#elegant head scarves

[limabrown]

Best Travel Destinations in Africa:

Best Travel Destinations in Africa:

Durban South Africa Durban is the coastal city in Kwazulu-Natal on the Eastside of South Africa and it’s famous for arts and culture, beautiful beaches, and seasonal events but when you have visited a place too many times, you end up running out of ideas and this is why it’s always better to travel a little bit outside of the city and explore. BEACH AND OCEAN VIEW WHAT TO WEAR ON…

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode illustrée, no. 19, 9 mai 1897, Paris. Toilette de casino ou garden-party. Modèle de chez Mmes Coussinet-Piret, rue Richer, 43. Ville de Paris / Bibliothèque Forney

Description de la gravure coloriée:

Les toilettes de casino sont, les plus élégantes parmi celles que l'on porte en été; notre aquarelle reproduit l'une des plus gracieuses, parmi ces toilettes.

La robe faite en taffetas broché, de nuance framboise adoucie, est de forme princesse. La partie supérieure du corsage est formée par deux draperies de gaze de soie crème, qui se croisent et se répètent sur le dos, comme sur le devant du buste; ces draperies sont reliées à la partie inférieure du corsage, par une belle guipure de Venise; les devants sont bordés chacun, par une écharpe plissée, en mousseline de soie crème, semblable à celle qui est employée pour les draperies de la partie supérieure du corsage; chacune de ces écharpes est fixée sur le bord inférieur de la jupe par de gros choux, en même mousseline de soie; les écharpes qui se rétrécissent vers la taille, se rattachent à des ruches de même mousseline, qui se continuent jusqu'aux entournures. Les manches avec bouillonné sur leur bord supérieur, plates, depuis ce bouillonné, sont fendues au poignet et garnies à l'intérieur d'une ruche de dentelle; au col droit, plissé, fait en mousseline de soie, se rattache une petite tête de méme mousseline.

Chapeau en paille-satin crème, garni de plumes d'autruche blanche, et d'une draperie en mousseline de soie blanche.

—

Casino ensembles are the most elegant among those worn in summer; our watercolor reproduces one of the most graceful of these.

The dress made of brocaded taffeta, in a softened raspberry shade, has a princess shape. The upper part of the bodice is formed by two draperies of cream silk gauze, which intersect and repeat on the back, as on the front of the bust; these draperies are connected to the lower part of the bodice, by a beautiful Venetian guipure; the fronts are each bordered by a pleated scarf, in cream silk muslin, similar to that used for the draperies of the upper part of the bodice; each of these scarves is fixed on the lower edge of the skirt by large choux, in the same silk muslin; the scarves, which narrow towards the waist, are attached to ruffles of the same muslin, which continue to the armholes. The sleeves with shirring on their upper edge, flat, since this shirring, are slit at the wrist and trimmed inside with a lace ruffle; to the straight, pleated collar, made of silk muslin, is attached a small head of the same muslin.

Cream straw-satin hat, trimmed with white ostrich feathers, and white silk chiffon drapery.

[rei-vii]

The Depths Call, Plunged by the Beauty

|| basically an Octavinelle x GN!Reader but is a an actual shrimp merperson thingy

A/N: Did this first instead of doing my schoolworks 😭 the brainrot was getting to me also i'll prolly make this a series of sort. will post more of my hc in a few days. just need to take care of this hectic week !!

The luminescent lights of the aquariums never felt so alive right now. The corals dipped in radiance, basked by the effulgent energy. Eyes beaded to the lone swimmer of the still waves, their figure illuminated by the jellyfish. Such phylum glowing bright like cyan pearls that adorned the flourishing abode. 

The dorm felt lively.

The clattering of utensils, shuffles of quick footsteps of workers, and the chatter of students who all made way into the lounge for a dine and rest. Violet hued interiors provided regality and sophistication as if wealth and ambition were morphed in it, giving such a satisfying sight of the interior for one to see. Employees clad in black and gray scarves worked diligently, serving their dear customers with dishes and exquisite drinks. But drew the attention of the people was the features of the performer in the tanks.

Draped with nothing but scales and a grin, they swam across the water with elegance. Tendrils of their hair swayed by the motion of the water and the flick of their tail created an enchanting movement. Students watched the performer who worked in silence pulled by a magnetic appeal. The cafe seemed so busy, but time felt slow when they glided in a circular motion. The tank’s colors suited them so much, along with the twinkle in your eyes which blended well with the flowing substance yet stood out in the sight of the viewers.

“Ahahaha! They look so happy swimming right now!” The squeal of an impulsive twin was vocalized, chuckling at the scene of you waving at a student who watched you in the tank with intent. With a delicate smile that pushed your eyes up, the student flinched and returned to their meal with flustered cheeks. 

It was a usual day in the lounge but you enjoyed this part of your job nonetheless. 

Small fishes that paddled their way to you were gently caressed by the hands that cared for them. Hands of which happily poked at them behind the glass screen of the aquarium and gave company to their little world. A little titter from your mouth and a fish zoomed behind your neck, pushing through the flowing mop of hair that rippled like an upward seagrass. 

“How bubbly,” Nobody can hear the light whisper of your remark in the waters as you tenderly prodded the fish that caught your attention earlier.

A few spectated the simple scene but Jade smiled under his hand. So endearing of your antics, he presumed. The corners of his lips ghosted a genuine curve and his gloved hand neared his mouth and urged a cough in his throat as he went on with his task.

Few onlookers had their heads boldly turned to your appearance behind the encased glass. Curious eyes and those who seek of entertainment trailed behind you, of course you were standing out in the background. Your shelled tail flapped again as you went near the glass, hovering over as few inches were between you and the wall that separated the water and the dorm. 

A small fry approached the tank and slowly pressed their digits to the glass. They had no distinguishable appearance, you mused. But the hand they placed made a sentiment to you. As you drift near the glass, you connect your hand back to the student’s palm beyond the transparent panel. You eyed down the individual as they reveled in front your true sea form. Amazement scattered across their face, ignoring the yap of their companions which were calling out to them.

You only smiled back in return, eyes half-opened that took in the appearance of the peculiar person.

“Enjoying [Name]’s little show, Prefect?” 

Azul quipped in, a staff in his hand and the other placed onto his chest. He absolutely didn’t miss the way your eyes subtly lit up by his arrival.

The dorm truly felt lively with your company.

[ladamedusoif]

Scarf (Javi Gutierrez x gn!Reader)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 4

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist. FYI: I'm having so much trouble with taglists at the moment that I'm not going to use them for now - if you want to keep updated, follow @ladameecrit and turn on notifications.

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x gn!reader

Rating: Teen

Word count: 658

Warnings: Reader can knit (try it, it’s fun!); reader gives Javi a Christmas gift but consider this a secular Christmas; no use of Y/N, no use of gendered pronouns, no physical descriptions of reader; mild angst.

Summary: Once upon a time, your first Christmas gift to Javi was a perfectly imperfect handmade scarf.

He always ended up gazing at your hands while you knitted. 

It was hypnotic, almost: the repetitive little gestures with your clever fingers, the yarn over, yarn under, turn the work; the way you would furrow your brow just so and purse your lips as you counted the stitches. 

The way he always had to suppress a giggle when you swore at whatever you were making, sighing in exasperation. 

Javi could never quite grasp how you managed it without looking. He asked about that, once, when you were cosied up beside him on his long couch, blanket over your knees, knitting away while your eyes were trained on Paddington 2 playing on the TV. 

“It’s muscle memory by now,” you’d explained. “I learn the pattern, I memorise what I need to, and then I can tell by touch what the next stitch is and should be. It’s just a matter of practice - anyone could do it.”

Javi shook his head, still transfixed by your hands working busily away. “It’s not practice, mi amor. It’s your magic.”

For your first Christmas gift to him, you’d made him a scarf. Soft merino yarn, a relatively simple pattern, in a beautiful shade of cornflower blue that you knew would look perfect against his beautiful olive skin and dark hair. 

You knew there were a few mistakes in it - a repeated purl stitch when it should have been a knit, a dropped stitch here and there that you’d had to patch in a little clumsily. But every stitch was invested with care and meaning, a manifestation of your desire to keep him warm, safe, and know that he was loved.

You had even found a little woven label that you hand-stitched onto the back of the scarf, stating simply: Made With Love.

When he opened the gift box, Javi’s eyes twinkled as he took out the scarf and ran his fingers carefully over the knitted fabric, taking in every detail. 

“It’s not perfect, Javi, and it’s a far cry from your cashmere scarves, but it will keep you warm when it’s cold, and I thought the colour would -”

He stopped you by cradling your face in his hands and kissing you over and over as he murmured his thanks. He picked up the scarf and draped it around his elegant throat, closing his eyes happily as he felt its warmth and softness on his skin.

“It is the most beautiful thing in the world. Apart from you, that is.”

Javi is greeted with the spectre of freezing, early morning London fog when he pulls back the curtains in his hotel room. He shivers reflexively, and goes to the wardrobe to find his warmest clothes for that day’s round of meetings. A grey turtleneck, a thermal undershirt, a charcoal suit, and his perfectly-cut houndstooth woollen overcoat. Perfect.

The sight of the scarf nestled alongside his socks in one of the hotel room drawers stops him in his tracks for a moment. He reaches down and runs his hand over its careful stitching, like he did the day you gave it to him.

So long ago, now, and so hard to understand what had transpired in the time since.

Some winters he cannot look at it, let alone wear it. But there is something inviting in its sturdy warmth today, something that whispers to him of comfort and joy.

Javi turns to the full length mirror and takes in his reflection. 

He is well put-together, but incomplete.

He drapes the scarf around his neck, fingering the little tag as he appraises himself again. 

Made With Love.

For a moment, he feels whole again.

[thecomfywriter]

Hello there!

I saw Italy has one of the non mage locations for ToV.

I'm Italian so it caught my attention 😉

Can you tell us a bit more about it?

oof okay okay! Thank you for the ask @gioiaalbanoart ! So, Italy doesn't have a huge presence in the book, in truth. The cast (Morreial, Alan, and Amara) only visit it once when they're travelling the Non-Mage, but it's where they meet a very important character named Pietro Candreva.

I don't know if I've mentioned him before. Maybe in passing. But he's the only character in the entire cast who is 100% a non-mage, meaning he has no magic whatsoever.

Pietro is the son of a blacksmith, who takes a hobby in throwing knives and making weapons. He has a seeing-aid dog named Rosco, who helps him navigate around the city (he is blind), and thus conducts most of his hobbies in the mangolia tree garden, outside his father's supervision. Pietro calls Rosco, 'his eyes', and the dog-owner bond between them is so precious ugh I love them.

He uses Rosco to help him learn how to throw knives and sense the world around him. He is often seen walking around with his hand on Rosco's head, using him for stability and guidance, but it's more for Rosco's comfort than his own, since it is later proven he doesn't really need Rosco in all situations anymore.

Pietro is the person who teaches Alan about weapons, the different types (based on what he learned from his father), and gifts him his first dagger. He also ends up being Amara's friend, her armsmaster, and SPOILERS FOR THE LIGHT OF THE FLAME SERIES: he ends up becoming the chief commander of the Soilailan military.

I love Pietro. He's sarcastic, bland, and over everyone's bullshit, but he loves showing off his love for weapons. I'll give you some notable quotes from him, but yes.. i apologize for going on a character rant instead of a location rant. Unfortunately, Italy really only acts as the meet-cute location for this integral character.

Pietro Quotes/Descriptions:

"Thank you for telling me my own life story. I had no idea."

Rosco received the package and handed it to Pietro to review. His dozens of winter scarves, gloves, and cloaks (amongst a wide assortment of thick attire), as well as the protective oils for the skin, were contained within that leather bag. His hands studied each with a touch so gentle, one would easily forget he was the son of a blacksmith, toughened and calloused harder than the leather he wore. One would easily overlook the display of various blades or ignore the party room he had transformed into a blacksmiths station to forge all his goods. If one were simply to judge Pietro based on the tenderness of his character—the softness in his clouded eyes, the discipline in his posture, the elegant handle of all his movements—one would easily mistake him for an artist of sculptures or paints, rather than a man of the anvil and hammer.

Pietro stared at me blankly, like I had asked the rudest question in the world. I didn’t discover this until literally three months later, but turns out the kid hated repeating himself. Pretentious much? But whatever.

As I found the doors of the villa again, I made sure to drop by Pietro’s room first to ask him instructions on how to find the place again. “You will be coming back?” he inquired rudely.

Rosco snarled at me, nearly ripping a chunk of my torso off if Pietro did not bark at him sharply. He gasped, then winced, then bit his cheek until it drew blood. But the boy did not cry. His dogs whimpered more than he did.

He shrugged and whistled an unknown command to Rosco as he left. Of nowhere, Rosco sprinted towards me, jumping onto his hind legs and nipping my blouse with a gruff bark. I yelped, backing as far from him as I could only to lose my balance and fall directly into the well. When I recovered from the splash, it was to the chuckling sight of Pietro tossing a treat to Rosco and affirming him with, “Good boy”. I watched him as he left, hand on Rosco’s head and gait as strong and confident as a boy with pride. All his trust was in that dog. All Rosco’s loyalty was to Pietro, in his slow speed that he matched with patience and devotion. They relied on one another

“Well done. You brought me highly radioactive material. I am guessing it is emitting a very bright glow right now.”

✧༺♥༻∞

Okay I'll cap it there. I do love this man though.

Cheerios! And thank you again for the ask

✧༺♥༻∞

BLOG LINKS:

TCW Blog Navigation Guide

PREORDER THRONE OF VENGEANCE

Join the TCW Tag Crew!

TCW Writing Bar Discord -> i may be whoops on tumblr but i am less whoops on discord, so come hither!

✧༺♥༻∞

TCW Crew:

@lunaeuphternal @the-golden-comet @renasdoodles

@drchenquill @zackprincebooks @wyked-ao3

@toragay-writing @the-letterbox-archives

@kind-lion @mysticstarlightduck @agirlandherquill

@storyteller-kara @dahliaontherun @writingismydrugs

@authorcoledipalo @sm-writes-chaos @illarian-rambling

@pexchys @an-indecisive-nerd @thelovelymachinery

@bookwormclover

[nikethestatue]

A Match Baked in Heaven

Chapter 4 Here

Part V

My Girl

Nuala W. Raith.

27 years old. A cyber security senior analyst at the New Scotland Yard. Graduated from the London School of Economics. First job was with Accenture, but was quickly recruited by the government due to her phenomenal computer skills. Fairly successful modelling career in her teens and early twenties. Longest relationship was with a Canadian hockey player. Their engagement broke up when he was photographed with a scantily-clad stripper whose head was buried in his crotch. 

Hobbies: gaming, football, rugby, cooking, live concerts

Competitive swimmer throughout her uni studies

Elain printed out the profile and placed the page in her bag. She slid her IPad into it as well and then went on to put on her coat. 

She just received a message on her phone stating ‘come out, matchmaker!’ That was exactly what she expected from her wild and untamed client.

Piglet was freaking out at the door, snorting and grunting and giving a few pathetic little barks, while he clawed at the door, impatient to leave.

“Will you calm down?” Elain muttered, and opened the door for him and he sprinted out like his arse was on fire.

There was a Bentley idling at the curb and the moment Piglet rushed out, the car door opened and Azriel Night stepped out.

Elain Archeron paused in the doorway, watching her client and marvelling at his ungodly handsomeness. Unlike his usual uniform of jeans, boots and some kind of basic shirt, today, he was wearing a dark suit, which hugged his tall, slender, muscular form to ridiculous perfection. The white shirt that was open to the chest didn’t hurt either. The dark tattoos that snaked from under his shirt and spilled over his neck and his hands made him look dangerous and desirable. It was the dichotomy of his whole being in a handsome dark package–he was a combination of dangerous and damaged, aggressive and gentle, thoughtful and mannerless, inelegant and stylish.

Suddenly, he squatted right on the sidewalk, and opened his arms wide, while Piglet leapt at him, nuzzling at him wildly, and Azriel hugged him and stroked him. 

“I missed you too, my little matey. How are you doing?”

Piglet stood on his one hind leg and placed his paws on Azriel’s shoulders, going in for a full body hug.

“How’s our girl? Is she wearing purple today, since you are rockin’ your purple tie?”

Azriel already knew the drill–outside, Piglet wore coats, ties or scarves. Today, he had on a Burberry jacket and a purple scarf that matched his coat. At home or inside, he wore his stylish bows.

At that moment, Elain stepped out of the house, and Azriel looked up and whistled loudly.

“No...she is wearing a trench coat…nice touch. I hope there is nothing underneath it…”

“Mr. Night!” Elain snapped at him, blushing profusely. “You are being scandalous and utterly inappropriate!”

He laughed, watching her, as he stroked Piglet’s back.

Elain seemed to look rather sensible, in her camel knee-length trench, a large leather tote over her shoulder, and sexy brown leather booties, but somehow, she made it all look incredibly elegant, and dare he say, sexy. Elain never went for ‘sexy’, but somehow, she made all her pristine, somewhat old-fashioned outfits look alluring. The fact that she was wearing subtle, nude fishnets didn’t hurt either. Azriel always found himself intrigued by what she was going to wear, and so far, he distinctly recalled each and every one of her ensembles. Now, he was actively pondering if the fishnets were stockings? 

“She is mad at me already! I think it’s our record time,” he whisper-shouted to the dog. “Is it my fault,” he addressed her, “that trench coats look good on sexy women and make me wish that there was nothing beneath them. It’s every man’s fantasy, you know.”

“I am not here to fulfil your fantasy,” she cut him off. “I am simply wearing a coat.”

“Mmmm.” 

He waited for her to come down the stairs and then extended his hand to her. She shook it reluctantly and he smiled brightly at her, his expression teasing.

“Did you watch the game?” he asked immediately.

“Hello to you too,” she said, while Azriel opened the car door for her and Pinky leapt in eagerly, ready for a new adventure.

“Well, hello then Ms. Archeron,” Azriel murmured, leaning so close to her that his nose almost skimmed her cheek. ”Allow me to help you inside.”

She frowned at him, as she slid inside the car, and Azriel followed her right after. 

“Good afternoon, Miss,” the driver greeted her.

She greeted him back and then looked at Azriel, a bemused expression on her face.

“Where is Mr. Night? What did you do with him? And who are you?”

He laughed, throwing his head back and she looked at his thick throat, swallowing audibly.

“I mean, a car, you are being almost polite, dressed in a suit…that’s not the Mr. Night that I know. Usually he curses, argues and taunts me relentlessly.”

“Aw, Ms, Archeron,” he ran his index finger over her long lock. “Day is still young. There is time for all that.”

“Oh, phew,” she pretended to wipe her brow. “I was getting worried.”

“You shouldn’t. The arsehole is still here and happily present. So, back to my previous question?”

“Which is?”

“Are you wearing anything under the trench?” he teased and she seethed at him as usual, crossing her arms on her chest and glowering at him. 

He raised his hands in mock surrender and said, “Okay, okay. I’ll behave. But…are you?” he whispered quickly.

“One more word, and I am leaving,” she warned.

“Dev, drive fast,” Azriel ordered and the driver smiled, as he sped down the road. 

Meanwhile, Pinkly crawled over Elain and landed on Azriel’s lap, totally disregarding Elain’s displeased hiss. Azriel chuckled, while Pinky pressed his flat face against the window. 

Elain reached into her bag and took out a pretty box with a scowl on her face. She pushed the box into Azriel’s lap without saying a word and then turned to the opposite window.

“What’s that?” he pondered.

“For you,” was all she answered. 

Curious, very, very curious, he opened the box, while Pinky tore his attention away from the window and was now panting with anticipation.

“Is that for me?” Azriel gasped, but it was genuine surprise, and not mockery. Surprise and utter delight.

The box was filled with biscuits of all kinds. Homemade.

“I said it was for you,” she shrugged like she didn’t care.

“You baked? For me?” he whispered in disbelief.

“Well, not just for you,” she argued quickly. “We had Sunday lunch at my sister Feyre’s. She served some very dodgy salmon,”

“How dodgy?” he smirked.

“Dodgy enough that we mostly ate mash and these biscuits that I brought. I had baked entirely too many. So,”

“I am getting the overflow. Thanks, pretty matchmaker!” she elbowed her gently. “I can’t believe you thought of me and made me a box!”

“Well, these are lemon,” she began pointing at different varieties of biscuits in the box. “These are almond horns. Those are orange and hazelnut,”

“Oh my god,” he marvelled in appreciation.

“Chocolate and coffee nibs. And plain shortbread.”

He looked at her. Really looked at her. Her old-fashioned, picturesque beauty, the enormous eyes, the beautiful hair, and for once, he saw someone special. Someone who didn’t fit any moulds that he was familiar with, and once again, he was at a loss. He didn’t know what to make of her.

“Elain…” he said softly, and then immediately corrected himself, “Ms. Archeron. This might be the most thoughtful and kind thing anyone’s ever done for me. I thank you. Truly.”

“You are welcome. It’s not a big thing, but you seemed to enjoy them.”

“More than you think. You baked for me. Made something with your hands…That means a lot.”

“Well, enjoy it,” Elain said gently, while Pinky was growling with impatience.

“Can I give him one?” 

“Just the plain shortbread,” Elain allowed, and Azriel fed one of the biscuits to the overexcited dog, who chomped on it noisily and messily. “He is perpetually hungry and if he could, he’d eat the whole box. He climbed onto the chair and then somehow got on top of the table and ate a whole bowl of raspberries. That was yesterday. A couple of days before, he somehow snuck into the open drawer of the refrigerator, stole a bag of sausages, ate them all, and promptly got diarrhoea…So there is that.”

Azriel was laughing silently, his whole body shaking. 

“Oh no. Why did he get the shits?”

“Because he ate like 7 or 8 sausages. He is a smallish dog. It would be the equivalent of me eating maybe 15-20 sausages. I’d get diarrhoea too!”

“Valid. What else?”

“He ate three bananas, peel and all, again by way of stealing. Then, when I wasn’t looking, he grabbed half of my cheese and onion sandwich, and ate all of that too.”

“What about the dodgy salmon?”

“Even he wouldn’t eat that!” Elain laughed. “He did eat a good heap of mash and gravy, a bread roll with butter, then proceeded to steal my sister Nesta’s steamed tofu,”

“Jesus Christ,” Azriel gasped in horror.

“Immediately spat it out,”

“Not blaming him at all. I’d spit it out too!”

“And then went to my father and cried fake pug tears to him because he was so upset that he stole and ate the wrong thing. Of course my father then had to feed him cheese and ham. As compensation of some kind. Emotional distress I am assuming?”

“My god I love him!” Azriel groaned. “I might have to steal him from you.”

“Well, then you’ll die,” she warned placidly. Azriel was laughing loudly now, considering her nonchalant tone. When he finally came to, he prodded,

“So?”

“I watched the game,” she confirmed. “You did well–one goal and two assists.”

“What about Pink?”

“Piglet watched it too. Now I can show him reruns of football games–he seems to enjoy watching things run.”

“And I am a thing that runs?” Azriel chuckled.

“You certainly are. You have incredible stamina,”

His mouth quirked and he crooned, “You have no idea…”

Elain gawked at him, and then realised what she had said, and rolled her eyes.

“You do remember, Mr. Night that I am not the one who is auditioning to be your potential wife?” She reminded him primly. “I am not the match. I am the matchmaker.”

“How can I forget? Unless you finally change your mind and just go for it,” he proposed. “You already know what you’d be signing up for with me. I have a pretty good idea about you as well. I don’t know why you are fighting this so hard?”

“Yes. I wonder why indeed.”

They were driving through the city and Piglet was panting with enjoyment, looking out the window.

Azriel gently rubbed the dog’s furry neck, relaxed against the back seat, manspreading widely. Elain threw inquisitive glances when she thought he wasn’t watching, and they mostly landed below his waist. As was his usual manner, Azriel let her look as much as she wanted. The car was big enough–even with his height and spread, there was plenty of space. So it was her choice to look, and it would be rude of him not to let her.

“I don’t want you to get so close to him,” Elain said suddenly.

Azriel looked at her quizzically.

“Piglet,” she clarified. “He is getting attached to you. He waits for you at the door,”

At that Azriel smiled, but Elain continued, 

“He thinks of you as a friend.”

“I am his friend,”

“But this is all temporary. You understand that, don’t you? Once you are matched with the right person, our relationship will end. And I don’t want Piglet to think that you’ll be around, coming to play with him or be present in his and my life,”

Azriel chewed the inside of his cheek for a long while, thinking about what she said.

“It doesn’t have to end,” he said at last.

Please don’t.

Don’t end it. 

“You are a client, Mr. Night,” Elain added, “I can’t imagine you’d have time for me once you are getting to know your future wife and getting married.”

“That’s it then?”

“Couple of months, maybe three, at most,” she confirmed. “That’s how long most of my associations with my clients last. One lasted a year, but that’s highly unusual. Besides, you are under a time constraint. I imagine that by January, we will be done.”

“I am sorry, but I disagree, Ms. Archeron,” Azriel said firmly. “Perhaps this is how things have gone before, but I cannot accept it. Let’s come up with a new agreement then…a new plan,”

“What sort of plan?”

“Something that would allow us to keep in touch beyond this initial agreement,”

“Like what?”

He shrugged, scrubbing his hand over his chin.

“Teach me manners?” he proposed. “Proper manners. Like a gentleman.”

Elain laughed, “I am not a miracle worker, Mr. Night. I am not sure I have the capability to do something like that.”

“You aren’t giving yourself enough credit. But for now, why don’t we just leave things as status quo. Three-four months is a long time. Lots of things could happen in that timeframe. Meanwhile, I’d like to keep meeting with you and Pinky.”

“Yes, I suppose,” she agreed, somewhat reluctantly.

“Do you not like me, Ms. Archeron?” he queried, no hesitation in his question.

“No, I wouldn’t say that,” she admitted. “But you are an usual client for me, and I struggle with reigning you in,”

“Perhaps you shouldn't try? And just let things be as they are?” he suggested. “Maybe I am not meant to be reigned in?”

“It’s beginning to look like that,” Elain sighed. “Now, where are we going? Why couldn’t we meet at my office?”

“Where is your sense of adventure?” he smiled. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Hmmm…Very, very marginally.”

“Aw, you wound me, Ms. Archeron! But I will take you to a place you’ll undoubtedly enjoy.”

Elain looked outside the window and suddenly felt Azriel’s large, heavy palm cover her hand. He was silent, but he threaded their fingers together and held her hand firmly in his.

She turned her head and breathed, ‘Mr. Night’.

He looked straight at her, his face emotionless as usual, but said just as softly ‘Ms. Archeron’. He almost dared her to say something, or tug her hand away from his, but he wouldn’t allow it, and just kept her in place. To her credit, she didn’t attempt to either.

Piglet turned his head and looked at them, assessing the hand-holding. Then, bouncing with a surplus of excitement, he jumped on Azriel, bucking and shimmying wildly, before rolling onto Elain’s lap, waiting for a belly scratch, and then slithering back on Azriel.

“See, he is on our side,” Azriel chuckled, scratching the supple rolls of fat on the pug. “He is team Elriel.”

“Team what?”

“Elriel,” 

“I don’t know what that means.”

“El–for Elain, and Riel for Azriel. Duh? Do I have to teach you everything?!”

“Where do you even come up with this nonsense?” she looked at him, perplexed.

“Elriel is not nonsense, Ms. Archeron. It’s our ship name. Pinky is the first shipper.”

“My god. You’ve read too many romance novels, Mr. Night.”

“Yeah, well, it gets boring on the road,” he shrugged. “So I read.”

“Romance novels?”

“Fantasy. Dark romance. Romantasy. Whatever.”

“Romantasy?”

“Are you judging me?”

“No, no. Not at all,” she shook her head, stifling a laugh.

They crossed the river, and Elain looked around, trying to figure out where they were going.

At last, she exclaimed, “Borough Market?”

“Nope,” he popped his lips.

“Where then?!” she whined.

“Patience.”

“I want the apple crisp!” she begged.

“You always seem to want some kind of apple crisp,” he teased. 

“It’s my favourite. This one has bruleed custard on top. It’s so goooddd,” she moaned.

“Maybe next time,” he promised, smiling to himself.

The appreciation that he had for Elain’s unabashed love for food and eating was hard to describe. All the other women he ever went out with insisted on salads, pretended like they weren’t hungry, opted for tofu and seaweed, and in general, avoided eating as much as possible. Elain was about tea, and custard, and cake, and hearty stews.

“We are here,” he said at last. The car parked and he went to open the door. Pinky hopped out first, and then Elain climbed out and threw her head back.

“We are going to the Shard?” she asked.

“We are!” He curled his arm offering it to her and she took it. 

Elain seemed surprised, but she followed him nevertheless, while Pinky stepped in front of them with his usual self importance, like he knew where he was going. Azriel could only dream of having this dog’s confidence!

The three of them took the lift up to Shangri-La hotel and were immediately greeted by an obsequious female hostess, who looked at Azriel like he was a dick-on-a-stick.

“Mr. Night, please follow me,” she flitted about, swaying her hips, as she paid no attention to Elain, and ushered them to a table in front of the windows, which overlooked the stunning vistas of London. It felt as if they sat right on top of Tower Bridge. Piglet plastered his face against the window, snorting with amazement. Whatever he was seeing, he was very impressed. 

“He is a support animal. We have all the documentation,” Azriel told the hostess, but she waved her hand at him.

“Of course, Mr. Night. That wouldn’t be a problem.”

“He is very well-behaved,” Azriel assured her, while observing Elain’s pinched little face. She wasn’t liking what was happening here.

Finally, the woman left, and Elain muttered, “Why even ask me for help? You have a ready-to-go wife right here. Wives on tap, I am sure.”

Azriel laughed at her.

“If I didn’t know you better, I would’ve thought that you were jealous, Ms. Archeron.”

“Jealous? Hardly,” she scoffed. 

“Phew, I was beginning to worry that you were developing feelings for me and my company,” he snickered. “Allow me,” he offered to take her trench–something the hostess should’ve done, but apparently, she was too star struck.

Elain unbelted and shrugged the coat off and Azriel looked her over with interest that he wasn’t even trying to hide. 

“Blimey,” he exhaled. 

Elain wore a form-fitting nude jumper and a knee-length skirt with brown and purple abstract pattern. Frankly, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the round pair of glorious tits that the jumper did all kinds of favours for. He even liked the one strand of fat pearls around her neck. 

“None. Don’t worry. But,” she looked around, “this is nice. Thank you, Mr. Night. I appreciate the thought. Imagine–I’ve never been here before. It’s been on the list of places to go, but we never could make it. So, thank you! I’ve just checked an item off my bucket list.”

“The pleasure is mine, Ms. Archeron,” he included his head. “Care to share what else is on your bucket list?”

“No,” she told him immediately, as she pulled out her IPad from her bag. “We are here to talk about you.”

He held the chair for her and she sat down.

“And here I thought that this Pink Afternoon Tea will thaw you a bit! Champagne at least?”

“I’ll have a glass,” she agreed graciously.

“You are not pregnant or anything like that, right?” he goaded her. 

She rolled her eyes and told him, “Not that I am not aware of.”

“So. There is someone in your life to get pregnant by?” he pressed.

“I’ll be asking you a series of questions,” Elain said, ignoring him and his probing. “Please answer truthfully. I am building your profile. There are no right or wrong answers.”

“May I tell you something meanwhile?”

“Sure.”

“You look sexy as fuck, matchmaker. It’s dangerous.”

She sucked in her breath and nervously picked at her pearls.

“Mr. Night…”

“Ms. Archeron. I see what I see.”

At that moment, their champagne was delivered, followed by waiters with the tea service. Elain exhaled a relieved breath. 

It looked spectacular–Reuben sandwiches, Truffle Egg and Cress, Smoked Salmon, Coronation Chicken–all done in various shades of pink. There were chicken liver parfaits, and tiny burgers. Pink scones, clotted cream and strawberry jam. And a variety of little architecturally-impressive pastries–a layer cake with pistachios and cherries, raspberry plum cake, something called shang mont rose, and the Pink Sphere. 

The Pink Afternoon Tea at the Shard (Shangri-La Hotel, London)

They even brought a bowl of water and a bowl of whipped cream for Piglet. 

“It’s beautiful. Almost too beautiful to eat,” Elain commented, inspecting all the offering.

“Almost,” Azriel raised his champagne flute. “But not quite. To us, Ms. Archeron. To our tenuous friendship. Maybe it will grow into something more.”

Elain glanced at him and whispered, “maybe,” before sipping her champagne.

“I won’t be able to train properly after all this,” Azriel commented, as he bit into one of the sandwiches, “but you only live once, yeah?”

“Your first concert?” Elain asked, looking down at her IPad.

Piglet already polished all the cream off, and was now snoring softly under the table. 

Azriel thought for a second, and said,

“Eminem. I was fourteen. Cass and I snuck out and slept outside all night, but we got in. It was incredible.”

She smiled and whispered, “that must have been amazing…”

“It really was.”

“Favourite movie?”

“Fight Club.”

“Favourite singer or band?”

“Led Zeppelin.”

“I could’ve guessed. You seem like the type.”

“Oh, and what type is that?”

“Old-fashioned, but rebellious.”

“What about you? Tay Tay? Adele?”

Elain wrinkled her nose.

“If we are talking singers, then it’s Amy Winehouse,” she said. “Band–it’s always the Rolling Stones.”

“Ahhh…well, that’s to be expected.”

“Why?”

“You like the classics.”

“Look at us, figuring each other out.” Her tone was vaguely sarcastic. Then she asked the next question, “First celebrity crush?”

Azriel took a while to think about that one, sipping his tea, and finishing up his little burger.

“Brad Pitt.”

“Oh?” Elain smiled. “Really?”

“He is a beautiful man. What can I say? In ‘Troy’ I think.”

“First thing you do when you wake up?”

“Think about football,” he told her instantly. “I am dedicated to my game, my team, my city. I work hard for what I do.”

“What was your dream job when you were young?”

“I didn’t think I’d have one at all,” he told her honestly. Elain didn’t know how to follow up on that statement. “Thought I’d be in a gang, or something. Maybe in prison. Maybe dead,”

“That’s…very grim,” she frowned.

“That’s the reality of those lads who I grew up with. My reality. I just happen to run well with a ball.”

“How do you think others view you?”

“They either like me or hate me. I am good looking, so some respond to that. Others cannot abide my character. I don’t care, to be honest. I only care about the opinions of very few people.”

“Who?” she asked quickly, though he suspected that it wasn’t part of the questionnaire.

“Cassian, I suppose. Rhys. My team. Coach. You.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

Elain hid her face behind her cup, aimlessly picking at her sandwich, but Azriel watched her closely. 

“You can’t ask questions like these and not expect uncomfortable answers,” he reminded her simply.

“Why me though?”

“For a posh, prissy bird, you are surprisingly accepting. I suppose I appreciate that, so I don’t want you to think of me…badly.”

“I don’t, you know.”

“I do. And that’s what’s so surprising. You are a nice sort of person.”

Elain adjusted her hair, trying to make herself comfortable, and asked,

“What do you not tolerate?”

“Disloyalty. Random cruelty.”

Her eyes fell on his scarred hands, while he spread some jam on his scone and popped it in his mouth. Despite the scars, his hands were attractive. Big and strong and sure.

“Where do you want to live?”

“London. It’s home. It understands me.”

“Biggest fear?”

He didn’t say anything for a while.

“I’ll tell you,” he drummed his fingers on the table, “but we say it together. You say yours, and I’ll say mine.”

“Mr. Night,” she began, but he interrupted her.

“No, Ms. Archeron. This is the way we do it. If you don’t like it, move on to the next questions.”

Elain sighed and murmured ‘fine’.

“On three then…One, two, three.”

Loneliness.

Both of them blurted the same word at the same time.

Loneliness. 

Elain stared at him. A little shocked. Azriel only chuckled. 

“Well then…”

He smiled again. 

“I might need more Champagne.”

“I'll ask lighter questions,” she promised quickly, not commenting on their shared fear.

“Please do, before I get black out drunk at Afternoon Tea at the Shard. Do they have whiskey here?”

“Mr. Night, you aren’t drinking whiskey!”

“Not yet. But I might soon. Are you eating your burger?”

“No. You can have it.”

She typed something in her notebook and he meanwhile ate her mini burger in two bites.

“Do you wear pyjamas to bed?” came the next question, and Azriel huffed at it.

“No. I sleep completely naked.”

She cleared her throat and went on,

“Boxers or briefs?”

Azriel grinned and leaned back in his chair, as was his manner when he got comfortable and amused. 

“Well, well…Boxer briefs, Ms. Archeron,” he answered with a wink. “I normally like everything to be tucked in there, and not flop in the wind.”

Elain snorted a laugh.

“You see,” he continued. “The Lord hath endowed me well in that region. There is much to hold in place. It’s like wrestling a python into my poor drawers every morning…”

“Oh, how tragic. It must be very difficult for you,” she mocked.

But Azriel didn’t miss the lovely blush that spread on her cheeks. 

“It is a struggle, but one that I accepted humbly. Wouldn’t be surprised if they could see it all the way in America. Makes our American cousins all kinds of edgy seeing a British cock in all its glory.”

“Oh my god,”

Leaning towards her, he whispered conspiratorially, “don’t tell Cassian. He gets a bit…competitive.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Elain promised.

“Hardly a secret. Anything else you’d like to know, matchmaker? Or see?”

“The most significant of your tattoos?” she hopped over his proposition just like that.

He rubbed his chest, and said, “A Churchill quote: It is the time to dare and endure.”

“Is that something that helps you?”

“Something to keep me grounded when things get tough. I also have this one,” he pointed to his forearm. “Arsenal crest. And a Union Jack on my shoulder.”

The next question was Azriel’s favourite. Elain asked,

“Maradona or Pele?”

“Diego Armando Maradona,” he said at once.

“Do you believe in god?”

“No.”

“Can you change a tyre?”

“Yes.”

“The first thing you look at in a woman?”

“Her gaze. Her look.”

“Have you ever been in love?” she asked quickly, without raising her eyes from the tablet.

“No. Never. Have you?” he asked quickly.

“This isn’t about me,”

“Answer the question,” he ordered.

“No, Mr. Night. I have not been in love. Do you want to marry?”

“Seems like I have to.”

“If you didn’t need to.”

“Marriage changes little, but if the woman wants it, then yes, I would marry.”

“And children? Would you like to have children?”

“Yes. Four.”

She glanced at him and repeated, “Four?”

“Yes. Four.”

“What do you know how to cook?”

“Steak. Only the best eggs you’ve ever eaten. Really good lamb stew. A bacon sandwich. You won’t go hungry with me, pretty matchmaker. Don’t worry.”

“Is this another proposal?”

“Always!” he grinned at her. “Now that you know everything about me, am I making a more appealing candidate?”

“I am sure that you are, for others. I am not looking for a husband, Mr. Night,” she reminded him dryly.

“Why hasn’t the ginger bloke closed the deal?” Azriel started on the pastries, popping one of them in his mouth whole. That solicited a frown from Elain, but he only smiled at her. “What’s he waiting for?”

“Why do you think it’s the man, and not me?”

“You are a fucking matchmaker, princess. Of course you wanna get married. Come on now,” he bubbled his lips. “It’s like saying I am a footballer, but I don’t want to win the Ballon D’Or. Of course I do. Probably no chance of it, but nevertheless, the dream is there.”

“Maybe, hypothetically, I want to get married. But it’s nothing and to no one specific,” she finally relented. 

“Well, that’s a start,” he smiled. “Anything else? What do you want to know? My favourite colour? It’s cobalt blue, by the way. Funny how you wore a skirt in that colour the first time we met. You think it’s a sign?” he winked at her.

“No. I do not.”

“You are so hard to impress,” he complained jokingly. “Tough little cookie. But I’ll break that hard exterior and will get to the soft, gooey inside, the delicious centre.”

“Mr. Night, please remember that ours is a professional relationship. You aren’t breaking me in or whatever it is you just said. It definitely sounded wholly inappropriate. 

“I, however, must ask you more personal questions…Which, honestly, I am dreading,” she added sombrely.

Azriel stretched his very long legs under the table and crossed them at the ankles, before lacing his fingers on his stomach and smiling like an asshole at her. 

“Come on then, pretty matchmaker. Bring it on! I won’t put the moves on you–unless you want me to–and I will behave,”

“Why am I doubting everything you just said?” she whispered with a heavy sight.

“Oh, don’t. Come on, ask away!”

“I preferred you when you were reluctant and a moody arsehole, like you were at our first meeting.”

“Oh, I am still that. Don’t worry. But I am making an effort here and want to make your life a bit easier.”

“How are you in bed, Mr. Night?” she blurted out. “Any specific preferences that a prospective match should know about? Dominant? Submissive? Rough? BDSM? Any fetishes? Any musts? Any hard limits? And how do you feel about fidelity?”

“Well, fuck me that’s a lot of questions! I think I will have that whiskey after all.”

They waited for his whiskey to be delivered and Azriel took a sip, smacking his lips with appreciation.

“You are a bad influence, Ms. Archeron,” he told her. “You make me want to live.”

She looked at him and his declaration with surprise.

“And you don’t live otherwise?”

“I dunno. With you, things seem…easier. Lighter? Like I don't have to worry about my form constantly, or think about the game, or training, or restrict myself. It’s nice, you know. It feels like there is more to the world, and to my life than what I am used to. I can have a drink, and have some pastries, and wear a suit…Not just trainers that sponsor me, or salads and leafy greens and lean protein.”

Elain smiled, “You sound like my sister Nesta. She is a dancer. She is very careful about what she eats,”

“Hence the tofu that makes Pinky sick.”

“Indeed.”

He resumed his position, with his hands on his stomach and then said,

“I am rough. As a lover.”

Elain stopped typing in her IPad and stared at him, clearly not expecting this nugget of info to drop on her lap.

“Rough?” she repeated at last. “As in…violent?”

He chuckled.

“Nah, I ain’t violent, pretty girl.”

“Mr. Night,” she snapped.

“Sorry, sorry. Ms. Archeron–where I come from, fucking is quick, hard, rough and unromantic. There ain’t no flickering candles, soft music, gauzy curtains,”

“I am impressed and a bit alarmed that you just used the word ‘gauzy’,” Elain commented.

“All, I’ve been hitting the dictionary every night. Picking up fancy words to impress you with!”

“You should be impressing your future matches,” she reminded him with a meaningful look, and he nodded in acquiescence. 

“Yeah, I remember. The matches.”

“So, you are rough,” Elain repeated. 

“Listen–on and off for a few years, I didn’t even have a place to sleep when I was a teen. Three months with one family, six weeks with another, four days with another…Stretches of time in between where Cass and me had to fend for ourselves. But you know…needs must and all. My dick was a teenage dick regardless of what my family situation was, so I had to get it where I could.”

Elain listened without commenting, her face expressionless. Azriel wasn’t sure if she was shocked, or repulsed, or judging him. That damn poker face of hers was on point.

“And where could I get it? Against the wall near the chippy, or on a park bench, or in a stairwell. That doesn’t bode well for lengthy sessions of tender lovemaking.

“So I go in pretty rough. I’ll make you come–a lady, I’ll make a lady come–but if she is looking for prim and proper that ain’t me.”

He scrubbed his hand over his face. 

“I ain’t mean, Ms. Archeron. I am an athlete–I am controlled and powerful. Before I took up football, I used to box. There wasn’t much else to do where we lived, and because Cass and I were so big, we joined the local church’s boxing club. It taught me how to control my strength, my physicality, and my size. There ain’t ever been a need to be physically rough with the girl. Why? What’s she gonna do against me, you know?”

“Anything else?”

“All that other stuff you’d mentioned–BDSM, dom and sub–I don’t have any interest in that. I don’t particularly like inflicting pain, especially not on women. But if you’d like me to spank you or tie you up, I’ll tie you up. Whatever you fancy, Ms. Archeron.”

Elain blushed violently and adorably, as she scrambled to pretend to type something.

“So you do like to be spanked?” he grinned at her. He knew that she was fake typing right now.

She squirmed in her chair, and woke up Piglet, when she poked him with her foot. He snorted his disappointment and then emerged from under the table and immediately looked at Azriel with a pleading gaze. 

“I saved you a sandwich,” Azriel chuckled, tearing a piece of the sandwich and feeding it to the pug. “Coronation chicken, no less.”

Piglet began chomping on the sandwich with delight, finding a kindred spirit in Azriel. 

“I am still waiting for an answer, Ms. Archeron,” Azriel teased. “Spanking? Tying up? Are you a dom? Or do you like to submit? And before you tell me that this is not about you, I’d still like to know.”

“Well, this is not about me,” she hissed.

Azriel cocked his head to the side and looked at her with a humoured look in his eyes, asking,

“Are you a virgin?” 

“For god’s sake, Mr. Night! Why are you asking me this?!” she demanded, scandalised.

“No shame in that,” he said lightly. “If you are, I mean. I am not judging.”

“Well, I am not, Mr. Night. I am a grown woman. And not a virgin. Are you the one who is going to be asking questions now?!”

“Yes, now I am kind of into it. What’s your favourite colour?”

“Pink!” she snapped.

“How about favourite food?”

“Sushi!”

“Cold raw fish–yum. But like I said before, no judgement.”

“Feels like judgement,”

“What else can I ask?”

“Nothing!”

“Do you find me handsome?”

“No!” she cried out.

“No? But I am a handsome footballer, what’s wrong with me?”

“Your gigantic ego.”

“Ego just corresponds to other parts of my anatomy,” he shrugged innocently.

“Oh lord. We are quite finished here, Mr. Night. I think we should get the bill.”

“I think I’d like another whiskey,” he argued.

“Well, you’ll be drinking it alone.”

“Naw…Pink is staying here with me. I am feeding him sandwiches and you know he ain’t going anywhere. Sit that pretty plump arse of yours down, Ms. Archeron. We’ll go soon enough.”

She pouted, but her traitorous dog was only proving Azriel correct, as he slurped his water and chewed on the sandwich that Azriel kept feeding him.

“My arse isn’t plump,” she muttered.

He glanced at her and smiled, “I’ll be the judge of that,” he decided. “Hope the ginger bloke appreciates your arse and worships it the way it deserves to be worshipped. It’s a hella nice coupla buns. Sorry and all…but I noticed,”

“No. More. Whiskey.” Elain ordered, wiping her brow. She was going to lose 10 kilos by the time all of this was going to be over. This man needed to be in some special institution. 

“I know what kind of a wife I want!” he suddenly declared, rubbing his hands excitedly.

“Oh you do, do you? Please tell. I am…well, scared, but also intrigued.”

“I want the kind of girl who kisses me at red lights.”

“That’s actually…kind of romantic,” Elain agreed, surprised. He made no sense this man, but he definitely kept her on her toes.

“Yeah, kind of like she can’t even wait to give me a hot and sloppy one. So she waits until we are at a red light and goes for it.”

Meanwhile, Piglet finished his sandwich and ambled towards the massive wall of windows, looking out with great interest. Because he was wearing his Burberry jacket, and now stood in front of a window overlooking the Gherkin, the Tower of London and the Tower Bridge, charmed tourists and other guests began pointing at him and oohing and ahhing with delight, completely awed by the stylish pug.

“They gonna start taking photos of him.” Azriel whispered to Elain, and she smiled, nodding, while she quickly snapped a pic of her own.

“Going on his Insta?” he joked, while the waiter brought another whiskey. Azriel figured that he might not be leaving here any time soon. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in god knows how long. 

“Obviously!” she tapped something quickly on her phone and in the next minute, showed it to him.

It was an amazing photo, considering that she barely even moved to take it–but Piglet looked like he was floating above the city, his expression pensive, his jacket on point, every landmark below him captured with crisp precision. 

Enjoying London Town #puginthesky #whenpugsfly #puglyfe

“How do you even come up with these so quickly?” he shook his head, but then quickly requested, “send it to me. I want to have it. Also, it’s a gorgeous pic!”

“Thank you.”

Elain reached for her bag and then withdrew a folder, which she lay on the table, between the two of them.

“What’s that?”

“Mr. Night, I wanted to mention this before we go further.”

“Sounds ominous,” he huffed.

“Are you currently…sexually active?”

He cocked his brow at her and chuckled, “what a question, Ms. Archeron! Why? Are you interested?”

She ignored the suggestive quip and said, “It’s just that it would be preferential if you maintain a certain amount of abstinence while being matched. You can certainly decide to engage in sexual relations with the match when the two if you are ready, but I would ask you to treat it as you would a normal relationship…”

“I’ve never been in a relationship,” he sipped his whiskey. “So I am no expert. But I think I can manage it.”

“You truly haven’t been in a relationship?”

“No. Not really.”

“And yet you can abstain?” she confirmed.

“Matchmaker,” he sighed, “I am almost 30, I have some self-control. It’s been a while since I’ve lost control over pussy,”

“Mr. Night!”

“Sorry, sexual relations. Listen, I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my youth. Nothing too terrible, but I should’ve done better. Now I am the Captain, and the younger lads look up at me. I want to do right by them, make sure that their careers don’t blow up, that they are careful with their money and the women that they are with. With us–you can get one injury, and it could be career ending. Everything you’ve been counting on, planning on, expecting, working for a decade towards–poof, gone! All because someone made a bad tackle, or you ran wrong, or a ligament snapped. And you are left with nothing, all the contracts and games and endorsements are gone just like that,” he snapped his fingers. “Everyone thinks they’ll be a Ronaldo, or a Messi, or a Zidane, but that’s untrue for most players. 

“So now, I feel a sense of responsibility. Look at me–I am an old fucker,” he laughed. “But it’s true. So yeah, I can abstain. When we travel, I don’t party all that much. After dinner, I usually go back to the hotel and play Candy Crush. Or read dark romances.”

At that, Elain giggled, “you do not read dark romances!” she argued.

“Yeah I fuckin’ do!” he insisted.

“Such a liar!”

“Telling you,”

“Okay, so what are you reading currently?” 

“Shantel Tessier’s ‘Carnage’,” he reported immediately. 

“What?”

“Yeah, it’s super smutty,” was the verdict.

“You do not read Shantel Tessier!” Elain gawked at him adorably, completely taken aback.

“You’d be incorrect. Listen, I had an injury a couple of years ago and was in rehab for two months. I was bored out of my mind. The nurse who was taking care of me got me hooked up on dark romances. I fuckin’ love that shite!” he admitted excitedly. “You ladies write some bloody crazy shit. Never read anything like that written by a man!”

Azriel glanced in Pinky’s direction and smiled widely. The pug was legitimately posing for photos and creating a mini stampede around him. He was even giving over the shoulder looks, not to mention all sorts of side and front poses, knowing exactly what needed to be done to gain the most reaction. 

“Hey mate, you can photograph him, but don’t touch him,” Azriel said protectively, when some guy wanted to pick the dog up. “He doesn’t like anyone but me and my girl touching him. He bites.”

Maybe the truth was stretched a bit, but whatever. It worked, because the bloke stepped back cautiously and didn’t attempt to touch the dog anymore.

‘I am not your girl,” Elain said quietly, crimping the napkin on her lap.

“No. But you could be. Nothing’s stopping you,” he said simply.

With that, Elain pushed the folder towards him and explained,

“Your first match”.

[scaranation]

༊*·˚ 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐒/𝐎

ft. Ayato, Diluc, Albedo, Zhongli

Content: Headcannons, fluff, slight cannon divergence in that I'm pretending Christmas exists in Teyvat

AYATO

Christmas with Ayato was always an elegant affair - with the man planning months ahead just to give you the perfect experience you deserved. A perfect blend of intimacy and lavishness, he would spare no expense when it came to you.

Despite his overwhelming duties as an Inazuman official, Ayato would never fail to observe whenever your eyes lingered on a product for too long, or if you brought up anything you wanted. He'd hand over a long list of things to order to Thoma, although he'd personally oversee the purchases themselves.

Before meeting you, Ayato had only glimpsed festive romances from afar - often catching sight of joyful couples lending each other scarves and browsing the stalls whilst he happened to be in the city for business. Although he used to convince himself his schedule would never allow for such experiences, he'd always held a hint of longing that one day, he'd be one of those carefree lovers enjoying their youth in the last few days of the year. And so, on the night of Christmas eve, Ayato would make you disguise yourself and head into the city with him - not as the commissioner and his wife, but simply as two ordinary lovestruck civilians.

The two of you would giggle under your hoods, although Ayato's habit of spending ubiquitously did cue in some suspicion from others. Nevertheless, nobody said anything as you enjoyed the evening with him - indulging yourselves in festive activities. You two would return to the Kamisato Estate with your stomachs full and your arms strung with bags of products the store owners had somehow swindled you into buying, cheeks flushed and lips spread in wide smiles. You can definitely expect late night dances in the courtyard with Ayato, breezing along underneath the starry skies as he held you in his arms and swayed gently. He'd be the type to become clingy when he was tired, and waltzing outside in that synapse between one day and the next seemed to provide him with great enjoyment. His sister may be the dancer, but having mastered the sword provided him with a certain grace. Despite this, the dance sessions would likely end with you two breathlessly laughing after you stepped on his toes one too many times.

You'd wake up to a breakfast Ayato made (with the help of Thoma, of course). Ayato would be the type to be uncharacteristically excited for gift opening, but it was undeniably because he simply wanted to see you smile. Regarding what you gave him, you'd likely resort to yourself to make or find something for Ayato. It felt as though any commercial item would be an insult to his wealth, and so you decided that something handicraft would be better. Ayato would watch you open your presents with glee - although he somehow seemed more happy than you were - before unwrapping his and pulling you in to kiss your forehead.

The day would end with the two of you having hot pot with Ayaka and Thoma - your laughs spilling late into the night as you (albeit slightly queasily) consumed bowl after bowl of the food. Ayato would watch you fall asleep on his shoulder, before carrying you to your shared bed - giving you one final kiss before closing his eyes and drifting off next to you.

DILUC

Spending Christmas at the Dawn Winery meant jovial days waking up to a pleasant chill and traipsing amongst the snow dusted lawns. Diluc had pushed all his duties aside to spend time with you in the days leading up to Christmas, waving away your concerns about his workload with a slight smile. As Dragonspine was only a short boat ride away, he would take you there to experience the snow - his typically stoic expression melting into a widespread grin as he watched you marvel at the scenery. He wasn't averse to snowball fights, either, despite the initial confusion he'd exhibited when you'd thrown a clump of snow at him.

The maids would often marvel at how they'd never seen Diluc look so happy before, before tutting at the mess the two of you made when you would often return to the manor covered in snow. Diluc had been forced to grow up a little quicker than was necessary due to his past, but spending times like these with you brought out the juvenile humour he'd had to suppress. You'd fondly pinch his reddened cheeks, although whether they were flushed from the cold or other factors remained a mystery.

Each day would end indoors in front of a crackling fire - snow dancing across the window panes outside and hot cocoa clutched in your hands, a blanket draped over your legs. Diluc is the type to prefer quiet, domestic affection - usually having his head resting against yours, or pulling you to lean into his chest. On those warm nights, the two of you would either read silently or talk - although sitting in quiet reminiscence was never uncomfortable.

In terms of a Christmas tree, Diluc would bring in the largest one he could find - and depending on your temperament, he’d either have a maid decorate it or spend his time hanging up baubles with you. Diluc wasn’t particularly one for aesthetics, so he didn’t mind what the tree looked like - rather, his favourite sight was that of the Christmas lights dancing in your widened eyes.

It’s no secret that Diluc is exceptionally wealthy. Hence, you could expect many presents from him - accompanied by rather crudely drawn cards. He wasn’t an artistic man, but it was evident he’d placed much care into writing and making those messages. If you laughed at his cards, he’d turn his face in embarrassment - refusing to look back until you reassure him.

Diluc would be the type to be happy with whatever gift you gave him - rather, the thing that pleased him the most was merely being with you and seeing you happy. He’d treasure anything you give him - a set of new gloves? You can expect him to wear them until they start to fray. A fountain pen? It’d occupy the most prominent position on his study desk and be the one he used to sign important documents. No matter what he received from you, Diluc would genuinely hold it close to him.

ALBEDO

The idea of Christmas would be relatively new to Albedo, although he’s more than willing to indulge in such human festivities - even if it was merely for your sake.

The poor man would likely overthink the whole ordeal and research deeply into the traditions and culture of the celebration - after all, if you were the one who’d made him feel an inherently human love, then he would be obligated to return the favour and make you happy.

Should you ever propose the idea of kissing under mistletoe, Albedo’s typically calm composure would break for a second - his pale cheeks tinted with colour, cerulean eyes darting to yours in disbelief. Don’t worry, he’s not disagreeing with the notion - he’s merely processing the shock of it.

Albedo would be the type to deem a Christmas tree unnecessary - after all, he was surrounded by firs in Dragonspine all the time, what use would one tree have? However, if you’re keen to have one, he’d alchemically create the perfect Christmas tree for you - one that never withered or shed leaves.

Mutual, reciprocal exchange was what Albedo understood gift giving to be. And he would probably stress out over it. How could he possibly repay all the things you’d done for him in material format? What if you didn’t like his gift? The alchemist would spend a long time deliberating, before pouring his time and energy into creating the perfect present. Your gift would certainly be one of a kind, given that Albedo would definitely craft it to suit you exactly.

When he receives his present, Albedo merely smiles - he’d undoubtedly be grateful no matter what he got, but he just had trouble expressing it. He’d be the type to sit there, staring numbly (in satisfaction) at his present, a small smile gracing his lips.

ZHONGLI

The former archon had experienced many festivities in his years, but the Christmas he’d spend with you would be his first as a mortal. As a very sentimental person, Zhongli would want to indulge in the pleasantries of being a young, lovestruck couple in December - taking you for regular strolls around the harbour to enjoy the bustling atmosphere.

A faint scent of tea wafts through your shared home as you enjoy languid afternoons warming your hands with your cup as Zhongli shared stories about his days as an archon. He'd taken leave from the funeral parlour, and when you weren't at home or in the bustling Liyue marketplaces, the two of you would be strolling amongst the natural scenery of the nation. Liyue was rarely subjected to snowy weather, but the days were more chilly nontheless. Zhongli would often lend you his coat on longer walks, prioritising your comfort and enjoyment above all else.

Zhongli often forgets his wallet, and you’re unsure of how he managed to pull together such a lavish arrangement for both your gifts and the Christmas tree - but it’s clear he’s organised the ordeal to perfection. He somehow seems to know you better than you know yourself, and his presents never fail to make you gasp in delight. The boxes were always carefully presented to the point you almost felt guilty for tearing the wrapping paper - Zhongli's skills in gift wrapping turned the activity into an art form. He's the type to carefully read your expression and begin mulling over what gifts he'd get you the following Christmas based on your reactions.

Your Christmas tree would be strung with gleaming red and gold, given that Zhongli had a fine taste when it came to aesthetics. He'd personally arrange the tree with you, ensuring that it looked perfect. He'd hold you up as you placed a bauble in a particularly high spot - holding you firmly as you hooked the decoration around a branch.

Although the man continually insists that you spending time with him was enough of a gift - after all, his love language was very clearly quality time - you still bought Zhongli things you thought he'd like. You opted for an ornate piece of cor lapis and a historical artefact, but your hopes of impressing your lover were quickly diminished when he exposed the products' faults with a light chuckle. Gift shopping for a god was difficult, but Zhongli would be quick to pull you into his arms and murmur that you were more valuable than any gleaming ore he'd seen.

[memedrome]

Wardrobe Meme

Send me one for details about what my muse likes to wear!

[ Head ] What kind of hats or hair accessories does your muse prefer? Are there any favorite colors, motives, or brands? If they're long-haired, is there any specific way they like to style their hair? [ Neck ] Do they wear scarves? Necklaces? Any brands or colors they prefer? Gold, silver, or anything else? [ Torso ] What kind of tops does your muse prefer? Shirts? Sweaters? Elegant or casual? Also, are there any favorite colors, motives, or brands? [ Waist ] Do they wear belts? What style and material? [ Wrists ] Do they wear a watch? Bracelets? Wristbands? Any preferences in colors, motives, brands, or style? [ Ears ] Do they wear headphones? Ear mufflers? Earrings? [ Legs ] What kind of pants/skirts does your muse prefer? Baggy? Skinny? Short or long? Also, are there any favorite colors or motives? [ Feet ] What kind of shoes does your muse prefer? Elegant, sporty or casual? Also, are there any favorite colors, motives, or brands? Or do they prefer going barefoot? [ Accessories ] Are there general accessories like shades, handbags, backpacks, or jewelry they like to wear? What are their preferences?

[octo-hyacinth]

Sweater Weather

Characters: Jade Leech

Content Warnings: Fluff, Jade being a tiny bit of a little shit but it’s out of love, VERY self-indulgent

A/N: Using the prompts “Sweater Weather” and maybe a few others from the October Prompt post i reblogged a while back, I’m in a Jade mood ok. Like i said this was self-indulgent so if you dont like it, cope

The wind brought a biting chill across the campus, making students raise their scarves and wrap their jackets around themselves a little tighter. The trees rustled lightly, but leaves were already drifting to the ground, having turned the green grass a multicolored canvas of reds and oranges. It was October, and though talk and preparations for Halloween were already happening, today Jade decided to take a day off with his favorite Prefect.

He pulled the sleeves down on his cream-colored sweater, and smoothed his hair down in the living room of Ramshackle as he waited for you to finish finding a suitable outfit to combat the chill. Perhaps this sweater shrunk a bit too much in the wash, as he found the cuffs frequently liked to slide back enough to expose his wrists. Oh well, it’d have to do for today. His white gloves would do well to shelter his hands from the wind, but he would gladly let you borrow them if need be.

After a few minutes, you strode down the steps from your room down to the lobby, showing off a soft-looking jacket of your favorite color over an elegant gray turtleneck. You’d also gotten a nice beanie to shield your ears from the wind, as well.

Jade was not one to show his emotions frequently, but you always seemed to make him more emotional than he could ever expect. His eyes widened just a fraction as he took in your lovely outfit.

“My, you look quite ready for an adventure in the woods.” He politely smiled, and reached out his hand for you to take. “I’d almost feel underdressed, had I not been accustomed to the cold already.”

“Oh, whatever. You don’t look too bad yourself, Jade.” You grinned.

“You flatter me, dearest.” He raised your hand to his lips to press a soft kiss to your knuckles, then stroked his thumb over them almost absentmindedly. “If you wish to borrow my gloves, you need only say the word. Your skin feels rather chilly.”

You smiled fondly at how gentle and considerate he was being. “No, it’s fine. Besides, your gloves are like, one of your most defining features, I don’t wanna take ‘em away, even if we’re just going for a short walk.”

“As you wish.” With that, he let you lead the way to Ramshackle’s front door. When you opened it, the wind blasted back both you and Jade’s hair immediately, causing him to laugh a little at how your hair was getting whipped to and fro.

“Don’t you laugh at me,” you huffed. “Your hair looks just as bad. At least I have a beanie.”

“Does it now?” Jade gave a small indulgent smirk. “Then why don’t you fix it?”

“Maybe I will. Lean down a bit for me.”

He obliged, and you smoothed down the top of his head until it less resembled Floyd’s messy hair, but you let your hand slip down to caress Jade’s cheek, and you caught him leaning into your hand almost imperceptibly, humming in contentment with his eyes sliding shut.

“Your hand is quite warm, you know.” He lifted his own significantly larger hand to cover yours, as if he wanted to absorb all the heat from your skin that he could.

“Is it? Probably won’t be once we’ve been out in the cold a few minutes.” You tried gently prying your hand away from his cold skin, but he held you in place, and stared at you with sharp, bright eyes once you kept resisting.

“And where do you think you’re going? I’m so cold, would you really deprive me of a heat source in this horrendously chilly weather?” He put on a clearly fake pout, like he was trying to guilt you into staying right here until he sucked all the warmth out of your skin.

“Your acting’s getting worse. I don’t buy that for a second, you’re perfectly fine.” You yanked your hand away before he could grip it any tighter, and sighed, but you were smiling still. Such a clingy eel when he wanted to be. “Now did you want to explore the forest or not?”

“Of course, my love.” He stood up straight, and held out his arm for you to hold, like the gentleman he always seemed to be. A warm, genuine smile graced his features that you swore could fend off the cold any day. “As always, you see right through me. I’m almost scared at how well you know me sometimes.” He didn’t look very scared at all.

He truly did love the way you could keep up with him, the way you were never intimidated by him, by how you could banter with him and expose him when he was hiding his true intentions.

“Then let’s go already.” You jabbed him in the side, and started dragging him by the arm to the outskirts of Night Raven.

The only true purpose of this walk was to spend some time with Jade, however that walk may turn out, since he so rarely got days off to spend with you. So now you and him were meandering through the forest around Night Raven, enjoying nature and basking in the change of scenery and pace it brought.

Because of the wind, you saw bunches of leaves fall to the ground here and there, and there were quite a few large piles of them already on the ground. You couldn’t help but jump in them, and enjoy the crunchy sound they made with every step. You giggled with every step in the leaves that made that satisfying crunch, and almost pouted when one of the steps wasn’t satisfactory enough.

“I hate to interrupt the fun you seem to be having, but what are you doing?” Jade gently asked.

You froze, and slowly turned your head to look at him, realizing how embarrassing and childish jumping in leaves might have looked to him. You had an expression resembling a deer caught in headlights.

“Umm… they’re crunchy?”

Jade took a second to process your answer, clearly trying to come up with a logical explanation for it, but simply settled on a small smile.

“I see. And what makes the crunch so satisfying, I wonder?” He stepped closer, and bent over just a few inches to inspect the leaves, curiously holding his chin. “You must understand, we didn’t have these in the Coral Sea, so I must say I’m not quite accustomed to the appeal of autumn leaves.”

You simply shrugged, a childish smile resuming on your face once you realized he was just curious. “I dunno what makes them so nice, I just like the sound it makes and how it feels.” You jumped on another hefty pile of dry leaves to accentuate your point.

“Fascinating.” Jade stood up straight again, and it was only then you noticed a leaf had drifted right onto his head, and he must not have noticed.

You couldn’t hold back a small snort, which made Jade’s attention snap straight to your face. He had quite the bewildered expression actually, eyes slightly widened. Why could you possibly be laughing at him?

“Is something the matter, my love?” He asked evenly, but his surprise was still evident.

It was impossible to hold back a smile. It was just unexpected to ever see Jade, someone who always was so clean and put together, with not a crease on his suit or a hair out of place, suddenly be seen with a whole leaf resting on his hair.

“It’s just— Okay, stay still. Maybe bend down a bit, you got something in your hair.” The grin was very evident in your voice, but despite his curiosity, he complied without questions. Once you snatched the leaf off, you waved it in front of his face. “Guess what I found.”

He stared at the leaf, seemingly at a loss for only a split second before he gave an amused chuckle. “How interesting. You have my thanks for removing it.”

“Yeah, of course. Though you looked pretty cute with it stuck in your hair.” You grinned cheekily.

He smiled in return, flashing a bit of his teeth. “Oh? Is that so? Maybe I should walk under trees more often.”

You merely laughed, and nudged his hand with your own to interlock your fingers. “Then come on, we’ve still got plenty of forest to walk through. Maybe we’ll both get a shot at it.” You tugged at his arm, leading him down the winding path of treaded dirt and colorful leaves.

Even though it was cold outside, it seemed like the whole world felt warmer with Jade by your side.

[xsulsulnooboo]

Sims ideas created by me with the help of ChatGPT

Feel free to use this and show me your sims when they're done _______________________________________

1. Lilith Nocturne (Vampire Witch)

• Traits: Evil, Genius, Loner

• Aspiration: Master Vampire

• Occult: Vampire

• Clothing Style: Victorian Gothic, dark corsets, long flowing black skirts, lace gloves, and high boots. Think dark elegance, with silver and red accents.

• Backstory: Lilith is an ancient vampire who secretly dabbles in dark magic. She seeks to master both vampirism and forbidden witchcraft to dominate the supernatural world.

2. Mortis Grimes (Undead Revenant)

• Traits: Mean, Gloomy, Hot-Headed

• Aspiration: Public Enemy

• Occult: Ghost (resurrected)

• Clothing Style: Ragged, old-fashioned clothing, torn and weathered. Always in shades of grey and brown as if he's crawled out of the grave. Wears broken chains and tattered formal wear.

• Backstory: Mortis was buried alive centuries ago, and now he's back from the dead, seeking revenge on those who wronged him, even though their descendants have no idea.

3. Selena Shade (Possessed Doll)

• Traits: Insane, Materialistic, Childish

• Aspiration: Fabulously Wealthy (because dolls love to be adored)

• Occult: Not an official occult type but behaves like a possessed object

• Clothing Style: Dresses like an antique porcelain doll: frilly dresses, bows, ribbons, and patent leather shoes, all in faded pastel colors.

• Backstory: Selena was a beloved childhood doll, but her owner cast a forbidden spell, trapping her spirit in the toy forever. Now Selena haunts households, yearning for attention.

4. Sable Morgana (Dark Fae)

• Traits: Erratic, Self-Absorbed, Kleptomaniac

• Aspiration: Chief of Mischief

• Occult: Spellcaster

• Clothing Style: Mystical and ethereal, but with a sinister twist. Think flower crowns with thorny vines, tattered faerie wings, dark flowing robes mixed with intricate jewelry and face paint.

• Backstory: Sable is a dark faerie who was banished from her realm. She thrives on chaos, and her mischief often turns deadly. She's obsessed with causing misery in the mortal world.

5. Edgar Blackthorn (Mad Scientist)

• Traits: Genius, Insane, Paranoid

• Aspiration: Nerd Brain

• Occult: Human

• Clothing Style: Lab coats, goggles, and slightly singed Victorian-inspired scientist attire. Wears gloves and carries strange mechanical gadgets.

• Backstory: Edgar once worked on government secret projects but was exiled for conducting unethical experiments. Now, he conducts experiments in his basement, dreaming of creating life-or ending it.

6. Vespera Nightshade (Living Nightmare)

• Traits: Evil, Noncommittal, Loves the Outdoors

• Aspiration: Soulmate (twisted goal: she wants a partner to consume their soul)

• Occult: Custom-shadow demon/creature of nightmares

• Clothing Style: Long black cloaks, velvet dresses, always barefoot with smoky or fog-like aura around her. Dark purple and black dominate her wardrobe.

• Backstory: Vespera is a creature that feeds on fear. Every night she haunts the dreams of her chosen victims, slowly driving them mad. She's looking for a "lover" to torment for eternity.

7. Isaac Morrow (Cursed Musician)

• Traits: Creative, Gloomy, Perfectionist

• Aspiration: Musical Genius

• Occult: Human (cursed)

• Clothing Style: Formal, 19th-century concert attire. Old, decayed tuxedos with a ghostly pallor to his appearance. He always carries a violin.

• Backstory: Isaac was once a celebrated violinist but made a dark pact to ensure his talent. Now, he is cursed to play endlessly, never satisfied with his work, driving others to despair with his haunting melodies.

8. Ophelia Graves (Witch of the Moors)

• Traits: Loner, Jealous, Brooding

• Aspiration: Spellcraft and Sorcery

• Occult: Spellcaster

• Clothing Style: Long black robes, tattered scarves, and ancient relics. Always barefoot with disheveled hair and muddy hems. She wears necklaces made of animal bones.

• Backstory: Ophelia lives deep in the moors, feared by the townsfolk who call her a witch. She practices necromancy, longing to raise her lost lover from the dead.

9. Victor Revenant (Living Dollmaker)

• Traits: Loner, Creative, Evil

• Aspiration: Master Maker

• Occult: Human (with dark magic)

• Clothing Style: Victorian, leather aprons over classic gothic suits. Always carries tools and looks slightly unkempt, with blood-stained gloves.

• Backstory: Victor is obsessed with making life-sized dolls that are "too lifelike." Some whisper that these dolls are people who crossed him, enchanted into eternal silence.

10. Eira Frost (Ice Queen)

• Traits: Self-Assured, Evil, Loner

• Aspiration: Freelance Botanist (but she kills plants instead)

• Occult: Custom-spirit of winter

• Clothing Style: Ice blue dresses, sparkling tiaras, and crystal jewelry. Her clothing seems to shimmer with frost, and her skin has a cold, blueish hue.

• Backstory: Eira was once the spirit of winter who brought beauty to the land, but after being betrayed by her lover, she became cold and vengeful, freezing everything and everyone who crosses her path.

[boombrothersasks]

Amy, do you think you can teach Eclipse how to make a scarf?

"Sure I can! This is about getting a scarf for Shadow, isn't it?"

"Yeah! How'd you know?" Eclipse's head tilt slightly.

"He won't say it out loud, but he loves them. He has like...one for every season. ...Except winter, ironically."

"So that's what he's always wearing the stupid plain one for?"

"That's his everyday scarf."

"What? But...didn't you just say-"

"He's shown up to random events with the scarves. But he always leaves! One time he really just showed up to go to Sonic, tell him their next fight would be 'on his terms,' and we didn't see him again after that!"

"Yeah, that sounds like Shadow..."

"I can teach you how to do this, but you gotta know something. It'll take a lot of patience, elegance, and-"

"Can we move this along? I like talking to you, Amy, but this is veeeeery important!"

...

"I need to fix you. With knitting."

"Please don't??"

[arizamzam]

Simple and Elegant Hijab Styles for Young Women: A Comprehensive Gui

Hijab, a symbol of modesty and faith, has become an integral part of many young women's wardrobes. However, styling a hijab in a way that is both simple and elegant can be a challenge. This comprehensive guide will provide you with all the tips and tricks you need to achieve a simple and elegant hijab style that will make you feel confident and beautiful.

**Choosing the Right Hijab**

The first step to achieving a simple and elegant hijab style is to choose the right hijab. Here are a few things to keep in mind:

* **Material:** Opt for hijabs made from comfortable and non-transparent materials, such as cotton, silk, or chiffon.

* **Size:** Choose a hijab that is the right size for your head and neck. It should not be too loose or too tight.

* **Color:** Select a hijab color that complements your skin tone and outfit. Neutral colors, such as black, white, and gray, are always a good choice.

* **Shape:** There are many different hijab shapes to choose from, such as square, rectangular, and triangular. Experiment with different shapes to find the one that best suits your face shape.

**Styling Your Hijab**

Once you have chosen the right hijab, it's time to style it. Here are a few simple and elegant hijab styles to try:

* **Classic Drape:** This is the most basic hijab style. Simply drape the hijab over your head and secure it under your chin with a pin.

* **Twisted Turban:** This style is slightly more elaborate than the classic drape. Twist the hijab in the middle and wrap it around your head, securing it with a pin at the back.

* **Side Drape:** This style is perfect for showing off a beautiful neckline. Drape the hijab over your head and bring one end to the side, securing it with a pin.

* **Bun Wrap:** This style is perfect for creating a chic and sophisticated look. Pull your hair into a bun and wrap the hijab around your head, securing it with pins at the back.

**Accessorizing Your Hijab**

Accessories can add a touch of personality to your hijab style. Here are a few tips for accessorizing your hijab:

* **Brooches:** Brooches are a great way to add a touch of sparkle or color to your hijab. Pin a brooch to the side of your hijab or under your chin.

* **Headbands:** Headbands can help to keep your hijab in place and add a touch of style. Choose a headband that complements the color and style of your hijab.

* **Scarves:** Scarves can be used to add a pop of color or pattern to your hijab. Wrap a scarf around your head over your hijab or use it to create a turban style.

**Tips for Maintaining a Simple and Elegant Hijab Style**

* **Keep your hijab clean and pressed.** A clean and pressed hijab will always look more elegant than a wrinkled one.

* **Avoid using too many accessories.** Too many accessories can make your hijab style look cluttered and messy.

* **Experiment with different hijab styles.** Don't be afraid to try different hijab styles until you find one that you love.

* **Be confident.** The most important thing is to be confident in your hijab style. When you feel good about yourself, it will show in your appearance.

**Conclusion**

By following the tips and tricks in this guide, you can achieve a simple and elegant hijab style that will make you feel confident and beautiful. Remember, the key is to find a style that suits your personality and lifestyle. With a little practice, you'll be able to create a hijab style that is both simple and elegant.

[icembrace]

⊠    ɪᴅ  .  .  .  ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ    ››    [    pat chayanit    /      32    /    cis  woman    /    she/her    ]   mercy  headquarters  is  pleased  to  officially  introduce  𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐎.  they  have  been  apart  of  the  organization  for  twelve years ,  serving  as  𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃 agent  and  has  been  assigned  the  codename  𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐋𝐓 it's  worth  noting  that  their  file  indicates  they  have  undergone  the  solaris  treatment  and  host 𝐈𝐂𝐄  𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍  according  to  our  dossier,  the  agent  exhibits  a  combination  of  𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓  and  𝐄𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄  traits,  fitting  for  someone  reminiscent  of  natasha  romanoff & emma  frost.  prior  to  embarking  on  any  mission,  the  find  solace  in  listening  to  the  song  “i don’t wanna be me“  by  𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄 0 𝐍𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄.  

𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃 .

full name : cipriana lamai cao . nicknames : none, don't try . occupation : field agent . age : thirty - two . place of birth : new york city, new york . gender : cis woman . languages : mandarin chinese, thai, english, russian, polish, lithuanian, japanese, korean & spanish . ethnicity : chinese and thai. religion : tba . date of birth : 30.12.2016 . zodiac : capricorn . chinese zodiac : monkey

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 .

height : 169 cm . build : slender . eye colour : brown . hair colour : naturally black , but prone to change depending on her mission. most notably, she used to be blonde . hair style : usually kept long and straight . scars : earned a scar on her neck on her most recent mission and was wearing lots of silk scarves and turtlenecks to cover it up . managed to remove it thanks to a cosmetical procedure. distinguishing features : her lips , more specifically, her cupid's bow . scent : amber, leather & rose clothing style : elegant on most occasions, more practical during missions, in shades of black and predominantly white , with occasional inclusion of other colours.

𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 .

character parallels : natasha romanoff ( marvel ) , emma frost ( marvel ) , the girl ( a girl walks home alone at night ) , nora ( past lives ) . moral alignment : chaotic neutral . personality type : istp. emotional stability: in need of improvement . element : fire . character tropes : color motif, dark action girl, i don't pay you to think , the paragon, with my hands tied, more than meets the eye .

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 .

father : james cao . mother : lauren saengarun . siblings : none. spouse(s) : duncan lawrence ( divorced ) , lev lebedev ( divorced ). children : none. pets : none .

𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 . tw: torture.

¹. the caos were wall street royalty of the 80s, 90s and 00s, an entire generation of bankers, loan processors and hedge fund managers — sovereigns, lacking only a gilded crown, who ruled the worldwide market with an iron fist. then, came cipriana, the only child of james cao and his much-beloved wife lauren with pin curls in her head and pearls around her neck, inheriting only half of her mother's beauty but none of her mellow nature. for all his brilliance and adroitness, james cao could never get along with his daughter — she was excessively this, and overly that, and yet never quite enough. so most of her childhood, cipriana had spent in her mother's embrace, lost between continents, raised in new york during winters, but beijing and bangkok during long, sweltering summers.

². boarding schools, well-paid and carefully chosen private tutors and instructors, suitcases in her hands — these are her recollections of her teenhood. she was always leaving. from the age of eight to nearly sixteen, she was enrolled in institut le rosey in switzerald, where she grew only more defiant over the years. her nonpareil academic achievements and artifice, however, did not aid her in reaching the impossibly high standards her father had set for her. james cao could no longer tolerate his daughter, deciding thus to cast her aside and take away her inheritance — and in turn, cipriana promised to give herself the world.

³. despite the sudden severance from her family, cipriana still found herself at princeton, using her eruditeness, excellent records as well as her family name to secure a spot at such a prestigious university. there, she was subsequently discovered and recruited by one of mercy's special agents. at the age of twenty, she officially began her training as a junior agent, graduating a mere two and a half years later. officially a field agent, fresh-faced, and irrevocably determined, she decided to undergo the solaris treatment — but the process did not go without a hitch. it took longer than expected for her power to surface, which only made cipriana overcompensate in other departments, more specifically combat.

⁴. cipriana spent her early and mid-twenties on the field, all across the country while partaking in numerous missions. the agency loved just how easily she could adapt to her new identities and extract information, singing her praises while simultaneously destroying what little identity she had left. at twenty-six, she married for the first time, on a whim, because it felt like the only thing she wanted, desperate for something or someone to return to — but it didn't last. he deserved someone better. someone who could give him more. she filed for divorce within the same year, and a month after her divorce, she was deployed for an overseas mission.

⁵. with a new narrative, her hair bleached and still smelling of ammonium hydroxide and a forged passport in her hands, she made her way to warsaw, poland. she lived under various names,most notably, anielka song, danute garsva, and sunisa shinawatra. she was stationed in poland for half a year and the other half she spent in lithuania. then came russia, an additional two years of covert and clandestine operations. after russia, she was led to thailand, a place that should've been familiar terrain. all was well up until the moment she was caught and captured, and thereupon tortured. they didn't manage to extract any information, but the psychological and physical damage they had done was severe. the lack of access to solaris drug was one of the reasons behind her failure. she was eventually found by her mission partners, and the transgressors were convicted, but to cipriana it felt like a pyrrhic victory. mercy, however, did not agree and labeled her as a 'hero' instead.

⁶. after five years deep undercover, cipriana's finally made her way back to apex city. she passed all her tests — and is still suited for a field agent, but some would beg to disagree for the sake of her health. she conceals her issues well, from struggles with her identity or rather the lack of it, to short-term memory lapses that started after thailand. it's a tale of a girl who's spent her entire life leaving. always leaves first so she isn't left behind. leaving for cipriana is an art.

𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀 .

has only been around for the last couple of months — as she spent five years undercover in eastern europe, baltic countries, and asia. her whereabouts and coordinates were classified as confidential. feels like an utter stranger after living for so long away from apex city.

a former gymnast. unlike most children, she did not partake in regular sports but rather found solace in gymnastics. she won several gold medals when she was younger but ultimately hated competing.

trained and skilled in many forms of martial arts, including: judo, karate, savate, aikido, muay thai and brazilian jiu-jitsu. basically, her skills and combat style are heavily inspired by natasha romanoff.

married for the second time while she was undercover. she met lev in st. petersburg but married him in pattaya city. it was another reckless decision, a byproduct of her loneliness in a foreign country. she divorced him after a year.

'she wore white (shoes)' — a code phrase that was exclusively associated with cipriana. so while she didn't always wear white attires, her shoes were distinctly white.

she learned mandarin from her father and thai from her mother — english was simply the middle ground in their household. she picked up japanese and korean while in boarding school as it was required of her to study at least two foreign languages. she was tutored in spanish at home at the behest of her mother, and she learned russian, polish and lithuanian while at mercy.

has perpetually cold hands and does not shy away from cold weather. catch her out in the snow with just a shirt on.

𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐒 . i intend to make a proper page with more than just three plots, but for now, here's something.

i. due to the fact that she's been away for a while, cipriana assumes that most don't remember her. this person, however, never forgot about her, and are hoping to rekindle the closeness that they shared. linger in my life for just a little longer - type of deal. do you think if i dye my hair black again we could get our old friendship back? ii. a person who was constantly bested by cipriana while she was still around and considered her a rival. no matter how much they tried, she was always better. when she left, they finally seized their victory. now that she's back, will old fires find a way to burn again?iii. a newfound friendship that's mostly based on them practicing and testing their combat skills together. when she pins them down to the floor, only one question remains — 'are we still friends, yes?'

[hantengus-clones]

Today an image came to my head regarding their respective colors with the Hogwarts houses and honestly, I feel that each one fits like a glove, and while I am explaining (Shows a paper bag) I will place them some scarves inside this bag (winks at them)

Let's start with Sekido, surely you will get angry and insult me ​​for what I do, so excuse me (He takes out a scarf that represents Gryffindor while explaining) Sekido would be a Gryffindor because of his red color, and I think he fits perfectly with you, since this house represents leadership, being that you yourself take the lead with the other clones. It also represents strength, a characteristic to which you aspire a lot ❤️.

(He goes to Karaku, and repeats the same action he did with Sekido, but with a Slytherin scarf) Karaku, you would be a member of the Slytherin house, because of the green color you represent. This house perfectly with you, since like its representative animal; the snake, you attack everywhere and without any compassion, ready to draw poison with your opponents. Also, your mischievous personality is slippery like that animal 💚.

(Goes to Aizetsu, placing the Ravenclaw scarf around his neck) Aizetsu represents blue, just like Ravenclaw house. This house is perfect for you, since blue can symbolize sadness, but not only that feeling, the members of this house stand out for their intelligence and calm, when fighting you show calm and analysis to the enemy, as it does a Ravenclaw casting his magic, plus blue also symbolizes calm 💙.

And finally, to my dear Urogi (begins to gently and elegantly roll up a Hufflepuff scarf) You would come as a member of Hufflepuff house, because you represent the color yellow. Yellow is the representation of joy and jubilation, since you are the representative clone of that emotion, in addition to the fact that in that house, they are usually considered quite cheerful and charismatic, as is your beautiful essence (After finishing with his explanation, looks into his eyes, full of admiration and tenderness) 💛.

Oh, by the way, a few years ago I took my official Hogwarts house test and I'm... (He takes a Hufflepuff scarf out of the bag) Hufflepuff! (She rolls it up with elegance and coquetry in front of Urogi) 🩷.

And good? What do you think of my opinion regarding which Hogwarts house each one would belong to just by relating them to their representative color? Opinions and criticisms are accepted 😉.

(Raises an eyebrow, looking at the person with a mix of confusion and annoyance, scoffing dismissively.)

Gryffindor? What in the world are you blabbering about? Some childish house from a fantasy world has absolutely no relevance in the real world. I have no interest in playing some doll house or whatever the hell is this what you just said.

(Throws the scarf away.)

(Laughs playfully, accepting the Slytherin scarf in contrast to Sekido.)

Well, well, well, looks like I'm being sorted into Ssssss~lytherin, huh?~ Gotta admit, it's got the best color going for it!~ Alright, I'll embrace my inner Slytherin for now. Sounds cool enough, kyah, don't worry about Sekido's reaction though!

(Picks up the Gryffindor scarf and wraps it around Sekido's neck.)

He is just confused.~

(Looks down at the Ravenclaw scarf around his neck, a hint of confusion on his face.)

Ravenclaw… Blue... intelligence... calm...

(He trails off, unsure of how to respond, before awkwardly nodding and looking at you)

Well, I can't deny that I appreciate those traits... And yes, blue does carry the connotation of calmness... and other emotions as well… I suppose there might be a connection there, in a… way. It's an interesting interpretation, I must say.

(Aizetsu gives a small, wobbly smile, trying his best to play along with your description, despite his awkwardness.)

(Urogi chuckles delight as the Hufflepuff scarf is placed around his neck, he stands still just for a brief moment so you could wrap it.)

Hufflepuff, hmm?~ Yellow for joy and jubilation, you say you say? It sounds familiar!

(Urogi's face lights up with a beaming smile, radiating happiness.)

Well, if being cheerful and charismatic is the part of the game, then I think I would fit well!

(He strikes a playful pose, twirling the Hufflepuff scarf around his arm like a ribbon.)

Joy is my name, after all!

(When you announce being a Hufflepuff too, Urogis face lights up.)

Of course you are! The best of the bestest color! And house! Let's kick some asses together! 

[lured-into-wonderland]

V is standing next to her, but off to the side and out of view from the mirror she’s looking into. it’s a body mirror, long and tall enough to capture the sight from head to toe. she’s been trying on different kinds of scarves for their outing, gloves and all to match. hooked around the man’s arms are the different fabrics, all varied in length, color and design — it’s important to stay warm. he is just there to lend a hand to Nunnally, providing feedback to each few rotations on her choice in color matching and coordination (he remains quiet for the most part, though, unless she asks for his opinion. fashion is…not his specialty.)

It feels so good to be in a human world. Again. Perhaps Nunnally shouldn’t have forgotten what happened to her not so long ago, but in this very moment, she did. Perhaps the princess should have given more thoughts into the consequences of her being a prisoner of the Underworld, but she wants to forget. Seeing the sky, the sun and the moon, being among humans and their humans' issues make her believe she has escaped her fate, and is back here where she is supposed to be. The only reminder about her recent past (at least for now) is V. Standing next to her. She remembers his powers. She remembers his kindness. She remembers he is the only reason she’s still alive. Perhaps then, she should want him to disappear, too. Perhaps she should want to cut that last link (or the remainder) to who the proud princess has become…

…but she doesn’t…

…Nunnally wants V to stay. To be close to her. But the princess is not sure why. Is it because she feels safe with him? Is it because she knows he’ll protect her from anything and everything? Or perhaps there’s another reason that Nunnally is not ready to reveal even to herself?

She takes another scarf and tries it on. To see how it fits the rest of her outfit. It’s a nice soft wool; it gives her a cosy feeling. But would green go nicely with her fair complexion? So, she quickly chooses a different one; white scarf richly decorated with golden thread…but wouldn’t it make her looking too pale? Nunnally looks at V; he isn’t really helpful. V remains quiet for most of the time, and Nunnally is not sure why. Doesn’t he like anything that is piling up in this room? Doesn’t he like the “new” her? She is suddenly concerned. Does he find her vain?

Nunnally is not truly vain. She might appear so at this very moment, but deep inside she isn’t. V has seen her tainted and humiliated (at least in her own eyes); V has seen the princess in the rags, so now she wants to show him a different self; a different Nunnally. Still not in the royal splendor (does she really want him to see the royal princess?), but definitely a different Nunnally. Though perhaps V prefers her stripped of her royalty. Of her womanhood. Oh, is it that she wants him to see a woman in her?

She is standing there next to V wearing an elegant long dress. The black colour is the background for the seasonal motifs; all the shades of greens, reds, and golds adorn the expensive fabric. She is standing there now confused of why V is not talking to her. She wants him to say something. To calm her emotions down. Again and again. The faint pink creeps on her cheeks as the princess finally speaks: --

“Which one is better? The green? The white? …or perhaps the red one…?” – she adds as she reaches for another scarf. But she knows it is unimportant what she is going to wear. She understands that, although she still wants to look pretty for him. Though if it does make him uncomfortable…: --

“Come on…” – she says as she approaches V and gently takes his arm – “I think I have spent too much time focusing on how I look…” – though I want to look beautiful for you; but that’s not the confession V is going to hear – “We should rather focus on enjoying our…time together…” – suddenly Nunnally realizes she doesn’t know how much time is left for them. What will happen when they back to her kingdom? Where she is to take back her position?

She has dreamt about it when she was locked in that cell. So, why now a hesitation in her heart…?

“Look, V!” – the points outside the window – “The fresh snow!”

“Let’s go out…perhaps we’ll find a mistletoes…” – and end up under it. She doesn't want to think about serious issues. She wants not to be a princess for a bit longer. All she wants is to enjoy these moments...

...with V.

@ofurizen

[tasnjewel]

What types of head jewelry look good with a hijab and are acceptable culturally?

There is a beauty to the way a headscarf or a traditional hijab frames the face and enhances one's attractiveness.

But given the diversity of cultures and their distinctive rituals, it's important to look into the kinds of head jewelry that not only go with the headscarf but also respect and honor various cultural standards.

These pictures, which draw design cues from other cultures, give your hijab style a touch of elegance:

Hijab Pins with Charms: Hijab pins can be embellished with lovely charms in addition to serving their intended purpose of holding the scarf in place.

Matha Patti: The Matha Patti is a beautiful piece of headgear that rests on the forehead and was inspired by South Asian jewelry customs.

Turkish headbands: Turkish headbands are a charming accent to any hijab style. Turkey has a rich cultural heritage.

Moroccan-Inspired Tikka: A traditional South Asian forehead adornment with a Moroccan flair, tikka, can be altered to go with hijab fashion.

Headpieces made of filigree are delicate, intricate jewelry pieces that sit lightly on the head and have their origins in many different cultures.

Chains and hairpins: To lend a touch of understated elegance to a headscarf, wear simple, fashionable hair chains or hairpins.

Head chains with a Middle Eastern flair can help you embrace the charm of Middle Eastern culture. These head chains are fastened to the sides of your scarves and gracefully drape across your forehead.

Maang Tikka: The maang tikka, another beloved dish from South Asia, can be modified to go well with a headscarf.

Faux Pearl Headbands: Pearl headbands give your headscarf a timeless, traditional touch.