#fantasy tweed dress

[modadivas]

Lyna Khoudri

Celebrities wore Chanel at the Chanel Cruise 2022/23 show Friend of the House, wore a pink fantasy tweed dress, look 3, with blue, red and pink embroidered denim jacket, look 5, from the Coco Beach 2022 collection. Chanel bag and shoes. Chanel Make Up.

#Lyna Khoudri #Chanel Make Up #Chanel bag #fantasy tweed dress #Chanel Cruise #Friend

[angelisverba]

praise

in which y/n notices something isn't quite right with her professor, and harry loves chasing this little bunny

word count: 5.5k

pairing: vamp!h and y/n (but really it's more like professor!h with a side of vampire)

warnings: this fic contains graphic depictions of sex and blood.

author's note: happy late halloween!

When y/n was little, her mother always told her to stay inside on Halloween.

She never got to go trick-o-treating like the other kids because of this, not until she was old enough to pay for her own costume, but by that time it was too late because trick-o-treating turned into bar hopping and candy turned into drinks. She took part in these activities for as long as it took for her to figure out that she didn't like alcohol or big crowds or dressing up.

Also by that time, many of the holidays took place around the time that she was stressing about papers and exams and midterms and other deadlines a college students faces around the end of the semester. She was a dedicated, busy little bee with few friends that knew her enough to know that when she's focused, theres no getting her to come out for anything, so they didn't even extend invites.

Which is why she finds herself inside, at the library, on Halloween night. She has a little ear worm of Linus writing his letter to the great pumpkin running around in her brain, but that's as far as her spooky spirit goes. The rest of it is consumed in her paper about sublime notions of nature in the latest gothic novel assigned by her literature professor, Mr. Styles.

Had it been any other teacher, she wouldn't have lingered so much on grammar, word choice, or reading her paper over and over again so that her ideas were clear and concise, but... but there was something about him. She can't really but her finger on it, but a big part of it is fear. Intimidation. He's so... commanding in the way that he carries himself. Almost menancing, his figure carrying the threat of punishment.

He walked into the lecture hall everyday dressed like a model from a vintage academia magazine. Tweed bottoms. Button up shirts. Loafers. Sleek black shoes. A pristine silver watch on his wrist. A golden chain that twinkled on his neck and disappeared into the collars of his shirts like a shooting star. Slicked back chocolate brown hair from which a single curl sometimes escaped and swayed on his forehead like the hooked tail of a monkey. Tailored pants that accentuated the litheness of his hips perfectly so, making her wonder if he had them altered to fit him exactly. A badge on a simple, black attachment pinned on his hip spelled his name underneath a coyly smirking ID picture of his face; Harry Styles. 

So y/n had a little crush.

A silly little bundle of love-misted roses perched in her heart with a ribbon and a name tag that had her English professor’s name on it. 

She tried to tell herself that it was a school girl’s crush (it literally was), but it was hard to keep her daydreams cemented underneath the rounded realm of reality when her heart kept reading into every single little interaction she had with him, knowing that all her fantasies would only ever exist in her dreams because he was an employee. He was older than her. He would never be interested in a girl, a student, like her. His serious disposition did nothing to quell her. 

In fact, it almost egged her on. The perfectionist in her wanted to be perfect for him, so be praised by him for her hard work. She wanted so badly to be his teacher's pet that it reflected in her work ethic. Every paper she turned in was better than her last, she paid rapt attention in class, took the most intricate care in her notes. She always looked her best on the days she had his class- black ballet flats with black skirts, frilly socks, cardigans and collared blouses- ever the neat student. She's every professor's wet dream, she knows this.

Yet, the approval and validation that she craved. No, needed. The validation she needed from him was never given to her, no matter how hard she worked. The notes on her paper were always asking for more, she could do better, she could be more clear, she wasn't quite*getting it. And he always left a note that she should see him in his office hours.

But she couldn't.

Y/n was sure that she would spontaneously combust is she was in an enclosed one-on-one space with him. Which was funny because many of the female students fought for that time with him. One time she heard a few girls in her class say that they tried to call him by his first name and he told them that "it was Professor Styles or Sir to them". Just listening to it second hand was enough to have her squirming. The though it, to have his striking green eyes on only her, his gravely, accented voice directed at her. It was an intoxicating though.

She could imagine it.

He would sit on the other side of his desk in that suave way of his, ankle crossed at his knee, one hand resting on the arm of his chair while the other props his chin up as his finger taps against his sharp cheekbone. He would watch her with an unwavering, predatory gaze, like he's waiting for her to make a mistake to step in and correct her. Y/n would sit in the seat across from him, her hands under her thighs to keep from fidgeting, her lips wet with her spit from how much she'd chew on them, her eyes unfocused and struggling to keep contact with him. The silence in the room would probably be filled with her 'umm's and 'like'. She'd be so nervous, and he would see right through her, and all her hard work would be diminished to nothing.

And then she would probably cry and Professor Styles doesn't really look like the type to console his students, so y/n would just embarrass herself.

So she settles for putting her all into her work, tweaking what he's made notes on from previous papers, and hoping that it's enough, that one of these days she'll she exclamation points at the end of praise instead of at the end of 'explain this'.

With a weepy, overwhelmed sigh, y/n rubbed her fists into her eyes and ran words over and over again in her head. She was the last one in the library, the light from the lamp at her desk was the only source of illumination in her little study corner. This late into the semester the school didn't close libraries, opting to not get in the way of students and their work. It was nearing midnight, and she was getting tired, but this paper was due in two days and she wanted at least one to edit it.

A little delirious from lack of sleep and anger from how difficult this was all turning out to be, y/n blinked back tears. She was a little cold and she was hungry. But she was not going to leave until this paper was finished.

She would however close her eyes, just for a little while. Y/n put her head down on the desk, telling herself that she would only rest her eyes for a few minutes, that she was not going to fall asleep.

But like every college student that snoozes their alarm twenty million times because they're just going to rest their eyes for a few more minutes, she falls asleep.

She startles awake in the dark at the sound of a chair scraping against the floor.

When she jerks upright, Professor Styles is sitting across from her, reading her paper.

***

Harry is so fucking hungry, and he's looking for a snack. Maybe even a meal if he can get away with it.

He hasn't fed in nearly a month, and normally even two weeks is pushing it. But it was the month of October, and as the holidays neared and the parties increased, so did security and people's guard. It was extra hard to find a bite now, not the kind he liked.

Sweet, pure, and innocent. Untainted flavor.

A few days ago he managed to snag a few blood bags from the campus' blood drive center, but it wasn't enough. He craved the puncture, the warmth of a body in his arms, the fresh throb of a pulse underneath his tongue. He wanted the erotic writhing of struggle and submission against his body. Many of his kind didn't share their fondness for this part, but he loved taking care of them afterwards. Making sure they were okay, steady. Sated in the same ways he was. Being a vampire came with the ability of glamour, a bit of mind influencing, so that he was able to make the situation a little more favorable on his end.

He had decided to go for a stroll, having been caught up late in his office grading papers, when he caught a hint of something sweet and familiar in the night air.

It reminded him of one his students, y/n.

She always sat in the middle of the third row with perfect posture, listened to his lectures as if he was God. Her eyes would get mooney, and if he listened hard enough (which to him wasn't really that hard because he was a vampire, he had super human hearing) he could hear her heart beat faster in the seconds that his eyes held contact with her as he talked, delicate and quick like the wings of a hummingbird. Everything she turned in was perfect. She was smart but not pretentious in her way of writing, and something about the way she wrote reminded him about the tender inside of a wrist. Her wrist.

But Harry was mean, and he liked to tease, and he could tell that y/n was waiting. She was sitting on a precipice, hanging on to his very word, her body strung taught and stressed. She was waiting on him. He was going to make her wait until he did as he asked. He wanted one on one time with her, and until then, he wouldn't give her what she wanted.

Whether she realized it or not, she was teasing him, too. In ways that y/n probably wasn't even aware of. The way she bit her lips so they were bright with her blood right underneath the surface, the promise of her heat with every exaggerated sigh she let out as she walked out of his lecture hall. Her clothes, god they killed him.

She wore these black kitten heels once, and they drove him crazy.

Now, he knows his place as Professor, and he didn't just get this job to fuck around. He enjoyed teaching and knowing secretly that he knew first had about the things he was talking about. He loved seeing how his life was absorbed by the younger faces (not that he looked old, he would forever appear to be 23). He respected others, their will, their purpose, and only went as far as his moral compass would let him to take care of his needs.

But he was a man, and he could be brought to his knees by a pretty thing like y/n.

Harry remembers that day, how his trousers were uncomfortable and he had to spend the whole time behind his podium. How he needed to slyly inch a calculating hand to the ever-growing uncomfortable center of his groin and tug the snug fabric away from their vacuum-sealed hold on his hips. It was maddening for him, but uncomfortable for her (he thinks). She never wore them again, and he suspects they may have hurt her delicate feet if the way she kept shifting was anything to go by. 

Not that he noticed.

Harry most definitely did not notice that the tip of her toes kept tittering tenderly up and around in slow, hypnotizing circles, meant to relieve pent up tension. He most definitely did not notice that the way her frilly white socks kept sliding down the slope of her ankle with every movement. Or the tantalizing trekk of her delicate fingers against the curve of her thigh, behind her knee, and a little further where the pads of her lucky fingers dug into the soft, aching- he assumed- flesh of her calves. He didn’t fucking hold his breath and become stiller than a statue to try and to hear the sweet, breathy sighs of relief that left her parted lips. No, he did not. That would be a violation of the contract he signed upon assuming his position. It would be betraying the trust of the snarky, reluctant, port-belly head of academics that judged his ambiguous resume with reluctance.

Of course he didn’t. And he wasn’t the slightest bit disappointed that he never saw them again. 

This student of his had captured his attention this semester, almost distracting him. Her smell, from what he knows the few times he caught a whiff of it amongst all the others, was sweet, yet not overwhelmingly so. It was mellowed out and warm, and the closest thing he could compare it to from the food he had as a human, was apple pie. She was warm, sweet, honeyed, with the zest of cinnamon.

He wanted to taste her so fucking badly.

Harry doesn't know if it's because he's so hungry that he's smelling her now.

Trailing after the scent with his nose leading the way like a drooling dog, he wonders- no, he knows that he won't be able to fight the urge to taste her if it's really her he finds at the end of the line.

It gets stronger in the library, but from the looks of it, it's dark and empty. From the looks of it, but Harry knows better. He can hear better and smells better, and he knows she's in here. The swift intake of her breath rings in the silence, his ears picking up on the only human sound in the buildings. The near-silent whines that sit at the base of her throat and die before they exit through her nose.

Her hearbeat.

Calm. Steady. Alive.

It sounds like a drum, low and pounding and it thrills him.

He wants to hear it beat faster and faster, like a bunny when it's being chased. He wants to hear the even paced breaths become rapid and disorganized with heightened emotion.

He can smell her, too, the delightful aroma making his fangs itch and his loins ache. Walking further into the library, the stacks of books growing dense with sharp corners and cozy study nooks, he can trace the direct path she took to her spot- the table in the corner with the lamp still on. She has her head resting on her arms, hair haphazardly strewn across the wooden table and some papers, a pencil between her fingers still.

She probably set her head down after saying she was only gong to rest her eyes. She's probably been here for a really long time, he can hear her stomach growling. Shaking his head in disbelief, he pulls the chair back with a motion that's sure to wake her up at the same time that he pinches the paper with two fingers and begins to read.

Waking with a little gasp, y/n straightened. He could pinpoint the exact moment she became fully cognizant of what was happening because her heartbeat picked up in a way that concerned him, and she became utterly still. From the corner of his eye (Harry was reading her paper, a really good paper, and hadn't looked at her. Not even once) he could see her mouth open and close a few times, words escaping her. Y/n rolled the pencil between hands that had begin to perspire and began to chew on her bottom lip.

Internally, Harry groaned. He needed to get her to stop doing that because he was imagining things that no person is his position of power needed to be imagining and his cock was fattening against his thigh. He was hungry in more ways than one for her. A part of him wanted to mark her up like he was a dog and she was his chew toy, licking and sucking and biting on the sweetest parts of her to suckle on her blood; everywhere. The other wanted to do all of those things, and not just for her blood.

He had to get her to speak.

The paper that he held in his hands was probably the best that he was going to get from her class, or maybe all of them put together. The ideas were fresh with just the perfect amount of information from his lectured tossed in for a response to the prompt on the book they were currently discussing. But he had to keep playing his game with her, he had to see her fold like a ragdoll. He wasn't going to tell her what he truly thought about it, how it was so good, how she was such a good student, how she made him so proud. How she was a good girl.

Instead he put the paper down in front of her, crossed his arms and spread his legs in the chair to give his swollen dick some room and said, "you should go home. Have a meal. Go to sleep.”

At this her shoulders sagged, and it was like watching dominoes fall against each other to release different triggers, Her lips crumpled, her chin wobbled, and her eyes blinked away a sea of crystalline tears.

Y/n stared at him, a wet look that punched his gut at the same time that it made his gums salivate and his hips itch to thrust up against the desk like a thing in heat. He looked back at her, his head tipping slowly to the side to track her gaze as it dropped. Like a predatory, he observed her with the kind of stillness that promised a charge of action. That promised death in the maw of a killer.

Her mouth did that thing where it opened and closed again, sounds that came before actual words coming out of her, but never intelligible sentences. Her heart was racing, but her lungs were doing a weird thing. Like they weren't getting enough oxygen.

"Why don't you take a deep breath , hmm? And we can talk about what's going on here," he got up from his chair and stood at the side of his desk, arms crossed and feet spread shoulder width apart, formidable. If she looked closely enough, she would be able to see a thick bulge at his crotch.

But she didn't have a reason to look. He wasn't adjusting himself. He didn't even look like it bothered him.

In fact, he looked almost... mad.

Y/n looked at him straight in the eyes, and her's went doe-like, everything in her stilling like the fawn-like creature in the way of an oncoming vehicle.

Everything, including her breathing.

He wasn't going to have her passed out before all the fun began. Needing to get a grip on her, he took a few heavy steps foward, and pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, the other hand tucking into his pocket to actually adjust himself this time because it was starting to get uncomfortable.

Tilting her face up and closer to him, he bent forward so that their noses were barely touching. Her warm breath huffed against his nose, and he had to fight the urge to roll his eyes into the back of his head.

"Breathe, y/n. You can do it," peering down at her with his jack slightly slack and his eyes at half mast, he imitated inhaling deeply, and she mimicked his motions. Her lungs expanded, and her heart slowed slightly. "That's it, darling. Again."

She gulped and her hands squeezed the fabric of the plaid tennis skirt she was wearing, bringing the hem up slightly so the thinner skin on the inside of her thighs gleamed at Harry.

Then he smelled it, and this time he didn't fight the shiver that ran through him. She was wetHis eyes closed, and a groan rolled deep in his chest. His body tensed and relaxed at the same time, like a transformation.

And when he opened his eyes, he was a different version of himself.

One that didn't give a fuck that he was a professor and she was his student.

This version only had one goal in mind: to consume her in every way he could until y/n went limp in his arms.

"Now what's the matter, little bunny?"

***

Y/n didn't know what was happening, only that something had... changed.

She might have been a quivering mess for him, but she felt the shift in him. The edge to him. The gleam in his eye. She had seen his body shiver at the same time she felt her pussy clench at his words. That's it, darling. Again. Little bunny.

He was encouraging her, not far off from what she wanted to hear from him. It stroked her muddled brain and made her feel fuzzy all over. Some of what he was saying was very inappropriate. But she could care less.

“W-what?” she mumbled, confused. She blinked so that a few tears ran down her face, and she couldn't even feel embarrassed about it.

“Y’heard me loud and clear, darling. Don’t make me repeat myself," her professor tutted.

"i'm sorry, sir. It's just that... I need to work on my paper." And she mumbled something afterwards. Low enough that he wouldn't have been able hear if he was a human. But he wasn't. That didn't mean he couldn't play with her.

"Speak up, y/n. Good girls don't mumble." His tongue was like a lashing, a reprimand, and she felt the scolding everywhere.

"It needs to be better for you, sir." Gulping, she rubbed her thighs together and shuffled in her seat. Y/n was finally one-on-one with him, and she thought she knew what it would feel like.

She was wrong.

Everything was sensitive. Hot. Cold. She was twitchy and there was this squirrley, jumpy feeling inside her. She wanted to run away like a little mouse, but she also wanted to be warmed in his hands. By his words. She wanted to hear the praise come from him so that she could stop feeling so desperate.

Y/n got like this sometimes. Whiny. Insatiable. But no one ever knew how to handle her, when to realize that she was finally full. So she was always... hungry. Like something inside her needed to be stuffed. Abused a little, maybe. She wanted to be handled and then petted. Fucked and kissed and then held. She wanted to be good.

And being like this with him, in a position that made it seem like that was possible, y/n thrummed.

Humming in realization, he stroked his knuckles down the side of her face in a caress, "and what makes you think it isn't already good?"

She leaned into his touch without realizing it, nuzzling into his hand. All she had to do now was purr. Y/n shut her eyes before speaking, "Y-you... you never-"

"Open your eyes and look at me when you're speaking, bunny." Again, the stern, scolding tone. This time it made her flinch and whimper. Her hips rocked in the chair, and he tracked the movement like a leopard in the trees ready to pounce. Y/n knew that he saw, and her face bloomed with heat.

In a breathy, chocked string of words, "you never leave nice notes on my papers, sir. All the others do, but there never any on mine and I just thought... that I n-needed to work harder to be b-better."

She shuffled again in her seat, and her professor's eyes pinched. His had trailed down to her throat, and he squeezed to hold her still.

“Stop squirming, y/n. You want to be better? Stop fucking squirming," and he released her with a small pulse at the base of her neck. He could feel his teeth bulging under his upper lip, the thrum of her life under his fingers enticing him further. Every bit of reason was escaping him. He was going to lose control. Decades of practice, of edging on months of hunger, were nothing to her allure.

He stepped back at the same time that he realized they weren't close enough.

"Stand up," he told her. He watched as she pushed the chair back and stood on wobbly knees, her gaze still searching for recognition that he had heard what she had said, that he had read between the lines and realized what she needed. "Sit on the edge of the table, facing me so we can speak properly."

When she was seated and her hands began to fiddle in her lap, he stepped close enough that her knees were almost touching his hips. And she couldn't miss it this time. The thick length of him, hard against his hip.

"S-sir?" she prompted meekly.

"You want me to leave nice notes on your papers, y/n?" He asked, settling his hands on either side of her and haunching over her so they were nose-to-nose. She could smell him, strong masculine scents of vintage leather and tobacco and bergamot.

Nodding eagerly like a dog, "mhm. Yes, sir."

"Then why didn't you come see me like I asked on every single one of those papers? You didn't listen to me, so why should I reward you?" He mouthed the words against her skin, trailing them down her jaw to her throat where he teased the skin with the tip of his nose.

The area around her neck felt scorching hot, his lips trailing searingly against her. She couldn't hide how desperate she was anymore. She arched, her body was taught, fighting the urge to wriggle because she couldn't decide if she wanted to get away from him or have more of him, and she needed to be good. He had told her to stop squirming.

"I'm sorry, Professor."

Y/n closed her eyes and tentatively braced herself against him. Trembling hands settled on his arms, thick with deceptive muscle. She could feel the strength hiding beneath the surface, tense like a snake preparing to strike. A strong hand settled at her waist, clamping like iron, and another on cupped her jaw tenderly. It was a dichotomy of treatment. Rough and tender at the same time.

"You were a bad girl, y/n."

Then she felt it, a sharp sting where her throat met her shoulder, where Harry was biting her, and licking her, and suckling at her all at the same time. A mixture of a squeal and a moan jumped out of her, and she dug her fingers into his arms, frozen. Whatever he was doing to her hurt. But it hurt in a good way. A way that made her ache with that need to be filled.

She cried out, "I'm sorry, sir." A wet apology that bared how anguished she was.

His hot tongue flattened against her, and she she vibrated in the place where he left his heavy pant, "are you going to be good for me, bunny?"

"Yes, sir. I wanna be good, please," her head was bobbing in that earnest way again, but with his head in the crook of her neck he could only feel the movement against his hair.

He suckled a little more at bite that was already beginning to close, kissing it tenderly, "gonna be my good little bunny?"

Y/n was huffing, not even bothering to hide that she was horny, “please, p-please- I need-”

“Tell me exactly what you need. C'mon, you can do it,” he coaxed her. The hand at her hip molded the flesh there, pulling her closer to him so she was sitting just at the edge, and her knees were pressed into his dick with the lightest pressure. He bucked against her, a slow roll of his groin against her delicate bare knee.

“I need to cum, sir. I need-” 

“Don’t-” he pinched her hip roughing, his thick eyebrows furowing in disapproval, “forget your manners, little bunny. Rude darlings don’t get to cum.”

"Please let me cum, Professor," she repeated, eyes glossy but no longer with tears. This was something else. Something needy. Y/n could feel her slick juices seeping through her panties and making the insides of her thighs sticker. The triangle of cloth was sticking to her, and the tight feeling of it against her clit made her want to scream. It was just barely pushing, a teasing sensation that was driving her crazy.

She wanted him to touch her. To rub her swollen clit until she drenched hand in her cum, and then to- to-

"I'm not sure I should, y/n. You didn't listen to me. Didn't come to my office. Instead I had to come find you here. What about me, hmm? What if I need something from you?" Harry leaned back, letting his hands run down so they rested on her knees and his fingers could play with the hem of her skirt.

"Whatever you need, sir. Please." Y/n was beginning to sound a little broken. Her hips struggled to stay planted on the desk and her knuckled turned white from how hard she gripped the edge of the wood. She would much rather touch him, but he was too far away and she didn't want to upset him. She stared at him, silently pleading for his hands to creep up and shove into her panties, to play with her hole.

"Right now I need to eat you, little bunny. Are you going to let me?" He tilted his head at her again, calculating. Waiting, observing.

"Yes!" Y/n shrieked, her thighs trembling.

"Spead these pretty thighs, darling. Let me have a taste," he crooned down at her as she opened up, her skirting riding so he could see her panties, how wet they were, nearly transparent with her arousal. With a deft finger, he pulled the gusset of her panties to the side and dropped to his knees.

Y/n whined at the look on his face. Mouth parted, eyes half-lidded and downturned. He looked hungry. Desperate.

Without warning he leaned forward and covered her with his mouth, his tongue licking her and then dipping into her pussy to collect what had pooled at her opening, his teeth lighting tapping against her clit. He thrusted his tongue into her once, twice, three times, and that was all it took. A gush of wetness coated his tongue, and her tremors pulsed against his lips.

He leaned back and slapped her cunt with an angry growl, and then shoved two fingers into her, fucking her roughly so his fingers got wet with her, "seriously, y/n? Did I give you permission to cum?"

"N-no, sir," as she sat hunched over his kneeling form still twitching, Harry shoved his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean of her, and then stood up, not even bothering to lay her panties right before yanking her to stand.

"Get up. We're going to walk to my rooms. Your'e doing to do so quietly, and when we get there, you're going to take your punishment like a good girl, do you understand me?" With a single finger pointed at her, y/n understand she was in for it. Her hands flew to pick up her things, showing her papers into her bag and looping it on her shoulder so she was ready to go.

"I understand, Professor"

He took the bag off her shoulder and laid a hand on her lower back, keeping her at his side as he led her out of the library and into the night, "that's better. Come this way. The night is still young, bunny, and we're both in for a treat."

*****

happy halloweenie!! hoped u liked this heehee. missed mr. vamp. lmk ur thoughts!!!

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles blurbs #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #vampire!harry #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x yn

[inawearyworld]

music makers/dreamers of dreams: a fiytwtb addition

a study of wren's relationship with music at two pivotal points, and music's relationship to the world of wonka as a whole

2023!wonka x oc (though lbr there is also a SIZABLE dose of fickelgruber), ~1.9k

alrighty SO. i was thinking more about this dang movie (as you can probably see by the rest of this blog) and all those thoughts came here. i am a big ole motherfreakin nerd for music and shakespeare and many other things, and therefore so is wren.

also this takes place in the universe of the original screenplay (in which pure imagination is first sung by noodle as she teaches willy to read). my take on that song here in general is more like the original in the 70s movie; there’s just Somethin About It Man.

alrighty, enjoy, like comment reblog etc, love yall <3

fic masterlist

“We are the Music Makers, and We are the Dreamers of Dreams”, being a Prologue and Epilogue to “the Chronicles of the Songbird”, regarding the Songs in question and their Bird, one Wren Matterson.

Two Years and Eight Months Prior to Chapter One

This had been a very odd evening.

Wren had been put up in a luxury hotel for the amount of time she’d agreed to stay in the city, which had taken quite a bit of getting used to. Coming back to her room after a day of work voicing advertisements, she had noticed a crisply thrice-folded paper slipped under her door, held together with an emerald wax seal.

Yes, that was where the oddness had started.

She’d torn the seal, read the note conveyed by a cursive hand so elaborate it nearly caused a headache, and crinkled her brow.

She’d opened the door to her room’s closet, faced with the sight of a dress, stole, and gloves of deep green velvet that she soon learned were impossibly well-tailored.

She’d followed the address of the note, becoming even more confused when it led her to the city’s cathedral, but presented it to the bishop as instructed. He had looked her up and down and ushered her into what turned out to be an elevator.

She’d continued through the corridors, growing more and more curious and undeniably uneasy, greeted by a woman with tired eyes whom she wished she could have truly talked to. Any attempt at conversation that Wren made, though, was interrupted by whispers that came from the other side of the heavy door-

“The two of you must stay mostly in shadow, she won’t agree if she recognizes you and knows of our arrangement too early.”

“Are-are you sure of her, then, Felix, if she’s too-”

“Oh, do shut up, Gerald, she’ll certainly come around by the time we’ve-besides, you know you owe me one-”

“Gentlemen, please. Let’s just focus on the…ahem…altered choreography.”

“You can’t be in the center all the time, Arthur, it so happens that for this particular-”

“Fine, fine. Miss Bonbon, lights at the ready?”

And then the guard had cleared her throat, the whispers had ceased, and Wren went inside, asking if this summoning was for some sort of rerecording session.

And that was how she had gotten to this point, whatever point this was.

The evening’s oddness now found her the focal point of a whirling tango, a display so dizzying she barely knew which way was up. It was a teenaged fever-dream fantasy come to life, colored lights flooding and hands on her waist and trembling twixt-verse vamps and velvet and tweed and silk.

It was a too-sweet overwhelm of something, but at least it was something at all.

The lighting was such that she couldn’t tell exactly where she was, but she realized that, in that moment, she didn’t care. There was a taste of dark mint chocolate in the air, and she became aware that at some point a massive necklace of dewdrop emeralds had been clasped around her neck by a deft, grazing touch and was now dappling her collarbone as she was twirled, dipped, tossed, thrown.

Most inescapable of all was Felix Fickelgruber’s voice in her ear, accompanied by tight harmonies that came from seemingly nowhere, promising her every speck of security and influence that she’d been in need of her whole life. Any question or dissent from Wren was smoothly dismissed in rhyme, and even when she could get a few words in, they somehow always came out in rhythm.

It was almost as if her innate tendency to musicianship overruled any resistance.

It was almost as if he’d known that would be the case.

The realization was alarming and delicious all at once, and with the current sensation of melodies pronounced against her neck, she was inclined to focus on the latter.

The music from nowhere started to build, shifting from the driving tango into a blasting Broadway finale. Clear-toned horns, stunningly blaring lights, this sauntering silhouette with his sea-of-chocolate eyes calling her by a new name-it was too much, one quiet thought piped up, something’s being hidden.

“You’ll be living so high, don’t refuse my-”

Then the lights dimmed further and all else seemed to disappear, save for Felix and the sound of one solo violin.

“-question it took all this to confess.”

The violin threw in a chromatic accent, adding to her held-back and long-delayed swoon, and she realized the next line was hers.

“Don’t know if I should play it…”

“Darling, won’t you say it?”

Then his hand was lifting her face, and there was silence for the first time in what felt like ages.

She was backed up against a wall, not only in metaphor.

There was only one syllable left in the stanza, and only one possible rhyme.

“Yes.”

She let out a breath, which was soon caught up into his own as violins swooped into a sickeningly soaring final beat.

A Few Minutes Following Chapter Five

The librarian that had been the first in this city to give Wren a kind smile all that time ago was standing on her steps, hugging her daughter, who looked as if she was finally breathing for the first time in her fourteen years.

Without question, this was the most beautiful thing that the other woman had ever witnessed.

Something close to the same was probably true, too, for the man who stood beside her.

“If you want to view paradise, simply look at them and view it.”

He’d sung to Noodle to encourage her as they approached the library, a lilting melody that he was currently continuing-to himself now, and with tears in his voice.

“Somebody to hold onto; it’s all we really need.”

They both knew Noodle would stay in touch with them, they knew they were more than happy for her, but they were still touched with tears. Wren had her own bond with the girl, but she knew Willy would miss her the most out of everyone, so she took his arm, and they leaned on each other.

“Nothing else to it.”

He was probably thinking of his own mom, too.

And she was thinking of hers.

They’d finally been able to write back and forth again; Wren had read over and over the two years’ worth of her family’s letters, remembering all the time she’d spent worrying and wondering aloud to Felix why she’d never gotten a letter from them. He’d always flicked her words away, assured her they must have simply been busy, that the mail these days was spotty; his voice was always sweet and smooth on those days, and she’d allowed it to comfort her when she thought nothing else could.

Never again.

She’d written pages of apologies and explanations to her mom, pouring every ounce of love into that paper, and receiving the reply felt like a world-heavy weight off of her shoulders.

It was the same feeling that she knew her friend was feeling now, that her new love had felt in spirit just minutes ago.

They held each other, certain and close within the shared tinge of loneliness.

“So goes a good deed in a weary world.”

They turned to see the Oompa-Loompa just down the path, looking between them, his eyebrows going up a bit when his gaze found Wren.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Wonka,” he said half-sarcastically, “it seems I’ve misquoted in the presence of your aficionado of the Bard. ‘So shines a good deed in a naughty-’”

“It’s fine,” she laughed. “Portia’s…not exactly the most admirable of characters to need to quote correctly, anyway.”

“Quite right.”

“And I do like ‘weary’,” Willy mused. “It’s not what’s written, but it…”

“Just feels better,” Wren agreed, and Willy smiled at her before turning back to the Oompa-Loompa.

“I was wondering if I’d see you again.”

One negotiation later, the three were walking across an old bridge to a castle of ruin that nearly took Wren’s breath away. There was history in these old stones, so much life, so much room to dream.

“It’s beautiful, Willy.”

“Just wait,” he said with a grin.

“It was sweet, by the way, what you sang to Noodle. How did you find that melody?”

“It was hers, actually. Seems the idea of imagination can…”

He trailed off when the church bells tolled in a way that Wren had never heard them ring before.

High B flat, low A, low B flat.

High B flat, low A, low B flat.

High B flat, low A, low B flat.

Over the ostinato, she started to hum Noodle’s melody, and Willy stopped in his tracks, looking straight at her.

“What?” Wren said.

“...It fits.”

“Yeah, perfectly,” she smiled.

“Keep going,” Willy said, getting that sort of shimmer in his eye that usually came when he’d thought up some sort of wonderful new idea. “You’re the only person I’ve known who sees beauty in an old ruined castle-not only what it could be, but even just what it is. So”-overwashed with thoughts, he took her hands and kissed them, the dreamer in his element, and she laughed, and the Oompa-Loompa rolled his eyes, and Willy grinned, leading them into the castle-“so, Wren, my dear Wren-tell me what you hear.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and let it come. The possibility of the place, the fulfillment of the past few weeks, the melancholy and wonder, the magic that had entered her life.

“Start with a minor chord on the second,” she said softly, slowly. “Repeat your first few notes, let it fall into the five, then-then it goes to that major seventh.”

She swooned into the unexpected chord, then realized that, as she was murmuring each suggestion, it was blooming into full orchestral realization behind the chocolatier’s voice. At the same time, the castle’s courtyard was starting to take shape; the crumbling walls returned to their speckled glory, a beautiful domed ceiling of glass appeared from nowhere, and colorful ingredient pipes started to snake around each corner. Willy’s eyes widened with wonderstruck joy as his creation came to life, and he and Wren looked at each other with equal and mirrored pride.

For his part, the Oompa Loompa started to seem the slightest bit impressed, which the couple took as a win, smiling in awe as they danced into the space.

“We’ll begin with a spin, traveling-”

“One, two, diminished flat three…”

“-in the world of my creation!”

He was the taste and the sight, she was the sound and the sense.

“What we’ll see…”

“Two-five…”

“…will defy…”

The dance came to a pause, and he turned to her, eyes shimmering with anticipatory trust.

The answer came to her as a miracle would.

Your wheel mixes its chocolate, my song mixes its mode. Subvert their expectations, my love, just like you always have.

“Major three,” she said breathlessly, and-

“Explanation.”

The chord ricocheted through the space, and something like a sigh of a laugh escaped them both. Then the bridge came, soaring and swooping with a much truer hope than anything she’d ever heard before.

Wren Matterson had always loved music-it had been once her lifeline, then her work, then the thing that had held her in place. But now, it didn’t have a betraying hold on her, no-now it was hers, born of inspiration from those she loved, coursing through her skin with a warmth unlike anything she’d ever felt.

Perhaps there wasn’t exactly nothing to it, but they had indeed changed quite a bit of the world, and she had the feeling that they’d only just begun.

“There is no life I know to compare with pure imagination. Living there, you’ll be free if you truly wish to be.”

#fiytwtb #wonka fanfiction #wonka 2023 #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet fic #timothee x reader #timothée chalamet #willy wonka x reader #wonka #wonka movie #wonka fanfic #timothée chalamet x reader #mat baynton x reader #mat baynton #mathew baynton #mathew baynton x reader

[prettylittlels]

He (Tom Blyth part 1)

summary: you meet a beautiful stranger on the train, what a shame you'll never see him again

He. He, who looks like a Lana del Rey song. He, who dresses old money style and wears tweed suits. He, who looks like the leading man in a book written by a woman. He is an Alex Turner mixed with Tommy Shelby. Just him. That's what occupies my view at the moment. One Wednesday afternoon on the subway, he appears in front of me. So elegant, so delicate, yet so masculine and impetuous at the same time. He is the only thing in this world that is a pleasure to see, what a sight for sore eyes! I don't know how long I've been looking at him, mesmerized by the way he is. If it were up to me, I would stare and stare at him all my life with pleasure. But not everything turns out the way you want it to, does it? In this trance-like state, I don't pay much attention to a woman to my left screaming fiercely. Nor had I realized she was talking to me, still focused on this divine being; only really hearing as she waves her wrinkled hand wildly up and down my face.

- ... stupid ? Are you deaf? -

- Excuse me, madam,- I reply, -I'm...

-No! - she yells at me again - didn't you notice that I've been trying to tell you something for five minutes?-

-I'm sorry, really - I say trying to keep calm. Is anyone witnessing this? - I didn't mean to... - Turning my head, my gaze meets his.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no! At that very moment I begin to question all my decisions made during the day. What is he going to think of me now? Surely I must look like an idiot who doesn't listen well. I look awful today, is he looking at my hair? Why didn't I put some makeup on today?

But all those doubts vanished the second he started smiling. I used that millisecond to burn that image into my brain. It was as if God himself sculpted that smile.

Before the insufferable old woman could continue screeching, the subway arrived at my stop and I took that opportunity to run out through the automated doors. Independence station wasn't the most well-kept station in the city, so as I escaped I collided with the rest of the people trying to get into the subway to avoid stepping on any garbage bags. Approaching the stairs to go up to the streets again, I accepted the fact that I will never again meet that man who looked out of a Vogue magazine, and that I will only meet with him again when creating romantic fantasies, where I live in a double apartment in Edim....

-Miss! Miss! - echoes a man's voice along the corridor - Wait a second! -

I stop. I sigh. I turn around.

Who could it be now?

It was him. Him! He's walking towards me! No, running towards me. With a purse very similar to mine. Wait, what?

-You forgot your bag on the subway - he breathlessly informs me. She laughs as she laughed before - I almost didn't notice -

He holds the purse out to me.

-Th-Thank you - I manage to say. Fucking hell, the first time I talk to her and I already look bad - Sir.-

- Ha! - That smile again - You're welcome -

I grab my purse, and hold it against my chest. What do I say to him? Oh, God; my nerves are eating me alive. Brain, where's an excuse when you need it?

I smile politely to show my gratitude and turn around to climb the tall stairs. I need. To get. Home. Now.

The man looks at me confused and wishes me goodnight. He's walking the opposite way from me, and I couldn't be more relieved.

#bookworm #fanfiction #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #tom blyth x you #x reader #writing

[thebreakfastgenie]

Genie! I have a fun question for you! There is a Billy Joel convention and everyone has to dress up. What would be your Billy Joel inspired outfit??Something from an album cover, a music video???

Honestly my favorites are just his concert looks from the mid 70s through the early 80s... I love the red blazer but I think I would probably just do the Live From Long Island suit+sneakers combo complete with taped up thumb (even though my thumb still has all its bones). There's also one where he has a tweed jacket with jeans that I'm very fond of.

That's if I was by myself. If I had someone to do Christie Brinkley's part I would totally do the Uptown Girl music video mechanic look with the grease rag in the back pocket. If I had a whole group of friends I'd wanna do the The Longest Time video look, definitely the old age makeup version.

If I had a friend who kind of looked like me I might be tempted to do the Billys Joel from the Sometimes a Fantasy music video. That's the evil one.

Or wait maybe I need to recreate the Russia tour outfit (jeans, extremely bland gray sports coat, short sleeve shirt buttoned to the neck) and carry around a toy piano to throw........

Might also have to steal @wellmanneredthief's idea and copy Mark Rivera's Wembley 1984 look.

I would personally not add a shirt under the blazer I would just hope it was positioned to conceal my nipples and hope I didn't get arrested when one inevitably slipped out #FreeTheNipple.

#other members of the orchestra feel free to weigh in #i want to do lesbian uptown girl couples costume so badly #i need a tall gf #this was such a fun question ty!!!

[throughtrialbyfire]

stature, canvas, road, and alternate for Emeros Nightlock? (oc character design meme ask)

eeee hi!!

stature: What's your OC's body type? How tall are they? Do they wear clothing to accentuate their look or do they try to mask it?

emeros is much taller than average for a bosmer at 5'10 (177.8 cm) due to his father being half-altmer. i'd say his body type is on the leaner side, with an inverted-triangle shape torso and long legs. he's got great back muscles from years of hunting with a bow back when he lived in valenwood, and then traveling through hammerfell and high rock and hunting when not staying in an inn. as for his clothing, he doesn't tend to aim to hide or show off his body with his outfits. whatever's practical and comfortable and looks alright on him and he likes it well enough, he'll wear tbh

canvas: Does your OC have any scars, piercings, tattoos, or other markings? Do they display or cover them up at all?

both of his ears are pierced! he wears golden earrings. i keep trying to upload a sketch but tumblr won't let me, but you can see them in his ref art here!

alternate: What would your OC's alternate universe look be? If they're a fantasy character, what's their modern look? If they're sci-fi, what's their fantasy look? What AU would you want to see your OC in, and how would they dress themself? Bonus: Prompt an AU!

modern look would mean his wardrobe is full of cardigans, one or two denim jackets, button-downs and cable-knit sweaters, tweed and corduroy trousers, all of it in varying shades of browns, creams, greens, and some blues and jewel tones. he'd likely gravitate towards boots and oxfords for his shoes, and i think his socks would have patterns on them as a little bit of fun in his wardrobe. he's got a very consistent style to him, but he doesn't consciously notice it until someone points it out. he kinda dresses like an old man and i love him for it <3

thank you so much for sending these!! <3333

ask game

#asks #ask games #bishop.txt #oc ; emeros #tes oc #skyrim oc #bosmer oc #ldb #ldb oc

[coffee-in-europe]

january: black-and-white films, old records, red lipstick, classical music, gold earrings, city lights, garnet clothing, champagne, glitter, russian literature, snowstorms, art galleries, dimly lit restaurants, high-heels, chickadees, frosted windowpanes, silk shirts, espresso, pomegranates, snowy owls

february: candy hearts, roses, grapefruit, trench coats, mittens, dark chocolate, calligraphy, sealed envelopes, vanilla cake, ballet, romance films, chandeliers, late-night phone calls, musicals, aurora borealis, marshmallows, pink lipgloss, poetry, freesia, movie theatres, ballads, pressed flowers, stained glass, teacups

march: dark comedies, photo albums, lemons, cold rivers, baking, tidying, colouring, movie marathons, nonfiction books, newspapers, clovers, train rides, fashion magazines, pasta, orchids, podcasts, houseplants, sketchpads, yogurt, celestial art, bubble baths, charcuterie boards, moonlight, ice floes, crystal glasses, coffee dates

april: disney cartoons, rubber boots, tulips, mauve nailpolish, fresh vegetables, cold rain, journals, lavender, fresh eggs, pink blush, birdsong, morning frost, rosemary, tulips, foggy mornings, aloe vera, ponds, herbal tea, puddles, lilies, bunnies, floral sheets, marmalade, pastoral novels, frogs, english custard, lily pads

may: picture books, daisies, farms, warm breezes, cherry blossoms, early mornings, fresh-baked bread, gardening, childhood reminiscing, dandelions, honey, meadows, hummingbirds, butterflies, rainbows, sugar cookies, polaroid cameras, wild mushrooms, carnations, frescoes, silver lockets, brown bears, pancakes, rivers, greenhouses, white sheets

june: jean shorts, pop music, white wine, beach days, yoga, sunday brunch, ice cream, concerts, wildflowers, fluffy clouds, morning dew, cotton candy, turtles, popsicles, kayaks, watermelon, pineapples, vineyards, sparklers, bicycles, denim jackets, swans, asphodels, cocktail parties, gooseberries, lilacs, hollyhocks

july: adventure stories, oranges, lakehouses, campfires, festivals, disco nights, strawberries, figs, starry skies, iced coffee, fireworks, street markets, bumblebees, trumpet vines, strappy sandals, sunglasses, patio lights, linen, denim skirts, pizza, fruit smoothies, pizza, rainstorms, peaches, lagoons, white dresses, astronomy

august: golden sunlight, nostalgia, willow trees, nature poetry, sunrises and sunsets, picnic baskets, sunflowers, crickets, cicadas, colourful quilts, cherries, rolling hills, maxi-dresses, tall grass, dragonflies, crochet, renaissance art, vine tomatoes, overalls, roadtrips, hammocks, sunhats, waterfalls, tabby cats

september: coffee, book piles, croissants, long walks, classic novels, braided hair, notebooks, film festivals, apples, pears, farmers markets, forests, jigsaw puzzles, owls, tortoiseshell glasses, orchards, library cards, foxes, tweed blazers, climbing ivy, tea kettles, maple syrup, goldenrod, lanterns, waffles, boardgames

october: pumpkin patches, black turtlenecks, ginger pastries, fireplaces, wet leaves, ankle boots, corduroy, birch trees, cafés, bookshops, castles, caramel, rainy mornings, blustery nights, town fairs, countryside walks, cinnamon, nutmeg, old houses, black cats, bakeries, creeks, thick blankets, city blocks, white chapels

november: candles, red wine, ancient ruins, greek mythology, second-hand books, plaid blankets, mahogany nailpolish, mystery novels, museums, burgundy sweaters, dinner parties, gemstone rings, icy breath, black coffee, language studies, antique shops, white roses, cobblestones, lace, cathedrals, firewood, audiobooks, crescent moons

december: soft snowfall, christmas carols, pine scent, wool socks, irish stew, fairy lights, thick books, fantasy stories, throw pillows, shortbread, comfort films, window shopping, scarves, icicles, peppermint, carrot noses, angels, hot chocolate, skates, pinecones, caribou, gingerbread, crackling fires, hot toddies, cashmere

#something to look forward to in every month #mine #text #personal #vibes #note to self #Aesthetic

[greypetrel]

Alternate for all the DA OCs ❤️

Hello! :D

Thank you for asking!! oooh this is fun >:3

Tis the prompt list

alternate: What would your OC's alternate universe look be? If they're a fantasy character, what's their modern look? If they're sci-fi, what's their fantasy look? What AU would you want to see your OC in, and how would they dress themself? Bonus: Prompt an AU!

Alyra: Classy and minimal. Will sport tailleurs and suits, the most casual she'll go will be a turtleneck. She'll have a capsule wardrobe extremely cared for in a closed palette of warm greys, blacks and blues. Some brown if she's feeling casual. Will hate sweatpants with all of her might, she won't get close to jersey.

Raina: Oh she'd go for grunge. Flannel shirts, jeans and Doc Martens (the most expensive thing in her wardrobe). Just hand me downs and second hand because she's cheap and she'll stay cheap. She knits her own sweaters and scarves and hats, her favourite colour is red. She had an emo phase in her teen years. You bet she had an emo phase. She has one (1) suit she uses when she needs being fancy. She is very faithful to her father's old pair of RayBan Aviator.

Garrett: Cottagecore mixed to some grunge. Jeans and boots, band tees and flannel shirts. Lots and lots of sweaters and he loves his beanies (all knitted by Raina, some he bought). A pumpkin spice latte in his hand and he's good to go. Won't go crazy on accessories, he'll have a messenger bag if he needs to bring stuff around or just fill his pockets. I think he could have a galaxy fashion phase, yes. Begrudgingly likes ugg boots. But won't be against experimenting and trying skirts and heels, just for fun (he'd like heels).

Aisling: Ok, so. She had a severe phase as a teen between metal and punk (she listens to metal but dresses punk because there's more colour and she doesn't like black and white). She'll go to a more casual wear, lots of leggins and hoodies, tees she has from highschool (she's cheap too) and she stole from friends/family. For something more professional/formal, she'll have something more inspired by vintage fashion ('20s and '30s female fashion with pants). Will choose sandals in January because she still doesn't like socks and shoes. She's the one that will most likely dye her hair, and in crazy colours.

Radha: Something between dark academia -lots of tweeds and wools and dark colours- and something very sleek and very modern, minimalistic style. I don't remember the name of the aesthetic, it's something between Urban and Techno...? Well, still keeping on dark colours with ONE colour to lively it up. Won't be caught dress in white to save her life. One thing she keeps is jewelry: lots of gold! Will sport a new haircut every month, lots of undercuts and keeping it short.

For my own sanity it's better if I refrain from picking up any more AUs, but let's say I'm thinking of the paranormal investigators one and I would really like to write something more about it. 👀

#oc ask game #character design ask

[madisonbeersource]

Hiiii 💙 It's been so long since I've been here.... How are you? I hope you are very well

There are several news about Madison that I want to comment and to begin with, the most important thing, WE CAN TALK ABOUT THE MV ABOUT SPACE!? OMG she even already posted a picture on her ig and said she was going to see aliens!!!! Is real this fantasy?!?! I would love for this new single to be a bit like homesick 2, especially in terms of narrative. It would be a dream. I CAN'T WAIT

According to my predictions I think Mads is going to release this new song on Friday this week no, the next one on June 2nd. Hopefully. And if it's sooner even better. When do you think it will be published?

I think it's AWFUL what I've heard on Twitter about people leaking the Madison song. I haven't heard anything or heard anything personally, but it just seems so wrong to me. Especially when it's so close to this song coming out and we're getting closer and closer to mb2. Madison will release her music when she wants to and that's it. It's so unfair

Oh and can we talk about how AWESOME Madison looked when she went to New York to do interviews and promote her book? She looked so cute in those tweed-like outfits, the sunglasses, those super long black boots she wore to an interview with that gray dress (if I'm not mistaken) but whatever, she looked amazing, as always.

Moonlight, do you already have The Half Of It? Because I haven't read it yet and I'm dying for it. Just like I haven't listened to the podcast Madison did with Call Her Daddy either. I've seen several snippets around, but haven't listened to the whole thing yet . Have you listened to it yet?

Okay... now I can't think of anything else to comment, but omg it's been so long... too long. When we get Madison's new song I'll either scream or cry for joy, I don't know. What I do know is that I'm looking forward to it, not only as a big Mads fan, but also as a big space fan.

I hope you are great and as excited as I am!

love you 🛸

💙🌓👽

hi my lovely stardust<3 i'm doing good wbu?

OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG this is gonna b legit crazy good!! can't wait honeslty i love how she makes continuity of her last album i was scared she would change her artistic choices drastically but OMG noope she did not and thank god!! but so many artist are releasing new shit and i'm beyond exited

she said june 2nd right?

idk who takes care of the songs she made but she needs better security idk how songs can get leaked like that don't they have security for these type of things? but i gotta admit i didn't even know songs of hers were leaked!! i don't wanna know tho ngl i'll not hear anything sdfhgfds i support the queen always

her press tour was So cUTE and true she was SERVING lewks!!!! our girl is not an author and i love this title on her

NOPE I DIDNT!! but i'm dying to have it !! also yes i've seen her podcast it was so real! i prayed for it not to be awkward and thank god it wasn't because i still remember hailey's call her daddy podcast and all i can say is awkwaaaard

IM NOT HERE JUNE SECOND ILL B W MADISON MOTHER QUEEN BEER thank u very much gfdsdfgn finally she's releasing stuff and i admire her for that! also me too i'm still waiitng for the time i can finally go to space

I AM INDEED GREAT AND AS EXITEDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!

i love you the most <3

#ask

[weisssilver88]

Pre-loved, Pre-owned, Second Hand Chanel Garments, Shoes And Equipment Uk

Some of the gents sporting Chanel that night are “friends of the house” including the National Ballet of Canada’s Siphe November. The fashionable principal dancer began his relationship with the brand about two years in the past, a perk that has allowed him access to an array of Chanel that he mixes with his wardrobe of cool impartial designers and excessive road labels. Even higher, November is a perfect pattern dimension in Chanel clothes and footwear. Each time we see a photo of Princess Diana, we will not assist however fawn over her impeccable style. Whether she was stepping out in lengthy socks, outsized collars, or peplum skirts, the royal pulled off any pattern with style and style. But, after her marriage to Prince Charles ended, her wardrobe underwent a change. The House of Chanel launched its first skincare line, Précision, in 1999. That identical yr, Chanel launched a journey assortment, and under a license contract with Luxottica, introduced a line of sunglasses and eyeglass frames. In 1921, to complement Chanel's clothing traces, Coco Chanel commissioned perfumer Ernest Beaux to create a perfume for La Maison Chanel. His perfumes included the perfume No.5, named after the number of the pattern Chanel appreciated best. Originally, given as a present to purchasers, No.5's reputation prompted La Maison Chanel to offer it on the market in 1922. It centered influences from men’s trend and really opened the doorways for women’s style. But as a result of Kendrick Lamar has affected a pretty timeless look — jacket, T-shirt, denims — with a reasonably perfect fit on every garment, he's pulling off Chanel in a way that I haven't seen since, once more, Pharrell x Chanel. Oh, and his seen confidence is completely essential to creating this work. Luxury branded objects which have wash tags that are large polyester rectangles at the hip tend to be extra fashionable and from the late 2000s onwards. The royal selected to put on this sleek, black Chanel dress embellished with gold buttons while visiting Prince Charles at Nottingham Medical Centre. Rather than sticking with a simple shoe, she spiced issues up with pink polka-dot pair. Coco's signature women’s Chanel items such as tweed suit skirts and quilted handbags nonetheless remain as the centerpieces of the brand. However, another important determine, Karl Lagerfeld, worked his magic onto the brand by adding character to Chanel. Lagerfeld’s contact of edginess, humor, fantasy, sexiness and sophistication is clear at each collection; yearly, the fashion icon pushed the business together with his fusion of fantasy with timeless fashion items. With objects like iconic women’s Chanel brand purses, shoes and sunglasses to men’s Chanel bags, and watches, our online Chanel store features an exclusive assortment of women’s Chanel & men’s Chanel items to choose from. The iconic logo of the luxury fashion model, Chanel, is an immediately recognizable symbol that has become synonymous with the brand itself. Through words and imagery, the wonder and complexity of autumn come to life. In the center of Larnaca from November 13th to nineteenth, a rare celestial experience awaits. The Museum of the Moon, a mesmerizing touring art work by UK artist Luke Jerram, shall be showcased for the first time in Cyprus, promising a week of lunar fascination. Ayoub is reportedly selling this stuff as a outcome of they no longer fit and she wants to make room for new purchases. Here at Lá Closet Dé Chánel we offer an award profitable personalised on-line service. Another prolific and lasting CHANEL accessory is the two-tone sling-back shoe, sensible, elegant and designed with respect to the female anatomy. Drawing by Douglas Polland for Vogue reveals the lining of the coat matching the top beneath that was a Chanel variation, made of Moroccan crepe and completely different types of her cloche hats. Vogue France April 1926 Variations of the little black costume in mousseline. It’s speculated that this perfume received its name when Coco was presented with a number of perfumes to check for her upcoming perfume launch. Traditionally, upper-class girls didn't carry shoulder bags, solely purses, and clutches. Although this was not the first bag Chanel released it was the first shoulder bag. Throughout the years, countless variations of the bag have been launched however it has all the time stuck to its authentic style. She additionally popularized the “little black dress” and the idea of costume jewellery, which allowed ladies to add a contact of luxurious to their outfits without breaking the bank. Chanel’s designs were fashionable, sleek, and easy, which stood in distinction to the ornate, heavily embellished styles of the time. This jacket and gown ensemble was purchased by Percy Grainger’s mom, Rose Grainger, from New York boutique La Mode chez Tappé, in 1920. Percy’s high esteem for his mom and her influence on his life and profession are demonstrated by the way he chose to symbolize her throughout his museum assortment. The costume collection, which contains approximately 900 objects, is of explicit significance on this respect, as its content material neatly encapsulates Rose’s aesthetic taste, social attitudes and cultural interests. One Of Many Worlds Biggest Consumers Prepares To Share Her Treasures The New York Instances Princess Diana (shown above in 1998) had an intensive assortment of Chanel pieces — from traditional luggage to colourful suits. Measuring your foot measurement at house is straightforward and solely takes a few minutes. Keep in thoughts that chest sizes can range relying on the brand, so it’s always finest to try on a quantity of totally different kinds before making a buy order. This will cause your hip bones to protrude outward, making them simple to measure. Coco's signature women’s Chanel pieces corresponding to tweed go properly with skirts and quilted handbags nonetheless remain as the centerpieces of the model. However, another vital determine, Karl Lagerfeld, worked his magic onto the model by including personality to Chanel. Lagerfeld’s touch of edginess, humor, fantasy, sexiness and class is obvious at every assortment; every year, the style icon pushed the business together with his fusion of fantasy with timeless fashion items. With objects like iconic women’s Chanel emblem purses, sneakers and sun shades to men’s Chanel bags, and watches, our on-line Chanel store options an exclusive assortment of women’s Chanel & men’s Chanel pieces to select from. It is the perfect harmony.’ So said the nice designer, who was one of the first to re-purpose black as an aesthetic alternative versus a mark of mourning. Four of its shelters had been earmarked for closure after a drop in funding. The sale is organised by Maurice Auction in Paris and the British trend auctioneer Kerry Taylor. Ayoub is reportedly promoting these things as a end result of they no longer fit and he or she desires to make room for brand new purchases. She additionally plans to offer a few of the proceeds to Fondation des Femmes, a French charity for girls affected by violence and abuse. We know that a lot of you are worried concerning the environmental impact of journey and are on the lookout for methods of expanding horizons in ways that do minimal harm - and may even deliver benefits. We are committed to go as far as potential in curating our trips with take care of the planet. Lindsey Wixson in a ruffled dress on the Fall/Winter 2015 couture runway which was set in a logo-laden casino. The Spring/Summer 2014 runway was set up to resemble an artwork gallery, complete with color-swathed dresses. Lagerfeld lends new meaning to winter chic with this Fall/Winter 2010 assortment featuring all faux fur — a novel design approach from a Parisian house at the time. For the 2010 Cruise collection (which happened in Venice), models walked the runway barefoot in seems that nod back to Chanel's flapper designs of the 1920's. Meanwhile, a trio of cream pantsuits, styled with boas of Schlaepfer’s tinsel sequins—and hairdresser Damien Boissinot’s plaited faux-hawks—hint at Viard’s rock chick edge. These painterly inspirations got here collectively in a group characterised by a lightness of touch. Viard inspired some actually outstanding work from the nice embroidery houses of Paris, including Lesage, Cécile Henri, Atelier Emmanuelle Vernoux, and Atelier Montex, and the feather and flower designers Lemarié. These masters cleverly emulated an Impressionist’s daring, impasto paint strokes à la Van Gogh, or delicate pointillist dabs à la Seurat to create small works of art evoking gardens of rose blooms or fringes of dahlia petals. It proposes in particular high jewellery collections and contours of leather items, amongst which we find the 2.fifty five quilted bag, a legendary model synonymous with the Chanel spirit. An evening coat, embroidered over the course of 800 hours to be paying homage to Coromandel lacquered screens, is the item Ayoub has the fondest memories of carrying. “I wore it at a venue when Karl [Lagerfeld] was present,” she stated. When Karl saw me he was so shocked and asked me how might I do that. He then laughed and stated to me, ‘join the club’.” It is estimated it will fetch between €150,000 and €200,000. It is therefore very important to be aware of the unique Chanel sizing system before looking for this brand’s clothing. Set in opposition to the World War II Nazi occupation of Paris, “The New Look” focuses on the pivotal moment in the 20th century when the French metropolis led the world again to life by way of its style icon Christian Dior. As Dior rises to prominence together with his groundbreaking, iconic imprint of beauty and influence, Chanel’s reign because the world’s most famous dressmaker is put into jeopardy. That elusive result is achieved with the assistance of the high-quality supplies that are used within the confection of the completely different feminine designs. Leather, silk, tweed and cashmere assure that finesse and visible impression will be on the menu and the fall of the fabrics over a wearer’s feminine forms is pure perfection, enhancing the overall impact. The idea is to inject a contact of elegance and all-important comfort so buyers can take pleasure in wearing the garments all day if they need to. Although those shades give a traditional look, vivid colours may additionally be thrown in the mix, alongside more casual gadgets for anybody looking to gown down in type. Established by the revolutionary legend Gabrielle “Coco” Chanel, the posh style house has been a long-standing icon within the ever-evolving industry. Chanel is known for its simplistic elegant pieces that stand the test of time. Indeed, what distinguishes Coco Chanel’s affect is her need to create women’s clothes that was each modern and practical, to inject ease and luxury into day-to-day style. chanel clothing Most notable in this vein is the Little Black Dress, described as the ‘Ford’ of clothes. Beyond the LBD, nevertheless, Chanel ensured that monochrome pervaded the brand’s image, from the packaging of a Chanel No.5 bottle to the unique 2.fifty five handbags in black leather and two-tone pumps in beige with a black toe. While she by no means shied away from brighter tones, her dedication to rendering outfits in black and white – magnificence without the frills – is an enduring legacy. During the German occupation of France, Chanel received concerned with a Nazi army officer, Hans Gunther von Dincklage. She obtained particular permission to stay in her apartment on the Hotel Ritz in Paris, which also operated as German army headquarters. Over the years, with No. 5 being an enormous source of revenue, she repeatedly sued to have the phrases of the deal renegotiated. Part of the proceeds of the public sale will go to Fondation des Femmes, a French charity for women affected by violence and abuse. 10 Inexpensive Manufacturers To Get The Chanel Look Most of the sellers are from China, but the wholesale items are shipped across the world. They settle for various payment strategies similar to a letter of credit score, T/T, Western Union, electronic check fee, PayPal, bank card, Master Card, and VISA. Sign as much as our newsletter to remain up to date with our latest provides, merchandise and designer news. This export and import wholesale/retail web site relies in Hong Kong however ships all over the world. The web site is a large wholesale platform and home to 94 of the a hundred topmost reliable wholesale sellers that promote globally. The on-line wholesale and retail platform did not gain 1,5 million international patrons identical to that. Years of glad and successful transactions made this occur. Dhgate can be thought of the premier designer replicas website because of the posh items that you just get corresponding to Gucci, LV reps, Chanel reps & more. The Chanel logo must also be raised, as opposed to being etched or printed on the bag. A large telling sign for us as regards to the chain strap was the stitching on the leather-based intertwined between the chain. On the authentic handbag (gold-tone hardware), you will note that the stitching is clear and seamless. Sandro is yet another French brand that I've sworn by for years. The quality is unmatched, and every merchandise looks like a wearable assertion piece. That is an ideal way of summing up Chanel's work on its clothes collections. If there's a designer accessories model that stands head and shoulders above the remainder, it’s Chanel. Now you can buy stunning Chanel dupes jewellery with out having to pay designer prices. Check out these Chanel CC necklace dupe models Amazing Gold CC emblem Luxury Necklaces Among the most effective ... Chanel’s clothes are also highly coveted and are known for his or her feminine and stylish designs. We encourage everybody to avoid duplicate outlets and pretend items. The Chanel 2.55 or the flap bag was the very first handbag designed by the model. The 2.55 Dupe’s supply the identical great appearance and really feel as the true bag for less than a fraction of the value. In an authentic Chanel bag, the lining fits snugly inside with no bumps. It is normally very troublesome to separate the liner from the bag. When we in contrast this to the reproduction, the liner was dishevelled and unfastened and intensely straightforward to pull out from the bag. You also can see how the reproduction bag (silver-tone hardware) folds extra from a birds-eye-view (it is thinner at the top). The chain straps also start additional back on the genuine model. You can see on the duplicate Chanel chain (silver-tone hardware), there is a double layer on the top flat a part of the leather. AliExpress has a piece referred to as Featured Brands the place you'll find some unimaginable reductions of great products. However, they're normally Chinese branded products, great brands are slowly coming into Aliexpress too. You simply get one shot of questioning an change and also you ought not to squander it if the seller is talking a extra drawn out time in delivery the merchandise. That is an easy method acquired by loads of retailers to protect them from question rising in a while. A few postings don’t say the model of the factor and some others could have indistinguishable spelling to a marked merchandise. Its collection of tailored workwear and tweed jackets rivals all of them. If the Chanel emblem or name is misspelled, you understand you're coping with a fake. It is well-known that Chanel is a so scorching model name, which you may be able to by no means deny. You can regularly see that many well-known feminine stars carrying Chanel footwear be current at various events. wikipedia handbags You need not to envy them anymore, since we are right here to offering you the most modern and comfy Chanel Shoes. You want an outfit that exudes the style of a trendy girl without compromising your comfort, so perhaps a CHANEL T-shirt for women is a good idea. The product is shipped only after you examine and approve the purchase. The reproduction Chanel baggage at DesChanel.nu aren't just identical in looks but in addition in durability and reliability. The luggage are sent out after every of the hardware confirms smooth and correct functioning. This is the DHgate Top Sellers List which replaces what was previously known as the trusted sellers list.

#chanel clothes #high quality chanel clothes #chanel clothing #replica chanel clothes

[modadivas]

Lucy Boynton wore Chanel at the Tribeca Festival Women’s Luncheon

Lucy Boynton, Chanel Ambassador, at the Tribeca Festival Women’s Luncheon wore a pink fantasy cotton tweed jacket and jumpsuit, look 39, from the Chanel Cruise 2022/23 collection.

#Lucy Boynton #tweed jacket #Chanel #Chanel Ambassador #Tribeca Festival Women’s #pink fantasy #look #feminine #clothes #celebrities #celebrities wore #Jacket dress #pink mood #cute

[the-voice-of-hell]

PIXILLATED, pt 02

by me, maybe under the pen name Caesar Train Magenta, idk

CONTENT WARNINGS: fetishization of busty women, a trans woman having to be closeted, organized crime.

Chapter One: Adulting

Bobbi was very gay. She’d never thought of herself that way, though it was an obvious enough thing to believe. A homophobe would compare her assigned gender to her interest in dressing lady-like and have some choice slurs. But she only came to think of herself as more woman than crossdresser within the last few years—well past the bloom of her youth—in response to the increased visibility of transgender women in popular culture. And what is a woman who loves only women? Gay, Bobbi.

And so she realized this one day as she got up for work, trading the feminine undergarments she slept in for closeted manly drag. She wasn’t feeling great about having to look in the mirror to shave, and took a moment to breathe in the presence of womanhood. There she was, still in a grog of dream sauce, wobbling on pink-socked feet beneath a giant poster of Dolly Parton that spanned from the wall above her bathroom door onto the ceiling, looking down like God from the Sistine Chapel. She could almost feel Dolly’s peroxide blonde tresses falling around her face as they sweetly kissed, big breasts pressed between them, and thought that she’d gladly marry that lady, even in her very advanced age. It was a love inspired by the physical, but transcending it.  Bobbi was certain of that.

But it was one of many gay little fantasies, several of which were depicted in posters around her room—Elvira, Tawny Kitaen, Julie Strain, Shannon Tweed, Anna Nicole Smith, and a coterie of less famous womanly women. The dream girls were left behind as she trudged into the bathroom to get Roberted enough for banking.

The mirror was not Bobbi’s friend in the morning. Early fifties, thick and thin in the ways typical of old men, chin a bit too strong, forehead a bit too tall, some deep lines coming in. But the true wrinkles and loose skin of old age hadn’t set in, and the hair she had was thick and curly. That was one blessing from nature—the wild mess of her hair in the morning resembled the teased-out mops of her favorite ’80s and ’90s ladies. But it had to be tamed into a sleazy-looking ponytail for work, with copious product. Soon she would look like a ginger Steven Seagal.

Bobbi’s condo was a tiny thing in downtown Villa Coneja, California. The town was dull, flat, and semi-rural, but for a strip of six to twelve story modern buildings in the middle, like something out of Ohio. Her condo was in the third tallest building in town, a one bedroom which she treated like a studio with a very large walk-in closet. She stepped out in Robert mode, only one block from the bank where she worked in the second tallest building in town. The nearest structures gleamed blue, black, white, and mirrored in the early morning shadows, and planter flowers hanging from street lamps buzzed with fat insects.

“Morning, Robert.”

“Howdy, Bob.”

Familiar people dogged her all the way to her little office on the seventh floor. Accept your identity, be whoever makes us the most comfortable. She closed the office door and rubbed her face. Just eight and a half hours to go.

A rap at the door and it opened, not waiting for a response. It was Steve. “Bagels and donuts at the meeting, big guy. You ready for this?”

“Don’t be a morning person, Steve. Nobody likes that.”

The younger man laughed as he walked away, firing finger guns through the tinted window beside Bobbi’s door. There was a ceiling to floor Venetian blind there and she deployed it, with a burst of dust.

But he had her. She’d forgotten about the meeting, and it was time. It’s not like she had to do a presentation or be a center of attention at this meeting. It was just jaw-grindingly dull. She felt like ripping up paper or kicking holes in the table with her knee, but had to resist.

Time is the enemy. Life is poured from one cup into another and back again, losing a drop here and a drop there until nothing is left. Bobbi got older as the day progressed. What are we doing to make up for these quarterly shortfalls? What have you done for Harvest Bounty Bank lately? How is your agenda today going to contribute to corporate profitability and your job security tomorrow?

She had paperwork to do until well after noon, just processing the business she’d already initiated, not doing anything new to push those profits, and she felt like the boss was looking over her shoulder about it. But she recognized it was just a feeling. Running a bank of any size was a license to print money, and the boss was surely just racking up a bar tab on company credit cards and eating hundred dollar steaks.

In the late afternoon daylight slammed her office, penetrating the blinds no matter how tightly they were screwed shut. The AC pushed the atmosphere around in sludgy invisible chunks of alternating bitter liquid nitrogen cold and stifling muggy heat. The clock moved backward.

A light rap at the door. Must be Helen. “Come in.”

It was not Helen. It was your four o’clock, Bobbi. The woman came into the room tentatively, then more boldly, and took a seat without waiting to be invited. She crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair, but didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, as if she still had the body memory of striking up a cigarette in those situations from decades in the past.

The woman was tall, near six feet and solidly built, but showing the first signs of decrepitude at sixtyish years old, her back hunched forward at the neck and her skin going thin and dry. She was tall-featured, beautiful, and Asian, with a dark blazer and skirt over a less formal mustard yellow shirt that revealed weather-beaten but substantial cleavage.

As she moved her mouth to form words, creases flicked in and out of existence at the corners of it, but her lips and teeth were fascinating, pulling Bobbi into her words immediately. Her silver and dark grey hair was in a large but tame curly bob.

“I’m Julia, Mr. Schultz. Robert?”

“Yes. You were here for ... Lefebvre Entertainment?,” she read off her monitor as subtly as she could.

“That’s us,” she winced and her eyes did a little dance before she regained focus. Not happy at work. “We’re always profitable, but there have been some shifts in the market we need to catch up with. I’m sure we can sew this up pretty quickly. You saw my application? The numbers?”

Bobbi shook a fugue out of her head. “Yeah, that’s right. Strong numbers, but..,” she tried to remember what had bothered her about the application, “I’m led to wonder what kind of entertainment Lefebvre produces. The numbers were too strong for a small commercial studio, but too weak for...”

“Adult entertainment, yes. This bank is spitting distance from the San Fernando Valley. Let’s not mince words.” She crossed her arms and gazed into her eyes with cold fire.

“So you are in adult entertainment. I don’t think this bank is a good fit for—”

“Nobody in this office has ever signed off on a loan for this industry? What would be the harm? I get that nobody wants to be the first, but all your bank would ever see of what we do is our name on the records. It’s nothing, and we wouldn’t advertise who it is we’re banking with.”

Bobbi leaned back and sighed, looking away. “You understand, I’m very unlikely to say yes here. But I am curious. Why the low numbers?”

“No video. The CEO was never interested in moving pictures, and I guess he imagined more of the public was on his page than not. He guessed wrong, but his willingness to pivot now should tell you he’s competent enough to make money in an industry where it’s just about impossible to lose it.” She shrugged and let her arms fall at her sides. “Robert, look at me.”

Bobbi looked into her eyes again, and was held fast. Something in Julia was holding her by the shoulders with strong, cold hands. “I don’t know what I should be saying,” said Bobbi. “You’re lovely and earnest and tough, I can tell you’re great at business, and I respect you too much to want to waste your time.” She felt like a nerdy boy again, falling to pieces in front of a girl he liked, knowing all hope was about to be lost.

Julia smiled. “You’re not a Robert, are you? You’re more of a Bobby.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Be a Bobby, dear, and humor me for a moment. If you were considering a business loan and had doubts about that business, what would you do to settle those doubts?”

She gulped and fumbled with her fingers, the sweat in her hair suddenly going cold.

Julia continued, “We work in the evening. Come and see the studio, look over the boss’s numbers, whatever. What do you say? My car or yours?”

“I don’t—”

“My Lexus is really nice. Just a few thousand miles, AC works on a dime.”

“—own a car.”

“I had a notion.” She stood tall—not quite as tall as Bobbi but making her feel like a pitiful gnome in that moment—and stretched. As much as Julia had been all business on the way in, Bobbi could tell then that she had breast implants. She almost fell out of her seat.

“I shouldn’t,” she croaked.

“But you will. It’s no big deal.” Julia’s voice was crisp, heady, and subtly smoky.

Bobbi was in her disgusting afternoon orange office space, too hot and too cold, oppressed by everything, but she had been flicked halfway out of the picture frame. The world had taken on a new dimension for which she was totally unprepared.

She let herself be seduced by this senior citizen, knowing full well there was no hot sexy reward at the end of this trip. The lady was a CFO in a scuzzy industry, using sex appeal just far enough to take care of business. Unless Bobbi signed off on the loan, they were both wasting their time, and who knew what the mobbish creeps of that business would do if she went into the dragon’s lair and said no?

A world of possibilities, all bad, but Bobbi dragged herself upright and followed the sinister woman like a dog.

Julia whipped the Lexus like a true Californian - speed limits were as well-observed as antique laws about where you can wash your donkey. Maybe if the highways weren’t scorching hells ashimmer with rivers of blood and broken glass, Bobbi would have learned to drive. She always had to unfocus and pretend she was on a carnival ride when somebody drove her somewhere.

“Relax, Bobby. I could tell you were having no fun in the office. This is just a little change of scenery for you. Stepping out for a breather. But you have to remember to breathe.” Again she seemed for a moment like she wanted to light a cigarette or hand one to her passenger. She shrugged it off and zipped around somebody who dared to only do sixty-five in a forty-five zone.

“I’m breathing, I’m breathing. Are we going all the way to San Fernando?”

“Yeah, we’re going all the way.” She snorted at the double-entendre. Too self-aware to be a Bond femme fatale. “Tell me about yourself, buddy. We might get hung up on the highway for an hour.”

“Let’s wait until we’re actually in the gridlock. I’d hate to distract you at these speeds.”

“What?” She looked away from the road long enough to accidentally murder several car lengths of school children. “Where are you from Bobby?”

“Idaho.”

“I’d drive so fast if I lived there.”

“That’s nice.”

Julia was right. Congestion was predictable. Californians drove so fast because they knew it could stop dead for hours and hours depending on where and when they had to go. They reached a point where they were sitting still for ten minutes at a time between moments of inching speed. Her music was just the mild-mannered office lady part of the dial, a blend of soft pop ballads from the eighties through the tens, and she turned it down to a murmur so they could talk.

“It’s time, Bobby. Talk to me like we’re going to do business together, whatever happens next.”

Bobbi cracked her neck and tried to relax into the seat. She looked at Julia with friendly resignation. “Sure. I could ask you about your kids maybe?”

Julia pursed her lips and looked very old for a moment. “How about yours, Bobby?”

“Never had ’em, but people usually like to talk about theirs. Not you? You don’t have to tell me why.”

“I can’t imagine you’ve never had kids. You have it all sorted out, Bobby. Financial responsibility. Hygiene. Basic social skills. It’s a low bar for men. Unless..?”

“Not gay but the relationships never go that far. I admit, I gave up. But that’s not your story, is it?”

“You got me. I had a daughter at a bad moment in life. She ended up in the system. I don’t even know where she is anymore, but I don’t know if we ever loved each other, so what does it matter?”

“I’m sorry. This isn’t going well. And here we are, stuck in the car, unable to just leave the awkward situation, right? What would you like to talk about, Julia?”

“Thanks, Bobby. Well, now I’m all curious why your relationships don’t last. Irresponsible? Unromantic? Unfaithful? Strange fetish?”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Strange fetish it is. It’s OK Bobby. You don’t have to tell me. This trip shouldn’t be too sexy for you to handle. The photography we do is very vanilla.”

“I like vanilla.”

“Sure you do, kiddo. I don’t imagine you have opinions about baseball.”

“Do you?”

“Or cars. What do we even have in common?” Julia regarded her sadly.

“We’re stuck in traffic. And I feel like we’re both trying to like each other?”

“We are. And I do, Bobby. You’re alright, whatever weird toys you have in the closet.”

“Hehe. Thanks, Julia.” She blushed.

“We could talk about your toys.”

“Oh my god, I don’t know about that.” She shifted in her seat.

“I could go first.”

Bobbi tugged at the collar of her shirt. “I definitely wouldn’t talk with a client about that.”

“Heehee. It’s OK, babe. Let’s just listen to these vocoder kids moan about love.”

“Good idea. And I do like you, so remember that.”

“Right back atcha, Bobby.”

They tore through a neighborhood of weedy yards where some black kids had to break up a kickball game to avoid turning into red smears beneath her wheels, coming to a corporate park with no signage except for an unrelated printing press. Lefebvre Entertainment didn’t want to be seen. She had a reserved parking spot but couldn’t quite tokyo drift into position.

Bobbi recovered her land legs and followed Julia to the back side of the building. Julia called somebody on her phone. “I’m bringing a lender to meet Aubrey. Now. We can wait a bit, but I’ll want to get in... Mmhm. Thank you.” She dropped the phone in her purse. “Think you can keep it in your pants, in a place of sexy business?”

“Of course.”

“I knew you were a good kid, Bobby.”

Julia led her to a big loading dock with the metal gate rolled down, and unlocked a small steel door beside it with an RFID dongle. She held the door open for her. Bobbi went in, feeling cold inside despite the hot weather.

The loading dock floor had been converted to a series of photography sets. Industrial HVAC kept the place cold in spite of the massive banks of bright lights. Two shoots were going on at the same time, with young ladies in various states of undress, going through all the poses a director could think of, while camera operators took hundreds of shots per minute. Julia led Bobbi up a ramp beside the proceedings, onto the loading dock proper, where most of the space was taken up by equipment. Between the thick metal stands they could see glimpses of the girls doing what they do. It was all so remote, the idea it should make someone horny seemed laughable.

Then they went into a wood-paneled hallway, around a corner into a broader continuation of the same—this part hung with fake plants and posters of porn and californiana. They passed another old gal with short white hair and a more formal suit jacket and skirt. Julia exchanged meaningful glances with her and Bobbi nodded.

But something was itching at her. Julia had stirred a sense of déjà vu in Bobbi, which had gradually faded as she spent more time in her company. But it pinged her again at the pornographic images in the hall. Something about the style, so abstract and vague she had no hope of placing it, told her she had seen this before. And the white-haired woman clinched it. Who was she? And again, after that moment, who was Julia?

The floor was hard concrete beneath thin green office carpet. Together with the cheapness of the wood paneling in the halls it evoked the idea this was just another industrial space like the docks, but with an extremely superficial veneer of anything else. They came to a door with a textured and frosted window reading “Aubrey Gordon, CEO” in precisely painted sans-serif letters.

But that room wasn’t the office itself. It was a waiting room, where they took the only seats that weren’t pew-like benches against the wall. Still far from comfortable, the chairs were hard plastic, hanging around a glass-topped oval coffee table strewn with bland photography books and pornographic magazines. The magazines were dogeared and wrinkled.

Bobbi asked, “You used to model here?”

“That’s right. Been in business here a long time. Smart ladies change companies, keep looking for a better deal. It’s alright though; I don’t have to see any of my old pictures on the wall.”

“I can’t really imagine what that feels like, having done that work, knowing you’re out there like that. But I hope you don’t feel bad about how you looked. You’re lovely.”

She cracked up, a cackling laugh. “You’re a sweetheart, Bobby. Don’t ever change.” She picked up one of the magazines and offered it to her. “Wanna see what we do?”

“I don’t want to do anything I wouldn’t do in any other business I might lend to.”

“You’d look at what they do.”

“Yes, but...”

“You wouldn’t look at dirty pics. Afraid that your body will betray you? That you’ll get a visible erection in mixed company?”

Bobbi blushed and laughed. “No, but that might happen if you keep talking dirty like that. Take it down a notch, ma’am.”

Julia said, “Suit yourself,” and perused the magazine herself.

Bobbi checked her phone suddenly, panic rising at the possibility she’d walked into a den of organized crime. No bars. The walls behind those panels were all concrete and corrugated metal. What messages had come in before she lost connection? Nothing. Nobody in the bank thought anything of her leaving with Julia.

And why should they? It was an old business lady leading a dorky Robert out into an old business situation, surely. Bobbi didn’t know why she was, on some level, wishing people in the office knew where she was, had some concern for her safety as well. It wasn’t something that ever would have happened in the first place, and would put her job at risk if it was.

She wanted to just run her eyes over the whole scene, look for clues, for something to think about, but her eyes gravitated to Julia and stayed there. As much as Bobbi kept the pictures of lady idols in their youth, her sense of beauty had aged with her. Ladies in pictures could be icons of immortal beauty, but of the women she met in real life, she was only really attracted to those closer to her own age. Women in their twenties and thirties looked almost like children to her.

Julia’s forearms were exposed by the flex in her elbows, drawing cuffs back from wrists, and showing how her skin there had every kind of discoloration of age. Dark little moles, tiny red dots, freckles, more mysterious splotches, in all shades between pallor and the tan of the rest of her skin. But it didn’t matter. Bobbi’s own arms, while younger, were still textured with the progress of life. The lady before her was glamorous in a way she hadn’t seen in a long time - at least, that she’d taken notice of, because it was in someone closer to her own age. She could imagine touching her, running fingers up the trimmed fuzz on her neck into the thick dark grey curls on her head, nuzzling the silver curls at the front, working her lips from cheekbone down to meet Julia’s expressive little mouth.

Bobbi didn’t want to be making herself any more vulnerable in a situation where she’d already foolishly thrown herself to wolves, but her imagination was getting away from her. She unfocused her eyes, so it would, hopefully, look like she was looking at nothing in particular, but in her head she was touching Julia’s sides, moving her hands up toward those impressive breasts.

Then it clicked. Julia Folly. July 1982. Bobbi was in the presence of a true idol, somebody who had ruled despotic over her erotic imagination for nearly as long as it had existed. Her skin burned pink from head to toe and her breath escaped, thinned to desperate little gasps.

A guy came into the room—a creepy old imp like Robert Blake in Lost Highway—and said, “We’re done, Ms. Folly.”

“Thank you, Robin...” Her eyes fell on Bobbi. “You OK, Bobby?”

“Yes,” she mouthed, unable to make a sound.

Robin moved on and Julia sorted Bobbi out with a bottle of water and some attention. The attention made things worse at every moment she touched her, but she somehow managed to tamp down the chaotic energy enough to face the man.

Aubrey Gordon’s office was less cold than the rest of the building, perfectly regulated and sealed in thicker panels of more expensive wood. His ceiling was strange fuzzy drop tiles, but at least it was clean. His floor was Roman tile, and his furniture luxurious and bulky. Ivory bas-reliefs of pornographically proportioned women were inset on the walls to each side of his desk, and his chair’s dark brown leather back rose high above his shoulders like a royal throne.

The man himself had a physical energy not unlike Larry King. He was short but seemed powerful, like if he sucker punched you, you would go the hell down. Dark framed glasses did nothing to hide that he was a savage little animal in human skin.

“What do you have for me, Julia?”

“Bobby Schultz, Harvest Bounty Bank. About the video loan.”

“Have a seat, Bobby.” He gestured with a powerful liver-spotted hand, a few thick gold rings there knocking the surface of his desk. It wasn’t an invitation, but a demand.

Bobbi sat down. “Hello, Mr. Gordon. I’m just taking a look at the operation here as part of my considerations. Ms. Folly’s idea, as was this meeting.” She held out a hand to shake his, while not wanting to touch him in any way.

Gordon took the hand in a manly way, practically splitting her larger hand in two with his grip, then dropped her on the wood like a dead fish. “Please to meet you,” he said, sounding not at all pleased. “I hope you realize it’s an easy fucking call to make. Money’s money. Don’t yank our dicks, alright?”

“Yes sir,” she squeaked. It was a bad situation. There wasn’t a way she could say no, without finding out how mobbish Gordon was. He didn’t even have to hint at a threat. And what was that Robin character to him? “Robin let us in, tonight.”

“Yeah? That’s my executive assistant. He’d usually be the guy you were talking with, but what can I say? I want to get this shit done. You going to help us get this shit done? Make your bank some easy dough?” He leaned forward, a fist on his chin, surprisingly green eyes penetrating Bobbi’s soul.

“I, uh, I, ah...”

Julia leaned over and touched Bobbi’s cheek, gently pulling her gaze up to her own. Her face nearly brushed against breasts along the way. Julia said, “It really is an easy decision. You sign off, you never even have to look at us again. Just reap the rewards and call it a day, yes?” She stood and left Bobbi physically alone in that terrible psychic space.

“We’ll see what we can do, Mr. Gordon.”

He pursed his lips angrily, turning them buttermilk white. “Sounds a little like a dick yank, son, but alright. See what you can fucking do.” He flicked a wrist and Julia quickly scooped up Bobbi, leading her out of the room.

“Sorry,” she said in the lobby, “Seems he’s in a worse mood than usual.”

“I have to get the hell out of here,” Bobbi said quietly, weakly.

“Bobby, it’s OK. I can show you out.” She was already leading her back into the hall, supporting her with a strong arm. The big breast against Bobbi’s side did nothing to quell her overpowering sense of alarm.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

They were out in the hall again, walking briskly. Bobbi was in a terrified stagger, Julia taking slower and even steps, trying to slow Bobbi down as well. “You need to relax, like I said before, Bobby. I can show you some nice people, get you a drink? Not like you have to drive yourself home.”

“I can’t.”

Instead of leading her out the way they came, Julia pulled her into a room near the bend in the hall. It was a changing room with big brightly lit mirrors, a few young naked ladies down the way barely glancing up at them.

“Don’t,” Bobbi squeaked, but Julia kept dragging her into a separate area from the makeup room, more like the green room in a high school drama department, save for the glass tanks of snakes and rabbits. Julia shoved her down into a very soft couch, then pulled up a stool to face her directly.

“Bobby, calm down. Please. I get it. You didn’t want to deal with our world in the first place. I can get you off Aubrey’s radar, OK? I just don’t want you to walk away thinking less of me. I didn’t know it would go like that. I could have guessed, but maybe I wasn’t thinking straight. Just get with me. Look at me, kid.”

Bobbi looked up at Julia with teary eyes. “I’m sorry. I feel like a baby.”

She smiled. “Are you better, Bobby? We can go now. I’ll take you home.”

“Thank you, Julia.”

She took her out through the big cold studio, into the stifling sun of dusk, and back to the wild ride.

-

<back

#pixillated #unfinished #part 2

[mathiassen48mccoy]

Chanel Runway Movie Star Style

A gold-toned chain is hanging from the belt, giving it a singular and up-scale look. Stretch - Most CHANEL belts on eBay could be adjusted by means of varied closures or fasteners. However, you can even find belts which have elastic elements that permit you to stretch them to fit with out utilizing particular person areas to dimension them to your waist measurement. Double wrap - Some belts by CHANEL are purposely wider or longer than common to facilitate the style of double wrapping it around your waist. All lengths or widths for CHANEL belts on eBay are listed in US measurements. Chanel Lock in Tweed Belt Can be worn also as a necklace Approx 34" lengthy Pink Tweed Oversized Lock This is a press release piece! Absolutely gorgeous Hardware is gold The Lock ... Coco's signature women’s Chanel items similar to tweed suit skirts and quilted purses still remain as the centerpieces of the model. However, one other significant determine, Karl Lagerfeld, labored his magic onto the model by adding personality to Chanel. Lagerfeld’s touch of edginess, humor, fantasy, sexiness and sophistication is apparent at every collection; yearly, the style icon pushed the industry with his fusion of fantasy with timeless trend items. https://phoenet.tw/replica-designer-belts/chanel-belt-replica.html Coco Chanel is considered one of the strongest and most influential trend icons, who laid the foundation of one of many biggest trend homes in the world. Born in 1883, Coco Chanel created her empire in fashion by revolutionizing the conformist trend strategy for ladies. Liberating ladies from the bounds of conventional clothes, she introduced a modern look. Buttoned-up items are not boring with this LIE dress. The mixture of houndstooth pattern and navy blue would elevate the everyday wear look. [newline]Flowy from the waist down with an adjustable belt which might be worn to emphasise waistline and flatter your curves. Coco Chanel (1883 – 1971) opened a millinery shop in Paris in 1909 and went on to launch her personal couture homes in Paris, Deauville and Biarritz. From humble origins, she grew to become one of many biggest icons of style in the twentieth century. The prices stated could have elevated for the reason that final replace. Unfortunately it's not possible for us to replace the prices on our website in real-time. Chanel belt, size 80, in silver chain with yellow leather. It has a hook closure, and a yellow CC appeal.The situation of the belt is nice. Beautiful Chanel belt 'Paris-Edinburgh', in black lamb leather completely trimmed with many buttons in tweed, aged gold metallic and pearls. Chanel Vintage ninety's Runway Collector COCO CHANEL Gold Letters Belt Necklace Rare Vintage Chanel belt from 1993 featured in gold with black leather intertwined. Each regional Luxury Lipstick sectors is fastidiously studied to understand its present and future progress scenarios. Use market analysis to get a greater perspective and understanding of the market and audience and make certain you stay ahead of the competitors. The Luxury Lipstick market report has been separated in accordance with separate classes, corresponding to product kind, application, end-user, and area. Each segment is evaluated on the idea of CAGR, share, and progress potential. In the regional analysis, the report highlights the potential area, which is expected to generate alternatives within the world Luxury Lipsticks market within the coming years. In addition, market revenues primarily based on region and country are provided within the report on Luxury Lipsticks. Garden City Assembly of God church, Citipointe Church, Clark Taylor's Worship Centre, and Brisbane Hillsong are notable megachurches on this area. The southeastern area of Queensland comprising the cities of Laidley, Gatton and Toowoomba. Other Bible Belt states have voted for the Republican presidential candidate in the majority of elections since 1980, but have gone to the Democratic candidate both a few times since then. The ’90s marked an era of tv that noticed the birth of a few of fashion’s most prominent fashion icons. Avvenice selects solely vintage merchandise which have excellent conditions, however minimal imperfections aren't excluded. wikipedia belt She was born on August 19th, 1883, in a small village within the South of France; Coco began out within the fashion industry in 1908, creating hats in Paris and later in Deauville. In the 10s, these cities plus Biarritz saw the opening of her first outlets. During the Belle Epoque, ladies were constrained in inflexible corsets and wore pleated, draped and reinforced clothes with petticoats. A belt by Chanel, styled in pewter metal with coin pendants. In the Nineteen Nineties the corporate diversified into other luxury goods, including watches, sun shades, all kinds of clutches and baggage, and reasonably priced jewellery. Extremely rare CHANEL chain belt that includes 2 weapons and a dangling CC emblem between them. Fully encrusted with baguette and circular black-clear rhinestones all through. A belt by Chanel, styled in a patent pink leather-based with silver metallic hardware, size 38. My Chanel gold chain belt has some scratches on but it’s over eight years old. Welcome to Teen Vogue’s 25 Days of Splurging Luxe Gift Guide. 2020 has been exhausting enough, so this vacation season we’re indulging ourselves with these luxury gifts from a few of our favorite brands. Check again here every day till Christmas for some aspirational gift inspiration. All merchandise featured on Teen Vogue are independently selected by our editors. However, when you buy something by way of our retail links, we might earn an affiliate fee.

#chanel look alike belt #chanel belt women #cc belt #chanel cc belt #faux chanel chain belt #cheap chanel belt replica #chanel replica belt #knockoff cc belt #fake chanel belt

[gamble74vilstrup]

Chanel Black Quilted Caviar Leather-based Belt With Silver Cc Brand Chain Buckle

The first Chanel shop was opened in 1910 in Paris on rue Cambon by the younger milliner Gabrielle Chanel (1883–1971), who had picked up the nickname “Coco” whereas working as a club singer. The boutique drew the eye of the Parisian style elite who popularized her wide-brimmed Chanel Modes hats. After JK wore it to the airport, every single part of the costume was sold out. While the ensemble is dominated by black, the layering, accessories, and textiles make this an unstoppable style assertion. wikipedia belt New Jersey, United States,- The Global Lip Powders Market Report is one of the most comprehensive and important additions to Market Research Intellect's market analysis archive. Coco Chanel is likely considered one of the strongest and most influential fashion icons, who laid the foundation of one of many largest fashion homes in the world. cc belt Born in 1883, Coco Chanel created her empire in fashion by revolutionizing the conformist trend approach for women. Liberating women from the bounds of traditional clothing, she introduced a modern look. Buttoned-up pieces are no longer boring with this LIE dress. The mixture of houndstooth pattern and navy blue would elevate the everyday wear look. [newline]Flowy from the waist down with an adjustable belt that could be worn to emphasize waistline and flatter your curves. Coco's signature women’s Chanel pieces such as tweed suit skirts and quilted handbags nonetheless remain because the centerpieces of the brand. However, one other vital determine, Karl Lagerfeld, worked his magic onto the brand by including character to Chanel. Lagerfeld’s touch of edginess, humor, fantasy, sexiness and class is obvious at every collection; yearly, the fashion icon pushed the trade along with his fusion of fantasy with timeless style items. She’s just one girl, in any case, and the ocean is eternal. Every merchandise on this page was chosen by an ELLE editor. "According to a 2011 census, Bavaria continues to be predominantly Catholic". These characters and their distinctive styles have caught with us for decades. In Black Patent Leather, single flap with gold hardware. Store credit might be issued for all common priced returns within 24hrs of receiving your order.

#chanel look alike belt #chanel belt women #cc belt #chanel cc belt #faux chanel chain belt #cheap chanel belt replica #chanel replica belt #knockoff cc belt #fake chanel belt

[therkildsenbjerre7]

Chanel Brand Belts For Ladies On The Market

In Northern Ireland, the world in County Antrim stretching from roughly Ballymoney to Larne and centred within the area of Ballymena is also known as a Bible Belt. This is as a end result of the world is closely Protestant with a big evangelical group. From 1970 to 2010, the MP for North Antrim was Ian Paisley, a Free Presbyterian minister well-known for his theological fundamentalism. The city of Ballymena, the largest town in the constituency, is sometimes called the "buckle" of the Bible Belt. wikipedia belt Conservative Laestadianism, a Finnish Lutheran revival, is widespread in northern (Northern Ostrobothnia and Lapland ) and central components of Finland. If a chunk is marked “As Is” its condition has been taken into consideration when figuring out its worth and worth changes will not be made. All flaws shall be listed under each item’s description. I provide my contact information so MY WARDROBE HQ can inform me about MY WARDROBE HQ products & providers that are tailor-made for me in accordance with the privacy policy. All unworn bridal returns will incur a £40 restock fee. All unworn non-bridal gadgets will incur a £5 restock payment. Harper's BAZAAR participates in varied affiliate marketing programs, which implies we might get paid commissions on editorially chosen merchandise purchased through our links to retailer sites. Her stunning top featured silver stripes that ran through the highest vertically, and silver cuffs. She completed the look with a wonderful velvet skirt, a diamond belt and an eye-catching necklace. The iconic Loewe anagram is prominently featured as a buckle on this easy calfskin belt. Finding the proper belt in your body sort and magnificence isn't all the time seamless. So, we took it upon ourselves, and a little assist from lifestyle skilled Preston Konrad, to curate a listing of recommended belts from the most popular and reputable brands. Provides detailed analysis and evaluation of key features of the worldwide Lip Powders market. The market analysts who produced the report supplied in-depth information on the key development drivers,constraints,challenges,tendencies and alternatives to provide a comprehensive evaluation of the global Lip Powders market. Market members can use market dynamics evaluation to plan efficient development methods and put together forward of time for future challenges. Coco's signature women’s Chanel pieces corresponding to tweed go properly with skirts and quilted handbags nonetheless remain because the centerpieces of the model. However, another significant figure, Karl Lagerfeld, worked his magic onto the brand by adding character to Chanel. Lagerfeld’s touch of edginess, humor, fantasy, sexiness and class is clear at every collection; yearly, the style icon pushed the business with his fusion of fantasy with timeless fashion pieces. Should a store not offer costs in your native forex, we may calculate the displayed worth on every day updated exchange charges. Cancellations lower than 14 days previous to your reserving start date and previous to your merchandise being dispatched will receive a credit score for the full quantity paid, including postage, minus a 30% cancellation payment. fake chanel belt The credit might be provided as an All The Dresses Gift Voucher that can be used on gadgets supplied by Sydney Handbag Hire solely. All objects on REBELLE are checked to make sure their authenticity and high quality. You wouldn't have any products in your buying cart yet. If an item that you've ordered would not fit, you've 24 hours to get in contact with our customer companies on and return your item to us. We will be pleased to refund the rental fee/purchase worth minus the £5 restock fee for non-bridal or £40 restock payment for bridal gadgets for any unworn items so lengthy as the safety tags are nonetheless connected. However, Chanel was not born into a life of glamour. Following the dying of her mother, her father left her in an orphanage the place she lived until the age of 18. It was there that she learned to stitch in addition to respect the basic pairing of black and white as worn by the nuns. In 1926, she launched her first little black dress, reclaiming a shade that had once been reserved for mourning and working-class girls. That same decade, she debuted her fragrance, Chanel No. 5, as properly as the Chanel go well with with a fitted skirt, inspired by the boxy strains of men’s clothing and employing a sporty tweed. Perhaps it’s time for a change, maybe we should always begin wearing Chanel Belts before the development starts. We know this is inevitable, there might be a moment when everybody wears a belt with the CC emblem on it. The legacy trend house held its 2020 Metiers d'Art show in Paris yesterday and Virginie Viard's third assortment for the model was noticeably sexier. There were naked midriffs, tweed suits worn sans any blouses beneath, and hip chain belts on hip chain belts. A lot of them are in unused, giftable situation with all of their authentic packaging. You can filter by the condition of the Chanel belt and price range you wish to pay. Lisa Hahnbück is a style, travel and lifestyle blog from Düsseldorf, Germany for girls who love style and the newest trends and must haves of the season. It's about giving inspiration and the courage for others to decorate up-to-date while not having a giant finances. Lisa Hahnbück is a method of life, journey and fashion weblog from Düsseldorf, Germany for girls who love style and the latest tendencies and necessities of the season. I predominantly searched Poshmark, TheRealReal, and Fashionphile.

#chanel look alike belt #chanel belt women #cc belt #chanel cc belt #faux chanel chain belt #cheap chanel belt replica #chanel replica belt #knockoff cc belt #fake chanel belt

[bankgauthier8]

Chanel Belts On Sale

In Northern Ireland, the realm in County Antrim stretching from roughly Ballymoney to Larne and centred within the area of Ballymena is sometimes called a Bible Belt. This is as a end result of the realm is heavily Protestant with a big evangelical neighborhood. From 1970 to 2010, the MP for North Antrim was Ian Paisley, a Free Presbyterian minister well-known for his theological fundamentalism. The town of Ballymena, the most important town in the constituency, is sometimes called the "buckle" of the Bible Belt. Conservative Laestadianism, a Finnish Lutheran revival, is widespread in northern (Northern Ostrobothnia and Lapland ) and central parts of Finland. Gabrielle Chanel, a powerful and impressive girl, overturned the ladies style, that was constrained within a inflexible social pattern. Chanel the “modiste” didn’t belong to the Parisian aristocracy, nor to the high bourgeoisie, but she managed to make à la page the dressmakers and saleswomen’s attire even for the wealthy ladies from Deauville. As of the current time, Chanel S.A., often recognized as the House of Chanel, is a French non-public firm, that continues to be in the possession of billionaires Gerard and Alain Wertheimer. For worldwide customers refunds will not embody any original delivery prices, together with any import duties and fee fees. All the international orders will bee shipped by DHLExpress. https://phoenet.tw/replica-designer-belts/chanel-belt-replica.html Who’d have thought “grandpa knits” could be so popular? Who’d have guessed that a sweater, fringe, and flower-patched jeans would work so properly together? When he units his diversified items away, V opts for classic basics just like the all-long coat or lighter, more polished neutrals. His style is usually beautiful and unexpected since he could have it at each extremes of the modern and conventional aesthetic vary. VSP Consignment's collection is hand-selected by our stylists to incorporate pieces which are masterfully crafted, versatile, and up to date. Although a lot of our items are pre-owned, we try to gather objects of fantastic situation however on occasion, there could additionally be slight indicators of damage. On items which don't embrace the size and cloth tag, we make an informed guess to the most effective of our capacity and it's famous within the description. Feel free to contact us if you have any questions relating to an item you are interested in. For a London celebration in 1999, Campbell and Moss both wore dresses with glowing chain straps. Yvonne Craig's Batgirl's uniform was not complete with out her suppose gold chain belt and purple metallic bodysuit. wikipedia belt Though her kitten heels could not seem like the most sensible possibility for combating crime, there is no denying that she appeared good whereas doing so. Kimmora Lee Simmons built something truly iconic together with her model Baby Phat. Her collections were a few of the first to make streetwear available to girls, and Baby Phat represented Black-influenced aesthetics on the runway and in widely-seen campaigns all around the world. Though excessive fashion typically derided Simmon's and relegated the model to the "urbanwear" class, her designs have been extremely influential, and Simmon's even relaunched the company in 2019. It seems nice with every thing from a silk dress to denims and a t-shirt. I’m going to offer you all my secrets about how I found mine and some tips that can help you find your personal. Sign up to our e-newsletter for unique offers and the latest information on merchandise, rides and events. Coco's signature women’s Chanel pieces corresponding to tweed go nicely with skirts and quilted purses still remain because the centerpieces of the model. However, another important determine, Karl Lagerfeld, worked his magic onto the model by adding personality to Chanel. Lagerfeld’s touch of edginess, humor, fantasy, sexiness and sophistication is clear at each collection; yearly, the style icon pushed the trade with his fusion of fantasy with timeless style pieces. Magnificent belt from Maison Chanel for the 2011 Métiers d'Art "Paris-Bombay" collection. This belt represents an extended frieze of silver-colored molten paste with yellow reflections. Chanel double strand satin gold belt/necklace with button charm. Be the first to find out about new products, unique collections, latest developments, stories and extra. The eye-catching CD gold-finish steel buckle elevates the look of this belt. The touch of silver or gold accents rounds out this classic-looking belt. Runway SS19 Chain Belt is adjustable, may be clipped on anyplace alongside the chain, matches dimension 6 to dimension 16. From Chanel classics to Hermès icons – find wanted treasures for your collection. Each order is expertly packed to ensure it arrives in impeccable condition and every parcel is shipped with a tracking number. Depending on your country of residence, we'll choose one of the best delivery service for you. Vintage CHANEL Lion Head Medallion Belt Chanel was born beneath the signal of LEO and wore lion jewelries as lucky appeal. Later on, the LION sign turned one of her iconic s...

#chanel look alike belt #chanel belt women #cc belt #chanel cc belt #faux chanel chain belt #cheap chanel belt replica #chanel replica belt #knockoff cc belt #fake chanel belt