#fierce and looking fantastic in that red dress

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 68: Oliver's Speakeasy

Previous > Masterlist

tw: mind control, blood drinking

October 1925

"You have to relax a bit, Oliver," said Roger. "If you're holding your breath while I lace your corset, it will be dreadfully uncomfortable."

Oliver let out his breath and tried to calm his nerves. "I'm not used to corsets. It's not anything I thought I'd ever have to wear."

"That's how I felt as well, but vampires do love their low-necked ballgowns on men and women alike. It's another thing I've become accustomed to -- out of all the adjustments that come with being a vampire's thrall, dresses are minor."

"That's true enough. I can only hope I look acceptable in it."

"Given how your master looks at you, I believe he would think you're fetching in a flour sack." He began to lace the corset tight. "You're quite devoted to pleasing your master, aren't you?"

"I find that I can't help myself. Isn't that the effect of the enthrallment?"

"One effect, certainly. Although after twenty years, I hardly know where the enthrallment ends and I begin."

Oliver nodded. He didn't need twenty years to feel that way. He already felt as though he hardly remembered himself before enthrallment. "You seem very comfortable with your master."

"Comfortable, yes, you could say that. It's my duty to take care of him, and it's an easier life if you keep a sense of humor about it. I suspect I've become fond of him apart from the enthrallment. And I know my master appreciates my efforts." He finished lacing the corset and put a hand on Oliver's head. "Your master appreciates you as well, I'm sure of it."

"I can only hope so."

Roger helped him put the gown on, a turn-of-the-century style done in midnight blue with embroidered roses, one tailored to his exact measurements. He then fastened a delicate gold chain adorned with sapphires around his bare neck. Oliver stared into the mirror. He was dressed like a princess or a wealthy heiress, looking nothing like himself. It was a stark reminder of how much he'd been changed since the night of his capture.

It had only been weeks, and yet his former life was already receding away from him, never to return.

Oliver then assisted Roger in donning his own gown, an ostentatious red number that had very clearly been chosen by Roger's master and not Roger himself, and they made their way up the stairs to their masters' chamber to help them prepare as well.

Alexander and Fitz were lounging on the bed when they entered, but they both stood up, wide-eyed, at the sight of the thralls. Fitz whistled. "Fantastic. Lex, are you sure you want Oliver to go out like that? He's going to turn every head in the place."

"Let heads turn. If they touch my thrall, they'll pay the price," said Lex with startling fierceness. "It's no different from when I went out with you."

Fitz laughed. "Somehow, I don't think Oliver will end up grievously insulting and humiliating a vampire in front of an entire ballroom."

"It's almost a pity," said Alexander thoughtfully. "Come here, Oliver, I wish to take a better look at you."

Oliver stepped closer to his master, who took him by the shoulders and swept over him with an appraising eye. He tilted Oliver this way and that, and took his chin in his hand to meet his gaze. Oliver felt just like that fateful night in the auction house, when Alexander had decided to make his purchase, when Oliver first felt his hunger and desire. Even though his master had taken blood the night before, the undercurrent of hunger and desire was still pressing down on him.

"Master, hold still while I fasten your cummerbund," said Roger, who had started to assist Fitz while Oliver was losing himself in his master. "It's difficult to fasten when you squirm."

"You should be helping me with my attire as well," said Alexander, running his fingers down the side of Oliver's face.

"Yes, sir." Oliver felt as if he were in a dream as he began to help his master prepare, slipping the neatly pressed coat on his shoulders and tying a neat bow around his neck.

Just as the vampires were finishing their preparations, the doorbell buzzed, and Oliver ran down the stairs to answer, careful not to trip in his embroidered slippers. He flung the door open to Miss Lily, dressed in a floral pink frock and tall pink heels, the sort of fashionable thing Oliver saw in department store windows. Behind her, Miriam, also fashionably dressed, poked her head out shyly.

"Oh, Oliver, you look positively dashing! This dress suits you so well," said Miss Lily, cradling his chin in her hands. "Where are your masters? They had better be ready, because I don't want to leave the carriage waiting long."

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my bad luck charm," said Fitz, hanging over the balcony.

"Oh, Fitz, dear, thank goodness you're here. Lex hasn't cracked so much as a smile since you last left, even with this delightful thrall at his beck and call. You'd better have relieved him of his malaise."

"You want me to relieve Lex of his malaise?" said Fitz, sauntering down the stairs. "You might as well ask me to remove the water from the ocean."

"I do see your point," said Miss Lily. She leaned in towards him and whispered conspiratorially. "Has he told you about his plan?"

"His daft plan to get all of us tortured? Naturally. And I support it, of course, because I'm as daft as he is."

Miss Lily sighed. "Of course you do. I expected nothing less."

"My ears are burning. I think you must be talking about me." Lex was walking down the stairs now, with Roger following behind.

"Oh, Roger!" Miss Lily went to him and squeezed him, a fondly dazed smile appearing on the thrall's face. "I do hope you've been well."

"Never better, Miss Lily," he said dreamily. Oliver wondered if Roger had been enthralled by Miss Lily as well. And on that note…

"You look lovely, Miriam," he said politely to the thrall, who was clinging to her madam and looking perhaps a bit uneasy at all the commotion.

Her face lit up in a smile. "Oh, thank you, Oliver. You look very handsome as well!"

Miss Lily clapped her hands. "Now that we've got everyone here, let's all pile into the carriage, shall we?"

Next thing Oliver knew, he was crammed in next to Alexander in the carriage, which was only just barely large enough to hold all six people.

"I've been looking forward to this," said Fitz, shamelessly snuggled up to Alexander's other side. "It's been ages since we've been out to the Tiger's Eye."

"Lex and I were there not so long ago," said Miss Lily. "If Lex gets as drunk tonight as he was then, you're going to have to help me carry him home, Fitz."

"Oh, with pleasure."

"If I might ask, sirs…" said Oliver, fidgeting with his dress hem, "What sort of place is the Tiger's Eye?"

"Why, it's a social club for vampires and their thralls. One of the most popular in the city," said Miss Lily. "Everyone who is everyone puts in an appearance now and then, even recluses like your master, and we all bring our favorite thralls, all dressed to the nines. There's entertainment and stiff drinks and even h'ors doeuvres for the thralls. You'll just love it."

Oliver nodded, far less certain than Miss Lily that he would love it. He'd never frequented bars and clubs, finding them loud and awkward at best. At least he wouldn't be going there alone, but could stay by his master's side.

"Make sure you stay close to me," said Alexander, as though he read Oliver's mind. "Don't entertain any vampires who show an interest in you."

"Yes, sir."

They stepped out of the carriage in front of an unassuming restaurant that seemed as ordinary as any other. Clearly human patrons could be seen through the window, enjoying Italian dishes. "This is the Tiger's Eye, sir?" asked Oliver.

"It's in the basement. The restaurant is simply a front run by the same vampire who owns the club." Alexander pulled him close as they walked to the entrance. "It offers cover, and brings in human money and human blood."

"I see, sir."

A mouth-watering scent filled his nose as the group stood before the maitre'd's station. Miss Lily moved a flap on her dress to reveal a ruby pin, and the maitre'd waved them to the back. They all descended a rickety spiral staircase, the sound of music and laughter growing louder.

The Tiger's Eye club was much larger than the restaurant upstairs. All of the tables were low, with the patrons sitting on piles of cushions. While some of the crowd were wearing contemporary fashions, like Miss Lily and Fitz, a good number of them were dressed in formalwear from decades gone by, much like Oliver's ballgown. More alarmingly, some of the patrons were dressed in very little, as though they were burlesque dancers. It didn't take long for him to realize that these were thralls, kneeling on the cushions and gazing up at their vampiric masters with adoration.

There was a stage at the opposite end of the club where a jazz quartet was playing. Waitstaff flitted among the tables, and like many of the thralls, their outfits were absolutely scandalous. Their glassy eyes and sleepwalking mannerisms indicated that they were heavily enthralled as well, and there were prominent bite scars on their necks and shoulders. In one of the back corners, a well-dressed vampire was drinking from a waitress.

With Alexander, it was sometimes easy for Oliver to forget what sort of situation he was in, and feel like he was perhaps an ordinary servant to an eccentric rich man instead of thrall to a vampire. His current surroundings made him intensely aware of his situation, surrounded by potentially hostile vampires and semi-conscious human slaves. Alexander, of course, wasn't distressed at all, taking in the scene with a smile on his face.

All vampires are dangerous -- that's what Roger had told him.

Nonetheless, Alexander was by far Oliver's greatest chance at safety, and so he shamelessly clung to his master as they walked through the club. He could feel the eyes of leering vampires on him and see their hungry grins. His master's grip tightened. It seemed like an eternity before they arrived at a table with a "reserved" placard on it.

The vampires arranged the cushions and made themselves comfortable, Alexander beckoning Oliver close and pulling him halfway into his lap. Next to them, Fitz flopped over into Roger's lap as the latter sighed.

"The music's good tonight. Who's playing?" Fitz asked.

"They're regulars here. The trumpet player is an older vampire -- I've trained up a few of his thralls, and he has a great sense of humor. The others are all fledglings, more or less…"

Oliver found he couldn't really concentrate on what Lily was saying over the din of the crowd, deafened by the sound of his own heartbeat and blood rushing through his ears.

"Say there, I can't help but notice what an excellent thrall you've brought with you."

Oliver nearly jumped out of his skin. The vampire addressing Lex was a larger man in a checkered suit.

"Thank you," said Alexander with a hint of threat. "He's my most treasured possession." And Oliver's heart twisted to hear himself described that way.

"Where do you get a fine thrall like that? I'm new to the area, just moved from down south, and I'm looking for some fresh blood."

"Oh, then I'm the one you want to talk to," Miss Lily interjected. "I handle conditioning for all of the finest high-end auctions and private sales in the city. I can't promise you'll find one as good as Oliver here, as thralls like him are in short supply, but I'm sure I could help you find something to your taste."

Oliver felt Alexander's hold on him relax as the vampire in the checkered suit started to happily chatter to Miss Lily about thrall sales. He noticed that, in addition to Miriam sitting in her lap, Miss Lily was now surrounded by several other adoring thralls, draped contentedly against her shoulders and over her legs.

"Who are…?"

"The thralls Miss Lily conditions are often drawn to her," said Alexander, toying with Oliver's hair. "This happens whenever we go to a place openly frequented by vampires."

"Good evening, sirs."

Oliver looked up to see a waitress dressed in frills that barely covered her most private areas, her eyes dull and glassy. He blushed and looked away.

"We have many top quality spirits available, as well as an assortment of blood on tap, including rare specialties. If there's anything I can fetch for you, esteemed sirs, it would be my pleasure to serve."

Alexander didn't seem the slightest bit put off by the waitress's plight. "I'll have a dry red, whatever's recommended."

"Certainly, sir."

"A light white wine for me," said Miss Lily.

"I'll take a sidecar," added Fitz. "And whatever beer you have on tap for my thrall."

"Right away, sirs."

"I can order something for you when she returns with the wine," said Alexander, and Oliver realized that the waitress had, of course, only asked the vampires what they wanted.

Oliver looked up again now that the waitress had walked away. "I don't drink, sir, but if I could have some tea, that would --" His eyes went wide and his breath caught in his throat. No, it couldn't be. But it certainly was.

While Oliver had been busy trying not to stare at the waitress, another thrall had arrived to cuddle Miss Lily. She was wearing a highly fashionable teal evening dress with elaborate gray embroidery and fringe, her neck and wrists were dripping with gold, and her red hair was done up in a curled bob. She looked nothing at all like the last time Oliver had seen her, but Oliver knew he'd never forget that face, her fear burned into his mind.

"Emily!"

Previous > Masterlist

Next week: Emily!

Oliver last saw Emily all the way back in the auction house.

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[stedes-tarty-pink-robe]

Damn, Nadja should get to fight more often. Seeing her tear through that medical staff like tissue paper was magnificent. It's even sweeter that she did it to protect the guy who spent multiple seasons protecting her. As much as she craps on him, Guillermo really is a part of her family, and no one fucks with her family.

[anonymousewrites]

Adolescent Antichrist (Book 5) Chapter Seven

Father Figure! Lucifer x Teen! Reader

Demon! OC x Reader

Chapter Seven: Oblivious Gays

Summary: (Y/N) and their friends go to homecoming.

            “You look fantastic, all of you,” said Lucifer, taking probably hundreds of photos of (Y/N) and their friends all dressed up for homecoming.

            “Thanks, Dad,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            They wore a black binder beneath a sheer top stitched with roses paired with a red suit jacket and black pants. Red heeled combat boots completed the outfit with black designs painted on.

            “So, remember, everyone, have a good time but don’t do anything I’d do,” said Lucifer cheerfully.

            “Birdie keeps us in line,” laughed Em. They wore an olive-green suit, but (Y/N) had attached bronze metal leaves around her neck and lapels.

            “But we’ll keep your advice in mind,” said Leon, nodding. He wore navy pants, a white shirt, and a jacket that extended into a billowing tail like smoke.

            “Still, we’re definitely gonna have a bit of fun,” laughed Marcel, hugging Leon’s arm excitedly. He wore a billowing blue shirt, the same hue as Leon’s coattails, and silver halter-styled jewelry.

            “Don’t give poor (Y/N) a heart attack, they’ve been doing enough,” said Olive, shaking her head at Marcel. She wore a pink dress stitched in an old-fashioned style.

            “Yes, (Y/N) has been very strong in the past few months,” said Lucifer, smiling at (Y/N).

            They shrugged and looked away, embarrassed. “I’m fine.”

            “Fine? You took on an angel. Twice. You’re better than fine, you’re awesome in my eyes,” said Noa, looping an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders affectionately. They wore a white jacket and pants with a corset top underneath.

            “2-0!” cheered Olive.

            “I’m not aiming for a third,” said (Y/N), chuckling.

            “Please don’t,” said Em protectively.

            “That wouldn’t be the best idea,” agreed Leon.

            “Hopefully, my brother will retreat for good,” said Lucifer. “But I will handle the problem if he returns.” He smiled. He would defend (Y/N) as fiercely as they had done for him. He clapped. “But for tonight, enjoy yourselves and don’t think about such sour things!”

            “Good idea,” said Noa, clapping Leon and Em on the shoulders. “Come on, sour-pusses, let’s go and party.”

            “Bye, Dad,” said (Y/N), waving as Olive pulled them out.

            “Have a nice night,” said Lucifer, raising a hand in a wave. After everything they’d gone through, they deserved a nice time.

l

            “By the way, (Y/N), your designs turned out amazing,” said Olive, twirling.

            “Yes, your work is always impressive,” said Leon. “But your work for today is better than ever.”

            “I finally had some inspiration,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “We’re glad to have you back,” said Em, nudging them. “What would we do without the creativity and vivacity of our Birdie?”

            “I think you mean ‘sass’ and ‘bull-headedness,’ ” teased Marcel.

            “Ha-ha,” said (Y/N) sarcastically. “Go and dance if you’re going to be mean.”

            “Just telling the truth,” chirped Marcel. He grinned. “But I do want to dance. Leon?” He extended a hand.

            Leon glanced at it and nodded. He rose and took Marcel’s hand. Marcel happily dragged him away to the dance floor as “Murder on the Dancefloor” began to play.

            “Not much of a romantic song,” said Olive.

            “They’ll make do,” said Noa, smiling.

            “They have been spending a lot of time together, recently,” said Em.

            “More than usual,” agreed (Y/N). “I think Marcel kept asking Leon to help him study to flirt.”

            “Not that it worked,” laughed Noa. “Marcel came over to my place and threw himself on my bed to complain that they’d spend the entire day reviewing French conjugation.”

            “Was he trying to learn to flirt in Leon’s native language?” laughed Em.

            “That plan backfired,” said (Y/N), chuckling.

            “Not that anyone here can flirt any better,” said Olive.

            Em turned red, and (Y/N) crossed their arms. Noa cocked their head.

            “Huh?” said all three.

            “Unbelievable,” muttered Olive. She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Come on, you three, no sense in sitting here moping. Let’s have a good time.”

            “That’s what Lucifer would do, though,” joked Noa.

            “Taking his example every once in a while isn’t so bad,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “How do you think they turned out so cool?” said Em. “Only a crazy guy like Lucifer could raise (Y/N).”

            “That was less of a compliment than you thought it was,” laughed (Y/N), but they headed towards the dance floor with Em, Olive, and Noa.

            “Maybe not,” teased Em, grabbing (Y/N)’s hand and dragging them to dance.

            As the music played, the group danced and jumped, singing wildly along with the songs. It was nice to have a free moment with no stress or pressure, just fun and friends. After everything they’d been involved in, it was nice for (Y/N) to have a moment of peace. They were with their closest friends and their crush, swinging around to a great song with a smile on their face. It was fantastic.

            They wished the moment would never end.

l

            “Hey, guys?” called Noa over the music, which had switched to “Dance the Night.”

            “What?” responded Olive.

            “Marcel and Leon aren’t here,” said Noa. “I don’t know when they left.”

            “Let’s go and look for them,” said Em.

            “What if they’re just…having a good time?” said (Y/N).

            Everyone stared at them.

            “Yeah, no, I’m a busybody, let’s go,” said (Y/N).

            Em laughed and led the group into the hall to try to find Marcel and Leon. They peered around, but all they found were some cliques uninterested in dancing hanging out.

            “Oh, hey, guys, we thought you were still dancing,” said Marcel, rounding a corner and seeing them. Leon stood beside him, and they held his hand.

            “We were. We didn’t realize you two had left,” said Olive. “But we shouldn’t have worried.” She grinned.

            Leon coughed and looked away shyly. “We were just having a discussion.”

            “Uh-huh, yeah,” said Noa, smirking.

            “Good for you guys,” said Em, grinning.

            “At least you two won’t be pining after one another again,” said (Y/N).

            “And Marcel doesn’t have to ask for you to teach him French to try to flirt,” joked Noa.

            Leon blinked. “That was an attempt to flirt? I thought he was failing French.”

            Marcel sighed. “You beautiful, oblivious idiot.”

            “I thought you said you liked me?” said Leon.

            “I absolutely do,” said Marcel, squeezing Leon’s hand. “Even if you’re the hardest person to flirt with.”

            “Oblivious gays,” said (Y/N), laughing. Still, that’s one couple down. They glanced at Olive and Noa. Hopefully those two will get a move on. They looked at Em. …I’m still a coward, so nope.

            It seemed (Y/N) was also an oblivious gay idiot who didn’t realize that Em asking them to a dance twice could be interpreted as interest rather than friend being kind.

l

            (Y/N) and Em waved at Noa.

            “Thanks for dropping us off,” said Em.

            “No problem,” said Noa, yawning.

            “Don’t fall asleep, you still have to take me home,” said Olive from the front seat next to them.

            “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get home safely,” said Noa, smiling.

            “Bye,” called (Y/N) as they drove away. They crossed their arms and looked at Em. “Well, this explains why Marcel drove himself.”

            “True, he knew he was making a move on Leon,” said Em, nodding. “So what do you think they’re up to now?”

            “Marcel always talked about seeing the stars, so maybe a park. That would be a cute post-homecoming date,” said (Y/N).

            “They’re going to be insufferably adorable now, aren’t they?” laughed Em as they walked inside.

            “Probably,” agreed (Y/N) in amusement, dodging around the people in Lux. “But who knows, maybe it’ll get Olive and Noa to confess to each other.”

            “They need to get a move on,” said Em. “It’s so obvious that it hurts.” Just like you not noticing my feelings for you.

            “Right? Noa was texting me like crazy yesterday about how they weren’t sure how to confess since Olive is always flitting around saying hi to people and her others friends at school during homecoming and parties where she knows people,” said (Y/N), shaking their head. “Noa isn’t sure how to get that social butterfly alone for a second.”

            “Olive is just as oblivious,” laughed Em. She held their phone. “She already texted me saying that she said she and Noa should go for a late-night drive before heading to bed and put on a gay love song and Noa is just singing along because it’s gay and not noticing Olive.”

            “Let me guess, Olive is just staring at them because they’re that handsome to her?” said (Y/N).

            “Yeah,” said Em, shaking their head and laughing. “Gay panic took over.”

            “I guess we’ll have to get them alone with the right atmosphere,” said (Y/N), stepping into the elevator.

            “What are you, a matchmaker?” said Em, pressing the button for the penthouse.

            “Just someone tired of everyone pining,” said (Y/N). “At least Marcel took charge.” They groaned. “Olive and Noa are at least doing really well, but Dad and Chloe are having trouble again.”

            “Michael’s fault?” said Em.

            “Probably goes back to him, yeah,” huffed (Y/N), crossing their arms.

            “Hey, relax, it’s like you always say, ‘it’ll work out,’ ” said Em, reaching out and touching (Y/N)’s arm.

            “I’m usually bullshitting that stuff,” said (Y/N).

            “And yet you’re always right,” said Em. Her other arm went out and she held (Y/N) firmly by the arms. “Chloe needs time to process being given immunity to Lucifer’s gift from God. Sound like a familiar situation?”

            “…It sounds like her finding out he’s the devil,” admitted (Y/N).

            “Exactly. And that just took time to process,” said Em. “It’s going to be fine.” They squeezed (Y/N)’s arms comfortingly and retracted them as the doors to the penthouse opened.

            “I hope it works out soon,” said (Y/N). “I mean, I know they can’t be together since Lucifer has to return to Hell, but they both deserve to know about the other’s feelings. It’s clear they care about each other.”

            “As clear as our friends liking each other,” agreed Em.

            As clear as me liking you, thought (Y/N) and Em.

            (Y/N) cleared their throat. “Listen, Em, we keep talking about others and their relationships, yeah?”

            “We do,” said Em. “Because they’re idiots who just need to confess and be happy.”

            “Right,” said (Y/N), facing Em completely. “But I think there’s a few more people who need to be honest.”

            “Really?” said Em nervously. Am I about to be called out and rejected?!

            Okay. Okay, you can do this. If you’ve faced the Goddess of all creation, you can do this! “Em, listen, I think you’re really great. Really. You’re my best friend,” said (Y/N).

            “You’re my best friend, too,” said Em. They swallowed. Even if they were going to be just a friend to (Y/N), they deserved to know she cared. “And you are probably the best person I’ve ever met—even when you were a human.”

            (Y/N) smiled. “Yeah. Even when we fought, I always respected you. And that’s why I want to be honest. Emeranne, I—”

            “Hello, you two, did you have a good night?”

            Em and (Y/N) jumped as Lucifer appeared from his room with a wide smile. Em turned red and groaned, turning away. (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed, and their eyebrow twitched.

            Lucifer blinked, clueless to what he had interrupted. “Is everything alright?”

            (Y/N) turned to face him, and the shadows raised around them.

            “U-Uh, (Y/N)?” said Lucifer hesitantly.

            “You’re the most annoying parent I’ve ever met,” said (Y/N), the shadows lashing out around them as they stomped away.

            Lucifer looked at Em. “What did I do?”

            Em just groaned, still flustered, and buried their red face in their hands. So close!

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[fancyschmancyopinions]

HANNAH WADDINGHAM at the 2023 Olivier Awards on April 3rd 2023 wearing COSTARELLOS

The Olivier Awards might be the worst red carpet I’ve ever seen. Not from the looks, which honestly were extremely impressive all around, but instead the lighting and carpet. Carpet is a stretch since they’re literally walking in grass. This lighting is also just terrible.

However, Hannah still absolutely slayed this look. I really loved this dress in every aspect. It looked so regal and beautiful. I loved the deep purple color. The neckline was gorgeous and Hannah looked fierce. A fantastic outfit!

[i-did-not-mean-to]

October 31st

Author's choice : Halloween

Okkkkk here we go with the last one...In honour of the first character who's drawn me in and made me write fanfiction: Thorin II

A special thanks to @lathalea, @legolasbadass, @fizzyxcustard, @middleearthpixie, @linasofia and @laurfilijames who have been with me for long months since.

Also @lordoftherazzles, @frosticenow, and many many others who enjoy Thorin :D

If you like this premise, @middleearthpixie has a whole fic about canon-Thorin falling into the Modern World. It's really good...check it out! -> Where I Belong

Here we go for the last story in October. Thank you for having been with me; I love you all.

Words: 750

Warnings: innuendo

“I don’t see why I cannot wear my own clothes,” Thorin grumbled, “as they are apparently so ludicrous.”

You wrinkled your nose as you sought a good retort to this for he was not entirely wrong; upon finding a disoriented and considerably sour-faced stranger wandering around in your neighbourhood last spring, you had not hesitated to point out how incongruous and absurd his heavy coat and sharp-looking sword were in this part of town. 

If only you had known then what you knew now, but there was no use in crying over spilt milk or careless comments carried away by the nightly mists.

It had only been after several drinks and many a confusing hour that you had found out that he had found himself indeed not only in the wrong locality or city but in the wrong universe entirely. 

Since that confusing night – there had been talk of a dragon, a hoard of gold, and other rather fantastical things – Thorin, who imagined himself to be the long-lost heir of some imaginary kingdom, had been your guest and lover in the small one-bedroom-apartment you called your own realm.

Weeks bled into months and, as he seemed rather interested in the customs and habits of the inhabitants of your world, you had decided to take him to a Halloween party.

Unfortunately, Thorin did neither understand nor like the idea of dressing up as someone or something else and had turned rather petulant when you had presented him with a fluffy wolf-jumpsuit.

He was bulky and broad and, short of letting him leave bare-chested in nothing but a loincloth, you had not come up with any better ideas as most costumes that were for sale in the tiny shop down the street would not have accommodated his prodigiously broad shoulders and sturdy thighs.

“Come on,” you coaxed, wrapping your arms around his midriff tenderly and resting your head on his shoulder gently, “you’ll look fierce.”

“What is that even supposed to be?” he asked with a hint of humour in his voice as he took the costume from you and fingered the cheap fabric disapprovingly.

“It’s a wolf,” you explained, even though you had to admit that the likeness was not a very good one.

Before Thorin could launch into a long description of birds and beasts in his world, you held up your hand and swirled it suggestively to signify that you’d be willing to listen to him while he was putting on the costume.

The red cape draped around your own shoulders billowed as you walked over to the mirror to check your Red Riding Hood costume one last time.

“Why are you a little girl?” Thorin asked while tugging off his boots to step into his own disguise.

“It’s a long story,” you laughed, “but suffice it to say that the little girl will be eaten by the wolf!”

“I’d eat you all right!” 

His words made a shiver race down your spine and so you forewent the pleasure of letting him know how the story ended for the wolf; you had already proven that you could rewrite a story and you were not about to stop now.

It was not entirely clear to you why it mattered so much to you that he’d accompany you to the small gathering in an abandoned warehouse, but – after so many years of heartbreak and loneliness – you finally felt like yourself again and you desperately yearned to take the little miracle that had been granted to you into the world.

A part of you was afraid that Thorin and all his tender love and unyielding support would just dissolve and vanish once the clock struck midnight but another, stronger and more adventurous, part needed to check whether the magic that had painted your grey and drab life in rainbow colours again would withstand the cold gleam of the moon and the pounding bass of bad music.

“As my lady commands,” Thorin groaned and stepped into the monstrosity as if into battle.

“You know,” he added slyly as he pressed a quick, possessive kiss onto your lips, “where I come from, our foes ride wolf-like creatures.”

Giggling, you allowed him to lift you onto his back, slinging your arms around his thick neck and breathing in the warm, seductive fragrance of his long, wavy hair.

“Carry me away, my noble steed,” you cheered, deciding that an approximation of a wolf was a thousand times better and more promising than an enchanted pumpkin anyway.

@fellowshipofthefics: Here we are...the very last of the month. Thank you for the lovely prompts and sorry for the spam!

Thank you again for everyone having read any of these stories...

Lots of love from me ❤️‍🔥

-> Masterlist

[slightlydensedragons]

Shadow Domain dragons are anything but extraordinarily hardy, and the very same goes for DuskAwakening's troupe of dragons; who's home might look shambled and messy, but I don't think they would prefer it any other way. A collection of odd ends and hardships, these are just some of the few who piqued my interest; and let me tell you, a lot of it was piqued.

Now you cannot tell me that when you look at Sarah here, that she doesn't just scream "FRUIT". My initial thought was dragonfruit, and then strawberry. And now I'm just happy she resembles both in my head and hery appeal is unmatched. The greens hidden behind the plethora of garnished red is just, amazing in it's own right. It is honestly hard to look away from her. And her tidbit of lore couldn't help but make me chuckle. A table of mismatched legs, what a treat to read.

Throw caution to the wind when you look upon this brightly coloured dragon, for there could possibly be no wrong when Neon is present, right? The bright colours don't scream warning at all, that you're in for trouble if you happen to step out of line when in his company. Certainly not the trait of poisonous frogs... Yeah no, you're right. It's probably best to stay away from him, he looks like he'd be more trouble than he's worth. And yet here he is, looking well dressed for his appearance and a real looker of a dragon. It's always the brightly coloured ones that are dangerous for being beautiful.

Nothing could have stopped me from sticking every Aether in their lair in this review, but I stuck with the one that made sense. And had lore that had been written recently. Araneo may be small now, but that should not deter the idea that when he ages, he's a threat later. My love for his purple tones and tints is matched only for my love that he has arcane primal eyes, which suit him amazingly well. I'm sure he will be a fine predator when he's older, provided there's paper wasps in the room.

The only dragon without lore that is present, Vesta is here purely for the aesthetic choice that a good fire rep dragon is just divine to witness. Were I not in Ice, I would have picked Fire as my home; something about the oranges and the warm reds just sings a sweet tune in my heart, and she nails the idea of a proud dragon from her home. Iri Chartreuse does her something so fiercely, that it just seals the deal in some fantastic sort of way!

[oathkeeperoathbreaker]

A Clash of Crowns

The ancient crown of the Kings of Winter had been lost three centuries ago, yielded up to Aegon the Conqueror when Torrhen Stark knelt in submission. What Aegon had done with it no man could say. Lord Hoster’s smith had done his work well, and Robb’s crown looked much as the other was said to have looked in the tales told of the Stark kings of old; an open circlet of hammered bronze incised with the runes of the First Men, surmounted by nine black iron spikes wrought in the shape of longswords. Of gold and silver and gemstones, it had none; bronze and iron were the metals of winter, dark and strong to fight against the cold.

Catelyn I, A CLASH OF KINGS

Small wonder the lords gather around him with such fervor, she thought, he is Robert come again. Renly was handsome as Robert had been handsome; long of limb and broad of shoulder, with the same coal-black hair, fine and straight, the same deep blue eyes, the same easy smile. The slender circlet around his brows seemed to suit him well. It was soft gold, a ring of roses exquisitely wrought; at the front lifted a stag’s head of dark green jade, adorned with golden eyes and golden antlers.

Catelyn II, A CLASH OF KINGS

As he neared, she saw that Stannis wore a crown of red gold with points fashioned in the shape of flames. His belt was studded with garnets and yellow topaz, and a great square-cut ruby was set in the hilt of the sword he wore. Otherwise his dress was plain: studded leather jerkin over quilted doublet, worn boots, breeches of brown roughspun. The device on his sun-yellow banner showed a red heart surrounded by a blaze of orange fire. The crowned stag was there, yes . . . shrunken and enclosed within the heart.

Catelyn III, A CLASH OF KINGS

Trader captains brought lace from Myr, chests of saffron from Yi Ti, amber and dragonglass out of Asshai. Merchants offered bags of coin, silversmiths rings and chains. Pipers piped for her, tumblers tumbled, and jugglers juggled, while dyers draped her in colors she had never known existed. A pair of Jogos Nhai presented her with one of their striped zorses, black and white and fierce. A widow brought the dried corpse of her husband, covered with a crust of silvered leaves; such remnants were believed to have great power, especially if the deceased had been a sorcerer, as this one had. And the Tourmaline Brotherhood pressed on her a crown wrought in the shape of a three-headed dragon; the coils were yellow gold, the wings silver, the heads carved from jade, ivory, and onyx.

Daenerys III, A CLASH OF KINGS

[H]e donned his crown, a band of cold iron slim as a finger, set with heavy chunks of black diamond and nuggets of gold. It was misshapen and ugly, but there was no help for that. Mikken lay buried in the lichyard, and the new smith was capable of little more than nails and horseshoes. Theon consoled himself with the reminder that it was only a prince’s crown. He would have something much finer when he was crowned king.

Theon V, A CLASH OF KINGS

The denizens of Joffrey’s court had striven to outdo each other today. Jalabhar Xho was all in feathers, a plumage so fantastic and extravagant that he seemed like to take flight. The High Septon’s crystal crown fired rainbows through the air every time he moved his head. At the council table, Queen Cersei shimmered in a cloth-of-gold gown slashed in burgundy velvet, while beside her Varys fussed and simpered in a lilac brocade. Moon Boy and Ser Dontos wore new suits of motley, clean as a spring morning. Even Lady Tanda and her daughters looked pretty in matching gowns of turquoise silk and vair, and Lord Gyles was coughing into a square of scarlet silk trimmed with golden lace. King Joffrey sat above them all, amongst the blades and barbs of the Iron Throne. He was in crimson samite, his black mantle studded with rubies, on his head his heavy golden crown.

Sansa VIII, A CLASH OF KINGS

[radiant-flutterbun]

Lair review for Nyaseoki

First impressions: I know I’ve reviewed you before so not exactly ‘first’ impressions, but I find it interesting that you’ve sorted your lair by breed! I don’t see that often

Cora

An adorable little genone permababy! I absolutely love permababied nocturnes. They look so cute, like a puppy begging for a treat. You’ve got a nice color combo too! This little one is proof that platinum IS a good color, and I like that you used eye spots on the wings! That’s a gene I don’t see often on genones. Capsule was an excellent choice as the bright purple belly draws the eye to this cutie.

Ieremiya

This is a FANTASTIC aberration genone. Again very lucky color combo! It’s not a double, but it’s pretty darn close! Pharaoh and Sarcophagus were the perfect genes to create such a cool, vibrant yet spooky look for this dragon. I love the dark blacks the gens bring out, with the pops of vibrant pinks and purple. Very #aesthetic.

Endario

Another nicely gened genone! I love that you chose skink because the orange accent it brings out matches the dragon’s wings. I also like how you’ve dressed him with the bloodstone cascades and how the gems on it match his eyes.

Milan

This is a great aether! You’re so lucky to have hatched this from your clanbound egg! You hatched yourself a nice autumn dragon, and I think this is the first aether I’ve seen that looks good with Wish! I actually thought it was an accent at first! It looks so nice on him!

Peros

How do you hatch all these good looking genones? You got such a nice red range Plague dragon! On your birthday too? I’m in awe at your hatching power. I love the firebreather cape on him, as well as the mane and sword. He’s elegant yet still has a warrior’s spirit.

Avedis

I reviewed your custom progen last time, so now I will review your random! I love that you breed changed him to be a veil because they’re my favorite ancients. Even without the accent he looks so so pretty! Thistle, storm and gold go surprisingly well together, and flecks is perfect for him! With the accent he really shines like a gem, and all the moths are so cute!

Duvian

STUNNING dragon! Black and gold is a beautiful combo. This accent is fantastic on this dragon. They look so elegant and fierce. I wish I had more I could say, but this dragon takes my words away!

Lyoran

I love how you’ve used the Rockbreaker’s Ceremony accent on this guy! He looks so spooky and intimidating. His coloration looks like he’s in the middle of decaying. He’s an incredible undead fish dragon! Also the first Undertide I’ve ever reviewed!

Acedia

Abyss and veilspun were a match made in Heaven. I’m convinced now. I already loved abyss shell, but those purple streaks from abyss web? SO COOL. I had no idea abyss web did that. Why are there not more abyss web dragons out there? And thge accent you’ve chosen for this veil matches the purple streaks! I love it!

Salem

A spooky name for a spooky dragon! I love how you’ve dressed this guy up. All the NotN apparel rocks in my opinion and I love it when people mix the set together. The Conjuror’s apparel, Ghost Flame, and Sky Crystal look outstanding together.

[downwiththeficness]

A Need Unleashed Ch. 10

Summary: Horacio Carrillo was a man of control...until he wasn’t. His  carefully regimented life begins to change the second he scents Eva Moore, an unobtrusive omega whose secrets lead the two of them into dangerous territory. Horacio must protect her at all costs while battling a fierce need that threatens to bring him to his knees.  

Word Count: ~3900

Warnings: Graphic sex, tooth rotting fluff

Taglist:  @littleone65     @supersanelyromantic      @sistasarah-sallysaidso    

A/N: It is recommended that you read A Need So Great prior to reading this story. There is context and additional information in that fic that influences how this fic is understood. This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence, and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.

Previous Chapter   Read on AO3   Masterlist     Start at the beginning

Horacio hung up the phone and grabbed his tie from where it was draped over a dining room chair. As he pulled the strip of fabric around his raised collar, he allowed himself to feel a sense of satisfaction that their appointment in the states was finally confirmed. In a few days, Eva would provide the authorities all the information they needed to start an investigation. And then, they would move on with their lives.

He hadn’t forgotten about their argument. Even though neither of them brought it up again, Eva’s worries wandered around in Horacio’s mind in the quiet moments of his day. He didn’t like how they ended that particular disagreement, but couldn’t bring himself to admit what they both knew was true.

She was right.

Horacio hated to know he was wrong, but Eva was right. Despite the extra security, despite every precaution he might take, this job was going to kill him one day. There was a time not so long ago that such a realization wouldn’t bother him so much. Now, it was almost all he could think about.

Pulling the length of the tie through the knot, Horacio turned to a mirror and tightened it so that it hung down the middle of this chest. He took one step to the side and grabbed his coat, pulling it around his shoulders.

“Amorcita,” he called out, “Are you ready?”

Eva called out that she was, her heels tapping down the hall. He loved that sound, loved to hear her hurried approach, as if she couldn’t wait to get to him. It pained him to think   that he might lose that sound some day. Especially if it was a result of his own decisions.

She was wearing a dress that he recognized—red, fitted through the hips. He took in her curled hair, her slow smile, the way she slowed her stride so that he could keep looking. He reached for her, leaned down so that he could give a soft kiss. As usual, it was far too short and left him wanting.

“Maybe we should stay in,” he suggested as he nuzzled her neck.

How long had it been since he’d been inside her? The answer came to him without thought—far too long.

She squeezed his shoulders, “You promised me a night out.”

At the time, Horacio thought a night out was fantastic idea, but that was before he got to see her in this dress. Now, he was trying to come up with a way to convince her to stay. Almost immediately, he changed his mind. They had been talking about going out—just them—for weeks. The truth of the matter was that they both needed it.

“I did make a promise.”

“You did,” she replied with a sharp nod.

“Then, we should go before I decide to break that promise.”

Grinning wide, Eva followed him out to his truck. He helped her into the passenger’s seat and slipped behind the wheel. The drive was quiet, mostly because Horacio didn’t quite know where he was going. He focused on the street signs as they went by, the directions long since memorized.

Eventually, he found the place. It was small and high end. The patrons were visibly wealthy and the staff moved discreetly around the room. Unseen, unheard, unless they were needed. Horacio followed a waiter to a table, guiding Eva with a hand at the small of her back. He helped her to sit and picked up a menu.

Instinct had him scanning the crowd. They might be out on a date, but that wouldn’t stop an eager sicario from taking a shot at him. He clocked the emergency exit and the entrance to the storage room. If necessary, he could pull Eva from her seat and get her through the side door and into the truck in about half a minute. In the worst case, he could flip the table and use it as a shield for them both.

It wasn’t as if it would be the first time. He almost smiled when he recalled how they tumbled down to the floor of the bar with music and gunshots blaring all around. In retrospect, that was probably the night that sealed Horacio’s fate with her. He would never find another woman willing to throw herself atop him to save his life, nor would he ever find someone who could and would toss a lit bottle of liquor at a gunman.

Their order was brought to them quickly, two tumblers of whiskey swirling around a single cube of ice. He took the glass that was offered and slipped the tip into the waiter’s hand in the same movement.

“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

The question brought him back to the present. Eva was turning the glass between her hands, her expression guarded. He realized that he hadn’t said anything since they left the house and silently reprimanded himself for neglecting his date.

“I liked Spain,” he replied, “when I was assigned there.”

This was true. Spain was different from Colombia. A welcome difference, despite the fact that it took him away from the work he was so passionate about.

“Oh?” came her reply.

He nodded, “It was quieter there.”

“Quiet is good.”

Horacio didn’t fully agree, “Quiet is different. But, the work was steady and I didn’t get shot at half as much.”

Eva’s lips pursed in a knowing smile, “Half as much?”

He found himself smiling along with her, “At all. I didn’t get shot at, at all.”

She crossed her legs and the hem of her skirt lifted a bit to expose the soft skin of her thigh, “That’s a nice change of pace.”

It was.

“What about you?” he asked, with sincerity.

Eva didn’t even hesitate, “I’m right where I want to be.”

Startled, Horacio could only stare at her as he processed what she said. After everything that happened between them, Eva could have—probably should have—run away. She shouldn’t have even made it past that first meeting in the conference room.

And, here she sat.

He had no words to tell her how much he felt for her, so Horacio simply reached over and took her hand. They listened to the band for a while until he stood and tugged her along with him to the dance floor so that he could finally, finally, dance with her. The music was slow and sultry. He held Eva close, swaying from side to side.

She kissed him, her hands slipping beneath his jacket where they paused against the holster that secured a pair of guns on either side of his body. Horacio didn’t go out anywhere, not even to the mailbox, without them. After Zero, he made a silent promise that he wouldn’t be caught off guard again.

“Do you think you’ll need this?”

He did.

“This is a new location for me. I wanted to be safe.”

I wanted to keep you safe.

She seemed to think about it, then said, “Okay.”

Horacio couldn’t hold her gaze, but he wouldn’t apologize for it. No matter what happened, Eva’s safety was always going to be his top priority.

They danced until the end of the song and Horacio began to lead her back to their table only to find it occupied. His jaw clenched in annoyance. He didn’t want to make a scene in such a nice place, but their empty glasses were sitting right there. Eva must have sensed it because her hands were redirecting him towards the bar with a meaningful look.

Horacio went reluctantly with her, ordering for them when the bartender noticed their approach. Eva leaned into him, her fingers gliding up his arm and running over the buttons of his jacket. The firm touch was doing a remarkable job of distracting him from sending a stern glare in the direction of their table.

She was just this side of tipsy and he could faintly scent her excitement. Her hands lingered on his chest, caressing down to rest above his belt. He rested a forearm on the bar, glad to let Eva do as she liked.

It was still a new experience for him to let her touch him so openly. Horacio never thought he would like it so much. There wasn’t a single person in the room that didn’t know they were together. And, if they got close enough, the evidence of their nearly completed bond would be clear as day.

Casting his eyes around the room, he oriented himself once more to the closest exits and potential cover. The threat in the room was low, but the memory of Eva laying unconscious on the floor was still fresh enough that he couldn’t rule it out completely.

His attention narrowed when she laughed and drained her glass.

“What?” he asked.

Frustratingly, she shook her head, “Nothing, just a thought.”

Horacio leveled a look at her that he sometimes used during interrogations. It was at the same time patient and amused. A look that he could rely on to get the answers he wanted.

Eva shifted on her feet, moving close enough that their thighs brushed against one another, “I’ve been getting a few looks tonight. That’s all.”

What looks? He thought irritably.

Craning his neck, Horacio glanced around at the people nearby. None of them were paying much attention to them, too engrossed in their own conversations.

She caught his chin in the webbing between her thumb and forefinger, “Its fine. They’re not bad looks.”

His head cocked to the side in confusion, “What kind of looks are they?”

Biting her lip, she answered, “Envy, mostly.”

Confused further, Horacio frowned at her. Eva scoffed lightly and reached up to run the pad of her finger over the skin between his brows. He pulled away with a light laugh, the smile holding as she lifted onto her toes and kissed his cheek.

“You’re hot, sweetie. I’m bound to get a few evil eyes now and again.”

Oh.

Huffing, Horacio tried to hide his abashment with a quick retort, “Thank you, but I think you’re maybe just a little biased.”

She rolled her eyes, “I might be biased, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see that you’re objectively gorgeous.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes, “I think ‘gorgeous’ might be going a little far.”

Her expression sobered and her eyes narrowed. Horacio felt the slightest frisson of apprehension rattle his composure. He’d stepped right into a topic Eva was passionate about and it looked like she was prepared to defend her position.

“Should I describe it to you?” she asked, not waiting for his obvious refusal, “I’m gonna start at the top, okay?”

He froze. Only his eyes could move as she lifted a hand to touch his hair. The way she described his curls and how much she loved them was entirely new to him. As was the way she described his eyes. Horacio had never been told he had ‘expressive’ eyes.

Her fingers drifted down and over his scent gland. He swallowed down a soft groan she told him how affected she was by the way he smelled. No previous lover had ever talked about it in such frank terms. It left him wordless and vaguely panicked.

Horacio’s hands tightened on her waist, pulling her closer. He wanted a kiss—not just to kiss her, but also to stop the words spilling from her lips. The things she was saying and the way she was touching him made Horacio feel exposed. Vulnerable. As if he were stripped naked.

Every word Eva was saying went straight into the core of him. Each sentence was a physical caress that followed the long planes of his body—and that body was all too eager to respond.

They were in public.

Horacio berated himself silently. He couldn’t walk around with a hard on because his girlfriend gave him a compliment or two.

Eva dodged his lips easily, “And, let’s not even talk about this mouth. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve come just thinking about how deeply you kiss me—and where you kiss me.”

Inhaling sharply, Horacio’s blood raced through his veins, heating him through and through. He could hear the way she whined when her body was too sensitive to go on, could almost taste the slick that would cover his face and hand.

Eva traced the line of his throat and over his shoulders as she told him how much she loved it when he held her down and, suddenly, the memory of his rut was rushing forward. She’d said that same thing that night, too. Begged him to squeeze tighter.

He began to tremble, knew that Eva would go as far as he let her. Already, he was half hard, images of what he wanted to do to her weaving through his hazy thoughts. The room around him dimmed, all his focus on the omega standing in front of him.

When he said her name in warning, Eva made a soft hushing sound. With a complete disregard for where they were, she angled herself in front of him and cupped her palm over the fly of his slacks. His body arched forward even as his hand caught her wrist to keep her still.

Undeterred, Eva looped an arm around his waist, “Big Guy, all I have to do is look at you and I want to feel this inside me. I can guarantee that anyone who looks at you is going to feel the same way.”

God fucking damn it.

They were leaving. Right now.

Horacio grabbed her hand and strode quickly out of the restaurant. Eva skipped alongside him, all too proud of herself. He was going to make her regret baiting him, make her come so hard she wouldn’t be able to walk afterwards. She loved it when he held her down? He could do that. She loved it when he kissed her pussy? He could do that, too.

The trip home was equally as quiet as the trip to the bar. Horacio was glad for it—if she kept talking like she did in the bar, he might find an empty alley and live out the fantasy of fucking her in his truck. With a hand on her knee, he kept a tight grip on his actions so that he could focus on the road.

That grip loosened entirely the second he got her through the front door. He shoved her against it and kissed her hard. Teeth scraping, he drew her lower lip into his mouth as his hands began to work her dress up her sides with a singular intent. Balling the fabric in one fist, his fingers met heated skin.

A rough sound escaped him as he discovered that she was bare beneath her dress. He pushed his face into her neck, biting into his cheek as he gently massaged her folds. She was already wet—had she been so wet at the bar? His eyes closed against that thought. Horacio didn’t know what he would have done if he knew she was so deliciously slick in a crowd of people.

Her nails dug into his forearm, hips lifting to encourage him to move faster. Even after the way she teased him, Eva was unwilling to allow Horacio to do the same. Greedy, greedy omega. His kiss was a punishment. Adding pressure, Horacio eased his fingers inside her. Then, He began a hard rhythm that had her whining in his ear.

It didn’t take long for her to come with a hoarse shout. Her legs shook as they struggled to take her weight and, for a moment, he was afraid she would fall. Horacio didn’t want her to fall. Not yet. He wanted Eva standing so that he could wring another orgasm or two out of her.

“Good,” he praised when she held herself upright, “That’s good.”

When it looked like she keep her balance without his support, Horacio dropped to his knees and licked up the inside of her thigh. His nose brushed against her clit as he breathed in the scent of her arousal.

Yes.

He wanted one more from her. Maybe two. He wanted to drink from her for an hour. For the rest of the night. He wanted to know that it was his mouth that was bringing her over the edge again and again.

Looking up at her through his lashes, Horacio said, “If you hit the floor, I’ll fuck you on it.”

He’d meant it to be a warning, but Eva obviously took it as encouragement. She fell into his lap with a delighted laugh. Not even his frustrated growl could stop her from giggling as he rolled onto his back.

New plan.

Hands hooked around the back of her thighs, Horacio urged her forward until she was straddling his face. Then, without hesitation, he ran the flat of his tongue up her slit. Behind his closed lids, his eyes rolled back in pleasure. Eva keened, curling forward onto him.

He worked her open, sucking noisily. Turning his head from side to side, Horacio pushed his tongue deeper, curling it within her folds. His hands gripped her thighs, felt them begin to shake as he nosed over her clit.

The material of her dress partially obscured his view—which was probably for the best. Horacio had a hard enough time watching her when she was perched atop his cock. The sight of her grinding down onto his face would have ended him then and there.

When she tried to lift away, he reached up and hooked his fingers between the cups of her bra and pulled her down against his mouth. There was no way he was going to let her escape that easily. Eva started this whole thing and he was determined to finish it.

Her hips rolled, urging him on. Mouth open, he focused on her clit and listened for the sound that meant he had hit a particularly sensitive spot. He would gladly spend the rest of his life just like this, would willingly suffocate if it meant he could sip this sweet honey from her lips.

Eva’s whole body shuddered above him. A weak sound caught in her throat. Incensed, Horacio doubled his efforts, wringing just that little bit more out of her until she made another attempt to rise up. Not yet. He wanted more. He needed more. Horacio’s arms flexed, keeping her right where he wanted her.

With a growl that rumbled in his chest, he pushed her knees wider and worked three fingers inside her. Pumping slow and steady, it took next to nothing to draw her into another orgasm that had the thighs on either side of his head squeezing him tight.

Eva swayed, weak. Horacio took her weight gladly as he licked long stripes over her folds. Eventually, she rolled to her side and he followed.

“Good?”

He didn’t need to ask, but his ego couldn’t help the little jab at the way she was staring, dazed, at the ceiling. She nodded, then scoffed when she noticed his self-satisfied expression. He caught the hand that swatted at him, kissing her wrist.

Her smiled dropped, replaced by a look of wonder that caught him off guard. Eva was staring at him as if he were the only thing in the world, as if he was all that mattered. No one had ever looked at him quite like that.

He couldn’t take it.

Horacio leaned over and kissed away that look. Arching up to meet him, Eva began to push his jacket down over his shoulders. Horacio shrugged the offending material off and went back in for a deep kiss.

Her hands were at his belt and she had his fly open faster than he anticipated. Blindly, he reached for the jacket he’d just thrown away, digging in the pocket for a condom. It took far too long for him to get it rolled over his cock, his hands shaking with the need that was boiling inside him.

Horacio forced himself to go slow, slower than he ever had with her. His body felt too keyed up, too sensitive. If he wasn’t careful, he wouldn’t make it thirty seconds before he came and Horacio wanted this to last. Carefully, he lined himself up and pushed forward.

Ah, fuck.

Sweat formed at his temples and neck. His hips began to move faster, grinding against her in the hopes of pulling Eva along with him. She grabbed his biceps, her face scrunching as she braced her feet on the floor and used that leverage to get him deeper.

She’d done this before—that night after the pool—took more than he was giving her. And, just like that night, it drove him crazy. He grunted loudly and grabbed her thigh, pulling it high. It gave him the room he needed to sink deep, to make sure she felt every inch of him.

Eva gasped, her expression shocked. The words ‘I love you’ spilled out like water.

Horacio gave her a knowing grin, “Good. I love you, Eva.”

Her eyes welled with happy tears. It was impossible to resist kissing her sweetly. Eva’s hands fisted his collar and she deepened the kiss with a roll of her hips. Horacio moaned, body moving faster and harder. There was no finesse to it. Just raw, animal hunger. Pushing up with both hands, he drove into Eva, the orgasm coming from somewhere bone deep. It shocked him in its intensity, made his arms collapse beneath him.

He breathed hard into her neck for long second, until the darkness cleared from his eyes. Lazily, he eased his weight off her and sighed. After seeing to the condom, Horacio laid on his back next to Eva. He was looking at the ceiling. She was looking at him.

“You know, we haven’t packed yet for our flight.”

He laughed, “Its a three day turnaround. We won’t need much.”

Though he wasn’t looking at her, Horacio could hear her rolling her eyes, “Oh, yeah. I’ll just show up to the offices in my underwear.”

Casting her a sidelong glance, Horacio replied, “I wouldn’t complain.”

He definitely would complain.

Eva called him out on it, “You would. What you wouldn’t do is let me out of the hotel room.”

Yet again, Eva was right.

She was right about something else, as well.

Horacio knew that he was going to have to do something very soon to change to trajectory of his life. It wasn’t everyday that people fell in love. The feeling came to him slowly, sneaking past his defenses. It was already deeply rooted before he even know it existed. And, Horacio wouldn’t change it for anything, not even his career.

The decision was made as he helped Eva to stand on shaky legs. It was confirmed when, for the second time, she told him that she loved him.

He would have a talk with his superior as soon as he could schedule a meeting.

Later, as he stared at the ceiling, Horacio was reminded of a word that followed him all those months ago. He glanced at the slumbering woman draped over his body, grateful for her love.

Horacio breathed deeply.

Warm Vanilla. Fried dough. Cinnamon.

Omega.

Eva.

[allylikethecat]

twink death anon here, that was lovely!! thank you so much ❤️❤️❤️

hope you're having the best weekend

(also, why is saying anytime to your nail technician sooooo hard? my nails ended up being horrible last time but i still smiled and said how happy i was w them)

(also have you seen the george peope video from the other night it was such a lovely treat)

Hello Dear Twink Death Anon!

Thank you so much for requesting that prompt! I'm so glad to hear you enjoyed it! I had a lot of fun writing it! If there is anything else you would like to see, please do not hesitate to send it my way ❤️

I can't complain about my weekend too much - I had a great lesson with my horse this morning and now I am off to a costume holiday party (odd, yes, but lots of fun!) I am dressing up as Shego from Kim Possible because I am old 😂 I hope you are having a fantastic weekend as well!

Oh my gosh the nail technician thing is so true. Like I love my nail tech to death, she is incredible and I am fiercely loyal, and it was NOT her fault at all that someone put the red chrome finish I wanted back empty - I was just panicking because we had a white base on my nails so the red would pop and I was panicking trying to pick another "light colored" chrome finish to put over the white (all the others felt too summery or needed a black base) - she suggested gold and I was like sure! But wow I hate it so much, I am not meant to have gold chrome nails, it looks terrible on me. I told my nail tech I love them because like she tried so hard, and it's not her fault but like... it was 100% the straw that broke the camels back this week and I 100% cried about it in the car on the phone with my mom at the ripe old age of 28. But however, they are now gold and stained with purple because a bottle of thrush buster (for my horse) exploded all over me last night... it really is an interesting look. 😂

I have not seen it yet but omg I will have to do some looking! We love a good George moment!! Matty just always seems to have to force himself into the center of attention 🙄 (It's ok though we still love you Matty)

Thank you so much again for requesting that prompt and for sending in this follow up ask! I apologize for basically oversharing about my life here but it is what it is. I hope you're having a great weekend and enjoy whatever I come up with next!

❤️Ally

[ciyapaofficial]

Top Tips on Styling Oversized T-shirts Effortlessly

These days, oversized T-shirts are fashionable. They are also really cozy and comfortable. But it's crucial to know how to wear a large T-shirt properly. If not, people notice you, but in a bad manner! The ultimate millennial and generation Z fashion statement is to wear oversized t-shirts or t-shirts three times more Oversized than your actual size. 

These garments are timeless, size-inclusive, and widely available in a variety of styles. 

How does one go about creating a wardrobe around this incredibly warm basic and styling it in original and chic ways? We do, however, have a lengthy list for you. 

Read through some of our favorite oversized t-shirt comfort tips to learn styling advice that will enable you to create a fiercely stylish look. Learn how to look effortlessly trendy while making a casual statement with an oversized T-shirt on days when you don't feel like getting dressed up.

Oversized T-shirt and Blazer 

A blazer and a big T-shirt give off a stylish but casual vibe. Wear a similar shade of the color scheme to look smart, like a grey jacket with a white T-shirt. Put a tight belt around your waist and tuck in your shirt to make it look more stylish. This outfit is good for semi-formal gatherings and parties. Even though it's stylish and comfortable, the blazer makes it look more put-together. You can even try it out as combo t-shirts that go together.

Style Off Shoulder

Off-shoulder T-shirts that are too big look great. They have a loose fit and hang loosely from your shoulders. This might work well for women who are slim. In this outfit, your collarbone and shoulders look good. Add a corset belt as an extra to give it some shape. Ideally, all you need to pull off this off-shoulder, oversized T-shirt is confidence.

T-Shirt Tucked In

Tucked in oversized t-shirts look pretty cool and laid-back. You can look stylish while giving off the impression that you don't care. If you wear an oversized T-shirt with denim shorts, people will notice you. It might be your go-to outfit on a day when you just want to chill out or hang out with friends. It looks good and is very comfortable and easy to put on.

Rolled Up Sleeves 

Rolling up the sleeves of an oversized T-shirt can look stylish. Given the T-shirt's length, the lengthy, loosely fitted sleeves may give off a sloppy impression. Roll your sleeves up to the desired length for a trendy look. The T-front shirt's ends can also be tied together to resemble a crop top. It appears casual yet stylish.

Belt It Up

To accessorize with Oversized t-shirts, belts are ideal. They look great and assist to define your waistline. Girls typically wear large T-shirts with striking and broad black belts. Even vibrant colors like red are an option. This outfit is appropriate for both day and night. 

Oversized T-Shirt with Shorts 

Shorts and oversized T-shirts are so much fun and stylish to wear. Despite being informal, they create a strong fashion statement. You would look fantastic wearing them with black, white, or even blue jeans. This look is appropriate for breakfast or a laid-back day out while you shop or run errands. It is easy to wear, fashionable, and comfortable. Shorts and oversized T-shirts are the ultimate looks. Just be confident and kill it in your attire! 

Twist the Knot

Fashionistas and glam queens are the ones who adore this look the most. Although it is informal, the front Knot has a classy appearance. Overskirts, jeans, or shorts can all be paired with the oversized T-shirt with a knotted design. It can be appropriately accessorized based on the situation. These huge T-shirts with knotted designs will look great day or night. They are the ideal epitome of comfort and style. 

Jeans and Dungaree

Dungarees and oversized T-shirts look effortlessly cool. They have a good time and are sporty. The attire conveys a stylish vibe. Dungarees are a casual outfit, and wearing them with Oversized clothing only makes things cozier and more fashionable. Frequently, the outfit consists of a blue denim dungaree pair paired with an enormous white T-shirt. A stylish pair of white shoes would look great with this ensemble. 

Denim skirts and an Oversized t-shirt 

Denim skirts and oversized T-shirts are the height of chic glam. They effortlessly exude style while being at ease. This dress is appropriate for birthday celebrations or a pleasant breakfast. To make the outfit look more fashionable, pair it with a belt. Shades and other accessories will also look quite stylish. On them, boots, sneakers, or platform shoes will look fantastic. However, you might wear ballerinas if you like a more feminine look. 

Oversized T-shirt and Track Pants 

Track trousers and oversized t-shirts go together perfectly and are quite easy to wear. This outfit is your best friend on days when you only want to lounge around in loose-fitting clothing. These can be accessorized with caps or sunglasses. The best shoes for this ensemble are sneakers. On chilly days, you can even work out while wearing this. 

As a Dress

The simplest method to look fantastic when you don't have time or don't feel like getting dressed up is to wear an oversized T-shirt as a dress. It is informal, cozy, and exudes effortless style. If you want to seem stylish, you can add a corset belt. For this, boots or shoes would be ideal. 

The designers of Oversized T-shirts deserve our sincere gratitude. They sent us a fantastic piece of stylish upper clothing while considering our comfort and taste. And because you already know how to style oversized T-shirts for various styles, you may as well get ready for the countless compliments you'll receive once you start wearing them. You can also try wearing them if you are looking for combo t-shirts for couples, and you're good to go! Original Source: https://www.ciyapa.com/blog/post/top-tips-on-styling-oversized-t-shirt-effortlessly

[arc-misadventures]

I keep deleting the asks by accident…

A Stuttering Confession

Velvet: S-S-Sooo…? I-I-I was wondering… I-If you’re not to b-busy… If you’d like… If you’d like… well… actually I was really wondering if… if… I-I-If… WOULD YOU LIKE TO GO OUT WITH ME?!!

: Mmm… No.

Velvet: What?! Why?!

: Because my little BunBun~! That was~ pathetic… utterly pathetic. It was cute; the shy stuttering bunny is adorable~! But, sad, really sad…

Velvet: Jeeeeanne! You’re supposed to be helping me!

Jeanne: I am helping you; look I even dressed up like, Coco!

Velvet looked over Jeanne’s attire; White high heel boots with gold buckles, tight black jeans that highlighted the shape of her long legs. A red sash wrapped around her waist, widing the slim waist of hers, and her upper body was clad in a white dress shirt with rolled up sleeves. A grey vest with golden embroidery enveloped her torso as it showed off her wide, full chest. Lip gloss letting highlighting her luscious lips as she drew a confident smirk towards the shy bunny. A white, and gold trimmed beret rested upon her head as she gazed upon the bunny behind white, with gold strips sunglasses.

Velvet: I hope she doesn’t see you like that…

Jeanne: Because I look better than her~?

Velvet: That’s b-besides the point…

Jeanne: Like hell it is~! Alright teasing aside. You’re not going to have any luck asking, Coco out if you keep acting like this! Grow a spine you chicken!

Velvet: I’m trying! It’s just so hard…

Jeanne: Because, Coco has such an overpowering presence that the shy little bunny wabit can’t handle it, hmm~?

Velvet: Ahhh…!!!

Velvet: …

Velvet: yess…

Jeanne: Haa… Velvet, listen… I want help, I really do. I think you two would make a great couple.

Velvet: You do?

Jeanne: I really do. However, I’m not very certain on your chances if you keep acting like this! Grow a spine already girl! Where’s the fearsome, Grimm Slayer that I know you are?!

Velvet: I rather be Grimm slaying than this…

Jeanne: Because if you fail, you can just kill the Grimm)

Velvet: Yes…?

Jeanne: Fool!

(Jeanne light slaps Velvet’s cheek.)

Velvet: Ah?!!

Jeanne: If you fail against fighting Grimm, it means you’re dead!

Velvet: Ahh…!

Velvet: …

Velvet: Crap…

Jeanne: Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Velvet: Do you think it would be better if, Coco confessed to me instead?

Jeanne: Ehh… It would get done… But…

Velvet: But…?

Jeanne: But, you wouldn’t survive…

Velvet: What?! What do you mean by that?!

Jeanne: What I mean is~!

(Slam!)

Velvet: EEP?!

Velvet was forced against the wall, Jeanne placed her arm near her head as she leaned over her, he gloved hand reaching up, and grabbing, Velvet’s chin forcing her to stare into her eyes over the rim of her glasses.

Jeanne: Because she would force you against the wall just like this~! She’d hold your face in her hand like so~! And, tells you how much she loves you…

Velvet: Eh…?

Jeanne: How much she desires you~!

Velvet: E-E-Ehhh!!!

Jeanne: And, how much she really wants to hop her little Bun-Bun~!

Velvet: EHHHHHH!!!

Velvet drops to the floor, her face burning in a fierce blush as she hid her face with her hands, and ears.

Jeanne: Annnd, this would happen…

Velvet: S-S-She would?!! I-I-I!! H-Help?!

Jeanne: Haa… Like I said, if… By some chance! If, Coco liked you back, and she confessed to you, it will kill you.

Velvet: M-M-Ma?! H-Help?!

Jeanne: Oops… I think I broke her…

: HEY!

Jeanne: Hmm?

: Get away from my, Bun-Bun you… Eh? Jeanne? Is that you?

Jeanne: Hey, Mocha! Looking flawless as always.

Coco: Oh, thanks, Angel. But, what’s with the get up?

Jeanne: Just seeing if I can copy your style; what do you think~?

Coco: Oh, you look fantastic~! The, Adel style is not one just anyone can wear. But you… Mmm~! You pull it off well, dear!

Jeanne: Oh, Thanks~!

Coco: So, why are you tormenting my, Bun-Bun?

Jeanne: Mmm? Oh! Just… Just showing her I could pull a convincing, Coco act.

Coco: Can you?

Jeanne: Well… I think I broke, Velvet…

Coco: Hmm? Oh don’t worry, she’ll be fine… eventually…

Jeanne: Well then, as for playing you, you tell me~?

(Smack!)

Coco: Ohhh~!

Jeanne: Oh! Sorry, did I spank you too hard?

Coco: No no, it all fine, Angel. All fine.

Jeanne: Oh, in that case…

Jeanne leaned closer to whisper in, Coco’s ear.

Jeanne: I’ll make sure I’m a little harder next time~!

Coco: Ah-ha~? Well, I’m looking forward to it then~!

Jeanne: My pleasure, Mo… (Ping~!) Hmm? Huw…?

Coco: What’s wrong?

Jeanne: Pyrros, just shoved Yin’s head through a wall…?

Coco: Eh?

Jeanne: Beats me. I Best go check up on them. I’ll see you later.

Coco: Bye-bye, Angel~!

Coco: Now then… What should I do with you?

Velvet: Coco…

Coco: What’s up, Bun-Bun?

Velvet: I think I just developed a crush on, Jeanne…

Coco: Ha… Welcome to the club, Velvet…

Velvet: Oh… okay then…

Coco: No, seriously, there is a fan club for her. I’m a member myself, in charge of fashion~!

Velvet: You are?

Coco: Indeed I am! No way in hell I’m wearing some lame black robe…

Velvet: Oh… can I join then…?

Coco: Hehehe~! The more the merry it is then~!

[nerdwriting]

The Creative Directors Behind Fate: The Winx Saga Must Not Be K-Pop Fans

Also, they have a pretty wrong idea of the role fashion should play in a show.

There are a few words that will stand out across most reviews of Netflix's Fate: The Winx Saga - drab, boring, flop, flat, unimaginative. Critics and audiences consensus is that the show is not only a mediocre-at-best story, but also an atrocious (and ultimately confusing) choice of adaptation of the color pop and fairy magic cartoon it’s based on, 2004 italian cartoon Winx Club.

Fate has plenty of it's own issues - white washing and erasing characters, cringey dialogue, outdated melodrama, etc. But where it truly, unequivocally fails is as an adaptation. Fate misses everything that was magical and lovable about the original series, in all levels, from bizarre writing choices, - such as never actually developing any sense of friendship between the characters, who are based on a cartoon about…..a group…….of friends -, but it's especially and immediately felt in the art direction and costume design.

Winx Club is set on a fantastical world, Magix, where each of our main characters hail from a different planet, à la Sailor Moon. Alfea, the fairy school they attend, is the most common background: a pastel colored, futuristic high tech-meets-fantasy, art nouveau inspired castle. Alfea sets the tone for the whole visual of the cartoon: bright, colorful, futuristic meets vintage, leaning into the technological positivism of the Y2K style, uniting it with magic, DnD worthy monsters and, of course, fairy wings. Often featured are also the Red Fountain school, where the Specialists train, and especially Cloud Tower, the goth and gothic inspired witch school Alfea has an OxBridge rivalry with (How cool would that be in a live action? I guess we’ll never know…).

On Fate, Alfea is the only school we ever see, and it’s another beige boarding school in not-Britain, somehow set in a magical world where everyone has the exact same technology and even social media that we have on Earth in 2021, no transformations and, most egregiously, no fairy wings.

This lack of visual creativity is pervasive throughout the whole show, and its most heartbreaking iteration is in the characters' wardrobe. The styling has the barest bones of a color scheme, - such as 'Bloom has to only dress in red since fire, duh',- the clothes are ill fitting, bland, dark and very dated. These are supposed to be teenagers who enjoy fashion, and yet they look like varying types of soccer moms from 2010.

The series seems to operate on an old and tired vision that women and girls can’t have depth and have adventures and fight monsters while also caring about fashion, a vision that the original show played a big, big role in challenging in the early 2000's. Fashion and costume design sets as much of the tone of a visual medium as the script does; through clothes we can gauge characters’ backgrounds, passions, and personality.

Winx Club has some of the best examples of this in the cartoon sphere - Bloom’s comfortable and bright style, Stella’s glitzy and bold, Musa’s edgy and cool, Aisha’s sporty and fun, Techna’s neon and tech gear inspired, Flora’s earthy and romantic, they all work as extensions of each character and serve a narrative purpose. And that’s not even mentioning how insulting it feels that in their quest to make Winx “edgier, darker” and fit for an older audience, the creators of Fate somehow decided that was in opposition to caring about style and fashion. Most “girly” shows, including the Winx Club are just as much adventure action shows as the ones geared towards boys, and it’s emphasis in fashion, friendship and color does not detract from that. The original run of the cartoon deals with war, violence, grief, abusive relationships and even genocide; leaning into those plotlines would not require Fate to erase any integral parts of what made Winx so beloved, and the fact that they did shows that the Netflix team completely missed the point of fashion in the original show, and really, the point of fashion and costume design in the world building of any show.

That, however, is not a mistake K-Pop makes very often; (This might seem like a bit of wild swerve in topic, but stay with me here). Unlike it's western counterpart, the Korean pop scene never lost the emphasis on music videos and how the visual medium can complete and potentialize music and performance; the K-Pop culture is very album and concept oriented in a way that has been all but lost in many other pop circuits, and the music video, styling and set design of a ‘comeback era’ is a key point of excitement among fans.

As such, music videos that follow storylines, connected universes, boundary pushing concepts and visual effects are the norm, rather than the exception, and a list could be made of works that are beautiful examples of what a live action Winx adaptation could look like. In fact, and very smoothly, here is a small list of exactly that!

A Small List of K-Pop Music Videos That Are Better Winx Club Live Actions Than Fate: The Winx Saga

3. Red Velvet - Psycho

If it was a darker and more somber look that Fate wanted, there was a way to make it actually appealing. While it still feels a liiitle too grown up and elegant for Winx, (maybe this author is biased, as a full proponent for the Y2K fun) Psycho makes a very compelling argument for a witchy, mysterious, fairy tale-esque show that could look scrumptious and definitely not boring, or even a gorgeous example of what the witches in Cloud Tower could look like. Black and white, dark green, pastel blue and pops of jewel tones make Psycho's color palette. To add interest to the understated colors, the styling is heavy on textures; We see plenty of stonework, intricate embroidery, tassels, lace on lace on lace, feathers, bows, opera gloves and lots of glitter. All of that is offset by bold, dark makeup, leather accents and eerie cinematography. Needle & Thread, Marchesa Notte and Self Portrait lend their hyper feminine and intricately detailed tulle gowns, juxtaposed with the creepiness of the lyrics and the dark backgrounds; their deep berry and green fairy tale looks are built with pieces from Zara to Nina Ricci to Dolce & Gabbana to Alexander McQueen.

Red Velvet’s more edgy styling for 2018's Bad Boy would also not feel out of place on the Trix.

2. IZ*ONE - Fiesta

IZ*ONE kicked off 2020 with sweet and fun Fiesta. The MV features rooms with mismatched décor that go from retro to space opera, rocky faux landscapes that feel other worldly, and visual effects that would look perfect on the back of a transformation sequence. Mirroring the set design, the girls wear various outfits by sustainable up and coming brand Chopova Lowena. Their signature skirts made with discarded and repurposed fabrics give a cool and interesting twist on a schoolgirl look that would look very sweet for a band of school fairies that occasionally go off to save the world. Also, wouldn't those bedazzled headphones look great on Musa's fairy outfit?

1. Aespa - Black Mamba and Next Level

Aespa is what fans call a monster rookie. With only three music videos under their belt, they still have some of the most visually interesting work in the industry right now. Their concept is very tied in with high tech, featuring even AI avatars of each member, packaged in a glitzy, fantastical and futuristic aesthetic, candy pop meets cyberpunk. I think I’ve exhausted ways to say that is exactly what a perfect Winx adaptation should feature.

Their debut smash hit, 2020’s Black Mamba is truly a perfect moodboard for live action Winx. Wearing a sequined and colorful mix and match of Dollskill, Gucci, Didu and Balenciaga to a backdrop that features some alien fairy forest realness, a pyschedelic fever dream, rooms straight out of a Y2K catalog or donning lime green and black techwear inside a metro fighting the "black mamba", Aespa look through and through the part of fashion loving fairies who save the world together, while looking fierce, stylish and, most importantly, interesting.

The styling and the sets jump seamlessly from more casual colorful fits with blouses, shirts and baggy pants to barren, darkly lit backgrounds and fringe-and-glitter heavy pieces necessary to fight giant snakes, in a way so fitting to transformation outfits for magical girls we could cry.

In their third MV, 2021's Next Level, the cyber in their concept is taken up a notch (get it. because Next Level-), set to a futuristic urbanscape intersped with a planet made of crystals and the ocasional alien fauna popping up again. We get treated to Monse, The 2nd Skin Co., Johanna Ortiz and The Attico styled to fairy princess standards, sporty sky racers and a white and sequined group styling that is top ten fairy busy saving the world uniform material, or maybe even a specialist worthy getup.

This particular look from Ningning is so Techna that it almost feels as if it's mocking Netflix.

And doesn’t this Karina trapped inside the "black mamba" in Alexander McQueen feel like a perfect Dark Bloom moment?

These are only a few examples of interesting and creative designs that are in line with what a live action Winx Club should have given us. There are so many more I could list, even among other TV Shows, like Sex Education and even polemic dark Euphoria, that know how to have fun with style and design without losing the depth of their stories. In the end, it's hard to justify why Fate creators even wanted to make an adaptation that didn't even try to capture the heart of its source material, and all we can do is watch one more "Restyling Fate: The Winx Saga" video on Youtube whilst mildly dreading season 2.

[fancyschmancyopinions]

JANELLE MONAÉ at the 95th Annual Academy Awards and the 2023 Vanity Fair Oscar Party on March 12th 2023 wearing VERA WANG and custom AREA

Janelle always slays the red carpet, so it was no surprise she had two fantastic gowns for the Academy Awards and After Party.

Her look for the main event was a bit more subdued, she had some cutouts but not too much skin was showing. I thought the orange and black was such a great color combo. There wasn’t any Halloween vibes with this look. I really loved the black choker with pearl colored details. It was a fierce look.

Janelle wore a bit more scandalous look to the Vanity Fair after party. I loved how detailed the bodice was. The beading was so intricate and just beautiful. It looked amazing against the sheer bodice. Even though the dress was all black, it was still such a standout.

[soulmate-game]

New fic *test*

New Bio!dad Bruce story? I’m testing out this first chapter, and if I like where it’s going I might add it to my growing pile of WIPs. If I have inspiration, I might as well use it. Because of life events stressing me the hell out, I’m throwing any writing plans out the window and I’m purely gonna write to destress right now. Whether that means updating THG or not, or continuing Maribat March, we’ll just have to see how this all pans out. Things are subject to day-to-day change.

I got inspiration from this from rereading my day 1 story for Bio!dad Bruce Wayne month from last year. I’m just gonna change a few things.

—*—*—*—*—*

For once, an unfamiliar face attracted the attention of everyone who caught even a glimpse of them. It wasn’t even because of the person themselves at first, but their dress. The skirt like the most fantastical of storybook ball gowns, fluffy layers of satin over a luxurious petticoat, with a stunning pink floral pattern whose busy appearance was tastefully offset by a shorter, sheer layer of leaf green tulle artistically weaved and somehow sculpted over the floral in order to tame it. The effect turned what should be a grandmotherly pattern into something softer, sophisticated and youthful and yet also reminiscent of fairytale princesses. Over top the short layer of green tulle was an even shorter later of white tulle, almost invisible except for the elegant embroidery of crystal-white vines that twined all over it, connecting the green below it to the bottom-most floral pattern and oddly adding a layer of childishness instead of maturity. At the waist of the dress was a dark plum pink satin ribbon, to separate the elaborate ballgown skirt from the bodice. Attached to the simple ribbon was a large brooch of fabric flowers, with a single plastic ladybug in the center.

The bodice of the dress came up into a cheongsam neckline, but was sleeveless. It was a simple design, of half green and half dark pink, with a white border separating the two. The white border had expertly done embroideries in a soft silver thread that would only be visible close up, the images the thread made being that of fairies and ladybugs dancing around one another.

It was, all in all, a stunning display that made the small eurasian woman wearing them look like absolute royalty. Perhaps a long lost fairy princess. Her black-blue hair was even done up in elaborate looping braids and a braided bun, with silver and green pins that further completed the regal ensemble. And yes, while the expertly done dress was what initially captivated her current audience, it was not what kept them from leaving her alone. That was all her personality, bubbly and bright as her blinding smile. It was a sunny disposition that very few people present had any exposure to at all, and it drew them like a sunflower to the daylight. They could not help but flock closer, or even just stand back and keep themselves turned to her presence. Already she had been at the gala for two hours, but there was no issue. She just kept proving her generosity, admitting she had donated both a dress and a suit of her own making to the charity auction that would begin soon, one of the main attractions of the gala. She skillfully charmed the more snooty of the attendants, and artfully twisted her words so that they felt compelled to donate more money that they truly had no use for. Later, they would remember their donation and wonder what compelled it, but come up with no satisfying answer.

And yet she was entirely unaware of her more silent audience, who stood back and observed. Truth be told, every one of them was glad to not be the center of that attention for a change, to have room to breathe for so long at an event where usually that commodity was so scarce that it demanded a fierce competition for. Compared to her garden of color, they were all shadows in shades of blacks and blues and whites, with a touch of red here and there that was entirely too thematic for their home city. The one who sported a royal blue suit tilted his head at the scene they were all calmly witnessing, his bright azure eyes glittering.

“She’s like magic,” he mused, clearly enchanted despite having not said a single word to the woman. “Perfect socialite. She’s kind, generous, she made that dress and the ones she donated to the auction herself so she’s obviously got an intimidating amount of skill for her age. She even tricks those old fuddy-duddies into spending money. It’s like a dream come true!”

“I don't trust it,” the one to his right said, a man just a few inches shorter in a classic black suit with a red dress shirt underneath. He absently swept his bangs away from his face as he narrowed his eyes at the woman. “It seems too perfect. She doesn’t have any identifiable character flaw, except maybe being a little clumsy and too energetic. She does babble a little… but nothing that actually suggests any depth besides her just being— good. That’s impossible, and I don’t trust it.”

“Tt. I agree with Drake for once. She seems entirely too comfortable with this setting, despite her blushes and rambles,” the one who spoke this like was taller, clearly a teen in the middle of his growth spurt. He, too, wore a plain black suit but his had subtle charcoal embroidery and he wore an emerald-green dress shirt under it that made his matching eyes gleam dangerously. “It seems almost playacted. Expertly so, but nonetheless not entirely genuine.”

“Wow, not many pick up on that. I’m gonna give your observations a solid eight out of ten. They’re all perfectly sound, but not quite complete,” a new voice made all of the silent group stiffen— somehow they had been snuck up on. The newcomer smirked at them as if having fully expected their reaction but still being pleased at being able to evoke it. This was yet another stunner; far too much color in her outfit to be a Gotham native, and far too much skill in the construction for it to signify anything less than extreme influence. She had bright golden-blond hair that was coiled into a low bun, with her bangs artfully curled and arranged to display her crystal blue eyes.

In contrast to the garden-themed dress of the Eurasian woman who had garnered their attention at first, this newcomer was wearing a pantsuit. It was all in a dark honey-gold, in a stiff fabric with construction that made it lay entirely in perfect, straight lines and hug her form in the right places. Black embroidery decorated the long, flared sleeves and pant legs and dripped around the square neckline like a faux necklace. A cape made out of the same material as the rest of the pantsuit was draped on one shoulder. It started out as the same honey-gold color, but it became a gradient as it faded to a solid black at the ends. Gold thread embroidery decorated the solid black bottom of the cape in delicate, deceptively simplistic swirls. The top half of the pantsuit was clearly inspired by military garb, simultaneously rigidly constructed yet fitted, with circular onyx buttons going down the center of the chest and a thick metal belt, all in swirling silver and black, sat perfectly clasped around her waist. It was far more solid-colored and simplistic compared to the fairytale dress in the center, but no less show stopping and luxurious. It simply showcased an entirely different attitude, almost as if the two women could never get along if their personalities matched their outfits.

“And who are you?” The man who had been the center of the group of shadow-like adults spoke up, back straightening to milk every speck of his generous six-feet-and-three-inches of height. This was none other than Bruce Wayne, the host of this annual charity gala. And normally, his current stance would either intimidate or utterly charm whoever it was directed at— but not this pantsuit-clad blond warrior. Her smirk merely widened, and her blue eyes took on a slight shade of teal as if trying to mimic the dangerous ocean depths.

“I am Chloe Bourgeois, the daughter of Andre Bourgeois, the mayor of Paris, and Audrey Bourgeois, the Style Queen. It’s nice to meet you again, Monsieur Wayne,” she introduced herself imperiously. “I also happen to be the best friend of the girl you were just staring at.”

Bruce nodded, but had trouble reconciling this clear powerhouse of a woman with the bratty and entitled preteen he had met years ago, at the last gala she had attended with her mother. “Of course, I didn’t recognize you at first Chloe. You’ve grown a lot since the last Gala I saw you at.”

Chloe wrinkled her nose, clearly not appreciating the reminder. “I was a bitch,” she admitted easily, seemingly not at all bothered by the confession. It caused not only Bruce but also the oldest three of his sons, who had all also met her in the past, to blink in silent shock. “Things have changed. Paris is apparently the perfect chaotic environment right now to promote emotional growth and smack spoiled kids over the head with reality,” she shrugged. Part of the reason her and her whole class had even been able to come to the Gala in the first place was the fact that Bruce wanted to offer the most attacked group of Parisians a respite and some support from their crazy lives. The fact that even Gotham seemed sane in comparison to Paris was a bit of a hard hit for both involved parties, but in the end everyone understood that “more sane” didn’t always equate with “less dangerous.” Considering all that, Chloe had no reason to sugarcoat the situation in her home city. “But it wasn’t easy at all, and Marinette was largely responsible for my improvement too.”

“Marinette?” The heathen who somehow got away with attending a gala in a black leather jacket over a dress shirt and suit pants asked, raising a brow. Chloe nodded.

“The girl you were just goggling at. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the class president and resident workaholic. Does she ever sleep? Nobody knows,” Chloe shrugged.

The blue-suited man, Dick Grayson, shot a suspicious glance at Tim, who was standing to his right, as if he was worried his brother had made a female clone of himself just so he could continue to work hard and never rest. Tim ignored him and sipped from the thermos of coffee he had somehow snuck in.

Bruce cleared his throat to bring the focus back onto himself, and shot his most charming smile at Chloe. “They would have known who she was, if they had read the brief information I gave them about your class. But they never do listen to me,” he complained with good humor. “But back to the original topic, Miss Bourgeois, do you care to correct us on how our observations are lacking?”

Chloe laughed easily, smiling and nodding to indicate Marinette, still stuck in a circle of socialites and not seeming the least bit worn out.

“Of course. First; She is not completely acting. She really is like magic sometimes— disgustingly kind, generous, far too willing to help just about anyone for just about any reason. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met, as much as it pains me to admit it. But she is exaggerating her personality a bit and hiding the parts she doesn’t want anyone to see, so there is a little acting involved. Just not as much as you seem to think,” Chloe then waved her arm in a flourish as if she were presenting Marinette to them. “In short; behold Mari Dupain-Cheng, the ridiculously likeable, disgustingly cute, extremely philanthropic mask that she shows everyone at public events like this. You don’t see any of the insomnia, or the anxiety, or the self doubt. Just the parts she wants you to see, accompanied with a smile to blind you to everything else,” her all-too-deep blue eyes settled back on Bruce then, a knowing glint shining in them. “Don’t you think that’s ridiculously similar to Brucie Wayne for you, Monsieur? Utterly, ridiculously, similar?”

Bruce grit his teeth. He hadn’t expected anyone else to know about his exceptionally well hidden secret, not even his kids had caught on or found his buried evidence yet. Yet his heiress comes up, nearly flaunting her knowledge in his face with all too many unspoken questions and criticisms.

And her cryptic words had succeeded in making all of his kids look at him with extreme suspicion. Shit.

“What are you saying, Miss Bourgeois?” he cautiously prodded. She hummed noncommittally before dropping the bomb all too casually;

“I’m saying I’ve seen her adoption papers, and you won’t be able to run from her for long Monsieur Wayne. As soon as she gets an opening, she’s going to pounce,” Chloe’s eyes glittered dangerously again. “And nowadays, Marinette doesn’t ever let people escape her. Your problem with adoption has created a rather unique problem, you know. You’re at fault for a large majority of her self confidence issues, and I want you to know that I am not going to forget or forgive that anytime soon.”

“Bruce,” Jason’s voice was dark and threatening. “What is she talking about?”

“Something we don’t want getting in the tabloids,” Yet another new voice popped up, allowing Chloe to smugly sink back into the background.

Somewhere during their discussion, Marinette had ambushed them.

“Chloe and I are very good at locating all the reporters in a room and distracting them, but we’re not infallible and this event has far too much coverage,” Her smile reeked confidence and charm, but this close all the Waynes could see the doubt hiding in her bluebell eyes. “Since I’m about to turn eighteen, I figured this would be as good a time as any to finally confront you. I want to make it clear that I seek nothing from you, except the occasional contact. I would like to keep in touch, if nothing else. But if you are adverse to that… then at least answer my questions after the gala,” her eyes developed a hint of carefully controlled desperation. “Please.”

Bruce met her eyes evenly, trying to read her. But she was difficult, simultaneously too many emotions to sort through in her demeanor and much too little. After an extremely tense moment of silence, his voice came out barely above a whisper:

“You do not want anybody to know?”

And hell, if she didn’t recognize the hidden vulnerability in his voice as the very same she heard in her own far too often. In a much tamer version of her own rambling, he went on:

“I can keep it silent if that is what you want. But I want you to know that I will not be adverse to you admitting it anywhere. I don’t expect you to change your name, but I would not be ashamed of the truth getting out. I am not ashamed of it, of you.”

Marinette’s smile grew a little watery. She had to clear her throat to keep herself from tearing up. “Maybe eventually, but not yet. I… I want to stay a little more anonymous for now. It’s one thing to be a well known designer with good connections. It’s an entirely different thing to be…”

“A Wayne?” Bruce finished, ignoring the daggers that were being stared into his back. “I understand completely.

“Father,” Damian’s voice was all sharp edges and rapidly suppressed panic. “What. Is going. On?”

Marinette shot him an apologetic smile. “Apparently, eighteen years ago, his prerogative was to put the child he actually knew about up for adoption when the mother died in childbirth,” her voice was once again only barely loud enough for them to hear, since she didn’t want any eavesdroppers. “Imagine my surprise when I find out he completely flipped sides only months later.”

--*--*--*--*--*

Hey, so please share your feedback on this. This is just to test out a possible new bio dad, multichapter fic and this is the opening scene I'm trying out. If you like it, please tell me what you like about it and please suggest titles for the story! I love you guys' feedback so much!

[secretkeeper13]

Wannabe

Summary:  The Sixth Year Gryffindor boys discover the Spice Girls, but Harry only wants to be Ginny’s lover.

Yes, you read that right. This fluffy, kind-of-crack HBP missing moment was born from a conversation in the Hinny Discord (and my 90s tween years). 

Content warning: If you aren’t into wank jokes, teenage boys shamelessly ogling pop icons, unfiltered Ron, and don’t agree that Sporty was the least attractive Spice Girl (apologies, Mel C), then this may not be the fic for you ;)

Since historical accuracy is paramount to this story (sarcasm), the magazine referenced in the fic is the March 1997 issue of The Face. Google it if you want to see the cover and photos (you know you want to).

Thank you @thedistantdusk, beta supreme, for editing and always encouraging my ridiculousness ;)  Happy Thursday!

Read it below the cut, or on Ao3.

Harry flopped onto his bed, tired but pleased with how well the team was flying. At this rate, they’d have a fighting chance to win the cup against Ravenclaw, especially now that Katie was back. It’d been their best practice yet, although he’d been repeatedly distracted by Ginny, laughing at her antics, admiring the way her eyes blazed with determination just before she scored a goal, trying not to stare at her arse as she bent low over her broomstick.

“What’s that?” Ron said, jolting Harry from his thoughts.

Ron looked across the dormitory at Seamus, who sat on his bed staring intently at a magazine with Dean looking over his shoulder.

“See for yourself, mate.” Seamus smirked, holding up the magazine to reveal the cover, a Muggle photograph of five girls, all scantily clad in lingerie and extremely fit.

Harry sat up immediately for a better look. Even Neville, from his bed next to Harry’s, had his eyes glued to the cover.

Ron let out a low whistle. “Where’d you get that?” he asked, clamoring across the room to stand next to Seamus for a better look.

“Took it from my little sister over Easter hols and brought it back for Seamus,” Dean said, grinning. “Thought he’d appreciate it.”

“What’s your little sister doing with something like this?”

“Not what you’ll be doing with it later, that’s for sure,” Seamus said, making a rude hand gesture. Ron flipped him off as the rest of them laughed.

“They’re the Spice Girls,” Dean explained. “A Muggle singing group. All the girls are obsessed with them right now. Girl Power, you know?”

Harry didn’t know, but he decided he would very much like to find out as he walked over for a closer look.

“Fuck, they’re fit,” Ron said, looking over Seamus’ shoulder at the cover of the magazine.

Harry had to agree. There was a perky, smiling blonde, two brunettes in the middle with dark, shiny hair and sultry gazes, a redhead with great tits next to them, and a pretty girl with wild curls and tanned skin posed seated at their feet.

“And this is just the cover, wait ‘til you see the photos inside.” Seamus said, waggling an eyebrow.

“They’re everywhere right now- can’t turn on the radio without hearing their songs- they’re all over the telly too,” Dean said, as the rest of them continued to stare at the cover. “They go by nicknames, and the girls all have favorites.”

Dean pointed to the blonde. “This one’s Baby, there’s Sporty on her other side. The redhead is Ginger-“

“Original, that one,” Harry said dryly, and the others laughed.

Dean continued as the laughter subsided. “The one next to her with that stuck up look is Posh, and the one sitting down is Scary- she’s my sister’s favorite. I’m with her on that one.” He finished with a wink.

“Reckon Scary’s my favorite too,” Seamus said, his tone thick with bravado.

“No way,” Ron said, indignant, “that Posh one, she’s the fittest. Look at her legs.”

“Nah, she’s a bit too high and mighty. She looks like she’d always be telling you what to do,” Dean said.

“Just Ron’s type then,” Seamus quipped.

Dean and Seamus roared with laughter. Out of loyalty, Harry tried (but failed) to suppress his own laughter, his shoulders shaking with mirth.

“Oh, fuck off,” Ron replied, the tips of his ears red.

“What’s The Chosen One’s choice?” Seamus asked, turning to Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’d go with Ginger.”

“Oooooh, Harry picks the redhead,” Seamus said, eyebrow raised, exchanging a pointed look with Dean.

“Got a thing for gingers, do you then?”

Shit. Panic that his casual admission might reveal his most private, fiercely-guarded feelings about Ginny began to overtake him.

“Didn’t pick her for her hair color, mate,” Harry retorted, trying to sound flippant, as he gestured to her tits.

Seamus laughed and slapped Harry’s shoulder. Harry breathed a small sigh of relief, hoping that he hadn’t just made the fact that he fancied Ginny completely obvious. In truth, the girl did remind him a bit of Ginny- not just her hair color, but her build too, and something about the way she carried herself in the photo. He tried not to blush, though heat rushed to his cheeks. He stole a glance at Ron who, thankfully, was still gaping at the magazine and not paying attention to the exchange.  

“What’s your vote, then, Nev?” Seamus asked.

Neville, standing next to Harry, his cheeks already pink, looked startled to be included. “Erm, she looks nice,” he said softly, motioning towards the blonde, “but they’re all good looking, really,” he added, his round face now flaming scarlet.

“Nobody for Sporty then?” Dean asked, laughing.

“Nah, who's picking Sporty over any of those four?” Ron said bluntly. “Let’s see what’s inside, then.”

The photo spread inside the magazine did not disappoint, Harry thought, taking in the individual, full body photos of each girl in very suggestive poses.

“Damn,” Ron said appreciatively.

“Told you it was good.”

The dormitory grew quiet for a moment as Seamus flipped through the pages.

“Wait,” said Ron, pointing to a line in the article, “This says the lyrics to their hit song are ‘If you wannabe my lover, you gotta get with my friends.’ Really?”

“Are you actually reading the article, mate? That’s impressive,” Harry said wryly.

“It’s true- heard it a million times over Easter break, that bloody song’s on the radio every other minute,” Dean replied.

“Well, it’s fucking terrible advice. What girl wants you getting with her friends?” Ron said.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

“Ron,” a voice called. Harry realized instantly that it was Ginny.

Fuck. Seamus shoved the magazine under the duvet as the rest of them scrambled to disperse, Neville tripping over his own feet, Ron hitting his head on the top of the bedpost as he ducked to sit on his bed.

“Come in,” Ron called.

Ginny opened the door and leaned on the side of the doorframe. She looked unfairly beautiful, Harry thought, her cheeks still rosy from practice, her long hair loose and flowing down her back, ending just above the swell of her arse, which looked fantastic in her tight joggers.

Her eyes narrowed as she took in the scene. The five of them had each ended up on their respective beds, fully dressed, shoes and all, with no books or parchment in sight. It must’ve looked strange.

She quirked an eyebrow. “You five having a cosy little chat?”

Neville chuckled nervously. Seamus coughed. Ron’s ears turned red. Dean stared at the duvet, determined to avoid her gaze, probably for a variety of reasons, Harry thought.

Ginny shook her head slightly. “Never mind, I’m sure I don’t even want to know,” she said, grinning at Harry. His cheeks grew warm, and he gave a slight shrug back.  

She turned to Ron, her tone more serious. “Hermione asked me to get you. The Second Years were playing Exploding Snap at a table in the common room, and the explosion blew up some inkwells. There’s ink all over everything. She needs your help cleaning off the boys. Euan Abercrombie’s covered head to toe in it.”

“Little idiots,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. He stood and walked past Ginny onto the spiral staircase.

“Great practice, Harry,” Ginny said. She beamed at him, her smile brilliant, and in that moment, he wished, more than anything, that they were alone in the dormitory, instead of awkwardly surrounded by her (very recent) ex, Seamus, and Neville.

“You too. We’re going to flatten them,” he managed, hoping he didn’t sound like his breath was caught in his throat, which it was.

She just winked back. His heart, already fluttering faster than the wings of a snitch, skipped a beat.  “Night all,” she said, with a wave to Neville.

As she closed the door, Harry sank back onto his pillows, thinking only of Ginny, the magazine long forgotten.