#shir gold

[limpbizkitmutual]

More PSII Text Adventures covers. This time, it's Shilka and Rudger (Shir and Rudo). I believe all I have left now is to complete Amia's and start Nei's.

By the way, if you want to play these, my best advice is to avoid playing Rudger's without a walkthrough. It literally makes no sense without one, I've considered doing a playthrough of it just so people can experience the story without all the confusion

[vilkalizer]

Shir is the coolest Phantasy Star character (after Myau who is a cat and thus cheats).

《Phantasy Star II》- Shilka of the Wind

這裡還真是黃帳的大本營啊… 我一陣子沒來就全部是色情帳號加好友

而且標籤還要一個個加，不能一次打完，有夠浪費時間

難怪主動使用的人變少了。

但沒差！

讓我來分享「風之希魯卡」！

《夢幻之星II》中，女性物化程度算是較低的（衣裝上還是滿高的），且每一個角色對遊戲世界中發生的事，幾乎有著或實際或理性的考量…… 希魯卡除外。

任性妄為、到處犯罪、輕浮又沒團體意識，他就是不切實際與不理性的化身。以現實而言是一個不好的夥伴。但這樣的角色在故事裡面就變得很有魅力，魅力呼應著他的實力，實力道出他獨立的個性。他像是遊戲裡的另一個主角，在其他角色都為了拯救世界而付出時，只有希魯卡完全為了成就自己而行動。畢竟他在加入的時候就說了：他要用「風之希魯卡」這個名字，寫出自己的新傳說。

沒玩過重製版，不知道會不會加強各角色的劇情

--

[spitefulcrepechan]

more onion..... /pos

[Click for better quality i beg of thee]

Apologies for the late response here are thine onions

[cosmik-homo]

I cant even complain about how ugly this costume is because like. I do own it. It is concerningly similar to something i recently bought. To take apart for fabric, buut, still-

[thestylesplash]

Brown Shirred Maxi Dress + Style With a Smile Link Up

Usually one for bright colours, I found myself hellbent in buying some pieces for my holiday on shades of brown. It all started when I found a beautiful rust coloured kaftan style dress in TK Maxx, which sadly wasn’t my size. It was a beautifully soft fabric (maybe cheesecloth?) and was reduced to £50 – still rather pricey, but it was from the Gold Label section. I tried to remember the brand but…

[frostedmagnolias]

A bridal or reception gown

c. 1907-1909

“ivory silk charmeuse, the skirt and bodice applied with chemical lace, taffeta ruffles, gold lamé rosettes and bouquets of roses formed from coiled pink and organza ribbon, others of soft pink chiffon studded with rhinestones, with silver embroidered stems and satin ribbon bows, shirred and gathered silk to the waist”

Kerry Taylor Auctions

[memories-of-ancients]

Gold and carnelian pendant depicting the goddess Shir, uncovered near Gandhara in Pakistan, Kushan Empire, 2nd century AD

from The Cleveland Museum of Art

[chic-a-gigot]

L'Art et la mode, no. 41, vol. 17, 10 octobre 1896, Paris. Théâtre des Nouveautés Mignonnette. Dessin de M. de Solar. Bibliothèque nationale de France

Mlle Paulette Filliaux.

Peignoir en surah fleur de pêcher, orné de Valenciennes.

Peignoir in peach blossom surah, decorated with Valenciennes.

—

1er acte. Mlle Aimée Martial.

Jolie robe de batiste voile blanc, garnie de bouillonnés semblables ourlés de Valenciennes. Broderie à jours sur la jupe ourlée en broderie sur deux volants de Valenciennes. Ceinture jaune et rouge

Pretty white voile batiste dress, trimmed with similar hemmed Valenciennes flounces. Openwork embroidery on the skirt hemmed in embroidery on two Valenciennes flounces. Yellow and red belt

—

2e acte. Mlle Aimée Martial.

Toilette en linon crêpe de soie ciel. Garniture de petits bouillonnés en valenciennes teinte écrue. Boléro de dentelle. Jolies manches. Broderie-application devant.

Ensemble in sky blue silk crepe linen. Trimmed with small ecru Valenciennes shirred stitches. Lace bolero. Pretty sleeves. Embroidery applique on the front.

—

3e acte. Robe de bal portée par Mlle Aimée Martial.

Corsage drapé enroulant la taille, en damas Louis XVI aurore. Manches tulle et dentelle. Broderie très fine en paillettes d'or. Touffe de pavots rosés.

Draped bodice wrapping around the waist, in Louis XVI aurora damask. Tulle and lace sleeves. Very fine embroidery in gold sequins. Tuft of pink poppies.

—

3e acte. Mlle Dalcy.

Blouse de crêpe gris perle brodé de perles plomb et or. Galon enroulant la poitrine. Jupe plissée accordéon.

Pearl gray crepe blouse embroidered with lead and gold pearls. Braid wrapping around the chest. Accordion pleated skirt.

[jiubilant]

cw: horror elements

He’d been a scrib of three, sticky-fingered and clinging to his sister’s skirts like an anther-burr, when first he saw a war-wasp of the Dres. In less than seven years they’d be extinct: their cliff-hives burnt, their grubs smeared across singed flagstones or speared wriggling on An-Xileel pikes. But it had been a bright morning—the dust had glittered in the air like motes of kanet, like the specks the goldsmiths blow off their tables—and the messenger from Bal Foy had circled his glorious mount three times above the marketplace, like a victorious chap’thil, before landing her in the middle of the street.

“Give her a pat,” he’d said, laughing, to the children clustering round—and the adults, too, a few merchants and house-servants whose stern faces broke with smiles. “She’s polite, my Khes.”

He ran, that scrib of three—not towards the great wasp grooming her feelers in that circle of hands, as oblivious to her admirers’ attentions as Benitah, but to a basket of comberries abandoned at a fruit-seller’s stall. The first fistful he stuffed in his mouth. The second he stretched above his head, high as he could reach.

“Khes!” he’d called, his voice shrill and garbled with fruit. He remembers the moment even now. Juice dribbling down his wrist. Dust in his throat. His little heart surging upward with that cry, as if on jeweled wings. “Khes!”

The wasp turned her alien head, broad and shining as a bonemold shield. Her feelers whiskered over him. Out flicked her wings once, twice: sheer and strong as wevet, fluted like stained glass into a thousand fiery panes.

“Hold your hand out flat, hla!” the messenger called.

He did. The mouthparts that could crush a Nordling breastplate descended to meet it. Delicately, like a lady reaching into a bowl with finger and thumb, the wasp took a single berry from his palm.

* * *

He wakes in his cold dormitory cell feeling stiff, sore, and improbably cheerful. Mzulft and its horrors, the Synod included, are behind him; it’s up to Mirabelle, now, to decide what to do with what they’ve learned. A magic staff in Hjaalmarch—perhaps the first item of import, he thinks with amusement, to ever come out of Hjaalmarch. And the Thalmor know nothing about it. And he’s rising late from a bed, not a bedroll, with the fading idea that he’d dreamed something pleasant.

“She’s stung me to the heart,” he sings in soft Velothis over his washbasin, scraping off the journey’s stubble with his shaving-knife. The ancient song comes to him in snatches, like the dream. “She’s stung me, jewel of the sky, armored queen of the valleys of the Shir”—someone raps on his door, probably one of the prentices with a question about a translation, and he takes some smiling liberties with the next line—“one moment, per favore, s'il vous plaît—��

“Break it down,” says a curt voice.

The door crashes open. He makes a startled, absurd swipe with his shaving-knife at the first of the intruders—black robes, beaky buttons that glint gold in the firelight—before a burst of magic shivers through him like heat-lightning. He hears a thump. Himself, he realizes with belated surprise, hitting the chilly floor.

“Is he immobilized?” the voice asks pleasantly.

A chorus of subordinate voices, at least three: “Yes, Secretary.”

They’ve never gone this far, thinks the man on the floor, struggling to budge limbs that have gone rigid and heavy as kedge-anchors. Something’s emboldened them at last. A heavy-gloved hand dips into the neck of his nightshirt and fishes out his Company chain.

“Justiciar Ancano was right!” the young Dominion agent attached to the hand exclaims. He dangles the pendant in the light. “East Empire Company. A factor’s clerk. A pleasure, Master”—he squints at the inscription on the copper, above the tarnished ship—“Ramo, to properly make your acquaintance.”

That’s right, the clerk thinks. They’d bungled his name on the thing. Probably in the records, too. A laugh escapes his spell-sealed lips as a stifled huff.

“Kick him,” the pleasant voice suggests. “Oh, cousin. To scribble and scrape for the mayfly enterprises of men!”

Someone does kick him. He finds himself facedown on the hearth, seeing nothing, hearing creaks and thumps and curses as the Thalmor toss his room. One rummages through his sea-chest, takes something out, slams it. His ewer shatters. Floorstones scrape in protest as they’re pried up; the thieves’ Altmeri chatter grows excited, then. They must have found his papers. The clerk scrabbles through his mind for what little Altmeris he knows—

���Closer to the fire,” says the pleasant one in Cyrod, perhaps for his benefit. The clerk’s heart petrifies like his limbs. “He fell. A terrible accident. Put his cane—yes, there. As if he’d been trying to reach it.”

Someone drags him closer to the hearth. Flings his arm into it like a peat-brick. The heat bakes his hand. “I can seal his heart-valves to be sure—”

“Don’t be a fool,” snaps the pleasant one. “That shrieking cat who heads up Restoration would notice. Let us defer, out of respect for our cousin, to Velothi custom—”

The click of the closing door.

The silence.

He can breathe, the clerk thinks, breathing fast. He can blink. Involuntary motions, then, are not suppressed by the spell—only those that he wills. Sitting up. Crying out. Smothering the fire nibbling, with increasing interest, at his sleeve.

It was once said of the war-wasps of the Dres, he recalls with faint amusement, that the venom of their stings worked much the same. One was advised, perhaps as a way to bide one’s time before the end, to battle the enervation in increments: try wriggling a finger. A toe.

Something pops in the fire. The cell begins to smell of smoke and singed hair. He wonders whether the jerk of a limb exposed to flame, to that sharp, betraying sting, is involuntary—no, it seems not. The pain scourges his arm, his ear, the side of his head.

A finger, he thinks, concentrating all his awareness of his body into the palm of his lifeless hand. A toe. A terrible accident, they’ll say when they find him. Don’t think it. Hold your hand out flat, hla—

A strained rap on the door. “Magister?”

Relief crashes through him where the magic holds him fast. His thumb twitches free of the spell. It makes less noise than a crumb of peat shifting in the hearth.

“Magister,” calls the voice, dear and strangely small, “the—the Master Wizard, she wants you in the quadrangle—”

“Brelyna,” a familiar brogue interrupts, “J’zargo does not think he’s in.”

Her voice rises nearly to a wail. “Where is he, then—”

They’re going, the clerk thinks, gripped by a panic more searing than the flames climbing his sleeve. His hand jerks. It hits his cane, which the Thalmor had propped so tellingly on the fireplace-jamb.

The cane wobbles. He holds his breath.

Then, with a magnificent scrape, it clatters to the floor.

A silence.

“Is it unlocked?” asks Brelyna.

The creak of the door. A gasp. The panicked squeak of boots. Then someone throws the contents of the washbasin on him: a shocking blue chill, like a plunge in pack ice. He breathes out. His shaving-knife swirls past his head on a runnel of suds.

“Turn him over.” J’zargo’s voice, sharp as claws. “Is he dead?”

“I don’t think so.” Magic crackles in the air above his head. “I, I think he’s—didn’t Master Neloren show us how to dispel this? Let me try—”

Something heavy and sluggish evaporates from the clerk's bones. He stirs with some difficulty, blinking soap from his eyes, and finds himself in a circle of worried hands: J’zargo lifting his head, Onmund buffeting the last of the fire, Brelyna slapping his ridiculous half-shaved face.

“Hlai,” he rasps, laughing, trying to raise his arms to fend them off. They’ll beat him to death. Ai, a terrible accident. “Hlai, I’m not a rug—”

“You look a rug,” snaps Onmund, terse as ever. The clerk recalls that he’s wearing the nightshirt patterned with fleurs. “What happened? Who spelled you?”

The less they know, the better. The clerk flexes his hands, then his face, breathing with great care around the boot-shaped ache in his side. “Shouldn’t you”—the fire’s ghost gnaws his arm when he bends it, and he winces—“be in class?”

“In class?” Onmund sits him up so roughly that they nearly knock heads. The boy’s hands, the clerk realizes with a start, are shaking. “We were in class. Don’t you know what’s happening outside?”

Brelyna sits back in the mess of hearth-ash and washwater, rubbing her crumpling face with both hands. Her voice wavers like a shrill flute. “I thought you were dead, too.”

“Too?” The clerk, blistered and dripping, stares at his pupils. “Who’s dead?”

A muscle jumps in Onmund’s ashen face. J’zargo flattens his ears and looks away. It’s Brelyna, choking on overwhelmed tears, who answers.

“The Archmage,” she sobs. Outside, muffled by the dormitory walls, a scream pitches above the cries of gulls. “The Archmage.”

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

Jewish Song of the Day Archive

Because we all know tumblr's search function and tags are useless! Will update with links as posts are added.

Original post/Ground rules

Olam Chesed Yibaneh - Matt Dubb

The Narrow Bridge - Nefesh Mountain

Yedid Nefesh - Josh Warshawsky

Eliyahu Hanavi - Matt Dubb

Modeh Ani - Tzemed Yeled

Piaseczna Niggun - Derech Achim

Karvah - Eitan Katz feat. Zusha

Tu Bishvat - Batya Levine

Adama ve Shamayim - ???

One Day - Koolulam

Sound of Silence [Yiddish] - Chaim Shlomo Mayesz

Bellida - LALA Tamar

Give Me One Prayer - Shmuel

Orayta - Victoria Hanna

Ani Maamin - Devorah Schwartz

Acheinu - Hadar

Park Ave Niggun - Joey Weisenberg

Am Yisrael Chai - (several :D)

Shir Shel Yom Rishon: Psalm 24 - Gad Elbaz

Shir Shel Yom Sheni: Psalm 48 - Ribi David Kadoch, z"l

Shir Shel Yom Shlishi: Psalm 82 - Tor Marquis

Shir Shel Yom Revii: Psalm 94 - multiple artists & Psalm 95 - Josh Warshawsky

Shir Shel Yom Chamishi: Psalm 81 - A.K.A. Pella

Shir Shel Yom Shishi: Psalm 93 - Josh Warshawsky

Nigun of the Month: Adar I - Nava Tehila

Lo Yisa Goy - Melita Doostan & Octopretzel

Modah Ani - Lahakat Hallel

Arbeter Froyen - Daniel Kahn

Ribono Shel Olam - Simcha Leiner

Tefilat Haderech - Marni Loffman

Avram Avinu - Arleen Ramirez and The Ladino Music Project; Kuando el Rey Nimrod - Farya Faraji (bonus additional version of Avram Avinu)

Miriam Haneviah - Rabbi Deborah Sacks Mintz

Borei Olam - Dovid Gabay

Yigdal - Our Siddur

Old Time Medley - Nefesh Mountain

Halev Sheli - Ishay Ribo

Ein Od Milvado - Avraham Fried & Tomer Adaddi

Dror Yikra - Rabbi Deborah Sacks Mintz

Evening Prayer - Ezra Furman

Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai - Matt Dubb

Ivri Anochi - Benny Friedman

Hana Mash Hu Al Yamin - A-WA

Lo Nirga - Avihai Hollender

Yismechu - Batya Levine

V'Shamru Nigun - Rabbi Deborah Sacks Mintz

Omed ba'Shaar - Lahakat Hallel

Milemala - Chaim Shlomo Mayesz

Machar - Mordechai Shapiro

Bashana Haba'ah - Melita and Isaac

Ante Abate - U-da/Yehuda Pardo

We Rise - Batya Levine

Lecha Dodi - Nava Tehila (two versions)

Vurka - Avrum Mordche

Mincha - Mendel Roth

Hashem Melech - Gad Elbaz & Nissim Black

Adon Olam - Kedmah

Guf Venshama - Yaakov Shwekey

Hakol Mishamayim - Mordechai Shapiro

Ana Bekoach - Lahakat Hallel

Ashrei - Pri Eitz Hadar/R' Shefa Gold

Va'ani Ashir Uzecha - Josh Warshawsky

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Slow dancing in the moonlight with either Zero or Ashton? Who would enjoy that more? What song would they be dancing to?

Slow dancing in the moonlight with Zero and Ashton!

I need a break from school so here I am answering a bit of my inbox. Still on hiatus tho! Just need a break.

Also, ALL LAUFEY SONGS YEAHHH

Yandere! Butler

Song: What Love will do to You by Laufey Lately, I've been in a haze Running late, can't think straight The world feels smaller, yet the trees look taller There's enchantment in the air I know I sound stupid, I do That's what love will do to you

Zero has been patient all the time with you. He's been slowly making you fall in love with him, but also making sure you were fine with your pregnancy. He is still a chimera after all. This pregnancy might be dangerous for your health.

But he held your hand gently as he guided you to the rooftop balcony.

The prince has been stressing you out greatly, even after you announced that you want to annul the engagement. Saying that he'll accept this bastard's son, and that he wants to be back together with you.

This, of course, pissed off Zero a lot. What does he even mean by that? Typical behavior.

After being caught, the prince fainted from shock, but you only batted your eyelashes and hugged Zero, who has a protective hold on your body. After being dragged away, the prince went on a mad ramble saying that you cheated on him.

The public was more or less secretly laughing at the prince's hypocrisy, getting tired of having the prince and his mistress as gossip, and was now more interested in you and Zero.

But currently, the both of you were on the path of marriage.

Marriage?

Yes, because of the child growing inside of you, Zero cannot just be your butler forevermore. He needs to be your spouse to recognize the child officially.

But, at the advice of the doctor, you need to get to 2nd trimester to avoid any danger, especially that the 1st trimester is the most dangerous.

But with the prince going on and on about wanting to be back with you... It's stressing you out.

So, to ease your tense body, he brought you to the balcony.

"Master... Ah, no. Y/n." Zero whispered, holding your left hand with his right as his other hand gently caressed your waist.

Music wafted from a resonance device, playing a song from the up and coming singer that you heard of.

Zero smiled, guiding you to a well practiced dance that you expected from your perfect butler, who knows everything.

With the night breeze just chilly enough that it was comfortable, and the moon being your personal spotlight, Zero brought you close, leaning his head on top of your head/on your chest.

"I love you, Y/n. And I will do anything and everything for you. I promise you that."

Yandere! Emo

Song: Lovesick by Laufey When the gold rays fell on your skin And my hair got caught in the wind The choir sang a melancholic hymn In the morning, you would gone I'd be mourning, tryin' to hold on To the memory of your lips God, I'm so lovesick What have you done to me?

Ashton stumbled forward. His feet clumsily prodding from one step to another as you pulled him from the Spring Dance.

It's been three months since the start of your arrangement with him.

You truly don't know how you became so in love with Ashton, but here you were, giggling as you pulled him away from the blaring pink lights, flowers, and the gaggle of students dancing and flirting.

You wanted to be alone with him again.

It honestly agitates you how much you always craved him. It felt so... Forced? But do you care right now?

No, not by the look of Ashton flushing red as he watched the both of your hands intertwined.

Is this the same guy who bends you over almost everyday and makes you his?

In your rose tinted glass look of him, he's adorable and perfect. Just the correct amount of gap between his dorkiness and seriousness. You loved his connection with emotion, his lifestyle, and well, style.

Even in Spring Dance, where he's wearing a rolled up white dress shirt, black vest, loose necktie, skinny jeans, a pink rose corsage, and his piercings, he still incorporated his unique style despite being targeted due to it.

Maybe that's it? He's so unapologetic about it.

Yeah. Maybe.

And with your pink spring outfit, you both looked the total opposite but you honestly loved it. Breaking barriers between socially constructed groups is what you want to advocate after weeks being with Ashton.

The pink flower petals scattered around you as the wind picked up, brushing away the petals like a broom.

And now, you dragged him to the rooftop and away from the gardens where the dance happened.

"Ashton! Let's dance! Just the both of us!" You delightfully said, bringing him close and goofily dancing to the song that the garden was blasting.

Ashton gave a light chuckle, a blush on his cheeks. "Alright, alright."

On the other hand, Ashton was over the moon. His eyes looked at you with so much affection that you were unaware of.

You were enjoying yourself greatly, the pink lights reaching your skin and casting a fun, exciting glow to the both of you as you both danced to however both of your bodies wish too.

And, as the night went on, Ashton forgot the pink love potion hidden on his back pocket, deluding himself that your affection was real, and not forced by him.

At the very least, this night will be something genuine to him.

[angel-egg-egl]

Wardrobe Post 2023 Part 1: OPs

Mary Magdalene - Tarte Tatin OP - "Classic Beige"

A new purchase, but I'm already in love. I'm hoping I can get the other colourways!

Mary Magdalene - Carlotta OP - "Shell Pink"*

This one was a rescue (yes, it's the WW carlotta) I got for cheap from a pal! It had horrific dye bleed/fading and was missing its bow and neck ties. I decided to dye it red to mimic the Strawberry colourway, and it came out to be basically a perfect match! I used the original waist ties to add gussets to the sides, and then I found some cotton sateen to dye up and used that to replace the neck ties and bow. Im working on replacement waist ties, but haven't finished yet. It's become one of my favourite dresses!

Mary Magdalene - Fleur Antionette OP - "Iris"

This one's another rescue-- when I got it it was stained and altered. I redid the gussets, added lining, and got the stains out. Currently working on replacing the bows!

Victorian Maiden - Chiffon Doll OP - Brown

I got this one at a swap meet and am obsessed with it! The bodice is cotton, so it's very breathable and comfortable, and it's great layered over sweaters and blouses!

Baby the Stars Shine Bright - Sugar Bouquet Shirring OP (2005) - White

One of my favourites! I'm mostly into classic lately, but old school sweet has a place in my heart. I actually prefer this version to the 2023 version-- there's a drawstring in the neckline that makes the shoulder measurement somewhat adjustable to prevent bust gapping. It is a little shorter, though, so bloomers are a must for me!

Baby the Stars Shine Bright - Sugar Bouquet Shirring OP (2023) - "Antique Blue"

The modern edition! I was lucky enough to get this through the preorder lottery-- I kind of regret not getting the ichigo mousse colourway as well. The cut is very comfortable, with lots of stretch, and its long enough to hit at the knee for me. It does have a lot more poof than the 2005 edition, though, and requires multiple petticoats for me.

Alice and the Pirates - Toi et Moi OP - Black x Bordeaux

One of my few remaining polyester dresses! It's actually a cotton-poly blend, and the weave is very breathable, especially since the lining is cotton. It's quite long, too, so very nice for taller people. I really love violet prints, so I couldn't bring myself to let this one go.

Alice and the Pirates - Princess Serenity OP - White (one colour)

This was a dream dress that I actually managed to get BNWT for retail price! It hadn't even been taken out of the original plastic. It's very detailed and lovely, there's several layers of fabric and lots of gold embroidery. It's a little too fancy and rare to wear out often, but I am happy to own it as a sailor moon fan.

[silverjetsystm]

@positivelybeastly sent 🍯🍎 for our muses to share apples and honey | Accepting.

Moon Kni.ght is used to working on call. Night shift only. This whole 24 and 7 sitch is older than this whole gig. Ol’ Lockley don’t mean Cap’s black ops squad. We’d been busy the last two days. Me and Grant split Rosh Hashanah down the middle. Mr. Reform takes day 1 and I take day 2. Sometimes Spector does Tashlich.

Lockley. Clarify.

Tossing bird seed at the water for our sins is a revolving door--

Not that one, though I’m sure they appreciate you playfully reducing our prac--

Right, right. For those of you playing along at home, Jews are Jews. Reform is just as – what do the kids say now, ‘valid’?

I don’t know. It’s not like we can text anyone.

As Orthodox an’ Conservative an’ Reconstructionist and ya get the point. I gotta elbow Wall Street. Sign of affection.

Start over.

Oyyyyyyy. Okay.

Moon Kni.ght is used to working on call but not on teams. Not in the morning. Better?

I’m taking you off narration.

Putz. Spector’s gonna leave things out.

Cut.

Take 3. Roll sound, roll camera.

Action.

Shir Hama'aloth. A crescent helicopter lands in the hanger floating above the water.

White glider-cape vaguely catching monitor light glow, Moon Kni.ght stumbles into the Quincarrier proper clutching a stuffed paper bag. “Morning,” he rasps. He hopes.

Pleasantly happy to see him? Commander Rogers wished him “Shana tovah.”

Moon Kni.ght paused. Half-open silver-teal eyes glance over the Commander’s face to a blessedly monitor-free wall. What could be one potentially determining how genuine the Commander was, it was really that prompt providing context for the last

Number of days he had been out. The paper bag. The hangover. Nedda’s tooth aching, gut churning note he peeked at and recoiled like she was retiring.

“Thanks. There’s,” holds up the paper bag, cape shining, Breakfast? Brunch? “Leftovers.”

Ant Man gives him a weird look as he passes by to the too big to be a break room, too small to be a cafeteria chow situation.

Valkyrie’s talking about apples in the distance. Cup of strong coffee in one glove, half full bag in the other, white tactical boots follow a path he knows is becoming predictable, knows everyone knows he’s becoming predictable (paranoid) to Han- McC- Hank’s lab. Boots know where they’re going is the point. Scowling, wracking his brain if (fine) Hank sticks to his lab because of work, avoidance of the others, or some other reason. Could be anything. Not his business. Right?

“Not my business,” he mutters into his lid. Just like the heartbeat stutters when the double doors open automatically, revealing Hank, peering through a microscope. Side profiles are easier to stare. Learning expressions. Seeing the whole face instead of Moon Kni.ght, Spector, intensely eyeballing.

Please tell me-- Mask rolled to the bridge of his nose, cracked lips turn up on his stubble face, a bend to his tone attempting-to-be-casual, “Hungry?” I can’t take it all home. It’ll rot. Go stale.

Regardless, he sits at the table, unpacking the bag. Honeycrisp and green apples. Plastic honey dipper container, almost half full. “Neighbors have bees. They like clover,” he mutters. Half of fluffy torn challah, round for the chag. Small fancy cheeses, half and quarter moon assortments.

“I didn’t make this,” he adds, brows rising in his shadowed mask when opening the large salad container – roasted aubergines with yogurt tahini, pomegranate jewels. "My housekeeper slash cook" She thinks I'll starve. She treats my job like I'm trying to make friends at the office. No, he doesn't want to sound pathetic in front of Hank. Not when they've had an accord.

"Goes all out for holidays." A wan smile, a nod. Maybe that's what happened. Not everything is Nedda's cooking.

He makes a plate from the spread for two. Crescent darts turn red-gold and green apples into slices, honey drizzled off to the side. Another pause. Cape carefully folded, he sets it aside, white mask, gloves, and gauntlets joining it. Tired brown eyes blink, are rubbed, stretching his left side’s scars tissue.

Didn’t want to make a mess. He almost convinces himself, still sipping glances at Hank’s feline face, soft blue fur, tracing clawed hands. Adam’s apple bobs, he inhales pine and musk. Covers with a sip of coffee.

Maybe this year will be sweeter. Sweet like Hank’s eyes, like his cat-like mouth he keeps glancing at. Sweet like honey, the crunch of apple dipped that doesn’t fill him.

[junijunijune]

Threesome | Dehumanization

Kinktober 2024

Succubus-flavoured Tiefling/Humans Threesome, going into heat, piercings in a sexual context, prostitution, double penetration, anal sex, lots of cock and balls sucking, while it isn't dubcon, it is perhaps ill-advised, DND flavoured smut. Oneshot | 4367 words

The upside of having an incubus in the family tree was that Sanha was irresistible. On stage, it was an advantage. On stage, she was beautiful and intoxicating and untouchable. A violin, silk skirts that flew up just enough to catch everyone’s attention, a sweet little pout, and a good song. The faint air of magic that hovered around her was a boon. It paid off.

The downside of having an incubus in the family tree was that Sanha sometimes went into heat.

It snuck up on her and then hit all at once. One night, she was a little bit restless and the next she was climbing the walls. Her body aching and her thoughts swirling. She woke up in the late morning with her stomach tight and the thought of hands on her hips pulling her back onto a cock.

“Fuck,” she muttered.

She lay there for a moment on the hope that it might pass. Just the remnants of a horny dream. It did not pass.

Quinn was already up when she stuck her head out of the bedroom door. The attic flat was only barely big enough for the two bedrooms but they’d been sharing for years. He was in the kitchen, cooking. She was pretty sure Quinn was a pickpocket and petty thief but she very specifically never asked and he never said. She also suspected he used her shows as a way to separate well meaning citizens from the coins.

“Morning,” he said.

She kept her distance. Quinn was a little too squirrelly to really be her type but he had good hands and nice big brown eyes and she was in the kind of mood where type didn’t matter. He would not appreciate the sex-demon side of her heritage climbing all over him.

“Do you have friends?”

“Excuse me?” he said pointing the spoon at her.

“Sorry. That was rude. I need fucked and the last time I went down the Mermaid to get fucked, it was bad. Bad sex. Bad bruises. I need fucked by someone with enough decency to not try and pull my tail off.”

He considered her. He had really pretty eyes and he looked her over with an appraising look. She was not dressed for the stage, most people didn’t see her like this but Quinn was more like family than anything else. His consideration was not sexual. He did not want to fuck her but the hungrier part of her mind wanted that look to be appraising.

“Slutty blue sex demon seeks love and affection?”

“No,” she said. “Slutty blue sex demon seeks a good hard fuck and promises an excellent time with minimal strings attached. All I need is decency. I do not want romance. I just want a good time without needing a healing spell at the end of it.”

“I’ll ask around. Don’t go down to the Mermaid and take the first offer you get.”

“You’re a prince.”

“You’re a whore.”

“I know,” she said. “At least I’m cute.”

Sanha overdressed for the hookup. Heavy make up around her big blue eyes, if things went well, it would run. The type of guy who volunteered for no strings attached sex with a succubus, even a third generation one, was the type of guy who was probably into the smudged make up, fucked stupid look. Her dress was very bard-like but it was not one of her current show dresses and if it got cum or lipstick on it, that would be fine and it had a very deep neckline.

Her stupid body shifted just a little with the heat. If she let it go on too long, she could reach the exaggerated curves of a true succubus, oversized breasts and flared hips and big pouty lips. Her normal body was slimmer and sharper than that. A ballet dancer’s body. Even a few hours of the heat had her breasts fighting every bra she owned.

She abandoned the lingerie in favour of something more overt.

Gold rings in her nipples. They were a little too heavy but she enjoyed the way that made the piercing impossible to ignore. They brushed against the silk of shirt in ways that sent a shiver down her spine and were very visible. Another gold bangle in her naval piercing. Nose. Both ears. She liked the piercings. She liked the way gold looked against her dark skin.

She wound her black curls up into a heavy bun at the back of her neck. Stray pieces fell out around her face and trailed down her spine. Good. The feather light touch of her own hair was distracting when she was this turned on but it looked good. She laced up a pair of sandals that knotted just below her knee. They were flat enough to run or dance in if she needed to but the gold details matched the rest of her jewellery.

“I never thought of myself as a pimp,” Quinn said conversationally.

“Are we getting paid for this?” she asked. “I thought this was you setting me up with a friend of a friend? How much are we getting paid?”

“A lot. There are two of them so I marked up the price by more than double. They still agreed to it.”

“Quinn,” she said accusingly.

“I asked Daasi but he’s afraid of you so he said he’d asked a friend of his. He might have explained it as having a friend who was looking for work for a succubus. Succubi are rare in this part of the word, San, so the offer was very good.”

“Succubus eat people,” she said.

“You’re not going to eat them.”

“They want to fuck someone who will eat them?”

“So that’s built into the deal. You’re not allowed to drain them and they’re not allowed to damage you.”

“You literally pimped me out.”

“You asked me to!”

Sanha sighed.

“You’ll be fine. It’s like a business deal. Like performing at a private party. It’s a lot of money. 30/70?”

“20/80 unless you’re going to come suck cock too,” she snapped.

“Done!”

“Bastard.”

“So much money.”

“Greedy bastard.”

“Do you want to say no?” he asked. Quinn showed her the details of the deal and the issue was that she did not want to say no. Sanha wanted the money. Sanha wanted the fuck. High end escorts - and Quinn had negotiated a very high end price - were relatively safe compared to picking up what she could find in the nearest pub. There was a signature on a contract.

“Either say no, or go meet them,” Quinn said.

Sanha had made it this far without ever actually whoring. She sang for money and she had done a few shows that strayed into stripping but she’d never been paid for sex before. She wasn’t sure if she liked it but the heat in her stomach was hard to ignore. Her horns were over sensitive and her breasts were swollen and achey. Her cunt was wet with the possibility of two men paying that much money for the chance to touch her.

So she went to the meeting spot.

The guy who met her was extremely normal looking. Human. Decent clothes but not rich. He looked her over and smiled. Her face lit up in a smile in return. Automatic. Years as a performer kicked into gear. He was a client and she was all smiles and confidence. Enthusiasm. Excitement for the show. This part was as much as part of it as the actual performance. People didn’t hire you back because you sang well, they hired you back because they liked you.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

“Hello,” she said.

“I have some friends who are looking forward to meeting you.”

“So I hear,” she said. “I’m looking forward to it too.”

There were some details hashed out as they walked back to a very nice hotel. Sanha wasn’t capable of feeding off sex. Her great grandmother had been the demon who had dumped all the horns and tails and blue skin into the family tree. There wasn’t enough magic left by Sanha’s generation for feeding off sex. Just enough to occasionally make her desperate enough for a fucking to be following a stranger into a hotel room on the word of a friend of a friend.

The men in the hotel room, were humans but huge. They had left armour and weaponry laid out on the tables. Mercenaries from some corner of the world that Sanha couldn’t identify. The nearer one had darker skin and jet black hair. He was stripped to the waist and he was a muscled mountain of a man with scars on his back. His friend had paler brown skin and he’d cut his hair so short it was hard to tell what colour it was. He turned to the door first.

“Oh, she is cute, isn’t she?” he said.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Sanha said.

“We’re not that, sweet thing, we are definitely not that,” he said.

He stepped in close to introduce himself as Hawk and his friend as Peregrine. The names were probably lies but she did not care when he was that close. They’d been fussing over armour. Adventurers with too much gold and not enough sense, they’d probably hit pay dirt on some expensive magical item and were enjoying themselves immensely with the money. He smelled of leather and fresh soap and he had very big hands.

Sanha tilted her head back to look at him and didn’t bother to hide the hunger in her eyes. Her mouth was slightly open. Her heart beat was a little too fast. She was suddenly very aware of her size and her options if this went wrong. They had to be twice her size. Over six feet tall and two hundred pounds of muscle. She just barely broke five feet and she was a hundred pounds soaking wet.

She was soaking wet as he looked down at her.

“Any requests?” she asked.

“You’re ours until dawn, pretty thing, we have all the time in the world to enjoy everything we want,” he said.

His friend was more direct. He stepped up beside Sanha and growled, “I want your mouth on my cock. Kneel.”

She did. A heat cycle always made her more obedient than she would usually be. Being on her knees for them made her feel even smaller. Peregrine settled his hand on her head as she reached out and unlaced his pants. He wasn’t hard yet but his cock was big. She opened her mouth and licked it. Sucked on the tip. Took it deeper.

“She was made for this, wasn’t she?” Hawk said.

She might have argued with that characterization but she was too horny to think straight and Peregrine kept just enough pressure on her head to make it difficult to pull back from his cock. She wasn’t trying but she was still very aware of the weight of that hand the strength in his body.

Hawk slid a hand down her back to her ass, squeezing and rearranging her thighs so her legs were spread a little wider. His hands wandered up her thighs to her belly, from there to her breasts. He played with the rings in her nipples, tugging hard enough to make her whine.

“Remember to thank Edvar for me,” Hawk said. “He out did himself.”

Peregrine was hard now. Hawk talked about her like she was a pretty toy he’d bought at the shop but Peregrine didn’t talk at all. He just steadied her head and thrust himself into her mouth. She squirmed a little as his cock hit the back of her throat but he tightened his hold on her hair. Behind her, Hawk, rubbed her belly and played with breasts and his body and hands kept her from being able to pull away.

There was always an option of tapping out but Sanha was too horny for that. She could still breathe and she kept sucking on the cock in her mouth even as she gagged on the thrusts. Thick fingers pinched her nipples and played with the rings.

“Balls, whore,” Peregrine said. He pulled his cock out of her mouth and used his hold on her hair to pull her in so her face was pressed against the base of his cock and his balls. She sucked on anything she could reach while his wet cock rested on her face. She’d known her make up was going to get destroyed but she hadn’t expected it to happen before she’d even told them her name.

They didn’t care about her name. She knew that. Peregrine kept her there, jerking his cock against her face while she sucked on his balls. She took one in her mouth and then the other, rolling them. Licking them. Her own arousal was building but nothing that was happening to her was going to satisfy it. It was a white hot need that she tried to channel into sucking harder, arching up into Hawk’s hands. Trying to get more.

Peregrine came on her face and hair. He groaned and his sperm splattered her face and thick ropes of it fell into her hair.

“She’ll do,” Peregrine said.

His disinterest made her bristle in offence but Hawk was laughing and pulling her up off the floor. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, pushing the cum away from her eyes so she could look at him.

“You don’t look big enough to take a cock, I might split you open,” Hawk said.

“Try me,” Sanha said.

“Oh, I will,” he said. Peregrine tossed himself back on a pile of pillows, lounging like a king of some forgotten land. Hawk turned her with his hands on her hips and stripped off her clothes. He was behind her but his hands slid over her, pausing to play with all the piercings.

“You like pain?” Peregrine asked. “That’s a lot of holes you’ve punched in yourself.”

“Maybe she likes gold,” Hawk said.

“Don’t we all?” Peregrine said.

“It looks good, doesn’t it?” Sanha managed to say through the haze of arousal clouding her thoughts. Hawk’s hands all over her left her disoriented and desperate.

“You need a piercing right here,” Peregrine said.

He reached out and pinched her clitoral hood.

“Maybe someday,” Sanha said.

“Maybe I should do it for you now. I have a kit.”

“Forgive me for not trusting your expertise.”

“I did all of mine,” he said.

“You’re some kind of backwoods adventurer, you want me to let you pierce me? There?”

“Yeah. I’ll give you one of mine. You keep it in and remember me every time someone thrusts into that desperate hole you have.”

He slipped two fingers into her. Thick fingers. Calloused and strong. His ring rubbed against her walls and he laughed at her when she gasped.

“You’ll like it,” he said.

Sanha nodded. She would like it. She shouldn’t want it but she knew that she would like it. The desire for pain was stronger when she was near a heat and all her other piercings were done while she was horny. They’d always been done by professionals but his kit wasn’t just a sewing needle and a lighter. He probably wasn’t going to give her gangrene.

“Hold her,” Peregrine said.

Hawk took that very seriously. He looped his arms around her waist and held her tight to his body. He leaned back and spread his legs so that her thighs were spread wide over them. Peregrine fingered her a little more in that position before he pinched her clit hard and pulled up the hood.

There was no way this was a good idea. Sanha nodded at him anyways.

He slid the needle in, hard and fast so the pain was sharp and shattering. She screamed and Hawk held her down through it. Peregrine pulled the needle out and slipped a thick heavy brass ring into the hole he’d just made in her body. The ring fell against her clit. He’d done a very good job lining up his work. He finished it off by closing up the ring and dousing her clit in a healing potion which he rubbed in with rough fingers. She whined and squirmed.

The bleeding stopped immediately and the potion would keep infection at bay but he leaned close to watch her face as he rubbed because the ache didn’t fade. Her face must have been creased in a frown. Peregrine wiped his fingers, wet with her slick and her blood on her cheek. She arched her hips a little, the heavy ring providing just enough pressure on her clit to be impossible to ignore but not enough to be satisfying.

“It’s going to be sore for a few days,” he warned.

“I’m not going to be able to walk for a few days after you’re done with me,” Sanha said.

“True,” Hawk said.

He let go of her and pushed her forward. They moved in tandem until she was on her hands and knees with her legs spread wide and her face level with Peregrine’s ball sack again. He pulled her back in and she sucked on his balls again. For a moment, that was everything. The aching piercing in her clitoral hood was too heavy at this angle and she shifted against it. The hand in her hair kept her face pressed to him and she sucked reflexively.

Then Hawk pushed his cock into her cunt.

She screamed in surprise. He was right there. His hands on her hips, his thighs brushing hers as he got her into position. He even put a hand on her back to push her down and set the angle he wanted. She was still shocked by the entry.

Peregrine was unforgiving, he held her where he wanted her and she worked her mouth against his balls despite the cock splitting her open. Hawk was big. Sanha had fucked some big cocks and he wasn’t as big as a half-orc or as some Tieflings but he was probably the biggest human she’d ever felt. She was breathing hard and fast.

It was too much. The hand on her head, the hand on her back, the cock in her cunt, the balls in her mouth, the ache of the incompletely healed piercing, and the neediness of her heat. She was not thinking at all. She did as she was told. She sucked what she was pointed at. She kept her knees where he put them. She whined and moaned through all of it.

Hawk didn’t last long. He slid out of her and came to blow his load on her face. He rubbed his cock over her while Peregrine kept her sucking his balls. The cum landed on her cheek and in her hair.

“This is fun,” Peregrine said.

“See? I was right,” Hawk said. “It was a good investment.”

Sanha hadn’t come yet but the heat didn’t actually care if she came. The heat cared if she got fucked and so far, so good. She didn’t have enough succubus blood to feed on their orgasms but it was satisfying as hell each time they released, even if she was still unsatisfied. She lazily licked at Peregrine’s cock and balls and lay there, sprawled out in the mess of pillows. The heat was happy to be surrounded by other people’s pleasure and the physical contact. Hawk rubbed her back and her ass.

“Do you think she can take it?” Hawk asked.

“Open it up and see,” Peregrine answered. He kept his hand steady on the back of Sanha’s head so her mouth stayed against his skin. This wasn’t a conversation in which they talked to her. It was a conversation about her.

Hawk pulled her ass cheeks apart and rubbed a finger against her asshole. She squirmed and arched into it. The piece of her that enjoyed piercings and bruises on her hips loved anal sex. Neither of those cocks would be easy to take up her ass and they hadn’t exactly proven themselves to be gentle so far.

“Be good, little whore,” Peregrine said. He kept her face buried against his cock and balls while Hawk rubbed something slick and wet into her hole and then pushed a finger in. It was a tight fit but it slid in. The heat made her body more elastic and flexible than it usually was and she had taken cocks up the ass in the past but some healing factor in her bloodline meant her body tended to recover and bounce back. Once the heat passed, everything tightened up again.

Being opened up by thick demanding fingers while they talked about her like she couldn’t hear them was degrading. It was degrading and objectifying and awkward. She was incredibly turned on by it.

“Little mouth keeps sucking like it is all she’s good for.”

“She’s very good.”

“This is one tight ass. I bet she cries when you slide in.”

“I wanna go first.”

“Flip you for it.”

“Fuck.”

“You can have her throat. She’s hungry. She needs a cock to suck on.”

“She sure does.”

Sanha did not cry when he slid his cock into her ass. She did scream which just got her jaw grabbed as her head was repositioned and a cock slid into her mouth. They had laid her out on her back so her head hung over the edge of the bed. She had lost track of whose cock it was that slid into her mouth but the angle meant she had no resistance it slipping past her gag reflex and into her throat. She was so aroused that it was a relief to have a cock in both ends.

Her ass stretched and took it as he slid a very wet cock into her in one long irresistible stroke. It wasn’t rough but he braced her hips with his hands and pushed his entire cock into her while she squirmed. He fucked her for a little while. Steady. In and out. They bounced her between the cock in her throat and the one in her ass.

Sanha took it, breathing when she could. The impact of each thrust in her ass made the piercing rub against her clit and that near thing - that almost pleasure - made her more delirious than the ache in her ass hole or the struggle to breathe around each thrust.

They pulled out and came on her face and hair again. The order of operations got blurry in her hazy heat-muddled memory. Someone laughed at her and smear the mess of cum and spit around her face while she panted. There was a bit of a break but when she tried to reach down to rub her own clit and get a little relief, her hands were pulled away and someone slapped her aching pierced clit.

“No,” he said.

Sanha whined but couldn’t think of anything coherent to say.

“Kneel. Wait.”

She knelt. She waited. She tried to shake herself back to coherence but she was desperate for an orgasm. The heat was happy with all the fucking but the heat was stupid ancient magic. Sanha wanted to come. Sanha wanted a cock in her pussy and fingers on her clit. She wanted someone to make her cum over and over until she forgot her own name.

Instead they got a snack and once Peregrine was past the point of overstimulation, he put his balls back in her mouth and held her there. She sucked on them like it might give her a bit of the relief that she needed but it didn’t.

“Your choice, this time. Ass or pussy.”

“Pussy.”

“Damn.”

“You got first go on her ass, don’t be a dick.”

“Fine.”

Sanha was pulled up again and then position so she was face to face with Peregrine. He grabbed her face and stuck his thumb deep in her mouth. She tried to squirm away from it but he pulled her down onto his cock. The relief of a cock sliding into her pussy made her forget his thumb stroking the back of her tongue and making her gag. He pulled her forward.

She was too overwhelmed to realize what was coming next until Hawk was lined up with her asshole and pushing in. The sound that came out of her was whiny and desperate. Hawk laughed at her and slapped her ass. She yelped.

“You good?” he asked. Not her. He was asking his friend.

“Yeah, fuck her hard.”

Another laugh. They fucked together with an easy rhythm. They knew exactly what they were doing. One cock slid out as the other slid in. Sanha couldn’t think about anything but the sensation. They slammed in and out of her in a perfectly coordinated rhythm.

Her orgasm finally took her. She arched and screamed and someone wrapped a hand around her throat to hold her in position as they kept fucking her. The first orgasm bled into the next one. The edges of the world got very blurry. She couldn’t remember her own name. She felt full and hollowed out all at once. Well used. Stretched. Aching. Satisfied. Trapped. Desperate for more. It all bled together.

They dropped her eventually. More cum on her hair and face.

The night ended hours later. Her body thoroughly used. Her jaw sore from all the sucking, her asshole stretched open. Her pierced clit still sore. Her vagina aching. Her make up spread across her face and her hair drying with the caked sperm in it. They left before she got up. An extra necklace and bracelet were clasped onto her as a tip. More gold.

She bathed at the hotel, washing out her hair and braiding it back tightly. She convinced a maid to let her borrow a uniform so she didn’t have to walk home in the stained silk.

“How was it?” Quinn asked.

“Disrespectful and rough,” Sanha told him.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Yeah, I enjoyed it,” she said.

“Do you want to go again? I can probably get another contract like that.

[hansoheeglobal]

Han Sohee's Shining Presence Is Everywhere And Nowhere

Actress Han Sohee appeared on the red carpet as an ambassador for Boucheron during the Cannes Film Festival. We met her in a peaceful and beautiful village in southern France, where she revealed a neat charm that matched the Provence mountain lodge. At the same time, she exuded a powerful energy that transformed her presence. Han Sohee's shining presence is unlike anything else.

by Lee Yejin

The Iceberg necklace in white gold paved with rock crystal and diamonds is from Boucheron. The avant-garde dress is from Rick Owens.

The Eau d’Encre bracelet in titanium and white gold, set with obsidian and pavé diamonds, and the Eau d’Encre white gold ring, set with a 2.01-carat D VVS1 grade pear-cut diamond, obsidian, and pavé diamonds, are from Boucheron. The one-shoulder shirring dress is from Rick Owens, and the stiletto heels are from Christian Louboutin.

Iceberg necklace in white gold paved with rock crystal and diamonds is from Boucheron. The leather dress with a loose hem is from Rick Owens, and the platform heels are from Amina Muaddi.

The Écume ring, made of titanium and paved with rock crystal and diamonds, worn on the index finger of the left hand, and the Ecume ring, made of titanium and paved with obsidian and diamonds, are from Boucheron.

The Iceberg earrings, a white gold pendant set with rock crystal and pavé diamonds, are from Boucheron. The off-shoulder dress is from Blumarine.

Vague asymmetric earrings made of white gold paved with 851 diamonds worth 20 carats, a multi-wear product that can be modified and worn by Boucheron. The high-neck collar dress is from Sportmax.

A white gold necklace set with more than 2,000 pavé diamonds, and the Cascade necklace, which can be transformed into earrings in accordance with Boucheron's unique multiwear tradition, is a Boucheron product. Silk sleeveless top and pants are from The Row.

The Eau Vive shoulder brooch in aluminum, paved with diamonds and decorated with palladium is from Boucheron. Knit sweater dress is from Coach.

Sable Noir necklace made of black sand and white gold with pavé diamonds is from Boucheron.

[styleofdiamandis]

BLACK LIVES MATTER: MARINA IN ADIDAS JUMPSUIT

Over the past few days I’ve gathered a couple of looks from 2020 to 2019 that I haven’t posted yet (forgive meeeeee!). But hey, better late than never! Here’s what Marina wore to the Black Lives Matter Protest in London back on June 7th, 2020.

The Greek-Welsh singer kept it comfortable yet stylish in a cool jumpsuit by German cult label Adidas! Featuring a shirred waist and zip-up front, this easy-to-style jumpsuit also has the label’s signature 3 stripe detail and logo embroidered on its leg.

Marina also wore these KISS Eyewear retro-inspired rectangle sunglasses with rivet dot details.

Next, Marina rocked her vintage Betsey Johnson beach ball neon multi-color faux patent leather shoulder bag with sea-themed charms in gold ($78.00 - sold out) which was exclusively sold at Macy’s.

Finally, her colorful and silver metallic sneakers are the Baisley sneakers by Bronx!