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faunusrights · 4 years ago

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Citrus Summers (GWS AU)

just had this idea nip into my head... i really wanna do more with menagerie and the scarlatina fam but for now have this lil snapshot of velvet growing up :)

great weiss shark au, weiss's pronouns are she/her, velvet's pronouns are she/they

###

"So, what was your hometown like?"

Velvet's used to Weiss's interest in her life; they come from two radically different ends of some bonkers spectrum of lifestyles, where one end (Velvet's) is radical self-acceptance, anti-cop sentiment, and a Scroll full to bursting with communist memes, whilst the other end (Weiss's) is... well, to be honest, Velvet doesn't like to think about what that end entails, exactly. All she knows is that it was exactly what a young shark Faunus without any clue as to her heritage didn't need. So, Velvet entertains her with stories of growing up in the deserts of Menagerie, of her time running along the trash-strewn beaches of Kuo Kuana, of her years shooting up like a weed under the relentless freckling kisses of the bright and vibrant sun.

Sometimes Velvet can tell she can't quite wrap her head around how different their lives are, yet have somehow ended up on such an intersection as to be able to call each other friends. Velvet just goes with the flow about it all.

"Well, we didn't have a hometown, really," Velvet starts, attention half-drawn to sets of plans scattered about her desk in her dorm. She's got big plans to improve Anesidora's projector and fix the information compression problems; drawing a flat 2D image into a 3D projection has always been a sticking point, but she's nearly got it down to the extent that her wireframe tests very nearly reveal the dents and dings and imperfections that it'd previously ironed out by mistake. Accuracy is key, and she crawls ever closer to a perfect 1-to-1 copy each and every day. It's just really boring work, is all. "We lived outside of the nearest town by a couple of miles, but we went there pretty regularly, so I guess you could call it that."

Weiss hums, letting herself fall back onto Velvet's unmade bed, the handwoven blankets of orange and black brought straight over from the homeland and still gritty with red dirt to prove it. "What's it called?"

"Desert Sands. Very original, I know."

"You know a lot of the people there?"

"Shit, they trade us meat and gas for potatoes and carrots and tomatoes, not to mention almost everyone there immigrated in a group with my grandparents. I know that town like my own family."

"What's your favourite thing there?"

That pulls Velvet up short, and she worries at her bottom lip as she stares as a variety of absolutely godawful equations. Thank the maidens Weiss has given her something meaty to say, because she can't bear the idea of redoing all this horrible maths. "Uh, probably the inn, as everyone else who lives there would say. Can't go wrong with a good old fashioned pint and a few rounds of pool."

"Even as a kid?" Weiss says, and Velvet can hear the raised brow even though she can't quite see it.

"Even as a kid," Velvet agrees. "My mam had a couple of pints and my da flirted with the guys and I'd go out with my siblings to meet our friends and raise a little hell. Not very often, but often enough."

Weiss goes sort of quiet, in a way that Velvet recognises as an intensive processing of what she's just heard. She wonders, briefly, if Weiss can even imagine that sort of freedom after a childhood spent locked in the same old rooms of the same old house--even when it's as big as the Schnee manor--and then pushes that thought away. If Weiss wants to ever get into all that, it'll be in her own time.

"Describe it to me?" Weiss asks in a very little voice after a few seconds, and Velvet nods. She can do that. She remembers those halcyon days like they were yesterday.

###

"Trench, I swear, if you don't repaint those window sills I'm gonna sneak down here and do it myself, asshole."

This was about as typical an entry as Taffeta Scarlatina could ever make, shouldering open the dark wood door into the Desert Sands Inn with a grin on her face and children in tow, Ash bringing up the rear and trying to pretend he couldn't see everyone turn in their seats to look to the new arrivals. It was one of those establishments with a big boxy interior and just a handful of rooms to the side, where the only three doors led into the toilets and the kitchens and the stairwell to the rooms above, and much like everything else on Menagerie, nothing ever matched; the doors had been collected from a variety of sources, the floorboards uneven and scratched and recut, the paint on the walls patchy with mismatched shades and covered with picture frames in some last-ditch attempt to hide it. No two stools matched, no three tables carved by the same hand, but that was the price of the community effort--everything you ever needed, maybe just not in the way you always expected.

"Taffeta," Trench greeted from behind the bar, turning to fetch a pair of glasses without prompting whilst making sure not to jostle the hanging bottles overhead with his great buffalo horns, split like a strange middle parting on the top of his head. "You're welcome to it, to be frank; Cinna doesn't have a clue where she's put the paint, last we saw it."

Taffeta rolled her eyes, letting go of Velvet's hand to pat her between her ears instead, the ten year old quick to laugh and duck away. "I'm sure. Not at all like I said I have some lying around the last three times I was here. You really that scared of scraping all that flaking paint off?"

"Well," Trench said after a moment, leaning under the bar for a second. "I did get some in my eyes last time, and boy, that hurted. You want your usual?"

"Pint of porter for me, and something weak for my pretty boy, lest he forget which way is up," Taffeta agreed, shooting a wink Ash's way and cackling when he blushed. "And some juice boxes for the kids?"

Trench didn't even pause, turning about to fish out a variety of colourful cartons adorned with a collection of cartoon characters, and Taffeta lifted Velvet up to plop her onto one of the few cushioned stools, Chiffon quick to use her older, longer limbs to scramble her own way up. Trench offered the drinks out freely, letting them decide between orange and passionfruit flavours, before noticing the new addition on Ash's hip. "Oh? This the newest Scarlatina?"

Satin--hardly a year old--was clinging to her da's loose shirt, dark eyes looking about in wonder, and Taffeta smiled before reaching over to brush her loose, light hair out of her eyeline. "Sure is. Gettin' real big already, so we thought it was high time to meet the folks around here. She won't be the last, though." At that, Taffeta leant across the bar, dropping her voice low. "Would you believe me if I said Ash is already askin' for the next one?"

"Slander," Ash shot back, face still pink. "I just said four is a rounder number than three."

Trench made a face, glancing pointedly away. "My girl woulda mounted my horns on the wall for that one. We had just the one and she swore off the rest before I could even consider it. Count yourself lucky."

"Cinnamon's a good kid," Ash offered, rearranging Satin to sit a little nicer in his lap. "I think that all worked out in the end."

Taffeta rolled her eyes, watching as Velvet picked the orange juice for herself, leaving the eldest to the passionfruit. "Doesn't that imply we have so many 'cause you don't think just one was good enough? Chiff's a darling, if a bit of a pain in my ass, huh, baby?"

Chiffon ignored them both to instead help Velvet punch the straw into the carton, and Ash grinned. "Just one was perfect, but you told me yourself that you don't think I know when to fold."

"You don't," Trench interjected, pouring out a pint of something dark and bitter enough to linger on the tongue. "When we played poker last year... phew. Thank the maidens it was a couple's night, else you woulda been walking home absolutely stark--"

"--drunk," Taffeta quickly interrupted, glancing towards the kids who stared back with wide eyes. "Been walking home absolutely stark... trashed. Wasted. Uh, Trench, what's on the menu today, whilst it's on my mind?"

As they discussed the menu (Taffeta eager to point out the contributions of the family crops, asking, overly sweetly, and who traded you those lovely chickens? they must have been very generous), Chiffon turned to Ash in her seat, legs swinging freely, bumping into the overly-varnished wood of the bar. "Da? Can me 'n Velv go out and play?"

"Sure can, kiddo," Ash said, though he was quick to grab Chiffon's arm before she could throw herself off the stool with the straw still in her mouth. "Woah, take that out first before you end up swallowing it. You remember the rules?"

Chiffon nodded, face cast all seriously. "Don't go outta town. Be back before dark. If someone tries to bully us, punch 'em in the nose."

"And?" Ash added, drawing his brows together.

Velvet chirped up. "Cops aren't friends!"

At that, Ash broke out into a grin, as bright as Velvet's and twice as toothy. "That's right. You go have fun, and don't eat too many snacks; we're having dinner here before we go home."

Chiffon slid free of her stool, turning about to help Velvet down too, and then the pair scampered towards the door with a harmonised yes da! before pulling it open to the main road outside, the sunlight blisteringly bright, the sky an endless, cloudless blue overhead. The paint on the windowsill peeled off and flecked away, and under their shoes, the ground crunched.

Everything tasted of oranges.

###

Weiss sits silently.

"Did you get back before dark?"

Velvet snorts, sitting back in her chair until it creaks dangerously below. "Just about, though my mam didn't look all that impressed. Still, can't do much about it; we didn't even have, like, landline calls back then, let alone Scrolls and shit."

Weiss laughs to herself, rolling over and tucking her legs up onto Velvet's bed until she's curled atop the blankets, running a thumb over the wool quietly, repetitively. Truth is, they still smell of Menagerie, of home; Velvet could wash it a thousand times, but the earthy scent of hot summers and prickling scrublands sticks like its own aura.

"I'm jealous," Weiss says simply, and then she draws the blankets up to partly cocoon herself, tight across the ribs, loose about the ankles. "Will I... would you show me it, sometime? If I went there?"

It's sweet. Velvet wishes she could travel through time and show it to Weiss from the start; she wishes she could have told her what she would have, in the future. Look, see? This is real. You can have this too. Happiness doesn't only exist for people far away; you get to feel this, too.

"Of course," Velvet says with a smile, instead. "Bold if you to think my parents don't demand they meet every single last one of my friends."

Weiss grins back, all shark-toothed and sharp, and Velvet likes how it looks on her face. It took her team months to eek it out of her more often than every couple of weeks, but now, it's practically daily. "I'm afraid the offer doesn't extend back to you."

"Thanks the maidens," Velvet says, very seriously. "Because if I ever meet your dad, I'm setting his car alight."

#rwby #weiss schnee #velvet scarlatina #gws au #great weiss shark #its one of those tags #my writing #just a lil thing #(taffeta paints the windows as payment for the beer)

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years ago

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Good Omens - “An Enchanted Gift” (Rated NC17)

Summary: Anathema gives Aziraphale and Crowley a special gift - a homemade bottle of a holiday drink with some very peculiar side effects. (2299 words)

Notes: Written for the wonderful @theantichristmaszine :) Warning for sexual content.

Read on AO3.

Crowley’s flat is positively a picture, fit for printing on a Christmas card.

Fire roaring on the hearth.

Garland and tinsel draped over anything that doesn’t move.

Fairy lights brightening the dark corners, wound around the rubber tree and the Chinese Evergreen, weeding through the leaves of the dieffenbachia.

A host of red velvet, gold taffeta, and white satin ribbon hanging from the ceiling till no white marble can be seen.

And at the center of it all, a tree - an honest-to-Satan floor-to-ceiling pine that Crowley had tromped into the forest and tore out of the ground himself with his own two hands. An ax would have been simpler. Heck, he could have snapped the thing back to his flat, trimmed and mounted, ready for decorating. But his method seemed so much more festive considering he’d been bellowing holiday carols the entire time.

He let angel take the lead decorating. Aziraphale had a merry time covering the thing in frosted globes, glass candy canes (since the real ones didn’t last long enough to hang), gingerbread men (only slightly nibbled), reindeer, clove oranges, crocheted white-lace snowflakes, and other ornaments of the like, purchased from artisans all around London.

Crowley had gone so far as to include a manger scene for the benefit of his angel-in-residence. However, instead of hanging the Archangel Gabriel using the provided hook, he hung him over the birthplace of the Lord by a noose. Aziraphale giggled when he saw it but recommended fixing it - to ward off bad karma or something along those lines. Not wanting to sully his spirits listening to a lecture about tempting fate (which is all Crowley does), Crowley remedied it.

He replaced Gabriel with a vintage Troll doll key chain Pepper accidentally forgot at Aziraphale’s bookshop.

“There! Top notch replacement, if I do say so meself! Looks just like ‘im!” Crowley declared, gesturing to the absurd trinket with its vibrant purple hair.

“And which part, might I ask, looks just like him?” Aziraphale had asked.

“The head! It’s huge!”

Demons aren’t much for celebrating. But this year, with everything Crowley had to be grateful for, he honestly couldn’t help himself. At its root, Christmas is about love.

Family.

Birth.

A chance to shed the skin of past sins and start anew.

This year, Crowley couldn’t see letting Christmas pass unacknowledged.

“You know, I may not be a connoisseur of holiday shindigs,” Crowley says, leaning back on the floor and gazing up at the spectacle that is their cheerfully burdened tree, “but I would say tonight has come pretty close to perfect. Wouldn’t you?” He rolls onto his hip, beaming at Aziraphale seated not too far from him, a loopy grin nudging his mouth up at the corners.

“Indeed.” Aziraphale lifts his bottle of Burgundy, prepared to propose a toast. It comes up off the floor far too quickly, an indicator the thing has been drained dry.

“Looks like we finished that one.” Crowley looks left and right in search of another, but doesn’t see one. “Augh! Don’t tell me we went through them all! I’m sure I had another three at least!”

“Don’t fret, my dear,” Aziraphale says. “I may have just the thing.” He crawls over to the tree on hands and knees and rummages underneath. A second later he crawls back out, accompanied by a rustic-looking green glass bottle and a triumphant little, ‘A-ha!’ “This comes courtesy of dear, sweet Anathema.” He presents the bottle to his demon for approval. “She said she made it with love.”

“Really?” Crowley snorts while Aziraphale uncorks the bottle. “And what ingredient is that then? Wolfsbane? Mandrake root?”

“Honey, I think.” Aziraphale gives the mouth of the bottle a sniff. “Maybe blackberries?”

“The important question is - is it alcohol?”

Aziraphale brings the bottle to his lips and knocks back a gulp, coughing at the finish. “That it is.”

“Give it here then. I’d like to partake of some love, too.” Crowley indulges, tilting his head back and taking a huge swig. He smacks his tongue, then licks his lips, shivering when a wave of heat enters his bloodstream and works its way down his spine. “Wow. That’s tasty.”

“Isn’t it? If being a witch doesn’t work out for her, she should definitely take up a career distilling.”

“Love, you say?” Crowley peers into the bottle, pondering the ingredients as the drink settles onto his taste buds. “Do you think that’s something she orders by the pound, or gathers under the full moon?”

“To be honest, I have no idea---oof!” Aziraphale sways, planting a hand flat on the floor and locking his elbow to keep from toppling over.

“You alright, angel?” Crowley snickers. “Having a bit of trouble holding your drink?” His forehead wrinkles with concern when Aziraphale doesn’t recover right away. “That’s not normally like you---”

Crowley’s teasing cuts off when Aziraphale’s mouth crashes into his - hot, demanding, tasting of mulling spices, apples, sour plum, and brandy. It takes Crowley a moment to realize Aziraphale is kissing him.

Then another for him to start kissing back.

This isn’t just any kiss. It’s the kiss he’s been longing for. The kiss he’d feel on his lips every time Aziraphale looked his way and smiled. It’s the kiss he thought about the century he slept. And even though there have been many kisses between them, Crowley ranks this as the first.

Because it’s the kiss of dreams.

Aziraphale inhales sharply and backs away. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, my dear! I don’t know what came over me!”

Crowley looks him over curiously, waiting for an explanation, but Aziraphale doesn’t seem to have one. Aziraphale loves kissing, but he doesn’t go about it this way - doesn’t rush in, doesn’t take what he hasn’t asked for. “Turn about’s fair play, I’d wager.”

“What do you …?”

Without another word, Crowley sneaks a hand behind Aziraphale’s head and kisses him back.

Another kiss follows. Then another. With each one, the room becomes inhospitable - too warm, too stuffy, too difficult to stay in wearing all their blasted clothes! Aziraphale tries to relieve the pressure at his neck, but he can’t seem to manage his buttons, so Crowley helps him undo those. Likewise Crowley’s zipper becomes uncooperative, so Aziraphale tasks himself with unzipping it. Article by article they tear through until the two become too frustrated to care about the inevitable paperwork and snap off the rest.

Crowley kneels behind his angel, completely naked, kissing every spot he can get his lips on. And God, how it tingles! No. How it burns - each touch of his lips to Aziraphale’s flesh sending surges of razor sharp and magma hot straight from Crowley’s mouth to his groin.

And he wants more.

He wants it everywhere.

He wants it scalding his throat, searing his lungs, consuming him from the inside out. Let it dissolve him into ashes that blow away on the wind, let him die in an orgasm of violence and fire and angelic light.

As long as it comes with Aziraphale.

What a way to go.

“I have to have you, angel,” he moans. “Now. Right now.”

“Are you … are you sure? We’ve always said that we wouldn’t allow alcohol to make us amorous.”

“I don’t feel drunk. Do you?”

Aziraphale focuses inward, taking stock of his corporation. “No,” he says, surprised considering the bottles of wine they’d polished off before they started in on Anathema’s gift. “I don’t. Not at all.” Aziraphale locates an empty bottle and concentrates, tries to push the alcohol of the night from his system, but nothing appears. Not a single drop. “Far from it, it would seem.”

“That’s right. We’re not drunk. We’re completely in our right minds.”

“I wouldn’t say …”

“I want this, angel!” Crowley pleads with a sense of urgency. “Don’t you?”

“Yes, I do. More than ever,” Aziraphale admits.

“What do you want me to do?” Crowley whispers, voice husky with a lust he has inspired in others but has never once felt himself. “Tell me.”

“Make love to me?”

“How?”

Aziraphale peeks over his shoulder, grinning at his demon chomping at the bit. “You seem to be in the perfect position. I suggest you start there.”

Aziraphale expects Crowley to mock his snark, but he doesn’t, diving immediately back into the task of kissing across Aziraphale’s shoulders, lingering over the joint where his wings would connect if he let them out. Crowley swirls over it with his tongue, painting overlapping circles, and Aziraphale sees stars. They’ve made love in this position before, and Crowley has kissed every inch of his back, but he’s never spent so much time on this particular area.

The decadence of this sensation should be criminal.

Aziraphale feels Crowley’s hands on his body everywhere at once - massaging his muscles, fondling his cock, scissoring him open. Could Crowley be using magic to pleasure him? That’s not something they’ve ever done before due to the implications of Hell finding out. But seeing as Hell is no longer a concern, that puts every card at their disposal.

And thank God because this they need to do again!

“Aziraphale,” Crowley utters as he enters him, his angel’s name like sugar in his bitter mouth, and fuck!

There it is.

When he enters him completely.

The fire.

Inside his angel.

And Crowley has become its fuel.

“Oh, Crowley …” Aziraphale shifts his weight onto his palms and leans forward, raising his rear in the air. “Oh, yes. Just like that, my dear …”

“Like this, angel?” Crowley pulls back, then thrusts hard - harder than he would normally, sending Aziraphale swiftly to the verge. With Aziraphale’s grunts of ecstasy mirroring the rhythm of Crowley’s hips, Crowley knows that regardless of anything, this he cannot stop.

It would be unforgivable.

“Yes!” Aziraphale whimpers, bracing against the marble floor with knuckles white. “Yes! Crowley, yes!”

“Yes …” Crowley echoes beneath his breath, a lightness settling inside his mind, siphoning his ability to think. He’s done too much thinking already. Now is not the time for thinking. Now is the time for serving. The time for feeling. And what he feels is soft beneath his hands, tight around his cock, a quest for satisfaction, for completion, wrapped in a braided rope of love, love, and more love. So much love it fills his flat from corner to ceiling, leaves its mark on the walls and on the doors.

And on the marble beneath them when Aziraphale, spiraling out of control, comes unannounced on Crowley’s living room floor.

“Oh,” he squeaks with embarrassment though he knows Crowley would say he shouldn’t be. “I apologize, my love, but I seem to have sullied your floor.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Crowley says, snapping his fingers and cleaning the mess as he shudders through his own orgasm, which had snuck up inside him and granted him release less like an accomplishment and more like a reward for what he had done for his angel.

“Well,” Aziraphale manages even though he’s breathless, which isn’t a bother for him. “That was … interesting.”

“Just interesting?”

Aziraphale blushes. “More than interesting. But I would hate to think that was all because of the drink.”

“I wouldn’t say it was. I think the brew just sort of lowered out inhibitions. Enhanced the experience.”

“Do you think that was meant to happen? I find it difficult to believe that Anathema of all people gave us some sort of love potion as a Christmas present.”

“Not sure. Could be a side-effect of being witch made. Probably affects us more because we’re occult.”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue Crowley’s word usage. “Or … what if it’s something worse?”

“Worse?” Crowley arches an eyebrow. “What worse?”

“What if it did what it was meant to, but it was supposed to be a present for her young gentleman?”

“Ugh! Aziraphale! Don’t!” Crowley groans, wrapping his arms around his angel and holding him tight. “You’re going to put me off!”

“Sorry,” Aziraphale chuckles, hugging Crowley’s arms about his waist. Locked in the cozy cocoon of Crowley’s embrace, a thought pricks Aziraphale’s brain.

There is a secret third possibility.

A week or two ago, Aziraphale went to Tracy Shadwell’s place for tea and rum cake. While he was there, he’d confided in both Tracy and Anathema that as much as he loved his sex life with his husband, physical intimacy had become somewhat of a chore. Not because he didn’t love it, which he did, but because Crowley seemed stuck on every love making session between them being more romantic than the last. First came the champagne, then the candlelight (so much candlelight …), massages with complicated names, and, as of late, dramatic musical choices. It’s nice, the care Crowley puts into being his lover, but it also puts a tremendous amount of pressure on Aziraphale to keep up appearances.

Makes the whole ordeal feel like a performance.

Some nights, by the time they get to the good stuff, Aziraphale is ready to hit the hay. Seeing as he despises sleep, that’s awfully telling.

Aziraphale has come to the conclusion that, often times, he’s just … how did the youths say it … down to fuck.

So this drink may have done exactly what it was meant to, and he and Crowley may have rightfully been its intended targets.

But Aziraphale isn’t about to tell Crowley that.

“What should we do now? Should we lock it away or …?”

“Seems to me there’s only one thing we can do …” Crowley looks the bottle over, gauging the level of the liquid still inside. He grins, the firelight flickering in his eyes, making him look more wicked than Aziraphale has seen him in decades.

And he takes a hefty swallow.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #ineffable lovers #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #Crowley

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lesbian-percy-weasley · 4 years ago

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The Bleachers At Prom By Gay-Natasha-Saves-The-World on Ao3 (aka your one and only)

Fandom: Rainbow High

Ship: Stella/Poppy (Monrowan if you will)

Content warning: none

Summary: Stella had huge expectations for her first prom at Rainbow High. When it doesn’t go to plan, at least she made a new friend

Stella was excited about Prom. This would be her first-ever official school dance. Sure there was the prefect party at the beginning of the year and her parents through a few formal dances but prom felt different. She’s been counting down the days.

Her mom had bought her a gorgeous bright pink taffeta dress from Paris. It was so flowing and looked beautiful. It got to America about 2 weeks before the prom and she spent almost all her free time looking at it. It was a show stopper worthy of rainbow high prom.

But the look wouldn’t be complete without great hair and makeup. She would of course have no problem with that. Her roommates also asked her to do theirs too. That just came with the territory of being with the cosmetology student in the dorm. She didn’t mind at all.

It was almost time for prom and she was busy doing Karma’s eyeshadow. A bright chartreuse color that matched her heavily sequined dress.

“Prom is going to be so great,” Stella exclaimed while brushing the eyeshadow on. “I’m just excited to show off my dress. I guess dancing would be kinda fun too.” Karma replied trying not to move her face too much. “Violet is gonna flip when she sees it. We all know who’s gonna win this Instagram battle.” Emma butted in while her hair was curling her hair.

“I wonder if it’s gonna be like in the movies. I know nothing ever is like it is in the movies but we do go to a prestigious private school so you never know.” Stella rambled as she applied the eyeliner. Her roommates realized she was super excited about this so they didn’t comment on it.

“Who are you guys gonna dance with? I’m gonna see if River wants to dance with me.” Emma said distractedly. “Fat chance, Emma. He’s going out with Amaya now.” Karma laughed a bit still trying not to move her face. “It’s not confirmed!” Emma cried back. Stella started to laugh a bit at them.

Soon enough it was 7 pm. Time for the prom to start. Stella was bouncing on the balls of her feet while they were waiting in line. Her excitement was growing harder for her to contain. As they got to the front of the line, she almost yelped in happiness.

The gym was more beautiful than she imagined. The lighting was changing color but was so soft one wouldn’t even notice unless they were paying attention. The shiny wall decorations were absolutely mesmerizing. They must have done this as a project for the set design class. Whatever happened to get this done, Stella was happy it did.

She looked around to see other people she knew. She saw the A’s hanging out together against one of the walls. Kia and Krystal were hanging out not very far from them. She saw Jade and Bella talking together and dancing in the middle of the dancefloor. Stella smiled at the couple. She saw River talking with Amaya. She giggled a little about it because of the earlier discussion that was had in the dorms. Poor Emma.

She looked around but didn’t see anyone she could hang out with. That was something she admittedly didn’t think about. Karma and Emma were nowhere to be found. Great, what was she gonna do now?

She was floundering around by the wall until a slow song came on. Everyone was partnering up but she didn’t have anyone to dance with. The bleachers were the only option she seemed to have.

She sat there for a while after the song ended. A few more people were sitting down there. Wasn’t someone supposed to come and dance with her? Didn’t people do that in the movies? This wasn’t going the way she planned it at all. Frustration was starting to creep in. School dances weren’t as fun as she thought they would be.

She was debating just leaving when someone sat next to her. She looked over to see a girl in a gorgeous orange dress. It was a biased-cut silk-like one from a 30s movie. It had black detailing on the neckline but besides that, it was very simplistic. Her bright orange hair was in a half up half down style. The other girl must have noticed her staring.

“Hi.” Stella was caught off guard. “Oh, Umm, Hi,” she replied. “I’m Poppy, by the way.” She introduced herself. “I’m Stella.”

There was some awkward silence for a couple of moments. Well, it wasn’t exactly silence, the music was still blasting but neither of them was talking and it was indeed, awkward. It was another minute until Poppy finally said something else.

“Are you having any fun right now?”

“Not really, if I’m being honest. It’s nothing like what I expected.” Stella explained.

Poppy nodded at this and sighed. “This party blows. Do you want to just leave with me?” Stella contemplated for a second. She didn’t want to just leave her friends but she really wasn’t keen on sitting on the bench all night.

She nodded and got up to follow Poppy out of the gym.

They walked around the school for a while. It was practically abandoned beside them and a few other people. It wasn’t how she imagined the night would go but it was better than sitting on the bench in the gym for the rest of the night.

“I like your dress, by the way. It’s super cute.” Poppy said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “Oh, thanks. My mom bought it for me from Paris.” Stella replied with a smile, giving Poppy a little spin to show how it moved. “I liked yours too.”

“Oh, really? My friend Skylar made it for me last minute.” Poppy shrugged. “Well, she did a good job. It fits you very nicely.” She blushed a little at the compliment. They continued walking and talking a lot about nothing.

They found themselves at the main staircase and decided to sit down for a while. Poppy already took her heels off because her feet were absolutely killing her. Stella wore more sensible ballet flats. But she wasn’t against sitting down with Poppy.

“So why were you sitting at the bench at prom?” Poppy asked Stella with a sigh. “I just didn’t have anyone to dance with and my friends all went to do their own thing. Why were you?”

“I was just getting overwhelmed with the music and the crowd and everything you know?” Poppy explained. “It’s different when I’m DJing but they decided to give the gig to an upperclassman.”

“Wait a minute, you DJed the prefect party didn’t you?” Poppy nodded. “That party was way better than the prom.” Stella sighed. “I guess I just expected more from prom.”

“Yeah, I get that. TV shows and movies and stuff make it seem grander than it actually is.” Poppy nodded and looked at her phone. “It’s almost 11:30 so the dance should be dying down now.” She started putting her heels back on.

They started the trek back to the gym. It was a mostly quiet walk since they were both tired. Once they reached the gym they realized that the DJ was playing a slow song. Maybe the last one of the night.

“You know the worst part of tonight is that I never got to dance with someone.” Stella stared at her feet. “I didn’t know what I was expecting. I didn’t even have a date.”

“We could dance together if you want to.” Poppy suggested. Stella was a bit surprised by this. “I mean like as friends, you know. I’m not assuming you like me or even that you like girls…”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll dance with you.” Stella replied. Poppy nodded and took Stella’s hands. It wasn’t a proper ballroom dance like Stella was used to. It was the typical high school slow dance and it felt more personal. There was no messing up steps and worrying about timing. It was just her and Poppy swaying together to the muffled sound of a slow song.

When it ended they both took a second to breathe. Looking into each other's eyes, they both started to feel something.

“By the way,” Stella started, “I do like girls.” She leaned forward and kissed Poppy’s cheek.

This naturally caused Poppy to blush a shade of bright red which caused Stella to giggle a little.

Soon enough everyone was starting to file out of the gym. The two girls found their respective friend groups and headed back to their dorm rooms.

Karma and Emma were laughing about something that happened during the dance. Stella didn’t really understand what they were talking about but she gathered it had something to do with Colin and the punchbowl. She didn’t really care to know more.

She got ready for bed still smiling. Thinking about her new friend, perhaps even more than that. While her night didn’t go as planned, it was still the magical night she thought she would have.

#stella monroe #poppy rowan #monrowan #fanfic #wlw #fluff #prom #awkward conversations #slow dancing #ditching prom #walking around school #rainbow high #rainbow high fanfiction

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incorrectunrulyprincesses · 3 years ago

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Underland’s Unruly Princesses: Boarding School Dropouts (chapter 3)

“Princess Emberess will be sleeping in the redhead room. It’s the first door in there.” said Madame Graciella. “Your luggage has been brought any moment.” She opened the door to reveal a grey room with six twin beds with gilded wood headboards, and grey bedding, and a wooden chest at the foot of each bed. The windows were boarded shut with nails and there a gilded grandfather clock stood in the corner. There were four other girls sitting on beds.

The girl sitting on the bed closest to the door was a tiny little thing who couldn’t be more than four. She had a twelve inch fishtail braid in a fiery red hue, though slightly less vivid than Ember’s own. Her left eye was blue, and her right eye was green. She had a dusting of freckles across her nose, and wore a rosy pink velvet dress trimmed with flowers and bows with a silver pendant with a teardrop shaped rose quartz, and a large pink bow in her hair, tying off her braid.

On the second bed was a tall and willowy girl of eleven with a rather vacant expression caribbean blue eyes and short ginger hair that grazed her shoulders, clad in an orange taffeta gown with a silk honeysuckle pinned to her bodice, citrine stud earrings, and a black headband.

Next to her was a tall, thin, brittle looking girl of ten with eyes so brown they were nearly black and coppery curls piled elaborately atop her head. She wore a cyan silk gown with delicate sea green embroidery, a pearl choker with a jade cameo, and two peacock feathers in her hair.

Beside her was a kind looking girl who looked to be about ten with periwinkle eyes and hair in loose ringlets the color of new bronze flowing down her back. She wore a turquoise satin gown with intricate gold damask embroidery and hot pink tulle trim and cuffs and hot pink gems adorning it, a necklace with a gold braided chain and teardrop shaped gems, and a sea green ribbon woven into a waterfall braid among her wavy hair.

The final girl in the bed next to Ember’s was a short, chubby girl of ten with ocean blue eyes, and frizzy hair somewhere between strawberry blonde and auburn worn half up, half down. She wore an airy butter yellow silk a-line gown with blush, peach, and tangerine daisies embroidered on it, a magenta belt, a three-strand necklace of pink diamonds on a silver chain and a white daisy pinned in her hair.

“Ladies, I’ve brought a new friend for you. Meet Princess Emberess of Crims. Your highness, may I present your new roommates Lady Marie-Christine D’Aubigne of Voyagea, Lady Portia of Snudworth, Lady Suzette Atkinson of Ruby, Lady Kathleen Carter of Crimson, and Lady Francesca Lambert of Scarlet. Report to the dining room for lunch and your manners lesson with Mistress Emanuelle in ten minutes. Your highness, I must go to escort your sister to the blonde room, two doors down.” announced Madame Graciella, escorting Rosalind out by one arm.

“But madame, my mother told me I was to stay with my sister! I promised our mother to look out for her!” Ember protested, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.

“Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of her. She’s only two doors down.” Madame Graciella reassured. “Ladies, why don’t you get better acquainted with the princess, while you get ready?” Madame Graciella was much nicer than her sister, but she was incredibly intimidated by her.

“Are you really the princess?” asked little Marie-Christine, an awestruck look in her eyes.

“I am. My friends call me Ember, at least they would if they had any friends.” Ember smiled. This little girl reminded her of Ros.

“I’m Marie-Christine, but you can call me Chrissie.” said Marie-Christine.

“How old are you?” asked Ember.

“I’m four. I’m the youngest in the school by seven minutes. My twin sister Marie-Anne is in the blonde room with your sister. This is our first year. But our older sisters Marie-Louise and Marie-Therese are in the brunette room between us.

“If your sister’s in the blonde room, she’d better watch her back.” Suzette Atkinson piped up.

“You might be princesses, but the real queen around here is Cressida Cowper, and she’s there too. She eats new girls for lunch.”

“Cressida is my best friend.” Portia Keen mused in a deadpan voice, her nose to the sky. “You’re all just jealous of her beauty and brains!”

“Cressida and Portia share a brain. That and they’re both from Snud, and knew each other before coming here.” Suzette spat.

“Sukey, I’m sure Ember’s sister can handle herself.” rationalized Kathleen Carter. “I mean Cressida’s awful, but the other girls are all really cool.” she held her hand out for Ember to shake. “I’m Kitty. Your sister will be okay, Cressida’s horrid, but the other girls are all nice. Besides, Chrissie isn’t the only one with a sister there. My sister Lacey will be there too, and she’ll look out for your sister. How old is your sister?”

“She’s seven. Our mother just stopped breastfeeding her.” Ember accepted Kitty’s hand.

“Why would she do it herself? That’s what we have wetnurses for!” asked a bewildered Portia.

“Shut up, Portia.” snapped Sukey, glowering at the ditzy girl. “But seriously, your mother stopped at seven?”

”Mum’s always cosseted Ros up like a baby. We’ve had a pretty isolated upbringing with no friends our age. Mum always said we were lucky to have each other. My sister’s an incredibly vulnerable person. She’s never left the castle grounds until two days ago when we left for school. She cried herself to sleep at the inn, and I had to calm her down because her father’s a deadbeat who’s ignored her her whole life, but Mum’s utterly enamored with him.”

“That’s rotten.” Francesca Lambert narrowed her eyes.

“So you have no friends your own age?” Asked Kitty.

“Unfortunately not. Nobody at court but my mother has children.”

“Our parents may not live at court, but some of us are in your mother’s house of progress. My older brother Stefan is the knave’s squire. Harriet Lennox from the Brunette room, her father is Count Marcus of Odyssey, your mother’s master of coin. There’s three other girls in the brunette room who are high up in your mother’s queensguard. Chrissie’s father Baron Leonard of Voyagea is her master of spies. Some of us are in your aunt’s court or house of progress as well.”

“Cressida’s grandfather is Queen Mirana’s master of justice.” Portia chimed in. “Her father’s lord commander of her queensguard. My brothers are in her queensguard too. My mother and Queen Mirana are close, personal friends.”

“Stop calling my aunt ‘Queen Mirana!’” Snapped Ember. “She hasn’t been queen for nine years. As far as I’m concerned, the only queen I recognize is my mother!”

“Portia didn’t mean any harm.” Kitty said, stepping between the two girls. “She just parrots what her mother, Cressida’s mother and Cressida say.”

“That’s because Portia has a single digit IQ. She needs Cressida to do all the thinking for her.” Sukey snarked. Francesca giggled at Sukey’s blunt remark.

“That’s right! Wait, what were we talking about?” Portia inquired.

“We ought to go down for lunch with the others. Maybe you can snag a seat next to your sister.” Francesca suggested helpfully.

“And maybe you won’t hog all the rolls this time, Fanny. They’ll go right to your hips.” Portia jeered.

“Shut up Portia!” Fanny, Kitty, and Sukey shouted in unison. Maybe it wasn’t going to be so bad here after all. Most of the girls seemed really nice, with the exception of Portia, but she obviously wasn’t smart enough to do any real harm. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder how her baby sister was faring in the blonde room.

#fanfiction #boarding school dropouts #the redhead room #Madame Graciella #princess emberess #Marie-Christine D’Aubigne #Portia Keen #Sukey Atkinson #Kitty Carter #Fanny Lambert #alice in wonderland #alice through the looking glass #Harlots #barbie princess charm school

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shesclearlya3 · 5 years ago

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Dancing With a Stranger P.2

@iits-mikha asked: n a recent interview they asked Cody if he could have the opportunity to play another character he would had chosen to be the Countess, So my request is this: an AU where old!Michael where he’s not the antichrist but is the owner of the Hotel Cortez, please!!

pairing: Older!Michael x Reader

word count: 5,055

warnings: au!, language, seductive-boi, unprotected sex, oral (female and male receiving), other smutty goodness. idk how i thought i’d keep this smut free, yikes. i hardly write smut so i hope it’s not too terrible, enjoy.

*not entirely proof-read*

part 1

The next few days were a blur.

You and Winter spent the days at the park, getting scared and meeting your favorite characters. You changed your phone wallpaper to a picture of you and Beetlejuice, your cheesy grin making you flinch every time you unlocked your phone. Yet, you were living your best life, and it was a much-needed break from reality.

As the hours of screams and thrill rides went by, Michael Langdon slowly slipped in the back of your mind.

It wasn't until there was a knock on your hotel door bright in early on Halloween. Winter groaned from beside you, her small body cuddling into yours when you tried to leave.

"It's fucking cold, stop," Winter moaned.

"Someone is here, Winter," you groaned, throwing the covers from your body when they knocked again. Your M&M socks were slipping off your feet as you opened the door, revealing Iris.

"Good morning!" she gushed, her voice way too peppy for this time of day. You blinked at her, knowing you looked like hell with your band t-shirt, dull sweats, and orange socks.

"Is everything alright?" you immediately asked, crossing your arms over your chest. It really is cold in here. You could feel your nipples getting hard, and you tried to hide your laugh.

"Mr. Langdon asked me to drop this off," she said, shoving a white envelope in your direction. You took it, feeling the thickness and frowning. "He says it's a treat."

"What?-"

"Have a good day!" she insisted, before leaving you standing in the doorway.

You stood there with a comical look on your face, before quietly shutting the door and locking it. Winter had since sat up, her brown eyes frowning at you as you carefully opened the envelope.

A white slip of paper caught your eye first, before the thick wad of cash behind it. You gasped, pulling it out altogether.

"HOLY SHIT!" Winter said, shoving the blankets off her before scrambling to stand beside you. You counted the money; there was quickly a few thousand in your hands.

"I KNOW-" you gasped. You had never seen this much money in your life, at least in person. "He left a note..."

"Read it," Winter urged, taking the money and feeling it up, "This is hot in a really bizarre way."

Ms. l/n,

Please take this offering to buy yourself some new clothes, preferably for dinner tonight. I took the liberty of ordering food from a nearby restaurant. I do not believe you'd find the menu here satisfactory, trust me.

Meet me at the penthouse at 8 PM sharp. This is very important, not a minute before or less. You may find some less than impressive guests if you do.

Oh, I almost forgot - you keep what you buy. Spend it wisely.

Sincerely,

M.L

You sat on the edge of the bed as Winter read the note to herself. Your jaw was almost to the floor as you had forgotten about your plans for tonight. It was fun the other night when you met him, but now you were nervous.

"This is amazing," Winter gasped excitedly. "But wait, why do you look like that?" she asked.

"How in the hell am I supposed to have dinner with him tonight? He's so-"

"Weirdly arousing and complex?" Winter grinned, mocking Liz's words from the other night. "Girl, I'll gladly take your place if you're going to chicken out, who in their right mind would do this for you back home?"

You stuffed everything back into the envelope before you both settled back into bed. "Maybe that means he is crazy, and I'm doing myself a favor," you mumbled.

"First off, he is hot. Second, it's just dinner, if he is willing to pay for you to get a new dress, well..." Winter pulled the covers up to her nose, "Maybe that means he is a keeper, y/n,"

You both laid there in silence before you caught up on sleep. You woke up again closer to ten, and you stayed under the covers on your phone while Winter took a shower first. You scrolled through Instagram, Tumblr, and TikTok, seeking out the ones that reminded you most of Vine.

You tried to distract yourself from the anxiety bubbling in your belly. Michael Langdon intimidated you; everything about him seemed so reserved and poised. From the way he spoke, to how he walked, and you had to admit, his wardrobe was on-point.

"I'll just get drunk before I go up there." you joked to yourself as you passed the fifth video of spoiled New Yorkers seeing Beetlejuice for the eightieth time.

Since you and Winter weren't familiar with the higher-ups in the fashion department, you did a lot of Googling as you walked down the streets of Los Angeles. The Hotel Cortez felt like an icebox compared to the weather out here. Most of the stores that you passed or glanced through seemed to cater specifically to prom dresses and other school formals.

You stopped into a particular store that seemed too over budget. Winter couldn't help but gush at their selection of bridal gowns in the back of the store, and as you pulled her away, your mouth even watered at the beautiful dresses in front of you.

"I'm not getting married, Winter," you snorted as you dragged her back into the streets.

You both stopped a Starbucks, sitting down and resting as you chug your drink. "I'm about to give up," you sighed.

"We've only been out for- two hours," Winter replied sheepishly. "Come on, you have three-grand in your pockets, we'll find something."

"Everything here is kind of weird," you frowned, thinking of the four-thousand dollar dress you saw that barely covered the crotch of the mannequin wearing it. "Plus, who can afford to spend four-grand on a dress?"

"Think about it this way," Winter pointed at you, "Michael saw you wearing clothes from Forever 21. Maybe he figured you liked the simple things,"

You know how to stretch a buck when your paychecks were smaller than usual. Michael did say buy something for tonight, but...

"How will I bring all of the clothes back home?" you asked.

"We'll worry about that later, and let's get the fuck out of here, I can barely hear myself think."

It was more comfortable for you to go into stores you were more familiar with. You bought new jeans, new shirts, and dresses to wear once the weather warmed up again back home.

By the time you were finished, you still had about $2,400 in your wallet. You let Winter pick out some things too. It made you feel bad about going on a shopping spree without her.

"I wonder if this is what it feels like to have a sugar daddy!" Winter all but yelled in the sea of people passing you in the street. You threw your head back and laughed.

"I guess we need to find ourselves one," you joked.

"Okay, but Michael, I mean- The Count," Winter rolled her eyes, "Is totally sugar daddy material, is he not?"

"Is he even old enough? He's like thirty-four, when I think of them, I imagine someone in their sixties or something," you stated.

"He's older, and he gives you money for nice things, so I'd say he most certainly qualifies," Winter said, continuing to talk when a mannequin caught your eye.

You stopped dead in your tracks, not caring when the person behind you cursed when he bumped into you. Winter finally realized you weren't by her side, waltzing over with a confused look on her face.

The red cocktail dress stared back at you, the silk taffeta material almost glowing under the light above it. The neckline plunged, leaving little to the imagination. You didn't care, though.

"Do you see a price tag?" you asked.

"I think that's it-" Winter said, leaning in closer, "-holy shiiii-"

The store owner must have caught you two gawking, because the door swung open, revealing a small man with a shaved head beaming at the two of you. "Are you ladies enjoying the view?" he joked.

"Yes, I love this dress," you said, pointing at it. He seemed pleased as he looked you up and down.

"I think this calls for a fitting! My name is Ted, come on in," he said.

Needless to say, spending 2,300 on a dress was strangely rewarding.

You got into the elevator at 7:57.

It slowly rose to the top, and you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You had many floors to go, and you looked at yourself in the mirrored wall.

Winter had pinned your hair back, before coloring your eyes and lips in a similar shade of red to your dress. You admired your boobs, hoping he wouldn't be too put off by them. You never really dressed like this; hoodies and sweaters were some of your favorites. It felt good to show off your body; you felt beautiful. Like you accepted yourself for who you were, even if it was over by the end of the night.

You ran a hand along your belly, sighing deeply as you felt like you were going to vomit.

it's just dinner, you'll be fine.

The elevator slowly came to a stop, the doors slowly sliding open. You looked around, seeing you were already inside of his place. You could hear gentle music playing in the background; you hid your smile when you heard Lady Gaga singing.

"Hello?" You called out, your voice meek. When you stepped out, you realized how much warmer this room was compared to the rest of the hotel. If it were any warmer, you'd probably think you were about to enter the deepest pits of Hell.

"Ms. l/n, how lovely to see you,"

You jumped, looking to see Langdon slowly making his way to you, his hands behind his back. In perfect pose, like always. The view behind him told you he just came from his bedroom.

You were at a loss for words, much to his amusement.

"Interesting..." he said as he observed you with a slight tilt to his head. "I admire your choice of color, the red compliments your eyes," Michael said.

"Thank you, uhh-"

"You can call me Michael," he said firmly. "I hope you used my offering wisely, I'd hate to think all that went to waste."

His blue eyes bore holes into your skull as you instinctively went to push your hair behind your ear until remembered it was pinned back. You dropped your hand with a shy grin. "It was nice, thank you."

Michael continued to stare at you like he couldn't seem to figure you out. You watched as his perfect brow twitched as if he were hiding his true expression from you. You swallowed, turning to admire the rest of his space. Like the lobby, red seemed to be a favorite in his repertoire.

Almost like a ghost, you could feel his presence directly behind you. A gasp caught in your throat as you felt the fabric of his expensive dinner jacket brush against your bare arm. A small glass of wine. You took it from him, bringing it to your nose where you gently inhaled.

Amusement flickered in his eyes as he watched your childish action. He had a glass in his own hand, but it definitely wasn't wine.

"Iris is bringing dinner at 8:30," he explained, watching your eyes flutter as you took a sip. It tasted terrific, you wondered where it was from. But you never asked. "Sit, y/n," Michael pointed to the expansive couch behind you.

You chose a cushion, Michael sinking into one just a bit farther down. You found yourself taking bigger sips of wine; it was almost addictive, the taste. Michael brought his glass to his lips, draining it quickly, before he set it down, his tongue slowly licking along his lip. You stared at it.

"y/n," he sighed. You loved the way your name rolled off his tongue. Michael suddenly smirked, his eyes slowly meeting yours. "Tell me about yourself."

You cleared your throat. You always found this to be awkward; what was really interesting about your life compared to his? Yet, you told him a little about your life back home. Your job, your education, your friendship with Winter, and how important she was to you.

Michael didn't say a word the entire time. He watched you intently, almost like he was entranced by you. Your voice, your past, your hopes, and dreams. It brought you comfort; you felt like someone was listening to you out of pure interest, and not to be kind.

"I think that's enough about me," you said awkwardly. Once again, his eyes crinkled with amusement. "It's your turn."

Almost as if on cue, the elevator slid open. Iris and Liz stepped out, pushing a large tray of food. Michael immediately stood up, his eyes piercing through you as you slowly did the same.

"Dinner is served, my beauties," Liz said excitedly, pushing the cart towards the two of you. Michael rolled his eyes, but you could see the playfulness in his actions.

"Thank you, Liz. Iris." He said, looking at her like she had all the answers in the world. Iris shrugged, waving him off as they set the table for you two.

You looked at your empty glass, before looking up at Michael, "Michael-"

"Of course, y/n," he said. He took the glass from you, his fingers brushing yours. He was a little cold to the touch.

Michael got you some more wine as you pondered how he could have possibly known what you were about to ask.

"Is there anything else I can do?" Iris asked as Liz wheeled the cart back to the elevator, waiting patiently.

"Not at all, I will call when we're finished," Michael said, handing you back the glass.

Iris nodded, turning, and meeting Liz. Before the elevator doors shut, Liz winked at you.

Without a word, Michael walked to a chair, gesturing for you to sit. You walked over and took a seat as he gently pushed you in. Michael placed a hand on your shoulder, his rings softly digging into your skin. There was something erotic about the way he moved his hands, so fluid and sexual.

"You seem tense, y/n," he mocked, and you could imagine the smirk on his lips. You shook your head, pressing your thighs together as you tried to forget the handsome man standing behind you.

"I'm just hungry," you said lamely. You felt his fingers gently curl into you before releasing.

"As you should be." He said before his hands left you. Michael walked around the table, sitting across from you. The distance between you was small, you could nudge his leg with your toes.

Michael's glass was full, as he watched you expectantly. The food smelled delicious, your belly softly rumbling as you glanced at him.

"Don't wait for me, precious," Michael said, pressing his fingers together. Your cheeks slightly burned at the nickname, before slowly picking up your silverware.

After a few bites, Michael finally started to eat. You remained mostly silent, enjoying the food. Your foot gently bobbed along to the music.

can you light the fire

i need somebody who can take control

"You never told me about your life," you pointed out. Michael glanced at you, taking a sip of his drink, a mischievous look in his eyes.

"I told you how old I am." He smirked.

"Come on, Michael. I spilled my whole life story to you, now it's your turn." You glared at him.

"Very well," he said. "I was born in December of 1985. My parents were in the process of getting divorced. I had a twin, but he was stillborn," Michael said. His tone hardly wavered, neither did the look in his eyes. He seemed almost content. "My mother was devastated, she blamed me for years for his death. I was too strong, I overshadowed my brother, and he never stood a chance."

You had stopped eating, wondering if you should have even asked in the first place. "Michael..."

"I like honesty, y/n," Michael stated. He looked directly in your eyes, "Do you disagree?"

You slowly shook your head. "No..."

"Great." He ran a finger along the rim of his glass, the diamonds on his rings shining from the light. "She killed herself when I was ten. My father couldn't afford to raise me on his own, so we moved here. That's when I met Iris. She became my second mother, took me in like I was her own. Eventually, my dad abandoned me without a word of warning. He died two years ago under mysterious circumstances." Michael said coldly.

You felt a pang in your chest, and you instinctively raised a hand to your eyes to make sure you weren't crying. Michael stared at his plate, his eyes forming into slits.

"After the original owner died, I took over. I made some investments, great ones, in fact. Now I own the hotel with all the money anyone would ever need. I take care of my family, and they take care of me."

Your food had grown cold by the time he finished.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize how painful your past has been, Michael."

You were surprised to see him smile. Michael showed no signs of arrogance, just genuine appreciation. "I tend to keep the painful memories to myself, y/n. Your kindness has just opened up my vulnerability."

After dinner, you and Michael had moved back to the couch. After a few more glasses of wine, you were more talkative.

Iris had cleared the plates before leaving you alone. Michael listened to you talk about your favorite things and what you despised most.

For someone who wasn't that much older than you, give or take, he was very wise. If his dialect wasn't example enough, Michael's real thoughts and opinions were of an old soul. The hours slowly ticked by, and before you knew it, you were leaning against his side.

"I find you to be fascinating, y/n," Michael said. Your hair had slowly started to unravel, and he eventually released it all together. He wouldn't admit it to you, but he loved the way it framed your face. And your neck.

"You don't think I'm just some boring twenty-something?" You teased. Michael smiled.

"Not at all."

You glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearing 2 AM.

"Holy fuck," you said. Michael snickered at your language but didn't comment. "I didn't realize how late it was."

"You're more than welcome to leave, y/n," he said, but his words seemed rather forced. "You don't have to stay on my behalf."

You could feel yourself becoming tired. Yet, you were very much enjoying this. Michael was a breath of fresh air. Everything you said, you didn't feel scrutinized. Michael liked to hear you talk, to hear about the things you were most passionate about. He listened to you.

You weren't drunk, just a little tipsy. You tilted your head at him, "Michael, how are you as single as a pringle?"

Michael frowned at you before a deep, genuine laugh echoed from his chest. You blinked at him.

"y/n, I'm very particular about my women," he said quietly. "I was a teenager once, you know. I made many mistakes, just like you, just like everyone else. I have my guard up more than most. You understand."

Michael was right, you understood perfectly.

"You talk like you're from an old Hollywood movie. It's kind of hot." You blurted out.

Michael brought a hand to your cheek. You leaned into his touch, his fingertips gently moving along your cheek, tracing over your nose before setting on your painted lips. Most of it had worn off by now, but neither you nor Michael cared.

"My sweet, sweet y/n," he whispered. "I certainly don't fuck like one."

You felt your thighs clench as he tilted his head at you. Michael's blue eyes observed you before a smirk slowly crossed his lips.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, y/n," he teased. His finger left your lips before they trailed down the side of your neck. He grabbed your throat, applying just enough pressure that left you a whining mess. "I think you've been hiding your arousal from me all night." He frowned, "At least, that's what you seem to think."

Michael observed you quietly, your hand slowly coming up to touch his as he continued holding your throat. He was amused by the sight of you.

"I could almost smell you," he growled before he lifted you like you weighed nothing. You sat on his lap, his knee knocking your legs out of the way. Your dress rode up on your thighs, revealing the red underwear underneath. It was nothing fancy, just comfortable.

Michael pressed his nose to your ear, adjusting his grip on you as you squirmed in his lap. "I like you, y/n. You're very bright, not quite like others I have encountered..." he pressed a kiss to your earlobe. "Yet, one thing always remains the same."

You slowly stuttered out, "And what's that?"

Michael chuckled in your ear, the sound husky. His free hand slowly slipped under your panties, running his fingers through your folds, before finding your clit like it was nothing. You gasped, a quiet moan escaping your throat as your hips bucked towards his hand.

"You girls want to be impaled on my thick cock, isn't that right?" Michael mewled in your ear. He still teased you as his hand was in your underwear, you pouted.

Michael released your throat, your body immediately sucking in air as he unzipped the back of your dress, allowing it to bunch at your waist. You helped him slide it off, you now clad only in your panties.

You could feel his hardness rubbing against your ass.

Michael removed his hand from your clit, making you sigh in frustration. He tsked at you, pulling your back flush against his chest as he carefully slid his fingers inside of you.

"You don't have to be greedy, y/n," he scolded. "I love having my fingers inside your sweet pussy. You take them so well, baby," he sighed into your ear.

Michael continued to finger you as you moaned and squirmed above him. No matter how many times he gently scolded you for moving too much, you couldn't stop.

"Michael, I'm so close," you whined.

"I never said you could come, y/n," he shook his head. "Be a good girl, bad girl's get punished if they misbehave,"

You whined as his fingers curled inside of you. Your arm slowly wove around his neck, gasping his name as you tried to fight off your impending orgasm.

"My precious girl," Michael purred before his fingers slid out of you.

The whine that left your mouth was loud. Michael laughed at your distress, his hand sliding from your panties entirely. He stuck them in your mouth mid grunt, making you shut up.

"Make them spotless, y/n," Michael said sternly. "Let's see how well you use that tongue before I stick my cock in your mouth."

You sucked his fingers, purposely being as loud as you can. Your tongue ran along his digits, tasting your arousal, before the sweet taste of Michael. When he seemed satisfied with your efforts, he pulled them out, forcing you to stand up.

You had no idea how Michael shed his clothes so quickly. Before you knew it, he was pulling you on top of his body. Your eyes widened at the sight of his dick in front of your face. Your knees resting on either side of his head as he ran his big hands along your ass.

"If you be a good girl, I may let you come, precious," Michael stated before you felt his tongue slowly circling your clit.

The sensation caused you to gasp, temporarily buckling your elbows as you struggled to stay above him. Michael kept a tight grip on you, your belly laying directly on his. Perhaps that meant your weight was no bother to him.

You gripped his shaft in your hand, your eyes rolling in the back of your head as he slowly dragged his tongue along your slit. Michael moaned against you, causing your legs to tremble from the pleasure he was giving you.

You licked the tip before slowly taking him into your mouth. Michael hummed his approval from underneath you. He was thick, and you could feel your mouth burning as you opened as wide as you could.

Michael slowly rutted his hips to meet your mouth, both of you groaning as he slipped further into your mouth, and then Michael sliding his tongue into your tiny hole. You weren't that experienced in this predicament; you were afraid of neglecting Michael as he blissfully ate you out.

After a while, your legs started to quake as Michael spread you out wider. His back arched from the couch as he chased your pussy when it started to become too much. His hands gripped your ass tightly, shaking his head against you as you released him from your mouth to scream his name.

Michael's tongue gently lapped at your clit as you came down from your orgasm. His tongue curled against your dripping hole, gathering your juices while he slurped you up.

"Michael," you moaned. He pressed kisses along your folds, before trailing along your thighs. You continued to stroke his cock, feeling his own body tensing up beneath you.

"I better come in your fucking mouth, y/n," he asserted. You felt him make your ass, causing you to yelp. "You're going to swallow every last drop."

You took him back into your mouth as he released your ass. Michael kept his hands on your thighs, stroking them softly as you took him in as far as he would go. Your mascara ran down your cheeks as his girth stretched your mouth to ridiculous lengths.

"That's it, baby," he whined. You fought the urge to smile against him. Michael Langdon, whining because of you. His dominant hand came back to your pussy, feeling for your clit. You were still sensitive, your legs jerking as he starting stimulating you. Again.

You groaned in disapproval.

"After I come in your sweet mouth, you're going to sit on my cock, precious."

A few more jerks of your hand had him falling apart beneath you. You felt him spurt deep into your throat, your eyes closing at the feeling. Michael slowly circled your clit as he came, sighing deeply when you sucked him clean.

"FUCK!" he called out. Michael maneuvered you off him, before standing up after you. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you in for a kiss.

Michael took your breath away, the taste of you on each other's lips. You felt him bite your bottom lip, before moaning into your mouth. His hands slid along your body, playing with your breasts, ghosting over your arms, just feeling you.

Michael took a seat, bringing you down onto his lap. You brought him in for a kiss this time, smiling as he carefully helped you slide onto him.

You felt him in your belly, gasping and breaking the kiss as you settled onto his thighs. Michael leaned back against the couch, his blonde hair frizzled out as he gazed at you with admiration.

He didn't say anything as you adjusted to him, his hands roaming your skin freely. The playlist in the room had long stopped, leaving you two in silence, save for the pants and whimpers.

Once you were comfortable, you bounced on his lap. Michael allowed you to take control at first, his lips sucking your nipples into his mouth as you run your hands through his soft hair.

"Your pussy is so fucking tight for me, y/n," he grunted. You pulled his mouth from your breasts, silently begging him to pay attention to the sensitive skin on your neck. He obliged, biting and leaving delicate kisses to your slick skin. He left his mark on you, eventually grabbing your hips again to pound into you.

"Oh, f-fuck!" You gasped, "Michael, Michael, Michael,"

His hips were smacking against you at an almost inhuman pace. His face remained buried in your neck, leaving multiple love bites as he growled into your skin.

"You better come before I do, baby," Michael warned. "You want to come, don't you, baby?" He mocked you. He released one of his hands, reaching back to bunch your hair in his hand, before yanking it. Your chest arched into his, gasping as he exposed your neck to him.

"P-please, Michael..." you whimpered as he kept up his relentless pace.

"I'm fucking close, y/n. You better come all over my dick, precious. Show me who this pussy belongs to."

The next few thrusts of his hips had you coming all over him. Your wetness dribbled down your thighs, onto his and the cushions beneath you.

You unintentionally squeezed his dick, your muscles contracting so tightly that Michael nearly lost his breath as he came inside of you. He slowly moved you along his shaft, making sure you completely coated him.

He brought his lips to yours again, his hands cupping your cheek as you kissed. You stayed in that position for a few minutes, before he gently removed you from his lap to place you beside him. You gasped as you no longer felt full.

Michael spread your legs, his eyes on yours as he slowly ate you out for a second time. You mewled from how sensitive you were. Just like the first time, Michael kept a firm grip on you as he lapped up his cum leaking out of you. You ran a hand through his hair, sighing his name as he pressed his nose onto your clit.

When he was finished, he pulled you close to him, his head resting on your breasts. You both were exhausted.

"We should have done this a few days ago." You whispered, thinking of your ride back home.

"We still have time," he whispered. "I hope your friend doesn't expect to see you until then."

taglist: @soph3218 @jetblackpayne @its-mikha @vixi3303 @cuddletothecake

#michael langdon x reader #cody fern #ahs hotel #au!michael #older!michael #jim mason x reader #duncan shepherd x reader #xavier plympton x reader #michael langdon imagine #asks #michael langdon #winter anderson #liz taylor #tristan duffy #michael langdon smut

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escapedartgeek · 4 years ago

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Muse Aesthetic Deconstruction.

repost, do not reblog. ― inspired by the layout that the aesthetics wiki has for its pages on various aesthetics.

Name: Zoracore - getting into the aesthetic of Zora Andrews. Hm.

Key Motifs: working on art pieces whenever possible, exploring cities, staying on the move, wandering between realms, being too used to the heat, the sight of a desert, things being more than meets the eye, visions and imagery that you can not escape, seeing into the worlds beyond, trying to express an unconstrained self, dreaming, dreaming, dreaming, being tired of a world one can not fit in, unpacking the self constantly for the sake of development

Core Values: creativity, open-mindedness, growth, wanting better for themselves, being willing to assist others, encouraging the imagination, being true to the self no matter the cost, refusal to self-deny

Characteristic Expressions and Mannerisms: Looks like they are always a little further away, thousand yard gaze that sees right through you - through this realm even, rocking on their heels as they wait, fidgeting with their curls or clothing, purposeful pauses before they respond, casually cryptic, cryptically casual, feels like they could appear and disappear at a moments’ notice, always thinking about something, somewhere

Wardrobe.

Signature Colours and Patterns. lavender, dark purple, white, silver, black, grey, sometimes varying shades of blue, maybe a red or pink may surface. Gold occasionally.

Clothing. multi color bomber jackets, asymmetrical layered skirts, overalls, colorful tees, button down, creepy-cute aesthetics, space and cosmic patterns, spider web and lacy patterns, alternating between eerie and cool

Shoes. creepers, high top sneakers, oxfords, ankle boots, chunky heels, flats

Accessories. black, purple and silver jewelry, skulls, roses, planet accessories, fingerless gloves, bracelets, scarves, vests, patterned tights and leggings, chokers, interesting styles ofearlies

Signature Materials and Textiles. jeans, occasionally leather, cotton, taffeta, linen, twill, miscellaneous synthetics depending on what the item is

Room Décor: soft lavender and white light. Big luminescent energy Although the colors of a sunset with the pink, oranges and blues is likely to come in through the weirdo. purple and black decor with accents of silver and white. Posters of unique art pieces on the wall, collection of sketchbooks near the bed, music is usually playing whenever they are home, a desk with their supplies arranged for easy access, some odd figurines of spiders, creatures, aliens and other odd findings are on their dresser and desk, notes from dear friends and loved ones hidden in a drawer.

Relatable Media: golden era of rap - De La Soul, Queen Latifah, Salt N Pepa, Digable Planets and artists influenced by that era, new wave, alternative soul, Daughters of the Dust, Ganja and Hess, Parliament, Funkadelic, Earth Wind and Fire, new jack swing, house, techno, Crooklyn, classic 90s Black comedy, Black Arts movement, Betye Saar, Janelle Monae, Missy Elliot, Living Colour (band), Algiers, O. Children, Poly Styrene, The Selectors, Gang of Four, Husker Du, Blood Orange, Vince Staples, Kari Faux, Yves Tumor

Activities:

working all night on a project and doing a ritual to close out a work session

wanting to feel known but being wary of how much people are comfortable knowing about you

putting together playlists based on the books that one is reading, or based on dreams

wandering through multiple dimensions to get inspiration. And for an escape.

shifting into other forms as a form of relaxation and stretching

sending signals into space and getting messages back from your relatives and their eldritch friends.

forgetting to eat for several days and just.. going to a diner and eating a nice meal as if you hadn’t forgotten

lurking in the night streams, providing that eerie luminescent view. Perhaps being a local cryptid

Going to art shows and being openly unimpressed by some of the work that they see. Calling out the bullshit in the scene to the creator’s face

Laying on the floor getting overwhelmed by thoughts and emotions from time to time while a song is playing.

Sitting outside somewhere high during the night and just watching the movements on the streets below. Or gazing towards the stars above.

Tagged by: stolen from other blog and also @shimmerseas Tagging: you, @themercifulmother @artefactyeeted

#info

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ofcloudsandstars · 6 years ago

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I had a really colourful (but long) dream last night! I haven't had such a vibrant adventurous dream like this in a while. It was very vivid and somewhat thrilling. I used to get them more as I was younger but now the pop up every once in a while.

It is a bit long so I'm going to make a read more

It was sometime in the near/far future and I'd guess I was somewhere warm (yet not tropical??) in south east Asia. I was on a beach with a rich pink sunset, brown sands and castle ruins with this extremely attractive dark skin Indian guy. We were apparently investigating the castle ruins together, flirting, checking out the wildlife and showing off some talents. I had certain magic powers in this world like I could fly gracefully and control things with my will and he was impressing me with his skill of chemistry and showing me local nature I was deeply interested in. The space was beautiful it felt like another planet. The grass was tall and bronze and would glimmer in the setting sun, and the trees I don't know how to describe it but were slightly different with large brown circular leaves.

We were hunting for mutations which I was reading as natural unbalances. Like I vaguely remember it was us looking for strange animals we've never seen before cause nature survived some environmental crash and new species emerged to correct it but humans survived and were still living their old ways but the new creatures, society named mutants and put them of course in a bad light cause they often are the cause of why we can't continue living the same way now that there are 'monsters' lurking out there. Of course the big ones get battled off and killed (though even those are difficult cause some evolved to resist destruction) but the more troubling ones would be like small worms similar to electric eels that have an appetite for electrical wires that destroys cities power systems, or bugs that evolved to thrive in algae polluted waters that make new toxic ecosystems that humans and livestock can't be around.

I was trying to understand these new 'monsters' and was checking out this vibrant blue and neon striped scorpion/lobster crustacean on the beach (apparently locally referred to as tiger scorpion in case you want to know the local names of monster creatures in my dream world), that was threatening to puncture a highly toxic venom in us if we didn't keep away. We clung to the side of the castle as it menaced us but as I made sure we were both calm and sent it calming/friendly vibes it calmed down too and left us alone. I held the extremely hot guy and floated us down gently to the sand and I was trying to explain that maybe these creatures weren't bad it's just evolution. He was very VERY open minded I could tell cause apparently this belief was highly controversial for the future society we were living in but he somewhat agreed. He took me around the castle and off the beach towards some bronze grassy fields where cows were grazing. There was a pond with dark brown water and a few dead cows around it. Some had large holes in their heads. It was from one of the bugs that live in the toxic water. For some reason animals can be attracted to the water like flies to a pitcher plant and the bugs get to them. I had to agree that the site was very ugly and gruesome but we still shouldn't villanize these 'monsters' but see this as some grave imbalance. I kept asking 'how did this happen?' As if I knew deep down it was more than just humans being irresponsible with the environment but also governments not controlling something they've been keeping a secret and now it's karmic consequences humanity is facing.

Suddenly a very elegantly and luxuriously dressed woman emerges from a black car. She's upset yet too polished and elegant to show it outwardly. I could just feel her anger and disapproval. She had a long taffeta type iridescent wine gown that shone bright red, lots of onyx jewelry, a tight upbun with more black jewels in it and beautiful red shoes. She's clearly the guy's mother and is asking him what he's doing so far from the estate in some dangerous area (we were awfully too close to the pond and it was weirdly tempting to at least dip a foot in though your logical brain was screaming don't do it). She couldn't fathom why someone normal would want to be out in the wilderness, especially a space with wild beasts and monsters JUST to appreciate nature? Who even appreciated nature?¿? That was her expression. She looked me up and down and dismissed me as someone wayward and obviously lower class since I was dressed not in the most expensive gowns capitalism could buy. I don't remember my clothes, they were comfy and average as much as I could remember.

Anyway I thought it was the end. I hugged him goodbye and was going to be off but he asked his mom if I could come. She said of course and I was surprised? But excited! I got into the car, they took us to a train station where we saw more beautiful views of the landscape (and towering metallic iridescent neon city spires far away on the horizon), and then finally to an estate where the manor was like several huge black cubes stuck together in a mowed bronze grassy lawn that was expansive until the foresty horizons.

There were servants but they were mutated. Like it reminded me of brave new world where there were an epsilon class of humans. These guys were like mutated monkeys that could talk and were just aware of themselves and their surroundings so they can serve. They looked cartoony with huge watery blue eyes, white fur (she got the white fur breeds for the fashionable aesthetic) and dressed in colourful red vintage clothing like the uniform of an elevator man. It was really sad and unnatural but the wealthy class was happy they could buy something to work for free for them. I asked why she couldn't get AI since they have android servers (in this world apparently) and she listed all the reasons of them being faulty and breaking down and having to invest in new models every other year while these creatures live for at least 8-10. And I'm like: I remember reading they inject them with diseases on purpose so they die earlier and you have to buy another one and she gave me this Irritated look. You know that look someone gives you when you point out that their new iPhone was created by exploited child labour in Africa but they're the type of person who doesn't care cause they just want to look cool and show off their money? Yes that look of apathy towards capitalisms wrongs and irritations for you pointing it out.

Anyway the guy was so happy I was still there and was ready to show me around but his mom reminded him he had to spend time with (I forgot her name so let's call her Carmella since I remember it starting with a C.) Carmella was a beautiful yet terrifying woman who was my age and her beauty was also subjective but I'd guess she fit the beauty zeitgeist that was the standards of this future. She was south Asian too but her skin was pale like she bleached it until it was milky tea coloured. Her hair and eyebrows were a metallic platinum blonde and her eyes were the colour of greenish blue opals with the same opal like specs that flash. They were pretty but you could see they were artificial like implants. She wore Indian Jewelry like the bridal nose ring that connects to the ear and the hair jewelry that ran across her silvery blonde parted hair but they were both made from turquoise stones and fiery pink crystals that matched her bright hot pink iridescent gown with turquoise and goldfish orange accents on it. I think it was the style of the upper class to dress almost like Marie Antoinette royal court fashion that was modernised by the unnatural colours and blended with the local culture by mixing it with south/south East Asian jewellery, shoes and accessories. Carmella looked like a living doll but had the personality of a kardashian. We found her in her suite of the home surrounded by hypercolorful boxes filled with shoes and bags of all different colours and textures. She didn't really budge to say hello to him until she saw me with him then she smothered him in hugs and aggressive kisses and though I couldn't understand their language she said something to him that I could tell was dirty. She kept asking him in different ways if he wanted to spend time with her and was was sucking on some type of sweet loudly and suggestively and he did not want to but his mom was there and he felt pressured so the mom closed the double doors and ushered me away. I was confused but the mom explained that him and Carmella were engaged and that Carmella parents were some insanely wealthy oligarchs (clearly as well as this family and I could tell the marriage was arranged to keep money and power with the family) and she further mentioned that she would gladly liked to have left me dumped by the fields by the beach but she never saw her son so happy in years so I could stay as his servant (strongly hinted as concubine).

I was so confused, I tried to protest but she showed me my room which was very doll like and custard yellow. It was near the rooms where the white monkiesh servers slept. She forced me out of my clothes and wanted me to wear something fashionable which was a white lacy Victorian gown with a long lacy collar. I wore neon yellow boots and custard yellow and neon elaborate jewelry (like necklaces, a nose ring I was sure was a tracking device but was too painful to remove, chandelier earrings).

I was restricted from entering parts of the manor like there were no locks on the doors but the doors could read the details of your face and register if you were allowed to pass or not. I was stuck in the servants quarters unless the guy would visit me. I realized I was imprisoned but that didn't stop me from my investigation of where humanity went wrong with its experiments and disregard for nature. The mutated servants were a small piece of the puzzle. I was devising ways to escape as well but the mother scared me and has a personality similar to cersei so I was trying to be as sneaky as possible. Even though the doors wouldn't let me pass I'd sneak across the elegant black marble manor by using my powers to open the doors mechanical lock with telekinesis.

I finally met up with the guy who I saw for the first time was wildly depressed. Something happened which he felt he had no control over his life (probably cause his parents controlled his life and his future) and he turned out to be a heavy drug abuser in effort to escape his reality. He was just very drugged when I found him and lounging in the corner of a room. He warned me that I couldn't use my powers in his home cause if his mother sees they'll think I'm some mutant/monster as well and will hand me over to the government that'll get me killed or worse, experimented with. I asked if he wanted to run away with me and he looked so sad I could feel pain in my chest. I understood it that he was just a very important person and no matter where he left to he'll be found. He just said that he'll never be free before doing another fat line. I understood he'd be no help and I'd have to escape the manor by myself.

I got a slightly interesting revelation from that final conversation. Maybe I was a monster too. Still in this futuristic world there were witches, even more powerful than before with powers of telekinesis. We evolved, and we evolved with nature. We could communicate with our emotions to other animals and monsters that could read our vibrations. We understand the earth and can understand her change and adapt to her, yet still the capitalist society that clings onto her like a parasite won't ever accept that and nature has to undo it with force. The monsters are only villanized cause they challenge that way of life and bring destruction to cities and resources humans depend on and I would be villanized since I still love and accept a changing environment and hate capitalism and have the ability to break through mechanical doors that oligarchs put up.

I can't tell you what happens after cause my FUCKING ROOMMATE WANTED TO PLAY FUCKING SHOOT EM UP GAMES AT 9 AM THANKS but that was my dream!

#I know people don't care about hearing other peoples dreams but you can ignore it #this one was a witchy harvest moon dream #personal

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ameviva · 2 years ago

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Poppy Seeds - Ways to Grow Poppies With Seed

english poppy seeds

How to Increase Poppies

Poppies are generally one of the most colorful roses to grow in the backyard garden. Knowing how to grow poppy seeds will make sure they survive inside your garden for many years.

english poppy seeds

The majority poppies are produced from seed. Poppies also self seed starting so that each year you've got more and more to enjoy.

Rising Poppies from Seed starting

Start your poppy seeds by dispersing the seed outside the house in fall and very early with spring. Scatter these sparingly or you have got to thin them in the future. The seed must have light to germinate, so be sure to never bury the seed products. The seed additionally likes a chilly spell, so plant the in late Drop before the cold weather can come, or you can your seeds the seed within very early spring.

With early spring, the winter will give way to hot spring sunshine along with the seeds will get sufficient moisture to help germinate. In pleasant areas where winters are mild, marketing promotions campaigns to sow that seed in drop or in your funkiest looking months. The seedling will stay dormant before weather starts to help you warm up. From germination to bloom is a few weeks and the missed spring show are going to be spectacular.

Grow this poppies in full sunshine and in properly drained soil and also the plants may become waterlogged and keel over. Make sure that you change the area well using compost to give several nutrients to the factories as well as help with negative drainage. Use a slug and snail tempt as those nasties have a tendency to gobble in the tiny shoots as they simply emerge.

The middle of some sort of perennial border can be an ideal place with regard to poppies as they is going to be taller than several edging plants, with the oriental options dying down when bloom time, your vacant space people leave in the garden plants will not be noticed. When planted at the center of the garden you may fill the moves with other summer time perennials such as phlox or salvias. Any time planted in the entry of a garden base you could fill a gaps with summer season annuals.

After the poppies flower they generate an equally captivating flower head that contain heavy black, dark, grey, blue or even white seeds. A lot of these will drop in the mother plant we could more poppies meant for next year.

Additionally you can harvest that seed head to get fall crafts as they dry beautifully together with hold their condition. Of course some of the signs such as the annual breadseed poppy 'Papaver somniferum seeds' are edible and can be used around cakes, breads and also other recipes.

Types of Poppy Seeds - Options

There are several basic categories of poppy seeds and maybe they are all grown the identical way.

Oriental Poppy Seeds - The commonest poppy and can be purchased in reds, oranges, purples and whites. Perennial.

Peony Poppies : Spectacular fully increase flower in reds, oranges, purples and additionally white. Annual.

Meconopsis Poppies - From time to time called the orange poppies but are available in reds, yellows, purples and white as well. Perennial.

Taffeta Poppies - Pastel designs and a feathery increased by head that is really attractive. Annual.

Papaver Somniferum seeds -- The bread seeds poppy and a strikingly beautiful flower within a wide range of colorations and shapes. 12-monthly.

California Poppies : These are a totally several botanical family to your other poppies and tend to be characterized by the identity Eschscholzia. Shorter ın comparison to the species poppies in addition to self sow to hide an area in just a long time.

Whether you are properly a new garden breathing space, or adding to a current garden, grow poppies in your garden designed for early Spring colorful flower arrangements. Poppies are carefree plants that will pursue to grace your back garden year after year. Soon you certainly will wonder how you truly got along without the need of those Poppy Signs.

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dxsole · 7 years ago

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Nat carefully lands near her bedroom window at two am. Slides window open. Nat quietly slinks in so she can smuggle the red leathery suitcase of dresses she bought at a thrift store a few weeks ago in. A few are extremely flighty and colorful, vivid with reds and oranges. Another handful are long and cotton based, with blues and seafoam greens. A scribble of paper can be found with the words ‘Happy Birthday’ written on it. Carefully, Nat leaves as she came.

It was 8 am when the boys all quietly pattered into their parents bedroom, excitement keeping them from sleeping too late, as usual. They had been preparing cards and small gifts– they of course notice the suitcase that had been left, knowing it was nothing like their mother’s purses. Martin is the first to investigate, reading the small note to his brother’s before turning to his younger brothers. “Maybe it’s from Grandpa–”

“Nah, grandpa is too far!” Enzo pipes up, scrutinizing the gift.

“Hey! What are you guys doin’ up?” A groggy Lázaro whisper, slowly sitting up in bed and frowning at his sons. It was then the three boys forget about the suspicious gift and immediately jump on the bed, rocking both parents awake. A cheerful choir of Happy Birthday’s wake Didi up abruptly, her initial shock of being so suddenly woken up replaced with a fond albeit sleepy smile. “Oh, my boys…this birthday is already turning out well if I get to see all your faces.”

Handmade cards and gifts are thrust into her lap before Lázaro shakes his head. “Hey, hey, we have birthday breakfast before gifts in this house, yeah? You guys all promised to help me make birthday breakfast, didn’t you?” The trio all nod and climb off the bed, after pressing morning kisses to their mother’s cheek, before being wrangled up by their father.

“They’re enthusiastic, ain’t they?” Her husband chimes softly, pressing a kiss to Didi’s cheek, smiling against her skin as she hummed. “You take your time wakin’ up, alright? It’s your day to be relax and be all pampered, yeah?”

She nodded, grinning up at her love as he ruffled her hair, following the boys out to the kitchen and leaving her alone in their room. It’s quiet for a moment, Didi smiling to herself as she heard the far off sound of her excitable sons, pots and pans bumping together and soon enough the smell of pancakes and eggs wafted into her room.

Didi stretches lazily, her head turning and eyes finally settling on the aging briefcase. As usual, curiosity gets the better of her, extra sleep being forgotten as she rolled out of bed, blanket draped over her shoulders as she pattered toward the case. She recognizes the handwriting immediately, smiling to herself as she carefully kneels down before her gift, slowly opening it.

She’s met with taffeta and cotton, every color under the sun being represented in this single briefcase. Didi loves them all, seeing the vintage styling and thinking of the Hollywood darlings of yesteryear. For today she plucks out a sundress, large buttons running down the front as white and sunshine yellow stripes pattern it’s length. She probably looks like a 50′s mother of four out for day at the beach but that was not necessarily a bad thing.

In no time she’s already smoothing out the dress and admiring herself in a mirror. “Happy Birthday to me~”

#vxcalcords #you get a drabble with the fam bc..........yes #traits #happy birthday didi

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floridaindependent-blog · 5 years ago

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Windsor Dresses- Choosing Prom Dresses & Formal Gowns

New Post has been published on https://floridaindependent.com/windsor-dresses/

Windsor Dresses- Choosing Prom Dresses & Formal Gowns

Perhaps you’re seeking for the latest and stylish women’s fashions that fit every season! Windsor dresses have got you covered! In summer months, you enjoy the tanks, camis, and crop tops in all the latest designs and colors. These ideally coordinate with their denim pieces and collection of shorts.

The garments are fashioned with hotter months in mind! After the cold season strikes, there’s also plenty of apparel to enjoy at Windsor store. From long-sleeve tops and sweaters, there’s a wide assortment to choose. During colder weather, you can shop for skirts, leggings, pants, and jeggings to retain your comfort without forfeiting style!

Shoppers can get a wide assortment of outerwear casual jackets, including long cardigans, trenches, and bombers. Every girl feels the same as a princess when they shop for their prom garment at Windsor dresses store. Windsor dresses come with a broad range of lengths and colors. You can select your item from a couple of popular brands including Symphony, Masquerade, Blondie Nites and Alex & Alex.

Founding of Windsor Dresses Store

In 1937, Windsor dresses store was started in Los Angeles by two brothers as gloves, lingerie and hosiery center. The same family incredibly owns it over 80 years later. Over time, the Windsor dresses store has been dressing women for the most momentous events in life.

Several events benefit from Windsor dresses store, for instance, high-school proms, family weddings, job interviews, and graduations.

The store founded in Southern California continues to help girls and women dress with on-trend fashion on different occasions. You can’t wait to wear for your big night out. Windsor dresses store has developed from humble beginnings to almost 200 stores. A team of more than 2100 members is giving services across the world. More Windsor dresses stores are also on the eve of the opening.

Over the past few years, Windsor’s online presence has dramatically increased. Its web and mobile experience developed significantly, hence, enabling every girl to shop where and when they want. Besides, Windsor dresses store marketing has incorporated highly relevant and exceptional creative social influencer presence.

Collection of Garments at Windsor Dresses

Maybe you’re searching for the embellished gown or the trendy two-piece that is popular! Windsor dresses store has everything you need at your disposal to complete your look with the perfect pair of shoes. Do you want to save funds throughout the year on women’s fashions?

Search no more as Windsor dresses come with the ideal promo codes! The coupons make it easy for everyone to afford different types of clothes in every season. While shopping also, you don’t have to compromise on style!

The homecoming season is in full effect, and the newest Windsor dresses collection must elevate your fashion to greater heights. It doesn’t matter if you’re looking for sexy or cute looks, the style dresses at Windsor dresses store will get you feeling completely stunning!

During your night event, you want to glitter in the new style. Scroll for the Windsor dresses and enjoy the coupons while you explore trending colors from red, black, navy and mauve. Search no more for high-low, mini, and crown-ready skater Windsor dresses.

In the prom, you want to leave your colleagues breathless in a ruched tube, formal velvet and taffeta party dresses that spike your homecoming goals. You want to look best in that open back, sleeveless and bodycon homecoming styles.

Prom Windsor Dresses

The new prom Windsor dresses come in style, and you can’t stop gazing at them! The just-in-fashion garments are fun and sleek, and you won’t resist hitting the dance ground. There are numerous exquisite colors to select whether you’re searching for glittering in burgundy or appearing stunning in different eye-popping blue shades.

Make your prom magic in the high slit, shoulder dress and taffeta mermaid that glam up the night. Show out in formal flocked velvet that just arrived or grab an open back dress that gets you to have the feeling of the Cinderella vibes. Check out for the prom Windsor dresses you have been waiting for!

From off the shoulder sequin to scalloped lace, the new assortment of prom dresses has your choice colors to mark your events on that particular night!

New Arrivals Windsor Dresses

Portray your identity with the fantastic new arrival garments. Windsor dresses portray fierce inspirations that fit any diva. It’s the time to define your style as you take the season’s wardrobe to another level. You want a new pose in the fresh takes of lace, maxi and frilly Windsor dresses. The party and super trendy-day dresses suit you with the go-anywhere styles.

Find comfortable and flattering party dress that you can fit-in at the fall event. Whether you need a chic white midi dress or red satin type, Windsor dresses just work! Or, perhaps, you want to commemorate your birthday in lace party dress or taffeta garment – don’t worry as you can wear the attire on that day cruise or fancy dinner.

Make it a worthy fall in Instagram as you shine in that short-party, midi length, long or the high-low party dress. The garment makes you look gorgeous, even as you stand out for the event! At Windsor dresses store, shop for sleeveless knit that’s ideal for the upscale occasion. You can also get the new maxi dress in floral and gauze style as a rousing select for wedding guest attire.

Step out on the nightfall in new button-front arrival mini dress or choose the cute Windsor snappy dresses in peach or white. The store’s new arrival women’s garments infuse your wardrobe with eclectic styles from sexy, super trendy to classic styles.

Club & Bodycon Windsor Dresses

Light up the fall night and make an entry in Windsor’s never-failing women’s bodycon and club dresses. You can now stand out and rock your dress code with velvet knit, sheer black lace or trendy neon looks. To keep on the trend, exhibit your personality via fringed, bodycon, animal-print, sparkly glitter and make-some-noise sequin designs.

The irresistible body fashions are stretchy permitting you to showcase your dance style while retaining your sensational moves. If your outfit is the essential part of venturing into the club, allow Windsor dresses to put a lovely staple piece to the line front.

Your shopping is limitless with garments accessible in different shapes, including halter, off the shoulder, mock neck, round, plunging, V, and sweetheart necklines. Besides, there’s stunning night club and party dresses with mesh fabrics, sexy slits, and cutout details.

Do you want to stand out in shape and style? There’s always something startling whether searching for a jaw-dropping, club dresses, or bodycon club which comes in different sizes. For a sexy night out outfit, Windsor dresses offer incredible party and outfit dresses in velvet-rope styles. The garments will compliment you as you look hot on the dancing floor or as you present in that VIP occasion.

High-Low Windsor Dresses

Express your distinctiveness with a formal, semi-formal and formal compilation of gorgeous high-low Windsor dresses that come in dazzling autumn styles. Search no more for the fitting high-low dress styles that fit your body. All you need is the super fab size attire to pin-up at homecoming or as the guest of the stylish wedding.

You want to make a memorable statement in floral, lace, and floral looks that you’ll remember forever. Try Windsor’s lovely long sleeve, breathable short sleeve, cute one shoulder, sexy strapless sleeve lengths or feel-free sleeveless to capture different style vibes. From formal wrap to classic twists, the fall has stunning high-low fashions. Explore Windsor dresses for the latest lace & chiffon styles and high low dresses in satin that you can’t miss!

The designs fall low in the back and have high hem in the front. They may come with V-necklines or off the shoulder design with favorite fall colors including plum, orange, red burgundy or black. Windsor dresses have got you covered if seeking for wedding guest attire that accommodates your entire RSVPs.

Consent to the stunning fall wedding-ready fashions that aid in defining your style. Whether in midi or long lengths, high-low Windsor dresses will get you via the season’s gliding for the event!

Windsor Discount Tips

Are you shopping for a killer night out outfit or perfect prom dress? Windsor dresses store has a wide assortment of on-trend women’s accessories and clothing. Windsor promo codes assist to make the edgy jumpsuit or beautifully beaded evening dress a unique purchase!

Promo Codes via the Newsletter

Once you hit the Windsor site, you start by signing up for regular email newsletters. New customers get a 10% discount on their first order from the store’s great choice of shoes, handbags, loungewear, and selection of Windsor dresses. You also become the first to know about the shipping offers and limited-time promos.

Refer a Pal and Earn Cash

Ensure you utilize the Refer a Friend Program. By filling your email address and putting that of your friend, you get a $15 off Windsor coupon code valid for the next order. Your friend gets $15 off on their first purchase as long as their order sums $75 or more.

You can put as many pals as you prefer. Hence, the Windsor dresses coupon continues to give more friends to jump and savings.

Windsor Store Sale Section

The sale session at Windsor provides end-of-season cut rates of up to 60%. Always check the sale discounts before you hit the full-priced sections.

Contacting Windsor Store

You can contact a representative at Windsor concerning sales, codes, or placed orders. To reach out to the store, use phone number 888-494-6376 from Monday to Friday – 6 am to 5 pm PT or through email: [email protected].

Windsor Free Shipping Policy

With all ground shipping, one flat rate applies. That’s regardless of the destination or size of the order.

With Windsor Return Policy from the shipping date, customers have 21 days to take back all regularly-priced merchandise for a refund.

Submit a Coupon

Caring is also through sharing. Submit your coupon at the right category of Windsor dresses.

Store Rating

Do you want to rate Windsor dresses? After delivery, click the stars to rate Windsor dresses store experience.

Saving at Windsor dresses Store

By signing up for the store’s email list, you can get a gift. You’ll also be alerted concerning future promotions and events.

At the top of Windsor’s homepage, check the Sale tab for some ideal discounts.

For all orders above $150, ground shipping is free. For orders below the sum, standard ground shipping commences at $8.95.

Unworn goods may be returned to Windsor for 14 days after purchase to get the refund. But you can’t return the sale merchandise.

For a quick shopping experience, open account at Windsor. It permits you to track previous purchases and store manifold addresses.

Windsor Dresses & Store

Windsor is a popular women’s fashion & clothing store competing against brands like LOFT, Anthropologie, and LuLu’s. In the past year, the store gave 64 discount codes, making it one of the leading retailers regarding coupon codes and discounting.

Often mistaken for the humble British castle, the store specializes in women’s apparel, accessories, and dresses. Windsor dresses store engages in styles like short, midi, maxi, casual, and long. The store’s attires also cover occasions like Prom and Homecoming.

As for apparel, the store carries items such as rompers, blazers, tunics, blouses, and graphic tees. On top, there’re accessories such as jewelry, wallets, hats, sunglasses, and belts.

Windsor Savings Tips

Apart from promo codes, the store provides a clearance page where you find other deals, price drops, and promotions. Particularly during the holidays, Cyber Monday or Black Friday, Windsor operates sales and promotions in-store and on the site.

Check on sales and clearance page. It’s the ideal place to seek for Windsor discounts. It’s the place they list the newest store’s sales and events.

Shopping & Checkout Tips

Besides, Windsor supports different methods of payment, including PayPal. You may check and pay via your preferred method on the store’s site.

Apply Your Windsor Coupon Code

Step 1: Get your discount code on the Windsor dresses’ page and click on the button to view it. It’s automatically copied to your PC’s clipboard or your phone.

Step 2: Go to windsorstore.com and list the commodities you’d like to purchase in your shopping cart. When done with shopping, view the store’s checkout page.

Step 3: In checkout, find the input text labeled “Discount Code” or “Promo Code.” Paste your promo code to the given box. The command also applies your Windsor savings. The online shopping mall provides modern women with all-year-round outfits to look fabulous.

Its bottoms and tops assortment includes leggings, shorts, skirts, pants, denim, sweaters, sleeveless and tees. Apart from the store’s apparel, its gathering of shoes will make you turn heads.

Indeed, Windsor dresses are fabulous, and you rarely find them online or in physical stores. When you’re prepared to check out, get some coupons to save on your purchases.

Windsor Dresses – Using Coupons & Codes

To optimally benefit from purchases of Windsor dresses, you need to get well equipped with the tricks and tips. Your main stop for the store’s discounts is the sale section. On the first site banner, you find the coupon codes.

About getting free shipping, orders must be $75 and above. The store doesn’t give price matching. In addition to Windsor dresses; you find other women’s apparel, including tops, dresses, wraps, swimwear, intimates, jackets, rompers, jumpsuits, bottoms, and tops.

Windsor likewise provides beauty items and accessories such as wallets, handbags, shoes, sunglasses, hats, and jewelry. The store neither does it have a loyalty program nor an in-store pickup. Windsor accepts returns within 14 of the ship date.

You can shop for Windsor dresses by category as you find it worth! The store has numerous choices for shoppers. It doesn’t matter whether you’re searching for crop tops, tanks, camis, or sweaters. Everything you need at the Windsor dresses store is at your disposal.

You won’t sacrifice your style as you search for long cardigans, trenches, bombers or casual jackets. Every young girl near to senior finish level wants a beautiful garment for the prom. Shop now for your gorgeous Windsor dresses and save using the coupons and promo codes!

Also for your upcoming event, you might be searching for embellished gowns or trendy two-piece attire. The ideal pair of shoes completes the look. The coupons make every season fit to buy the affordable attire for women who want to be stylish!

Windsor Dresses – Shipping Policy at Windsor

Windsor has the following shipment options below.

SmartPost takes approximately 6 to 9 business days at a delivery cost of $5.95

Ground takes around 5 to 7 business days at a delivery cost of $9.95

Priority takes approximately 2 to 3 business days at a delivery cost of $23.95

Return & Exchange Policy at Windsor

The brand wants to keep its customers happy and satisfied. Whenever you aren’t contented with the delivery goods / purchase, Windsor has the policy to return the product. While you intend to shop those gorgeous Windsor dresses, check out on below return tips and hints.

For an online store, you can return within 30 days since the date of shipment

For Brick & Mortar store, you can return within 14 days since the date of shipment

The commodities you return should be undamaged, unwashed, unworn, and all tags attached.

Swimwear must have the hygienic liner attached and unworn.

Final sale items, however, can’t be returned or exchanged.

Pasties, adhesive panties, adhesive bras, fashion tape, lingerie, and cosmetics, mayn’t be exchanged or returned.

Plus size items can be returned to the online store

Nowadays, women venture into business and jobs more than in the past. As a result, most women have limited time to cater to their fashion necessities. In such circumstances, women prefer a one-stop place where they can easily shop for their ideal commodities.

Windsor dresses store is thus the ideal brand for women who want to remain dynamic in dressing style. Windsor dresses as a result of two brothers; Albert Zekaria and Maurice who joined hands in 1937. The founders of the online store opened the first store in Burbank, California in 1957.

Since its launch, the brand concentrates on maintaining the industry pace and endlessly improving its taste for trends and fashion. Windsor dresses store ventured into e-commerce in 1998, and since then, its business has flourished!

Women Identity With Windsor Dresses

Windsor is a family-owned business committed to strengthening a shopping environment and celebrating a unique personality in women. Currently, the firm has stores in different states and has continued to increase its presence nationally.

Windsor is an accessory and apparel firm creating commodities that fit the work and lifestyles of today’s contemporary women and juniors. The store’s undertaking is to serve customers most professionally and courteously.

Windsor dresses store recognizes every customer as an individual with specific tastes and needs. It strives to offer attractive products at a good value. Some of the featured brand names include Windsor brand, Speechless, Teeze Me, Masquerade, Roberta, Morgan & Co., and Ruby Rox.

Special services entail a choice of unique Windsor dresses. The store is all about dressing up and is dedicated to seeing every feminine has attire for any event. Termed as a lifetime affair, Windsor begins dressing you in dances and graduation in high school, casual dressing in college, and aids you to prepare for job interviews.

Likewise, the Windsor dresses store also sets your girls for wedding and assists you to become the chicest soccer mom. The outfits carry crucial moments in life along with the stunning choice of cocktail and club dresses; the stores carry casual and trendy clothing from woven tops and knits.

Shoppers, similarly enjoy accessories including handbags, shoes and a wide range of bottoms. Windsor dresses store is an oasis that empowers and inspires women. The haven has the power to change insecurity and doubts into confidence. It’s the gift to women crosswise the world.

The plus-size compliments your clothing in the most exceptional way. Acquire the Windsor dresses at unimaginably low costs for homecoming, weddings, and fall attires. Order your gorgeous short dresses and twirl on the dancing floor like never before. Your incredible plus size midi dress lights up the night in lace, block and floral.

Browse and purchase long dresses that instigate in bridesmaid, statement-making bridal, and wedding guest fashions. The skater and glitter dress fashion show your girlish looks, and that’s ideal for your season events. You are searching for plus size attires that fit in the latest trends?

Windsor dresses store compliments you in every way. Perhaps, you want to upgrade your shapewear or the plus size lingerie. Shop the marked down disposable petal pasties and nipple covers; they shore up your formal attire. You can presently access the plus size Windsor dresses in the season’s trendy looks.

Windsor Dresses Now Trending

With Windsor giving affordable fashion, it’s the time to grab your best outfit! It’s the time you ought to consider shopping for the hottest attire. Choose from incredible choices of styles. Maybe, you want a fresh warm look that copes with the current weather wherever you go! It all begins at Windsor dresses stores.

You can now bring everything home from colorful autumn-colored attire to sweet sun outfit. The store has all the styles for every season. Windsor dresses have got shoppers covered whether searching for cute shorts or stylish pants. Not just that, the store has got all sorts of sharp jackets, bold skirts, vivid graphic tees, chic blouses, and a cute crop top that you ever envisioned!

Don’t wait to save funds or revamp your wardrobe with the attire you envisioned! Your best outfit is just a sale away! Some of the most iconic Windsor dresses are currently marked down with costs. You’ll love them with the same measure as you’ll love your fashion.

With the fall dress season around the corner, Windsor has the trendiest fashions for every event. That’s from sweater, dresses, bodycon, club, maxi and long. Slip into the wide assortment of must-have looks from cocktail to wedding Windsor dresses. Also, consider the mermaid’s styles with your preferred fabrics and details, including tulle, satin, lace, chiffon, beaded, rhinestones, and embroidery.

For unforgettable autumn nights, order the latest Windsor dresses and stand out! Explore plus sizes from clubbing to a night out styles that portray in midi and bodycon dresses. The attires exhibit sexy details such as color block and shoulder.

Your homecoming resort clothes, outfits, and vacation attire aren’t complete without long or maxi dresses with a mock neck, V and halter necklines. Accentuate your arms and shoulders with a cap, dress in long, sleeveless or 3/4 sleeve lengths strapless or gown.

Windsor Dresses for Beauty

There’s no better way to harmonize your beauty rather than getting a radiant dress such as Amelie! You get a complete lined mesh fabric embellished with eye-catching sequin in a stylish scroll design.

The tank-style bodice and high round neckline provide a modest appearance while its keyhole back puts the right sexy measure. The sheath silhouette provides a curve, and a slim hugging fit with an alluring side slit. Some of the attires come with two back zippers!

Windsor Dresses – Shoes & Accessories

Are you searching for new editions in shoes and accessories of stylish women? Windsor store has exactly what you’re looking. That’s from fashion accessories, flats, mules, sneakers, boots, wedges, heels, sunglasses, clutches, jewelry, hair accessories, and more.

Perhaps, you require the “under the dress” accessories such as thin straps, draping fabric, or other associated garments. Windsor dresses store has what it takes to eliminate wardrobe malfunctions. Complete your look with small to big flashy earrings.

Likewise, consider checking the chokers, bangles, necklaces, and cuffs to complement your style. It’s simple to update your formal attire and favorite casual outfits with stylish women’s clutches, purses, beauty, and hair accessories.

You find everything a girl needs for gifts, including shawls and shawls. They got something to pair with casual and formal wallets, handbags, and casual dresses.

Windsor Dresses – Occasions

Windsor dresses store has got an assortment of special occasion dresses, whether searching for a trendy special occasion or semi-formal dresses. It’s now time to take your style to the advanced level. You want to shop for affordable but also elegant formal and homecoming attire! With Windsor dresses, you make a statement in classic styles!

Get the attire of your dreams with wedding Windsor dresses and fairytale bridal gowns. Stun with formal, and bridesmaid Windsor dresses for wedding events in the trendiest styles. Move out in style from go-to little black dresses, cocktail dresses, to five-alarm fire hot red dresses.

For each dress code, give a raise to your fashion. In super pretty birthday shoes, blow out the candles to make your wishes come true. Hit your town with a stylish and functional night out attires.

Windsor dresses – New Arrivals

Explore the new clothing arrivals for the women’s must-have outfits from different curves of the fashion universe. Windsor dresses a store is a one-stop place for women’s clothing. You now enjoy the stylish assortment of new arrivals from cool tops, going out dresses, plus size apparel, fashion accessories, evening gowns, and bottoms for women.

At Windsor dresses store, shop the entire popular trends to upgrade your closet. You always want to keep on-trend, updated, and never dull? You have a wide range of attires to choose from sleek miniskirts, seasonal headbands, stiletto heels, and stripe bodysuits.

Windsor Dresses – Featured

Explore the featured best attire for women at Windsor dresses store. Perhaps, you need women’s fashions for day wear, work, special events, or night outs. Swoop in the best-sellers at Windsor. You want the most refreshing styles from the exclusive line in formal and casual styles to women’s leggings, jumpsuits, rompers, skirts, shorts, jeans, to women’s bottom pants.

Every modern woman wants to shop for the hottest attire! Windsor dresses store permits customers to get in touch with trend alerts from characteristic Instagram looks curated by the most in-the-know influencers and stylists.

Indulge your whole obsessions with the store’s accessories with belts, crossbody bags, purses, wallets, clutches, handbags, and more! With Windsor dresses store, you dive into the swimwear that everyone is talking about. Pre-order the latest attires from the store’s fashion scene!

0 notes

jimmys-tangerine · 8 years ago

Text

IV. Ne pleur pas

22 February 1972, Melbourne, Australia

It didn’t take long for Billy to fall in love with Caroline. Less than twelve hours, in fact. And it didn’t make much effort. When the concert ended, he had seen her slowly drink herself into a strange, sexual obscurity. Maybe it was her laughing—she would shake with her whole body then ebb inward to return to her catlike nature, her eyes turning down and her lips curving cleverly. Maybe it was the way she spoke—with unfounded authority and a foreign lilt. She wasn’t even a coquette or a temptress, she just was an inevitable object of affection.

And Billy wasn’t alone.

Men pulled on her skirt and tried to make her laugh, or tried to make her smile—at least. They wanted to see the crooked overlap of her bottom two teeth and hear the cascading cackle that entered your body via the ear and somehow wound up tickling your toes. And the man and the boy and the journalist within Billy fought when Caroline slipped down onto the couch beside the one man who she might actually love back.

He was the one who tucked the champagne pink flower behind her pointed ear, dragging his fingers through the unruly tufts of orange hair that fell from her braid. And he was also one of the four men in the world Billy would most like to interview.

Jimmy Page wore a pinstripe blazer with patches of beige suede on the lapels. Beneath his coat he wore a light blue button-up tucked into denim bell-bottoms. He was quite the fashionable man, Billy noted alongside the comment in his notebook that read: “Page’s signature beard shaven by early morning of 21 February.”

Caroline was reading a book with her head on Jimmy’s shoulder as John Bonham called her name, asking for a treat. Billy had taken careful observations of her role in the band; she wasn’t entirely a groupie, she seemed more vital to the band’s functions than providing sexual relief. Billy knew there was an ulterior motive to her stay, aside from Jimmy’s quite obvious infatuation with her.

Billy had sworn he would never publicly shed light on the band’s myriad vices and sinful behavior. He only watched from afar as Caroline fashioned a straight line of blow between the breasts of a popular groupie Billy couldn’t remember the name of.

Why is she the one who’s always called over for cocaine? Billy asked himself.

“You’re only here because of her, you know,” a voice announced from behind Billy, ripping him out of his scrutiny. Jimmy Page, dark and brooding as ever, stood just inches from him with a glass of brandy in his pale, ringed hand.

“I know,” Billy assured. He swallowed loudly—sure his eyes were wide like saucers. He had questions to ask—questions upon questions upon questions, but he couldn’t find the words within him to ask. The only thing that could leave his mouth were clipped grunts of simple communication.

“But if you keep watching her so closely, she’ll get rid of you,” Jimmy added as he took a sip from his glass. Billy admired how Jimmy could handle his liquor so proficiently; Billy couldn’t down a sip of that stuff without a wince.

“What do you mean?”

“Ever been to a big museum? Where they house a lot of important art—think the Louvre, or the Tate, or the MET?”

Billy hesitated, messily remembering his tour of the Louvre when he visited France as a boy. “Sure.”

“And when you’re at these places there are necessary sightings. You know, you have to see the Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, The Oxbow, The Death of Socrates, The Water Lily Pond, Weeping Woman, et cetera… Yeah?”

“Sure.”

“But these big pieces… If you sit there staring like a half-wit and leaning in too close to the big pieces, one of the guards will give you a gentle shove backward or tell you to get a move on?”

“Alright.”

“Well, with her,” Jimmy tilted the rim of his glass toward Caroline as she burrowed her head into a pillow while she laughed at something Bonzo had said. “It’s the same principle. You sit their staring with a slack jaw and moon-eyes, fervently scribbling notes and sketches, silent and uncanny… Someone’s going to tell you to get a move on. It might be me, it might be Mister Peter Grant; it will most likely be her, actually.”

“I—”

“You don’t need to excuse yourself or apologize. I get staring at her—if anyone does, it’s me,” Jimmy followed with a light chuckle. “But I’m just letting you know. If you want to stick around, don’t be so obvious.”

Billy nodded quickly, several tufts of his bangs dancing along with the swift shake.

“And Caroline told me you asked her something,” Jimmy looked downward, summoning a memory. “Ah, that you asked, ‘From where do you believe Led Zeppelin derives their greatest source of inspiration?’”

“I was interested in her answer, as I imagined from a groupie’s point of view it would be—”

“She’s not going to give you the right answer because she’s humble,” Jimmy laughed. He leaned in several inches closer to Billy, though his eyes were locked upon Caroline. “I guess I could give you the answer most would give—the standard. Women, love, sex, homesickness, childhood, death, travel, drugs, power, money… The works. But perhaps seeing it yourself would make more sense…” Jimmy urged. His temple nodded in the direction of Caroline; Billy pulled his eyes from the formidable green glance beneath Jimmy’s unkempt bangs.

Caroline stood on a velvet ottoman, with one leg swinging like a pendulum as she tried to balance herself. She was bent at odd angles, yet it was painfully graceful. She looked like a constellation.

“Jimmy, let’s pick out this evening’s attire!” She exclaimed from across the room, making eye contact with him. Jimmy snipped all ties of conversation from him to the journalist and made way for Caroline with a bright smile on his mouth. Billy understood a bit better.

“Well I’m wearing an ivory dress, Jimmy!”

Jimmy pinched the bridge of his nose as he looked down at Caroline, who sat inside of his opened and emptied suitcase. “And?”

“We need contrast! I insist upon the black shirt.”

“Why do we need contrast?”

“Because we’re going as a pair, are we not? I agreed to attend the press party as your date, now you must follow a few rules.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes and balled up the red shirt he had in his hands. He threw it into the opened closet of his shared hotel room. Caroline gasped and lunged for it, folding it neatly in her lap and scolding him with a glance and a few words: “I like this shirt. Why do you like dressing in wrinkled clothes? Why would you wrinkle this lovely shirt?”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “I’ll wear the black shirt with the white pants.”

“Which white pants?” She tested him.

“The flared, taffeta pants.”

“Perfect.”

“Now go put on your dress,” Jimmy said as he pulled Caroline out of the suitcase. “And I’ll put on my outfit.”

Jimmy was in the process of unbuttoning his shirt when he heard the sound of a body collapsing on the one of two full-size beds in the room. He turned around to see Caroline tucked into a fetal position on the bed that belonged to him.

“How did you know that one was mine?” Jimmy asked as he shrugged the sleeves of his shirt off of his shoulders and threw the shirt onto the ground.

“I smelled your Pantene shampoo on your pillow,” she said as she tilted her nose into the plushy wall of his pillow. Jimmy’s thin torso was soon covered by the black shirt Caroline had selected for him. Once the buttons of his shirt were done, he reached for the buckle of the belt on his jeans.

“Protect your modesty, Jimmy!” Caroline shouted, covering her eyes with her fingers. Jimmy laughed loudly, throwing his belt to the floor with a silvery clang. He hadn’t thought of Caroline’s reaction to him changing; with all the women that had seen him entirely naked after his success in the music industry, he didn’t really hold any qualms about nudity.

Caroline peaked out of the gaps between her fingers as Jimmy pulled the jeans off of his long legs. She was absolutely awed by the completion of his thinness; his legs were nearly toothpicks. Yet, a masculine definition echoed in every outlined muscle. Caroline could not look away from the awkward and unconventional beauty of Jimmy’s legs.

He presented himself in his new outfit with an auditory fanfare. Caroline pealed away her eyes and immediately clapped her hands, excited by Jimmy’s innately chic appearance. Perhaps it had to do with his narrow form, or with the black-and-white polarity of his raven hair and ivory skin.

As Jimmy picked up his previous outfit from the floor, Caroline caught a glance his chest which was exposed by several undone buttons. There suddenly seemed to be a very murky serenity in the room—quietness, secrecy, and darkness. Caroline stretched her arms upward as she stretched in the bed. The alluring scent of Jimmy—some obscure cologne, fire, and books—was warmer than any blanket. Caroline grew tired.

After glancing at the old pocket-watch on his bedside table, Jimmy looked at Caroline with words of urgency on his tongue. But upon seeing her fluttering eyelids and resting lips, he placed the words elsewhere. And he just stood there, darkly looming like a shadow, memorizing the serenity that laced her every feature.

Had he not been subconsciously leaning and stepping toward the bed, Caroline would not have met his hand when she reached for it. But she did, and caught onto his palm like a baby would. Her hand slowly slipped from his tiredly, but he caught it with a hook of his fingers. He soon formed a tighter grip on her small hand. And perhaps it was the quietness, the secrecy, or the darkness of the room that made her stealthily tug his hand toward her sleeping form; either way, she was not sure.

She turned with the yank and he soon crashed onto the small bed beside her—feet dangling off the end. He had been forcibly wound in a ball during his one night in Melbourne, and he wasn’t looking forward to doing it again tonight. But at that moment he had never been so gracious for a bed so achingly small. For between the close sides of the bed, Jimmy’s arm caged Caroline’s torso, his knees knocked against hers, his chest served as a pillow to her freckled cheek, and her bare toes climbed into the wide ankle opening of his pants.

Jimmy held in a sigh; he was instantly worried a single breath could fracture the delicacy of the situation. He had longed for something as little as an embrace from Caroline for an unimaginable length of time, that which only felt extended by the relationship with women he normally assumed.

Impossibly fragile was the green-eyed glance she gave him, though long-lasting. He would have kissed her if he had not so feared losing the closeness. Kissed her very slowly too—the way teenagers do after their third date. Jimmy was at a loss of all power, all will, all capacity; especially was he so vulnerable when she laid her fingers on his jaw and cheek—her touch as light as the landing of a butterfly. Amusedly her fingers drummed against his cheek lightly—possibly mockingly.

Jimmy had had enough, he thought. Though this defiance was fronted with a cowardly submissiveness; he could not overrule her. So he compromised, and very slowly placed a kiss on her soft hairline. He held his lips against her skin for a while—until she returned his cautious kiss with a peck on the chin then turned away. His skin burned as she turned her back to him to sleep.

Both Jimmy and Caroline were kicked off of the bed. Jimmy, the heavier sleeper, merely groaned when his bottom his the floor. Caroline—on the other hand—instantly lashed out and yelped.

“Dégage!” Caroline shouted from the floor.

“You two are pushing it,” Robert spoke sternly.

“What?” Jimmy asked groggily from the floor.

“You’re lucky it’s me who walked in,” Robert shook his head as he walked toward his wardrobe. He yanked open the doors and confronted a colorful rack of clothing. Caroline absent-mindedly noticed how Robert hung up all of his clothes for the two-day stay in Melbourne, while Jimmy kept it all in his suitcases.

“Il est quelle heure?”

“It’s eight,” Robert responded bluntly. All who traveled with Caroline had picked up a very rudimentary level of French.

“Merde!” Caroline shot up. She had thirty minutes to get showered, dressed, and have her makeup done. Before sprinting out of the room, she grabbed Jimmy’s forearm and shook him awake. “Jimmy, you only have thirty minutes to do your hair!” She exclaimed.

Jimmy instantly stood and ran into the bathroom. Jimmy’s hair was a delicate issue.

As per usual, Caroline’s bedroom was beside that of Jimmy. She shared it with several groupies, and they were all crowded around the horizontal mirror hanging above the sink in the bathroom when Caroline walked in.

“Je dois me doucher,” Caroline hurriedly told Margaux, her one roommate that was also French. Margaux stayed put—hovering over the sink penciling on a fifth coat of emerald eyeliner. “Allez-vous en!” She screamed, pointing toward the door.

The bathroom eventually cleared; the women relocated to either Jimmy and Robert’s room or the skinny mirror between the hotel room’s two windows. As they left, Caroline watched them with a fragmented thought. They all wore gossamer garb and did their make up lavishly; they were covered in jewels given to them by now-distant men. Margaux always wore an amulet around her neck that Jimmy had given her for her sixteenth birthday, it was made of alexandrite—a stone as kaleidoscopic as her eyes. Caroline felt a nudge of jealousy—not toward the necklace, but toward the undeniable glamour of these women. Caroline wished she exuded opulence as those girls did.

Caroline washed her body and hair quickly so she would have several minutes to melt beneath the boiling water that poured out of the shower head. She left herself just a few moments to curl in a ball on the floor of the shower, letting the skin of her fingers and feet wrinkle like a prune.

When Caroline got out of the shower, she wrapped her hair in one of the hotel towels and wrapped her body in the lavender towel she always brought with her. When she stepped out of the bathroom, she shockingly discovered Jimmy sitting at the end of the unmade bed.

“How did you do your hair so quickly?” Caroline asked as she walked across the room. Jimmy watched her closely as she sparkled with every step. She was so there, so easy, so taunting—and yet, she could not be touched.

Jimmy cleared his throat in order to speak. “It was obedient today.”

Caroline chuckled as she slipped on the enormous robe the hotel provided. Once it was securely wrapped around her, the lavender towel beneath it dropped in a pool around her small feet. She walked back toward the bathroom with the robe forming a train behind her. Before opening the door to the bathroom, she stopped and turned to Jimmy.

“Want to blow-dry my hair while I put on my make up?” She asked him with an excited smile. Jimmy’s eyes widened before he enthusiastically nodded, warming at the idea of being able to hold that red silk in his unworthy hands.

Familiar with a blowdryer, Jimmy set up the appliance as she began applying a sheer layer of foundation to her freckled, olive skin. Jimmy carefully removed the towel from her hair and grinned at the wet vermillion mess he had exposed. As he turned on the blowdryer, Caroline handed him her brush.

He worked slowly through her hair, relishing in the soft and flowery scent that flew his way with every blow of hair. Minutely, he urged forward until his toes barely touched her heels. He couldn’t tell whether her discreet and minuscule movements backward—toward him—was just her way of getting a better angle of herself in the mirror or was her consciously trying to get closer to him. Jimmy’s heart buzzed and spun in his ribcage quickly. When his fingers delicately brushed then stayed on Caroline’s neck—just along the gentle climb of her carotid artery, Jimmy swore she leant into his touch.

Jimmy then realized he’d been too focused on his fragile ministrations to look in the mirror at her. His eyes met the glass—a natural pinkish blush bloomed on her cheeks and slightly on her neck; her eyes were closed.

Like studying the results of a tricky science experiment, Jimmy slid his fingers downwards ever so slowly. He watched the small space of chest the robe exposed rise and fall quickly as his fingers moved. It was truly amazing watching her respond to his touch, and it ignited a furious fire in his every organ… Especially one. Never before had his pants grown so quickly and so easily tight.

When Jimmy flipped the switch of the blowdryer off, her eyes opened. And he knew by the look in her wet eyes that he was not alone in this hole-and-corner devotion, this furtive worship, this afire allegiance and heated curiosity. She looked away into the drain of the sink beneath her before Jimmy could further realize she liked looking at and talking to him as much as he did her; but he caught her nonetheless.

While opening his mouth to speak he decided a better use for his lips. His head lowered and met the side of her neck; he breathed her ensnaring scent through his nose and only laid his lips upon her delicate skin. In all the time that Jimmy had known women—the quiet sighs of women, their soft skin, their ripe lips—he had never been so enamored. And the core of his adoration was not lust but something so much stronger; a tug toward salvation. Caroline wasn’t a pair of legs to lay between whenever his frustration built or whenever he was drunk and aroused by nearly everything—she was another half to meet and complete. An unfinished circle. Something to love and fill and hold and trust and speak to and kiss and cry with.

She suddenly began to rile; she lashed quietly with a cry. But Jimmy kept her pinned as his hips met the small of her back. She felt his forearms encircle her waist and his lips ascend to the small, warm space of skin behind her ear. There his lips met her skin with a kiss. The sensation of his breath against the shell of her ear caused a first tear to meet the slope of her cheekbone.

It was wrong. Not only was it forbidden in the context of her job, but seeing her recent decline in health—it was wrong for him. He had to stop, she knew. She had to stop, she knew too. It could not go on. But his embrace was warmer than anyone’s she had ever encountered, and the rigidness pressed against her tailbone made her insides heat like an oven.

Her fragile hands shakily met the tops of his that lay on her abdomen. He instantly parted his fingers and pulled hers into a reversed hand-hold. His mouth hovered over her ear before it dropped onto her cheek, kissing away saline tears.

“Ne pleure pas,” he spoke quietly. His words only engendered a steady flow of tears; his effort set aflame her heart. He spoke French for her; he loved her. She knew he loved her.

Caroline shook—her body racking between a laugh and a sob.

“Ne pleure pas,” he repeated.

“Don’t you dare speak French to me,” she laughed as tears left her eyes. She looked at him and saw him smile endearingly. Most of Jimmy’s smiles were top-layer; he found something humorous or joyful and he smiled for it, but beneath it loomed other emotions. Never was it just a smile. But this was… just a smile.

Turned around partially now, her fingers left his hand and made delicate sashays up his wrist. Her short and bare fingernails dipped slightly beneath the hem of his shirt upon which she had so fervently insisted he wear. And Jimmy—inches above—watched her like he was watching a baby come to understand touch for the first time. He watched her fingers moved slowly through the screen of her long, wet lashes.

Jimmy bundled up Caroline tighter in his arms, and she laid her head against his chest. A tear still rolled down his flushed cheek when she looked up at him. He didn’t think he’d ever seen something so beautiful before in his life.

And neither did she. So she met his kiss when his head quickly lowered and instantly sunk her fingers into his wild hair. With one arm still around her back, Caroline felt Jimmy’s other arm wrap around her lower torso. And it was not slow—it was gripping and warm and wet.

Jimmy tasted like… she didn’t have a word for it. But he would hold her head straight so her mouth fell open and just kiss her repeatedly, endlessly, lovingly. Sometimes they were fast, and he’d breathe a hot breath quickly then tilt his head so he met her from another angle. Sometimes they were slow, and his tongue would meet hers; he’d just dive in so deeply she was sure he’d leave her lips bright and blooming like red carnations in June.

The rest of his body worked against her like a tidal wave meets a spiked rock. He rocked against her without restraint; she loved it. He spread her knees with his so her robe fell open and let some of him in; she loved it. His arms—when available—constantly moved to touch her and move her and hold her against him tightly; she loved it.

“Jimmy!” A feminine and familiar voice erupted from the bedroom. Caroline instantly repelled, rejected, revolted. She used the palm of her hand to wipe a smudged tear from her cheek then slammed her hands onto his chest, pushing him away.

“Imbécile!” She yelped and left the bathroom. She was immediately met with Margaux’s face.

“Pourquoi le garde pour toi? Tu ne dorme encore pas avec lui!” She whispered harshly at Caroline, who ignored her and slipped around her to snatch up her dress and shoes.

“Caroline!” Jimmy shouted after her. By the time he tried to get by Margaux, she was gone.

Taking Caroline as a date seemed no longer possible, especially seeing he couldn’t find her prior to being forced to go to the press party. However when he walked in—disoriented and quiet—he saw her across the floor of dancing people. Her dewy skin glittered and hands fumbled absentmindedly with the straw of some drink; she wore that little ivory dress and he swore to himself the damned nymph would be in for it.

Caroline refused to look up when she heard the crowd of groupies she was squished between wake up at the sight of the inevitable guests—the band. She refused to meet his eye, to say his name, to acknowledge his presence. She had no choice to reject him completely. Her blood drew a watch around her wrist—she had so little time left. She could not hurt him.

Meanwhile Jimmy pulled a roadie to the side—a fellow named Tomas—and ordered him to call the hotel they were staying in and rent out another bedroom. A suite—he preferred. Only the best for her.

“For what purpose, might I ask, Mr. Page?” Tomas asked before leaving to reach a telephone.

Jimmy looked around the room—at the fluttering groupies that seemed to eat Caroline like a hungry mass. “There’s quite a lot of ladies here tonight, and I’d not like to share them with Robert… You know?” Tomas smirked and shook his head in the way men do. He left to ring the hotel.

Caroline was taking the remaining sip of her vodka tonic when she heard: “You’re the loveliest one here.”

She turned her head to see Billy. He smiled boyishly and held a beer in his hand. A smile finally nudged at Caroline’s mouth—a shy one, but a smile nonetheless. “Thank you Billy.”

“How are you?” He asked her. She looked at him with wide eyes.

“Ask a more interesting question,” she said quietly. However small and ashamed she felt, she could never fall to boredom.

“Okay,” he laughed awkwardly. “What are you drinking?”

She smiled, looking into her drink. “Now that it’s all gone—nothing. Could you get me another?” She held her empty glass out for him.

Hesitantly, he took it. “What should I get you?”

She shrugged. “Surprise me.”

Bewildered by her fantastic ambiguity, he trod proudly toward the bar—glad to be getting a drink for such a pretty lady. When the bottom of his glass met the table and he opened his mouth to call for the bartender with a virile tone and agenda, he was stopped.

“Get her a French Blonde,” a wonderfully familiar voice spoke lowly. In spite of how much he wanted to hear this voice normally—he did not want to hear it at this moment.

“Wh—” Billy turned his head to see Jimmy page holding up his hand for the bartender. The bartender was preparing several mixed drinks prior to seeing Jimmy, but he left them all where they were to attend to Jimmy.

“How can I help you, sir?” The man asked; his teeth were white and shining with his gripping smile.

Jimmy looked at Billy, who raised his eyebrows in confused shock. “A French Blonde, please,” Billy hastily answered.

“Anything for you, sir?” The bartender looked to Jimmy again, but Jimmy ignored the man and turned to Billy.

“I need you to ask Caroline something for me,” Jimmy leant in, lowering his forehead so his bangs drew curtains over his eyes.

Billy held up the French Blonde as he made his way back to Caroline. Impressed by his smart taste, she raised her eyebrows approvingly.

“Un choix judicieux,” she said quietly.

Billy cleared his throat, ready to begin asking the questions Jimmy had assigned. “Caroline, I was wondering…”

“Yes?” She looked up from a long sip of her French Blonde.

“Because you told me to ask a more interesting question,” he clarified. “Do you love anyone?”

“Sure, I do.”

“And who is worthy of such affection?”

“My mother, my sisters, my father, and my brother.”

“No one else?”

Caroline squinted her eyes analytically. She briefly glanced upward to see if Jimmy was watching her from some strange angle, but she saw his lovely mane of ebony curls turned against her, where he spoke to several domineering men. “No.”

“What do you think of all the girls hanging around Zeppelin? Do they ever annoy you? Do you like them?”

“I respect other people’s choices because they’re not mine. They can do what they wish with their time and their bodies. I’ll do what I wish.”

“Have you made friends with any of them?”

“I’m not very good at making friends.”

“You’re friends with Jimmy, aren’t you?”

She then downed her drink and headed out to the dance floor. She was drunk enough. Booming from the massive amplifiers was The Rolling Stones’ Who’s Been Sleeping Here? and Caroline was ready to dance—a hobby she typically didn’t partake in, but something told her to tonight. So she danced and danced and danced—wrapping herself in the warm crowd of those wild groupies, and pretending that everything in her life would work itself out.

“She hardly answered any of your questions!” Jimmy exclaimed, running an angry hand through a handful of dark curls.

“Well—you know her! She’s very shifty and… sly!” Billy argued.

“This is true,” Jimmy stopped pacing. “But you failed, regardless.”

“I’m sorry, Mister Page. But…” he looked out into the crowd. She was hard to miss—glittering like the moon in a galaxy of complete darkness. The Beach Boys now played; she moved like the ocean. “Listen, why don’t you go ask her yourself? She’s out there, she’s dancing alone… Go talk to her! If she really needs to talk to you, she will. If she won’t, then it’s not time and, therefore, it’s not even worth sending me out there.”

Jimmy’s brandy was on the counter and he was gone. Billy couldn’t tell whether he regretted his words.

Joni Mitchell played now—Cactus Tree. Caroline wanted to sit on the floor with her knees to her chest so she could cry furtively. She missed warmth. She missed him already. Though she was soon met by a tender embrace. An embrace that could part a crowd—which it did.

Jimmy latched an arm around her slender waist. Her fighting was in vain—not only was he besetting, but as were her feelings. Jimmy laid his chin upon the top of her head; she pressed her cheek against the opened buttons of his black shirt.

She could feel his heartbeat—in spite of the footsteps and the shouts and the music. She could hear it like it was her own heart beating. And she thought—momentarily—about Jimmy. And how good he was to her, and how he had become her best friend, and how she was slowly slipping into him and she didn’t ever want to leave. Caroline turned her head and pressed her lips against the concavity between his collarbones. She kept her mouth there, breathing in the scent of his skin.

“Can you come with me to the hotel?” Jimmy asked once his lips touched her ear through her thick hair. She did not respond. So he continued: “Caroline, please.”

With a fast glance, she looked up at him. Then she looked around them. Most were distracted with their own controversies and wrongdoings to take notice of the forbidden activity going on between Caroline and Jimmy. She nodded against his chest and reached for his hand. Once he developed a steady hold on her, he began to move toward the exit of the press party venue.

Once outside, things were relatively quiet. Or at least comparatively so—in cities usually everything teemed with some dimension of life at all hours. But in Sydney, walking away from the clubhouse as two mere figures walking hand in hand, against one another—they were a part of something much quieter.

“J’ai tombé amoureux de toi,” Jimmy tried.

“Je suis tombée amoureuse de toi,” Caroline corrected and admitted—though not to his knowledge. She took his hand and spun around beneath his arm—until she was standing properly in front of him and walking backwards. “Mais, I like your attempt.”

“Et tu es ma meilleure amie.”

Caroline stopped and smiled. “You’re my best friend too.”

Jimmy smiled a whole smile again—where there was nothing else beneath it.

Hand-in-hand, they kept walking along the sidewalk. Jimmy would try and sneak kisses against her temple and her hairline, and maybe on her neck and lips, but she would inch away and just pull him onward. Eventually they came across a bar, and Jimmy watched as Caroline tilted her head upward; neon lights illuminated every sharp and gentle curve of her face. She dragged him into the bar. Being so late at night, it wasn’t terribly crowded—though there were no seats at the bar. Caroline had other plans, however, and she dragged Jimmy to one of the shadowy booths in the back before anyone could recognize him.

Jimmy first extended his hands across the table, palms open. She grasped them hesitantly, smiling once her skin touched his. She brought his hands to her lips and kissed his knuckles. The hands provided a place where she was not too deep nor too shallow. His knuckles were not his lips, though she wasn’t not kissing him.

“Caroline—”

A waiter came over to the darkened booth with a pad of paper. “What can I get you?”

“Two glasses of your house red,” Caroline ordered for Jimmy.

Not being able to recognize Jimmy Page in the long shadows cast by the booth’s chairs, he scribbled down the order and was off.

“Why’d you order my drink?” Jimmy asked with a smile. He could not stop smiling. Everything she said, everything he said, everything she did, everything he did—all in this moment made him genuinely happy.

“You ordered my drink at the party,” she said with lowered eyes.

“You knew that was me?” Jimmy chuckled.

“Like Billy could order that,” she rolled his eyes. He soon was up as she laughed and Caroline watched him scale the table. He slid in beside her, letting a hand move behind her back and hook her hip. He tugged her toward her and she crashed into him, laughing fervently.

“I’m so in love with you,” he spoke brightly, with a glorious light in his eyes. For that he earned a kiss. He tried to hold it but she slipped away. “And all I want to do is touch you, and talk to you, and kiss you.”

Another kiss. “You know, everyone thinks of you as this… shady enigma. Yet, you couldn’t be less of this—it seems,” she said and he kissed her again. She sighed into it briefly, igniting a quiet fire in his heart and loins.

“Really?”

“You’re just this… romantic cornball.”

“Romantic cornball?” Jimmy laughed loudly. She latched a finger around the ball of his jaw and pulled him in. Her mouth was open this time—warm and welcoming. The quiet sounds she made only worsened Jimmy’s southward condition. Soon he was sure she’d have to say something about the stiffness against her leg as she slowly draped herself across him. He couldn’t even be ashamed at the ease this came to him—everything she did made him hard.

“Yes,” she whispered, pressing her lips against the underside of his jaw.

“How’s that?” He asked but she was on him again—latched on. When one of her hands moved to sit on his knee he knew he was done for. A quick breath left Jimmy’s mouth and he eagerly moved his hips so she felt him. They didn’t even realize the waiter bringing the wine.

“That easy, huh?” She asked, quietly acknowledging his arousal.

“This is what you do to me,” he muttered. She shook her head and laughed. Then she reached for her wine and drank slowly—Jimmy watched like a suitor watches an available princess. “God, I love you.”

“Did you ever finish that book I gave you?” She asked and he took a sip of wine. She watched him drink—watched him like a mistress watches her king.

“The Lady of the Shroud?” He clarified. She nodded.

“I did,” he grinned.

“Well, what did you think?”

#jimmy page #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page fan fic #jimmy page fan fiction #led zeppelin #led zeppelin fanfiction #fanfiction #robert plant #john paul jones #john bonham #classic rock

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sam-or-whatever · 7 years ago

Text

Morals/Matricide | Self-Para

Shrieks filled the air. Tragedy had struck, and there was no way around that. While the areas of Lanford that had once seen lush, lively and livid with bustling people and the sheer vibrancy of life in pseudo-metropolis weren’t entirely vacated, silence hung over them as a court of viewers spectating a public execution. The air was dead. It beckoned for the hawking of a crow, the drop of a pin, anything to break the lack of noise that seemed so brittle in the suburban streets that it could crack should anyone open a window; and yet, it didn’t.

But the world around Sam was not silent. White noise screamed around her, hisses and hazes screeching in her ears, unintelligible mumbles and yells from strangers not in her line of sight. There were bodies-- people, perhaps. At least, vague outlines of them. Faces and limbs blurred, smeared across her peripherals and melting into each other, a bizarre Dali or Ernst painting. None of them mattered. No one mattered.

Heels clacked along the sidewalk outside of the hospital, ankles wearing down. She’d ran from the park, from the tent, from the fire that grew exponentially like a cancer on the tarp, stands and apparent souls that it consumed. The park wasn’t too far from the hospital, nor from her own apartment; she could’ve very well run home instead, sat there like a coward in her shelter until whatever horrendous apocalypse outside had passed over and was nothing more than a news headline in the morning that would soon be forgotten about as more global politics consumed every outlet.

But she had to go. Had to. There was no other option but to.

She’d seen the firemen and paramedics arrive, seen what few straggler cops come by as if there was any other prime objective in the entire city to tend to (Perhaps a drug bust in North End seemed more important). And soon, a swarm of them had arrived, too late in time for her own comfort. She saw stretchers, people carried out, limping, crawling, emerging from smoke like a macabre rebirth. Perhaps that’s when they were taken, when they’d managed to get out. Someone was doing their job.

She’d made her way home, sat on the front stoop to the apartment for far too long, lost in the thought, perhaps in shock, of what would happen to all those back at the masquerade. She knew someone had died. Well, perhaps not knew-- but the likelihood of no one losing their life in the disaster seemed unlikely.

It was almost dawn when the phone call reached her. Details scarce, she was drawn to the hospital in concern of her “family”.

Automatic doors slid open, practically at her command even if it was merely a mundane electronic routine for them, and heels clicked on linoleum rather than cement.

The emergency room wasn’t anything unexpected.

Every seat occupied, standing room only. Some wept. Some were silent. Unintelligible noisiness from behind the scenes, the medical wards themselves, leaked out into the space, more white noise to cut through the bleak. Not all of them were there because of the fire; it hadn’t injured the entire town. Of course the world still turned and people still did stupid things or were shot or got into car crashes when fires broke out. These people still would come here. But yet again, they didn’t matter.

“Did Andrew Blackwood check in here today?” Manicured hands slammed down on the desk before her. The woman on the other side, some short, Lisa Loeb-looking type with uber-chapped lips stared up in near awe.

“Ma’am, what’s your name?”

“Samantha Blackwood, now answer the goddamn question.”

“Do you bear any relation to An--”

“Just answer the fucking question, you useless cunt.”

“Please don’t use that tone with me, miss, I’m trying to help you.” She rapidly tapped away on the computer, perhaps searching databases for something that should’ve been a simple yes or no question.

“A state senator checks into an emergency room in the wake of a town-wide disaster, and you’re telling me you can’t fucking remember if you saw him or not? Is he here, yes or fucking no?”

In the corner of her eye, she saw the door to the back swing open as an orderly called someone else to come in.

“There is indeed a Blackwood checked into the ICU right now, bu--”

“Thanks.”

She bolted through the open door, nearly knocking the orderly in her bizarrely Lisa Frank scrubs over. Squeaks on the tiles, the taffeta and tulle of her dress flying behind her in lieu of smoke or dust from wheels.

“MISS--!”

Whatever the receptionist had to say was gone behind her, lost to the sound of crying patients, beeping hospital equipment and the ringing in Sam’s head that grew, tinnitus off of its tracks, perhaps an oncoming migraine.

Andrew. Where was Andrew?

Fuck Eliza.

It really didn’t matter to her where her mother was. She knew they both were in the tent when the fire broke out. Far from the entrance, at that. Perhaps they had been trapped in for a while. Perhaps they both managed to escape. Both Eliza and Andrew were too paranoid and high-strung for their own good to brush off any remote injuries; Eliza had checked herself into the emergency room for being pricked with a thorn from a rose her husband had given her. But if she had gone up in flames like the saganaki she enjoyed once a month, it would all be for the better. As long as Andrew was alive. He mattered. At least a little bit.

White. Everywhere around her was white. White floors, white walls, white curtains, oppressive white fluorescent lighting. Perhaps she stood out in grey, but the dress itself may have been what stood out moreso than the color.

Eyes darted around, wildly, for any signs of him-- Eliza’s dress would stand out if she were to see it anywhere. A hideous, voluminous ensemble of deep yellow-orange would perhaps now be singed to black. But Andrew’s matching suit would stand out just as well.

Through cracks at the edges of curtains, nothing was to be seen.

“The ICU” the Loeb had said, and an elevator trip and another quarrel with a receptionist, Sam found herself outside the room wherever one of her parents rested.

“Please tell me it’s Andrew,” she grumbled to the accompanying nurse, who held her elbow gingerly; perhaps it was for comfort, perhaps it was for control. Sam knew she could burst into a tirade and a tantrum at any moment. Security could be called if she got out of control. But as she stood, fingers prying at each other as if begging to dig under her acrylics, she was still.

“Miss, we--”

“Save it.”

“But you--”

“Just stop fucking talking. Please.”

There was a beat. A pause.

She looked upwards, up at the lengthy lights that ran across the ceiling like highway lane stripes, bearing down on the hallway below like a judgmental god. Then down at her shoes again, tips scuffed from her journey, rhinestones still perfectly in place.

She should go in. She knew she should. And so, so she glanced-- a simple lean forward and glance to the left to peer into the room. The yellow was striking; yet, she couldn’t make out what it was, the suit or the dress, from behind the curtain. It was clear that the fabric wasn’t really on its wearer, so much as draped on some coat rack or chair right behind the curtain that obstructed her view of the sole resident of the room. The sound of a breathing machine and the beeping of a heartbeat were the only sounds inside.

She pulled back, turning to the nurse.

“Where’s the other one? Whoever it is?”

The nurse bit her lip, her own hands fidgeting near her waist in a way not unlike what Sam’s own were doing.

“Miss, that’s what I was trying to tell you.”

Sam’s eyebrow raised briefly, too shaky to be as intimidating as she would’ve preferred.

“Only one of them has made it this far.”

“‘This far’?” Her voice nearly cracked.

“They both were rushed in together, and... Perhaps we should sit down.”

“No.”

“Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you, miss?”

“Stop saying ‘Miss’ as if I’m some irrelevant. You know our goddamn name. Now call me Sam or Miss Blackwood or something.”

“Alright, well, Samantha, do you u--”

“I said Sam, you absolute twit. You’re so fucking incompetent.”

“Sam, do you understand what I’m trying to get across to you?”

“One of them is dead.”

“I...”

“Is that not what you’re saying?” She stared into the girl’s eyes, her own red and sore, yet tears did not well up quite yet. She was not about to cry in front of a stranger. Enough people cried in hospitals. It was too cliché. She would not allow it.

“It... is... Indeed.”

“Then thank you. I don’t think your useless services will be required much further here.”

“You’d like me to leave?” The girl bit her lip.

“Yes, you stupid bitch, go back to your post or changing bedpans or whatever it is you do.”

“Alright... I’ll... send the doctor in soon.”

“Don’t fucking bother. I don’t need to know about any prognosis or whatever. If a doctor was that important to the situation, he’d be the one here talking to me about a dead parent, not you and your fresh-out-of-med-school, doe-eyed ineptitude.”

She stood there for another moment, almost in awe, unable to move. Maybe out of fear, or uncertainty of what to do, but as Sam’s eyes widened, her lips pressed into a firm line, the girl finally turned on her slippered heels and bolted back to her station.

Fists gripping at handfuls of fabric at her thighs, it was a miracle it didn’t shred under the sharpness of her nails. Knuckles turned white, begging to shred the rice paper skin over top.

She had to go inside.

She had to know who it was.

Why wouldn’t you just fucking ask?

It was stupid. Stupid to need to see for herself, to have the knowledge be tangible rather than verbal, to see for herself which parent was remaining.

Perhaps then she would know whether to mourn or not.

Please be Andrew.

She would never say it out loud.

Her own relationship with him was well beyond “estranged”; as long as he still fed into her material desires and kept her connected to his bank account, she could say they were still on good terms. He was a man of morals. The black sheep in his family for the mere fact that he was democratic-- and made his way into the Senate as such-- when it was a miracle his family could stand upright considering how far they all leaned to the right. But she never was close to him. They never shared intimate moments. She had safely told that therapist whose name escaped her almost a year ago that both he and Eliza failed as parents in that regard. She would have no reason to feel upset at his passing.

And yet, the fact that he wasn’t an insufferable force of nature of condescension, patronizing, self-indulging, high-strung shrieking that Eliza was. Andrew not being a Passive Aggressive Queen of the Universe himself made him instantly worthy of a tear or two.

A sigh and a grunt later, she turned into the room, the view of its resident still hidden.

“What could be behind curtain number one...” she mumbled.

The air hung heavy with silence. The tap of her heel-- always at the back of her mind throughout the day-- nearly matched the rhythmic pulse of the heart monitor, and slower still, the breathing machine gasped in and out every couple seconds.

The heap of fabric visible under the curtain made itself more visible-- yellow faded into black and grey at parts that had been singed, burnt into nothingness. Which garment it was still wasn’t clear; only bits were seen sweeping the floor.

With one more step, she rounded the curtain, eyes still fixated on the clothes before the person in the bed, and her answer became obvious.

The dress was in shambles, rags, tattered and torn, almost all of it but what touched the ground wrinkled and burned into blackness. It’s volume depleted, shape nonexistent. Thousands of dollars wasted.

Her breath held.

The breathing machine continued, almost in lieu of her own inhalation.

Eliza laid in the bed, nearly unrecognizable. A thin film of what might as well have been saran wrap isolated all but her face from the rest of the world. She was covered in black; green-tinged darkness that crinkled and peeled at random places. But by far the most shocking bit were the cuts-- nearly gridlike slices in her flesh that left her seared flesh in pieces, giant planes with deep rivers of pink in between them. From Sam’s own view, it seemed as if nothing of her hadn’t been consumed by the flames. It seemed almost impossible that she wasn’t already dead. Wires and IVs branched off from each arm, from random places on her body, tracking her vitals.

And then her face. Obstructed by the tube shoved down her throat, it, too, had a majority of it covered in the swamp-green blackness of the burn that everything else was. It swelled, gigantic, her natural features, one Sam could identify as pretty and inherited by herself had they not been ruined by association with Eliza’s personality, were gone amidst the destruction. Only two locks of her bleached hair remained, the rest, shriveled to nothing or gone altogether.

Gone was Eliza’s outer armor of beauty. Her vanity had been one thing that she made clear in previous days as important to her, always pulling out her compact to recheck herself in the middle of conversations or rantings at Sam. The woman that laid on the bed, breathed in peace, was hideous. An ogre. The monstrosity of who she was was finally visible on the outside for the world to see, but for Sam, it was only a culmination that she’d been waiting every day of her life to see.

“Of course it’s you.”

Her hands relaxed, rested limp at her side.

She stood at the end of the bed, staring at the creature before her, its chest rising and lowering in sync with the machine to its left.

A knock at the door broke what could’ve been serenity.

“You’re not allowed to be in here.” The man at the door’s white coat and clipboard announced what he was before he even breathed it out the next words. “I’m Dr. Guthrie... And you would be?”

“This woman’s daughter.” Her body remained still, only her head turning to look at him with her watery eyes. Tears were forming, indeed, but not because of Eliza. Or, perhaps it was because of them-- because it was her who laid in the bed with a chance of survival and not her husband. “You should know. Aren’t you the clown that called me?”

“You still shouldn’t be in here, Ms. Blackwood.”

“Are you going to not allow me to see her? Am I in the way of someone’s work?”

“Well--”

“Because as far as I can see, you’ve left her here. ICU, my ass. Are there more critical patients that everyone’s run off to take care of? Is she just supposed to stay here like a victim of the Salem witch trials while you lot run around filming scenes for Grey’s Anatomy?”

“Ms. Blackwood, I--”

“I really don’t fucking care.”

“I just want you to know that we’ve done all we can at the moment.”

“I said I don’t fucking care, but where does that leave her?”

He paused, biting his lip. His eyes bounced, from daughter to mother and back again.

“She hasn’t been breathing on her own. She's scheduled to go into surgery again soon for debridement of the outer layers of skin in the morning.”

“It is the morning.”

“Around ten.”

“And you think she’ll survive?”

He paused again. And before he opened his mouth to speak, she spoke over him--

“You don’t have to worry about sparing my feelings. Bedside manner is bullshit. I just want to know what to expect.”

“Full recovery does not seem likely.”

“So, she’d be like this for the rest of her life?”

“Internally, she’s mostly in shape-- her breathing is the main concern; she hasn’t been conscious since she was brought in, and we’re not sure if that could change.”

“Were you also the one that treated my father?”

“I meant to extend my condolences on that part.”

“You could’ve called earlier, you know.”

“We--”

“Frankly, I don’t care. Was he dead on arrival?”

He silenced himself again.

“Listen, Dr. Quack, are you, like, Nell, or something? You have the communication skills of a recluse. What’s the matter with you?”

“Ms. Blackw--”

“Just leave me with her for a moment. Please.”

He nodded, before scurrying off, not unlike the nurse. He paused at the door:

“You should really be wearing a mask and a gown.”

He shut the door behind himself.

She turned her head again, facing the beast on the bed.

And after a moment, she walked, moving to the side to seat herself in the only other chair in the space not occupied by a destroyed piece of couture.

She leaned in, staring at the devastation on Eliza’s body even closer-- cracks, fissures, hints of muscle visible in the valleys between skin continents, surprisingly such little blood visible. Perhaps it wasn’t safe to be around her-- exposing her to external contamination and whatnot. But then again, the sheet that covered her seemed to have that part taken care of.

“You’re really fucking ugly, you know that, mom?”

She squinted her eyes, staring at the Halloween mask of a face that rested on the pillow. Her eyelashes were missing, yet her lids seemed like the only part of her face that remained intact.

“You used to tell me that. I know.”

Eliza’s lips seemed stretched, plastic surgery gone wrong.

“I was never good-looking enough for you. But we looked kinda the same before this, no? I have your cheekbones. Your nose. Your smile. Your lips. Dad’s eyes, I suppose, but your face was mine. Do you think that was part of it? That you thought you, yourself, were never as beautiful as dad said you were, or how you told yourself in every mirror that you were the most gorgeous woman in the world? Did you think that was a lie? And rather than tell it to your own face, you told it to mine, to try and watch me tumble into insecurity, huh?”

She smiled. The thought that Eliza’s current face could no longer do that was almost comforting.

“You failed. Like much of your parenting, you failed that. I never thought I was ugly. And until the day I’m as hideous of a person as you were-- or, are, if you could look yourself in the mirror right now-- I will never think that.”

She leaned forward again, scooting the chair even closer, practically breathing in the unconscious woman’s ear.

“But your personality was always the ugliest part. Shrill. Screaming. Demeaning. You set the standard for horrible mothers in the world. For bitches in every TV show. Set an example of whatever paths should not be followed. You know, you mocked Jodi for not vaccinating her kids-- and yet she still tries to love them. You couldn’t love me. Or at least, you refused to, and I suppose I’ll never get to understand that. At least not now, will I? You can’t wake up and answer me-- and even if you were awake, you wouldn’t tell me. Is that because there’s no reason? There’s no reason for you not to love and support me? No reason for you to treat me as if I was the bane of your existence and the source of every anxiety and struggle you faced?

“You didn’t face any struggles, you bitch. The rich do not face more issues than the poor just because you have too much cash to count. You can waste it all on valium and vodka, but that doesn’t mean you’ll ever have to need any of it. You grew up wealthy, you married wealthy, you’re straight and white, and your parents didn’t beat you like you always said I should be lucky you didn’t do to me. You slapped. You struck. You didn’t beat me unconscious or bruise me, but you laid one too many hands on me whenever you lost your temper because you don’t know how to handle a little bit of sass.

“You don’t know how to handle anything, actually, when I think about it. You couldn’t handle being single, so you found the richest, handsomest available guy in New York to call your own. You couldn’t handle responsibility about birth control, apparently, or else I wouldn’t be here. And you couldn’t handle the idea of an abortion because you still went through with a child it’s clear you never wanted. You couldn’t handle a baby, you couldn’t handle a toddler, you couldn’t handle a pre-teen, you couldn’t handle a teen, you couldn’t handle an adult. You could never manage self-sufficiency, either; living off of your own parents’ money like you’ve given me so much fucking flack for my entire life, then soon found yourself clinging to your husband and claiming his networth for your own. The only thing I know you can handle is your drinks and drugs. At least that’s one thing we kinda have in common.

“You were the source of every issue I’ve had in my life. I was not good enough. I wasn’t worthy of your affection. I couldn’t have my birthdays about me, they had to be about you and your clique of cunt friends who just love to compare their husband’s dick sizes and whatever Ralph Lauren purchases you’ve made. Straight A’s still meant I wasn’t smart enough for you, even my taste in clothes wasn’t good enough for you-- newsflash, bitch, Balmain and Balenciaga will always trounce a Chanel suit when it’s all you wear, and your Gucci staples are the biggest fashion faux pas I’ve seen since the 2012 Met Gala.”

She laughed. Perhaps she was delving too much into joke territory. If only Eliza could hear this. A glance around-- there weren’t any cameras. No one could hear this. Or see this. It was almost unfortunate there wasn’t an audience. And almost unfortunate Eliza wasn’t awake to turn the scene into a full-on production.

“I know, I know-- I didn’t make it easy for you. I didn’t take orders. I didn’t take rudeness easily. Flippancy, facetiousness, bitching back and forth for hours, it all something I could’ve avoided. But what do you want from me? What did you want from me? To apologize for having a personality? To just let you steamroll me and for me to just lay there like a ragdoll on autopilot to make you satisfied when you were never going to really care if I did well?

“I did do well-- I’m doing well. I’ve done more than you ever have in your entire, insufferable life. No, I didn’t marry rich, but I could if I tried. No, I don’t have lunch with the Romneys and attend the 2017 inauguration-- neither of which I’d be proud of, anyway-- but I have things you don’t. I have a place I chose for myself without making someone else miserable in the process. I have a job that I’m happy with. Yes, your sister-in-law got it for me, but I still have it. I have a friend. You’ve met him, you know. His name is Jude. No, he’s not a cop. No, he’s not some other fashion maven. He’s a rocker. I think he’s broke. But no, he’s not leeching off of me like you would assume, either. But he’s one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met, and our times together are not spent comparing our superficial struggles and trying to outdo each other in the same field, because that’s not what it’s about. But I don’t expect you to understand that. I don’t know what you value. Money, maybe, but it flies out of your hand far more often than it does mine, so maybe you don’t value anything.

“And that’s totally fine, you know. It’s totally okay to not have standards, rules for yourself, things to have sacred. It’s fine. I just try not to make the world around me worse for it. No, I’m not a nice person a lot of the time, but I’m not actively trying to ruin people’s life. I don’t have someone that I brought into this world and have responsibility over and fuck them over at every chance I get because I like to see little children cry-- well, that’s a lie, I do, hence me stealing candy from a baby on the boardwalk last summer, so I guess that makes me a hypocrite, but you are a black hole, Eliza. You are the quintessence of virility, of the reason people think the upper class is out of control, you are the source of all evil in the household that I grew up in, and you have not suffered one day in your life because of a family of cunts bearing down on you.

“Well, you know what, that might be unfair of me to say. Maybe you did. Maybe you went through the same things I did. Maybe your mother really was an uber cunt-- you never let me see it. But if I was you, I wouldn’t bring that full circle. I would not choose to make my child miserable because the same was done to me. Like I said, I know I’m not a nice person a lot of the time. Maybe I’m net-evil at that because I say evil things all the time and get a kick out of being a casual villain, but I try to do good things at times. I try to be nice. I have friends for that-- especially Jude. You don’t. You may have experienced whatever hells the Rheiders put you through, but you just became one of their numbers in the process. The Blackwoods are not much better.

“And in fact, that’s why I wish dad was where you are right now. At least having some chance of survival. Not being wiped out of this world without a fighting shot. He was like me. He was a victim of at least some goodness in a family full of nothing but horror. His brothers are pigs. His parents are garbage. They’re your crowd. Maybe you thought he was like them; maybe that’s why you married him. But he was a good fucking man, you know? That’s why he kept taking care of me. That’s why he didn’t cut me off despite all your horrendous attempts at ruining my life even when I wasn’t in it anymore. You didn’t fucking care about the money I was spending. You wouldn’t have even known. Yeah, I know I spend as much money in a month as the average American household does in a year, but is that not what you do weekly? Context is the key here, and you wouldn’t have felt the impact I left on that bank account if you weren’t obsessively checking it to find reasons to do me in.”

She laughed again, finally leaning back in the chair.

“Funny, isn’t it? How you always called me a leech? A dependent. Yeah. I’m a dependent. I depended on you and-- fuck it, just Andrew’s money. And here you are, your life hanging on by a thread, dependent on machinery and the works of other people to keep you from slipping away.”

She glanced at the machine-- an series of thick tubes that somehow funneled to one that slipped into her mouth, keeping her lungs inflated. She stood up, moving over to it, eyes scanning whatever nonsense floated by on a screen about how many breaths she took in a minute. It didn’t mean anything to her. It just meant Eliza was alive.

All that stood between Sam and salvation was this machine.

She turned back to her mother.

“I think it’s also even funnier that you burned. You’ll burn again, you know. You were so concerned with God. A casual Christian, so perhaps not that concerned, but you did tell me I was going to hell once or twice. But I guarantee you, if I’m there, you’ll be several circles deeper than I am. Or did you not read Dante’s Inferno? Maybe you weren’t that interested. Or maybe you just weren’t that intellectual. I never saw you read anything.”

She bent down by the machine, tracing the wires, the tubes-- finding where it plugged itself into the wall. The source.

She glanced back up at Eliza-- restful, peaceful, far too content since she wasn’t being tormented by fire. It was all so undeserving.

She stayed down fingers resting on the plug at the socket.

Could she do this?

It felt too right. There wasn’t a shakiness in her hands. There wasn’t the nervousness that one would assume would come. The cable called to her, like the knife from months ago that she dragged across her wrist, told her this was the thing to do.

“I wished death upon you many nights, you know. Wished so many times you were just out of my life. And even when I was finally living alone-- four years ago, can you believe it?-- that wasn’t good enough, because I still had to see you from time to time. I wished you would get into a crash. Perhaps someone would try to assassinate dad, and hit you instead. Or that we lived in 18th century France and you were guillotined. That’d be entertaining. And it seems... I may have finally gotten my wish.”

She yanked the cord.

The hissing of the breathing machine stopped.

All that filled the room was the beep of Eliza’s heartbeat.

Slower.

And slower.

She rose, hand still clutching the cord, eyes wide.

It was happening.

Her chest didn’t move.

The monitor was practically sloping downward.

And finally...

A flatline.

The beep stayed ringing, consistent, long.

Any moment, she expected the door to burst open, medics running to attend. She needed to wait as long as possible. Let it be real.

She bent back down, rushed, shoved the plug back into the socket to let the breathing resume.

Standing up again, Eliza’s chest moved under the carnage of flesh and the clear sheet.

But the monitor did not fluctuate.

“I’ll be happy to see you in hell, mom.”

The door flew open.

Practically a mob of medics flooding in, rushing to the bedside with whatever horrendous array of revival tools they had to help revive her.

She stood back, at their command, their words gone not registering in her ears. Her eyes stayed on Eliza’s disfigured face, seeing her unmoving eyes, her chest still bouncing as if that movement meant life inside still occurred.

Their actions were not visible, a blur in her peripherals, chaos in the room trying to bring back something that had left and all that mattered to Sam was that it was gone.

Her mother was gone.

Her parents were dead.

With a twitch of an eyelid, she smiled, staring off at Eliza’s face, through her face, into nothingness as the medics realized the fruitfulness of their attempts.

And so she turned, moving for the door, the dress trailing after her once again as her heels tapped on the tile, leaving behind a corpse that no longer had its perfectly-manicured ironfist grip on her life.

She was free.

#Self-Para #Self Para #event #event: masquerade #Eliza Blackwood #TW: death #TW: murder #tw: burn victim #tw: burns #tw: burn #i realize a lot of this is kinda unrealistic #and not factually accurate #BUT HEY! It's writing #And I am not a law/medical expert #so we'll see what happens as a result of this #But Sam is now an orphan #A filthy fucking rich orphan at that #any questions or random bitching are always welcome to me

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moonlightreal · 5 years ago

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Winx Club season 8/8

In which we find new things and old things, and I find far too many non-Winx things to reference.

8 Into the Depths of Andros

Ocean! Fishies! An underwater castle glowing with light! Merlumens! They’re all pink, with blonde hair and shell headbands. Valtor voiceovers that this is the “Paradise of Andros, so strong, so filled with light, thanks to the suboceanic star, Gorgo.”

Ok. First, what IS a star in the magic dimension? I suppose “star” has two meanings, one being the traditional mass of incandescent gas around which planets orbit, the other being… uh, any place that lumens have a star core. So stars can be planets, or ON a planet like this star is, or on a moving ship. I wish we had some more specific terminology instead of using the same name for all these different situations! Ok, so star=where there’s lumens. Gorgo doesn’t even provide light in space, since it’s at the bottom of the ocean.

I can’t help thinking of Rainbow Brite and the Star Stealer. That movie was about Spectra the diamond star, a diamond through which all the universe’s light passed. An evil space princess was trying to steal it because diamonds are a girl’s best friend, and the fading of the light made everybody stop caring about things. Obviously this movie made a big impression and I so want to work it in to Mirta’s season 8 story, somehow...

My other question: Merlumens and selkies. Are they related? Do they get along?

Anyway, the merlumens are hangin’ out playing with their fish friends and being cute while Valtor watches from his asteroid, plotting their doom! He gloats that his power has grown, and it seems it has; he created a big all-over image of the lumens instead of the little magic-TV he was using before. But he wants a fish friend too! He conjures a hammerhead shark and morphs it into a big monster shark I’m gonna call a sharkee because maybe someone somewhere will get that reference.

Valtor is interrupted mid-gloat by Obscuro popping out of a portal behind him and hitting him in the back of the head. The little guy is wearing fins and a swim floaty because of course he is.

Valtor regrets his choice of minions and Obscuro complains that he’s bad at swimming.

On Andros, Aisha is practicing a speech while Stella adjusts her dress. It is a gorgeous dress, seafoam green with taffeta and cool chokers and flowers in her hair. She’s going to present this speech at the anniversary of the founding of Andros, but she’s having trouble getting it perfect. The girls are helping her practice.

Nex calls with cheering-you-on emojis and Aisha says, “He’s trying to support me every way he can.”

Aisha continues trying to practice but Nex texts again, then Stella interrupts to say the dress needs flowers, then Nex calls and Aisha tosses the phone ‘cause she’s gotta practice. She leaves her room… and finds Nex in the corridor with flowers and more support, but poor Aisha just needs some quiet!

Nex’s outfit is pretty great too. Moss-green jacket with gold details and a gold cord around the waist. It looks military, or princely. But Nex doesn’t seem to be a prince. We don’t acutally know anything about where he’s from, do we? Just that he was a “paladin” whatever that means in this context, he wasn’t a student at Red Fountain with the others but the season 8 timeshift put him as one of the Specialists on Sky’s team. We can assume Nex and Thoren attended a different school for heroes since they know magical combat but that’s about it.

Aisha brushes past Nex, focused on her speech, and he looks sad but doesn’t go after her.

Meanwhile at Gorgo, staryums attack the underwater star core! Merlumens see them and swim away. Obscurum gloats.

Back at the palace, nobles arrive for the celebration! There’s a pavilion set up outside the palace proper, over what must be a lagoon. Inside is a land platform for the humans and half lake for the mermaids. Queen Ligeia is there in a cool floating shell throne, with a dozen cute mermaids and mermen. Tressa and Nereus do not appear. Maybe they’re on a diplomatic mission somewhere else.

Nervous Aisha approaches the podium where her parents wait. Nobles applaud. Nex and the Winx give her thumbs-up. Aisha begins her speech, and namechecks her parents and Queen Ligeia—and “Dorana, Queen of the Stars.” And there’s little Dorana, floating along.

(Maybe Dorana is to the lumens what Omnia was to the selkies? Some kind of higher form or guiding spirit or something.)

Aisha begins her speech. “I’ve been to space, I’ve seen the stars. But here, on Andros… um...” sigh. She flubs it. King Teredor looks SUPER disappointed. Niobe steps in to help her daughter along, and they get the speech done. Then we find out what else is up: Ligeia’s ocean magic and Dorana’s star magic together can protect Andros from the threat of Valtor. Bloom says he has no chance against the combined magic.

Dorana; “When Valtor showed up my brother Argen suddenly disappeared.”

Hmm! I wonder what could have happened to him!

This is a surprise to the Winx-- it’s news to me too, but since I’m not genre-blind I’m pretty sure I know where Argen went.

Dorana doesn’t want anyone else to suffer the pain of losing someone, so she wants to help. She creates an illusion of, “Gorgo, Star of Andros, a unique star that lights up the ocean. Valtor won’t be able to resist the temptation to steal its light.”

Got that right, Dorana!

The two queens do a cool spell, they spread their arms and both sing a note together, creating a barrier around the star.

But what’s this? Tecna’s got an image of the star on her device and something’s wrong with the barrier! Bloom realizes, “...too late.” Dorana and Ligeia realize their barrier has failed. Twinkle uses her star map to confirm that the barrier is no good since the staryums are already inside!

Aisha: “If Gorgo falls, Andros will plunge into darkness.” But what about the normal sun, in the sky?! How does this wooooork? T_T

Bloom: “That’s not going to happen. We’ll save Gorgo!”

The nobles cheer. :-)

The Winx go outside to a balcony-ish place, giving us a good look at their dresses. they’re all dressed in the same style as Aisha’s, pastels and tulle and flowers, a look that owes something to Onyrix, I think. They’re really good dresses, and as usual I like Aisha and Tecna best because they’re in my favorite colors.

Bloom: “Everyone ready?”

But where’s Twinkle? She’s sitting being sad. She can’t swim! She can’t come along! Flora: “But you do have an important role here, Twinkle. If you came with us, who would stay here and comfort the people of Andros?”

Twinkle: “Me?”

Bloom: “That’s right, you’re the only one who can cheer them up.”

Twinkle flies spirals of joy.

Ok, I really liked this.

Then Nex shows up for some predictable couples drama! He wants to come along underwater but Aisha says she can take care of herself. Nex, to his credit, says, ‘I know that. I want to stay by your side anyway.” and sounds like he means it. Nex transforms his suit with flippers and a facemask and dives in, ending the conversation.

Bloom: “All right girls, there’s only one way down there. Winx, Sirenix!”

I feel the power of the ocean…

More than any other music in Winx, this song goes right through my heart.

Only way to make it better? Make it Italian.

So here’s… shall we call it new sirenix? Or sequin sirenix, since the dolls have sequins? I like that. Sequin sirenix is shall be, since I don’t know what the rest of the fandom is calling it.

I like it. The colors are a little less… whatever made the other sirenix Just A Little Much. But while the shades are nicer, I think the animators were a bit lazy when assigning colors to the girls Aisha has the best palette, turquoise, blue and purple. Poor Stella is stuck in shades of pink and blue, like the designers just gave up on her orange-based color palette, and Bloom shares about the same colors. Tecna and Flora are in the same shades of blue and green while Musa at least gets her traditional magenta and raspberry. But even so, I just like these designs. I also feel like the animators took more care to make it looks like the girls are swimming, rather than just using the same animations for flying but putting them underwater which I felt like they did in season 5. Their HAIR still isn’t animated like it would be moving underwater, but I think that would be really hard to do.

I have feelings about underwater, because it comes close to a show that tangles my heart up even more than Winx, and Winx has been a fandom of sixteen years.

There was no discussion of sirenix being a power they used before and still have, they just go for it. It’s not surprising that they’d still be able to access old powers; it makes sense but it does lay down that bit of worldbuilding. Previously gained powers are not necessarily lost. But do they automatically keep ALL forms or just some? I assume they no longer have Tynix because the fairy animals have moved on, and still having Harmonix would be unnecessary once they have Sirenix. But what about bloomix? Did the Winx return their bits of the Dragonfire when they got Butterflix, or do they still have it?

Also no mention that sirenix now looks different. Maybe they just don’t think it’s worth commenting on while a baddie’s attacking, or maybe the season 8 timeslide means sirenix ALWAYS looked like this.

Anyway. The girls and Nex swim through the lovely violet ocean of Andros, doing the Winx giggle. Then Nex catches aisha for some relationship drama. He asks her what’s wrong and she says it’s nothing. Then aisha says she wanted to get the speech right to impress her parents, but she flubbed it. Next says everyone understands and, “Next time let the others help.”

Wasn’t this Aisha’s Nemesis theme from Wow? Aisha being too self-reliant? At least it’s consistent characterization, I guess.

More swimming, and the sharkee is stalking them! Its shadow falls over the gang swimming in a canyon. That thing’s big! But it’s gone before they can get a good look.

They reach the star, which Flora says is wonderful, and I realize looks just like Castle Elemyn from Bella Sara. But it’s under attack! Winx into action!

But here comes the sharkee! Battle is joined!

Aisha says it’s a creature of darkness so their sirenix powers have no effect. The battle isn’t going well! The girls regroup—and realize Nex is missing.

He’s in some caves full of pink underwater flowers—no, he’s at the star core. How’d he get all that way? But he’s there, watching Obscurum and the staryums chow down on the star core.

Nex: “Hey you! Call off your creatures!”

Dude, you have no backup…

Nex vs Obscurum! Nex pops out his two phantoblade lightsabers and attacks!

Cut to the girls fleeing the sharkee. They zap it with various things but aren’t having much luck. Aisha’s morfix can grab it but nothing else does any good.

Back to Nex and Obscurum! Obscurum of course hops through portals to dodge. Nex calls him a coward. Obscurum zaps Nex from every which way, but… ‘I’ll never give up! Aisha needs me!”

Back with Aisha, she realizes the sharkee is full of dark magic—but they can’t free it from Valtor’s control without their Cosmix powers, which won’t work in water. Aisha gets the idea to lure it into a convenient cave. She’s badass. The other Winx blast the cave mouth, sealing it except for a little hole Aisha swims out through. Success! The shark monster is trapped!

The girls arrive at the core and find Nex getting his butt handed to him. Aisha leaps to protect him with a morfix shield.

Nex: “See, teamwork never fails.”

Aisha: “Sorry I pushed you away before. I know you wanted to help but I was too focused on not disappointing my parents and my people. So… power couple teamup?”

Nex: “I thought you’d never ask.”

These two are cute together. They’re one of the couples I give the thumbs up to.

They lay some hurt on Obscurum and the rest of the Winx blast staryums off the core.

Then Obscurum blasts the ceiling and the cave collapses on Nex! Cliffhanger ending!

#winx season 8 #winx club

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