#ascot knot scarf

[whateverbringsyouthroughthenight]

Tip to take: Clearly, Townshend made head-to-toe print work, but a lot of the time he stuck to a reliable uniform of slim-cut mod tailoring and let his accessories do the talking. Case in point: London's Saville Theatre, 1967, at which he completed his classic striped blazer with a subtle flower-printed scarf. Top points for that fold; it's called an Ascot knot and it's the most elegant way to centralise your outfit.

[newmanclu0]

The Evolution and Significance of Men's Ties: A Sartorial Journey

Throughout the annals of history, men's fashion has seen myriad transformations, with each era bringing its unique styles and trends to the forefront. Among the various elements of men’s attire, the tie stands out as a symbol of sophistication, professionalism, and personal expression. From its early origins to its contemporary variations, the tie has evolved significantly, mirroring changes in society, culture, and fashion sensibilities. This article delves into the history, evolution, and enduring significance of men’s ties, exploring how this simple accessory has become an indispensable part of men’s wardrobe across the globe.

The Origins of the Tie

The history of the tie traces back to the 17th century during the Thirty Years' War when Croatian mercenaries serving in France wore small, knotted neckerchiefs as part of their uniform. These neckerchiefs caught the eye of the French, leading to the adoption and gradual evolution of the accessory among the European aristocracy. Known initially as the cravat, it underwent various transformations, becoming a staple of men’s fashion by the 18th and 19th centuries.

The Evolution of Tie Styles

Over the centuries, ties have evolved through numerous styles, reflecting broader changes in fashion and society. The early cravat paved the way for the ascot, a formal tie popularized in the 19th century, characterized by its wide, scarf-like appearance and elaborate knot. The late 19th and early 20th centuries saw the emergence of the bow tie and the long tie, precursors to the modern necktie. The bow tie, with its distinctive bow shape, became associated with formal attire, while the long tie evolved into the sleek, streamlined accessory familiar today.

The 20th century witnessed further diversification in tie designs, with the advent of new materials, patterns, and widths. The 1920s to the 1940s, for instance, saw ties becoming broader and more colorful, reflecting the exuberant spirit of the times. The post-war era, in contrast, favored narrower and more subdued ties, aligning with the more conservative fashion sensibilities of the period.

The Significance of Ties in Professional and Social Settings

Ties have long been associated with professionalism, authority, and respectability. In the professional realm, wearing a tie signifies adherence to dress codes and conveys a sense of seriousness and competence. Ties are often mandatory in corporate settings, legal courts, and formal events, underscoring their role in establishing a professional demeanor.

Beyond the workplace, ties serve as a medium for personal expression and style. The choice of tie—be it the color, pattern, or material—allows men to express their individuality and fashion sense. Ties can communicate confidence, creativity, and even one's mood, making them a powerful tool for non-verbal communication.

The Tie as a Cultural Symbol

Ties also holds cultural significance, serving as symbols of affiliation, tradition, and identity. In many schools and organizations, ties are part of the official uniform, fostering a sense of belonging and unity among members. Ties can also denote membership in professional associations, clubs, and fraternities, acting as markers of one's social and professional circles.

Furthermore, ties have a place in ceremonial and formal occasions, such as weddings, funerals, and state functions, where they signify respect and solemnity. In these contexts, ties are more than mere fashion accessories; they are integral to the rituals and traditions that define human societies.

The Future of Ties in Men's Fashion

The relevance and popularity of ties have fluctuated with changing fashion trends and shifts in societal attitudes toward formal wear. In recent years, the rise of business casual and the increasing acceptance of casual wear in professional settings have led some to question the future of the tie. However, ties continue to hold a unique place in men's fashion, adapting to contemporary styles while retaining their classic appeal.

Emerging trends in men's fashion indicate a resurgence of interest in ties, with designers experimenting with new materials, textures, and patterns. Ties made from sustainable fabrics, for example, cater to the growing demand for eco-friendly fashion, while innovative designs and unconventional patterns appeal to younger generations seeking to stand out.

Conclusion: A Timeless Accessory with Enduring Appeal

From its humble beginnings as a military accessory to its status as a staple of men’s fashion, the tie has traversed a remarkable sartorial journey. Its evolution reflects broader historical, cultural, and social trends, showcasing the tie's adaptability and enduring significance. Whether worn as a mark of professionalism, a statement of style, or a symbol of tradition, ties remain an indispensable accessory in men's wardrobes.

[upcycledsilkscarves]

Silk Elegance 101: Mastering the Basics of Scarf Fashion

Silk Scarves have long been synonymous with elegance and sophistication in the world of Craft Bazaar fashion. The timeless allure of these luxurious accessories transcends trends, making them a staple in every fashion enthusiast's wardrobe. In this guide, we delve into the world of silk scarves, exploring their history, versatile styling options, and the undeniable charm they bring to any outfit. Get ready to elevate your fashion game with "Silk Elegance 101."

The Allure of Silk Scarves

Silk scarves have a rich history dating back centuries, originating in ancient China. Initially worn as a symbol of nobility, silk quickly became synonymous with luxury and refinement. Today, the allure of silk scarves lies in their unmatched softness, sheen, and versatility.

Understanding Silk Fabrics

To truly appreciate silk scarves, it's essential to understand the different silk fabrics available. Mulberry silk, known for its fine texture and durability, is the most common type used for scarves. Charmeuse silk offers a glossy finish, while chiffon silk provides a lightweight and sheer option. Understanding these variations empowers you to choose the perfect silk scarf for any occasion.

Versatile Styling Options

One of the most appealing aspects of silk scarves is their versatility in styling. Whether draped around your neck, tied as a headband, or adorned on a handbag, silk scarves effortlessly enhance any ensemble. Experiment with various knots, folds, and wraps to discover your signature style.

Classic Knots for Timeless Elegance

The timeless elegance of silk scarves is exemplified through classic knots. The Parisian Knot exudes sophistication, while the Ascot Knot brings a touch of vintage charm. Mastering these classic knots ensures you're always ready to add a dash of elegance to your outfit.

Silk Scarves as Statement Pieces

Silk scarves are more than just accessories; they are statement pieces that can elevate your entire look. Bold prints, vibrant colors, and intricate patterns make silk scarves the focal point of any ensemble. Use them to add a pop of color to a neutral outfit or as a complement to an already vibrant look.

Seasonal Transitions with Silk Scarves

Silk scarves seamlessly transition between seasons. In colder months, drape a silk scarf over your shoulders for added warmth and style. As the weather warms, opt for lighter, breezier silk scarves to accessorize your spring and summer outfits. The adaptability of silk scarves makes them a year-round essential.

The Art of Mix and Match

Silk scarves offer endless possibilities for mix-and-match styling. Experiment with contrasting patterns, textures, and colors to create a unique and personalized look. Don't be afraid to pair a floral silk scarf with a striped top or layer different-sized scarves for a dynamic effect. The key is to let your creativity shine through.

Caring for Your Silk Scarves

To ensure the longevity of your silk scarves, proper care is essential. Handwashing with a gentle detergent and air-drying are recommended to preserve the delicate fibers. Avoid exposing your silk scarves to direct sunlight for extended periods and keep them away from rough surfaces that may snag the fabric. With the right care, your silk scarves will remain a timeless addition to your wardrobe.

Investing in Quality

When it comes to silk scarves, quality is paramount. Investing in well-crafted, high-quality silk ensures a luxurious feel and long-lasting durability. While there are more affordable options available, a premium silk scarf is an investment that pays off in terms of both style and longevity.

Conclusion: Timeless Elegance with Silk Scarves

In conclusion, mastering the basics of silk scarf fashion opens the door to a world of timeless elegance and versatile styling. From classic knots to bold statement pieces, silk scarves are more than accessories – they are expressions of personal style. Embrace the luxurious allure of silk, experiment with various styling options, and let your silk scarf become the pièce de résistance of your wardrobe. With "Silk Elegance 101," you're well on your way to mastering the art of silk scarf fashion.

[poshfind]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Lands' End Oversized Paisley Print Silk Scarf Wrap in Fall Burgundy.

[virginiablossoms]

4 Stylish Ways to Wear a Scarf by Virginia Blossoms

When it comes to accessories, silk scarves are a wardrobe essential, adding a touch of luxury to any outfit. Their versatility allows for various styling options, elevating a simple tee and jeans or bringing glamour to a formal gown. Beyond fashion, scarves are a travel-friendly secret, expanding your wardrobe without weighing down your luggage. Despite their potential, many of us haven't explored different ways to wear scarves. Let's embark on a scarf styling journey together. Read on to uncover new and chic ways to tie your ladies' scarves.

Master 4 Stylish Techniques for Wearing a Silk Scarf

Discover countless ways to effortlessly style a silk scarf, tailoring it to match your individual taste. Whether draped, tied, or twisted, a silk scarf effortlessly brings a touch of luxury to any ensemble. Unleash your creativity and enjoy experimenting with fresh styles!

Check out the video above 👆🏼 for a visual guide to all the looks demonstrated. You can also find detailed descriptions of each style in the blog post below. Embrace the versatility of scarves – there are endless cool ways to elevate your fashion game.

 1. Wrap a Silk Scarf on Your Shoulders.

For a touch of glam or to stay warm on breezy summer nights, go for a long rectangular scarf draped over your shoulders. Simply tie a loose knot on one end, loop the other end through, and drape it comfortably. Adjust the length and width, then tighten the knot for a secure look. Note: Despite the lavender color, the scarf maintains the same rectangular shape as the next three styles.

2. Iconic Style: Rock the Knotted Scarf Look

Ever wondered how to rock an oblong scarf? This easy and versatile style, seen on Acne Studios runways, is the answer. Elevate any outfit with a hint of flair and a splash of color. Feeling cozy or aiming for a chic touch? Experiment with a French knot to add warmth to your neck or jazz up your casual T-shirt effortlessly.

3. The Headband

Transform your look effortlessly with this stylish scarf trick. Take a large square scarf, fold it diagonally, and grip it at the halfway point. Position it on your forehead, tie a snug double knot like a headband, and neatly tuck it beneath your hair for a polished finish. For an added touch of elegance, drape it around your bun.

Embrace creativity by experimenting with it as a bow tie, a waist wrap, or even a belt. Whether it's a breezy day or you're chasing a summer vibe, scarves are your ultimate style companion. Explore more chic scarf ideas on our blog. The allure of silk scarves lies not only in their versatility but also in their travel-friendly and low-maintenance nature. Throw a vibrant or patterned silk scarf into your bag for an instant style boost on your next journey. Dive into diverse scarf styles and relish the joy of experimenting with your unique look!

4.  The Ascot

The Ascot style is perfect for keeping your neck snug on chilly winter nights. Fold your scarf in half lengthwise, tie it evenly around your neck, and loop the ends around each other. This creates a warm and snug scarf that will keep you cozy throughout the night. Play around with variations like a half knot or a simple neck loop, European style, for a stylish twist!

Elevate your outfit game with the timeless charm of scarves! Silk scarves, in particular, are the epitome of luxury, adding a splash of color and texture effortlessly. Dive into a world of endless styling possibilities – be it as a chic top, a funky foulard, or even a trendy short dress.

Silk Hair Scarves for Girls: An Elegant Statement with Virginia Blossoms

As we ride the scarf wave into 2023, anticipate more scarf-centric posts. Stay tuned for special post on how to rock those square silk scarves, a celebrity favorite season. Feeling inspired? Share your scarf styling adventures in the comments below and let's keep the conversation stylish!

[ykharido]

Looking for the best men's ascot tie for every occasion, you are on the right place. Ykar!do offering best quality ascot ties for your next formal, wedding, or gala event, try this fashionable, elegant, and individually hand-crafted necktie made in India, ORDER NOW!!

[anotherscrappile]

I made myself an ascot and now have too much power

[classyguide]

Pick the scarf knot you want to master

STYLE #1: ASCOT STYLE #2: PARISIAN KNOT STYLE #3: BUST WARMER STYLE #4: FOUR IN HAND

STYLE #1: ASCOT

📷Ascot knot

Wearing a scarf like a necktie: why not? The “ascot” style can cover part of the body and keep the neck warm at the same time, always sporting a touch of elegance.

This tie is perfect for formal occasions. Nothing prevents you from experimenting and proposing an ascot knot with even during more casual situations! On the other hand, style is also a constant redefinition of boundaries.

STYLE #2: PARISIAN KNOT

📷Parisian knot

A simple and effective way to wear a scarf in just a few seconds. Fold the scarf in two, wrap it around the neck and insert the two ends inside the loop. Adjust the length of your scarf as you prefer and decide whether to keep it under the coat or show it off. Perfect for medium and long length scarves.

STYLE #3: BUST WARMER

📷Bust warmer knot

When temperatures drop, the “Bust warmer” method is particularly useful. By creating a knot with the scarf behind the back, you will look elegant without feeling cold. You should create this look using a long but not too voluminous scarf, in order to wrap the body and follow its natural movements.

STYLE #4: FOUR IN HAND

📷Four in hand knot

If it’s really cold, how should you wear your scarf? Good news: you do not necessarily have to wear dozens of layers. A high quality scarf, if used wisely, can create a barrier from the cold and keep your style alive. Wear it with an equally elegant coat and try the “four in hand” knot, using a medium-long length model of scarf.

With Lanieri you to have tailor-made men’s garments and emphasize your look with exclusive accessories, all made in Italy. You can receive your tailored garments directly at home, ordering them online and taking measurements thanks to our simple tutorials.

[ladyfloriographist]

Descent of Man

[Image source]

Pairing: Commander Joseph Lawrence (The Handmaid’s Tale (TV)) x femme!Reader

Warnings: SPOILERS, Canon-Divergence, Non-Canon, Post Season 3, Repression, Oppression, Dystopic Future, Dystopian Themes, Older Man/Younger Woman, Mentions of Pregnancy, Mentions of Death, Traditional Gender Roles, Religious Extremism

XXXX

“Straighten your back, dear. Don’t slouch.”

“Yes, Aunt Lydia.”

You tighten your grip on the handle of your red leather suitcase as you walk up the concrete path that leads to Commander Joseph Lawrence’s front door. Nerves in your legs tingle back to life. The drive from the Red Center was long, and Aunt Lydia had counselled you to mind your patience when you’d grown restless. But now, as you make your way to the crescent-shaped steps, you can’t help but hope for even one minute more in the van.

The overcast sky looms grey and ominous overhead.

“Remember, the Commander is a very powerful man.” Aunt Lydia’s cane clacks on the concrete alongside your footsteps. “He is very well respected, Ofjoseph. This is quite the opportunity for you.”

“Yes, Aunt Lydia.”

The old Victorian becomes grander and more imposing with every step you take towards it. Your gaze lifts higher and higher: first floor, second storey, then dormers and a tower that let light into what must be the attic. Stonework and Roman arches over the windows and doors signal the age of the house—it has to be at least one hundred years old.

“He has suffered great losses recently, as you well know.”

“Yes, Aunt Lydia.” She had recited the story over and over—and made sure you could tell it back to her, too. Your and Aunt Lydia’s footsteps fall into stride along the concrete path, fast approaching the stairs up to the house.

“His dear Wife, Mrs Eleanor Lawrence—may God protect and keep her—and then his Handmaid, too.” The Aunt tuts. “Oh, that wretched girl. I’d had such hopes, Ofjoseph—but you won’t disappoint me so, will you, dear?”

“No, Aunt Lydia.” The knot in your gut tightens.

“No, good girl.” Aunt Lydia modestly raises her brown skirts to ascend the concrete steps with grace. “Posture,” she says pointedly, brow arched, looking back at you with an appraising, approving glance before she knocks on the large black front door.

Just before you bow your head to look to the concrete beneath your feet, your eye is caught by something to the right, attached to the burnt-orange bricks that make up the gloriously antiquated home.

It’s a black wooden plaque, with three golden numerals in the centre framed by a golden ovoid ring.

132

You glance down quickly. You should not even be making an attempt to read, whether it be letters or numbers or anything. If Aunt Lydia saw recognition register on your face, she’d march you straight back to the van to return you to the Red Center for the swift removal of one of your fingers.

Leniency, for your first offence.

“The Commander has been very gracious in accepting you, Ofjoseph. You have a privileged place here.”

“Yes, Aunt Lydia. Praise be.”

“Mm,” Aunt Lydia hums in righteous agreement. “Praise be.”

…But still, it strikes you as unusual, as you stare at the grey concrete, that such a plaque should even exist, now. Such decorative tiles are relics from the time before Gilead—forbidden, now, and what’s more, utterly useless. How could such an inscribed plate remain intact when there are no more street signs to direct your way let alone numbered houses?

The front door swings open, shocking you out of your thoughts.

“Blessed day. Come in, Aunt Lydia.”

A female voice. Younger? Deferential.

A Martha: one of the two you’d been told to expect here.

“Blessed day, Sienna, thank you,” Aunt Lydia replies pleasantly. “Come along, Ofjoseph,” she says promptly, without a look back at you as she steps inside.

The interior of the Commander’s house greets you like, once, a warm hug might have done. Off the foyer is two sitting rooms, and they seem dark, but not sinister inside. The walls are papered with cranberry-red brocade and muted-toned, aging florals, or else—painted with rich, deep hues of colour. Dark-stained wood pocket doors with etched glass inserts lead to one sitting room and an archway with a stained-glass transom at the top leads to another. The heavy, patterned curtains inside make the sitting rooms feel cosy and private—even, dare you think, warm. Full and ornate bookshelves, rugs of paisley and Persian patterns, and an abundance of leather seating furnish the cluttered rooms.

“This way, please,” offers the Martha named Sienna, gesturing through the open pocket doors.

You follow Aunt Lydia, your eyes struggling to adequately absorb every detail of the room. Lamps on side tables, artworks from many different Schools arranged effortlessly on the walls, chests, sculptures, a chandelier, a fireplace.

Cushions and blankets strewn over the leather couches. Stacks of books lazing on armchairs.

An old, freestanding record player in one corner.

Knowledge, art, and music all reside here.

The house is lived in. Still. Even now.

“Can I getcha a tea, some coffee, Aunt Lydia?” comes a man’s voice from the far end of the room.

Before you can think better of it, your gaze snaps to the sound of his voice—relaxed, even casual in tone. He stands just inside another arched opening, hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers. A generous head of ghost-white hair tops his head. He has thick grey brows and a white beard peppered with silver and grey. Thin-framed glasses rest on the bridge of his nose. He wears a waistcoat, and a buttoned vest with a scarf tied like a cravat, in an ascot knot.

It’s the first you’ve seen a man of Gilead not dressed in a black suit and black tie.

“Commander Lawrence,” Aunt Lydia smiles, with only a slight waver in her voice. “Blessed day, Sir.” Your raised wings catch in her periphery and she glances at you with beady eyes.

You drop your head immediately, quickly and quietly pretending like you’d been studying the many colours in the Persian rug beneath your brown boots.

The Commander’s gaze flicks to you—not that you see it—before he looks back at the Aunt. “Hi, yeah,” he says, “blessed, good morning.” He calls down the hallway, “Sienna?”

You shift on your feet, tightening your grip on your own gloved hands where they rest in front of you. The Commander’s casual, informal, incorrect greeting stirs a sense of unease in your stomach. Was he merely distracted or… wilfully disrespectful? Could you even think such a thing, about a man like him?

Beside you, Aunt Lydia bristles, drawing in a sharp, quiet gasp. But she settles herself quickly.

“Sienna!?” calls the Commander again, louder this time before turning back to his guests.

Well, his one guest, who brought with her the newest member of his household.

“’d you say coffee, Aunt Lydia? I think Beth made scones.”

“Ah…” the Aunt hesitates, gathering herself in a way you’ve rarely seen her need to do. “Oh my. Tea would be a delight, Commander,” she recovers. “No need to waste your delicacies on me!”

“Hm,” Commander Lawrence huffs a mirthless laugh in response to Aunt Lydia’s self-deprecating smile, and the resulting silence is broken by a set of hurried footsteps that quickly enter the room.

“You called for me, Commander?”

The young Martha, her rich brown eyes wide, a sheen of sweat making her warm-brown skin glow, her voice slightly breathless.

“Auhm, yeah,” says Commander Lawrence, swivelling to address her. “Tea, please, Sienna—and bring three cups, would ya? Some of Beth’s scones, too.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Three cups?

“Thanks.”

“Three?”

Aunt Lydia’s incredulous voice cuts through the room like a warm knife in soft butter. It’s so abrupt, so much shriller than you are used to that your gaze flicks upwards.

The Aunt’s round, wrinkled face is dropped in an expression of pure shock. The room is silent, even Sienna’s retreating footsteps have ceased, as the three of you look between each other—stunned in the face of this blatant and brazen flouting of Gilead-sanctioned decorum.

It seems, as tested as Aunt Lydia has been since arriving at the Commander’s house, that this act of hospitality extended to you, a Handmaid, is the extent of what she can handle.

For the first time since meeting him, you spot a hint of a smile flicker across Commander Lawrence’s face, as elusive as the passing of a shadow, or a ghost. “Three, Lydia,” he says quietly, with a self-assured confidence that dares her to question him further—especially since he refused to use her title.

The air is thick with tension. You hold your breath.

Aunt Lydia’s lower lip quivers as she searches for words. Her brow creases, her small eyes flitting between his as she holds the Commander’s gaze.

You hear her suck in a breath before she speaks again.

“Th-hank you, Commander Lawrence.” Aunt Lydia swallows. “Praise be, you are most generous, Sir.”

Everything breathes again. Footsteps recede down the hall once more, the walls themselves sigh with relief. For a moment you almost think you hear birdsong outside—but that’s next to impossible, over all the radio chatter.

“Welcome,” the Commander replies, lazily omitting words in his speech once more. His tone is breezily self-assured once again, but his dark eyes have hardened into a cold stare. He turns his gaze on you. “Sit.”

You look to the floor so quickly there’s a twinge in your neck, and you drop into the nearest seat. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Under His Eye, Sir.”

“Alright,” the Commander cringes at your nervous rambling. “No problem, just, yeah. Siddown.”

You clasp your gloved hands together in your lap, your eyes fixed on the tiny balls of lint that have gathered near the seams. Everything about this man, from his clothes, to his manner, to his home, is contrary to what you’d been told to expect.

“Please,” says the Commander to Aunt Lydia, gesturing and offering for her to take a seat also. He walks around one of the armchairs, picks up a stack of three books and unceremoniously drops them on top of the existing stack on a nearby side table so he can sit down, too.

Aunt Lydia, frazzled and just barely recovering from the disrespect afforded her by the Commander, uneasily sits down on one of the brown leather couches. She sits like she’s perching on it, not quite setting down all her weight, on an angle to take up only the smallest possible amount of space.

She clears her throat. “Commander,” she forces a smile, shifting to face him, “it is my great hope that Ofjoseph will bring some,” she pauses, anxiously looking around at the many artworks and stacks of books that decorate the room, “stability, to your household, Sir. By His Hand.”

“Thanks,” says Commander Lawrence. “’ppreciate it.”

“I…” Aunt Lydia stammers again, stumbling over the Commander’s audacious disregard for social custom. It’s unorthodox—or rather, much worse—it’s a deliberate, transparent, shameless violation of his role as a Commander in the Republic of Gilead.

Lost for words, Aunt Lydia merely nods her head in deference. Her fingers flex around the gilded handle of her cane.

The Commander hums to clear his throat as Sienna brings a laden tray into the room. One teapot, three teacups, a plate of scones, and one small ramekin of butter.

The Martha sets it all down on the coffee table and the porcelain rattles softly in the stifling silence.

“Thanks, Sienna,” says Commander Lawrence, leaning forward to pour himself a cup of tea as the younger Martha leaves the room. “Hey, uh,” he sits back in his armchair, cup and saucer in hand, “you.”

You feel his eyes on you. This is how he chooses to address you? To draw your attention to him? ‘You’?

The stillness in the room is expectant, now. You tell yourself to lift your head.

“Ofjoseph?” Aunt Lydia prompts you.

Commander Lawrence speaks over the top of her. “Look at me.”

You lift your gaze to meet his. There’s nothing hard or soft in his stare, nothing warm or cold in the way he regards you. He merely sees you—his eyes observing, his lips in a line that neither smiles nor frowns.

He’s a wall, but built to defend or protect, you can’t read right now.

“My last Handmaid was a bit of a rabble-rouser,” he says easily, his voice nonchalant, “so I'm gonna say to you the same thing I said to her, ‘kay?”

You swallow, absorbing his candour. Aunt Lydia had told you never to speak of the last Ofjoseph, even if it was asked of you. But this particular question posed by the Commander requires more than a passive response. You get the sense that a number of conversations with him will be like this, and so you steel yourself to speak with a clear voice. “Yes, Commander.”

He keeps his gaze locked with yours, and brings his steaming teacup to his lips. He takes a slow sip, eyes trained on yours, and you resist the urge to shrink and shrivel into yourself.

The Commander swallows and sets his cup onto the saucer. It clinks, and after letting the small sound land for beat he says lowly, “You’re not gonna be any trouble, are you?”

Your breath catches, your voice stalling in your throat. Staring at him heats your blood, makes your palms perspire in your gloves. The man is dignified; he holds himself almost regally wherever he sits or stands. Is it the power he holds that makes him handsome, or is innate attraction purling in the pit of your gut?

…What will the Ceremony be like with him?

“No, Sir,” you say, your voice so soft it cracks. You gulp and collect yourself. Timidity does not seem to be a quality Commander Lawrence respects—another lesson you’d ardently learned only to be proven useless in his house. With more confidence, but not too much, particularly for Aunt Lydia’s benefit, you say, “Praise be to you, Commander, and may He make me truly worthy.”

You can feel Aunt Lydia’s presence lift with pride. You can see the smile spread across her face without needing to look at her, and can hear her words in your head without her needing to speak them.

‘Very good, dear,’ comes the Aunt’s voice in your mind.

The Commander looks you over, stoic as ever. “Ya,” is all he says in reply.

“Ofjoseph is one of our most promising Handmaids, Commander, allow me to assure you,” Aunt Lydia chimes in, now, finally, feeling on equal footing again. “Since the horrendous tragedies that your household has withstood, we thought it right and just that you be unburdened in at least this regard, Sir.”

“Unburdened?” the Commander replies flatly, his stalwart gaze now fixed on the Aunt.

You’re not sure whether you can look away from him. Does he wish for your eyes to remain on him? Does he expect you to look at him and from him at your own discretion? Would he like you to use your own judgement?

Regardless, it is clear that the decision of the Red Center Aunts to provide a pious, docile new Handmaid as consolation for his wife’s death is—at the very best—unappreciated by the Commander.

But whether or not Commander Lawrence appreciates the gesture and the gift that the Aunts have made you into is, ultimately, not your concern. Your first and last and only priority is that you fall pregnant with Commander Lawrence’s child as soon as humanly possible—or it’s the Colonies for you.

However, you being his sixth Handmaid, the Commander needs you to fall pregnant with his child just as quickly—given, especially, the sudden exodus of most of Gilead’s children seemingly overnight.

“Forgive me, Commander,” Aunt Lydia frowns, her eyes softening apologetically. “I only meant—”

“’s fine,” he interrupts, setting his cup and saucer back on the tray. “Tea’s gone cold, anyway,” the Commander stands from his seat and straightens his waistcoat, clearing his throat. “You can find your way out, Aunt Lydia?”

“Certainly, Sir,” Aunt Lydia assures him, mirroring his movement and standing from the sofa, somewhat uneasily on her injured leg. On instinct, you rise to your feet too.

“Til next time,” the Commander says, his voice laced with sarcastic fondness, as he strolls from the room and into what must be his private study. He doesn’t spare you a single backwards glance as he pulls another set of pocket doors closed behind him.

Silence settles over the sitting room like night.

Just like that, the visit concludes, and the realisation washes over you.

You’re not leaving with Aunt Lydia, when she goes, which she’s sure to do in just a moment.

This is it. The transaction is complete.

Your place is here. This house is now your home.

“I’ll be back the day after the Ceremony, dear,” Aunt Lydia says, leaning on her cane to stand. “In about, oh!” she pauses, looks at you with bright eyes, “seven days! Oh, sacred number. Blessings, Ofjoseph. May God bring forth His miracle.”

You muster a smile for her. Despite how this woman screamed at you, berated you, withheld your food and your sleep and denigrated your sense of self until you believed you were worth nothing more than being impregnated and delivering a healthy baby, her absence from your daily routine will be an adjustment.

You say, “Under His Eye, Aunt Lydia.”

She cups your cheek. “Under His Eye, dear.”

The Aunt makes her way to the door, met by Sienna and the second Martha, Beth, who stand in the foyer to see her off. The front door closes behind Aunt Lydia, and as soon as the latch locks it’s as if a dark, heavy storm cloud lifts from the house.

The Marthas sigh and relax, chattering eagerly and bickering animatedly about tonight’s dinner and even complaining about the Commander’s fussiness as they strut down the hallway to the kitchen. From the other side of the house, you hear a flare of music go up: some kind of Big Band era song, with trumpets and tubas and horns playing vivace—lively and fast.

The sun peeks out from behind the shroud of overcast sky, lighting up the sitting rooms with the glow of mid-afternoon.

You take a breath.

This old house feels alive.

[hellzeldagirlsfanfic]

A Blue Devil’s Valentine

The cold nip in the air had become a bite as darkness approached. Thick flakes of snow started to fall from the grey sky above, landing on the bustling streets below. Falling onto the happy couples on their way to celebrate Valentine’s Day with each other.

(F/N) watched them with envy as she had to spend another Valentine’s Day alone. Her boyfriend was much more focus on his endless quest for power than her.

The (H/C)-haired woman shoved her face into her woollen scarf as she walked passed all the happy couples on the street.

‘I need a drink,’ (F/N) thought as she trekked passed another sparkling shop with a lovely Valentine’s Day display.

The walk to the pub was short. The pub was surprisedly quiet when the woman entered the building. The usual regulars sat at their table at the centre of the pub. A couple of men and some gloomy women sitting at the bar.

(F/N) made her way to the bar to order a beer for herself. Once she got her beer she moved to a booth to quietly drink.

Three pints later, (F/N) felt a bit of buzz from the alcohol. She happily sat there thinking about what to get for dinner.

‘A Chinese sounds nice’ She thought as she nursed her last pint.

“Hello there,” A male voice said to her.

Her (E/C) eyes looked up to find a man maybe a little bit older than her. He was dressed in trendy clothes, she could smell his strong cologne from her side of the table.

“May I help you?” (F/N) asked.

A smirk appeared across his face as he eyed her up.

“What’s a beautiful lady like you doing alone on this day?” He asked back.

‘Oh, he’s a player,’ (F/N) realised.

This man was most likely hitting on unfortunate ladies who didn’t have a partner to spend Valentine with. Unfortunately for this guy, she did have a boyfriend, who she wasn’t about to cheat on.

The (H/C)-haired woman downed the rest of her pint before gathering her things.

“Not interested,” (F/N) told him as she moved to gather her things.

The man looked shocked at her rebuttal but once he realised that she was leaving, he rushed to block her from leaving.

“Come on babe,” He whispered to her. “You don’t have to be ashamed that you couldn’t get a date for Valentine,” He quietly said, trying to get closer to (F/N).

“I have a boyfriend!” She hissed at the cunt.

“That’s what all the ladies say,” He smirked at her as he invaded her personal space.

“I’ll give you five seconds to back off or I will deck you,” (F/N) warned him.

“No need to be like that babe,” The man pushed.

(F/N) was about to raise her fist to punched the man but seemed like someone had beaten her to the punch.

The man was on the floor clutching his shoulder screaming in pain.

“Vergil?” (F/N) said as she saw her boyfriend standing in front of her.

Vergil had a furious look on his face. The half-demon reached out for his girlfriend, dragging her out of the pub.

“Vergil!” (F/N) exclaimed as Vergil pulled her. “What are you doing here!?”

“What were you doing there?” He questioned.

“I wanted a drink?” She told him.

“Why?”

“What? I-I don’t need a reason to go and have a drink!” She told him.

Vergil stopped walking at her answer. (F/N) stayed silent unsure what kind of mood he was in now.

He then suddenly turned around and pushed her into the alley that was nearby.

“Ver-” (F/N) shouted before Vergil swallowed it with a kiss.

His hands were already under her jumper, fondling her bra cladded breasts. Vergil pushed up the bra’s cup to play with her nipples.

“Vergil,” (F/N) moaned when Vergil parted from her mouth.

But it wasn’t long until Vergil pulled her into another heated kiss.

One of Vergil’s hands slipped down to her jeans and into her panties to play with her intimate area. His finger circled around her clit.

(F/N)’s moans and mewls become louder but were muffled by her boyfriend’s lips.

The half-demon moved from (F/N)’s lips to her neck, littering it with love bites and hickeys.

“Vergil!” The woman moaned loudly.

“You might want to be a bit more quiet dear or would you like an audience?” Said man teased her.

Her (E/C) eyes darted to the alley��s entrance, seeing all the people walking pass blissfully unaware what was happening in the alley.

Her clit was pinched which cause a squeak to leave (F/N)’s mouth.

(F/N) shot Vergil a dirty look as a smirk appeared on the devilish handsome’s face.

The woman tried her best to remain silent as her boyfriend moved his fingers from her clit to her cunt, teasingly circled around her opening. This earned him muffled whines from (F/N).

Vergil removed his head from her neck, he pulled up her jumper exposing her breasts to the frigid air. The frigid air caused her nipples to become stiff. Vergil’s lips wrapped around one of those stiffen buds, gently sucking earning more muffled moans. As his mouth was devouring her nipple, Vergil pushed two fingers into the (H/C)-haired woman.

“Are you enjoying this, my love?” He mockingly asked, looking up from her boobs.

“Vergil!” (F/N) whined as she felt herself coming close to cumming.

“What is it, my love?” He asked, detaching his lips from her breasts.

“I want… want you inside of me,” She mumbled.

“What was that?” He whispered into her ear.

“I want your cock inside of me,” She told him.

Vergil pulled away from (F/N) then turned her around, pushing her against the wall she just had her back against. He pulled her jeans down along with her panties revealing how wet she was to Vergil and the world.

Vergil unfastened his belt, releasing his hard cock from the confines of his tight leather trousers.

The half-demon rubbed his cock against her leaking cunt to tease her a little a bit more before he entered her.

(F/N) tried to hold in her shameless moan when her boyfriend entered her, whilst Vergil let out a deep growl when he entered the familiar warmth of (F/N)’s tight cunt.

The half-demon started his thrusting fast not allowing his girlfriend anytime to adjust.

“Vergil,” (F/N) shamelessly moaned unable to hold it in anymore.

Vergil pressed his chest to her back as he leant forward so his hands could play with her breast and clit.

“You’re not being quiet are you,” Vergil told her.

“I don’t fucking care anymore” (F/N) curse at Vergil. “Just hurry up,” She demanded.

“So impatient,” Vergil laughed.

Vergil continued to brutally thrust into (F/N), bringing them both closer to their orgasm.

(F/N) felt Vergil’s hand leave her breast. It moved to her face turning it to the side so he could kiss her as well as swallow all of her lovely moans.

The knot in (F/N)’s stomach was tightening. It kept tightening until it snapped.

Her scream was swallowed by the kiss.

Vergil wasn’t far behind her. He released inside of her.

When the young man had withdrawn from his partner he quickly pulled her panties and jeans so his leaking cum would soak them.

The couple took a few minutes to clean themselves up and adjust their clothing.

“What was that about?” (F/N) enquired.

Vergil didn’t answer his girlfriend, just focus on tidying his ascot.

The (H/C)-haired woman let out a huffed.

“Jealous or something?” She asked.

The half-demon let out a huff of his own.

“Maybe I am annoyed that my girlfriend went out drinking by herself,” He answered.

“Well all of my friends are busy celebrating Valentine’s Day with their partners,” (F/N) told him.

“Valentine’s Day…” Vergil echoed. “That’s today?”

“Yeah, and has been for the last one thousand four hundred years,” She sarcastically told him.

The white-haired man had a strange aura around him as he looked to the entrance of the alley to see a shop’s Valentine’s Day display.

“I see,” Vergil mumbled.

Vergil turned to face (F/N). He held his arm out like a Victorian gentleman.

“I know this isn’t your ideal Valentine’s day date but would you like to spend the rest of your night with me?” He asked.

“Only if you buy dinner,” She smirked as she took his arm.

“What do you have in mind?” He asked as he guided them out of the alley.

“A Chinese,” She told him.

The two of them walked to (F/N)’s favourite Chinese restaurant before they returned to the woman’s flat, to enjoy their meal and each other company.

[princessanneftw]

Why Princess Anne was the muse for this new fashion collection

The collection that will cure all your withdrawal symptoms from The Crown

By Hikmat Mohammed, Fashion Features Assistant for The Telegraph

It is often said that Princess Anne is the royal family’s underappreciated style icon. Previously cast into the shadows by her more obviously glamorous relatives, in the past few years there has been a newfound appreciation for her unique flair for styling and frugal attitude, like re-wearing dresses nearly 40 years after their first outings.

Now, the Princess Royal’s influence has reached the moodboard of Italian fashion house, Philosophy di Lorenzo Serafini.

For his pre-Fall 2021 collection, shown this week, Serafini took the Princess’s early style as his inspiration. “I was a fan long before The Crown, so it was exciting to be able to finally showcase my admiration and dedicate a collection to her,” Serafini tells The Telegraph. “I particularly loved her approach to fashion. Her effortless looks seem to capture what we all crave even today: comfort, quality and a sense of joy”.

It was Anne’s equestrian career which particularly stood out for Serafini. “I uncovered beautiful images of the Princess in the countryside or at horse trial events,” he said, adding that he had used material sourced in the UK for the tartans and Aran sweaters which feature in the collection.

The diamond pattern used on one jumper resembles the silks worn by the Princess Royal whilst riding on Diamond Day at Ascot in 1987 while another look comprises a silk scarf knotted under the chin worn with a khaki dress, both hallmarks of Anne’s practical yet smart aesthetic. Serafini said he immersed himself in vintage scarves and British landmarks to create the prints used in the collection.

With country life more in vogue than ever since the pandemic began, it is perhaps no surprise that Serafini chose this moment to celebrate the Princess Royal. It was an idea the designer had already begun to explore, featuring wellington boots in his last collection after taking up walking while spending lockdown at his family’s countryside house in Emilia Romagna, Italy. He also ‘adored’ the Barbours and wellies worn by Erin Doherty as a young Anne in The Crown.

It isn’t only the Princess’s equestrian looks which Serafini incorporates in the collection. There are also nods to some of her most famous eveningwear, including a maxi-length white dress with the frilling and ruching which was so on-trend in her Seventies and Eighties heyday and a bright tartan dress, ideal for the Ghillies Ball at Balmoral.

Famed for her no-nonsense approach, the Princess Royal would presumably give short shrift to the idea of herself as a fashion muse. But if she did want to recreate some of the images which inspired Serafini’s, she has no doubt kept it all.

[timelordthirteen]

In All Things 24/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: Gold and Belle have their dance, and after, a quiet chat.

Notes: IT HAS BEEN 84 YEARS. At least it feels like it. Pretty sure 2020 was like 84 years in a trench coat. Writing was so hard the last few months both because of the state the world, and because work literally went batshit crazy starting in September. But, this is a new year and I feel sort of renewed. No, much about the world hasn't changed magically with the flip of a calendar, yet there is a hopeful vibe to everything. We've seen the bottom and we survived it. Thank you to all who commented on this and any of my fics last year. Rereading comments were sometimes all I had to get me by. <3 I hope you enjoy the start of the never ending sexual tension train that this fic is about to become. ;) You're all going to hate me so much. This is Belle’s dress, for those who are interested.

[AO3]

Belle’s head felt like it was spinning as much as her body.

They came to the end of the room, nearer to the music and the fire, and she felt a flash of the heat as Gold stepped to the side and turned them again. Of course it was tradition for the lord of the estate to start things by leading the first dance, and she should have expected that as his wife she was the obvious and only choice for that, yet she had been momentarily startled when he’d asked. Fortunately, she had recovered and taken his hand in time that nothing appeared outwardly awkward or impolite.

He had quietly suggested a simple waltz, which was quite amenable to Belle. She had remembered the steps adequately for the few seconds they had been dancing, but she was grateful that it was at a slower pace than was typically favored for holidays and festivals. She presumed that was due to his leg which had a tendency to ache after too much movement, and the last thing she would want was for him to be in pain simply because of a dance.

She could feel the warmth of his hand as it held hers and the gentle pressure of the other at her waist; neither was not too tight or too loose, but reassuring and steady. Apart from the impulsive hug she’d given him while they were in Avonlea, it was the only time she had touched him this much. It felt strange, but also oddly comfortable, as if they did this every festival and season at the royal court.

Perhaps we will, she thought. They would need to at least appear to the world as though they were married, even if it was strictly a legal formality. The thought of more dances and social gatherings made her stomach dip, and she let out a shaky breath, wishing she’d had a little more wine to calm her nerves.

Belle’s eyes were fixed on the knot of Gold’s ascot, afraid to look anywhere else lest she forget which foot needed to move next, when she felt him stop. Her momentum carried her back and away from him, his hand slipping from its perch high on her waist as he raised their joined hands up over her head. The motion spun her around, sending her skirt flaring outward at her ankles and butterflies scattering in her stomach. She gasped as she came back towards him, her free hand bracing against his chest.

She let out a giggle of surprise and finally met his eyes, which seemed to sparkle with mutual delight, and she smiled as she moved her arm up to his shoulder.

“There you are,” he said, stepping smoothly to the side and guiding her along as if they hadn’t paused at all. “You seemed preoccupied.”

“Sorry,” she replied, her eyes drifting down the gold stitching of his coat. “I was concentrating so I didn’t step on your toes.”

“Oh, you did that several minutes ago. Hardly hurt at all.”

Belle’s eyes went wide, and as her mouth began to gape open, Gold laughed softly. “I’m teasing.”

She swatted her palm against his shoulder playfully as he spun them around the far end of the room. The moment had lightened considerably, and she felt her muscles relax, and the steps of the dance become automatic. “It has been ages since I’ve danced. I feel out of practice.”

“As do I,” he agreed, a light smirking pulling at his lips. “I don’t make a habit of attending balls.”

She laughed lightly at that, pleased that they seem to agree on that matter. While they would still be seen at occasions together, she did not fear being trotted out for every ball and party in the kingdom.

“Thank you for the dresses,” she said after a long moment.

He smiled. “You’re very welcome.”

“I wasn’t sure which to wear for the evening,” she admitted. “They were all so wonderful.”

Gold’s hand tightened around hers ever so slightly, and she looked up, meeting his eyes. They were soft and warm, and she felt her head spinning again as they made one last round past the musicians.

His throat bobbed above the scarf at his neck as he swallowed and said, “I’m glad you chose the blue.”

Her lips curved and she returned his faint squeeze with one of her own, her hands tensing briefly against both his hand and shoulder.

“It’s my favorite color,” she replied, and felt the hand at her waist shift, pulling her a little bit closer. The song began its conclusion, the pace of the violins slowing, and her head turned one way and then the other, catching only glimpses of the faces watching them. “Everyone is staring at us.”

“No,” he said softly, and she gave him a look. “They’re staring at you.” Her eyes widened, and he seemed to sense her discomfort and smiled reassuringly. “Not that I can blame them; you’re the most beautiful woman in the room.”

Belle’s breath caught, but before she could think of a response, the music ended, the horns fading as the strings played out the last few notes. They came to a stop almost exactly where they had started, in the middle of the room where there was a pattern of inlaid squares in walnut and cherry. Gold caught her eyes with his, right before she felt her body dip backwards. She let herself bend against his arm, his hand firmly splayed at her back, trusting that he wouldn’t let her fall.

It was no more than a second that he held her before he was pulling her upright, the movement as smooth and sure as their dance had been. Her right hand was still in his, her other gripping his arm lightly, and when she looked up, he was gazing down at her with an expression she couldn’t read. Her head felt light again, which she thought must have been from bending and straightening so quickly. She blinked, and inexplicably her eyes drifted down, realizing that his face was quite close to hers, so close that she could feel his breath on her skin.

Light clapping startled Belle and she stepped away, slipping her hand from Gold’s as they turned to face their audience. She found Astrid’s face in the crowd, beaming widely at her, and kept her eyes fixed on her friend as Gold walked them back to their table.

She dropped into her chair, immediately reaching for her glass of wine as several couples stood up and made their way out onto the floor. The music started up again, and she exhaled what felt like a breath she’d held too long. Her lungs seemed to burn and the lightheadedness persisted for several minutes, until Astrid came bounding over with Ruby and the two of them filled the space with idle conversation and gossip. She only half paid attention to it, her eyes following Gold as he made his way around the room to more intimately greet his guests.

The rest of the evening passed in what Belle would describe as a festive blur. Her face hurt from smiling almost as much as her feet hurt from dancing, and she smiled as she wiggled her toes against the plush rug. Her shoes sat to the side on the wood floor between the edge of the rug and the wall, discarded before they could cause any blisters. The last of the guests were leaving in their carriages, or being directed to one of the many guest rooms, and she had taken the opportunity to steal away to the library. It was cool and dark, save for the candles on the mantle and the fire, exactly what she needed after so many hours of being sociable.

Sighing, she pressed her palm to the window overlooking the patio, and then laid it against the back of her neck. Her skin had felt almost feverish from her first dance with Gold all the way through her last with Jefferson. In the middle, she’d whirled around the room with Astrid, Ruby, Leroy, Baeden, and so many others, her head buzzing with wine and sweets. There had been one more dance with Gold towards the end, though it was a line dance where couples traded off partners. She was once again surprised when he asked her, and had feared it would be like their first dance, until she saw the others arranging themselves.

Gold came into the library just as she was pushing both of her hands against the glass and transferring the cold to either side of her neck.

“There you are.”

She twisted and looked over her shoulder with a smile, amused that he’d repeated his earlier words and wondering if he’d even noticed he’d done it. “Sorry, I just needed a minute.”

He nodded. “No matter.”

“Everyone settled?” she asked, pulling her hands away from her skin and rubbing them together to rewarm her fingers.

Another nod, and then he sighed. “Only three rooms in use tonight. Martha Lucas, Miss Lucas, and the Countess. Everyone else has gone home.”

Belle smiled again. “You have very interesting friends.”

His eyebrows lifted and he glanced at her sideways. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it. I apologize if Lady de Vil made you uncomfortable. She can be - an acquired taste.”

She laughed softly and turned to face him, her back towards the chill of the window, which still felt quite nice. “No, she’s - she’s very nice.” He gave her a look, and she added, “If a bit... intense, at times. I think I would like to know her better, as you do.”

Gold smiled at that and nodded. “I’m sure she’d be delighted.”

Silence settled between them as they watched the light snow falling outside, but Belle had the sense that something had changed. There had been something about their dance together, alone in the middle of the ballroom, which felt...significant. It was their first true public appearance as Lord and Lady of the estate, the first time so many people had been watching them, and that combined with what he’d said to her - you’re the most beautiful woman in the room - had left her feeling even more dazed than the wine.

What was stranger still was that she liked it.

“Did you - did you enjoy yourself this evening?” he asked, his voice quiet and almost wavering with uncertainty.

Belle glanced up at him and smiled. “Yes, very much. My feet might not share that opinion, however.”

Gold chuckled softly and nodded towards her empty shoes. “I think my leg agrees with your feet.”

She laughed at that and bent to pick them up, hooking her fingers in the heels. “I couldn’t bear them another minute.”

“I’m not one to judge,” he said. “If mine didn’t have so many laces I’d do the same.”

“Does it hurt much?” she asked, looking sideways at his leg. He wasn’t using his cane, which didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t in pain, just that he didn’t need it to walk.

Gold shrugged. “Some, but I’m sure Jefferson has already left something out for me to take before bed. I’ll be fine.”

“Good.”

Belle could feel sleep begin to pull at her, her shoes felt heavy in her hand, and her body had that telltale heavy sensation, growing the desire to sink into something soft like a sofa cushion or a mattress. She blinked and then a yawn forced its way up out of her that she only barely muffled with the back of her free hand.

“You should get to bed.”

She looked up at Gold, noticing not for the first time how even without her heels he was not too much taller than she was. When they danced her shoes had made her the perfect height, but even now, standing flat on her feet, she didn’t feel dwarfed by him as she had with Sir Gaston. It was strange to think of such a thing now, but it eased something inside her and made her feel as though with Cameron she was on equal footing. For the first time she felt that they could truly manage this strange marital arrangement, that they could be partners.

“So should you,” she said finally.

“Yes,” came his soft reply.

She turned to leave, but stopped when he said her name, so light it was almost a whisper, and met his eyes. They were as soft as they had been when he’d told her everyone in the room was staring at her. When he had told her she was beautiful. She swallowed and squeezed her fingers where they held her shoes.

“Thank you,” he said, giving her a small smile.

Her head tilted. “Whatever for?”

At that he shrugged and his grin widened, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I - I don’t know. For dancing with me. For - for being - here.”

She reached out with her free hand and found his hanging at his side. Their fingers slipped together easily, and she gave them a light squeeze. “Of course.” Then she returned his smile. “We should do it again sometime.”

At that he laughed again, and nodded, swinging their joined hands. “Next time I promise to give you fair warning before I spin you around.”

Belle bit her lip and looked down at their hands, replaying the moment in her mind and longing for the fluttering sensation in her belly again. “No,” she said, before lifting her eyes to meet his, “don’t.”

Gold grinned and raised their hands, his thumb brushing over the ring on her finger, the one he’d put there barely more than two months ago. He bent his head, and Belle held her breath as he pressed his lips to the gold band. It was reminiscent of their wedding, except they were quite alone and the touch of his mouth was firmer, lingering for far longer than the brief brush that had propelled them to this point.

“Good night, Belle.” He caught her gaze and held it over the knuckles of her hand before lowering it a moment later.

She felt his thumb move again, this time over the back of her hand before his fingers left her. “Good night,” she managed to say before hurrying from the room.

In the corridor, Belle set her shoes down and pushed her sore feet into them again, bracing against the doorway of the library. She looked back, briefly, to see Gold facing the window, his hands folded behind him, and then blew out a breath. The wine had made her mind too fuzzy, she decided, and it was best not to think too much about the evening’s events until the morning.

[mryseas]

Feeling stuck? Depressed, can't get out of bed? Can't get a job, hate your life and your friends and everything you stand for?

1. Stop being hard on yourself.

- I know you are your easiest target. Try not to get so down on yourself for what you view as "failure" or "shortcomings". No one has their life together. Everyone has problems, despite their array of social media posts. You are on this planet to live your life, not someone else's. You probably have an idea of what you look like as that successful vision of yourself. Take time to cultivate that. Research who you want to be like a project. What do you look like, what does your hair smell like, what do you always love to wear, how do you look, what do you like to do, what are you good at, what are you eating, where are you going, where are you working... DELVE into your own character and create the life you want.

2. Make your bed.

- or couch or floor or shopping cart. YOUR STATUS IN LIFE DOESN'T MATTER. The pride you have for the things you have, the care you take in preserving them and the simple act of choosing to do something for yourself first does! Even if its throwing a sheet over a mattress and tossing a pillow, make your freaking bed, because you're worth it ;)

3. *BRUSH *YOUR *TEETH*

- Get ready. If you feel clean you look clean. If you just cleaned your mouth you won't be ashamed to open it because you forgot to brush your teeth. If you want to be heard you have to use your voice which means you have to open your mouth and no one likes amoeba and coffee breath.

4. Get dressed!

- Put on the clothes you would wear today if your life were as together as you think it should be. What would the ideal you wear? Are you edgy and punk rock (plaid pants/ cropped tee/long sweater or leather jacket/frankenshoes aka combat boots), classy and elegant (dress and red wine? Idk, I'm none of these things) vintage and preppy (60s 50s fitted slacks, sweater top/ ascot/ top knot/ cat eyes) or business casual? Whatever the look you love, cultivate it and wear it as much as possible. If you don't have a job and are looking for one or are in a state of depression it is IMPERATIVE that you get up and get dressed for the day. It will have a lasting positive effect on your psyche and make you feel prepared for life and opportunity coming your way! If you work full time with a company dress code find ways to do your makeup, nails, or add accessories (hair scarf/ fit bit band/ jewelry) that show off your personal style of your dream look and wear your dream look or as close as you can get it when away from work at all times. Ditch the sweats and the jimjams for some clothes that personify you and give you some structure and a set up for a productive day.

5. Show up for yourself.

- This one is the most important, despite being lower case. By doing small things for yourself like making your bed, brushing your teeth, getting dressed, putting on make up, downloading your car playlist, making your lunch, drinking your water... whatever it is, you are showing your own conscious mind that you have got your back. You are parenting your inner child and loving who you are as a person by being there for you. Show up for yourself, you got this!

Please like, subscribe and share if you like this video and want more! @mryseas

[life]

From the July 24, 1944 fashion feature: "SCARF SUN CLOTHES—They are good for lounging but not practical for active sports." According to LIFE, "U.S. women this summer have discovered that a scarf is a wonderful thing. Knotted, twisted, folded or ingeniously pinned, it becomes a pair of shorts or a halter, skirt, sarong, belt, turn or bra...as a result scarf sales, which last year made a new high, have increased another 37% this year." This image ran in the feature with the following caption: "Two ascots are needed for making this halter-top bra. One ascot goes around neck and over chest and is tied at front. Other one holds first in place, is tied in back." (Nina Leen—The LIFE Picture Collection/Getty Images) #fashionfriday #1940sfashion #summer

[daeva-agas]

Another ikemen!!

Also, that rose on his ascot/scarf thing... I’m not sure if that is a pin or the super-pretentious flower-shaped tie knot, like woah.