!!

@jonathantoews: wishing everyone a happy valentine’s day! Especially you, @88pkane ;)

@88PKane: oh and happy bday to @jonathantoews you old man --- @jonathantoews: @88PKane thanks dood.. Who is aging faster? --- @jonathantoews: Thx man, seriously though what’s with the no-follow ---@88PKane:@jonathantoews Sorry, didn’t think you would be interesting enough to follow. Here’s your follow sir

@jonathantoews:I guess I am an old man if I don’t know what a goat or a dad is on Twitter… @88PKane ur so cool what are these people talking about?

@jonathantoews: Ha thx guys.. happy to know I’m not getting chirped 100% of the time.. And yeah I read the tweets, fans you guys are the real GOATs.

@jonathantoews: @88PKane u are an actual GOAT.. Ok I’m done for the day

Flirting so blatantly is a terrible idea, the media and fans keep asking them questions about it , but since Patrick isn’t complaining, neither is Jonny.

At first Jonny couldn’t figure out if Patrick’s flirty tweets were genuine or not, but after receiving similar texts from him, it’s safe to say he means them.

Jonny’s getting into bed when Patrick calls him.

“Hey,” he says, instantly scolding himself for how fond he sounds.

“Hi,” Patrick says.

“What’s up?”

“So since you’re Canadian, you can skate, right? Or should I say ‘eh’?” Patrick replies.

“Yes, Patrick, I know how to ice skate.”

“Great, so you know Bowman right? He’s producing a movie and wants me to sign on as one of the main leads. He asked if I had a suggestion for the other one, and I was hoping maybe you could do it?”

Jonny bites back a grin. Acting with Patrick would be quite an experience.

“What’s it about?” Jonny asks.

“It’s about an NHL team that’s doing pretty badly. They haven’t made the playoffs in years and are losing their fan base, but then they draft two amazing players who help bring the franchise back from the dead and win a whole bunch of Cups, all while falling in love.”

Jonny’s mind goes blank at Patrick’s last few words. If he signs on, his and Patrick’s characters would be falling in love on screen. It’d probably include sappy moments and kisses.

“So yeah, that’s the premise. I can email you the script if you want, I was-“

“Yes,” Jonny says, without hesitation.

“Yes, I should email you the script?”

“No! I mean, yes please do that, but I also want in.”

“You haven’t even read it yet,” Patrick says, and Jonny thinks he can hear him smiling.

“We’d be the two players who turn things around, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Then I’m in.”

“Didn’t know you wanted to kiss me that badly.”

Jonny groans. “Patrick,” he scolds him.

“What?” Patrick answers, feigning innocence.

“Don’t say that when I’m not around to actually kiss you,” Jonny replies, blushing at his own words.

Patrick giggles in response and Jonny swears that sound will be the death of him.

*

Patrick’s over at Jonny’s place a few months later to practice some of their scenes. Things between them were good, but going a bit too slow for Jonny’s liking.

Neither of them has made a move yet because Patrick’s been busy promoting another movie around the world for the last month.

“We’re going to fill this place up,” Jonny says, confidently to Patrick.

Patrick’s supposed to nod along and look triumphantly at what would be the stands, but instead he stares at Jonny for a while before suddenly lunging at him, capturing his lips in a kiss. Despite the quick approach, the kiss is light and gentle.

Jonny wraps his arms around Patrick and kisses back. Heat soars through his blood and he thinks he can hear his heartbeat in his ears.

When they pull away, Jonny rests his forehead against Patrick’s. “That doesn’t happen until a few more scenes, Pat.”

“I can’t wait that long,” Patrick says, looking dazed.

“Good,” Jonny says, leaning back down for another kiss. “Why now?” he asks after pulling away again.

Patrick shrugs. “Dunno, something about the way you said that line. It’s like it triggered something in me.”

Jonny goes to kiss him again, but Patrick backs away.

“Where are you going?” Jonny asks, making grabby hands at him.

“Distancing myself a bit,” Patrick replies. “We have to get these lines down. We start shooting in a few days.”

Jonny grumbles in disapproval.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” Patrick says. “For every scene we get through, I’ll take off an article of clothing.”

Jonny grins. “A bit presumptuous are we now, Mr. Kane?”

Patrick quirks an eyebrow.

“Okay fine, but both socks count as one.”

“Alright,” Patrick agrees. “Probably a bad day not to wear underwear, huh?”

Jonny swallows and fumbles for his script, trying to ignore the mental image of what he thinks Patrick looks like shirtless and tugging his jeans down to reveal his dick.

Jonny scans the page for his line in the next scene and clears his throat before saying, “Pass me the fucking puck, asshole!”