#i went to a wedding recently and wore a DRESS and HEELS and MAKEUP (cut crease and red lips tyvm)
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The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 7
Sorry this took so long y'all. This chapter was difficult to write. Hannibal invites Theresa for dinner and y/n finally confronts her.
Trigger warning: mentions of suicide, child sex abuse; graphic descriptions of violence; confronting an abuser; body-shaming
The stitches in your cut hadn't even dissolved before Theresa intruded on your life again. Before you stormed out, Hannibal did in fact invite her to dinner. Polite society would rule the invitation null and void after that confrontation, but Theresa felt herself exempt from the laws of politeness. Like Evangelicals or craisins, Theresa loved to insert herself where she was clearly not wanted.
Of course, you were peeved at Hannibal for upholding the invitation when she called. But you could tell he had something planned. He was intrigued by her audacity and wanted to see how far it would take her. You couldn't begrudge him professional curiosity, as you too wondered what the fuck her problem was.
In truth, you saw what he did to your grandma, and you wanted to see him do it to Theresa. You wanted her subject to the same psychological torment that she put you through. And that, you realized, was why he honored that invitation. He wanted to vindicate you. And that was the sexiest damn thing you could possibly imagine.
Theresa showed up alone. That was her first mistake.
"Thank you for having me, Dr. Lecter." Theresa greeted, shedding her long coat and dropping it to the ground. "Will [F/N] be joining us?"
"[F/N] will most certainly be joining us." Hannibal said, his voice hardening. He noticed her coat in a pile on the floor and something in his head clicked.
"I hope I'm not overdressed." Theresa tossed her hair over her shoulders.
She was. And you knew even before she showed up that she'd wear that green evening dress with the plunging neckline. It was the same one she wore to prom. She kept it as a memento all these years to memorialize the day she completely fucked you over.
She was here to make history repeat itself.
"Not all, Ms. [L/N]," Hannibal grinned, glancing at the staircase. "[F/N] is just touching up her makeup.”
“That sounds like [F/N].” Theresa laughed. “She always took the most time getting ready in the morning. And she was always the ugliest. It was quite sad, really.”
Hannibal reminded himself what he had in store for Theresa before letting himself get angry. “If you could join me in the kitchen, I could use a little help with the appetizers.”
Theresa took the bait and followed him through the threshold into the massive kitchen.
“Could I trouble you for some psychological advice, Doctor Lecter?” She said, leaning against the island.
“That depends.” He answered, though the tone of his voice connoted a firm ‘no’. “Are you going to be honest with me?”
Theresa mounted herself on top of the island and crossed her legs. “I’ve just been having quite a bit of trouble in my marriage.”
"Please get off my counter." Hannibal politely demanded. "I just sterilized it this morning."
“My husband just isn’t so excited by me anymore.” She pouted like a child. “He just doesn’t seem interested in... well, any of the things I have to offer him.”
“Have you considered the possibility that you have nothing to offer?” You said. You approached them with purpose, the skirt of your purple dress fluttering behind you. Your favorite pair of strappy heels clacked against the tile and echoed through the room with every step.
“[F/N] makes a valid point.” Hannibal agreed, taking you under his arm. “You’re an abusive narcissist, a serial adulterer, and you’re quite horrible at flirting. I certainly don’t understand what you could possibly have to offer.”
“Nice to see you again, [F/N].” Theresa said, resigned to her defeat. “I didn’t want to say anything at the wedding, but you look like you’ve gained a few pounds.”
You almost laughed. Growing up, Grandma had subjected you to every form of body-shaming known to man. Nothing Theresa could say would have any effect on you.
“Really? Because I’ve never felt better in my life.” You smiled, knowing it to be true. “Hannibal is an amazing cook. You’d probably gain weight too if you were eating so well.”
"Well, I have appearances to keep up." She refuted. "Gideon and I both have very busy schedules. Besides, he finds the kitchen more of a woman's domain."
"Unfortunate for you." Hannibal threw a dish towel over his shoulder and picked up a wine bottle by the neck. He kept his hands busy by pouring three glasses of wine. "That Gideon does not put in the time to keep you well-fed and fulfilled. Might I suggest not molesting children as a remedy?"
You snickered as he handed you a glass. You migrated to the dining table, where the trial was set to take place.
"Did you invite me here just to gang up on me?" Theresa leaned back in her chair. "Because if so, that's really mature."
"Of course not." You said, Hannibal pulling your chair out for you. You placed your napkin in your lap. "Well, maybe a little."
Theresa took a long sip of wine. "You're not going to get an apology if that's what you're after."
"Oh no." You shook your head. "I've stopped expecting basic human decency from you years ago."
"Good." Theresa huffed. "Since that's clearly what you want me to be, that's what I'll be."
"Don't give me that shit." You sighed. "I know what gaslighting is and you're not as good at it as you think."
"Y'know I never asked to be a parent figure to you and Anna." She crossed her arms.
"You may not have asked for it but you sure as hell enjoyed it." You countered, furrowing your brow. "Don't act like you weren't the dictator's right-hand man. You sucked up to grandma and always got preferential treatment."
"I was a kid." She shrugged. "You're really gonna blame me for the shit I did before my skull fully hardened?"
"Well, it exposes a way larger pattern of behavior." You explained. "You're a megalomaniac that wants power without responsibility. So you attach yourself to someone with power, probably another narcissist who's too self-involved to see what a leech you really are. It's what you did with grandma and it's what you're doing with Gideon."
Dressing Theresa down like that gave you a rush. It made you feel alive. But more importantly, it made her look small. It stripped her of her power.
"Well done, Sherlock." Theresa taunted. "But you're forgetting one thing. If I were a megalomaniac, why would I waste my time beating up on you? Some nobody with no power to speak of?"
"Because I'm a living reminder of your past." You narrowed your eyes. "I remind you that you can't just beat everyone into submission."
"Ladies," Hannibal interrupted, holding three bowls. He placed one in front of you, the savory broth enticing your nose. "This is pot-au-feu. It is a simple French stew made from beef, vegetables and potatoes. I added a marrow-bone for extra richness. It's the perfect combination of simplicity and substance."
You couldn't even wait for Hannibal to sit down. You'd been so hungry all day. Smelling the meat slowly braise over the course of the day was torturous. You went straight for the marrow, which was a recent favorite of yours.
Theresa picked the bone up between two fingers and dropped it onto the table, her face wrapped with disgust. "I think I'll pass. I'm not a dog."
"You are not." Hannibal said, spearing a piece of meat on his fork. "I find dogs much better company."
Theresa tented her fingers and glared at Hannibal. "So you're just going to let her rip into me? Aren't you supposed to be the professional here?"
"Don't discount [F/N]'s analysis just because she is a student." Hannibal glared back at her. "From what I know about you, she's dead on."
"Isn't this entire interaction a professional conflict of interest?" Theresa folded her arms. "I don't trust her to analyze me because she hates me."
Hannibal put his utensils down. Anger flashed across his face. "I don't think you quite understand what this interaction is. You are not owed an unbiased psychological profile, especially not from me. You are not my patient. You are [F/N]'s abuser."
Theresa narrowed her eyes and leaned over the table. "So if you understand that, why am I here?"
"You think very highly of your intelligence, Theresa." Hannibal glanced down at his dish. "Perhaps you can figure that one out yourself."
You coughed, narrowly avoiding choking on your food.
"Darling, please pace yourself." Hannibal instructed, though he seemed pleased with how enthusiastically you inhaled your meal. "You're going to make yourself sick if you eat too fast."
"I'm sorry." You said after taking a long sip of water. "I don't know why, I'm just so hungry today."
Hannibal dropped his eyebrows, looking worried. "Did you take your medicine this morning?"
"I think so." You nodded.
Theresa smiled and reached for her phone. The movement caught Hannibal's attention, and he could tell what she was up to right away.
"Theresa, it's very rude to text at the dinner table." He scolded, taking a sip of wine. "Surely, anything you're saying to your grandmother and Anna, you can say to us."
Theresa, too proud to back down, slipped her phone into her purse and met your eyes. "You're pregnant."
"Brilliant fucking deductive reasoning." You rolled your eyes. "A woman gains a little weight and has a healthy appetite? That's the only logical conclusion I would draw."
"Well, aren’t we defensive?" Theresa taunted. "Congratulations, by the way."
"Theresa, stop it." You gritted your teeth, trying not to convey how pissed you were.
"You're going to need to drop out of school to take care of the baby full time." Theresa sneered.
You knew exactly where she was taking this and you wanted more than anything to just disappear. You reached for the wine bottle and refilled your glass. "Shut up, Theresa. Shut the fuck up before you say something you'll regret."
Her face lit up from the satisfaction of finally making you angry. "And someday you'll blow your brains out just like your mother!"
This time, she would regret it. You chucked the empty wine bottle across the table. It hit her directly in the face with a deafening crunch before ricocheting off the table and shattering on the ground.
Theresa brought her finger to her nose, noticing the stream of blood trickling from her nostril. She stood up, stabilizing herself with the back of the chair.
"I didn't think you had it in you." She jabbed before collapsing to the ground.
You went silent, too afraid to look at Hannibal.
"For what it's worth, darling." Hannibal piped up. "I always knew that you did."
#hannibal x reader#hannibal nbc#hannibal lecter#hannibal x you#tw violence#tw blood#cult girl#tw csa mention#tw suidice
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1x09 Chapter Nine: La Grande Illusion
Hello fellow Bombshells, I apologize for the absence, my cousin’s wedding was this past weekend so I’ve been off celebrating and what not. But fear not cause I am back and what better episode to be back with than this very Cheryl-centric episode, yay!!
Thicker than blood, more precious than oil. Riverdale's big business, is maple syrup.
This episode focuses around the Blossom family business and inheritance now that Jason is gone. We finally get to explore Cheryl’s story in detail and I think this is when we begin to see why Cheryl is the way she is.
In our opening montage, we get a glimpse of Cheryl in this rather simple outfit involving her black crop ribbed leather jacket, a black choker, her red/burgundy spider brooch and a burgundy shift dress. Not much to say about this other than the whole Blossom family is wearing black and burgundy, Cheryl is part of the fam here.
Idk how they’re not wearing tights, I would literally be dying. Jeez. Anywaaaays, they are solemnly waiting for the arrival of the Blossom clan all in red prints. Cheryl is wearing her burgundy gloves from 1x07 when they went on the hunt for Polly. Her red spider brooch is prominently in place. I’m not 100% positive but her blazer appears to be a cropped bluish-gray item that matches her skirt well.
The underneath part as show at school! This is a simple red turtleneck and this skirt, hmmm. It is so similar to one she wore recently in episode 4x06. I noticed it as I was going through my screenshots for this episode, I find it fascinating however because 4x06 is the first appearance of Aunt Cricket and Uncle Bedford since this episode, 1x09! How fantastic is that subtle nod.
Wild.
On a final note about this outfit, this is the first appearance of Cheryl’s red flame heels and certainly not the last. I think in this episode they show her fierce loyalty to the Blossom name.
Oh, the exclusive maple tapping. This episode obviously tells us that Riverdale is presumably in the northernmost part of America as it has obvious Canadian ties throughout (and is filmed in Canada). But, it is very obvious in this episode. As for Cheryl’s maple tapping outfit, she has on large black stone earrings with crystal trim and her black spider brooch. A black turtleneck to keep warm since tights were apparently forbidden for her in this episode.
Ugh, her cloak. The hood and the flow, the little red riding hood vibes, I’m obsessed. Just as V looks amazing in her black cape, Cheryl was meant for this cloak. Under the turtleneck is this tight, rounded black dress with red trims. I love her red and black checked gloves. Her boots are black leather or possibly rain boots. Regardless, she looks adorable albeit a little cold.
Can we pause for a moment of appreciation for Penelope’s pants? They’re. dope. Also, weird family picture.
Mmm, the next night, Cheryl rolls up to Archie’s house, gift in hand. A nice ass guitar. Cheryl’s family definitely seems the type to show gratitude with lavish gifts, even when it feels unwarranted, much the way the Lodges do as well. But, as for the outfit, I like it. I love the detail on the shoulder of her black sweater. Her earrings are tiny black ear jackets and her simple black choker adorns her neck, weirdly loosely. The silver bracelet ties in nicely to her crystal shoulder detail.
Cute simple red skirt. And a weird cheek kiss. The vibes of this episode were all kinds of off although I appreciate the color vibe through Cheryl’s lipstick, skirt, and bow on the guitar case. She’s quite literally brought the Blossom presence into the Andrews home.
Blink and you might miss it. This scene was very brief but had big consequences leading to the end of Valerie and Archie to make room for Varchie. But, oh man. THAT SKIRT. One of my top Cheryl items, I love that skirt and it is paired later with one of my favorite outfits ever (hint: see my profile picture.) I always found it funny how this outfit is the exact opposite coloring of the one from the night before, a clear switch in attitude from sickly sweet to conniving. It’s more or less the same silhouette, even with a detailed shoulder, but turned on its head color wise. Fascinating. Her black spider brooch makes an appearance as well as this amazing embellished lace up choker that we will see in more detail in future episodes.
The Blossom Banquet. Oh man, Cheryl in an emerald green dress. I have words. First of all, Cheryl is wearing heavy red throughout the episode until this moment. Then nothing. There is heavy symbolism here in that Cheryl knows her parent’s motives are not pure and she feels uneasy under the Blossom name. Her stark contrast to her parents in this scene is illuminating but subtle. As for the dress, I think it is beautiful and refreshing to see her in another color!
Her hair is heavily pulled to one side with a crystal bobby pin, her bracelets and choker are sparkling in the snow and all pull together for an amazing wintery formal look. Her are earrings are fairly simple and don’t take away from her hair and choker. I love the cut of the dress as well and the slit that I will highlight in a moment. I’d like to come back to this dress in my analysis of 1x11 as well.
The lace up back is STUNNING and this entire screencap is just hauntingly gorgeous, holy shit.
Okay, I spent a long ass time attempting to screencap her shoes and slit. I believe the shoes are black with some sort of wrapped ankle strap, it’s hard to tell but I love it all together regardless.
Cheryl on the murder board, cute.
And we end the episode in a place we are all too familiar, Cheryl in her bedroom in this black floral velvet robe. This time, she is not having an emotional girl talk with V but rather emotionally scribbling out Archie and Polly from the aforementioned weird family photo. Note, her makeup looks so cute here.
Yikes. Love her nails though and use of a red sharpie, lol.
I believe she might have on a black silk cami and shorts set because of the way she is sitting. Red spider brooch and black choker, check. Black fluffy heeled sandals, also check. Still love this vibe.
Hi, I’m emotional but fine. Mood.
Outfit Total: 7!
Brooch Count: 1 burgundy spider ( I think it is separate from the red, more on that later. 2 red spider. 2 black spider. Very spider heavy! So 5 in total.
Favorite Outfit: It’s a tie between green formal and red with black leather skirt.
Till next time.
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girl talk
GENERAL WOMANHOOD:
1. Do you like the color pink?
Yeah, various shades of it.
2. How easily do you cry?
I’m a crybaby.
3. What food do you eat the most of when you’re sad?
Lately I’ve been eating a lot of Wingstop. That’s been my thing. I also like my bowl of ramen every night.
4. How often do you experience boob sweat?
That has literally never happened to me as I have small boobs. <<< lol same.
5. What time of month is your time?
I don’t have that anymore.
6. How moody are you when you are on your period?
I got really bad PMS/PMDD and was extra sensitive and moody. I’m like that all the time now even without that.
7. Have you ever thought you were pregnant because your period was late?
Nope. That was never a possibility.
8. Have you ever been on the pill?
No.
9. Have you ever thought about having children someday? What is your current opinion?
I don’t want to have kids.
10. Have you ever given birth? If not, would you ever want to?
No.
11. How much do you like decorating for holidays?
Christmas is the only one I really decorate for anymore and I go all out.
12. How good of a cook do you consider yourself?
I can’t cook at all besides ramen.
13. What is your favorite thing to cook?
^^^
14. Do you prefer cooking, baking, or both equally?
I like making ramen. lol. That’s literally all I cook if you even want to count that cause it’s so easy. Besides that, anything I else I make is oven or microwavable. or a sandwich.
15. Can you sew?
Nope.
16. How feminine do you consider yourself?
How do you determine that? I mean, if it means makeup and dresses, then not very cause I haven’t worn makeup in over a year and it’s been a few years since I’ve worn a dress. I’m all about comfy casual. That doesn’t make me masculine, though. I’m curious what you think makes someone feminine or not.
17. Have you ever been told that you are too girly or feminine?
No.
18. Do you consider yourself a feminist?
I mean, I care about women’s rights and believe we should have equal opportunities and such as men and all that.
19. How do you define “girl power”?
Uhh, I don’t know. A strong, confident woman.
20. How much of a neat freak are you?
I used to be more of a neat freak, but I don’t have the energy or motivation anymore. My room isn’t a disaster, but it’s messier than I ever used to let it get. It’s just cluttered. I need to go through and get rid stuff, but blah.
21. How you ever wished you were born a male?
No.
22. Breastfeeding or formula?
Mothers should do what they feel is best and works for them and the baby.
23. What is your opinion of equal pay?
I think payment should be individual but obviously not based on sex. <<< Yeah, like everyone can’t be paid the exact same. There’s other factors. But people doing the same job and putting in the same work should be paid the same.
24. What is one profession you think needs more women?
I don’t care, I think everyone should just do what they’re interested in. <<<
25. Are you pro-life or pro-choice?
26. Have you ever experienced any sexism? If so, please explain.
Not that I can think of.
27. Have you ever been called a blabbermouth or a chatterbox?
I have my chatty moods now and then.
28. What is one thing about women you think most men don’t know?
I don’t know.
29. Is there anything you dislike about being a woman?
Menstrual cycles sucked, but I don’t have those anymore.
30. Complete this phrase: I’m so glad I am a woman because ______.
I just am.
LIFE EXPERIENCES:
31. Did you ever play with Barbie dolls as a child?
Yes. I was obsessed with Barbies, I played for hoursss.
32. Have you ever dotted lowercase Js and Is with hearts or smiley faces?
Yeah, when I was younger I did sometimes.
33. Have you ever been a Girl Scout?
Yes.
34. Have you ever been a ballerina?
No.
35. Have you ever been a cheerleader?
No.
36. Were you ever voted as homecoming or prom queen?
Nope.
37. Have you ever hosted a sleepover?
Yeah, with my cousins all the time as kids.
38. Do you belong to a sorority?
Nope.
39. Have you ever kept a diary or a journal?
Yeah. I had a physical one in middle school up to my sophomore year in high school and then I moved on to online journals. This is my journal now.
40. At what age did you get your first period?
13.
PHYSICAL APPEARANCE:
41. What is the longest your hair has ever been? Would you ever grow it that long again?
Down to my butt, which is how long it was until I cut a couple inches off recently. It was like that when I was a kid, too. Perhaps even a little longer.
42. Have you had a hairstyle above the eyebrows?
Uhh, do you mean bangs? If so, yes. I had them until college and then I did the side swept thing for awhile.
43. What hairstyle do you wear the most?
Pony tail, bun, or braid.
44. Have you ever died your hair? If so, how often?
Countless times now. I first got highlights in middle school and did that for awhile before dyeing it black my sophomore year. I then went back to highlights until dyeing it red in 2015. I’ve been doing that ever since.
45. What is the heaviest you remember ever weighing?
I think 90lbs.
46. How muscular are you?
I’m not anymore. :/ I used to have toned arms, but I lost my muscle mass over these past few years due to health stuff and just not being active like I used to be.
47. Do you have any piercings anywhere besides your earlobes?
Nope.
48. Do you have any tattoos? If you, where are they and what are they of?
Nope.
49. Do you like wearing lipstick or lip gloss? If so, how often do you wear them?
I haven’t in a long time.
50. How often do you paint your nails?
It’s been a few years since the last time I painted them.
51. Have you ever worn any fake nails?
Once. I got them done for my 8th grade promotion.
52. Have you ever worn fake eyelashes?
Yeah.
53. How often do you shave or wax your legs?
I don’t have to shave my legs often. It’s never been an issue, like hair doesn’t really grow there.
54. How white are your teeth?
I could use a Crest white strip or something.
55. Have you ever been told that you look like a certain celebrity?
No.
56. How much do you look like your mother?
I have a lot of her features, but a lot of my dad’s, too.
57. How much do you look like your father?
^^^^
58. What do you think is your best physical feature?
I like dyeing my hair red.
59. What do you think is your worst physical feature?
Everything.
60. How good are you at communicating through facial expressions?
I think my facial expressions give it away. It’s obvious when I’m annoyed or in discomfort.
FASHION STYLE:
61. What type of clothing do you own the most of?
Leggings and graphic tees.
62. How big is your closet?
Not big at all.
63. Have you ever looked through your closet and though “I have nothing to wear”?
Ha, yeah.
64. What is your favorite fashion brand?
The only brand I really care about and have a lot of is Adidas.
65. Do you wear skirts and dresses at all? If so, how often?
I haven’t in years.
66. What is your dress size?
Small.
67. What is the shortest length of skirts and dresses you are comfortable wearing?
I like the length to go to my knees and I wear pantyhose/tights underneath. I’m very self-conscious about my legs.
68. How expensive was your prom dress?
I think it was like $80.
69. What is the most expensive piece of clothing you currently own?
My Adidas clothes.
70. Do you wear high heels or stilettos at all? If so, how often?
No.
71. Have you ever worn high heels casually?
Nope.
72. How often do you take an OOTD (outfit of the day) selfie?
I only take a picture if I really like the shirt I’m wearing.
73. Have you ever worn the exact same outfit from head to toe more than once?
Yeah, while at home.
74. How often do you wear a bra when out in public?
I wear one whenever I go somewhere.
75. How often do you wear a bra when bumming it at home?
I don’t.
76. When you get home from work, how soon does your bra typically come off?
I don’t work, but when I get home from wherever I’ll likely just wait until bedtime.
77. Have you ever carried a spare bra with you in your purse?
Nope.
78. Which are you more likely to go without: A bra or panties?
Bra.
79. Does it matter to you if your bra and panties match or not?
Nah.
80. What type of underwear do you typically wear?
Hipster/hip huggers whatever you wanna call ‘em.
81. How much of your underwear is white?
I don’t have any plain white pairs.
82. Have you ever carried a spare pair of underwear with you in your purse?
No.
83. Do you like eyeshadow?
I used to wear it sometimes back when I wore makeup regularly.
84. Do you like mascara?
That’s a must when I wear makeup.
85. How much makeup do you typically wear?
I haven’t worn any in over a year.
86. Have you every gone out in public without any makeup on?
I do all the time. A few years ago I never would have done that.
87. How much jewelry do you typically wear?
I was wearing earrings I got for Christmas for awhile, but I took them out a couple weeks ago cause my ears were irritated.
88. Is there any kind of jewelry you pretty much always wear?
Just those earrings for awhile. Before that, it had been a few years. I used to have 3 rings I wore literally 24/7 for a long time until one day I took them off for some reason and never put them back on.
89. Do you carry a purse at all?
I’ve been using a mini backpack.
90. Do you like tube and halter tops?
No.
91. Do you like crop tops?
No.
92. Are you comfortable showing off a little cleavage?
This girl does not have cleavage lol. <<<
93. One-piece swimsuits or bikinis?
I don’t do swim suits.
94. Does it matter to you if your bikini top matches the bottom?
I don’t wear them, but if I did yeah I would want them to match.
WEDDING CRAZE:
95. Have you ever been a bridesmaid? If so, how often?
Nope.
96. Do you have any desires to get married?
No.
97. For how long have you thought about your wedding?
It’s not something I put much thought into at all. I’m not the type of person who has dreamt of their wedding day since they were a kid or anything. I honestly don’t see myself ever getting married.
98. How much of your wedding do you have planned out already?
99. Would you rather have a big or a small wedding?
100. Would you rather have a lot of bridesmaids or just a couple?
101. Would you rather have an indoor or an outdoor wedding? Does the same go for the reception?
DATING & RELATIONSHIPS:
102. What is your current relationship status?
Single.
103. What is the longest relationship you’ve ever had?
3 years if you count the Joseph situation.
104. Do you consider yourself a hopeless romantic at all?
No. I think I’ve just been hardened by life ha.
105. Are you a virgin? If not, which gender did you lose your virginity to?
Yes.
106. What personality trait are you most attracted to?
Just nice, caring, genuine, patient, understanding guys with a sense of humor.
107. Have you ever been on a blind date?
No. I have no interest in that.
108. Has anyone you know ever tried to set you up on a date?
I had a friend who always wanted to do that.
109. Do you use any dating apps? If so, have they ever worked out for you?
Nope.
110. Do you kiss on the first date?
If it felt right.
111. How often do guys hit on you?
It’s been years since that has happened and even when it did, it wasn’t often.
112. Have women ever hit on you?
A friend I had always got flirty when she was drunk.
114. Have you ever kissed another woman while sober? If so, did you like it?
No. I’ve done that while drunk either.
115. Have you ever dated another woman?
No.
116. After how long of dating do you typically consider a relationship to be serious?
There’s more factors than that.
117. Would you rather your lover give you chocolate, flowers, both, or something else?
Something else, honestly. Like coffee.
118. Are you friends with any of your exes?
Not anymore.
119. Is sex before marriage wrong?
That’s a personal choice. Do what feels right to you.
ENTERTAINMENT:
120. What celebrity do you most admire and why?
There aren’t any I admire specifically, I just like keeping up with the celebrity gossip and entertainment. It’s entertaining and a distraction from my own life.
121. Do you like romantic comedies? Do you have any favorites?
I’m a sucker for romantic comedies.
122. Do you have a favorite romantic movie?
I have several.
123. Who is your favorite Disney princess?
Ariel.
124. What is your favorite Disney song?
“In a World of My Own” from Alice in Wonderland, “Part of Your World” from Little Mermaid, “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” from Toy Story, “Hakuna Matata” from Lion King, “Bare Necessities” from The Jungle Book, “Winnie the Pooh” from Winnie the Pooh... that’s just to name a few, there’s several others. Disney songs are catchy.
125. Do you watch The Bachelor or The Bachelorette?
Nah, I never got into that. I can’t believe they’re on their 16th season now.
126. Have you ever watched Sex & The City?
I’ve seen parts of it here and there. I never got into it.
127. Have you ever watched any shows such as Project Runway or America’s Next Top Model?
I used to watch America’s Next Top Model. Even the last 2 recent seasons. I’d watch it again if they brought it back.
128. Do you like watching any beauty pageants such as Miss America?
No.
129. Do you like watching the red carpet arrivals before award ceremonies?
Not usually. Sometimes I will.
130. Beyonce or Taylor Swift?
Beyonce.
131. Oprah Winfrey or Ellen DeGeneres?
I like both.
A PILE OF RANDOMNESS:
132. Are you named after anyone?
Nope.
133. How many male friends do you have?
I don’t have any friends.
134. Have you ever been considered the mother of your group of friends?
Yes.
135. Have you ever called your friend friends your ‘girlfriends’?
No.
136. Have you ever called a non-lover a term such as honey, babe, dear, or darling?
Jokingly, yeah.
137. How many items do you own that are of a floral print design?
I think I only have a few.
138. Have you ever scoffed at something because you thought it wasn’t feminine enough?
No?
139. How healthy do you eat?
I don’t.
140. What is your preferred way to carry a purse: Clutched in your hand, on your elbow, or on your shoulder?
On my shoulder.
141. Besides you phone, money, wallet, and keys, name five things you always have with you in your purse.
Hand sanitizer, mini hair brush, chapstick, medicine, and maybe a water bottle.
142. Have you ever lost anything inside your purse?
It seemed that way a lot in my bigger purses. I always had to dig around for everything.
143. Have you ever used your bra or your cleavage as a purse or a pocket?
No.
144. Do you consider shopping a sport
No lol. Especially not when you do it from home in bed like I do. There’s nothing active about that, ha.
145. Do you shop more in physical walk-in stores or online?
Online.
146. What is the most amount of money you remember ever spending in one single shopping trip?
The most was when I got my first MacBook.
147. How often do you have a girls’ night out?
I don’t anymore. I used to sometimes when I had friends and social life.
148. Do you prefer coffee or tea?
Coffee, always.
149. How polite do you consider yourself?
I think I’m pretty polite.
150. Can you do the splits?
Nope.
151. Do you like doing any yoga?
No.
152. Have you ever been told that you have cute handwriting?
No. My handwriting is shit.
153. How well can you write in cursive?
My cursive is awful.
154. Have you ever successfully been on a diet?
No.
155. Do you currently or have you ever belonged to a book club?
Well, I’ve done a few online Bible study groups.
156. Have you ever talked yourself out of a driving ticked by using your looks?
I don’t drive so I’ve never been pulled over. That wouldn’t work, though. I’m ugly and I don’t have the personality or confidence either.
157. Have you ever drunk a non-alcoholic beverage from a wine glass?
Yeah, like apple cider. Especially when I was a kid to be “cool” haha.
158. Do you prefer showers or baths?
Showers. I haven’t taken a bath since I was a kid.
159. Have you ever snorted while laughing?
Yeah.
160. How strict are you about manners?
I think they’re important.
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Character Sheet
Once again, this is a reworked character because she wasn’t fleshed out as much when I first created her. A huge thank you to @incorrectbatfamiliaquotes for helping me again. You’ve been a huge help :)
_______________________________________________________
Full Name: Mirabella Ann Baker
Nickname: Bell
Ethnicity: American, originally from South Carolina
Birthday: April 16, 1995
Age: 25
Zodiac Sign: Aries
Basic Personality: Bell is the embodiment of southern charm. She is warm and loving, like an angel sent from above. Mirabella is a bit of a partier and likes to drink, which has settled a bit since she’s moved into Kaia’s apartment. She is very open about her sexuality and enjoys the opposite sex a lot, though she has had some not so nice encounters while drunk.
Deeper Personality:
Far too kind: will not turn anyone in need away, whether they truly need it or not.
Really, really, enjoys the opposite sex: we love a girl who’s open about her sexuality but sometimes makes impulsive decisions when trying to secure a new man
-Once cosigned on a house with a guy only for him to turn around and break up with her HOURS after signing the deed.
-Bought another one an entire bar because he said he liked their beer the best.
Mirabella will occasionally black out and make terrible decisions. She’s gotten a hold on it in recent months, but it still scares her every time she can’t remember the previous night.
Best Friends: Kaia Dragoumis and Stephanie Brown
Kaia was someone that was forced upon Mirabella when they were fairly young. Their families were old friends from their college days. When Kaia went mute, Mirabella made sure to learn ASL to be able to communicate with her, surprising Kaia greatly. They have a great relationship.
Stephanie, Tim Drake’s wife, was introduced to Mirabella a few months before their wedding and they immediately hit it off. They enjoy getting together for a movie night and relaxing. Stephanie admires Mirabella’s grit and warm personality, while Bell admires the strength of Stephanie’s moral compass. Tim is jealous of all the time Bell spends with Steph and constantly complains to Kaia about it.
Family: Joanne Baker, Mirabella’s mother, is a self-made billionaire with a hit fashion company. Mirabella has no siblings and no real father figure besides her mother’s constant conquests. Her mother has groomed her to take over the company one day, but Mirabella hates her mother because of the way she runs her company. The company makes their clothing unethically, by using child slavery in foreign countries to make cheap clothing then turning around and making a huge profit off of bad clothing. Mirabella is trying to take the company from her mother but was cut off at nineteen when she spoke up about how harshly Joanne treats her workers.
Job: Mirabella is a creative girl who never went to college. She makes money selling handmade jewelry and clothing online.
Love Life: Mirabella prefers quick but serious relationships. She falls in and out of love easily; very hard to keep pinned down but would love to one day settle down and raise a family. Bell identifies as heterosexual.
Hobbies: Bell’s hobbies include sewing, making jewelry, creating new fabrics to use for clothing and designing clothes.
Favorite Food: Our lovely southern lady is a huge fan of oysters. Insert gross face here.
Favorite Color: Sunlight yellow
Political Viewpoint: Bell doesn’t really have an opinion, tries to keep herself out those types of discussions because they make her uncomfortable.
Basic Description: Mirabella is pretty in a traditional sense. She has an adorable button nose and pretty green eyes. Bell keeps her strawberry blonde hair in a fat braid down her back while she’s working but when she leaves the house she’ll wear it loose. She is a tiny woman, barely five foot two, and is stick skinny. Mirabella has a really high metabolism that makes it extremely difficult to gain weight and would love nothing more than to be able to plump up (she’s very jealous of Stephanie’s boobs). Some part of her clothing is always covered in strings from cloth or paint, so she rarely cares about what she’s wearing. Bell isn’t one for makeup but when she gets dressed up, she goes all out. She speaks with a slight Southern drawl that reminds many of Kristin Chenoweth.
Dress Sense: Mirabella likes to keep things simple, but usually wears long dresses with a sweater or a loose top and pants. She loves heels so she feels taller.
Favorite Song: Why Did It Have to Be Me by ABBA
Favorite Outfit: A pair of loose fitting, linen pants and a flowery yellow shirt that she made herself. Always paired with her favorite pair of wedges.
Short Term Goals: Help Kaia become a lawyer and take her mother’s company from her.
Long Term Goals: Become a successful business woman by reforming her mother’s company. Bell would also love to settle down and raise a big family with someone she loves.
Favorite Musical: Mamma Mia because she loves ABBA and the story is so compelling and beautiful.
Last Relationship: Mirabella’s last relationship was a mess. He was very good looking, but also a heap of trouble. He stole some of her valuables and sold them to pay off his gambling debts. That was two years ago and she hasn’t had a real relationship since.
Fears: Bell is scared of dying alone. Her previous lifestyle got her into some trouble before, and dying was a possibility. She regrets being so unprepared for adult life and her previous choices, so she strives to make every day as good as she possibly can. Mirabella has a fear of heights and becoming her mother, which kind of goes along with the fear of dying alone.
Favorite Snack: She loves peach ring gummies.
Fatal Flaw: Mirabella is a yes person. She physically can’t say no, and it’s something she has to continuously work on.
Habits: She gnaws on her lip when she’s thinking. Kaia has to carry multiple chapsticks in her bag for Bell’s poor chapped lips.
Life Motto: When someone says you can’t do something, do it twice and take pictures.
Favorite Movie: The Notebook
Prized Possession: Her first completed article of clothing, which is a mini skirt that no longer fits. She made the fabric herself and designed it; she wore it until the seams busted.
Religion: Bell is Baptist and goes to church every Sunday.
Role Model: Audrey Hepburn is her role model for many reasons. She’s classy and well educated, as well as an incredible actress.
Favorite Book: To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
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Sharp as a Blade, Bright as a Sun ~ Yorte (NSFW)
I don’t know whether I’m the first to write them since KoA but I stan these stubborn nerds. Also:
And now I shall sleep. Enjoy!
“Are you sure you want to help me do this?” Borte’s grandmother scoffed, even as Yeran had to steady her climb through the pass to the top of the mountain. The sulde’s (some new and stained black from the recent war, some old and weathered and clean) stood firm against the late spring snow storm that had shocked them all last week. Yeran had braved the storm with the Eridun tribe matriarch, his furs tucked tight against his neck. But this was for Borte, so he’d brave it a hundred times over.
“This is for my granddaughter. And her mother.”
He hadn’t expected Borte’s confession a month before. It was the first time they’d seen each other after the war, after they’d agreed to take time to heal, to truly think on whether they wanted this marriage or whether they would be forced into it. They were cuddled in his bed when she confessed that she hadn’t wanted to get married without her mother beside her. As fathers were held in the highest regard in his tribe (an honour he would love to have, if Borte decided to grant him such) mothers were the most important people to Borte’s clan. They were also who walked their daughters down the aisle. Borte had said it was fine, that her grandmother could just give her away, but he knew her and knew it bothered her.
So he trudged through the thick layer of fresh snow with Houlun behind him, guiding him to where her daughter’s sulde was buried in the snow, the horsehair blowing in the wind.
“Are you sure I’m allowed to do this?” He pulled her to a stop just before they reached it. Houlun watched him for a second before sighing and looking at her daughter’s sulde.
“Before her mother’s death, Borte used to take every opportunity to watch any and all weddings. She used to drag Dochin with her, would glow when she saw the mothers giving their daughters away. That light died the day Dochin did. So if you think that doing this will bring back that light, then I will help you do it.”
They stopped at the sulde and Houlun nodded. Yeran placed his gloved handles around the pommel and pulled, feeling the snow give way.
Borte sat at the dresser as Nesryn stood behind her, letting out the braids she had slept in. Borte had noted last night how odd it was to have her commander and almost empress doing her hair for the wedding. But Nesryn had insisted that Borte let her be maid of honour. Her grandmother had arrived minutes ago, with stray pieces of snow in her hair. Borte didn’t ask, dismissing it for the storm that she knew would blast through the mountains last night.
She stared at the mirror and blinked. She was happy, she was. She was surrounded by her friends (even Aelin had shown up, even when Borte hadn’t expected it) and marrying the man she loved...
but her mother wasn’t there.
Just before Aelin started the soft paletted makeup Borte had asked for, a knock sounded. Nesryn opened the door to a young warrior holding a long, thin box in his arms.
“Captain Yeran asked that this be given to Miss Borte for her to wear down the aisle. He says that he knows it may not go with whatever she wears but he would like her to have it for today,” Nesryn took the package and laid it out on the only space it would fit. The floor.
Borte crouched next to the box, her dressing gown pooling around her, and ran a hand over its lid before closing her fingers around the latch and opening it.
To reveal her mother’s sulde in red velvet. She lifted it out by the hilt and laid it into her palm, making sure not to cut herself. She didn’t speak, couldn’t speak, instead choosing to pick up the note written in Yeran’s handwriting in the bottom of the case.
Borte,
You told me that you wanted your mother walking down the aisle with you and as much as I wish I could bring her back in order to meet the woman who raised you to be the beautiful and strong individual you are today, I sadly cannot. But I still wanted you to have her with you down that aisle.
Plus, I think it would be pretty excellent to see you walking up to me with just a sulde at your hip. Although I would love you either way.
I’ll see you soon,
Yeran
She didn’t realise she was crying until her grandmother was wiping the tears away.
“Today is a happy day, my love. And she wouldn’t want you to be upset,” Borte looked up with a small watery smile. All she had wanted to marry was someone who listened to her, understood her. She wouldn’t have expected him to go above and beyond just listening to her wishes. But this was...
“I’m not sad. Not at all... how far did he go to take this? Was this why he wanted the wedding here?” Houlun smiled and held her shoulder.
“That man would go to the ends of the earth for you. And yes, that was why. So that you couldn’t talk to her last night, so he could bring her to you,” Borte stood and walked to the cupboard that held her sulde sheath. She replaced the suldes before approaching her grandmother and hugging her.
“I love you but... I... I... I think the aisle belongs to me and her,” all Houlun did was kiss her forehead.
“Why do you think I helped him?”
Yeran was nervous as shit. His hands were sweaty and his chest felt tight as a hundred and one terrible possibilities raced through his head, most of them involving Borte realising that she deserved better than him and leaving on Arcus (ignoring the fact that Arcus was behind him at the altar.)
Who knew weddings were this scary. Especially when Houlun came into the hall and down the aisle by herself. The music started and Aelin Galathynius waltzed through (how Borte managed to get her as a bridesmaid, he’ll never know) followed by one of her fellow Eridun clan riders and then Nesryn.
And then Borte appeared, radiant as the glowing sun from the cave mouth just behind her. She had thin flowers braided into her black hair and she wore...
A white dress. He had said last year, when this betrothal had been new to both of them, that there was no way he ever thought she’d wear a dress.
She always could surprise him.
The dress sat across her collarbones and was translucent lace reaching to the top of her breasts where it then became beautiful white layers. The dress fell in soft waves into a short train that flowed behind her. But the most jilting thing was the fact she was alone. Except for the sulde at her hip, juxtaposing the rest of her golden visage. She looked truly heavenly. His mouth pulled into a bright smile at the sight of her and she smiled back, all the love in the world shining in her eyes.
She reached him and he took her hands. Yeran couldn’t tell whose hands were shaking more as his father began the ceremony.
“Thank you, by the way,” he had been leading her in their first dance together when she had said it.
“Whatever for, Borte?”
“You know what for. My mother’s sulde,” he leaned down to place his forehead against her own, keeping them moving all the while.
“I don’t need thanks for making you happy. I’d do it even if my reward was you spitting in my face. Like with the Sartaq incident,” he spun her out under his arm and then pulled her back in closer, the flowers tickling his forehead.
“In my defence, I was still really pissed at you and your father. And I wasn’t in love with you then,” Yeran smiled, that soft smile that she loves so dearly, the one that says I love you with my life. She gave him a soft kiss before letting him spin her again.
Yeran closed the door behind them as Borte stood at the dresser in his room and kicked her heels off, sighing as her feet laid flat on his rug covered floor. She began to pick at the braid holding the flowers in her hair but Yeran walked up behind her and stopped her hands, laying a kiss on her neck.
“Leave it. Every goddess needs a crown,” she blushed. But he just kissed her neck again and again until her head leant back to rest against his shoulder. His fingers made circles on her lace clad hips.
Borte went to reach for the buttons at her back but he stopped her again.
“I’ll get it, my love,” Yeran moved her hair over her shoulder and kissed the back of her neck and then slowly lower and lower as he unbuttoned her dress, stopping only when he seemed to notice something. “You seem to be missing an article of clothing, Borte,” she laughed and planted her hands on the dresser in front of her.
“I’m not wearing underwear either,” Yeran made a sound similar to a wheeze.
“What?”
“Well, it’s the only time anyone’s going to see me in a wedding dress and I refuse to have lines in such a tight dress.” She turned and Yeran sank to his knees. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”
“It is the first time that we’re married.” She ran a hand through his hair.
“Well then, I expect you to make it count,” Yeran smirked, raising to his feet, his hands skimming her sides as he went.
“You know I will,” Borte turned back around and he undid the rest of the buttons before pushing the dress down until it pooled on the rug. She turned to him and looked up and down him.
“You are still unfortunately clothed. We need to change that. Now,” she pushed his suit blazer off his shoulders and began to attack his button up while he got his pants off. It had been weeks since they had had time to do this and she missed him. Missed the feel of him.
She ran her hands over his bare shoulders, learning him again. She dragged her hands into his chest and guided them down, down.
Before she could get too far, Yeran scooped her up, letting her legs wrap around his hips, and kissed her, softly, passionately as he walked them to the bed and laid her down, her hair spreading around her like a halo and her flowers a crown. She truly was a goddess. Yeran couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that she was here, that she was his wife, that she would be with him and he with her for the rest of their lives.
He kneeled on the floor, moved one of her legs to sit on his shoulder and kissed the inside of her thigh, sending shivers running down her spine as moved closer and closer to where she wanted him. Borte let out a small whimper at the feeling when he reached the apex of her thighs, her hand coming down to grip his hair as he licked up her slit experimentally. She was so, so wet that it was easy to work her open with his tongue, relishing the taste of her as she mewled, her hands tightly fisted in his hair, her leg wrapping around the back of his neck as she shook above him.
It took nearly no time at all for her to find her release and he yet he still kept going until she came again. He was going to keep going but she pushed him away by the hair, her thighs closing when he was removed from between them. Just watching her had him hard, as it had for a long time.
There was only one version of Borte he liked better than a sex-sated one. And that was Borte on her ruk, her braid whipping in the air behind her as her and Arcus raced alongside him. That was a Borte readying for war.
But if there was ever a Borte that blurred the lines between the two, this was it. And his heart felt like it was bursting with the love he felt for her. It was so full it almost hurt.
A red blush spread from her cheeks right down to her breasts that heaved as she tried to catch her breath. He leaned over her to kiss her and she held his cheeks in shaking hands.
“Yeran,” she was breathless as he kissed her neck, gently biting, not hard to break skin, just enough for it to be a mark tomorrow morning. Her hands found their way back into his hair as he moved down to kiss her still-heaving breasts. “Yeran,” she gave a soft tug and he looked up at her. She was his goddess and he wanted to spend the rest of his life worshipping at the altar of her body. She pulled him up to kiss her, opening her thighs to let him settle between them. He moved a hand from her ribs to gently rub her clit. Borte hit his hand away. “Stop teasing, you ass, and… and make love to me,” his eyebrows shot up. Borte had never said anything like that. He didn’t think she knew how to be anything but rough-spoken in bed, but she had always surprised him when he didn’t think he could be surprised.
And, so, he listened. He lined them up and sunk in just his head, making Borte throw her head back, a moan being pulled from her lips. He sunk deeper and deeper, trying not to lose it at the feeling of her wrapped around him and just go hard and fast. No, he wanted to drag this out for her. He leant over and kissed her slowly as he began to rock in and out of her. Her hands found his back and held tight, her nails digging in, as if to steady herself against him. His kissed her, losing himself in the feel of her body, of the love he felt for her with every fibre of his being. He would never understand how she had entranced him so, but he doesn’t think he could have stopped it even if he had wanted to.
He pressed his forehead against hers, kissing her nose gently.
“Borte,” she met his eyes. He could tell that they mirrored the blown-pupil, lust-addled state of hers but he wanted to say what he had to say, without all the pomp and circumstance of their wedding. “I love you,” he thrust into her, pulling a whimper from her lips. “I think I was born to love you,” another thrust, “and I will love you until our lives end,” another thrust, “and I will love you even after that,” he kissed her and thrust again.
He laid his forehead against hers again and had her coming with a cry when he pressed his fingers against her clit. He thrust out his climax a second later, still trying to work her through hers, his lips on hers, her crown of flowers tickling his forehead, her fingernails digging into his shoulders hard enough to break skin, his name on her lips and her name on his.
He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Borte stroked his hair with her lithe fingers and kissed him softly as he lay above her, braced on his elbows.
“I love you. So much it makes it hard to breathe when I see you sometimes. God, I nearly had a heart attack seeing you when I came down the aisle,” she kisses his forehead as he finally has the strength to move. His wife lets out a tiny whimper as he pulls out of her. He kisses her before walking into the bathroom and wetting a small towel. He took care to clean them both up before sitting against his headboard and pulling her against his chest, beginning to gently unweave the flowers from her now severely knotted hair.
“I love you, Borte,” he murmurs against her neck when he’s finally done. He lays them down and pulls her to him, letting her place her head against his chest and sink into his warmth, falling asleep to the rhythm of their hearts beating in time.
Tomorrow, he thought as he ran a hand through her hair, we’re going to wake up and do this again, and then, we’ll start our lives together.
Yeran fell asleep cradling his wife in his arms, with a smile on his face and love in his heart.
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After the Spring Festival Gala, Faye Wong and her stylist made headlines again (2018)
Faye Wong and her stylist have made headlines again. The last time was at the Spring Festival Gala. This time it was for a fashion show. However, the heavenly queen was not there to see the show. Instead, she participated in a catwalk for a private collection released by her stylist.
There was no media invited and no press releases sent out. However, Faye Wong’s makeup artist, Zing, uploaded videos where she was dubbed the guest of the fashion show. The news spread quickly on the strength and ability of the heavenly queen’s power. As the saying goes, “old ginger is hotter than young ginger.”
As you can see from the video, it was a private show for select clients. There was no such thing as a front row. There were people standing, some people sat in chairs, and some simply sat on the floor. There was no T-stage. The models walked from the outdoors into the room. When Faye wore a red robe and walked, she smiled and shouted out “move aside”. This shows how relaxed the atmosphere was.
In another look, Faye wore a purple cloak and also wrapped a scarf on her head and wore colored sunglasses. With her hands in her pockets, her temperament and aura can clearly be seen. However, when she uttered the phrase “sidetracked” with a strong northeast accent, the cold atmosphere turned warm in an instant.
Titi Kwan’s design concept of this season’s 2018 private custom collection named “Heart” was interpreted on his studio’s Weibo as:
Early morning, sky, gardens, fairies, gardeners, sickles, insects, mushrooms… The scene is vivid, the rising sun rises, daydreams stop, and eventually return to reality. Titi’s daydreams are described in 28 styles, an inner fantasy world full of his own, full of elven gardens.
Faye Wong’s catwalk cannot be regarded as something new. Instead, it should be called a return to her old career. After she came to Hong Kong at the age of 18, her first job was not singing. Instead, she first entered model training courses and then became a model. She only worked as a model for a short period of six months. Since her singing career took off, this past is rarely mentioned.
Although she is not a professional model, she has the long legs, physique, and cool temperament for high fashion. Faye Wong has firmly been on the Mainland and Hong Kong’s most stylish throne for more than 20 years. If Faye Wong herself is an excellent fashion player, then Zing, the queen’s makeup artist and Titi Kwan, the queen’s stylist, helped to cultivate her look behind the scenes. For more than 20 years, almost all of Faye Wong’s classic and stunning looks have come from the golden touch of these two artists.
The most recent collaboration was at this year’s Spring Festival Gala. Faye wore a sleek purple dress that was designed by Titi Kwan. The pair of purple “dishwashing” gloves was Titi Kwan’s exclusive vintage selection from Paris.
Although each mention of Titi Kwan will inevitably link his name with Faye Wong, he is not a storyless stylist. He was one of the first Chinese stylists to develop in the Paris fashion industry. He rarely accepts interviews with the media. From the few interviews that can be found, we can piece together his trajectory of fashion development.
His father is a well-known tailor and was an influence on him. He showed off his talent in fashion design early on. When he was 14 years old, he went to Paris to be an apprentice for women’s clothing. He realized that the differences between Paris and Hong Kong’s fashion culture triggered his incentive to stay in Paris and to delve into the world’s top fashion.
At the age of 18, Titi Kwan went to work in a famous hair salon in Paris. Seeing that his boss received a month’s salary for advertising makeup work, he decided to attend Christian Chauveau, a famous makeup school in Paris. After that, he attended Studio BerCot Fashion School, one of the three major fashion design institutes in Paris. This experience laid an important foundation for him to successfully enter the fashion industry in Paris.
In the 1990s, he returned to Hong Kong and met Faye Wong, who was rising up. He started working with Faye on her 1995 album “The Decadent Sounds of Faye,” and became one of the contributors to the legendary “Faye Wong” image.
When Faye Wong opened her concert tour in 1998, she rose from the ground to the air in a red cloak-style coat. The clothes were from Martine Sitbon – Martine Sitbon was Titi Kwan’s fellow student at Studio BerCot.
From 2003 to 2004, Faye held a series of “Faye Unusual" concerts. Titi Kwan went to France and other European countries to purchase pieces and fabrics for the concerts six months ahead of schedule. He successfully gained the sponsorship of Vivienne Westwood. The 10-inch high-heeled shoes were not for sale and Faye was allowed to wear them at her concert.
In 2003, Faye released the MV for “Leave Nothing”, with vintage gothic visuals. The designer of the dress was French designer Madeleine Vionnet. She pioneered the “bias cut” method that still affects generations of fashion designers. Karl Lagerfeld, Miyake, Jean-Paul Gaultier, John Galliano, Vivienne Westwood and other design masters are her "fans.”
Because of his successful cooperation with Faye Wong, Titi Kwan met a lot of Hong Kong artists and began to transform from stylist to designer. When Josie Ho married in 2003, she asked Titi Kwan to create a wedding dress for her. The value of the wedding dress was more than 2 million Hong Kong dollars. The embroidery was created by Chanel and made by the artisans of LeSage, the national treasure embroidery workshop. It took one and a half months of production to complete.
SOURCE: SOHU // TRANSLATED BY: FAYE WONG FUZAO
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Which designer has such a big reputation, that he even got Faye Wong to make a guest appearance in his fashion show? (2018)
In recent years, the very low-key Faye Wong has rarely made public appearances. Even invitations to mainland variety shows have been rumored to be as high as 100 million yuan. However, yesterday both on Instagram and Weibo, photos and videos spread wildly of Faye representing a brand. Which brand has such a big reputation, that it even got Faye Wong?
In the video uploaded by Faye’s makeup artist Zing, Faye wore a red robe and walked into the house at a brisk pace from the outside garden. The people holding cellphones in front of the house blocked the way and Faye funnily told them to “move aside”. This video spread wildly on the Internet yesterday. Everyone said the heavenly queen had the manner of a fashion model.
In fact, Faye was a guest model for the new collection by designer Titi Kwan. Those who know Faye well should not be unfamiliar with the name of Titi Kwan. He is the advisor of Faye Wong’s queen image. Titi Kwan is a fashionista who developed in Paris, France. He once attended Studio BerCot, one of the most famous fashion design institutes in Paris. In 1995, because of an opportunity of coincidence, he became Faye’s image designer. Since then, the two have had close cooperation, and in private they are also close friends who understand each other. Although this time, Faye Wong only changed into two sets of clothing, she has already shown her love and trust in Titi Kwan. I do not know if the two will collaborate again. What kind of surprise will they bring us?
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SOURCE: POPBEE // TRANSLATED BY: FAYE WONG FUZAO
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Wedding Destination
Title: Wedding Destination
Summary: Rebekah and Kol made an excellent team bringing Davina back to life. Now, a small intimate beach wedding is required. Kolvina. Kolbekah. Rebekah/Davina friendship. Mad Love series part 2.
Couple: Kol and Davina
xXx
Rebekah sat patiently, for once in her life, waiting on Davina Claire. Her hand never left the tall champagne glass that kept getting filled for her. The two girls were in a small bridal shop in Hawaii, looking for the perfect dress. It had been a long nine and a half months, but Team Kolbekah had found, and persuaded, a witch to resurrect Davina. From there, it only took two weeks for Kol to propose to his beloved.
xXx
After being alive for a thousand years and dating many women, the youngest Mikaelson was ready to settle down for good with the young witch. He purchased a lovely ring and worked out his plan. In the end, he decided on a simple and sweet proposal. The two went to dinner for the evening and afterwards took a lovely stroll on the beach. While Davina was admiring the night sky and ocean view, Kol got down on one knee. When she had turned around, well, everyone in the area heard her ecstatic response.
Both of the newly engaged decided they didn't want a big wedding. They especially didn't want the rest of Kol's family to witness. Rebekah was the only one who was going to be there, besides the minister. She was going to be both the maid of honour and the best man. The blonde Original was flattered and excited.
Davina and Kol figured they could have a larger party once they returned to the continental US. Davina could find Josh and Marcel and invite them. Kol would have his blood related, and extended, family come too. Excluding Hayley, seeing as how he didn't view her as family. Then everyone could celebrate the young couple and their marriage. Until then, it was going to be kept quiet.
xXx
"All right." The petite witch's voice came from the behind the changing curtain. "I'm ready"
"Let's see it, sweetheart." Rebekah responded, sitting up more alert as Davina exited the changing room.
Her slim figure was draped in a white strapless, silk gown. It fell lightly to the floor and hugged every inch of her. Both girls scrunched up their noses as a way of disagreeing.
"Yeah, no. Not the best for the beach destination you two picked. Try on the next one." The vampire explained her denial. She gulped the rest of the complimentary champagne and poured herself some more.
Davina rolled her eyes playfully and walked back into the more secluded area. Shedding the old dress and placing it gently back on the hanger, she took a moment of silence. She was searching for a wedding dress. She was getting married. She was alive. So much was happening and it was happening so fast.
Of course she wouldn't have it any other way. She loved Kol and now she was marrying him. She never thought this would happen and it was an absolute dream come true. But trying to find the perfect dress was not.
She had already tried on ten and hated every single one of them. None of them were good enough to get married to Kol. When the witch had complained this to her fiance, he simply stated that she could wear her unicorn onesie and he would happily marry her. Now, while that was adorable and sweet, it wasn't what she wanted to hear.
So, Davina turned to Rebekah with her problem. The latter had understood her problem almost immediately. Guess it's a girl thing. The two swiftly became a crack team, planning the perfect wedding.
They were going to be on a beach, so she can't have a ball gown. Kol was more traditional, so her dress couldn't be short. She wanted a pure white, not a variant of off white. She didn't like the mermaid style or strapless. She wouldn't wear heels, or shoes at all. Her hair would be down.
So many different factors had to be told to the lady who had the misfortune of assisting them. The girl tried her hardest, but whatever she brought didn't satisfy the customers.
Hours passed, many dresses were put on and denied. All three working on the project thought the whole thing was hopeless. However, just before leaving, Davina spotted the dress of her dreams. How she didn't notice it before was beyond her knowledge. Instead, she grabbed the dress and tried it on. The beautiful gown got an approval from everyone involved. Rebekah and her future sister in law left happily, excited for the dress to get altered and become ready to wear.
xXx
The day of their wedding was bright and clear. A small section of the beach had been cleared and cleaned for them. The sand squished beneath Kol's bare toes as he waited on the two girls. His tux was made for the beach. He wore light grey dress pants that were rolled up above the ankles with a simple white dress shirt.
The girls remained in the hotel that neighbored the beach. Rebekah had quickly dressed herself in a knee length, baby blue halter dress. Her hair was straight, showing off the shoulder length cut she had recently gotten. A seashell held half her hair back and her makeup stayed light and girly.
After finishing up on herself, the blonde began on the bride. She curled her dark hair, pining it back with the white hair piece they had decided on. The smaller girl's makeup matched the simple, girly theme. Once all her accessories were in place and her hair and makeup were done, they easily slipped Davina into her wedding dress.
The low cut of the dress had turned her off at first, but she quickly grew to love it. The small sleeves rested both on top of and off of her shoulders. The dress flowed all the way to her feet, but remained light, airy, and movable. She looked at herself in the full mirror that rested on the closet door and admired herself. She looked stunning.
xXx
Linking their pale arms together, Rebekah and Davina made their way to the beach. Both were so excited and nervous. It wasn't everyday you got married or witnessed your twin brother get married. The blonde knew that tears would fall from probably everyone. It was unlikely from Kol, but the ladies were prepared for their future waterworks.
Davina took a deep breath and allowed Rebekah to walk her down the imaginary aisle. Her eyes caught the sun beginning to set as the waves elegantly crashed onto the shore. She couldn't help but wish for a moment that Marcel was walking her to Kol. That would most likely never happen, but she still thought about it.
Her mind immediately forgot about what she wished was happening the minute her eyes locked with Kol's. He looked so enchanted by her; so in love. She figured that she sported a similar, if not same, facial expression. He looked so handsome, his muscles gleaming through the light fabric of his dress shirt.
Rebekah watched both of the lovers with a teary eyed smile. She handed Davina over to Kol, whom he gladly took, and stood off to the side.
The bride and groom held each other's' hands, gazing into the other's eyes as the compelled minister spoke. The words blurred by until he asked for vows.
"Davina Claire," Kol started, smiling at the love of his life, "I have been alive for a thousand years, and for every single one of them, I thought my life to be without love. No matter how hard I tried, I was never good enough for it. I had just given up all together. Then I saw you for the first time. The minute I saw you smile, something inside me lit up. I knew, I had to know you, so I did. That was the greatest choice I ever made. Since that day we met, we fell into a passionate, heartbreaking, dangerous, and loving relationship. I was dead inside since I turned, but since knowing you, I feel alive." He wrapped up his vows, placing the silver diamond ring onto its desired finger of his bride.
"Alright, my turn. Give me a second." Davina wiped the tears from her face and blinked hard several times. She took a deep breath and began her vows. "Kol Mikaelson, oh goodness, where do I begin. I lost you so soon after we started dating. I've lost you to so many things. Death, a curse, and even my own death. But, while we may have kept losing each other, we also showed how far we go to find each other. I would go to death and back every single time for you. No matter what obstacles separate us, I know that because we love each other so much, we will go over every single one of them to get back to each other. You are my first love and you will be my last love, and the thought of starting my life with you makes me want to cry of hapiness so bad. Actually, I am crying." All three laughed as Davina wiped more tears away. Kol smiled brightly as she took his hand and slid the ring onto it. Rebekah wasn't even trying to hid the fact that she was sobbing.
"Well, then, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." The minister said. Almost immediately, Kol pulled Davina into a searing kiss as his sister clapped through her crying. When they pulled away, Rebekah tackled both into a hug that sent them all to the ground.
"You did it!" She cried, squishing the newlyweds. They all burst into laughter, and let tears of happiness flow freely.
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You Shall Go To The Ball… | AD
[AD info: this post contains a paid-for advertorial for L’Oreal. Links marked * are affiliate links. Beauty products featured are press samples, fashion items and jewellery are my own apart from the earrings which were gifted.]
I went out-out last Saturday – to a ball. A proper black tie affair that required the hiring of tuxedos (Mr AMR and friends), a special bra (me) and transportation through the muddy lanes of Somerset (all of us). It was an organisational ordeal, if truth be known, especially as we had to leave the house at 17.45 and we were still shooting pictures of me in my dress – for this post – at 17.42. We’re not great at doing things in an ordered manner at the best of times, but throw formality into the mix – a prompt-start drinks reception, a shared cab – and we really show our true chaotic colours.
In actual fact, my preparation for the ball had started a whole week beforehand because I had only recently emerged from the world’s most intense onslaught of minor ailments. And after almost week spent in bed, my face and body looked as though I’d been buried in a sandpit. Or a jar of rice. You know how people drop their iPhone down the loo/in the sink and then put it in rice to dry it out? That’s how I looked. Dried out.
So it was onwards and upwards with a supercharged beautifying routine, including body brushing (haven’t done it in years but I just felt so sluggish and drained, it was rather nice to give myself a vigorous buff) (not a euphemism), hair masks (I’ve been instructed by Kat at Josh Wood to use them on a regular basis if I want my hair to grow out nicely) and – most importantly – some serious facial rehydration.
Now I’m no stranger to a good hydrating serum, but I took things one step further with this post-sickness week of beauty SOS; a 7 day course of intense replumping using the new L’Oreal Revitalift Filler Ampoules. The Revitalift Filler range has always been about serious hydration but these ampoules are on another level, with individual doses of concentrated hyaluronic acid to really leave skin looking smooth and plumptious.
In all honesty, I find that the formula is so concentrated I only need a small amount of each ampoule, so one dose usually does my face, neck and chest three or four times. I’m probably not supposed to say that, but it’s true – you get far more than you’d need for a seven day course. Which is surely no bad thing!
And the results of my SOS 7 Day Cure? Well, the Revitalift Filler Ampoules definitely gave an amazing boost to whatever was applied on top – it was a bit like a hydration supercharge. Everything felt more elastic and bouncy, with the creme de la creme of skincare combos being the Ampoules followed by the Revitalift Filler Night Cream-Mask, which is one of my favourite night treatments of all time. You could have trampolined on my cheeks (facial) the following morning…
I think we all know the drill by now, when it comes to hyaluronic; in terribly simplistic terms it helps your skin to hold onto moisture, helping to plump out fine lines and make your face look smoother and fresher. The Revitalift Filler Ampoules do this admirably – and I must admit to rather liking the 7 Day Cure idea. For those who are about to go on holiday, or have come back from holiday totally weatherbeaten, or who are gearing up for a big event or gearing down for a week of rest, it’s a nice way to remind yourself to give your skin a boost.
You can find the new Revitalift Filler Ampoules at Look Fantastic here – at time of writing they are on offer at £14.99. And I know you’re dying to find out what else was on my face, so let me talk you through my rather frenzied makeup session, which was studded with interruptions and errors.
The base – as usual – was the most enjoyable part; I never tire of buffing in various sheens and shines and pigments to create a glowing, reasonably realistic version of my natural skin. My skin but not knackered. I started with a layer of Charlotte Tilbury’s Flawless Filter in Shade 4*, followed by a light layer of Dior’s new Forever Skin Glow Foundation in Shade 1.5* and the new L’Oreal Infallible More Than Concealer* to take the edge off my dark circles. (It’s great; very creamy but dries to a velvet finish and doesn’t sit in fine lines.)
Cheek colour and contour was courtesy of Kevyn Aucoin Celestial Bronzing Veil in Tropical Nights* and the excellent Life’s A Peach blush from L’Oreal*.
All of that was fine, the base stuff, but when it got to eyes things started to go seriously wrong. First of all I made my usual “going out” mistake: trying to learn a totally new look at the last minute. I thought to myself, I know! I have limited time and I still haven’t defrosted the salmon for the kids’ tea – why don’t I take this opportunity to practice a “cut crease” and also apply some false lashes?
It was disastrous, my friends. By the time I had finished, having applied every matte shadow in existence and used up the last of Mr AMR’s masking tape (don’t ask), I looked like a ninety year old Panto Dame.
Off it all came and I thankfully came to my senses, using the trustworthy (if brow-raisingly expensive) Ombre Blackstar crayons from By Terry* to smudge in a quick and easy smokey eye. (I used a few shades, but you honestly can’t go wrong with these so long as you work reasonably fast. They blend beautifully, have a great non-glittery sheen and don’t move once they’ve set.)
I lined my eyes with Marc Jacobs Highliner in RoCocoa* (one of the very best eyeliners you can buy, in my opinion – soft, sets fast, doesn’t shift ever) and finished off with three coats of the L’Oreal Unlimited mascara (£6.59 here*). I was slow on the uptake with the Unlimited Bendable mascara but it’s actually exemplary at getting to those fine, annoying lashes that usually get overlooked.
And finally, lips. I wanted a nudeish shade but with a hint of peach, but nothing too peachy or corally because then I thought that it would be a bit matchy matchy with the coral in my dress. (Oh, the dilemma!) I am becoming more and more adept at picking out very minute differences in lipstick shades – the tiniest added warmth that can completely change how it looks on me, or a touch too much blue that suddenly drains me of all colour.
So Chanel’s Daylight* was the shade of choice for the ball – understated but not boring.
I admit that I did overline my lips slightly to make them fuller – they had to complete with my massively on-show breasts, after all (see this post) – but I kept the effect soft and pretty, nothing too Showgirls. Just a bit of help where time has nibbled away at my natural lipline. (Ugh! What an image!) I used the Beauty Pie Wondergel Lip Liner in Vanilla Nude* – it’s sheeny but somehow still stays in place. Great stuff.
My hair was painstakingly waved using a heated tong, just to give some “sexy tousled waves”, which is possibly one of the most overused phrases in the beauty industry, along with “pop of colour” and “fresh, glowing skin”. Sorry.
But that’s what I had, the sort of waves that would never happen naturally but happen to look natural. Although why anyone ever called it “bed hair” I’ll never know; my bed hair looks flat and limp, like I’ve slept with a rubber balaclava pulled over my head. (I have no idea whether rubber balaclavas exist, by the way; I mean I’m sure they do but I don’t own one. Just to make that clear.)
Now I’ve had more than a few questions about the dress, which is the Francesca by Issa. I actually think Issa must have shut down, as a luxury brand – I see that they make stuff for House of Fraser, but not as a standalone label, which is a shame. Their dresses were always just spot on for me; cut the way I like them and with the most beautiful prints. The Francesca is a heavily embellished maxi gown that sweeps the floor (not literally: if it did it would be worth every penny) and sinks low at the neckline. I mean it’s not even a neckline really, is it? More of a diaphragm line.
If you want to read more about the intricacies of wearing this dress (ie how I got my boobs to stay up) then there’s a post here; for those who have read that, I’ll move on.
Accessories were kept simple but glamorous – I swapped my usual rings for my special Bvlgari gold and diamond band (a sort of alternative wedding ring from Mr AMR, I did a video on it here) and I wore some brilliant earrings from Isabella Townsley. She makes fine jewellery that’s very modern and cool – if ever you’re looking for something a bit different but you still want to invest in something luxurious then she’s your woman. You can take a look at her collections here – I’m wearing the gold GRLPWR earrings.
Dress, jewellery….what else? The bag was an old one from Anya Hindmarch – I call it my “summer bag” because I only ever crack it out when it’s blazing hot or I’m on holiday, but I made an exception here because it matched the dress so well.
And on my feet I wore some huge clompy sandals! I shouldn’t tell you this because it spoils the illusion, really, but I didn’t want to teeter in massive heels and have to worry about tripping over the long dress, so I decided to remove one potentially life-threatening hazard and wear chunky heels. Honestly, it was like putting cart wheels on a Ferrari. (I’m not comparing myself to a Ferrari here, just the dress!)
You can just about see a toe poking out with the clompsters on. I bought them when I was pregnant with Angelica and they were basically my “pregnant occasion” shoes – safe, chunky, but glittery enough to pass as something special.
So there, illusion shattered completely, that was my outfit and makeup prep. What do you think? It’s so long since I’ve properly “got ready” that I’d forgotten what a faff it is. But I also felt brilliant when I went to the ball – a bit like a different person. So the effort was definitely worth it, even if we were straight back on the Carousel of Illness Doom as soon as we got home. (Mr AMR, bronchitis.)
I was also quite pleased that I didn’t succumb to that “must buy a new expensive dress” feeling that I get every time I have some kind of event. Why is it that occasionwear is so pricey but it’s the stuff we wear the least? It’s the same with shoes; wear trainers all the time, cheap as chips. Need a pair of ridiculous shoes that are too painful to wear more than once: must spend equivalent of entire decade’s wages. Anyone else?
The post You Shall Go To The Ball… | AD appeared first on A Model Recommends.
You Shall Go To The Ball… | AD was first posted on February 23, 2019 at 7:35 pm.
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You Shall Go To The Ball… | AD published first on https://medium.com/@SkinAlley
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How It Started
I have had the same partner-in-crime for over eleven years. Her name is Callie, and she handles me with the patience and precision of a professional violinist. Callie was beautiful once. Years of failure and perhaps sharing a bed with the same person have been unkind to her. Now, she keeps her hair short like a boy’s. It’s easier, she says. She never buys new clothes and has had the same unfashionable pair of eyeglasses for as long as I can remember. She’s a kind woman though, and we’ve made a life together. She understands me better than anyone. In our partnership, she provides stability and reason, whereas I provide intelligence and stamina. I can’t imagine how I’d survive this punch-throwing world without her.
A couple of years ago, I met a woman named M at a board game party. She had beautiful long hair and the gravely voice of a smoker. She was friendly the way women are when they’re trying gauge a man’s relationship status. Her voice, despite its actual words, was asking questions like:
Are you unattached? Sadly, no, I answered in my head.
Do you find me attractive? Certainly.
If I sit here, right next to you, will you enjoy it? Oh god, yes.
Does our witty banter turn you on? Hell, I might just need a cold shower after this. I really might.
M didn’t mean any harm, getting me all riled up with her square on body language and slight leg-touching as we sat on the couch together. New faces never know that Callie is my partner. She looks like a lesbian and handles me like a sibling. M had no idea, and chose to be on my team when we played a childish board game involving trains and coal. The dull heat of how she wanted me stayed trapped in my bones for weeks.
Our mutual friends didn’t invite us to the same thing again until about a year later. It was a bowling outing that they planned because the weather was so cold that no one was doing anything. No parties, no supper clubs, no girls’ or boys’ nights out. M wore all black and was terrible at bowling. We played in the same lane. I took photos of her as an excuse to contact her later. I wasn’t going to let her slip away this time.
When a friend of some other friend, a man, started teasing M, I felt a sour bile rise in my throat and spread everywhere else. Only the most lazy, inexperienced man resorts to pigtail pulling in order to get a girl’s attention. And he was a lump of a man. A thick pink worm with tamped down whisker hair and a fishy lower lip. M responded just enough to make him stick around. She liked the attention but didn’t like him. I shared some lingering smiles with her that night. We commiserated the way two popular, good-looking people do when forced into a certain crowd.
A few days later, I found her on Facebook and sent her the photos. Just saying hello, I said. Just sending proof of your bowling success last weekend, I lied. She was terrible at bowling, and she took the bait. Oh thank you! How’ve you been? she responded. This was how it all started. She didn’t need to be so friendly. She didn’t need to be on my board game team or in my bowling lane. She didn’t know I was ten years older than her. It was M’s desire to connect that really brought us together.
She opened up to me. She sent me long Facebook messages about her parents and her photography and her many worries. It was as though no one had ever really asked her a question before. Maybe they hadn’t. Her words were an exhale of long held breath. A release. I could feel her loosening up behind her keyboard. She asked me questions too, but there was an unwritten contract in them: if I ask you something, you better ask me something back. And I did, again and again and again.
Did I make my intentions clear? I toed the line, much like she did with Lump Man at the bowling alley. I asked if she minded my flirting but at the same time mentioned Callie and our weekend plans. I told her how charming she was while constantly referring to our friendship. Friends, she repeated back to me, now that she knew about Callie. I saw my e-communication mannerisms rub off on her -- their contagiousness proved how much she liked me. She tried, with every smiley face and exclamation point, to make me feel comfortable. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so accommodating.
Our mutual friends, who I might as well name (Joy and Elliot), had plans to throw yet another party just a couple weeks after my correspondence with M began. It was their five-year wedding anniversary. Elliot has a tendency to viciously dismantle Joy for her various shortcomings when he thinks no one is listening. He doesn’t know how well his voice carries from the kitchen to the dining room. Callie and I aren’t married.
The anniversary party was held at a hotel bar downtown. Joy’s parents paid for it. There was an open bar and a small table set with cut vegetables, fried cheese curds, and miniature hamburgers. I arrived with Callie on my arm before M got there. It’s cute, the way Callie dresses up for things like this. She bought some new tights and lined her eyes. Her long earrings looked strange against her short hair -- like a curious son wearing his mother’s lipstick and high heels. I was almost embarrassed for her.
M walked in a short while later, loud and beautiful with zero effort. Her smoker’s voice could have been off-putting in someone else’s body. After a look of panic slid across her face, she located her friends and ran to them. From the other side of the room, I caught her eye and held it. Holding eye contact for five seconds feels like at least twenty. It’s intentional. There’s something about locked eyes that slows time.
After a few minutes I couldn’t wait any longer. I went to her. It was the first time we talked in person since she told me, through the internet, about her terrible sense of direction and her overbearing mother. About the fact that she was a serial dater. That she valued kindness and honesty and despised arrogance and laziness.
“Hello,” I said.
She blushed.
“You don’t have a drink,” I said. “Let’s go to the bar.”
“Yes, what am I even doing?” she asked in her aim-to-please small talk voice. “It’s an open bar and I don’t even have a drink.”
We walked together. I glanced over at Callie. She knew a lot of people here, and the kinder ones complimented the effort she’d put into her appearance. Wow are those earrings new? I love them! And that’s such a cute dress!
M and I got our drinks and silence hung thick between us. I could see how much this irritated her. She’s from the Midwest, and I know from experience that Midwesterners hate conversational lulls. But it was tricky. I didn’t know what to say either. We had shared so much behind computers with miles between us that being just inches apart was overwhelming. She took a long sip of her drink and brightened when she thought of something to say.
“I listened to that album you sent me,” she said quietly. “I really liked it. I actually really like pop music, I mean, there’s a reason why it’s called pop, right?”
I laughed. “I’m glad. I thought you might like it.”
Silence again. M took another sip of her drink.
“How about Joy and Eric?” she finally said. “Five years. Jesus, that’s a long time. I can’t even imagine.”
“I was at their wedding,” I offered, “and--”
“How long have you and Callie been together?” she accidentally interrupted.
I tried not to look irritated but felt myself stiffen. “Callie and I? It feels like forever. Almost eleven years now.”
M smiled. I saw now that she was wearing more makeup than she had at the bowling alley. She stared at the lime in her drink and then looked around the room.
“Oh, that’s my friend Andrew.” She raised herself onto the balls of her feet and waved. “Andrew!” she called. And then to me, “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go say hi. I’ll catch you back here in a bit.”
More people showed up. Everyone took advantage of the open bar. Joy’s parents made multiple toasts. Elliot, in his light pink shirt, below average height, and inability to foot the bill, grew increasingly emasculated as the night went on. At one point, Callie caught me staring at M and playfully rolled her eyes.
“You think she’s cute, don’t you?”
After eleven years, we had no problem discussing harmless crushes, but Callie didn’t know about my Facebook messages with M.
“I mean,” I squeezed Callie’s hand. “She is pretty, don’t you think?”
“She’s hilarious, too. I like her.”
An hour or so later, Callie found me again and yawned.
“Are you staying?” she asked.
“Just a bit longer, I haven’t had this much at a party in a long time.”
“Yeah, this has been fun.” she checked her phone. “Do you mind if I head out? I’m up early tomorrow and I think I’m a little bit drunk.”
“No, that’s fine. I won’t be out too much longer. I’ll grab an Uber home.”
She kissed me. “Have fun,” she said. I watched her find her coat, walk to the elevator, and leave.
I went to the bathroom. My hair looked good. My shirt was still tucked in. I checked my teeth in the mirror. Back at the bar, M was sitting alone. Waiting for me, I told myself, and then shook my head at how corny that sounded. I’ve always been a curious person. Women have made me curious hundreds of times since I’ve been with Callie. For years I’ve endured the aches and pains of possibility.
I sat next to M. “Have you been to this hotel before?”
“No,” she said, “have you?”
“No, but I’ve heard about it. It’s a really old building. They shut it down for a while and it just opened back up recently.”
“Really?” she asked. Her dress was short and her legs were hidden in tights.
“Yeah, apparently there’s a natatorium on the fifth floor.” Earlier that day, I had researched the hotel’s website.
“A natatorium?”
“Yeah, like, a really old swimming pool.” I said with a casual shrug.
M looked worried. A piece of hamburger bun hung from her lower lip. It’s crazy how something like that can be alluring on the right person.
“Want to find it with me?” I asked. “You can take pictures if you bring your phone.” My suit jacket brushed the top of her tight-enclosed leg.
M took a few seconds to think. I was suggesting more than just a chat at the bar surrounded by friends. There would be a tacit understanding if she said yes. There were no miles between us -- no internet conversation she could ignore or run away from. With some of my messages, she’d taken hours to respond. That was absolutely not an option now.
“Sure, that sounds fun,” she said. She bit her nail, pulled her leg away from my suit jacket, and rolled her shoulders back, almost as if preparing for battle.
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