#yellow-embroidered-fabric

[degournay]

https://degournay.com/- Get the best hand-painted mural with plum blossom wallpaper at an affordable price.

[schadenfreudich]

Okay, surprisingly the mockup fits quite nicely. I just have to put the waistline higher, which is to be expected, I am significantly shorter than most men.

I was expecting there to be more problems than shortening it by 7cm. I haven't done the sleeves yet, but that's probably quite similar.

Incredible. I somehow didn't realize the skirt part of this coat was almost an entire circle skirt until Wolfgang pointed it out because I complained about the amount of fabric. One huge part of the skirt pattern was literally laying on my bed for most of the time.

[shortnotsweet]

This technically applies to my Stepmother AU in which Alicent is around six years older than Rhaenyra, and occupies a wicked stepmother role as opposed to ex ‘friends-to-first loves-to-enemies’. Despite lacking the foundation of shared girlhood, both find simultaneous comfort and rivalry in one another, and undergo a gravitational pull. A young Rhaenyra’s eagerness to participate in swordplay and political affairs at a young is accommodated for, and she grows up with a sword in one hand and the weight of experience in another, which further helps pave her way to the throne.

Alicent’s Costuming

Alicent’s clothing is almost entirely bottle, emerald, or forest green. While there is layering present in her skirts and jackets, the accent should always be a darker green than the base color. The fabric is deep, rich, and retains an undeniably high-quality luster. Look to velvets and silks. Gold embroidery lingers around her sleeves, neck, and hemline to elevate the coloring.

Metallic embellishments should be almost military-like, and appear heavy. Contribute to the imagery of chains or shackles in addition to her status

Draws inspiration from historically accurate stiffness and Victorian shapes, with a tapered waist, imposing, puffy sleeves, and a high neckline. Despite inaccuracies, this shape is evocative of someone elegantly and conservatively feminine, repressed, and capable of exerting power over others. Reference a classic, trussed hourglass shape. Skirts should be notably heavy and full; may make noise in movement

The coloring and shapes remain relatively consistent but lack variation; this is to demonstrate a lack of freedom and exploration, as well as an adherence to conventional feminine roles

Despite these limitations, her costuming should always be put-together, coordinated, and unquestionably fashionable. Tight sleeve cuffs may be accompanied by a more traditionally medieval fan sleeve

Shoes should stick mostly to slippers, or flat designs

In this AU, her hair leans more towards a dark brown instead of auburn, as her show counterpart. This is mostly due to faux-book accuracy and to simplify the sketch process, since keeping her hair darker in comparison to Rhaenyra’s lighter hair translates more easily in uncolored renderings.

Keep her hair either in a tidy bun or pulled back and loose; avoid too many intricate shapes, braids, or styles. Occasionally, the hair will hang loose. Lean into medieval or royal headpieces, clips, coverings, etc.

Rhaenyra’s Costuming

Rhaenyra’s clothes are primarily black and red, occasionally accented or substituted with neutrals such as beige, white, or gray. Exceptions may include blue or yellow, but she generally stays in this color palette.

Strong focus is drawn to her shoulders and neckline, sometimes with embroidered or embellished detailing. She often has strong, angular shoulders in her dresses or jackets, occasionally theatrically pointed. Off-the shoulder necklines emphasize her collarbones and a certain broadness.

There should be decent variety in her clothing; there is a hypothetical outfit for every occasion and more (for battle, for riding, everyday, formal, feasts, everyday, etc.), and most should be composed of multiple pieces and utilize generous layering. This includes under-fabric, belts and corsets, jackets and doublets, draped fabric for aesthetic purpose, and even functional capes.

Most of her clothes should provide visual aid for movement; additional fabric to her skirts, for example. Her clothes should be highly stylized but still easy to move in. In riding and battle gear, it is presumed that she wears pants and boots under her skirts, even if they are not visible.

Shoes lean more into boot cuts, still practical but should have a sleek and uniform quality to them. When she walks, she should make some kind of noise. Shoes should usually be black or potentially red, the latter for decorative purposes.

Overall her style should be more contemporary and lean into the fantasy element. She’s not opposed to oriental details or showing skin, and her costumes should reflect both couture-height drama and period-reliant aspects. Longer lines and diagonal hems mean she is not as devoted to an hourglass shape, and her high collars should always be decorative in some respect.

Keep her hair long and mostly loose, sometimes pulled back. Small braids should be implied as incorporated. Occasional hairstyles feature complicated braids. With the exception of highly decorative braided styles, simple buns should be avoided unless accompanied with very high necklines.

Avoid headpieces that are not either a) her crown or b) ceremonial.

[interstellarflare]

A Cinderella Story || Anthony Bridgerton

-PART THREE-

Summary: Have courage, and be kind. Words that you tried to live by ever since the passing of your parents. Though your step-mother and step-sisters did everything in their power to hide you and your status away from the rest of the Ton, you never expected to catch the eye of Viscount Anthony Bridgerton himself.

Authors Note: This is my first Bridgerton series! I had an absolute ball writing this, and I hope you enjoy it! There is a tag list open if anyone wishes to be kept updated for future parts. Gif by @greengableslover

|PART ONE| |PART TWO|

The house was in shambles.

Mary had thrown almost every single dress she had bought on her bedroom floor, crying loudly that she ‘simply had nothing to wear’. Though you tried to reassure her that she in fact did, and that she would eventually find something that would make her stand out amongst the other debutants tonight, she didn’t believe you.

“This is all so hopeless!” She shouted sadly, tears streaming down her cheeks as she threw a deep purple dress across the room, the embroidered fabric smacking you in the face in its flight path to her dresser. You grimaced, shaking your head and brushing your hair from your face as you sighed lightly. “It’s not hopeless, I promise…” you tried to soothe as Mary continued to ball her eyes out “what about that light blue one you tried in earlier? That was very beautiful?”

“No! I cannot wear that! I hear Eloise Bridgerton is wearing a similar colour, and I will not be compared to her…” Mary squealed in protest, throwing another expensive dress across the room, a flash of yellow and gold “I am far better, and prettier!”.

Your shoulders slumped in defeat, your patience wearing thin as you picked up the numerous clumps of fabric scattered around the room. There was really nothing you could do except try to comfort her during her meltdown, whilst trying to keep your own head. As you began to lay the dresses out on Mary’s bed once more one by one, there was a faint knock at her bedroom door.

You lifted your head, spying Elizabeth standing in the doorway shyly as she fiddled with her hands in front of her. “If you aren’t too busy, I require some help in choosing a dress as well” She spoke softly, before disappearing back down the hallway just as quickly as she appeared. Pressing your lips together in a thin line, you hummed a short reply, turning your gaze back to Mary who once again descended into hysterics.

“Go! Leave me alone, I shall die of embarrassment now that I have nothing but these rags to choose from!” She exclaimed, dramatically collapsing onto her side and covering herself with her bed covers, beginning to sob loudly as she buried her head into her pillow. You glowered down at her, a small sense of jealousy and envy forming in your chest. Had your situation been different, you would have loved to have such a selection of beautiful clothes. Your father always bought you some of the nicest things on his travels abroad, whether they be small trinkets or delicately made clothes.

A sense of sadness and guilt replaced that feeling of jealousy and envy. You missed your father terribly, but you felt guilty for feeling this way. You weren’t entirely sure why, but as you left Mary’s room and made your way to Elizabeth’s, you decided that you could reminisce about your family later.

Upon entering Elizabeth’s bedroom, you almost gasped audibly in relief. Her room was completely tidy, unlike the previous monstrosity you had just left. There were three dresses splayed out on her bed. The one on the left was a pale light green, adorned completely in a delicate floral lace pattern that descended all the way to the floor with matching white satin gloves. The one in the middle was a deep royal blue satin, completely unadorned except for a white bejewelled belt underneath the bust. And the one on the right was a beautiful light pink, adorned in a delicate white floral lace which fanned out slightly below the end of the dress. Parts of the lace were adorned in small white pearls, which no doubt would have made the dress incredibly valuable…and eye-wateringly expensive.

Elizabeth looked up at you shyly, brushing her auburn hair from her shoulder as she sighed heavily. “I…I need your help deciding what one I should wear…” She spoke softly, her eyes falling back to the bed as she stuttered “I don’t want to look too desperate…but I also want to look pretty enough to attract his attention away from the others…”

You raised an eyebrow questioningly as you closed the door behind you, leaning against the white panel with a confused expression. “Who are you trying to impress?” You asked kindly, tilting your head to the side as you waited for her response. Elizabeth’s gaze met yours, and a bright blush formed on her cheeks as she shifted her position on her bed. “I…it’s Lord Burton. We met late last season, before it’s end actually. He was incredibly sweet, he took interest in my writings, and we have a shared passion for theatre…but his attention was drawn to one of the Lady Featherington’s daughters…”

You could see the sadness forming on her face as she began to idly pick at her bedsheets, sighing nervously as she breathed deeply. “After embarrassing myself before Lord Bridgerton, I realised that I am truly an ignorant person…and I don’t wish to be that anymore. So I ask you, will you help me choose a dress for Lady Danbury’s ball tonight? It would…mean a lot to me if you did.”

Your head straightened and your eyes widened, a strange feeling of acceptance forming in your chest. Neither of your stepsisters had ever acted this kindly towards you before, least of all actually apologised for their behaviour. Yet here Elizabeth was, a guilty look on her face as she waited for your answer.

“If you don’t I completely understand, I haven’t exactly been the most welcoming step-sister to you-“

“The pink one” you blurted out, pushing off the door and making your way over to her side. Your reply surprised you. You should feel annoyed, furious even. After everything she and Mary had done to you, should you really have been so quick to help her? You picked up the dress and held it up before you, examining every intricate detail of the lace and the fabric. Your gaze turned back to Elizabeth, her sadness now replaced with happiness…and gratitude.

“It’s really beautiful. If Lord Burton doesn’t notice you in this…then he is a fool” You spoke kindly, extending the dress towards her as a gesture of forgiveness. Elizabeth’s eyes softened as she gently took the dress from you, smiling kindly as she spoke “I know I haven’t been the best sister, nor really a good person towards you…but thank you. Though I do have to ask, why are you always so kind? Especially to my sister and my mother?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Have courage, and be kind. It was something that my mother taught me before she passed. It means that you must always have courage to do the things you want, and to be kind to everyone you meet, no matter their treatment of you…kindness goes a long way.”

With those parting words, you left Elizabeth’s room and returned to the attic for a moment of peace. You would be back downstairs in an hour or so to Lady Worthington and her daughters get dressed, but you allowed a small smile to cross your face at Elizabeth’s kindness.

“You have been awfully distracted since you returned home, dear brother. Tell me, what is on your mind?” Benedict asked somewhat teasingly, collapsing onto the lounge beside him with a loud huff of effort.

Anthony didn’t reply. He was consumed in thought, his mind mulling over something Eloise had said after the two of them had made their escape from Lady Worthington and her daughters.

“Anthony, you truly are blind. If you look closer at someone, like really look, and see past their dress, then perhaps you will see the truth behind a well-crafted-“

“A ‘well-crafted’ what, Eloise? What are you insinuating about Lady Worthington? Perhaps, she supposedly keeping a huge secret from the ton? One that would cause scandal and outrage should news get out?”

“Well…I didn’t say it…”

She had said those words with such sarcasm and malice, that it had stuck with him for the remainder of the afternoon. Eloise hadn’t looked at him since their return home. It was so unlike her, she wouldn’t speak to anyone except Colin. Surely this entire situation didn’t have anything to do with you…did it?

“Hello? Anthony…are you there?”

“Hm?” The Viscount asked, eyes blown wide as he eventually realised that he was not alone in the parlour room. Benedict laughed, lightly punching his brother’s shoulder as he rolled his eyes.

“What is going on with you? You’ve been very quiet since your return home, and Eloise is in a right mood-“

“If you’re here to bother me, it’s working” Anthony grumbled, shifting his position to rest his chin in the palm of his hand. He heard Benedict chuckle loudly, the sound echoing across the room.

“No, I would never do that!” Benedict mused offendedly, leaning closer to his brother and speaking in a more hushed tone. “Buuut…what happened between the two of you? I don’t think I’ve ever seen the two of you this mad at each other-“

“It’s really none of your concern…” Anthony snapped, now turning to face his brother with a stern glare “…I’m not really sure if I know if it’s any of my concern”.

“Right, I won’t ask. But I suggest you make amends, otherwise the ball tonight will go very poorly…” Benedict mused informatively before an amused chuckled escaped him “…well, it will go poorly for you. I myself will enjoy your misfortune-“

“You’re such a child” Anthony scowled, becoming more annoyed by his brother’s presence by the second.

Benedict smiled sarcastically, “I know”.

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[hypnogold]

Maple Heights 1: The beginning

In the quiet suburban enclave of Maple Heights, everything seemed to have its place. The two-story homes, with their neatly trimmed hedges and spotless driveways, lined the streets in perfect symmetry. It was the kind of neighborhood where everyone waved hello, the lawns were always green, and the local church bells rang every Sunday without fail. Families gathered in the evenings for barbecues, the kids played soccer in the park, and the routine felt timeless.

But recently, something strange had started to creep into Maple Heights. It began with subtle changes that no one could quite put their finger on at first—little things, like men in the neighborhood who began dressing differently, speaking in more structured, rigid ways. Then, almost overnight, more and more of the men started showing up in identical black Fred Perry polos, each one with distinctive yellow details—a thin stripe running along the collar and cuffs, and the iconic laurel wreath logo embroidered on the chest. These weren't ordinary polos, though. The fabric had a glossy sheen to it, almost rubbery or latex-like, and they were always worn with the top button fastened tight.

The Evans family had been living in Maple Heights for a decade now. Paul and Greg, a married couple raising their three sons—Luke, 24; Michael, 22; and Tyler, 20—had chosen this neighborhood for its peaceful atmosphere and sense of community. Paul worked from home as a software engineer, while Greg ran the local bakery that everyone in town loved. The boys were a lively bunch, each with their own interests—Luke was the athlete, excelling in soccer; Michael spent his time writing music and drawing in his sketchbook; and Tyler, the tech whiz, could be found in his room building gadgets from parts he scavenged at local sales.

Their lives had always been filled with laughter and activity. Weekends meant cookouts in the backyard, bike rides around the block, and movie nights with popcorn on the couch. Church wasn’t a big part of their routine, but every Sunday, Greg made it a tradition to bake fresh pastries and drop them off at the church before opening the bakery. It was his way of staying connected with the community, even if they weren’t particularly religious.

But lately, both Paul and Greg had started noticing changes in the neighborhood, especially among the men. It started with Mr. Anderson, two doors down. He had always been friendly—waving to Greg every morning as he walked his dog past the bakery. But now, Mr. Anderson was different. His usual flannel shirts and casual jackets had been replaced by a sleek black Fred Perry polo with yellow details. Even stranger, the fabric seemed almost rubbery, the way it caught the light. And the way he buttoned it all the way to the top, stiffly and neatly—it made him look more formal than usual. His conversation was short, stilted, and somehow… off.

One evening, as the family gathered around the dinner table, Paul brought it up. “Has anyone else noticed how people around here are dressing differently?”

“Yeah,” Luke said with a frown. “A bunch of guys at soccer practice started wearing those weird black polos. I mean, they look cool, but... everyone’s wearing them, like, every day now.”

“They’re Fred Perry shirts, right? But they look... shiny,” Michael added, tapping his fingers against the table in thought. “And they all button them up to the top. It’s kinda weird, like they’re in some sort of uniform.”

“It’s not just the shirts,” Greg chimed in, shaking his head. “People are acting strange, too. Customers at the bakery used to chat, laugh, but now they come in, order the same thing, and barely make eye contact. They’re so... focused.”

Tyler, the youngest, leaned forward, eyes wide with curiosity. “I saw a bunch of them after church last week. They were all wearing those black polos. I thought maybe it was some church thing.”

Paul and Greg exchanged a concerned glance. “It’s like some sort of group,” Paul said, lowering his voice. “They’re all starting to look and act the same.”

Over the next few weeks, the changes in the neighborhood became more noticeable. More men—fathers, teachers, even some of the older teens—were now dressing in the same glossy black Fred Perry polos, the yellow details standing out sharply against the dark fabric. Each man wore his polo the same way, with the buttons done all the way up to the top, giving them a sleek, almost uniformed appearance. Even their mannerisms had changed—conversations were short, their expressions calm, almost vacant.

Luke noticed it most on his soccer team. At first, it was just a couple of the players who showed up to practice wearing the polos. But soon, half the team had swapped out their jerseys for the slick, rubbery Fred Perry shirts. And once they did, their personalities shifted. They became more focused, more intense, and eerily synchronized. Luke, who still wore his usual soccer gear, felt out of place. His teammates, now all dressed in the black polos with their yellow accents, would glance at him with strange looks, as if waiting for him to join them.

“I’m not wearing one of those,” Luke said to his dads one night, slumping down on the couch. “They’re all acting weird, like they’re in some kind of club. And the coach is in on it, too. He wore one at the last game.”

“I’ve seen the same thing with my friends,” Michael added. “They’re always wearing those shirts now, and it’s like they don’t talk about anything else. It’s not like them.”

Greg sighed, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Even the customers at the bakery... I’ve noticed more of them wearing the polos. They don’t smile, they just take their coffee and leave. And today, one of them asked if I wanted to come to some gathering after church this Sunday.”

“That’s the second time we’ve heard about that,” Paul said, frowning. “Tyler, you said you saw them after church too, right?”

Tyler nodded, his eyes wide. “Yeah, they were all standing around talking after the service. But they weren’t really talking like normal. It was like they were all... rehearsed.”

Greg shivered. “I don’t like this.”

That Sunday, Paul decided to see for himself what was going on. After the church service, while Greg was delivering his pastries, Paul slipped into the side area of the church where the men were gathering. As he stood at the back of the room, he watched them closely. Every man was dressed in the same black Fred Perry polo, the yellow details gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Their shirts were perfectly buttoned up to the top, their expressions calm and focused as they listened to the man leading the meeting. His polo looked newer, glossier than the others, and his voice was firm but soothing as he talked about the “importance of unity” and “the future of Maple Heights.”

It was more than just a social group. This was something bigger, something that was spreading.

When Paul got home, he told Greg everything. “It’s not just the shirts,” he said, pacing the living room. “It’s like they’re all part of some bigger plan. They’re getting more men to join them. It’s like the whole neighborhood is changing.”

Over the next few weeks, the transformation continued to spread. Luke’s soccer team was almost fully converted, the boys showing up to practice in their glossy Fred Perry polos, barely speaking to anyone who wasn’t wearing one. Michael’s friends had stopped hanging out altogether, and whenever he saw them, they were dressed in the same shirts, their conversations short and emotionless. Even Tyler’s teachers had begun to show up to class wearing the same outfits.

One afternoon, Greg came home from the bakery with a tight look on his face. He held up a Fred Perry polo—glossy black with the yellow logo and details—and tossed it on the kitchen table.

“They gave this to me today,” Greg said quietly. “They said it’s time for me to ‘fit in.’”

Paul stared at the shirt, his stomach twisting. “We need to figure out what’s really going on, before it’s too late.”

But deep down, they knew it was already spreading faster than they could stop it. Maple Heights was changing, and it wouldn’t be long before the entire neighborhood was transformed, one slick black polo at a time.

The next week...

Luke stood on the edge of the soccer field, his cleats digging into the grass as he stared out at his teammates, all of whom were already dressed in their glossy black Fred Perry polos. Their yellow-detailed collars were buttoned up tightly to the top, and the sheen of the shirts gleamed unnaturally in the late afternoon sun. He shifted uncomfortably in his old practice jersey, the only one left who hadn’t made the switch.

Over the past few weeks, more and more of his teammates had started showing up to practice in the strange uniforms. At first, it was just a few of the guys, but now, every single one of them wore the latex-like black polo. Coach had been pushing them harder too, but in a way that was unnerving. The drills were more intense, more synchronized. The team barely spoke to each other anymore, their conversations replaced by curt instructions and short exchanges.

Luke felt the pressure mounting every time he stepped onto the field. He knew the others noticed that he was the last one holding out. His friends, or who they used to be, barely made eye contact with him anymore. They’d glance his way with strange, expectant looks, as if waiting for him to join them, to give in.

As practice started, Luke could feel the weight of their eyes on him. He jogged through the drills, but something felt wrong. The usual energy of the game was gone, replaced by an eerie, robotic efficiency. His teammates moved in perfect unison, their movements mechanical, their expressions blank but focused. And all the while, Luke couldn’t shake the feeling that they were watching him—waiting for him to fall in line.

“Luke!” Coach’s voice boomed across the field, pulling him from his thoughts. “Come here.”

Luke jogged over, his heart pounding. Coach stood on the sidelines, his own black Fred Perry polo perfectly buttoned, the yellow details gleaming in the sun. He had been wearing the shirt for a few weeks now, and ever since then, practice had felt more like a drill session than a sport. The coach’s eyes locked onto Luke’s, calm but intense.

“You’re the last one,” Coach said, not unkindly, but with a firmness that sent a chill down Luke’s spine.

Luke glanced at his teammates, all of them standing in formation, watching silently. “Coach, I’m just not sure about the mask. I don’t really feel like I need to wear it,” Luke said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Coach smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s not about the mask, Luke. It’s about unity. The team needs to be united—on and off the field. You’ve seen how well we’ve been playing lately. We’re stronger, more focused.”

Luke shifted uncomfortably, glancing back at his teammates, all eerily still, waiting. He didn’t want to admit it, but there had been something different about their games recently. They were winning, dominating even. But it didn’t feel like a team anymore—it felt like something else, something controlled.

“I just don’t think it’s for me, Coach,” Luke said, though his voice faltered. The pressure was mounting, and deep down, he knew he couldn’t hold out much longer.

Coach’s smile faded, replaced by a look of quiet authority. “It’s time, Luke. You don’t have a choice anymore.”

Before Luke could respond, one of his teammates stepped forward, holding out a neatly folded black Fred Perry polo, the yellow details catching the light. Luke stared at the shirt, his stomach turning. The fabric looked slick, shiny, almost alive, and the thought of putting it on made his skin crawl.

The teammate, a boy who had once been Luke’s best friend, met his gaze, his expression blank but somehow expectant. “Come on, man,” he said softly, his voice calm but emotionless. “It’s just a shirt.”

But it wasn’t just a shirt, and Luke knew it. It was something more. The moment he put it on, he would no longer be himself. He would become just like them—another piece of the machine.

Luke stood frozen, his mind racing. He thought of his family, of his dads and his brothers, and how hard they were trying to resist the changes sweeping through the neighborhood. He didn’t want to give in, but here, on the field, surrounded by his teammates and Coach, he realized he was alone. There was no escape.

Coach stepped forward, his hand resting heavily on Luke’s shoulder. “You’re part of this team, Luke. You need to be like the rest of us.”

Luke swallowed hard, his throat dry. He reached out, his hand shaking slightly as he took the shirt from his teammate. The fabric felt slick and cold against his fingers, heavier than he expected. His mind screamed at him to stop, to throw the shirt away and run, but his body didn’t listen.

Slowly, he pulled the black Fred Perry polo over his head. The latex-like fabric clung to his skin, tightening around him as if it had a will of its own. He adjusted the yellow-detailed collar, his fingers trembling as he buttoned it all the way to the top. The moment the last button clicked into place, a strange warmth spread through him, and his thoughts began to blur.

His mind felt foggy, distant. The resistance he had clung to for so long started to slip away. His shoulders relaxed, and for the first time, he looked at his teammates not with fear or hesitation, but with calm acceptance. The shirt fit perfectly, and for a moment, Luke wondered why he had ever resisted in the first place.

Coach smiled, patting him on the back. “Good. Now you’re part of the team, put this on.”

Luke nodded slowly, his mind quiet. He took his place among his teammates, their faces no longer strange or unsettling, but familiar—like they had always been. The game started again, and this time, Luke moved with them in perfect unison, every step, every movement synchronized.

As the sun set over the soccer field, the last of Luke’s resistance faded into the background, replaced by the quiet calm of uniformity. He was no longer an outsider. He was one of them now.

After practice, Luke walked home in silence, the cool evening air brushing against his face. His mind felt strangely still, as if the buzzing thoughts he had carried all day had finally quieted. The black Fred Perry polo with its glossy sheen and yellow details clung snugly to his body, and the weight of it no longer felt strange—it felt… right. The top button was fastened tight, and though he had been uncomfortable with it at first, now it felt natural, like it was exactly where it should be.

Luke walked home from practice, the full-face rubber gas mask still tightly fitted over his head. The dark, glossy material gleamed faintly under the streetlights as he passed through the quiet, suburban streets of Maple Heights. The once-familiar neighborhood now felt distant, his breathing slow and controlled through the mask’s filters, muffling the sounds around him.

His black Fred Perry polo, with its yellow details and buttoned-up collar, clung to him as he walked, the rubber of the mask and the shirt making him feel as though he was locked into something permanent. Each step felt heavy, yet he was calm. His mind was quiet now, his thoughts no longer his own.

As he approached his house, he saw the warm glow of the kitchen lights through the window. For a moment, something stirred inside him—an echo of the boy he used to be, the Luke who would come home to his dads, joke with his brothers, and feel like himself. But the mask pressed firmly against his face, silencing those thoughts. He reached for the door, knowing they would see him like this.

When he stepped inside, the familiar warmth of home hit him, but it felt different. His dads, Greg and Paul, turned from the kitchen counter, their faces going pale as they saw him standing there, dressed in the glossy black polo and the full-face rubber mask.

“Luke?” Greg’s voice was filled with shock and concern, but Luke didn’t respond. He simply stood there, the mask concealing any expression, the filters hissing softly with each breath.

Paul stepped forward, his voice shaky. “Take it off, son. You don’t have to wear that.”

But Luke didn’t move. The mask stayed on, its grip on him firm, the strange calm washing over him once again. He was home, but he wasn’t the same anymore. And as his dads stared at him in disbelief, Luke knew that the boy they once knew was slipping away.

[skygoldart]

Cod Grian Cosplay Build!

The fish man himself, season 10 Grian!

Reference Sketch

Some notes:

I always end up changing somethings from the reference when making the actual outfit, although I stayed pretty close it it this time.

I initially drew him with a handlebar mustache and goatee to mimic the whiskers of a fish, however I switched to a fluffier mustache beard to match the guy from Frozen.

I also opted for my turtleneck shirt over the red sweater+collar to go for more of a fisherman vibe

Since Grian is usually drawn with parrot wings, I wanted to call back to that with red yellow and blue feathers on the bobbers.

The tail and fins

I wanted to lean into the “fish”er man design and gave him fish fins and a tail.

It’s design is based on a cod fish with striped fins based on the feathers of an osprey

To make it, I drew the tail pattern on a large piece of paper, cut it out, cut each section out of the respective fabric times two, sewed the two sides together, and lastly filled it with a ton stuffing.

The tail is heavy, but it’s fun to wack people with it.

The fins for the arms and beanie are made in a similar way, each hand sewn onto the beanie/bracers once stuffed.

The Overalls

I had originally planned for him to be wearing waders, but wanted to make the outfit more wearable for everyday wear without overheating. So I opted for some brown corduroy overalls instead.

To add a “wet” look to each pant leg, I briefly dipped each one into some black fabric dye before rinsing and drying.

The green pixels on his skin look like they could be kelp or patches so I decided to go with the latter and dug through my scrap fabric to find these green pieces.

I embroidered the edge of each piece with a unique stitch and placed them randomly on each leg.

The snails!

Of course we can’t forget about the snails

There are three snails for this project with two more eventually on the way (a plush pink snail, and a plush brown snail).

I made the clay blue snail first with polymer and attached tie tacks to the underside so I can use it like a pin and stick it anywhere on my clothes.

Same goes for the pink worm snail which is also made of clay.

The blue plush snail is based on a pattern from Etsy by willowynn with some slight modifications, mainly to the eyes/feelers, and doubling the size.

Facial hair

This was one of the parts I was the most excited about for this cosplay and the only part I didn’t do myself. I commissioned @basic-amoeba to make a custom ventilated beard, styled and everything. This part turned out so good!

Some final notes for this project

This cosplay took from Feb 20 to March 15th to complete since I was so determined to finish it before Grian changed his skin. Haha look at me now. He still hasn’t changed it.

Not pictured (cause why can I only add 10 photos 😭) is the mending book with a fish hook I made using scrap faux leather, cardboard, and some cut printer paper. I painted in galactic the word mending and sprayed the whole thing in my “enchanting” spray paint (a blue to purple iridescent glitter spray paint)

A small fun backstory to the fishing rod:

My grandpa is an experienced fisherman and has dozens of fishing poles. When I talked about this project with him, he brought me out to his workshop and pulled down the dustiest fishing rod there. He told me he had fished this fishing rod from a lake one day with the line and bait still attached. Can’t get anymore accurate to Minecraft fishing than that lol.

Obligatory cosplay photo:

[tj-crochets]

Second Creature eye is sewn on, but alien might be delayed a little bit because I just found out one of my dad's best friends has a new grandkid born like a month ago and he didn't tell me! It's baby quilt time

Thanks everybody for helping me crowdsource executive function (aka voting on my "what to make next" poll) yesterday! Today's crafting goals (based on the votes) are: - finish sewing on the second Creature eye - start working on making an alien pattern to use with the starry eyes - try not to spend all my time working on the puzzle

[odoraful]

𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄

during a gathering for the maisons in the court of fontaine, the newlywedded couple retire early to spend time at home together

⟡ content: neuvilette x fem!reader; introvert x introvert; calling each other husband and wife and other cute nicknames; reader saving neuvilette from social burnout; lots of kissing; very fluffy; possibly ooc neuvilette (still figuring out how to write him!)—he's much more open with his affections around reader; 2.4k words

⟡ a/n: craving some married couple dynamics and i thought neuvi was a perfect candidate for this :') i haven't written in almost a month so pardon my rustiness </3

━━━━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━━━━

“It’s not like you to zone out Monsieur Neuvilette.”

Neuvilette’s gaze snapped back to the person in front of him—bemusement on their face. Whilst many others would have let their sheepishness show at being caught, Neuvilette’s features never faltered, returning a sensible smile.

He was conversing with someone from the Maison Cardinalice named Aimon. In fact, there were people from all four Maisons here at the ball. It was a semi-regular gathering held to promote friendly relations between the factions of the Court. Neuvilette believed he had a good grasp of the intricacies of political small talk among these events. The talks were cordial and productive, and he made his due diligence to circle the foyer of the Opera Epiclese enough times to be introduced, and reintroduced, to interested parties. However, mid-way through these rounds, he found that the ornament woven in his hair felt heavier than usual, and his thick robes seemed to drag his body down with each conversation he entered and left. Despite this, he maintained his composure. He had a role to fulfil after all.

“My apologies, I was simply taken by the view here.”

He glanced out again past the open doors of the Opera Epiclese.

White light of the foyer’s interior flooded into the darkness of the night, causing the streams of water in the Fountain of Lucine to shimmer like crystals. Near the doors, some members of the ball had taken to conversing in the cool night air.

The representative from the Cardinalice shook their head in astonishment.

“Even after all your time here, you still find such novelty in the landmarks of the city,” they sighed.

Turning to follow where Neuvilette had been looking, they tried to discern what beauty he saw in this place that they passed almost every day. Realisation hit them almost immediately at what, or rather who, had distracted the Iudex.

One of the people who had taken respite in the open night air was you.

It was hard for one to take their eyes away at the figure draped in gold fabric, hugging their body just so. The ruffled hem of the dress was long enough to hit the floor, leaving a small train of what appeared to be molten gold in the trick of the light. Carefully embroidered vines and leaves in yellow thread trailed from the bodice to the skirt. Tulle-like material lined the sweetheart neck, showcasing the pearl necklace at your collarbones and extending to drape delicately past the curves of the shoulders.

You were in the company of some of the gestionnaires from the Palais Mermonia, listening attentively. Your covered your mouth with a hand, laughing at something being said. Neuvilette could imagine the lilt of your voice as you spoke with the others around you.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Aimon began, “how fares the move for Fontaine’s newly wed couple?”

Neuvilette hummed, a low timbre brimming with affection.

He was not one to announce personal affairs, but no amount of privacy could prevent the news of the Chief Justice getting married from going public. Of course, the people of Fontaine were captivated by the romantic story of someone finally catching the eye of the “solitary workaholic” (as many of the news articles released described him to be). It sounded exactly like something out of a play. Quietly, he enjoyed when people brought it up in conversation, since it gave him a chance to talk about you, after all. He loved the way the title rolled off his tongue when he called you his wife.

“My wife and I have been settling into our new home well,” he replied, revitalised by the change of topic. “We have finished with all our furnishings-”

“Ah!” the exclamation from Aimon almost made him jump. “Monsieur, I must introduce you to the latest addition to our Maison. I think you would quite like him.”

They flapped their hand at someone from outside, gesturing them to come in.

More introductions. Inwardly, Neuvilette sighed, though there was only politeness shown on his face.

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Unbeknownst to Neuvilette, his weariness had begun to manifest in the sky above. What had been a clear night had now turned overcast. Dense clouds obscured the moon. The people around you looked curiously at the sky.

“How fickle the weather can be,” someone tutted.

You knew that such a sudden change could only mean one thing.

Rather than look to the sky, your eyes instead sought your husband. At the entrance of the Opera, you could see Neuvilette speaking with two others, his silhouette back lit by light. Excusing yourself from the people you were with, you lifted the hem of your skirt and walked briskly over. The voice of Aimon grew louder as you drew nearer. You paid half an ear to their discussion, your attention directed at Neuvilette’s rigid posture and passive expression.

His senses tingled as you approached his side. The delicate sweetness of your perfume comforted him. After admiring you from a distance for much of the ball, his lips now parted seeing you up close. Even with how long you have spent with each other, he became more enamoured by you with every passing day.

“Apologies for my interruption.”

Your words cut through the conversation, immediately quietening Aimon. You lay a hand on Neuvilette, squeezing his shoulder lightly. You felt his body ease under your touch.

“But may I speak to my husband?”

“Mademoiselle.” Aimon tipped his head in greeting. “Why of course. We will take out leave.”

You curtsied in thanks, watching as the two Cardinalice members hurried away further into the foyer.

Neuvilette’s hand hovered over your waist. Momentarily, he thought about pulling you close, until he could trace every thread of the embroidered pattern on your bodice under his fingertips and memorise its shape. It pained him to resist an action like this, but he was a gentleman, and it would be improper to do something like that in a public space. Instead, he subtly gestured towards the edge of the room as a place to talk without, hopefully, being interrupted.

“My dear, is everything alright?”

The concern on his face melted your heart.

“Everything is quite alright with me, but I’m not sure I can say the same for you.”

You covered the side of your mouth that could be viewed by others. “It’s okay if you’re tired of this ball,” you whispered.

His face fell to relief that something bad had not happened to you.

“Thank you for your concern, dear, but as head of the Ordalie, it is my duty to be here and connect with the other Maisons.” The words came out of him almost robotically, betraying the tiredness that weighed his body and pleaded for him to rest.

“It may well be, but I don’t want to see you collapsing the next time someone wants to speak to you,” you insisted.

He rubbed his temple with his finger and thumb. Neuvilette couldn’t argue with that. It was true. How good of a Chief Justice could he be if he was too exhausted to properly fulfil his duties? At the thought of leaving early, his mind wandered to how the two of you would cuddle before bed, tucked beneath the quilts, enveloped by homeliness. Maybe it was best to listen to your advice.

“Are you alright to retire for the night as well, then?” he asked.

“Archons, yes,” you blurted out. “The gestionnaires are lovely company, but if I had the choice between hearing the amount of paperwork required to replace a keycap from them again, or to return to my abode with my husband, I think my answer would hardly surprise you.”

He laughed at your candour. “I will not let you say anything untoward about the Maison Gestion for I admire their tenacity. However, even I must admit that that may not the most riveting conversation to be apart of.”

Neuvilette extended a hand out towards you.

“Shall we depart then?”

You nodded fervently. Moving to his side, you both took a turn around the foyer, saying your necessary goodbyes to the heads of the Maisons. They gave saddened responses to his early departure, but respected the couple’s wishes. Though, you and Neuvilette considered being out at a quarter-past-nine at night to already be quite late.

━━━━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━━━━

The two of you entered you home with a relieved sigh, slipping off your shoes and leaving them on the rack by the door. Though the slight clutter of your living room—pillows askew on the sofa, blankets draped on chairs, handmade ceramic trinkets dotted in spaces around the room—was far from the pristine foyer of the Opera, you much preferred it. Automatically, you and Neuvilette headed upstairs to the bedroom, wanting nothing more than to unwind for the night.

Looking at your reflection, you took your necklace and earrings off, returning them back to their velvet boxes. Behind you in the mirror, your husband’s hair began to get tangled in the clip of his feathered ornament. He let out a frustrated huff. It was certainly cute to see someone as accomplished as the Iudex have such a sulky look on his face. Wordlessly, you walked over to his side and tapped his hands away. At your signal of aid, Neuvilette sat down on the bed, allowing you to reach his head. His eyes were glued to your focused expression, how careful you were trying to be to not hurt him. Your fingers delicately removed the hair piece, and you smoothed his hair to tidy it up.

As he stood up to take off his robes, he felt your hands tug at the sleeves, helping him to undress. Neuvilette opened his mouth to protest, to tell you that you needn’t worry about him, that you should go and wash up first. Knowing your husband for so long, you sensed these words and spoke before him.

”I know being Chief Justice is an intensive role, but please don’t push yourself too hard.”

Such a gentle request from his wife almost made him fall to his knees. It was act of care that seemed magnified now that you were married. Neuvilette managed to, incredibly, maintain his balance as you worked to unbutton his vest.

“You are not an unfeeling Gardemek who can stand for hours without tumbling over,” you pouted, fumbling at his buttons.

The Chief Justice took his position seriously, sparing no feelings in a trial. It was a job needed to be done faithfully to best help the people of Fontaine. That sense of responsibility he had was something you held great pride in, but not when it took a toll on his mind and body. Especially when the emotions he held like a still body of water began to ripple and swirl behind the curtains of the courtroom.

“I will heed your words,” he nodded. “In any case, you seem to be swooping in to my rescue a few times tonight.”

You grinned. “I would gladly rescue you whenever you need, party-related or otherwise.”

Neuvilette stared fondly at his wife, slipping off his vest and folding it neatly. Perhaps it was the after effects of the honeymoon period, but the domesticity of this moment flared something inside him.

Before you could move to the closet on the opposite side of the room, he circled a hand around your waist. His touch stopping you from walking away. You cocked your head to the side, curiously.

“Truly, you have my thanks.”

Swiftly, you were pulled close to him. Neuvilette ran a fingertip along the edges of the leaves stitched onto your bodice, finally feeling each thread. You squirmed slightly—each drag of his finger leaving a tickling sensation at your waist. The composed air he maintained for most hours of the day came undone before you. Left wearing only his loose white shirt and black pants, his tousled hair fell down his back and the glow from the bedroom’s lantern reflected desire in his indigo eyes.

Leaning closer still, his warm breath caressed your face as his lips met your forehead first. The movement excruciatingly slow. Each press of his lips lingered for a second longer that you could even feel the most minute shifts in his face. Continuing, he trailed feather-like kisses down your temples.

“Mm, what’s this for?” you asked, more breathless than you anticipated.

Neuvilette hummed for a moment.

“My intentions are two fold. One-” he accentuated the word with a kiss on your cheek, “-as appreciation for helping me tonight, and two-” he placed another on the opposite side, “-as recompense for not admiring you properly at the ball.”

There was always a flutter in your stomach when he kissed you, but the way your breath caught in your throat felt like this was the very first time. He was completely lost in his affection as he moved down to your jawline and neck—soft lips meeting your quickening pulse. A small gasp escaped you at the contact, and the smile that drew across his lips was unmistakable against your skin. The folded vest slipped from your hand and crumpled on the floor. He would deal with the creases in his uniform in the morning. For now, it would make a satisfactory sacrifice for this chance to cherish you.

Grasping at Neuvilette’s shirt sleeve instead, he switched positions, cornering you on the edge of the bed. He focused his attention on the dip in your collarbone—a sensitive spot that made you shiver at the contact. The sensation was too inviting not resist. Your legs could no longer hold yourself steady, as you tumbled down to sit. Hands opposite sides of your body, your husband had subtly caged you in as he pulled away to look at your face.

“You look divine, my dear.” His voice was low, reverberating in your ears.

“As do you. Though I believe that adjective is a given-” you poked at his cheek with a finger “-for a Sovereign such as yourself.”

Red tinged his ears, an obvious contrast against his pale skin. He breathed a laugh at your comment, always quick to return a compliment to him.

The clouds had long since dissipated, showcasing the moon in its clarity. The attendants at the Opera briefly paused their chatter to once again admire the twinkling sky. A few of them sighed, commenting disappointedly how the Chief Justice and his wife had missed the splendour of the night.

━━━━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━━━━

[polo-drone-055]

The Golden Army meets The Polo Drones: Part 1

Written at the command of and in collaboration with @hypnogold

Sitting in a coffee shop looking stressed is Richard the captain of the Golden Army Football Club.

Richard calls a close confidant. His stress getting the best of him Richard is speaking loudly.

“It was worse than you can imagine.”

“No! The Silver Collective didn’t win the match. We gave it to them on their own silver platter. We weren’t united. We lacked focus. Had no energy. What’s worse is that this was predictable. I should have acted sooner.”

"Yeah, I saw the red flags. The past few weeks I noticed the Bros off the field were eating rich foods at restaurants, smoking, attending all the festivals and going to late night movies."

"They were beginning to sleep in, miss workouts, and spend more time talking about their accomplishments on the pitch than actually focusing on their drills. I used our beach outing to try and bring back discipline, unity, and ambition. Obviously it didn’t work."

"Then there is our new wingback. Christian! #55."

"I have no idea what to do with that situation."

"If most of the team is losing focus he is overly ambitious. You saw how he stayed up too often, despite my instructions, allowed space out wide for Silver to fill letting them score and losing us the match."

"Now the media and fans are out for him. The headlines are nonstop: “Christian is worthless!” “Sack #55!" “This guy is crap!” The fans throw beer, food, drinks and all sorts of stuff at him. When out about the city he is constantly cursed at."

"He feels awful and has apologized repeatedly to the Bros."

"Christian is working extra hard to refine his skills but does not seem to be improving. No matter how much I and the Bros encourage him, work with him, and give him shoulders to lean on things are not changing."

"Bro, thanks for letting me get this off my chest. You’re the best."

"No, I’m not giving up. We will rise and conquer. We are Golden strong! Later Bro!"

As Richard finishes the call a man who had been standing at the counter behind him approaches saying “Excuse me, I could not help but hear your conversation.”

Startled by the interruption Richard looks up and is taken aback by the man wearing a black Fred Perry polo with distinctive yellow details including a laurel wreath embroidered on the chest with the top button fastened. The fabric had a glossy sheen to it, almost rubbery or latex-like.

Dazed, Richard responds “What?”

“I heard your conversation and can feel your frustration. I know you are trying your hardest.”

Staring at the polo and only half listening Richard mumbles “Yeah Bro”

“Your Golden Army Club is top of the league.”

Richard nods.

While speaking the man sits down and touches Richard whose golden spiral appears in his eyes.

“Everything will work out. It will be okay.”

As Richard’s arm and gold jersey brush against the polo a warmth and peace comes over him. His golden spiral which had been dim begins to brighten.

“We can help you be more focused, more intense, more synchronized. Your mates will once again work as a team, a unit. You will not be defeated again. Feel your confidence return.”

The man moves closer so that more of the smooth slick sheen of the polo is rubbing against Richard who can’t resist running his palms over it. The feel is tantalizing.

“Yes, feel it. Feel the intensity come over you. Do you like how it feels?"

"Yeah Bro," Richard says with more focus and intensity.

"I have another one you want it?" The man holds out the polo for Richard to see.

"Feel it. Feel the strength, confidence and conviction exuding from it. Imagine possessing all those traits yourself forever."

Without hesitation Richard viciously grabs the polo and puts it on. The immediate sensation of being tightly wrapped and constricted is immense. The smooth slick surface feels both isolating and sensual.

"Oh Bro!!!!" Richard exclaims running his hands all over his torso experiencing sensations as never before. “We will improve. We will grow” His voice becoming monotone and robotic as he speaks. “We will defeat. We will improve. We will grow. We will defeat.

With every repetition Richard’s strength, confidence and conviction deepens. The gold within accepts that to be on the top, to be the best it must be more focused, more intense, more synchronized. It must unite with polo.

Totally in sync with absolute confidence and conviction of their purpose the two leave the coffee shop heading for Club Pulse where Christian is waiting.

[degournay]

https://degournay.com/product-details/standardonedohibiscuspaintedxuanpaper02/ -Get the best hand-painted wallpaper with luxury wallpaper at an affordable price.

[kogyalies]

GUIDE TO MORI KEI!! 森系

mori kei is one of the many early 2000s subcultures that originated from the harajuku district inspired by living in the woods.

wearers of this type of clothing are usually referred to as mori girl (森ガール) or mori boy (森ボーイ). basically, forest girl/boy.

this subculture is based on nature and gives off a more elven/fae feel, its main color pallet consisting of earth tones, greens, whites, and other soft colors. plaid is a pattern that occasionally appears in mori kei fits, and sometimes baby blues and pinks will appear for a contrast to an outfit.

if you want to look for some clothing that would fit with this aesthetic, look for something loose and natural, and pieces that layer well together. such as a large cardigan/sweater vest that goes well with a frilly dress/skirt and leg warmers and tights. pants may also be used for a more masculine look.

"ゆるふわ" is what the loose layers achieve, hiding the curves of the body and therefore the wearer has a "fluffy" appearance. when layering, make sure to begin with the lightest/thinest layer first, and then move on to heavier materials.

lace, light materials, and embroidered clothes are musts, while accessories such as shawls, tights, and scarfs add to the layered effect.

linen, wool, and cotton are fabrics that are often used. fabrics that drape nicely will be your bff when creating a mori kei outfit.

mori kei is actually quite similar to cottagecore, but while cottagecore is focused on a rural life, mori kei is more based on forests and nature itself.

It also expresses a love of the forest, quiet hobbies, reading, drinking tea, herbalism, and a natural lifestyle.

hair and makeup often match with the almost whimsical and natural look of the outfits. makeup is kept relatively basic, with use of colors such as beige, pinks, and golds. minimalistic igari makeup is a nice example.

DARK MORI KEI/MORI GOTH

a subcategory of mori kei is mori goth, which uses darker, less saturated colors of the usually light color scheme of mori kei. it still follows the same layering scheme and relaxed silhouette, but as of now it has separated into strega, another subculture.

YAMA KEI

a more practical subcategory, usually for fans of the outdoors who love hiking/camping. this includes brighter and more vivid colors while also reverting to more practical clothes.

HAMA KEI

hama kei is a beach-based section, with uses of lighter clothing and less layers, as well as blues and yellows. you'd also see things such as stripes, anchors, and denim to add to the sailor-like outfits

[questionable-sanity]

Sad Mu Qing thoughts:

You know how it's a common headcanon that he not only is good a sewing, but it's something that he genuinely enjoys doing?

What if, not unlike Hua Cheng's Cave of Ten Thousand Statues, Mu Qing has a huge, private wardrobe that no one knows about except for him.

This wardrobe contains thousands of grand, luxurious robes and accessories, all created by his hand. Not one of them is the same as another, and if one were to look closely, one would discover that they were clearly organized into three main sections:

One section contains robes that are not dissimilar to his own's size, but are markedly different in color and style than anything Mu Qing would wear - rich, warm browns and yellows with accents of brick reds or burnt orange. All trimmed with gleaming, brassy gold. The fabrics are fairly heavy and practical, but forgiving. The designs all seem to have careful attention to the flexibility of the shoulders. Many of them display beautiful, finely embroidered designs depicting noble dragons or a more subtle pattern reminiscent of dragon scales.

Another section contains robes that are too small to be worn by Mu Qing, and much too light in color. - rows and rows of flowy, silky fabrics, ranging from snowy white to the palest of blues, many adorned with delicate patterns of flower petals or clouds in golds and silvers. Some are simple and airy, but others are designed with long, flowing sleeves, ornate sashes, and delicate beading with underrobes offering lovely flashes of fortuitous crimson, befitting of royalty.

In perhaps the largest section, there are endless sets of robes clearly intended for a woman. One who would have been much shorter in stature than Mu Qing, but who clearly shares his penchant for dark colors and simple yet tasteful designs. Blacks, greys, and navy blues, all in the softest, most satiny materials that would feel as light as air on the skin. On close inspection, many of these would display graceful, tasteful patterns of cherry blossoms or under-robes with just the barest hint of blush or peach pinks. These robes are clearly lovingly crafted, with their seams, sashes, and accessories of the finest silver.

No one knows the centuries Mu Qing has spent crafting and preserving such lovely robes, none of them having ever been touched or worn after their creation.

And he prefers it that way, to keep this wardrobe a secret, a shrine in reverence to the most precious and grieved relationships of his past.

There, he can pour his feelings and devotion, and not be judged or rejected.

[lichilly]

"Hello there, friend."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀🌞⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

I've been playing around with the idea of Jack being the leader of the Cloudy Town cult!

The town is very picturesque and vibrant, with colorful houses, well-kept gardens, and friendly residents. The streets are always clean, and theres a perpetual atmosphere of celebration!

The Sun is revered as a life-giving deity, and to maintain the sun’s favor, periodic sacrifices are made—animals, and in most extreme cases, humans. The symbol of the Sun is a recurring motif in Cloudy Town. found on buildings, clothes, decorations, and just about everything!

Jack is a very well-loved and respected figure in Cloudy Town. He has a special connection to the Sun, often leading prayers, festivals, sacrifices, and much more!

Every morning at sunrise, Jack and the townspeople gather in the central plaza to perform a morning prayer and chant, welcoming the Sun's rise. This helps show their gratitude for the Sun's light and warmth, reinforcing their devotion while also bringing the community together in unity. At sunset, they will gather in the plaza again to pray for the Sun's return, expressing hope and trust in the Sun's cyclical nature, while also strengthening faith.

Once a month, Jack will lead a blessing ceremony, where he anoints participants with a mixture of sunflower oil and herbs under the noon sun. This purifies and bless those in need, ensuring good health and fertility.

Summer Solstice is a beloved celebration for the townsfolk. A special prayer is said at sunrise, kicking off the day with positive energy and high sprits for the special day to come. A grand feast is held at high noon, featuring grilled vegtables, fruits, and meats cooked over open flames to honor the Sun. Dishes are often infused with citrus falvors and herbs lke basil and thyme. Sun-shaped breads and cakes decorated with yellow and orange fruits are served as well, courtesy of Rory's bakery.

The kids of Cloudy Town are welcomed to join in activites like creating sun-inspired crafts and decorations. Sun masks are especially popular, created out of paper plates and decorated with markers and paint to look like the Sun.

As sunset during Summer Solstice, the townsfolk parktake in a fire dance around a large bonfire. Music is played, consiting of joyful singing and instruments. At the end of the fire dance, families will bring offerings such as wreaths, floral arrangments, and sun symbols and throw them in the fire. The smoke that billows from the bonfire will carry the offerings up the sky for the Sun to recieve.

Instead of clown costumes, the people in Cloudy Town wear lightweight, breathable fabrics like dresses, blouses, skirts, and tunics with loose-fitting trousers or shorts, which are more suitable for the sunny weather. The clothes are decorated in sun motifs, often embroidered with yellow stiching that creates beautiful sun rays and abstract swirls across the fabric. Everyone wears a sun pendant around their neck, and are often used during prayers to help feel more connected to the Sun.

In the image above you can see Jack wearing his ritual clothes—a long golden robe with a sun pendant clasping it all together. During rituals, everyone involved wears a sun-themed mask. Special rituals are held at the hidden Sun Temple in the woods by Cloudy Town and are either held at sunrise or sunset. These rituals are usually where human sacrifices are made.

The MC is on a roadtrip with their friends Shaun, Nick, and boyfriend Ian, when their van breaks down a mile or two away from Cloudy Town. With no other option and no cell service, they start to walk in search of a nearby town. After hours of walking, they stumble across Cloudy Town and are quickly welcomed with open arms and warm smiles. The group found the town eerie, far too perfect and welcoming, and is set on leaving as soon as they can. Jack assures the group that he'll get their van fixed promptly and invites them to stay in town for the night. Upon accepting his offer, Jack quickly takes a warm liking to the MC, often making subtle, flatttering remarks about the MC's radiant energy, comparing it to the Sun's radiance.

There still a lot I'm thinking over when it comes to this AU! Some of this info may change with time, but this is the main brain dumb I'm mulling over. I hope you enjoy it!

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀🌞⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

BLOOD VER. UNDER CUT

[haerenven]

Mmmm, м𝓐η 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡!

roronoa Zoro x dimitrescu!sister¡reader

Summery. reader being jealous after zoro saving Robin.

tag(s)&warning(s). Smut, insecure reader, jealousy, kinda possessive yandere

As the crew embarked on their quest to find the elusive poneglyph on Skypiea, they came across a menacing celestial dragon named Enel, who stood in their path. Enel, with his lightning powers and authoritative demeanor, posed an ominous presence before the crew.

Enel, using his devil fruit powers, was ready to unleash a devastating lightning strike aimed at both you, Zoro, and Robin. The atmosphere was charged with tension as the attack was imminent.

As Robin was in danger of being struck by Enel's lightning attack, you reacted swiftly and managed to block the attack using your sickle , preventing her from being hit. However, before she could escape, Zoro, displaying quick reflexes, grabbed her by the waist and swiftly pulled her out of harm's way. Enel's attack missed its target, and Robin escaped injury thanks to Zoro's intervention.

As you watched Zoro swiftly save Robin from Enel's attack, a pang of discomfort or jealousy might have crept into your heart. In that moment, you may not have felt entirely happy, perhaps because Zoro's protective gesture toward Robin stirred up some unexpected feelings within you.

y/n dimitrescu The irresistible charm of her divine aura radiated from her perfect feminine form, drawing attention to her alluring assets. Her larger, round breasts and firm, hardened peaks created an irresistible combination of curves and self-confidence. Her curvaceous hips swayed enticingly, and her perfectly toned, small, perfect waist was a sight to behold. There was something irresistible about every inch and detail of her physique, as her sensual allure commanded admiration, making heads turn and hearts race with desire. Her luxurious hair, a mix of honey-tea brown and Carmel-blonde, flowed like fine, downy locks down her neck bone. Her neala yellow deep eyes were alluring and enchanting. Their mesmerising charm drew you into their depths, as if capturing your attention completely. They held a warmth that was both inviting and captivating, promising mystery and allure.

She wore a sinfully tight short black dress, the tight fabric clinging to her hourglass figure. The lacework was intricately embroidered, adding a touch of delicacy to the boldness of the ensemble. The semi-sheer material gave a tantalizing hint of what lay beneath, teasing with its subtle transparency. A matching black bra hugged her full, rounded breasts, emphasizing their fullness and plumpness. Her short black panties, hidden beneath the dress's delicate hemline, barely provided any coverage for her hips.

As she froze, her eyes, darkened by smokey black eye makeup and her lips, which were outlined in black lipliner and covered in ruby red lipstick, curved into a mocking sarcastic way smirk. Her grip on her weapon, a sickle, tightened as she blocked Enel's lightning attack.

As Zoro saw her expression, he noticed her dark, large eyes grow darker, her lips curving into an unhappy smirk. His grip on Robin's waist tightened in a protective manner, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. He knew her well enough to recognize her reaction, and it wasn't quite like her usual self. He was momentarily distracted, realizing that there might be something bothering her.

Zoro couldn't ignore the subtle signs of discomfort and irritation in her expression. He knew her well enough to understand that something was not right, and it was evident in the way her expression darkened, her lips curving into a mock unhappy smirk. It was a reaction that he wasn't used to seeing from her, and it gave him a sense that something was amiss. It had to be jealousy, he thinks.

"Thank you, Zoro," Robin expressed her thanks. "Now let's bring Enel down," Robin added with determination in her voice.

Zoro released Robin, his grip loosening but his eyes not leaving her. He noticed her dark, large eyes and her curving lips into a mock unhappy smirk. He had a nagging feeling that she was jealous, but he decided to focus on the task at hand. With a nod, he replied

"Hmm." He shook off the feeling and grabbed his sword, preparing for the battle.

Zoro gripped his sword tightly, a mix of focus and concern weighing on his mind. While his attention was still divided between the approaching battle and the jealousy he believed she was feeling, he tried his best to shake it off and focus on the task at hand. However, the thought of her expression and his actions kept nagging at the back of his mind, making it difficult to completely shake off the uncertainty.

Zoro was glancing at her from the corner of his eye, noticing her unusual demeanor in combat. Her normal calm composure was replaced with anger and her eyes had grown darker, her grip on her weapon tight. She fought with a brutal intensity that Zoro hadn't seen before, and it was clear in her clenched teeth and her furious expression. It was not typical of her usual battle persona, and it only added to his unease, making him more confident that his suspicions about her jealousy were likely correct.

As Zoro continued watching her from the corner of his eye, the intensity of her fighting style struck him. She was unusually aggressive, and her eyes were dark, her clenched teeth showing her anger. It was a far cry from her usual composed demeanor in battle. He couldn't shake off the feeling that her current state was a result of his actions and the jealousy he believed she felt. His suspicion grew stronger, and he was increasingly sure that he had accidentally triggered her jealousy with his protective hold.

After the intense battle, the dust had finally settled. They had emerged victorious against the celestial dragon Enel, and the crew was now gathered together, assessing the situation. Zoro was observant of her expression, noting the way her expression grew darker, and her teeth clenched, while fighting. He couldn't disregard the intense look she had earlier. As the crew dispersed, he moved over to her side. His mind still filled with curiosity, and a tinge of uneasiness about her behavior earlier, he decided to confront her. He stood near her and glanced at her.

Zoro approached her, his eyes glancing at her, noting the aftermath of the intense battle they had just been through. He couldn't help but wonder whether she was still harboring jealousy about him holding Robin earlier. He moved closer to her side, remaining silent for a moment, his mind restless with thoughts about her earlier reaction. It took him a few moments to find the right words to start the conversation. Eventually, he cleared his throat and finally spoke, breaking the silence between them. He glanced over at her, his voice hesitant and tinged with concern., his voice tinged with concern and curiosity.

"Hey, you alright?" As Zoro spoke, his voice was tinged with concern and hints of uncertainty. It was gentle and softer than his usual stoic voice, indicating that he was trying to approach the situation delicately. His words betrayed his worry about her earlier expression and the way she had acted during the fight, which was still at the forefront of his mind.

Her eyes held a dangerous intensity gleam as she replied with a deep, dark feminine voice, "I'm alright!" resonating tone that carried a hint of warning, leaving no room for doubt about her resilience.

Zoro was taken aback by her intense and dark expression, which was filled with a warning tone in her deep, feminine voice. The words she spoke, "I'm alright!" were delivered with a warning tone that made it clear she didn't want to discuss it further. He stood there, his eyes narrowing in uncertainty. He knew she was tough and resilient, but he had a feeling this isn't just a simple issue, but he couldn't get through to her. The warning tone she used made it clear she wasn't in the mood to talk about it.

Zoro clenched his jaw slightly, his eyes narrowing as she responded with a deep and dark feminine voice, delivering her message with an intense warning tone. Her words had shut down any further discussion, leaving him with a mix of concern and frustration. He couldn't shake the sense that something was bothering her and that she didn't want to talk about it, and he wasn't sure how to get past her closed-off demeanor.

Some hours had passed and the crew had dispersed, each doing their own activities. It was late in the night, and Zoro couldn't shake off the earlier events from his mind. He had hoped the passage of time would ease his worries, but instead, it only grew harder and harder for him to ignore. It only made him more conflicted and curious. After some time, Zoro, unable to bear the silence anymore, decided to try and seek her out.

Zoro navigated through the ship, his mind still occupied with thoughts of the earlier events. His footsteps were heavy as he searched for her, his eyes carefully scanning the surroundings. His resolve to confront her growing stronger with every step.

Finally, Zoro stumbled upon her, moving towards the small cabin at the corner of the basement. It was a place where she stored her belongings, a private space she often went to. Zoro's eyes followed her as she walked towards the cabin, and his eyes softened slightly, but his resolve to speak to her remained unwavering.

Zoro stepped into the cabin, his presence instantly filling the small space. He was used to entering her cabin, having been granted access as her boyfriend. His eyes immediately were drawn to her figure, long hooded black dress that hugged her curves, and cling all over her hourglass slim figure, with v collar cut, exposing her large, rounded cleavage and half of her breast sides, and Waist trainer that wrapped tightly around her small perfect waist, and a black cloak behind her back and a flower tattoo on her forehead, and black gothic collar necklace with Ruby on it, and black Smokey eye makeup, and black lipliner and Ruby red lipstick, and blood over her mouth sides and pale white cheeks 

Zoro watched her, his eyes noticing her muttering to herself. Noticing her teeth getting sharper once again, indicating that she had trouble controlling her anger, which was evident from her earlier demeanor during the battle. Zoro sighed silently, the sight of her sharpened teeth adding to his worry and understanding that her emotions were overwhelming her.

As Zoro approached her, his voice was calm and detached, masking the internal conflict he felt. His words were a mix of concern and frustration as he spoke, "I told you to communicate when you're upset…", Her yellow and large eyes, held a flash of emotion as she hissed, "Move away, Zoro!" Her tone was sharp and commanding, leaving no room for debate or negotiation.

Zoro felt a mix of emotions - concern, frustration, and a tinge of hurt. He had hoped to find a moment to discuss her earlier behavior and jealousy, but her hiss and sharp commanding tone made his jaw clench. He continued to stand there, his voice strained as he said "Move away? So we're not going to talk about today, are we?"

She clenched her hand into a tight fist, “I told you to MOVE!!..” she hissed then turned ready to lash out at whomever stood in her way. Before she could even move, Zoro acted quickly, placing his hand in her mouth to stop her from attacking him. Her vicious bite left a mark on his palm, but aside from a slight twitch of his jaw, he didn't flinch, his composure unshaken. Her attempts to attack him went unnoticed, and he responded calmly as if the bite didn't phase him.

Zoro stared at her, his eyes watching her intensely, he spoke, his voice still cold. He wasn't going to let her slip away from this conversation. He said, his tone was a mix of annoyance and curiosity "Aren't you going to talk to your boyfriend about what pissed you off earlier?"

Her frustration grew as she bit him even harder, her tone dripping with anger. But her reaction intensified when she noticed his lack of reaction. “When exactly!?.. when you safe robin instead of me !!! Or when you grip her waist a front of me !!!..” she spoke dangerously in dark feminine voice, Her eyes narrowed as she accused him of saving Robin first and grasping Robin's waist in front of her, a clear source of jealousy and resentment.

Zoro's expression remains composed despite her biting him harder and the sharpness in her tone. He noticed her intense jealousy, her accusation resonating within him. It was clear that his actions had triggered her. He spoke with a mix of defensiveness and irritation in his voice "That's what this is about? Saving Robin and grabbing her waist?", Her voice raised, conveying her frustration and hurt. Her tone was sharp and defensive as she exclaimed, "Don't act like it's nothing! Don't make me feel stupid!!"

Zoro was taken aback by her tone, her hurt and frustration becoming even more evident. Her words, "don't act like it's nothing! don't make me feel stupid!!" cut through. He sighed and tried to explain, his tone still defensive, trying to keep his own growing frustration in check “I was saving her from Enel's attack! And grabbing her waist was simply a natural reaction to prevent her from getting hit.", Her eyes, burning with a dangerous intensity, met his gaze, her mouth stained with blood. Frustration and pain were evident in her expression, her neala yellow eyes glaring at him. "I was the one attacked," she said, her tone fierce, "and yet you still saved Robin first!.."

Zoro's jaw clenched tight, his expression remained stern as he locked eyes with her. Their eyes met, and Zoro could see the intensity in hers, her mouth stained with blood.

He felt a mix of defensiveness and helplessness as his eyes met hers, noticing the pain and betrayal in her expression, He struggled to explain himself.

"Y/n, I know how strong you are you didn’t need me!, you already blocked the attack with one swift, she was about to get hurt, she’s one of our crew.",

She clenched her fists in frustration, her eyes still burning with intensity. Her teeth clenched together and the blood on her mouth contrasted with her pale cheeks, the bitterness in her expression evident.

She shot back, her voice filled with bitterness and pain. "Don't give me that!" She clenched her fists even tighter, the tension in her shoulders increasing. "I blocked the attack!, but you still saved her first!", Her eyes welled up with tears, and blood was all around her mouth. The sadness in her voice was palpable as she choked back a sob. "You in love with me, she's the other woman!" She cried, her voice cracking with hurt and jealousy behind this brittle voice.

Zoro's expression softened slightly, his eyes flickered with a mix of hurt and frustration. He felt a pang of confusion within him, struggling to understand her emotions, As her voice quivered, her jealousy and sadness filled the room, his eyes fixed on hers as she accused him, the mention of Robin being the 'other woman' making him feel a tug in his chest. "Y/N, you know it's not like that"

Her tears continued to stream down her cheeks, the pain and jealousy in her voice evident. Zoro's softened expression caused her to wince slightly, but her jealousy remained strong.

Her voice cracking with emotion, she retorted, "You know what? You can't deny it!", He took a deep breath, his expression shifting to one of frustration. He knew he needed to explain himself, even though he felt defensive and slightly confused by her intense jealousy.

Zoro felt his defense wavering as her emotions poured out, the hurt and jealousy evident in her words. He was hurt himself, his expression a mix of vulnerability and desperation, "you know I love only you"

The intensity of her emotions was palpable, her voice breaking as she continued, her tone filled with heartbreak. She looked at him, her eyes still watery but now filled with anger.

"No!!…. What if you love her?! What if you already do?! Am I just going to be the other woman?! No, I won't become the OTHER WOMAN!!" She continued in anguish, her voice growing louder and more desperate.

His lips pressed against hers, disregarding the blood and lipstick that still clung to her mouth. Their past familiarity led him to know how volatile her emotions could be, and he understood that simply listening wasn't enough for her in this moment, The kiss grew more passionate and intense. Zoro felt her mouth slightly open, his lips firmly against hers. He poured his emotions into it, intending to shut down her jealousy and reassure her, though it still tasted of blood and lipstick.

As she shifted her attention to his neck, her actions grew possessively aggressive. She left hickeys and love marks in different places, creating an intimate map of their passion. However, he tensed as her fangs hovered near a more dangerous spot, waiting for what came next. As she finally sunk her teeth into his skin, her fangs sinking into his skin, Zoro winced slightly.*

“Mmmm, м𝓐η 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡!” she purrs deeply and darkly, and her feminine voice , before she chuckled softly like a psychopath, The deep, dark purr coming from her had effects on his mind and body. Her voice tempted him, feminine, dark and seductive. Zoro felt a mix of vulnerability and arousal by her tone

Zoro pushed you against the wall, and you let out a small yelp in surprise. You can tell he was dirty, sweaty, scraped up… but you didn’t have time to think about that, because he crashed his lips onto yours with a feverish need. You yelped again, and all Zoro did was bite your bottom lip, before he knelt down.

He spat on your cunt, then teasingly rubbed one finger in-between your folds. You moaned and arched your back, finding it hard to handle his slow pace. He didn’t let up, though; he kept rubbing his thumb in lazy circles over your entrance, then moving up to rub lazy circles on your clit, and then back down, As his pace continues, he stand up to look at your needy eyes.

“Yeah? You like that?” He rasps, groping each breasts with a hand. Nodding your head, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and drew him closer to your sweaty, hot body. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” He says, pulling out. Before you can reply, he commands, “hands and knees on the bed. Ass up.” 

You comply, feeling a rush of anticipation and excitement. Your heart pounds in your chest as you position yourself on the bed, hands and knees sinking into the mattress. “Like this?” 

“Exactly like that.” Zoro replies, taking a moment to admire the view: you. His hands trace the curves of your body, sending shivers down your spine. He sighs as he lovingly traces his name on your back with his fingers, temporarily claiming you belong to him.

He smirked then she didn’t felt of anything except his hand slapping her ass. You squeak as he roughly pulled your hair, making your back arch down so you two locked eyes. “Tonight is all about you, MY ONLY WOMAN.” He let go of your hair and propped you back to your previous stance. “Now, be a good girl for me while I take your ass…”

Zoro was prepared. Taking your sweet pussy wasn’t the only hole he planned to fill. He lubed his fingers and inserted them one by one into your ass, taking note of your reactions and noises to each movement he made. When satisfied, he positions himself behind you, fingers underneath you and teasing your most sensitive spots below your belly button. “You want this as much as I do, don’t you?”

With a powerful thrust, he enters you again, filling you completely. His movements were intense, leaving you breathless; your bodies were in perfect unison as both of you rocked into each other. The noises heard were the slaps of skin on skin as your bodies melted into each other's with each thrust he gave; the quiet moans you desperately try to hide, and Zoro repeatedly hissing your name. His hands continued to grip your hips, pulling you back to meet each thrust with a force that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you.

“Open your mouth “ was the only thing you could hear it at the moment, Without thinking, you open your mouth lightly, sucking on his thumb as you close your eyes. Zoro stiffened before lust clouded his vision as he watched your innocent act, excited that you had no idea what had been covering that digit. “Dammit Y/n…” He cursed, feeling himself getting hard again. Seeing that you were asleep again, Zoro sat up slightly as he leaned closer to your ear, a low growl leaving his lips as he whispered his next few words.

who knows, maybe their is something much better then .. м𝓐η 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡!

Note. Sheesh!, first time write a smut, not sure if it was the best, but I think I made first good impression ﹒⌗﹒🕷️﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧

[idksmtms]

The Prettiest Trophy (Capitol Elite!Aegon II Targaryen x Games Winner!reader (Hunger Games AU)

Summary: You never thought you would make it out of the hunger games, but now you have another fight ahead of you. What do you do when one of the most powerful citizens of the capitol has chosen you to be his? 

Word count: 3.5k 

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, Dub-con due to power imbalance, coercion too ig (???), some angst (reader talks about survivor’s guilt from the games),  p in v s*x, unprotected s*x, oral f receiving, degradation (constantly referring to lesser status of districts), objectification and ownership,  (please let me know if I missed any) 

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim to own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :) 

AN: Aaaaa my first fic finally! Didn't mean to make it this long but I got a bit carried away! I hope you enjoy! (Side note: I was imagining his hair as the style in the black and white pic, just with Targaryen white, Side note 2: I def realise the references to the way Gollum talks about the ring, IT WAS ON PURPOSE)

You never thought you would leave the arena. Every second could have been your last and you still didn’t quite believe you had made it out, that you were standing outside the President’s mansion at a lavish party, dressed in silks and jewels. No one told you how to live after the games were over. It had taken you three days just to be able to get out of bed and move around again after leaving the arena. Being at this party? It felt like a betrayal to all the people who had died so you could live. You sipped from the sickly sweet drink that almost seemed to glow in the night, and looked around the garden. 

Most people had finally left you alone thankfully, though you could still see eyes turning your way, whispers and conversations pointed toward your presence in the garden. At least no one was trying to force you into a picture like some capitol celebrity anymore. 

People in the most lavish costumes customary of the capitol milled about, talking, whispering, cackling like witches in their modified bodies with their modified voices. It was a horror show. The gardens had been decorated with delicate yellow fairy lights strung up in the trees and over poles around the tables. You assumed they wanted to give it a warm and welcoming look with the yellow lighting but it only cast grotesque shadows on the building that was not only the backdrop to this party, but to all your nightmares. There were tables set up with stark white tablecloths draped over them, an area cleared away for a dance floor, and more noise coming from the entrance to the mansion. Avoxes walked around carrying trays of food and drink between their hands, heads bent low, and shame began to rise inside you. What were you doing here? Why were you forced to be here?

There was someone behind you. You didn’t know when you had become so aware of any presence, probably somewhere between fending off humans and wildlife alike in the arena, and you could distinctly feel someone behind you. A slight shadow fell over your shoulders. A small touch rustled the train of your dress. Someone cleared their throat. You turned around, hands quivering, and looked at the man smirking broadly at you. Your first thought, shamefully: was he even real? 

His hair was so blond it was white, cut short and combed back so perfectly he could be no less than an aristocrat. He wore a suit of dark grey over a black shirt, one of the less eccentrically dressed people at the party. But his shoes were lavish. Black and shinier than anything you had ever seen, embroidered with gold thread, gold jewellery dangling from the laces and gems stamped into the fabric. Surely this man was of the richest of the rich, because even in the capitol people were wont to have shoes so lavish. You stared at his shoes for a good minute, whole body frozen, when he cleared his throat once more. You looked at his eyes. You couldn’t tell if they were more blue or grey, like ice had formed over a stormy ocean. 

“And who might you be?” He asked, mouth still smiling, before he brought his glass up to his lips and took a drink while waiting for your answer. 

“You don’t know who I am?” You asked, almost taking a step back. That couldn’t be true. Viewing was mandatory, your face had been plastered across every screen in Panem for weeks, it couldn’t be true that he didn’t know you. And yet… for a moment… it felt so good not to be recognised. You were just some other girl, lost in the crowd at a party, who hadn’t gone through what you had gone through. 

“Well, I may know of you, but I don’t know you know you,” his smile had softened and he stepped closer until his elbow lightly brushed yours and you were both looking out at the party.

“I suppose that’s true,” you answered quietly, still watching his face. His skin was almost as dangerously pale as his hair, and sallow, like he was never quite in the best of health. Though you couldn’t deny the truth, he was a handsome man regardless of his slightly ragged appearance. 

“Aegon Targaryen the second,” he held out his hand, running his eyes over your face like he hadn’t gathered enough of it the first time, “and you?” 

“Y/n L/n,” you breathed out, reaching out an unsteady hand to limply shake his own. He gently clasped your fingers and brought your hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to your knuckles before releasing your hand. It was such an odd sensation, his hot breath brushing over the back of your hand, his fingertips slightly rough - but not enough to suggest any sort of manual labour - clasping the skin of your palm. Your cheeks went hot, the tips of your ears tingling, and you continued staring at this enigma. 

“How has the capitol been treating you?” He asked, chugging the rest of his drink and depositing it on the tray of an Avox as they passed by like some well-practised dance. You didn’t want to reply. “Well, I suppose you haven’t had the time to truly enjoy it. At least, not the truly fun bits anyway,” he shrugged, tilting his head and looking at you like it was a particularly amusing thing he just said. 

You couldn’t understand this at all. Who was this man? What was this interaction? What did he want with you? Why was he acting so mundane, like this was normal?! None of this was normal. 

Noticing the look on your face, Aegon chuckled and reached forward to push some hair over your shoulder. It took everything within you to hold in your shiver. 

“Ah, you must be confused about who I am! I shouldn’t have assumed you would understand the name Targaryen. We may be famous in the capitol but who knows what goes on in the districts,” you swallowed hard and nodded, trying not to flinch at the dig. “Our family works in all sorts of sectors, for example, my uncle Daemon is responsible for manufacturing arms for the state, my younger brother Aemond works under the president in some position or other - god knows he never shuts up about it - and my father currently runs the peacekeeper program. Of course I’m expected to step up to that eventually but- I won’t bore you with the details.” 

You didn’t really consider that work. You had seen the way your parents toiled in the factory every day, had seen the way every member of your family slowly became a hunchback from their work. But you weren’t going to say anything to him. 

“What does your family do?” He asked, and again you almost moved out of surprise. His face seemed so sincere as he watched you, waiting for an answer. 

“I’m from District 8, so my parents work the looms,” you answered slowly. You almost sounded condescending, like you were talking to someone who couldn’t quite understand your words, but Aegon understood it was the shock of him speaking to you. After all, it had only been a week since you had left the arena, he understood how difficult it would be to gain your confidence. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. And Aegon was a firm believer that flattery could get you anywhere, especially a girl’s bed. So he decided to change course. 

“Do you see that man over there?” He pointed discreetly to a spot just to your right and you shuffled back so you could look over without being noticed. You sipped from your glass as you noticed the man, an older gentleman wearing a full fursuit topped with a lion’s mane going around his head. Even his face had been painted with fur and whiskers to resemble a lion with the body of a human. You nodded to Aegon, turning away from the man. Something about that picture made you uncomfortable in a way you had never been before. “Well, rumour has it that he wears that entire get up, face paint and all mind you, every time he fucks.” You gasped, staring at Aegon with eyes so wide they started to hurt. 

“You can’t be serious,” you whispered sharply. 

“I am the most serious, dearest. Why would I lie to you?” He smirked, leaning closer once more. He draped his arm over your shoulder and you stiffened for a moment before continuing to listen to his next story. 

You were slowly beginning to relax in Aegon’s company as he continued to chatter to you. He no longer asked questions or expected you to speak, just pointed out people in the crowd and made colourful commentary that had you hiding your face in his shoulder and giggling against the fabric of his suit. He gazed at you with sparkling eyes full of mirth and shared his ever-full glass of whatever drink they were serving at the time. You couldn’t help but be charmed. Maybe, just maybe, not everyone in the capitol was as bad as they seemed. 

“D’you wanna go somewhere quieter?” He finally asked after completely relieving another stranger of their dignity. You took a moment to catch your breath and looked at him, at the sudden darkening of his eyes and the way his tongue poked out to lick his lips. He watched you like a tiger readying to pounce. You nodded without a second thought. Though he had made the party bearable, anywhere would be better than here. He smiled and reached down, sliding his fingers over your inner wrist, then your palm, then grasping your hand in his own. “Come on.” 

Aegon led you into the house and up the stairs, nodding at random people (who sometimes you could barely recognise as people), skilfully dodging attempts at conversation. Up and up the lavish stairs you went before walking down a large hallway and stopping in front of a wall. Aegon pushed at the wall and it gave way, revealing a spiral staircase in the dark that led up into an abyss. 

“Um, are you sure you know where you’re going?” You asked, pausing at the entrance to the rather dingy looking chamber. 

“There are some perks to having been at the president’s mansion practically since I was born. One of those being secret access to the roof, now come on!” He dragged you into the dark and shut the door behind him, before ushering you up the first steps. 

The staircase really wasn’t all that tall. In fact, you could see the top and light bled down from the opening. Your heels clanked against each step and you almost toppled back into Aegon more than once. Then you were at the top. Then you could see the whole Capitol. Oh it was breathtaking! The whole city, laid out before you like a miniature scene to play with. There were lights glimmering in houses and cars on the roads and life! There were signs of life everywhere. Oh you couldn’t believe it. You almost believed you could see to the very edges of Panem. 

 “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Aegon asked, and you turned to meet his eyes. Both of you had moved right to the edge of the rooftop so you could look out over the party, and he moved to stand directly behind you. You could feel his chest press into your back. The fabric of his shirt rubbed against the skin of your back and he was a solid pressure behind you, like the comfort of a wall at your back when you slept. “Hm?” He asked again, bending his head down to run his nose up your neck. You shivered, the light graze was just ticklish enough to start a spark inside of you. 

 “Yes,” you breathed out, clenching your hands on the concrete to stop yourself from leaning back into him. You didn’t know him. You didn’t really know him. You didn’t know him at all. 

 “You know,” he began slowly, hands going to your shoulders and turning you around to face him. “When I first saw you on the television, the day of the reaping, I knew you would win.” Your breath caught in your throat. Your mouth was so dry. You wished you hadn’t discarded that sweet drink so quickly. “And look at you now,” he leaned in closer, cupping your face to force your eyes to meet his, “you’re the winner, the greatest person in Panem, to come out of the districts anyway.” He gently kissed your right cheek, warm lips on plush skin, and when he pulled away the breeze cooled the hint of saliva he had left behind. “You’re the greatest treasure one could possess, you know?” He kissed your other cheek, firmer this time, like he was trying to leave the imprint of his lips on your skin. “Everyone knows the winner of the Hunger Games, and to say you own them? To parade them on your arm for everyone to see, saying you own the very concept of survival?” He seemed to groan in pleasure, and then everything was moving. 

His lips were on yours, slightly wet and forceful. His tongue was delving into your mouth, tasting like sugar, too much sugar, and you wanted to pull back because it was so overwhelming and everything he had just said and and and… and it felt so good too. It was warm, and desperate, like no one had ever been for you before. 

A hand moved into your hair and grasped the strands at the back of your head tight, pulling slightly to tilt your head back so you had to look up at him. He was almost leaning over you so your spine bent over the edge of the roof, and the skin of your back scratched against the unpainted concrete. He huffed against your mouth then pulled back, his other hand coming up to trace your mouth with his thumb. You stared into his eyes but he wasn’t looking back at you, not really anyway. He was watching his prize, the reward that no one but him deserved. 

You whimpered, a small and pathetic sound that only seemed to make his skin hotter, and he let go of your hair to begin pulling the straps of your dress down your arms. It was a heavy thing, and it felt good to finally be rid of the weight, but you were keenly aware of the cold night and the party in full swing just underneath you. If someone in the garden decided to look up, they would surely see you bent over the edge. 

“Wait-” you began to protest, but Aegon was past listening, past caring. He just shoved the dress under your breasts and down your legs, before grabbing your face and bringing your mouth to his own again. His hands travelled over your neck, then caressed your shoulders. He gently pressed the red indents the straps of the dress had left and you sighed into his mouth, leaning onto his chest. Your nipples rubbed against the fabric of his shirt and you gasped into the kiss before moving your chest slightly. The warm little tingles travelled all the way through your torso and you clung to his arms. 

Aegon kissed sloppily over your cheeks, your neck, pausing to bite into it until you grunted with pain and pushed at his shoulder. He licked all the way down to your chest, his tongue warm and wet, then the slick trail of spit suddenly cold. Your legs felt unsteady, and you leaned back against the barrier as he began mouthing at your breasts, little circles of warmth formed everywhere he kissed, and then his mouth closed over your nipple and you clenched. It was so… weird. A wet suction formed over your nipple and it seemed to make the inside of your breast spark, your stomach jolt, and the space between your thighs tingle and turn to mush. 

“Come on precious,” he mumbled against your skin, “you can be louder,” and he bit the flesh. It really was a live wire attached to your skin, so easy to spark, so easy to create a fire that spread all throughout your body. 

Aegon was quicker with the other nipple, licking over it like a dog with a bowl of water, before making his way down to the apex of your thighs. He seemed to be in a hurry with the way he dove his face between your legs. A cry left your lips, loud and shriek-like, at the overwhelming activity. His nose slipped between your lips and pressed to your clit, his tongue out and flat and lapping against the sticky slick that covered the puffy folds that hid your hole. He was ravenous, pressing his face in in in until you stood on your tiptoes and half your weight was balanced against his face. The contours of his face pressed at your hole, his nose rubbed at your clit, and he moved his face back and forth so his tongue could poke inside of you then slip back into his mouth. He began speaking into you, rumbling words you couldn’t understand over the rushing in your head. 

“Come on, cum on my face,” he huffed, grabbing your thighs and licking at your clit until it was puffy and swollen. “I wan’ you to cum on my face, give me what I want.” He pressed his tongue inside you. In. Out. He licked your clit. In. Out. He sucked it into his mouth, and your legs shook so much that you would’ve fallen onto the floor if you weren’t practically laying on the barrier already. It was a release. That’s all it could be called. Every muscle clenched then released. Even your mind felt like it had slowly been clenching and now it had been unravelled and was slowly dripping out of your skull. 

“Fuck, that’s right,” Aegon mumbled as he pulled away, standing to full height and pulling your hips against his own. His hair had fallen forward into his eyes and his mouth and nose glistened in the low light, but he didn’t seem to care one bit. He had leaned over your body again, pressing his face into your neck. The slick on his chin stuck to your skin and squished whenever he moved. He humped into you a few times, grunting and groaning, before hurriedly reaching down and fumbling with his belt and zipper. You could hear the clanking of metal, the rustle of fabric, and then something warm pressing to your thigh. 

There was no waiting with Aegon. His body simply didn’t contain the patience for it, and really why would you wait when the prize you had so long coveted lay bare before you, just ripe for the taking? A shift here, a push there, and he caught at your entrance. He finally pulled away from your neck and looked into your eyes. He caressed your cheek, and you could tell all he saw was a trophy he had just won. 

Then Aegon pressed into you, and his veins rubbed at your slick insides, pressing against your walls and sliding against your own textured flesh and you were leaning back to moan into the night sky, chest heaving. He kissed your breasts and pushed into you again, his lower stomach pressing your clit. Again, he moved into you and the sparks flashed and you clenched around him, onto him, and he moaned against your ear, hot breath fanning the shell. 

“Fuck yes, you’re my precious little thing aren’t you? Huh? You’re my special little prize?” His hips slapped against yours and the sound echoed over the roof. His mouth biting into your neck sent sparks through you. Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and oh god it was too much! You clenched onto him and screamed into his neck, open mouth pressed to the sweaty skin. You clenched and unclenched onto him as waves passed through you, melting your flesh and your bones. It was over too soon yet it lasted too long. He pushed once more, twice more, and you could feel him quiver against you, even as you tried to push him away from the pulsing flesh of your insides. You could feel the spurts inside you, hot and gushing. You felt it trickle out of you, slide down your thighs in warm rivulets and you shuddered. 

Aegon still lay on top of you, huffing heavily into your neck. You didn’t know what to do, so you stayed still, waiting for guidance, waiting for the other shoe to fall. He slowly pushed up on his arms so his face hovered above yours, and he smiled a dazed and delirious smile. Was it always there, or had it just appeared, that insanity in his eyes? 

“Oh my precious,” he sighed, cupping your cheek, “we have so much ahead.”

[yellowjacketsfashion]

While there are lots of options as to where you can buy a replica of the Yellowjackets Letterman Jacket, they’re not always easily attainable. Last year for halloween I made my own letterman and I figured others could find my process helpful. (The supplies I used were things I already had or were accessible to me but there are other ways to create the same thing. If you have different materials that also work feel free to make suggestions or use them in your process).

HOW TO MAKE A YELLOWJACKETS LETTERMAN JACKET:

Supplies:

• Gold/Navy Letterman jacket

• Printer

• White Printer paper

• Gold Felt

•Chalk

• Heat ‘n Bond

• Embroidery floss in the colors White, Black, Gold and Gray (I ended up needing two packs of white).

• Embroidery needle

• White (or light colored) tissue paper

• White fabric (I used cotton)

• Embroidery hoop

• (Optional) White and Black thread

• Glue stick

Step 1: Aquire your jacket.

You can do a lot of different things for the plain base jacket. I bought mine off Amazon but if wanted too you could probably sew one or buy one second hand etc. The only specification is that it’s Gold and Navy. It is important to do this first because everything else builds off of this step.

Step 2: Print out designs.

Use the photos I provided below and paste them into a word document. From there you can size them up or down to reach the size that you like for printing. The “Yellowjackets” logo is for the back of the jacket so when I did it I kind of split the photo in half and put it on two different pages. In the end it turned out to be just shy of 13 inches length wise. The round patch goes on the front and mine was 4.25 inches in diameter.

Depending on the size of your jacket your patches can be bigger or smaller, but once your happy with the sizing you can then move onto the next step.

Step 3: Gather supplies.

The gold felt is to be used to create the back patch. Because of the size of mine I was able to get a little 50 cent sheet of it (I was able to place the logo at an angle to fit it) but because the patch sizes will be different it’s important to bring your print out of the logo when shopping to make sure you have enough. Most craft / fabric stores should have this in stock. It’s also a good idea to bring your letterman jacket with you to try to color match the shades of gold/yellow as best as possible.

The embroidery hoop, floss, white fabric, and thread are for the front patch as I hand embroidered mine but in theory you could use an embroidery machine or printable fabric sheets to create your patch. If you use these other methods you’ll need different supplies and different instructions that I can’t give.

The Heat ‘n Bond is to iron the patches onto your jacket so they stick (though I’ve had to re iron my back patch because the fibers of the wool make it hard to stick to). It will essentially act as double sided tape.

Step 4: Creating & attaching the back patch

• Cut out a piece of Heat n’ Bond that covers the area where your logo will go.

(i am using colored paper in the example pictures. Yellow represents the felt. White represents the heat and Bond).

• Once you have the right sized piece of Heat n’ Bond, iron it onto the back of your piece of Gold felt (make sure to follow the instructions on the Heat n’ bond packaging).

•Use your printed template of the logo and cut out the words on the felt. You can cut out the logo on paper first and trace it or attach the paper to the felt and just cut them both at the same time. (I moved the dot on the J down so that it’s still attached just to make it easier but you can do whatever you want).

• Put on your Letterman and use the chalk to mark where on the back you want the patch to go. For this step it can be helpful to have someone else assist you (though it’s possible to do it yourself).

• Take off the jacket and lay it flat to align the patch up with your chalk markings. Once it is where you want it you can Iron it onto the back of the jacket (according to the instructions on the Heat n’ Bond).

You now have a finished back patch!

Step 5: Creating the front patch.

• Trace the design of the front patch onto tissue paper (I would suggest a dark pen or sharpie so you can see it really well). If you have trouble seeing the design underneath it can be helpful to hold it to a window pane when it’s sunny or another light source. The photo of the logo I included has a white border around the black words but the patch in the show doesn’t have it so I just ignored it. From there you glue the traced tissue paper onto the fabric.

• Cut out a piece of white fabric big enough for your embroidery hoop and glue the tissue paper sketch onto the fabric.

• Put the fabric/tissue paper into the Embroidery hoop.

• Thread the needle and start embroidering the design. I found it good to use different techniques on different areas of the patch (long white stitches on the wings versus short ones on the background etc. I also thought it was helpful to embroider in color groupings (so like white all at once or yellow all at once etc. so you don’t have to switch out the floss that much). Save the white outer circle and black outline for last though to help clean everything up. The white and black sewing thread can be used to outline smaller details or neaten up some of the floss.

• Once the patch is done cut out a piece of Heat n’ Bond that covers the back of the patch.

• Put on your jacket and mark with chalk where you want to put the patch. In the show it’s placed by the second from the top button. (See Jackie reference photo at the top of the post).

• Iron on the Heat n’ Bond to the back of the patch (following packet instructions).

• Iron the Patch to the jacket based on your chalk markings.

• You have completed the front patch!

Above are some photo examples of my jacket (please ignore my messy hair in the left picture, being in the snow got it ruffled up).

Sorry for the long post but I think I got everything covered. I hope you guys found this helpful but if you have any questions about the jacket, my process, or anything else feel free to ask!