#walk along the fashion catwalk

[yeri-luvr]

TUNNEL VISION

pair: idol!sana x high fashion model!reader

wc: 3k

includes: alcohol consumption, scissoring, oral (reader receiving), overstimulation

Sana was ready to hit the bed as soon as she arrived at her 5-star hotel, but there was no time for her own plans since she had to attend fashion week.

She could curse her managers for making her arrive in Italy 3 hours before the show started, but she can’t lie she still held the excitement she always had when going to a foreign country.

Milan held Sanas favorite gelato shop, a vivienne westwood boutique she shopped in every visit, and perhaps beautiful models she never forgot to pick up after certain events.

What got sana through her hair, makeup and styling process was the possibility of an after party, or planning on the side quests she’d attend to during her free time.

Luckily, Sana had a love for fashion and was grateful to attend such events. The notable pieces of fabric piqued her interest every single time, and sometimes a pretty model would catch her attention.

Skimming down an outfit that captivated her, she failed to notice the face that adorned the clothing.

You had a face that kept her focused longer than any other model that walked the same stage. The clothes you were modeling were easily shadowed by your beauty and the rbf you displayed didnt help shift her focus back to your clothes. Easy enough to say, Sana was hooked.

It felt like you were off the stage quicker than you got on, and Sana regretted wasting her time focusing on other outfits you shared the stage with, but was grateful you caught her eye last second.

All she could do was hope to run into you somewhere else, maybe somewhere along the streets of Milan or even better, an after party.

The rest of the show was a bore for her thanks to you. She believes her eyes wandered around the room 10 times, checked her nails 5 times, and thought about you even more times before the show came to a close with the designer thanking everyone for their attendance.

Stepping out of the event was less of a hassle compared to when she arrived since most fans dissipated, except the ones who stayed till the end of the event in hopes of seeing Sana once again. Per usual, she waves towards fans, thanking some for showing out and supporting her, and finally steps into the black SUV that would take her to her next run in with you.

You on the other hand were on cloud 9. Yeah, modeling was fun and a passion you’ve been pursuing for about 3 years, but you thought the scene that came with it was even better. Your timeless features paired along with the duality of your runway walks led you to being on the front cover of magazines, opening luxurious fashion shows, and an extravagant lifestyle you’ve yearned for since you were a little girl.

Getting off the catwalk was a relief since you were able to finally slip off your heels and your mood suddenly lifted once you remembered your planned whereabouts after this.

Stepping into the function was like a reward along with the champagne that was served to you right at the entrance. This was a playground for socialites, networking, and public figures mingling with others on the same level as them. You on the other hand did not come for networking or mingling with other well -known people, but for the free drinks and a good time with your small circle.

You usually don’t find yourself sharing a bed after nights like this, but you weren’t opposed to the idea either, you typically just went with the flow.

Heading back towards you friend group after grabbing a shot from the bar, you slowed your pace once you notice the unfamiliar face next to one of your closest friends. She calls out, “Y/N! Come here, I want you to meet someone.” You barely process what your friend says, instead focusing on the girl you’ve never seen before. Her hair had slight waves with one side tucked behind her ear that exposed her sharp yet soft jawline, and her eyes pierced yours as if she was waiting for your arrival. Sliding in the booth, you turn to the unknown girl and push your hand forward, “I’m Y/n, it’s nice to meet you!” She takes your hand and smiles, “I’m sana, you looked great on the runway earlier today!”.

It was hard to find your words when she was giving you such an endearing smile, making you focus on her pink lips that were recently coated with lip gloss. Shaking out of your trance, you realized how familiar the name sounded.

Your friends head peaked out behind Sanas, “Shes in that girl group I told you about how much I love, Twice! Remember?” That made your eyes light up and turn back to Sana, equally excited as much as your friend was.

“You don’t understand how much she talks about you guys. We were recently talking about flying out to Japan to go see you perform!”

Making further conversation with the girl came easy, you two were both interested in each other’s careers, sparking many questions and soon enough compliments that couldn’t be avoided due to each other’s flirtatious personalities. You couldn’t help but feel as if you stole Sana away from your best friend, but that became the least of your worries when you saw her drunk crying and being consoled by one of your other friends.

Sana soon put her open palm towards you wordlessly and after putting your hand in hers she leads you to the main dance floor. The heat radiating from the group of people dancing did not bother either of you since you two were wrapped up in each other’s worlds. The song, sensual but upbeat, lead your back to her front and your hips swaying side to side against her. You were thankful you had made a friend who didn’t mind being touchy, but it made you wonder if that would end in you guys becoming a one night stand.

You didn’t push the idea away and instead found yourself wanting it to manifest into reality. This urged you to turn back around to face sana and wrap your arms around her neck.

The red strobe lights made her look like the devil in disguise, a sin to indulge in, and a face you wished to see more often. You find yourself becoming grateful your friend ran into her and introduced her to you, or else you wouldn’t have been able to see her face leaning in towards you, making her forehead come in contact with yours.

Your eyes trail down to her lips and once you look back up into her eyes, hers are already focused in on your lips.

You kissed her with only your liquid encouragement and a dream, but in your favor she returns the kiss with even more assertiveness. Remembering that you’re out in plain sight, you pull away leaving sana to chase your lips, but you pulling away made her come back to her senses and realize her whereabouts.

“My place or yours?” You get out as quickly as you can. Sanas quick to decide on her place and calls up her driver to get you out of the club and onto her bed.

Ushering you out of the place, Sana grips your hand and pulls you towards where her driver was waiting. Thankfully, no fans or paparazzi were there due to the late hour. Getting out of the club was not that difficult, but sitting next to sana for a whole 15 minute ride to her hotel was hard. She was scrolling through her phone while dragging her hand up and down your thigh, too close for comfort as if it was nothing.

The car ride felt agonizingly slow as her hand built up your anticipation, leaving you resisting the urge to cross your legs. Sana took notice when you suddenly tensed up, all she did was smile knowingly.

It felt like the car barely came to a stop when Sana dragged you out the car. You didn’t notice you arrived at the hotel because of your hazy state, trying to focus on everything but Sanas hand on you the whole ride.

You let her guide you since you were unfamiliar with the place. She seemed to glide smoothly and kept her resilience impressively. You wondered if she had gotten soaked as much as you had. The thought made you flush, thinking of her seeing how wet you had gotten embarrassed you a bit.

This was a foreign feeling since you were always the most confident one in any hook up. You’ve never met someone who chipped away at your confidence and made you feel the need to submit. Sanas classiness didn’t falter once all the while she was the one doing all the touching.

She remained calm as she opened the door to her room, lead you to her bed and motioned for you to sit down on it. It made you eager to find out what was to come next.

“I’ve been eyeing you since the show,” To Sana, it was like tunnel vision. That whole day, she chose to barely acknowledge anyone who wasn’t you. Besides your friend, she exchanged pleasantries with her but that was all because she saw you come in with her.

Her hand tucking the hairs that framed your face behind your ears, she finds comfort in sitting on your lap and pushing you back by your shoulders.

No words needed to be exchanged when her hands reached for the zipper of your dress and effortlessly dragged it off. She follows suit and feels like she has just opened a christmas present.

Her eyes trail down from your face to your bra, eyeing the lace detailing that kissed your skin. Your panties left drenched with her to blame, she eyes the wet spot

You unwillingly boosting her ego, Sana took pride in managing to get you so wet with barely any work. When she started moving her hips on top of your heat, you were already whimpering so lightly that your deep breaths were heard more. She grips onto your shoulders as she lowers her upper body onto yours and was disappointed as she felt the fabric of your bras blocking contact from each other.

Removing hers then yours, she’s pleased with the feeling of your bare nipples rubbing against hers along with her hips rotating on top of you. You felt constricted as she used you for her own pleasure, almost feeling like a doll with the way she humped you.

She felt your nails lightly scratching her sides, they had a sense of urgency, begging for more of her attention. She puts your hands to a stop and places your fingers in her mouth. You look at her fascinated while she works her tongue up and down along your skin. She pulls them out with a pop and removes the rest of your garments.

She brings your two wet fingers onto her core and helps herself by dragging her lips along them, back and forth.

You glided over her clit, making her breath hitch but not making her stop. The tip of your fingers met her hole, leading sana to tease her entrance with your own hand.

You barely felt like you were alive, almost in a trance like state. You didn’t notice her hands placing yours besides your head followed by the feeling of warmth where your cunt was practically leaking. Your back arched as your clit came in contact with the girl on top of you. All you could focus was on Sana, you couldn’t pay attention to anything else but her face showcasing pure ecstasy and the sound of her slick mixing with yours.

Your legs felt like they were in a jumbled mess, but everything else felt just right. The feeling of sana moving back down for her breast to make contact with yours, her tongue searching for yours along your lips and her fingers sliding down between the two of you to feel how wet you were against each other.

Her moans were raspy and were drowned by your lips over hers. You break apart the kiss to breath since everything was overwhelming. You tried to voice out your words and what you wanted to say to her, but all that came out were hyperventilated breaths and incoherent sentences.

“Shh, breath baby. it’s okay, I’ve got you.” Sana cradles your face and slows down her movement. You whine when the pace slows down and you finally catch your breath “Go faster please, I promise I can take it.” She contemplated for a few seconds then picked back up her pace. Her muscles burned but she didn’t mind, she was glad to do the work while she got the perfect view of you falling apart.

Sana could’ve gotten off just by the faces you were making under her. She wouldn’t be surprised if the neighboring hotel guest heard you, but she didn’t care and was glad you didn’t hold your noises back.

You reaching the edge purely by clit stimulation wasn’t what you had expected, but here you are clutching sanas wrist up to your chest. “Fuck- I’m so close, don’t stop.” You proceed to move your hips upwards, chasing your high and taking sanas thumb into your mouth. You used her thumb to silence yourself, truly believing you were going to scream once you came under Sana.

Sana was fascinated by how easy it was to glide herself on you due to how much more wet you got right before cumming. She focused on grinding her hips down harder against you, making the pressure against your clit just enough to bring you over the edge. Sana kept her movements up, not slowing down as she focused on finishing herself on you.

You were limp on the bed as she continued using you to get herself off. You never came that hard before just by scissoring, and you were on the brink of tears as she slowed down against you.

Sana leaned down and kissed the tears that fell due to the overstimulation you felt. Feeling like that wasn’t enough for you, she made her way down your body and arched her back to come face to face with your pussy. It was a mistake looking down and seeing the view in front of you.

Her face was in front of your pussy that was once again being played with by her fingers, softly drawing circles on your puffy clit while she eyed down the milky liquid coming out of you.

Her tongue went straight to work at your hole, savoring the taste of you once your slick was welcomed into her mouth. Licking away at your entrance, sana closed her eyes and sighed getting lost on your taste.

You began whining for the nth time, realizing she was probably pussy drunk with the way she didn’t notice your hand pushing her head away. Her ministrations didn’t stop there and she continued to help herself by eating you up.

It’s almost as if she enjoyed bringing you to tears, you laid there on the bed once again crying for her. You tried your best to take it all, her persistent licking on your sensitive bud, two of her fingers pistoling in and out of you, and her deep groans that vibrated against you.

The familiar liquid that came out of you motivated sana to keep going. She chased the taste of you and the way your legs shook around her head almost made her want to keep going once you came again.

She focused on hitting the spongy spot that made your eyes roll to the back of your head and your back arch.

What brought you to the edge was her her lips wrapped around your clit, switching between sucking on the bud and circling her tongue around it. Your senses were fucked up and you needed to grab onto anything to keep you grounded, which unbeknownst to you, made you grab her hair.

She groaned while attached to your pearl at the feeling of you tugging at her hair. Leaving her tongue out for you to grind on, she watches as you get lost on the feeling of her.

Sana let’s herself have a little more fun with you by cleaning up your slick, her tongue tracing patterns along your spent hole and not shying away from your bundle of nerves.

You truly did not have the energy to move yourself away or to bring her to a stop. Your makeup had to be ruined by now due to the amount of times you had already cried that night, but your tears felt uncontrollable while she licked away as if she hadn’t already pushed you beyond your limits.

Opening your eyes, you’re met with the view of her licking your juices off of her fingers, one by one. The sight made you close your eyes, knowing if you continued to watch you’ll get horny all over again, and it was better off that way since your sensitive cunt couldn’t take her anymore.

Going up to your body, Sana peppers delicate kisses over your collarbone making goosebumps arise. You two laid there in silence with you finding comfort on top of Sanas chest, the rhythmic beating of her heart lulling you you to rest.

Waking up left you disappointed once you realized that Sana was not in bed with you. You’ve been through this routine a good amount of times by now, what’s the difference now?

You tried to remind yourself how you shouldn’t have expected any different from Sana but the thought of waking up besides each other, getting breakfast and exploring the city was an experience you wanted to share with the girl to get to know her better. In the process of picking up your thrown garments you notice a piece of paper on top of the bedside table. Picking it up, you read the written text with the prettiest handwriting you’ve ever seen,

“I pushed the checkout till 2 in the afternoon so you can rest up longer. If you’re ever in Korea, text me (xxxxxxxxx)”

Feeling relief and excitement, you smile to yourself knowing you’ll reconnect with the girl who left a lasting impression.

[sunnydaysshifter]

diva moments in my fame dr ˖⋆࿐໋

traveling to france on my private yacht to attend paris fashion week with my hot bf and looking amazing as ever while the paparazzi gets all my good angles, but to be fair, i don't have any bad angles.

on a day where i don't feel as confident as usual, the paparazzi takes pictures and tons of articles go wild over my beauty. i truly never have a bad face day, do i?

always keeping my fancy pen i use to sign autographs, because let's be real, wherever i go the fans go.

a baby petting my dog on a walk and giggling when it sees me, cmon, even the baby is a fan.

having a fashion line named and inspired after me, because i am THE it girl.

being so rich that when i shop i don't even have to glance at price tags.

being miss dior, that speaks for itself.

fans fighting over my attention at a meet and greet, only for me to break up the fight myself, by giving them both autographs

coachella had slowly started losing popularity, until i headlined (for the 1st time in 7 years) and made it the #1 trending topic on twitter WORLDWIDE

only having toured twice, my tours are yet still of the most succesful tours ever.

calling out my haters with grace and poise, only for them to deactivate their accounts minutes after.

apologizing to fans who waited outside the sold out stadium i was playing at because i had just too many fans

making a small (but amazing) local coffee brand blowup after the paparazzi caught me leaving there with an almond croissant, a killer lip combo, and my coffee.

being called audrey hepburn reincarnated AND hired for the role of audrey in her biopic that i help screenwrite and direct.

some of the biggest rockstars and pop culture icons being amazed to meet little old me

leaked paparazzi photos of me on a balcony in paris in the most chic dior outfit while being handed a bouquet of the most gorgeous lilies and people thought it was a photoshoot because it was just that flawless

my catwalk being so unique that it has it's own definition

being fashionably late to the met gala in a gorgeous blue getup as if i was cinderella herself

makeup artists recreating my fabulous makeup look that i invented myself

my security guards at barricade dancing and singing along to my songs

i accidentally discovered a new fish while scuba diving ?????

different cities/stops on my tours welcoming me with GRAND (and im talking GRAND) gestures, because who wouldn't be honored to have me sing for you?

my signature scent being a mix of 3 different perfumes and it blew up and became trending worldwide

having a signature pair of shades that everyone (even my haters because theyre just that obsessed with me) can easily recognize me from, haven't gone a day without them

[novankenn]

He's a ... THE Super-Model!?!

Pyrrha and Weiss were sitting cat-walk side both looking rather bored as female and male models strutted about before them showing off the most recent "advances" in couture fashion, amid the barrage of camera flashes and polite clapping.

Pyrrha: (whispering) Remind me why we're here?

Weiss: (whispering) Our publicists decided we needed to be seen, so they chose this gala.

Pyrrha: (whispering) This is BORING. I would have preferred stayed in the dorms with Jaune...

Weiss: (whispering) Why didn't you? It's not like you HAD to be here.

Pyrrha: He had another "job" and I didn't feel like sitting around alone.

Weiss: Well thank you for being here. It's always more enjoyable to be at these types of events with a friend.

The room grew quiet, as the MC, dressed in a very fashionable black suit and tie stepped out onto the runway.

MC: Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for attending, and as a thank you we have arranged for a special showing of a single piece from the Adel Sensual Business Collection!

CLAPPING

Weiss: Adel? You don't think...

Pyrrha: Who else could it be?

A few moments later Coco Adel the second year huntress-in-training and Beacon's resident fashionista stepped onto the runway, with a mic in hand. Stepping off to the left side on a raised platform making the cat-walk completely unobscructed.

Coco: So... Adel Fashions has a SPECIAL treat to close out this little semi-private showing. Showing off our selection of our "Sensual Seduction Office Line"... the Enigma...

Coco: The one and only JA!!!

WILD CLAPPING and SHOUTS OF EXCITEMENT!!!

As the music continued to play, out from behind the curtain stepped a figure that was WELL KNOWN to Pyrrha and Weiss...

Pyrrha / Weiss: JAUNE!!!!

Jaune strode down the catwalk with perfect poise. HIs outfit definitely bordered upon the feminine side. Dressed in a purple-black Blazer over top of an off-white-cream blouse with such a deep plunging neckline that it showed off his navel, which was tucked in to a pair of curve clinging purple-black business casual pants, cynched about his waist with a pair of entwined off-white-cream belts. the whole ensemble ended with a pair of gleaming black heelless ballerina boots.

Weiss: How??? He trips over his own feet in sneakers!!!

Pyrrha: ...

Jaune's features where flawlessly accentuated with make-up, and his normally wild blond mop was heavily gelled and slicked backwards. Pyrrha 's heart slammed with in her chest and unable to resist, she rose from her chair...

Weiss: PYRRHA!!! NO!!!

Weiss in desperate act to prevent the Four Time Mistralian Champion from causing a scene, grabbed her by the pony tail and yanked her backwards...

Pyrrha: But... but...

Weiss: I get it! I do! I want to do it as well...

Pyrrha glared at Weiss.

Weiss: ... BUT we are NOT Blake and Deery!!!

Jaune continued his confident and inspiring stroll along the catwalk with effortless ease and perfect poise.

Weiss: (whimpering) I wish you'd be open to share...

Pyrrha: (hissing) You had your chance...

(Master Episode List)

[blackgirlwhowrites2k23]

Summary: “You’re an upcoming model and you finally got your big break! Pharrell Williams’ debut as the creative director for Louis Vuitton also happens to be your debut as a high fashion runway model. You captivate the hearts of many from A list socialites to rising stars—including catching the attention of a certain Jude Bellingham."

A/N: A very short concept blurb. While the idea came to my mind I immediately got to enraptured in writing it that I completely forgot to check if it'll even make sense. To make myself look less crazy, let's pretend Pharrell's recent show had female models along the male models for my sanity's sake. Alright; enjoy!

Yourusername added an Instagram story:

The anticipation bubbled inside you as you prepared backstage, adorned in designer Louis Vuitton that had yet to be seen by the world. The exquisite haute couture creation hugged your body like a second skin and didn't completely wipe out your nerves, but it definitely gave you some confidence points. This is the big break you had been waiting for; the only thing that stood between you and your wildest dreams was the curtain to the start of the catwalk.

Before you knew it, the show had begun and you were past the curtain and out into what could only be described as an otherworldly experience. The venue was adorned with such ethereal lighting, casting a soft glow that danced upon elegant, extravagant chandeliers and polished marble floors. To top it all off, if the scenery wasn't enough, almost every celebrity that you ever admired was within touching distance. This night was more than just a debut; for you, the other models, and probably Pharrell himself, it was the embodiment of handwork and ambition, a culmination of dreams realized.

Your body effortlessly strutted along Pont Neuf, the bridge lights illuminating both the oldest standing bridge's platform and your radiant skin. You were on fire. With each outfit change and reappearance, all eyes and cameras seemed to be immediately be reeled in by your sheer magnetism. You paid them no mind, you continued working the runway. Within the sea of luminous faces that seemed to blend into themselves and the surrounding color, there was one pair of eyes that never left your figure.

Jude Bellingham, the charismatic young football prodigy, had fixed his eyes upon you since the moment you stepped out. His eyes, which were filled with an intensity that rivaled his ferocity on the field, sent shivers down your spine when you accidently made eye contact.

The show ended with thunderous applause, mingling with your own exhalation of relief and exhilaration. Your newfound status as a muse rippled through the fashion industry, whispers of your name mingling with the extravagant parties that followed. But amidst the celebrations, Jude's thoughts were mingled with the fledgling model, her powerful walk, and never ending confidence.

Judebellingham started following you.

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

Today - May 13th, 1977 - Queen Story!

Queen played Congresscentrum, Hamburg, Germany

'A Day At The Races' Tour

🔸Record Mirror, May 21, 1977

A NIGHT at the Congress Centrum Hamburg, where escalators take you to the concert hall and the bouncers wear suits and ties.

It's been three years since Queen played Hamburg, but it's a near sell-out in a hall which looks like a giant lecture theatre with rows and rows of cushioned, spotless white seats. The stage is tiny but somehow the roadies have managed to squeeze on the batteries of lights.

It's a late start. Backstage, a giant roadie paces up and One week down like an expectant father outside the dressing room. Classical music floats gently over the audience.

Then darkness, lights, action and The Queen Machine rolls into action. Lights explode through the gloom and Mercury stands like Rudolph Nureyev.

He's dressed in a white jumpsuit and May, in wandering minstrel gear, blasts out the opening chords to 'Tie Your Mother Down'. For a guy who shows comparatively little emotion when he plays, the effect is still stunning. The number finishes with a drum solo and tarticle

g bass rising to the top of the sound mix. The Congress Centrum has great acoustics. You could have been sitting in a recording studio.

Most of the audience are caught like a fish on the end of a hook. It's the old Queen policy of 'grab 'em by the scruff of the neck and don't let go for a second'. The lights dim again, there are same tailed some taped sounds and spotlights shine out from the stage. May's knife - like guitar announces 'Ogre Battle'.

Explonding

Mercury makes an-other grand entrance in a chequered cut suit, pointing his mike stand at the audience like a gun. At the end he's lost in a mass of exploding smoke bombs. • The band's speeches are embarrassing. They always sound so self-conscious. "Thank you every-body and welcome to the party," says Freddie —like an embarrassed scoutmaster addressing his troop. It's 'White Queen' and the dynamic duo of Mercury and May are caught under criss-cross spotlights. Mercury tosses his head back as if he's in agony and sings the mystical lyrics before leaping around like a bizarre ballet dancer. Spotlights play on a crystal ball and May stands in the corner, framed in the half light like a Renaissance portrait. He takes to the catwalk at the front of the stage for a riveting solo. Considering the rapid-fire notes he's turning out, he always looks so relaxed. Mercury returns to the stage and the number taste-fully ends as he hits a high note and a solitary spotlight plays on his head and shoulders. "It's really nice to be here in Hamburg," he announces before 'Somebody To Love'. His playing misses the light opening touches of the record. The band try to make the tune more funky — maybe trying to keep the live excitement going, but it sounds cheap.

Half the German crowd are start their British Jubilee tour, ROBIN SMITH went to Germany and found that the Hamburgers were well pleased. Yes, they played a . . .

Good Old Fashioned . . singing along but the remainder keep their seats, showing no emotion. Eventually Taylor's drumming gets the crowd going. The reserve is breaking . . . May walks across to the microphone and clicks his fingers. Mercury's piano chords announce 'Killer Queen'. This time the playing is more laid back, capturing the true sensuous feel of perhaps the most subtle and skilful song Queen have ever produced. Mercury even managed to work in a line about Hamburg.

RAGTIME

The numbers followed by the gloriously ragtime 'Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy' and Mercury's voice is showing no signs of strain. In times gone by, especially at one concert at the Rainbow, he seemed to have been lisping and struggling, but no complaints this time.

The party atmosphere is continued with 'Bring Back That Leroy Brown'. May strumming away on banjo.

It's back to Queen at their most sinister with 'Death On Two Legs', Freddie spitting out the lyrics backed by cold guitar, rumbling drums and bass.

He sounds like Christopher Lee.

"Queen would like to drink a special toast to all of you here," says F'reddie. He sips champagne delicately but - tut, tut - it's not a proper champagne glass - the real thing is tulip shaped. He passes the booze down to the audience.

FRENZIED

Time for 'Brighton Rock' - frenzied riffs stab out and May indulges in some feedback before strutting around che stage. He indulges in a deluge of rising and falling notes and then the nagging riff start, again, bouncing off your eardrums.

Source article ➡️ queenconcerts.com

[pommpuriinn]

𖥻 ִ ۫ ּ 𓏲 ، ݃♟❜ 𓈈 AIRPORTS ARE NO FUN

joohyung makes airports her catwalk but doesn’t mean flashing light and the space around her closing in don’t cause her anxiety

˖࣪،̲Ꮺ joohyung has multiple viral moments with her airport fashion which most likely causes the fashion tends to go around in korea here a few fashion moments…

˖࣪،̲Ꮺ y2k fur moment. Joohyung wore this outfit with leg warmers and a chunky shoe along with her chanel sunglasses blocking all the bright lights

˖࣪،̲Ꮺ the all vivienne westwood look. It was Joohyung’s solo fashion schedule and she was going to attend one of her favorite fashion artist vivienne show and meet her

˖࣪،̲Ꮺ all white fuzzy set. This look was a way more lay back comfortable compared to her previous ones

˖࣪،̲Ꮺ masculine airport fit. Joohyung showed her masculine side with this outfit definitely her black headphones and sunglasses gave the outfit bonus points. Along with having her hair in a claw clip really showed everyone how small her face shape is

˖࣪،̲Ꮺ of course those are only a few examples, but airports aren’t always fun for Joohyung it’s a place that causes her anxiety to spiral

˖࣪،̲Ꮺ many fans show up and the second they across the cross walk and enter the airport the fans start going crazy along with the journalists there

˖࣪،̲�� unfortunately Joohyung has many instances where people are just flat out rude to her and rude to the people around them that don’t want to be in the whole chaos 

˖࣪،̲Ꮺ this happens so much that Joohyung stopped counting after the fifth time which is fans pushing Joohyung away from a member just so they can be next to them instead of Joohyung

˖࣪،̲Ꮺ the members have expressed many times how they don’t want to see their noona or anyone else get hurt by being pushed

˖࣪،̲Ꮺ this instance was one of the worst Joohyung has ever experienced it gave Joohyung a panic attack and scared everyone. It started the same people rushing around them, taking pictures, and trying to hand gifts to any member

࣪،̲Ꮺ until suddenly the space around them became smaller and smaller. Joohyung started tripping since she started bumping into her members along with security

࣪،̲Ꮺ all Joohyung remembers is Soobin barely getting a grip on her hand, people yelling, and bright lights before falling down. Joohyung only heard a buzzing sound in her ears as she tuck her head into her arms. She didn’t want to get up especially with feeling people looking down at her

࣪،̲Ꮺ tears were running down her face, Joohyung was crying in silence. “Noona!” Taehyun frantically called. “Please move away, please.” Yeonjun pleaded at the crowd surrounding them. The other three members went to slowly pick Joohyung up Beomgyu took his bucket hat off his head and securely placed it onto Joohyung’s head to hide her face. Soobin and Kai quickly got Joohyung’s things off the floor before following all the members closely

࣪،̲Ꮺ it was probably the worst thing she has ever experienced because Joohyung was restless the whole plane ride and would get little panic attacks throughout the flight until they got into their hotel rooms

࣪،̲Ꮺ another bad moment was when a female journalist was disrespecting Joohyung right in front of her and through an article that was released the following day

࣪،̲Ꮺ as the group was riding the escalator there was cameras and journalists asking them regular questions until a female journalist started asking uncomfortable questions towards Joohyung. “Joohyung-ssi shouldn’t you wear more modest clothing?” Joohyung looked down at her white little tank top paired with a maxi skirt. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you.” Joohyung gave her a fake smile

࣪،̲Ꮺ “with being an female idol shouldn’t you have pure skin?” The journalist was looking at her tattoos. “To each their own.” Joohyung was getting irritated by the minute, but still answer politely

࣪،̲Ꮺ “I also wanted to ask isn’t it unprofessional to date within-“

“Miss please attention you might fall back.” Beomgyu got in front of Joohyung to not only end the conversation short, but to also stop the journalists from asking clear targeting questions to his Jooie

࣪،̲Ꮺ the next day the journalist wrote how rude Joohyung was towards her and how Joohyung has no respect for herself with the way she carries herself. Moas immediately came to Joohyung’s defense and got the article down along with an apology from the journalist herself

[animationmovieshipps]

From Rags to Riches: Chapter 2

When you arrived at the mall, your soon noticed that there were many girls to be part of the selection.

There were other imps like you, it also had succubus, but most of them were sinners, which caused you a little strangeness, but you soon remembered you were on the Pride Ring now, the only Ring in Hell sinners could live in it.

You sat down in one of the chairs to wait your turn. They were all so beautiful, it just made you even more nervous.

"Shit, shit, shit..." The girl next to you repeated in a low voice, looking as nervous as you.

When she noticed you were watching her, she looked at you and smiled.

"Nice to meet you, Liana." She introduced herself to you.

You smiled back at her and introduced yourself to her as well.

While the first girls were called to be analyzed, you distracted yourself by talking to Liana.

She was too nice to be a sinner. Not that all hellborns were nice, quite the contrary, but most sinners were assholes, that was why they ended up down there.

She told you all about her life when she was still alive. When alive, she was a model at the height of her career, but it was abruptly interrupted when she died in an accident in one of the fashion shows.

She had already gone through the selection process before, you didn't understand why she seemed the most nervous of all of you.

After a while, it was finally your turn.

"Good luck." Liana whispered to you.

"Thanks." You whispered back to her.

As soon as the agent laid eyes on you, you immediately noticed how impressed she seemed with your appearance, which was unimaginable, everyone said that you had an exotic appearance, different from the others.

"How old are you, honey?" She asked.

"19." You replied and she wrote it down on the chart.

"Tell me, do you happen have any modeling experience?" She asked again.

"Well, I took a modeling course when I was 14, participated in and won a few beauty contests in my hometown, the Lust Ring." You explained. "I just didn't continue, because I had priorities in my life that I couldn't reconcile with the life of a model, that was 2 years ago. But trust me when I say that I never forgot what you have to do to model."

"Well then, show me your catwalk, please." She asked.

You took a deep breath and began to walk through the space given to you, calmly, delicately, but at the same time with elegance, one foot in front of the other, spine straight and always looking ahead.

You did some poses as if you were being photographed and went back to the agent, whose name you discovered was Miss. Lenormand.

You had no idea of how you managed to take so many steps without falling on the ground once because you were so nervous, but you were glad you didn't.

After you answered a few more questions to Miss. Lenormand, she asked you to return to your place, which at the end of the selection would tell you if you had been chosen or not.

Right after you, it was Liana's turn. You could see she wasn't lying when she said she had been a model when she was still alive.

Most of the girls were hostile towards each other due to the competition, but you got along really well with Liana, you would be happy for her if she was chosen and vice versa.

Timeskip...

"Very well, girls." Miss Lenormand said, drawing all of your attention to her. "I have selected 10 girls so whatever names I say, come to me, the ones that were not called, get the fuck out of here, please."

No more words could be heard as she read the names on the clipboard, the room was so silent you could hear a pin drop on the floor.

"Lauren, Barbara, Danila, Reina, Liana..."

As soon as the agent said her name, the two of you looked at each other and hugged briefly, before she stood up and joined the others selected.

After she said the names of 8 girls, you had given up hope that your name was on that clipboard. Until when it was the ninth turn, you were amazed to hear her say your name.

You couldn't believe that after everything you had to sacrifice, you would finally achieve the biggest dream of your life.

"Me?" You asked, pointing to yourself, still incredulous.

"Yeah, but if you want I can select another one instead..."

"No, of course I want to!" You exclaimed, not containing a squeal of happiness as you got up from the chair and joined the other selectees, hugging Liana again.

-----------------------------

After a while, Daniel and Luke started to worry about your delay, since you had warned that you would be gone for about an hour and it had already been two hours since you had left.

Due to the place you were living, they couldn't help but be worried you might got killed in the way to the mall or even on the way back home.

"Do you think she's okay?" Luke asked his older brother.

"I don't know." Daniel sighed. "I could call to her phone, but I'm afraid she'll be robbed because she's on the street."

"So are we going to remain in this uncertainty?" He retorted.

Before Daniel could respond, they fell silent as they heard the sound of the door lock unlocking. They could never explain the amount of relief they felt when they saw you walking through that door.

They ran up to you and would have hugged you, if only your hands weren't full of bags.

"Girl, where have you been?" Daniel asked, cupping your face in his hands. "We were so worried."

"It's okay, I'm fine. I just took a while because I stopped by the pizzeria in the way back home." You explained to them calmly.

Seeing that you had arrived, Cameron and Laila left their crayons and drawings to talk to you.

"What did you bring?" Laila asked excitedly, noticing the bags you had in your hands.

"Oh I brought us some pizzas, fries and soda." You replied, which filled them with joy. "To celebrate that I was one of those selected!" You announced happily, which made them celebrate and jump for joy.

"I knew you could do it!" Cameron boasted.

"I'm so happy, now I can give you the lives you deserve." You smiled.

"But you already give us the life we deserve." Luke smiled, resting his hand on your shoulder.

That moment called for a group hug, but you couldn't do it with your hands full. You hurriedly went to the dining table and placed the things on it, before returning to them and wrapping all of them in just one hug.

"Aren't you going to try to run away from me?" You joked.

"No, it's a special occasion." Luke replied.

"I love you all so much." You said between laughs.

Meanwhile, the ruler of all Hell was getting ready to go to bed, after another day inventing new gadgets for his rubber duckies.

That giant bed just for him only made him feel even lonelier.

It had been 7 years since he had been living, he was surviving and even though he knew that reclusive and staying away from everything and everyone wasn't good for him, but he couldn't find the motivation to move on when he missed his former wife so much.

Suddenly, when he was about to turn off the light, he was briefly startled when he heard his cell phone ring.

He picked up his cell phone with some hope that it was someone he wanted to call, the expression on his face quickly changed when he saw that it was the fashion designer overlord. She definitely wanted to ask for something.

"Hello?" He asked, touching the phone to his ear.

Contrary to what he thought, she didn't spend much time rambling like everyone did, she got straight to the point.

She said she called to invite him to watch a fashion show from an agency associated with her clothing brand, which would be next week.

Lucifer would deny it, saying that he had more important things to do. Until he remembered what his daughter said, that he should go back to living and creating new connections instead of just staying at home.

He accepted, despite being sure that she just wanted something from him like all the others, but he hoped that he wouldn't regret that decision.

[tanalogyosc]

"People would leech on you if you become famous, thankfully, a rose has thorns."

Name: Rosé Jardinez Object: Rose Gender: Male

A fashion show model known for his Garden of Time-themed walk, Rose is as elegant as he is unfriendly towards paparazzi.

His reclusive lifestyle and aloof personality garnered many fans who wanted to know about his true self. much to Rose's displeasure. Surprisingly, Rose is friends with two people that people would've never guessed due to their differences.

The silent Trash Can and the pyromaniac Bush, who he always hangs out with in his free time. Despite this differences, They surprisingly get along well.

In other news, Rose is famously known for his rivalry with the Dulcisachean Fashion Icon, Jack O' Lantern, who is famous for his gothic Mourning Moon-themed clothesline.

Jack O'Lantern's daughter, Pumpkin Spice Latter commented that she is actually a fan of Rose's iconic scarf styling and that she and her boyfriend wear a lover's scarf because of Rose's influence.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Rose and Jack O'Lantern were actually high school sweethearts in the past who broke up when they had moved away from each other.

Will this fashionista love story meet a thorny end or have the limelight on the catwalk once more? Nobody knows.

[asheurbanipal]

The Only Option Left: Chapter 2

The Devil's Bed

on Ao3

Summary:

Our Tav finds herself in the House of Hope with Raphael's plan unfolding. Ultimately the question becomes, though, what does he want? More importantly, what does she want? Because she doesn't like what he's bringing out in her.

Baldur's Gate 3

Tav/Haarlep/Raphael

Explicit

Full Word Count: 14, 245

Content: PTSD, Depression, Trauma Bonding, mildly dubious consent, mid-sex shapeshifting, tail play, PIV and PIA, oral, hand stuff, genderfluid Haarlep

Chapter 1

Chapter 3-incoming

Haarlep was already gone when I snorted awake in a most unladylike fashion, tangled in the sheet and my gown hiked up to my hips. I was pretty certain I hadn't been fondled in my sleep, but there wasn't anything I could do about it now, if I had been. I stumbled through the room, looking for a way to freshen up. The tub had been drained, but there was a washbasin leftover, towel hanging off the side. It was a viable solution. 

When I was done, I cast around for my pack. It had been moved to the back of the room near the bed, resting against the low bench Haarlep had pulled the gown from. There was more clothing. Not dresses. A soft cotton shirt with a lace frilled collar and front. Broadcloth vest with complex embroidery. Cropped pants and new boots to pair with them, hem high enough to show the fancy stitching across the top and at the ankle. And it all fit. And it was comfortable. Beautiful and comfortable. 

Fuck.

 How could he have possibly known my size and preference? 

What other intimate things did he know about me?

After Haarlep reported in, probably more than I could bear to think about. 

After dressing and picking up my pack, I sat in the chair where I first met Haarlep and just sort of…stared…into the distance. What did I do, now? The brain was dead. The crown was retrieved. I didn't have anything else. 

Before the nautiloid scooped me up I was a sellsword. A cheap one. Nothing big. Keeping bandits off merchant caravans. Little bit of night security. A lot of the work had dried up when Gortash started kicking up his business, so I had tried moving out to the countryside. Had even considered relocating to Daggerford just for a change of pace.

Then I woke up in a pod. 

Was it possible to pick up that plan again? I could properly join the effort here to rebuild. Probably should. They needed all the strength they could for it. 

I glanced up at the door as I thought about it. There was a piece of paper. I was at the door even before I had actively decided to get to my feet. It was a note from Raphael, probably delivered by Haarlep. If I wanted to talk further I could find him downstairs. He'd be waiting.

I crumpled the paper in my hand. 

I opened the door. 

Then I set my feet along the catwalk, hoping by the time I reached the end of it, I would have decided what to do. 

"My little wonder. Have a seat." I must have blacked out, feet walking on my own, because now I was standing in front of Raphael again. His--servant? associate? employee?--dwarf Korilla was with him, seated to the side. He gestured that I should take the seat across, and I dropped down numbly. I shook my head. I needed to get my shit together. 

"Thank you for the room," I said curtly. "It was nice to have a good night's sleep."

"Is that all?" he tested.

"A lady doesn't kiss and tell," I replied, hoping that was the answer to the riddle. He cracked a knowing smile but moved on. "Korilla here was reporting in on the city rebuild. Particularly my…investments." He flourished his hand that she should continue, and she nodded.

"They're quite enamored of you, you know," Korrilla said. "A native of the Gate rising up from obscurity to overcome ceremorphosis and save the world? It's quite the story. They're talking about a statue." And Korilla was holding back a laugh at the idea. That was fair. 

"If they knew everything that happened leading up to the brain…" I sighed. 

"Martyrs for the cause," Raphael cooed. "We can put them on the plinth next to you." 

"Don't you fucking dare," I growled. 

"I'll convey your sentiment on the matter to the masses," Korrilla smirked. "Now, I have some contracts to check in on, still." She glanced to Raphael who granted permission with a nod. Then a sparking puff of red and purple and she disappeared. 

"Is that the job you're offering me?" I asked Raphael. "Following up on your…clients." I had decided at some point last night in between everything else, that if I was going to talk to him about his offer again, I needed to come on strong. Take the upper hand before it slipped out from under me.

"Oh dear me, no," he replied. "Korilla is excellent at that sort of thing. Very efficient. For you, I have something more…abstract in mind. Something that could benefit from your knack for big picture thinking."

"Is that what you call my fuckups?"

"Silver linings, dearest." He leaned across the table. "Come to my home. Stay with me awhile. Let me show you a sample of what I have to offer before I make my proposal, so you'll be fully informed before you decide." 

"Then you trap me in the hells?"

Raphael scoffed. 

"What good does that do me? You'll be free to come and go as you please. The portals will all be completely open to you."

"You could be lying to me, right now."

"Yes, of course."

"So you're asking me to trust you." 

"Unfortunately for us both." He raised an eyebrow, sharp and testing. "Have I lied to you at all since you fell from that nautiloid? Have I gone back on a single promise?" 

I dropped my eyes out of his. No. He hadn't. Not really. 

"Alright. Let's go." Almost as soon as the words left my mouth we were moving through the planes, and I was standing in the same dining room he had brought us all into on our first meeting.

"Feel free to take a plate," Raphael gestured to that same table, piled high with food. It was different, now. Rotting and foul. He gestured me down one of the long halls. 

There were people scattered through the hall, some crawling, some crying, some babbling nonsense. The smell of sulfur and burning cast over everything as we walked the dark red pathway, footsteps loud on the tiles. 

"What did these people do, Raphael?"

He waved his hand noncommittally. 

"Various and sundry sins, all poor souls who owe me a debt." 

"If I turn on you, is this the kind of punishment I should expect?"

He turned sharply, grabbing my jaw hard in his hand. 

"Should you turn on me after we make our deal, you'll wish this was your punishment."

I met his gaze, hard at the edges and firm. 

"I understand. You can let me go."

His hand fluttered away. 

"Good. Come along. I'll show you your room."

It was right next to what was clearly Raphael's boudoir, a small room off to the side with a balcony. I left that door closed, not ready to look out onto the landscape of Avernus below. The room itself was gorgeous. The walls were paneled in blue brocade fabric, and silver lace curtains fell along the lines of the rafters to create an illusion of division between the bed, the bath, and a seating area. I sat on the bed, cream-colored duvet soft and feathery under my touch. He really didn't need to offer me any more opulence than this for me to start taking his theoretical proposal seriously. Then he opened the wardrobe. 

"By Balduran's beard," I gasped, moving to the row of clothes. 

Pants and shirts and vests in coordinating colors, soft to the touch, crafted to my size. The next door he opened was an impossible closet that spread into a sword training room with a dummy with rotating arms. Along the walls were swords and maces shields the like of which I'd never seen. Made of metals I didn't recognize the sheen of. 

"These are beautiful." I ran my fingers down the blade of one of the long swords, itching to pull it down from the hook.

"Just a sampling really," Raphael said. "I don't expect you to bend for such paltry excesses." I choked on my excitement. He overestimated me. I wasn't a hero anymore. Not an adventurer. I was just a woman who liked swords and needed a purpose. He didn't need to try too hard, honestly, if he was able to give me both. But I'd hold back on revealing that little tidbit. 

I started when he touched my hand but let him take it softly. 

"This way." He pulled me along out of the room and to the big door next to mine. "Your entry credentials." He pressed my hand to a plate on the door and the whole structure shuddered and opened. The room beyond opened into a larger, more detailed version of his suite at the Caress. There was even a bath, this one large and deep. 

In the middle of it was Haarlep, wings spread taking in the water. He perked when he saw me, and moved out of the water, naked foem dripping across the floor as he approached me.

"Miss Hero. He snatched you up in the end." Haarlep tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and leaned down to speak low. "Sorry to leave you cold this morning, but I had a curfew." He cast a glance at Raphael. The devil placed two fingers against Haarlep's shoulder and pushed him away from. He stepped between us ever so slightly. 

"You got free reign last night," he hissed. "You'll need permission from now on." Haarlep responded in Infernal. They clipped back and forth quickly, a negotiation I couldn't understand but knew was about me. They raised their matching eyebrows at each other before Raphael turned to me. "Far be it from to keep such fast friends from carousing at their leisure when in such close proximity. But you only get to use him when I send him to you. For now."

He grabbed my wrist again and dragged me to a table with chairs. The one he dropped me in met me hard against my spine and backside. It was physically impossible for a chair to be this uncomfortable, so I assumed magic was involved. Raphael sat straight and narrow in his, prim up through his spine. 

"Keeping the power of the crown once I claim it is about maintaining order. It's about planning. There are loose ends all along the Storm Coast.The chaos caused by those idiots still has to be corralled a little before I can get any use out of it." He nearly spit at the mere mention of the dead three. "I'd rather things be in a certain state before I take my place. And for that I need agents of all varieties. Particularly ones who are so apt at attracting the attention powerful gods." 

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Who, like Withers? I haven't seen him in weeks at this point. Not sure how he plays into it."

"You still don't really understand who he is," Raphael chuckled. "Hm. In any case. Stay with me. Permit me to…unfold things. And you can decide if you see your future in it."

"Where's the deadline on this decision, Raphael? You haven't even given me the parameters of the deal. 

"Shhhh." He touched his finger to my lips. "Patience. I'd never let you wander into something unprepared. All in due time." And I knew he wasn't lying, but he certainly wasn't giving me the truth. 

*****

I had just finished Reverie when my door opened and the outline of an incubus appeared. Haarlep didn't wait for an answer, just wandered across the floor and slid into bed next to me. 

"It's my first night," I said into the darkness as arms came around my waist. The voice that answered back felt like Haarlep's in its curve and shape, but it was higher pitched. 

"He was done with me and said to come check on you. Make sure you haven't fled in the night."

When I reached out to touch him, I was met with soft breasts and a rounder face. It was just as nice as the other form and I pressed my body into her hips and face into her cleavage. 

"This your preferred form?" I asked. 

"No, Raphael's number two preference. You've got him hot and bothered, so he wanted something feminine." She grabbed my ass a little and gave it a pat of affection. 

"Hm. Well. I like them both so far." I ran my hand over her side. "Don't cause any trouble with Raphael on my account. I don't need that on me."

"Don't think too hard about it. Raphael thinks he's in charge, but I report to Mephistopheles at the end of the day. If he gets out of hand, all I have to do is call Daddy, and Raphael knows it."

"That doesn't really protect me from him, now does it?"

"From the way I hear it, you've got something just as scary watching your back."

"Would be nice for them to step in." I tapped my fingers along her hips and spine. "Did you want to fuck or…?"

"I'm actually exhausted. I was hoping to come in here and sleep on the off-chance that asshole wakes up and wants round two." 

"Here." I pulled her head down to rest on my chest. "I know that feeling all too well.

*****

Something I was deciding about Raphael the more I stood next to him was the impression of his height. He was taller than me, most certainly, but then I was accustomed to being right in the middle of any given party. Taller than the halflings but shorter than humans and some other elves. So Raphael was well within any of those ranges. He shouldn't have seemed so utterly giant. And yet there was this way about him that forced him to take up the entire field of my vision even in human form. In cambion form, I still struggled to comprehend him from wingtip to wingtip. 

That was how I found him in his room, scurrying to answer his call like a mouse to a trap. Gods he understood me too much; it was starting to crawl up under my skin. 

Most of the days I had been here, Raphael was in and out, gone for long lengths of time. When he called me into his room, it was always to ask something obscure about the experience of growing up in the Gate or run through a specific intricacy a thousand times to find all the holes. I had started to piece together an idea of what he wanted to do with the city, at last. He wanted full economic control, to slot into the place that Gortash had eked out for himself. I didn't understand it, but I also didn't encourage him into another direction.. 

At least I was starting to grow accustomed to the boudoir. It was less heady, less oppressive on my senses. I had even grown to like the view of the cliffs of Avernus from the large window. 

"Come here, pet," he cooed, tapping his fingers on the top of the ornate table in the corner of the room. I dropped into the chair that I had started seeing as mine. This time it was comfortable as could be, and I had all but confirmed the change in support had to be magical to set whatever mood he needed. 

"Where's Haarlep?" It was always the first I thing I looked for, now. The length of Haarlep's leash (metaphorical or very very literal) gave a sense of Raphael's mood. I hadn't seen him that morning, so I had assumed a short chain.

"He's been doing such a good job at keeping you attended, I thought I'd test him on another potential client." He adjusted in his chair primly, chin tilting up. I hated that he kept doing this. He was the one who had directly sent Haarlep to my room a handful of times, yet he seemed so pissed off about it. I wished he would make up his mind. 

"You've made the acquaintance of a wizard named Lorroakan, if I'm not mistaken," he said. "Proprietor of Sorcerer's Sundries." 

"Yeah," I replied. "He's an asshole." I should have killed him. Or let Aylin do it. I managed to convince him I had killed the Nightsong myself to get him off her trail, but after that I let the whole thing drop. There were too many other, more dire things to attend to. She had disappeared after the battle, at least. 

Raphael approved my assessment with a smirk. 

"Yes, I got the same impression. The tower survived the attack, but it took a bit of damage. I offered him some funds to make some repairs. In like exchange, of course." 

I tsked at him. 

"He's not going to part with any of his toys or books."

"Simply an opening volley. A little knock on the door." He wrapped his fingers on the table. "Which is why I'm curious what your read on him was. What does he want more than anything?"

"Immortality," I answered easily. It fueled his obsession with the Nightsong.

"That won't do, at all, of course. Maybe if he was a bit more…malleable…I'd be willing to extend him an offer of that nature. But as he is, no. I think not."

"Can you do that? Make someone immortal?" 

"After a fashion, and for the right price." He grinned through the words, and I knew that was as much information as I wanted about that. I didn't care to imagine whatever catch came with the immortality offered by a devil's deal. "Is that something you might find an interest in?"

I couldn't even answer with the laugh that rolled out of me.

"I've got five-hundred more years on me, and I'm already ready to call it quits, most days. I can't imagine having to trudge through this shit forever."  

"Poor little thing." Raphael made one of his flourishing gestures, and my chair slid around the table toward him. He ran his fingers through my hair and tucked them into the loose bun at the back. "Is life really so difficult?" He tugged on the ribbon that was holding my hair and it all flowed free. I rolled my cheek into his palm. 

"Some of us have real problems, Raphael," I clucked. His hand tightened in my hair, pulling at my scalp. As he stood, he pulled my head back, trapping me with my neck stretched out to him, eyes locked on him by force. He dipped his body until his lips were near my ear.

"Oh, my problems are about to be very real for you, if you don't behave."

I choked through my words, but I felt the grin form on my face. As much as he threatened and cajoled, I wasn't dead until he got what he wanted from me.

"Testy. You frustrated without your toy around?" I regretted it the instant I said it, the sudden blankness of his gaze worse than his more classic, irritated expression. 

He lifted me from the chair and dragged me across the room by my hair right at the base of my scalp. I landed on the bed in half a heap, head snapping forward from the force of Raphael releasing me. When I looked back up at him, he had shifted into his more human shape. I still hadn't figured out the reasoning for which form he preferred, but I didn't like that he had taken the energy to shift at all. He moved onto the bed, knee on either side of me. I felt myself scrambling backward without considering the actual escape route was in the exact opposite direction. Raphael followed, crawling to keep up with me until we reached the center of the bed. 

"Where do you think you're going, darling dearest?" He grabbed my wrists to pull me closer. "You and I both know this is where you want to be. Where you've always wanted to be."

"And where's that?" I snapped back, trying to pull my wrists away. The thin line of his mouth cracked into a wry grin. 

"A place where you don't have to make any decisions. Where someone else, where I, control everything. Where all you have to do is lay back and accept what I give you." He released my wrists, and I dropped back to the bed unceremoniously. "Now I am a reasonable man who prefers a sense of structure. Of order in the chaos. But I always get what I want in the end. The only choice you have, at the moment, is how difficult you want to make it for yourself." 

"Oh, spare me," I said. His hand twitched back as though he wanted to strike me, and I leveled one of those same gazes at him that he kept trying to tear me down with. 

"I came here of my own accord, and I've been staying voluntarily, waiting to find out what you actually want from me. I have jumped and danced at every summon, no matter how dumb it ends up being. I have been your perfect little confidant, and you can't handle a little sass? A little backtalk? Or is it that you can't stand I'm not afraid of you? That you don't have me, yet?" I was panting, waiting for Raphael to react. To do anything but hover over me. He needed to do something. "If you want to be fucking Archdevil Jackass, Prince of the Nine Hells, you'll have to grow a thicker skin than that." 

Finally, he did something. He dropped down to his elbows, bringing his body down on top of mine, line on line, angle on angle with my own. He pecked the side of my mouth. Gently. Delicate. His lips were rough but damp. 

"What are you trying to dose me with?" I asked. Raphael clucked. 

"So suspicious."

"Do you blame me?"

"Not at all," Raphael smirked. "I would expect it." He kissed me again, this time capturing my lips and going deeper, tip of his tongue trailing along my bottom lip. "But no. This is all just me…and you…" The next kiss was ravenous. 

His hands cupped my jaw, forcing me to accept every undulating press of his lips against me. The knees locked around my hips would have kept me from wriggling free if I really wanted to. Instead, my hands found the back for Raphael's head, and I wound my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. I didn't pull like he had, but he didn't like it nonetheless. He pulled back sharply, breaking the kiss with a quick nip on my bottom lip. He settled his body lower across my hips, sitting back on my thighs. For a long moment, he hovered his fingers over the top button of my vest, his face moving through a bunch of micro-emotions like he was considering something. 

"No no," he muttered. "You'd enjoy too much, and I don't want to lose the buttons. I have something better." He rolled sideways off me, pulling me up by the collar as he went. I almost lost my footing as I was yanked up off the bed, but I stayed standing as I skidded over the marble floor. 

"Undress." The command reverberated soft and deep through the chamber. 

"Excuse me?" I had heard him clearly, but I was struggling to comprehend. 

"I could hold you down and do it myself, but then it wouldn't be a real choice, now would it? Now, you can either do as I ask, or not. Which will you do?"

"What if I don't do as you say?" 

"Then you're more than free to go back to your room. Leave for the material plane, for all I care. You were never a prisoner." He said the words, and they almost felt like the truth. He probably would let me go. For now. I wasn't ready to test it, yet. 

I undid the first button on the vest, slowly moving down to the next one. There were only ten of them, and my vest fell to the floor with a clank. Raphael slightly jolted with the sound. He was so concerned about his buttons, I wish I had thrown it down harder. The line of his body tensed again as I moved on to my shirt. I pulled the threading out from the eyelets one by one until the entire front of my shirt was open down to below my chest, exposing the short stays underneath. I pulled my shirt up over my head, letting the shirt fall on top of the vest. Raphael watched every movement closely, studying me. His hand twitched on his thigh as though he wanted to reach for me again, but he held firm. 

Four more buttons on my fly, and my pants were down, pooled around my ankles. I stepped out of them and pushed them away. I hadn't taken to wearing hard-soled shoes around the house, and my slippers were back at the table. I still had stockings, though, tied at mid-thigh. Raphael's eyes shot down to them immediately, and his lips parted ever so slightly. He dug his hand into the front of the stays and dragged me forward until I was tucked between his knees. 

"Now this…this is an outfit I think I might begin to insist on." His face dropped to the cleft of my breasts and he worked slowly upward along the span of my chest. His nose and lips traced the line of my clavicle, teeth scraping against my skin. One hand came up on the other side of my neck and his mouth worked in small kisses up the other side, over the edge of my jaw. He teased a kiss at my lips, but pulled back, breath touching mine. 

"I'm not a doll for you to dress up," I said into the tiny space between us. He undid the top strap of three on the stays.

"Yet you wear everything I give you." The second strap slipped free with a soft pop. 

"You have good taste," I replied. 

A third click and the stays loosened, letting my breasts fall free. He rolled the stays off my back, but folded the garment and set it on the bench on the end of the bed instead of throwing it down with the others. He turned me sharply, pulling me tight against his body, legs spread around my hips again. Raphael's face dug into my back and I felt the sharp graze of his teeth along my spine. A hand swept around and dipped past the waistband of my undershorts and into my cleft. He didn't touch me, though, just tracing the outline of it, skin prickling under his touch.

By the time he touched a pad of his finger to my clit, I had started growing wet and tense. Every touch was light, teasing, and I jumped with each flick. He slid down and sunk into my entrance, and I gasped with the friction. I arched my back in response, breast falling right into his other waiting hand. He pinched my nipple…hard…enough that the pleasure turned to pain.

"Ow," I gasped. And he let go. I didn't expect it, but he did. After a moment, though, he returned to pinching and tweaking that same pink nub with a softer roll of his rough fingers. 

"My little mouse is so quiet," he said. "Why don't you raise your voice a little. Let me hear how much you enjoy it." He slid two fingers inside this time. On the third, a choked squeak emerged, breathy and short. 

"There we go," he cooed into the curve of my spine. His hands lifted to my shoulders and he pushed me down to my knees, half turning in a sprawl. His hands worked quickly on his doublet then barely touched his shirt before they were laid neatly on the bench. Raphael was soft in the chest and stomach, his tan skin freckled and tough. He untied the top of his pants and rolled them back to reveal a half-sprung cock weeping with pre-cum. 

"Another choice I'm willing to extend." Raphael's voice lifted and bloomed dramatically while he pumped his hand over her cock slowly. "How will you take me first? Hand or mouth?" 

I considered the math. He wasn't too big for either, and my teeth would do more damage if he pulled something on me while I was servicing him. I didn't relish the idea of biting a devil's dick off, but I was willing to consider the possibility it played into my backup plan. Not touching him, in that moment, simply wasn't an option. I wanted to. Gods I wanted to touch him. Where did that come from? What was this place turning me into? 

I moved to my knees and steadied myself against the inside of his thighs with one arm. One hand wrapped around the base, and I parted my lips around the head of his cock, sucking gently at the soft flesh as it emerged from the foreskin. A glaze of pre-cum slicked across my tongue and throat as I pulled him in deeper. He was peppery. Sweat and skin tingling with the bitter warmth of whiskey. His fingers wove into my hair, and he pulled me back from the base. Then forward again. A gentle pace up and down his length as I lathed and sucked on him. I was perfectly capable of doing it myself, but if it made him happy to have that control, I was willing to abdicate it. Even as he moved me faster and faster, I kept to his rhythm, grazing the edge of one hand along the soft skin of his balls, the other hand still squeezed around the base, throat and tongue acting in tandem to encompass the entirety of him at the crest of every gentle thrust.

Then he shoved me down hard, thrusting deep into my throat, forcing me to gag. I pulled back quickly. 

"Do that again without asking, and I bite it off." I leveled a hard gaze up at him, daring him to test me on this. His hand was still in my hair, and he pulled my head sideways against his thigh. 

"Apologies, dearest. I simply grew…excited…impatient, perhaps." 

I pushed myself up using his knees, my own cracking a little as I got to my feet. 

"Then let's finish this." 

I was the one who crawled into his lap, this time, my knees spreading around his hips as I found purchase on the bed. My arms dropped softly around his shoulders and I demanded a kiss from him, pulling him up to me with a crook of my thumb under his chin. He unwound the lacing on the sides of my undershorts and they slid away neatly. I didn't wait, lifting up immediately to drop down, quivering and wet, on his waiting cock. He groaned into my mouth, wrapping his arms around my waist.

I rolled over him, chasing the feel of him inside of me, pulsing and hot. It filled me, but it wasn't enough. I needed…something…Something my body was yearning for, but I was having trouble placing. I pulled away from his mouth just enough to speak, his breath hot on my face as he panted under me. 

"Can you shift? Change form? To the other one?"

He looked up at me through half-closed eyes, tracing me through his eyelashes. The grin that cracked across his face was sharp and dangerous at the corners, barely touching the bottom of his eyes. 

"Oh. I know what you want. How lucky you are that I'm happy to give it to you."

His body didn't change anywhere I could see, but I felt the morph inside me, the pressure going in different directions, now. The ridges on his cock dragged against my insides when I lifted, pushing a gasping keen out of me. I dropped again, pressing our pelvises together to get the most out of this new shapes. 

"Gods," I found myself groaning. "Yes. Fuck." 

"Anything for my little starling. Anything you want, it's yours." He panted into the base of my neck then trailed his lips across the top of my breasts. "I'll give you anything." His hands gripped my ass to support the ever quicker, more forceful grinding I was pressing against his body. I believed him. That he'd give me anything. Rather, I believed he believed himself. That he was willing, in that moment, to part with everything in his home for me. I would see how things changed once the building ecstasy popped and dissolved. 

We weren't going to get there like this. I needed more leverage. I pushed him. He didn't let go. I growled and put all my weight against him, throwing us down on the bed. He seemed surprised but accepted the new position with ease. I bounced hard, thighs hitting my heels, Raphael's hands on my hips the whole while, this time following my pattern of lifting and dropping instead of forcing a new one. Faster, harder, I dug my fingers into his stomach, reveling in all the sensations I could rip from him. Taking what I wanted instead of waiting for him to give it. 

I crunched forward, resting my forehead against his chest, supporting myself on my elbows. Raphael's hands were firm on my back. Then they started to grip tighter. 

"Yes," he muttered low in his throat, the sound carrying through his chest. "Fire of my heart, brings us both to ecstasy." His nails dug into my flesh as he reached climax, and I felt him swelter and pulse inside me. I tilted my head up and pressed my hand to his neck lightly. 

"Don't fucking move," I snapped at him. 

I moved a hand down to find my clitoris in the tight space between our bodies. I circled and flicked quickly, pulsing my hips fast on the thankfully still-hard cock inside me. When I came with a tight squeal, it was filled with the scent of him. Hellfire and rum. I rested for a moment in that same position, letting my legs recover for a moment. Then I rolled off him, the feel of his cock sending one last shivering sensation up me. I rested with my knees up, thighs together, stretching my hips back into their preferred state. The tandem gasping and panting echoed through the room for a minute as the only sound.

"Perhaps Lorroakan can be fucked into submission," Raphael said quietly. I processed this statement. I heard the conversation with Haarlep play back in my head about the nature of Raphael's pillow talk. I laughed. Big and deep. Shaking my body down to the toes.

"You can always try it," I giggled. He sat up, legs off the bed. He wiped himself off with the edge of his sheets then re-buttoned his pants. 

"With that performance, I would send you after him."

"Hmph. I'm not Haarlep. I only have a few of those in me. Not gonna waste one on him. Really should just kill him if he's that much of an issue. I saw the stuff to conjure up some myrmidons up there in his tower, but if you let me borrow a couple orthons I could probably do it. Yurgir's wandering around here, right? He packed a punch when I killed him the first time." Raphael had turned about halfway through my string of thoughts, and now he watched me with interest, head tilted. 

"See this--" he pointed at me "--this is why I want you. Vicious. Practical." He stood and eased down the bed. He rested his hands on my knees. "Take a bath, pull something comfortable from the closet, then meet me in the dining hall. We're going up for a stroll, and I want to run some ideas past you." He grabbed his shirt from the bench and started putting it on as he left the room. 

The strongest part of his scent left with him, but the wisp and dregs of it surrounded me as I rolled a little on the mattresses. I was starting to dig myself too deep into this hole. But at least I had a little something to help me climb out of it. 

The implications from Haarlep and Korilla were starting to come together with my own experience. Whether sexually or logistically, he didn't like actually putting in the effort himself. He preferred, strongly, to delegate. To make someone else do it while he reaped the rewards.

Whatever his motions to the contrary, he needed me. Far more than I needed him. I could use that.

[uncannychange]

Bob's, Barbershop, and Men's Total Renovation Emporium.

The only such place where you can leave with more hair than you came in with.

Along with other changes.

Quite remarkably major changes

Buts how? And why?

The answer came about when due to the Pandemic where was a major female fashion model shortage.

It seemed that The Houses just could not find the sort of girls they wanted.

“Bob” had an answer, a technology that would reshape a body into any form they set for it.

Only, due to the need for that body to have a Y chromosome it only worked on men.

So, Bob’s your uncle (so to speak) a conclusion was come to.

Only where to get that “raw material” for reworking? At the time there was a significant and in many cases chronic unemployment problem.

The solution, an order from the fashion industry saying what they need, the right men our found and before you know it they are ready to start their walk down the catwalk and pose for the cameras.

Sure, this is more than tough stressful for the guys who find themselves doll, but hey!

The pay is great, so they can afford apartments and cars, and the best Smartphones.

At least until around the age of 25 (if they last that long) at that time they can, I don’t know, design handbags, find a Reality Show to drama on, or perhaps find a Sugar Daddy.

“Still a shortage?” read Carl (work name Carminia), traveling by subway between gigs, knowing that this meant that soon even more of his long out-of-work Bros would be joining her as Sisters.

“And competing with me for jobs! The tramps!”

Tim and Jake, still dizzy from the special “aftershave” they use in Bob’s, waiting to be picked up by the large on-line clothing emporium who had “requested” a couple of new models just like them for their ads.

Stand tough, and stand tall girls, the world is your oyster, wear the pearls well.

[aalissy]

Modeling

Day 8 is doneee!! It’s a short, fluffy lil chapter for today as per usual haha. I hope you like it! Lemme know what you think :)

AO3

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the city of Paris, Adrien Agreste, the famous teenage model and son of renowned fashion designer Gabriel Agreste, found himself in an unexpected situation. He was about to don the latest creation from his father's atelier, but this time, it wasn't for a high-end fashion show or a glossy magazine spread. No, this time, Adrien was modeling for none other than his classmate and best friend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

She had just gotten an internship with a high-end designer and had been so proud of herself that he couldn’t help but feel just as pleased with her work. Even if a small corner of his mind was displeased that she was even more busy than usual. 

But when Marinette had come to him the other day, an adorable pink flush to her cheeks as she asked him if he’d be willing to model one of her designs, of course, he said yes. 

He had always admired her talent for fashion design. Her unique sense of style, combined with her creativity and attention to detail had earned her a reputation as one of the most promising young designers in Paris. So, he couldn't resist the opportunity to support her and see her work come to life on the runway.

“An opportunity to model a Marinette original. How could I say no?” He had winked, feeling a slight sense of satisfaction at watching her pink flush turn just a shade darker.

As Adrien slipped into the first outfit that Marinette had designed, he was struck by the precision and craftsmanship of the garment. The attention to detail was remarkable, with every stitch and seam carefully executed to create a stunning piece of artwork. Adrien couldn't help but marvel at Marinette's talent as he adjusted the collar of the jacket.

As the lights dimmed and the music began to play, Adrien stepped onto the runway, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. He had walked countless runways before, but this was different. This time, he was showcasing Marinette's designs, and he was determined to do them justice. After all, this was her first big show. He had to make certain that this was his best show yet!

As he strutted down the catwalk, Adrien could feel the eyes of the audience on him, and he knew that Marinette's collection was a hit. The gasps and whispers of admiration from the crowd confirmed what he had known all along, that Marinette had created something truly special.

With each outfit change, Adrien was amazed by the range and versatility of Marinette's collection. From chic and sophisticated evening suits to funky and bold streetwear, her designs were a reflection of her own unique style and vision. He could see her personality shining through in every piece, and it made him admire her even more.

Throughout the show, Adrien couldn't help but steal glances at Marinette backstage. She was a flurry of activity, adjusting hems, pinning fabric, and giving last-minute instructions to the models. Her passion and dedication to her craft were evident in every move she made, and Adrien found himself falling even more in awe of her talent.

As he got dressed for the final look of the night, he couldn't contain his emotions. He clapped enthusiastically, along with the rest of the audience, as Marinette took her bow. Her smile was radiant, and he couldn't help but be utterly captivated by her beauty and grace.

After the show, Adrien rushed backstage to congratulate Marinette. She was surrounded by well-wishers, but when she spotted Adrien, her face lit up with delight. She approached him, and Adrien found himself at a loss for words, surprised to find himself turning pink as she gazed up at him with a pair of sparkling sapphire eyes.

"Adrien, thank you so much for modeling for me," Marinette said, her voice filled with gratitude. "You were amazing out there, and I couldn't have asked for a better muse."

Adrien scratched the back of his neck, feeling a surge of pride at Marinette's compliment. "It was my pleasure," he managed to say, finally finding his voice. "Your designs are incredible, Marinette. You're truly talented."

Marinette's cheeks reddened at Adrien's words, and she looked down bashfully. "Thank you," she murmured. "Coming from you, that really means a lot.”

Putting his hands on her shoulders, he squeezed them gently, causing her to look back at him. “I mean it, Marinette. You did such a great job tonight. All of Paris was looking at your designs. Someday soon you might even surpass my father.”

She giggled, her face lighting up with amusement. “You should watch yourself, then, Agreste. I might be putting you out of business.”

He threw his head back in a loud laugh. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Adrien then leaned in to whisper in her ear, “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Oh, but don’t worry,” Marinette said after he moved back with a wink. “You’ll still have a job as my most treasured model.”

“I can’t wait,” Adrien said, a beam growing on his face as he imagined days of working with Marinette instead of his father. That would be the dream. 

Her mouth opened to say something else, but before she could, a voice frantically called her over. “Marinette, there’s someone who wants to talk with you!”

She winced, her gaze darting back and forth between the two of them before she sighed sadly. “I’m sorry, Adrien. That’s my boss. I have to go. I’ll see you in class tomorrow though, right?”

“Of course.” He nodded, watching with fondness as she gave him a grateful smile before moving over to talk with her fellow co-workers. It was absolutely awe-inspiring how motivated she could get. It honestly reminded him of a certain superheroine...

Stepping out of the building, Adrien shivered slightly as the moon slowly rose over the Parisian skyline. Luckily, his bodyguard was waiting outside and he got to climb into the limo before he could get too cold. 

Leaning his head against the window, his thoughts drifted back to Marinette once again. He couldn’t wait to see her again tomorrow. Hopefully, now that the last day of her internship had finally concluded, they would be able to hang out with each other more. 

Maybe... maybe he could take her to go get Andre’s ice cream this weekend. Yeah, that sounded really nice. With a plan settled in his mind, he straightened up, a warm, fuzzy feeling settling deep within his chest at the thought of this weekend.

[travelblog]

Legendary artist Faith Ringgold designed fifty-two individual smalti glass mosaics across four mezzanine walls at the Civic Center/Grand Station in Los Angeles. Each is a personification of creativity, performance, sports and fashion illustrated in Ringgold’s signature style of line drawing a simplified figure in a solid, color-block background. Images include models walking the catwalk to boxers, baseball players and surfers frozen in the moment of their athletic skill, along with musicians playing and artists making their mark. The glass mosaic panels were created by the artisans at Mosaika Art & Design studio in Montreal, Canada.

[influencermagazineuk]

Anna Wintour walks into our interview room with her signature dark glasses. For three decades, Wintour has been the power behind the throne at Vogue, which she has edited in chief since 1988, and she still exudes the mystery that has defined her long career in fashion. The setting for our conversation is the immersive exhibition VOGUE: Inventing the Runway, a project she conceptualized to celebrate the history and evolution of the catwalk. As we speak in the dimly lit space surrounded by expansive digital screens, Wintour's ever-present sunglasses remain. I hesitantly ask her about their purpose. "They help me see and they help me not see," she says cryptically. They help me be seen and not be seen. They are a prop, I would say." This sense of duality—both visible and mysterious—is characteristic, in fact, of the figure of Wintour herself: she has been at the center of the fashion world yet is simultaneously elusive. UKinUSA, CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons The exhibition space, this time London's Lightroom, is a fully digital, immersive environment using leading-edge digital projections. There have been exhibitions celebrating everyone from David Hockney to Tom Hanks. But it now provides a front-row seat to some of the most momentous fashion shows in history. Of course, after decades of attendance at thousands of shows, it is easy to grow desensitized. And for many visitors, though, this is their first real exposure to a fashion show. She tried very hard to make sure they felt what these events are all about. As a long-reigning queen of the fashion world, Wintour’s own front-row seat has been a literal one for decades. Often perched on a delicate gold chair, she is a permanent fixture at every major show. Her punctuality is legendary. “I’m horribly punctual, usually early,” she admits. This characteristic once earned her the gratitude of an audience when she admonished designer Marc Jacobs for a notoriously late show. "We all yelled at him so much after that, the next season, he started not just on time but five minutes early," she remembers with a grin. Wintour's keen eye for detail and deep respect for tradition shine through in her work. The Vogue exhibition traces the evolution of fashion through vivid chapters narrated by Cate Blanchett. It features iconic moments, from black-and-white footage of early couture salons to Pharrell Williams' 2023 debut for Louis Vuitton—a pop-culture event streamed to a billion viewers worldwide. Wintour reflects on the shift from exclusivity to inclusivity in fashion. "Now everyone can come to the party, which is as it should be," she says. Revisited here are some of the most extraordinary moments in fashion history - for instance, Karl Lagerfeld's 2017 Chanel show featuring a space-themed set with a rocket launch. "It was extraordinary. and you couldn't wait to see what he was going to come up with next," Wintour shares. The other groundbreaking moment, Lagerfeld's 2007 Fendi show where models strutted along the Great Wall of China, embodies that bold creativity that defines haute couture. For insiders, Wintour's influence extends far beyond magazine pages. She has been a champion of blending fashion with celebrity culture, evident in her orchestration of the annual Met Gala. The star-studded event, held on the first Monday of May, has become a global spectacle of outrageous fashion and A-list appearances. For the many outside the world of fashion, Wintour is still Miranda Priestly, the fictional character of the film The Devil Wears Prada. The actress who portrayed her, Meryl Streep, has immortalized this very realistic combination of steely temperament and sharp wit. She'll leave it to everyone to decide whether there's an iota of truth to such comparisons. When asked if her public persona feels like a role she must play, she responds simply, “I don’t really think about it. What I’m really interested in is the creative aspect of my job.” Despite her fastidiously polished public image, Wintour downplays the notion that she is invulnerable to rejection or criticism. "That is absolutely untrue. They often say no, but that's a good thing. No is a wonderful word," she comments. Her ability to absorb rejection has undoubtedly contributed to her success. Under Wintour's leadership, Vogue has morphed into a global powerhouse that changes effortlessly with the digital tide. In an age dominated by influencers on social media, Vogue stands alone, its power and influence owed, at least partially, to her vision. Wintour has insured the magazine stays as authoritative in style as ever while employing her instinct for what hits with audiences. Her enduring influence stems from a unique combination of exacting standards, creative vision, and adaptability. She may play coy about her personal style choices—admitting to traveling to London with only a couple of suitcases—but her commitment to presenting herself impeccably is unwavering. "It's really about respect in how you present yourself," she explains. As our conversation wraps, it's clear that Anna Wintour is much more than the sum of her public persona. Behind the sunglasses and the polished exterior lies a woman deeply committed to her craft, unafraid of change, and always looking ahead. While her legacy is firmly rooted in fashion history, her gaze remains fixed on the future. Read the full article

[sternrakestudio]

A Walk in the Park

On 3 October, 1990, Germans celebrated their first Unity Day, when East Germany formally joined West Germany, a year after the fall of the Berlin Wall.

I didn’t join in the celebrations.  Instead, I was sleeping-off jet-lag from my trans-Atlantic flight.  I would spend the next four years in Germany as a member of the US military.  I wish I could say it was a wonderful experience, but I was still married to my toxic ex-wife.  She came over a couple months later, after I secured an apartment about 10 miles east of Stuttgart.

Shortly after her arrival, my unit was activated to deploy for Operation Desert Shield, which turned into Operation Desert Storm in February, 1991.  While most guys were often sad at being far from home, I was strangely content to be away.

Once I returned, I discovered why.  My absence hadn’t detoxed my ex’s personality.  Our European Tour turned out to be a turning point for me.  I realized no matter where we‘d go, or live, even throughout a great assignment like Germany, she’d still remain a toxic b*tch.

One sure way to increase her toxicity level was for her to see me having a pleasant conversation with another woman.  Any woman.  Even with my mom, or my sisters.

She had a special hatred towards blonds.  She was a dour and rude brunette, who grew up with two giggly, girly-girl, blond sisters.  She was always puzzled and angry that her two sisters could always attract a gaggle of guys.  The idea of being pleasant to others never entered her mind.

So whenever we were together, I had to deny the existence of other women, even to the level of absurdity, like in this Passing Encounter story:

One warm and sunny Sunday morning, we were walking through a city park in downtown Stuttgart.  At this time in my life, I was blessed with better than 20/20 vision.  So I saw Danger approaching from a distance away.  This particular hazard came in the form of a beautiful young woman.

She had slicked-back, short, blond hair, that was tied into a tiny ponytail.  The only things she wore was a clingy, white mini dress, matching white, high-heeled shoes, and sunglasses.

And nothing else.

Her dress was so tight, it would have exposed any panty or bra lines.

Oh, she did carry a small, matching white purse.  But that was it.

She was decked-out for a fashion show catwalk, rather than an outdoor park, even with a paved sidewalk.

A guy with a head of unruly dark hair walked beside her.  This was the only detail about him I remember, as trotted along the Woman in White’s right side, attempting to keep up with her long-legged gait.

The Woman in White had the appearance of a Euro-model: Small, pouty lips, slow deliberate walk, and a look of bored disinterest towards everyone and everything around her.  Even Mr. Tag-a-Long.

As the pair drew near, my Toxic Ex, who was standing on my left, finally noticed her.  When they passed us on our left, she snidely remarked:  “I‘d wear a dress like that, if I had a body like that girl’s.”

Me:  “What girl?”

Toxic Ex:  “The girl that just walked passed us!  Don’t tell me you didn’t see her!?”

I turned around to see the couple, safely in the distance, continuing their walk.

Me: “Uh, no.  No I didn’t”

Toxic Ex:  “You’re lying!”  (A daily accusation, but this time, she was right).

Me: “No, I’m not.” (Okay, another lie).

Toxic Ex:  “Then what were you looking at!?”

Fortunately for me, I quickly glanced to the right and spotted a family in the open field; with children chasing each other, teens tossing a frisbee, and adults sitting on a blanket.

Me:  “I was watching this family over here.”  (Lie #3).

Toxic Ex took a quick look and muttered, “Huh.”

For an entire week, my Toxic Ex regularly brought up the Woman in White, during conversations.  She hoped I’d slip-up and admit I saw her.  Fortunately for me, I maintained my self-preserving lies, and the issue finally died away.  In fact, it was the only issue she had with me that did actually disappear entirely, and ironically the only one I openly lied about.

(Note:  The AI character I created is about the most accurate image of my Passing Encounter Memories to date).

[cu1tofdionysus]

RAWRing 20's-- Inside Bella Di Pietro's bridal debut

If you are under 25, and into DePop style bundles, Sofia Coppola, coquettish gothic maximalism– AKA a lot of people–you know the designer, Izzy Di Pietro. I’ve been following her since high school, along for the ride, viewing the designer’s Instagram stories. She was a cool girl online for girls who preferred Monster High over Bratz. At that time, Di Pietro was dropping out of FIT as a sophomore and selling one of a kind reworks on Depop under the name Izzy’s world. A corset went viral on fashion Twitter. She dressed the dancers in rapper Lil Uzi Vert’s “Demon High” music video. This year,  Di Pietro is solidifying herself- revamping, from viral Izzy’s World to Bella Di Pietro, doing special occasions, prom dresses and “other stuff.”

Ushers bustle around, attendees rush to their seats. There are none left unoccupied but there are lots of veils, opera gloves, Demonias, and graphic eyeliner. We are at Tribeca Synagogue because this is Bella Di Pietro’s sold-out debut bridal show, and the designer is Jewish. The aisles are draped in red, white, pink and black: crushed velvet, tulle, lace, silk. There are models sitting on stage, their identity shrouded in veils. They don’t move or do anything during the show, just sit. The collection's theme is unclear– goth, girly, bridal. Di Pietro is an “intuitive designer,” which means no pre-production, no mood boards or themes, and leaves me to wonder what that means for the cohesion and storytelling capabilities of future collections. On the flip side, because this is Di Pietro’s platform, the audience she built, her following, her customers, she can do whatever she wants. Many members of the audience look way too young to be engaged, but are interested in the designs because she designed them. 

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Di Pietro's “M.I.L.F. flower girl”, a mom-aged model throwing petals from a woven basket as she walks down the aisle, opens the show in a cleavage-baring, champagne, floor-length slip. All of the garments live in the realm of pink, white, red and black, too. Like all of Di Pietro’s designs, the pieces are one of a kind, mostly vintage that’s been sourced and upcycled. There’s a couple, both women, one dresses as a (un) traditional bride in white, the other wears a groom-like suit reconception– white knee stockings, black hot pants, an oversized black blazer with a comically large white bow. The gem of the collection is an altered 1920’s medical corset, layered over a David’s Bridal gown, paired with blood red Pleasers. Off the shoulder, like Sleeping Beauty. A large red rosebud has been sewn onto the bodice. Crimson crystals drip down the waistline as if the bride’s heart had been ripped from her ribcage.

Some pieces feel more like reimaginations than original designs. Where is the line between redesign and original design? There is a pink ball gown number strutting the catwalk that has been embellished with strings of silver beads, pearls, and white flowers that look like they might fall out after some dancing. Many of the looks are elegant, beautiful, and unique. Some are gaudy, unstyled, and untailored, as if the show had been slung together in a fury. Because Di Pietro is a one woman show, it probably was. 

Di Pietro has her finger on the pulse. Her designs appeal to the future of brides easily by being accessible for all bodies, sustainable, and trendy. There's an element of drama and performance that I foresee being a very big bridal trend in the years to come. Big name, oldhead designers can't get into new trends, like coquette, the same way twenty-something- year old Di Pietro can. 

A lot of the models are personal friends of the designer, but the rest are Tik Tok models. One wore a strappy mismatched red thong under the sheer fabric of her skirt. For designs as grand as Di Pietro’s, you need a professional model to wear the clothes, not the other way around. I recognize one of the models as someone who trashed my friend's apartment whilst apartment sitting, stole my wedges and butterfly top out of said apartment, gave my friend’s friend chlamydia, and then tried to steal my friend's cat. That’s showbiz, baby! 

Overall, the debut was a success. Wouldn't bank on Di Pietro’s acclaim faltering anytime soon. She just released her newly annual springtime prom dress drop– dresses range from $450– 1000 and are almost gone.

[forixcommerce]

5 tips to use e-commerce optimization for fashion e-commerce

It is a known fact that e-commerce optimisation services can offer e-commerce businesses marvellous results. How does e-commerce optimization work for fashion e-commerce? To put it into perspective, the fashion ecommerce industry is one of the fastest-growing online industries with the global fashion ecommerce market value being $821 billion.

That being said, this industry is very competitive. Thus, you should ensure that your e-commerce website Is equipped to handle the needs of customers and offer them something out of the ordinary but relevant.

5 ways in which e-commerce optimization helps your fashion e-commerce website:

Ecommerce optimization services are particularly specific for fashion brands. Let’s explore these five ways where fashion websites can benefit from ecommerce optimization.

Innovative Presentation of Products

To combat your customer’s fear of not being able to feel the texture of your fabrics you should incorporate real-life experiences as closely as you can.

How so? You can make use of Innovative visualisation methods such as 360-degree product images, a catwalk to show customers how clothing might look like walking, and a zoom-in option for customers to see the texture of the fabrics, along with fine cuts, pockets and patterns.

2.   Presence of Care and Handling Sections

      Customers appreciate when fashion e-commerce websites put information regarding the care of fabrics on their websites. This allows customers to retain the quality of their favourite clothing from your website for a prolonged period.

You can choose to add information such as how to clean it, how to iron it or store it, or if it's waterproof.

3.   Information regarding fit and features

Not all clothing types suit every person out there and e-commerce websites should try to convey how their clothing might look to people with different build and heights. You can choose to put the model's height on the product information pages so that customers can compare their height to the models to visualise how a dress might look.

Make sure to add sufficient information regarding the clothing be it model height, sleeve length, garment length, pockets and collars and the features of the fabrics.

4.   Use of product stories

Making use of storytelling to convey a story around the product is one of the best strategies that e-commerce websites can use to keep the attention of their customers.

Human beings are fundamentally storytelling beings. Thus, you can tell your customers about the idea behind clothing or how the fabric used to make the clothing was sourced.

5.   Easy availability of size guides

When it comes to online shopping the most common problem that customers face is size issues. Thus, you should consider displaying as much information as you can regarding the sizes of your clothing. Additionally, you can also present all forms of sizes used around the globe be it UK size, US size or Europe. This way your customers would easily be able to choose the right clothing hassle-free.

In case you require more assistance with your optimization efforts you can choose to seek help from reputed ecommerce optimization services agencies.

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