#vintage performance posters

[monkeyssalad-blog]

English stage pantomime production of Cinderella, c. 1930s by Halloween HJB

[twilightangelsworks]

Another Illustration project I did for school. We were suppose to create a vintage circus poster in Adobe Illustrator. I chose to do mine for a horse riding performer. I actually took some creative liberties with the color palettes because the vintage poster colors did not transition well in digital forms. I decided to go for more cosmic colors and that gave me the ideas for the names. The circus would be called Starlight Circus, the rider is Stella, The Comic Rider, and even though I did not give the horse a name in the poster, I would name him Cosmos.

[everydayesterday]

[dmitriene]

𝗚𝗨𝗔𝗥𝗗𝗜𝗔𝗡.

❝𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧❞ 𝘥𝘪 𝘣𝘧 𝘭𝘦𝘰𝘯 𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥𝘺 𝘹 𝘨𝘧 𝘧𝘦𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

❝𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬❞ 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘹 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱

❝𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗦❞ 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵, 𝘶𝘯𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳, 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦

❝𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥'𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘❞ 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢, 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯, 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵!

 ✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

The deep evening fell over the country bar like a velvet curtain, bathing the cozy interior in a soft, dim light, the streets outside were shrouded in a slight chill, but the warmth of the alcohol quickly spread through your body, creating a comfortable cocoon enveloping you.

The bar became your sanctuary today, a haven of familiarity and intimacy, the floor was carpeted, leather sofas lined the walls, and countless conversations and shared secrets were kept on the wooden tables.

Here you sat at the bar and enjoyed your favorite cocktail while Leon, your boyfriend, sipped on a long island iced tea.

The taste of vodka was soothing on Leon's throat and you looked at him with a soft smile, his brown hair falling over his forehead and his piercing blue eyes filled with mischief, the way he looked at you like an adoring puppy always made your heart flutter.

You reached across the counter, your fingers brushing against his and he turned his hand to gently kiss your knuckles, a gesture that spoke of his deep affection for you and made you laugh softly.

— «How's your work been, Leon?» you asked, your voice filled with genuine concern as you knew the dangers he faced as a government agent and you constantly worried about him.

He leaned closer, and the faint scent of his cologne mingled with the soothing woody scent of the bar — «Well, t's been a wild ride, but i can handle it» he assured you with a confident smile — «Knowing that you're waiting for me at home keeps me going, sweetheart»

You felt a swellnes of love in your chest as you looked into his eyes, Leon wasn't just your boyfriend — he was your rock, the one who made you feel safe and wanted, his lips found yours and you shared a soft, long kiss, the taste of his long island iced tea mingled with your cocktail, infecting with its sweetness.

The bar was filled with the subtle hum of conversation and the clink of glasses, the dimly lit room was decorated with vintage posters and vintage memorabilia, giving the space character.

There was a talented musician performing on the wooden stage at the far end of the bar, and the sweet music flowed through the air, setting the mood for the evening, so you couldn't help but tap your foot to the beat, feeling the music seep into your soul.

Leon placed his hand on the back of your bar stool, pulling you closer to him — «I thought» he said in a low and thoughtful voice — «Maybe we should plan a trip somewhere away from all this chaos»

Your eyes lit up with excitement at the thought — «I'd love that» you answered with obvious ringing enthusiasm — «Somewhere peaceful, where we can forget about the world for a while»

The two of you discussed potential destinations, sharing dreams of sandy beaches, serene forests and foreign, bustling cities, and the more you talked, the more you realized how much you both wanted a break from the constant demands of your lives.

The deeper the evening went, the more you noticed the background music, suddenly a jazz melody began to sound, finding a certain response in your soul, and you leaned closer to Leon, touching his ear with your lips and whispering — «I like this song»

He nodded in agreement, his hand found yours on the counter, and his head occasionally swayed to the beat — «A good choice indeed» he muttered, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

In the midst of the music, your thoughts drifted back to the adventures and trials you had faced together, Leon had always been there for you, no matter what, a constant presence in your life, and you couldn't help but feel a flash of affection for him and reached out to stroke his cheek with your fingertips.

The touch of your fingers against his skin sent a delicious shiver through Leon's body, and he turned his head and took your hand in his, kissing your palm tenderly.

After a moment, his lips moved higher, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek, leaving a warm, lingering sensation on your skin, sliding intimately before he reached your earlobe and whispered that he needed to leave, promising to return soon.

You nodded, smiling tenderly at him as he disappeared into the crowd, the warmth of his presence and the scent of his cologne still lingering in the air.

Turning your attention to the bar, you decided to order another round of drinks, the music continued to play, its soothing melodies still touching your heart, and you tapped your nails on the counter, lost in the rhythm.

As you leaned towards the counter, your thoughts drifted back to the plans you and Leon had discussed earlier, the idea of a peaceful getaway seemed more tempting than ever and you couldn't wait to make that dream a reality, allowing you to wistfully draw pictures in your mind of vacation together.

Just as you were about to signal the bartender to order, a sudden touch on your shoulder made you raise an eyebrow, you turned around, wondering if Leon had returned earlier than expected, but when you saw the stranger sitting down next to you, your heart sank to your feet.

He was clearly drunk, with the distinctive smell of alcohol surrounding him, a few buttons on his chest were carelessly undone — the disheveled aftermath of some previous encounter, his disgusting appearance and bold behavior were red signs that made you wary.

His hand, bold and inappropriate, reached for your waist and you tensed, the invasion of your personal space sending a shiver of discomfort down your spine.

You looked around for the bartender, but he was busy at the far end of the bar serving other customers, so your heart began to pound like in a cage as you tried to stay calm.

— «Please don't touch me» you said firmly, your voice laced with irritation, but the stranger seemed to find your protest amusing.

He let out a deep, unsettling laugh, his alcohol laden breath washing over you — «Don't play hard to get» he slurred, his words full of arrogance — «You're a real beauty»

His hand moved further down, landing firmly on your thigh and you quickly had enough, with a sudden and decisive movement you turned away from his touch, causing your bar stool to sway dangerously.

The loud scraping sound caught the attention of the surrounding patrons and you were no longer willing to endure this man's advances.

You stood up abruptly, the bar stool toppling over and the stranger's grin turning into an indignant grimace, you stood your ground, your voice firm and decisive as you spoke to him, asserting your safety, radiating disgust — «I told you to keep your hands to yourself, this is your final warning»

Your abrupt reaction caused the stranger to frown, his drunken arrogance faltering as you firmly asserted your boundaries, to which he rudely retorted, accusing you of overreacting to a simple compliment.

There was a hint of condescension in his words, and one could not help but be outraged by the insolence of this vile man.

You stood your ground, the discomfort of the situation fell heavily on your shoulders — «I didn't ask for your attention» you replied, disappointment evident in your voice as you spoke, you took a few steps back to distance yourself from the man invading your personal space.

In your rush, you bumped into other people, prompting irritated grumbling and comments telling you to be more careful.

The man continued to taunt, his arrogance undiminished, his alcohol laden breath burning your nostrils as he leaned closer and you felt a wave of anxiety course through your veins.

The situation was out of your control, you clenched your hands at your sides in trembling fists, starting to panic and nervously look towards the dark crowd in the direction where Leon had left earlier.

And as soon as you began to despair and your thoughts turned to your boyfriend, a strong hand pulled the stranger by the shoulder, making him recoil, and the collar of his disheveled shirt clenched tighter, while Leon’s whitened fist hovered menacingly before the man’s eyes.

The stranger, in a drunken stupor, grinned defiantly — «Who do you think you are, handsome?» he slurred, his words were rude and mocking — «It's none of your business»

Leon's voice was cold and authoritative as he growled — «That became my business when you couldn't respect her boundaries»

The stranger's bravado faltered as he drunkenly muttered that your taste in men was terrible, realizing who Leon was to you, to which Leon rolled his eyes, his patience running out, and in the next seconds, without hesitation, he delivered a powerful blow, landing it right in bastard's face.

The man staggered back, his cheek instantly red and swollen, and all his courage was washed away as if by water, because he stood stunned by the sudden blow.

Leon hurriedly paid his tab at the bar, his jaw clenched into a thin line as he gently took your hand and led you outside, walking quickly in tense silence through the cool of the street, evaporating all the alcohol and built up stress.

As soon as you reached the car, Leon stopped, his grip on your hand gently loosening and he turned to you, his stormy expression giving way to concern and regret, his calloused hands cupping your cheeks as an apology fell from his lips — «I'm sorry i wasn't there in the first place, i should have been»

You couldn't help but let out a sudden giggle, either from the alcohol or his sudden sensuality, but you were still overcome with a warm feeling of affection — «Leon, it's okay, you arrived just in time, and this blow will surely be remembered by this guy»

Leon's surprise showed in his eyes, your easy acceptance of the situation pleasantly surprising him as his lips curved into a reluctant smile and he leaned down, gently kissing your lips before wrapping his arms around you in a protective embrace.

The tension of the night began to melt away in the warmth of his presence.

Pulling back, you looked at Leon, your eyes is a lake full of love and gratitude for his presence and protection, his solid shoulder — «Thank you for always taking care of me, Leon»

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his fingers were gentle and affectionate despite the usual texture and hardness of the skin — «My job is to protect you, love, and i'll always be there when you need me»

With a shared smile, the two of you got into the car, letting the warm interior envelop you in its calmness to everything outside as Leon started the engine and you headed home, leaving behind the dimly lit bar and the unpleasant meeting, replacing it with much more pleasant memories while Leon's free hand reverently clutched your thigh, drawing patterns on it while driving along the long streets.

taglist: @roseglazedlens, @scar-crossedlvrs, @daydreamrot, @valsthearecs, @kennedyswhore-old dm me if you want to be tagged in my works or open my taglist

[timecapsuleprintscie]

The Trapeze Aerialist Vintage Circus Wall Art, Circus Retro Cabinet Card, Freakshow, Sideshow Print, Oddities & Curiosities, Carnival Poster

Madame Zoya, a vision of grace and daring, is the embodiment of elegance in motion. Suspended high above the crowd, she performs breathtaking aerial feats that seem to defy the very laws of gravity. Her performance, a mesmerizing blend of beauty and bravery, leaves the audience spellbound as she hovers between earth and space.

[bargainoriley]

Here’s something I’ve been translating on and off for the past week or so! I was looking at old German youth magazines in order to find interesting articles about classic rock bands (specifically Pink Floyd) and came across this in the 01/1978 issue of BRAVO magazine (One of the most famous teen/young adult magazines in Germany that’s been there since 1958 and is still going strong today!) A lot of youth magazines back in the day had articles and posters about rock bands because, well, that’s the people who were celebrities at that time! This page includes both short descriptions of the band members and a short history of the band up until that point when the issue came out! Enjoy ;)

Here’s the original picture

And here is the translation! (Italized text are context comments added by me to add to the understanding of this text!)

Warning: Some of the information here is obviously incorrect!

Pink Floyd: Their profiles

Nick Mason:

Born on the 27th of January 1945 in London, plays drums, has black hair, brown eyes, is 1,72 m tall (for non metric peeps it’s approximately 5 foot 8), is married to Lindy, has two daughters, owns a vineyard and collects old cars (old timers in German means old/vintage cars)

Rick Wright:

Born on the 28th of July 1945 in London, plays the organ/keyboard, piano, cello, and Moog-synthesizer; has blonde hair, blue eyes, is 1, 74 m tall (approximately 5 foot 9), is married to Juliette, has a son named Jamie, and a daughter named Gaia, loves football (or soccer for American peeps)

Roger Waters:

Born on the 6th of September 1944 in Great Bookham near Cambridge, plays bass, Moog-synthesizer, and sings as well; has blonde hair, grey eyes, is 1,83 m tall (approximately 6 feet), is married to Caroline, and has a 15 month old son named Harry.

David Gilmour:

Born on the 6th of March 1946 in Cambridge, plays lead guitar and sings; has brown hair, blue eyes, is 1,78 m tall (approximately 5 foot 10), is married to Ginger, and has a 2 year old daughter named Alice.

The diary/summary of their career; All their albums

1965

The three architecture students Roger Waters, Rick Wright, and Nick Mason meet and get to know each other, establishing the band Sigma 6.

1966

February: Sigma 6 gets their first fee for a performance in the London Marquee Club and mostly cover popular rock and blues songs. During this time they meet art student Syd Barrett. He writes songs and joins the band as a guitarist and singer. Under his influence Sigma 6 evolve into their own music style: The group does electronic experiments and uses spotlights, reversal film, and recorded footage as part of their stage shows. Thus psychedelic music is born. Syd Barrett is as well (psychedelic), who now comes up with new names for the band almost every month — they call themselves “T-Set,“ “Abdabs” — and in this group a girl sings as well from time to time: Juliette Gale. She later marries keyboardist Rick Wright.

June: The group could pay for a band bus for approximately 200 Mark (the German currency at the time of this article), but decide to separate for the time instead. No one is interested in performing, since the boys want to enjoy the semester holidays as well as after them improve and work harder on their studies; music is fun but a real job is more important. Syd Barrett then has a new idea for a band name: The Pink Floyd Sound. He comes up with his idea through combining the names of two American blues singers: Pink Anderson and Floyd Council. The owner of an artist agency, Peter Jenner, sees a performance from The Pink Floyd Sound in the Marquee, and then from there on decides to manage the band, not knowing the band wanted to break up.

July: Peter Jenner gets the band gigs, and thus Pink Floyd stays together.

October: Pink Floyd are now the stars of the London Underground. They perform in the Roundhouse to 2000 fans, with even Paul McCartney being there to see them.

December: On the 23rd of December the UFO club opens, with Pink Floyd performing there daily henceforth.

1967

January: The English music magazine “Melody Maker” write an article about Pink Floyd, which makes record companies curious about the band. The band accepts the best offer, and as they sign the record label contract, they cash in an advance payment of 40 000 Mark.

February: The first single “Arnold Layne” gets recorded.

March: Arnold Layne goes to the English hit charts.

April: The single is on number 20 in the charts and then falls off. But this beginning success gives them the push they needed to record their first album “The Pipers at the Gates of Dawn.“ Norman “Hurricane” Smith serves as producer for this album, and began his career as a recording engineer for the Beatles. While Pink Floyd work on their album in studio 3 of Abbey Road studios, the Beatles work on their album “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” at the same time in studio 2; two decade defining groups working next door.

June: Pink Floyd join as a supporting act along with Jimi Hendrix and the Move (runner up band to Electric Light Orchestra) for an England tour, but only get to play 17 minutes.

July: The second single “See Emily Play,“ becomes part of the English hit charts, coming in at number 6, and the first album “The Pipers at the Gates of Dawn” releases.

September: See Emily Play also goes into the German hit charts and reaches number 28. Syd Barrett at this time also creates a speaker system which is still useful today, where the speaker boxes are placed all around the room.

1968

At this time, it is practically impossible for Pink Floyd to continue performing with Syd Barrett. He is more and more off in his own world and mind, often not knowing where he is. Out of necessity, the band thus searches for a second guitarist who could join the band.

February: David Gilmour joins Pink Floyd. Syd is still part of the band, but during concerts his amps are often not even turned on, so that the audience doesn’t know any better about his mistakes.

April: On the 6th of April Syd definitively leaves the band, with manager Peter Jenner going with him. Pink Floyd begin working on their second album “A Saucerful of Secrets.“

June: At a free open air concert on the 29th in the London Hyde Park the band officially announces and debuts David Gilmour as their new lead (and only) guitarist. On the same day the new album releases as well.

1969

July: The soundtrack album Pink Floyd worked on for the film “More,” releases.

October: Pink Floyd have their first concert in Germany on the 11th of October at the Pop and Blues Festival in the Essen Grugahalle venue. On this day, Deep Purple celebrate their first concert in Germany as well.

November: The double album “Ummagumma” releases and makes the group successful worldwide for the first time.

1970

March: The soundtrack album Pink Floyd worked on for the film “Zabriskie Point” releases.

June: Pink Floyd perform the title track of their upcoming new album “Atom Heart Mother” worldwide at open air festivals with recorded footage, dry ice fog, and light bombs as part of their special effects on stage.

October: The album “Atom Heart Mother” releases and leads the album charts in England and America.

1971

The album “Meddle” comes out. This year Pink Floyd is particularly busy; they go from one concert to the next and have multiple tours worldwide.

1972

The soundtrack album Pink Floyd worked on for the film “La Vallée” releases under the title “Obscured by Clouds” as their new album. The rest of the year the band spends inside the studio.

1973

March: The album “Dark Side of the Moon” releases and is on the English and American album charts for over two years, and also goes gold in Germany. It is to this day the band’s most sold album.

October: Pink Floyd perform their last German concert for a long time on the 12th of October at the Olympiahalle in Munich, and it becomes the sensation of the year. Pink Floyd also make their way into the English and German single charts again with the single “Money.”

1974

Pink Floyd are tired of success and go back to their private family lives, with rumors appearing that the group will break up. In autumn, the double album “A nice pair” comes out, which is a rerelease of their first two albums.

1975

September: The album “Wish You Were Here” releases.

1976

This year, Pink Floyd doesn’t appear publicly that much as well, except for some performances at festivals.

1977

January: In Dortmund Pink Floyd start their first German tour since 3 years ago on the 23rd. They have 2 concerts each for Dortmund, Frankfurt, and Berlin, with Munich having 3. All concerts were sold out 2 months before the tour started. Simultaneously the 11th album of the band, “Animals” releases. Even before the album released, “Animals” goes gold, with 250 000 records being preordered. This German tour is also the starting point of a months long worldwide tour — the most comprehensive one that Pink Floyd have undertaken yet.

Written originally by: K. E. Siegfried

Translated from German to English by: me! (Vik)

(Btw my source to where I found this is the Internet archive, love that place!)

also here are some pictures that were included in the magazine of the band!

[mynameistocool]

-Ask and you will receive-

Richie Jerimovich x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, a gun, suicide, and Richie being a duck but that’s not really new.

Assistance - Chapter 1

The worn bell above the door of The original Beef of Chicagoland jangled, its chime as tired and weary as the shop itself. You, age 28, stood behind the counter, wiping down the laminate surface with a well-used rag. The sandwich shop, nestled in the heart of Chicago's West Side, had seen better days. Its once-bright sign now faded and chipped, much like your own dreams that had dulled over the years.

Born and raised in Chicago, you are a product of the city's gritty charm and resilient spirit. You grew up in a modest apartment a few blocks away with your Pa, where the scent of freshly baked bread from the shop had been a constant in your childhood. Your parents, hard-working and loving, had instilled in you a sense of duty and loyalty that you now applied to your job, though it was not the life you had imagined for herself. At 20, fresh out of high school and full of ambition,You had taken a job at the small sandwich shop as a busser to save up for college. The plan was to stay just a year or two, but life had other ideas. Family responsibilities, financial setbacks, and the comfort of familiarity had somehow kept you there, cleaning table and dishes to then serving sandwiches and smiles to a loyal yet dwindling customer base.

The small sandwich shop had become a second home, it’s dented metal chairs and scuffed linoleum floors as familiar as your own living room. The small, cluttered kitchen where you prepared orders was a place where you could almost move with your eyes closed. The regulars, a mix of blue-collar workers and neighborhood eccentrics, often greeted you with the warmth of old friends. To them, you weren’t just an employee; you were, the girl who knew their orders by heart and listened to their stories with genuine interest. That was four months ago before the owner Micheal or Mikey Berzatto as everyone called him blew his fucking brains out in the crack of night. He was a good man.

And each day, as you wrapped sandwiches in wax paper and rang up sales on the ancient cash register, you couldn't help but wonder what your life might have been like had you taken a different path or if Mikey had not died.

The shop’s worn walls, covered in vintage posters and faded photos, whispered tales of its heyday, a stark contrast to its current state. The overhead lights flickered occasionally, casting fleeting shadows that danced across your tired yet hopeful face. You sighed, pushing an escaped strand of hair behind your ear, and glanced at the clock. You moved with practiced efficiency, slicing tomatoes and arranging fresh lettuce with a precision born of years of repetition. The prep work was a familiar routine, a symphony of motions you performed without conscious thought.

"C'mon, guys, we open in twenty! Let's get it together!" Carmy bellowed from his station at the front of the kitchen. Carmy, the young head chef and now owner, had taken over the shop after his brother Mikey's untimely death. His relentless drive carried the weight of a legacy he was determined to honor. His voice, sharp and urgent, echoed through the room, a reminder of the high standards he upheld.

You glanced over at Marcus, a young man with a bright smile and an infectious enthusiasm. He was busy kneading dough, his hands a blur of motion as he worked on the bread and pastries. Flour dusted his apron giving him the look of a snow-dusted sculpture. He caught your eye and flashed a grin, the kind that made the morning rush a bit more bearable. Ebra, the oldest among them, was meticulously slicing meats with the care of a surgeon. His years of experience showed in the way he handled the knife, each cut precise and perfect. You had learned a lot from Ebra, his quiet wisdom a steadying force in the chaotic kitchen. "Tina, how are those potatoes coming?" Carmy called out, his sharp eyes scanning the room. "Almost done, Jeff !" Tina replied, her hands deftly chopping peppers and onions. She moved with a grace that belied her tough exterior, a no-nonsense woman who kept the team in line with a well-timed glare or a sarcastic comment.

You focused on your task, your hands moving automatically as you prepped for the day. Despite the clamor and chaos, there was a rhythm to the kitchen, a dance they all knew well. It was in these moments, surrounded by you “makeshift family”, that you felt a strange sense of small peace, even if just for a fleeting second. "you got those tomatoes ready?" Carmy's voice snapped you back to reality. "Almost there," you replied, picking up the pace. You knew the drill: speed and precision were the order of the day. The customers would soon be lining up, and everything had to be perfect.

“Behind, behind, behind.” A quiet and new voice could be heard from behind you making your head quickly turn your hands still sliding the chopped vegetables into the small plastic tub. “Who are you ?.” You take note of the new woman your head bobbing up waiting for a response.

“Sydney.” She quickly replied with small smile and you introduced yourself back out of respect and kindness you were new once you know how much of a ball-ache these people are turning back to your work quickly moving along but you did mange to catch Sydney chasing after Tina who only spoke Spanish to her the interaction making smile. “Corner !” And then it quickly disappeared at that voice.

The kitchen door swung open, and Richie strolled in, tall and lean with a buzz cut. At 37, Richie was an enigmatic mix of charm and grit, his presence both a comfort and a complication. He and Carmy were close, calling each other "cousin" though they weren't actually related. Their bond was one forged in shared history and mutual respect.

"Yo, family morning ," Richie called out walking round a fretting every person with a friendly smile and hug apart from you. “Fucking with my program cousin.” He called out to Carmy, who just mumbled back and short answer “program started four hours ago.” barely looking up from his prep station. “Yeah well I had the kid all morning excuse me.” Richie turned meeting Carmy heads half way up “listen what’s happening with Ballbreaker my insta fucking blowing up.” Richie spoke “you got like thirty followers.” Marcus added turning away “yeah, I got… what is that a diss ? Yeah I got thirty six followers you fucking jackass.” Richie bit back his laugh echoing through the kitchen joined by Marcus’s.

“We need business, nerds come in from Rockford to play.” Carmy responded making his way round others “yeah in 1987 when you were still in that deadbeats balls.” Richie reached out for Tina who was reaching up to kiss his cheek “how are you ?” Richie switched to her other cheek leaving a quick kiss “yeah how was the recital ?” She asked meaning Richie daughter “oh god ! She fucking murdered it Tina. Hold on…” Richie quickly followed Carmy moving figure.

Your jaw tightened at the sight of Richie. To put it simple your relationship was a constant friction, sparks flying whenever you two were in the same room. You didn't appreciate his laid-back attitude and constant aggression/ hostility and he found your seriousness grating. You both had mutual dislike which was a poorly kept secret in the small, bustling kitchen.

"You got those preps ready?" Carmy asked sliding past you. “Like I said almost there," you replied, picking up the pace even more. Richie ambled over to the counter, eyeing your work. "You sure those tomatoes are fresh ? They look a little tired, like someone I know." You shot him a withering look. "Just worry about your own shit, Richard. I'll handle mine." Carmy intervened before the exchange could escalate. "Alright, enough. We've got a busy day ahead. Let's focus." You moved along stepping in-front of Carmy and Richie making your way to the walk in the pair of men following you close behind.

“Scuse me.” You slid past Sydney reaching up for the fresh parsnips. “Whoa who the fuck is this ?” That grating voice came again. “Sydney.” You quickly spoke going onto your tip toes. Who the fuck put veg this high ? “this is Sydney. I’m staging today.” The young woman spoke up for herself “Your what-ing today ?” Richie asked his voice confused as he looked between Carmy and her “she staging you dipshit she just fucking said.” You sneered still trying to reach for the veg “At-least I can reach the fucking veg.” Richie hissed back watching the twenty eight year old struggle. “She’s helping us out today.” Carmy intervened “can I use these Bananas ?” Sydney held up the fruit waiting for Carmys approval “cousin you order different mayo ?” Richie asked “no. all you chef.” Carmy responded to Sydney ignoring Richie “yeah all you chef.” Richie spoke up standing tall by the entrance as he threw his hands in the air. “He was using them to make a giant nut muffin.” You rolled her eyes at the comment. What a fucking idiot. “It was a play on a panettone. It would have been beautiful if you’d let me finish it.” Camry quickly defended himself “oh cousin.” Richie smacked his back making Carmy drop some stuff “Fuck you !” He shouted out.

“Richie Jeremovich. Pleasure to meet you sweetheart.” He held out his hand to Sydney who just shook his hand awkwardly “oh Richie really ?” You nearly threw up in your mouth at his sweet words “don’t say sweetheart you fucking wierdo.” Carmy made the same expression as you as he stood between the pair grabbing some more ingredients. “Oh sorry you guys are so woke.” Richie threw his head in air “I meant nothing by it Sydney saying sweetheart is just part of our Italian heritage.” He held his hands up following Sydney as she left the walk in. “That beautiful. Thank you.” She walked away back into the bustling kitchen. “Italian ? I have more fucking Italian in me than you” you walked past him out the walk in “I bet you have.” Richie threw his head up “what the fuck is that meant to mean ?” You turned around staring at the man “you know what it means.” He shrugged his shoulders “you’re a fucking dick.” You spat “we know.” He shrugs once more “Fuck off Richard.” You walk away not in the mood to deal with him “don’t use’s that fucking name.” He held his hand high as you left.

You quickly finished the last of your prep and started organising the ingredients into their designated stations. Ebra, with his usual meticulous care, was laying out the meats in perfect rows, each slice almost a work of art. Tina, now done with the other vegetables while Marcus was pulling out bread. After few loud shouts and bangs from the walk in walked out stopping infront of the spice rack well shelf he was trying to distract himself and by your guess make it look like he was actually doing something for fucking once. His tall frame was making quick work of the high shelves. Searching through the changed inventory his face showing his pissed off emotions more and more as his eyes searched the area.

Maria started cleaning the tops placing the fresh prepared sliced veg near Tina finishing in two minutes flat she made her way round the kitchen for search off any other messes she’d have to fucking clean.

“Was richie always an arsehole ?” Marcus asked Fak as he fiddled with bolts on the mixer “always and forever dude.” Fak turned hearing your footsteps checking it wasn’t the man of hour Richie “just ask her.” Marcus looked to you “I ain’t saying shit about him.” And right you were as Fak began running his mouth again Richie approached “he the worst he’s not a nice guy. He’s just sad inside.” The words left his mouth and the tattooed man felt his presence behind “Fak.” Richie sent a warning look his way before turning to you his brows furrowed to which you just shrugged like he did earlier.

“Yo Family’s up.” Sydney called from the other room and everyone flooded through ready to taste the chefs food. As soon as you walked in the smell hit and fuck it was a delicious smell quickly making your way over to a seat grabbing the small pots Sydney had prepared “this look’s good Sydney.” You smiled at the young woman. The rest of the team took their seats all digging into the prepared meal “alright I’ll start I’m grateful for Philip K Dick. Fak you’re up.” Richie spoke his mouth full. Fucking disgusting. “Me ? Ahhh I’m thankful for my cats Ralph.” Fak sputtered out not expecting him to be included “they both named Ralph ?” Tina tilted her head in a questioning manner. “Yeah it’s just like it’s easier that way.” Ralph explained himself making Tina laugh “alright Tina you’re up.” Richie ushered the attention to the older woman sat at the corner of the table. “I’m grateful for all you.” She flung one hand up before dipping her head down with a warming smile making table erupt in awes and coos “awww look at you softy.” Richie tease over the table. “I guess I’m grateful that Richie didn’t come in here wearing that cologne that he always be wearing you know that smell like a pine tree and shit.” Marcus added his two pence into the lineup making the whole table laugh “Y/N ?” Tina addressed you “ummm I’m grateful for… fuck.” You tried to think “you’re grateful for fuck ?” Richie raised his brows “no you arsehole i am grateful for being here in this sandwich shop with all you fuckers.” You mumbled out digging into your bowl and the table laughed “and for not having knife on me to stab Richard.” You quickly added having more laughs out the table and a jack off gesture from the man himself.

You were too spaced out eating your meal with the chattering background that eased your worries away to realise Carmy had gone outside to deal with the growing crowd or more likely mob of nerds. It wasn’t until Richie scraped his chair across the floor that your attention had came back to present the tall man quickly got up and left marching to the kitchen and you followed already knowing his procedure to dealing with these things.

“what the fuck are you doing ?” You asked following the man making him turn to give you one quick look “what the fuck are you doing ?” He repeated your question annunciating the you “seriously ?” You watched as he searched the kitchen “yes seriously.” He quickly pulled open a pot digging through and grabbing his gun “oh what the fuck.” You threw your hands in the air “shut up.” He held it in his tight grip walking past you. “You gonna shoot them Richard ?” You followed after him again. “Didn’t I tell you to fucking stop with that.” He abruptly stopped making your body smack into his the gun held closer to your face “now fuck off.” He marched outside holding the gun high as he fired one shot nodding his head.

“Merry Christmas lizards.” Richie shouted through the microphone he continued his little speech warning them all of the consequences if they did not follow his rules before bidding them goodbye with one last “fuck you” and ushering Carmy into the shop. The pair argued and it didn’t stop till Richie shoved the tins of spaghetti in Carmy arms “Sydney sorry about the gun babe I had to get real.” He offered a short apology to the new chef walking towards you putting the gun down his stupid spots pants you who still stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining space and before you could even open your mouth and shoot a insult or snide remark his way Richie was very close to your face his long finger which were connected to those large hands of his stunk of tobacco and vanilla “not a fucking word out of you.” You looked to him his face so very very close to yours as his brows furrowed and eyes stared down his large body towering over your and this time you did not push it but instead just waited for him to march away in his hissy fit and flip him off.

[cherrygirlystuff]

Sleaze Diaries: Embracing the Indie Sleaze Lifestyle 🌟

Indie sleaze isn’t just a style—it’s a way of life. It’s about finding beauty in the chaos, embracing the raw and unfiltered, and living life with a rebellious spirit. Here’s how to document and live out your own indie sleaze journey, one day at a time.

1. Concert Nights: The Heartbeat of Indie Sleaze 🎶

Concerts are the soul of the indie sleaze scene, full of energy, raw emotion, and unforgettable moments. Here’s how to document your concert nights in true indie sleaze style:

Capture the Vibes: Bring your camera or smartphone and snap photos of the atmosphere, the crowd, and those electric moments when the music hits just right. Look for shots that capture the energy and chaos of the night.

Get Up Close: If you’re lucky enough to get close to the stage, take photos of the band in action. Focus on those raw, intense moments where the artist is fully immersed in their performance.

Document the Crowd: Indie concerts are all about the community. Capture the excitement and energy of the crowd, from the headbanging fans to the quiet moments of connection between songs.

Concert Night Tip: Use filters or effects that add a bit of grit to your photos, reflecting the raw, unpolished feel of indie sleaze. Grainy textures or black-and-white shots can add a vintage touch.

2. Dive Bar Adventures: Where the Magic Happens 🍻

Dive bars are the quintessential hangout spots of indie sleaze culture—where the music is loud, the drinks are cheap, and the people are real. Here’s how to document your dive bar adventures:

Capture the Atmosphere: Dive bars are all about their unique character. Photograph the quirky decor, the dim lighting, and the worn-in furniture that give these places their charm.

Focus on the Details: Snap pictures of the little things that make dive bars special—like a perfectly worn jukebox, a collection of old band posters, or a bartender pouring a drink with flair.

Show the People: Document the vibrant personalities that frequent dive bars. Capture candid moments of laughter, conversation, and the occasional dance-off. These shots bring the spirit of the dive bar to life.

Dive Bar Tip: Opt for low-light settings and embrace the imperfections in your photos. Dive bars are all about authenticity, so let your photos reflect that raw, unfiltered vibe.

3. Day-to-Day Indie Sleaze Life: Embracing the Everyday Adventures 🌟

Indie sleaze isn’t just about the big nights out—it’s also about finding the magic in everyday life. Here’s how to document the ordinary moments with that indie sleaze flair:

Everyday Adventures: Whether it’s a day spent wandering thrift stores, hanging out at a local café, or just chilling with friends, capture the little moments that make up your indie sleaze lifestyle.

Embrace the Imperfections: Indie sleaze is all about authenticity, so don’t worry about making everything perfect. Embrace the messiness and the spontaneity of everyday life.

Tell Your Story: Use your photos and stories to create a narrative of your indie sleaze life. Share anecdotes about your favorite spots, the people you meet, and the little things that make your day special.

Daily Life Tip: Keep a photo diary or journal to document your adventures. Mix in candid shots, personal reflections, and snapshots of everyday moments to create a comprehensive picture of your indie sleaze life.

Final Thoughts, Gorgeous: Living and Documenting the Indie Sleaze Vibe 🌟

And there you have it—your ultimate guide to living and documenting the indie sleaze lifestyle with Sleaze Diaries! Whether you’re capturing the energy of a concert, the charm of a dive bar, or the beauty of everyday moments, remember to embrace the raw, rebellious spirit of indie sleaze in everything you do. Your photos and stories are a celebration of a unique and authentic way of life.

What’s your favorite indie sleaze moment or spot to document? Share your stories and photos in the comments—I’d love to see how you’re living out the indie sleaze dream! 💕

[reasonsmandy]

Lady Vinyl

Graham Dunne x Fem!Reader

✧.* requested by anon — Graham x shy reader! Just two softies being cute together

✧.* summary — Your shyness was always a hindrance, but not when you were behind the LA radio speakers. Graham was curious about you from the first time he saw you at the bar where they played, and since then he has needed to get closer to you.

✧.* warnings — none

✧.* word count — 4.0k

✧.* 🪕 — Graham's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — In case you'd like to be tagged in other djats stories of mine, the link to my tag list is at the end of the story. Good reading :)

The bar is dark and smoky, lit only by a few flickering candles and the glow of neon signs in the windows. You can smell the heady mix of alcohol and tobacco in the air, along with a hint of something else - something more illicit.

The room is small and cramped, with mismatched tables and chairs scattered haphazardly around the space. The walls are lined with vintage posters and photographs, most of them faded and peeling with age. The bar itself is a sturdy wooden affair, its surface scarred and scratched from years of use.

Behind the bar, your dad is mixing drinks with practiced ease. He looks up as you walk in, giving you a nod of recognition before turning back to his work. You take a seat at one of the tables, the one that is furthest away and almost hidden in a poorly lit corner, feeling a little out of place among the regulars who are already settling in for the night.

When listening to the sound of guitar strings and drum sticks against the drums, you glance up at the stage. The lighting is dim, with just a few spotlights illuminating the musicians. Your dad had asked you to stop by the bar that night, and even though you're busy with your radio show stuff, you decided to grant his request.

"Hey peaches." Your dad greets you, handing you an orange juice. "How are Lady Vinyl's projects, huh?"

"Shiii! Dad, I told you a million times already." You scold him, causing him to raise his hands in surrender. "Don't mention her, not here where someone can listen."

"My bad my bad." He chuckles as he shakes his head, he sits down beside you. "Rod said they're good, maybe a band will please my little girl for once, huh."

You smile, taking a sip of your drink before responding. "We'll see about that, dad. But I did find some really interesting bands while I was out doing research for the show. I think this next one will be a hit with our listeners."

Your dad nods, looking over at the stage where the band is setting up. "I trust your gut, kiddo." He gets up and places a kiss on the top of her head. "Wait for me here, alright? As soon as I close, I'll drop you off at home."

As the band takes the stage, the room is charged with anticipation. The first notes of their song 'Look me in the eye' echo through the bar, and the crowd begins to sway along with the rhythm.

You pull out your notebook and start scribbling down notes, trying to capture the essence of the band's performance. But your mind keeps wandering to your own radio show. You're proud of what you do - you've built up a loyal following by sharing your extensive knowledge of rock music from the 60s and 70s. And the anonymity that comes with using a pseudonym allows you to feel more free and confident on air.

You had an idea for the next show and you were very excited about this one, you had visited some local bars to listen to the up and coming bands there and talk about them on the show. That was another good side of being behind the pseudonym, nobody would find out that you were the broadcaster of the show and would treat you differently for it, you would see the raw presentations in their pure apex. So when your dad said he had booked a band on Rod's recommendation you decided to stop by to see.

As the song progresses, you notice the crowd's reactions. People are smiling and nodding along with the music, some even singing along to the chorus. You're impressed by the band's energy and presence on stage, as they seem to command the attention of everyone in the room. But one person in particular catches your attention, the guitarist had amazing energy, he felt every chord he played in a unique way... It was so captivating, you couldn't take your eyes off of him.

You find yourself transfixed by the sight of him, drawn in by his passion and talent. You've always loved music, but you've never seen anyone play like this before. For a moment, you forget about everything else - the noise of the crowd, the smell of smoke, the weight of your own shyness. All you can think about is the music, and the man creating it.

The hours passed and they kept the energy at the same level, it was impressive how each new song conveyed more of their passion for what they were doing. You wrote down every detail that attracted you to the performance, and without realizing it you had focused too much on the guitarist, you laugh when you notice your slip and write more things about the drummer for example.

As the night wears on and the band's set comes to an end, Graham's eyes keep darting towards you in the back of the room. He can see that you've been taking notes throughout the performance, and he's curious about what you're been writing. And there was something in your manner that he was itching to find out more, he remembered seeing you a few times at the bar, but no more than minutes so he never had the opportunity to speak to you. But today he would do it differently.

As the bar begins to clear out, Graham starts packing up his equipment, shooting occasional glances in the direction of you, at first you think you're getting crazy and started to see things, but when he smiles at you, you immediately take your gaze to your notebook, pretending it wasn't you. He can feel his curiosity getting the better of him, and as he finishes packing up his guitar, he turns to Warren.

"Warren man, can you cover me?" He says winding up the guitar wire.

Rojas turns to him with a cigarette between his lips. "Of course man, but don't you take too long because I want to talk to that chick over there." He says blowing smoke from his cigarette.

"No problem, I won't be long." The younger Dunne walks off the stage, heading towards you.

You feel him approaching and anxiety takes over your body, you try to calm down but nervousness won't let you. You drink the rest of the juice in your glass, thinking about how to act normally, your father watches you from a distance and laughs at the situation, shaking his head.

"Hey." His voice sends a jolt of energy through your body, you knew there was no escape now and you look at him.

"Hi." Your voice barely comes out, and you close the notebook looking at him.

"Is it okay for me to sit here with you?" His eyes looked much lighter up close, and you had a hard time taking yours away from his.

"Sure." You said a few things, and he notices your nervousness, finding it kinda cute.

"I couldn't help but notice that you wrote down a lot of things in there." He points to the notebook in front of you. "Any ideas on how I can improve my performance?"

"I don't... Oh, sorry if I distracted you." His voice came out in an almost whisper tone and he couldn't help but smile, you were interesting.

"The only thing you did was give me one more reason to play better." He says capturing your attention more. "Being in the audience... You know? Like, you inspired me to play better..."

"I understood the pick up line." You laugh at his nervousness feeling yours slowly slip away.

…

KLOS 95.5

Lady Vinyl (you): My dear listeners, I come to bring you wonderful news! The Rise of Rock at Sunset Strip is being born and enchanting the ears of anyone who takes the time to visit the bars at night. I must say that I feared this big musical change, but evaluating and listening more carefully to the bands that appear around, I feel that something good is coming. Can I be wrong? Yes, but y'all know that rarely happens [chuckles]. And speaking of good bands, I have to give a shoutout to 'The Six' who played a killer show at The Stache last night. If you missed it, you missed out on something special. But don't worry, I'm here to fill you in on all the juicy details. The energy was electrifying, and the crowd was absolutely loving it. They started the set with 'Look Me in the Eye', a song that I just can't get enough of. The guitar riffs were on point, the drums were pounding, and the bass was just groovy enough to get everyone moving.

"You hear that man!?" Warren exclaims while jumping of excitement. "Do you understand how big this is?"

"She said the bass made everyone move! ." Eddie says feeling a little cocky. "I knew I was wonderful that day."

Graham could only hear his friends as background noise, his focus centered on the voice coming out of the radio speakers, while Camila congratulated them for having won the attention of the broadcaster he could only focus on how familiar that voice sounded, he strained to try to identify where he had heard that timbre before and after a lot of effort, he can see the image of you writing things down during the show came in his mind. He smiles broadly, he needed to see you again.

Lady Vinyl (you): And let's not forget about the vocals, which were nothing short of amazing. There's no doubt in my mind that these guys are the new rock sensation of Sunset Strip, and if you trust my gut and know that I only bring you good things, believe me when I say: You will still hear a lot from them. So, keep your ears open and your turntables spinning, because the sound of The Six is here to stay. This is Lady Vinyl signing off for tonight my lovelies, next week I'll be here at the same time but until then... make me proud and keep these vinyls spinning. Bye bye!

"Hey Graham, did you hear that?" Karen catches the attention of the younger Dunne who comes out of his trance. "The new rock sensation of Sunset Strip!" She quotes you.

"Yeah yeah." He says without paying her attention, he could only think about you and how badly he wanted to see you again.

...

He felt beads of sweat trickle down his face as his fingers danced across the guitar strings in automatic fashion, the most natural muscle memory he had acting up while his attention was focused on finding your pair of eyes among the people on that dimly lit bar. But there was no trace of you, which made him a little disappointed as he looked forward to seeing you again.

When people had already left and the band was eating after introducing the youngest Dunne approaches the bar with a sad face, the bartender notices the man's downcast face and decides to talk to him.

"What has you so down son?" Tayrone's voice was thick, and echoed in Graham's ears.

"I've been looking for someone for days and nothing." A sigh escapes the guitarist's lips. "I think I'll just give up."

"Look, I don't usually keep tabs on all the regulars but maybe I can help." Your father was wiping some glasses while listening intently to the man in front of him.

"There was this girl here last week, she was sitting at that table in the back." Graham points to the far corner of the bar, making Tayrone arch an eyebrow. "She was writing things down in a black notebook..."

"I see," Tayrone says, nodding his head. "So, you're interested in her, huh?"

Graham nods, feeling his cheeks heat up. "Yeah, she's beautiful and she seems really interesting, you know. I've been looking for her everywhere, but I can't seem to find her."

Tayrone chuckles knowingly. "Well, I might be able to help you out with that."

"You can?" Graham's eyes widen in surprise.

Tayrone leans in conspiratorially. "She's actually my daughter."

Graham's jaw drops. "Your daughter?!"

Tayrone nods, grinning. "Yes, she's quite something, isn't she?"

Graham nods, still in shock. "Yeah, I believe so." His voice gradually disappeared, the shyness for having spoken about you like that to your father taking over him.

Tayrone chuckles again. "Well, no need to be shy now son." For a moment they are both quiet until an idea pops into Tayrone's mind. "Can you do me a favor kid? Tomorrow I have a doctor's appointment late at night and I need to leave early, can you close the bar for me?."

Graham nods, still processing the information. "Of course old Tay, count on me."

...

Later that night you went to your dad's apartment for dinner, and you found yourself seated across from him at a rustic wooden table, surrounded by posters of rock legends that adorned the walls. The warm glow of candlelight illuminated the space, casting flickering shadows across the room.

You sipped at your wine, enjoying the rich, fruity flavor as your father regaled you with stories of his youth and the wild rock concerts he had attended. As the conversation flowed, Tayrone eventually brought up Graham.

"You know, you have a secret admirer at the bar," he said casually, a smirk growing on his face.

You felt your cheeks flush at the mention of the handsome guitarist. "What do you mean dad?"

"You know, that guitarist in the band I hired? The slightly awkward little boy seems to be quite taken with you," Tayrone replied, smiling knowingly.

You laugh at his comparison. "Dad, it's not his fault that you're almost ten feet tall." You take another sip of wine. "And another thing, I think you must have misunderstood... I just don't know if Graham and I have anything in common."

"And how do you know that little one?" Tayrone asks firmly. "You have plenty in common. You both love music, for one thing. And who knows what else you might discover if you give him a chance?"

"Not a chance dad." You take a piece of cheese from the tray in front of you and offer it to him, he declines and you eat it. "He probably just wanted to clear some doubts with me..."

"Doubts about what, dear?" He crosses his arms smiling pretending to believe her excuses. "If I didn't know you so well I would even believe that excuse of yours Y/N."

"What excuse?" You shrug, pretending not to understand what he was talking about. He just plucks his eyebrow, "I don't feel safe with myself for this dad."

"Oh don't sell yourself short, my dear. You're an amazing young woman, and any man would be lucky to have you." Your father opens another beer for you, feeling frustrated that you don't get his point. "Listen to your father my daughter, the boy is nice... Give him a chance."

You nodded thoughtfully, feeling a flicker of hope in your chest. Maybe your father was right. Maybe it was worth giving Graham a chance.

As the meal drew to a close, Tayrone brought up a favor he needed from you.

"Tomorrow, I need you to close up the bar for me," he said. "I have some errands to run and won't be back in time. Think you can handle it?"

You nodded, not suspecting a thing. Little did you know, your father had a plan in mind – a plan that involved you and Graham finally meeting and talking, and a plan that would change the course of your days.

...

You had picked up the keys from your dad a few hours ago, he said he was leaving the pub at 8pm and you were already on your way to pack up and close early, Sunset as always was busy music invaded your ears with everything as you walked to your family's establishment. When you approach the door you can see Graham sitting on the stage playing with the guitar strings, there wasn't supposed to be anyone there... Your father said you were just supposed to close the bar and leave. It doesn't take long for you to put the pieces together and understand old Tayrone's plan to get the two of you together, you take a deep breath trying to count the anxiety that builds in you and open the door.

Graham hears the bell above the door and looks up at it, smiling to see you there. He gets up from the stage and greets you warmly. "Hey there, I didn't know you'd come."

You try to sound casual. "Hey, Graham. How's it going?"

"It's going great now that you're here," he replies with a smile.

"I don't mean to sound rude, but what are you doing here?" You ask, trying to understand the situation.

"Your dad asked me to close the place." Graham says running a hand through his hair.

"Of course he did." You shake your head in disbelief at what he had done. "Funnily enough, he asked me to do that too."

"Oh I see." Graham couldn't help but smile, of all the things he thought old Tay could do, this wasn't one of them. "Good, since I'm here. Can I help you pack everything?"

"That would be nice, thank you." You say objectively, trying to avoid his gaze.

You can feel your cheeks turning pink and you look away, trying to control your shyness. Graham notices and asks, "Are you okay? You seem a little nervous."

You nod, still avoiding eye contact. "Yeah, I'm just...not used to being alone with someone like this."

Graham steps closer to you, his voice gentle. "Well, there's nothing to be nervous about. We're only going to spend a few hours together, we'll talk, but if you want, I can stay quiet." His joke makes you laugh, and when he hears the sound of your laughter he feels butterflies in his stomach.

You take a deep breath, feeling the tension start to dissipate. "Okay, that sounds nice."

You two start to clean everything around, little by little you start to feel more comfortable by his side, feeling a little more at ease. You talk about your love for music, your dreams and aspirations, and your favorite bands. Graham listens intently, nodding along and adding his own thoughts to the conversation.

After a while, he suddenly asks, "Are you Lady Vinyl?"

Your heart skips a beat. How did he know? You try to play it cool. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, I've seen you at the bar a few times when you come to see the shows, she always talks about the same shows you are on, your voice matches hers" he explains. "And your taste in music is very similar to hers. I just had a feeling."

You hesitate for a moment before admitting the truth. "And what if I was her?"

Graham arches his eyebrows with a smile on his lips. "Well, you would be much more badass than I already think you are."

You blush, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and pride. He seems to notice your sudden embarrassment as he stops cleaning a nearby table and turns to face you. "Guess that confirms my theory huh."

You smile, rolling your eyes. "Okay, you got me. I am Lady Vinyl"

Graham explains. "I was blown away by your talent. I mean, I've been in this business for a while, and I can honestly say that you're one of the best DJs I've ever seen."

You're touched by Graham's praise, but at the same time, you feel a little ashamed. You've always struggled with imposter syndrome, and hearing someone as talented as Graham compliment your work makes you feel like you don't deserve it. "Thanks, but I don't know if I'm really that good," you say modestly.

"Don't be so humble," Graham says, looking at you seriously. "You have a gift, and you should be proud of it. I think you could go really far in this business if you just believe in yourself."

You look at Graham, feeling a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. It's not often that someone sees you for who you really are and believes in you without reservation. "Thank you," you say quietly. "That means a lot to me."

The hours of the night are slowly passing, without noticing you and Graham were already very loose next to each other. Your shyness had already gone out of your body, around him you felt free to be yourself, it was a similar feeling to the one you had on the radio, it was just you and him and he saw you as a unic person and not just another out there. The bar was already set up, but you didn't want to say goodbye to each other, so after telling Graham about your desire to learn guitar, he decides to teach you what he knows.

As you strummed the guitar strings, you could feel Graham's gaze on you, watching your every move. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks as you made a mistake, quickly putting the guitar down and shaking your head in frustration. "I can't do this," you said, feeling defeated.

Graham chuckled. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Learning to play takes time and practice."

You looked at him skeptically. "But I don't have any musical talent. My thing is just talking about music, not making it."

"Come on, don't be like that," he said, reaching over to adjust your hand on the guitar neck. "Let 's try again."

You took a deep breath and began to strum again, this time with more confidence. Graham smiled encouragingly as you played, nodding his head in time with the rhythm. You felt yourself relax as the music filled the room, and soon you were lost in the moment, forgetting all of your worries.

As the night wore on, Graham patiently taught you different chords and techniques, always encouraging you to keep going even when you stumbled. And with each passing moment, you felt yourself falling more and more in love with him.

Finally, as the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, Graham leaned in close to you, his breath warm on your neck. "You're a natural," he whispered, his fingers still on yours as you played. "Don't ever give up on this."

You turned to look at him, your eyes meeting his. There was a moment of silence between you, and then he leaned in and kissed you tenderly. As you kissed him back, you felt all of your doubts and fears melt away, replaced by a sense of pure joy and happiness.

And as the two of you pulled away, you knew that you had found something truly special – something that would last a lifetime.

…

KLOS 95.5

Lady Vinyl (you): Hey there, music lovers. It's your favorite music lover, Lady Vinyl, coming to you live from our cozy little studio. Today, I wanted to talk about a band that's been making waves in the music scene lately - The Six. Now, I know I've talked about them before, but I just can't get enough of their unique sound and killer guitar riffs.

But you know what they say, music isn't just about the notes you play, it's about the emotions you evoke. And speaking of emotions, have you ever had a moment that just takes your breath away? Maybe a sudden burst of inspiration, a breathtaking view, or even a surprise kiss that leaves you feeling dizzy and wanting more.

Well, that's the power of music, my friends. It has the ability to transport us to another world, to make us feel alive and passionate. And that's why I love what I do. And of course, don't forget to buy 'SevenEighNine'

So keep on rocking, and who knows? Maybe you'll have your own moment of musical magic soon enough. This is Lady Vinyl, signing off."

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... If you wanted to ask for something my requests are open, and if you want to ask and don't have any ideas check out my prompt list :) xoxo

Want to be tagged when new stories come out? REASONSMANDY'S TAG LIST

tag list: @lantsovcolors

[monkeyssalad-blog]

DOLA, George. Régina Badet, Chez Mayol. by Halloween HJB

[heavenlytouches]

Could you do a Tate x Male reader fic. Where the reader is like super alternative (gothhhh). And Tate and him somehow became best friends and the reader’s just giving him a make over, maybe some kissing near the end?

Hello sweetie! Thank you so so much for a request! Also I'm so biased, goths are one of the most amazing groups of people :O So let's give Tate a makeover!

El <3

Tate Langdon- baby bat

*ੈ𑁍༘⋆

MALE reader

<3 (SFW)

TW!- none

Tate and reader are besties :3

Tate gets a goth makeover!!

Tate Langdon

(Tate is purple in this fic so lines don't get mixed up <3)

The sun began to set behind the dilapidated dark house, casting shadows that danced across the wooden floorboards of Tate Langdon's bedroom.

The room, with its peeling walls and vintage horror posters, was a sanctuary for two misfits: you and Tate. It always had felt more like a refuge from a mundane world that never understood you both.

You flopped onto the worn-out beanbag chair while Tate sat on the edge of his bed, fiddling with a dark gray hoodie that clung to his slender frame. There was a distinct gloominess about him that you had grown accustomed to; his brooding demeanor was an alluring kind of darkness, fitting with your own dark colored alternative style.

You took pride in your appearance: today's makeup was a mix of deep purples and blacks that enhanced your pale complexion, your eyes lined with sparkly eyeliner that caught the last rays of sunlight filtering through the dusty windows.

“You know, you’re way too invested in this."

He mumbled, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you set up your makeup products across the floor.

“Just trust me, Tate. You’re going to love it.”

You laughed, a soft, playful sound that filled the otherwise silent room. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement as you pulled out your arsenal of lipsticks, eyeshadows, and brushes.

“Makeovers and all that- it's not really my thing, you know.”

He pouted, running a hand through his tousled blonde hair, which fell just above those hauntingly beautiful eyes.

“Doesn't matter. You’re going to look hot. Plus, it'll be fun.”

You said, your voice dripping with enthusiasm as you leaned closer. The scent of his cologne mingled with the stale aroma of the old house, grounding you in this moment.

With an exaggerated sigh, Tate finally relented, rolling his eyes in that endearing way that made your heart race.

“Fine. But if I don't like it, you owe me.”

You immersed yourself in the task, gliding a foundation brush across his pale skin, trying to hide the scattered freckles that dotted his face like constellations. You teased him about being a vampire, given the way light seemed to avoid him.

“See? You look great already.”

You said, trying to lighten the mood as you started on his eyes with a dark, smoky shadow.

Tate looked skeptical, inspecting his reflection in the mirror.

“I feel like I'm about to perform some dark ritual or something.”

He chuckled, but the sound was more serious than light-hearted.

“Trust me! You’re just channeling your inner goth prince!”

You quipped, adding a dab of silver to accentuate the darkness surrounding his dark brown eyes. As you pinched his cheeks for a light blush, he swatted your hands away, gently, but a smile crept onto his lips.

“Okay, okay! Maybe it’s not so bad.”

He muttered, pretending to focus on anything but you. You loved how he always softened for you, gradually letting down the walls he built against the world.

As the makeover progressed, you smeared a dark eye pencil over his lids, stepping back to admire your handiwork. He caught your gaze in the reflection of the mirror- confused, bold, and distinctly… Tate.

“I look like a hot mess.”

He teased.

You smirked, leaning closer, whispering conspiratorially.

“Tell me you don’t love it!”

Right then, he turned his head to meet your eyes, a flicker of something deeper passing between you. You could suddenly feel the air thicken with tension. Without hesitation, you absentmindedly brushed a hair from his face, lingering just a moment too long. It felt right.

“Yeah, I don’t love it.”

He replied, lips curling into a smirk that didn’t quite match his words,

“I love you.”

His tone was playful yet serious, sending a jolt through your heart.

You felt warmth rush to your cheeks.

"What?"

You managed to get out, the sudden vulnerability making your heart stumble.

“Maybe I meant it, maybe I don't.”

He said quietly, the smile fading into something more earnest. But before you could respond, he leaned forward, brushing his lips against yours, barely a whisper of a kiss that sent shockwaves through your body.

It was surreal. In that electrifying moment, the glossy red of your lipstick stained his lips and mingled with the taste of something more profound- a thousand unspoken confessions laid bare in the soft graze of connection.

You didn't pull away; you pressed into it, your hearts mutual in that shared moment stolen from time.

As you pulled back- only slightly- you were greeted with a curious arch of his brow.

“What was that for?”

You fumbled for words, excitement and confusion knotted in your throat.

“I don't know. It felt right.”

He said simply, the sincerity in his eyes causing your breath to hitch.

“More than friends then?”

You whispered, half afraid of the answer.

“Maybe?”

He replied, his breath warm against your lips.

“Maybe we’ve always been.”

You were both gleaming with that newfound clarity as laughter mingled with a deeper understanding of what was simmering between you.

You broke the silence first, your voice teasing.

“You DO look like a hot mess, but at least now you have the confidence to own it.”

Tate chuckled, the tension ebbing away as if it had never been there. He raised a finger to his lips, as though contemplating something profound.

“Tell me I don't look stupid like this, and I might just agree to more makeovers.”

His playful demeanor returned, the laughter echoing in the room, clearing out the tiptoeing emotions that had filled it moments before.

“Only if you’re willing to kiss me again.”

You replied, heart racing from the challenge, a smile creeping back across your face.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the darkened room was lit by flickering candlelight, igniting shadows that danced across the walls within the painted confines of comfort. Tate stared at you- hauntingly beautiful.

In that faded horror house, surrounded by the remnants of forgotten lives, you found truth in each other's fleeting touches, weaving together the essence of two souls that shunned the world but found solace in one another.

This was great request! I loved working on ths one! I can write anything for any character babes and don’t forget- requests are always open and welcome <33

I love you guys so much

El <3

(all images were made by: El via canva & paint)

[wunderschon-lieblich]

Fuck It I’m Not Done

Biker headcanons for the AC Women that torment my brain

@kassandras-one-braincell you’ve broken me with this tbh I'm in shambles (affectionate) OG post here also NSFW warning this is a no minors post (or at the very least stop at the warning gdi)

Soma is sophisticated and expensive. Not gonna say too much here since I went into more detail previously but~ Imagine vintage restored bikes that are shiny and perfect all lined up in a pristine garage space with polished tool boxes that are filled with all her necessities to work on them and keep them gleaming. Professionally photographed, framed posters of you posed with her bikes adorn the walls of the space. She even picked lingerie to match each bike!

She only really rides one or two of her collection regularly, the majority are mostly for show. I imagine she’d have a cruiser with a good passenger seat on the back so she can take you on long scenic rides to beautiful locations, and you can bet your ass she’d have it shipped overseas on your vacations so she can take you all over the world on it. Soma is all class and polish, so her riding gear would definitely reflect that. High quality leather and helmets with coms will keep the two of you safe, comfortable and connected on your rides. She would probably have matching riding suits custom made for the two of you. I could just see her doing that.

Kassandra as the cocky performance rider. She’d have pick up lines for days, all the innuendo about taking you for a ride and how she knows how to handle curves. She’d chat you up good, and land a date for that same weekend.

She’d show up with an extra helmet and jacket for you, and she’d make sure it was all properly adjusted. In the og post about this concept, it says that you kiss her right when the helmets come off. I agree, and I’d say that you want to kiss her the moment she slides the helmet onto you and starts doing up the chin straps. For anyone who’s never worn a motorcycle helmet, they don’t have a clip like one for a bicycle would, it’s a strap that gets looped through two d-rings, and it’s kinda tricky at first. So, imagine: gazing up at her while she’s looking all intently at you with those gorgeous dark eyes, her fingertips working the thin strap quickly and efficiently on muscle memory. When she’s done she puts her hands on either side of it to check that it’s snug on your head and looks into your eyes for a moment longer than necessary. It’s electric.

When you arrive and she takes hers off, you’re still kind of fumbling with the unfamiliar clasp. She notices and hooks a finger through the loop, giving it a quick tug to undo it and free you of the helmet, whole time she's got that sexy little smile on her face. She takes it off of you and sets it on the seat behind you, arms reaching around your body to do so. At that moment you’re looking up at her and she’s so close. You can’t stop yourself from leaning in and up on your toes to steal a kiss. She’s a little surprised but doesn’t falter about kissing you back. Her hands rest so naturally on your waist. It’s short and sweet and leaves you both giddy with butterflies.

Your first date with her would be something sweet and romantic like taking you to a fancy park or perhaps a botanical garden. You’d walk around holding hands for hours and she’d be all chuffed that you gave her a kiss upon arrival to the date location. It would make her feel so confident and bold, wrapping her arms around you and allowing the affection to flow naturally. I think she would feel nervous about it being too much too soon but you just lean into it and look at her with stars in your eyes and it shuts that doubt right up. Very much a uhaul lesbian relationship in this case you would just fall so completely for each other and be comfortable together immediately. First date lasting three days kind of love story.

Eivor does motocross competitively and is a big name in the game. She also does trail riding but it’s more for fun so not her focus. She’s definitely the most reckless rider of the bunch but takes protective precautions seriously, bc she knows that she loves to go fast, push limits and pull stunts. However, if anyone else is on the bike with her she’s much more cautious and safe with her driving. She'd def pop some wheelies with you on the back if you were ok with it.

In this au I think she’d have a modest but comfortable house pretty far out of town on a decent chunk of land. She’d have a practice track built in her backyard with a trail looping around the edge and through the woods of her property. She’d do laps every day to stay at the top of her game, and just to enjoy the ride.

Her garage would be well organized but not shiny and fancy like Soma’s. Hers is functional and well used, in a separate building from the main house. Very Dad's Garage vibes in there I think. She’d love working on her own bikes, but I think she’d leave her competition bike’s maintenance to her trusted pro mechanic Gunnar.

Now I mentioned in my last reblog how I imagine they’d all have pics of you on their motorcycles, and that they’d have very different vibes.

Soma and Kassandra would display them like a trophy. Not publicly, but up on the walls of their own spaces. Eivor? She’s possessive. She wouldn’t want to have a photographer ruining the intimacy of your photos no matter who it was.

(here's where it gets nsfw)

Eivor would ride the two of you out to a nice secluded part of her property. A wooded area where she has a picnic table set up. You’d be all wrapped up in her riding jacket and pants, underneath them would be a pretty little number she picked for you, something simple and sexy like a matching bra and panty set with some lace. (I think Eivor is a bit too simple minded to prefer elaborate lingerie. Just show her something hot that she knows how to remove without finding a thousand clasps please and thank you)

She’d prop the bike up on its stand and use a Polaroid camera to take the pictures. The first ones you’re in the matching set with her jacket and your boots still on, straddling the bike with your hands on the bars as if you’re driving. She gets multiple angles, from the side so she can appreciate your legs, from the front so she can admire your breasts peeking out from the opening of her jacket.

The whole time she’d praise you saying “that’s a good girl, posing so pretty for me, now lean back let me see you- ah just like that, gods you’re perfect” she’s such a sexy photographer. By the time she’s done you’re about ready to hump the seat til you cum and she’s so horny she’s breathing manually. She knew that would happen, of course, and wore a strap under her jeans for the occasion.

After your photo shoot, she takes the dildo out of her harness and slides it back inside you, then helps you put her clothes back on over your underwear. She has you ride back with her to the house while you’re stuffed full like that. Every bump and jolt makes you whimper and dig your fingers into her. It’s not a long ride but you’re ready to rip every shred of her clothes off by the time you’re back

The pictures are kept in a cabinet by her work bench, there’s a few on the inside of the door held up with magnets, mostly the first few from the session, where you’re still partially clothed and gazing at the camera with your pretty, sultry eyes. The rest are tucked away in a small black photo album for her eyes only, the last few depict you laid back on the seat, bra gone, one of her strong hands cupping your breast. You’re holding your panties to the side, wet cunt stuffed full of her strap, your kissed bruised lips are parted in a moan. She keeps that one very secret, and takes it with her whenever she has to travel without you.

anyway now that you know I'm a total whore for this concept

This is my first time posting a full on hc set like this lemme know what you think and read the og post if you haven't yet! It sent me spiraling into madness <3

[erikaskblog]

Chatgpt made me a phantom of the opera cafe

@fymo-blogs

**Phantom of the Opera Café**

**Interior:**

- **Entrance:** The exterior of the café resembles the Paris Opera House façade, with grand arches and intricate detailing. The entrance features a red velvet carpet leading to heavy, gilded doors.

- **Lighting:** Chandeliers inspired by the iconic one in the movie hang from the ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow. Candles and vintage lanterns add to the romantic and mysterious atmosphere.

- **Seating:** Plush, red velvet upholstered chairs and booths with gold accents. Each table has a small candelabrum and a rose in a glass dome.

- **Décor:** Walls adorned with vintage opera posters, framed movie stills, and musical scores. Large mirrors with ornate gold frames reflect the candlelight, creating an illusion of space.

- **Stage:** A small stage for live performances, complete with a grand piano, where musicians play classical pieces and songs from the movie.

- **Phantom's Lair:** A cozy corner designed to mimic the Phantom's lair, with dark, gothic furniture, draped fabric, and a pipe organ prop.

**Menu:**

**Drinks:**

- **Masquerade Martini:** A signature cocktail with a mix of gin, vermouth, and a hint of absinthe, garnished with an olive.

- **Christine’s Charm:** A sweet, floral tea blend with lavender, chamomile, and a hint of vanilla.

- **Phantom’s Brew:** A dark, rich coffee blend with a touch of dark chocolate and cinnamon.

- **Opera Punch:** A refreshing non-alcoholic punch with cranberry, orange, and a splash of soda.

**Appetizers:**

- **Music of the Night Bites:** A selection of fine cheeses, grapes, and crackers.

- **Masquerade Masks:** Puff pastry shapes filled with brie and raspberry jam.

- **Rooftop Bruschetta:** Fresh tomatoes, basil, and mozzarella on toasted baguette slices.

**Main Courses:**

- **Phantom’s Feast:** A decadent beef Wellington served with roasted vegetables and a red wine reduction.

- **Christine’s Delight:** Pan-seared salmon with a lemon dill sauce, served with wild rice and asparagus.

- **Raoul’s Choice:** Chicken Coq au Vin, a classic French dish of chicken braised with wine, mushrooms, and onions.

**Desserts:**

- **Angel of Music Cake:** A rich chocolate lava cake with a molten center, served with vanilla ice cream.

- **Opera Crème Brûlée:** Classic vanilla custard with a caramelized sugar top, garnished with fresh berries.

- **Rose Petal Macarons:** Delicate macarons flavored with rose and filled with a creamy ganache.

**Specials:**

- **Masquerade Dinner:** A themed dinner event with a fixed menu, live opera performances, and costume contests.

- **Phantom’s Afternoon Tea:** A selection of finger sandwiches, scones with clotted cream, and petit fours served with a variety of teas.

**Other Features:**

- **Live Performances:** Regular live performances featuring classical music, opera singers, and dramatic readings from "The Phantom of the Opera."

- **Themed Nights:** Special themed nights where guests are encouraged to dress in period costumes or masquerade attire.

- **Private Events:** The café can be booked for private events, including themed parties, musical performances, and intimate weddings.

[panoralis]

𓆩♡𓆪   ⸻  ÉLÉGANTE is the second studio album by PANDORA . released on september 3 , 2023 , under astre entertainment , the album consists of ten tracks , including the double lead singles : NO and GRL GVNG .

after four weeks of promotional stages for the title tracks , they held a couple special stages for MY SATISFACTION and DANCE ON MY OWN . by the end of the live promotions , the girl group racked up a total of FIFTEEN music show wins . as of now , they officially hold the record for MOST music wins of 2023 .

⸻  ACTING LIKE A GOOD GIRL ˒ 𝐢. the tracklist

001  :  MY SATISFACTION

002  :  NO ❪ TITLE ❫

003  :  NAUGHTY ❪ EUNSEO & GYURI ❫

004  :  METRONOME ❪ CHIARA & LANFEN & MINDEULLE ❫

005  :  BLUE FLAME ❪ ASTER & KARIN & KOKOMI ❫

006  :  HELLO ❪ CALISTA & YUMEKO ❫

007  :  GRL GVNG ❪ TITLE ❫

008  :  SHOOT! ❪ LANFEN & KOKOMI & YUMEKO & CALISTA ❫

009  :  THE HAPPIEST GIRL ❪ ASTER & CHIARA & MINDEULLE ❫

010  :  DANCE ON MY OWN

CLICK HERE TO LISTEN!

⸻  NO LONGER NEED THE STRINGS ˒ 𝐢𝐢. era styling

TOP LEFT TO RIGHT  :  NO ❪ 1 - 3 ❫ · GRL GVNG ❪ 4 - 5 ❫ · MY SATISFACTION ❪ 6 - 7 ❫ · DANCE ON MY OWN

⸻  FOOLED BY OUR PRETTY FACES ˒ 𝐢𝐢𝐢. physical album content

NOIR VERSION  :  outbox ( 170 x 230 mm ) , photobook ( 119p ) , cd , unit photocard ( 1 out of 6 ) , solo photocard ( 2 out of 10 ) , folded poster , lyric book , vintage polaroid bookmark ( first press only ; 1 out of 10 ) , signed photocard ( first press only ) , mini fandom keychain ( pob )

BLANC VERSION  :  outbox ( 170 x 230 mm ) , photobook ( 119p ) , cd , unit photocard ( 1 out of 6 ) , solo photocard ( 2 out of 10 ) , folded poster , lyric book , vintage polaroid bookmark ( first press only ; 1 out of 10 ) , signed photocard ( first press only ) , mini fandom keychain ( pob )

PULL YOUR PHOTOCARDS HERE!

⸻  WE ARE OUR OWN MASTERPIECE ˒ 𝐢𝐯. era review

the third and final part to the mini trilogy they had begun with PAS DE DEUX , the studio album is special for several reasons . through the tracklist , the message pandora want to deliver is that the essence of a woman isn’t as black and white as society tries to make it seem .

clearly the stylists listened because this was the era of the dresses- per performance , there was at least one member wearing the said article of clothing . but hey , they looked like goddesses as usual so …

creative freedom was at its peak for this album . whether that be in songwriting , choreographing , or even the concept planning , almost everyone had something to contribute . the group truly wanted to show wanderers ( and everyone else ) how much they’ve grown .

of course , flak was drawn again because in GRL GVNG , some losers thought that the girls were cursing . by reading the lyrics , it can be proven that they weren’t so … back to the circus the sayers go ig ??

the unit songs were a hit too like … wanderers LOVED them . clearly , it was important that all the members were part of at least one unit track . hashtag stan fairness , stan pandora .

pandora in their social butterfly era !!!!! while they didn’t film a lot of dance challenges , the girls definitely enjoyed hanging out with fellow idols . as expected , there were friends who had shown up to the comeback stages to show their support , like enhypen’s jay and sunoo . ( the whole group wanted to come but only two were allowed so they played rock paper scissors- )

the first reactions to the tracklist was a mess … BUT IN A GOOD WAY OFC- wanderers constantly joke that the shuffle button and this comeback must not meet . at one point , you can be feeling like the main character . then the next ? you’re sobbing because you’re that person who’s always there for others , even if they sometimes forget about you .

save the best for last ? more like build up the pain for the end 🥹 THE HAPPIEST GIRL is a fan favorite because it’s a song that many can sadly relate to . it’s like ASTER , CALISTA and CHIARA know the pain all too well so they turned their experience into a haunting masterpiece …

and then you have DANCE ON MY OWN after it , a song that calista and chiara had also contributed lyrics for . ( dear lista and ara … babies , who do we have to bury ??? ) in one of the lives , the duo stated that it’s one of the most important songs to them , because they had been in that position — letting someone pull their strings until they broke — so they hope this song can serve as a beacon of healing for listeners .

special shoutout to LANFEN , the mastermind behind the concept of the pcs . the noir version shows off their “ idol ” side ; alluring or cute or badass . on the other hand , the blanc version is who they are off cameras — the “ human ” side of pandora .

FANBASE  :  @stealanity @lost-leopard-beanie @fairiepoems & send an ask or dm if you'd like to be added !

[lancely-blog]

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

All text copyrighted ©️ 2024 by Lancer Gareth Bailey

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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