#lavender lace gloves

[devdas5z]

Katya Kotaro

[thewickedjazzy]

Bonus Level: Blood lust and Terror for Kinktober.

vampire!chuuya & ghost face!nikolai x afab!reader. -two drabbles-

ᡣ𐭩warnings: nsfw mdni, smut, blood kink, biting, marking up, possessive! chuuya, unhinged vamp! chuuya, bloody sex, slight knife play, shower sex, ghost face! nikolai, teasing, cum mentioned, unprotected sex, the list goes on and on ofc.

ᡣ𐭩word count:2.5k

ᡣ𐭩a/n: i know i'm late, sorry pookies, proofreading took longer than expected and I still think that I didn’t do it thoroughly, anyways! this bonus fic is for @chuuminn —chuuya's drabble & @violetfruity —nikolai's.

ᡣ𐭩-check Kink Coin to unlock bonus fics´-

1. [vampire! chuuya: bloodlust]:-

“you sure about this?”

chuuya stands at the edge of the bed, his chest heaving as he looks down at you, sprawled out so perfectly in the lavender lingerie that he adores. the soft fabric clings to your skin, drawing his eyes to every curve, every inch of you that’s his. he has never marked you with his fangs before, always so gentle and carefull not to press hard enough to draw blood but dazai’s words from earlier still echo in his mind, making his nerves boil with possessiveness.

you nod slowly, biting your lower lip as he throws his head back and takes a deep breath. he slips off his gloves, unbuttons his dress shirt and disregards the rest of his clothes, then crawls onto the bed, his knees sinking into the mattress as he leans over you, his hot breath grazing your neck so perfectly, anticipation pooling in your stomach. “i’ll show that asshole who ya belong to... i’ll mark every inch of you.”

your breath catches in your throat as his lips meet your skin, soft at first, teasing even, as he drags them from your neck down to your collarbone. his hand trails slowly over your side, fingers tracing the delicate lace that barely covers you, and you shudder beneath him, sweet whimpers slipping from your glossy lips.

“more..chuu-” you breathe, voice trembling as your fingers tangle in his fiery curls, tugging gently. he sucks gently at your skin, not biting—not yet. his mouth is warm, tongue flicking out to taste you as he moves lower, leaving a trail of wet heat across your chest. your body arches instinctively into his touch.

a low growl rumbles in his chest, vibrating against you as he pulls back just enough to admire the bruise forming on your skin. “I want him to see this,��� he murmurs, “i want that bastard to know that yer' mine.”

his hands slide lower, tracing the lines of your body, you let out a breathless moan as his thumb brushes over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

chuuya's red eyes glow— jealousy simmering just beneath the surface—as they lock onto yours for a moment longer before his fingers slip beneath the lace of your panties, pulling it aside with a sharp tug. the cool air hits your bare skin for a split second before he pushes his deliciously girthy cock into you with a breathless moan, lips trembles slightly as his head lolls back.

the stretch has you gasping, your nails digging into his shoulders as you struggle to catch your breath. he doesn’t ease into it, doesn’t give you the slow build you’re used to—no, this time it’s different. his hips snap forward with a force that makes your body shake beneath him, a soft cry falling from your lips.

for a vampire, you’re aware that he can go fast, but not this fast. it’s as if something has taken over him— obviously drunk by dazai’s taunt, and the need to prove something, to leave no doubt that you’re his. his fingers dig into your waist, holding you in place as he pounds into you. the sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, each thrust stealing the breath from your lungs.

“chuu—mngh.. slow down” you gasp, your voice breaking as your head falls back, exposing your neck to him. his gaze flickers to it, and for a moment, pace slowing down for a bit as his thrusts become more controlled, more intentional. he leans over you, breath brushing against your throat as he brushes his pretty lips across your skin.

“ready, doll?” his voice is almost raspy, and you can feel the sharp points of his fangs just barely grazing your neck.

“yes—please mmph” you whimper

he responds with a groan, his grip on your waist tightening, and with one final snap of his hips, he sinks his fangs into your flesh. the sharp sting makes your body jolt beneath him, a gasp caught in your throat as the heat from the bite spreads through you like wildfire. It's overwhelming—the sensation of him buried deep inside you while his fangs pierce your skin, claiming you in every way possible.

your nails rake down his back, your body arching into his as a rush of euphoria crashes over you. he growls against your neck, his fangs sinking deeper as he drinks from you, the pain and pleasure blur together, your senses completely consumed by him—his scent, his taste, the feel of him everywhere.

his pace slows, hips rolling languidly against you as he draws back, his lips brushing over the fresh bite mark now blooming on your neck, licking over it, to sooth the sting with his hot tongue, he pulls back to meet your gaze.

“mmph—there...” he murmurs, his voice rough, breathless. “only i get to see you like this... only I get to make you feel like this.”

chuuya lifts his fingers to your neck. and you feel the slick warmth of blood from the bite as he carefully smears it across your skin. he watches you intently, a smirk tugging at his lips, as he drags his fingers downwards, leaving a vivid crimson trail that leads to your stomach. and with slow precision, he begins to inscribe his name on your skin, branding you in a way no one could deny.

you catch a satisfied gleam in his eyes as he admires his handiwork, the sight of his name etched onto your skin, his gaze zeroes in on the bulge forming beneath the very letters he just traced on your stomach, a visceral reminder of how completely he’s claimed you. "f-fuck.. ahh, look at that," he pants, "every part of you belongs to me."

he leans over you again, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, the metallic taste of your blood mingles with his, creating a tantalising flavour that sends your senses into overdrive, making your brain momentarily short-circuit.

pulling back just enough to catch his breath while still pounding into you, “i fuckin’ love how you taste, doll~” he murmurs before grabbing your hips to bounce into you harder, “ffuck..ngh~ you’re worse than nicotine—s’pretty.”

2.[ghost face! nikolai: terror]:-

“ready or not, here I come, dove.” his voice echoes from the hallway.

you can hear the rustling outside, the faint sound of leaves brushing against each other, and your heart races inside your ribcage. 'it’s just a game, its just a game' you remind yourself, a thrilling night of hide and seek with nikolai. but tonight, the stakes are higher than ever.

you can hear him moving around the house, the light clatter of a knife against the wooden table as he pretends to search for you. the thrill of it all makes your pulse quicken.

you dart into the nearest room, quickly slipping into the bathroom and locking the door behind you. breathing heavily, you slide into the bathtub, pulling the shower curtain closed to shield yourself from view. you close your eyes, straining to hear any sign of him.

footsteps thud against the floor, echoing through the house. you can hear him getting closer, the way he purposefully scrapes the knife against objects, creating a haunting soundtrack to your little game. a giggle escapes your lips—this was all so exhilarating.

just as you think you might win, a chilling sound reaches your ears: the window creaking open. your breath catches in your throat. no, he wouldn’t dare. you peek through the thin fabric of the curtain, your heart pounding as you watch him slide effortlessly through the window, his ghost face mask obscuring his features but doing nothing to hide the playful glint in his eyes.

he lands silently on the porcelain floor, the knife held loosely in one hand as he scans the room. “oh sweet dove...where could you be?” he taunts, pulling back the curtains with a dramatic flair, revealing the empty bathtub. “hhmm, not here...”

but you can’t hold back a gasp of surprise, your heart racing as he turns, eyes narrowing in on you. “ah, there you are, my pretty dove,” he grins, a wicked smile spreading across his face as he strides towards the bathtub. “found you just in time.”

panic and excitement surge through you as he grips the edge of the bathtub, leaning in closer. “you know what that means, hmm?” he purrs, the knife now resting against your thigh, its cold steel sending tingles across your skin. “you’re mine now.”

in a swift motion, he puts the knife down on the counter. then, with a playful smirk, he removes his mask, revealing his handsome face—chiseled features framed by white tousled hair and piercing eyes that promises nothing but a good time.

he strips off his clothes first before his slender hands work deftly to undress you completely, trailing soft caresses along your skin as he strips away your clothes piece by piece, revealing your bare body to his hungry gaze.

he turns the shower on, the water spilling forth in a cascade of warmth, creating a sultry mist that envelops you both. he adjusts the temperature, ensuring it’s just right, then steps back to appreciate the sight of you standing there, water trickling down your body like liquid silk.

nikolai always takes his time to admire you, captivated by the way the water makes your bare skin glow under the soft moonlight streaming through the window. each droplet glistens like a jewel, accentuating your curves and casting a radiant sheen across your body. he can’t help but notice how your hair falls delicately over your shoulders, a few wet strands framing your pretty face, enhancing your beauty in a way that leaves him utterly breathless—you’re so beautiful, so undeniably exquisite.

“you look absolutely divine, my dove,” with that, he captures your lips in a heated kiss. the kind that makes your head spin. the thrill of the game shifts gears into something much hotter as he leans in closer, whispering, “time for your punishment—if you can handle it.”

you smirk, breathless against his lips. “punishment? is that what we’re calling this now?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

“only for the prettiest ones,” he replies with a cocky grin, his hands roaming your sides, tracing circles into the soft surface of your skin as the water cascades over the two of you.

with a sudden surge of strength, he lifts you effortlessly, and you gasp as he hoists you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. the world around you blurs, everything feels incredible—the warm water, the scent filling the air, your body fitting perfectly in his grasp as he squeezes your plushy ass. he presses you against the cool tiles of the shower wall, the contrasting sensations send a delicious tingle that dances across your skin.

he peaks over shoulder, staring down to your breasts. he licks his lips before leaning in to kiss along the swell of your breast. a pleased whimper echoes between your pink lips, and you shudder when he sucks hard at the sensitive skin.

he pulls back, resting his hard cock against your front, dragging it slowly down between your slick folds, teasing you until your breath breaks into shaky gasps.

his voice hums with pleasure, each whimper like a melody, as your skin feels so warm and impossibly smooth beneath him. the wetness coating your folds, making his precum glisten at the tip before the water washes it away.

“kyola—mmph please,” you whine.

but he doesn't listen only teases you further, brushing against your entrance but never quite pushing in, the need almost unbearable as he keeps you right on the brink. his lips curve into a sly grin against your skin as you plead.

“goddammit! kyola..fuck me please,” you plead, your voice breaking as you try to grind against him.

“so eager?” he murmurs, his breath like hot feathers brushing against your skin as he finally presses the tip of his cock against your entrance, but he still holds back, making you wait just a little longer for a bit.

he finally pushes in, keeping a slow, agonizing pace. the sensation rips through you, and a broken gasp escapes your throat. your walls clench around him, immediately welcoming him deeper as your head falls back, mouth open in a silent plea. the stretch is overwhelming, every inch of him filling you completely until you can't hold it back anymore.

"kyo—aagh~" his name tears from your lips, louder than you meant. he buries himself inside you and his grip tightens on your hips, steadying you as his cock sinks deep, he leans in to murmur filthy praises in your ear.

"there it is," he breathes,"that’s what i wanted to hear—ah yes keep clenching around me like this..hmm" he doesn't wait, pulling back only to thrust in again, harder this time, making your body arch against him.

each push driving you closer to the edge, your voice breaking as you scream his name again, this time louder—you can feel him everywhere, the slick heat between your legs driving him over the edge as he grunts against your neck, his control slipping. "ffuck—nnghh..you're perfect," he growls, picking up the pace as your moans grow louder, each sound only spurring him on.

you clung to him desperately, each upward thrust of his hips sending you bouncing on his thick cock. your nails dig down his back, leaving deep marks that he knew would form jagged red lines across his pale skin by morning.

you cry out as he keeps his relentless, punishing rhythm, your body shaking as you finally reach your release, tears rolling down your cheeks. he presses tender kisses against your damp skin, whimpering your name as he follows right after, his cock continues sliding in and out slowly, riding out the sweet waves of his own release.

he gently sets you down, wrapping his arms around you as your legs tremble beneath you. his cum mixed with yours slowly drips down between your thighs.

“we should definitely play these kinds of games again.” you chuckle.

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @alyszuha @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguro @writingandmusing

[ihugzminseo]

pairing : dom!julie x fem reader

cw : infidelity, unprotected piv (glove it b4 you shove it folks), dumbification, breeding, implied 3sum, voyeurism, g!p julie, natty is a littleee pervy, reader is called a good girl like once, aftercare included

word count : 1.5k (aftercare - 0.1k)

a/n : cheating bad but.. cheating okay when julie han!! (not really, cheating is NEVER okay!)

dom!jultty who share you for their pleasure! (pt. 1 of 2)

you and natty have been together for a while, and you’re both happy with each other. you spend time at the dorms, and you’re close with the girls. almost every weekend is spent with natty and the rest of the girls, at sleepovers or parties or restaurants and you all like it that way.

you consider the girls your best friends, but you especially love julie. she’s the most energetic out of the four, and she’s also such a considerate social butterfly. you love that about her, and if natty can’t make it to a weekend spent together, you aren’t bummed out because you know julie will be there with you.

you weren’t sure if there was chemistry between the two of you, but to you it seemed like there wasn’t. she was just sweet and jokingly flirty, or so you assumed. a few weeks ago, you’d had a sleepover like always and you decided to go and wear a new pajama set. they were lavender and satin, with white lace trim around the hemline and bottom of the shorts. all the girls thought you looked pretty, but julie wouldn’t take her eyes off of you.

every time you’d get up from the floor or couch, her eyes traveled from your face to your legs. she’d brushed her hand against your ass and thighs ‘accidentally’ but smirked and let out an intentionally sultry “my apologies, hun” each time. it wasn’t until the five of you decided to watch a movie that she really made moves. you were sat between julie and natty, which wasn’t abnormal. what was abnormal was julie’s hand snaking up your thigh, playing with the lace on your shorts and toying with the band of them.

you glanced over at her, and she flashed you that bunny smile before turning her head back to the tv like nothing had happened. you were thankful the five of you shared a big blanket, keeping julie’s ministrations under wraps. once the movie finished, you offered to fold the blanket up and put away the remaining snacks. natty protested, saying she didn’t mind helping, but julie was quick to agree to your idea and help you. as the other three girls headed upstairs, you and julie remained in the living room. the blanket was folded, and you bent over to clean up whatever snacks had been knocked down or fallen over.

julie was getting more flirty, hands grazing your body every chance she could get and a smile playing on her lips after every encounter. you’d bent over to adjust the coffee table, and when you stood back up, julie was leaning against a wall with a very noticeable bulge in her pants that clearly wasn’t there before.

as wrong as it’d felt, you let your guard down and had sex with julie. she wasn’t half bad and genuinely made you feel good. the way her cock dragged in and out of your walls made your eyes roll back, and she was so passionate you could’ve screamed. she wasn’t as girthy as natty, but she was longer, and she hit spots you didn’t even know about. she rubbed your clit in tight circles to get you to moan louder, as if she wanted to get caught. using her free hand, she held your waist and choked you as she pleased.

you were on the verge of passing out, and julie could tell. she held you by your back, lifting you up to straddle her. your arms instinctively wrapped around her neck as she pounded into you. her hands gripped your ass, and she scattered kisses all over your neck. you gasped in her ear and bit her shoulder every time she’d hit deeper inside you, and she’d chuckle. saying something like “natty doesn’t hit there, hm? bet she can’t even reach like i can.” or something degrading to elicit sobs of her name that unraveled into unintelligible whines and groans as the night went on.

you were clueless that natty had woken up, and even more clueless that she’d come downstairs. all you could focus on was julie marking your neck and collarbone with blooming hickeys, and the burn of her stretching you out. natty was anything but pleased once she reached the bottom of the stairs, the couch where you two were being directly across from them. she walked over and practically pulled you back by your hair, making you look up at her as julie kept going. “my best friend? you’re unbelievable. not even asking her to stop either. no fucking shame. always knew you were a slut, never knew it could come to this though.” she was seething, and the degradation wouldn’t stop as julie intentionally plunged herself deeper. every stroke forced a moan out of you as you stared up at natty, eyes getting glossy with tears as she tightened her grip on your hair and continued spitting her malice at you.

you felt almost pathetic, natty was glaring at the two of you with the most intense gaze and julie was relentless. your head would fall forward to her shoulder then jerk back, your back was arching harder with every stroke and you were babbling different strings of apologies to natty and praises to julie. natty was hurt, but she couldn’t help the fact of how hot she found it all to be. julie was running her hands all over your body and you were glancing between the two of them with teary eyes and your mouth agape. her and julie held eye contact, with natty scowling and julie smirking.

“has she made you cum yet?” left natty’s mouth in an almost sour tone, to which a slew of “yes, yes, fuck yes!” left yours in desperation. truth be told, she had made you cum. hearing that hurt natty, but not for long. you only said yes because of how fuzzy your brain was. your nerves are burning and you can barely focus on anything in the moment. julie’s thrusts begin to get animalistic, and she’s breathing heavily as she pulls your hair to expose your neck to her and digs her nails into your chest and thighs.

you’re a mess, hair disheveled and lips bitten and pink. you’re gripping julie’s shoulders and babbling natty’s name, the feeling of julie inside you causing a sense of stimulation you’d never felt before. natty stands behind you, her hand around your throat and her eyes empty as she continually tells you to be quiet. even in the darkness, you can make out the fury in her face. julie is holding your hips so tight you feel like you might explode, and natty is scoffing and calling you pathetic as tears finally come falling down.

the scene is dirty and you feel terrible, but you can’t bring yourself to ask julie to stop. you can’t bring yourself to ask either of them anything, whether that be julie slowing down or natty releasing your throat. you’re looking forward and up between the two of them, and julie has a shit eating grin as she stares past you and straight at natty. your eyes are forced shut from the pleasure, but you bring yourself to open them slightly as you hear julie say “god baby, ‘m close. gonna let me fill you up? gonna be a good girl for me?”. you truly can’t help how your eyes open and you nod relentlessly, despite natty being right behind you with one hand around your throat and the other tangled in your hair.

your mouth falls agape as julie’s hips shake then still, feeling her spill inside you. natty takes the opportunity, shooting julie a dirty look before she spits in your mouth and uses the hand that was around your throat to push your jaw up and make you swallow. you do, and she smiles down at you before giving you a spiderman kiss. julie thrusts into you gently a few more times before pulling out, using her fingers to plunge her seed deeper inside you. she lays you on your back, and you’re almost completely out of it.

natty holds you by your chin, and you’re forced to look up at her. julie is tying her hair back, running upstairs to start a bath for you and leaving you in the living room with your girlfriend. natty looks disappointed, but so so pretty from this angle that you want to lean up and kiss her.

“you know better than that baby, i know you do. julie? of all people? you’re terrible for that. but if she’s what you want, she’s what you’ll get.”

you have no idea what she means, and she doesn’t give you time to figure out as she carries you upstairs to the bathroom. it’s a daze as she cleans your body, moving gently when you wince. and then it hits you. natty can tell you’re deep in thought, and she speaks.

“julie and i are gonna share you, since that’s what you want. you look out of it already, so that’ll be for another night, yeah?”

your face drops as she speaks. you know what you’re in for, and you don’t know if you’re ready for it.

[gatabella]

Marlene Dietrich by Edward Steichen, US Vogue, May 1935

Marlene Dietrich, the incomparable, wears Travis Banton dresses - one of lavender chiffon with a ruff of violets and above-the-elbow gloves of lavender lace, one of black tulle in billowing flounces. Her jewels are from Trabert and Hoeffer.

[dreamgrlarchive]

A Prissy Girl’s Guide to Spring

since i won’t be active on tumblr when next spring comes around, and i’ve done 3/4 seasons, i felt it was appropriate to go ahead and finish the series! if you find yourself inspired by my aesthetic/looks, you can absolutely use this as a guide for the next primavera season! 🐇

what’s the look this spring?

my personal forecast for fashion spring ‘24 is “pink pilates bimbo” for sure. the renewal of spring is the time for a wellness reset. so i’ll be engaging in a physical activity but i’ll still be in barbie attire. pink athleisure pieces with super girly additions is my predicted aesthetic. 🎀

first and foremost…

let’s talk about what spring symbolizes: renewal, cleansing, and restarting. that makes itself apparent in the seasons colors; the darkness of winter transitions to the soft pastels of spring.

preparation

start spring cleaning and prepping for seasonal allergies. stock up on in season fruits to keep in the house. take up outside activities like biking, outdoor yoga, and jogging. buy new fragrances. prep your skin and hair for the overtime humidity.

essentials

pretty umbrella

allergy meds/quarterly check up

new water bottle/tumbler

fresh and clean candles + home fragrances

matcha and jade citrus tea

humidifier

neti pot

clothes and accessories

pink athleisure. the lululemon strawberry milkshake jacket is a must! (or a dupe if you’re on budget)

foldover yoga pants

bedazzled pieces

pastel colored pieces

cute mini bags

victoria’s secret totes

tennis skirts

sheer + lacey tops

florals for spring? groundbreaking.

glitter + sequins

satin dresses

lace up sandals

hunter boots

coach baguettes

victoria’s secret co-ords, leggings and sweaters

ballet flats

ugg slippers + fluff sandals

cute gym shoes with pink/sparkly details

lace up pieces

baby blue is a staple color for spring

ruffle trims

warm materials + revealing cuts

“pastry princess” looks inspired by sweets and dessertz

cropped baby tees

stripper heelz

diamond jewelry

body jewelry + belly chainz

sparkly hair clips and headbands

butterfly aesthetics

ribbons and bows

ostrich feathers

sparkly keychains and wristlets

bodysuits + heels combo

statement jewelry like hello kitty, fruit or desserts

beauty

pretty eye pigments (try mac, huda or iconic london)

vibrant pinks

warm bronzer

glitter gloss

translucent glosses in pink and orange

charlotte tilbury flawless filter

nars super orgasm blush

morphe 8r complexion palette

morphe nikita palette

natasha denona diamond & glow (favvv)

a bunch of clear glosses

fenty diamond bomb

fenty fussy gloss bomb

urban decay moondust shadows

cake beauty products

joseon spf 50

bright and/or floral fragrances (gucci flora gorgeous gardenia, jimmy choo illicit flower, carolina herrera good girl blush, juliette has a gun collection, yves saint laurent mon paris intensement, marc jacobs daisy fragrances)

victoria’s secret love spell + warm and cozy + la crème fragrances

sol de janeiro body mists

body shimmer (fenty beauty or bath and body works)

sweet body butters

sol de janeiro beija flor

exfoliating gloves

juicy sheet masks

cetaphil moisturizing cream

native candy shop collection

victoria’s secret tease + eau so sexy

5 blade razors and post shave oil

cute mirrors to keep in my purses

glitter nails

lavenders and pinks

protein treatments for moisture overload

[celtigxr]

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 22 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: It's Maiden's Day. The Royal Conclave has officially begun with guests from all four corners of the Realm gathering into the Grand Hall for the first Ball of the season, where all the Maidens will be presented. Word Count: 5651 CHAPTER WARNINGS: Misogyny. Religious themes.

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Maiden’s Day had begun shortly after the arrival of the King and Queen. The last three days were a flurry of last minute preparations. All the unwed ladies of the Realm were being prepared to don their white gowns, displaying their virtue on their sleeve, so they may all crowd inside the Great Sept atop of Visenya’s Hill and pay tribute to the Maiden. 

In the Celtigar apartments, bodies milled in and out of the room with tailors and seamstresses alike. Valeana already had a dress made for herself, which she had done moons ago for Maiden’s Day. Though, at the time, she believed it would have been celebrated at Claw Isle, like it was every year for the past decade. Her sisters were a different story; their dresses were commissioned prior to the funeral, and they were now rushed to adjust days before the event. In comparison, they were plainer than Valeana’s, who had the time to stitch out every detail, but they were still lovely and extravagant, as all Celtigar women were known for.

Floris’ was a shockingly pearl white gown with a modest boatneck neckline, and tight wrist length sleeves. The neck, arms, and hemline adorned with the same damask embroidery stitched into it, with small quartz crystals polished into teardrops dangling along her neckline. Her hair was pulled away from her face, parted down the middle, flowing down her back with only a single braid woven down the middle. Any stray hair would have been held back by her crescent white hood that had a white veil hiding her brown tresses. 

Shyla’s was an alabaster white, with a scoop neckline to accentuate her beautiful neck, and capped sleeves. She had more of an empire waistline, allowing the skirt to flow freely with its light tulle curtains. There was less detail in hers, but there were pearls woven into the skirt sporadically, like white stars on a canvas of clouds. Lastly, she wore lace gloves, a matching pearl choker with a ruby at the center, and unlike Floris, all her hair was piled up, topped with an albino peacock feather. 

With her extra free time, Valeana was able to put her full attention on the dress she had promised Queen Alicent she would make. She had already presented the queen days prior to her departure with sketches of her designs, and Alicent had only responded with requests for minor changes. She did not wish to be scandalous, but she did want to make a statement. The design she chose would be tedious, but Val enjoyed the challenge. Rosy, her ever loyal handmaiden, was always there to assist with her mistress’ work. She had helped many times in the past, which has aided Valeana greatly when it came to multiple gowns for multiple occasions… Which she would likely need these next couple of moons. 

She had a lot of work ahead of her, particularly her own gown for the Creature’s Ball. She had no ideas for herself, and that made it all the more difficult to start. Her hands moved along the soft fabrics that her mother had brought over from Claw Isle and bought in King’s Landing market places. All colours of the rainbow were presented before her, in various shades and saturations. From brilliant cobalt blues, to muted lavenders, to rose blush reds, to even unflattering palettes such as mustard yellow, mourning black, burlap sack brown, and salmon pink.

Maiden’s Day started painstakingly early as everyone got ready, aside from the men who did not need to don their formal attire until later, just before the ball. Valeana strapped in her more formal prosthetic, the one she affectionately called “Ser An-toe-knee Woodsby”, who had a wedged heel to accommodate the height of her wedged shoe. She always preferred this prosthetic over “Lady Footlyn”, it was more elegant, and walking in it felt more natural, but the caveat was that it wasn’t as worn in as she would have liked, and it would always have to be worn with a wedge shoe on her other foot. The increased height made it more difficult for her to stand for hours now that her right foot was made to bear the brunt of her weight on the balls of her feet. Still, she loved the way it made her hips sway side to side. 

Her large ivory gown was pulled over her head, and pooled at her feet with its scalloped hemline. Out of the three dresses, Valeana’s was the only one with colour. Maroon embroidered roses were designed in the grand width of the gown, standing tall on their stems like an award winning rose garden. The same pattern was centered on her bodice, the bud of the rose centered between the width of her breast, and the bottom of the stem ending at the ‘V’ shape at her waistline. Her biceps had the same design as well, although more subtle, taking the snug shape of her arm until it got to her elbow where it flared out in delicate lace. Then, as always in Celtigar fashion, pearls decorated the dress all over, accentuating lines to give it more texture. 

Valeana’s hair took the most amount of time. As long and thick as it was, it took two handmaids to tend to it. They pulled and pinned until it became a single large braid, the knots loosened elegantly, and decorated with sprigs of baby’s breath. Mother wanted it to be put up, but Valeana argued that the weight of her hair would cramp her neck. 

Wheelhouse after wheelhouse left the Red Keep that morning. When they reached Visenya’s Hill, it was crowded with carriages, horses, and women in white. Hundreds of maidens gathered into the Great Sept, leaving behind their mothers, their aunts, their fathers, and other guardians behind. 

Only maidens were allowed to fill the halls of the Great Sept that day. 

In silence, Valeana and her sisters entered the massive structure. It had been a decade since she last saw it and it never ceased to amaze her. The domed ceilings were so high that you could hear a whisper of a prayer from the other side of the Sept. Her eyes roamed around, looking at unfamiliar faces of women and girls alike. From girls as young as three, to spinster women as old as 60. If you were never married, and never laid with a man, you were here to worship and honour at the feet of the Maiden. 

She did not see Ellyn and Wylla in the crowd of white, and she ended up losing her sisters in the shuffle of the crowd. Not wanting to waste time on finding her people, she decided to take place in the first empty space she could. She immediately spotted one on a pew next to a young woman in a frost white gown, hair a beautiful red orange that was laid in waves down her back and plaited into a crown adorning her head. She was on the robust side, with rounded cheeks, a wide waistline, and soft arms. She reminded Valeana a lot of her former younger self, but admittedly this young girl was far more prettier, more vibrant. 

“Do you mind…?” Valeana asks the girl in a whisper. No one dared to raise their voices while the Septas filtered through the crowd with vulture-like awareness. Every once in a while, they would ring a bell when someone was being too loud. 

The girl looked up with surprised sapphire blue eyes, then she relaxed with a kind smile, “No, not at all.” 

Valeana settled in beside her, and took a look around to see if she could spot her sisters, or her two only friends, Wylla and Ellyn. 

“Looking for someone?” The girl next to her asks. 

“Lost my sisters in the crowd,” she admitted. “Trying to spot my friends, but… with everyone wearing white, they all blend in together.”

The girl softly chuckled, then quickly covered her mouth, “Same thing happened to me, but with my cousins. I have no sisters, just too many brothers.” 

Valeana smiled in response, “Who are your cousins?”

“They are Lord Tyrell’s daughters,” she answered simply, then extended her hand. “My name is Lady Catelyn by the way. Catelyn Redwyne. But you can call me Cat, everyone does.” 

Valeana took it and they both shook gently, “Lady Valeana Celtigar.” 

The mention of her name caused the young girl’s brows to raise and her mouth to gape a bit, “You’re Valeana Celtigar?”

The octave of her voice was loud enough for a Septa to sharply bring a bell in their direction. The two girls looked over before hunching down and continuing their whispers. 

“Erm, yes. How do you know me?”

“Your name is spoken all over the pavilions,” Cat whispered in haste as she took a glance around to make sure no one was listening. “They say King Viserys’ two eldest sons are fighting over your hand.”

A deep blush stained her cheeks, “That isn’t… That’s not what is happening at all. Are people really talking about me? I haven’t even left the Keep since I arrived.”

Cat nodded eagerly, “It is all the ladies are talking about. That and your… uhm, many drunken exploits with men.”

“What!?”

The bell rang next to her ear, jostling her in her seat. When she turned around, a Septa was glaring at her with a twisted puckered face. Slowly Valeana turned back around. 

“It was one time,” she immediately corrected. “And I was in the company of women.”

“Well, whatever the truth of it is,” Cat started, a little smile at the corner of her lip, “You are creating quite a stir in the Realm. It has caused a divide between the ladies.”

“What do you mean?”

“Half the women wish to end you, and the other half wish to be you. Either way, all here are green with envy.”

“And which half are you, Lady Cat?”

She smiled sweetly, folding her arms on her lap demurely, “I am a fan of great romances, and therefore, a fan of you. It reminds me much of this novel I read whilst living in Highgarden. It is about a woman from the North forced to marry a Dornish prince, but fell in love with his brother. But she ended up falling for her betrothed too, after some time. It was quite riveting.” 

Valeana’s face was fully pink at this point, from outrage over this news, to flattery over Cat’s praise. At this odd book that sounded far too familiar for her liking. She cleared her throat, “And–and what happened… in the end?”

Catelyn sucked in her lips sheepishly, “Oh, I dare not say. Not here, not on Maiden’s Day.”

Valeana shot a look at the giant statue of the Maiden, whose feet they all circled. Then she looked back at the Redwyne girl, “Whisper it into my ear.”

Tentatively, Cat leaned over and cupped her hand over Valeana’s ear, “They both became her lovers. Often at the same time.” 

If it was possible, Valeana’s face went pinker. Her eyes glanced back at the Maiden, green eyes filled with religious guilt. 

Maiden, forgive me for my thoughts. She thought, swallowing thickly. 

The Great Hall was near its capacity with the collection of noble families that crowded it. Hundreds if not a full thousand people mulled around, mostly men as half the population of their guests were making their way towards the Red Keep from the Great Sept. Aemond lurked in the fringes of the hall, eye moving along to each faceless body, trying to identify who belonged to which family. He spotted Lord Borros immediately; he was an easy character to pick out from the crowd, and it was not because of his size. He was loud and tended to take up as much space as possible. Along with him, he found Jason Lannister, their Lord Treasurer’s twin brother. Lord Tyrell and his Dornish wife, the Redwyne brothers, the Starks, the Freys, and even the Greyjoys were in attendance.

Aemond knew that most would not stay longer than the length of the Tourney; it was not just wives that these bachelors looked for, but titles and knighthoods, of which the King promised. But there were many bachelors indeed, easily identifiable by their attire. 

The maidens wore white, and so did the un-affixed men, save for the widowers. The young men and boys that had not married once wore various shades of white doublets and jerkins. Their breeches are generally a darker colour, and a formal cloak of their house colours framed their bodies. 

Aemond abhorred the colour white on him, but at the very least the dark forest green of his cloak gave him the depth of darkness that he preferred. The lapels and stitching of his satin jerkin carried the same green, and in the same shade of white, dragons were embroidered onto his shoulders and the bottom near his hips. His cloak hung on a gold chain clutched in the jaws of two dragons at his shoulders. His eyepatch was the only black piece of clothing on him; it was his most formal one, with swirly switching in the leather. The strap this time was tucked under his hair and under the shell of his ear on one side, giving room for the golden circlet above his brow, showing his status as a prince of the realm. Lastly, part of his hair was intricately woven into a series of plaits that collected into a fishtail braid that went down the center of his head, the length of the rest of his hair fanned over his back like a sheet of silk. The process of which was irksome, as Aemond absolutely loathed anyone but himself and his mother to touch his hair. 

His eye fell onto Aegon, who wore similar garb, but held more gold than green on his doublet. His hair was only half pulled back into a small twisted plait on the back of his head, and the circlet that rested on his brow had emeralds encrusted around the gold rim. He kept himself busy with socializing, as that was what Aegon was known for. He surrounded himself with the team of Redwyne brothers, laughing loudly over goblets of wine, likely made from their wineries. 

Aemond moved his attention away from him, landing onto his uncle who was on the other side of the hall, keeping to the fringes just like him. Daemon wore black, whether by a personal preference or to convey the fact that he was still in mourning. It was likely the former of the two, knowing his uncle’s reputation. Daemon’s cloak was black as well, though the inside was blood red, making the Rogue Prince look like the Black Dread in human form. 

And of course, Daemon was looking directly at him.

Aemond kept his eye on him, refusing to move it an inch. 

It was always so strange to him that he and his uncle had not formally met at Leana's funeral, and even after the incident, no regard was spared. Daemon lurked in the shadows while his mother screamed for justice over Aemond’s eye, and not once did the Lord of Flea Bottom say a word about him claiming his late wife’s dragon. It wasn’t until only a couple days ago that they had even locked eyes with each other, after Valeana and Jacaerys greeted each other. 

It was bizarre. Like looking into a mirror that showed him his future. 

The staring contest broke when Daemon was joined by his step sons, oblivious to Aemond’s spectre on the other side of the Great Hall. Both men wore identical garb, save for their colouring. As heir to the heir, Jace wore a red cloak, draped over one shoulder, being held on by a silver dragon’s claw. His brother wore a muted aquamarine one, and his doublet had the image of the seahorse woven into patterns at his breast. With Lord Corlys still abed with no indication of survival, Luke’s choice of colours was a clear statement that he was the heir to Driftmark… But anyone with eyes knew the title belonged to Lord Vaemond Velayron. 

The doors to the main entrance opened with the blaring of trumpets announcing the arrival of the maidens. A hush went through the crowd as all men, and married and widowed women flanked the sides in order to make room for the ladies that would be presented. The first, of course, was Princess Helaena, who was dressed resplendently in a true white gown with a train that followed behind her. Her hair unbound, with a crown of white flowers upon her head. Her dress had little crystals woven into the hems and linings, and the shape of butterflies could be seen in the fine embroidery. Her sleeves were long and billowy, flowing into her skirts and covering her arms and hands completely. 

It was painfully obvious how nervous and fretful she was. She slowly descended down the wide staircase, eyes flickering around the crowd as her eyes shone with a glossiness of unease. Helaena was not good with crowds, and here she was on display for the entire Kingdom. Aemond made a step towards her, intent on collecting her from her personal hell, but his mother beat him to it. She swiftly cut through the crowd that parted and bowed for her. Upon reaching Helaena, she took her hand and silently pulled her through the crowd towards the head table where the royal family would be seated. 

After that was settled, the gently bred ladies were introduced to the room three to four at a time. There were the Four Storms, the Baratheon sisters, then Jason Lannister’s girls, and so forth. After a lady Redwyne and her Tyrell cousins were introduced, the names of Floris, Valeana and Shyla were announced, and Aemond snapped to attention. 

“Lady Floris Grafton, Lady Valeana Celtigar, and Lady Shyla Celtigar,” the announcer’s voice echoed in the hall. Aemond’s eye swept around for a moment, noticing some of the women whispering to each other as they craned their necks to watch the three girls descend down the stairs.

Aemond tried to appear impartial, but his body moved without his consent. He stepped in between bodies, forcing them to part with his shoulder. When people craned to see who had been cutting through them, they jumped aside. Had Aemond been paying attention to his surroundings, he would have noticed he was not the only one that filtered through the bodies to get closer. Apart from him, there were three others.

Valeana had her hands clutched in her gown, chin down on her clavicle as she watched her steps down the stairs. Her hair practically glowed in the midday sun that shone through the skylight and stained glass windows, giving her a halo of dust particles dancing around in the air about her head. Aemond has never seen her in white before, at least not from head to toe. She was radiant, like a star on earth. 

A divine creature descended from the Seventh Heaven. 

The Maiden in flesh and bone.

His eye trained on her every movement, his vision a tunnel and she was the light at the end of it. She was the only thing that existed in that room, in that world. Once she reached the ground, her eyes lifted and like a magnetic force they immediately found him. 

There was a ringing in his ear as he became deaf to everything and everyone around him. They were suspended in time the moment their eyes locked onto each other. Aemond’s lips parted as the breath was quite literally stolen from his lungs, and his life flashed before his eyes. All moments in time that he shared with her, as far back as babes. 

Squeals of laughter and delight as they played in the rain and mud, and then ran through the corridor tracking dirt on the flagstone, being chased by two irate Septas. Sitting back to back in a copper tub as the same two women scrubbed them down to their bones. 

Wrestling over the last lemon tart on their shared platter underneath the Heart Tree, getting tangled in the roots as they tugged at each other’s hair and pinched each other’s arms. They always ended up splitting it in the end when Valeana tapped out, huffing in disappointment and ignition. 

Their “discreet and secretive” sleep overs they would have under a large desk in the royal library. Sharing a large pillow and blanket as he practiced his Valyrian to her until she fell asleep on his shoulder. Maester Artos would always find them, barking loud enough to wake them in a startle, causing their heads to bump into each other.

Her face lighting up whenever he presented her with menial gifts, such as shiny rocks, seashells, flowers, or rusted jewelry found on the beaches of Blackwater Rush. She would always make something out of them; pendants, earrings, or unconventionally sewn in an embroidery loop, woven in her art for eternity. 

She running to him in tears after the Greyjoy boy kept on pinching and slapping her behind whenever she had her back turned. He had taken his handkerchief and dried her tears and smoothed down her hair, vowing that he will never let him touch her again. 

And then lastly when his father told him he would be marrying her, his best friend. And his one and only weakness. His pride and fear consumed him then, but now…

Now, as he watched her turn away, her hand poised out to grasp the hand of her elder brother, he was consumed by a new type of fear. The fear of losing her completely, of which his pride now would not allow. 

Valeana Celtigar belonged to him. 

As time took motion once more, the chorus of music and chatter filled his eardrums. Aemond was returned to reality, left to stare at her back as Clement brought his Valeana over to the side, where the rest of her family waited. Aemond forced himself to turn away before he could do anything rash in front of quite literally all of the Realm. 

The first dance of the ball was to begin shortly after the mingling of guests, and it would be followed by the feast, and a parade of fools and entertainers. Aemond intended to reach Valeana before the dance could begin, before Aegon or Jacaerys could reach her. He cut through the crowd in long strides, hyper aware of the eyes of his father, mother, sister, and rogue uncle upon him as he narrowed the space between himself and the Celtigars. However, before he could even get within yards of them, his path was intercepted by Lord Borros and the eager brown eyes of Maris Baratheon. 

“Prince Aemond,” The Stormlord greeted, his smile calculated and false. It didn’t reach his dark eyes, which assessed him with keen suspicion. “I thought you might have lost my beautiful daughter in the crowd, and so I personally escorted her to you.”

Maris looked up at her father in gratitude before back at Aemond, “I told my father it was my wish to take my first dance with you, Prince Aemond. If it pleases you.”

The reality of his decisions of the past few weeks weighed heavily on his shoulders in that instant. Since that moment in the corridor with Valeana the other day, he had forgotten he had shown personal interest in Maris Baratheon. By now Borros  surely was already fixated on the idea of betrothal, else he would not be here carting his daughter to him like a sacrificial lamb. More likely than not, the Stormlord surely had talked to the King about it already, which presented more problems. Had this been a week ago, Aemond would have only hesitated for a moment before bending to duty, should it have been the will of his father and mother. Both of which he knew were against it for some vague reason, given the lecture that was given to both him and Aegon the night of their return.

His eyes flickered above their heads where he could just about make out Valeana, standing partially behind the body of a girl with red hair and a round, plush face. Aegon and Jace crowded them, effectively snuffing out his chance at claiming Val’s first dance.

Aemond’s jaw was tense when he looked back down at Maris, but he forced himself to smile, just enough to make him look convincing. 

“It would please me greatly, Lady Maris,” he extended his hand to her, which she took with a bright smile and casted a look to her father over her shoulder. 

Lord Borros hummed satisfyingly, “Wise choice, my Prince. Next to my little Floris, she is the best dancer at Storm’s End. Beauty, brains, and grace!”

“Father! Please!” Maris chided, taking her place at Aemond’s side. Too close for comfort. Too close for him to look detached.

Separating himself from Maris now was going to be a challenge. The last thing he needed was contention with Borros Baratheon, when in the future his mother and grandsire may need his loyalty.

Aegon was well into his cups before the maidens arrived for the ball, and that was simply due to his nature. A man who quickly found friends among strangers, Aegon was by all accounts a social butterfly, and an avid social drinker. When the maidens started to enter the Great Hall, he leaned against a large pillar casually next to Redwyne brothers, as the four of them each judged every girl that walked in. 

“Ah, Cassandra Baratheon,” Aegon turned to the three men, “Beautiful, but a bore. She complains about every bloody thing.”

“That is unfortunate,” Cleyton, the eldest, tutted. “I like tall women.”

Aegon scrunched up his nose at that, “Do you really? Not for me. I like them short… easier to align their nose with my cock.”

The men laughed and turned back to the parade of women. Jason Lannister’s daughters came in after, hair like spun wheat and looking like clones of each other. 

“I’d take them all, one at a time, or all together, really,” Ser Cedric, the second son, giggled into his cup while his younger brother slapped him in his arm. 

“Such a pig, Cedric. A greedy pig,” Colin chided, earning him an incredulous look from Cedric. 

“You’re one to talk, baby brother. You were ogling the widows like a hunger panged hound.”

Cleyton leaned into Aegon’s shoulder, “He likes older women.”

Aegon’s shoulders shook with a soft laugh, “I do not blame him. Older women often make the most eager sluts.”

“Lady Wylla Stark, Lady Barba Bolton, and Lysara Karstark.” 

“Oh, now she is a work of art,” Cedric stepped forward, his hand gesturing to the raven haired woman descending the stairs. “I always thought Northern women were large, hairy and had beards. Thank the Seven I’m wrong.” 

“I’d be careful with that one,” Aegon said thoughtfully. “She will emasculate you with her eyes alone.” 

Cedric smirked widely, “Sounds like my kind of woman, then. I enjoy a good hunt every once in a while, you know?”

Cleyton snorted, shaking his head, “You forget she’s a Stark; a direwolf. She’s the hunter… And you are a pretty boy with a long stick and shiny hair that you spend too much time on.” 

The boys laughed, even Aegon, as Cedric shook his vibrant mane away from his face haughtily, “Thank you for calling me pretty, brother. You know how it gets me hard.” 

“Good gods,” Colin sighed embarrassingly into his palm. 

Then the doors opened to three women, two tall and willowy with dark brown to black hair in coiled curls and thin braids, and the third a shorter girl in an empire waistline dress and bright orange hair tumbling about her shoulders. Clearly a chubby one, even with the cut of her dress that tried to shield her unwanted curves. 

“Oh, that is simply not fair,” Aegon tutted, “You don’t pair up the thoroughbreds with the mule.” 

“Oi, careful now,” Cleyton rebuked while Cedric made a sharp hissing sound through his teeth before covering his grin with his fist. 

“That’s our sister, my Prince,” Colin quickly added. 

Aegon grimaced, sucking at his teeth as he casted a look over to his new mates, “Sorry. What I mean to say is: Your sister is very lovely.”

The girls were introduced as Lady Sharis and Malora Tyrell, and Lady Catelyn Redwyne, first cousins likely from their mother’s side of the family. 

“Lovely, sure,” Cedric snorted in his cup, earning him a quick whack from his elder brother upside the head. 

It was not long after that the Celtigar sisters were introduced to the crowd. The mere appearance of Valeana was enough to sober Aegon, but only to then get drunk at her visage after. 

“Oh, ho, ho,” Cedric dog whistles and nudges Aegon’s arm, “That’s her then? The Celtigar girl that’s gotten the Princes of the Realm all in a tizzy. Now I can see what the fuss is all about. It’s the only bloody thing Cat, Shar and Mal can ever bleedin’ talk about.”

Aegon grinned, eyes still glued onto Valeana as she descended down the stairs slowly, her sisters trailing ahead of her at a faster pace. 

“The whispers have reached the pavilions then?” Aegon’s eyebrow raised, not paying them a minute of his attention. His teeth grazed his bottom lip as his eyes drank in every inch of her. Her neck, her hair, her bosoms and her cinched waistline. He felt a stir in his loins and the overwhelming desire to taint her white dress by deflowering her took over his senses. 

Her maidenhead will be his. 

He stopped listening to the Redwyne brothers; their prattle was background noise to him as he swallowed the remains of his goblet and quickly shoved it into one of the boys’ empty palms. 

“Excuse me,” he pushed himself from the column, eyes trained on Valeana as she parted from her family to go converse with none other than Catelyn Redwyne, of all people.

As he made his way through the milling bodies, in the corner of his eye he could see another filtering through towards the same destination. His eyes caught his nephew’s, and with a dual glance back at Valeana, the race was on. The two princes cut through the crowd, causing curious looks and shocked whispers at the sight.

“Seven Hells,” Valeana startled when she turned around just in time to see the brown and silver haired princes all but collide with each other. Overwhelmed by the sudden attention, she put Catelyn in front of her to shield her. The redheaded girl did not seem to complain. 

“Good Maiden’s Day, Lady Valeana,” Aegon greeted first, a knowing smile upon his face. “You look resplendent today.”

“Thank you, my Prince,” Val curtsied stiffly. 

“I dare say she always looks resplendent,” Jace smiled, his hands folded neatly in front of him, “But, you do look exceptionally more today, Lady Valeana. White suits you.” 

Aegon sent him a withering look. 

Catelyn turned to Valeana, all wide eyed and gleaming with barely concealed excitement. Aegon didn’t see, but she mouthed: “Three princes?!”

Valeana’s eyes widened slightly at her before returning her attention to the men in front of her, “Prince Aegon, Prince Jacaerys, this is my new friend, Lady Catelyn Redwyne.”

“But, please call me Cat. Everyone does.” 

“Ah, yes, I was just acquainting myself with your brothers,” Aegon bobbed on his feet and smiled politely at her. “Lively lads, them. It is true what they say about the Redwynes; they can drink anyone under the table and still walk in a straight line. A talent I someday wish to have.”

Cat giggled, then gave a soft snort, which caused her to blush heavily and cover her mouth, “Oh! Oh, dear, that was embarrassing.”

Aegon hummed amusingly, smile still donned, “Aren’t you a darling. If I can make a lady laugh to the point of snorting, then I have succeeded in life.”

The four of their heads perked up at the sound of lutes and drums, signalling that the first dance was about to begin. Aegon turned back around, eyes finding Valeana’s His mouth opened, ready to ask her for a dance, but Jace was quicker and his request left no room for refusal. 

“I promised Lady Ursula that you would be the first I asked to dance, Lady Valeana,” Jace stepped forward with an extended hand, his smile charming, “I hope you do not do me a disservice by forcing me to break that promise.” 

Valeana swallowed, looking at Aegon briefly with pained eyes, and then back at Jace. The corners of her lips tugged upward, twitching as she tried to keep a polite face. 

“Well, I would never wish to disappoint my mother,” she placed her hand in his, and he gently pulled her into his orbit. 

Aegon glowered silently, nostrils flared as his finger curled into fists. Jace gave him a smug look of triumph, the end of his lips turning into an insufferable smirk before returning his baseborn brown eyes onto Valeana. She gave Aegon one last look before she disappeared onto the dance floor. 

“Strong bastard,” Aegon hissed, forgetting he was not alone. 

Catelyn laugh-snorted again, then promptly covered her mouth, eyes wide with realization. “Oh no, I should not have laughed at that.”

Aegon’s mood significantly shifted; his smile broadened as he turned to her. “Oh, but I am glad you did,” he tilted his head and offered her his hand. “May I have your first dance, Lady Cat?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE SNEAK PEAK He hummed, his eyes glancing down to the floor where her feet were hidden behind the hem of her dress, and then back up.  “I didn’t see you dancing.” She couldn’t help her eyes from narrowing, “You were watching me?” There was a faint smile there, one that she could not decide if she liked or not. Though what he said after did make her toes tingle and her face feel hot.  “Always.” 

Notes: Oh, where do I begin. You finally get to meet my other babies. If it wasn't obvious already, the heroine for Aegon's Spin Off story has been introduce, along with her brothers and cousins. They party hard at the Arbor, what can I say. I havent decided yet if I'll wait until the end of TPD to post his story yet, but I will warn you guys, that there will be a mia moment of no updates for probably two weeks as I try to work on both of them simultaneously. I've only written the prologue, and I need to make sure I get the timeline right. But that will probably not happen until sometime in November.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[beansprean]

I adore Derek’s new gothpunk e-boy aesthetic and am sprinkling my own weeb hc on top!! I love him 😍

(Feel free to use his nakey self if you want to draw other fits on him, just don’t erase the watermark!)

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Full body of Derek smiling nervously, left hand at his side and the other held up like ‘nya’. He is wearing a black studded collar, a scoop neck black shirt with crying anime eyes, bleach stained light jeans cuffed over black combat boots, and a puffy camouflage jacket with a hood. He also has fingerless gloves and several chains attached to o rings looped around his belt.

2. Repeat. Derek is wearing a dark blue long sleeves shirt with thumb holes, frayed hems, and elbow patches under a tattered white tee shirt with horizontal rips that says "blood lust rave" in dripping black font. Beneath are black jeans with a studded belt and red suspenders hanging tucked into knee high burgundy leather combat boots. He has on several gold and silver rings, a tattoo choker, a studded collar, a long necklace with a few rings, and a dark red beanie.

3. Repeat. Derek is wearing a black and white striped long sleeve turtleneck under a black Otoboke Beaver tee shirt and loose black jeans tucked into white platform boots. He has several silver rings a silver chain around his neck, and another looped through several o rings around his belt.

4. Repeat. Derek is wearing a loose dark red striped sweater with a rip at the neckline affixed with safety pins, dark wash skinny jeans with multiple rips down the thighs and knees over fishnet tights, and checkered high top sneakers. He has dogtags, a pentagram necklace, and a studded collar around his neck and multiple chains, padlocks, and handcuffs hanging from his belt with o rings.

5. Repeat. Derek is wearing a dark loose sweater with thumb holes, a ripped off collar connected with safety pins, and fishnet material from the waist down. It's tucked into loose black skater pants with dangling hooks and suspenders and an askew studded belt, unzipped at the calf to show red material underneath. Black converse peek out beneath the flared cuffs.

6. Repeat. Derek is wearing a white collared shirt under a black tee shirt that says “vampire weekday” in slashy red font and black jeans with red splatter on the knees tucked into red ankle boots. He has on several rings, a few chains and a padlock around his neck, and a studded belt.

7. Repeat. Derek is wearing a short sleeve dark grey button up with a white scallop pattern and rolled sleeves, unbuttoned past his sternum to show off the gold pendant around his neck. The shirt is tucked into dark wash jeans with a snakeskin belt, cuffs rolled to mid calf, a few inches above shiny burgundy ankle boots.

8. Repeat. Derek is wearing a pale lavender turtleneck with black fishnet sleeves that hook around his fingers like gloves tucked into black skinny jeans with a studded belt. He has a thick black studded collar with an o ring and a matching harness strapped across his chest, the center o ring attached to a leash he holds in his left hand. He has several chains attached to o rings at his belt and his jeans are tucked into huge black gothic platform boots with several straps.

9. Repeat. Derek is wearing an oversized black hoodie over distressed and ripped up jeans and scuffed brown hiking boots with the laces double wrapped around his ankles. His hoodie has some red lacing down the arms and at the cuffs, and at the center is a red square with a crying anime girl rendered in black with white lineart. Red text in Japanese on either side reads "lonely vampire"

10. Repeat. Derek is wearing black briefs. /End ID

[thesmokingguns]

Lingerie Box w Izzy Stradlin

Minors DNI 18+

The lavender box was tied with a thick ivory colored ribbon. Just the outside of the package looked expensive but as I paid for the outfit, feeling how light my wallet was now I was even more aware of what a splurge this was. The woman behind the counter slid the perfectly wrapped box into a glossy white bag with the brand's name in the same lavender color as the box, adding tissue paper like it was a present and walking around the counter to hand it to me. I thanked her, feeling awkward as I turned to hurry out of the store.

As someone who wore sneakers every single day and a mix of leggings or jeans the idea of frilly lace and silk made my skin crawl. When people talk about jeans and t-shirt girls I’m sure they are referring to me. I’m the type of person who wakes up and uses my fingers to comb my hair or just throw it up in a haphazard bun. Dressing up for me involves some lipgloss and if it’s really fancy I usually shakily apply mascara. So today was completely out of my wheelhouse and comfort zone.

The next stop of the day was the salon. I handed over my credit card before even getting any services and explained to the woman that today was important because my boyfriend had been away for a few months. She said she would take care of me but I didn’t expect it to be such a painful process. Wax and bleach, nails and curling irons. I left the salon six hours later with a bill that had too many zeros and wondering if people really paid this much money for torture monthly.

But I wanted to impress Izzy.

Izzy and I had started dating nine months ago. After three months we were living together and spending more time together than I think people would recommend. But we were in love and that was all that really mattered. At seven months he was going on tour with the band and I was staying behind to take care of our cats and because I didn’t like the idea of being on a bus with five guys in a band and their girlfriends. I thrived in personal space and knew tour life wouldn’t give me that. Izzy was a saint. He understood my space mattered and didn't pressure me to join him on the road. Which was why now that he was coming home I wanted to impress him so much.

I wasn’t dumb. I knew what happened with bands backstage, I knew what girls did to try and get close to rockstars. SO maybe part of this all was to show him that I could be part of that lifestyle. That I fit in with him. Maybe I loved him too much and I was just desperate enough that I would do anything to keep him.

At home, I stood in front of the mirror looking at myself. I knew it was time to get ready. I had around a half hour and really only needed to get dressed. I had been waxed and primped up, hair and makeup done, skin moisturized and made up to look like the doll version of myself. My hair in soft brown waves, eyes lined and sparkled, lips pouty and painted red. I hadn’t known I could look like this. As I touched my lips, I was surprised it was really me.

Moving towards the wrapped box I blushed, embarrassed even alone that I had bought this. It was a white lace teddy, with sleeves that tied over my shoulder in silky bows. See through it clung to my skin, at my hips it had a layer of soft mesh that was ruffle over them. I had bought white thigh highs to match and was contemplating on putting on the above the elbow silk gloves when I heard the front door open.

“Hey Dove, are you home?” My hands were fumbling to clean up the box, fingers slippery in the silk as I shoved the box in my closet, gasping as I reached for the white silk choker, struggling to tie it around my neck. A small gold heart dangling at my throat. “Dove?” I turned from where I had been staring in the mirror, looking at Izzy standing in the doorway.

Somehow he looked even better. The tight black jeans clinging to his body, button down shirt that was left unbuttoned at the top, a leather jacket on top of it. He pulled off his sunglasses, dropping his bag as he looked me up and down.

“Oh, dove.” I was rushing to him, throwing myself at him as he grabbed me, lifting me up as he kissed me. My legs around his hips as his hand slid down, over my back and onto one thigh as he moved the few steps towards the bed.

My heart was in my throat as he pulled away, tugging off his jacket, looking down at me with this feral need. I felt overwhelmed as he stared at me, taking me in with his deep eyes and lusty looks.

“Kiss me.” I tried pulling at his shirt collar, wanting to bring him down as I melted under his gaze but there was no controlling him. When he wanted to do something he would do it. Only then and not a moment sooner.

“I’m going to kiss every inch of your skin. Just be patient, my little dove.” my heart fluttered, cheeks burning as I raised a hand to feel the heat on my skin as I watched Izzy fully stand up now. He was watching me as he undressed, licking his lips like he was a man starved about to get his first meal. And then he was pushing me back, my head on the pillows as he hoovered over me, fingers running over the thin cloth that cost more than our light bill. “This is new.” His fingers moved down my arms, touching the gloves and guiding them towards his body, “I love it.” The way he growled, lice husky as the tips of my fingers slid down his stomach, towards the shaft of his cock.

Before Izzy I had been a sort of virgin. I sort of did everything but never fully experienced things fully until him. He was always patient, molding and contouring me to get the most pleasure for both of us. When I asked him to slow down he would. When we were trying new things he talked me through it with details of each step.

“Should I get undressed?” I asked, his eyes snapping up to look at me. He has been kissing over my stomach, groaning as I stroked him with my silky gloves on.

“Absolutely not. You look like heaven.” His tongue licked through the lace nipping at my skin as I writhed between his body and mattress. His compliment made it worth it. All the primping and the, “Jesus Christ.” He had pulled the bottom of the teddy to the side, the softness of my pussy greeting him. “You’ve been busy, dove.” His mouth lowered, kissing over my mound, tongue sliding through the wetness of my slit.

Izzy moaned into my juices, the sensation vibrating through me and causing a shiver of delight to run up my spine. His hands coming up my thighs, a finger hooking through the expensive teddy fabric to pull it more to the side as his other hand rested on the skin of my pussy lips, fingers pushing through the slit to spread me open for him. His mouth pushed deeper, tongue sliding into my entrance as I squealed. Hand squeezing his cock and making him look up, eyes meeting mine as he tongue fucked my pussy. I was trembling from the sensation.

“I need you now, little dove.” He was bringing my arms off him, raising them above my head as he pressed a deep kiss against them, letting me taste the way my pleasure tasted against his tongue.

I gasped as he moved both my wrists into one of his hands, pressing against mine. His cocks tip fighting the resistance of my entrance.

“Izzy, wait.” He looked at me, “it’s been a few months month. Go slow, please?” His eyes blazed as he kissed me, releasing my hands as he sat up, dragging me to his lap. My hands on his shoulder to keep balance.

“You take it how you can, dove. If you need help I’ll just pull your hips down and let your body stretch around me again.” He stroked my back, eyes watching as I gulped, unsure of myself as I held him in my hand, guiding him into me.

The first couple inches pulled my body apart, stretching me as I whimpered. Watching the way izzy swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he watched me.

“It’s starting to hurt. I don’t know if I can fit the rest.” My cheeks burned as I spoke the confession aloud. Watching Izzy smirk.

“We’ve done it before. We can do it again. Hopefully blood comes out of this fabric without too much trouble. I’m going to break you in, little dove. You better hold on.” Izzy warned. Holding my hips as he drove himself up and into my body.

The Yelp I let out as he shifted, pushing me back against the mattress, his balls resting against my ass as he held me down, the fullness of him inside of me.

“Sh, sh, sh. That’s a good girl.” He praised me as he rocked into me. I was whimpering , holding him as I tried to adjust to him. The size of Izzy seeming to tear me open as I felt myself contracting around him. My pussy throbbing around him as I rolled my hips. “I’ve missed you.” He breathed against my neck, clinging to me as I quaked under him. My head foggy, body feeling like it wasn’t my own.

“Izzy.” His name came out as a whisper, a prayer to the universe but he understood what I was saying. He knew what I needed.

My thighs around his hips as he moaned against my collarbone, nipping and sucking, marking me as I came around him. My vision blackened as I clawed down his back, hearing his feral groan and feeling the way his cum pumped inside of me.

I looked down as he pulled out, watching the cum slip down my thighs mixed with the slight of pink trails of blood from being fucked so hard again. Izzy was grabbing a cloth, wiping me clean as he kissed my thighs. His head sweaty as I reached down, fingers running through his hair, watching him look up at me with a smirk.

“I like when you dress up for me, dove. I like it a lot.”

[adhdnursegoat]

BTAS

cw: Riddler being dashing😊, reader is gn but wears a dress

word count: 1.4k

The grand ballroom is alive with the glittering lights of chandeliers and the soft hum of violins. Elegantly dressed, the identities of each guest are secret, each one hidden behind a facade that adds a layer of mystique to the evening. You adjust your own mask—a delicate, feather-adorned piece that matches your flowing lavender gown—as you navigate the room. The masquerade is a charity event your father insisted you attend, a gesture of goodwill and politics wrapped up in finery and champagne.

You weave through the crowd, offering polite smiles and nods to other guests. It is not the first time you’ve found yourself at one of these events, surrounded by the elite of Gotham City. But tonight feels different. There is a tension in the air, a charge that has you glancing around with a sense of anticipation, as if something—or someone—is watching you.

And then you see him.

At the far end of the room, partially obscured by the throng of guests, stands a man in a sleek black suit. His mask is striking—a bright violet piece of fabric with an intricate, swirling design that matches a purple tie tucked beneath his sharply tailored jacket and green vest. It is hard to miss the way he carries himself, oozing confidence and charm as he surveys the room. Your breath catches as his gaze meets yours across the space, and you find yourself frozen in place.

He steps forward, moving through the crowd with an ease that suggests he belongs here, that this masquerade is his stage. As he approaches, you feel your heart pick up speed, each beat syncing with the rhythm of the music filling the room.

“May I have this dance?” His voice is smooth and low, like velvet in your ears. He extends his gloved hand, palm up, waiting. You hesitate, your eyes searching his masked face for a sign of his intentions. But there is something in his posture, in the way he holds himself, that is both commanding and alluring.

Against your better judgment, you place your hand in his, allowing him to lead you onto the dance floor.

As the two of you glide into a waltz, his arm slides around your waist, pulling you closer. His movements are precise, his steps confident, as if he’s danced this routine a hundred times. He guides you effortlessly, each turn and dip executed with a finesse that leaves you breathless. The room around you fades, the music and the spinning of the other dancers becoming nothing but a blur. All that remains is this man’s attention, the steady warmth of his hand against your back, and the mystery of his intentions.

“You dance well,” you manage to say, trying to temper the nerves in your voice.

He chuckles softly, the sound rich with amusement. “I do many things well,” he replies, lips curving into a dashing smile. The mystery dancer leads you into a smooth natural spin turn, the both of you gliding across the room as if you both have practiced this a million times.

“I must say, I’m finding myself particularly interested in this dance.” His eyes, hidden but no less sharp, are locked onto yours. “And in you.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the way he says it, as if you’re the sole focus of his grand scheme tonight. Your instincts tell you that there’s more to this than a simple dance, that he has motives far beyond a casual flirtation. But despite the warning bells ringing in your mind, you can’t help but be drawn to him, to the intrigue that surrounds him like a shadow.

“Who are you?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. He twirls you gracefully, your skirts flaring out as you spin, before catching you in his arms once more.

“Now, where’s the fun in revealing all my secrets so soon?” he teases, his grip tightening on your waist for a fraction of a second. “Let’s just say I’m here to make this evening unforgettable.”

His words are laced with a promise, one that sends a thrill through you. He continues to lead you in the dance, the two of you moving seamlessly as the music swells around you. But you can’t shake the feeling that this moment is fleeting, that whatever spell he’s cast over the ballroom will soon break.

As the song reaches its crescendo, his arm tightens around your waist, and he dips you low, your body instinctively following the fluid motion. His face hovers dangerously close, the warmth of his breath grazing your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes widen, a soft gasp escaping as your back arches gracefully over his arm. Every muscle in your body is taut with anticipation, your fingers clutching his shoulder for support, your hand entwined with his. There's no doubt—he’s completely swept you off your feet, and the smug look on his face tells you he knows it.

His hold is firm but gentle, a balance of control and finesse, making it clear he’s in command of this moment. The scent of him, a dark and intoxicating teakwood, fills your senses as the world around you blurs into the background, leaving only the two of you, locked in this intimate, magnetic dance.

Your heart pounds in your chest, but not from the exertion of movement. It’s the way he holds you—like a secret, like a promise, in a way that only belongs to you two—that sends your pulse racing. He leans in ever so slightly, his lips just a whisper away from yours, a smirk curling at the edge of his mouth.

“My dear, I must take my leave, I’m afraid,” he murmurs, his voice a velvet caress against your ear, dripping with playful charm. “But do remember this dance, won’t you?”

The mystery dancer’s words wrap around you, leaving you breathless, your mind spinning as you try to process his sudden departure. Before you can respond, before you can plead for just one more moment in his arms, he lifts you back up with effortless grace. You find your footing, but the world feels different now, as if it's tilted on an axis that revolves solely around him.

His fingers linger on yours, pulling your hand to his lips in the softest of touches, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. And then, with a final, almost wicked smile that promises so much more, he slips away, vanishing into the crowd. You stand there, breathless, your heart still dancing long after he's gone.

And just like that, you’re left in the haze of what felt like a dream, the memory of his touch searing itself into your skin.

You blink, disoriented, as the music changes and the other guests continue their revelry. For a moment, you simply stand there, your heart still racing, your hand and waist tingling where his touch had been. It is only then that you notice something missing.

Your bracelet.

You glance down at your wrist, realizing with shock and awe that the delicate, jeweled bracelet you had worn is gone. The realization hits you like a bolt of lightning—he had stolen it. And you hadn’t even noticed.

Panic flares in your chest, but it's quickly overshadowed by something else: exhilaration. You look around the ballroom, searching for any sign of the man in the purple mask, but he’s vanished as if he were nothing more than a dream.

Somewhere, amidst the laughter and clinking glasses, you hear a faint sound—a distant echo of his voice in your mind, telling you to remember this dance. And you know you will. Not just because of the stolen bracelet, but because he had stolen something far more valuable: a piece of your heart.

You exhale, a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. The night suddenly feels alive with possibilities, as if his touch had left a mark on your very soul.

With a quiet resolve, you straighten your mask and step away from the dance floor. This isn't over. Not by a long shot. If he thinks he can simply waltz into your life, steal what he wants, and vanish without a trace, then he clearly underestimates you. A smile tugs at your lips as you begin to mingle back into the crowd, keeping your eyes peeled.

You’ll find him again. And when you do, it's game on.

[baeshijima]

— in these quiet nights

whenever you're stuck in solitude, ayato somehow manages to find a way to be by your side without fail.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 900+ wc, fluff, established relationship

A/N : its 1 am, currently using this as an escape from my project, and writing a very late ayato piece for his bday ;w; life stop making me have no time for my fictional men pls and ty <//3

There’s a solemn chill hanging overhead. The air stills, the stars dull, and the moonlight glimmers.

It’s not often you find a moment of peace, what with your busy schedule interfering time and time again, though you could argue it’s more solitary than it is tranquil. Perhaps this escapade would have been better suited in the early hours of dawn as opposed to the steadily approaching midnight you’re currently stuck in.

A whisper of a sigh slips through your lips. Pulling the thin blanket closer around your shoulders, you lift your gaze upwards, paying half a mind to the feather-light footsteps approaching from behind. You have no reason to turn to be able to identify the new presence, for who else would be mad enough to be up this late after the busy day which transpired?

“A fine evening, is it not?” comes that oh-so familiar intonation, the footsteps coming to a halt behind your seated form. Strands of baby blue obstruct your view of the bleak stars, a pair of lavender eyes twinkling with fond mischief follow in pursuit. Despite his towering form shielding you from the pale lighting, his face glows all the same — a testament to the sheer elegance instilled within. His gaze drifts down your shadowed form, a light hum trailing close behind. “Are you cold?”

You blink at his question. It takes a few seconds for you to realise the main focus of his concern; the blanket tugged over your shoulders. “How can I be when there’s no wind?”

As soon as the question is uttered, you immediately sense a foreboding shiver trickle down your spine. Maybe it’s the hairs along the back of your neck rising, or it could be the puffs of air Ayato is relentlessly blowing towards your dumbfounded figure.

“Do you feel the wind now?” he has the gall to ask. Unsurprisingly, the impish grin splayed across his lips becomes increasingly more tempting to slap off the longer he persists. Unfortunately, your hands are occupied, making it near impossible to move them. 

(Archons forbid you actually exert unneeded energy when you’re already spent.)

“Yes,” you deadpan, “I’m so cold my teeth are chattering. Can you hear it?”

He hums in faux contemplation, a gloved hand raised to rest under his chin in an attempt to further support his charade. “Not quite. Perhaps I ought to bring out the fan.”

“Please don’t. My teeth will really chatter then.”

Your shoulders relax upon hearing his gleeful laugh. In a fluid motion he steps away from you, exposing you to the stark moonlight, before plopping himself on the veranda beside you. Before you have the time to process the string of movements, your left arm is promptly lifted up (with the blanket following suit) as a bundle of warmth dives into the newly opened space, your arm tugged down and around the intruder of your personal space.

Well, at least he’s warm.

“If you’re tired then go to bed.” As soon as the words are uttered, a displeased whine escapes him. Much to your bemusement, a ticklish sensation occurs at the crook of your neck, and you belatedly realise the act akin to nuzzling currently being performed by the bane of your existence, his arms wrapping around your torso in protest. Like a child.

“Why should I?” he mutters into your skin, tone bitter and laced with indignance someone of his standing should most definitely not have. Well, you can’t say you’re not used to it.

“Because you need proper sleep.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll get sick again if you keep this up.”

“...”

“...”

“But why?”

Archons have mercy on your poor soul.

“I’d rather not be known as your personal pillow,” you state monotonously, positively done with his antics. “I have some dignity left in me.”

“And if I were to say you’re warmer than my bed and comfier than my pillow?”

(You’re not. You can attest to that fact as someone who has actually slept in his bed — which is unfairly warm and comfortable, if you may add.)

Gaze narrowing at the smug expression beaming up at you, you merely retort, “Do you want me to drag you to bed myself?”

“If it’s you then I would happily obli— mmrph.” Swiftly, your palms smother his words before he has the chance to finish. And no, you will not be swayed by the doe eyes batting up at you, nor by the fluttering of his long eyelashes brushing along the apples of his cheeks.

What an unfairly pretty lover you have in your palms. Literally.

Seeing how he’s more than happy with the skin contact being made, you take it upon yourself to swiftly remove your hands and return your gaze to the night’s canvas, his theatrical bemoans of your “cold shoulder” and “[Name] doesn’t love me anymore” going ignored.

It stays quiet between you for a while, the only sounds being the faint breaths and rhythmic heartbeats steadily falling in sync. Oddly enough, you find yourself forgetting the previous solitude you were trapped in only moments prior, focusing instead on Ayato’s fingers entwined with yours and basking in his familiarity.

Your shoulder dips slightly when a weight drops atop it. When you glance down to identify the source of permeating warmth, you can’t help the smile alighting your features.

“Thank you for loving me as much as I love you, Ayato,” you murmur against the crown of his head as you place a chaste kiss, before pulling the thin blanket around the two of you in an effort to cage your shared warmth.

(How strange, you silently muse to yourself, suddenly finding yourself overcome with drowsiness. The air feels warmer now.)

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[wroteclassicaly]

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Summary: A few years after the events of the Upside Down, your life has gotten progressively worse. From overly destructive nightmares causing you to socially isolate and distance yourself, to losing your job and your apartment — you find yourself having to crawl to an unlikely source for help. Your perfect, golden child, older sister (who is oblivious to everything that’s happened in Hawkins, your parents included), and her brand new husband (who also happens to be the guy you’ve been in love with since you were all kids) - Steve Harrington. Faced with no choice but to move in with the happy couple, mutual feelings resurface and trauma is revealed.

Warnings: Language, anxiety, panic attacks, smut, overall NSFW, loss of virginity, slow burn, friends to lovers, masturbation, mutual masturbation, pining, depression, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex, handjobs, public sex, cheating, trauma, jealousy, mentions of pregnancy, whole lotta angst in this one, tooth rotting fluff, so much comfort, and MORE!

A/N: This fic… I wanna cry just sharing it with you all. It’s been my baby that I’ve had outlined/been nurturing for about a year now. Inspired by the song I will link above, lyrics included. I can’t wait to take you all on this journey! I have so many plans for this, and I’m incredibly proud to finally announce it! Snippet from my WIP post here, is below this cut.

“I always thought that you two would end up together.” Nancy says, popping a pastel colored candy into her mouth from the hideous glass bowl that’s centered in the middle of the table.

And it’s true, even his first love always knew that he should’ve been with you. It made so much sense. You were one of her best-friends, as Steve had become during these last few years. This whole entire day feels like a horrific fever dream, complete with an itchy lavender puffball dress, lace gloves that made her feel like a flower girl and not a woman nearing her thirties in a couple years’ time. With her hair in the updo from hell, Nancy wants to take you and Robin, and just get the fuck out of this mess.

You sigh heavily, trying to fight back the disgusting amount of bile that keeps threatening to spew from between your lips. Robin reaches out to caress a gentle set of manicured nails along your forearm. “Dumbass dingus.”

[the-fiction-witch]

Little Doll

Media - The Artful Dodger Character - Jack Dawkins Couple - Jack X Reader Reader - Miss Y/n Y/l/n (Porceline Skin China doll look) Rating - Sweet AF Word Count - 4638

Jack finished up with his work in the theatre heading out as he pushed the sleeves of his white long-sleeved shirt under his blue waistcoat up to his elbows and ran a hand through his messy blonde hair. However, he immediately met his eyes with a familiar sight.

Miss Y/n Y/L/N, stood in the main figure of the hospital. She was wearing a pair of tall black boots laced up tightly, a long plaid lavender skirt with a large bird cage crinoline underneath, a white button-down blouse, with a belt tightly around her corseted waist with a silver moth buckle, crisp white gloves, tight waves of Y/H/C curls, with a bow of the same lavender plaid of her skirt, pale porcelain skin with perfectly placed freckles across her nose and cheekbones, and large emerald eyes. Her leather-bound notebook clutched to her chest.

Jack chuckled to himself as he saw her, seeing her made him feel bubbly as she reminded him of one of those beautiful porcelain dolls dressed up and set perfectly. He knew why she was here, and what she wanted. “Morning Miss Y/L/N,”

“Doctor Dawkins!” She turned excitedly, “Just the gentleman I was looking for,”

“Where are you now?” He raised an eyebrow,

“Could I have a word, please?”

“Go on Miss Y/L/N, tell me what you need and quickly I’m a busy man,” He said as he headed through the corridors towards his ward,

“Well firstly, have you given any more thought to allowing me to shadow your surgery silently?” she smiled as she happily followed behind him her skirt bouncing a little as she walked,

“I’ve already told you, you're not allowed in the surgical theatre.” He told her, “I don’t let little girls into surgery,”

“I see.” She nodded, “But secondly, would it be possible for me to shadow an autopsy in the morgue? Please,”

He rolled his eyes and sighed, “Alright, But you’re quiet the whole time.”

“I will I promise,”

“Alright come on,”

Jack headed down to the morgue with Y/n following behind him like an excited puppy, Jack began to set things up tying his leather apron around his waist and gathering his clean tools. Y/n closed the door and happily hopped onto an empty table. But Jack merely glared her down and she hopped off the table again,

“Sorry,” She gulped,

“Thank you,” He warned, “Get a stool if you want to sit Miss Y/L/N,”

She nodded excitedly adjusting her skirt as she fetched a stool, bringing it over to the table across from Jack sitting kicking her feet, a smile as wide as a kid on Christmas,

Jack would sighed, and continued working the corpse. "You're excited about this? Aren’t you?"

Y/n shrugged, "I find it all so fascinating" She smiled

"Well if you find this all so fascinating, why don't you get in close and watch my hands closely?"

She giggled and put the books down shuffling her stool over to sit closer to him her nose almost an inch from his hands her eyes wide with excitement,

Jack pointed at the lungs and spoke, "Now these are the lungs, they are what is used to supply the blood with fresh oxygen for the heart to supply the rest of the body. Notice their dark colour, that's a result of the disease. As the disease infected the lungs, it stopped supplying the blood with oxygen." He smiled down at her, "Do you understand?"

"… But how do you know they go that colour because of the disease and is not simply because they're dead?" She asked,

Jack thought on it for a moment, "You sure are a curious one. You're correct it could simply be due to death, but I'm making an educated guess based on prior knowledge. The man we're cutting open had died due to infection, and in turn, I would figure that his lungs would be infected as well due to the way he was coughing. And lo and behold the lungs are dark, that and dark coloured lungs would generally suggest infection."

"but you don't know that you didn't take his lungs out while he was alive,"

"That's a fair point. But as you see his lungs are collapsed. That wouldn't be the case if he was alive, they would be inflated like balloons." He'd poke one of the lungs, "As you can see, they're collapsed, and thus I am making the educated guess that they are infected."

"hummm…" She nodded,

Jack would look down at her, "Are you familiar with Occam's Razor?"

"…no?"

"Occam's Razor is a philosophy that states that you should assume the simplest explanation for something unless further evidence suggests otherwise." Jack explained, "So Occam's Razor in this situation says, the lungs are dark due to infection. I don't have further evidence to suggest otherwise, so therefore… The lungs are dark due to the infection."

"… Whenever you eliminate the impossible whatever remains however improbable must be the truth"

"Precisely. You catch on quite easily." Jack paused for a moment, "Didn't take you for that type."

"I like to read, one of the few things I enjoy father hasn't taken away… And I think that's only because he can't be bothered to read my books to check their subject matter," she explained her fingers wiggling itching to poke, prod and investigate

Jack chuckled at her comment, "You're father sounds like a real charmer." he would say sarcastically. "What, if you had to guess, do you think this man died from?" Jack asked,

"well… You made a point about the darkness of his lungs due to infection however due to the elasticity of the lungs so late Into this stage in the morgue the body didn't die from the lungs giving out, there was scaring in his nose and his eye sockets are swollen out instead of being sunk in. This means the lung infection began as a meer sinus and chest infection which he ignored. And he smoked. Given the discolouration in his nails… I'm going to say he choked to death trying to smoke while having a lung infection" she explained

Jack was stunned by her level of deduction, even going to the level of checking the fingernails. "How in the?" Jack would ask. "Yes that was my observation as well, but your observation about his nails. How could you tell he was a smoker, and how can you tell he was smoking whilst infected?"

"… Tobacco stains the ends of your fingertips yellow over time and causes your nails to turn very sickly due to the lack of good health collagen in the body. He isn't a very old man so he had a thick habit makes sense he'd want to still smoke"

Jack was extremely impressed by her observation, "I can see why you enjoy reading, You're a very good detective. Most women your age are getting married, not reading about murder mysteries!"

"I don't know whether I should be flattered or insulted…" She said "I know most ladies are off at their debutant balls and popping out babies but I don't know, men don't find me very palatable" she said her fingers stroking the exposed rib but she saw him looking so pulled back,

Jack tilted his head, "Men don't find you palatable? That's a shock to me. Most would fall head over heels at first sight." Jack smiled down at her, "Maybe they can read how clever you are, and they're put off at the idea of a young woman being smarter than them."

"Perhaps… I think a lot of it is my… More macabre interests, most men are put off by such things"

"And what exactly are your morbid interests? Are they that offputting?" Jack questioned. He certainly didn't care, if anything he had a rather morbid view of life as well.

"I'm sitting watching an autopsy for fun?" She answered

Jack chuckled, "That's considered off-putting? Sounds like normal curiosity to me." He smirked at her, "I'm curious to know other interests. What else is considered morbid?"

"I read a lot of horrors, a lot of crime stories, I like to research the occult and supernatural, I used to collect small bones but… Father put a stop to that"

Jack chuckled, "What's wrong with collecting bones? Sounds like a perfectly normal hobby. If anything, it sounds kinda cute."

"I used to have a frame filled with bird wing bones that I collected all laid out with diagrams and names but father didn't like it so… He made me burn it"

Jack grimaced at the thought of such a beautiful display burnt to ash. "Did he give a reason for making you burn it?" Jack asked, looking confused "He just sounds like a control freak from what you say."

"he said such things are not becoming of a young lady"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Seems like an excuse for a control freak to burn something you loved. Are there any other interests your father ruined for you?"

"he said I couldn't use and or own a planchette board"

Jack looked down at Y/n, "That spiritual board thing? Why would he not want you using that? Scared you'll find a ghost in the house?"

"ohh I did several they were nice but I think seeing it move freaked him out"

Jack smirked, "Wait, you got them to work?" He asked, sounding quite surprised, "And what about the ghosts you found? What were they like?"

"They were all very nice, I met a nice lady who died in the town in 1656. They burned her as a witch but she's very nice"

Jack tilted his head, "A nice ghost eh?” He chuckled, He thought, "Wait, how in the hell were you using a Phancheeetty- or whatever board that young? You're twenty-four. Did you get one instead of a rocking horse?" he asked jokingly.

"I made one.." she answered sheepishly

Jack looked surprised, "Now that's impressive! Most people would need years and years of supernatural study to get something like that to work, but let me guess. Is that another thing your father burned?" He sounded slightly annoyed on her behalf at the idea of burning it,

"mhm" she nodded

"This father of yours sounds more like a dictator than a father." Jack sighed, "Does he also burn your horror books?"

"no, but I don't tell him what is in the books and he's too lazy to read them and find out"

"At this point, I'm starting to think laziness is a blessing from this tyrant father of yours." Jack paused for a moment, thinking. "Is there anything he hasn't tried to burn?"

"…I'd say me… But he's threatened it before"

Jack's eyes widened at her response, "Wait, you mean to tell me that your FATHER has threatened to burn you?" He was slightly taken aback, he couldn't understand a parent being so abusive.

"he was worried I was becoming a witch"

Jack's face darkened. "I have a feeling this man should never have been allowed to have children."

His face lightened slightly, "Have you been intrigued by the supernatural since you were a child?"

"mhm, I don't know why I find it all so fascinating. I suppose it's just another form of religion at the end of the day. Some people read the bible every day, go to church, sit in their room read tarot cards and go for walks in the graveyard secretly hoping they can find a pet bat"

Jack's lips twitch at the idea of Y/n with a bat as a pet, "That is quite a lovely analogy. Most women would probably be disgusted at the idea of walking through a graveyard. But you love it." He smiled down at her, "You're an interesting one Y/n Y/L/N."

"thank you Doctor Dawkins" she giggled as she happily poked at the heart

Jack's eyes widened slightly as she called him Doctor Dawkins, it felt nice to hear, instead of Doctor Jack or just plain Jack. "No problem, Y/n." He smiled down at her, it felt nice to speak with her.

"So what is your opinion on supernatural and ghosts and all that?" Jack would ask in a curious tone.

“My Maid says I use to talk to ghosts when I was little say things I couldn't have known any other way, it makes sense I mean… Humans sort of exist in two parts the body and the soul, when he body dies soul has to go somewhere"

"That's not a common belief you know Y/n. Most people would say you're insane or crazy for thinking that the dead can linger around in ghost form." Jack smiled, "I think you're very intelligent, seeing the world as it really is. What about the supernatural? Does that exist?"

"I suppose the undead are possible if a soul was to re-enter a dead body. Demons and spirits seem possible just higher ranking ghosts, cryptids make sense too I mean I wouldn't be that surprised to hear a large yeti thing exists, some big bear that walks on its legs covered In white fur and fangs, when you think about it a tall long neck spotted creature with thin legs is just how anyone would describe a giraffe"

Jack found himself nodding at her explanation. "I've never had anyone else look at the supernatural so… Logically. You certainly have a unique view on the world." He smiled, "And what of the idea of vampires. Do you think they could exist?"

"people are weird I'm sure someone out there as licked blood, liked it, and kept doing it" she shurgged

Jack snorted at her response, "True that. I can think of many things worse than a blood fetish. You seem to have a very logical view on the supernatural, as if magic can be explained with science."

"I think all magic is just science we have yet to explain. I'm sure one day the human soul and where it goes well be explained by science and maybe it does linger on a way we would call a ghost we're just not there yet. I mean a few thousand years ago they probably thought tiny people can clockworks machines inside us to make or organs work" she giggled looking at the body he worked on with such thrill and excitement

Jack smiled down at her, she really was a unique one. Logical yet curious. She had a sort of endearing personality. "That is probably one of the most unique and interesting takes on science and magic I've ever heard." Jack chuckled softly, "You’d make a very good doctor Miss Y/L/N, You certainly have the mind for it, and the curiosity of a child."

"father wouldn't allow it, the only reason I'm allowed to linger in the hospital is because I lied to father. He thinks I'm at dance classes"

Jack rolled his eyes at that. "Again, I can't blame you. He sounds like quite the dictator. What exactly does he want you to become? A baby factory?"

"a trade for a business deal I suppose, and then a baby factory."

Jack grimaced at Y/n's response. "You're father sounds like a real piece of work." Jack was quite frustrated at the father, just the way Y/n spoke about him made him infuriated.

"he's old fashioned is all" she shurgged "not a very modern man." She giggled

Jack looked at her with a slightly stern expression, "You shouldn't make excuses for him. That man's a control freak and a dictator." Jack was slightly annoyed at her shrugging and laughing her fathers faults off.

"I suppose…" She said too focused on her fun she was having with the body

Jacks sighed, he couldn't force her to get angry. "You certainly have a way of not letting the mood get grim, don't you." He smirked, "How are you even having fun in a morgue with corpses around you?"

"I did say I was morbid"

Jacks chuckled, "No kidding, you seem more fascinated by a corpse than I do, and it's my job to look at them."

"you see them everyday, I imagine surgery must be fascinating" she smiled

Jack smirked slightly when she mentioned surgery, it was something his was passionate about, and Y/n clearly had some interest. He looked down at her with a curious expression, "Why do you sound sad? Did you want to watch a surgery? You know hospitals don't allow young ladies in the surgery theatre."

"I know… But I'd like to, it's not fair the men all get to pay a penny and watch I'd pay a whole shilling"

Jacks snorted with laughter at her response, she certainly had an adorable innocence to her. He gave her a fond smile, "That would be quite the sight to see you sitting beside some gentlemen in a theatre next to a surgery. But Y/n, aren't ladies meant to be fainting at the sight of blood?"

"ladies see more blood then men" she answered

Jacks eyes widened slightly, but then he started laughing, "You really are quite unlike other girls. And you are certainly observant." Jack looked at her, "If you don't mind me asking, how much blood have you seen? Other then that which comes from a period."

"… Some" she answered sheepishly

Jacks smirked softly, he could guess how she would have seen more then most girls. "You make me wonder if most girls would faint at the sight of my work. Though you seem quite interested."

"I'm sure most would"

Jack chuckled softly, "Most likely, you might be the only one who could handle the sight of a surgery. Though most ladies would either faint or be horrified." He smiled, "What would your father think of you if you had an aptitude for surgery and medicine?"

"… Lock me in my room I imagine"

Jacks expression darkened, "That man really is a monster isn't he." His tone was dark as he spat the word monster, a wave of anger washed over him at the image of Y/n being locked away in her room for having an interest her father didn't like.

"… He's… Protective I suppose"

Jacks expression immediately lightened when she responded, and he shook his head with a chuckle, "You're too kind. Just the idea of that man locking you in your room for enjoying something he didn't like made me enraged and you call that protective?"

"I guess so… Don't know what else to call it" she explained as the autopsy was now finished with "doctor Dawkins?"

Jack raised an eyebrow slightly, "What is it Y/n?" He inquired curiously.

"can… Can I sew it up? I'll be ever so careful I promise."

Jack smirked slightly, "You want to try stitching it up?" He inquired. He found the idea of Y/n suturing a stitched up corpse quite endearing, she certainly was an eccentric young lady.

she nodded excitedly

Jack smiled, "All right. You can try stitching the body up."

He began to instruct her on what to do, as he prepared surgical thread and surgical needle to try and make the process a bit easier for Y/n.

she giggled and happily sat taking the needle and thread she was slow and careful stitching like fabric she needed to be corrected a few times but he just loomed over her shoulder watching her inhaling her soft lavender perfume

Jack inhaled her gentle lavender scent, finding it quite soothing. It wasn't often a lady with a perfume walked into a morgue and happily tried to suture a body.

Jack couldn't help but softly smirk she was quite the sight, the sweet young lady sat on the stool her feet didn't even touch the floor, her sweet Lilac skirt around her, her beuatiful curls pulled back with a matching bow, needle in her bloody hands, a somewhat wicked smile on her lips and a gentle humming in her throat she was so happy she smiled and even hummed a little song as she sutured the body to perfection Jack couldn't help but watch Y/n, it was an amusing and endearing sight seeing her happily sat on the stool, stitching up the body. And even more amused by the sight of a bloody needle in her dainty little hands.

A thought suddenly struck Jack, "What if your father saw you like this? Working beside a me, cutting into a body with a bloody needle. How do you think he would react?" Jack inquired with a smirk.

"he'd lock me in my room, have a preacher stand outside and shout bible verses at me. Or sell me off to India"

Jack snorted with laughter at Y/n's response. He knew he probably shouldn't Laugh because it wasn't a joke to Y/n. But for some reason, the idea of Y/n being locked away in a room with a preacher standing outside shouting bible verses at her sounded humorous. Maybe it was because he found Y/n such an interesting young lady. "What a lovely father you have Miss Y/L/N." Jack commented sarcastically, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"he's not good but he's mine"

Jack smirked slightly at Y/n's response, he understood why she defended her father. It was normal to want to defend someone despite their flaws and behaviour. but he couldn't help but wonder what kind of father would treat his daughter like Y/n's father did. Locking her away for having an interest, treating her like she's just for baby making… Jack couldn't help but feel disdain towards Y/n's father,

Jack glanced at Y/n again, he couldn't help but let out a slight chuckle when he saw the amount of blood on her hands. Some had even splattered on the delicate material of her outfit. Jack found it both endearing and amusing. He knew that a lady like her wouldn't want blood on her clothes but at the same time there was something captivating about seeing a doll like her with bloodied hands. A doll he pondered, she reminds him of a doll, the sweet polcerline and china dolls lined in toy store windows in sweet dresses with perfect hair. But now she looked like a haunted doll covered in blood with a wicked little smile, Jack continued working, still observing Y/n with mild amusement.

she happily sat watching him work, "hummm…" She ponders "sorry… I'll be quiet doctor Dawkins"

Jack shook his head, no longer laughing as Y/n tried to apologise.

"No, no, Y/n no apologies." He gave her a fond smile, "Don't apologise or get shy for your enjoyment. iT’S fascinating, especially when you don't hide them as much as most girls do." He glanced at Y/n, "If I was to be honest, your unique thoughts is probably why I find you so fascinating. The way you think isn't like most ladies. And I honestly find it endearing, especially your thoughts on corpses and science."

she blushed a little

"That's that done." Jack said with a smile.

she nodded "all done, slightly disappointing to put all that work in just to bury him"

Jack looked down at the body and nodded, he couldn't disagree with her there. "Yes, it is a strange thing. We spend all that time looking into a dead body, yet at the end we just bury them and move on to the next mystery." Jack then looked at Y/n, "There's something I've been wanting to ask you."

"yes doctor Dawkins?" She asked cleaning off her hands

Jack smirked as he watched Y/n clean her hands of blood. He knew most ladies wouldn't even want to touch blood with a ten foot pole, and yet Y/n was happy to just sit with her hands in blood, cutting up a body. If it was any other woman, Jack would find it unsettling. But on Y/n it just seemed endearing. "I have noticed that you have a very interesting way of thinking Y/n. In regard to the supernatural and life." He commented.

"I do?"

Jacks nodded, his smirk widening, "Yes you do. You don't seem to be afraid of the mysteriousness of life. I've also noticed you have an interest in death and corpses." His tone was gentle, he was still slightly amused by the amount of dried blood on the dainty young lady. He couldn't help but find her doll like appearance coupled with her thoughts endearing. "You are definitely not like most young ladies."

"I guess not…" She said but her tone turned sad as she finished cleaning her hands even if the blood had left a slight red stain on her pale skin "your going to tell me it's unbecoming of a lady too? Tell me I should use my wine to find a good husband…" She sighed "I wouldn't bother you anymore if you don't want me to doctor Dawkins"

Jacks expression immediately darkened at her response and he reached out and cupped Y/n's cheeks with his hands. He couldn't stand her being sad. "Please don't ever think for a second that I wish for you to stop coming here. You're a fascinating girl. I look forward to your visits." Now his tone was softer and slightly affectionate, "And don't you dare think that you're unbecoming of a lady, you're perfect just how you are. Don't listen to anyone who says otherwise."

she blushed hard her freckled cheeks turned pink, but she stepped back so his hands left her cheeks "thank you doctor Dawkins…"

Jack smiled gently as Y/n blushed at his compliment. He hoped he had managed to prevent her from feeling upset. However, he couldn't help but feel slight disappointment when she stepped back, it felt nice holding her cheek and seeing her blush. "You're welcome Miss Y/L/N." His smile widened and then he smirked, "I do hope you still come and visit my morgue."

"I hope to doctor Dawkins" she nodded "thank you so much for such a lovely day, I hope you have a nice rest of your evening" she smiled

Jacks smiled once more in response and watched as Y/n prepared to exit the morgue. He couldn't help but feel slightly… Disappointed she was leaving already. Sure Jack was normally glad when work was over, but this time he felt like he didn't want it to end and for Y/n to leave. He was starting to become fascinated with the unique and adorable young woman more and more.

She picked up her parasol and her small hat giving him a small polite curtsy before she heads out the morgue.

Jack watches her as she goes watching how her crinoline causes her lilac skirt to sway side to side as she walks, her Y/H/C curls and her little bow, he couldn't help thinking of her lavender scent, of her happy excited smile, of all the words they shared… Of the sight of her sewing the body, hands covered in blood, smiling and humming. Y/n… His little doll

He can't help thinking of her as his morbid macabre haunted little doll

Jacks stood watching Y/n leave the morgue, he couldn't help his eyes following her. As she left the room he felt something strange. He missed her already, and he couldn't help but notice how adorable she was when she did her little curtsy. How beautiful her dress swayed with her crinoline. He loved hearing her sweet little voice, every word she said fascinated him, and of course he couldn't help notice the way her hair fell slightly loose with her bow sitting just perfect.

… And then the realisation hit him. Oh dear.

Jacks felt an icy cold realisation wash over him as he stood there still watching the door Y/n had just left through. Oh…. No…. Not good… No….

Now he realised what this weird feeling was for Y/n.

He realised why he got so protective whenever Y/n mentioned her father.

He realised why he found her thoughts fascinating.

He… He…

He was starting to have feelings for Y/n.

Jack was completely dumbfounded by his recent realisation, and he felt a mixture of emotions.

Panic. Because if Y/n's father found out that he had feelings for her he would kill him.

Fear. Because he knew Y/n's father was the type of man to cause Y/n a lot of suffering for having feelings for someone he didn't approve of.

And… Hope? Because Jack knew that if he managed to win Y/n over he could possibly bring her away from that horrid man and into his arms where he could hold her close and let her watch autopsies and surgeries to the content of her morbid little haunted doll heart.

Oh… He definitely had feelings for Y/n.

[danika-redgrave124]

Umbra Witch Yuu Umbran Elegance Part 1

Heartslabyul

Fragrance: Queen's Dominion

Associated Weapon: Royal Reckoning

Scent Profile: A regal blend of red roses, black currant, and a hint of royal amber.

Bottle Design: The Bottle is shaped like a heart with a crown-shaped cap, adorned with tiny red and black gemstones.

Costume: Hearts Empress Ensemble

Overall Look: A Majestic red and black outfit with gold accents. The bodysuit features heart-shaped patterns and Royal embellishments.

Accessories: A golden tiara with heart-shaped rubies, black gloves with red lace, and thigh-high boots with intricate designs.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled into an elaborate updo with red and black highlights, adorned with a small crown.

Special Effects: When Yuu moves, trails of red and black sparkles follow them and during attacks, the projections of playing card suits appear.

Fragrance: Mad Hatter's Delight

Associated Weapon: Wonderland Edge

Scent Profile: A whimsical blend of lavender, vanilla and a hint of citrus tea.

Bottle Design: The Bottle is teapot-shaped with playing card motifs and a blue and white color scheme.

Costume: Tea Time Ensemble

Overall Look: A fanciful blue and white outfit with teacup and playing card motifs. The bodysuit features whimsical patterns and playful embellishments.

Accessories: A miniature top hat adorned with blue ribbon and playing cards, white gloves with lavender and knee high boots with teacup designs.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled into playful curls with blue highlights.

Special Effects: When Yuu moves, trails of sparkling blue and white particles followed them, and during attacks, curious and unpredictable magical effects appear.

Fragrance: Feline Mystique

Associated Weapon: Smile Tails

Scent Profile: A mysterious blend of night Jasmine, black cherry and a hint of smoky vanilla

Bottle Design: The Bottle is shaped like a cat's face with a wide, mischievous grin. It features purple and pink stripes and glow faintly in the dark.

Costume: Whimsical Mirage Ensemble

Overall Look: A sleek eerie outfit with a purple and pink color scheme. The bodysuit features swirling patterns and a glowing ethereal quality.

Accessories: A choker with a grinning cat charm, Fingerless gloves with claw-like tips, and knee-high boots with striped patterns.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled into wild, flowing curls with purple and pink highlights, giving a mischievous and otherworldly appearance.

Special Effects: When Yuu moves, trails of glowing swirling mist follow them and during attacks, illusionary copies of the blades appear and disappear with a mischievous smile.

Savanaclaw

Fragrance: Primal Instinct

Associated Weapon: Predator's Claws

Scent: A fierce blend of wild sandalwood, smoky vetiver, and a hint of spiced amber.

Bottle Design: The Bottle is shaped like a sleek claw with dark, shadowy etchings, and a cap resembling a predator's paw.

Costume: Shadow Prowler Ensemble

Overall Look: A sleek, dark outfit inspired by the stealth and power of a predator. The bodysuit features black and dark green colors with subtle paw print patterns and a flowing, shadowy cape.

Accessories: A headpiece with a sleek design resembling cat ears, clawed gloves, and boots with retractable claws.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled into a wild, untamed look, giving them a figure and predatory appearance.

Special Effects: When Yuu moves, shadows trail behind them, and during attacks, the dark, shadowy etchings on their claws glow menacingly.

Fragrance: Wild Majesty

Associated Weapon: Pride Pounce

Fragrance: Wild Majesty

Scent Profile: A vibrant blend of acacia blossom, warm amber and a hint of wild grasses.

Bottle Design: The Bottle is shaped like a lioness head with golden accents, adorned with motifs of the savannah.

Costume: Savannah Queen Ensemble

Overall Look: A regal outfit inspired by the savannah, with golden and earthy tones. The bodysuit features intricate patterns resembling savannah landscapes and lioness motifs.

Accessories: A headdress with a lioness design, clawed gauntlets, and boots with subtle golden accents.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled in flowing waves with golden highlights, giving them a Majestic and wild appearance.

Special Effects: When Yuu moves, dust and golden particles swirl around them, and during attacks shockwaves mimic the Roar of a lioness.

Octavinelle

Fragrance: Ocean's Embrace

Associated Weapon: Tidebreaker's Grasp

Scent Profile: A refreshing blend of sea breeze, saltwater and a hint of oceanic florals.

Bottle Design: The Bottle is shaped like a conch shell with gold and teal accents, adorned with intricate seashell motifs.

Costume Abyssal Sovereign Ensemble

Overall Look: A Majestic Outfit inspired by the ocean depths, with a dark, swirling color palettes of deep purples and teals. The bodysuit features seashell and wave patterns, with a flowing translucent cape that mimics ocean currents.

Acessories: A crown adorned with sea-themed jewels and boots with seashell designs.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled in elegant waves with deep purple highlights, giving them a regal and oceanic appearance.

Special Effects: When Yuu moves, waves and water droplets trail behind them, and during attacks, surges of water and swirling currents appear.

Fragrance: Melodic Tides

Associated Weapon: Oceanic Sonata

Scent Profile: A captivating blend of ocean mist, lavender and a hint of tropical flowers.

Bottle Design: The Bottle is shaped like a seashell with purple accents, adorned with musical notes and ocean-themed designs.

Costume: Sea Enchantress Ensemble

Overall Look: A graceful outfit inspired by the ocean and musical harmony, featuring flowing frabics and a color palette of sea green, red and purple. The bodysuit is decorated with intricate seashell and musical note patterns.

Accessories: A headpiece with seashells and musical notes and elegant, wave patterned boots.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled in flowing, cascading waves, evoking the image of a mermaid.

Special Effects: When Yuu moves, musical notes and water droplets trail behind them, and during attacks, melodies and aquatic creatures appear, enhancing the visual and auditory experience.

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

“There was a small pool of water in front of me,” Lucy continues. She dusts off her gloves to reach for a new sunflower, carefully removing the plastic bottom. “I could tell it was transparent, but when I got closer, all I could see was my reflection.”

A fond smile drifts onto her lips. “For a moment, there was a hand on my shoulder.” Lucy carefully places the sunflower into the soil’s spacious dent, patting the dirt around it. “Lavender-skinned and dotted with infinite stars.”

I’m sorry I cannot offer you rest, a voice whispered, lost in the wind. But I hope I can at least offer you peace.

Kristen takes a deep breath. Lucy slides off her gloves and moves closer, gently pressing their shoulders together.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you,” Kristen finally says, hushed and solemn.

Lucy leans the side of her head against Kristen’s. “You did everything you could.” Another smile, sorrowful and bittersweet, falls upon her features. “We’ve all got our own regrets to carry.”

A pause.

“Kipperlilly?” Kristen asks, quiet. Not judgmental. Unusually gentle.

Lucy nods. “I wonder where she is right now.” She feels Kristen lace their fingers together. “Hell? Ankarna’s new domain? Banished somewhere else altogether?”

“I’m sorry,” Kristen says again. She winces. “Maybe… Maybe not that she died, but for what you lost because of it.”

“Can I be honest with you?” Lucy’s mouth is dry. “I’ve been thinking about trying to bring her back.” She closes her eyes, steeling herself against tears. “But I don’t know what version of her I might resurrect.”

“You’re afraid to look her in the eyes,” Kristen whispers, and Lucy’s chest aches. “You’re afraid you won’t recognize who… or what you see.”

—an excerpt from my post-canon frostkettle wip where lucy brings kipperlilly back through divine intervention

[theghostparty]

Roméo et Juliette: de la Haine à l'Amour - Redesign - 2024

To understand my completely unnecessary desire to redesign a musical that is over twenty years old, you have to understand that Romeo et Juliette is my Roman Empire. Long explanation under the break.

I wanted this design to be an homage in the silliest way possible.

I really leant into the sensibilities of original costume designer Dominique Borg, who used contemporary colour and technique and applied it to historical (or pseudo-historical) silhouettes.

Broadly, I wanted the Montagues to feel English in their shapes--Elizabethan doublets, high necklines, and ruffs, in homage to Shakespeare and the source text. They're all leather, denim, silver hardware--a little bit punk with status.

The Capulets would be deeply Italian Renaissance in their silhouettes, in reference to the setting of the play. They're all velvets, lace, chiffon, satins, and gold hardware--giving them an airiness of the Mediterranean while still allowing some drape here and there.

I wanted each family to have a slightly more broad palette than most versions afford them--which is why the Montagues have a smattering of green and magenta while the Capulets play with some soft yellows and lavenders.

The ball scene is largely Arthurian in inspiration--just because I took the idea of "what would the 1500s consider vintage and costume-y in the same way we think of the Victorian era" and ran away with it. There's also some silly Y2K nonsense because I rewatched the "On dit dans la rue" music video and thought "What if the Capulets threw this big Arthurian affair with full elegance and the Montagues cobbled together some gay club outfits circa 1998 fits out of a suit of armour."

FINALLY, I wanted Roméo and Juliette to take on elements of each other's family's style and colours for the end of the play--because to be loved is to be changed.

So here is a breakdown of my choices for each of the looks.

Un Jour: Here we see Roméo in his base look. It's a two-tone patent leather double with multiple zipper details. The peplum is criss-crossed zippers. The wings over the shoulder seams are edged with zipper teeth. The ruff detail at the neckline is also edged with zipper teeth. He has along zipper across the front of his boot like he's trying to be the next Sailor Moon. I don't know y'all. I went a little feral with trying to figure out all the places I could put zippers in.

Juliette is the most juvenile looking in Un Jour. I imagine that in this scene, she's being dressed by her family instead of her own volition.

She's in an asymmetrical, empire-waisted gown that is likely a brocaded or printed silk. Her chemise is a sheer lavender georgette or chiffon that peaks through the lacing at the shoulders and along the upper arms. She has a velvet choker and velvet belt and a heavily stoned velvet headband. Her hairstyling (it would have to be a wig, it would be NUTS to not make this a wig) is an homage to the open-weave Juliet caps that were similar to nets worn in the period on hair. Italy was, fun fact, one of the few countries where women didn't cover their hair during the renaissance.

L'amour heureux: As I explained above, Roméo's outfit is so silly. The wrap around glasses. The one arm of armour. The sheer, stoned period shirt. The gold brocade on the trousers. The pearl earring. The many, unnecessary belts. Bless this mess. It's also a cheeky little nod to Baz Lurhmann's Romeo + Juliet.

Juliette is, ostensibly, cosplaying as Guinevere or Lady Macbeth or Ophelia or any number of Middle Ages women. The ball is the Capulet's opportunity to really sell their daughter as marriage material so I wanted the look to feel bridal, hence the veil. I wanted to give reference to exaggerated surcote sleeves without actually doing them, hence the sleeve-into-glove and bow detailing with trails down to the floor. There is also a hint of yellow chemise underneath, which is actually just her Le balcon look underdressed for ease of the quick change (yes, I did think about this.) The dress is velvet with one panel of lace in-set into the underskirt. The bows are satin-face organza.

Le balcon: Romeo would change into his base again (during Le Poète). Juliette is in a simple yet totally impractical sheer chemise + slip combo. I wanted this soft yellow for this sequence because I always think about the lines "O she doth teach the torches to burn bright!" and "But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?/It is the east and Juliet is the sun" when it comes to describing her. The chemise would likely be a chiffon, while the slip would be silk.

Aimer: I say this with my whole chest--I hate how they changed the palette for Aimer in the 2010 production. I want my lovers soft and angelic and matching in this moment of union. Here we see a bit more of Romeo's lace shirt--his sleeves are laced like Juliette's in the first look. His doublet, trouser, boot combo are off-white leather in homage to the original production. Juliette's dress has a similar train length to her ball look (again, bridal) and we see the neckline creep up into a ruff (Elizabethan, rather than Italian). Lots of sheer net and lace with cream bridal satin as a skirt. Tiered sleeves. A little circlet on her head.

Le poison: Honestly? Just wanted her to have another outfit change before her death dress as a transitional choice. There's so much more of the purple in this look because it's going to take us into the blue elements of the final dress.

La mort de Roméo/Juliette: Again. To be loved is to be changed. Juliette has a dropped waistline, a high neckline and ruff, and a heart shaped cut-out detail (see: boob window). She's straight up in blue, and all the sweet and soft pinks of her youth are gone. Romeo has lost his high neckline, ruff, wins, and peplum in favour of a shorter Italian silhouette. He's asymmetrical (a call-back to Juliette's asymmetry) and all the edging detail is done in red. Mantua as a setting is patchworked, torn, and dirty, so I imagine the doublet is pieced together from scraps of jersey (so it's drippy and sad and hangs off him in a lovely manner).

[moonchild-in-blue]

sleepsona stuff i guess

something clicked for me last night and new pinterest album has been created. messy drafts that make little sense, need to sort out. posting here because why not, we're taking notes live lmao.

Lilac/amethyst/lavender colour with black ; nebulas and thunderstorms ; smeells sweet like lavender and honey? ; xxvii maybe ; luna moth wings shape but with butterfly coloration in purple/lilac - maybe as a cloak maybe fr ; dawn blue light hour / dusk ; fields of elation song ; gloves to protect skin??? ; horns ?? fangs ?? ; third eye or maybe 4 ; violin/cello ; sweet ; mask wings shape ; black lace and dresses ; purple eyes ; old vessel that gave up soul megara style poor baby she's ancient and sad ; sings but softly ; black sand beaches and pink/purple skies ; butterflies

what's her name? who knows, certainly not me - something cool, space inspired perhaps. or i can just be my usual unoriginal self and name yet another oc after a greek myth figure lmao. you'd be surprised how many of those i have lol