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saliosis · 3 months ago

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happy halloweeen!! here's my take on a "core refresh" pack (part 6)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5 + more under cut

frankie's fashion is very experimental. they like to explore themselves through what they wear since they're just learning things about the world. to symbolize their personality, they have a "quirky" style of fashion. mostly mismatched, mostly all over the place. there's not really a category for frankie's style... not that i can think of. they like to wear anything, honestly. dresses, suits, overalls, shirts, shorts, boots, heels. they're trying to figure out their style, so sometimes they'll incorporate some more colors. they like black and white, but they add teal in. yellow is another color added.

they don't wear real/natural silver because they've learned that this can harm their fellow monsters. any silver accessories they have is fake (painted grey, because that's a way to work around it)

they experiment with piercings

this was in my og design, but they have a huge patch over their left eye. it's plaid, so sometimes they try their best to match their outfits well enough for them to look aesthetically pleasing

likes patterns. stripes, plaid, etc. etc.

clawdeen's fashion is furry and bold. again, this is the fashionista of the school. she is the queen of fashion. again, she likes fur and animal print. whatever she chooses to wear is what usually sets the trends and expectations for those at monster high. she loves to explore herself though. i'd say her style evolves, but these are the main ideas of her fashion. she loves purple, but she also loves green. maybe has a french fashion inspiration? i don't really know how to label it. it's sort of mcbling, but also the style you'd expect of a very cunty aunt who likes shopping. she likes pants best, ngl. jeans are great. skirts are fine by her, she just loves pants.

i like the idea of clawdeen constantly changing up her style. yes, she can also wear something like her g3 outfits. much more coordinated. what i've displayed is the style that takes up most of her closet, tho

she wears glasses, but she has different pairs for each outfit

green is a color she loves so much but doesn't make use of it enough

the wolf family has a little emblem thing i've snuck onto each. it's a golden circle pendant with a small moon on the inside, two little bars holding up the design so it floats. it could also look like a money symbol... idk like coins. it's good luck. mostly for money manifesting and all. she runs with the gold and goes crazy. only gold, no bronze accessories. ever.

on days of the full moon, she will wear super loose clothing. the moon cycles could also impact her fashion choices.

draculaura's fashion is very iconic. a sort of gothy, classic, and romantic sort of look. i'd say she likes to take a spin on victorian styles and make them modern... while also mashing together those 2010s pink/black skull prints and tees that we all know and love. i really like the idea of her in a long dress that hits the floor. i would say she's romantic goth. she likes frills, long ball gowns, lace, and hats that can cover her from the sun whenever she has to travel outside in the daytime. lots of slip dresses if she wants to be more casual. elegance, but done cutely.

the silhouette of an outfit is what matters most to her when it comes to fashion

if she wears a skirt, she wears a big petticoat underneath. a very big petticoat

her parasol can be used interchangeably with a large hat. she always wants either or to match her outfit. and they are always kind of extra

her "victorian" style is a sort of nod to her immortality. she probably likes that fashion period best and likes to try and honor that

i like the idea of her experimenting with her hair. it was a g3 idea, kinda. but bangs, streaks, half and half, etc. i like to imagine draculaura being into the big goth hair

cleo's style is very similar to her g1 style. gold. blues. elegant, fresh, modern, and incredibly easy on the eyes. obviously, she loves to flaunt her designer clothing around school. and since she is so popular, it's expected for her to serve look after look. you will never ever see her look bad. every cleo portrayal i've seen never has enough mummy wrap. she needs it to survive and yet, she only has like, one or two bands on her arms. my cleo's fashion is all about wrap-themed clothing. she has lots of wraps. sometimes she comes up with ways to mix that or even show off her monster trait and heritage. she loves see-through, glittery material too, obviously paired on top of something. but it's glamourous. it's rich. it's sometimes a little 90s inspired, but mostly fresh.

this cleo loves pants. loose pants work, i suppose. but she likes them baggy. one of the best examples of what she likes to wear for pants would be those baggy pyramid-textued pants i designed for her once

gets custom made jewelry (braclets, earrings, etc) that spell out her name in hieroglyphics

likes shorter skirts, but secretly admires longer skirts ten times more

blue lover. any shade. try her. she will obviously mix around her makeup, nails, and hair to work around whatever blue she's feeling

loves gems. lots of gems. real ones, obviously.

doesn't like socks very much. she can literally just do the same thing socks do for feet with mummy wrap. same with stockings

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mrs-elsie-barnes · 1 year ago

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The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 9

Fallen | Loki x Reader

Your captors attempt to break you and Loki keeps up his searching. With the help of the Avengers, can he finally rescue you?

Warnings: 18+, reader is imprisoned - lack of food, talk of being hungry/hunger strike, psychological torture, angsty, very angry Loki.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

“Change your clothes back you insolent little welp”

You refused to change, hugging the forest green cloak tighter, staring into the fire. The more he tried to control you the more the leaden ball of hatred grew inside. Every day your clothes were laid out for you, restrictive and traditional, cloying and controlling. And every day you changed the colours to match the man you missed. The insipid colours chosen for you gave way to the blue grey of his eyes. Brown became rich jet black. And the silver of your sigil became lustrous gold.

“I’ve told you before about your behaviour. How can I make you a bride when you remain so headstrong? If you refuse to control your magic it will be removed from you.”

You had been caught again, playing with the mortals. Sneaking away from your guards. Drinking at parties, making flowers dance for pretty ladies, listening to the poetry of the gentlemen as it fell from their lips, their fingertips. Making love appear between them, making love to them.

To his credit, he was no liar. Come the morning your magic couldn’t even fizzle. Your clothes remained the same huge petticoats, the colours and sigils a perfect match for your families.

And Loki had vanished from your memories.

Somehow the memory of that day was clear, but then the next thing you could remember was the flat in London. Your Grandad, who you had genuinely loved and believed in. The warm memory of watching TV together and reading books. Grandad had always been kind, unlike the shadow of the men in your memories, he liked your jokes and you enjoyed the way he could do card tricks, often at the most surprising of times. And now he was gone too and the worst pain of all was that he was never truly real. The only family you could remember and he’d been another trick.

Tears tracked down your face silently, cutting through the dust that settled there from your filthy surroundings. Perhaps he wasn’t truly your grandfather, but he’d spent so many years at your side. Hadn’t he comforted you when you were sad, didn’t he laugh along with your jokes, he took care of you when you were sick and, though neither of you left the flat for long, he’d imagined a better life with you as well.

Perhaps he’d been told to do those things, perhaps it was a glamour or a trick of some sort, but his hand in yours, squeezing it tight as he said his final goodbyes, that was real. The indents of wrinkles on his papery skin, the feel of his pulse slowing under his wrist, it was all real. And that’s what you held in the dark on the night, when the days rolled past and Loki didn’t come, you had been loved before. You had loved Loki on Asgard and your grandfather had loved you in that little flat.

Love would come for you again.

When the sun rose you rose too, forcing yourself to leave your melancholy tucked between the thin blanket and the mattress of your bed. Instead, you paced the small room looking for a foothold to see out of the window that sat high in the wall. This morning your attempt was aided by a stool, left by a guard the night before. It wobbled terribly on the flagged floor, but it gave you enough height that you could reach across the rough rock, beneath your fingers you felt a small snag in the wall and dug your nails in, creating a hand hold.

Pushing yourself higher using the very edge of the bed frame your feet left the stool and you heaved yourself forwards and reached for the sill of the window, pulling yourself into the alcove it created.

Crisp air blew in your face, salty from the sea that stretched before you and fresh from the grass that curled behind.

Outside the waves crashed against a towering rock face and you wondered if you were very far from your first prison. Hopefully moving you between locations was enough to draw the attention of your Prince, but just in case you ripped a length of fabric from your dress and tied it to the bars of the window, pushing the rest of it out to dangle and blow in the whipping wind. Judging by the long grass that grew around the base of the tower, there were very few people visiting the area, perhaps something as off as a fluttering in a normally empty window would be enough to grant you some means of escape.

Slowly you climbed down, catching your feet on the hem of your dress.

Your new outfit felt completely ridiculous. Gone were your sensible jeans and warm sweater, replaced with a balloon of chiffon petticoats and floral silks. Deep in your memory you knew that this was how you’d been dressed after you were removed from Asgard, the heavy skirts keeping you slow so you couldn’t run, the restrictive sleeves reducing your ability to wield magic as Frigga had taught you.

At least in the flat you’d been allowed to choose your own clothes, at the compound Natasha and Wanda had ordered you leggings and sweatpants. Even the silken dresses and stylish, magazine inspired clothes you’d conjured with Loki had been more practical and comfortable. It seemed an impossible task to escape when you were dressed like a toy doll.

“You can’t escape,” a voice spoke from a dark corner of the room. His magic, pale yellow, swirled around him and yanked you back from the window and onto the thin mattress with a thump. The voice vanished back into the darkness, replaced with the shimmering vision of another, surrounded by a yellow yellow.

Loki.

The image stalked across the room, his face full of malice and a sinister smile curling at the corner of his lips. It was a vision of him you’d seen before, on the television news during the invasion of New York, but then he’d been under the influence of Thanos, controlled and tortured, desperate for escape. He’d told you all about it while you were still at the compound, a hushed conversation bourne of a late night spent on his balcony drinking mead and staring into the inky darkness. You’d taken his hand then and held it, allowing your warmth to sink into his chilly skin, and he’d rubbed his thumb over your knuckles.

This Loki was a different man, the God you knew would never dream of approaching you like this, with hatred and venom. He’d looked at you many ways, with intrigue and interest, as if you were amusing and entertaining, with lust and passion, before he lavished you with his pleasure, and, dare you think it, he’d looked at you with something akin to love.

No, your Loki would never look at you like this.

“Disgusting, fallen Goddess. Who could ever care for you?” He spat as you cowed back, the metal bed frame digging into your back, cold and unyielding. “Fit for nothing. We rejoiced when you left Asgard, you brought shame on my family. How will your own ever find a match for you when you display such depraved and wanton behaviour?”

The false Loki sneered again, eyeing you as if you were nothing.

You wanted to reach for him and brush the anger from his brow with your lips, to sate whatever force was controlling him and bring him back as the bright eyed and mischievous God you knew. But this was not your Loki, your Loki never judged you for your escapades. He only teased, tangling your fingers together to help you clarify your memories, sharing in the joy of them and encouraging you in your whims.

“Nothing to say for yourself, snivelling child?” You rubbed your face with your palms and made to stand, rising on the broken mattress instead of the stone floor, hoping that the height would give you some sense of control.

“You aren’t real, you can’t hurt me.” The words came out as a sob and you hurled the single pillow at him, expecting it to bounce through the vision as you’d seen happen with Loki and Thor while they fought and trained. But it hit his chest and fell to the floor with a sad thump. The Loki’s eyes followed it and then snapped back to you, and his grin made your skin crawl, your blood curdle.

“Loki?!”

He approached.

Your back met the wall as you tried to escape from the solid vision, cornering you.

“You truly are an idiot. These powers of yours have corrupted your mind, your senses. You can’t be trusted with them.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this. Leave me alone!”

But the vision continued, berating you for your misdemeanours, recalling every stupid deed, every unkind word spoken, but this Loki knew so little. Like your own memories, the stories cut in and out from Asgard to London to the compound, there was so much missing in between. For a while you could use this knowledge to fight back, to ignore the most cutting remarks and stand your ground when your anger boiled hot enough.

But after a day, or two, your voice became hoarse, your mind reeling and pained, and your body weakened by lack of sustenance. And all the while, behind the cruel Loki, your guard sat, a wicked grin tightening his features.

After a week the lonely, stinging tears continued into the night, soaking your pillow as Loki’s voice haunted you, though the spectre of him had long since retired to whatever place it was these guards seem to spring from. Alone you clutched your pillow and thought of Loki, of the echo of home you’d built together in his rooms in the compound, the way his scent rose to meet you as he held you, cocooning you in the comforting richness of his presence. The way his arms held you back, solid and strong, his palms splayed on your back.

You clutched to those dreams as tightly, praying for him in the darkness.

During the day you sipped on stale water and nibbled on the dry bread left beside you, a far cry from the food that Loki had made for you. The bread made you heave and the stale water, though it kept you alive, only made the vision of Loki clearer to your eyes. So you stopped trying, allowing the dancing lights of your thirst to blur the image before you and the pounding of your headache to obfuscate his words.

In your dreams hands swarmed towards you, unforgiving and rough, the cruel whispers following you into the unconscious depths of your mind. And though you tried to tell yourself it was all a dream, your body ached when you woke, bruises littering your weakened body.

Every morning, when the twisted vision of Loki appeared, you returned to the Loki that you kept locked inside of your heart, falling back into your memories of him. Your Loki whispered praises to combat the poison poured into your ear, your Loki held you close when you were cold and scared. Your Loki - you drifted out of consciousness again, hungry and thirsty and tired.

Staring at the odd angles of the false Loki’s face. The pale imitation before you could never hold his face correctly, the subtle change to the rise and fall of his eyebrow, the twitch of a lip, you could read it all on your Loki. And nothing on this one.

Occasionally your energy peaked and, when the fight returned to you, you tried to irritate this fake and his handler as much as possible. You sang pop songs, told terrible jokes. Anything to keep the flame of your spirit flickering and alive. Deep inside you felt Loki’s magic calling back to yours, and it was on these days that you were the strongest, tethered to his sedir and allowing your own to reverberate down whatever bond had formed between you.

Your magic, bottled inside, continued to fizz, building on the already blinding headache that seemed to be permanent now.

And then it changed.

You kept picking away at the edges of the wards, kept pushing your magic forwards, trying to connect, trying to open the door. A little at a time you managed to let your magic creep through the gaps and you imagined it blowing into the wind like smoke, dispersed and invisible but still there, travelling into the distance, calling for help.

It started with a single flower, blooming rapidly as you watched it grow between the cracks of the wide rocks, it’s soft petals nudging the tip of your finger. You moved your hand away, and it followed, the spindly stem curling into the support of the mortar and then releasing it’s bud in a flourish of purple petals.

With a gasp you cupped your hand over it, turning your back to your eternal tormentor, and kissed the tiny flower, squeezing your eyes closed to stop from crying out with joy. There was something there, some magic, some feeling, that was still strong.

When your food tray was dumped on the floor you quickly took your glass, dipping a single finger into the water and collecting a droplet on the end of your nail. The water surrounded the flower as it fell, drenching the minute leaves, and then it bristled, as if shivering from the cold, and dipped its head back towards you.

You went to bed that night with a smile, but between dusk and midnight, the nightmares returned. Loki was always in official Asgardian leather, metal, gold. Sometimes he had a staff that he beat against the ground to wake you up and then keep you awake. So you clung to your reality of casual butter soft cotton shirts, dark jeans, the slippers he kept in his apartment and swore you to secrecy over, the brush of his fingers in yours, the way he held you, the way he touched your shoulder when he handed you a coffee over breakfast.

So when he came, you kept the vision of him in Midgardian clothes at the front of your mind, reminiscing on your time together at the compound and ignoring everything else.

Hands over your face you dredged up another memory. Showing him a tulip you’d grown in a pot overnight.

He had been impressed, you could tell just by the twitch of his mouth. It wasn’t a change in shape or a brief illusion, it was creation, organic creation. He was speechless as you slid the plant pot across the table to him.

“A gift, my Prince,” you had smiled.

Thor laughed, declaring it to be girl magic and you had looked at him, incredulous.

“I am a girl. What do you do, oaf magic?”

Loki had turned away to hide his laugh but had congratulated you as soon as Thor stomped off, huffy and indignant.

The more you focused on a clear vision of him the more Loki could feel the vibrations of your magic.

Somehow they’d picked up your trail, leading out of Norway, to Sweden and then into Denmark. Or, more accurately, Stark had been able to track your kidnappers.

The first set had, as Val worried, been the elderly men that lived in Tønsberg. Eventually they’d been able to trace some tourists who heard them planning the kidnap in the pub on the afternoon that you’d arrived, and a CCTV camera had caught them carrying your limp body down a side street before vanishing from the videos.

They’d been gone for a few days before there was another hit, the pair returning, beaten, bruised and worse for wear. And empty handed.

Valkyrie had them arrested as soon as they crossed the village square, but between their incoherent ramblings the only information the Asgardian’s had been able to glean was that they had been on a journey to the coast.

“It’s not enough,” Loki had raged, the cape of his formal leathers billowing out behind him as he turned to pace back down the length of the Long Hall.

Valkyrie sat in her throne, her head propped on one hand and shrugged, “we’re doing what we can, Loki, but they’re old, ancient, wittering on about Odin and some prophecy or other, what do you want me to do with them?”

“Let me look into their minds.” Loki kept to a stop, his hands on his hips, every bit the god and Prince he was brought up to be. Valkyrie’s council had left the room as soon as he’d strode in and now, alone, the hall was full of tension and unused, bubbling, power.

“There’s nothing in there, they barely remember each other, we look at the coastline.”

Loki glared and where anyone else might have withered under than look, Valkyrie sat taller in her chair. “I mean it, Loki, there’s nothing more to be had from those men. We look to the coast, that’s my final word.”

“Fine.”

Loki strode out, his long legs eating up the length of the hall in a few strides, and then he slammed the door behind him.

Refusing to speak to the Avengers directly, Thor passed information between the village and the compound. Stark had managed to track a trail of unusual energy into Sweden as well, but he failed to share the details with Loki.

Every day Loki felt a deeper pain in his chest, a gnawing feeling that he had seldom felt before. When he described it, Thor confirmed his worries. Hunger, you were hungry, and he was feeling it too. Having spent his whole life in the luxury of the palace, it was a sensation he was accustomed to and it pained him further to think of you that way.

In the night he woke to dreadful dreams, nightmares of his own doing, your screams ringing in his ears soothed only by a whisper of your voice, clinging to him and chanting his name like a prayer. His chest hurt then, too, and tears slid down his cheeks, wetting his hair as he hid his sobs in his pillow.

Capitulating to Stark’s demands was an equally bitter pill that left him feeling hollowed out and cold despite the warm breezes that brushed along the coast. He would work one, single, solitary, mission and only after they had found you and returned you safe and well.

By the time Stark denied to share his information with Loki the God was enraged, pacing like a tiger and snapping at anyone who looked at him wrong. The entire village scattered from him as he approached, Valkyrie’s council scurrying away when he slammed open the rooms of the Long Hall the day the Avengers arrived in Tønsberg.

“Tell me where she is, Stark.” Loki barked, his fighting leathers manifesting as he walked until he was clad from head to toe in leather and metalwork.

“And then you leave? We go together.” Tony didn’t even bother to look up at Loki as he spoke, continuing to press endless effusive buttons on the little device he liked to carry with him.

“I could leave as soon as we find her, what does it matter to you?”

“True. Best not to give you too many chances though.” Tony smirked.

“Stark, desist teasing Loki.” Thor cut in, gripping his brother’s shoulder, “this situation has upset us all, we should focus on the task at hand.” Silhouette by one of the floor length windows that lined the Long Hall Thor looked as if he belonged, strong and surprisingly measured while Loki simmered.

“I’m not teasing, I’m being practical. We all go together.” Tony sighed, placing his device on the table between them. “You can either come quietly and behave, or we take her anyway and don’t tell you.” He shrugged.

“You know that I would do anything, anything, to get her back to me safely.” Loki implored, “have I not agreed to work with you and your team? What more do you require of me?”

Tony stared at the God, both towering in his physicality, yet somehow diminished. He had seen Loki commit atrocious crimes, had seen the reasons why and fought them himself, and had grudgingly accepted a quiet truce. But he had never seen Loki so earnest or cowed, despite the green leather and daggers, he was accepting defeat in the only way he knew how.

“Nothing, Loki, nothing. Let’s get your girl back.” Tony fiddled with the device again, above them there was a roar of engines and through the windows Loki watched as the boats in the harbour wagged dangerously from side to side in the cross waves.

Thor pushed the doors open and allowed Loki to walk through first, revealing the Quinjet hovering above the low lying buildings. “Ready?” Stark asked, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

Loki brushed past Tony, shouldering him out of the way, “don’t be absurd, of course I’m ready. And don’t call her ‘girl’.” He turned, his cape swirling behind him, picked up the wind, his hair was briefly wild, and the a golden helmet with two towering horns appeared, brushing each earnt curl backwards until Loki’s face was picked out and protected by the precious metal, “she’s a Goddess.”

<< Chapter 8

Chapter 10 >>

#Loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki/reader #Loki x Reader #Loki fanfic #Loki series #loki marvel #Loki x you #Loki/You #loki fanfiction #Loki smut #The Old Gods and the New #Loki fluff #loki x female reader #loki angst

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worldoftheromanovs · 1 year ago

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Alexandra Feodorovna’s Wedding Dress

“Her wedding dress was a magnificent creation; the outfit was so intricate that it took nearly an hour for Alexandra to dress. Her stockings were of lace, her shoes embroidered and decorated. Over these she wore layers of stiff petticoats. The wide, full skirt of silver brocade opened from the waist down to reveal a second underskirt of silver tissue, edged with fur. The décolletage was cut low, to reveal the neck and shoulders, and the gown had short sleeves trailing ermine-edged tippets. The tightly fitted, boned bodice was sewn with diamonds which sparkled with every move. The folds of the overskirt fell back to form a train, and a separate, sweeping court train of cloth-of-gold edged with ermine fell from her shoulders. Over this, Alexandra wore the imperial mantle of cloth-of-gold, lined and edged with ermine. These robes were so heavy that four pages had to help carry them.

Alexandra wore her hair swept back to emphasise her graceful neck and shoulders. Two long, twin side curls were attached to her own hair. Her long veil of tulle was held in place by a Russian Kokoshnik tiara, of diamonds set in platinum, and the Romanov nuptial crown of diamonds sewn on crimson velvet. Alexandra also wore a number of diamond brooches on the front of her gown, along with the jewelled chain of the Order of St. Andrew and strings of pearls around her neck. These jewels, as well as the tiara, had been wedding gifts from the late tsar, costing some 300,000 rubles ($150,000). She also wore the imperial riviére, a diamond necklace of 475 carats, and a pair of matching earrings. The earrings were so heavy, in fact, that they had to be supported by wires around the ears, which slowly cut into the flesh as the day wore on. Around her tiara, Alexandra wore a wreath of orange blossoms, brought from the Imperial Conservatory in Warsaw. Across the dress stretched the red ribbon of the Order of St. Catherine.”

[Greg King, The Last Empress: The Life and Times of Alexandra Feodorovna, Tsarina of Russia]

#alexandra feodorovna #alix of hesse #tsarina #imperial russia #1894

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the-last-tsar · 11 months ago

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"Her wedding dress was a magnificent creation; the outfit was so intricate that it took nearly an hour for Alexandra to dress. Her stockings were of lace, her shoes embroidered and decorated. Over these she wore layers of stiff petticoats. The wide, full skirt of silver brocade opened from the waist down to reveal a second underskirt of silver tissue, edged with fur. The décolletage was cut low, to reveal the neck and shoulders, and the gown had short sleeves trailing ermine-edged tippets. The tightly fitted, boned bodice was sewn with diamonds which sparkled with every move. The folds of the overskirt fell back to form a train, and a separate, sweeping court train of cloth-of-gold edged with ermine fell from her shoulders. Over this, Alexandra wore the imperial mantle of cloth-of-gold, lined and edged with ermine. These robes were so heavy that four pages had to help carry them. Alexandra wore her hair swept back to emphasise her graceful neck and shoulders. Two long, twin side curls were attached to her own hair. Her long veil of tulle was held in place by a Russian Kokoshnik tiara, of diamonds set in platinum, and the Romanov nuptial crown of diamonds sewn on crimson velvet. Alexandra also wore a number of diamond brooches on the front of her gown, along with the jewelled chain of the Order of St. Andrew and strings of pearls around her neck. These jewels, as well as the tiara, had been wedding gifts from the late tsar, costing some 300,000 rubles ($150,000). She also wore the imperial riviére, a diamond necklace of 475 carats, and a pair of matching earrings. The earrings were so heavy, in fact, that they had to be supported by wires around the ears, which slowly cut into the flesh as the day wore on. Around her tiara, Alexandra wore a wreath of orange blossoms, brought from the Imperial Conservatory in Warsaw. Across the dress stretched the red ribbon of the Order of St. Catherine.”

The Last Empress: The Life and Times of Alexandra Feodorovna, Tsarina of Russia | Greg King

#facts #royal wedding #tsarina alexandra #alix of hesse #the last czars #my own #tsarina #romanovs #the romanovs

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honeysuckletoast · 2 months ago

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Here's a brief description of everyone in the academy loop with Alma peregrine when she was a teen. This is how I imagine they look in my Academy fic.

Esmerelda Avocet

Bird: pied Avocet

Age: late 40’s

Nicknames: Esme (most of the Ymbrynes who are older than her and Miss Bunting.)

Nationality: English, French

Eye color: smooth vanilla toffee brown with gold flecks.

Hair color: silvering black (earning her gray hair from jack)

Hair type: wavy

Hair length: mid back

Build: bigger boned but lean. Agile

Body shape: hourglass figure.

Weight: 138.5 pounds.

Height: 5’7

Skin color: ivory

Distinguishing marks: none

Glasses: yes. gold framed ones that have been fixed in the center twice.

Scars: has a bad shoulder scar that not even Miss Bunting knows where she got it. She won't tell anyone.

Common colors worn: black, gray, white, dusty rose occasionally.

Daily outfit: shift, a stay (prefers this to a corset) petticoat underlayer, a black simple skirt with a white lacy collared slightly puffed long sleeve shirt. Or a dusty pink wrap dress on Sundays. Black boots with grey stockings, and a black cloak when she leaves the loop. Prefers simple clothing. Has a ring on a chain and wears it as a necklace under her clothing. No one knows where she got it or what it's for, not even miss bunting.

Amelia Bunting

Bird: painted bunting

Age: mid 40’s

Nicknames: Lia (miss Avocet)

Nationality: African American

Eye color: spring leaf green

Hair color: shiny black

Hair type: kinky curls

Hair length: when braided would be about mid back.

Build: feisty string bean.

Body shape: rectangle.

Weight: 112.4 pounds

Height: 5’3

Skin color: warm brown

Distinguishing marks: none

Glasses: none

Scars: has an odd twisted scar on her ankle from walking into a tripwire/ fishing line as a teenager. Few scars from fights with townspeople.

Common colors worn: green, brown, white, mostly brighter colors.

Daily outfit: shift, a stay, petticoat underlayer, light green and white blouse, a long light green skirt that has flowers of all different sizes embroidered on it. When teaching embroidery and sewing she has each girl embroider a flower onto her skirt as a test, and so her skirt is covered in them from each girl who came and gone through training. Brown boots but prefers going barefoot. Yellow stockings. Her hair in a bun with a green flower pin

Other:

Roisin Gannet

Bird: Northern Gannet

Age: 17 years old.

Nationality: Irish

Eye color: Pale cornflower blue

Hair color: red

Hair type: very kinky curly

Hair length: to her butt.

Build: strong build. Very muscular

Body shape: hourglass figure

Weight: 210 pounds

Height: 6’4

Skin color: very pale white.

Distinguishing marks: Freckles, all over her body. Stretch marks.

Glasses: occasionally has used them after long sessions diving (gannets dive head first at ridiculous speeds, trauma to your eyes is snazzy)

Scars: has quite a few scars from her brawls, most under her clothing

Common colors worn: green, blue, browns, greys and creams

Daily outfit: cream colored blue with either a dark green or pale blue skirt. Corset and shift, Stockings Black lace up boots and a clover brass pin for her hair to be pulled back.

Other: has a baby face, despises it. On the heavier side.

Enid Finch

Bird: American Goldfinch

Age: 17

Nicknames: honeybun (her aunt)

Nationality: American, English

Eye color: moonlight blue

Hair color: light honey blonde.

Hair type: slightly wavy

Hair length: mid back

Build: proportionate build, shaped like a agile dancer.

Body shape: triangle

Weight: 140 pounds

Height: 5’7

Skin color: porcelain white skin.

Distinguishing marks: stretch marks on only her right thigh, that's it.

Glasses: none.

Scars: has scars from falling out of trees as a child.

Common colors worn: dark red, dark blue, dark green tan dark burgundy

Daily outfit: shift, corset and petticoat layer white long sleeve shirt with red rose accents on the cuffed sleeves. (Her aunt taught her how to embroider the roses. Dark red skirt with black boots with a slightly larger heel than usual for stability. A necklace with a rose on it (family last name is Rosee) from her aunt that also has her father and mothers wedding rings on them. Also had a metal hairpin to put her up into an upsweep

Other: her aunt is very picky about buttons and looking clean, Enid carries the same ideas. Her aunt wouldn't let her makeup, but occasionally wore red lipstick, but stopped once Jack started rumors she was hooking up with random men in town.

Myron Bentham

Age:16.5

Nicknames: none

Nationality: English

Eye color: sandy brown

Hair color: toffee brown.

Hair type: slightly curly.

Hair length: Short and styled properly.

Build: average looking teenager not really muscular that you can see but is a bit strong.

Body shape: rectangular.

Weight: 165 pounds

Height: 5’10

Skin color: also milky white.

Distinguishing marks: none

Glasses: has a pair of readers he only wears occasionally

Scars: a few from Jack that he doesn't care about, later down the line, one from Cathrine Glassbill he can't stand to look at. He keeps it wrapped up no matter what so he isn't reminded of her.

Common colors worn: black, grey, white, burgundy

Daily outfit: dressy outfit, a white button up collared shirt always steamed and pressed out nicely. Black pants and a necktie occasionally. Sometimes wears a gray overcoat, mostly outside the loop. Black leather boots and a brown satchel that he carries a lot of books in, mainly the ones he's reading and then one or two of Catherine's so they can read together in the afternoons.

Other:

Cathrine Glassbill

Bird: Barn swallow

Age: 16

Nicknames: Cathy (everyone) Cat (Myron)

Nationality: Austrian Hungarian

Eye color: dark oak brown

Hair color: dark dark brown, nearly black.

Hair type: straight

Hair length: surprisingly long. Down to her lower back if not braided

Build: muscular, mannish

Body shape: pear shape

Weight: 145 pounds.

Height: 5’9

Skin color: warm ivory

Distinguishing marks: none

Glasses: none

Scars: hand scars from burning herself while cooking.

Common colors worn: dark red, brown, occasionally pink, dark green dark blue.

Daily outfit: shift, sometimes a corset but prefers a stay to a corset. Light tan wrap dress with brown leaves. Typically has her dark red shawl on her and a brown apron. Dark brown horse riding boots. A necklace Myron gave her as a Christmas gift that has a cat pennant he made himself (and was very proud of) hair always braided in one or two braids.

Other: mannish looking and flat faced. Always has her hair in braids, one day she decided to wear it down and everyone thought she was sick or hurt and couldn't do her hair sense she had never left it down ever. She never really unbraided it again in fear of causing chaos.

Jack has taunted her about being so stoic and mannish, but she just kinda stares, nods, and goes back to whatever she's doing. Miss Avocet is still trying to get her to teach Roisin this strategy.

Eleanor- Grace Nightjar

Bird great eared Nightjar (yes, the little dragon looking Nightjar)

Age: 15

Nicknames: grace (she prefers her middle name grace over her first name Eleanor.) Leni (Millie, short for her first name, because when learned grace wasn't her first name she was fascinated.

Nationality: Scottish, English, French.

Eye color: pale gray, look blue when you first look at them though. Don't worry, while she's talking to you she will stare into your soul through your eyes unnervingly and you can see the gray hue.

Hair color: dark silvery black

Hair type: wavy.

Hair length: to her butt.

Build: slightly stronger, but thin build

Body shape: hourglass, leaning more towards pear.

Weight: 102 pounds.

Height: 5’6

Skin color: unnaturally pale. Like a sickly pale color

Distinguishing marks: very few freckles.

Glasses: needs them, won't wear them.

Scars: has multiple scars from picking, has a really bad habit of picking her scabs when she gets nervous.

Common colors worn: dark grey, black, dusty dark purple, burgundy occasionally.

Daily outfit: shift, corset, her petticoat underlayer, dusty violet wrap dress. Black lace up boots and her security cloak that's dark gray. A flower hairpin Millie gave her, and a silver necklace from her late brother. Wears her hair in a tight bun with two pieces framing her face.

Other: she sees better in the darkness. At night she's agile and graceful, in the daylight she's clumsy. Miss Avocet is still trying to find suitable sunglasses for her.

Jack/Caul

Bird: Peregrine Falcon

Age:15

Nicknames: would probably smack you upside the head for giving him one. Prick- (Roisin Gannet)

Nationality: english

Eye color: coffee brown

Hair color: shiny black

Hair type: wavy, fluffy

Hair length: kept nearly trimmed and styled.

Build: pretty lanky, average guy

Body shape: rectangle.

Weight: 96 pounds (female pergeines are normally always bigger than male peregrines. This irritates jack to no end as he fears she will be taller than him.)

Height: 5’5

Skin color: milky white

Distinguishing marks: slightly crooked nose.

Glasses: yes, they are gold framed and as he describes them “more elegant than you will all ever be”

Scars: has multiple scars from him and Roe fighting, and a few from fighting with hawks. Buddy gets a sick kick out for starting fights with nesting hawks and falcons outside the loop.

Common colors worn: browns, white, occasionally red.

Daily outfit: brown trousers with a tan button up shirt. Brown boots and cotton (have to be cotton) socks. Occasionally a waistcoat that matches his trousers. His hair is styled into a backwards sweep, but never stays down and becomes wavy/fluffier by the end of the day. Usually wears his glasses. He also would never admit it, but kept and still wears a tiny brass pocket watch Alma brought him when she was really young. She stole it from her father when they were thrown out, and even if he depsies her, he keeps it as a reminder of what he deemed “the long gone days when life was still alright.”

Other:

Millicent Thrush

Bird: Song thrush

Age: 14

Nicknames: Millie (everyone) Soleil (Grace)

Nationality: Dutch, french. Bit of English mixed in

Eye color: mocha brown

Hair color: sunflower blonde

Hair type: loose waves/curls

Hair length: mid back.

Build: slim, mousy

Body shape: rectangle

Weight: 117.5 pounds

Height: 5’4 and half, that's very important to her that you don't forget the half.

Skin color: ivory colored skin

Distinguishing marks: n/a Literally perfect skin, never gets acne and no scars.

Glasses: n/a

Scars: small burn scar on her forearm from bumping into the wood burning stove.

Common colors worn: light pastel pink, yellows, sky blues

Daily outfit: shift, corset, petticoat underlayer, light light yellow floral dotted skirt and a white blouse. Brown short boots and thin stockings. Doesn't like jewelry, but wears a really simple necklace Grace got her. Her hair is normally tied into a loose low ponytail.

Other: her teeth are slightly crooked but she doesn't care. Her smile is still contagious. Grace calls her Soleil occasionally since it means sunshine in French and Millie is french.

Alice Treecreeper

Bird Eurasian Treecreeper

Age: 13

Nicknames: won't respond to them

Nationality: English

Eye color: amber brown

Hair color: carmel brown

Hair type: straight

Hair length: just past her shoulder blades.

Build: thin like a string bean

Body shape: triangular.

Weight: 97 pounds.

Height: 5’2

Skin color: light sandy color, very slight tan.

Distinguishing marks: small bridge of freckles on her nose. Occasional acne that irritates her.

Glasses: yes. Can't see in the distance without them. They are golden framed.

Scars: only a few acne scars on her face. and a birthmark on her hip bone, just a dark brown patch

Common colors worn: light brown and cream. Dark orange/ rust.

Daily outfit: shift corset, (no petticoat to fluff her skirt up) long rust colored wrap dress with brown accents. Always has her bag with her journal and the book she's studying (typically medical knowledge and enjoys romance novels but wouldn't ever tell anyone that) brown loafers and thigh high brown stockings. Typically always has her brown cloak while leaving the loop. Wears her hair simply down or in a low bun.

Other: very introverted, but can and does enjoy her sisters. Better listener. Wants to be a doctor.

Isabelle cuckoo

Bird Common cuckoo

Age: 12.5

Nicknames: belle (everyone) isa (Alma) Izzy (Alma rarely)

Nationality: french

Eye color: warm brown

Hair color: dark brown (she dyed it silver later)

Hair type: she burns it straight, she loves the look of it straight

Hair length: nearly trimmed at her shoulders.

Build: lanky

Body shape: triangle.

Weight: 116.5 pounds.

Height: 5’6

Skin color: cool brown

Distinguishing marks: has a birthmark on her ankle, looks like a lopsided heart

Glasses: none but in the future she will be rocking sunglasses.

Scars: none. Her mother chastised her early on for picking and making scars so she consciously avoids it now.

Common colors worn: she wears every color of the rainbow, but mainly she loves blues and purples, indigo being her favorite shade. Reds, greens, anything but brown. She doesn't like the lack of life in brown.

Daily outfit: shift, corset, an extra fluffy petticoat, dark red skirt with a silky creamy tan colored top that has red accents. Brown lace up boots with a sizeable heel and her hair either braided or pulled into a bun. She occasionally wears it down. Red stockings and a silver feather pendant necklace Alma gave her for her birthday.

Other:

Alma Lefay peregrine

Bird: Peregrine Falcon.

Age: 12

Nicknames: Al (everyone)

Nationality: English

Eye color: forest dark green

Hair color: raven black

Hair type: wavy

Hair length: butt length

Build: petite tiny little thing

Body shape: hourglass

Weight: 105 pounds

Height: 5’1

Skin color: pale porcelain

Distinguishing marks: freckles on her nose in the summertime, they fade during winter.

Glasses: yes, silver framed ones Miss Avocet gave her. They used to be Miss Avocet when she was a child. Alma kept them in perfect shape until jack caught wind of where they came from and how important they were to Alma, and smashed them with a book in front of her. Miss Avocet got them repaired by a peculiar craftsman and was able to put new (better) lenses in them and gave them to Alma as a birthday gift. She cherishes them.

Scars: multiple scars from Jack and Myron's torment and scars from a fight she got into with another falcon when she got too close to her nest one day.

Common colors worn: blue (dark and light) red in the wintertime, blacks and creams

Daily outfit: shift, a looser fitting corset (doesn't like the constriction) petticoat underlayer, dark blue day skirt with a white or cream colored long sleeve shirt with a ruffle collar. Her silver glasses and her hair braided into a bun with two pieces framing her face. A feather hairpin that Isabelle made with one of Alma's molted feathers for her. Long dark blue stockings and black boots with no heel.

#miss peregrines home for peculiar children #ymbryne #ymbrynes #mphfpc #alma peregrine

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beedreamscape · 5 months ago

Text

If he allows his mind to wander, Zerxus can still hear it, first the call - Papa!? - and then the scream.

The memory alone is enough to make his veins go cold.

And he remembers every detail.

The way Evandrin laughed, weakly, for the last time, as Zerxus read him the newspaper since his own eyes couldn't see right anymore — he could tell which articles had been written by Loquatius and it made him laugh. He was reciting a story about a unicorn mare illegally brought into the city that went loose in the Silver Hall when they heard the keys turning on the front door.

Nydas made Elias look so small and pale as he guided the boy into the room. He remembers the navy blue sweater, oversized so the sleeves had to be rolled up, and how Nydas's locks fell over the shoulders of his red petticoat with details of gold.

Caring for Evandrin took almost all of Zerxus' time, and while Van would've settled for a paid caretaker for himself, he wouldn't accept a stranger caring for his son, so of all of their friends, Nydas had been the best candidate and glad to take on the responsibility.

Elias walked straight to Evandrin who pulled him closer with trembling hands.

"Hi, my love." His voice was low and whistly, gasping, still very sweet. "Hello, friend. Thank you."

"Save your breath, old friend. It's no trouble at all, I showed him some moves yesterday. With us three as company, he'll become a swordsman in no time."

Zerxus could see Nydas' wish to come closer but also the hesitation, and so did Evandrin. He offers his free hand, gaunt and shaking which Nydas holds gently — cold on warm.

Evandrin smiles. "He'd like that."

Zerxus leaves the newspaper folded on the bed, and places a kiss atop Elias' head.

"I've bought some bread rolls," Nydas tells him.

"Good. I'll prepare us some coffee and tea."

"Milk with honey for El," Evandrin requests.

"Of course, dear."

Evandrin no longer enjoyed coffee, and both agreed he needn't the caffeine, it had grown bitter and dull on his tongue ever since the incident. The sweetest calming teas they could find became his preference. That morning the reliable chamomile, three teaspoons of sugar so he could actually taste the sweetness.

Zerxus still remembers the mix of scents — chamomile, ground coffee, warm milk, honey, Nydas' cologne, the scent of blossoms that lingered on him from sleeping beside Evandrin. All was quiet except for the blub blub of the water boiling, the deep tone of Nydas' voice muttering.

Nydas had been there beside him in the kitchen relating how had Elias' night been, the nightmare, the calming down, the kettle was shaking with the water and he had just poured the steaming hot milk into El's favourite mug - mimicking wood bark with a tiny ceramic bird perched on the handle - when the scream tore through the house.

First "Papa!?", twice.

Both of them had turned at the sound. Papi was for Zerxus, Papa for Evandrin, he knew he wasn't being called.

Then raw screaming, like bloody murder.

And Zerxus ran.

Elias' face was contorted in crying, the bed quilt in his hand. There was no one on the bed.

Zerxus still doesn't know how he remained up on his feet, but remembers how the blood had left his head, the ringing in his ears mixed with his son's sobbing.

He never imagined one day he'd learn the sound of heartbreak.

He can't say he didn't predict its approach, though he had been feeling like that for a while, except he imagined it'd happen in the night, just the two of them, that he would call his name during sleep and with tears in his eyes fade into stardust and ether.

He didn't think he wouldn't get to watch, wouldn't get to say goodbye.

Like a sick dog, what he did was wait for Zerxus to look away so he could die in solitude. And yet, it wasn't solitude. Perhaps Evandrin simply didn't want Zerxus to watch and he would never know why.

The same hazel eyes look up at him pouring tears. "What did I do, Pa? Where did he go?"

Sobbing, hiccuping, sobbing. He kneels down and pulls Elias into his arms to muffle the noise.

Elias doesn't let the kilt go. "I'm sorry."

Zerxus puts his nose on his son's hair, trying to escape the intense scent of blossoms. "It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong, baby."

He wants to say 'There's nothing you could've done' but he doesn't want to make the statement true — there's something to be done and he'll do it, whatever it takes.

Yet he stares at the bed, waiting, any moment now he'll blink back into being.

It remains empty.

"Did he say anything, El?" Nydas asks softly, Zerxus had forgotten he was there and is eternally grateful for his presence to break through the endless nightmare atmosphere.

He hiccups and shakes. "That- That he loved me. And to me b-be strong."

Zerxus wants to cry but his body is frozen in shock, even the tears stay fixed at the back of his eyes.

Nydas is the only one brave enough to move — he circles the bed in case Evandrin has fallen over the other side unnoticed, then finding the place truly devoid of his presence, touches the spot where he had been lying, barely any warmth.

His shoulders slack. "Is that it?"

A few months after the fact, Zerxus starts finding Nydas' question quite humorous, unintentionally so. That really was the thing about death, the end comes and that's it.

The rest are the ripples of it, having to sit with excruciating heart-gnawing pain and still finish your coffee and your milk with honey.

He prepares the tea just in case. Three lumps of sugar.

(Patia and Loquatius are dealing with everything as he does. The funeral, the will, the announcement, the resurr— so he can sit and wallow in the hurt. Grief, like a verb and not a state of being.)

He wouldn't have stopped at death.

And he didn't. But he failed. And he failed. And he failed.

But for some reason he did.

He sits with the memories memories memories memories that make his veins go cold.

And it's all he's got.

#exu calamity #exandria unllimited calamity #zerxus ilerez #evandrin alterra #nydas okiro #critical role #flash fic #cw major character death #cw grief #i was listening to a song and ended up thinking about elias #~1k words

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bebemoon · 1 year ago

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look for the name: TAMZIN

selkie "the carol" theater dress w/ layers of cotton petticoat, drawstring bustling, and lace trim

daisyandstella (on etsy) bridal veil headpiece w/ green foliage, flower buds and bronze metallic tendrils, c. 192o's

theodosias_inferno (on ig) "a personal pair of heels made with victorian tapestry and 19th century silk fringe"

loveshackfancy "forever in love" eau de parfum

stonehart jewelry "eucalyptus" barbell earring in gold-plate silver

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ribbonsaikeaux · 4 months ago

Text

Mirrored Faces

"Tell me, dear, have you ever thought about escaping this place?" The masked woman asked as she sat across from Emily and crossed her legs. She looked on expectantly, eagerly awaiting an answer, taking a moment to adjust her petticoats. Though her extravegant lilac dress with its shimmering silver forest embroidery was certainly eye catching, it was the mirrored mask that she wore that garnered the most attention.

It was there that Emilys' eyes were fixed. Seeing herself reflected across the womans' lips and nose was somewhat unsettling when trying to speak with her, but Emily felt compelled to answer.

"Of course I have. Theres nothing here for me anymore. I've outgrown this town and I'm starting to HATE the people in it." She froze a moment. She wasn't sure why she was so forthright with that information. After all, she'd literally just met this lady.

"I had a feeling you'd say that dear." The woman replied, a hint of a smile in her voice.

"You had that desperate air about you. It was... intriguing."

Emily looks taken aback at that comment, but laughs and smiles.

"Is it that obvious?" She asked, frowning.

The masked woman let out a soft chuckle.

"Only to those who know what theyre looking for dear." She says as she reaches across the table, gently brushing Emilys cheek. "And i must confess, this beautiful face of yours also caught my attention."

Emily froze, blushing despite herself. However, what trepidation she felt at this sudden advance quickly disappeared. For some reason this strange womans touch was incredibly calming

"Th-thank you..." she managed to stammer out.

"Oh, dear, thanks arent necessary. It is simply the truth. I mean, such lovely bone structure. Soft lips " The woman puntuates this by brushing Emilys lips "and such cute cheeks as well!" She exclaims, gently booping the young womans nose.

Emilys face rapidly went through several shades of red at the womans assesment, nodding in agreement, far too embaressed to speak at the moment.

The woman continued, folding black lace gloved hands on the table in front of her. "Oh my, I seem to have gotten a little carried away dear. Apologies." She chuckled. "Now, what if I were to tell you that I can get you away from here and you'd never have to worry about anything again?" She asks in a tone more serious than any she'd used thus far.

"I would be very excited, but also extremely skeptical." Emily responded, still confused as to why she was being so forthcoming with this strange woman.

The woman nodded, looking solemn, but Emily felt there may be a grin behind that mask. "Well, thats to be expected, dear. However, I promise you I can make it happen."

Emily raised an eyebrow, nodding slowly. "Yeah... and what would you want in return?"

The woman leanes in, once again playfully booping Emilys nose. "Oh come now. We can worry about payment later dear. This is your chance to stop living this pointless life and do something different. More fulfilling. Now I really must be going soon, I'm afraid I need an answer dear"

Emily contemplated the offer, eyes becoming distant as she thought. Hell, whatve I got to lose, her thoughts concluded.

"Alright. Im in. What do I need to do?"

The woman clapped excitedly. "Splendid! You let me worry about the details dear. First, though," she leans over the table "I want you to look into my eyes"

Emily rolled her eyes, a little annoyed, but decided to humor this woman. After all, shes her ticket out of here. So she also leaned forward, finding the womans eyes.

To her surprise the womans eyes were astounding! Purple with a grey starbust pattern and, strangely, a glowing gold spot in the center of her pupil.

"Theres a good dear. Just keep looking." The woman encouraged.

Emily nodded slowly, eyes never leaving those purple and grey orbs. Not even noticing that her own face had lined up perfectly with the mask. She blinked.

Staring back at her was her own face. Not a reflection. Her. Face. She frantically brought her hands up to her own head, only to be met with a feeling of a smooth and cold surface.

Emilys face grinned wickedly. "Why thank you dear! When I saw your face, I just KNEW I had to have it. Dont worry, I will still keep my end of the bargain. We will be leaving shortly, and you will never have to worry that pretty little head over anything ever again!" The woman laughs.

Emily tried to scream, but her voice caught in her throat, no sound escaping. Then she felt an icy chill move across her head. Reaching up she once again tries to scream, but to no avail. The mirrored glass was spreading across her head, encasing it. She looked around, panicing, only to find everyone else in the builing frozen in place. Unbeknownst to her, everyone had been like this since the woman sat down.

Slapping at her face and head, emily tried in vain to stop the spread, the cold having now fully encased her head. Her brain and throat began to burn with searing pain. Clutching her head, she thrashes as the chill travelled down her neck, a series of cracks could be heard as her skull and neck bones reset, becoming steel. For the first time she found she could make a sound, but to her horror, her ears were met them robotic glitchy static.

The new Emily sat there, grinning. Obviously enjoying the show, her eyes fixed intently on the changing form in front of her.

As the cold sensation spread to her shoulders, her skin took on a metalic sheen. More cracking and fragmented robotic screaming. Bones replaced with a steel skeleton. Veins replaced with wires. All sending agonizing, seemingly, unending pain through the former Emilys being. The scratchy electronic screaming never ceasing until the freezing spread to the bottoms of her feet.

Suddenly Emilys brain was on fire. The screaming continued as she pounded on her head. The pain to much to bear, but unable to pass out as her brain was morphed into complex circuitry. Memories fading. Thoughts diminishing. Self gone.

The new drone sat up straight, arms at its sides, staring blankly ahead.

The new Emily giggled and clapped excitedly. "Oh goodie! We simply must get you home and programmed!" She exclaimed as she stood. "Come now. We've a lot of work to do!"

The drone stood stiffly, arms still at its sides and followed its owner wordlessly. Outside on the street sat a limo. The driver opened the door for Lady Emily. It shared the same mirrored face as the newly made drone. Said drone was unaware of this as it silently climbed into the vehicle with its new owner.

Shortly, they were both on their way to their new lives.

#empty spaces #dollposting #writing #mask #drone #mirror #identity death

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apilgrimpassingby · 5 months ago

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Coronation Dress

So, you may know that for a while now I've been designing the Kingdom of Anchorage and Kodiak, a kingdom in southwest Alaska run by a Native American Orthodox dynasty in a post-apocalyptic world. As part of that, I'm sharing the coronation dress* of its founder figure, Queen Abigail, and looking for opinions from my female followers and other women and girls here.

The base layer is a chemise, and above that are tie-on pockets, a corset (not tightlaced) and the frame for a hoop skirt, covered with a petticoat and a sleeveless smock. All of these cloth layers are made of white silk. For footwear, there are a pair of cream buckskin moccasins covered with blue and turquoise beadwork and with white fur around the tops.

The skirt is layered; the bottom layer is light blue and fringed with beadwork in the shapes of forget-me-nots and northern bluebells, the middle layer is medium blue and fringed with beadwork in the same patterns, while the top layer is dark blue and fringed with beadwork in the shapes of ravens and orcas (respectively very important to the Koyukon people Abigail comes from and the national symbol of Alaska), and alternating raven, snow goose and golden eagle feathers projecting out from the waist, which also has a cloth-of-gold sash tied around it. This layer is also made of silk

The bodice (made of dark blue silk) is decorated with beadwork patterns in the shape of a raven on the right and an orca on the left. It is fastened with buttons at the front, with buttons made of mammoth ivory and carved in the shape of various animals; descending from the top, a raven with spread wings, a leaping orca, a reindeer seen from the side, a standing bear, a moose seen from the side, a leaping salmon and an eagle with spread wings. The shoulders are large and puffed and use sleeve supports, and the arms are wholly covered between them and a pair of bicep-length white gloves made of the leather of young Dall sheep, fastened with mammoth ivory buttons.

The hair is tied back into a bun with a hairnet, and covered with a veil of dark blue silk fringed with gold, worn in the style of a mantilla. A string of pearls are wrapped tightly around the neck, and there is a shell necklace spread over the chest of the same make as this one.

There is also a long dark blue cloak which drapes along the ground, with the monarch's seal sewn into it with gold thread, fastened with silver clasps in the shape of ravens.

Instead of a crown, there is a diadem made of navy fabric, fringed with gold thread; in the centre is the national coat of arms, with the monarch’s seal (both described below) on either side. The diadem is fastened at the back with gold clasps in the shape of bears, with dark blue silken tappets embroidered with the names of family saints in gold thread. From the back and side are strings of circular beads made out of amethyst (directly against the back of the neck), fluorite (on either side of the amethyst beads) and obsidian (against the side of the head).

The coat of arms contains an orca on a Norman-style shield with a dark blue field, with a gold band above and one beneath the orca, and gold around it. Crossed behind it is a harpoon leaning left and a Russian cross leaning right, topped by a raven with spread wings with the Orthodox Christogram above it. The supporters are bears, and the dark green ground beneath it contains forget-me-nots and crowberries.

The monarch's seal consists of a Greek cross, with the corners containing (clockwise from top left) MP ΘΟΥ (the standard Orthodox abbreviation of "Mother of God"), IC XC (the standard Orthodox abbreviation of "Jesus Christ"), a ligature of βδλ (the consonants of basileia, "kingdom") above AK (Anchorage and Kodiak) and AL LD (Abigail's initials; her surname is Littlefield).

Tagging @femme-et-traditionnelle, @miss-rogers-all-american, @melisssg99, @luvchristxx and @roses-red-and-pink for your opinions! Particularly if anyone has the time, skill and inclination to draw it, please do so!

*While made for the coronation, she still wears it at other extremely formal events, namely Pascha and the final dinner of potlaches.

#anchorage and kodiak #queen abigail

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chic-a-gigot · 2 years ago

Photo

La Mode illustrée, no. 8, 22 février 1874, Paris. Toilettes de Mme Bréant-Castel, 19 r. du 4 Septembre. Ville de Paris / Bibliothèque Forney

Description de toilettes:

Robe unie en faye noire avec corsage décolleté. Tunique-péplum en tulle noir, brodé d'étoiles en or. Sur le contour un mince cordon d'or, à chaque pan un gland noir et or. Cette tunique couvre les lés de derrière, forme un grand nœud sur le bord inférieur. Le centre de ce nœud est passé dans un large cercle en or. Ramenés sur le devant et drapés sur le côté de droite, les pans de cette tunique passent chacun dans un cercle d'or. Berthe drapée en même tulle avec pans garnis de glands, retombant sur le bras. Touffe dé roses sur le corsage et dans les cheveux.

Jupon bouillonné verticalement, fait en faye bleu indigo. Tunique en cachemire bleu de ciel avec pattes indigo fixées par un bouton d'argent. Casaque pareille fermée sur le côté. Grande écharpe bleu indigo.

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Plain black faye dress with low-cut bodice. Tunic-peplum in black tulle, embroidered with gold stars. On the outline a thin gold cord, on each side a black and gold tassel. This tunic covers the back lengths, forms a large bow on the lower edge. The center of this bow is passed through a large golden circle. Brought to the front and draped over the right side, the sides of this tunic each pass through a circle of gold. Berthe draped in the same tulle with sides trimmed with tassels, falling over the arm. Tuft of roses on the bodice and in the hair.

Vertically bubbled petticoat, made in indigo blue faye. Sky blue cashmere tunic with indigo tabs fastened with a silver button. Similar gown closed at the side. Large indigo blue scarf.

#La Mode illustrée #19th century #1870s #1874 #periodical #fashion #fashion plate #color #description #Forney #dress #bustle #evening #gown #Modèles de chez #Madame Bréant-Castel

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weekdaygladers · 2 days ago

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my dream ts tour set list!!

i mostly went with my favorites that had similar vibes/cohesive stories for each album. my idea also includes eras tour set/costume changes for each one, which i’ll describe vaguely bc i don’t wanna ramble too much 🥺

also tysm @gaveyouigaveyoui for organizing this amazing event!! you’re the best 🫶

debut - farm/small town visuals, lots of cowboy boots and hats, maybe a sundress outfit in pastel yellow or sage green

⁃ picture to burn

⁃ i’m only me when i’m with you

⁃ our song

fearless - high school visuals with a few fairytale ones to envision daydreaming, props for stands (like in ttpd), white flowy dresses or sparkly bodysuits

⁃ mr perfectly fine

⁃ fearless

⁃ jump then fall

speak now - fantasy/storybook visuals, maybe a dragon flying through the screens on the floor, ball gowns or tinkerbell type dresses

⁃ the story of us

⁃ better than revenge

⁃ long live

red - fireworks/dark academia visuals, all songs would be played with an electric guitar, a combination of og red tour outfits and eras tour outfits

⁃ red

⁃ message in a bottle

⁃ all too well 10 min version

1989 - nyc/general big city visuals, maybe a few seagulls flying on the floor screens, lots of flowy scarfs and multicolor bodysuits

⁃ style

⁃ wildest dreams

⁃ new romantics

reputation - dark fantasy/nightlife visuals, maybe a tokyo skyline to reference the endgame mv, snake imagery on asymmetric dresses in mostly black and gold

- delicate

- king of my heart

- dress

lover - clouds and rose gardens for the visuals, she could play piano for all of these or the acoustic guitar (a sax is a MUST for false god tho), pink and blue sundresses with lots of crystals on it

⁃ afterglow

⁃ false god

⁃ daylight

folklore - misty woods, lakes and mountains in the visuals, folklore cabin can still make an appearance, victorian era nightgowns or a slip dress in muted colors

⁃ mirrorball

⁃ this is me trying

⁃ the lakes

evermore - cabin/great plains visuals, the champagne problems piano can make an appearance and all songs could be either that or the acoustic guitar, plaid floor length jackets and bronze imperial cut dresses

⁃ cowboy like me

⁃ tolerate it

⁃ evermore

midnights - jewels falling/midnight sky visuals, could keep the chess theme for choreo, same bodysuits as the eras tour with different shades of blue and silver

⁃ bejeweled

⁃ question…?

⁃ mastermind

the tortured poets department - same visuals as eras tour ones but maybe more focus on the poet parts, all of these could be on the acoustic guitar or the piano, long flowy gowns with petticoats for some dimension

⁃ guilty as sin?

⁃ the black dog

⁃ i look in people’s windows

#swiftie sleepover saturday #alaska is typing...

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rapha3liii · 1 year ago

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Abigail, Emily & Haley! (part 1 of my bachelorette art!)

these are just my personal headcanons, mostly in line with my fic! the surnames are just ones I chose myself because I think these gals deserve a little more character :) Image descriptions and in-image text/captions are provided below!

Leah, Penny and Maru are next! (will get to the dudes eventually)

Abigail Mercer:

20 years old attending online university for Anthropology

tall compared to most villagers, even taller than her parents!

nose and bridge piercing done in Zuzu city

hearts drawn on with eyeliner

tattoo of thorned rose

Sam's old denim jacket, she cut the sleeves off with craft scissors

Amethyst gem-set sword commissioned from Marlon, her parents still haven't found it...

Silver bangle gifted from her mother

belly button piercing done by Emily in Sebastians basement, she definitely didn't get an infection from it-

sword tattoo inspired by the first sword she held

usually accompanied by her fathers retired leather satchel, holding her flute case and cool rocks she finds

her fishnets are the only thing shes ever bought from Joja Online and her dad is still mad about it

second hand doc-martins because her parents refused to spend that much on shoes (I don't blame em...)

Emily Larson

26 years old and the towns resident tailor

always wearing contacts!

average height

has helix, ear lobe and vertical eyebrow piercings

Always changing her hairstyle and colour, but blue seems to stick for longer than most!

She regularly attends ren-faires all over the republic

made this miniature cape for Zuzu ren-faire and hasn't stopped wearing it since...

hoop earrings and favourite lipstick given to her by her girlfriend, Sandy!

Wears lots of rings

obsessed with lantern sleeves!

always has her Nazar pendant on!

Acrylic nails are done by her younger sister, Haley!

exclusively wears gold jewellery

hand tailored dress and shirt

shoes are bought from a vintage clothes boutique in Grampleton

always wears her favourite ruffled petticoat under skirts

Haley Larson

18 years old and newly graduated from highschool, now a freelance photographer

shorter (and cuter!) than most

always wearing baby blue eyeshadow

shell necklace gifted to her by Alex, her best friend

cute face mole!

always wearing her grandma's bracelet

always using extra blush and face shimmer!

flowery blouse made by her sister, Emily

loves wearing mini-skirts, shorts and low-waist jeans!

regularly posts her landscape photography to her blog, and even won a local competition once!

her fav pleated skirt

loves swimming and paddleboarding in the sea by the beach!

despite graduating top of her class, she has little interest in academia - but loves art

really wants an ankle tattoo of a sea-shell!

cute strap heels she stole from her sisters wardrobe (Emily still hasn't realised yet)

[Image 1 ID: A digital drawing of Abigail from Stardew Valley holding a sword. She's smiling, with dark lipstick and purple eyeshadow, and has small hearts drawn on her cheeks in eyeliner. She has a bridge, nose and belly button piercing and blue eyes. She's wearing a sleeveless denim vest, with a black tank top underneath and black denim shorts with purple fishnets underneath. She has a tattoo of a rose on her upper right arm and another of a sword on her inner left calf. She has pointed black nails and two bangles on her right wrist. She has black platform boots and has a freckles all over her body. Her hair is a vibrant purple in waves reaching her lower back. In the upper left corner is her in-game sprite by 'ConcernedApe' and the artist's signature 'Rapha3liii' is in the lower right corner. /.End ID]

[Image 2 ID: A digital drawing of Emily from Stardew Valley pinching her dress in both hands in a bowing like gesture. The left side of her head is shaved while the right has straight, blue shoulder length hair. She has purple eyeshadow, pink lipstick and brown eyes. She also has gold helix piercings, a gold vertical eyebrow piercing and golden hoops in her lobes. She is smirking and looking to the right. She is wearing a layered red dress with a long pleated skirt. It has a white ruffled petticoat underneath. Under her red dress is a pink shirt with lantern style sleeves. She has a corset on over the dress with golden buttons and a miniature cape in dark red clasped to her shoulders. Two necklaces are hanging from under her shirt collar, one golden chain and the other a pendent of a 'Nazar'. She has long sharp purple acrylic nails and multiple rings on both of her hands. She is wearing dark red heels with button clasped straps. In the upper left corner is her in-game sprite by 'ConcernedApe' and the artist's signature 'Rapha3liii' is in the lower right corner. /.End ID]

[Image 3 ID: A digital drawing of Haley from Stardew Valley standing casually, smiling, with a tuft of her hair inbetween her fingers in one hand and blue eyes. She has golden blonde hair in waves just reaching her upper back. She has locks of hair over both of her shoulders. She has light blue eyeshadow and bright pink blush and lipstick, she also has a mole on her face just above her lips to the right. She is wearing a low crop blue blouse with short sleeves and a white lined flower pattern on it. She has pink nails and is wearing a necklace of a blue sea-shell with a golden chain and a bracelet with a golden chain and heart pendent. Her left arm is holding her hair while her right arm is crossed over her chest and resting on her other arm. She is wearing a pink pleated mini-skirt and blue heels with small straps around her ankles. In the upper left corner is her in-game sprite by 'ConcernedApe' and the artist's signature 'Rapha3liii' is in the lower right corner. /.End ID]

[Image 4 ID: A digital drawing with the three previously described characters all standing in a line. The order is Abigail to the left, Emily in the middle and Haley to the right. Each character has their in-game character sprite by 'ConcernedApe' on the upper left to them. The artist's signature 'Rapha3liii' is overlayed in three different places on the drawing. /. End ID]

This my first time ever writing image descriptions so please tell me how I did! I read some other blogs and advice prior to writing my own but I understand its likely I got some things wrong! Please let me know if I've formatted or written something in a way that makes the descriptions innacessible! Thankyou

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