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Now, this look is very easy. All you will need is twenty-four kinds of real horsehair brushes, all of which you can buy at Chanel for about five-hundred dollars, which is such a bargain for something so useful. Anyways, let's take out our palette of pure 24 karat gold flake eyeshadow and get started!
i keep laughing because golden boy gavin and vagabond ryan absolutely have equally stupid aesthetics but theres no way either of them would ever own up to it? like yeah gavins wearing actual gold flakes but ryan you have a skull manscapped onto your chest so who’s really being ridiculous here.
Silver is symbolic of the moon and goddess, and commonly signifies female energy. The use of the metal or colour silver works well in spells and rituals that involve protection, reflecting or neutralizing negativity, emotional balancing, dreams, and psychic strength,ability and awareness.
Gold is the sun metal and generally signifies male energy. The colour or metal gold is most effective when used in spells and rituals that involve the attraction of prosperity, fortune and wealth, as well as power (magical/financial), protection, health, growth, and wisdom.
I wanna hear about angels
Not the skinny white angels with blonde hair and a perfect track record
I wanna hear about tan angels, with glowing skin
angels that have chocolate eyes wtith gold flakes and amber undertones
Angels with full figures considered lustful
Angels who run with the wrong crowd, who do risky things, just to feel the adrenaline pumping through them like ichor on a cold night
On Off Topic Gavin talks about doing a shot with gold flakes in it, and RL Gavin is of course like listen to this utterly ridiculous thing i did, but FAHC Gavin would just be like yes. This is the acceptable way to consume liquor, from now on only this.
FAHC Gavin who carries his own real gold flakes, sprinkles them into anything from obscenely expensive cocktails to $4 rotgut with equal enthusiasm. It’s a quirk the rest of the crew don’t even blink at anymore but it has the other patrons of whatever dive bar they’ve ended up in watching on with fascinated disgust. Has any unfortunate enough not to know who they are looking at turning up face down in a gutter come dawn, greed pulling them in like moths; ignorantly mistaking Gavin for pretty flame rather than raging inferno.
When Los Santos’ finest manage to grab a Fake they’d pin them with any infraction they can manage, desperately trying to make anything stick in an attempt to finally reclaim the city. When frisking Free reveals a handful of little black baggies they think they’ve finally got him for something, concrete evidence he can’t possibly wiggle his way out of, until of course the bags reveal not white powder but fine gold leaf. It’s as unexpectedly absurd as it is devastating, a blow made no easier by the smug amusement radiating off Gavin, lounging in the harsh metal chair like it’s a throne, golden from his hair to his accessories to the flecks still on those sharp white teeth.