I mean, sure, we all know the soft, pink, satin-covered, porcelain Aphrodite with Her delicate lingerie and rosy cheeks but just imagine the leather-clad, rhinestone-studded, blood red, lipstick-stained Aphrodite with Her big hair, 6-inch heels, thick eyeliner and a cigarette hanging out of Her mouth stepping down from a jet black Harley outside a glam metal concert or some dingy inner-city bar with the taste of dark rum and sin on Her lips like wow, just imagine…
A Reville Ltd of Paris couture court dress and train, circa 1928,
Labelled Reville Ltd, and with inscribed ribbon label ‘Lady Holcroft’, the extensively beaded flapper-style dress in black and white seed beads with clear droplet beads, the bodice and waist defined by rhinestone studded bands, the matching train in dramatic black and white with foliate bands, edged in black velvet; together with court presentation plumes and veils and an ostrich feather fan (qty) This dress was worn by Lady Annie Holcroft at the Presentation Court of 9th May 1928.
A voided velvet ceremonial train, probably Worth, late 19th century, probably worn by Lady Margaret Etienne Hannah, (Peggy) Primrose, daughter of the 5th Earl of Rosebery for her marriage to the 1st Marquess of Crewe, Robert Crewe-Milnes in 1899, woven with ivory velvet renaissance style palmettes on an ice-blue damask satin ground studded with rhinestone flowerheads, silver sequins
Hello! Love your blog sweetie ~:) Could you make something like the boys of RFA teaching MC how to drive a car? I'd be so cute.<3
Ok… he is super nervous here. He doesn’t even feel confident driving himself, but now he has to teach his datemate to drive? HOLY MOLY he’s being rocketed into adulthood w a y too fast.
(on the other hand tho he’s really excited to show you how manly and responsible he can be, so he puts on a brave face so you feel comfortable relying on him)
The first days in the car go fine - but it’s just parking lot practice. Turning, stopping, starting - it’s all the basic stuff.
Yoosung is entirely content to keep going like this forever but you’re getting impatient.
you want to drive.
He takes you out of the city into the backroads and
don’t freak out Yoosung
don’t freak out
you have to turn and shit don’t freak out
He ends up thinking of this as a driving game he’s trying to teach you. It makes it easier - and his reaction time is really good from his hobbies, so when you inevitably make a mistake, it’s easy for him to catch the wheel and correct you.
His legs are shaking each time he gets out of the car, but he keeps that straight face on while it’s important… and your smile each time he says you’re getting better makes it worth it.
Zen’s the perfect teacher, except when he gets distracted checking himself out in the rear view mirror.
In fact, you’re doing so well… that you drop the real reason why you wanted Zen to be your vehicular mentor.
“Zen, I want to drive the motorcycle.”
because it’s dangerous!
but it’s so cool.
(Zen gets a nosebleed thinking about you on his motorcycle. You’re right it’d be cool.)
You’ve sat behind him enough times while on the motorcycle that you know what you want, and you end up getting it.
Zen realizes the first time he rides with you - with him sitting behind you - that he’s been missing out on so much, and ohhh yeah you’re really attractive right now.
Insists on teaching you in one of his super expensive babies. You are understandably nervous because what if you ruin his car, but nope, only the best for his main babe.
this gets you stopped by the police at least once.
“no officer i’m not drunk i’m just learning to drive”
“NO SEVEN WE ARE NOT BOOKING IT AWAY FROM THE POLICE”
He’s actually making tons of jokes to cover up his nervousness at teaching you to drive and eventually you’ve got to snap at him to christ please focus I need to pay attention.
Once you get more comfortable though it’s lots of fun and you look forward to it.
One day, you and Seven are at the mall and you find sunglasses studded with rhinestones and you’re like
we need those
So you and Seven start wearing matching sunglasses in the car. He puts the top down. You feel totally fly.
(SEVEN WE ARE NOT GOING TO START A DRAG RACE)
Calm, cool, professional - basically always feels 100% in control and she’s really comforting to have in the passenger seat.
Though, when other drivers are shitty to you for your inexperience she gets really salty
Like if you get honked at for going at the speed limit or for staying at a light too long she’s like
haha yeah eat a bag of walnuts and die pal
Hangs a nice chart of your driving practice/goals on the refrigerator to motivate you.
Keeps stress-chocolate in the glove compartment. Whenever you take driving breaks she gives you one because learning to drive is scary.
super supportive when you’re discouraged like
“Think of how free you’ll be, being able to drive.”
“We’ll be able to take that road trip you’ve always wanted now.”
“When I finally burn down Jumin’s house in a final act of defiance, we’ll be able to live on the road like a pair of western outlaws.”
wait what Jaehee
(Jaehee says that was a joke she doesn’t advocate for arson.)
Anyway yeah, Jaehee is a 10/10 teacher and if someone calls her for work while she’s out with you, she can tell them this is important h e c k off
That could be a wondrous thing, or a terrible, terrible thing.
Proko wasn’t sure which possibility he liked more, and he snuggled deeper into Kavinsky’s chest, both of them sprawled out on the sofa, chest to chest beneath a mass of blankets, the TV blaring some oversexed rap video that neither of them were paying any attention to.
When it was clear that Proko was interested, K reached beneath the couch to pull out a parcel wrapped in glittering purple tissue paper, and he promptly pressed it into Proko’s hands.
“You dreamed it for me?”
“Gotta take care of my baby, yeah?”
Wondrous or terrible. It was a risk Proko was willing to take. He was always willing to take a risk for K. Turning onto his side and pressing his fingers to glitter, he shot K a sidelong glance, saying, “If it’s another sex toy–”
“Enough is never enough when it comes to sex toys,” was K’s defense.
It was as sound as any, Proko supposed, and with a roll of frosty eyes, he tore through the layers of tissue paper to the large circle at the heart of the mass.
It was pale pink, made of soft, buttery leather and studded with rhinestones. Opposite the buckle was a D-ring large enough to fit a leash through. Hanging from it was a tag, heart-shaped, which read Daddy’s Little Princess.
It was a collar, it was thoroughly demeaning, and Proko pressed it back into K’s hands, pleading, “Put it on me.”
This morning was a bit stressful, but my direct boss let me know the Director of Ops told him that our department is killing it; I guess we’re being held as a sort of measuring stick for the other departments at the moment. It’s nice to hear that for a change; seems like we’re always a bit under the needle.
This week is CMA Fest AND the home games for the Preds. At this rate I feel like Nashville and Atlanta traffic will simply converge and form one long line of pissed-off transplants pretending like they’re not part of the problem.
Sundresses, cowboy boots, rhinestone-studded jeans, rhinestone-studded shirts, cowboy hats. Sunburns. Stale cigarettes. Pedi-taverns. That’s all next week will be.
I’m just sitting here, reading about what’s going on in this country and silently freaking out. How has it not even been a fucking year yet?
The Warriors are too damn good and I feel like when I talk hoops I might as well @ @road-twitch and @hat-tee
Also, hi! Feel like I haven’t been as present on here, but I like keeping up with y’all and I genuinely hope you’re having a wonderful Friday.
this is just me getting out some important meg turney feelings i love her v much okay thanks for listening
Meg Turney was an aesthetic sort of person. There was no doubt about that.
Baby doll dresses and heels that gave her walk an extra flirty, commanding lilt, her hair in pretty curls that framed her pretty face. She loved things that exuded luxury, she enjoyed when people knew she was one of the have’s, not the have-not’s. Probably a result of growing up one of eleven in a family that never had quite enough to suit her tastes and probably one of the reasons she got into this business.
It could be something left over from her modeling days, when aestheticism was her bread and butter, but she had always had an appreciation for things that were pretty.
She also had a penchant for irony, which is probably why she was an ex-model turned criminal and why beauty was laced into everything she did.
She had lots of glitter in her wardrobe, but accessories were her favorite. She had guns in all sorts of pastel colors, her favorite car was a baby pink mustang with an all-white interior that she’d 100% gut someone for getting dirty, and she has a special person in the nearby laundromat who takes special care of all her blood-and-other-gore-stained clothes. “Like a mob doctor, but for clothes,” as Jack always teased.
Her favorite example, however, was her knife collection. Griffon sometimes questioned the logic of having beautifully-crafted and easily identifiable knives as one of her weapons of choice, especially considering she insisted on going back to retrieve most of them (the only ones she left behind were ones she left as calling cards) because they were expensive as fuck and she was really attached to them. But to her, it was all worth it.
The sight of some huge lug, who very clearly underestimated her and thought he would simply scare her into submission, bleeding out on the floor with one of her beautiful knives, with roses carved into the marble hilt, lodged in his chest, some of the white petals getting painted in red with his retreating life, gave her such a rush.
Meg didn’t just use her knives for killing, though that was probably her favorite use for them (perhaps that’s why her and Ryan got along so well.)
Meg loved to scare everyone she knew and loved just a little bit, so she liked to show off her knives, her pretty, delicate killing tools as much as possible. She would peel fruit with them, hem dresses with them (“Cosplay isn’t cheap, you know, and I’d rather spend money on fabric than a new pair of scissors”,) and, on one memorable occasion, had enlisted Mica and Lindsay who had graciously trusted her enough to let her trim their ends with her favorite blade while the boys watched.
Besides that, she especially liked leaving them around specifically with the intention of them being found by people she wanted to find them.
The first time she’d ever left a knife for someone to find, it had been in the center of the bed of some frat boy asshole whose dad owned the jewelry shop she’d been scoping out for weeks. All she’d had to do was flutter her eyelashes and ask for a drink before she’d trapped him, acting captivated all night as he bragged endlessly about his dad’s store and spilling what he thought to be inconsequential information in the hands of some random, ditzy girl he’d met in a bar.
She’d let him take her home, let him eat her out for his troubles before looting the place and sneaking out before dawn, but not before leaving her blade hilt-deep in his bedsheets, with a note that said “Made you look <3” in red lipstick under the blade.
Meg found she liked using her blades as a calling card when the situation called for it, a signature all her own.
She left behind notes tacked to the walls by knives quite often while she was freelancing. More often than not, the notes were for The Vagabond, with whom she was frequently partnered for jobs (because the results were usually impeccable) and whom she’d grown very fond of very quickly.
She didn’t tend to stick around after jobs she collaborated on, just took her share and left without stopping to exchange pleasantries once her part was finished. The Vagabond, or Ryan, as she’d come to know him as, privileged information she was honored to know, was the only person who made her wish she would.
She couldn’t though, she knew that, not yet. There was still too much at stake for her, knew that no one was truly here to make friends and she was not about to lose everything she’d worked for because she’d wanted a companion.
So Meg left little notes where she knew he’d find them, little goodbyes that became “see you later’s” that became just any old thought that popped into her mind because she knew she’d see Ryan again.
“I saw all the Diet Coke cans you have stashed in the backseat of your car. Savage.”
“I’m always peckish right after these jobs. Next time, you bring coffee, I’ll bring doughnuts?”
“I don’t care how comfortable they are. I will not be seen on a job with you in those disgusting Dad shoes again.”
(That was a particular favorite, because she knew Ryan woke up the next morning with a video on his phone of his gross waiter shoes going up on flames in the middle of an undisclosed warehouse in West Los Santos. He’d shown up to their next job in, unsurprisingly, another pair of Dad shoes, she’d shown up with a shoebox and a pair of custom Diet Coke converse for him to wear. To her delight, he did.)
Every time they met up for a new job, he would hand her back the knife she’d left behind on the last one, a smile sparkling in the eyes behind the mask.
Then Ryan settled down with a crew and she went from seeing him a couple of times a month to not at all, and that was awful.
Then she’d gotten an offer from Geoff and Griffon Ramsey, patriarch and matriarch of one of the most infamous organized crime syndicates on the West Coast, who claimed an “anonymous” tip led them to her, and she decided that maybe she’d spent enough time on her own.
Meg moved into the Ramseys’ enormous penthouse, got her own room just down the hall from Ryan, and suddenly the infamous Baby Doll had a dollhouse all her own.
The Fake AH Crew quickly became accustomed to finding painstakingly detailed and jewel-encrusted knives in random places, almost always with notes attached.
She left a rhinestone-studded knife stuck in the center of a plate of leftover lasagna, claiming it as her own. She then left the same knife, now blood-stained, speared in the center of the stainless steel refrigerator with a note that read “WHOEVER ATE MY LASAGNA, I WILL FIND YOU AND I WILL DESTROY YOU.”
She stuck notes on Trevor’s door, reminding him that Galavant was on that night at eight and he’d better be ready for some show tunes. When Galavant was on break, she made sure he knew that Reign was on in a few hours.
When Jack was out on recon, she left the curling iron she’d borrowed with its cord wrapped around the knife stuck in her bedroom door, with a note telling her thanks for letting me use this, there’s cookies on the counter if she was hungry, also they were out of tampons. Jack delicately reminded her that that information may be better shared via text, while she was still out and able to pick some up before coming home, and Meg agreed.
Meg got on with the Fake AH Crew like a house on fire, they were the family she thought she wouldn’t have after she let hers behind, but as much as she loved them, they only saw a fraction of her knife post-its. Most of her messages were left behind explicitly for Gavin, Michael, and Lindsay.
If leaving L.A., becoming a criminal, and joining the Fake AH Crew felt like a puzzle piece sliding into place, meeting Lindsay, Gavin, and Michael felt like three more puzzle pieces connecting themselves to her and completing the whole damn picture.
A good chunk of their conversations were verbally continuing a thought Meg had left on a piece of paper tacked to a wall somewhere.
It might be a “I don’t know if Birdo is transgender, Meg, but I do know that you’re coming to bed and we’re taking a nap right now” or a “Turney, I don’t care if you don’t like it, I’m keeping the beard” or a “Hey, I got your note, I’m at the store now and I don’t see Land Before Time VIII, will you settle for Cats Don’t Dance?” Sometimes they would forget to tell Meg that they were answering a question she’d asked on a note and they’d have to backtrack and remind her.
Even worse, they had developed what Ray sneeringly referred to as their “super secret queer knife language,” which didn’t even require any paper notes. Meg would just leave certain knives around their room or the penthouse and miraculously, the other three were able to decipher what she wanted based off of it.
Meg’s switchblade with the hilt designed to look like a marble column was met with a text from Michael asking her what kind of food she wants him to bring her, he’ll head out in a minute.
Her black knife with the grip that was carved to look like a black cat wedged into the wall right next to the front door let Lindsay know she had a cat video to show her and to come to their room immediately. Her butterfly knife decorated with actual, crystallized butterfly wings (a gift from when some of the Starbomb gang had visited) lodged in their door meant she was having some sort of emotional breakdown, “butterflies” in her stomach and that she needed one, two, or all of them, whoever was available, for cuddles, STAT.
Her double-sided knife that had flowers carved into the hilt was a promise, a tease, a request to have all the necessary supplies for a fun night, and Geoff gagged every time he saw it.
The best, however, was when Michael, Lindsay, and Gavin found one of her hundreds of throwing knives, small, compact, with pastel ribbons wrapped about the grip and hanging like streamers from the ring on the end. She left them discreetly, in places only they would find them.
Holding up Michael’s leather jacket on a hanger in the wall, letting him know she’d been able to use club soda to get the bloodstains out, or snuck into his duffel bag when he had to go away for a few days (he now had one of them hanging from his rearview mirror.)
She left one standing upright in the desk next to Gavin’s mouse of his ridiculous computer set-up, with a cupcake and a note reminding him to “take a shower for Christ’s sake, it’s been days and you are ready for this heist, I promise.”
Shoved into the mattress next to a brand new dress Meg had bought for Lindsay, a pair of matching shoes and purse lying next to it, with a note that read “Be ready by 7, I’m taking you out on a date <3.” Little “I love you’s” and reminders that she was thinking of them, relayed to them with the same tools she’d used to stop someone’s heart. A “you take my breath away” with something she’d used to do just that.
i might put this on ao3 i don’t know let me know if y’all like that
p.s. the butterfly butterfly knife was given to meg by suzy from game grumps if you couldn’t tell bc she sells bug things
p.p.s. made a cats don’t dance reference bc natalie cole just died rip
A/N: For my lovely “Prom Girl” - this one’s for you, beautiful! I hope you enjoy it :)
You were riding in the car with
your boyfriend, Spencer – you were called to a crime scene that evening right
in the middle of your dinner. It was an unexpected case, so you had no time to
meet up with the team at the BAU and just had to go straight to the crime
“So, I quickly read over the
report Hotch sent us before we left. It appears we have a serial on our hands;
almost five women in the last two weeks have been found floating in some sort
of lake all within this ten mile radius. All brunette with similar facial
features…” Spencer trailed off when he noticed that you weren’t paying
A scene had caught your eye when
you were stopped at a stop light. It was a group of teenagers all dressed up –
boys in their suits and ties, girls in their ballroom dresses and high heels… clearly
they were on their way to prom. You couldn’t help but feel a bit of pain when
“Hey, are you okay?” Spencer
His voice made you come back to
reality. “What? Oh yeah, I’m fine…”
“You were staring at those kids
an awful long time… are you sure everything is okay?” Spencer asked, still
You laid your head back and gave
out a weak laugh. “It’s silly, but I’m almost envious of those kids… I never
got to go to a prom in high school”
Spencer’s eyes widened. Even as
a 12 year old in high school, he still made it to prom. “Why didn’t you ever go
to prom?” Spencer asked in disbelief.
You smiled and turned your head
towards Spencer driving. “Boys didn’t like me in high school, Spence. No one
ever asked me so I just didn’t go”
“Boys didn’t like you?! How is
that even possible…” he muttered under is breathe.
Spencer had told you many times
how you were the most beautiful girl in the world – you had a hard time
believing that but Spencer insisted that it was true. He loved the way your
long hair flowed across your back, the way your lips pouted when you didn’t get
what you wanted, and the way your eyes squinted when you smiled. Your body was
like a temple to him.
“At the time I was mortified…
all of my friends managed to get dates. I felt like I was the only one in the
school that didn’t go… I was dead set on the fact that I was never going to
find love. I cried to my mom all that night… That no boy would ever tell me how
beautiful I was or tell me how beautiful I looked in my dress… that was until I
met you of course” you both looked at each other with a smile.
Spencer grabbed your hand and
squeezed it tightly. “You deserve nothing but the best, beautiful” he said as he
brought you hand to his lips and kissed it lightly.
He knew that despite your
nonchalance towards not going to prom, he could tell that it made you sad.
Almost as if you felt like you had missed a big chunk of your teenage years.
He drove silently as he thought
about what he was going to do next.
“Spence, I hope this place you’re
taking me to is really as fancy as you say it is…” you said as you walked out
of your bedroom and into the living room to show Spencer what you were wearing.
It was a tightly-fitted light
blue strapless floor length dress – a slit ran up the side of your leg,
revealing your rhinestone studded high heels which matched your rhinestone
studded choker around your neck. Your hair was up in a low bun with loose curls
falling in your face, and your make up was a little heavier than you were used
to having it.
Spencer’s face said it all.
“I, uh… oh wow, Y/N you just
look…” Spencer could barely get words out. You could see sweat starting to
collect on his forehead and wondered what could be making him so nervous – it
wasn’t like you’d never been on such a fancy date before.
“I’m going to take your loss of
words as a good thing, Dr. Reid” you said as you wrapped your arms around his
neck and pulled him in for a kiss.
Spencer was looking incredible
himself. He wore a plain black suit and a skinny black tie – his hair was
nearly shoulder length and curly, just how you liked it. He even grew out his
scruff, knowing how much you loved when it tickled you when you kissed. Thrown
over all of that was his favorite purple scarf that you stole occasionally to
Hand in hand, you walked to the
elevator of your apartment building. But instead of pushing the down button to
get to the main floor and your car, Spencer pressed the button going up – the
floor that would get you to the roof.
“Spencer, you just pushed the
button to go to the roof…” you said, confused. Spencer just stood there silently
smiling, still holding your hand.
Once you got to the roof,
Spencer got out of the elevator and pulled you along with him. But once he
opened the door to outside, you understood why he had done what he did.
The rooftop was decorated
heavily with strings of lights, a table full of refreshments, soft music
playing in the background, and most importantly, the rest of the team was there
all dressed up and ready for your own personal prom.
“A night to remember…” you
breathed out as you read the large banner you were sure that Penelope must have
made. Tears welled up in your eyes as you turned to Spencer. “That was the
theme of my prom my senior year”
“I know… I had to search through
your yearbooks to figure that one out” he chuckled. “When I found out that you
never had a prom, I immediately knew that I had to fix that… and of course the
team wanted to, too” he said as you both looked at all of their smiling faces.
You wrapped Spencer up in your
arms and squeezed him tightly. “Thank you so much… this is greater than
anything I could have possibly imagined” you said as a tear slid down your cheek.
You went around and thanked the
rest of the team for helping put all of this together – they were all so
supportive and eager to dance the night away with you and give you a true night
All night, upbeat music blared
on top of your roof as you and the people you loved most danced the night away.
The first slow song finally played, and it just so happened to be you and
Spencer’s “song” – All of Me by John Legend.
Spencer’s arms circled around
your waist as he pulled you closer to him. Your arms wrapped around his neck,
making your faces only inches away from one another.
“Spence, I can’t thank you
enough for all of this… I mean, I can guarantee that this is better than any
prom that’s ever been thrown” you said with a laugh.
He chuckled as well. “Everyone
has been saying that they wish their prom could have been this good. Oh, and I’m
pretty sure that Derek spiked the punch” he nervously giggled.
You laughed along with Spencer,
but you could still see that he was feeling uneasy. “What’s wrong, Spence?” you
almost whispered. He stopped you two from swaying and took a big gulp.
“Absolutely nothing is wrong,
Y/N… In fact everything is just perfect…” he said as he reached into his pocket
and kneeled onto the ground. Your hands flew up to your mouth, knowing what was
about to happen.
“Tonight was all about showing
you that missing prom isn’t everything… in fact, I believe weddings are much
more memorable than prom…” Spencer’s smile widened as tears of excitement
streamed down your face.
“Y/N, you are my everything – my
best friend, my support system, the one that can cheer me up after a bad day,
and someone I can really be myself around… I couldn’t imagine my life without
you, and I want to make sure that I never spend another day without you… will
you marry me?”
“Yes, Spencer, yes!” you
exclaimed as Spencer got off of his knee. He lips immediately found yours as
you heard your friends around you cheering excitedly.
Your kiss broke apart when
Spencer took the beautiful diamond out of its box and slid it onto your finger –
it was a perfect fit.
Just like you knew that Spencer
was perfectly fitted for you.