#rhinestone royalty

[benjaminhighroller]

[okaerina]

𖥻 THINGS — enhypen ◌ ִ ۫ ּ

syn ; things enha reminds me of !

heeseung !

dangly earrings, pendent chains, skinny ripped jeans, rock guitar, clubbing, late studio night, concerts, rainy empty street, love songs, specs, ice cream, deers, rainforest, going over the speed limit, long drive, polaroids, balcony, tattoos, collage campus, basketball, getting into fist fights, breaking rules, warm breeze, kisses, sharing earphones, untied shoelaces, sleeveless tops, cross jewelries, chase atlantic songs

jay !

red wine, ball dance, guitar, empty kitchen, champagne bubbles, tuxedo suits, runaway, black cat, fashion magazines, gold jewelries, camping, eucalyptus, biking, biker jackets, street racing, late night walks, city lights, porsche, cologne, the weeknd songs, loose tie, fancy restaurant, chanel bags, iced americano, home, long hugs, words of affirmation, eye contact, autumn, posh music, v necks, opera, musical recital, marriage, ancient churches

jake !

pancakes, golden retrievers, empty parks, cardigans, picnic, wolf pups, landscapes, abstract art, lip piercings, makeout sessions, mornings, cream, sheets, swimming, sand castles, tree houses, venus, varsity player, rings, clashing waves, sun shinning through curtains, backyard, champagne, sparkly eyes, netflix and chill, forehead kisses, caramel fudge, winter, jb songs, garden, lilies, lipstick stains

sunghoon !

sculptures, greek mythology, snow, ice skating, pointe shoes, swan lake, ice rinks, rhinestones, vampires, sharp canines, royalty, huskies, novels, cruise, 90s songs, ear muffs, moon phase, poetry, dandelions, maple leaves, vanilla shake, pearls, penguins, blush, lucid dreams, confessions, lullaby, archangels, romance movies, boyfriend coats, monsoon, hair blowing because of the wind, moles, tears, old love, unrequited love, ribbons, weddings

sunoo !

sun, tulip field, solar system, marshmallows, tteobokki, street food, shopping, karaoke, smiles, cute stationeries, stickers, secret diary, cheek kisses, mufflers, red foxes, bratz doll, playdate, selfies, carnations, easter, boba tea, bestfriends to lovers, cherry blossoms, lip gloss, skincare, disney shows, late night face timing, gossiping, watching kdramas, sanrio stuffs, blowing bubbles, photo booths, texts, horizon

jungwon !

kittens, valleys, teenage dream, gold fish, aquariums, subways, cds, headphones, empty bus rides, babybreaths, holding hands, first love, taylor swift songs, messy hair, vacation, countryside, group study, constellations, piggyback ride, dimples, converse, empty classroom, sheep cubs, indoor plants, mini cactus, namsan tower, han river, late fall, vintage hand written letters , young love, romcom, kitties

ni-ki !

graffiti, sunsets, baggy pants, late night dance jam, empty beach, bicycling, sea shore, ear piercings, watermelon, summer, slow dancing, grass field, bungeoppangs, duck chicks, disneyland, ps5, arcade, puma cubs, eskimo kisses, bracelets, youth, climbing fences, skipping school, skateboarding, mangas, school festivals, footsies, cute band aids, oversized attires, j-rock, night sky, laughters, slice of life, teenage, playfulness, photo booths, anime, shoujo manga

© aenfilmz / 02072023

taglist ; @solarwoniii @shiningstar-byulxx @wtfhyuck @ichiibunztwt @enhawhoreist

[gretavanlace]

Sugar II (part 3)

18+ plus only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: adult themes, angst, discussions of alcohol consumption, etc

Thank you all so much for your patience while I was out of town…I love you and never intentionally keep you waiting! You’re my babies!! ❤️❤️

“Why am I always the last to know everything?” Sam slips into Josh’s dressing room, shirtless and as always, slapping along on two bare feet “Is it because I’m the youngest, or are you just an asshole?”

In contrast to his brother, Josh drips in beaded satin; glitter swept deftly across his eyes; rhinestones grabbing at the light until he winks and flashes like a star against its midnight sky.

No one would expect anything less. He is always the first to be found wandering the hallowed arena halls, made up and shining like old Hollywood royalty. It soothes him…a lullaby masquerading as expensively tailored glitz. You used to help him…zipping up jumpsuits he could have easily secured himself, fussing over his hair, lint rolling velvet, laughing and chattering away to keep his mind off that unforgiving anxiety of his. They are memories he cherishes and thinks of nearly every time he primps.

They each have their rituals - Daniel bangs around on a kit until his arms are loose and his mind is buzzing with adrenaline. Sam terrorizes the crew and his brothers with his trusty four-legged sidekick, shaking off the jitters with hijinks. And Jake scrutinizes his gear meticulously, checking the work of techs and roadies who definitely know what they’re doing. He usually finds something to pick apart anyway. It sharpens his focus and quiets his mind.

Josh steps into costume and becomes someone else. Someone he often doesn’t recognize…who is this person with such charisma and grace? He who commands the attention of crowd after crowd roaring and shaking the rafters? He who is worthy of such primal, hungry fervor?

That is how he finds the spotlight night after night. While the others do their own things, Josh quietly dresses and becomes someone, something, else.

And so, draped in his finery, he watches Sam through the mirror as he flops into a chair, all legs and attitude. “By all means, Samuel, make yourself at home.”

“Were you even going to tell me that she’s here? She always liked me best, you know? She was just too sweet to mention it to you idiots.”

Josh turns with a chorus of clattering glass beads, and leans back against the vanity, arms folded “One, I haven’t even seen you since I found out, so you’ll forgive me. Two, I knew Daniel would break his fucking neck to be the first to tell you,” He shrugs, “figured I’d let him have his moment.”

Popping open a White Claw, Sam ignores his brother's carping in favor of a question “You see her yet?”

“Yes,” Josh turns back to his reflection, patting a fingertip lightly over his eye makeup.

Never in possession of any patience to speak of - the baby of the family rarely is - Sam immediately prods him along. “And?”

He’s met with a sigh, “And what? I went to see her, we caught up for a little while, and then I left. That was that.”

“I went to see her,” there’s a mocking, obnoxious quality to Sam’s tone as he parrots Josh “we caught up for a while and then I— would you shut up? What happened? How is she?”

“She’s...I don’t know. She’s herself and not herself. She looked sad.” The revelation comes with a sadness of its own. “She’s getting married, so she shouldn’t have looked so damn miserable...but she did, and I hated it. It almost made me wish I hadn’t even knocked on her door.”

“I’m usually sad when you knock on my door, too.” Sam deadpans, attempting to lighten the mood at least a little.

“Must you lie, Samuel? You’re stricken with joy when I enter a room, just like everybody else.”

“Christ,” Sam mutters, tossing Josh a white claw to match his own, “I swear, if you could suck your own dick, you would.”

Josh cracks it open and slurps with a dramatic flourish, “Obviously.”

“Why do you think she looks so miserable?” Sam is pondering, turning something over in his mind with worry evident in his eyes.

“Probably because she knows she’ll likely have to see you. That’d be my guess, anyway.”

Josh is disguising his own knotted up stomach with humor. Sammy knows it, and chooses to ignore the dig.

They settle into their drinks until Sam speaks up once again, “She’s getting married? That’s just…” he quiets, unsure and still bristling with concern, “How are you gonna tell him? You gotta wait until after the show, that’s for sure.”

For once in his life, Josh has been rendered temporarily speechless, and that answers the question just fine.

“Are you serious?” Sam leans forward, elbows on his knobby knees, “You can’t be serious.”

“How am I going to tell him?” Now they’re just lobbing questions back and forth at one another. “You can’t be serious!”

Sam’s eyes widen, shocked and hurting for Jake in his absence. It would almost be comical if the situation could lend itself to anything other than this crushing weight, “We have to tell him, Josh. This isn’t okay. He has the right to—“

Suddenly, Josh pushes away from the vanity and the energy radiating from him shifts until he looks nearly frantic, “He has the right to what, Sam? To know? To see her? Have you lost your fucking mind? Put him in a room with her and we’re right back where we started. Three years progress,” his fingers snap harshly, “Poof! gone in a goddamn second.”

Matching his energy, Sam is on his feet in an instant, “Progress? Now whose lost his fucking mind? What progress are we talking about here, Josh? Because from where I’m standing, he’s made none. For his twin you’re remarkably ignorant.”

“I’m not ignorant,” this is bad, especially right before they’re expected to perform. They both know it, but on they march. “I know him backwards and forwards, Sammy, so just fucking listen to me for once. She stays in the past for him and that’s just the way it’s gonna be, end of discussion.”

“She stays in his past, or yours?” Sam counters, sizing his eldest brother up as though he can see right through him.

Shoulders slumped, Josh shakes the venom in Sammy’s accusation off “That isn’t fair.”

“I don’t give a shit. Answer the question.”

Sometimes, Sam readies for battle in a manner that always comes as a shock no matter how many times they’ve seen it happen. When he sheds that goofball demeanor in favor of a game face, it hardly seems real.

He is fierce in his love and loyalty to those he holds close, and tonight, Jacob has earned his favor.

“This isn’t about me, I promise you that.” The truth rings out clear in Josh’s vow. “I loved her once, I love her still, just differently now. I couldn’t do that to him. Not ever. The way he loved her canceled me out a long time ago.”

“Loves her.” Sam corrects, with a finger pointed at his brother to drive home his point.

“All the more reason to keep your mouth shut.” Josh’s timbre is threatening in a way it almost never is. It sounds and feels strange…out of place. “She’s getting fucking married, do you really think he can handle that? Use your fucking head, Sam. Leave it alone.”

Hand on the door handle, Sam watches Josh as if he’d very much like to hurt him, “Who are you to decide what he can and can’t handle?”

~

The show is their worst in their collective memory since their days as greenhorns, though it’s doubtful the fans have taken notice. Each mishap is small and easily disguised, but present all the same. They are unsteady and off-kilter, but only Jake is oblivious as to why.

He snaps a string, misses a mark, foils a riff or two. Josh falls flat and overcompensates, vibrato ringing out sharp. Sam refuses to look in his eldest’s brother’s direction, leaving them detached and removed in an unsettling way. Danny is on point from a technical standpoint, but robotic…their chemistry has vanished tonight and they can all feel it.

The moment they stalk off stage, Sam is clamoring for Jake’s attention as Josh fights to intercept.

Most nights, they’ll filter off into their respective solitude for a time to bask in the quiet before the noise of the bus. Tonight, Sam follows Jake, and Josh follows Sam.

“Jake,” Sam jogs along, easily closing the distance his brother has gained ahead of him with those lanky legs of his. “Hold up, I need to talk to you.”

“It can wait.” Jake is on a mission, clearly in a hurry to close a door and shut out the world. To find a bottle and make love to the whiskey inside it.

“No, it can’t because—“

“He said it can wait, Sam.”

Josh’s admonishment, and the viciousness it’s crackling with, is what turns Jake around. It makes no sense for his twin to be this hostile over something so innocuous; over some random conversation Sam would like to have that doesn’t even involve him.

He turns to find Josh’s glare burning murderously in Sam’s direction. The air emanating from him is in such dramatic contrast to the sunny ray of entertaining light that has just been beaming around the stage, and immediately, Jake senses the urgency of the moment.

On his part, Josh feels the switch flip inside his twin and knows that they’re about to head into dangerous territory. Fucking Sam.

“What?” Jake is furiously fumbling with his hair, shoving sweat soaked snarls away from his face, suddenly overstimulated and on edge. “What is it?”

Sammy speaks up, fighting to be heard clearly as crew members dart around and rush by in a flurry of tasks. “She’s here. Well, not here, but at the hotel.”

Defeated, Josh admits his loss with a quiet “God damn it, Sam.”

Jake somehow manages to catch it over the din and he knows. Or at least, he thinks he knows. He can feel it coming off of Josh like ghostly fingers stretching out to claw at his chest. Still, he doesn’t quite understand, the pieces are just this shy from falling into place.

“Who?” His query is tentative…filled with hopefulness and also a strange terror. A fear he’s only ever felt once before, when, helpless and shattered, he had to watch you say goodbye. A torturous longing only you can evoke.

Sam’s lips part to speak, but Josh shoves past him, grabbing Jake by the arm with black beads shaking about on his shoulders. “No one. Go shower. Have a drink.”

Somehow, Josh’s grip tells Jake everything. All that feverish panic seeps into the fabric of his jacket, somehow chilling his flesh with its burn. “She’s here?” His entire body is rattling with frenetic energy and he wonders if he might crumple to the ground and spark like a downed power line if Josh were to let go of him.

“Jake,” his name is a coddling whisper on his twin's lips, “Leave. Now. C’mon, I’ll go with you. You know what’s best, I know you do.”

As it turns out, Jake doesn’t hit the ground like a live wire, because when he shoves Josh off, his footing is sure. “How did you know she was here? You knew? And you weren’t gonna fucking tell me? Have you seen her?”

Ashamed, and afraid of what’s to come, Josh remains silently stoic under his brother’s eager and furious scrutiny.

“I said, have you fucking seen her?” Now Jake’s body is vibrating with a fury so out of control it’s threatening to boil over and scald anyone in its path.

Suddenly, Danny appears as though summoned by the gods of intervention, as he so often seems to be. He steps in, tugging Jake away from his brothers while staring daggers at Sam.

Sam never fucking thinks…or is he the only one who is actually thinking clearly this time around?

“Come on,” Jake is stumbling around on his feet to keep up with a much larger Daniel, as he drags him along to his dressing room.

It feels like a fever dream when at last he pushes Jake into a chair before shutting their brothers out with a door slammed in their faces.

“Look,” he finds a seat in front of Jake and places a hand on his bouncing knee. “You’ve got to calm down and think for a minute. Do you really want to see her? I mean…”

He isn’t given the chance to finish his sentence, because nothing any of them can say will matter anyway.

“Take me to her.” Neither of them could have any way of knowing that Jake’s plea mirrors the one you had struggled to swallow down in Danny’s arms.

“I don’t know where she is.” He speaks in honesty, and Jacob can sense that.

“Find out.” He rises to his feet and straightens his back, resolved and ready to fight for this. Ready to fight for you. “Josh knows, that fuck. Go find out.”

“Alright,” Daniel nods because what’s to be done now? What’s to pointlessly fight? “Shower in here. I’ll go talk to him.”

~

You’re mindlessly staring at the television screen, gaze blurring and focusing in and out as some chef with a lovely accent you can’t seem to place tosses ingredients round a hissing wok.

The entire room is awash in the scent of the shower you’ve just wept your way through, and the robe you’re swaddled in feels stiff and scratchy. You should change, you know, but you haven’t the energy. Better to lie here uncomfortable and twisted up in aching sadness, that old friend of yours whom you’ve denied for far too long.

Lie to yourself all you want. Shove it inside a box and lock it up tight with chains and latches until it rusts shut, but that throbbing agony will wait patiently for you. Never losing focus, ever vigilant for the moment it can blast its way back into your broken heart.

How you’ll ever rise and put on a professional face for brunch in the morning is a cipher you don’t care to decode tonight.

He’s all you can think of; memories of him. Loneliness for him. The need, so real and palpable. It’s as if you can smell him on your skin though he hasn’t swept his fingers across it in years.

Years? How is that even possible? It seems laughable that you’ve managed so long without him. It seems impossible. A nightmare that you’ve been muddling through.

When the knock sounds out, clipped and sure, at your door, you’re tempted to ignore it - and you even give it a go, but it comes again along with a cheery greeting “Room service!”

You haven’t ordered room service at all, but there stands a smart looking hotel employee, dressed to the hilt in his crisp uniform, waiting patiently beside a cart, when you peer through the peep-hole.

Tightening that terrible robe, you crack open the door, readying to let him know he’s made a mistake, when a hand darts out to push several folded up bills into the server’s hand.

Stunned and struck silent, you manage only to stare as Jake gives thanks and sends him on his way, eyes never straying from your face.

He reaches for you instinctively, but thinks better of it and drops those hands you know so well to his sides, flexing them as if to shake the need to touch you away.

Instead, he opts to offer a soft smile and a gentle joke “Hey, sugar, how’d we get to this place where I’ve got to pay off hotel employees to knock on your door for me, hmm?”

“I—“ You give your head a tiny shake, begging the thoughts rattling around inside it to make sense.

He looks so different. His hair is shorter, and he’s filled out, thickened in a way that makes your throat constrict for all you’ve missed. He’s as beautiful as ever. Alluring and changed, but still just him. Familiar and breathtaking. Perfect and right. Yours. But yours no longer.

Strangely, it’s what he’s wearing that makes you weakest and a little unsteady. He’s dressed in tattered sweats and a beaten up t-shirt. Thrashed vans that were stark white in another life, and damp hair, clearly brushed in a hurry. You love this so much more than if he’d strutted back into your life dressed to the nines. You’d hate to think he’d forgotten you enough to think that sort of thing might impress you.

“Are you gonna invite me in or should I just stand out here in the hallway all night watching you?”

A laugh, breathy and dumbfounded, huffs out of you. You remember the first time he’d said those words to you, and surely he does too. Was that a calculated effort on his part? To remind you of where you’ve been together? Of who you were together?

It’s an awful, self-destructive idea, inviting him in, and you know it is, you do. But when he steps into the room, you can smell him and the fist that has been cruelly clenched around your heart for countless days and nights, relaxes and finally, finally, you can breathe.

The door closes with a click and he’s suddenly so close you could taste his breath if you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to sink into it.

“Hi, pretty girl,” He hushes, and you wish his mouth was pressed against your ear so you could secret that quiet greeting away and live on it for the rest of your days.

All that white-hot closeness morphs into a hug. He’s hiding behind the platonic gesture, and so are you, but he can feel it, the way your body tenses and then melts against his own.

He feels as if he might disintegrate into a puddle of blackened anguish if he ever has to let you go, forever staining the horrendous hotel flooring where you once stood like an ethereal phantom sent to mend his heart. But a hideous reminder of where you once existed in this room with him for a few precious moments.

His hands have touched too many bodies to count since he last held you, but he has felt nothing until this moment.

No, he loathes the thought of letting you go, but he pulls back anyway, readying to let you lead this interaction. Alas, his palms find your cheeks all on their own, cupping the beautiful face he’s bartered with the devil for, that he’s prayed to god for, that he’s raged and begged for.

“My girl,” he wonders, like you can’t possibly be real. “My fucking girl.”

Your hands are molded over his, how did that happen? And then he’s releasing your face in order to lace your fingers together…he longs to touch you everywhere, but that isn’t okay any longer, is it? So he’s desperate for a way to latch onto you innocently.

He feels it then, and holds fast when you try to pull your hand away. Gaze - gorgeous honey swirling with caramel and horror - locked in on yours, he turns your hand to inspect the ring perched there like a weapon sent to destroy him.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @profitofthedune @jakesgrapejuice @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake

[pinkrelish]

it's 1993, and before adrie gets on the school bus she tells eddie she wants to dress up as a werewolf princess for halloween, and together he and miss mouse have to figure out what the hell that means while panicking in the aisles at the craft store, picking up flannel fabric and tulle and rhinestones to make a princess dress and faux fur for ears and paw-print mittens, debating on how much fake blood is too much fake blood and if that's too gory for royalty.

[resplendentoutfit]

Jacques Doucet Evening Coats

Wool, silk, rhinestones • 1900-1905 • Metropolitan Museum of Art

Jacques Doucet (French, 1853–1929) was first, and foremost, a connoisseur of art. Additionally, his passion for the refined and exquisite overflowed into his dealings with fashion, making him one of the finest French couturiers during the Belle Époque. The House of Doucet began as a family business, specializing in women's lingerie and laces, as well as articles of clothing for men. Founded in 1817, the company rose to fame under the hand of Jacques. The house was known for its luxurious offerings, which were worn and coveted by royalty, members of the elite society in both Europe and America, and actresses of the stage.

– Metropolitan Museum of Art

Evening coat • Wool, fur, silk • 1902

Flocked silk satin, silk velvet, and fur • 1910

[merp-blerp]

Things about Cinderella's Castle I'm excited about already as a big Cinderella fan

Part One (This), Part Two, Part Three

THE PUPPETS!!! I love puppets and I love seeing puppetry get used more and more—it's such an underrated art form! And the puppet models look stellar!

I love the idea of the step-family being trolls. I was wonder if they were always trolls or if they got sort of cursed. But Step-Mom flays women and wears their skin to fool everyone??? Very Grimms Bros style, I love it. I don't mind dark takes on Cinderella, so I'm intrigued. I wonder if that's why they're jealous of Ella, cause she's a normal human (supposedly), and so they try to demean her like a troll, to get her on their level or something.

With characters like Sir Hop-a-lot and Crumb, I'm curious what their role is. Are they Ella's animal friends that she gave goofy names? Sir Hop looks like he's a part of the royal court in some way, so does he somehow work for the prince? Will it be kind of like Wicked where the anthro-animals are a race amongst humans? Are they looked down on like the trolls? Is it fair that either group is looked down on?

CRUMB! Crumb is a perfect name for the mouse! I'm shocked I've never heard of a mouse named Crumb before.

I've talked before about how I see the early Disney princes as symbols of their princesses' freedom rather than characters and that's why they're "flat". I like that the prince in this show sounds like a parody of that. Like, "What if that flat 'character' was treated like a real character, but still with a similar flatness to him?" I like it. I trust Starkid to do that well.

I'm currently theorizing that Kim's Fairy Queen character will be a combo of sleeping beauty and the fairy godmother, based on her description in the 4/6 live stream and description of the video announcement saying "Kim will awaken the Fairy Queen from her slumbering prison in the realm of death". I don't even know if they'll implement other fairytales into this particular show, but I'm excited.

I love the possibility of a fairytale multiverse from Starkid. Hope that happens one way or another.

WOC CINDY! WOC CINDY! WOC CINDY!

I'm hoping for sapphic Cindy too, Mariah's comment got my hopes up. I'm trying not to get too attached to that idea, but as a lesbian woc that would kill me to see. Correct me if I'm wrong, but SK hasn't had a main queer couple since Firebringer, so it'd be cool to get for me, especially since Cinderella's my favorite fairytale and theater is one of my favorite mediums to consume stories with.

I've seen people theorize that the song in all the trailers is from a bard's perspective. I get that vibe too.

I know I sound like a 5-year-old, BUT I'M SO EXCITED TO SEE WHAT THE BALL GOWN WILL LOOK LIKE! The cover of the 4/6 livestream seemed to give us a slight taste of it. This gold and purple ensemble maybe. Purple is typically the color of royalty, so I love the idea of incorporating it in Ella's dress. And I like the use of rhinestones in her makeup. I wonder how they'll do the dress transformation if they do it. I actually hope we don't see it in its entirety till the show is on stage; I don't want the reveal spoiled.

One thing about Cinderella that's very important to me is the abuse aspect of the tale. Depending on how similar this show is to the traditional version of the tale, I hope it's not ignored. I'm pretty sure it won't be.

EDIT: I made another list of things after the 4/13 livestream

[dent-de-leon]

Molly getting so excited for the chance to finally get all dressed up for a big fancy party. Picking through long flowy dresses and finely tailored suits and corsets laced with soft silk. Entirely taken with an ostentatious costume for a masquerade, all vibrant color and ornate embroidery, glinting with rhinestones in the moonlight. Trying on all manner of horn ornaments and little baubles and trinkets, trading his favorites with Jester as they both twirl in front of the mirror.

Molly thrilled at the thought of what his Magician might look like--long hair tied back, clean-shaven and finely dressed. Imagines taking him by the hand and asking for a dance, stealing him away if all the crowds and attention get to be too much.

Molly the performer, the peacock, the romantic; always ready to put on a show, to dazzle an audience. To be someone else for a night--a mysterious stranger, a grand adventurer--maybe even royalty. Forgetting for a moment the scars Lucien left behind.

[audreyhepburninblackandwhite]

Audrey Hepburn's Pink Givenchy Dress Goes Up for Auction

According to Women's Wear Daily, this Givenchy dress from Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961) will go up for auction next month along with dresses worn by Princess Diana and Grace Kelly.

The auction, called Legends: Hollywood & Royalty, also features props from famous movies like Star Wars and Aliens.

Audrey wore this knee-length Givenchy hot pink silk satin organza in Breakfast at Tiffany's while she played her iconic role Holly Golightly. The pink dress is is embellished with small rhinestones, sequins, beads, a small pink bow on the waist, and gold tassel appliques.

Source: Women's Wear Daily

[evita-shelby]

What Happens in Vegas

Thanks @zablife for the moodboard, i added the heart cake lol

@thegreatdragonfruta

It was supposed to be a pre-honeymoon trip to get away from all the stress from their royalty worthy wedding taking place in a month.

They’d met here, both of them getting shitfaced and testing their good luck before the semester began at Harvard Business College. Jack had gotten there on scholarship, busting his ass to earn his place, Eva got there because of her family’s money. At some point, they met during the endless night and woke up in bed together, forgetting how different they were.

And when they continued their fling during their two years at Harvard, things took their course. They were friends, then he needed a fake girlfriend for his eldest sister’s destination wedding in Cozumel, and when they came back to New York, she was the first woman he had ever been serious about.

He never even considered cheating on her with his boss’ slutty daughter, a thing unheard of in him. By the time they graduated, Jack knew he couldn’t live without her and proposed that same day. They ended up everywhere, which gave them a boost when they started their own investment company together. Nelson and Smith.

Now they’re taking the pink Cadillac convertible he fixed up just for her to the place it all began: Las Vegas.

“I wish I could marry you now, I’m tired of all the waiting.” He admits as the first night here leads them to the casino they met.

Neither care enough about the gambling, just telling everyone who listens that they met here and were getting married in September. They’d gotten free chips, free champagne, and an Elvis impersonator out of duty gave them his card.

“So let’s do it. You heard Elvis, the chapel’s open 24/7.” Eva, who’s impulse control is as terrible as his, says, taking out the card from his pocket.

They blow their winnings on getting ready for it with anyone present here invited to it. It is so unlike the grand event waiting for them at home that it makes it even better. Their family would hate them if the canceled the other one, for fucks sake his granny was coming from Ireland.

Eva looks amazing, a short and tight mini dress and a veil bedazzled with the words till death in black and silver rhinestones. The rings were modest, with the words Mrs. to match his that say Mr.

The cake was fucking weird though.

Eva was incredibly glamorous and cool, but she was also goth. The cake was going to be a heart shaped what happen in Vegas cake for two or two anatomically correct hearts.

Eva didn’t even wait for the guy to finish his sentence to say yes.

By dawn, they were married, and by the time they left Vegas, they had matching tattoos to commemorate their elopement.

“I’m gonna get the hearts as our wedding topper.” The newly minted Mrs. Nelson proclaimed as they left the city in the vintage car now sporting a just married sign.

[aliasofgenericart]

day 3: chimney canopy

backgrounds are still not my strong suite lmao. honestly i kinda hate chimney canopy, but i love the echo there (nineteen spades, endless reflections). rain world spoilers/ me rambling about the art beneath the cut

they became an echo not because of vain, or greed, or other material things, but because they loved the sunrise. they watched the sun rise from the same spot each morning, and became stuck to it when they failed to ascend. they're my second favorite echo, behind rhinestones beneath shattered glass. since they're implied to be of high status. with the count of 2 blocks and allat, i gave them a purple cape thingy since purple fabric historically has been used to designate high status or royalty due to its rarity. oh and i have them guardian ball things because why not i strayed from a the prompt a bit but i did the detailed background practice yesterday alright don't @ me

[princesse-de-ravenclaw]

Champagne Problems (i)

summary: Y/N Y/L/N has everything: a wealthy family, a famous last name, and the most eligible bachelor in the wizarding community as her soon to be husband. What happens when she’s reunited with a forbidden friend from the past?

tw: angst if you squint??  

word count: 3,990

Y/N Y/L/N thought she had everything. A lavish lifestyle, many admirers, a hefty inheritance, and a wealthy man she was promised to marry. Granted, she didn’t know him very well, and had only spent a few minutes with him here and there, he seemed nice enough- definitely the kind of fellow she could learn to fall in love with. Y/N couldn’t really care less about falling in love, anyway. She’d never experienced it, never wanted to. Maybe she would fall in love with her fiancé, maybe they would only go through life together as partners in society. Either way was fine with her. As soon as she said “I Do,” she would gain even more money and an even higher social status. This marriage would make her basically royalty in the wizard community.

An engagement party was being thrown, and all of the noble wizard families were invited to celebrate with Y/N and her fiancé. Y/N’s parents had Amelia Rosehart, the most famous stylist in the Wizarding world, come to create a gown for Y/N for the evening and style her hair and her makeup. “Nothing but the best from here on out!” They declared jovially. They were the most excited for the marriage, as being tied to the Williams family would bring them an even higher social standing as well. They had decorators come in to enchant the ballroom, and caterers apparating in from France- the only event that would be more extravagant than the engagement party was the actual wedding.

Guests started arriving right as Y/N finished getting ready. The elaborate chime of the doorbell began as Amelia put the finishing rouge on Y/N’s lips. The dress was gorgeous- champagne colored, coated intricately with rhinestones. It had a v-shaped neckline with delicate spaghetti straps and fell beautifully into a modified a-line. It really was a masterpiece. Her hair was put into an elegant half-up do with a thin hairpiece made to match her dress, and her eyeshadow was painted on with shimmering neutrals and the most beautiful eyelash extensions money could buy. All of this topped off with a deep red lipstick, Y/N looked like something out of a work of art. Looking in the mirror, she could hardly recognize herself. Reckon I ought to get used to looking like this. This is what the future looks like, Y/N told herself. She held her chin a little higher, looked at herself one last time, and then headed downstairs to greet the first guests to arrive.

Of course, the Williamses were the first to arrive. Mr. Williams, Gerald, was not a tall man. He was rather stout with white hair and white mutton-chop sideburns, and a very stern face. He was extremely interested in politics, and completely unafraid of voicing his opinions. Y/N had only met him twice and she knew to hold her tongue around him. His wife, Margaux, emitted an aura of elegance that was unmatched. Her hair was a light brown, peppered with grays that she wore proudly, unlike Y/N’s mother who fussed over every little silver hair that showed up on her head. Margaux Williams was a beautiful woman, who looked much more youthful than her actual age, but there was something about her face that radiated wisdom and knowledge, she seemed to have lived a thousand lifetimes. Together, they seemed like royalty.

Peter Williams looked like his mother, but in a charming, boyish way. He had short blond hair, naturally wavy and styled back with a copious amount of gel. He had big eyes, a deep blue in color that always seemed to sparkle. He was always clean shaven, with a sharp jawline and prominent cheekbones. He was tall, with an athletic build, and Y/N couldn’t help but notice that he had the whitest teeth she’d ever seen. He was handsome, there was no denying that. Peter was the poster child for perfect boys- he had graduated from Durmstrang the year before, played quidditch from his second through seventh years, and since completing school, he had taken a job at the ministry of magic, just as a formality, of course. It was evident that he didn’t need the money. He was polite and cordial, as far as Y/N knew. She had only spent scattered minutes with him up until now.

“Mr. and Mrs. Williams, Peter, it’s lovely to see you. Please, come in,” Y/N bowed her head politely before stepping aside to let her soon-to-be family enter. “Mimkey will take your coats,” Y/N informed them, motioning to the house elf standing to the left of the entrance. And thus, the small talk began. The weather, Y/N’s upcoming school year, how marvelous Peter was doing at his job in the ministry. It was all very charming and polite, and Y/N wondered for a moment when she would actually get to know these people, other than exchanging small pleasantries. She supposed it wouldn’t matter, maybe she would go the rest of her life only exchanging shallow chitchat with these people, and that was fine. She had been tutored in small talk since before she started at Hogwarts, it was nothing she couldn’t handle.

Shortly after the Williamses arrived, more guests began to show up, and the evening began. Extravagant gifts were brought and set on display: rare wines, expensive candles, intricate bouquets of flowers, among other things. It was all very posh. Y/N tried to greet everyone when they arrived, but after the tenth family showed up, it became nearly impossible. Everyone wanted a chance to chat with the happy couple. As soon as one person was done asking questions, another person would come in and swoop Y/N and Peter away to answer more. Questions about the wedding, did they have plans for a honeymoon yet, were they already thinking about children, it seemed like they answered the same handful of questions hundreds of times over and over. Y/N wondered if Peter was as tired of answering them as she was, and he was just doing a good job of not showing it, or if he actually didn’t mind it at all. If the former was true, Peter was even better at handling formalities than Y/N was. She added that to a mental note of assets that Peter possessed. She was sure that would come in handy in their future.

After a particularly intrusive conversation about their plans for having children, Y/N couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. She was only 17, she wasn’t ready to have children yet. These people were expecting her to finish her 7th year at Hogwarts and immediately get married and start having babies. Her whole life, she knew that when she graduated, she would be married to Peter and her life as a Williams would begin. She had never stopped to think that that meant that she would have to become a stay at home mother at 18. Y/N excused herself from the conversation to get some fresh air. She kept a polite smile on her face as she passed guests, and swept a glass of champagne off of one of the trays that was being passed around as she made her way to the main staircase.

Y/N rushed upstairs and down the hall to the second floor balcony. Thinking she was alone, she let out a deep sigh and gulped down half of her glass. “Small talk can be exhausting,” a voice spoke up, causing Y/N to jump and nearly lose her glass. She knew that voice. She hadn’t spoken to him since they were 11, but his reputation at school preceded him. “Jesus, Sirius, what are you doing out here?” she asked, “What are you doing here at all, actually?” Y/N and Sirius were the best of friends when they were children. The Y/L/N’s and the Blacks were close, but when Sirius got sorted into Gryffindor and started rejecting the Blacks’ family values, Y/N was forbidden from being friends with him, as her parents didn’t want him to taint their perfect proper little girl.

“I was invited. You sent the letter to the whole Black family,” Sirius shrugged. “I assumed they wouldn’t bring you, seeing as none of them really speak to you,” Y/N told him honestly. Sirius cracked a playful smile, “Are you trying to tell me I’m not welcome here?” Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but smile back. “Of course you’re welcome here,” she told him, “But if any of my family sees you and tells you to leave, I didn’t tell you that.” Sirius leaned over and clinked his glass to hers. “You’ve got a deal,” He smiled. “Anyway, I’m out here because I simply cannot stand any of these people,” Sirius answered Y/N’s previous question. “What’s got you out here avoiding your own party?” he asked. “I-ugh- I am not avoiding my own party! I just-“ Y/N sputtered, but Sirius just quirked a brow at her.

“Look,” Y/N sighed, “I can handle the ungodly amounts of small talk. It’s boring, and even a little bit stupid, but I’m good at it, and I can do it. But in there... these people are planning my whole future out for me and I don’t have a say. I always knew my options were going to be limited, I knew that I was going to have to marry Peter and I accepted that. But now that it’s so close, I’m being pressured to drop everything I’ve been looking forward to, just to become a housewife. And a mother. A mother! Can you imagine, me? Leaving school, immediately getting married and then having a baby at 18? I don’t know, I guess I always thought I would have some time to live my life at least a little bit before I had to give everything up,” Y/N shook her head before gulping down the rest of her glass of champagne.

“Yeah, I can see where that might get to be a bit unbearable,” Sirius agreed. “It’s just... I don’t know. I want this. Of course I want this. I just, wanted other things too, I guess. And before tonight I thought I could have it all, but I suppose that was unrealistic to think,” Y/N told him. Sirius could tell that Y/N was ready to change the subject, so he didn’t press. “Well, on the bright side, you look ravishing,” Sirius gave her a wolfish smile. Y/N laughed and rolled her eyes, “Thank you.” It occurred to her then that Sirius’s comment might have been the first genuine compliment she’d gotten all night. Of course, she looked good. With how much money her family had spent on her dress, hair, and makeup, she would certainly hope she looked good. But everyone that had complimented her throughout the evening, it was all about how nice the expensive things looked. The expensive dress, the expensive shoes, the professionally done makeup. Sirius was the only person who had actually complimented her, not even Peter had done that. Sirius didn’t care about all of the fancy extras, and Y/N knew that.

“Earth to Y/N?” Sirius asked, snapping Y/N out of her thoughts. “Sorry, I just...” Y/N trailed off, shaking her head. “Where’d you go?” Sirius tilted his head slightly to the side. “Just...” Y/N sighed, “Just thinking about how shallow all of these people here are. Everything is about money,” she admitted. Sirius nodded silently. He knew, as much as he tried to reject it, he grew up in the same community she did. “And don’t get me wrong, I like money. I enjoy being wealthy and all of the privileges that come with it. But that’s the difference, isn’t it? I know that they are privileges, perks, I understand that I’m fortunate enough to be born into a wealthy family. I’ve seen how some of the kids we go to school with live. I know that I’m lucky, and I never intend to let that go to my head, or forget that it could have easily been me that was born into a lower middle class family. Everyone here, they just take it all for granted. They’re so entitled, they think that they actually deserve everything handed to them on a silver platter. It’s just...” Y/N trailed off.

“It’s sickening,” Sirius finished for her. “It makes you want to take them by the shoulders and shake them and yell ‘get your head out of your arse! You are no better than anyone else, money means nothing in terms of character.’” “Yes, exactly!” Y/N exclaimed with a laugh. “How exactly did you come to have the ideals of a decent person when you grew

up surrounded by all of this bullshit?” Sirius asked her, almost incredulously. “I guess I just like other people too much,” Y/N shrugged. “Most of them go through school only talking to people in our community. I talked to everyone, made friends with everyone, heard everyone’s stories. I guess I took a little bit from all of them and became my own person,” Y/N stared up at the night sky. “Kind of, my own person,” she corrected herself. “Mostly, your own person, I think,” Sirius told her, “I think you’re just holding onto this one last thing that’s going to keep you here forever,” he said honestly.

“No, you’re right. There are so many things I disagree with, so many things I don’t care about. But I love my family, and this is what they’re asking of me, so this is what I have to do,” Y/N nodded, almost to convince herself. Sirius stayed silent. “I um, I ought to get back in there. I can’t be a very good host if I’m hiding out here, can I?” Y/N laughed lightly. “No, I don’t suppose you can,” Sirius smiled, and Y/N thought she saw a bit of disappointment in his eyes. She shook the thought out of her head and turned to walk back inside, but paused at the door. “Hey, Sirius?” she asked, turning to him. “Yeah?” he replied. “Do you think.. do you think it would be okay if we said ‘hi’ to each other, like in the halls at school?” she asked sheepishly. Sirius chuckled and grinned brightly, “I think I would like that.” Y/N grinned back. “Me too. Have fun, don’t get thrown out,” she quipped. “Can’t make any promises. You try not to get brainwashed in there,” he gave her a wink, and with a smile, Y/N returned to the party.

After another hour or so of mingling, it was time for dinner to be served. Y/N was grateful for all of her training in hosting, as she was able to mindlessly chatter away while her mind was lingering on her conversation with Sirius. She discreetly looked for him, while everyone was gathered to eat, but if he came inside for dinner, he was seated in a different room, because Y/N didn’t see him. Peter didn’t talk much, only answered questions he was asked directly, and Y/N did the same. Their parents did most of the talking, and for that, Y/N was grateful. The longer she sat at the dinner table, the more drained she felt. After dessert was served, Margaux clinked her spoon to her glass and everyone fell silent. “Everyone, if you would please gather in the ballroom once you have finished your dessert. Peter has an announcement he would like to make,” She announced. “Mimkey, will you please relay the message to the guests dining in the other rooms?” Y/M/N instructed the house elf. “Of course, master. Mimkey will go now!” she exclaimed, running off to the next room.

Y/N knew what was about to happen. She swallowed her nerves and dabbed her mouth one last time before gracefully standing up, pushing her chair in, and making her way to the ballroom. She stopped in the hallway for just a moment, looking in a decorative mirror to check her makeup one last time before the main event. It was in pristine condition, of course. Magical makeup was charmed to not budge, only coming off with a charmed facecloth. Y/N knew that, but she enjoyed the opportunity to stall, if just for a few seconds. As she made her way down the hallway that lead to the ballroom, Y/N found her thoughts drifting back to Sirius. She wondered if his parents dragged him here to save face and show a united family, or if he had snuck in under the guise of his family’s invitation. Of course, if he had snuck in, he would have to have a reason for why he even wanted to be there. He said himself, he couldn’t stand these people. Why would he want to come to a formal party and be surrounded by them? No, his family must have brought him along.

Once all of the guests were gathered in the ballroom, all but one, it seemed, Peter cleared his throat. “I appreciate everyone’s attendance tonight, it means a lot to my family as well as the Y/L/N’s. As you all know, Y/N and I have been promised to each other since we were children. We have spent the last few months beginning the process of planning for the wedding, but we missed one important step that I would like to take tonight,” He announced. Peter gracefully sank down onto one knee and pulled a dark blue velvet box out of his pocket. “Y/N Y/L/N, we were chosen for each other long before we got the chance to meet. But now that we have met, and had the opportunity to spend some time together, I would like you to know that I am choosing you, for myself. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?” Peter took the ring out of the box and held it up to Y/N.

The wave of “awww!” and “oh, how sweet!” reminded Y/N that this whole evening was about theatrics. It was all fake, of course, all for show. Tonight was the most amount of time they had spent together, and they had been so busy talking to guests, they barely had the opportunity to talk to each other. But of course, the show must go on, so Y/N put on the most dazzling smile she could. “Yes, I will,” She agreed, loud enough for all of the guests to hear. Everyone broke out in a polite round of applause as Peter slipped the ring onto Y/N’s finger and stood up. The photographers were ushered to the front of the crowd to take pictures of Y/N and Peter, and from then on, the night was a blur.

Soon, the Williamses and the Y/L/N’s were waving the guests goodbye, until they were the only six people left. “Darling, the adults have planning to do, why don’t you take Peter to the conservatory, show him all of those plants you’ve been working on?” Y/M/N suggested. “Of course, mother. Peter, come this way,” Y/N offered Peter her hand, and he gently took it, letting her lead the way through the massive house to the room with glass walls. The pair were silent until they reached their destination and Y/N spoke up. “This is our conservatory, although over the last two years, I’ve turned it more into a glorified plant room,” Y/N announced. “I wouldn’t call herbology a passion of mine, but I do enjoy taking care of the plants when I’m stuck at home for the summer,” she admitted. Peter gave a small smile and a light nod. “Due to how delicate some of the plants are, this room is always strictly off-limits to guests, but I guess you’re family now, so...” Y/N trailed off. Peter squeezed her hand gently before letting it go.

“They’re lovely,” he assured her. The two were silent for a few minutes as Peter walked around, admiring Y/N’s plants. “I got a dog,” he finally spoke up. “I’m sorry?” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “When I was in school,” he clarified. “I didn’t have the patience for plants, so I convinced my parents to let me get a dog,” He told her. “I know how insufferable summers can get in between school years. You go on a vacation for two weeks, and then your father is expected back to work and you’re stuck sitting at home for the next six weeks. It’s painfully boring,” he admitted. Y/N laughed, feeling almost relieved that he could relate to her. “Yes!” she exclaimed. “I can’t believe they let you get a dog, I tried that when I was thirteen all the way to when I was fifteen and my mother would not budge. She refused to have a ‘smelly, loud, fowl beast’ in the house,” she shared. “I had so much energy, all the time. I think they just wanted me out of their hair,” Peter told her. “During school, I had quidditch and parties, and whatnot to keep me occupied but when I came home, there just wasn’t enough to keep me active. I would have so much pent up energy, I thought I was going to explode,” Peter laughed fondly.

“Damn, if I had only been more hyperactive,” Y/N joked. “That’s the key to it, should have known,” Peter shrugged playfully. “No, in all honesty it’s okay. For me, it was more about companionship. I would feel terribly lonely at times, and I just wanted a friend to have around at all times. Eventually I talked her into letting me get a cat, but I had to train it not to jump on the counters. Do you know how hard it is to train a cat?” Y/N laughed. “That sounds like one of the most difficult things I’ve ever heard,” he agreed, and then he spoke up softly, “I didn’t know you had a cat.” “Oh, uh, yeah. Her name is Desdemona, after the character in ‘Othello’. Her nickname is Mona,” Y/N told him. “Didn’t know you liked Shakespeare, either,” Peter admitted. “Don’t get me wrong, he had a few plays that I wouldn’t care to read twice, but for the most part, yeah, he’s brilliant,” Y/N smiled faintly.

“Excuse me if this is out of line, but...” Peter hesitated. “Isn’t it just a little bit ridiculous that our parents threw this whole party with the expectation of us to act like we know each other at all? I’m prepared to marry you, and get to know you in time, but all of these theatrics? For what?” he asked. Y/N couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “That’s... not out of line at all,” Y/N assured him, “I’ve been asking myself that same question all night. But... It’s really comforting to hear that you feel the same way.” “I don’t know about your parents, but mine love a good dinner party,” Peter suggested. “Oh, mine do, too. They love to play the role of welcoming hosts. But I have a good feeling your parents just like to have an excuse to brag about you,” Y/N told him. “What can I say?” Peter shrugged dramatically. “They were blessed with the perfect child,” he declared. “Yeah, alright. Don’t get too far up there on your high horse,” Y/N laughed, nudging him playfully.

“Peter, it’s time to say goodbye!” Margaux’s voice rang down the hall, herself and Gerald appearing in the doorway moments later. “I’ll be seeing you,” Peter smiled, and Y/N smiled in return. “Peter!” his mother scolded, “That is no way to leave your financée!” Peter stood facing Y/N with his back to his mother. He playfully rolled his eyes to Y/N and she had to stifle a laugh, before Peter obeyed his mother and took a few steps toward Y/N and leaning down to press a kiss on her cheek. “Have a good night,” he told her. “You, too, Peter. Goodnight, Mr. and Mrs. Williams,” Y/N called to the family. “Goodnight, Dear,” Margaux replied, and with that, the three of them left and the night was finally over.

[safetycar-restart]

Hh!carlos works out and send photos to his wife, I don’t make the rules. He loves being drooled over, but only by her. He loves it when she comes up behind him while he’s cooking and starts feeling him up, running her hands along his biceps or his abs and complimenting him and he genuinely goes weak at the knees when she gives him a little kiss on the shoulder and a squeeze on the arm.

Also hh!carlos low-key reminds me of Bucky from the MCU. He’s just soft and sweet and a teddy bear and my headcanon is that hh!carlos is like, low-key RIPPED and could probably bench-press the people who talk badly about his wife and would gladly do so,cause he works out all the time and goes on like a four mile jog almost every morning, so he’s like a teddy bear but if a teddy bear was 200 lbs of pure muscle and Spanish passion.

Speaking of passion; holidays, birthdays, Valentine’s Day, etc., are actually really hard to shop for because whenever you ask Carlos what he wants his response is immediately “mi Vida, you are the greatest gift I could ever receive. With you in my arms, I want for nothing.” And you’re like, “that’s really sweet honey but your birthday is in three days and I can’t get you a gift because you won’t give me any goddamn ideas and I can’t keep getting you new kitchen utensils/appliances or books or I’ll genuinely start feeling bad.” Whereas you come home on Valentine’s Day to your favourite dinner, and roses everywhere, and nice music playing, and chocolates, and your husband with a bow on his head and a pretty plug in his ass with a pink, heart-shaped idk rhinestone or jewel or whatever idk what that decoration thing is called. Decoration isn’t even the right word I’m just genuinely dumb.

Also Carlos and his wife taking dancing lessons before their wedding (and then just for fun) because “mi corazon, our first dance must be special! You are my Queen and I would be remiss if I did not dance with royalty.” Also Ana’s wedding gave very much old money royalty vibes so it’s only natural that Carlos’ would as well, and he would absolutely keep up the Queen thing THE WHOLE TIME. Because you’re his wife, and his Queen! And his love and his heart and he loves you so much and he’s so ready to be yours for the rest of his life and he absolutely makes teh two of you dress as a knight and a queen for Halloween almost every year (or really famous movie couples because you will do a couples costume every year no exceptions, including Gomez and Morticia multiple times - that one is kind of his favourite because everyone is like “oh wow you guys are so in character!” But Carlos is actually just not holding back on showing affection in public, he’s like that all the time at home people just don’t see the full extent of it.

-💍

OH MY GOD YES!! Honestly I think one of the things I’ve missed the most these past few days is not being able to write hh!Carlos specifically. I adore this.

Firstly, of course he sends you selfies! He's always sending you post workout selfies, and he looks so fucking good it's insane. He's all sweaty from his workout, either shirtless or with a shirt that clings to his muscles. He's always smiling in the camera, flexing a little just to show off.

He doesn't show off to anyone else, but to you? He LOVES being drooled over. He loves feeling your eyes on him so much, loves knowing his wife is watching him and could touch him at any moment.

So naturally he must take every opportunity possible to show off to you. So he simply has to take a selfie after every single gym session and send it to you. (By the way, if you're away he's not above sending nudes, especially if you ask for them, he very nearly died when you were away for a week and you told him to send you a video of him jerking off so that you could get off to it, he still thinks about that even years later).

I also think he sends you a lot of random pictures throughout the day actually? You don't have to respond to them, in fact he doesn't expect a response because he knows you're very busy at work. He just likes to send you things! Like how he baked a cake so he must send you a pic or he cleaned the lounge and sends you a pic.

He just loves keeping you informed on what he's doing. (I think Charles thrives on days where you work from home because he can basically in a 24/7 dynamic, getting his instructions from you and serving you and it's amazing).

I love the idea that the only way Carlos stresses you out is that he never tells you what to get him for stuff like Christmas, birthdays, anniversaries etc. Because he has everything he could ever want! And if there's ever anything else he wants, like some new clothes or new workout gear, then he'll just ask because you're his wife and your job is to provide for him. And of course you never consider saying no and getting him the thing for his birthday or Christmas.

And well... there's only so many times you can buy him new kitchen appliances before it gets ridiculous (you can basically count how many years you've been together by how many air fryers you have).

You feel so bad, because you always have to settle for some copout gift but carlos is there decorating the whole house and making a special meal and everything. He puts SO much effort into it, because he LOVES showing you how much he loves and appreciates you. Your birthday is a national holiday to him.

I also think you'll sometimes come home and he's made a big deal out of dinner for no real reason? The table is decorated and he's naked with a special plug in and his play collar, kneeling next to the table to sit with you while you eat and then be played with. There's no reason for this, he just wanted to do something for you.

And the biggest event of all is your anniversary. Because of course it is. It's the you became his wife! The most important day of the year in his opinion.

I like the idea that maybe you two don't go away on your actual anniversary, choosing to have a normal day at home instead and just really making sure to enjoy your time together and cherish each other.

Then, a week or two later, you'll go on a vacation together. Sometimes it's just a weekend away, other times it's a week or two, it just depends on how much time you can be away from work.

Carlos is overjoyed with any amount of time though, simply because it's time with his wife! That's all he could ever need.

And yeah the wedding was very much old money style. Knowing Carlos, he probably announced his plans to quit his job and become a house husband at the wedding? He has this long speech about how much he loves you and how excited he is for the rest your lives together and then just announced his retirement right there.

[mrcowboydeanwinchester]

🔪 Revenge for Dummies 💋

jomeg fic - 10k - rating: T - high school AU - 2stab2fest - read on ao3

“You said it yourself that being lesbian has novelty value! So it is a popularity move!” Meg shrieks. With blood smeared across her face and eyes wild with the power of standing on a table in two inch heels, she looks demonic. She looks incredible, Jo thinks. She looks like royalty. “We are being QUEERBAITED."

Jo is the queen bee of Midwest High, all until Meg steals the throne by claiming Jo is queerbaiting the school. What follows is the epic tale of Jo’s homoerotic revenge mission. It’s about girlhood and popularity and lesbianism and being a batshit insane 16 year old—with a knife!

written for the brilliantly run 2stab2fest and accompanied by gorgeous art from @keikakudom !!

chapter 1 of 5 below cut!

High School 101

Though it might’ve come as a shock to her 10 year old self, at 16, Jo Harvelle’s life is one long chick-flick moment. We’re talking resident queen bee of Midwest High with a side-dish of blonde bombshell best served hot. She rules alongside her best friend and loyal confidant Claire Novak, and their passionate alliance is founded on the fact they met in the opening weeks of middle school, when Claire found Jo reading Beginner’s Book to Blade Wielding in the quietest corner of the library and asked if she could read it with her.

It therefore may come as a surprise to some that Jo and Claire have ascended the ranks of social status with such ease and grace. Stabby lesbians with dearly departed daddys don’t often tend to work the runways of high school popularity, after all, but the facts of the matter fall like this: Jo has always been an outcast, but now she gets to be distant in the way royalty is and not in the way lepers are. Like, untouchable, but make it chic. 

The lesbian thing turns out to be pretty helpful too. Jo and Claire are known for their Biker Barbie lesbian swag, which, at Midwest High, provides the perfect intersection of gender. The boys are into their leather jackets, but Jo and Claire don’t want them back, and the girls crave their nonchalantly fashionable attitude, so Jo and Claire can bask in their heterosexually-awed stares. It’s a perfectly measured concoction of being the most beautiful girls in the whole school but not doing it for the guys. Jo and Claire simply aren’t like other girls, and so all the other girls want to be like them. 

So animal skin, pop-punk listening habits, and blonde hair. Paired with the incomprehensible fact they are two sapphic best friends who aren’t in love with each other, the whole school is pliant under their sweet and unbothered thumbs. Claire even had the incredible idea to glue Biker Barbie in pink rhinestones to the backs of their matching leather jackets. They are an inseparable gang of two and they rule the school, stomping past lockers and lesser students in matching black leather jackets, ripped jeans, and gleaming Doc Martens.

And it’s a fucking difficult life.

That’s Jo, right there, the protagonist of our Riverdalian love story. 

Yeah, hi, it’s me. And let me tell you, the pressures of being the lesbian leader of hundreds of high school aged monstrosities are pretty near infinite. Firstly, I’m 16. I’ve never even kissed a girl, and somehow being one of the first kids in my grade to come out means I’m some dykey messiah. It’s a pretty impressionable age to be seen as a sexuality first and a person second. 

Secondly, everyone in this place is like, stinking rich. Yachts and lawyers and mansions abound and so nobody can ever know me and mom scrape by living above a literal bar. All the rich kids have aloof, only vaguely invested parents, so they can do what they want, but I’m cursed with a mom who loves me and so is ridiculously interested (read: controlling) in my life. It’s just a shame my dad makes up for this by not being interested enough, in that he is dead.

Finally, amid the other infinite reasons why maintaining my monarchal image is hellishly hard, I’m not obliviously iconic like Cher from Clueless. I’m not just some dumb box bleach blonde—I’m the girl who’s making ‘freak with the knife collection’ work for her. That’s a hard line to walk. It’s a fucking tightrope. And I’ve been walking it for years. 

On the topic of walking, another of our story’s featured cast is now strutting into view. We’re alongside Jo and Claire in the cafeteria at lunch, gazing down on the masses of normies from the heights of the exclusive Royal Banqueting Table. Popularity is performance, and so the Royal Banqueting Table is the only one in the cafeteria on a raised bit of floor. It’s a stage, essentially; it’s like sitting in the royal box or the back of the bus. 

And through the maze of tables, past the nerds and the basketball team and the theater kids—this is a high school, after all—Meg Masters and The Rubies are winding their way towards Jo and Claire. Jo’s hackles raise at the sight of them, and she points them out to Claire with a nudge and a roll of her eyes. 

Meg Masters is just like the other girls. She wears tight dresses and little tops and buys all-natural avocado shampoo which has the word ‘organic’ on the bottle but which her daddy flies in from Hawaii. She is rich rich, with the kind of house so big her parents keep their sailing boat in the front garden. But with the hordes of hell hounds baying for blood at the grand entrance of the passcode protected gates, it’s not like anyone at Midwest High has ever gotten the chance to really see it. 

Well, anyone at Midwest High apart from Jo. 

Because Jo and Meg had been best friends once upon a time, back in kindergarten and elementary school, in that squishy age where time isn’t real but friends are. They had been everything to each other, vowing solemnly at sleepovers never to lose the friendship which was blossoming so pure between them. 

It wasn’t pure, Meg dropped me the second she got the chance to. The instant we reached high school, the ties were cut. 

Jo doesn’t remember exactly how their friendship ended, she just knows it hurt her more than anything else ever has.

Shut up, I remember it. Meg was a bitch. I guess some girls are just built different: she went out shopping with her flaky new rich friends, and me and Claire built a small empire.

It is perhaps pertinent to mention here that while Jo is a very self-aware lesbian, she hasn’t quite mastered the art of feminism yet. She is only 16, after all. 

Meg has equipped herself with new friends since the disintegration of her friendship with Jo, and these new friends take the form of The Rubies. If Meg keeps hell hounds at home, The Rubies are the demonic little chihuahuas who cling to her heels at school. Ruby 1 and Ruby 2 are essentially indifferentiable apart from the fact that Ruby 1 is blonde, with mean little bangs, and Ruby 2 is a pissy brunette. Underneath the skin they are both the same: shallow, devilish girls who delight in igniting chaos and looking good while doing it. So while the words Meg and The Rubies sound like a spunky indie girl band, the reality is that they are beautiful, invulnerably rich teens who love nothing better than making everyone else’s life hell. 

“Meg and The Rubies at 12 o’clock,” Claire announces to the table.

The royal court of Bela Talbot, Rowena MacLeod, and Billie (nobody knows their last name, in the same way nobody knows Adele’s or Madonna’s—you simply don’t need to) chorus a sympathetic sigh. They are staples of the Royal Banquet Table, being more loyal to the power of The Table than to the current monarchy itself, and so Jo and Claire tolerate them. Rowena’s basically a witch, and Bela’s English, and Jo is pretty sure Billie could strangle her with their bare hands and she’d say thank you, so. It’s not like they’re unattractive company.

Besides, there’s another member of the table Jo is more concerned with.

Dean Winchester leans over to Jo, and in a rarely captured example of sensible advice, says, “ignore them, Jo, they’re not worth your time.”

Dean Winchester is different to Bela, Rowena, and Billie. He makes Jo’s very lesbian brain come to an unwilling and baffling stop. She looks into his dewy green eyes and she hears white noise. He’s a senior, and he exclusively wears his dad’s too-big leather jacket because he thinks it makes him look cool (it kinda does) and Jo would die before admitting that sometimes it feels like no one else’s opinion of her in the whole world matters apart from his. 

Hey, fuck off! My feelings about Dean Winchester are perfectly normal.

“Yeah, you too,” Jo replies to Dean. And conversation is a subjective artform, but that is not the correct response to Dean’s previous statement. 

Dean smiles at Jo anyway, like she’s somehow fun to be around, and she’s glad that if being the Teen Queen of the school gets her anything, it’s this. Dean hangs out with them some days, when he feels like it. Mostly he hangs out in the school’s garage working on cars, and more recently he’s been spending time in the gardens with the new transfer student Clarence. 

My gaydar senses something is up there, by the way.

Jo is at least right about that. 

Noice.

But as much as Jo tries to take Dean’s surprisingly sensible advice to ignore Meg and The Rubies, this is proves a lot more difficult than expected when Meg stalks over to the Royal Banqueting Table, steps up on the bench and onto the table itself, and lands the heels of her two inch stilettos right into the bread of Jo’s sandwich.

Jo peers up past the ankle—plump and solid—up the shin—shaved smooth and speckled strawberry—to the thigh—soft and fleshy—and then almost but not quite up her teeny tiny silky skirt.

“The fuck are you doing? Get your weirdly impractical shoes out of my sandwich stat, Masters,” Jo growls. 

“Sorry, Josephine, no can do,” Meg says, her dainty lips curling maliciously around her words.

“You know that’s not my name.”

“Oh, is it not? That fact must have walked out of my brain the day you walked out of my life.”

Jo scoffs. “The day I walked out on you?”

“Okay, Meg, get off the table and stop making a scene,” Dean cuts in, trying to stench the flow of petty words before the drama dam bursts. He is unsuccessful.

Meg smiles. “Sorry, Deano. I have an announcement to make, and this table is my stage.” Her voice is rich as honey but dangerous as dart frog venom.

It is then that Jo sees the Gucci megaphone clutched in Meg’s perfectly manicured hands. 

This is so not groovy. 

“Hear ye, hear ye,” she begins before Claire can swipe the megaphone out of her hands and Dean can try and defuse the situation further. The Rubies are now standing either side of the Royal Banqueting Table like femme-fatale bouncers, effectively immobilizing the royal court. 

The whole cafeteria falls obediently silent. Somewhere among the fringe groups, a phone buzzes, and is quickly stifled.

“I know we’re all obsessed with Jo and Claire, our Biker Barbies. They’re the reigning queens of our little high school, right? And what do we love them for? Their cutesy little rhinestone jackets, their perfectly blonde hair? Their lesbian swag?” 

Jo and Claire exchange perturbed looks. Around the cafeteria, students are nodding affirmatively; if this is Meg trying to start a Les Mis style anti-monarchy rebellion, she’s gonna have to go a little more opera.

“But what if I told you that having matching Hobby-Lobby jackets isn’t the flex you think it is? What if I told you that they bleach their hair to make it that color?” 

An uneasy muttering sweeps across the hall, and Jo suddenly realizes: Meg is working up to something. 

What if she tells them about how I live above a creepy bar? What if she tells them about the dusty-ass van mom drives me halfway to school in? What if she tells them about how invested my mother is in my life and wellbeing and how weird it is that there’s only a twenty year age gap between us and that sometimes I feel more like I’m living in a documentary about troubled young women rather than a chick-flick movie?

“What if I told you that little Joey here isn’t a real lesbian?”

Jo almost spits out her water, the laugh comes out of her so hard. “What? Come on, jello-head, I’ve been averting my eyes from lingerie stores since I came out the womb.”

“Is that so, Harvelle?” Meg sings, and her eyes flash obsidian. “Because I have it on good authority that you, self-proclaimed cowgirl and lover of posse, have a crush on Dean Winchester.”

Suddenly everything about the situation is a lot less funny. The room erupts riotously, screeches of jeers and laughter echoing across the hall. Jo feels the blood rush to her face hard and fast, much like how she imagines an erection might feel if it was brought on by intense shame. Next to her, Dean’s minty eyes are wide and staring. She flinches away from him like his touch might corrupt her all-important lesbianism. 

“No, I don’t!” Jo cries. Her voice goes unheard over the chaos of the hall.

“Awh,” Meg sighs, pouting down patronizingly at where Jo is now shaking with rage in her seat,  “that’s exactly what someone with a massive crush on Dean Winchester would say.”

“You can’t just say she’s not a lesbian, only she can say that!” Claire screams indignantly. She scrambles up beside Meg before The Rubies can pull her down and wrestles the megaphone from her hands, giving her a solid elbow to the nose as she does so. Meg’s head ricochets back and her nose bursts, bloody in her hands. 

“Shut up!” Claire bellows into the megaphone. Her cry rebounds across the far wall of the cafeteria at such a volume several kids covered their ears, and the hall falls sheepishly silent a second time. A few whispers snake across the air, though, and Jo feels her kingdom slip a little further from her grasp. “Use your brains, boneheads. As if Jo would lie about being a lesbian. Where’s the fun in that? This butt-crazy bitch just wants what we have and you can’t let her lap it up.”

“You can’t call me a bitch, that’s misogynistic!” 

“You can’t call Jo straight, that’s homophobic!”

“You said it yourself that being lesbian has novelty value! So it is a popularity move!” Meg shrieks. With blood smeared across her face and eyes wild with the power of standing on a table in two inch heels, she looks demonic. She looks incredible, Jo thinks. She looks like royalty. “We are being QUEERBAITED.”

Oh, fuck. As much as I like to channel Taylor Swift, I don’t think I can come back from the Q word like she can.

And so that is the day that Jo and Claire lose the Teen Queen crown; that is the day the Biker Barbies’ heads feel the cold sharp cut of the guillotine. Meg and The Rubies are the new reigning monarchs of Midwest High. 

[missv4mpsdiary]

Random Stuff

The rules are to answer and tag some people you want to know better and/or catch up with. I was kindly tagged by @hauntedveil. That is my first mention so it means alot to me! Thank you! Favorite color: I love purple! I like all sorts of purple because it’s a color of royalty, queer culture (lavender) and spirituality (crown chakra). I have so many possessions in purple like my hair, phone case, computer mouse, backpack and room/halloween decoration. The list goes on and on, always consider it the best bet.

Last song: I’ve been listening to Gidropony’s “Princess Coca”. It’s very whimsical and upbeat. I used to grow up with this band because my mom was into “indie bands” so I usually listen to this song for nostalgic and reminiscent purposes. I did a little video on my tiktok to it but I don’t think many people know about it?? I thought it went with my bloody rhinestone makeup with the sword charm and matching nose bleed since the lyrics mentioned the booger sugar.

Currently reading: Stuck between picking up a new manga recommendation or still continuing the persistence of finishing “My Lesbian Experience With Loneliness” by Nagata Kabi. I feel too much for the author and I heard there’s a new update so I am cheering cautiously cause that could be a hint that her life got a little worse.

Currently craving: Trader Joe’s Spicy Lentil Wrap or Carne Sopes (Mexican Sopes). I haven’t had the wrap since the beginning of the summer. I had it as a special munchy treat after dumpster diving on my campus and collecting random stuff. Sopes are just a general homemade dish I tend to consider one of the comfort foods I can eat back to back

Coffee or tea: Tea most likely. I wish I could declare my own category (Matcha) but on a technical scale, I drink green tea and spearmint tea consistently. It’s to balance out my hormones since I have PCOS. I have too much testosterone, probably more than the average CIS male. So I chug it down with my supplements and birth control in hopes it’ll help me because I'm putting my faith in old wives tales.

Tagging: @bonesandall666 @the-sweetest-sugarcookie @your-local-queer-punk

[dojae-huh]

not sure if this is personal taste but I always find Doyoung’s after party look so much better than the main show look. Hair, makeup, outfit everything is better.

what are the chances we’re getting a Jaedo selfie or a pic together just the two of them (I don’t want to leave woo out but I desperately need a Jaedo pic)

JaeDo selca? Very low.

I prefer Do's showtime looks when it comes to clothes only. This time the pants were also better for the day look.

The difference is in the image. For the afterparty everything is toned down, so Do looks like a rich famous person in "plain everyday clothes" casually paying a visit. So there is this aura of a nonchalant celebrity. The day looks are showtime looks. They need to be "spectacular". The first rhinestone suit was pretty mediocre on itself, but the whole "shiny" paired with opera singer hairstyle gave the impression of royalty. Meanwhile, there is a strong association of naked men in vests with deliberate sexualisation (strippers, pin up models, servants in bars, men out to get chicks in a night club, this). Thereby, although Doyoung arguebly looked very well, the vest and trousers hugged him and showed off his figure, his shoulders, the "noble man" was absent. Noblemen are noblemen because they follow rigid rules and decorum. Which modern suits emulate.

It's not just the naked shoulders, it's the stitching on the lapels, the fugly brouche that don't align with "royal". Most importantly, the white hair's "wow" potential wasn't used in the look. Again, it's the DG style they push. I complain only as a Do's fan who wants the most for propelling of his popularity through these BA activities.

To be honest, I won't be surprised if Do chose the naked shoulders look himself among the offered options. He is no expert in fashion, but he knows what fans like, haha. More skin. He needs to show the result of his home physical exercises afterall. The fruits of labour should be capitalised on.

[glitchtricks94]

Lowkey thinking about a royalty AU with Itto, he’d be the next in line or something (kinda like a Crown Prince ig??)

I could be a pretty little princess coming to visit his kingdom or empire, maybe attending a ball or visiting on diplomatic business

I’d be in my pretty dress, maybe it would be like a dark purple dress, sleeveless or off the shoulder, with some rhinestones on it that would make it look like a night sky :3 (can you tell I want a ball gown)

Maybe he’d notice me, maybe not 🤷‍♀️

That sounds like a royal au! I can see a pretty star crossed lovers thing playing out with a war going on and you and Itto being in love and meeting out on the battle fields at night, wanting nothing more than to marry. Peace would only be made upon your wedding day! The royal ball too? AGH! Cinderella vibes are off the charts, it'd be so cuuuttteeeeeeeeeeee!