Attack of the Clones | Behind the Seams | Padmé’s Wedding Dress (P-20)
George Lucas wanted Padmé’s wedding dress to be a simple but beautiful gown in an amazing fabric and it took Trisha Biggar quite a long time to fulfil his vision. She decided to give it a pre-Raphaelite feel and thought of lace as the main material but couldn’t find the right fabric until finally her buyer in Australia stumbled onto a century-old Italian lace bedspread from the Edwardian era in a thrift store. However, the cream-colored bed cover wasn’t big enough for the Lucas-authorized design, so the costume designer devised an option with shorter sleeves to fit the amount of material and master embroiders in Sydney made over 300 yards of French-knit braid to blend the vintage elements together with the modern handiwork.
The gown and head piece are studded with hundreds of vintage pearls and the veil itself is made from Maltese lace and includes Edwardian wax flowers and tiny beaded pearls.
Each pearl was actually hand sewn because the night before the wedding scene was to be filmed, Biggar decided the gown needed a little something “extra”. So she pulled an all-nighter and pearled Padmé’s wedding dress herself.
Later she noted that P-20 “was a gown with very simple lines, with an antique feel to it, but at the same time it was quite intricate, probably one of the most complicated dresses, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was made of.”
Like some sort of three-dimensional neon and pastel Mandala, artist duo Nicole Andrijevic and Tanya Schultz use sugar, pigment, polystryene, wax, modeling clay, paper, plastic, found objects, wire, beads, glitter, and much more to fill floors and spaces with their Candyland colored worlds.
hammer, wax candles or wax bead, paper of choice, image of choice printed on computer paper, extra computer paper, exacto knife or scissors, plastic bag (to place your candles in), glue stick, iron, bone folder or knife
1. Begin by smashing your candle sticks (if you do not have wax beads) within the plastic bag. You’ll want to make sure these are small enough to melt down. One candlestick should be more than enough for a few of these.
2. Once you have your wax into small enough pieces, remove the wick and place the wax in between a fold piece of parchment paper. The paper should be large enough to completely sandwich your image .
3. Iron the wax so it is melted in between the sheets being careful not to spill the hot wax.
4. Next, place your selected image in between the parchment paper and completely ensconce the paper with the wax. Make sure to get ride of any bubbles.
5. With your image completely covered in wax, remove from the parchment paper and place in between two clean sheets of computer paper. Iron again to remove any excess wax.
6. Let completely dry and then adhere to your selected fine art paper with a glue stick.
7. Use the bone folder or smooth edge of a knife to adhere properly and remove any air bubbles.
Prompt: Laurens has lots of freckles and the Reader tries to kiss all of them before going to bed.
Pairing: John Laurens x Reader
Word Count: 508
You yawned as you watched another bead of wax roll down the white candle. This was the sixth one you’ve seen while waiting for your husband to finish his work. John had been writing non-stop about freedom for slaves and that wasn’t a bad thing in your eyes. You admired him for his firm beliefs and his unshakeable thoughts to end slavery.
But right now you needed him to come back to bed.
It was the middle of the night and the soft scratching of John’s quill against parchment was boring you to another dimension. “John?” You called softly to the man on the other side of the room.
“Just a second, dear. I’m almost done this paragraph.” John sighed heavily and his writing pace quickened.
You caught yourself wondering if his wrist ever cramped while he wrote at that speed. If that was the case, John never showed it. “John? Please, I’m tired,” You called again as you draped an arm over your eyes.
John hummed and cracked his knuckles, “But-”
“No buts,” You whined, “I just want to cuddle with you.”
John smiled to himself and put down his quill for a moment. “Is that so?” He mused.
You chuckled and rolled over to face the back of his chair. “Can you blame me?”
“Guess not,” John stood up and blew out the candle at his desk, leaving the candle you were previously staring at lit. “I’m the best cuddler in town, you can trust me on that.” He laid down next to you and you smiled at him.
“I don’t know,” You laughed, “I might have to go cuddle everyone else just to make sure.” You felt John sneak his arm under your waist and pull you to his side. He turned his head so his soft breaths fanned over your ear and cheek lovingly.
John kissed your cheek and gave a small laugh, “That won’t be necessary.” In that moment you could swear with the faint candle light shining on John’s face, he was an angel sent by God himself. The lighting also made his best feature the most prominent. His beautiful freckles. His eyes were gazing into yours as you spied on all of the constellations that adorned his face.
Slowly, you leaned up and began to kiss all the stars on his cheeks.
John said nothing and closed his eyes in bliss as he felt your soft lips graze his forehead. It was moments like these that came once in a blue moon and put him in a dreamy state. He was so drunk on your love that he even felt a bit tipsy as you came to a stop.
When you finished, you kissed his lips and shimmied back down to lay on your back.
John kissed the crown of your head and whispered a quiet “I love you” and you barely had any time to say “I love you too” before his gentle snores reached your ears.
It’s a Kind of Magic – AU Tom Hiddleston/Witchcraft Fanfiction/Smut
AU Tom Hiddleston Smut - Sheriff!Tom and OFC.
Witchcraft/Halloween/Salem references and themes.
As the owner of the candle shop East Hampton, Halloween was one of your busiest times of the year, especially when there were a couple of local celebrities that liked to feature their homes in ‘Hamptons Digest’, which meant regular orders that helped promote your products. It did however mean that you were very busy in the weeks beforehand, every spare moment spent in your workshop, heating and pouring the molten wax into moulds and jars. But you weren’t to complain, you loved your work.
You’d shut the shop up at 4pm, which was usual for a Wednesday as all the stores in town closed early that day, made your way home and busied yourself in your workshop, a smile spreading over your face as you stirred the wax beads in the giant saucepan. Really it was a cauldron, and that you heated it over open flames made it seem even more seasonal. You loved Halloween, and were looking forward to spending the next few days in costume, even if the only addition to your normal attire would be a dollar store witch’s hat.
The light was fading and you were starting to get engrossed, the process of melting, pouring, shaping, it was only when the light from outside was so faint you poured the wax into your coffee cup rather than the jars it should have gone into, did you down tools and decide it was time for a break. Taking your now useless cup and walking to the kitchen, as you passed the windows at the front of your cottage you could see the sheriffs car was pulling up outside. You continued through, scooting the ruined chinaware into the trash, and fetching a new mug from the counter, refilling from the coffeepot that had been keeping warm.
There was a knock at the door, and it opened – no-one locked doors around here, so you were used to not having to answer your own door to visitors;
“Sarah, are you home?” Came a soft male voice
“Through here sheriff, in the kitchen” you replied, as Sheriff Hiddleston made in way into the cosy room. “Coffee?”
“Please – it’s been one of those days.” He said with a sigh and plonked himself into a chair at the table. You were used to people just turning up; it was the way round these parts. They came in, you gave them coffee, and in their own time they’d get round to telling you why they were there.
Placing the steaming mug in front of him, you noticed a slight look of concern on his face. As sheriff he knew everyone in town, and he and his deputies regularly checked on all the store owners, but the shadow in his eyes made you pause; “What is it?”
He took a deep breath and let out a sigh; “We’ve had some complaints” He was lent forward in the chair, elbows on his knees.
“Complaints? About what? About me?” You were somewhat puzzled. With the exception of opening from lunch break a couple of minutes late, you were pretty much a model citizen.
“The church group” He started, “They’ve made a complaint that you’re selling black candles. They want me to close your store until after All Hallows Eve”.
You let out a snort. “I take it you told them where they could shove their opinions on black candles? They’re my biggest seller!” you said with a laugh.
“I knew you’d find it funny” He said with a smile, straightening back in his chair and placing his long legs out in front of him, crossing his feet; “I told them I’d have a word, and as they were hinting for a ride to the church, I decided to head here once I dropped them off as I thought you’d want to know”
“Thank you. I look forward to changing the display tomorrow morning before we open” You said with a smirk.
“Sarah… what are you going to do?” The grin spread across his face, knowing he was going to be hearing from the church group tomorrow after they saw how you ‘improved’ the display.
“Well I’ve got a couple of wax skulls left over from when I helped with the props for the high schools version of Macbeth, and I’m sure I can rustle up an inverted crucifix somewhere”
“Yep. Stock up on the Anadin Sheriff!” you said with a laugh. Taking your coffee mug you stepped over his long limbs and made your way to the kitchen door; “I need to finish dipping some tapers, you’re welcome to stay and finish your coffee – you can join me in the workshop if you like?”
You led the way into the workshop, placing your coffee mug out of harm’s way, and started to gather the long tapers you’d moulded the night before. They just needed their colour coating added, and they’d soon dry in time to sell tomorrow.
The sheriff soon followed you, leaning against one of the bookcases as he watched you get to work, as you started to make small talk. As the minutes passed he relaxed and soon you were laughing along with him as he went into further detail of his visit from the church ladies.
“You know, I did point out to them that Salem was a 5 hour drive north from here” he said with a chuckle, “but they were adamant that evil was amongst us”.
You had to laugh at that comment. The church ladies were also one of your main customers, as they liked the pure white candles you made for the altar of the church, especially during the summer wedding season.
“Oh don’t get me wrong sheriff…” you started, only for the sheriff to interrupt;
“Please call me Tom”
“Ok, Tom… anyway, don’t get me wrong, there is evil around us. The cases you hand over to state police will prove that. A couple of the Goth kids that come into my store to get supplies as they call it, ask me for help translating their spells into Latin so that the devil will understand them. Little do they know that all I do is run the recipe for chocolate chip cookies through Google translate into Latin” you said with a laugh
“Evil cookies?” Tom asked, raising an eyebrow
“They’re SINFULLY good” you said with a laugh, turning it into a comedy cackle for effect. “My point is, the kids mothers are part of the church group. Over 300 years on and the church yet again has no clue what is good and what is evil” you said with a sigh, as you continued the hypnotic process of dipping the candles into the cauldron.
Tom nodded in agreement, and quietly went back to watching you work. After a short while he stood up and gestured to his mug; “Refill?”
“Oh, please” you’d forgotten about your coffee, no doubt your mug was stone cold now. Your hands busy with the candles, you nodded to your mug on the side for Tom. He reached around behind you, took the mug, but as he turned his foot caught the rug, and the next thing you knew he was falling onto the floor, mugs falling with him as he went to grab at the table for support, but causing the wax reservoir to start to tumble down with him
“NO!” you screamed – your arms shooting out in front of you, fingers splayed.
Tom hit the floor with a thud and a groan, but his eyes wide in shock. The wax reservoir was frozen mid air, the orange liquid solid like a waterfall in midwinter, paused in time. The mugs also hung above him, very slightly turning as if suspended on fishing wires. As the items hung above him, your fingers started to shake.
“Move!” you cried, “I can’t hold it forever” and with that Tom shuffled along the floor, moving just as your strength failed and the whole lot came crashing down onto the rug where he’d been only seconds before.
As the coffee and wax seeped their way quietly into the wooden fibres, a tense silence hung in the room. Blindly staring at Tom, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours, his jaw hung slack. Your flight or fight instinct kicked in and you ran past him from the room into the kitchen.
Standing at the counter, you reached into the cupboard and grasped the bottle of rum you kept there. Pulling the cork with your teeth you took a long swig, stopping when you heard footsteps enter the room behind you, but not turning. Your eyes misted over. As a tear slid down your cheek your late mothers words echoed through your mind; ‘Never reveal’.
“Sarah…” Tom’s gentle voice behind you, softly saying your name. You chose to ignore it, raising the bottle to your lips again, feeling the liquid burn down your throat.
“Sarah. Look at me”.
“Tom, please just go” you sobbed out, your back still turned to him, you released the bottle and wrapped your arms around yourself, tears now silently rolling down your cheeks. You went to reach for the bottle again, but your fingers just grasped thin air. You spun round, to see the bottle in Tom’s hands.
“Sarah” he said with a smile, as be brought the bottle to his lips, drinking deeply, then releasing it mid air, only for it to float back to the counter next to you.
You didn’t know what to think, what to say, as you stared at the striking man standing in your kitchen “I… you… the bottle…”
Within a couple of strides he was stood in front of you, and placed his hands on your shoulders, looking deep into your eyes.
“Let me guess, the words never reveal are reverberating around your head right about now?”
“How did you…”
“Why do you think I returned back here after college? Take up this job when I could have chosen to stay in the city?” He paused, “I can remember how clumsy you were in High School, yet never broke anything. I used to sit behind you in chemistry and would watch as time after time you’d knock things over, only for them to suddenly right themselves. You see my family is from old Salem stock too. You don’t have to hide anymore Sarah”
Looking up at his blue eyes, something between a sob and a laugh escaped your lips. A sudden sense of relief spread over you. You’d known the history of your family did indeed go back to the witch trials, you were named after one of your ancestors that had suffered greatly, and you had known that a number of families in the area were descended from the same location.
As he stared into your soul, he lowered his lips to yours, the kiss soft, and the gentle rub of his stubble against your chin exciting you. The kiss deepened as you clung to his uniform, his body pushing against yours, pressing you up against the cupboards. Something hard pushed against your thigh making you cry out a little;
“Tom, your baton, its pressing against me”
He chuckled to himself “Sarah, ehehehehe, if you look my baton is sat on the table, next to my hat”
“Oh….. OH!” realisation hitting you as colour spread to your cheeks.
Tom bent down again, kissing the side of your neck, his scruff rubbing against you making you groan with pleasure. As he slightly nibbled at the sensitive flesh you gasped and your fingers tensed. A crash sounded behind you as one of the vases from the windowsill had leapt at your fingers command.
Looking over Tom’s shoulder you could see various objects floating mid air, hung there by the magic in the room;
“Look” gesturing to the room.
As he looked round, he grinned at you;
“Ok, so just relax. Gently pull your fingers to the floor” he said, watching as you lowered your hands, safely lowering the debris that had gathered. “You’re not used to using your magic are you?” he asked.
“I don’t get much opportunity to practice”
“Ok, look, I’ll teach you”. As he held you in his arms, he spoke softly “Think of one thing in the room, and that object alone. Close your eyes”
You close your eyes and listened to his voice.
“Now gently lift it through your mind… oh, the hat, good choice, at least it’s not breakable! Ok now breathe, that’s it.”
You slowly opened your eyes, and you could see his brimmed hat hovering over the table. He continued with his instruction;
“Now think of it slowly sliding, use your mind to move it”
The hat slightly bobbed around it a bit, before you managed to get it to slowly move towards the pair of you. Soon it was hovering over your head, and you slowly lowered it so that it was perched on top of your chestnut tresses.
“How was that?” you said with a smile, pleased with yourself. When you’d tried to move things in the past they had generally gone flying into the nearest wall and smashed to smithereens.
“Very good. Looks like I’ve got a few more things to teach you before you’re as good as me, but you’ll get there” he said with a smirk.
You pretended to look offended “As good as you? Yeah right buddy”
“You don’t believe me?” he said with a smirk, putting his hand into his shirt pocket and pulling out a scrap of black material trimmed with red lace. It took a couple of seconds for you to realise it was the thong you were wearing. Correction, the thong you had been wearing. You pressed your legs together, feeling a slickness between your thighs, and the smooth feeling of no underwear.
“Oh that was sly” you said with a smile as you pulled him down and kissed him, pressing your body to his, feeling his hardness press against your thigh even through his uniform and your skirt. His hands strayed to your hips and grasped your buttocks, lifting you up into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he turned and stepped to the table, placing you on it whilst his lips never broke contact with yours.
Passion was taking over as you pulled at each other’s clothing, you hastily worked on the buttons of his shirt, pulling it from his waist and pushing it down his arms, as he rid you of your sweater, both strewn carelessly beyond your reach. Working at the buckle of his belt, you released it, the weight of the utility belt pulling his trousers to the floor and revealing he’d been without underwear, as his hands slid up your legs, pushing your skirts up around your waist.
He bent down and pressing his lips to your inner thigh, peppering it with kisses as he went deeper, his breath hot on your skin, until you felt his soft touch on the lips of your pussy. Widening your legs, you ran your fingers through his auburn curls, steadying yourself with one hand on the table as you felt his tongue swipe up between your folds, tasting you, reaching your clit. He pressed his lips to it and suckled, causing you to grasp at his curls and push your hips forward, craving further contact. You felt his long finger working at your entrance, running around the rim, pulling juices from within, before sliding deep within you, the feeling making you gasp for air as he curled it within you, the long digit hitting your g-spot.
As his other hand clamped down on your thigh to hold you still, he continued his assault, bringing you closer and closer to that glorious peak. You felt a second finger join the first, stretching you, working their way in and out, teasingly slow, his lips and tongue never relinquishing their attack on that hyper sensitive button.
It was all too much, your thighs clamped onto Tom head and your fingers clung to his scalp as you came in wave after wave of pleasure, crying his name over and over.
Your supporting arm gave way and you fell back against the tabletop, panting and breathless. Tom stood over you and pulled you slightly to the edge of the table, before he bent over you and placed and gentle kiss on your cheek. You turned and met his kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue, as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, relishing the weight of him pressing you down.
“Ready for more?” he said with a grin
“Bring it on magic boy”
He straightened himself and pulled on your thighs until your butt was just at the edge of the table, he reached up and pulled the bodice of your top down, exposing your tits, bending down to tease each nipple slowly with his lips. You threw your head back, the feeling of his lips on those sensitive pink buds building the pleasure within you again, crying out occasionally as his teeth made contact. He stood back again, and as you watched he aligned his straining cock with your soaking entrance. Pushing in slowly, you both stared as the thick girth of it disappeared within you, stretching you, making you groan as you slowly felt every ridge and vein slide against your walls.
He pulled you closer with a sudden sharpness, and thrust deep inside, making you squeal with pleasure, again, and again, increasing his pace until he was rocking the entire table, ramming into you at a punishing pace. He pulled one of your legs up and over his shoulder, making his angle even deeper, slamming into you, making your tits bounce, and watching them move as he plunged in again and again.
You could feel the tightness in your belly gathering, your second orgasm was going to be a thundering one. You reached out for something – anything – to grip onto, but your fingers just clawed at the table top, unable to grasp anything to get any purchase.
You were both getting close, Tom crying your name over and over, his hand moved down your thigh and pressed against your clit, sending you over the edge, your muscles clamping down onto his cock as it continued its punishment. This set Tom off, throwing his head back, thrusting into you as your muscles clung to him, your mixed cries of pleasure echoing around the room as he emptied himself deep within you.
As a quiet descended around the pair of you, you could hear the scrape of wood against floor tile, and saw one of the chairs moving to behind Tom, just in time as his legs gave way and he slumped down, his dripping cock laying between his legs, you still splayed on the table, your chest heaving, the evidence of your lovemaking slowly flowing out of you as you laid there splayed on the surface.
After a few moments you sat up, and pushed your legs to the floor. Slightly wobbly and light headed you swayed a little, only for Tom to steady you, just as our legs gave way and you handed spread over his lap. He let out a soft chuckle;
“Ehehehehe. So Sarah, need a break before we start the next lesson?” he said with a grin.
Although your body was exhausted, a tiny spark of desire lit up within you;
“I think our next lesson should be somewhere slightly more comfortable” you said with a grin “and I think I’ll be using these two” as you held out a finger, the handcuffs from his belt softly hooked themselves over your extended digit.
“Oh I like the sound of that” Tom said with a smile “But only if you keep your boots on” gesturing to the knee high boots you were still wearing.
“Nothing else?” you asked with a smirk
“Well perhaps that cheap witches hat I saw on the table by the front door” he said, before leaning in to kiss you gently.
He lifted himself out of the chair, taking you with him as we went, carrying you in his arms to your bedroom. So this is what they meant by beware the witching hour you realised, preparing yourself for what adventures that lay ahead of you for the rest of the night.
This year Halloween was certainly going to be the best one for a long time!
Made from weapons of conflict from Cambodia, one of the most bombed countries in the history of mankind through fair-trade artisans in Cambodia. Proceeds goes towards 9 meals for disadvantaged children of Cambodia.
Link to the Purple Buddha Project Indiegogo Campaign