#tailoress

[ojin-ngode]

Shopi

[entwinedreams]

OC BIRTHDAYS!

beaulieu siblings

ariane, december 12th jason, march 2nd andromache, april 22nd selene, feb 21st

rhiannon stellaro, oct 22nd.

salem mocchain, june 7th.

yukimura emi, august 30th.

iwakura yuko, april 4th.

imogen drosselmeier, may 1st.

viktoriya passerine, march 1st.

alaia d’aramitz, dec 24th.

mina shräder, november 29th

[hypnoneghoul]

Sundown: Chapter 15

WC: 1,1K

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: AU; Cowboy!Swiss x Barmaid!Mountain, Transfeminine Mountain, Fluff, Look Into the Future, Happy Ending

Once a year, they pack their bags, visit different places, sleep cuddled up together under the night sky or in a falling-apart cabin in the woods. Every year it’s different, they always end up wherever their feet—or rather their horses’ hooves—have carried them.

Playlist here. / Chapter 1 here or on AO3.

Read chapter 15 under the cut or on AO3.

Swiss and Mounty have been living together as a married couple for a few years. Their happiness never fades; when they argue, they make up in a matter of minutes. They made a promise to each other to never leave anything unsaid.

Swiss works with Dewdrop now, helping the man with things that used to cause him to overdo it; Rain and Phantom are eternally grateful for that. Dewdrop is, too, even though he isn’t one to admit having needed that help. Swiss is as happy as ever, being able to spend so much time with horses, side by side with one of his friends.

Mounty and Swiss have routines, both content finally being able to just live, without worrying about…anything, really. Once a year, they pack their bags, hop up on Monty and Taika and spend two weeks on the road. They visit Swiss’ old hometown, then.

Sunshine’s grave.

When they get back in the saddle after a few hours of something that never gets easier for the man, they don’t head back straight to Sundown. They visit different places, sleep cuddled up together under the night sky or in a falling-apart cabin in the woods. Every year it’s different and they look forward to their annual journeys for months; planning, but not really. After all, they always end up wherever their feet—or rather their horses’ hooves—have carried them.

Their life is beautiful.

Yet another day they wake up tangled in each other’s arms as the first rays of a morning sun shine through the curtains to bathe their room in light. They stretch and kiss and murmur sweet words and hold onto each other some more before they, inevitably, have to get up and ready for the day. They get dressed—stealing some more kisses whenever they can—and soon enough end up down in the saloon eating breakfast together.

“I’m going to pick up your gift from Cumulus later,” Mounty announces. Swiss nearly forgot about the dress he commissioned the tailoress to make for his wife. It’s been a while, but Cumulus’ works are worth any and all amounts of both money and time.

“Oh, is that so?” Swiss smirks, unable to keep his mind from conjuring up an image of Mounty in the dress, of how gorgeous she’ll look. “You gonna wear it for me tonight, sweetheart?”

“We’ll see,” she bats her eyelashes at the man; the image of innocence, even though they both very well know it’ll take no more than one sway of her hips in it to get the cowboy worked up. Or a neckline set strategically low.

“A tease, that one,” Swiss mutters to himself, shaking his head as Mounty giggles and returns to her breakfast. Both their plates are clean in no time and the man is kissing his wife one last time before he leaves for work. “I love you, girl.”

“I love you, too, cowboy,” she whispers into his mouth and only then lets him leave.

It’s a few hours before Mounty can leave the saloon herself and go pick her dress up and her excitement only makes it feel longer. The moment the clock strikes five, she’s all but running out of the door to barge through the one of Cumulus’ workshop.

“Hi!” she calls out and the tailoress appears two seconds later.

“I see you’re looking forward to slipping into your new dress, aren’t you?” she teases.

“Sorry, I’m just–you know,” Mounty waves her hands around as if it’s supposed to clear things up for the other woman, “I like…I just like feeling pretty.”

“My dear, you are pretty,” Cumulus pokes her chest with a manicured finger. “You don’t need no fancy clothes for that!”

Mounty can only blush and look down onto the floor. The other woman giggles, “But, when your man offers to get you some, never decline.”

It’s the barmaid’s turn to laugh as Cumulus leaves to fetch the dress. Mounty gasps once she drops it in her lap.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Mounty whispers as she fawns over the softness of the fabric in her hands.

“Thank me later,” the tailoress chuckles, “go try it on, girl!”

The barmaid sends her one more thankful smile before taking off. She runs back to her place, unable to change fast enough. The dress is beautiful, Cumulus really outdid herself this time. Well, maybe Mounty’s wedding dress could be considered a bigger achievement, but this one is a close second.

Mounty gasps once she’s fully dressed and looks at herself in the mirror.

The dress is double-layered. The first one starts on the top with a pearly white linen undershirt—short fluffy sleeves that rest low on her arms, leaving her shoulders bare—and goes down to Mounty’s ankles, making a beautifully embroidered hem dance around her feet. The corset of the dress—with golden lace on the front—looks solid, but it’s exceptionally soft. It’s light green with colorful flowers embroidered all over. The top layer of the skirt part is dark red, nearly burnt umber; it’s pleated and the pleats are crowded, but it’s not heavy. Quite the opposite, actually, it’s so light it makes the barmaid want to do nothing but jump and twirl around just to watch it spin.

All the shades of green and bright and dark red that dominate the dress make everything that’s beautiful about Mounty pop. It works perfectly with her eyes, hair and complexion, Cumulus really is an artist. She wonders how much of the concept was Swiss, though. Maybe it’s him that’s a secret fashion genius.

After a while of simply checking out the dress’ every single detail, Mounty smooths it down and leaves for the saloon. She’s careful around the bar, not wanting to risk dirtying her new dress; she only wipes random shelves with a dry piece of cloth, moving some glasses and bottles around only to busy herself as she waits for her husband to return.

Soon enough the batwing doors of the bar open with a squeal and Swiss walks in. A huge grin grows on his face the moment he lays his eyes on his breathtaking wife.

“Anything to drink for you?” Mounty asks, smiling at the man with nothing but adoration in her eyes. He simply stares at her, still in denial of how lucky he got.

“Well, ain’t ya a pretty thing?”

–––––––The End.–––––––

And...here it is. Swiss and Mounty's wedding was a definite end of the cowboy's old life and all the chaos and pain. He's been through so much that living all boring and slow with his wife for all the years to come is exactly what he wants, and Mounty's happy to give him just that.

I hope you enjoyed, thank you for all the nice words and support you've shown me and this story along the way. Special thanks to @jazz-bazz whose commission started it all, Sundown wouldn't have happened without you <3

[peterpparkrr]

Pinned - Epilogue

Series: Pinned

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader

Summary: The wedding. And the wedding night.

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: Here it is! I know I always say this, but I really appreciate all the love this story has gotten. Thanks for sticking with it! I hope you enjoy the happy ending of this story.

Warning: This chapter is 18+ as it contains sex. 

prev. part // complete series

I publish the banns of marriage between Viscount Anthony Bridgerton of Kent and Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) of London.

This is the third time of asking. If any of you know cause or just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, ye are to declare it. 

On June 7th, 1814, Anthony Bridgerton and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) were married.

It was a small ceremony. Even without a special dispensation, the ceremony was short notice considering the fact that most of London had no idea that the Viscount Bridgerton had been courting anyone at all, let alone on the precipice of an engagement. 

But that was what made it perfect. Small and intimate with just your families in attendance. Well, the Bridgerton brood and your brother and a few of your close friends. 

There was a brief mention of your wedding in Lady Whistledown. Considering how much ink the author had spent on Anthony it was expected that his marriage and the end of his rake-hood would be notable to her. But instead of making a scandal of his marriage to a commoner she merely teased that no one else would match his reputation and wished him and his bride all the happiness in the world. 

The wedding lunch was hosted at Bridgerton House. 

“My wife,” Anthony introduced you to each guest. Smug as he held an arm around you. 

The lunch was well attended. Many members of London society were curious to meet this unknown woman, rumored to have been a tailoress of all things, that had managed to trap the Capital-R-Rake, Viscount Bridgerton. 

It was clear to all in attendance that Anthony Bridgerton was enraptured with his new wife. And that she adored him in turn. You could tell just from the way they looked at each other. 

“Anthony,” You called out after Violet left your side to say farewell to a few guests.. He was standing right next to you talking with his brother. You knew he could hear you. But he was acting like he didn’t.

“Husband,” You tried again. Only for him to immediately turn to you.

“Yes?” He replied with a grin. 

“I think we ought to say our goodbyes, we should try to get to the inn before dark,” You tell him. 

You’d have been perfectly content to stay in London after the wedding. Anthony had work that meant there was no way for you to leave the country for your honeymoon, but he insisted on at least taking you to the estate. As the new Mistress of Aubrey Hall and the Viscountess Bridgerton, you deserved at least a month of marital bliss in your new home, and alone before his family would rejoin them. 

And Anthony refused to take his wife to bed for the first time under the same roof as the rest of his family.

“Is this alright?” Anthony asks hesitantly when the innkeeper shows you to your room. It was a small room. There were relatively few between London and Kent. It was a comfortable day’s journey, but with the late start, you’d decided to split the journey between two days and spend the night in an inn.

Your laughter washes away his nervousness. 

“I’ve never been anywhere that isn’t London, and certainly never at an inn this nice,” You remind him. “It’s perfect.”

“You’re perfect,” He murmurs as he winds his arms around your waist.

“Flattering your wife, you’re learning your husbandly duties quickly,” You reply with a smirk as you look up at him.

“I have another husbandly duty I’d like to teach you,” He murmurs before he presses his lips to yours.

“Patience is a virtue, Anthony, isn’t that what the priest said just this morning?” You ask as you carefully extract yourself from Anthony’s embrace with a teasing smile. “After supper.”

Anthony was certain you were drawing out your meal simply to vex him. Patience had never been his strong suit. And you knew that just as well as most. 

You’d taken your time with the meal as you ate in the dining room along with the handful of other guests staying at the inn tonight. You ate with no rush, as if you were blissfully ignorant to the events that would follow.

Or rather, that you were perfectly aware, and were choosing to behave this way to tease him. 

“Should we retire for the night?” You finally ask once you’ve finished your meal. 

“Yes,” Anthony replied as he abruptly pushed out his chair and quickly made his way around the table to pull out your chair. 

You can’t help but laugh as Anthony leads you up the stairs back to your room, an insistent hand pushing along at a brisk pace. 

“Finally,” Anthony groans as he presses you against the door once it’s closed behind you. 

“Are you going to consummate our marriage against the door?” You ask breathlessly as you look up at him through slightly hooded lids.

“We’re not even close to that, dear wife,” Anthony replies with a grin as his hands gently brush up and down your side. “Patience,” He taunts.

You open your mouth to reply but Anthony covers your mouth with his before you can get any words out. And your biting comment flies out of your mind as Anthony’s hands come up to your breasts, instead letting out a low moan as his thumbs run over your nipples over your dress.

“Bed,” Anthony mutters against the line of your jaw before he presses his lips back to your skin as you both blindly shuffle to the bed and Anthony presses you down into it. 

The cool fabric of the quilt presses against the back of your legs as Anthony pushes the skirts of your gown upward, his hands trailing up your legs as the fabric comes to pool around your waist.

Your dress suddenly feels entirely too tight around your chest as your breathing becomes heavier and heavier. You reach blindly behind you to try and reach for the lacing.

“Let me,” Anthony murmured as he finally pulled away from you, his hands making quick work of the back lacing of your dress before he helped you to pull the gown over your head, leaving you in your stays and shift. 

“All of these need to go,” Anthony muttered as he reached around you again to try and unties your stays.

Once you’d fumbled out of the rest of your clothing you laid back against the bed, trying not to shy away under Anthony’s heavy gaze as he pinned you to the bed.

“Aren’t you supposed to be naked too?” You finally ask once you’ve found your voice again.

Anthony only nods as he wordlessly reaches to pull off his coat and vest. You lean forward to help him pull off his shirt, your fingers nimbly undoing his buttons and fastenings the way you have countless times, the muscle memory kicking in to spite the nervous energy flowing through your body as you reveal new parts of Anthony to yourself.

“Oh,” You murmur once Anthony’s trousers and stockings are pushed down and kicked away.

You’re not innocent in the same way most brides are. You are familiar with the concept of the male anatomy. But never in this context. 

“What do you want? Tell me,” Anthony asks in a domineering tone as he comes back to you. Wanting you to speak your desires into existence.

The demand pulled your consciousness to the forefront once more as you struggled to find the words to describe exactly what it was that you wanted. All the things you’d never dared to wish for. The things that you had thought about only in dreams, both sleeping and waking but had never dared to speak out loud. You wanted everything. 

“I want… you,” You finally told him, your eyes searching his own as he bore down on you, his own eyes heady with lust as he watched you with the hunger of an animal. 

You knew of the baser instincts of men. And had seen glimpses of this in Anthony before. The night of the Opera. But it was always ruled by his desire to remain gentlemanly. 

But the utterance of one sentence from you seemed to allow Anthony the freedom to unleash himself before you. 

And you found yourself responding to it without hesitation. 

“Yes,” You breathe out. Trying to wrap your head around all of the sensations you’re feeling. Seemingly all at once.

And why should you hesitate? There would be no more wondering. No more waiting. No more talking yourself out of feelings that you thought you shouldn’t, couldn’t have. 

Anthony Bridgerton was your husband.

And you were his wife.

Anthony did things to you that you’d only heard quiet whispers of. Salacious things that were shared in frenzied hushes among women while they worked and gossiped. 

Things that brought you to the brink in a way you’d never experienced before. The precipice of something you could not name. 

By the time he had finally brought himself to you, it did not hurt at all. 

You’d been warned to expect pain. A lesser pain thanks to the shared affection between you and your husband, but a pain nonetheless. 

But it never came. 

You felt impossibly full and Anthony pushed himself into you. But it felt right. Good. Like you were finally whole. 

You gasped, your eyes flying wide open to look up at Anthony.  As he began to move a moan escaped from your lips and you felt yourself breathing into him as you pushed and pulled, both of you finding yourselves coming together as the pleasure built between you before it crescendoed as you shuddered beneath Anthony, gasping and heaving before you felt him stutter shortly after, bowing down onto you with a groan as he filled you deeply.

Anthony pressed a kiss to your lips before he pulled away from you and pulled the covers back before laying down beside you and pulling the sheets around your bodies as his arms came to wrap around you. He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, almost between your shoulder blades as you struggled to control your breathing again.

You might have laid there for minutes. Or maybe hours. You had no idea how much time passed before you finally found the energy to speak. Turning around in Anthony’s arms to face him.

“I don’t-” You tried to say, your brows pinching as you struggled to find the words for what you wanted to tell him. 

“What, my love?” Anthony asked. His own brow furrowed as he reached to tilt your chin upward, forcing you to look at him as he searched your eyes for the expression of pain or discomfort he was fearing he’d find. “Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No! Not at all!” You assure him quickly. “I only wanted to say that, I think I still have more to learn. Perhaps we ought to… do that again,” You tell him shyly, a coy smile pulling at your lips.

“Fiendish woman,” Anthony muttered as you pulled you atop him, pressing a kiss to your lips as you tangled your legs with his. 

Marriage clearly agreed with you both.

An impossible match that had made you impossibly happy. 

[moonshine-nightlight]

Nothing's Wrong With Dale - Part Seven and a Half*

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding  that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself. 

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

*Please note this is a bonus/missing scene

[Part One][Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] Part Seven.5 [Part Eight] [Part Nine][Part Ten] [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve]  [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two] [Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four] [Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

You hold still as the tailoress and her assistants draw their measuring tapes around you. 

After selecting your fabrics, the vendors needed to take down those displays to make way for various accessories and embellishments they also hope will be purchased. Some of the drapers sold those as well, but some independent milliners had also been invited to display their wares. 

While that change was happening, both you and Dale had been whisked off to let the clothing-makers take new measurements, in your case, or updated measurements, in Dale’s. Grandmother went with Dale, saying she needed to ensure they knew that Dale would be recovering from the dip in weight caused by illness and she’d not have them forget take that into account, leaving you to manage on your own.

Your maid helps you out of your current dress, a light green one, and into the undergarments which you expect to be wed in. The chemise is a gift from your sister, with beautiful maroon ribbon throughout it, finer than any other such garment you usually wear. Then came a pair of white stays and your newer underskirts—corded to give your skirt the right amount of fullness for the current fashion trend.

The tailoress is efficient as she takes your measurements, keeping up a steady stream of chatter to her apprentice and letting you know ahead of time how she wanted you to move or if she was going to reposition you herself. 

The curtains around this area make it easy to forget that on the other side of the room, Dale is also in some state of undress, but the thought is never far from your mind for whatever reason. You don't know why such a thought won’t leave your be–they certainly never bothered you before, either with regards to Dale or regarding other students at your school. 

Instead, you try to distract yourself with the fashion plates Grandmother passed to you before she went with Dale. For all you are sure Dale shall choose a very fine suit pattern, the truth is there is less variety to men’s suits these days. He is likely to choose some fine embellishments and you’re sure his waistcoat will have high quality and elaborate embroidery, but the actual cut of the suit is unlikely to be a difficult decision.

Even for your own dress, the primary decision with the fabric chosen is the neckline, sleeves, and waistline. Even your options are not hugely disparate. Despite the tailoress working around you, with your maid’s help, you are able to study each plate and rank your top choices for Dale and Grandmother’s approval with relative ease. Between the efficiency of the tailoring process and the quiet, you are able to recenter yourself from how overwhelmed you had abruptly felt earlier and rejoin the Northridges’ in a more settled mindset.

You spot Dale, who has already finished with his fitting, inspecting some boots. When you join him, you frown in confusion at them–not sure what they have to do with wedding clothing accessories. Dale must read the confusion on your face as he says, “There is a fashion in the capital to have new boots fashioned for a wedding, in addition to the other clothing. Can you not tell these are specifically designed wedding boots?”

You stifle a smile behind a carefully raised hand, now able to tell when Dale is having fun. Beyond the fact that the shelf of boots, while of high quality leather, are indistinguishable from normal boots to your eyes, his eyes twinkle as he smiles down at you. His playful mood is infectious. “Of course, my Lord. How could they be anything but for such a specific and important occasion? Nothing like ordinary, everyday boots at all.”

“Alas, I do believe this will not be a fashion trend my Grandmother will entertain as anything more than an admirable attempt of the cobblers to wring some additional coin from our wallets.” He holds out his arm for you to take. “I must turn away from this display before I grow heartsick over what I cannot have.”

You barely resist the urge to shake your head at his dramatic playacting, but take his free arm without hesitation. “And what shall you distract yourself with instead?”

“Aside from my lovely bride’s presence?” You duck your head, not able to even look at him at such a tease–the original Dale would never say such a thing unless ironically, but it did not seem so with this Dale. But was there another meaning? Why did he express such sentiments? To flatter you? To what end? “Surely there are other decorations here which can catch our interest. Does any table in particular stand out to you?”

You scan the room, noting many milliners have quite different displays. Were they all told to focus on one accessory? Evidently not all, so you head for the table with the greatest variety of accessories. Everything from parasols to lace trimmings to bonnets are arranged for your viewing. You examine a shawl, wondering if, given the weather, one was necessary or if perhaps you should be reviewing the parasols instead. It would not due to be burned from the sun on such an auspicious day.

Dale wanders over to the table next to this one as something catches his attention while you continue to slowly circle the original table. While fashion these days requires many accessories, people varied in what they purchased new for a wedding. Many only polished up what they had or wore their best, the older or richer the noble family, the more was bespoke for the occasion. Northridge was not particularly wealthy, but they were an old house.

The cost for a wedding was also something that varied, often unspoken to those not involved unless one family wanted to show off their wealth or culture. Your parents had been very clear about the finances of your betrothal. You had a larger dowry than was typical for a youngest daughter of little distinction–nominally in the interest of seeing you well settled. Unofficially it was to see you settled quickly, with minimal digging into your past health issues.

Your mother had implied that they would see you dressed well, but no more than what was appropriate. That your dowry was already more than generous. You thought there had been a compliment mixed in with these instructions, when Mother said you were not one for frivolous adornment as it was and so should not find it hard to resist. Mostly having to be judicious with your wedding clothes had seemed like another thing you could not have. She had said if the Northridges’ wished for anything more well-to-do, they could cover the cost or take it from your dowry themselves. 

So you knew precisely how much you had to contribute to your wedding clothing and it was for the dress alone, with perhaps one new accessory. You think through your clothing in your mind, trying to determine what you have that will do and therefore what item you should purchase to cover what you lacked.

“What do you think?” Dale has walked back over to show you some lace cuffs that are very finely worked. They might be the most expensive lace cuffs you’ve seen. Well, aside from your schoolmate’s, heir-apparent to the Jasika duchy, who loved lace above all else, including her considerable allowance. You resist your immediate response regarding how much they must cost and focus on their appearance alone.

“They are exquisite,” you say truthfully as you let him usher you over to the lace table he has been perusing. “They will go well with your suit.”

“I think so as well. Which do you think will go best with your dress?” Dale sets aside his own lace to look over the gauzier style usually attached to the ends of gown sleeves. “How long were you anticipating the sleeves to be?”

You blink. “Pardon? I was not going to. Not on my dress. Truly, I do not need the extra embellishment.”

Dale pouts. “But it is our wedding. If that is not the occasion for embellishment, what is?”

You struggle to find the right words to say that, as your dowry would go directly to Dale at the wedding itself, you did not control how it was spent, with only enough for the dress alone at the moment. The Northridges had acquiesced to that deal with no counters. That had been Grandmother and Grandfather, not Dale–did he not know that you could not afford such adornment?

“With the silk brocade for my fabric, I do not believe I require additional decorations,” you settle on, hoping he will understand.

He does not, frowning. 

“What is that, dear?” Grandmother has rejoined the two of you. “Are you not preferential to lace? It is of the highest quality and locally produced. I had hoped you would consent to wearing a collar mantle of it as well, to match. I have seen that you prefer plainer dress–which speaks well to your modesty and sensibility. However, I should think this was an instance where such restraint was not required.” 

Her words echo Dale’s own from earlier and you find yourself similarly unable to form an intelligent response. “Oh, no-that’s not it at all. I, I simply…” You wring your hands together as you try to find the words. How do one remind someone else they hold one’s pursestrings? 

“Is this about the manner in which your parents divided your dowry?” Grandmother leans in close to say, “That is of no consequence. I assure you there is no better use for one’s dowry than on the wedding.” 

Grandmother’s voice drops even lower, so none of the vendors can hear, “Pay no mind to the cost our enterprising entrepreneurs have listed. I will not have them overcharge us, however, a wedding is known to be a veritable catalyst to the local businesses and we intend for this one to be so as well.” She leans away and says in a clearer voice, “Indulge an old woman in spoiling her grandchild and his bride, will you not?”

Grandmother pulls away completely before you can respond, turning back to the table. “Some lace fringe for your sleeve caps would be lovely. Unless you wished for full length sleeves?”

“I,” you start to say before giving a slight shake of your head, trying to rally your thoughts. “No, as it will only be further into summer by the wedding. I had believed capped, shorter sleeves would be best.”

“As I anticipated,” Grandmother says, triumphant. “These are all suitable, which do you prefer?” She has selected four specific lace trims. You're still trying to catch up to the idea that Grandmother wishes to have you so fully outfitted for the wedding. In the end, you realize you’re waiting for Dale’s protest–that he would not want to waste your dowry that will be his on such trinkets for you.

Instead, he’s bent over the trims before he looks up at you. “I like the first and third, but of course the choice is yours, my Lady.”

You look down at the fine lace. Truthfully they are all very pretty and you have no preference. Reaching out, you pick up the first with one hand and the third in the other. Grandmother leans closer to see the details more clearly. She taps your left hand. 

You nod. “Yes, I believe the third would be lovely with the brocade.”

“Wonderful,” Grandmother says, putting them over with Dale’s chosen cuffs. “Now, I am aware it is no longer an aspect of high society to wear gloves, but I am afraid I shall have to insist for the wedding.” Grandmother strokes her own light blue gloves. 

Dale doesn’t appear to mind, merely walking over to the other side of the table to inspect the gloves available. When you start to follow, Grandmother steers you over to another table. “Missus Glass is where I purchase my own gloves and they are the superior ladies choice, I assure you. The softest and most comfortable by far.” 

When you lean down to take a closer look at the options, Grandmother tuts, “It is not enough to look at these, you must try them on. Go on, dear. You shall be the one wearing them.”

She waits patiently, sharing stories about her other children’s weddings as you try on a variety of gloves for her benefit, eventually settling on a light cotton pair of gloves. After receiving Grandmother’s approval, with only minimal tutting at the open weave before she admits they were more than acceptable for summer, she goes over to where Dale was examining some canes. 

You find yourself heading back over to the dress forms of Dale’s parents' clothing. Dale was to use his father’s handkerchief, but you are supposed to figure out some way to augment your own outfit with something from them as well. The obvious choice is some part of Dale’s mother’s silver, but that’s also the most delicate and well constructed part of the outfit. Anything you might take seems like a black mark against the way it is now, the whole it has managed to remain these years.

You slowly circle the form, trying to see how it is specifically put together and what seems the most easily removed without damage. You wonder what your parents might send in response to the letter you promised Grandmother you’d write. While aiding in your sister’s wedding, you heard all manner of comment about how weddings had changed, but your mother had never said anything about what became of her actual dress. Most likely she will provide jewelry of some sort, you think and so do not touch the jewelry on a pedestal nearby.

Perhaps…you move closer to inspect the round hat and its connected veil. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Dale walk over to join you, obviously in a far better mood from these days as opposed to yesterday's endless discussion.

“I was thinking that perhaps your mother’s veil would be the best way to incorporate some of her clothing into mine,” you say, gesturing to it pinned to the mannequin’s neck.

“A good idea,” Dale agrees, already reaching out to unfasten it. “The silver will go very well with your hair.”

You blush at the compliment, barely resisting the urge to reach a hand up and make sure he’s seeing the same plain hair on your head as you see. “The rest of the dress is so finely put together, I fear any other alteration could never live up to it.”

Dale nods absently as he takes the hat and veil from the form’s head. He turns you to a nearby mirror with confident hands on your shoulders. More quickly than you expect, he slips behind you to arrange the hat and veil onto your head. You freeze, not wanting to damage such an artifact. You feel Dale delicately arrange the veil and your hair, adjusting some braids so it sits better on your head. 

“What a lovely idea,” Grandmother coos before she leans closer for a more critical look. “I don’t believe the hat suits you though—and it's not the fashion anymore.” You agree, it makes your hair an odd shape and the black would not go with your dress. “We shall have that piece detached from the silver train. The decrease in length shouldn’t be a problem since you’re shorter than Qiana as it is.”

“Are you certain? I wouldn’t want to damage it.” Remaking these items is what Grandmother spoke of, but it's such fine, delicate work.

“Nonsense, it is meant to be worn–not kept in a crate somewhere in the dark. Dale,” she asks imperiously, “fetch one of those little caps so we can see how the veil would look with it. We shall ensure your bride is the finest in years.”

You stare at your reflection, which thankfully does not look as bewildered as you feel. Everything is coming together so quickly and easily, it's as surprising as it is rather wonderful.

Dale smiles to you in the mirror and goes to do as he is bid.

[Part Eight]

[gliklofhameln]

The wedding picture of Dora Sweetman & Isaac Feierstein By Boris Bennett. They were married on 15th June, 1930 at Fieldgate St Great Synagogue, Stepney. Isaac, born in Warsaw, was a master tailor with a workshop in Stoke Newington and Dora was a tailoress.

[flowers-of-io]

The Tower is scintillant, so much that Ór has to squint as she walks out onto the Courtyard. Whites and golds blind her with reflected sunlight. Eva Levante is obscured entirely by the mass of Guardians surrounding her, but Ór squeezes through them, and when the tailoress finally notices her, her face lights up.

"My dear!" She extends both hands to Ór--reconsiders--whirs around and produces a pile of neatly folded ceremonial armour seemingly out of thin air and pushes it towards her. Ór doesn't even manage to cough out a greeting before her arms are full of clothing. "I heard you've been to Titan."

"I... Yes." Ór fumbles with the mass of fabrics abruptly bestowed upon her. It is beautiful, like everything coming from under Eva's hand: ashen fabric threaded with bronze, soft but sturdy under her touch. Runi flickers into being over her shoulder to have a look.

With one hand she manages to unfold the cloak; it spills towards the floor, ornaments flickering in the sunlight. The hood is wide, just as she likes it, and it has a double feather attached at the temples.

"My first Solstice cloak had a feather," she doesn't know why she says it out loud. Her voice quivers a little.

"Try it on," Eva encourages. For a half-second Ór fears to look up and see grief in her eyes, but there is only warmth in them, her face shining as if she herself were reflecting the sunlight. "It is a fine attire to conquer the EAZ, I reckon."

Something cold drops in Ór's stomach.

"I don't want to go to the arena this year," she says. She doesn't need Xivu Arath's taunting in her head to think about violence-paths and rituals of war. There is no tangible shift in her perception, but the colours and lights of the Courtyard suddenly seem washed out.

"This is perfectly fine, my dear." Eva doesn't look at her with pity, and Ór is grateful for that. "If you'd like, you can help with gathering the leaves for the bonfire Commander Zavala will light up this evening down in the City.

"Wasn't that Amanda's job?" She can't help herself. She is surprised Eva would arrange something like that--it feels cruel.

Now there is sorrow in Eva's eyes, but it is gentle and dim, like a dying candle.

"He asked himself," she says, and gives Ór a small smile.

Keeping her emotions in check has been tricky lately. She doesn't want to cry out here, in full view of everyone.

"I..." She fumbles with the words and with the clothing. Eva just shakes her head, and the hand she places over Ór's is so warm, making the fight to keep the tears at bay ever the harder.

"Happy Solstice, Guardian."

Ór should turn around and take her leave right then, but another development as of late is that she has become her own worst enemy.

"How can we celebrate the Light now, without the Traveler?" She blurts out. What is up with her today?

Eva smiles at her again, and makes a motion with her chin at something behind Ór's back. The Hunter follows her gaze.

"Take a look." Next to the landing pad, on the way to the Hangar, a Dreg clad in green is talking to a Cabal two and a half times his size. They seem to be communicating mostly through signs rather than in either language, but the Cabal's rumbling laughter makes it all the way to Eva's post. "Isn't this the Light?"

The Ketches and Galliots and Interceptors filling the Traveler's empty space above the City are all blurry as Eva hugs her tight. Over her shoulder, Ór stares at them for a long time.

[ffxivaltaholic]

LFRP: Diarmune Rhet-Khas

Character Name: Diarmune Rhet-Khas

The Basics ––– –

Age: 55

Birthday: End of Summer

Race: Viera

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

Marital Status: Single

Physical Appearance ––– –

Hair: Quite long and silvery white. It is almost always pulled up in a ponytail. When down it is long enough to sit on (Hence why it is always up)

Eyes: Pale Green

Height: 6"1'

Build: Athletic and fit

Distinguishing Marks: Minimal scars from years of working with dangerous plants and animals. Two sleeves tattooed in a vine and floral pattern with a flower on his shoulder.

Common Accessories: His Gleaner gear, a journal, some kind of plant or flower probably...

Personal ––– –

Profession: Gleaner

Hobbies: Botany and Horticulture

Languages: Common (With a Thavnarian accent)

Residence: Thavnair/Sharlayan

Birthplace: Thavnair

Religion: The Twelve

Relationships ––– -

Spouse: None

Children: None

Parents: Father: Elías- Alive/Silk Maker | Mother: Myra - Alive/Tailoress

Siblings: Sister (Older Twin): Sofina - Alive/Student | Sister (Younger Twin): Helina - Alive/Student

Other Relatives: None that he knows of.

Pets: Korpokkur (Named Plum), Great Morbol (Named Dahlia)

Traits ––– -

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal 

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information ––– –

Smoking Habit:  Nope Drugs: None Alcohol: Very rarely, he is quite a light weight and suffers terrible hangovers.

RP Hooks ––– –

SHARLAYAN: While much of the Viera's time is spent away, he does return to his Sharlayan home from time to time, whether it's to bring in a specimen or to simply visit with old friends, he is not to difficult to find there, particularly as his clothing tends to standout against the more conservative and neutral tones of his Sharlayan counterparts. As a significant contributor in his field of study to the vast library over his three decades of work, Dia is most likely found there, but also will peruse the market and visit Labyrinthos from time to time. Especially if any of his projects are flourishing.

THAVNAIR: Born and raised in Thavnair, Dia spent his entire youth there with his family. They are prominent silk makers and tailors, specializing in ornate and delicate garments. He's very familiar with the locals and after the panic of the End of Days subsided, Dia visits far more frequently. He's often found in the Radz-at-han market, out by Palaka's Stand, or in the silk factory pitching in to help his parents. A Thavnarian born, he has an identifiable accent and tends to wear garments that connect him to his home.

GLEANERS: Are you a Gleaner too? Then there is a good chance you have crossed paths with him at some point in time, especially over the years of intense gathering in preparation for the End of Days. Due to the nature of his work (Specifically in regards to dangerous plants and plant-like creatures, IE: Morbols) it's very likely your Character might work side by side with him, or at least in the same vicinity.

TRAVELS/IN PASSING: There are very few places on this grand shard that Dia has not been, which means his availability to meet people is vast and ever expanding! Perhaps you came across him at an Inn, or aboard a ship? Maybe you met him in one of the main cities, or out in the boonies of the continents... Regardless, Dia can be basically anywhere necessary to meet your character. (Note: Not the First however, I'm fairly lore strict on this point since only the WoL can freely travel back and forth at this point in the story and he is not a WoLPC.)

Contact Information  ––– –

I would prefer to be contacted via Tumblr first before giving out my Discord.

In game and Discord RP works for me, though I prefer in game.

His Carrd: https://diarmune.carrd.co/

[gladdygirl18]

omggggg i have an amazing story for you guys! It might be a bit long im not sure but ofc as always, read under the cut

Blue me, orange BF

some spicy stuff (mainly implied)

so about a few days ago, i was chilling with my boyfriend in his room (i was doing HW/writing a story, he was reading a webtoon) and him being cheeky, started tickling my feet (i swear to fuck i think my feet got more sensitive after being with my ex-gf)

Okay so what Im about to say will shock many ppl, but in this relationship, my BF and I don't hide things from each other. So he already knows I like tickling and I have a tumblr page. He had asked me, "what is your blog about tickling?"

I told him, and I quote, "Yes, actually, it is."

Yes, I told my boyfriend I had a tickle blog.

"I've had it for about.... since before covid, or during covid, i don't remember."

"Are you serious?"

"I'm being so deadass right now. Our friends know i have a tumblr blog, but they don't know what it's about. You are the only one that knows."

I then continued to tell him that I not only do I write about the 2 of us (like I am now), but about the tickle fics i write for my OCs and characters of other fandoms. He was surprised and even looked me up on google, and low and behold, he found me.

After all of that, I then asked him, "Is it weird that i have a blog about tickling?"

"Of course not. Tickling is something you love, and from what you've told me, it's gotten you through a lot of hardships because it cheers you up. Why would I judge you or shame you for something you love and something that I can easily provide for you?"

AHHHHH I DONT DESERVE HIM I DONT 😭💖🥰

And when he said he would provide, oh my goodness, does he provide. After that conversation, he straddled me and started tickling me like crazy. When I would try to fight back, he would grab my wrist and hold them back.

"See this is why I need those restraints, because someone won't take their tickling~"

Just end me now. He said he'd mainly use them for my ankles so he could have both hands free to tickle me 😆💖😋 he is such a fucking tease i cannot with him, but i love him all the same💖🥰

And you wanna know what he said after he tickled me for damn near 5 minutes straight?

"Put that in your tickle blog~"

😶🙃💖😭WHY HE BULLY ME /jk /lh

Some days later, i believe during the weekend while at his place, he had left early morning for work and i decided to sleep in. After waking up, I helped his mother make her other sons' halloween costumes (It was really fun! My mother was a tailoress and she taught me how to mend clothes, so doing this with my boyfriend's mother felt like i was doing clothes with my momma again, and it was great 🥰💖 God bless that woman, I love her so much!)

Around mid-afternoon, my boyfriend came home from work, ad we just cuddled for the rest of the day. and once again, my boyfriend's hands started to travel up my sides and he started tickling me once again. And while I was laughing my ass off, he says, and I quote:

"Would you write about this in our tickle blog? Dear tickle blog, today my boyfriend tickled me till i couldn't breathe~"

I HATE TO ADMIT IT BUT HE DID😭😆💖

Yknow the type of laugh that just has your mouth open, nothing coming out but just air (best kind of laughs in my opinion) but yeah, he had me silent laughing.

Cut to a few days later, my boyfriend and I were getting a midnight snack. At first I thought he was being cute by hugging me from behind (how wrong I was😅) ofc he starts tickling me, and idk y but i was just very sensitive that night and I literally crumbled to the kitchen floor, and he followed me down. He sat down on the floor with me between his legs just tickling me.

"Let me gohohoho!" "Nope, I've got you right where I want you."

where we were sitting, we had a clear view of the oven door, and he goes, "Who's that giggly girl? Who is she? Do you know her?"

THE BABY TALK I CANT AHHHH 😆😆💖🥰

After that, he started tickling a part on my upper/inner thigh and oh my God. I was bucking around and laughing like a maniac, and my boyfriend couldn't help but laugh along to. He would stop after a while and ask "Are you okay?" while laughing and then do it again. His grip around me was strong but i was thrashing around a lot. "You almost knocked me off a few times there."

After he finished torturing me, he stood up, looked down at me and grinned, "Put that in your tickle blog"

"You're evil"

"Oh, dont act like you didn't love it"

I couldn't say a word after that, cuz there were no lies detected

Three mornings ago, I'm sleeping over at my boyfriend's place, and me, I like sleeping in (but we had to get up and leave the house within the hour to get to campus) but our classes started late so we had time. This man climbs on top of me and starts tickling me for like 10 minutes straight

"Rise and shine honey" "Come on, laugh for me, baby~" "Who's my tickly girl?"

AHHHHHHH I CANT WITH HIM 💖😆😭

After he finished tickling me, he craddled me in his arms and pulled me in close, hugging and kissing me sweetly.

"You don't know how happy I am that you're ticklish."

"What do you mean?"

"It's my way of giving back to you for all you do to me. I may not always give you pleasure in certain ways, but having you laugh and squirm around in my arms, and cuddle close to my chest... it makes me really happy, because it makes you happy."

WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE HIM 😭💖💖🥰 I LOVE HIM SO MUCH OMGGGG 💖💖🥰😍

And a few days ago, my boyfriend and I had a day out with our families to have them meet (his mother and 2 younger brothers, my father and sister), and everything went along better than expected. Throughout our time out, I had wore a crop top with short shorts and ofc, my boyfriend would sneak in some tickles to my sides every now and again.

After our day out, my boyfriend's mother drove us back to campus. While driving back, my boyfriend wrapped his arm around me and started tickling me; my sides, belly, thighs, behind my knees, neck

AND I COULDN'T MOVE CUZ WE WERE IN A CAR 😭😭😭I WAS LEGIT TRAPPED

But id be lying if i said that wasn't fun. When he finished tickling me, he whispered, "Put that in your tickle blog."

Yeahhhhhhhhhhhh he's never letting me live that down

This was a very long TTS, only because it was covering a plethora of days and crammed it all into one. Stay tuned for another one!

Tagging the fwends: @giggly-squiggily @sunstone-smiles @burningablaze @cutesmokes @otomiyaa

[sewingpatches]

Started the jumpsuit base for Tiggy’s Fallout New Vegas Rex cosplay!

I used the pj pattern Bella by The Tailoress off Etsy for the base, then heavily altered it for my needs.

There will be more alterations to come! As one leggy is still furry when the others are not. Then to make foam bits that’ll button onto the jumpsuit 😅

Hoping my buddy can 3D print me a brain for this cause I dont want to sculpt 🥲

[illuminopetnx]

OC INTRODUCTION

Iandara Mandaguari (She/her)

Akangan tiefling (homebrew), mid 20s

Swarmkeeper ranger

Bisexual

Vibe: Feira de Mangaio, by Clara Nunes

BIOGRAPHY

Iandara was born and raised in a village on the northern steppe. Growing up in a time of uncertainty due to the threat of foreign invasion, she was constantly in odds with the village elders due to her curiosity about the outsiders passing through the village.

In an act of stubborness, Iandara decided to participate in the gruelling ritual to select the village's new guardians, the noiteiros. To her own surprise, she was the only one left after hours of having her hands stung by thousands of bullet ants.

As the new noiteiro, Iandara was granted access to part of the Swarm, ancestral souls trapped in insect form, bonded to the earthly realm through rituals using sacred bone flutes, which kept the knowledge the villagers had acquired throughout the centuries.

To the relief of the village, Iandara seemed to take her role seriously, dilligently performing the necessary rituals and chores. That was, however, until the arrival of a mysterious triton, who captivated Iandara like no one had done before.

The triton recruited Iandara's help to study the medicinal properties of local herbs. After months working together, Iandara and the triton decided to get married.

When the big day came, the triton was gone. The noiteiros soon realised that one of the sacred flutes had been stolen. Blame immediatelly fell upon the missing triton, and Iandara was accused of treason and exhilled from the village. She managed to keep her Swarm and thus, survived the crossing of the wastelands until the nearest city.

There, she met an old human tailoress who offered her passage to the Old Continent in exchange for help in her atelier. In this new land, Iandara discovered her true passion: fashion. Slowly, she progressed from fitting clothes to designing and making them from scratch. Her life took another turn when the tailoress passed away, and Iandara was dismissed by her children.

Struggling to survive, Iandara moved into a small room which doubled as her atelier, and started catering to sailors and cabaret performers who valued her willingness to work odd hours.

Fixing trousers proved not to be enough to make ends meet, and with the encouragement of one of her clients, she joined an adventuring party.

[hetagrammy]

If you don’t mind me asking, In your regency au do you have any ideas pertaining to who Arthur’s less-then-socially-acceptable kids moms are?

I don't mind at all! They don't exactly play a part in the story for a variety of reasons. Their mothers aren't any canon characters we know of, just random women Arthur came across while he was in port. However, I do have some vague ideas about them:

Alfred was born in 1804 in Boston, Massachusetts. Arthur's ship was on the way up to Nova Scotia and it happened to be a stop on the way. His mom was married, but separated from her husband, and made her living as a tailoress. She gave Alfred up to Arthur's family after he'd been weaned, as she wanted better opportunities for him and she feared if her estranged husband returned he'd harm Alfred. Alfred can't remember her, but Arthur thinks he takes after her.

Matthew was born in Halifax, Nova Scotia in 1804 (Alfred is just barely older than him). Matthew's mother was a fishlass, hence how she met Arthur. She had Matthew prematurely and died of childbed fever. Matthew was initially a sickly baby as a result and was sent by his maternal grandfather to Arthur's family when he was about two. Even though he loves Matthew, Arthur does feel very guilty about what happened to his mother.

Ralph's was born in Sydney, New South Wales in 1806. His mother was a prostitute who gave him up because she didn't want him, and Arthur was actually in the area to claim him. He was the first of Arthur's kids that he actually got to take care of as a baby, and that's something Arthur really values.

Eleanor was born in Kororaeka (Russell), New South Wales in 1807. Her mother was the daughter of a European and a Maori woman, but when Arthur met her she was unattached. She was involved with trade between the Maori and Europeans. Her mother gave her up because of the opportunities Eleanor would have, and like with Ralph, Arthur was in the area to actually claim her. Arthur returned to England with Ralph and Eleanor soon afterward.

It's worth noting that Arthur was roughly 17-18 when Alfred and Matthew were born, so it stands to reason he wasn't exactly making the most responsible decisions of his life.

[entwinedreams]

“you look about as tired as i am, decima.” even during her lunch, mina is still working- her long, slender fingers pushing an embroidery needle and royal blue embriodery thread through the collar of a rosebud pink blouse. “i hope you’re sleeping enough.”

mina voice test. // @denphelia

[casperiusandmartenique]

CHAPTER 3

“HORACE!” Casperius’s voice echoed off of the stone walls of the large manor house he lived in as he threw open both of the large front doors as he strode through.  Long steps took him across the grande entrance as he waited for his butler to show himself.  There were things to be done and plans to be made, and Cas wanted them started right away.

“Sir?” Horace appeared from a side room, not sure what had upset his master.  Not that Casperius was a calm demon, but he normally didn’t come in yelling and upset.

“Come into my study.  I have plans to make and I need you to organize the staff and household.  Changes are coming.”  His tone left no room for question and it was an order, not a suggestion that it would be done.

Horace motioned for someone that had been in the room with him to follow and quickly caught up with Casperius.  He would ensure that whatever it was that his master wished would be done, and done to perfection.  It was one reason that he was so trusted by his master.  While he was a servant to Casperius, he was also a trusted advisor to  the noble demon.

As soon as Casperius entered his office, he went straight to the massive mahogany looking desk that dominated the room and stood behind it, waving his hand to bring up an illusion of the manse and grounds in the center, and off to the side a floorplan of the top floor where the residence apartments were.  He also brought up one apartment up.  Leaning over the desk, he studied the center portion first.  Things would be taken in order. 

Horace was quick to enter behind Casperius and his brows knit together when he saw what his boss was leaning over.  What did the demon have planned?  Close behind him was Visalus, the valet for both Horace and Casperius.  He was trusted by both and if there was something serious and extensive that was going to need to be done, Horace had a feeling that his aid would be needed.  Both men felt a sense of dread when they saw the situation that they were walking into.  Horace closed and locked the french doors that lead into the large room walled with floor to ceiling bookcases then turned to his master, “what is it you wish of us, sir?”

“Come.”  Casperius beckoned the two males.  He was glad that Horace had brought Visalus without having to be told to.  “The grounds have been rather plain around the manor house of my property that are not wooded.  This needs to be changed.  I want gardens, hedge rows, flowers, ponds with fish, reflecting pools, fountains.  I want it to be as grand as the Palace of Versailles.  There is a nature sprite who will be coming to visit in the near future.  I want her to be impressed and for what we have to leave her in awe.  This is not a request, this is an order. Am I clear?”  His gaze alternated between the two before him.

Horace’s brows rose and he looked over at Visalus.  A female?  A sprite?  They were doing extensive landscaping just for a visit from a sprite?  “Yes, sir.”  Horace answered in a clipped and efficient manner with a head nod.  He would not question, regardless at the moment.  Later, when things were progressing he would inquire what had brought this about.

“Good.”  Casperius nodded in acknowledgement and moved to the floor plans next.  “This empty apartment next to mine is to be redecorated immediately. A door is to be put between it and mine.  The fireplace and chimney are to be inspected and readied for use.  Colors are to be muted and of nature. Linens are to be silken and creams, pinks, silvers, and bluish-gray.  I am going to need a tailoress fae immediately.  This is to be done in the next few days.  Questions?”

Once more Horace and Visalus looked at one another, there were lots of questions that both of them had, but neither of them were sure if this was the time to begin asking them.  Both men gave small shrugs, the questions would wait.  “No, sir.  I will summon the fae immediately.”  Horace responded.  

“Good.”  Casperius nodded and now finally looked up at the two men.  “I need the kitchen staff to research and learn what nature sprites eat.  In coming days, I want sampling menus.  I want some of our normal dishes to be altered in ways that might make them palatable.  Food needs to be available for our guest when she comes, she may be staying.” 

“Of course, sir.” Horace nodded.  “We will ensure your guest is taken care of and welcome.  However, if I may take a moment, are we to assume that the sprite will now be a resident of the manor?  If so, will she require staff as well, My Lord?”  The changes that Casperius was making were bold and drastic, not something that the demon was known for.  He did not change things for others, only for his own purpose and pleasure.   If he was changing things for another now, then something had happened and Horace wanted to be prepared and to prepare the others.

“If things go according to my plans, then she will be a permanent resident of the manner.  However, she will not require additional staff other than a permanent tailoress fae.  Find one needing long term employment and who can keep her mouth shut.  I want one with discretion.”  Horace was familiar with how lose lipped fae could be and he understood the concerns of Casperius.  He gave a curt nod in response to the request.  “She will be mine.” 

Horace’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, he knew he had heard Casperius right but the true meaning behind it he was unsure of.  “Yours?” He finally managed to get out in a tone and inflection that said it was a question of so much meaning.

“MINE.” Casperius stood erect and looked Horace straight in the face.  What about that declaration was so confusing to people?  Martenique had been confused by it as well.  That Horace did not seem to understand the stated and unstated implications of it displeased him and Casperius’ face reflected that.   Visalus stepped back some, unsure of what was going on, but not wanting to feel his master’s ire.  “She has agreed to court.”

“To court?”  Horace asked, clearly flummoxed and confused.  Had his master struck his head? He was not sure if demons could get traumatic brain injuries, but that would at least explain this sudden change.  Maybe the sprite was really a seductress of some kind and had him under some kind of enchantment.

“She is quite…unusual.”  Casperius picked the word that he thought would best fit her.  “She is unique and when she comes here I want her to be so enraptured with all that she sees that she will not want to leave.  You two will make it happen.”  A smirk formed on Caperius’s lips and the look on the rest of his face indicated to both of the males before him that failure was not an option.  Pain and torment would be the only rewards for not meeting his expectations.

“As you wish, sir.” Horace bowed slightly and Visalus mirrored it, both men now confused on what had caused such a change in their master.  If a female had indeed captured his interest, it could cause great change in the manor.  If she was of the same mind as Casperius, may Lucifer help them all.

[runawaycarouselhorse]

My headcanon for what Yota of Palm Town looked like as a child. I based this on George’s clothes in his childhood and on labourers during the last century, as Yota’s mother was very poor and likely a seamstress/tailoress, since he learned to sew to help her. His clothes are oversized for him to grow into and wear for longer periods of time.

[ffxivaltaholic]

FFXIVMixedMay - Day 1: Introduction

A brief summary about my characters:

Jellal: Ala Mhigo born, former conscript and Magitek Engineer, the Miqo'te Seeker specialized as a sniper during his combat years but has since settled down a bit, gotten married and taken up bounty hunting. He has a gruff and stand-offish nature but is loyal to those he holds close and will protect them at all costs, even the annoys ones... His main vice is smoking, but he's cut back significantly thanks to his wife. Currently he has a workshop set up that allows him to work on various magitek projects and weapons. Tlalli: TBA (Pronounced Tah-lee) I will be expanding upon her once Dawntrail has dropped and I have more Lore. She is spicy :P

Diarmune: Gleaner, author and Seedkin specialist, he is a sweet well mannered scholar born and raised in Thavnair. Son to a silk maker and tailoress, he has developed a wide range of skills over his fifty-five years of life. Having been across multiple continents in search of rare and desired plants and flowers, as well as studying various seedkin from around the world. His specialty is Morbols, having even raised one of his own as a companion creature and study it. Her name is Dahlia. He speaks with a Thavnarian accent and has a very smooth tone, though sometimes he can talk a little too quiet. Not a fan of sweet, he instead loves spiced foods with lots of flavors and some heat. His mother makes the best curry, according to him.

Ame: A child of Doma, she was born into nobility but was forced to face the world after her home was razed to the ground. Sheltered and with no real survival skills she relied heavily on her partner to help navigate this dangerous world. Determined to help, she was introduced to Astromancy and pursued it over the years in the hopes of aiding others and doing her part. When not at the infirmary she runs the Pink Lotus Tea House and Cafe. Ame has a very motherly nature and often takes on the role of therapist in her company. Her favorite color is pink.

N'akani: Born to the 'N' tribe she fled her home as a young teen after her father, the Nuhn, was murdered under deception from a rival, and she was taken as a reward. Living as a street rat in Ul'Dah she survived on wits and trickery, eventually getting out of her life of thievery and catfishing and settling into a more stable life with her partners. She is obsessed with gold, be it the color, the coin or anything that is shiny and opulent looking. If it's gold, she wants it. While N'akani has some combat training she is not a fighter by trade, and lists her career as Make-up Artist and Body Painter, specializing in henna style designs, glam and theatre makeup. Flirty and very friendly, she can be deceptively sweet, especially if she wants something.

Isanii: Steppes born, she trained at a young age as a priestess and midwife among the Kagon tribe, however after her brother went missing she set out on a journey to find him that took nearly ten years. In the end she succeeded and through her journey also met her mate. She is a sweet bubbly woman, and while she may not be the most clever creature, the Xaela makes up for it in being a very kind and loving person. She is currently learning how to read. The most time consuming task in her day is combing through her incredibly long hair, and she has a penchant for sweets and treats. Due to her strong moral grounds as a priestess, Isanii will not lie, which can occasionally lead to some awkward conversations. She suffers from an autoimmune condition and often falls ill, forcing her to live a fairly docile life due to her weakened body.

Tsirae: An Ishgardian Knight, he is the youngest of four sons, but the only Bastard, and shares a father with the other three. During the Dragonsong War he fought along side his closest friends and lost many during the battles, leaving him scarred across his body from the conflict. After the war had ended he would lend his sword to the resistance in Garlemald. Quiet by nature, Tsirae has a noble demeanor and tries his best to always be an upstanding person and embody what being a Knight should be. To protect his home and people, to be honorable and respectful and always maintain his sworn morals. When not in armor, he runs a jewelry business with his partner, that had previously belonged to her father and his, however they have recently retired and signed it over to Tsirae and his partner.

Zhira: A woman who gambled her way to the deed to her ship, Zhira is a Pirate Captain and lives her dreams of the open ocean with a faithful crew and a beautiful ship at her command. She is stubborn and devious in nature, with an eye for expensive items and a strict code, one she enforces on her crew as well. Despite being pirates, she will not deal in the trafficking of lives. Goods and contraband is fine, but not lives. Fiery and loud, she has a presence among her crew and they often would run down other pirates and loot their ships. Currently she has an agreement with the Maelstrom that keeps her out of trouble, but there are always new adventures on the horizon.