#smoky sequins

[wheeboo]

a night to remember | joshua hong

SYNOPSIS. in which a handsome stranger at the bar catches your attention. PAIRING. joshua hong x gn!reader (ft. twice's jihyo since she was the first person to pop up in my head) GENRE. fluff, suggestive, 1920s-ish au, one-night stand au, strangers to ?? WARNINGS. implied sexual content (no actual smut), mentions of cigarettes (reader+jihyo smokes cuz it was socially acceptable at the time) and alcohol, drinking, kissing WORD COUNT. 2.9k

notes: this is obviously based off this masterpiece of a song "a night to remember" by beabadoobee and laufey which i could never do justice but i hope you enjoy! i also impulsively wrote this whole thing btwn the hours of 12-3am so its pretty rushed oops 😭

The dim glow of the flickering marquee lights of the bar spill onto the rain-soaked streets outside, beckoning every passerby to enter into the hazy world of cigarette smoke and clinking glasses. Each swinging of the door releases a burst of warm, smoky air into the cool, drenched night. The air buzzes with the lively chatter of other people, mingling in with the sultry notes of the saxophone and the sweet melodies of the piano drifting through the heavy atmosphere of the bar.

Sat on a worn-out barstool, you bring a cigarette up to your lips and inhale deeply as your eyes flutter to a close, the smoke from the tip suspending in the air and mixing with the potent scent of whiskey also filling your lungs.

"Must you always sit like a boring bystander? Come on, we're here to have fun!" Jihyo stumbles her way right next to you, her sequined dress glistening under the lights like a kaleidoscope.

You only respond to her with a playful roll of your eyes. And with a wry smile, Jihyo plucks the cigarette from your fingers, taking a theatrical, languid drag of her own before flicking the ashes into an already well-worn tray.

You scoff lightly, taking out a fresh cigar. "Well, you already took me here without much of a choice."

Jihyo raises an eyebrow, her grin unwavering. "Afraid of a little fun?"

"Not afraid," You reply with a smirk, swiftly igniting the cigar and leaning back against the bar behind you. "Just comfortable observing the fun itself."

"If you're just going to sit there and look pretty, you might as well have someone to look pretty for, honey," Jihyo teases, her eyes momentarily scanning across the room.

A puff of smoke escapes your lips as you retort, "Easy for you to say."

"Life's too short to be a wallflower, Y/N!" Jihyo exclaims dramatically.

"The excitement will come when it wants to, not when I force it, honey," You reply cryptically.

Jihyo drinks the rest of the bourbon from your glass before taking one last, begging glance in your direction. When you don't seem to want to budge, she shoots you a faint, pert grin before turning away towards the dance floor, each step she takes accentuating the dramatic shake of her hips. You can't help but let out a low chuckle.

The bar was not usually a place where you found yourself willingly. Usually, you'd take the comfortable bubble of your place over the haughty energy of this any day. But tonight, for some reason, the familiar discomfort feels strangely comforting; and plus𑁋much to Jihyo's preference of unwinding𑁋you didn't have much of a choice either way.

From the side, you have the opportunity to simply watch. For example, there's a couple lost in each other's gaze sitting a few tables away from you. Maybe today is their first date, maybe they're rekindling a flame that has flickered in the past, or maybe they've been together for years, and this is their escape from the routines of life.

Then, down at the centre of the bar and close to the small stage at the front where a beautiful young woman stood with a microphone in front of her, there's a group of young friends sharing laughter of their own that gets lost in the music. It reaches your ears almost perfectly the more you focus on them, and it makes you smile to yourself𑁋you like seeing other people happy.

You turn yourself around on the barstool, facing the array of alcohol bottles that are all perfectly lined up together on the shelves. You cup your empty glass in your hands, swaying it lightly as the sounds of the ice clinking against the sides echo softly. The bartender who was perhaps metres away seems to notice your empty glass and gives you a nod, silently asking if you'd like a refill.

You raise your glass in acknowledgment. The bartender approaches up to you and reaches for a bottle with practiced ease, the amber liquid flowing smoothly into your glass once more.

But just as you were about to bring the cup to your lips, the sound of the door creaking open catches your attention. A new figure steps into the bar, their silhouette momentarily framed by the rain-soaked glow from outside, and you notice it's a man. A black fedora sits on his head, hiding away any view you could possibly have of his face, and he wore an elegant black suit with a bow tie that seems to glisten with a subtle sheen against the lighting of the bar.

It wasn't until he takes off his fedora that you realise you just can't seem to stop staring at him, even with all the people brushing past him like he doesn't exist and the hectic activity of the bar. His blonde hair is perfectly styled and coiffed, his features gentle yet carrying an air of both mystery and familiarity. It's almost as if you've seen him before, but nothing particular in your mind rings a bell. Perhaps while walking down the street, across the quiet room of the city's library, or something as ridiculous as your past life, his face might have crossed your path at some point.

You watch the way he scans the room, appearing a bit lost but also intrigued, as if he's searching for something or someone.

And when he eventually lets his eyes sweep across the room and to the bar, his eyes lock onto yours like a snap, and it's enough to send a subtle shiver down your spine. The air seems to thicken for a moment, and you couldn't tell if it was the hint of alcohol in your system that's playing with your vision or something else. His lips play into a slight smile as his eyes hold yours, and he puts his fedora back on, before you lose track of him in the crowd in a sudden blink.

You find yourself briefly dazed, spinning around to face the bar once more. You're quick to grab onto your glass once more, seeing the way your reflection sways in the amber liquid as you take a moment to collect yourself. All it took was one look to have your head spinning and your heart racing with a man you probably would never see again.

"What can I get for you?" the voice of the bartender catches your attention.

You glance up to answer. "Oh, I don't need𑁋"

"Just two waters, please."

At the corner of your eye, a black fedora sets itself down on the counter next to you. You turn, and there he is𑁋the man from earlier, standing with a confident yet intriguing demeanour. The bartender nods and gets to work, pouring two glasses of water.

The man turns to you, eyes dark like the night itself. "Mind if I join you?" he asks, a subtle tilt to his lips. His voice is smooth like a well-played jazz tune.

You're taken aback for a moment. The bartender places two glasses of water on the bar in front of you, and you nod, almost hesitantly. The man sidles into the seat beside you, his fingers subtly brushing the tips of yours as he secures himself comfortably on the barstool, and it sends a jolt through your body, a sensation that lingers longer than it should. You catch a whiff of his cologne, both intoxicating and familiar, as it intertwines with the lingering scents of tobacco and whiskey.

"Thank you," he says, eyes never leaving yours as he lifts the glass of water to his lips. "The water is for you, by the way."

You chuckle shyly as you tap your fingers against the cold glass of water, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. "Water? In a place like this?"

He smirks at this, a sight both amusing and enticing. "Well, we don't want to do anything regrettable, right?"

His words seem to crawl under your skin, and it's enough to convince you. You take a sip of the water, the cool liquid a stark comparison to the warmth spreading through all the corners of your body, and you suddenly feel more awake than ever. He also takes another sip of his own water, his eyes following your every move as you nearly down the entire glass. The way he looks at you𑁋with that dark, piercing stare that heavily clashes with the soft features of his handsome face𑁋makes your heart pound in your chest.

Around you, the bar has seemingly grown quiet, the only sound the soft music playing in the background. You can feel the heat of his gaze on your skin, and it's taking everything in you not to choke.

He breaks the silence with a charming smile, eyes now softened. "I'm assuming you don't come here often, do you?"

You meet his gaze with a coy smile, the corners of your mouth lifting. "You're quite the detective, aren't you?" There's a satisfied look to his face, and you clasp your hands together. "but to answer your question𑁋no, not exactly. How about you?"

"Ah, I had just moved here recently, actually," he reveals, which still doesn't seem to help the fact that you swear you've seen him before. It still draws you in, of course, and you can't help but wonder more about the mystery surrounding him𑁋both the one in his eyes and the one lingering in the air. The dim light of the bar casts a subtle glow on his features, and you find yourself captivated by the play of shadows and highlights dancing on his face.

"Welcome to the city then," You say it like a grand gesture. "It could be quite daunting at times, but you'll get used to it."

His gaze doesn't waver, and there's a quiet intensity in the way he studies you. "Perhaps I could get used to it faster if I had the right company."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and you're suddenly acutely aware of the proximity between you two. The bar, the jazz music, the muted conversations around you𑁋all fade into the background as if the world has momentarily narrowed down to the space between your barstools.

"Smooth," You reply, a half-smile playing on your lips. "Is that your usual approach?"

He chuckles. "Only in certain situations."

A sly grin forms on your face. "And is this one of those situations?"

He tilts his head slightly as if in thought. "If you want it to be, of course."

All you could do is let out a soft laugh𑁋a laugh that blends with the faint jazz music playing in the background, a laughter that indeed signals the beginning of an unpredictable night.

"To new beginnings?" You raise your nearly-empty glass of water up to him.

He raises his glass in response, and the crystal-clear water catches the ambient lighting above, creating a small, sparkling spectacle on the surface of the bar counter.

"To new beginnings," he echoes.

The next minutes fly by in a breeze. Usually, letting people into your little bubble only causes for you to raise your guard up a bit more. You certainly didn't expect an utter stranger to intrigue you this much, just like a moth to a flame, especially in a place you never frequented to attend. You don't even mind the way his hand somehow found its rightful place on top of yours as you simply talked, or the way a glass of water can make you feel more alive than the strongest drink in the entire bar. And instinctively, your eyes would focus on the way his lips move he as he spoke, just barely catching all the words leaving his mouth.

When the music shifts to a more intimate tone, he looks into your eyes, a subtle invitation lingering in the air.

"Care to share a dance?" he asks, and the simple invitation is enough to course that warmth of anticipation through you once more.

The decision lingers in the air and his hand is extended towards you, a heartbeat away from being made.

And without a word, you slide off the barstool, your hand finding its place in his. He locks his grip on yours, and drags you in the direction of the small dance floor, the pungent smells of cigarette smoke and aged whiskey lingering as you weave through the crowd together.

When he suddenly pulls you closer to him, the scent of his cologne envelops you. His hand rests securely on the small of your back, guiding you with a subtle yet confident touch, the warmth of his fingers seeping through the fabric of your outfit. It sends a thrill through your body that heightens every single one of your senses.

As the music reaches its spirited crescendo, he spins you gently, the movement endearingly awkward, but you both don't care. When he brings you back into his arms, you're suddenly close to him way more than before, enough for his lips to be so close to yours that you can feel his warm breath against your skin.

The song slowly approaches its end, but he doesn't let you go. Yet just as the distance between your lips disappears, he stops. A teasing grin plays on his face, and he pulls away slightly, though your gaze doesn't intend to move away from his mouth.

"You're one of those," You remark airily.

He spins you around again, letting his fingers dance on the skin of your back. "Guilty as charged."

As the song draws to a close, he dips you in a move that feels straight out of a film. Your heart races, and when he pulls you back up, his lips are dangerously close to yours again. But this time, he doesn't hold back, and the kiss is a slow burn, gentle yet intensely passionate. One of his hands come to delicately cup your face, and the other brings you flush against him.

When the kiss breaks, he smiles, a genuine and warm expression that makes your heart flutter.

"Tell me your name," he whispers, breath caressing your cheek.

You meet his gaze, a playful glint in your eyes. "Maybe we’re more similar than you believe."

This only makes him lean in once again.

"Let's keep it that way, then," he suggests, grinning against your ear as if sharing a secret meant for only you. "Care to get out of here?"

It doesn't anything more than that for you to agree with a smile. Without uttering a word, you nod, your hand still entwined with his as you allow him to guide you through the dissipating crowd towards the exit of the bar. He ushers you outside, and the cool droplets that linger on the city's surfaces glisten under the streetlights.

The lively jazz bars highlight at the heart of the city within the late hours of the night, and his place isn't much farther than you anticipated thankfully.

It all happens so fleetingly𑁋one moment you're outside the door to his place, and another you're within the comfort of his bedroom, kissing him so feverishly with your fumbling hands on the buttons of his suit until you both fall on the bed, that the world outside seems to vanish. And when his hand makes contact with your skin for the first time, you could only gasp.

This is a night you will remember, and you'll make sure of it.

You dress yourself back in your clothes in the hushed morning. A comfortable silence lingers in the room, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the waking city. The rain outside has completed ceased away, bathing the bedroom in a soft glow of dawn.

The events of the night replay in your mind like a reel of a film𑁋the moment your eyes first met, the touches of his hands against yours, the kiss you shared on the door floor, and the whispers of sweet nothings to your ear right underneath the sheets you sat atop.

"Leaving so soon?" he asks from behind, the huskiness of his voice making you pause.

You can sense the unspoken words hanging in the air𑁋the silent acknowledgment that this is a chapter that closes as the sun rises.

"Unfortunately, I must," You reply with a wistful smile, reaching for your shoes. "Real life calls."

He sits up on his bed, the sheets pooling around his waist, and you can't help but admire the way the morning light dances on the bareness of his body, his disheveled hair, and the remnants of the night before etched into his beautiful skin. There’s a subtle tension that crackles in the air, and he clears his throat.

"Will I… see you again?"

You turn to face him, the playfulness in your eyes replaced by a hint of contemplation. The smile still doesn’t fade away from your lips.

"Who knows? Life is full of surprises, after all."

He watches you for some time as you fully dress yourself, a gaze struggling between the line of intimacy and distance, letting his eyes soak in your figure.

"Do you regret it at all?"

A pause, like a second and an eternity rolled into one. The room holds a quiet acknowledgment, a shared understanding that some moments are meant to be lived fully, without dwelling on what comes after, while others are meant to come and go like a shooting star. You aren’t entirely sure which this falls under.

"No," You answer simply, before setting your feet on the floor and standing up. "Not at all."

Another round of silence follows as you gather the rest of your belongings, trying to ignore the bittersweet ache in your chest threatening to cut you open. You feel his gaze lingering on you as you move about the room, still feeling those embers of the night before dancing upon your skin, as if they're fighting their way to linger a little longer, to save every last trace of the moments you shared.

"Joshua," he states as if in response to the unspoken question hanging in the air. "Joshua Hong."

His name escapes his lips like a secret, and you savour the sound of it, committing it to memory, committing him to memory. You ponder the thought of what it would be like to have your name said at the tip of his tongue in some other distant, intimate moment.

"Y/N," You whisper your name in return, the final piece of the exchange. "Y/N L/N."

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli

[miazims]

I wanted to return to making CC showcases for the CC of the day but they might not be daily. Here's the CC of 14/05/2024

CC links under the cut.

Outfit 1:

Hair: [Hezeh] FHair_No.6 - The Sims 4 Create a Sim - CurseForge

Crown: The Sims Resource - Prom Queen Tiara

Earrings: The Sims Resource - Amelia earrings

Eyeliner: The Sims Resource - Smoky eyes Eyeliner

Lipstick: The Sims Resource - Prom 2k24 Lipstick

Dress: The Sims Resource - Prom - Sequin Maxi Pencil Dress

Outfit 2:

Hair: CasualSims - Mila Hairstyle - The Sims 4 Create a Sim - CurseForge

Eyeshadow: The Sims Resource - Eyeshadow A53

Eyeliner: The Sims Resource - Ninko Eyeliner

Lipstick: The Sims Resource - Lipstick A178

Top: The Sims Resource - Makina Top

Skirt: The Sims Resource - CC.Dayana Skirt Set

Nails: The Sims Resource - Short Almond Neutral Glossy Prom Nails

Outfit 3:

Hair: SONYASIMS - DELIVERER HAIR - The Sims 4 Create a Sim - CurseForge

Eyeshadow: The Sims Resource - Dark Prom Eyeshadow

Eyeliner: The Sims Resource - Eyeliner A161

Lipstick: The Sims Resource - Diana Lipstick N.563

Dress: The Sims Resource - Prom - Wonderland Gown.

Outfit 4:

Hair: The Sims Resource - Prom QUEEN PROM HAIR

Earrings: Ophelia Earrings - The Sims 4 Create a Sim - CurseForge

Blush: The Sims Resource - Ninko Blush

Lipstick: The Sims Resource - Ninko Lipstick

Top: The Sims Resource - Turtleneck Blouse Set DO0347

Skirt: The Sims Resource - Sequined Slit Maxi Skirt Set DO0348

Outfit 5:

Hair: SONYASIMS - ARENA HAIR - The Sims 4 Create a Sim - CurseForge

Eyeshadow: The Sims Resource - Prom - Amelie Eyeshadow

Blush: The Sims Resource - Prom - Amelie Blush

Lipstick: The Sims Resource - Prom - Amelie Lipstick

Necklace: The Sims Resource - Paislee Crystal Pendant Prom Necklace

Nails: The Sims Resource - (Prom) Prom Nails

Dress: The Sims Resource - Valencia Dress

Outfit 6:

Hair: The Sims Resource - Mirabel Hair

Eyeshadow: The Sims Resource - PROM Lily Eyeshadow

Lipstick: The Sims Resource - PROM Lily Lipstick

Top: Dark academia top 1 - The Sims 4 Create a Sim - CurseForge

Shorts: The Sims Resource - WOMEN'S RIPPED DENIM SHORTS

[unclejezzzy]

The Sweetest Torture One Could Bear | Part 1 of I Despise My Rotten Mind (And How Much It Worships You)

It’s 1990. Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are forced to confront their shared past and shifting dynamics under the ever changing hues of a gay club in Indianapolis. Eddie, exuding confidence and embracing his sexuality offers a helping hand to Steve who is buckling under the weight of societal pressures.

OR: Steve wants to sleep with a guy for the first time and Eddie reluctantly helps against his better judgement.

Indianapolis, 1990

Eddie leant back on his elbows against the metal topped bar of the club, eyes squinting as he delicately held the rim of his glass between his fingers.

It was a Saturday night which meant that it was nothing short of a a visual feast for the senses.

The music pulsated through his body, situating itself in his spine as he squinted out at the vast expanse of potential conquests through the smoky haze.

The multi-colored lights above bathed the adumbrate dancers in an ever-changing rainbow of hues. The walls were adorned with mirrors, reflecting the dancers and amplifying the feeling of being part of something larger than oneself. Giant video screens played music videos and club scene footage, immersing them all in a world of pure hedonism.

Of course, Eddie couldn't deny that a majority of the time the clientele were just as visually stunning as their surroundings. Dancing bodies adorned in leather, lace, and sequins were all in abundance, as per usual.

But something was different. He didn't have the usual feeling that anything was possible in there tonight.

Something was missing.

"What about that guy?" Robin asked; voice elevated so it could carry over the bass of the music as she leaned across from behind the bar on her tiptoes to point out across the room to a guy with spiky blonde hair in a tank top.

“Nah - had him already. He's boring." Eddie said cavalierly.

"Boring?" She reiterated, busying herself with wiping the rims of highball glasses with a dish towel.

"He sucked dick like he was working a nine to five." He scoffed a laugh, taking a sip of his drink.

"Okay, fine." She shrugged, neck craned as she scoured their surroundings.

"Him?"

"Nah - too - muscly." Eddie grimaced, immediately glancing away without wasting a second.

"I thought you liked that?" She asked, looking up at him beneath furrowed brows.

"I like 'em toned, like a subtle 'yeah I work out but it's not my entire personality.' I don't want someone who looks like they're the face for sports steroids advertisements." Eddie said firmly.

"God you're so picky, you're looking for a hook up not a husband." Robin clarified, rolling her eyes.

"There's just nobody new and exciting. It's the same faces, same music, same routine. It's exhausting." He said, staring out ahead of him as he kissed his lips between his teeth.

"Yeah, I forgot that getting your dick sucked could be so tedious." She said in jest as Eddie chose not to respond.

"You know, maybe you're just not as into it as you used to be. That's fine, you know. To grow up and get a life outside of hooking up with people. Maybe settle down, get a boyfriend or something."

Eddie narrowed his eyes, pretending to be in deep pensive thought.

"Nah, that doesn't sound like something I'd do." He eventually said, lips breaking out into a devilish grin as Robin glared across at him.

He allowed his eyes to glaze back over the crowds of people.

His vision fixated on a lone guy with lightly tousled brown hair leaning against the metal bars of the balcony, facing away from him. It was long, layered. Purposely messy? Eddie couldn't decide. But he loved how it curled around his neck from the length.

He was wearing camel coloured chinos and a navy blue T-shirt. Fingers tapping against his crossed arms as he continued to look out at the vastness ahead of him.

Two go-go boys dressed in nothing but tight fitting, metallic shorts and pairs of cheap angel wings that were most likely bought from a Spirit Halloween store were either side of him.

They were elevated from the floor, encased in metal caging with dollar bills hanging limp from their waistbands.

It was an ethereal sight given the circumstances. If he believed in that kind of la-di-da butterfly effect bullshit he would have assumed that the universe had placed him in his line of sight for a reason.

Eddie's eyes scanned the length of his body.

He couldn't help but admire the curvature of his ass; how it was packed so tightly into the material it almost made them look as though they were painted on with the way they hugged his hips and thighs.

"Him." He said firmly, not breaking his gaze.

"What?" Robin asked.

"Him, over there." Eddie said, clicking his fingers with an outstretched arm to draw her in to his line of sight.

"The guy in the chinos?"

"Yeah. I want him."

"You haven't even seen his face yet." She warranted.

"Don't need to. He's got an ass that goes for miles. He could be the ugliest fucker in the world for all I care. I'll just go behind, don't have to look at him." He clarified, biting down against the flesh of his lower lip.

"Here I was thinking you were shallow." She shot back, voice tainted with sarcasm as she slung the dish towel over her shoulder.

"I'm going over." He affirmed - voice low as he downed the remainder of his drink, reaching around to place the empty glass behind himself on the bar.

"Okay, have fun. Be good." Robin called out after him as he brushed down the front of his black tee.

"Never. Don't miss me too much." He shot back, teasingly as he ran his fingers through his bangs to ensure they were placed in the perfect divide between careless and purposeful.

The thing with Eddie is that he didn't get rejected. In fact, he couldn't even recall the last time he got rejected.

He read an article that stated that statistically speaking, men think about sex on average around 19 times a day. This was one of those times that Eddie was happy to be branded as above average.

Of course, these statistics were based solely on straight men. Go figure.

When Eddie wasn't having sex, he was thinking about having sex. And the second he was finished having sex with the most beautiful man who ever lived, he was thinking about the next beautiful man who ever lived that he'd meet the next night.

And luckily for this guy, he was right on his radar.

He sauntered through the throngs of people, skin prickling in anticipation as he approached him. It was almost exhilarating, reaching the apex of a desired conquest.

"Hey, had a busy night?" Eddie asked, slinking an arm around the guys waist as he whipped round to face him.

He had hoped his gaze would be met with the same inquisitive eagerness. Instead, he was met with brown forlorn eyes and furrowed brows with a sinister familiarity to them.

The chiselled jawline, the mole on the side of his neck beneath the stubble, the irate demeanour.

"Jesus fucking Christ." Eddie announced, retracting his hand with the same speed you would if you caught it on the side of a hot teakettle.

"Oh God." The other breathed out, eyes darting maniacally across his face as Eddie watched the muscles of his neck contract with a deep swallow.

"Steve?" Eddie asked, biting back a laugh as his jaw slacked in awe.

"No." He said hastily, shaking his head as he darted around at his surroundings for a quick escape.

"Oh my God, it is you. Steve Harrington. From Hawkins High." Eddie pressed as he watched him back away, hand gripping the metal of the balcony for stability.

King Steve. Hawkins High maverick, belligerent basketball captain, disciples at his heels. He sounded like a cliche.

He was a cliche.

The man was a planet who carried his own gravity.

Continue reading on AO3:

[lamaisongaga]

FASHION CREDITS: LADY GAGA BY ETHAN JAMES GREEN FOR VOGUE US OCTOBER ISSUE

I was highly expecting for Lady Gaga to land a Vogue cover and here we are, covering the October issue of the American Vogue. The photoshoot, which is highly inspired by her role as Harley Quinn in "Joker: Folie à Deux", was lensed by Ethan James Green.

Styling: Alex Harrington, makeup: Sarah Tanno-Stewart, hair: Frederic Aspiras, nails: Kim Truong using Glitterbels, tailors: Hailey Desjardins and Egle Paulauskaite, set design: Marla Weinhoff.

Photographed during her stay in Paris in July this year, the cover photo showcases Gaga in the blue embroidered trompe-l’œil synthetic hair coat made in collaboration with hairstylist Gary Gill from Balenciaga‘s 53rd Fall/Winter 2024 Haute Couture collection!

An iconic silhouette by now, Gaga rocks a pair of her favorite Marc Jacobs Fall/Winter 2016 Kiki buckled black leather platform boots!

The mixture of couture, high-end designers and emerging talent is immense in this editorial as Gaga wears a grunge-inspired Hodakova Fall/Winter 2024 argyle knit sweater in this hauntingl beautiful shot.

Hyperventilating is an UNDERSTATEMENT. I fell in love the moment John Galliano sent out his girls down the dramatic runway and ever since I was hoping to catch Gaga in one of the designs. Never would‘ve thought she‘d even get a whole custom look!

Gaga poses in custom Maison Margiela Spring/Summer 2024 Artisanal Haute Couture.

White cotton caisetted cape cut with the memory of an ulster coat, worn over a patinaed knitted silk bodysuit matching Gaga’s skin tone underpinned by a corset covered in jersey and a silicone hip prothèse.

A taped reverse swatching hat in white foam and caisetted cotton, patinaed knitted silk stockings and gloves, and custom Christian Louboutin for Margiela white patent leather criss-cross platform pumps with torn stocking overlay.

One thing you should know about Gaga is that she loves to layer multiple runway pieces to merge a whole new look.

From Dior‘s Resort 2025 collection, a love letter to Scotland, she wore a knitted argyle sweater with cut-outs, a tartan wool maxi dress which she layered underneath a mesh and metallic lace dress, and some argyle socks.

The Hodakova sweater makes a return, this time accessorized with an antique hand-painted plaque, ruby and diamond in 18kt gold brooch, and a smoky quartz and pearl in 18k gold brooch, both from Tony Duquette!

A shoe that changed herstory. Vivienne Westwood‘s infamous Fall/Winter 1993 Super Elevated Gillie platform shoes make a return, acquired from Pechuga Vintage. You might remember Gaga wearing a boot version of these for her 2010 Elle spread!

A firework of excitement ransacked my body when I first found out that Alessandro Michele would depart from Gucci to head over to Valentino as the new creative director.

LG is, to my knowledge, the first celebrity to rock a piece from the Resort 2025 "Avant Les Debuts" (Before the Beginning) collection – a pale yellow chiffon mini dress with high collar, tiered ruffle puff sleeves and floral sequin embroidery all over!

Paired with custom Maison Margiela distressed stockings and custom Christian Louboutin platform heels.

Gaga is working it in a bi-colored statuesque coat seen on Yohji Yamamoto‘s Fall/Winter 2024 "A Seamless Parable on Cubism" runway.

Rather than canvas and paint, Yamamoto’s medium is fabric and more than ever, it felt like he let his instinctual side take the wheel. Case in point: He said he couldn’t talk about how he’d arrived at these silhouettes. "During fittings, I can change, I can touch", he said with finality.

The look was crowned with a custom Vivienne Bow hat made of voluminous moiré fabric by emerging designer Andrew James!

One of the "Antwerp Six" designers, Dries Van Noten bid farewell earlier this Summer and decided to leave the fashion scene with a bang by celebrating his legacy at his final Spring/Summer 2025 collection where this epic embroidered cashmere coat is from.

Both her plaque-embellished black beanie...

...and double-breasted boxy oversized coat with peaked lapel are from The Row's Resort 2025 lookbook!

Gaga is the first ever person to wear this vintage Givenchy by Alexander McQueen Fall/Winter 1999 "Execution of Lady Jane Grey" Haute Couture chinoiserie embroidered silk balloon sleeve coat and bespoke black dress, both sourced from LILY et Cie.

In 1999, McQueen was going through, in his own words, "an emotional turmoil" both professionally and personally. But instead of relieving himself, he ventured into his own despair to understand his inner demons more poignantly. This painful journey led Lee to Paul Delaroche’s tragic but beautiful 1833 painting, "The Execution of Lady Jane Grey".

Like a painter to a blank canvas, McQueen filled an empty room with extravagant offerings: romantic silk ensembles with floral embroidery, 16th-century fur-trimmed tunics, luxurious velvet coats, as well as the designer’s signature leather suits, cowl-neck dresses, and even a heightened-for-couture bouffant piece that paid homage to his plaid.

Dialing in on his inspiration, McQueen presented his clothes not on models but on fiber-glass-headed mannequins that emerged from trap doors in batches, as if the audience were in an art gallery rather than a fashion show.

It's almost unrecognizable but Gaga is draping this Chanel Fall/Winter 2024 Haute Couture black silk taffeta opera coat around her torso. This piece, which served as the show's opening number, features a ruffled neck, bejeweled buttons and a voluminous cut.

[weer02]

Here's some of Max's outfits in chapters of my fic "Ambivalence":

I haven't drawn in ages (in 2 years to be exact) and kinda gave up on it, but lately as I saw so many amazing artworks here, I got inspired to draw something myself!

Fanfic outfits seemed like a perfect warm-up,  I chose Max first cause she's ✨the main character✨, but what she was wearing was described the most (I also added her outfit from chap20 which I'm working on rn).

I forgot how much fun drawing was... and I might do more of this.

Here's single pics for more detail:

and fanfic excerpts describing the outfits if anyone cares:

CHAPTER 4: "[...]She pulled on a long-sleeved shirt with a geometric deer print and a warmer, dark grey hoodie on top of it. She went ahead with her plan and started to dress up in more layers. She ran her hands through her hair, and gave up on doing makeup, even though she knew how awful she looked after taking a look in the mirror, her dark circles under eyes even more prominent these days." CHAPTER 7: " As they were slowly pacing through the junkyard, Max could feel the icy, November wind. She was wearing all black today, black jeans, boots that she found deep in her closet, and a black coat borrowed from Chloe"

CHAPTER 15: "[...]She dressed up — her outfit was a white buttoned up shirt with a navy-blue skirt that went down to her knee. She looked down at herself and was so uncomfortable, it all felt too tight and too formal for her, reminded her of some kind school uniform she would hate to wear. She also took the oversized black coat borrowed from Chloe, just to have something over the top and not feel cold. [...] she couldn't bear looking at herself, she looked awful. Dark circles under her eyes from chronic lack of sleep, her bangs covering her eyes and hair overgrown to the point it almost reached her shoulders.[...]"

CHAPTER 18: "(the dress) was pale pink, reached below her knee, and didn't have any leg slits. It had short sleeves, because she didn't want showed off shoulders, and was plain, because she didn't want to draw much attention with lots of fabric and sparkly sequins. [...] She also had shoes of a matching color with a two inch heel, as anything higher than that she had tried on made her trip within the first step. She wore a thin silver chain necklace and a flower corsage on her wrist. [...] she took a look in the mirror and almost didn't recognize herself in the layers of makeup she had on her face. She never tried to do it before, because she was too self conscious about heavier makeup, and by heavier she meant what she had on right now, smoky eye shadow and a dusty pink lipstick."

"[...]She smiled at the thought, catching a glimpse of her expression it in the mirror. She realized she was wearing the same white shirt she had worn at the trial, but it didn't make her uncomfortable anymore, she paired it with black jeans and it surely felt more like her." CHAPTER 20: "November had already started and temperatures began to decrease, so Max pulled out a beige knitted sweater from her wardrobe, one she found in the boxes of things she didn't take to dorms. She wore it under her recently thrifted, oversized brown hoodie, and paired it with the usual blue jeans. She changed the black converse into a pair of brown boots to not get drenched in the puddles of rain."

[lancely-blog]

Jewels Leclair, Private Investigator—An excerpt from upcoming novel Curtains for Astrid.

All text copyrighted ©️ 2024 by Lancer Gareth Bailey

The Golden Lantern was alive with energy, a place where the past and present mingled as seamlessly as the generations of patrons who had passed through its doors. Established in 1964, this was one of the oldest gay bars in New Orleans, its legacy entwined with the vibrant culture of the city.

Outside, the Golden Lantern's facade carried the weight of decades of stories, its weathered bricks and faded paint speaking to its storied history. The neon sign flickered in soft pinks and blues, casting a nostalgic glow onto the sidewalk. Above the door, the marquee proudly read ‘Jewels & the Fondlers’ in bold, vintage lettering, illuminated by small, twinkling bulbs that lined the edges. The windows, tinted from years of sun and wear, revealed just enough of the dimly lit interior to tease the atmosphere within.

The narrow entryway was adorned with flyers promoting past and future shows, their corners peeling slightly from the humidity, each flyer a reminder of the bar’s enduring presence in the heart of the city. A faint hum of music spilled into the street as the door opened, inviting curious onlookers into the lively, sultry world that awaited them inside.

Across the entrance, string lights hung loosely, their warm glow mingling with the neon, creating a welcoming ambiance. Beneath them, clusters of patrons, some in small groups and others lingering alone, smoked cigarettes or sipped from plastic cups, their conversations blending into the rich New Orleans night air.

The bar’s walls were plastered with vintage posters and photographs, capturing moments of Southern Decadence festivals from years gone by. The dim lighting cast a warm, amber glow over the room, reflecting off the polished wooden surfaces and the rows of bottles that lined the bar, each one a silent witness to countless stories told in hushed tones and raucous laughter.

Jewels Leclair was the star of the evening, as she always was on Thursday nights. She stood on the small stage, her elaborate costume catching the light, the sequins shimmering with every movement. Tonight, she had chosen a look inspired by the roaring ’20s, a time when jazz ruled the streets of New Orleans.

Her dress was a cascade of deep emerald green, fringed with black feathers that danced with her as she moved. A flapper headband adorned with a single black plume rested atop her carefully styled curls, and her makeup was as bold as her performance—dark, smoky eyes, and a deep red lip that could stop traffic.

She belted out the final notes of her last number, her voice powerful and filled with emotion, reverberating through the room as the audience erupted into applause. Jewels' finale was a sultry rendition of "La Vie en Rose," a timeless classic that perfectly encapsulated the spirit of old-world glamour she loved to channel. Her voice, rich and velvety, filled the room with a haunting beauty, each note dripping with emotion. As she sang, she moved slowly and gracefully, her eyes half-closed as if lost in the romantic nostalgia of the song. The audience was entranced, caught in the spell Jewels cast with her performance, hanging on every word as she poured her heart into the final, lingering notes.

The song ended with Jewels holding a single red rose, which she tossed into the crowd with a dramatic flourish, leaving the audience in rapturous applause as the curtain fell. Jewels knew how to work a crowd, and tonight was no exception. She stepped to the edge of the stage, microphone in hand, and addressed her audience with a playful smirk.

“Now, darlings, don’t you think it’s about time someone bought this queen a drink?” Her voice was a blend of sultry and sweet, with a hint of mischief that made the crowd roar with laughter and cheers. She scanned the faces in the room, catching the eye of a few regulars who smiled back at her, their admiration evident.

Jewels continued to banter with the crowd, throwing out witty remarks and charming her way through the last moments of the show. She could feel the love in the room, the acceptance that had eluded Julian Leclair in his day-to-day life but was abundant here, within the safe haven of The Golden Lantern. This was her domain, a world where Jewels reigned supreme, and every cheer, every whistle, was a reminder of the power she held on this stage.

As the show came to a close, Jewels blew a final kiss to the audience before disappearing backstage. The curtain fell, the lights dimmed, and the buzz of conversation filled the room once more as the patrons returned to their drinks, already reminiscing about the night’s performance.

After the show, Jewels took her time backstage, carefully touching up her makeup in the dim, flickering light of the dressing room. The hot stage lights always left a fine sheen of sweat on her brow, smudging the perfect lines of her eyeliner and softening the edges of her lipstick. She wiped away the small imperfections with practiced hands, reapplying powder and adding a fresh coat of her signature deep red lipstick.

Satisfied with her appearance, Jewels took a deep breath and prepared to re-enter the bar. The familiar din of clinking glasses, overlapping conversations, and distant strains of jazz music greeted her as she stepped back into the Golden Lantern. The bar was packed as always, the crowd buzzing with the energy that lingered after her performance. She made her way through the throng of people, offering a smile here, a wink there, until she reached her usual spot at the bar.

Jewels slid onto her designated stool, a well-worn seat that had molded itself to her over the years. Beside her, a row of older regulars sat nursing their drinks, their faces creased with time and experience, the lines of their lives etched deeply into their skin.

"How’s it going, Bob?" she asked, turning to the man beside her. Bob was a fixture at the Golden Lantern, a retired cop with a fondness for bourbon and a dry wit to match. His graying hair was slicked back, and his piercing blue eyes still held a sharpness that belied his age.

Bob looked over, a slow smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Evening, Jewels. You were something else up there tonight. Almost forgot I’m too old to fall in love again."

Jewels laughed, a throaty sound that was equal parts charm and irony. "Flattery will get you everywhere, darling. Anything exciting happened while I was on stage? Got any crimes that need solving?"

Bob shook his head, taking a sip of his drink. "Not much going on in our sleepy city lately. Though with the way this place fills up every night, you’d think the whole town was one big party."

Jewels sighed, swirling her drink in hand. "The private investigation business has been slow lately. Guess the criminals are taking a vacation. My cabaret singer side hustle is fun, but it isn't paying the bills."

Bob chuckled, his gaze softening as he looked at Jewels. "It's disgraceful, what they did to you down at Headquarters—forcing you out like that. Well, if anything does come up, you’ll be the first to know. Hell, you’re better than half the detectives still on the force. They don’t make 'em like you anymore."

Jewels smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Thanks, Bob. I’ll drink to that."

She raised her glass, clinking it against his, and took a long, deliberate sip. The whiskey was smooth, warming her from the inside out, but it didn’t chase away the lingering worry that had settled deep in her bones.

Back within the solitude of her Bywater apartment, the transformation began to reverse. Jewels shed her feathers and sequins, each piece of her costume carefully removed and hung with the reverence of a ritual. The flapper headband was the last to go, revealing Julian Leclair’s short, tousled hair beneath. With a final glance in the mirror, Jewels disappeared, leaving Julian to take her place.

Julian’s apartment was a far cry from the glitter and glamour of The Golden Lantern. The walls were a dull, faded beige, the paint peeling in places, revealing the years of neglect. The furniture was sparse and worn, a battered couch that had seen better days, a coffee table littered with empty glasses, cigarette butts, and a stack of unpaid bills. The only light in the room came from a single lamp on the end table, casting a dim, yellowish hue that barely reached the corners of the small space.

Julian sat at the edge of the couch, a glass of whiskey on the rocks in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. The makeup removal process was slow and methodical, each swipe of the cotton pad revealing more of the man beneath the mask. He stared into the small mirror propped up on the table, watching as Jewels faded away with every passing second. The ritual was both a release and a reminder—a release from the persona he had created and a reminder of the reality he could never fully escape.

The stack of unpaid bills loomed on the edge of the table, some of them stamped with bold red warnings of service cancellations. Julian glanced at them briefly, the weight of their presence heavy on his mind, but he pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the task at hand. He took a long drag from the cigarette, the smoke curling upwards in delicate tendrils, disappearing into the dimness of the room. The whiskey burned as it went down, a comforting warmth that settled deep in his chest.

With Jewels now fully removed, Julian stood and made his way to the small closet in the corner of the room. He pulled out a set of satin chiffon pajamas, the fabric soft and delicate in his hands, a stark contrast to the harsh reality of his surroundings. Slipping into the luxurious pajamas, he felt a small measure of comfort, a momentary escape from the world outside.

Julian returned to the couch, his body heavy with exhaustion, and collapsed onto the worn cushions. The half-finished cocktail sat on the table next to him, the ice long since melted. He closed his eyes, the cigarette still smoldering in the ashtray, and within moments, he was asleep, the weight of the world temporarily lifted as he drifted into a restless slumber.

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains, casting pale light across the room. Julian stirred on the couch, groggy and disoriented. The phone’s shrill ring pierced through the fog of sleep, pulling him back to reality. He fumbled for the receiver, his voice rough and thick with sleep as he answered.

“Hello,” he said with a tinge of apprehension.

The voice on the other end of the line was soft, solemn, with a hint of resignation. A woman spoke, her tone carrying an edge of nervousness. “Good morning. I hope I have the correct number. I’m trying to reach the office of Detective Julian Leclair.”

“This is Julian Leclair,” he replied, a sudden wave of anxiety jolting him upright. His muscles tensed, nerves prickling. “Are you a debt collector?”

There was a brief pause, as if his question had taken her by surprise. “No, quite the opposite. Mr. Leclair, I’m calling in the hope of engaging your services for an investigation.”

“I see,” Julian said, choosing his words carefully. “But before we go further, you should know I’m no longer Detective Leclair. I was let go from the New Orleans Police Department over a year ago. Now, I’m a licensed private investigator.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” she responded, her voice tinged with empathy. “And I apologize for using your former title. I know about your recent setbacks, but that’s precisely why I’m calling. If you’re available, I’d like to hire you.”

“There’s one more thing that you should be aware of upfront,” Julian added, his tone firm. “I now go by the name Jewels Leclair professionally.”

There was a brief pause before the woman spoke again. “I see. In that case, I would like to hire Ms. Jewels Leclair to find out who murdered my daughter.”

Julian felt his breath catch in his throat, the weight of her words sinking in like a stone. “Your daughter?” he repeated, his voice quieter now, the initial nervousness replaced by a sharp, professional focus. “I’m… I’m sorry for your loss. Can you tell me her name and what happened?”

The woman hesitated, as if gathering the strength to continue. “Her name was Astrid St. Croix. She was murdered seven years ago. The case remains unsolved, and the police have long since moved on. It’s a cold case, but I can’t let it rest. I need someone who can look at it with fresh eyes, someone who isn’t afraid to dig where others won’t.”

Julian felt a surge of determination rising within him, the gravity of the situation sharpening his focus. “I understand. I’ll do everything in my power to help you. Let’s meet in person to go over the details. When and where would be convenient for you?”

There was a moment of silence on the line, the weight of the conversation hanging between them. Finally, the woman spoke, her voice filled with quiet resolve. "Thank you, Ms. Leclair. I can meet you at the Royal Café on Chartres Street, say around ten tomorrow morning?"

"That works for me," Julian replied, making a mental note of the time and place. "I’ll be there."

"Thank you," she said again, her voice softening. "I know it’s been a long time, but I have a feeling you're the only one who can help me find the truth."

Julian nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. "I’ll do my best, Mrs. St. Croix. I’ll see you tomorrow."

As he hung up the phone, Julian sat back, the details of the conversation replaying in his mind. The name Astrid St. Croix seemed familiar, and the gravity of a cold case, especially one involving the murder of a young woman, was enough to stir something deep within him. He glanced around his dreary apartment, the stack of unpaid bills on the table a stark reminder of his own troubles. But for now, those concerns could wait. There was work to be done.

He took a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling upward in lazy spirals, and then exhaled slowly. Tomorrow, he would step back into the role that had forced him to leave his old life behind, but every ending is a new beginning, and this time, this life would be on his terms.

[best2023tosh]

Gemma Chan has very short dark hair. She wears a sequin dress. Very fit. Very busty. Smoky eyes. Large lips. Very Dark lips. Hoop earrings. Standing at a formal dance.

Perchance text to image.

[tigerballoons]

The declining sun was ripe and warm. Hips and haws shone like polished beads in the hedgerows; the damp mats of fallen leaves had a smoky, rusty smell. There was a bridle-path running between brambles, and a stile he had taught himself to manage, the secret being to start facing backwards and swing the stiff leg by hand. It was all right when no one was about.

The blackberries couldn't have been picked over for at least a week. They tasted of frost and faint sun and smoke and purple leaves: sweet, childish and sad. Soon came the wood, with light edges of coppice, full of birds, and birches beyond; the golden leaves shook like sequins against the sky. Presently the path opened into a field of stooked barley. Along its border he found his old place, a smooth bank running up to a big elm. He lowered himself down, carefully. It had been a long pull up and the knee had hurt him, but it was worth it.

[fruitchouli]

wearing miss ap like why does it smell so good.. it’s really just a tweaked version of the discontinued l’agent which was originally a bespoke fragrance made for miss helena bonham carter.. but i prefer miss ap 🫢it’s more luxe and indulgent and sumptuous it gave up all of the hard edges of l’agent and became a buxom modernization of some old school complex gooey resin thing all working around a beautiful rose.. a lounge singer in a red sequins gown in a dark smoky club.. it’s like isabella rossellini singing blue velvet except this is red velvet…and lots of rubies..sweet and dreamy and hazy and smells way more expensive than it is..

[katedrakeohd]

It's Party Time...

... at the 2023 MC Summer Mixer. Presented by @choicesmcmadness

The Duke & Duchess of Valtoria, Drake and (MC)Kate Walker, have been invited to attend..

The Duke and Duchess at last year's event.

What will they be wearing this year? How will they arrive? Who knows?

... Luckily we caught up earlier today via conference call with the dashing Duke and his dazzling Duchess for an interview.

Reporter: Your Grace, Mr. Walker, what will you and the Duchess be wearing this evening?

Drake: Please, just call me Drake. I may be a Duke at home, and I have staff that cater to me here, but deep down I'm no more special than anyone else.

Reporter: As you wish, Mr. - ... Sorry. So Drake, do you and the Duchess have stylists that pick out your clothing for parties and events? Or do you dress yourselves?

Drake: I try to pick out my own things to wear, usually. And if I had my way I wouldn't wear anything fancier than a clean pair of jeans and a button down cotton shirt over a t-shirt. But that doesn't usually cut it for fancier parties. According to Kate anyway...I trust her to picks things out for me.

Kate: If I'm dressing up for something special, I want us both to make an effort to look good together. I know what looks good on you, Drake. We wouldn't want some sharply dressed Earl, Duke, Lord or King thinking I was single and whisking me off onto the dancefloor..right?

Drake: *grumbles, clearing his throat* Definitely, not! Nobody's putting a hand on my wife without permission.

Reporter: Ok, so we've established that Kate likes to dress up her man to his greatest potential. What will you be wearing, Drake?

Drake: Since it pleases her so much. I'll be wearing a suit jacket with matching trousers paired with a white shirt. But no tie, I always feel like I'm being choked when I have to wear a tie.

Reporter: Ok, Duchess Kate. What about you? What do you like to wear to events like these?

Kate: Depending upon how formal the event is, I like to dress in rich jewel tones or black. Something that contours my body, and shows off a little leg. Or a lot of leg if I'm feeling daring. I like fabrics that are pleasing to the touch, like velvet, satin, or silk or a combination of those. I prefer to keep sequins to a minimum, and would rather wear my sparkle in my jewelry or my shoes. A strappy pair of black stiletto heels are my favorite for making a statement, and for my dress tonight I've chosen something in an emerald green.

...

Reporter: Before going out for the evening, do either of you have specific rituals or things you have to do or wear?

Drake: *shrugs* For me usually just a shower and a shave, and maybe a little splash of the cologne that Kate likes. Oh, and my whiskey flask filled up and tucked away in my jacket pocket. If socialising with boring strangers has to happen it's nice to have a nip of liquid courage first.

Kate: I schedule a spa appointment to get a mani-pedi and a wax the day before a party. That way the night of I only have to shower and do my hair and make-up. I love a classic smoky eye and red lip.

Drake: I swear her makeup table thingy has a drawer of red lipstick in every shade imaginable.

Kate: It's called a vanity, Dear. And I have other colours besides red. It's just my favourite.

Reporter: Will you be employing a babysitter for the evening?

Drake: We have a five year old daughter, so yes. It's date night for Mom and Dad. Since the party is so far from home, we'll be bringing an overnight bag too.

Reporter: How will you be arriving at tonight's party?

Drake: As much as I'd love to drive us there myself, we'll be travelling by SUV driven by our security detail. Leaving the duchy and manor for a night out is no longer just a simple thing.

[coffeecat1983]

“All He Deserves” pt 2 Mario bros AU.

(keep in mind I wrote this like, 11 years ago, so waaaay before the movie. Also I’ve always held the headcanon that Luigi is gay, so don’t like it, don’t read it. Pretty simple. CW language, implied sexual content, smoking etc. If you want to know what Trace’s voice is like, look up Double Trouble from She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

    "Trace? I'm home!" Luigi called out as he closed the door, making sure to lock it.     "Hey sugar, in the kitchen!" Trace's smoky voice came from beyond the alcove. After hanging up his coat and slipping off his boots, Luigi followed the smell of Trace's cooking.   The Hammer Bro, or Hammer Sis, as he preferred to be called, was frying up something in a skillet as a pot of lemon sauce bubbled on the back burner. Trace was about 42 years old and dressed in female clothing when out of his shell, which was often when around home. Today he had on a hot pink silk tank top and white shorts with silver glitter around the waist and hems. Oversized pearl earrings that were yellowed with age peered out from the dark brown locks that hung down to his shoulders. One of many wigs he owned. Pink fuzzy slippers covered his feet. He swayed and hummed to the tune that crackled over the cheap radio. Luigi grabbed a can of pop from the fridge and popping it open, chugged it down.     "Were you safe?" When Trace asked were you safe, Luigi had long ago learned he meant three things. 'Did they hurt you?', 'Did they follow the contract' and most importantly, 'Do I need to kill anyone?'     "I was safe." he replied, coming over. Trace kissed his cheek, leaving a red smear of lipstick.     "That's my sugar. Now, grab some plates, this is almost ready." Luigi's thoughts began drifting as he set the table...   It was raining and near freezing. Luigi, desperate for food and sick with fever, was searching through a dumpster behind a little diner. He had had a little luck here the previous night and found some scraps. Now it looked like he would go hungry tonight. He had searched for coins but most had been taken by Troopas when they built the new buildings. He had also tried Wario's castle, but it was a disaster site. The windows were smashed out, and no sign of his cousins or the treasure Wario had worked so hard to collect remained. He hoped to find something amongst the rubble to sell, but it had all been looted or destroyed. Now he was here, digging around as best he could in the dim orange light of the flickering streetlamp. His clothing was torn and stained with mud and dried blood, his hair was plastered down from the rain. His cap had been lost when he fled from the battle.   There was a cough and he jerked, falling to the ground.  A dark figure walked towards him as he shrank up against the dumpster, sniffling as he tried to hide in its shadow. There was the faint glow of a lit cigarette and it bobbed as the figure knelt next to him.     "Oh sugar, what happened to you? You look like death." The voice was kind. The first kind voice he had heard in a long time. He let out a soft sob. Trace slid off his coat and kneeling, wrapped it around Luigi's trembling body. "There now, you're gonna freeze out here. When's the last time you had a good meal?"     "D-Don't 'member." Luigi looked up at the Hammer Bro. He was wearing red lipstick, and a silver sequin dress with black heels. A black pixie cut wig with silver hairband covered his head. The Hammer Bro smiled at him. "Well c'mon then. Lets get you into some warm blankets and I'll fix you a hot meal."     "I-I c-can't pay you." Luigi mumbled tearfully as he helped him up. The Hammer Bro looked him up and down.     "Oh, I think you got a way to pay me, sugar, but we'll work that out later. By the way, my name's Trace."   The next thing he remembered was waking in a soft bed. His eyesight was blurred but he could make out he had been bathed and dressed in warm, clean nightclothes. Trying to sit up, Trace gently pushed him back down.     "Shhh, just rest, sugar. You've been through hell." Something cool met his lips and he drank the bittersweet liquid from the bottle. He recognized the taste of the mushroom potion, followed by a drink of cold water. He grew eager at the water and tried to gulp it down but Trace pulled it away.      "Ah, easy, don't want to get sick."

  After he had recovered, Trace had given him the upstairs of the old two-story house, which had been converted into an apartment of sorts. It was a roomy bedroom complete with bathroom and small kitchen, but Luigi often took meals downstairs with Trace. The Hammer Bro had nursed him back to health and offered him the chance to work as his only employee with Trace as his first client and his teacher. That first time, Luigi drew his legs up against his chest, his eyes wide when Trace suggested they practice.     "I-I've never... I mean I'm..." Trace stroked his cheek.     "It's okay, I've taught many a first timer."   Learning took a while. Trace was strict but gentle. "Don't cry in front of a client, save that for home. You can cry with me or on your own but never in front of a client. Drinking is fine, but not getting drunk. Always keep your head on enough to make sure you get paid. Don't count the payment in front of the client, if they insist you do, tell them to call me."   When Luigi asked, Trace claimed he had picked that name because there was only a 'trace' of what made him male left. Luigi would later tease him saying it was one big trace and that Trace's own clients were lucky. Trace would counter by kissing him and saying he preferred sharing that luck. The two fell into a comfortable relationship with each other. Both understood they had only one thing to offer clients, and when together in the bedroom it felt different than work. More peaceful and fulfilling.   When it came to work, Trace set up the clients, both did the work, and the pay was a decent split between them with a household fund set up for groceries and other items.    Admittedly it was hard at first. Many times, Luigi came home and had stayed in bed, refusing to come out and eat until Trace had made the threat of force feeding him. After a while the praise from clients came in. He was polite, kind, and easy to be with. This led to repeat clients. The pay was good, there was a contract in place, and woe to any clients who failed to follow the rules. Trace was not one to mess with and he had a reputation for enforcing the contract. One way of reinforcing was the large knife he kept on the table when interviewing new clients. There had been one time Luigi had come home with a black eye. After Trace calmed him down, he went out and Luigi found the large steak knife was gone from its usual spot on the kitchen wall. Trace came back around four that morning and Luigi never saw the client again.

    "Sugar?" Luigi blinked, coming out of his thoughts. "Huh?"     "I said 'time to eat'." Trace laughed. "You were in lala land for a minute there." Luigi blushed slightly. "Sorry, guess I'm pretty tired."     "You didn't sleep afterwards?"     "Nah, you know me. I don't want to scare away anyone with those nightmares I have."   Trace hummed and nodded. Luigi was prone to waking up crying or sometimes screaming from nightmares. He had taught himself not to go into a dreaming sleep when with clients. The only time he fell fully asleep was at home. Many times Trace had to wake him with soft words and a soothing touch.     "Well eat up and then how about you go crash for a while?"     "Sounds good." They ate in silence for a while until Luigi spoke.     "So anyone call for a job?"     "Two, but they're on hold." Trace's eyes sparkled. "I'm giving you the week off, sugar." Luigi nearly choked. "W-What?"     "I think you've earned it." Trace said. "You've been working that cute ass off and I'm tired too, so I figure we can take a break." He paused as he took a bite. "Besides, now you can give me a chance at your sweet behind." Luigi burst out laughing and Trace joined in.   After eating and clearing away the dishes, Luigi looked out the kitchen window. "Ugh, still raining." He pulled a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. "Mind if I...?" he motioned towards the back door and Trace nodded. One rule was neither smoked in the house. Luigi could in his room as long as the window was open. Luigi cracked the screen door and lit up, blowing the menthol smoke out into the rain. "I hate this weather." he said softly.     "Bad memories?" Trace said gently.     "Yeah." Luigi grew quiet as he stared out at the grey sky. Trace came over and kissed his cheek again. "You don't let those old thoughts get to you, okay sugar?"     "I won't." Luigi agreed. "Guess I do need a break. Seems like they come up when I'm tired." Trace paused, thinking. "Sugar, I have something for you. Put out that cancer stick and sit down for a minute." Luigi chuckled as he crushed the cigarette and tossed the butt in the garbage. He sat at the table and Trace vanished into the other room. There was a rustling sound and he came back holding a thin, square package wrapped in leftover Christmas paper. He handed it to Luigi, saying "wait a minute, okay?" Luigi felt a little puzzled as Trace pulled the other chair close to him and sat down.     "It took me a while to find this, but I understand if you don't want to keep it." He motioned towards the package with a soft 'go ahead.' Luigi pulled the paper off and gasped softly. A whimper escaped him. Framed in an old wooden frame was a newspaper clipping, a photo of Mario with his arm around Luigi's shoulders. His brother's smiling face was full of joy. Luigi held the frame close to his chest as he began to cry. He had lost all photos of his brother and finding any hint of him after Bowser took over felt impossible.     "H-How?" he whispered.     "I found it in the attic," Trace said. "I was looking through old papers and there it was." Luigi let out a shuddering sob. "Th-Thank you." He murmured something in Italian, holding the picture out to look at it again. Setting it gently on the table, he buried his face in his hands and broke down. Trace put his arm around Luigi before looking at the photo again. "You share his eyes. That's the first thing I noticed about you in that alley, those stunning eyes." Luigi wiped at his tears. "Same as Papa." he sniffled. He turned and hugged Trace tightly. "Thank you so much for this."   Trace pulled back slightly and kissed him. Luigi closed his eyes and returned the kiss as Trace's hands wandered down his back to grope at him. Finally pulling away, Trace took his hands.     "C'mon sugar, you can get some sleep later." Luigi laughed as they went hand in hand to Trace's room.

Life was rough at times, and the past hurt, but sometimes Luigi had to admit it wasn't all bad. Maybe he deserved a little more than he thought.

By “CC”

[femmefatalevibe]

Hi Femme!

I’ve always wanted to be a pageant Queen but never had enough money or the opportunity to (all but one time years ago and dropping out due to my insecurities).

Now that I’m older, I’d love to channel a pageant winner, with fashion, makeup, and the over all essence. Those women are so inspiring and well read. I’d love your tips on how to :)

Thank you!

Hi love!

Sartorially, I would look for gowns in simple silhouettes with lots of intricate and glamourous accents (sequins, beading, feathers, etc.) in bold colors with minimalist two-strap sandal heels (example here) – either in a neutral colorway or a shade that complements the colors on your dress. Pair it with embellished chandelier earrings or statement studs (crystals, pearls, gemstones).

Makeup-wise: A fresh face with a satin-finish foundation, rosy-peach blush, light contour, and shimmering champagne highlight on the tops of the cheekbones, inner corners of your eyes, and below the arch of your brows should do the trick. A brown smoky eye with a thin line of eyeliner and a few generous coats of mascara (even fake lashes), and a rosy or berry lip complete the look.

To embody the overall demeanor, I would say to have a confident posture – shoulders back, head held high, back straight, and chest slightly out, and engage with others with a smile with soft yet direct eye contact. Speak slowly and move intentionally – appear comfortable with yourself and as though your presence/words are invited to take up space in every room you walk into.

Hope this helps xx

[lemonsharks]

An open letter to the trans women of the internet, signed with love, your cister from another mister

Hey trans women

(and you girls who will grow into women)

I just want to tell you

That in every transition glowup post I've seen

I look at your afters and you're happy and beautiful

Holding your shoulders not like you stand beneath the world

But like you stand beneath the night sky looking up

So far removed from any man that the stars themselves

Reflect upon your soft-glossed lips, the sheen of held-back tears

(your joy, your grief)

And I look at your befores

And so, so many of you looked like butch lesbians then (before) (when you thought you looked like boys) (I saw you as women-comrades resisting gender)

Or women who just hadn't figured out that you'd rather be femme yet

Women who gave up giving a fuck about their facial hair (would that I were as brave, as I blondely pluck my age from my chin, my neck, my vanity)

You were always beautiful

The kind of beauty I'd assume knew how to change a tire or what ppe to use with a table saw or the most-fun beginner build in a soulslike game

I see the weight of git gud as it pulls on your purse strap (or messenger bag in an army surplus palette), that digs into the flesh of your shoulder

Inside, beside the weight of plausible deniability

Listen to the whispers of your own whisky voice--babe, sit with us. Lean close for a secret: altos have more fun

You can flash a call for help and fix your liner with the same mirror

So add the compact to your EDC

You won't believe how easily you can bug out with the contents of a sequined clutch

(Your after with the smoky eye,

not the salt-scrubbed smokedark circles underneath,

while crouching on the side of the freeway in jeans that nip in at your waist or cling to your hips, rhinestones hugging on your ass,

as you instruct me to put the jack here and ratchet the car up into the air with my whole bodyweight balanced on the ball of my foot?

A delight and a surprise and welcome, Beautiful, to feeling weird about being underestimated and pride at proving the ones who did so wrong.)

P.s. wear the heels if you want to. You'll slay.

[stackumbrellayamini]

Malika Arora is the Ultimate Fashion Diva of Bollywood, know why?

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With her gorgeous looks and perfect body, Malika Arora has proved that age is just a number. This chaiya chaiya beauty has the boldest and most significant style statement. Her fashion choice is what makes her stand out among all the other Bollywood actresses.

She has always been the inspiration of style and elegance for many upcoming models. Malika Arora has also been part of India’s next top model as a  judge. This bold beauty is never shy to flaunt her beauty with extremely stylish hot fashion choices.

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This 49-year-old Indian actress is still slaying and always amazing her fans. With extreme popularity in the fashion world, here are some of the recent best-worn outfits by Malika Arora. Also, pick these 10 Malika outfits for any occasion.

Malika Arora’s Instagram fashionable post

Malika’s Instagram is truly a fashion junction. Her curvy bodycon gown and slaying outfits are what prove that she is the ultimate fashion diva of Bollywood.

Recently, Malika make people’s heads turn with a stunning Instagram post in a beautiful white gown. The gown was designed by Gaurav Gupta and styled by Maneka Harisinghani. She pulled the outfit with braid and smoky eyes. With some gorgeous poses, Malika truly enhances the beauty of this lovely outfit.

 With showing off her lady boss avatar, Malika picked a classy three-piece white suit. She chose the outfit from Rohit Gandhi and Rahul Khannas’ wardrobe. The sequin silver top was completely enhancing the look of this pantsuit. She completed her look with glowy makeup.

Malla’s fashion choices are always top-notch. In this Instagram post, she wore a beautiful sleeve royal blue slit gown. The outfit was from club London. She chooses to complete her look with a beautiful royal neckpiece from the collection of Sunita Shekhawat.

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Malika Arora looks stylish in Naeem khan’s multi-colored tassel dress. Showing off her funky side, this fashionista poses with a long smile. Malla pulled the look with 2 sets of rings in each hand.

Malika Arora stole the spotlight with Naeem khan’s stunning full sleeved shiny short dress. She flaunted her cleavage boldly which makes the outfit extremely sassy. Malla completes her look with black heels and black stockings. Get to know about three yoga asanas that Malika follows for staying fit.

[muppeteyes1001]

Kitt didn't really have plans on going at first .. Even though she wasn't technically invited. But, after a bit she thought .. what the hell. Things have been quite on her end as of late. Perhaps a nice and rowdy party would help liven her mood up.

With the use of her special pocket watch, the felinoid had arrived just a few feet away from Honey's. She knew that the monstress wouldn't mind a crasher or two, but she still felt a little awkward being here. Dressed in an emerald long sleeved sequin minidress, she can already see the absolute flood of guests of all shapes, sizes and species. She managed to move quite easily through the throngs of moving bodies and made it to a side table with some of the drinks spread out and displayed. If Honey was here, she would have no idea where to even start looking. So, she decided to just hang tight for a bit.

So far, she doesn't really recognize anyone. Maybe a few faces here and there she may have seen in passing. But that was about it. Looking over at the table, her eyes grow curious at the array of drinks of many different colors. Some smoky, some bubbly, and some that seemed to have things floating or swimming within them. Gently taking a light blue cocktail glass, she turns her attention back to the wild festivities.

She's not really use to such a venue, but she's been trying to get better at it bit by bit. Perhaps, she'll be approached by Honey or someone to chat with if any find her interesting enough. In the meantime, she will simply sip from her drink. Which was very nice. Sweet and smooth.

[otherworldlygarments]

$Budget