when VIXX has a comeback and you’re forced to make lists in order to keep your sanity...
the show (161101) - red military jackets + black patterned suits show champion (161102) - black military jackets + brown shirts m countdown
(161103) - white military jackets + blue shirts music bank
(161104) - dark blue velvet military jackets + red shirts (with black jackets) music core (161105) - black military jackets with red & gold accents inkigayo (161106) - black military jackets + red leather jackets
the show (161108) -
dark blue velvet military jackets 🏆 music bank (161111) - black velvet suits with Victorian style embellishments music core (161112) - black suits with burgundy velvet vests / accents and Victorian style embellishments inkigayo (161113) - black suits with
Victorian style embellishments
the show (161115) -
white military jackets bonus: asia artist awards 2016 (161116) - burgundy red velvet military jackets 🌟
music bank (161118) - black military jackets with white & gold accents music core (161119) - dark blue military jackets with black & gold accents inkigayo (161120) - white military jackets with gold accents
Everyone loves a great costume, and those living at the end of the 19th century were no exception. American history, especially the Revolutionary War, became very popular after the Centennial in 1876. This interest in history is reflected in one of my favorite museum pieces I unearthed in the men’s clothing collection.
This is a replica of a Washington Continental Guard Uniform from the Revolutionary War. As I went through the collection I kept finding pieces of this costume, 16 pieces in all, from the coat and vest shown here to a hat, wig, stockings and even garters!
There was no date in the database for the costume, so I was elated when I turned over the belt on the back of the vest and found a makers label from 1897.
Obviously an expensive costume, its numerous pieces, quality materials and subsequent care attest to that. The costume is well tailored especially the vest and coat that a stiched to fit the particular wearer perfectly. But it is not created to be an “authentic” replica of a Revoluntionary War uniform by any means. The lace on the cuffs are sewn on the coat, the buttons are just large flat polish brass, and many of the pockets are false. But it gives the essence of a Continental Guard Uniform, perfect for whatever masquerade ball it was created for!
Replica of a Washington Continental Guard Uniform,1897, Waring, wool, brass, L: 41.5in. Fenimore Art Museum, Cooperstown, New York, Gift of Mrs. William Bowers, N0325.1948(1).
[HONESTLY SHAWN DIDN’T HAVE TO DISRESPECT ME LIKE THAT!]
The elevator doors open and I step onto the floor of the penthouse elevator. I take out my room key and unlock the door before stepping inside and locking the door. I take off my jacket and hold it over my arm as I walk down the narrow hall. “I’m back!”
I hear nothing and think that maybe Shawn was still at the photo shoot with Italian Vogue and continue to walk and turn to the kitchen entryway. I place my jacket on top of a stool before grabbing a glass of water and grab some ice cubes from the freezer. With my water in my hand, I walk out to the living room. As I take a sip of my water, I see Shawn and choke on an ice cube before swallowing it. He smirks at me and I bite on my lip.
Shawn lies back on the loveseat, his arm out and resting against the back cushion and his other hand by his face with a finger resting against his smirking lips. He’s in a maroon suit with the front open and exposing his toned and muscular abdomen. I open my mouth to speak but no words come out. “It’s from the shoot,” he says. He gets up from the couch and walks over to me. Shawn towers over me and I tilt my head back slightly and look up at him. He takes the glass from my hand and takes a sip. He puts the glass back in my hand and walks to the coffee table and picks up a yellow envelope and hands it to me. I take the envelope and he takes the water.
“They’re the developed ones from the shoot today,” Shawn explains to me as he walks to the bedroom. I open the envelope and slide the photographs out. They fall onto my hand and I look at them.
The first is a picture of Shawn lying on a dark blue couch. He wears dark blue pants and a matching navy blue old style military jacket. The jacket is open and reveals his abs while he looks seductively at the camera. His hand is draped teasingly over his crotch. “How was it?” I ask him.
“It was good,” he replies. “What do you think of the photos?”
“Papi,” I say to myself.
“What?” He replied.
“Nothing,” I reply. “I like the photos!” I slide over to the next photo. Shawn lies on the same couch in black pants and nothing else. His arm is over his chest and he looks away with a smile on his face. I go to the next photo and he wears the same maroon suit with a blue silk shirt under the jacket. The front is open and his hands are in his pockets as he looks at the camera. “Papi,” I say to myself again.
“There was supposed to be a tie for that one,” Shawn says as he walks back to the living room. The cup is still in his hand and his other hand is in his pocket. “A maroon velvet one.”
“Why isn’t it in there?” I ask.
“They couldn’t find it,” he shrugs. Shawn sets the glass down on the coaster and in front of me. “But they let me keep something from the set.”
“Besides the suit?” I reply.
“Yeah,” he says.
“What’d they let you keep?” I ask him as I move onto the next photo. Shawn holds his fist on top of the photograph I was currently looking at. I look up at him and he raises an eyebrow and glances back down to his hand. I look back down and see a maroon velvet tie in the palm of his hand. I open my mouth to speak and Shawn seizes the moment to place his lips on top of mine. He slides his tongue into my mouth and the pictures scatter onto the coffee table as he grabs my hands in his and leads me over to the couch. I fall back and he straddles me.
I bite onto my lip as he binds my wrists together with the tie. He weaves the fabric up and under my skin before tying it into a knot. He puts my arms above my head and leans down to kiss hungrily at my lips. I moan into his mouth once I feel his fingers creep under my pants.
Shawn presses his thumb against my clit and begins to rub against it. I arch my back onto his body and he places his other hand in my hair and begins to tug at it. “Shawn,” I moan.
I want to badly to touch him. To run my hands through his hair and even get to touch his skin. But I can’t. All I can do is watch as he teases me.
He smirked, biting down on his lip, and watching me as he rubbed a bit harder at my clit. I continued to moan under his touch. My breath hitched and my chest heaved up and down as he dipped in another finger. “Shawn,” I pant, “Shawn, oh, papi.”
He kissed at my neck and pulled out his fingers slowly. Shawn pulled back and made direct eye contact with me and sucked on his fingers, tasting me. “Oh, fuck,” I pant.
Shawn unbuttons my pants and slides them off my legs before tossing them to the floor. He kisses at my thighs and slowly creeps up to my waist and then tugs at the band of my underwear with his teeth. I close my eyes and feel him slide them off my legs. I hear the familiar sound of the ice clinking against the glass. Shawn lifts my legs onto his shoulders and I feel an ice cube grazing against the skin of my inner thigh. I open my eyes and see him looking at me. The ice cube rests between his teeth and he winks at me before taking the cube in his mouth.
“Don’t move your hands, baby girl,” he says. I whimper as he kisses sweetly at my labia. Shawn keeps direct eye contact with me as he glides his tongue into me. I arch my back and open my mouth the moment I feel the ice cube at my clit.
“Shawn,” I moan. With his tongue, he glides the cube inside me and against my clit. I throw my head back and arch my back.
His tongue is warm, the ice cube cold, and they both glide against my clit. Shawn presses my hips back down onto the couch and I bring my hands to his hair. “Shawn!” He grabs my hands and holds them against my chest. “Th-There,” I pant. “Shawn, fuck, there. There, there, papi, there.” He continues to tongue at my clit and rubs at my inner labia with his thumb. “Shawn,” I moan over and over. “Shawn, oh, god, Shawn.”
I want to grip onto his hair but his hand is holding my bound wrists to my chest. Instead I squeeze my thighs around his head. My chest heaves up and down as he continues to glide up and down with his tongue. The cold of the ice cube is gone, leading me to believe that it had melted.
“Say it again,” Shawn says. He licks his lips and continues to finger me.
“Papi,” I moan. He smirked before ducking his head back down and fulfilling me with the sensation of his tongue. I squirm under him and feel my voice go sore. “Shawn, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna, oh, god, I’m gonna cum.” I arch my back and orgasm, but Shawn doesn’t stop. He continues to eat me out and finger me until I managed to compose myself. He kissed at my thighs before slowly coming up to kiss at my lips. He ran his tongue across my lip and I opened my mouth to allow him access.
He kisses me and untied the fabric from my wrist. Shawn pulls back from the kiss to take my shirt off. I sit up and get ready to take my bra off, but Shawn stops me. “No,” he shakes his head. Shawn takes my hands again and ties them once more. He pushes me back to the couch and he unbuttoned his pants. I bend my knees as he gets back onto the couch. He places a hand above my shoulder on the cushion under me and we’re face to face. With his other hand he rubs himself hard. “Tell me you want me,” Shawn says as he leans down and kisses me. “Say it.”
“Daddy I want you,” I say. He bites on his lip and shakes his head.
“You know what I mean.” He pulls out his hard erection and with he rubs his head against my clit and teases me. “Tell me you want me.”
“Papi, te quero.” I moan.
Without a warning, Shawn slams himself inside me. His hand is holding my bound wrists above my head and with his other he holds my knee to my chest. I pant as he painfully slowly pulls out. He goes inside me all the way and my body twitches under him. Shawn leans down and bites at my bottom lip and begins to form a fast and rough rhythm to his thrusts. I moan into his mouth and he slides his tongue inside mine.
“Do you want me?” Shawn asks.
“Ah huh.” I nod.
“Say it. Say you want me.”
“Shawn, I want you.”
“Say it out loud.” The couch gives a small squeak as he thrusts faster and harder. “Say that you want me out loud.”
“I want you,” I moan.
“How bad do you want me?” I bite my lip as he makes eye contact with me. “Tell me how bad you want me.”
“So bad,” I moan. “Shawn, I want you so bad.”
He grunts before leaning down and kissing me. “God, you’re so fucking tight.”
“Shawn,” I moan. My voice quivered and my breast bounced each time he roughly thrusted into me. I wrap my leg around his waist and he lets go of my arms and holds onto my thigh.
Taking me by surprise, Shawn pulls out and flips me over onto my stomach. He slaps my ass before thrusting himself back inside.
“Fuck,” I moan into the cushion. He places his hands at my waist and I arch my back. “Faster!”
Shawn moans from behind me and I bite on my lip. “Princess, you feel so fucking good.” He grabs my hair and pulls it. My head yanks back and I’m looking up at the ceiling.
“Shawn,” I moan. “Oh, fuck.” He places a hand on my waist and with his other he slowly brings it up from my back to my shoulder and slowly pushing me down towards the cushion. His thrusts are more slow but he manages to continue going deep into me.
“So tight,” he pants, “so fucking tight.”
“I want you,” I moan. “Shawn I want you.”
Both of his hands are now resting on my waist and, while still inside, he turns me on my back again. Shawn lies down on me and I wrap both of my legs around his waist. He continues to thrust into me and had even picked up the pace. My wrists are still bound, but I run my fingers up and down his toned abdomen.
“Fuck,” Shawn grunts. He grips onto my arms as he pumps in and out of me faster and harder.
“Oh fuck,” I moan, “I’m gonna cum.”
My legs feel weak and my breath hitches with every thrust Shawn gives me. He kisses at my jawline and trails his kiss up to my mouth. Shawn bites at my bottom lip, tugging at it before he kisses me with his tongue.
His thrusts gets a little sloppy and I know he’s near his orgasm. “Faster,” I pant.
“Say it again.” Shawn grunts. His hand goes to my neck as he goes faster. “Tell me you want me.”
“Papi, papi te quero,” I moan into his ear before biting his earlobe. He presses his thumb against my neck and my eyes flutter closed.
“Oh fuck!” Shawn grunts as he cums inside me. He, sloppily, continues to thrust into me until I orgasm a few seconds later.
“Shawn!” I moan out loud and arch my back. Shawn pulls out and collapses on top of me.
He untied the tie from my wrists and I immediately touch his face. He gives me a weak smirk before leaning up to kiss me. I run my fingers through his sweaty and somewhat curly hair as he rests on top of me.
“Do me a favor?” I say.
“What?” He replies.
“On the next photo shoot you have, steal another tie.”
“Say the magic word.”
I playfully roll my eyes before bringing my mouth to his ear, “Papí.”
The video, directed by Yoann Lemooine (aka Woodkid) no less, centres on young Harry wondering through a series of dramatic landscapes like an indie Heathcliff before taking flight mid song, his blue military jacket fluttering behind him as he soars over cracky rocks and misty forests. As the song reaches its conclusion, the sun begins to set and Harry screams the final bars of the song into it’s dying light before floating off into the stance. It’s a lot, but what else did you expect from pop’s apparent new lord and saviour?
Alec glanced down at the phone in his hand and then back at the thin gray figure in front of him.
“He’s here,” he said. He raised his voice. “Magnus! Magnus, come on out.”
Magnus strode through the gate. The High Warlock was wearing black leather pants, a belt with a buckle in the shape of a jeweled M, and a cobalt-blue Prussian military jacket open over a white lace shirt. He shimmered with layers of glitter. His gaze rested for a moment on Alec’s face with amusement and a hint of something else before moving on to Jace, prone on the grass.
“Is he dead?” he inquired. “He looks dead.”
“No,” snapped Maryse. “He’s not dead.”
“Have you checked? I could kick him if you want.” Magnus moved toward Jace.
“Cassandra Clare - Mortal Instruments 2 - City of Ashes”
Right. I love the
Shadowhunters casting. I know that not everything is going to translate from
the books into the tv-series. I accept that some things just simply cannot be
helped - height differences, animals are difficult on set’s, contact lenses are a pain, not all storylines and characters are going to make the cut, chipping
Dominic Sherwood’s upper incisor to get that perfectly endearing Jace smile is slightly unreasonable-
(I know some of you
have though about it *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*),
- and obviously no human will
ever truly accomplish the whole blazing avenging angel or mysterious downworlder
And this may seem
ridiculous. (Okay it is kind of ridiculous but I can’t help it…)
Some things are not that hard to do and I just wish that they had stayed truer to the overall ‘look’ of our beloved Magnus! Yep. There it is. I’m ridiculous.
I know we’ve only seen
footage from a few episodes and don’t get me wrong, Harry Shum JR looks great
and, from what I’ve seen from the photos and
sneak-peaks, tv-show Magnus’s clothes are really cool and exotic
but come on- Where’s the fun?
Where is the ‘yes I am
the high warlock of brooklyn and of course I’m wearing black silk pyjama pants
with a pattern of tigers and flamingos dancing,’…?
I love Magnus’s style and when he strides into the story I can’t wait for the description of what he’s wearing because it nearly always makes me laugh and love him a little more each time. This old and unimaginably
powerful warlock has seen and done so much and yet he still hasn’t lost that youthful joy, that spice for life and adventure.
Magnus Bane is notjust mysterious, wise and fierce - he’s mysterious yet outrageous, wise yet daft and fierce yet FABULOUS! I just hope the writers and designers get that this is ‘someone who looks like a gay sonic the hedgehog and dresses like the child catcher form chitty chitty bang bang’ and we LOVE HIM FOR IT.
I want the sassy sequinned t-shirts. I want the cobalt-blue Prussian
military jacket. The insane beret. The sparkling matador coat. The venetian cloak and gondolier’s hat.
I WANT THE CANARY YELLOW PANTS AND GREEN ALIEN SLIPPERS!
Even the Inquisitor’s eyebrows shot up when Magnus strode through the gate. The High Warlock was wearing black leather pants, a belt with a buckle in the shape of a jeweled M, and a cobalt-blue Prussian military jacket open over a white lace shirt. He shimmered with layers of glitter. His gaze rested for a moment on Alec’s face with amusement and a hint of something else before moving on to Jace, prone on the ground.
“Is he dead?” he inquired. “He looks dead.”
“No,” snapped Maryse. “He’s not dead.”
“Have you checked? I could kick him if you want.” Magnus moved toward Jace.
“Stop that!” the Inquisitor snapped, sounding like Clary’s third-grade teacher demanding that she stop doodling on her desk with a marker.
Alec’s voice was tight.
“I thought he could go to Magnus.” Isabelle made a sound somewhere between a sneeze and a cough.
“Maybe you should ask him,” Alec suggested. The Inquisitor smiled her razor smile. “By all means. Where is he?” Alec glanced down at the phone in his hand and then back at the thin gray figure in front of
him. “He’s here,” he said. He raised his voice. “Magnus! Magnus, come on out.” Even the Inquisitor’s eyebrows shot up when Magnus strode through the gate. The High
Warlock was wearing black leather pants, a belt with a buckle in the shape of a jeweled M, and a
cobalt-blue Prussian military jacket open over a white lace shirt. He shimmered with layers of
glitter. His gaze rested for a moment on Alec’s face with amusement and a hint of something else
before moving on to Jace, prone on the grass. “Is he dead?” he inquired. “He looks dead.” "No,“ snapped Maryse. "He’s not dead.” "Have you checked? I could kick him if you want.“ Magnus moved toward Jace.
-The Mortal Instruments: City of Ashes, Cassandra Clare