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maniamains · 2 years

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Purple jeans

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So do a Tom Holland and invest in a purple throw-on – it's the easiest way to tackle the trend with nonchalance. Elsewhere Kenzo's all about contrasting stripes in jam and violet, while Italian ultra-luxe label Canali wants you to wear suiting in blush lavender. Saint Laurent's all-black collection was interrupted by a single magenta belted jacket, Louis Vuitton proposed the wear of boxy deep mauve monogrammed two-pieces, while Georgio Armani wants you to play around with hues (juniper and Iris), as well as textures (silk, satin and velvet). Purple Jeans found in: Clairville Pleat Tunic - purple, Wild Dobby Top - petunia, Sexy Fling Elbow Sleeve Top - petunia, Flutter Stretch Top - amethyst, Fresh Ditsy Top - purple, Nailhead Tunic - royal purple, Romantic Mood Top. Magenta, lilac, mauve and juniper: the men's collections were painted every hue of purple. The recent SS'23 men's shows were awash with Willy Wonka-fied purple garb, and the colour is easily the standout hue of the season. The brand focuses on producing high quality denim pieces with unique fits, detail-specific hardware, and distressing. For Customer Assistance, please call 88.And while we're not sure we have the pristine complexion required to pull off an amethyst-hued hoodie with quite the same panache, we have realised that Zendaya's other half is onto something with his fixation on the vivid colour.

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This offer is not applicable to purchases being shipped internationally. Purple Denim Purple Brand Worn Mid Indigo Knee Slit Jeans Purple Brand Vintage Indigo Coated Zip Jeans Purple Brand Vintage Black Coated Zip Jeans Purple. Any philanthropic donations added at checkout do not count toward the minimum purchase amount. Regular charges will apply to all other shipping methods. Orders containing fragrances, rugs, or lighting and orders greater than 30 units are not eligible for Fast shipping. Your estimated delivery date will be provided at checkout. Orders typically arrive within four business days if placed by 3 PM ET (11 AM ET for orders containing customized items). A brown leather jacket was slung casually. The free Fast shipping offer is automatically applied at checkout when Fast shipping is selected after signing in to your account on or on The Ralph Lauren App. Shop Purple cotton logo-print track pants from PALM ANGELS featuring two-tone design, elasticated waistband, logo print to the side, two side slit pockets. The dishevelled prospector was cleaned up today in a pair of crisp blue jeans, if jeans could be called crisp. See our returns policy for details and exclusions. Enjoy free returns within 30 days of the order ship date. Enjoy free Fast shipping on orders made using a account.

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shijiujun · 3 years

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Was ZZ big before SHL or is this his big break? Cause it seems crazy that he got this popular this fast

Both GJ and ZZH were well known ie they aren’t exactly newbies or rookies and they have a lot of shows under their belt each BUT they were never this popular. So ZZH and GJ both had ZERO proper endorsements before SHL - Gong Jun had I think some tiny ones that placed him like 400+ in terms of ranking for actors-related product advertising sales and within like two weeks this month he ranked 1.

That’s a huge ass jump hahahaha in terms of deals GJ has more, but his is a mix of higher tiered items and lower food related ones, while ZZH seems to be going through the mid- to low- level endorsement tiers quite steadily ie not too expensive for fans to buy (GJ endorsed a car among other things hahahahaha). So aside from Elizabeth Arden and like I guess Armani and Tom Ford, the last two of which he shares with GJ, ZZH is endorsing Sensodyne Nivea, Pandora, Maybelline - not really cheap but at least affordable for a larger consumer base so his products are definitely flying off the shelves 😂😂

But yeah they really just shot through the roof for popularity within 2 months

#asks #shl cast #ZZH

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aratilightwood · 6 years

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If Kit lived the extravagant lifestyle

Tagging @kit-herondale-blackthorn for the ‘Cirenworth hall’ craze fest.

...

(1) *Kit and Ty prepare for patrolling near a restaurant.*

“Are you ready to leave?” Ty asked as he walked into Kit’s bedroom.

“Yeah, give me a minute, I just have to lace up my red bottoms,” Kit replied.

“Red bottoms? What kind of demons have red bottoms?” Ty said.

“No they’re -“ Kit began. “Nevermind.”

(2) *Kit and Tessa wash dishes in the kitchen.*

“Do I really have to clear away the dishes?” Kit questioned miserably.

“Well, I cooked, so it only seems fair that you clean,” Tessa replied.

“But I don’t want to scratch my Rolex watch, please help me take it off,” Kit said.

“Fine,” Tessa sighed.

(3) *Kit and Emma prepare for patrolling at a bar*

“Have you got all the weapons you need?” Emma asked as she walked into the weapon’s room.

“Erm, yeah,” Kit replied.

She eyed the golden chain around his neck, “why are you still wearing that?”

“It might work like an electrum whip,” Kit said.

“I doubt that,” Emma replied.

(4) *Kit is feeding baby Cordelia.*

“Have you finished feeding Cordelia?” Jem asked as he peered in the living room doorway.

“Almost done,” Kit said happily.

“It’s good you’re getting practice,” Jem said.

Before Kit could reply, Cordelia picked up the plate that was filled with mushy bananas and flung it in his direction.

“Oh God, not my tie. It’s from Prada!” He exclaimed as he ducked to avoid the hit.

(5) *Kit and Ty are reading after hours in the library.*

“It says here, that a Raum demon’s venom doesn’t work immediately, but kills you slowly,” Ty said while he read a passage from the book.

“How long does it take for the victim to die than?” Kit asked.

“Hold on, this is a very old book. The writing has faded over the years. Could you please bring out your witchlight?” Ty said.

Kit reached into his pocket and took something out, “would this help?”

Ty eyed the shining object in Kit’s hands, “what’s that?”

“A Swarovski crystal,” Kit replied.

(6) *Residents of the institute plan to go to the ‘Midnight theatre’.*

“We’re going to be late, if we don’t leave now,” Ty said while he sat at the edge of Kit’s bed.

“I can’t find my silver cuff links,” Kit replied as he rummaged through his drawers.

“Pick another one, you have loads to choose from,” Ty said.

“But the silver ones have your initials, please help me find them,” Kit pleaded.

Ty smiled slightly, got up from the bed and walked towards Kit.

(7) *Kit and Dru plan to visit the shadow market.*

“Have you found a way to disguise yourself while we’re there?” Drusilla asked as she approached Kit near the institute’s entrance.

“Yeah, Givenchy sunglasses,” Kit said while he put them one.

“That’s not going to help,” Drusilla said. “It’s not even sunny outside.”

“It’s more of a fashion accessory than a convenient hindrance against sunlight,” Kit said.

Drusilla rolled her eyes, but followed him out of the institute anyway.

(8) *Kit is giving baby Cordelia a bath.*

“God, your hair grows a lot quicker than mine,” Kit said as he washed off the shampoo.

The baby giggled at the statement and splashed around the small bath tub.

“Bath time is your favourite time of the day, isn’t it?” Kit asked.

Cordelia’s smile grew wider as she noticed a ring glittering on Kit’s finger. She reached out and tried to grab it.

“Uh uh, no way,” Kit began as he moved his hand away. “You’re not having anymore of my rings, especially after the last one fell down the drain.”

(9) *Kit and Ty prepare to go patrolling on Santa Monica pier.*

“Kit, I can’t find my ge-“ Ty began as he walked into the training room. “What are you wearing?”

Kit was standing beside a target board in a casual jumper and jeans.

“It’s quite cold outside. I thought my Burberry, wool jumper would keep me warm,” Kit said.

“We’re going on patrol, not a moonlight walk. It’s best you wear your gear instead,” Ty replied.

“Nope, I should be fine like this,” Kit said.

(10) *Kit and Helen argue over washing clothes.*

“Kit, do you have any clothes that need cleaning?” Helen asked.

“I don’t think so,” Kit said after some thought.

“What about your leather jacket?” Helen said.

“Nope, I’m not putting that in the washing machine with the rest of the clothes after what happened to my other jacket. Oh the horror!” Kit said dramatically.

(11) *Kit and Ty walk around the shopping centre and do window shopping.*

“I don’t know why you wanted to go shopping,” Ty said. “You seem to have a lot of things already.”

“Even I can’t resist sales,” Kit replied.

A few moments passed when Ty felt a tug on his arm. He looked down and noticed that his shirt had caught on Kit’s bracelet.

“Kit!” Ty exclaimed. “This is the third time today your Armani bracelet has done this.”

Kit looked down at both of their arms and attempted to unlink them, “sorry.”

“Maybe its best you take it off,” Ty suggested.

“Erm, absolutely not,” Kit said.

(12) *Kit finds Julian in the art studio on Friday morning.*

“Julian, are you in here? Everyone’s been looking for you,” Kit said as he opened the door to the studio slightly.

“Yeah, I’m just finishing an art work. Is everything ok?” Julian replied.

Julian was standing in front of a canvass. The small paint brush in his hand had a rich, golden colour.

“The children are getting restless because it’s Friday, and you haven’t cooked any pancakes yet,” Kit said.

“Damn,” Julian said as he walked towards Kit. “I can’t believe I forgot.”

Suddenly some paint from the brush fell to the floor, only two inches away from Kit’s Jimmy Choo shoes.

Kit flinched back.

“Oops, sorry,” Julian said.

(13) *Dru and Kit decide to investigate the convergence site.*

“Have you got anything to place your weapons in?” Drusilla asked as they made their way down the staircase.

“Yeah, my Ralph Lauren bag,” Kit replied.

Drusilla gave the bag a long look and than gave Kit a disapproving one, “a weapon’s belt would be best.”

“It’s fine,” Kit said.

“You can’t put knives in there, the bag will get ruined,” Drusilla said.

“Not if they’re sheathed,” Kit replied.

(14) *The New York institute is hosting a Christmas ball, and everyone’s invited.*

“The portal to New York is opened. It’s time to lea-“ Ty began as he approached Kit.

“What?” Kit questioned when he saw Ty’s surprised face.

“You’re not seriously wearing that, are you?” Ty asked.

Kit was dressed formally in a waistcoat, shirt, trousers and bow tie, but he had an Icon cap on his head.

“What’s wrong with it?” Kit said.

“You look like you should be going to a baseball game, not party,” Ty laughed.

“I do not!” Kit protested.

(15) *Kit and Ty are changing into gear.*

“Ty, doesn’t this look great?” Kit asked as he adjusted the cashmere scarf around his neck.

“I’m sure gear isn’t supposed to accommodate any fashionable accessories,” Ty replied.

“I think it’s about time things change than,” Kit said.

“I don’t think so,” Ty said.

“Please, just try the red one,” Kit said while he held out another scarf.

(16) *Dru and Kit are spending time together in her room.*

“What kind of perfumes do you wear?” Kit asked as he examined Drusilla’s dressing table.

“I just borrow Emma’s, and I don’t know their names half of the time,” Drusilla said.

“You should try ‘Daisy’ by Marc Jacobs, it’s supposed to be great,” Kit said.

“Who’s Marc Jacobs, some kind of warlock?” Drusilla asked.

“Yeah,” Kit said with amusement.

(17) *Kit and Mark argue before he goes on patrol.*

“Give it back to me!” Kit cried as he tugged at his Gucci trousers.

“No, you’re not wearing this, it’s too nice. You’ll ruin it,” Mark replied while he pulled gently in retaliation.

“I’ll be extra cautious! Nothing’s going to happen to the trousers,” Kit said.

“I don’t believe that,” Mark said.

(18) *Kit and Ty take a walk on the beach.*

“I thought you always preferred wearing shoes whenever we walked on sand,” Ty said while he examined Kit’s feet.

“I am prepared to make any sacrifice for my Versace trainers,” Kit replied as he held onto his shoes.

“Well at least now you understand how great sand feels under foot,” Ty said.

“It’s like a warm blanket,” Kit sighed.

(19) *Kit and Aline talk before he goes on patrol.*

“What’s that smell?” Aline asked as she approached Kit.

Kit held out a bottle of perfume, “Dolce and Gabbana, do you like it?”

“Are you mad? You’re going demon hunting, not to a fashion show,” Aline exclaimed.

“What’s your point?” Kit said.

“Demons are attracted to nice scents,” Aline said. “You’re a dead man.”

“Not before I kill them first,” Kit said with a grin.

(20) *Kit is attending a Clave meeting.*

“Now, does anyone have suggestions for changes that need to be made to the new government?” Consul Alec asked.

Kit pulled out a Swarovski pen from his pocket, “I think we need to change the way steles are made.”

Alec gave Kit a questioning look, “steles cannot be made without adamas.”

“I know,” Kit said. “Keep the adamas, but I think we should decorate them with valuable gems, like this pen.”

“Kit I don’t think-“ Alec began.

“Please, it will look good,” Kit said.

...

@tdanetwork mission 1: favourite character

An AU of Kit living a completely different lifestyle to the one he’s known.

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bigyack-com · 5 years

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When Department Stores Were Theater

After the hundreds of jobs going poof and the thus-far inadequate discounts, the saddest thing about the closure of Barneys New York is that its signature naughty window displays will recede even further in collective memory.A Hail Mary campaign earlier this year imploring shoppers to go inside even as the store declared bankruptcy (“STRUT STRUT STRUT STRUT STRUT STRUT”) was but a faint echo of the era when subversive tableaus of papier-mâché public figures, found objects, condoms on Christmas trees and the occasional scampering vermin mesmerized crowds, offended cardinals and even sold some clothes.But “we’re in a post-window-display world,” said Simon Doonan, the Barneys O.G. window dresser, in a telephone interview, noting the “impenetrable facade” of Dover Street Market, heir apparent to the luxury avant-garde. Its New York entrance has only small, high apertures above pedestrian eye level.“In the old days, window displays were the primary form of marketing — fashion was the same as butcher shops and fishmongers,” he said. “Now, if you’re waiting till someone walks past your store, you’ve lost the fight.”Indeed, the bustling new Nordstrom on 57th Street dispenses with traditional boxed-in display windows entirely, replacing them with a shallow, wavy facade that John Bailey, a spokesman, assured would be festooned with red and white lights come Black Friday. The facade is “an interactive viewing experience for customers walking by,” he wrote in an email, “connecting the shopping experience in store to the energy of the city.” (And the energy of customers’ phones.) A young employee at the central help desk said elliptically that “our windows are our customer service.”Gather ’round, children, and let Auntie Alexandra tell of when department stores, now mostly glassy, anodyne places you go to exchange online purchases, used to put on a show. Sometimes more entertaining than the theater.First, though, a quick gallop through what remains of New York’s holiday windows in 2019, and the hopeful cornucopias within.At the doomed Barneys flagship on 61st Street, there was of course bubkes, just signs reading: “Everything Must Be Sold! Goodbuys, then Goodbye.” Inside on the fifth floor, female customers were listlessly flipping shoes to glance at the soles and calculate the markdown, as if with muscle memory from the much-lamented warehouse sale. Four creaky flights up, the power lunch spot Fred’s, named for Fred Pressman, Barneys’ charismatic chairman who died in 1996, was full — even as a worker held a headless naked mannequin steady by her neck on a hand truck, waiting for the elevator to go down, down, down.A few blocks away preens Bergdorf Goodman, the beautiful princess whose holding company, Neiman Marcus, muscled recently into the Hudson Yards, like a watchful mother-in-law moving into the guest cottage. There are no old-school windows at the gleaming new Neiman, being that it’s high up off the dirty street in a mall (and incidentally charging kids $72 per head for breakfast with Santa). But at Bergdorf, David Hoey, the store’s senior director of visual presentation, and his team have gamely produced a concept called Bergdorf GoodTimes. Literally gamely. Like, filled with actual games.One window was captioned “Queen’s Gambit” (chess); another, “Jackpot!” (pinball); another, “Winner Take All” (casino — perhaps a dry subconscious commentary on the high-stakes state of retail). Around the corner, a life-size board game, “Up the Down Escalator,” was dotted with fictional gift cards, coin of the online-shopping realm.Mr. Hoey’s sophisticated, colorful creations did not seem intended for little ones — and anyway those were scampering around across the street, splashing in small pools and peering into mirror-glass “sky lenses” outside the Fifth Avenue Apple store. Paging Dr. Lacan!Further east on 59th and Lexington Avenue, dear old Bloomingdale’s was flagrantly violating several of the decorative precepts set out by Mr. Doonan in his seminal 1998 book, “Confessions of a Window Dresser: Tales From a Life in Fashion.” Specifically: “do remember that technology is boring” and “don’t incorporate sex.”If Bergdorf is rolling the dice on the future of the department store — eroded perhaps irrevocably by Amazon’s mighty, corrosive flow — Bloomie’s is searching the stars. Not the celebrities whose daffy effigies used to populate Mr. Doonan’s windows, mostly with enthusiastic cooperation (Madonna, Magic Johnson, Norman Mailer, Prince, Queen Elizabeth), but a lavish commingling of astronomy and astrology titled Out of This World.Robots were placing ornaments on a tree and sitting at a synthesizer ready to play the carol of your choice at the push of a button. Google Nest, a sponsor, was poised to turn on the tree, the lights; the fire. And astronauts were floating in a “3, 2, 1, Gift Off,” or was it a “GIF Off?” Female mannequins embodying various figures of the zodiac were outfitted like go-go dancers, all pearls and feathers and curvature: propped up against each other on a pedestal as a recording played of John Legend singing, incongruously, “Christmas in New Orleans.” Inside, on the main floor, one embodying Cancer the Crab hung upside down from the ceiling: eyes closed, suspended over a hoop, hand-claws splayed, rotating slowly. Her bared, inverted legs conjured less the #MeToo era than the infamous “meat grinder” photo of the June 1978 Hustler magazine that feminists used to protest on Manhattan sidewalks.

Razzle-Dazzle in the Mezzanine

Mr. Doonan had called from Los Angeles, where he was, among other activities, promoting a monograph to commemorate the 50th anniversary of Maxfield, the boutique there. This even though when he was in the window-dressing business, “I was very anti-anniversary and I vetoed all of them. They just made the company seem old and boring. It looks dusty.”Though I agree 100 percent and moreover think the ascription of significance to particular numbers is as ridiculous as astrology, it also happens to be the 40th anniversary of a seismic and undersung event in department-store history: when the performer Elaine Stritch was the M.C. of an elaborate fashion show at Liberty of London, the emporium known for its fine fabrics. (Many women in those years still sewed household clothes from patterns.)Arranged by Peter Tear, then Liberty’s head of marketing and publicity, and choreographed by Larry Fuller of “Evita,” the show somehow managed to cross-promote the low-tar Silk Cut cigarette with a silk congress happening in London. Concordes were deployed with top models on board. Cocktails were concocted by the Café Royal down the road. Fifty-odd designers contributed special outfits for the occasion, including Giorgio Armani, Calvin Klein, Ralph Lauren and Yves Saint Laurent.Another was David Emanuel, who, with his wife and partner, Elizabeth, would design the show’s bridal gown (and later Princess Diana’s).“People gasped,” he said, remembering the Liberty event on a crackly trans-Atlantic phone line. “They were aching for ‘larger than life.’” Mr. Emanuel described Stritch — subject of my recently published biography, “Still Here” (hey, it’s the selling season) — in a sequined tuxedo jacket, singing among other numbers “Falling in Love Again” à la Marlene Dietrich to the enraptured ladies who lunch who had paid five quid admission apiece for the show, which ran thrice daily over the course of a week. “It has more punch and pulchritude packed into its 51 minutes than most West End musicals twice as long,” one newspaper commented.Mr. Doonan theorized that Liberty, fighting a dainty, twin-set image, had taken inspiration from what the storied retailer Marvin Traub was doing then at Bloomingdale’s. “The whole thing was that the store was the stage — the razzle-dazzle of flash and pizazz and lo and behold, there’s a swimwear fashion show with Pat Cleveland coming down the escalator,” he said. “Every day was ‘curtain up!’ at Bloomingdale’s.”Truly, what could be more of an ultimate fantasy set than the department store of yore, with its infinite “costumes,” props and built-in risers, its endless potential for comedy, dance, drama and even horror? Florenz Ziegfeld’s pre-code movie “Glorifying the American Girl,” showcasing his Follies, starts in one. The heroic airman in “The Best Years of Our Lives” returned to work as a soda jerk in another; ennobled by the theater of war, he chafed at his diminishment in the feminine one of trade.Barbra Streisand gamboled through Bergdorf in 1965 for her TV special, trying on fur coats and hats, spritzing perfume and singing a Fanny Brice-ish medley of “Second Hand Rose” and “Brother Can You Spare a Dime” to funny and glamorous effect. James Goldman and Stephen Sondheim’s “Twilight Zone”-inflected broadcast musical, “Evening Primrose,” was set in a department store called Stern’s, and featured a poet played by Anthony Perkins remaining after-hours, giddy at the idea of the creativity that his solitude, enhanced by all the products he needs, will stimulate. At one point he stands on an escalator belting, “I’m here! I’m here!” foreshadowing the famous anthem in Goldman and Sondheim’s own “Follies” taken up late in life by Stritch. (Later a young woman he discovers there sings of remembering snow: “Soft as feathers/ Sharp as thumbtacks.” She had been left there, in Hats, as a child by her preoccupied mother, but now with climate change the lyric sounds like prescient ecological lament.)Even after the fiasco of Andrew McCarthy at Philadelphia’s Wanamaker’s (R.I.P.) in “Mannequin” 20 years later, and the slow creep of the suburban mall, there was yet another remake of “Miracle on 34th Street.”“Where did Auntie Mame go when she lost all her money?” Mr. Doonan reminded. “Selling roller skates at Macy’s.”It’s hard to imagine, though not impossible, that department stores will remain important sites of commerce and culture much longer. But the largest one in the city is not about to go quietly. At Macy’s, which takes up an entire block, there is a jumble of every sort of window.There are old-fashioned windows devoted to the story of Virginia O’Hanlon, the little girl who wrote to The New York Sun in 1897 asking if there was still a Santa Claus. Around the corner, there are high-tech windows giving voice to a little girl who wants to be Santa Claus. And around another corner: still other windows filled simply with giant Barbies. Being female in the early 21st century is nothing if not a series of mixed messages, but this attempt to empower seemed already antiquated; if Mr. Doonan were still working on windows, surely he would have gone straight for Mx. Claus?The ghost of Barneys yet to come is at Saks Fifth Avenue, which has licensed its former rival’s name, and where windows have been themed with glittering corporate efficiency to the international blockbuster “Frozen 2.” This may delight the tourists, but city dwellers remembering the craft and chance and silliness of the old holiday extravaganzas — when the designers and the famous people and the window dressers were all sticking pins in each other, and the audiences crowded four-deep on the pavement for the free sideshow — will probably be left cold. Source link Read the full article

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gershartmaster · 1 year

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: New rare & Unique Armani Exchange Genuine Leather Belt, 36.

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lostinsantacarla · 6 years

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A Visitor from SoCal

Note: Thought I might share a snippet of what we’ve been writing. This story takes place shortly before Mae is introduced to the rest of the Lost Boys gang inside the old hotel. The parts for Mae and Veronica were written by @thesparklingpariah /Marko and David are all mine. ;-)

Mae kept no set schedule, preferring to come and go as she pleased, since the whims of the paying public were extremely fickle. What that meant in English was that she took random days off, depending on how busy things were the day before. Yesterday had been a good day for sales, so she’d decided to treat herself to a day of being lazy, which had culminated in a walk along the pier all the way to the end, just because she felt like it. The breeze was cool this far along the water, and she stood by the railing, her eyes closed as she took it all in. Mae was the only person at the edge; most of the tourists were either heading home or still on the rides. The end of summer meant fewer guests and space was no longer at a premium.

The relative silence was broken by the tide…and the click of heels along the wooden boards. If it weren’t for the wind blowing in just the right direction at just the right time, Mae would have ignored whoever was heading her way, but the scent on the wind made her heart sink to her feet: the sickly sweet smell of decay and the heady florals of Marc Jacobs perfume. Shit. Mae whipped around, coming face to face with a woman she hoped to never see again: Veronica, “daughter” of Miguel, third-in-command of the Los Angeles coven. Her ex-girlfriend.

“Hello, sweetie.” Veronica purred, her deep, rich voice curling around Mae’s ears like a cat. She’d never trusted cats.

“Veronica. I assume this isn’t a friendly visit?” Mae growled, sticking her hands in her pockets. She wrapped her hand around her switchblade.

“Just here to see how you’re doing.” Veronica shrugged, her own hands in her Armani jacket. Despite the strong breeze, she looked perfectly unruffled.

“You mean you’re here to see if I’m still alive.”

“Precisely.”

Marko had just punched out for the night, his jacket hanging haphazardly over one shoulder as he slipped out the back doors and into the narrow, makeshift alley behind the Seabreeze.

His pockets were full of dough, tips from the many patrons he’d served, and the dollars kept falling out, even after he’d secured the colorful garment over both shoulders. It put a smile on his face as he bent down to pick them up one by one, chasing after a couple as the breeze from the ocean tried to sweep them away.

One foot stepped out of the shadows and his keen ears caught the echo of voices in the opposite direction. One was familiar, and he straightened, sniffing the air.

He’d only scented Mae once, but he never forgot it, and knew right away that one of the figures was her. The second, another female, was not human at all, but it was not one of theirs. This was cause for concern. It seemed that even with all of Dwayne’s efforts, their borders kept getting breached.

He growled, shaking his head as he turned and made haste, cursing his beloved town for always stirring things up when all he wanted to do was smoke a joint with Paul, get some fresh blood in his gut, and then head on over to Cassidy’s.

He slowed as he neared the two, getting a good eyeful of the other female, just to make sure he knew what he was up against. Then with a smile that could melt the panties off a human woman, he sauntered up. “Evenin,'” he greeted, taking a firm stance in front of them, while managing to keep it somewhat congenial by sticking his hands in his loaded pockets.

Veronica’s gaze could seduce both men and women, regardless of their preferences, and then stab them in the alley and take all their money. A hint of malice lay behind her eyes; Mae was sure that Veronica expected her to be the same weak-hearted girl she was when Veronica dumped her. Mae refused to be cowed. Those days were over.

“Well, here I am. ALIVE.” Mae looked down her nose at Veronica, her posture rigid. Túlio had spent weeks trying to teach her poise and elegance so she could fit in with the “posh” sides of vampire society, and that included how to stare down an enemy when you couldn’t kill them. She wasn’t sure it was working.

“That you are, sweetie.” Veronica laughed, the sound deceptively gentle.

“So what are you going to do now?” Mae raised an eyebrow, mentally back again in the trenches of the L.A. vampire world.

Before Veronica could speak, Marko appeared out of nowhere, seemingly. Mae felt a bit of relief; they’d only met once, but he was one of David’s men, and that meant protection, or at least, someone to keep an eye on Veronica. The woman in question turned to face him, sniffing haughtily at him.

“And who are you?” Her voice dripped with disdain. “Who do you serve?”

One of Marko’s eyebrows shot straight up at the nerve of this vampire in his town, asking HIM who he was and who he served, so naturally, he turned cheeky and his grin went from ear to ear.

“Satan. Hell… but mostly, I serve myself.” It didn’t seem like his grin could get any bigger, but it did, taking on that Cheshire cat presence before he spoke again. “Oh, and uh, sometimes when I’m feelin’ nice, the newbie’s like Mae, who might need a hand. ‘Cuz you just never know when some stray mutt is gonna come wandering into town, ya know?”

He shrugged, but even in that smile his expression changed. It challenged the newcomer, the intruder, and he changed his position, hooking his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans.

Mae wasn’t sure if Veronica would put up a fight, but if she did, and Marko won, that could mean trouble for Santa Carla. Miguel, like all the older vampires she knew, was a vindictive son of a bitch. She projected her thoughts towards Marko as best as she could, hoping that Veronica was too caught up in herself to pick up on what Mae was doing.

Don’t kill her! It’ll just cause trouble. Her father’s the leader of the Los Angeles coven, and there’s hundreds of them!’ Mae hoped it would come across clearly. She did her best to look calm, but she was barely keeping herself from shaking in rage and panic. Being confronted with a visual and verbal reminder that she’d been sent away to die (with her best friend in the world seemingly kept in the dark about it) destroying what little calm she ever had around Veronica before this.

“Very funny, little man. Are all you backwater vampires like this, or are you just a special case. Who. Do. You. Serve?” Veronica repeated haughtily.

“They don’t play that game out here, Veronica.” Mae tried to stop her ex from further antagonizing Marko, but she knew it was no use.

Marko shrugged carelessly, making it obvious that he was hearing something coming out of Mae’s mind. He had no intention of killing anybody in front of him, but he damn well wasn’t going to put up with the prissy, higher than thou attitude.

He kept quiet for a little while longer, starring down Veronica to see how pissed off she could get, all the while sending out a mental alert to David.

“Actually, I think we should turn this around. You can start by telling me who YOU serve and why the hell you’re running around my town acting like the Queen of fucking Egypt.”

“Veronica, daughter of Miguel, ruler of the Los Angeles coven and son of Dracula.” Veronica grinned, acting as if she’d drawn four aces in the world’s most unfair poker match. Mae wanted to smack her ex upside the head, but she DID recall that she was kind of like that too when she’d first met Marko. Still, that had been about survival, not showing someone up.

“I told you, V, they don’t play that game here. Names don’t mean anything.” Mae sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Look, you’ve gotten what you came for, okay? I’m still alive, I plan on staying alive, and if Miguel wants me dead, he better come up with a better way of doing it than this. Túlio will find out about all of this sooner or later, you know that, right? I know Miguel likes to make things into a telenovela, but this is getting old. Take your bitch ass home and leave me alone!” She snarled, her anger finally winning out over her good sense.

SMACK!

A loud slap rang across the pier as Veronica’s open palm connected with Mae’s cheek. “How DARE you speak of my father so poorly? And what is that you called me, Mae? A bitch? Sweetie, you think that’s an insult to me?” She sneered. “Remember your place.”

Marko didn’t get a chance to react. All he saw was a glimpse of something moving fast out of the corner of his eye and a savage roar, and he knew it was David.

The leader of the Santa Carla pack snarled and grabbed hold of the outsider, throwing her with ease down the length of the pier without care.

It was late enough now that no one would notice the scuffle, at least no human would.

He said nothing, but pulled Mae up behind him and took a hard stance, ready for anything this Veronica was willing to throw at him.

“You’re out of line.” His voice was deep and heavy and louder than usual. “You have no place here, and your filthy hands don’t belong anywhere on something that belongs to me now. You got a problem with that, crawl back to the one who sent her here to die.”

Now it was on, and Marko put on his game face. He didn’t change into the monster that he was, but he stood his ground beside David and Mae, looking down the pier to where the fallen lay.

He chuckled in spite of himself, eyeing Mae behind David and winked at her.

Veronica had no time to brace for the blow or dodge it, something the vampire wasn’t used to. She landed in a heap at the end of the pier, her face and any bare skin scraped from the force of the impact. Despite being dazed, she leapt to her feet, reeling from the blow. Her forte was speed and cunning; she stood no chance against a vampire that was this strong… and this angry, especially when he had an ally with him. Veronica considered drawing her knife, but she was above all else a survivor. Tonight wasn’t her night to die.

“So… I assume YOU’RE the one he serves. David, wasn’t it? We heard about you. Had a little trouble a few decades ago, right? You’ve recovered nicely. Congratulations.” She spat the blood out from her mouth where she’d bit into her cheek during her fall.

Mae placed her hand on David’s lower back, the gesture out of sight of Veronica, but she was sure Marko saw it. She was silently asking him to hold back. She nodded at Marko, then stepped to the left so she could see Veronica better. Her cheek was bright red.

“Go home, Veronica.” She growled, keeping her head held high despite the pain. “Tell Miguel to leave me alone. Túlio’s a good man; if Miguel wants to make him a psycho like you, he’ll never succeed. Tell him I’m staying here, in Santa Carla. He can have L.A.”

“… Got yourself a new boyfriend, huh?” Veronica sneered, deciding to throw in one last dig at Mae. “Or is this just an arrangement, huh? You always were a little slut.” She laughed, turning her attention to David. “You can keep her…for as long as it lasts. Miguel wants her dead, and Father always gets what he wants.”

Marko felt the air lighten around them as soon as Veronica departed and he blew air through his lips while running a hand through his messy curls. “Just another night, huh boss?”

David turned to Mae and cupped both her cheeks in his gloved hands, gently brushing over the red spot with his thumb. “You could say that,” he said to Marko. “We need better security around here.”

“Dwayne’s messing up? He’s gotten busy, what with a kid on the way.”

“Nah. I can’t expect him to keep his eyes on every single foot of ground we have here. It’s too vast. We’ll need to think of something else from now on. There’s too many coming through.” For a second he looked out to sea and then down at Mae. “You all right?”

“I will be.” Mae nodded, her voice shaky, just like the rest of her. She was doing her best to fight of the urge to cry, but her eyes were watering and her body was shivering. The adrenaline from the hit and the potential fight was beginning to wear off, and she finally felt the sting from the slap. She wasn’t quite sure what she was feeling, but anger was definitely warring for the top spot, followed closely by an utter breakdown. She hoped anger won.

She took a deep breath, then turned to face Marko. “Thank you. For helping me.” Mae didn’t want to think about what might have happened if Marko hadn’t come by.

“Yeah you owe me.” He jerked his head up and grinned. Of course he was teasing, but she was still new, and he couldn’t let her get off that easy. Besides, breaking the tension was the name of the game. He pulled a small bottle of rum from the inside of his jacket and offered it to her. “It’ll help take the edge off. Trust me. Still cold too, if ya just wanna hold it against your cheek.”

“Marko,” David warned, but he was only half serious. He wanted to brush it off as a victory, but there were too many things weighing on him now, even if the threat of a war with the vampires in LA was minimal compared to the angels ready to reign in hell and unleash it on Santa Carla.

Mae laughed it off. “Sure thing. Come by the booth. I’ll give you the friends and family discount.” She winked, taking the rum and drinking a mouthful before putting it on her face. “Damn, that feels good.”

After a few moments, she handed it back to Marko. “Don’t want it getting too warm.” She really wanted to lean into David and take a moment to collect herself, but she wasn’t sure he would welcome it in front of one of his men. Instead, she scrubbed at her eyes and glared at the empty end of the pier.

“You can see why we broke up.”

“She’s full of herself,” was all David had to say about that.

Marko nodded and took the bottle back before giving Mae a ‘see you later’ salute and headed on his way. He could tell by the look on David’s face that he needed a few moments alone with Mae.

After Marko was out of sight, he turned to Mae and examined her cheek a little closer. Considering the hit was from another vampire, the impact was a little more damaging than just a mortal’s slap. “You should put some ice on that. Or I could fix it for you right now. I just want you to know that I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re safe here, and now. I’d like to take you to our home tonight. If you’re willing to come.”

“THAT is an understatement.” Mae huffed, rubbing at her cheek.

She waved at Marko, watching him go until David faced her once again. Her first instinct was to blurt out something mushy, like ‘I’d go anywhere with you’, but luckily she saved herself from looking like an idiot. Still, she blushed a little, resting her hands on his waist. She was still fighting off tears, but she ignored them for now.

“Could you fix it, please?” She asked, smiling softly. “And yes. I’ll come home with you.” Then, she remembered something, and her grin became a strange mix of teasing and adoring.

“So… I belong to you now?”

David simply pierced the pad of his thumb with the extension of one of his claws and when a bead of his blood pooled there, he gently smeared it across her cheekbone, making sure it absorbed thoroughly before answering her. The effects of its healing ability would be instant and the pain would disappear.

He had noted her smile, acting as if it was nothing, something that important, even though it was. Getting a rise out of her was fun, and he pushed the moment to the point of no return, when there was no other choice but to answer. It was just like sex, letting the pleasure build until all there was left was an explosion that took you above the clouds and to the stars.

“Would it be a problem if I said you did?” He pulled his hand away from her cheek to admire his handy work. “I press the point of taking this slow, but you’re here now, and I just threatened another pack member’s existence, all for you.” Now he looked her directly in the eyes, his expression complete business. Yet behind that crystal blue there was an undenying look of need. “You are mine now, aren’t you?” Would he let her go even if she said no? Probably not.

Mae met his gaze, her own softening when she saw the deeply hidden need. He wanted her, and she wanted him. She’d wanted him since she met him, not just because she was lonely, but because he was so enchanting. Dark and brooding, like many of his kind, but also secretly gentle and caring, if you’d earned it. He’d nearly killed for her. He didn’t care what her connections were or where she came from, but who she was. She wanted him forever.

She’d be damned if she let him go.

“I was yours the moment I followed you out of the bar. You earned me when you didn’t care about who I knew, but who I am.” She smiled, the gesture no longer burdened by pain or fear.

“I’m yours, David. And you’re mine, aren’t you?”

There was a little hesitation on his end, only because sentimental words weren’t his forte and he was still afraid to make a mistake, yet as the notary he’d already signed and closed the deal.

He offered her his hand, palm side up, like an old fashioned gentlemen. “Down to the last detail,” he said with an earnest grin.

Mae laughed in delight, all the turmoil of the day forgotten as she took his hand.

“Good.”

#the lost boys #lost boys #writing #role play #one shot #fan fic #David #Marko #Mae #Veronica #OC's

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