ohdearestlucy

[ohdearestlucy]

Dress

Charles Fredrick Worth, 1893

The Chicago History Museum

[ohdearestlucy]

Hat

1890

The Metropolitan Museum of Art

[ohdearestlucy]

Negligée

1896

The Metropolitan Museum of Art

[ohdearestlucy]

[ohdearestlucy]

[ So we have like, champagne, domestic (apple?) wine, white grape wine, vodka and whatever our guests bring with themselves for the celebration. I am hoping to steal some and sneak to my room-- but, if I am to be drunk, I'll probably should switch to Loki, but we'll see.

Happy New Year, everyone! ]

[ohdearestlucy]

[ohdearestlucy]

and minaisilona

"Mina! So you are here, too--what a pleasure, indeed! I thought you had a very important examination tomorrow?"

[ohdearestlucy]

Fan

Tiffany & Co., 1890s

The Metropolitan Museum of Art

[ohdearestlucy]

and adxiudicium

"Excuse me, sir-- I have lost track my carriage, how is this street called?"

[ohdearestlucy]

Well i know most of my followers are from The USA and wherever, but i hope you have heard about terrorist attack in Volgograd, Russia. It’s my city, city i grew up and the city  I love. Yesterday a guy inspired by terrorists had killed himself with a bomb in one of the most beautiful places of Volgograd, in the railway station (500 metres from my house). About 20 people died. And today the horror went on, somebody had destroyed a bus with another bomb. 15 people down. The scariest thing is, nobody in the world cares except citizens of Volgograd who are scared. They are afraid of taking a bus to go home from work or to go by train. Please just think about us, find a minute to write something inspiring for us. Remember, 70 years ago nazis were stopped here in the banks of Volga, and the world was saved by our grandparents. Support Volgograd!!

[ohdearestlucy]

Evening Gown

Jean-Philippe Worth, 1898-1900

The Metropolitan Museum of Art

[ohdearestlucy]

[ohdearestlucy]

[ohdearestlucy]

The ball room was crowded; flashing lights, shining diamonds and smiles, smiles everywhere -- that's what Lucy liked, that's what Lucy belonged to. In that moment, every glance suddenly stopped at her. She smiled, as brightly as she could, bathing in the spotlight of everyone's close attention--and soon enough it occurred to her that something was wrong.

She looked around--suddenly no one was smiling; her eyes were searching around in desperate need to see someone familiar. It wasn't long until she realized that it was a vain search. All of the people in the room were strangers, and everyone had their index fingers pointing at her. She looked down in attempt to see if there was, perhaps, any flaw in her attire--there wasn't. Lucy then looked up again only to find out that--

Everyone's clothes disappeared, it simply rotted down and away from their bodies; Lucy stared at the ladies with their lips, bloody red, soaking with -- what was it, hunger? -- and the gentlemen with nothing but lust in their eyes, all with their hands outstretched towards her. Lucy felt her clothes disappearing bit by bit, leaving her breasts, her stomach, her legs exposed; she never took her eyes from the strangers.

She watched as their faces started distorting, their smiles now almost like feral grins; their skin slowly coming off their bones. Lucy felt terror creeping down her spine, leaving her paralyzed...

I do not want to be like them, I do not want, do not want, not want--

her thoughts echoed as she watched everyone around turning into skeletons, and that was the moment she attempted to scream, but the only thing coming from her lips was a rattle, then another one--but these attempts only left her gasping for air as she was nearly suffocating...

Suddenly, it was all gone. There were no people, no lights and no ball room; only quiet of the night, in the midst of which Lucy found herself standing in her silk nightdress only, still shaking, the memories of her dream still vivid. She reached out towards the bed--but the room was gone that instant.

She was standing... somewhere, the exact place clearly unknown to her and yet incomprehensible. And she was--

not alone.

She heard the question. Who was it? Who was asking? But before she could give that a further thought--

"Lucy Wes--" she stammered, her voice still hoarse.

"--I... But... Who are you?"

The shortest distance between two points is a line

There were often reports on the entertainment device known as the “television” that starred many a fame-seeking hopeful by telling strange tales of abduction and encounters with many variants of creatures.

None were ever true, until, suddenly, they were.

There were reports of a woman on the subway in central Manhattan that claimed that, for a full day, she had wanted into the 1920s while coming home with an armful of groceries, and, though she had never breathed a word about it to anyone but her journal and her own mind, the one who called himself by the name of a thread understood her story.

That had been his accidental doing, for in the business of better understanding his powers, certain portals and times were left open. He had amended the fault immediately, but the woman had managed to slip in and out without his detection up until he chose to close the figurative “door.”

The story was smeared in the labyrinth-like slope of the tunnel and upon shutting it, he felt the presence of that very same woman as well as her panic and terror.

Fil wondered if she believed she was now going to lose her mind; if anything, it would expand it, and since she was a partial “child of the walkways” as he called it, she might find herself in odd places all throughout her life.

He mentioned this because, as he slept, he felt his left leg twitch, a spasm jerking him into a conscious state.

Hypnogogia. It had to be.

Until, against the fibers of his mind, he felt the stirring of one of those doors.

Someone from a different time was attempting to come through, for they were in a partial state of waking——that, or they had come into close contact with a creature outside of the realm of time.

What sort of creature, he wondered as he raced towards the source in little more than a coat and his pajama bottoms, could elicit such a reaction?

“Who are you?” he spoke aloud, his hand clenching a newly-formed dagger, meaning to slash it against the veil that bound the person from entering this world.

If he was fortunate…they would never remember this meeting.

[ohdearestlucy]

[ohdearestlucy]

and trustme-now

..Who are you?

[ohdearestlucy]