#Tunica Dress

[paulyenvol6]

Byka Atroksia (Chapter 6)

Contains: detailed smut, oral (f & m receiving), unprotected sex, incest, body image issues, choking, gagging, praising, a little degrading, dom Daemon, sub reader, angst

Wordcount: ~3.37k

Masterlist of this story

He didn’t waste another second and kissed you aggressively. You both moaned against each other’s mouths and his hands ran over your body, searching for every inch of skin you offered him. In the meantime he pushed you to the table and blindly pushed a chair aside so that you could take a seat on the table.

His hands wrapped around your body and fumbled at the cording of your dress in your back to get the annoying fabric out of the way while your shaking hands tried to get his shirt off. Daemon’s hands were quick, demanding and unhesitatingly. In a matter of seconds he had pulled your dress down and you got up from the table so he could take it off completely. He threw it on the floor next to you without caring about where it landed and then took his tunica off.

You felt the need to touch his strong chest and ran your hands over his skin. Daemon closed his eyes at the feeling of your warmth while kissing and touching your chest. His fingers toyed with your nipple while his mouth took care of the other and you knew that this was what heaven must feel like. Then Daemon’s mouth quickly traveled up your body again until it was pressed against your jaw.

"Get down on your knees.", he growled. Even though you weren’t sure what exactly your uncle wanted you to do you obeyed him and stood up from the table. He guided you down and your knees hit the hard ground. You could see him watch you while he quickly tucked down his trousers and then there was his cock that stood hardened against his stomach. You looked up to him and Daemon wrapped his hand around his cock.

"Open your mouth, riña (girl).", he whispered and you parted your lips. You had your eyes on him while he slowly shoved his cock into your mouth. You hadn’t expected it to feel so soft and you could feel its weight on your tongue. You closed your lips around him and tried to breathe through your nose because right now there wasn’t a lot of air entering your lungs through your mouth. Daemon had inhaled  sharply and his hand was buried in your hair.

"Seven hells.", he growled and then pulled at your hair to signal you to move your head. You tried pulling off his cock and then letting him slide in again and by the sounds Daemon made he seemed to like it. Then, when you felt a little bolder your tongue played with his tip and you felt his grip on your hair tighten.

"Fuck. Oh my little owl. Doing so fucking good for me." You slightly grinned with his cock in your mouth and felt motivated to move faster. You bobbed your head on his cock and held on to his thigh to have some support. Your knees hurt incredibly on the stone ground but you didn’t care. Your only care right now was to please Daemon and it seemed like you were doing quite well.

"Ah.", he growled and his other hand that wasn’t in your hair gripped the edge of the table. "Oh fuck. What a good… fucking girl… you are."

You had lowered your gaze now and looked at his muscular stomach but Daemon pulled at your hair. "Look at me, Vhaela. Come on, I want to see your pretty face."

You forced yourself to look up to him even though it was hard for you with his cock in your mouth but you wanted to do as he said. Seeing you in front of him on your knees with your eyes interlocked with his‘ could almost make him come immediately. He moved his hips along with the movement of your head and thrusted into your mouth and with every push Daemon could feel himself moving closer to the edge.

"Huh.", he made. "Oh gods be fucking good.", he growled. You could feel him hit the back of your throat and struggled to fight your gagging reflex. He was so deep inside your mouth that tears welled up in your eyes and you had to force yourself to breathe. Out of reflex you tried to move away from him.

"Ah ah.", he whispered and held you tightly. "Don't fight me, little owl." His hand in your hair pushed you deeper on his cock and as much as it triggered your retching and it hurt, you liked it. You liked the feeling of his cock buried inside your mouth and the sounds you heard Daemon make, made you press your thighs together.

Then after one last twirl around his tip with your tongue he let out a deep moan and you felt him shoot his seed down your throat. You gagged and it was your reflex to move away from him but his grip on your head didn’t allow you to. You swallowed every drop of his seed and to your surprise it didn’t taste bad. Now you had closed your eyes but Daemon was too caught up in his pleasure to intstruct you not to and you could hear his heavy breathing.

Having found a liking in his taste you licked every ounce of his seed off his cock and then when you were done you looked up to your uncle again who watched you with a wide smirk. "Who would have thought that such an innocent, pure, little girl would turn out to be such a whore in the bedchambers.", he said, still slightly out of breath.

You blushed and droped your gaze while letting his cock slide out of your mouth. Daemon instantly grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you up to your feet. He took hold of your chin, got close to your face and lifted his eyebrows.

"I remember telling you I want you to look at me and not the fucking ground.", he whispered slowly and even though he didn’t sound angry (but rather… playful?), you gulped. "I’m sorry."

Daemon let go of your hair and caressed the side of your face with his right hand while moving you towards the table. His forehead almost touched yours and then your back hit the edge of the table.

"My little Vhaela…", he whispered. "There’s so much I want to do to you." You once again pressed your legs together at his words and Daemon noticed and smirked.

"Poor girl. Are you craving a release, my love?" You smiled softly. He had never called you his love before and it made your insides flutter.

"Yes.", you answered him and then he suddenly pushed you onto the table and kneeled down in front of you. Daemon roughly opened your legs and looked at your cunt with darkened eyes. He sighed deeply with a smirk on his face and then buried his face inside your cunt. His tongue licked a long stripe through the wetness from your hole up to your pearl. He quietly moaned at your taste and moved your legs to lay on his shoulder so he could tightly hold on to your hips. His tongue toyed with your little nub and spread your wetness all over it.

It felt so good you wanted to scream. His warm tongue lapping against you. He was so quick, intense... simply skilled. Your breath was fastened and you buried your hands in his head so he wasn’t able to stop. As if he would now. Buried between your thighs, tasting your sweet nectar and those noises leaving your mouth. What else could a man want?

Daemon liked to be in control when it came to sex and he liked to be master of the situation. But right now as he was devouring your cunt he knew that he had lost control. There wasn’t anything on his mind anymore except the taste, smell and sight of your bare cunt and he didn’t care about teasing or messing with you anymore. He didn't care about edging or torturing you, he simply had to feel you everywhere.

Daemon then used his thumb to get the little hood that covered your pearl out of the way so there was nothing protecting it from his tongue. You whimpered loudly and threw your head back. "Daemon. Daemon, please."

"Yes.", he whispered. "Let me hear you, riña (girl)."

At some point you didn’t have the power to hold yourself up on the table so you laid down on your back. You could see stars while looking at the ceiling and restlessly moved your hips. You didn’t even know what for. Daemon was glued to your cunt and it wasn’t possible to get any closer to you. But you just couldn’t stay still so your uncle slapped the side of your ass.

"Stop moving around. I have no problems leaving you here lustful and unsatisfied if you can’t obey me." Of course Daemon lied. He indeed would have a problem leaving you now but his darkened eyes looking at you from between your thighs looked stern so you tried to stop. Him leaving you here now would be the worst thing you could think of at this moment and you tightly held on to his hair.

"I’m sorry. I’ll stop.", you whined and Daemon went back to work. His tongue truly was magical and now instead of moving your hips you threw your head from one side to the other while nibbing at your finger. You could taste blood after a while but didn’t care. You just needed to do something, hold on to something, get any kind of friction.

"Daemon.", you repeatedly whimpered not knowing what you wanted him to do besides never stopping licking your cunt. Soon after that you felt closer and closer to your high. The newly discovered knot in your stomach tightened and your uncle could sense the tension in your body as well. He fastened his pace, flicked your little nub and circled it quickly until you felt the knot explode and you were drowned in pleasure.

You let out a little shriek and Daemon reached out to cover your mouth with his hands. There probably weren’t a lot of people walking around in the Keep at that hour but Daemon knew how anxious you were about someone finding out about the two of you and so did it to protect you.

The pleasure you received made you breathe heavily against his palm and you could feel him lick every drop of your juices. Then, when Daemon sensed that your high had faded he put his hand off your mouth, swallowed the last droplet that glistened on your cunt and stood up to watch you.

You had your eyes closed and your hands were pressed against your forehead, right on your hairline. Sweat was covering your face and your cheeks were reddened from your ecstasy. He had never seen a creature looking more delightful and couldn’t hide a smirk. Of course he would’ve loved to edge you tonight. Shortly before you had been about to reach your high it would’ve been amusing to stop and bring you so close to the edge over and over again without letting you pass it. It would’ve been cruel, yes, but also an enjoyment for Daemon to watch. And yet he hadn’t done it as he was simply too eager to taste your high and eventually bury his cock deep in your warm hole. So he had decided to leave it for another night and brought you to your release.

Now he didn’t waste any time, stepped between your legs and ran the tip of his cock over your puffy and wet cunt. You’re half closed eyes opened wider again when you felt him against you and you shifted when he hit your overstimulated pearl.

"Please.", you whined. "What?", Daemon asked, sounding a little contemptous. "What do you want?"

He pulled you closer to the edge of the table on which you were still lying with your bare back touching the cold stone surface. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him and crossed them behind his back thighs.

"Need to feel full.", you mumbled. With his left hand Daemon held you at your waist and his thumb stroke your soft skin. In the meantime his right guided his cock right to your throbbing hole that was so eager to be filled again.

And then, without a warning, Daemon pushed into you and you simultaneously moaned at the feeling. You felt a sharp pain in your core, like you did when you had first laid with him but this time it vanished as quickly as it had come. You thought that it felt even better than three nights ago because now after only few thrusts there wasn’t any kind of discomfort and you only felt full and content. Daemon filled you so well and hit that deep spot inside of you with almost every thrust. You both sighed and moaned loudly and he held you at your hips to meet his movements.

Then he leaned down to you and kissed you hungrily. Your hands found his hair again and you powerlessly tucked at his strands while Daemon’s hands caressed your cheek and neck and petted your burning skin. The kiss was sloppy and messy but exactly what the two of you needed at this moment.

Then his right hand moved to your neck and he wrapped it around it. You were surprised and panicked a little but Daemon soothingly kissed the corner of your mouth.

"Shhh…", he whispered while still moving deep inside of you. His grip around your throat became a little tighter and now you grabbed his hand that choked you. You pulled at it in an attempt to make him let go but Daemon didn’t and when you wanted to speak up, only a croak left your mouth.

"It’s alright, little owl. Relax.", he made but at first you desperately shifted underneath him. But yet you trusted him and so after a few seconds you did as he told you. You stopped fighting him and let go of his hand around your neck. You realised that Daemon’s grip wasn’t so tight that you would suffocate. He still let some air entering you but you continued to feel a little odd and were happy when his grip loosened after a few moments.

You inhaled deeply and enjoyed the fresh air filling your lungs. Daemon’s movements inside of you hadn’t stopped and now he kissed you right next to your ear.

"You have to relax when I do this.", he whispered and you moaned at a particulary sharp thrust deep inside you. "It’s more uncomfortable if you fight me. Just relax…and do as I tell you.", he whispered softly and you slightly nodded.

Your eyes were fluttering and you felt that it wouldn’t take you long until you would reach another high. His hand reached between your bodies and his thumb connected with your little pearl which made you struggle to keep your eyes open and you quietly cried out every time your uncle hit that spot inside you.

He could feel you clench around his cock which drove him closer to the edge as well. Then, with one last deep thrust inside of you and his tight circles around your nub, you let go and pleasure washed over you. You arched on the table and your eyes rolled back and at the same time Daemon reached his high with a groan.

"Oh fuck.", he moaned and collapsed on top of you. You felt his seed filling your cunt to the brim and now you didn’t even have the power to hold your legs wrapped around his back anymore so they fell to the ground. Daemon rested himself with one arm on either side of your face and had his face buried in your neck. You heard him pant loudly and his hair tickled your skin.

Then after a while you both had regained some of your strength and Daemon straightened up. He watched your fucked out body and smirked when he saw his seed leaking out of your hole and running down your leg. He slapped the side of your ass and then got himself dressed. "I think what you need now is taking a bath, little owl."

You got up as well and saw the room very fuzzily through your eyes. You gave yourself a moment until the flickering had vanished and then picked up your dress from the ground.

"Have you seen my badge with the sigil? It must’ve loosened from my shirt…" Daemon’s eyes searched the ground until he let out an "Ah.", and picked it up. His gaze wandered to you and he noticed that you hadn’t said a word in a while so he walked towards you and caressed your cheek.

"Everything fine?", he whispered with lifted eyebrows. You nodded but tears were swimming in your eyes which your uncle obviously noticed.

"Vhaela. What is it?" Yes, what was it? You looked down on your body and couldn't help but feel a lump in your throat. Because once again, there was this insecurity, this hate and disgust you felt about your own body. You didn't think you were beautiful and what a man wanted in a woman. Why did Daemon want you? Did he pity you? Or was he playing with you and wanted to make fun of you? Or, and you hadn't even thought about that yet, he wanted to provoke your father?

You looked to your hands and your voice sounded very quiet and thin. "I don't know why you desire to be with me." Daemon scoffed and came closer to you. "My little owl."

"No, I-I… I look like a boy and t-there's nothing feminine about me." Your uncle lifted your chin and his eyes looked determined so you would believe his next words.

"I thought I just made pretty clear that I want you, little one.", he whispered. "I can only speak for myself but I think you're rather pretty. Very much so. You are feminine and if you looked like a boy I wouldn't have just fucked you."

You chewed on your lower lip but still didn't look entirely convinced so Daemon sighed deeply.

"What do I have to say, mhm?" Your eyes wanted to escape his',  but he wouldn't let you. "Look at me, Vhaela.", he snapped. "I desire to lay with you. I desire to feel your good fucking mouth around my cock."

Daemon's eyes flashed and you exhaled deeply but then nodded. You still wouldn't say that he convinced you and had been able to make all your insecurities vanish with a few words but you felt a little lighter. The two of you had fucked twice now, why would he do it a second time if he didn't actually want to?

Your uncle raised his eyebrows. "Do you understand me?" You nodded and tried to lighten up a little. Well, there was also still this remaining little weight in your stomach that made you gulp but you couldn’t do anything about it. It was the guilt you felt from coupling with your uncle a second time, but at least you felt less bad than last time.

"I’m gonna bring you to your chambers, alright?" Daemon watched you intensely and his thumb ran over the area under your eye. You nodded again and let your uncle lace up your dress in your back.

Then the two of you walked to the door. Daemon opened it a crack, quickly peeked to see if someone was outside and then you stepped in the dark corridor. You were both silent as he led you upstairs to your chambers. There were guards now standing by the doors but you weren’t doing anything wrong walking around with your uncle so you didn’t care that they saw you. In case someone would find it suspicious you would simply have to come up with another explanation.

Then you stood in front of your door and Daemon opened and held it for you. You quickly slipped through it and he smirked at you.

"Sleep well, byka atroksia (little owl)."

[quitealotofsodapop]

Esta hurgando mis viejas libretas y encontre estos bocetos de Sun Wukong book acuratte que hice hace tiempo.

La pequeña Shihou sentada en un arbolito

Mi diseño de Sun Wukong en el viaje, he leido que en el principo del viaje mata a un tigre y usa su piel como vestimenta y como un tigre es enorme se la enrroya como tunica/vestido

y un boceto que tome prestada la pose de un dibujo para practicar de @/journey-to-the-au Amo su version del viaje del oeste djnsadkjsnad

translated via google:

"I was rummaging through my old notebooks and found these sketches of Sun Wukong book acuratte that I made a while ago. Little Shihou sitting on a little tree My design of Sun Wukong on the journey, I've read that at the beginning of the journey he kills a tiger and uses its skin as clothing and since a tiger is huge he wraps it around him like a tunic/dress and a sketch that I borrowed the pose from a drawing to practice from @/journey-to-the-au I love his version of the journey to the west djnsadkjsnad"

and i love these drawings!

I love how "monkey-like" you make Female!Wukong/Shihou. Adorably short and chubby.

More things I love; how her eyebrows curl like the circlet, how the tiger-sking skirt is instead a tunic (because it fits so large on her), and just how fierce she looks even at her short height! <3

[starshideurfics]

Captive, Captivating, part 2

part 1

into the steddie-verse, omegaverse, dubcon, we’re all in the same imperial rome/war prize gutter together, mdni 🔞

It takes nearly three quarters of an hour for Geta’s knot to go down, and he smiles smugly as his pretty little omega wriggles in place. The way he shifts just so, startling at his body’s reaction, the clench and pulse of being stretched open so perfectly for the first time.

Geta pets over Stepan’s flank, cups the firm cheeks of his round bottom, thinking about how nice it will feel to slam his hips against that plushness when he has his omega present and takes him from behind. How deep he will be able to delve into that sweet cunt to sow his seed. Deep enough it has to catch.

He refrains from slipping his fingers between those cheeks, no matter how much he wants to stroke over the tight furl of Stepan’s asshole. To make him shiver. To whisper, ‘All your holes will be mine, and soon enough you will beg for me to fuck you here.’ His barbarian prince has been through enough for the morning, Geta does not actually wish to terrorize him, especially not with all he has planned for the rest of the day.

Once he finally slips free, Geta plucks up Stepan’s cast aside loincloth, the linen roughspun, and uses it to wipe his cock clean. He smirks when he notices the pale streaks of red mixed with the slick and seed; their couplings will be easier now his maidenhead is broken.

Stepan has curled up on his side, legs squeezed tightly together, arms wrapped around his chest. Geta grips his knee, whispers, “I need to see, mellitus. Make sure the bleeding has stopped.”

He does not speak, simply allows Geta to lift his leg and bare his cunt. The lips are puffy, must be sore, and he’s careful as he gently feels around Stepan’s entrance, pleased to only find slick and seed when he pulls his fingers back. He sucks the shine from them, revels in the taste of them both mixed on his tongue, bitter and sweet and musky, and slowly lowers the omega’s leg. Draping the sheets back over Stepan, Geta stands, pulls on a robe, and goes to the entrance to the tent, ordering hot water and a wash basin be brought at once, along with food to break their fast after.

Sitting at his desk, Geta looks over the reports that will leave with the morning’s courier. He considers scribbling a note to his mother, to tell her of his plans, but quickly thinks better of it. There is little she can do for him from the capital, and surprise will be far more helpful to him when it comes to his brother.

When the water arrives, he tends to himself first, only really worrying about his groin as he washes away the last bits of drying cum. Then he returns to his bed, offering Stepan a hand, and helping him to his feet. Geta has the omega stand in the basin, and drags a warm, wet cloth over his body, washing away the dirt and sweat and slick. He’s nearly finished when Stepan stops his hand, trapping the cloth at his hip. “I can see to myself, Dominus.”

Geta preens at the word, how easily Stepan has begun using the title. My lord. Master. “And I care for what is mine.” Still, he passes the cloth to Stepan, watches as he wipes gingerly between his legs. It’s such a waste, washing all that beautiful slick away when Geta would happily lap it up and swallow it down. But there is not time for such indulgences.

Fetching a larger cloth, he wraps Stepan in it and squeezes his shoulders. “Dry well,” Geta orders, going to dig through a trunk and retrieving a tunica in deep, rich blue, tossing it casually onto the bed. He plucks a wooden comb from a side table, and returns to Stepan, careful as he pulls the fine teeth through his hair. He starts at the ends, working his way up to the roots, breaking up strands held together by sweat and oil, detangling a small knot at his nape. Once he’s satisfied with his work, Geta turns him towards the bed. “Dress. Quickly if you do not wish Caius to see your pretty ass when he brings our food.”

Geta does not take his own advice, robe open and showing off his soft cock, unbothered by his servants seeing him in any state of undress. His focus is again on compiling his reports, rolling up scrolls and slipping them in the courier’s case. He hands the case to Caius after he sets down the tray of roasted goat, bread, dates, and wine that is to be the morning meal.

Caius bows as he is dismissed, casting a furtive eye over to Stepan, the omega looking every inch a prince now he is so richly dressed. Geta suddenly desperately wants to gild him—gold at his throat and wrists, on his fingers, at his ankles and on his head, a chain dripping rubies and pearls around his waist…

Soon enough he will show off his prize, but first, he must stick to his plan.

Which first now means filling his stomach. He takes one chair next to the small table, nods to the other. “Sit. Eat.”

Stepan does as he’s told, his bites small. Even with his nerves quelling his appetite he must be hungrier than that. But Geta does not worry. He will ensure his omega feeds himself properly at the evening’s feast.

His own hunger sated, Geta retrieves a tunica for himself, this one in imperial purple, dressing to meet with an equal, even if Ricardius Spear-Handed is a lesser king of a small kingdom. He finishes with a gold circlet in his hair. He almost realizes too late that Stepan is barefoot, and fetches him a pair of leather sandals that tie in place at his ankle.

“Come, Stepan,” he whispers, offering his hand again, which the omega lightly grips, fingers loose. “A runner has already been sent ahead, and we had best be on our way. Your father will be expecting us.”

🌙🏛️🌿

The roman puts Stepan on a gentle mare, the horse following easily behind his own stallion. Silently, he takes in the familiar forest road, the verdant life and scents of his home in summer surrounding him. At least for the length of the journey he can pretend that this is any other day—that he will go home to sleep in his own nest when night falls, and this will all have been a strange dream.

But it’s not so. He will leave with the romans and almost certainly never return to his homeland. And he shall do so gladly if it will buy safety for his people. If it will keep his siblings from being sent into a losing battle.

His father’s hall comes into view and Stepan wants to leap from his horse and run inside. To fling himself into his mother’s arms and weep against her breast.

The dull ache between his legs is a potent reminder of why he cannot. His master has despoiled him, his value now locked to what this one alpha wants with him.

Fortunately, they do not need to wait long, his father’s personal guard coming out to meet them and escort the romans before their king. But Dominus is the one to offer Stepan his hand and help him from the mare’s back. “I have not chained you to my side, little prince,” he whispers in his ear. “You may go to your parents when we enter the hall. They are sure to be worried after your wellbeing.” He presses a soft kiss just below Stepan’s ear, like he can’t help himself from taking this small liberty. “Show them you are unharmed.”

“Yes, Dominus,” Stepan whispers back, dropping his hand and turning toward to doors.

Yakiv waits there, Master of the Guard, the man who taught Stepan how to hold a sword, to defend himself with a dagger. The one who carried him home when he fell from an apple tree at 8 years old and broke his arm, the one to hear Ravna’s shrieking when all he could do was lie on the ground and whimper in pain.

Stepan keeps his pace even as he crosses to meet him, Yakiv grabbing him by the shoulders as soon as he’s close enough. “Oh, pup, what did you do?”

“I was only… I know the woods so well! I only wanted to come back with information, but-” Stepan stops, swallows, lowers his voice back to just above a whisper. “I was angry. And I thought it would be more help than it was, and I got caught.”

“Yes. You did.” The disappointment in Yakiv’s scent burns in his nose. “You’re lucky you weren’t killed.”

“I know. But the romans knew of Father…”

“And your Latin is good.”

“Yes. And I’m an omega.”

The disappointment turns to concern, but Yakiv does not ask. He simply gathers Stepan to him in a bear hug, then ushers him into the hall.

His parents sit on their thrones, waiting, but as soon as he’s through the doors, his mother—stepmother, but the only mother he can remember—is on her feet, rushing to meet him. She kisses his cheek and wraps her arms around him. “Styopa, my heart, what happened? We’ve been sick with worry.”

“I’m sorry, Mama.” He hides his face against her shoulder. “But I’m all right. Everything will be all right now.”

“Styopa…” His mother doesn’t say anything more, she simply strokes his hair, kisses his forehead, and leads him back to the dais. She takes her seat, and he stands behind her, at her left shoulder.

Even though it is normally beneath his duties, Yakiv announces the roman’s entrance, Dominus followed by his own guards and contingent of soldiers. “My king,” he calls, “Caesar Septimius Geta thanks you for your hospitality and for welcoming him so quickly.”

Stepan’s blood turns to ice as he finally understands.

He is Emperor Severus’s younger son. Brother to Emperor Caracalla. Heir to the whole of the Roman Empire until his brother finally has children of his own.

And he wants Stepan.

The room tilts on its axis, and Stepan only stays upright by clutching at the backrest of the queen’s throne. His father will surely reprimand him for the disrespect, and for showing weakness in front of a foreign ruler. If only his father knew how weak he has already been before Geta.

How little he has to hide.

“Well met, Caesar!” Rikhardt calls, smiling as the roman advances. “Your emissary claims you come with terms of peace. Terms far fairer than our neighbors have been granted.”

Geta smiles with too many teeth. “I do, Rikhardt Spear-Handed. Bend the knee to Rome, and retain all your rights and sovereignties as king here. You will have the protection of Rome without giving up any of your lands or powers.”

Stepan looks to his father, sees his skeptical smile, knows the offer sounds too good to be true.

“And what do you ask of me, Septimius Geta?”

“I, of course, require that you offer hospitality and safe passage to any roman citizen passing through your lands, that you give quarter to legionnaires on campaign, and…” Geta pauses, glances around the room, dark eyes locking with Stepan’s for a long moment before he turns his attention back to the king. “I ask for your eldest son’s neck. I wish to take Stepan as my mate.”

A mating is more than a marriage, especially amongst romantic nobles as far as Stepan has learned. A marriage is an arrangement between families, built on politics and trade rather than attraction or intimacy. Stepan had not thought he would even be offered marriage, just the comfort of being a pampered concubine, one who could be a spy because who cares what is said before an unlearned foreigner.

But a mating—

“Stepan, come,” Rikhardt says, motioning with two fingers, and Stepan rushes to comply, certain he’s missed some of the conversation as he circles around to stand beside him.

“Yes, Father?”

Rikhardt takes Stepan by the hand, looks up into the eyes that match his own, and asks, “Do you accept this alpha’s offer for your neck?”

Stepan does not hesitate in his answer. There is no other choice. “I do.”

“Good. Then it is what shall be!” Rikhardt stands, puts an arm around Stepan’s shoulder, and turns his gaze back onto Geta and his wolfish grin. “We shall prepare the wedding feast, for tonight you will marry him before our gods, and then his neck will be yours.”

Part 3

[theromaboo]

The first chapter of My Immortal, but instead of Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way, it's Julius Caesar!

CHapter 1.

AN: Special thankz 2 my bf (maybe in that way??) ciCero, OPtimatesAreBest666SPQR 4 helpin me wif da story nd speling. U ROK.

Hi my name is G’aius Ju’lius Caes’ar and I used to have thick, lusty, toucheble hair of unknown color (haha quirky am i rite?) and inky black eyes like black orbs. I’m not related to M. Tullius Cicero but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie (AN: If u dont know who he is get da hell out of here). I’m from like 50 BC but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I'm also a dictater in perpetuum but not in the dysyopian YA novel way. I also became a god after I was stabbed (lolzz spoiler alurt) I wear a loose girdle and Sulla called me an ‘ill-girted boy’. I did a really cool thing recently (u know, Gaul thingz) and I’m currently dressing to flex about it. For example today I was wearing a laurel wreath and a toga picta and a tunica palmata. I was walking through Rome. It was not the Ides of March, which I was very happy about. A lot of plebs stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

“Hey Caes’ar!!” shouted a voice. I looked up… it was Marcus Junius Brutus!

“What’s up Brutus?” I asked.

“Nothing.” he said shyly.

But then, I heard my friends call me and I had to go away.

AN: IS it good? PLZ tell me plebzz.

[domusplautii]

After many hours, here is Titus Lartius, one of my Roman OCs from my current WIP.

A few notes about his outfit under the cut :)

This is my first time drawing Titus (besides a couple of sketches to get a feel for his face shape etc) AND the first time I’ve drawn a toga - which let me just say, is the most inexplicable item of clothing I have ever tried to understand. I think I get it now, but still - I have questions.

Technically, this is a trabea, the formal dress for members of the equites (knights) which is described as having horizontal stripes. Every recreated version (either illustration or re-enactment) I found online had the stripes limited to the actual toga itself as here; but that doesn’t really warrant calling them horizontal in my opinion - and makes them look pretty much the same as the senatorial toga to me. With no contemporary images (that I’m aware of) to reference, I made free with the tunica, and put stripes there, too, which are definitely horizontal.

Side note, togas were made bright white for special occasions by applying chalk; so I’ve tried to capture some sense of that but that too was tricky.

I really want to draw more togas in future in colours with stripes and patterns because coloured togas would’ve been more common among the wealthy, and I love colour :)

Here is the statue I used as main reference:

[Photo is mine; he’s at Ostia Antica, Italy.]

[justgarb]

Hello! I'm James of Rosenfeld, and this is a blog dedicated to garb, costuming, SCA, and other costumed nerd activities.

Originally intended for how-to guides and photosets for constructing my own kit, but it has evolved into something more.

Main is @nerdintheforest and I do alot of renfaire vending and craft stuff over at @easternwoods

Queued posts run once or twice per day (3 or 4 if it needs management)

Useful search tags (queued posts included):

My stuff:

#my garb #my crafts #my gear #my sca

#my collabs

Getting Started with Garb:

#starter garb #fast garb

#ots garb (off the shelf garb you can buy)

#child garb (great for practice, prototyping, and confidence building)

Construction and Repair:

#how to guides #tutorial

#fabric sourcing

#sewing #sewing tips

#seam finishing

#gore gusset godet

#trim #buttons

#mending #darning

#pattern

Garb by component:

#footwear #boots #shoes #turn shoes

#tunic #coat

#dress #apron dress #gown

#belt #medieval belt

#cape #cloak #shawl

#bag #pouch #pocket

#hat #fur hat #hood #skjoldehamn hood

#pants #hosen

#winter wear #summer wear

#stola #tunica #chiton

#handwear #gloves

#horns #jewelry

and of course

#armor

Other kit tags:

#camping #gear

#porting #drinkware

Fiber Arts:

#fiber crafts #fiber art #fiber sourcing

#yarn sourcing #cordage

#embroidery #needle felting

#braiding #finger loop braid #norse braiding

#skjoldehamn braid #skjoldehamn belt

#tablet weaving #weaving

#knitting #crochet #nalbinding #lace

#visible mending

#dye

Specific materials:

#leather #fur #sinew

#velvet

#beading #bead making

Society for Creative Anachronism:

#sca #heraldry

#sca combat #rapier #heavy

#sca events

Styles:

Tag list here

Unorganized Tags:

Tag list here

Thanks for coming!

If you want to buy me a glass of mead or support my fabric hoarding habit, here are a few options:

My Venmo

My CashApp

My Paypal

Or catch me out at Faire of Champions!

HAVE SOME SHAMELESS ADS

Bordermarch Annual Melee (BAM)

My local faire I work

I do not get paid for these ads, i just like playing dress up

[butchjess]

On the other hand though, (while I'm still on my Carmina Burana kick) this song is clearly about Rory (in her Dance Marathon dress, perhaps?):

Stetit puella/ rufa tunica/ si quis eam tetigit/ tunica crepuit. eia!

stetit puella/ tamquam rosula/ facie splenduit/ os eius floruit. eia!

A girl stood/ in a red dress/ if anyone touched it/ the dress rustled. Eia!

A girl stood/ like a little rose/ her face shone/ and her mouth bloomed. Eia!

OHHOHJH THIS IS SO CUTE… definitely about rory and i’d say its both the dance marathon AND her coming out dress in Presenting Lorelai Gilmore like jess looking at her to see if he made her laugh or if she thought it was funny is very much the last line. and her mouth bloomed…

[kimludcom]

SPECIFICATIONSBrand Name: NoEnName_NullElasticity: Non StrechSleeve Style: regularFabric Type: PolyesterPattern Type: SolidFit Type: LOOSESilhouette: LOOSENeckline: Turn-down CollarDecoration: NONEStyle: CasualDresses Length: Knee-LengthMaterial: COTTONMaterial: PolyesterMaterial: SPANDEXAge: MIDDLE AGEOrigin: Mainland

[emiliyalane]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Women TART tunica dress sz medium.

[lavetirdresses]

Wedding Attire over The Course of Time towards Change

The history of wedding attire is as long and intricate as the wedding itself. Through the centuries of changes in society, culture and the economic landscape wedding attire has seen incredible changes reflected in these shifts in society, culture and economics. This article traces the evolution of wedding attire, from basic clothes of the past to the more elaborate styles of today, with a particular focus on the evolution of bridal and orange bridesmaid dresses.

The wedding dress of the past was usually basic and practical. Brides usually wore their finest gowns for any occasion, like wearing tunica recta which was made of white wool, woven on long tunics. They frequently constituted the bride's attire during these ceremonies that were more focused on the economic and social connections as opposed to personal expression.

The Middle Ages saw the dawning of wedding gowns as symbols of class and wealth. Wedding brides of noble families would wear extravagantly colored gowns that were adorned with extravagant embroidery and furs to demonstrate their status and wealth; blue was commonly chosen to symbolize purity in the time.

Renaissance weddings of the period witnessed a rise in lavishness. Bridal gowns were more extravagant and featured luxurious fabrics such as velvet and silk and intricate embroidery techniques as well as the introduction of lacing. In addition, this was the beginning of the transition to white wedding dresses, although still not a common practice.

Princess Victoria as well as Prince Albert's wedding was the turning point of wedding fashion history in 1840, when queen Victoria picked a white dress embellished with lace and showcasing an elegant long train to complete her wedding ensemble. Since the time, white wedding dresses have been a symbol of innocence and purity, and their popularity has remained constant as they increase throughout across the Western world.

The 20th century witnessed drastic changes in bridal fashion that reflected the changing attitudes of society. For instance, in beginning of the 1900s, we saw brides dressed as the "Gibson Girl" bride wearing dresses with high necklines, puff sleeves, corset closures, and corsets and 1920's flapper brides were wearing dresses with a shorter hemline and waistlines that exemplified the freedom and independence of bridal fashion.

After the Second World War The 1950s saw the return of traditional values and feminine bridal style, including dresses with full skirts and fitted bodices that resembled the Dior New Look. However, the last portion of the 20th and into the 21st century have seen an explosion of diverse bridal styles, reflecting a widening of the boundaries of social norms and personal expression. Brides can now choose from a variety of styles from bohemian minimalism to classical or even extravagant wedding celebrations.

The tall bridesmaid dresses also has changed in the course of time. The traditional dress for bridesmaids was similar to those used by the bride in an effort to deflect evil spirits and safeguard her. Today, however, bridal gowns have become fashionable and are often complemented by it with regard to fashion and color.

Modern weddings are a place where every bride wants their wedding to reflect her personality as an individual. Bridal and bridesmaids' attire reflects the current fashion. The contemporary bridal industry is able to accommodate many different tastes size, shapes, and sizes to meet the needs of each bride's individuality during her special day.

Wedding attire is a reflection of society's economic, social and cultural changes over the years. From practical attire to symbols of status to expressions personal fashion and reflections of changes in society - wedding dress is constantly evolving and capturing each moment while maintaining the traditions of weddings.

[roaming-through-time]

Good day friends! Or as the native romans here like to say… Salve!

I am not sure how many of you remember my last post, but I was standing outside the Colosseum not able to get in. Now thinking about, I understand why the local had warned me not to go in, because I was not dressed as a wealthy woman or those of the higher social status. Since then, I came up with an idea to get disguise as an elite woman. I will be in full incognito since they won’t be able to notice that I don’t belong here! To be clear, I am dressing up an elite woman since it is in the higher level and I feel like it with enough layers I can pull it off….hopefully. I got help from a local woman here who is always at home taking care of her children and providing for her husband always, since that is what the norm here is. She kindly provided me with these clothes and tips. I started by first putting on a long and elegant stola, its rich colors reflecting my “elevated status.” Also draping a palla over my left shoulder which adds an extra touch of grace. Underneath, a knee-length tunica provides a simple yet foundational layer. I aIso made sure to wear jewelry made of from scrap metals I could find. The local kind women also provided me with sandals and gave me a crafted hairstyle, adorned with pins and a subtle veil. With each garment in place, I stand ready to embody the world of an elite Roman woman!

Heading to the Colosseum, I knew I was close because the smell of dust, sweat and death come back to me. As I enter through the massive archways, I followed the other elite women and went to a special section in the amphitheater known as the cavea/ seating area. In the big arena, the gladiators stepped out, looking tough and sweaty. The crowd went wild, shouting and cheering. The ground was covered in sand. The gladiators, ready for a fight, eyed each other with determination. When the battle started, you could hear the clang of weapons, it was loud and exciting. The gladiators moved fast, showing off their skills. The people watching couldn't take their eyes off the fight and they were on the edge of their seats. Some called out the names of their favored gladiators, passionately endorsing their chosen champions. Cheers of encouragement and exuberant applause filled the air as the crowd became emotionally invested in the unfolding spectacle. The gladiators were like a mix of strong and quick, dodging and attacking. The sounds of swords hitting shields and the occasional triumphant yell echoed in the air. The fighters were wearing shiny armor that sparkled in the sun, making them look even more impressive. Unfortunately, it got to a point where it was too disturbing and gruesome that I almost threw up. The fighters fought for their lives, and watching the intense scene, depicting human struggle and sacrifice so vividly, was very tough to witness in person. I knew it was time to go somewhere else.

#OnToTheNext #SadAndScared #TimeTravelerAtHeart #RoamingThroughRome #HIS101 #FinalProject

[my3dartblog]

The legions of the Roman Empire had a fairly standardized dress and armor, particularly from the early to mid-1st century onward, when the segmented armor (Lorica Segmentata) was introduced. This Roman Legionary set includes an imperial Gallic type G Roman helmet (Galea) with an optional horse hair crest for Centurions, a Corbridge type A segmented armor cuirass (Lorica Segmentata), a tunic (Tunica), leather army sandals (Caligae), a scarf (Focale) to protect the neck from chafing by the armor, a belt with dangling straps and a dagger scabbard (Cingulum Militare or Balteus), a scabbard with a belt for the sword. Also included is a sword (Gladius) with two classical blade shapes (Hispaniensis and Mainz), a javelin (Pilum), a dagger (Pugio), and a shield (Scutum). The Lorica Segmentata armor is constructed from rigid overlapping plates that are rigged to move like in real life without conforming. The outfit can be simulated with dForce for the best results for the tunica and the balteus. Alea iacta est! What's Included and Features Roman Legionary Outfit for Genesis 9: (.DUF) Props: PRZ Roman Legionary Gladius Hispaniensis PRZ Roman Legionary Gladius Mainz PRZ Roman Legionary Pilum PRZ Roman Legionary Pugio PRZ Roman Legionary Scutum PRZ Roman Legionary Gladius PRZ Roman Legionary Pilum Smart Props: PRZ Roman Legionary Scutum Left Hand PRZ Roman Legionary Pilum Right Hand PRZ Roman Legionary Pugio Right Hand PRZ Roman Legionary Gladius Hispaniensis Right Hand PRZ Roman Legionary Gladius Mainz Right Hand PRZ Roman Legionary Centurio: Expand All Loosen Buttocks Loosen Chest Loosen Elbow Loosen Midriff Loosen Neck Loosen Skirt Above Knee Loosen Skirt Below Knee Loosen Skirt Mini Loosen Sleeves Loosen Waist Lower Loosen Waist Upper PRZ Roman Legionary Balteus: Expand All Loosen Skirt Above Knee Loosen Skirt Mini Loosen Waist Lower Loosen Waist Upper Adjust Leather Straps PRZ Roman Legionary Caligae: Expand All Loosen Ankles Loosen Shins PRZ Roman Legionary Focale: Expand All Loosen Chest Loosen Neck PRZ Roman Legionary Galea Centurio: Cheek Piece Left Adjust Cheek Piece Right Adjust PRZ Roman Legionary Galea: Cheek Piece Left Adjust Cheek Piece Right Adjust PRZ Roman Legionary Lorica Segmentata: Expand All Loosen Buttocks Loosen Chest Loosen Midriff Loosen Neck Loosen Shoulders Loosen Waist Lower Loosen Waist Upper Chest Plate Back Left Chest Plate Front Left Chest Plate Back Right Chest Plate Front Right Girdle Plates Up Back Girdle Plates Up Front Girdle Plates Up Leftt Girdle Plates Up Right Girdle Plates Up Back Girdle Plates Up Leftt Girdle Plates Up Right Shoulder Guard Left Side-Side Shoulder Guard Left Up-Down Shoulder Guard Back Left Shoulder Guard Front Left Shoulder Guard Left Front-Back Girdle Plates Up All Shoulder Guard Right Side-Side Shoulder Guard Right Up-Down Shoulder Guard Back Right Shoulder Guard Front Right Shoulder Guard Right Front-Back PRZ Roman Legionary Scabbard: Expand All Loosen Back Loosen Chest Loosen Midriff Loosen Neck Loosen Waist PRZ Roman Legionary Tunica: Expand All Loosen Buttocks Loosen Chest Loosen Elbow Loosen Midriff Loosen Neck Loosen Skirt Above Knee Loosen Skirt Below Knee Loosen Skirt Mini Loosen Sleeves Loosen Waist Lower Loosen Waist Upper Supported Shapes: Base Base Masculine Ivar 9 Julius 9 Lawrence 9 Michael 9 Nathan 9 Other Shapes may be supported in Daz Studio by Auto-follow Materials: Balteus 00 Light Caligae 00 Dark Focale 00 Red Galea 00 Mild Steel Gladius 00 Bone Grip Lorica 00 Mild Steel Pilum 00 Brown Pugio 00 Bronze Scabbard 00 Leather Scutum 00 Red A Tunica 00 Red Textures Include: 55 Texture, Bump, Normal, Glossy Roughness, and Transparency Maps (4096 x 4096) Daz Studio Iray Material Presets (.DUF) Required Products: Genesis 9 Starter Essentials Compatible Figures: Genesis 9 Compatible Software: dForce Cloth, Daz Studio 4.21 Install Types: DazCentral, Daz Connect, DIM, Manual Install Coming soon: https://3d-stuff.net/ #daz3d #dazstudio #3drender #3dart #daz3dstudio #irayrender #3dartwork #blender #blenderrender #blenderart #noaiart #noaiwriting #noai https://3d-stuff.net/

[theromaboo]

7, 13, and 15 for the historical asks

Thank you for the ask!

7. Historical dressing, uniform or costume?

When I was 13, I sewed my own tunica and paenula and wore them to school so I think they deserve the spotlight!

Tunica

Paenula

I actually got into the school yearbook so here's that.

13. Something random about some random historical person in a random era.

For some reason whenever someone asks me a question like that, I freeze up and literally can't think of anything!

I'll just say what I usually say when someone asks me for a random fun fact. Apparently Nero and Britannicus had some birds that were taught to say a few things in Greek and Latin.

"At the moment that I am writing this, the young Caesars (Nero and Britannicus) have a starling and some nightingales that are being taught to talk in Greek and Latin; besides which, they are studying their task the whole day, continually repeating the new words that they have learnt, and giving utterance to phrases even of considerable length." Pliny the Elder, The Natural History, 10.59

Omg omg omg. That's so cute! So cute! My heart can't take it. Especially with what happened in the end. . .

Anyway, @the-little-fox-in-the-box I know you will love that quote.

15. Were the history classes teached in an interesting way in your school/ college/ university? What would you do to improve them if you were the teacher / lecturer?

Uhhhh it really depends on what was being taught! I think generally, the history of other places was taught in a much more engaging and interesting way than how the history of Canada was taught. And guess what 99% of the history classes were about :(

Canadian history.

I think that the history of Canada should be taught more similarly to how the history of other places is taught. It's like they want us to forget Canadian history!

Generally when we were taught Canadian history, we never got any creative assignments. We only got extremely boring quizzes and tests. And the assignments that are literally just tests you get to bring home.

But when we were taught Renaissance history, all our assignments were super creative. I got to compare art styles and have interviews with Dante and Petrarch and stuff like that. And I still know a lot about this part of history and I would happily study about it, which I cannot say about Canadian history.

For non-Canadian history, I think it was taught well and it was engaging and interesting. My only critiques are of the content itself. I think very often they kind of zoom into one perspective and refuse to look anywhere else. But that's not how it was taught, but what was taught, which isn't really what this question is asking.

Why can't we have creative ways to apply our knowledge in Canadian history? The way I was taught it, we were pretty much just encouraged to memorize the summaries of a bunch of dull events to regurgitate during a test and never care about ever again.

So yeah, if I was the teacher, I'd just teach all the history as if it were non-Canadian history.

[native-blog-deutsch]

Der Weg zur Heilung: Die Macht der Stammesgemeinschaften

Ein Kommentar von Levi Rickert: Im Sommer 2021, einen Monat nachdem die Welt durch die Entdeckung von 215 Überresten unschuldiger Schulkinder in der Kamloops Industrial Residential School in British Columbia wachgerüttelt wurde, nahm ich an einer Gemeinschaftsveranstaltung in meiner Heimatstadt Grand Rapids, Michigan, teil. Die vierstündige Veranstaltung umfasste ein Potluck-Dinner, Jingle-Dress-Tanz und einen Gesprächskreis. Der Gesprächskreis war geprägt von ehrlichen Gesprächen und Tränen. Eine junge Frau erzählte, wie sie einen Nachmittag mit trockenen Bienenstöcken verbrachte, weil sie so bestürzt darüber war, dass unschuldige Kinder der Ureinwohner beim Besuch der Schule in Kamloops starben. Das Wichtigste, was ich von dieser Veranstaltung mitnehmen konnte, war, dass eine neue Generation junger amerikanischer Ureinwohner die Wahrheiten über indianische Internate entdeckte, die wir älteren Ureinwohner bereits seit Jahrzehnten kannten. Als Journalistin der amerikanischen Ureinwohner fällt es mir manchmal schwer, über Dinge zu berichten, die ich an der Seite meiner Stammesgemeinschaft erlebe. Als Potawatomi teile ich den Schmerz und den Kummer. Das war auch an diesem Tag im Jahr 2021 der Fall. Damals habe ich nicht über das Ereignis berichtet. Das konnte ich nicht. Dieses Ereignis fand ein ganzes Jahr vor dem Beginn der Road to Healing-Tour des US-Innenministeriums statt, die im Juli 2022 in Anadarko, Oklahoma, begann. Seitdem fanden 11 Road to Healing-Zuhörsitzungen statt, darunter auch eine gestern in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Bei allen Road to Healing-Sitzungen haben die Ältesten der Ureinwohner über ihre Erfahrungen während des Besuchs von Indianer-Internaten berichtet, darunter auch über Fälle von körperlichem, emotionalem und sexuellem Missbrauch. Ich bin immer wieder erstaunt über die unverblümte Offenheit derjenigen, die bei diesen Anhörungen mündlich Zeugnis ablegen. Die Ältesten erzählen von Grausamkeiten, die sich vor Jahrzehnten ereignet haben, in lebhaften Details, als wären sie erst vor ein oder zwei Wochen geschehen. Es ist, als hätten sie jahrelang ein Tonbandgerät in ihrem Kopf abgespielt und dürften nun endlich die Play-Taste drücken und die Lautstärke aufdrehen. Oft werden die Zeugnisse von den Ältesten vorgetragen, die sichtlich zittern und denen die Tränen über die Wangen laufen. Bei der Veranstaltung Road to Healing am Sonntag war der Vorsitzende des Tunica-Biloxi Tribe of Louisana, Marshall Pierite, einer von mehreren anwesenden Stammesführern. "Es war sehr wichtig, die Wahrheit darüber zu erfahren, was in diesen Internaten passiert ist. Ich bin sehr stolz darauf, dass Minister Haaland diese Anhörungen durchführt, denn dadurch wird der Heilungsprozess eingeleitet", sagte Pierite gegenüber Native News Online. Ich habe diese Heilung in Aktion gesehen. Eine Woche zuvor wurde nach einem Tag mit Zeugenaussagen ein heilender Totempfahl auf dem Gelände des Alaska Native Heritage Center aufgestellt. Etwa 500 Alaska-Ureinwohner versammelten sich, um das Aufstellen des heilenden Totempfahls zu beobachten. Das Aufstellen war ein Gemeinschaftsereignis, an dem viele beteiligt waren, darunter Innenministerin Deb Haaland (Laguna Pueblo), die bei der Segnung des Pfahls half, und der stellvertretende Minister Bryan Newland (Bay Mills Indian Community), der beim Tragen des Pfahls half. Dieser heilende Totempfahl wurde von der Haida-Ältesten Norma Jean Dunne (Haida/Tsimshian) entworfen. Er wurde dieses Jahr im Alaska Native Heritage Center von den Haida-Meisterschnitzern Gidaawaan Joe Young und Sgwaayaans T.J. Young geschnitzt. Eine Inschrift für den heilenden Totempfahl lautet: Das heilende Totem stellt eine Bärenmutter dar, die ihre beiden Jungen umklammert, während der Vater (in menschlicher Gestalt) über ihr sitzt, eingebettet in einen Rabenschwanz. Über ihm befindet sich der Rabe mitten in der Verwandlung, an einem Ort zwischen der menschlichen und der Rabenform. Zwei Kinder ruhen bequem in Rabenohren. Das Aufstellen des heilenden Totempfahls war Teil einer langen Veranstaltung, die mit Gesang, Tanz und einer kulturellen Zeremonie verbunden war. Der Totempfahl wurde schließlich kurz vor Sonnenuntergang im Gedenken an die Tausenden von Opfern indianischer Internate aufgestellt. Es ist der einzige Totempfahl, der in den Vereinigten Staaten für die Opfer indianischer Internate aufgestellt wurde. Es war ein beeindruckendes Erlebnis, die große Menschenmenge zu sehen, die den Opfern indianischer Internate gedachte. Unmittelbar nach dem Aufstellen des Totempfahls wurde ich zum Flughafen gebracht, um mit einem roten Flieger nach Hause zu fliegen. Ich verließ Anchorage mit neuer Hoffnung auf Heilung, denn der Totempfahl war ein Symbol dafür, dass Heilung für unsere Stammesgemeinschaften, die so lange gelitten haben, möglich ist. Der Totempfahl ist ein dauerhaftes Symbol. Aber es ist die Kraft der Stammesgemeinschaft, die zusammenkommt, die mir für immer in Erinnerung bleiben wird. Wir wissen, dass Heilung eine Reise ist, die ein Leben lang dauern kann. Sie kann auf verschiedene Weise erfolgen: durch das Eingestehen vergangener Schmerzen, durch psychologische Beratung, durch Gebete an hohe Mächte und, was vielleicht am wichtigsten ist, durch das Zusammenkommen von Stammesgemeinschaften. Gemeinschaft ist alles für die Ureinwohner. Wir dürfen nie vergessen, dass es Kraft gibt, wenn wir im Geiste der Einheit zusammenkommen. Thayék gde nwéndëmen - Wir sind alle miteinander verbunden. Originalartikel Read the full article

[whennnow]

Roman Garb for SCA

April 27, 2023

[Image ID: a photo of Alex wearing blue and green Roman garb, posed in front of a dark grey backdrop.]

I discovered my area's SCA group last summer and started going to their weekly meetings around the end of the year. I'm lucky - our local barony's meeting place is only a half-hour drive from me!

I had managed to avoid garbed events until recently - a neighboring barony hosted a Roman-themed event at the end of April and I wanted to go, so I needed garb. Roman garb wasn't required for the event, but I figured it was the easiest option to pull together on short notice.

My planned outfit was simple - a gap-sleeved tunic/tunica, a palla/shawl, a belt, sandals, and jewelry. I had decided on a color scheme already (minty greens and muted blues), which made it easy to coordinate.

The Tunica

The tunica is the main part of my garb, like a dress. I popped by Joann Fabrics and picked up three yards of a double-layer blue cotton gauze, I think. It's opaque, but the fabric is textured and shifty. I have a modern shirt and a dress in a similar fabric, so I knew how it would behave. (And I knew that when I was ready to level up to a linen tunica I could make modern clothing out of the fabric.)

The fabric was about 60" wide, give or take the texture, so it was wide enough to reach from wrist to wrist on me. The three yards were just barely long enough to reach from shoulder to ankle on me when folded or cut in half. I wish I could have used the selvage of the fabric as the top and bottom hem - I only would have had one seam to sew and I would have a bit more length to work with - but the texture of the fabric didn't look right going that way. So I made do.

I cut the three yards in half and sewed the selvage edges of each half to each other, creating one big tube. I did a zigzag stitch over the raw edges at the top and bottom because they frayed a lot. I hemmed the top edge by hand, but didn't have time to hem the bottom. Thankfully it wasn't noticeable!

To create the gap-sleeve look, I raided my button stash and found eight brown metal buttons (brass? bronze? whatever the go-to steampunk color is). One button was placed on each side about seven inches from the side seam to create the armhole. Another button was placed seven inches on either side of the center front/back to create the neckhole. Then I sewed two more buttons on either side, evenly placed between the arm and neck buttons.

And with that, the tunica was wearable!

The Palla

The palla was the really long draped shawl Roman women wore over the tunica and was also used as a veil.

I ordered 3.5 yards of a mint green cotton voile from Mood Fabrics for this - I wanted to be able to straighten both raw edges of the fabric and still have plenty to drape.

It was even simpler to make than the tunica. I just tore the raw edges to make sure they were on grain, pulled out a few extra weft threads, and called it a day. I could have hemmed the two raw edges, but I didn't have the time, and it wasn't really necessary.

After the event, I actually washed the palla (which had fallen on the ground and been dragged a bit) and only lost one or two more weft threads on either side.

The Belt

I was really at a loss for what to do about the belt. In the SCA, certain belt colors mean certain things and none of those things apply to me.

My original thought had been to make a fabric sash out of the same fabric as the tunica. It would be a color, but I thought that it would blend into the tunica well, especially if I wore the palla in a way that mostly hid it. Unfortunately, I didn't have enough fabric to cut a sash and still allow the tunica to be as long as I wanted. And I didn't have the budget to buy a cord.

I ended up just using a black leather wrap belt I've owned for years. It's not historically accurate, but it still looked nice.

The Jewelry

My original thought was to just wear my dark blue and silver jewelry set that I had originally made for my Regency wardrobe. It certainly fits in with Roman jewelry, and it was close enough to my intended color scheme.

Then I remembered that I had a set of connectors that looked like the style of Roman earrings that have three beads hanging from a horizontal bar. And I had sodalite beads that are similar in color to my tunica. And I had oval-disc-shaped stone beads that matched the product photos of my palla material (I had ordered the fabric but it hadn't arrived yet).

So I made a pair of earrings, each one consisting of a sodalite bead, a disc, and another sodalite bead dangling from a silver bar.

Then I couldn't stop admiring the minty-green disc beads and thinking how lovely they would look on a necklace. I didn't have enough of those beads for a necklace, though, and I didn't even have enough sodalite beads to alternate them on a necklace. I did, however, have another kind of green bead that coordinated nicely with the discs.

So I made individual links for all the beads - 10 discs total and 11 of the round green beads - and used a silver toggle clasp at the ends. That gave me a good length to rest loosely at the base of my neck.

And then I wanted the earrings to match the necklace, so I had to switch the sodalite beads out for the green ones.

These were absolutely impulse projects, but I love how they turned out! I'm especially happy that I was able to use all stash materials after how much I spent on fabric for this.

Further Notes

For shoes, I just wore a pair of flat black sandals I've had for years. I figured the black coordinated with my belt and no one would be looking too closely.

This outfit is pretty far from historically accurate, it's more like historically passable. The SCA group I've joined is very self-aware about SCA-isms (aka things that the SCA community considers acceptable, but that aren't historically accurate) and they openly embrace the "creative" part of the Society for Creative Anachronism.

Many women doing more accurate Roman garb would wear a stola, a sort of narrower tunica over the other tunica. That is considered to be something matrons would wear, and I'm neither married nor a mother, so I decided to skip it. I did see a lot of stolas over white tunics at the event and they were really pretty!

The silver-tone jewelry doesn't seem to be accurate, either. Most (if not all) extant Roman jewelry and the jewelry seen in paintings, frescos, etc, is gold tone. I only had silver bars for the earrings though, and my outfit is more cool-toned anyway.

Finally, for the sake of modern modesty and comfort, I did wear modern underthings under this, along with a slip.

Looking Forward

I really enjoyed pulling this ancient Roman ensemble together, and I'm proud of how it turned out, given my time and budget constraints.

I do want to upgrade it, though!

For one, I'd like to switch the jewelry I made to gold-tone findings. I actually went to a jewelry-making workshop at the event, so I now know how the Romans made their connectors and I have the wire to do it with! I'll need a clasp for the necklace and connector bars for the earrings, though.

Next up would be the tunica. You often see tunicas with a contrasting band along the top and sometimes bottom edge, and sometimes they're even patterned bands. I'd like to add that to my tunica - I could really use the extra length. I'm thinking a lighter or darker blue or maybe a grey. Maybe a patterned ribbon trim, maybe a design stenciled on with fabric paint. I haven't decided yet.

I'd also like to get a cord or ribbon to do a proper belt. Having multiple would be even better! I'll have to chat with some SCA-dians to figure out what I could do without infringing on the color codes.

Last up would be the palla. I could totally leave it as-is, which is why it's my last priority, but I could also hem it or add colored bands around the edges.

Eventually, if I find myself going to more events (especially in the hot summer months), I might add more to my Roman wardrobe. That's a long way off, though!

In the meantime,

Stay warm. Stay safe. Stay healthy.

[Image ID: a flay-lay photo of green and silver jewelry on a textured blue background.]

[iou1freetv]

i had a  vision of my ideal is a outfit and threw a collage together as fast as i could. Dress is a heavily modified linen stola worn without tunica or cloth palla. Sewn into shape with silver thread, scooped neckline, a single full fingered glove sleeve . Single folded layer at natural A line. The skirt below has phalanges and metacarpals attached at the waistline with chains going through grommets in the fabric,  the chains interlock the bones with a series of drilled passages and anchor plates attached to volar to keep flexible and securely suspended. Under the bones the fabric has been stained and the hem left so worn, tattered, and burned that  it has become as sheer as a chiffon of the deepest shades of umber from every single thread gradually becoming fully saturated with every new layer of filth and only being washed with the blood of felled enemies. All tied together with the crown and scythe just to add a few essential accessories.