How To Make A DIY Aphmau Dress At Home?

I've been pregnant for six months, but my Alpha mate, William, has delayed our mating ceremony 29 times. He's waiting for his adopted sister, Rita, to find a mate so they can have a "two-couple mating ceremony." The 30th time I altered the waist of my beloved mating ceremony dress, the bridal shop assistant looked embarrassed, "Miss, this dress really can't be widened anymore. How about you choose another one?" Disappointment rose in my throat like bile. I called William, asking when the ceremony would finally happen. But William said: "I will give you an unforgettable mating ceremony, but Rita's mate hasn't been matched yet. Darling, can you wait a little longer? We shouldn't ruin her whole life over such a small thing, right? I know you'll understand. You're always so kind." My heart clenched suddenly. So, my dream mating ceremony is just a small thing. Rita's sweet, high-pitched voice chimed in: "Brother, my mating ceremony dress matches yours so perfectly!" That was the moment I realized I was never the one being chosen. I looked down at my round pregnant belly, tears slipping quietly from the corners of my eyes. Then, with a trembling hand, I dialed the number that had always been waiting for me. "I'm ready to leave." After the call ended, the clerk cautiously asked: "Would you like to choose another one?" "No. Just cancel it, please." I took one last glance at the dress that would never belong to me. If this ceremony was never for me, then I won't stay for it.

When my husband accompanies his childhood sweetheart to the vet to treat her pet fish, my son accidentally spills his drink on her. My husband watches as his childhood sweetheart's eyes redden. Then, he slaps my son hard and throws a stack of cash at him. "This is your chance to make up for your mistakes. Buy Wendy a dress—make sure it's white!" My son dries his tears while holding onto the money. He roams the streets, searching for a white dress in the middle of the night. When he finally finds one, he ends up getting beaten to death by some drunk hooligans. Even in death, he clutches the bloodied skirt tightly. I burst into tears of despair as I hold onto his body and call my husband over a dozen times. However, he's too busy with his childhood sweetheart's fish. He blocks my number. When he finally calls me back, he sounds icy and angry. "Wendy is still waiting for that dress! Where has the little brat gone to? Can't he even handle such a simple task?"

I’d been with Hurley, the heir to the Crescent Claw pack, for seven years. He’d insisted on throwing me a huge birthday party. But on the day of the party, Hurley gave the million-dollar custom gown my mother had commissioned for me to his childhood friend, Rachel. He said it so casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Rachel’s dress got ruined, and we couldn’t find a replacement in time. You two are about the same size, so I just let her borrow it.” “I remember you have a few backup dresses, right? Why don’t you just wear one of those tonight?” I thought back on the past seven years, and how this wasn't the first time he'd put me second for Rachel. For one of my birthdays, he gave me a cheap necklace from a street stall but bought Rachel a ruby necklace at a high-end auction. His excuse? “You’re an Alpha’s daughter; you already have everything. Rachel’s different.” When I was sick with a fever and needed him, he was busy comforting Rachel because she was afraid of the dark. He’d told me, “Rachel’s fragile and timid. She needs me more.” It happened over and over again. This time, I was finally done. The borrowed dress and the unfaithful man—I wanted neither.

I had a perception disorder that messed with how I saw and felt stuff. So when I got dropped into a horror game, everyone else freaked out trying to survive— Me? I thought I was in a dating sim. I raised a young fae like she was my kid, fell for the vampire count, and treated the undead like my in-laws. The first time I saw the vampire—face torn up, soaked in blood—I straight-up blushed. "You're really handsome." He froze. Then, low and uncertain: "Am I... really handsome?"

When my boyfriend claimed he was the final boss of a horror game, I laughed it off. What kind of terrifying final boss spends every day at home doing laundry, cooking meals, handing over all his money, and constantly clinging to his wife for affection? Then, one day, I entered the horror game myself. The infamous final boss, the one every player feared, pinned me against the headboard, slowly testing the limits of my body. He leaned close to my ear and whispered, “So? Do you believe me now?”

In the final stages of a terminal illness, my family abandoned me and threw me into a horror game. [Another one here to die. I bet she won't last the first night.] [Just listen to that cough. I'm scared she'll die right inside my phone.] On the first night, the head nurse made her rounds, prepared to execute any player whose heartbeat was abnormal. My heartbeat remained steady only because my body was too weak to fluctuate—and I even helped her sew up the tear in her uniform. "Miss, your clothes are torn. You'll get cold. If I mend it for you, you won't be cold anymore." On the second night, the surgeon swung his scalpel, determined to cut away anything imperfect. I handed him a wrist guard I'd made myself, watching his trembling hands. "Doctor, your talent shouldn't be buried by pain." … On the final day, the ultimate Boss gave me a choice: leave with a healthy body, or stay and perish with these strange beings. Back in the real world, the parents who had abandoned me were suddenly in tears, begging me to come home and split the money. I smiled and said to the creatures inside the instance, "I choose to trade my life… for a home for all of you." The next second, a burst of golden light erupted from the system. [Congratulations, player. You have triggered the one and only hidden ending—Divine Redemption.]