#this skirt just looks better worn higher

[beacon-of-chaos]

Quetza cosplay, take 2: remembering I have wings!

And you get my face this time cos dysphoria is temporarily gone.

[g0dlyunsub]

it takes two.

spencer deals with a lot on the field, but nothing can prepare him for when he’s stuck inside a locker with you.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: 18+ due to sexual themes but no smut, slight claustrophobia triggers

word count :: 2.2k

author’s note :: inspired by a scene from s9e23, i'm imagining spencer in a fitted collared shirt and tie, reader wears a skirt

accompanying song :: stuck between by dutch criminal record

“nothing’s showing up on vicap. i’ve cross-checked records against everything you’ve mentioned, sir, but there’s literally nothing. zilch,” you hear garcia let out an exasperated groan as she ferociously taps at her keyboard. 

you watch as hotch kneads the skin between his brows with growing impatience while morgan starts to pace around the room. you’re not doing any better yourself, your stressed-out fingers threatening to tug at the strands of hair neatly holding your ponytail together. 

it’s too frustrating. the leads are clearly there, but your team is lacking the final puzzle piece to complete the profile, to confirm that it’s someone in the department that’s deliberately injecting themselves into the investigation.

“your answer is probably written down on paper. ugh, i hate when bad guys try to act all smart,” garcia fumes, and sulks as she gives an apologetic wave from her side of the screen. hotch nods, relays a thank you, and cuts the call before rounding the whole team together.

“think about it, those two are the perfect scapegoats. all of these agents have everything to lose, so why not just blame them? they’ve been in and out of cells already, and it makes perfect sense to craft a narrative that’ll point fingers at them,” morgan starts, making small gestures as he speaks with his signature cadence, topped with a honeyed rasp.

“and they’ve got all the authority to influence the public’s opinion,” jj nods in agreement.

“we need to try to get those two to talk again, but we also have to take extra precautions. jj and prentiss, go interview them one more time to see if they’ll spill any names. morgan, i need you to work with garcia to look for other possible leads. reid and l/n, go to the records room to review the files of the agents working with us. dave and i will try to hold down the fort,” hotch instructs, nodding at each of you as he rolls out the orders. 

“and try not to draw suspicion. if all else fails, say that you need to run to the bathroom,” rossi adds with a wink. it always amazes you how calm the italian agent is during such high-pressure situations, a trait you’ve grown to immensely appreciate.

“shall we?” you say as you nudge spencer, and he hums back in response. you bid a wish of good luck to emily and jj and traverse the hallway to the records room with the doctor, your heels clacking beside the cushioned steps of his slightly worn converses. 

after looking left and right to make sure no one’s around, spencer opens the door. you silence the sounds of your heels as you follow inside, and let the bolt of the lock plunge into the frame by slowly closing the door. 

“alright, you take the left, i’ll take the right,” you whisper, and spencer gives you a thumbs up. 

the two of you work silently and as fast as possible, sifting through the piles of records that lie on the tables and beside the cabinets. you feel your heart jump into a cartwheel every time a sheet of paper slips out of the manila folders, the sounds of rustling and creasing setting you on edge. 

“i found mcgregor and drew, but i don’t think it’s either of them,” spencer declares with a voice that isn’t supposed to sound loud at all, but it feels hundreds of decibels higher than the bare whisper you spoke with earlier. 

“okay, i found weaver and lee, but they don’t fit the profile either. let’s continue looking for the other two,” you call back. 

spencer walks over to you and kneels beside your left to help you with your search. once you spread the folders on the floor, you spot one of the two remaining files, and spencer soon finds the other. you’re about to turn through the sheets in the folder when the doorknob starts to shake, startling the both of you.

“shit. spence,” you blurt as spencer takes his file in one hand and grabs yours with the other, and shoves them into an open drawer. after he slides the compartment back with his careful and nimble fingers, you grab his arm and squeeze into a spare locker. you barely manage to seal the opening shut in time.

you could say that it was quick thinking that saved your and spencer’s cover, since the door jiggles and thrusts open a mere second later.

you never would’ve imagined that the day would come when you would draw air directly from spencer’s breaths, let alone enclose yourself in the same room as him. 

and yet here you are, perched on top of spencer’s knee, the scratchy fabric of his trousers resting under the hollow space of your pencil skirt and between your legs. his other leg presses against your side of the wall with an uncomfortable bend, while his chin sits an atom’s width from your forehead.

it’s a nonnegotiable consequence that comes with his tall figure, the way his clothed knee has to rub against your inner thighs under the draped fabric.

one of your hands lies awkwardly on his chest while the other is on his thigh, right above the knee that’s using you for leverage. your attention immediately shifts to your left when you see the rays of the intruder’s flashlight scope through the room. 

you stop mid-exhale when the light pours through the gaps of the locker, casting shadows on spencer’s face and your body. he looks stressed, anxiously wetting his lips with closed eyes, face turned away from you.

and he looks overwhelmed. rapid bursts of inhales and exhales fire from his body, likely due to the collar of his shirt being bound tightly around his neck with the tie. with shaking fingers, you slowly reach for his tie, waiting for approval to loosen it. 

you feel his forehead bury into the cave of your shoulder, and he whispers his desperate ask into your ear: “please.”

despite the lack of light around you, you’re able to locate the small end of his satin tie, and you tug lightly. the knot unfurls as you pull, and spencer lets out a small sigh of relief before breathing a low thank you in your ear.

as this happens, you hear the intruder surf through the piles of papers, unlocking drawers and lifting boxes left and right. hurry, hurry, hurry, you pray desperately in your head. beads of sweat start to form at your temple and threaten to fall down to your exposed neck, which happens to be situated directly in spencer’s line of sight.

“come on,” you hear the guest in the room complain, angrily flipping through papers and slamming the cabinets. you think it’s finally time for him to leave when you hear the high-pitched ring of his phone. 

but your eyes widen when instead of heading to the door, he makes strides towards the locker right across from yours, and leans his back against it before holding the phone up to his ear. holy shit.

“jensen speaking,” he says with a gruff voice, and plays with the button of his flashlight so it turns on and off spontaneously. as the light flickers, it dimly shines the space inside your locker. 

spencer turns his head to meet your eyes, a panicked expression covering his face. you’re about to mouth a small sorry for the helpless situation you’ve dragged him into, but just as you’re about to do so, spencer’s trousers slide against your legs, creating friction so unbearable that you let out a squeak. 

you freeze, looking up to see spencer’s eyes flash warningly. he instantly clasps your mouth with his hands to cover any further sound from escaping your lips, but with no form of support to maintain his position, he starts to slip, and his shirt lightly skids against the locker’s slippery walls. this is somehow even worse for you, because spencer’s knee starts to dig further up your legs and into your cotton underwear, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut.

luckily for the both of you, jensen seems to be distracted by whatever words are being spewed from the other end of his phone call to pay any mind to your suppressed yelps. 

“i think their agents might be on to us,” he scowls, and you watch from the corner of your eye as he tosses the last of his files into a box and opens the adjacent locker to ram it inside.  

“yeah, i’ll try to stall them for as long as i can. they don’t know what they’re getting themselves into.” 

jensen curses and promptly ends the call, returning his phone into the pocket of his shirt. he finally walks to the door, sighing as he twists the knob and steps out. the two of you lie in wait for an additional three minutes before trying anything. 

“i think we’re good,” spencer huffs, finally opening the locker door with a thud as the sounds of steel clashing against steel echo throughout the air. 

“yeah,” you nod, taking a breath to collect yourself as you step out. you watch as spencer runs a hand through his hair and moves his fingers down to adjust his tie. 

he returns the stare, his adam’s apple bobbing when he eyes your wrinkled shirt and scrunched up pencil skirt – which looks more like a mini-skirt with how it sits right below your hips.

“i um, i need some air. how about you?” spencer asks at last, clearing his throat. you bite your lip when he starts to brush the dust off his thighs and knees, the moments of earlier flooding into the back of your mind like the warmth pooling between your thighs.

“yeah, i could use some fresh air too,” you respond breathily, averting your eyes and focusing instead on smoothing out your shirt and retying your loosened ponytail. when you’re done, you turn around and stagger to the door, not looking twice to see if spencer’s following you. an intense flush spreads across your cheeks, and your only viable path of escape is to the bathroom.

“you, um, missed a spot,” you hear from behind, and you follow spencer’s gaze to see that he’s referring to the back of your skirt.

“oh,” you say as embarrassment swamps you, and you hurriedly pat at the fabric. “does that look better?”

“it’s still folded there. if you want, i can- may i?” 

the question tumbles from his pretty lips and messes with your head. his hand hovers right around your waist, the same way yours lingered on his tie as you waited for his consent. and his softening eyes. his slightly smoldering gaze looks so innocent and alluring at the same time, your heart starts to feel heavy with the weight of desire. 

note to self: never wear a pencil skirt again.

“please,” you utter like a silent prayer, and mentally prepare yourself to endure the test of his fingers against your skin.

as soon as he receives your word, his hand lightly brushes against your thigh and trails down your skin. he takes the hem of your skirt and pulls down, giving several tugs before releasing the stretched garment. 

he clears his throat when you don’t move even after he’s retracted his hand.

“all good now.” 

spencer’s words drown out your thoughts and snap you back to reality. he’s already standing by the door, holding it open for you with a patient smile.

“thanks,” you say as you walk out and rub your hands together, nervous for what you’re about to say next. “spencer, um, i’m so sorry about that whole ordeal, it was really unprofessional of me to drag you in there, i wasn’t thinking when i-”

“you did the right thing,” spencer interrupts your ramble with the shake of his head, and his flawless smile pulls at your heartstrings.

“i would’ve pushed you in there if you hadn't. that door’s the only way in and out if you don’t count the windows,” he continues, slipping his hands into his pockets as he walks you to the elevator.

“oh,” you shyly murmur back, your cheeks flushing with a shade of bright pink as his words pour over you like warm water. he would’ve pushed you in there if you hadn’t?

“yeah, but how about we try a bigger locker next time?” spencer almost reads your mind as he half-mindedly jokes, causing you to drop your jaw in shock. he doesn’t acknowledge your reaction, however, because he starts to dial rossi’s number on his cell.

“by the way, the uh, new look suits you. the grey skirt and all,” spencer says with a lopsided smile before he raises a hand to excuse himself and call rossi. you’re saved the embarrassment of responding when rossi accepts the call, but your palms are already profusely sweating at his compliment.

note to self: maybe wear the pencil skirt again.

[pollymorgan]

Coach Negan Part 3

Warnings: Negan is still Negan, hot fingering under the table.

When I straightened my skirt and put on my bra again, Negan, already half dressed, holds out my blouse to me. I slip into the sleeves and watch as he slowly buttons it up for me. He seems quite focused and I take the opportunity to study him thoroughly. His hair falls a little in his face, his eyelashes are long and thick, and I want to kiss his full lips again immediately. I study every little scar, wrinkle, pore, and mole extensively.

None of us says anything. The situation is strangely intimate and makes my heart beat wildly. After he finishes the last button, he looks directly at me. His grin is, as always, infectious.

"I'll pick you up tonight at 7 p.m. Wear something nice, I want to take you out to dinner!" he says demandingly, leaving no room for argument.

I nod slightly, but he could have told me anything at that moment and I would have probably agreed.

After a final gentle kiss, I leave the room. In the car, on the way home, I turn up the music and feel damn good. For once, no problems, no stress, no worries. Just the anticipation of a date with a hot guy, after some damn good sex with that same hot guy.

Arriving home, I take a long bath and rummage through my closet - once again - for suitable clothing. I decide on a short black dress that I've only worn once before. I haven't worn it since my 'almost-husband' commented that a mother doesn't wear 'such things'. So, the perfect outfit for tonight. As they say, 'Now more than ever'! Combined with loose waves, subtle makeup, and black high heels, I feel pretty comfortable in my skin.

I take my time getting ready. When was the last time I took so much time for myself? With household chores, marital discord, financial worries, and child care, that had fallen by the wayside. So, it's not surprising that I don't realize how time flies. Just as I'm applying my lipstick, I startle because the doorbell suddenly rings. Startled, I look at the clock. It's exactly 7 p.m. I automatically start to smile and quickly finish applying my lipstick. Then I quickly head down the stairs with a slight flutter in my stomach. I take a deep breath and then confidently open the front door.

Negan holds a bouquet of white lilies in his hand and, of course, looks stunning in his thin leather jacket, with the rest of his outfit all black. I slowly start to feel that he looks better with each of our encounters.

He leans his upper body back and lets his dark eyes roam over my body, biting his lower lip. "Wow! Holy shit, you look hot.." he observes in his usual charming way.

I look critically at my watch. "Right on time!" I remark amused.

"Of course, I've been counting down every damn minute until it's finally 7 p.m..".

I roll my eyes theatrically, but inwardly find it extremely sweet to hear such a comment from him. As he hands me the bouquet, I sarcastically ask if he always pays women with flowers for sex. His smile tells me that I might not be far off with my assumption.

"I guess they need water!" Determined, I go back into the house and leave the door open, assuming Negan will follow me. And I'm right, as I try to fish a vase out of the top shelf of the kitchen cupboard, I feel his gaze without turning around. He has such a presence that I sense him without seeing him.

As I clearly hear him approaching me, my pulse immediately quickens again. With one hand he grasps my hip and with the other effortlessly takes the vase out of the cupboard.

"Thank you!" I say quietly as he presses his body against mine.

"Not for that, believe me, there will be plenty of other things you can thank me for today!". I feel his warm breath on my neck as he speaks.

Desperately, I try to keep myself under control and fill the vase with water without responding to his comment.

I notice how he slowly releases me and immediately miss the feeling of his warm, strong body against mine.

His hands rest on my thigh and slowly move higher. I have to support myself on the counter to keep from swaying. Why does this damn guy have such power over my body and me? I don't have much time to think about it. His touches cloud my senses.

Negan grabs the hem of my short dress and slowly pulls it up higher until my butt is completely exposed. I immediately feel the cold air on my bare skin. After a tormentingly long moment where I hear or feel nothing from Negan, he starts tracing the contours of my black thong.

With a quiet but firm voice, he says, "Did you choose this pretty piece just for me? Sweetheart, I wouldn't even have to take it off of you. I could just slide that little piece of fabric to the side and slide my cock into your perfect pussy. Mmm, how would that be...?"

With each of his words, the tingling in my lower abdomen and the flush in my cheeks intensify. I struggle between 'do it now' and 'not so fast'. After gathering my thoughts for a moment, I turn decisively to him. His gaze immediately captivates me. With a satisfied smile on his face, he says, "I love how damn red your sweet cheeks get when I turn you on."

I swallow hard and then say, as nonchalantly as possible, "I thought you wanted to go out to eat?"

"Oh, screw it. Let's order pizza and then fuck all night..."

I pull my dress back down and try to avoid his gaze, trying to maintain at least some self-control.

"Counterproposal, we go out to eat, because anticipation is supposedly the greatest pleasure, and then we come back here and fuck all night..." Then I confidently pass by him, towards the exit.

"Are you coming?" I call out, already feeling a little proud of myself.

The car ride is strangely quiet. Negan stares intently at the road, and I could swear he's a little miffed that his plan didn't go as smoothly as he wanted.

We stop at a small, unassuming Italian restaurant on a street corner. Briefly, I wonder how many women he has taken here before? But I quickly push those thoughts aside. This is about having fun, and even if that's the case, so what? In this arrangement, there should be no room for jealousy and negative feelings. I've had enough of those lately.

Negan opens the passenger door and helps me out of the car. As we walk into the restaurant, he grips my hip possessively, and when the waiter greets us, his grip tightens even more.

"Do you have a quiet corner for us? We had a pretty stressful day..." he says to the waiter, who nods understandingly.

What does he mean by 'quiet corner'? Is he afraid of being seen with me? Did he not want to leave the house for that reason, even though it was his idea to go out for dinner? I look at him questioningly as we follow the waiter through the small, winding restaurant. But the only response from Negan is a brief wink and a kiss on my cheek. What's all this about?

We take a seat at a table in a small alcove on a bench.

"Would you like something to drink?" the waiter asks, after making sure the table is okay.

Without waiting for my response, Negan orders two glasses of Chianti wine.

As the waiter disappears with the order, I sigh irritably. "Maybe I don't even drink red wine?"

Amused, Negan shakes his head and places his warm hand on my bare thigh, causing me to flinch slightly. Damn, I hope he didn't notice how sensitive I am to his touch. I don't want to completely give him the upper hand. But it's proving to be more complicated than I thought.

"But you do," he replies curtly.

"How would you know that?" I ask, already feeling a bit annoyed.

"Every damn time you recommend that one wine when you cook Italian on Instagram. So either everything on social media is just for show, or you should feel a little caught, Miss...", he trails off.

Wow, now I'm completely speechless. So he really studied my profile. I can't figure this man out at all, and the more time we spend together, the more mysterious he becomes. But also more and more interesting.

"Okay, caught..." I respond resignedly, unable to think of anything else to say. I'm somewhat relieved when the situation is interrupted by the waiter, who sets down two glasses of red wine in front of us.

I quickly grab my glass and clink it against Negan's. "Well then, here's to a pleasant evening!"

He picks up his glass and clinks it against mine again. "And to the next intense climax you're about to have..."

I'm so shocked that I can't say anything and just watch as he takes a big sip from his glass.

Then he leans even closer to me and whispers in a deep voice in my ear, "And now, take off your pretty thong and put it in your handbag. We won't be needing it tonight...!" His words and the gentle tickle of his beard on my skin give me goosebumps, but this can't be serious, can it? We're sitting in a restaurant full of people, and even though our table is quite isolated, we are still in a public place.

"Negan, I... I can't..." I stammer, feeling a bit embarrassed.

But he just grins. "Of course you can, come on!" His lips start to gently touch my neck, and my thoughts once again become hazy.

"Do you want me to touch you?" he asks, running his fingertips gently up and down my thigh.

The only thing I can do now is whisper softly, "Yes."

"Then go ahead..." he demands.

Determined, I take a big sip from my wine glass and then discreetly take off my panties, constantly worried that someone might be watching me. I quickly tuck them into my small black handbag, thankfully placed next to me on the bench.

Finally, I dare to look Negan directly in the eyes again. The candlelight on our table reflects in his eyes, revealing the slight green tint.

He looks at me contentedly. "Wow, very obedient..."

My throat feels so dry that I immediately reach for my glass again, while his hand slowly, but deliberately, moves under my dress.

His fingertips lightly touch my most intimate areas.

"Since seeing you at the damn school, all I can think about is how you feel..." he whispers into my ear, and each of his words sends little electric shocks directly to my lower abdomen.

Negan grabs my inner thigh and slides my right leg over his thigh.

I convince myself that the tablecloth hangs down far enough so that no one can see underneath, at least I hope so. But when his index finger touches my clit, even that becomes secondary. I quickly bite my lower lip to stifle a moan.

But Negan's finger is relentless. He knows exactly what he's doing.

"Fuck, look at you! Do you know how damn sexy you are? Come on, spread your legs even wider..." he commands softly.

Without a second thought, my legs automatically open even wider, and I press my pelvis against him.

"Such a good girl!" he declares satisfied and slides his finger deep inside me. I'm already so wet that he can easily penetrate me.

But just then, the waiter arrives at our table. "Have you decided on your order?"

Instead of stopping what's happening under the table, Negan now penetrates me with another finger. That bastard! I cough loudly to stifle a moan and dig my fingernails deep into his knee.

But his only response is, "I have no damn idea what we should eat... I think the expert should advise us..." as he slowly withdraws his fingers from me, only to start massaging my clit with the perfect pressure.

"I'll have the lasagna, and he will too!" I blurt out.

Negan laughs, "Okay... you heard the lady, lasagna it is!"

Thankfully, the waiter leaves the table.

"You damn bastard!" I say, slightly out of breath.

"Oh, does that mean I should stop?" Negan asks innocently, slowly pulling his hand away. But I catch it in time and hold it firmly.

"Don't you dare!" I threaten him before our lips meet, and we kiss passionately. Then I whisper into his open mouth, "Come on, make me come!“

He carefully observes every reaction on my face as he continues to finger me. His movements become faster and harder, and my lower abdomen tightens repeatedly.

"Come on, sweetie, let go... Come for me now..." he whispers, and those words are enough to trigger a wave-like orgasm in me. Thankfully, he kisses me at just the right moment, otherwise the entire restaurant would probably have heard what was happening under the table.

[eclairfair98]

Pensacola’s far more crowded than the little Pete’s seen of Lemoore. Definitely more crowded than his own hometown in Texas. And somehow, it feels like a real city, a blare of noise overwhelming him at every turn.

Even the streets seem different. Much wider than he’s used to. Smoothly paved, crisscrossing everywhere. Pete watches the cars bolting past: a Corvette Stingray, an Aston Martin Vantage, a Chevy Camaro. Their windows gleaming golden under the bright winter sun.

Buildings with glass windows reach towards the tall blue skies, laced only by a few wispy clouds hovering in the distance.

He doesn’t know where he’s going. There’s too many streets, too many cars, too many sounds: the music twisting out of radios, the voices talking intently at one another, all blurring together into one.

There’s too many people. Men in sharp suits carrying leather briefcases. Women wearing dark sunglasses and rustling skirts.

All important-looking people, who walk past him quickly. As if on urgent business.

And all of a sudden Pete finds himself wishing that he was wearing something better than the sweatshirt and trousers he’d taken to borrowing from Tom’s wardrobe, once his own clothes stopped fitting him. That he was a couple of inches taller. That he had shinier hair and prettier teeth.

He finds himself wishing that he didn’t feel like a stranger in his own body, most of the time.

“You don’t know, Pete,” his mother had once told him, turning her tired gaze to the window. Her small pale hand tapping the space above her heart. “What it feels like. In here. You just don’t know.”

At the time, he’d wished he could know. What it felt like. What was in her heart. Wished he could erase the sadness lining her delicate face. Bleeding into her pretty eyes.

But maybe, Pete’d been better off not knowing, after all.

He blinks up at the sky, at the blanket of blue tingeing his sight. Thinks about pretty things. About how they don’t last in this world.

A stray cat with big green eyes slinks by. Pauses. Looks up at Pete expectantly. He leans over the swell of his abdomen to pet the soft spot between her ears. Feels the smile tingling at the corner of his mouth when she runs her prickly tongue over his fingertips. Nuzzles her little pink nose into the curve of his palm.

“Hey… you hungry? Let’s see if we can find you some food.”

The feeling inside of him doesn’t linger.

It floats away. Becomes smaller and smaller and then disappears, as the syrupy-sweet warmth of the afternoon settles back into his limbs.

The cat slips away from under his heat-stained palms. Tail swishing in the air as she darts down the sidewalk.

And Pete finds himself stumbling after her, socked feet slipping on the smooth soles of his worn-down shoes.

Warmth tightens in his chest as he runs down the paved concrete. Heat clinging to the afternoon air like crystallized salt. Washing everything with it’s golden touch.

It’s easy like this. To imagine that if he lifted his legs just a little higher, his whole body would float amongst the clouds.

Pete passes a group of little girls skipping rope. An old man with a newspaper tucked under his arm, who smiles at him when he races past. A boy about his age with a pile of heavy books in his hands, probably on his way home from the library.

He sees streets lined with shops selling flowers and pastries and suits and toys. Smells salt and smoke and the bewildering scents of the dozens of people around him.

Sweet notes of someone’s joy mingling in with the sharp bursts of someone else’s nervousness. Excitement and anticipation and worry and relief, all overwhelming him, all at once.

He turns an abrupt corner, his ears buzzing, pulse fluttering in his mouth, eyes darting from one unfamiliar end of the block to the other, when he sees a little kid crouched down on the crosswalk.

It’s an empty road and the few pedestrians who are rushing by, either don’t notice or don’t care to see the boy.

“H-hey,” Pete calls out, voice hoarse, color high in his cheeks. Each breath coming in heavier than the last as he looks up at the crosswalk signal. Sees the neon green numbers blinking down at him. Indicating he has plenty of time to get to the child. To bring him back to the sidewalk. “Are you alright?”

His feet feel swollen inside his sneakers. Protesting every step he takes down the pristine white lines marking the hot concrete, like thick stripes of mint candy.

There’s a sharp stitch in his side from all the running he wasn’t supposed to do. His doctor’s disapproving face growing bigger and bigger in front of his eyes, as the thick humid air makes a wheezing sound at the back of his throat.

Pete presses a shaky palm to the curve of his belly. Feels a furtive kick against his heat-stained fingers, the smallest outline of a foot.

Remembers the softness melting in Tom’s steady blue gaze. The careful press of calloused fingers against the stretched pink of his skin. The barely-contained wonder. The tender press of a mouth against the ever-growing swell of his abdomen. Against the curve of his lips.

I love you.

The wind rises, blows the shorter uneven bits of his hair outta his blurry eyes.

There’s a voice in his head. A voice that sounds remarkably like Tom’s. Telling him to stop. To turn around. To call for help.

The whites in his vision dance in a frenzy.

But he’s almost there. The boy is right there. Pete’s tired but he can’t stop now.

Big brown eyes blink up at him slowly. He can’t be older than five, maybe six. Pete wonders where his parents are.

Are you all alone?

The child doesn’t respond. Pete touches his lips — closed — doesn’t know whether he’s spoken aloud.

He notices the thick glasses lying in a crunched heap on the ground. The dark red blood plastered on skinned knees.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Pete tries again, kneeling down as deftly as his body will allow, breathing around the heat crumbling his larynx. Like it’s coming apart and sticking together all at once. “Why don’t we get off this road? And then, you can take me to your parents.”

“I’m B-Bernie, and I w-want my dad.”

The boy is scared. It’s thick in his scent, in the quiver in his chin, in the wetness pooling in his eyes. And it’s an awful feeling. Seeing a child so little, so scared. But it distracts Pete from the heat, the unsteady beat of his heart, the prickly discomfort creeping up his arms and legs.

If he can focus on Bernie’s fear, maybe he can drown out his own.

“Hey Bernie, I’m Pete. And I also want to find your father. Why don’t we go look for him together, huh?”

Bernie sniffles as he holds out his arms. Presses closer, the tip of his damp nose tickling Pete’s ear as he hiccups, “You’re s-scared… I can smell it. Please don’t be scared. After we find my dad, he’ll help us find your dad too.”

A wet laugh punches its way out of his aching chest as he hoists the boy up on his hip. Gently wipes the trails of dust and tears off his round cheeks. “Sure, kid. We’ll do that. Now let’s get off this road, okay?”

Bernie tugs on the sleeves of his shirt, hands stronger than they look. Burrows his wet face into the curve of his neck. Whispers a quiet thank you.

The signal tells him he has another forty-five seconds to get off the crosswalk.

Deck the halls blares out from the open window of a toy store.

The baby inside of him kicks hard, sending little shocks of pain down his spine.

And in the end, it’s far too late by the time he sees the speeding car peeling down the street.

His voice is silent, nowhere in his throat as his whole body curls around the boy in his arms. Around the little life in his belly.

Heaven and earth tumble, he grasps for the wind, and the streets fall away.

And then, there’s the sky — the fluffy white clouds like rabbits dancing across its spotless blue expanse.

He imagines reaching for them, swirling them around a stick, catching sunlight in each pristine wisp. Making tiny little rainbows all of his own.

Pete raises his hand to reach for the light, it feels sticky and warm.

Deafening wails threaten to pierce his eardrums.

Bernie.

There’s a sharp blinding pain in his chest, as though there’s a knife scraping the inside of his esophagus with every wheeze of air struggling to make its way to his lungs, but he can’t focus on that right now because: Where is Bernie?

Distantly, Pete realizes that the screams are coming from above him. That there’s little hands pressed against his chest, a torso huddled against his belly. That the hot tears rolling down his cheeks aren’t his own.

Are you hurt? Please, don’t be hurt. Don’t cry. Please.

The world seems only half real through the inky blackness seeping into his vision. Like a reflection of a reflection. Like something out of a story told long ago. Nearly-forgotten. Moulded by time into something else entirely.

At a glance, Bernie looks mercifully unharmed: moving all of his limbs, his scent untainted by the bitter notes of pain.

Dirt smears his forehead in a wide arc. Pete reaches out a hand to wipe his face, belatedly sees the bright crimson smeared across his own palm.

It dawns on him ever so slowly. As though the whole world has frozen around him. As though time’s come to a complete standstill. Like one of those films on tape that you can pause with the press of your finger.

Bernie’s screaming at the sight of blood. Pete’s blood. That’s soaking right through his clothes. That’s pooling around him.

And all of a sudden, he feels cold. Very cold.

Panicked voices surround him. Suffocating in their proximity. Someone tries to lift Bernie off of him, but the boy refuses to let go, holding onto his neck with a strength that can only be fueled by adrenaline.

There’s a cacophony of sirens in the distance, but Pete can’t move, he can barely breathe.

It’s like being choked by a noose steadily tightening around his neck. He wants to comfort Bernie, to ask for help — Tom, he needs Tom — he can’t stay here — the baby —

He places a weak hand on the swell of his belly, hoping for a kick, a movement, a flutter, anything.

His baby is frighteningly still as the last vestiges of consciousness leave his body, and there’s nothing between the sky and the ground but endless black.

[15-lizards]

Okay, odd ask on the fashion thing, but how do you think that Westerosi fashion would develop given a XVII/XVIII century advancement? I've been looking over some stuff and Jacobean and Baroque fashions seem so right in place. Feel free to go crazy with whatever prospective historical developments could happen in that time frame - I really enjoy your headcanons and was curious if you had any ideas on how Westerosi fashion traditions could progress past the Tudor/XVI century trappings of the modern timeline!

Okay I’ve always been too scared to do anything past the 1600s bc that gets into like Industrial Revolution territory but I’ve always kinda wanted to just for shits and gigs…

If we want to get really crazy we can start talking ab pannier skirts, the peak of ridiculous indulgent fashion. This would probably be way past the current events of the book like a good 30-40 years. After somebody takes the throne or abolishes the monarchy or smthn. Very ornate style that probably originates in the westerlands and becomes popular in the reach and vale, popular among ladies from newly risen families who want to show off their new wealth. Also kind of obsessed with this as a “Targaryen in decline but still trying to hang on to their status” type of look so we see the vision

For a slightly more subdued look, the skirts would be far flatter in the hips, though there’s still some volume. A natural-ish waist, square neck, and elbow length sleeves are seen as both practicable but also can been fashionable, and easily decorated in a manner of ways. Lace and frills and embroidery being the most popular. Easily and more widely produced in a more advanced era (Industrial Revolution in Westeros incoming) so everyone from middle class women to queens can wear this look, though it’s probably most popular in the crownlands/lower riverlands/anywhere where the climate is average

For the common folk and lower classes, clothing becomes more accessible as well. So most tavern owners and farmers aren’t wearing clothes that are literally disintegrating off their body anymore, with wider production of fabrics they can afford to have neater and cleaner clothes, and even brighter colors too. The start of mass production means a lot can be made for cheap, allowing lower class women to buy and make the clothes that imitate women of higher standing (this is just turning into a Westerosi Industrial rev headcanon sorry). Skirts are still shorter, shoes are sturdy and better made, aprons are common, and fitted jackets with shawls/fichus are worn for practicality during work

Hair is a very diverse affair. There’s a thousand different styles depending on class and location, but what’s the same is that there’s always a lot of volume. Even with the common women that wear caps and bonnets, hair is combed back and ruffed up so that it’s given a more voluminous outline. Some wealthy daring women like to wear theirs big or have their curls down or sometimes both, this is very popular in the reach to look wild-chic. Some just like to roll it and pin it for a sleeker look, and some like to let perfect curls hang down their necks with more curls pinned to their heads with ribbons and bows and frills

[multiversed-daydreamer]

Pet Chapter 2 - Nick

WC: ~ 3k

Summary: You get more comfortable in the QZ. You have a friend in Nick. And you think Tess might also be a friend too. Joel and Tess do their best to be patient while they try to figure out how to get you up in their apartment.

A/N: Here is chapter 2! I hope you guys enjoy it! No beta on this so all of my mistakes are my own. Check out my Masterlist for more!

Tags: MDNI, Manipulation, Grooming, Weed, Stalking, Obsessive behavior, Reader is disabled but can work. Dark!Joel and Dark!Tess.

The next morning dawns bright and early. You wish like hell you could get two days in a row off, but that is unfortunately not a thing in the QZ. So you force yourself out of bed and into the bathroom to brush your teeth and hair, throwing the latter into a bun before going to cook some eggs. You miss coffee. 

After scarfing down some eggs and toast, you put on your worn hiking boots, throw on your favorite red hoodie, and head out into the dirty streets of Boston. You’re painting today, thank god. It’s mindless work, but it’s fairly easy, and you can mostly tune the world around you out. Besides, there is a cute boy who signs up once a week, and you two talk on occasion. Nick is about your age and is friendly enough to get you to relax a little around him. Maybe you can convince him to do a burning shift with you to pass the time a little better. You head for the FEDRA check-in table, signing your name and snagging a roller brush and a half-empty bucket of paint. 

As you make your way to the wall, setting the paint can down and looking around for your partner, you notice a few people glancing at you before skirting away. You look around and spot Nick heading your way with a roller brush of his own and a pan to pour the paint into. He bumps your brush with his as he joins you on the sidewalk, setting the pan down and snagging the paint to pour into it. “Morning, you’re stuck with me today.” You joke as he stands back up and glances over at you. 

“Howdy.” He gives you a tired smile as he drops his brush into the pan, dipping it into the paint and rolling it out before lifting it to the far side of the wall. You follow suit, starting on the opposite side. “Heard you made a new friend yesterday.” He says it casually but the fact that he knew at all had you lifting an eyebrow. 

“Met someone, wouldn’t call her a friend. She mostly just showed me around the market.” You hesitate for a moment before turning to focus solely on your work. 

Nick eyes you worriedly. “I don’t mean to freak you out or anything, but Tess doesn’t just show people around the market.” 

You frown at him, your brows furrowing. “Yeah. I figured. We got a lot of looks yesterday. Who is she?”

“How’d you two even start talking?” He asks. His lack of answer irks you. But you sigh and launch into a quiet recap of the hour you spent with Tess yesterday. 

“She seemed shocked that she didn’t know me. I just told her it was a big QZ and planned on leaving it at that, but she walked out of the booth we were in and introduced herself. I didn’t want to be rude so I let her walk with me. She seems friendly.” You shrug, not mentioning to Nick that you thought she was really pretty too. “She told me a little about what to stock up on and what’s usually always at the market. You know, that kind of thing.”

If Nick’s eyebrows raised any higher, they’d get lost in his copper-colored hair.  “Dude, what the fuck?” 

“Who is she?” You ask again, a little frustrated this time. “Should I be worried or something?”  You glance over at him, your brush falling still on the wall. 

He opens his mouth and thinks about something for a minute before closing it again. “Tess runs the underground smuggling operation in the QZ. People don’t fuck with her, and unless you’re in on her shit, she doesn’t typically fuck with you either. Sticks with her smuggling buddies.” 

You blink at him for a second. “Oh.” You turn back and start a fresh coat over where you just were. You’re pretty sure you work with a smuggler on your burning shift. Miller. “Think I work with one of those guys. Miller, right?” Again Nick gives you a concerned look. 

“When do you work with Miller?” He asked curiously. 

“Burning shifts. About twice a week. We’ve never interacted or anything, but I’ve heard whispers about him. He kinda scares me.”

Nick nods in agreement. “He’s scary as fuck. He wasn’t with Tess yesterday?” 

You shrug. “He might’ve been around, I didn’t see him though. I was a little occupied.” 

Nick nods. “Odd. Joel and Tess are always together. Pretty sure they live together too.” 

“So they’re a couple?”

Nick nods. “Scariest couple in the QZ. Seriously, don’t fuck around too much with Tess. They’re…” He trails off for a moment, searching for the right words. “Dangerous. I don’t care how nice she was to you yesterday. She’s not someone to get close to.”

You nod. “Is that why people were looking at me yesterday?” You glance around the crowded sidewalk, relieved to see most people minding their own business. You raised your eyes to look at the walkway across the street. There, on the corner of the sidewalk stood Tess, with her was a tall, dark-haired man with broad shoulders. Miller from burning detail. Or Joel is what Nick called him. For a split second, you swear he raises his dark eyes to your own. You whip back around and focus on the job at hand. You get an inkling that they’re there for you, and it makes you grit your teeth. “Fuck.”

Nick huffs, glancing back at them before dropping his brush to the pan to get fresh paint on his brush. “Maybe you made an impression.” He jokes. 

You shake your head. “I don’t even think we talked for an hour. And I didn’t answer like half of the questions she asked me.” 

“Maybe you not answering her is what caught her attention. Tess isn’t one to be ignored.” 

You’re not sure why that sends a chill down your spine, but it does. You can feel goosebumps rise on your arms under your hoodie.

~

Joel and Tess were just coming back from an early morning deal when Joel spotted a familiar red hoodie across the street. He nudges Tess and nods in your direction. A small smile twitches on her lips for the briefest moment when she spots you. They shuffle themselves out of the way of human traffic and rest against the corner of a building. No one would think to bother them anyway. “Well, at least it’s only painting.” She offers, already sensing that Joel isn’t pleased to see you working. With a boy too.

Neither one of them where known for their patience. After spending a lot of the night going over a plan for how to get you and what to do once you were with them, they’d both agree that it’ll take some time to prepare, and likely even longer to get you to trust Tess enough to come up to their apartment. Even so, it was like agreeing to keep you had flipped a switch in both their brains. You were theirs already, and it’s going to be torture to watch you interact with anybody without their interference. 

“Who the fuck is he?” Joel grouses as he watches you talk to some kid from afar. He’s never seen you talk much to others, a few of the other women in their detail, but mostly just ask work-related questions. 

Tess gives him an amused glance. “Relax. They’re just talking.” But she makes a mental note to figure out who’s interacting with their pet. Not just the boy, but everybody you’re friendly with is now their business. Joel scoffs and looks over at Tess. She’s always been able to hide her emotions better than him, specifically the negative ones, but he knows her. He knows Tess is just as possessive as he is, if not more so. It bugs her to see you talk to someone just as much as it does him. 

Tess meets his gaze head-on. Raising an eyebrow. Joels sighs and looks back at you. His breath hitches in his chest when he sees you already looking at him. You whip back around faster than he can do anything else, though. The boy also glances at them before saying something to you with a slight smirk on his face. Joel nearly sees red when you shake your head and respond. Whatever he says next has you freezing in your work for a moment. You look very much on edge. 

They stay for about another ten minutes before Tess mutters about a meeting they need to go to for their next street run. You don’t turn around again and Joel wonders if it’s intentional. “I think she just figured out who we are.” 

Tess glances your way with pursed lips as she guides Joel into motion with a hand on his arm. “She was bound to find out at some point.” 

~

Weeks went by, it’s been two months since you’ve arrived at the QZ and you’re exhausted every day. Cordyceps may be the cause of the real-life zombies in the world, but FEDRA has its own zombies here in the QZ, overworked, underfed, underpaid, and every little thing that goes through the market tents is overpriced. 

This is the third time you’ve been back here and every single time Tess has managed to find you. You two walk along together, buying different items you both need. You try to find some sort of red flag, some kind of hint that she’s setting you up in some way, but you’ve got zilch on her. She’s kind, offers good advice, and there’s no alarms ringing in your head. She doesn’t touch you, or treat you like you’re some kind of baby who needs help. It seems like she just sees you at the market and chooses to walk with you for an hour or two before you head your separate ways afterward. She’ll walk with you to your building, tell you to have a good one, and watch you climb the steps to get inside. Then she turns and disappears onto her own way home, or wherever. 

~ 

“I’m just saying it’s weird,” Nick mutters for the millionth time. You shrug. He’s really the only person you’ve gotten close to. He worries about you talking with Tess, which you get, but it's starting to irritate you. 

“It’s not like I tell her personal shit. Hell, I’m not even the one talking most of the time. I look for something off with her every time she approaches me. I got nada. She’s normal as fuck.” You explain. Nick’s frown only gets deeper with your words. You two are starting to hang out outside of shifts now and the little attraction you had towards him a month ago has turned into a full-blown crush. But the issue with your thing for Nick is that you’re also secretly fighting to not have a thing for Tess. You’re not sure if it’s actual attraction or she’s just everything you wish you were. Strong, confident, smart, perceptive, able to read others easily. Seems to have most of the answers, and when she doesn’t, she’s not afraid to tell you she doesn’t know. She’s wonderful, and it sucks that Nick doesn’t think you should trust her. Hell, you’ve gotten around a little more and have heard all kinds of rumors about Joel and Tess, but while she seems completely terrifying to others, she’s so fucking normal around you that she almost bores you sometimes.

“Maybe she’s trying to lure you into a false sense of security.” 

“Why though?” You ask exasperated. “I’m not interesting enough to draw her attention. I’m not looking for drugs, I definitely not the type they’d want for a raid, and I’m not interested in breaking rules. I’m too boring to ever get Tess’ attention.”

“What about Joel?” 

You shrug. “What about him? He’s never at the market with us. I’ve talked to him one time and it was to ask him to help me with a team lift of shift. I’m pretty sure he only speaks in grunts. I’ve never heard him say a single word.” 

“That sounds pretty normal for him, actually.” 

You chuckle. “His speech is worse than mine.” Nick chuckles with you. You two are getting far closer lately and you think he just might feel the same way you do. 

~ Two weeks later ~

You wipe sweat from your brow as you step away from the FEDRA check-in stand. You tuck the ration cards you earned from today's shift into your pocket as you head toward the main street. You look around for Nick, sometimes he comes to meet you on the shifts you two don’t share together, but he’s nowhere to be found today. You find it a little disappointing.

“He’s not very good news, ya know.” You whip around at the voice, finding Joel Miller looking down at you. 

“Uh… Sorry?" You frown, you had no clue Miller could actually talk. 

“That Nick kid you run around with all the time. He’s trouble.” 

How does Joel Miller know you run with Nick? And why would he care if Nick is trouble? “How would you know?” The question is out of your mouth before you can think of how safe it might be to challenge someone like Miller. His eyebrow raises in surprise. 

“Ya know what I do for a side gig?” He asked back as he nodded towards the sidewalk, walking next to you. You nod silently, knowing he sells illegal items to civilians and FEDRA officers alike. He nods to himself as if making some kind of note about you. “I’ve seen him around in the underground part of the QZ. He buys from other smugglers. You seem like a good kid. Don’t get mixed up in shit like that. Stay away from him.” 

You stop, turning to Joel on the sidewalk, part of you wants to defend your friend, besides, what does Miller know? He’s never spoken to you and here he is telling you who to stay away from. You debate on telling him to fuck off flat to his face, but he walks right by you, not giving you time to come up with a response. You watch his back until the crowd swallows him. You can’t help but be a little pissed that he got the last word, and it was in the form of a command nonetheless. 

~ 

“Why did Joel Miller tell me to stay away from you yesterday?” 

Nick blinked in surprise. It was the first day off you both had had together in a while and you were spending it in Nick’s living room. Normally you’d be at the market with Tess right about now, but the encounter you had with Joel yesterday had spooked you enough to keep your distance from Tess at least for the next few weeks. 

“Since when do you talk to Joel Miller?” 

“I don’t. He approached me after shift yesterday. Told me you occasionally buy from smugglers and that you were bad news. Told me to stay away from you and walked off.” Nick laughs at that. 

He gets up and reaches into a drawer for a few items before returning to you. “I buy weed from some guys sometimes.” He shows you a joint and a lighter. You raise your eyebrow and smirk at him. 

“Is that shit even real?” You joke “Bet it’s cut with crack or something.” 

“Nah. It’s real and pure. Shitty, don’t get you too high, but it’s real.” He sticks one end in his mouth and lights it. He takes two hits before handing it out to you, raising an eyebrow. 

You hesitate. “You sure it’s not cut with anything?” 

He shakes his head. “Nah, I ain’t into that shit, and I sure as shit wouldn’t offer it to you if I thought it was. 

You believe him. You take the joint and take a hit, trying not to cough at how it catches in your throat sharply. You exhale shakily and hand it back, coughing a little at the end. It’d been years since you’d smoked weed. You two spend the afternoon talking and passing the joint between yourselves. By the time it’s finished, your mind feels emptier than it has in months and you’re giggling at everything Nick is saying. His smile is even prettier when you’re both high. You glance at the clock and realize curfew is in half an hour.

“Shit, I gotta go. I work tomorrow.” Another burning shift. Another shift with Joel Miller. 

“Can I walk you home?” 

You grin at him. “I’d like that.” He grins back. 

~

You’re still high as you make it you’re building, you and Nick are holding hands like it’s the easiest thing in the world and you’re both laughing at each other's every word. Damn he’s cute. You nod to your building. “This is me.” You grin. He chuckles, he’s been to your place plenty of times, he knows this is you. “I’ll walk you to your-” 

He’s cut off by somebody calling your name. You both turn to see Tess walking up to you. “Oh, Hello.” You respond with a small smile. You like Tess, but you don’t know her very well yet. 

“I missed you today.” She says. “Got worried.” 

“Oh sorry. I didn’t go to the market today. I was with Nick.” You gesture to him and he gives her a polite nod and a tight smile. She barely spares him a glance, her eyes scrutinizing your face for a moment. Then, to your surprise, she turns to Nick and gives him a small smile. 

“It’s getting late, why don’t you head home.” Nick seems just as stunned as you are before he nods. 

“Oh, of-of course.” He stutters a little before turning to give you a side hug. “See you later.” 

You fight to hide your ridiculous grin as you hug him back. "Thanks for getting me home.” You look up at him, searching for that easy camaraderie you two have been sharing all day, but his body is tense and he only gives you the same tight-lipped smile he gave Tess before turning and disappearing. 

You try not to be dejected by the behavior. He’s always been uneasy about your odd friendship with Tess. You’re sure actually seeing you interact with her throws him off a little. You turn back to Tess, who’s simply watching you curiously. “Did you need something?” You ask. It was getting close to curfew and you’re positive Tess had a further walk than Nick. 

“Like I said, I was worried about you.” She says lowly. 

Something about her tone raises your hackles a little bit. Her voice to low, like she was forcing herself to be calm with you. Maybe it’s because you’re high, but it’s the first time you got an underlying sense of danger around her. 

“I’m sorry. Didn’t need to buy anything this week.” That was true enough. You and Nick had started having dinner together and that leaves you with more food than usual after two weeks. “But I’ll probably be there next week. I’m starving!”

She watches you closely for a moment, eyes narrowing. “Are you high?” 

You let out a nervous chuckle at her question, your heart rate spiking. You’re not even sure why you’re scared, Tess literally sells and smuggles drugs. It really shouldn’t bother her at all. “Er… yeah. Nick had a joint.” You turn and step up a stair before turning back to her. 

She doesn’t say anything but you get the impression that she doesn’t like the idea of you getting high. Pffft. It’s fucking weed, who cares? “Hey, do you want to have dinner at my place tomorrow?” Her question takes you entirely off guard. 

“What?” 

“Joel’s bailing on me for the next few days. Since you bailed on me today, do you want to come have dinner with me tomorrow night?” 

You stand there for a moment, completely stunned. “Uh… I mean I work tomorrow but I could come over for a little bit afterward I suppose.” 

She gives you a smile. “I look forward to it.” She turns to walk away but you call out to her. 

“Tess! I don’t know where you live.” You give her a sheepish grin. 

“I’ll pick you up at four, that should give you enough time to shower and change beforehand.” She turns away and walks off. 

You get upstairs and land facefirst into your bed. The first thing you think is that Nick is never going to let you hear the end of the fact that you agreed to have dinner with Tess. The second thing you think about is that you never told Tess what time you get off. You guess Joel takes the burning shift enough for her to know when you get off, but you never told Tess you took the burning shift for tomorrow. 

~

Tess closes the door behind her. It’s the first time since they’ve decided on you that you’ve done something she’s had to hold herself back from wanting to berate you or even wanting to punish you. 

Joel raises an eyebrow from where he's sitting at the table looking over the plans for the upcoming raid. They weren’t going, but they’re still coordinating with the team that is. “What’s up?” 

“She didn’t show at the market.” Joel immediately sits up straighter. Tess holds up a hand to stop his immediate infuriated worry. “She’s fine. Was high when she showed up home though.” 

“High?” Joel’s lip curled into a snarl. “Who the fuck- Nick? Don’t tell me that fucker was with her today.” 

She nods. “He walked her home. She said she was with him today instead of going to the market. Saw them holding hands and giggling the whole way up the street.” 

Joel’s jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists. “I told her to stay the fuck away from him.”

Tess raises a surprised eyebrow. “You did? When?” 

“Yesterday after shift. Saw her looking for him when she got off. I told her I’d seen him around the smugglers. Told her he was bad news and to stay away.” 

Part of Tess wants to be mad at Joel for approaching you. But she agrees with him. So she nods. “She agreed to have dinner with me tomorrow.” 

“What? Like to come over to have food with us tomorrow?” Joel's pulse spikes with anticipation. 

“Not us. I told her you were out tomorrow. I want you to disappear for a few hours. You can come home near curfew, maybe we can ambush her.” She looks at him. “Tomorrow, Joel. We get our pet tomorrow.” Finally, after months of planning, you’d be theirs.

~

Previous || Next

[eomma-jpeg]

okay, this one is staying on tumblr as a wip because it is certainly not close to being a full story, but here is an intro to a millynai mermaid/fantasy au... (fully inspired and essentially cowritten by @noaafishfieldguide)

This is the story's prologue

The entire carpeted hall was empty, free of wandering eyes, and the guards normally stationed at her door were in the middle of switching their posts, which lent itself to be the opportunity Milly needed to escape. 

Gently pushing on her bedroom door to catch a glimpse, the situation in the hallway was exactly as Milly had hoped. 

Carefully slipping through the crack in her door, Milly walked as quickly as possible,  without making a sound, following her often retraced path to the gardens. But tonight she didn't want to linger among the well trimmed hedges or the budding peony plants, despite how lovely they looked in the glow of the lantern light. What she needed was a walk on the bank of the river. Something as refreshing as that was certain to calm her racing mind. 

Normally, she was permitted the freedom she desired to move freely from castle to town and to the surrounding area (and a particular cabin belonging to some beloved friends), but ever since the completely unsolicited announcement of her betrothal earlier that day, Milly had been kept under constant surveillance. 

It was almost like they knew she would be upset at this particular decision.

She huffed in frustration as she picked up her pace, exiting the maze of a garden often tended by her mother (well, her and her team of royal gardeners) at almost sprinting speed. Violently snatching one of the pedestal lamps to help guide her way, Milly continued her march to the river.

"What do they expect after an announcement like that, one that they didn't even run by me," Milly said quietly to herself, the pent up irritation finally coming forth, "They could have at least spoken to me before announcing something so… so…"

Important? Life changing? Devastating?

A bit of guilt panged in her as she realized she really did consider the engagement to be quite devastating. It would alter the course of her entire life, and she wouldn't have a single say, because she was the youngest.

Following the simple worn path down its winding slope, Milly's feet finally came to a halt as she reached the water's edge. A majority of the enormous river that her kingdom was settled along required a dock or man made entrances for a person to safely reach the rushing water, but thankfully her ancestors had constructed the castle near a calm inlet. The water was easy to reach, the sediment was soft, and it was so cold. Milly appreciated the chill as she pulled off her shoes; it distracted her from other less pleasant elements of her life. Like an arranged marriage. To a stranger. Someone her brothers hadn't even decided on yet.

Uncommon anger flared in Milly’s chest.

Beginning what was intended to be a peaceful stroll, Milly's feet marched with more weight than necessary, splashing the freezing water beneath her and up onto her calves. The water probably reached the hem of her silk gown and petticoats, but she didn't have the mind to care about that now.

"Rude brothers who only care about winning the crown," Milly grumbled, "Dumb Royal Court that always sides with them," she kicked her skirt out of the way, "And stupid foreign nations that always need appeasing."

Just trying to rid herself of the annoyance that buzzed around her, Milly stomped hard, water flying and her lantern swinging in her hands. As it waved in the air, the light caught on something that was much brighter than sand; something metallic. It was still a few yards away, and she was amazed her light even reached that far. Perhaps the item itself was glowing, calling out to her from the water's edge.

Curiosity got the better of her (though, she probably would have approached without the additional curiosity anyway) and Milly moved in closer. Lifting the lantern even higher to let the light cast further, her heart sank when she recognized the outline of a person.

"Oh, oh my…" Milly whispered, bunching up her skirts with one hand and rushing over to the body settled in the sand. She flung her shoes to the side and knelt down before the man. The light of her lamp was more ambient than she wished. She had hoped to get a better view, but she didn't need to see the person to know they needed her help; the darkened, wet splotches in the sand now lit by the moon and her light were evidence enough.

After gently nestling the lamp in the soft ground, Milly checked for breathing beneath his nose.

Nothing.

Panic struck her heart, afraid that she was already too late, but the body was still warm to the touch. She placed a hand on the man's bare chest, feeling for movement and searching for any signs of life. 

It was there, just barely, but he was breathing. The soft rise and fall of his chest was barely perceptible. A gentle heart beat snuck through as well: weak but persistent. 

Putting all of her hope and faith into her skills, Milly began a simple incantation, hoping she remembered all the elements correctly. Whispering the correct words (because words were always the easiest for Milly to remember) she watched as a faint pink glow formed around the man, revealing him more fully. Specifically, the identifiable glimmer of his dagger-like earring. Milly gasped.

"His Majesty…" she whispered, and the pressure to heal him increased tenfold. 

Glancing down his frame– now outlined and shimmering– Milly had missed a crucial piece of evidence: the King was still in his mermaid form. If he hadn't automatically changed into his bipedal form yet, then his arrival on the beach must have been just before she found him. The thought brought a bit of relief to Milly's spinning mind and gave her the hope she wasn't too late.

Continuing her work, Milly refocused her mind on the spell. Thankfully, her short little incantation had worked, and King Nai made a small groaning sound. 

Keeping her voice hushed, Milly spoke, "Don't try to strain yourself. I can't see your wounds, but they seem bad."

Completely ignoring her sound logic as the pink glow faded away, the King’s eyes could be seen opening in the dim light. As soon as their gaze met, Milly felt a shift in the air. It was similar to the feeling in Meryl’s home whenever she completed a new potion: magic had been expended. 

Carefully looking back at his lower half, she noticed the lack of scales on his hips and quickly turned back to his face, deeming it a more appropriate target.

The King’s eyes were weary, hardly focusing on anything. Milly noted that they glowed as well; a pale blue color that wasn't as common on the surface

"Your Majesty," Milly said with firmness in her tone.

Those lolling eyes finally locked on her. Then, his brows pulled together.

"Princess?" he croaked.

And then, in the poor light of her lantern, she watched his eyes roll back in his head, the King once again losing consciousness. 

"Ack!" She exclaimed involuntarily, "Your Majesty!"

Milly Thompson was a princess, and she knew when and where to behave. She knew which spoon and fork to used for which salad and soup. She knew how to address the Court and draw up proposals. She even knew the ins and outs of their current political minefield. 

What she did not know was first aid.

Laying both hands on his chest (something she swore she heard was for reanimating an unconscious person when magic wasn't readily available), Milly pushed down hard on the King’s sternum and she heard a grizzly snap. 

Another thing that Milly did not know was her own strength.

Immediately pulling her hands away, Milly clasped them against her chest. Half in part because she didn't want to hurt the King any further, and half because the King had woken up again, except this time he was screaming at her.

He gasped the moment whatever in his chest had snapped, "What are you doing?!" He yelled, then groaned while placing a hand over his ribs. He dragged dark blood along his bare, pristine skin, "I wasn't dead, you idiot. You don't perform compressions when the person's heart is still beating."

His eyes were sharp and critical, directing all of his anger at her, and Milly was having a hard time not shrinking beneath his intensity. It helped that he was still struggling to look at her, his gaze moving in and out of focus with each labored breath.

"You…" he took in a jagged breath, then hissed out his sentence, "You stupid… princess…" 

The mermaid King let out one final curse, then slumped back down in the sand. 

Despite the name calling, frustration, and outright rudeness, Milly knew she couldn't leave this man– this king– to die on the banks of her river, so Milly decided quickly on her next course of action and began undoing the lacing at her back.

Once it was loose enough, Milly stood and slipped the dress off then opened it as wide as possible. Thankfully, she had chosen a dress with a billowing circle skirt that would wrap the man well enough. 

Bending down to the unconscious mermaid, Milly covered him in the pink silk, swaddled it around his naked form, and hoisted him into her arms. He was lighter than she expected a full grown man (fish?) to be, but perhaps that was another aspect of not knowing one's own strength. His head lolled onto her shoulder, thankfully, saving Milly from trying to readjust him by herself.

Quickly, she noticed the slick feeling of blood leaking onto her arms and chills crawled along her skin. She recognized again the weight of the situation and began her brisk walk– barefoot– back to the palace.

[adridoesstuff]

Comparing Elisabeth's costumes in the Vienna productions of Elisabeth das musical (Act 1)

And I'm back once again to perhaps prove a point, but mainly to pour out some of the frustration. In this post, I'll be comparing the costumes chronologically worn by Elisabeth in the Vienna productions of Elisabeth: the original/1st revival (designed by Reinhard Heinrich; lower refered to as the Heinrich version) and the 2nd revival/Schönbrunn concert (designed by Yan Tax; lower refered to as the Tax version). The Yan Tax design was first used in the 2001 Essen production, but was later carried over into the 2nd revival Vienna production in 2012 and VBW kept on using it since.

I tried to mainly find higher quality photos of all these costumes, but sometimes, I had no luck in doing that. So, at times, I will use a screenshot because nothing else was available. I mainly tried to look for pictures of the 1st revival (circa 2003-2005) and 2nd revival (circa 2012 - 2013), but I will sometimes use pictures from the original production (1992-1996).

Disclaimer: the contents below are my subjective opinion as a student of set and costume design and I will be mainly looking at what the costume tells me within the context and the construction. If you prefer costumes I don't, your opinion is totaly valid and you're welcome to discuss why you think otherwise in reblogs and comments below. :) After each section, I'll try to sum up which of the costumes I liked better and why.

Little Sisi:

Heinrich version: light blue and white trachten/dirndl with a lace apron, hair bow and ribbon choker. Not only fitting her origin as a Bavarian princess, but also sweet with the pastel colors and the accordingly fluffy, but light construction. The costume is girly, but not hindering when is comes to Sisi climbing trees and other physical activities she mentions she likes.

Tax version: short green/brown/orange plaid print dress. Now, this is a historically plausible costume, but do I like it? Absolutely not. The colors and print are ugly and don't fit Sisi's character in the slightest. And with the way the costume has multiple ruffles and pleats, it just makes it too busy to look at. And the skirt is too fluffy for this point in the show. (And they did Abla absolutely dirty with the wig they gave her in 2022 Schönbrunn)

Which is better? Heinrich version all the way. It's sweet and girly, but not too much and I love that it's a trachten/dirndl. The Tax version is just too busy with the plaid and I don't like the colors.

Bad Ischl:

Heinrich version: Dark blue short-sleeved bodice and skirt, matching hair bow and velvet ribbon long choker and bracelets. This costume is directly inspired by what Elisabeth could have worn during this first meeting in Ischl (when she met Franz, she and all her family were in dark mourning dresses, since they didn't have time to change and unlike Helene, who looked washed out in her dark dress, the dark dress really suited Elisabeth). Another little interesting historical detail I noticed here is the choker, which looks like a ribbon choker Elisabeth was mostly depicted wearing during her engagement to Franz. So, awesome that they kept in these little historical details.

Tax version: Long-sleeved bodice and skirt. Now, I've seen this dress in a ton of different fabrics (white with a broad floral trim on the skirt, blue plaid) but I think the most common variant of this costume is this beige one with the orange-red and green pattern. Now, once again, this is a historically more plausible costume, since the meeting took place during the day and so it would be proper for Elisabeth to be covered up, but it doesn't take into account any of the historical happenings. Which just seems to me like the designer didn't do any background research into Elisabeth specifically. And if we're going on pure aesthetic level alone, this dress is so plain and boring.

Which is better? Once again, Heinrich won this. No question needed. And while we're at it, the colorplay the dark dress on Elisabeth offers in Nichts ist schwer is much better that the light dress (We're about to get into lighting here, because that is also important to consider). With the reddish and blue lights for this scene, the dark dress stands out against that very red Habsburg eagle, but the light dress gets a red/pink wash from the lights, which makes Elisabeth almost visually disappear in that scene (see image below). The entire colorplay in the Tax version is simply off for this scene (because the thing that most stands out to me isn't Elisabeth, it's Franz's VERY green knitted socks).

Wedding dress:

Heinrich version: white satin bodice and skirt with silvery translucent overlay, ruffled bertha collar with beaded fringe and puffed translucent sleeves. The amount of soft texture this dress has under the stage lights is so amazing and I really like the choice of sleeve here, since it does remind me of the puffed sleeves she had on her trachten, but this is like a more grown up version. And since the sleeves are translucent and long, it gives Elisabeth the appearance of not fitting in with the court ladies, who all have short sleeves in opaque fabrics . The silvery contrasts look great and the way that white fringe looks like the fringe on Tod's jacket from the Prolog (thus connecting them visually) is *chef's kiss*.

Tax version: white satin button-up bodice with pagoda sleeves and skirt with striped accents. This dress is giving me a whole lot of nothing. Like, there isn't anything eyecatching here. And it makes Elisabeth look kinda dowdy with how covered up she is. And, if they were going for more "historical accuracy", why then put her in a dress that could be classified as daywear (with the long sleeves and the very prominent buttons in the front) if all of the wedding should be taking place in the evening?

Which is better? Heinrich version. The Tax version is too flat and plain for me. If the Heinrich design is proving anything so far, it's that historical accuracy can easily be beaten out with good and purposeful artistic design.

Nightgown:

Heinrich version: structured white nightgown with a slightly raised waistline, broad lace straps and lace trim. Once again, I love the structure the fabric has, it looks soft and romantic under the stage lights. The straps are so characteristic and they make her arms completely bare, thus making her appear vulnerable when facing Sophie and the ladies in waiting.

Tax version: white satin empire waist nightgown with short puffed sleeves. They literally couldn't have picked a thinner and cheaper looking satin for this costume? It literally looks so flimsy, especially since this costume has no texture and no decoration going on. I think the very high empire waistline is also a rather off choice, since it would be very out of fashion during the 1850s and it is a waist placement that often looks awkward on a lot of people. And there are the sleeves. They are very awkwardly short. Especially on the concert costumes, the sleeves literally look like they have 2 cm of an inseam at best.

Which is better? I think this is no surprise, but Heinrich once again gets it.

Stationen eine Ehe:

Heinrich version: White robe with ruffled lace trimmings, long bell-shaped sleeves and a broad light blue sash at the waist. I always love when I see a good nightrobe on stage and this is no exception. The material is delicate and translucent enough to keep Elisabeth looking very vulnerable in this scene, even though she's covered up. And the amount and placement of ruffling is just right. What I also find very interesting is that sash, because that color is so eyecatching (reminds me of a robin's egg) and it really gives the robe a distinct look.

Tax version: Reddish-pink duochrome satin bodice with fake buttons and pagoda sleeves w/ white puffed undersleeves and a matching skirt worn over a circular hoopskirt. Once again, more historically plausable, but it doesn't offer me anything as a costume. By making Elisabeth's silhouette here the same as Sophie and the ladies in waiting and by not giving the fabric any sort of softening embellishments, it removes this vulnerability she should have here. And I don't get why they went for this weird pink shade, because it makes no storytelling sense. And while we're at it, why did they choose to put her in this braided wig here? In real life portraiture, we don't get Elisabeth depicted with her hair in these braided updos up until the mid 1860s. The Heinrich version cleverly went around this by keeping Elisabeth with long loose curls through Act 1 to emphasize her girlishness and naivity, so when we see her with her hair braided up in the portrait reveal, it's this clear visual breaking point for her, showing us how she matured. But in the Tax version, it's a mess when it comes to wigs.

Which is better? Once again, Heinrich takes the cake. I feel like I might be biased, but I just can't find any rhyme and reason in the Tax costumes so far.

Schatten Hungarian dress:

Heinrich version: black and dark blue striped satin bodice with a fake stomacher and puffed sleeves and skirt with a black lace apron. For how little time this costume gets on stage, it is so crucial in this design, since it is both a visual paralel with Elisabeth's Hungarian coronation gown (but here, the silhouette is less mature and it's like a dark version of that dress), but also, this dress is paralelled again in the Mayerling dresses, since Shatten in Act 1 and Mayerling are paralel scenes, where Death takes away one of Elisabeth's children because of her unadvised decisions.

Tax version: same dress as in Stationen eine Ehe, but over it is worn a red velvet atilla with gold cording and brown fur trim and a matching red velvet hat. The atilla looks decently made and the cording does seem ok. This is a much technically easier way how to do this quick costume change, but it's ok. What I don't like here is the hat. It simply looks awkward witch the placement of where it's sitting and that cord in the front doesn't make it better. And once again, I am missing the paralels!

Which is better? I will probably sound like I'm repeating myself, but Heinrich version wins again. You can never beat good paralels and visual connections in costume design.

Elisabeth, mach auf mein Engel:

Heinrich version: Same robe as during Stationen eine Ehe (but this time with a better picture). Still love it here, because this is still supposed to be a vulnerable moment (especially when Death comes in at the end). So by keeping her in this nightgown, which she previously wore at a vulnerable moment, we have an immediate connection of how she feels.

Tax version: White chiffon robe with elbow length sleeves w/ lace engageants and with a train trimmed with lace ruffles, worn over a long pale pink/peach/orange?? satin slip. And we have a dreaded return of that flimsy satin! The nightgown for the most part looks ok, but another of this production's big issues comes in here and that is a gaping issue on front closing overcostumes. (If you read my 2022 Schönbrunn roast, you might remember how I complained about the massive amount of gaping in the front Der Tod's doctor disguise had). Here, the gaping could have easily been fixed with an added ruffle along the seam.

Which is better? Heinrich once again.

Star dress:

Heinrich version: Cream bodice with gathered tulle overlay, bertha collar trimmed with pearls and 3 tiered tulle ruffle sleeves, matching skirt with draped tulle overlay, tulle sash and pearl necklace. I love how this dress isn't an outright copy of the Winterhalter portrait, but keeps the soft, etherial and dreamy vibe the dress has. This dress looks light as a feather and even if it doesn't outright have stars, it has a light shimmer in the tulle.

Tax version: Cream bodice decorated with tulle overlay w/ gold embroidered stars, with pleated bertha collar, single tier tulle ruffle sleeves, matching skirt, matching star embroidered shawl, white satin gloves and star necklace. I love how this costume looks exactly like the portrait! The design is great, but sometimes, there have been some hiccups with the execution, specifically with balancing the volume of the sleeve in relation to the skirt. The costume below is one of the better ones, but often, the sleeves end up being too big and the skirt too narrow, throwing the proportion off. And sometimes, the costume can end up looking too stiff.

Which is better? Depending on the version. For me, this will be a tie. The better versions of the Tax design are equally as good as the Heinrich versions. However, if I were to take into account some of the stiffer versions of the Tax design, Heinrich would take the win again.

[creepy-crowleys]

13, 26, 49

Character Solidifying Asks!

13. Did they like school? Teachers? Schoolmates?

((I think Crowley would have enjoyed school much more if she'd been able to attend pretty much anywhere else. As it was, her aunt homeschooled her for most of her educational career. She had tutors at a few points but most were never kept long, and she was never taught with other students.

Rose was as she was in most other aspects of their lives together: She viewed Crowley as innately damaged and incapable while also also driving her to meet higher than normal standards.

Crowley doesn't really realize it, but she does pretty well in learning environments. If she'd had other teachers, I'm sure she would have gotten along with a lot of them. She's always been kind of a weird nerd, so she might not have had too much luck with her schoolmates, but I'm sure she could have made some friends. Or at the very least been better off for not being completely isolated growing up.

I'm sure she probably liked some of her tutors too, but I have never named them or given much detail to who they were. I'd like to think one or two of them tried to help even if they ultimately weren't able to do much.))

26. What does your character’s home look like? Personal taste? Clothing? Hair? Appearance?

((Crowley lives in an old (late 1600's-early 1700's, haven't nailed down a definite age for it) center hall colonial just south of Kingsmouth. It's cozy for the most part? Crowley's partial to antiques and rustic design aesthetic, so lots of older furniture items, lots of wood, often worn or dinged with age and use. There's a homey sort of clutter, of books and knick-knacks taking up tables and shelves, and collections of curios - some magic and some mundane - on display. The curtains are often open in the daytime, and at night the lights are often kept dim in case any stray girlfriends happen to stop by or peer in.

There's a pet bed under the coffee table for Eciton, and decorative vases in the hall that Anodyne likes to fit in - what else would you expect from a cat fused with an octopus? The kitchen is tidy and warm.

Outside, Crowley's tidied the gardens and expanded the one out back, space for decorative plants and edible ones and the more mundane bees she keeps.

Clothing-wise, she generally sticks to sweaters and jeans, blacks and dark greys mostly, maybe a splash of color here or there - she likes dark reds. Mostly... She's still kind of uncomfortable showing too much skin. Long sleeves and pants, looser fitting, feels more comfortable for her, and she likes having jackets for the extra weight. She's doing better with wearing shorter sleeves and sometimes show midriff is okay! But cozy and able to hide is usually better.

Rose was always very rigid about Crowley looking like a proper lady - keeping her hair long, wearing blouses, skirts, and dresses, wearing makeup to try to downplay her scarring - so really, having the freedom to choose Not That has been pretty important to her.

Cutting her hair shorter wasn't initially her decision though - it was intended to be a humiliation by a cult that had taken her captive at the time. Keeping it short after was one part trying to take some power back by making it her decision and one part trying to deny that they'd hurt her. She has come to genuinely like it shorter now, with how short depending on her mood (or mine as the one drawing her). She thinks she looks cute and definitely not like an ugly man like her aunt always insisted!))

49. What about voice? Pitch? Strength? Tempo and rhythm of speech? Pronunciation? Accent?

((Crowley's voice is a bit of a lower pitch, kind of soft, a little rough, Western New England accent.

Like... She can project enough to be authoritative or threatening, but left to her own devices around friends and neighbors, she's pretty soft-spoken. She doesn't talk much in person - silent protagonist-coded, y'know? - and when she does she's prone to trailing off and leaving thoughts hanging for whoever she's talking to to fill in. People do have a strange tendency to tell her more than she necessarily wanted to know, so it works out.))

[trishmishtree]

A list of things I sewed in 2022

Last year I compiled a list of the things I sewed in 2021, except for some reason, I made the list in November so it missed some of the stuff I made at the end of the year, like my reversible apron and the cottagecore/modernized chemise a la reine, among others.

So this year, I figured I’d actually do my year of sewing in review at the actual end of the year. (Btw I have no idea if these are actually in chronological order. This is just the order I found them in on my blog, which is the order in which I photographed them.)

First, a needle holder made from scraps of fabric from old projects, because I was just keeping all my needles in plastic cases and desperately needed a better way to organize them.

Then I made a short underbust c0rset I drafted myself by tweaking the fit issues I had from the previous c0rset I made and self-drafted in 2021. That previous c0rset was based on a dress pattern that I got by tracing one of my dresses that I then used to make the silk satin dress I wore to a friend’s wedding. (Yes, this c0rset was made with the same navy blue silk satin I used for the dress. No, the two projects have nothing to do with each other, as the dress was not made to be worn over a c0rset.) It has a zipper front and laces completely up in the back since it’s not meant for waist reduction. I use it as a back brace for days at work when I’m expecting to spend a lot of time standing.

Then there were the first regency shift, short stays, and partially bodiced petticoat that I made and never got around to using for anything because the silhouette wasn’t right for the 1810-1815 era gown I want to make. I still have them hanging in my closet for when I finally get around to making something from the earlier 1790s-1805 era. The partially bodiced petticoat is absolutely necessary because I made the stays a little too long and they rise above the mid-bust level and make lines. The shift works fine for this set of stays, but it’s just a tad tight in the bust to work with later stays that lift the bustline much higher.

Because the regency short stays weren’t the right shape and height for the 1810s look I was aiming for, I made another set of regency stays after that. This I made and immediately hated because the silhouette was all wrong. I used the Bernhardt pattern but didn’t get the bust and hip gusset shapes right, and I used bias tape for binding, instead of straight grain binding, so the whole top edge stretched out and flattened my bust instead of lifting it. I also found out that the Bernhardt stays pattern just inherently doesn’t work if you have scoliosis at the level of your spine where you take the measurements needed for scaling this pattern. These stays are now in my scrap bag because I harvested the boning and lacing from them for the new and improved pair (discussed below but not pictured, for decency reasons).

After that came the historybounding Victwardian shirtwaist and skirt that I made this summer. The floral skirt is a calf-length full circle skirt with a pleated back and is my absolute favorite skirt in my wardrobe, if only for the sheer amount of work that went into making it. The only issue is that I miscalculated when I was cutting out the waistband, so it ended up about 1 inch too short. It’s still wearable though, and I don’t mind it too much because the slightly tighter waistband means that the weight of the back pleats won’t drag the back of the waistband down. Alas, I don’t wear it all that often because I spend all of my waking hours either in a hospital where I wear scrubs or in a doctor’s office where people cough on stuff. While the skirt is machine washable, it’s a nightmare to iron, and the sateen weave warps with every wash. The blouse I’m much less fond of because it’s too poofy for daily wear, and the lace collar is annoying to deal with because it somehow manages to gape and choke me at the same time.

Then I took apart my purple floral skirt from 2021 and remade it because I have control issues and perfectionism issues and there is a long list of problems I had with the original skirt and wanted to fix:

Because my first attempt at a Victwardian shirtwaist was only minimally successful, I took another attempt at a historybounding blouse, this time with a Peter Pan collar and tucks instead of lace. I did go back and reposition the sleeve gathers after taking this picture. Still not entirely happy with the sleeves because I prefer 3/4 length or elbow length sleeves, so I tend to roll these up when I wear them. Also not entirely happy with the positioning of the collar. I feel like it should be higher up on the neck and sloped, not flat against the collarbone area, so I kind of want to make a set of detachable Peter Pan collars that I can wear with different outfits.

Then in August-September, I made the Capetember cape while working inpatient for a month. I didn’t end up wearing this one as much as I thought I would, mostly because it’s too short to curl up and wrap myself up to lounge in. But it did keep me warm for the like 2 slightly chilly days of autumn we had this year. Next time I’m including arm slits for practicality.

My first attempt at Edwardian/late Victorian combinations took 2 solid weeks.  The combinations themselves didn’t take all that long to assemble or drape on myself, but what sucked up most of that time was the amount of hand embroidering I took upon myself to do because I couldn’t find the right kind of beading lace to go on the waistband and leg cuffs. The combinations are based on the extant from the Met. I think I ended up making the straps too short because it’s not blousing at the waist quite right. The waistband lace is pretty, but it’s too bulky to wear under c0rsets, and I cut the buttonholes too narrow for the ribbon to come through without puckering and folding on itself. The drawers overall are just not full enough and bunch too much in certain places, so if I ever make this again, I’m going to try the Laura Baldt Clothing for Women circular drawers pattern instead. I would also go for a thinner, drapey-er fabric next time.

Then I made another c0rset. This time it’s an Edwardian S-bend c0rset based on the Aranea Black Tulip pattern. It’s made from a heavy cotton canvas with an outer layer of silk shantung. It’s also the first c0rset I’ve made thus far that actually has a metal split busk, which makes getting in and out of it way faster. It still needs some hip padding to fit properly, so that’s going to have to be a project for next year.

The S-bend c0rset doesn’t actually fit without a bust improver, which I made from stash/scrap fabric based on the LACMA extant:

And then I finally circled back to the regency era to make a new set of stays to redeem myself. They’re definitely an improvement on the old pair, but I can’t post pictures because it’s an underbust design, and the historically inaccurate cotton voile shift I’m wearing under them is completely sheer. So you’re just going to have to enjoy this photo of the new fully bodiced petticoat that I also made around that time and am wearing over it for modesty. (You can also barely see how the shift is just ever so slightly compressing my bust down because the new stays lift it into a higher position than the shift has room for.)

And then, since I was in the business of doing everything twice when it comes to regency costuming, I made another regency shift. This one is made from 100% linen (but probably not as sturdy as 19th century linen). It makes for a really comfy nightgown too.

And then, I finally got started on the regency gown project that I keep referencing but never got off my butt to do this year. I managed to embroider and finish the bodice before the end of 2022, so I’m including it on this list even though the gown is still nowhere near finished.  (Using my hand as a censor bar because my new 1810s stays are really good at lifting the bust, and my new shift was being Opinionated today and didn’t want to help contain it.) The final gown will have a front bib panel that’s attached to the apron front skirt and will cover everything that’s currently threatening to spill out of the neckline of my shift.

Not included in photos because I didn’t think they were worth photographing:

a seam roll I made from scraps of the purple floral and black and white chair slipcover fabrics

a set of fabric face masks I made from the last scraps of the same two fabrics. I haven’t worn them all that much, though, since they tend to fog my glasses and I prefer the regular blue masks

a couple of polyester satin half-slips that I made to wear under my skirts so they don’t cling to my tights when I walk

a mousepad I made for a coworker’s birthday

a wine tote and matching coasters I made for another coworker’s birthday

a couple of floral embroidery pieces I made for two other coworkers’ birthdays

an apron I made as a going-away present for a former coworker’s graduation

a fleece blanket I made for my cat

a pocket I sewed into the inside of my whitecoat so I could have my iPad on my person while rounding in the hospital without worrying about accidentally leaving it in a patient room

a newer, bigger, studier tote bag to replace the one I made in 2021 (nothing happened to the old one, I just wanted a bigger bag for work)

an alteration I made to improve the fit of a dress I’ve owned since 2017 that had since shrunk in the wash and was too tight in the shoulder area

an Edwardian dip waist belt I made from the same floral fabric I used for the skirt above

Overall, this looks like a pretty good list for someone who sews exclusively by hand. With 33 projects/items made, and me working 12 weeks of inpatient shifts in the past year, I’m basically averaging about 1 project per week on the weeks that I have the energy for creative pursuits.

Looking back, it seems like about half the things I made this year were 1800s-1810s and 1900s underwear that no one is ever going to see. Hopefully I’ll get around to making actual clothes to go over these pieces in the coming new year.

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

After Each Midnight Begins A New Day

Extra #14 - 'In-Law' is a Two Word Horror Story

SangCheng Week Day 1: Family [In-laws]

[Masterpost] [AO3]

“Be nice to him, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang reminds him for what must be the thousandth time. And that in addition to Meng Yao and Lan Xichen telling him the same, though thankfully by virtue of distance Lan Xichen has had to do it by post and is therefore limited to being able to say it only as many times as he’s willing to send a letter. (That number is still higher than Nie Mingjue would like in this particular case, although the bright side is that it’s more letters from Lan Xichen and his admonishing only takes up a very small amount of space on a page, which leaves plenty of room for other, better things.)

But anyways, back to the point, which is – “I’m always nice,” Nie Mingjue grumbles. “A-Yao, tell him I’m always nice.”

“This Meng Yao apologizes, but the habit of refraining from telling lies while within Cloud Recesses has not yet worn off, which unfortunately makes meeting Zongzhu’s request impossible.”

“You –!” Nie Mingjue is stopped from any further movement towards Meng Yao’s self-satisfied, unfairly attractive little smirk by his brother hanging off his arm with a whine.

“Da-ge! They’ll be here any minute to start the negotiations, will you please promise me you won’t try to scare him off?”

“I won’t!” Nie Mingjue snaps, beginning to grow genuinely irritated. He’s not some raging boar ready to charge at a moment’s notice! And what older brother wouldn’t be protective after finding out he sent his didi away to summer school only for said didi to come back with a boyfriend?! One who hadn’t even helped him pass his classes, at that!

“A-Sang,” Meng Yao begins with gentle censure. “I believe you may be focusing your energy in the wrong place. Need I remind you that your mother-in-law to be is the Violet Spider? If anything, a bit of intimidation on your side will likely not be unwanted when negotiations begin.”

“Ah..” Nie Mingjue spares a glance down at his brother still hanging off his elbow to find he looks a little ashen all the sudden, eyes faraway and sort of glassy. “Da-ge, I have suddenly had a marvelous idea. Why don’t you draw Baxia and just…just have her ah..ready to go.”

Nie Mingjue snorts and shakes Nie Huaisang off his arm (gently, because yes, he is in fact capable of that) just in time for the portcullis to begin lifting. Meng Yao stands at flawless attention just behind his right shoulder, Nie Huaisang does his best to stand straight at his left, and Nie Mingjue concedes enough to his flaky little brother’s demands to cross his arms over his chest and attempt to convey how much he’s not entirely thrilled about this whole…situation. Thing. But without being completely off-putting. Hopefully.

Ugh. Betrothals. What a headache!

-/-

“You are not to speak even if spoken to,” Madam Yu barks as she strides forward, leaving everyone (except Yinzhu and Jinzhu) to scramble in the wake of her fluttering skirts of purple and teal, the finest fabrics dyed with the best dyes Lotus Pier has to offer. “That goes doubly for you, Wei Wuxian, it’s bad enough this must be done during your season in Lotus Pier in the first place. Do not ruin this for A-Cheng or I will post whatever little remains of your body back to Lan Wangji in a box no wider than three cun on every side.”

“Yes, Auntie Jiang,” Wei Wuxian intones at the same time Jiang Cheng manages a slightly beleaguered, “Mother,” that’s just shy of a whine.

Madam Yu ignores him as they hurry through the empty space between where they’d stopped the traveling party a polite distance away from Nie territory and the imposing façade of the Unclean Realm looming ahead of them. Jiang Cheng feels himself quail a little at the sight of it, intimidated despite the times he’s visited before as a child and thought little of it. He wasn’t approaching it back then as the hopeful fiancé of its young master, after all, and the stakes are dizzyingly higher now that that is in fact the case. Somehow a summer spent carefully courting Nie Huaisang and letting the other boy enthusiastically court him right back in every shameless way imaginable didn’t quite translate into marriage negotiations between two extremely powerful families in his mind.

“You had the right idea before, A-Xian,” Jiang Cheng mutters out of the corner of his mouth when they’re standing in front of the gates, waiting to be admitted.

“Ah? When? This almost never happens, be specific so I can gloat properly A-Cheng,” Wei Wuxian whispers back and Jiang Cheng can hear that his brother is grinning (though he refuses to give him the satisfaction of looking over to see it for himself).

“Getting engaged as a kid. Everyone just did the negotiations without you and you got to skip all this bullshit.”

“I said to keep your mouth shut, Wei Wuxian!” Madam Yu snaps when Wei Wuxian snorts too loudly to contain it, and he’s still unsuccessfully attempting to hide more giggling behind his hand as the portcullis rises in front of them.

Jiang Cheng’s heart – already pounding a little out of rhythm just from seeing the exterior of the Unclean Realm – kicks into an even higher gear when the first person he spots is Nie Mingjue standing there waiting for them and looking absolutely thunderous as he does it. Was he always so tall?! Jiang Cheng immediately can’t help but think of all the things he and Nie Huaisang got up to over the summer with absolutely no one around to chaperone them and he swears it must all be spelled out in big fat calligraphy right on his forehead for the way Nie Mingjue’s scowl deepens when he meets his eyes.

“Dibs on having the scariest in-laws,” he whispers a little desperately, needing some kind of reassurance from his brother despite how often he asserts that he’s grown now and doesn’t need anyone to look after him, especially not his stupid brother.

“No deal,” Wei Wuxian mutters back as greetings and bows are exchanged all around with perfect poise. “I’ve got Lan-Xiansheng for an in-law, and we’ve been having tea once every week that I spend in Cloud Recesses since I was ten. I win by default.”

Jiang Cheng sneers a little at that but can’t deny that Wei Wuxian makes a good point. He forces himself to look away from Nie Mingjue – his future brother-in-law – to look at the reason he’s doing all of this in the first place…only to find Nie Huaisang staring in wide-eyed terror at the Violet Spider in all her blistering ‘Yu-furen’ glory. He sneaks a glance at Wei Wuxian out of the corner of his eye only to find his brother doing the same, and when he whispers, “Actually, I think A-Sang wins this one,” Wei Wuxian just nods back at him with wide eyes.

“Auntie Jiang for a mother-in-law…” he whispers in awe as they’re lead into the Nie fortress for the welcoming banquet that’s set to precede the first round of negotiating. “Nie-xiong must really love you.”

Jiang Cheng flushes scarlet under his layers of collars to hear it said out loud so plainly, but when Nie Huaisang sneaks a glance back at him over his shoulder to offer him a little smile and a flutter of his fan, he has to admit that maybe his idiot brother makes another good point.

Maybe Nie Huaisang does really love him.

[purplecatruins]

So I wanted to write about the different fashion in the Mean Girls movies and how the character's fashion has evolved. I couldn't really believe it when everybody called the 2024's Mean Girls shein girls, ugly and cheap, etc.

So I watched the original Mean Girls again :D and finally saw the musical version. And sadly, all of you were right. Who would have thought... :D

I read interviews with the costume designer, who did both movies (2004 and 2024), and kind of went with the same strategy for both movies: They wanted to represent high school girls realistically and thus, wanted them to wear clothes that would be worn by real girls at the time. For the first one they went vintage shopping, added some designer bags and custom made some of the clothes, all of the prom dresses and the halloween outfits. But besides their bags, which are mostly Louis Vuitton, and the Burberry plaid skirt worn by Gretchen with her Punk-shirt, I couldn't really find any more designer clothes...? So it's not like they were dressed head to toe in designer throughout the whole movie; this could not really be the reason why the original one looked better.

So I thought maybe the clothes just looked more expensive (the "R"-necklace from Regina e.g.) in the original movie and this is why everyone was critiquing the clothes from the musical version. There they also went for a mix of standard everyday clothes (Good American, Cider, ASOS, and Ganni on the higher end spectrum of that category) and some designer shoes and bag (pink Valentino pumps (although they looked a bit cheap), and this time more Versace than Louis Vuitton bags).

E.g., Regina George: part of her allure is her unattainability, which is represented by her clothes (and living in a mansion), wearing designer brands no one can really afford at school (although used sparsely throughout the movies), but more importantly it's her whole aura. Her clothes help her get that but she also just exudes some kind of it factor. The 2024 film included more of the actresses' personal style, so Regina is definitely a more cool, less feminine version than the 2004 Regina because Renee Rapp wanted to reflect that. And Renee Rapp is definitely cool, charismatic and confident, so I had a hard time with her not really pulling off the clothes, although they fit her, but they looked weird on her and I couldn't ignore it. Renee can pull off preppy style like Leighton's from Sex Lives of College Girls, so she definitely can make clothes look good even if they are not her personal style. This is not the problem!!

Long story short, it must be the clothes. Clothes are just made from cheaper materials nowadays (all the transparent mesh shirts and the pink corset look just cheap in the 2024 film), the life cycle is supposed to be shorter and materials disintegrate after washing them repeatedly. Although they are produced in large amounts, which reduces the production costs, brands just increase the profit margin, not making the clothes in better quality instead. Mina Le did a good video on this topic, using the debate about the wool sweater worn by Billy Crystal as Harry from When Harry Met Sally and the reimagining of Ben Schwartz from last year to compare the quality of clothes, particularly of wool sweaters.

To conclude, although the strategy of the costume designer seems to have been the same for both movies, she didn't really take into account that the general quality of clothes declined since 2004. So the same brands respectively today's brands that compare to their 2004 counterparts from a financial standpoint are not necessarily the same quality anymore. They probably needed to move one to two price points up the ladder...One reason is trends that were not there in 2004, e.g. mesh and lace do not look good when it is cheaper polyester what you only find with brands like Cider. So by keeping up with the fashion trends they would have to look at other brands. Which would be brands that middle class teens (those in Mean Girls) probably cannot afford to shop at all the time...

The costume designer should have just opted for an even more unattainable look and really dressed the plastics in high end quality clothes throughout the whole movie, going really over the top. It's a fricking musical it's what would have been expected. They already redid it as a movie, just because they wanted to, so just go buy or rent good quality high end designers to amplify Regina Georges status!!

The new mean girls movie really is Do Revenge (2022) and not Mean Girls (2024) - the latter really is just the shein version!

What do you think?

[box-architecture]

"You should wear outfits like this more often, Dreamboat."

"How long did it take you to come up with that one?" Dream asked dryly as he pushed his hips back. Schlatt swatted at his ass, enough force to cause Dream to whimper, but not so much that he'd become annoyed. It was a delicate balancing act, learning what Dream liked and what he didn't care for, but it was worth it to hear him actually moan during their time together.

(This would, of course, be easier if Dream just told him, but his stubbornness was part of the reason taking him apart was so enjoyable, anyway.)

Schlatt let his hands wander up, up, up, the slinky fabric in his hands shimmering like stars. His gnarled fingers settled on the back of Dream's neck, not to squeeze, but to feel the mulberry bruises from his teeth as they slowly gained color. Dream's breath hitched as his thumb settled on a particular one covering his pulse, the one Schlatt had put extra care into making sure it'd darken.

When Dream finally began to squirm, Schlatt pushed him to bend over the desk. "I'm serious, you clean up nice. I bet if we went out for dinner everyone would be dying to get a better look at you."

That just-ah- that just sounds like another reason not to go out." Dream huffed. They'd had this not-quite-talk before; Schlatt was nothing if not determined to be the winner here.

"Then we go somewhere private," he went on, "somewhere discreet. I know some off-server restaurants willing to give us our own little room. Good food, good view. You can't tell me youre immune to a good time."

Dream tried to scoff, but Schlatt leaned down to blow a puff of air down his back, and it was cut off.

The dress he had bought for him had long slits that ended mid thigh, revealing nylon covered legs. He liked to think Dream appreciated the ease of movement, if not the ease of access during the activities it would be worn during. It was effortless to slip his hands inside and knead at the muscled thighs Schlatt had grown to appreciate, and even moreso to raise them higher and-

His thumb met hard silicone.

"Youre wearing a plug," Schlatt frowned. He pushed away Dream's skirts to get a better look. "What for?"

"Makes it easier for you," Dream said flippantly, laying his head down on his arms. Eyes a shade off chardonnay glanced at him with indifference. "Less work, less time having to prep. That's good for you, yeah?"

That. Schlatt scowled. He tore at the nylon, pulling the plug out in a single smooth movement and feeling goosebumps at the way Dream cried out. At the start it was a chore, of course, but as their sessions had gone on, Schlatt had found enjoyment in taking the time to work Dream open, drinking in every noise that spilled from his lips like a man in constant thirst. Dream seemed intent on making their get-togethers as quick and boring as humanely possible, as if his pleasure was irrelevant to the goal.

It was a fools errand on Dream part, because Schlatt had no intention of letting this day end without, at the very least, getting his pretty partner to cum on his cock.

[sheliesshattered]

I’m getting so close to done on the mock-up for Rhaenyra’s red dress, and I am so excited!

A few days ago I decided to try taking the mock-up in a little along each of the 10 seams, starting at the underbust and waist and high hip, and then easing out into just a slightly narrower skirt. Even just pinning it in made the whole thing look much better, so I decided it was worth it to re-sew the seams and see if I want to make the changes to the paper pattern.

I only took about 2mm in at the waist on each side of each panel, but multiplied by 20 (10 panels, 2mm each side) it’s actually a reduction of 4cm over all, which I was worried would be a bit too much but turned out to be pretty perfect. The high hip came in about 5mm at the seam line, and from there I just drew a straight line from the new waist measurement to the new high hip measurement and continued that line straight down to the floor. 

At the hem it works out to a reduction of about 62cm total -- spread evenly across all 10 panels of course -- which should leave me with a hem circumference of 245cm (~2.67 yards). It looks a lot more similar to the width of the skirt in the show-worn dress than it did before, and bringing in the torso helped the overall look quite a bit, too.

Once those adjustments were done, I was able to focus on just the few little places that still need a bit of tweaking. The lower curve of the back armscye needs to extend out a bit further than it currently does, and I want to pinch out just a liiiittle bit in the overbust area where the center front meets the side front. I think the center front shoulders are also sitting just a bit wider than I’d like them to, so I’m going to redraft that bit to be closer to vertical than it is now.

While I was doing all that pinning and marking, I got to the question of the neckline, which I had raised slightly when I redrafted the center front panel during all the bust adjustments a week or so ago. I just kind of eyeballed it based on the width of the trim and how low I thought the necklace would sit on me, but now-- 

Last month when I decided I was definitely for sure doing this cosplay, I went ahead and ordered the screen accurate necklace from the maker on Etsy, knowing that it was shipping from Italy and would take weeks to get here. I was kind of half-thinking of it as a birthday present to myself (along with the rest of the cosplay I guess, heh) and had resolved to not even open the package until my birthday. But it arrived yesterday! And so while doing adjustments today, I realized that I could try on the actual necklace and figure out if I need to make any changes to the neckline in this last round of edits before I move on to the silk fabric.

So even though there’s still about two weeks until my birthday, I went ahead and opened the cute little wrapping the necklace arrived in. The necklace itself is lovely, looks absolutely perfect in terms of screen-accurateness, and the chain is super long but I knew it would be, I’ll trim off the excess at some later point. I put it on and adjusted the chain length so it was sitting right below my collarbone. Then I pinned down the 1cm seam allowance at the front neckline (the final version will be getting an interfacing of silk organza cut on-grain to help support the weight of the trim+beading) and tried the dress on aaaand... It’s perfect. No edits necessary, lol. I could have waited another two weeks to try the necklace on, but I’m glad to know that the neckline doesn’t need to be higher or lower or anything. :D

So next up, I’m going to make those few small adjustments to the paper pattern -- bringing in the upper few inches of the center front so it’s more vertical and less off-the-shoulder; extending the back armscye by just a tiny bit; truing up the upper portion of the side front and side back where they meet the center front/back, so the shoulder seams lie the way I want them too; transferring all the taking in at the waist and skirt to the paper pattern; and then re-truing the skirt panels to make sure they’re all the same width again (I’ve come so far from trying to just draft them all at a 7° angle, lol).

And once all that is done, the paper pattern will be finished! Since these last changes are so minor relatively, I’m not going to re-cut any of the mock-up. The next step will be starting in on the underdress by tracing the pattern onto the black silk organza. If there are any last little changes I want to make based on how the underdress fits, I’ll have the chance to do it before starting on the outer layer.

I don’t have tracking info for the red silk fabric, but I expect it’ll arrive some time in the next week or so. My silk pins arrived today, the cotton thread in both red and black a couple of days ago, and the narrow trim that goes over the seams arrived on Monday. The only other thing I’m really still waiting to arrive is the 65/8 microtex machine needles I ordered, but I do have some 70/10 microtex that I used to sew a narrow zigzag on the cut edges of the organza before I washed it. The fabric still had holes in it after I took out those zigzag threads, but it didn’t snag or anything, so if I get antsy waiting for the 65/8s to arrive, I can try using the 70/10s. 

But I still have several steps to go before I’m ready to even do the stay-stitching on the black organza under layer, much less actually sew the seams. And this last week at work was weirdly slow, so I was able to squeeze in a little sewing/drafting/fitting here and there -- but I expect the next two weeks will be a lot busier. In all likelihood both the needles and the red fabric will arrive before I’ve got all the pattern pieces traced onto the black fabric.

Even just at the mock-up stage, it’s starting to look so much like Rhaenyra’s dress, and I am so excited, all I want to do is work on it and get it looking more and more like the real thing and uuuugghhhh. I’m well on track for getting it done in time for Dragon Con without any rushing, but knowing that I may not have much time to work on it for the next two weeks is definitely a sadness.

[sanajames]

The Ultimate Guide to Choosing the Perfect Heels for Women

Heels are more than just a fashion statement; they are a symbol of elegance, confidence, and sophistication. Whether you're dressing up for a special occasion or adding a touch of glamour to your everyday outfit, the right pair of heels can make all the difference. At Bash, we offer an extensive collection of heels for women, designed to suit various styles and preferences. In this comprehensive guide, we'll explore the different types of heels, how to choose the perfect pair, and tips on styling them for any occasion.

Types of Heels

Understanding the different types of heels can help you make an informed choice. Here are some popular styles to consider:

Stiletto Heels: Known for their thin, high heel, stilettos are the epitome of elegance and glamour. They are perfect for formal events and nights out, adding height and a sleek silhouette.

Kitten Heels: Kitten heels are a more comfortable alternative to stilettos, featuring a shorter heel that typically ranges from 1.5 to 2 inches. They offer a chic look while providing more stability and comfort.

Block Heels: Block heels have a wider base, offering more support and comfort than stilettos. They are versatile and can be worn with both casual and formal outfits, making them a practical yet stylish choice.

Wedge Heels: Wedges provide height and support with a continuous, solid heel that runs from the back to the front of the shoe. They are perfect for summer outfits and casual occasions, offering both style and comfort.

Platform Heels: Platform heels feature an elevated sole that adds extra height without compromising on comfort. The added platform reduces the overall incline, making them easier to walk in compared to traditional high heels.

Choosing the Right Heels

Selecting the perfect pair of heels involves considering several factors. Here are some tips to help you find the right heels for women:

Comfort: Comfort should always be a priority when choosing heels. Look for heels with cushioned insoles, arch support, and a design that distributes weight evenly. Try walking in the heels to ensure they feel good on your feet.

Heel Height: Consider the heel height that suits your lifestyle and comfort level. If you're not used to wearing high heels, start with kitten or block heels and gradually move up to higher stilettos or platforms.

Occasion: Think about where and when you’ll be wearing the heels. Stilettos are great for formal events, while block or wedge heels are better suited for everyday wear or casual outings.

Material: The material of the heels affects both their appearance and durability. Leather and suede are classic choices that offer a sophisticated look, while synthetic materials can be more budget-friendly and come in a variety of styles.

Style: Choose a style that complements your wardrobe and personal fashion sense. Whether you prefer the timeless look of black pumps or the bold statement of colorful platforms, there’s a pair of heels out there for you.

Styling Tips for Heels

Heels are versatile and can be styled in numerous ways. Here are some tips to help you get the most out of your heels:

Formal Elegance: Pair stiletto heels with a cocktail dress or evening gown for a sophisticated and elegant look. Opt for neutral colors like black, nude, or metallic to match various outfits.

Casual Chic: Block heels or wedges can be paired with jeans, skirts, or casual dresses for a chic yet comfortable outfit. Add a statement top or accessories to elevate the look.

Workwear: Kitten heels are perfect for the office, offering a professional look without sacrificing comfort. Pair them with tailored pants, skirts, or dresses for a polished ensemble.

Bold Statements: Don’t be afraid to experiment with bold colors and patterns. A pair of red heels or animal print platforms can add a fun and fashionable twist to your outfit.

Seasonal Styles: Adapt your heels to the season. Wedge sandals are great for summer, while leather or suede pumps are perfect for the colder months.

Why Choose Bash

At Bash, we pride ourselves on offering a diverse range of high-quality heels for women. Our collection includes everything from elegant stilettos to comfortable block heels, ensuring you find the perfect pair for any occasion. Explore our heels for women to discover your next essential footwear.

In conclusion, finding the perfect heels involves considering comfort, heel height, occasion, material, and style. By understanding these factors and experimenting with different looks, you can find heels that not only feel great but also enhance your personal style. Visit Bash to explore our latest collection and step into confidence and elegance with the perfect pair of heels.

[zumpietoo]

Actually, he's at an Armani event as a plus one, so OFC he is. Not his clothes, Cole's outfit at the post-wedding beach party (a casual, private affair) has been fully discussed...

Silly/janASS apparently gets verryyyyy upset when you burst her bubble. I don't think ANY PPstan should ever bag on any other woman's hair....kinda like when they bag on "catalog models", while SlaveTay was an onlyfans prostitute....

Again, sure we'd be "happy with wedding content forever"---tho Cole's been doing other stuff.....but at least not looking to faux power couple/call the paps to scab/etc...

PP didn't even go to any actual film festival stuff, just Armani Junior shit....so not seeing how it's remotely impressive. As I reflect, further telling how Dylan didn't even join his new wife at it and she's a higher tier Armani actual model. Cuz it's dick.

And yes, dude, Cole has "projects".....fail....

Also, I have no idea who this anon is/was, so how do they know what the education level is? AND....how would an opinion about clothes worn by a plus one = intelligence/education?

Duuuuddeee.....faiiilllll....

I'm really moar and moar convinced Silly is a Rethuglican, because she's obsessively addicted to "anecdotal evidence". I'll admit that's A bad shot (Cole otherwise looked scrumptious that same nite), it's also from like a year, two years ago? Movie wasn't a flop, we have tons of actual evidence to the contrary, as well as citing of the bizarro strategies of pulling projects to avoid having to pay moar----it's precisely one of the planks in SAG/AFTRA's strike platform!

I'll even agree, honestly? Don't always love how Sean dresses Cole (and hate how he dresses Haley Lu, moar often than not)----buutt we've seen no shortage of pics of PP looking like pure shit on the red carpet, so, again, fail...

That said....I give you, Sweatboi:

and PP failing Spanx

(and needs to pee???)

Actually, shirt's too tight

There's the greasy/sweateeee

again, too tight on the fatty....

Again, shirt's waaayyy too tight, on his better look....

Umm......Once again, a scab project for your cult/doing an event while that's all you have...I love how none of you can fathom there's a STRIKE....it's as if you think scabbing's fab...

Again, Cole's doing photography and all kinds of other shit, while remaining in compliance with the strike (something PP skirts).

Melted was at NYFW, something PP wasn't and Cari were prioritizing friends and family....again, do you understand how the strike works?

If KokeJ does do Xtian movies (the one he did over 3 years ago flopped and he's way less appealing to that venue now)

Lisa Frankenstein will be a successful theatrical, something, again, NONE of the other Riverdalians have been able to lead...

Oh Silly, clearly it was....you felt compelled to dig into the wayback machine and you're already pissed that I called you on lying about my personal life....

Oh and are feeling butthurt cuz PP's wasted, bloated, botoxed and pooping her diaper...