#spaghetti strap prom dresses

[shoponlinemalls]

[happyprom]

Teach-by-doing Guide to Wear Spaghetti Straps Prom Dresses

Teach-by-doing Guide to Wear Spaghetti Straps Prom Dresses

Finding comfort right style prom dresses for their body type, their skin tone is an ongoing challenge for girls. And once you’ve got the dress, how to wear it confident also a challenge, and that’s acceptable. For every occasion, various styles dress we can see everywhere, spaghetti straps prom dresses have become one of the trendiest dress for prom these year, so we are here to teach by doing…

[lunss-couture]

Cabernet Glitter Tiered Tulle Halter Strap Prom Dress

Glittering cabernet tiered tulle long graduation & prom dress. It features a pleated fitted bodice with halter spaghetti straps leading to an open low back. The tiered skirt falls 

[suziwest-dresscollection]

[sizzleissues]

ok hi so I saw emonette on my dash and when I saw her in fingerless gloves it made me think of those black & pink prom tulle dresses that had spaghetti straps/were strapless from the 2000s/2010s or like an Avril Lavigne type dress with a long torso that has like tool underneath

I agree. I’m lucky that I was a kid during the 2000s so this type of fashion only exists in bad photos and has like a smudge on my memory but honestly. It slays

Is this what you were thinking? She’s my little princess of darkness you guys don’t know how much I love her and I’ve only known her a day

[ballbellas]

Satin Sweetheart Slit Prom Dress Baby Blue Spaghetti Strap

[velvrei]

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED

summary: robby and the reader go to prom and kyler’s after party, what happens when robby misbehaves and annoys the reader?

pairings: robby keene x female!reader

warnings: smut, season 4? handjobs, semi-public sex (except they don't actually have sex), begging, underage drinking, praise kink, pda (kissing in public), degradation, edging, overstimulation, choking

word count: 3k

author’s note: another early morning post<3 hope everyone has an amazing day and i hope you enjoy!

That content smile your father seldomly showed always uplifted you at the greatest times possible. He didn't smile much, however, when he did, it was for a good reason. Today's reason, it was prom night.

You and your father were very close. He was the type of dad to threaten or even hurt anyone who hurt you. And oh, the advantage of having a filthy rich father. He let you pick out your dress, no matter the price, and then not too long after took your date, Robby Keene, out to buy a tux. You insisted that you would go with though, cause you sensed your dad would doubtlessly have that father-daughters-boyfriend talk about how "if you hurt her I'll hurt you", or "you better treat her how she deserves".

Robby treated you like a queen, which is something your dad observed and it something he appreciated.

Robby constantly told you how perfect you were. He knew how to make you feel appreciated, and you constantly made sure he felt appreciated as well. You and Robby were sublime together.

"Daddy? Robby? Can I come down now?!" You yelled yearningly down the stairs. It was time for your big reveal with your new dress, as they did in basically every teen-movie involving some kind of dance. It was finally your turn, and you got to be escorted by the karate star of your dreams. It was the perfect moment.

"Yes, honey, we're ready."

You began your walk down the stairs, holding the railing to make sure you didn't stumble upon yourself. You looked up and saw your dad holding the phone on it's side, recording with his jaw dropped as one would. You looked beautiful. You had great taste.

Your dress was a gorgeous burgundy, with spaghetti width straps as well as a v cut that ended slowly above your breasts, far enough to make them perk up but you pulled it up until you got past your dad. You didn't feel like getting 'questioned' (which was Terry's replacement word for getting screamed at) on prom night.

Your gaze met Keene's and his jaw was dropped. He looked astonishing in his matching tux. His blazer and pants were jet black, as well as his tie and pocket square.

"Y- You look-" Robby was inarticulate, he was unable to speak.

"Beautiful, honey! I'm so glad I let you pick out your dress. You look amazing. Pretty sure Robby agrees, he's speechless!" Terry smiled brightly and you walked down the last step, instantaneously giving him a bear hug.

"Thank you so much daddy, for everything," You let go of your dad not wanting to crush his soul, "Today has been so perfect and I already know we'll have so much fun." His smile grew hearing your appreciation. He loved you so much, all he needed was to make sure his little girl had fun.

"Yes, thank you so much, Mr. Silver. Thank you for the tux, I'll pay you back when I can-"

"Don't worry about that kid, all I ask for is that you two stay safe. Tonight is supposed to be enjoyable, if you get in fights, first you win, then after the dance or whatever after party I'm sure someone will throw come back to tell me. I will handle it if it needs to be handled afterwards." Hearing those words made you feel safe.

"Of course, if something goes on that doesn't involve us we will disregard the entire situation." Robby looked Terry straight in the eye, but it wasn't a challenging stare per say, more of a 'I've got your back' look.

"Okay! Let me get some pictures and then you two should be on your way!" Terry spoke, searching around for one of his butlers to take a photo of the three of them.

"Ophelia, could you come here and take a picture for me and my two favorite teens, please?" He shouted, and Ophelia came running. She was always your favorite, she was adorable. Brown hair, ocean blue eyes, which was exceptionally rare for her darker skin tone.

"Of course, Mr. Silver." Her voice was always incredibly calming.

Your father's scoff turned into a laugh, "Remember, love, you can call me Terry. I get you work for me and you feel the need to but I really prefer Terry no matter who it is."

Your dad smiled sweetly toward Ophelia, and she smiled back gratefully, ready to take the picture on Terry's phone as he wrapped his arms around the both of you, standing in the middle. 'If he stood on the side it would've looked awkward', was probably something he would say later on.

The picture was taken, along with a few selfies taken by Terry and his long armed, substantial tall figure. Terry escorted the two of you into his lamborghini veneno that he gave you for the night.

Then, you were off to live the night of your dreams.

彡

You arrived to prom in style, you and Robby's whole goal was to make everyone turn their heads and cluelessly wonder how the former criminal bagged Samantha LaRusso's ex-buddy and Yasmine and Moon's current bestie. Sam used to be your friend, but she had messed up way to many times.

Robby quickly jogged to the passenger seat, almost tripping on the cement but he ceased himself and opened your door successfully.

"M'lady," He said, bowing with one hand behind his back then quickly reaching out and helping you out do the car.

"Thank you, kind sir." The playful banter didn't last very long, and no surprise you were the won to end it, "I swear to the devil if these heels ache my feet one more time I will fucking throw them at literally anyone's stupid face-"

Robby shushed you, his finger hovering your sultry lips. It smelled of cologne. How much cologne did he put on that day?

"It's okay, just let me know if it continues so I can sweep you off your feet." He said with a cunning smirk.

You were in for a tedious night of cheesy pick-up lines.

As you walked up to the door, thundering music filled your ears, the smell of school and alcohol filling your nose, which is something you should've expected but didn't in the slightest.

"Okay, if we see Sam or even Miguel, just look for like 2 seconds and look away, let's give them the act that we don't give a fuck. Cause we don't," His arm linked with yours, "Am I correct, Lady Silver?"

"You sure are, Sir Keene."

You slightly pushed passed the coral curtain, your steps in sync as you felt your chest become moderately warm. You both looked to the left of you, seeing Samantha and Miguel together at one of the many punched bowls that were spiked.

As soon as you even felt them notice, you looked away, and straight ahead, your eyes pausing on Moon and Yasmine.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," You heard Sam murmur, you could tell the frustration in her voice even if it was just a careless whisper.

Speaking of careless whispers, you heard the song by George Michael begin playing. You looked Robby directly in the eye and he knew exactly what you wanted. He was ready to go mingle with Kyler and Piper as you did so.

He gave you the gaze of approval, even thought you technically didn't need his permission. You kissed his cheek and ran off with Moon and Yasmine to sing your heart outs as if you were just broken up with and still in love with your former partner. But none of you were actually.

After you sung noisily with your closest friends, not even somewhat embarrassed of how heartbroken you may've sounded, and intensely danced with Robby to LES by Childish Gambino.

"Hey love, I heard our old teacher buddy Stingray is throwing an after party at his place," His eyes met yours and his right hand that was covered in rings found a place in your waist, "Wanna get out of here?" His eyebrows raised, his gaze moved down to your lips then back up to your eyes.

"You know it, baby."

彡

You and Robby were both been expecting some kind of after party to be held after prom, it was a tradition and it was finally your turn to be apart of it. Your whole night felt surreal.

You and Robby stumbled in through the door, his lips separating from your warm ones as he removed his hands from your waist.

"Aye look at Robby over there getting some, why don't I have that?" Kyler remarked, you could tell his dumbass was already intoxicated, you could smell his breath from a mile away.

"Maybe if you actually became tolerable more girls would be attracted to you," You shook your head with a chuckle.

Robby swiftly moved his hand up to your mouth, turning your chin toward him so you were eye level and wiped off your wet bottom lip as you tried not to internally freak out and played it somewhat normal by fixing his undone tie, maybe you should've have pulled on it as hard as you did outside.

"We'll continue that later," You whispered, then smacked his ass causing him to wince somewhat loudly.

Tory laughed, attempting to get Kyler some water to stay at least some what allegeable, "You alright over there, Keene?" She grabbed a dishrag from the drawer next to her, which she had remembered from the countless times she and the cobra gang had hung out with Stingray in the previous times.

"Yeah," Robby lied with a voice crack.

You laughed, then strolled over to find something else to do, Robby quickly following. "Why do you keep smacking my ass?" He questioned, you could tell he was becoming a frantic mess already. It was only eleven thirty-five post meridiem.

"You've got a voluptuous ass on you, man, if you haven't realized that already," You had smacked it at least seventeen times throughout the night, and it wasn't even close to being finished yet. "Oh?" You ignored his simple remark.

"Why? Do you not like it?"

"I never said that," He laughed and scratched his neck awkwardly.

You hummed, your left hand grasping his tie and your right ran along his stabbing jawline, you raised your lips up to his ear, "You know I wouldn't purposely do anything you're uncomfortable with, right, love?"

You softly kissed below his ear, knowing that was his sweet spot. You heard an almost silent sigh leave his lips, the actions you executed always left him desired for more.

He mumbled a ‘mhm’.

"Use your words, my king."

His knees became week and he almost collapsed in the middle of the room. Your voice was so sexy. "Yes, I know that, Y/N." His voice was raspy and low, as if he just had sexual intercourse although you've just been teasing him with your words.

"Good. Just wanted to make sure," Your nails lightly heaved the soft skin of his face. "Let's go find somewhere more private, shall we?" He nodded eagerly, but then remembered to use his words.

"Please, Y/N."

The sound of him begging quietly in your ear made you get butterflies in the place a little lower than your stomach, you felt your heart skip a beat as you made eye contact, grabbed him by his tie and pulled him in for a kiss, at this point, it didn't even matter if Sam or Miguel saw you.

You winked, then turn around, your fingers still firmly grasping his tie, leading him to find a somewhat empty closet.

Once you did just that, Robby felt his pants get tighter as you closed the door behind the two of you and pushed him up against the door.

You were so enticing. "You look so good, my love," Your hand traced faintly down his chest, he was so aroused his pale cheeks were almost red.

"Please, Y/N."

"Please what, my love? What do you want?" He let out a frustrated groan as your hand advanced lower and lower, stopping at his V-line. "T- touch me."

You enjoyed this side of him, he rarely showed vulnerability, and when he did it was with you. It made you aroused at the thought and sight of him begging for you to touch him.

Your lips firmly pushed against his, your left hand ran into his hair, pulling roughly and he let out an raucous moan. He eagerly pushed his crotch against you in attempt for some class of friction, failing miserably as you caught the act and stepped away, your lips separating.

"How cute, you're impatient," Your words were sweet like honey but what they meant made him stuck. He was officially sexually frustrated because of you, and you were adoring it.

You pushed his blazer off, his button-up displayed his chest beautifully. "Just thought I would help you, cause you seem to be very hot and bothered." He whined at your words.

"Please don't tease me. Please, please just do something. I don't care what it is," God, he was so needy. "Just touch me, Y/N."

You slowly undid the first three buttons of his shirt, leaving the remaining ones together as Robby's hands flit up to both verges of your face. "Y/N. Do something. I'm begging you," You could hear the direct need in his tone, and it made your knees give in.

You couldn't wait any longer to watch your boyfriend lose it.

"Fine."

You moved quickly, your hands swiftly undoing his pants and shoving them down. His boxers joined his pants and you grabbed ahold of him. He let out a needy whimper. "That's what you wanted, wasn't it, love? For me to touch you? You're so fucking needy."

He panted heavily, "You really have a way with words, huh?" He shuttered, his cheeks were bright pink and his hair was slightly messed up from your hands grasping at it.

"Only you would know that," A shiver traveled down his spine as you bent over and spat, then began pumping him faster.

You didn't bother shielding his lips with your free hand because you knew the loudly blasting music would cover his mellow whines and whimpers. "Holy shit." His hand fumbled on the door nob, trying to find something to lean himself on.

You looked him directly in the eye, you then turned him so his back was faced on the inside wall of the colorless closet.

Precum leaked off of him, he watched you in awe as you swiped your thumb across him and brought the remains up, your swollen lips closed around, your tongue worshipped his sweet taste.

He moaned at the sight, everything you did evoked him.

"Your hands are so, fuck," He wasn't able to form a proper sentence so you finished it for him, "Talented? Soft? Perfect? Something along those lines I'm assuming?" You said with a grin, your cocky side began to show, it made him weaker by the second.

"I'm so close, fuck," He whispered as his legs began to shake and his heart began to beat much faster than before. You slowly pulled away, and he suddenly became cold at the loss of your touch. He whined desperately, by now his entire body was alight with arousal and it was really pissing him off how you kept teasing but he knew if he did something about it he would regret it poorly.

"You want to come? Okay, I want to hear you beg for it. I want to hear you explain what you want me to do and then I may just do it." You spoke. He took that as a challenge. Challenge excepted.

He knew just how to make you listen.

"Please, Y/N, please, let me come," He begged with the tiniest smirk you've ever seen, "Please, I'll do anything, I'll be such a good boy for you," You almost moaned but you ceased yourself, "Please, please let me come." He begged.

You looked him in the eye and pumped him as fast as your hand could possibly go, he moaned loudly and began thrusting up to your hand. You wanted him to regret that he ever sassed you, even if it was just a little smirk he gave, however you saw it.

He mouth fell open, his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Even after he came, you continued pumping him and he groaned.

Your fingers firmly gripped his throat.

"You really think you can purposely turn me on and not expect any consequences? Think again, Keene, you may have got what you wanted, but oh, honey, I'm going to do so much more than that." He whimpered at your words, and your hand continued loving at the same speed.

You began to get a cramp in your hand but you ignored it and continued your assault by rotating your hand and rubbing your thumb along his tip. "Fuck!"

He came again.

And again.

And again.

The overstimulations were enjoyable at first but it eventually became too much, and he begged for you to stop or else he would explode. You knew that. "You gonna be sassy to me?" Your hand tightened on his neck, and you examined his eyes. His pupils were dilating like crazy.

"No, Y/N, I promise I won't. You're in charge, I know that now. I'm so sorry, please forgive me." His attempted apology was like music to your ears. "Are you really sorry?"

"Yes!"

You smirked, and pursued to pump him. "Oh god I'm so close again, please please let this be the last one I w- won't be able to walk." He was a mess. It was beautiful.

"Okay my king, come for me. One last time." Your soft whispers caused him to throw his head back, he didn't care how hard it hit the door or how loud it could've sounded. He shouted your name as he orgasmed, and you swore he was about to cry.

After he finished he almost fell over but you caught him before he could. You put his weight back into the wall and cupped his cheek carefully. "You did so well, honey."

He melted into the warmth of your hand, and he stopped the arise of the red on his cheeks. "Thank you."

It made you happy knowing he trusted you enough to be vulnerable around you. You got him to beg multiple times, even if quite a few seemed sarcastic, he clearly learned his lesson.

He challenged you, and you won. You always won.

[daisda]

Daisda Light Blue Sweetheart Mermaid Spaghetti Straps Prom Dress With Beads

[androgynealienfemme]

"I was barely a dyke then, let alone butch, but it was the lure of female masculinity that drew me out and into the queer world. When I was coming out, butch was no longer new. There was both popular knowledge and an underground cultural understanding of what it meant to be butch -- and there were books written from both perspectives. I may not have known it intimately, as a late-blooming queer who grew up in an extremely straight southern-US town, but I knew enough to feel self-conscious about claiming butchness.

You see, I was never a tomboy. There, I said it. I was never a goddamn tomboy; I never resisted the dresses my mom wanted me to wear, never hid in my dad's closet trying on his clothes. I did gender conformity without any real fight, and when I came out to my mom, she used it against me-- "But you were always so feminine!"

Maybe I didn't have the fight in me, maybe I wanted to fit in more than I wanted to know myself, but until I was well past twenty, I wore my hair long, with earrings dangling, and makeup on my face. I wore spaghetti-strap tank tops and flowing skirts. I flaunted my cleavage.

The butch narrative I had absorbed, the one I began to furtively read about as I came out, wasn't mine. I wasn't a rough-and-tumblr butch kid, all scabby knees and hardness, fighting against mom over Sunday dresses. I wasn't good at sports, didn't have trouble being friends with girls, didn't feel more "boy" than "girl." So when I slowly started easing towards the masculine side of the spectrum, I was self-conscious as hell. I felt like an imposter. I felt like a phony. I had similar feelings when I came out as a lesbian, but my fantasies about women quickly assuaged my fears of being a queer fraud.

With my gender presentation, I couldn't get over the feeling that I was trying too hard. Even as I slowly shed the layers of femininity in my presentation, the self-consciousness still affected what labels I used. I knew what butch was, and I still felt it couldn't be me. I had dated me. I wore a pink dress to prom. I was short and chubby and more giggly than tough.

It was a fierce femme who bossy-bottomed me into the role of butch top. It was easy to be the butch to C's femme, and she delighted in my enjoyment of her high hells, pretty dresses, and makeup. In those moments, when my insecurity was stronger than my sense of self, the contrast between my budding masculinity and her strong, well-articulated femininity were just what I needed to feel whole, strong, even butch. C didn't change me, exactly, but our gender-play heavy sex gave me room to figure out what my gender could look like in those private spaces we shared."

“Persistence: All Ways Butch and Femme: Coming Back Around to Butch” by Miriam Zoila Perez, On Butch and Femme: Compiled Readings, (edited by I.M. Epstein) (2017)

[vixfruitmartinez]

Knuckles (Sonic The Movie 2) x reader

Prompt: Your school in green hills is having a prom night, and the three furball aliens decide to join the party. Little did you know, one of them was interested in you.

CW: Fluff, slight verbal abuse in the beginning

<<2nd Person POV>>

This was it. You looked at your cat theme calendar, the circled square with todays date in red marker made it stand out. It had big bold letters written on it: PROM NIGHT!

You looked at your red and black dress, and your black heels and smiled. You walked over to your desk to start doing your hair and makeup but was interrupted when your mom bursted in your room.

You jumped and looked over at her. One of her hands hid something behind her back, she looked at your dress and then back at you. “Are you serious?” She walked over to you.

“What?” You asked, confused. You saw her pull out the mysterious item from behind her back to reveal a: long, poofy skirt dress that had long sleeves. The color was a light blue and had one of the most tacky designs you ever saw.

“Isn’t it so cute?” Your mom chirped holding it up to you, to see how it would look on you. “Now you don’t have to wear that ugly funeral dress.” She handed you the light blue mistake of a dress.

You opened your mouth to speak, “But mom, you said I could wear this dress. You even said it would-“

“I only said that cause’ I thought you were going to wear it for a party, not prom!” She put her hands on her hips. “Besides, you know I was lying when I said it looked good. I cannot believe you actually want to wear that dress.”

“Yes mom, I do want to wear it.” You turned your back to her and looked at your dress in your hand, placing it on the bed.

“Sweetie, why do you do this to me?” Your mother cried out, throwing the blue dress on the bed next to your pick of dress.

“Mom, please get out.” You softly said, looking at her again.

She tsked before walking to the door. She paused in the middle of the doorway, “You don’t even have the body for the other dress, I’m actually doing you a favor.”

You bit your lip and walked over to the door and closed it, locking it. Why was she always this way? You thought as you sucked in your tears. It didn’t matter, you were going to rock the dress you picked out and you were gonna look amazing.

You sat down on your desk and began doing your makeup: eyeliner, mascara, fake lashes, highlighter, foundation, concealer, bronzer, lipstick, did your eyebrows and finally your eye makeup. You decided to do a dark red to a light red eye makeup, which looked amazing with your red lipstick.

Your hair was next, you decided to do (favorite hairstyle). Once you finished your hair you took a good look at your reflection. You turned your face to look at yourself from different angles. You smiled at the amazing successful look you created.

You stood off your chair, walking to your dress, glancing at your moms choice before huffing. Looking at your choice, you grabbed it and felt relieved she didn’t make you wear the other option.

Your dress has spaghetti straps, and had a 1990’s theme corset that was a black and red mix that looked amazing with the lower half of the dress. It was red with a black lace see through layer over it. You put your strapless bra on, taking off your shorts. You slowly stepped into it, putting the straps over your shoulders, and then working on the corset.

You pulled out your full body size mirror from your closet and looked at your reflection. You felt like your forgetting something. You looked around the room, seeing your black high heels and putting them on.

You reached over to your desk and grabbed your black bag and leaving your room. Before walking outside to your car you noticed the look your mom gave you: a glare and a disappointed shake of her head.

Not that you care. Because you look good. And you know it.

—

You parked outside your school building, noticing the flashing lights, lighting up the dark sky. You smiled, grabbing your purse and exiting from your car.

You walked to the gymnasium building, seeing two teachers standing outside. They greeted you and let you in.

Inside was even brighter, everyone was dancing, drinking punch, talking, singing all of that. You looked around, confused and decided to take a seat.

Everyone at school didn’t really talk to you, but that’s okay. You like being alone. Not really. It sucks, but hey, you’re used to it.

You heard the microphone buzz and get everyone’s attention.

“Hey peeps!” A confident, familiar voice spoke. It was that blue devil that crazy Carl mentioned. “It’s me, Sonic, and Tails-and Knuckles! We’re joining your party so don’t mind us!” He chuckled before running to the middle of the dance floor and dancing with a random girl.

You smiled softly and watched the other two look around confused. The fox was then invited by two girls and he nodded. They walked together and started dancing together, the two girls cheering him on.

You licked your chapped lips, and decided to get a drink. You got up and walked off to the snack table. It had chips, soda, punch and at the very end was a camera guy taking pictures of couples and groups of friends. You frowned, realizing you won’t get to take a picture with someone.

You poured yourself some of the red punch, it mainly being ice. You took a sip, the fruit tasting a bit to strong for your liking. You continued watching the people dance, taking sips of your drink.

“Hello!”

The sudden voice made you choke on your punch a bit, before coughing it all out. You looked over towards the sound source and saw the red friend of sonics. You noticed his piercing purple eyes and his spiky gloves.

Must be knuckles.

“Hi there!” You waved, speaking loudly so he could hear you.

“I like your dress, would you like to preform a casual frolic between two individual organisms?” He said with a robotic voice.

You processed what he said, realizing he asked you to dance with him.

Knuckles asked you.

To dance with him.

“I would enjoy that, Knuckles was it?” You asked and he nodded. “I’m (Y/n).” You placed your punch down, knowing you’ll forget about it and it’ll be thrown in the trash.

He reached his hand up and grabbed your hand which was very tiny compared to his hand. He walked you to a free spot, before letting go of your hand and looking up at you.

In perfect timing a slow dancing song slowly faded in, making people switch their way of moving boldly to looking at specific people and grabbing their hands. Some went back to sit down with their friends, while others asked other people to dance with them.

You noticed Knuckles glancing at you, nervously. You stepped forward, knowing you’ll be making the first move. You grabbed his hand with your right and he automatically locked his other hand to your hip, you moving your free hand to his shoulder. You were leaned down so you can comfortably place your hand on his shoulder:

“First time?.” you asked, slowly moving to the rhythm.

“Yes, I’ve never done this ritual before.” He looked away in embarrassment.

“Me too. I practiced with my dad, but that doesn’t really count.” You chuckled.

“I like your hair, (Y/n).” He spoke softly to match the vibe of the music.

“Thank you, I like your eye color. Reminds me of a crystal.” You reached over and booped his nose and his spikes proofed up slightly.

“No one has ever said that to me.”

You tilted your head slightly, “First time for everything, right?”

He looked down, then up at you, “Yes.”

“Knuckles.” You called out.

“Yes?” The music slowly faded down and went into a more hyper one.

The people who sat on the tables got up dancing more confident and hyping each other up. The couples stopped slow dancing and started dancing more freely, smiling and laughing.

“Would you like to take a picture with me?” You pointed to the picture booth.

“What is a picture?” He asked out loud.

Right, he isn’t from earth. “Well.” you started, “A picture is a permanent way to see a memory. That’s the best way to describe it.” You stood up straight, his hand on your hip lowered but the one you held stayed there.

“So? Want to take a temporary memory thing with me?” You giggled.

“Yes, let us go!” He threw his free fist upward. You laughed before nodding and dragging him to the Photo Booth.

You stood in front of the pasty light pink background with the words: PROM NIGHT on it.

The camera guy, got ready and lifted a hand up holding three fingers up. He slowly put one finger down at a time.

You felt yourself being thrown in the air and caught bridle style. You let out a yell before looking at Knuckles and then back at the camera to pose.

—

Two weeks later you were called downstairs by your dad. He had a small box on the table with your name on it. In the mailbox was:

It was the prom night photo. You held a smile on your face, while Knuckles had a cocky grin on his.

“I hope I see him again so I can show him the photo.”

[thedressoutlet]

Cinderella Divine Sexy Spaghetti Strap Formal Long Prom Dress-Style Number CD1872 available from our site thedressoutlet.com

[aelloposchrysopterus]

Ballroom Dancing and Other Monsters

Bang hates fancy parties. She hates formal etiquette. She really hates anything where she can’t solve her problems with knives, ideally in someone else’s body. But she was going to suffer through — the horrors — prom because Violetta and Zeetha wanted to go, and she wasn’t going to be a lousy friend. (She also didn’t want Gil to go alone, which would have happened, since Agatha refused to go, Tarvek was going with Violetta, Xerxesphina was Colette’s date, and Zeetha had her mysterious boyfriend, and Klaus had told his son that he was going, whether he wanted to or not.)

Bang, above all, hates formal dresses. She’d called Tarvek to find an outfit for her. He’d thought she was going to try to kill him, but when it became clear that she’d kill him if he didn’t get her a dress, he made sure to find a very pretty one for her. It was a lovely cream with crimson beadwork on the bodice, spaghetti straps, an A-line full skirt, and a deep V-neck. She did have to admit that she felt pretty in it, even if it did make her vulnerable.

“Eep,” she yelped as Zeetha zipped it up.

“Thought you were invulnerable to pain,” Zeetha remarked.

“I’m not invulnerable to having all the air squeezed out of my chest!” Bang almost reached for a knife but stopped herself. Zeetha is a friend. She means well.

“Okay, Zeetha, try to murder me now,” Violetta laughed. She was in a deep purple off-the-shoulder dress with a tiered tulle skirt. Another Tarvek selection.

Zeetha obliged, yanking Violetta’s zipper up. She was wearing a golden mermaid dress that glistened in the light, with heels and bracelets the same hue of green as her hair. Tarvek hadn’t had any hand in her outfit; she’d picked it out herself. (He had almost been insulted that she hadn’t consulted him.)

“Are we ready to party?” Zeetha asked, rolling the r in a flamboyant manner. “Come on, the limo’s waiting outside!”

“The… limo?” Was not expecting this. Bang awkwardly laughed.

Zeetha rolled her eyes. “We’re picking up the boys in style, gals!” She grabbed Bang and Zeetha by the arms and yanked them outside, plopping them in the limo. “First stop, Tarvek!”

Tarvek was waiting for them when they got to his house. He hurriedly jumped into the limo — Bang could tell that he was worried about his father and his sister trying to stop him. His father was controlling to an extreme and his sister was… ill. She knew his home life wasn’t great, which was why she felt a twinge of guilt each time she stabbed him.

“Hey, Tarvek, if you need somewhere to stay tonight, my place is yours,” she said.

He jumped up in his seat. “Thanks! I don’t think I’ll need it, but thanks anyhow!” He was wearing a purple suit that matched Violetta’s dress exactly, with a purple and blue tie and a blue pocket square. The blue was Wulfenbach blue. Don’t say a thing. Let him pine on his own. He idly adjusted his cufflinks.

“So, Zeetha, who’s getting picked up next?” Violetta asked, fiddling with her amethyst necklace.

Zeetha smiled. “Gil, of course.”

“If he’s in anything other than green, blue, and purple, it’ll be a miracle,” Tarvek muttered.

“Oh, Tarvek!” Zeetha giggled. “Don’t worry. I made sure he got a suit. It’s black, with a cream shirt and a red tie and pocket square. It matches Bang perfectly!”

Tarvek breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much, Zeetha. A weight has truly been lifted off my shoulder.”

Bang suddenly realized that the beads on her dress were the same shade of red as Tarvek’s hair.

At Wulfenbach’s, Gil leapt out of the house in the suit Zeetha had bought for him, bounding into the car like an excitable puppy. He flopped down next to Bang, who noted that his new shoes were scuffed up already. Tarvek saw the exact same thing and tossed some black shoe polish towards Gil.

“You’ll need to open the window while applying that,” Tarvek said.

“You had this on you?” Gil asked, incredulous.

Tarvek shrugged. “A well groomed man is always prepared… your cuffs are sewn together, aren’t they?”

“It’s better that than Gil losing a cufflink again!” Zeetha retorted. “Remember when he did that in front of Queen Albia? The Baron was embarrassed for years.”

“Hey,” Gil rolled his eyes. “I’m not the one who showed up in traditional Skifandrian attire to the wedding of one of Albia’s daughters and nearly gave her a heart attack.”

The siblings looked like they were about to punch each other for a second, but the situation defused itself. Good, that’s one more time I won’t have to patch up Gil’s outfit tonight. Zeetha slouched back in her seat as Gil rested his right leg on his left.

“Who’s next?” Violetta eagerly asked.

Zeetha tensed. “I hate to do this,” she said, “but please keep this under wraps. He’s a Jager.”

“What?” Gil turned to his sister. “Dad’s going to kill you! And how did you let the prom committee to give a guest pass to a Jager?”

She twiddled her thumbs. “I pulled some strings, and Dad doesn’t need to know about it. For what it’s worth, Mom approved. He’s a nice guy, not any fangier than I am, just, y’know, immortal. I met him at the MMA gym.” She sighed. “His name’s Axel Higgs.”

The car was silent.

“Zeetha has a boyfriend! Good job, girl!” Violetta yelled.

The mysterious Axel Higgs was picked up outside a defense contractor’s office headquarters. His suit was a distinguished ecru, with a pale golden shirt and a green tie and pocket square. He carried himself with an air of dignity and refinement. A man of many hats.

Nobody said anything when he entered the limo. He smiled at them. No fangs. He sat next to Zeetha, who silently wrapped an arm around him.

“Should we, uh, do introductions?” Bang asked.

Zeetha grinned a fangy smile. “Yeah, sure! Do you want to start?”

“Okay,” Bang said. “I’m Bang Dupree. It’s short for Bangladesh. I met Zeetha last year, I think, at a karate tournament. Our match was a draw because the refs stopped us before one of us killed the other.”

“Gil Wulfenbach, short for Gilgamesh. I’m Zeetha’s long-lost twin brother. Our parents are divorced, so I’m stuck living with our dad, who’s some high-up in the defense industry.”

“Violetta Mondarev. I met Zeetha in our film class. We were watching The Princess Bride and we bonded over the inaccuracies in the fight scenes and the poisoning scene.”

“Tarvek Sturmvoraus, Violetta’s cousin. I’m not really all that close with Zeetha — I’m a friend of Gil’s and I’m close with my cousin, so I run into her a lot, but we’ve never really hung out.” Gil blushed at “friend”.

“Axel Higgs, Zeetha’s boyfriend and Jager. I wish I could tell you more about me, but that’s unfortunately classified information.”

Violetta and Tarvek were waltzing respectably well. He’s an excellent dancer — of course he is — and she’d learned from him. She was holding her skirt up just right, and when she twirled, it was glorious. Tarvek’s pince-nez gave them the general impression of being a relic from the Victorian era.

Colette and Xerxesphina were dancing quite well, too. They were enjoying the quick tempo of the Viennese waltz, taking advantage of it to twirl about the dance floor in a modified grapevine step. This was neatly avoiding the question of who was really in the lead.

Zeetha and Higgs were in such a close embrace that it was a surprise they were able to move at all, but moving they were. Their technique was subpar, particularly when compared to Tarvek’s meticulous footwork, but they were in tune with each other in a way that almost no other couple was.

Gil and Bang, on the other hand, were miserably failing at dancing. It wasn’t just the waltz. The saraband had been such a disaster that Tarvek had broken etiquette to whisk Bang off to dance with her while Violetta attempted to instill the basics in Gil. It didn’t help matters that Gil seemed to have two left feet.

“I hate this,” she whispered.

“I know,” he hissed back. “Could you at least try a bit harder?”

“Why should I keep trying when you’re the one who’s blundering the moves?”

Gil looked like he was ten seconds away from being arrested for attempted murder. “How about you think of this as a monster you want to kill?”

“Already trying,” she said. And it’s not working.

Later, they were all taking a break from dancing. Colette and Xerxesphina had gone off to “brush up their makeup”. More like “brush up on making out”. Tarvek was fixing his tie knot — his Eldredge had become asymmetrical, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. Gil and Higgs were enjoying discussing Jager history.

This meant that Bang, Violetta, and Zeetha were sitting at a table, drinking Arnold Palmers and munching on cake, chatting a little bit as they pleased to. Zeetha was a bit pissed that her brother was monopolizing her boyfriend (“especially since he’s got his own boyfriend here, too”), while Violetta was complaining about how sore her feet were (“with him, it’s always aesthetic over function, and it’s not like he’s ever tried dancing in these shoes”). Bang was just fiddling with her straw, listening to her friends.

She was also the first one to notice the monster when it came crashing through the ceiling.

“Guys. Look.” She gently shoved Violetta and Zeetha. “Is that just me, or is that something we can fight?”

“Oh yeah,” Zeetha’s eyes glazed over as their classmates began screaming. “Let’s go fight this thing.” She snatched one of Violetta’s shoes and snapped the heel off. “It’s improvised weapons time!”

Violetta took her other shoe and snapped its heel off, while Bang took an entire table leg. Zeetha passed the other heel to Violetta to grab an entire chair. Violetta complemented her heels by taking a hair pin out of a nearby dancer’s coiffure.

The Fighting Girls Tea and Cake Society started running after the monster, ready to take it down.

Maybe formal dances aren’t all so bad.

Read on AO3.

[lunss-couture]

Dark Green Tulle Corset Formal Ball Gown with a Peplum

Vintage-inspired dark green tulle floor-length prom or sweet-16 formal gown with a peplum. Sweetheart neckline with spaghetti straps and corset bodice, dark green tulle ball gown skirt with flounced hemline, lace-up back.

[suziwest-dresscollection]

[nerdyvocals]

hi

What are your thoughts on Cynthia's dress and where she got it from?

SO GLAD YOU ASKED

I'd had some initial thoughts based on my first impression of the dress when I watched the episode, which I expanded on with further research of 1950s fashion plus my own knowledge of storytelling via costumes and color theory. Please note before I get into this theory that it is just that: a theory, based on the analysis of a garment and the knowledge I have acquired via my specific education and discipline.

That said, I do know for a fact that at least some part of my line of thought was correct. A few days ago, I stumbled across an Instagram page, (pinkladiescostumes), which is run by Sam Hawkins, the costumer who designed episodes 4-10. Hawkins has made several posts with clearer images of certain costumes, original concept designs, the inspiration behind the looks, and detailed descriptions of the reasonings/ideas behind them and what they're meant to convey. Highly recommend you give the page a follow if you use insta and are interested in costumes!

Now let's get into it. As before, this is a long post, so analysis is under the cut.

First things first, what are we working with here?

(Images from @ pinkladiescostumes on instagram)

It's got a floor-length hem, with a tulle overskirt. It looks to me like the tulle is tiered (I think I'm counting eleven tiers??? God, making a three-tiered skirt in a class last semester nearly gave me a mental breakdown, I think eleven tiers of TULLE would have actually killed me), but the rest of the skirt layers are not. Spaghetti straps, with a detachable tulle shawl. And what looks like a nice lacy, flowery detailing on the bodice. Light, girly, and flowy. (Also fun fact from the costume page: This was an actual vintage dress that was altered to fit Ari! The shawl was added on for Cynthia, though.)

I know I've previously called this look a monstrosity, but that was mainly in jest. This dress is GORGEOUS, it's just not very Cynthia.

Of course, that is, in fact, the point. But I will circle back to that. I want to talk about why I think this is a new dress. Let's talk a bit about school dance history and fashion trends.

It was around the 1930s that school dances as we know them today began to arise. The debutante balls held by colleges began to gain a casual cousin in high schools by the names of soph hops and proms. By the 50's, tea-length dresses came into fashion, similar to what Jane is wearing. Speghetti straps and strapless were making their appearances as well, usually paired with shawls (even useless little ones like what Cynthia is wearing!). The rise of rock and roll and other such music that inspired fast, swinging dances meant that fuller skirts with lots of movement were a go-to. I was doing digging and found a few articles with some interesting pictures.

(Image from Elle article "Prom Dresses Through the Years: An Evolution" by Mary Grace Garis and Charlotte Chilton)

(Image from The Vintage Inn article "Prom in the 19040s and 1950s")

(Image from VintageDancer article, "1950s History of Prom, Party, Evening and Formal Dresses")

(Image from r/VintageFasion post by u/bonesbugsnferns, "took my great grandmothers 1954 prom dress out to see glenn miller orchestra with my boy:))

Do any of these look familiar?

Each of these dresses are from the very early 1950s; at most from '55. Why is that significant? Well, in 1954, when season one takes place, you probably wouldn't find these dresses second-hand.

Now, admittedly, this is where my theory becomes less physical-evidence based and is pulling more from my own lived experiences, but bear with me and hear me out.

Coming off of The Great Depression and World War II, people were hesitant to get rid of things, especially clothes, and especially women. A dress for a dance might only be worn once, but it would be saved in a chest or an attic for a future generation (see above, the reddit user who wore her grandmother's prom dress from 1954) rather than be taken to a charity shop.

Of course, the Fall Ball wasn't a prom, but I raise you this: my grandmother still has every school dress she ever wore, whether it be prom, homecoming, or a winter formal; as do most of my aunts, cousins, and female friends. I still have my eighth-grade Who's Who semi-formal dress in my closet at my mother's house, and my prom dress is still in its original bag (class of 2020! I did not get my prom).

I grew up very poor, and most of my dance dresses came from thrift stores. Rule of thumb: anything you find that's gonna be in budget is gonna be at least five years out of fashion.

So, this leads me to believe that Cynthia splurged and bought a new dress. It fits in with her story arch as well.

At this point in time, Cynthia's having a rough go of it. They've been pushed out of her comfort zone in the drama club, she bailed on the play quite literally at the last possible second, and they're having feelings for a girl that she's not ready to, and cannot safely, confront. Being queer in high school, especially when you are or believe yourself to be the only one in your friend group who is, is a very isolating experience. And remember your LGBT history kids: being gay was a criminal offense, even in California, for most of the 20th century (in fact, California wouldn't see a significant attempt to lessen the laws until the 1960s).

So keep in mind here: Cynthia's hesitation to act on their feelings (or rather, the total refusal to acknowledge them) isn't (just) coming from something as simple as a fear of rejection or social isolation: if she is found out, she is risking a criminal record, imprisonment, forced conversion, or death.

And how does that fear manifest? By trying to look as much like a girl as possible. And if that means buying a brand-new dress she'd only wear once? Then so be it.

And this dress is the antithesis of anything we see Cynthia wear in the entire series. Their wardrobe is full of dark colors and loose fits, sharp lines and relaxed appearances. Even her more feminine school clothes contain traces of these more masculine elements. So what is this dress trying to say?

Anyone here familiar with color theory?

A brief explanation: our brains associate colors with certain things, and a designer will utilize these associations when trying to elicit a certain thought or feeling about something. (An example of this going badly that I feel most are familiar with, see: A Children's Hospital.)

(Image from Colors Explained article, "Meaning of the Color Yellow: Symbolism, Common Uses, & More")

This graphic I found explains what yellow is associated with pretty well. Every color has its positive and negative connotations, and what is being done with Cynthia's dress is very clever.

As I stated previously, they are trying very hard to put up a front of being perfectly fine. She is not ready to confront her feelings for Lydia, let alone the fact that she's queer, and both of these things are burdens she has to carry alone. So she throws herself into a date with the one boy she can guarantee is interested in her. She dons a flowery, lacy, yellow dress, looking as much like the "pretty peppies" as she can make herself appear. And she tries so hard to seem happy with him; be the enthusiastic, bubbly, smiley girlfriend.

Lydia, of course, sees right through this. "You can't pull that off."

And we see the mask slip. Yellow means other things as well; caution, sickness, cowardice, betrayal.

Caution: this carefully crafted straight girl persona.

Sickness: anyone can see how uncomfortable, how ill they look in their own skin.

Cowardice: running, running, running; from the play, from Lydia, from the Pink Ladies, from what she's realizing about herself.

Betrayal: Lashing out at Lydia when she tries to make amends. Dragging Shy Guy into the kitchen, just to hurt her. Pushing him to do more, blaming him when he can't make her feel normal, turning her cruelty on him, damaging a life-long friendship in the process.

And in the end, a new dress didn't matter. It doesn't make her 'normal', doesn't make these terrifying notions go away. It was only a warning sign for what was to come.

If you stuck around this long, props to you! This went on longer than I intended, but y'know, I got a lot to say. I've got a few more costume analysis requests burning a hole in my ask box, plus my list of fic plans (which has gotten... longer), but I'm going to have to take a brief hiatus. On top of my summer stock work getting more intense in a few days, I also need to prepare a research proposal in association with my degree track so that I can graduate on time, and I have to start working on the first draft soon, so if I put myself on hiatus from what I want to be writing, I'm hoping I can force myself to get what I have to write done faster. Part of said research is going to involve looking into 1950s fashion, so I'm counting this as a knowledge refresher.

That said, I'm leaving my ask box open to more requests, questions, or anything else, and I'll get to them as I can. Bye for now!

[ballbellas]

embroidered flowers😊