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pucksandpower · 1 year ago

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The Girlfriend Test

Lando Norris x girlfriend!Reader

Summary: no new LN merch is deemed ready for sale unless it passes the girlfriend test (or in which you are Lando’s favorite hoodie thief and the sight of another driver’s brand on you drives him just a little bit crazy)

You hear the front door open and close, followed by the sounds of Lando rummaging around in the entryway. “Babe, I’m home!” He calls out.

You’re curled up on the couch in his latest hoodie design, a soft charcoal grey number with black sleeves and his LN logo embroidered over the heart.

“In here!” You reply. Lando comes into the living room and smiles when he sees you wearing his new creation.

“Well hello there, hoodie thief,” he says, leaning down to give you a quick peck on the lips before flopping down on the couch next to you. “So I see you found my newest sample.”

You grin and snuggle further into the super soft fleece. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is my hoodie now.”

Lando laughs and tugs lightly on the hood. “Oh is it now? I could’ve sworn this was a prototype I brought home from my design meeting a few days ago.”

“Nope, definitely mine,” you say cheekily. “It’s so cozy I don’t think I can ever take it off.”

“In that case, I guess it passes the girlfriend test with flying colors,” Lando declares. At your confused look, he elaborates. “Oh, I never told you about the girlfriend test? I can’t launch a new LN design until you have stolen it out of my closet. That’s how I know for sure it’s comfy enough for my fans.”

You raise an eyebrow in amusement. “You’re telling me every hoodie so far has passed this supposed test?”

“You got it,” Lando grins. “I’ll leave the samples laying around and if you end up snagging one and wearing it all the time, I know it’s prime merchandise.”

You think back and realize it’s true — Lando’s hoodies have a habit of migrating into your wardrobe. The papaya one is your go-to for grocery store runs. The tie-dye version is your favorite for lazy Sundays. Even the bold purple hoodie he released last month has already earned a permanent place on your desk chair.

“So you mean to tell me this was all part of your master plan?” You ask in mock offense. “And here I thought I was sneakily stealing your comfiest clothes.”

“Baby, if I really didn’t want you wearing my stuff, I wouldn’t make it so tempting to take,” Lando says sincerely, wrapping an arm around you. “But it makes me so happy to see you in my designs, wearing my brand.”

You cuddle into his shoulder. “That’s really sweet, babe.”

“Anything for my number one fan and favorite hoodie model,” he says, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

You snuggle together in contented silence for a few minutes, your head tucked perfectly under his chin.

“So, how was the simulator today?” You ask. “Get some good practice in for Monza this weekend?”

Lando nods. “Yeah, had a really solid session. Tweaked a few things with the setup that I think will help with the low downforce.”

“Nice,” you say. “Maybe another podium this week?”

“We’ll see,” Lando replies. “Ferrari looked quick in Spa so it could be tough. But I feel good going into the weekend.”

“Well, I know you’ll kill it babe,” you say supportively. Lando smiles gratefully and pulls you closer.

“But anyway, enough about F1. How was your day off?” He asks.

You launch into a recap of your relaxed day — sleeping in, catching up on chores, and working on some creative projects you’ve had on the backburner. Lando listens intently, asking questions and commenting on the new songs and recipes you’re dying to try. The conversation flows easily, as it always does between you two.

Before you know it, Lando’s stomach rumbles loudly and you both crack up. “I guess that means it’s dinnertime,” you say, checking your phone. “Pizza sound good?”

“You read my mind,” Lando replies. While you call in the usual order from your favorite local pizza joint, Lando queues up Netflix and scrolls through options for tonight’s viewing.

Thirty minutes later you’re back on the couch, the coffee table littered with pizza boxes and cans of soda. Lando hits play on an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and you settle in, toes tucked under his legs to stay cozy.

You’re only halfway through the episode when you feel Lando’s gaze on you. You turn and find him staring at you wearing his newest hoodie creation, a small smile on his lips.

“What’s that look for?” You ask around a mouthful of pizza.

Lando shakes his head, the smile growing wider. “Nothing really. Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

You tilt your head curiously and he continues. “I have my dream job, getting to race cars for a living. And then I come home to you and … I don’t know. It just feels really good. Like everything is kind of falling into place.”

You set down your pizza slice and cuddle up to him. “Aww babe. That’s so sweet.” You give him a greasy kiss on the cheek. “I’m the lucky one you know. I get to see you living your dream every day. And then I get to be here to celebrate the wins with you and cheer you up after the tough days. It’s pretty amazing.”

Lando wraps both arms around you in a hug. “Love you so much,” he says softly.

“Love you more,” you whisper back, your head tucked perfectly under his chin once again.

***

The next evening, you’re sprawled across the bed browsing on your phone when you hear Lando come home.

“Honey, I’m home!” He calls out in a sing-song voice. You grin, expecting him to come give you a kiss. But instead you hear his footsteps stop abruptly.

“Babe, what … is that?” Lando asks slowly.

You look up confused. “What do you mea-”

Then you spot what he’s staring at in horror: the soft teal hoodie you’re wearing with an embroidered Enchanté logo across the front.

“Oh this?” You say casually. “It’s from Daniel’s new merch drop. The fleece is so soft, I couldn’t resist snagging one.”

Lando’s jaw drops open. “You … you bought a hoodie? From a competing merch brand?”

You stifle a laugh at how seriously Lando is taking this. “Well yeah, you gotta support your friends right? And I told you how comfy it looked in his posts.”

Lando just blinks slowly, looking utterly betrayed. You almost feel bad for riling him up.

“Babe, come on, don’t look at me like that! You know I’m your number one fan.” You get up and go to hug him, but Lando dodges you.

“Nope. No hugs until that … that enemy hoodie comes off,” he says dramatically.

Now you really have to hold back your laughter. “Lando, don’t be silly.”

But he crosses his arms and sticks his chin up. “I’m dead serious, Y/N. My own girlfriend, wearing another man’s merch!” He shakes his head in despair.

You bite your lip, trying not to smile at his antics. Time to have some more fun with this.

“Well if you’re going to be like that, maybe I’ll just keep it on,” you say nonchalantly, snuggling back into the ridiculously soft fleece.

Lando’s eyes go wide. “You wouldn’t dare!”

You raise your eyebrows challengingly. “Try me.”

You stare each other down for a few tense moments, before Lando huffs loudly.

“Fine then. Desperate times call for desperate measures.” And with that ominous statement, he lunges forward and lifts you up, tossing you over his shoulder.

“Lando!” You shriek through laughter. “Put me down!”

But he marches down the hall determinedly, you still slung over his shoulder. He brings you into the living room and gently tosses you onto the couch. Before you can react, he rips the Enchanté hoodie up over your head in one swift move.

“Lando!” You squeal, trying to reach for the hoodie, but he’s quicker. In a flash, he has the offending article of clothing in his grip.

“How could you bring this … this enemy propaganda into our home?” Lando accuses dramatically. He holds the hoodie between two fingers like it’s contaminated.

You have to press a hand over your mouth to contain your giggles. Lando looks utterly scandalized at the sight of you in his rival’s merch.

“I’m sorry babe, but you left me no choice,” Lando says solemnly. And with that, he crosses the room, opens the fireplace, and tosses the hoodie in.

You gasp loudly. “Lando Norris, did you just burn my hoodie?”

“I had to protect the sanctity of this home! Can’t have you falling for another man’s branding,” Lando exclaims. But you can see his facade cracking as he fights back a smile of his own.

You get up from the couch and poke him in the chest. “You’re absolutely ridiculous, you know that?”

Lando grins sheepishly. “Maybe. But you love me.”

You roll your eyes but can’t fight back your own smile. “Debatable at the moment,” you joke.

Lando pouts and gives you his best puppy dog eyes. “Come onnnn, you know I’m your favorite driver.”

You pretend to think about it for a moment. “Hmm well Daniel does give the best hugs ...”

“Hey!” Lando exclaims and tackles you into a bear hug. You dissolve into giggles as he squeezes you tight and sways you back and forth.

“Nope, absolutely not allowed,” he declares, still holding you captive.

You lean back to look up at him with a smile. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because you’re my girl and I don’t share,” Lando states matter-of-factly. His eyes are soft now as he gazes down at you.

You feel your heart melt a little. You stand on your tiptoes to give him a sweet kiss. “You’re right, I’m all yours Lando.”

His answering smile is dazzling. But then a thought seems to occur to him and a grin spreads across his face.

In one smooth motion, he strips off the neon green hoodie he’s wearing, leaving just a black t-shirt underneath. Before you can react, he pulls it down over your head, enveloping you in soft fleece that smells like him.

“There. That’s better,” Lando declares satisfied.

You snuggle happily into Lando’s worn hoodie, his warmth still lingering in the fabric. Looking down, you recognize it as the exclusive design he wore constantly last season.

Lando’s eyes crease with happiness as he looks at you swimming in his hoodie. “That’s my girl,” he says softly, pulling you close again.

You nuzzle into his chest, perfectly content.

“Am I forgiven for my momentary lapse in loyalty?” You ask cheekily, peering up at him.

Lando pretends to consider this for a moment. “Hmmm, I guess I can let it slide this one time,” he teases back. “But only because you look so damn cute in my clothes.”

You smile and tighten your arms around him. You sway together slowly, Lando humming tunelessly under his breath. The fireplace crackles gently beside you.

After a few moments, Lando speaks again, his voice quiet. “You know I was only joking around before, right? You can wear whatever you want babe.”

You lean back to meet his gaze. His brown eyes are warm but serious now.

You touch his cheek softly. “Of course I know that Lando. Your hoodies might be the comfiest, but they’re not the only clothes I own.”

Lando nods, looking relieved that you understand. “I just never want you to feel like you have to choose between me and your own style or interests.” His voice is earnest. “I want you to always feel free to be yourself.”

Your heart swells at his words. You reach up and kiss him tenderly. When you pull back, Lando is smiling again.

“Thanks babe,” you say. “That really means a lot to me. And same to you, obviously.”

Lando grins. “Of course, it’s you and me against the world! Oh, and McLaren against the other teams,” he adds cheekily.

You laugh and snuggle back into his chest. “Yes, McLaren over all,” you agree, just to make him happy.

“That’s my girl,” Lando says again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

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serpentface · 2 months ago

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CAELIN/DELKHIN FOODS: AN EXTREMELY BROAD OVERVIEW

Horselord nomad horking down a blood + seed + cheese sausage while his 4 month old humbly requests a sample. The hard cheeses eaten by some delkhin societies have next to no lactose and can be digested by adults with little issue, but it's too risky for babies. The sausage is too big anyway. It's cooked blood and grasshopper mash for you, son.

Caelin and delkhin are obligate carnivores and can digest very little plant matter (and far less without the use of cooking). The majority of their diets derive from animal protein, and may be supplemented by certain fruits and cooked grains and seeds.

They also have FAR fewer taste receptors than a human and are altogether incapable of tasting sugars. Taste plays a very minimal role in eating to begin with, its function is ultimately a simple matter of determining whether something is safe to be (immediately) swallowed. They have no chewing mechanism whatsoever and swallow food whole.

Because of this, enjoyment of food does not derive from the flavor, which can/will barely be tasted anyway. The more complex and pleasurable aspects of eating stem from visual and tactile interaction with the food before and during swallowing.

The aesthetic qualities of food are very important and sensibilities vary culturally, but an underlying common element is that most 'good looking' food also looks like it can be swallowed whole and will have a pleasing or interesting texture in the process. (IE for the vast majority of sensibilities, a sticky rice ball will look more pleasing than a bowl of rice). To many human sensibilities, some of the most carefully prepared foods might look like an unfortunate chunky meat mash, perhaps strangely sprinkled with petals or insect wings, while an observer from the food's source culture may note the pleasantly contrasting textures and colors, the striking robustness of the meat against the delicacy of its visual seasoning.

Most ‘seasoning’ is for purely visual purposes and plays no role in taste. Prepared meals may be sprinkled non-toxic flower petals or seeds, layered with insect parts (raw or cooked), or dusted with salt for both visual appeal and as a supplement of needed minerals. Pigmented seasonings are very popular and may be slathered across prepared food items for visual flare. Arthropod-derived pigments that may be considered exclusively dyes in other contexts are often used as food coloring by caelin.

Whole meats may be cut to appeal to aesthetic sensibilities, highlighting texture and fat content. ‘Throat-feel’ tends to be important for the shape of cuts, though opinions on what the best throat-feel is varies by culture (the most common denominator seems to be ‘provides a feeling of fullness without any difficulty in swallowing’).

Shaping food items in unique ways also adds both aesthetic and variable throat-feel qualities. Eating meat and cooked grain in meatball or sausage form is very common, ranging from very thick links to almost noodle-like sausages using the intestines of small mammals as casing,

Eating live vertebrates (usually stunned or dying) is more common than in human cultures (both for obvious physiological reasons and because the ancestors of all caelin/delkhin would have done so on the regular as a natural facet of hunting small prey). In some cases this is ultimately a matter of appealing throat-feel, in others it plays a more specified part in specific rites or medicinal practices. Opinions on the acceptability of this practice/what animals are acceptable vary tremendously. Eating live fish tends to be uncontroversial outside of groups with spiritual/ethical objections to consuming anything alive whatsoever, opinions on small reptiles and mammals are more variable.

Caelin have extremely acidic stomachs (a trait somewhat reduced in delkhin) and have significant resistance (though not immunity) to bacteria and parasites in their diet. Eating meat raw is overall Less risky for them than it is for humans, and some cultures will intentionally allow meat to rot to various degrees as a form of delicacy (though some sensibilities consider eating rotten meat to be an act of desperation, or low class). In general, most cultures regularly eat meat in both raw and cooked forms, and the average person will eat most of their meat dried for longterm preservation but will tolerate a mild degree of rot.

Foods are often dipped in oils (usually rendered animal fats) for an appealing sheen and needed extra calories. Blood or wine may serve similar purposes. Where strong liquors are consumed as a regular part of life, they're usually integrated into the diet as a psychoactive dip for meats.

The staple elements of the diet depend on subsistence methods, but insects often play a very large role. Caviar ants are a common staple in warm/wet areas for large societies, as they are the easiest and most productive source of protein to sustain an obligate carnivorous populace. In drier areas, one needs vast amounts of livestock to sustain a large society- most of the biggest caelin and delkhin civilizations are clustered in highly productive grassland for this reason.

Big, livestock-dependent and heavily class-stratified societies are the only contexts in which a large portion of the population is dependent on vegetable matter. Members of lower classes may have a baseline diet consisting of cooked grain (grown predominantly for livestock feed) mixed with blood, supplemented by foraged insects and eggs. This is Survivable, but not healthy and can result in severe malnutrition without being supplemented on a regular basis.

Where large vertebrates are consumed, eating the entirety of the animal is especially vital. All organ meat and flesh will be eaten, tendon and bone not needed for material will be cooked down and pulverized for consumption, etc. Some cultures actively eat small amounts of fur or feathers, seeing it as a means of cleansing the digestive system. Aversions to certain forms of offal are very rare and only tend to develop in class stratified cultures, in which regular consumption of the most favored meats is reserved/only regularly accessible for upper classes (though in these cases, the aversion tends to be towards the more preservable, less nutritious lean muscle meats than nutritious, perishable organs and fatty cuts).

Some caelin societies live as scavenger-nomads, where small family units follow large herds of wild (or semi-domesticated) game, forage the insects they kick up, and eat their dead (either passively waiting for deaths, chasing away predators from kills of their herd, or actively picking off elderly or injured animals). The basis of this subsistence method is ancestral to both caelin and delkhin (prior to the latter becoming flightless in island isolation), and the first anatomically modern caelin and khait essentially domesticated each other via this continuing relationship. This is ultimately the most energy-efficient mode of subsistence for caelin as a species, with the only (debatable) downside being that it does not support large, concentrated populations.

Caelin and delkhin nomadic pastoralists slaughter livestock at a higher rate than most human pastoralists do, as they have fewer options for supplementing their diet outside of their livestock. Total reliance on fast-breeding livestock like horses is more common than dependence on slow-breeding cattle, camala, or khait. The lifestyle still necessitates reliance on living animals as renewable resources and sources of wealth, so most animal protein will still be acquired without slaughter.

Blood can be especially important to nomadic pastoralists as a primary means of consuming their valuable livestock without actually killing them. Livestock can be bled in rotation, minimally injuring the animal and giving each time to heal before being tapped again. Blood is eaten in congealed pastes, sausages, or mashed together with thoroughly cooked grain and seeds to form a patty.

Some pastoralists have relatively unique practices of consuming dairy products. As they are not mammals, caelin/delkhin do not produce the lactase enzymes necessary to digest lactose whatsoever, and their digestive systems will react to milk essentially the same way as a lactose-intolerant human. However, some forms of heavily strained yogurts and hard cheeses have so little lactose that they can pass through a healthy adult’s digestive system without issue (unless eaten in excess). These dairy products are very valuable as high calorie foodstuffs that can be acquired from livestock both without slaughter and without any injury whatsoever.

Dairy products tend to be a divisive subject that plays a role in conflict between settled agriculturalists and pastoralists. A large proportion of settled societies see dairy products as unclean or unnatural for consumption by anything but baby mammals. Some use this as one of many xenophobic justifications for land conflict with nomadic herders, characterizing their consumption of milk as one of many indications that their foes are uncivilized or animalistic.

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Some misc food examples

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lil-leviathan · 19 days ago

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THAT'S A WEARABLE ITEM!!! Now all I have to do is hem the edges!

At this point, there will be some more divergence between this hood as it exists for the competition and the extant garment. The original garment has a small amount of decorative stitching and embellishment. However, I still want to dye this hood and do more work to turn it into a garment that I can continue to wear for years. To that end I've made some samples of the decorative stitching that will be displayed alongside the hood and will be added later.

Also, the extant hood is ONLY hemmed with a simple blanket stitch, not even turned in. For the competition I will do that, but after I dye the hood I will turn in the edges and add a tablet woven band for strength and decoration. I think I may use my woolen Dublin Dragons pattern, or potentially one from my Finnish Iron Age book.

WE GOT THIS! AFTERWARDS ALL THATS LEFT IS THE DOCUMENTATION BOOK REPORT!

#my posts #my art #weaving #fiber art #spinning #scadian #mysca

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drinking-paintwater · 9 months ago

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hi hi hi!!! i’m not a natural dye expert by any means but i have experience working with it and i LOVE yapping about natural dye and historical fashion so. this post is really buzzing around my brain. i'm so so sorry for the absolutely incoherent rant i'm about to subject you to. (obviously this is just me and my experiences with dye processes talking. again. not the expert.)

(under a read more because good god i'm just yapping away here.)

first off, can i throw another contender in the ring for what color is Irene's Color™?? consider. indigo!! indigo is a natural dye that gives a beautiful blue, very deep and very rich. it's perfect for irene's hood-cloak-thing. HOWEVER. assuming your ru'an is based off of europe, you run into a similar-ish problem with tyrian purple, in that it is probably inaccessible to the average person---it would probably be imported into ru'an. perhaps from tu'la, which would have very interesting implications as to the relationship between tu'la and ru'an, and perceptions of the ru'anians who use indigo, especially after the tu'la invasion should you keep that in your rewrite. (maybe it could be a compromise between woad and tyrian purple?? perhaps??)

and that brings me to another thing!! what dye plants grow in ru'an and where? because that is a very important question that affects what colors your characters have access to. you can absolutely have naturally dyed greens and pinks. that is a thing that CAN exist with natural dye---i have seen it and i have done it---but it is dependent on what plants exist and where they're growing, like the indigo plant that i've mentioned.

assuming, again, that ru'an = europe. they would have access to madder (red) and weld (yellow---very bright yellow). disclaimer, my experience with naturally dyed green is with indigo. i've never worked with woad before. BUT. in theory. you should be able to dye something in weld and then dye it again in woad to get green. it's a slightly different process with indigo but that particular dye may or may not even be available in metelli anyways, so it doesn't really matter.

although. tangent about green in medieval-and-renaissance-ish europe. it was a wealthy people color, as you have to essentially dye the material twice when using natural dye. it was a way to flaunt your wealth without breaking sumptuary laws, which were established because the nobility really didn't like the new money tradesmen now being able to afford to "dress above their station" aka dress like the nobility. (i could go on about sumptuary laws but they essentially limited who could wear what and how much of a given material someone could use. like silk---you can only wear so much silk in your outfit if you aren't noble or whatever.) of course you don't have to use sumptuary laws, but i do think the implications of laurance (and cadenza) wearing green in this context would be fascinating.

okay so. about my claim that you can get naturally dyed pink. abandon all hopes of, like, hot pink at the door. BUT. a super light percentage of madder will give you, like, different shades of salmon pink. super pretty!! (you can find a picture of these pinks here https://blog.bindandfold.com/?p=570.)

see, when you dye something, the amount of time you have it in the dye bath doesn't typically matter? all that really matters is that you give the dye enough time to bond to the fiber you're dying, which is typically an hour (if you take out your fiber before the dye has enough time to bond to it, your color will fade. i have made this mistake. major bummer). what really matters is the WOF---the weight of fiber, or the percentage of dye material compared to the weight of the material you want dyed.

basically i would put less madder in my dye bath if i was trying to make pink, and more madder if i was trying to make a solid red, but both dye baths would need to sit for an hour to be colorfast and not fade.

also!! exhaust baths!! another way to get a lighter color (like pink)!! see, sometimes when you have a dye bath, there will still be dye particles leftover after you've run your first bath and taken your material out. you can (usually) still use this dye. you just put new fiber into it, and bam. we call this an exhaust bath---because the dye is "exhausted" . exhaust baths are always going to be lighter than the first bath, since they had less dye than the one that preceeded them. so long as the remaining dye particles have enough time to bond with the fiber, an exhuast bath should be just as colorfast as the first try. i've been able to get like, two or three dye baths out of the same pot of dye before. it works.

okay. i think that's all that i have in my brain. also i have definitely yapped on long enough. hope this was helpful!! good luck with your rewrite!!👍👍

when i’m trying to use a more plausible color scheme for everyone in my MCD rewrite (since it’s going to be set in a more underdeveloped time period, a lot of colors are going to be expensive/hard to find) and can’t decide what colors to give certain people 😭

im obviously gonna keep some of the original colors in the beginning (like Lord Burt wearing red because of its significance as a powerful color), but keep everyone’s else’s mostly plain. for example Nana won’t be an explosion of pink (although it will remain her favorite color), Aphmau won’t be wearing purple as often (the most common variation of the color was tyrian purple which took a very extensive amount of labor to make even one gram of the pigment. that, as well as the color being reserved for royalty), and Laurance won’t have as many green articles of clothing in the section of my rewrite portraying season two (the emerald green pigment was made from arsenic, which made it not only extremely toxic to produce but to wear as well as the skin would absorb the poison)

(i’m still debating about Dante and Garroth with their blue tones because it was a more common color amongst the poor people and was made with cheap, low quality dye, but Louis IX and Henry VIII started wearing it with other nobles and it became a color of high standing so…)

now this is also where I also come to a standstill because of these colors and what they used to represent. each Divine Warrior will have a color associated with them, which is where part of their symbolism will come from. however, I’m stuck on what color to give Irene

there’s a very brief clip somewhere I can’t remember when it appeared, but Irene was wearing a black two piece that seemed to be torn. I imagine this being something like her “first” outfit in the world so i’m not too worried about that one, but I’m more concerned about the one she wears when she’s portrayed

we see Irene wearing two cloaks from what I remember (my memory is garbage and I have yet to reach that far in anything). one of her cloaks was royal blue and the other is a lilac purple. the lilac purple would be a more difficult hue to achieve in the time period i’m reaching for, so either way i’m going to make the purple into a deeper shade.

i’m having such a war in my head about which color to choose for her, though. because both colors could signify who she is and i’m honestly debating just having different people give her different colors but I don’t know

on one hand, tyrian purple was a color reserved for royalty. using it could be used to show the high regard in which people in Ru’aun placed her. it could be used to signify their desire to have Irene rule as queen over the region before she diminished the monarchy and developed the Lord system instead. however, this color was made from a tiring process that required extensive amount of labor for barely anything to show the effort, and I feel as though the way to obtain the color doesn’t represent Irene the Matron

on the other hand, I feel as though a deeper blue pigment would be a better match. blue was original worn by peasants but the steady popularity it gained with nobility made it a more expensive and luxurious color for people that could afford it, as I previously said. this color I feel would fit better with her character to show that Irene came from humble beginnings and was put on a pedestal after her efforts for peace and becoming Lord of Scaleswind (which would be equal to blue becoming a color of nobility). the only problem with the blue is that the dye used by the peasants was low quality made from the woad plant that (from what i’ve seen) was dyed much lighter compared to the royal blue i’m talking about. i don’t know, maybe she got an upgrade at some point…

(can you tell i love the history behind colors)

(also if anyone has any other impactful information concerning colors please let me know i also actually love learning about it)

(and greatest apologies guys this is basically a yap post it has very little significance to anything)

#hopefully this made sense and my tone isn't like. obnoxious or anything.#anyways i love love love to yap about fiber processes and historical fashion and worldbuilding so this was extremely fun #i also still have my dye samples and my notes from my fashion history class so like. open invitation to ask me questions about this #kind of thing!! i can probably share some pictures of specific dye colors and materials that i've mentioned too if that would be helpful #also there totally is another way to get purple naturally without overdying or w/ tyrian purple if you're interested. cochineal my beloved.#throw a bunch of little bugs in a dye bath and they make this ruddy warm purple color. it's gorgeous. they're native to south america thoug #so probably not something available in medieval europe. but still!! very pretty.#a really good resource for natural dye information is maiwa---they're the company that my department buys all of their natural dyes from #they have more articles on their website about this sort of thing.#also i can't really vouch for her as i've literally just stumbled onto her but margaret byrd on yt might also be a good person to check out #at least when it comes to what material you might be able to get dye from.

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caffeinewitchcraft · 11 months ago

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Cinderella Doesn't Believe in Fairytales (pt 10)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3). (Part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9)

Summary: There are many sorts of meetings. Meetings you dread and meetings you anticipate. Baron Ramsey is overdue for both.

“I did not expect you to return so soon,” the Queen says. Her coal-like eyes flick over the Baron, cataloguing every inch of him. Did she see the dust clinging to his trousers, evidence of his haste to arrive? Did she see the tightness in his jaw at her welcome? Did she see the new bead of sweat rolling down his cheek? “Another week at the earliest.”

“I—” The Baron has to summon moisture to his mouth to speak. He swallows. “I was already within our borders when your message found me. Of course, I had no choice but to return.”

The Queen’s expression doesn’t change, but her aura does. She leans back in her throne and watches him through half-lidded eyes. “Why is it you think I called for you, Baron David Ramsey?”

To torment me, he thinks and doesn’t say. He wishes he would have listened to his wife all those years ago. She told him they must go unnoticed. He thought he had rid himself of his arrogance when he married her, but he was wrong. It had been arrogant of him to not heed her warning.

“There is a new type of dye in the southern islands,” he says. He spreads his hands wide. “If I had known your majesty had already heard of it, I would not have delayed in finding a sample. I hope you will understand. I was returning home after so many years abroad.”

The Queen never admits to not knowing. Her expression flickers. “Yes, the new dye…I am interested in it.”

A wave of relief rocks through him. This is familiar territory. Every request for a new product she gives him is another handful of months he can keep her attention away from his home and the secrets he has kept hidden there for 19 years. “It would be my privilege to acquire some products using this new dye for you, your majesty. I have made a promise to the Baroness to return home this month however, so there will be a delay—”

“Returning home to an empty house?”

The Baron blinks. “Pardon?” Then her words register and a surge of sick fear makes him sway on the spot. What has she done? He swallows twice before he can speak. “N-no, to my daughter – my daughters. To the Baroness.”

The Queen studies him. The Baron desperately tries to hold himself still. The Queen always speaks vaguely. He is hearing a threat where none exists. The Queen’s domain may extend past his manor, but her magic doesn’t. She doesn’t know, she can’t know. She is testing him. Should he have denied knowing that the higher nobility of this land were, in fact, the Unseelie Court?

Sweat rolls down his temple and he feels the Queen’s eyes track its progress.

“Then rejoice,” the Queen says at last. Her nails trace the arm of her throne. “Your journey is at an end. Your family is in the Capital.”

“Wha—” What?! The Baron bites his tongue so hard blood wells. The pain does little to clear the panic from his mind. “I—I was not aware.”

“I can see that,” the Queen says. The sharp edge in her gaze softens. Calculation crosses her face briefly and settles into an unsettling amusement. She smiles. “Yes, that makes sense. You wouldn’t have been home to receive the invitation. There is a ball, Baron David Ramsey. All eligible ladies of the kingdom are in the Capital for it, of course. Your…daughters included.”

A ball? It’s been three decades since the Queen last a held a ball, perhaps longer. Why now? His wife told him that the Unseelie Court was confined to the very core of their territory after the last great war. She predicted that their power would not be enough to free them for another hundred years. So why a ball? Why invite the human nobles across the land to come into the heart of the territory before they were recovered? Why—

The Prince. These are politics the Baron knows. The Prince has come of age this year. This isn’t an ordinary ball. The Royal Line must continue regardless of the powers they may or may not have recovered. A Prince needs a Princess.

The Unseelie Court is hunting for new blood.

“Then I suppose,” the Baron says faintly, “that I am not going home quite yet after all.” The unease the Queen voicing his name evokes fades next to the sick fear roiling in the Baron’s stomach. “By your leave, of course.”

“Nothing would make me happier than having your attendance at the ball tonight,” the Queen purrs. She extends a hand and an invitation appears in the air between them. She crooks her finger and it drifts into the Baron’s chest. “I guarantee that this will be a surprise reunion that no one will want to miss.”

The Baron’s clammy hand presses the invitation over his heart. Is it his imagination or can he feel oily tendrils seep from it and into his heart? Is the air colder? Without thinking, the Baron says, “Thank you for your consideration, your majesty.”

A wave of weakness washes over him as soon as his thanks leaves his lips. He staggers and his vision wavers. The Queen’s nostrils flare as she breathes in deeply, eyes fluttering shut. Does the King laugh behind his hand? Or does he cough?

His wife’s voice echoes in his mind. Never thank the fae. Never apologize. And especially never give thanks nor apology to the Unseelie.

“Don’t thank me yet, Baron,” the Queen says. When she opens her eyes they gleam with an unearthly purple. Black stains her mouth when she smiles. “Tonight. Thank me tonight.”

The order slips around his neck like a noose. The invitation throbs like a second heart. “Yes, my Queen,” the Baron whispers.

---------.

Cinderella watches the colors of the sunset catch in the crystals embroidered on her dress, red and pink and gold against the eggshell blue of the silk. Helga’s hands are gentle as she weaves Cinderella’s hair into an intricate knot.

“There,” Helga says. There’s a faint press of lips on top of Cinderella’s head, the move so effortlessly affectionate that Cinderella’s heart sings. Helga gently lifts Cinderella’s chin. “Take a look. We can change anything you don’t like.”

This afternoon with Helga has been magical. Cinderella doesn’t remember the last time she felt so at ease with another person besides the Prince. They talked and laughed and commiserated over her friend’s lack of communication, about nature, about what type of jam goes best on what type of bread, about everything and anything. Good food and good company has healed something deep inside of Cinderella, another crack sealing tight and holding. She can’t imagine not liking something that Helga has done for her.

She is still surprised when she sees herself in the mirror.

Last night’s gold jewelry highlighted Cinderella’s hair and the deep green of the dress. She remembers feeling beautiful and elegant and so, so confident.

Tonight is—well, it’s everything Cinderella feels.

It’s as if Helga listened to Cinderella’s recounting of the previous night and manifested every hope and every joyful memory into what Cinderella sees before her. She feels like she’s glowing. Rather than focus on her hair this dress throws her light eyes into brilliant focus. She blinks quickly. She didn’t realize she had her mother’s eyes until this moment.

Her jewelry is still dainty, but it all shines as brightly as the crystals dotted like flowers through the skirts of her dress. A single teardrop pendant hangs from a silver chain around her neck and diamond earrings reflect firelight as the castle lights the sconces around her room. Silver thread holds Cinderella’s hairstyle in place.

“I’m the sky,” Cinderella says breathlessly.

“And more,” Helga promises. There’s a knock on the door. Helga meets Cinderella’s eyes through the mirror and she smiles. “Your carriage has arrived, my lady.”

Cinderella’s heart leaps as she rises. The Prince is here. Her friend. Suddenly she feels…not insecure, not quite. There is a fluttering in her stomach as Helga goes to the door, a breathless anticipation that makes her feel weightless. She finds herself following Helga to the door, stopping a few feet behind her when the older woman opens it.

Oh, Cinderella thinks as, unerringly, the Prince’s eyes meet hers. The Prince is draped in a deep, night-sky blue, the same crystals on Cinderella’s dress sewn in clusters on his jacket. His black hair is swept away from his face and a thin, silver wire twines around one ear like a vine.

“You’re early,” Helga chastises the Prince.

The Prince jolts as if he didn’t notice Helga at all. “I thought it best if we had dinner before—”

“We match,” Cinderella says.

Helga jumps, spinning on one foot with her hand presses over her heart. “Oh! I didn’t hear you come up behind me...”

“Why,” the Prince says and pretends shock as he looks down at his outfit. “I think we do.”

Cinderella fights against a smile. “You knew I would choose the blue dress.”

“I had an inkling.”

Cinderella slides around Helga, barely noticing as the older woman wordlessly gives way. She takes the Prince’s arm when he offers it. “You said dinner?”

“That I did.”

Cinderella is full on bread and jam and juice. “I’d like that.”

“You could have sent a note,” Helga mutters. But she drapes a buttery-soft shawl around Cinderella’s shoulders to protect her against the evening chill and does not protest when the Prince leads her from Emerald Castle and into the gardens rather than to the carriage.

The gardens are a different world at night, especially seen from the ground rather than the window of her guest room. Small, wrought iron torches mark their path past the flower beds and towards the hedge maze.

“If you get us lost and we wind up being late again, I’m not walking in with you,” Cinderella says as they enter. The hedges smell slightly floral and she breathes the fresh scent in hungrily. Jasmine, maybe? “I saw the look the Queen gave you last night.”

“My mother doesn’t give looks to me,” the Prince denies. He grins at her. “And we won’t be late. Or, if we are, neither of my parents will be upset.”

Something in his voice gives Cinderella pause. “Because they love you so very much?”

“Because if we’re late, they’ll be late too,” the Prince says and directs her around one last corner into the center of the maze where the Queen and King are waiting at a table set for four.

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#my writing #cinderella retelling

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