#the most stylish thing i own is my beloved leather jacket

[hollow-toy]

i so so badly wish that developing and maintaining a Personal Style was, like. an option for me. but the kind of clothes i can get are limited by my budget and then by my size and then by what fabrics and cuts won't make me wanna rip my skin off which leaves me with almost no choices. and making/modifying clothes isn't really an option for me because i just don't have the energy. and i can't even regularly do my eyeliner because i don't have the energy. so i just have to dress boring and endure the skinny people around me talking about their great thrift finds and how nice it is to express themselves through style

[littlefreya]

Prince Of Darkness

Summary: There'll be no escape tonight, the devil always gets what he desires.

Pairing: Devil!August Walker x Unnamed OFC (3rd person pov)

Word count: 6k

Warnings: 18+, DARK! NonCon, kidnapping, stalking, breeding, exhibitionism, loss of virginity, supernatural stuff, sex in a cathedral, mention of heaven and hell. Please proceed with caution. 

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own

A/N: I have put a lot of effort into this story, and I’m really anxious af. We all like to see August as a demon, but I decided to go all the way... And I’m nervous at your response and going to die after hitting submit. So bye.

Many thanks to the love of my life @agniavateira​, for support, brainstorm and beta. And to @crimsonrae​ and @wondersofdreaming​ who held my hand. 

Please give feedback and reblog if you enjoyed my work. 🖤

Title: Prince of Darkness

Blood painted the streets, courtesy of the blinding scarlet lights that danced upon gravel and tar before dwindling into darkness. The soft, beaming glow pulsed with the muffled beats of a monotonous song that played inside the luxurious nightclub. Like thundering war drums, it rumbled in the ears of the elegant man who stood along the shadows. 

Leaning against the cement, he took a sip from a glass of spiced Bordeaux and brushed an index finger over his thick moustache to wipe away misguided droplets of wine. 

‘How could anyone enjoy this abomination?’ He wondered with a guttural groan, never quite grasping this electronic noise thing; but then again August was older than this music, and his tastes far exceeded cheap and trivial antics. He was a man driven by the appetite for destruction and forbidden delights, and tonight, he was finally about to obtain both. After decades of anticipation, the succulent fruit was ready to be plucked. 

Oh, what an intoxicating and delicious mist his unsuspecting beloved emanated, setting his heart aflame with her sheer ripeness.  

‘It’s been so long, so painfully long.’ 

Time had lost its meaning as he waited, curving and swerving into a stream of an infinite river flowing with decay and death. 

But as the old saying went: all haste comes from the devil. 

So the man lingered against the wall, a sparkle enkindled and crackled in his eyes, morphing into black wells whilst the waves of her honey-liqueured ambrosia grew pungent, seeping through his airways and sinking in his throat. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, revelling in the sound of harsh tapping heels that echoed louder with every step until she came summoned into the naked wilderness of the city street. 

‘Beautiful and innocent as the garden of Eden. Of course, of course...’

The stranger scrutinised the young woman with another sip from his wine and a bite of great intrigue - but stoicism and silence, for now, were his most valuable allies. 

Clad in a lithe black dress and a stylish leather jacket to keep herself warm from the chill autumn breeze, she fished for the mobile device in her purse while distress washed her wrinkling brow. Illuminated by the bright screen, her face sulked as for the seventh time in the last 30 minutes, her attempt to find an Uber bore no success whatsoever. 

Was there something about tonight that all drivers were kept occupied, or had her luck simply run dry? 

Showing her face to the moonlit sky, she sighed in great frustration. This must have been fate’s retribution to a mindless bad decision; she should have left with her friends, but staying alone to fruitlessly catch the eye of the uncaring bartender seemed more significant as the buzz of alcohol dimmed any ray of logic. Now deep into the night, walking home alone didn’t appear to be the most sympathetic solution, yet it occurred to her that there wasn’t much of choice.  

“You seem distressed.” 

Equal to a dark chant sputtering words of witchcraft, the low yet incredibly soft baritone of his voice slithered from the corner and crept down her spine with icy scales. A lurching hollow flared within her gut, her neck seized by the tight grip of a serpentine phantom. 

His vibrato sounded like a voice that called her through a dream she never had before; despite the unsettling arctic spasm gyrating through her shaky limbs, it lured her to return a stare and meet the cryptic face behind the seducing chant. 

Two sharp glaciers glimmered at her as the stranger sauntered into the penumbra, momentarily lit by another flash of neon red that broke onto his face and highlighted his ethereal features. Her lips drew open, her nipples hardening against the fabric of her dress as a shiver ran through her. To say that the stranger was handsome would be an understatement, as it almost seemed as if he was ‘designed’ by a sculptor - carved cheeks led a path to slightly pouted lips, and a stark, dimpled chin was shadowed by dark stubble. His chocolate-brown hair was elegantly combed to the side, with a couple of large lustrous locks gently nestling over his brow.

Though it wasn’t his good looks that left her riddled with prickly goosebumps, but the unprecedented magnetic haul that made her feel as if she was physically drawn toward this mysterious man. 

Frightened by the unbidden reaction of her own body, she quickly retreated to gawk at the phone and provided no answer to his inquiry. A strange yearning to submit grew between her clenching thighs, a primal response to his striking looks and charms. 

But she killed the seed before it set roots in her flesh. 

‘They said Ted Bundy was charming as well…’ she mused. Frivolous as she wanted to be, getting murdered was undoubtedly not among her plans tonight. 

Revelling in her silent reply with an arched brow, he tilted his head when a blinding flicker abruptly caught his keen eye. Kissed by the pale moonlight’s beam, a small silver cross rested upon her collarbone. His sharp fangs begged to peek with sardonic amusement, but he kept his lips clamped, not wishing to scare her too soon. 

There was to be plenty of that later...

“May I offer you my help, sweetling?”

Threading his long fingers between the smooth stem and clasping them around the bowl, he lowered the glass to the side of his hip, dragging the girl’s unwilling eye to the healthy bulge in his groin. 

Her lips drew open as a surge of staggering heat flushed at her apex. 

It seemed enormous... 

“Name’s August, like the emperor, but you can call me whatever your heart desires...”

Embers burnt at her cheeks; in her belly, the odd mystical calling continued weaving at her core in an urge to accept whatever it was he had to offer. Her eyes warred to tear her gaze away from his nether region as her lashes fluttered to meet the abysmal glance that bestowed both frost and fire through her tendons. 

There was something archaically familiar about this man as if she knew him before the days had names. Yet she swore, it was the first time she ever saw his striking face. 

“I can take you wherever you need to go.” 

Breath laced with wine titillated her nostrils as the words spilt from his lips, whilst another crimson ray broke upon the marble of his face. Never had he urged, but instead suggested with a tongue soaked with honey. Still, a blazing aura of danger encircled him. And even though the very natural fear of walking home alone grappled her, it still seemed like a much better plan than entrusting her life to a stranger who was twice her size. 

Deciding to keep her tongue knotted, she turned and began striding away. ‘Best not to engage him,’ she thought, but once she moved past his bulky figure, her heart suddenly picked up its pace and her legs refused to function as if they no longer belonged to her. 

Seconds stretched into eternity. The thought that this civilised savage will assail her and drag her into the night scratched at the back of her head. But the worst of it was the simmering throb. Unforgiving, like gathering storm clouds, it thundered the closer she walked by him and then gradually died out as she finally managed to move away and free herself from this invisible bond. 

Savouring the final drop of wine, August watched amused as the frightened little lamb quickly oscillated on her feet, scampering into the horrors offered by the dark. It was funny how fear made animals act so heedlessly and rush straight into the burning heart of peril. 

A toothy grin peaked his chiselled cheeks. Always the gentleman, he shifted from the concrete, discarding the glass carelessly to shatter on the sidewalk. His sinew stretched in a relaxed ripple of an apex predator before he straightened both vest and jacket and stroked his thick moustache. 

Though her heavenly fragrance still soaked the air, the girl was already gone from normal eyesight. It was a pity to see her leave, yet there was no need for him to rush.

There was never really a choice for her. 

Strangely, the night kept growing unnaturally darker. A great ocean of blackness and crystalised stars spread from above, casting looming shadows across the tall buildings that resembled a maw filled with rotten teeth. The tepid wind that blew between the vast concrete monoliths was nothing but the breath of a mythical beast intoning her name through the shadows.

Clawing at her forearms, she meandered through the inert street with a wary eye. Desolate neon signs flickered hauntingly, bequeathing a vibrant beacon of dread over the shimmering, onyx road. Not a living soul was in sight as if the world descended into stillness, dominated by an eerie, dead silence save for the harsh echo of her hasty heels. And yet, the long path felt anything but lifeless. With every step landed on the ground, she could sense the movement beneath the surface: swarming vile things, slippery and scaled. Unseen by the human eye, they hissed dirty little secrets and slithered with sinister hunger, drizzling down their fangs. 

‘You can already feel me inside you, can’t you sweetling…’ Remaining hidden, he had to admit that watching the little lamb leap shivering into the slaughter has been somewhat of foreplay.

A veil of fumes emitted from her parted lips. The air became colder, summoning a terrifying truth that made her lungs clench around the black void that abruptly filled them with the notion that maybe... maybe… that chill, liquid-like thing that threatened to touch her ankle wasn’t just in her crazy imagination.

There was something out there, something undeniably familiar. This unusual gust of wind brushing at her nape has accompanied her since she could remember herself, an unsettling breeze bidding that evil lurked between the creases, holding its sinewy fingers clasped together while waiting for her to answer his hushed calling.

‘And once you finally answer, there is no turning back…’ 

Fear gnawed its frosty fangs at her bones, puncturing tiny painful cavities that were needles in her flesh. Tonight, of all nights, the same hazy feeling became stronger than ever before. Deep inside, she knew she would meet her end. Pressing the oily pads of her fingers at the sharp corners of her pendant, she inhaled and chanted a prayer, refusing to succumb to the noxious malice when a frozen pin pierced her heart.

Like the lark calling on the dawn, an unbidden chant carried her name.

Drenched with frigid sweat, she exhumed a shuddering breath, praying to God that it was only her imagination playing tricks on her ears. 

‘The greatest trick he ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.’

Indeed in the darkness, leered the beast. All teeth and malicious glee, August moved from one shadow to another, feasting on the aphrodisiac that was the mixture of her harrowing terror and unveiled desire. If only she knew the trail her scent left for him to follow - he could smell her from miles away. 

The little flower between her legs began blooming the moment their entities finally encountered one another, and it was his ancient name her dew had dripped for.  

‘My sweet little thing, tonight I will finally grant you a purpose...’ 

Like a hound awakened from a deep slumber, he flexed his bulging muscles and tailed her in utter silence. The same spell that burnt in her core seethed the blood gathering in his ardent loins. Since the dawn of humankind, he had more women than any other man on this earth, yet none has evoked such hunger in him. 

He would have eaten her alive and torn her to shreds if only he didn't have bigger plans for her.

Still hidden by the unnatural night, August stalked from behind, the blaze of his enkindling burn licking her path as he crept further to ensnare his prey. He wished she could see herself through his own flaring glance, how beautiful she was with tears of despair rolling down the tender slope of her cheeks. 

His beloved girl; his, by ancient law. Spirited as a rageful tempest, she insisted on escaping her prophesied fate. Muscles and bones strove against the panic that turned her boiling blood frigid. But no power, physical nor divine could revoke this otherworldly attraction that bound her to him. His bidding could never be undone and as much as his blood relished from the thrill of the chase, it was time to put an end to this dance and seal their union. 

Appearing from a stygian haze of a spectral nightmare, the beast drew his claw to grasp the fleeting girl’s shoulder.

The world froze along with the scream that died in her throat. Cold, slippery wet, the phantom serpents slinked around her ankles and held on to the ground as the thing behind her bit his nails into her collarbone. His touch was no ghost, but as real as the quiet moon that voyeured her fate from above and did nothing. A wretched gasp of anguish shuddered through her airways as his fingers stalked forth to cinch at her neck. 

His grip was tighter than the icy finger of death, yet its caress was the sensual lick of a gossamer tongue. 

It was almost as if he worshipped her. 

Shadows befell her as the assailant leaned close, wafting a mist of intoxicating fumes scented of poisonous elixirs and an ancient forest that laid deep between the veils of the underworld, hiding forbidden mysteries that none dared speak of. Seeping through her orifices, it stung her eyes and raked remorseful tears. 

“Please…” she broke into sobs, shaking her head at the dawning of her fate.

The man inhaled deeply. Though she could not see him, the joyful malice that danced on his pleased breath roared in her ears.

“Do not fear me.” The sonorous rumble caressing her ear was hardly a surprise in its familiarity.  It was him, the handsome bewhiskered gentleman from earlier. But of course, it was always him: the whisper in the dark, the slithering things moving beneath the tepid ground, and the smell of burning pyres. 

But who the hell was he?!

As if he read her mind, his hand twisted around her nape and with a careful sway, turned her to face him. The voice inside her head warned her over and over again not to look at him; yet the temptation was too great, peeling her eyes open to stare at the thing that made her heart drop to her gut.

Vast, raven wings spread from each side of an Adonis figure, their intimidating length denying her widened eyes to look at anything but the dark god that soared tall in front her. No, not a god, a devil. A pair of small golden horns peeked from the mane of long curls, and the heavenly icy gaze she remembered from earlier had melted into an abysmal lake of fire.

He was beautiful.

He was monstrous.

And just like that, she descended from the earth, swept into a thick swamp of darkness that swallowed her whole. Never letting so much as her feet kiss the ground, August scooped her into his strong arms. Peering down upon her, he broke into a delightful grin, already enamoured with his delicate new bride. The pang of lust tingled in his groin, though despite the raging need to claim her now, it was her screams he desired more than all as he would consummate their eternal marriage. 

Wicked tongues of fire licked up the shallow air, casting a faint amber glow into the abominable sombre of a vanishing nightmare. Shy as feral nymphs, the bursting sparks ascended melancholily, whispering tales of perishing days that fell to harmony with a strange mumbling chant. Still locked in a void of unconsciousness, the fallen girl shifted with disquiet, her hands restlessly clutching at a virginal silk gown that covered her body. 

Vaguely remembering a horrifying dream of a demonic entity, she woke with a sudden electric jitter. A peal of breathless pants pushed through her heaving chest before she slumped into the intense relief one experiences from a brush with either death or a ghastly fantasy. 

“Thank God…” she whispered with a fist pressed to her breast.

Yet, something was amiss. The low vocal melody continued despite her state of clarity, tangled with the eerie presence of a hundred cutting glares that stabbed her crawling spine. Slowly and carefully, she lifted her head and scanned her surroundings. 

The blood drained from her face.

Swaying like shadowy wraiths stood men cloaked in black velvet hoods. Tears of milky boiling wax trickled from the candles held by their stringy fingers, yet they didn’t seem to flinch as the burning rivulets seared their flesh. Their hollow eyes were fixated upon her while words of a dark sacrament sputtered from their lips and reverberated through the endless archways and ribbed vaults that towered above them. 

Her trembling muscles were briskly stifled under the unsettling realisation of her whereabouts - a cathedral, a thousand years old if not more. Burning torches lit crumbling pillars and statues of monstrous winged creatures that encircled them from every niche, their malicious shadows dancing upon dusty obsidian bricks. Unglazed windows were barred by black iron, the beautiful floral shapes preventing any means of escape. 

Only the fractured ceiling held a cheap shred of hope, as a vast rupture of broken stone exposed her to the scarred carmine wolf-moon.

If only she had wings…

Bones rattling beneath her crawling flesh, she sat upon the hard surface with wells of despair. Her hands clutched around the edge of the bed, only to be kissed by the sharp corners that pierced the delicate flesh. Hissing with pain, she lifted her arms and stared below at what appeared to be a midnight-black marble creased with golden veins and saplings-like patterns. 

It was beautiful, just like the creamy gown that covered her body.  

“Do you like it, bride?” 

Rising from the crowd like a flame among charred coals, appeared her handsome abductor. Suitable to a true evil prince, a long red cloak enrobed his broad, sturdy form, the velvet hem trailing behind him like a thick river of blood while he marched forward with no haste in his dauntless mien. Human once again, August offered the most endearing grin; two profound dimples embellished his scruffy cheeks, and his eyes shone brighter than a frozen sea. 

Yet in her sullen gaze, he was nothing but a monster.

Abruptly enraged and driven by pure instinct, she jumped off the marble and paced backwards. Tears of anger and fright rimmed her swollen lids and her bare feet nearly collided as she shook her head at August who was neither impressed nor concerned by this foolish protest. 

“You stay the fuck away from me!!!” She warned with a scream and hastily turned away. 

Lost in some trance, the praying mob never stirred, granting the girl a fair chance to escape the bewhiskered man who was still several strides away. Her feeble legs made three to four steps when her muscles swiftly turned to stone, and her stomach lurched. 

‘No! It couldn’t be! How?!’

Curls shining like precious coils of onyx, August emerged in front of her, continuing his relaxed gait as if this was a natural occurrence. His bright icicles melted into malicious dark pools of twisted desire, and his tongue briefly laved his plump lips at the sight of pure disbelief that cascaded over her face. He could feel right under her skin, hear the thrumming heart that both chilled and fumed for him. Further beyond her thoughts, his betrothed yearned to be defiled and torn open by him. 

It was her destiny, whether she liked it or not. 

Still she fought, so ferocious and defiant, flinching away from his attempts to seize her. It was almost comical to watch her deny him, knowing that her fate would be no different; she will spread her legs and submit to his conquest. And yet, her battle was immensely appealing; what better bride to the dark lord than a woman who breathed fire.

“Who are you?!” She cried, her trembling voice rising with panic and her cheeks soaking with tears, “What do you want from me?!”

August's face was devoid of mercy, her whimpering hisses did nothing to deter him and only further increased the appetite of the deprived wolf that circled in his gut. With a wring of his wrist, his fingers snapped at her elbow, hauling her against his rock-hard chest with such might her heels hovered above the ground. 

Writhing in his grip she flung her hands at his face, clawing streams of crimson to trickle down his cheeks. The notion of hurting this vicious man brought somewhat of a sick joy; but her onslaught died at once, and her mouth fell agape as his skin healed with not even a trace of injury. 

“Oh God, what are you?!” She shuddered. 

Still holding her elbow hostage, his free hand travelled to the hem of the white gown, the long, perverted fingers twisting around the fabric before yanking it off at once. A resounding rip echoed through the tall arches, causing the chanting choir to halt their susurrations at once. 

All eyes were afloat as the cold air kissed her skin. In vain, she attempted to cover herself only to be felled by the restraints of August’s grasp. 

“God?...” The man finally spoke, his melodic voice ending with a sonorous hum that sprouted through her arteries like a deadly toxin. Not less poisonous, his gaze trailed down her form, worshipping the very sights of his delightful prize. 

“Not God, but once I was an angel,” he suggested and leaned down to inhale her skin with a gratified growl before he flicked his wide tongue at her chest.

A groan of approval emitted from his lips, the sheer coat of sweat that layered her bosom was soaked of freshly brewed fear, his most favourite savour. His wet, velvety snake swept the sweet-briny wetness and licked further down her breasts, twirling around the erect nipple.

Unintended, she moaned. A river of delights rushed between her grinding thighs.

“No!”

Wrongful, unwanted bliss awoke in her. She felt desecrated and allured at once. Her fickle body deceived, mistaking this vile conquest as consensual. And the more August took, the more she desired; her dutiful womb demanded to consummate this bond, almost as if the beast had bewitched her a long while ago, embedding his essence in the marrow of her bones. 

August grinned against her skin, the scent of her arousal fresh in his nose while his lips travelled to kiss down her sternum and the slope of her torso. His thick whiskers left a trail of fluttering butterflies.

“Have sympathy, my love. I had built my own realm and waited in the forlorn abyss. Empires fell and worlds disintegrated into ashes while I waited for thou,” he explained and clutched the cheek of her behind in his claw, squeezing it possessively. “I have longed for your touch since the day your ancestor promised you to me, little lamb. A hundred years’ worth of waiting for the bargain to reach its end, and for you to finally be ripe.” 

The beast pressed one last languid kiss below her navel, a guttural hum exuded in between his lips, huffing hot against her belly. Slowly he rose to his full height, towering above his helpless victim who hugged her arms to cover her naked body and watched her nightmare unfold once more. Cold wind chilled her damp cheeks as August flung the blood-red cloak and exposed his naked figure before her.  

He was massive, a masculine build fit for a warrior angel, covered with thick bulging muscles and dark hair. Lips parted, she forgot herself, gawking in awe and allowing her gaze to trail down to his unapologetically monstrous cock. Firm and throbbing, it dripped with hunger, urging to find release inside her clenching cavern.

She didn’t even know a man could be this vast, but alas, he was no man at all.

It was at that moment when blackest wings spread before her that realisation finally struck through like a blunt hammer to the back of her head. Covering her mouth she cowered away, her exposed back hitting the raised altar behind her. 

August was no man nor god, but Lucifer himself. 

Seeing the hope die in her eyes, the devil sneered. 

“No, no, no! This can’t be real! This isn’t real!!!” She yelled, pathetic little hiccups sputtering from her lips.

August tilted his head, giving a scornful pout and scoffed with amusement. “Am I not?” He asked as he lifted an arm to flick his fingers, summoning two of the hooded servants to approach the dais. Their eyes were soulless gems embedded to a grey face that was cracked like a broken eggshell. 

“I am real, beloved, as real as the child you will conceive me tonight.” 

Shrills of terror flew through the great hole in the ceiling. Kicking and screaming, she fought as the men seized her arms and dragged her to the altar, forcing her flat down and holding her arms to prevent her from escaping. They never blinked at the ferocious war she waged against them, though an impish smile slowly possessed their faces as their master strode forward. 

“Sweet little lamb,” August chanted, enamoured with his fiery bride while he sauntered by the edge of the altar. His Adonis body golden in the candlelight, his fingers squeezed and pumped the ravenous demon that hung heavy between his legs. The twinge in her womb rose in response, a low roar thrumming as it yearned to succumb to its unbridled purpose. Sheen, the arousal trickled between her kicking legs and onto the smooth stone, making her cheek flame.

Much to August’s pleasure. 

“Our son will burn this world to cinders,” he promised and snaked his fingers at her ankles. Calmly deflecting her attempts to kick against him, he dragged her toward him until her knees folded over the edge and spread between his thighs. The platform was in the perfect height, positioning her delicious Eden at the height of his blessed demon. 

“You will make an excellent mother.”

Her entire body shook, her cunt clenching along her sobs in both defence and beguiling need as August leaned in and grazed the silky pink crown between her wet petals. She begged he wouldn’t be able to invade her, but her prayers fell to deaf ears.    

“Please don’t do this to me! I will do anything… please!” She wailed a bargain, still trying to escape the servants’ grip and looking at him pleadingly, “I… I...haven’t been with a man!”

“Oh I know…” August beamed and stroked himself back and forth between her engorged lips. Vamping flames tingled at her flesh, her core foolishly squeezing around nothing in demand for this wretched monster to defile her.  

“You’ve kept yourself for me, didn't you? I have waited for you too, for centuries even, but now our waiting has ended, and I can finally love you.”

With one brutal thrust, he breached through the gates of her sacred haven, corrupting her purity and ripping her open with the elegance of a savage. 

Exasperated bats fluttered their wings over the red moon at the sound of her pained howl. Eyes flared to the bleak sky above; the girl watched them in a daze, disbelieving the blazing demon that scorched her from inside as he nestled himself between her resisting gates with no intention to cease. 

In his villainy, August pushed further. Stunned thunders of ecstasy erupted from his lips, all to humiliate her along with the dark minions who circled the altar to pervertedly witness this sacrilegious ritual in which their master ravaged the unwilling maiden. Ignoring her body’s vehement protest, he forced himself unfathomably deep, only stopping until the head of his cock kissed the gateway of her cervix.

Crystalised tears rolled down her temples and stained the cold marble beneath her body. Slit impossibly sore, she twitched and sobbed at the overwhelming feeling of being invaded by another entity. Her once protected realm was now under the domain of a ruthless prince, and he took no prisoners and granted no mercy nor care at her vain endeavours to push him out. 

He would never stop. He would have her again and again until her sacred little womb would be plentiful with his seed. 

“Tight,” he blurted out in a blissful huff and reached his talons to bite into her quaking thighs. Spreading her wider, he hooked his hands below her knees, moulding her into a vessel to be fulfilled. Arctic orbs glazed down her naked figure, his plump lips cooing at her aching whimpers. The taut and hairy muscles of his gut flexed as he carefully withdrew his vicious cock, coated in the crimson sorrow of her maidenhood.

Hollow pain throbbed in her empty cunt as he suddenly abandoned her. Distressed and overwhelmed, she hoped he would stay out, yet her traitorous body coveted his return in a false faith that it would ease the fervid twinge that soared to her belly and even burnt in her breasts.

It was far from true.

No less vigorous than before, August plunged back inside her, stretching her again, shaping her as his own as she yipped and struggled to escape. His head threw back with a roar of divine pleasure, feasting at the thrill of her dauntless veils wrapping around him like a succulent flower. For a moment there, he wondered who preyed on who. Her concupiscent little cove sucked him so wantonly it threatened to swallow his raging cock. 

‘But of course, every virgin is destined to become my whore.’

Hot and heavy, his shaft seized the void that had always been inside her, their heaving organs collided in euphoric bliss like two broken shards that were lost for decades and finally pieced back together. And even though she seared with every jerk or shift he made, the impassioned flames licked at the seams of her twitching cunt in waves of ache and foreign desperation. 

“No…” she whispered, shame singeing her throat as the little pesky sparks enkindled where the devil had violated her. Vision blurry, she gazed at him utterly mystified. Part of her warred to stoke the fire that screamed heresy, while the other begged to yield to her demise.   

As August pulled away again and thrust harder, a breathless moan tore from her lips.    

A cutting grin radiated onto his face. “It feels so good inside you,” he sang and slid one hand to stroke all the way down from her sweat-ridden thighs to her belly, feeling the movement of his cock with every push and shove. 

He was taunting her, yet she couldn’t care less. Over the cinders of pain and virtue, a garden began to bloom. With every abysmal stroke of his swelling shaft, she could feel green saplings and coy vines growing within her uterus—soft, beautiful tendrils stalked through her arteries, sprouted through her cove, and engulfed his swelling demon as well.

She was no longer burning but becoming alive. Pained cries suddenly evolved into asphyxiation of bliss. Beyond her realisation, she undulated her hips in the desire to endure each of his wet claiming thrusts. Her spine coiled against the surface, further allowing him easier passage to nourish the wilderness that continued spreading through her blood. 

Noticing the change in her, approving groans rumbled in his throat; his little bride was growing tighter around his demon, her quivering lips and fluttering lashes the image of true Elysium. It was not long before he would plant his seed in her fertile lush. Her cunt milked and suckled around him, demanding to be bred by the devil. 

“Yes, my love! Give in to me! Give in to your primal sin!” August urged, enhancing the rhythm until he was thrusting into her like a battering ram, the sinful elixir of their union smearing on his groin and dripping down her rump. “Descend with me!” 

In her delirium she witnessed magical nightshades and sinewy stalks growing amidst the gritty bricks, encompassing the ominous cathedral with bright colours. 

It was paradise on earth, given to her by the unearthly rapturous joy of having this demon violate her, slamming harder with growing frustration until his thick girth ripped through the last threads of her self-preservation and that which she tried so hard to deny erupted through her clenching core.

Euphoria. 

For a lingering moment, she had wings of her own, pale as precious pearls and lustrous stars. Tingling waves of ethereal white heat burst at her seams, purifying her as she flew above the cathedral, and watched their ungodly union from above. But her wings suddenly caught aflame and before she knew it, she crashed onto the earth with a secondary, more violent climax. 

The beast’s roars erupted into a brutal thunder, causing the sturdy pillars of the cathedral to quake and crack like thin glass. With all his might, he clutched her thighs and hauled her against him, slamming his swollen cock deep into her belly and releasing his smouldering, milky essence until it seeped from her sleek. August’s wings flew open as he found his own rapture, blazes following through and consuming the ancient hall. 

This was no longer a hallucination. 

This was Inferno.

Still radiating with orgasmic glow, she screamed horrified as everything around them vehemently burnt to coals. Even the soulless servants crumbled into dust, accepting their fate without so much of a yip. The fire raged and died within seconds, leaving nothing but broken pillars and ashen smoke.  

Shortly, the tepid air of night caressed her naked skin as they remained alone in the ruins of what was once an ominous cathedral. Still buried in her viscera, August broke into a low, stretching groan of relief which made her immediately return her eyes to him. Shame rose bitter in her throat and new fresh rivulets trickled on her cheeks.  

After all that he had done to her, she could see nothing in him but a beautiful monster.

“My beloved queen,” August keened to comfort her and moved his hand to tenderly stroke her lower belly. 

A toothy smile broke upon his face, his eyes gleaming with surprise as he felt the life that had already begun growing in her angelic fortress. A son, strong and glorious as his father. For the first time in his long existence, the devil was truly elated and he vowed in that moment that he would give her much, and much more. But first, she needed to be cared for. 

Her assaulted hole convulsed with pain as he pulled himself out, leaving a trail of creamy fluids to dribble at his departure. Sniffling and shaking, she watched him bemused, as he climbed onto the altar and moved to lie beside her. Though she no longer flinched as he touched her, what was the point of it anyway? He had already destroyed her and stolen her innocent soul.  

“You make me so happy, my beloved queen,” August had murmured as he gripped her jaw and pressed his lips to hers. His kiss claimed her breath, pillaging whatever left of her chastity and wit until she absentmindedly kissed back, forgetting herself as his tongue bested her will. 

When he broke away, the taste of spiced ruby wine and blood lingered in her mouth. 

“An eternity awaits us,” the devil explained as he pecked her nose and her forehead lovingly, to which she shivered - out of fright or out of want, she couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

“You had made me the happiest, now give me the chance to grant the same favour, ask for anything you want in the world and it shall be yours,” he begged and wrapped her in the shelter of his strong arms to lie down with him on the smooth stone surface.

Absentmindedly, she welcomed the protection offered from his embrace and stared silently as flakes of cement broke from the remnants of the wall floated in the air around her before she opened her mouth. 

“I wish for…” 

Her whisper faded into the dark.

*Disclaimer: I do not own Mission Impossible or August Walker

Beautiful dividers by @firefly-graphics​

[riot-in-reverie]

Villainous Neighbors

if you have name ideas let me know! this is just the place holder

this has violence but not much. i’ll post pictures in a different post because this is one the computer. 

@b00kworm @jurdanhell @cardan-greenbriar-tcp

Sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged

Chapter One 

Jude’s POV

The crowds cheering and applause was almost deafening. I watched the body before me crumple and collapse, beaten and broken onto the bloodstained ground. His limbs sprawled in unnatural directions. I drew my attention away from him and to the crowd. I raised my bandaged fist as I cried out in victory; The blood of my opponent dripped down my arm. I turned in circles so everyone could see me. I wanted everyone to see how I won. How I beat the brute now laying at my feet. The cheering crowd just made my smile grow and I stood there basking in the glory before quickly walking out of the makeshift arena and into the otherwise crowded space. I pushed through the drunken crowd and out of where the fighting pit was stationed. If you could call it a fighting pit. It was just a ring of people that made the illusion of a caged area.

 I was heading straight to the man that gave me my money. I never cared to learn his name, it didn’t matter anyway. I memorized what he looked like so I didn't have to know his name. Short, stocky, brown hair unevenly cut. As soon as I found him I took the envelope that he was already holding out to me. While looking at it I noticed that it was addressed to Mirth. 

Mirth was my stage name. I had used Mirth since I was little and had started participating in unlawful activities. I was now just too lazy to try and change it. I looked back up to the small man 

“It’s all here?” I asked while waving the envelope. 

The man nodded “Yes ma’am every cent”

“Good” I didn't bother checking it more than that. They had underpaid me once and had suffered the consequences. No one was going to cut me short. I had worked too damn hard my whole life to be paid less than I was worth. I seriously doubted they dared try and do it again after what had happened. I nodded to the man in farewell and left the place. I really hated it there all the gambling, drinking, false deals and all that shit. The only thing I liked was the money and the occasional chance to get away from my personal relationships. Of course the loud crowds and fights didn't allow lots of peace. The most peaceful part of this place was the luxurious rooms that big business owners talked about whatever the fuck they talked about. I never went there, that wasn’t my scene. I mostly spent my time in that small, loud, part in the back. I went through the parting motions of getting my jacket and changing shoes before stepping out into the delightfully cool night air. I sighed and tucked the envelope into a hidden inside pocket of my beloved leather jacket. 

As I walked down the suburban streets the only sounds I could hear were the soft clicking of my buckle up boots and swish of my ponytail as it brushed against the back of my jacket. As much as I love cheering crowds, rocking parties and other fun stuff that just happens to be loud I also really enjoy the quiet. The world stands still for a moment and you get to enjoy the small things. It's even better when it's dark. The dark has always been a favorite of mine. There is just something about the cold and the quiet, the unspoken, the soft silken dark, not seeing the color but the true presence, it's terrifying but beautiful. Maybe that's why I like it. Because for those moments I can forget for a while. Forget who I am and who I am supposed to be. Thinking if things where different. I never had the chance to be soft. I had to be bloody knuckles and broken glass. I had to protect those close to me. I wanted others to be afraid of hurting me. I sometimes wonder what it would be like if things were different and we had grown up with our parents. I would have gone to school instead of begging on the streets. I would have joined clubs instead of learning to pick locks. I might be dating a guy I love rather than a grade A jackass. 

Everything was just so different for me and the worst was that I like it. I like breaking bones and stealing. I like it when people look at me in fear. Maybe it's just the way I grew up. I could blame it on that right?

I pulled myself out of my thoughts before I went to a more dangerous place. Who knows what lies in this very twisted mind of mine. I seemed to have brought myself back to reality at a good time because I was coming close to our apartment. The apartment I shared with my sisters. The apartment I paid for. It was okay, it has three bedrooms and two bathrooms. Vivienne complained that we should buy a house since we have enough money. It's true that we have enough money. Thanks to me but it would be too suspicious for three teenage girls to buy a house all on their own so for now we have a nice apartment. I unlocked the door and went inside. I guessed it was probably about 10pm so Oak and Taryn were probably asleep. I walked in and saw Vivienne on the couch watching some show. I didn't care enough about what it was to ask. I hung up my jacket and started to take off my boots. 

“Did you win?” Vivienne said by way of greeting. She didn't look away from the TV. I'm not sure if she just wasn't interested or too worried about injuries. Sometimes I'd come back barely able to walk. She knew of my fights and even though she wasn’t happy about it she was more tolerant about it than Taryn was. 

“Course I did” I answered and kicked off my boots as soon as they were loose enough. 

“I’m going to bed you should too” I locked the door behind me and walked softly up the stairs so I didn't wake anyone. I pushed my door open and was immediately chucking clothes off. I threw my jacket onto the fuzzy chair in the corner of the room, changed into my old but comfortable pajamas and took my hair out. I stood in front of the full length mirror that was just propped up against the wall because I was too lazy to get a stand for it or hang it up or whatever you're supposed to do for it. I brushed my long willow tree colored hair out while staring at my too pale of a face. I sighed before crashing onto my bed that was pushed up into the corner of the room. Just another day in the life. I think I was asleep before I even hit the mattress. 

Cardans POV 

I stood there as the elevator moved steadily upward. I looked at my reflection in the polished silver walls. I was dressed in my usual business attire with the lose hanging white buttoned shirt, leather pointed shoes that I could see my reflection in, black pants that the store advertised as "dark grey" with no pockets forcing me to have a briefcase, and thanks to fucking stereotypes I had taken off my very stylish rings off leaving circular indentations on my fingers and most of my makeup. I tucked a strand of stray crow black hair behind my ear and started to unbutton the top button of my shirt. I don't know why I did it. It just became sort of a little good luck thing and whether it worked or not it made me look just a bit sexier. 

I heard the elevator doors ding and slide open. I picked up my briefcase and stepped out of the elevator into a large office. Looking around the office it had a whole wall of windows overlooking the city and a small sitting area that was completely pointless because the desk was literally five feet away from it. Sitting at the desk pouring over papers was a man that seemed to be in his mid forties. I stood there for a moment waiting for him to look up, after it seemed clear that he wasn’t going to acknowledge me anytime soon I cleared my throat. The man looked up at me with a shocked expression, the wrinkles under his eyes (no doubt from working late nights) creasing in worry. 

“Mr. Greenbriar I wasn’t expecting you till nine”

“I thought I’d stop by early” I said glancing at my watch that read half past seven “Aren’t you going to invite me to sit down?”

“Yes yes of course please have a seat” He gestured to the leather chairs across from his desk. I sat down in one and put my briefcase in the other. 

“Well I’ll get right to the point. I am supposed to get paid at the beginning of every month, correct?” 

“Well yes but…”

“And today is the first and yet I haven’t been paid. It also happens that today you scheduled a meeting. Should I be worried Mr. Smith?”

“Greenbriar I have talked to some of my people and we have decided that we won’t be paying you anymore”

I leaned forward in my seat. I had a feeling this was going to happen “Really?”

“We’re perfectly fine on our own, your protection is not needed. I’m not paying you protection money when there are no ongoing threats. We have state of the art security systems and we don’t need help from a teenage boy”

He obviously didn’t think of me as a threat. What an idiot. Soon enough he’d learn. “Hmm you seem awfully confident in your decision. Are you sure you're powerful enough to do this?”

“What does power have to do with it? I am in charge of a powerful business, yes, and am friends with other powerful businessmen so I suppose...”

“Power is everything” I interrupted. I looked back at his stupid little sitting area. It had a chess table in the middle. I crossed over to it and picked up a king turning it over in my fingers. Mr. Smith started to say something but I continued before he could start “Life is like chess. There are powerful people, powerful people who hire others to protect them, there are people who strive to be the king, there are people who move too fast, there are people who move too slow, there are impulsive people who don’t think before they move, and some people sacrifice everything. You just have to learn the rules and then you have to play better than everyone else, but no one ever wins that way and no one ever tells you about the other way. How you can break the rules. I break the rules and I'll tell you what Mr. Smith” I looked up and smiled a smile that hid dangerous secrets. “I'm going to be the deadliest piece on the board.” I dropped the chess piece on the floor and grabbed my briefcase. “I’ll expect your call in the morning” 

The walk home was less than pleasant. I should have drove then I wouldn’t be here cold and tired. I had more stuff to do once I got home or maybe it could wait till tomorrow. 

I was thinking about stuff on my to do list when I noticed someone in front of me. It was kinda dark so I couldn’t see super clearly but it seemed to be a girl about my age. Any other day I would have gone up and talked to her but tonight is just not that night. I turned the next corner and got to my house in the next couple minutes.

 I locked the door behind me and went right up the wooden stairs to my room where I quickly changed into my silk pajamas I got a few weeks ago. I looked at the clock. It was about nine to early for bed and too late for productive work. That left one option, my favorite. I quickly went downstairs and to the kitchen pulling out a half finished bottle of wine, turned on Criminal minds, and sprawled out on the couch. Just another day in the life.

[thearvariblues]

The Bard And The Wolf - Chapter Five

(AKA Geraskier in the Metal Band AU you didn’t know you needed)

AKA me desperately trying to catch up my Tumblr with what’s already been posted to AO3. ;) 

The masterpost for this fic can be found HERE.

5 – No Firstborns Needed

Even though the food Geralt had brought him certainly helped, it still took Jaskier a significant amount of time to recover from the hangover. He had to admit it to himself – he wasn’t getting any younger. There used to be times when he would drink all night and be completely alright in the morning…

Nah, that was a lie. His hangovers always used to be hell, but this was worse than ever.

He was mostly alright, though, when his phone rang in the afternoon.

He answered it without even looking at the screen.

“I’m listening,” he said.

“Uhm. Erm. Hi,” a girl’s voice replied. “This is… This is Ciri.”

“Ciri!” Jaskier beamed. “How are you? I was gonna call you, I swear, I wanted to thank you for sharing the video, and also for not telling on me to your dad… Oh, no, I mean, I probably shouldn’t be thanking you for lying to your father...”

“Didn’t lie to him. Just didn’t tell him,” Ciri said.

“That’s not making it any better,” Jaskier murmured. “Anyway! You were calling me for a reason, I guess?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just wanted to ask… Well, since you’re definitely staying, because the fans really love you, I… I mean… Would you like to go shopping with me?”

“Shopping?” Jaskier blinked. “Oh, you mean for some clothes to fit my new metal singer image?”

“Yes. I know all the good places. Mom takes me with her all the time. I know where they have the best T-shirts and pants and–”

“Yeah, sure, I’d love to go! Wait… Does your father know about it?”

“Does he have to?”

“Well, I’d like to stay alive, so yes, he kind of does.”

“Right. So I’ll… ask him and then call you back?”

“Perfect,” Jaskier smiled. “And what about Renfri? Is she coming too?”

“She said she’d rather cut off her right hand with a pocket knife.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“That’s definitely a no. Right, I’m gonna go and ask dad. Might take a few minutes, though. He’s working, and when he’s working, it takes him a while to start focusing on anything else.”

“That’ fine. Yeah. Right. See you soon. Well, hear you soon.”

“Bye, Jaskier.”

*

Geralt didn’t mind Ciri going with Jaskier. He even called Jaskier himself to tell him that. (And also to tell him that Ciri is allowed to buy something, too, within reason, and that he would give her his credit card, in case she wanted something she couldn’t afford to buy with her pocket money… Jaskier couldn’t help but think it was incredibly cute.)

So Jaskier went shopping with Ciri.

Two hours later, he had five large bags of clothes and his credit card was weeping silently in his wallet. Oh, dear, he would have to take some new students. At least two. Maybe even three. He didn’t want to, but he would have to.

Who’d have thought black clothes were so damn expensive?! (Except he absolutely didn’t buy only black clothes, quite the opposite, in fact.)

Right, right. So it might not have been absolutely necessary to buy those black leather pants and that leather jacket… But Jaskier had wanted a real leather jacket for a while, okay?

“So, am I now officially ready to take my place in the band?” he asked Ciri. He’d dropped the bags off at his flat and he and the girl were currently walking to Kaer Morhen’s rehearsal. Ciri was carrying a little bag with a black-and-purple striped dress that Jaskier wasn’t sure Geralt would approve of, but Jaskier definitely approved. It looked so good on the girl. It was stylish, but not revealing, a perfect dress for a kid her age…

“You’re more than ready,” Ciri said. “You look great.”

Oh, yes, so Jaskier had definitely found the time to change while he was at home. He was now wearing tight black pants, a dark purple T-shirt and a black brocade vest that, he had to admit, did wonders for his figure. His waist looked slimmer, his shoulders broader… Yeah, he looked great as hell.

“All thanks to you, mylady,” he grinned.

“Hush. You chose most of the clothes yourself. You just needed someone who would make you actually buy them. Like the coat.”

Oh, yes, the coat. The coat that was currently spread on his bed. The coat that had already managed to become one of Jaskier’s most prized possessions.

The beautiful, steel blue, double breasted, clearly Victorian era-inspired thing cost more than half of Jaskier’s monthly income, and it was love at first sight. He tried to be be strong, tried to resist, tried to remind himself that he was saving money so he could buy his own flat instead of renting it… But then Ciri saw him drooling at the coat and said: “Oh my God, you have to try it on!”

And so he did. And he was lost.

“It’s not exactly… what a metal singer should wear, is it? I mean, the color is so… light? Too light,” he had tried to protest, stroking the fabric lovingly.

“Don’t be silly. Female singers wear light colors all the time. Even mum did!”

“Mum?”

“Yennefer? Hello?”

“Yeah. Of course. Of course. Way to win the fans’ hearts, by pretending to be her.”

“Nobody’s gonna think you’re her, stupid. Buy it. I bet dad’s gonna love it. It’s one of his favorite colors.”

“I’ve never seen him wear anything but black.”

“I didn’t say his favorite to wear. He just… likes it.”

And it shouldn’t have been the last impulse Jaskier needed to buy the fucking thing, but it kind of was.

“I still think you should have bought the golden jacket, too.”

“Sorry, sweetie, but even the coat was a bit too much. The jacket? I could never afford that.”

That beautiful, gorgeous, amazing golden jacket with V-shaped stripes on the front. Oh, yes, he would kill for that beauty, but he wasn’t ready to eat dry rice for the next two months.

“Too bad. You looked beautiful in it.”

“I know, Ciri, I know,” Jaskier sighed.

They were nearly at the door. Nearly at the rehearsal room. But then Jaskier heard fast footsteps behind them and he (stupid, stupid, stupid!) decided to turn his head.

“Oh, hello,” said a voice Jaskier never wanted to hear again. “If it isn’t the useless wannabe singer! And who’s that? She’s a little too young to be your girlfriend, isn’t she?”

“Who the hell is he?” Ciri muttered.

“Valdo Marx,” Jaskier growled. “What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing. I just wanted to say hello!” Valdo grinned a crooked grin. “I saw your video. Man, I’ve never seen something so ridiculous. Have you been kicked out, yet? You’d deserve to be kicked out for that shit!”

“Since there was no bitch around who would be horny for my place in the band… Nope, still in, sorry.”

“And what about that terrible song?” Valdo continued, as if Jaskier didn’t say anything. “Toss a coin to your whatever. I’m not surprised Dandelions had to get rid of you! Ugh, appalling.”

“Excuse me?!” Ciri exclaimed and took a step in Valdo’s direction.

“Ciri. No. He’s not worth it,” Jaskier said, stopping her. “Valdo. May I introduce you to Cirilla, Geralt’s daughter and a former fan of Dandelions, now a devoted fan of Kaer Morhen?”

“And a fan of Jaskier,” Ciri added.

“Geralt? As in the singer of Kaer Morhen?” Valdo snorted. “Oh, dear. You really did suck his cock, didn’t you? Since he’s borrowed you his daughter. Has he fucked you yet? You’ve always said he was a moron, I’m sure you’re really desperate for him to fuck you.”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide, and this time he took a step towards the man.

“What did you say you bitch?!” he growled.

A hand grabbed his shoulder from behind.

Jaskier turned, kind of expecting to see Geralt there, but no. It was Lambert, a smirk on his lips and murder in his eyes.

“Relax, sweetie,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.”

“And you are?” Valdo asked.

“Lambert. Funny you don’t remember me, because you spent weeks trying to get in my pants when you wanted to sleep your way into Kaer Morhen. I ruined it for you by being so annoyingly and boringly heterosexual. Don’t worry, though, even if I was gay, you’d stand no chance.”

“Burn, baby, burn,” Jaskier smirked.

“Now, Valdo,” Lambert continued, his smirk growing a little wider. “My friend Jaskier here might be ready to cut your throat, but I would never let him.”

“Thank… you?” Valdo blinked.

“And if Geralt heard you were mean to his beloved daughter, well… He’s a calm man, I mean, he tries to be. But I don’t think he would remain calm if he heard. You know what they say, demons run when a good man goes to war.”

“Hey. I understood that reference!” Jaskier blinked.

“Shush. I’m in the middle of threatening here,” Lambert said. “Valdo. Valdo, Valdo, Valdo. Trust me. You wouldn’t like what would happen if Geralt heard about this.”

Valdo visibly paled.

“He… he doesn’t need to know, does he?”

“No, no, of course not,” Lambert nodded. “But then again… There’s still me.”

“You?”

“Me,” Lambert grinned. “My dear Valdo. There’s one thing you need to understand about me. I am not a calm man, I am not a good man, but I am also not someone who would just simply cut your throat. No. If you show your ugly face near our rehearsal room again, I am going to rip off your cock, fuck you with it, and then use it to gag you while I cut you open and remove your organs in alphabetical order. Are we clear?”

Valdo’s face was completely void of blood now. All the guy was able to do was a single short nod.

“Good. I’m glad for that,” Lambert said. “Why are you still here, then?”

With all the dignity he had left (which was, well… none), Valdo Marx turned and power-walked away without another word.

“Wow. That was awesome!” Ciri beamed.

“I had it,” Jaskier growled, looking at Lambert.

“I know. You were absolutely ready to cut his throat. Or… throttle him,” Lambert shrugged. “But Geralt doesn’t like that. He always tells me, use your words first, there’s still time for stabbing later. So I do it. I threaten, and then, if it doesn’t help, I stab.”

“And do you… stab a lot?” Jaskier asked, fearing the answer.

“Nah,” Lambert grinned. “But fist fights and bar brawls, well… Those do tend to happen.”

“That’s a relief.”

“I bet. Everything alright, Ciri?”

“Absolutely,” the girl nodded.

“Now, Jaskier. Saw your video. Did you seriously call me a dick?”

“Well,” Jaskier smirked. “You are kind of a dick.”

“Guilty as charged,” Lambert grinned. “Let’s go in. Eskel hates it when we’re late.”

*

They weren’t late, but someone else was. Twenty minutes late, to be more precise. And that someone was Geralt.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said in reply to Eskel’s disapproving glance, closing the door behind him. “I was working, forgot time existed.”

“So… as usual?” Renfri smirked.

“Hush, Renfri,” Geralt glared. “It only happens once a month.”

“More like once a week,” Renfri replied.

“Thrice,” Ciri said.

“Did I ask for your opinions?” Geralt growled.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Jaskier peeped, raising his hand. “I don’t wanna sound like an idiot, really, but… What is it that you do? I mean… your job?”

“Oh, dad’s a blacksmith, and a jeweler!” Ciri announced. “He makes those cool iron monsters and wrought iron fences and amazing rings and necklaces and earrings. Look, he made me this!”

She showed Jaskier her necklace – a beautiful swallow made of silver.

“It’s lovely,” Jaskier smiled. “Wow. Really… Wow. Geralt, what do you want for making a cool necklace for me, too? I’m kind of broke now, I have to admit, but I could offer you my firstborn, if you wanted.”

“I’m kind of glad you asked,” Geralt said. “Because that’s precisely the work I got so lost in.”

“Excuse me?”

Geralt reached into his jacket pocket and took out a pendant on a silver chain.

“I made this pendant for every member of the band. A common symbol, you might call it. A white wolf. Well, a silver wolf, really.”

“Like in the logo of Kaer Morhen? Seriously?” Jaskier blinked.

“Seriously,” Geralt smiled. “And this one is yours.”

“Mine?!”

“You are the member of the band, aren’t you?” Geralt said, raising his eyebrow. “Consider this a welcome gift. No firstborns needed.”

Jaskier raised his hand to gently touch the pendant.

“You’re kidding, right? You gotta be kidding me. How many hours did you spend making that?!”

“Not as many as you probably think,” Geralt chuckled. “I mean it. Take it. It’s yours.”

“I… Thanks, Geralt,” Jaskier beamed and took the necklace from Geralt’s hand. “It’s beautiful. But now I’m realizing… Cirilla!”

“Wow. You sounded just like dad,” the girl said. “And yeah. I knew. That’s why I wouldn’t let you buy any kind of necklace. Sorry?”

“You should be ashamed for lying to me like that,” Jaskier smirked, fastening the necklace around his neck. “How do I look?”

“Gorgeous as always,” Renfri smiled. “Welcome to the band, Jaskier. Officially.”

Eskel cleared his throat.

“Yeah, welcome. There are a few rules you need to know about before you start. Rule number one – if we say the rehearsal is starting at… let’s say seven...”

“And here we go,” Lambert smirked. “Relax, Eskel, we’ll begin in a minute. Jaskier! Have you, by chance, managed to finish that stupidly catchy song that’s been stuck in my head for… five hours now?”

“Toss A Coin?” Jaskier beamed. “Well, I have, actually! Turns out horrible hangovers are surprisingly inspirational. Would you like to hear?”

“Oh, yes!” Ciri said.

“Sure thing,” Renfri nodded. “Hey! We could even squeeze it into the setlist for the next gig! Try it out. See how people like it!”

“You think Geralt will be able to learn a song in a week?” Lambert smirked. “Ouch! That really hurt, Geralt!”

“I hope it did,” Geralt growled.

“You realize that you’re expecting me to learn several songs during the very same week?” Jaskier asked.

“Yeah, but you’re… clever,” Lambert smirked. “Ouch! Eskel, tell Geralt to stop hitting me!”

Eskel raised his drumstick.

“If you don’t stop talking so we can start, I’m gonna help him!”

“I feel very unloved right now,” Lambert muttered.

“You are very unloved right now, I think,” Renfri chuckled.

“Play us the song, Jask,” Geralt said. “Quick. I think Eskel is about to have a heart attack. Ow. Fuck you, Eskel, I’m on your side!”

“Shut up, then,” Eskel growled. “Jaskier. Take your guitar and fucking play.”

“You know, nobody ever told me playing in a metal band was so risky,” Jaskier said. “If I knew… No, no, no, don’t hit the poor bard! I’m playing, see? See? Now, how did it… Oh, yes. When a humble bard…”

“So unrealistic,” Lambert whispered, and Geralt chuckled.

“Poetic license,” he muttered.

Jaskier winked and kept on singing.

Oh, how he already loved this band of idiots.

*

Late that night, already in bed, Jaskier opened his Instagram. He knew he probably shouldn’t. Blue light and all that jazz, right? But he was used to browsing his social media before going to sleep, and hey, he never had any trouble sleeping afterwards. So he opened it, only to find out that he had been tagged in a pic… by Renfri?

He looked at the pic. And blinked. And blinked again.

He hadn’t noticed her even taking the photo, but she must have, somehow.

It was of him and Geralt, face to face, both holding their microphones and apparently singing, eyes closed, faces intense with concentration. It must have been in the second half of the rehearsal, because Geralt had already taken off his jacket. He was only in his absolutely inappropriate tight black T-shirt, and it took all of Jaskier’s willpower not to look at those muscular arms. He scrolled to the caption.

Because it seems that everybody wants to see those two morons on a pic together, I give you: the mighty White Wolf and @jaskierthebard working on Toss a Coin To Your Witcher. And let me tell you – they don’t just look good together, they also sound AMAZING. I can’t wait to play this song live!

#kaermorhen #workinghard #rehearsing #thebardandthewolf

Jaskier rolled his eyes.

The Bard and the Wolf? Seriously?

Yeah, that was never going to catch on…

Continue with Chapter Six

[famous-aces]

Morrissey

Who: Steven Patrick Morrissey

What: Musician

Where: English (Active, internationally)

When: May 22, 1959 - Present

(Image Description: a black and white photo of Morrissey from 1992.  He is a young white man in his early thirties with dark hair and eyes. His hair is short and messy.  He has thick eyebrows and a strong jawline. He is smiling very slightly. He is wearing a pale knit sweater. End ID)

Morrisey is one of those world-famous single named singers: Cher, Sting, Prince, Madonna, Morrissey. Perhaps a little Bono as, while he is more ironic and droll than the U2 frontman, he also has a reputation for douche-baggery.  Morrissey is famous for his music's bleak drama blended with bleak humor, sexually ambiguousness, themes of the past and self-reflection, and being an all around "anti-pop idol".

Morrissey made a name for himself as the frontman for The Smiths in the 1980s (1982-87), but has a successful solo career since 1988 with only a brief hiatus from '98-'03.  His most beloved albums include The Queen is Dead (1986), Strangeways, Here We Come (1987), Viva Hate (1988), Your Arsenal (1992), Vauxhall and I (1994), You are the Quarry (2004), Years of Refusal (2009). His most recey album (California Son) came out in February of this year (2019).

He is outspoken politically on, for example, vegetarianism and animal rights and against the monarchy and Americanization. In 2006 a BBC poll voted him the second greatest living British cultural icon.

I admit that while I like the Smiths well enough I had never liked them enough to really follow Morrissey's career, which is odd as I do like the whole punk/new wave/post punk scene very much. But I started listening to him a bit for this and a bit depressing but quite good.

(Image description: a photo of the Smiths backstage in 1984 by Tom Sheehan.  From left to right Andy Rourke [a white man with brown hair and a leather jacket. Below that he has on a shirt with what I think is a crow on it. He has his bass slung around his neck and his hands behind his back. He has his head slightly cocked], Morrissey [wearing a striped shirt with a low neck, long necklaces, and square glasses. He has his arms crossed], Mike Joyce [pale with black hair spiked up and his bangs falling into his face. He has on a Smiths t-shirt and is mostly hidden behind the others], and Johnny Marr [pale with a black mop top with long bangs, he is thin with an angular face, he is wearing a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He has his guitar slung around his neck and fingers on the frets.] End ID)

Orientation: Humasexual (A word of Morrissey's own creation meaning "attracted to humans" but I will go into why, in Morrissey's case, it seems to fit under the asexual umbrella.)

I'm breaking my own rule here. Morrissey does not call himself "asexual," but uses his own term: humasexual. But as he defines the term and the nature of his sexual/romantic orientation it fits under the aspec umbrella. At one point Morrissey identifed as a bisexual who "hates sex" and later a "non-practicing bisexual," but be later abandoned that terminology. By the 2010s he was very open on the exact nature of his orientation.

While I would not go up to him and demand he identify as aspec the experience he describes does fit in fairly neatly into our letter of the Alphabet Soup. Again, I would not demand anything of him. He is a human person. Sexual orientation is, in the end, highly personal and individual. Do not be The Guy/Gal/Person. In the end everyone is entitled to name and define their own experience.

It may seem odd that a man who writes a lot about sex/sexual desire in his music could be asexual, but I don't think writing is necessarily indicative of the writer's true feelings.  Morrissey agrees, saying time and time again from his earliest fame that he is writing a general story, not a biography. He says of his lyrics that "It was very important for me to try and write for everybody...nothing is ever open and shut.". Remember, while the artist always leaves a trace of themself in their art it is not always in the most obvious way.

I believe his humasexual might be closer to demi (or perhaps gray) than it is to utterly asexual. Aspec, but not at the zero/zero point, when we get to the quotes section I will explain further.  Morrissey is definitely not aromantic. But he was intentionally celibate until his mid-thirties. It was then he had his first serious relationship, all by his own admission, not being interested in sex much before that.  He still seems to have stints of celibacy. Sex as a "maybe" or a shrug rather than a necessity. And again it took a deep personal connection to his partner for him to even feel the urge to have sex. Indeed, he claimed to "hate" sex before that.

I hope to clear things up in the quotes section when I let Morrissey speak for himself, which he has done, extensively. I included quotes from his most recent public discussion on the matter from 2013.

(Image Description: a more recent photo of Morrissey performing on stage this one in color. He has graying hair now and is slightly larger than he was as a younger man, though he is not overweight. He is just less trim. He is wearing a dark suit. His face is wracked with emotion, eyes closed, mouth open. He has one hand in front of him, open palmed. The other holds the mic to his mouth.  End ID)

“Unfortunately, I am not homosexual. In technical fact, I am humasexual. I am attracted to humans.  But, of course . . . not many.”

-Morrissey in a statement from October 2013 (quoted by Time Magazine. Emphasis in original as it is the same in multiple sources) (I think this should be obvious. Again, labels are entirely up to the person using them and thus I am not applying one to Morrissey, but clearly he could stand under the ace umbrella mspec romantically and aspec sexually)

"[F]or the first time in my life the eternal ‘I’ becomes ‘we’, as, finally, I can get on with someone, Jake [Owen Walters] and I neither sought not needed company other than our own for the whirlwind stretch to come.”  

-Morrissey in his 2013 memoir Autobiography.  (Walters was his first serious relationship.  The relationship began in 1994 and ended in 1996. It describes sentiment echoed by many demisexuals "'I' becomes 'we'" and "finally I can get on with someone". Also the idea of solitude may reflect an aspec relationship.)

"Girls remained mysteriously attracted to me, and I had no idea why, since although each fumbling foray hit the target, nothing electrifying took place, and I turned a thousand corners without caring … Far more exciting were the array of stylish racing bikes that my father would bring home.”

-Morrissey on being a teenager in that same memoir

"I don't recognise such terms as heterosexuality, homosexuality, bisexuality, and I think it's important that there's someone in pop music who's like that. These words do great damage, they confuse people and they make people feel unhappy so I want to do away with them."

-Morrissey in a 1985 interview. (I don't agree with him in the least, my label makes me very happy and I know it makes many other people happy [although I did feel like this before I had my asexual label.] I think he might have been projecting. I think his not quite fitting into anything made him uncomfortable and it shows why he might not be inclined to stick to a traditional label and instead invent his own.)

[Nick] Kent: …[Y]out write a lot about homosexual longing.

Morrissey: I've always said that I leave things very open and that I sing about people. Without limitation. And I don't think that automatically makes me homosexual.

Kent: What about...sexual relationships?

Morrissey: I don't have relationships at all. It's out of the question.

Kent: Why?

Morrissey: Partly because I have always been attracted to men or women who were never attracted to me. And I was never attracted to men or women who were attracted to me. So that's the problem. I've never met the right person.

-A 1985 interview with Nick Kent, quoted by David Brent in Morrissey: Scandal and Passion (2004) (not finding "the right person" seems quite demi to me. He also says that is "part" of the reason. So there is probably a more complicated reason too. Also of note, Morrissey doesn't like Kent [or at least didn't at the time] so odds are he was disinclined to further articulate his most personal life to him. But that is purely speculation and it is dicey waters even speculating that much.)

(Image Description: the album cover of You are the Quarry. It shows Morrissey on a red background holding an old fashioned Tommy gun and wearing an old fashioned pin stripe suit. He takes up most of the left side of the image. Beside him on the right it says "Morrissey, You are the Quarry." End ID)

[nanyoky]

HAD ONE ON AN EMPTY STOMACH AND NOW TIME FOR THE BIG SHOW

OH god it’s a CHRISTMAS EPISODE. our core four pairs have broken up, fp is about to die and it’s a CHRISTMAS EPISODE

mary booked a singles cruise so i guess they couldn’t get molly ringwald for more eps this season

yay my girl polly’s back for a presumably horrifying dream sequence

That Kubrick-esque centered shot of Hood!santa climbing over the couch back????? *kisses fingers like cartoon italian chef*

Cheryl still EXPECTS her mother to put out jason’s stocking and demands to know what such a tiny candycane is doing in their home because she is still GRIEVING but still SO MUCH . this is what the death of a twin looks like take fuckin note marvel

Also nana rose didn’t die in the fire? so that’s nice.

“86,000″ “what- dollars?” like the hospital in smalltown usa might charge people in pesos or forint- godbless you archie

“Kevin’s secret santa has a 20$ limit” “Kevin needs to chill” no, v, YOU need to chill. or rather don’t. because we love you so much.

“Havent you heard? we’re still friends!” “oh yeah. isnl’t everyone?” i love these girls almost as much as the lund and byerly’s checkout lady who never judges my wednesday night sale sushi runs

fp looks so thin without his jacket and warm vestiges i’m worried about him is he taking his vitamins eating his spinach if he has been surviving on hot pockets and beer since he got out i will be so cross with him

“BOY.” i’m DISTRAUGHT. fp and jughead are living together again and we’re finally getting to see what that looks like and it’s exactly as heartbreaking as we knew it would be

also fp wears his wallet with a stylish chain that goes from his pocket to his beltloop because it’s apparently 2008 in that trailer

“Couples massage.... thanks” “You can go with betty!” audience: YES PLEASE.

also who the fuck would do a couples massage with their highschool boyfriend- veronica lodge that’s who, but who ELSE.

archie didn’t spend any money on his gift and it is obviously the ebst one int he exchange and we love him

MOOSE AND MIDGE ARE HERE TO MAKE THINGS WEIRD FOR KEVIN (HOPEFULLY)

REGGIE *SPRINTS* TO HUG MOOSE AND THE SHIP I DIDN’T KNOW I NEEDED EMERGES

oh dear. mr. svenson. of course i love that betty and co. know the janitor at their school’s name. is that normal? i went to an enormous highschool- i barely knew my teacher’s names half the time. but i imagine it’s very sweet and very betty of her.

oh god jughead came to riverdale high for the gift exchange because he’s a good dude. a good dude.

his little SMILE when he feels how heavy it is is the most boyish he’s looked since the scene where we find out fp is his dad in the drive in episode and I’M NOT OKAY

veronica giving archie an expensive engraved watch is CLASS COMMENTARY and it is very good of archie to try to explain that to her calmly and without accusation or bitterness i don’t know if i would handle it that well cuz fun fact i once accused a guy of making me into Pygmalion because he tried to take me to a restaurant with multiple spoons

jughead wants to help but now sweetpea has replaced joaquin as the unreasonably beautiful surrogate son fp feels more comfortable putting in danger than his own kid help

what is the point of showing cheryl is interested in buying a tree? other than maybe she’s going to spend more than her mom can afford now??? or that she’s back at archie now that josie is weirded out by her possessive obsessive tendencies? not sure what the point of that was

nice reverse zoom/dolly into a dutch angle on this modest janitor house

the parole officer calls him “jughead” that is all

hermione and hiram being deliberately flirty in front of veronica after she and hermione had that talk about loving one’s partner

“Since when are you a communist *deliberate eyeroll at hiram*” i still can’t tell whether season 1!hermione or season 2!hermione is the act and i’m still RIVETED

okay it was to show she’s just spending a bunch of money to piss off penelope who coincidentally, is wearing a WINNER of an outfit rn damn son i have that but like- not as good cuz my black lace sheath is from target

not to take credit away from cheryl’s high quality cherry sweater

“you should have drowned them at birth like a basket of kittens” NANA ROSE. NANA FUCKIN ROSE. COMIN IN HOT FOR THE HOLIDAYS.

i honestly don’t know if it’s ever stated if nana rose is penelope’s mom or clifford’s but judging purely on penelope’s eyeroll and non-verbal expression of “UGG. MOTHERRRRR” i’mma say her’s.

betty pulls her sweater over her hands when approaching her mother because how often did alice tug roughly at young!betty’s clothes to make sure she was PICTURE PERFECT at all times

we all knew that it was going to be a finger right we all knew

and of course she only tells archie because this is betty cooper we’re talking about

“would the sisters talk to us?” “pft- they better” betty’s gunna beat up a nun

also my first assumption is that the janitor’s sin is pointing out the wrong guy to the lynch mob??? could be wrong but it seems kinda odd that archie isn’t bringing up that part of the story

the lodges have the same “christmas classics” cd as my mom because of course they do

the fact that veronica finds the deed to pop’s and doesn’t react in shock or anger but sits back in her dad’s leather office chair and crosses her legs to think things over is CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

jughead knows fp too well to apologize for thinking badly of him and the duffles and IT HURTS SO GOOD

“maybe this isn’t gunna work- us living together” FP ISN’T A DAD HE’S A BIG BROTHER AND I KEEP SAYING IT BUT IT KEEPS HURTING EVERY TIME IT’S PROVEN TRUE

oh god jughead is calling on the next gen serpents for help this isn’t going to end well, son

“take out penny” take out? TAKE OUT???? TAKE OUT?!?!?! JUGGIE. take a nap.

sweet pea and fangs are either the bestest of bros or engaged to be wedded i can’t decipher their eye communication exactly

the serpents are FACTIONING and this CANNOT end well

“it was a group of men... and one woman” FOUNDING FAMILIES FOUNDING FAMILIES FOUNDING FAMILIES

next gen serpents are going to fuck everything up and i can’t take jughead trying to do an intimidating under the brows stare seriously

we all think that nun is the drug dealer lady in the wheelchair right?

“white with a cherry red stripe” THAT’S MY GIRL. THAT’S MY NANA ROSE. BACK WITH PLOT AND BACKSTORY. BATTING FOR THE TEAM. NANA ROSE BLOSSOM.

“the truth” THE LODGE TRUTH. HOOO BOY. *pours another drink*

OH MY GOD IS HE CUTTING IT OFF JUGHEAD. JUGHEAD. BETTY HAS BEEN A BAD INFLUENCE ON YOU.

i just pictured fp’s face if he saw this and did the most ridiculous puppy whine

“oh noooo. no girls allowed” NANA ROSE BLOSSOM. MY MAIN GIRL.

founding families. what did i say.

hefty sigh at barchie kiss. like- i’d be more into this if they actually built it and didn’t keep breaking up and putting everyone back together back and forth

oh cheryl saw- THAT i’m interested in

they’re not going to tell us the lodge truth because they’re bastards

penny didn’t show up for your pickup, did she?” “no.... no she didn’t.” JUGHEAD IS THE PARENT AND FP IS THE KID AND IT IS HORRIBLE AND PERVERSE AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH

“this life you tried to protect me from? i’m proud of it!” *WHALE NOISES* FP’S FACE. FP’S *FACE*. THIS IS THE LOOSE HENRIAD CRIME FAMILY AU I’VE BEEN HURTING FOR.

oh god there’s one black guy in the picture please don’t tell me our sweet angel pop was involved in this how old is pop he’s not old enough right tell me he had no part in this

*DISTRESS SCREEEEE*

UNMASK HIM BETTY UNMASK HIM ARCHIE IS FINE HE’S A BIG STRONG BOY WHO CAN TAKE A LITTLE DIRT IN HIS FACE

oh god oh god oh god did sheriff keller shoot bh so he can’t talk oh god oh god oh god

this is too easy and we all know it i’m still pulling my multiple killers theory and i haven’t given up on shady!keller yet

weird sound editing trying to give studio quality to josie and kevin just jammin acapella outside a diner

WHO THE FUCK IS PENELOPE SNOGGIN ON XMAS MORN?!?!?!

YASSS JUGHEAD GETS HER A SIGNED FIRST EDITION OF BELOVED WHICH I HAVE BASICALLY BEEN WAITING FOR SINCE BETTY SAID SHE LOVES TONI MORRISON IN EPISODE ONE. well- not exactly this. but that IS one of my alltime favorite books and a huge influence on my own gothic writing so to see it referenced on this show is just GRAND

we all know it’s not over juggie, we all know.

Episode Scorecard:

Number of sick beat drop rhythmic editing moments: none

Episode hair MVP: Nana rose’s stripe was featured as a plot point and is always of the highest quality

Do I still miss Joaquin: yes

Episode outfit MVP: Penelope’s black lace sheath

Cast/Crew shoutout: There were some really solid cinematography moments, but I would have liked to see better editing? pacing was a bit rough.

[wp-yahoo-style-1042-yahoopa-blog]

Every College Accepted Her: 'Black-ish' Star Yara Shahidi Is Hollywood‘s Most Stylish History Nerd

Yara Shahidi wears a paneled leather jacket and belt, both by Prada. (Photo: Christine Hahn; styling by Christopher Kim)

Yara Shahidi photographed by Christine Hahn and styled by Christopher Kim for Yahoo Style; hair by Noel for Ken Barboza Agency using Framesi curl define; makeup by Emily Cheng for Nars. 

Fame and success, it goes without saying, have many sweet perks.

For Yara Shahidi, the breakout star of the ABC hit Black-ish, it meant getting to know former first lady Michelle Obama. And having her write those burdensome but necessary college recommendation letters, which got her accepted into all seven schools she applied to: two Ivy Leagues, four state institutions, and one historically black college.

Having Obama pen those references, Shahidi tells Yahoo Style, felt “surreal. I’ve been able to work beside her on her education initiative and her support is surreal.”

She’s been to the White House multiple times, including for the Persian New Year celebration last April — Shahidi’s mom is the effervescent African-American commercial actress Keri Shahidi, and her dad is the Iranian-American cinematographer Afshin Shahidi. But seriously, how do they stay in touch? Can Shahidi just text or email or direct-message Michelle Obama? “Ha, ha. I’m not revealing our form of communication. It’s by carrier pigeon,” she quips.

Shahidi has, at the moment of her interview and photo shoot, already been on the go for more than 12 hours, after catching a red-eye from Los Angeles, where she’s based, to New York, to promote her show and attend a few events. To wit: not a single whine, eye roll, or demand for caffeine from the 17-year-old actress. She sits patiently as her makeup is applied; a vision of grace under pressure.

Shahidi wears a Miu Miu coat and knit shirt with vintage jeans. (Photo: Christine Hahn; styling by Christopher Kim)

The actress loves her tresses “curly and huge. I tend to have a natural mop top when I do my hair and I fully embrace it. I’ve done a year of no heat. It’s just helped so much. After all that effort, you have no choice but to take care of your hair,” she says.

Her style is equally on point. Her first major splurge after landing the Black-ish role was a pair of Stella McCartney high-top sneakers. Yes, that’s her, in a black-and-white checked tulle number from Virgil Abloh’s super-hot Off-White line, and then switching into a look from Bibhu Mohapatra’s spring 2017 collection at the People’s Choice awards. One of her other favorite looks: the stunning multi-colored striped gown from Naeem Khan she wore to the SAG Awards.

“I don’t always know what works. My style is ever changing. I’m always willing to try new things. We find some really awesome moments. It goes from being utilitarian to a ton of fun colors and patterns. I embrace the wave,” she says.

She feels in her element when the look involves “a tux, huge curls and a good, nice, fresh face. Today, I’m kind of obsessed with my eyebrows.”

Left, Shahidi wears Prada paneled leather jacket with Prada belt; right, she wears a Miu Miu jacket and knit shirt with vintage jeans. (Photo: Christine Hahn; Styling by Christopher Kim)

Her summer plans include graduating from high school and maybe taking a family vacation and then, figuring out college plans. She won’t say where she got accepted, or which one she’s leaning towards; she plans to defer for a year, like Malia Obama.

“Maybe once I commit to a school [I’ll announce it]. I don’t know yet actually. It’s still so new. I’m still personally adjusting. I just got the physical letters in the mail yesterday. I got some nice stickers,” she says.

School was always in the cards for Shahidi. Instead of attending February Fashion Week in New York, she toured college campuses. Her TV persona is in line with her future plans: she plays precocious, smart, popular, and perpetually stylish Zoey on Black-ish. The network is planning a spinoff around Zoey attending college, which syncs perfectly with Shahidi’s real-life goals of earning a double major in sociology and African-American studies.

Shahidi wears a Miu Miu coat and Miu Miu knit shirt with vintage jeans. (Photo: Christine Hahn; styling by Christopher Kim)

Her acting success, says Shahidi, is gratifying, to be certain, but won’t impact her plans to get a degree, much like Natalie Portman and Jodie Foster, who went to Harvard and Yale, and Brooke Shields, who graduated from Princeton.

“If anything, that’s the one thing I’ve been planning for as long as I can remember, partly because I’ve always wanted to be in an academic space. I love Black-ish and I love my job, but I’ve been planning to go to college for a very long time,” she says.

She plans to work with the Obama Foundation, after already being part of the presidential couple’s Let Girls Learn initiative and being a vocal and well-versed activist — speaking out against President Trump’s travel ban, for example.

“I describe what I want to do as politics-adjacent. I don’t know if politics, but D.C. definitely. D.C. is one of my favorite places. As a history nerd, it’s both a place that’s representative of colonial power and old-time America that’s extremely flawed, as well as so many young change makers being there,” she says.

Welcome to the Family ⚡️ Thank you @cindi_leive @thisismayan @glamourmag for highlighting familial generations, love, and support. On stands now ❤️

A post shared by Yara (يارا‎) Shahidi (@yarashahidi) on Apr 5, 2017 at 9:20am PDT

Shahidi is so eloquent and thoughtful, you forget she’s just a teenager. Her favorite author is Kurt Vonnegut, and her role model is her mom, Keri, whose lady-empowering and highly stylish Instagram feed is beloved by her daughter’s friends; the elder Shahidi refers to her daughter as “Lil Mama” and says she learns from her all the time. Little wonder why.

“Cat’s Cradle is one of my favorite books. If I ever get a tattoo, I want one of them to be a James Baldwin quote and ‘So It Goes,’ from Slaughterhouse-Five,”  says Yara Shahidi.

Her social media presence is equally well-informed and uplifting.

“I try to be as responsible as possible. In terms of what I post, of what I put out into the universe. It’s easy to get caught up in the insanity of the world right now. We’re not passive members of our own society,” she says.

Words that would make a certain someone named Michelle proud.

Read more from Yahoo Beauty + Style:

Jessica Chastain’s Fairy-Tale Fashion Moment Isn’t What You Think

In Big Little Lies, Nicole Kidman Learned How to Cover Her Bruises on Camera

Scarlett Johansson Is ‘Incredibly Proud’ to Show Her Daughter She’s a Working Mom

Actress Joey King’s KFC Prom Corsage Has to Be Smelled to Be Believed

Follow us on Instagram, Facebook, and Pinterest for nonstop inspiration delivered fresh to your feed, every day. For Twitter updates, follow @YahooStyle and @YahooBeauty.

[unclebeggar93-blog]

5 Favorites – Tarek & Justin from The Blue Stones

Sure it’s just stuff. But stuff can make life easier, more enjoyable, etc… Every so often we ask one of our favorite, style-appreciating people to rattle off their five favorite things. Sometimes those things will fit into the realm of “affordable,” and sometimes they won’t. We’re going for the favorites here.

Tarek and Justin of The Blue Stones have been reading Dappered for a long time. Like, a really long time. So long that we’ve been able to track their progress from baby band, to a duo with over 10 million Spotify streams (from just two singles!) under their belts. You’ve probably already heard their music. Their songs have been used in everything from shows like Parks and Rec, to bumper music on NBC’s Sunday Night Football.

These two from Windsor Canada can make one hell of a lot of sound between them, and they proudly describe their version of rock and roll as “music we want to hear.” I can’t even recall how they connected with us at Dappered. Way back when they got our attention with some style questions (I think?) and we’ve been rooting for them ever since. They have a REALLY bright future, and their new album drops this Friday October 26th.

If you haven’t hopped on the vinyl train yet, it’s a great time to do so. Many turntable setups and speaker systems are available at inexpensive prices due to the current resurgence in vinyl popularity. There’s nothing like appreciating a beloved album or single in hi-fidelity. Also, record players bring back the experience of listening to music that’s more focused than hopping between random playlists on a streaming platform. Even for casual music listeners, building a collection of your favorite records will give you a reason to sit back and listen again, while also serving as a great conversation point to house-guests.

I know many readers have probably heard this one before, but dark denim is likely the most versatile piece of clothing you can own. As a backbone to many outfits you can wear year round, it’s a must have for the modern man’s wardrobe. If you’re not the skinny fit type, go for the slim taper cut to maintain the fitted look while staying comfortable. Pair them with a comfy T-Shirt and bomber for the weekends, or a tucked collared shirt and blazer for your night’s out, or an untucked, patterned button-up and some boots for a trip into town…the possibilities are (somewhat) endless.

If you’re into live shows, this app is a must-have. Set your location, favourite bands and you’re off. Bandsintown will notify you every time a show has been announced within a customizable radius around your location. Also, it offers the ability to sync with Spotify, Apple Music, and a range of other music platforms to make tracking effortless. Bandsintown will also recommend other shows in your area that you may enjoy based off similar interests, and allow you to RSVP and buy tickets within the app. It’s a no-brainer for any live show fan, and an easy way to get into the scene if you’re not.

For any weird ear anatomy sufferers like myself, finding a pair of headphones that actually stay on—or in—while working out is a journey. Mine ended when I found the Powerbeats. Wireless connectivity to let you focus on your reps rather than where the cables have ended up, as well as ear hooks and in-ear buds to make sure those damn things stay on. Not to mention great sound quality to keep you motivated and sweating. The beats are also great for commutes, or keeping your hands free for housework while on the phone. Yes, at home…don’t be the public loudspeaker guy.

When I first heard of MVMT’s inexpensive but stylish brand of timepieces several years ago, I shot over to their site to see what was in stock. At the time, although simple and clean, most of their watch faces were far too oversized for my taste. However, after learning about there slick new line of 40 mm watch faces—aptly named the “Forty Series”—I became the owner of a “Black Silver” MVMT watch and haven’t stopped wearing it since. It’s just as wearable with a suit as it is with a T-shirt and jeans. Freaky, right? With a wide range of bands, colors, and sizes, MVMT’s Forty Series is an easy favorite for me.

Sometimes you feel weird going to the gym with a gorgeous leather duffel. And you (should) always feel weird bringing a giveaway “hey thanks for signing up for a membership!” gym duffel to the office. This bag is stylish enough for the office, but the nylon material makes it an easy fit for the gym, too. The compartmentalized shoe bag is entirely underrated— put your dirty gym clothes in there to keep it away from the stuff in the main compartment of the bag. Tons of space, great construction and fits as carry-on for every flight I’ve been on. Lifetime warranty, and the brand carries a “cool” factor that isn’t too young. Tons of pattern and color combinations if all black is’t your thing.

The “Cute vs. Sexy” post here on Dappered really resonated with me. There was a big disconnect for me, some days I would feel great about what I was wearing and other days not so much… even though I was following all the “rules”. Problem was, the specific combinations sometimes gave too much of a cute/innocent look than I wanted. A denim jacket adds a ton of “badass factor” to practically any outfit. It can even be styled for business casual scenarios (depending on your work environment, of course). Use it in lieu of a blazer with a micro-patterned shirt and chinos for less of a “professor” look and more of a rock ‘n roll vibe. In my opinion, it’s a must-own item for any style-minded dude. Go with black or light wash… contrast is key here, especially if wearing it with dark denim and trying to avoid the Canadian Tuxedo look.

By far the most efficient and useful way to make good coffee on the road. Designed by the same guy who made the Aerobie Flying Disc… weirdly enough. This is the cool secret of the coffee industry, the incredibly versatile toy that baristas love to experiment with. Yes it’s a plastic tube with a plunger, but once you start making coffee with this thing you won’t use your automatic brewer again.

Gets a really bad rap these days from a lot of artists due to low payouts, but I’m choosing to look at the good side. The music industry has just started to see profits climb back again for the first time since Napster brought the house down. Yeah the payouts are low, but in 2010 the payouts were zero. And with everyone in the world paying a small fee to have unlimited access to music, accessing small independent artists has never been easier. You pay just as much to be able to listen to The Rolling Stones as you do to listen to the kids down the street making music in their garage. There’s no more gambling your money on an album that could turn out to suck. The discovery algorithms work really well to dial in your taste and you fall in love with a band you never would otherwise have discovered. It’s the great equalizer, and is launching the careers of tons of artists, The Blue Stones included. More people listening to more music is ultimately a good thing for everybody.

It’s the “lite” version of New York — all the same stuff you love about NYC but cleaner, friendlier, and cheaper. Especially cheaper if your salary is paid in American Greenbacks, thanks to a great exchange rate ($500 USD is about $650 CAD). West Queen West (the Western area of Queen St. W) was recently named one of the top 5 coolest neighbourhoods in the world by Vogue magazine. Fantastic music at all levels from grassroots indie to arena, world-class dining, baseball, basketball, hockey, soccer and even professional football. Shopping galore from hip design startups to gigantic malls. Just don’t come in the winter.

The new album from The Blue Stones, “Black Holes”, comes out this Friday October 26th. Agree with Tarek that Vinyl is sweet? You can get the new record on good ol’ vinyl too. Good luck fellas!

Source: https://dappered.com/2018/10/5-favorites-tarek-justin-from-the-blue-stones/