#model fashion dress 18 year old model

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 7: Apollo, God Of Music]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 8.7k

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“My uncle, he is a doctor in Zabrze,” Ludwika says, red Yardley lips, Camel cigarette. No one cares if she smokes; she’s not campaigning to be the next first lady. Fosco is puffing on a cigar. Mimi sips drowsily at her Gimlet; you could use a few shots, but you’re making do with a Pink Squirrel, something sweet and feminine and without any bite. “So I go to him and he gives me a bottle of chlordiazepoxide.”

“Oh, Librium,” Mimi says, perking up.

Ludwika waves her hand dismissively; cigarette smoke wafts through the air. “Whatever. The next day I have my audition. A tiny man who thinks he’s God. And I give it a real shot, I try my best, I’m nice, I’m charming, but he doesn’t like me. He says my teeth are too big, like a mouse’s. This is very rude. I did not comment on his fidgety little rat hands. But okay, no problem, I have a plan. No one will stop me from getting out of Poland.”

“You drugged him?” you ask, incredulous, grinning.

“You are a criminal,” Fosco tells Ludwika. “I will call J. Edgar Hoover, you should not be so close to positions of power.”

“Listen, listen,” Ludwika insists. “Here is what I do. I thank him very much for his consideration, and then as I leave I drop my purse and things go everywhere. I filled it before I left my apartment, of course. Anything I could find, empty lipstick tubes and perfume bottles, old makeup compacts with broken mirrors, coins, hair pins, tissues, pens, gum, Krówki candies, it is an avalanche. And when he bends down to help me pick up the mess—I have to encourage him, ‘oh sir won’t you grab that, I am just a stupid girl in a very short dress,’ you understand—I put the pills in his tea.”

“How many pills?” you ask.

“I don’t know. You think I had time to count? Maybe seven.”

“Seven?!” Mimi exclaims, and you take this to mean it was a generous dose.

“What? He did not die,” Ludwika says. “I wait two days and then I go back to his office. And it is so strange, can you believe it, he does not remember my audition! So I remind him that he thought I would be perfect for the ad he is shooting in Paris. He keeps squinting at me and saying ‘are you sure, are you sure?!’ Of course I’m sure! A week later, I am standing under the Eiffel Tower with a bottle of Coca-Cola. And then I book a job in London, and then another in New York City, and one of my new model friends sets me up on a blind date with Otto. Lunch in Astoria at a horrible Greek restaurant. Who wants to eat pie made out of spinach?! Now I am here with you people, and the journalists love when I smile for them with my big mouse teeth.”

All four of you laugh at your table, an elite club, the ones who married in. It’s Alicent’s 60th birthday, and the ballroom of the Texas State Hotel in downtown Houston is raucous with clinking glasses and chatter and music and the shutter clicks of photographers. The DJ is playing Fun, Fun, Fun by the Beach Boys. Alicent is dancing with Helaena and the children, and it’s the happiest you can ever remember seeing her. Otto, Aemond, and Sargent Shriver are deep in conversation by the bar, furrowed brows and Old Fashioneds, today’s newspapers and tomorrow’s itinerary. Criston is standing with the men but watching Alicent, face wistful, silver streaks in his jet black hair, and it occurs to you that they must have grown up together: Alicent a 19-year-old bride and Criston her husband’s fledgling bodyguard, the person closest to her age in the household, near and trusted and forbidden, orbiting adolescent twins like Artemis and Apollo. You keep looking around for Aegon. No one else seems aware that he’s gone.

“Otto thought he died and went to heaven when he found you,” you tell Ludwika. “His Eastern Bloc defector princess.”

“He is going to bring my mother to the States. I would be anything he wanted me to be. I would be a model, or a housewife, or a nurse. I would be Bigfoot! But this…” Ludwika gestures broadly: to the ballroom, the city, the latest stop on the campaign trail. “It is not so bad. I never expected to serve the Polish people so far from home. You know how you stop communism? You show the world that capitalism can do more for them. There must be a path to a better life, wars must be ended, injustices must be dealt with. Aemond will do that.” She grins at you, exhaling smoke through her nostrils. “You will help him.”

You reply a bit wryly: “It’s an honor.”

“We are like four legs of a table,” Fosco observes. He points at Ludwika with his smoldering cigar. “You are a Slav fleeing the Russians. My family has ancient titles in Italy and yet no castles, no land, we are essentially homeless. Mimi’s father is a third-generation oil tycoon from Pennsylvania. And she was supposed to fix Aegon.”

“I don’t think I succeeded,” Mimi confesses.

“And then when it was time for Aemond to get married…” Fosco turns to Mimi. “Do you remember? What an ordeal. The discussions went on and on and on. She must be smart, she must be sinless, she should be from a self-made family, a real rags-to-riches story of the American Dream.”

“Right.” Mimi nods groggily, reminiscing. “And from the South.”

“Yes! But not the Deep South. No, no. Someplace Aemond could actually win. Texas, Tennessee, North Carolina. Or Florida, of course.” Now Fosco notices how you’re looking at him, because you’ve never heard this before. He quickly pivots. “But the weekend Aemond met you, it was settled. Nobody could compare.”

His tone is odd; it suggests backstories, history, mythology. Ludwika appears to be just as intrigued as you are, taking a drag off her Camel, her eyes narrowing until they are thin and catlike. You ask: “Who else was being considered?”

“No one,” Fosco answers—too quickly—and he and Mimi exchange an uneasy glance.

What did Aemond and I talk about the night we met? you think dizzily. In those first hours, minutes, thirty seconds? Where I’m from. What I was studying.

Fosco, a true Italian, then attempts to deflect by flirting. He makes emphatic, passionate motions with his hands. “You were just so captivating, so clever…”

“And young enough that Aemond could easily beat Aegon’s record of five children,” Mimi adds. Fosco clears his throat and glares at her. Mimi realizes what she’s said and gazes forlornly down into her Gimlet, mortified, groaning softly. You’ve had one c-section already, and no living son to show for it. At most, you might be able to give Aemond two or three more children; and you don’t even want them. You want Ari back. You want to touch him, to hold him, even if only for a moment, even if only once.

“It’s fine,” you try to reassure Mimi, but everyone can tell it’s not.

Ludwika breaks the tension. “You do not want twenty kids anyway. Your uterus will fall out onto the floor.” And you’re so caught off-guard that all you can do is smile at her from across the table, knowing, appreciative. It’s a strange thing to be grateful for.

“She’s right,” Mimi says mournfully. “They had to sew mine back in.”

Fosco pleads: “Stop, stop, I will need a lobotomy.”

Mimi slurps on her Gimlet. “It’s sad. I used to love sex.”

“Mimi, please,” Fosco says, wincing, holding up his palms. “You are like my sister. I prefer to think you are the Virgin Mary.”

Ludwika sighs dramatically and looks to where Otto stands on the other side of the ballroom. “I used to love sex too.”

Now you’re all howling again, rocking back in your chairs. The DJ is playing Go Where You Wanna Go by the Mamas and the Papas. Cass Elliot is the real talent in that group and everybody knows it, but of course any mention of her must be dutifully accompanied by: If only she was more beautiful. If only she could lose weight and find a husband.

“I think you like it, yes?” Ludwika says to you like a dare, puffing on a fresh Camel, red lipstick staining the white paper, blood on sheets. She combs her manicured fingernails though her voluminous blonde hair. “I could tell when I met you. You dress like Jackie Kennedy, but you are not such a statue. She belongs in a museum. I can imagine you at the Summer of Love.”

Fosco and Mimi shift uncomfortably. It’s not the sort of thing they would ever ask you. It’s too personal, too easily a segue into criticizing Aemond. It’s a usurpation of the natural order. Mimi guzzles her Gimlet and flags down a waiter to get another. Fosco takes off his glasses and cleans them with his skinny black necktie.

Sex. You think back to before you began to dread it. This is difficult, like trying to remember Greek words or British manners, which fork to use with each course. Memories from another lifetime come back in flashes: tangled up with your first boyfriend in his tiny dorm room bed, Aemond peeling off your still-dripping swimsuit on the floor of your hotel room during your honeymoon in Hawaii. You shrug and give Ludwika a nod, a brisk, ungenerous answer in the affirmative. “I always feel like I could keep going.”

Paradoxically, this does not end the conversation. Ludwika, Fosco, and Mimi study you with the same bewildered, gear-spinning curiosity. After a moment Ludwika says: “Not after you’ve finished, surely. I am half dead by the end if it’s good.”

“Finished?” you ask, puzzled. All three of them gawk at you, then at each other.

Aegon breezes into the ballroom wearing the Gibson guitar he bought in Manhattan, blue like the Caribbean or the Mediterranean or the crystalline waves off the coast of Hawaii, dotted with fish and sea turtles. Your eyes go to him immediately and stay there; you can feel the swirling warmth of blood in your cheeks. As Aegon passes the table, he squeezes your shoulder—brief, familiar, welcome—and Fosco raises his thick eyebrows. Mimi is too busy gulping down her Gimlet to notice. Ludwika chuckles, low and wicked, then slides a makeup compact out of her Prada purse to check her lipstick. Aegon goes to the DJ and yells something over the music. He’s fucked up already, you can tell, pills or booze or both.

Fosco stops a passing waiter. “Signore, did you hear who won the United Nations Handicap?”

The waiter stares blankly back at him. “What?”

“The turf race at Monmouth Park. I have $200 on Dr. Fager.”

The DJ abruptly cuts off the music. Aegon gives his guitar a few practice strums to make sure it’s in tune. He stumbles when he walks, he lurches and sways. His blonde hair sticks to the sweat on his forehead. He is woefully underdressed. His white shirt is half-unbuttoned, his denim shorts tattered; on his feet he wears black moccasins. There is a small gold hoop in each of his ears. Otto keeps telling Aegon to take them out, and every time Aegon ignores him.

“Happy birthday, Mom,” you hear him say to Alicent, and she presses a palm to her heart, her dark eyes wide and shining. “When I first heard this, it made me think of you.”

Otto and Sargent Shriver—the aspiring vice president—are glowering at Aegon. Aemond smirks as he nips at an Old Fashioned, amused; but he makes sharp, intentional eye contact with each of the three journalists. You will tell the right version of this story, he means. You will not print anything we wouldn’t want written, or my family will be your enemies for life.

As soon as Aegon plucks the first few chords, you recognize the song. “Oh, that’s really funny.”

“What?” Fosco asks.

“It’s Mama Tried.” You stand and begin clapping, then motion for the rest of the table to do the same. They obey without protest, though Mimi can’t seem to keep track of the beat. Aegon is beaming as he sings.

“The first thing I remember knowin’

Was a lonesome whistle blowin’

And a youngin’s dream of growin’ up to ride

On a freight train leavin’ town

Not knowin’ where I'm bound

And no one could change my mind but Mama tried.”

Cosmo sprints over from where he had been dancing with Alicent. He grabs your hand and tugs you towards the center of the floor. “Let’s go, let’s go!” he shouts impatiently.

“Call the FBI, I’m being kidnapped,” you say to Fosco and Ludwika as you let Cosmo drag you away.

“One and only rebel child

From a family meek and mild

My Mama seemed to know what lay in store

Despite all my Sunday learnin’

Towards the bad I kept on turnin’

‘Til Mama couldn’t hold me anymore.”

At the heart of the ballroom, Criston has swooped in to dance with Alicent, slow chaste circling. Helaena has floated off to the bar to chat with Otto, who keeps all his smiles for her. The children—Targaryens and Shrivers alike—are stomping and cheering and alternating between various moves: the Mashed Potato, the Twist, the Swim, the Loco-Motion, the Watusi, the Pony in pairs. Aemond whistles to a photographer and then nods to where you are holding onto one of Cosmo’s tiny hands as he spins around at lawless, breakneck speed. Of course this would make for a good image: you being maternal, you promising the American people that they will one day have not only a first lady but a first family.

“And I turned 21 in prison doin’ life without parole

No one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried

Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading I denied

That leaves only me to blame ‘cause Mama tried.”

Cameras flash and the crowd keeps clapping. Cosmo giggles wildly each time he almost falls and you pull him back to his feet. There is a hand skimming around your waist, a listless powder blue dress your husband chose for you. Aemond replaces Cosmo as your dance partner. Aegon’s 10-year-old daughter Violeta spirits Cosmo away; Aemond reels you in close, one palm pressed into the small of your back, his left hand gripping your right. When you steal a glimpse of Aegon—still strumming, still singing—he doesn’t look so triumphant anymore. His grin is frozen and artificial. His drunk muddy eyes go steely.

“I need you to do something for me,” Aemond begins.

Of course, you once would have said. Anything. “What is it?”

“I want you to cut your hair like Jackie.”

You’re so stunned your feet stop moving. Aemond coaxes you back into the steps. “No.”

“Think about how much more versatile it would be. Jackie is an icon, she’s sophisticated, she’s mature.”

“If you wanted a wife in her thirties, you could have easily found one.”

“Honey—”

“I do everything you ask,” you say, barely more than a whisper. “Everything. I wear what you want me to. I go where you want me to. I spend ten hours a week getting my hair fixed. I keep it up, I keep it presentable. But I’m not chopping it off.”

“You’re never going to be able to wear it down anyway,” Aemond counters, so calm, so rational, like your skull is nothing but incendiary feminine mania. “If I win, you’ll be surrounded by staff and journalists for years. You can’t be photographed with it down, you look about eighteen. And like you live on a park bench in Haight-Ashbury.”

“It’s my hair. I’m keeping it.”

Aemond leans in and says, cold and severe: “You’re my wife, and everything that’s yours belongs to me.” Then he kisses your cheek as cameras click and strobe. “Think about it. Now smile.”

You force yourself to. The crowd applauds as Aegon finishes singing and flees the dancefloor. The DJ puts on Light My Fire by The Doors. You and Aemond leave in opposite directions: he goes to talk to Eunice Kennedy, who is hugging her 3-year-old son Anthony to her chest; you return to your table to drain the last of your Pink Squirrel. You need something stronger. You need to be alone so you can collect yourself.

Now Aegon has shed his guitar and is standing with his back to the wall, smoking a Lucky Strike and talking to some campaign staffer—she looks like a girl, but she’s probably your age—who is gazing up at him worshipfully. She says something that makes him laugh, his head thrown back, his eyes sparkling, and you feel like you’re waking up from your c-section all over again, your belly split open and rearranged, aching, stabbing, nauseous.

“Are you okay?” Ludwika asks, scrutinizing you.

“I’m perfect. I’ll be right back.”

You hurry out of the ballroom, the music fading behind you. You slip into one of the elevators in the lobby and hit the button for the top floor, where Aemond’s entourage has booked every suite. As the door is closing—as only a foot of space remains—Aegon shoves his way into the elevator, startling you. The door shuts behind him and you begin the ascent. Aegon slams the red emergency stop button, and the elevator jolts to a halt.

“What the hell are you doing—?!”

“What pissed you off, huh?” Aegon taunts, stepping closer. You back away from him until you run out of room; not because you want the distance, but because you’re afraid of what you’ll do if it’s gone.

“Nothing. I’m so great, I’ve never been better, can’t you tell?”

He’s so close you can feel the heat rising off his flushed skin, you can see the miles-deep murky blue of his irises, open water, shipwrecks and drowning. “You want all this to be over? You want the women with their big, adoring eyes and their short skirts to disappear? Grow up. Stop acting like a kid. Ask for it.”

“Ask for what?”

“You know.”

If you touch him now, you won’t be able to stop. There’s nowhere for us to go. There’s no way out of this family, this year, this world. “I don’t. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Aegon barks out a sardonic, cutting laugh. “Yeah, you’re definitely 23.”

“I thought you loved girls young enough to be your daughters. Isn’t that what gets you hard?”

“You’re a fucking coward.”

“You’re sweating on me, you pig.”

“You want it so bad,” Aegon whispers as he presses himself against you, his ribs and thighs and hips, and you clutch for the walls of the elevator so you don’t reach for him instead. His left hand is tearing your hair out of its clips and pins so it falls free like you used to wear it; the right is all over your face, your jaw, your chin, your cheeks, touching you ceaselessly, ravenously, a blind man reading chronicles of braille. You’re trying to turn away from him, but he keeps pulling you back in. You’re breathing his rum and nicotine, you’re gasping in low, starved moans. It might be more intimate than kissing, than sex. He’s already felt your body. What he asks for now is your soul. His words are warm and aching as he murmurs through loosed strands of your hair: “Tell me you want it, please, just tell me, just tell me, tell me and it’s yours.”

Your palms land on his bare, damp chest, and Aegon starts unfastening the last buttons of his shirt. Instead, you push him away. Aegon lets you. He surrenders. “I can’t,” you choke out. You hit the red button, and the elevator resumes its rise to the top floor of the hotel.

“I’m really fucked up right now,” he says with sudden realization, swaying, staring down at his feet like he fears he’ll lose track of them.

“I’m aware.”

“I’m sorry. I think…I think I wanted that to happen differently.”

“I can’t trust you when you’re like this,” you say. I feel like I can’t trust anyone. Aegon looks up at you, his glassy eyes large and wounded. When the elevator door opens, you step out and he stays in, riding it back to the lobby.

In the suite you share with Aemond, you turn on the radio and spin the dial until you find a Loretta Lynn song. You go to the minibar cabinet and down two tiny glass bottles of vodka, something that won’t make you smell like too much of a drunk. You’ll have to fix your hair before you go back to the ballroom; you’ll have to change your dress. You’re painted with Aegon’s sweat and smoke. You can’t risk your husband noticing. You slide open the top drawer of the nightstand on your side of the bed and take out the card you keep there, the one that travels with you to each stop on the campaign trail. Loretta Lynn croons from the radio, wronged and wrathful.

“If you don’t wanna go to Fist City

You’d better detour around my town

‘Cause I’ll grab you by the hair of your head

And I’ll lift you off of the ground

I'm not a-sayin’ my baby is a saint, ‘cause he ain’t

And that he won’t cat around with a kitty

I’m here to tell you, gal, to lay off of my man

If you don’t wanna go to Fist City.”

You lie on the floor and peer up at the card in your hands: jubilant cartoon cow, festive party hat. You know exactly what’s written on the inside; it’s etched into your memory like myths passed down through millennia. Nevertheless, you read it again. The original message is still crossed out, and there’s an addendum below it in hasty black ink: I thought this was blank…congrats on the new calf!

You graze your thumbprint across Aegon’s scrawled signature. It’s smudged now. You do this a lot. One day his name might disappear altogether from the stark white parchment, from memory.

You close the card and hug it to your chest like a mother holds a living child.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What’s going on between you and Aegon?”

Alarmed, you meet Aemond’s gaze, two reflections in the vanity mirror. It’s the next morning, and you’re finishing up your makeup. Your dress and jacket are striped with black and white, your jewelry is silver, chains on your wrists and small tasteful hoops in your ears. “Nothing.” There is a lull you have to fill before it becomes suspicious. “He’s been helpful, he’s been…you know. Ever since Mount Sinai.”

Aemond adjusts his cerulean blue tie, studying himself in the mirror. He’s still wearing his leather eyepatch. Putting in his glass eye is the last thing he does before leaving the suite each day. “He was a comfort to you.”

“Well, he was there.”

“Because I told him to be,” Aemond says, resting his hands on the back of your chair. “Someone had to stay at Asteria to keep tabs on things, to let me know what you were up to. Aegon was the most expendable. Mimi and the kids make for good photos, but Aegon…he’s not especially endearing to the public. Those few years as the mayor of Trenton just about ruined him. I’d love to make him the attorney general if I win, but I don’t think the people would stomach it. Maybe if he behaves himself he can have the job for my second term.”

Eight years, you think, unable to fathom it. Eight years in a fishbowl. Eight years lying under Aemond as he tries to get me pregnant with children neither of us can love.

Aemond leans down to touch his lips to the side of your throat. “I’m glad you’re finally friends,” he says. “Aegon’s not all bad. But don’t let him get you in trouble.”

“I wouldn’t.” What did you and Aemond talk about before Ari died? What was this marriage built on? The senate, the presidency, civil rights, poverty, the Space Race, Vietnam, Greek mythology. Everything but each other. Dreams and ideals that would dwarf any mortal, would render them invisible.

“And watch out for any reporters from the Wall Street Journal. They’d kill for Nixon. If they can twist your words, they will.” He gets something from inside his own nightstand: the bloodstained komboskini from when he was shot in Palm Beach. He places it in your right hand, all 100 knots. “Give this to someone today. You know how to do it, you’ve always understood this part. Pick the right person, the right moment. Make sure there are plenty of cameras around.”

“Where am I going? Lunch with the mayor’s wife, that’s this afternoon, isn’t it?”

Aemond nods. “And a few other stops. Then we’re going to the Alamo in San Antonio tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

He recoils, reaches for the left half of his face, kneads the scar tissue there as nerve pain radiates through his flesh all the way down to the bone. Once you felt such agonizing pity for him; now all you can think about is the matching scar you wear on your belly, hidden and shameful and a badge of your inadequacies: your body too weak to protect Ari, your mind too pliable to resist being ensnared by the crushing gravity of this man, this family, this life.

“How can I help?” you ask Aemond, because it’s the right thing to do. And randomly, you find yourself remembering the statue of Apollo in Helaena’s garden back at Asteria, the god of music, healing, truth, prophesy.

“You can’t.” Aemond goes to the bathroom to force his glass eye into its socket. You depart for the hotel lobby where Ludwika and Mimi, your companions for the day, are already waiting. Ludwika is wearing a rose pink Chanel skirt suit. Mimi—relatively functional, as she hasn’t been awake long enough to ruin herself yet—is dressed in delicate dove grey.

Alicent, Helaena, and the children are scheduled to tour a local high school and library; Criston, unsurprisingly, is going with them. Aemond, accompanied by Otto, has a series of meetings with local business leaders and politicians. Aegon and Fosco are headed to the Michael E. DeBakey Veterans Affairs Medical Center to promise maimed soldiers that Aemond will end the war that carved out bits of them and filled the voids with screaming nightmares. The limousine you share with Ludwika and Mimi ferries you first to the NASA’s Manned Spacecraft Center. Mimi is entranced by the reflective surface of the helmets, coated with gold to divert blinding sunbeams; in turn, the astronauts are entranced by Ludwika, who leaves lipstick smudges on their cheeks when she kisses them. Next is a tea party hosted by Iola Faye Cure Welch, the mayoress of Houston since 1964 and the mother of five children. And as you nibble daintily at triangle-shaped sandwiches and trudge through small talk about flowers and furniture, you can’t stop smiling. You can’t stop thinking about how ridiculous Aegon would think this is if he was here.

The driver mentions one last stop, then coasts through midafternoon traffic towards the city center. You spend the ride touching up your hair and makeup. Ludwika offers to let you borrow her seduction-red lipstick; you politely decline. You step out of the limo and shield your eyes from the glare of the Texas sun. It takes your vision a moment to adjust, and then you realize where you are. The sign above the main entranceway reads: Houston Methodist Hospital. The air snags in your throat, your lungs are empty. Your hands tremble violently. The earth rocks beneath your white high heels. Mount Sinai is the last hospital you walked into, and you left with your son in a casket so small it could have been mistaken for a shoebox.

“Alright, let’s go,” Ludwika says, linking an arm through yours. Mimi, badly in need of a drink, is looking deflated and edgy. “We are almost done. And I have been promised a medium-rare steak for dinner! Mushrooms and onions too! The Statue of Liberty did not lie. This country is a golden door.”

“I can’t.”

Ludwika stares at you. “What?”

“I can’t, I can’t go in there.”

“What is she talking about?” Ludwika asks Mimi, who shakes her head, mystified.

“I can’t,” you whimper.

They’ve never seen you like this. They don’t know what to do. They listen to you, that is the hierarchy; but it’s too late to change course now. Journalists are approaching in a swarm. Nurses and doctors are gathering by the front door to welcome you.

He knew, you think, suddenly furious. Aemond knew, and he didn’t tell me.

“It will be okay,” Ludwika says, patting your back awkwardly. “We are here with you. Nothing bad will happen.”

“Oh,” Mimi breathes, understanding. She looks at you with sympathy that shimmers on the surface of the opaque, polluted lake of her mind. Then she catches Ludwika’s eye and skims a hand down her own slim midsection. Ari, she mouths, and Ludwika’s face falls.

The doctors and nurses are whistling and applauding; the journalists are snapping photos and scrounging for quotes. You feel your conditioning over the past two years taking over: straight posture, gentle smile, hands clasped demurely together. But you are locked away somewhere underneath.

“Do not worry,” Ludwika tells you softly. “We will talk, we will make it easier for you.” Then she and Mimi begin boisterously shaking hands and thanking people for coming as you make your way through the crowd of journalists and towards the main entrance of the hospital.

People are saying things to you, but you don’t really hear them. You reply with words you won’t remember afterwards. You nod frequently and go wherever you are led. Doctors are explaining new research into placenta previa and c-sections. Nurses are showing you a state-of-the-art NICU for premature infants. Someone is placing a baby in your arms, and you can’t do anything but accept it numbly. You can’t look down at it, you can’t allow yourself to feel the weight of some other woman’s child. You wear your smile like armor and let the photographers capture their snapshots, painting a frame around you, deciding where you live.

Then you are introduced to the parents, women in hospital beds and men perched in chairs beside them, just like the one where Aegon slept at Mount Sinai. They take your hands when you offer them and tell you about their small children, sick children, dying children. One patient just delivered twins. The first did not survive beyond a few hours, but the second is in an incubator and gaining strength. You recall the komboskini stained with Aemond’s blood and take it out of your purse, give it to the suffering mother, watch faith rise in her face like dawn over the Atlantic. But you won’t remember her. You cannot allow yourself to.

Outside as you, Ludwika, and Mimi are headed back to the limousine, the journalists make one last attempt to poach a headline-worthy quote. “Mrs. Targaryen! Mrs. Targaryen!” a young man shouts, clambering to the front of the horde and jabbing a microphone in your face. “I’m from the Houston Chronicle. Can you tell me how the senator feels about the failure of the most recent phase of the Tet Offensive?”

You are in a fog; you don’t feel real, this moment and this city don’t feel real, and so you cannot remember what Aemond would want you to say. “The Vietnam War has claimed too many lives already. We should have never sent our men there to die. But since that is done, the best thing we can do now is end the draft immediately and then withdrawal from the region as soon as the South Vietnamese are able to defend their own territory, which is their responsibility.” The journalist already considers this effort fruitful and begins to retreat, but you have one last point to make. Ludwika and Mimi watch you anxiously. “I lost someone in Vietnam. I met him when I was in college. He had a good heart, and he joined because he thought it was wrong for poor men to have to fight while rich kids got exemptions, and he was killed in action in October of 1965.”

“This was a friend?” the journalist asks, eyes glowing hungrily. Then he adds as an afterthought: “I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

“A boyfriend. Corporal Cameron Marino from Schenectady, New York. People called him Cam.”

A solemn murmur ripples through the crowd. Hats are removed, hands held to chests. “Rest in peace, Cam,” someone says. Maybe they have somebody they care about in Vietnam, a friend or a lover or a brother. You wave goodbye and climb into the limousine. The outpouring swells as you vanish: We love you, Mrs. Targaryen! God bless you, Mrs. Targaryen!

In the lobby of the Texas State Hotel, you tell Ludwika and Mimi not to follow you. They have to listen. After some hesitation, Mimi heads for the bar in the ballroom; Ludwika asks the staff at the front desk if she’ll be able to make a call to Poland with the phone in her room. You take the elevator to the top floor. Fosco is in the hallway, on his way back from one of the vending machines with a Fresca. When he sees your face, his jaw drops.

“Dio mio, what happened?”

“Nothing,” you say, tears biting in your eyes. You pass him, digging your key out of your purse.

“Are you sure—?”

“Fosco, please. I don’t want to talk.”

“Okay,” he says doubtfully. Then he seems to get an idea and strides away with great purpose. You take shelter in your suite, silent and dim; Aemond isn’t back yet. You brace yourself against the locked door and sob into empty, trembling hands, at last hidden away where no one can see you, where no one can be disturbed or disappointed. You know now that none of it was healed—not the loss, not the revelations—but only buried, and now it’s all been unearthed again and the pain shrieks like exposed nerves.

It’s not fair. Ari deserved better, I deserved better.

There’s nothing you can do. Your hands ache to hold someone that no longer exists. You can’t unlearn the truth of what your marriage is.

There are two knocks, quick and rough. “Hey, it’s me.” And there’s such pure intimacy in those words. You know my voice. You know why I’m here. “Open the door.”

“I’m okay, just, just, just leave me alone—”

“Open the door,” Aegon says again. “Or I’ll get security up here to do it for you.”

Swiping the tears from your face, you let him in. He’s dressed in baggy black shorts, nothing on his feet, an unbuttoned stolen green army jacket. You once thought he wore those to play the part of a revolutionary from the comfort of his East Coast seaside mansion. Now you understand it’s because he misses Daeron, because he believes he should have gone to Vietnam instead. There are several dog tags strung around his neck; some of the veterans at the medical center he visited must have gifted them to him.

“What’s wrong?” Aegon’s eyes sweep over you, seeking, horrified. “What did he do?”

You can’t answer, you can’t breathe. You back away from him as more tears spill down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey, let me help you. Please don’t be upset. Did he say something, did he hurt you?” Aegon reaches out, and as soon as he touches you your knees buckle and you’re on the floor, trying not to wail, trying not to scream, and Aegon is pulling you against his chest—bare skin, borrowed metal—and his hands are on your face and in your hair, and his lips are against your forehead as he murmurs: “Shh, shh, don’t cry. It’s okay.”

“No it’s not.”

“Whatever it is, I can help.”

“I had to go to a hospital and hold babies and I, I, I never even got to touch him, not once, not ever, and I can’t now because he’s gone. He’s locked in some fucking vault, he’s just bones, but he was supposed to be a person, and those other babies are going to get to grow up but he isn’t, and it’s not fair.”

“You’re right,” Aegon agrees softly, still holding you.

“No one else knew him.”

“I did. I was there the whole time.”

“Only because Aemond made you stay.”

“No,” Aegon swears. “I was supposed to spy on you. He never told me to do any of the rest of it. I stayed because I wanted to.”

“You did,” you say, very quietly, weakly, conceding.

“And I’m still here now.”

Your lungs aren’t burning quite so much. Your tears are slowing. You unravel yourself from Aegon, averting your eyes. Now you’re ashamed; you aren’t in the habit of revealing to people how much you’re splintering like cracked glass, fresh fractures every time you think to check the damage. “I’m, um, I’m really sorry.”

“Look, I don’t mean to bring up unpleasant memories, but this is definitely not the most embarrassing thing I’ve seen you do.”

You laugh, only for a few seconds, and Aegon smiles as he mops the tears from your face with the sleeve of his army jacket. Then he turns serious again.

“Can I ask you something? It’s very personal. It’s offensive, honestly. But I have to know.”

“You can ask.”

“Do you want more children?”

More children. Because Ari was real. “Not now. Not with Aemond.”

Aegon nods, suspicions confirmed. “Can you do that sponge thing you told me about?”

“No. I think he’d be able to feel it, he’s…” You gesture vaguely. It’s difficult to say. “He’s big.”

Aegon didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want to have to think about it. He flinches, just enough that you notice. But as much as he’d like to, he doesn’t change the subject. “What about the pill?”

“No doctor is going to write me a prescription without my husband’s permission. Especially considering who my husband is.”

“I hate this fucking country,” Aegon hisses. “Puritanical goddamn hellscape. Old Testament bullshit.” He drags his fingers through his hair a few times, then pats your cheek like he did before: twice, gently, playfully. “Come on. Let’s go smoke.”

“I can’t do it on the balcony. Someone might get a picture.”

“Okay. No big deal. We’ll go to the roof.”

You stare at him. “The roof?”

“You really think I haven’t already been up there?” He stands and offers you his hand. “You’ll love it. The view is fantastic.”

The view is good, but the grass is better. You know that it makes some people useless, others paranoid, but for you it’s always painted the world a color that is softer, kinder, lighter, more bearable. You and Aegon lie next to each other, smoking and watching twilight fall over Houston like a spell. You’ll have to shower and gulp some Listerine before Aemond gets anywhere near you. It’s interesting; each day you seem to acquire new secrets to keep from him.

Aegon asks: “Where would you be right now if you weren’t Mrs. Targaryen?”

“Probably married to someone worse.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Okay, but let’s say you weren’t. Let’s say you can do whatever you want.” He points up at the lavender sky and acts like he’s moving the emerging glimmers of stars around with his fingertip. “There, I’ve changed your fate. Who would you be?”

You ponder this. “I want to teach math to kids and then spend every summer break getting baked on some beach.”

Aegon cackles. “Hell, sign me up.” He lights a third joint for himself with his tiny chrome Zippo. “Those are the people doing the real work. Teachers, nurses, farmers electricians, plumbers, welders, firemen, therapists, janitors, public defenders. The normal, unglamorous types.”

“You don’t think presidents and senators make a difference?”

“Sure they do. But only like 5% of the job is actually helping people. The rest of it is schmoozing and tea parties and making speeches, because looking and sounding good is better than doing good. They’re addicted to vapid pretenses that make them feel important. You live like that and you forget how to be a human. I mean, look at Nixon. The man was raised as a Quaker, one of the most peaceful religions on earth, and now he’s planning to throw ten or twenty thousand more boys into the great Vietnamese meatgrinder and probably napalm the hell out of Cambodia and Laos while he’s at it to get the communists’ supply lines. The man’s got no idea who he is anymore. I’d feel sorry for him if I wasn’t so terrified he’s gonna start World War III.”

I wonder who Aemond was a few decades ago. “What makes you feel important?”

“Nothing,” Aegon says. “I’m not under any delusions that I matter.”

“I think you matter, old man.”

“Really?”

“A little bit. About this much.” You hold your hand up to show him the infinitesimal space between your thumb and index finger, and Aegon chuckles, his eyes glazed and bloodshot.

“Let’s do it,” he says with sudden, forceful conviction. “If Nixon wins in November, we’ll get out of here. I’ll go back to Yuma to teach on the reservation and you can come with me. You get a math class, I take English, or Music, or both, whatever. We’ll buy a bungalow out in the desert and make s’mores every night and look up at the stars. I’ll show you how to play guitar if you give me algebra lessons.”

You peek over at him, intrigued. “Is that all we’re going to do?”

“Well we’ll fuck, obviously.”

“Oh, obviously.” You giggle; it’s ridiculous, it’s paradisical, it’s insane how good it sounds. But surely that’s only because you’re high. “I don’t know how Mimi would feel about that.”

“She won’t care. She doesn’t want me anymore, hasn’t in years. Sometimes she just forgets that when she’s wasted. Mimi can go to Arizona too. We’ll load up the kids in a van and strap her to the roof.”

Now your voice is somber. “She was supposed to fix you.”

“Yeah,” Aegon says: slow, meditative, guilty. “I think Mimi and I have a few too many of the same demons.”

You roll over, push yourself up on your palms, and crawl to the edge of the rooftop. You prop your elbows on the ledge and gaze out into the city lights, the sky turning from violet to indigo to primordial darkness. Aegon joins you, staring down at the distant aquamarine rectangle of the hotel pool.

He asks: “You think I could make that?”

“No.”

“Should I try?”

“You definitely shouldn’t.”

“A few months ago, you would have pushed me off this roof.”

You shrug. “You’ve proved yourself useful.”

“That’s why you like me now? Because I’m useful?”

“Who said I like you?” you tease, smiling.

“You like me,” Aegon says, grinning and smug, radiant in the silver moonlight and urban incandescence. “You like me so much it scares you. But there’s no need to panic. It’s okay. I know the feeling.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You want to touch him, you want him to touch you, you want to study every arc and angle of him like he’s a marble statue in a garden: too beautiful to be mortal, too fragile to be divine.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three nights later in Nebraska, there is a knock on the door of your hotel suite. The nannies have herded the children off to bed; the adults are unwinding downstairs in the courtyard of the Sheraton Omaha, designed to resemble an Italian garden. There’s a brand new Jacuzzi that you’re looking forward to taking a dip in. You finish pulling on your swimsuit, white and patterned with sunflowers, a one-piece with a flared skirt.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Richard Nixon,” Aegon says through the door. “Naked. Horny. Please love me.”

You laugh and let him in. He’s leaning against the doorframe in Hawaiian swim trunks and nothing else, pink sunburn glowing on his soft chest. He holds up a brown paper bag and shakes it.

“For you.”

“What is it, heroin?” Instead, you open the bag to find small, circular packs of pills. “No way. You did not.”

“That’s enough for six months,” Aegon says, smirking, proud of himself. “I’ll be back again in February. Guess that makes me your dealer, babe. I don’t accept cash, checks, or cards, only sexual favors. You want to get down on your knees, or should I?”

“How did you get these?”

“I told a doctor they’re for one of my whores.”

“Maybe they are.”

You’ve surprised him, you’ve got him thinking about it now. His face flushes a splotchy, charming pink. “So, uh, you coming down to the courtyard?”

“Yeah. Right now. Just let me hide these first. Are there instructions in here…?”

“Mm hmm,” Aegon says, still distracted, studying the entirely unremarkable carpet. You stow the paper bag of birth control pills in the bottom of your bras and panties drawer, then walk with Aegon to take the elevator down to the ground floor. You both notice the bright red emergency stop button and share a glance, smirking, taunting.

In the courtyard, Alicent is struggling to pay attention as Helaena identifies each and every species of plant and explains where in the world it is native to. Fosco is simultaneously teaching Criston how to yo-yo and berating him for not believing the Cubs will end up in the World Series. Fosco has apparently bet $500 on them. Ludwika is stretched out on a lounge chair like a cat and reading a copy of Cosmopolitan. Aemond, wearing his eyepatch and a blue pair of swim trunks, appears to be arguing with Otto over the contents of a newspaper article. Mimi is alone in the Jacuzzi, bubbles rumbling all around her as she slumps against the rim, a frosty Gimlet clutched in one hand.

“Mimi, get out of the Jacuzzi,” you order.

“I’m fine!” she slurs, and you groan, knowing you’re going to have to drag her out.

Aemond is approaching; no, not approaching, raging. “What the hell is wrong with you? What the fuck is this?” He hurls the newspaper at you, the Houston Chronicle. The headline reads: To Mrs. Targaryen, ending the Vietnam War is personal. “Why would you tell somebody that? Other papers are going to start reporting this. You gave them his full name. They’ve found his school, his friends, his gravesite in motherfucking Arlington National Cemetery—”

“You set me up,” you say. “You didn’t tell me about the hospital.”

Aegon takes the newspaper from you and frantically skims the article. “Hey, man,” he tells Aemond as he pieces it together, attempting to deescalate. It’s not a skill you knew he possessed. “She was rattled, she wasn’t thinking clearly. And there’s nothing bad in this article. It makes her sound invested and sympathetic, not…um…whatever you’re thinking.”

“You don’t get it,” Aemond seethes. “Journalists are going to start hounding his friends, his classmates, people who lived in his dorm building. Nixon’s newspapers will publish any gossip they can dig up about what she did when she was in school. Things people saw, things people overheard—”

“What, the fact that she had one boyfriend before she met you? That’s worthy of a nuclear meltdown?! Better prepare for Armageddon, a woman got laid, launch the goddamn warheads!”

“She doesn’t get to have a past! She should understand that, she signed up for this, she knew exactly what was expected of her!”

“And what about your past?” Aegon says, low and searing, and Aemond goes quiet. Their eyes are locked on each other: Aegon defiant, Aemond unnerved. You try to remember if you’ve ever seen that expression on his face before. You don’t think you have. Not even when he was shot and half-blinded. Not even when Ari died.

“What does that mean?” you ask your husband. Still staring at Aegon—tangled in a thorny, silent battle of wills—he doesn’t reply.

There are swift, thudding footsteps. Otto grabs Aegon by his hair, hooks a finger through the small gold hoop in his right ear, and tears it straight through the earlobe. Aegon screams as blood streams down his face, feeling the ravaged fringes of his flesh.

“I told you to take those out,” Otto says. “Now remove the other one before I rip it free, and go get yourself stitched up.”

You do something you’ve never done before, never even thought of. You strike out with both hands and shove Otto so hard he goes staggering backwards, his arms wheeling. The others are yelling and rushing over. Aemond is trying to yank you to him, but he can’t get a grip on your swimsuit. “I will kill you!” you roar at Otto. “I will push you down a staircase, I will slit your fucking throat, don’t you ever touch him!”

Alicent is weeping, appalled, trying to get a look at Aegon’s damaged ear. Criston is helping her, moving Aegon’s bloodied hair out of the way. Fosco links his arms around your waist and drags you out of Aemond’s reach just as he’s getting his fingers beneath a strap of your swimsuit. Helaena is covering her face with her hands and wailing. Ludwika is shrieking at Otto: “What did you do? Don’t give me that, what did you do?!”

You are engulfed with rage, red and irresistible. You’re trying to bolt out of Fosco’s grasp. You want to claw Otto’s eyes out; you want to put a bullet in him. As you struggle, you catch a glimpse of the Jacuzzi. You don’t see Mimi anymore.

“Wait,” you plead, but nobody hears you over the noise. You look desperately at Fosco. “Where’s Mimi?!”

Once he figures out what you’re trying to say, he whirls towards the Jacuzzi. “No!” he bellows, releasing you, and careens across the courtyard. You dash after him. Now the others understand, and they come running too. You see it just before Fosco dives in: there is a shadow at the bottom of the Jacuzzi. When he bursts up though the roiling water, he is carrying Mimi, limp and unconscious and blue.

Everyone is shouting at once. Fosco lays Mimi down on the cobblestones of the courtyard. Criston sends Ludwika to call an ambulance, kneels beside Mimi, checks for a pulse. Then he begins CPR. When he breathes air into her flooded lungs, there is no response, no resurrection.

“No, no, no, she has to be alright!” Aemond says, and everyone knows why. If she’s not, this will consume the headlines for days: no victorious campaigning, no speeches or photos, just a drowned alcoholic with a damning autopsy report.

“Oh my god,” Otto moans, pacing. “This can’t be happening, not this year, not now…”

Alicent seizes your hand and squeezes it until you think it will break. She is reciting prayers in Greek. Helaena is curled up under a butterfly bush, sobbing hysterically. When he realizes this, Otto hurries to comfort her.

“Don’t watch, Helaena. Let’s go inside, I’ll walk with you, there’s nothing more we can do here.”

“Mimi?!” Aegon commands, slapping her hard across the face. “Mimi, come on, wake up! Mimi? Mimi!” She’s still motionless, she’s still blue. Aegon turns to you, blood smeared all over the right side of his face. He’s petrified, he’s in shock. “I think she’s…she’s…”

“She’s gone,” Criston says; and he lifts his palms from her hollow body. The silent sky above is a labyrinth of bad stars.

[thequeenviana]

Ensnared

Pairing: Yandere Kim Taehyung x OC(Yuna)

Warning: This story is a work of fanfiction and is purely a product of the author's imagination. It does not depict any real-life events or individuals. While some characters may be inspired by real-life idols, their portrayal in this story is fictional and not representative of their true selves. Please note that this story may contain triggering content, including themes of abuse, gore, murder, humiliation, bullying, rape, and other mature and dark themes. Reader discretion is advised, especially for those under the age of 18. If you are uncomfortable with such content, it is recommended to refrain from reading and kindly disregard this story.

Synopsis: Yuna finds herself questioning her husband's love and fidelity. She becomes convinced that he has fallen out of love with her and is engaging in an extramarital affair. Adding to her distress, her husband refuses to acknowledge their relationship publicly and instead presents someone else as his wife. Despite the heartache, she chooses to stay by his side, hoping for a change. However, the question lingers: How long can she endure this situation before reaching her breaking point?

​They say that being in love is a beautiful and magical feeling, where two souls intertwine and create a bond that can withstand any storm.

But, why is it that in my case, it feels like something is missing?

My name is Yuna, Kim Yuna, a 26-year-old woman who is married to the one and only Kim Taehyung. He is not only the world's famous CEO but also a self-made model of his own modeling company, which goes by the name of "Kim's Fashion Empire." We have been married for almost two years now, but why do I felt like he was embarrassed to reveal me to the whole world,that he claims someone else as his wife that brakes my heart.

I don't understand how this happened, but he claims that our marriage is just a facade to protect me from his rivals. However, deep down, I can't help but feel that he is protecting himself more than me. There was a time when a reporter asked him about his rumored wife, and the whole world was eager to know who this lucky girl was. Many speculated that it could be a celebrity or an idol, especially Nova, who was working closely with him. We had countless fights over this, but he always managed to calm me down with his sweet words and promises to reveal me to the world as his wife.

The day finally arrived when he introduced Nova as his wife to the public, and it shattered my heart into a million pieces. What hurt even more was when the reporters asked for proof, and without hesitation, he kissed her in front of everyone. As I watched this heartbreaking scene unfold on television, tears streamed down my face, and my heart felt like it was being ripped apart. Meanwhile, our second-anniversary cake remained untouched, a symbol of the love we once shared but now seemed to be crumbling away.

When he finally came home, I couldn't contain my emotions any longer. We erupted into another argument, and in my pain and anger, I slapped him and pushed him away, forbidding him from touching me with his filthy hands. He had the audacity to try and kiss me, even after kissing that woman! But, being the foolish woman that I am, I couldn't think straight. I gave in to him once again, swayed by his sweet words, apologies, and manipulative explanations. He made me believe that he only did it to protect me from his enemies, who would stop at nothing to bring him down by using me as a weapon. And in my weakness, I allowed him to win me over, as he tightly embraced me, and I cried myself to sleep.

I know I may seem foolish and naive, but please don't be mad at me. I truly love this man with all my heart, and it's that love that keeps me holding on, hoping that one day, he will truly see and appreciate the love I have for him.

​...

​It was 8:46 a.m., and I stepped out of the car, a smile gracing my face. I adjusted my dress and held onto the lunch I had cooked for him. With a mask and cap on, I entered his company, always in awe of its grandeur. His intelligence and hard work had brought him to this position as the CEO of the number one top modeling agency, making him the most handsome man in the world. I couldn't help but feel immense pride in my man.

As I walked towards the receptionist, she greeted me with a warm smile, and I returned it graciously. Making my way through the VIP elevator, I ascended to his office. The sound of the elevator opening made me look up, and I stepped out, heading towards his office door. However, my smile faltered when I saw them again. Him and Nova, standing side by side, engrossed in conversation. I watched as they seemed to be getting closer, his smile widening as he listened to her. I didn't allow myself to dwell on negative thoughts and cleared my throat to catch their attention. They both turned towards me, and Nova quickly distanced herself from him, his smile fading as his eyes met mine. It had been a while since I had seen him smile like that, but not for me, for another woman. Was this a sign? No, I couldn't let myself think that way. I cleared my mind and approached his desk as Nova excused herself and left us alone, maybe for good. Ugh, why was I feeling jealous again?

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his face void of emotions, twirling his expensive and favorite pen between his fingers.

I smiled at him and placed the lunch box on his glass table, but my actions halted when he said, "I already ate lunch." I couldn't help but notice another lunch box on his table. Did he... no, Yuna, stop it. I cleared my throat, looking away from him, trying to control the hurt emotions that threatened to overflow and the tears that welled up in my eyes.

"Oh, is that so? Then I'll just go," I said, not giving him a chance to respond, and quickly walked away.

I heard him call my name, and I stopped, waiting for him to burst through the door and stop me from leaving, but he didn't. This was new. He had even neglected our planned dinner date last night and hadn't given me a valid reason for canceling. But, being the understanding wife that I am, I didn't pester him and simply supported him, assuming it was for business. He had changed. My consciousness whispered these words, but I laughed them off, trying to stop myself from overthinking.

​.....

​"C'mon, Yuna, are you really that naive?" My friend Ria said to me in disbelief. I hissed and looked down, finally letting my tears flow as I cried helplessly in her comforting embrace.

I had decided to meet my friend because I didn't know what to think anymore about my situation. I poured my heart out to her, explaining his behavior towards me and the signs that maybe he no longer loved me. My friend suggested that perhaps he had been using me all along and that he was only staying because of my late father.

My father and he were close business partners, and that's how I met and fell in love with him. When my father fell sick with cancer, he made him promise to take care of me and love me unconditionally. But now, it seemed like the man my father entrusted me to was drifting away from me.

"This is wrong, what he is doing is wrong, Yuna—what the hell?" Ria frowned at me, and suddenly our attention shifted to the television in the cafe. Not only my friend and I, but all the customers in the cafe turned their attention to the TV. I struggled to maintain consciousness, gripping my friend's hand tightly, even though I could hear her hiss in pain. Right now, I didn't care. My focus was solely on the TV screen.

The reporter flashed a sweet smile as she updated everyone on how Kim Taehyung, my husband, was caught by a paparazzi in one of the most luxurious hotels in Seoul, dating his fake wife, Nova. My heart shattered once again, for the millionth time. Maybe there was no heart left to be broken in me anymore, considering the immense pain I had endured since marrying this man who had promised the world to me. He had promised to protect, cherish, and love me, but they were all sweet lies thrown in my face just to make me his submissive wife.

I saw adoration and that wide, charming smile that had once made me fall in love with him, now directed towards the woman he held at the waist in the picture displayed on the television. The reporter smiled widely at the sweet display, and everyone watching seemed oblivious to how much it was breaking me. He had succeeded in breaking me. Kim Taehyung, aren't you done? What have I done to deserve being made a fool of? I only loved and still love you, but why?

What's even more heartbreaking is that just two hours ago, he had informed me that he had an important meeting with Mr. Jung. Little did I know that it was just an excuse for him to meet his secret lover behind my back. I understand that he claims to be using her as a way to deceive his rivals and make them believe she is his wife, but this is too much. It's no longer about that. I can feel it, strongly. He has been cheating on me right in front of my face all this time, and I am the foolish one who ignored all the signs.

Pathetic. That's what I am.

​.....

​Kim Taehyung walked in with his fake wife, Nova, by his side, basking in the glory of the cameras flashing and capturing their every move. He proudly gripped Nova's waist tightly, wearing a proud smile as they made their way through the doors of the ball. All eyes were on them as they entered, and Kim Taehyung reveled in the attention. The compliments and adoration thrown their way only fueled his arrogance.

He had it all - money, fame, looks, real estate, and more. But the most important thing to him was his perfect little wife waiting for him at home. Despite his recent avoidance of her, he claimed it wasn't because he had fallen out of love. No, it was something else, something he couldn't quite explain. He knew he would go insane if she ever walked away from his life. There was an addiction, a need that consumed him.

The reason for his distance from his wife was the presence of someone in his den, someone who was interfering with his life. He needed to be careful and find out who it was. He couldn't wait to put an end to their existence for making him stay away from his wife. The thought of shedding blood excited him, and his fingers itched for that feeling of thick liquid on his skin.

He needed to discover the identity of the person spying on him before they found out who his real wife was, the woman he had sworn to protect. There were already three people he and his right-hand man, Jungkook, suspected. He was waiting for them to make a wrong move.

Amidst his thoughts, Jungkook leaned in and whispered to him, his fake smile still plastered on his face. "Mr. Kim, some paparazzi have captured pictures of you and Nova leaving the meeting at Veroza and claim that you were on a date. I believe madame has already seen it."

Anger coursed through his veins, and he clenched his teeth in frustration, but he maintained a forced smile for the onlookers. "Is she at the mansion? Don't let her leave under any circumstances," Taehyung demanded through gritted teeth. He was already on thin ice with his wife, and he knew his recent ignorance towards her had caused her to overthink, especially after what happened in his office earlier. Although a sick part of him enjoyed seeing her jealous and then reassuring her with physical intimacy, he knew he needed to talk to her tonight. However, he wasn't sure if she would believe him if he explained that he was only there for the meeting. His mind was in turmoil.

"Boss, bad news. Madam hasn't returned home," Jungkook began, but before he could finish his sentence, Taehyung angrily stormed out of the ballroom, his eyes burning with rage. Jungkook followed closely behind, and the guests and everyone present witnessed the scene, leaving Nova feeling embarrassed and alone.

​

​....

The two black sports cars raced through the busy streets of Seoul, disregarding traffic lights and causing chaos. Pedestrian officers and even the police were instructed to make way for the racing cars, as orders from higher authorities had come in to ensure their passage. The honking of the cars echoed through the streets, creating a sense of urgency and danger.

"Fucking track my wife this instance!" Taehyung's voice boomed through the earpiece, filled with anger and determination. His eyes burned with a murderous intensity as he accelerated, pushing the car to its limits.

"Jeon, you know what to do to that traitor. I will take care of

the lamb and my wife," he commanded through the earpiece, his voice laced with a deadly tone that instilled fear even in the young man who had worked for Kim Taehyung for many years. Nobody wanted to cross paths with Kim Taehyung if they valued their lives.

.....

​The dark alleyway remained eerily silent, with the cold wind whispering chilling thoughts to anyone who dared to walk through this part of the street. It had gained a reputation as a place where numerous murders had taken place.

"Where's the money?" the tanned, imposing man asked, taking a drag from his cigarette. His red eyes indicated that he had just finished using drugs. The man with the hood scoffed and handed over the envelope containing the money. The tanned man grinned, satisfied that he was about to receive the payment he desired.

Suddenly, eerie and painful screams pierced through the dark alleyway. The tanned man's right hand, which had been intact just moments ago, was now blasted off. He fell to his knees, writhing in pain and clutching his mangled arm. His screams intensified when he saw his fingers scattered on the floor, blood splattered all around. The hooded man stood frozen, unable to move, as he stared at the once-arrogant tanned man now kneeling before him, his right hand obliterated.

An eerie, manic laugh echoed through the alleyway, accompanying the sound of approaching footsteps. The hooded man felt a shiver run down his spine as he turned away from the lifeless body on the ground to see someone in the distance. The figure walked slowly, deliberately, towards them, continuing to chuckle in a dark and unsettling manner. The moonlight briefly illuminated the man's face, causing the hooded man to gasp and step back, only to slip in the dark pool of blood from the tanned man. He found himself face to face with the man's severed arm.

As the figure continued to stalk towards him, the hooded man could hear a deep voice speaking through an earpiece. "Thanks, Jimin hyung. I'll take it from here," the voice said, followed by another chilling laugh directed at the hooded man's terrified expression. The figure crouched down in front of him, a sick smile on his face, and looked down at the lifeless body on the ground. The blood continued to flow from the man's severed arm, creating a macabre image akin to a faucet running.

"You should just mind your own business, young man," the man's deep, menacing voice echoed as he stared at the hooded man with madness in his eyes. The hooded man shook his head, wanting to plead for his life, but no words came out. He was too terrified by this man, this angel-faced monster who had just committed murder and laughed about it.

Before the hooded man could react, a knife sliced through his neck, catching him off guard. He choked on his own blood, desperately clutching his throat as blood gushed out. He tried to scream, but his cries were muffled as the mad man repeatedly pushed the knife into his mouth, silencing him. The man's famous boxy smile widened as he spoke.

"And these eyes too," he said with a sickening smile, proceeding to carve out the hooded man's lifeless eyes. Blood splattered everywhere, but the man only found amusement in the gruesome act. He continued his sadistic torture, chopping off the hooded man's hands, reveling in the pain he inflicted.

Once he was done with his never-ending torment, he stood up, his handsome face twisted with a wide smile. In the distance, a booming sound echoed, as if something had been obliterated in the faraway distance. The man laughed again upon hearing it. His earpiece buzzed, and he heard the voices of Jimin and Jungkook.

"Boss, it's done," they said.

A wide, chilling smile spread across the man's face as his eerie laugh resonated through the eerie alleyway, accompanied by the two lifeless bodies lying before him.

"Now, where are we again?" he asked himself, pretending as if he had done nothing wrong. "Ah, yes, to my beautiful runaway wife," he chuckled. "Time to bring her back home."

He walked away, humming an eerie tune, leaving behind a trail of darkness and terror.

.....

Jungkook and Jimin stood together, watching the burning building as firefighters and police worked to control the fire and keep civilians away. The cries of family members and fans of Nova, who were likely among the victims, filled the air. Jimin casually ate a burger, seemingly unfazed by the tragic scene unfolding before them.

"That man is really crazy for his wife, willing to burn the world and kill for her," Jimin commented between bites. Jungkook scoffed and looked up at the dark sky, now surrounded by thick smoke.

"May heaven help her escape his madness," Jungkook whispered, his voice filled with concern. Jimin overheard and laughed in response.

"I wish the same, but based on what that man has done, he's deeply obsessed with her," Jimin added before groaning and clutching his stomach. Jungkook raised an eyebrow, looking down at Jimin.

"What? Are the dead seeking revenge on you already?" Jungkook mockingly asked, bursting into laughter. Jimin shot him a deadly glare.

"Shut up," Jimin retorted.

After a while, both Jungkook and Jimin decided to leave the scene, leaving behind the aftermath of destruction and tragedy.

.....

Ria sighed sadly as she observed her sleeping friend in bed. Tears stained her cheeks, and her eyelashes were still wet from crying. Ria leaned against the doorframe, worried about her friend's future. She was broken by her husband's betrayal, and it had brought her to a state where she cried herself to sleep.

Suddenly, the sound of breaking glass interrupted Ria's thoughts, causing her eyes to widen. Was someone breaking into her house? She quickly ran to the kitchen, grabbing a knife and feeling her heart pound with adrenaline. She looked around the dark surroundings, then dashed back to the bedroom where her friend slept.

Locking the door, Ria didn't realize that the intruder would only laugh at the thought that it could stop him from getting what he wanted all along. Yuna stirred in her sleep and groaned as Ria shook her to wake her up. But when Yuna saw the fear on her friend's face, she immediately became uneasy and scared, sensing that something was wrong. Her eyes widened when she noticed the knife in Ria's hand.

Ria shook Yuna's shoulders, trying to get her attention. "There's someone in this house," Ria said, her voice trembling, which only made Yuna clutch the bedsheets tightly.

"What do you mean?" Yuna asked, still bewildered by the situation.

"Hush. There's someone who broke into my house," Ria replied, but before she could finish her sentence, someone banged on the door, causing both of them to scream.

The banging continued, and a scary, deep voice resonated from the other side of the door, a voice that both of them recognized all too well. "Open the door, babe," Taehyung's voice rang out, filled with anger. Yuna looked at Ria, shaking her head in fear. She had witnessed Taehyung's anger before, nearly seeing him beat a man who had flirted with her to the brink of death.

Ria gulped and hugged Yuna tightly, glaring at the door, which was seconds away from being forced open. When it finally burst open, Taehyung stood there, his heaving form and the darkness surrounding him instilling fear in Ria. But she remained strong for her friend, gripping the knife tighter.

Yuna shook her head, afraid to face her furious husband. Ria widened her eyes, finally taking notice of Taehyung's appearance. He was covered in blood, as if he had bathed in it before coming to find his next victim.

"Hand me over my wife now," Taehyung demanded, struggling to control his urge to harm the woman who had influenced his wife to leave him.

Ria stood her ground, gripping the knife tightly. "Stay away from her and leave this place! Or else, I will call the police!" Ria screamed, attempting to scare him away. But a cold fear ran through her spine when Taehyung only laughed and took short steps toward them.

"Busan, at xxx address," Taehyung said blankly, smirking at the terrified female. Ria's eyes widened, filled with horror. No, he wouldn't.

"Oh, I would," Taehyung said, seemingly reading her mind as he chuckled and stopped just an arm's length away from them.

"Don't touch them!" Ria suddenly screamed, causing Yuna to startle and look at Taehyung, making eye contact with him. He smirked, opening his arms as if inviting her to take them, but she shook her head, overwhelmed by fear at his appearance. She felt an urge to vomit.

"Now, wifey, come here, or else more people will be killed today, hm? Let's not make it worse," Taehyung taunted.

Yuna's eyes widened in fear, and she cried out loudly, trembling in terror. This man was a monster. How could he do this?

Ria stood there, paralyzed with fear, accidentally loosening her grip on the knife, which fell to the ground. She looked down in defeat. Her family's lives were on the line, and she felt powerless.

Taehyung saw this as an opportunity and grabbed his wife, who screamed and struggled to break free. Annoyed, he punched her in the face, gripping her hair and punching her again. Yuna lay unconscious after those two punches, and Taehyung sighed, picking her up.

Suddenly, Taehyung stopped in his tracks and looked back at Ria, who had remained quiet throughout the ordeal.

"If I were you, I would stay the fuck away and never come back," he threatened one last time before walking out of the house with a proud smirk on his face.

However, guilt flickered in his eyes when he noticed the bruise on his wife's beautiful face. He sighed again.

"This wouldn't have happened if you had just behaved,"

he mumbled to himself as he placed her in the backseat and drove away, taking his wife back to his cage, waiting for her. He was sure this time he wouldn't let her leave him again. He had gone crazy for a day when she left him, losing control in front of the party and the cameras that captured his every action and shared it with the media and his fans. It was all because of his wife. God, he didn't know what would happen if she managed to escape his grasp.

...

The guards quickly opened the giant gates as they saw the fast-approaching black car racing inside. The car came to a stop and parked perfectly in front of the gold and white mansion. Taehyung stepped out of the car, still dirty and disheveled, but his undeniable handsomeness remained. He ignored the wide-eyed gasps of the maids as he swiftly walked to their room, carrying his still unconscious wife.

After cleaning himself and his wife up, Taehyung stood on the balcony, puffing on his cigarette and closing his eyes. He chuckled at his thoughts, then glanced at his wife and the handcuffs binding her to the bed.

He left the room and made his way to his study, situated in a far corner of the mansion. Sitting down in the chair, he turned on the TV to watch the news about the still-burning building where he had been just hours ago. His name appeared on the screen, along with Nova's picture. He laughed as the reporter offered condolences to him and the woman's family, scoffing at their sympathy. He poured himself a glass of wine, smirking at the situation.

"You can come in," he said, and the people outside the door entered. They marveled at how he could sense their presence even without looking. Well, it was to be expected when there was always a paparazzi tailing him.

"Boss, we successfully eliminated all the people at that event," Jimin said, playing with his gun as he slumped on the couch, closing his eyes. He still felt the pain in his stomach after eating the burger from the event that they had blown up, killing everyone inside. Jungkook sat quietly at the far end of the couch, his face stoic.

...

Taehyung twirled the alcohol in his glass and looked up at the two. "I can see that," he smirked, his gaze shifting to the TV screen still displaying the burning building. The sight brought a creepy smirk to their lips. They had grown just as mad as their boss, even if they didn't admit it.

...

Yuna stirred in her sleep, attempting to soothe her aching jaw. But when she felt restraints on her hands, panic washed over her, and she let out a surprised yell upon realizing her wrists were handcuffed to the bed. "No! What is this?" she exclaimed, tugging on the restraints in a panic. Her fear intensified when a dark, dominating voice filled the room, though she couldn't see its source due to the darkness.

"You really think you can escape from me, my love?" the voice asked, madness swirling in its eyes as it looked at Yuna, his prized possession, who began to cry.

"Since the day you married me, you have become mine, forever tied to me whether you like it or not," the voice continued. It stood up and slowly crawled onto the bed, causing Yuna's panic to escalate. She cried out in fear as the figure loomed over her, kissing her cleavage and neck. It was then that she realized she was only in her undergarments, making her feel vulnerable.

"Stop!" Yuna yelled, but her voice was muffled by the sudden, harsh kiss that silenced her. Her husband devoured her lips as if it was his last.

Yuna spent the entire night crying helplessly as her own husband forced himself on her, claiming it was an act of love and asserting his ownership. But for her, it felt like he was raping her soul. She hated herself for being powerless, unable to stop the repeated assaults. As exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she teetered on the edge of consciousness, she heard him whisper in a dark, chilling tone, "You are mine, forever and ever, and no one can change that." He devoured her lips once more before darkness claimed her completely.

​

[beautiful-vil]

Vil Schoenheit: Profoundly Misunderstood (An In-Depth Character Analysis)

FULL NAME:

Vil Schoenheit

NICKNAMES:

Beta Fish, Beautiful Vil, Roi du Poison

NAME MEANING:

Schoenheit is German for "beauty"; since Snow White is a German fairytale, and the Fairest Queen was famously obsessed with maintaining her beauty, this makes for a fitting surname for the Pomefiore housewarden.

Vil is a French name, a variation of the word “ville”- this fits the elegant, European-inspired nature of Pomefiore. The name Vil also sounds like “evil” or “villain,” which seems like an allusion to the Evil Queen whom Vil is twisted from. It also relates to how Vil was constantly typecast as a villain throughout his acting career.

AGE/BIRTHDAY:

April 9 (Aries); 18 years old

SPECIES:

Human

HEIGHT:

183 cm

GENDER AND PRONOUNS:

Male; he/him (I do like fem Vil, though.)

HOMELAND:

Shaftlands

DORM:

Pomefiore

YEAR:

Third year

CLASS:

Class C (No. 23)

HOBBIES/TALENTS:

Singing, acting, modeling, fashion, makeup, general stage presence, leadership

CLUBS:

Film Studies Club

BEST SUBJECTS:

Potionology

MORE INFORMATION:

Vil is one of the most popular celebrities in all of Twisted Wonderland, with a huge net worth. Though he loves his work as a singer, actor, influencer, and model, he has currently put his career on hold in order to focus on his duties as Housewarden and his academic success at NRC.

He is twisted from the Evil Queen, from Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.

EXTERNAL PERSONALITY:

Vil comes across as extremely confident, fashionable, and elegant, if somewhat haughty. He can sometimes come across as overly critical of others’ appearance, because he expects perfection not only from himself, but from everyone around him. There’s a certain regal quality about him, and he’s a natural leader. He also comes across as somewhat effeminate, and gets bothered by students like Epel who try to pointlessly conform to a gender binary. Vil believes himself to be the most beautiful man on campus and expects everyone around him to know it. He wants everyone in his dorm to conform to his high standards of dress, diet, and comportment.

INTERNAL PERSONALITY:

Despite his haughty exterior, Vil is actually deeply afraid of failure, or of being anything but the best. He feels that must be the most beautiful, the most successful, the most talented, or he’s completely worthless. He tends to be incredibly hard on himself if he makes the smallest mistake or fails to achieve complete perfection, and he often seeks validation from others rather than within himself. He is an incredibly hard worker and strives to do his absolute best in everything he does. He’s incredibly passionate about the arts, whether that’s fashion, musical performance, or theatre, and likes to challenge outdated, heteronormative, or patriarchal notions of sexuality and gender. He struggles to forgive himself for mistakes, and this “phantom guilt” is what ultimately leads to his overblot; though his friends all forgive him for his attempt to poison Neige leBlanche, Vil is unable to forgive HIMSELF.

MORALS:

Vil firmly believes that hard work is the key to success; if it first you don’t succeed, you just have to try harder, do better, give it more time and effort, push yourself to your limits until you finally succeed. He believes there are no such things as “girly” or “boyish” hobbies- the gender binary is arbitrary and pointlessly confining. He believes there’s no point in doing anything unless you give it 110 percent. He also greatly appreciates the value of beauty, and every single aspect of his appearance is a conscious choice. After all, image is everything, especially when you’re famous.

GOOD AND BAD HABITS:

STRONG WORK ETHIC- Vil believes the only way to succeed in life is through giving it your all.

CHALLENGES SOCIAL NORMS- Vil challenges the antiquated and misogynistic ideals of students like Epel.

PRIZES SELF-CARE- Vil understands the importance of taking care of your appearance and treating yourself like royalty.

OVERLY CRITICAL OF OTHERS Vil tends to be displeased with students who aren’t as well-groomed or well-mannered as he is.

INSECURE Vil chases the validation of others, rather than believing in his own innate worth. He’s unable to grasp that if he believes he’s the fairest of them all, it doesn’t matter whether others agree or not.

OVERLY CRITICAL OF HIMSELF- Even when others forgive Vil for his mistakes, he is often unable to forgive himself. Even when people offer words of praise to Vil for his acting, singing, or modeling, he often insists that “that was far from his best work”- his voice was strained, his stage presence was lackluster, his hair was out of place, etc. He’s unable to simply take a compliment- instead, he’s constantly thinking of ways he needs to improve.

FEARS:

-Never breaking out of his “pretty villain” typecast

-Failure

-All of his hard work being for nothing

-Not being good enough

-All of his fans turning against him one day

-Disgracing the legacy of the Fairest Queen

MAGIC MAIN DESCRIPTION:

Vil is naturally talented at brewing potions, as well as any magic that has to do with one’s appearance. He is able to magically make himself seem naturally charming, beautiful, or endearing to an audience, a talent that comes in handy for someone like him, who constantly has eyes on him.

UNIQUE MAGIC:

Fairest One Of All - Allows Vil to place a curse on anything he touches, with any conditions of his choosing. It is so powerful, not even Vil himself can undo it until the previously specified conditions are met.

CHILDHOOD:

ERIC VENUE

Show business runs in Vil’s blood; he was raised by one of the most famous actors in all of Twisted Wonderland, Eric Venue. Eric was a very caring and loving father who taught Vil everything he knows about achieving a perfect performance. Vil inherited his father’s love of making an audience adore him.

TRAPPED IN A TYPECAST

Inspired by his father, Vil started acting from a young age, taking on roles in school dramas and TV shows. But Vil was always casted as the role of the villain or the bully, which started to bother Vil early on in his acting career. He didn’t understand why he was constantly categorized as a “villain,” and wondered what it was about him that was so despicable. Was it how he looked? How he acted? To make matters worse, he seemed to have been frequently bullied in school.

He desperately wanted to break out of his typecast and play a hero's role, and to achieve that he would put himself through rigorous training and effort both into his skills and appearance. Yet he was never chosen for anything but a villain's role, which left him feeling frustrated. Despite his building negative feelings, Vil never stopped putting in the effort or giving up his hope as he was growing up.

NEIGE LEBLANCHE

Throughout Vil’s career, Vil constantly co-starred in plays, photo shoots, commercials, movies, and TV shows with fellow celebrity Neige LeBlanche. They often starred together as the leading roles in media projects, with Vil playing the elegant villain and Neige playing the innocent hero. While Neige always seemed to want to become friends with Vil, and seems to feel a certain level of sentimentality towards his co-star, Vil eventually started to resent Neige for how he felt that Neige was constantly overshadowing him. He deeply envied Neige’s popularity and felt like he could never compare, no matter how hard he tried.

MIDDLE SCHOOL YEARS:

MEETING JACK HOWL

You’d think a celebrity like Vil would have lots of friends; in truth, Vil may have had adoring fans, but he essentially had no real friends in childhood. His only friend was his neighbor, Jack Howl. Jack didn’t judge Vil for his onscreen persona the way the other kids in the Shaftlands did. Even though Jack and Vil drifted apart somewhat when Vil arrived at NRC, they both still regard each other fondly and respect their shared history.

CURRENT WHEREABOUTS:

Vil is currently in his junior year at the prestigious academy of magic, Night Raven College, and is housewarden of Pomefiore. He is currently taking a break from the limelight in order to focus on school, and in an effort to make a name for himself outside of his father, he has changed his name from Vil Venue to Vil Schoenheit.

ROLEPLAY SAMPLE:

𝑽𝒊𝒍 𝒕𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒕 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒇𝒊𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎, 𝒉𝒊𝒔 6-inch 𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉 𝒉𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒓𝒉𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒎𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒑𝒍𝒆-𝒂𝒏𝒅-𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒏𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒔. “𝑹𝒐𝒐𝒌, 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝑬𝒑𝒆𝒍? 𝑯𝒆’𝒔 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔𝒂𝒍.”

𝑹𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒔𝒉𝒓𝒖𝒈𝒔, 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒔 𝑽𝒊𝒍. “𝑰’𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆, 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝑹𝒐𝒊 𝒅𝒖 𝑷𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏.”

𝑽𝒊𝒍 𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒔, 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆𝒅. “𝑻𝒄𝒉. 𝑶𝒃𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒑 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑺𝑫𝑪 𝒓𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔𝒂𝒍 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒂 𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑬𝒑𝒆𝒍. 𝑰’𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈-𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓. 𝑶𝒉, 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍. 𝑰𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆, 𝒘𝒆’𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎. 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝑬𝒑𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒖𝒏𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒑𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒆.”

𝑯𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒂 𝒑𝒓𝒆-𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒅𝒆𝒍. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒑𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒑𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒐 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇, 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒏. “𝑨𝒍𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆! 𝑳𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔, 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒂, 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏!”

𝑨𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔, 𝑹𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒖𝒅𝒔 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚, 𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔. “𝑶𝒉, 𝒎𝒚! 𝑹𝒐𝒊 𝒅𝒖 𝑷𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒏𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒒𝒖𝒆! 𝑻𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚, 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒆𝒕.”

𝑽𝒊𝒍 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅, 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒐𝒏 𝑹𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒅𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒚. “𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆. 𝑴𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒐𝒇𝒇-𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕, 𝒎𝒚 𝒗𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒍𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓. 𝑰’𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆, 𝒊𝒇 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑵𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒆 𝑳𝒆𝑩𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒆.”

“𝑶𝒉. 𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒍, 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍, 𝑹𝒐𝒊 𝒅𝒖 𝑷𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏.”

‘’’𝑫𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍’ 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒄𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕. 𝑰𝒇 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝑰’𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝑷𝑬𝑹����𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵. 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔. 𝑵𝒐𝒘, 𝒍𝒆𝒕’�� 𝒓𝒖𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒄 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏. 𝑰’𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆!”

𝑹𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆. “𝑶𝒉, 𝑽𝒊𝒍…”

[fabseg-creator]

Miraculous AU: Fifty Shades of Gold (Chloenette) [MATURE]

I've made a full collection of sketches of Marinette and Chloé intimate moments (but it's in a Fifty Shades of Grey style 👀).

It's the continuity of my previous sketch: Chloenette "Special Lesson" (Mature too).

It happens in an AU (dark and sad) [Mature content, No kids allowed]:

The AU: Fifty Shades of Gold

Marinette and Chloé are the co-main protagonists in this AU.

Marinette and Chloé are both 18 years old (but their civilian clothes are generally identical to their canon clothes).

Kwamis and Miraculouses don't exist.

-Marinette Dupain-Cheng:

Marinette is just a girl with a normal life but with some complications: she fails her romances with boys.

She is actually the Paris' best fashion-designer. She became famous in this speciality thanks to Gabriel (but the man suicided because of not accepting his wife's death).

Marinette is in a bad mood: she has lack of inspiration for creating dresses and clothes and she is no longer in couple with Adrien (despote they were lovers since

Adrien becomes baker (the Marinette's job with her parents) while Marinette has been promoted employee at the Gabriel brand by Audrey Bourgeois. It's a profession swap !

The Gabriel brand was beginning the path to the bankruptcy and Marinette felt the burnout until a certain blond girl comes to become candidate as top-model on replacement of Adrien who wouldn't be model anymore).

-Chloé Bourgeois:

Chloé is was a aristocrat girl turned into an escort-girl who has issues with her mother. Her father, the mayor, is deceased. After the latter's death, a saddened and desperate Chloé fled the Grand Hotel when she was 14.

Chloé secretly joins a business of prostitution as a escort-girl, call-girl and dominatrix. Following the next years, Chloé was fallen to the anonymity. Sabrina, Alya, Zoé, Adrien and Luka are the only ones who managed to keep in connection with the former spoiled brat.

She keeps her "job" secret from the public.

Her boss from her "business" is in fact: Cerise Bianca, a famous actress who make fortune by playing and producting movies. In clandestinity, the latter works in a proxenetism network under the identities of Lila Rossi, Volpina and Chrysalis (in association with a certain Cash and his mobsters) and her movie career had been launched on that. This girl is just recently become the new director of this" business" after the Cash's arrest.

At her difficult return to civilian life, Chloé becomes the top-model of the Gabriel brand by her mother (despite the issues Chloé has with her). Zoé is the one who convinced the mother and the half-sister to make a deal.

Chloé's promotion saves the brand.

But now, the blond girl must familiarize with Marinette (despite their opposite natures).

-The synopsis (hypothetical):

Marinette, a notorious fashion-designer and employee of the Gabriel fashion brand, lives an unlucky situation: Adrien breaks up with her in reason of her workholic time from her employment. He warned me he will see her again when she will really a time for him.

Meanwhile, the brand is in financial difficulties. Next day, Chloé comes to the brand's office for see Audrey Bourgeois, the former's mother and current the Gabriel's owner. Chloé receives here a "second chance": a promotion for working as model. A commercial (where Chloé appears) is released and the brand marketing is relaunched.

When Marinette finds out that, she is astonished. After three/four years of no contacting, she decides to see her. At their reuniting, the two young adult women will learn, by the decision of Audrey, an unexpected surprise: the two girls must work together as a business duo: Marinette is the designer and Chloé is the muse.

Marinette and Chloé go on a business trip. And during this trip, they take the time to familiarize each other. Together, they talk about their respective issues, difficulties, love problems, secrets and their similarities. That makes the two partners more closer each other and they begin to fall in love each other. But Marinette later realizes a unimaginable secret from Chloé: the latter had experienced a doubtful but enduring "profession" as prostitute during previous years. Their relationship will turns into a "game" Marinette never personally known and the bluenette will understands what Chloé lived during these last years.

-Their relationship:

In the past, a teenage Chloé was a bully and a teenage Marinette was one of the latter's victims.

After Chloé's Daddy's death, Marinette tried to express condoleances to the blond girl but the latter was already gone in a runaway. The bluenette was worried about her fallen rival being disappeared for some weeks.

Marinette went in date respectively with Luka, Nathaniel and finally Adrien (the boy she loved and finally dated).

Chloé realized "some tasteless adventures" with unknown people during her doubtful activities.

Chloé was going to lose interest to the life until her family contacts her again for offering a new departure.

When Marinette and Chloé met first time each other since a long time, they are both uncomfortable. Later, they learn to know each other (despite their coworker status).

They fall in love each other during their business trip (and they sleep together).

At their return, when Chloé makes Marinette aware the former had worked in a procuring group as dominatrix, their relationship turns into a sadomasoshist relation (they will mainly practice that in the Red Bedroom). Marinette consents to experiment BDSM sessions with Chloé. The bluenette plays the submissive while Chloé is the dominant.

The blondie feels guilty to bring her partner to that game.

The playlist:

The list of sketches at the bottom presents scenes with mature content [PG-13/R?] (No kids allowed):

Chloé "teaching a special lesson" to a topless Marinette

Marinette and Chloé in the bed after one of their "sessions" in the Red Bedroom

A weeping Chloé realizing about her situation: she hates her actual life, her dark job and herself

Two Kiss scenes/Two contrasts:

Dominatrix Chloe and a naked Marinette kissing together (Light, Love, Exaltion)

Marinette recomforting a tearful Chloé with a kiss (Tragic, Sadness, Sorrow)

[detentiontrack]

Oh wow you actually give quite good advice. Got any advice for highschoolers? I just started my freshman year (although probably some advice won’t be terribly applicable since the entire school is 25 people and my class is 4 kids, but it’s worth a shot. Also it might help other people.)

YES! I DO! So I went to a year and a half of high school before moving up to college and I HATED it. Here are some tips that would have made it suck less.

Learn to have a thicker skin. Easier said than done, I KNOW, but if someone says something mean to you, you can't let it bother you forever. Accept that they're just an asshole or are insecure and taking it out on others, and move on. Your worth is not defined by what some 14 year old bitch says about you.

It is not lame to have a good relationship with teachers! Talk to them, hang out with them during lunch, don't care what anyone else thinks.

Pack yourself a lunch every single day. Its healthier and you'll have more time to hang out during lunch.

Get involved! Join clubs, do student government or debate, do cast or crew for the fall musical. I did costumes for my freshman fall musical, and it's how I met one of my best friends who is still my best friend almost 5 years later (if you're reading this, you know who you are. ily <3)

Don't feel pressured to dress a certain way for fashion trends. I was a freshman in 2019/2020 so vsco girl/cottage core/""alt"" (that wasn't even really alternative) were very popular and I basically didn't wear any of my favorite clothes for a while. Just do what makes you happy.

Get a 504 or an IEP (educational/school accommodation plans) if you need one. They're life savers (if anyone wants another post on what was on my 504 for accommodations, lmk!)

Your body is inevitably going to change. Most people gain weight when they're in high school. Despite being a teenager, you are still a CHILD. Your body isn't going to look like an instagram model's. Don't let it get to you.

Always carry around pads or tampons with you. Even if you don't have periods. You never know when you or someone you know will get a surprise period.

Bring deodorant in your backpack every day. You will need it, even if you apply it in the morning.

Don't be that person who puts on heavy perfumes or body sprays in class. Just don't.

Take honors/AP classes if you can! They're honestly not that much more difficult and they look great on your record.

Do every single extra credit assignment!

Use google docs for everything

Take notes in every class, even if you already know the subject and notes aren't required.

Learn to study in high school, even if you don't need to. You WILL need to study in college and it's good to already know your studying style.

Take lots of photos! Even if you are insecure. You don't have to look at them, but someday you'll want to have them. I was deeply insecure in high school and have barely any photos of myself, and I deeply regret that.

You know those posts that are like "life may suck but at least I'm not 15 again"? Those posts are real. High school is NOT AT ALL the best years of your life, despite what everyone may tell you. Things can always get better.

Try not to date much in high school. Statistically, you are not going to marry your freshman year partner. Even if you think they're "the one", don't take it super seriously. You both have a lot of developing to do.

DO NOT EVER IN YOUR LIFE DATE A SENIOR AS A FRESHMAN. YOU ARE NOT MATURE FOR YOUR AGE. IT DOES NOT MAKE YOU COOL. THEY ARE NOT DIFFERENT OR SPECIAL. A 17/18 YEAR OLD HAS ABSOLOUTLEY NO BUSINESS DATING A 14/15 YEAR OLD. DO NOT GO THERE UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE. EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There is a LOT of pressure to lose your virginity in high school. That is bullshit. It's okay to not have sex until later. It's okay to never have sex. Anyone who tries to pressure you or tell you otherwise, is NOT someone you want in your life. The right sexual partner will respect your boundries and not try to pressure you into anything.

[brian-in-finance]

Cait #17. Personally, I think that outfit and look should score higher as well as a few others which are way better than the first 10. Still, she made the list which is good to see.

93 Of The Best Oscars Dresses Of All Time

https://www.elle.com/uk/fashion/celebrity-style/g26388237/best-oscar-dresses-ever/

Thanks for the message, Anon. 😃 I loved her 2020 ensemble… whilst never losing sight of fashion sense’s subjectivity (a sentiment that really hits home this London Fashion Week 😖).

Here’s Number 17:

Designer: Valentino / Year: 2020

Numbers 1 through 5 are under Elle’s text. Numbers 6 through 16, and 18 through 93, live in the link.

93 Of The Best Oscars Dresses Of All Time

From Barbra Streisand's exquisite Arnold Scassi pantsuit to Halle Berry in Elie Saab, we've collected the best Oscars dresses of all time.

For many, the Oscars awards ceremony is hotly anticipated for its choice of winners. Cinephiles discuss intently if Brendan Fraser's comeback role in The Whale will nab him Best Actor In A Leading Role, or if Paul Mescal will pip him to the post. Others tune in for the meme-making cultural moments, be it a slap heard around the world, or a calamitous misreading of 'Moonlight' as 'La La Land' (it could happen to anyone, right?).

But for us, and we suspect you too, it's the sport of red carpet dressing that keeps us coming back for more. Having the ability to promote (or demote) a near-unknown to a leading lady in the blink of a ballgown, the power of a stellar styled look cannot be understated. Be it Audrey Hepburn in Givenchy in 1954, Michelle Williams in Vera Wang in 2006, or Lupita Nyong'o in Prada there have been some truly marvellous -dare we say history-making - gowns worn by the best actors in the world on the night of the Academy Awards.

So devoted are we to the best dressed stars of the red carpet, ahead of the 96th Academy Awards (taking place on March 10 2024) we've gone through each and every one of them to find the 93 best Oscar dresses ever worn. You're welcome!

Designers: Jason Wu and Messika / Year: 2023

Designer: Alaïa / Year: 2023

Designer: Moschino / Year: 2023

Designer: Rodarte / Year: 2023

Designer: Jean Paul Gaultier Couture / Year: 2022

Elle

Photo: FarFarAwaySite

Remember… Irish actress Caitriona Balfe looked stunning — as per usual — on the red carpet at the 2020 Oscars in Valentino Haute Couture! The 40-year-old newlywed wore a unique outfit that involved a dress and a blouse when she walked the carpet at her first Academy Awards. She stunned in the black, fishtail-style gown which fell straight down her body in an extremely flattering style. But the strapless dress wasn’t the star of the show: it was the sheer pink blouse she wore over the top! The high-neck blouse was made of a very light material, and fell down to her hips. It also featured a gorgeous, oversized bow which she wore to the left of her neck. Stunning! The model-turned-actress accessorized with silver stud earrings and a matching silver ring and bracelet. Caitriona slicked her beautiful brunette tresses back into a tight bun near the nape of her neck, and polished her look with a bold red lipstick, and red nail polish. What a star! — Hollywood Life

[kiirastarr]

MIKI AIUICHI ; THE KIIRASTARR YUUSONA

CONTENT LIST:

summary

appearance / inspiration

personality

lore

relationships

chibis / alternate outfits

drabbles / references

SUMMARY

Miki Aiuichi is the 18 year old "otherwordly girl" at Night Raven College, lacking magic due to not originating from Twisted Wonderland. Despite being the same age as the 3rd years, her lack of knowledge when it came to magic resulted in her placement as a 1st year.

APPEARANCE / INSPIRATION

Miki is 168 centimeters tall (5'6") and has a slim build due to her prior occupation as a model. Her hair is naturally blonde, along with her pink irises. She's also slightly tanned, and has tan lines on her chest and legs.

Miki is Asian! To be specific, shes 1/2 Filipino, 1/4 Japanese, and 1/4 Vietnamese. How she has blonde hair naturally with those genes? Who knows.

Miki is usually seen dressed in a cropped, fitted tank top in magenta with black lace, low rise short shorts with rhinestones on the back pockets, silver necklaces and rings layered on her neck and fingers respectively, black heels, silver piercings on her ears, face, and belly, and a whale tail.

She tends to style her hair in a high ponytail and side bangs, the ponytail held up by a hairtie with two glossy pink hearts.

Her makeup is kept simple; eyeliner, mascara, light pink eyeshadow, light foundation, light concealer, primer, and lipgloss.

In terms of fashion, Miki's style is very broad. However, most of her outfits are very reminiscent of the 2000s substyle, McBling, along with hints of Agejo Gyaru and Bubblegum Bitch. Some other outfits Miki is seen in are based on the following: Ane Gyaru, Coconut Girl, Nymphet, etc.

Other inspirations consist of the following: 2000s pop song lyrics, Britney Spears, Ayesha, Jecka from Class of 09 (not the flipside!!), etc.

PERSONALITY

At first meeting, Miki will be extremely brash. he may or may have not developed this more assertive personality due to being thrusted into the spotlight at such a young age...

However, if you get to know her, Miki slowly but surely gets nicer. No more weird glares, strange looks, or bland voice. She'll actually pay more attention to you and your words, along with caring more about your feelings. She's a good person, just a bit... rough around the edges. But she means good!

Due to her somewhat stereotypical "mean girl" appearance, some people distance themselves from her. Miki does know this, and feels a tad bit bad that she kind of emits that sort of aura...

LORE

Miki was raised poor. Her father died from overworking himself, and her mother was a housewife with little to no education. Due to the lack of income, Miki and her mother were slowly deteriorating.

In school, Miki was bullied. She was usually harrassed over her tattered clothes, messy hair, lack of hygiene, and among other teases when it came to her being ugly. The jests made by her classmates made her more timid, and drilled in the idea that getting money fast was the clear solution to all her problems, thus leading to Miki's love towards riches. Getting a job at 11, Miki would save half her pay to get things like higher quality hygiene products, makeup, things like that.

At 13, Miki applied to become a model for a magazine directed to young girls. She was accepted. When her paycheck was placed into her hands, she couldn't stop staring at it. The huge pay got her hooked. She kept applying and applying... getting into photoshoot after photoshoot, which helped grow her popularity.

By the time highschool started, Miki was no longer the "poor, timid girl" she used to be. No longer was she trapped in poverty, sad and miserable due to seeing her mother cry every night out of guilt. She was now pretty, confident, and wealthy, all while balancing school.

Once she was brought to Twisted Wonderland, she was scared. What would happen to her beloved mother, her brand deals, the career she had spent years building? Oh, how it stressed her out! No worry, though! She just had to upkeep her appearance and everything would be fine!

Yeah, no.

Each overblot left Miki scarred and uglier than before.

The first overblot, Riddle Rosehearts. The thorns of the rose bushes had torn the skin from her neck to her chest, leaving a hideous scar. Part of the scar is also from the collar Riddle had summoned onto her.

The second overblot, Leona Kingscholar. He had touched Miki's hair, thus leading to her roughly hacking off her beloved locks with a knife.

The third overblot, Azul Ashengrotto. Attempting to steal her "magic", he had left a huge scar on the left side of her abdomen.

The fourth overblot, Jamil Viper. After being flung to the edge of Scarabia, nearby rocks had deeply cut her left arm, specifically the area near the elbow.

The fifth overblot, Vil Schoenheit. The poison and debris in the coliseum resulted in scarring on her right shoulder and hip, along with permanent damage to her lungs.

The sixth overblot, Idia Shroud. Between the phantoms, strain from Tartarus, and almost falling into the underworld, Miki had sustained heavy cuts in both her legs. This resulted in difficulty walking during the fight against Idia.

The seventh overblot, Malleus Draconia. Being put to sleep, the briars roughly dug into Miki's skin, leaving her left eye permanently scarred and blind.

By the end of it all, Miki had become her worst nightmare. Her old self, except older... and more hideous than before. She doesn't harbor resentment, but because of this, Miki isolates herself, afraid that once she returns back to Shibuya, she'll be shunned as an ugly freak of nature.

RELATIONSHIPS

If you couldn't tell I'm projecting my bias towards Azul here LOLLL

If you want to know more about the relationships in-depth, go ahead and ask! I don't mind answering any questions!

CHIBIS / OUTFIT GALLERY

read alt text for individual descriptions for each outfit ^_^

DRABBLES / REFERENCES

In the 1st image in this post, the quote is a reference to a lyric in the song DONTTRUSTME by Sean Foreman and Nathaniel Motte, better known as 3OH!3.

Miki was originally going to be a Gyaru, specifically Rokku, before I settled on the more Y2K McBling aesthetic.

Miki was originally going to be a HOE! Like, full on.

For her Ane Gyaru-esque outfit, the four necklaces on Miki's neck are actually necklaces I own in-person.

I know this is projecting BUTTT Miki LOVES Chiikawa. Her favorite is Hachiware because I said so.

[frogprincesnowglobe]

Since you’re taking asks right now, tell me more about Kristina’s late 1980s fashion when she attends Hillerska! (Bonus points if you come across catalogue photos that fit.)

I have so many thoughts on Queen Kristina when she was younger. If they did a spinoff it'd be called "Young Kristina". I don't know if she was a teen in the late 80s or going more into the 90s, and I don't know how the fashion varied in the 80s in Sweden from where I'm from but here's what I'm thinking for 16/17/18/19 year old Crown Princess Kristina:

Let's start with some pictures of the fabulous actress who plays Kristina, Pernilla August, in her early 30s in 1992 (I couldn't find anything younger), to give you a visual of what Kristina might look like.

I think that in the 80's Hillerska would have been the type of school to force the students into uniforms at all times, not just special occasions but they'd break the rules anyway.

The girls of course would buy shoulder pads to pad out the blazers of their uniforms. No homemade shoulder pads here.

Ignore the bad photoshop, but here is Kristina in her shoulder pad Hillerska uniform. She would 10000% be classier than this.

once I gave her shoulder pads I had to make her hair bigger and add a headband, but I actually think Kristina would do something a little more like the example pictures of Pernilla, or the blond model later on in this, something more sleek. Right is a much better representation of what the Hillerska blazer might look like from this 1987 catalog. I found that ages after photoshopping poor Sara into Kristina, ha.

When doing research I saw that the royal family at the time was more demur, with the girls in long dresses a lot, but they had no teens (at least that I could find to go off off.

Dresses her parent's would prefer for out and about on official Crown Princess duties, *not* what Kristina would prefer.

I think Kristina would favor a good pair of light wash jeans with a thin belt and a nice sweater for more casual wear, but her parents would prefer her in nice light dresses. She'd wear tennis skirts and a cardigan over the shoulders, nice black turtlenecks. I headcanon that she does tennis as an extra curricular. Her cousin Carl Johan Horn does rowing.

Kristina's shirt shoes and jeans vibes, and turtleneck vibes and 80's tennis skirt (from etsy) + August's dad hanging out with her in the upper picture.

When the girls have Saturday dinner dress up she'd wear heart lockets or long pearl strands. She'd definitely own a very nice diamond tennis bracelet too, though not for dinners.

Kristina's manor house dinner earrings, necklaces and pendants

Kristina's dinner looks (The left really feels Kristina to me)

Outfits like the below one from Heathers (or similar) would be an occasional outfit. I think she wouldn't be too ostentatious, at least in the day to day, but some of the other Manor house girls would wear these type of looks more often.

I think because Kristina is a royal she'd try to look a little older as well. We see especially in season 2 that they try to make Wille look older, and more polished and put together. So I think she'd sometimes wear more older looking styles, like the gray wool blazer and skirt.

First is from the spring 1985 Sears catalog, and I can't remember where I got the other two.

These summer looks are from the 1989 Sears Fashion book.

Winter looks from the Fall Winter 1988 Sears catalog (I'm pretty sure though she'd be much more bundled in Swedish winter, but she has a cute wool coat that looks like Wille's blue one) She'd wear a lot of thick sweaters! Peep August's dad Carl Johan in the upper right. :)

More Kristina vibes. Honestly I lost track of which catalog I was on but they're all from the 1985/1987/1988/1989 Sears and J.C. Penney Catalogs. Kristina likes slacks and button ups now, she'd definitely have liked it then.

Bonus Carl Johan Horn:

[alexstorm]

I was reading old interviews and it's funny how Alexa admitted she didn't get interesting modeling jobs before Alex yet some anons were really insistent about her being successful before him. Also she said that she had a stylist and on her website you can see they still worked together until a few years ago. And apparently she found tlsp's first album cover photo.

"She insists there was nothing glamorous about life as a model. "I never got to wear the good stuff. I was a teen model, jumping around, very commercial." She came to hate it."

"She started going out with Turner 18 months ago, securing her place at the top of every guest list."

"She's even modelling again, though this time around it's "a totally different experience. I get to work with great photographers, wear lovely clothes, be part of the creative process."

"Apropos a story about buying ribbons to tie in low ponytails ("Nicked from Julie Christie in Dr Zhivago"), she veers into an aside about a photography book from 1962 she found in Dover Street market - Five Girls, by Sam Haskins. "It has all these amazing pictures of girls wearing boys' shirts and stuff, but they're all so sexy. My boyfriend used one of the pictures on an album cover." (For The Last Shadow Puppets, Turner's side project of last year.) So you found the photo, then he used it for the cover? She goes a bit pink. "Oh, no, I mean, it wasn't my idea or anything." I suspect it was."

Also a few things I found interesting lol:

"I'm rereading The Great Gatsby, because I gave it to my boyfriend"

"When I ask her favourite song lyric, she recites Dr Dre"

"Having got this far without having taken my clothes off, I can't see the point in doing it now. If my boyfriend finds me sexy, then I don't need that kind of male attention from anyone else."

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2009/feb/28/alexa-chung-fashion-celebrity

"She has a stylist, Steph Stevens from ElleGirl, who helps her choose clothes for television shows: "But in all the pictures you see in the papers I've chosen my clothes. People are shit when they deny they have a stylist, but she hasn't changed how I dress. She literally has the discount cards. And she got me into stripes."

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2008/mar/31/television

Yeah, I know all this because I’ve been there at the time. She was a nobody but certain people write revisionist history to make her look bigger just like they try with Louise now and her being “independent” and “having a job”. These women were nothing without him.

[littlecoffeeadict]

My Urban Explorer DR✨️🎥🕵‍♀️

✨️Friends and Family✨️

Tess Miyer-Nolan (Friend)

Age: 17 (2001)

Parents: Mike and Esther

-they are not that strict

-as long as Tess has A's and B's in school she can stay as long outside as she wants

-they like to invite us all over from time to time

-They live in a beautiful house with a dog named Haniball

Grades: mostly B's, has an A in Art

Hobbys: drawing, urban exploring

Friend group: Alex, Chris, Belle, later Benji

Dream Job: Arts Teacher at a college

Sexuality: Pansexual

Outfit inspo:

music taste:

Character: Tess likes to laugh a lot, and will always tell her opinion. She's a feminist and pansexual, also she won't tell anyone if she has trouble. She's obsessed with a thousand fictional characters, such as Steve Rogers, Izzy Lightwood, Magnus Bane, Loki, Sirius Black and Dina from the Last of Us

Alex Savage (Friend)

Age: 18 (2000)

Parents:

-It's only him, his little Brother Benji and his Mom Amanda

-They live in an apartmentcomplex

-His Mom is pretty chill about school and Grades and stuff like our Hobby

-after our tours we mostly go to his place and she Orders pizza or cooks something for us

-she wants us to call her Amanda, and loves us like her own children

Grades: mostly B's and C's, but an A in PE (wich he is realy proud of)

Hobbys: Urban Exploring, skating, playing E-Guitare (his favourite is Livin on a Prayer)

Friend group: Tess, Chris, Belle, the people he skates with, his little Brother Benji

Dream Job: Professional Dancer

Sexuality: Bisexual

Outfit inspo:

Music taste:

Character: Alex likes to live dangerously, he's realy impulsive and likes to try New things. He can be realy stubborn, but in the end he would do anything for the people he loves. He is sometimes a bit too flirty, and he likes to make me blush. He also loves Dancing, and always makes me do TikTok Dances with him, and we always have a lot of fun.

Christopher (Chris) Beaumont (Friend)

Age: 19 (1999)

Parents:

-Sofia and Edmund Beaumont, he also has a little Brother named Lewis

-they both come from super rich familys and have their own clothing line, with is super succesfull

-they are realy rich

-at their home they like to host dinner Partys and galas, and they always invite us

- they love us all, cause Chris didn't have many friends until he meet us

-they made college Funds not only for Chris but also for Lewis, Benji, Alex, Tess and me

-Sofia likes to dress me and Tess for her Galas

-Edmund likes to talk to Alex about skating, a Hobby he wanted to do as a teenager but his parents didn't allowed it

-they are realy proud of their sons

-they live in a big mansion With a lot of staff (such as a personal cook, a cleaning crew and a gardener) and a cat named princess Christina the 3rd

Grades: straight A's, he graduated Last year, but he's waiting with college cause he want's to go to college with us al together. Till then he's jobbing as a Model in his parents agency.

Hobbys: Urban Exploring, Writing, reading, designing his own clothes

Friend group: Alex, Tess, Belle, a few Kids of his parents friends, later Benji, his little Brother Lewis

Dream Job: Fashion Designer

Sexuality: Straight, Ally

Outfit inspo:

Music taste:

Character: Chris has always been rather quiet, atleast until he fully trusts someone. Then he is realy vocal about his Feelings. He will always stay besides you and is very loyal. If you are down he will find a way to cheer you up, and when he is down he will silently cry into your shoulder.

Benji Savage (Friend)

Age: 16 (2002)

Parents: It's only him, his older Brother Alex and his Mom Amanda

-They live in an apartmentcomplex

-His Mom is pretty chill about school and Grades and stuff

-she loves him unconditionally, and it broke her heart when he had Trouble finding friends

-she wants us to call her Amanda, and loves us like her own children

Grades: mostly B's, a few D's and C's here and there

Hobbys: Riding his bike, playing old Video Games (Pack Man, Donkey Kong, or old Super Mario Games), Urban Exploring, spraying Graffiti

Friend group: his Brother Alex, Tess, Chris, Belle, later Lewis

Dream Job: he doesn't know yet

Sexuality: Straight, Ally (sometimes questioning, mostly when he's with Lewis😉)

Outfit inspo:

Music taste:

Character: Benji never had many friends, all tho he always wished for them. He is realy loyal out of fear someone's gonna leave him. He always gets himself in trouble, but somehow manages to talk himself out of the situation. He idializes his big Brother, and when he is finaly seen as a friend and not as Alex little brother, he is over the moon. He is realy positiv most of the time, and Talks and laughs a lot.

Lewis Beaumont (2003) (Friend)

Age: 15

Parents: -Sofia and Edmund Beaumont, he also has an older Brother named Chris

-they both come from super rich familys and have their own clothing line, with is super succesfull

-they are realy rich-at their home they like to host dinner Partys and galas, and they always invite us

- they don't really understand him, but they always try their best-they made college Funds not only for Chris but also for Lewis, Benji, Alex, Tess and me

-Sofia likes to dress me and Tess for her Galas

-Edmund likes to talk to Alex about skating, a Hobby he wanted to do as a teenager but his parents didn't allowed it

-they are realy proud of their sons

-they live in a big mansion With a lot of staff (such as a personal cook, a cleaning crew and a gardener) and a cat named princess Christina the 3rd

Grades: just like his brother straight A's

Hobbys: reading, chess, taking long walks in the forest, later Urban exploring

Friend group: his brother Chris, Belle, later Tess Alex and Benji

Dream Job: something with History

Sexuality: Aro-Ace

Outfit inspo:

music taste:

Character:Lewis was always a loner, and unlike Benji he never wanted friends. He needs to trust a person deeply before he opens up about his feeling, and even then he doesn't talk much. He will listen to you for countless hours, and play your therapist, and when he is down he will like to just sit in silence for as long as he wants, Till he's ready to talk.

Derek Freewill (Brother)

Age: 24 (1993)

Parents:

-they're both dead, they died when Derek Was 20 and Belle was 13, since then it has only been them

-they left behind an owned apartment, and a family Company (a publisher Company called Freewill Books) wich Derek now runs

Grades: he was a straight A student

Hobbys: he doesn't have much time as he now owns the family buisness, but when he has time over he likes to cook like a home cheff, and ofc reading

Friend group: he doesnt have much friends, just a few people from work and of course his sister Belle

Sexuality: Straight, Ally

Outfit inspo:

Character: Derek needs to take over all the responsebilitys in his small family, but besides from that he is loving. He just want's me to be happy. He always asks how my Day was, and he will do everything to ensure that I can live my live the way I want it.

Professor Solaris (Teacher)

Age: 27

Family: married to his husband celestar, has a cat called Nebulus

Hobbys: reading, philosophy, cooking, reality shifting

Friends: is on first name basis with all his students, realy popular among all the teachers

Musictaste: 60s Oldies

Sexuality: Asexual, Panromantic

Character: a really open personality, alsways calm and understanding, always relatable, will listen to your problems and help you

Backstorry: Solaris is a shifter who permashifted a few years ago, before that he shifted mostly to fantasy worlds and his favourite books, he knows that I am a shifter and will always listen to me if I have doubts, need Motivation or talk to me about our ORs.

Belle Freewill (✨️Me✨️)

Age: 17 (31.10.2000)

Parents: -they're both dead, they died when Derek Was 20 and Belle was 13, since then it has only been them

-they left behind an owned apartment, and a family Company (a publisher called Freewill Books) wich Derek now runs

Grades: straight A's (and I don't need to do anything for that) (finally want that feeling of getting 100% on every test) (but I don't wan't to study)

Hobbys: reading, writing, urban exploring, skating, taking long walks in the forest, chess, listening to Music

Friend group: Chris, Alex, Tess, Benji, Lewis, her Brother Derek

Sexuality: Bisexual

Outfit inspo:

Character: I am open and loud, and laugh a lot and easiely. I like to make other people laugh and am compasionate, I also often play other peoples therapist. I am sometimes impulsive, and I always speak what I think. I'm also good at analyzing people, so good that it sometimes scares my friends. People easiely fall in Love with me and want to be my friend, also I have natural charm and am flirty.

Backstory: My parents died when I was 13 (2013), and shortly after that my brother got full costody and we moved back to the USA (we lived in Germany before, so we speak german, but our parents were from America), and we both got the dual citizenship. Derek took over the family Company and I startet going to school there. That is where I meet Alex. He was my first friend, and when we were sixteen Tess and Chris came on top. We have been best friends ever since, and startet making YouTube Videos in 2016, right after we all got in one friendgroup. It is now spring 2018 and I'm turning 18 in Oktober.

4 Passers (our YouTube Chanel)

Subscribers: About 16 Million

Legalism:

-we never get in Trouble With the police

-nobody will caught us

-we never get in trouble for what we are doing

Colaborations: many People ask us for Colaborations, and we make friends with many different YouTubers like Pete Monzingo, CallmeKris, Sam and Colby and many others

Comunity: we have a strong and supporting Comunity, and a lot of Fans make edits of us on Tik Tok and YouTube Shorts.

Money: we all split the money we get out of YouTube, and it goes to our Bank Accounts

Videos: Touring with us trough abandoned places, Colabs, Q&As (sometimes while exploring), telling spooky stories

Home: the USA, we travel a lot between different states on the weekends, but we live in California

Time Ratio: 1Day in the CR = 1Week in the DR

School: Alex, Benji and Tess go to the same school as me, we always meet up in the breaks, and Chris often meets us after school. He always drives us to our next locations, sometimes it's an abandoned place and sometimes his or Alex home

[miraculous-magicalconnections]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste Alternate Outfits

For the alternate outfits I wanted to give them pajamas, a swimsuit, something fancy/dress up, and two additional casual/everyday outfits (which are in the order from left to right)

If you want to see their main design, you can check the pinned post on my blog or click here

(Note: I can't draw feet so for her pajamas and swimsuit they're just not there)

For Marinette's pajamas it's just a simple white t-shirt with green boxers, the boxers she found after meeting Chat Noir and (although she'd never admit it) bought them as they reminded her of him

Her swimsuit is a mismatched top and bottom, because I felt like all the characters being in one-pieces felt unrealistic and I wanted to switch them up

Her dress is a mixture of a couple different dress I found online, made specifically to give her extra mobility with slits on both sides, and for that same reason she wears flats instead of heels (which are the same color as her camouflaged Miraculous)

For her first alternate casual outfit, I wanted to play into the running gag in Power Rangers where as civilians they wear their ranger color so she wears red, otherwise it's a simple outfit as she doesn't like to go all out

Her second alternate outfit is pink shirt and black shorts, just to add a bit more variety to her outfit choices

Her entire set may seem rather simple but that's the point, Marinette's a fashion designer and while obviously she has an eye for fashion and loves it, she also doesn't want to be surrounded by overly fancy clothes 24/7

So aside from her making some of her clothes (namely her dress) I didn't like the idea that she'd be completely overdressed just because she designs clothes

(Note: I can't draw feet so for his pajamas and swimsuit they're just not there)

For Adrien's pajamas I just went simple with black boxers, and this is the only times Adrien will take of his prosthetic (aside from showering)

For his swimsuit, I took inspiration from his in canon but changed them to be actual shorts and just gave them white stripes, thankfully due to the advanced nature of his prosthetic he doesn't NEED to remove it, but he often times does if he's alone or just with someone who knows

For his suit, it's a simple black two piece with a white undershirt, black tie, and dress shoes because of his father, if he didn't need to appease his father's wishes, he'd likely just wear a button up

For his additional casual look I gave him a very dark, almost black turtle neck and blue jeans which is his "Gabriel approved outfit" he wears whenever he doesn't need to wear a suit to any Gabriel function

And his final extra outfit is a dark green t-shirt and light blue jeans with an arm covering to hide his prosthetic

If you read his backstory, you'll know that Adrien lost his right arm in the accident that killed his mom, so he doesn't wear his prosthetic while he sleeps and covers it any chance he can get

This was unintentional originally, as it just happened, but I made most of his outfits black to further show just how much control Gabriel has over Adrien even if Adrien isn't as under his control like in canon

Aside from the accidental outfit-storytelling I made, his outfits didn't really have a set reasoning aside from thinking "what would an 18-year-old model who doesn't want to be a model wear?" which led me to very basic outfits with minimal color, this also helps contrast his two main outfits being the white long-sleeve shirt I posted in his redesign post (which is linked on my blog) and the green t-shirt outfit which he wears less commonly but more than the others

[phagechildon]

| Hualian Modern AU |

| Rated Mature | 18+ |

| TW: stalking, kidnapping, torture, rape, child abuse, domestic abuse, drugged, etc. Will add more as it goes on! |

| Summary: After years of unspeakable torment, Xie Lian is saved by his old master and family friend Jun Wu. As he tries to learn how to live, he makes his first decision for himself; to be a main character in an upcoming drama. Jun Wu is supportive, but doesn’t seem very happy with the arrangement. Thankfully his co-Star Hua Cheng keeps him from quitting… and helps him learn how to be alive again. Of course, Xie Lian’s past comes back to haunt him, and Hua Cheng is determined to do everything in his power to keep Xie Lian safe. |

I will post this to AO3 once I’ve written more~ don’t know what to name it just yet ;///; I’ll come back to edit it!! ♥️

—-

Itchy. Everything was itchy. Anxiety whispered to his conscious, convincing him to fidget and scratch at his skin.

Today was a big day, one that was far too important to screw up. If things went south, if he wasn’t good enough or couldn’t push himself to do it, he’d be trapped in the same monotonous, mind-numbing loop that made him question if he was even alive.

This new career wasn’t too far from what he was currently doing. Modeling. From men’s fashion to women’s wedding dresses, Xie Lian’s image was pasted on everything his agent could get her hands on. Colognes, lotions, hair and facial care - products that were meaningless to him showed his non-consented support.

That was the theme of his life.

Seeing himself everywhere made Xie Lian question if he really was the androgynous subject in the pictures. Then he’d spot the severe scar around his neck with matching ones on his ankles and wrists. Some lighter than others, but still there.

Always there, reminding him of what he truly was.

This gig would only make his dysphoria even worse. He knew that. More people would know him, his image would be impossible to miss. Yet it was something different, something he got to choose.

Strong fingers sunk into the meat of his shoulders, a silent reminder that he wasn’t alone.

He was never alone.

“Xianle, breath. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

But he did. He desperately did. For the first time since he was seven years old, he made a choice for himself. Suffocating, gut-wrenching, liberating. Like a breath of fresh air interrupted by blood pooling into his throat, his anxiety threatened to drown him.

He couldn’t do this - he couldn’t!

But he had to. He had to do something.

Trembling fingers curled and buried themselves in his pockets, his honey-combed eyes scanning over the drama script on the table before them. “I want to be here. I’m just… nervous.”

The pressure on his shoulders grew sharper, like teeth that threatened to tear his skin apart. He hated it, feared it - couldn’t live without it.

Grounding. Mind-breaking.

“I won’t be disappointed if you aren’t ready for this.”

It wasn’t the disappointment he was worried about. Not completely.

“Healing takes time.”

Xie Lian didn’t know whether to internally laugh or cry. Healing takes time. For normal people, yes. But not for him. If he couldn’t do this, if he couldn’t break free and find a routine he chose for himself, he’d be as dead as the world declared him to be years ago.

A soft knock pulled him from his spiraling thoughts, eyes glancing up at the door curiously. What a soft rap at the door; it was nearly inaudible. Had he imagined it?

Another knock, this time it was a little louder. Oddly enough, Xie Lian didn’t feel as anxious as he normally did, only curious as to whom this person was. For someone who was on set for a drama production, they seemed a little shy.

“Come in,” Jun Wu called, not seeming to have noticed the first soft knock.

Slowly the door opened, revealing a strikingly handsome man with long black hair wearing a blood red suit with an eyepatch covering his right eye. This man was partially responsible for why he said yes to the drama role. To think he was finally meeting him!

“Apologies for the delay. Please, have a seat,” the man softly smiled, his voice deep and smooth as warm honey. Xie Lian offered a genuine smile as he took a seat, Jun Wu doing the same next to him.

“I’ve been looking forward to finally meeting you,” he said, walking up to the table the doe-eyed Xie Lian sat at. “I’m Hua Cheng, as you may know. I’m honored to have you in my studio.” As he finished, he pulled his arm out from behind his back, revealing beautiful white flowers. Sparkles of awe and wonder filled Xie Lian’s eyes, his heart stopping in his chest. Over the years, he’s been given nearly every flower in every shop in the country. Each arrangement was beautiful in both appearance and aroma, but these were nothing like the others. The petals were long and flawlessly white, the ends curling like hair as another layer of pedals did the same underneath. And the smell - it was so comforting he nearly didn’t notice his face was nearly buried in them.

Such a simple flower, yet it was the only one that stole his breath.

A hand gripped his wrist, pulling him out of his revere and into the dark recesses of his mind. “Xianle, you’re going to set off your allergies.”

Jun Wu - it was just Jun Wu.

With a quick thankful smile, Xie Lian buried the fear and set the flowers aside. “They’re gorgeous, thank you. What kind of flowers are they?”

The smile that had fallen from Hua Cheng’s face came back more mischievous than before. “That’s a secret,” he winked. Behind him another man approached. His long hair was pulled back into a drooping ponytail while his clothes were unremarkably black. If Xie Lian was being honest, there wasn’t anything that really stood out to him. He was a face he’d probably forget once they finished their meeting today.

Hua Cheng set his palm out, to which the silent man dropped two books onto it. One was the script - Xie Lian recognized it as the same one he’d read through - but the other was a mystery. “Did you have time to read over the script?”

Jun Wu’s eyebrows narrowed in annoyance. This man didn’t even ask him to introduce himself. Great. That was a strike against the drama. Xie Lian had to act fast.

“I did. I was so moved I couldn’t put it down.” A real page turner was hard to find these days. “Who wrote it? The writer didn’t sign their name.”

That smirk grew even deeper, looking even more mischievous. Xie Lian felt his heart stutter for some reason. “That’s a surprise too.”

“I would like to know the author,” Jun Wu immediately interjected. “I can’t have someone else’s bad rap sheet ruin Xianle’s.”

“The author wanted to remain anonymous, but I can assure you I would never pick up a script from filthy scum and trash.” Despite replying to Jun Wu, that lone deep red eye never strayed from Xie Lian. Weird. Normally he’d feel incredibly uncomfortable right now. He hated everyone’s eyes on him, but this stare wasn’t malicious. It was filled with such joy Xie Lian didn’t understand.

“It’s a beautiful story.” Xie Lian complimented.

“I’m relieved. Are there any parts you don’t particularly like? That make you feel uncomfortable?” Xie Lian’s eyes widened at the questions, wondering if he was hearing Hua Cheng right. No one ever cared about his opinion. “The author gave us permission to change anything we need to as long as the main story stays intact.”

Starstruck. Xie Lian didn’t even know how to respond. Would the author and production crew really change something that made him uncomfortable? While that was extremely hard to accomplish, he could hardly believe how accommodating they were. The modeling crew never bothered to listen to what he had to say, even if it was for his safety and well being. He stopped voicing his complaints long ago.

“I liked everything about it,” he admitted, anxiously using his index finger to lightly scratch his cheek. “I’ve only modeled before though.” Maybe this was a mistake after all. They deserved someone experienced, someone with talent, not someone who was trying to find himself again.

A small laugh, a ray of light escaped the man’s lips, that uncovered eye shining even brighter. “Don’t be scared. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“Why is there no kiss scene?” Jun Wu spoke up, tapping his fingers on the table. “This is a romance. You’ll lose your viewers if you don’t have intimacy.” A light blush painted Xie Lian’s cheeks, avoiding the handsome man’s gaze. Dear god. He was used to kissing people, but for some reason the thought of kissing the man in front of him made his heart race and clench.

“A romance doesn’t need physical intimacy,” Hua Cheng’s voice grew a little sharp, catching Xie Lian off guard. “It blooms between the characters naturally, like a real healthy relationship should.”

“You’re going to lose your audience,” Jun Wu raised a mocking eyebrow. “If there isn’t a kiss or sex scene, they won’t care for season two.”

Kiss. Sex scene. The pink on his cheeks faded as his shoulders crumbled in on themselves a bit. That’s why he liked the story so much. The two characters fell in love with who the other was, not for what they could physically provide them. The hugs and tight embraces they shared in the script were full of emotion and purpose.

Hua Cheng said the story was about a true, healthy relationship. It sounded… nice. It sounded like a dream.

“Adding that would completely ruin the story and the characters themselves. If people lose interest, that’s on them. They could probably learn a thing or two from the characters,” Hua Cheng replied, that edge still laced in his tone. “Besides, I would never recommend such a script to Xie Lian. As his guardian, retired officer, and his sponsor, it’s disgusting you’d even suggest such a thing.”

Oh shit - holy shit Xie Lian’s eyes went wide with fear, joy and shock. No one’s ever talked back to Jun Wu like that. They’d exchange looks when he’d suggest something of the sort, but no one bothered to defend him. God knew he couldn’t say no.

After a brief silence, Jun Wu simply sat up in his seat, his eyes bearing intensely into Hua Cheng. “I was only looking out for your production’s best interest.”

“It would be in your best interest to be mindful of what you try subjecting Xie Lian to without consulting him first.”

Another stretch of silence. This one filled the room with such thick tension that it felt like something would detonate any second and cause a catastrophe.

“I do have a question!” Xie Lian quickly intervened, hoping to calm everyone down a bit. “There won’t be any flashing lights, right?”

The question made Hua Cheng’s face soften. “Not at all. I understand you have an eye condition. If at any point one of the set lights triggers them, please yell cut. I do not want you to hurt yourself.”

Xie Lian’s mouth felt a little dry, his eyes burning ever so slightly. They knew about his eye condition. Not only that, they wanted him to take control and say cut if need be. This… was too much. Maybe he wasn’t ready for this afterall.

“That won’t be a problem, he’s used to that.” The glare Hua Cheng gave was ice cold, one he knew with certainty Jun Wu would not tolerate.

“Ahahaha it’s true it’s true! Uhm, Hua Cheng, what’s the other book in your hand?” Xie Lian squeaked out, resting his chin in his hands.

“Oh this?” Hua Cheng’s expression softened once more, holding up the larger book. “This is the illustrated storyboard with the T storyboard alongside it. As we rehearse the lines, I figured it would be a good idea to see the camera angles and when they cut to each line.”

“That’s a really good idea!” Xie Lian gaped, truly meaning it. He could really prepare himself for what they expected of him!

Hua Cheng went around the table and took a seat beside Xie Lian, seeming to ignore Jun Wu’s presence all together now. Thank god. “Alright, let’s start by simply reading the lines out loud.”

---

[sweetbillwriting]

Love Just Happens

Part 8 - A Piece of Her

Description: Bill Skarsgård, a 40 years old separated father of three tries to live as simple as he can but then he meet Aurora Lou and life becomes even more complicated.

Characters: The future's Bill Skarsgård and others close to him. The rest is my own characters.

Setting: This story is set in the future but because it's hard to say how the world is then (and it isn't that important for the story) the future is similar to our time now, even with fashion and so on.

Warnings: 18+, age difference, smut, alcohol, ageism, jealousy, posessiveness, bullying, sexism, kinks and fetishes, talk about pregnancy.

Notes: As usual have @b-afterhours helped me with the language 💗

The end of May

She looked at their faces, both so happy with smooth skin. Dressed up in the finest clothes. They stood on a red carpet together, he was much taller than her, even if she wore the highest black strappy heels with her spaghetti strapped dress. The dress was made of a thin aqua blue material with swarovski crystals that floated over her body like liquid. Her hair was still as platinum blonde as the first time she saw her. She looked like the embodiment of a gorgeous celebrity and then it was him. He, in all his 6 '4 glory in a dark blue silky suit with a black button up under. His hair, perfectly styled and his face smoothly shaved. He looked more stylish and richer than she had ever seen him. He looked more handsome and glowing with a big smile on his lips while she looked up at him like a giggling school girl. It was insane to see. Everyone in her circle said the same; that they didn't fit together. That he looked silly with such a young girl. Everyone called her girl, like she was fifteen and had a crush on her teacher, unfortunately that wasn't the case.

Bill's ex looked at another picture of them, out and about in L.A. Bill was dressed in dark jeans and a bomber jacket while Aurora tripped around in a short purple dress with yellow butterflies and platform sneakers. Was she trying to look like she could be his daughter? The black and white picture of them laughing lovesick with their heads close together had gotten more than 12 million likes on Aurora's Instagram. For his ex it was hard to understand how everyone outside of her circle just seemed to see them as cute together and couldn't see it as problematic. She wondered if he was with Aurora to get more attention, one more factor of his mid life crisis. She scrolled Aurora's Instagram, it was full of glossy magazine quality pictures mixed with homey pictures of her dogs, plants and food, obviously made by Bill.

"Are you looking at that again?" Asked her boyfriend while he crawled down in bed. He knew she was a bit obsessed with looking at her ex's new partner but didn't get jealous. He could see that the situation was extremely special and on top of that her daughters loved the new girlfriend. Her oldest daughter could even video call her to get advice about friends and style. She had stopped hanging out with the girls that were bad for her thanks to Aurora while she hadn't listened to her parents.

"It's just… I can't really understand the hype around her. Are these kinds of girls, "women", who should be role models for the next generation? I just wonder how my daughters will be affected by this?"

She showed him a picture of Aurora in a bikini that looked like it was made of pink plastic laying on a plastic lounge chair in the same color with her hair perfectly straight and shiny. It was obvious the whole picture was made to look plastic because the caption was "recycled plastic". Henrik smirked. It was hard to look at the picture without smiling, at least if you were a straight man.

"She does think about the environment," he joked and scratched his salt and pepper beard. His girlfriend rolled her eyes. His reaction wasn't the one she wanted and just made her more annoyed. All men became brain dead as soon as a young gorgeous girl came into the room. Even worse if she took off her clothes.

×××

Timmy Laurent had always seen himself as a catch. He was talented, rich, handsome and funny. He was sexy and intelligent. Sometimes a bit too cocky but it was mostly charming. His ex, Aurora Lou and him had been a couple since the both of them were 18. She was still shy and uncomfortable in the spotlight, while he was born for the spotlight and dragged her into it so she would get used to it. He thought it was thanks to him that she had gotten her fame, without him she would have never had the big name she had today. Why she became more loved and famous than him was a mystery for him and he had a theory that she had slept with some influential people behind his back. All girls were sluts if they needed to be.

He looked at the picture of Aurora and her new love. Actor Bill Skarsgård, 40. He was tall as hell and looked like he stood with one foot in the grave. He could see that the guy was handsome but he looked like the kind of guy that would be committed to some dry European actress, not someone as colorful and bubblegum sweet as Aurora. He sat on the couch in his New York apartment and googled pictures of Aurora together with her new boyfriend. Maybe there was some sort of charm in their different looks. He was so tall, brooding and mostly dressed in black while she was so short with her long blonde hair, cute outfits and friendly smile but Timmy would rather think about the negatives. That Bill was obviously there to use Aurora. He wanted her fame, her money and to fuck a girl that wasn't stretched out by other old dirty men. Aurora had always been naive, stupid even, so she had probably been easy. The actor had probably pulled the card about him being better and more mature than other guys she's been with and she believed it because he was older and because of that believed he knew better. No, Bill was not the guy for Aurora. There was just one guy for her, everyone knew that. He closed the window with the pictures and opened his mail instead. Maybe he needed to help Aurora and Bill to realize they were not a good match.

×××

She trekked around on her high pink heels in the roomy apartment, dragged her long nails over the black couch and looked out over South Stockholm with her brown eyes, framed with long lashes.

"It's nice…" she said shyly and adjusted her white bag on her arm.

He was occupied watching her legs, adorned with white thigh high socks under the short pink skirt.

"Where did you say your wife was?" She asked carefully, fixing the white socks.

"Business trip for three weeks." He said with a heavy Swedish accent, licked his lips and leaned against the door frame with his hands in his front pockets.

"Hopefully I’ll find something of my own by then…" she leaned down to look at a book about film photography on the coffee table and the skirt was so short he could see everything and that she had skipped panties that day. He could immediately feel himself grow in his pants. He cleared his voice and she stood up and watched him with an innocent face. She was good at that, looking like the world was completely new for her.

"Your dad said that you’re going to study at the university…"

"Yeah Scandinavian history." She sat down on the couch and took off her platform heels. He sat down close to her, a bit too close and spread his legs so she couldn't miss that he was hard under his black suit pants.

"How old are you?" He asked while dragging a hand down her back. She played with the edge of her skirt and seemed to be oblivious that he could see her bare pussy. She giggled shyly and looked at the handsome man next to her. He smiled cockily and looked under her skirt again.

"You say it first!" She said teasingly.

"48." He scratched the stubble on his jaw and gave her a confident look. Such a look only a man at a mature age can give. She knew that if he put on some years to his age she should pull off some years of hers.

"I'm 19."

He laid his head to the side with a smile.

"So that's why your parents said that I should take care of you. Come here, sit in my lap." He patted his thick thighs and then took her hand to help her straddle his lap with her soles flat against the couch.

"That's better, right?" He asked with a smile and dragged his hands over her legs. She was smooth as silk, he liked that but had a thing for her little bit unshaved. It felt so intimate, something few got to see but because of the premiere in a couple of days she had waxed every part of herself.

"Yeah. Your thighs are comfy." She bounced in his lap and he could feel action in his pants again.

"But baby girl… Now while I'm going to take care of you I must say something." She looked at his serious face with big eyes and played with one of the buttons on his white button up.

"You can't walk around without panties. Of course you can do that here at home, with me. But not on the streets.”

She nodded a little.

"But of course you can show your little pussy to me? Maybe even now?"

She giggled and lifted her skirt shamelessly. He sighed aroused and played with the edge of her socks.

"Has someone ever taken care of your pussy?" He said it filthy and his eyes became heavy. "I think your parents would love it if I took care of your pussy too." Carefully he dragged a finger over her slit and made her squirm in his lap. He spread her pussy lips with two fingers and found her clit with his other hand. It made her moan and spread her legs as much as she could.

"Yeah… Yeah please take care of my pussy…"

×××

Aurora straddled over Bill's hips in his bed in Stockholm. Dressed in a commercial t-shirt from his local gym and panties. It was almost surreal seeing her in his environment. Between his cheap H&M sheets he had bought when he moved in. In his minimalistic apartment in South Stockholm, the area he had lived in as a baby, learned to ride a bike and got his first kiss. And now she was there. That glorious creature that made him smile in a way he never had. That made him question things he had always believed.

He closed his eyes again with a sigh and continued to smile just as brightly.

"And don't just say something now, feel!" She said hitting his chest playfully then she started to draw with a long nail on his chest. It tickled and his first reaction was to push away her hand but knew he was a part of the game now.

"An egg?" He guessed.

"No." She drew again.

"Pancake?"

"Now you're just saying shit again!"

"I’m not! Draw it again!"

She drew again while Bill played with her panties.

"A dick?" He smirked and laughed when she hit his chest again.

"Do you think I want dick for breakfast?" She said with fake annoyance.

"You always want dick for breakfast," he said and looked at her with wiggling eyebrows.

"You are gross!" She pretended to pout with crossed arms.

"Okay, okay, do it again."

She leaned down and drew on his chest again. He really tried to feel.

"No, I don't know babe. It just feels like you’re drawing poo!"

She laughed and sat up again.

"It's a cinnamon roll," she said sweetly and dragged her fingertips down his bare stomach.

"But that's not breakfast. Of course I couldn't guess that!"

"If you actually had tried to feel you have been able to!"

He shook his head with a smile.

"So make that for me," she said and laid her chin on his chest and pouted. He looked down at her with furrowed brows.

"What?"

"Cinnamon rolls!"

"You mean I should bake? Now?"

"No, you can go out and buy it." She tried to look as sweet as possible and Bill stretched his arm with a loud groan.

"No… I'm too tired!" He laid down his arms again and closed his eyes but opened them again when Aurora moved from the bed without complaining. She pulled on his sweatpants, many sizes too big and pulled her hair up in a high ponytail.

"What are you doing?" He said confused and put a hand down in his black boxers to fix his member.

"If you won't go I’ll just do it myself." She twisted the t-shirt and pulled the hem into a knot so it became tighter and cropped. Bill looked at her petite stature, the visible nipples and her bare waist.

"Alone?"

Swedes may be shy people but someone as known as Aurora would make people more daring, especially the weird kind of people. With her look she didn't even need to be famous to have every dirty guy in South Stockholm tail after her.

"You can go with me if you want." She shrugged her shoulders and pulled the sweatpants down a bit more so more of her waist but also her pantyline became visible. Bill sat up and continued to look her up and down. He had never been the controlling kind of guy, not even the worried type but everything about her made him always feel a need to protect her.

"Ehh… You can stay here otherwise? I’ll go then?" He stood up and searched for something to wear. Since Aurora was wearing the clothes he had on the night before.

"I must go out sometime?” She said with a smirk and pulled off the sweatpants and gave it to him. Bill pulled them on and then dragged her close to him.

"Yeah but until then you won’t be wearing an almost see through t-shirt and pants so big you will drop them to the ground." He spanked her ass and she jumped in surprise. She giggled and laid her arms around his neck and sat her foot against his thigh so she could more or less climb him.

"You are so jealous…" she said when she had her legs around his waist.

"Nooo…" he said with a smile.

"Yes you are, but it's okay… Because I know it's because you're crazy in love with me," she said with a silly voice and threw her ponytail around. He didn't say anything but he kissed her hard.

After having eaten one too many cinnamon rolls with even more coffee, Bill and Aurora laid on the couch to just watch Swedish morning programs with English subtitles and snuggle. Bill could have laid like that all day and searched for a series for them to watch but Aurora felt restless after having been locked in in Bill's apartment for two days. She had been in Sweden a couple times before but never had the opportunity to really explore.

"So… What's the plan for today?" She asked and sat up. Bill looked at her and felt a worry grow in him.

"Ehh… Can't we just chill?"

"Babe, we have chilled for two days. Sorry but I can't stand being inside anymore!"

Bill sat up on his elbows and licked his lips. The plan was never that she would be locked in at his place, they even had been so optimistic they had just hired security for the his movie premiere but now that they were in Stockholm he no longer trusted the people of Stockholm. Aurora was too good and no one would let her just be, everyone wanted a piece of her.

"I think like a walk and maybe sit down somewhere for some wine…"

"Are you drinking in public?" Bill asked confused and looked at Aurora searching for stuff in her luggage.

"I thought so? You said Sweden is so safe?"

She searched in his wardrobes for hangers comfortably, his home was hers as soon as she put her foot there. Bill thought about what he had said to her but now regretted it. Sweden wasn't that safe. He often made it sound like it was better than it was, only because he thought it was better than the US.

"Sometimes… I guess. But there are some sick sons of bitches here too."

Aurora didn't answer, she stood and looked at a baby blue mini dress. He knew she had already decided that she would go out and he knew it also was the right thing to do but he still looked at her and knew he would probably need to protect her but also fight for her attention.

He continued to look at her getting herself ready for the day. Perfect makeup, curlers in her hair and the baby blue dress over glowing skin. He got himself ready when she was almost done. He pulled on a pair of light blue jeans, a black tennis shirt and a cap then he was ready. He looked at Aurora picking shoes, she had a suitcase just for shoes and tried the sneakers on with the dress as if there was a science to it. He couldn't really get used to how much time she put into her appearance but didn't say anything because the one time he did she had started to cry.

"I'm ready!" She said with a bright smile, holding her pink handbag and her white little sweater. Bill smiled a bit amused, she really looked like a doll. How did he get her?

"You look pretty," he said and opened the door for her.

"Thanks daddy," she said teasingly and walked out. Bill rubbed his eye with a smirk. It was really surreal to have her there, in his gray everyday life.

They took a walk along Djurgården and she forced him to take silly tourist pictures of them, even if so many people stopped them to take their own pictures of them. He wasn't always happy with the idea of taking pictures but Aurora's joy was infectious and they even let some people take pictures of them kissing. He would never have done something like that before but with Aurora it was so simple. He didn't think about whether he had a name to protect, to seem professional or how old he was. He just played around with her, even if they had an audience. He let her jump on his back, he let her lick ice cream from his face, he didn't even think about that somebody might have taken pictures. He was really happy Aurora had forced him out and he was so proud to show Stockholm his girl. His sunshine girl.

They walked hand in hand over Stockholm's bridges, through the parks and by the old buildings. He told her about it, he had read quite a lot about Stockholm's history and she listened to him interested and hugged his hand in hers. Some teenagers shouted at them and Bill quickly felt the protectiveness go up, he was after all the only security she had for the day but Aurora just waved at them and then stopped by a restaurant by the water.

"I'm hungry," she said and looked up at him. She just wanted a greasy burger and it seemed like you could get gourmet burgers in every corner of Stockholm.

"Sure." He looked at the menu. "The burger?" He said with a smirk.

"The burger," she answered with a bright smile.

"Bill!" Someone shouted at him and he looked up. It was Kalle and his other friend John. Aurora looked between Bill and the guys and got a bit nervous to meet some of his Swedish friends, she had only met some of his American friends. Bill gave them each a hug with a laugh as they said something in Swedish she couldn't understand, then they all turned to her and she noticed how his friends' eyes got bigger.

"This is my girlfriend, Aurora," Bill said with a smile and put a proud arm around her waist. They shook her hand friendly but she could see how John wiggled with his eyebrows towards Bill. She was used to it, even if she was a hardworking business woman she would always be treated like she was an accessory to her man by many people.

"So what plans do you have?" Asked Kalle in English and smiled towards them. Aurora had a good feeling about him.

"Aurora wants a burger so we’re going to try to find a table here somewhere."

"If Bill can find a table easily, it must be even easier for you," said John to her with a smile but she still got a bad vibe from him.

"We are on our way to have a beer, the weather is great!" Said Kalle. Bill had said Swedes like to talk about the weather so she smiled at him.

"It is, Sweden shows its best side for me," she said with a giggle and John looked her up and down. Bill gave him a fast look but waved it away, he had never ever gotten a bad vibe from John before.

"Are the Swedes kind to you?" Kalle cordially asked.

"Yeah totally! But Bill is so nervous! I don't know what you think will happen!" She turned to him with a teasing smile.

"I believe someone will push you in the water or something. Or just throw you up on their shoulder and run!" He said dramatically and she laughed which encouraged him to do the same.

"Yeah I guess that actually could happen…" said John and looked her up and down again with a smirk.

"I think we should go get that beer but it's really nice to meet you," said Kalle and gave Bill a hug again. Bill gave them both a one armed hug so he didn't need to release Aurora's hand. John moved towards Aurora and bent down and gave her a hug too and Bill furrowed his brows. He had never gotten a bad feeling about John before but now with Aurora it felt completely different. When the two men had walked away Bill looked down at Aurora with worry.

"He doesn't usually act like that…"

She smiled a little and shrugged her shoulders, worse things had happened to her than an awkward hug.

"It's okay. Everyone can behave weirdly sometimes."

Bill nodded a little to himself but pulled Aurora closer, suddenly it felt like every man was looking at her with predatory stares.

They found a table outside and both ate a burger. He looked at her drinking a glass of champagne as dessert. It was the first time she drank in public with him and even if he got protective he also felt warm that she trusted him so much that she could relax.

"I'm nervous about tomorrow," she said with an anxious smile. Bill sat where he had the afternoon sun in his face and it made his skin and hair glow. "A Scandinavian beauty", thought Aurora and got warm by seeing him so fresh and handsome in the late spring light.

"Why? It will be really small and relaxed. It's nothing like the premieres in the US, it's more like a home party."

"Yeah but… Everyone you love will be there and I don't know, what if they hate me?"

"Has anyone ever hated you?"

"Your ex isn't that fond of me…" she said with an amused smirk. Bill shook his head, it had become more obvious every time they met that his ex had something against Aurora.

"I don't know what her problem is."

"She's still in love with you," said Aurora neutrally. She had said it a couple times before but Bill just smirked at her every time, he was sure his ex wasn't in love with him but it did seem like Aurora was a bit jealous.

"She will be there tomorrow. I always invite her to things, I guess to be polite."

Aurora nodded a little.

"I guess that's logical. Hopefully she doesn't strangle me in the darkness of the movie theater." Bill laughed and dragged his hands over her naked knees under the table.

×××

There was chaos in Bill's apartment the next day. He had somehow believed Aurora would be a bit more chill at this little premiere than she usually would but by noon a hair stylist and makeup artist pushed their way into Bill's place. He watched her transform from perfect to even more perfect while he himself laid on the couch with his laptop on his stomach. He had thought that he would get some work done but instead he just watched Aurora's transformation. It was obvious this was the highlight of the stylists' career but Aurora was also an extremely picky and demanding customer. She was never unfriendly but made them nervous because it seemed like she had more knowledge than them.

Bill looked at his suit hanging in a garment cover on the bedroom door. It was just a simple black suit from Tom Ford but sat impeccably tailored. He had gotten a suit from a Swedish designer he had chosen to wear at first and sent pictures to Aurora. She didn't say anything about it and he knew her so well now he knew it was a bad sign. Even if he didn't want to be affected he asked for her opinion and she said it looked cheap and that it was too small over his shoulders. He had always doubted his ex-girlfriends opinions but he could see at once Aurora was right but he still felt obligated to use the Swedish suit. As soon as he said that to Aurora she just shook her head and said that it didn't work and called Tom Ford's head office and said to Bill to blame it on her. So he did. He said to the Swedish designer that Aurora had already arranged a suit for him to wear and they bought it without any drama. He was happy that she said what she really thought but was still surprised how much he cared.

"Your turn!" Said Aurora with her hair and makeup done and pulled her silk robe tighter around her body. Bill gave her a confused look.

"No, I’ll do my hair by myself, that's actually for the best." He smiled doubtfully and laughed a little.

"Not the hair, I mean your face." She looked at herself in a makeup mirror and took away some lipstick on her teeth with her tongue.

Bill has worn makeup at several premieres as to not look greasy or too pale in the bright flashes of the photographers' cameras but never in Sweden. It wasn't such a big deal there and there weren’t as many photographers.

"I'm okay," he said and looked down at his computer. Aurora just stood and looked at him and played with her nails. He looked at her confused but didn't say anything. For a while it was quiet between them because Aurora obviously wanted to say something but Bill didn't ask what.

"It's just…" she said carefully and Bill sighed with a smirk.

"Yeah?" He asked with a pointed smile. He knew she would say what she wanted if he just stared her down a while.

"It's probably the weather but… Your t-zone is quite shiny right now and in bright lighting it will…"

He sighed but smirked. He put down the laptop on the couch and stood up.

"Fine, fine." He sat down in the makeup chair that was way too high because they had just put on makeup on Aurora who was so much shorter.

When Bill was ready to go he sat down on the backrest of the couch and waited on Aurora who still was in the bathroom. He wasn't really nervous but wondered how it would be to go to such a thing in Sweden with Aurora. He had a feeling it would be quite different than what he usually experienced in the past. Aurora came out in the same pink heels he had seen her in a couple days before and a black dress. Her hair was gathered in a low ponytail that laid sleek over her shoulder. She was more modest than he had ever seen her but when she turned around he realized that wasn't really true. The dress was in a halter neck model and was tied around her neck with a big pink bow while her back was completely bare just like much of her sides, he could even see her little B tattoo.

Aurora just smiled a little. She didn't need to hear she looked good, she could already see on his face what he thought.

"I will never understand why the director wanted me to bring you, no one will even pay attention to the movie with you in the room," said Bill as he looked her up and down.

"Maybe it is because he realized it's a really bad movie," she joked and took her little glittery bag.

Bill made an amused sound and shook his head.

"I hear you have high expectations of me," he joked and laid his arm around her after they had walked out from the apartment and he had locked the door.

"You're the best, baby but sometimes you pick weird projects," she said honestly and let him guide her down the stairs. She struggled a bit as she walked down the stairs with chunky heels.

He didn't say anything, just smiled lovesick and looked at her concentrating on not falling down the stairs.

×××

It was not at all as it usually would be. They had their own security, two beefy guys that would follow them around, mostly Aurora, but the production company had seemed to have procured security too. The modest entrance of the movie theater was adorned with fairy lights and a broad red carpet that was empty while the other guests walked on another carpet to the side. He could see that there were quite well known Swedish celebrities but the broad carpet seemed to be saved for someone else.

"Vad fan…" whispered Bill for himself and pinched his lower lip.

"What?" Said Aurora, unknowing to what was happening. She couldn't see that the people that were steered away from the broad carpet were famous people and were made to use the slimmer carpet.

"Nothing babe," he said and kissed her hand before the car stopped by the broad carpet and the security jumped out. He looked at Aurora, she didn't look nervous, public performances were the most natural thing for her and her nerves would probably hit her when it was time for the after party.

There were more people around the carpet then there usually were, and many more photographers too as he realized when he jumped out. People shouted and applauded, especially when Aurora came out in her pink heels. It didn't really feel like his Sweden but it wasn't really, now it was Aurora's. There were many feelings being around her in public. Pride, protectiveness but also an awkward feeling of standing behind her. Not really because she got so much attention because he received it too and he didn't really care, the problem was that he didn't have her attention. He knew he was childish but when he saw others doing anything to touch her, be close to her his heart palpitated with jealousy. It was a bit better inside when they just posed for the photographers. She did it comfortably and with purpose she turned a bit away from the photographers and looked over her shoulder so she could show the back of the dress. She could feel Bill becoming stiff next to her and she looked up at him with a bright smile that made him smile too. She giggled and it made him smile bigger. The photographers probably got some great shots of them, drowning in each other's eyes.

When they stepped away from the carpet he noticed many of the photographers turned to Aurora anyway but when he gave them a questioning look they let her be.

A young man with a tray came up to them but looked nervous and out of focus.

"Champagne?"

He held the tray out in front of them with the glasses.

"Do you have anything alcoholic free?" Bill asked in Swedish. He would also drink alcohol free, both to keep Aurora company but also because he was nervous something would happen.

They spoke with some journalists, someone that filmed for the TV news. Mostly they did the interviews together, they were like vultures on Aurora otherwise and she thought it was boring that the security would come in like annoying big brothers.

"There is my dad," said Bill suddenly to her and nodded to a tall older man. She knew well who Stellan was and she became almost a bit starstruck seeing him. He seemed to be such a lovely person. He walked towards them with a bright smile along with his wife.

"There is a little more commotion here than there usually is," he said and gave his son a hug.

"And here is the beauty that has mesmerized my son," he said to Aurora with a big smile. She giggled a little.

"I guess it is," she said and gave Bill a fast look. She shook Stellan's hand and his wife's and the both of them were so friendly. She hadn't really expected anything else either. Stellan seemed to be such a warm man and his wife was 25 years younger than him, it wasn't like he would care that his son was with a woman 16 years younger than him. Bill's father and wife moved on to talk with some other guests and she could see two of Bill's big brothers waiting to talk to them. Aurora took a sip of her alcoholic free sparkling wine just to wet her throat and then let two more tall men with their respective partners swallow her up. All of them were so tall, even the girlfriends and she felt quite lost in all the Swedish and tall people but it was just for a moment until they turned to her and spoke English. All of them were really nice and she relaxed little by little. Even at the after party she was calm, mostly because her pride over Bill took over. The movie had been really great and it was obvious he was the star. He was funny and quick. And hot and she leaned into him just to tell him how sexy and awesome he was. Bill felt proud like a peacock and felt himself grow an inch of the praise from her and so many others and to have the most beautiful, charismatic woman in the room by his side. Everyone was quite mesmerized by them and he had never before felt a woman move with him so well. Their chemistry was obvious and people looked at them just as interested as they had watched the movie but of course there were skeptics in the room. One of them was Bill's ex who looked at them annoyed while they slow-danced together on the dance floor. Aurora had taken off her shoes and Bill had lifted her up to not break his back by leaning down so much. They looked precious, even she could see that, but what was annoying her the most was that several of Eija's friends took pictures of the two, with the couple's consent. Girls that had never accepted her but now acted as if Bill and Aurora were the leads in a romcom.

Bill let her go after a while and gave her the shoes and a peck on the lips before she walked towards the bathroom with one of her security guys.

"Hey Aurora," said his ex when she walked by her with a friendly smile. Aurora giggled with surprise and turned to her.

"Oh hey, I really must pee, do you want to come with me?" She asked his ex who looked at her confused. It felt like a really teenage thing to invite someone when you went to the toilet.

"Okay…" she said doubtfully and followed the petite girl into the bathroom. She wondered quietly if she was drunk or something.

"So you're here with Bill?" She asked outside of the stall while she heard Aurora pee.

"Yes it's amazing to see Sweden! I love it."

His ex looked at herself in the mirror. She had been drinking and felt quite confrontational.

"Yeah… But don't you feel like he's a bit old for you? I mean, you're so young and vibrant."

Aurora giggled again. His ex rolled her eyes, she hated that giggle.

"That giggle you do, have you always done that?"

Aurora came out from the booth with her shoes on and washed her hands.

"Yeah, why?" She looked at his ex through the mirror. The ex didn't really like viewing the reflection of the two of them next to each other and lowered her gaze.

"It sounds a bit fake…"

Aurora looked down. Did she want to hurt her? She took a deep breath.

"Actually it was my father that said to me at a young age he loved it so I started to do it more and then I guess it stuck?" She continued to talk with a low gaze. His ex did the same but still felt a need to just push her around a bit. The next day she would regret it because it was obvious the combination of hurt feelings, alcohol and a wobbling self esteem made her do it.

"Yeah Bill said you're close with your father… You lived with them for a long time?"

"Yeah I lived with them until I bought the house. I love my parents." Aurora smiled a little but still didn't dare to look at his ex. His ex laughed a little.

"Oh wow. I thought about joking about… Oh wow…"

Aurora looked up at her now.

"Hm?"

"Yeah, that you're so young that you just left your parents' home. Do you have your room intact at their place too?"

Aurora looked at her in silence. She did have her old room intact at her parents house but wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

"You know, Bill and I were together for 12 years. A healthy grown up relationship. What he's doing with you isn't that." She looked at Aurora up and down.

"You're a child." She said before leaving the bathroom with her head high. Aurora still couldn't get a word out. She knew she would cry again, like the child she was, she would break down in tears again, needing comfort. It was better to stay inside the bathroom so no one else would think the same thing as Bill's ex.

Bill's phone vibrated in the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He stood with some of his co-stars and laughed at an inside joke. He took up the phone, guessing it might be his ex's parents who were babysitting but saw "Little Lou" on his screen.

"Yeah, babe? Where are you?" He answered fast, covering his other ear to hear her. He worried something had happened. Even if nothing had ever really happened to her while they were together but he could see how men looked at her.

"Ehh… One of the security guys is just driving me around… I didn't feel so good…"

Bill could hear that she was upset. Aurora had stopped crying but just wanted out of the party but she didn't have a key to Bill’s so instead the security just drove her around Stockholm so she could calm down.

Bill walked away from his company to a calmer corner of the club.

"Why didn't you call me sooner? We could have just gone home."

"I didn't want to ruin things for you but then I realized you maybe would worry if you didn't find me and… Yeah it ended up like this…" she said and pulled up her feet in the car seat. She had taken off her shoes and pulled out some pins out of her hair that bugged her.

Bill sighed a little, not because he was irritated with her or that his night probably was over but because she believed she shouldn't say anything to him. She was the one he wanted to be with the most, if she wanted to go, then he wanted that too.

"Can you tell the security to pick me up? I want to be with you babe."

Aurora smiled a little at his words.

"You can just give me the keys. I can manage being alone for a while."

"No, I want to be with you. Just pick me up. My party is with you," he said sweetly and smirked to himself. He was such a sap. Aurora giggled, but stopped abruptly because she could hear words from earlier that night being whispered in her ear.

He heard Aurora say to the driver that they would pick him up and he smiled a little but there was something that felt off, her way of abruptly stopping her giggling and her upset tone. Something had happened.

×××

He didn't ask her much about the after party because she seemed to just want to snuggle and he thought they could talk about it the next day. Aurora woke up before Bill and looked at him, he was pink in the cheek from the heat in the room and his hair was messy. She was still fascinated that a grown man could be so cute and dragged a finger tip over his plump lips. He looked up at her with big tired eyes and Aurora snuggled in closer to him. That broad manly chest that made her feel secure and safe everytime he was near. She didn't want to think about the night before, what his ex had said and put it away in a corner to think about on a grayer day. Today it was sunny, the cherry blossoms were in full bloom and Bill was hard. A perfect spring morning. She kissed him with a lot of tongue and he smirked into the kiss. They made out messily in the spring sun and Aurora pushed down his boxers so his cock slapped against his stomach but they were abruptly interrupted by Aurora's phone. She ignored it ones, like she had done when it rang in the middle of the night but when it called again she felt forced to answer.

"I'm sorry…" She said to Bill. "Hey Andrew."

"God why don't you answer? I've been trying to call you all night!"

"Hello, time difference? I've been sleeping."

Andrew sighed loudly.

"Time to work then because now the gossip is spreading again!" He said upset. Bill looked at Aurora with furrowed brows, he could hear Andrew through the phone.

"Okay?"

"Look at the things I'm sending to you."

Aurora put the speaker on and looked at the pictures she received from Andrew. It was mostly from Instagram but also some gossip sites.

Aurora Lou pregnant!

Swedish source say Aurora Lou and Bill Skarsgård are expecting their first child!

Aurora laughed a little. People made up so much shit.

"So? Why do they believe that?" She asked and let Bill look over her shoulder at the screenshots Andrew had sent to her.

"Something about you two not drinking alcohol, that you have a belly but also that Bill has told people that!"

Bill furrowed his brows.

"I haven't said she's pregnant," he said to Andrew, who became quiet when he realized Bill could hear him. "And Aurora definitely does not look pregnant."

"They’re not my words, Bill, it's gossip."

"Yeah, yeah. Who cares really? We have been together for 10 months, that's the time you can be together in Hollywood before they either think you should have a baby or get married."

Aurora smiled a bit amused towards Bill and gave him a kiss on the cheek, she was glad he didn't make such a big thing out of it either.

"I just think you can post something on IG that kills these rumors."

"Like what? An ultrasound?" She joked and Bill laughed a little.

"Don't give me that attitude. You know I just want your best Princess."

Aurora rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, okay Andrew. I will see what I can cook up."

When they had hung up she looked down at Bill who had laid down again and kicked the cover off so he laid glorious naked. She dragged a hand up his hairy thigh and Bill answered by pushing his crotch out with a smirk.

"But you know it will happen," he said and laid her hand around his half hard cock. She looked at him with a confused smile and dragged her hand up and down his member.

"I will get you pregnant one day. Maybe sooner than you know." He smirked coyly but Aurora just furrowed her brows and let go of him.

"No."

Bill didn't really see the signals and just dragged her close and pushed her down in bed.

"I will put a baby in you… Maybe even now…" he kissed her neck but got shoved away harshly.

"Against my will in that case," said Aurora, upset and moved away from him. "I don't want any kids." Bill smiled a bit condescending.

"Sure you will. You will change your mind."

"No. I don't want to have kids. I've known that since I was a teenager."

Bill licked his lips and covered himself.

"But you love kids? You're great with kids?"

"Yeah but that doesn't mean I want them. And like you have three already. I thought you were finished with that?"

Bill could feel the hostility steam from her and tried to lay a calming hand on her knee but she just pushed it away. She heard her phone vibrate again but just waited for an answer from Bill.

"I don't know… I just thought that you… I have just thought a lot about you and I having our own little baby." He said with a little smile and she could see on his face how much the thought of a baby made him light up. She just felt nauseous when she thought about having a baby. She had her dogs and her plants. That was enough for her.

"I don't want a baby. I don't like that thought at all." She looked almost disgusted and for some reason felt Bill hurt. He looked her up and down. He had fantasized about getting her pregnant more than he cared to admit. Having a chubby baby that was just theirs. He had even thought about getting her pregnant while they had sex, fantasized about how his seed would plant in her and make her belly round. Aurora sat with her legs crossed tightly together like he would never ever get to come close to her again. She really didn't want a child and was so tired of hearing that she would change her mind. She didn't want a kid. Never ever. One of the reasons for her being so open to dating a guy that already had kids was because she thought he was finished. That he had already ended that chapter of his life. Instead she could see on his face that he was disappointed and upset but she would never become a mom to please a guy. She looked at her phone to distract herself and saw a new picture from Andrew but this was something else. It was a black and white picture of two people kissing in bed. Bill and Michelle. Her assistant Michelle.

×

[neverforpickles]

what's your favourite omega!harry fic? or favourites, if you're feeling generous enough to share

Hii, I am not much of a fan of Omega Harry but here’s a list of the ones I like (including but not limited to):

We Are Inevitable

/ mmargarita

“What’s the second flaw?”

“The second inevitable flaw in your plan is:” Louis stood straight and walked towards Harry, grabbing his chin. Harry’s breath hitched. “Us.” Louis smiled. “We’re inevitable, baby. We’re soulmates, and we both know it. You just need to come back to me.”

drunk on rose water

/ brainwaves

It’s the first time in a few years that Harry has a strong desire to risk everything for something he loves.

The last time, it was being a fashion model. This time, it’s Louis.

All I want

/ quitefinishedlove

“Remember this one film we watched two days ago? ‘Thirty, flirty and thriving’, that's you Lou. Not ancient, wheezing and dying, come off it.”

“Says my 18 year old boyfriend, fine then.”

“Your capabilities are still hitting the market, old man. Business and pleasure wise.” He punctuates each word slyly with sloppy nibbles on Louis’ skin, but not too playful to leave marks.

“With all that feisty little attitude you’re generating, you’re aware your bum is leaking though?”

They both laugh when they feel the trickling come passing Louis’ thighs from Harry’s twitching hole. He feels Louis pulling out five minutes later as they both settle in side by side.

(or the one where Harry gets pregnant at 18, without his alpha’s knowledge)

solids as a stone (when everything is gone)

/ anonymous

“Why’d you take me with you?”

Louis startles at the question, the car almost swerving off the road in the process. He holds his breath as he waits for the twins to wake up and start wailing, but they don’t. They keep sleeping on peacefully, covered in the family blanket.

Harry’s looking at him with an unreadable expression.

Louis takes a minute, mulling it over. He answers quietly. “I hate to say it, but as much as we hate each other, I can’t bear to leave you alone to deal with this whole thing all by yourself.” and I wouldn’t be able to bear it if you died, he adds in his mind.

or, it's the zombie apocalypse and Louis is stuck with Harry, with whom he shares a complicated relationship with.

High Noon Or Midnight, I Don’t Want To Know

/ @creamcoffeelou

The intruder stands there for too long before he reaches into his bag, pulling a length of rope into his hands.

The darkness is too overpowering for Harry to make out any of the alpha’s features, rather he can only see the sweeping movement of his hands, his legs as he takes a step closer. Harry knows what’s happening, can see exactly how this is going to play out, but he almost doesn’t want to fight the idea.

“Wait,” Harry starts. The words come faster than he intends, mouth moving before he can think through what he’s saying. “Let me get dressed and pack a bag. And then I will go with you.”

OR: Harry is an omega prince who doesn't want the crown and will do anything to escape. Louis is an alpha who does and will do anything to get it.

Is it a sign?

/ bluegreenish

“Also, I didn’t mean it literally,” Harry continues his rambling, gesticulating to support his point. “You don’t owe me a beer and I surely don’t expect you to buy me anything, it was just to start a conversation but you’re obviously not interested in that. Which, again, maybe next time an omega, or anyone really, approaches you, you could convey -”

To Harry’s surprise, he’s interrupted by the handsome stranger, who’s been weirdly fixated on his lips the whole time. What a creep!

“You speak so fast, I can’t read your lips like this.”

What? Harry’s frown deepens and he just stares at the man, waiting for him to explain. Because why the hell would he need to read Harry’s lips? They’re not in some detective movie.

The man rolls his eyes at Harry’s obvious lack of understanding.

“I’m deaf,” he huffs and points to his ear.

And oh. Yikes. That’s kind of embarrassing.

or, the one where Harry meets a certain handsome alpha at his sister's wedding and learns that speaking verbally doesn't have to be the only means of communication.

Let’s Embrace The Point Of No Return

/ sweaterpaws

Louis was a whole new scale of beautiful, he was richer than Harry could've ever imagined, and he was the most powerful, dominant alpha that Harry had ever come in contact with. The only problem now is that Louis is also Harry's boss.

Louis believed Harry was an alpha, and had no idea about how he had lied about his status just to get an interview with Louis. He was in too deep now and he couldn't look back.

Or

Harry is an omega intern at an all alpha company. Louis is his boss. There's some complications.

I Sail With You

/ @afangirlfantasy

Against his wishes, Omega Prince Harry Styles is arranged to mate with someone he doesn’t love, much less knows. Though he pleaded to his parents incessantly, they not only refuse to comply but force him to depart on a ship days later. Harry prays for fate to step in, to change what’s to come, however, the answer he is given is not exactly in the form he had hoped.

Enter Will Tommo – deadliest pirate captain of all seven seas.

I Think You’re Already Home

/ @jaerie

Seeing Louis Tomlinson today, it would be hard to guess that he was ever once a member of the world's most famous boyband. These days he doesn't even the leave his own house. The truth is he can't leave his own house. He can't even remember the last time just standing at an open door didn't send him into a debilitating panic attack. But, against his friend's advice, Louis is ready to add meaning to his life again. He's ready to start a family. So what if he doesn't have an omega? There are plenty of surrogacy services just waiting to help the rich and famous become parents. He just has to find the right one for the job.

We Got The World Shaking

/ FutureMrsHaroldStyles

Suddenly Louis is taking Harry’s hand in his own and turns to his sister. “I’m taking him to my room. Don’t worry I’m going to take care of him. Now go and enjoy your party, little sis!”

And with that Louis leads Harry to the elevator. The thoughts in Harry’s head are going wild but they all come down to Fuck am I really gonna spend my heat with Louis Tomlinson?

Or the one where Harry goes into heat at his best friend Lottie's birthday party and her big brother helps him out.

No Love Like Your Love

/ Rearviewdreamer

When it comes to saving the world from itself and convincing rich CEOs of environmentally harmful companies to go green, there's nobody better than Harry Styles. That is, until Louis Tomlinson, his ex and former Alpha, is involved.

Seeing Blind

/ zedi

Louis finally turns his head in Liam’s direction, knows his face is showing the longing he’s been aching with ever since it took root in his chest. “What the fuck do I do, Liam? He wouldn’t want me like that, but I want-” his voice cracks, and he turns his face back downwards. “What do you do when you’re not perfect for the person who’s perfect for you?”

OR the one where Harry’s an independent omega who likes to have his fun and Louis is the blind alpha that changes Harry’s priorities.

Wolf Boy (Like No One Else)

/ cristalrush

Harry turned his head and smelt the pillow. He was slowly waking up but didn’t want to. He wanted to stay asleep and keep smelling that scent. He was certain it was only made up by his brain because nothing could smell like that. So good and relaxing but at the same time exciting and new. He tucked the soft blanket higher up, so he could hide under the covers for a while longer. His aunt would come soon and wake him up.. Except... no, Marie was not coming to wake him up. He wasn’t at home. He was somewhere he didn’t even know, sleeping in someone else’s cabin and this wasn’t his bed.

Harry sat up fast, the blanket falling down on his lap. Harry looked around the room and saw a boy in front of him, sleeping in an armchair with a baseball bat next to him. And that was when Harry screamed.

Or the one where Harry leaves his old pack in hopes to find his soulmate. And that’s when he meets Louis, an alpha who doesn’t believe in soulmates.

Si Pudiera Volar

/ @softfonds

When Harry’s fiancé leaves him for his cousin, he looks the other way for the sake of his happiness. He’ll do anything to forget about him, including joining a monastery. It isn’t until his cousin’s former lover, a pirate, appears that he realizes everything is not as it appears, and an honest pirate might be the only person worthy of his heart.

Or, a fic loosely based on Corazón Salvaje.

Shadows Come With The Pain That You’re Running From (Love Was Something You’ve Never Heard Enough)

/ hlftanna

“Thanks, Ni, I guess I needed to hear that,” Harry sighed and wrapped his own arms around Niall and squeezed him tightly not caring if Liam would be mad. He missed Niall so much.

“Does it really come as a surprise to you that I’m right? Shaking my head, Haz. You should know me better,” the brunette teased.

Harry giggled again.

“You know Hazza, you really are so different to all the other alphas out there. You’re soft, caring, cuddly and sweet and those damn dimples. So freaking pretty, it’s almost annoying. I would hate you if you weren’t my best friend. You’d really be a brilliant omega. Nature really did a number here,” Niall mumbled. It was his turn to smash his nose into Harry’s neck and Harry was extremely thankful for that because he wasn’t sure he had his facial expression in check at all.

Or a Band AU in which Harry isn't allowed to be who he really is and the North American Tour might bring some unexpected truths into the web of lies and also a bit of heat that has very little to do with the summer in the US.

[underthecitysky]

IT was a real family affair when Stella McCartney showcased her autumn/winter collection at LIPA (Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts) yesterday. ECHO Features Editor Jane Haase had a front row seat ...

“GRANDAD,” shouted the little boy in delight as he ran over to the man in the grey suit with the flowery shirt who leant down and gave him a hug.

He might be one of the most famous men in the world but he was just grandad to the toddler who wanted a cuddle.

The McCartney clan were out in force for a special fashion show by Sir Paul’s designer daughter Stella, held just a few hours before the Beatles legend rocked a 36,000 strong crowd at Anfield.

Stella had chosen to unveil her autumn/winter collection at Lipa as a celebration of the city’s Capital of Culture year.

Her children – son Miller, three; 18-month-old daughter, Bailey, and four- month- old son, Beckett – were at the family event, joined by their excited cousin (lol, aunt), four-year-old Beatrice (Sir Paul’s daughter with ex-wife Heather Mills). When not sitting with her relatives the pretty blonde-haired youngster could be seen bouncing on her father’s lap.

Photographer Mike McCartney (Paul's brother), famed for his intimate portraits of The Beatles, was snapping away inside the auditorium.

On the front row were Sir Paul, with his son James on one side and Yoko Ono on the other. Next to her was George Harrison’s widow Olivia, who was in the city for a special tribute to her late husband at FACT on Friday night, as well as Beatles producer Sir George Martin.

They were being watched more than the models on stage by some members of the audience who had paid between £100 to £500 for a ticket for the event, with all proceeds going to LIPA. One keen female fan in the balcony even had her opera glasses out and trained on the A-listers.

Badges saying “Stella” with a shape of a heart and the words “L’Pool” below were given out at the entrance to guests who included Sir Peter Blake, who designed the iconic Sgt Pepper album cover, and number one WAG Coleen McLoughlin.The same message was spelled out in silver balloons suspended from the ceiling above the stage.

Liverpool singer Candie Payne, looking stunning in a thigh- skimming black mini dress, opened the afternoon show. The singer from West Derby obviously impressed Sir Paul who was spotted taking a picture of her on his mobile phone as she performed.

The fact this was no ordinary fashion showcase was evident when the models took to the catwalk. Instead of strutting their stuff these statuesque visions in dresses of varying hues of blue, grey, black and taupe played musical chairs while tottering about in what looked like 7ins platform wedges.

Amid laughter from the 380 seater auditorium, they entered into the spirit of fun as they battled it out to the thumping beat of That’s Not Your name by the Ting Tings.

As balloons descended onto the stage (with “Uncle Mike” retrieving a heart-shaped one for Beatrice) Stella appeared with a present for the winning model and thanked everyone for coming.

She joked: “I seem to have 50,000 members of my family still in this city.”

And proud dad Sir Paul, wearing his trademark suit and trainers and a Stella badge, shouted out: “Three cheers for Stella.”

Before heading off to her father’s Liverpool Sound concert with the rest of the family, Stella explained why it was important to showcase her new fashion range at LIPA, which was co-founded by Sir Paul in 1996 in the grounds of his old school, The Liverpool Institute.

She said: “It’s been a great day, especially with the concert tonight.

“I wanted to do something for LIPA because it’s my dad’s old school and I’m very proud of what he’s done here and the way he’s made the school survive.

“This show was a lot of fun and it’s great to hold it in the Capital Culture year and do my bit for the city.”

Describing her collection as “naturally sexy, naturally confidant and modern”, she added: “I don’t design for one particular woman, but I try to pick up what I think is happening around me and on the streets.

“I don’t get a chance to spend much time in Liverpool but I think Liverpool can compete with other cities.”

And what does the acclaimed fashion designer, who counts Madonna and Gwyneth Paltrow as pals as well as clients, think of Liverpool girls’ style?

“I think they are great but I would say that because I’ve got a bit of Liverpool in me,” she laughed.

The Scouse gliterrati were out in force yesterday. Former Emmerdale star Sheree Murphy, wife of footballer Harry Kewell, was there along with friends, Cricket owner and ECHO columnist Justine Mills and celebrity stylist Lorraine McCullough.

Coronation Street star Alison King, who plays Carla Connor, was among the guests as was Radio City presenter Pete Price.

Dance group Flava, who were semi finalists in the TV show Britain’s Got Talent, also performed at the event.

Stella had said she had wanted to do her bit for the city in Capital of Culture year. I think the McCartney clan certainly did that yesterday.

Text copied from ohnotheydidnt on livejournal here

[fromrosepetalcottage]

Wabi sabi life

Photo by Sakagura London.

I've been thinking about the Japanese practice of kintsugi as seen in ceramics, as well as the sashiko mending technique in clothing. Kintsugi encompasses the concept of wabi sabi. Wabi-sabi is the view or thought of finding beauty in every aspect of imperfection in nature. It is about the aesthetic of things in existence, that are “imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete."

Is this not something that we can apply to humans in all our imperfections, psychic wounds new or old, bodies easing into "vintage" years? I read something on a Japanese website that translated the concept in an accessible way that really made me think of how wabi sabi could apply to us, especially as older women. To quote:

Wabi sabi is a beautiful way to describe what is natural and pure and to acknowledge the beauty of any substance or being in its most natural and raw form. It eliminates the rather Westernized concept of artificial beauty and idolizing a state of perfection that is seemingly unachievable and unnatural. The western world has made the concept of beauty into something that is becoming more and more refined as well as more and more unachievable with each passing day and it distorts the idea of natural beauty and accepting the flaws of existence, however, on the contrary, the Japanese belief and concept of wabi-sabi embraces just that and allows the people to be more accepting and open to embracing the beauty of flaws and rawness. Source: https://www.kyoto-ryokan-sakura.com/archives/191

I can't be the only person who scrolls social media and is dismayed by the ubiquity of certain types of selfies. There is a depressing sameness of makeup, hair, expressions, poses. A famous actress once said that adolescence was the time of life when young people had to prove their individuality by looking exactly like everyone else. And that's what social media has become. Extended adolescence on a worldwide scale. Even influencers targeting a mature crowd seem to have fallen into the look alike/dress alike mold. Style blogs that are supported by retail outlets spotlight similar fashions, and while some might link to different size ranges, few share resources that help women understand their shapes or unique natural coloring, leading to a different type of clone wars.

As the Japanese point out, in the West our idea of beauty is something that is so airbrushed and Photoshopped into perfection that it's often unrealistic. A friend and I recently had lunch then stopped in a local IG hotspot to shop and get a couple of snapshots. A nice bystander took a few photos of us, but I was dismayed to see the unfiltered evidence of my current age. I look old, was all that I could sputter. As my friend pointed out, I'm pretty good with editing software and apps, so after a little tweaking, I uploaded the best shot later. But that reflex has nagged at me a little. I don't like looking older, but it's my reality. I am 64, although I could pass for late 40s on a good day.

In the Western Hemisphere, as well as the U.K., the idea that youth is best reigns. When I was in my 20s, I learned that once you hit 30 you were considered over the hill in Brazil. Maybe this idea came from ancient Greece. During the Classical period, idealized sculptures had perfect proportions, but also illustrated the Greek's belief that people peaked at about the age of 18 or so. Even a sculpture of Zeus, king of the gods, might have depicted him as an older man with flowing hair and beard, but Zeus still rocked a body that would make Arnold envious. Over millennia canonical artists have continued to use youthful models. However, the two years of art school that included life drawing classes with nude models ranging from fit and young to older and soft taught me to look differently at bodies.

Model mama, art school, 2002.

For whatever reason, I had an easier time drawing bodies that had a surplus of "fluff" on them. Students weren't supposed to have contact with our models, but our class threw a shower for one. She had taken a maternity leave and on her return, still obviously hadn't lost any of the baby weight, but it didn't matter. Her Rubenesque curves were a delight to try and capture on my drawing board. Unlike some of the young guys in my classes, for me there was nothing sexual about drawing an unclothed body. I saw light, shadow, lines, curves, textures. It takes a certain kind of bravery, and maybe some healthy vanity, to model nude for a studio full of strangers four days a week at universities and art schools around the county to earn enough to live on. This woman gave no fucks that she was considered large in that pre-body-positivity era. Her body had functioned beautifully as it was meant to. She brought a healthy baby into the world. The abundant curves of her abdomen and hips were certainly evidence of their recent use, and she was still breast feeding - again her body was functioning as nature meant. What society might consider imperfect served not only her child, but also students looking to refine their technique in depicting the human form.

We all have some type of imperfection whether visible or invisible. Childhood wounds to the psyche aren't always apparent, although the effect of physical wounds remain visible or physiological in limps or twinges. Our culture pushes near perfection via magazines, films, television programs, and online influencers who seem to want to sell us something that will bring us closer to that elusive goal.

I have another friend who is fond of saying that we already have all we need inside us. While meditating this morning, that thought drifted into my consciousness. I was focusing on wholeness and trust - self trust to be exact. I've made so many mistakes at this point that they could be used as examples on how NOT to live. But I'm ok, and I do have all that I need externally. I have a job and good friends. My home isn't the fanciest, but I have a comfortable place to lay my head at night, there is food in the pantry, and there's good reading and music at hand. Experience has been a tough teacher, but instead of being broken my body has mended the external damage, and the practice of meditating and journaling has helped to salve the emotional wounds.

As those thoughts came to me after I finished meditating, the concept of wabi sabi surfaced. Beautiful imperfection. The kintsugi technique is the repair of shattered pottery and then using gold leaf to highlight the lines where the vessel had come back together. The jagged lines aren't seen as flaws, but as something to be cherished and the gold makes a treasure of the piece. Sashiko mending involves using decorative stitches to patch or darn a spot on a garment that is fraying or has developed holes. The technique has come into fashion in the West with people becoming more conscious of sustainable clothing. Rather than disposing of a worn garment, repair it and add a personal touch that is a thing of beauty in and of itself. I tried sashiko on the elbow of a much loved topper that I was wearing at work every day. The technique salvaged the piece and kept it out of the recycle bin.

Sashiko source: https://perennialstl.org/event/boro-sashiko-mending/

After a pretty traumatic road accident the same elbow on my body had to be stitched back together, along with some other spots. The stitches didn't quite heal right, and 12 years later, the scars are still there on my arm. Maybe they're my personal kintsugi, although it's not possible to apply gold leaf. The scars are evidence that I am still here, still functioning - got motion back - and I'm still useful. I'm broken but unbowed.

I believe that anyone who has made it this far is going to have some internal or external damage; it's natural. Life is not perfection; life is messy and if we just accept that we can't control everything, it's a bit easier to accept the occasional mess and imperfections. While I certainly have things I'm still working on, things that are in my sphere of control, the rest is what it is. Like the kintsugi vessel, my scars are golden. If you've read this far, yours are as well...