#she's a cheap fashion queen

[stuccobaby]

kahlopatra headcanons? 🙏

bestieeee

these are gonna be random a f

(college au/i aged em up)

Cleopatra runs cold, Frida runs hot. It's perfect.

yes, they both have their tickets for the Barbie movie. Cleopatra has her outfit planned out (pink pink pink everything) and Frida is very excited to be Cleo's Ken.

Frida thought she had a high tolerance for spicy food but Cleopatra is in a different league. Like she could go on Hot Ones and not even flinch.

but Cleo haaaates Tajin. Frida loves it. She puts it on fruit and Cleo couldn't believe her eyes.

Cleopatra has a cat! (i was picturing a siamese) Frida is lowkey allergic, but she can handle it. But if you thought Cleo was snooty...wait till you meet this cat.

Cleopatra snores. Frida thought it would be cute and quiet but it's actually kinda loud. Frida is contemplating ways to bring this up and survive to see another day.

Frida is an Aquarius! Cleopatra is a Scorpio (not to get in my astrology bag but I think she's a scorpio sun, leo rising and gemini moon. venus in leo or taurus. what do yall think about it.)

I wrote a lot hehe woops.

(TW: weed) Cleopatra is like a 'smoke at parties' kinda girl, whereas Frida smokes often for funsies and as a creativity boost.

(TW: weed) They tried to do a 'take an edible and go to an aquarium' date but Cleopatra got too high and freaked out in the shark tunnel. They'll try again but with an arboretum next time.

Frida can play the guitar. Cleopatra goaded her into playing for her once and folded immediately when she started singing. (at one point, Frida looked up and Cleo was taking off her clothes)

Speaking of, Cleopatra told Frida she signed up to be a model for her art class. Frida did not know she was a nude model. Frida should have guessed. damn it was hard to focus on painting that day

Cleopatra is now Frida's personal fashion consultant. She's a (cheerleader, homecoming queen) part-time model, she has a very keen eye for fashion obvi

When it's cold, Frida wears socks to bed and they argue about it all the time. They also argue about what side of the bed to sleep on (they both want the right side smh).

Frida loves going along with Cleo on her many beauty shop appointments (nails, hair, spa, etc) but won't go into any waxing/threading shop because the technicians start getting twitchy just looking at her. She feels like if she fell asleep, she'd wake up tied to the chair with two eyebrows.

They watch a lot of movies. Cleopatra laments how expensive TVs used to be but loves that they're cheap now because a big screen TV still makes her feel rich and luxurious.

Frida will be the first one to say I love you and it will mess Cleo up a little bit. don't worry tho, they'll talk about it! she's just not used to being loved (saad)

Frida is teaching Cleo Spanish, but all she wants to learn is swear words and dirty talk. it's gonna take a while

Cleopatra is a bug killer, Frida tries to trap and release.

Harriet (Frida's roomie in this AU) was extremely suspicious of Cleo at first ("wasn't she like your nemesis?") but she came around eventually ("enemies to lovers is kinda sexy...")

Frida is currently showing Cleo so many Spongebob episodes, she was sick of her constant references going to waste.

yes, they listen to a LOT of new music together. Frida tries to go in chronological order (2004 music, 2005 music etc), so that Cleo could hear the progression of music sound. (i could go on and on about music but these r getting long already)

Cleopatra is a passenger princess, but mostly because everybody is too scared to get in a car with her at the wheel; she drives like she's playing fucking GTA. (Frida thought people were kidding, but after they went soaring over a downhill speed bump one time, Frida politely took the keys forever).

speaking of GTA, that's Cleo's favorite video game. she enjoys mowing people down, blowing things up, and getting cute new outfits. Frida thinks its a good way for her to indulge her sadistic streak.

Mario Kartin': Frida mains an Orange Yoshi, Cleo goes between Peach and Rosalina (she refuses to make a Mii she thinks they're too ugly to represent her).

They become a different couple when they play mario kart. Frida is really fucking good and Cleopatra can't stand that shit eating grin every time she wins. (cleo would be like that tik tok sound: right hand on the bible, god can strike me down if im lying, that motherfucker's cheating!)

-----

I could write more but i wrote way too much already. y'all would have to ask for part 2. Also... may have snuck my next fic in here teehee.

if anybody wants to use these for art or what have you, go for it (but it better be gooood 😜)

tag and credit me tho so i can see it and be overjoyed

THANKS FOR ASKIN BESTIE!

[crimsonbastard]

Alright, might as well adress the elephant in the room:

- The absolute desecration of Alicent's Character is infuriating. Her straight up surrendering to Rhaneyra and throwing her sons to the wolves?? And betraying her own Father? Alicent HAS her issues with her family but there's no way that she's going to stoop as low as straight up giving them up. And oh, her saying that she was "fond" of Viserys?? Like what?? You mean the man who groomed you?? Put his rot in you and neglected you and your children??? What the actual fuck??? Was this the same woman who attacked Rhaenyra when her son got mutilated?? All of that for what?? Nothing! And what of your Grandson Alicent?? The little boy who was butchered?? Does his death mean nothing??

- Helaena's complete 180. Seriously?? Her guiding Daemon? The man who orchestrated her son's death? I understand Helaena not wanting to fight, and as Queen she has every right to deny Aemond, but her guiding Daemon towards his path?? Seriously?? And since when did her Visions get Lucid enough to pinpoint Aemond's grave?? Atleast Condom and Hiss had the courtesy of Helaena feel something towards her husband when she confronts Aemond about what he did.

- Oh Aemond, literally the only Green who (besides Cole & Daeron) who's fighting for his family. Him trying to force Helaena felt out of character, as, besides his mother it's her he cherishes the most. We see him lash out, that cold calculated mask finally dropping as he starts getting desperate when he lashes out on Sharp Point and it's innocent citizens as well as his sister. He still is that angry boy who lost his eye.

- We've got Rhaenyra openly admitting what Team Black had been denying all along. That for her to ascend, Aegon must be put to the sword.

- Cole finally being vulnerable and showing what's going through that head of his. How he thinks that this war is for nothing, and that whatever ideals he held onto before, have been let go of and that the only thing that keeps him going is Alicent. He knows that chances of him making out of this war are slim but he goes along with it, for her. Him admitting his hypocrisy, and that he has no shame was the cherry on top. A Jaime Parallel.

- Ah yes the Weirwood vision that conveniently removes any daemyra angst later on. Daemon realising how serious the upcoming horrors from beyond the north are, and that Daeneryes cameo is nothing but a cheap attempt by Condom and Hiss, just to:

a) Shoehorn Daenerys to appease Dany Stans

b) Remind the audience of the "divine right" of the Targaryens to rule westeros as only they can "unite" the realm.

c) Completely absolve all the future atrocities comitted by Rhaenyra and Daemon, as it is for the "Greater Good"

d) By doing so, they gave Daemon a convenient excuse to go on his "murder suicide" battle with Aemond other than abandoning his wife for one last girl he groomed, her being Nettles who is cut from the show, so as to not anger the Daemyra stans.

e) It doesn't even matter in the end, as it's Arya who kills the Night King.

- Alyn verbally decimating Corlys for abandoning him and his brother until his legitimate heirs were gone was satisfying to see.

- Aegon wanting to fashion himself as "The Realms Delight" Is interesting. Considering he will go down into the history books as the Rightful King whereas Rhaenyra goes from being "The Realm's Delight" to "Maegor with Teats". Aegon being negatively viewed by the smallfolk this season despite wanting to do good by them (to get their love and approval) whereas Rhaenyra leading innocent people to their deaths (by dragonfire) and watching from atop, and also sending a few "gifts" to the starving smallfolk, she herself being the cause of their starvation, via the blockade. If the writer's don't further fuck up, we might hopefully see the smallfolk shift their perception towards both rulers, with Rhaenyra being finally called "Maegor with Teats" and Aegon being somwhat looked at positively.

- Sunfyre cannot be dead. He's too important. I hope they made Larys mention that just to subvert our expectations.

- We finally get to see Tessarion, and she looks like a recolored Arrax. Hopefully with a bigger budget they'll give her a more fitting look.

[barbiechick]

Yeah, this is terrible, yall.

So i am an eastern euroean girlie and idk maybe we are just not used to spend our money so frivoulosly, so when we do, and its expensive, it better be worth it! This is not it though! 125 dollars is a LOT, even if u devide it by 3 its still 40 dollars per doll, which is still expensive and perhaps americans dont have the same sense of money as we do over here, but i wont let anyone gaslight me into thinking that this price point and this level of cheap for a collectors dolls is ok. Yall can miss me with that.

Ghouluxe ghoulia was 50 dollars and she was serving QUEEN, honestly, the datails: different fabrics, nice accessories, cute fashion pieces, while here we have ugly plastic thingies not even painted, cheap fabric, ugly prints and the 3 of them even have the same fucking earrings, get outta here!

And to think i have to spend another 100 dollars on top for shipping bc mattel wont ship to my country, yeah no thanks.

Mattel really be clowning rn. Im in a lot of eastern europran doll groups and hardly anyone likes them, yet americans do. It seems like americans will eat up anything theyre given. Dissapointing, and its the reason why we continue to have shitty dolls and lack of effort from matrel.

[findafight]

i don't get why robin and eddie clocking each other is so popular. firstly i find it kind of cheap esp since it's usually a set-up for robin and/or eddie being all-knowing arbiters of lgbt knowledge while steve is clueless and dumb and not lgbt enough (despite usually being bi) to partake in this exchange as well. then it's otherwise used to establish an immediate connection between robin and eddie since they are both gay which automatically makes them besties. secondly it doesn't make much sense w what we see of either robin or eddie. like we know robin struggles w social cues and we see that that extends to sexual orientation through her interactions w vickie. also i think she is just not paying that much attention to eddie i must be honest. then w eddie he spends his time campaigning for the stancy revival while steve blatantly stares at his mouth so. i don't think he'd be good at that either. like the irony in this being so common is that steve is the person that does clock someone else on top of being consistently socially and emotionally intelligent and perceptive. idk sometimes i feel like ppl take him not clocking robin as proof he's incapable of it despite him then clocking someone later and being right, and that s3 scene fitting into the broader context of steve being lonely, insecure, and off his game for most of s3 as well as between s2 and s3. tbh missed comedy potential w steve being the one person in that trio that actually knows what's happening.

oooohg yeah i feel you anon. Not to say that all the fics that have these tropes in them are bad! it just. sometimes gets annoying? I don't want people to feel too bad about it but yes agree.

I think it really is used as a way to fast track their friendship. Truly unfortunate that it's often used to make them all knowing queer guides instead of the disaster teenage gays they are.

Robin is a small town lesbian who is only out to one singular person, she does not know anything, let alone vague little queer codes that might be happening. She wouldn't know Eddie was queer for a variety of reasons. She says herself she's not good at reading people! She's also busy worrying about if she's doing something that might out her or make people suspicious of her, so she's not analyzing other people's actions. She does not care about men that aren't Steve enough to pay enough attention to figure out if Eddie is queer or not lol. She can't even figure out if the girl she likes who likes her back is queer when her best friend is telling her. Oblivious icon! open your eyes, queen!!

Eddie had a man he deliberately broke a moment of romantic tension between his love interest by throwing a vest at his face staring at his lips and still pushed him towards said love interest. Sir. what are you doing. and once it's clear stncy isn't happening you know eddie would be like okay. why aren't you dating Robin? hmm? she's cool! and causes Steve to Suffer. (Steve was flirting with Eddie .5 seconds before he started on this please get with the program Eddie!!)

Also think it's silly that people would stereotype Eddie as Queer from how he dresses as though that's not just how a lot of people dressed? long hair was In in the 80s. Metal fashion was there. It also likely had some/a lot of ingrained homophobia in the subculture (as many things did). Sorry Eddie, but I'm pretty sure our boy Brucie did more for the gays than metallica. (Kissing Clarence Clemens Right On The Mouth Many Times On Stage thank you mr. springsteen and mr. clemens sirs.)

Steve's the only one of these three that 1) knows how to flirt 2) knows when someone is flirting with him 3) has consistently demonstrated being emotionally and socially intelligent to observe people (more than arguably anyone else in the series) and 4) has any kind of functioning gaydar. Totally agree that Steve not clocking Robin despite his gaydar is that he was way off his game, insecure, in a funk, pathetic sad meow meow era, and in a weird state of squish-or-crush on Robin, that was pushed towards crush by Dustin but slam dunked into squish by Robin coming out (does that make any sense?)

I truly, truly believe Vickie returned Fast Times paused on 53 minutes and five seconds specifically when she knew Robin and/or Steve would be the ones to rewind it. Why else would she not rewind it? when clearly they knew who had rented it and could potentially out her if they read into it? She was getting vibes from robin and knew that Steve would at least report Back to Robin (I refuse to believe the championship game was the only time stobin gossiped like they did. Vickie knows their shenanigans.) so she decided to be indirect but kinda obvious about it!! And while Robin is denying this Steve has seen the truth, he knows exactly what Vickie is doing. (would be very funny if Steve and Vickie clock each other, and then make eye contact like I know what you are. They deserve to become funky little friends while Steve is trying to get her and Robin together.)

[huramuna]

wine red, tears gold - chapter 5.

king aegon II x baratheon ofc

previous chapter | next

dropping this early cus its my b-day and this is how i celebrated: writing this. so sorry in advance! there is about a 5ish month timeskip in this chapter, so keep that in mind.

word count: 2.2k

please follow & turn on notifs for @huramuna-fics for my fic postings

content: smut, canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence, angst, fluff, arranged marriage, touch-staved aegon, aegon isn't a r*pist in this au but he is still a bad person and has his vices, ofc and aegon need to go to therapy together, justice for jaehaera, awkward sex, kind of a slow burn, infidelity, child loss, vomiting

blue - marina & the diamonds • gold - marina and the diamonds

warnings: rough sex w/ biting, hairpulling (non descript), miscarriage / loss of a child, vomiting, suicidal ideation

Warmth. She had been so snugly pressed to Aegon, her body riddled in hickies and bites, just reveling in his warmth. He smelled so nice, too— mayhaps it was just her cloudy, lust-dumb mind, but she felt so… at peace. As if this was where she was meant to be for once. Lyanna, for the first time, didn’t doubt that maybe Aegon did want her, in some proximity or fashion. 

But then it was cold. She was asleep when he left, but her body noticed the change right away. Curling into herself autonomously, she clutched a pillow in the empty space where her husband had left. 

She deluded herself into thinking that this was some sort of turning point, right? He hadn’t gone out to the Silk Street since their first encounter upon her wardrobe seat, had he? Then with their multiple, raucous sessions the night before— 

When she awoke, he was gone. Lyanna tried to convince herself that he rose early. A quick query to one of the keep’s servants quickly brought the truth to fruition; Aegon had left the Keep late at night, towards his places of habit. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

There was a sting of hurt in the pit of her belly— but surely, he could’ve been going to other places. There are many more night activities in King’s Landing than just whoring, right? 

She found her answer later in the day as she was returning to her solar from a luncheon with some courtiers. Aegon was passing her in the corridor— his eyes were red rimmed, hair a mess. He didn’t smell pleasant like the night before, but of cheap booze and even cheaper, strong scented perfumes. He didn’t even go to the effort to hide the prominent bite marks upon his neck. 

Lyanna hadn’t bitten him the night before. 

As they passed in the hall, their eyes connected. Lyanna had gone her entire day giving him the benefit of the doubt, as she imagined that people were too quick to write off Aegon, too quick to judge. The passion and fervor of him the previous night— surely it wasn’t faked? He… he seemed quite impassioned about it all, just as she— she didn’t misremember the look of warmth in his eyes, unless she was blinded at the time with sheer joy, her brain shutting out the things that might’ve seemed wrong.

The look of pure shame and self-loathing in Aegon’s eyes told her everything she needed to know. 

They didn’t say anything to each other and Lyanna nor Aegon stopped their walk, merely slowed down their gaits to observe. The entire moment felt surreal for the Queen as she took in every minute detail, every piece of evidence from his night out. 

Aegon, in turn, zeroed in on her eyes. The darkest of browns, almost black in their hue— it was so easy to get lost in them, like two huge pools of thick, voided ichor. But they weren’t so all encompassingly dark now, as there was a sheen of wetness upon them like a film. Tears rimmed her lash line, threatening to spill over. 

The times that Aegon has made her cry was certainly outweighing the times he’s made her laugh. 

How very typical of him. Just another thing to add to the list of fuck ups in his life, he thought. He couldn’t even bring himself to apologize. He just kept up his pace, even quickening it. 

Off to ruminate in his agony of his own creation. 

— 

Lyanna was stuck in her melancholies— feeling sickly all the while. And still, something within her, brought to life by their one night of passion, wanted Aegon’s attention. She craved it, no less, like a warrior craves the swing of a blade or a whore craves the tinkling of coin. 

So for the next few moons, she scratched the itch within her, bringing Aegon to her bed by any means necessary. More times than not, it was by igniting his blood with jealousy. Other times, it was by intercepting his nightly traipsing and having him come back to her chambers with a few well placed, and vulgar, words. 

What had started as gentle, soft moments between them spiraled into borderline violent grappling, hair pulling and biting from both sides. Aegon would call her horrible names, enunciating each syllable with a smack to her bottom. Lyanna would bite, scratch and mark every part of him, as a way to tell whatever whores he still entertained himself with to back off. She felt like an animal, pronouncing her territory to other predators. 

She knows it isnt healthy for either of them, bordering on self-destructive, but its best to be empty and fucked than empty and alone, right?

One eve, after they had a particularly tumultuous session. Lyanna’s dress was shredded on the ground, along with her small clothes. Her hair was a mess, strewn at angles unnatural from where Aegon had pulled at it by the fistfuls, skin marred. Aegon, on the other hand, was bleeding from his shoulder lightly where he had insisted that Lyanna bite him with all of the force she could muster. She was still hesitant to outright hurt him, even at his request— but she wished to please him.

Lyanna, nude as the day she was born, crawled into bed— she had pushed him off before he started bleeding onto the sheets— and settled under her heavy blanket. She watched as Aegon, nude in turn, muttered to himself and dabbed at his shoulder with a piece of her shredded clothing. Something inside of her felt hollow, looking upon the scene, the massacre they had made of themselves, of their marriage. It made her want to vomit. 

Feeling bile rise in her throat, she streaked from the covers to an empty chamberpot, throwing up the contents of her stomach. It hurt, her whole body convulsing as the very essence of her was ripped from her in an acidic, foul tasting mess. Tears fell down her cheeks from her exertions— and her emotional turmoil.

Aegon, all the while, was unphased. He peered at her momentarily before uncorking a new bottle of wine and proceeding to take a healthy swig from it. “Are you quite done?” he asked, breaking the silence. 

“… I… think so,” she murmured in return, wiping away the snot, tears and saliva from her face. Her body instantly ached, aided by Aegon’s heavy hand upon her bottom just twenty minutes before. “I need… water.” 

“No water. We only have wine— unless you’d like to have a maid come to tend to you? I’m sure she would appreciate the mess you’ve made here.” 

“The mess I’ve made?” she coughed, her eyes widened with disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“You’re the one who begged me to fuck you instead of going to the whorehouse, wasn’t it?” he bit back, his voice laced with a venom. 

“You make me feel like a whore��� no, less than a whore. You would fuck a whore without being spurred.” Lyanna squabbled back, her stomach doing flips again. She sank to the floor against one of the walls, her back creaking down against it. Holding the chamberpot against her, she stared up at Aegon. “What… What is so wrong with me, Aegon? What is so wrong with me that I have to beg you to fuck me? Why… why?” she was murmuring frantically now, shaking her head. “Am I that ugly?”

The king turned to her, tugging on a silken robe that he had left there the night before. “You… just aren’t my type, Lyanna.” he whispered in return, looking down into the now half empty wine bottle. “No amount of jealousy, nor filthy things you say to me will change it. I don’t find you attractive, nor do you pull at my heartstrings in any particular way,” he paused, swirling the bottle. His brow creased, as if it pained him to continue to speak. “I’m merely fulfilling my duty.” 

Duty. Duty. Those words stung, sending a wave of pure pain and shame through Lyanna, as if a dozen bees were making their home within her bones. They vibrated against the marrow, calling more bile from her stomach into the chamberpot. Gods, it fucking hurt. She knew what they were doing wasn’t healthy, but it had started somewhere soft, didn’t it? That was all… duty to him. 

She felt increasingly faint, feeling too much all at once. Her breaths were thready, not coming out right and she couldn’t see through the mist of tears blinding her. Somehow, she was able to speak. “So… when you go to the Silk Street…” she sobbed, “What type of woman do you fuck? What is it that I am not?” her voice was tinged with a concoction of despair and poison, her now bloodshot eyes half-lidded. 

Aegon was silent for a while— Lyanna had almost thought that he left— before he let out a sigh, downing the last of the wine. He hissed as the alcohol burned his throat, as if feeling some semblance of the bile that had scalded his wife’s throat in turn. “What type of women?” he echoed, chuckling lowly. “Any woman that isn’t you, Lyanna. It doesn’t matter, they don’t have to beg me, unlike you,” he had a wicked smile on his face and he didn’t look like himself— no, he looked like a caricature, violet eyes wide and wild. “How would the court react if they knew? If they knew that their lovely rabbit queen had to beg her husband, a known whoremonger, for sex? It would have to be the most hilarious thing they’d ever heard, mayhaps I’ll tell it to my next woman at the brothel.” 

She felt numb. A prickling numbness spread through her extremities as she stared down into the bucket of her spew.

It was pathetic, wasn’t it?

She wasn’t exactly sure how long she’d been sitting there for, staring. It felt like she wasn’t really in her own body, as if her life had spiraled into some dark dream.

It must’ve been hours, as when she snapped from her fugue state— Aegon was gone. And she was sitting in a small pool of her own blood, leaking from between her legs. 

—

The look of Lyanna’s face when he had said those terrible things— Aegon would likely never forget. 

It was reminiscent of Helaena’s pale visage for weeks after Jahaerys was slain. Like a white, shrouded specter, flitting through the walls without any sense of purpose or drive. A ghost stuck inside their own body. 

He laid on the pile of pillows in the brothel, some whore latched to his cock, and two more on either side of him. He was nursing his second bottle of wine of the night, the ladies urging him to drink more and more so that he could pass out and they’d go through his pockets. 

Aegon’s addiction to the darker sides of life started as an outlet for pleasure. More wine made his stomach warm, made him jovial. More women than he could count had been on his cock, milking him for all he was worth. Gods, it felt good— to just be an epicenter of hedonism, an apex of debauchery and sin just for the pure thrill and act of it all. 

Things changed, of course. After the war. The things that gave him pleasure before now felt like too much— to a point where it pained him. But he relished the pain in a way to where it became punishment. 

Punishment for everything he’d done, everything he hadn’t done— when he drank, he saw their faces. 

Helaena, Aemond, Daeron, Jaehaerys, Maelor, Rhaenyra, Daemon, Jaecerys, Lucerys, Joffrey, Rhaenys, Criston— 

They stared at him blankly, as if expecting something from him, when he had nothing to give. He’s never had anything to give. He was stuck in a living hell— if not for Jaehaera and mayhaps his mother, he would’ve thrown himself from the ramparts like Helaena did. This was his punishment, for all their deaths. 

He couldn’t allow himself to have anything good. And Lyanna… she was good. Good and pure and he was fucking tainting her, pulling her down to his level of disgusting, animalistic debauchery. He had to push her away somehow before it was too late, before she became soulless and as empty as him.

His head was foggy as he pushed the girls off of him. “Get off of me, fuckin’ whores,” he slurred, getting up with wobbly legs, hand planted flat on the wall. He heard a commotion slither through the brothel, until the door flew open. 

‘Twas his grandsire and his loyal Kingsguard hound. Aegon narrowed his gaze. “The fuck do you want?” he spat, leaned against the wall with his softening cock in his hand— the whore had smeared her rouge lipstick all over it. 

“By the Seven,” Otto muttered. “Where is your shame, boy?” 

“It died with the rest of my family, grandsire. I suppose I have you to thank for it.” 

“Me? I can’t— no. There are more pressing matters than your filthy self-loathing.”

“And what could be so pressing? I am quite busy, you know— I’m due for another whore in just five minutes.” 

Otto’s brow furrowed, his face softened. The look on his grandsire’s face scared the hell out of him— he never looked so sorrowful, not since… 

“Jaehaera? Mother? Are they alright?” 

“Yes. They’re alright,” Otto paused. “Your wife. Lyanna. She’s… had a miscarriage. They aren’t sure if she will survive.” 

“My… wife?” 

“They say she was five moons along— the baby came out with wings and scales. ‘Twas a son,” Otto said, “Lyanna… said his name was Aeron. For Aemond and Daeron."

A son?

[chaosgremlinmunson]

April fools?...🫣😳

Minors dni, smutty funny content ahead, 18+ only please!

Eddie had a plan. He was sure it was going to either be hilarious or he was about to die by either Robin Buckley or Steve Harrington’s hand by the end of the day, but he had a plan. First thing was first though, he had to get Chrissy on board, and that, he was sure, was about to be a challenge. However, as luck would have it she also thought it was a great idea. Well, she thought he was hiding the eggs in the appropriate room, but hey, what she didn't know wouldn't hurt right? Right? Ok, so maybe his platonic soulmate might also kill him, but no one could ever say Eddie Munson didn't commit to the bit.

He strolled into melvads on Friday morning grabbing bags of cheap plastic eggs, and snickered when he saw glitter as well, thought why not and tossed it in his cart as well. When he approached the counter the teenage cashier just looked at him for a moment, rolled her eyes and rang him up. He bought a couple disposable cameras as well, and headed back to his van making his way to his and Chrissy's apartment. When he came in she was sitting in the armchair, near her leg was a couple bags from their favorite fetish shop out in Indy and she grinned at him.

“You think Robin will finally get the clue I'm into her after her Easter gift?” She twirled her hair around a finger, and reached into her own bag laying out a baby blue corset and pointed to his bag, “don't worry I got the things you wrote down for yours.”

Eddie laughed, coming to sit beside her kissing her temple, “I think if anything, she's definitely going to have some thoughts after this.”

((smut under the cut))

They made a night of it going full on fashion show, boudoir shoot. Eddie trusted Chrissy for the more exposed photos, he wrapped himself in nothing but a sunshine yellow ribbon, accentuating every curve, and giving a full view to the thick swollen present he wanted Steve to have most of all.

The photos were developed that weekend, a friend owing him a favor, asking no questions, and Eddie got set to stuff the eggs. Half with photos, the other half glitter bombs. He waited for Tuesday when they'd have their weekly movie night, the one night they all collectively had a scheduled day off and came to Steve's and while Steve showered he got busy hiding the eggs around the house. He had practiced acting innocent when he was anything but, so no one was any the wiser when they all gathered. Robin found the first egg as she and Chrissy went to sit on the loveseat.

Robin looked at the egg confused for a moment before opening it, falling sideways while screeching and throwing the egg at Eddie's head. Steve came rushing over, leaned down to pick up the egg and his face went crimson seeing Eddie in a leather harness and assless chaps. He gulped and looked up at Eddie, and walked back to the kitchen to grab their drinks and then screeched himself, finding another egg Eddie had hidden.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” He said running out and handing the egg straight to Chrissy, refusing eye contact. She looked down to see the photo she's taken riding her toy in the corset, her face going red in embarrassment before standing up and tackling Eddie straight to the floor.

“Edward Nathaniel Kristof Munson! You said they would be hidden in their rooms and only Robin would see me, and that I would win my Birdy! You lied, you, dramatic, overgrown, wet cat! I'm burning your leather chaps, and your new yellow sparkle plug!” Chrissy had him pinned her hands gripping his hair not realizing the absolute bombshell she just dropped as Eddie yelped.

“Chris! Chrissy-bee, love of my life, queen of the world, most beautiful and wonderful best friend of mine, I did it for April fools! She still got to see! And at least this way you know she's going to see it!” He was wiggling under her trying to get away.

“I'm going to put bleach in your shampoo, I'm going to replace all your records with pop music! I'm going to tell Steve about the scrapbook!” She was screeching at him, her tiny frame hid how strong she really was and Eddie was starting to regret this idea. Then he realized, shit, they're still in the living room. All of this was said in front of both of their crushes. Dear God in heaven he did not think this through, at all. Chrissy seemed to come to a conclusion at the same time as Eddie did because they just made eye contact and both stared eyes wide before standing up slowly looking at the floorboards. Disaster gays, that's what they were. Jesus H Christ, Eddie just wanted to disappear and pretend this hadn't happened at all, but clearly now it was way too late. Steve grabbed his hand and his eyes went wide again as he led him into his room away from Robin and Chrissy, he pushed Eddie onto the bed and climbed into his lap pulling Eddie's chin up to look him in the eye.

“You couldn't just tell me the normal way huh? Had to be as dramatic as possible, had to be a little riot and get the blood pumping?” Steve emphasized the last bit by rolling hips down into Eddie's lap as he gasped, “I should make you wait for it. I should punish you for being such a bad boy and showing off. No one but me should have seen you that way.” He nipped Eddie's neck whispering into his skin, “As a matter of fact, I am. Robin is going to yours with Chris, and you Eddie, are going to go around this apartment and get every. Single. Egg. And you're going to open each one so that your photos end up only for my eyes, and Chrissy's will be set in Robin's room. Then you're going to clean my mess you make. And if you do a good enough job I might just let you have a treat.” He licked up the side of Eddie's face who shuddered and nodded, his hands gripping Steve's hips.

Steve slid off his lap and watched Eddie, an eyebrow raised in expectation before Eddie moved to start gathering everything. He opened every one over the trash, that way glitter didn't get anywhere and separated the photos like Steve asked. He rushed around cleaning the house, leaving everything as immaculate and clean as Steve typically had it and stood in the living room his hands clasped behind his back as Steve made his way through the house checking everything was done to his standard. When he came back to where Eddie stood he looked him over for a moment.

“On your knees.” He commanded and Eddie fell straight to his knees, thankful for the plush carpeting under his legs. His mouth was already watering as he looked up at Steve waiting for his next command, “open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

Eddie rushed to comply and Steve placed his fingers into Eddie's mouth who immediately sucked them in as Steve inhaled shakily still keeping control, he reached other hand up to Eddie's mouth and brushed his fingers over his cheek.

“Was this what you needed? Something to shut you up, make you sink? Fall apart slowly?” He growled, he moved his hands up to Eddie's hair tugging at the strands before pulling him up to his feet and crashing their lips together. “Strip.”

Eddie hurriedly pulled his shirt off, he tripped over his pants but still rushed to get undressed and stood before Steve again who came up in front of him before making his way slowly around Eddie appraising him.

“You're doing so good for me. Such a good boy when you want to be, hmm?” He ran a hand up Eddie's thigh cupping his ass before smacking it once, “This what I need to do for you? Tell you what to do?” Eddie's eyes were fluttering and he was leaking down onto the carpet.

“I can be good for you, only for you. Please, Steve, please.” Eddie panted his hips quivering trying not to rut against the air.

“Do you think you've earned it?” He leaned into Eddie's space whispering in his ear tugging his hair again, “Do you think you deserve me to touch your pretty little cock yet?” Eddie whimpered, he knew he wasn't small but Steve being mean was making his skin light up in the most delicious ways.

“Please, I can earn it. I can be so good for you Stevie. Please, please, just tell me what to do.” Eddie whined.

“Bend over.” Eddie bent over the back of the couch where Steve had led him. “Use this, and open yourself up for me. Don't come until I say you've earned it. Be my good girl.”

Eddie keened high in his throat and got to work opening himself up in front of him, he arched his back and after a few moments was shaking, Steve pulled his hand away to look at his progress and put two of his own thicker longer fingers inside of him. Eddie screamed his name, his head whipping back and arching into the touch.

“So you can be good.” He said moving his fingers in and out quickly, just as he felt him clamping down close to release he stopped, all Eddie heard was the zipper of his light blue jeans and the schlick, schlick, noises of his pumping himself before he buried himself to the hilt bringing Eddie up against his chest, he placed a hand over his throat not squeezing, just resting and bite the junction just under his ear, “Ride me like a good girl Eds. Show me how badly you want it.”

Eddie groaned rolling his hips back against Steve as he felt him all around him, “fuck Stevie, I love you, fuck I love you.”

“I know Eds, I love you too. Now ride my cock like the whore you tried to be in your little photo shoot.” He squeezed his neck softly sucking his earlobe into his mouth rolling to meet his thrusts.

“Steve please, I'm so close, can I come please. Please, sir, please, please, please.” He begged, Steve growled and bit his neck, before slamming into him harder.

“Come on my cock, don't touch yourself.” He panted his rhythm getting sloppy but harder.

Eddie cried out clamping down hard on him, come painting across the back of the couch over the quilt Eddie had bought him for his birthday recently and Steve wasn't far behind.

As they came down Steve still holding Eddie in his arms as he softened he kissed over Eddie's neck, “You're still a little shit. But God, do I love you.” Steve breathed in between kisses, “I want you to be mine. Officially.” He said turning Eddie to face him.

“Stevie, I've been yours for longer than you've known.” He leaned and kissed his lips, “Happy Easter baby.”

[theoverlookedoneedits1997]

Out of Mind, Out of Sight Fashion Part Three

Cordelia’s ‘May Queen’ outfit: 10/10

I absolutely love this dress. I think it is so beautiful. It doesn't get enough attention. I would want to wear this dress every day. She's gorgeous. An icon. A queen.

Buffy’s race car’ outfit: 8/10

This is nice. It's a bit more... i don't want to say grunge because it's not really, but for her it's leaning that way. I always loved how versatile her style is. She is multitudes.

Xander’s ‘peep show’ outfit: 7/10

I like a good vintage ad, but I'm not crazy about the peep show theme. I like the layered tee shirt and long sleeve, it's very high school. The jeans and sneakers are good.

Willow’s ‘dungaree’ outfit: 7/10

She's so cute. She always rocks the overalls. The red shoes are cute and match well with the top.

Cordelia’s ‘charity work’ outfit: 7/10

I like this. The red is a great colour on her. I think that the darker colours that she's wearing now contrast nicely with the light colours she wore in the beginning of the episode. I feel like it's a nice nod to the fact that things have changed for her, though not completely. For one thing, she now knows about the supernatural. (Which she accepted pretty easily and feel like we don't acknowledge that enough). It also hints at her changing feelings toward the scoobies, which is also supported by her show of gratitude. I like that this episode ends this way. I think it would be too cheap for Cordelia to completely change her ways and reject social hierarchies after once incident. I think it is much more satisfying and true that she reveals her fear of being alone and the hardships of popularity and doesn't change right away.

[15-lizards]

Hello! I am a big fan of your hcs of fashion in Planetos. I was wondering if you had anyone for Maegor's reign and his six wives. We are all crazy for our girl Rhaena the lesbian, but i Wonder, how do you imagine Alys Harroway and Tyanna of Pentos's fashion? Alys gives me the vibes that she was quite never prepared to be Queen, so when she became one, her fashion was between showy but... cheap in some way? disastrous if that makes sense?

Now this is some good shit

Ceryse Hightower, Maegor’s first wife, was said to be “shrewish” which I take as her being a relatively modest young girl and becoming a pious older queen, shying away from anything attention catching after years of suffering under Maegor’s wrath. Her fashion was always loose and covering, leaving nothing but her hands and face exposed. A generally unassuming and forgettable queen. She was the scorned Catherine of Aragon to…

…Alys’ Catherine Howard. An innocent younger woman who could give the king sons, and is thus thrust into the role of queen, which she is wholly unprepared for. She is a young girl who was probably so excited to be the envy of all of Westeros, and wanted to buy the most expensive and ostentatious clothing she could. After their exile in Pentos, she is even more inspired by all the decoration on the locals clothing, and continues to dress in a showy, overcompensating way, up until her death

I am taking a marker to the Orientalist view of Tyanna and scribbling it all out. She wasn’t walking around like an evil seductress in one sheer layer of gauze she was decked out in fine fabrics, layers and layers of satin and silk and soft linen in order to create detailed skirts and soft shawls. Her rise to power is very evident through her clothing, because no former bastard courtesan would be dressing like one once they rose through the ranks.

[vgperson]

Vocaloid Highlights: April 2023

No foolin', she IS the star. Highlights Archive

========== Stand-Outs ========== April Star Toe Loop Cheap Property King Queen Jack Dance Samsa Heart-Fluttering Star☆Land! Nero Misfortune All Ameri A Brief History of Us Gourami Kiss Spring Express Train Unclear Wisdom Requiem Startling Dystopia Kotonoha Dance Da-Da-Da-Dance Strobe Caster Euphobia Record of Exile Simulcaster Know Misery Rain Shelter Babel Obscured Mad Head Worm Open Eyes Lost in Void

========== Worth Your Time ========== Anomaly You-Colored Sky Non-Inevitable Greed Gazer One Day At A Time Ms. Dummy Insomnia Meaningless Music FROM A TREASURE BOX On a Night of Red Ruin Be The MUSIC! Closing the Distance to You Absolute Status Quo Keeping Imitation in the Mirror Burnit!! Plant Human MAGIC CITY NIGHT Diva In Praise of Youth Apple and Pomegranate Retro Future Being Dream Dancer Rainy Noise Words Are Longing To Get Out Happy End Konpeito and Love Horoscope Let Me See Water Space Ultramarine Let's Die Together With the Piano After It Breaks You Don't Listen To People, Huh Fleeting Eternity RED Final Correspondence Muddy Bouquet Demo Song Dream Girl I'm Home Haustier Conspiracist I Just Can't Live SUSHI-GO-ROUND Destruction Girl The Same Outcome Gerbera Lost Forever Impurity save to heart Aster Stop the HICCUP Midnight Railroad Crossing Last Order Spring Haze, Clouding in Windstorms If Life Has a Weight Happy Creator Te-Te-Te Metamorphose Lost City Girl Love and Sakura are Moments. Season's Cheeks and Wonderland Night Walk Gold Prize Rainy Raine-chan '89 Da Da Dawn Our Experiment Sound of Spring's Departure Trash Can Search Climber Wind Sprint Won't Kill Divine Possession Parallel White Clouds Lethal Pervert Waiting in the Sea Sorrow's Pocket Nothing to Sell But Kindness Light Blue Damage Fashion Poor Loser Gymnastics #1 Seriously Sick Blossom Scar PAREIDO (Parade) Anaphylaxis X-Mark Batter Your Point of View The Day I Learned Love PLUG→OUT Labyrinth Lamentin' Bein' Sick (Special Version) Reminiscence Poetry Vanity L Violet Refrain & Remind Round and Round and Under Teto-Teto-Toteto Monologue The Day's End Boiling Isol-ization (2023 ver.) Beyond Sleep, It Doesn't Rain. You said you love me

[just-animaxiz]

Sylvia: Here are some of my teachers!

This is Ms. V, she's from my Botany class. Despite my grades there, she's very sweet and understanding.

Mint: Awww! She sounds like a kind person!

Sylvia: Well... I don't think some of the Monstrous Venus Flytrap experimental pets she kept would say the same. Granted, they tried to eat some of the students.. Myself included. Here's her letter!

Sylvia! I'd heard that not only you inherited your uncle's shop, but you won 5 times in Rafta's Potion Competition Tournament! Congratulations, dear! I would love to see it, but some of these naughty critters tried to run away from tax fraud! Ugh! If I have my paycheck soon, I'll plan a vacation trip there! Have fun~!

Sylvia: Oh! And this is Mr. Stines - He's in charge of the Experimentation section, which means he tests if the potions are efficient enough to work depending on their progress.

Xid: That's quite a lot of bling for someone so serious.

Sylvia: He likes to... Experiment with fashion too... Which gives half of the school either headaches or impressions. His favourite is the Old Gothic + Steampunk mix, which really works well, until he got blown up by one of the explosions from the potions.

Hello, Sylvia! How's it like in Rafta? Too expensive? Too cheap? Never been there but there's quite some good styles! Nevermind that though - How's the potions? Are they as good as your college ones? The Masterworks quality is hard to achieve, but it's worth when you do your worth! Anyways, gotta run - I need to try this Disco + Jungle look for next semester! Don't use Quantum Crystals as Fuel - THEY'LL EXPLODE!

Sylvia: ....

Boss Finn: And I thought I got a creepy grin.

Sylvia: Mx. Crow is the ONLY scariest substitute I'd ever encountered, with their long neck and creepy gaze... Not only that, but their cryptic words sink like venom whenever they talk to any of us, stressing us out.

Sylvia. I'd heard of Rafta, conquered by a witch-queen only to be 'defeated' by a scoundrel of heroes. An average story like always, but I wish my happy shivers came back on the part they all died. Well most of them. That blue-eyed Robin character defeating MAEven. Tell him to watch his back, or else something will creep up again~ Just kidding~........... Am I?

Sylvia: Damn it! Something tore apart Professor Calypso's picture! It's a bad luck thing... Whenever his face comes up on every frame, there's always something blocking it or it mysteriously shreds a piece.

Quinn: From a glimpse of him, I can see he's wearing a mask over a wrap?

Sylvia: I don't know much, only heard rumors of why and how. But if it not were for him being my homeroom teacher, then I would've never passed my college... Oh! Here's his letter!

Dear Sylvia,

I am writing this to you from The Gallant Tower, where the stars are now aligned to The Adventurer. It reminds me of you, and I hope you have a wonderful life in Rafta. How was it? Did you make any friends? Any connections?

I'd heard your uncle is actually alive, which is a relief and concern. You might need to detail me more on that.

And you not only succeeded on paying the debt, but you'd won in a tournament five times, making yourself popular in public. I am more than proud at your growth, and must advise you to keep your chin up even at the darkest of times. Things might come soon, and a trusty hand will need your aid for it, so you must use the right cards for the best advantage.

Oh, and Raven wanted to say hi.

HI SYLVIA!

Sylvia: Raven's his daughter... I think she's turning 18 soon!!

[donnyclaws]

i absolutely love Spent Pension and Tomghast, would you be willing to share a little more about them?

YES OFC they've been taking up my brain space I'd love to chat abt them. They're still being fleshed out rn and thr focus is on their drag, material, fashion and performance

Spent is a pageant queen. Very classic comedy cross dresser early drag race. She's been famous for a while and is a very experienced and established queen in the setting. She'd mostly either do comedy, hosting or numbers that run off her stage prescense and comedy, instead of tricks or flips ect. Because she is so established she does feel she has an authority on drag, been around the block, had the experiences, managed to succeed and feels that newer queens have it easier / aren't as well formed because of that. I'm sure she'd have plenty of drag kids, maybe even grand kids, that authority often translates into her giving pointers and guidance to others so taking ppl under her wing was bound to happen. Her drag itself is expensive but vintage, lots of vegas showgirl, pageantry, feathers, stones and pinks. She's obviously inspired by Rupaul in concept but in practice it's more Dame Edna and the old woman from aristocrats

Tomghast is a disabled and chronically ill drag monster. They're particularly inspired by alt drag artists like Abhora and Orkgotik. All my alt designs here are meant to subvert certain standards around bodies or performance that Drag Race has set, and also represent ideas and material that I resonate with. Tomghast doesn't lipsync in performances, instead their routines are character performances where they crawl around and groan and attack the audience. Inhuman movement and silhouette is important for them, so there's a lot of almost sculptural feeling to how they design their drag. Also unconventional material, one look I need to design for them is one that's stitched out of various cheap rubber Halloween masks. Lots of reclaiming inhumanity and animal identity. Also want to lean into stage show puppet construction just to further push really out there silhouettes. Also didn't put this on the moodboard but I keep thinking about Ghost freak from Ben 10 for them as well LMAO.

[justforbooks]

Iris Apfel was finally recognised as a great, original fashion stylist in her 80s, when the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum in New York had a sudden gap in its 2005 exhibition schedule. Many curators knew Apfel, who has died aged 102, as a collector stashing away clothes, especially costume jewellery, both couture-high and street-market-low, so the institute asked to borrow some of her thousands of pieces.

When Apfel wore them herself, dozens at a time in ensembles collaged fresh daily, they had zingy pzazz, so she was invited to set up the displays. There was no publicity budget, and her name was modestly known only in the interior decor trade, yet the show, Rara Avis: Selections from the Iris Apfel Collection, became a huge success after visitors promoted it online. It toured other American museums, changing exhibits en route because Apfel wanted her stuff back so she could wear it.

Apfel’s grandfather had been a master tailor in Russia; her father, Samuel Barrel, supplied mirrors to smart decorators; her chic mother, Sadye (nee Asofsky), had a fashion shop. They lived out in rural Astoria, in the Queens borough of New York, where Iris was born.

As a child, her treat was a weekly subway trip to Manhattan to explore its shops, her favourites the junk emporia of Greenwich Village. She was short, plain and, until her teen years, plump, but she had style; and the owner of a Brooklyn department store picked her out of a crowd to tell her so. During the Depression all her family could sew, drape, glue, paint and otherwise create the look of a room, or a person, on a budget of cents – the best of educations.

She studied art history at New York University, then qualified to teach and did so briefly in Wisconsin before fleeing back to New York to work on Women’s Wear Daily. Furniture and fabrics were in short supply during and after the second world war, and Iris began to earn by sourcing antiques and textiles; if she could not find it, she could make or fake it cheaply.

In 1948 she married Carl Apfel, and they became a decorating team: he had the head for business and she the eye. Unable to find cloth appropriate to a period decor, Iris adapted a design from an old piece and had it woven in a friend’s family mill; she and Carl then set up Old World Weavers in 1952, commissioning traditional makers around the globe.

Photographs and home-movie footage from the next four decades showed Apfel, adorned with elan, haggling for one-off items in souks, flea markets and bric-a-brac shops. She is the most decorative sight in each shot, her ensembles put together with complex cadenzas atop an underlying, tailored, structure– they are like jazz – not a statement, but a conversation.

Apfel was the last of those 20th-century fashion exotics who presented themselves as installations. Although she wore a priest’s warm tunic to the White House (President Richard Nixon underheated the place), plus armfuls of cheap African bracelets and thigh-high boots, she was not an exhibitionist like the Marchesa Casati, and, with her vaudevillian comic timing, was far funnier than the imperious Vogue editor Diana Vreeland.

Also, she never ever bought full-price: her many rails and under-the-bed suitcases of couture were sale-price samples, chosen for their cut, fabric, skilled craftwork and colour dazzle (“Colour can raise the dead”). She might wear them over thrift shop pyjamas, or under a Peking Opera costume, with hawsers of necklaces atop. Money could not buy personal style, she said, prettiness withered, beauty could corrode the soul. All that really mattered was “attitude, attitude, attitude”.

Old World Weavers discreetly refurbished the White House under nine presidents, as well as grand hotels and private houses, before the Apfels sold the company in 1992. They retired to a quiet life in their apartment on Park Avenue, New York, its decor an extension of Apfel’s outfits (bad garment choices were cut up for cushions), and in a Palm Beach holiday home where the Christmas decoration collection stayed up all year round, along with cuddly toys and museum-class folk art. Clothes shopping, and the improvisation of an outfit, became Apfel’s daily ritual, as cooking might be to a gourmet.

But after the Met show, and a book, Rare Bird of Fashion (2007), Apfel was back in as much full-time employment as she could manage in her 80s and 90s (she had a hip replacement because she fell after stepping on an Oscar de la Renta gown). She was cover girl of Dazed and Confused, among many other publications, window display artist at Bergdorf Goodman, designer and design consultant – superb on eye-glasses; she wore large, owl-like, frames to stylise her aged face into a witty, unchanging, cartoon.

She took seriously her responsibilities to fashion students on her course at the University of Texas, teaching them about imagination, craft and tangible pleasures in a world of images.

Her career lasted – nothing was ever too late: in 2018, Iris Apfel: Accidental Icon, a book of memoir and sound style advice; in 2019, a contract with the model agency IMG; and last year, a beauty campaign for makeup with Ciaté London. The documentarian Albert Maysles trailed her for Iris (2014), filming this “geriatric starlet” – her term – as she dealt drolly with new high-fashion friends, or laughed at an “Iris” Halloween costume (glasses, a ton of bangles).

She watched as a storage loft of her antique treasures was listed in lots for sale, and as white-gloved assistants from museums that had begged a bequest boxed up her garments; she still had, and wore, the shoes from her wedding. All things, she said, were only on loan in this world, even to collectors. The point was to enjoy them to the full before bidding them good-bye.

Carl died in 2015.

🔔 Iris Barrel Apfel, decorator and fashion stylist, born 29 August 1921; died 1 March 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[mywebfoot]

In Every Winter Night, Part 4 (Marry My Husband Fanfic)

Author's note: Don't read this in the office. Really. Don't. Part 4 of 4.

--

Ji Hyuk

In the car, Ji Won sat quietly in the passenger seat. The day was over, and they were crossing the long bridge south, headed home. The highway lights passed over her rhythmically, sweeping over briefly before going dark again.  Ji Hyuk glanced over occasionally, drawn by the high line of her nose, and the exquisite shape of her lips.

He'd always thought she was beautiful, but as her confidence and assurance had grown she became regal - a queen of her own destiny, wrenching victory where others would lie defeated. He’d been attracted to her before, for her protective, nurturing side. But this, this fiercer side, was new. In recent weeks she had fundamentally changed, no, morphed, tearing her way out of old skin, to emerge like some sleek creature prone to laying quietly while hiding vicious fangs.

It made him weak in the knees. 

He knew his feelings had left like, and love a long time ago, and was dangerously close to full on worship already. 

Like this evening, at the all-team meeting. Ji Won had been killing it with her presentation, developing her proposed marketing strategy with layer after layer of data, anticipating objections and pushing back with iron-clad logic that showed she had already considered the pitfalls. He knew he sounded like an all-out nerd, admiring the genius of her analyses, but a part of him would always be the guy with the thick glasses and the cheap haircut. 

And this was despite being turned on all day by the naughty idea she had planted in his mind. 

Speaking of which, his heart had nearly stopped when, about 10 minutes into the presentation, she had paused. Then she had looked him in the eye, and said, “It’s quite warm in here, did someone turn up the thermostat? Give me a second while I take off this jacket.” His eyes had widened and words he could not say rushed through his mind, stomped screeching brakes and ended up a steaming 4-lane pileup in the middle of his brain. Which then proceeded to melt as her hands reached up to peel her jacket back and off. He couldn’t help it, his eyes went right to her breasts. 

Or… where her breasts would have been if they had not been behind some kind of …band? Ji Hyuk knew little of women’s fashion, but whatever she was wearing under her white shirt, it had no straps. Instead, like a censorship smudge, the pale material slashed across her torso, redacting her body safely and snugly away from any prying eyes, including his. He looked back up at her laughing eyes. 

He had nearly had a heart attack, and there she was laughing at him. He wanted to end the meeting right there and drag her off somewhere to smack her pert behind for the sheer torture she had put him through today. Speaking of which, he glanced over at her again, seated in his passenger seat, once again bundled in all the layers that winter dictated.

“Did you enjoy it, half-killing me today?” 

Ji Hyuk glanced at her face, and saw the rueful smile. “Maybe a little.”

His eyes turned back to the road. “It seemed like a lot more than 'a little',” he teased.

He heard the rustle of her moving, and from the corner of his eye he saw her unbuttoning her coat. 

“Too warm?”

“Yes.”

Something in her tone made him glance over. 

Then he gasped. He white-knuckled the steering wheel and somehow steered them across two lanes to the safety of the rode shoulder. An offended horn blared past, the driver flipping them off. Their car came to a shuddering, jerky stop as his foot spasmed on the brake.  

“Ji Won-sshi” was all he could say. His eyes were glued to the front of her shirt, where the chill air had made her nipples thrust into the placket of her silky shirt.  The material clung, and he learnt that she had slightly up-tilted breasts, with a generous undercurve. She was perfect.

“Touch me. Please,” she whispered, “- I..” Her voice shook, but her eyes remained trained on his. “I need you to touch me. You promised me it would be this week and all I did was think about how it would feel if you would just put your hands here.  All week, the slightest touch would make me hot, and I couldn’t stand it any more. So I wore the the tube-top today, just to have a thicker barrier than my bra.  But just now I took it off and-” and then she moaned from the heat of his hand.

He had cupped her. It was a very public area, and he wanted to protect her from prying eyes, but he couldn’t deny her, not when she was pleading for his touch. With shaking fingers, his left hand covered the luscious curve of her right breast, gently petting her. Experimentally, he squeezed, wanting to know how her flesh would give under his fingers. The car filled with the sound of desperate gasps for air, his, hers. 

Insistently, she arched her back, thrusting both breasts into the yellow street light slanting in from the windscreen. He could see the faint darker shadow of the tempting peak. With his index finger, he trailed an admiring touch over the insistent nubbin. Her body jerked, and the slight jiggle in her breasts broke him. His hand slid down to her waist, jerking her forward and burying his face between her breasts. He groaned and turned to mouth her. 

When she felt the wet lave of his tongue Ji Won’s body spasmed. Hard licks flicked her nipple through the shirt, followed by the desperate scrape of his teeth over the soaked cloth. She thrust both hands into his hair and pulled him even closer. “More, Ji Hyuk-sshi,” she whimpered. 

In the next second he was gone. She opened her eyes to protest. His face was grim and his hair stood up in tousled spikes. The fingers that until seconds ago had been loving her, gripped the steering wheel. He stared fixedly ahead as he fought to control his breathing. 

“Ji Won-sshi,” he growled. 

“Listen to me carefully. We have three and a half minutes before we reach home. For three and a half minutes, I will have to fight this damn erection and the urge to grab you. It will take everything I have.” 

He spared her one searing glance, taking in the wet, almost translucent spot on her shirt. His jaw worked and he determinedly pulled his gaze back to the road. 

“You, will now button up, and stay buttoned up. Do not move, by all that's holy, and do not make a sound or our first time will be on Seongsu Bridge, Seoul at, “ he glanced at the dashboard clock, “seven thirty-eight p.m.” 

--

Ji Won

Ji Hyuk would be a desperate but thorough lover.

That was the only thought in her head as they tore into the basement car park, and drunken parked across two lots. He got out, slammed the door behind him, and marched around to her side. She was out before he could get to her, tugging her firmly buttoned coat into place. His eyes were dark, narrowed, and the frown across his wide brow would have been intimidating if she had not known that she was the cause.

His hands came up as if in surrender. 

“Do not touch me in the lift, Ji Won-sshi. Please.” His voice came out low and strangled, but at least he could speak. She could not get a word out past the tightness in her throat. She just nodded once. 

He pushed his hands as deep as they would go into his winter coat pockets and turned, leading the way to the lift lobby. His long, urgent strides made his coat flap behind him. He stabbed at the lift button, then he turned to watch her as she caught up. She prayed no one else would get into the lift. They would smell the sex in the air. 

Finally, finally, the doors opened on his floor. Again he strode in front of her, leading the way and opening the apartment door for her to enter. The door clicked behind them and his hands came up to grasp her arms. Oddly, he didn’t pull her in, but instead leaned down to examine her face. One eyebrow lifted. 

“Are you sure?” he rasped, the arousal in his voice still apparent. “We can still just play, as much as you want. Just count what I said earlier about us making love as the madness of the moment. I want you, with every fibre of my being. But only on your time. If you turn around and leave now, I will take a cold shower and deal with it. Do you hear me, Ji Won-sshi? It only makes sense for me when it makes sense for you.”

Ji Won reached up and pulled is hand away, one, then the other. They dropped to his sides. 

Then she lifted her chin, kept her eyes on him, and slid her coat and jacket off her shoulders. It hit the floor. His eyes narrowed, his breath quickened, but still he waited. 

With the tiniest tremor, she reached up and unbuttoned her shirt. One button. Two. And then the rest. The silken barrier whispered open. She watched him stare at her, and saw his eyes devour every inch of exposed skin. His gaze slid down,  tracing her creamy cleavage, before it reached her taut belly button. She put one hand on his forearm, still in his coat, the bunching muscles underneath twisting at her touch. She slid her hand down, till she could twine her fingers with his. 

She led him to his huge sofa, tugging him behind her. “Sit,” was all she said. 

He sat, putting his head even with her breasts. They had not turned on the living room lights, so the only source of light came from the city laid out below them, a wintry blue outline on every surface of the room. Boldly, she slipped out of her shirt, and it slid down her shoulders, the material catching briefly on the tips before it sighed to the floor.  He swore, and stared fixedly at her exposed breasts. Her nipples stood proudly, turgid and flushed, as they had been all day.   

“Take me,” she breathed.

His hands immediately came up to span her waist. He tugged her near, and opened his mouth over her, but this time nothing was protecting her from the searing sensation of his slippery, sensous tongue on her. Their moans filled the air. Breathing became difficult and she whimpered and squirmed in his arms. The scratchy roughness of his coat brushed the skin of her uncovered back and arms, almost overwhelming her with the stimulation. 

Her fingers dug into his wide shoulders, and she buried her nose into his hair, breathing in his spicy male scent, some beguiling mix of Yu Ji Hyuk and clean soap. She drove all her fingers through his silky hair, guiding him from left to right and then back again,  as he tugged and loved her breasts. She couldn’t help it, and writhed and squirmed back and forth, unwittingly pulling her breast out of his mouth with a soft pop.

Now, the only thing holding her steady were his strong hands, spreading restlessly over waist and  back, sliding over her skirt-covered behind to drag her body over his. 

She wanted to straddle him, but her pencil skirt didn’t have much room. So she reached down and tugged it up. Ji Hyuk felt the motion and he leaned back to relish the incoming view. Her body was bisected by a tight band of black pencil skirt, with bare, glistening nakedness above, and a tempting wisp of lingerie below. The tiny, silky triangle of white lace protected her, for now. He swore, and whispered his desire for her, telling her in shocking details the things he wanted to do with her, in that low rough-edged voice. He was  factual, specific and to the point, as was his style.  She was scandalized, but his words made images form in her mind, of sweaty tangled bodies, of his muscled back as he thrust into her, of pure pleasure. 

“Do you want all that, Ji Won-sshi?” he half-groaned the words. “Or tell me it’s too early and we’ll stop now.”

She shook her head desperately, pride schooled by her frantic need for this man. "More."

With a deep growl he wrapped her legs around his waist and stood up. One muscled arm wrapped around her waist, the other grabbed her behind. 

He put his lips to her ear and rasped, “To the room then.”

--

Ji Hyuk

He wanted badly to make their first night special. But that was when he still could think. 

Now, as he laid her out under him, he could only act. He shucked his jacket, frantic hands throwing everything to the floor with abandon. He toed off his shoes and fumbled and tugged his shirt over his head in the same motion. She just lay in bed, her lithe curves outlined by moon and city lights, wickedly half-dressed with her skirt around her waist and the little triangle of lace winking at him as she raised one knee. His pants and underwear were flung away and he joined her in bed. 

He twisted his fingers around the tiny scrap of lace and tugged hard. It ripped and he was not sorry. Something feral had woken in him when they met again in 2013, and it would not be soothed. Their little seduction agreement had unleashed that underlying monstrous need for her. Their love play had merely whetted the beast’s appetite. She opened her legs with a gasp, he immediately sunk in and everything, everything became searing white heat. 

Her fingers dug into his back, clutched his butt and she arched,  half-crying as she came. The ridiculous speed of her orgasm surprised him, and his body went rigid. He groaned senseless, begging words into her ear, fighting for some shred of control as her inner muscles throbbed and pulsed around him. She writhed sensually under him milking him thoroughly.

He tried to last a little longer, tried to keep grinding his hips to maximize her pleasure, but just like her, he went down.  The waves of lava heat burned through him and crashed over him, drowning him in the smell, shape and red spice of her. His hips jerked wild and uncoordinated, his chest and belly slid against hers and he came blindingly hard. 

--

In every winter night, In every summer day, In the flights of spring, in the spirals of fall, You're in my minutes, in my meals, in my shoes, In the big, in the small, You're my everything, my all.

--

Author's note: Well. Ahem. I was trying to give them a beautiful first night to remember. But Yu Ji Hyuk happened. He gave me a tiny smirk and he whispered in her ear, and there went all my plans.

I really wanted to finish this before the finale, so please excuse typos and weird transitions.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

Today, on 8th February, 1976 - Queen Story!

New York, NY, USA, Beacon Theater

'A Night At The Opera Tour'

🔸Freddie Mercury was taking tea on the 47th floor of his New York hotel. In his suite. The Royal suite, of course. It was the morning after yet another triumph for Queen - that brilliant and highly original British rock band built around the outrageous ideas and stage presence of the exotic Mr.

Mercury. They had played their fourth concert in as many nights at the battered but fashionable Beacon Theatre, and wvith an album and a single in the American charts, they were riding high.

Warm tea was permitted to slide down Mr. Mercury's regal throat as he prodded gingerly at some nasty looking bruises on the side of his neck.

He explained, My very promising pop career nearly came to an untimely end last night. Two young girls outside the theatre decided to claim my scarf as a souvenir. They quite forgot that it was wrapped around my neck at the time, and they very nearly strangled me. I'm sure Her Majesty doesn't have to put up with this sort of thing. But then, she doesn't have anything in the charts at the moment does she?"

He is a wicked man, Mr. Mercury.

He is also everything that a rock idol is supposed to be, and New York has been quick to recognise this. Like Mick Jagger, Freddie has off-beat good looks. Jagger has those pneumatic lips, and Freddie has the most out- spoken set of teeth ever to have found their way on to a pop fan's wall. He also enjoys the lifestyle of a true superstar - he lives out our fantasies for us far more effectively than we could ever manage to do for our- selves. Even if we had his kind of money.

His dress sense is sensational. He seldom looks less than spectacular, and he is not the sort of chap who believes in going unnoticed. Satin is his favourite fabric, with silk coming a close second. And he loves those loose, floppy, Japanese-style jackets.

But as he is quick to point out, There is a quiet side to me too, you know.

My home life is very civilised, and I hardly ever dress up to watch the tele- vision. Unless I am watching a Royal occasion of course. Then, my dear, it's on with the tiara and the emine ..

the LOT!

But Freddie felt there were better things to do in the city of New York than sit around sipping tea and discussing sartorial matters. He in- vited photographer Terry 0ʻNeill and me to join him on a shopping expedition, and it seemed a reason- able idea. Freddie was his casual self in short fur coat, white satin slacks, white clogs and silver snake bracelet.

The problems we encountered were little ones. Like young girls sobbing softly outside the door of a shoe shop while Freddie sought some- thing for the regal feet inside. And then there was the confusion of the young lady in Bloomingdale's depart- ment store who began to give Freddie a free manicure, only to discover that the nails on his left hand were already painted with black lacquer.

Freddie said, I love America. But l cant imagine ever coming here to live.

Our music is successful over here because it is so distinctively English.

We must keep it that way. I have just bought a new house in London, and an enormous car that looks like a boat on wheels. I could never leave all that.

And I have far too much fun ever to worry about a silly little thing like tax.

I know l'm terribly extravagant.

I always have been. My life these days is one perpetual spending spree. So I suppose l am the sort of person who needs to find ways of reducing tax.

But it's all such a bore. Why don't you buy a pair of these beautiful glitter shoes? They 're outrageous. And they 're cheap. And they re much more interesting than tax, don't you think?

I did think so. But I decided against buying the lurid footwear. You have to be a star to wear shoes like that.

Somebody rather like Freddie Mercury, in fact.

[crimsonsharked]

❝ what the fuck ever — velvette thinks she’s the only bitch in ‘ere who knows anythin’ ‘bout fashion ? please. ❞ angel’s eyes flick quickly to one of vox’s many cameras, internally testing the waters to see if his blight on one of the vees would earn him some quickfrom punishment. when no lightning seemed to strike, he shrugged with a grin & continued.

❝ i’m a drag queen in hell. where t’fuck do ya’ think val even found me in the first place ? now ; hold still. tryin’ t’get . . . this stupid zipper up — we’re in a tower of three overlords an’ we can’t get clothes that ain’t cheap ?? — shit . . . ah ! there we go. ❞

angel dust pulls away from ambrosi & dusts the nonexistent dust from his hands, the lower set going to rest triumphantly on his hips. he looks his model up & down ; dressed in a tiny, tight fitted black dress, with a heart shape cut out of the chest & two ovals cut in the sides. its sleeves were short, & its neck was high.

❝ yer welcome. ❞

( for the dressing up meme! )

Dress my Muse up. 👚 | Accepting

"Oh, this one is charming." He wasn't much of a smiler but it wasn't hard to tell the shark liked this outfit a lot.

[verdemoun]

i’m a bit behind on the timewarp au, so i’m sorry if someone’s already asked this! buuttt… how did everyones sense of fashion change in modern day?

me, sitting here in my decade's old hoodie and pikachu pajama shorts: yes, fashion

Hosea is a v subservient husband who wears anything his wife gets him. Sometimes he's the high fashion old man with the tailors pants and crisp shirt under a blazer. Sometimes it's the rattiest home-made sweater with dropped stitches that somehow matches his $4 slippers and he just looks even older than he is but so snug.

Arthur wears nothing but jeans and t-shirts with the occasional jacket unless someone else picks out clothes for him. He still wears cowboy boots.

Sean and Lenny are all walmart/shein/temu horrid patterns cheap clothing boys. The closest Sean gets to fashion is his pizza delivery uniform. Lenny learns a little bit about fashion by googling 'college outfits for men'.

Charles lives in heavy-duty trade jeans and plaid flannels. Flannel shirt. Too cold for flannel shirt? Black shirt under flannel jacket. Carries high-vis in his truck. Lumberjack core.

Kieran exclusively wears hoodies. Admittedly some are 'nice' hoodies but then comes the impossible challenge of finding pants he will willing wear. He needs to be warned if he's expected to leave the house 2 days in advance to do washing.

Javier lives for the concept of fashion and just looks like an instagram model at all times. Just a diva. It isn't until he shows up and corrects the 1899's gang sense of fashion they actually look decent.

John and Jack both fall in love with emo. Leather jackets, black jeans, chokers. Abigail spends so much on anti-fade laundry detergent.

Abigail and Karen end up with very similar fashion styles. The occasional summer dress but mostly pants, nice shirts - functional clothes for chasing around their demonic little girls. Abigail is a cardigan queen.

Grimshaw would burn her dresses if she could. She discovered the luxury of pants and never looked back. Still rocks a corset though. Anyone brave enough to catcall her is getting tased, pepper-sprayed or shot depending on her mood.

When Dutch isn't in the hospital he still wears basically just his canon era vests, buttoned shirts and fitted pants - in the hospital it's psych-ward issues jammies for him.

Molly looks like a cottage-core queen and has the rolling to pack it up.