#vannes

[paprikapaporina]

Breton Miku 🤍🖤

(Celtic region in France)

I've seen so many bigouden, so have a vannetaise / gwenedadez🤍🖤

Miku is wearing the traditional party outfit that women from bro gwened woere. Machine lace and embroidery became very popular during the 19th century, as they were made more widely available to people. It's especially noticeable with hats because more than 100 types of hats were invented by breton women. Nowadays, these outfits are still worn but only for celtic-themed celebrations. People gave up on wearing their outfits aroundthe middle of the 20th century. The languages spoken there (Breizh and Gallo) are endangered, as they were forcefully replaced by French via policies implemented since the late 19th century. Nowadays, there's a renewed interest in Breton culture, which I'm happily trying to support with this Miku ^^

The background is based on a picture I took in Quiberon/Kiberen (the peninsula that sticks out on the map bellow) The shadow above the sea is an island named Belle-Île-en-Mer / Enez ar Gerveur (the big island).

What's next to Miku ? Let's take a look !

Baskodenn = traditional basket used by fishermen Gotchial = brioche-bread mix from Rhuys Peninsula Farz Forn (or Far Breton) = dense eggs-and-milk custard cake, usually made with prunes.

The cup in her hand and the tiny plate under the farz forn also are traditional dishware.

I had a lot of fun drawing this! The embroideries are not perfect (tbh I was too lazy lol) but I'm glad I finished this piece anyway. I hope you like it :D

[postcard-from-the-past]

Street scene in Vannes, Brittany region of France

French vintage postcard

[laurentspeach]

captive prince as random tweets i’ve saved

damen:

laurent:

lazar:

nikandros:

ancel:

vannes:

orlant:

[hankdali]

[happywebdesign]

Les Arbres Fruitiés

[mich-bois]

AU MUSÉE.

Vannes.

[carolemm]

Vannes (56) : ses façades, ses galettes 😋

[sous-le-saule]

Vannes

[dieleerezwischendensternen]

Last evening at Vannes and last evening at the Bretagne... Tomorrow we travel back to Paris...

[folfar]

yo does the tumblr void want some Sunblind? Some Auguste and friends before their lives were irrevocably destroyed and 2.5 of them died?

In Sunblind Auguste reminisces about a time he really pissed Vannes off:

Damianos has a similar look of mortification on his face as Auguste recounts this. “That,” he stutters - “those are private things. What on earth had you done ?”

“Stopped her from riding an unbroken Patran stallion some fool had brought to show off. She’s an incomparable horsewoman now but he would have killed her.” - and so of course he had interceded, said that it was a fine creature, but wouldn’t the lady do him the honour of escorting him to luncheon instead? Here, the roses are blooming in the east garden, shall we go that way, milady? And then of course after she had smiled, and curtsied, and taken his arm, they had got out of sight of the stables and she had shoved him (to little effect), stamped on his foot (to more), and told him that he’d pay for this .

Well, this is the immediate aftermath - Vannes’ revenge (phase one of her revenge, before she realised she could just fuck every single girl he liked):

It would have been fine if it weren’t for the stablemaster. Being from Barbin and, furthermore, the father of three red-headed daughters himself, he was simply putty in her hands.

“Excuse me, has the Prince gone this way recently?”

Auguste shrank farther back into his hiding place. Etien shook his head at him solemnly. “And to think,” he whispered, “all this could have been avoided.”

“Shhh!” said Auguste frantically, and tried to crunch his knees up around his ears. He didn’t think the stablemaster had seen him slip in, but —

“Yes - oh, thank you! Yes, his Lady Mother has asked for him - ha, I shall be sure to tell her! Good day!” Mother was not asking for him - Mother had a megrim and was shut up in the solar with strict instructions that no-one, particularly not her children, was to bother her. He held his breath. Maybe she’d moved on?

There was an ominous creak, like the barn door had closed. It was unusually empty, as the stablehands were all out attempting to corral the stallion. Geraint had grimly reported that it had broken its halter, and last he saw had been menacing an elderly clerk that had had the misfortune to be crossing the courtyard.

“Au-guuuste!” This was a very bad sign, as dropping the Prince meant that the stablemaster had slouched off for his luncheon. Or possibly that the stallion had eaten one of the hands. Either seemed likely.

It was time for the last line of defence.

“Do I have to?” Geraint hissed.

“You’re the one that said ‘please don’t!’” Auguste whispered back, furiously.

With a sigh, Geraint unfolded all of his considerable height and meandered up towards the voice.

“Oh,” he said woodenly. “I didn’t see you there, Vannes. I have been napping.” He was an awful actor. Whenever they were forced into participating in the solstice masques Geraint had always been relegated to the role of - tree, or giant, or, on one notable occasion, ‘stupid villager’.

“In the hay?” she said sweetly.

In their hiding place, Etien nodded, looking pleased. Etien had put the hay in his hair, for authenticity. “Yes,” Geraint said, after a pause.

“So Auguste is here,” she said, and then, raising her voice, “Auguste! You coward! Come out right now!”

“Why… Why would you think that?” Geraint asked, in a supreme act of improvisation.

She tch’d. “As if I don’t know that you all go for those ‘afternoon naps’ together, so you can all fondle each others balls or whatever it is—”

“Vanni!” Geraint said, shocked. Auguste’s face burned. Etien put a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking.

“It’s true! AND I can hear Etien laughing, so get out of my way—”

“Vanni,” Geaint said in a warning tone. Was she trying to dart past him? Had he caught her?

“Hands OFF, you great lump—” and then an oof, like someone extremely large had been thumped in the stomach. “Don’t think I didn’t hear you tell him to!” she shrieked, and then Auguste knew the jig was up.

“You win,” he called morosely, and stood, offering a hand to Etien, who was still laughing. He emerged from the last stall, to see Vannes standing over Geraint, who was clutching his stomach and wheezing.

“What did you do to him?” he said in alarm.

“Payback,” she said coldly, dusting off her hands. “And now it’s your turn.” From her chatelaine, she unhooked a wicked looking pair of scissors. “I thought - what matters to Auguste as much as horsemanship matters to me?” She advanced on him. Snip snip went the scissors. “I’m taking the hair.”

His hand flew to the back of his head. He’d just got it long enough to tie back! And he’d been growing it for months now, and he’d had such a row with Father about it in the first place, who’d accused him of looking ‘shaggy’, ‘unkempt’, ‘like a cowherd.’

“Not a chance,” Auguste said, backing away. “And I did you a favour!”

She howled with rage. “I could have managed it!”

“It’s not a case of could, Vanni, it’s a case of would! As in - the stallion would have killed you!”

“Publicly humiliating me! In front of the Vaskian ambassador!”

“Vanni,” he pled. “Be reasonable!”

She stamped her foot. “Your Vanni privileges are revoked! It’s my-lady-of-Barbin to you!”

Geraint was out of action, and Etien was in hysterics. Both were currently useless. He considered every course of action available to him that didn’t involve knocking Vannes out cold, and made the sensible, princely decision - to run away.

The stables had a back door. He could burst through there and then scramble up one of the orchard trees before she caught up, and descend when her rage cooled off. A week, maximum. He could live on apples for a week.

“No thankyou!” he yelped, and fled.

She shouted after him but he raced between the stalls, and was out the door before she could catch up. He paused, panting. He just needed to slip between the barn wall and the kitchen garden and then -

A looming shadow blocked his path.

Yaren smiled, and tossed the apple she had been eating over her shoulder.

“My lady,” she said, drawing another pair of scissors from her pocket, “wants you to know that she was not - what’s the phrase? - ‘born yesterday.’”

[gite-milvain]

Porte Saint Vincent, near Place de Gambetta

[postcard-from-the-past]

Washing houses in Vannes, Brittany region of France

French vintage postcard

[line-56]

Bretagne Morbihan 🌊☀️🌃🥰💕 #bretagne #morbihantourisme #vannes #beautedelanature #paysage #landscape #nature #photography #naturephotography #landscapephotography #photo #travel #naturelovers #photooftheday #voyage #sunset #photographie #picoftheday #on #focus #vacances #soleil #paysagemagnifique #randonn #mountains #mer #photographer #sky #art #travelphotography Comment like and follow me please 😊🙏🏻✨ (à Bretagne, France) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqRNb-yDmmK/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[ikar56-blog]

[postcard-from-the-past]

100 years ago:

Vannes, France *by Roland Billant

[carolemm]

🤩 Vannes, la nuit 🌚🌃