#costume jewellery is not and will never be one of them

[somecunttookmyurl]

i'm not reblogging the whole post again but @zorilleerrant you are so real for this

[burningembers91]

Loving You From Afar - Park Gyeong-Seok x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Park Gyeong-Seok is in love with you. But his life isn't one he thinks you'd want to share. If only he opened his eyes, he might realise that you loved him too.

Warnings: depictions of cancer, Park Gyeong-Seok's daughter is sick, Reader and Gyong-Seok are lovesick fools, 18+only!

The past few years hadn’t been easy for Park Gyeong-Seok. His marriage to who he thought was the love of his life, and the subsequent birth of his beautiful baby girl should have been a turning point in his life. But sadly, fate had other plans. Na-Yeon had been born prematurely, the doctors uncertain whether she would make it through the night. But his daughter, she was one hell of a fighter, and she pulled through. It hadn’t been plain sailing, her early birth leaving her sickly and frail. Gyeong-Seok never lost hope, he never gave up on the tiny life he cradled to sleep every night. His wife on the other hand, she found it hard to cope. Being a mother wasn’t what she thought it would be, and she wasn’t equipped to deal with a child who needed round the clock care. A few months after Na-Yeon was born, her mother left in the middle of the night. Gyeong-Seok had spent months trying to track her down, but she didn’t want to be found.  

 His dream of opening his own art studio came to screeching halt, and he found himself taking any and every job he could to keep his daughter fed and sheltered. He eventually found himself at an amusement park, painting tourists for less than the price of a cup of coffee. It wasn’t a well-paying job, but Na-Yeon loved spending every day there, watching the characters in their costumes, laughing as they paraded through the park. Her health was in decline again, cancer ravaging her already broken body. But she was so strong, so happy, and that was what kept Gyeong-Seok going. When he could no longer afford their two-bedroom apartment, he moved to a smaller one-bedroom place, giving his daughter the bedroom while he made do with the sofa bed.

That was where he’d met you; the beautiful girl who lived across the hall. The one Na-Yeon spoke of all day every day. you were the one who made him laugh on the days he felt like crying, who took Na-Yeon out for ice cream when he needed a rest or bought her colouring books and toys when he was struggling to keep her entertained. You had such a way with his daughter, and your presence was one that calmed him immediately. It was you who had crocheted the strawberry hat his little girl never took off, something to keep her warm when the chemo took her hair. If you didn’t enjoy looking after Na-Yeon, you never complained. You always had a smile on your face, always had a positive word for him.

He'd fallen hopelessly in love with you over the last eight months, but you would never want to be with him. He could barely afford to keep a roof over his daughter’s head. he couldn’t take you out on dates, or buy you jewellery, or whisk you on a weekend away. Na-Yeon’s treatment took every penny he earned, and there were nights when he couldn’t afford to feed the both of them, so he went hungry. He never asked you for anything, never complained, and yet you seemed to sense his desperation. You’d bring food round every now and again, enough to last them a few days. He would never be able to find a way to repay you for your kindness, would never be able to articulate just how much you meant to him.

He's drawn and painted you probably a dozen times, but he could never get the courage up to give you any of his creations. Your beauty couldn’t compare to his artwork, your kindness could never fully shine through on the paper. Some nights, you’d sit together in his apartment, Na-Yeon sleeping in the bedroom next door. Your fingers would graze each other’s as you watched TV, your knees would bump together under the blanket you cozied under for warmth. You’d smile at him, and he’d smile back, but it never went further than that. You deserved someone who could buy you nice things, who could take you places Gyeong-Seok would only ever be able to dream of.  

The paintings of you stayed tucked out of sight, just like his feelings for you. there were nights he’d lie on the tiny sofa bed, the springs digging into his back, and he’d think about you. He wondered how it would feel to be able to love you, to be able to cuddle up next to you each night, not on a broken sofa bed, but in a plush King size bed with silk sheets. He wondered if his pillows would smell like your perfume, whether you’d smile when he woke you up every morning with a kiss. He wondered if Na-Yeon would grow up to think of you as her mother, turning to you for advice about hair, boys and other things dads didn’t have the privilege of knowing about.  

No one wanted a poor painter though, who had holes in his clothes and a daughter who needed constant care. He didn’t want to be a burden, didn’t want to make your life hard. You were so kind, so caring, and so full of life. He would be content loving you from afar, relishing the friendship you gave him and his daughter.

You wished Gyeong-Seok could see how amazing he was. He was a man broken by circumstances beyond his control, dealt a shitty hand of cards by life. you’d loved him from the moment you met him, carrying his daughter to the apartment across the hall from you as she giggled. He worked so hard to provide for them and you wished you could do more to help. You didn’t want to seem like you were pitying him, because you weren’t. life may have kicked him, but Gyeong-Seok wouldn’t stay down. He was the strongest, most resilient person you’d ever met, and you loved both him and Na-Yeon more than anything in the world. The nights you spent with him, watching TV under the blanket were so precious to you. you thought there might have been something between the two you of, but Gyeong-Seok would only ever smile, and turn his face away. you would be content to love him from afar and cherish every moment you spent with him.

You watched him now, painting a picture of the Seoul skyline while you crocheted a matching strawberry sweater for Na-Yeon, who was fast asleep beside you. You met each other’s eyes, the two of you smiling. Not realising just how much you meant to each other.

[19burstraat]

unbelievably specific modern things the crows would love. too bad they live in a late-1800s fantasy world

Kaz: screenshotting nfts, those web weaving posts about dog metaphors, leaving people on read, stealing from the self checkout in supermarkets, emo phases, wearing headphones but not actually listening to anything so they're just there just as a conversation deterrent, winding up scam callers, escape rooms, pretending to know nothing about pop culture in order to annoy people, playing solitaire online, Knowing A Guy for everything

Inej: social media sleuthing, posting goodreads quotes, strictly come dancing, snoopy, easily accessible climbing shoes, mr darcy, shouting at the screen when someone's judged incorrectly on a competition show, getting unbelievably competitive about wii sports/duolingo scoreboards/goodreads goals/animal crossing islands/air hockey, texting..... With loads of elipses... Like your parents.... and dropping unprompted wisdom in them.....

Jesper: neon clothes, the 💯 emoji, making everyone as miis on tomodachi life but being so bad at it that kaz and nina's miis end up getting married, lisa frank art, scamming people on depop, cheap jewellery that makes you go green, complaining about how cottagecore videos don't correctly represent the Rural Farm Life, shitty 2000s club bangers, the kitsch movement, giving your car a name, hoiking your novelty socks really high so everyone can see them, shitty christmas films, first person shooters

Wylan: speedpaint videos, joe hisaishi, being judgemental about other people's spotify wrappeds, djungelskog, that gif of the japanese mascot costume running through a bunch of explosions, watching weird low-budget adaptations of shakespeare plays with kaz, those arcade crane games, piercing your own ears with a needle and a lighter then being somehow surprised when it gets infected

Matthias: making an instagram account in-character for your dog, posting low-quality graphics of inspirational or biblical quotes on facebook (yk the ones w the landscape or sunset behind them), taking frowning selfies from below like your granddad does, viking media of any sort, buying dozens of identical t-shirts from big tesco, mixing up celebrities all the time, perpetually caving and giving the scouts/guides/youth groups/football clubs/carollers/etc money for their fundraisers

Nina: making bait posts online in the style of 'why can't we just print more money', period dramas, wearing huge mother of the bride style hats to weddings, saving recipes/crafts/art ideas on tiktok and then never actually doing them, pink gin, tiktok edits of fit celebs/characters, 3 hour video essays abt pop culture, saying 'break up with him' in response to every relationship woe, buying cheerful tat from flying tiger

[fanaticsnail]

You Kissed the Clown? Part 5

Part 5 is complete! I loved writing the last one so much, especially the bonus section at the end - so I needed more.

Part 4 is back here.

Echoes of seemingly incohesive sentences could be heard reverberating the chasm within the red and white tent housing the Buggy Pirates.

Cabaji could recall some of his favourite one-liners exclaimed through the lips of his captain being: “It’s like you’re willingly sashaying head-first directly into a fucking circular saw!”, “don’t accept a job from that shady asshole. He’s flirting with you! That’s my job,”, “A stiff drink? A stiff drink?!”, or more quietly uttered; “you can wear any pretty dress you want, my queen. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

He simply had not a single clue as to what his Captain was talking about until he finally decided to clue him in.

“Cabaji!” he heard his captain call him, prompting him to spring to his feet and enter the Captain’s quarters. He looked him over, slightly unnerved at the sight that was before him.

Several pages of loose parchment paper were littering the desk of the painted captain, all map locations of a variety of towns. Buggy traced his gloved hands over the loose pages before ushering Cabaji next to him, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and forcing him to look at the pages below.

“What do you make of this?” Buggy asked him, gesturing to the unorganised pages skewed throughout the desk. Cabaji furrowed his brows and looked at the pages before turning his head over to his Captain.

“You’re going to need to fill me in on a couple of steps, Captain,” Cabaji uttered, “you’ve been saying some weird stuff lately and I just want to make sure I have all the information before I answer.”

Buggy groaned, gesturing to his missing ear with a gloved index finger.

“I chucked this on the rubber brat with the straw hat before he left,” he growled at Cabaji.

“I believe you,” Cabaji confirmed with a nod, “and what does that have to do with the paper?”

Buggy threw his head back and released Cabaji from his firm hold on his shoulder.

“Keep up,” Buggy ordered, “my ear is with the brat, right?”

“Right,” Cabaji confirmed again with another nod of his head, following his captain with his eyes.

“Right,” Buggy affirmed him before continuing, “so I’m able to track them, right?”

“Yes, boss,” Cabaji acknowledged his captain and nodding at him to continue his explanation.

Buggy sighed and gestured to the paper displayed atop the table, prompting Cabaji to turn to truly look and decipher the images he was seeing. Many of them were maps of distant towns, which is something he could understand; as his boss was attempting to track his missing body part. Others were family owned jewellery business fliers, articles of critical acclaim thrown among them. Several costume designers for fine women’s clothes were also thrown into the mix, prompting Cabaji to not quite piece together exactly what his boss was looking for.

“You’re going to have to give me something more, Captain,” he uttered while gesturing to the pages, “we’re going to a town to get your ear and the map of the grand line along with it? They’re in a jewellery shop or at a particular seamstress?”

Buggy slumped his body with a loud thump into a chair at the head of the table, slouching his shoulders over.

“Ok, I give up,” Buggy muttered to the floor, his eyes full of a mixture of both sadness and confusion.

“Captain?” Cabaji asked, stepping towards his captain, “just tell me what I’m looking for and I’ll find it for you. Honest.”

Buggy let out a half-hearted laugh which resembled more of a sigh than anything else.

“I want her,” he said into the floor.

“Her?” Cabaji asked him, arching his brow slightly at his captain’s confession.

“Yes, her!” Buggy yelled, bringing his gaze up to meet Cabaji’s, “the her, the only her. The one that-,” Buggy halted his words before he continued to confess to Cabaji.

“The one that,” he exclaimed before lowering his tone just above a whisper, “kissed me.”

Cabaji’s eyes widened slightly and a small smile came to his face. His boss has a crush, and felt comfortable enough with him to share his dirty little secret.

“You wanna know who she is,” Cabaji said with a sly smile and a slight nod of his head.

“Yes,” Buggy hissed out angrily from between his teeth. Cabaji hummed and nodded again, turning to the pages.

“And what have you got so far?” Cabaji asked, picking up two pieces of paper containing family businesses within the East Blue. As soon as those words were asked, it was like he opened the flood-gates to his bosses inner thoughts.

“She’s intelligent,” he said, rising to his feet from his prior sitting position, “really intelligent. A tinkerer in her family’s jewellery business. She makes treasure, Cabaji. And she’s so witty.”

Cabaji was slightly taken aback by his boss’s exclamation but was curious enough to want to hear the rest of what he had to say.

“Her dad runs the show,” he said, hurrying over to the pages and collecting a few samples from within the greater pile, “but she travels with him for negotiation. Her latest was making some jewel axe-head for ol’ Axe-Hand.”

He thrust some pages at Cabaji of ship logs between ports within the East Blue.

“Is that all?” Cabaji asked, almost desperate for a little more gossip from his boss. Buggy had a wide sinister grin plaster on his face.

“She’s educated,” he continued, “she studied languages, novels, poetry. Hell; she sings.”

Cabaji chuckled a little at the last comment, knowing Buggy had been in the market for someone of your talents in the few months prior.

“Anything else?” Cabaji asked, looking down at the pages before looking back up to his Captain.

Buggy wiggled his eyebrows at his subordinate in slight suggestion before kicking his feet slightly like a child.

“She loves me, Cabaji,” he uttered before hiding his face in his hands, “she loves me! Can you believe it?”

“What do you mean, she loves you?” Cabaji asked, slightly alarmed at the thought that someone would be spouting lies in the hopes of destroying his captain’s confidence, “what happened?”

“She confessed to herself in the bathroom,” he said nonchalantly, arching his brow up and gazing at the backs of his glove adorning hands with a smug smile.

“And that was enough for you to-,” Cabaji began before being cut off by his captain.

“Shut the fuck up for a minute,” Buggy hushed him hurriedly, bringing his right hand over the place that was missing his ear and listening intently before declaring, “that one.”

He pointed to a piece of paper in Cabaji’s hands. Cabaji looked at it before presenting it to him.

“The one with fifteen children?” Cabaji confirmed with him, passing it successfully to his boss, “the one that’s wife passed away four years ago?”

“That’s her,” he whispered almost lovingly, bringing up the page to his eyeline. He smoothed over the article depicting a variety of compliments to your father’s skill as a craftsman of fine tinkering abilities, cradling what appeared to be the youngest child in his arms. He fixed his gaze at the fifteen children, focussing on a woman standing proudly, leaning her elbow on her fathers shoulder while cradling a smaller child at her feet: “there she is. There’s my girl,” he cooed at the page.

Cabaji searched through some other pages containing the title of your family’s business and scouring the words to find some semblance of your first name. He sifted through the pages, trailing them back to front to search for any mention of who you could be while Buggy continued to fix his eyes on your photograph.

“She’s beautiful,” Cabaji heard Buggy whisper, “she deserves the prettiest dresses and to be twirled like the queen she truly is.”

Cabaji smirked slightly to himself, knowing how completely smitten his Captain is with a woman he has absolutely no inkling as to her even her name. He couldn’t recall them having any type of conversation while the Strawhat crew were here, which continued to puzzle Cabaji as to how his Captain fell so hard for this woman.

Suddenly, Buggy dropped the page he was holding and stared off blankly at the wall.

“What is it boss?” Cabaji asked him.

“Oh no,” he began, walking over to the map of Syrup-village splayed on one of the draws in his room, “oh no, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

“What is it? What’s happened?” Cabaji asked again, standing up and alert at his boss’s sudden outburst. Cabaji walked over and looked at the map Buggy was holding.

“The butler,” Buggy whispered before turning to face Cabaji, “it’s always the fucking butler.”

“The Butler?” Cabaji asked him, prompting Buggy to reach toward another article with a young, blonde woman standing beside a tall, dark-haired individual wearing a suit and circular spectacles.

“She’s going to die,” Buggy whispered, “she’s going to die if I don’t do something.”

“What do you mean?” Cabaji asked him, prompting him to further clarify.

“The butler that’s been flirting with my girl this whole time,” Buggy went on, thrusting the page he was holding at Cabaji, “he’s going to kill her.”

Cabaji brought his attention to the new piece of paper that Buggy unceremoniously thrust his way and looked at the darker haired individual on the page.

“That’s Captain Kuro of the Black-Cat Pirates,” Cabaji exclaimed with a small amount of shock, “isn’t he meant to be dead?”

“Oh he’s going to be if he touches a single fucking hair on my queen’s head, that’s for sure,” Buggy spat in a threatening tone.

Buggy turned around again suddenly, alerted to something approaching off into the distance.

“Here or there, boss?” Cabaji asked him, referring to his current state of alarm. Buggy creased his brows and focussed his ears on the several sounds emitting in the area.

“Here,” he said, opening his eyes and turning towards the entrance to the large tent, “something’s here.”

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

After retiring to the guest quarters of the large mansion, you began pacing the entrance way of the room. Nami had retired to her bed after changing into some sleep clothes, whereas Luffy and Zoro immediately decided to go on a quest to find more food and booze with your new associate, Usopp.

When Nami questioned you as to why you hadn’t changed and gotten ready for bed; you immediately confessed to unintentionally loaning your skills as a tinkerer to the unnerving butler, Klahadore. She was surprised at your admission, prodding slightly as to whether you truly were accepting a job or something else, which had you groaning and hung your head in your hands.

“It’s not like that,” you argued with your orange-haired associate, “he freaks me out!”

“And you’d never go for someone unnerving, right?” she quipped back with a small, knowing smirk.

You shot her a slight glare, but before you could say anything in response; a small tap appeared at the door. You turned to face the unopened gateway and acknowledged the source of the noise.

“Goodnight, Nami,” you said before opening the door to reveal the suit-clad butler you were just speaking about.

“Are you ready, Miss Tinkerer?” he asked you while craning his elbow out towards you. You accepted his elbow and laced your arm within his for him to guide you into the workspace he had created for you.

“I am, Mister Klahadore,” you replied with a small smile. He led you through the corridor and down the steps, stopping slightly at the entrance to the cellar before readjusting his glasses with the palm of his hand and continuing to lead you to the workshop.

Sure enough, there was a heavily lit workspace with all of the items you had half-heartedly asked for hours prior; including what you assume was a strong drink for you to enjoy while you worked. You walked over to the workbench and allowed a warm smile to grace it’s way over your face as you ghosted your fingers slightly over the finely kept tools. You quirked your head to the side and pursed your lips as you claimed a multi-purpose tool in the palm of your hand.

“You can keep that, once you’re done of course,” you heard Klahadore offer you, continuing to keep up his proper posture in the work space. You smiled at him and looked back down to the tool, testing it’s weight in your hands.

“And where is the piece I’ll be working on, sir?” you asked him, returning your gaze to the shifty butler who began circling you to seemingly slowly assess your reaction.

“Before I hand them over to you,” he began in a low tone, “I must ask you keep this matter purely confidential. Strictly for our eyes and ears only.”

You kept your gaze on his, weighing up the danger you potentially placed yourself in and knowing he could absolutely kill you if you spurted a wrong answer.

“Confidentiality is not my specialty, Klahadore,” you responded, keeping your tone monotonous, “however, some discretion can be arranged; under dire circumstances.”

He hummed in response, a small smirk beginning to twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“Know this, tinkerer,” he seemingly purred at you, “once I hand this over, I will be completely exposed to you. You will know everything, understand?”

You held your chin high and narrowed your eyes at him; “you’re giving me one final out, am I correct in my assumptions?”

He nodded slightly before readjusting his glasses up his nose and fixing them in place with the palm of his hand. You placed the small multi-tool back down on the workbench before you.

“I am not afraid of a challenge,” you twitched your eyebrow slightly and made your way over to his body and extended your hands out to his, awaiting to receive your chosen task.

“So it would seem,” he allowed an unsettling smile to overcome his face. He reached behind his back and presented two black gloves to you, placing them within your outstretched hands. You furrowed your brows and bore your eyes onto the material of them, noticing small fixtures at the tips of the fingers.

“Claws?” you asked him, turning your gaze back to meet Klahadore’s. His expression held an unnerving intensity as he continued to fix his attention on your eyes. You chose to not engage or acknowledge his unnerving countenance, as you were priorly instructed by your father in life and death situations.

“Where are the blades?” you asked him, bringing your right hand to the tips of the gloved fingers.

“No longer attached,” he stated, looking down at the material he gave to you. You arched your brow and brought your attention back to his.

“And what would you have me do, Klahadore?” you asked him.

“Reattach them,” he replied with a smug, tight-lipped smile.

Part 6

[snotty-zombie]

Rageous-tober part 3!!

Day 19: Velchid

Day 21: Vampire

Day 26: Orchid

More under the cut 😉

Day 19: Velchid

This kinda marks the spot where I started doing more and more for each entry and making life so much more difficult for myself haha I started like adding extra little bits beside the main piece just for fun which made the pressure of posting on time a lot tougher (I eventually said fuck it and just posted them late cuz who gives af haha)

I honestly love drawing full bodies of Rhinestone because she wears such bright clothing and accessories all covered in stickers and charms (her miku keychain is based off of one I own myself reeheehee) and she’s always pulling a funny face

Stark contrast to Velvet with her neat pearl jewellery and tidy hair and delicate acrylic nails. I try to make each part of her outfit somewhat matching and colour coordinated because I feel like her and Veneer are so anal retentive about that sort of thing like they FREAK if something is like slightly off like their shoes and top are different shades of black or whatever- exhibit A, Velvet’s witch costume which is all matching colours as well as her lovely nails and ring

Then there on the bonus pics is Vels tormenting the smelly boys as well as some Velstone angst, they’ll be ok

Day 21: vampire 🧛‍♂️ 🦇 🩸

QUITE PROUD OF THIS ONE, would you believe me if I said I finished it back in mid September because I was so excited for Halloween? I didn’t know I was going to be doing an inktober event this year so when I saw the vampire prompt I shoved this in a box to wait until then to post it

Veneer couldn’t decide between being a cowboy or a vampire for Halloween so he had the genius idea of combining both into one costume… a vampire cowboy! Cowboy vampire- either works. Veneer gives me HUGE vampire energy, just the inherent cuntyness of a vampire mixed with Veneer’s annoying teenage sass is chefs kiss- plus he’s as pale as a vampire anyway so no need for makeup

And his smelly hairy werewolf bf that he can drag along with his lasso and order to bite people

Day 26: Orchid Rhinestone!

Kidding the prompt was Orchid but it was referring to the same Rageon so

This is a really big one haha it was just an excuse to vomit some of my Rhinestone headcannons onto a page and it was sooooo fun

Starting off at the top, she’s a big video game person, only things she spends her hard earned cash on are video games and cosplay materials but she’ll never admit it.

Secret Easter egg moment there of her and Veneer from Jobiesayscheese’s fanfic (my favourite ever fyi, you should totes read it), the girls who know, know.

Sea urchin Rhinestone appearance! Will definitely be seeing more of her because I’m so proud of my furry designs for them all haha omfg, she makes rattling sounds when she moves, particularly when her spines aren’t tied back- I’m sure you can imagine the sound they make, sort of like hollow bamboo being clinked together mixed with jewellery tinkling

AND HER COSPLAY YIPPEE YIPPEE YIPPEE (another ten points if you can name all the cosplays) she’s as hands on as it gets, nothing is bought, everything is hand sewn and glued and all that, she does everything by hand with her own patterns (most of the time), she even managed to convince Velvet to let her make a costume for her one time so they could have a couples cosplay. She also does literally every kind of craft out there and is always knitting or crocheting something for her friends or gf to wear like a cute jumper or a warm winter hat (she’s a giver) or felting holiday decorations as gifts :3c

Part 1! Part 2! Part 3! Part 4!

[generational-atrophy]

hetalia axis & allies (+ canada) xmas headcanons

1.6k words ~ gender neutral headcanons

tw: uhhh christmas obviously. mention of religion and underwear?? uh... i think that's it

a/n: this is my first christmas as a jewish convert so that's been weird. anyway I just wanted something quick, so its mostly a list of gift ideas (:

America

Alfred is SUCH a huge Christmas fan. I mean, canonically he dresses up as Santa, so he goes all out for the entire month of December. He's been working on a huge holiday home display for decades, and it shows.

He plays Santa at his local mall during the weeks leading up to Christmas; and on the night of, he hands out hot cocoa outside his house. It's fun, but it also means he's a little distracted when it comes to you.

What he would get you: Posters of your favourite movies, super comfy pyjamas, expensive figures of characters you like, candy you like but never get for yourself, model planes or Legos for you two to build together, novelty pens, a stupid cowboy costume so you can match <3, those handmade coupons because he 1. Loves you and 2. Forgot about Christmas until yesterday

What he would want: Any video games, Funko Pops, vinyls of music he likes, those big packs of shirts (he is constantly running out of shirts because he rips or irreparably stains them,) Marvel comics, anything with an eagle on it, those mini wacky waving inflatable tube men things, bulk pens and pencils because he also breaks those constantly-

England

Arthur is not big into Christmas and never has been. He'll celebrate with you, but he's not going out when it comes to any aspect. If anything, he finds it a little exhausting getting gifts for everyone

But, he does adore walking around and looking at all the lights. He'll do that a couple times with you in December.

What he would get you: Any novel you’ve mentioned even once, tickets to a concert both of you will enjoy, classy jackets that fit you perfectly, cute keychains, fancy art supplies, fragrances that remind him of you, bags/purses that fit your style, CDs

What he would want: Sewing supplies (thread, new needles, new fabric scissors,) framed photos of the two of you, Doctor Who merch, foreign tea, a book on how to take care of your eyebrows properly (he will not learn otherwise,) slippers, those sarcastic magnets that all millennial women have at least one of, any ridiculous piece of merch with the union jack on it

France

Francis has very mixed feelings about Christmas. On one hand, he hates how consumerist it has become, but on the other hand, nothing makes him happier than seeing the joy the season brings to others.

Plus, he does enjoy giving and receiving presents. The music too? Wonderful. As long as you don't get too stressed out, the holiday should be perfect.

What he would get you: Tons of clothes; stuff that's already your style, and completely new stuff, room decorations (NOT posters,) a reservation at a nice restaurant, bracelets that he made for you, makeup (if you like that kind of thing,) candles that smell like his cologne, CHEESE

What he would want: Fancy fabric, any clothes (he doesn’t care what they are as long as you think they’d look good on him…) paintings or photography, literally ANYTHING creative you’ve made, hair ties (he loses at least 5 a day,) bird stuffed animals, (Basically anything! Francis is not picky)

China

Christmas is a new occurrence for Yao, and he isn't the biggest fan. He'll buy you stuff for it, but he would do that normally. The lights and the music aren't anything special to him either. Basically, he won't celebrate unless you want to.

What he would get you: Elaborate, very expensive jewellery, huge stuff like a car, Chinese cookbooks, traditional clothes that he made specifically to represent you (: luxury handbags (that he got at SUCH a good discount,) tons of weird off-brand merch of your favourite show, probably a nice meal too!

What he would want: Yao is hard to buy for. Soft robes, stuff to help with back pain, face masks, Hello Kitty keychains… reading glasses maybe?

Russia

Although he isn't as excited about Christmas as he is about the New Year, he still loves the holiday. It's a nice excuse to see family, and everyone is just so happy around the season! He's especially excited to celebrate it with you.

He's not the best at giving gifts, but he could be worse. Regardless of whether you like all of it, you're gonna get a lot of stuff.

(Also, he plays Santa for the kids sometimes. It's so cute-)

What he would get you: Random knick-knacks he probably found at a local market, knitted hats and gloves in your favourite colour, a scarf to match his, tickets to go somewhere warm on vacation, stuffed animals! books that made him think of you (usually philosophical or religious novels,) pretty rocks (:

What he would want: SUNFLOWERS! (This works for every occasion,) baked goods, clothes that aren’t 250 years old- new doilies and paintings to decorate his house, pictures of yourself, friendship bracelets, stuffed animals, if you can make a scarf somehow, DO THAT

North Italy

Feliciano cares about Christmas in a more religious way, but he's never mad about getting presents. So, he'll probably spend most of the day in church, but he still did put a lot of effort into getting you stuff you love.

What he would get you: Pajamas & bath robes, shitty romance novels that he wants you to read, weird hand-made knick-knacks, makeup, strange mugs that he found at a thrift store, a painting of you (: probably a pair of his boxers-

What he would want: New paint brushes, novelty pasta shapes, fancy jackets, any art that you’ve made (regardless of quality,) cat stuffed animals, The Ability To Get A Grip, skincare products, shiny garbage (For art purposes, duh,) those handmade coupon things

Germany

Ludwig does not enjoy Christmas particularly. He's terrible at giving gifts but he wants to so desperately that he spends all of winter stressing out about it. Yes, he's excited to see your reaction to his gifts, but at what cost?!

Although he does still like all the decorations at least. Maybe he just likes re-decorating though.

What he would get you: Puzzles you can complete together, soft sweaters, practical stuff you need (like book bags, lens cloths, that kind of thing,) stationery, reservations for private tours at museums you would find interesting, a subscription to whatever silly service you want (:

What he would want: Books about city planning, nerdy card games, a fun lanyard, a new coffee machine, those aroma-therapy diffuser things, household tools like vacuums and stuff (Get him an air fryer. He’s going to be fascinated.) stress balls, pens (He is boring.)

Japan

Kiku really has no particular feelings towards Christmas. If you weren't there, the most he would do was put up a mini tree. He's stressed out by both giving and receiving presents and is only willing to do that kind of thing if you want to.

What he would get you: Electronics, merch of your favourite Sanrio character, books that he thinks you’ll like, stickers, a bento box, comfy sweatpants, cute hairpins, plushies from your favourite media, a bunch of pillows, some obscure Japanese snacks too!

What he would want: Miku figures, posters, video games, manga, general nerdy stuff, history novels (he likes to correct them,) blackout curtains, cute face masks, a Polaroid camera, a guide on socialization (Seriously.) a knit scarf, if you can knit (:

South Italy

Romano desperately wants to care about Jesus more than getting gifts. He's a devout catholic, g*ddamnit! But... he does just really love eating baked goods and getting gifts more than anything. Getting together with family, the music, the lights, he just ADORES the holiday.

What he would get you: Blankets and pillows, your favourite snacks, clothes that are a little more revealing- cruise tickets (if going on wouldn’t be hell for you,) a journal where he wrote down all of the things he loves about you (completely honestly,) religious items, fancy perfumes

What he would want: Paintings from local artists, post-its (so he can finally remember SOMETHING,) anything with the Italian flag on it, stupid bumper stickers, pictures of the other nations that you’ve written insults on, fancy patterned scarves and fabric

Prussia

Like Alfred, Gilbert loves Christmas in a very childish way. He embraces that side of himself during the holidays and he'd love it if you joined him in that. He constantly insists on going out to see the lights, and he just can't get enough of Christmas movies. Even the bad ones (He's a Hallmark girlie.)

What he would get you: A vintage music box, hair dye, DVDs of your favourite movies (just to have,) stationery, random snacks he picked up from a gas station an hour ago, weirdly sentimental jewellery? Vintage journals, pictures of himself

What he would want: Coupons (???) goofy temporary tattoos, metal CDs, tea (he’s weirdly embarrassed about liking tea and doesn’t buy it for himself?) vintage maps that he can frame and hang up, probably like, WD40? DC comics, novelty trophies, Pokemon cards, video games

Canada

More than anything, Matthew loves winter. So, therefore, he loves Christmas! Seeing you smile when you open your gifts, he looks forward to it all season. It seems like the only time of year when everyone else is either as miserable or as happy as he is, so it's his favourite holiday.

Cuddling up in front of the fireplace with hot cocoa, watching some old Christmas movie, its all he wants.

What he would get you: Comfy hoodies, comfy slippers too, hot cocoa packs, big stuff like a new PC or fridge or smth- decorations for your room, face masks, fidget toys, novelty Canadian keychains, figures of your favourite characters, festive sweets (like candy-canes and stuff.)

What he would want: Anything with a maple leaf (yes, he wants MORE of that,) boring stuff like socks, wood-working tools or like a new snow shovel, fairy lights, DVDs (because he still uses them? Why.) a new phone case, gift cards (HES BORING,) pre-packaged crafts, lotion and cologne that smells like pine

merry christmas if you celebrate! this'll probably be the last full thing I post until 2024, so thanks to all you readers for sticking around this year (: you have no idea how much it means to me. i love yall. and to all a good night or whatever santa said

[flowerandblood]

The Pearl and the Sapphire (2)

[ modern! • Aemond x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sexual tension, anxiety, angst ]

[ description: As a representative of a large family-owned gemstone business, Aemond is attending a major jewellery event where jewellery makers from all over the world are exhibiting. One of them is the Baratheon family. Aemond is tasked with focusing on attracting new customers, but his attention is diverted by the youngest daughter of the eminent maker Borros Baratheon. Slow burn, bitchy, possessive and obsessive Aemond, lots of dark angst and sexual tension. ]

A story which is an alternative universe of The Impossbile Choice taking place in modern times. The characters are all the same as in the main series, however, for obvious reasons they will behave differently and experience things differently from medieval times. You can read this without having to delve into the main series.

Series moodboard: Aemond & Miss Baratheon

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

Working on costumes for their family's show at Crystal EXPO was the only thing that kept her from sinking into her grief and sadness after Cregan told her he felt he wasn't ready for a serious relationship yet. Although they had been together officially for several months, he had apparently realised that he was still attracted to other women and didn't want to deny himself from adventures with them.

Cregan was a handsome, warm and open men, constantly making her laugh. She met him when he came to their house to pick up an order for his father's jewellery shop and stayed for dinner with them. They immediately caught a great connection, found each other on Facebook and frequently wrote to one another.

She experienced her first time with him.

He was affectionate and gentle, took his time and gave her a huge sense of comfort, for which she was grateful. Before he even entered her he brought her to orgasm with his tongue, wanting to make sure she was definitely well moistened, and then with slow, gentle movements he took her on her bed in her bedroom, kissing her face tenderly.

Cregan was always frank and direct; she felt safe with him. However, she could see that at some point something was off, that something was wrong. One day she plucked up the courage to finally ask him what was going on and that's when he told her.

"There is a woman in my work. There is chemistry between us, but I would never hurt you or humiliate you with betrayal. However, the way I feel when I look at her has made me realise that I don't think I'm suited to a relationship with one person." He said and covered his face with his hands, his voice breaking as if he was about to cry.

She felt a tightness in her throat and stomach as she looked at him, sitting next to him on the couch, her hands clenched into fists on her lap.

"I'm so sorry. I like and appreciate you so much, I'm so comfortable with you. But…but I think I'd rather end this before I hurt you, you deserve better. Forgive me." He said and broke into sobs.

She stroked his back, feeling strange with the fact that she was the one who had to comfort him. She swallowed with difficulty tears that ran down her face.

He begged her to remain friends, to keep writing to each other, to keep in touch, but she said she needed a break and that she understood him. That she was grateful to him for telling her before he did anything bad.

Still, she felt pain at the thought that she wasn't enough.

She wasn't enough for him to want only her.

She didn't show in front of him how badly she had broken down so as not to further deepen his remorse, however, as soon as he left she called Royce and started sobbing into the receiver. Royce had finished work at his father's workshop early to come to her and spent the night in her room, just sleeping next to her and stroking her head.

He couldn't put his feelings into words, but he was always there for her when she needed him.

When she suggested to her father that their show this year would be themed and that she would sew outfits in which they would present their jewellery pieces he was delighted and kissed her forehead, teasing her skin with his rough beard. Her sisters were also thrilled that they would be able to perform in beautiful costumes at such a prestigious festival tailor-made especially for them.

Thinking about the show, planning everything and sewing filled her days between college classes making her feel better and better.

Once every few days she would get a message from Cregan telling her about his day, each time announcing at the end that he hoped she was doing well and that he was thinking about her constantly. On the one hand, she was glad that he hadn't forgotten her; on the other hand, she found it even harder to understand why they had broken up in the first place.

Months flew through her fingers and she didn't even know when there was only a week left until the whole event. Everyone was excited and had gone there early to prepare their stand. Royce poked her on the shoulder as they arranged the ruby necklaces made by their father on display.

"Have some fun. Pick out some rich snob and spend a nice time with him." He said, and she looked at him with pity.

"I don't think that would make me feel any better." She said amused, a wide smile on her face.

If it had only been about the adventure, breaking up with Cregan wouldn't have hurt her so much.

Before the show itself, she began to feel stressed. She and her sister looked beautiful, on the backstage she was still tweaking their hairstyles and tightening their gowns to make them look their best. Cassandra looked at herself in the mirror, turning with satisfaction.

"Great job, sister. I look like Marie Antoinette!"

Filled with euphoria and adrenaline, she remembered little of it when she and Royce stepped out into the middle, the lights directed at them so that she couldn't see the faces of those sitting around her. Her older brother's presence and smile gave her courage, she just looked at him to avoid distraction.

They knew the dance routines by heart and both had an excellent sense of rhythm, so dancing with him was a pleasure. She was frightened when she turned around during one of the moves and a blue glow flashed before her eyes.

What was that?

She turned again, falling into Royce's embrace, and they continued on for a while until finally the music ended and they moved into their final position. There was thunderous applause all around them. Royce took her hand and pressed it to his lips, placing a respectful kiss on her skin.

"I think you sold us perfectly, sister." He said amused, and she laughed lightly at his words, stepping closer to the audience with him to bow.

"We'll see about that yet, I'm curious…" She said and froze, seeing out of the corner of her eye a men looking at her with a look as if he wanted to kill her, in his left eye socket a large, sparkling sapphire.

Who is this?

She pressed her lips together, unsure of what to do, and blinked, reminding herself that she'd broken off in the middle of a sentence.

"…I'm curious if our father liked it." She said smiling again, bowing along with him, her brother's only response was 'I'm sure he did.'

She breathed a sigh of relief afterwards, when they returned backstage her sisters hugged her saying that it was a great experience and that they should do something similar next year.

She was glad that although they didn't always agree, this time she had the support of her whole family. Her father approached her in tears of emotion, saying that his works of art had never looked more beautiful and the audience was delighted.

For the first time since her split with Cregan, she felt happiness and warmth filling her body.

She and Royce decided to stay in their costumes at the banquet, wanting to draw attention to their father and their products. Borros thought this was an excellent idea and they entered the hall as a trio.

Indeed, they were surrounded by various celebrities congratulating them on their idea and workmanship, asking who was responsible for their attires and expressing admiration when her father boasted that his own daughter had sewn them.

"This is my greatest jewel." He said curtly. She felt embarrassed and looked away, feeling her cheeks burning.

She cast a glance around the hall and spotted from afar the man who had been watching her so demonically during her dance. He was looking at her again, but in the lamplight he looked less dark than she had originally thought.

He was tall, his light hair slicked back, dressed in a black turtleneck, jacket and trousers that perfectly emphasised how well built he was. His artificial sapphire eye sparkled, his scar stretching across the entire left half of his face aroused her curiosity.

She thought he was very brave and clever creating an asset out of his wound and smiled in his direction, wanting to show him that his appearance did not scare her at all.

She saw him tighten his lips and avert his gaze immediately, taking a greedy sip of alcohol from his glass, a mature woman in a long, tight gold dress was saying something to him, but he did not seem to be listening to her.

She wondered if they were together, but the age difference between them was striking.

Perhaps it was his mother?

When she finally pulled off all the layers of her gown in the evening and changed into a Tshirt she breathed a sigh of relief, feeling lighter. She got lots of messages on Instagram from people who found her after the show.

Once she had written them back she remembered the man she had seen during the dance and his disturbing fake sapphire eye. She asked her father at dinner if he knew who he was, and when he found out it was someone without an eye he said it was definitely Viserys Targaryen's son.

She knew that her father had turned down an offer from his grandfather to be their exclusive supplier. Her father, however, did not want to hear about it.

"They want to lock us in their golden cage, fill us with their paperwork and make us dependent. I'd rather be independent and pay more for the stones than let them put a collar on me." He told them then furiously, and none of them had the courage to contradict him.

She involuntarily typed the name 'Targaryen' into a google search to read a little more.

She knew that Viserys Targaryen was his father and one of the main directors of the company, but who was Aemond? She clicked on that suggestion and immediately knew she had hit on it. The first thing that popped up was a newspaper article, so she opened it right away.

She felt an unpleasant tightness in her stomach reading it all. She thought that if she read such things about herself in newspapers she would be horrified and heartbroken. The realisation that their own employees were reporting them to the press to make a bit of money on the side seemed horrible to her, let alone trying to maintain any privacy.

She thought she was not surprised to see no satisfaction or joy on his face, as he had no reason to be happy. He looked as if he was prepared to take a hit from either side, but only now did she understand why.

She thought she felt sorry for him.

The title 'One-eyed heir to a fortune' seemed cruel and mocking to her, as if the absence of his eye was the only thing that defined him as a man. She remembered the sapphire he wore and felt a kind of pride in the fact that he had turned his weakness into strength.

She thought she would like to get to know him.

To see what kind of man he was.

The opportunity came the next day. She was just choosing her tea at breakfast when she heard someone stand down beside her and place his cup under the coffee machine. She glanced involuntarily to the side and saw that Aemond Targaryen in the flesh was again looking at her as if he wanted to murder her. Her lips twitched in amusement, a smile appeared on her face.

"Good morning." She said softly, curious to see if he would answer her, dropping a bag of Earl Grey into her mug.

"Good morning." He replied after a moment, lowly, languidly, with some kind of tension, pressing the button for a double espresso in a reluctant manner, the machine rattled and liquid began to pour out of it.

She pressed her lips together, not knowing if she should say something or if he felt like talking. She poured two teaspoons of sugar into her cup, waiting for his machine to free up so she could pour herself some water, and glanced at him again.

She swallowed loudly when she saw that his gaze had moved from her mug to her face again, looking at her as if he wanted to say something but couldn't.

She lowered her head, tightening her lips, not wanting to offend him, amused that for some reason she had apparently also piqued his interest, which he had been unable to verbally articulate in any way.

She saw that at her gesture he tensed all over and with a swift movement grabbed his cup, apparently wanting to leave. Her heart pounded harder and she looked behind him.

"Your sapphire eye. It's beautiful." She said, and only when it came out of her mouth did she realise how pathetic it sounded.

She wanted to use it to say how much she appreciated his bravery, but it sounded like she, like everyone else, was only paying attention to that one thing about his whole person.

She felt ashamed.

She placed her cup under the vending machine he was using, stepping closer, feeling her heart pounding hard. He didn't walk away, he stood looking at her, his gaze almost burning her.

"Who made these for you?" She added, pressing the button that caused hot water to start pouring into her mug. He was silent for a moment, but didn't move from his place.

"The Hightowers." He replied coolly and she looked at him again, his gaze full of tension, dark and indifferent, there was a vast, black void. She swallowed loudly at the thought, lowering her gaze and nodded.

"The jewellery you were wearing at the show. Will it be possible to see it up close?" He asked uncertainly, with difficulty, and she looked at him surprised, not expecting him to say anything else.

"Yes, of course. At our stand, they will be on display along with other works of my father and brother worn yesterday by me and my sisters." She said softly, and he furrowed his brow, as if something she said had puzzled him.

They both flinched and moved away with their mugs when a man apparently also wanting to make himself a coffee stopped behind them.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, his gaze still fixed on her, piercing and disturbing, making her shiver.

Why was he looking at her like that?

"See you later." She said lightly, and he merely nodded.

She moved towards the table where her family were sitting, feeling that her legs were as soft as cotton wool, her heart pounding in her chest like mad, her cheeks were all red from the effort that this exchange of words had turned out to be for her.

She glanced from the corner of her eye at the table where he was sitting, saw that he had said something to the woman sitting opposite him, the same one she had taken for his mother, his expression one of displeasure.

They were arguing about something.

She shuddered when she saw him get up suddenly and move to the exit, leaving the woman alone. She swallowed loudly when the woman turned her gaze on her, as if accusing her of something, and then took her things and left as well. She lowered her gaze to her tea and began to think hard.

What if they weren't family or co-workers?

She felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought of Cregan. She involuntarily grabbed her phone lying on the table and unlocked it only to see two new messages from him.

She pressed her lips together, feeling the pain, not knowing what to do. She knew that he wanted to continue their friendship, that in his own way he still loved her, but she felt tears under her eyelids.

She thought maybe it would have been better if he had left her alone, instead of tearing her wound over and over again whenever she thought it had had time to heal. She swallowed quietly and wrote him back quickly.

She locked and muted her phone, then set it aside so that she wasn't looking at the display. Royce looked at her anxiously, but didn't want to broach the subject in front of his father.

After they broke up Cregan was his number one enemy.

She managed to distract herself from her gloomy thoughts when they started working on the stand, they were attracting more interest than ever. Their show had been a huge success and she felt a burst of pride.

They had several ancillary rooms with illuminated tables. On one of them she laid out the jewellery she had worn the day before and other items in which sapphires had been used, to show them to Targaryen when he arrived, as promised.

After a couple of hours, when she had just finished talking to a customer, Royce approached her and grunted, a clear embarrassment on his face.

"Listen… young Targaryen wanted to talk to our father, but he said he didn't want to see him. He came with his grandfather. I don't know what to tell them, they just came here. Will you talk to him somehow? You have a talent for diplomatic refusal." He said, scratching his chin, and she laughed under her breath.

"I'll listen to what he has to say and then politely refuse him. If he say anything interesting, I'll pass it on to my father myself, maybe then he'll take it better." She said lightly and her brother nodded, patting her on the back and said he would replace her.

She stepped out from behind the counter and that's when she spotted him, standing in front of one of their shop windows, watching her vigilantly from the side.

"Come with me." She said softly and heard him move behind her with an unhurried step.

She led him into the dark room she had prepared for him earlier and made him realise that whatever he had to say to her father, he would have to pass it on to her first.

He looked at her from across the room like a predator, frowning his eyebrows, clearly not expecting this turn of events. She could see that he was thinking about something strenuously, saw his tongue involuntarily hit the inside wall of his cheek.

"We'll talk on my terms." He said coolly, and she tensed all over feeling that he was not happy with what he had just heard. She thought he was going to tell her that he wouldn't talk about business and such big contracts with a child.

"Tonight at 7 p.m. You, me, wine and a hotel restaurant."

She felt her lips part involuntarily, her heart stopping for a moment. She blinked, wanting to see something in his face that would tell her he was joking.

What?

She swallowed loudly feeling that she hadn't answered for too long, his gaze grew darker, he turned his face to the side, tightening his lips, impatient.

"I… yes, of course." She choked out finally, not knowing what else she could say. He looked at her again then.

"Mmm." It came out of his throat like a murmur, his lips curving for a second into what she could call a smirk of satisfaction. He turned and left without saying goodbye, closing the door behind him.

She was tired and sleepy after a full day on the stand; however, she also felt a strong rush of adrenaline at the thought that she was about to meet him. She opened the wardrobe in her hotel room, scratching her head, wondering strenuously what she should wear.

This wasn't a date, was it?

It was official meeting, but she wasn't prepared for such an occasion.

In the end her choice was a black suede fitted knee-length dress with a white collar and long sleeves, deciding it was the most elegant thing she had.

She decided to leave the blue ribbon in her hair, not wanting to look like she was going to a funeral, and took her pastel blue clutch bag with her, throwing her phone into it, not looking from the morning to see if she had received any messages.

She was afraid to look in there.

She walked down the stairs to the ground floor, heading for the hotel restaurant. She had no idea why but felt her legs shaking with stress. She turned up five minutes early and was pleased to find that he wasn't late either.

He was sitting at a two-person table arranged at the very end of the room, gazing out the window, his hand outstretched on the table moving restlessly. He was dressed in a black leather jacket, black Tshirt and black trousers.

She felt ashamed that she had dressed like a girl for the end of the school year, but it was too late to go back to change into something more lightweight. When she stopped in front of him he flinched suddenly and looked at her as if frightened. He stood up and they both looked at each other uncertainly, not knowing how they should greet each other.

She thought that she certainly couldn't embrace him, however, as a woman, she had to offer something else. She held out her hand to him and he swallowed loudly before shaking it, his hand was large and warm. She sat down opposite him, putting her clutch bag aside, smiling at him, trying to hide how stressed she was. She saw his gaze escape to the side, raised his hand and nodded towards the waiter.

After a moment a young men, not much older than her, approached them asking what they wanted to order. She was silent for a moment and then saw that Targaryen was looking at her expectantly, clearly wanting to hear what she wanted to drink. She leaned quickly over the card and glanced at him uncertainly.

"Red semi-sweet wine?" She asked more than stated, and he nodded.

"We'll have the whole bottle, please." He added, and she swallowed loudly, wondering how long this conversation was going to be and why.

Was he trying to tire her out and muddle her so that she would eventually succumb and accept his terms on behalf of her father?

She twisted uneasily in her seat at the thought, sensing that he was watching her closely and feeling like he could see her cheeks burning.

"Why did your father refuse to speak to me in person?" He asked abruptly. She looked up at him and grunted quietly, rubbing her palms against her knees in an attempt to calm herself.

She had no intention of lying to him.

"My father doesn't want to tie himself to you for a monopoly on supplies. He wants a free hand in this." She said, looking bravely into his face. His gaze was so intense that she felt a tightening in her pit. He tapped his finger on the table top involuntarily, as if he was thinking about something.

"It's a condition for such good prices. We can change them, but then the prices will also go up." He said coolly, and she pressed her lips together.

"That's why in his opinion it doesn't make sense. Why should he engage with you if at the end of the day you will offer him the same prices as the others, and you will be more demanding and restrict him more?" She asked and shuddered as the waiter placed a glass in front of her and then in front of him.

She fell silent as she waited patiently for the boy to pour them some wine and smiled as she saw his hands tremble, she thought he had worked here for a short time. She shuddered and moved away when a few drops fell on the tablecloth right next to her clutch bag, Targaryen gave him a warning look.

"I'm very, very sorry." The boy said, and she and he reached for a napkin, but she was quicker and applied it quickly to the stain, looking at him with a smile.

"Nothing happened, thank you very much." She said softly. He nodded and apologised a few more times before walking away, taking the dirty handkerchief from her.

She glanced at her companion, he was sitting leaning casually against the back of the chair watching her closely with the same gaze she had seen on their show.

"What do you mean by 'restricted'?" He alluded to her earlier statement as if something about it frustrated him. She swallowed loudly at the thought, wondering how to explain it to him so as not to offend him.

"My father values freedom of action. Also the choice of materials to work with. He now works with who he wants and decides for himself what is best for him. He fears that your company, with lawyers deliberating over every comma in the contract, will arrange it so as to influence his decisions as much as possible." She said finally, saw that he furrowed his brow at her words.

"You think we're going to try to trick your father?" He asked with a note of irritation, and she threw him an impatient look.

"Can I trust you?" She asked suddenly and saw that he froze, his lips slightly parted. He clenched his jaw and began to play with his fingers extended on the armrest.

Silence.

"What do you mean?" He asked cautiously, she could feel her heart pounding. She sighed quietly, not taking her eyes off him.

"I mean exactly what I asked. Can I trust you?" She repeated, looking at him pleadingly, simply wanting to hear that he meant well and understood what she was saying. His lips twitched impassively.

"No."

She looked at him and blinked rapidly, unable to believe he had said that.

No?

So what was the point of this conversation?

"You can't trust me, just as I can't trust you. You will protect your father's interests and I will protect mine. There is no friendship in business or holding hands in the sunset light." He said dryly and lowly, looking at her as if he thought she was out of her mind.

She furrowed her brow, feeling humiliation spread across her face, felt a burning sensation under her eyelids, but did not allow herself to show anything more.

"I didn't know that to trust someone you had to be able to be friends and hold hands. I thought it was enough to be a decent human being." She said in pain and for the first time she saw something twitch in his face, as if an electric current had passed through him, his hand clenched into a fist.

She reached for her glass and took a deep sip from it, feeling the dryness in her throat, her heart pounding like mad. She saw him turn his face away, running his hand over his chin, impatient, apparently trying to calm himself down internally. He, too, took his glass and took a deep sip from it, setting it down with a loud clink of glass.

"I'm not a decent person." He said finally, and she felt a tightening in her throat, as if he had slapped her.

Why did she feel around him like she did around Cregan when he broke up with her?

"Nevertheless, I have with me the terms and conditions of our company written down on paper, without paragraphs written in small print. You can look them over and determine whether you want to pass them on to your father or not." He said a little softer, biting his lower lip.

"We can't be together, I'm not ready, I want to have some fun. But we can be friends, I want to know what's going on with you, I miss you."

She felt tears running down her cheeks in embarrassment, her lower lip trembling involuntarily at the same feeling of humiliation.

She saw his healthy eye widen in shock, his lips parted. He swallowed loudly, looking at her in disbelief, and wanted to say something clearly, but they both flinched when her phone began to vibrate in her clutch bag.

She wiped her cheeks quickly, wondering what she had actually been doing, and with a trembling hand opened her purse, thinking it was her father or Royce looking for her. She felt a tightening in her stomach and turned pale when she saw that she had four new messages from Cregan and three missed calls from him, including one incoming.

The phone vibrated in her hand and she didn't know what to do, so she dismissed the call, slipping it quickly back into her bag. Targaryen looked at her as if he thought she was about to faint.

"… Are you all right?" He choked out finally, clearly horrified by her condition.

"No." She mumbled at the same time bursting out laughing, making an essentially pathetic mixture of it, grabbing the bottle standing next to her and pouring herself a full glass of wine, struggling to hold back the tears that were once again pushing their way into her eyes.

She drew in a loud breath and took a large sip, setting the glass down, looking at her hands, trying to calm herself.

She saw that he moved uncomfortably in his seat, swallowing loudly, his fingers rubbing together quickly in a sign of his anxiety. She looked at him surprised when, after a long moment, he suddenly leaned forward, took a bottle of wine from her side of the table and poured himself a full glass, as did she.

For a while they sat and drank in silence.

She felt embarrassment at the thought that she had taken it out on him for what Cregan was doing to her.

Whoever Aemond Targaryen was at least he did not lie and tried to be honest when she accused him of false intentions towards her father.

He had said nothing for which she had any right to condemn him.

She swallowed quietly at the thought and looked at him.

"I'm sorry. Thank you for your honesty. Can I have these documents?" She asked in a slightly hoarse voice.

He looked at her for a moment surprised, then nodded and reached for the folder lying next to him on the windowsill. He leaned towards her handing it to her.

She took it from him and saw that he had placed his elbows on the table, remained bent over, being closer to her. She smelled the scent of his perfume and aftershave, a pleasant, intense, masculine smell that made her head spin.

"Go over it calmly. You don't have to rush. My grandfather really cares about this and is willing to wait and read your version of the agreement if you want to present us with one." He said in a slightly softer, calmer tone, and she smiled gratefully at him and nodded.

"All right. Thank you." She said and squeezed her eyes shut as she heard her phone vibrate again.

She took it out and turned the sound off, putting it back in her purse. She saw that he was looking in that direction, involuntarily running his tongue over his lower lip.

"Someone doesn't understand the word 'no'?" He asked suddenly, and she looked at him surprised, not expecting him to dare ask anything private.

She could see that he too was surprised that the question had escaped his throat and swallowed loudly, waiting to see if she would answer him.

She lowered her gaze, embarrassed, not knowing how she would explain her situation without going into detail.

"In a way." She said finally, grabbing for her glass again, feeling that at the moment the one thing that could calm her down was alcohol.

"Mmm." Came out of his throat, he lowered his gaze for a moment, as if thoughtful. He reached for his glass and also took a sip of wine from it.

"Let's move to my room." He said suddenly, throwing her an intense, anxious look, and she felt a shiver pass through her.

Not a proposal, not a question.

A statement.

What was he planning?

She swallowed loudly.

What if he did something to her?

What if he hurt her?

It seemed to her that he saw all these questions on her face, because he pressed his lips together, playing with his glass in his hand.

"We can think together about what to answer to a man who won't let you alone." He suggested, lifting his gaze to her again, a challenge in his eye.

She swallowed loudly, playing nervously with her fingers resting in her lap, her heart pounding hard like crazy, the alcohol slowly humming in her head.

Have some fun, she heard her brother's voice in her head.

"All right."

_____

Taglist 1

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @tempt-ress @ahristata @menaosama @queenofshinigamis @dark-night-sky-99 @kate-to-the-ki

[drainthehero]

Superboy and the Pink K, Ch 2

In the weeks following the incident with the pink Kryptonite, Superboy threw himself into his crime fighting activities. He would try to tell himself that the frenzy of effort was about making his town a safer place, but he could not dispel the gnawing emotions which raged within him following that humiliating encounter.

The young hero also told himself that his relocation to the booming city of Metropolis was to finally confront a new level of criminal element, but in truth he had been hounded by images from that day which could now never be fully erased. Every time someone in the town talked to him in his tight fitting costume he would assume they were imagining his diminutive cock beneath those skimpy red briefs.

Metropolis offered him a wonderful chance to be appreciated by a new sea of people that he was charged to protect. And the opportunities to be admired were plentiful. Having prevented bank robberies, car jackings, jewellery thefts and artefact heists, the Boy of Steel had quickly gained the adoration of the city.

One clear morning Superboy was flying over the city as he tuned his super powered senses toward any crimes underway. Quickly picking up on something he flew down to confront two thugs as they attempted to mug a well-dressed couple in a quiet laneway. The Teen of Steel landed and faced the thugs, blocking their access to protect the pair, hearing a sigh of relief from behind.

A wry smile lit the face of the handsome hero as he shook his head and raised an eyebrow. “Those guns are not going to do you any good against me.” Superboy folded his arms as he spoke, flexing his big biceps and puffing out his powerfully muscled chest as he cast a derisive glare at the weapons. “You should just put them down and come quietly.”

Not to be dissuaded the two thugs opened fire on the handsome young hero who just stood stoically as the bullets fell to the ground in front of his red boots. Superboy reached forward in a smooth motion and took a weapon in each hand, crushing them effortlessly with one hand.

The two thugs watched in disbelief as the superpowered teenager disintegrated their weapons, then rushed at him in a vain attempt to overpower him. Superboy merely grabbed each around the waist and picked them up in his powerful arms, before flying them off to the closest police station. As he deposited the two he wasted no time in returning to his rounds of the city.

Flying towards a new disturbance, the Boy of Steel landed in an abandoned warehouse where he discovered crates of drugs being unloaded for distribution. Superboy decided to make an entrance, causing the force of his landing to make a small sonic shock which grabbed the attention of the criminals, causing them to stop in their tracks.

The men were in a ragged semi-circle around him. “This criminal scheme of yours stops now, I won’t allow these drugs to be sold here in Metropolis.” As he addressed the group of men, he assumed his heroic hands-on-hips pose, flexing the impressive muscles which were barely concealed by his skin tight costume.

One man – likely the leader of this gang – stepped forward with his hands stretched forward in supplication. “Ahh. The one they call Superboy – so you are real then.” The Boy of Steel held his ground firmly and continued to look imposing at the leader. “Surely we can come to some kind of arrangement,” he had the gleam of a negotiator in his eye, “so you can look the other way.”

“The only arrangement we will be making today is for you - and all these drugs - to be handed over to the authorities.”

The leader shook his head slowly, “We outnumber you 8 to 1 kid. And I don’t think you have any weapons or tricks hidden in those skimpy tights of yours.” Superboy bristled at the disrespect to his classic costume. “So why don’t you leave us alone before we have to mash up your pretty face.”

“I had hoped to not need to show you my abilities in person, but it seems you would like this the hard way.” Even before he had finished speaking the group of men was rushing toward him with fists and weapons brandished. Not wanting to cause too much harm, the Boy of Steel easily disarmed them and bound them up with various pieces of steel from the warehouse.

Clapping his hands before him as he observed the subdued villains, Superboy called out, “Ok we’ve had our fun. Now it’s time for us to…” the voice of the young hero faltered as he felt his concentration wavering, unable to focus on what he had been saying.

His mind rapidly clouded over and no matter how much he shook his head to clear his thoughts, the thick fog would not lift. To make matters worse he could feel a strangely familiar heat spreading across his body.

The gang leader stepped around and into the view of the Boy of Steel, holding a necklace before the handsome but slackened face of the young hero. Superboy struggled to even focus his vision on the glowing pink gem attached to the necklace, but found himself starting to run his hands over his spandex covered muscles. “Ughhhh,” he moaned as he shook his head weakly. “No… no… not that.”

“Of course you remember this, Superboy?” said the criminal with mock dripping in his voice. As he continued to speak he placed the necklace over the head of the immobilised young hero and let it rest around his neck, with the gem hanging inside the iconic yellow S covering his chest. “You were exposed to this from the moment you interrupted us, so by now I presume the effects are running rampant across that sexy muscled body of yours.” As the pendant came to rest on the boy’s muscular chest, he let out a whimpering sigh which was accompanied by a pained expression on his handsome features.

“Now. Stop touching yourself, Superboy.” When he did not immediately comply, the leader placed one hand firmly on the thick muscled pectoral of the young hero, causing an immediate whimper from the very aroused Teen of Steel. As the hand was withdrawn Superboy gave a small whine and looked up with eyes of a hurt puppy.

“Please…” he started but was immediately cut off.

“I said,” reiterated the criminal firmly. “Stop touching yourself.” Superboy immediately complied and forced his arms to his side and managed to focus his gaze on the hand, as it then resumed its position on his chest. “Good boy,” he continued. “Do as you are told and you will get more of this than you can handle. Now put your hands on your head and flex your biceps, Superboy.”

A look of longing had settled on the beautiful young face of the hero and he nodded, “yes sir.” The Boy of Steel complied without hesitation, forcing his big biceps to harden beneath the bright blue spandex, and was then rewarded with the other hand feeling a bicep before the criminal leaned in to kiss the young hero, who returned the passionate kiss eagerly.

After the kiss was finished both hands were removed from the Teen of Steel, who once more looked like a hurt puppy.

“Aww, look at those big sad blue eyes,” commented the leader. “Do you want some more worship, Superboy?” was met with an emphatic nodding of the head. “Good boy, now free my men so they can get back to work.”

In a blue and red blur of movement, Superboy freed all of the men before resuming his position with hands on his head.

“Collins and Masters,” barked the leader. “Over here and get to work like we practiced. The rest of you continue to load those crates.”

As the thugs returned to their tasks, two young men moved to stand in front of Superboy and then slowly removed their clothing, each revealing a duplicate costume of the super powered teen beneath their outer clothes. Both men had amazingly ripped physiques which were easily bigger than the Boy of Steel, who was mesmerised by the beauty of the costumed muscle hunks which were god-like copies of himself.

At a nod, the two men sandwiched the young hero, pressing their spandex clad muscles firmly against him before running their hands over his biceps and body. Finally, one boy locked his lips onto the Boy of Steel for a deep and passionate kiss while the other sucked on the sensitive neck of the hapless hero.

For his part, Superboy was completely lost to the bliss of this muscle orgy, moaning and writhing uncontrollably. The leader simply stood back and enjoyed the spectacle as it unfolded, his hard cock visibly outlined beneath his tight denim jeans.

“Are you enjoying them Superboy?” The only response was a gurgled moan through the kiss which had not yet been broken. The young men had been hand picked for their attributes by the leader, believing that their superior muscles would evoke even more submissiveness from the musclebound Teen of Steel. “Good. Phase two.”

Collins broke the kiss and took a step back from the young superhero, leaving Masters to run his hands freely over the muscled body. Collins then proceeded to flex and pose his huge muscles, causing Superboy to gaze and moan with undisguised lust.

“Do you like his muscles Superboy? Doesn’t the costume show them off nicely?” Superboy nodded enthusiastically. “I think he might have even bigger muscles than you, Boy of Steel.”

A confused look crossed his face as he absently nodded in agreement, continuing to watch the flexing. “May I please feel his muscles, Sir?”

“Good manners, my boy, but first we need to compare your muscles.”

Standing across from each other both young men proceeded to flex their muscles as the measurements were read out by Masters. As each number was announced and it was clear that Collins had bigger muscles than Superboy across the board, the mind of the poor hero was overwhelmed by his inadequacy and the ongoing lack of touch from either of the muscled hunks.

As the last measurement was confirmed, Superboy looked up in defeat. “He is truly bigger than me, Sir. He fits that costume even better than me.”

During the process all the boys maintained rock hard boners, which continued to drive Superboy crazy with lust, as precum stained the bright red briefs of his costume.

“He does indeed Superboy,” agreed the leader in thought. “Maybe it is you who should be doing the worshipping?”

“Yes please, Sir. Command me and it shall be so.”

“In good time. But we have not yet finished. I did say all muscles didn’t I?” he said as he let his eyes drift lazily down to the precum stained red pouch and its contents.

Superboy immediately felt his cheeks burn red with shame. “Ah… every… muscle?”

“Of course, and it looks to me as though you are all ready to be measured. Let’s whip them out, but I will help you with yours Superboy as your hands must remain where they are.”

As Superboy moaned a protest to the imminent humiliation, Collins and Masters immediately undid their bright yellow belts and pulled their hard cocks out of their briefs, displaying their monstrous meats.

Meanwhile, the leader moved over to the young hero and carefully removed the yellow belt. Ignoring the poor heroes please of, “please sir, don’t,” he lowered the red briefs and reached his hand inside to free the shaft and balls from their confinement. The Teen of Steel was torn by conflicting emotions as the shame of his diminutive member was clearly put on display while he was massively turned on by his hard little cock being touched and played with. “Ughhhh, your hand feels so good sir.”

“My, my, Superboy. From here it looks as though my boys might have you beaten for this muscle too.” He positioned Collins so that his big 9” cock engulfed the small cock of the hero. “What do you think? Shall we measure them?”

Superboy gulped and shook his head, feeling his cheeks burn an even brighter shade of red. “Please don’t,” he implored. “My little dick is so tiny, Sir. I can’t even see it under that monster cock.”

Despite the protests by the Boy of Steel, the measuring tape was quickly deployed and read out. “8.5 inches for Masters, 9.5 inches for Collins and…” a dramatic pause while the tape was held once more alongside the hard shaft, “4 inches for the … Rod of Steel.”

“That is pretty clear Superboy, all of your muscles are inferior to those of my Supermen.”

The defeated and humiliated hero hung his head in shame. “It is true, Sir. They are superior to me in every way, and even look better in my costume. Please, sir, may I touch and worship them?”

At that query, Collins brought his arms up and flexed all of his huge muscles through the spandex, eliciting a whimper from Superboy. “Please Sir, I will do anything you ask.”

“Alright, I will consider your offer while you worship the true super muscled body here.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Without pause, and with his small cock still on display and leaking precum, the Boy of Steel proceeded to feel, kiss and lick all over the flexing form of the hunky criminal. “Please Sir, may I cum? My cock is so hard and my balls are so full.”

“You mean your pathetic little cock?” corrected the leader. “You are not permitted to stroke yourself. Ask the real Supermen if they would like to help you cum.”

“Yes Sir,” replied Superboy, shame dripping from his voice as he corrected himself. “My pathetic little cock is so hard and throbbing. Please,” he directed at Collins and Masters, “would you stroke my pathetic little cock so I can cum?”

Collins gave a disgusted look as he replied. “Do you see our cocks, Superboy? Wrap your hands around them.” The young hero complied, letting out guttural moans as he felt the girthy shafts. “Good boy. Now, tell me, why would we want to touch your tiny little rod when we have these big shafts to properly fill our hands?”

A few tears of shame rolled down the handsome face of the young hero as he slowly stroked the two big cocks and replied, “you wouldn’t, Sir. They feel so good to hold.” A spark of initiative flashed across his eyes as he stroked the big members. “May I make you cum then, Sirs?”

“Soon Superboy,” interjected the leader. “But first, you promised me a favour and it is time for you to deliver.”

“Of course, Sir,” replied the honourable young hero. “Anything if I can worship these Supermen.”

A strengthened alloy dildo was lifted out of a wooden box, causing the eyes of the young hero to widen with apprehension as he gulped and took in its meaning.

“Given the inferior nature of your muscles compared to my own Supermen, you are the logical one to have your super ass fucked like a good submissive boy.”

The conflict was clear on the handsome face of the Teen of Steel. But even as he considered the request, he continued to feel the muscles of the spandex clad “Supermen”, feeling his need for release grow even further. “And when,” he ventured, “I am wearing these. Please will you permit me to stroke your Supermen to cum?” The lust was clearly evident as Superboy continued to feel the magnificent muscled bodies.

“Of course, Superboy,” came the response. “A deal is a deal, and the big cocks of my Supermen deserve to blow their loads after all.”

“Oh god,” moaned Superboy as the criminals continued to flex and pose under his touch, also touching the muscles of the teen hero to increase his arousal and desperation. “God, yes please do it. I need to stroke these huge cocks and watch them blow.”

The big dildo was affixed to a bolt in the floor as the iconic red briefs were lowered, exposing his smooth bubble butt.

“Good boy, my handsome hero. Spread your legs and lets get this dildo into you so it is nice and tight.” Superboy spread his legs wide as the leader took a large amount of lubricant in his hand then leaned in for another passionate kiss as he ventured a finger down to cover the tight smooth hole in lubricant. The contact and intimacy caused the hero to moan and shudder as erotic convulsions wracked across his muscled frame.

“Oh god, Sir. Your finger feels so good on my ass.”

Liberal amounts of lubricant were then applied to the domed head of the dildo and Superboy used his power of flight to hover above it with legs spread wide before lowering himself onto the reinforced alloy shaft, moaning from the pain as his tight virgin hole was penetrated for the first time. The alloy shuddered from the force of the tight Hole of Steel, so the leader wrapped his hands around the balls and shaft as he whispered, “relax, Superboy.” He very lightly massaged the head, careful not to make the Teen hero blow his load. “Don’t fight it, just relax your body and let it glide inside of you.”

Superboy let out a relaxed sigh which was immediately followed by a cry of pain as he sank a few inches down and felt the dildo enter his virgin hole. The Supermen continued to worship the muscular hero, while pushing down on his shoulders to drive him further down and deeper onto the shaft, until finally 7 inches of metal were buried deep in the ass and guts of the Boy of Steel.

“Well done, Superboy,” congratulated the leader. “How does that feel inside you?”

“Arghhh,” groaned the hero, continuing to drive himself all the way down the shaft until he sat on the ground. “It hurts so much, like my ass is being torn open. But it also feels good to be doing this for you, Sir, and for your hand to be on my little Rod of Steel.”

“Now you may stroke my real Supermen and make them cum.”

“Ughhh, thank you sir,” groaned Superboy in bliss. The two muscle studs moved up to point their big hard cocks directly at the Boy of Steel, who realised that they would empty their load over his chest and stomach.

Eagerly taking a cock in each hand, Superboy enjoyed the sensation of the full girth in his hands and started to stroke with earnest.

“Oh sir, it feels so great to hold and stroke real cocks. They make my hands feels so small!”

The two Supermen flexed their bodes for the visual enjoyment of Superboy, also reaching forward and running their free hands over his muscles, causing Superboy to moan and leak even more precum from his rock hard little boner.

As he continued to enjoy himself, it became clear that Superboy was even raising and lowering himself on the dildo, clearly liking the feeling of the metal alloy fucking his ass. For their part, Collins and Masters were lost in the sensation of being jerked by the sexy young hero and were clearly approaching climax.

The leader positioned himself behind the Boy of Steel and added his own roaming hands, whispering into his ear. “Such a good boy, hero. Ass filled and jerking two cocks.” Superboy merely moaned in ecstasy and continued to pump the two big cocks.

The two Supermen both moaned they were about to cum. Moments later, thick jets of cum erupted powerfully from the two studs, lashing the Boy of Steel with multiple blasts of jizz. He felt the heat of the juice as it landed on his chin, chest and stomach and continued to milk the cocks while the two men moaned.

In a frenzy of lustful need, Superboy drove himself deeper still onto the dildo and without any warning felt his own hands-free climax hit. He shouted in joy as large gobs of superpowered cum shot from his cock to fly over the heads of the muscled studs and land far off in the distance. The glow from the synthetic pink kryptonite faded and it once more became a dull lifeless rock.

The leader quickly took in the unexpected turn of events and realised it was time to go. Signalling to all his men they rapidly dropped everything and made a hasty escape. While the poor Boy of Steel merely continued to sit impaled on the alloy dildo as his small and soft shaft dribbled cum.

When the pink K haze finally lifted, Superboy found himself alone, covered in cum and still impaled by the big dildo. Groaning, he exercised his power of flight and lifted himself off slowly, confused by an unexpectedly enjoyable sensation as the dildo pulled out of him.

He grabbed at the pendant swinging from his neck but noticed that it was no longer glowing. With a quick nod of decision, Superboy grabbed both the pendant and the alloy dildo and flew off to clean himself up.

[luvingspence]

𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙘’𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙞𝙙

a/n: sorry if this isn’t ur cup of tea <333 also idc if any of this is out of character my little brain says it’s all correct!

♡ i think he’s the secret (not so secret tbh) hopeless romantic of the BAU!! he spent so long alone, none of his relationships have lasted long due to reasons beyond his control, he just longs for love and a love that’s reciprocated fully.

♡ any partner he has would be his everything, especially once it’s become serious and more long term, once that relationship is set in stone he becomes even cuter and a lil bit cheesy <3

♡ weekly date nights!!!! it’s never on a set night because you both know how the BAU can be, but at least once a week, you commit a whole day to spending it with each other

♡ spencer’s a home body so it usually is just staying in, movies, board games, reading, cuddling and talking, although, when you do go out, it’s always to a museum or something of the sort!

♡ oh and imagine those little blind book dates that you can buy at book shops :( that definitely happens at least once or twice!!

♡ constantly whispering little facts in your ears!!!

♡ he’s a guy that likes older things and things that have character! you both definitely go to flea markets, farmers markets, and vintage shops together, even if it’s just for a browse

♡ definitely insecure. he thinks you’ll leave, or that you want to but you feel bad. i imagine he eventually (mostly) gets over this fear once it’s communicated and the relationship blossoms more but he definitely requires reassurance in the early stages :(

♡ but it’s ok he just worries bc he loves you!!!

♡ he finally has someone to spend halloween with :( if you go out with the BAU and they do costumes? you’re 100% matching idc. if you’re staying in?? you probably watch a few movies, a few older ones for spencer, and then your more modern picks!!

♡ and if you celebrate it? christmas too. just wear a matching ugly grandpa christmas sweater with him please.

♡ seeing him in his glasses!! he definitely wears them more at home and you just think he’s such a cutie patootie🥰

♡ teaching him stuff about pop culture!!!! somethings about pop culture, when explained right, i think would really interest spencer! but even if it didn’t, he‘d listen to anything you tell him, like explaining the taylor swift folklore love triangle!

♡ anything you are remotely interested in, he’s learning all about it! he knows what it’s like to feel left out and doesn’t want that for you, so he wants you to be able to talk about the things you enjoy even if it isn’t something he’d typically enjoy :(

♡ also! always! compliments! you!

♡ “you look really pretty😊” “i like that dress!” “well done!!!” “i’m proud of you🙂” “you’re the prettiest ______ in the world”

♡ he’s not great with compliments, giving or receiving, at the start, especially if we’re talking baby spence, but as soon as he realises it’s not overwhelming you or anything, you’ll have to physically shut his mouth to get him to stop

♡ very blushy and easily flustered!!! especially baby spence, older spence becomes smoother and can definitely be the one making you flustered though <3

♡ when it comes to gifts, unless it’s something you have asked for or he knows that you 100% want, he gets you things that are more sentimental or hard to come buy, like a vintage vinyl, engraved jewellery, books, collections of poetry, and anything similar!

♡ affection wise, once he becomes comfortable he’s definitely okay with a kiss on the cheek in public, an arm around your waist or shoulder, a quick hug, sitting close, but everything else is absolutely private (as it should be bc some couples r nasty)

♡ his major flaw i would think is that due to his intelligence, he’s a fixer and thinks he’s right. and when he thinks he’s right, he’s very stubborn. he’d rather fix your issues than listen (until you explicitly communicate that you just want him to listen and nothing else).

♡ i feel that he definitely apologises through cheesy things like flowers! however, if it’s something very serious, poor sensitive spencie definitely cries a little and asks for a hug :(

♡ over big arguments he’s just so scared that you’ll leave him, tell him it’ll be ok and that u still love him :(

♡ all around, he’s the prettiest, nerdiest angel bf ever and i love him

[zayray030]

Your favorite ship with ace and headcanons about it?

I'm such an indecisive bitch so I quite literally do not have a favourite ship. However I do know which shops I prefer and which ships I don't care for so we're doing ones that I prefer!!

Treyace! Trey enjoys having Ace sit on the counters when he's baking and anytime he's baking cookies he let's Ace eat the cookie dough

Catace! Constantly couple photos. In fact Cater takes them out to fancy places because Ace's eyes widening cutely and he flushes prettily and Cater can never have enough photos of his boyfriend being that gorgeous

Leoace! Leona let's Ace skip classes in his dorm so long as Ace let's Leona use his thighs as a pillow and doesn't speak so Ace can speak. Also Leona encourages Ace to grow out his hair and Leona loves running his fingers through it

Rugace! The two of them together would have the combined dental problem of the entire school lmao. Those two enjoy buying the other bakes goods and when the other isn't looking they'll steal a bite of each others food.

FloAce! Floyd enjoys carrying Ace in many different positions. Bridal, over his shoulder, piggyback, like a newborn, legit any way he can carry Ace is a win for him

JadAce! Jade pierced Ace's ear and used one of his gemstones to get Ace a custom little earring like his

Jamiace! They enjoy making little golden jewellery for each other!!

Vilace! Ace routinely bullies Bils more rabid fans who try and make fun of Ace. He bullies them by taking pictures of Vils hands wrapped around him and sending them saying: "could never be you"

RookAce!! They have their wierd stalker thing that people wanna question but don't. Also Rook enjoys buying Ace clothes and makeup

IdiAce!! Idia begs Ace to wear cosplay outfits for him. Ace has repeatedly been restrained by Ortho so he doesn't burn the costumes

Malace!! Malleus tries to make meals for Ace but always ends up burning them. He then ends up restoring to giving Ace ice cream

Liliace!! Lilis is Ace's sugar daddy and I refuse to take critism

[teal-fiend]

The New Hire

An assistant for a wealthy business owner is given the task of hiring a pred to perform at their party

Content: fatal vore, digestion, observer pov

—

The assistant had a party to plan. It was part of their job as a personal assistant to one of the most terrifying people in the world. Although their employer never did anything terribly illegal, the assistant had the feeling that there were dark things happening that even they didn’t know about. 

There were dark things that they did know about too. For example, their bosses' borderline obsession with predators.

Their boss had a kind of motif for the unconventional and disturbing. Their company crest was a serpent, which is already a devious animal. Instead of collecting valuable art, like a normal rich person, they purposefully bought forgeries that had been in museums and books for years before they were discovered. They bought houses where tragedies had taken place. And they loved finding old jewellery with no one left willing to inherit it. 

Despite, or maybe because they weren’t a predator, the boss effused about preds whenever the opportunity arose. Telling the assistant about famous people who were preds, or business associates who were. However, this was an avenue of themselves that had yet to be truly indulged. In fact, the boss had never hired one before, the assistant suspected they went out of their way to avoid it. Until today.

One of the things the assistant had to organise, was finding a predator to be at the party. This is how the boss phrased it: “I want you to find one who can keep down their prey, who can keep still for several hours. Maybe one who has experience as a figure painting model - I don’t know - I don’t really care, I know this was kind of last minute.”

It was last minute, it was the day-of.

“-But, just as long as you can find a predator who doesn’t have ‘stage fright’ or ‘performance anxiety’, someone moderately professional - that’s really all I need. You will pay them whatever they ask, of course. I know it’s a strange request, but it would really bring something to this party; there’s a few people I want to scare the shit out of, and this'll do it.”

The boss hired them for a reason: the assistant could get anyone, at any time, exactly where the boss wanted them. They had many, many feelers. And it didn’t take them long to get a bite. 

One of their scouts had found someone who was free that night, a pred, a masters student, broke and willing to take a sketchy job. But their LinkedIn looked reliable, and they worked at a local theatre. They played the donkey in a modern rendition of MidSummer Nights Dream... A perfect hire, really. They could probably handle some weird shit. 

The new hire was picked up and delivered to the event’s location on time (one of the bosses’ cursed apartments, a place where they specifically hosted parties). The assistant took the opportunity to formally debrief them.

“You will be dressed and prepared by our costume designers, and the hair and makeup team; we have a few other performers that you need to match - you’ll meet them soon. Your job after that is to consume the prey provided for you, you only have to eat one, and then you must begin digesting and continue until you are dismissed. The choreographer will guide you on how to compose yourself before you begin the performance. 

If you need a break, there’s a discreet button you can press, you will be able to go backstage for a short time, and someone will get you what you need.”

The pred looked overwhelmed, but eager to impress them. They nodded and said something, but the assistant was already busy with someone else. 

—

An enclosure was set up for the pred and a couple other performers to be contained in. The rest of them would be serving drinks, or performing other acts in separate areas across the venue. 

The enclosure was visible from most angles, almost in the centre of the room, although there was a backdoor that the performers could exit from. Inside was like a small, midas forest, with faberge-like flowers and funguses. It matched the decorations of the rest of the venue, except it was more dense and atmospheric. 

The enclosure was inaccessible to the audience, although there was no actual barrier, more of a circumference of props that would be impossible to navigate. The assistant had requested this, so that the view of the performance would not be obstructed.

Soon, the predator emerged, glittering under the moody, dappled lights. They had in contacts that made their eyes a solid, iridescent gold. On their back was a thin cape that looked like butterfly wings. On their head were some kind of horn or antler piece, decorated with primrose blooms. On their arms and legs were a metal lace, with a flowing transparent garment over top. 

The curves of their body, especially their now plump abdomen, was lined with the finest paint brush, of intricate, organic patterns. They looked like a bounty, the cornucopia, or a paegan god. Their prey visibly wriggled under their skin, trying in a futile attempt to escape the stomach acids that were just beginning to release. The movements of the meal made a strange optical illusion under the temporary tattoos, it glittered as it shifted in the dim lights. 

This was not the same person who came in two hours ago. Frazzled, mousy-haired, rectangle glasses, exceedingly average appearance. The person who the assistant was looking at really wasn’t a person at all. It moved, but it wasn’t a person. 

The assistant was impressed, to say the least. They’d have to give credit to the makeup department. Maybe even give them a raise. Maybe. 

They’d have to hear what their boss thought about this whole thing. Was it too much? Where was their boss anyway? 

The assistant suddenly got a sinking feeling. Had the predator they hired somehow eaten their boss? But no, just then, they appeared behind a crowd of people. Although it was early, it would only get more crowded later on. 

The assistant watched their reaction closely. Laughing at some joke, their boss turned to look at the stage. Their eyes went wide, but only for a second before they regained composure and guided their group forward to get a better look at the performance. 

---

The assistant stayed close to the predator for most of the night, this was not a time for them to network. And they also made sure two security guards stayed nearby, just in case any guests got carried away and tried to get in the enclosure. 

The other reason they stayed by, though, is to gauge reactions of the guests. Their boss couldn’t pay close attention to these things, but if the assistant gathered data, they would be able to tell how successful the idea was. 

There were mixed reactions. Some guests gawked like the pred was a zoo animal, trying to get a reaction from them, which thankfully was unsuccessful. The most the pred would do is stare at a party-goer, unspeaking, with their emotionless, ethereal golden eyes. The pred did it once to the assistant, a good, long stare, and it did send a shiver down their spine. It was a primal fear, being spotted by a predator, their belly obviously full of one of your fellow prey. But were they still hungry? Am I next? What was going on behind those eyes…? Even though the assistant of all people knew it was an act, they couldn’t help but endure those thoughts. 

Other guests let the assistant know that they thought it was obscene. A predator out in public, digesting a person alive, right in front of everyone? It was frankly unacceptable. And dressing them up didn’t make it any better. The assistant listened to these people sympathetically, but unfortunately for them, this was exactly the reaction that their boss wanted. 

The party went on and the pred laid down on a kind of mossy platform that the enclosure featured. They spread across it languidly on their side, belly resting heavily on the moss. They traced gentle patterns on it with a clawed fingertip, tracing the curves of the prey.

With a slightly sickening realisation, the assistant noticed the prey wasn’t struggling any more. They knew this was what happened when one put prey in the stomach of a predator, but they never had seen it happen in real time. They couldn’t help but feel a sense of injustice as the pred lay there smug, satisfied, petting at their engorged belly. 

The assistant shook the thought away. It’s what the boss wanted. What the boss wants, the boss gets. 

—

It was getting late, many guests had already left. The assistant looked for their employer, who wasn’t hard to find. 

“Boss,”

They were wearing all black, like an oil spill. 

“You’ve done well today,” they said, “I’m impressed, I’m inspired, I have so many ideas. Everyone was upset about it- it was great. And the predator…” they sighed. “Perfect. Maybe a little over the top with the costuming, but the idea came across perfectly.”

“Thank you.”

“They’re a keeper, don’t you think? I’d love to see them here again. In fact, let’s go over there right now.” The assistant was led back to the main room with the enclosure.

Another sinking feeling. The pred’s stomach was rounder, the curves that the pred had been tracing were faint if not non-existent. And now that the party had died down, the assistant could hear the stomach over the music growling, murmuring, with deep digestive gurgles. 

The boss clasped their hands together, “magnificent. Look at how far along they are already - what a brutally efficient stomach you have,” the boss said to the predator. 

The boss rarely complimented people. The pred rested a hand on their stomach, maybe self-consciously, and avoided looking at their audience. 

“They won’t acknowledge you,” the assistant reminded their boss, “by your request.”

“Oh I know.” the boss waved their hand, “and that is how I want it to be. More mysterious that way. People fear what they don’t understand, you know.”

—

After the party was over and the boss went home and to bed, the assistant still had work to do. Packing down, making sure everyone got paid. 

By the time they next saw the predator, they had reverted back to their former selves; wearing the clothes they arrived in, make up washed from their face (except for a faint gold smudge), and their eyes were brown and with pupils again. They looked tired. It was nearly 10am, they had been on location for over 12 hours by this point. Still, when they saw the assistant, they sat up straighter and anxiously waited to hear what they thought. 

The assistant looked down at the pred’s bloated stomach. They thought about warning them; They might not want to put up with the bosses’ antics. 

They should get out before it is too late. 

But then again, the boss wanted this pred, and what the boss wants, the boss gets. The assistant was the last person on the earth who would sabotage that.

So all they said was “well done,” and gave the pred an envelope with ten thousand dollars cash. They would be back.

[somecunttookmyurl]

right but. the fibre arts take way more time and practice and "talent" (which does not exist. talent is not a real thing. the myth of talent is fundamentally what stops people from trying to do things in the first place)

the disparity is the point. the whole, entire, complete point. there is no side point, additional point, or extra point. the disparity is what is weird.

all of this "ah but akshualllylylylylylyly" about the costs involved.......... do also apply to the other one. they apply to both. if anything every single "well actually" cost applies more to fibre arts. every. single. overhead cost including the time learning to do it is orders of magnitude lower for jewellery

i get paid £5 an hour for a skill that took me 10 years to develop and £165 an hour for costume jewellery i could have started selling the same day i picked up pliers. i only waited longer to build up stock.

if i went for an extremely reasonable labour rate of £25 an hour earrings would cost £1.25

but fine. double it for the nebulous talent that doesn't exist and the one (1) day i spent initially figuring it out.

pay me £50 an hour. i think we can all agree that's extremely generous, right? earrings are £2

neither £165/h or £5/h are sensible rates, and it's a laughably surreal disparity to have developed as the norm in mainstream society such that people will pay big chain stores barely more for a t-shirt than a charm on a string.

being a crafter is so weird because it's like. here's a necklace that between materials and minimum wage labour cost me £1 to make. you will happilly pay me £6 for it because the same thing in claire's is £15. here's a blanket that between materials and half minimum wage labour cost me £700 to make. you will tell me to fuck off because you can buy a blanket in a shop for £100.

[evansbby]

Hello, merry christmas to everyone who celebrate! ✨🤍

My question is how omega steve and rosie spend Christmas this year? What Santa will give to babygirl

and what Steve got Omega and Omega got Steve?

I hope you well 🩷

Awww thank you! Merry Christmas to all who celebrate! ✨✨✨✨

Steve, omega and Rosie spend Christmas at the big Rogers’ mansion with Steve’s parents! It is Rosie’s first Christmas so everyone dotes on her and she has a whole room full of presents! (Seriously, they have a gigantic tree but they couldn’t fit all of Rosie’s presents under it, so in one of the guest bedrooms, all the rest of Rosie’s gifts are stockpiled, filling the room to the brim).

Rosie is the centre of attention as omega and Steve and the grandparents all dote on her and take pictures of all her reactions! She receives a ton of baby toys, picture books, colouring books, dolls, playsets, clothes and more! Rosie is enjoying everything despite her being only about a year old. She even gets a life-sized doll house and a little Barbie car to drive around in! (She’s too small so she just sits inside and looks happy while Steve pushes her).

Omega is very happy to have such a lively Christmas atmosphere as she didn’t grow up with this sort of thing. It makes her emotional to see Rosie get all the love that omega did not get while growing up. She takes a dozen pictures of Rosie on her Polaroid camera (she’s dressed Rosie up in a cute red frock with white patterned leggings for her chubby legs and shiny black shoes!) and she adds them to her scrapbook “Rosie’s first Christmas” 🥹🥹🥹

As for omega’s gifts… well, Steve goes all out. There’s a second guest bedroom that’s stocked full of gifts for her too. Expensive clothes and jewellery, shoes, everything! He even hand paints a portrait of omega and Rosie and frames it and gives it to her and she loves that, she loves how Steve draws her. Steve’s mom gifts omega a solid gold bracelet that is a Rogers’ family heirloom that has been in the family for generations. Steve’s dad gifts her a monogrammed journal with her initials on it and some expensive pens. Omega has never felt so loved 🥹🥹

She gifts Steve a scarf she knitted for him all by herself. It’s become a tradition for her to do that and he loves it and puts it on straight away. She also buys him a new three piece suit because she has good taste and knows what will match his eyes best. She also gives him a special private gift in a special private costume 😌 and Steve loves that too. 🩷🩷🩷🩷🥹🥹🥹🥹

[yurisek]

Not So Berry Challange? Kinda

I stumbled upon lilsimsies Not So Berry Challange and I really wanted to try it out, since it's that time again when I'm getting bored of The Sims because I don't know what to do there. So I dedicated a few hours of my life to redoing this challange to my liking, and named it The Rainbow Challange (how original, right?). It has 10 generations, starting at the colour white and ending at the colour black. I have every pack, so I didn't really pay any mind to what packs I'm including. Also, I put likes, dislikes, turn-ons and turn-offs for every generation, but those are just details, really.

Basic rules: 1. Each heir must represent the colour of the generation (hair, clothes, their house..) coloured skin is not necessary 2. The colours of the spouses doesn't matter 3. You can live wherever you want in it isn't specified in the rules of a generation 4. Play on normal lifespan 5. Start the first (white) generation as a young adult sim 6. Occult sims are welcome :D

Generation one: White You're an angel, really. You're all about sticking to the rules, you have never done anything bad. You love socilaizing and helping others. Family and friends are everything to you.

Aspiration: Friend of the World (Popularity) Traits: Outgoing, Neat, Family-Oriented Career: Doctor Likes: White, Optimistic Sims, Classical Music Dislikes: Arguments, Ambitionless Sims, Programming Turn-ons: Family Motivated, Affection, White Clothes Turn-offs: Taken, Slacher, Messy

Rules: -Master the Doctor career and complete the Friend of the World aspiration -Master the charisma and logic skill -Marry a co-worker and have (at least) two kids with them

Generation two: Pink You were given lots of love your whole childhood, so now you're all about sharing it with others. In highschool you joined the cheer team/football team. Oh, and you're obsessed with your garden.

Aspiration: Romantic Explorer (Love) Traits: Generous, Romantic, Lovebug Career: Romance Consultant Likes: Pink, Romance Enthusiasts, Preppy Fashion Dislikes: Shabby Decor, Pranks, Horse Riding Turn-ons: Clean, WooHoo, Pink Clothes Turn-offs: Gift Giving, Egoistical, Enhineering

Rules: -Have at least five different partners throughout your life -Complete the Romantic Explorer aspiration

Generation three: Red You have been born a chef, honestly. You're all about food, you love going out to a restaurant ot something similar, you never say no to a sweet treat. You have a degree in Culinary Arts.

Aspiration: Master Chef (Food) Traits: Foodie, Snob, Ambitious Career: Food Critic Likes: Red, Cooking, Egoistical Sims Dislikes: Rascals, Singing, Acting Turn-ons: Culinary, Highly-Skilled, Red Clothes Turn-offs: Homebody, Costumes, Pessimistic

Rules: -Master the Food Critic career and complete the Master Chef aspiration -Master the cooking and mixology skill, have gourment cooking on at least level seven -Must play an instrument -Must live in another world than the one they were raised in

Generation four: Orange You're all about fame. You've been posting on social media ever since you were a teenager. You join a drama club as an afterschool activity and you continue to study drama in university. You want to become a well known celebrity.

Aspiration: World-Famous Celebrity (Popularity) Traits: Nosy, Self-Absorbed, Self-Assured Career: Actor Likes: Orange, Acting, Compliments Dislikes: Potty Humor, Basics Decor. Metal Music Turn-ons: Affection, Academics, Orange Clothes Turn-offs: Rocker, Broke, Argumentative

Rules: -Become a Global Superstar and have a tile on Starlight Boulevard -Move to Del Sol Valley -Have a pet named Judith -Have a vault at home -Have exactly three kids

Generation five: Yellow Relax. That's your life motto. It's all about relaxation. Why worry about something when you can just... meditate? You make crystal jewellery for a living and you love it. There's not a single room in your house without a crystal.

Aspiration: Inner Peace (Wellness) Traits: Practice Makes Perfect, Socially Awkward, Bookworm Career: Freelancer Likes: Yellow, Gemology, Wellness Dislikes: DJ Mixing, Mixology, Malicious Interactions Turn-ons: Nature Enthusiasts, Nature, Yellow Clothes Turn-offs: Polished, Drink Making, Media & Technology

Rules: -Master the gemology, wellness and athletic skill -Marry your high school sweetheart and stay with them until you die -Have a greenhouse -Must live in a 'needs TLC' apartment for entire young adult life

Generation six: Green You're the type of person to put money above anything else and everything else. You're a workoholic and love to brag about your wealth. Your house is full of the most expensive furniture, and you only wear polished clothing.

Aspiration: Fabulously Wealthy (Fortune) Traits: Materalistic, Art Lover, Squeamish Career: Business Likes: Green, Piano, Polished Fashion Dislikes: Basics Fashion, Baking, Romance Music Turn-ons: Gift Giving, Wealthy, Green Clothes Turn-offs: Broke, Culinary, Emotional Decision Makers

Rules: -Master the Fabulously Wealthy aspiration -Master the charisma skill, have at least level five in horse riding and at least level three in bowling -Have a gym and a theatre at home -Own at least ten knight statues -Have at least three pets

Generation seven: Blue You decided that you don't want to live the life your parents did, so you move out to Henford-on-Bagley and become a farmer. Your parents gave you some money to help you out, but that's the only money you accept from them. You're happy without the millions.

Aspiration: Outdoor Enthusiasts (Nature) Traits: Animal Enthusiast, Clumsy, Rancher Career: Gardener Likes: Blue, Knitting, Small Talk Dislikes: Cerebral Sims, Robotics, Skiing Turn-ons: Health & Sports, Pet Enthusiast, Blue Clothes Turn-offs: Performer, Spirited, Wealthy

Rules: -Miust attend scouts after school -Must go camping at leats five times in their life -Must move out onve they're a young adult -Master the gardening skill, have the flower arranging and the archeology skill on at least level five -Bring Patchy the Strawman to life

Generation eight: Purple You've been seeing things ever sicne you were a child, right? And no one belived you. So you started writing about it into your diary, and when you were old enough, you published a few books about the paranormal.

Aspiration: Bestselling Author (Creativity) Traits: Paranoind, Loner, Creative Career: Writer, Paranormal Investigator Likes: Purple, Photography, Gossip Dislikes: Complaints, Fishing, Rocket Science Turn-ons: Arts & Crafts, Sense of Humorm´m Purple Clothes Turn-offs: Romance Enthusiast, Gift Giving, Idealist

Rules: -Write at least fifteen books about the paranormal -Move out to Old Penelope in StrangeVille (don't change the lot to a purple one, keep it) -Master the writing and medium skill

Generation nine: Brown Isn't being good boring? Someone has to be th eone to cause mayhem. Would your parents or grandparents be proud of you? No, definitely not. But it's fun, being the different one. Oh yeah, you also have a degree in villany.

Aspiration: Public Enemy (Deviance) Traits: Evil, Vegetarian, Gloomy Career: Criminal Likes: Brown, Singing, Deception Dislikes: Discussing Interests, Optimistic Sims, Island Music Turn-ons: Wealthy, Argumentative, Brown Clothes Turn-offs: Baking, Painting, Horse Riding

Rules: -Master the Criminal career and complete the Public Enemy aspiration -Master the singing skill -Have twins (or just two children) - be good friends with both of them -Live in at least three different worlds over the course of your life

Generation ten: Black You have learned a lesson form your parent and decided that you want to be nothing like them. You get a degree in psychology and dedicare your life to doing the good and stopping the bad.

Aspiration: Renaissance Sim (Knowlage) Traits: Good, Proper, Loyal Career: Detective Likes: Black, Research & Debate, Stories Dislikes: Cosmolux Decor, Cross-stich, Strange Tunes Turn-ons: Career-Minded, Physical Intimacy, Black Clothes Turn-offs: Self-Employed, High Energy, Slacher

Rules: -Complete the Renaissance Sim aspiration -Must play the pipe organ -Adopt at least one child -Get married for the firsz time as an elder

Belive it or not, but it really did take me a few hours to write all of this down, so I just wanted to share it somewhere, where someone can perhaps use it as well. Happy Simming!

[cozcat]

Costuming the Amyrlin, part 2

For the sake of spoiler avoidance, this post is in two parts. Please read part 1 on Siuan's costuming as we've seen onscreen so far before reading this post!

At some point in the show, we are going to be seeing Siuan when she is no longer the Amyrlin, and we are going to see Egwene and Elaida as two very different Amyrlins. They have room to go in some very different directions with their costumes, and thus far, I think Siuan's costumes as Amyrlin really lend themselves to this. So this is my speculation, based on what they've done so far, and the elements of Siuan's costuming as they lend themselves to other characters, and how we can contrast them.

Siuan Sanche after the Tower

If you're reading this post, you're very aware that Siuan's time as Amyrlin is not going to last much longer - very scared, but very excited to see Sophie Okonedo absolutely kill it as we see that contrast between Siuan Sanche the Amyrlin Seat, Siuan the stilled runaway, and Siuan Sedai.

It seems a safe bet that Siuan's costumes after the coup will be a lot simpler and a lot more comfortable, and that'll continue in Salidar, not just as a runaway. Siuan on the run, as well as Siuan in Salidar, is Siuan with actual control and agency over the very simple thing of choosing what to wear. Or, as much control as you can have with little in the way of funds or resources. But I wouldn't be shocked if it's a one-way shift - even once the Tower reunites, Siuan will be in a position to have a lot more control over every element of herself, and sticking her in costumes that she would be more comfortable in is an easy visual cue to support whatever she says and does.

(As an aside: I hope Sharon knows that I'll be finding her for A Conversation if she takes cues from the way the books describe Siuan's costumes in Salidar and Tel'aran'rhiod. There are many things that happen in these books that should remain on the page and never grace our screens and a good chunk of that list pertains to Siuan. But anyway...)

Also: I would love it if we get Siuan with a protective hairstyle once she's out of the Tower. Please.

Elaida as Amyrlin

Elaida is going to be living for this. I have no doubt that Elaida's costumes will make Siuan's seem subdued. But how can that happen when Siuan's are already so ostentatious? Add more stuff. Make it tacky. Siuan's regalia, while ostentatious, is tasteful; Elaida is decidedly not. Elaida seems exactly the type to add gems, to add jewellery, to add colour - she wears a lot of red in the books, and if she continues to do so in the show, it will stand out even more after an Amyrlin whose clothing remained neutral. It's a very sharp visual contrast. Elaida is desperately clinging to power, to prestige, to the illusion of respect - I've no doubt that her costuming will reflect that.

I do still expect some continuity with Siuan's costumes, though, at least to start. The papal shapes, with huge swathes of fabric disguising the person underneath; the sheer amount of embroidery and other decoration, a clear display of how much time can be afforded for one garment to be worn by one person. But where Siuan's costumes were neutral, Elaida's will not be. Where Siuan's costumes were subtle (or as subtle as a queen-pope-leader role can allow), Elaida's will not be.

And by making Elaida be so overt in her show of power and resources, it will contrast spectacularly with Egwene in Salidar.

Egwene as Amyrlin

When Egwene is raised, Salidar will have no resources to make her look the Amyrlin in the way that Siuan looked the Amyrlin - they don't have the funds, they don't have the tailors, they don't have the fabric. I'm expecting this to be where the stole of the books to make its appearance - they cannot make Egwene look like she could stand next to a queen, but they can make her recognisable in her role with some strips of fabric.

But also: as I mentioned earlier, the olivey-gold colour that comes when you blend the seven colours of the Ajahs, that bears a striking resemblance to the gold of Siuan's costumes? I can see Egwene wearing that colour, in far simpler clothing. It would be a fairly subtle call-back to Siuan's costumes, dialling down in opposition to the way in which Elaida's will inevitably be dialled up. Egwene's costumes will take the colour, and make the clothing simpler; Elaida's will take the ostentation and the structure, and make it obnoxious.

And when she reunites the Tower, she may not end up in full regalia. Of course, she might, as it would symbolise the reunification, making it feel wholly formal. But I wouldn't be surprised if her regalia is plainer - she was the Amyrlin of a rebel faction, and she did not have the regalia of the position; she does not need it now, because there is no doubt of her role. She does not need to reinforce her position by showing her resources, and given what she has achieved without much at all, a lack of ostentation will lend her more credence than anything else. Egwene as Amyrlin ushers in a new age for the Tower - the vestments may be another thing that she discards with the old ways.

It's still early days - we've yet to see Siuan in season 2, and things may change, depending on the costumes we see her in. (I believe I heard mention of a travelling outfit in this video, and it sounds like it's referring to one we don't see, but I'm not sure.) However, with what they've done so far, I think they've set themselves up spectacularly to show both the change in Siuan over her arc, and the ways in which the Amyrlins that succeed her play their hands in their roles.

[justforbooks]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Carl died in 2015.

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

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