#halloween patent fashion

[waspie-corset]

Stage Presence Elevated: Vinyl Corset Styling for Dancers and Performers

In the world of performance art, costume choices are just as critical as the choreography, lyrics, or music. A well-chosen outfit not only enhances the visual impact but also complements the performer’s persona and artistic expression. Among the many wardrobe staples for dancers and stage performers, vinyl corsets stand out as a statement piece that combines boldness, elegance, and versatility.

This article dives into the art of styling vinyl corsets for dancers and performers, offering tips and inspiration to help elevate your stage presence and leave a lasting impression on your audience.

Why Vinyl Corsets?

Vinyl corsets are more than just garments; they are symbols of confidence and creativity. Their glossy, high-shine finish ensures they catch every beam of stage light, drawing attention to the performer. Here’s why they’re a favorite in the performing arts:

Visual Impact: The reflective surface of vinyl creates dynamic lighting effects, adding depth and drama to your performance.

Flattering Fit: Designed to sculpt and enhance the natural curves of the body, vinyl corsets provide a sleek and striking silhouette.

Durability: Vinyl is a tough material, capable of withstanding intense performances and frequent wear.

Versatility: From burlesque to contemporary dance, vinyl corsets adapt to a wide range of performance styles and themes.

Styling Vinyl Corsets for Dancers

For dancers, movement and costume must work in harmony. Vinyl corsets can be both eye-catching and functional when styled thoughtfully.

1. Choreography-Specific Looks

Contemporary Dance: Pair a vinyl corset with flowing chiffon or tulle skirts to contrast the sleekness of vinyl with soft, ethereal fabric.

Hip-Hop Fusion: Combine a vinyl corset with joggers and high-top sneakers for a street-style edge. Layer with metallic accessories for extra flair.

Latin or Ballroom: Style your corset with a ruffled skirt or fringe accents to complement the dramatic movements of salsa or tango.

2. Color Coordination

Monochrome Magic: Opt for a single-color theme, such as all-black or all-white, for a cohesive and polished look.

Pop of Color: Use a brightly colored vinyl corset as the centerpiece of your outfit, keeping other elements neutral to avoid overwhelming the look.

Metallic Accents: Silver or gold vinyl corsets pair beautifully with neutral tones, creating a futuristic, high-fashion vibe.

3. Accessories for Dancers

Legwear: Fishnet tights, thigh-high stockings, or even leggings with a hint of shimmer can complement a vinyl corset.

Footwear: Choose dance-friendly shoes that match the corset’s aesthetic, such as heeled boots for burlesque or sneakers for hip-hop.

Headpieces: Add a crown, tiara, or jeweled headband for an extra touch of glamour.

Vinyl Corsets in Burlesque and Theatrical Performances

Vinyl corsets are a staple in burlesque and theatrical performances, where drama, seduction, and storytelling reign supreme.

1. Classic Burlesque Aesthetic

Vintage Glamour: A black or red punk corset costumes paired with satin gloves and a feather boa channels the timeless allure of burlesque.

Bejeweled Beauty: Choose corsets adorned with rhinestones, sequins, or embroidery to sparkle under stage lights.

Feathered Flair: Pair with a feathered skirt or fan for a luxurious and dramatic effect.

2. Role-Playing Themes

Villainous Vibes: A dark patent steel boned corset with metallic or leather accents is perfect for portraying strong, edgy characters.

Fantasy Enchantment: Opt for pastel or metallic shinny corsets paired with flowing capes or skirts to create a fairy-tale aesthetic.

Circus Chic: Combine a vinyl corset with striped pants or skirts for a whimsical, ringmaster-inspired look.

Rocking Vinyl Corsets in Music Performances

Musicians and singers often use fashion to amplify their on-stage personas. Vinyl corsets are an excellent choice for artists who want to convey power, confidence, and style.

1. Edgy Rocker Style

Pair a black vinyl corset with ripped jeans and leather boots for a quintessential rock-and-roll vibe. Add a studded jacket or chain necklace for extra attitude.

2. Pop Star Glamor

For a playful, modern look, opt for shinny strap corsets in vibrant colors like neon pink or holographic shades. Pair them with mini skirts or shorts for a youthful, energetic aesthetic.

3. Alternative Edge

Choose corsets with unique details such as zippers, spikes, or laces for a punk or gothic-inspired outfit. Pair with fishnet stockings and platform boots.

Choosing the Right Vinyl Corset

Selecting the perfect vinyl waist training corset involves balancing style, comfort, and quality. Here are some tips:

Focus on Fit: Look for adjustable designs with laces, buckles, or stretch panels to ensure a snug yet comfortable fit.

Prioritize Quality: Opt for high-grade vinyl that is both durable and flexible to accommodate movement.

Consider Your Performance Theme: Select a corset style that aligns with your act, whether it’s classic, modern, edgy, or theatrical.

Choose the Right Length: Shorter steampunk corsets work well for high-energy dance routines, while full-length designs are better for dramatic, slow-paced performances.

Caring for Vinyl Corsets

To keep your pvc gothic corset stage-ready, follow these maintenance tips:

Cleaning: Wipe the surface with a soft cloth dampened with water and mild soap. Avoid harsh chemicals that can damage the vinyl.

Storage: Store flat or on a padded hanger in a cool, dry place away from direct sunlight.

Repairs: Fix any issues, such as broken laces or loose stitching, promptly to ensure your corset lasts for multiple performances.

Conclusion

Vinyl corset top are more than just a fashion statement—they’re a transformative element that elevates the stage presence of dancers, burlesque performers, and musicians. Their ability to enhance movement, reflect light, and adapt to various styles makes them indispensable for anyone looking to create a memorable performance.

By carefully selecting, styling, and maintaining your vinyl corset, you can ensure it remains a key part of your performance wardrobe, helping you shine brightly and confidently every time you take the stage. Whether you’re performing a sultry burlesque number, executing intricate dance moves, or rocking out to a packed audience, a vinyl corset will have you looking and feeling your best.

[lazyhousecarly]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Vintage Red Patent Leather Ankle Strap Stiletto Heels Pointed Toe Dancing Tango.

[luxuryandsports1]

Marvel Black Panther Air Jordan High Top Sneaker Price From: 99.99 | | [Buy it now at] : https://luxuryandsports.com/product/marvel-black-panther-air-jordan-high-top-sneaker/ ✅http://Luxuryandsports.com https://Facebook.com/luxuryandsports/ https://Pinterest.com/luxuryandsports2022/ ✅https://twitter.com/luxuryandsport2 https://www.instagram.com/luxuryandsports.official/ #Trend #halloween #chirstmas #gift #funny #cool #Sum The Marvel Black Panther Air Jordan High Top Sneaker is not just an ordinary shoe, but a masterpiece that fuses fashion and superheroism. The design of this sneaker encompasses everything you could want in a shoe; comfort, style, durability, and most importantly, the iconic imagery of the Black Panther. This stunning high-top sneaker features sleek black leather accents with patent detailing aro...

[donnnoir]

Labor Day Blues...

I being a bit of a “Traditionalist”, with the advent of Labor Day I must bemoan the annual rite wherein all those cute white patent leather shoes are packed away befitting the season. Fare thee well you tiny heralds of brighter days and springtime past, or to come. Even the white boots once worn by Nancy Sinatra in her music video before its time of “These Boots were made for Walking”. Sigh!...  Oooh well now that that is over, let's get ready for Halloween. Which Witch Shoes are the Haute Couture Fashionista Crones wearing?  

[slashofcrimson]

[evilaccountant]

Ok Bruce's turn :)

1. What is the character’s go-to drink order? Vitamin water or water with a vitamin tablet. Sometimes he'll have a green smoothie but he hates the taste and texture, he's just trying to convince himself that he likes them. He doesn't drink very often as he doesn't like feeling out of it. He likes being in full control of himself, that's why he started learning to fight. He likes a expresso martini if he's at an event or an old fashioned if it's been an especially shitty day.

2. What is their grooming routine? In the early days he didn't have one, barely able to wash his hair, let alone keep himself tidy. After training and becoming the batman though? Meticulous. He starts with a cold shower, karma soap from lush, fancy shampoo, followed by a face moisturiser and a sandalwood body lotion. He shaves most weeks, gets a haircut once every 3 weeks and sometimes treats himself by painting his nails.

3. What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go? It's probably a tie between the Batmobile, restoring his gothic home (it started falling apart after his parents died as Bruce neglected it whilst grieving) and charitable donations. Although he hates being in public he's slowly getting better at masking and even manages to go to one or two charity galas per year (even if he is a total wallflower). Working on the Batmobile has been his pet project for years and he's spent a LOT of money perfecting it. He hyper focuses for hours working on it, to the point where Alfred has to bring him meals. Every little bit must be perfect and Bruce has made an absolutely perfect beast of a car.

4. Do they have any scars or tattoos? He has abundant scars from fighting. Mainly crime fighting. Cuts from bladed weapons, one or two bullet wounds. His hands are cut up from grabbing a sword by the blade once. He's done everything he can to avoid taking blows to the face in an attempt to make sure no one notices that Bruce Wayne and batman have the same face. This has left every other part of his body to take the hits and it shows. I don't think he'd have any tattoos, if only to make his identity less identifiable.

5. What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances? He obviously cried endlessly after his parents death and keeps crying when the mood strikes. He has ptsd and has a variety of triggers but has managed to squash his responses until he can hide away. He sometimes goes quiet mid conversation and just leaves, which hasn't helped his recluse status. He cries when he has panic attacks too. They still happen, just less frequently.

6. Describe the shoes they’re wearing. Patent leather doc martens when he's working in the batcave. He wears tidy black leather loafers when out as a civilian. They're practically brand new, he keeps a few pairs of tidy shoes in rotation. People who pay close attention would notice that he wears them in the same order (loafers, brogues, Chelsea boots) every time because he can't be bothered choosing shoes unless it's a special event. So far only 2 people have noticed.

7. Describe the place where they sleep. A four poster king sized bed made of dark pine, with a deep red velvet canopy. It's warm and cozy with plush pillows and a heavy duvet. The sheets are black cotton with a decorative pattern embroidered on the outside. The room itself is tastefully decorated but sparse, a walk in wardrobe and en-suite on one side of the room and a dark pine vanity and chest of drawers by the window. Although the windows are large, they're usually covered by blackout blinds so bruce can sleep during the day. He sleeps a lot at his desk in the batcave though, especially whilst working a case.

8. What is their favorite holiday? Bruce loves Halloween, it gives him a chance to blend into the crowds and feel normal. He sneaks into parties and wanders through the streets all day and just relaxes for a while. Later in his career as batman he also doesn't mind the occasional masked ball (which allows him to be a little theatrical on the rare occasion he feels like it). In contrast, Bruce hates valentines because the press harasses him about relationships every year and he's sick of it. (Mother's Day and Father's Day are rough for him too but I thought I'd pick a less obvious answer).

9. What objects do they always carry around with them? His keys and phone sit in his pockets alongside the fob for the Batmobile and his wireless noise cancelling headphones. He travels pretty light, maybe carrying an odd piece of Wayne tech when needs be.

[highonchocolate]

Take Two: The Guardian in Gotham Chapter 10

First   Previous   Next: Nonexistent   Ao3

Walking down the hallway, Jason felt his suspicion grow as he recalled the conversation he just had with Marinette. She had been fidgeting while answering his questions, repeated ‘homework’ several times, and given him way too much information when he had asked. All trademark signs of a liar. But why would she lie about having homework? As he mulled over the possibilities, he made his way down to the kitchen where Damian and Tim were (unsurprisingly) arguing. Alfred (surprisingly) was absent, probably doing something in another room. 

Jason thanked whatever power was up there for the small mercy. He didn’t think he could deal with the Alfred Disappointed Stare No. 5 (Trademark and Patent pending) today.

��Hey Demon Brat, Timbers, how’d ya like to do some recon on Pixie?” He called out, enjoying how they both immediately stopped arguing to turn and fix him with incredulous (Tim) and disgusted (Damian) looks. “Have you finally lost your mind, Todd?” Damian asked, fixing him with a derisive stare. 

“Yeah, why would we spy on Mari?” Tim agreed, a puzzled frown on his face. 

“Because she lied to me about doing her homework so that she wouldn’t have to play video games with us.” He responded, regretting it immediately. Only after saying it out loud, did he realize exactly how immature and stupid that sounded.

“Aw, is poor little Jason sad because someone didn’t want to hang out with him?” Tim laughed, tilting his head to the side as if talking to a small child. Next to him, Damian snorted into his cereal, not even bothering to hide his amusement.

“I didn’t mean it like that you little shit, it’s just...suspicious.” He finished lamely, trying to justify his reasoning.

“Besides,” he continued, “if you don’t, I’ll tell Alfred about that time you mixed Mountain Dew and two energy drinks into a large coffee with five shots of espresso just so that you could stay awake long enough to spite B.” 

“Drake you imbecile!” Damian shouted, turning to glare at Tim. “How could you be so vulnerable as to allow him to discover your secrets?!” 

Tim just looked at him in horror, eyes wide in shock. “You wouldn’t.” He gasped.

“Try me fucker!” Jason shot back triumphantly, knowing he’d won.

“Fine.” He groaned, dropping his head onto the table with a thunk. 

“As for you, Gremlin, if you don’t help I’ll show everyone the picture of you wearing your Nightwing pajamas and sleeping with that Batman plushie from three years ago.”

Damian turned his glare from Tim to Jason, the heat of a thousand hells burning in his furious gaze. “How dare you bring that up, Todd!” He snarled, seething with rage. “I will break your shins and use them to cut out your lying tongue!”

Jason simply rolled his eyes, too used to the threats to be bothered.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, brat. Can you just hurry the fuck up?” 

Damian’s glare somehow managed to intensify, but he still got up off his stool and stomped reluctantly over to him. Tim took his time finishing the rest of his coffee before flipping him off out of spite, and then walking over to them as well.

“Alright, so how are we doing this?” He questioned, looking expectantly at Jason.

“I don’t know, Timbers, you’re the genius. You tell us what you think you should do.” He drawled.

Tim glared at him, but refused to respond, brain already whirring as it came up with solutions. “Well vents are definitely out of the question, but I think there might be some secret passages in the manor we can use. We’ll have to look at the blueprints.” He sighed. “Remind me why I'm doing this again?”

“Because, Drake, he has blackmail.” Damian scoffed, still scowling at Jason.

“Yeah well in case you haven’t noticed, I have dirt on you too, kid.” Jason responded, rolling his eyes. 

“And anyway, Drake.” Damian continued, steadfastly ignoring his words. “Your idea is unreasonably complicated. We are dealing with a civilian, and she is incapacitated, so there is no need for you to devise such an intricate plan.” 

“Damn, Demon, you’re making it sound like we’re planning on murdering her after we already tortured her and cut off a limb or some shit. She just has an ankle boot, calm the fuck down.”

“Damian, you do have a point. Her room has a balcony, so if one of us can distract her long enough the other can climb up there and plant a bug in her room. But we’ll have to take it out after we make sure she’s not doing anything suspicious. We can’t just invade her privacy like that.” Tim conceded, contemplating the merit of the younger’s suggestion.

“You say that like we haven’t already hacked her fucking phone and listened to her calls.” Jason snarked back. “But yeah, we should take it back after we check.”

“Alright let us begin, you fools. I have no desire to be under your power any longer than I have to, Todd.”

Tim went to his room to grab one of the listening devices he had stashed there, while Damian and Jason fought over who was going to be the bait. 

“I can’t do it, I already fucking talked to her today, so it’d be suspicious!”

“Well me and Dupain-Cheng are merely acquaintances at best, and besides, I clearly have the more superior skill when it comes to stealth.”

“You little shit! I can totally be stealthy!” 

“The volume at which you are shouting begs to differ.”

“Oh shut the fuck u-”

“Enough!” Tim shouted, having heard their raised voices even before he had rounded the corner. “I’ll be the distraction, Damian’s the ninja, Jason you just listen to the feed since you’re so suspicious of Marinette.” 

“Fine.” Jason grumbled.

“That is an adequate arrangement, Drake.” Damian aquesied, looking as though it physically pained him to make such a statement.

“Whatever.” Tim rolled his eyes, already heading up to Marinette’s room. Damian slipped off in another direction, presumably to make the two-story climb to her balcony, and Jason sat down and opened up the laptop to connect to the live feed from Tim’s listening device. 

---

Tim knocked on Marinette’s door and waited. He heard what sounded like a crash, a thud, and a muffled curse. “You can come in!” She called out, sounded flustered and out of breath.

He opened the door cautiously and stepped in. Her desk chair was lying on the floor and some notebooks were spread out on the ground nearby. It looked as though she had fallen out of her chair when she heard his knock. But why would she be so startled? 

She was looking at him expectantly, and he remembered he was supposed to be distracting her. 

“Oh hey Marinette, I remember you saying last month that you liked to design,” he began, flashing her a faux-hesitant smile. 

“Um yeah, I do like designing. Why?” She questioned, looking at him strangely.

Time to tone up the acting.

“Well, I know it’s already the beginning of October, but I was wondering if you could help me make a couples Halloween costume?” He asked, giving her a sheepish look, and infusing the barest undertone of hope into his voice.

At the mention of costumes, she immediately perked up, looking a bit more invested in what he was saying. 

“Sure! Who’s it for, though?” 

Tim facepalmed mentally, forgetting that she had only been with them for two months, and hadn’t met Kon yet. 

“Oh, it’s for me and my boyfriend, Conner.” He laughed, “I guess it never really came up, but yeah, I’m bisexual and cassgender.”

Marinette smiled blindingly up at him. “So what did you have in mind for your costume?” 

At that, Tim stalled. It wouldn’t exactly hurt to have matching costumes for Halloween, would it? He did have a few ideas, but he didn’t know if Kon would like them. 

He must’ve voiced his thoughts out loud, because Marinette just grinned and said “How about you talk to your boyfriend and see what he has to say about matching costumes, and then I can design something for you?”

Internally, Tim began panicking. Why was he becoming so invested in this bullshit excuse? It’s not like he was actually going to dress up for Halloween. His plans were to eat chocolate covered espresso beans, watch shitty movies with Kon, and then go on patrol until 3 AM and write reports until he passed out from eventual sleep deprivation. Fuck Jason and his stupid suspicions. Now I have to actually put effort into my appearance. Isn’t putting on a suit for meetings at WE enough in the dress up department? Ugh.

But all he said was a quick “Sure! I’ll ask him what he thinks, and let you know.” Before turning and walking back down the hallway. I hope Damian had enough time to put the bug in there. He thought as he plopped down next to Jason on the couch. 

Less than a minute later, Damian was there, a triumphant smirk on his face as he settled in next to them to listen. There was a quiet crackle of static as the mic synched up, and then they were able to hear everything that was going on.

---

After Tim left, Marinette closed the door with a sigh. “Why me?” She sighed, looking over at her fallen desk chair and the scattered notes spread out across her floor. With a grunt, she picked it up and pushed it back over to her desk before bending down and collecting the scattered papers. Walk/hobbling back to her seat, she collapsed into her chair with a groan before turning back to the evil worksheet sitting innocently on her desk. “Fuck math. Who in the world decided we needed to study freaking triangles to pass highschool?!” 

With another sigh, she picked up her pencil and went back to working. 

Not even five minutes later, she slammed her palm down on the table and stood up, cursing creatively in Mandarin. 

“Stupid fucking bitch ass piece of shit! Does it look like I care if sine squared plus cosine squared equals one?! Does it look like I need to leard this stupid shit to become a fashion designer?! Newsflash I don’t, so why the hell do I have to study this absolutely confusing stuff!”

She shouted, glaring furiously at the question she had just come across. “I really, really, really hate math sometimes.” She said, switching back to English. 

Pulling out her phone, she clicked on something before raising it to her ear with an exhausted sob/groan. 

“Hey Buginette, how’s Gotham?” The familiar voice of her best friend/brother greeted her.

“Adrieeeen.” She whined in French. “Help meeeee.”

“Is it Math again?” He laughed, sensing her problem.

“Stop laughing!” She pouted. “It's really hard and I can’t call Max because Max hates me, actually everyone hates me, and now I want to cry, but I don’t have time to cry properly, so can you please just help?” Her eyes began to burn, and she swallowed around the tightness in her chest. “Ignore that. Just...remind me how to do this again?”

“We are coming back to this,” Adrien informed her sternly, “But I’ll let it go for now. So what you want to do is…”

---

Tim shut the laptop lid and glared at Jason reproachfully. “You happy now, Jay? She wasn’t being suspicious, she was actually doing her homework. And now we heard her have a small breakdown over math, and then another one over how her friends hate her. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take that bug back, and go do my work.” And with that he stalked off.

“Tt. Your concerns were unfounded, Todd.” Damian scowled, also getting up. “I am going to feed BatCow.”

Before Jason could reply, he had left, disappearing to go play with his pets. 

Slumping back on the couch cushions, Jason let out an aggravated sigh and ran a rough hand through his hair. There was something strange about Marinette, and whatever it was, he was going to figure it out.

---

@laurcad123, @liquid-luck-00, @toodaloo-kangaroo

[nightcoremoon]

why am I a jerkass who rains on everyone else's parade when I say I don't like gory horror films because I find movies whose plot consists of some dude stabbing a bunch of people to be fucking stupid pointless boring schlock that only exists to stroke the boners of people who enjoy watching other people die vicariously from a good safe distance, especially when their sequels just cheaply kill off all of the survivors from the earlier films thus rendering the plot of the earlier ones L I T E R A L L Y COMPLETELY FUCKING POINTLESS

but when someone says they don't like seeing sexual assault portrayed in movies (valid) and that people who put them in are evil and bad and dumb and bad tasteless artists, everyone is like yes yes good perfect okay you have the correct opinion here have a good star

hey newsflash assholes, if you're watching a fictional movie about a clinical sociopath who butchers animals, beats the absolute shit out of people they don't like until they're crying and shitting their pants and bleeding out the eyes and pleading for mercy, tying a dude to a chair and then slicing his jugular and glaring in his eyes until he bleeds out, bludgeons some guy for no fucking reason until his blood and brain spatters the kitchen floor, stabs his (naked) sister 17 times (after slowly tracing his fingers on her leg no less, ew), stabs a nurse in the neck with a fork and killing her for literally no reason, then a decade and a half later going back to his hometown just to stab a dozen people with ice skates and pitchforks and good old fashioned kitchen knives, and having the film depict this all in graphic bloody detail

and your ONLY problem is that somewhere along the way two disgusting scum workers at an asylum took a brand new catatonic female patient into his room and fucked her until they messed with his masks so he just breaks their fucking skulls open (which define his character as someone who clearly has no compassion for others but will shatter your bones and strangle you just for touching his stuff), and it's that a girl was raped and not that you watched a guy pulverize two men into bloody giblets...

idk man something about that feels wrong. you're okay with watching fictional murder but not fictional rape even though neither are glorified or justified and it exists purely to cause discomfort and distress in the viewer because it's a fucking horror film and horror is supposed to expose you to depravity and as art it serves to comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.

don't get me wrong rape is bad but like

so is fucking murder.

why can't I express my discomfort in society's gratuitous endorsement and desensitization to killing in fictional media without people taking it as a personal attack and then turn around and do the exact same thing to rape

it's a double standard and it's so stupid

you can eat popcorn and watch jason voorhees rip teenagers in half and then berate me for not having a good time bathing in someone else's blood and then in the same breath #cancel rob zombie's director's cut of his halloween reboot because there's a rape scene in it. the violence is okay; you like the violence, no, you love the violence. that's perfectly fine? violence is good. freddy can force a recovering addict to OD on heroin, that's fine. john doe can force a fat guy to eat spaghetti at gunpoint until his fucking intestines burst, that's okay. mark hoffman can lock an innocent woman in a brazen bull and cook her alive just to fridge her and punish her husband for a lie that he made, that's awesome and wonderful and /super cool/. it's bullshit.

I'm not here to say YOU CAN'T like nightmare in elm street. you can like the texas chainsaw massacre. you can like my bloody valentine. you can like the thing. you can like wrong turn. you can like saw. you can DISlike rob zombie's movies. you can fast forward through the rape scenes in halloween, house of 1000 corpses, and the devil's rejects if the scenes make you uncomfortable (as they are intended to do so because it's a fucking grimdark edgy music video inspired horror movie). I'm not here to tell you that YOU CAN'T have an opinion on things.

but it's a special kind of entitled to insinuate that not only is your opinion the divine right of kings and anyone who disagrees with you is wrong and dumb and evil, but that a squicky scene you don't like actively makes the entire film Objectively Bad™.

maybe I don't like the fact that tatum gets crushed in a garage door. maybe it squicks me. maybe it unsettles me. maybe I think that it detracts from the film when all billy had to do was just stab her one and done without making a huge ordeal out of it. maybe I think it only exists to make a spectacle out of death and gorify- sorry, I mean glorify, murder, because it's exciting and intriguing to some who take solace in the macabre. "the effects are cool". maybe I don't like it. but you can like it.

I can dislike it. you can like it. we're both valid. that's how opinions work.

"but people get triggered by rape"

people get triggered by drugs. people get triggered by food. people get triggered by religion. people get triggered by a lot of things. people get triggered by slit throats, strangling, and hanging. you're valid for your triggers and you can avoid whatever fucking content you wish but if you think only your very particular specific trigger is the one that's valid, screw everyone else? go fuck yourself. you selfish piece of shit. you're not the only person in the world. it isn't hard to respect that you're not the only worldview in the world.

but then again, maybe it is hard, considering nobody fucking does it. everyone's trapped in their own little world where they're the only one who matters. they don't give a single shit about anyone else but themselves and others they can project onto because they're similar. they don't care if you can't match them in any way. you're a freak if you're different and you don't matter.

never mind the fact that 90% of slasher horror is misogynist, ephebophilic, racist, exploitative of the mentally ill and physically deformed, in some cases appropriations of the non-christian religions, and in the other 10% it's actually a horror comedy.

but if a white girl is sexually assaulted that's the only time anyone bothers being compassionate

now a disclaimer because I know for a fact that people are gonna put words in my mouth and take shit out of context and point out things I didn't explicitly state outright and try to make me out to be some fucking evil boogeyman

not saying you SHOULDN'T be compassionate to rape victims and I'm not saying I personally enjoy rape scenes in movies and I'm not saying that I particularly like the inclusion of those scenes in those movies and there is certainly a conversation to be had on the very misogynist nature of hollywood cinema as a whole in the horror genre especially and we should keep in mind the thermian argument and it's a complex issue, I know I know I know so shut the fuck up I don't owe you a passing grade on clout or the semantics of discourse or virtue signaling.

it's just stupid that people only get upset if a fictional white girl gets raped in a gore porn movie when it ~doesn't suit the narrative~. ok, this is the narrative: scary man stabs, the end.

scary men stab all the time. scary men shoot. scary men suicide bomb. scary men patent insulin and sell it at an upcharge poor diabetics can't afford. scary men drop bombs on kids in syria. scary men put mexicans in concentration camps. scary men slaughter thousands of men and women for their religion or their sexuality or their skin color. scary men do a lot of bad shit. your silence on these issues does much more harm to society than *checks notes* a scary movie about bad people doing bad things and facing karmic retribution for it.

TL;DR rape is bad, and murder is also bad, and american horror films have 100s of problems, and people need to start voicing their opinions as opinions and not pretending they're facts because it's super fucking annoying

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/4/2020: SOCIETY

Without having a survey to back me up, I feel comfortable asserting that as a horror fan, you go through different phases with SOCIETY. It’s a basic fact of life, and yet it morphs and mutates underneath you, shocking you anew just when you think you’ve got a grip on it. You never forget your first time, because there is simply nothing like it. Then, after you get over the initial shock of its patented brand of body horror, you start to take it for granted; it's so broad and monolithic that it becomes something like the Grand Canyon--when it’s not right there in front of you, you begin to experience it more iconically, as part of the wallpaper of existence, rather than an in-your-face confrontation with the limits of experience. Then, you revisit it every few years (or months, depending on what sort of person you are), and the prophylactic layer that your brain has wrapped around your memories of it--the one that allows you to think of SOCIETY as a fun, wacky cheap thrill--begins to crumble, and you realize all over again how iconoclastically vile it is. Wherever you happen to be at, with this inimitable genre landmark, you'd be hard pressed to deny that it earns its royal status among horror movies, just for being so uniquely fucked up.

Filmmaker Brian Yuzna is best known as the co-creator of the indispensable RE-ANIMATOR (or as the co-writer of HONEY, I SHRUNK THE KIDS...depending on what sort of person you are, again), itself a milestone achievement in the blending of sex and gore that so characterized '80s horror production. That film clearly brought out the best in Yuzna and frequent collaborator Stuart Gordon (also of HONEY, I SHRUNK THE KIDS fame...among other things), but it's interesting to see how they operate apart, to understand the unique ingredients that each filmmaker brought to the more perfect union of their classic Lovecraft adaptation. Gordon skewed darker and more intellectual, as evidenced by the end of his career with the shattering mob thriller KING OF THE ANTS, the disturbing true crime drama STUCK, and the Mamet-penned EDMOND. Yuzna, for his part, is almost anti-intellectual, preferring to cook up blackly comic, semi-pornographic nightmares like his two increasingly horny RE-ANIMATOR sequels, the terminal S&M fantasy RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD 3, and the shamelessly hokey comic book adaptation FAUST: LOVE OF THE DAMNED. Yuzna's lack of shame is really his defining feature as an artist, and nowhere is this more obvious than in his directorial debut and signature masterpiece, SOCIETY.

Salvador Dali's "The Great Masturbator," a chief visual inspiration for SOCIETY.

Yuzna was able to leverage the success of RE-ANIMATOR to lock in two directorial opportunities, BRIDE OF RE-ANIMATOR, and a bizarre body horror exercise about a Beverly Hills orphan who discovers that not only are his adoptive family from a different bloodline, but they're not even from the same species. That both pictures employed the writing team of Woody Keith and Rick Fry gives you a little taste of what to expect from SOCIETY, but to be frank, the latter threatens to make the former look like a very special episode of ER; "overkill" barely begins to describe SOCIETY’s ambitious assault on the human body. In a recent interview, the philipino-american director giggles perversely, "I think my friends were a little embarrassed for me (when they saw SOCIETY)," and this sound bite reminded me that the last, most important ingredient that Yuzna contributes to any project is unabashed joy. It's a little hard to imagine stomaching SOCIETY without it.

In this unusual scene from the class struggle in Beverly Hills, Billy Warlock (son of HALLOWEEN 2's Michael Myers, Dick Warlock) plays Bill Whitney, a rich, handsome, athletic high school student with a heavy duty anxiety disorder. Although he appears to have it all, he is plagued by nightmares and hallucinations, reflecting suspicions that the family that spoils him is also out to get him. Perhaps this is all understandable, though. Bill is under a lot of pressure these days, with his parents devoting all of their attention to his sister's coming out party, and his narcissistic girlfriend pushing him to ingratiate himself to the assholes higher up the social ladder; it's enough to make any teenager feel alienated and insecure. But, do these garden variety anxieties account for his visions of his sister's body deforming itself unnaturally, or the dubious evidence he finds that her debutante ball involves incestuous orgies and human sacrifice? Is Bill simply crumbling under the strain of societal expectations, or is the friction with his shrink, his parents, and his peers all symptomatic of an elaborate plot against him by elites who are truly less than human?

I can’t believe they use this cheapo blanket trick MORE THAN ONCE in a movie that is famous for its unforgettable special effects, and I guess I kind of love it.

In case I haven't made the answer abundantly obvious, I'll add that while SOCIETY is the purest expression of Yuzna-ness on the market, it has an important co-author in Screaming Mad George. The eccentric japanese FX master, whose name is apparently an amalgamation of Mad Magazine, Screamin' Jay Hawkins, and...George, has produced some of horror's most outrageous makeup and visual effects, mostly for Yuzna, many of them in SOCIETY. If you've seen even a trailer for Alex Winter's 1993 oddity FREAKED--which is itself a grossout criticism of American social standards--then you are already familiar with SMG's trademark style. He specializes in twisted perversions of the human form that would make a cenobite blush, driven by a penchant for puns, and influenced equally by THE THING's Rob Botin, and Big Daddy Roth’s Rat Fink style. Screaming Mad George is instrumental in articulating Yuzna's premise: that behind the shimmering veneer of success and sophistication, the upper class are just a bunch of degenerates, who literally degenerate into something unimaginable behind closed doors. It's impossible to imagine SOCIETY without his sinuous, slithering monstrosities, or his indescribable realization of their most important social event, "the shunt".

One of many great images from a zine I wish I owned, on SMG’s Facebook page.

It's easy to get overwhelmed by SOCIETY's visual impact, but its message is just as potent now as it was at the end of the Reagan era: Rich people are not only different from the rest of us, but in fact, they aren't even human. Writers Keith and Fry make an interesting choice of hero to help put this across. A lazier writer would have selected any archetype from the Freaks and Geeks set to create an easy Us vs Them tension, but SOCIETY is led by a promising young man who, for reasons he himself does not yet understand, is just not "the right kind of people". Bill appears to have every advantage in life, including a level of popularity that wins him presidency of the debate team despite his nerdier rival’s superior prowess--and yet, he suffers from a stigmatizing psychiatric disorder that is the natural result of feeling indefinably different from one's peers, and intuiting that, as a consequence, they don't even really like you. The shallow jock with deep-seated emotional problems is a much more interesting protagonist for this kind of social allegory than the charismatic outcasts that you get in movies like THE FACULTY and DISTURBING BEHAVIOR, for whom the idea that the elites could be aliens is just de rigueur.

It's worth noting that this complexity of character extends to Bill's love interest, sympathetic society girl Clarissa Carlyn (Playboy Playmate Devin DeVasquez). At first, she seems villainously eager to introduce Bill to the many splendors of "the shunting", but as the plot against him mounts to its horrifying conclusion, she defects. There appears to be a reason for this, although honestly, this is the most difficult part of SOCIETY for me to wrap my head around. Clarissa lives as an essentially independent adult, only burdened by her mother (Pamela Matheson), a possibly brain damaged hulk who lurks in and out of various scenes just to be disturbing, always announced by some toots on a tuba, before eventually siding with our heroes. I'm really not sure what's supposed to be going on in this part of the movie, except that this character contributes to a number of distasteful jokes. But, I hold on to the idea that by virtue of whatever disorder Mrs. Carlyn suffers from, she serves the purpose of priming Clarissa to rebel, since her very existence makes her daughter something of a societal outcast herself. That's the best I can do.

In any case, everyone working on SOCIETY commits completely, with Mrs. Carlyn being no exception. The movie's climactic orgy of the damned is an all hands on deck operation, just as reliant on Screaming Mad George's artistic abilities as it is on the actors' responsibility to make you believe that this fucked up shit is really happening. There's a visceral patina of sleaze spread over the entire film, dripping from the way that characters talk to and touch each other, flirting and flaunting their bodies in a distinctly unseemly fashion, even when it stays within the realm of mundane reality. This constant sinister, insinuating attitude on the part of the whole cast lays the foundation for what is to come, and while I appreciate everybody's hard work, my favorite performance is from an actor who only comes in at the very end: David Wiley as society king Judge Carter. Wiley's career consisted almost exclusively of the most ordinary sort of television work, which makes his outrageous turn in this alien porno flick all the more respectable. While other characters transition from suspicious pod people to full-on mutated perverts, Judge Carter has to show up just for the finale, establish his authority, rip off his clothes, and plunge straight into a sea of slime, happily fisting his way through the cast. Wiley meets this challenge with aplomb, making of himself a hybrid of Robert Englund and Gene Hackman, perfectly embodying the movie's joyful absurdity, and never betraying the slightest hint of embarrassment. 

SOCIETY is very much a don't-look-down type of endeavor, a fairy that could expire at the slightest lapse in faith. There's a visual pun in the last act that's so gross, so offensive, so frankly idiotic, that I don't have the courage to describe it; my whole body tenses up when I know this scene is coming, as if it were the meat hook scene in TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE or the brutal rape in the middle of SHOWGIRLS. I don't like it, but at the same time, I respect Yuzna's unhesitating commitment to show it to me, and I think that actor Charles Lucia should get some kind of award for shouldering the burden so valiantly. SOCIETY is a daring movie in the truest sense, a film with more balls than brains, and in this it exposes the limitation of intelligence and taste, and the real need for pure transgression, in producing art of any real value. You might argue with me about whether Yuzna's masturbatory magnum opus really qualifies as art, but to respond to that, I'll quote the great transgressor Alejandro Jodorowsky: "If you are great, EL TOPO is a great picture. If you are limited, EL TOPO is limited." So stick that in your shunt and smoke it.

PS Here, have this stuck in your head for the rest of your life.

[lions-arch-chronicle]

Issue 11

Image ID under the cut

Title: Fall into these Autumnal Events Across Tyria

Story: There is a chill in the air across Tyria and no it’s not from the elder dragon. Fall is on the horizon and we have our top five recommendations for the best fall activities to do all around Tyria.5.  Enjoy the Ghosts in Ascalon Now this one is at the bottom of the list but if you want the true Mad King experience then you should go full spooky and spend some quality time with your ghostly human ancestors who may or may not stab you. Perfect for setting the mood for the fall season, maybe not ideal for your health.4.  Go Sugar Pumpkin Picking in Rusty Meadows Take a nice trip up to the Blood Legion homelands and stop by Rusty Meadows to do some good old fashioned pumpkin picking! Nothing says fall like choosing the perfect pumpkin while avoiding the ire of Erasmus Fangstorm.3. Meatoberfest A classic year-round event that seems more fitting in the fall months for some reason, join in on some charr festivities. Eat, drink, and be merry while sampling some of the best meat and drink that the charr has to offer. Since the event is year-round there isn’t really a rush to plan your trip so visit at your leisure.2. Eda’s Orchard Take some time to visit sweet little Eda and her Orchard in Shaemoor Fields where you can wander about picking apples and crushing invasive spiders to your heart’s content! Who knows Eda might just give you her elusive apple pie recipe for your troubles. 1.  Halloween and Shadow of the Mad King Who could overlook the best of the fall events, where our lovely Mad King returns to torment and reward us with more candy than we know what to do within a single year. Make sure to plan ahead for this event so you don’t miss any events since there are things to do all over Tyria to welcome our Mad King back.

Title: Kuritata’s Fashion Review: more shiny plants!!!!!!!

Story:  Skritt sees that more shiny plants have shown their faces to skritt. The Pale Tree in the grove place must also enjoy shiny things like skritt do. This plant is less shiny than others skritt has seen but still good. The weapons you have are very shiny shiny and you seem like you could protect skritt and their shinies. Very soft wings on this one too. Could you fly skritt somewhere with more shinies? Your colors are all matchy matchy which skritt enjoys lots. Overall a very strong shiny outfit with a plant lady who looks like she would protect skritt really well 11/10Want an outfit you’ve put together to be reviewed by Kuritata? Submit pictures to us at :https://lions-arch-chronicle.tumblr.com/submit

Title: Sights to see in Amnoon: Three Pals of Crystal Oasis

Story: So I’ve recently had the opportunity to tour the Crystal Oasis and it was a glorious, although very dry and sandy, experience. In my travels I happened upon something peculiar. At first I noticed a small lion cub walking in the wilderness without any other lions around. Further investigation made me happen upon the lion cub’s pals! He was hanging out with a warthog and a meerkat! It was amazing! These animals which were usually the prey of the lion seemed to be raising him! It even seemed as though they may have been singing, in their own way of course. It’s amazing to me that no one has done a documentary or a movie on these three! I bet it’d even be glorious as an animated film! Quick someone get right on this! I’m sure it will make box offices soar! It’d probably make at least 968 million! I’d certainly see it! But alas if such doesn’t happen I definitely recommend a trip to the Crystal Oasis to try and catch a glimpse of the unlikely trio!

Title: The Boasting Hall: Test Subject Request

Story: I have been informed that this method may be my last hope in obtaining willing test subjects for my newest innovation in golem technology.  I have written in today to this humble newspaper to request some willing test subjects for my HUGME-series of golems. It should be noted that they have been previously referred to as “A critical danger to our establishment.” But do not be afraid all golems have some quirks and that’s where you would come in! I need lab assistants that are mildly strangle proof in order to work out these quirks in my HUGME-909 golem. It is an extraordinary display of mechanical engineering and I need to be able to prove it and obtain my patent. I can confirm a 67% of potential strangulation but I believe that these are good odds for the sake of progress. All volunteers should report ASAP to the College of Dynamics and be ready to sign liability waivers.

Title: Sylvari Tips: How to avoid fungal rot in your foliage

Story: Recent requests from menders and healers within the grove have prompted us to write this helpful PSA for adventuring Sylvari who may not have time to return back to the Grove for mild treatments of mold growth in your hair foliage so it doesn’t spread and cause other irreversible problems. MushroomsMushrooms can sometimes pop up from spending a large amount of time in warm, humid climes from spores in the soil mix, the air, or transfered from clothes and armor. These mushrooms are most commonly of the small yellow variety, and are completely harmless to your hair and skin. So if you don’t mind their presence, you can just leave them alone! If you would like to avoid mushroom growth spend more time out in the sun and be sure to clean off as often as possible.Sooty Mold A black fungus that grows from clear honeydew secretions left by pests like scale, whitefly, and aphids. Sooty mold can take hold in dry, stagnant air. Because sooty mold covers leaf surfaces, blocking sunlight and interfering with photosynthesis, it can cause stunted growth and leaf drop in houseplants. To avoid or treat this type of mold obtain some form of oil to treat the affected areas, trim back any problem areas and wash the soot from your leaves as well as possible and seek healer treatment if the problem worsens. Leaf Spots Spotted leaves can occur when spores in the air find a warm, wet leaf to stick to. The spore digs in and forms a small bump on the leaf which the leaf spot will then expand from. Caused by any number of species of fungi, fungal leaf spots can be yellow, tan, brown/reddish or black spots, sometimes with a yellow rim, in irregular circular shapes that can grow and merge to form larger lesions on leaves. If left untreated, fungal leaf spots can grow to cover the entire leaf and spread to stems and branches. To treat this issue you may want to purchase a hat as you will need to remove most foliage and take a trip to a nice temperate dry location to let yourself heal and recover. Adventuring in the world and learning is wonderful but make sure to take care of your and your leaves as you travel about Tyria.

[luggageandbags]

HALLOWEEN 2020 NOT NECESSARILY IN THIS ORDER! DRAWSTRING BAG - Customizable, Durable Luggage Designs

Buy This Design Here: HALLOWEEN 2020 NOT NECESSARILY IN THIS ORDER! DRAWSTRING BAG Created by Fashion Designer: Big_BazarInG_Stor3 This HALLOWEEN 2020 NOT NECESSARILY IN THIS ORDER! DRAWSTRING BAG design can be further customized in the marketplace, to make it uniquely yours! Size & Product Information for Adult Backpacks: Mix and match your mood to your style! Introducing the first line of custom printed backpacks with exchangeable and customizable front “faces" from Boldface! A rugged backpack that allows you to easily change the face to fit the whatever style you want to sport! - Dimensions: 17"h x 13"w x 6"d - Front flap of backpack easily swaps out in seconds. Pull one face off and put another face on while keeping the same backpack - Quality, rugged polyester canvas exterior is weatherproof, durable and built to last - Vibrant sublimation printing allows for your images to pop - Roomy main compartment, large zippered front pocket, and convenient side pockets matches your active lifestyle - Built-in laptop sleeve; fits most laptops up to 17" - Comfortable wide padded shoulder straps - Printed in Redondo Beach, CA, USA Size & Product Information for Drawstring Backpacks: Get ready for the adventure of a lifetime when you stuff your go-to gadgets in this trusty cinch backpack from Slazenger. Featuring two pockets and dual water bottle holders, From the gym to casual hikes, it's the perfect bag! - Bag Dimensions: 15" (w) by 19"(l) - Quality construction features sport diamond poly design. - Dual mesh side pockets hold your drinks so you can keep your hands free. - Front pocket has Velcro closure, back pocket has cinch closure. - Lightweight and durable. Size & Product Information for Nike Performance Backpacks: The Nike Performance backpack is made with durable, water-resistant fabric to safely store essentials. Multiple pockets provide excellent organization and easy access to important items, while the adjustable straps with Max Air cushioning let you carry your gear in cushioned comfort. - Dimension: 13.25"w x 18.25"h x 5"d - Printed using Zazzle's patent-pending fuZe technology - Internal laptop sleeve (fits most 17" laptops) and cord pocket to keep computer and accessories stored safely and securely. - Tablet sleeve storage, dimensions: 9.5"(h) x 8.75"(w) - Dual zip main closure, front zippered pockets with organization panel - Organizer pocket and quick-access magazine pocket - Side-mesh pockets for easy storage - Designer Tip: To ensure the highest quality print, please note that this product’s customizable design area measures 5" x 6". - This product is recommended for ages 13+

[angstchim]

Divine Canvas | kth

Painter Taehyung x Reader 

➻ Oneshot

➻ Inspired by Meddle About - Chase Atlantic 

➻ Words: 6142

➻ Rating: M 

➻ !!: SMUT, language,  Paint play? Is that a thing? I'm making it a thing, Dirty talk, Casual Sex, Sex in public, Teacher/student but not what you expect, some peer pressure? Unprotected Sex, Comedy, Crack but not crack?  

Summary: Lisa is your best friend. She’s a little eccentric and impulsive at times and when she deems you a bore.  She makes a few arrangements. She has you take a single art class, alone, one on one with the handsome instructor. Whom specializes in a unique kind of art.  

Preview

"Which is better? Watercolor or acrylic?" Your eyes going back and forth from the watercolor palettes, and acrylic paint bottles. Hand on your hip, eyes focused, waiting for the feedback of your dear friend. Popular music blaring over the intercom, aisles of the craft store empty.

"Only you would find going to a craft store fun!" Lisa gripes, the blonde, busy tapping away on her phone, dressed in clothes more suited for a shopping spree, her crop top and shorts contrasting greatly from your baggy pants and an oversized sweater.

"Watercolor or acrylic?" Voice monotonous, used to her complaints, eyes bouncing from the watercolor, to the acrylics, and back to the watercolors. "Y/n, you know I can't even paint, the only painting I do is wiping my Cheeto dust fingers on your walls." Her gripes coming off in a breathy tone, leg outstretched, her arms crossed over her chest, head tilted staring at you.

"You're a little bitch for that. Next time you do that I'm making you lick that crusty shit off the wall. Now, Acrylic or Watercolor?" Your voice stern, eyes shooting bullets at the blonde.

"Oof, that's kinky, and watercolor I guess?" Grabbing a watercolor palette, "Alright let's go ya weirdo." Letting out a sigh, paying and exiting the store, making your way over to the mall, Lisa at your side, griping and complaining about how boring of a person you are. "Spice it up hun, you wear the same brand my grandpa does!! This is 2018, and my best friend is not going to have some boring maiden's tale." Her voice a little loud, her manicured hands flying through the racks as she hangs clothes on her arm. "I'm not a grandpa.." Your voice unconvincing, your plain nails grazing the soft fabrics, eyes glossing over clothes you'd never reach for yourself.

"Tell ya what hun? I'm going to set you up a little art class. One on One, I heard the teacher is a god among men and since getting you to go to a party is like baptizing a cat, I think you won't mind spending time at an art class. Doing something you enjoy." Lisa's voice carrying a loving tone, "One exception though.." an evil grin on her face, "You have to wear an outfit I pick out."

Eyes rolling to the back of your head, a soft huff leaving your chest, "I could just say no and it won't happen, but fine, just this once. If it gets you to stop wiping Cheeto dust on my walls."

Lisa's lighthearted chuckles filling the store, "Go for me and I swear my stubby little fingers will never smear Cheeto dust on those walls ever again." You smirked, "Done deal then." Eyes looking at the pile of clothes weighing down her arm. "What the hell? Is all this for me?" A mischievous glint in the blonde's eyes, "Maybe, we have lot's of outfits to go through before I let you go to that class." Heart sinking, your inner grandpa coming out. "I'm too old for this shit, my bones pop you know? Do you know how much bending this shit takes?!" Looking at her ludicrously.

"Boohoo whore, do you know much bending I do when I get laid?"Lisa mocks, swiping her blonde hair over her shoulder, picking out a skirt and top for you. Sending her a glare, "No because I'm a child of God." Lisa's eyes narrowing at you, "Because I'm a child of God!!" She mocks in an incredulous voice that's supposed to be yours, "I've seen the shit you look up Boo, you aren't innocent, far from it." Her lips smacking while she picks out shoes for you, your eyes burning holes into the back of her perfect head, "How so?"

Her dark browns staring into you, "Hun, you were looking up the ovipositor toy. We both know that's like some kinky shit that not even 50 shades touched upon." Your cheeks a flaming scarlet, "Why are you using that against me? How many times do I need to explain that Namjoon is the reason I ever made that Google search!! We both know that when it comes to Namjoon we don't question it!" Your whines and pleas to justify yourself falling upon Lisa's deaf ears.

"Yeah, Yeah Hun." Her voice carrying humor, satisfied with her finds, shoving the articles of clothing your way, "Go try those on for me okay?" Sighs of annoyance escaping you but you listened, hailing down a clerk, you got a room and tried on the outfit. Your eyes traveling over your form in the skirt and top, cheeks a dusty pink. You looked so different, you looked..good. Way better than your usual grandpa ensemble. As much as you wanted to not like the outfit you couldn't just ignore Lisa's exceptional taste. She might be a brat who wipes her Cheeto dust fingers on your walls but at least her majoring in fashion isn't just for clout.

Lisa standing outside the door of the dressing room. "I'm taking the silence as 'Oh Lisa my dear best friend you make me look sooo good!" Her incredulous voice she uses to mock you making an appearance again. The scratchy and high pitched voice piercing the walls of the dressing room, making your insides crawl. "You know Lisa? I was going to say just that, but fuck you." Your voice lighthearted, giggles escaping you. "Awe thanks Boo." Her comment sounding scarily genuine.

**

stop by my house before we go out for coffee <=====3

Eyes glossing over the message you received from Namjoon, a reluctant sigh leaving your lips. Going to Namjoon's house was always a risky business, you never knew what you were getting. Namjoon is viewed by many as the sophisticated psychology major he is, but when he's around you he shoves his 4.0 up his ass and all his brain cells disintegrate. Feet lugging their way up the steps to Namjoon's dorm, light-handed knocks hitting his door. Blood turning cold when the door opens to reveal a figure in a patent leather suit, face entirely covered in the black material, eyes being the only thing visible.

A loud shriek escaping you. "Wrong dorm!! I-I'll go elsewhere" voice shaky, feet unresponsive, frozen in place when the figure abruptly grabs your arms tugging you inside, your shrill cries becoming louder and louder. Fear filling your being, "Shut Up!" A deep, muffled voice erupting from the mask, this only made you cry out louder. "Shut up!! You're  going to make people think I'm hurting you!" A familiar voice coming from under the mask. Kicking the door shut with his leg, peeling the mask from his face to reveal none other than Namjoon.

Eyes drilling into him, bringing your hand to his head you gave him a good swat, making sure he felt it. "The fuck was that about you lunatic?! You trying to kill me ?! Fuck this, the cafe date is canceled !" The larger male looking down at you, his face trying to conceal his amusement, your glare doing nothing to diminish his spirits. His long arms blocking your futile attempts to swat him. "Relax, I didn't mean to scare you."  Scowling, "Didn't mean to scare you." Voice dropping down an octave so you could mock him. His coffee browns narrowing at you, "I don't sound like that."  Shrugging, giving him one last swat, "What's the kinky suit for?"

Your small hands roaming free over the leather on his firm chest, "Remember the first season of American Horror Story?" A smirk on his face as looks down at your hands on his chest. "Murder House?" Eyes narrowing as you peered into the older's eyes, "Yes Murder House, remember the suit ?" You let out a sigh, "Yeah, I remember the creepy gimp suit."

"Tada!" His voice light, fingers wiggling as he gave jazz hands. "Why?" He set his large hand atop your head, "Halloween, and maybe some other stuff." Voice deepening to a sultry tone, giving a flirtatious wink. "Joon,  I swear if you go chasing the freshmen around in a gimp suit.." you began. "Nothing's wrong with chasing the freshmen." He shrugged. "I can't believe you're a psychology major..." Namjoon  letting out a humored sigh, " Only you see me like this." The taller dipping down, nuzzling his nose against yours in an Eskimo kiss. "I'm gonna peel this thing off me, it really sticks to the body."

"It's a bondage suit, that's the point." Letting out a sigh, eyes trailing over his body, The suit sticking to every muscle and joint on the man. "Checking me out over there?" Eyes rolling to the back of your head, "As if."

"Ow, so cruel." The older fakes hurt, heading off to his room changing. Being fairly familiar with Namjoon's apartment it takes very little for you to already be slouching on his couch, finding a random hentai novel laying nearby. "He doesn't even attempt to hide his porn...we love a queen." You muttered to yourself. The anime girl on the cover sparsely covered, slimy appendages which you can only assume are tentacles spread her legs open revealing her...special parts. Joon walking out in shaggy brown pants with a matching large shirt, strapped sandals on his feet.  "Good book isn't it?"

"Riveting." Getting up from the couch, "Ready Bud?" Gathering your belongings heading to his entryway, "Yeah, let's get going." Grabbing his wallet the two of you exiting his apartment. "Do you know it took a whole bottle of lube to get into that suit?" You let out a sigh, "Did I need to know?"

**  

"So what's this art class you're me telling about?" His deep voice slightly muffled as he took a sip of his ice coffee. His messy locks framing his face, dimples slightly moving as he sucks on his straw. "Lisa wants to dress me up for this art class, she said I'm boring and maybe an art class will make my life exciting since I don't go to parties." The bitter taste of coffee on your tongue, fingers busy picking flakes of your croissant. "She's not wrong about you being a bore, but what kind of art class is? This seems a little strange." His thumbs gliding along the screen of his phone as he typed up an essay for his psychology class.  "She said it was a one on one painting class with this guy named Kim...Kim Taehyung? I think?"

"One on One?" his eyebrow-raising, taking an obnoxious sip of his coffee. "They offer those? And who did you say the teacher was?"

Finger flaking the croissant, "Apparently they do and Kim Taehyung why?"

"I've heard that name before." His voice nonchalant and cool. "Kim Taehyung. You recognize the name or not Namjoon?" Your groan evident in the cafe. The darker haired male, rubbing his chin like a philosophical thinker from Ancient Greece, "Hush, I recognize the name. Used to go to high school with em." His voice blunt. Eyes narrowing, "That's it? That's all you remember about the guy?"

Namjoon's dark eyes staring into you boredly, "I mean the guy didn't stick out much, he liked to paint so I don't see it as a surprise that he's an art teacher.." His voice trailing off, "however I remember one strange rumor about him." The larger male leaning closer, whispering in your ear, suspense building the longer you waited for an answer. Joon's husky voice tickling your lobe, "He was pretty popular with the girls, quiet guy, probably a hipster, he made his rounds though, heard he's packing."

Your face stretching into one of disgust, "Really Joon? Really?" Your voice void of emotion, "I ask you for some useful information but all you do is make me regret my friendship with you." Eyes narrowed, growling at the male.

The older laughing, "He's packing, maybe he can raw your ass all the way to P. Sherman 42 Wallaby Way Sydney."

"...Joon.."

The older scrunching his nose in amusement, "Alright, Alright, well I honestly don't remember much about him, he was an underclassman so I didn't really talk to him, I remember all the girls in my grade raved about him, talking about how he seemed so aloof and innocent but in reality he was just a playboy disguised as a prince. I mean he gave off good boy vibes, he was in in a few of my classes, advanced placement and he stuck to himself, he was chill when you asked him something." He took another sip, " That's all I can offer toots."

Nibbling on your croissant, "He doesn't seem too interesting, well the class is later on tonight. Might as well get it over with so Lisa stops badgering me. Also, don't call me toots."

The older letting out a groan, " I need a nickname for you. I hate calling you by your name all the time. I'm special." You watched the older pout, his dimples moving as he sucked on his straw again.  "Who said you were special?" He shot you a glare, "Alright fine, but why Toots?"

"Short for Toostie roll." Smacking your lips, "I don't like tootsie rolls though.." His long digit flicking your nose, "Buttercup then?" You smirked, "Nice to see you use that brain of yours."

"You could've just said yes." He sighed, going back to writing his essay on his phone. "You could've  just said buttercup, you know that's my nickname Joon.." Voice muffled as you took another bite of your croissant.

"So mean buttercup.." He pouts, eyes looking down at his phone screen while he wrote his essay last minute. "So whiny Joon.." You mocked.

**

Hair damp, your breath light, eyes peering into the mirror as you slathered on your favorite lemon-scented lotion, hands running over the soft, supple flesh of your arms, legs, and thighs. The cold cream slathering over the mounds of flesh on your chest making your nipples pert, music blaring from your phone's speakers. Sliding on the skirt, and top Lisa picked, hair lightly styled you looked in the mirror. Staring back at you was a new you, a more put together you.  Cheeks cherry tinted, you gave a twirl, grabbing your bags, slipping on ankle boots. You took off.  

Skipping to the train station. Your steps light, canvas in hand, eyes reading over the address to the studio while you walked. "Block 42..1st floor?" Bottom lip victim to your teeth's gnawing as you searched for said building. Eyes roaming over the minimalist buildings surrounding you, a small window with a lovely canvas sitting on its sill, catching your eye.  The color red emphasized in the painting,  a red lycoris caught between the lips of a distorted but angelic looking male. You looked in awe at the canvas sitting in that small window, the colors, the brush strokes, the details. It was captivating.

A soft pair of almond eyes watching you, wispy red hair obscuring his vision of you, loose cardigan wrapped around his slim frame, black pants hanging loosely from his toned legs. Long arms crossed, a gentle smirk stretching across the painter's face. "It's a neat painting isn't it?"

A deep, suave voice ripping your eyes from the canvas in the window. Eyes gliding over the ethereal face of whom you believed to be your teacher for the evening.  "Did you paint it ?" Gulping slightly, shivering, looking at the male.

"That I did." His nose scrunching a little while he let out a chuckle. His long delicate digits waving you close, "Come inside, I take it you are my last class for tonight" His voice deep, his thin pinks pulling into a smile. "Yeah that's me" voice light, taking timid steps inside the toasty studio, Leonardo Da Vinci paintings bordering the entry of the studio, statues and abstract art decorating the walls. "This place is ..." Awe in your voice, eyes wandering over the room. "Amazing..?" He finished your sentence, deep purrs erupting from his chest as he closed the door to the studio. His gentle footsteps heading over to the sink, washing brushes, grabbing fresh canvases. "It's more than amazing." Taking a seat, excited for the lesson, "What will we be doing today? Watercolor, acrylic, will we even be painting?"

The redhead setting down the canvases, along with two sheets of scrap paper and pencils. "You're eager and I want to try something new." His dark almonds boring into you while he set down bottles of body paint. "Can I use you as a canvas"  Your eyebrow-raising, "Use me...as a canvas?" His cedar wood scent more prevalent the closer he leaned his face to yours.  Your cheeks a bright crimson, his breath tickling your lips as he pulls away, pencil in his hand. "I want to sketch out a design and paint it on you. I'd like to post it on my social media, you can say no of course."  No pressure in his voice.

Your timid eyes meeting his, his brown almonds looking over the supple flesh of your thighs. Your skirt letting his eyes ravish your thighs, his looks lingering.  "Where do you want to paint.?" Your cherry cheeks and timid eyes looking into his. "Your thighs, if you don't mind?" His deep voice trickling off the walls of the studio. You felt as if you could roll in it, his deep soothing voice calming your nerves. "My thighs?" A little surge of confidence running through your veins. "You'd let me?" His tone curious. Lisa's voice ringing in your ears, her snooty voice saying bore. "Might as well." Voice confident, only to spite the imaginary Lisa that was whispering in your ear, reminding you of how much of a bore you were. "Lift your skirt a little for me darling, let me  map this out." His deep voice letting out a subtle grunt.

His large hands holding the paper up to your thigh for size, a soft hum rumbling from his throat. Cheeks cherry tinted, his soft hands grazing the skin of your thighs, his bottom lip ensnared in his teeth while he worked, his pencil tickling you as it's tip drew out curves and points on the paper. His eyes wandering from the papers every now and then as he caught a glimpse of your mesh panties. The fabric did little to conceal your pink nub from his peripheral, his steady hands working as he continued to map out an intricate galaxy design on the scrap piece of paper, his almond eyes a shade darker.  

Marker in hand he begins sketching out his design, tongue swabbing the inside of his cheek while he worked. His clement, fluid hands brushing against you. The felt tip marker ticking your sensitive skin. His eyes every now and then staring at your twitching nub. "Your skin is really soft you know?" A small hiccup erupting from you, "..No?" Deep chuckles erupting from his chest, "Cute." His messy sketch finished, his almonds focused on the array of body paints on the table. "Mhm, tell me little Dove. What color palette suits you?" His fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt, "Warm?" Smirk on his face, "Cool?" His breath ticking your chin as he looked up at you, "or a nice Pastel?" His fingers tentatively inching further and further up your thigh.

Breath hitching, your eyes traveling down his loose blouse to his sun-kissed torso, a smirk on his face, "Like what you see?" Face crimson, "I do." His finger pushing your skirt up, a gentle flick to your clit. "I like what I'm seeing too." His voice deep, hand grabbing a bottle and paint brush. "I think pastels suit you best little Dove."  Gathering the light colors he starts building and mixing. Your eyes watching his long digits stir and mix. The way his delicate fingers held the brush, his long thin digits. You bit your lips, impure thoughts popping into your head.

Rubbing your thighs he starts painting, brush bristles moving lightly across your skin. His eyes focused, a soft hum rumbling from his chest. You watched, his beautiful features accentuated as he concentrated, paint wet and cold against your thighs. Light hisses escaping you. "It tickles." His brush strokes delicate, his eyes focused on the supple skin of your thighs, "Stay still for me Little Dove, I know it can be ticklish, but be a good birdie and stay still?" His voice gentle, his soft breaths echoing through the room as he worked.

Legs inching open while he worked, his brush strokes becoming soothing, slight shivers trailing up your spine each time he added more paint. "A little wider for me Dove." His free hand gently trailing up the opening to your skirt, your nub temping him. "Can I?"  Cheeks blossoming a pink tint, it had been a long time since you slept with another and to have someone like him take interest in you was daunting. "Y-Yes..." Voice barely a stutter, his almonds meeting yours, his brush strokes coming to a halt. "I need a clear, confident, answer Dove."

"Yes." Your eyes meeting his, you could feel yourself getting lost in their beauty. "That's more like it Little Dove." His tone affectionate as he continued his brush strokes, one hand elaborately mixing and painting on the supple flesh of your thighs. The other hand sliding your panties aside, his forefinger and thumb mercilessly teasing your clit, pinching and rubbing the poor nub with the pad of his thumb.  Your squirms making him smirk. "Stay still Dove, I'm almost done." His other hand reaching for a sponge and fine detail brush, his bottom lip ensared in his teeth. 

A few more minutes of this passing by before be leaned back admiring his work, "Perfect." His hands grabbing a mask on the table, "Slip this on for me Dove, and spread your legs for me." Giving him a coy nod, you did as you were told, slipping on the mask and spreading your legs. His tepid hands adjusting your skirt to conserve your modestly, the sounds of a camera's shutters meeting your ears, several clicks echoing throughout the room. "So perfect, I'll be posting these. You don't mind, do you?" Voice light as he removed the mask from your face. 

"Of course not." A smile on your face, blush dusting your cheeks. Paint wet, his large hands carefully tugging your skirt from your hips. Your hands pushing away his button up, letting the fabric hang from his shoulders while your hands traveled his shapely torso.  "So eager, I love it." His lips delicately kissing your lobes as he muttered his praises in your ear.  His deep whisper sending electric shocks down your spine,  light mewls escaping your lips when his delicate digits began to rub over your clothed slit.  Fingertips tracing the outline of a circle over your clothed heat, purposely avoiding your center. "Don't tease me." Your small pout coming out as a moan, the redhead looking up at you with a satisfied grin on his face. "Be patient Little Dove, sex is an art and art takes time." A low growl escaping him as you rubbed your knee against his sizeable bulge in protest.

His almonds darkening, his hands gripping your hips with force and he pulled you bottom half against his, his bulge harshly coming into contact with your heat. "Listen to what I say, Little Dove, don't make me angry." Voice sharp, a light trickle escaping your folds. The friction causing your body to tremble with pleasure, light pants making your chest heave. A harsh red dusting your cheeks, lips beginning to swell from your relentless biting. "That a girl, keep being a good Little Dove and I might reward you."  His lips connecting with yours, his tongue quickly claiming your mouth as his. Tongues caressed in wet, vehement battle. Languid, slow strokes complemented with guttural growls escaping the lewd artist. Bulge creating a steady friction between the two of you as he ground his hips against your hungry core.

"Fuck, such a good girl." Eyes lidded, his ivories tugging on your bottom lip leaving the flesh bruised and abused. "Tell me, Little Dove." Hands pulling your panties down, mindful of the still wet paint on your thigh. "Do you like it rough?" A deep growl following his inquiry, a harsh but landed smack grazing your clit. An abrupt squeak leaving your lips rushes of adrenaline shooting through your abdomen. "Or, do you like slow and soft." His voice lightening as he lovingly rubbed his bulge against your swollen and sensitive love. Blood rushing to your poor love button as it puffed and twitched under his ministrations. "Ahh!" Abdomen trembling under his weight, no matter how minuscule the ministration you felt it in every part of your being, his touches overwhelming.

An evil chuckle escaping the mahogany-haired male, he took pride in his work. He knew how much control he had over you and he loved every second of it. "Tell me, Dove," He leaned close to your ear, breaths tickling your lobe, "Do you like being told of how of slut and dirty whore your being? Do you like being told how tight your pink little pussy is? Would you like me to tell how I'm going to stuff my cock into that dripping cunt, how I'm going to make your pussy weep. How we'll make this table shake?" His wet muscle gently nipping your ear, saturating your lobe with a loving lick. His hot muscle feeling cool against your scorching skin.

With his thumb persistently torturing your nub, the merlot haired male used his free hand to lower his dress pants, a large, veiny and swollen length springing free from its cotton confines.  Fingertips dipping into your core, spreading your folds, your slick spreading down the length of his fingers. His cock gave a twitch at the sight of your liquids. Lips latching to your neck, tongue smoothing over the supple skin, "Or, do you like being a pampered baby. Do you like me worshipping your body, every nook and cranny being cared for." His voice gentle, plush lips feathering kisses down your shoulder, hands swiftly flinging your shirt to an unknown corner of the studio.  His tongue giving curious licks to your pert buds, "Mhm baby? Want to treat you like a divine canvas?"  His voice deepening, eyes dark he latches himself onto your pert bud, his digits curling inside your heat.

 Fingers increasing their pace while he sucked your delicate mound, moans, and cries leaving your lips as you felt a build up in your abdomen that you hadn't felt in years.  However, just as you started to see stars the sensation was lost when he pulled his fingers and lips from your body. "Shh baby, I can't have you feeling euphoria when we haven't even gotten to the main part of today's lesson." Letting out a cocky grin, he led himself into you, his aching crown spreading the wet walls of your core, your chest heaving, groans escaping you while your core stretched to accommodate his intrusive size and wide girth.  "S-So tight!" His grunt shaky as he hunched over you, the pastel paint along your thighs, still damp, smearing against both of your abdomens, the cold textures covering the two of you in goosebumps.

 Back arching, hands finding their way to his fiery locks, your digits intertwining with his tresses, your soft squeaks echoing in his ears. His hips giving a curious thrust, your walls tightening around him as pleasure shot through your body, thighs wrapping around his waist, paints smearing and racing along your bodies. The cool textures doing little to lower the temperatures, of scorching skins rubbing against each other as he picked up the pace. Length pulling out completely before sliding back into you, guttural grunts escaping him as he held your hips in place, teeth latching themselves to the crook of your neck. spreading your thighs apart he continued, hips pistoning themselves into your tight core. Length reaching the innermost corners of your heat, his crown giving you an immense pleasure you had yet to experience in your sex life.

 "Ahh, more, give me more!!" Your cries took into account, his teeth tightening on your neck, huffs escaping his chest causing his nose to flare.  Adjusting the position slightly, lips pulling away from your neck, his dark browns staring down at you. His sun-kissed torso on display for your eyes to ravage, the pastels painted on your body now smeared and mixed along with his lean abdomen, clit twitching at the sight. "You're going to want to hang on Dove" Pecking your lips, "I'll pull out, trust me." He murmured against your neck. Your hand dipping itself into the paints, curiously pressing your handprint against his firm chest, his lips curling into a smile as he does the same placing a set of handprints on your breasts. Hips slamming into you, the table supporting the two of you wobbling, it's legs letting out subtle creaks that could vaguely be heard over the clapping sound of flesh that rang throughout the studio. 

His eyes darkened as he looked down at you, taking in your handprinted breasts, your walls clenched tightly while he spread them. His free hand dipping in paints as he lightly smacked your chest, watching your mounds shake as he slammed his length further and further into your core. The lighthanded smacks ringing in your ears, you watched the paints melt into an ombre as they slithered from your mounds to your stomach. Loud grunts escaping him as he continued to slam his cock further and further into your heat. Not leaving an inch of space between your core and the tip of his cock as he continuously pierced it. His sunkissed torso now splattered with pastels, creating a lewd contrast. The way the wet paint dripped along his chest, his nipples slightly perked as the paint raced down to his abdomen.

"S-Such a dirty girl." A guttural groan escaping the hunched male, his eyes trailed down to where the two of you connected, his bottom lip ensared in his ivories as he watched his cock spread your cunt, a pearly froth coating his shaft. "Who said you could cum around me, Little Dove?" His snarl ringing in your ears as his grip begins to bruise your hips, his trusts becoming increasingly heavier. Animalistic grunts and groans escaped his lips as he slammed his weight into you, your hands flying to his torso for support. The pastels beginning to dry with a beautiful sheen,  a stunning blend of colors coating the two of you. Your nails scratching his chest. Gently scraping away the paints, his cock stirring a familiar feeling in your abdomen. Back arched, your bud twitching the more his crown hit that one spot that made you see stars.

"Ah-hh T-Tae!!" Toes curling, fingers clawing his chest, walls suffocating his member as you released yourself around him, another pearly layer coating his shaft. "H-Holy shit!!" He falters, quickly separating himself from your core, he wraps a hand around his shaft, pumping himself. His hand vigorously running along his length, tip an angry twitching red,  a loud cry of ecstasy filling the room as thick ropes of cum splattered against your abdomen.

The milky substance exuding a warmth against your skin. "Mhm," His lips swollen, eyes looking down at your paint covered body, giving your nipples a light pinch he trails a hand down to his puddle on your abdomen. His forefinger dipping in the pearly puddle, a ticklish feeling as he etches into the puddle. His signature. "You're the most beautiful canvas I've ever gotten the pleasure to paint on." He smirks, dipping down he brings his mouth to your ear, "I just had to leave my signature."

A light gasp escaping you when you looked down to his signature written in the splattered cum on your abdomen.  A pink dusting your cheeks. "L-Let's get cleaned up." Eyes trailing over the pastel mess covering the two of you. "I have a shower over there." He nods over to the shower head in the corner in the studio, a drain on the floor nearby, no curtains or stalls. "Shower?" Planting a kiss on your nose he smiles, "This studio used to be a chemistry lab so they needed the shower for safety reasons, however, since I converted this place into an art studio I never really had the chance to get rid of it."

"I'm glad you didn't get rid of it, going home in this mess would be quite the task." You giggled, getting up from the wobbly table. Looking down at the damage, cheeks flushing at his signature on your body.

"Mind if I shower with you?" He chuckles as he gathers towels, letting the shower run.

"After this evening it'd be a little strange for me to tell you 'no' wouldn't it?" Your giggle echoing throughout the room. His paint covered hand waving you over. "That's now come mere baby." His tone loving as he pulled you under the steaming water. His large hands roaming your body as the two of you scrubbed away the paint from your bodies. Splattering water was all that could be heard, the warm liquid warming the two of you.

"Will I see you again?" Your voice coming off as a gentle plea. His chin rested atop your head. "I don't see why not, next time we should meet under normal circumstances don't you think so Dove?" An almost immediate nod coming from you, "I'd like that, to see what you're like outside of the studio." A small smile tugging at your lips, the water showering the two of you in a layer of warmth. Large hands roaming your body down to your hips, his palm cupping your core. "Until then.." He smirks, "Can I play with you a little more baby?" The red-headed male dropping to his knees as he spread your thighs open.

Carefully leaning against the back wall, head tilted back as his skilled tongue began to trace over your slit. Gentle licks and sucks attacking your nub,  your hands quickly latching themselves to his scalp. Tugging at his red locks as his pace picked up. His lewd slurps causing your cheeks to darken to a crimson shade. His tongue paying special attention to your clit as he began to softly hum. The vibrations sending shivers along the length of your spine, the once hot water now becoming cool against your skin.  A soft whine of protest escaping you as he pulled away. "I have to close up the studio baby, next time we will continue this." Standing at your level he gave you heated kissed, one that was a mixture of emotions. Lust, attraction, curiosity, and longing. You already missed him and you haven't even left yet.

**

The cool fall breeze knocked on the windows to your apartment. Leaves and sticks brushed against your door. Namjoon spamming your phone with every passing minute. He was coming over later on for a movie marathon, Lisa was joining too. You were in limbo. Ever since you saw Taehyung that evening last week you hadn't been able to erase the redheaded man from your memory. He hadn't contacted you since. Was it your fault? Did he even know your name? He only referred to you as 'Dove'. You missed him. Every day since you had to reframe yourself from walking to his studio, to push him against the wall and ask him where he had been. Ask him why he hadn't said anything. Why he didn't keep his word.

A soft knocking shattered your thoughts. "I'm in the middle of having a pity party, who the hell is bothering me." You let out a low growl as you trudged yourself to the front door. Peaking through the peephole seeing no one on the other side. "I swear Joon if you are playing tricks on me again!!" You shouted, opening the door preparing yourself to be tackled by Namjoon in his gimp costume but there was no one there. Just a piece of paper sticking out from your mailbox. "The mailman doesn't come by on Sundays.." Your eyebrows furrowing. Carefully taking the paper from the mailbox, you unfolded it. You're stomach fluttering, blood running to your cheeks. Painted in watercolor was you.  A painting of you nude, covered in a gradient of pastels, along with a pearly puddle on your abdomen. Written in a sloppy black cursive was a message.

"I had a hard time tracking you down Little Dove. Haven't been able to stop thinking about you since. How about dinner next time?"  Clutching the painting against your chest, the heat in your face making it a little hard to breathe. "W-What did I get myself into.."

[voidxprotocol]

Why You Should Use Paper Straws At Your Next Event

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Plastic straws

Back in 1888, a man named Marvin Stone was drinking a mint julep on a hot summer day if his straw, made of natural rye grass, began to disintegrate and abandoned a gritty residue at the drink. Stone fashioned a paper drinking straws instead and registered with the first patent for a straw, and by 1890, Stone Industrial was creating greater straws than cigarette holders.

After World War 2, manufacturers began mass producing plastic goods to buyers, in need of a brand fresh market instead of wartime plastic. By the 1960s, corporations had been providing plastic straws at increasingly high rates.

The Development Of Plastic Straws Bans

Many states are starting to restrict single-use plastics such as plastic drinking straws and plastic bags. In 2002, Ireland imposed a tax on plastic bags, that was followed with a ninety four per cent decrease in the use of plastic bags. This is an important initial step towards drastically limiting plastic from the ocean, by psychologically motivating people to engage in similar behaviors.

[therichonnewritingnetwork]

Aren’t you a little to old to be trick-or-treating?

written by: nwfanmega

read more of @nwfan‘s works at FFN

“Andre Anthony!” Michonne shouted, stumbling on the slick hardwood floor as she chased the wet, naked toddler down the long hallway. “Get back here now!”

He turned back to look at her, gleeful eyes grounding her in place as his mischievous grin tugged at her heart. The two years since Mike’s passing had been the most brutal, numbing of her– their entire lives. Over a year of waking to her own tears soaking the blankets shrouding her underfed, sleep-deprived body had morphed into months of mornings being roused by cheerful laughter emanating from her rambunctious baby boy.

Today was Halloween and her energetic imp had tickled her awake as if it were Christmas morning. His infectious excitement carried them through the day as they carved lopsided pumpkins, filled a comically enormous bowl with assorted treats, and meticulously decorated their front porch with spiderwebs and skeletons.

All the activity made a bath necessary and after the end of Andre’s tub-time, he’d insisted on retrieving the clawed gloves Auntie Sasha had expertly fashioned to accompany his costume. Seeing the bright smile on his face warmed her from the inside out, making it impossible for Michonne to willfully tap down his enthusiasm.

After all, this had been Mike’s favorite holiday too. The elaborate couples’ costumes he would sweet-naturedly charm her into wearing had created distinct memories she could hold close for the rest of her life. Cleopatra and Mark Antony. Samson and Delilah. She was always his strong, resilient warrior.

It had been forever since she’d felt like his fearless fighter. The return of his illness had dropped her into depths of despair from which salvation seemed unreachable. But she had this tender-hearted boy to raise, who they’d agreed was the very best parts of both of them.

“Sorry Mommy,” he pouted, dropping his head as he bounced from one foot to the other. “Just wanna make sure I put it on ‘fore trick treaters come.”

He stepped on the tips of his toes, reaching over to the console in the foyer to grab the box holding the gloves for his costume.

“Ok baby,” she gently said, smiling as she dropped to her knees and opened the towel in her hands.

He ran back, jumping into her arms as she peppered his baby-soft face with kisses until he squirmed to be released.

“Ready for treat trick Mommy?” he asked, cupping her face with his little hands.

She nodded, wrapping the towel around his still damp body before lifting him up and carrying him to his room.

…

As soon as she dropped him at his door, he scurried to his dresser, opening the lowest drawer and pulling out his favorite T’Challa underwear. He slipped them on, then turned to his mother, waiting expectantly for her to help him put on the rest of his outfit.

Michonne opened his closet door, pulling out the garment bag carrying the costume Sasha had painstakingly made for her favorite nephew. Unzipping it, she pulled it out and turned to gauge Andre’s reaction.

She closed her eyes as tears slipped past her lids. If she could have bottled his expression and saved it forever, she would have. Silently, he clasped his hand over his mouth as he stared at the meticulously crafted creation.

He held his arms up as she helped him slip his little legs into the bottom half of the suit, before gliding it up his torso and spinning him around to zip the back.

“Wow!” she exclaimed, stepping back and spinning him towards the mirror. “You’re Black Panther.”

She watched Andre’s eyes widened, his little eyebrows rising so high she could easily count the creases on his forehead.

“I am, Mommy,” he whispered, tilting his head to look up at her with awe-filled eyes.

…

“Remember, I answer the door,” Michonne began, looking down at an eager Andre while adjusting her gold collar. “But you get to hand out the candy.”

Andre nodded solemnly, laser-focused on the overflowing bowl next to the front door. He’d insisted on matching outfits, having spent what turned out to be a very long week vacillating between Shuri and Okoye, finally deciding his fierce mother was Okoye; ready to battle evil by the Black Panther’s side.

Michonne glanced at the hallway mirror, taking in the red faux-leather breastplate Sasha had painstakingly drafted, cut out, and hand-delivered with explicit instructions on how to sew everything together. Sasha’s design sensibilities hadn’t rubbed off on her, but the hours spent in high school sewing her best friend’s artistic creations had. So while fairly adept at following the directions, she couldn’t have put together such an ensemble without Sasha’s inventive flare – and latent OCD – driving the endeavor.

The bell rang, startling her and drawing a loud giggle from Andre.

“It’s showtime!” Michonne exclaimed, squeezing his hand as she walked to the door.

Andre anxiously hopped up and down as she reached over his head and opened the front door. She tried to swiftly absorb the scene in front of her, shifting between one partially masked pair of crystal blue eyes to another, observing what could only be father and son.

“Trick or Treat!” the young boy enthusiastically chirped.

“Mommy!” Andre exclaimed, squeezing around her legs to stand in front of the visitors. “He’s Black Panther too! I told you there’d be another one!”

Michonne laughed as Andre made his way over to the little boy who’d been partly obscured by his father, but now stood proudly in front. As the boys admired each other’s outfits, Michonne turned her attention to the father, who slowly lifted the glass panel of his Iron Man helmet to reveal a tangle of damp curls plastered to his forehead.

“Boy, didn’t take into account how hot this thing was gonna be,” he announced, sweeping the curls from his forehead. “I’m Rick and that’s Carl. I believe we’re neighbors. Just moved up the street.”

“Nice to meet you,” Michonne smiled, leaning out of the doorway to take his outstretched hand. “I’m Michonne and my Black Panther is Andre.”

“Did a fine job with that,” he quietly said, conspiratorially leaning in and closing the space between them. “Pretty sure Carl’s gonna be talkin’ ‘bout it for weeks. I got his online, but yours… Wow. Both of yours are awfully impressive.”

His eyes quickly scanned her body, before making their way back up to her eyes.

“No, no, no” she giggled, shaking her head and gesturing between herself and Andre. “All of this is the work of a very good, very talented friend. I probably would’ve been knee-deep in the sales bin at Walmart.”

“Sounds like a good friend.”

“She is,” Michonne quietly replied.

“Don’t tell me you’re all decked out and only handing out candy,” Rick exclaimed, turning to watch the boys showing of their best moves on the porch.

“Andre was really excited about his costume. Less so about going out. I guess we’re homebodies… Plus, I’m pretty sure he thinks there’s gonna be a lot left at the end of the night. He turns three in December and doesn’t remember last year when the neighborhood cleared us out by 8pm.”

“I know how that is,” Rick said, nodding slowly. “Carl turned seven in June and still talks about how we didn’t get out early enough last year, leading to his ‘diminished haul.’ Not even sure where he got that from, to tell the truth. Had to promise this year we’d head out as soon as the sun set.”

“Andre’s started remembering stuff like this,” Michonne said wistfully, eyes dropping to her shiny patent leather boots. “Figured this would be a good year to start doing it up.”

“Loved that age,” Rick said, noting the caution in her eyes as she brought them back up to meet his. “Wish I coulda’ kept Carl there a bit longer…”

“Well, you seem to be doing just fine,” Michonne noted, watching Andre show Carl how the claws were attached to his gloves.

Rick turned to look at the boys.

“Wasn’t really sure Black Panther was, you know, appropriate for Carl. But it is his favorite character…”

“It’s appropriate for any kid who loves the character.”

The air stilled between them as they quietly gazed at each other. Something about the twinkle in Rick’s eyes calmed her in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. She didn’t quite know what to make of it.

“Carl loves the comics, but I’m terrible with stuff like that. Can’t keep the characters straight to save my life. I only picked Iron Man ‘cause that’s the one I usually remember. I’m a disappointment to my seven year old.”

“Then lucky for you, Carl now has neighbors well-versed in all things Marvel. He’ll never have to suffer in silence again.”

“Wanna go trick-or-treating with us?” he asked, laughing at her teasing dig.

She was fun. He could get used to this.

“Aren’t you a little too old to be trick-or-treating?” she smirked, pointing at the plastic pumpkin in his hand.

He grinned, eyes falling to the ground, before rising and getting lost, once again, in her dazzling smile. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had registered in his consciousness like this. Maybe this was the fresh start he needed too. He looked over at Carl, bending down so Andre could whisper into his ear.

“Nah,” Rick replied, biting his bottom lip as he turned his full attention back to Michonne. “Never too old for a little bit’a fun.”

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[cakesandfail]

Can you answer all of the aesthetical questions?

I certainly can! I’m putting it under a read more though so that reading multiple paragraphs of ‘embarrassing goth auntie’ shit is optional.

1) what fictional characters have inspired your aesthetic

Hoo boy that’s a heck of a list, here we fucken go lol

Adora Belle Dearheart, Lady Margolotta, Susan Sto Helit, the whole Ankh-Morpork Assassins’ Guild (including Vetinari), Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius Black, Severus Snape, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, pretty much every vampire ever tbh, Morticia and Wednesday Addams, Lydia Deetz, Richmond from the IT Crowd (not on purpose, it just sort of happened)

basically I’m just a Halloween disaster. There’s only so much I could do with a face this pointy, I figured I might as well just run with it.

2) what eras define your aesthetic

In chronological order, and for a very loose definition of ‘era’: the Golden Age of Piracy, the Romantic movement, the Victorian period, and the 1980s. One of these things is not like the others~

3) give me three songs that define your aesthetic

The Masquerade- Aurelio Voltaire

Take Me To Church- Hozier

and then of course I have to have the Monster Mash lmao, here’s the Misfits version

4) give me three pictures not featuring people or clothing that display the essence of your aesthetic

5) how has your aesthetic changed (or not changed) over the years

I was pretty normal-looking until I was about 17, and then in the space of 2 years I went from that to being pretty full-on alternative with an all-black wardrobe. I started out with just things like band shirts and black jeans and then over the course of my 20s I learned what suits me and what I liked most. And apparently that’s a slightly lazy, haphazard gothy sort of thing. My personal style hasn’t really changed much over the last few years, I’ve just got a bit braver about what I’ll wear to work.

6) what clothing item or accessory is currently the highest on your dream wishlist

safaskfhask where do I start

I’ve wanted the Burleska Ophelie dress for ages but every time I think about investing I remember that my mother once suggested getting the cream one to get married in and I cringe myself inside out

I’d also love a good cloak and a pair of boots with bat wings on but man, being spooky is expensive.

7) what are the things you want people to associate with you when they see you

Old books, granny perfumes (the kind that smell like flowers and dust), skeletons... Mostly I just want people to wonder what century I’m from and whether I’m actually alive.

8) in an ideal world what food and drink items would be consistently on your menu and would be associated with you

As a goth baker I’m just going to be very on-brand here: slightly worrying tea and cakes. You know, with the ‘you have been poisoned’ cups and unsettling coloured icing. You know Mr Kipling Fiendish Fancies? Like that.

9) what is your first memory of trying to establish a sense of fashion or aesthetic for yourself

When I was 9 I had some knock-off Doc Martens that had a suede and patent leather(ish) chessboard pattern on them. I loved those boots. As I said in number 5 I didn’t really think about fashion much until shortly before I left school but from year 4, when I wore The Boots all the time, I was always ‘stompy boots kid’.

[twinsforfashion]

Amalia

La moda al final tiene ese punto de disfrazarse, de vestirse para interpretar el papel que ese día te apetece o de transportarte a otros lugares. Júlia me dejó esta gabardina para Halloween y esa noche fui Trinity. Hoy no sé quién soy, pero me he sentido bastante poderosa envuelta en charol y con botines de tacón. Aunque luego llegué a casa y me puse el chándal.

*

In the end, fashion is about dressing up, of dressing to play the role that you feel like that day or of transporting yourself to other places. Júlia gave me this trench coat for Halloween and that night I was Trinity. Today I don't know who I am, but I’ve felt quite powerful wrapped in patent leather and heeled ankle boots. Although then I got home and put on my tracksuit.

Bershka trench, Zara blouse and skirt with Mustang boots.

+ Shoot by Júlia