Where: The Brooklyn Museum
Status: Closed ( @intxication )
It’s an odd dichotomy- the most fun he’s had in ages, and a stressful undercurrent of saying and doing the right things. But at least he feels good- confident in something so tailored and extravagant. He’s being careful with his alcohol for multiple reasons, but mostly to avoid any sloppy conversations or slipped out secrets. Asa always feels like he’s holding something in, like his chest is filled with air he needs to expel. A held breath that never leaves him. He sees Mathias and feels himself relax a tiny bit as he shifts through a few bodies.
“I really hope this outfit stays clean.” He points to the other’s lovely suit. It’s been like stepping into another world, seeing so many of the people he works with dressed so finely. Normally his colleague is covered in blood with a somewhat peppy look in his eyes even when Asa has to sew him up. “Are you doing alright? Have you seen... anyone else? From work?” He asks carefully. He still isn’t sure how Mathias feels about him- mostly because of their odd conversations outside of his medical office. But regardless, his job is to keep them all alive, and that includes the most prone-to-injury one.
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MARS GAFFNEY at the Brooklyn Museum.
Something satin, something dark. Something cerulean blue- with a hint of death and darkness. Mars felt a kinship between his clothing and the ferryman Charon, or perhaps the River Styx itself- embodying the souls ported to their resting place. Perhaps it's the myth of swimming in the river Styx, or the oaths made by its borders. It tells of unbreakable bonds and unbreakable spirits. Mars likes that quite a bit.
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the holidays are coming up and with them, a lot of annual wayne functions that bruce wants NO part in AND YET……
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“ shit , ” her voice is quiet as she frantically moves through things in her clutch. her ‘ smoking ’ habit wasn’t exactly a secret to anyone that knew her , although her habit didn’t happen often , only when she found herself stressed or overwhelmed. cami never did well at events , which was a large reason why she hadn’t wanted to attend. the lotion was already taking the scent from her fingertips , although her breath needed something to cover up the scent of the joint she inhaled outside. reaching her arm out , she stops the first person she sees , although keeping them a distance away so they wouldn’t smell her breath ( which was quite unrealistic ). “ do you happen to have a mint ? or even gum ? it’s literally the only thing i forgot to bring with me , ” she asks , biting at her lower lip. [ + @nepofmstarters ]
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Location: Masquerade Gala, Paradise Point
Starter for: @isaiahwarren
"That's great, thank you." With her earpiece set up and the pack clipped onto the back of her dress, Lia carefully manoeuvred the wire around her hair and her ear, resting it so it dangled over her ear. As the sound guys left her alone in the space behind the stage, Lia breathed out a deep sigh, leaning back against the wall. Being on stage was something to her that had become as familiar to her as going to buy milk over the years but with a gala full of people from her hometown and this being the first performance since her life had imploded in the media, the nerves were setting in.
Reaching for her water bottle, she took a few small sips, only then noticing just how much her hands were shaking. "Just disassociate, breathe and disassociate." Repeating the mantra a couple of times, she tried to take her own advice to settle the nerves. As the curtain moved, alerting her to someone on the other side, Lia stood up a little straighter. "I'm not late on am I? Can I just have a couple of minutes?"
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Kylie Minogue stole the show in a half-and-half white and pink dress at the amfAR Gala in São Paulo, April 2015
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@8blud sent: “ don’t give me that look, you know what i mean. ”
man had been the debut creation myth: take this flesh and make something real. except, man had never been a creator at all if it were not merely some vein of destruction. man that cursed himself with knowledge and punished everyone else for it. man that punished himself for it. even so, there's a certain kinship in knowing that you can still share something with those you could learn to hate. perhaps odd-tempers could settle for a card game, after all fifty dollars was fifty dollars. "you're an ass, that's all that means." it's cynical, some shallow attempt made to disrupt his poker face. card drawn from a halfed deck, "go fish."
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he slips into high society with all the ease of a snake slithering through the grass. why wouldn't he? he's an esteemed lawyer from across the pond and oh, the trophy wives simply adored the accent! the demure, gentlemanly demeanor was so exotic to the boisterous americans.
thomas snuck away from a boring conversation that had gone on far too long by excusing himself to get another drink from the bar. he spots a man; familiar to him, through his close-watching of the mingling crowds. the man who attracted other like moths to a flame. "dr. whitly, is it?" a shy smile graces his face. "new york's best surgeon?"
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Pittsburgh Penguins gala
Therr were events such as Pens and Plates with a waiter Sidney Crosby, it is about southern vibe of New Orleans now and so other charity event. New photo shoot and time to dress up for Pens wags.
We have a bug of flat cap spread like a plague and transgender borrow the fur from each other. Sartre wore nonstop one fugly pink one sitting in the bar. On the barstool.
Organised by Pens Foundation.
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Where: The Brooklyn Museum
Status: Closed ( @unwrtnwishes )
It’s a night of schmoozing, of bumping elbows and learning names and showing exactly how charming he can be. Marshall Gaffney, Professional Architect and West Manhattan Brotherhood Region Manager is a chameleon in crowds- especially those with deep pockets and snorting laughs. The type of big-wigs who ride their yachts to their third summer home and still only donate a few thousand dollars to the charity events. He knows them well, and he’s prepared to drop his business card in every single pasty hand he can.
But first, a drink or two. Nothing to hard tonight, at least not for now. The man’s fondness for scotch and gin has him eyeing the bottles behind the bar for an extended moment, but he sticks with a hard cider for now, seeing it on tap. Glorified apple juice, but with so many familiar faces (and not always the friendly ones) about, he doesn’t want to be anything but on his A game. The man is tall, decked out in blue and black brocade and a trailing cape over one shoulder. But he’s enticed by someone in a startlingly different color, seeing the beautiful soft pink and floral accoutrements on a shorter woman beside him. “Absolutely stunning, love.” He tells her casually as he reaches out for the drink with a nod to the bartender. “I know my Greek gods as well as the next bloke, but I feel a bit weird trying to guess.” He murmurs, taking a sip of the cider with a slight wince. Yeah, bit too sweet for his liking but it’ll do. “But, if y’don’t mind me saying so... you look as beautiful as Aphrodite.”
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Katharine McPhee at the David Foster Foundation gala 'A Night On Broadway' in Toronto, Canada on 7th May 2022
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