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#Woman Formal Garment
chinesehanfu · 6 months
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[Hanfu · 漢服]Chinese Song Dynasty (960–1279 AD)Traditional Clothing Hanfu Reference to Song Dynasty Murals
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【Historical Reference Artifacts】:
Woman in the murals of the Song Dynasty tomb in Tangzhuang, Dengfeng, Henan,China.
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【Histoty Note】Song Dynasty (960–1279 AD)·Woman Formal Garment
The large-sleeved shirts and skirts of the Northern Song Dynasty were based on the long blouses and skirts of the late Tang and Five Dynasties, and became more refined and gradually became more ritualized. At the same time, the trend of women wearing crowns became more and more popular, and a variety of crown styles and matching hairstyles were developed.
The restoration of this outfit refers to the image of a woman in the murals of the Song Dynasty tomb in Tangzhuang, Dengfeng, Henan: her head is combed in a bun, with clouds shape hair around her temples, and a crown, which is fixed with flower hairpins on the front and back, and pearl hairpins on the left and right; Wearing a sleeved blouse, a long skirt, and a silk scarf was the attire of the common people and women attending formal occasions at that time.
At that time, married women often wore crowns, long-sleeved shirts and skirts, and shoulder-wrapped scarf when attending formal occasions or when common women got married. It gradually developed into a classic paradigm, which had an impact on popular fashion and the system of public service. The "golden crown and xiapi金冠霞帔" that often appeared in literary works of the Song and Yuan Dynasties was developed from this classic ceremonial attire.
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📸Recreation Work:@裝束复原
🔗Weibo :https://weibo.com/1656910125/NdlVDn8JP
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wanderingwolpertinger · 3 months
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Anthropologie is ya know super overpriced buuut also I got a black tie appropriate jumpsuit for $45 instead of like $230 soooo 👍
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valkyrielevitt · 8 months
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Hogwarts Fashion During Hogwarts Legacy
A cheat-sheet for making your writing/art historically accurate, and some inspiration for your MC - women's addition.
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Victorian fashion was complicated, both in terms of the construction and the rules that dictated when certain garments could be worn. Age played an important role in what a person was permitted to wear, so lets break it down that way:
Younger Students (Roughly years 1-4)
Generally speaking, girls dressed in similar styles to their mothers, but with altered hemline lengths. Up until roughly 13-14 years old (exact ages were decided by the girl's family) her hemline would fall around the knee. At 14 it would be lowered to the middle of the shins.
At this age girls would wear dresses, and so you could suggest that Hogwarts uniforms for girls at this age would not consist of the shirt and skirt combo that MC and various NPCs wear.
Most schools in the 1890s did not have set uniforms, but instead girls were expected to wear an apron to protect their clothes from ink and chalk dust.
At this age it was still considered socially acceptable for girls to wear their hair down, or in more simple hairstyles like braids. Popular hair accessories included ribbons and straw hats.
Time for some examples:
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This is an example of a day dress (casual clothes) from 1893. Smocking (the embroidery technique used at the collar, waist and cuffs) was popular in young girls clothes.
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Another example of children in day dress. The girl on the far left is probably about 13-14, the older girl on the right is closer to 15.
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An example of the aprons worn by younger students.
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Details of the dresses worn underneath (technically from 1897 but the styles are fairly similar)
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Details of the aprons worn
Older Students (Roughly years 5-7)
Around the time that the MC joins at Hogwarts, she would, depending on her personal preferences, have kept her skirt at her mid shin or dropped the hem to her ankles. Around the age of 17, girls would be expected to fully let down their hems to the floor, signifying their shift to adulthood.
At this point dresses would become less popular during the day, and were replaced by blouses (complete with very large sleeves) and a skirt. Men's tailoring and sports clothes shaped women's fashion at the time, and greatly influenced what girls wore at this age.
Girls would also typically stop wearing their hair down during the day, resorting to simple up-dos instead.
The time at which each girl made these changes depended on her and her family. While some girls had no choice but to listen to their parents, often they were able to bargain for an extra few months if they so wished.
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An example of two girls around the age of 15 in very typical day outfits.
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A selection of school girls - those sitting are no older than 14, those standing are no older than 16.
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At the age of 15-16 girls would begin to attend more family functions and required new styles of clothes. These paintings show the same tea gown. These were made to be worn at home, never in public, when the family was hosted guests or a less formal dinner. They could be worn at all times of the day.
Day clothes for students who dressed as adults (17+):
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A British Upper VI class (age 17-18) and some teachers in 1894. All girls now wear dresses with their hems on the ground, and hair tied up.
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Middle class girls fashion in the 1890s
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A Woman's sweater from 1895
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Walking outfit from 1894 - essentially a more substantial outfit for spending time outdoors.
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A more expensive version of a day outfit.
Tea gowns:
Generally identified by their loose fit, high neckline, and a train that falls from the shoulders. Additionally they may also be made with a large coat over the top. The shape was inspired by medieval fashion and so they're a good source of inspiration for the wizarding world imo.
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Evening gowns:
Worn for the most formal evening events, and generally expose more skin than day clothes. Staple accessories included fans, opera gloves, and (if you're that way inclined) tiaras were coming into popularity at this time.
Rule of thumb for all fashion at this time, the sleeves get largest in the middle of the decade, and shrink back down again towards the end.
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1894
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1893
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1898
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1893-1895
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1894
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1898
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marzipanandminutiae · 4 months
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my dream guidance for 19th-early 20th century women's garment labeling in museums
instead of "mourning dress", "[insert time/formality modifier] dress, suitable for [early-stage/late-stage] mourning"
instead of "morning/afternoon/walking/traveling/archery/tennis/whatever other random descriptor can be attached to a generic Long Sleeves High Neckline Practical Fabrics Reasonable Skirt Length dress," "day dress"
instead of "dinner dress/visiting dress/promenade dress," "semiformal dress"
instead of "ball gown/opera gown," "formal gown"
instead of "wedding gown," "gown worn by [name of bride] for her wedding" UNLESS it matches the modern definition of a wedding gown, ie "gown made and worn exclusively for this woman's wedding and instantly recognizable to all who see it as such." because when you say "wedding gown," that is what people now assume you mean
if the provenance is not known and it doesn't match the modern definition...why are we calling it a wedding gown? you have no evidence for that. stop it.
I don't care if we pick "robe" or "dressing-gown" or "wrapper" or "house dress" for Thing Worn When Hanging Out Around The House Sans Company, but for the love of god, can we all just pick one
ACTUAL specialized garments can keep their labels the same- nightgowns, sporting attire specifically made for that sport eg. cycling bloomers, etc. -and obviously styles of dresses with their own titles, eg. Edwardian lingerie dresses, can retain those
But guys. We've got to have more clarity on this than extant fashion magazines where a gown might be labeled one thing in the picture and something else in the text description
I KNOW they used all those terms back then, but they weren't trying to EDUCATE A PUBLIC WHO HAS NO CONTEXT FOR ANY OF IT
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fanaticsnail · 7 months
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Dancando Lambada
Hello everyone! This is my first time writing for Shanks, at the request of @commanderfreethatdust.
I set up a playlist and listened to so much bachata music it was insane. I hope you enjoy reading this one!
My Masterlist is here, just in case you want to see any of my other work!
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Crawling to the shore, the weight of your completely soaked formal garment collecting sand around the hemline. You coughed slightly before springing to your feet and shaking the water from your body with large, exaggerated actions. You searched the beach for your companions, finally making eye contact with the man who scurried to shore beside you.
“Where is she?” you questioned him, helping him to his feet. He spluttered out a rough cough to rid his lungs of seawater as you clasped his arm in aid.
“I-,” he began, panting slightly, “I lost her.”
“You lost her?” you said, flittering your eyes to the other members of the vessel, “you lost your sister?”
“I did,” he confirmed, standing alert as he turned to search the beach. You saw a small bundle of heaped material above the flailing arms of the aforementioned woman as she struggled to keep afloat under the weight of her oversized garment. Without hesitation, you assertively made your way back into the water to aid her in her struggles.
You swam to meet with her as she clasped your arms and held on for dear life.
“I got you, love. I got you,” you reassured her, holding her to you as you slowly rode the tide into the beach. She began to sob as she attempted to make her way to the shore.
“It’s ruined, all of it,” she wailed slightly.
“Honey,” you said, drawing her attention to you as you felt the sand finally beneath your feet, “it was just the ceremony. The reception will still be beautiful.”
She sniffed as she began to collect the layers of her large white skirts as she made it to shore. She met the eyes of her brother before she sprinted to the best of her abilities before him.
“Really, Albert?!” she shrieked at him in rage, “you had to test out the barrel of a cannon before I could recite my vows?!”
“I didn’t know it was loaded!” he yelled back in fear, running to flee from the wrath of his sister.
“You ruined everything!” she again reiterated, picking up a small rock and throwing it at him. You groaned and brought your hand to rest on your brow before noticing a large ship sailing to make port in the docks ahead.
“Lilian, look ahead,” you attempted to gain the agitated bride’s attention to bring it to the ship.
“The captain can’t perform the ceremony on dry land, Albert. He doesn’t have that authority,” she continued to berate her brother.
“Lilian,” you said a little louder this time.
“And you sunk his ship, you stupid git,” she continued yelling.
“Lilian!” you bellowed over, finally bringing her attention to you.
“What?” she boomed, fixating her rage onto you now.
“There’s a ship approaching,” you began as you brought your hands into a soothing motion, palms facing the ground as one would make small themselves in front of a charging beast.
“What does that have to do with anything?” she said, finally exchanging her anger for a whimpering sadness.
“The ship is likely to have a captain,” you said, approaching the bride, “and you need one of those to marry you and Remy.”
At his mention, the bride turned to look at her betrothed who had softening features adorned as he looked to her with pure adoration.
“Now,” you began, bringing her eyes to you once more, “go and get yourself and your beau cleaned up. Leave the captain to me and meet me on the dock.”
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The sails swelled in the breeze at it carried the fine ship into a fresh port. Shanks and his troop of carefree crew began to cheer merrily at the thought of receiving fresh supplies from a new town.
“Looks to be trouble ahead, Captain,” Beckman informed the captain as he walked past him to begin hoisting the sail.
“Trouble?” Shanks said, retrieving his brass spyglass from within his large, dark cape. He lifted the object to make out the form of a sinking ship as the people aboard fled to the shore. He quirked his head slightly, furrowing his brows at the sight that lay before him.
“Marines?” Beckman called over his shoulder as he continued to make light work of the rigging, “Sailors?”
“A leisure vessel, I think,” Shanks said, placing his spy glass back from within his cloak and turning to his first mate, “and I think it was performing a wedding.”
“A wedding?” Beckman questioned, turning to face Shanks after completing an expertly tied knot, “how do you mean?”
“Look,” Shanks said, leaping down from the place next to the navigator, “you see?”
Beckman squinted his eyes to make out the form of a woman in a white dress as she stomped up the sand dunes with several other women in tow.
“Making port now, Captain,” called Yassop from the deck as he threw a lasso to the pillar of the ramp, successfully attaching the ship to the dock.
Once settled against the solid foundations of the dock and extending the ramp; Shanks witnessed a woman dressed in incredibly damp clothes aid the ship’s docking ramp to extend fully to the floor before placing a bare foot against the wood.
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“Which one amongst you be the Captain of this vessel?” you asked them, prompting the entirety of the crew to bring their complete attention to you.
Your hair was soaked, lying flat against your head, as the weight of your once fine gown hung from your body; hugging every single piece of your skin firmly. You paid the material no mind, although it became slightly transparent from the seawater you unwillingly swam in moments ago.
“That would be me, my lady,” a red-headed man said, stepping forward.
You looked over him. His face almost had a playful gleam adorning it. He had a light scruff on his chin, a three-clawed scar atop his left eye and a dark cloak wrapped asymmetrically from his torso as it completely covered his left arm.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Captain,” you smirked slightly, bowing ever so slightly to him, “please excuse my forwardness, I’m on a tight schedule and there is food about to spoil.”
“Food?” a large man wearing goggles called in glee, prompting you to bring your attention to him, “what food?”
“Salted pork, roasted vegetables, wheels of cheese by the dozen,” you relayed to him while waving your right hand dismissively before snapping your head back to the captain, “but again, I am on a tight schedule.”
“Oh?” the Captain said in a slight teasing tone, “and may I be privy to what would bring such haste upon a fine lady as yourself this day?”
You sighed in slight annoyance before shaking off any apprehension.
“My oldest friend is - was - getting married, you see,” you said to the captain before gesturing further out to the shore, “she has just descended the dunes to fix her attire.”
The captain of the vessel laughed wholeheartedly at your explanation, prompting his crew to also chuckle at the situation.
“And what would you have me do?” he laughed, “I’m no tailor. I have no idea how to fix a salt-soaked wedding dress.”
You snickered at his comment, tucking a damp strand of hair behind your ear and looking to your feet slightly before returning your gaze to the amused Captain before you.
“Well, sir,” you began, biting your lip slightly before fully allowing yourself to explain further, “we are in need of a ship and its Captain.”
His brows twitched slightly in confusion as he slightly shook his head.
“For what reason?” he asked you, placing his right arm on the railing as he began to descend onto the dock below.
“Well, we lost our ship, as you can plainly see,” you gestured to the completely sunken ship off the shore of the coast, “and our church had been ransacked by pirates a few months prior; forcing our priest to flee to his home monastery for funds to create a new one.”
The captain descended to fall before your being. You immediately felt small as his taller persona towered over your form, his cape falling to cascade over his left leg slightly.
“And you want to use my ship to what,” he paused before looking back to his crew, “throw a party?”
He and his crew laughed at the notion, prompting you to join them slightly.
“No, sir,” you directed him, “as I said. We have no trained leader or lawman among us presently. We have a captain, but his ship is now claimed by the sea.”
The red-head turned his gaze back towards your own, his laughter dying but his smile remained.
“I understand,” he said to you with a small smirk, “you need someone with jurisdiction of the waters to officiate the ceremony.”
“Yes,” you felt the words breathily leave your lips, “we need you, Captain.”
His smirk upturned further into a warm smile as he fully grasped your words of desire.
“And my ship, I presume?” he questioned, fully stepping onto the wooden dock to join with you in level ground.
“Aye, sir,” you said with a small nod, prompting him to breathe a laugh through his nose at your confirmation.
“And what shall we have as payment, my lady,” he teased slightly, his eyes playfully squinting full of absolute delight at your humility.
You stepped forward, unafraid of his taunt and proceeded to bring your body within an intimate proximity. You angled your chin up to be within inches of his scuffed jaw, as you looked up at him through your eyelashes.
This caught the captain slightly off guard, not fully processing the motion you had set in place.
You could taste the salt on his skin as you brought your lips inch by inch closer to his own before quirking your head to the side.
“Rum, dinner, and a good time,” you whispered your breath against his lips in a sultry tone, smiling as you felt him lean in slightly at your administrations. You held his unadulterated attention as you kept your proximity for a few moments before the Captain pulled away and looked to his crew.
“You hear that, lads?” the captain asked, “we’re in for a free feed!”
They all cheered in unison as they celebrated the knowledge of an abundance of food to be presented before them. He smiled and turned his face back toward your own and held an intensity in his gaze.
“By all means,” he smiled at you, “bring the love-birds aboard and I will marry them to one another.”
You smiled and breathed a sigh of relief at his generosity.
“Thank you, sir,” you bowed in a small curtsey, presenting your skirts outwardly to the best of your ability. The dampness of your gown made this particular gesture slightly more difficult than originally anticipated, but you extended your formality never the less.
“I feel like I should be thanking you, my lady,” he smiled, “and offering my sincerest apologies for the amount of good food and rum my crew is going to claim from you.”
You giggled at his remark.
“If I may be excused, Captain,” you asked with a slight uneasiness in your face, “I need to change out of my clothes. It’s awfully cold out here and I feel incredibly exposed before your wonderful crew.”
At that, the Captain drew his eyes over your form. He started at your partially dried but still incredibly damp hair before flittering down to your collar bone and holding his gaze there; using his peripherals to search pupilless over your form to take in how exposed your body was in the sea air before finding your gaze once more. You played a knowing smirk upon your features, noticing him searching over your figure with a small hint of desire.
“You’re excused, Miss,” he said, gesturing before the dock.
You felt his eyes fixate against your retreating form, relishing slightly at the attention of the attractive individual as you allowed a hidden smile to toy at your lips.
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The second ceremony went ahead without a hitch. No cannon fire to sink your vessel at the hands of your close friend’s idiot brother.
The attractive Captain officiated the union between the two lovers and his crew cheered whole-heartedly as he expressed the union to be consummated within a covenant-sealing kiss.
You allowed a ululation to escape from between your lips, holding your right hand up to the side of your mouth to emphasise your joy as the young couple brought their lips together to seal the promise they made with one another. You smiled in glee as Remy dipped Lilian down to deepen their kiss, relishing at the love they found with one another.
At last, the festivities began. You offered your arm to the red-headed Captain to escort him from the deck of his boat to the shore off the horizon as the sun began to set its rays behind you.
You smiled as you witnessed the Captain and his crew gazed almost lovingly at the banquet laid before them, jaws going slack as they spied the sheer amount of food that was available to them.
Several large, canvas marquees were erected along the coastal shore; wooden, felt tipped torches aligning the pathway to their entrances.
Food stretched the left-most wall of the tent as it sat atop extended rectangular tables. The variety ranged from cold, cured meats and several varieties of cheeses to a suckling pig on a spit adjacent to a fattened lamb as they rotated over a freshly dug fire pit. Several variety of flattened breads, rounded loaves and lentils lay in woven baskets; the exotic scents lingering in the air. The indulgent sweets: chocolates, caramels, sweet honeys and moulded crisp sugar pillars adorned the table extended to the end of the room.
“Your payment as promised, Captain,” you gestured to the room before you, “take what you desire and please-,” you added, bringing your gaze slightly at his parted lips.
He turned his eyes to pull from the food to rest on your almost suggestive gaze.
“Please?” he whispered in question, looking through his half-hooded eyes at you. You smiled at him before looking again upwards to bring your eyes to his own.
“Stay for the party,” you demanded, rather than posed as a question to the cloaked captain in front of you.
“As you command, my lady,” he said with his eyes revealing his heavily utilised smile lines as he brought an absolutely honest smile to his lips.
You turned on your way after releasing him from his arm linked within your own, bouncing slightly as you ran to join in the lively dancing that was taking place against the warm coastal sand.
Approaching Albert as he rested wallowing atop the trunk of a fallen tree, you extended your hand out to him which he wordlessly took as his boyish grin returned to its spot atop his lips. You beamed at him as you began to pull him within the ring of dancers.
You arched your legs, placing one of Alberts own between them as you both swayed to the music. You cascaded your hands to the air as he embraced your lower and upper back and swayed your hips to the fast-paced, rhythmic music. Following his lead, you span your body to the music, allowing your now smaller skirt to swirl upwards to almost reveal your undergarments. He reached both of his hands to clasp your own and twirled you within them in a cross-hatched movement; embracing you as he held your hips against his own with his interlocking arms.
You both gleefully laughed as you danced together, as you both would often choose one another as dance partners in events such as these due to your prior mutual history.  He dipped you backwards and rotated you over his leg before snapping you back up. You pressed your forehead against his own and shimmied your shoulders while continuing to fan your skirt out in the sway of your hips.
As the song came to an end, you cheered again to the minstrels for their musical illumination. You laughed at Remy the groom, as he began to feel the effects of slight over consumption of alcohol and fell his back against the sand in exhaustion; prompting Lilian to do the same with her own gleeful laughter.
You squeezed the hand of Albert in thanks for the dance before wordlessly approaching the awaiting Captain as his gaze continued to focus on your approaching form.
“Captain,” you nodded to him in acknowledgement. He smirked at you, nodding his head to recognize your approach.
You began to make your way past him before halting your step and taking a small step backwards to fall before him once more.
“Were you,” you paused momentarily before continuing your sentence, raising your brows in question, “watching me?”
“I was watching you, yes,” he confirmed, nodding with a smile as he held his gaze to the ground to avoid your investigative eyes. You stepped again towards him, bringing your proximity closer to his own. He trailed his eyes to your bare feet and exposed legs before looking to your short, pleated skirt upon your hips.
“Why were you watching me?” you asked with a hint of coy, battering your eyelashes at him. He chuckled at your question, acknowledging he was absolutely caught-out in his desire for you.
“I-,” he began, his words being caught within his throat and halting his words.
You extended your hand to fall below his chin and bring his gaze up to your face.
“You-?” you trailed off to lead him in to further explain himself. He sighed with a warm smile in response, leaning ever to slightly into your hand. As he held no further explanation, you allowed a hint of assertive boldness to come over you.
“Would you care to join me for a dance?” you asked him, eyes flittering between his two orbs as you held a knowing smile on your lips. He chuckled slightly at your invitation before immediately recoiling from your touch.
“I don’t have all the right parts for a dance like that, I’m afraid,” he laughed, bringing his sights from you as he looked at the newly married couple as they circled each other in dance once rising again from the dunes; arms embracing one another as they spun rapidly together. They wove their arms in and out as their hips swayed with gyrating movements as they arched their backs and extended their legs.
“Oh?” you asked him, eyes unashamedly raking over his whole body before settling back on his face, “and what parts might that be?”
At that comment, he bellowed out a large and unrestrained laugh at your question.
“I’m intact if that’s what you’re asking,” he said, removing his dark cape from its placement on his right shoulder blade, “it’s just an arm.”
Your eyes widened at the sudden revelation of his absent limb, your sights holding to that place for a moment before meeting your eyes to his once more.
“So all the important ones are still there, then,” you shrugged with a slight jesting tone, prompting him to laugh further at your comment. Silence fell between you both again as you absentmindedly linked your left arm within his right and rest your head on his shoulder while you witnessed the couple continue to dance together.
“You’re self-conscious about it, then?” you asked, leaning your head back to have your eyes meet with his face as he continued to focus on the couple. He had a small, almost sorrowful expression fall to his face for an incredibly almost invisible moment before he smiled again.
“Not in the slightest,” he said, bringing his gaze to rest on the sand below his sandals. You hummed at his comment. You then pulled yourself away from its place huddled against his side and stood firmly in front of him.
“So it’s me then?” you asked with a quirk of your brow. He snapped his gaze up to you at that comment and open and closed his mouth as if to speak.
“I’ll find you someone to dance with,” you nodded before turning to look to the crowd before you as you began listing them.
“There’s Ariana; she’s incredible. Best bachata dancer in the east blue, I swear to you,” you said before turning to another woman among them, “or there’s Yasmita. She would seriously, and I might add shamelessly,” you said, while bringing your hand up to shield your mouth from the crowd before bringing it down again, “mould her body against yours and listen to your every direction.”
You laughed at your own comment before turning to gesture to another member of the crowd; “or there’s Zoe-,”
“-No,” you heard the Captain utter with an authoritative tone, bringing his right hand to your cheek and pulling your gaze to meet with his as they searched your eyes. His prior playfulness all but disappeared from his face as he held your cheek, caressing it as he stared at you with longing. Your eyes flittered between his two, searching for any unspoken reason he would not want to dance.
“Then,” you paused slightly as you inhaled a slightly shaken breath, “you just don’t like dancing?”
He smiled at you slightly, his eyes again returning its former playful glint to them.
“Oh, I like dancing,” he assured you with a nod, bringing your face closer towards his. You smiled at him, knitting your brows together in incessant confusion.
“I just can’t dance like that,” he chuckled, nodding his head to the couples as they swayed their hips together as they held their bodies pressed together in almost intimate juxtaposition.
“Oh,” you breathed out, quirking your head to the side as you comprehended what the red-headed captain confessed to you. You paused for a moment, the Captain releasing your cheek from his hold.
“Come with me,” you said, bringing your left hand to join with his and interlaced your fingers together as you made to lead him down to the shore; away from any undesired attention.
“And where are you taking me?” he laughed at you, following in step behind you.
“To somewhere secluded so you don’t make a complete ass of yourself,” you called over your shoulder, “I’m going to teach you to dance.”
Once arriving at a partially lit area still in ear shot of the drumbeat and up-tempo melody, you brought your hips flush with the red-head Captain. You noticed an immediate blush rise itself to his cheeks as he laughed at himself at the rise of his embarrassment.
“Oh, get a hold of yourself,” you playfully reprimanded, “now, put your hand here.”
“This is the stance,” you whispered to him, closing your eyes. He gasped out a small laugh as his own eyes closed.
You took his hand and hooked it below your left arm, using your right hand to direct the placement of his two middle fingers against your spine. You pressed your forehead against his as the two of you bent your legs.
You laced your legs over his right leg and wrapped your right arm around the nape of his neck and intertwined your left fingers into his crimson locks. You felt him take in a sharp inhale of breath through his nose as he felt the entirety of your body pressed flush against his own. You rose a wide smirk to your face at this action, prompting you to massage your left hand fingers against his skull.
“Wonderful,” he commented with praise before adding, “now what do we do?”
You giggled at his question before you began to sway your hips to the music in a very basic movement.
“Now, Captain,” you gasped out, continuing to embrace him closely, “you feel the music.”
He hummed in response as you felt the movement of his hips to the rhythm. He began very rigidly, almost awkward in his movements before relaxing into it as he fully embraced the music.
You held each other closely and began walking together, moving your hips in different directions as he pressed his hand against your spine. You rolled your torso against him before shimmying your shoulders slightly and continuing to rotate your hips against his right leg as he did with your own. He began to pant slightly at the rapidity of your movements and also the arising sensation building within him.
“And, how do I-,” he began, pausing his sway and holding you to him. You opened your eyes as your face flushed with how intensely he was staring at you.
“-How do I twirl you?” he whispered into your lips as he arched his chin up slightly. You gasped out a small laugh.
“Do you sword fight, Captain?” you asked him.
“Alright, Shanks,” you laughed before reiterating your point, “do you swordfight?”
“Shanks,” he said in a breathy sigh, “call me Shanks.”
“I have been known to engage in swordplay, yes,” he confirmed with a light laugh.
“Alright then, Shanks,” you said, “think of me as a sword; an extension of your body, if it please you.”
He hummed at the notion, as he continued to hold you closely.
“It does please me to think of you extended on my body,” he said before he could halt the words, immediately freezing at his unwilling confession.
You released a melodical laugh before unlacing your fingers from his hair and giving him a light tap on the chest in chastisement. He joined you in laughter before again bringing you back into him.
“As you were to flourish your arm to disarm an opponent,” you said again, bringing your arms to wrap around his neck, “tap me using your fingers to tell me which way you want me. Seriously now, give it a go.”
He inhaled slightly as he attempted to maneuver you in a spin, only to get caught slightly between his knees and topple you over; following your body in the process as you both fell to the ground with a thump. As soon as you fell over, a loud laugh escaped your lips as you gleefully fell into the body of the captain beside you. He laughed as loudly as you did before using his right elbow to lean himself upward to hover his face over your own.
He searched your face for any sort of apprehension as to his proximity, to which your eyes brimmed with no such trepidation. He carefully brought his right hand to your hair as he remained reclined on his singular elbow and wove his fingers into your locks as a sigh escaped his lips.
“Thank you,” he expressed in gratitude.
“What for, Shanks?” you asked him in response.
“For everything,” he uttered to you, “for welcoming my crew ashore with promises of a good time. For rum, for food. For everything.”
You giggled in response, rising on your elbows to bring yourself closer to his adoring face.
“And have you had a good time?” you asked him with an air of sultry flirtation.
“I will have if you let me kiss you,” he said, desire expressed in his low tone as his eyes flittered between the two of your own. Your eyes trailed down to fall on his lightly stubbled chin as you reached your hand up and stroked his rough cheek.
Music resonated in the distance, echoes of the gleeful laughter of his crew and the lively movements of twizzled lambada soared through the air as you closed the distance between you.
You gasped into his mouth as you felt the hunger from his kiss. The desire he had for you earlier in the afternoon toppling over as you engaged in dance together; finally reaching the crescendo of the pinnacle of flirtation within each other’s arms.
You pulled him into you, feeling the whole weight of the red-headed captain as he had no arm to catch himself on. You paid the feeling no mind as you circled your arms over his shoulders and held him against you, hungrily pressing your lips firmly against his. He moaned against your lips as he attempted to maneuver himself to not completely suffocate you beneath him. You hooked your legs over his own and thrust your hips into his, rotating him beneath you, with you straddled over his hips. He groaned at this and placed his hand against your left thigh as he rose his torso up to continue to seek out your lips with his own.
His lips were chapped slightly, tasting of rum and salt from the open sea. He seemingly expertly hoisted himself into a seating position, trailing his hand firmly upwards to the small of your back as he continued to lay rampant kisses into you. You brought your hands to his chest and pushed him back slightly, breaking the kiss but maintaining your former closeness.
“We should return to your crew, Captain,” you breathily mentioned, “they must be wondering where I have taken you by now.”
“I wouldn’t worry, love,” he said bringing his right hand to hook some stray hair behind your ear, “they would have absolutely no intention of coming to seek me out right now.”
“And why might that be?” you asked him in a teasing tone. He laughed lightly before gesturing to you.
“Have you seen what you look like?” he exclaimed while raking his eyes over your body and pausing as he fixated on your chest, “especially at how transparent your dress was earlier,” he growled with a hungry smile.
You again slapped his chest before unlacing your legs from between his own and rising to your feet.
“Come on, Captain,” you said, extending your hand out towards him, “I want to see the bride and groom off.”
He accepted your hand as you leant backwards to hoist him to his feet.
“And then well see where the night takes us,” you suggested, bringing his arm to wrap around your shoulders, in turn lacing yours around his red sash-covered waist.
He pressed his lips to your hairline before whispering against it, a groan exiting his lips absolutely dripping with unrestrained desire: “Promises, promises.”
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adderstones · 10 months
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Last two of Henry VIII's wives, two more K/Catherines! I'm all finished with this project!
Katherine Howard was Henry's fifth and youngest wife, and second to die by execcution at her husband's hand. She was cousin to Anne Boleyn, and like her, rose to the king's favor as a lady in waiting to Anne of Cleves. Her age at the time of their marriage being speculated to be between 15 to 21-- her husband was 49. The crimes levied against her at her arrest were primarily to do with two alleged affairs that the king was not aware of at the time of the union. History has not been kind to this young woman. Thankfully there has been recent retreadings of her story, and more scruitiny has been called upon to the older men who claimed to have loved her. She reportedly loved to dance, which is why I painted her mid-step. I also wanted to show off some Tudor era garments, so the lift of her dress is greatly exagerrated.
Katherine Parr was Henry's final wife. At the time of their marriage she had already been widowed twice, and was in service to Mary as a lady in waiting. Katherine was a staunch Protestant, perhaps even more so than Anne Boleyn, as she fervently supported the Reformation, and even spoke to Henry about finishing this work (at this point Henry himself lived as a quasi-Catholic, and was comfortable in the state of limbo he left his realm in by not defining Anglicanism further), which famously almost cost her her head. Katherine is actually quite notable for being the first named female author published in England, and she has three works credited to her. After Henry passed, Katherine made a swift marriage to her one-time lover, Thomas Seymour, which caused a great deal of scandal and pain to her step-children. She died after giving birth to a daughter only about a year after Henry. The dress she is wearing is based on a Tudor portrait by an unknown artist. It seems to be depicting the queen in a more relaxed attire than formal court attire, but, I have to say, I wish I had chosen a different outfit. Since making this design there has been a brilliant discovery of another portrait of Katherine, and if I ever will return to Katherine, I'd like to base her on that one. The portrait I referenced in this picture is dated to the late sixteenth century, but Katherine died in 1548, so I can't help but wonder if the dress is innaccurate. Curiously, there is also speculation that she had originally been painted wearing a French Hood for the piece, which was painted over later-- but it's only a theory.
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Goodbye, Tommy Shelby.
A/n: Hey guys, this is my first fic after finishing my previous series, if you haven’t read it then please do and leave a like or any opinions. It’s all appreciated!. Also, I recommend listening to ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine whilst reading since i listen to it whilst writing this x.
I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED ONTO A DIFFERENT SITE OR TO BE TRANSLATED.
Summary: Amelia has been in love with Tommy since she was 17.Today’s tommy's wedding day and Amelia can’t cope.
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Word count: 1,575
Ada always told Amelia that there were “plenty of other fish in the sea” and she could do better than her brother, Tommy Shelby but Amelia had her doubts. The idea that there is someone else out there for her was ridiculous. If there were then why had she wasted twelve years of her life loving Tommy Shelby.
It’s to late now, Tommy was getting married and Amelia still felt like the seventeen year old in her room giggling about how Tommy smiled at her. The lead up to the wedding was the worst, every time someone spoke about how beautiful the wedding will be or how Tommy and Grace look more in love as the days pass would cause her heart to feel like, at any minute, it would crawl up her throat and jump onto the floor to be crushed by the passing carriages in the streets or even by the drunken’s getting thrown out of the garrison after closing time.
She knew she was being stupid, she was 29 and still pining over a man who clearly didn’t feel the same emotions she felt for him. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop loving him. The day before the wedding, Amelia decided she couldn't stay in Birmingham any longer. she would leave after the wedding, maybe go to London or even go to new York, she didn't care where, just a place that Tommy Shelby isn't.
Tommy's wedding day.
Amelia hadn't slept the night before, every-time she would try to sleep and close her eyes, all she could see if Tommy's' face, which in turn caused her to silently sob knowing she had lost the man she loved so dearly. She decided to write a letter to Tommy, to give him after the wedding. Confessing her love.
Four hours.
Four hours until Tommy gets married. Amelia was sat at her small kitchen table, holding her freshly brewed tea whilst Ada walks around talking about something that Amelia wasn't listening too. Amelia stared into the dark gloomy depths of her drink, slowly sinking into her sadness as the minutes pass. Ada had placed a plate full of bacon, eggs and sausage, stating that it would be a long day but Amelia couldn't get herself to eat anything, if she does she knew she would bring it back up anyway.
Ada stops her frantic movements when she realises that Amelia hadn't eaten or moved since she sat down “ it will be alright Mia” she whispers reassuringly. Using her nickname given to her by the Shelby family.
Amelia looks towards Ada, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly “ yeah, hopefully” the brokenhearted woman murmured.
Two hours.
Two hours until Amelia leaves, everyone had arrived at Tommy's' house threes hours before the wedding, needing to help set up the rest of the decorations before the wedding had to start. Amelia had been at the house for nearly an hour and she hadn't said a word. Every-time Tommy goes to talk to her, she quickly leaves, pretending that she was going for a smoke break or going to find the toilet. She knew that if she spoke a word to Tommy, she would break down right there, in front of him and in front of the guests that were arriving.
Amelia was stood by the fountain outside of tommys house, holding a cigarette between her lips as she watched the water flowing into the small concrete pond that surrounds it. Amelia was wearing one of her nicest dresses, she had it kept in the back of her wardrobe for special occasions. The gorgeous deep blue garment was embroidered with sliver sequins, though the dress was formal, there was a merriment in its nature and beautiful folds, making it easy for one to run but also to waltz. Amelia knew it was the perfect dress to wear for when she runs off before anyone sees. She didn't want the dress to stop her.
Amelia was in a trance like state, staring at the water. She failed to notice Polly walking over to her. She knew Polly wasn't stupid, Amelia knew Polly knows about her feelings for Tommy. Amelia jumps slightly when she feels a hand on her shoulder.
“ you'll catch a fever if you stay out here” the older woman warns.
“ i prefer to be here then in there” Amelia admits, taking a puff of her cigarette then slowly blows out the smoke “ its very overwhelming with everyone rushing around” she quickly covers herself.
Polly lights her own cigarette and raises an eyebrow at Amelia “ if it was my choice, i would want Tommy to marry you instead of grace” she confessed.
Amelia sighs, her eyes glossing as the tears in her soul become tears in her eyes “ it wasn't meant to be pol” she whispers, her voice quivering. She takes a deep breath as she glances at Polly, the waterline of her eyes threatening to spill out, she knew she had to tell Polly she was leaving, since Polly had treated her like a daughter since the day Ada brought her over for tea for the first time.
“ whats on your mind?” the older woman quizzed, holding her cigarette between her fingers, her dark eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Amelia chuckles and shakes her head, around Polly you can't keep a secret because she'll know automatically “ i'm leaving pol, after the wedding”
it's time
Its time for Amelia to watch as her life collapses, its time she had to sit in the crowd and pretend her heart wasn't shattering into a million pieces as if her heart was made of glass. She was sat in the second to front row with Polly, Ada, Ada's son and Michael.
The wedding had started half an hour ago and for that thirty minutes her tears came freely, like an overflowed storm drain. Luckily, the people around here wouldn't think differently then her being happy for the couple. However, Polly and Ada knew differently.
As the priest announces the newly wed husband and wife, the Shelby brothers and graces family surround the couple. Amelia knew this was the time she had to leave, she looks around to make sure no one was watching, once she knew it was safe she turns around and walks towards the double doors leading to the corridor. She turns her head and glumly smiles, seeing the smile on Tommy's face. She was happy for him, he deserved to be happy.
As Amelia walks outside, the air hits her face, the tip of her nose immediately turning red. Amelia wraps her arms around herself as she begins to rush towards the carriage that was awaiting her with her bags. Her fingers ached in the bitter winter wind, as she clenched and unclenched them trying to keeping an feelings in the tips. As she climbs into the carriage, she looks out through the window noticing Ada and Polly outside watching her, she waves slowly as the carriage leaves.
Once the carriage disappeared, Polly stomps out her cigarette then turns around, walking back into the house, on a mission to find Tommy. Once, Polly found him, she wraps her hand around his wrist “ Thomas come with me” she whispers, taking him to his office.
Tommy's office.
Polly closes the door as Tommy walks over to his desk whilst putting a cigarette between his lips “ what is it pol, ey?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
Polly walks over to his desk, picking up the envelope from the oak desk “ Amelia has left, this is for you” Polly explains, walking back over to the door “ you are stupid Thomas, if you didn't see it” Polly utters, leaving Tommy's office quietly, leaving Tommy alone.
Tommy sits down at his desk, immediately opening the letter, leaning back in his seat as he begins to read the handwritten letter.
Dear Tommy,
As i sit here, the night before you get married to someone who is not me, My heart is breaking because i love you Tommy. I love you with every fibre, every cell, every pore of my whole body. I love you, every good part and every bad part of you. It's been such an amazing journey since we first met, but our journey has come to an end. I hope you and grace get the life you are hoping for. How can i put into words something I've never experienced before until recently. i'm dead Tommy, yet very much still alive. You have allowed me to see the power of love, from point A to point Z. I want you to be happy Tommy, have someone experiencing that smile you keep locked away. I don't regret anything that I've felt for you. However, There is one thing i wish you could have seen, it's the things i did for love. For you. Letting you go is forever the hardest thing i'll do in my life but i want you to know you are the most amazing person, the only person i'll truly love with my whole heart.
I know you don't love me, i'm sorry i fell in love with you. i'm sorry i had to leave on the happiest day of your life. You deserve more. i'll hold these last twelve years so damn tight in my heart. I just hope you will too.
Goodbye, Thomas Shelby.
A/N: Well that was an emotional journey wasn't it? i hope you enjoyed this fic. Leave a like, comment , re-blog. Its all appreciated so much xx
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willalove75 · 11 months
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Alcina's New Maid Pt. 3. Lady Dimitrescu x Reader
Summary: Lady Dimitrescu brings you in as one of her maids, at least, that's what you thought she brought you to the castle for.
Warnings: 18+ minors DNI
Tags: flirty, fluff, slow burn, smut.
Notes: Part 3!
Click here for the rest of the series
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You make your way into the kitchen and find the head maid, Zina, an older woman who's been working for the Lady for most of her life, helping one of the chefs with this mornings breakfast. Tall, slender with salt and pepper hair pulled back into a tight bun, she's strict, but kind, a trait that most maids employed by Lady Dimitrescu seem to lack.
"Ah, y/n, good morning."
"Good morning Zina. The Lady said that you have new responsibilities to go over with me?"
"Yes, I do. I was rather surprised at how quickly she's moved you up the ranks, but she seems to have taken a liking to you. Something you should be grateful for, the Lady doesn't often favor her maids." She says with a smile, but also gives you a look to let you know that she's serious, and to not fuck it up.
"Oh, trust me, it's not something I take for granted." You reply.
"Good." She says as she smiles at you.
You've grown to like Zina, she's not afraid to put you in your place, but she also always gives credit where it's due and she's constantly encouraging the other maids. She's certainly the mother figure to the staff, especially the younger girls. Lady Dimitrescu also seems to like Zina, which is probably why she's been her head maid for so long. You've caught the two of them casually chatting a few times when you've been cleaning, it took you by surprise at first, but you figured that for someone who's been around as long as Zina has, it would be weird if the Lady didn't talk to her. Plus, there's rarely visitors in the castle, so you figure Lady Dimitrescu has to talk to someone once in awhile that isn't one of her daughters.
Zina leads you to one of the tables in the kitchen and you both sit. She pulls out a new list of responsibilities, which now include cleaning the Lady's chambers and study, as well as a few other rooms that were considered off limits before. You're also surprised to see that you're now responsible for mending the Lady's garments if they need sewing, ironing anything she may need, assisting her with "personal matters" which aren't defined, but after last night you think you have an idea of what that could entail, and assisting her with some of her more formal and business affairs.
You hear maids coming and going from the kitchen door behind you, greeting each other as they pass by. You hear a set of footsteps walking quickly through the doors and then whispers. You think you hear the maid whisper the word "neck" and you turn around to see the maid you saw earlier when you were leaving your Mistresses chambers, whispering to the cook Zina was with earlier. The maid turns and sees you looking at her and looks like a deer in headlights, quickly running out of the kitchen. The cook looks at you wide-eyed and you quickly turn around, and try to casually cover the marks with your hand. As you turn back to Zina you see her eyes shift from the marks on your neck to your eyes. You quickly look back down at the paper in front of you and you feel your cheeks turn red.
"Ah," Zina quietly says. "That explains it." She says with a small smile.
You look up at her with a mix of worry and embarrassment in your eyes.
"Come with me." She says as she gets up.
You follow her out of the kitchen and into her room. You've never been in here before, it looks exactly like the other maids rooms, except this one is bigger and has more amenities, like a fireplace, her own bathroom and a beautiful view outside of her window. She closes the door and gestures for you to sit a the small table in her room.
"Let me see." She says, gently moving your hair and looking at the wounds on your neck. "Oh that's not so bad, I've definitely seen worse. She must have been gentle with you."
You cheeks feel like they're on fire, you're trying to look at anything that isn't Zina, you're convinced you're going to die of embarrassment if you look her into her eye right now.
"Now that I understand the full scope of the situation, I am going to revise my statement from earlier."
You slowly look up at her, you have no idea what she means, but you're terrified that it isn't going to be good.
"The Lady has more than taken a liking to you, I had my suspicions when she promoted you again so quickly but I wasn't sure as she does surprise me once in awhile, I think mostly for her own entertainment. Anyway, the position you've found yourself in is certainly a rare one. I've seen many girls in your position over the years, and once I picked up on her pattern I began to tell every girl the same thing." Your eyes widen at her words, a fear creeping it's way into your chest. "You must be obedient, you will get certain privilege's by being in your position, but it also means that she will be keeping an extra close eye on you. I've seen too many girls let the praise and attention they receive from her get to their heads and it did not end well for any of them. Also, I understand what I'm about to say is either going to sound either far-fetched or impossible for you, but, do not become too attached to her. You do whatever you have to while in her chambers, but outside of that, you are just another maid."
Her words are as sincere as they are serious, there's no hint of jealousy or envy in her voice, you can tell she genuinely cares for you, and all of the maids. She's probably going out on a huge limb even talking to you about any of this, but you're grateful.
"She picks maidens, not dissimilar to how a dog picks a toy, and will play with them until they're either useless or she grows bored, and then finds a new one to take the place of the old one. And things normally don't end up well for the old maid because it's not uncommon for them to become possessive of the Lady and go into a blinding jealous rage. Although that doesn't happen as frequently, because as I said earlier, lots of girls let it go to their heads before she grows bored and she doesn't have a choice but to find someone new. Understand?"
You nod your head as you realize what Zina is trying to tell you.
“What- what happened to the last one?" You ask with a little fear in your voice.
"That's the peculiar thing, nothing, at least, not yet." She says, rolling her eyes. "I've never witnessed this before with the Lady, but, it seems the second you came along the other girl was dismissed from her duties long before the Lady usually becomes bored or deems them useless. Usually if there's another maid that catches her eye, the Lady will have both girls," she pauses to carefully choose her words. "hired, for the position, so to speak. Usually ending with one of them being disobedient or becoming jealous of the other leaving only one maiden left. This time however, the girl was dismissed entirely and sent back to her regular duties."
Zina seems curious of your Mistresses actions and looks at you, like she's trying to solve a puzzle that only your Mistress knows the solution to.
"Huh." You say as thoughts flood your mind.
"Now, this conversation never leaves this room. Understand?" Zina says with a seriousness in her voice.
"Yes ma'am."
"And just because I gave you this information does not mean under any circumstances are you to come to me if issues between the two of you arise. I want to know nothing about what happens between the two of you, and like I said, do not get attached to her outside of her chambers. I cannot help you if you disobey her or anger her, know that at the end of the day, my loyalty lies with her. I am merely telling you this as a courtesy, plus, it's difficult enough finding decent workers, I'd hate to lose another one."
"May I ask a question?"
"Of course."
"How many of the girls she's, hired, before me, actually survive?"
"Not many. But like I said, that's often due to their own actions."
"Are there any still alive that work here?"
"Yes, not many, but a few. Don't for a second even entertain the idea of speaking with those maids about your situation if you do find out who they are. It will end poorly for both of you."
"Oh, no, I would never."
"Good."
"The last maid that she hired, was she the one who-"
Zina sighs and almost looks aggravated. "Yes."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"No, no, my frustrations are not with you, they are with Stefana. Be careful around her, she's brilliant yet cunning. If I can be blunt, I would try and avoid her at all costs, she's not particularly friendly to the new maids, no less to the one who has essentially replaced her. I am aware that she became a little violent with you once she heard whispers of you being invited into the Lady's chambers. Once she finds out about this," she says pointing to your neck. "She will probably only get worse. I've tried to tell her that it will only end poorly for her if she continues, even after the Lady punished her for hurting you, but she is stubborn. She is a prime example of the blind jealousy I was talking about earlier, she's not the first to do this, nor will she be the last, regardless, it all ends the same way for girls like that. If you value your life, you will listen to her and do your best to avoid angering her. Understood?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Like I said, it is pertinent that this conversation does not leave this room, for your own safety, and frankly, for mine as well. The Lady will not be pleased to hear I'm speaking about her private matters with her personal handmaidens."
"As far as I'm concerned, this conversation never happened, I actually don't even know why I'm here." You say with a soft smile.
"Good." A warm smile crosses her face. "Now, I believe the Lady wants you to start in her study today, I will bring your breakfast up there for you, it's probably best you try and avoid the kitchen for the time being, but I will arrange to see you're still properly fed."
"Thank you, Zina."
"Of course."
You both stand and you open her door and go to walk out. You stop and turn to her and look at her. "Thank you." You say quietly.
She smiles and nods her head as you say "you're welcome." and you make your way up to your Mistresses study.
You knock on the door when you approach it and hear her velvety voice on the other side.
"Come in."
You open the door and walk into the room.
"Ah, y/n." She says with a smile. "Come in, I presume you met with Zina?"
"Yes Mistress, I just finished going over my duties with her."
"Wonderful-"
Her speech is interrupted when the door to her study swings open and slams against the wall.
"Mother!!" Cassandra yells.
"What did I say about slamming my doors?" She says, glaring at the girl. "And knocking? Did I raise you without manners?" She hisses.
Cassandra looks down at her feet.
"No mother, sorry."
She brings her fingers to the bridge of he nose and takes a deep breath and looks at her.
"Tell me, what was so important you felt the need to burst into my office?" You're surprised to hear a sweetness in her voice, you had expected her to sound angry, demeaning even. But none of that was there, just a mother talking to her child.
Your Mistress waves the girl over and pulls her into her lap and wraps her arms around her waist and looks down at her daughter.
"It was nothing." Cassandra sighs.
"No, no, I'm certain it was something, especially given your grand entrance." She smiles and gently laughs. "Tell me." She says as she caresses Cassandra's cheek.
"Ugh. It was Daniela! She won't leave me alone, all I wanted to do was sit in my room, by myself, and work on my sketches. But she burst into my room, started touching everything and tried to grab my sketchbook and ripped my sketch!" She pouts and leans into her mothers shoulder.
Your mistress sighs, comforting her child.
"You know your sister just wants to be included-" she begins.
"But!" Cassandra interrupts.
"No no, let me finish." Your Mistress says as Cassandra huffs. "however, she should have knocked and respected your things. I will speak to her about it, okay? I'm terribly sorry your sketch was ripped, but, I know you," she places her forehead against Cassandra's. "Your wonderfully creative mind will come up with something to make it even better, tears and all. Next time she wants to join, give her a pencil and some paper and let her tire herself out, you know she doesn't have that kind of patience, after a few minutes I'm sure she will grow bored and find something else to do." She smiles.
Cassandra giggles and nods her head, nuzzling into her mother. Your Mistress studies the girl in her lap, her forehead still against Cassandras and closes her eyes, enjoying the fleeting moment with her daughter. She places a kiss on her forehead and taps her leg.
"Go on, you have sketches to attend to and I have work I must finish."
Cassandra wraps her arms around her mother and kisses her on the cheek.
"Thank you mom, I love you."
"Si eu te iubesc dragă."
(I love you too, sweetheart)
She adoringly watches her as she leaves and turns back to her paper.
"Door."
You hear footsteps run back and Cassandra pops in again.
"Right, sorry!" She pulls the door closed and you hear her footsteps disappear down the hall.
She shakes her head and mutters to herself with a smile on her face, bringing her attention back to the paper in her hand.
"Right," she says after a minute, "where were we?" She turns to you, she soft demeanor melting back to her usual, harder exterior.
"You were about to say something, Mistress, then-" You say.
"Oh yes, Zina went over your new responsibilities with you, yes?"
"Yes Mistress."
"Good. Do you have any questions about your responsibilities?"
"No Mistress."
"Very well then. I am behind on filing my paperwork and need your assistance."
"Of course, Mistress."
She gestures to a large stack of papers sitting on the countertop of the bookshelf and explains how she needs them organized and filed away in the massive filing cabinet sitting next to it.
"And do try to avoid reading the contents of the pages that are not necessary for your tasks."
"Oh, I wouldn't, Mistress," you sheepishly look up at her. "I respect your private business affairs, I won't pry."
She brings her hand up to your cheek and caresses it.
"Good, my little pet." She smiles as she feels the heat rising in your cheeks.
She holds your chin between her forefinger and thumb and lifts it so you're looking into her eyes. Her glowing golden eyes are captivating. She gently pulls your lower lip down a little with her thumb and you feel the heat between your legs. You have no idea how she does it, but she seems to immediately know when you're turned on or if your heart is racing. She looks you up and down and cocks her eyebrow, the corner of her lip just barely curling. She drops her hand and turns back to her work.
"Go on." She says, nodding over to the papers.
"Yes Mistress." You say, your voice just barely shaking.
You grab the stack of papers and look around for a second to see if there was a surface you could work on. When you don't see one that will work for you, you sit on the floor and start separating the papers into piles by category. Invoices, Memos, Order Lists, Inventory, etc. You try to work as quickly and silently as possible to not disturb your Mistress from her other work.
"Hm." You hear your Mistress hum in your direction. You look up and see her, watching you, curiosity on her face.
"Am- am I doing something wrong, Mistress?" You nervously ask. You're trying your very best to keep her as happy as possible, especially after your conversation with Zina earlier.
"No, just merely observing your process. It's, peculiar."
"Oh," you look down at the small stacks laid out in front of you and back up at her. "Well, I figured it would be easiest to separate the documents by the categories, then organize the smaller piles by date, then file them into their designated folders."
"Hm." She hums once more. "Logical. Carry on." She says and turns back to her work. You wouldn't say she was impressed, but she certainly wasn't upset, so you continue.
You hear a knock on the door. "Come in."
Zina opens the door with a tray.
"Good morning Lady Dimistrescu."
"Good morning Zina." She says pleasantly, eyeing the tray.
"I hope you don't mind the intrusion, I offered to bring y/n's breakfast up here for her. I felt it might be best for her to avoid the kitchen for the time being."
Your Mistress pauses for a moment, considering Zina's suggestion of you avoiding the kitchen.
"You're probably right, thank you Zina. You can leave it over there." she says, gesturing to a side table nearby.
She puts the tray down and smiles down at you, you return the smile and she walks away.
"Is there anything you need from me before I leave my Lady?" Zina asks.
"No, no, that is all. Thank you Zina. You can bring her lunch up here as well, as I presume you are planning on hand delivering y/n her meals for the next few days?"
"Your presumption is correct my Lady." She says with a smile.
"Zina you are a blessing, without you I'm convinced I'd only have half of the staff that I currently do." Lady Dimitrescu says.
"I appreciate the compliment my Lady, thank you. I will come back and deliver y/n's lunch this afternoon, I'll take this tray back with me when I deliver lunch."
"Thank you, dear." Lady Dimitrescu says.
Zina shuts the door and you continue to sort through the papers.
"Are you not going to eat?" She asks without looking at you.
"Oh, um, I was gonna finish organizing the last of this stack first." You say with a bit of nervousness.
She turns and looks at the large stack you have next to you and looks back at you.
"That is not necessary, I can't have my little pet going hungry now, the papers can wait. Go on, eat."
"Yes Mistress." You get up and walk over to the tray.
Lady Dimitrescu gets up and walks over to a chair with another stack of papers on it. She moves the papers to her desk and brings the chair over to you.
"Oh, thank you Mistress, you didn't have to-"
"I know." Her lips curl into a smile as she turns around and reclaims her seat.
The interaction left you a little confused, but you climb up into the gigantic seat and eat your breakfast as quickly and quietly as possible.
By the time you're done eating you're stuffed, as nervous as you are around your Mistress, this was one of the most relaxed meals you've had since you got here. You walk back over to your spot surrounded by papers and sit back down, as you go to sit your knees crack with a loud "POP." You wince at the sound, worried you've disturbed her. She turns her head towards you when she hears the sound.
"What was that?" She asks.
"I'm so sorry Mistress, my knees crack like that sometimes."
"Are you injured?" She has a mild concern in her voice when she asks.
"No, no Mistress, I'm not injured. It's been happening since I was young. It's not painful, just noisy." You say with a sheepish smile.
"Very well." She says and turns her attention back to her papers. You think you hear her mutter the words "human" to herself but quickly go back to sorting the papers.
You finish sorting through the stack of papers and organizing the smaller stacks by date and start filing them away in the filing cabinet. You swear you see her looking at you out of the corner of your eye but you try and focus on not putting the papers in the wrong folder.
The filing cabinet dwarfs you, but luckily most of the papers went into the drawers you're able to reach. You have just a few stacks left and realize they have to go into the top drawer, you look up at it, you're not even sure if you can reach the handle. You look around the room to see if there's a ladder or something you can use and look back up at the cabinet with your head cocked, trying to figure out how you're going to get up there.
You hear her chuckle behind you and your cheeks start to turn pink.
"Need help draga?" She asks.
"Oh, um, I," you look over at her, she looks entertained watching you trying to figure out how to get up there and you look at your feet. "Yes please, Mistress."
You're taken by surprise when she stands up and puts her hands around your waist and lifts you like you weigh nothing. Your cheeks feel like they're on fire, you feel like a child. You open the filing cabinet and file away the papers into their folders and close the drawer. She lowers you to the ground and gives your side a little squeeze before letting go. You twitch and let out a little whine, her squeeze hitting one of the most ticklish spots on your body. You hear her smirk in your ear as she bends down and puts her lips to your ear.
"Ticklish are we?" She says as she puts her fingers back on your side.
"Yes Mistress." You say, using every ounce of willpower you have in you to not succumb to the sensation at your side.
She knows it's taking all of your energy to not squirm and she loves it. She digs her nails a little harder into you and you bite the inside of your cheek, all of your energy right now is focused on not flinching. She seems to take this as a challenge because she digs her nails a little harder into you and then drags them across the fabric of your dress. You break and squirm under her grasp, involuntarily bending away from her fingers and you let out a small squeal.
She chuckles in your ear, satisfied with herself.
"That's all it took?" She says, her voice sultry. "My sweet, sensitive little pet."
Her hand slides away from your side, past the small of your back and away from you as she goes to sit back down at her desk. You can feel the wetness between your legs grow as your heartrate settles. She looks at you out of the corner of her eye as you try and compose yourself, pleased with how easily she can fluster you, like a cat toying with a mouse.
You continue to clean around her study, dusting, organizing a few things, filing away stray papers, the like. Zina comes and goes with lunch and tells you she'll deliver your dinner to your room.
The sun begins to set and you realize you've spent almost all day in the study with your Mistress, "she really does work a lot" you think to yourself. She dismisses you for the day and you head back to your room.
As you make your way through the castle you see Stefana ahead of you, you look down and try to make your way to your room as fast as possible. You hear footsteps quickly coming towards you and you're thrown back a little when she shoves her shoulder into you. You catch yourself from falling over and start to walk away.
"You're a fucking coward." She hisses.
You turn towards her, you're not sure why, but you had a feeling walking away wasn't going to make her stop tonight. She walks up to you and gets in your face.
"I told you to know your place, you bitch." She spat in your face. "What? You have nothing to say?"
You open your mouth to speak but you don't even know what to say. You know why she's angry, but it's not like you had any control over the situation. She glares into your eyes and takes a step back.
"Well lets see if you have anything to say about THIS."
She pulls her shirt out of her skirt and lifts it up, your eyes widen, a little horrified at what you're looking at. Four massive claw marks across her abdomen, she cut your arm weeks ago, it may have scarred a little but it's fully healed. Her wounds look like they've just started to heal, there's no doubt in your mind that they're going to scar, badly.
"Oh my- did she-?" You whisper as you stand there, shocked.
She walks back up to you. "You think you're so special, because she picked you, I bet she makes you call her 'Mistress' she calls you her 'little pet' and 'draga mea' and brushes your hair and whispers into your ear" Her voice begins to crack as tears well up in her eyes. "and tells you how special you are to her. Shit she may even tell you that she loves you. But she doesn't."
You think in a weird way she's trying to warn you.
"She loves ME."
Never mind. This must be the "blinding jealous rage" that Zina was talking about earlier.
"And if you don't fucking back off you will regret it. I will make you regret ever stepping foot into this castle. Got it?"
All you could do was nod, you really didn't know what to say anyway, but you also figured it was best to speak as little as possible and just let her get it out and not add fuel to the fire. She shoves past you and you stand there for a second, your brain trying to process all of, whatever that was.
You head back to your room, you easily dismiss everything that Stefana said, Zina warned her, and you, if she didn't listen and got too caught up in it, that's on her. The one thing you weren't able to shake was what your Mistress did to her. You've heard rumors' of the horrors that take place here, but so far, you really haven't witnessed much of anything, sure there were often pools of blood, tattered pieces of clothing occasionally, the girls leaving the castle clean and returning with blood all over their clothes and faces, never sure if it was animals blood or not, but you never witnessed any of it. Which frankly, you were fine with. You couldn't help but feel a little guilty about her wounds, if that was your Mistress' way of giving someone a warning, you don't want to even try and imagine what their punishments would be.
"But she wouldn't do that to me, right?" You catch yourself thinking. "Shit. Don't get attached outside of the chambers." You remind yourself. That was one of the dangerous things about your mistress, she can make anyone feel special, chosen, like they mean something to her. The general consensus is that they don't mean anything to her, maybe it's her way of having an intimate moment with someone without commitment, or how she displays her power and authority, you weren't sure, but you wanted to know more, to figure out why. So much of you wanted to peel back the layers of her until you're able to see what's underneath the icy exterior. And you know that that's a very dangerous thought, it might as well be a death wish. But there was a small part of you in the back of your head that made you think it was different with you, the rational side of you knew that was a ridiculous thought, but that small, shiny thought was tempting to dive into.
Your concentration on your thoughts is broken when you hear a knock at the door, you open it to see Zina.
"Oh, Zina, hi."
"I came to collect your tray."
You look over at your tray, completely untouched. She gives you a look.
"Sorry, I was distracted, I was thinking about something."
She gives you a concerned look but doesn't say anything.
"No, no, not that." You say quietly. "Well, kind of," she goes to speak but you cut her off. "Stefana berated me in the halls, I was thinking about that part of it."
Her face relaxes and she nods her head. "How many times do I have to tell that girl-" she says to herself as she shakes her head. "You know if I witness her doing anything to you, I must report it to the Lady, right? Her orders given directly to me. And so you know, Stefana's 'punishment' from that last stunt she pulled will be considered a vacation compared to the wrath she is going to face if she does anything else."
"I understand. I can't believe she," you say quietly as you put your hand over your stomach.
"Dear, I know you're still relatively new here, and it's been quite uneventful the last few months so not much has happened. But, that," she points to your hand over your stomach. "was her being generous. Very generous." You swallow hard at her words. "I have been here for what?" She pauses to think. "30, 35 years? I have seen things no one should ever witness, things that should never happen to people, things that would be cruel to do to worthless animals, no less human beings." despair begins to creep its way into your chest. "But, I have also seen incredible kindness, a mother who dotes on her children, children who are a handful, yes, but children, sisters, who fight and bicker to no end, but love each other more than anything else in this world. Children who adore their mother. The Lady can be horrifically ruthless, as can the girls, but, nothing is ever 100% evil or 100% good, and they have good in them, you just have to look a little harder sometimes to see it."
"How, how did you survive here all of these years?" You quietly ask.
"I did my job, and damn well, I listened to everything the Lady told me, did everything she asked of me, yes I had some slipups, my fair share of punishments with the scars to prove it. But I didn't let the darkness I saw here affect the light in me." She says, pointing to her chest. "And I was kind, to the Lady, the staff, the other maids, even to those that were mean, people you'd think were 100% evil, and kind to the girls, especially the girls. One thing I will tell you, the Lady would slaughter every single living creature here for her girls, myself included. They are her sun, moon and stars. You've been really good with them, and she's taken notice. They are not easy to deal with, but I will say even I'm impressed with how well you deal with their antics. I think that's a big reason why she chose you, the ones that her girls don't get along with never last long, but they seem to have taken a liking to you. And that is certainly not something to take for granted." She looks over at the tray again. "Bring the tray to me in the morning, goodnight y/n."
"Goodnight Zina."
You close the door and sit back on your bed as her words sink in, you're grateful for her brutal honesty, even if it terrified you a little. But she's right about things not being 100% evil or 100% good, you're probably going to see some pretty horrific and gruesome shit, but you have to remind yourself to look past the blood and gore and focus on the good parts. At the very least so you can survive, so maybe one day you can see the kids again, squeeze Elena and hear her shrill giggling. You have to do it for them.
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thelibraryghost · 11 days
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A Young Person's Guide to 18th-Century Western Fashion
unabridged version at blogspot
General info Cox, Abby. "I Wore 18th-Century Clothing *Every Day for 5 YEARS & This Is What I Learned (Corsets Aren't Bad!)." YouTube. May 10, 2020. Cullen, Oriole. “Eighteenth-Century European Dress.” In Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2004. Glasscock, Jessica. "Eighteenth-Century Silhouette and Support." In Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2004. Accessories Banner, Bernadette. "Women's Pockets Weren't Always a Complete Disgrace | A Brief History: England, 15th c - 21st c." YouTube. April 10, 2021. Colonial Williamsburg. "#TradesTuesday: Men's Accessories." YouTube. June 13, 2021. Murden, Sarah. "The Georgian era fashion for straw hats." All Things Georgian. December 6, 2018. Cosmetics & hygiene Cox, Abby. "I Followed an 18th-Century Moisturizer & Sunscreen Recipe & it kinda worked??." YouTube. February 21, 2021. Cox, Abby. "We tried making *5* different 250 year old rouge (blush) recipes || [real] regencycore makeup." YouTube. August 29, 2021. JYF Museums. "Hygiene in the 18th Century | From the Farm to the Army." YouTube. August 21, 2021. Décor Heckscher, Morrison H. “American Rococo.” In Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2003. Munger, Jeffrey. “French Porcelain in the Eighteenth Century.” In Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2003. Formal wear SnappyDragon. "This dressing gown changed fashion forever : the feminist history of going out in loungewear." YouTube. April 15, 2022. Stowell, Lauren. "The Many Types of 18th Century Gowns." American Duchess. March 15, 2013. Zebrowska, Karolina. "Cottagecore Style Is Much Older Than You Think." YouTube. June 30, 2021. Hair care Cox, Abby. "I made 250-year-old Hair Products Using Original Recipes (and animal fat...)." YouTube. November 7, 2021. Cox, Abby. "I tried a 300-year-old hair care routine for a year & this is what I learned (it's awesome!)." YouTube. January 23, 2022. Cox, Abby. "What's the Deal with 18th Century Wigs? (and why Bridgerton really messed this up)." YouTube. June 1, 2023. Laundry Cox, Abby. "Making 300 Year Old SLIME for Laundry Day." YouTube. June 15, 2023. Townsends. "Historical Laundry Part 2: No Washing Machine, No Dryer, Hit It With A Stick?" YouTube. June 3, 2019. Outer- & working-wear JYF Museum. "Getting Dressed | Clothing for an 18th Century Middling Woman." YouTube. March 18, 2021. Major, Joanne. "The practicalities of wearing riding habits, and riding ‘en cavalier’." All Things Georgian. March 12, 2019. Rudolph, Nicole. "What did Pirates ACTUALLY Wear? Fashion at Sea in the 18th c & Our Flag Means Death Costumes." YouTube. May 8, 2022. Shoes Chin, Cynthia E. "Martha Washington's Shoes." George Washington's Mount Vernon. No date. Murden, Sarah. "18th-century shoes." All Things Georgian. December 15, 2015. Rudolph, Nicole. "Real 18th century Shoes? Historical Shoemaker Examines an Antique." YouTube. December 13, 2020. Textiles Cox, Abby. "18th Century Printed Cotton Do's & Don't's." American Duchess. December 23, 2019. Stowell, Lauren. "Fabrics for the 18th Century and Beyond." American Duchess. June 14, 2021. Townsends. "Oil Cloth - Waterproof Coverings for Your Campsite." YouTube. July 30, 2018. Undergarments Major, Joanne. "Quilted Petticoats: worn by all women and useful in more ways than one." All Things Georgian. November 20, 2018. Rudolph, Nicole. "Making 18th century Stays for the Ideal Body Shape : Historical Undergarments." YouTube. August 12, 2023. SnappyDragon. "RUMP ROAST : Ranking historical fashion's wildest fake butt pads." YouTube. October 27, 2023. Townsends. "Sewing Histories' Most Popular Garment - The Fabric Of History - Townsends." YouTube. September 3, 2022.
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pastanest · 1 year
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Brienne x she/her!reader
A/N: feminists stand UP! in this house we support women’s rights AND women’s wrongs!
warning: winter’s leaving and hot girl summer’s returning so it’s a lil steamy in the end for all my strong, independent, Brienne whores xoxo
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To Be A Woman
It had almost been a cruel joke on Brienne her entire life. The fact that you, belonging to a family that was still noble but not as highly regarded as the Tarth’s, had always been more of a lady than she had. If you had been anyone else, Brienne would have felt a harbored, silently seething jealousy towards you. Had you not only shown Brienne kindness and respect, had you treated her as the lesser lady that she felt she was, had you ever made a comparison between the two of you or made a point of it to others; had you not been as perfect as you possibly could be, perhaps Brienne would be able to feel differently towards you.
Instead, she finds herself joining you to yet another dress fitting. It was not something Brienne enjoyed, nor was it something that she was ever involved in beyond giving her opinion on the dresses you tried, but somehow, you always found a way to convince her. To Brienne, the reason was obvious the moment you stepped out from behind the curtain for the sixth time, in a dress not so different from one you had tried three dresses prior, but it stole Brienne’s breath from her very lungs regardless. The stars in her eyes made you smile as you twirled on the raised podium, the seamstress clapping and cheering the same approvals she’d had for all of the previous dresses. The only opinion you care for, though, you always have to ask for.
“Lady Brienne, what do you think?”
It takes your dear friend a moment to respond, choosing her words carefully before she nods.
“It suits you very well, my Lady.”
You roll your eyes playfully. “I do wish you wouldnt regard me with such formalities, especially when you are the Lady of Tarth!”
Brienne scoffs at this. “I could never wear such pretty garments, Lady (Y/N).”
You raise an eyebrow, gesturing to her choice of uniform. “And I could never wear such strong, solid silver - that is not what makes a woman, dear Brienne.”
Then, it was Brienne’s turn to roll her eyes, while you decided on the dresses you wished to purchase and requested they be delivered to your quarters when convenient. Taking Brienne’s arm, you stepped out onto the street and began to make observations about the market’s most recent additions in products. Strolling through the bustling crowds of the townsfolk, not one stopped to stare at the woman that towered over you at your side, not one whispered to another cruel gossip about the untraditional armored woman walking lady about the town. The warmness of your presence was a shield stronger than any Brienne could hope to hold in her own hand, transforming the viciousness of the public’s usual opinion into kind smiles and well wishes, passed to her as much as they were to you.
As unlikely as the friendship has always been between the two of you, according to Brienne, to you it has always been second nature. To Brienne, you were simply too kind, too empathetic and too beautiful to resist in any and every sense of such words. You always have and always will be something that Brienne wished to be, in some ways, something unattainable and most commonly undesirable in favor of her path of strength and righteousness, but there was something so enchanting about the the sweet scents that followed you everywhere you went, the flowing gowns that trailed around every corner you turned, the pretty potions that you added to your baths and used on your face before retiring each night. Something so beautiful and unknown to someone like Brienne, who had been all but forced to deem such things as never to be hers, by right.
If the most she could do was exist beside you, see and feel such beautiful things by being in your presence, that would be more than enough for her, she thought. The smile that you were the first to give her had been the most like a girl she had felt in all her years pretending to be one, she had often mused.
Evenings like this, spent in one tavern and then the next, following the music and you as you danced towards it, have always been Brienne’s favorites. The part of her that rolled her eyes and feigned disapproval at your antics had long since passed, replaced by an enamored smile as she takes the closest seat she can to the musician, her eyes never leaving you. Your hips sway with the fluidity of water or wine, your gown flowing with each motion, the smile on your face one that Brienne is certain comes from any of the heavens that may lie beyond this life, your eyes closed as you lose yourself to the plucking of strings. And though you know better than to drag Brienne to her feet and embarrass her by forcing her to dance, you throw yourself into her lap, wrapping your arms around her neck as you share a laugh that is so without worry, without further thought, Brienne wonders if she is in a dream. Not a drop of wine fuels your action, but an energy and force that she has never understood, and has no desire to. Though she wishes to decode every intricate detail of your personality, there are aspects of you that are simply beyond explanation, and she will love those all the same.
The moonlight casts a gentle glow above you as you stroll arm in arm back to Evenfall Hall, you having been an honored guest while your family conduct arrangements with Brienne’s father. Giggling and sneaking through an entrance to avoid being seen, you lean on each other as though nothing more than a pair of girls far younger than you are, far more rebellious than either of you have ever truly been, but the rush is just as exhilarating when you collapse on the bed, safely beyond the door to your quarters. In the few minutes it takes for the two of you to catch your breaths, you stare up at the canopy of the bed in a daze.
“It is a relief to know that we will never be more than girls, you and I.” You muse playfully, enjoying the continuation of youthful bliss that can only be experienced with her.
Brienne scoffs. “If you would regard me as such, then I suppose you are correct.”
A deep sigh passes your lips. “You must stop chiding yourself like that, Lady Brienne.”
She sits up, turning to stare down at you with a frown. “It is no chide, but a simple fact. Perhaps I was a girl for a few years after I was born, but I was not allowed to be for much longer.”
Sad eyes meet hers, staring up at her with such sincerity she very nearly has to break your gaze, but she wouldnt dare. “You were banished from what is nothing more than a man’s version of being a girl, when they know nothing of the sort.”
Brienne’s frown deepens, and you continue.
“Being a girl is not long hair, long gowns, dances or potions or baths, it is not something restricted to a certain body that must fit in a special box designed by men. I heard one of those Lannister pricks-“
“(Y/N).” Brienne raises an eyebrow in warning, her own respect for people outshining your general disapproval at those with snobbish natures, while you roll your eyes.
“I heard one of those ever so noble, ever so rich Lannister men, say that lions do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, and the same can be said for women. No man can understand what it is to be a woman, in the same way we can never understand what it is to be a man. I am sure being a man goes beyond drooling at everything with a hole, though they do little to prove it-“
Brienne can't withhold the gasp of a laugh she releases at that, always surprised by and appreciative of your crude humor.
With a bright smile on your face, you sit up with her. “The point I am trying to make is that being a woman is not something anyone else can touch, take away from you or feel. Just because I like to dance in a gown does not make me anymore of a woman than you. If you find your femininity in your armor, in the swing of your sword, in the strength you feel in your righteousness, then that is what makes you a woman, Lady Brienne. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”
There are mere inches between your faces, your voice nothing more than a whisper by the time your explanation is finished, reflecting the gentleness of the tears shining in Brienne’s eyes.
“If you do not wish to be perceived as feminine in any sense, then that is perfectly within your right, as well. Nothing is inherently feminine within you unless you want it to be and decide that it is. So tell me, dear Brienne, how do you accept yourself?” You take ahold of her hand to encourage her, and her glazed eyes dart down to acknowledge the gesture, her cheeks flushing pink as she swallows nervously.
“I…If what you say is a true, which I believe it must be, then…I am a woman.” She says, sounding sure of that statement and confident in it for the first time in her life, her gaze firm as it returns to yours.
Grinning at her, you squeeze her hand. “Then we are nothing more than a pair of girls, are we not?”
Brienne chuckles bashfully. “I suppose this is an accurate statement now, my Lady.”
Releasing her hand, you approach your dresser and sit in front of the mirror, beginning to remove your jewelry and tidy it away habitually.
A question tugs at Brienne’s mind, but she temporarily loses all trace of any thought as she watches the way your fingers detangle your hair with expertly gentle, nimble movements. Utterly mesmerized, Brienne shakes her head and focusses her mind.
“If you have never felt the way I did when being referred to as a lady, why is it you disapprove of it when I regard you as such?” She questions, remembering all the times when you had been quick to correct her when referring to you as ‘my Lady’.
Looking over your shoulder, you smile at her. “If you wish to call me your Lady, you will need to make me yours, first.”
Brienne does not have the tools available to check, but she is absolutely certain that in that moment, her heart stops beating, her soul glimpses the world from a bird’s eye as she ascends to the heavens, and then she drops back into her own armor quite suddenly, her face substantially hotter than it had been when she had last felt it. The dumbstruck expression on her face makes you laugh into a wheezing frenzy, wiping tears from your eyes as you stand up and disappear behind a curtain to get changed. If Brienne’s temperature rises much more, she will be forced to consult the God of Light.
She fixes her gaze to the floor, desperately trying to think of anything other than the fact that you are undressing and stepping into a nightgown behind a curtain that is no more than a few feet behind her. The honor that pumps in her very veins will not be outrun by adrenaline, not this day. But as she feels the bed dip behind her, and those nimble fingers beginning to untie parts of her armor, she cannot remember how to swear anything to the old gods or the new, except that she is, undoubtedly, on the brink of fainting.
“Am I wrong to think that, based on the frequency at which you have referred to me as your Lady, that is what you wish me to be?” You tease, your lips so close to Brienne’s ear she can hear your breath in her hair, a trail of goosebumps erupting on her neck.
She gulps, taking a deep breath before shaking her head.
Without sparing another second, you slink your way around her until you are straddling her lap, Brienne’s hands acting on an instinct she did not know she had when they immediately lift to hold you there. She takes perhaps half a second to thank every god she knows for the fabric of the nightgown you are wearing, because had she felt your skin beneath her hands, Brienne is sure she would not have survived the contact. Her eyes meet yours, wide and stunned, frozen in place much like the rest of her, while yours are relaxed and - dare Brienne think it - sultry?
“Then, my dear Brienne, I must amend an earlier statement.” You begin, and she nods feverishly, urging you to continue because she has lost the ability to speak. “I said that being a woman is not something anyone else can touch, take away from you or feel, and while it is still true that nobody can take away what it means to be a woman…it is quite possible to touch, to feel, such a thing. In more ways than one, so I’ve heard.”
Brienne blinks rapidly, clearing her throat. “M-More ways than one, you say? Perhaps your take on a woman is not as accurate as you first thought, then.”
You nod along with her, a smirk rising at the corner of your lips, which look more inviting to Brienne with every second that passes. “Perhaps you are right, perhaps it is you that should correct me on what it means to take a woman.”
Brienne’s eyes, if possible, grow even wider. “That is not what I-“
But you cut her off, the tension building around you and between you becoming too much, forcing you together in an almightly crash of flushed lips and relieved sighs as you card one hand through Brienne’s hair, the other still unclasping parts of her armor with far more urgency. Her hands squeeze your waist through the soft cotton of your nightgown, feeling the rise and fall of your chest against hers, even through the silver plates that separate you. As each part of armor that covered her torso and arms clatters against the bed, your hands scramble to feel more of her, the strength of the muscles in her arms, the firmness of her chest and hips, while hers hook under your thighs and pull you impossibly closer, her heart skipping a beat when your nightgown rises just enough for her fingertips to graze skin, soft and supple and hot to the touch for less than a second, but time enough for a hunger like nothing Brienne has ever known to bloom within her, and she reaches an epiphany.
Perhaps, Brienne thinks, this is what it is to be a woman.
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yeagersslut · 4 months
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Summary: Your parents are marrying you off to a snob of a prince. His family oozes from wealth and togheter you would have a widely enlarged kingdom, which is the main objective your parents are striving for. However just like any typical love story, your heart desired to be with someone else. Unfortunately you're also not, yet again.. quite the typical girl.
You yawned as you woke up awfully tired, fresh sunshine peeking shyly through the crack of your curtains. All night you had tossed and turned, tossed and turned. You weren’t able to sleep properly from the early midnight till dawn. You were dreading this day. You squint your eyes at the surprisingly large raid of sun invading your eyes. The weather had been awful these past few weeks so you weren’t quite expecting today to be so bright when it was gonna be the last time you and him were going to see eachother…
He was clueless.
yet.
One of the maids came by your room as she daintily hunched over the bedframe of your queensized bed. She sighed when she noticed your eyes adjusting to the dim lightening in your bedroom. ''Ah your Royal Highness'' The corner of her lips slightly quirked up. "I see you've already awakened." The older woman bows down a little as you slowly sit up against the firm headboard. ''Goodmorning'' A sudden wave of sleepiness hits you as you yawn and stretch your body a bit. ''And you don’t need to greet me formally Hilda.. you've taken care of me since birth'' Hilda grimaces as she slightly protests "I know (name).. but I- I shouldn't overuse it to my abilities. Well I shall take my leave now.” Hilda pauses coughing “Your regular garments… will be brought shortly by a new maid, while breakfast must have been finished preparing by our chef in the meantime'' You nod, silently thanking her with a subtle smile on your face. Hilda briefly bows before turning back around and gently closing the enormous door.
𝕊ℕ𝔼𝔸𝕂-ℙ𝔼𝔸𝕂
Inspired by : Save your tears, the weeknd
Let me know which character you think this will be about!
Comment if you want to be tagged in the next part
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eepyuii · 5 months
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frostbite — pt. 2
pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader
content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn-ish
cw ; swearing, a LOT of canon archon quest yappery (sorry)
note ; part two baybee!! in comparison to the ao3 version of this, i’ve decided to merge the chapters two by two to make them seem longer and since so far, i’ve only written five- next one might take a little longer to come out. or maybe i’ll just post chapter 5 stand-alone, who knows
also i’ve got a taglist now!
previous | next | masterlist
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your arrival in liyue harbor goes less than stellar.
the port is packed full of people who are either confused or outraged at the line of millelith soldiers who refuse to let anyone through. you end up waiting in a line for an annoying amount of time, up until you’re finally attended to by a soldier.
“i’m sorry but liyue harbor is not accepting in any tourists, we are trying to keep our… current situation under control as best we can while investigations are still in order, i hope you can understand.” the millelith states formally.
“oh, well err- i’m no tourist, i was born in liyue harbor! my parents migrated from overseas many years ago and i was just on a leisurely trip to snezhnaya, haha…” you lie through your teeth.
the mere mention of snezhnaya sets off the most minute reaction in the millelith solider, hence why you’re under a fake identity to begin with. you politely hand him a folder with forged documents so gracefully provided to you by your employers and pray to your lucky stars- and, well, tsaritsa, that it’s good enough for him to let you pass.
the soldier remains neutral for a few seconds as he eyes through the paper.
“very well. but please behave in an orderly fashion inside the city, as i said the trail on the ahem- incident is still fresh. welcome home.”
it takes a lot out of you not to snort at the welcome.
the poor naïve man truly wasn’t lying- the inside of the harbor was just as tumultuous as the outside. people in the streets gather in small groups and anxiously whisper their worries to each other. but most of all, they eye you suspiciously like you were the one to stab a sword through rex lapis with the entire harbor watching. you’d say they’re within reason to do so, losing their protector god and all.
you wouldn’t call yourself the most devoted of subjects but you’d also hate to imagine a snezhnaya without the tsaritsa so… benevolently
watching over it. challenging the heavenly principles like she has would certainly cause a catastrophic bite in the ass for the nation if she were to perish. maybe you could be a devoted subject enough to prevent that from happening.
drowning in a whirlpool of your own thoughts, you don’t even realize you’re already standing in front of the northland bank branch of liyue harbor. you try to walk inside as discreetly as possible, so as to not raise any suspicion toward you from the millelith or civilians and to not disturb the workers inside the bank.
unfortunately your efforts are in vain, because you’re recognized immediately.
“ah, sergeant y/n! we were expecting that you would arrive soon. please, allow me to take care of your luggage.” calls out the receptionist, ekaterina.
not only does she practically announce your arrival, she does it while the very bane of your existence is present in the main hall of the bank, formerly distracted as he spoke to a blonde woman in the strangest garments you’ve ever seen and a uh… floating baby?
childe’s ears, no- his entire body, almost instinctively perk up at the mention of your name and he abruptly stops his sentence midway through to look over to the entrance, to you.
“y/n? what in the name of the tsaritsa are you doing here?” he inquires, eyebrows furrowed with the purest of confusions. that is until he remembers the traveler and paimon are still present and most definitely more perpexled than he is.
so he decides to save face before anything else.
“missed me too much?” childe adds cockily.
your eyes almost roll on their own accord. “whatever you’d like to tell yourself. unfortunately, they decided to station me here to help… stabilize the situation, surely that has nothing to do with you screwing up?”
he scoffs. “there’s been nothing to screw up. in fact, the situation is plentiful under control and we’ve already devised a plan to solve it. your intrusion is unneede-”
“wh- you big liar! we literally met after you kicked a bunch of millelith butt in broad daylight! we’ve been stumbling up and down these past few days just to clear our names.” the floating baby speaks up.
you cock your head to the side at the revelation with curiosity and just a smidgen of smugness.
“and you! don’t think just because paimon likes making fun of childe doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. we heard what the lady called you, you’re fatui just like mr. pants-on-fire over here. just who are you anyway?!” the floating baby glides over to you with an accusatory finger pointed and a suspicious squint to her eyes.
the blonde woman, who’s been radio silent this entire time, merely puts a hand on the floating one’s shoulder to pull her back, though she also looks wary of you.
childe laughs at the display and holds out a formal hand as to introduce you. “traveler, paimon, this is y/n, my.. coworker as you can obviously tell. don’t worry though, they’re not a bad guy or kind of a bad guy like me, you have nothing to worry about. they’re actually an amazingly talented battle medic and head nurse of the fatui, that’s why they carry the sergeant title.”
you’re taken aback for a brief moment at the unexpected praise. you were waiting for just a formal introduction of your position in the fatui, or even one that contained a little snarky comment about your attitude towards him. but no, he only complimented your talents. it’s almost a little too courtly too.
“y/n, this is the traveler and paimon. these two not from around here but they unfortunately managed to land right in the bullseye of the incident and are being considered murder suspects. i’m merely helping them clear their names.”
ah, there’s the kicker. he’s “helping” those two.
you know childe well enough to comprehend that he wouldn’t just help some strangely dressed bystanders if he didn’t think he could snake his way into benefit, in this case most likely the geo gnosis. that’s why he’s trying to make somewhat of a good image for himself and those associated. conniving bastard.
then again, takes one to know one.
“so it’s true then, rex lapis is dead.” you hum. “but why has the millelith jumped to the conclusion that it was a murder so quickly? what exactly happened in the rite of descension?”
“weeell, the ceremony was starting just fine and dandy when suddenly the sky got unusually dark and then- bam! thunder strikes and this huge amber dragon drops dead from the sky.” paimon explains dramatically before shivering.
“eugh… really gave paimon the heebie-jeebies… then, the tianquan went over to examine the body and immediately announced it was a murder.”
“interesting.. did the dragon seem to have any visible injuries? any slashes or punctures? weapons sticking out of his body?”
“it’s tricky to say, as i was just relaying onto the traveler before you arrived, the qixing have long since confiscated the exuvia and are refusing to let anyone see it.” childe joins in, looking down pensively with a hand on his chin.
“it feels too early to draw any conclusions but paimon can confidently say it was not us and our names are squeaky clean! either way, we should get going- we’ve done so much walking up mountains since we got here and it’s making paimon famished.”
“see, you keep saying that but you still float, paimon-“ you hear the traveler say as the pair turns to leave.
“oh shush, you!!”
the air between the remaining two of you is thick with awkwardness. you decide to be one to break it once the traveler and paimon are well away from earshot.
“so, how will your charitable little side quest tie into getting the gnosis?”
“hah, you’ve barely arrived and you’re looking so far ahead?”
“aren’t you? in fact, didn’t you say you’d already ‘devised plan to solve it’ and that my presence was ‘unneeded’?” you question, accentuating the quotings in your sentence with a less than half-assed impression of childe’s own pesky tone at the time.
“jeez, i do not sound like that-“
“not the point-“
“yes yes, whatever… for the record i do already have a plan.” he admits. “unfortunately for you, doc, it is a bit airtight and therefore- your interference is unneeded.”
“y’know what, you’re right. if someone like you is describing their plans as airtight then maybe it’s best if i stay out of its splash zone.” you bite back and childe scoffs.
“who even ordered you be sent here?”
the malicious grin grows on your face with haste.
“the jester.”
“wha-?! argh, that old man…”
“ekaterina?”
“yes- how may i help you, sergeant?”
“what would be your recommendations for restaurants ‘round here?”
evening was nearing and you could feel the emptiness eating at your stomach from the inside. the few days that had passed of your stay in liyue were remarkably unremarkable. half of your time was spent cooped up in northland bank with diplomatic or medical paperwork while the other half was you doing whatever discreet investigation inside the city that you could, up to little avail.
childe was moving forward with his scheming while effectively keeping you completely in the dark from it- well not completely, as he wasn’t the only stubborn one out of the two of you. some intel about his flawless, artful plan had “slipped out” (meaning you pried it out of ekaterina) and come to your knowledge- for example, today he’d be going out to meet with the traveler and paimon for another meeting with one of his… contacts, he called it. you just didn’t know where.
luckily your source of discovering that had just walked through the door.
“welcome, friend of childe! and congratulations on the first day of your illustrious career with the fatui.” ekaterina greets formally and you’re too late to stop yourself from visibly cringing.
“i have no intention of joining the fatui.” the traveler says curtly.
“you sound remarkably sure of yourself… remember, we are mere mortals- our ideas are fluid like water. only the tsaritsa truly has a will as solid as permafrost.”
you huff at the receptionist’s straightforwardness.
“i’m sure we can maintain.. beneficial connections without anyone signing away their names. why don’t we keep to the matter of this visit?” with a slightly forced business smile, you try to ease the traveler’s stone-like expression. thought, if you were in her shoes you believe you’d react much the same.
and you would sure as hell never recommend for someone to join the fatui.
“hm, yes, back to the matter at hand- childe tells me that he has upheld his end of your agreement.”
“what agreement? ..oh, the thing about him helping us find a guy?” paimon inquires.
“correct. childe promised he would find someone to break the stalemate. and harbingers do not break their promises lightly.”
this time you succeed in internalizing your reaction to the comment- from your personal experience, childe did not exactly fit that concept. but there was no time for dwelling on that now.
“ah, where is that guy anyway?”
“childe is currently at liuli pavilion.”
bingo.
“liuli pavilion?” you ask.
“oh, oh! paimon knows this one!” paimon exclaims, proceeding to give an insight of the rival cooking styles of liyue and you almost admire how dedicated she is to liking food so… academically. you’re half zoning out at their conversation when your stomach traitorously growls for all ears to hear.
“hey, y/n, why don’t you join us? you’re a friend of childe’s too afterall!” the floating guide propositions naively.
“ah err… i-i wouldn’t describe it like that, plus, i wasn’t invited to this meeting. i’d hate to intrude.” you try to wave it off. while this could be your current best chance at receiving more context on their investigation, you’d rather not do it where childe would catch onto you.
“well it won’t hurt to ask him! c’mon, at least walk with us, you’ll have to find a place to eat anyway.” paimon drags you by the sleeve out of northland bank, along with the traveler, with unexpected strength in her grasp.
the streets are bustling with people, walking back and forth as they also step out to guarantee themselves some dinner. the crowd covers the sight of liuli pavilion’s entrance and it’s not until you’ve actually arrived that childe sees you.
he looks no less than befuddled.
“aha, y-you’ve made it…” he laughs awkwardly, clearly not expecting the current situation to ever occur. “care to explain the plus one?”
“they’re just that! they were also looking for a place to eat so we invited them to join us.” paimon contextualizes, oblivious to the silent glare battle taking place between the two of you.
“w-well anyhow-“ childe effectively retreats from the as promised, i’ve found someone who can help you. someone who can solve the mystery of why the liyue qixing would hide the geo archon’s vessel.”
“so.. where is he? in liuli pavilion?”
“he certainly is. come, i’ll… introduce you.” he intends to sound cheerful but the last part of his sentence comes out the smidgen most strained as his eyes flicker to you momentarily.
“i took the liberty of setting up a business dinner, as per liyue custom.”
the traveler and paimon walk ahead and get distracted with the warm welcome of the restaurant’s staff while you and childe try not to jump to an argument then and there.
“trust me, i resisted this impromptu invite as much as i could.” you mutter, preferring to look at the surroundings rather than the harbinger beside you.
“good, because you won’t be joining anyway.” he replies coldly as he starts walking inside ahead of you.
“at least let me see the damn restaurant first, maybe i won’t join your table but that doesn’t mean i won’t eat there.”
“how will i know you’re not listening in on our busine-“
“childe? y/n? c’mon, let’s get to our table!” paimon calls out from further into the pavilion.
as you round to the reserved table, you see a brown-haired man in refined amber clothing seated at the far end of it, tea in hand. somehow you think you’ve seen him before but only out in the streets, perhaps at third-round knockout listening to the storyteller at the front tables.
“yes yes, i’m here.” childe steps up, half-sheepish at his late arrival. “unfortunately, y/n won’t be joining us as they have other matters to attend to.” he says like you’re not standing right beside him.
“really? but y/n didn’t say anything, plus, they seemed like they were awfully hungry-“
“forgive the intrusion but, childe, might this be the same y/n you’ve mentioned before?”
the man at the table joins in and childe looks like he’s promptly died on the spot. you, however, look elated at the revelation.
so elated that you don’t see the flush of red that plagues childe’s face and ears.
“why yes, i might just be.” the grin on your face seems only friendly to the other three and only the harbinger feels it’s real sting of triumph.
“then, please, let us all eat together.”
you all waste no more time to do so, childe sits on the man’s right, you sit beside him while the traveler and paimon mirror you on the other side- well, paimon at least floats on top of the chair.
“allow me to introduce mr. zhongli, consultant to an organization known as wansheng… and a trusted associate of the fatui.”
“wansheng?” the traveler asks.
“indeed.” the redhead answers. “wansheng’s line of work can be… sensitive at times. let’s just say they understand when discretion is needed. and we, the fatui, have always been glad to do business with friends who walk in the shadows.”
“w-walk in the shadows..?” paimon shivers.
“it is an honor to meet you. i have heard tell of you from mondstat.” zhongli turns to you. “you as well, doctor, i have been meaning to arrange for us to meet ever since hearing word of you from childe.”
you’re pleasantly surprised by him calling you doctor for a moment, as no one has ever really referred to you in such a respectful manner. sure, childe and others have called you “doc” playfully but never fully doctor.
and then you remember who the title is usually reserved for.
“discretion… shadows… ah! is wansheng some kind of business involving… ‘dealing’ with people?” paimon panics.
“indeed. it is as you have guessed.”
“ahh!!” she screams.
“don’t worry, wansheng is a funeral parlor.” you assure her amusedly and paimon’s fear shifts to confusion.
zhongli cluelessly nods in affirmation. “the wansheng funeral parlor organizes burials. we ensure that those who pass on do so in peace.”
“e-eh?”
you hear childe laugh warmly from beside you, the warmest you’ve heard from him in years. “did you think he was some sort of hired killer? the fatui calls many such people friends, but the wansheng funeral parlor does not dabble in such business… well, ostensibly.”
“ostensibly?” you question.
“well, they are still- ah, i shouldn’t say too much. in any case, i brought you to meet mr. zhongli because…”
“because i can bring you to see rex lapis’ vessel.” the consultant follows up plainly.
“what?!” exclaims paimon.
“ha, don’t be so surprised. sure, the geo archon’s body has been squirreled away by order of the tianquan ningguang… but first, let’s hear what mr. zhongli has to say, shall we?”
how childe managed to hide such a supposed fatui associate, an insanely useful one at that, from you with all the snooping around you’d been doing is beyond your mortal comprehension. what baffles you even more is his unwavering determination to keep you as far away from the entire operation as possible, going against the order of your involvement that came directly from not only dottore, the very second fatui harbinger, but also the director of all of the fatui himself.
unfortunately you’ll still need to wait until zhongli preaches his tale before you get to strangle childe where he stands.
“rex lapis may be the prime of adepti, but he is ultimately an adeptus. many adepti have left us over the millennia- this is the inexorable trend.”
zhongli turns to the traveler. “the times have changed- you must have felt it too when you were at jueyun karst.” with the travelers confirmation, he continues. “as you have seen, the time of adepti is ending, and the time of mankind is slowly dawning.”
the dinner proceeds with talks of the rite of passing and as the traveler and zhongli become more well acquainted, they all agree to leave liuli pavilion and further discuss their arrangements.
“you can go if you want to, don’t worry about me. i might just have a few more drinks…” childe dismisses the two travelers.
“and me also. somebody needs to teach a certain other someone how to use chopsticks if we’re to stay in liyue for a good while.” you imply half-jokingly, grateful that the two get on their way quick so you can give the redhead beside you an exclusive earful.
as you feel your cheeks start to warm with the burn of the alcohol, you down decisively the last one of your drinks for the night and slam the cup on the table with vigor.
“am i some sort of joke to you?”
childe almost chokes on his own beverage at the suddenness. “e-excuse me?”
“actually no, let me rephrase that- do you think it’s funny to play around with the job i’ve been assigned here and purposefully leave me to wander around streets i don’t know like a bumbling idiot while you keep contacts like mr.fucking-rex-lapis-historian under your belt?” you practically bark.
“y/n, please, i think you might’ve drank too mu-“
“answer the question or so help me celestia, i will leave this restaurant with my hands as red as that stupid scarf of yours.”
the harbinger huffs. “alright alright! no i don’t think it’s funny to do… all of what you said. but i don’t think that’s fair- this is my mission and it’s been running smoothly since before you even got here. at least i thought it was until they decided to send more manpower with zero forewarning, do you know how insulting that is?”
“how is it insulting to have backup in case something goes wrong? that’s all i’m here for- to help, and ideally help with the investigation. but i can’t do that if i don’t know where the hell jueyun karst is, much less where else to go to look for clues.”
childe only sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingertips. “you’re right… i shouldn’t alienate you from what’s your assignment too. but let me keep up with my plan for now and if something goes awry, i’ll call you. i’ll fill you in on it tomorrow morning.”
you nod firmly- easier than you thought it’d be.
“now will you please teach me how to use these damned sticks?”
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taglist ; @kentply
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thynisia-pac-readings · 8 months
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This post is part of a Pick-a-number aesthetic reading. To choose your group, please check this post.
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Group 1
Very youthful, very light. Colours are more in the lighter tones, especially in yellow, green, white, purple. You could prefer long hair and flowing garments. There's a sense of not overthinking things, making life simple and staying youthful and happy. Your core aesthetic values community life, compassion for yourself and others, and a simple lifestyle. Most of all, you believe that you are enough and don't need anything else. Your aesthetic core could be cottagecore or anything that fits the description above.
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Group 2
Wow. Group 2, you're very driven. Your aesthetic revolves around being successful and determined. Could be businesscore or something similar. Living in success and luxury, but doing so independently. A self-made person. What comes to my mind is this type of woman/man who wants to re-create herself in that process. Your group doesn't want to use the girlboss term though, it feels like you're more serious than that. You have goals, you have ambitions, and you're not letting anyone or anything stand in your way. Actually, you're convincing yourself that nothing and no one can. It's you first. You have this grand image of yourself that you want to be. I'm getting that not even love is in your plans. You could be avoiding any situation as you want to stay in control of your life, and love feels like you'd lose that complete control. Your aesthetic could look like formal/business look with a feminine touch, luxury brands, luxury accessories, a clean look that is simple but shows success and feminity. No matter your hair type, your skin and body type, you do your best to fit those criteria according to yourself.
Such an intense group for an intense person. You're perfect just the way you are. Wishing you the best!
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Group 3
As I was shuffling the cards, I kept having the feeling that you are a very interesting group of people. I mean, interesting in that you're unapologetically different compared to others and you might not even be aware of how interesting you are. People find you very charming and funny. You give me the same vibes as the girl lead (Hong-jo?) in the kdrama Destined With You. Love her. Even the guys can't help but fall under her charms eventually.
Your aesthetic/vibe is like a shrug of shoulder in the face of life. You just roll with it. Go with the flow. It's like "oh did that just happen? Oh well". Yeah if you had a motto, that'd be "Oh well."
Yeah you're very unique, even in how you dress and do your makeup. You don't fit into standards and you don't try to. You do your own thing. Whether that'd be looking like a goth or a mermaid, lol. You ride your own wind/current. You're very positive, uplifting yet strong. Your light is strong, no matter what your aesthetic looks like. Whether you're dressed like a goth or wearing a pair of angel wings, lol.
You could be wearing red a lot, and you pay a lot of attention to balancing colours and garnements. Feels like people may not see the real you through your appearance, but you actually put a lot of efforts in your aesthetic/appearance so that could disappoint you at times. Sometimes, you wish people would see through to you.
The thing is, people will always see a different aspect of yourself and they will find that version of you charming. You're beautifully unique and different so keep rolling with life without worrying about seeking the acknowledgement/validation of others for who you are.
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Group 4
As I was shuffling, it felt like there was a lot of heaviness and emotional energy in this group. Not in a bad way, it might just be because you're very sensitive and it's easy for you to get overwhelmed emotionally. I'm sending you all my love. ❤️
This is my sensitive, delicate group. You're always cleansing and healing yourself ... And perhaps your surrounding too, though you might not be aware of your doing.
There might be a few males in this group. I have to say that the males are more delicate and the females exhibit more strength than the norm. It's actually showing that this group is more balanced in their masculine and feminine aspects and they're exhibiting both aspects in a healthy way.
This pile is really giving me the vibe of starseeds or crystal children. Or your higher self is from a very very high density. Very sensitive people who are, by nature, healing their surroundings and being an example for others in their own way. I'm also saying this because I sense a lot of wisdom in this group, due to your many past lives. You might actually remember your past lives. You could also have some gifts, perhaps Clair abilities or being able to do astral travelling. Or any kind of gift that helps you make a difference, even if it's nothing spiritual. I.e. your ability to analyse statistics or do coding, you want to use them in projects that will do good.
In your aesthetic/vibe, you tend to look at things from a higher perspective and aim at improving yourself. You might want to change the world.
You may come across as very nurturing and caring, your high sensitivity is not missed either. That is no matter what you wear. I don't actually see any specific type of aesthetic in this pile. You're all so different. Your aesthetic might be more of a perspective/mindset than a look.
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marzipanandminutiae · 9 months
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Reading A Corset, or Marzi Saw A Thing and Has Thoughts
So, yesterday, I went to the MFA to see an exhibit on the history of wedding gowns. I was pleasantly surprised by how nuanced the display and the text proved to be, and the one corset (c. 1839) that they had on display caught my eye:
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Incredibly, it’s not laced shut. Holy Wasp-Waist, Batman. Interestingly, the stiffening is mostly cording with only a few bones here and there, which is not really what people expect from such a dramatically reducing piece.
So what’s going on with this corset? What clues do we have to its use and survival, knowing that extremely tiny waists were the exception and not the norm?
First of all, the placard next to it said “wedding corset.” Since the wedding corset was not a known general clothing category to my mind, that probably comes from family provenance that the original owner wore it at her wedding. And that gives us a couple of pieces of information: this was probably a fairly young woman, and the corset was worn for a special occasion. That is to say, a woman who is likely at the smallest size she would ever be in her life on a day when she particularly wanted to be in line with beauty ideals. This is not an everyday garment – it’s meant for a special occasion where one might be willing to put up with a bit more discomfort to get the fashionable look. even nowadays, we tend to expect brides to not wear their most comfortable clothing to get married in – massive skirts that drag the floor and high heels, as well as Shapeware, remain commonplace
Another salient points about the corset is that it looks PRISTINE. I clocked very little wear on it at all. That implies that it was not worn often, underscoring its role as a special occasion garment that didn’t see daily use. My guess is that this either remained in the bride’s bureau as a formalwear corset after the wedding, or possibly was taken out of circulation altogether for it sentimental value – or impracticality? One way or another, it barely looks worn at all.
So, we have a very tiny corset associated with a formal event that usually happened to young ladies, in near-perfect condition. That, coupled with what we all know of survivorship bias and the tendency for smaller clothes to last precisely because they see less frequent wear, underscores that this type of extreme waist reduction was not necessarily common during the 19th century 
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my18thcenturysource · 6 months
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Planche 1, Cabinet des Modes, May 15th 1786, Bibliothèque Nationale Française.
This plate has a LONG description, and here's a (shortened) rough translation of the description:
We can say it is no longer desirable for women to dress with great adornment (...) and these fashions are no longer made but for ceremonial gatherings, weddings, formal balls, large meals, which take place in very small numbers. This justifies us to not have often representations of these garments (...), nevertheless since they re sometimes worn, we show them in plates 1 and 2. In plate 1 we can clearly see that we no longer wear the big paniers and even in the most adornment, the fashions have been simplified (except, of course, the court clothes, which do not vary much and can be traces to the clothes of our fathers) (...). The woman in Plate 1 wears a blue robe à la Turque. The petticoat is of the same fabric and colour, the sleeves are made of white gros-de-Naples or another white fabric. The trim of the dress is in white crepe in the shape of rosettes, and in the middle of each is bouquet of artificial roses. The skirt of also decorated with white crepe and rosettes similar to the dress. The cuffs attached to the sleeves are made of cut white gauze. The throat is covered with a gauze fichu, tied at the front with a rainbow ribbon bow, she wears white leather gloves, and a fan. The head is covered with a bonnet also tied with a rainbow ribbon and topped with a garland of artificial roses. The ribbon forms a large bow at the back and holds a white crepe veil that falls almost to the waist, and on top of the bonnet rises a set of feathers: two rose, two blue, one white, and one green. The hairstyle has light curls along the entire front of the head, her hair is pulled up at the back in a flat bun, and two large curls on each side fall down her length. Her shoes are blue to match the colour of the dress, and are adorned with rainbow ribbon.
I found many funny things in this description, like that the magazine writers thought in 1786 that this look was simple, the concept of rainbow ribbon (ruban à l'Arc-en-Ciel) that seems to simply be a ribbon in colourful stripes, and the size and complexity of that bonnet. How about you? Please let me know in the comments or reblog tags, what is your favorite part of this outfit, or even if you'd like to reproduce it.
Also, the plate 2, that is a men's outfit, will be posted soon :)
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harvardfineartslib · 1 month
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“In order to tell the truth, you need to invent what might be missing from the archive, to collapse time . . . to formally move things around in a way that reveals something more true than fact.”
Simone Leigh (b. 1967) is an American artist whose work focuses on explorations of community, Black feminism, and the traditions and material culture of the African diaspora. Over the past two decades, Leigh has created artwork that situates questions of Black femme-identified subjectivity at the center of contemporary artistic discourse. Her sculpture, video, installation, and social practice explore ideas of race, beauty, and community in visual and material culture. Leigh often draws her concepts and inspirations from anthropological, historical, and colonial archives that represent stereotypical views of black women through a European lens. She creates new forms incorporating her research on these archives with African aesthetics and Black feminist concepts.
In 2022, Leigh was the first black woman to represent the United States in the Venice Biennale.
Image 1: A large head sculpture that is work-in-progress in her studio
Image 2: Untitled, 2022, stoneware
Image 3: Brick House, 2019, bronze
Image 4: Last Garment, detail, 2022, bronze, steel, metal, filtration water pump, water
Simone Leigh Edited by Eva Respini. Boston : Institute of Contemporary Art/Boston ; New York : DelMonico Books, [2023] HOLLIS number: 99157252441903941
18 notes · View notes