#traditional hairdos

[pallanophblargh]

The annual ballpoint pallanoph in celebration of clinging to this rocky sphere for one more year (despite appearances) was delayed by a few days. Oops! I’m not dead, just growing older.

Art is still hard, but this runs on autopilot sometimes. And sometimes, that’s enough.

[cryptiduni]

ok ok, listen. I am gonna be straight with you. I am not a Patholic nerd and I really like the game. it has one of the most extraordinary stories/lore, plus its gloomy aesthetic is just my shit. but as a local Khalkh Mongolian, I very much dislike the herb bride designs. they have no inspiration from the cultures they are supposed to vaguely resemble, like literally nothing. i am a visual type of person and love it, ADORE it when shit is pretty to look at, it's in my blood. instead they opted for looking like straight-up savage unevolved cartoon cavewomen with skimpy outfits and foliage in their hair for good measure.

they look so out of place here, which you could argue its intentional but cmonnn???

here’s my take on how they could have looked like or at least what kind of things the devs missed out on:

—and their hair should have been braided in many different styles? all three of the major inspirations for the kin doesn’t like loose hair, if we are speaking traditionally. i really like these thin braids:

yeah, i get Orkhon economy is in shambles so no jewelry and colorful clothes but at least cover their boobage?? idk just slap on thin deel + belt and then just rough it up? make decorations out of wood?? and beads out of bones without just dangling them?? just because shit is desperate doesn't mean we gotta lose our dignity too?

edit: This post’s main point is not about restricting the nudity or the creative liberty i am only saying they should have approached this aspect from a different perspective with a native eyes on the IPL development team. It may have came off that way because i used the word boobage huh?

[tanuki-kimono]

[Fujinami] (wisteria waves) furisode designed by Eninaru. This kimono has been used in a photoshoot for The Peppermint Magazine.

The modern styling has the natural flowers in hairdo especially fashionable atm.

The “old Japan” one features a sculpturesque nihongami hairdo called sekireitabo (lit. ”wagtail nape chignon”,  made to mimic a wagtail’s tailfeathers)

[avanii]

Mafic Lava beastie, with a funky hairdo inspired by this photo of cooled basalt lava. I saw it and immediately this creature sprung up in my mind! Painted with acrylic and ecoline inks, took me around 5 hours start to finish.

[chocolategoon420]

Hee hee. My favorite child character ever fr <3

[peaceful-lunacy]

Here's is hairstyle I drew some time ago.

[fefesmakeupservice]

Traditional Chinese Wedding Hairdo

[chinesehanfu]

[Hanfu · 漢服]Chinese Late Warring States period(475–221 BC) Traditional Clothing Hanfu Based On Based On Chu (state)Historical Artifacts

【Historical Artifact Reference】:

Late Warring States period(475–221 BC)：Two conjoined jade dancers unearthed from Jincun, Luoyang,collected by Freer Museum of Art

A similar jade dancer was also unearthed from the tomb of Haihunhou, the richest royal family member in the Han Dynasty, and was one of his treasures.

Warring States period, Eastern Zhou dynasty, 475-221 BCE,jade dancer by Freer Gallery of Art Collection.

Warring States period(475–221 BC)·Silver Head Figurine Bronze Lamp.Unearthed from the Wangcuo Tomb in Zhongshan state during the Warring States Period and collected by the Hebei Provincial Institute of Cultural Relics and Archaeology

The figurine of a man dressed as a woman holds a snake in his hand, and 3 snakes correspond to 3 lamps.

Sword of Goujian/越王勾践剑:

The Sword of Goujian (Chinese: 越王勾践剑; pinyin: Yuèwáng Gōujiàn jiàn) is a tin bronze sword, renowned for its unusual sharpness, intricate design and resistance to tarnish rarely seen in artifacts of similar age. The sword is generally attributed to Goujian, one of the last kings of Yue during the Spring and Autumn period.

In 1965, the sword was found in an ancient tomb in Hubei. It is currently in the possession of the Hubei Provincial Museum.

【Histoty Note】Late Warring States Period·Noble Women Fashion

The attire of noblewomen in the late Warring States period, as reconstructed in this collection, is based on a comprehensive examination of garments and textiles unearthed from the Chu Tomb No. 1 at Mashan, Jiangling, as well as other artifacts from the same period.

During the late Warring States period, both noble men and women favored wearing robes that were connected from top to bottom. These garments were predominantly made of gauze, silk, brocade, and satin, with silk edging. From the Chu Tomb No. 1 at Mashan, there were discoveries of robes entirely embroidered or embroidered fragments. The embroidery technique employed was known as "locked stitches," which gave the patterns a three-dimensional, lively appearance, rich in decoration.

The two reconstructed robes in this collection consist of an inner robe made of plain silk with striped silk edging, and an outer robe made of brocade, embroidered with phoenixes and floral patterns, with embroidered satin edging. Following the structural design of clothing found in the Mashan Chu Tomb, rectangular fabric pieces were inserted at the junction of the main body, sleeves, and lower garment of the robe. Additionally, an overlap was made at the front of the main body and the lower garment to enlarge the internal space for better wrapping around the body curves. Furthermore, the waistline of the lower garment was not horizontal but inclined upward at an angle, allowing the lower hem to naturally overlap, forming an "enter" shape, facilitating movement.

The layered edging of the collars and sleeves of both inner and outer robes creates a sense of rhythm, with the two types of brocade patterns complementing each other, resulting in a harmonious effect. Apart from the robes, a wide brocade belt was worn around the waist, fastened with jade buckle hooks, and adorned with jade pendants, presenting an elegant and noble figure.

The reconstructed hairstyle draws inspiration from artifacts such as the jade dancer from the late Warring States period unearthed at the Marquis of Haihun Tomb in Nanchang, and the jade dancer from the Warring States period unearthed at Jin Village in Luoyang. It features a fan-shaped voluminous hairdo on the crown, with curled hair falling on both sides, and braided hair gathered at the back. The Book of Songs, "Xiao Ya: Duren Shi," vividly depicts the flowing curls of noblewomen during that period. Their images of curly-haired figures in long robes were also depicted in jade artifacts and other relics, becoming emblematic artistic representations.

The maturity and richness of clothing art in the late Warring States period were unparalleled in contemporary world civilizations, far beyond imagination. It witnessed the transition of Chinese civilization into the Middle Ages. The creatively styled garments and intricate fabric patterns from the Warring States period carry the unique essence, mysterious imagination, and ultimate romanticism of that era, serving as an endless source of artistic inspiration.

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Recreation Work by : @裝束复原

Weibo 🔗：https://weibo.com/1656910125/O6cUMBa1j

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[fablepaint]

First off, congratulations on your help with Lackadaisy!✨️✨️✨️

Second, I've been practicing with the Lackadaisy style using nothing but traditional art (paper and colored pencils), and I'm nervous about using digital art for the first time😓

I've been procrastinating with practicing digital art for years, and now I'm ready to get started!✨️✨️✨️

Got any helpful tips or advice for drawing Lackadaisy characters with digital art?🤔

Also, I have ADHD and I'm Autistic so trying new things takes time with me😅

Well the nice thing about ADHD and Autism is when you get into something, you get REALLY into something. So if you are able to build a routine that allows you the freedom to explore the medium you want to jump into, then you'll steamroll ahead. If you're finding it hard to kick off that fixation so you can focus easier, try to pair it up with an existing fixation. Are you into every kind of horse? Okay then, draw an example of every warmblood, coldblood, and hotblood you can think of. Every pony, every donkey, every mule. Find some good photos and go to town. Piggy-backing off my existing fixations is how I can chain together a lot of information that I would otherwise struggle to absorb and recall fully.

As for helpful tips, you're already doing it. I think starting with traditional materials is a good way to build up good art habits without the convenience of infinite colors and the undo button. You'll make quicker decisions and be a little less precious about mistakes. Cuz you have to live with them IRL, so might as well keep going even if the work didn't turn out great. Maybe you'll learn something along the way?

A second tip, more specific to Lackadaisy, is breaking characters down into simpler shapes and seeing if you can build them back up again. Feel free to trace them to turn them into mannequins. Then, knowing the proportions of those mannequins, can you draw them doing other things?

And research. Tracy deep-dives into historical stuff like clothing, hairdos, jobs, jewelry, etc. If you immerse yourself in something you find interesting, you'll see it cropping up in your work occasionally. Look into art deco and art nouveau, two schools of design thought that have a thread running between them that goes solidly through the 1920s. Consider how that design philosophy might get integrated into clothing or furniture.

Other than that, digital specific? There's isn't much, just have fun with what program feels good to use. Don't go too nuts on color (you have a million colors, but a million colors does not a good painting make) and make sure the ergonomics of your digital art situation doesn't hurt you longterm. Take breaks for your hands and stretch. It's more strenuous than traditional. Maybe it's the lack of physical feedback or the way we tend to curl around our devices. Not sure, but I find it more draining than trad work.

[tarninausta]

That is grievous,’ she said. ‘And yet it is good beyond all that I dared hope in the dark days, when it seemed that the House of Eorl was sunk in honour less than any shepherd’s cot.

- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of The King

KHULAN CHULUUN as EOWYN ✧ @tolkienofcolourweek day 4: pride in identity + growing up

[ID: A picspam consisting of 24 images, featuring the mongolian actress Khulan Chuluun as Eowyn.

1: Khulan Chuluun looking over her shoulder. She has dark hair in two braids, brown skin, and is wearing a fur hat and a red jacket. / 2: Golden embroidery / 3: Text reading “Eowyn I am, Eomund’s daughter” on black background / 4: Horses standing on a grassy plain / 5: grassland in the mist / 6: The richly adorned ceiling of a mongolian ger / 7: Khulan Chuluun, facing front / 8: Mountains rising behind grassland / 9: A person in a red outfit and traditional mongolian hairdo / 10: Text on black background, reading “her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on'' / 11: The wings of a bird in flight / 12: A map of Rohan / 13: White lilies / 14: A person in a red gown with an embroidered collar, with dark hair that’s partially braided / 15: Text reading “But am I not of the House of Eorl, a shieldmaiden and not a dry-nurse?” on black background / 16: The mount of the Witch-King of Angmar, as shown in the Peter Jackson movies, in flight / 17: A white horse / 18: A round, red and gold shield / 19: A statue of a mongolian warrior on horseback / 20: A person in a red jacket set with fur standing next to a horse / 21: Grassland in the mist / 22: Text reading “who knows what she spoke in the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night?” / 23: Red flowers / 24: Khulan Chuluun, facing front while her hair is being braided / End ID]

[ask-dmsmp-dirk]

how is your chia pet bushel going?

Well… at first I have to admit I was a little scared of him… but since moving him to my bedroom I’ve been enjoying having some more company around. I’ve named my Bushel ‘Anchovy’ (I tried to stick with the Bushels’ ‘traditional’ naming convention… in hindsight maybe I should have chosen an orange pizza topping…) and have been having a lot of fun giving him new hairdos whenever his leaves start to grow too long and cover his eyes! I’m particularly keen on styling him to resemble myself. I once used him to hold a spare pair of glasses, and then realised I could accessorise him to look like another glorious Dirk statue. Although, the more I look at him the more I think he resembles an allay… I think he’ll fit into my family well. I’m hoping to take down some more Bushels so that I can grow him some siblings, then once they grow up I can have a magnificent army of plants that worship me instead of Siri. Hopefully Anchovy will grow up to be a bit less… strange… than the other Bushels though, luckily he has me to guide him onto the right path AND provide him free entertainment!

[tanuki-kimono]

Hey! Might be a bit of a random one but as a non-binary (but basically male presenting) person married to a Japanese woman we've decided to both wear womens' iro-Uchikake and Shiromuku for our wedding photos. Already did the try-on and initial counseling. I'm not super interested in "passing" as I just wanna look like me — but wondered if you'd seen any womens' wasou-appropriate gender neutral wedding hairstyles in your travels? It's such a specific thing and I'm not having much luck.

Hi and congrats for your soon-to-come wedding pics :)

Tbh, you are not going to have much luck finding any formal wear kimono "neutral" hairstyle. The thing being that traditionally, Japanese hairstyles were SUPER gendered: they could tell age, sex, marital status, sometimes even where you'd come from etc.

The only exception I can think of are children hairstyles, which for long were basically unisex until coming of age ceremonies - but those would not be suitable for a wedding imo ^^;

Agender hairstyle is so definitely not a thing if you're searching for "classical kimono look" appropriate hairdo. Yet, that does not mean you cannot choose any style you like and run away with it!

Most wedding-looks now have brides in modern (=Westernized) fancy hairdo. If you see a "traditional" style (=taka shimada), it will 9 times out of 10 be a wig provided by the kimono rental. Very few undergo the tedious process of having their natural hair styled this way (and less and less hairstylists actually know how to do that):

So, what fancy style would YOU love?

Without knowing you or your hair lenght it's difficult for me to help, but my first thought was a variation of moga's 耳隠しmimikakushi (hairdo covering the ears, often with finger waves). As moga's chose not to follow traditions + as mimikakushi can work on long and shorter hair alike, this "historical" style could work for you?

Also, you might wanna look into any modern kimono stylist/photographer. For example, see Stasia Matsumoto's social accounts, as she's both a kimono and hair stylist.

Congrats again, and TLDR => don't fret too much over "traditional hairstyle": in nowadays bridal kimono world, that doesn't mean much anyway ;)

[anjelicawrites]

The Winner Takes It All

Chapter VI (I, II, III, IV, V)

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x reader

Synopsis: inspired by the Æthelflæd and Erik's storyline in The Last Kingdom. Might be spoilerish if you haven't seen it (go watch it!!!), even though I've just stolen the inspiration and went on with the story my way.

Warnings: Canon compliant violence, Aemond’s brothel experience, rape mentions, marital violence mentions, anxiety, traditional Valyrian marriage ceremony.

A/N: reader is AFAB, they/them pronouns are used (they are called “lady” and “daughter of the North”). The only descriptor is that they have long hair.

A/N 1: this is an AU. Look at me taking the canon story of Westeros and yell “Parkhour!” as I jump out of the window clutching it in my hands.

18+ only, tank you!

You are not part of the negotiation talks, when the Northerner Lords arrive.

From the small window you can see the delegation, you can recognize your husband’s delicate features and you think you’ve seen Cregan Stark among the men.

You don’t know how long it will take for these men to decide your destiny, how hard your husband will be willing to bargain to have you back, if he’d ever wanted to. Because yes, through marriage all the Houses loyal to yours became loyal to him, in reality none of the Lords truly liked him, they pledged to you. If needed, they would have backed his claim for his House to become the ruling one in the North, because of you, not him. On one hand, he needs to show that he's doing everything possible to save you, on the other, by paying the ransom he's condemning the free North to its destruction. You don't envy where he is sitting right now; he's always been stingy but he can't show it to the other Lords, or he'll lose their support, but are those men willing to save you?

Aemond doesn’t visit you, it would be too dangerous, your only companions are the Valyrian woman who’s become a sort of handmaid, and your thoughts, whirring incessantly in your head. What did Aemond mean when he said he had a plan? The foolish idea of him stealing you away on Vhagar again, resurfaces when you are alone. Go away, where to though? Where can a kinslayer and a stolen lady be happy together?

By day two, your handmaid announces to you that the delegation will visit you tomorrow, your worries skyrocketing the moment she gives you the news. It’s not the various Lords you are afraid of, it’s your husband’s keen eyes that scare you, the eerie way he has always been able to read you like an open book. He’ll know, the voice in your head tells you, he’ll know and he’ll make you pay. Fear grips you again as you pace the small length of the cell; what would he do if he knew? Your hands curl into fists, acid bile rising in the back of your throat, unknown anger lightning the pit of your belly: what would you do, if he knew?

Your handmaid pours all her attention in the way she prepares you, how she pulls your hair into a complicated hairdo, how she stiles the black and red dress on your body, showing off how good they are treating you, the meat on your bones since you were taken from the camp. When the men arrive, you are left alone with them. You can feel your husband’s gaze on your skin, weighing you in, checking for flaws, for something he can use against you later, as the other men talk and talk and ruffle their feathers when seeing you wearing Targaryen colors, as if you had any choice. You don’t truly listen to them, their words meaningless if not strengthened by facts.

You are granted five minutes with your husband and you surprise yourself with how angry you are with him, instead of terrorized; you thought you'd be shaking in your boots, but all you can feel is readiness to act upon this anger, to fight him like you would in a sword fight. You've never felt so centered in yourself in years, the fire in your belly strengthening your focus, instead of diminishing it.

"Wife" he says with a quick bow

"Husband" you answer with a curtsy

"I see our enemies treat you well"

"It would be unwise for them not to. I am their bounty after all".

Your husband steps closer, until he's close enough to grab you, if he so wished

"Do you have to wear their colors?"

"I didn't have a choice. My previous dress was already in shambles. Having to fight for my freedom didn't do it any good"

"I don't like your tone, wife, and what you are implying".

Before your captivity, his voice would have warned you of what was to come, now it just tickles the flame of rage in your belly.

"I am implying nothing dear husband, merely stating the truth. I was in dire need of a dress or you would have preferred me being naked?".

His hands close like a vise around your wrist, you wince at the way your bones grind, but you don't stop staring into his eyes.

"You should be quiet, wife. You've already put us in a complicated situation, don't make it any worse"

"Did I? Did I, husband?"

"You didn't fight enough for your freedom or you wouldn't be here".

A bitter laugh escapes your lips

"How can you know? Were you there? Let me remind you where you were: deep in the trap the brothers orchestrated for you. If you hadn't been that adamant at having me with you, we wouldn't be in this situation".

You can see fury distort his features, his hand rising in anger.

"Hit me husband, go ahead and hit me. Explaining to the other Lords why I am bloody and hurt will be more complicated than dealing with the negotiation".

You can see the fight in his eyes, his need to put you in your place and knowing that hitting you now would lose him whatever support the other Lords were giving him.

This fuels you, if his hand weren't still around your wrist, you'd hit him in the head with the bucket, the same way you did your attacker. You feel like yourself, like you were before the marriage, as if the person you used to be is coming back from the dead, with retribution.

"You will pay for your disrespect, wife" he says and to you it has no bite

"As we all do our deeds".

After he leaves you feel the wave of rage subside, your knees folding without your control and you find yourself on the floor, breathless, your mind still incredulous at your own courage, or stupidity. After your show of disrespect, you will be forced to do something, if you were to go back to you people; your husband will never let your talking back slide, he would want to punish you. The thought strokes fear in your heart, but not as much as it used to, when you would be trembling and nauseous, the desire of being freed of him overrides whatever response his abuse taught you. I would kill him, you realize. Given the chance, I would end his miserable life and you feel nothing at the idea. Why should you die, when you can take matters into your own hands and have your revenge? Of the two of you, you deserve to be alive more than he ever will, the miserable piece of shit. You are far more capable of taking care of your House and your people than he ever will and if there’s going to be a free North to command, it deserves a capable queen, rather than a useless king.

The negotiations continue for days. You can see the people coming and going, the servants busying themselves, nothing gives away whether or not either party was successful. Aemond is nowhere to be found; you understand why he can’t risk visiting, you’d do the same if the roles were reversed, still not knowing what his plan his irks you, being kept in the dark about his motives, because you can’t believe he’d go to the length he, supposedly, is ready to go, for any prisoner, then why doing it for you? Because you had slept with him countless times? Because you had not mocked his tears? Because he feels the same pull you do? Your heart doesn't have the courage to hope so, and it would only mean courting danger even more than what you are already doing.

You realize the negotiations are gone downhill when you see your people leaving in a hurry, a black cloud of anger over their collective heads, the Valyrians glaring daggers. What now?

You have your answer when your Valyrian handmaiden arrives in a hurry that same afternoon, a gaggle of other women with her, their hands full of a white and red robe, a strange headdress, and hot water. They don't explain a single thing to you, they sweep you off in a hurry, wash you energetically, force you inside the thick robe and head cloth and then they escort you out of your prison. You can hear the energy buzzing around you, the women talking animatedly, their voices high pitched. You try not to walk, to stop the sea of bodies to ask what is going on but their sheer mass moves you against your will, until you find yourself out in the courtyard full of Valyrians. Are they going to kill you in some strange blood magic ritual? Panic bubbles in your chest, your hands try to push against the shoulders in front of you to no avail, your body is moved by the sheer force of the people around you, until everything stops and the sea of bodies parts. Right in front of you stands Aemond, tall and proud, dressed in garments similar to yours, his face set to stone, only his eye is soft the moment it lands on you. He approaches you with calm steps, his hands betray his nervousness with the way they shake, until he reaches you and bends his long back to kiss your cheeks, you are so shocked you don't feel his warmth seeping through

"Trust me. Follow my lead" he murmurs

"Aemond I don't understand" you answer but he doesn't hear you, the racket from the people around your bodies is too high.

Aemond delicately takes you hand in his, his hold is strong, steady, he tries to transmit you calmness as he walks you towards a man in white robes and an altar. Aemond positions you in front of him as the man tells you to just repeat what he's saying: it's High Valyrian, you have no idea of what you are parroting means, you are compelled when the man orders you twice to repeat after him. When the man grabs your hand to make you cut Aemond to gather his blood in a cup and then Aemond cuts you, the only reason you don't bolt it's that you are far too shocked to do anything, to even feel the blade on your skin. When the cup reaches your lips, you stare at Aemond, too lost to know what to do and he has to curl his hands around yours to put the cup to your lips. You don't want to drink his blood and yours, you are disgusted by the thought but you force yourself when Aemond pushes the cup against your lower lip until you bend your neck back and the liquid flows down your throat. It tastes metallic, it's thick on your tongue and you try not to gag. The bellows from the people around you it's deafening and become even more violent when Aemond kisses you, you are too shocked to respond or lose yourself in his familiar taste, realizing only after the whole ceremony is finished what just happened: you have just married Aemond Targaryen.

You don't eat or drink, your stomach turns into a fist the moment you realize Aemond had married you even though you already have a husband. The roar of the blood in your ears isolates you from the feast around you, your skin feels colder than snow, as if you had no blood flowing through your veins. You can't feel Aemond's gentle touch on your arm and hand, your eyes don't register his worried stare every single time you turn your head towards him. Your attention snaps back the moment you hear King Aegon boast his brother and his sexual prowess and how he'll show it to everyone during the bedding ceremony. You can feel your stomach turning: you don't want to go through it again, you'd rather die than let all these people look while Aemond takes you.

"There will be no bedding ceremony, brother".

Aemond stands up, his voice cold as the bellows die down. You have to crane your neck to stare into his face; there's rage in his one eye, his mouth set in a thin, white line

"Your people deserve to see your conquest, brother".

King Aegon disgusts you, the lascivious way he stares at you, the want you see in his eyes. You don't want him to see you naked and defenseless.

"My people have already seen my conquest, today. Besides, my queen has been through enough turmoil today - Aemond's hand feels like steel on your shoulder - Now, if you all will excuse us".

Aemond helps you on your feet, your hand crushed in his as he starts walking you but he's stopped by his brother.

"You shouldn't deny your king his request" he says, voice low

"I am king here, brother, or have you forgotten our pact?" Aemond answers, cold as ice.

You can feel the palpable tension between them, Aemond stiff by your side, King Aegon still in his path. He reminds you of your husband in his cruelty and the way he expects the world to bow to him.

The standoff seems to last hours, when it's actually seconds, before King Aegon claps his hand on Aemond's shoulder and boasts for his brother again, the whole room hollering for your new husband.

You keep your head high, one hand in Aemond's, the other curled around the thick cotton of the robe as you try to walk on wooden legs, the enormity of all has just happened drowning on you, the ramifications of what Aemond has just done, what all of this means for the war.

The bridal procession follows you and stops in front of a huge wooden door; you know the people who used to live in these rooms, in your heart you mourn them, your stomach turning at the idea of having to live here now.

With a sigh Aemond closes and locks the door. He stands there to look at you retiring to the farthest window to glare at him; he wishes he had the chance to talk to you before the ceremony, he can only imagine how scary all of this must feel for you. He wants to crush you in his arms until you feel safer but your eyes tell him that trying to move closer to you would have a worse effect.

“Do you have the slightest idea of what you have done? I thought you cared just a little, you are like all of them instead! Do you think this would change anything? Do you truly believe that by marrying me you would gain support from the Houses loyal to mine?” you scream

“It saved you from being raped by every single man in this castle” he answers calmly

“What?”

“You said it yourself days ago. My brother wouldn’t have cared about your safety the moment you lost your value. He had told me his plan, had the Northerner not paid the ransom. I had hoped your husband would have caved, I would have come for you after having killed him on the battlefield, but he didn’t, he was adamant in having you back for a ridiculous soum. Will this create a fracture in your people’s army? That wasn’t my main goal, keeping my promise was”.

The barrage of information hits you violently, air escapes your lungs as you fold into yourself to stop your stomach from turning even more than it already has. You shot your hand out to stop Aemond from advancing, you can’t bear being touched right now.

“Didn’t he truly fight for me at all?”.

You always knew your husband didn’t really care for you, you had hoped he would find in himself to try to do the right thing. He is undeserving of your tears and still you shed them.

“The other Lords weren’t happy. They tried to seriously negotiate but he was adamant. One in particular, big and dangerous, he was glaring daggers at him”

“Cregan. That was Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell. He is the other pretender to the title of King in the North. Had I married him, he would have stood chances against my husband to fight for the title”

“He was especially nasty, truly a difficult bargainer. If he were the head of the delegation, you wouldn’t be here”.

Another bout of fresh tears flows down your cheeks. Both men had pursued you, your father couldn’t choose and turned to you for the last word on the matter. Blinded as you were by your husband’s beauty, you picked him, the worst decision of your entire life.

You stay huddled on the floor, incapable of stopping the tears from falling, Aemond stares at you helplessly; he had thought you’d be relieved at not having to go back to your husband, you were terrorized by the thought, why the tears? He sits against the door, long legs bent to support his arms, hands clenching and unclenching.

"You know that this marriage is not legal, don’t you? That the Houses loyal to mine are not going to turn and help you conquest our home".

Your words hurt him. After telling you that he didn't marry you for political reasons, you still believe that.

"All the lands we conquered now belong to New Valyria. We are the law, therefore we decide what is legal and what's not. We have decided you are our subject and we have dissolved your marriage. As far as we are concerned, you are free to marry whomever you desire".

He tries to play it cool, to mask his nervousness, his anger and pain. After the countless days spent into one another's arms, after this weird pull between you two, how can you believe…

"That still doesn't apply to the lands you haven't conquered - your cool voice stops his rambling thoughts - and how can you be so sure you will be able to conquer us?"

"We have two dragons and a far bigger army"

"Not as big as you wished, without my ransom"

"Still big enough to crush yours, Daughter of the North".

He stands and you do the same, hurriedly, your eyes darting around to find a suitable weapon. You have had to live with an abusive husband, you will not let Aemond hurt you as well.

"I am not going to hit you - he says, hands spread in front of himself - nor will I force myself upon you. I shall sleep on the settee, I just need to remove my robes".

You feel bad for thinking he would abuse you. You are angry at him and not sure he saved you from rape out of the goodness of his heart, but he has never been violent towards you. Even when he kidnapped you, he hadn't manhandled you any more than he had needed. It doesn't help that you still feel that unknown buzz of energy flowing between you two, a part of you stupid enough to still want him to join you on the bed.

With shaky hands you remove the headdress and delicately put it on the oak table next to you. You head towards the bath chambers, purposely not staring at Aemond, to change into the soft looking nightdress left for you.

Slowly you peel the robes away from your body, they are so loose you don't need the help of a handmaid. With gentle touches you fold everything, the material feels old under your fingers and you wonder if it's a relic from Old Valyria. The nightdress is warm, having sat by the fire, you imagine since the wedding feast had started. A thick dressing gown lies folded on a stool, you grab it to wear it, not because you are cold, but because the night dress is sheer and you don't want Aemond to look at your naked body, even though he has done so countless times. When you return to the bed chamber, you notice he's already snuffed out most of the candles, leaving only one next to the settee and a candlestick near the bed. In the penumbra you see he's lying down, huddled under thick blankets; if you weren't so mad at him, you would have laughed, the night is not so cold and winter is yet to come. You notice he's on his side, facing the bed, his eye patch still on; he's never removed it when bedding you and you wonder if he's still wearing it for you, to hide whatever monstrosity lies beneath it. Quickly you slither under the covers and remove the dressing gown, you are already sweating by looking at the pile of covers you are supposed to sleep under, southerners! A second before snuffing out the candles, you stare at him and notice his good eye is closed, perhaps he is asleep. There are so many things you want to tell him you don't even know where to start from. With a huff you lie on your back, eyes fixated on the wooden ceiling, hoping for sleep to come.

You wake up in the morning, surprised you have slept at all. With a startle you turn around and notice the settee is empty, the covers scattered on the bed; where is Aemond? He exits the bath chambers, fully dressed in his leather garb. His stern expression softens when he sees that you are awake, hair tousled and eyes puffed by sleep.

“Good morning ābrazȳrys”

“Good morning Aemond”.

You want to ask him what that means, unfortunately the woman you now consider your handmaiden knocks and enters, her hands full of a dress you’ve never seen.

“I shall leave you jorrāelagon ābrazȳrys” he says with a curt bow.

You see the stern face of your handmaiden being illuminated by a soft smile Aemond can’t see, probably he’s said something nice to you.

You don’t want to start this day, you wish you could just burrow under the covers, alas you have to face what your new life brings you and you want the servants to have all the time to clean the room. You have always had the utmost respect for the people working for you, always trying to make their lives easier; you wonder what happened to the servants of the House who used to live here: did they manage to flee or were slaughtered? You’ve only seen Valyrians since your arrival.

As you soak in the bath and the handmaiden washes your hair, you can hear the servants starting to work in the bedroom; you are glad that there’s no need to exhibit your bedsheet, since you have married a second son, had already been married and are definitely not a virgin anymore. You hated that, with your husband, both the bedding ceremony and the exhibition of the marital bed sheets happened, making you feel violated to your core.

It's when your handmaiden sits you in front of a mirror to style your hair, that the conversation between brothers last night resurfaces: it cannot mean what you suspect it does. You clamp your hands together and force yourself not to ask your handmaiden a single thing; Old Gods protect you, if the Valyrians win this war, you might truly become Queen in the North.

Since you are not a prisoner anymore, you are free to wander around the occupied castle. You remember coming here years ago, following your father to learn politics and create contacts with the various Houses, now you feel like a stranger, like you've invaded this place. Come the night, your incessant wandering hasn't calmed you, you feel wired up, nervous energy coursing through your body, to the point that you can't eat, preferring to retire to the bed chamber.

You are sitting on one of the windows, huddled in the dressing gown more as a form of consolation than actual need, there’s a fire burning in the hearth and the walls are thick. You eye Aemond coldly as he enters your chambers; he looks tired, his lonely eye red with fatigue, he still bows to you, the small smile on his face freezes as soon as he notices your cold expression.

“How was your day, husband? Or shall I call you King in the North? - you say coolly, effectively stopping him in his tracks - I didn’t really put the pieces together yesterday. Are you still maintaining that you helped without thinking of the political repercussions? I wonder if there’s still something you didn’t tell me, dear husband” you spat, bile rising in your throat.

Aemond eyes you, his lips curled in a thin, angry line. He wished he had the chance to talk to you, to explain his reasons; he understands why you are now weary of him and all of his actions.

“That I would reign in the North after its conquest is inevitable. Me marrying into a northerner family is the direct consequence of that, as it is any elder daughter that I will have marrying my nephew Jahaerys to reunite the Kingdom. All of this was decided before our meeting. It sure helps that yours is one of the biggest Houses of the North, but I the only reason I married you was to save you”

“Saving your reputation with your future subjects has nothing to do with it, right?”

“It is surely one of the reasons I used to convince Aegon. Your people are fierce, we will not need any more animosity in the future, than what we already have - he hums for a second, finding the right words - I wish I could have talked to you before the ceremony. I know how all of this looks, but your safety was on the forefront of my mind, nothing else was”

“How can you expect me to believe you?”.

Your heart hurts, torn between trusting his words and being wary of his true reasons. When you married your husband you had followed your heart and it led you to miserable years of abuse and tears, what if this will end the same way?

“I don’t. I hope that my actions will lead you to trust me again”.

You stand in front of one another, eyes locked and you feel the exact same way you did when he deposited you in your cell, the attraction towards him unmistakable as was the mistrust.

For a moment Aemond looks like he’s going to say something else, you can see the cogs in his head turning until a decision is made

“I shall sleep again on the settee, ābrazȳrys - he says tiredly and you have the feeling that this is not what he wanted to say - if you’ll excuse me” he adds, heading for the bath chambers.

Once he is alone, Aemond has to grab the metal structure of the hand basin, disturbing the pitcher of water right next to it. He feels like he’s going to throw up and he can’t show you this weak spot, the same way he can’t tell you why the idea of rape disgusts him to his core. He had almost told you, after the marriage, what he hadn't even his beloved mother, what happened during his thirteenth name day; he can’t confess it or you’ll judge him weak and the whole story will sound like a lame excuse: men don’t get raped, period, if he truly didn’t want to lie with the whore, he should have fought harder, anything else is the justification of a loser.

His fingers curl around the metal until they hurt and his stomach is, somehow, settled, so that he can splash cold water on his face, until the memories recede again, like a nightmare.

He doesn’t want to chain you to an unhappy marriage, he thinks, as soon as he feels more like himself, he doesn’t want you to live the same way his mother had, but Aegon left him with no other option but taking you as his, the only way he had to save you.

The Gods truly damned him, hadn't they? No one is more hated than the Kinslayer and he is one, now he is getting his comeuppance for everything he has done to keep his family safe. He had to do what he did, Aegon and him had no other choice, why is he the only one being punished?

Once he’s calmed himself, he exits the bath chamber to a mostly dark room, only the tall candle on the table near the settee is burning; thanks to the small light he can make out your form under the covers and the way you have moved most of them on the side, this makes him smile briefly, before his gloomy thoughts win over in his mind again.

Everythig taglist: @hightowhxre

Aemond taglist: @phantoms-main-blog @fan-goddess

[ancientrome]

Marble funerary altar of Cominia Tyche. Roman ca. 90–100 CE. x

This woman's name is known from the inscription below the portrait which reads: "To the spirits of the dead. To the most saintly Cominia Tyche, his most chaste and loving wife, [from] Lucius Annius Festus. [She] died at the age of twenty-seven years, eleven months, twenty-eight days. Also for himself and for his descendants." This cippus, or grave altar, is known to have been in a house near the Roman forum in the sixteenth century. It entered the collection of Cardinal Francesco Barberini during the seventeenth century. The jug and patera (libation dish) on the monument's sides allude to the common practice in antiquity of pouring liquids as an act of commemoration, in this instance recalling the modern tradition of placing flowers at the graveside.

Apart from the arresting portrait with Cominia's massive hairdo of a late Flavian or early Trajanic style, the funerary altar is remarkable for the details that the inscriptions provides about her age and character, and sense of loss expressed by her husband. In giving her exact age at death in terms of months and days as well as years, it implies that her date of birth had been recorded and was known to her grieving husband.

[crownedtargaryen]

RIBS : Aemond x Lucerys x Reader Ch. 2 - Tension

A/N: There will be a LOT of Lucerys romance in this before Aemond and Y/N’s

TW: THIS STORY WILL INCLUDE INCEST, SEXUAL CONTENT, ANGST, ABUSIVE TOPICS, EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION, POST PARTUM.

NOTES ARE APPRECIATED! (SHARES, LIKES, COMMENTS)

Word Count: 2.3k

Pronouns: She/Her

MASTERLIST ( < this has more parts that can be found here!)

Chapter Two

Tension

I sat comfortably in front of the mirror as my caretaker tied my corset around my waist, the gray colors of my home scattered along my dress. A small smile came to my face as the thoughts of my small adventure last night filled my head.

"What are you so happy for, Princess?" She spoke, making me hum in delight. "Oh dear, did you do something you should not have? I know that expression." She laughs softly, fixing my hair as I melt on the inside.

"Oh, it's nothing. I made a friend is all, they're quite the delight," I reply, seeing her brows raise in the mirror in front of us as she looks to me. "I'm sure they shall show to the feast, maybe I'll be granted a dance."

My caretaker thinks of her next words carefully before speaking up, putting the last touches on my outfit and hairdo. "I wouldn't grow too attached to anyone, your grace," she advises gently, moving in front of me to fix the hairs in the front of my face. "You know you've already bled, it's any day now that you will be married. You have two suitors rested in the castle. Don't go stumbling over your heels for someone new simply because you have three other sisters they may choose." 

Her words lingered in the air for a moment before I sighed. Lucerys and Aemond I had no romantic intention with. Lucerys seemed too hesitant on every word around me, and I couldn't bring myself to look at Aemond for longer than a minute. I couldn't imagine myself being bedded with one of them, and I didn't want to be. Lucerys was a delightful boy, even if we shared the same age. He had a childishness to him that healed something inside of me, and I liked that.

"Are you ready?" She spoke, snapping me out of my trance of thoughts. I looked in the mirror, turning side to side to look at myself. 

"You never fail to make me beautiful, Aiana. Thank you, sincerely," I compliment, seeing her flush and smile with great pride. "Now, run along and have some fun. Alright? I'll see you after."

I watch the servant run off with a giddy laugh, an overwhelmed huff escaping me. This feast could either go swimmingly, or terribly wrong. I prayed for the positive option, but nothing good came of Storm's End. Ever.

Slowly, I step from my quarters and make my way to the party. Drunken laughter fills my ears; music blaring from the musicians. I grumble softly, not craving to participate in this tradition. I preferred when it was quiet, the noises becoming overwhelming. No one visited, so why now? Just because they could? A letter would've sufficed.

My eyes scanned the room of dancing drunkards, brows furrowing in frustration. Where was he? 

"Looking for someone?" A deep and dark voice said behind me, making me turn swiftly. My eyes settled on the man who towered above me, sipping wine from his glass. 

"Prince Aemond," I choked out in surprise, curtsying. He chuckled to himself, leaning against the near wall. "No sir, I merely was inspecting the crowd. Are you?" I stand up straight, trying to soothe the stiffness in my muscles.

"Funny, you were just who I was looking for," his words were dreadful, drawn out with distaste. Like a snake. A dragon. "How did you rest, Princess?" Aemond moves his white hair from his face, it sticking out like a sore thumb among the browns and blacks around us. I stared silently before catching his words, snapping out of my trance.

"I slept well, no dreams ailed me my Prince," I said carefully, making sure I had no slip-ups. This man had more power in my own kingdom than I did; I had to be careful. My father would have me killed if I was to hurt his reputation amongst those of the Iron Throne. "Why do you ask? I hope the storm hadn't kept you up."

Aemond seemed unamused by my words, humming, and taking another sip from his glass. He changed the topic, which caught my attention. "Your sister, Ellyn," he said slowly, making sure I drunk her name off his lips. "She's a delightful woman, is she not?"

I felt sick, why was he bringing her up? I swallowed hard, nodding slowly as I brought myself to respond. "Yes sir, she is a kind soul. She is up in line to be wed," I threw in, making sure his sights were set far off from me when romance comes around. But my comment only made him chuckle, his uncovered brow raising curiously. 

"Aren't you an option as well? I'd like to know all my options for a bride," he slyly says, making my stomach churn. "You're a beautiful maiden yourself, Princess. Our children would be beautiful, don't you think?" He moved his hand and stroked my loose hair in the front, making me shiver in discomfort. I move from his touch, which seems to surprise him. But, he smiles.

He likes this.

"What of Lucerys? He's to wed one of us as well," I blurt out, making his smile disappear almost immediately. "I have no interest in being either yours or his bride, Prince. Now if you excuse me, I must tend to my guests." I stepped back with a shaky breath, turning around, and moving my foot to take a step. But, I stopped.

"And, Prince Aemond," I add, looking over my shoulder at him. He tilts his head slowly. "Dragons don't mix well with a storm. We both know who falls."

And with that, I moved into the crowd, hearing his shocked chuckle behind me. Anxiety rises in my chest, my breath hastening. Where is Lucerys? Why hadn't I seen him once? Stupid Aemond, why did he have to distract me. I looked around frantically, asking the patrons if they'd seen him. No one says anything of use. I sigh, and look around once more, scanning the crowd I've now burrowed myself in. Then, I feel a wetness on my gown.

My eyes snap open, looking in front of me and opening my mouth to yell at them, but my gaze settles on a shocked Lucerys.

"Princess I-" he starts, but I cut him off.

"Lucerys!" I yell in excitement, smiling beams his way. He steps back, a bit, surprised by the gesture. "I was looking everywhere for you!" I look at his hands, two glasses in them, one full of wine and the other now missing most of the red beverage, since it's soaked into my clothing. I realized what had happened and sighed heavily. "Here, come." I grab the half empty glass and pull him out of the crowd and sneak into my quarters, swiftly, attempting to go unseen.

"Princess (Y/N), we have got to stop meeting like this," he whispers, laughing softly, which elicited a laugh from me as well. "Here, let me help." I watch as he helps me wipe off the wine quickly, trying to drag out any stains. Simple to say, we were quite unsuccessful. Smearing the wine deeper into the cloth. "I apologize once more, this is not a good second impression. I hit you with a door, now you're drenched in the wine I got for you." 

I looked at him softly, holding his hand to my racing heart, where he was trying to clean the wine off me. "It's never beaten so fast, Lucerys. Being with you is a thrill, do not worry yourself my Prince." I spoke with a gentle tone I had never spoken in before, it caught me off guard. He looks at his hand, then my face with a surprised gaze, swallowing hard. 

"Princess, I'm not sure what to say." He chokes out, cheeks pink. I had forgotten he was a teenage boy, his hands near my breast. I moved his hand away, pretending to not notice the tension that rested between us from the action. "I'm flattered, but shouldn't we return to the party? I feel it would look bad on me if I'm not there for the second half. Aemond will notice." 

Hearing Aemond's name sent an ache in my stomach. I felt like I was going to regurgitate the food I hadn't even eaten yet. "What's Aemond's deal anyways? Why is he here?" I murmur, Lucerys looking at me with thought. 

"His brother, my uncle, had taken my mother's rightful place on the Iron Throne," he says suddenly, my gaze snapping at him with surprise. "Aegon is a selfish and greedy bastard. A man who uses women for his own benefit, someone who is a sickly ruler. I wish nothing but negativities upon him." He spits his words with anger; I never thought that a soft and gentle face could get so upset. I don't like it. "He's here to host his war plans in Storm's End, and is using women as a prize. Knowing him, he'll give the woman he marries to Aegon as a breeding trophy." My heart drops at the words, inhaling sharply. 

"That's my sister you speak of. Or me, have you considered I too am an option in this?" I snap defensively, seeing him look away weakly. I almost felt guilty.

"I'm aware, I was merely informing is all. I wish to prevent that from happening. If I win this battle of wits, one of your sisters will wed me," he spoke with a saddened tone, like he hadn't craved to marry. My anger boiled down and I felt a sense of sympathy for him. 

"What of me?" I softly say under my breath, his eyes falling on me once more.

"What of you?" He repeats, furrowing his brows into a confused gaze. 

"Forget what I spoke of, we cannot stall the festivities any longer," I interrupt, changing the subject swiftly. I shouldn't set myself up for marriage with a man I know nothing of, a man I hold no love for. Lucerys looks at the stain in which I had lost memory of. It was bright red, a deep stain on my cloudy gray dress. 

"Here," he strips himself of the overcoat he wears, leaving himself in a tight black top that tucks comfortably into his pants, slipping the article onto me and buttoning it. "Not the most stylish choice, but it will spare a lecture to you." He takes my hand, leading me out of the room with our wine glasses alongside us.

The music settles back into my ears, a new song I hadn't heard before. It was upbeat, a magical tune that comforted me. The people of Storm's End seemed confused as well by the new tune. But, to my right, my Velaryon friend perked at the sound. 

"You know this tune?" I whisper, his eyes looking at me excitedly. 

"We had played it at my grandfather's last dinner," he says with a gloss of remembrance in his eyes. I smile and turn to him, feeling the entire room's gaze fall upon me. I reach my hand for his glass and set it down with mine. 

"May we dance then?" I ask softly, his smile growing wider as he takes my other hand. 

"It would be my pleasure." 

And so we danced. We danced like no one else could see us, arm in arm and hand in hand. We circled each other, pressed so close it was almost scandalous, our feet not missing a single step, and without thinking we had somehow become in sync. Our movements rolling off each other, our hearts and breaths moving at the same speed and timing, our eyes never locking off each other as we laughed and smiled. The world melted around us; no one existed but us.

This was what true connection was.

As the song closed to an end, we stopped in front of each other, labored breaths on each other's skin as we stared and let the silence of the room settle in on us; no one said a word.

Then, it erupted into drunken cheers as the music changed. We couldn't take our eyes off each other, breathing heavily and smiling like fools. I look around, hearing people chat about our dance all around. How we seemed to move as one; how beautiful it was. But then I see Aemond, his eyes locked directly onto me with an unreadable expression. My heart sinks and the excitement I had previously felt melted around me. I needed to get this over with as soon as possible.

I rush up to the table where my father is sat with my sisters, dragging Lucerys along with me. He looks at us without a word, but doesn't seem pleased himself. I had missed the feast itself while getting ready, but my father never minded it. It also prevented me from being seen by those who wished to wed me. I fix myself a plate as my sisters look at me in silence; Ellyn rising from her seat with a look I also cannot place. 

She walks to Aemond, my eyes follow her, and I watch her say something as he looks at me, seeming displeased by her voice. 

"Your grace, I'm headed to bed. I do not feel well," I whisper to Lucerys, who has a concerned look on him, my heart racing. 

"Please take it easy then," he says with a saddened tone, looking at me longingly. 

"You may come visit me tonight, for I do not wish to be near your blood," I say softly, his eyes looking to Aemond who is now distracted by Ellyn. He nods as I walk to my father, kiss his cheek, bidding him a goodnight. I wished to be alone for a while.

At least, I thought I'd be alone.

[ancientorigins]

Roman Catholic priests had seriously quirky hairstyle rules, only abolished in 1972!

Dating back to the early centuries of Christianity, the tonsure hairstyle was a symbol of spiritual devotion and humility within monastic communities. Monks would shave the crown of their heads, symbolizing their readiness to cast aside worldly vanity and embrace humility before God.

Over the centuries, the tonsure hairstyle underwent adaptations and controversies within different religious orders. From the Pauline tonsure of the Eastern Orthodox Church to the Celtic tonsure, which sparked debates and division, the world of tonsure hairstyles has been a battleground of religious cultural expression.