tuxedo tail

So ok..

we’ve seen drawings of Marinette dressed as Sailor Moon, Adrien dress as Tuxedo Mask, and I know there is one of Usagi somewhere as Ladybug but is there one of Mamoru dressed as Chat Noir? If not, someone needs to get on that. Do you realize how perfect that’d be? We already know he’s a cat lover. Just imagine how happy he’d be with Chat’s ears and tail. 😂




I feel a bit sick tonight but i must finish this before i go to bed :’3

this is inspired by the talk i had with @eriboook in twitter about FT x SailorMoon XD

it’s kinda fun to draw lol

also special thank to @angrycucco for the watermark idea lol

it’s easier this way :D



The day she was scheduled to visit the studio for a meeting, I got inspired and draped an original gown. Though, when she walked in she immediately fell in love with our midnight blue gown. I wanted something with incredible stage presence and the exaggerated tuxedo tails in the back went perfectly with her orchestra setting. We tried the gown on and it was perfect. I loved how the navy  color worked against her skin. I wanted to shock people with the edgy elegance of my creations and her power as a performer. - Zac Posen


That darn thing attached to my butt is bugging me again!

The Lost Boys are all orphans who live in an abandoned Victorian hotel that was sunken into the ground from the San Andreas fault line. We wear the clothes that the people left back in 1806 when the building went down. I have this old man’s tuxedo tail coat that has leather, chains, pins, spikes and things.
—  Brooke McCarter, talking about The Lost Boys and his character, Paul.
burning in the fire of a thousand smiles :: epilogue

thanks for reading and enjoying, this has been a lot of fun. and hey, there may be more one day, never say never. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6.

As the black Rolls-Royce purred to a halt and the noise of the crowd sounded strangely distant, almost underwater, Emma took a deep breath, cramming her heart and stomach back into place and shooting a glance at her father for support. Decked out in tuxedo and tails, white silk vest and watch chain, a boutonniere pinned to his lapel and a top hat sitting carefully on the seat between them so as not to be crushed, Prince David looked almost as nervous as his daughter, but as she presented herself for one final last-second check, his expression lightened into a helpless, wondering smile. “You are so beautiful, sweetheart,” he said hoarsely. “Just so beautiful.”

Considering the amount of time, effort, fittings, trials, and tears that had gone into making this, Emma certainly damn well hoped so. The sculpted lace bodice, the full satin skirt, the tiara and the jewelry and the sixteen-foot-long veil, the sheer sleeves and the hand-beaded pumps, the bouquet of lily and baby’s breath and snowdrops. She knew each part of it by heart, but made sure it was in place nonetheless, having a sudden memory of her entrance down the staircase that night at the benefit gala which had started it all. However anxious she had been then, she was a hundred times more so now – and yet, had never been so certain, so deeply and utterly ready.

“All right,” she said, and sucked in another breath for good measure. Smiled a bit unsteadily, determined not to ruin her makeup. “Let’s do this.”

David gestured to the waiting footmen, who opened the car doors, and there was a communal roar from the crowd outside the Abbey as Emma emerged, thousands of phone screens flashing and snapping. Britain had been in Royal Wedding fervor for weeks; the diehards had staked out their places days in advance, and were brandishing Union Jacks, posters with Emma and Killian’s faces on them, glitter-glue crowns, and basically every kind of useless commemorative tat the country’s souvenir mills had been cranking out: porcelain plates, collectible coins, custom Barbie dolls, window decals, keychains, T-shirts, and more. If you were skint broke but just had to have something to mark the occasion, there were 99p sticker sheets and £1.99 paper masks of the royal bride and groom. These were his last few minutes as Mr Killian Jones, private citizen; henceforward he would officially be styled His Royal Highness The Duke of Cornwall. “Prince of Wales” was technically among his new titles, but as he would be only the spouse of the heir presumptive and not it himself, he would not use it in public.

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Onyx chases her tail.