#off white palazzo

[thepajamafactory]

The Pajama Factory's Diverse Collection of Stylish and Comfortable Clothing!

Discover a range of stylish and comfortable clothing at The Pajama Factory. From Fanta leggings to shimmering palazzos, find blue-colored elegance, versatile patiala pajamas, and more.

For more - https://thepajamafactory.in/

[m3vl0vesu]

╰☆☆ 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 ☆☆╮

A/N: I don't really have any tw but it's probably gonba be sad, so be warned. I'm writing this with no hours of sleep and the worst mood in a while :). Also a oneshot, I was asked to write something gut-wrenching but I don't know if it is. Batsis!reader is 15-17 Your thoughts

@moraxussy I don't think it's as gut-wrenching as you hoped, sorry!! I hope you like it though :)

One of a bats closest relative is a puma, ironically they have nothing in common. Bats come in big groups, there always surrounded by at least one other bat. Pumas are solitary animals, they don't share their territory. They're recluse, and more viscous than bats.

You were more vicious. You didn't control your anger and grief, it controlled you, but you had to find a way mange it. Tomorrow was a special occasion after all, well that's what everyone was saying but...it didn't feel like it. Tomorrow, Bruce was bringing Selina Kyle over. The famous kleptomaniac aristocrat, also known as Catwoman. The thief turned...bat? You weren't exactly sure but it'd be nice for her and Bruce to finally clear up what they were. It must've been serious if she was going to have dinner with the family. Then again, you never really saw your dad be in a committed relationship. ... 'Dad'...nope still didn't sound right. Even after all the years living together he didn't deserve that title, at least not from you. The daughter of Bruce Wayne? it sounded so foreign to you, people saying that-it sounded wrong. No, you were your mothers daughter. It didn't matter if you couldn't picture her face anymore...yeah.

.

.

. For this special occasion you needed something special to where! You chose a vest suit, an off-white shirt underneath the brown, tattersall patterned vest. Paired with some old, black palazzo pants. It was a similar outfit your other had worn a while back, you saw it an old magazine rotting in the corner of your room. It felt nice to be dressed up for once, it'd gave you a reason to finally take a shower. With everyone making a big deal out of this you had a little hope that they would acknowledge you today. Maybe Selina could change things around here.

But as people ran chaotically in the hallway and different aromas travelled into your room, you realised something. Jason wasn't here. What. No, no...you couldn't survive these without him. Your leg shook as you waited for the phone to pick up. He was the only one that properly acknowledged your existence without being cruel. He was your favourite brother, favourite sibling. I mean the bar was low but, favourite nonetheless!

"What's up Star?" His voice sounded hoars, had he just woken up? Your irritancy only growing when he used that nickname. It was usually nice when he called you it, but right now it was the last thing you needed. "Don't call me that Jay. Where are you?" ...

The silence was deafening, he cleared his throat and it made you want to cry. "I'm sorry...I'm not coming kid." No. That wasn't fair. "Tch-Then can you...pick me up?" Your voice desperate as you hated all of it. A room full of people that don't even know you, and a stranger. It was personal hell. "Look, Star, I really think you'd benefit from thi-" You ended the call, scoffing, you pushed yourself off your bed.

.

.

.

She's so pretty She sat on the right side of Bruce. Who was, per usual, at the head of the table. Soon the peaceful moment turned loud. The sounds of knives scraping against plates, Steph's nails tapping the table, Tim an Damian bickering back to hell. Huh, the chicken was just out of your reach, usually Alfred would put it closest to your seat. After a few embarrassing minutes of reaching for it, and no one helping you, your just grabbed whatever was closest. At one point you swore you locked eyes with Tim while you were still reaching for the chicken and he just flat out ignored you. Maybe it was time to speak "uhm...can you pass...can you" why was this always so hard? "Can I...Can you pass the chicken please?" Now you were sure people heard you. You watched as Grayson picked up the plate and gave it to...Selina. Of-fucking-course.

"What am I, chopped liver?"

Shit. Your shoulders tensed up and your hands balled into fists on your lap. You were in so much- "Ha." Huh? Did she...laugh? Whatever. "Sorry...can you pass the chicken please?" She nodded, was it getting hot in here? Or was it just everyone looking at you?

"You never told me she had a sense of humour." She said, her soft smile shining as she turned to Bruce, the her eyes squinted. "I don't think you told me much about her at all actually." That sounds about right. He probably doesn't even know much about you. Her elbow leaned on the table and her chin rested on her fist. "Your Mother...she was a model right?" With those words she instantly got your attention, with your eyes shining you nodded. "Yeah! She was"

With the nod of her head she leaned back in her chair. "That outfit...she wore something similar to it." Oh you definitely like her.

Before you could respond, someone had to open their mouth. "She wasn't a very famous one." Damian said, his annoying voice once again ruining your mood. "Damian." Bruce muttered. You scoffed, usually these comments would be ignored. "privileged asshole." You poked at your plate, not really hungry anymore. In fact it felt like you might throw up, or break something. "What did you call me?" He said sitting up in his chair. "I called you a privileged asshole." You banged your fork onto the table, no everyone's attention was on you. From the corner of your eye you could see Tim's scowl, it was surprising him and Bruce weren't related. You couldn't take it when he slandered your mother, but for some reason you were the villian. "Star. Don't be like that." Dick nudged you, only making you recoil with disgust. "Who said you could call me Star? Don't call me that, dick." You heard your name being called, Alfred standing to the side. He was warning you. "Sorry-" "No need to be a bitch about it." Of course Steph had to join in, you felt your mouth open, ready to spew an infinite amounts of insults when you heard your name being called a second time. Pushing the chair and table hardly you walked behind him, being led to the kitchen. "I apologise for her behaviour." Bruce's voice rung in your ears. Fuck this. .

.

.

You stood, arms crossed out tapping your foot. "You need to have some decorum-" "Decorum? Me? What about Damian?" You hated arguing with the old man, you hated when he was upset at you. The tears were already pouring, could they here this? The door was slightly ajar after all. "Master Damian has been through a lot-" "Okay?" Your voice shook, it was so wrong. But it felt right, right screaming like this. "Yes. Yes he has, and? So have I."

Alfred, mouth was agape for a second, he hadn't seen her this upset before. "Now Miss...you can't compare-" Great now you lost first name privileges. "Right. Everyone's been through tough shit, guess what? So have I!" Your voice getting louder, the anger pulsing through your veins. "I've been hurt and I'd never treat them like how I've been treated!'' Your arm extended out to the door, your other hand slapping your chest. Where your heart would be.

"WHY!...Why is their pain different from my pain?"

The question hung in the air, you held back sobs. Alfred looked tired now, almost guilty. His composure wilting slightly. "It...that's not what I mean-" Now that you had started you couldn't stop. "Do I not deserve the same amount of recognition, the same amount of love?" You felt yourself taking a step back, your whole body shaking. It's like it had a mind of it's own. "You do deserve it, please calm down..." Calm down?. Calm down? She wanted to shout at him, this wasn't fair. "You know what Alfred?" The breaths getting shorter. "What Miss.." "I wish I had stayed inside that day, I wish I burned with my mother." He looked visibly shaken for a moment, his voice gave it away. "You don't mean that." "I mean it. That way I would've died with her, knowing she loved me." Your voice got quiet at the end, barely above a whisper. Why was it always this way? What did you ever do to them. You hated this, you weren't their family. With every similarity there was difference, not a Wayne and not a Bat. But even so why couldn't they accept that and accept you.

.

.

.

The butler placed whatever he was holding down, you didn't know what it was and didn't care. The sobs were too hard to control, it made your body ache. He stepped closer, arms wide as you fell into them. Clinging on like you were going to fall apart.

A/N: Why does this suck lol

[lesbians4armand]

Part Two of my Preacher’s Daughter is an Armand Album thesis for @nightcolorz 

Thoroughfare

I don’t have too much to say on this song as it’s one of the less Armand songs of the album imo, but there are a few bits still. 

The references to California and the west coast feels very much like San Francisco devil’s minion but not enough to really elaborate. 

Gibson Girl

“You wanna love me right now, You wanna get alone with me, You wanna get my clothes off, And hurt me” For so long , Armand’s perception of love has been so possessive and physical. If someone loves him, they want to own him and they want to fuck him, this is what he was taught too young and it was proven right again and again.

“Says he’s in love with my body, that’s why he’s fucking it up” He’s told that Marius loves him, loves his body, yet is continually hurt and abused and sold until he dies and his body is made that of a vampire because Marius just loves him too much to let him die for real. Him, or what he can offer?

“Then he says to me, Baby if it feels good then it can’t be bad” Being taught that if something is pleasurable then it can’t be bad, whether it be adult’s wanting to fuck him when he’s too young, or killing and drinking blood, or having his blood drunk. If what Marius does to him feels good, then it can’t be bad or wrong like the ones who actually hurt him, right?

“You wanna fuck me right now, You wanna see me on my knees, You wanna rip these clothes off, And hurt me” The lyrics repeat, this time more violently. This again reminds me of the banquet scene, Bianca’s cousin’s and other men wanting to hurt and degrade Amadeo, then Lord Harlech wanting not just to sleep with him but to own him, and trying and succeeding to kill him when he refuses.

Ptolemaea

“You love blood too much, but not like I do.” Armand was addicted to Marius’s blood before he was turned, just as Daniel was addicted to Armand’s. This running theme of obsession with the blood just hits me in such a way. 

“You’d do well to say yes to me” This line is barely a whisper in the song but it’s very Marius being very controlling over Amadeo, not truly giving him a choice as to what he does. 

“Saying I’m the one he’s gonna take me” Amadeo is Marius’s favourite, over any of the other palazzo boys. He is the only one he would bring into the blood, for better or for worse. 

“Calling me the one, I’m the white light, beautiful, finite” Again, Amadeo is the only one he would give the dark gift to, but he also gives him a diamond ring because “diamonds are the white light of God” which is what this lyric always reminds me of. Heis beautiful of course, but as a mortal it’s finite, Marius wants to preserve such beauty, even speaking about what a beautiful corpse Amadeo would be. 

“You poor thing, sweet mourning lamb, there’s nothing you can do, It’s already been done.” I’m not explaining this one. It just is.

“What fear a man like you brings upon a woman like me” I could talk more about Amadeo here but you know what this lyric really reminds me of? Show Armand revealing his history of sexual abuse to Louis to be told that Louis once ran a brothel. What fear that must be, knowing your partner will never really understand this part of you because he was the one behind doing it to others. Of course, Armand is not a woman but the point very much stands.

The repeated cries of stop and the scream speak for themselves in this song I think.

August Underground & Televangelism

Putting the two instrumentals together as I won’t talk about them much, but the deeply horror vibe of the first and the calmer, sadder vibe of the second is very telling of Armand's story.

Sun Bleached Flies

“What I wouldn't do to be in church this Sunday” Being raised so religious then losing it so abruptly it makes him sick in his horror and longing in Venice. Before then, he had God, and now nothing. 

“God loves you, but not enough to save you” Same thing, Andrei was so devoted to his saints and his prayers he was deemed holy, and then later given the name Amadeo, beloved of God. God loved him, but he was not saved. Not from the slave traders or the brothel owners, not from Marius. Then, even at death he was not saved, forced to remain eternally young and eternally dead. And again, when taken by Santino he was not saved by God. Beloved, never saved.

“So I said fine, cause that’s how my daddy raised me, if they strike once then you just hit them twice as hard.” Violence was so normalised to Armand by Marius, he doesn’t even blink at it any more. 

“We all know how it goes, the more it hurts the less it shows” Armand keeps so much of his story and pain and trauma within it barely shows through, blocking his mind even to much older more powerful vampires like Khayman, only revealing small amounts. 

“And that’s why I could never go back home” He can never really return to his real home of Kiev, because he’s not Andrei any more. It’s his homeland but not his home.Even Venice he can never really return, Marius and the palazzo are no longer there, he isn’t Amadeo any more. All his homes are ghosts. 

“But I always knew that in the end, no one was coming to save me, so I just prayed and I keep praying and praying” Same vibe as “God loves you but not enough to save you.” He will never be saved, no matter how much he prays.

Strangers

“I tried to be good, am I no good?” Armand submits to others so much because he so desperately wants to be good for something, at something, be useful, more than just “having a skill.” It’s deeply heartbreaking. 

“With my memory restricted to a Polaroid in evidence” I’m actually writing a fic with this title atm about Armand and the Vecchio painting but it’s just so fitting. He has little memory of that time, little connection to that identity, yet it’s painted and displayed on a wall for millions to see, still on his knees with torn clothing, always serving.

“I just wanted to be yours, can I be yours?” Whether it be Marius, Lestat, Louis, Daniel, anyone, Armand wants to be loved more than anything, but not just loved. He wants to be owned, for the love to be all encompassing, more than anything else to the other person. They can’t have anyone else because Armand needs them so badly to be devoted to him, to show him the love he’s never known, to provide an end to his awful loneliness. He wants to be theirs. This is why he kills Claudia, breaks down a door with an axe, gives Daniel his blood and the dark gift, abandons the coven for Lestat. 

“If I’m turning in your stomach, am I making you feel sick” Both the references to grief and consumption here are so good. Does feeding from Armand make them feel sick, or is it the guilt in what they have done to him, the horror in knowing what he has been through? 

“Don’t think about it too hard you’ll never sleep a wink at night again” Ending on this lyric that perfectly encapsulates how I feel about Armand. I think about him too hard.

[theroseiswithoutawherefor]

Well, first of all, I have to thank @yridenergyridenergy for selling me the ticket! It was literally the best experience I had throughout the year; I really, really, sincerely appreciate it.

As promised, this is my repo of the gig in Wakayama. To be honest, I’m really a bad recorder as I can only recall the sensation or vibe in general and forget the details every time. Am I the only one?? Anyway, I guess my drawings may not be precise at all and it would be more like a summary of the year.

And this repo will be focusing on Kaoru, Toshiya and Kyo. I’m sorry but I stood on the left in both times.

Kaoru

It’s so strange that I can easily feel my love for him grows with time and what a coincidence! I visited them twice this year and I was right in front of him every time. I always assumed that I would be in front of Toshiya when I checked the hall map in December, but no! It was Kaoru again! It kinda shocked me the time I located my seat and noticed his microphone stand was there, just about 2 meters away.

I think probably it has been known by all of you, the show started with a semi-transparent screen showing some AI-generated footage(sorry, I hate this part). It covered most of the setting but just revealed some shadows. I could only see Kaoru, his side profile, priest-alike gown and silver hair. He looked so focused and indifferent and so good-looking…my hands are still sweating as I recall it now.

That was my first time listening to Rinkaku on-site. I got caught up in emotion when you could easily compare themselves in reality and their sketches in the video. You could see how much they have changed and it also just reminded me a lot of moments, staying at home and staring them on the screen. The real vs the virtual.

Also, at the beginning from the distance, I could only see some sort of marks on his chin that looked pretty much like piercings? It turned out to be his makeup; so brilliant.

Kyo

I didn’t see Kyo that much this time, but I feel he is that kind of vocal that you would fall in love with once you’ve actually seen him in the venue. He looked so nostalgic to me this time, maybe bc of the ghost face makeup or the fact that I have seen him too much this year. I also went to HK for sukekiyo this year.

The gig of sukekiyo was more emotional, floating and spacey (and less aggressive, obviously). Kyo’s dedication was so contagious. Although he looked a little bit nervous at the beginning of the Day1, forgetting the lyrics now and then lol.

It is interesting to see the similarities and differences between Diru and Sukekiyo, like looking at different reflections of the same mirror.  

Btw probably he is the most inspiring Diru member to me I guess. Idk why drawing kyo always begins with a pretty satisfying draft then it becomes a big challenge to my expertise and patience ahhhh. But yeah, I can improve a lot after finishing it. So, kyo, thx? lol

Toshiya

I’m not quite a fan of his white outfit that day(the one worn in the pic of their tweet on 16th Dec). Actually I even failed to recognize him the first, waistcoat and palazzo trouser are ok but definitely not the most stunning look of him. It seems that his style is becoming more gender-neutral this year, with hair dyed brown, pearl jewelries and feminine makeup.

But I still quite enjoyed his performance, his body language was so beautiful (ugh! It’s such a shame that I can’t recreate it)and he was the first one going to the left terrace and saying hi to everyone. Toshiya is always the sweetest person in Diru to me.

I prefer his encore look more and he took off the shirt and threw it to the gift right in front of him

（and a random sketch）

That’s it! I could have drawn more but, sorry I’m a perfectionist, these pics really took me some time, but I may keep going if I have spare time.

And I’m not used to talking so much on the Internet, it is embarrassing somehow.  

The year of 2023 has treated me rly good, I hope it would be the same for all of you and Diru members, see you next year.

[ynmnrmt]

You & Me & Rhea Makes Three: Chapter 7

rhea ripley x m!reader x m!reader's girlfriend

word count: 3,803

warnings: explicit sexual content, themes of domination/submission, dubiously consensual nonmonogamy, relationship drama, violence/threat, noncon fantasy

a/n: Our heroes deal with the fallout from what happened last chapter - which, I'm warning you now, I continue to deal with in an incredibly blithe way.

(The story so far: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six)

“She did what?” Jennifer is white with fury.

“I really think it was just a misunderstanding.” You certainly feel confused about it, anyway. “We were – uh – talking about fantasies, and one thing sort of led to another.”

“You said no. Repeatedly.”

“Yeah, but, the thing is, that was sort of on the subject-”

Jennifer storms from the room. You follow her into the kitchen just in time to see her draw the biggest knife from the block. “I’m going to kill the bitch,” she says, quite simply, and as she advances you do too, into her path, you take hold of her arms, somewhere between trying to prevent a murder and trying to prevent any more talk or what might or might not have been done to you.

“Please,” you say, without the stomach to shout, “put it down.”

“Why?” Jennifer roars at you. “Why the fuck are you defending her? Why are you doing that?”

You still have hold of her arms, the blade of the knife wavering too close to your wrist, but now you are frozen. You genuinely do not have an answer, not one you can bring yourself to tell her. But then you both hear the door close. “Hey!” Rhea’s voice floats through, bright and cheerful. “I got us sushi!”

Through in the front room there are three punnets of sushi side by side on the table, chopsticks and all. Rhea bustles up from behind and kisses you both on the cheek. If it really had been rape, you tell yourself, you wouldn’t have welcomed that then. Then she says “Come see, come look at this” as she spreads a magazine out next to the sushi. It shows some tasteful, panoramic shots of what looks like an Italian palazzo.

“What’s this?” asks Jennifer, fragile like glass.

“I figured, we don’t want to live here forever,” smiles Rhea. “It’s got three bedrooms, one for each of us, and also one very big bedroom.”

“Look, Rhea, never mind this, we need to – is that a corner bath?” Jennifer sets the knife down on the table, and leans over the glossy spread in the magazine, immediately hypnotised by all those columns.

“Yeah, they were going for some kind of neoclassical, but they did it right, not just slapping on a cornice here and there.” You squeeze in between them, looking at what apparently might be your new home. “And it’s got acres of space, it’s even got a stable if we want to up and turn into horse people.”

You look sideways at Jennifer. You had never in your life thought she’d be able to fulfil that childhood fantasy, or more pointedly, that you’d be able to fulfil it for her. “What’s the price tag on this?” you ask.

“Oh, fuck that,” says Rhea, as if that’s an afterthought. “I can put down twice the deposit tomorrow.”

“Can you?” You have never been too clear on how, exactly, being a WWE superstar pays.

“It’d clean me out a bit – but I don’t care, I don’t give a shit about the money, I just want to be with you guys and make you happy.” Rhea has no interest in the mansion she’s apparently willing to drop her life savings on, she only has eyes for you and Jennifer. She lowers her voice and adds “I want to break in every one of those beds.”

“I’m sure you do,” you say, and try to sound casual with it, as if it doesn’t still make something bloom in your heart, as if you don’t wish with every fibre of your being that you could all just go off to bed together, right now, and everything could be alright. And now Jennifer looks at you, this is unmistakably your cue to say something beyond a wafer-thin pleasantry over your real feelings. “Rhea, that time, the other night, before Jen got back-”

“I hope I wasn’t too rough with you,” says Rhea fondly, and touches your chest.

“Rhea, I-” Did you really say no? Did you even, actually, say that? “I asked you to stop.”

“That,” what crosses her face now is the kind of horror you have become so familiar with, and now greet as an old friend, “I thought that was part of the game.” No, this is past whatever petty guilt you ever felt over betraying Jennifer, she looks distraught. And then she looks at the knife Jennifer set down on the table, and as Jennifer squirms she breaks down in tears.

“Rhea…” begins Jennifer.

Rhea reaches out for her hand – but then, as if struck by some fresh pang of pain, collapses and sprawls on the floor, face screwed up. She sniffles for a moment, then cries out again, hardly even words, just grief. When she finally struggles up off the carpet, all she can say is “I’m sorry.”

“You raped my boyfriend, Rhea,” says Jennifer, but with none of the fury she’d had about it only minutes ago. Now it’s like she’s trying to get the facts down.

“I – oh, God – I didn’t mean to,” Rhea insists, voice shaking, still looking at the floor. “I genuinely thought that it was – I never meant to hurt you.” She’s found your hand, she clutches it, tight, it does hurt slightly. And as she does, you see Jennifer look down at her, with a little smirk of satisfaction.

“It’s like I say,” you say, trying to get some circulation back into your fingers, “we were talking about rough sex, and, and that as a fantasy, and stuff.”

Rhea tugs your arm, now you are down on the floor with her. She stares into your soul with red eyes and commands you “Do not make excuses for me. Do not do that, you have done nothing wrong, and, and I…” She wails again, and buries her head in your shoulder. Because she is twice your size this quickly ends up with you on your back, and her on top of you, again. “Please don’t,” she’s saying now, “please don’t.”

“Rhea,” Jennifer attempts, “Rhea, get off him.”

Rhea gets clumsily to her feet. “Maybe,” she snuffles, “maybe you should. I don’t even understand whether…” She presses her fist to her mouth – then throws her arms wide. “Go ahead, stick me. I want you to do it.”

From down on the floor, you do see Jennifer look at the knife. But she only says “Rhea, come on.”

“No! No, do it! I don’t want to hurt you any more, I don’t want to do that! I don’t want – fucking stick me!”

You manage to stand up. You take the knife from the table – and, trying desperately to ignore the shouts and tears swirling around you, you walk it back into the kitchen and put it firmly back in the block. Then you rejoin the two women in your life, and say “Sit down.” It’s quite a relief when they do. Rhea’s still sniffling, wiping the tears from her face, and by now Jennifer is as well. “Look. I’m glad we’re taking this stuff seriously. But,” you haven’t prepared for this, you can feel the wing and the prayer, “we can’t – we’re waving knives around, something has gone wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” repeats Rhea, doubled over in her seat, clutching at Jennifer, the woman she’d asked to plunge a knife into her chest seconds earlier.

“I’m sorry too,” says Jennifer, and squeezes Rhea’s hand. “I just got so angry.” It comes out of her mouth as a bubble.

“Alright,” you nod. “In all honesty, I didn’t really mind. I just think we all need to be a bit more...a bit more careful, and a bit more considerate, of each other.” They nod at you, gazing at you with their big, puffy eyes, and that breaks your heart a little, so you sit down between them and say “Come here” and hold them both close. You can get your arm the whole way around Jessica.

“Thank you,” whimpers Rhea, so near to you it rustles the fine hairs in your ear. “I,” she swallows in the way of desperately trying to keep control, “really didn’t realise you wanted me to stop. I thought we were just having fun.”

“Well, I have to look at it this way,” you say, “if there’s anyone in the world I’d rather be raped by, she’s right here.” You give Jennifer a squeeze. There’s some gasps and then some laughs, and you thank God you got the tone right on that one.

*

Before long Rhea is on top of you again, her tongue down your throat. When she pulls it back to bite at your lips you manage you blurt out “Rhea, I’m going to come.”

“Oh, cool!” she says – and she tightens her grip of Jennifer’s hair, and pulls the smaller woman’s mouth free from your cock. Then she grabs you and starts working you over, you imagine yourself as a cow being milked. “What do you think?” Rhea asks Jennifer, as she gasps for breath. “You want his come in your face?”

“Yes,” she gasps, strings of drool hanging from her lips, “oh fuck, yes” and so when Rhea twists her hand around the head of your cock you give it to her, not able to help yourself, you hose her down. A jet across her cheek, into her mouth, then in her eye, and she tries to turn away, spluttering. Then Rhea forces her back onto your cock, or at least towards it now her mouth’s closed a bit, and you see the struggle there, and then she rests against you with a contented “Mmm.”

“Good girl,” says Rhea, and gives Jennifer’s head a little shake before pulling up to her feet. But this isn’t by the hair, she’s still holding Jen’s hair but the hand you’ve just defiled is on Jen’s arm as well, bearing her weight. Rhea gets in close, holding Jen tight, and whispers to her “One day I’m going to make him take your cute little ass”, then takes a long lick of her face, where your come landed, halfway cleaning her up. “How’d you feel about that?”

Jennifer’s head lolls back, she looks sideways at Rhea, unable to form words. When they finally come out it’s “That sounds really exciting”, and it’s coupled with a hopeful glance towards you, “you talking about that makes me wet.”

Rhea laughs, and throws Jen down on the couch beside you. Immediately she wriggles into your grasp, happy. Then Rhea swears. “Is that the time? Ah, God, I’ve got some promo or other in an hour. Amuse yourselves, won’t you?” She ducks into her room. You’ve hardly got your breath back when she re-emerges, now in black latex from thigh to chest. Jen stiffens up at this striking sight, and so do you. Rhea dips her head shyly. “Don’t wait up. Actually, do.”

And then the door closes, and then you are alone with your girlfriend.

“Are you really okay with that?” you ask her.

“Sure,” she says, and nuzzles into your bare chest, sticking only slightly.

“I wasn’t sure if that was something you’d like.” What is the polite way to broach the subject of anal sex, anyway?

“I don’t know. Might be fun.”

“If you’d like we could try it right now.” The way she smiles up at you forces you to offer the pragmatic adjustment of “Well, in ten minutes or so.”

The time passes quickly. In lieu of real lubricant, you steal one of Rhea’s watermelon-sized tubs of body oil. And although it seems more traditional to do this from behind, you lay Jennifer down on her back, so you can see her face, because you love her.

“Should I wash up first?” she asks, and she must be nervous, because you see her clench.

“I figure we’d wash afterwards anyway,” you shrug. God, she is nervous. She’s trembling as you take a handful of lube, before you’ve even touched her, you say “I’m going to put it on you now, okay?” as if this will somehow make it better. It seems somehow mechanical when you spread it over her ass, though this is partially you working up the courage to put it where it actually needs to go. When your slicked-up finger touches her there she gasps, so it’s very gently that you work it inside, barely even past the tip. “How’s that?” you ask, looking anxiously down at her.

Jennifer is biting her lip, and just nods, all wide-eyed.

You assume the position, and grease up your cock, so thoroughly that you get the tops of your legs too, it all looks very shiny between you and Jen so hopefully this will work. You read in a book once that one of the biggest pitfalls is to jam up against the perineum, so you are careful to avoid that, and aim directly into her ass before you start to push.

It’s not the way you imagined. Once you’re in past that initial tight spot it’s not the clenching all-encompassing core of her being you’d faintly imagined it would be, as you poke around that softer tissue it really does seem like all those vulgar sayings about rearranging your partner’s guts. You work yourself in slowly and awkwardly, and say “I hope this doesn’t hurt for you.”

Jen looks up at you winsomely, your come dried up on her face. “The thing is I – ah – hoped it would, not bad or anything, not like that. But, to sort of, make it a sacrifice, a sort of ultimate gesture of…” She trails off as her hand drifts in towards you and she starts to masturbate. “I hope you make it hurt just a little more.”

So you squeeze yourself inside, the way you would trying to resist the urge to use the bathroom, and push harder. It seems self-defeating, you don’t want to hurt her, and it doesn’t seem like you do, she just squirms and makes little noises that might be faint discomfort but are more likely desire.

It feels, and you are revolted at conceiving of Jen in such a manner, like the time you tried to masturbate with a plastic ring when you had not long discovered the practice. But you were a young boy, and that was more than enough, and here, with your pretty girlfriend splayed out in front of you this is more than enough to have you dancing on the point of orgasm already.

You bring her left leg up, against your chest and your face, and you take hold of it. It’s for greater leverage, you tell yourself, she said she wanted it to be forceful, as you cling onto her thigh like a bush baby and rest your face in the softness of her calf.

“Oh yeah,” she says, in a low guttural way you’re surprised to have conjured, “yeah, keep going, rape my virgin ass.” Should this stop you in your tracks? Because it doesn’t, it makes you go at her harder, she’s prompting you, she must be, when she adds “keep raping my fucking asshole” you slow down and lean past her leg.

“Is – is this okay?” you ask.

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes glitter at you.

“Alright, I’ll go a bit rougher, I just don’t want to hurt you,” and you don’t, of course you don’t, but when she grabs your arm and pulls you see the shock cross her face as you fully enter her. For a second you really are worried, before her wide-eyed alarm melts into hazy bliss. And you find yourself going all the way in and out, so her tightest spot will squeeze around the head of your cock, it’s selfish but you still give her what she wants, exactly what she wants by the sounds of it.

When you do it this way, even as slick and sloppy as you both are all lubed up, you find you need to really push, to put some force in your hips each time you penetrate her again. When you do, she takes short, sharp breaths of shock, it shouldn’t really be a surprise by now, but still you worry she won’t like it. And she, in her turn, puts a hand on her pussy and starts scrubbing away at her clit. This time, as you dive back in, she gives a little mewl, almost of pain, and to your horror the sound nearly gets you off there and then.

*

Later, Jennifer comes up behind you in the kitchen, and hugs and squeezes you, and says “I’m still really worried about Rhea raping you.”

You find her hand and squeeze her back. “God, you break my heart sometimes. We’ve talked this through, we know it’s not going to happen again.” Is this, you wonder somewhere deep and dark, a resolution to simply go along with it next time? Is that kind of what you wanted anyway?

“I know,” says Jen, sounding as if she might stamp her foot, “I know we’ve talked it over and we’ve set boundaries, and she is sorry, I know she is, but I just kind of – I find that – when you’re in the moment and things are happening, and when you’re turned on,” her hand drifts up your chest onto your neck, “suddenly the rules aren’t really there any more – do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” you say, faintly distracted. “Yeah, I do get that, and sometimes I get worried too, that I might be pushing you into something that you’d prefer not to do.”

“So I had this idea, for how I could keep you safe.” She puts something on the table in front of you, a metal device with a lock and keys dangling from it, which you know is a chastity cage. “I know we’ve talked about this before.” It’s true, you have, somehow it came up as a topic one long night and you sort of showed your hand by explaining what it is and what it’s for, and yes, you did tell her the idea excited you but you said it as a half-joke, like something you’d never do for real, and you both had some fun talking about how it would stop you from cheating on her. Which had seemed so unlikely at the time.

“I don’t think this is really necessary.” It excited you then, it excites you now, yet still you’re worried what she’ll think of you if you go for it. There’s all the associations, for one thing, all those fairly extreme and often quite racist things the pornographers throw in with it, that seem to have very little to do with the fun power dynamics of having a woman lock your penis away. “Honestly, I think Rhea’s scared of what you might do.”

“I know, I still feel so awful about that, and that’s sort of played into this – it would really set my mind at ease, if I knew you were safe. Plus,” her voice turns lower and breathier, “it gives me a little thrill, too. I could, I could sort of tease you with the keys, and make you ask permission before you can even get properly hard. But obviously we could unlock it, whenever we...I’m sorry, that probably sounds so weird.” That is more or less what you’d hoped for as a wildest dreams best case scenario.

“I do worry about-” you stop yourself in your tracks. There is no way, in this context, to say you are concerned for how Rhea will feel about this. This is, after all, a throwing down of the gauntlet, a declaration that you’re not allowed to have sex with Rhea unless Jen says so, which, to be honest, also squares nicely with that best case scenario. “You’re not going to make me dress up like a girl, are you?”

Jen giggles, and grabs you. “You’d make a terrible girl.” You laugh at that too. “No, that wouldn’t be any fun, and besides, we’ve already got two mixed up in all this, that’d just be more of the same.” This is, though you couldn’t bear to admit it, a big relief. “And obviously I’d let you have the key any time you wanted, all else being equal I wouldn’t want to add another step into the whole process. It’s just a precaution, but it’s one that – well, that I hope we could make sexy and fun.”

You smile, even if only to yourself. Not for anywhere near the first time, you reflect that you don’t deserve her. “I hope we can too.”

“So – so you’re alright with this?” Yes, Christ, how will it have been for her, actually raising the question? She is, at least, clearly confident that you’re no domestic abuser.

“Sure,” you say, turning to face her, “anything to make you feel better,” as if you’re not into this too. She concusses you slightly when she jumps up to kiss you. Then she kneels, to pull your pants down, accompanying herself with little ‘ooh’s and ‘hee-hee’s which seem all too appropriate in the circumstances. It’s when she cups your balls, holding them and your cock in her hand, that you realise the gravity of it being a metal cage. A plastic one, you could find a way to break it if it came to it, and there was always the insane fantasy of being so penile-ly powerful that you could get an erection hard enough to rend it asunder. But there’s no arguing with metal.

The steel ring is the first part to chill your skin, neatly separating your genitals from the rest of your body. Jen looks up at you from on her knees, no words, just a look that threatens to break your heart again. You’ve already worked up a half-chub so she can’t simply slip the cage on over your cock, she has a bit of a struggle with it, you try desperately not to get any more aroused but she’s literally touching you there.

“Let me,” you say, and when you take hold of the cage yourself she rises gracefully and kisses you full on the cheek, you try your best to ignore that. It takes a minute or two, some deep breaths, some scatterbrain attempts to think of anything else and a firm bite of your own cheek, but yes, there it is, it’s on. Jen swoops back down again to loop the padlock through the two parts, and then there is a click.

“God, that sounded…” muses Jen, suddenly breathless herself. Then she kisses you again, on the cage, and you feel half of it. “I hope you feel safer.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Halfway confused, halfway horny, suspicious of her motives and guilty over the suspicion. But then, what’s new?

[carmenized-onions]

NEW CHAPTER, 14, new recap (can you believe the first one i recapped was chapter 5 oh my) lets rip some coke and goooo

“I thought it was a good bit!” “Cause I’m a piece of shit?” - IVE MISSED THISS

CHARMIN SOUNDS LIKE CHARMING 🥹🥹🥹

the deer in headlights bit is v funny, you’ll see when you see the memes (which i made before the chapter, i am nostradamus)

she is fruity for sure

nodding like i understand food talk (tf is a3)

unrelated but the same therapist thing reminded me about something i keep forgetting to bring up - RICHIE IS HR. so when you mentioned the bear needs an HR, well they do. and as long as carmy treats chip right i think he’ll accept the co-worker relationship (anything to be able to work with chippy)

THE CAT. he is those cute curly kitties. the shat, iykyk

the fact carmen wants to say ‘i love you’ this early (something he struggled a lot to say to his family) IS SOOOOOOOOO

OMG CHIPPY GOING TO WORK FOR THEM FOR REAL????:333333333

This has been Carmichael Burrowski, folks! Don’t call no one— — DNEKRKRIOELEKDKFODNEKE CARMICHAEL BURROWSKI

Ugh, boyfriend? What kind of word is ‘boyfriend’? That's fucked. - THEYRE SO SIMILAR AND PERFECT TOGETHER

And you cannot say you love him because that would be weird. - OH SHUT UP THEYRE SO

“I’m going to kiss you.” “Yeah, okay.” - THAT IS SO FUNNY SJDJFJKF

He’s fine with the touch of hair pulling, on your part— Possibly more than fine. — *giggles in meme*

“You’re so pretty.” You tell him anyway, speaking into his half open mouth.  Whatever thought he had, it’s dead now.“—Jesus fucking Christ.” - i need them to know how much i love them jesus fucking christ

“I’m not a fucking virgin.” - LMFAOEKRKKEOEKEKRNRKRKRKEKEKEKE

“It was a recent development, okay?” “Darn. Sorry I was late.” - 🥺🥺🥺 imagine -

“I want you in every sentence.” - FUCKING KILL ME WHY DONT YOU CARA MIA😭

to bite you like a cannibal - this man and his hickeys🤭🤭🤭

“Fak is still outside, I’m pretty sure.” - CHIP??1?2?2?3kr3kr3kr3kr838484kr4&4&4

“Wait— Are they?” Oh, so Richie’s here, too? Good. - oh great everyone’s here, bet squid is there too

NUZZLING NOSES

her old cat, her old pu-

Nuzzling your face into Syd’s cheek - squidink as she’s holding carm’s hand?? wild

“First of all, wrong placement.” - ofc it is

When shit happens, you call me - 🥺🥺🥺 bestie!!!

“Get your weird little hands off my Chip, you perv—” - LMFAOOOW DJEJEJDJDJ I LOVE HIM SO

and syd’s reply sidjdifi

“Y’know how going to a different barber is like cheating—?” - SJDJDJ GET HIS ASS CHIP. they swapped her for fucking ted fak???

“You’re still— We’re still sharing, right?” - SYD SHENJEHEJE

I’m sexually normal - very normal thing to say, it me tho

OMFG IF CHIP RECOGNIZES DONNA AND PETE FROM OUTSIDE THE RESTAURANT

“Baby’s do traditionally experience time, yeah.” “You n’ that smart mou—” - their dynamic is unmatched

You have to respect the power in that. “Damn.” - that reminded me of marcus

“Oooh, Charmin gets his first paycheck suddenly he’s all that—” “You wanna come up to my room or not?” - i was gonna comment on the charmin thing but HELLO1??1?23)kr3:kr

THEY CAN HANG. SURE BRO

THEYRE WATCHING RATATOUILLE OMGGGGG

Sleeveless black turtleneck? Maybe black palazzo pants - HOT

Please say yes to the white apron. Please say yes to his team. He'll get your initials monogrammed and everything. - *passes out*

the wonderful rat chef

ON GOD

“Yeah. I’ll answer.” - bc 🥺😭

“You’re fucking Carmen!” - GOODBYEEEE. not carmen outing them YET AGAIN

“So fuck you, actually.” - 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

“Fuck off! I’m already coming to fucking Time Square with you, don’t be whiny.”  - this is giving when dwight was like ‘of course i’ll get that stuff for you so just shut up’

“I nominate Carmen.” “I second the nom.” - tag-team<33

Don’t fuck in a fuckin’ Holiday Inn Chip’s worth mo - he’s so sweet and yet so???

HE CALLED CHIP BABY I REPEAT

It's absolutely going in Carmen's top five favourite expressions of yours. - 🕊️🕊️🕊️

“Syd said she will be knocking violently if I’m not back at midnight on the dot, yeah.” - SQUID GIVING HER GF A CURFEW

THE BERF SHIRT

“God, it’s over—” - squidink is so over rn😔

“Baby, just say you’re happy for me.” - BABY. THEYRE SO BACK

squid can stab men, a little, as a treat

You hand her your water bottle when you spot her looking at it. - 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

her instinct is to call chip, oh OH oh

“I didn’t ask you to be great.” Syd says it before she thinks it, and it’s enough to make your eyes water - MINE ARE RUNNING TOO ACTUALLY

God you’re dehydrated - *careless whisper plays* i mean what I SAID NOTHING

squid out🦑🦑

“It’s so crazy that you think that’s gonna happen—” - I LOVEEE SHEEE

Your shoulders touch as you both stare at the ceiling. - CUTIES

She hums, pointing to the popcorn tiles - namedrop! jk…unless?

“Oh my fucking God it’s that bad—”- GET THEIR ASSES SQUID

In front of everyone, accidentally while saying goodbye, off-handedly while hanging up, over text, and so on and so forth. - all of those are cute actually

“Now it’s three.” “Fuck, it’s gaining interest?!” - WE’RE SO BACK!!!!

“Wait, what the fuck, Syd, say it back!” - REAL!!

this was so cute!! just them and their adventures

LETS. GET. ROLLLINNGGGG!!!! (papers!!!) (we both can do drug jokes in this house!!!) (there will be a wip under all this as a treat I promise)

I’m honestly shocked Charmin isn’t a canon nickname (yet!!), cause like. IT DOES SOUND LIKE CARMEN!!! AND THE TOILET PAPER BEARS!!! AND THE TOILET PAPER BEARS ARE BLUE NOW TOO!!! WHAT THE HELL!!!

You are frfr an oracle with your memes, occasionally I look at em like hmmmmm,,,, this is gonnna be a lot funnier after the next one. My comedic Nostradamus genius. (the secrets of the universe ARE in the popcorn ceiling!! U!!)

The benefit about writing about food for people who did not come for food is that I also don’t have to fully understand what I’m saying. Had to look at a wagyu chart and make a lot of assumptions. I am not going to make steak with pop rocks to find out if it’s any good.

OKAY WHAT THE FUCK I S RICHIE’S JOB I’M BEING SO FR I DO NOT !!! Carmen’s Exec, Syd’s CDC/Head, Richie is… HR/Co-Manager/Host??? No wonder he can afford fuckin eras tour tickets bro is getting THREE DIFFERENT PAYCHECKS WHAT!!! But this does make sense. Bro IS THEE Human Resource.

Had to look up photos of sheep cats. Yeah that’s him. That’s Carmen but a Cat for sure.

RAHH. The held back I love yous are very. Very rah. Theres a lot of thought behind them for me but I shant share because I feel like that may give too much away I fear?

Carmichael burrowski is brought to you by seeing Carmichael company vans a lot and Mae Burrowski from Night in the Woods. Thank u both for ur service.

I completely forgot about the ‘that’s fucked’ convo with Fak until I saw a gifset and went OH YEAH…. It IS fucked. They are so stupid. They are also both unable to say I love you because that would be WEIRD!!!!!!!

I am so happy with the incredibly funny smooch because it was very much to mimic Carmen’s —

I think funny kisses are the way to go. There is something very charming (CHARMIN!) to me about awkwardly expressed consent.

YOU DIDN’T PUT THE RATATOULLIE MEME IN THIS ONE FOR THE PUBLIC TO ENJOY AND FOR THAT!!! YOU’VE DEPRIVED OUR PEOPLE!! i knew if I was gonna make him watch ratatouille and have him relate, he’d have to relate to more than just remy.

I’ll call them and let them know you love them, promise. Whenever they get out of the bathroom.

Carmen 30-Year Old Virgin Berzatto— Or 28-29, time line is UNCLEAR!! Regardless, I couldn’t take away my man’s one W. He fumbles most people, I had to let him have the one he canonically got. And also it was too fun to consider him absolutely STEWING as Tony recounts her emotional relationship with Mikey, just thinking in the background “I need to tell her I am in fact. NOT . a virgin!” I hate this man.

I WANT YOU IN EVERY SENTENCEEE RRAAAWHWHWHEHE!!! Loved that. Loved writing that paragraph. Love love. Love wanting to have someone so intrinsically in your life that in order for someone to know you they have to know them. WOOOOOO!!!!!!!! Carmen give her a hickey before we have to confront the emotional implications, GET HER BOY!!

Well how much did you bet on syd being there because now I owe you

CHIPS GOT TWO HANDS FOR A REASON BABY!!! I’m kidding the triangle would never work. But they should try anyways.

Whole Richie scene makes me :)) it’s fun to navigate these two going through like, so many internal emotions obviously over Chip’s trauma dump, and deciding what Richie would actually take a moment to comment on. And I think it absolutely has to be the ‘imagine your friends are dead’, bro 100% HAD TO BE HELD BACK FROM RAMMING THE DOOR DOWN TRULY TRULY. Don’t imagine I’m fuckin dead cousin!!!!!! I’m not a fuckin ghost!!! Call me!!!!!!!!! I am literally your guy!!!!!

Watching season 3 and seeing half of the season unnecessarily focusing on a Handyman (Ted) really had me clutching my pearls like. Bro. where’s my baby. Who the fuck does this guy think he is. This is CHIP TURF!!

BIG SHOUT OUT TO SYDNEY ‘THE SQUID’ ‘SEXUALLY NORMAL’ ADAMU!~

Donna!! Donna!! Finally semi-time that I have to face my white whale of writing,,, da mom… I’m still mentally tackling how to write her, but we’ll get there when we get there…. (truly thought she was gonna fucking die this season I didn’t think I was gonna have to DEAL WITH IT!!)

Everyone simultaneously did a record scratch at ‘do you want to come up to my room’ and I think that’s beautiful. I think that’s everything I wanted and more. They can hang bro. and watch ratatouille. Like hang out and be normal and fantasize about easily removable aprons with monogramming done.

Carmen is a certified shoe in his mouth yapper. Sugar, hand the crown to your brother, you may step off your throne; because this fucker has gotten caught like three separate times simply by being himself.

VERY DWIGHT Very like, sibling texting ‘fuck you I hate you what do you want from mcdonalds im omw home’. That’s the Richip dynamic to me. And then they kill carm.

Chip baby!!! This is not a drill he finally called her a pet name!! men, to your stations! And she didn’t even have the brain to COMPUTE IT, alas.

The post squid scene was so tough I was like, ‘do I cut this and just end on carmen?’ but then I knew, I’d never write this scene, cause spoiler alert, we’re doing a very slight time skip. So like. I just wanted Squidink to have their actual last beat to their sad no contact era because!!! So many feelings to be had over not contacting your boy in forever!!! But god its so OVER!

‘Didn’t ask you to be great’ is SUCH a punch to the gut, esp for a people pleaser like Chip (or me, man). Like. Fuckin. GOD. It’s the same sentiment Richie had in Just Dropped with ‘I’d love you even if you weren’t useful’, but like, this side of it is pre-useful. Like. Not only would I love you if you weren’t useful, I would never ASK you to be useful. HELL.

All of those I love yous are cute you say? Well I will have to up my game in coming up with something truly mortifying, then.

Shout out to me, directing on set, and demanding that my crew says it back when I say I love you. Genuinely my ‘Heard’ is a reciprocated ‘I love you’. No one call Richie/HR.

also the memes. immaculate as always. AND THE AUTHOR/CHIP COMPARISON,,, ART IMITATES LIFE, what can i say? if carmen/chip manage to live together at a point i really can't imagine him denying anything she wants. i think he would only have opinions on the kitchen and maybe efficiency of moving through spaces. (WE NEED TO PUSH THE COFFEE TABLE BACK!!! SIDLING AGAINST IT TO GET TO THE COUCH IS CAUSING A 3.4 SECOND DELAY IN MOVIE TIME!!!!) psycho.

Anyways. As always, a pweasure to hear your thoughts. I am hoping next weekend will finally be the fucking weekend I put something out. It’s hard slugging through this next chapter because it’s basically our so much fucking dialogue chapter, and navigating action and meaning AROUND that has been a nightmare. I think I’m probably over thinking the fuck out of it, to be fair. I feel so bad making y’all wait, so here is a juicer snippet.

THANK YOU LOVE YOU APPRECIATE ALL UR PATIENCE AND ALL UR THOUGHTS I LOVE TO HEAR FROM YALL!!

[shehanazindia]

9 Vibrant Navratri Outfit Ideas To Celebrate Each Night In Style

Navratri, one of the prominent festivals in India is a time of joy, dance, and colourful celebrations. Each of the nine nights is marked by a specific colour, offering a wonderful excuse to showcase your style. 

Let’s explore some outfits that will help you look your best each day of the festival.

Day 1: Yellow 

Kick off the festival with a burst of sunshine! The Nayab Mishti Yellow Floral Angrakha Kurta Set is a perfect choice. This delightful outfit features intricate floral patterns that are both cheerful and elegant. Paired with a flowing dupatta, it gives a lovely traditional touch while keeping you comfortable for all the festivities.

Day 2: Green 

On the second day, opt for a refreshing vibe with the Chandani Heena Chanderi Hand Block Printed Dupatta. This dupatta, with its artistic hand-block prints, can elevate any outfit. You can wear it with a simple kurta or even a contemporary dress. The green hues symbolize growth and harmony, perfect for the spirit of the festival.

Day 3: Grey 

For the third night, consider the sophisticated Farzeen Bridavan Phool Pleated Dress. The elegant grey fabric adorned with delicate floral prints offers a subtle yet chic look. With its pleated design, this dress enables easy of movement, making it ideal for dancing the night away while staying stylish.

Day 4: Orange 

Day four calls for vibrancy! The Faiza Bulbul Wajida Kurta and Palazzo Set in a striking orange is just the thing. This is a kurta that stands out with its beautiful peony patterns and offers a comfortable fit. It’s perfect for the lively garba nights, adding a pop of colour to your celebration. 

Day 5: White 

On the fifth day, opt for purity with the Gulnaaz Sherjeena White Cotton Kurta Set. This ensemble is both graceful and versatile. The lightweight cotton keeps you cool while the accompanying dupatta adds a touch of elegance. White symbolizes peace, making it a serene choice for the celebrations.

Day 6: Red

As we are halfway through, on the sixth day, wear the stunning Nayab Noor Maroon Muslin Kurta Set with Dupatta. The rich red colour is bold and festive, perfect for this spirited night. The luxurious silk fabric will make you feel special, while the intricate prints showcase the beauty of traditional craftsmanship. 

Day 7: Blue 

For the seventh day, the Nayab Madhuri Aqua Floral Gharara Kurta Set With Dupatta offers a calm yet striking appearance. The blue tones create a beautiful contrast against the vibrant festivities. With block prints that tell a story, this kurta set is stylish and meaningful, making it a great choice for any Navratri event. 

Day 8: Pink 

Day eight is all about charm, and the Rooh Ruhani Pink Kurta Set with Dupatta is just that. This soft pink outfit radiates warmth and joy, making it perfect for the occasion. The flowy fabric and elegant design allow you to enjoy the night with ease, all while looking lovely. 

Day 9: Purple

Conclude the festival in style with the Nayab Madhuri Purple Floral Gharara Kurta Set. This gorgeous outfit features a stunning gharara style that is both trendy and traditional. The rich purple colour symbolizes luxury and creativity, making it a fitting finale for the celebrations. 

To sum up, as Navratri unfolds, these nine outfits will keep you stylish and comfortable throughout the festival. Each day’s colour not only reflects the spirit of the festival but also allows you to express your unique style. So, gear up, enjoy the festivities, and let your outfits tell a story!

[bitter-limelight]

"Oh, Amadeo, what a fright," sighed Marius that evening as he returned to his rooms. It was a cool, rainy winters night and he'd left Amadeo the morning before with trepidation. He'd been feeling poorly. A little cold, Marius knew, nothing more. Just the result of rambunctious boys who were out in the cold and drinking too much. A sniffle, and he had made sure Amadeo would spend the day in bed under Vincenzo's care. Tea, soup, sleep. He would be fine, yet Marius still felt a deep anxiety as he'd had to leave him, and that had carried over to the moment he woke. He was at his side back at his grand palazzo the moment he could be, to find Amadeo still pink-cheeked from a slight fever, a sniffle every other breath, and his hair damp from sleep sweat.

"You left me the whole day, Master, that's the true fright," said Amadeo with a whine to his voice, but it was a half hearted wine. He knew Marius couldn't help to be away. He didn't get out a word to what his beloved God was, but he'd learned that nothing could be done about their separation. Still, it didn't make the seperation any easier. He hated every moment Marius was taken from him, to the point where were it not for his brothers, he could come to hate the sun.

Amadeo raised himself up to sit in bed as Marius approached, his white night shirt slipping down one broadening shoulder and his hair sticking up in 20 different directions. Marius laughed, crouching to sit on the edge of his bed beside him, the thick winter covers plush beneath him. "Well at least I know you obeyed me, and stayed in bed," said Marius as he reached out to give a fond tug on Amadeo's frizzy curls. Amadeo gave a sour look and shook his head, before reaching up and cupping Marius' hand to his cheek. He frowned at the warmth he felt, but determined it was less than it had been before. He was already getting better.

"Have I ever disobeyed you, Maestro?"

"More times in the last year than I can count on both hands," Marius supplied. He stroked his thumb over Amadeo's soft cheek, and bent to kiss him. He felt just as warm to his lips. "Naughty thing."

"As though you would have me any other way," countered Amadeo. Marius could tell he was tired and wondered how long he had been up. Well, he would sleep more. A wash to his face and neck would help him feel better, to start.

"Hmm." He gave a noncommittal hum, not wanting to encourage that sassiness and yet not wanting to stifle it at all either. He found it equal parts infuriating and endearing and even nearly a year into their affair he wasn't sure how to manage both warring feelings. So he did what he always did, and ignored them. Instead he held out a hand, a brush from across the room on his desk slipping into his hand. He'd long ago stopped hiding his "magic" from Amadeo.

"You should tie back your hair while you sleep," said Marius gently as he adjusted where he sat, slipping behind Amadeo and bringing his mess of curls over his shoulders. He started at the end, using his fingers and the bristles of the brush to begin gently undoing all the knots and tangles.

"I did," he argued with a pout to his voice. "But I kept tossing about all day and it came undone. Then I couldn't find the ribbon and I was too tired to get up and find another."

This was an acceptable excuse to Marius, and he kissed Amadeo's cheek so the boy would know he was not being scolded in the least. Working through a particularly tough knot, he kept the loc of hair carefully, not wanting to hurt Amadeo at all. Quietly they say the next ten minutes as he brushed out his hair, the curls now rather bushy and frizzy but that was fine. When he felt better, they would have a bath together as was their way, and he would wash and oil his hair for him. For now, though, he simply wound it back into a neat, tight braid, fishing the errant ribbon from the folds in the sheets to tie off the end.

"There," he murmured as he laid the braid over Amadeo's shoulder, and then eased the boy back to lay with him among the sheets. "My beautiful boy, my love. Rest now." And Amadeo closed his eyes, sleeping better then than he had the entire day.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The Lost Cause prologue (part 2)

On October 7–8, I'm in Milan to keynote Wired Nextfest.

My next novel is The Lost Cause, out on November 14; it's a hopeful tale of the fights we'll face after we address the polycrisis. Bill McKibben called it "The first great YIMBY novel":

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865939/the-lost-cause

As with my other books, I've had to produce my own audiobook for this one. Amazon won't carry any of my audio, so I make my own and pre-sell them through Kickstarter, along with ebooks and hardcovers (including signed, personalized hardcovers). The Kickstarter's going really well, and there's still time to back it:

http://lost-cause.org

Yesterday, I kicked off a serialization of the book's prologue, which jumps straight into the action:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/06/green-new-deal-fic/#the-first-generation-in-a-century-not-to-fear-the-future

And now, here's part two:

He was so surprised he fumbled the sledge, then squinted at me. I held the flash under my chin, squinting. “It’s me. Brooks. Palazzo. Richard’s grandson.”

That was when the siren blatted down on Verdugo, blatt blatt, two toots, and a crackle of PA. “On the roof, this is Burbank PD.” He did drop the sledge then, said, “Fuck,” and produced a water pistol from the suit’s marsupial pouch. He handled it with extreme care, shedding a glove to delicately peel away a big blob of some kind of plastic or wax over the business end. His hand shook.

I knew what it was. Hydrochloric acid. It was the weapon of choice for one-­on-­one white nationalist killings. It worked great, because even if you didn’t kill your victim, you’d leave them with skin melted and fused like cascades of melted rubber, a reminder to everyone who saw them that even if President Uwayni took away everyone’s guns, the American resistance was still armed and fucking dangerous. Gramps and his buddies would sometimes make jokes about Medicare for All, and how it was gonna go broke paying for acid burns when the big one came. I’d always found those jokes incredibly gross, but I learned to tune them out. They were coming back to me now. I took a step back and his hand jerked and I cried out, flinching in anticipation of the stream of acid that didn’t come.

“Dammit, boy, don’t scare me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t want to be hurt. Mr. Kennedy—­Mike—­you know my gramps. He relies on me. He’s getting old and frail. I’m all he has.”

I was crying now. A drop of clear liquid fell from the squirt gun’s business end and sizzled on the roof. I whimpered. “Please. Just put that down, we’ll go get the cops and—­”

“I’m not going anywhere. Listen, kid, turn off your camera, okay? I gotta say some things to you.”

“Mike, please—­” I was crying harder now. His hand was really shaking, and his finger was on the trigger, and the gun was pointed right at my face.

“Just do it, okay?” He pointed the gun at the ground, and I found I could breathe again. I pretended to turn off my screen and triggered the sound file I had of the “Recording paused” announcement.

“All right, kid. Straight talk. I don’t expect to survive this. I knew that was a chance from the start, and it was a sure thing once you got here and sounded the alarm. I made my peace with that possibility a long time ago.” He took some deep breaths that the voice-­ shifter made into the sound of a wind tunnel. He pulled the ghillie suit’s mask down and exposed the rest of his face. His lips and chin were shiny with wet sweat in the reflected flashlight beam bouncing up from the roof.

“God dammit, I’m not gonna kid you, this is a stupid thing to die over, but I was gonna die eventually. But you don’t have to. You can get out of this in one piece. You can carry on the struggle.” His real voice was hoarse with emotion.

Something about his real voice and his real face made me more scared, not less. Gramps’s friends were usually just . . . ​sour. But there was often this undercurrent of violence in them, a bowstring tension that sometimes snapped. Usually that just meant yelling or throwing something or storming out and slamming the door so hard the whole house shook. But every now and then, it turned into punches, and everyone in the room would pull the fighting men apart, and once or twice there had been blood on the floor before they were separated.

I had never been in a fight, not since grade school anyway, and had never thrown a real punch. I found the idea of punching someone literally unimaginable. But I was finding it incredibly easy to vividly imagine this guy punching me.

“Mike, you don’t have to die, we can talk to the cops. This is Burbank PD, not LAPD. They’ll negotiate. They’re not gonna shoot you. Not if you don’t give them a reason to. Why don’t you put down—­”

The roof was flooded with blinding light and the roar of a quadrotor as a BPD drone rose up over us, floodlights set to max. We both staggered back, hair blowing in the rotor wash, and squinted. Mike involuntarily squirted a small stream of acid that arced over the roof, then got his gun under control.

“THIS IS THE BURBANK POLICE DEPARTMENT. PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND LACE YOUR HANDS OVER YOUR HEAD. COMPLY IMMEDIATELY.”

He swore fiercely and pointed his gun at the drone.

“No!” I shouted. “Jesus, Mike, do you want to fucking die?”

He stared at me. His eyes were wild and unhinged. His mouth worked soundlessly, and then he shouted, “What the fuck does it matter to you?”

“Because—­” I almost said, Because I want to fight on your side and we need you. I could have sold the line, even though I didn’t believe it. Even though he was a terrorist kook whose cause was both idiotic and terrible. I could have sold it because I’m a good actor, even by Burbank standards, where the star of the school play might be moonlighting from their job as an A-­lister for one of the studios. But I didn’t say it. I didn’t want to lie to this guy. “Because there’s enough stupid death out there. Because I don’t want to explain to Gramps how I saw his poker buddy blown away by BPD on my high-­school roof. Because it’s a stupid way to die. Because it won’t accomplish a goddamned thing.” I found that I was angry. God, why did people have to be so stupid? Why was I sitting around with this idiotic person having this idiotic argument, waiting for the cops to storm the roof and maybe kill us both?

“Fuck this,” I said. I stalked over to him. The drone dipped toward us, making him flinch, and I was able to grab his stupid water pistol full of acid and wrench it out of his shaking hand and send it skittering over the smashed solar panels. “There,” I said, and turned to the drone. “I’ve disarmed this goddamned idiot. Don’t shoot him. And don’t shoot me—­I’m a bystander.”

The drone’s PA clicked back on. “That was really stupid, kid.”

Mike looked like he wanted to cry or punch me.

“This whole thing is really stupid,” I said. “But it doesn’t have to be violent, too.”

“We’re coming up. Lace your hands behind your head.”

Mike opened his mouth.

“Just do it,” I snapped. “I just saved your fucking life, asshole. Do what the nice policewoman says.”

They burst through the roof door a minute later, and we both laced our hands behind our heads. They cuffed and searched both of us, relieving Mike of a long hunting knife and what I took for hand grenades, but which turned out to be flashbangs.

After patting me down and conferring, they uncuffed me and led me away from Mike, who was looking miserable and scared.

They took a statement from me in the cruiser, tapped my ID to their scanner, conferred a while longer, read messages on their screens that I couldn’t see—­the cops all had polarizing privacy screens on their devices—­and finally let me go.

The cop who opened the back of the cruiser for me was a big, jowly guy, someone who would have looked perfectly at home with Gramps and his pals, rocking a red trucker cap and complaining about “illegals.” But he was tender with me as he helped me up and asked me twice if I needed help getting home. I pointed out that I lived a ten-­minute walk away—­he knew that from my ID, of course—­and that I hadn’t been hurt.

There had been six Burbank PD SUVs on the street when they led me down, but by the time they let me go, there were only two. The other one had Mike in the back, behind reflective windows. Even though I couldn’t see him, I could feel his eyes on me as I turned and started to walk home. It was 3:27 a.m., and I was both completely wired and completely exhausted.

I let myself into Gramps’s place by the back door, made my way back to my bedroom, stripped off, and pulled the covers over me.

Who was I kidding? I wasn’t going to sleep after that. I rolled over and hit my screen. I had a notification that my livestream had been archived and that I could toggle it private if I wanted to, but that it was also going to be subject to FOIA requests because I’d used the 911 option and it had gone straight to Burbank PD.

I reviewed the footage. It was crazy of course—­the dark night slashed with my flashlight beam, the screen’s night-­sight flicking off and on—­but the audio was good and once things stabilized, the image was clear enough. I jumped it up to 3X and listened to Mike Kennedy in chipmunk mode spouting his crazy Maga Club garbage. Even at that speed, I picked up on stuff I’d missed, little bits of inflection and vocab, and most of all, how scared he sounded. He’d been more scared than me. I guess that made sense, because he was so sure that he was going to die. Look at it that way, I had saved his life.

And as soon as I looked at it that way, I knew it was true. I had saved his life. I’d saved a man’s life the night before. A man who had been ready to kill me. Or if he hadn’t been, he’d said he was.

The realization let something loose inside me and I started to yawn. I pasted a link to the video into my feed and dialed the syndication wheel all the way open because why not, it was freaky and everyone shares freaky stuff wide as possible.

I tapped out a message to the Burroughs High attendance office letting them know I was going to be late for school, then I put my screen down, thumped my pillow, and, amazingly, fell asleep.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/07/met-cute-ugly/#part-ii

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Social relevance: Sussexes vs Windsors by u/Mickleborough

Social relevance: Sussexes vs Windsors Went down a rabbit hole which referred to the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, which made me wonder who were the greater social outcasts: Sussexes or Windsors? for my impression of the Windsors was that they lived off what friends, acquaintances, and social climbers would have them.The exit dates are:- Edward VIII abdicated on 10 December 1936, aged 42;- Megxit took place on 31 March 2020.One Moment in TimeOnce the dust from World War II had settled, some truly extravagant balls - seemingly all (justifiably, from all accounts) called the party of the century - were thrown by the very rich for the elite: other rich people, actors, intellectuals, royalty.The Windsors were invited to all of the parties of the century, apart from one:- Le Bal Oriental, the first great ball after WW2 and dubbed The Party of the Century, thrown in 1951 by Count Carlos de Beistegui at his home in Venice, the Palazzo Labia (Windsors were no show)- The Black and White Ball, a masquerade (men in black tie and black mask, women in black or white, white mask), given by the writer Truman Capote at the Plaza Hotel in New York, in 1966 (Windsors again were a no show) - see Vanity Fair article for some idea of the fuss: archived / unarchived- The Proust Ball, held by Baron and Baroness Guy de Rothschild in 1971, at their hunting estate outside Paris, the Château de Ferrières - so the Windsors were relevant even after 35 years.(The Rothschilds topped the Proust Ball with their Surrealist Ball in 1972, to which the Windsors seemingly hadn’t been invited - then again, the Duke of Windsor had died about 7 months earlier.)When You BelieveWorking royalty’s always at the top of the society tree, even in these republican (ie anti-monarchist) days - there simply aren’t that many of them, so they have curiosity value.So Harry’s position is clear. Meghan probably believes that she belongs to the upper echelons because she’s (cough) beautiful, (cough) intelligent, (cough) charming, and can dispense platitudes, I mean sage advice, that’ll revolutionise society.So to what equivalent function have they been invited? All I can think of is the Salute to Freedom Gala in November 2021.Best leg forward, Meghan! Fabulous A Chorus Line legwork precision with Harry.Every other function’s been a bought awards ceremony or connected with Invictus (requiring no evening wear).Didn’t We Almost Have It AllThe Sussexes believed that, following Megxit, they’d be courted and fêted. Because people would be clamouring to have them, they felt compelled to make it clear with whom they’d mingle: Express archived / unarchived.To be fair, times have changed, and grand private balls no longer are given. The equivalent, I suppose, would be fundraisers, the ones where you dress up and fling on jewels. But the Sussexes have neither bought tables, nor been invited. Before every first Monday in May, we’re entertained by the reasons why Meghan won’t be attending the invitation-only fundraiser Met Gala - it started off with them having no time for such frivolity, and now revolves around concerns for their security (Mirror archived / unarchived).I Have NothingThat’s going to be the case if American River Orchil doesn’t produce anything. And by ‘nothing’, I mean reputation.EDIT: It was a Truman Capote vs The Swans rabbit hole. I can recommend the non-fiction Swan Song by Kelleigh Jephcott-Greenberg. post link: https://ift.tt/a4Dk8Lc author: Mickleborough submitted: April 01, 2024 at 10:23PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[thefixeraa]

palazzo serenzo , via degli archi , 12 florence , italy .

background : palazzo serenzo is a historical building from the 15th century . the di conti family , a prestigious and one of the most prominent noble families in florence , commissioned the architect leonardo de'amici . the thing about the di conti family is , there isn't much known about them . their family is a closely guarded secret , where only a known select few know of their true identities . thus using their title to serve as a symbol of their noble lineage and historical significance in florence .

their family can only be traced back to wealthy merchants who amassed great wealth and power through their successful trading ventures . with their wealth , the di conti family became influential patrons of the arts , supporting renowned artists , architects , and scholars at the time . they were known for the passion for collecting rare artifacts ( some of which mia is in possession of today . ) they commissioned elaborate frescos , hosted lavish gatherings at their palazzo , which became a hub of cultural and intellectual exchange .

the di conti family played a pivotal part in the political landscape of florance , often holding positions of influence and participating in key decision - making processes . they were esteemed for their diplomatic skills , strategic alliances , and their commitment to perserving the city's cultural heritage .

mia's residency in the ancestral palazzo of the di conti family represents a continuation of their legacy , as she findes herself surrounded and enamored by the remnants of a bygone era .

the apartment : mia bought the two upper floors of pallazzo serenzo during a time of transformation . she had just returned to public life after a year and a half underground . it was during this time that she was working as the fixer . the apartment contains four bedrooms , one including the large master bedroom , two bathrooms , a large eat - in kitchen with a seprate formal dining room . a library with hundreds of books adorning the bookcases . a more traditional armory that hold some 15th century military artifacts and then some . with the captivating blend of historical charm and timeless elegance , mia's apartment begins at the entrance , with a heavy wooden double door , leading to a long hallway that showcases the first fresco ( a celestial panorama , one with a rich night sky , adorned with twinkling stars and constellations . with a radiant full moon and surrounding it some etherial figures of mythological creatures . ) another fun fact about the di conti family is that they were catholic , but believed in science too . some believe that the patriarch of the family was an astronomer .

the hallway holds a few artifacts and paintings that mia has collected over the years . tall windows lining the left side , with dark wooden panels that are opened most of the year . the living room is further down the hall and to the right , it is adorned with more frescos that grace the walls - mia kept the walls a more neutral tone , a warmer white so that the antiques and art work can hold presence there . there is a large , antique persian rug that graces the rich , dark hardwood floors . off to the right is the formal dining room , where a refurbished farmhouse table sits in the center of the room . it can host around eight to ten people . the kitchen resides further on , and mia opted to keep the utilities more modern here , although attempting to keep up with the rustic vibes that was there originally . considering she lives on the upper floors , the original kitchen is on the ground floor , so she had options .

the four bedrooms are divided , with the master bedroom on the ' first floor ' . mia created a warm and comforting room , oping for a four - poster bed , crafted from aged mahogany . the bed is dressed with layers of linen sheets and fluffy pillows . she has a vanity table on the other side of the room , which is also where her walk - in closet is situated . there she has an ornate gilded mirror , which is brass and also an antique . throughout the apartment , among the many artifacts and vintage art , there are a few chandelier's which hang from the tall ceilings . all of which are designed to emulate the glow of candlelight and create an enchanting atmosphere in the evenings .

** below mia lives an elderly couple , luciano and maria amato . luciano is a retired professor of literature and maria who was more of a traditional housewife . they both are friendly , inviting , charming and of course - full of wisdom and humor . **

[musicboxghost]

I've been listening to Midnight Burger and having a great time so far. ❤️ Podcasts always make me want to learn visual art bc I have *such* a clear vision of these characters in my head, but no way to have them realized.

So, if you please, my HCs of the diner crew's physical appearances:

-Gloria: Latin American woman with medium brown complexion. Thick, straight black hair with streaks of gray that are a slightly frizzier texture than the black and tend to escape her high ponytail like the shorter face-angled strands and flyaways. Midsize build. She's got hips, thighs, a little tum, but definition in her arms bc kitchens are *hard work*. 5'7. Thick brows that frame big brown eyes. Dimples. Full face. Low rise, well-worn boot cut jeans (an early aughts favorite of hers), fitted local businesses T-shirt (like a favorite hometown coffeeshop she's supporting) apron tied around hips (functionally a big pocket for sugar packets and such), comfortable sneakers with good tread. Confident and friendly body language (ex. Smiling with comfortably crossed arms)

-Leif: White Slavic man (I think diner food, I think hometown comforts like pierogi/ paprikash/ stroganoff/ etc) with fair skin, sunburn across a broad nose with prominent bump in the bridge. Shoulder length, faded purple hair with ~4 inches of light brown roots showing, pulled into a messy low ponytail. 6'3. Big and broad with a bit of padding to him. Poorly shaven in general with a tiny little goatee/ soul patch. Deeply hooded, gregarious green eyes. Wide mouth and easy smile. Big hands. White muscle tank, black kitchen utility pants, full length dark apron, converse held together with duct tape and space junk that stopped being white years ago, casino visor worn backwards.

-Ava: Kurdish American woman with golden brown skin, gray almond shape eyes alight with energy and knowledge. Long hawk nose. Curly dark hair worn loose and big, practically gravity-defiant with lots of bounce. 5'11. Willowy build, very angular. Galaxy off freckles sprayed across her heart-shape face. Dresses femme and very comfortable. Lots of soft colors and mismatched pieces (ex.light cotton cardigan with some midriff exposure, capri length palazzo pants, velvet slippers or leather moccasins, but unusual accessories like Mardi gras beads/ a chunky sci-fi gadget watch/ cigarette tucked behind the ear. Lots of emphasis on lush fabrics, comfort, and defiant playfulness and femininity)

-Caspar: Black man with dark brown complexion. Taper with long twist out at crown and bangs. Thick glasses. 5'5. Athletic build. Very disheveled businessware (ex. Button downs with a few buttons undone, some misaligned, and no tie, half-untucked to slacks that are too long, etc). Heavy eye bags. Lots of mysterious dramatic bruises. Dark top surgery scars sometimes visible through the gaps of the world's-most-poorly-worn dress shirts. (This man is tired and stressed. He should look like it).

I'm not very far yet but I think the diner crew are just delightful ❤️ Now that I've got my version of them solidified in my head, I'm so excited to look for everyone else's HCs/ art 💓

[fabcurate]

Lehenga Blauj Design Inspirations: Modern Takes on a Classic Combo

The combination of a lehenga and blouse, or lahanga blauj design, has long been a staple in traditional Indian fashion. However, as fashion evolves, this classic pairing is constantly being reimagined with contemporary twists. From modern cuts and bold hues to versatile styles, the lehenga blauj has become more than just a traditional piece—it's now a statement of personal style. In this blog, we’ll explore innovative blouse inspirations like the trendy crop top blauj, the understated charm of a white blauj, and the striking appeal of a red blauj. Whether you're attending a wedding, celebrating festivals, or embracing fusion fashion, these designs have got you covered.

The Evolution of Lahanga Blauj Design

Traditional lahanga blauj design is rooted in intricate embroidery, classic cuts, and rich fabrics that exude heritage. While these elements remain timeless, modern iterations of the blouse incorporate contemporary trends like off-shoulder cuts, bold necklines, and playful patterns.

Today’s designs cater to diverse preferences, offering versatility in how they can be styled. From pairing a minimal white blauj with a heavily embellished lehenga to choosing a trendy crop top blauj for a fusion-inspired look, the possibilities are endless.

Creative Inspirations for Pairing Blouses with Lehengas

1. Crop Top Blauj: A Modern Spin on Tradition

One of the biggest trends in modern lahanga blauj design is the crop top blauj. This versatile piece blends the charm of tradition with the comfort and edginess of contemporary fashion. A crop top blauj works beautifully with high-waisted lehengas, making it ideal for young bridesmaids or festive gatherings.

Opt for a sleeveless design or ruffled details for a playful vibe, or go with full sleeves and bold patterns for a more formal occasion. This style also seamlessly transitions into fusion wear—pair it with palazzos or skirts for an effortless chic look.

2. White Blauj: Timeless Elegance for Any Occasion

A white blauj is a wardrobe staple that exudes grace and sophistication. Perfect for daytime events, this blouse pairs exceptionally well with pastel or floral lehengas, creating an ethereal aesthetic.

For a more formal look, choose a white blauj with lace detailing, sheer sleeves, or intricate embroidery. Whether you’re attending a mehendi ceremony or a summer wedding, this neutral choice ensures a classic yet modern vibe.

3. Red Blauj: Bold and Beautiful

When it comes to making a statement, nothing beats the vibrant allure of a red blauj. This fiery hue is synonymous with weddings and traditional celebrations, making it a favorite for bridal wear.

Pair a heavily embroidered red blauj with a golden or ivory lehenga for a regal look. Alternatively, a simple red blauj in satin or silk can be styled with a bold, printed lehenga for a contemporary twist. No matter how you wear it, this color guarantees attention and admiration.

Occasion-Wise Styling Tips for Lehenga Blauj Designs

Weddings

For weddings, go all out with a heavily embellished lahanga blauj design featuring intricate zari, mirror work, or bead detailing. Pair it with a matching or contrasting lehenga for a royal ensemble. Bold choices like a red blauj are perfect for the bride, while a white blauj offers a refreshing option for bridesmaids.

Festive Celebrations

Festivals call for bright colors and creative designs. A crop top blauj with playful patterns or sequins is a great choice for dance-heavy occasions like Navratri or sangeet ceremonies. Pair it with a flowy lehenga for comfort and style.

Fusion Fashion

For those who love blending traditional and modern fashion, the lehenga blauj can be a versatile piece. Pair a structured crop top blauj with a high-waisted lehenga skirt or even wide-legged pants for a chic fusion look. Add a statement belt or jacket for an extra edge.

Why Modern Blauj Designs Are Here to Stay

The adaptability of lahanga blauj design is what makes it so popular. Whether you’re drawn to the simplicity of a white blauj, the boldness of a red blauj, or the trendiness of a crop top blauj, there’s a style for everyone. Modern designs embrace individuality and offer endless ways to mix and match, ensuring that every woman can express her personality through her outfit.

By investing in a few versatile blauj styles, you can effortlessly create stunning looks for various occasions without the need for an entirely new wardrobe. The blend of tradition and modernity ensures that these designs remain relevant for years to come.

Conclusion

The journey of the lehenga blauj from a traditional staple to a contemporary fashion statement highlights the creativity and innovation in Indian fashion. With options like the modern crop top blauj, the elegant white blauj, and the bold red blauj, there’s no limit to how you can style this classic combo.

Whether it’s for weddings, festive celebrations, or casual outings, experimenting with lahanga blauj design allows you to stand out while staying connected to your roots. So, let your creativity shine and embrace the magic of the lehenga blauj—a timeless pairing that continues to inspire fashion enthusiasts everywhere.

[indianclothingusa]

ICYMI: pakistani clothing Ready for an epic shopping spree? Off White Silk Kurta Palazzo Set With Potli Bag, at a mind-blowing price of $250.00 Don't wait! #easternbeauty #lehengacholi #halalchic #indiandesigner #lehenga #pakistaniclothes #pakistanicouture #dulhandress #ethniccouture #pakistanifood http://dlvr.it/TGynZ1 amzi collections usa

[aequoranimae]

4th-7th july

I had no time to linger in the beauty of Venice on the morning I left. Leaving my keys in the door to my room, I crossed back over the Rialto for the last time to Venezia S. Lucia, subsumed by a crowd of mostly Americans either arriving or taking off, followed by their small entourages of children and suitcases. After a bit of cross-language miscommunication I managed to order a croissant and a cappuccino from the station café and board my train to Florence. Our carriage was overflowing with Americans—their endless complaints and random commentary brought all the chaos of the station on board with us. Behind me one large blonde family fought over where to put their truckload of suitcases, the mother loudly accusing the carriage of taking their luggage spots; in front of me a Mississippi woman and her two daughter all one by one took out their makeup bags to apply a full face as the train moved; they bonded with a couple from Detroit with their young children over bottles of wine from the train café. All of this at eleven in the morning with only a two-hour trip to Florence seemed really unnecessary, but once they got started there was no icy glare from the older German woman beside me that could stop them. I suppose it was July 4th (“our country’s birthday!”, as the luggage-afflicted mother exclaimed at some point), so they were bound to be excitable.

Arriving in Florence I escaped these travelling companions and decided to walk as fast as I possibly could to my accommodation—I was already so sweaty and miserable that it seemed worth it to get it other with as soon as possible. The pavements were very narrow and well-patronised and the only relief was when I arrived upon the square of a church and was able to walk without risking any imminent collisions. My accommodation in Florence is a bed and breakfast on one of the streets that leads to the Duomo in the primordial soup of the tourist. I climbed to the first floor where I was greeted by one of my hosts and given some tips about the city until her husband came her with a very tearful child who needed a hug and I left them to it. My room is small and quiet, with an old-fashioned lock on the door I find too difficult to operate so I only close it behind me, and at least somewhat cool. When I settled enough to face going back out there to see Florence, I walked only twenty seconds down the street before I reached the piazza where the Duomo towered in its stark lines of white and deep blue-green, decorated everywhere with the saints and apostles, imposing on the cloudless sky. I admired it for a bit and then kept walking in search of a late lunch, given I’d eaten nothing since breakfast and had faced many tests to my fortitude in the meanwhile. Around the corner from the Palazzo Vecchio where I saw the Fountain of Neptune and a terrace of marble statues I skipped the absolutely huge line of tourists for one focaccia shop for the sake of the other focaccia shop next door, which was delicious and arrived instantly.

My next Florence mission, not so glamorous, was to do my clothes washing since I had nothing left to wear. So I sat sweating an a dingy laundromat until I could seize any empty machine. While I waited I walked around the corner to get a scoop of gelato—lemon flavour, an old favourite of mine that I don’t think I’d tried in a long time. I hauled my damp laundry back to hang up in my room and then flopped on the bed under the ceiling fan for a good long while. For dinner that night I did as my host had suggested and went across the river to eat at the better restaurants. On the way I saw the apparently well-known “Florence cowboy”, who was a man in appropriate Old West attire just sitting on his horse at one end of the bridge. Not moving, not saying anything. This man and his horse were as still and regal as the marble statues of Florence. And when I was coming back from my dinner of wild boar ragu and tiramisu at a very charming little restaurant beyond the Pitti Palace, he was still there, motionless as ever as the masses of tourists flowed around him and his steed. When I passed back by the Duomo, its walls were gold instead of ivory in the low sun.

My first morning in Florence I woke up especially early for my entrance to the Uffizi Gallery. While I sat outside waiting for my time slot I ate an apricot jam croissant and examined my rash of mosquito bites still raised on my arms and legs from Venice that made it look I had caught some type of plague. But at quarter to nine I left this study behind for the security line into the Uffizi, from there me and the other early patrons filed into the first rooms containing medieval altarpieces of the Madonna and Child. But everyone was really there for one reason—the signs on doors leading through the renaissance galleries and the halls and terraces of Greco-Roman busts for Botticelli. I wasn't an exception to these mob interests, for a long time Botticelli's Primavera has been an important work to me for no less populist reasons than most who show up in droves to photograph the Birth of Venus. It meant a great deal to me to see it with my own eyes, its soft forest floor and canopy rich with fruit and flower—and the figures, whose placement is not natural in the landscape, but iconographic. I was also touched by the Calumny of Apelles adjacent; of course the Birth of Venus had a room of its own, or at least any pictures of Botticelli’s on the surrounding walls went unnoticed by the crowd or by me. Outside in the long galleries I admired most of all the frescoed ceilings, some of which showed scenes of myth while others were of the grotesque style, strange creatures and pretty laurels painted on white and cream. What I found was that the rest of the Uffizi rooms downstairs were oddly quiet, not that I blame any person for really only coming to see the Botticellis. So after the initial stampede through the first ten rooms it became a very peaceful and civilised affair, most visitors not bothering with the lower galleries in the first place. By then it was still only ten o’clock, so even the gift shop was quiet as I secured my Primavera postcard and looked towards the rest of the day.

Feeling inspired, I committed to a hike up the hill on the other side of the river, reaching the summit of the old Belvedere fort where I could stand in the searing heat and look out across the city of Florence, white walls and the red-tiled roofs above them, and the Duomo rising most prominent between them, five times taller than the rest. From there I walked on dripping sweat to the Bardini gardens for a bit of shade under the trees in the muggy air, wishing I were one of so many little yellow-spotted skinks baking on the walls, accustomed to heat. I drank a limonata on ice on the terrace of the gardens overlooking the sloping green and the city beyond it. Two dark red squirrels played in the tree by the terrace, running in circles around the thickest branches before disappearing back into their hidden nest. Besides the cranes from restoration works dotting the skyline, the city seemed at a distance to be as it was five hundred years prior.

The illusion of course was shattered the moment I descended into the visitor centre on the gardens’ lower perimeter and came across a vending machine, but I didn’t mind so much, I enjoys the comforts of the modern world. For lunch I had a panini with anchovies and olive tapenade and crossed back over the river into the heart of the crowded city. I happened to pass by the Basilica of Santa Croce and decided to take a look inside at the paintings and the tombs of Florentine intellectuals. The basilica was beautiful within, frescoes still pretty and warmly coloured despite the ruination they suffered in floods some thirty years ago.

I got a scoop of gelato (stracciatella), I went back to my apartment for a rest before dinner. I worked out where to go for a bowl of pasta while standing outside a basilica ringing the evening bells—a street preacher came up to me babbling in Italian, waving his Bible, but I sent him on his way. For dinner I had a bowl of pasta with spicy tomato sauce not too far from home, as I was feeling a bit weary emotionally and needed to get to bed early—I had another early appointment the next day.

In the morning I walked over to the Palazzo Pitti beyond the river to see the Palatine Gallery there. Like the Uffizi these rooms were heavy with friezes and paintings on every available surface, mostly mythological scenes and pictures of the Medicis and the Italian rulers of later centuries. I liked most the painting of Judith with the head of Holofernes, still brandishing the sword. After the Palace I wandered around the city a bit and then went to meet my friend Maddy for lunch, who’s been doing a short course here during the university break as part of our Arts degree. We got sandwiches and sat on the steps of the Uffizi to eat, then we visited the Museo Nazionale del Bargello with a scoop of gelato on the way to keep us going. These galleries contained some religious relics and a lot of the classical decorative arts, including china and ivory statuettes. But downstairs the old palace possessed a hall full of sculptures by Michelangelo and his other great contemporaries, which were amazing even though by the end of the gallery tour we were feeling desperately thirsty and neither of us were wearing brilliant footwear (I have been surviving solely on a pair of Converse which are close to wearing right through the soles and have developed some structural issues after weeks in Europe; Maddy has been confined to ballet flats coming apart at the edges). So we each bought a litre and a half bottle of cold sparkling water from the supermarket and drowned our suffering all the way back to the Duomo, where she dropped me off at my door.

My dinner that night was no different to what I have been eating every night—pasta, thought his time with simple beef ragu instead of wild boar. I had less secure plans for the next day, willing to go where it took me—I ended up back outside the Fountain of Neptune and entered the Palazzo Vecchio, that at mid-morning still had no line inside, and I sailed in on my student ticket to see the rooms of Pope Leo X and the painted halls depicting great battles and the four elements with water that recollection of Botticelli, Venus emerging from the waves; and Diana on the ceiling opposite her brother, driving a chariot of one white horse and one black. I was amazed by the Palazzo Vecchio and found it far more beautiful than any of the other Florentine palaces I had seen so far, perhaps it had something less of the cold and neo-classical about it, even if its interiors were just as excessive. The best room in my eyes was the last one, which was no grand hall, but a smaller chamber whose walls were covered in a series of colourful maps from that antiquate era. The lands were marked on occasion by an animal like an elephant to signify the Orient, most bore no resemblance to world maps today. But the roots of thinking have not changed. We see the world through these eyes.

In the afternoon I visited some churches—the Chiesa di Santa Trinita where Caroline Bonaparte, the emperor’s younger sister, was buried. She was the wife of the Napoleonic general Murat, appointed King of Naples, but outliving the empire of her husband and her brother, she died unfavoured and her body was hidden and then buried for safekeeping there in that chapel. There is still a Prince Murat today and he has clearly made sure the tomb of his ancestor is well-preserved—the white marble was gleaming, almost too pure. In the floor of the chapel a tile indicated hic iacet for the place her coffin was placed, innocuously, deep below the surface. I followed my usual routine of a sandwich (this location’s special was a prosciutto and cream cheese filling, so delicious I almost collapsed there in the sweaty gutter from joy) and an afternoon rest in the semi-cool dark of my room. In the evening my friend Maddy reappeared outside my door and we walked across town to an eclectic little cocktail bar where the bartender worked like some sort of artisan, sculpting pieces of lime peel and treating each drink as a new masterpiece. Patience was a necessity as he worked away the hours at his craft. At nine we went around the corner to a traditional restaurant and I had my beloved wild boar ragu and Maddy ate polenta with braised meat. I ordered a glass of wine and our charming old Italian waiter poured with so much heart that we had to share it. After some tiramisu we paid up and wandered back through the city at night, laughing at ourselves. The city of Florence was still colourful, the carousel was still lit up, and they have powerful lights fixed to all the rooftops surrounding the Duomo, so at night time it still glows as stark white as in the day.

[srishti-123]

8 Ways to Wear Polki Jewellery with Modern Outfits

Source of info: https://www.jadaavjewels.com/blog/8-ways-to-wear-polki-jewellery-with-modern-outfits

Introduction

Combining fashionable clothes with Polki Jewellery results in gorgeous mix outfits that are perfect for any event. Off-shoulder shirts look stylish with chokers, and cocktail dresses look great with Polki earrings. Adding Polki bangles to hanging maxi skirts and layering them with jackets defines power styling. Evening dresses look great with huge Polki rings, while casual denim outfits benefit from the delicate beauty of Polki studs. Explore how to style these pieces with Jadaav Jewels, where each item features classic workmanship with modern fashion.

1. Statement Earrings with Western Dresses

Polki earrings suit well with western outfits, such as cocktail dresses or evening gowns, because of their beautiful workmanship and natural shine. For an outstanding look, go for huge Polki Jewellery like Chandbalis or Jhumkas. To highlight the earrings, wear them with delicate curls or a clean bun.

Tip: To show off the beauty of your Polki items from Jadaav Jewels, choose clothes in solid colors.

2. Chokers with Off-Shoulder Tops

A simple off-the-shoulder shirt can be upgraded to a high-end style with a polki choker. Polki chokers complex artwork adds beauty and draws attention. For a stylish and well-balanced appearance, pair this set with high-waisted skirts or fitted pants.

Pro Tip: Wear little makeup to highlight the jewellery and go nicely with the choker.

3. Layered Necklaces with Blazers

Wearing stacked Polki necklaces over a structured jacket can offer a beautiful touch to your power clothes. This combination gives a normally formal outfit a feminine touch while expressing confidence. It's a fantastic option for evening parties or business gatherings.

Styling Idea: To make your Polki Jewellery shine out, wear a basic jacket and jeans.

4. Polki Bangles with Maxi Dresses

A reasonable yet eye-catching request is added by using polki bangles with flowing maxi gowns. For outdoor parties, beach weddings, or casual breakfasts, this fusion style is perfect. The delicate simplicity of maxi dresses is wonderfully complemented by the delicate shine of polki accessories.

Tip: For more sparkle, wear your bangles with a Polki ring.

5. Polki Studs with Casual Denims

Who says wearing Polki Jewellery with everyday clothes isn't acceptable? Polki studs go well with white t-shirts and denim jackets since they are incredibly flexible. This combo is excellent for giving your regular outfit an extra touch of luxury without going overboard.

Pro Tip: For a fashionable and organized look, finish the whole thing with a Polki pendant.

6. Polki Rings with Evening Gowns

Your evening gown can be transformed into an outfit fit for the red carpet with only one large Polki ring. This delicate style maintains a pleasing appearance while highlighting Polki Jewellery's superb craftsmanship.

Styling Idea: To add even more improvement, pair your ring with earrings or a Polki bracelet.

7. Polki Brooches with Saree Gowns

A Polki brooch can be the perfect accessory to offer a royal touch to fusion outfits like saree gowns. For a style that is easily stylish, pin it on your waist or shoulder. Jadaav Jewels beautiful Polki brooches are perfect for these modern cultural fashions.

Tip: To make the brooch the main attraction of your ensemble, keep the rest of your jewellery basic.

8. Polki Anklets with Palazzo Pants

A unique look for dressing up shorts or wide-leg palazzo pants is with polki anklets. They give a generally informal or semi-formal outfit a dash of glitter. This combination has a trendy yet stylish perspective, making it perfect for outdoor events or informal get-togethers.

Pro Tip: To bring out the refined look of your Polki anklets, wear sandals with open toes.

Why Choose Jadaav Jewels for Polki Jewellery?

We at Jadaav Jewels think it's important to bring together classic design with modern trends. Our handmade selection of Polki valuables has classic styles to suit all tastes. The highest quality and genuineness are guaranteed in every design by Jadaav Jewels, whether you're searching for bold pieces or simple accessories.

Caring for Your Polki Jewellery

To keep your Polki jewellery looking beautiful:

1. Store each piece in a separate cloth pouch to avoid scratches.

2. Avoid exposure to moisture, perfumes, or harsh chemicals.

3. Clean gently with a soft cloth to preserve its shine.

By following these tips, your Polki Jewellery will remain as stunning as the day you bought it.

Conclusion

Anyone wishing to add luxury to their clothing should own Polki Jewellery since it is very adjustable. Any outfit, which was both formal or informal, is made more attractive by the appealing qualities of Polki accessories. In addition to valuing culture, selecting Jadaav Jewels transforms modern dressing.

Make your Polki jewellery the main attraction of your outfit by including these eight style tips into your wardrobe. Discover how to bring back beauty for any occasion by browsing our magnificent range at Jadaav Jewels now.