#like high key this was inspired by that dress reference

[toxicanonymity]

the narrative.

4.7k, darkish!Javi Gutierrez x f!reader

"Control the narrative. You probably say that when you cum." - Roman Roy, Succession, s1 e1. PREMISE: Javi is in the middle of a publicity disaster due to his illegal activities and big mouth. Enter you (and he will). Penthouse vibe and attire inspired by Justified City Primeval. WARNINGS: I8+ ONE SHOT, dark(ish?) Javi, canon-typical lack of realism, drug references, gratuitous bulge, alcohol, praise, mention of someone sucking Javi's dick in the past, unprofessional behavior, power dynamics, pressure, DUBCON unsafe p in v (etc.), mild gun play, romance. A/N: Dedicated to @noxturnalpascal 🖤 Never thought I'd start the year with this guy, but thots happened. I only have one other Javi G. fic.

When you show up to Javi's home in the Hollywood hills, you're mildly surprised the car is stopping. It looks like any other skyrise. It's not his main residence, but he has the whole top floor to himself. You’ve refreshed yourself on the task during the ride – Javi Gutierrez is a PR nightmare lately, and he needs to be reminded how to handle press, especially questions about his recent run-ins with the law and ties to his family business. You'll run through a few practice questions with him, refresh him on the way to his event, and say goodbye. It should be simple. 

On your way into Javi’s building, the concierge greets you, then makes polite conversation as he escorts you to the penthouse. 

"Mr. Gutierrez already has company," he mentions as he uses a key card then holds the door open for you. 

You step into Javi’s apartment and the door closes behind you. It feels intrusive, just showing up in his personal space without someone to introduce you.  It's quiet for a moment, and you take in the opulence -- the sky high ceilings, the glittery floor sparkling under your modest wedge heels. You adjust your little black dress and fix your hair, then stand and wait with your bag.

You take a deep, calming breath. At least this isn’t a celebrity you have a crush on. He isn’t necessarily your type. He seems like such a teddy bear. He’ll be cool. He’s down to earth, you tell yourself, but can’t think of any evidence to support that claim. What kind of company does he have, you wonder. Is it a woman?

"One more, one more," Javi begs out of view, and your breath hitches at his voice. It's not the pitch or measured cadence you hear in the movies or even interviews. It's deep, gruff, and unpolished. "One more, Nick." 

Your heart jumps at the name. 

Nick sighs. "Alright, what are we drinking to?"

"Balas y drogas," Javi booms. (Bullets and drugs). "Brindemos" (cheers). 

"As always," Nick monotones, and you hear their glasses clink. A few seconds later, boots begin to click and echo, and they're coming in your direction. 

Entranced by the sparkle of the floor, you see a pair of snakeskin boots cross in front of you first. The boots pause, and your gaze pans up over his unexpectedly bare legs, which are muscular and only slightly hairy. Your eyes continue up over the swell of his thighs, and then–by the time you see it, it’s too late not to look right at it--a generous bulge under a blue striped swimsuit. You yank your eyes upward so fast, you almost don't see the gold pistol he’s holding at his side. Javi raises an empty highball glass, gestures it toward you, and you're studying the rings his hand when he complains, "You are early." He taps a ring on the glass and looks around behind you. “They sent you alone?”

“Yes, Mr. Gutierrez.” You introduce yourself. When you speak, he holds surprisingly warm eye contact, given his opening line. It feels like he’s really seeing you, maybe even connecting with you. 

“Please, call me Javi.” He walks around the counter and makes no effort to close his silk robe, trailing behind him.  "Make yourself a drink," he nods toward a wet bar behind him as he puts his glass in the sink. His curls are a mess, but he doesn't look bad. His strong chest glistens under his gold chain.  "Make Nick something, too. NICK--" 

"I'm right here, Javi. I really have to go." Nick greets you with an unenthused nod, "Hi,” then his phone rings and he quickly bids farewell to Javi: "I'll see ya later bud." Nick slowly staggers toward the door as he answers the phone. 

-

As the door closes behind Nick, Javi watches your face. "He has a key, you know. He'll be back," then he again urges you toward the wet bar, slightly more politely this time.  "Please, help yourself.  Why did they send you so early?"

"I'm an hour late," you tell him. His security team stalled you because he wasn’t ready.

He looks at his gold watch. "Mierda" (Shit). He meets your gaze again with apologetic eyes. "An hour late. . . maybe I do like you. . ."  The third time he refers you to the bar, you go around the counter and at least browse his liquor selection. 

A few minutes later, you're mindlessly reading the liquor bottles when you see a reflection in a bottle of mezcal. Something moves behind you.

"Tequila," Javi murmurs a few inches from your ear. “If you cannot decide.” You stiffen but manage not to jump, or so you think. "Relax, mamacita.” A large, warm hand comes to your bare shoulder, making your chest get hot. Javi’s lips brush the shell of your ear. “Relax,” he repeats. “It is only Javi.” He smells faintly of pipe or hookah smoke.

He lingers for a moment, smells your hair, then his hand trails down your bicep, and butterflies rush through your body so fast you have to step away.  He looks only slightly bemused. He checks you out even more obviously this time, then silently walks backwards through the kitchen, and you forget not to stare. You follow the way the light highlights his little belly. His happy trail leads you right to the slight swing and jiggle of the massive lump precariously contained by that swimsuit. How much of it is balls, you wonder. And at that moment, he reaches down to adjust himself before turning around and heading to his bedroom. 

Your face is on fire, and you’re tingling down South. You pour yourself a drink. You need one. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer quite a view of the city. It feels like Javi is taking a long time. In the distance, he begins to sing. You didn’t expect to be attracted to him, but now you have this feeling in your chest, like you’re waiting for a date with someone you like. Someone you’re still getting to know. You try to brush it off and not read too much into the look in his eyes. He’s an actor. He probably knows how to make people feel special, you remind yourself, but you can’t help but feel a little giddy as you wait. 

You take a seat on his velvet sectional. You sip your drink and begin to feel more confident. When you go to put your drink down on the nearest coffee table, there isn't much space amid the array of empty bottles and glasses, and a hookah. You set your drink on a silver tray, and only then do you realize you've disrupted the geometric residue of tiny white lines. “Shit,” you whisper. 

While Javi gets ready, you read some of his past quotes to the press. It messes with your head. Sure, he was rude to you at first, but then so warm. There’s one particular quote you’re stuck on. It isn’t too hard to imagine him saying something like this. You catch yourself feeling sad about it, not because it was so rude of him, but because of the insinuation of him with another woman.  In your mind, you know this feeling is irrational after having only interacted with Javi for only a moment. You have to compose yourself into professional mode again. 

—-

Javi returns freshly showered, wearing slacks and a patterned, long-sleeve, button-up shirt that hugs his biceps. He checks you out as he fastens his last cuff link. Then he sucks in his stomach and tucks in his shirt by shoving his hands all the way into his pants. He keeps eye contact with you as he tucks in the front, and finishes it off with a subtle cup of his balls. Then he stands normally again, and the curve of his little belly presses against the shirt above his pants. He doesn't put on a belt. He gestures for you to walk in front of him. 

Javi stays close on the way downstairs. On the elevator, you can feel his breath on your cheek. When the doors open, his hand on your back ushers you out. The soft padding of his stomach grazes your arm.

—-

Back outside Javi’s apartment, the car you arrived in – the one that picked you up at the Dobis PR office – is gone. You’ll ride in Javi’s car. His security team wants to accompany the two of you in the vehicle, and it’s clear they normally ride with Javi. But Javi convinces them to follow in another car this time. Just this once. You get into a black Mercedes sprinter outfitted with a raised roof, big leather bench seat, and a bar. 

As you settle into the van, Javi is making sure you’re comfortable, making small talk, and you just want to chat with him, but you do have a job to do. He’s sitting in the corner of the bench in the very back of the van, and you’re next to him, with your body mostly facing him. You begin to broach the topic at hand, distracted by his closeness and the aftershave molecules wafting into your nostrils. “Okay Javi, so, I’m familiar with your, uh, difficulties with law enforcement recently, and my role here is to kinda help you help yourself with that in the press.”  

He nods. 

“So let’s start where we are. Do you remember what you said when Page Six asked for a comment?”

He briefly leans in the opposite direction from you to open the minifridge. He pulls out a bottle of champagne. “Page Six, remind me which one is that.”

Is he going to make you say it? Fine. “You don't remember telling the writer her lips were made to suck your dick?” 

“That was out of context,” he mutters. You search his face for whether it‘s a joke, but he’s not laughing, and he’s not meeting your eyes.  

You ask, “Is there a context where that’s a good comment to make?” And you hope it lands softer than it sounds to your own ears. 

“Yes,” Javi nods and brushes a curl out of his forehead. He shifts in the seat and wrings his hand around the neck of the champagne bottle in his lap. “With a cock in her mouth.” Hearing the word cock in his voice gives you a zing of arousal. 

You’re at a loss for words. “Are you saying you weren't answering a question when you said that?”

“The conversation was over,” Javi nods. 

“--And she had your–”

“My cock, yes,” he confirms. “In her mouth.” He reads your face, then shrugs. “She wanted a taste of Javi, and I am afraid I could not resist.” Your mind is going places - How did that happen, you wonder. Did she just drop to her knees? Does it happen all the time? Could you have a taste of Javi? Do you want one? No, you don’t want to be just another girl.

You and Javi look at each other for a moment, neither of you completely focused, then you say the only thing you can think to say, “Fair enough,” as you close your folio. Then you can’t help but add, “Optimally, it's not the best idea to sleep with. . . certain people . . .who can make you look bad.” The thought falls apart as you watch his face, and you wonder if you're overstepping. 

“It was only a mouth,” Javi clarifies, then lowers his voice. “I would never make the love to her.” 

Now his eyes are fixed on your lips. His mind is going places. You watch him salivate over the shape of your mouth and don’t dare to interrupt his filthy train of thought. But that bulge in his swim trunks is seared in your mind. The subtle way it moved with each step. You have to stare at anything else to keep your eyes off his pants. You look at the bits of silver in his beard and the sparkle in his eyes

“Hm?” he asks and you snap out of your trance. 

“We need to control the narrative,” you mumble, as if you're thinking about work. 

“I don’t have a narrative, I have the truth. And the truth is too dangerous, mami.” He extends an arm behind you. 

The intrigue shakes you from your dirty thoughts. You shouldn’t pry, so you try not to, but having heard his explanation for the Page Six comment, you’re wondering if there really is a good explanation for how he got caught riding dirty with both narcotics and unregistered weapons.

He scoots closer, so he’s mostly on your bench rather than in the corner, and he extends an arm behind you. “I have to say, you are a smart girl.” He brushes your shoulder with his thumb. “Very pretty, too,” he adds quietly. “And very smart not to ask.”

“Thanks,” you mumble. What else can you say?

He looks you over, and his face hardens in an instant. “You should fire them,” he says. “They put a pretty girl like you in a van with me.” He scoffs. “They don’t respect you, I’m sorry to say.” 

What is that supposed to mean? You stare at him blankly, then say, “I can’t fire them, I work for them.”

“Well then you should fire your job. Quit it, the job.” You suppose he’s that out of touch. He probably doesn’t even know how much rent is in LA. Increasingly incredulous, he asks, “They sent you here alone?” 

Your mouth feels dry. You nod and try to swallow. 

His face softens. “No, please do not be scared,” he tries to recover, cupping your shoulder warmly with his palm. “But they should care more about you. You are precious.” 

“Well. . . Thanks, I think I’ll be okay,” you stammer.

Javi chuckles and locks all the doors to the van. Your upper body quickly goes cold as he settles in again next to you, his knee touching yours. How did he even do that?

He smiles darkly. “You felt that, right? In your spine?” His thumb brushes the nape of your neck, then the top of your spine.

You nod, otherwise paralyzed. 

“Fire them,” he repeats in a whisper.

You stand up just an inch to smooth your dress, and before you can sit back down, the van lurches out of nowhere.  You’re propelled face-first into Javi’s arms. The unopened bottle of champagne rolls away. Your faces are only a few inches apart. His shirt is soft, his body is warm, and you’re breathing his minty breath. The van lurches again and he hugs you into him, protectively. 

“I apologize, sir,” the driver announces through a speaker. 

You slowly begin to sit up from him. His arms are slow to release you. As you sit up, he lays a hand on your thigh. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I should warn you,” he murmurs. “Traffic is very bad here.” 

—--

You sit there with Javi’s arm behind you and his other hand on your thigh, and neither of you speaks. He’s practically enveloping you with his whole body.

“You are thinking about it, right?”  

The pitch of his voice and a nod toward your skirt tells you what he’s talking about, and you don’t answer.  He takes his hand off your thigh only to adjust himself, and your face heats up. 

He sighs. “So, if you are the press, what should I say right now?”

After a loaded beat of silence, you snap out of it and begin to ramble, “Well, I haven't asked you a question, so you don't have to say anything, in fact, unless they ask–”

He reaches for your face. He rests four fingers on the side of your face, then brushes his thumb over your lips. “Shh. I won't say it,” he whispers. “That this press is the most beautiful girl. . .” Your lips part and let his thumb into your mouth, but your tongue pulls back.

“That I need her. . .in a way I cannot explain.” You gasp and look down. He takes his thumb  out of your mouth, then his hand drifts to his pants. “That I want to twist her legs around me like a pretzel.” The glint of his rings catches your eye, slowly moving atop his pants. His eyelids are heavy. “I should not say it, right?” 

You look at his mouth then meet his eyes again and shake your head no, ever so slightly. 

“But I can think it,” he whispers with a nod. “I can feel it,” he nods with a raise of his eyebrows. “Dios mio. . . I can have it.” 

He hugs you, slides a hand under your opposite thigh, and swiftly pulls you into straddling him with your knees on the seat and your skirt hanging loosely in his lap. You aren’t wearing stockings, but you’re wearing modest boy shorts. His hips lift up to meet you as he pulls you down with a sigh. His warm package feels even bigger than it looked. He closes his eyes and runs his hands over your back as your loins throb against each other. 

He holds your body firmly in place for a few gentle little thrusts that make you gush with each push of his bulge. Then, satisfied that you're not going anywhere, he pulls your face in for a long, steamy kiss, with his rings pressed against your cheek. As he feeds you his tongue, his hips keep moving, slowly pressing himself against you.

He pulls his face away and asks, “Do we have to go to this thing?” 

“No,” you say, pleased at this turn of events. He cups your head, and you explain, “Not at all. We wanted you to lay low. But you insisted-”

“I want to lay low with you,” he murmurs against your cheek. “Let me lay with you.”  Your insides are throbbing and swelling. His lips and the slightest hint of his teeth drag down your neck while his thick manhood hardens more against the crotch of your boy shorts. “I'll give you more than a taste, Mamacita. We're going to lay together.”  

He asks the driver to take you back to his place. Then he latches onto your neck, and you let out a little moan.  The van turns around to head back to his place. 

“I just need to text the team,” you tell him and get off his lap. You straighten your dress and begin to text your manager.  While you're on your phone, he keeps kissing and nibbling at you. 

Your manager calls, and you clear your throat. Javi occupies himself by popping open the bottle of champagne. You receive accolades for talking him out of the event. 

—--

When you're off the phone, Javi has somewhat composed himself. “Now we have all night.” He hands you a flute of champagne. A voice comes over the intercom saying there's a security matter Mr. Gutierrez needs to be briefed on. The van pulls over and Rafael, Javi’s head of security, joins you. 

“Your brother is back,” Rafael tells him. “And he's not happy about what you took.”

“Puta Madre,” Javi grumbles. “You know what he would have done with it.” 

“I know,” Rafi nods. 

“I have plans tonight, Rafi.” Javi looks at you adoringly. “The most important plans of my life.” He turns back to Rafi.  “Do you see this beautiful woman? We have plans.” 

“You have to stay with me,�� Javi tells you. “I’ll keep you safe.” 

When you arrive back at Javi’s place, Rafi insists on escorting the two of you up to the penthouse. The place has already been cleaned up, and a maid is on her way out. 

“Thank you, Sandy,” Javi says as she passes by. She nods. 

——-

You excuse yourself to freshen up while Javi rants to Rafael. There's a crashing noise and you take your time coming back from the restroom, unsure what awaits. 

You come back to the main room and put your bag on a stool at the counter. Rafael is on his way out to stand guard by the door. Javi is sitting on the sofa with his pants off and his shirt unbuttoned, holding his gold pistol against his thigh. 

“I asked Rafi to give us some privacy,” Javi says. “We will not let this ruin our night.” He looks at you hungrily. “Come. Sit.” He makes space in his lap and looks down at himself. He’s wearing black boxer briefs.

You straddle him but don't sit yet. His free hand slides up the back of your thigh and he grabs a handful of ass. “You are the most beautiful woman,” he sighs. “And you feel so good in my hands.”

With his other hand, Javi nudges the golden gun under your skirt, and the metal on your bare thigh makes you flinch. “Shhh.”  He slowly slides the barrel along your inner thigh where the hem of your underwear is. He slides it lightly back and forth, breathing deeply through his nose. Then, his lips part as he rubs it along the damp crotch of your boy shorts. Your whole body erupts in goosebumps. He watches your face as he rubs you with the barrel of his pistol. He angles it upward each time he reaches your front. 

He palms your ass at the same rhythm as he massages you with the gun, as if encouraging you to ride it. Then he holds it still between his legs, pulls you closer against it, and your hips move on their own, seeking more pressure against the barrel. You twitch and gasp and he sucks in a deep breath through his nose. He moves you on the gun and you grind against the barrel until you’re almost at the edge and your thighs are trembling. 

“Good girl,” he sighs. He brings the side of the barrel to his nose and sniffs. Then he makes eye contact with you as he presses his lips to the side of the barrel and dips his tongue onto the metal.  He kisses the gun goodbye, then puts it aside. “I will keep you safe,” he reassures you again. 

Javi takes your hand in his and puts it on the hard bulge and you almost come. He’s so big, and so hard, the seams of his boxer briefs must be ready to burst. He uses your hand to massage himself. At the same time, he grabs the back of your head and pulls you into him for a passionate kiss. Your palm begins to massage his shaft. Feeling the hard shape of him, you can tell how thick he is, and it's more than a handful. Your fingers cradle his balls as you massage the lower part of his shaft. He pulls his underwear down and your skin meets his bare cock.

Both his palms engulf your ass cheeks and he lifts your dress all the way up over your ass so he can see your hips before desperately pulling you fully onto him. He smacks your ass, then kneads it again and licks into your mouth as he grinds up against you. 

He gropes your breasts and pulls your dress all the way up, taking it over your head. His hands find your bra clasp, and he frees your breasts, taking one to his mouth right away. He reaches into your smooth, stretchy boy shorts and gasps at the feeling of your bare, dripping cunt. He holds his cock in his hand and brings the tip to the bottom seam of your underwear. He wedges his cock into the garment, resting against your inner thigh, then a little further, and the bare skin of his tip nudging between your slippery folds makes you weak in the knees. He puts his cock all the way into your underwear from the bottom, wet from your slick, and pulls you tight against him. You grind together and his shaft massages your clit. The pressure builds and quickly boils over, and you moan as you begin to pulse against him. 

“Oh, my love,” Javi sighs, then moans as you grind and come against his cock in your panties. “Such a pretty sight and sound.”

With pleasure still washing over you, he wraps an arm tight around you, turns and lays you down on your back as your orgasm wanes. 

His cock slides out of your underwear as he makes space to finish undressing you both. He tears your underwear down in a frenzy and can't get out of his own soon enough. Within seconds, you're both nude on the sofa in the dimly lit room.

Javi sits on his knees between your legs and pumps himself slowly, belly pushing out, eyes dancing across your body. His cock is so stiff and thick, you can't take your eyes off it. You throb and ache for it. He runs his flattened fingers through your dripping seam and moans at your wetness. 

“I cannot wait another moment to feel you, my love.” 

Javi gets on top of you, his belly pressing into you as he positions himself then notches at your entrance. His gold chain hangs and grazes your chest. He hikes your leg up and you wrap it around him. 

“Good,” he whispers.

Javi shoves into you, punching the air out of your lungs with a brief burn at the stretch. He groans as he fills you with his flesh as fast as your body will allow. “Javi,” you gasp as his girth spreads you apart. His dick twitches at the sound of his name on your lips. He sighs your name and you're almost flattered he knows it, giving you a brief twinge of uncertainty that's quickly replaced by pleasure as he withdraws a few inches then slams into you. 

“You are so beautiful,” he pants as he begins to fuck you steadily. He kisses your chest and your neck. “It was fate that you came here to me.” 

He moans and grunts as he buries his cock in you. You wrap your other leg around him. His body is solid and soft against yours.  So much skin on skin and it all feels right. You feel safe, and you feel adored. The way he looks at you, the way he feels you, moves on you, it’s like he’s been waiting for you forever. He hooks a hand under your shoulder for more leverage, and the force of each punch of his hips jiggles your breasts. He slows down and fucks you more tenderly, but still with power. The movement of his hips is fluid and smooth. 

After a few minutes, he moans, “Ohh, my love,” then sighs your name. “I have to give you my cum, I have to give it to you.” You aren’t sure, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything to disrupt this moment. You’ve never had someone make love to you this way. “I’m going to explode,” he warns.

He buries his mouth in the crook of your neck, bottoms out, and groans as he erupts deep in your core, sending you for another climax of your own. Then his lips scramble up your neck and jaw to find your lips and he kisses you passionately as warm bursts of his cum fill you up. “Mmm,” he moans into your mouth as you clench around his cock. 

When you’re both finished coming, he stays inside for a moment. “We will be joined again,” he assures you as he pulls out.

He lays half on his side, with a bit of his weight on you for a moment. He strokes your face and admires you tenderly. You excuse yourself to the restroom, and he goes with you, escorting you to his master bath instead of the guest room you used earlier. He shows you his bedroom on the other side and says, “you will stay here with me.” 

-

When you come out of the restroom to Javi’s bed, you approach hesitantly. “Are you sure?” you ask. 

“I would not dream of letting you leave,” he assures you. 

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Reference: 5 Symbols

for your next poem/story (pt. 1)

AESCLEPIUS WAND

The Wand or Rod of Aesclepius is a symbol of the medical profession.

The symbol belongs to the Greek God of Healing whose name it bears.

Although the origins of many symbols are indeterminate, there is a theory that the Aesclepius Wand came about due to the method of removal of a certain parasite that was drawn gradually from the body by winding it around a stick.

However, the serpent is a powerful symbol of healing, despite its toxic nature.

In general, the symbol of the serpent rising up toward the top of a pole or tree is representative of matter transforming into spirit and of enlightenment.

AKWABA

This is an African fertility symbol belonging to the Ashanti tribe.

The Akwaba is a doll, usually carved of wood, which commands the same attention as a real infant.

It is dressed, washed, and even “fed” until the human child is actually born, an example of sympathetic magic believed to ensure the arrival of the true baby.

AMULET

Although it is worn on the body as a piece of jewelry, the amulet is different from “normal” jewelry in that it holds a magical significance that is peculiar to its owner or wearer.

Generally, the powers of the amulet fall into two specific categories, either to bring luck or to avert evil;

either of these qualities arguably reflect a positive or negative attitude on the part of the owner.

The talisman is effectively the same thing as an amulet although its name derives from an Arabic word meaning “magic picture.”

A charm made specifically and inscribed with the names of the spirits, the Seal of Solomon, and other mystical symbols is more likely to be referred to as a talisman.

Significant symbols for use as amulets include birthstones (or other gems according to their magical powers), astrological signs, specific symbols such as the Hand of Fatima or the cornus, and symbols specific to the religious and spiritual beliefs of the wearer, such as the cross, the star, words, names, and numbers.

Incidentally, both amulets and talismans are referred to as “charms;” the origin of this word has the same root as the Latin word for “song,” indicating the link between a magical sound and a magical intention.

ANKH

Essentially the tau cross surmounted by a loop or circle, the ankh is a prominent feature of Ancient Egyptian reliefs, artworks, and funerary paraphernalia.

Like the tau, the ankh is a letter; specifically, it is a hieroglyph meaning “life.”

The volume of meaning that can be squeezed from such a simple symbol is awe-inspiring.

The ankh represents the male and female genitalia, the Sun coming over the horizon, and the union of Heaven and Earth.

This association with the Sun means that the ankh is traditionally drawn in gold—the color of the Sun—and never in silver, which relates to the Moon.

Putting aside the complexities of these separate elements, though, what does the ankh look like?

Its resemblance to a key gives a clue to another meaning of this magical symbol.

The Egyptians believed that the Afterlife was as meaningful as the present one, and the ankh provided the key to the gates of death and what lay beyond.

Powerful symbols frequently stray across into other cultures despite their origins, and the ankh is no exception.

Because it symbolizes immortality and the Universe, it was initially borrowed by the 4th century Coptic Christians who used it as a symbol to reinforce Christ’s message that there is life after death.

The ankh is used by the Rosicrucians too.

Even though its actual invention is shrouded in thousands of years of mystery, the ankh symbol can be bought in any high street jewelry store anywhere in the world.

ARROW

Symbol of flight, penetration, and direction.

As a weapon, the arrow is a symbol of the power of the person who carries it, along with the bow.

As a sacred symbol, it is the attribute of the Goddess of the Hunt, Artemis/Diana, as well as of Eros, who uses his arrows to pierce the people’s hearts with love.

The arrow also serves as a phallic symbol and an emblem of masculine power.

The symbol of the heart pierced with an arrow, popular on Valentine’s Day cards, is a covert symbol of sexual union.

As a symbol of direction, it works on a physical level and a metaphorical level.

The arrow that shoots high up into the sky is an emblem of the link between Earth and Heaven, a symbol of an idea, or of a message being carried directly to the Gods.

The arrow is used, too, as an analogy for swiftness and sureness, since the arrow travels in the direction in which it is shot.

The astrological sign of Sagittarius, the hybrid creature that is always depicted in the process of shooting an arrow from his bow, has a Latin root, sagitta; this means “arrow” and is derived from a verb, sagire, that means “to perceive keenly or quickly.”

Therefore, the arrow is symbolic of quick-wittedness and intuition.

Arrows were used by the ancient Arabians, Chaldeans, Greeks, and Tibetans in a form of divination called Belomancy:

This was practiced by shooting arrows in the air and reading a meaning from the direction of the arrows or their positions in relation to each other.

For example, crossed or touching arrows meant “no.”

Later, the arrows had words written on them to make any answers even more definitive.

Source ⚜ More: On Symbols ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[rosewaterandivy]

1. not passive but aggressive

Summary: Rumor has it, that hometown hero-turned-teacher Steve Harrington is hot for teacher. The English teacher next door to him at Hawkins High, who also happens to be his childhood friend, that is.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x chaotic!dumbass reader

Warnings: No use of y/n - reader goes by the nickname Trouble instead, depictions of drinking to excess, cursing, questionable deflection tactics from reader, not so veiled references to BigDick!Steve, roughhousing (inspired by this scene from Just Friends), Steve’s inability to win a fight

A/N: Modern!Teacher AU, English teacher reader, History teacher Steve, slow burn, friends to lovers, romance. Here’s 3.3K of minor exposition and mostly chaos; feedback and reblogs are appreciated, enjoy!

series masterlist

previous || next

Then - Fall term, October 

The bourbon uncomfortably burned its way down your throat as you finished the glass. Sure, it was only slightly, but in your normal, non-drink addled mind, that enough was the signal for you to pack it up and head home. Your head cocked to the right as you meditated on the thought, before deciding against it.

You signaled to the barkeep for another round and mindlessly checked your phone. Nada, nothing, zip - of course no one was wondering where you were, you’re the “stable” one. Another glass was set in front of you, along with a bowl of pretzels and the advice to, “Eat something; I’ll call a car to take you home.”

A scoff came from your mouth as you lifted the drink to your lips, “I’ll car a call to take you.” Regardless, the pretzels looked somewhat appetizing and you grabbed a handful to shove into your mouth. You eyed the barkeep maliciously as they placed the call and continued to nurse your drink.

Nancy’s phone began to ring as she toweled her hair dry in the bathroom. Glancing at the number, she answered and placed the call on speakerphone, “Hello?”

She could faintly hear music making its way down the line, “Hi Nancy, this is Kyle from The Hideout. I’m sorry to inconvenience you, but a friend of yours is here right now and has been for some time.” He said, adding your name for good measure.

Nancy raised a brow, “Is she alright?” She cleared her throat slightly and wiped her palm against the mirror. “Do you know what time she got there?”

Kyle, the bartender on duty, sighed audibly, “I don’t know ma’am, she was here before I clocked in, I guess.” He sounded uncomfortable or annoyed, knowing you he was probably a little bit of both. “I’m only calling because I’ve cut her off and told her I’d arrange a ride home for her; I wanted to give you a heads up since the ICE contact wasn’t answering.”

“Okaaay,” she drawled, “That’s fine.” She wrapped the towel around her torso and made to open the bathroom door, “I’ll be there in a few minutes; thanks Kyle.” She ended the call and passed through the living room on her way to change. 

Steve and Eddie were zoned out in front of the TV watching something or other while Robin busied herself in the kitchen. “Hey Nance,” she greeted with a nod, “Everything okay?” 

Nancy threw a smirk her way as she entered her room, closing the door slightly to change. She rifled through her dresser and settled on wearing a matching set of work-out clothes and a black jacket. “Hey guys,” she called through the door as she stepped into her yoga pants, “I have to go pick-up Trouble at the bar and she’s not doing too well, according to bartender Kyle.” 

Nancy finished dressing and stepped into the living area of the loft. Robin was still in the kitchen, wiping down counters while Eddie and Steve had killed the volume on whatever they were watching. “Aww, she having a bad day?” Eddie asked in a curious tone, eyes glancing to Nancy.

She shrugged, “More than likely, yeah. I’m thinking she’ll have to crash here, if that’s alright with everyone?”

The roommates chorused their agreement and Steve turned the volume back up on the TV. Nance grabbed some keys from the table by the door and inquired as to what they were watching. “Rocky Horror!” Eddie blurted as Steve rolled his eyes and sighed. “It’s a bona-fide classic and he still hasn’t seen it.”

With a glance of pity directed toward Steve, Nancy opened the door. “Congratulations; see you losers in a bit.”

When Nancy arrived at the bar, she spotted you immediately because well, it was fairly difficult not to. Kyle, as promised, had cut you off and you did not take the news of that terribly well. You had turned into a slump on the bartop, “Kyle, my man, my dude, my guy,” you implored in earnest while making grabby hands, “How could you betray a bitch like that?” Your lips fell into a pout in a sad attempt to lure Kyle into serving you more bourbon. “Look at the-the uh, … bottle there. It’s so close to being a goner man, c’mon just do me a solid.”

Kyle, resolute in his decision, sighed and shook his head, “It’s still a no from me,” His eyes brightened as he spotted Nancy. With a nod to you he replied, “Nice effort though,” and brusquely went to serve other customers.

Nancy laid a deliberate hand on your shoulder, “Okay, time to go,” she chorused. Your face broke into a soft smile, “Natty Light! What’re you doing here?” Your speech was noticeably slurred but you seemed pretty content. “D-did I call you?”

Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, she maneuvered you into a standing position. “You did not,” she supplied while grabbing your purse and slinging it over your shoulder. “But Kyle over there did, said you’d need a ride home.”

At the mention of the bartender, you grimaced. “Oh, you mean Chairman Kyle of the Sober Socialist Society?”

Kyle, still in earshot, volleyed back, “I am not a Communist!”

“I didn’t call ya a commie, you dumbass!” you huffed, struggling to face him as you were being herded out the door, “I don’t know your personal political beliefs,” you babble, “We’re not that close!” You continued to grumble to yourself as Nancy led you through the door and onto the sidewalk in front of the bar. She guided you to the car around the corner from the bar, mindful as you teetered over the pavement.

It was a struggle to get you inside the car with the flailing legs and colorful epithets directed at Kyle, but she managed it. This night was not one of your best, but Nancy doubted she could get a decent answer as to why out of you in your current state. As she shifted the car into gear she also made sure your seatbelt was clicked in, and then proceeded into the intersection. 

Steve was in agony. 

Eddie had forced him into watching this overly saturated horror musical under some forgotten pretense. And eventually Robin had joined them, which somehow required Eddie to get her caught up on everything he’d missed. “Okay, so this sweet transvestite from transexual Transylvania, Dr. Frank-N-Furter, is like a mad scientist and creates their own companion ala Frankenstein.” Robin had nodded along diligently as the man enthusiastically explained the plot. “But there’s this storm and flat tire that waylays the sweethearts, right? And they have to seek shelter at Dr. Frank-N-Furter’s creepy old house for the night.”

Hearing the keys in the door, Eddie paused the film. “Oh thank god,” Steve sighed in relief. He ignored Eddie’s glare as Nancy entered the loft with you, currently slumped against her back. Next door neighbors and friends for as long as could remember, Steve is familiar with your antics and general lack of any self-preservation instinct; you’d somehow been even worse in high school, he shudders at the thought.

But rarely he had never seen you like this. 

All soft, pliable, and blinking owlishly as you raised a hand to wave at them, “Hey guys,” you rasp, clearly haven fallen asleep in the car on the way over. Scattered hellos filled the room and Nance deposited you on the couch with a, “I’ll be back with some water, you have to drink it all.” 

You nodded lazily and sunk into the couch cushions; they moved to accommodate you and Eddie started the movie again. “Ooh, I love this one,” you cooed. Cuddling into Steve’s arm, he smiled slightly listening as you softly hummed. 

Nancy placed a glass of water on the coffee table and mouthed ‘sorry’ to Steve before settling in on the armchair. You continued to chirp occasionally like a contented cat. He glanced up to find Eddie and Robin turned toward you in interest.

With a deep sigh, you murmured, “Now that right there, is a decent fucking man,” as Eddie, played by the late, great Meatloaf, made his grand entrance to serenade Columbia. Then your eyes drowsily closed and you fell into a light sleep against Steve’s arm.

It was clear that you were drunk, blissfully buzzed and tired. He didn’t mind that you’d all but melted into him and the couch, these things happen. With your head resting on his shoulder, Steve caught the palpable scent of bourbon as you dozed off. He continued to watch the movie, aware of Nancy’s gaze on you searching for any clue as to why you’d decided to get rip-roaring drunk like you were still an undergrad who didn’t get raging hangovers.

Nancy, observant to a fault, noticed that you’d fallen asleep on your right side, cheek nuzzled onto Steve’s arm. Your left side was exposed, arm resting on your hip and left hand startling free of an engagement ring. She drew in a short breath, and with a low growl said, “Oh, I’m going to fucking kill him.”

You awoke blearily, sun streaming through the windowpane and directly into your eye doing fuck-all for your plan to sleep in. It was cloyingly warm and your neck was starting to hurt, jaw hooked over the world’s most uncomfortable pillow it would seem. You’d have to talk to Nance about her interior design choices.

With a sigh, you rub your cheek against the fabric and blink open your eyes. Planting a hand firmly against the couch, you push yourself up only to hear a pained grunt. You pause and scrub your eyes with the back of your hand, only to find one startled Steve Harrington.

“Whathefuck,” you mumble out, voice gravely and low as you look around the room.

You vision swims and tunnels.

Oh, so you’re definitely hungover. Well, that explains the fact that you’re not waking up in your own apartment. Steve looks down right disturbed to be awoken in such a fashion, sprawled out on the couch in a rucked up shirt and jeans, wedged into an uncomfortable corner shoulder-first.

“You sleep in your jeans Harrington? Weeping christ.”

“Uh,” he stammers out, his voice lower than you’d ever heard, eyes wide and glasses eschew, “D’ya think you could move your hand?”

“Huh?”

You both glance down to find your hand resting against his thigh, not the couch like you’d thought, dangerously close to his crotch and–-uh, morning situation. Eyes nearly popping out of your skull, you abruptly move the offending appendage and clear your throat, heat rising to your face.

So, if the earth could like, cataclysmically end right now, that would be juuust great.

He hurriedly stands up, taking a pillow to cover himself. He runs his free hand through his mess of hair and slowly backs into the hallway, “I-uh-,” he stammers at you, “L-Lemme just get Nance.”

You don’t dare make eye contact. Only once you hear furtive whispers and the opening and closing of a bedroom door, do you breathe in relief. Shaking your head before you can think better of it, you pinch your eyes shut at the rattling pain in your skull. Elbows resting on your knees, you cradle your head and groan into your hands.

“Screaming into the void already?”

Nancy looks unfairly put-together, yoga leggings and an old Emerson college shirt graces her figure as she crosses to the kitchen. You, however, feel freshly regurgitated into existence and in all likelihood look like you’ve lost a fight with a rabid raccoon. Which tracks, depressingly enough.

She starts the coffee maker, shutting the pods into the machine with more force than necessary. “How many shots of espresso?” she chirps grabbing creamer from the fridge, shutting it loudly. 

You shudder at the noise and brace yourself for the clinking of spoons against mugs. “Ugh, twelve, please,” you say despondently and flop back onto the couch, hands covering your eyes. 

From the corner of her eye, Nancy sees you dramatically thrash against the sofa cushions. With a roll of her eyes, she dumps a few espresso ice cubes into a glass and shakes up the oat milk to pour over it. She hadn’t expected Steve to be the one staying up with you last night, you and Eddie had more of an affinity late nights and Rocky Horror. But, he had an early morning with the band and bowed out around midnight or so.

Apparently Steve had elected to babysit you on the couch, long after Rocky Horror had finished. She recalls you bullying him into watching High Fidelity and Empire Records before saying her own goodnights. Robin having trotted off to sleep even earlier. The morning sun basked in through the large interior windows of the living room, an abysmal heat accompanying it, which is apparently what woke you. 

She flicked the switch to the overhead fan and dropped a straw into the atrocious concoction you referred to as “coffee.” The espresso cubes had begun to melt, she’d only thrown in half the amount you’d requested. Swatting you to move aside, she placed the glass in your outstretched hand.

“Bless you Nancy Wheeler,” you intoned as you struggled to sit up. She pulled your arm and set you up against the cushions and pillows. You took a sip, smacking your lips as your thirst was quenched. 

Nancy huffed at your lack of manners. “So,” she sighs, “What happened last night?”

“Question,” you cut in and pause to take another sip. “Is Harrington licensed as an exotic animal handler?”

You’re ridiculous.

And that’s putting it lightly.

“What?”

You tongue the straw as it has seemingly escaped your mouth. Nancy watches as it travels from one side of the glass to the opposite before you give up and shove it into your mouth. She’s positive she’s going to lose it if you don’t get to the point soon, and it’s not even 9 a.m.

“Well, y’have to be licensed to handle exotic animals, like snakes and stuff.”

“Get to the point please,” she snaps.

Your eyes go wide, “Sheesh, okay. Forgot you were such a tightass in the mornings.” You take a painfully long sip, straw gurgling with the scant dregs of coffee that are left. “Stefano,” you continue, much to her exasperation, “I have reason to believe he’s harboring a fugitive.”

Nancy huffs inwardly, she really doesn’t have time for your classic deflections. But hey, whatever she had to do to get to you to spill.

It is at this precise moment that Robin makes her presence known, soft footfalls against the wood floor. She rasps a greeting and busies herself with the coffee grinder as you begin to speak again.

While she grinds the coffee beans, it’s impossible to make out what you’re saying, exaggerated gesticulations and all. The screaming motorized blades shriek their way across the apartment, eliciting a shout from Steve’s running shower, “God, what is that!?”

She hates you right now, well, you and Robin. The two current banes of her existence, one hungover and the other just a regular space-cadet. Rob is slumped over the counter wearing and ancient tank-top and what has to be the brightest pair of neon shorts known to man, Eat Me, emblazoned on the ass. Nancy is pretty sure she’d stolen them from you, actually.

Nancy hasn’t thrown up since Steve’s college graduation party, but this morning she just might out of sheer spite.

“Shut up,” you grouse in response, “Everyone fuck off for like, a second.”

Robin stops the incessant grinding of coffee, quickly followed by Steve stomping into the living room, fresh from the shower and pissed as hell; wet and shirtless, basketball shorts accentuating his slutty little waist. 

Nancy notices how quickly your face colors at his arrival, accompanied by an audible gulp. He snatches a mug from the shelf as Robin works the French press, closing the cabinets after her she chaotically yanks them open. 

She turns her focus back to you, eyes narrowing, “Out with it.”

Slurping loudly from your empty glass of iced coffee you shrug. “Well, you asked for it.” You set the glass down on the coffee table and roll your neck in preparation for whatever it is you’re about to say. 

Nothing good, probably.

“We need to alert animal control for the anaconda in Steve’s shorts,” you say airily, as if you were commenting on the weather.

Ah, so one of you classic deflection tactics it is then. Talk about literally anything else but the problem, bonus points if you can annoy Steve in the process. 

“The fuck!” Steve slams the mug on the counter padding over to the living room. Robin cackles in laughter, nearly spilling the freshly brewed coffee all over herself in the process. The look on his face should be enough to shut you up. Smug as all hell as he crosses his arms, purses his lips, and glances at your red face to Nancy’s blinking one.

“Harrington,” you declare, hoping your confident tone will throw him off, “Unless you can produce a license for your, uh, anaconda,” you pause for a beat, nodding to his crotch. “We don’t want none.”

“Okay, that’s it!”

He all but body slams you against the couch, Nancy barely making it out of there with the drinking glass intact. Your shriek makes him flinch only because of its sheer volume, but he continues his relentless assault nonetheless. The pair of you grapple like children on the sofa, hands scrambling against torsos and arms. The occasional thwack followed by a mocking, “Stop hittin’ yourself, stop hittin’ yourself!”

The two of you never did quite grow out of your competitive wrestling phase, it would seem. WWF was standard viewing between the pair of you growing up, Steve spending more time at your house than his own. Which eventually grew into weekend-long sleepovers in the basement and Eddie attempting to hotbox the supply closet as you all got older and rowdier.

You’ve launched yourself across the couch, impressive in your current hungover state, effectively pinning Steve underneath your legs and laughed maniacally. There’s a beat of silence followed by the unmistakable sound of a loogie being hocked as you attempt to snicker-snag him and dangle it above Steve’s face. He recoils in terror, mouth unfortunately open (despite Robin’s “Christ Steve, close your damn mouth!”) and attempts to squirm out from under you.

“What’s all this then?” Eddie asks as he rolls in from meeting with the band. Not even batting an eye at the tangle of limbs that had by now scrambled to the floor with a thunk. 

“Oh, the usual,” Nancy supplies, rinsing the few dishes in the sink and loading them into the dishwasher.

Robin laughs fondly, “Remember the last time they did this?”

“Mmm, sure do,” Eddie leans against the counter, nodding in thanks when Nancy passes him a cup of coffee. “Fratalina Wine Mixer of 2012.”

“No, it was the All Out 80s party before finals in 2014.”

Nancy sighs in exasperation, “Guys.” Robin and Eddie stop their bickering, looking to her, “It happened at both.”

Steve somehow gains the upper hand in the fall before you can snag him with loogie and an uncomfortably loud slurp echoes through the room. Nancy scrunches her nose in distaste as Robin films the entire tussle on her phone.

Steve throws his weight against you, hands pinning your wrists to the floor. His chest heaves taking deep breaths while he settles against your hips and thighs. “STOP MOVING,” he puffs out. You ignore his rough command and continue to thrash on the floor, face contorting in the effort. “I swear to god, if you don’t–”

Whatever Steve had planned to say next was cut off by your scream. You’d taken a deep breath in preparation and let loose the loudest caterwaul you possibly could. Steve pleads with you to stop and shut up, but you continue to scream unabated. Eddie snickers to himself, “That’s some real final girl shit right there.”

Eventually, Steve has no choice but to cover your mouth with his hand. You bite him in retaliation. “Shit,” he grimaces, retracting his hand and shaking it out, “D’you sharpen your canines or something?!” Before he can remember to secure your arms, you reel up with a grunt and shove Steve to the floor. 

“How the turn tables,” you taunt, reclaiming your previous position sitting on Steve, earning a snort from Eddie and Robin. He attempts to swat you away before you can begin to snicker-snag him again. You laugh and clamp your thighs tighter against his hips, the nylon of the shorts proving to be more slippery than you’d bargained for. 

Steve goes uncomfortably quiet and impossibly pink in the face as you situate yourself. Settling back on your haunches, you appraise him as he tries to look anywhere else; your eyes light up in realization. “Huh,” you grin, hands falling to your hips, “Didn’t know that was your kink, Harrington.” He groans and shoves the palms of his hands into his eyes, refusing to acknowledge the growing semi he was currently sporting. 

Unceremoniously, you slide off of him with a plop and cozy up against the base of the sofa. “Nance,” you grin, finger pointing to Steve’s shorts, “You never told me Harrington was packing.”

Swiftly, and true to character, Nancy levels you with “the look.” The patented dead-eyed Wheeler stare, known by all feared by few. To be fair, it’s only when she breaks out the snarl that you have to worry.

“You’re an idiot,” Steve mutters, eyes shut, “And I hate you.”

Robin wheezes, jostling her phone and panning to Eddie. He smirks, eyes sparkling with mischief, “Hey Siri, play Anaconda.” 

You jump up with more energy than you should have and cackle. Steve remains flat on the floor, much to your chagrin, as you bop along to the song. “This dude named Steven used to ride motorcycles / It's bigger than a tower, I ain't talking about Eiffel's,” you and Eddie sing out, Robin recording all the while.

Sure, you’re grinning and laughing now but it never truly reaches your eyes. Nancy half-heartedly sighs watching you dance around Steve’s prone body on the floor. 

It’s plain as day to her and literally everyone else that there is more than simply friendship between you and Steve. It’s obvious that he’s been smitten for a while now.

Well, obvious to everyone except you. 

For all your insight, you’re pretty dense.

[idabbleincrazy]

Tear You Apart ~ A Red K Club Mix Fic

Fandom: Smallville

Rating: E

Pairing: Klex (Kal/Lex)

Warnings: Smut, red k!Clark, submissive!Lex, bottom!Lex, light bondage, light d/s, teasing, dirty talk, club fic, oral, anal fingering, anal

Word Count: 8858

Summary: Clark finds courage in the red. Lex revels in it.

A/N: written for @kryptonite-week , day two. Inspired by the song Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge.

Bingo squares: bondage for @fandom-free-bingo pride edition

He didn't know what made him agree to go with Lex to the club tonight. Or why he thought it was a good idea to speed back to Smallville after Journalism 102, and track down one of the remaining Smallville High school rings circa 2002 left in a dusty box in the school's basement, hastily stuffing it in his pocket before zipping back to Metropolis. But, as he slipped the ring onto his finger, watching his eyes flash red in the mirror, he didn't really care. 

Clark pulled on his leather jacket just as he heard Lex's Lamborghini pull into the parking lot outside his dorm window. With a shark grin that was more often seen on his best friend's face than it ever was on his own, he ran downstairs to meet him at the door. The look on Lex's face as he stopped short and trailed his gaze over the brunette from head to toe was worth the pang of lingering guilt he felt warring with the heat of arousal blooming in his gut. He's glad the hand with the ring is in his pocket, just the same.

"Wow, Clark, I have to admit I wasn't expecting you to dress for the occasion. I think you'll pass muster without even having to borrow any of the stuff I brought along."

Clark smirked at the bald billionaire, giving Lex his own once-over with an appreciative eye. He'd seen Lex in club gear before, but that did nothing to dampen the fire ignited in his blood at the sight of him in black mesh and leather. His gaze lingered knowingly over the slight bulge at his groin, not even bothering to use his x-ray vision to see what he knew lay beneath. Anticipation was half the fun, after all. 

"C'mon, Lex, you didn't think I'd embarrass you with jeans and flannel did you," Clark clucked in mock offense as he brushed past him to head towards the car. "Keys?"

Lex looked ready to decline, so Clark broke out the puppy eyes, pushing his bottom out into a pout he knew Lex never could resist. Had to bite the lip to stop from chuckling when he saw the bulge increase minutely. When he tossed the keys to him with a shake of his head, Clark rewarded him with another smoldering smirk before unlocking the doors and slipping into the driver's seat. 

"You're not high, right? You seem…different tonight, Clark, and I don't want you driving if you're not feeling like yourself."

"Lex, I'm more myself than I've been in years.

"That doesn't exactly answer my question."

Clark turned the ignition over before turning to face Lex across the scant space between them.

"Do I look high to you, Lex?"

"No, but looks can be deceiving. You're acting kinda like that day you borrowed my Ferrari in some strange fit of teenage rebellion."

"Lex, I'm not high. And, since when did you become so stuffy, anyways?"

Lex's eyes widened in offense at being referred to as stuffy and decided to let the matter go, settling back in the passenger seat. He was still unsure about Clark's new attitude, but couldn't deny the resurgence of his repressed attraction to the younger man. The outfit didn't help in the least. It didn't hurt, either. Even in worn denim and oversized flannel, Clark looked gorgeous; in leather pants and a tightly fitted black tee, he was the embodiment of temptation. He knew he was going to have to keep a close eye on Clark at the club, especially once that jacket came off to reveal biceps he just knew would be bulging around the short sleeves. It wouldn't do for the brunette to be accosted by every uninhibited patron, female and male alike. 

Clark shifted into gear and peeled out of the parking lot, speeding through the streets of Metropolis towards the club district. He could feel Lex's increasing arousal like a charge of electricity between them, and Kal growled hungrily inside, warring to take over completely. He slackened the leash minutely, felt a predatory grin twist his lips as Lex's voice sounded in his ear, directing him where to turn. Perfect, he thought as he pulled up to the curb in front of Nexus. 

The valet rushed to open the door for him, and Clark stepped out and tossed him the keys. Lex fell in step beside him as he rounded the car and walked up towards the club, the small crowd milling around for a chance to be let in parting instinctively to let Lex and his companion through. At the door, the bouncer took one look at them and opened the door without even bothering to card Clark.

"Mr. Luthor, Kal."

Lex flashed Clark a quick look of bemusement as they stepped through into the club; Clark smiled that small smile that meant he wouldn't expand on it, at least not in the immediate future. They checked their coats, Lex cursing his habit of being right. Clark's arms were definitely more bare and tempting than they had any right to be with so many other people around to notice them. The strobe lights struck them as they walked out of the entrance hallway, red and blue and purple streaks of light flashing disorientingly over the patrons as they danced to the pulsing bass thumping from the speakers hanging from the high ceiling. 

There would be little point in trying to shout over the music, so Lex simply took Clark by the arm and led him towards the bar centered along the side wall. It had been a couple years since he'd last bothered to come to this particular venue, but he recognized the bartender, a young blonde man he knew worked here to pay his way through grad-school. The man flashed him a knowing grin and raised an eyebrow in question, lifting two fingers up. Lex nodded back and the bartender slunk off to make their drinks. 

Looking around the club, Clark pretended not to notice Lex taking charge again, letting himself be tugged to the bar, letting him order their drinks. He knew it was all just illusion. Lex may have the power that his name and his bank account afford him, but he knew that Lex was powerless against him, physically and emotionally. And he suspected the bald billionaire thrilled at the notion that Clark could easily overpower him. He suspected the real reason Lex had chosen this particular club out of the long line of choices strewn up and down the street. Nexus wasn’t like the other clubs. Beyond the throng of men and women writhing on the dance floor, a long hallway led to a row of private rooms where the only thing forbidden was outright murder. No sexuality was scandalous, no kink too unthinkable, so long as it remained just on this side of the law; banned substances were a no-go, but the management turned a blind eye to all the designer stuff the government hadn't caught up to yet. He’d been here a couple times during his lost summer, and he couldn’t help picturing Lex in one of those rooms, at his mercy. 

A nudge at his side drew his mind back from its musing, his eyes dragging back over the various groupings of dancers back to the slimmer man beside him. He took the drink he was handed, mildly surprised that Lex would be so bold as to order him such a strong concoction, and knocked half of it back in one large swallow. Lex raised a brow at him in suspicion when he didn't even so much as sputter at the burn of the alcohol. A quick glance down assured Clark his friend was still half-hard, though the smell of his arousal was diminished by the scents of sweat and alcohol and sex permeating the air. Flashing Lex another teasing grin, Clark let Kal take a tighter rein. 

"C'mon, Lex, I wanna dance!" Kal threw back the rest of his drink and pushed off the bar, wading into the throng of dancers before Lex could protest. 

Lex blinked twice and gulped down his drink, watching Clark meld into the press of bodies like it was second nature to the brunette. He wasn't surprised by how quickly he captured the attention of those nearest him, his body swaying and flowing to the beat of the music as if it was a physical force moving him with guiding hands. 

He'd always found Clark beautiful, sexually alluring even beneath layers of denim and flannel, but this…this was something altogether more. Like sex in motion, the way his hips in perfect rhythm to the pounding bass, the way he ground against the young woman that had turned away from her own partner, pulled into Clark’s orbit. He’d never wanted Clark as badly as he did at this moment, though the flashing red glint of the ring on his left hand tugs at a memory of another time, years ago, when Clark had acted much the same, all full of new-found confidence and domineering attitude. He felt the same sexual thrill as that day when his young friend had asked him to run away with him to Metropolis, and this time, he didn’t have to force himself to go tattling to Jonathan Kent. This time, Clark was an adult, mostly, free to make his own choices. 

Lex knew now that that ring had been the cause of the changes in Clark, then and now, that there was something about the stone made from the red meteor rocks that affected him. He knew Clark was special, though they never talked about it, his questioning nature finally stifled to preserve their friendship, and for whatever reason, the meteor rocks had a more profound effect on Clark than they had any other of the mutated Smallvillians. If Clark had willingly sought out one of the few remaining class rings, chosen to let himself be this other self, who was Lex to look a gift horse in the mouth? Maybe it was just the push they both needed to finally stop the endless circling they did around each other, the flirtations and innuendoes that never led any further, both too afraid to cross that line and risk losing what they had of each other. If Clark needed the red to boost his courage enough to finally take the chance, Lex would let him, all too happy to follow the younger man’s lead. 

Setting down his empty glass, Lex waved the bartender over and gave him instructions before heading onto the dance floor, set on rescuing Clark from the bold woman who had begun to get more handsy with the brunette than Lex cared for; as if he didn't already regret checking their jackets. Even the men were already circling like sharks, watching Clark like something they wanted to devour.

Kal’s grin widened as he noticed Lex making his way over to him out of the corner of his eye. He had been tempted to listen in when Lex had leaned over the bar to talk to the blonde who had served them, but decided to let Lex surprise him with whatever he was undoubtedly setting up. Feeling playful, Kal pulled the redheaded woman closer to him as Lex approached, noting the flare of nostrils and the minute twitch of one eye as he slinked raunchily with her in time to the music, their groins pressed so close together, they were very nearly fucking. He wanted to laugh out loud when Lex realized the game and took up the challenge, easily inserting himself into a group of men and women, one of each quickly taking place on either side of him. 

Kal let his hand skim up the young girl’s side, cupping her breast, as Lex leaned back against the dark-haired man behind him, the stranger’s broad hands gripping Lex’s hips as they moved, the woman in front wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him down into an exploring kiss. Lex's hand reached back, unerringly wrapping around the back of the man's head, guiding him down to mouth at the side of his throat. The woman broke the kiss but stayed pressed close, their hips grinding together in a rhythm that Lex must have engineered to match Kal's. The girl in his own arms was oblivious to his divided attention, her mouth tracing along his jaw as she clutched tighter at his waist, moving as though she were trying to get off on him. Kal slid a thigh between her legs and the scent of her heat-slick body increased, the sound of her moan just barely audible even to his ears over the blast of music.

Movement in his peripheral alerted him to the sight of the bartender that had served them crossing around the perimeter of the club towards the VIP tables, a loaded tray in hand. Another glance at Lex showed the bald man now facing the stand-in, the woman mostly forgotten behind him as he undulated against the brunette, the muscles of his arms taut as he dipped and swayed. 

The song ended, flowing directly into another, deeper beat. Kal felt thirsty. He abruptly twirled the young woman away, towards the rest of the milling bodies, her shout of protest barely a ping on his radar as he slipped easily through the crowd towards the table in the back corner. Heard similar complaints from the pair left wanting as Lex followed three steps behind. Slid into the booth seat just as Lex reached the edge of the dance floor, light catching the sheen of sweat on his scalp, reflecting red, blue, and purple in time to the bass from the speakers. Popped the cork off the bottle of undoubtedly ridiculously expensive champagne as Lex crossed the gap of space, pouring it into the glasses as he slid in beside him.

"Having fun, Clark?" One brow imperiously raised, daring him to deny the game being played.

"Call me Kal, Lex. And yes, I am having fun. Don't tell me you're not?"

Lex took the glass Kal offered, sipping at the tart liquid before answering. Calculating. Wondering, in the back of his mind if Clark was just toying with him for a thrill. If he really wanted what his game suggested. 

"Of course, Kal. Games are always fun. But you should know, Kal, I play to win."

"That's why this is the best game of them all, Lex. Everybody wins." Kal took a gulp of the cool, bubbly drink, looking past Lex to the people dancing wildly. "Well, except for them. They don't get to win, they just get to watch, and count themselves lucky they even got to participate." 

Kal could feel the heat wafting off of Lex, scooted closer to feel his thigh pressed against his own. Leaned in to whisper against his ear and thrilled at the shiver he felt rolling under Lex's skin.

"That is, unless you want to bow out? Let some other willing player tap in?"

"Luthor's don't leave a game unfinished, Kal, you should know that by now."

"Good." Pulling away, Kal finished his glass of champagne, and slid out the other side of the booth to stand in front of Lex. "Dance with me!"

Facing away from the glare of flashing lights, Lex caught the gleam of red flicker through Kal's eyes as he waited, his hand outstretched. The thought of those hands clutching at him, caressing, as they had the redhead, overrode any niggling worry about the repercussions their little game might bring about. Lex stood, abandoning his half-full flute of champagne, and slid his hand into Kal's, letting the brunette tug him back onto the dance floor. He might be more turned on by Kal's, and by proxy, Clark's, new take-charge attitude than he'd ever been by anyone trying to dominate him, but now it was his move in their little game, and he was eager to turn the board in his favor. He fully intended on letting Kal fuck him before the night was over, of course, but he had to earn it first.

Lex had gained muscle mass in his arms and chest since Clark had started college, his return to Metropolis adding his workout routine back into his schedule. Nowhere near as impressive as Clark's biceps and pectorals, but still more than enough to turn even the most discerning eye his way. He let that change in his physique work to his advantage as he stood a foot away from Kal, letting himself get lost in the pulsing beat of the music as a new, livelier track started. 

He watched Kal's wide grin grow hungrier as he danced, tracked his gaze as it roved over his body, reaping the benefits of Lex's mesh tank and bare arms. As the bright blue of the lights strobed over them, he noticed the growing bulge straining against leather, and shifted closer, his own pants tightening as Kal reached out for him. Gripping his hips, Kal tugged Lex flush against the long length of his body, slotting a hard thigh between his legs as he easily fell into rhythm with Lex's swaying movements. 

"It's a shame you always hide all this pretty skin under those suits every day, Lex." Kal's voice was husky in his ear as they ground against each other, heedless of the faceless bodies around them. He shuddered as Kal's breath ghosted over his cheek. "But…at least all those long sleeves and suit jackets keep me from worrying about every person who crosses your path wanting to snatch you up for themselves."

"I could say the same for all those plaid button ups and baggy jeans. Would've given you a whole new wardrobe years ago, except for the fact that I wouldn't be the only one seeing you…like this. God, Kal. Let's end this." Lex slid his hands up Kal's arms, over his shoulders, one hand snaking up into his hair, fingers tangling into rich, brown strands as they've itched to do since the day he woke up on that riverbank. "I didn't bring you here expecting this, but now, I'm not leaving until I get what I want. What we both want."

Everything around them faded away as his fingers gripped tighter, pulling Kal's head down to capture that grinning mouth in a searing kiss.

Kal growled as their lips met, Lex's tug only effectual with his allowance, his lips parting before Lex's tongue had even fully swiped over his bottom lip. Finally. That taste again, after years of longing, so much sweeter without the tinge of murky water. He gripped Lex tighter, swallowing down his gasp of surprised pleasure-pain as he let just a little of his strength show. Lex hardened further against his thigh, further proof towards Kal's assumptions. The kiss deepened and drew out until Lex was forced to come up for air.

"Fuck, Lex. Tell me you have one of those special rooms reserved. I'm not done playing yet, not by a long shot."

"Shit. Yeah, yes. Room three. Can you handle that?"

Kal's shark grin was back, wider than ever, ready to devour. 

"I knew you'd choose that one. It's my favorite, too." Kal crushed their mouths together again, this time, his tongue delved deep into Lex’s mouth, exploring, memorizing. “God, Lex, I wanna fucking tear you apart.”

“Let’s go. Now.”

Lex could barely take his eyes off Kal as the brunette pushed their way through the crowd of dancers, hands reaching out, snagging at them, trying to entice them to stay, join them. None of these people held any appeal in comparison to the tall, young man leading him away. Not when he was finally getting a glimpse of honesty from him, with Kal no longer bothering to hide his abilities from him, nearly lifting him into his arms as he walked them, too quickly, towards the back hallway.

“Careful, Kal”, Lex breathed into his ear, “cameras.”

Kal grinned down at Lex, gratified by his non-reaction to the sort-of reveal of his power. Bundling him tighter into his grasp, he sped them across the room, through the long, winding hallway, only stopping once they were in front of the door to room number three. There were no cameras past the entrance of the hall, too many clientele with a need for privacy and willing to spend good money to assure it. He set Lex on his feet, letting him go so he could pull out the key card.

“That was risky, Kal. I won’t ask about what you’re finally letting me in on, or why, but if you really want your secrets to stay secret, a little discretion would make it infinitely easier for me to protect you.”

“Aw, that’s sweet, Lexy. I don’t exactly need a bodyguard, y’know.”

Lex pulled his card out, swiping it over the scanner, and dragged Kal in behind him as the door slid open to admit them. As the door slid back shut, Lex pushed Kal back against the wall beside it, a frown prominent on his face.

“Maybe not, but you do need someone who can keep you off my father’s radar. Lionel has always kept too close an eye on you over the years, and it’s hard enough keeping evidence away from his desk as it is. I won’t lose you to him, Kal. I won’t lose Clark.”

Kal’s eyes flashed heatedly at the possessive tone, the firm, if useless, hand pressing on his chest. He grabbed Lex by the waist again, whirling them so that Lex was the one backed against the wall. 

“Fine. No more carelessness.” Kal dipped his head to Lex’s neck, licking fast over his pulse point and reveling in the hitch of breath it garnered. “But, there’s no one watching in here.”

Lex groaned at the implications of that, nodding in surrender as Kal slid his hands from his hips to grip tightly at his shirt. Kal chuckled darkly, and the silence of the soundproofed room was filled with the rending of fabric as he tore Lex's tank top off. 

"I think you're gonna need those clothes in your trunk, after all. Even see-through, it covered up too much." Kal ran a hand up Lex's stomach, feeling the ripple and flex of muscle as Lex trembled under his touch. "God, sexy Lexy. Can't believe I waited so long for this."

With a teasing flick of his fingers over Lex's left nipple, Kal stepped back, leaving Lex to sag, breathless, against the wall. He turned and finally surveyed the room, memories of his previous encounters here flashing through his mind. Memories he intended to replace. 

There was still the same large bed taking up most of the back wall, though the sheets were black this time, and God, he couldn't wait to see Lex spread out on that sometime. The same restraints hung up along the wall, the same pegboard full of interesting toys and equipment. This was a room built for submission, for dominating. He turned back to Lex, pressed back up against him, mouth trailing over his jaw as he spoke.

"I wanna take you up against the wall, Lexy. Cuffed in those”, Kal cocked his head towards the manacles hanging down from supports driven into the wall, “unable to touch, your legs wrapped around me as I pound into you so hard, you’ll start to worry if the room will crumble around us. Am I wrong in thinking that’s what you want, too?”

“Jesus, fuck! Yeah, want it, Kal. Want you to take me, hard, own me.”

Kal growled at the relinquishing of Lex’s will, biting hard at the side of Lex’s throat and dragging a keening moan from him. In a whirl, he tore off the rest of Lex’s clothes, shredded leather pants and silk boxers tossed one way, shoes, the other, and sped the naked billionaire across the room to where the restraints hung. Peeling off his own shirt slowly - hey, he looked good in this shirt, and Clark couldn’t afford to replace his clothes willy-nilly while budgeting his way through college and Kal wasn’t going to be around long enough for another ATM wrecking spree - he pressed himself against Lex, the feel of Lex’s sweat-slick chest under his making his cock throb. 

Kal ran his hands up Lex’s sides and along his arms, urging them up. He made quick work of clamping the manacles around Lex’s slim wrists, his fingers trailing back down the inside of his arms, raising goosebumps in their wake.

As the iron cuffs closed around his wrists, a pang of guilt hit Lex, and he closed his eyes briefly, needing to ask, even if it put an abrupt end to the evening. The lingering conscience that had flourished through his friendship with Clark wouldn’t let him not ask. 

"Are you sure this is what you want? What Clark wants? The ring…"

"I could take it off. If sweet, slow, lovemaking is what you really want right now. You can have that with him some other time, Lexy, he wants it, always has. Clark made the decision to hunt the ring down, just for this. Some people drink for courage, Lex. I have the red. I got tired of waiting, got tired of all the complications. This, this is simple, and just as real. Good enough?"

"Yeah." It would have to be. Now that Kal had him restrained and at his mercy, Lex wasn’t sure there was enough of Clark still in control enough to stop if he asked. And, really, it was enough to assuage his doubts just to ask, just to hear Kal claim Clark had chosen this. “Yes, Kal. It’s enough.”

"Good." Kal gripped Lex’s chin between thumb and forefinger, tilting his head up to capture his lips in a bruising, biting kiss. His other hand still slid over his skin, stroking the silky flesh. "God, you feel so soft, Lexy, so smooth.”

Lex shuddered beneath Kal’s exploring fingers, his cock hard against his stomach, the hard length twitching in anticipation every time Kal skirted close to it. He let himself go, the knowledge that they had come to this point together, neither conceding the game, allowing him to submit to Kal without his pride twinging over it. 

“Please. Kal, don’t tease.”

Kal nipped at Lex’s lip before dipping his head to trail a path of scorching, wet, kisses along his throat, stopping to worry the skin where he’d bitten a faint mark into him earlier. Lex gasped at the suction over his pulse, knowing that even with his sped up healing, he would have a mark there for a couple of days, impossible to hide, an obvious claim on his body. Like Clark had already claimed his heart, his soul. Kal eased up when he was finally happy with the deep purple bruise blooming under the pale skin, his cock throbbing against his zipper at the possession of this beautiful man. Why had he waited so long to take what was rightfully his, what had been his since he’d breathed new life back into him? 

“Kal.”

“Fuck, so pretty when you’re needy. How could Clark have never realized what perfect little submissive you really are, deep down? All he has to do is ask, and there you are, ready to do his bidding. So eager to please him. To please me.”

“Yes…Kal, yes, please. Take your pleasure in me, from me. Use me, Kal.”

Kal groaned against Lex’s collarbone, teeth sinking in just a little deeper as his arousal spiked higher at Lex’s moaning plea. Feeling magnanimous, he let his hand finally wrap around Lex’s erection, stroking the thick length slowly, a dull thud sounding in his ears as Lex let his head fall back against the wall with a broken moan. Metropolis’ most favored son, putty in his hands; all that power, given over willingly to him. It was a high all of its own, more thrilling than even the red. 

Still stroking the cock in his hand, Kal continued his exploration of the miles of flesh offered up to him, licking and biting over any spot sensitive enough to elicit a shiver from the older man. He traced his tongue around the pretty, swollen nub of a flushed pink nipple, teeth tugging harder when Lex writhed in his grasp before laving his tongue over the areola to soothe the sting. And still his hand stroked, the way eased now by the spurt of pre-come that slicked the ruddy head and trickled down the shaft. 

“Oh, God, Kal!”

“Years of fantasies have nothing on the real thing, Lexy, do they?” Kal kissed and tasted his way down Lex’s body, tongue swirling into his navel, fucking the wet muscle into the indent like a preview of things to come. “Fuck, baby, never thought skin, just bare, simple skin, could taste so sweet. I plan to taste all of you, Lexy.”

Lex lifted his head from the wall to watch as Kal sank to his knees in front of him, only the firm grip around his cock keeping him from tipping over into oblivion at the sight. How many nights had he spent in an empty bed with this image as his companion? How many other faces had morphed into Clark’s as they bent themselves into this position? Nothing compared to reality. Not with that perfect, golden face looking up at him, green eyes bright and glinting red, lips parting as he started to lean forward. Only to stop just an inch away, breath ghosting over heated flesh as he spoke.

“Tell me, Lexy, does that accelerated healing of yours apply to recovery time? Can you go another round if I make you come down my throat?”

“Ah, fuck, Kal! Jesus, do you have any idea what it does to me to hear you talk like that?” Lex bucked forward in Kal’s grip, straining against the chains holding him up in search for leverage. “Do it, please, suck me. Trust me, as long as I’ve waited, I could come three times and still get hard for you. You could fuck my mouth, and I would come just from the taste of you, Kal. I want everything.”

“So do I, Lexy. And I intend to have it.”

With that, Kal slid his mouth down along the length of Lex's cock, his hand slipping away from the base to nudge his legs further apart. Kal swallowed him down greedily, the thin drop of pre-come that seeped from the slit and onto his tongue bursting sharp and tangy on his taste buds, leaving him hungry for more. His hands stroked along the silky bare skin of Lex's thighs as his lips sank down to the base, sparse red curls teasing his nose. He regretted not shedding his own clothes beforehand, the throbbing of his cock edging on painful as his senses were filled with Lex; the scent of him so powerful here, at the crux of him, sweat-damp skin beneath his fingers, trembling at his ministrations, the taste of the cock he'd dreamed about for years, Lex's moans and pleas for more in his ears, his eyes rapt on the way Lex's face twisted in ecstasy as he pulled back, lapping over the tip as it oozed more of that addictive taste. 

"Oh, fuck, Kal! Kal, oh, baby, yes, fuck." Lex tried to thrust into Kal's mouth as he drew back along the length, needing that wet heat, that suction around his shaft again. Kal's hands spread out over his hips, pinning him against the wall, and teased that perfect mouth over the head of his cock before swallowing him back down, into the tight enclosure of his throat. "Jesus, Kal, so good! So fucking good, baby, oh, God, dreamed of that mouth for so long. Knew it would be just fucking perfect."

Kal groaned around the girth in his throat, aroused further by the way Lex steadily grew more vocal as he sucked him off; knowing Lex's pleasure was his to give or deny was a heady experience. Eager to finally taste him, he sped his motions along the thick cock, the shaft thickening further as the older man drew close to climax. Holding Lex firmly against the wall, he trailed one hand down between his legs, cupping his balls, fingers slipping back beneath them to the sensitive skin of his perineum. 

"Holy fuck, Kal, Kal, gonna come! Fuck! Ahhh!"

Kal swallowed the first spurt of come that filled his mouth just as his nails scraped up over the furl of muscle hidden between the perfect globes of Lex's ass. He let out a prolonged moan at the full taste of Lex, the bitter, musky fluid sparking something primal within him. He suckled the pulsing cock in his mouth, drawing out Lex's orgasm until the lithe body in his hands slumped back, keening mewls sounding in his ears as Lex became sensitive. He pulled off the softening cock slowly, licking away any traces of come lingering on the spent shaft. Releasing his grip on Lex, he stood up, licking his lips, chasing any stray drops. 

"Knew you would taste amazing, Lexy."

"Jesus, Kal. How…" Lex panted, trying to recover from the best blow-job he'd ever been on the receiving end of, hating the manacles that kept him from pulling Kal to him. "I don't know whether I want to track down and kill every man you've done that to, or write them each an insanely exorbitant check for helping you perfect your skill."

"Aww, Lexy, jealous? Don't be. None of them compare to you, and none of them got me more than once."

Kal stepped up against Lex, capturing his mouth in a sloppy kiss, thrusting his tongue into Lex's mouth, sharing the taste of him. Feeling Lex settle under him, Kal broke the kiss and undid his belt, undressing at human speed to tease Lex back to arousal. Kept his gaze locked on Lex’s face as he slid his pants down, watched the way blue eyes blew wide with desire again as they took in his nakedness.

“Never would have taken you for one to go commando, Kal.”

“Yeah, well, I also don’t usually wear pants that are a size too tight, either.”

Kicking off his shoes and stepping out of his pants, Kal sped over to the small dresser by the bed and retrieved the bottle of lube he knew from experience was there. The snick of the cap was loud in the quiet of the room, Lex’s breathing speeding up as Kal poured a large drop of the slick gel onto his fingers, the older man’s heartbeat faster than even when Kal had been going down on him.

“God, you really want this, don’t you? Everything about you right now, is screaming for it.”

“Yes, oh fuck, yes, Kal. Please, fuck me.” Lex’s breath was coming out in sharp pants, and if Kal hadn’t known the unlikeliness of it, he would have been concerned that his asthma had made an unexpected return. He knew how much the want, the need, the deep ache of desire to be taken, owned, could leave someone a wreck of themselves. He’d seen it before, but never this appealing, this beautiful. “Please, Kal, I need it. Wanted this for so long.”

Kal stepped back up to him, placing the bottle in Lex’s hand to free one of his own, and wrapped his arm around Lex’s waist, hoisting him up along the wall. He pressed their groins together, groaning loudly as Lex’s cock slid against his own. Instinctively, Lex thrust up against Kal, his legs spreading to wrap around Kal’s broad body. 

The feel of Kal, of Clark, pressed against him, skin on skin, warm and hard against his own sweat-damp body, was like finding nirvana, a bliss he’d never managed to achieve through any of the designer drugs or thousand dollar bottles of scotch he’d sampled throughout his misspent youth. Better than any of the faceless fucks in back alleys and rooms like this. Just like he always knew it would be, and better than he ever dared to imagine. 

Kal’s grip tightened around him as he took a step back, angling Lex’s body away from the wall. He bent his head to tease his mouth over Lex’s bared throat, renewing the color of the markings he’d left, deepening them. Sliding his slicked hand down, he trailed his fingers between Lex’s cheeks, smirking against his skin as he felt him shudder at the touch of his wet fingertip around the clenching rim. He circled the furl of sensitive skin, pressing the tip of his finger past the ring of muscle as it slowly loosened at his touch. Looking up, he could see Lex's face twisted into a rictus of pleasure, eyes squeezed shut, teeth sinking into his bottom lip so hard Kal was surprised he hadn't drawn blood. Leaning forward, he flicked his tongue over the white line of scar tissue that divided the otherwise perfect cupid's bow, making the billionaire gasp and let loose the keening whimper of need he'd been biting back.

"That's it, Lexy. Don't hold back now, not when I already know how sweet you sound." Kal let his finger slip further into Lex, thrusting slowly. "God, are all you CEO types like this? So pretty when you finally get to let go, let someone else make all the choices? Think I could track down Bruce Wayne, make him break, make him plead? Or Oliver Queen…bet he'd look almost as pretty as you, stretched open around my fingers."

Lex let out a low growl, teeth bared in a snarl as he fought against his restraints, inadvertently pushing himself harder down on Kal's hand. His legs clamped harder around Kal's hips, thighs straining with the useless effort. All the supine submissiveness gone as he twisted himself towards Kal.

"Don't you dare! You're mine, do you hear me, Kal? I don't care how high you are on the red meteorite, you don't get to touch anyone else like this, ever again. I won't share you."

"Relax, Lexy. I was just teasing. You're so easy to ruffle, and so fucking sexy when you're mad." Kal eased another finger in beside the first, scissoring the digits to stretch the tight passage further. Lex whined again as thick fingers worked him open, sagging back against the wall, the ire he'd worked himself into dissipating and replaced once again by the need to give himself over to the young man surrounding him. "You make such a pretty little submissive, anyway, I don't need anyone else. Christ, you're tight. You gonna be okay like this? Don't think I have the patience now to stretch you as much as you probably need."

Lex moaned as Kal's huge cock thrust up against his own at the same time as his fingers pushed deep into him and crooked, pressing against his prostate. Kal was definitely in the running for the biggest he'd taken, and it had been at least two years since he had bottomed, but pain was no hindrance in the face of the pleasure he knew awaited. After all, Kal wanted to tear him apart, didn't he? What better way to be rent asunder? 

"Answer me, Lexy. Can you take me?"

"Yess. Fuck. Do it, Kal. Make it hurt. Make it good." 

Shifting them both so that Lex's shoulders were braced against the wall, Kal unwound his arm from around him and reclaimed the bottle of lube. He poured a generous amount over both their cocks and tossed the bottle unerringly over his shoulder to land on the bed. Wrapping his hand around their erections, he stroked in rhythm to the thrusts of his fingers. 

Lex yelped at the unexpected grip around his sorely neglected cock, hoping Kal wouldn't linger on this step, not wanting to come again before the brunette was inside him.

"Kal! Wait…condom."

He knew he couldn't get sick, and even if he suspected that Clark, or Kal, couldn't either, he didn't want to take the risk that he might be a carrier and he hadn't bothered to get tested in a while. 

"Trust me?"

And that brought Lex to a still. Kal - Clark - had shown him so much tonight, had trusted him without question, exhibiting multiple abilities - speed, strength, acknowledgement of the way the meteors affected him - blindly trusting him to stay, to take it in stride. How could he not do the same now, both of them naked and open, vulnerable. He could destroy the man in front of him just as effectively as Kal could snap his neck with one large hand. But he couldn't, not really. Neither of them could ever bring themselves to hurt the other so permanently, and they both knew it. 

"Yes."

And there was Clark, in that blinding flash of smile as the world moved too quickly, pressure around his cock gone as fingers were replaced by the blunt, wide head of Kal's cock pressing against his slick hole. Muscle stretching further, bordering on pain, as Kal pushed slowly into him, eyes widening, darkening. Slick hands found tentative purchase at his hips, fingers digging slightly into skin as he pinned Lex in place, prohibiting him from thrusting himself down on the thick girth that split him open.

"Ohhhh! Kal, please!"

"God, I like it when you beg, Lexy." Another inch deeper, tight heat surrounding his cock as he speared into the man who had given himself up to his mercy. His head reeled with it, the surrender, the culmination of years of longing. Slowly, so slowly, he slid into Lex, his cock throbbing, fighting back the need to slam into the body he had spent so long fantasizing about. He was surprised how much he enjoyed teasing them both by going so slowly, now that he was finally pushing into Lex, instead of the quick, hard fuck he'd promised. "So tight, baby! So pretty, splitting open on my cock, begging for more. My sexy little whore."

Lex moaned at the filth pouring from the polite, young man that he'd hardly ever even curse before tonight, and never without a following blush of embarrassment. His cock twitched at the blatant ownership, the 'whore' uttered as a term of endearment rather than spat out as degradation. Clark had always owned him, heart and soul; this claiming of his body was mere formality. He just hoped that once Kal was set aside, Clark would still be this honest, this open. This masterful. 

"Kal…Jesus, Kal, please, take me. Hard, fast." Kal had finally bottomed out within him, the full length and girth of him stretching him more than he'd ever been stretched. He had never felt so full, and he anguished at the way Kal waited, mouth working at that spot again. He wanted to feel that tug of skin against skin as he withdrew, that forcing push as he thrust back in. "Move! Need you to move, Kal."

Kal groaned at the desperation in Lex's voice, and, feeling the slightest bit mean, he dipped his head to Lex's shoulder, scraping his teeth along his jawline up to his ear.

"Now, is that any way to ask for what you want, Alexander?"

Lex's breath hitched in his throat, his cock twitching painfully at the husky voice whispering in his ear. God, he wanted to burn down every club like this one that Clark had honed these skills in. Even the most highly paid dom Lex had ever had in his employ hadn't managed to convey such command in one mere sentence. 

"Please, Kal. Please move, please, Kal, fuck me."

"Good boy, Lexy."

And then, he moved. A quick pull out, until his cock nearly left its snug hole, and a deep thrust back in, his balls slapping against the curve of Lex's ass. Lex cried out in relief, both at the movement and the return of Lexy. So, Alexander for disapproval - and didn't that just sting all the more for his upbringing - and Lexy for praise and satisfaction. The new nickname was quickly going to end up making him hard just hearing it, no matter the context. 

"Yes!" Lex's arms were aching, pulling against the chain holding him suspended as Kal kept stroking, his legs clenching around his broad back, but he didn't care. The pain only served to ramp his need higher. "Yes, Kal, oh, God, don't stop, please don't stop."

Kal didn't intend to, not anytime soon. He'd never felt like this with anyone he'd been with. None of those anonymous partners had ever made him feel this wanted, this needed. This loved. His cock swelled, all too soon, and he willed his stamina to hold out, to drag out this pleasure as long as he could. 

"God, Lexy. So perfect. Fuck! Love the way your ass feels around me, baby."

Minutes passed, the sound of flesh on flesh, and Lex's breathless cries of passion filling the air as Kal pumped into his pliant body, mouthing along his throat and jaw. He could fuck this body forever and never want to come, but eventually, he felt his balls draw up, climax rushing upon him. It was too good to last, the need to spill into the tight passage and mark his claim from the inside too urgent to fight off any longer. 

Crushing himself against Lex's body, the older man's cock pressed between them, he sped his thrusts faster.

"Come for me, Lexy. Wanna feel this tight ass squeezing my cock as you fall apart." Kal captured Lex's gasping mouth with his own, his tongue thrusting in as deep as his cock plunged into Lex's ass. "I love you, Lex. As Kal, as Clark. I love you. Come, now!"

Lex screamed out his orgasm, glad once again for the soundproofing of the room and the thundering music of the club that would drown out any sound that might have escaped from between the lips sliding against his own. He felt his orgasm rocket through him, his cock pulsing as ropes of come splattered against Kal's chest, marking him. Claiming him.

Kal felt the muscles clamp down around him, tightly enough that he knew a human would have felt pain where he just felt increasingly incredible pleasure. He let Lex wrench his head away as his release spilled between them, neverending. His own climax spilling as Lex found his voice.

"I love you, too. Always."

"Oh God…coming!"

Kal fought not to crush Lex in his grip as he came, the intensity of his climax unlike anything he'd ever felt. He clamped his eyes shut, the prickle of heat tingling like it hadn't in years. Control had never felt this tenuous with any of his past lovers, and, really, he should have known Lex would be different, even in this. 

Finally, as he filled Lex so completely that he could feel the come start to trickle back down his cock, it ended, his breath coming in heaving gasps as he stilled. He pried his eyes open as the heat receded, locking on Lex's wary gaze. 

Lex watched Kal as the brunette came down from his orgasm, uncertain who he was looking at. 

"Kal?"

"I'm still him, you know. Even with the ring. It's okay, Lexy." Kal pressed Lex against the wall for support as he let go of his hips, one hand going to the other, fingers toying with the ring. "Tell me one thing first. Do you want it like this, like tonight, for real? Even without the red? Do you want to submit to me?"

"Yes." No hesitation, no time taken to think. Just automatic response. 

Kal smiled as he tugged the ring off, the curve of his lips never faltering as his eyes flashed red and cleared, Clark shining through. 

Clark's lips crushed against Lex's in a bruising kiss, his cock still half-hard hard inside the other man, twitching in interest as their tongues tangled. As the effect of the red meteor rock left Clark's system completely, Lex felt the kiss shift, from fevered and hungry to soft and searching. And this, this was the kiss he'd always imagined they would share. This was all Clark. And it left him just as breathless as any of Kal's ravenous claimings of his mouth. 

"Clark." 

Clark trailed away from Lex's mouth to rain gentle kisses over his face as he eased himself out of Lex, setting the older man on his feet again and soothing his hands over Lex's wobbly thighs. Lex allowed the petting, still basking, but jostled the chains that kept his arms extended.

"Uh, do you mind?"

Clark smiled almost sheepishly at Lex, his hands sliding back up along Lex's body to his wrists. Keeping his gaze locked on Lex's, he tugged and the chain snapped between his hands. Steel blue eyes widened slightly at the quiet show of strength, and Clark felt Lex's cock twitch in arousal against his hip. 

"Showoff. There's keys in the drawer, you know."

Clark grinned smugly.

"Apparently, you liked it."

Before Lex could snark back, Clark scooped him up in his arms and strode across the room to lay him on the bed. Luthor money most definitely meant clean sheets. Crossing over to the adjoining bathroom that was nearly hidden, he found a washcloth and a glass. He filled the glass with cold water and wet the cloth with warm, cleaning himself up cursorily before rejoining Lex. 

"Clark, you don't -"

Clark silenced him with a glare, handing him the glass. A raised eyebrow got him to take a sip of the tap water, his nose wrinkling in distaste. 

"Diva."

Lex felt tempted to stick his tongue out at that, but clamped down on the urge as Clark swiped the washcloth between his legs, gently cleaning away the mess leaking out of him. He'd never let any of the others even bother attempting aftercare with him, not wanting the coddling from those he barely knew. This was pleasant, though, and something he could get used to. 

Tossing the soiled cloth unerringly at a basket in the corner, Clark straightened back up and took the glass from Lex, setting it on the table by the bed. He sped into his clothes, huffing a pleased chuckle at Lex's soft moan of desire and regret at the loss of Clark's skin on display. 

Placing a chaste kiss on Lex's lips, he whispered a quiet command to stay and sped out the door. 

Clark zipped his way through the crowd to the bar and ordered a Coke. Once the bartender turned to fix the glass, he sped to the coat-check room, which was blissfully unattended, and retrieved their jackets. The bartender turned back around, setting the glass on the counter, and eyed the coats with a modicum of confusion. He was paid too much to bother puzzling over it though, and Clark took the glass without question. Placing his free hand over the top of the glass of soda, he rushed back to the room without spilling a drop. 

In the room, he handed Lex the glass, smiling in approval as the slender man drank deeply from it. 

"You know, you're going to have to be more circumspect about flitting about in densely populated areas. I'll go bankrupt if I have to pay off every club we go to so they'll wipe their security tapes."

Clark ignored the chiding and took the empty glass from Lex, setting it aside, and pulled him from the bed. He bundled Lex into both coats, making sure he was modestly covered, snatched up Lex's shoes, wallet, and  keys, and lifted Lex back into his embrace. Lex sighed in resignation and slung his arms around Clark's neck, knowing he wouldn't be allowed to leave the club under his own power.

Before he opened the door with his free hand, Clark looked down at the precious cargo curled against his body. 

"Still trust me?"

"Always, Clark. Always."

"I trust you, too."

And with that he sped them through the club, out the door and through the parking lot to where Lex's Lamborghini was parked. Wordlessly, Lex took the car keys from Clark, unlocked the trunk and changed into a set of the clothes he'd brought along for the brunette. The pants were slightly too big for his slimmer waist, and the shirt cuffs slipped past his wrists - which still were bound in the remains of the manacles - but the attire would do for the short drive to his penthouse. No way was Clark going back to his dorm tonight. 

Tonight, they would talk. They would talk about what this meant, about where they would go from here. They would set out expectancies, limits, safe words, and the like. The old questions would not be brought back up. And, then, more than likely, they would have sex again. Without the red. Speaking of…

"Where's the ring, Clark?"

"In your coat pocket."

They shared a grin as Lex revved the engine and they sped off through the streets of Metropolis.

~~~~~~

@leatafandom

[tempestuous-tempest]

Again! Wrench Headcanons:

Guess this 28/41 year old is my hyperfixation for a while.[Age depends on which game he's in. WD2 has him at canonically 28 while Legion makes him canonically 41 years old.] This is about the length of my Deacon Rambles post...

Was a high school drop out at some point. Always getting in trouble for skipping classes, taking shit apart, having his hood/mask on, fighting because he didnt get along with people, etc etc. He hated school.

I see him as the type to have been a drummer in a band at one point. Eventually the band just fell apart but he has some of their songs on his phone still.

Loved the movie Scott Pilgrim vs. the World. In his mind, it had a badass sound track. 7 Nation Army by The White Stripes and Black Sheep by Metric and Brie Larson were real bangers in his mind.

Reeks of beer and gasoline most of the time. Change my mind.

Deadpool is this man's icon. Some of his jokes are inspired by jokes from the comics or movies. Has posters, funkos, obviously the comics and movies, and even dressed up as his own punk version of deadpool loosely based on the funko mini. His personal favorite mini was the chicken costume.

Has a unicorn stuffed animal himself.

Also likes Spider-Punk.

Likes Motorcycles a little bit more than cars.

Detective films? Yes. Action Movies? Definitely. Sci-Fi? Hell Yeah! Horror? Maybe not so much.

People seem to be unable to decide whether Wrench is Bi or Pan. I personally think he'd be Pansexual.

Doesn't like cleaning as he states ingame. Will clean if the mess starts to bother him. Or if Sitara makes him.

High metabolism which is why he's so thin.

Throwns in tons of movie/game references when speaking expecting people to get them and then has to explain them when they dont. Definitely geeks out when someone does.

You know that one audio trend with the person singing CPR and someone else yelling "Language"? He'd be the singer and Sitara would be the one yelling at him to mind his language.

Sends the most odd videoes at the most random of times.

Also the kind of guy that might not respond until like and hour or 2 later.

Tries to be pretty quiet in the mornings, besides the music blasting in his earbuds/headphones.

The more I think about the more I start to believe that his "bad driving" is just a thing he makes people believe until you see his dumb ass in a race and this fucker blows you away with his skills. Then you start to really understand why he can do perfect drifts getting away from the police or gangs in a chace.

Due to his always racing thoughts, he sometims forgets some things. Like he gets sent out to take out the trash, goes to the kitchen, forgets why he went in there, does a few circles to try and remember, then gives up and goes back to his room or workspace. It'll hit him like 20 minutes later.

Favorite food is probably Tacos. Pizza close in like 2nd or 3rd place, maybe.

Decent at voice impressions, if you couldnt tell.

Oh, and for those who absolutely need them, have some romance headcanons too:

Didn't show his face to his S/O until like 6 months into the relationship at the least. He was so fucking nervous too.

Wouldn't even fully open up about his past until probably a year in at the least.

Prepare for cheesy love songs, matching key chains, corny pick up lines, bits of playful teasing, and a lot of small physical touches. (Mostly hand holding but would wrap his arms around his s/o's waist) His s/o also wrapping their arms around his waist drives him nuts.

Needs a lot of reassurance that his s/o loves him. I wouldnt say constantly but quite a few times in the relationship, especially at the beginning.

He isnt exactly scared of commitment as he had a husband at one point. Key word: "Had". Dont expect him to fully settle down though. He still plans to fight until he is sure this battle is really over.

Two Words: Super. Clingy.

Might forget an anniversary, dont hold it against him. He sometimes forgets what he had for breatfast 15 minutes ago.

As I've mentioned before, he does not like kids. Don't expect a family with him.

No planned dates unless his s/o is the one who plans them. He kinda just does things whenever if both have the free time.

Makes sure to dial down his weirdness just a little so his s/o is comfortable. He takes things slow if they want them to be.

Was definitely taking forever to actually ask his s/o out. Hoped they would do it first but then got impatient after a while and just blurted out everything.

This is getting too long. Im done for now.

[the-temperance]

Elsa Schiaparelli (1890–1973) was an influential Italian fashion designer known for her avant-garde, surrealist-inspired creations. She rose to fame in the late 1920s and 1930s, challenging conventional fashion with bold designs, vibrant colours notably her signature "shocking pink" that is still associated with her brand today as well as unexpected/unconventional materials for day to day wear. Collaborating with artists like Salvador Dalí and Jean Cocteau, Schiaparelli introduced surrealism into fashion, creating iconic pieces such as the lobster dress (that has inspired artists like lady Gaga -who is known for her deviation and intense fashion statements-) and shoe hat. She was also a pioneer in using zippers as decorative elements contrasting the poor and hidden associations previously held and creating themed collections. Her rivalry with Coco Chanel is legendary, and though her fashion house closed in 1954(and now adorned by Daniel Roseberry) Schiaparelli remains a key figure in fashion history.

When creating an avant-guard surrealist Schiaparelli inspired piece I was drawn to her nature of creating unconventional themed collections. This drew me towards a Greek Mythology inspired collection drawing me to design a dress inspired by the queen of hell Persephone. Within the story hades use’s 6 pomegranate seeds to forcibly trap Persephone away from her mother for 6 months of the year known as autumn and winter. The dark tones within the dress is a portrayal of Demeter's growing depression without her daughter. However it is contrasted by the sharp red tones mostly portrayed as bejewelled embroidery along the neck line and surrounding her wrist; with the jewels adorning a seed type shape. There is also a red glove covering the right hand to both reference elegant gloves worn to high class events of the time and the act of obtaining the pomegranate seeds. Notably there is 6 large red ruby’s suspended from gold chain along the sleeve of the left arm to continue the motif of the pomegranate seeds. The entire garment would be constructed with a bias cut (against/diagonal to the straight of grain) drawing upon Schiaparelli’s common usage of this technique.

[foxes-that-run]

I Did Something Bad (on 29 April 2016)

Taylor wrote Gorgeous, Delicate and Did Something Bad around the same time (see Making of Video), there were all recorded in September but refer to earlier events. In the 29 April 2023 Eras show Taylor added High Infidelity to this story which refers to 29 April.

Timeline

See 2016 timeline

2 January: Harry is on a Yacht with Kendall in the red shirt.

2 February: Harry wore this blue St Laurent shirt on his birthday

11 February - Kanye releases Famous, Taylor & Harry seen in LA

20 February Harry wrote Sweet Creature on the 20th

21 February Calvin started Ole, a bitter song about about cheating. CH wore Harry's shirt in the MV and the red one was included also

28 February: Harry Tweeted you can shake an apple off a tree. His instagram had been B&W for 2 years since OOTW was released October 2014. He posted a colour photo on the 25 Feb 2016. It stayed colour from 7 May.

March 15 - Taylor and Calvin have heavily photographed beach holiday. She repeats this move in 2018 with Joe.

April 29 - Taylor refers to an affair on this date in High Infidelity. as HS and TS were both in LA on that date. Taylor and Kendall were at Gigi Hadid's birthday the night before. Harry's Kiwi music video also includes a kid dressed like Taylor on that night.

May 2 - the met gala was the key date while she was with Joe. On midnights she changed it to 29 April. CH and TS were barely seen together in 2016 and this seems it was over in April. Harry left to shoot Dunkirk. Taylor wrote and recorded IDWLF

29 April 2017 - Our boy celebrated the anniversary of this particular secret rendezvous by getting papped 3 times in the same shirt. They also released Me! and the HH tracklisting on that date.

There is a great detailed post about this here.

Rattata sound

The Rattata sound at the end of I did something bad is also suspiciously similar to a Rakaka sound in a leaked Harry Styles song. In Harry's song, he has a secret rendezvous with an ex who phones him unexpectedly and he picks up on the way home.

This raises a question on the timing of the events of Pick You Up and Did Something Bad, PYU refers to his sister’s birthday which is in December, they were at the VS show 3 December 2014, the songs may be about different days. Taylor was in Australia on Gemma’s birthday 2015. Now we don’t talk seems like they weren’t talking in January.

Calvin's bitter song was' Reggae themed - Ole,

Lyrics

Taylor has said she was inspired by the Stark Sisters in not having remorse for actions.

I never trust a narcissist But they love me So I play 'em like a violin And I make it look oh so easy ... If a man talks shit, then I owe him nothing I don't regret it one bit, 'cause he had it coming

The opening verses set a vengeful mood and highlight the grievance TS had over the Narcissist (CH) taking credit for her work on This is what you came for.

I never trust a playboy But they love me So I fly him all around the world And I let them think they saved me They never see it comin' What I do next This is how the world works You gotta leave before you get left

Here TS has also referred to HS as a playboy who wanted to save her and sets the mood for how angry she feels at the situation..

They're burning all the witches, even if you aren't one They got their pitchforks and proof Their receipts and reasons They're burning all the witches, even if you aren't one So light me up (light me up), light me up (light me up)

'they're burning all the witches' also appears on the stairs in the video for Ready for It, another song in the first half of the album that are about HS.

In later songs, Adore You Harry includes "I'd walk the fire for you"

2016 and Reputation posts.

[mr-laveau]

@cashandprizes has handed me the keys to the kingdom and now that means I get to info-dump about EVERYTHING I've had in mind while designing each and every one of these characters. To start, welcome to...

Laveau's Redacted Design Notes: Bloodbound Edition I

Without further delay, let's get into it.

Darlin's design incorporates elements from their pack since I wanted to visually show similarities between them and the pack by having them share tastes in clothes. It also was me solidifying my HC that the pack rubs their fashion sense off on each other. (David), Darren wears a leather jacket and a belt with a silver buckle; (Asher), they sport a choker and high waisted pants; (Milo), they also wear ripped shirts and share boot colors; (Christian), they both wear gloves.

The floral print on Sam's shirt is actually a Chrysanthemum; It's a flower that carries the symbolic meaning of devoted love, loyalty, happiness, longevity, and joy–appropriate to his role in Darlin's story. More specifically, given the color of his shirt, Sam represents a red Chrysanthemum which also represents deep love and passion. They're also flowers that have medicinal properties too!

Vincent's jumpsuit is designed specifically to reference a mechanic's jumpsuit given his love of cars. The jumpsuit is printed with a rose floral pattern which–in addition to the pearls around his neck(which is queer symbolism)–are symbols of Aphrodite, something I find fitting given the similarities he and the goddess have.*Vincent was also deisgned with the intention of him looking like a fuck boy, his blonde bangs also were meant to reference fangs

I said this on twitter some time ago but Alexis being Persian was something I wanted to run with given how desired Persian women were to the colonizers and outsiders of the country long ago (and still are today), being objectified and simplified without regard to their humanity. Much of her design choices are based on the idea of desire, her likeness to Betty Boop (a heavily sexualised character), her sweater having roses (flowers that represent love and desire), her dress, her balletcore-inspired outfit (being a reference to ballerinas–which fun fact, they used to be used as prostitutes after shows for patrons) are all a part of the larger bit. I also made Alexis a WOC for the specific purpose that anytime a WOC is presented as flawed and beautiful, they are immediately lined up to be femme fatales or villains–call that meta commentary if you want. *again, yes, I'm of the school of thought where we HC Alexis as a flawed person cuz canon ain't saying enough.

Lovely's design is heavily inspired by several gaming references; their post-inversion design includes a sweater that reads "reset", a reference to undertale and fitting regarding the fact that it's a post-inversion design; their pre-inversion hoodie reads "game over" on the front which I will admit is a morbid joke foreshadowing their turning; their color palette is heavily inspired by Raiden Shogun from Genshin Impact; the controller symbols on their sleeves in the pre-inversion design is an obvious playstation reference, and the "NPC" on the sleeves of their post-inversion design is a small nod to the fact that Lovely, at the time of designing, did not feel like a very active listener (still don't, to some degree) so I threw that in there!

Bright Eyes is heavily inspired by the Magical Girl genre of anime; her bikini top has a reference to Senketsu from Kill La Kill and a ribbon tie that resembles a part of Usagi's Sailor Moon uniform; her hair and choker are also inspired by Usagi and her color palette is based on Panty from Panty and Stocking. She is prime black magical girl material™️. *Her design also incorporates eye imagery due to their namesake and the fit is heavily inspired by Aliyahcore.

Quinn's design is littered with Christian religious iconography. His choker and earring are all upside down crosses which are typically regarded as signs of evil, his other hoop earring was intended to draw close to halo (but ehhh, not really) and all of them being silver was a decision based on the facts that A.) Silver is regarded as a pure and holy metal and, B.) Silver is traditionally the weakness of a werewolf–which when contextualized with his involvement with Darlin can be read as him maliciously equipping himself with silver to hurt them or be seen as him being their weakness in some way.

William's design is purely meant to communicate the fact that he is rich, elegant and powerful. For those of you who don't know, braids (especially well done braids) can be a sign of wealth because them shits ain't cheap to put in and best believe, Will has his done by the best in Dahlia. Speaking of symbols of status, use of the gold accessories and ruby are intentionally put there to emphasize his status as the Solaire clan's king. Additionally, Rubies are associated with blood, power and youth as well as acting as talismans of protection.

Sam's alternate design is actually based on a rattlesnake! The many fang shapes in it, the rattlesnake-skinned pattern on the band of his hat, the beads in his hair and the snake tattoo were pretty much dead giveaways. The choice to base him on a rattlesnake was all set in stone by the fact that rattlesnake venom also has healing properties in addition to being dangerous which I found fitting for Sam! *Fun fact: I kept thinking of rattlesnake Jake while I was designing him. That was also the reason he was based on a rattlesnake. LEAVE ME ALONE–

Quinn and Darren both share thorn motifs but in different ways. Quinn's motif is meant to play on my interpretation of him being close to that of a cult leader, someone who reels people in at their most vulnerable and brings them under his allegiance, thus his use of the thorn motif was to be presented as a martyr/anti-christ figure. Darren's use of the thorn motif specifically ties into their guarded personality and affections towards Sam (a rose with thorns). The best part is that the shirt's thorn design, while alluring, also adds to the pattern or scars on his body and on his neck where Darr bit him. They fulfill the idea of both hiding and blending in with his scars to somewhat embolden them in my HC where Quinn uses his pain as a point of pride for attracting others whilst not being vulnerable enough to actually let them see his humanity behind the image he's built up.

Alexis and Darlin share rose motifs solely based on how they presented their affections to Sam. Alexis being having roses as she simply put herself out there as an option for Sam (queue the bachelor reference) and Darren being a rose with thorns (see above). Interestingly enough, Alexis and Vincent have this in common as well as two vampiric royalty who turned their royalty and presented their affections openly towards the people they prospectively were interested in.

Quinn, like Darren, wears a choker and while this initially was meant to push the image of a priest/cult leader, I also used this as a visual similarity to Darlin given their shared history.

Some of the designs contain references to Greek Mythology. Vincent's pearls and rose jumpsuit are symbols of Aphrodite similarly to the patterns on Darren's pants and Alexis' top. Darlin however more so represents Aphrodite Areia/ Aphrodite the Warlike which was Sparta's epithet for her as a war goddess. Lovely's peacock earring is a nod to Hera which becomes interesting when you consider that Lovely's hair is shaped like lightning bolts which is Zeus's symbol.

[epicpu24]

Understanding the Types of Fashion | Trends and Styles

Fashion is an ever-evolving domain that reflects cultural, social, and historical contexts. It encapsulates a broad spectrum of styles and trends that vary across regions and eras. From haute couture to streetwear, the diversity in fashion styles showcases creativity, individuality, and the human penchant for self-expression. In this blog, we will delve into various types of fashion, exploring their origins, characteristics, and influences.

Haute Couture

Haute couture, translating to "high sewing" or "high dressmaking," is the epitome of luxury fashion. Originating from Paris, it refers to the creation of exclusive, custom-fitted clothing made from the finest materials and with meticulous attention to detail. Designers like Coco Chanel, Christian Dior, and Jean-Paul Gaultier have set the standards for haute couture. Each piece is a work of art, often requiring hundreds of hours of labor. Haute couture is not just about the garment but also about the craftsmanship and the heritage of the fashion house.

Ready-to-Wear (Prêt-à-Porter)

Ready-to-wear fashion bridges the gap between haute couture and mass production. Unlike haute couture, which is made for individual clients, ready-to-wear clothing is produced in standard sizes and available in retail outlets. These collections are often showcased during fashion weeks in major cities like New York, Paris, Milan, and London. Designers like Yves Saint Laurent popularized this type of fashion, making high-quality, stylish clothes accessible to a broader audience.

Streetwear

Streetwear emerged from the urban youth culture of the 1980s and 1990s, heavily influenced by skateboarding, hip-hop, and punk. Characterized by casual, comfortable pieces such as hoodies, sneakers, and graphic T-shirts, streetwear blurs the lines between fashion and everyday wear. Brands like Supreme, Off-White, and A Bathing Ape (BAPE) are iconic in this genre. Streetwear often involves limited edition releases and collaborations with artists and other brands, creating a sense of exclusivity and community.

Vintage and Retro

Vintage fashion refers to clothing and accessories from previous decades, often considered timeless and of high quality. Retro fashion, on the other hand, involves contemporary clothing designed to mimic the style of a previous era. Both styles celebrate nostalgia and the cyclical nature of fashion trends. Vintage shops and thrift stores are treasure troves for unique pieces that tell a story. Designers like Vivienne Westwood have incorporated vintage elements into their collections, blending old and new.

Bohemian (Boho) Fashion

Bohemian fashion, often shortened to "boho," draws inspiration from the free-spirited lifestyle of the 1960s and 1970s hippie movement. Characterized by flowing fabrics, earthy tones, and eclectic patterns, boho fashion exudes a relaxed, unconventional vibe. Key elements include maxi dresses, fringe, embroidery, and ethnic prints. Brands like Free People and Anthropologie have popularized this style, making it a staple for music festivals and casual wear.

Preppy

Preppy fashion is inspired by the traditional clothing styles of American prep schools and Ivy League universities. It is characterized by clean, classic, and polished looks. Key pieces include polo shirts, khaki pants, blazers, and loafers. The style emphasizes quality and timelessness, with brands like Ralph Lauren, Tommy Hilfiger, and Lacoste being quintessential preppy labels. Preppy fashion embodies an understated elegance and a sense of tradition.

Grunge

Grunge fashion originated in the early 1990s, inspired by the Seattle music scene and bands like Nirvana and Pearl Jam. It is characterized by an unkempt, "thrown-together" look, often featuring flannel shirts, ripped jeans, combat boots, and oversized sweaters. The grunge aesthetic is anti-establishment and rejects the polished, mainstream fashion norms. Designers like Marc Jacobs have brought grunge elements to high fashion, blending rebellion with style.

Minimalist

Minimalist fashion focuses on simplicity, clean lines, and a limited color palette. It emphasizes quality over quantity, with a preference for timeless, versatile pieces. Key elements include monochrome outfits, tailored cuts, and understated accessories. Brands like COS, The Row, and Jil Sander exemplify minimalist fashion. The minimalist approach advocates for a more sustainable wardrobe, encouraging thoughtful consumption and investment in enduring pieces.

Avant-Garde

Avant-garde fashion pushes the boundaries of conventional design, embracing innovation, experimentation, and artistic expression. It often features unconventional materials, asymmetrical cuts, and dramatic silhouettes. Avant-garde designers like Alexander McQueen, Rei Kawakubo (of Comme des Garçons), and Issey Miyake create pieces that challenge the norms and provoke thought. This type of fashion is not always about wearability but rather about making a statement and exploring new frontiers.

Athleisure

Athleisure combines athletic and leisurewear, creating a style that is both comfortable and fashionable. It includes items like yoga pants, leggings, sports bras, and sneakers that can be worn for both exercise and everyday activities. This trend reflects the growing emphasis on health, wellness, and the casualization of dress codes. Brands like Lululemon, Nike, and Athleta are pioneers in athleisure, offering functional yet stylish options for the modern, active lifestyle.

Gothic

Gothic fashion draws inspiration from the dark, mysterious aesthetics of gothic literature, architecture, and music. It often features black clothing, lace, velvet, corsets, and Victorian-inspired accessories. The style can range from romantic and elaborate to punk-influenced and industrial. Designers like Alexander McQueen and Rick Owens have incorporated gothic elements into their collections, blending darkness with high fashion.

Punk

Punk fashion emerged in the 1970s as a rebellious statement against the mainstream. It is characterized by DIY elements, distressed fabrics, safety pins, leather jackets, and bold hairstyles like mohawks. Punk fashion is inherently anti-establishment and often incorporates political messages. Designers like Vivienne Westwood played a crucial role in bringing punk aesthetics to the fashion world, merging subculture with haute couture.

Ethnic and Traditional

Ethnic and traditional fashion celebrates cultural heritage and craftsmanship from around the world. It includes clothing and accessories that are specific to a culture or region, such as Indian saris, Japanese kimonos, African Ankara prints, and Native American beadwork. This type of fashion preserves and honors cultural identity while often inspiring contemporary designers to incorporate traditional elements into modern designs.

Business and Formal

Business and formal fashion revolves around professional and sophisticated attire suitable for work environments and formal occasions. Key pieces include tailored suits, blazers, dress shirts, pencil skirts, and formal dresses. Brands like Hugo Boss, Armani, and Brooks Brothers are renowned for their business attire. This type of fashion emphasizes professionalism, confidence, and elegance.

Casual and Everyday

Casual fashion encompasses comfortable and practical clothing for everyday wear. It includes items like jeans, T-shirts, sneakers, and casual dresses. This style prioritizes comfort and ease, making it versatile for various activities. Brands like Levi's, Gap, and Uniqlo are staples in casual fashion, offering timeless pieces that can be dressed up or down.

Sustainable Fashion

Sustainable fashion focuses on environmental and ethical responsibility. It involves using eco-friendly materials, fair trade practices, and promoting slow fashion over fast fashion. Sustainable fashion aims to reduce the negative impact on the planet and improve working conditions in the fashion industry. Brands like Patagonia, Stella McCartney, and Eileen Fisher are leaders in this movement, advocating for a more mindful approach to fashion consumption.

Conclusion

The world of fashion is vast and varied, encompassing a multitude of styles that cater to different tastes, cultures, and occasions. From the opulence of haute couture to the practicality of casual wear, each type of fashion tells a unique story and serves a distinct purpose. Understanding the diversity in fashion not only broadens our sartorial horizons but also deepens our appreciation for the creativity and craftsmanship that define this ever-evolving industry. Whether you gravitate towards the timeless elegance of preppy fashion or the bold statements of avant-garde, there is a style for everyone in the tapestry of fashion.

[pinkacademic]

Mature PA Fashion Archetype: The Editor

Considering some of my inspiration was 13 going on 30, I don't know if this is "Mature" but we vibe!

The Editor, inspired by The Devil Wears Prada, Ugly Betty, and 13 Going On 30. Of course, this is inspired by the fashion girly dreams of “the Chanel boots” like either Andy Sachs of Luke Skywalker, to your preference. But the fashion world is evolving to include new names, and the fashion girlies online are thrift-flipping queens. My goal is to balance both. You know this one is long because I actully remembered the Keep Reading for once:

Thrifty Girly

Slipdresses, camisoles, sleepwear as daywear- I’m not breaking new ground by pointing this one out, but the silky, sexy styling of a nightgown can range from Kate Bush- who has had a resurgence since last year- to Andy Sachs. If you were a stan of Ashley AKA bestdressed a few years ago, then you’ll know how cute these are.

Contrast. Combine garments regrdless of the gender that its intended for, wear princessy, fluffy skirts with a harness and combat boots, and clash your patterns against each other. The way to go is my making something about the outfit uniform to keep it cohesive, typically a colour-scheme.

Flipping- thrift-flips involve a bit of craftiness- take that plain t-shirt for 50p and some fabric markers, embroidery thread, patches, etc. Take a dress you like in at the waist, crop a men’s blazer etc. The key is finding what you like and perfecting it to your taste.

Emulating Designers

An article by JD Institute of Fashion Technlogy called the following the Top 10 Fashion Designers of All Time, so I picked 5 examples from that list! These aren’t necesarily my favourites, they were just a reference point.

Coco Chanel: to me, a Chanel look is black and white, potentially with a vibrant, candy-coloured pastel here or there, but I always think of black and white. Details include pearls, especially pearl buttons, a quilted bag, perhaps a bow, and the interlocking Cs.

Calvin Klein: I think of Back to the Future before I think of anything else, and I’m not a £50 t-shirt person… BUT, to emmulate Calvin Klein, you’ll need good quality denim, and a crisp, clean, probabaly white t-shirt. The style is very much basics, so to make it stand out without the branding, you’ll need them to be good-quality and well-fitting.

Donatella Versace: The New Arrivals section on the website is covered in slashes- all along the sides on some garments, across the chest in others- or deep cowls- like, to the navel. Cut-out details can be emmulated as modestly as a simple cold-shoulder, or go all the way. A deep V can go as high or as low as you like. I’m seeing mostly black, with some purple and bright pink.

Ralph Lauren: I think of a very preppy, classic, menswear look when I think of Ralph Lauren. This is what you wear to play golf on a superyacht, or whatever it is that rich people do… strong-coloured linen shirts, navy and white, and I’m seeing so many stong-contrasting stripes. I’m also seeing a lot of leather braided belts, which might not be the first thing you think of, but it adds to the nautical vibes.

Christian Dior: Dior invented the New Look, so you know that’s where I’m going on. That original outfit consisted of a long black skirt to the mid-calf and a white blazer that tapered in at the waist. You need that fifties dream skirt to really go classic, and I think to this day the deliver dresses that emphasise an hourglass shape.

[adultswim2021]

The Venture Bros. #40: “The Family That Slays Together, Stays Together (Pt. 1)” | August 17, 2008 - 11:30PM | S03E12

The best episode of season three, and one of the best Venture episodes period: The Family That Slays Together, Stays Together (Pt. 1)  is a fairly straight-forward episode that is so goddamn well-made. This is the payoff of a comparatively limp season. 

This one picks up directly where the previous episode left off, with Brock having just finished his fight to the death with his own car. Brock won. Moltov Cocktease shows up to confirm what Brock already knew: the OSI is looking to terminate Brock. Why? This isn’t totally clear; in fact I thought I was missing something. It turns out there’s more to the story that we don’t really know yet. What’s important is that Brock is on the run from three assassins. Brock tries to separate himself from the Ventures, but things don’t go as planned. Brock manages to get over on all of the assassins, which is good, because he’s a good guy and the assassins are bad guys.

Meanwhile, The Monarch and co are raiding the Venture compound after the events of The Lepidopterists have left them with probable cause to go after Dr. Venture. There they find Sgt. Hatred, Rusty’s previously Guild-sanctioned arch. He’s despondent over his impending break-up with Princess Tiny Feet, and is planning to just hang out in Venture’s bathroom until he or Brock find him and kill him. Dr. Girlfriend and him have a heart to heart while he sits on the toilet. Also, 21 needs to pee really bad. 

The first assassin is visually inspired by Klaus Kinski, and is said to be inspired by Udo Kier’s character in My Own Private Idaho, which I’ve never seen. His character is seemingly sexually obsessed with his motorcycle and guns and is very excitable. He’s freakishly intimidating. This is maybe the best scene in the episode. The entire fight takes place around the strip club, where Brock is visiting Hunter Gathers yet again. Hunter helps Brock get a passport and a contact list of OSI members who went off the reservation, as well as the keys to his car. The Venture Bros’ special airplane gets shot down in the scuffle, so Doc and the boys wind up crash landing. HeLPER heroically acts at the plane’s landing gear and saves them. It’s legitimately touching! I coulda cried! 

We catch up with Shore Leave and Mile High, who are now a pair of Youth Pastors going by different punny names. They do a Bibleman reference, which, unlike My Own Private Idaho, I HAVE SEEN. Brock squares off with the second assassin, a guy who looks like Robert Shaw from Jaws. This scene involves Brock using a shark carcass by dressing it up to look like him. He quickly sheers off his hair enabling him to use it as a wig for the shark, I guess. There’s a lot of cartoony stuff in this one, but I forgive it, because it’s all awesome. It’s like, the perfect balance between cartoonish nonsense and grounded character stuff. It’s the goddamn reason you make a show like this animated in the first goddamn place!

The third is a guy who, I had to google to figure this out, is based on Marvel Comics' Kraven the Hunter. This fight is maybe the most harrowing, as Brock winds up a nipple down. After fighting for their lives, they are annoyingly arrested by just some normal-ass cops.

Speaking of nipples, eagle-eyed viewers watching the blu-ray will note a Dr. Mrs. The Monarch nip-slip in one scene, which was not in the broadcast version at all (censored or otherwise). We also see Hatred’s D while he weeps on the toilet. Also: this episode originally aired with the TIKI TAKI MOTEL sign pixelated out. Can’t find a straight answer as to why after six minutes of googling, but I found out that the iTunes version, which came out soon after it aired on television, was in tact, and it was a source of confusion as to why it was blurred on TV but helped solve the mystery of what was under those pixels. My guess is it had to do with some kind of legal clearance panic that wound up being unnecessary.

MAIL BAG

What are your Man Show memories. I have a few. Here they are.

Hey, your memories got deleted, dude.

I did not purposely leave my Man Show memories blank! Apparently not only can you not show naked women on this website you can't even talk about them. Oh well. Sorry, but I won't be visiting this blog anymore! The uncanny Orwellianess is simply too much. Let me know if you go to substack.

Damn. Well, I was so addicted to cleavage (I still like it TBH) that I watched way too much of this show, even though the comedy was frustratingly uneven. I maintain that if you took the best 60 minutes of Man Show sketches that it would actually hold up as pretty funny. I remember taping and saving the sketch where they tried to cut in line at one of the Star Wars prequels, and one where Jimmy Kimmel bothers people in the bathroom stall next to his. He does a trivia question and then awards him a plate of brownies, which he passes under the stall. Legitimately very funny.

OTHER MEMORIES:

I always maintained that the show was meant to be more self-deprecating than it often wound up being, and I cite this one moment where Adam and Jimmy are showing a slideshow of people tailgating, and he shows a group of obviously gay guys as though they just took a picture of them covertly. The payoff was Jimmy and Adam gleefully join them. I get that it's still insensitive/problematic; it's still understood that the gay people are a punchline which wasn't really even that cool in the late 90s/early 2000s. But the studio audience all instinctively booed when they first showed the first slide AHH!

The German version of The Man Show aired a sketch called GAY BUSTERS, a parody of the Ghost Busters song. The music video showed the hosts using a protopack to just zap gay guys into nothingness. The sketch ended with the host addressing the camera, appearing to say something uh, angry-seeming. It was pretty scary.

And I like the Juggies! I think they're cute!!

[melumimanga]

Smooth Operator

Inspired by Sade's Song- Smooth Operator- https://youtu.be/4TYv2PhG89A

Diamond chandeliers, ruby lights, a Friday started right. Smooth Jazz night, saxophones playing and tranquilizing the club's atmosphere, bongo’s tapping at a slow rhythmic pace.

He was definitely here.

Jazz was always his favorite. 

The man of her dreams and nightmares, a man who can make hearts beat or break. 

How young and naive she was when he melted her heart.

“Sir, I'm glad you could make it.” a waitress swayed her hips seductively at the gangster who entered the club. All eyes laid on the well dressed man in a black suit and red velvet tie, followed by two black suited men. 

“It’s good to be here darlin’.” his New-yorken flowed deeply like a strong material of silk. 

It still made her spine shiver, like the times he would whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

He stood out like a sore thumb, but the female with piercing blue eyes stood out like a diamond in the rough, her arm wrapped around his. 

Her heart hammers hard in her chest, she can’t help but fall in love with him, and all of the memories resurface. The pain she was feeling wasn’t just heartbreak, it was longing to be held in his arms once more.

Her partner who would be playing the saxophone walked up to her. 

“You look really nice tonight, stunning wouldn’t even begin to describe it.”

He looks at her face to see her discomfort expression.

“Hey Teddy, are you alright.” the nickname slips from his lips with soft concern.

“I can’t do this, I- ju-st can’t” 

He looks at her then to the man in the crowd, her ex lover. 

He looks back at her pained expression of heartache, he caresses her cheek gently and looks at her with kind eyes. 

“Listen Teddy we have to give it our all, this is our first real show” he grabs her face softly to make her stare at him. “I understand your feeling this pain but the crew and I are giving it our all and we need you Teddy.”

Her glossy eyes focused onto his, reflecting the sadness in her heart.

“But how can I when he’s out there watching me.” she tries to hold in the tears from ruining her make-up.

“Then let him watch and let him see what he’s missed out on” her eyes go wide at the me’re statement “you're better than him in every way so don’t let him define or instill fear into you, just sing your heart out.”

He kissed the top of her forehead and left her to think about his words. Loud applause echoed in the club as the present band left the stage.

“I'm so glad that everyones enjoying the show, but the night is not over yet” 

Her stomach turns like a washing machine in high spin mode, as she waits for the sound of her band's name. 

“Give it up for their first show”

She calms her breathing and walks up on the stage, where her band looks at her with widened eyes of amazement. 

“For Teddy and The Suaves!”

The ruby lights hit her vision and she looks at her sax player and nods with the utmost confidence.

0:00 

The guitar, bongo’s and saxophone start off the song. Its slow and sensual like a smooth silk, she closes her eyes and waits for her part 

~Diamond life–  lover boy~

~We move in space with minimum waste and maximum joy~

She glides around the stage attracting every woman and man with her delicate waving hand and smooth movements.

~City lights~ and~business nights~

~When you require streetcar desire for higher heights~

Her silky voice soothes the air in the club, and romanticizes the dance floor with slow dances.

~No place for beginners or sensitive hearts~

Referring to her naive and innocent heart as a young girl.

~When sentiment is left to chaaaance~

~No place to be ending but somewhere to staaaart~

Her eyes open and she faces the crowd with open eyes.

~No need to ask-~

~He's a smooth operaaatoor~

~Smooth operator~

~Smooth operatoor~

~Smooth operator~

~Coast to coast, LA to Chicago, western maaale~

~Across the north and south, to Key Largo, love for saaale~

Her eyes lock on everyone in the crowd, other than him. She kept swaying her hips to the music and focused her mind on the lyrics. But unbeknownst to her, he was watching her body sway to the bongo’s. For some reason he was finding himself wondering what she meant by smooth operator and who. He chuckles to himself.

The sax’s player p closes his eyes enjoying the the sweet sounds her was producing along with the bongos

~Face to face - ~each classic case~

~We shadow box and double cross~

The singer does a soft shoulder shimmy, and lifts her head along with the microphone.

~Yet need the chassse~

~A license to love, insurance to hooold~

~Melts all your memories and change into goooold~

She touches her heart like a gentle feather. 

~His eyes are like angels but his heart is cooold~

A swift turn of her head she looks directly at him and sings 

~No need to ask-~

~He's a smooth operaaatoor~

~Smooth operator~

~Smooth operaator~

~Smoooth operaator~

~Coast to coast, LA to Chicago, western maaale~

~Across the north and south, to Key Largo, love for saale~

The gangster chuckles to himself and his lady looks at him curiously. 

“Honey, are you okay?”

He doesn’t turn to face his lady, but keeps his eyes on the female singer.

“Neva’ better.” he bites his lip seductively 

“Teddy, you're still thinking about me aren't ya.”

Smooth operator

She sings the two words repeatedly like a soft chant, her eyelashes slowly flutter like a butterfly's wings. Her eyes are no longer on the gangster she once loved but now on the sax’s players. She sings the word with a longing sadness, but she smiles knowing that she is going to be alright.

~Smoooth Operaator~

The song ends and the crowd erupts in cheers, whistles and claps. The singer had forgotten about the crowd and was a little shocked. 

“Thank you- um I couldn’t have done it without my crew” she gestures to them to come to her and they all hold each other's hands. She and her band all bow simultaneously, then come up to face the crowd once again. 

The sax’s player then takes her other hand and pulls her unto him. He places a small kiss on her forehead and says “You did a great job Teddy.” 

Sparkles lit up in her heart when he said, “You did amazing as always.” without thinking she places a kiss on his lips making the audience whistles louder.

I know I will be okay.

[thepiratedressing]

Difference Between Bodice and Corset: A Fashion Lover’s Guide

In the world of historical and fantasy-inspired fashion, bodices and corsets hold a special place. While they might seem similar, these garments have distinct purposes, designs, and histories. Let’s dive into the details to help you understand the difference and decide which one suits your style better.

What Is a Bodice?

The term bodice refers to the upper part of a garment that covers the torso, typically extending from the shoulders to the waist. Historically, bodices were part of full dresses, but they later evolved into standalone garments paired with skirts.

Key Features of a Bodice:

Structure: Lightly structured and designed for comfort.

Design: Can be laced, buttoned, or fastened, with a variety of styles ranging from plain to intricately decorated.

Purpose: Focuses on completing the outfit and enhancing the wearer’s style rather than shaping the body.

Bodices are versatile and perfect for creating romantic, historical-inspired looks. They’re often seen in Renaissance fairs, Bridgerton-themed events, and fantasy costumes.

What Is a Corset?

A corset, in contrast, is a structured garment used to shape and support the torso. It was historically worn as an undergarment to achieve specific silhouettes, like the hourglass figure. Today, corsets have made a comeback in modern fashion, often styled as outerwear.

Key Features of a Corset:

Structure: Heavily boned with steel or plastic, offering rigidity and support.

Compression: Designed to cinch the waist and enhance posture.

Purpose: Combines functionality with fashion, ideal for body shaping or making bold style statements.

Corsets are staples in gothic, steampunk, and bridal fashion, loved for their ability to transform any outfit.

How Are They Different?

Although both bodices and corsets are torso garments, their purposes set them apart. A bodice focuses on aesthetic appeal and comfort, often worn as outerwear. A corset, on the other hand, prioritizes structure and shaping, providing compression and support for the body.

Additionally, bodices are typically more flexible and comfortable, making them ideal for casual or themed looks. Corsets are more rigid and are best suited for formal occasions, dramatic styles, or costumes requiring a defined silhouette.

When to Wear a Bodice or Corset

Go for a bodice if you’re looking for a stylish, comfortable piece to pair with skirts or dresses. It’s perfect for Renaissance fairs, themed parties, or everyday wear with a vintage twist.

Choose a corset when you want to achieve a striking, hourglass figure or make a bold fashion statement. They’re great for gothic outfits, steampunk ensembles, or even bridal wear.

Styling Ideas

Pair a laced-up bodice with a flowy skirt for a romantic, period-inspired outfit.

Layer a structured corset over a blouse or dress for an edgy, steampunk look.

Add accessories like chokers, belts, or hats to complete your ensemble, whether you’re channeling a historical vibe or modern gothic aesthetics.

Shop Authentic Bodices and Corsets

Ready to bring timeless fashion into your wardrobe? Discover authentic, high-quality bodices and corsets at The Pirate Dressing.

🛍️ Shop now on our website: The Pirate Dressing 🛒 Find us on Amazon: The Pirate Dressing on Amazon

Whether you’re dressing up for a themed event or creating a statement look, our collection has everything you need. Explore today!

[nehxglamgo]

What to Expect When Booking Beauty Services for Special Events

Planning a special event can be exciting yet overwhelming, especially when it comes to ensuring that you look and feel your best. Whether you’re preparing for a wedding, gala, birthday, or any other special occasion, booking beauty services plays a major role in your overall experience and confidence. With the GlamGo app, booking these essential services has never been easier or more convenient. Here’s a breakdown of what to expect and tips to help you navigate the process, ensuring you get the best results for your big day.

 1. Planning Ahead is Key

For special events, it’s crucial to book beauty services well in advance. High-demand services, like bridal makeup or professional hairstyling, can book up months ahead, especially during peak seasons. Using the GlamGo app, you can quickly find beauty professionals nearby and secure an appointment with just a few taps.

Tip: For major events like weddings, aim to book your beauty services at least 3-6 months in advance. This gives you the chance to meet with your stylist or makeup artist beforehand, discuss your preferences, and even arrange a trial session.

 2. Understanding the Different Services Available

Special events often call for a range of beauty services, from hair and makeup to skincare and nail treatments. GlamGo offers a wide variety of beauty services to suit your specific needs, including makeup artist booking, hairstyling, skincare treatments, and more. Browsing the app’s options can give you a clearer picture of what’s available and help you decide which services to book.

Common Services to Consider:

- Professional Makeup: For flawless, long-lasting makeup that looks great on camera.

- Hairstyling: Choose from intricate updos, curls, or sleek styles that suit your dress and event.

- Facials and Skincare: Prepare your skin with treatments a few days or weeks before the event to ensure a radiant complexion.

- Manicures and Pedicures: Essential for polished, picture-perfect hands and feet.

- Spray Tans: For those looking to add a sun-kissed glow, a spray tan can give you a bronzed look without the sun damage.

 3. Trials and Consultations Are Worth It

For special occasions, it’s often worth the investment to have a trial session, especially for hair and makeup. A trial allows you to work with the artist to find the perfect look and make any adjustments before the event. The GlamGo app makes it easy to communicate with your chosen professionals, allowing you to schedule a trial session, exchange ideas, and even share inspiration photos.

Tip: Don’t be afraid to bring reference photos to your trial session, as it will help the artist understand your vision. Make sure to provide feedback during the trial, so your stylist or makeup artist can make any adjustments to meet your expectations.

 4. Prep Your Skin and Hair Beforehand

Leading up to the event, taking care of your skin and hair is essential. For the best results, start a good skincare routine a few weeks before the event, focusing on moisturizing and exfoliating. You might also want to book a facial a week before to ensure your skin is glowing and smooth. For hair, consider deep conditioning treatments to add extra shine and manageability.

Tip: Avoid trying any new skincare products or treatments just days before the event, as this can sometimes lead to unexpected reactions or breakouts. Stick to products and routines that your skin is already accustomed to.

 5. Communicate Your Needs and Preferences Clearly

Communication is essential to ensure your beauty team understands your vision and preferences. With the GlamGo app, you can chat directly with professionals to discuss your desired look, skin or hair concerns, and specific requirements, such as allergies or sensitivities. Sharing details like the event type, dress color, and desired makeup style helps the artist customize your look to suit the occasion.

Tip: Mention any specific concerns, like oily skin or frizz-prone hair, so the artist can choose the right products and techniques. Open communication is key to ensuring your satisfaction.

 6. Expect a Longer Appointment for Special Events

Beauty services for special events tend to take longer than regular appointments. For example, bridal makeup and hairstyling sessions can take several hours, as professionals pay close attention to detail to achieve a flawless look. On the day of the event, make sure to allocate enough time in your schedule for the appointment, plus a little extra in case of delays.

Tip: Check with your beauty professional about the expected time needed for the service. With the GlamGo app, you can see appointment durations, which helps you plan your day accordingly and avoid last-minute stress.

 7. Don’t Forget About Touch-Up Kits

For long-lasting beauty throughout the event, a touch-up kit can be a lifesaver. While professional makeup artists will use high-quality products designed for longevity, things like lipstick and setting powder are helpful to have on hand for any necessary touch-ups. Many beauty professionals can recommend specific products for touch-ups or may even provide a small kit for you to take along.

Tip: Ask your artist if they can leave you with a small pot of lipstick or setting powder they used on you for easy touch-ups. Alternatively, jot down the product names, so you can purchase them yourself.

 8. Be Open to Suggestions and Professional Advice

Beauty professionals have years of experience in creating looks that are both flattering and suitable for various occasions. They can recommend styles, colors, and techniques that you might not have considered but that would enhance your appearance. Be open to their suggestions and trust their expertise, especially if you’re unsure about a specific look.

Tip: If you’re feeling uncertain, let the artist know you’re open to ideas, but also communicate your personal style and comfort level. For example, if you usually prefer natural looks, mention that so they can tailor a look that aligns with your preferences.

 9. Take Advantage of GlamGo’s Features to Explore Options

GlamGo’s user-friendly interface allows you to browse through portfolios, reviews, and ratings, helping you make an informed choice when selecting a beauty professional. You can view before-and-after photos, read client testimonials, and compare different artists or stylists. Use these features to choose the right professional for your event, ensuring they align with your style and vision.

Tip: Browse the GlamGo app’s gallery to get inspiration for your look and check out portfolios of artists who specialize in the type of beauty service you’re seeking.

 10. Relax and Enjoy the Process

Special events can be stressful, so once you’ve secured your appointments, try to relax and trust the professionals. By using GlamGo, you’ve taken the time to book skilled artists who can bring your vision to life. Enjoy the pampering, take a few deep breaths, and focus on the excitement of the upcoming event.

Tip: Remember that confidence is key. Whether it’s your hair, makeup, or overall look, being comfortable in your own skin will make you shine even more. Embrace the process, and let the beauty professionals take care of the details.

Booking beauty services for a special event is about more than just looking good; it’s about feeling confident and ready to enjoy your big day. With GlamGo, the process becomes smoother, from choosing the right beauty professionals to communicating your preferences and ensuring you get a customized look. By planning ahead, preparing your skin and hair, and staying open to suggestions, you’ll be well on your way to a flawless look that lasts throughout your special occasion.

Use these tips to maximize the benefits of your beauty services and make the most of the GlamGo app’s features. With the right preparation and the help of skilled professionals, you’ll be able to look back on your event photos and feel proud of the beautiful, confident person staring back at you.

[yiqiuzhang]

Critical Annotation

This semester is my second semester. I continued the direction of the previous semester and continued to explore new topics in the field of feminism. Regarding the topic, this time I started from my own feelings and questioned the aesthetic standards of contemporary society by reflecting on the inconvenience and discomfort that women endure in their daily make-up dressing.

Heavy false eyelashes, heavy foundations, tight clothes or high heels, all of these adornments and cosmetics that are often found in women's daily lives are the starting point of my theme, each created to appeal to the aesthetic standards of society. While these are easy pains to ignore, when you wear them for a day, that pain is magnified. At the same time, I don't think women need to go through unnecessary pain and inconvenience.

The key frames I am working with are primarily portraits from current post-feminist and digital art. And I think this is a rich area of significance. Through my own feedback and that of the women around me, I began to think about whether women's pursuit of society's aesthetic mainstream is due to their own preferences or to a patriarchal social conditioning. Is it women's self-will to keep moving closer to their ‘idealised selves’, or is it the subtle influence of society and their surroundings that has led them to unconsciously pursue the aesthetics of society over a long period of time.

In this blog, I introduce several artists and their works that are closely related to the subject of my project. Among them, there are Cindy Sherman, Barbara Kruger and other feminist photographers who have made great contributions to the development of the feminist movement. There are artists like Jessica Ledwich and Pixie Liao who constantly explore the path of feminism and challenge the traditional authority. There are also emerging portrait photographers ZhongLin, Cho Gi Seok and so on. These artists and related books provide theoretical and visual guidance for my projects.

The blog documents my research and feelings about them. Some of the artists' bold explorations of social aesthetic frameworks have provided me with new ideas for the development of my work. For example, in Epidermis, the artist shows the real state of women's skin so that more viewers can understand the original state of women rather than the illusion of sophistication, and in Monstrous Feminine, the artist criticises the influence of society's value of vanity on women, and she presents the efforts and sacrifices made by women in order to 'stay young forever' in a grotesque and intuitive way. 'In Monstrous Feminine, the artist criticises the influence of society's vanity values on women. Through the research, I also learnt about the term 'female gaze'. It refers to an art form that presents subjective feelings through a woman's point of view, and I learnt about many artists' positive attempts in this regard and the power of the female gaze itself.

Overall, the work and ideas of these artists have provided me with a great deal of intellectual support for my project this semester, giving me a lot of inspiration and helping me to build my own framework.

[foshanword]

Embrace Your Style: Tips for Shopping at Chic Hot Club

Finding your unique fashion voice can be an exciting yet daunting journey. Chic Hot Club is here to simplify that process, offering a wide range of trendy, high-quality clothing that empowers women to express themselves confidently. Whether you’re a seasoned shopper or new to the fashion game, these tips will help you make the most of your shopping experience at Chic Hot Club and embrace your personal style.

1. Know Your Body Type

Understanding your body type is crucial for finding clothes that fit well and flatter your figure. Chic Hot Club offers a variety of silhouettes, so take the time to identify what works best for you. Whether you're curvy, athletic, or somewhere in between, knowing your body type can help you select pieces that enhance your natural shape.

Curvy: Look for dresses that cinch at the waist and skirts with a-line cuts to accentuate your curves.

Athletic: Opt for fitted styles that create curves, such as peplum tops and wrap dresses.

Petite: Choose high-waisted bottoms and cropped tops to elongate your frame.

2. Create a Style Inspiration Board

Before diving into shopping, gather inspiration to define your style. Use platforms like Pinterest or Instagram to create a mood board filled with outfits, colors, and trends that resonate with you. This visual reference can guide your choices and help you identify key pieces to look for at Chic Hot Club.

3. Start with Essentials

Building a wardrobe starts with versatile essentials that can be mixed and matched. Chic Hot Club offers a variety of basic pieces that serve as the foundation of any stylish outfit. Consider adding the following to your cart:

Classic Tees: These can be layered or worn alone for various looks.

Tailored Trousers: Perfect for both casual and professional settings.

LBD (Little Black Dress): A timeless piece that can be dressed up or down.

4. Experiment with Trends

Chic Hot Club is known for staying on top of fashion trends, so don’t hesitate to experiment with new styles. While it’s essential to have a solid foundation, incorporating trendy items can keep your wardrobe fresh and exciting. Try incorporating bold prints, vibrant colors, or unique silhouettes that speak to your personal style. Useful reference shop women's clothing

5. Mix and Match

Don’t be afraid to mix and match different styles, textures, and colors. Chic Hot Club’s versatile pieces allow for endless combinations. Here are a few tips:

Layering: Use jackets, cardigans, or vests to add depth to your outfit.

Patterns: Combine different patterns, like stripes and florals, but keep the color palette cohesive.

Textures: Pair soft fabrics with structured pieces for an interesting contrast.

6. Accessorize Thoughtfully

Accessories are a powerful way to express your style. Chic Hot Club offers a selection of trendy bags, jewelry, and scarves that can elevate any outfit. Consider these tips for accessorizing:

Statement Jewelry: Bold earrings or layered necklaces can turn a simple outfit into something special.

Bags: Choose a chic handbag that complements your outfit while being functional.

Scarves and Belts: These can add color and shape to your look, making a significant impact.

7. Pay Attention to Fit

Fit is key to looking polished and put-together. When shopping at Chic Hot Club, don’t shy away from trying things on or checking size charts. If you’re in doubt, consider ordering multiple sizes to see what works best for you. Tailoring is also an option for achieving that perfect fit on items that may need a little adjustment.

8. Stay True to Yourself

Above all, remember that fashion is a form of self-expression. While trends can be fun to explore, staying true to your personal style is what truly makes you shine. Choose pieces that resonate with your personality and make you feel confident. If something doesn’t feel right, don’t feel obligated to wear it just because it’s in style.

Conclusion

Shopping at Chic Hot Club is an opportunity to embrace your style and discover new fashion possibilities. By understanding your body type, creating a style inspiration board, and experimenting with trends, you can curate a wardrobe that reflects your individuality. Remember, fashion should be fun and empowering—so enjoy the process, and let your unique style shine through! Happy shopping!