#How to do pearl embroidery?

[fashioninstitutechennai-blog]

Pearl Embroidery Course: How to Learn the Art of Embroidery?

Embroidery is a beautiful art form that has been around for centuries. It involves stitching designs onto fabric using various techniques and materials. Pearl embroidery is a specific type of embroidery that involves the use of pearls, and beads. It utilizes other embellishments to create intricate designs. Are you interested in learning this art of embroidery? Then taking this course is a great…

[marzennya]

The Northern Consort used to be a spy, don't you know? A good one, too...only the heavens know how far that particular web goes, but it benefits the Emperor's reign, and the Empress is found of him, so who are we to judge, eh?

[+200 Better Lore points!]

Empress Shen is finally here, my God! How difficult was this particular beast, eh? It took me, like, five or six redesigns! The balance between feminine and masculine really kicked my ass here...I think I did pretty well, if you take in account everything. I'm proud of myself, so all of you must be nice to me.

The drama is set during the warring states period, my inspiration was mostly from how they costumed the Queen of Zhao, the dowager Queen of Qin and Haolan when she finally becomes the Queen of Qin. They are all gorgeously dressed, I recommend watching it PURELY for the costuming and also the scheming women.

The design was immensely inspired by the Chinese drama The Legend of Haolan. The main character just has this impeccable Shen Qingqiu face-card, every time I see her I just think 'Yes, Shen Qingqiu, for sure.' Here's her, for reference:

For Shang Qinghua, things were so much easier, though; I watched some episodes of Story of Yanxi Palace and was struck by inspiration™. He was so easy to draw! It's all very Qing dynasty inspired, it just fits him, I think.

It took me so very long to draw the jewellery and the embroidery in both of them...I admire the people who actually do metal and needlework. Heroes, all of them.

The pearl makeup is one of my favourite ancient Chinese makeup trends; I just had to put it in. It's a very fancy form of Huadian, which is where you draw forms, mostly flowers and other pretty things on your face using paints, powders, pearls, gems and glued flowers, and it was popular from the Tang dynasty onwards. The ICONIC pearl Huadian was popularized in the Song dynasty because it (shockingly) represented modesty and elegance.

Shen Qingqiu's greenest ornaments are made out of imperial jade, which is characterized by this vibrant emerald green colour and great translucency. It's also the most expensive type of jade ever.

The! Nail! Guards! Make! A! Comeback!

Shang Qinghua's ornaments are, in the other hand, made out of pearls - for elegance, wisdom, and wealth, and blue jade, for serenity, peace of mind and self-reflection. Mobei-jun buys all of his husband's jewellery with intention, for sure.

They're such big gossips omg, nobody is safe.

[vinceaddams]

Any tips on learning to make buttonholes? I've been putting it off for.... *checks notes* like three years.... but better late than never and all that. I don't have any fancy machines so I gotta do it by hand but that seems right up your alley.

Thanks!

It IS up my alley, yes, I do most of my buttonholes by hand!

I'm actually part way through filming an 18th century buttonhole tutorial, but I expect it'll be a few more weeks before I finish that and put it on the youtubes, so in the meantime here's the very very short version. (The long version is looking like it'll probably be about 40 minutes maybe, judging by how much script I've written compared to my last video?)

Mark your line, a bit longer than your button is wide. I usually use a graphite mechanical pencil on light fabrics, and a light coloured pencil crayon on dark ones. (I have fabric pencils too, but they're much softer and leave a thicker line.) You may want to baste the layers together around all the marked buttonholes if you're working on something big and the layers are shifty and slippery. I'm not basting here because this is just a pants placket.

Do a little running stitch (or perhaps a running backstitch) in fine thread around the line at the width you want the finished buttonhole to be. This holds the layers of fabric together and acts as a nice little guide for when you do the buttonhole stitches.

Cut along the marked line using a buttonhole cutter, or a woodworking chisel. Glossy magazines are the best surface to put underneath your work as you push down, and you can give it a little tap with a rubber mallet if it's not going through all the way.

I'm aware that there are some people who cut their buttonholes open using seam rippers, and if any of them are reading this please know that that is abhorrent behaviour and I need you to stop it immediately. Stop it.

Go get a buttonhole cutter for 10 bucks and your life will be better for it. Or go to the nearest hardware store and get a little woodworking chisel. This includes machine buttonholes, use the buttonhole cutter on them too. If you continue to cut open buttonholes with a seam ripper after reading this you are personally responsible for at least 3 of the grey hairs on my head.

Do a whipstitch around the cut edges, to help prevent fraying while you work and to keep all those threads out of the way. (For my everyday shirts I usually do a machine buttonhole instead of this step, and then just hand stitch over it, because it's a bit faster and a lot sturdier on the thin fabrics.)

I like to mark out my button locations at this point, because I can mark them through the holes without the buttonhole stitches getting in the way.

For the actual buttonhole stitches it's really nice if you have silk buttonhole twist, but I usually use those little balls of DMC cotton pearl/perle because it's cheap and a good weight. NOT stranded embroidery floss, no separate strands! It's got to be one smooth twisted thing!

Here's a comparison pic between silk buttonhole twist (left) and cotton pearl (right). Both can make nice looking buttonholes, but the silk is a bit nicer to work with and the knots line up more smoothly.

I've actually only used the silk for one garment ever, but am going to try to do it more often on my nicer things. I find the cotton holds up well enough to daily wear though, despite being not ideal. The buttonholes are never the first part of my garments to wear out.

I cut a piece of about one arm's length more or less, depending on the size of buttonhole. For any hole longer than about 4cm I use 2 threads, one to do each side, because the end gets very frayed and scruffy by the time you've put it through the fabric that many times.

I wax about 2cm of the tip (Not the entire thread. I wax the outlining/overcasting thread but not the buttonhole thread itself.) to make it stick in the fabric better when I start off the thread. I don't tend to tie it, I just do a couple of stabstitches or backstitches and it holds well. (I'm generally very thorough with tying off my threads when it comes to hand sewing, but a buttonhole is basically a long row of knots, so it's pretty sturdy.)

Put the needle through underneath, with the tip coming up right along that little outline you sewed earlier. And I personally like to take the ends that are already in my hand and wrap them around the tip of the needle like so, but a lot of people loop the other end up around the other way, so here's a link to a buttonhole video with that method. Try both and see which one you prefer, the resulting knot is the same either way.

Sometimes I can pull the thread from the end near the needle and have the stitch look nice, but often I grab it closer to the base and give it a little wiggle to nestle it into place. This is more necessary with the cotton than it is with the silk.

The knot should be on top of the cut edge of the fabric, not in front of it.

You can put your stitches further apart than I do if you want, they'll still work if they've got little gaps in between them.

Keep going up that edge and when you get to the end you can either flip immediately to the other side and start back down again, or you can do a bar tack. (You can also fan out the stitches around the end if you want, but I don't like to anymore because I think the rectangular ends look nicer.)

Here's a bar tack vs. no bar tack sample. They just make it look more sharp, and they reinforce the ends.

For a bar tack do a few long stitches across the entire end.

And then do buttonhole stitches on top of those long stitches. I also like to snag a tiny bit of the fabric underneath.

Then stick the needle down into the fabric right where you ended that last stitch on the corner of the bar tack, so you don't pull that corner out of shape, and then just go back to making buttonhole stitches down the other side.

Then do the second bar tack once you get back to the end.

To finish off my thread I make it sticky with a bit more beeswax, waxing it as close to the fabric as I can get, and then bring it through to the back and pull it underneath the stitches down one side and trim it off.

In my experience it stays put perfectly well this way without tying it off.

Voila! An beautiful buttonholes!

If you want keyhole ones you can clip or punch a little rounded bit at one end of the cut and fan your stitches out around that and only do the bar tack at one end, like I did on my 1830's dressing gown.

(I won't do that style in my video though, because they're not 18th century.)

Do samples before doing them on a garment! Do as many practice ones as you need to, it takes a while for them to get good! Mine did not look this nice 10 years ago.

Your first one will probably look pretty bad, but your hundredth will be much better!

Edit: Video finished!

And here's the blog post, which is mostly a slightly longer version of this post.

[tiamathh]

Walk Walk Fashion Baby

Hi girlies new year new style ykwim anyway this is a pac that i have been wanting to make for a long time but i was like idk how many ppl will like it etc but now idc about all that i want to have fun so here it is!! Have fun and stay hydrated. muah <33 also my paid readings are open there are a few slots (15) if anyone's interested xx ciao <3 like and rb if you like xx

Masterlist / Paid Readings + FB / Tip jar

Pile 1

Hi pile 1! You need to try that classical, timeless, style, i know it can be annoying to look at all the beige and muted tones but its so much more than that like, picture this, a tailored blazer or high-waisted trousers that fit like a dream. tbh I am also getting pearls for some reason so maybe adding neckklaces as accessories can be something you are interested in to incorporate in your style next year. Start with a simple white shirt, a fitted black dress, or a pair of cut jeans. Then you can accesorise with delicate gold bracelet, a black bag, or a string of pearls again with the pearls they are calling for you right nowww.

Moreover, another style you can incorporate is just as sharp, and elegant so like the whole academia aesthetic, regardless of light or dark that doesn’t matter but what I am trying to say is, clothes with shape. Like cinched wastes and just clothes that create shape for you are like something you really should give thought to. It’s about being comfortable but also looking effortlesss while doing it all, I think basics like camis, just plain shirts/tshirts are something you need more of in your closet because theres so many ways to style them other than just for formal wear. Like one style inspo is literally Proncess Diana cannot get more elgant than her istg, enjoy muah <33

Pile 2

Y’all this is my pile you guys are my PEOPLE ok to begin with you need to stop being afraid of colour and looseness like not everything has to be tight and fitted especially just because the microtrend world says so. Experiment with “loud” colours and different textures, things you may have thought are “odd” and don’t look good, because trust me the way it can all be pulled together is crazy and so much fun!! Layer, the most important part, stack rings and bracelets and go for those colours that lowkey hurt your eyes because fashion is about colour and pattern and texture and taking all of it out of fashion just makes it dull imo.

Start with a bright coloured tshirt, maybe something like yellow, then layer on, very “indie kid” aesthetic like the high saturation stuff. Mixed with that I am also getting maximalism to the MAX layer layer layer, stack stack stack you should look like a walking apparell store (kidding) seriously though if you have been feeling like you want to experiment with something like this and oxidised jewellery and mixing different styles mainly because all of your wardrobe is mismatched (me) then go for it because I promise it will come out looking way better than you may have imagined. 

Pile 3: 

Ooo I love this, okay so very romanticised, very coquette but not really, this is also the pile which will look so good in pastels in lighter colours. All I am getting in my head are those pictures of people on picnics in their flowy outfits and dresses looking so pretty and at peace, bows and dellicate bangles, just a very dainty aesthetic im thinking light fabrics and romantic fashion like lace-trimmed dresses, pastel skirts and floral prints, very fairytaile-ish. Ruffles or embroidery too and just magical overall. Also the complete opposite of pile 2 here, minimalist aesthetic may suit you a lot so try it out next year!

I am talking about keeping it simple, not too much with the accessorising and maybe a staple or statement accessory piece that goes with everything and anything you wear. Also for some of you with this simplistic style, you may have to be pushed to try on something more glam too like a bold red lip when it comes to makeup, like be bolder with your makeup experiment with more purples, pinks and reds while keeping the outfits simpler. 

All Rights Reserved tiamathh©® DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REWORD, STEAL!

[k4marina]

— ii. Dragon Rider || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: a new routine in a new world

warnings: idek lol. unedited and not properly read (i kept falling asleep lmao)

series masterlist || next part

~ 2.5k word count.

game of thrones x modern!fem!reader

[gif found on pinterest]

Never in my life have I regretted anything more than I did now. 

“Me and my big fucking mouth,” I grunted, getting up from the ground and dusting my leather pants. Gray Worm looks at me with a slightly amused expression. Of course he would, he just dropped me onto my ass for the fifth time today. 

It had been almost two weeks after the Small Council meeting. There had been a few more since then, but no major topics were discussed, other than Varys begrudgingly backing what I had said about Cersie having scorpions when asked if his little birds had any news. The new armor and weapons for the Unsullied are also being made. After a few talks with Daenerys, Gray Worm, a few Unsullied commanders, and I, the new armor design was decided on. Surprisingly the Unsullied were very artistic people and had great ideas. 

And, within the past two weeks, I’ve been tortured everyday, my limbs aching all the time, threatening to fall off. Everyday, I’ve been woken up at four in the morning for my sword lessons with Gray Worm for five hours a day. When I said I wanted to learn, I didn’t mean I wanted to train to be the world's best swordsman of all time. 

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I say towards him, wiping away the sweat on my face. 

“I have no idea to what you are referring to, My Lady.” Gray Worm says, feigning innocence. 

“You can’t call me ‘My Lady’ and then drop me on my ass for the fifth time.” I pointed out. 

Gray Worm smiled and got into a fighting stance and I mirrored. “Your defense has gotten better; however, your strength and stamina is lacking.” 

He gave the signal and charged towards me, going to swing towards my left. I sidestepped and blocked the hit with my sword before knocking it back. This time, I went for the attack, but Gray Worm expertly blocked me and knocked the sword out of my hand. The sword clattered against the stone ground, landing a few feet away from me.

“Maybe it’s best we stop for today.” He says, picking up the sword and placing it back onto the rack. I let out a sigh of relief and walked over to the inches, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat away from my face and neck. 

“Be honest,” I said, turning towards him. “Am I a lost cause?” 

He snorts out a laugh and shakes his head. “Apologies, My Lady.” Once he’d composed himself he answered, “No, I do not believe you are a ‘lost cause’. It may seem difficult now, but it will get easier later on.” 

“Wow, wise words,” I said sarcastically, taking a swig of water from the canteen. “They should call you ‘Gray Worm the Wise’.” 

“I’m pleased that you think I am someone with wisdom.” He says, giving a small bow, making me chuckle. 

After the lessons, I took a bath in my room, this time with the help of the servants. The first few days I would have them leave so I could bathe myself, but I guess over the days it just naturally happened. Once bathed and dressed in a white dress with gold embroidery and pearl beads before I made my way to the hall to have breakfast with Daenerys. 

Not only was it a good way for us to get to know one another (mainly her learning about me) as well as discussing future events and how we would maneuver through it. However, not all of it. I had made the decision to not tell her about Jon Snow or the White Walkers, I think that’s something she should organically go through. All she knows about Jon is that he’s the King in the North is Jon Snow, Ned Stark's “bastard” and the former Nights Watch Lord Commander who came back from the dead.  

The doors to the hall were swung open for me and I walked in, spotting Daenerys at the head of the table, looking through some documents. The sound of the doors closing, snapped her out of her thoughts. When she saw me she smiled, which I returned. 

“What did I say about bringing work to the dining table,” I lightly scolded. She gave me a sheepish look and protested, “it can’t be helped, it's important work. As Queen I’m expected to do this and more.” 

I walked over to her, carefully taking the documents and setting them off to the side. “Dany, you’ve been a Queen since you married Khal Drogo. You need to step back and take some time to just be Daenerys. Otherwise you’ll grow overworked.” 

“Alright, alright. If you’re so sure.” She nodded towards the servants to begin serving the food. Like always, an array of food was laid out for us to eat. We both began to eat, making small talk and updating each other with any new updates. 

“Gray Worm has been telling me that you’re quite exceptional with a sword,” She teased. 

I playfully rolled my eyes, groaning, “not you too.” She let out a laugh, teasing me some more. “What? He says you’re a fast learner. He says he’s never seen someone land on their arse five times in a row.” 

“Right, that’s it.” I huffed. “I’m running away.” 

Daenerys laughed some more and I tried to hide my smile. Truthfully, she reminded me of my younger cousin in Volantis, Mera. Both of them had a heart of gold and an innocent child-like soul deep down. 

“The servants told me that you refused to have your hair braided.” Daenerys points out. She’s not wrong. Instead of braiding my hair I opted to leave it in a ponytail or let it down. 

“Well, I haven’t won any battles.” I said. “Each one of your braids represents a battle won, I haven’t won anything.”

“So if you win you’ll braid your hair?” 

“Sure, why not. Why? Do you not want me to?”

“No, no. Actually, I would quite like that.” She smiled. 

I eyed her suspiciously, “don’t tell me you’re planning on putting me in the frontlines.” 

She shrugged. “Maybe. Your lessons with Gray Worm are going well. Who knows, by the time we’re ready for war you’ll be a master swordsman –or rather swordswoman.”

The rest of the breakfast went fine. Daenerys and I decided to take a stroll around the castle ground claiming she has something to show me. She dropped off the papers in her office before taking me through the back of the castle to the open fields in the back. The wind swept by us, carrying the saltiness of the ocean and the fresh scent of grass. 

“Where are we going?” I asked as she led me deeper into the field. 

“I just wanted to show you something. They’re right over there.” 

We stood atop a hill and at the foot of the hill on the other side resting were Daenerys’ dragons. I felt my heart stop. No way. What the actual fuck. My mouth ran dry as I looked over the three dragons. Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion, all in their full glory. I looked over to Daenerys who was already looking towards me. 

“You’re serious?” I ask. She smiles and nods. “What if they don’t like me and decide to eat me?” 

Daenerys laughed, her cheeks turning pink. “They will do none of that sort, I swear. I have a strong feeling that they will like you.” 

Carefully she led me closer to the three dragons. With every step they just grew more and more. They towered over the two of us and stood with immense power. And to think that these three are just a small fraction of the size of Balerion and the rest of the Targaryen fleet. 

We stood a few feet away but I could still feel the heat that they emitted from their bodies. Their majestic eyes that were probably the size of my head watched me carefully. Shiny scales adorned their bodies that looked to be about the size of my hand or bigger. Their one claw nail was the same size as my limbs. 

Holy fuck was this crazy. I’d read about these dragons and even saw a few drawings made by people who’d seen them in textbooks, but being this up close and personal with them was a whole other experience. 

Oddly enough, for such dangerous creatures, they seemed to emit a sense of calm. 

“You feel it too?” Daenerys eyes my reactions to the dragons. “Their calm.” 

I nodded. “I thought my heart would be doing somersaults in my chest, but it’s not.” After the initial shock, I felt my body relax. 

“They’re so beautiful.” I said to no one in particular. 

We hung around them for some time, allowing me to get used to their presence while Daenerys told me stories about her and her dragons. 

I looked over the dragons. Drogon, named after Daenerys’ husband Khal Drogo. Rhaegal, named after Rhaegar the Dragon Prince. Viserion, named after Viserys the Beggar King. 

Daenerys followed my gaze to the cream and gold scales dragon that laid on the grass alongside his brothers. Viserion and Rhaegal seemed to play fight while Drogon watched. 

“Despite their playful nature, those two are the oldest.” 

“What? 

The dragons carefully made their way over to where we stood. Drogon moved towards Daenerys, moving his tail around her as if giving her a hug. Rhaegal moved around behind us, opting to lounge. Viserion, however, moved closer to me. His green eyes bore into mine, as if it was trying to communicate with me. 

He brought his face closer to me, like a dog wanting to be pet. I glanced back at Daenerys who nodded. 

Viserion tilts his head when I carefully bring my hand up to stroke his gold and cream scales. A deep purr comes from him, nearly startling me. He nuzzles his head into my palm and purrs some more. It wasn’t like a cat's purr, more like a deep bass. 

“Would you like to fly him?” Daenerys asks. 

“Yes,” I replied without a thought, too entranced at the dragon in front of me. 

She moves around Drogo, standing to the side of him. 

“Stand like this,” she says. “This is what I find the easiest.” 

I mimic her stance, standing besides Viserion. Drogon crouched down and Daenerys carefully stepped up, using his scales and spikes to seat herself atop the dragon. 

I copied her, being careful to not hurt Viserion (not that I’d be able to) and sat myself on top of the gold dragon. It was uncomfortable, almost like riding a really large horse with spikes and scales. How Daenerys was able to ride her dragons without a saddle or harness was beyond me. 

My hands gripped onto the spikes on Viserions back, holding on tightly as the gold dragon began to shift around from a crouched position to fully stand. My hands gripped onto him tighter as I tried not to fall off. I peaked over its massive body to see that Viserion was getting ready to take off. 

“W-wait!” I looked towards Daenerys who was watching from atop Drogon. “Why is it taking off? What do I do?” Panic filled my voice. 

There was no way in seven hells that she thinks that I can fly, right? 

“Hold on!” She grins just as Drogon takes off into the sky. VIserion gets ready and I can already feel myself slipping off. He takes off just as I adjust my position, hunching down and tightening my grip onto his spikes. 

Wind rushes past my ears and my hair flows all over the place. Instinctively, I closed my eyes while Viserion flew in the air. I could hear Daenerys call for me from across the sky. 

“Open your eyes!” She says. “You’ll be safe, I promise.” 

Carefully, I opened them. It was brighter up in the sky than on the ground and had a lot less clouds. I could hear the, surprisingly, gentle flaps of Viserions wings. I cautiously looked down, seeing that we were miles off the ground, so far up that we could see Dragonstone Island and I could feel my stomach start to buzz. 

“Don’t look down,” I look up to see Daenerys. “When it was my first time I was terrified, as well, but you cannot let your fear control you or else it will transfer to your dragon.” 

I nodded, taking in her words and sitting up straight with confidence. Despite still feeling uneasy I managed to get my grip on things (literally). Daenerys’ words rung in my ears. 

“Your dragon,” 

I’d read of Dragons bonding with non-Targaryens or non-Valyrians, case and point being Hugh Hammer riding Vermithor during the Dance of Dragons. But it would make sense if I could bond with Viserion in light of recent findings. 

“Alright, let’s see what we can do.” I said to Viserion and I. 

—

Daenerys and I spent the rest of the day riding our dragons. It was challenging, especially the part where you literally have to hold onto for dear life, but rewarding in the end. 

In the end Viserion and I had truly bonded. He would know what I was thinking or how I was feeling without even saying a word to him. At first I thought it was just the two of us getting the hang of each other, but Daenerys explained that this was what she and Drogon felt. It was hard to believe that I was a Dragon Rider. But then again, this past week has shown that anything could be possible. 

Getting off the Dragons was harder than getting on, my dress snagging on its scales, but not ripping entirely. 

“I can help you with your riding,” Daenerys says as we walk back into the castle. 

“I’d like that.” I replied. “I’m sure we can find books in the libraries that can help us too.” 

“Have you uncovered anything else?” She asks, expectantly. 

I shook my head. “Nothing of significance. I’ll keep reading and let you in on my findings.” 

We split off so we could clean ourselves up and get ready for dinner. The bathtub was already ready for me when I entered the room. I pulled off my dress and sunk into the steaming hot water. The tension in my shoulders loosened and I dipped my head back to rest on the edge of the bathtub. 

The weight of my necklace lay heavy on my chest, a firm reminder of my… predicament. I tried not to think about it all, otherwise I’d just spiral into some rabbit hole. Some days I wonder if it’s all some sort of dream. A long, vivid dream that I can't wake up from. A knot pulls at my chest, and my throat closes. My eyes flicker up to the ceiling, tears threatening to fall. I took a deep breath, the only thing I can do is take everything in day by day.

And then I fully submerged myself into the water.

a/n: finally, it’s here :) mb if there’s any spelling mistakes, i tried to proofread it but i kept falling asleep and couldn’t be asked anymore 😭 i’ll fix it later, trust 🙏.

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@wotcherpeak @music-luver25 @your-favorite-god @radiantdanvers @cluelessteam @daenerys713 @ministark @laanswife @idohknow @jromanoff

[girlyteeth]

Let's Talk About Girly-Kei Substyle Names!

Since this style has been gaining some popularity in j-fashion communities, I wanted to do a small lesson on how to refer to different styles of girly-kei. I've noticed some strange names being assigned to this style, and I want to clear up any misunderstandings people may have about these terms.

There are many labels people put on this fashion style, but for some reason it's anything but girly. It's understandable how some terms could be mistaken for the name of the fashion, especially since some stereotypes associated with these styles have heavily contributed to the wrong terminology being used. Examples of terms that have been associated with girly-kei are... Ryousangata: (meaning a "mass-produced" type of person, who's heavily involved in wota culture) J*rai-kei: (a stereotype referring to an emotionally unstable person who "explodes like a landmine".) Subcul: (It used to have the meaning of "poser" in Japan, but nowadays it is used to refer to any type of alternative fashion. While this one is more harmless, it doesn't do any good to refer to a style that already has a name as just "subcul fashion")

In the girly-kei community, we label these colour combos a bit similarly to lolita substyles. So, let's name some some girly styles that have been getting popular! Sweet Girly: This style consists of sweeter elements, such as ruffles, bows, hearts, and cute prints. Sometimes, you can find sweet girly sweaters with plushie embroidery! Bijou details are also popular with this style, as the jewels seem to compliment the overall cuteness of these outfits!

Dark Girly: This style focuses on more darker/edgier elements, and these outfits seem to have a more gothic look to it. Characteristics such as chains, leather, and religious imagery can be found in this substyle. Despite the name of this substyle, the clothes don't need to have a dark colour palette. Just as long as they fit the criteria!

French Girly: This style is meant to resemble a more European style of fashion! This elegant style also maintains a sense of simplicity, as their silhouettes and designs tend to be neat. As you can see, berets are especially popular in this substyle, but other accessories such as pearls, gold jewelry, and hairbands are also used in these outfits.

I find that among girly discourse, some argue that "girly-kei" is way too broad of a term, but that's where you can have fun with your outfits! It's not a requirement to specifically adhere to a certain substyle when wearing girly-kei fashion, and honestly just wear what makes you happy! A lot of these substyles can overlap as a result, which can create pretty cool outfits!

Referring to these substyles by their proper name not only sounds nicer, but it can help erase stigma around wearing girly fashion as a whole.

If you wish to read about more substyles such as otona girly, retro girly, himekaji (yes, even the gyaru substyle can be considered girly!) and casual girly, there is a more detailed list of all the different substyles in their aesthetics section! Thank you for reading <3

[larvasmoon]

Purpose

Summary: Sewing was a tedious activity all things considered. One that Astarion had never imagined himself doing for a living.

Rating: T Word Count: 2132 Content: Tailor Astarion AU, Fluff and angst, well quite a lot of angst as usual, mentions of death and grief

A/N: This little one shot is spoiler free but I wrote it as a prologue to my fic Portrait of the pale elf ! I hope you'll enjoy!

Sewing was a tedious activity all things considered. One that Astarion had never imagined himself doing for a living. 

Well…To be fair, during all those centuries, he’d never dared to dream or hope for anything. Torture was Godey’s speciality, not his. And indulging in grand fantasies of freedom would have certainly felt like a new kind of torment — especially when the only thing to look forward to was the next mucky rat he’d be allowed to feast on.

But becoming a tailor? Gods no, it had never been part of his plan.

Spending hours and hours in complete silence, hunched over some intricate sewing pattern. Struggling to pass a thread through the needle of his sewing machine, or finding it impossibly tangled around its mechanism. Stichting thousands of pearls in the shape of a blooming flower, until his vision blurred and his finger swelled under the thimble. 

Hardly an exciting prospect for someone like Astarion. His definition of a ‘fun night’ usually involved good wine, a little shopping spree, the latest plays or operas, and —if he felt like it— good company. 

Needless to say that his love for the profession had been an acquired taste, at best. 

But then again, he’d never really taken the time to think about the things he liked. Sometimes, he wondered if anything of what made him ‘Astarion Ancunín’ was truly his. Had he always enjoyed the scent of rosemary, or was it just the only trick he’d found to hide the faint smell of grave dirt clinging to his skin? Had he always enjoyed getting lost in extravagant parties and crowded dressing rooms, or had he always seeked to silence his own dark thoughts by visiting those places? He would never know. 

He’d first started sewing clothes for himself a few weeks after coming back to Baldur’s Gate. Nothing of what he’d found at the clothiers suited him. 

Poor quality. Crooked seams. Too tight around the shoulders or too wide near his waist. 

One night, on a whim, he’d come to the conclusion that if the city was full of incompetents, he’d do it himself. He’d stormed out, bought a few fabric rolls, before decidedly sitting at the desk of his room at the Blushing Mermaid. It really hadn’t taken him long to work out a few patterns, cut the blue brocades, and make a few doublets out of them. He’d mended his clothes time and time again, back when he was still a spawn, but he’d never made a garment from scratch before. Yet, something about this felt so innate, so instinctive, almost as if… As if he’d done it before. 

He already knew what to do without having to think — what to measure, where to pin the silk, how to stitch the seams. And from time to time, when the needle moved too quickly between his fingers, he was reminded of something. 

A vision, barely out of grasp. 

Old weathered hands holding an embroidery hoop, the crackling of the fire in the earth, and his own pudgy fingers clinging to the worn wool of a soft jacket.

“Needlework is a labor of love and patience. One sews like he lives, one motion at a time, designedly and purposefully. Diligence is a virtue you still need to learn, young master.”

So many stolen memories.

So many years spent living as an instrument of death.

Maybe devoting his time in the pursuit of beauty was the only way to atone for it, to prove to himself that he was meant for more than this eternal darkness.

Art imitates life, after all. And Astarion felt powerful each time he finished sewing a piece. As if he'd secretly stolen a bit of the gods’ power by doing so, as if he’d shaped something out of the void with his undead hands.

It was addictive, intoxicating, healing. 

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Astarion never forgot his first customer.

It was right after he’d bought his shop. Some old and luxurious apothecary — or so he’d been told. He vaguely remembered walking past it during his nightly strolls, idly admiring the pretty jars on the shelves. A never ending procession of giddy ladies stepped out of the shop with bright silky pouches in their hands, filled to the brim with glassy bottles of rose water, perfumed soaps, and all sorts of scented lotions.

Now that Astarion was the owner, it was slightly less… glamorous.

The shop was still dusty and empty. He hadn’t painted the walls bright red yet, or bought any of the black lacquered furniture and Persian rugs that would soon decorate the space. Here and there, he’d placed a few sewing mannequins, dressed in dazzling silky ball gowns and eye-catching embroidered doublets. His workshop table was pushed in a corner; spools of threads, fabric scraps, and messy sketches scattered on top of it. 

He was busy sweeping the floors when the door flew open. Out of habit, he reached down for his daggers, but the only thing his fingers were met with was the cold silver of the sewing chatelaine. His embroidery scissors could work as a substitute — though perhaps a little too dull to deliver a killing blow. 

But when he turned around, there were no men in armor, no monsters and no foes to fight. Just a little girl, crying and trembling on the threshold.

“Is this a tailor shop?” she sniffed, wiping her snotty nose on her red scarf. 

She was very small, two funny little pigtails on top of her head. The stubborn look in her icy blue eyes was intriguing though, such determination didn’t quite fit on the face of a child. She swayed on her feet now and then, struggling to carry the satchel flung over her shoulder, twice as big as her.

“We’re not open yet,” he sighed, going back to his cleaning chores, “Sorry, dear.” 

“But- You’re the last place I haven’t gone to yet! I went to see all the seamstresses, all the clothiers, all the tailors! None of them want to help me!”

“Help you? I think you knocked on the wrong doors, darling,” he huffed, crouching down to dust the shop window. “People rarely do favors around here, you see. They offer their services in exchange for a generous sum of money.” 

“I can pay!” she proudly declared, thumping her little boots on the floor, red as a beetroot.

“Far from me the idea of discouraging you, my dear, but I doubt you can afford me.” 

He heard her rummaging in her bag, and soon a familiar tinkle sound. 

Astarion’s favorite little symphony. 

“I have daddy’s money,” she finally said, holding her heavy purse of coins in her quivering fist.

He slowly let go of his broom, eyeing her and the pouch in her hand with renewed interest. 

“And does daddy know that you’ve dipped into his coffers and fled with the swag hidden under your coat?” 

The last thing he needed was to have an army of flaming fists officers on his tail; he’d done his best to lay low during the last months, to be a picture perfect citizen. Being a vampire was enough of a problem already, and Astarion’s greatest wish was to be left in peace, to be forgotten.

“No, daddy’s too busy, don’t worry,” — she furrowed her brows, her blue eyes darkening like the sun behind a rainy cloud— “He won’t notice.”

He looked at her for a little while, hesitating, and she kept her round serious eyes trained on him. 

“Very well, it’s a deal then,” Astarion sighed, bending down to grab her hand and tug her inside of the shop, “This way, madam.”

The little girl giggled, whispering a few ecstatic ‘thank you,’ trotting about the messy atelier. She dragged her satchel on the floor with a sigh, before taking a long piece of blue fabric out of it. It was in a very pitiful state, torn and stained in various places, covered in soot, as if someone had attempted to burn it. .

“What in the sweet hells is that?” Astarion asked, scrunching his nose when she clumsily laid it flat on his workshop table.

“That’s mommy’s caplet.”

“Yes, what’s left of it, at least,” he mocked, examining it with a disgruntled look on his face. “What happened to it?”

She clung to the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white, her eyes silently filling with tears again. “Can you fix it or not, mister?”

He looked at the coat some more, trying to think about ways to clean or dye it, maybe by stitching a patchwork of new fabric onto it, but he always arrived at the same conclusion. 

This rag was beyond saving. 

“It would be much easier to sew a new one. I’m not sure I can make anything out of this.”

Her face fell, Astarion’s stomach flipped, and she started to sob. 

Oh gods, he’d forgotten just how dreadful witnessing a child cry was… He’d seen Arabella do it a few times — fists curled by her sides, face tense and awfully red, voice so high-pitched that he'd thought the sound would pierce his eardrums. 

What did Karlach and Lia do back then? Give her a handkerchief? A little pat on the head? Something sweet to eat? He couldn’t remember.

“No!” she screamed in the middle of her crying fit, “I don’t want another one, I want this one!”

“But you can’t possibly want to keep this miserable—” he tried to say, stepping towards her with wide panicked eyes. 

What if people heard her scream from the outside? What if they got the wrong idea? He needed to get her to stop. Quickly.

“It has to be this one,” she breathed, burying her face in her hands, “It’s the last thing I have, it still smells like her.”

Oh, so that’s what it’s about, he thought, and somewhere in his chest, where his heart was supposed to be beating, he felt a pang of hurt. 

Some old wound, reopened.

He knew a thing or two about that feeling too, about the agony of grief and loss.

He’d died, he’d killed, and he’d lost so many things along the way. 

A trail of corpses and blood in his wake.

And suddenly the garment sprawled in front of him was more than just a dirty mantle; it was a shroud, freshly dug out of cold soil of a tomb. His fingers shook around the seams, pensively tracing the stitched lines.

“How about this then?” he asked, softer this time,“See this half of the caplet? It’s as good as new, darling. What if I made something else out of it? Something you can wear all the time?”

She wiped her tears, droplets of salty water sparkling on her long lashes. “What would you make?”

“A scarf? I could embroider something on it, stitch a few pearls or gemstones, it would make it worth the money.”

“Mmm, I like it,” she nodded, with a sad little smile, “It’ll feel like mommy’s giving me a hug.”

Astarion’s hands were a little unsteady when he started cutting through the blue wool, afraid that he’d ruin it any further. It was his first time working on such an old fabric, something woven with so many memories and love. And his little customer was looking at each and every of his motions with rapt attention, her fogged eyes lingering on the parts of the caplet she’d have to leave behind. 

Stitch after stitch, little tassel after little tassel, the fabric came back to life. Resuscitated.

It had been beautiful once, he could tell. Soft and bright, warm and nicely tailored.

When he was almost done sewing it all together, she tugged on his sleeves and asked him to embroider a name on it. 

“Gabrielle.”  Her mother’s name, surely. 

And so he did.

In threads of gold, floating in a sea of pearls and crystals. 

Like a spell.

Most people came to his shop to buy something new: an armor of silk and satin for the next season, or a pretty dress to wear at tea one of those ridiculous five-o-clock tea parties.

But from time to time, someone entered his shop with a damaged and torn garment in their hands, and Astarion never denied them. He cleaned and he washed, he mended and stitched back in place.

He had a strange sort of sympathy for the old rags now, as if he could see more in them than the stains and the unstitched seams— perhaps some old and distant memory of himself, or an opportunity to prove that everything that is a little broken can be fixed.

Tailoring wasn’t just about sewing pretty ballgowns and enchanting attires, and on good nights, Astarion took pride in that fact.

He’d found so much more at the tip of his needle.

A craft teetering on the edge of life and death, an art dedicated to ghosts and social butterflies alike.

But above all else— a purpose, a reason to keep pulling the thread.

[pumpkinfyre]

Prisoner of Vows

Chapter One: Union

Summary: Naelys Velaryon is the beloved daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. After the Dance begins, she is trapped in Kings Landing and forced to choose between her blood.

Warnings: angst, religion, naelys is pious

Having not been in Kings Landing for several years, Naelys could not say she was particularly excited about their visit. Alas, her marriage to Aegon Targaryen was fundamental to both sides of the family. Her father would not have forced her into such a situation, but he was dead, both of them were. Harwin Strong lost to fire, as Laenor Velaryon had been. 

She particularly disliked having to sit in a carriage with her stepfather and mother, when she could have just flown her dragon to the Keep. 

"I mislike all of this, Sweetling," Rhaenyra says, breaking the silence in the carriage. Her hand was rubbing at her swollen belly, wincing slightly as the carriage rocked. "You must understand this. Your grandsire is adamant about keeping his promises, and as his heir, I must do the same." 

Naelys nods her head, her lips frowning. 

"It is easy enough to marry him, mother. You will return to Dragonstone, and I will be left to stitch our broken family together by myself." 

Daemon dares to comment. 

"You may have whoever you want once you are married," he says, a smirk on his thin lips. "Aegon is known to take in whores, you may as well do the same." Naelys grimaces, scoffing suddenly. She was a woman of faith, the suggestion that she would take a mistress was offensive. "I'd rather not, Daemon," she says, sparing a look towards her heavily pregnant mother. 

Rhaenyra was pregnant with her second child with Daemon, and Naelys could see that the carriage ride was bothering her mother. The bumps of the rocks and gravel left her looking sick and uncomfortable. She hoped the ride was almost over for her mother's sake. 

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Kings Landing had changed drastically since her last time there. Naelys climbs out of the stuffy carriage, only to be met with the thick air of the Keep. Dragonstone was open and the smell of salt and dragons was all there was. The Keep smelled... unclean. Before she can think of her old home, a pair of tiny arms wrapped around her waist. Joffrey had stuffed his face into her skirts, his little legs wobbly. The boy was only four and had become extremely attached to his older sister, much like how Luke clung to their mother. She picks him up, little Joff being balanced on her hip as she waits for the rest of the family to leave their respective carriages. 

Rhaenyra stands nearby, cradling her baby bump as she watches over her children. Jace and Luke come to their sister's side, Luke hiding behind her as the family is approached by the Queen Consort, her children standing behind her. Naelys tries to avoid eye contact with Aegon or Aemond as she waits for her mother to talk. It had never been her strong suit, not that she would want to talk to anyone. The nasal moan of Silverwing can be heard above, the large she-dragon flying past the gates.  Naelys smiles the sound of her dragon bringing her comfort. 

At some point, Naelys finds herself in her old bedroom. The introductions had been short, and everyone had been sent away to explore their old home. Instead of Targaryen memorabilia everywhere, there were signs of the Seven, and she found it comforting. Unlike many in her family, Naelys had become a devout worshipper of the Seven, she found happiness in her faith. 

"Not a thing has changed," The gentle voice of her mother resonates in the air, and Naelys turns to see Rhaenyra standing at the door. She stalks towards the bed, her pale fingers tracing the embroidery of Naelys' old bed covers. They were a deep blue, with shells and pearls embroidered. "When you were born, your father would only dress you in blue, to show that you were his little Velaryon princess..." Rhaenyra muses, holding her belly as she sat down on the covers. "Gods forbid I try to dress you in red or black, he'd have a fit!" She laughs, smiling as Naelys takes a seat next to her. "I regret that he cannot see you now..." 

Naelys, despite sharing the same father as her younger brothers Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joff, had white hair much like her Valyrian ancestors. 

Most days she thought it was the only reason her legitimacy wasn't argued whilst her brothers were. There were whispers, of course, but no one openly called her a bastard. 

"You were his little pearl... that's what he called you," Rhaenyra grasps her daughter's hand in her own, running her thumb over the smooth skin of her palm. "By the end of this, I'm sure you will find your own happiness, Lys." "What if I don't? What if they kill me once you leave for Dragonstone?" It was rare for Naelys to voice her worries, her only confidant was Silverwing, her dragon. She had difficulty communicating with her mother, especially after the death of her father all those years ago. "They know what I am." Rhaenyra snaps her head to the left, looking at her daughter with a worried expression. "Your grandsire would never allow it, you know this!" 

Their conversation is cut short when Daemon enters the room, looking around at the interior with an interested expression. 

"Dinner is ready." 

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Naelys sat in her seat, sipping at the cider in her goblet as everyone around her chatted. She was seated inbetween her future husband and her stepfather. 

Quite uncomfortable. 

"Your necklace is very beautiful, Princess," Alicent starts up a conversation, as she sat across from Naelys. "I did not know you were pious." Rhaenyra looks to her right, smiling encouragingly towards her daughter. The necklace in question was a small pendant of the seven-pointed star, the chain had pearls embedded in, and the star itself was silver. "Thank you, Your Grace," Naelys says, giving a curt smile. "I find much comfort in the Faith, though there isn't much of a Sept on Dragonstone." "What she means is that she locks herself in her chambers and prays for hours." Daemon cuts in, looking at Naelys as she places her goblet down. "I do not find that shameful in the slightest, My Prince," says Alicent. "I'd be delighted if she accompanied me to the Sept on the morrow." 

Naelys smiles gently, not noticing the stare that her betrothed was giving her. Aegon sulks at the table, taking a heavy swig of his wine. He hadn't been expecting this in the slightest. Naelys had been a mature girl for her age when they were all children, and it seemed to Aegon that she hadn't changed. Polite smiles and chatter with his mother, but not once has she looked his way. He had even combed his hair before dinner, much to his mother's surprise. 

Perhaps that awkward disposition had stuck with Naelys even after all these years. 

The awkward staring coming from her betrothed had not escaped Naelys. She could feel Aegon's eyes burning her skin, like a hot flame. She had not seen Aegon since the incident on Driftmark, where Aemond had lost his eye. She had just claimed Silverwing before the funeral was to be held, so she had snuck out from her room to be with her dragon. 

Needless to say she had gotten caught in the crossfire of the dispute between her brothers and Aemond. Rocks were thrown, eyes were removed, but at the end of the night Naelys and Aegon had been betrothed to each other. A feeble attempt at peace by her beloved grandsire. The dispute had left Naelys with fear for what the future held. 

Being married to her own uncle once she was of age wasn't exactly something she found herself looking forward to. 

The distance away from Daemon was welcome, though. 

Dinner had come to a finish without much fuss, and Naelys could feel the exhaustion move over her body in waves. Her dark brown eyes drooped slightly as she sat in her seat, barely registering the sound of people getting up to retire. Her mother and younger brothers had already left, as had the queen and Naelys' grandfather. Daemon still resided at her side, per her mother's request. He was to be her chaperone until she was married to Aegon. 

Naelys sighs, taking one last sip of the crisp cider in her goblet. The aroma of apples and cinnamon blessing her consciousness as she savored the flavor. It was the taste of her childhood.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

Rhaenyra had taken it upon herself to get her daughter ready for her trip to the Sept with the queen. Whilst Naelys usually wore soft blue gowns to represent her father, she chose a sweet velvet dress, black and deep maroon. Rhaenyra takes her time pulling her daughter's snowy hair into a braid, fastening the braid to the back of Naelys' head, as the princess preferred her hair to be pulled back. Whilst Rhaenyra herself had golden-white hair, Naelys' hair had always been paler, white as snow. It was thick, though, and it was a hassle to deal with. 

"I'll light a candle for father while I'm there," Naelys says, looking at herself in the mirror as Rhaenyra finishes up the hairdo. Rhaenyra fishes out some strands of the white hair, bringing out fringe to frame Naelys' round face. Rubbing her thumb over the pale cheeks of her daughter, the princess sighs. "My beautiful girl..." Rhaenyra coos, a certain sadness in her voice. She had objected the union between Aegon and her daughter for years, unwilling to marry off her heir and only daughter. Naelys was willing to do her duty if it meant some semblance of peace could be found, but it pained Rhaenyra to give her child away. 

Naelys grabs a small mahogany box off of her large dresser, smiling encouragingly at her mother. 

"I had this made for the queen, well wishes should do us well," says Naelys, handing the small box to her mother. Rhaenyra opens the small hatch, peering into the box with curiosity. Small gifts were no surprise coming from the young princess, she often made things for those she loved. Her love was usually only for her brothers and mother, but Rhaenyra supposed this was a special occasion. 

Inside the box was a golden ring, embedded with a large emerald.

"Queen Alicent always seems to wear gold, and it looks very regal on her, so..." Naelys awkwardly shifts as she watches her mother observe the ring. 

"I am sure Alicent will love this, Sweet Girl," Rhaenyra says, finally closing the box before setting it back down on the white mahogany dresser. 

...

The trip to the Sept had come early, Naelys listening to the flickering of candles as she kneeled beside Alicent. The queen lights a candle with a burning wick before folding her hands in front of her. Naelys light her own candle, murmuring the name of her father before readying herself to pray. The Sept was quiet, as it was meant to be, a stark difference from the rest of Kings Landing and the Keep. The silence held a certain comfort to it, something Naelys was not used to. She doesn't notice Alicent’s gaze until the queen decides to speak. 

"Do you pray often?" She questions, looking towards the princess as she opens her soft brown eyes. Naelys folds her hands into her lap, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Yes... I pray to the Gods very often, Your Grace." She said quietly, her eyes focused on the candle she had lit for her father, the smaller one beside it represented Ser Harwin, though she could not say that out loud. "I can only see my father in my dreams, so I pray to dream when I sleep." 

As a child, Naelys clung to her father. Laenor doted on her like she was the only thing that mattered to him, so while many gave her odd stares and made her feel unwanted in the Keep, her father would sneak her extra cake after dinner, and he even taught her how to spar. His death had devastated Naelys, and the union between her mother and Prince Daemon had put an extreme strain on their relationship. She had a hard time connecting with her youngest brother, Aegon, due to how she felt about Daemon. 

It was difficult. 

"My stepfather teases me, but I find comfort in my faith." 

Alicent is quiet, and she looks away, her eyes narrowed slightly. 

Faith was a strong ally, Alicent Hightower knew this better than most. 

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

Naelys sits at her dresser, undoing her braids as she looked at herself in the mirror. The snowy-white tresses of hair fall down her back, and she can hear the distinct sound of her music box. Her grandmother would be arriving soon, Rhaenys had just sent word of their departure from Dragonstone. Rhaena had brought Joffrey to her quarters, as he was getting fussy and their mother was already abed. 

"Are you worried? About marriage, I mean," Rhaena asks swiftly, her dark eyes focused on the young boy as he rolled around in his sister's bedding. Naelys walks over to the large bed, handing her brother a toy before settling next to Rhaena. They had become close in the years since their parents had gotten married, Naelys acting like an older sister towards Baela and Rhaena. Baela had voiced her displeasure in letters about Naelys' union to Aegon, and they were all sure they would hear more once she arrived in court. "Of course I am, but it's my duty." Naelys responds plainly, huffing slightly as she rakes her fingers through her hair. "Will you watch over Joff once you return to Dragonstone? I'm sure mother will have her hands full with the new babe..." Rhaena frowns, her eyes narrowed sadly. 

"I wish I could stay with you here... perhaps you could take me to ward," Rhaena scoffs, seemingly not liking the idea of her cousin being married. "If you stayed here with me, you wouldn't have the chance to claim a dragon, Rhaena," Naelys rises from the bed, grabbing her cousins hand and leading her towards a brazier stationed by the window. With a steady hand, Naelys uncovers it, revealing a pale pink egg, with onyx sprinkled on the scales. Rhaena's eyes widen, shockingly she looks towards Naelys as the princess smiles softly. 

"Silverwing released a new clutch of eggs," she says, admiring the egg with happy eyes. "When I saw this one, I immediately thought of you, Rhaena." "I want you to bring this egg to Dragonstone with you, and if we're lucky enough, Morning will be yours." 

Rhaena wants to speak. She wants to remind Naelys that isn't how claiming a dragon works, but the egg is so beautiful, and she feels a striking pulse of connection whenever she gets too close to it. 

This may be her dragon.

hello, hello! I hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter, and any feedback is absolutely appreciated! 

just an extra note, I'm fully aware that Morning didn't hatch from Silverwing, I just made it that way for plot purposes 🎀

masterlist ᡣ𐭩

[clockwayswrites]

Like Betta Fish Do Part 25

WC: 3,537 Masterpost CW: Canon typical violence

“I can’t believe I’m in a custom suit,” Danny said as he admired himself in the mirror.

“It is really weird the first few times,” Jason agreed as he did up his own cufflinks.

Danny twisted so that the very faint blue on blue pattern sewn into the suit caught the light. It gave the impression of rolling waves. “So how many fish things did you manage to fit in?”

He watched the reflection to catch Jason’s lips tick up into a pleased smile.

“Well there’s the fabric itself, deep ocean blue.”

“And patterned like waves,” Danny finished. “I caught that.”

“Your shirt and tie are sea foam white.”

“Okay, that one might be a stretch,” Danny said, but he touched the fabric gently.

Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m counting it. The pocket square, very nontraditional, is a Japanese indigo linen in a pattern that is a historic representation of waves. The buttons are abalone, the cufflinks red coral, and the tie pin is mother of pearl.”

“Six, if I give you sea foam white.”

“You better, I worked hard on this. And it’s actually seven, one last thing,” Jason said. He picked up a blue velvet jewelry box off his side table and held it out.

Danny took it curiously. It was bigger than a ring box, but smaller than a necklace case. He brushed his thumb over the soft covering before he snapped the lid open. His breath caught.

Inside was a set of earrings. Simple silver studs for for his cartilage piercings, a pearl earring for his left ear, and then the show stopper: a crystal studded and delicate woven silver betta fish on a chain for his right ear. Its black pearl eyes were bright. They almost made it seem alive.

“Jason…”

“I tried to stay subtle with the rest, but this I couldn’t resist,” he said. “You’re my fish, and everyone at the gala should know that.”

Danny carefully closed the box before he flung his arms around Jason’s neck and pulled the other down for a kiss.

“Careful,” Jason murmured when the kiss broke, “if we show up late and mussed Tim will frown at us the whole night.”

“That would be a shame,” Danny whispered back before kissing Jason again.

“I can’t believe I’m being the voice of reason,” Jason said, “but you have to let me get dressed.”

“Fine,” Danny said, even if it made him want to pout. “Maybe… I can take it off after the gala then?”

The pink that Jason blushed was more than worth being bold and Danny took a moment to admire it before he turned to put in the earrings.

Behind him, Jason knotted a white (or sea foam, Danny supposed) tie and shrugged on a matching jacket. The suit looked bright, almost glowing, against the rich blue dress shirt that complimented Danny’s own suit. He couldn’t be sure what it was from this distance, but Danny thought he saw the glint of white on white embroidery on the cuffs and lapels of the suit. It was the silver fish bone tie pin that made him laugh.

“People are going to have questions.”

“Let them,” Jason said with a cheshire smile.

“I’m starting to get what going to a gala with you will be like,” Danny said.

“Oh, this is tame for me,” Jason said. “I’m behaving.”

“I know, it’s part of your charm.”

“If only the press thought that,” Jason said, grabbing his phone as it beeped. “That’s our car.”

“I wish we could just take your bike,” Danny said, watching Jason put his phone back down, “and our phones.”

“Suit lines. I’ve got a connection to the family,” Jason assured Danny.

“Still. But I guess those suit lines do really great things for your ass and it would be a shame to ruin that,” Danny agreed with a put upon sigh.

“You’re incorrigible tonight,”Jason said (not that he seemed to mind if his smirk was any hint).

“Maybe it’s just that new years mood,” Danny said with a little shrug, lacing their fingers together as they left. “This year turned out pretty great, and I bet next year is going to be even better.”

“Yeah? Any reason for that?”

“Well, I happened to move to a city that’s pretty weird but also pretty awesome,” Danny said.

“Good reason,” Jason agreed. “What else?”

“I’m finally in the degree for what I want to do, and I’m kicking ass at it.”

“Of course you are, you’re brilliant,” Jason said, holding the door open to the town car after he subtly checked the plates. “Nothing else?”

“Well,” Danny drew the word out as he slid into the car. “There’s this guy I met, maybe you know him? Tall, dark, and handsome?”

“I don’t know, he doesn’t sound real,” Jason teased and leaned into Danny’s space.

Danny leaned up and pressed Jason into a light kiss. “He is pretty magical.”

-

“The red carpet, less than magical,” Danny said once they were through the sea of reporters and photographers. “I’m going to be seeing camera flashes for weeks.”

“Only a few hours at most,” Jason said.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not, your whole being is just one blinding white blur,” Danny said, motioning at Jason, who laughed and caught Danny’s hand.

Jason pressed a quick kiss to the fingertips. The cameras went off in another round of flashes, apparently not having enough of the lost Wayne and his boyfriend. “Come on, let’s head further in away from this circus.”

“Is your family here yet?” Danny asked as they headed into the gala proper. Jason was skilled at keeping them moving without getting caught up by any one group, even as he greeted some of them.

“Bruce, Damian, and Duke arrived pretty on time so Bruce could greet people. Tim is around here somewhere too, networking I’m sure unless Bernard has distracted him. He’ll have arrived with Cass and Steph, who you haven’t met. Steph isn’t family, but she’s family, you know?”

“I think so?” Danny at least assume that meant she was in the Bat life.

“And Dick should be around here or will soon, likely with Barbie.”

“Barbie?” Danny took one of the drink glasses that Jason had snagged. The tart tang of cranberry bloomed across his tongue followed by the burn of alcohol and lingering taste of sugar. It was good.

“Yeah, but don’t call her that. Her name is Barbara, but she goes by Babs.”

“But you can get away with Barbie?”

“He was a very cute kid,” a voice behind them said. “Somehow he convinced me to let him.”

Danny spun and then had to look down to meet the gaze of the red headed woman in a wheelchair. He couldn’t help but feel a pang for Jazz, but it was softened by the fact that he’d get to see her soon.

“Bull,” Danny said with a smile, offering his hand. “I refuse to believe that Jason was ever not a little shit.”

“Oh, no, he was still a little shit,” Babs said, returning the handshake firmly. “But he was a cute little shit.”

Danny sighed dramatically and looked over at Jason. “Where did you go so wrong?”

“Hey, I believe it was you who were extolling the virtues of my ass in this suit not that long ago,” Jason said with just the hint of a pout.

“I think most of the press will be doing that too, so I’m not sure how much weight that has,” Babs said, painted lips ticked up in clear amusement.

Jason just sighed while Danny laughed.

“I like you, Babs. Is Babs okay for me to call you?”

“Of course, you’re Jason’s man, so you can call me Babs. And I really do prefer it to Barbara. The name is just a little old fashion, you know?”

“And you’re a modern kind of woman?” Danny asked with a smile.

“In so many ways,” Babs said. “But I better go make the rounds, or at least find where Dick is. He got distracted.”

“Isn't he always?” Jason said and bid Babs farewell.

“Are they together? Dick and Babs?” Danny ask as he watched her wheel away.

“Not anymore, but they were,” Jason explained. “They’re still really close. And Babs has been close to the family for a lot of years, so she’s special to all of us, you know? She’s a real inspiration to Cass and Steph.”

Oh, that sort of friend. “Wait, was she?”

“Yeah. So you know.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Danny said. The wheelchair meant something a little differently now. He took a breath and looked around the gala, which was already swarming with beautiful, laughing people. He felt out of place without Babs’ friendly face distracting him.

“Come on, I bet we can find some family to talk too,” Jason said, taking Danny’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “There are a few people who I’ll need to hit up tonight for the Foundation stuff, you know, try to get some donations from them or build up the start of that, but you don’t have to hang with me during any of that. There's plenty of siblings around for you to chat with and use as a distraction. Hell, could always introduce you to Lucius or some of the other inventors we have and you all could talk nerd shop.”

“Nerd shop,” Danny repeated with a sigh. “You say Lucius who I’m going to assume is the Lucius Fox and call it nerd shop like that man is not out there breaking barriers and changing the world with his inventions? And that’s just the stuff that’s been announced to the public! Who knows what else he’s been doing behind closed doors! It must be mind blowing.”

“Well, thank you, but I have a lot of very smart people working for me, so it’s hardly just my work that’s out there making waves,” a silky voice said from behind them.

Danny spun and couldn’t help the little squeak he gave.

Jason chuckled and reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Lucius, how are you doing? Did you manage to drag any of your family to tonight’s event?”

“Just my lovely wife. The rest found excuses, you know how it is.”

“I do. Sadly I’m in a position of note now,” Jason said, the words practically had air quotes around them, “so I’m afraid that my days of excuses are gone.”

“Oh, I’m sure that you can still find a few when you truly need them. You’ve always been mighty good at that.”

Jason just shrugged with an unrepentant grin. “Well, you know. But anyway, Lucius, this is my boyfriend Danny. Danny, this, as I guess you know from that sound you made, is Lucius Fox.”

“Of course I know. Really, sir, the work you and your teams have done… amazing.”

“Just Lucius, Danny,” the man said, reaching out to shake Danny’s hand. “If you’re dating Jason I expect that we’ll run into each other from time to time and I am too old for formalities like that.”

“Alright, just Lucius then. I can’t wait to tell my friend Tucker I met you.”

“Another one for, what was that you said Jason, ‘nerd shop talk’ like you are?”

“Totally. He’s in computer sciences, but he’s not bad at engineering some hardware when he needs to. Mostly to be able to get his software to run on, but I always make fun of his soldering.”

“So you must solder a lot then?”

“Yes s— er Lucius. Aerospace engineering, but I grew up always tinkering and things. I still do it some, but it’s harder here when I don’t have the space, you know? First dibs on tables and tools go to the other majors, which I get, since they need them more than us.”

“Still, hard not to be able to get your hands dirty when you want to. Are you going to be in Gotham for the summer? Not sure where you call home.”

“Well, at the moment, home is Gotham. I want to visit some friends and my sisters, but I’ll be here, yeah. I might take a summer course and get an advanced math knocked out or something.”

“A good plan. You should reach back out to me around early May then. I bet we can find a corner of one of the labs for you to at least use on the weekends when no one is around doing work much.”

“Really?” Danny said, hands twitching at just the idea of getting into a space where he could do some inventing. He had so many new ideas from his time at Gotham U on to improve some of his parent’s inventions or even make new things.

“Really. There will be the usual red tape and all, background checks and paper work and hours you’re allowed in, but those things can be worked out. Can’t keep a curious mind and skilled hands stagnant, now can we?”

“I know I can’t,” Danny said with a little laugh. “Thank you Lucius, really, I’ll definitely take advantage of that again. And start planning! I mean I have plans, of course I do, but a lot is just rough sketches, you know? I need to do some proper diagrams for a few things.”

He didn’t want to waste a moment once he had access to tools again— especially not the tools that were available to him at a place like Wayne Enterprises. Danny idly wondered if it would be out by summer that he knew about the Bats. Lucius had to be involved in that work and it would be so cool to take a look under the proverbial and the literal hood of those gadgets. Did they store the Batplane here?

Lucius chuckled and smiled. “Yes, I think you’ll fit right into that corner. You two boys behave now.”

“Never,” Jason said with a laugh and shook Lucius’ hand one more time as they parted ways.

The night turned into a slew of little meetings like that— people coming up to talk to Jason. Some of the conversations were enjoyable like with Babs and Lucius (Steph was overwhelming, but cool), some were with the many family members Jason had, and some were with the tpyical the socialite crowd. Those people seemed either to be there to get their claws in Jason or to observe Danny like he was some curiosity. Danny really could do without that type. Luckily, Jason seemed to know this, and Danny was passed off to Dick a few hours in and then freed to the food table after some teasing.

Really, even with the gawkers, the night was pretty fun.

-

“Hey Barbie, have you seen Danny recently?” Jason asked as he crossed her path at the party.

“No, but I’ve been talking tech. Have you tried over by the food?”

“That’s where I just came from,” Jason said with a little frown. These things were really too busy, one of the many reasons that he hated them. “I guess I’ll go try another sibling. Dick hadn’t seen him in a bit either, he got distracted by one of the people from the foundation that works with kids.”

“I keep waiting for him to join you there, you know. You could try Tim if he hasn’t been co-opted by Bernard yet,” she suggested. “How long has he been schmoozing?”

“Too long, Tim is worthless to me I’m sure. Cass would be—”

Jason dropped instinctively to cover Babs before he even registered the sound of shattering glass.

“Jason—”

The all to familiar muzzle of a gun pressed into the base of Jason’s head. “Turn around slowly. Try anything and I’ll shoot through you to get your lovely friend.”

Jason locked eyes with Babs, a thousand messages passed in that look as he slowly raised his hands and turned around.

It was one of the waiters.

Okay, it was a number of the waiters, Jason mentally corrected as he took in the room. Each of them with a gun pointed at some portion of the party. Jason spotted Bruce and Damian where they were being rounded up and Steph over on the edges of the room, but he couldn’t find Tim, Dick, or Cass on the quick glance at the space.

He snapped his focus back to the gunman at a popping sound. The man raised his left hand to his face and smeared the popped paint pellet across his face, coating half of it in a splotchy blue.

Guess they knew what Two Face was up to now. Speaking of the man of the hour, Two Face walked through the shadowed window, black and white suit spotless and fit for the event, and flanked by henchmen. He was clapping. Head tilted so that the bright lights caught his good side.

“Lovely event Bruice! Really, a shinning light in Gotham to ring in the new year. Don’t mind us, please, we’re just here to pick up the usual, jewels, watches, money clips, wire transfers. I’m afraid we need the extra funding…” He twitched, twisting so that the scarred side of his face was tilted forward. “Because the damn Bat made sure we lost it all! I’m hoping he shows tonight. I’d like to make sure he doesn’t make it to the new year!”

Dent cleared his throat; his right hand smoothed back his hair, tipping his head back the other way. “Sorry about that. Just some… linger resentment. You all know how it is. But let’s not get too serious yet! Brucie! And his adorable little spawn! Some of our guests of honor too! Behave if you don’t want to be shot in the head.”

Jason watched helplessly as Bruce, Damian, and several other social elite like the mayor were lashed together with rope. Two Face walked over after they were trussed and slapped a bomb to Bruce’s chest. While the the henchman secured it, Two Face turned to the crowd.

“Where is he? Our darling lost prince of Gotham?”

The gunman stuck the cold metal back to the base of Jason’s neck and pushed him forward.

The bomb started ticking down.

“There you are! When I heard you returned to us, my heart swelled, truly,” Dent said, looking up with his good eye as if praying to heaven. “And now! Now I hear you’ve found love!”

Dent bent over, cackling. The enlarged, yellow eye looked up at Jason from under the white bangs. “So let’s play a game while we count down to midnight.”

Two Face’s goons dramatically rolled out a podium. Two bright red buttons were mounted to it, right below a large television.

Danny was on the screen.

He was tied to a chair in some building’s basement. A bruise was already blooming to life around his right eye, deep blue as his suit. He had clearly caught a fist to the lip too. The fish earring was bright silver, catching light reflected from the pool of water that the chair was sat in.

“As you see, we’re giving your boyfriend some hospitality,” Dent said, smooth side of his face to Jason as he walked around the podium like some perverse Vanna White. “So you have a simple choice: decided what type of love is more important to you. Do you press the left button and save your boyfriend, letting your family and these other lovely people die to the bomb…”

He rounded the screen, scarred open eye starting at Jason accusingly. “…or do you press the button on the right and save the people in this room, but fry your boyfriend to death with electricity?”

Two Face snapped his fingers.

Danny’s head jerked up, unfocused eyes staring just to the right of the screen.

“Hey, dead boy,” Danny rasped. Just talking made the split on his lip crack and bleed again, adding another line of blood to his chin. On the screen the red was bright, bright, bright—

Jason clenched his hands. He was going to kill Two Face. “Hey, fish.”

“You know, the irony of this whole thing is that it does make me realize I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you.”

“Yeah? That's convenient. I've been in love with you for weeks.”

Dent cackled and motioned grandly at the trussed up people. The bright, bright red of the bombs’ timer counted down another tick. “Looks like you're all out of luck! True love always wins.”

He twisted to Jason with the scarred side of his face and growled, “Forty-five seconds left.”

“You know what you have to do, don't you?” Danny asked.

He was smiling at Jason, a soft calm thing. But Jason didn't know if he could trust it. He didn’t know Danny's limits. He didn’t know if this would kill him the rest of the way.

But he did know what Danny would never forgive him for. He knew he didn't really have a choice. “I do. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.”

Jason lunged and hit the right button. On the screen, the wires sparked bright with electricity, lighting up the pool of water. And Danny screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

The camera cut out.

---

AN: We're finally here! To the scene I wrote last year! Aaaaaah~

I would say I'm sorry, but this time I truly am not. (Please don't stab me.) ._.

It will be fiiiiiiiine... right?

[kyu-piddy]

The Mother-in-law

In celebration of Mother’s Day in my country, here are some headcanons of meeting characters' moms (and a grandma).

Gn reader x Jade, Floyd, Kalim, Sebek

Afab reader x Ruggie

Tw: None 

1.8k words

Having a boyfriend comes with extra relationships, and you’re about to meet one of the people most important to him.

Mama Leech

Mama Leech is a classy lady. Tall and lanky like her sons, she exudes an air of elegance but also threatening, her sharp teeth gleaming like pearls.

She sometimes comes to land on business matters, and knowing that you were dating one of her sons, she just had to meet you.

Sitting across from her at the Mostro Lounge is a nerve wracking experience. You feel like you have forgotten how to even use a fork.

She daintily stabs hers on the steak, her enigmatic yellow eyes never leaving yours.

Her voice is velvety smooth, sharing pleasantries with you, all talk but with as much substance as water has flavor.

Suddenly, she goes quiet, her teeth seemingly becoming more jagged.

“I hope you do have good intentions with my son. He’s a nice boy who deserves the best, don’t you think so?”

“I don’t know what the “best” could be, but I do think he deserves to be happy in the way he wants to be.”

She continues with amicable and innocent topics thereafter.

If you’re dating Jade, she’ll say:

“My dear Jade is such a hard worker. You must help him relax from time to time, or he’ll overwork himself.”

If you’re dating Floyd, she’ll say:

“My dear Floyd changes like the currents. When you’re around him you’ll never know how he’ll react! It’s so delightful.”

Regardless of who has captured your heart, she’ll offer you a little trade secret.

“There’s something nobody knows, not even his twin, that when he was little, he…”

Before she can continue, the tweels appear to retrieve the plates and silverware.

If you’re dating Jade:

“I hope the meal was to your liking.” says Jade.

“Jadeeee! Mamma was about to share something fun! ___ wants to know too, right?”

“But it is rather impolite to share others secrets, is it not, mother?”

If you’re dating Floyd:

“Mama! Ya can’t talk about me behind my back! I'm the one who’s gonna share secrets with ___!”

 “Now, now Floyd. We shouldn’t interrupt our clients' meal.”

Mama Leech smiles innocently at her children.

“It seems time has passed by way too quickly. I must take my leave.”

She stood up so graciously you would have never believed she had fins instead of legs most of the time.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, my dear. And you, my darling boys, don’t forget to answer my messages more often!”

With that said, she gave you and her sons a tight hug, before disappearing out the door.

Lady Al-Asim

Lady Al-Asim is a beautiful woman. She’s not called the rose of the desert for no reason. But unlike what that title might suggest, she is not fragile.

Once she learned that Kalim had gotten a partner, she wanted to meet them as soon as possible.

You’d be invited to spend some time with her in her wing of the Al-Asim estate, along with Kalim, so he could introduce you to her.

The meeting place is a room filled with pillows and carpets. As you sit on a plush purple pillow with golden embroidery, you can’t help but think that it must be worth more than everything in Ramshackle combined.

Kalim grabs your hand and smiles radiantly at you, calming your nerves.

Lady Al-Asim enters, a goddess among humans, ladened with jewelry and precious silks.

But the most beautiful part of it all is her warm gaze at seeing her son, and the way she walks slightly faster than what you assume is protocol to greet him.

After inspecting her son and filling him with kisses, she sits in the middle of a dune of pillows in front of you.

“Hello, my dear. How do you do?”

“You must be feeling awfully warm. I’ll ask for some drinks to be fetched. Are 12 varieties of tea and 23 of soft drinks alright with you?” 

Her words are polite and warm, and the conversation is pleasant.

Kalim sings your praises at every opportunity, and so does his mother, remembering with staggering accuracy the things he has told her (and they were many).

It feels like you’re in a competition to see who can praise you the most.

It’s embarrassing, but they’re both so genuine in their compliments and admiration that you can’t help but feel your heart well up with happiness.

“Oh goodness, look at the time. It’s getting rather late and you both need to go to bed early.”

Kalim deflates a little, but perks right back up.

“That’s fine, mother. After we graduate we’ll have way more time to chat like this, as a family!”

You almost spat the tea you were drinking, but Lady Al-Asim's smile just got bigger.

She escorted you both personally out of the room and into the teleportation mirror, giving Kalim a big hug and ordering servants to bring him piles upon piles of things.

Kalim went ahead, leaving you alone with his mom for a bit.

“Take care of my dear Sunshine. He loves you very much and I reckon you love him too. And above all else, be happy.”

Out of her pocket she retrieved a small golden bracelet.

“Ground my son. But also let him sweep you up in his magic carpet once in awhile.”

You arrived at NRC feeling warmer than when you were in Silk City.

Grandma Bucchi

Grandma Bucchi is a kind old woman. Her face is marred with age, but she moves with the speed of someone three times younger than her.

Ruggie wanted to introduce her to you, seeing as she is the most important person in his life.

Initially he was a bit reluctant to bring someone like you to the slums where he grew up, but since you were so insistent on meeting her, he eventually relented.

Once inside the house, a humble abode filled with knick knacks of various origins, a tasty smell fills your lungs.

Grandma Bucchi leaves the kitchen with her gray hair in a bun, cleaning her hands in her apron.

“Ruggie boy, is that you?”

“Yeah, Grandma. It’s me.”

The small woman approaches her grandson and squeezes his cheek.

“I could barely recognize you. You’re almost skin and bones. Don’t they feed you at that fancy school?”

As she stops pinching his cheeks she turns to you.

“So you’re the famous ___? You’re rather pretty aren’t you?”

Before you can thank her, the old woman is already walking back to the kitchen.

“I’m finishing my stew. Sit down and sip some dawa.”

“Grandma, let me help ya. You know your bones aren’t what they used to be.”

“Ah, boy! Don’t get between me and my kitchen. And don’t leave your datemate hanging.”

You sat down on the wooden chair and sipped the warm drink on the table. It had a sweet, and despite being warm, fresh after taste.

You both sat in silence, the sound of the sizzling water filling the background.

Soon after Grandma Bucchi came out of the kitchen holding a big pot, a heavenly smell permeating from it.

“Dig in, children.”

You gladly started eating, and soon the lul of chewing and conversation filled the room.

“I hope my grandson has been treating you well. He can be a handful sometimes, I tell you. But he’s a great cook.”

The day soon turned to night, and the time to leave was approaching.

“Before you leave, children, take the rest with you. I want you both to be eating well!”

“Granny, ya should keep it for you and the kids.”

“Oh, Ruggie, we have enough for all of us. Just don’t give me any more kids to take care of! At least for now.”

You both blush profusely, heat creeping up to your ears.

“We ain’t gonna do that! Bye, Grandma!”

You both hastily left, but you could swear you could hear the old woman chuckle under her breath “ah young love”.

Mrs Zigvolt

Mrs Zigvolt is a tall imposing woman, boisterous, full of pride for her family and also a truly powerful fae.

From the moment your relationship became official, Sebek wanted you to meet his mother. 

To him, she’s perfect, and he wishes for her to approve of his relationship.

When he got news that she’d visit the NRC campus he was overjoyed, and immediately designed a plan to teach you as much about fae culture as possible.

His passion is admirable, but it’s obvious he’s incredibly nervous, practicing in front of his mirror what he’ll say to his mother.

On the day of the visit, he waits for her in the mirror hall, standing as straight as if he was practicing a drill.

You put your hand on his shoulder, and see him relax just a tiny bit.

When his mother arrived, tall and full-figured, she reminded you of a well trained soldier, but the moment she saw her son her face lit up, and she quickly strode to him, hugging him with all his might.

“I missed you so much, Sebby! Look at you! You’ve grown so much!”

Her deep and mature voice was surprisingly complementary to her words.

Sebek kept his straight posture, his eyes gleaming like stars.

“Yes mother! I have grown exactly 2,7 cm since you last saw me.”

Mrs Zigvolt smiled lovingly at her son.

“And who might this be?” She asked, turning to you.

“Mother, this is the person I am romantically entangled with. They do not distract me from my studies nor my duty to protect Lord Malleus.”

“And do they make you happy?”

Sebek's cheeks turned bright pink, his posture becoming stiffer.

“Yes, mother. They make me very happy.

His mother clapped her hands and gave you a bright smile.

“That’s what I wanted to hear. Has my son been treating you well, young one? I sure hope so! He can be a bit of a handful.”

She leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“We thought he’d never let himself find someone, especially so soon. But he did, and from what he has told us, he’s quite head over heels for you.”

“Mother, we must hurry if we want to complete the school tour on time!” called Sebek from the entrance, already on his way out, the tip of his ears pink.

“Yes, yes, Sebby. We’re coming!”

He left the mirror hall, and you started walking to catch up to him.

“One last thing.”

She lightly tapped your forehead with her clawed finger.

“Use your head, but don’t forget your heart, okay?”

You nodded your head, and she smiled, booping your nose.

“Now let us go to our Sebby, or the poor boy might die of stress waiting for us.”

You left the mirror hall with a good feeling about this first meeting.

[skyeslittlecorner]

Oh no, everyone has great ideas and you turn them into such amazing stories 🥹 Love family stuffs ahhhhh 😩

How about the kings and their kids prepare for Mother's day? 👀 The kids ask for advices and join their dads in prepare them (...and the king's gifts too... if you know what I mean 👀👌👈)

I love bringing your ideas to life! And I'm glad that you entrust them to me, you don't even know what an inspiration it is, that I can write for you, and you like it. Stay amazing as always 🙏

Family time, let's go!

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Satan and the twins had some trouble with their gift for you. They said they wanted to do it themselves, without dad, because it would be a surprise for both of you. Of course, he agreed, but he still ordered the nobles to keep an eye on them. First they went to Sitri and wanted to paint the cups, but they broke them. Then they approached Paimon to make you your own stickers, but after half an hour, glitter was everywhere. Before they accosted anyone else, Astaroth intervened. He took them to the meadow (so they could run around and shake off some glitter) and only when they got tired did he start telling them about how their father was a child, when they were picking wild flowers for bouquets for you.

Satan himself will give you a box of mint-blueberry chocolates, which you regularly carved at 3 a.m. during your pregnancy, and a smirk with the words "I'm ready for round two." Of course, he pissed you off with that. And since he also brought good wine, get ready for the next five rounds.

Mammon and your little gang will present you with a whole collection of jewelry. You expected them to be pasta necklaces and modeling clay earrings, but of course you underestimated them. Pearl necklace, ruby bracelets, cufflinks with gold beads. Of course, they are made a bit crooked and clumsy, the younger the child the more so, but you and Mammon look like the proudest parents in the world. This is the only jewelry you want to wear.

From the king you will receive a beautiful silk set (actually five sets, each matching one piece of jewelry you received), underwear and a long dressing gown, (and a matching dress, shoes and even a handbag), which you will have to try out together.

Beelzebub loves scribbles, and so does his little girl! The card you will receive will be the messiest, most colorful conglomeration of colored tissue paper, photos and ribbons you could ever imagine. Beel made sure that there was no shortage of materials, so in one place you have shells from the Caribbean, a heart made of Chinese silk and amber with a fossil (where did they get it from? Did he really take your daughter for a walk around the world? You don't ask, you don't want to know the answer).

Beel will give you markers with edible icing. He had a great time with the little one, but now it's time for mommy to show off her artistic talent. Preferably on his body. You can trace his tattoos with a marker, or maybe write something new. He's ready to be your canvas all night long.

Your daughter has Leviathan’s perfectionism, but in a specific version that when daddy likes something, it means it's already perfect. Usually. Sometimes she says daddy has no taste, and that's the sassy part she inherited from you. She would spend a good week sitting in her father's office and embroidering a pillow as a gift for you, with small flowers, because she doesn't know anything else yet. Levi makes sure she doesn't gouge out her eye with the needle, and every time the needle almost pierces her finger, the thread pulls it back. He usually doesn't worry about it, let the child learn. This time he would prefer there was no blood on the embroidery because the gift for you has to be more perfect than anything else.

Leviathan will give you a choker, also embroidered, but with black thread on black material. You can read it only by touch. What does it say? Only you two know. It's so adjustable that it's perfect for both wearing and choking.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C5EyqjvSs_h/?igsh=MTV5dmt0OWUyYmVneg==

(I'm sending this to all ghost writers I can find because I want everybody to see this)

Bestie. You have no idea what you just started.

THIS is my favorite thing ever now.

I couldn't resist writing something!!

Just imagine attending a ball, and this mysterious man shows up with that skull mask?? It's giving phantom of the opera, and I live for it!!!

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Phantom of the Ball

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The large, shining chandeliers almost blinded you, the bright sparkle emitted from them making you keep your head lower. The ball had been dragging on for hours and, as fun as it looked, actually dancing for 4 hours without having anyone to converse with was more a curse than a blessing.

You swore your corset had tightened over the course of the evening and the many alcoholic beverages were doing little to refresh you. Your feet were starting to hurt, not only from dancing but from more than one clumsy man stepping on them, with no chair in sight.

The small crystals embroidered on your skirt had all your attention now as your gloved fingers fiddled with them.

At least it would pass the time faster, you supposed.

Unfortunately, your peace was quickly disturbed when someone ran into you, making you stumble forward. With a scoff on your lips you were swiftly pulled into the dance circle, your head spinning as you were hastily swirled around and passed off to the next man.

There were no pleasantries exchanged as you merely had time to catch your breath, trying to keep up with the pace, before the spiel repeated itself and you were meet with another unfamiliar face.

You were spun around like a dreidl, blinking to stop yourself from becoming too dizzy and falling.

Within the flash of a moment, there was a black wall in front of you. Gasps and murmurs filled the room, and the music slowly died down as all eyes were curiously set on the tall stranger.

He was dressed in the finest silks and velvets, all in black, setting a strong contrast to the creams, beiges, and whites everyone else sported. You craned your neck to take a better look at him, only to be met with an elegant mask, resembling a skull.

He peered down on you in an intimidating manner, sending a, surprisingly, pleasant shiver up your spine. You stared in amazement at the fringe at the bottom of his mask, making up the teeth of the skull.

They were still for now, but you wondered how they'd behave once he'd move. A quick glance around the room made you aware how many couples had taken a few steps back from the dance floor, leaving you and the mysterious man, quite literally, at the center of attention.

"May I?"

He broke the suffocating silence. Despite the roughness of his voice, there was no ill intent to be found towards you, only gentle words.

He held out his hand for you to take, wearing gloves that mimicked skeletal hands made up of various beads, embroidery and pearls.

There was a breath stuck in your throat, you only managed to nod, taking his offered hand. You gasped softly when he pulled you close to him, a firm hand on your waist as he gently cupped your hand in his large one.

He began moving, quite gracefully for someone his size. The music picked back up and, although hesitant, more and more couples joined in on the dance.

You were positively enchanted by this man, watching intently as the fringe at the bottom of his mask moved like a chime in the wind. You managed to make out a pair of mesmerizing brown eyes behind the mask. They made you feel hot and cold at the same time, adding to the exciting feeling in your chest.

He guided you with ease, almost making you float as he twirled you around like a delicate porcelain doll in a music box. Your hand fit into his so perfectly.

You wondered if the soft and rich fabrics he wore felt as pleasant underneath your fingertips as they looked, your hand resting on his shoulder. The outside world started to bleed and fade away as your thoughts were only occupied with him.

There were so many questions and mysteries surrounding the man. It made your heart swell with curiosity.

Before you could inquire more information about your strange suitor, he vanished. His hand slipped from your waist, and although his hand lingered in yours just a moment longer, it was gone in the blink of an eye.

He'd left you alone in the center of the ruckus of obnoxiously large skirts and clacking heels. You turned in every direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of where he went.

The mass made you feel suffocated as they seemed to close in on you. You whipped around like a whirlwind, your eyes flitting over every possible exit.

You managed to see an all too familiar skeleton hand slipping from the doorframe, and determination boiled up inside of you like never before.

You hiked up your many skirts, swiftly ducking under swinging arms and spinning around dancing couples. Your chest was heaving with heavy breaths when you managed to escape, but there was no time to rest.

You continued on, rushing through the door you saw him last. Your skirts rustled, your shoes clacked against the floor, and your breaths were labored as you ran down the long and empty hallway, keeping an eye out for the mysterious skeleton man.

Maybe you should be scared, running from him and not after him.

But there was something so intoxicating about his presence. His gentle touch, the deep, rough voice that you wanted to soothe with honey. And those intriguing brown eyes that held more secrets for you to uncover.

He was like an opioid, making you addicted after the first taste, to have you coming back until the end of time.

Your chase brought you to the moonlit courtyard of the estate.

You leaned forward, hoping to get more air into your lungs.

Damned corset.

Taking a rest on a stone bench, you looked around the blooming courtyard, admiring the many varieties of beautiful flowers. It smelled sweet, a tense fragrance having in the air like a heavy fog.

You were burning up from running, but the chilly evening breeze made you shiver. It was eerily quiet, only a few cicadas and crickets singing their songs for the summer.

You listened closely, hoping the stranger had tried to find some peace here.

You perked up when the crunching of grass under heavy footsteps reached your ears. You quickly rose from your seat and rounded the large hedge.

Your breath for caught in your throat when you spotted his broad back, calmly admiring the red roses, it seemed.

Unfortunately, the man had noticed you and made an effort to swiftly disappear into the night.

"Wait!" You reached out your hand, making him stop in his tracks.

"At least tell me your name." You pleaded, carefully stepping closer, as if not to scare away a wild animal.

You saw his shoulders drop slightly before he turned to face you, looming over you once again.

"They call me Ghost." He answered lowly, looking down on you with caution.

"Will I see you again?" You urged, stepping even closer.

His entire presence was pulling you in. You truly had no control.

You could've sworn you saw an amused glint in his eyes.

"I'll come back to you." He sounded sincere and soft as he spoke.

"Do you promise?" Your brows were pulled together as you swallowed, the urge to touch him twitching in your fingertips.

He glanced to the side before expertly plucking one of the deep red roses off the bush. He offered it you, and you gladly took it, being careful of any thorns.

"I promise." He said softly, brushing a lock of hair out of your face.

In an unexpected move, he gently took your unoccupied hand and slipped off your glove, making you gasp.

He proceeded to gently take your hand and guide it under his mask, the pearly fringe brushing your skin as he pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. Your face was burning up, your heart pounding inside your ribcage.

He slipped his hand from yours again, making yours twitch in an attempt to keep his touch. He chuckled deeply, a fondness in his eyes you would never expect from someone like him.

You swallowed thickly as you glanced down towards the rose he'd gifted you. The aroma was strong. It made your head spin.

When you looked up again, though, he was gone, only the dark sky adorned by twinkling stars staring back at you.

Like a phantom, he disappeared into the night, only leaving you clutching your glove, the flower in the other hand, and a promise you hoped he'd keep.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I am in love with this!!! Tootin' my own horn, I know...

Anyway, let me know what you think! 👀

🩷

More of my works -> 💫

[bitchy-craft]

Your Future Spouse Their Clothing Aesthetic | Pick A Pile

Hello and welcome to this Pick A Pile! In here you'll find out how your future spouse dresses / their aesthetic. I hope you guys enjoy and find this useful. Do make sure to leave comments down below on your experience! I do want to remind you all that this is a General Pick A Pile which means this is for a lot of people; therefore keep what resonates and leave what doesn't.

Masterlist > Ungoing Tarot Game

Pick A Pile!

Pile 1:

Minimalist Aesthetic: The minimalist aesthetic is characterized by simplicity, clean lines, and a focus on functionality. It embraces a "less is more" approach, with a limited color palette, minimal patterns, and streamlined silhouettes.

Key elements of this aesthetic include well-tailored basics, neutral colors such as black, white, gray, and beige, and a preference for high-quality fabrics. Minimalist fashion often emphasizes the importance of quality over quantity, and accessories are kept to a minimum.

Pile 2:

Bohemian Aesthetic: The bohemian aesthetic, also known as boho or boho-chic, draws inspiration from the free-spirited and unconventional style of the bohemian counterculture. It is characterized by a relaxed and eclectic mix of patterns, textures, and colors.

Bohemian fashion embraces a sense of individuality and self-expression, often incorporating elements such as flowing maxi dresses, loose-fitting tops, fringe details, embroidery, floral prints, and earthy tones. Layering and accessorizing with items like floppy hats, beaded jewelry, and suede or leather accents are common in this aesthetic.

Pile 3:

Streetwear Aesthetic: The streetwear aesthetic originated from urban youth culture and has become a prominent fashion style. It blends elements of sportswear, casual attire, and a rebellious attitude. Streetwear is often associated with brands and logos, graphic t-shirts, hoodies, sneakers, and baggy or oversized garments.

Key features of this aesthetic include bold colors, statement prints, unique patterns, and a mix of high-end and streetwear-specific brands. Accessorizing with caps, backpacks, and statement jewelry is also common in streetwear fashion.

Pile 4:

Preppy Aesthetic: The preppy aesthetic draws inspiration from traditional Ivy League and upper-class fashion. It exudes a polished and sophisticated look with a focus on classic, timeless pieces. Key elements of preppy fashion include well-fitted clothing, clean lines, and a mix of vibrant colors and patterns.

Typical items associated with this aesthetic include polo shirts, button-down Oxford shirts, khaki pants, tailored blazers, pleated skirts, and loafers. Accessories like pearl necklaces, headbands, and structured handbags are often incorporated into the preppy style.

Pile 5:

Gothic Aesthetic: The gothic aesthetic is characterized by its dark, dramatic, and often theatrical style. It draws inspiration from the gothic subculture, with influences from Victorian and medieval fashion. The color black is predominant in gothic fashion, and it is often combined with rich, deep hues like burgundy, purple, and dark green.

The gothic style embraces unconventional silhouettes, intricate lace details, corsets, leather accents, fishnet stockings, and platform boots. Accessories like chokers, statement jewelry with occult symbols, and dramatic makeup are also common in this aesthetic.

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It's important to note that fashion aesthetics can vary greatly, and these descriptions provide a general overview of each style. Fashion is highly subjective, and individuals often incorporate elements from different aesthetics to create their own unique personal style.

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[cdragons]

Bound by Embroidered Chains - Aemond Targaryen x Seamstress!OC x Jacaerys Velaryon - Chapter One

Prologue

Summary: Dragons have a habit in hoarding the prettiest of jewels, and pearls are of no exceptions.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Obsessive Behavior (we all knew this was coming), tiny!Aemond is delulu, tiny!Jace is delulu, Dark Themes, not betaread we burn like Harrenhal, etc. Also translations for Valyrian will be added at the bottom! Also I used an online translator for the High Valyrian, so it may not be great 🫠

Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thank you all so much for the amazing support for this story's prologue, I did NOT expect so many positive reviews! I'm sorry this took so long, but I had a ton of applications and finals. But since I am on winter break, hopefully I will be able to upload more fics! Happy Holidays and big shoutout to @valeskafics, who continues to be the HOTD fanfic writing ICON that we all know and love! If you liked reading this work, reblog and comment if you want to be tagged in future installments of this work! Also I apologize for any grammatical errors, I wanted to post this as soon as possible.

You have known your entire life that you were going to be one of the many seamstresses that serviced the Royal Family.

By the age of three, your mother would teach you how to begin your very first stitches, which soon shifted to learning the most complicated patterns of embroidery. You still remember the tears in her eyes as you presented the silk-woven handkerchief that had lovely little purple and blue flowers embroidered on the borders for her birthday. Your face flushed to an almost too bright red when she insisted on showing all the other royal seamstresses and tailors your first handkerchief. But it made you smile in remembering how big her smile was that week, as she was so pleased by how much you’ve progressed at such a young age.

When you were only six, your mother had begun to teach you how to properly extract the dye from beautiful flowers and the scales of brightly-colored insects. So skilled and nimble were your fingers that you even gave your childhood playmate, Aemond Targaryen, a thick green wool cloak with green and silver dragon embroidery. The cloak’s wool had been dyed by your hand with copious amounts of goldenrod and indigo flowers. You then carefully stitched silk to line the inside of the cloak to prevent him from overheating, as even the harshest winters in the Crownlands were hardly anything compared to the summers in the North. It had caught you off-guard in the almost too-tight embrace he locked you in, but you eagerly reciprocated as you could tell he appreciated the gift more than words could describe.

It was not just a gift for is name-day from a childhood companion, but also a way to reassure him that he will one day have a dragon. And even if the gods do not grant him worthy in their eyes, he would always be considered a prince worthy of the Targaryen name in yours. After all, there were not many princes that would willingly spend all their free time with a lowly seamstress’ daughter – even if the supposed seamstress that was your mother was so heavily favored by the Queen.

“Pearl,” came a voice with a tone far too serious despite its youth, “what are you doing in the Godswood?”

You lifted your head from old tome you were studying, only to see a young boy of only nine name-days, that stood as straight as one of the stone pillars that stood in the Sept of Baelor. His white locks nearly blinded you with how the sunshine seemed to reflect on them.

“Well my prince, as you can clearly see, I have decided to take advantage of this fine day to do a bit of studying of my own.” You lifted the near ancient tome on your lap to show him the title, Myths and Legends of the Jade Seas.

Whatever outwardly beauty the book possessed had long diminished, the spine was bent from the hundreds of hours spent looking through its contents and the letters were near faded to a dull grey as the pages yellowed from age. But the colors of the ink remained as vibrant as when they were first painted on the frail sheets, accompanied by beautiful imagery of magical dragons and elusive mermaids. The details were so fine and intricate that it felt as if you only needed to touch the ink in order to be transported into the stories. You remembered how you begged either your mother or father to read it to you every night, as utterly transfixed by the colors back then as you remained so now.

“You are more than welcome to join me, but if – and only if – you share one of those apples hiding in your knapsack.”

Finally showing an expression appropriate for his age, the young prince reached in his pouch to show two gorgeous apples – the skin was practically gleaming in the sun as your mouth watered for its taste. Aemond handed one to you as he sat by your side underneath the plentiful shade of the heart tree. Scooting over to make room on the overgrown root you sat on, you eagerly showed him strange text.

“Look Aemond!” you exclaimed as you shoved the book to his nose. “This book says that there were dragons in Yi Ti! Isn’t that amazing?”

Aemond looked at you as if you had suddenly grown two heads and five eyes. “How can there be dragons in Yi Ti? All the dragons save the ones in the dragonpit and the rocky shores of Dragonstone had perished in The Doom that sunk Valyria. Everyone knows that pearl.”

“These dragons are different! According to my kepa, Yi Ti dragons don’t even need wings to fly!”

The young prince rolled his eyes at that. “How could they fly if they don’t have wings? Even Carraxes the Blood Wrym has wings, and he looks like an overgrown red snake.” Honestly, his pearl could be so silly. “Besides, what would your father know? He’s a bastard from the Iron Islands, that’s nowhere near the Jade Seas.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “He heard so on his travels with Lord Velaryon and Prince Laenor! Apparently, these dragons use magic and live in the ocean. And they don’t even breathe fire! They make it rain and control the oceans!”

“…Pearl, I think you’ve been spending too much time making those dyes. The fumes must have gotten to your head.”

You openly gaped at your friend’s comment, completely in shock for how blatantly he dismissed you. It made you want to pound your fists on his person until he took it back. So naturally, you did just that.

“Aemond Targaryen, you take that back right now!” you shrieked. Although your actions told otherwise, the smile on your face showed that you took no true offense to his words. If anything, it pleased you to know that you could still make the stone-faced prince giggle as a boy should at his age.

“Never!”

As the two of you giggled and played, several pairs of wandering eyes spied and grimaced at the distasteful display. Although your friendship with the next generation of the royal family was no secret, much of the court disapproved of how highly the royal family thought of you and Prince Aemond’s friendship. After all, he was the second born prince of House Targaryen, born of King Viserys and Queen Alicent. By the time the Targaryen prince could toddle, great things were expected from him. From a very early age, he immersed himself in his studies befitting of a prince of Westeros. You, on the other hand, were only the daughter of a seamstress and a bastard knight who became a lord of a holding so minor that it had no name. You only skills were that you could make pretty dye, and stitch pretty pictures with a needle and thread.

But he always treated you kindly and defended you whenever his eldest brother decided to use you as his latest target for mockery. You were a precious pearl – his precious pearl – Aegon may be his brother, but he could never love Aegon as much as he loved you. True, your father being a bastard did you no favors in the Red Keep’s court, but Aemond would never tell you that himself. Instead, he openly acknowledged his bravery and commended his loyalty to the Crown. After all, how many bastards can boast that they saved the Lord Corlys Velaryon, holder of the Driftwood Throne, from a siege of pirates during one of the lord’s many voyages to Essos?

In turn, you always made sure to provide comfort and support whenever his brother and nephews decided to pick on him. Without fail, he would seek out your company – his eyes red and puffy, while his cheeks were wet from hastily wiped tears. You would take his hands and the two of you would venture out to the library’s more secluded sections. You made sure to pack whatever you have been working on with you. While you were glad that he came to you for comfort, it would do little good for either of you if you were to be punished for not completing whatever tasks your mother assigned you.

“Who cares if you don’t have a dragon?” you once asked him as the two of you laid next to each other, surrounded by books. “There are plenty members of the Targaryen line that did not have dragons, but they still lived out important lives in serving their family however they could. King Jaehaerys was considered a great ruler for how he served the realm– not for riding Vermithor. And even if you had a dragon, is that all you wish to be known for? Your grandfather, Baelon the Brave, was wise and beloved by the small folk for how he tried to make their lives easier. But all he is known for in history books is how he burned down Dorne with Vhagar.”

“Better to be known for a dragon than to disappear, not being known for anything – not even a dragon worthy of the Targaryen name.”

Sitting up against a bookshelf, you repositioned Aemond to lie his head on your thighs. Luckily the candlelight made the area dark enough so that you wouldn’t see his ears turning red. Instead, he buried his face in the soft cotton of your blue tunic as you stroked his soft silver white locks. Although his heart was beating erratically, your sweet scent along with your body’s suppleness was enough to take away any ire left in him.

“Stop that,” you ordered, “you will not be forgotten, don’t be so dramatic.” Eyes softening at his tense shoulders, you eased on the sternness of your tone. “Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao.  Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī.  Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros.  Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.”

You pretended not to notice how tightly he clenched your dress as you ignored the how warm the spot where his hot tears grew.

As you continued to stroke his hair, Aemond made a silent vow that when he finally claimed a dragon, you would be the first person he would ride it with. He thought about how his bastard nephews would always try to take you from him, especially Jace, how he despised that boy. No, your touches would belong to him, and only him. Your sweet words and kind demeanor were his to cherish. You were his pearl – his pearl – and no one else’s, especially not the pretend Targaryen that was Jacaerys Strong.

Yes, it pleased Aemond to know that he was your best friend. But sometimes it frustrated him in how you refused to take him seriously as a man. For example, he once announced that when he claimed his dragon, he would finally be a noble dragon knight who would protect you from the most vicious of beasts. No matter how he insisted on his sincerity, you only rolled your eyes at the proclamation. You told him that you had no need for a knight, let alone a dragon knight. You had your dearest kepa for protection, and there was no finer knight in all the Seven Kingdoms in your eyes. So silly was his pearl indeed.

“Ashi’!” a new voice called out, interrupting the comfortable silence between him and his pearl. It belonged to the king’s eldest grandson, Prince Jacaerys Strong Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne after his mother, Princess Rhaenyra. “Your mother is looking for you! She said that she needs your help with Mother’s clothes!”

“Alright!” When you stood from you spot, you made sure to brush away any dirt or debris left on your skirts. You gathered your mother’s book in both arms when you made your way to the prince. “But why did my muña not send one of her attendants instead? It would not have been difficult to find me. Everyone knows that I enjoy reading under the Hearts Tree in the Godswood during my spare time. Are you not busy with your own duties, my prince?”

Straightening his posture to appear taller, Jace did his best to sound as authoritative as his father had taught him. “I just finished my lessons for the morning, and I volunteered to escort you. Besides, I figured that it would do me some good in practicing escorting you. I’ll need to do it in the future when I am king after my mother.” His round freckled cheeks reddened to a rosy hue at that last part.

Not at all catching the terribly obvious implication, you shrugged off his words as you figured that he meant that he was using you as practice for whichever future noble lady he would court in the future. However, the suggestion was not at all lost on your friend, who was still sitting on the overgrown root, glaring at his eldest nephew with a fury that rivaled the Great Doom that sunk Valyria.

“Well, we should be on our way then. Come on Aemond, we should get going!” You held out your held for your friend to hold on to, but were quickly interrupted by the brown-haired Targaryen at the side.

“He can’t! I mean-” stammered Jace as did his best in thinking of an excuse, “-I’m afraid my uncle cannot join us. You see, um – his mother, the Queen, requested his presence in her solar.”

“I’m sure my mother won’t mind waiting for a few moments while I join you in escorting my pearl to her favorite friend, nephew.” This wasn’t a lie on Aemond’s part. While he didn’t like the idea in keeping his mother waiting for him, he despised the thought of you being alone with the Strong Knight’s eldest bastard even more. Besides, his mother adored you as if you were her own daughter. It would have gone without saying that she would be happy with her son spending time with her best friend’s daughter.

“But why would you want to risk it, uncle?” Jacaerys wasn’t going to let his selfish uncle hog all of your attention. You were his friend too! It wasn’t fair that he had find crumbs of your time and affections, while his uncle got to feast on your smiles and laughter. He had spent hours with the dragon keepers of the dragonpit to help him train Vermax, all so that he could finally show you how close he was in riding him! But you were always too busy comforting his stupid dragonless uncle!

Enough was enough. Jacaerys may have been a Velaryon like his father, but he was also a Targaryen like his mother. It was he who carried the dragon’s blood, and dragons took what they desired or felt what they deserved. And he desrved to be with you more than Aemond.

“It’s alright Aemond, we’ll talk more later! Let’s go Jace, we shouldn’t keep our mothers waiting any more than we have.” Grabbing his hand before walking out of the gardens, you weren’t able to see the younger prince throw a triumphant smirk to his uncle before once more facing you with the story of how Luke accidentally got egg in his hair.

Watching his literal bastard of a nephew walk hand-in-hand away with his pearl, Aemond Targaryen felt his fury grow more potent with each step. He hated that you called his nephew by his nickname, all while he had none. What’s worse was the fact that you allowed him to refer to you as “Ashi.” What a ridiculous name, only a lowborn such as his nephew would refer to someone as precious as you as something as study and simple like “Ashi.” You were a pearl – his pearl, in fact. A fact that he felt was important to emphasize as he watched your head being thrown back in laughter. His anger grew to an all-time high when he watched you ruffle Jacaery’s hair with abundant affection.

Not wanting to make a scene, he walked to his mother’s chambers in fuming silence. While her presence wasn’t yours, maybe he could think of a plan to get you away from his whore of a sister and her illegitimate offspring.

If worse comes to worst, he might need to recruit his sister to his cause. He knew that Helaena would especially be thrilled in receiving your presence. You were the only one besides your parents that did not treat his beloved sister like an oddity. If you were not with Aemond, you were often found stitching with the young princess. It seemed that you were the only person in the entire world that could get her to smile.

Such a sweet girl, his pearl. Someone so kind was not meant to endure the presence of lowly bastards – even if they did technically carry royal blood.

He needed to come up with something fast.

Translations:

“Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao.  Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī.  Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros.  Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.” - “You’re brilliant. I’ve never met anyone else who can speak such fluent High Valyrian, especially at your age. You can solve problems that Aegon has trouble with during your lessons with the Maester. Aemond, you are my best friend. Don’t say that you will be forgotten.”

Tagging:

@valeskafics, @faesspace, @aphroditesmoon, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @nellychick, @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @bellamys-girl1, @immyowndefender, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @elinedjarin, @meg-egg-blog, @marvelescape, @mandiiblanche, @lokiofasgard12, @boxedpandas, @anewpersonthatexists, @toodlesxcuddles, @mckiquinn, @cvspians, @aemondslove

[eolewyn1010]

Downton Abbey Fashion 18 - post-war evening dresses

I feel like all the dresses I personally find beautiful are the ones that are not allowed to come back for another season. Unfortunately, this applies to a large part of Cora’s early wardrobe.

Interestingly, while I’m pretty sure she wears this champagne evening gown at least twice, I think she never wears it without the dark brown velvet robe. At least I don’t remember having seen the sleeves of the dress. The colors are a nice enough match, but nothing on either piece points to them having been made as a set. The dress is embroidered in crystal or glass beads, the coat apparently in pearls. But anyway, this dress is lovely!

More velvet, this time in plum over a pink silk base layer. Plus a little white lace trim. So far, so nice, although I don’t know why they made the sleeves of yet another fabric instead of working out something similar to the deep cowl collar. But fine, the beige works as a nice backdrop to a little flower embroidery.

Cora can’t keep off the velvet this season – time for some black. It’s fashionable black, not mourning black, so Cora can afford to pretty it up with netting on sleeves and shoulders, tassels on the sleeve hems, a big brooch in the front, and some gorgeous lace gloves that I desire with a vengeance. Despite this being a quite heavily decorated dress, I think the neckline would invite a discreet little necklace. Ah well.

*sigh* This red silk work is quite an iconic look, and one that stays into season 3. I’m gonna level with you: I think it outstays its welcome. I don’t like this one. Oh, it’s a fine dress in theory; the embroidery is lovely, the red shades coordinate well with the golden shoulder straps, I’m a fan of the fluttery sleeves. But the cut of this bodice isn’t doing Cora’s figure any favors. Is there any reason to make her waist look so disproportionately short without really hitting the Edwardian empire waistline?

Much better. This goes a lot more into 1920s styles with the drapey chiffon top, and I think the hip overlay (sash?) looks very pretty. It’s the only heavily embroidered piece, which seems unusual for the muted coloring of the dress, but it merges very nicely into the wide sleeve cutouts with the jewel trim.

Yay, black dresses with embroidery are keepers for season 3. Okay, this is not the worst of them; the gold thread with beads makes for a pretty cute look, but why does Cora wear a sleeveless dress for Christmas? Or is this a shirt? The skirt is greyer, so it might be separate.

--------------

There’s something with this season and brown dresses. It doesn’t always work in the wearer’s favor. I mean, I like this pleated wrap style, but the head scarf really washes out Rosamund’s beautiful ginger hair and the dress doesn’t give any other color pop either.

Hey, look, it’s a black dress with golden beading. You know what this means: It’s spectacular enough to stay into season 3! I’m getting very tired of this, but I can’t just bitch. The chiffon sleeves are cute, and there’s this style of little grape bundle earrings that pops up here and there across the show.

A black dress I find remotely interesting? Can only be here for one season. See, this one pulls off the empire waist Cora’s red silk dress didn’t want to commit to. And the top is basically just one big stretch of gold brocade (plus or minus some black chiffon for the sleeves). Damaged brocade, by the look of that second image. Is this an original? Is that why they couldn’t keep it around?

One of the subtler favorites of mine: The use of these black scallops is just delicious, how they open to diamond shapes on the arms (over barely visible chiffon that has exactly the color of Rosamund’s skin) and are held together with actual diamonds. I love it, it’s wonderful despite not having made a spectacle out of it.

These shots are not great, but this is rather a lovely dress, albeit one that is in Edwardian style and is thus beginning to look out of fashion. The skirt is some silverish blue velvet that pairs nicely with the paler-colored top, all crepe-work wrapped in a V over a simple light blue base layer. Also, behold the trim. It sparkles!

[15-lizards]

i just found your posts and i love youuu! can you write about the costumes of the Baratheon sisters, called Four Storms and their mother plz?

Thinking ab characters mentioned once in the fake history book>>>

Also I’ll do faceclaims/fancasts again cause those were fun

Elenda Caron was smarter than any man in or after the dance. An intelligent and reasonable woman, she was thrust into the role of lady and then regent of storms end, and had to dress seriously to be taken seriously. High necked gowns, natural waists and shapes, puffy/long sleeves, gilded and shining patterns or embroidery that showed off her rank but not overly gaudy. She’s a woman of moderation. Elenda knows how to emulate power and class and she knows how to do it all reasonably. Girlboss I love her

Cassandra was the most ambitious of the sisters, scheming to try and become queen for years. She adored rich velvets and royal colors. Especially Targaryen colors. Her gowns were always full and flowing but with a tight bodice, and every inch was oft covered in fancy lace, patterns, and embroidery. She wasn’t shy or modest about the clothes she wore. And jewelry was her favorite of all. She even had Borros have a special crown made just for her, formed from delicate gold and pearls, which she frequently wore to court. Modesty? Doesn’t know her.

Maris was the cleverest and wittiest, but said to be the “least comely” of them. She thought frivolous, extravagant clothing did not suit her, so she preferred to wear plain shift gowns. Long, flat skirts, simple patterns, and natural shapes, waists, and sleeves. Her tendency for simplicity was half her no nonsense and skeptic personality and half her internalized insecurity. After the war, when she spurned marriage for the silent sisters, probably for some peace of mind for once, she wore their typical rough grey homespun. No longer having to worry about her appearance was a relief

Poor Ellyn is the overlooked sister. One of the only mentions of her is at the maidens day ball, when one of her sisters spread a rumor that she asked Aegon a lewd question. She was probably chasing attention and approval, deciding to emulate the elder Cassandra. She wore pretty velvets too, but in simple shapes and lighter colors due to her young age. She begged her mother to be allowed to wear her hair up like the grown women did, so that she might be noticed for once.

Young Floris was the prettiest, even if she was rather frivolous. She didn’t like the shapeless clothing of the stormlands, nor did she enjoy the stiffness of fashion in kings landing. She enjoyed silks, satins, and gauzes, enjoying the way it followed around and clung to her perfectly. Borros was wrapped around her finger, ordering whatever Myrish laced or Lyseni silks she wanted, making her the standout at court and the envy of all the young women (though she may have been compared to a Essosi concubine more than once). She never grew out of this airy attitude, as ofc she died from Child by Old Man disease when she was like 16