#chantilly green

[knightsiscrabs]

noticed that the cardboard boba fett (cardboba) cut out post was still getting notes so heres an current pic of him + me standing next to him for scale. he's a solid 4'8" (~142cm) and im 5'8" (~183cm). he WAS going to wear the apron but its massive on him.

i had planned on making the matching din cut out today but alas, i have fallen ill! maybe tomorrow.

[zombiechantilly]

"Ana de las Tejas Verdes" en miniatura 💚

Puedes ver mi reseña completa de todos los libros de Anita en mi canal:

[paletapessoal]

Shawl, early 1850s, black Chantilly lace backed in sage green silk crepe

[curlyrps]

Boston Dining

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode nationale, no. 9, 6 mars 1897, Paris. No. 14. — Toilettes d'intérieur et de visites. Bibliothèque nationale de France

(1) Costume de visites en lainage vert amande. Corsage plat, orné sur le côté par un large galon ouvragé descendant jusqu'au bas de la jupe, même galon sur le dos, forme princesse; sur le corsage, grand col de guipure de Bruges, col montant en galon avec ruche au-dessus; manches Empire. Jupe princesse, ornée de galons. Chapeau rond en feutre noir garni par une draperie de satin, montante, du milieu de laquelle s'échappe une plume d'autruche en aigrette.

(1) Visiting suit in almond green wool. Flat bodice, decorated on the side with a large ornate braid going down to the bottom of the skirt, same braid on the back, princess shape; on the bodice, large Bruges guipure collar, high braid collar with ruffle above; Empire sleeves. Princess skirt, decorated with braids. Round black felt hat trimmed with a rising satin drapery, from the middle of which escapes an egret-shaped ostrich feather.

Métrage: 9 mètres lainage grande largeur.

—

(2) Toilette de satin bleu pâle Liberty. Corsage bouillonné recouvert par une dentelle blanche pailletée, avec nœuds de satin à l'ouverture et sur les épaules; manches Empire, ceinture de satin; jupe boutonnée sur le côté, tout unie et plissée derrière.

(2) Liberty pale blue satin toilet. Bubbled bodice covered with glittery white lace, with satin bows at the opening and on the shoulders; Empire sleeves, satin sash; skirt buttoned on the side, all plain and pleated behind.

Métrage: 15 mètres satin Liberty bleu pâle.

—

(3) Toilette d'intérieur. Corsage formé d'entre-deux de valenciennes et de chantilly noir, mis sous ceinture rose; col semblable avec ruche au-dessus; manches Empire formées d'entre-deux; transparent de taffetas rose sous le corsage. Jupe de velours noir forme nouvelle.

(3) House dress. Bodice made of valenciennes and black whipped cream, placed under a pink belt; similar collar with ruffle above; Empire sleeves formed from in-between; transparent pink taffeta under the bodice. New shape black velvet skirt.

Métrage: 10 mètres velours noir.

—

(4) Toilette d'intérieur en faille bleu bluet. Corsage plat recouvert par un boléro en broderie de jais garni par un volant plissé et coquillé en mousseline de soie rose; manches petit ballon retenues par un nœud semblable, col montant avec nœuds de velours derrière. Jupe princesse remontant devant en pointe sur la poitrine.

(4) House dress in bluet blue faille. Flat bodice covered by a jet embroidery bolero trimmed with a pleated and shell ruffle in pink silk chiffon; small balloon sleeves held in place with a similar knot, high collar with velvet bows behind. Princess skirt rising in front to a point on the chest.

Métrage: 13 mètres faille bleu bluet.

—

(5) Toilette de visites. Corsage en mousseline de soie noire plissée, sur transparent vieil or sous empiècement de soie brochée vieil or avec petit volant en mousseline; bretelles semblables, col de satin noir, ruche de mousseline. Manches Empire avec jockeys de soie brochée. Jupe de satin noir unie. Toque de satin vieil or, composée d'un fond mou et de choux faisant la passe, et surmontés par une grande plume et une aigrette.

(5) Visiting ensemble. Bodice in pleated black chiffon, on transparent old gold under yoke of old gold brocaded silk with small chiffon ruffle; similar straps, black satin collar, muslin ruffle. Empire sleeves with brocade silk jockeys. Plain black satin skirt. Old gold satin hat, composed of a soft background and cabbages making the pass, and topped by a large feather and an egret.

Métrage: 10 mètres satin noir.

—

(6) Toilette d'intérieur (jeune fille). Corsage de mousseline en soie paille plissée. Boléro en lainage vert grenouille brodé en galon à plat et faisant grand col. Jupe tout unie avec galon sur les côtés, manches Empire.

(6) House dress for a young girl. Pleated straw silk chiffon bodice. Frog green wool bolero embroidered in flat braid and making a large collar. Plain skirt with braid on the sides, Empire sleeves.

Métrage: 9 mètres lainage grande largeur.

—

(7) Toilette de visites. Corsages cuirasse en satin blanc recouvert d'applications blanches; sur le côté, volant coquillé en application en point d'Angleterre, manches Empire en velours gris souris, jupe semblable. Toque de velours gris souris composée de coques doubles sur le devant, fond mou et double oiseau de Paradis en dessus.

(7) Visiting ensemble. Plastron bodices in white satin covered with white applications; on the side, shell flounce in English point appliqué, Empire sleeves in mouse gray velvet, similar skirt. Mouse gray velvet hat made of double shells on the front, soft bottom and double bird of paradise on top.

Métrage: 12 mètres velours gris souris.

—

(8) Toilette d'intérieur en lainage, genre tailleur. Corsage-veste en tissu à carreaux beige et marron; grands revers de drap beige, boutonnés sur des jockeys semblables encadrant un gilet brodé en appliques, col drape montant, jupe unie plissée derrière.

(8) House dress in wool, tailor-made. Corsage-jacket in beige and brown checked fabric; large lapels of beige cloth, buttoned on similar jockeys framing an embroidered applique vest, high draped collar, plain pleated skirt behind.

Métrage: 9 mètres lainage beige grande largeur.

—

(9) Toilettes de promenade. Robe princesse en drap satin suède, corsage croisé à la taille, revers de drap blanc entourés de velours dalhia, encadrant une chemisette brodée, col montant rabattu, manches Empire, jupe plissée derrière avec bas garni par un feston de drap blanc. Petite toque de satin bleu formée par une passe bouillonnée, et grande aigrette sur le devant.

(9) Walking ensembles. Princess dress in suede satin cloth, crossed bodice at the waist, white cloth lapels surrounded by dalhia velvet, framing an embroidered shirt, turn-down high collar, Empire sleeves, pleated skirt behind with hem trimmed with a white cloth festoon. Small blue satin hat formed by a bubbled pass, and large egret on the front.

Métrage: 7 mètres drap satin.

—

(10) Toilette de fillette en lainage bleu pervenche. Corsage bretelle ouvert sur un empiècement brodé en drap paille, ruche autour du cou; manches Empire, petits velours bleu foncé sur les hauts poignets, ceinture drapée, jupe courte avec broderie dans le bas.

(10) Little girl's toilet in periwinkle blue wool. Strap bodice open to an embroidered straw cloth yoke, ruffle around the neck; Empire sleeves, small dark blue velvet on the high cuffs, draped belt, short skirt with embroidery at the bottom.

—

(11) Toilette d'intérieur en satin aubergine. Corsage cuirasse, avec col montant et ruche au-dessus; sur le corsage, trois rangs de guipure blanche coquillée jusqu'à la taille. Même guipure sue les épaules; ceinture de satin paille, nouée en longs pans sur le côté; manches Empire, jupe unie plissée derrière.

(11) House dress in aubergine satin. Breastplate bodice, with stand-up collar and ruffle above; on the bodice, three rows of white shell guipure up to the waist. Even guipure sweats on the shoulders; straw satin belt, tied in long sections on the side; Empire sleeves, plain pleated skirt behind.

Métrage: 14 mètres satin aubergine.

—

(12) Toilette d'intérieur en lainage orange. Corsage court, mis sous ceinture de soie orange et verte, grands revers et draperies au-dessus, en soie verte encadrant un plastron rayé orange et vert, et retenu par un nœud sur le devant, ruche de dentelle autour du cou, manches Empire; jupe plissée derrière, tout unie et cerclée dans le bas par vingt-cinq petits galons de laine noire.

(12) House dress in orange wool. Short bodice, placed under an orange and green silk belt, large lapels and draperies above, in green silk framing an orange and green striped bib, and held by a knot on the front, lace ruffle around the neck, Empire sleeves; skirt pleated behind, all plain and circled at the bottom by twenty-five small braids of black wool.

Métrage: 9 mètres lainage grande largeur.

[marzipanandminutiae]

Dear Marzi,

I know you want to do Renaissance Revival sleeve slashes with green silk puffs (bordered with lace) on your new bodice. it WOULD look very very cool. but consider:

You would need to order more green silk and it would not be done in time for holiday travel

IT IS A WINTER BODICE, YOU ABSOLUTE PEABRAIN

DO NOT BREAK UP THE NICE COZY WOOL SLEEVES WITH NON-INSULATING-WEIGHT SILK

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

WE'RE NOT EVEN GOING TO TALK ABOUT THE FACT THAT YOU'RE USING ANTIQUE CHANTILLY LACE AGAIN DESPITE KNOWING THAT THAT SHIT IS AS BRITTLE AS APRIL ICE

"wah wah they don't make it in non-plastic anymore though!!!" YOU ARE A MENACE TO INNOCENT LACE IS WHAT YOU ARE, MADAME

get your fucking act together,

Marzi.

[succubusyuyu]

can’t get out of my mind for mark and nipples play cause he would be so obsessed with groping and nibbling them 😮‍💨

oh anon you got me thinking about this the whole day so I just came with something...

[18:20]

tags: mark x reader, smut, food play, a little fluff

it's your birthday and mark knows you're not that into parties to yourself, so he just plan a special day for you. he buys you a beautiful floral dress to use on your special day, he brings breakfast in bed for you, he takes you to a park full of flowers, to the shopping, buy you your favorite ice cream and favorite junk food, buy you another gift, a pretty necklace with a green heart who matches your dress and when it's already afternoon when the day is almost over he takes you home where he have a strawberry cake ready for you, your favorite.

"happy birthday, baby." he takes you to the couch, kissing your hand and bringing you to sit on his lap, "let's eat your cake, it's your favorite." you smiles, because yes it is and he remembered, "you remembered." you say, leaving a peck on his lips, "of course I did, baby, I remember everything about you." he cut one piece of the cake with the fork and bring it to your lips, you open and hums at the delicious flavor, some chantilly get lost on your lips and he prompt licks it clean for you, you smiles against his lips.

"i remember everything, i remember you like flowers, and you didn't have a favorite movie, yet you always want to watch howl's moving castle," his lips travel to your neck, "i know your favorite lotion is the cherry and hazelnut one, which i love, make you so much more delicious," his tongue licks a flat line from your neck to your shoulder, you shivers, "mark-ah", he smiles against your neck.

mark takes one piece from the cake and eats it himself, his chantilly dirty lips places kisses against your collarbones, to your shoulders, and come back cleaning with again, lips making a path along your skin, "fuck, you tastes so fucking good, baby." he slides the dress's strap from your shoulders, one by one, until they are pooling at the curve of your breasts, and leaves more kisses, more and more, "want more, kitty?" he asks and you nod, not knowing if is kisses or the cake he's taking about, anyway you get both, a piece of cake on your mouth and kisses along the beginning of your tits, he sucks at the skin as if your skin is delicious as the strawberry you found between the cake, "is it so good, marklie?" you teases and he smiles against your skin, raising his eyes to look at you, "it's delicious, baby, you're so delicious, so hot, my delicious girlfriend." he says groping your titties, his fingers found easily your hard nipples over the soft dress fabric, pinching it, hard, just as he knows you like.

"mark-" you moans, as his lips start to travel further and his head is basically between your titties, your hand finds the way to his hair and your fingers run through the black strands, bringing him to where you want the most and he does, his teeth drag the fabric until your breasts are exposed and his mouth attacks your nipples, he is fast, as if he's hungry, nibbling at your nipples, making you moan loud as he sucks and grop your tits, and you're enjoying it so fucking much until he's moving away and you're whining. "mark yah, why, baby?" you whines and he smirks. "just want to eat a bit of your cake, baby," he takes a piece with the fork, "it is delicious just like your tits, love." he says as he takes the chantilly top from the cake and spreads along your areola, you gasp at the cold sensation of the sweet chantilly, and soon at the sensation of his tongue running along the areola and twirling around your nipple, "can you come just by me sucking at your titties, baby?" he asks, but the smirk lifting the corner of his lips, says he isn't asking, he knows you will.

[elaine-of-shalott-blog]

BELLARA

Poisonous yet beautiful flower with a romantic, dark twist, like a black Chantilly lace midi dress adorned with wild forest embroidery and 3D bees and butterflies, adding a touch of ethereal mystery.

LILITH

An exquisite taffeta ball gown blending Renaissance elegance with a modern twist. Featuring a structured corset crafted from delicate crepon, adorned with Chantilly lace, and embellished with 3D iris flowers and butterflies, this gown evokes timeless beauty and graceful femininity.

SIERRA

An enchanting blend of nature and futurism, this hand-drawn butterfly dress dazzles in rich emerald green shades. The dress is crafted from hand-cut mirror sequins and beads, glisten like glass across the bust, evoking the delicate beauty of a butterfly. A daring high slit on the side adds an edge of bold sophistication to this breathtaking creation.

BLUEBELL

FAUNA

SELENE

SERAPHINA

CELESTE

Unveil the enigma of elegance with this deep sapphire masterpiece. Bold, irregular corsetry contrasts with voluminous taffeta sleeves, while a pleated puffy train adds a dramatic touch. The midi pencil skirt, crafted from delicate French Chantilly lace, is adorned with a cascade of handmade organza feathers, blending hues in a striking ombré effect. A bouquet of embroidered orchids and iris flowers blooms at the center, encircled by fluttering butterflies, bringing a whisper of nature's grace to this couture creation.

BOTANICAL ALCHEMY, Sara Mrad, Fall/Winter 2024-25 Haute Couture

In the shadows of a forgotten wilderness, where darkness once ruled, a new light emerges.

Our couture collection weaves a tale of nature's rebirth, where the wild and untamed transform into a vision of the future.

[themuseumwithoutwalls]

MWW Artwork of the Day (1/25/23) Limbourg Brothers (Dutch, fl. 1385–1416) Les Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry: Fall and the Expulsion from Paradise (c. 1416) Tempera on vellum, 29.4 x 21 cm. Musée Condé, Chantilly

The picture has no frame, the border of the whole representation being provided by the wall of Paradise. It is from this frame that Adam and Eve have to enter a world which has no boundaries, in which the very shores of the sea vanish, apparently turning into clouds in the infinity of space. Although the ground of the Garden of Eden is stretched behind the figures like a tapestry, it is not merely a decorative surface, since the gradual darkening of the fresh green lawn conveys spatiality. In fact the hardly discernible nuances of green seem to lend the circle a spherical quality. The painter's intention in this respect is also evinced by the use of perspective in the delineation of the fountain and also of the gate (for example, the roof of the fountain is seen and represented from below, whereas its hexagonal basin appears as if seen from above; indeed, the latter does not turn as steeply into the plane of the picture as does the ground itself).

For more Medieval illuminated manuscripts, see this MWW Special Collection: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?vanity=TheMuseumWithoutWalls&set=a.419770264795015

[disastrouscanasta]

Okay here’s a green light to talk about anything you’d like to regarding your fics! Btw: read your most recent loosier fic and loved it :)

HI!!! This is an ask from the ancient ask game where you get permission to talk about whatever you want from your fics. I left this way too long, sorry about that!!

this lovely ask mentions my loosier 70s au - part 1. thank you very much!!

incidentally, that’s my least favourite so far of the three planned parts in the series (the other two are. in the drafts)

I like Sharing so here is a snippet from part 3. about cooking shows and the baking hobby.

**

“I should take up baking,” Bob said, eyeing the small television. Hoosier didn’t look up from where he rolled a cigarette.

“I don’t know if I’d trust you to make a cake,” He drawled. “Flour is flammable, you know.”

“I’ve cooked some damn good meals since we’ve moved in.”

Hoosier finally spared the TV a glance, where Julia Childs told the audience how to make whipped cream, crème chantilly, she said. Hoosier wasn’t going to try pronouncing that.

“Neither of us has an opinion for shit. I think my tastebuds are still melted on the bottom USMC spoon.” Hoosier went back to the task at hand, keeping the rolling paper as tight as he could get it around the fill. “Some kid who’s still green behind the ears is tasting my tongue in his mess kit.”

There was a joke in there somewhere, just for Bob to hear.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you wrote pulp horror. You paint the worst imagery, you know that?”

“It’s a gift.”

Bob laughed, and Hoosier felt the weight of his eyes on the side of his head. He looked up just as he sealed his cigarette, he dragged his tongue along the length of the paper, then rolled it around. It was phallic, if the way Bob’s eyes widened, just slightly, told him anything.

He smirked, put this one down with the others he’d finished and moved on to the next, casting his eyes away from Leckie.

“I think I need to do something with my time,” Bob said after a moment. He didn’t sound as flustered as Hoosier had been expecting, but he could only find it in himself to be a little bit put out by that. He was content to sit there, occupied and boring like a pair of geezers.

“Write more.” Hoosier told him.

“That’s work. I want something low-energy. Where it doesn’t matter if I’m good at it or not.”

Hoosier raised an eyebrow, finished rolling his cigarette quickly– it was a bit lopsided. He’d smoke that one first, leave the good ones for later. He pushed away the dinner tray he’d been working on and stood up, he took a seat beside Bob on their two-cushioned couch, relaxing back against the cushions.

“You don’t have to be good at it, but you shouldn’ burn down the kitchen, either.”

Leckie laughed. He grabbed hold of Hoosier’s hand, holding it in his absently. “Can you bake?”

“Fuck no.” Hoosier scoffed, “It’s all chemistry. If I wanted to think that hard, I’d go back to school.”

[housedeaubemarle]

A House Call

(written with @escherstrange-ffxiv, without whom none of this would have existed in the first place)

Followed by 'A House Call: Epilogue du Oudine'.

~*~

"Sydney should be here," Joshua grumbles, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeve. 

"Probably for the best." Isillud thinks it wiser not to tell his younger brother of their brother's reply.

An hour ago:

Sydney's laugh was of a man who had suffered at the hands of House Aubemarle. It was long, sharp, and bitter. "HAHAHAHA good fucking luck," he said before the linkpearl fell silent.

Isillud's eyes narrowed at the fireplace, as if telepathically setting his brother on fire all the way at Radz-at-han. "Bitch."

"He could have given us some tips. I've never met the viscountess."

"Neither have I, Joshua." Isillud smooths his hair back, waiting for the door to open.

~*~

Marceaux, butler to House Aubemarle perhaps since the time of the Ancients, opens the door to two lanky Elezen gentlemen. 

The eye first takes in an absurdly beautiful face on the right, accompanied by well-sculpted - youthful - features on the left. Another second of scanning addresses the similar bone structures, Duskwight skin, points of ears, and builds of the pair before him. Yet a third instant notes the ruffles of cravats and shirts, unobtrusive cufflinks and neatly pointed shoes, while filing away for future reference, certain wrinkles in cloth that either point to a household without laundry maids or worse: untrained servants. 

“Our relatives, the Losstarots, are due tomorrow morning, Marceaux. We will not be home to anyone else till their visit is complete.”

“Very good, milady.”

He opens his mouth, just as the trained eye submits a fourth report: the pairs of eyes looking back at him - one impassive, one defiant - are shockingly green. 

“Good morning, gentlemen. Whom may I say is calling?”

Joshua straightens his back, clearing his throat and whipping out a card in between his fingers. “Lord Joshua Losstarot and my brother, Isillud. We are here to meet with Viscount Aubemarle."

The card is a crisp white card printed only with his name and a coat of arms. He looks as dignified and lordly as a young man due to come of age in 3 days (figuratively) can be. Isillud simply nods and smiles at the butler. 

Marceaux wordlessly and gingerly receives the tiny rectangle. He peers at it, absorbing that this is, in fact, the Lord Joshua Losstarot. Still holding the card respectfully in his gloved hands, he bows and moves aside to wave them through.

“Welcome, milords. If you would be so kind as to follow me, I will direct you to the Chantilly Room.”

He awaits acknowledgement of this, and at the briefest nod from Lord Joshua, neatly spins on his heel and walks down the hall at a moderate pace. He does not turn to see their reaction to the interior, though if one were to conduct an interview later, Marceaux would hardly dare suggest anything but satisfaction with the tasteful wallpaper of ivory striped with off-white, matching an elegant marble floor in swirling shades.  

The door of the Chantilly Room opens to, indeed, cream-coloured curtains, off-white painted walls and carpets of a darker grey-blue. Within, on a low table opposite a pale blue sofa, sits a full tea set. Along the walls are ornaments of various styles and sizes on sturdy shelves, while two painted lacquer screens stand at a corner. A gilded wall mirror completes the furnishing.

“Please make yourself at home, milords.”

Marceaux waits for a count of five, trusting their lordships to seat themselves comfortably, before he closes the door with a quiet thud. From the corner of his eye, he sees the barest whisper of a skirt and hears a stifled giggle.

He represses a sigh - and the thought that Lord Joshua’s brother’s reputation precedes itself - before quickly heading upstairs.

~*~

Being away from Ishgard for five summers has dulled their aesthetics towards interior decoration. Joshua shifts his weight, rocking back and forth on his heels. "How long do we have to wait, Izzy?"

Isillud glances at the decor, taking in the details as he walks past the ornaments, mentally placing them in their possible places of origin. "You don't ask, Joshua. You just sit and look around. Gives you an idea of what to talk about." He peers at some. "Hingan teacup. Gyr Abanian charm. If they don't travel, their friends do."

"How do you know they didn't buy it?"

"You don't buy a single teacup, Joshua." 

Joshua points to a row under the gilded mirror. "What about that miniature fan and those dancing figurines then? Took their friends long enough to realise what they liked?"

Isillud glances at the mirror, sighs, then sinks into the couch.

The wait isn’t as agonisingly long as Joshua anticipates. Barely two minutes after Isillud sits, the door opens again. 

“Good morning, my lords.”

The woman offering her greetings is tall and fair, dressed in a blouse of soothing dusty blue with gauzy bishop sleeves, and black trousers. Waves of shiny, dark brown hair have been woven into neat braids, then pinned into a singular tidy bun; bangs frame either side of her face. Clear grey eyes crinkle above a pointed nose; lips coloured an inoffensive shade of cameo pink form a warm smile. 

She stretches out a hand towards Joshua first, as is correct etiquette.

“I am Oudine de Aubemarle. I suppose we could be called cousins of sorts.”

Joshua straightens his jacket before taking Oudine's hand and barely touching his lips with it. "Joshua Lo-" he is interrupted by Isillud's cough. "-Joshua de Losstarot, a pleasure to meet you Viscount."

He steps aside for his brother. Compared to his, Isillud seems smoother, like he trained his entire youth for this moment.

"Milady." Isillud's baritone voice is like silk brushing across her hand. "Will your mother not be joining us?"

Oudine blinks. It hasn’t been that long since she’d received hand kisses as greetings, surely. Is she so accustomed to shaking hands on business that gallantry has become a surprise? 

Focus, Oudine.

She keeps smiling. “She will, in just a moment. Her toilette requires a little more attention, seeing as the sons of her longtime connections are here.” Oudine gestures to the sofa. “Please, do sit. The staff will bring some light repast by and by, so we will have to contend with tea first. I hope red tea is to your taste.”

As her guests sit, and she picks up the teapot to pour, she continues. “If you don’t mind me saying so this quickly in your visit, hearing of your reinstatement was personally gratifying. I’m glad the Holy See is making what amends it can, though perhaps,” she looks up at them, noting the arresting green gazes of both brothers. “Such hurts will take a longer time to heal.”

"I shan't lie, it's equal parts relief and resentment," Joshua replies. "We can't even give a proper funeral for our parents and grandfather, but at least we have our home back." He shoots his brother a pointed look. "Not entirely, but I'll take what I can get." 

Idillud picks up his teacup and inhales once before sipping. Leaning back against the sofa signals to Joshua he has no intention of carrying a conversation - he's only there to supervise the lord-in-training, nothing else - and so Joshua continues. "I do confess my surprise that you are the current viscount, milady." Joshua's voice is markedly younger, and with youth carries a tone of eagerness instead of nosiness. "I thought it would be your brother."

This is not a question Oudine has heard for a few years now. She takes a quick glance at Isillud, apparently absorbed in his tea. Is this the usual pattern? The older brother hanging back, the younger taking the lead? Then again, knowing what they do of Sydney, perhaps House Losstarot must needs rely on its youth. And youth, Oudine knows, requires training. 

“I’m sorry to hear of your parents and grandfather. It is… difficult, when one does not have the chance to say the goodbyes one desires.”

She gestures invitingly to the sugar bowl, lifting its lid.

“As for Remont, let us just say it has long been an unspoken understanding in our family that birth is not necessarily the best judge of headship. My father’s passing was perhaps the culmination of that understanding.”

She smiles at the young man in front of her. For a moment, she remembers her younger brother as he had been ten years ago, though perhaps Joshua has more palpable vitality. 

“I think, in that, we have something in common, Lord Joshua.”

“And what would that be, my love? Is the head of Losstarot too an insouciant younger brother?”

Oudine nearly drops the lid. She whips around to see the Dowager Viscountess herself standing in the doorway, attended by Marceaux. She is shorter than everyone present, but commands a presence that could even match the likes of Count Charlemend de Durendaire. Smooth, very pale blonde hair that borders on white is neatly put up. A wan but clearly inquisitive smile sits on her slightly wrinkled, but still clear, face, matched by a raised eyebrow. Two hands fold atop her cane, topped by a handle in the shape of a finely carved Hornbill head. 

“Mother!”

The brothers stand and bow respectfully to the Dowager. “Viscountess," they greet, though only Joshua continues. "It is good to see you well." He keeps up the smile, waiting for the Dowager's response, while Isillud tugs his gloves up, checking that he is still wearing them.

The Dowager reaches out, not towards her visitors as Oudine had, but for her daughter. Marceaux has already melted away, shutting the door.

“Well as can be, praise unto the Fury,” she says with a sigh as Oudine dutifully takes her hand and escorts her eight steps forward to a sturdy chair near the sofa. “Remember not to get old, young men - it brings too many inconveniences.”

She sits, waving at them to do the same. Then silence falls, awkward and spiky, as the Dowager seems to read the Losstarots’ very souls.

“Hrrmph,” she says at last. “Whatever he believed, at least Cletienne's eyes outlived him. And you,” she nods at Isillud, “I see la incomparable again in your face, so clearly you have your mother to thank for your looks. Though your reputation is entirely your own.”

There is a slightly louder clink of porcelain, as Oudine turns from where she’s pouring a fourth cup of tea to give her mother an inscrutable look. The Dowager, sitting upright in her chair, returns an impassive glance, then turns back again to her guests.

“Well, Lord Joshua? You’ve not answered my question. Or perhaps I should seek answers from another authority on the subject, eh Lord Isillud?”

Isillud's cup rests on the saucer with another audible clink. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out from it; Joshua starts instead.

"Isillud is well aware that his reputation would not bode well for the house; hence why it was agreed upon that I should bear the title." The younger man flashes his brightest smile, "We are much alike in that we have overstepped our more-deserving siblings to wear our mantles, Viscount." His tone dances lightly over the sunbeams spilling through the windows.

Isillud doesn't look at the pair, merely smiles as the lanky man leans into the sofa, crossing his hands on his lap. "Hmph," he softly laughs, snow white eyelashes fluttering shut.

Joshua's shoulders relax, sloping just enough to be noticeable. "You must be curious about what we've been up to over the last five summers, we would be glad to indulge your questions."

The Dowager shows no sign of relenting. “Ah, so the answer is no. Insouciance isn’t quite the description. Dear heart,” she says, looking at Oudine who has continued to drop two lumps of sugar into the delicate cup she holds. “Your brother’s carelessness evidently is an idiosyncrasy of his own. You are to be sympathised with, it seems.”

Oudine mumbles a form of non-committal reply, simultaneously giving her mother tea, and delicately removing the walking stick for the old lady’s convenience. 

Clearly, this was no longer the Viscount’s game. Though, to be fair, it hadn’t been from the moment she’d handed her mother the Losstarots’ formal letter of introduction a few weeks ago. Oudine glances again at Isillud, looking for some kind of solidarity between older siblings. 

There is none to be found. The older brother appears to be fully meditating on the merits of some otherworldly matter. It is a shame, thinks Oudine, she can’t bring herself to do the same since her mother has started speaking to Lord Joshua again.

“Is there possibly anything more dramatic than the antics of the Warrior of Light and the Scions?” asks the Dowager, carefully stirring her cup. “Did you too ride a dragon overhead into Ishgard, guns a-blazing so to speak? Do tell us from the beginning; we are all attention, Lord Joshua.”

Joshua's laugh isn't of a carefree boy - courtesy and restraint swaddle it. "If there are I'm afraid I wasn't privy to it. My story is simpler than that: Taken under the wing of a trader, I simply learned the ropes of her business. Aside from the usual cargo she offered safe passages to refugees seeking to flee the Garlean occupation, when she abandoned it after Ala Mhigo and Doma's liberation I simply abided by her decision. There are other trade avenues to pursue after all." Joshua is less careful with his tea, even a tiny slurp echoes in the room. "Crude, but it pays the bills for now."

Isillud leans forward, nudging his cup towards Oudine. "May I have more tea, milady?" When she refills his cup, slender gloved fingers brush against hers when he lifts his cup.

"Joshua needs to learn. He will be fine. Breathe easy, cousin." Emerald irises rise to her eyes, almost glowing with a divinity that vouches for him.

His cousin wonders when he had the capacity to notice her unspoken pleas for help. She decides to question it later. The intense gaze and silken touch on the hand are distractions enough (and suddenly, Oudine reaches a deeper understanding with her brother).

“If it’s learning you both sought here, then you won’t leave disappointed,” she murmurs in reply, though as she returns to stand behind her mother’s chair, her posture is slightly more at ease. 

The Dowager on the other hand, sips calmly as Joshua recites the undoubtedly summarised adventures of five years. 

“My, my. Refugees from the Garlean occupation, Ala Mhigo and Doma. Your youth belies your profound experiences, young man. And the delicacy you’ve offered in your storytelling is appreciated but unnecessary.” Her dark brown eyes go straight through Joshua. “Pray tell what your trade entails currently. Aubemarle claims acquaintance with any number of lesser houses that deal in commerce, though we ourselves do not have such businesses.”

Behind her, her daughter quietly shifts her weight; the ease dissolves from Oudine’s spine. 

Joshua's smile tightens, eyes set straight at the Dowager. He clears his throat.

"A variety of merchandise from the east. Thavnair, Garlemald, Dalmasca even. The trade routes are perilous and there is no shortage of demand from these nations." Sip. "I simply bring people what they want for a fee, I should be glad to give you our current catalogue should you wish." The legal catalogue is what goes unsaid in his explanation.

The Dowager tilts her head slightly. “‘Bringing people what they want for a fee’. What a simple explanation it is. Have you considered a different career, Lord Joshua? Perhaps a writer for one of our illustrious newspapers? Some of their pieces are so concise, they do the exact opposite of their express purpose: to inform the public. You would do perfectly, I shouldn’t wonder.”

A knock on the door interrupts the plummeting social temperature of the room. Marceaux silently glides in, bearing a tray full of small plates. Upon them are refreshments suited for a mid-morning interlude with distinguished guests: pastries that do not flake, but can be savoured in two bites, eclairs that aren’t overfilled so as not to embarrass enthusiastic eaters, finger sandwiches that make for dignified chewing.

(Thank the Fury for small mercies, thinks Oudine.)

The butler sets the silver tray down, right beside the teapot. The Dowager’s nod sends him gliding back out of the room.

“Do help yourselves, my lords,” says the Dowager smoothly.

Joshua laughs but the heat within tightens around his gut. He's running out of options to please her, and a choice reply remains at the tip of his tongue only because Isillud would likely kick him off the sofa if he said it. The introduction of desserts has done nothing for him, for he is mentally flipping through a notebook about what to do during social situations like this. Unfortunately, the book is still fresh and blank.

He turns to his brother only for him to notice two things: Firstly, Isillud has seen Marceaux. Secondly, the glint in Isillud's eye.

No, oh no you don't-

Isillud doesn't take his eyes away from the door long after the butler has left. He plucks an eclair from the plate and without so much as looking at what he's doing, places it at his lips and sucks the cream from the hole with no pretense what's on his mind.

Joshua's world crumples in on itself. If Isillud does not hide what's on his mind, neither does Joshua with a mortified expression on his face. He does the first thing he can think of to snap his brother out of his reverie: he elbows him really hard in the ribs. It works - Isillud jolts back to the room, blinking innocently at Joshua.

"What?"

Oudine de Aubemarle, with the seasoned practice of someone who has been trained to ignore that which couldn’t possibly have occurred in the drawing room of a highborn Ishgardian house, immediately speaks in her modulated, pleasant tone. 

“It is good, isn’t it? Though he is our own cook, I must personally recommend Mr Ofanleitasyn’s creations. Lord Joshua, perhaps you might like to try a sandwich.”

She walks forward swiftly, picking up one of each kind to place on a small plate, then turns back around to the Dowager. 

“I myself requested Cook to prepare these, Mother. They’re your particular favourites after all.”

The Dowager’s lips had already parted, perhaps to deliver a homily against the obvious dereliction of the world outside Ishgard and its regrettable influence on wayward young men. Something in the look she receives - hidden from view of the Losstarots - makes her put her lips back together and nod.

“Thank you, my pet. Such thoughtfulness,” she says, and even gently pats the Viscount on the cheek.

Oudine turns back, places two small sandwiches on a plate and offers it to Joshua. The smile that accompanies it, she hopes, would read as an apology and encouragement. 

He must and will learn, yes, but the older sister in her cannot help herself.

Joshua whips over to the plate of sandwiches. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before mustering weakly, "Y...yes, thank you." He shoves a sandwich into his mouth, breathing heavily through his nose. If he cannot say anything he might as well have something in his mouth for it.

A second of watching his brother's reaction later, Isillud shrugs and takes a dainty bite from his eclair. "A Roegadyn, then? How long has he been in service?"

“Oh, ever since I can remember, quite frankly,” says the Viscount. She looks to her mother, who hands the younger noble her still-full cup of tea. Oudine silently puts it back on the low table, and proceeds to pour a fresh, hot cup. 

“Mr Ofanleitasyn has been with us these last 30 years or so. One of my late husband’s many flashes of brilliance,” says the Dowager, the tone just ever so slightly more conciliatory. “He may be a Roegadyn, but his abilities produce thoroughly Ishgardian fare.”

The dark brown eyes of the lady gleam as she continues with, “If memory serves, your mother  quite enjoyed a variant of Dzemael Gratin he made once in the past. I believe she was carrying your eldest brother at the time, and so could not attend one of our dinners. Seeing as it was her first pregnancy, she could not help but be cautious. We had a dish delivered over to her, and she returned a most gracious note of thanks.” She pauses a moment. “La Incomparable had excellent taste.”

The Dowager receives the new cup of tea from her daughter with an arched eyebrow. There. Happy? It seems to say.

Yes, returns the answering smile of Oudine.

Chewing slowly, Joshua blinks at the story. "Huh, I didn't know that. Did you know that, Izzy?"

Isillud doesn't answer; he narrows his eyes at the Dowager, lips thinned into a single line. Her words have stirred him though he clenches his fists and says nothing.

It felt like a slap, that this woman of distant relation would have a vivid story to tell of their mother. A reminder of their place: If only she knew what has become of her children. One a swindler, the other a harlot. And you dare show your face around Ishgard? For shame.

Isillud finishes his eclair and wipes his fingers on a handkerchief. "Come, Joshua. We have tarried enough."

"Huh? But we just started-" The look on his brother's face shuts him up. "Thank you for your hospitality. It was a pleasure meeting you both, we shall call upon your house in the near future."

He gives a quick bow and jogs after Isillud, who doesn't even bother with niceties as he heads for the door.

The Dowager silently watches the rapid departure of both young men with unexpected calmness, even having the presence of mind to set her teacup down on the table. 

Beside her, Oudine is less able to control herself. “What-”

“Oudine.”

She looks at the Dowager, surprise - and since they’re alone, some hurt - in her face. “Mamma?”

The old lady reaches out, and instinctively, her daughter clasps her hand.

“I know I promised never to interfere in your dealings as Viscount. But I ask you to trust me when I tell you: do not run out to seek an explanation from them, at least for the present. Will you, dearest?”

Oudine purses her lips. Part of her is itching to do exactly that - to demand an answer, if not resolution, for this abrupt end to a visit she had had every intention of helping along. People she trusted had warned her, gently, about the possibility of these being impostors, of interlopers stealing the noble name of Losstarot, and the resulting connection to the Aubemarles. They had asked her to be extra cautious, knowing that the current Viscount de Aubemarle was inclined to see the better side of others, sometimes wishing to be right, rather than knowing she was right. She had wanted, dearly, to prove them wrong, to be able to say - firmly - that the new head of Losstarot is genuine, and that their claims are true. She still does.

The other part - the one which has seen her mother work what could only be magic on the dizzying social circles of Ishgard’s lesser houses, which has witnessed the Dowager Viscountess call on, and call out, rival houses no less powerful or influential than they, without batting an eyelash - makes her grip her mother’s hand tighter.

Finally, she asks, almost demands. “Did you tell that story of their mother on purpose? Did you aim at Lord Isillud?” Neither woman hears the front door of the house slam shut. The rooms are too well-built.

“If I aim at anything, which I will pretend to understand for the moment, logic dictates I ought to aim at the head sitting right before me,” says the Dowager. “No, dearest. My intention had been to give those boys a memory they could not have had; a keepsake now that they must step into their elders’ shoes.” 

She looks back at the yawning doorway of the Chantilly Room. 

“I forget that the young - especially young, “resentful” prodigals - may not look as kindly on memories as those of my age.”

After a moment, the old lady frowns. “House de Aubemarle can only claim to be far relations. There are others who are closer cousins, in higher places, and with even more accounts of the Losstarots as they once were. Lord Isillud will need stronger armour. And more flesh on his bones, if he intends to remain in this city.” 

Oudine cannot help wanting a complete diagnosis. “And Lord Joshua needs…?”

Her mother snorts. “Time. And more polish in his address.”

Oudine shakes her head, before realising what the Dowager had said. She takes in a deep breath, releases it. “You were listening outside the door when I first entered the room, weren’t you?” 

The Dowager makes no answer, merely returning the grip on her daughter’s hand. The Viscount can only sigh, and finally sits down for the first time since she’d welcomed the Losstarots to their home. 

Still clinging to her mother’s hand, she says consideringly, “You believe them to be real then. They are the long-lost Losstarot sons, now returned.”

The Dowager looks surprised. “Of course, dear heart. No charlatan worth their salt would have stormed out so violently.”

A wave of tired regret washes over Oudine and she closes her eyes. “Then we have given offence to our own. And it involves their mother.” She opens them again to stare at the ceiling. “How on earth can we make amends?”

“My sweet girl, ever forgiving. Thus is the discourtesy already forgotten.”

Oudine lets herself frown, obviously and deeply frustrated, at her mother. It’s been a very long morning, no matter that the fiasco had really only lasted for all of fifteen minutes or less.

The Dowager smiles. “You are Viscount de Aubemarle. You will think of something. Besides,” she nods at her daughter. “You have their calling card, do you not?”

Oudine slips her free hand (it’s also annoying how she doesn’t even want to let go of her mother, despite everything) into a trouser pocket. She pulls out the innocuous white card Marceaux had given her, and stares at it.

“...hmm.”

As the Viscount thinks and plans, the Dowager leans forward towards the table. She picks up an eclair, snorts at a thought that has just occurred to her, and takes a delicate bite.

~*~

It is three days later, when there is a knock on the door of the Losstarots’ residence.

Ser Drouhont, Temple Knight-turned-steward, all of 7 fulms (possibly more) and pitch black skin opens the door. "Good morning. Whom shall I say is calling?" The wind whips his long hair about, thankfully long and heavy enough that it doesn't obscure his face.

Before this very impressive figure stand two Elezens, both in the livery of House Aubemarle. The darker skinned one wearing a small pair of gold-rimmed glasses on his face bows respectfully. The grace of his movement is unhampered by the neatly wrapped parcel in his arms. Beside him, a very lovely black-haired maid with dark eyes dips in a polite curtsey, a clearly laden basket despite its cloth covering, in hand.

“No one, sir. We are only here to present my lady Viscount Aubemarle’s compliments, and seek your goodness to deliver them to your master,” says the bespectacled footman in an even tone.

"My masters are unfortunately currently indisposed, but I would be glad to hand it over to them."

The footman bows again. “Thank you, we are most obliged.” He offers the brown paper parcel, secured by twine, to the steward first, before taking the basket from his colleague to hand it over as well. “Good morning to you,” he says with a last bow. The maid curtsies and follows the footman’s lead to go. 

They’ve only gone a few steps when, right before Ser Drouhont closes the door, the maid turns back to call out with a brilliant smile: “Don’t ignore the box at least! It’d be a terrible waste!” 

Drouhont hooks the basket on the crook of his arm, watching the servants leave with a confused look on his face. Within the house, Joshua leans over the banister halfway down the stairs. "Who was it?"

"Compliments from House Aubemarle with a reminder to not ignore the box." He looks at the twine-wrapped parcel with the same impassive face and flat tone. "T'would be a waste to do so." 

That makes the younger elezen curious enough to take the parcel off Drouhont's hands and set it on the dining table. Drouhont puts the basket nearby, turning the cloth over to reveal its contents.

"Let's see what we have here…" Joshua muses, unfolding a blade from a pocket and starts cutting the twine.

"Oh-"

Joshua stops. "What?"

"Twine can be reused…I could use it to wrap my paintings…"

Joshua simply stares at his steward. He should be used to the man's airy comments by now but he was unpredictable when he wanted to. He shakes his head and continues demolishing the wrapper to get at the contents within.

Brown paper crinkles and rustles, falling away to reveal a perfectly square but good-sized, black, lacquered box. On its lid, a spray of flowers blooming from a shapely bough, made of inlaid mother-of-pearl, grows from the bottom corner. Closer inspection easily reveals that the box is made up of three layers and the mild sweet fragrance of baked goods begins to waft upwards. A thick looking packet sits against the box, along with a thinner, lighter envelope. On both, small wax seals, no doubt from a signet ring, bear the crest of House Aubemarle.

In the basket’s case, its contents are less enigmatic. Fresh fruit of various kinds sit within: Coerthan and mirror apples, La Noscean oranges, Lowland grapes, Pixie plums, even a few lemonettes. There is also a singular pineapple, most of its spiky crown carefully cut off for convenience. In the midst of such vibrant colours, the stark white of a small card stands out.

Not even Joshua can resist the allure of freshly baked goods. "She wasn't kidding about her cook," he says as he picks up the packet and envelope, using the blade to pry the seal open.

Meanwhile Drouhont removes the fruit from the basket and sorts it into an artful arrangement, mumbling to himself, "A fine still-life subject for a painting…Master Joshua, there is a card inside here too." He passes the card firmly held between his fingers to his lord, who now has three things to read.

The thin envelope contains a single-sided letter with the crest of House Aubemarle emblazoned in the top centre of the page. In other words, the official letterhead of the Viscount. The handwriting beneath is neat and evenly spaced, flowing in black ink.

-

To Lord Joshua de Losstarot, head of House Losstarot, & Lord Isillud de Losstarot,

I give greeting to my cousins both, and present our apologies for this late letter.

To come straight to the point, we ask forgiveness for treading upon sacred ground without care. While it is not lost upon us how hollow that may ring after what has transpired, please believe that it is meant sincerely. 

What we should have conveyed that day, but did not, is simply this: words do not suffice for how your house has suffered great losses, in many respects. House de Aubemarle has no power to bring back what was, but we will assist - if you are willing, and should need it - in building what will be. The accompaniments to this letter are more concrete tokens of our friendship.

I hope we shall meet again in future, in more fortuitous circumstances. Belatedly, and truly, we welcome our cousins Losstarot back to Ishgard. 

Yours sincerely,

Oudine de Aubemarle, Viscount Aubemarle.

-

Out of the thicker packet comes a small collection of papers and stiffer cards of varying sizes.

One of the cards is an elegantly decorated invitation. The space for recipients has been filled in by hand: Lord Joshua de Losstarot and Lord Isillud de Losstarot are requested for the pleasure of their company at a formal ball at the mansion of House Maintigny in a month’s time. Lady Oisinne de Maintigny is to be addressed should they accept or decline the invitation.

Yet another invitation, on a marginally smaller card but no less elegant, also requests the pleasure of the lords Losstarot’s company, this time at a musical concert, intended to showcase the talents of the newest protege of the Dowager Viscountess Philomene de Aubemarle. It is to be held at the Saint Llafymae Rooms in a fortnight, with acceptances or declines to be addressed to her ladyship at the Aubemarle manor.

Much smaller in size are four narrow tickets. Identically printed on them are admittances to the latest theatrical sensation of Ishgard, Cant and Candour. The tickets read that they are specifically for box seats on any night while the play is performed.

A folded note comes next, unsealed, so it can be opened to read, in the same ink and handwriting as in the longer letter: ‘The Viscount Aubemarle presents her compliments to the manager of the Lightfeather Proving Grounds, and with great pleasure, wishes to make known to your goodself my lords Losstarot, newly returned to Ishgard. Kindly make them welcome at the usual box whensoever they desire.’  

Yet another sheet of paper similar in thickness to the note contains the simple name and address of Etoilier at the very top. Underneath the letterhead is a message from its proprietress who is delighted to know that their chance meetings in the past could be continued in a more formal fashion. Etoile Wintour reassures her lordships that new suits will be ready in good time before the Maintigny ball, and invites them both for fittings in three weeks. Though there is not much fear there since she already has their precise measurements. She presents her compliments and looks forward to their appointments.

And lastly, the smallest of the ‘accompaniments’ is a white business card. Upon it is printed ‘Marlstone Chocobos’ with an address in Ishgard below it, and another address in Tailfeather on a third line. Flexing it under the light reveals an embossed off-white crest in the upper right corner, that of House de Aubemarle. When turned over, there is a third handwritten message, in the same neat handwriting and the same black ink: 

For any reason, if you are ever in need of a fast bird, bring this to the Marlstone office here. If in Dravania, seek out Remont. You will be given one of our finest, no questions asked, no charge. - O.A.

Once the detailed contents of the packet are perused, the last small card from the fruit basket is almost comical in its simplicity. The writing is in brown ink, and a cursive script far different from all the handwriting earlier. The message is brief:

You’ve only just begun. Eat, then fight.

Joshua shuffles through the cards growing increasingly perplexed. "Oh gods, there are so many events; do these people not do anything except socialize?!"

"That is indeed what they do, Master Joshua," Drouhont answers, carefully stacking the apples into a 3D pyramid. "Networking is very important in Ishgardian high society if you wish to remain relevant. Even a soldier of middling rank is expected to be present at the Forgotten Knight once a week at least."

"Drouhont, I can't attend all these on my own." He fans out the theatre tickets. "There are four tickets here and I don't appreciate music as much as…" His eyes follow the stairs, "Him."

"It matters not which Losstarot attends…only that one does." Drouhont frames his arrangement with his fingers, moving a fruit an ilm to the right to adjust.

"In case you have forgotten," Joshua's voice rises. "The other Losstarot is currently drowning in self-pity with only a blanket to maintain his modesty."

"You seem certain he'll always be crushed by the weight of the expectations he's failed, milord."

The younger elezen sighs, turning his attention to the box. He opens each tray to find out what's inside.

The first layer is a jigsaw puzzle of pastries: danishes, butter croissants, apple tarts, jam tarts, even a fig pastry or two to complete the picture. All have been made specially to fit the size of the box, and to be eaten in a single bite.

The second layer opens up to heavier stuff: currant scones give off a delightful scent of butter and sugar; slices of mille-feuille are artfully dusted with fine sugar and cocoa powder; a row of simple pain au chocolat sits with gleaming golden-brown skins.

The third and last layer is filled with nothing but eclairs, covered in chocolate icing.

Joshua twitches visibly at the tray of eclairs; he considers pushing it aside and bringing up only the first layers but changes his mind and slots the small card from the fruit basket among the eclairs before closing it up and lugging it upstairs. "Drouhont, bring the fruits up- on second thought, do as you like with those."

He kicks the door open; the crow roosting at Isillud's head caws in surprise and hops up to the headboard. Etienne turns and raises his eyebrow just slightly. Joshua Losstarot puts the box loudly on the side table and roughly yanks his brother's shoulder over to face him.

"Wake up, Izzy. You have a society to impress."

Isillud stares blankly through dull green eyes. Joshua removes the last tray and puts it in front of him. "See this? The dowager acknowledges you. Mother would've been proud." The crow tilts its head at the baked delicacies, plucking an eclair and gliding over to Etienne's work desk to pass to him.

Joshua grips his brother's chin between his fingers; the Fury lives in his voice, in the determination writ across his face. "You want expectations to live up to? Live up to the lord of House Losstarot's. Live up to mine."

╔═════ஓ๑♥๑ஓ═════╗ 

        end 

╚═════ஓ๑♥๑ஓ═════╝

[pocketvenuslux]

I'm reviewing a discontinued classic today - the extremely popular Fifi set from Agent Provocateur. It's a sentimental set for me because it's the first AP set I bought but it's also quite special because of certain details you don't find in the classic AP sets anymore.

Fifi was first created in 2003 when Sarah Shotton was a junior designer. Apparently the set was influenced by Liz Taylor as Cleopatra - though I do find the vibe more naughty and thrill seeking than the imperious presence of Taylor, there are a number of costumes featuring the pleating that makes Fifi so distinct.

The French Chantilly lace by Sophie Hallett is quite pretty - Hallett laces have been used by many designers like Alexander McQueen, Dolce & Gabbana, Maison Margiela and other luxury lingerie brands. The lace here is sewn in a way that drapes not only upwards over your cleavage, but again over the bra cups. It is also ruffled on the garter. Using this much lace feels both extravagant but also extra frilly and frivolous. The pleated tulle, repeated in all three pieces, is also quite unique and spares no expense, adding texture and interest to this monochrome set and giving you the impression of something quite delicate, even though the set itself is sturdy. Everything is also finished with suitably dainty picot edging and I love how the thong features a grossgrain ribbon not at the top of the front, but midway down the design which strikes me as very cheeky.

In terms of fit, Fifi provides fantastic lift while the unique suspender flares over the hips, giving a stronger impression of an hourglass shape - which is precisely what Shotton was designing for.

Fifi was among the sets eventually chosen for AP's Classics line along with other discontinued favourites like Nikita, Lacy, Gloria, and Amelea. The Classics were not seasonal though they came in different seasonal colour ways (which was not as common for AP as it is today). This was also when AP was moving into differentiating its products into higher and lower tier products (Soiree, which had reflective gold tags) and the diffusion AP brand (which were sold on a separate website). As you can see above, the Classics had their own, black tags.

Fifi didn't remain static over the years. In addition to a white colour way pictured above, I can recall a classic red, forest green and pale pink and black combination which really made the lace pop and echoed AP's pink and black branding.

As well, at around this time, cost-cutting resulted in a different design for the suspender, the first piece of the set to be designed. Those diaphanous layers were eventually cut down from three generous tiers to one tier - and the lace is not ruffled. It's still cute and flirty but nowhere near as expensive to make as the original design. Of the original, Shotton has said, "The suspender, because it's skirty, takes it somewhere else. You could get the knicker and bra and it would like quite Bridget Bardot, '60s - something you wear as an everyday set. Then, you put the suspender on in the evening and you're like a different woman, a little bit milkmaid but a little bit naughty."

Eventually, Fifi was phased out along with Nikita and other sets I used to think of as defining the AP brand. Overall, I really love these older AP sets and without them, AP just doesn't feel the same to me. Some newer designs are still creative and beautiful but I have noticed a growing reliance on reusing patterns, as well as far less silk and expensive laces used in designs. I can't imagine the AP of today creating a set like this at its "regular" tier anymore.

Fabric: 57% polyester, 31% polyamide, 125 elastane

Made in Morocco

Photos: AP; mine; depop

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode nationale, no. 5, 5 février 1898, Paris. No. 8. — Groupe de toilettes. Modèles de la Mson Balmain sœurs, 46, rue Ste Anne. Modèles de Mme Collet, 10 rue Taitbout. Bibliothèque nationale de France

(1) Toilette de jeune fille, en drap bleu électrique. Jupe entièrement plate, garnie d'une légère soutache formant tablier, et tournant jusque derrière. Corsage boléro en drap de la même teinte également soutaché et laissant voir une chemisette de taffetas bleu électrique.

(1) Young girl's ensemble, in electric blue cloth. Completely flat skirt, trimmed with a light soutache forming an apron, and turning all the way to the back. Bolero bodice in cloth of the same shade also attached and revealing an electric blue taffeta shirt.

Matériaux: 6 mètres drap, 4 mètres taffetas.

—

(2) Toilette de promenade en drap mordoré. Jupe toute plate et unie. Corsage blouse en drap mordoré garni d'un empiècement de velours miroir mordoré se continuant en pointe sur les manches et entouré d'un galon brodé de perles de toute nuances. Ceinture de velours garnie du même galon remontant sur le corsage en corselet et de boutons miniatures entourant la taille.

(2) Walking ensemble in bronze cloth. Very flat and plain skirt. Blouse bodice in bronze cloth trimmed with a yoke of bronze mirror velvet continuing in a point on the sleeves and surrounded by a braid embroidered with pearls of all shades. Velvet belt trimmed with the same braid going up the corselet bodice and miniature buttons surrounding the waist.

Matériaux: 7 mètres drap.

—

(3) Toilette de dîner en crêpe de Chine mauve. Jupe sans couture et toute plate. Corsage en crêpe de Chine mauve recouvert de mousseline de soie crème et de Chantilly noir. Corselet découpé, formant crevés, en broderie Louis XV multicolore. Encolure en dentelle noire, paquet de violettes au pied du col.

(3) Purple crepe de chine dinner ensemble. Seamless and flat skirt. Mauve crepe de chine bodice covered with cream silk chiffon and black Chantilly. Cut-out corselet, forming crevés, in multi-colored Louis XV embroidery. Black lace neckline, bunch of violets at the base of the collar.

Matériaux: 15 mètres crêpe de Chine; 4 mètres mousseline soie en 120.

—

(4) Toilette de réception en satin noir. Jupe entièrement recouverte de petits volants de mousseline de soie noire, froncés. Corsage blouse en tulle pailleté de perles et de paillettes bleues, ouvrant sur un grand empiècement de mousseline de soie noire plissée, encadré ainsi que le col de grosses perles bleues. Manches toutes plissées en mousseline de soie.

(4) Black satin reception ensemble. Skirt entirely covered with small gathered black silk chiffon ruffles. Blouse bodice in tulle sequined with pearls and blue sequins, opening onto a large panel of pleated black chiffon, framed as well as the collar with large blue pearls. Sleeves all pleated in silk chiffon.

Matériaux: 15 mètres satin, pour les volants de mousseline de soie sur 5 centimètres de hauteur compter 3 fois le tour de la jupe par volant.

—

(5) Jaquette blouse en drap brique, entièrement recouverte de galons de mohair formant damiers. Revers semblables, bordés ainsi que le col, la basque et le tour de la jaquette, d'un dépassant d'astrakan.

(5) Blouse jacket in brick cloth, entirely covered with mohair braid forming a checkerboard pattern. Similar lapels, bordered as well as the collar, the basque and the edge of the jacket, with an excess of astrakhan.

Matériaux: 3 mètres drap.

—

(6) Toilette de jeune femme, en velours vert gris. Jupe plate et unie. Corsage également en velours avec petits crevés laissant voir une chemisette en mousseline de soie crème garnie de dentelle. Le devant du corsage et les crevés sont garnis d'un étroit galon d'acier. Col et ceinture en satin vert avec barrettes d'acier.

(6) Young woman's ensemble, in gray green velvet. Flat, plain skirt. Bodice also in velvet with small slits revealing a cream silk chiffon blouse trimmed with lace. The front of the bodice and the slits are trimmed with narrow steel braid. Green satin collar and belt with steel barrettes.

Matériaux: 16 mètres velours; mousseline de soie, 1 m. 50.

[lines-on-ice]

Fics Masterlist

Works list on AO3 :

https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naelia/works

Yuri!!! On Ice Fandom :

Completed :

Our Melody : https://archiveofourown.org/works/43290984

"He hears a bright note, then another. He hears them again, the same two notes, as he is entering a layback spin, and even in dreaming, he smiles. He knows what it means.

-

An AU where soulmates hear the same music in their heads. An AU where Victor is notoriously Tune Deaf and can't hear anything like that."

Magic in the Air : https://archiveofourown.org/works/45095416

"Yuri snorts, taking the wooden spoon out of the caldron and waving his hand to magic out the flames under the recipient. Viktor is already disposing the glass vials next to it, ready to be filled with tonight’s potion.

“Yeah, right. You don’t like this house, Viktor, you just like the neighbor. You’re always flirting with him. And that’s disgusting, by the way, stop it.”

An AU starting at Halloween and ending on Valentine's day. The best stories are made of magic, aren't they?"

[Explicit] Stinging Rain : https://archiveofourown.org/works/47901193

""Color, Vitya?”

The sub turns his neck this way and that to relieve some of the tension. Next thing will be new, something they’ve been discussing lately and something Viktor is very curious to try. Anticipation makes his skin prickle and he nods swiftly:

“Green. Very green.”

A hand under his skull lifts his head up and soft lips press to his own, before Yuuri murmurs against them.

“Good.”

Or: Victor and Yuuri celebrate Pride discovering New Kinks.

For Yuri on the Web Discord Pride Event 2023 - Contains exclusive fan art."

Queen Mila, Driver of Passion : https://archiveofourown.org/works/49831387

""The Queen once again turned her attention to the roses she had been sitting next to. The vibrant purple of their petals was the exact same shade of her lover’s eyes, and Oh! How she longed for her sweet embrace."

Mila, Queen of the Kingdom of Hearts, is the Driver of Passion. Yet, her own passion has taken over her heart and she now longs for the One She Loves...

For the Yuri On Cards collaboration"

Knight Sara, Borrower of Sorrow : https://archiveofourown.org/works/49831570

"Unthinkingly, her hand reached out to the Red Rose that adorned her dark hair. Her fingers traced every petal in a well-practiced manner.

Sara is the Knight of Sorrows, destined to fight other's sorrows, but could she still find happiness?

For the Yuri On Cards collaboration"

Until My Feet Bleeds And My Heart Aches - Official French Translation : https://archiveofourown.org/works/11333628

Ongoing :

The Chocolate Guy : https://archiveofourown.org/works/45342445

""I can't wait to see next season, I bet he has so many surprises in store…"

Yuuri is now finishing up the Chantilly, and setting it to cool, closing the refrigerator with a dreamy sigh that doesn’t escape Phichit’s notice. He smirks, pulling out his phone while asking:

"Speaking of the next season of 'The Chocolate School'... On a scale from one to 'I'm packing my bags right now', how much would you like to be in it?"

----

Viktor Nikiforov is The Chocolate Guy, undisputed ruler of the pastry world, Chocolatier Extraordinaire and Yuuri's inspiration. But it is one thing to emulate his idol's creations in his own kitchen, and a whole other deal to end up meeting him in person participating in his TV show..."

You Are The Star I Am Dancing For : https://archiveofourown.org/works/51452398

"Yuuri sighs and locks his phone to put it back in his pocket. He really doesn’t like that his friend seems to worry more about his reaction to last week’s debacle than about the incident itself. Since Monday night, Phichit simply act as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, remaining his bouncy chipper self, eager to dance whatever it is they have to dance to this week, and every bit as confident in their ability as the first day they met and he had declared in front of the camera that he couldn’t have had a better partner to win this thing.

How Yuuri hates having let him down so thoroughly…

“We were almost eliminated, Phichit.”

----

A Dancing With The Stars AU where some characters are still skaters but others are pro dancers... Yuuri gets to compete with Victor! Hop in to see how it goes...

The fic is rated Explicit for a smut chapter that will come (very) later on and will be fully signaled in the previous chapter. If any other adulty content happens (again, in later chapter) it will be fully signaled in beginning notes and in the chapter itself to be skipped.

Contains original ART by YOI artists!

- Updates Monthly-ish -"

Write Me In C Major - Official French Translation : https://archiveofourown.org/works/11722560 - hiatus from original author

[hakkiest]

tagged by @futuregrass: tag 9 people you'd like to get to know better (this is so sweet !!!)

Last song: Dr. Johann Averies by daneshevskaya. I was listening to it on the walk home from uni and god... this song breaks my heart at parts. and what a VOICE!!!

Favorite color: Shades of white. Off-white, ice, beige, cream, dirty white. Or any shade of green, blue, grey, purple and pink that are so pale theyre almost muted.

Currently watching: not watching any tv shows rn!!! I'm thinking of starting Yellowjackets tho.

Last movie: The LAST one was technically Terrifier 2011 but the last new one was 대외비 권력의 탄생 by Lee WonTae. It was good!!! I liked it a lot.

Currently reading: so I'm Trying to get through Karamazovi by Dostoyevski but this is Dragginggg (altho @misa-ndry eonni said it gets gay later?). I'm also reading (and actually enjoying) El Sentido de la Lectura by Ángela Pradelli which is so so so good I'm loving it, well on its way to be one of my fave books

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Sweet BUT I love spicy and minty and acid flavors. I love them all together!!! Well not acid but like, pepper chocolate? or mint ice cream? yeah!!!

Relationship status: Single!

Current obsession(s): Researching artists, knowing more about them. Taking photos while on walks. In general I've been walking a lot lately. I've also been eating a lot of honeycrisp apples! And enjoying Florbela Espanca and Bia de Luna poems, and Argentinian chronists. I'm also listening to a lot of R&B.

Last thing I googled: I was doing research about French renaissance gardens. Last thing I googled was about the Chantilly château garden.

Currently working on: I'm painting this gesso frame for a mirror. I'm also making a little haunted dollhouse. I'm also making some jewelry. I'm also getting through my quite honestly unreasonable to read pile. Also I'm researching Lucia Dovicakova for an uni assignment!.

tagging @brownpilled @femmeofarc @kashmiribarbiedoll @survivalinstinct @jabaleya

[mr-styles]

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