#were made much later into the 1800s

[no-passaran]

Genocide experts warn that India is about to genocide the Shompen people

Who are the Shompen?

The Shompen are an indigenous culture that lives in the Great Nicobar Island, which is nowadays owned by India. The Shompen and their ancestors are believed to have been living in this island for around 10,000 years. Like other tribes in the nearby islands, the Shompen are isolated from the rest of the world, as they chose to be left alone, with the exception of a few members who occasionally take part in exchanges with foreigners and go on quarantine before returning to their tribe. There are between 100 and 400 Shompen people, who are hunter-gatherers and nomadic agricultors and rely on their island's rainforest for survival.

Why is there risk of genocide?

India has announced a huge construction mega-project that will completely change the Great Nicobar Island to turn it into "the Hong Kong of India".

Nowadays, the island has 8,500 inhabitants, and over 95% of its surface is made up of national parks, protected forests and tribal reserve areas. Much of the island is covered by the Great Nicobar Biosphere Reserve, described by UNESCO as covering “unique and threatened tropical evergreen forest ecosystems. It is home to very rich ecosystems, including 650 species of angiosperms, ferns, gymnosperms, and bryophytes, among others. In terms of fauna, there are over 1800 species, some of which are endemic to this area. It has one of the best-preserved tropical rain forests in the world.”

The Indian project aims to destroy this natural environment to create an international shipping terminal with the capacity to handle 14.2 million TEUs (unit of cargo capacity), an international airport that will handle a peak hour traffic of 4,000 passengers and that will be used as a joint civilian-military airport under the control of the Indian Navy, a gas and solar power plant, a military base, an industrial park, and townships aimed at bringing in tourism, including commercial, industrial and residential zones as well as other tourism-related activities.

This project means the destruction of the island's pristine rainforests, as it involves cutting down over 852,000 trees and endangers the local fauna such as leatherback turtles, saltwater crocodiles, Nicobar crab-eating macaque and migratory birds. The erosion resulting from deforestation will be huge in this highly-seismic area. Experts also warn about the effects that this project will have on local flora and fauna as a result of pollution from the terminal project, coastal surface runoff, ballasts from ships, physical collisions with ships, coastal construction, oil spills, etc.

The indigenous people are not only affected because their environment and food source will be destroyed. On top of this, the demographic change will be a catastrophe for them. After the creation of this project, the Great Nicobar Island -which now has 8,500 inhabitants- will receive a population of 650,000 settlers. Remember that the Shompen and Nicobarese people who live on this island are isolated, which means they do not have an immune system that can resist outsider illnesses. Academics believe they could die of disease if they come in contact with outsiders (think of the arrival of Europeans to the Americas after Christopher Columbus and the way that common European illnesses were lethal for indigenous Americans with no immunization against them).

And on top of all of this, the project might destroy the environment and the indigenous people just to turn out to be useless and sooner or later be abandoned. The naturalist Uday Mondal explains that “after all the destruction, the financial viability of the project remains questionable as all the construction material will have to be shipped to this remote island and it will have to compete with already well-established ports.” However, this project is important to India because they want to use the island as a military and commercial post to stop China's expansion in the region, since the Nicobar islands are located on one of the world's busiest sea routes.

Last year, 70 former government officials and ambassadors wrote to the Indian president saying the project would “virtually destroy the unique ecology of this island and the habitat of vulnerable tribal groups”. India's response has been to say that the indigenous tribes will be relocated "if needed", but that doesn't solve the problem. As a spokesperson for human rights group Survival International said: “The Shompen are nomadic and have clearly defined territories. Four of their semi-permanent settlements are set to be directly devastated by the project, along with their southern hunting and foraging territories. The Shompen will undoubtedly try to move away from the area destroyed, but there will be little space for them to go. To avoid a genocide, this deadly mega-project must be scrapped.”

On 7 February 2024, 39 scholars from 13 countries published an open letter to the Indian president warning that “If the project goes ahead, even in a limited form, we believe it will be a death sentence for the Shompen, tantamount to the international crime of genocide.”

How to help

The NGO Survival International has launched this campaign:

From this site, you just need to add your name and email and you will send an email to India's Tribal Affairs Minister and to the companies currently vying to build the first stage of the project.

Share it with your friends and acquittances and on social media.

Sources:

India’s plan for untouched Nicobar isles will be ‘death sentence’ for isolated tribe, 7 Feb 2024. The Guardian.

‘It will destroy them’: Indian mega-development could cause ‘genocide’ and ‘ecocide’, says charity, 8 Feb 2024. Geographical.

Genocide experts call on India's government to scrap the Great Nicobar mega-project, Feb 2024. Survival International.

The container terminal that could sink the Great Nicobar Island, 20 July 2022. Mongabay.

[Maps] Environmental path cleared for Great Nicobar mega project, 10 Oct 2022. Mongabay.

#shompen #genocide #stop genocide #india #indigenous #indigenous peoples #indigenous rights #human rights #anthropology #stateless nations #end occupation #andaman and nicobar islands #nicobar islands #great nicobar #💬 #asia #geopolitics #ecocide #sustainability

[secretjeon]

Could you write something for SebastianxF!reader? Maybe later in their 7th year with Sebastian being jealous of all the boys interested in you. Him figuring out his feelings for you and maybe some kissing at the end 😳

ONLY YOU; SEBASTIAN SALLOW

pairing: sebastian sallow x f!reader

warnings: teeny tiny bit of angst if you squint, some arguing, jealousy, very quick slight suggestiveness, reader is seriously so desired by everyone its not even funny, fluff!!! not proofread!

word count: 1k+

a/n: first time writing for sebastian but it was so much fun im so excited!! for anyone who might want to request I write fluff, angst and smut so there's not really any limits. i don’t know how to write dialogue as a british person in the 1800s, so take it easy on me, but i hope u like it!! 🤍

comments/reblogs/likes are appreciateddd

He didn't know why he was so upset at the sight before him. You were currently sitting in your Defence Against the Dark Arts class, waiting for the professor to begin.

It wasn't just you at your table. There were also two boys, whose names you can't remember. They were both bragging about different things to you, one about Quidditch, the other about his amazing skills in Herbology.

It was a painful sight to watch, seeing as Sebastian was sat at the table just behind you. From where he was, he could very obviously tell they were trying to flirt with you. It bothered him deeply, why would these guys ever think they had a chance with you?

Smart, beautiful, perfect you. Things he all believed. Of course, he didn't think anything of it. Why wouldn't he acknowledge how beautiful you were? That was just simple human nature. But that didn't stop him from wondering why he was so bothered by the guys flirting with you.

He hated the thought of them doing anything with you. Talking with you, kissing you, touching you. The thought made his blood boil.

This wasn't the first time this had happened. Sebastian can recall the many times your chats were interrupted by another guy trying to take you on a date. Of course, you said no each time, but it wasn't any less annoying to him. He'd learned to refrain from rolling his eyes at this point, but still silently cursed the lads in his head.

"Alright, everyone! Take a seat." Professor Hecat spoke, allowing the two boys at your table to sit at their respective seats.

"Today, we are going to be doing something a little different. I want you to each partner up with someone, and then I will be explaining the rest." You immediately got up, about to go towards Sebastian when another boy got in your way, Liam, if you can remember correctly.

"Hey, Y/N, wanna partner up?" Sebastian couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes this time. You paused for a moment, trying to find a way to politely reject the boy.

"Erm, sorry... Liam, right? I'm afraid I've already partnered up with Sebastian." The brunette boy lit up at your words, suddenly feeling confident and looking at Liam with a smug face.

The other boy nodded with a tight lip smile, before leaving, defeated. You sat down next to Sebastian, who now had a bright smile on his face. "What are you all smiley about?" You teased.

"Nothing, let's listen for Professor Hecat's instructions, yeah?" Both you and him brushed it off, spending the rest of the class chatting up a storm and doing the assignment.

___

A few days have passed, and it just so happened to be Valentine's Day. You and Sebastian had gone to The Three Broomsticks to drink a butter beer together, as your own 'Galentine's Day', though you weren't sure if you could call it that because Sebastian wasn't a girl, but you were both single so the concept was the same.

You were sipping on your drink, enjoying each other's company when you see a guy who you recognize from your Charms class, someone whose tried to ask you out before, approach you.

"Y/N? It's Patrick, from Charms? I was wondering if maybe you'd wanna get a drink with me." This visibly angered Sebastian, his grip on his glass tightening, knuckles turning white. Before you could speak, Sebastian decided to tell Patrick a few words of his own.

"Don't you see that she's busy with me right now? And I don't know if it's clicked in that noggin of yours, but have you ever considered that maybe she's just not into you?" His voice was slightly raising at this point, but you couldn't help but find it attractive.

Patrick's eyes widened a little before backing up, muttering an apology and walking away. You turned to face Sebastian. "Why did you do that? You didn't even let me get a word in."

"Oh, please, Y/N, didn't you see how he was looking at you? It's like you were a chocolate frog and he was ready to eat you! Trust me, he's not the right guy for you." You quirked an eyebrow at his statement.

"Then who is?" You watched as he hesitated for a moment, before taking a sigh as if to prepare himself, and looked you in the eyes.

"I am," You stared at him in shock, not knowing what to say at the sudden confession.

"Y/N, I'm not sure why I didn't come to this realization sooner, but I've fallen for you. Deeply. I mean, we've gone through everything together, and you're just so perfect. You're truly one of the most amazing people I've ever known, and I've never felt this way about anyone be-"

You cut him off by leaning forward and capturing his lips with your own, catching him off guard. He's thrown off at first, but quickly matches your rhythm with his own, your lips fitting together like puzzle pieces, sparks flying everywhere in the room.

The kiss is everything and more. With his mouth still on yours, he grabs your chair, pulling you in closer, before moving his hands to you, one on your face, holding your cheek, the other holding your hand.

You both break apart, breathless with stupid smiles on your faces. "I've been waiting forever for you to say that." You grab his hand with both of yours.

If it was possible, his smile got even wider at your words. "You have?" You nodded, figuring it was time to confess.

"You've given me absolute butterflies since the moment I met you, Sebastian. I had all but hoped that you felt the same way. Why do you think I've always rejected the guys that flirted with me?

It's because it's you. It's only been you." You lean in for another kiss before Sebastian suggests a real date, perfectly fitting the day. The two of you leave The Three Broomsticks, feeling happier than ever before.

#Sebastian sallow #Sebastian sallow x reader #Hogwarts legacy #hogwarts #harry potter #Sebastian sallow fanfiction #Sebastian sallow fluff #Harry Potter hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow fanfic

[skamenglishsubs]

Subtext and Culture, Young Royals, Season 3, Episode 3

Episode 3 picks up the day after the camping trip, and Wilhelm calls his mom to check on her. She dumps a massive guilt trip on him, maybe unintentionally, and Wilhelm is feeling a little bit down.

Culture: These are Swedish studentmössor. They originated in the 1800's among Nordic university students and they wore them as a common marker. Later, they were adopted as graduation caps for high school students, signifying that they were now allowed to begin studying at a university.

Culture: Valborg, April 30th, is a traditional Swedish holiday where you celebrate the coming of spring with bonfires. It is also the start of graduation season for high school students, and graduates are allowed to start wearing their caps.

Cinematography: This season they started writing most on-screen social media commentary in English, despite those users being pretty obviously Swedish. I suspect it's because it saves them having to subtitle all of them, it makes it a bit easier for all the viewers to follow along.

Subtext: No, keeping up appearances is more important than mental health for the royal family, which is why this is new behaviour that Wilhelm has never seen before.

Subtext: As a reminder of the increased interest, here's a paparazzi intruding on school grounds. Also, where the hell is Malin? Isn't it her job to shoo away photographers?

Culture: Vintern Rasat is a classic Swedish song celebrating spring that's often performed by student singers at Valborg.

Subtext: Boris cleverly offers August individual therapy, something he sorely needs.

Subtext: It's of course a bit ironic that pretty much the entire fandom hates August and has decided that he can't be forgiven or redeemed. Yes, you, dear reader. But Boris lays out a way for August to start his redemption arc. Will it work? Tune in for next week's episode!

Culture: These usernames reek of white supremacy. Norse mythology references are very popular, and 88 means H*il H*tler, so that's the kind of people we're dealing with. The show is also foreshadowing what's gonna happen at the end of the episode.

Blink and you miss it: Linda made Pabellón, a Venezuelan dish. In season 1 we didn't know where Linda was from, but in season 2 she was canonically made as being from Venezuela, just like Omar is in real life.

Subtext: I think August actually cares, Kristina is family to him too, but Wilhelm refuses to treat him as family, so he lies about how she's doing. Not very convincingly, though.

Cinematography: This is an absolutely hilarious shot with a bunch of students anxiously peering out through the windows as the dreaded enemy arrives: Skolinspektionen! Dun-dun-dun!

Blink and you miss it: There's a rainbow flag on the board to the left.

Subtext: Vanessa totally knew she interrupted a makeout session between our boys. Oh, and there's a lot of purple in these two scenes, colour theory exploded with joy.

Subtext: Simon will be proven wrong, someone will be honest.

Subtext: It's also ironic that Simon joins the rest of the Forest Ridge boys pretending to have a great meal together that is totally not stiff and awkward at all, absolutely not.

Lost in translation: Simon Walter says that May 1st is a "röd dag" - a red day, which is how Sundays and public holidays are usually marked in a Swedish calendar. "Bank holiday" is the term used in the UK for public holidays. There are 13 public holidays in Sweden each year.

Culture: Första Maj is the name of the International Workers' Day in Sweden, because it always occurs on May 1st. In defence of Henry and Walter's shared braincell, most Swedes actually don't participate, but it's a bit weird to not even know what it is.

Subtext: This entire sequence shows how Felice's dad tried to stick up for himself, but quickly learned to keep his head down instead and conform and roll with it. And it wasn't just the other students who were racists, the staff was in on it too. This goes for all the shit the students are doing, the partying, the booze, the alcohol, the bullying: The staff is in on it. They know. They're complicit.

And despite all of this, Poppe's immediate answer when asked how his time at Hillerska was, is that it was the best time of his life. This is why schools like this stay the way they are, why they never change, because they're very good and very bad at the same time. Trauma-bonding works, the kids will all get friends for life, they'll forget the shit and remember the good times. They'll become like him.

But when Felice learns what the school did to her dad, she decides to help shut it down, to stop the cycle of abuse. The reason she goes in alone is because she now knows she can't trust her dad, he's gonna defend the school, and she also doesn't want him to know that she snitched.

Subtext: In official surveys, students from schools like this generally rate them very highly. Student satisfaction is very high. Maybe they're lying, maybe they're delusional, but they sure care more about their schools than public school students.

Blink and you miss it: REAL SUBTLE THERE, SHOW.

Subtext: Keeping with the school theme, this is how students defend the shit that goes on. Outsiders are kept in the dark, you don't tell them anything, because they "wouldn't understand", they're missing the "full context", etc. Oh, I don't know shit about fashion, but Fredrika's jacket smells very expensive.

Blink and you miss it: While Wilhelm pinned a polaroid of himself and Simon prominently on his wall, August keeps a similar polaroid of himself and Sara hidden.

Subtext: Micke's redemption arc is in full swing, so why not play a song that reinforces the idea that people can change?

Subtext: August's redemption arc is in full swing, so let's cut to him nervously waiting outside Micke's place for Sara to come home, while the same song is playing. Is he gonna be a villain forever?

Blink and you miss it: Micke introduces himself as Micke af Eriksson when August introduces himself as August Horn af Årnäs. The English subtitles for some weird reason went with "Micke Eriksson of Bjärstad", but that's actually not what he says.

Subtext: Sara is pretty realistic about her expectations of her dad because she's seen this before, but this also applies to her expectations of August, because she knows that he can also slide back into his normal shitty self. Also, she's wearing a purple sweater.

Subtext: In case you forgot, August's dad also struggled with addiction, and died from it, so he and Sara actually has that in common. Maybe there's hope for this redemption arc thing?

Cinematography: I don't fucking know why they included this baking scene. It serves no purpose, and I suspect quite a few people in the production have a serious hand fetish, because what is this? What is this? Also, why are Simon and Wilhelm joining what appears to be a Manor House thing with the rest of the girls? How? Why? This makes no sense! It's very cute, though!

Subtext: Oh ok, we got a social media pic that Sara could see and feel bad for her lost friendships. But man, those Hillerska aprons! On point!

Subtext: This is unfortunately a very common thing for people on any kind of psychoactive medication. How can you tell if you need medication if you feel good right now? Is it lasting or temporary? Can you trust your own brain? Either way, fantastic conversation between Micke and Sara, which starts her on her journey to reconcile with Felice at least.

🎵 I can change, I'm not the same, not forever. 🎵

Culture: The official hat-on-putting ceremony where all the third-year students put on their hats, set to another traditional Swedish spring celebration song: Vårvindar Friska.

Culture: It's Valborg, so Hillerska has their own little bonfire. We saw some students with torches pretending to light it, but it's actually floating in the middle of the fountain so, uh, how did they do that? Normally, your local bonfire or Majbrasa is just a huge heap of wood that you set on fire.

Cinematography: Man, this is a pretty show. Look at that shot. The fire, the sunset, the pool reflection. The end of April is over a month after the spring equinox, so the days are getting longer, and the sun now sets at about half past nine in the evenings.

Subtext: Ok, let's do one more on-the-nose lyrics thing for when August sees Sara back at school. Yes, yes, he needs her.

Culture: I had to post about it immediately after watching the episode, because setting a sex scene to Uti Vår Hage is hilarious. Everyone in Sweden knows it, most people have sung it at school, it's a cute little song about enjoying your garden, flowers, and giving your loved one a wreath of flowers. I can now never hear this song without thinking about this scene. Thanks a lot, show.

Blink and you miss it: Simon fucks Wilhelm. Yay! Versatile supremacy!

Subtext: Sara is still so suspicious of her dad's behaviour, she can't make herself trust that his current good period will last.

Subtext: Even though this dialogue is about how Simon and Sara are so different, it of course also applies to how Wilhelm and Erik were different, because Wilhelm struggles with not being able to handle his duty the same way Erik could.

Culture: Alright, it's time for the actual local Första Maj event in Bjärstad. The town is probably a bit small to have a proper demonstration parade, but there's people with banners and socialist slogans, and a bunch of local organisations have joined in, including Bjärstad BK, the football club Rosh plays in.

Culture: Meanwhile, the absolutely not socialist rich kids at Hillerska are nursing their hangovers and enjoying the day off, and they're doing some yoga and playing some padel instead. As you do.

Subtext: Drugs. He looks like he's selling drugs.

Culture: These apparently confused a bunch of viewers, but they're just raffle tickets. It's one hundred numbered, rolled up, paper tickets stuck on a metal ring. When you buy a ticket you just tear it off at the perforation, and when all tickets are sold you can just break the seal on the ring and pour all the stubs in a bag or whatever so you can draw winners.

Blink and you miss it: Cute kiddo has a pride pin on his jacket.

Lost in translation: The show waited a bit with showing what it says on the banner behind them in the photo, but if you can read Swedish you immediately saw that it says KROSSA ÖVERKLASSEN - CRUSH THE UPPER CLASSES. Oh no, Simon, what have you done?

Blink and you miss it: Like a pack of rabid wolves, the social-media starved Gen Z kids rush to their phones for an hour of glorious feeding on Instagram and TikTok.

Blink and you miss it: I love Vincent so much, he's terrible, but he's just so much fun! The little fist he makes as he says "kampen" just seals it.

Subtext: The show still hasn't revealed the banner text to the non-Swedish audience, but Wilhelm immediately sees it and knows how bad it is and why Farima tried calling him seven times. Also, Vincent is just on a roll here.

Cinematography: Man, this is a pretty show. Look at that shot. Look at how they perfectly aligned the hole in the window with Simon, the police car, and the entrance to their house, as he discovers that someone decided to vandalize it.

#young royals #young royals subtext #young royals analysis #young royals season 3

[slaybestieslay946]

Luke Castellan and Persephone!Child (I know she doesn’t canonically have Demi-god kids but I feel like it fits well) with a story similar to Eurydice and Orpheus’s sad tale.

thank you so much for your request, it acc ties in really well to a fic idea ive had for a while, so i was so excited to see this in my inbox!!

Circle

MASTERLIST

word count: 1800

pairing: luke castellan x persephone!reader

warnings: death, minor depictions of violence, angst

a/n: partly inspired by the request, partly by mitski's song 'circle' honestly i think it made this extra gut-wrenching. hope you all enjoy!

'Nobody knows my lover, is buried underground.'

When Luke Castellan received his quest, everyone knew who he would pick to take with him. 

Immediately, he turned to you, flashing you a bright grin, and beckoning you towards him. You laughed, wading through the crowd to your lover, smiling brightly all the way. 

The rest of camp half blood rolled their eyes fondly at the pair of you, and just how disgustingly in love you were. 

It had been like this ever since you arrived at camp half blood, mere months after Luke himself. 

You’d been escorted to the Hermes cabin by one of the older campers, and sat down on a bunk bed. You had looked around the place, lost, confused, and homesick. 

And then a boy stepped up to you, asking how you were, what your name was. And gods, even at the age of 14, you knew he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. Luke thought the same about you. 

He was so drawn to you, he couldn’t stay away. 

Now, even 4 years later, nothing had changed. 

He was openly enraptured by you, just as Hades was with your mother. He was never seen without you by his side, so of course he’d pick you to bring on his first quest.

A few days later, you set off, Luke’s half-brother, Chris Rodriguez in tow. Everything started off well, you’d managed to locate someone to tell you where the Garden of Hesperides was, in order to retrieve the golden apple that you had been sent for. 

On the way there, you hardly encountered any monsters. You lived comfortably, even if you slept in motels every night, and dined on gas station food. 

It all went downhill when you finally reached the garden. 

You and Chris stood guard whilst Luke stepped towards the tree, no sword in his hand. You kept your spear gripped tightly in your hand, should he awake the dragon sleeping at his feet. 

He eventually reached the foot of the tree, taking a deep breath before reaching up into the branches, and trying to snag one of the apples. Meanwhile, you didn’t take your eyes off the dragon, watching it for any sign of movement. 

And when it finally opened its dark eye, looking up at Luke, you ran forward, sprinting towards it with your spear outstretched to stab it. 

But you weren’t fast enough, and it turned, slashing a talon across your chest, and sending you collapsing onto the ground, blood soaking into your shirt. 

Luke darted towards you and in his rush, he wasn’t able to avoid the sharp tail of the dragon whipping across his face, leaving a fine cut all the way down it. 

He ignored the biting pain, barely able to register it when all he could see was you, lying on the floor, a pool of blood encircling you. 

“Hey, Y/N.” He whispered, patting your cheek gently, cradling your body to his chest, “You’re gonna be alright, yeah? Just open your eyes for me baby.” 

You struggled to do as he asked, looking up at your lover with confused eyes. 

“You-” You coughed, “You have to go. It’s over for me. Gonna go see mom.”

“No, no. Gotta stay with me. We can get through this.” He cried, brushing his thumbs across your face.

“I- I- I love y-you. W-we’ll s-see each other ag-gain.” You did your best to smile, and while all you wanted to do was reach up and hold his face, you found you didn’t have the strength to do so. 

He continued to cry and beg you to come back, but it was all for nothing, you’d gone silent, and your eyes were all still. 

And then vines began to wrap around your body, pulling you into the earth, down towards Persephone, your mother. 

Luke kept crying as they took you away from him, leaving nothing but your camp necklace behind. 

“Hey, man, we gotta go.” He heard Chris call, and he whipped his head around to berate him, until he saw his half-brother was currently in combat with the dragon that had killed you. 

He was right, they had to go. 

He scooped your camp necklace off of the ground, and ran towards his brother, who detached from his fight with the dragon to run away from the garden. Luke followed after him, tears streaming down his face the whole way. 

*

When Luke got back to camp, he was different. Numb. 

Annabeth ran up to him when they descended the hill, a bright smile on her face at her older brother's return. It faded slightly when she saw you weren’t right beside him. 

“Where’s Y/N?” She asked, looking around as if you’d pop out from nowhere.

“Gone.” Was all Luke could manage to say, pulling his little sister in for a hug he so desperately needed, confirmation that at least she was still here. 

For the next few months, he barely left the Hermes cabin, only ever going down to the amphitheatre in the early hours of the morning, where he could be seen slashing recklessly at wooden dummies left right and centre. 

He didn’t know how to live without you. He always thought you’d be with him forever. He had this vision that together you would grow old, and would die while sitting on some front porch, holding hands as you went at the same moment. 

Now he realised that it was a pipedream. You were demigods, it was never going to work out like that. 

But he couldn’t go on living like this. He didn’t want to wake up in the morning if you weren’t beside him. So he formed his plan, to go down to the underworld and retrieve you himself. 

His father was the god of travellers, and your mother was the queen of the underworld. It could work. 

So he travelled to the entrance to the underworld, your camp necklace in his hands, and prayed. First to your mother, asking for an audience, and second to his father, asking for use of his access to the underworld. It was the first time he had ever asked Hermes for anything, and if this worked, it would probably be the last. He’d never want for anything again if it meant you were with him again. 

And it did work. The gate opened to him, a long staircase down into the darkness. Luke descended quickly; he didn’t want to keep Persephone, or you for that matter, waiting.

He soon found himself pushing through crowds of lost souls, keeping a look out for you, but you were nowhere in sight. He then turned his attention back to reaching Persephone’s throne, breathing a sigh of relief as he finally found himself at the foot of it, looking up at the goddess herself. 

“You requested an audience with me, Mr Castellan. I hope this is not about my daughter.” Persephone said sternly, looking down at the demigod, her fears confirmed when she saw the string of beads clutched in his hands. 

“It is, but-”

“There’s no buts. I can’t do anything about your predicament. It is not within my jurisdiction.” She declared, her voice growing regretful, “My daughter is in Elysium, and that’s where she must stay.” 

“My lady, I understand that this is difficult for you. But we both know Y/N… died before her time. She would want to come back. She deserves to have a life.” 

“And you would give that to her?” 

“Yes.” 

“And you would protect her, better than I can?”

Luke gulped, “Just as well.” 

The goddess sighed, and muttered, almost to herself, “We have had this problem before, persuasive mortals and their tales of love. Let’s see if you can fare any better, Luke Castellan.” 

“I will release my only daughter from the underworld, on one condition. As you lead her back into the world of the living, you mustn’t look back at her. She will be following you, trust me on that, demigod.” 

“And if I do? Look back?” 

“Then you will never see her again. Not in your world, nor mine,” She looked down at him once again, a sad look in her eyes, “Now go, exit through the fields of asphodel, she will follow you from there.” 

Luke nodded firmly, and turned back around, returning the way he came, smiling more brightly than he had in months. 

He was going to see his Y/N again, all he had to do was not look back at her, how difficult could that be?

He pushed his way back through the fields of asphodel, keeping a tight hold of her camp beads. As soon as they reached the surface, he would string them around her neck again. He’d be able to hold her face in his palms, to kiss her, to hug her. Everything would be alright again. 

As he returned to the staircase, he felt a rush of wind behind him. It had to be her. Then, to confirm his suspicions, he heard soft footsteps on the stone staircase. Luke smiled to himself once again, wishing so desperately that he could greet her, but not wanting to break Persephone’s rules. 

He continued up the staircase for what felt like hours, it was definitely taking him a lot longer this time. The thing that kept him going was your footsteps behind him, a reminder that you were still there, following after him. 

Until they stopped, right as he became able to see the light coming from the living world above him. 

He paused for a moment, listening out for you. But he couldn’t hear anything besides his panting breaths and the odd screech of a harpy. 

Luke began to grow worried, a pit forming in his stomach, but he kept climbing the stairs. Persephone told him you’d be following, she wouldn’t lie, would she?

Or maybe it was all some elaborate joke. Fortune hadn’t been on his side recently. 

Maybe he should check. Just a peek, it couldn’t hurt, could it? What was so wrong about him looking back anyway, why shouldn’t he want to see his lover, the girl he would do anything for?

So he did. He turned, to look over his shoulder. 

And of course, you were right behind him, just like your mother said you would. 

At first you looked joyful to see him, and then your face fell in horror as you realised what he had done. You reached out to touch him, to hold on, but you couldn’t quite reach. And then you felt yourself being pulled back, away from him. 

Luke watched on in horror as you fell back into the abyss.

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #fanfic #pjo #luke castellan #x reader #angst #mitski #mitski circle #mitski lyrics

[notbecauseofvictories]

My best friend and I had a call recently---she’s back with her family for a bit helping out with some hometown stuff. As part of the stuff, she’s been going through a (deceased) relative’s scrapbook, compiled in the American Midwest circa 1870-1900 and featuring mostly cut-out figures from the ads of the day.

She talked about how painstaking this relative’s work was. (Apparently the relative was careful to cut out every finger, every cowlick; this was by no means carelessly or hastily assembled.) But she also she talked about how---the baby on the baking soda ad is ugly, it is so ugly, why anyone would clip this heinously ugly illustrated baby and paste it into a scrapbook? Why would you save the (terribly told, boring) ghost story that came with your box of soap?

(Why include these things in the first place? we asked each other. ”There’s a kind of anti-capitalism to it,” she mused.)

And we discussed that for a bit---how most of the images, stories, artists, and ads were local, not national; they’re pulled from [Midwestern state] companies’ advertisements in [Midwestern state] papers, magazines, and products. As a consequence, you’re not looking at Leyendecker or Norman Rockwell illustrations, but Johann Spatz-Smith from down the road, who took a drawing class at college.

(College is the state college, and he came home on weekends and in the summer to help with the farm or earn some money at the plant.)

But it also inspired a really interesting conversation about how---we have access to so much more art, better and more professional art, than any time in history. As my bff said, all you have to do to find a great, technically proficient and lovely representational image of a baby, is to google the right keywords. But for a girl living in rural [Midwestern state] of the late 1800s, it was the baking soda ad, or literal actual babies. There was no in-between, no heading out to the nearby art museum to study oil paintings of mother and child, no studying photographs and film---such new technologies hadn’t diffused to local newspapers and circulars yet, and were far beyond the average person’s means. But cheap, semi-amateur artists? Those were definitely around, scattered between towns and nearby smallish cities.

It was a good conversation, and made me think about a couple things---the weird entitlement that “professional” and expensive art instills in viewers, how it artificially depresses the appetite for messy unprofessional art, including your own; the way that this makes your tastes narrower, less interesting, less open.

By that I mean---maybe the baby isn’t ugly! Maybe you’ve just seen too many photorealistic babies. Maybe you haven’t really stopped to contemplate that your drawing of a baby (however crude, ugly, or limited) is the best drawing of a baby you can make, and the act of drawing that lumpen, ugly baby is more sacred and profoundly human than even looking at a Mary Cassatt painting.

And even if that isn’t the case....there was this girl in [American Midwestern state] for whom it was very, very important that she capture every finger, curl, and bit of shading for that ugly soap ad baby. And some one hundred years later, her great-something-or-other took pains to preserve her work---because how terribly human it is, to seek out all the art we can find that resonates with us, preserve it, adore it.

It might be the most human impulse we have.

#I of course went on a tangent about henry darger because I love darger and he was also pulling/tracing/finding inspiration in local ads #I was also thinking of the scenes in banshees of inisherin where gleeson plays the fiddle in the bar and the woman sings #clearly not professional! nowhere near mozart. #but you know what? those people are making art. they are engaged in the most human thing you can possibly do #my mother once talked about how when she was growing up in the chicago area the irish immigrants would sing and play at parties #and her mother (one generation removed from immigration) would scoff #because who did they think they were! they weren't professionals. they were making a spectacle of themselves. #''and then it died out. no one sings and plays at parties anymore'' she said quietly #celestial emporium of benevolent knowledge

[brujahinaskirt]

Okay, I obviously made the above post as a leetle joke, but since it's getting not insignificant traction, I do want to offer a more serious note.

I love this about Arthur. It's probably my favorite thing about him, but let me use this fresh new RDR2 meta post to clarify exactly what I mean. Despite the aspects of his personality & appearance that are traditionally hypermasculine, and despite how often he is annoyed with people (especially incompetents or people who meddle with his plans), Arthur is decidedly NOT annoyed by the social performance of femininity or by traits that are/were frequently stereotyped as feminine. Ever. Regardless of subject. I might go so far as to say he seems to canonically prefer hanging out with women and with "feminine" men.

Your long-winded, bullet-pointed analysis is below!

The Girls. Most noticeably, Arthur actually sits down to talk with and actively confides in the camp Girls (Tilly, Mary-Beth, Karen) more than anyone else around. These three are the most traditionally "girly" (single, 20s, active, pretty, unattached, highly social, feminine, chatty) members of the gang, though of course they are still criminals and don't perfectly adhere to all period-typical standards of feminine comportment. He doesn't mock the girls** like he sometimes does with other auxiliary members of the gang (like Uncle and Pearson, playful or not). Notably, he doesn't even gently tease Mary-Beth for writing her "silly" romance novels, a highly feminized hobby which she speaks about in a self-depreciating manner, much like Arthur speaks about his own artistic hobbies. Rather, he talks to her about writing like a peer and encourages her to write more by going out of his way to get her a nice pen. Crucially, there is no canon romantic or sexual interest in any of the girls on Arthur's behalf. He just feels the most comfortable in their company and seems to value their advice/opinions on life the most. To me, this is much stronger proof than his forever-burning torch for the cultured & ladylike Mary, which is (or was once) rooted in romantic desire. ** Unless the player persists in Antagonizing them, and these lines (while sometimes shockingly cruel and offhandedly sexual in nature; see Arthur teasing Tilly about pursuing Javier) are largely about goading them for laziness or, in Karen's case, her alcoholism. That said, many of the Antagonize lines strike me as clumsily tacked-on & poorly rooted in canon, which could indicate: (1) an Arthur who is deliberately trying to be disruptive (a generous interpretation), or (2) writers instructed to add throwaway content that will make a certain type of childishly misanthropic gamer (think 13 y.o. boys) squeal in glee with relatively low impact on the overall story.

Campmates. Following the above point... who doesn't Arthur hang out with much? The manly men of the gang; the very people social mores suggest he ought to be hanging out with. Bill, Micah, Joe, Cleet, and even Dutch. (To some extent, this includes John and Sean, but I'd say John sort of lives at the edges of gang life anyway, and Sean is, well, Sean.) Conversely, which male gang members does Arthur hang out with a lot? Sweet little bookish Lenny, a wordy, positive-energy, breezy intellectual who has just barely become an adult. Introspective, soft-voiced, long-haired Charles, who is traditionally masculine by some standards (strong, usually calm, can be standoffish) but decidedly NOT so when his appearance/demeanor is judged by the white Christian American male standards that began to dominate masculinity concepts in the later decades of the 1800s.

Algernon. Oh, my, Algernon. Arthur clearly dislikes Algernon's fancy, loud, outrageous clothing. But weirdly, he seems to like Algernon, not just tolerate him. Arthur in fact goes through significant personal discomfort to avoid hurting Algernon's feelings (the awful hat, the POST.MAN. sobbing), and he immediately says yes to having tea with him without any awareness of a coming business proposition, though half the time Arthur clearly has no fucking clue what Algernon is talking about. I am left to conclude that on some level, he just enjoys hearing Algernon talk, which is word-for-word what he says while listening to the Girls argue about romance novels ("I just like listening to you [all] talk." Hello????). I mean, for God's sake, he meets the man while he's choking to death on a nut at a fancy party, and the second thing Algernon does is tell him he looks like a guy who wears a corset. If anything was going to set off the boiling defensiveness of a dude who worships masculinity, thirty seconds with Algie would have done it.

Margaret, Mistress of Fucking Danger. It's pretty clear Arthur doesn't like Margaret. But that has little to do with Margaret's femininity & cross-dressing (this doesn't faze him at all when Charles Châtenay does it; more on that below) and everything to do with Margaret's deceptiveness and highly selective memory. It's not until the bullshittery unveils itself that Arthur starts getting visibly pissed off at Margaret. Conversely, Arthur does seem more positively disposed toward Sally Nash. (That said, this quest has a lot of problems and poorly aged lines that are depressingly easy for a politically motivated jerkoff to soundbite and miscast as Rockstar being pro-bigot. Cue 800 heterobnoxious gamerbro ARTHUR MORGAN ULTIMATE ANTI SNOWFLAKE SIGMA MALE OF THE WEST YouTube videos.)

Albert, my beloved. Rather than goading him to man up, Arthur tries to persuade Albert (whom he very obviously likes) to pick safer animal photography subjects, e.g. horses, and doesn't insult him for his lack of wilderness knowledge (an aspect of traditional manliness that is highly relevant to Arthur's lifestyle). You'd think he would tear into him for this shortcoming, given that they share so many of the same interests and passions, and IMO his genuine eagerness to serve as Albert's protector and facilitate his art is highly convincing evidence that Arthur does not necessarily view masculinity as a net positive.

Arthur is a basic goddamn boyfriend-hater. He pretty much harshly disapproves of every husband, boyfriend, male partner, etc. in the game and is very, very vocal about it... except one extremely unlikely candidate: Beau Gray. Weak, dandy artist Beau Gray, whom Arthur takes one look at and promptly hands the only gun to Penelope. Arthur is curt and impish to Beau at times, but helps him in his relationship troubles willingly (without collecting repayment), and seemingly for no other reason than the fact he can see that soft, fearful Beau is genuinely head-over-heels in love with Penelope. Is he projecting his own young love for Mary onto them? Maybe/probably, but Beau could not possibly be more different from young Arthur, and Arthur seems to believe this difference will make him a good husband for Penelope. A good husband, in Arthur's view, seems to simply be a man who ardently loves his beloved, regardless of his ability to provide for/protect her, and whose only goal in life is to live that life at her side. This is completely antithetical to mainstream late-1800s views on what constitutes a good husband and what it means to be a man.

Châtenay. Arthur shows us some of the most obvious delight and mirth he experiences in the game when he's hanging out with Charles "Allo Boys" Châtenay, who is straight up in drag a third of that time. This baffles Arthur a little, but doesn't disgust or repel him. I've written about this mission elsewhere at greater length because it is one of my favorite disasters, but it's worth mentioning here too.

Trelawny. Arthur clearly enjoys Trelawny despite his grumbly claims to the contrary. Most of these "claims" are just Arthur's established way of affectionate teasing (he does much the same with Uncle and Pearson, both of whom he genuinely likes). His authentic gripes about Trelawny are all about a perceived flightiness/lack of loyalty to the gang, not about his flamboyance. And even these gripes are half-assed, in Arthur's usual way.

Bluegills & Daisy Chains. One of the most genuine moments of softness we have with Arthur in RDR2 is when he takes Little Jack out of the camp to go fishing. Arthur's usually a much truer version of himself when he doesn't have to play the Big Bad Gang Lieutenant role, but this moment of escape is especially important, and not just because Arthur reveals his fondness for children and his natural understanding of how to talk to them. I notice this: Arthur tries to gently teach Jack about fishing, and Jack is completely fucking uninterested. Jack prefers to make flower chains for his mommy. Arthur doesn't scold him for his drifting attention or his lack of attraction to masculine past-times; on the contrary, Arthur goes out of his way to encourage and protect Jack's natural sweetness and innocence. That's a wild stance for a murdering outlaw to have re: the "next generation" of his family. Hell, I've encountered far too many 21st century dads in my own family who flip their shit when their tiny sons prefer hanging out with women & partaking in "womanly" hobbies like art, cooking, and flowers rather than hunting and fishing.

"...and be a god damn man." This seems like classic masculine bluster on the surface, but what does this keynote line mean in the context in which Arthur says it? Well, it's complicated. This statement serves as (a) Arthur's goodbye to John, (b) Arthur's final call to action for John, and (c) Arthur's last wish for his brother's life. But it certainly does not mean standing and fighting or being tough; i.e., "dying like a man." In that moment, it means abandoning all masculine bluster and revenge fantasy, and running away: leaving violence and fighting and brotherhood and all that crap behind to simply be there (alive, present) for your wife and son.

The Best Women People. Who are the best people Arthur knows, by his own crystal-clear declaration? Abigail and Sadie. Sadie's a rough-and-tumble, super-violent gunslinger and Abigail's a stubborn thief & a former sex worker (in the time Arthur has known her), but they are also, critically, two wives: the most traditional feminine role for a woman of the time period (and indeed perhaps most of human history once the concept of "wife" subsumed that of "mother"). It's also important to note that Arthur doesn't truly give up on Dutch until Dutch abandons Abigail, which serves as Arthur's point of no return. The other men left in the gang at this point specifically note that she's "just a woman" and not worth going back for. Arthur is straight-up shocked by all of this; he obviously considers her among the most worthwhile and value-having members of the gang, and certainly one of the most core members of the gang. Without any hesitation or doubt, the instant it's clear Dutch is cutting Abigail loose, Arthur declares: "That's that, then."

tl;dr: Arthur unironically prefers hanging out with women and queens and I love that for them.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption #i promise to wait an appropriate amount of time before hurling another one of these massive essays at you tumblr #redmeta

[selvyyr]

I loved your work so much I came back imagine a columbia reader genshin impact

Her being angel looking demon overlord but how whoud the overlords react to her she looks so pretty and adorable but she is feard so looks like a cinnamon roll but will kill you.

I love how mysterious she is and her disingn looks so beautiful.

QUITE FUNNY THAT I HAVE COLUMBINA!READER FIC ON MY WATTPAD LMAOO AND OFC!FEEL FREE TO REQUEST!

|MASTERLIST!|

୧ ‧₊˚ ❄💗 ⋅ ☆

MELODY DEMON

↪People don't know if you are fallen angel nor sinner..But you appeared around the 1600-1800 year..

↪You had two tiny pair of wings around your head while one pair of wings on your back..You almost looked like an angel..

↪When you first appeared in hell..You almost killed most of the overlords and made alot of deals with sinners somehow..

↪You always spoke in sweet and caring voice with gentle smile and touch..

↪People called you "the melody demon" because of your gentle and sweet voice singing on night time when overlord dies..

୧ ‧₊˚ ❄💗 ⋅ ☆

Zestial

↪You and zestial are like siblings..You two would often talk about serious topics and such..

↪It isn't suprising if anyone catches you and zestial drinking tea together..

↪You were always listening what he talk about..Zestial one time had asked you if you were fallen angel or sinner.. But you chuckled and poked his nose..

Carmilla

↪Carmilla really like how you always is postive in overlords meetings..

↪You would usually take half of her work without her knowing and finishes it over few hours later..

↪You had tried some of the angelic weapons she sell but it was useless..

↪Her daughters always finds themselves falling asleep whenever you sing to them..

↪Carmilla sees you as sister while her daughters see you as aunt..

Vox

↪Vox tries to get you to join the vee's since you are more powerful than him.. But does not work..

↪He had tried to hypnotize you but you got him falling asleep when you started singing a melody..

↪Vox often spies on you with his screens but everytime you sing a melody as the screen would break and glitch out..

↪He was very annoyed and angry at this point..And he had tried to fight you..Which got him on the floor with few broken glasses on his screen..

Valentino

↪You hate how he treats his employees especially the one called "angel dust"..

↪When he met you.. He tried to touch you in which didn't work since you kicked him away..

↪Whenever he was in the meetings you would sit far away from him..

↪You wanted to kill him so badly but vox had told begged you to not

Velvette

↪velvette is the only vee's you like to hang out with..

↪Velvette finds you very stunning and beauty..So whenever you two hang out.She would often give you some high quality clothes and such.

↪You two match your themes sometimes too..Velvette likes your voice alot..

↪When she was having hard time..You sang her a very calming melody for her to fall asleep..

Rosie

↪Rosie loves you alot.Since you are cannibal like her!

↪It isn't really suprising to see you walking sround the cannibal town

↪Rosie would spill some teas with you and you two giggle about it

↪You would sing songs,melodies in her town which she loves to hear!

Alastor

↪Alastor knew you when he first arrived in hell..You two got similar names!

↪You two would often be talking and taking a walk together

↪You like his radio broadcast which he liked about.

↪You would sing melody,songs in his radio broadcast and get some sinners fall asleep.

EXTRA

LUCIFER

↪When lucifer first met you he thought he was seeing things..But whe he realized he wasn't...

↪His breath hitched in his throat..How were you here..?You are the high throne angel!

↪After some time..He become close to you again..

↪He would often show you some of his latest creations and stuff..You love it alot!

LILITH

↪Lilith likes you alot..You defended her and lucifer when they were getting punished.

↪Lilth and you would often sing songs,melodies together

↪Lilith loves it when you come to her performances

↪She was in heaven with bit of your help ofc..

Charlie

↪charlie sees you as aunt,her parents were happy when she told them about it..

↪You were there when she was child..You played with her and etc..

↪She really likes how you sing..She took some lessons from you!

↪Your gentle and sweet voice would always make her fall asleep..

↪You were very supportive of her idea about redeeming sinners!If you ever come to the hotel she would be happy to welcome you!

୧ ‧₊˚ ❄💗 ⋅ ☆

A/N:HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS!<3HAVE A NICE DAY/ EVENING/NIGHT!<3

୧ ‧₊˚ ❄💗 ⋅ ☆

#fanfic #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #selvyyr answers #Columbina!Reader #overlords #character!reader #genshin impact

[addthespaghetti]

She’s Mine

i’m not even going to lie, i listened to so much pierce the veil while writing this. so the ending is based of off a match into water because i can.

warnings: drinking, sexual reference, angst, fluff, and violence

1800+ words

You love your job. You do. Saving people, working together closely with people you consider family, and most of all, it led you to meet the love of your life, Emily Prentiss.

When you met Emily, it was like your life finally made sense. You worked hard to get into the BAU, ignoring your social life and, most importantly, your love life. You felt like you had no other purpose than getting into the BAU.

You thought you would feel fulfilled, finally getting the job of your dreams. Once you got that call that you got the job, you had the feeling of etterath. You got the job you gave up your entire life for, but now you have no one, no friends, no family, and no one to celebrate your accomplishment with.

The day you started at the BAU, you were excited for the first time in years, but you still couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness.

You felt it the entire time it took you to get ready, aware of it as you drove to the FBI building in Quantico and on the elevator ride up to the BAU.

While opening the big glass doors to enter the bullpen, you heard a woman laugh, a laugh you were immediately captivated by. You looked to find a source of that laughter, and that's when you saw her sitting at her desk, laughing at something someone said. Usually, you would be interested in what she was laughing about, but you couldn't focus on anything but her beautiful smile and gorgeous dark brown hair.

After that day, your crush on Emily grew, but you could never figure out if she had feelings for you back.

Until one girls' night, Penelope wanted to go to a bar that had just opened because she had heard they have good drinks. So you and the girls stayed out late, drinking away the stress from the last case.

You woke up the next morning naked in a strange bed, confused by what you did. You weren't the type of person to have random hookups. When you finally decided to look at the woman's bed you were in, you were shocked to see your coworker, Emily Prentiss. You weren't surprised that you hooked up with Emily. You would have done that if she asked. You were more shocked that she hooked up with you.

Fast forward six months later, and you and Emily have been dating for five months. You could not be happier, and neither could Emily.

Just because you love your job doesn't mean you don't have moments where you hate it. Like right now, you are in Emily's lap, making out with her when your phone rang.

"Fuck!" you groan as you get out of her lap to grab your phone.

Emily, stretching out her arms, trying to pull you back onto her lap, she states in an irritated tone, "Just let it ring. If it is so important, they will call back."

You look at Emily, debating your options. You really wanted to continue to make out with Emily, but you know that is probably Penelope calling about a case.

"Emily, we can't. You and I both know that call is Penelope with a case." You look at Emily with an apologetic look as you pick up the phone.

Emily sighs, "I know, but you look so good right now."

You duck your head, trying to hide your blushing face from Emily as you answer the call from Penelope.

"Yes, Penny?" You speak in a calm tone.

In a very energetic and fast tone, Penelope tells you, "Case we have a very yucky awful case."

"I figured, oh, and Penelope?" You ask.

"Yes, my favorite fruity friend?" She asks in the same energetic tone.

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, "Garcia, how much coffee have you had today?"

"Technically, I only had one," Penelope said while shaking from the caffeine.

You look at Emily with an exasperated look on your face. You weren't trying to get annoyed at Penelope, but her fake math concerned you with how unhealthy it is most of the time.

Emily stood up and grabbed the phone from your hand, "Garcia, we are on our way, and when we get to Quantico, I am taking away your caffeine and switching you to decaf."

"WAIT WHAT, ARE YOU DOING WI-" Garcia yells into the phone before Emily hangs up.

You stand there surprised at what Emily did before she looks at you, "What? You better start getting ready. We don't want to be late." She tells you with a smirk on her face.

"That was hot," you fake cough, "We might be sick and need to stay home from this case." You try to grab your girlfriend, but she walks away to get ready.

You groan and decide to get ready. Grabbing your phone, you connect it to your speaker and start to play music.

You and Emily get ready quickly with only minimal distractions. You couldn't stop teasing each other, but luckily, you learned to get dressed fast during high school.

The car ride to the BAU was filled with lengthy touches and quick kisses. Emily wouldn't let go of your thigh while she was driving. She almost caused an accident because of it.

After getting to the FBI building, you and Emily walked in together, talking about random stuff while riding to the sixth floor.

As soon as you both walk into the round table room, you and your girlfriend are immediately questioned by Hotch, "You late. Where were you?"

You look over at Emily, having no idea what to say. You and Emily decided not to tell the team you were dating yet, but that can cause issues like now.

"We went out last night, and she stayed at my apartment. When we got the call from Penelope, I had to drive her to her apartment so she could grab her go bag and get ready." Emily quickly responded to Hotch.

"That is fine. Just don't let that happen again." Hotch said in his usual serious tone.

You do not know where your girlfriend got her lying skills, but you were lucky she had them because Hotch believed her. You and Emily quickly sat down in a seat to not get reprimanded by Hotch.

After Penelope explained the case, everyone went to the bullpen to grab their things, striking up a casual conversation here and there.

Thirty minutes later, the whole team, minus Penelope, was on their way to the sunny state of Florida.

This case was crazy and took many unexpected turns, but you shouldn't have expected any less from a Florida case. Still, you were surprised when what was supposed to be a routine talk with a witness ended with you getting stabbed. You were also left with a sizable scar on your chest as a result of that.

On the way back to Quantico, the jet was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

You sat in the back of the plane alone, with your headphones in, listening to your favorite songs, trying to stay awake. You haven't been able to sleep without having a nightmare since your attack, and you are worried you will have one on the jet if you fall asleep.

What you don't notice is your girlfriend staring at you from across the jet, worried about how you are coping with your attack.

Rossi moves across from Emily, "You know, just staring at her is not going to magically make her better, kid."

"I know, I just don't know what to do. I wish I could take all of the pain away she is feeling," Emily says, looking at the older man.

"You love her," Rossi says more as a statement than a question.

Before Emily could squeak out a defense, Rossi quickly spoke, "Emily, I'm not going to judge you, but you know she has been through a lot now and in her past. You need to be there for her, be the shoulder for her to cry on. Make sure you remind her how much you love her. You cannot take away her pain, but you can help her cope and learn to grow."

Emily looked over at you before she spoke again, "I will. Thank you, Dave."

"It's no problem, kid. You learn a thing or two after three marriages," He jokes.

Emily grins at his joke while turning to look at you again. This time, you notice her and give her a weak smile. She smiles back at you. She looks at your tired features that highlight your lack of sleep and feels a sense of worry wash over her.

After the jet lands, Hotch lets everyone go home early. Before you could leave, Derek invited everyone out to grab some drinks. You didn't want to say no because everyone said they were coming, and you felt bad being the only one not going.

So now you sit at the bar alone. Drinking when you definitely shouldn't because of the medication you are on. All because Hotch and JJ left early for their kids, Rossi and Spencer left because it was past their bedtime, and everyone else is dancing.

When Emily finally comes to the table and sees you not having a good time, she decides to call a cab and take you home.

It took her a while to get you to her apartment because of how drunk you were, but as soon as she opened the door, you immediately walked to the couch to sleep. Since Emily is an incredible girlfriend, she got you up and dragged you to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

After she washed your face and brushed your teeth because you could barely walk, she went to unbutton your shirt to change your bandages, but you immediately stopped her.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Emily asks, concern in her voice.

The alcohol in your system was making you honest, "I'm ugly. The scar ruined my body," you said with tears rolling down your cheek.

"You are not ugly. You are as gorgeous as ever," Emily reassures you.

"But-" before you can finish your sentence, Emily kisses you to stop your self-deprecating.

Emily breaks apart your kiss and speaks against your lips, "You are the most beautiful person I have ever met, and no scar will ever make me feel different."

"Change my bandages, Emily," you look at Emily with tears and love in your eyes.

Emily unbuttons your shirt slowly and takes it off your shoulders. She slowly peels off your bandages and grabs the supplies to clean the wounded area. After she disinfects the scar, she leans down and kisses the mark.

Emily looks up at you, "Your so beautiful, and I never want to lose you. You are my best friend."

"I love you too," you say with tears rolling down your cheek again.

That night, you fall asleep in Emily's arms without one nightmare in sight.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #paget brewster #criminal minds #self insert #no y/n #angst #fluff

[lebedame-wegelagerin]

And here, as promised to the dear @vinceaddams come a lot of extant Garments from my recent Visit at the German National Museum in Nuremberg. I am trying to give as much Information about each Picture as I can though unfortunately not all of the Pictures were taken by me and I could take Pictures as extensively (including Info Signs) as I would have wanted, lest I be abandoned in the Clothing Section. Also the whole Section was awfully dim, which made it rather difficult to read some of the Signs. The last three Pictures were taken in a different Section, thus the more pleasant Lighting.

Servant Livery, bavarian Court, mid 19th Century (left); Servant of the Count of Cannotreadhisname, first half 19th Century (right)

Woman's Folkdress, Lötschental/Wallis (Switzerland), Museum dates it 1830/1905 which is an awfully broad Range, but maybe it was altered later; shows wonderfully how late 18th Century Styles were preserved in european Folkdress that came to be in the 19th Century proper

Various Men's Garments throughout the 18th Century, as there are Closeups of each, the respective Detailinformation will be provided further down.

Men's Spencer, c. 1810s-1820s, Linen and Cotton, the Sign didn't say it explicitely but due to it's Placement in the Exhibition and comparable other Pieces I have seen, I think this is more of a common Man's Piece of Clothing.

Three Men's Shirts, various Shoebuckles, a cocked Hat, a Periwig and what I assume to be a Hair Bag. This Display Case had a rather badly illuminated Sign, so sadly I have no further Details about the Pieces.

Justeaucorps, c. 1695, Wool, Silk, Metal Trim.

Waistcoat, c. 1695, Silk, according to the Museum it was worn together with the Justeaucorps, which seems to be a nice Colour-Combination.

Breeches, 1790-1800, Silk. Very pretty Pair, but the bad Lighting doesn't really let it show.

Habit à la francaise, c. 1790, Wool, Silk, Embroidery (What a Material Specification...). I really like the Combination of those subtle dark on dark Stripes and the Embroidery.

Tailcoat, c. 1790/1795, Cotton, Silk, Linen, really peak 1790s Look honestly.

Very wide Court Panniers, with Pocket Hoops and Crinoline in the Background. Alas no Detail Information for this and the next two Pictures.

Frontal View of the Pannier. I suppose I have to get one of those at some Point, if only for how extra they are.

Three Pairs of Stays, two from the Front, one from the Back. Sadly I don't feel confident enough to Date those and I have no Pictures showing the Info Signs well enough.

Lots of pretty Dresses that were exhibited in another Section of the Museum. The right one is a Robe à l'Anglaise, but that's all I can tell.

Another beautiful Anglaise, notable for being preserved in its Entirety with original Ruffles.

More pretty Dresses. Unfortunately due to Time Reasons I have no Pictures of the Suits displayed across the Dresses in the U-shaped Display, though I have to say one of them had a very much not authentic Lacebib hanging from the Neck...

That's all the cool Clothing Pics I have, at some Point I will return and take loooots more Pictures from all the Angles too. Also at some Point I might write to the Museum about the Lighting, there surely is a better Solution when having your Objects barely visible with unreadable Signs while still protecting them from UV-Rays.

Bonus-Pic 1:

Me, in historical Dress, c. 1750 (minus the Shoes), standing in a historical Kitchen.

Bonus-Pic 2, for the Boat-Crowd:

Beautifully detailed Modell Sailing Ship, early to mid 17th Century if I remember correctly. Interestingly enough all the little Sailor Figurines on it were very much early 19th Century in Style, so I assume the previous owner had those added at some Point, before the Museum acquired the Model in the late 19th Century. (The Incongruence sadly wasn't addressed on the Info Sign, so I might contact them about this too.)

#Aus dem Leben einer Taugenichts #Extant Garments #Historical Fashion #Germanisches National Museum #18th Century #19th Century #Museum

[anika-ann]

Little Miss Red (R.D.)

Type: blurb, one-shot, drabble (for me it's drabble-length okay)

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x reader          Word count: 1800

Summary: Ransom’s looking for a good time tonight.

When you walk through the door, he knows he’ll get it. And you? Oh you’ll get it too. He's going to make sure of it.

Warnings: NSFW FILTH, 18+, smut!!! I mean it. Filth, y’all. Fingering, oral sex. Written in Ransom’s voice, so language and greyish lizard brain. Hints of degradation, praise kink and innocence kink.

A/N: this is COMPLETELY on @chase-your-dreams-away who claimed she has no time to write it after just throwing the plot bunny out here with @murdock-and-the-sea supporting her.

A/N: divider by amazing @firefly-graphics; the title of the fic does not refer to dd/lg dynamics nor the actual body proportions of the reader

Ransom knew he was going to have fun with you the moment you walked through the door.

A little unsteady on your feet, but deeply embarrassed expression coating your face when you stumbled and swiftly righted yourself; unsure on your high heels, not drunk out of your mind. Little red dress hugging your ass and not much else lower, the hem riding up higher than midthigh as it had probably been intended, your hands quick to remedy it. Cheap make-up which he could spot a mile away, a courtesy of being the child of small-business-loving mother.

You looked so out of place in the luxurious club and so out of your debt that Ransom knew he wanted to play cat and mouse with you.

Except you were definitely a kitten; there was no arguing it later when you nervously tasted the head of his cock, shy kitten licks turning into a small purr around his head when you tried to wrap your lips around him, clearly doing so for the first time.

He knew that was what you were looking for when you came in. He was good at reading people – that was what made him so good at his game. Your sinfully red lipstick spoke for itself and he predicted that the night was going to end up with that colour smeared all over him, with mascara running down your cheeks. He had you blinking up at him with tender wonder and want with just a few sweet words and lured you in into the private saloon with a promise of a good time and being a gentleman.

When his mouth found yours after two minutes of idle meaningless chitchat, you had smiled contentedly into the kiss. Your breath quickened as soon as his tongue pushed between your lips, a silent squeak into his mouth – but leaning into his touch eagerly, heart like a cute little hummingbird – when his hands started wandering to your breasts, so prettily wrapped in the crimson dress. Yes. You might be of limited experience and playing coy, but you came here for one thing and Ransom was happy to give it as long as he got to take from you much more.

You responded to even the faintest touch. When he ran his fingers through your folds over the absurdly thin excuse for an underwear, you were already soaking and fuck, the needy whine that escaped your swollen lips when he circled your puffy nub… it almost made him cum in his damn pants. He was going to eat you up.

If he wasn’t so determined to see your red mouth around him, he’d take your cunt. She was sucking his fingers right in, greedy for more, and yet it was almost as tight as if you were a virgin and was just as sensitive. He’d know; he had taken plenty. He loved stealing their innocence, ruining them for other men. He breathed in the power he gained when he was the first to claim that territory, all warm, wet and so damn snug; having them cry his name as their pain, that delicious pain he both caused and took away, blended into pleasure and pleas for more. Breathy. Needy. Begging so sweet and filthy, obscenities spilling from those good girl lips that had trembled a bit at the size of his cock and yet took it so well.  

You asked for more too, weak voice coming out in gasps as he stuffed the third finger in, the squelch of your juices filling the space and sending blood straight under his belt. By the time you were trapping his fingers in with how hard he made you cum, he was ready to burst the second you’d take him to your throat. It was a thrilling game of control and self-control; and he’d always win.

You were a fast learner. After paying attention to the head, you took him in and sucked experimentally, eyes fluttering shut when he placed his big hand on your nape, encouraging you to take more. And so you did. Fast learner; eager learner. Ransom loved them eager to please him, especially when they were first timers, face all flushed at the mere suggestion of sucking him off at first. Now? Your nose was on his pubic bone, hair ruffled from how he gripped you close for his tip to brush your throat, your pretty cheap make-up running, lipstick all where he needed it.

As a bonus, you clawed your hands on him all over; over his thighs, over his ass, pushing away and pulling closer, your hips bucking forward in search of friction. And fuck if that didn’t get him going; his Little Miss Red enjoyed the hell out of sucking a cock and choking at it, gagging and grabbing at him as if she didn’t feel him deep enough. Who would have thought.

“That’s it, kitten, that’s it, take my load…” he coaxed you and caressed your hair with his free hand, lost to the vibration around him when you hummed in agreement, purring like a little obedient affection-hungry kitten indeed.

“Oh baby, look at you, a good little girl acting like such a whore for a big cock, hm? Fucking love that virgin mouth. Look at the mess you’re making of yourself for me.”

You had. You struggled to swallow and breathe, saliva pooling and escaping your mouth but damn, you were so excited to do better, holding onto his ass, his inner thighs, trying to brush your weepy core against his shin to earn some of that friction you so obviously craved.

Your fingers stroked over his balls and he spilled down your throat with a satisfied groan, fingers in your hair flexing to keep you there and swallow it all as you coughed and sputters, more black streaks painted your pretty face, throat spasming with a choked sound.

You curiously left him in your mouth as he softened, that little experimental lick almost enough for him to get hard again. He pulled you up and walked back to the couch to tug you into his lap, claiming your mouth with his own, tasting his victory in the salty tang on your tongue. What a sweet picture you made; a fucked out mess, eager for more, innocence ruined. He almost took a photo to make the euphoria last longer.

But you got shy again, all wide-eyed, when he pulled out a wipe from his breast pocket, spitting a bit to clean your face up from the worst smudges.

“Told you I’d be a gentleman, didn’t I, kitten? Can’t have you walk around the club like this, everyone would know what you’ve been up to,” he smirked, cock twitching at your meek thank you and the little spark in your eye that told him that you might like that. You might enjoy other people knowing what was in your mouth and now in your belly, wear your ruined cute face like a badge of honour.

Fuck, he could keep you. If he only cared enough for the shit that came with keeping just one girl at his arm. Keeping anyone, really.

Your legs were a little wobbly after he tested you were wet for him again and you buckled into his touch, but he sent you walking out with your purse all alone, satisfied for the night – or at least half of it. Still sprawled on the couch, he tucked himself in and gathered his breath and composure before he returned to the few bearable members of his fraternity fraction. They hit up a club every once in a while, a little hunting trip for pussy. The one who’d score first during the night out paid for the drinks.

Ransom’s smirk widened as he stepped back into the main room. He had no doubt he was the winner tonight; that feeling was damn worth the few hundred bucks he’d pull out of his Valentino-

The smirk slipped from his face when all his palm was the fabric of his empty pocket, his lips parting with mute shock, anger flaring up in an instant.

“Son of bitch-“

His head snapped up, instinctively searching for you; and finding you by the entrance again. You smiled at him sweetly, one corner of your sinfully red lips higher in a smirk as you waved his wallet at him. He froze mid-step.

Blowing him a cheeky kiss, you dropped your timid demeanour like a paper-thin mask, letting it drift towards the floor as slowly as you sunk to your knees for him.

An act. He had fallen for a cheap fucking act. You were no first timer; you were far from shy, apparently.

With bitter clarity, he recalled your hands clawing at his ass when he had thought he had it all under his control, including you, as you struggled to breathe. Your throat spasmed so sweetly, showing him heaven, while he dragged you to hell.

Or he had believed so. Now, watching you disappear behind the door as if you had been nothing but a fever dream, it was easy to see it was the other way around; or maybe you were both going to hell already.

A fist bumped into his shoulder, laughter of his wannabe friends reaching his ears.

“Well, well, well, looks like someone already scored tonight,” Harold howled, cackling as other guys booed and whistled. “Drinks are on Drysdale tonight, y’all!”

Oh Ransom would be drinking tonight, alright. Son of a bitch. That little, little bitch.

“She stole my wallet,” Ransom muttered, barely audible, still hypnotizing the door as if you were to come back. Yeah right.

“Wait what? Dude! You gotta block your credit card and call the cops before she buys a fucking Ferrari at your expense or something! Come on!”

The outrage in his Bryan’s voice snapped Ransom from his stupor, his head slowly turning to the man who spoke the sound advice.

The image of the check Little Miss Red buying a luxury sports car just as red for his money. It should strike him with terror. It should make his blood boil. It should make him want to grab your cute little neck and choke the life out of you.

But his surprise and exasperation gradually blended into the strangest feeling of pride.

You participated in his game of cat and mouse; you were the kitten. You were the cat.

You won fair and square even as both of you played more than dirty.

He could respect that.

“Nah. I’ll let her have it for a bit. It’s kinda like having a sugar baby…” Ransom mused, shrugging it off. “When she least expects it, I’m gonna find her and make her show how sorry she is. …or maybe make her my sugar thing for real. I mean… those lips looked really pretty around my dick after all.”

Mics masterlist

Yeah, the stealing the wallet bit and Ransom kinda respecting the reader for it was the “innocent remark” @chase and @murdock came with and my brain went hggggnnnn, because yeah, he would.

Thank you for reading. I'm gonna go bath in holy water, excuse me.

(the convo that inspired this filth... we know he would)

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale fanfiction #LEMONS #lemony lemons #little miss red #anika ann

[unreadpoppy]

send nudes

Raphael x Fem!Tav (modern AU)

Summary: Raphael is bad at sexting

A/N: This was based on a conversation i had between @flamemittens @sky-kiss and @sassyandsodone

Tav had finally manage to get the phone number of the man she had had a crush on for some time, Raphael. And although he was charming in real life, he text messaged as if he were in the 1800’s. 

Raphael: Tav. 

Come to my house at the eighth hour of the night. Let us enjoy a good merlot. 

Raphael.

Tav: You do know you don’t have to sign your messages, right? I know it’s you.

Raphael: Tav.

Are you coming or not. Answer immediately.

Raphael.

Tav: 🤦‍♀️I’ll be there in a sec. 

In the following months, he had gotten slightly better at not sounding like someone’s grandpa, but there was still room for progress. One time, while she was at work, Tav nearly choked on her coffee when receiving the following message. 

Raphael: Little mouse, bestow upon me that delicious mortal form of yours in pictorial format. 

Tav spent a good five minutes looking at their screen. Was Raphael asking for nudes? Then, another message appeared. 

Raphael: Perhaps if you were to grace me with your naked form, I would deign to reward you with a similar favour, pet.

Somehow, the follow up was even more confusing. She decided to consult with their friends.

Tav: Guys, help me. Raphael sent me some messages that I can’t understand

Lae’zel: I always knew you were stupid, but not understanding messages is a new one

Wyll: You are still talking with that guy?

Astarion: Don’t judge her, dear Wyll. You have had your history with…questionable partners. 

Wyll: 🙄you’re one to talk

Tav: Anyways, he sent me some messages but I’m having a hard time understanding them. Can you guys decipher it? 

Gale: Sure thing, Tav! Send them in and we’ll see what we can do. 

*Tav sent a photo*

Astarion: …

Wyll: …

Gale: …

Karlach: Is he… is he asking for nudes??? 

…

Meanwhile, Raphael’s phone was suddenly taken from his hands. 

“By the hells, what is wrong with you, Raphael?” Haarlep asked exasperated. “Just say send nudes and be done with it.” 

“I cannot be direct about this sort of thing, or else, where is the fun?” He tried to reason. 

Haarlep put a hand on their face and sighed. “You’ll never see tits if you keep talking like this.” They showed the screen to Raphael. “Look! The poor thing hasn’t answered in 10 minutes. I don’t think she even understood what you sent.”

“Tav is perfectly capable of understanding my way of talking.”  Haarlep typed something and then hit send. 

“Done. Let’s see if this works.” 

…

While Tav’s groupchat was becoming a mess over the screenshot she sent of Raphael’s conversation with her, she received another message from him. ‘Speaking of the devil’ she thought. 

Raphael: Send tits for cock. 

Tav immediatly forwarded that to the groupchat.

Tav: Karlach was right. It was nudes. 

Karlach: KNEW IT!

Shadowheart: Why is he suddenly so direct?

Gale: You’re not going to send him nudes, are you? You’re literally at work right now! 

Tav: That’s none of your business, Gale. And idk, Shart. Anyways, gotta go now, byee

Tav made a quick run to the bathroom and sent a picture she already had on her phone. It was a bit old but it would do the job.

*Tav sent a picture* 

Tav: I can’t send one from right now, but I’ll hope you’ll be satisfied with this 

Raphael: My, my, I am quite satisfied. You have a plentiful bosom, little mouse. Very well, here is your reward. 

*Raphael sent a picture*

Tav felt the blood rushing to her face when looking at his messages. She’d only hope she would get home soon. 

Raphael: As much as I would enjoy to continue this lovely conversation, I am afraid I have to leave. 

Tav: We can continue this once I get home.

Raphael: Of course. As you know, roses are red, violets are blue. I'm into poetry, but I'd rather be in you. 

Tav barked out a laugh from inside the bathroom. 

Tav: Oh sweetie, we’re gonna have to work on your sexting once I get there. Till’ later, bye.

Raphael showed his phone to Haarlep. “What is ‘sexting?’”

Haarlep threw themselves on a nearby bed, dramatically putting an arm to cover their face. “You are impossible.” 

#raphael x tav #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael bg3 #tav bg3 #baldur's gate 3

[ginnyluvstimmy]

welcome home (timothée x f.reader)

[ where timothée breaks up and realises you're the only one he actually craves for ]

Hollywood.

It was where you had met.

Between the clapperboard, action! of the director, the hair and make-up sessions which annoyed both of you and the low quality jokes just to kill time.

Luca Guadagnino had personally requested your presence among those pages of the script, and he himself said that he had been admiring your career in the world of Hollywood since time.

You were both Italian, this bonded you and created mutual respect.

The way your Italian accent rolled off your tongue when you spoke to Luca drove Timothée crazy.

Insane.

Maybe the sexiest turn on he could receive.

Just as his delicate, clean, casual French stunned you, you too had figured out how to make him take the bait.

The moments you treasured the most were those behind the scenes. The laughter, his schizophrenic outbursts from the excitement of filming, his unpredictable moves, his pleasant speeches.

The way his curls made him look like a puff, his green/grey eyes where you could get lost in the edges of the foggy jungle, his French cheekbones that mirrored him, in your eyes, like a gentleman from the 1800s, and how his bottom lip was definitely more full and inviting than the one above.

You immediately started hanging out regularly even off camera, without the buzz and movement of filming.

No weeks passed that he confidently proposed to you.

It was no longer a matter of pretending for the production staff, you two weren't in the spotlight and maybe you loved each other even more.

But then came the commitments, the premieres, the collaborations, and suddenly you found yourself with a different plane ticket in your hand every day, and you rarely saw Timothée.

This displeased both of you, especially since he wasn't in a very different situation.

But then the pace slowed down and the world collapsed on you.

Kylie Jenner...

You scrolled through Instagram posts. Kylie.

You read every film article. Kylie.

You checked every interview, questionnaire, news of the day.

Kylie.

Timothée he had left you for her, another.

Without warning, without a reason, without a moment to say goodbye and explain one last time.

You were exhausted, physically and mentally, and the suitcases from your countless business trips were still at the entrance.

Months, months passed...and every time you called your ex-boyfriend he neglected you with 'I'm busy', 'I'll call you back later, ok?', 'it's hard to explain, you wouldn't understand'.

What was there to explain? Did you do something wrong? Did you forget his birthday? The monthly anniversary?

Absolutely not, you weren't the type.

The only relief you felt was listening to the opinions of the fandom and the parazzi: they were much less convinced of this relationship than you already were. It was a sign, it definitely meant something...but every day was torture without his laughter, his cuddles, his French kisses.

It all felt too real.

More months passed, and he didn't show up.

Valentine's Day was approaching and you would have felt a new knot in your stomach gathering in you.

Suddenly, the last person you thought would call, made your cell phone ring.

You picked up, waiting for Timothée to speak first and give you a good explanation.

A very good one, you hoped.

"Hey, Y/n..." His voice cracked and you could tell he was sobbing.

"Listen I...I swear I can explain it all..."

You waited on the other line, you weren't in the mood to answer. If you had done so you would certainly have screamed so loudly that you would have broken his eardrum, throwing that whole situation of the Kardashian in his damn face.

"Can I come to your place...?"

You were about to say a harsh 'no' when you realised he would have shown himself anyway.

You hung up, and the house reverberated with a dull hum.

[ ... ]

He showed at your door with a red rose, red and swollen eyes and his entire figure soaked wet by the heavy rain that was pounding the neighborhood gravel.

You let him in, without saying a word.

He stopped at the carpet in the entrance, as if he suddenly realized that that house was yours and yours alone and he no longer had anything to do with it.

"My manager forced me..." He whispered, but his faint voice died in the air before he could reach you.

"Sorry?"

"I said...my manager forced me. The whole thing of Kylie, it was for...money, you know. I haven't decided on it, my staff has the power. I'm sorry if I didn't warn you, I couldn't...I had to make people believe it was real, you understand me?"

You knew you should have felt immense relief at those words, but they made you even more nervous.

"You're completely out of your mind..."

"But it's true! I'm telling the truth Y/n...she...she never gave me the slightest attention, it was a dirty game, we were both pretending just to live together on the edge of decency! You know I could never leave you from one day to another!!"

You let him stay at the entrance, as if you wanted to see the mat suck him alive.

But Timothée couldn't wait anymore and hugged you tightly, sobbing like a child in the crook of your neck.

His tears ran down your skin, his arms setting a fire in your stomach.

"Je t'aimerai toujours, tu sais..."

"Ti amerò per sempre anch'io, Timothée."

#timothée chalamet #timmy chalamet #timothee chalamet #lovers #timothee x reader #timothée x reader #timothee x you #timothée x you #timothee x y/n #timothee chalamet imagine

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Theoretically ~ P.P.

A/n: And another request!!

Request: “Male reader x Andrew Pete, After a long day of thinking about it and wondering if he and Peter were ready, reader proposes?” By anon

Word Count: 1800+

MASTERLIST

It had started slowly, but Y/n had realized after it had been going on for a while so it had felt sudden and startling.

First there had been the exact moment kisses between them had become casual. They weren't startling and didn't make him jump, heart racing. Peter would be on his way out the door and would say goodbye, leaving a kiss on Y/n's mouth very quickly before dipping. And that felt right. He'd sink into the feeling, his chest warm, but it wasn't buzzing and burning like it used to be.

Then it was the increased PDA. Peter had always been repressed and reserved, hating attention and confrontation unless he had his mask on. But they'd gotten slowly into the habit of having little to no personal space, and being generally touchy. One day, Peter didn't take Y/n's hand just "to show him something" and then drop it when someone looked over. Another day Y/n stared lovingly as long as he wanted and Peter never made a joke about it. After that, Peter lay his head on Y/n's shoulder on the subway and sighed, relaxed. When they kissed, grinning, on the side walk waiting for the light to change for them Y/n knew it was okay to do that more often.

Those were followed by the casual way Peter referred to Y/n as his boyfriend. Even spoke about "his boyfriend." Before he'd said "partner," brushing it away that he was dating someone of the same gender. He wouldn't use Y/n's name even when people knew who he was talking about. And then one day he introduced Y/n as his boyfriend - something he'd heard later from MJ.

The day it clicked was when Peter got caught up in an especially rough back and forth with Doc Oc, who had kidnapped Y/n in an attempt to hurt Peter. It wasn't the first time it had happened, and the panic afterward had been tangible, but Peter didn't implode like he so often had. He was focused on Y/n, tending to him and reassuring him he was safe. And he didn't blame himself or hate on himself or push Y/n away. It was... startling, honestly, when Peter wrapped around him instead and whispered a simple, "I'm sorry this Spider-Man stuff caught up to you."

Y/n ran his hands through his boyfriend's hair, and realized that he was home to Peter, the same way Peter was home to him. That they couldn't have denied each other even if they wanted to. Even if they'd have tried. They both knew it.

And he smiled, realizing that maybe they hadn't said it yet, but this probably meant they were in love after all. And they'd been in love for a while, so much more than a young romance. They'd be together for a very long time.

"I knew what I was getting into, Peter," he reassured softly. "I know we'll always figure it out. Together." He sighed. "Plus, now you know how I feel every day."

Peter nodded. "That's fair."  And that was it. No argument, no anger, no spiral.

The confession of love had followed soon after.

When Y/n got a succulent and Peter started calling it Jimmy, and referring to them as Jimmy's dad, something settled deeply into Y/n's chest. He wanted to do this forever. He wanted to be with Peter for the rest of his life.

That was a terrifying thought.

Peter had been getting better. A little more grounded, and much more experienced. Every day he was softer with himself. Every day he opened up more, and let Y/n help when he could. Every day he smiled more, laughed more. Every day he showed Y/n off more, being proud they were together and being loud about it too. They moved in together, and after that everything was theirs - not individually Peter's or Y/n's. Like they never had to worry about moving out or going separate ways or breaking up. Like this space was theirs and it always would be, even it it was a different space.

It was the teasing look in May's eyes as she grinned at Y/n over the cup of tea she was drinking that was the last straw. She put her cup down and in a gentle voice, began, "You want to ask me something?"

Y/n blushed. "You saw through me then."

May raised an eyebrow, her smile teasing. "In the years you've been with Peter, your worst fear as been time and again proved to be imposing on me. You only ever come by when I invite you, with Peter, or explicitly to help with something. I've never seen you ask to come over completely unprompted with nothing else in mind but spending time together." She leans back in her chair. "Not that I'm complaining."

Rubbing the back of his neck, he got sheepish. "I'm sorry May. I don't mean to be around so little."

She waves her hand back and forth, and if to scatter the words in the air. "Don't he silly. I don't take it personally. You should come over more often though." She took another sip of her drink. "But that's not what you're here to talk about."

Y/n swallows hard, interlacing his fingers so he can hold onto something as he begins. "You know Peter so well," he began. May nodded; Y/n had come to her asking advice several times now. "I was thinking... maybe..." He cleared his throat, nervous. Once he said this to May it was in stone. Was he ready? Was Peter? "Do you think Peter is the marriage type?"

May froze, eyes wide. Y/n went solid and still as stone, only breathing again when May's shock flipped to glee. "You're thinking of proposing."

Okay. This was a good sign. "I was thinking about it," Y/n said slowly. "But I don't know if Peter would... want to. Or if it's too soon. Or if there's too much going on already with the whole Spider-Man thing." He shrugged, running his hand through his hair.

May nodded again, mulling Y/n's concern over. Every day Y/n thanked god she actually considered things rather than just jumping to "I want to see my boy married" like some aunts had before. It was a relief to know he could trust what she would say next.

"Have you talked to him about it?"

And sometimes Y/n wished she wasn't quite so good at what she did.

"Well-"

May cocked an eyebrow, her expression turning into something akin to 'you know what I'm going to say.' And it was true. Y/n did. He let her say it anyway. "I can't speak for my nephew, Y/n."

"I know," he sighed. "But I don't want to go in blind or jump the gun or scare him away-"

May chuckled. "That boy has seen more than I could even imagine." She paused for a second. "Normal things do scare him more than any villain in a suit could. But he's better about it than he used to be. And if you eased him into it, or took your shot, and we're ready for some possible rejection and not take it personally, it could be fine."

And there it was. The real reason Y/n was stressed. Because sure, Peter might not be ready, but if he wasn't and he ran and Y/n was crushed it could lead to the end of their relationship. They could both react very poorly...

This would mean Y/n would have to do it somewhere privately. It would have to be very low pressure, open minded. Understanding. Gentle. And it was a little heartbreaking that was the case. Y/n wanted to be a little loud, a little dramatic. And he would have to let that go.

May reached over, taking Y/n's hand. "It also doesn't have to be now. It should be when you're ready. The moment will come, and you'll know. You should only do it then." Her gaze was so soft and patient that Y/n could only absorb what she was saying directly into his soul. "Don't try to make a perfect moment. Let one come."

That advice stayed with Y/n until the moment came. He thought it had a few times but then it wouldn't quite pan out, or something would interrupt them or they'd need to stopper what they were doing and table it for later - when they moment was gone. But one day they were laying in bed, out of breath and grinning after Peter had stolen Y/n’s favorite jacket and Y/n had tried to take it back by force. Peter was much stronger than Y/n of course, and had plenty abilities to overwhelm him, but decided to play fair and shenanigans had turned into raucous laughter that had stolen both of their breath away.

Y/n looked at Peter and something warm and sweet touch him. May’s words came back to him full force in that moment and he was stunned to realize-

This was the moment.

“Will you marry me?” Peter turned, eyes wide, and immediately Y/n panicked. “Maybe not know. We don’t have to say now. But maybe one day.” His voice got dry when suddenly Peter took him by the face, kissing him.

The kiss was king and deep and passionate. Y/n felt something wet ion his cheek and realized Peter was crying.

When it ended, Peter pressed their foreheads together. “You’ve been so patient with me. I know you have. I know I’m not… easy. But I’m yours, and that was always enough for you.” He chuckled, seeming near giddy. Y/n felt his throat close with how much hope swelled in his chest. “I would love to maybe you. We can figure exactly when and how. Is that okay? If we don’t know exactly when?”

Y/n melted, raising a hand to run over Peter’s jaw. “I would marry you anywhere, any day, in any way that we could muster. Even if no one was there. Even if no one knew.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “You cheese ball.”

“Your cheese ball.” Y/n beamed. “For the rest of our lives?” It was timid, hopeful.

Peter sighed. “For the rest of our lives.”

Neither would ask more than that.

-

Male Readers: @ravenpuff-oli @sortzz @fadedver

#male reader #Spiderman #Andrew Garfield #Peter 3 #Peter Parker #peter 3 x reader #Peter 3 imagine #tasm #Peter 3 x male reader #the amazing Spider-Man #the amazing spider man x reader #the amazing spider man x male reader #the amazing spider man imagine #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagines #Spiderman x reader #Spiderman x male reader #Spiderman imagine #andrew garfield x male reader #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield imagine

[burningvelvet]

Powerful women from the classical world + excerpt of a letter from Lord Byron to Thomas Moore describing his lover Margarita Cogni (Venice, September 19th, 1818):

“I wish you a good night, with a Venetian benediction, ‘Benedetto te, e la terra che ti fara!’ — ‘May you be blessed, and the earth which you will make!’ — is it not pretty? You would think it still prettier if you had heard it, as I did two hours ago, from the lips of a Venetian girl, with large black eyes, a face like Faustina’s, and the figure of a Juno — tall and energetic as a Pythoness, with eyes flashing, and her dark hair streaming in the moonlight — one of those women who may be made any thing. I am sure if I put a poniard into the hand of this one, she would plunge it where I told her, — and into me, if I offended her. I like this kind of animal, and am sure that I should have preferred Medea to any woman that ever breathed.”

The mythical and historical allusions:

In Roman myth, Juno was Queen of the Gods as well as a military figure often depicted armed. In Greek myth, Medea was a sorceress who gets revenge against her unfaithful husband through murdering their children and his lover. Although “Pythoness” could refer to demonic witches in other uses, Byron is using it here as another name for Pythia or the Oracle of Delphi, a divine priestess and the most powerful female office in the ancient world.

Faustina is either a reference to the Younger or the Elder. Faustina the Younger was the wife of Marcus Aurelius; he revered her so much that he gave her enormous power, although later historians (probably falsely) accused her of being a murderer and adulteress. Faustina the Elder was the adoptive mother of Marcus Aurelius and was one of the most beloved Roman women in history, whose coinage often features Juno.

Byron's life and writing in context:

When he was living abroad in self-exile, Byron often sought to entertain his friends back home by sharing his adventures in lurid detail. His vivid letters became well-read throughout the 1800s, and are considered some of his best writing. Travel writing and adventure stories were extremely popular in the 19th century, and even most of Byron’s fiction champions these themes. Living abroad and traveling became marketable parts of Byron's celebrity. He blended his own experiences into his work, and chief among these were his romantic experiences.

Shelley once compared Byron to the Greek myth of Circe when writing in a letter about Byron's excessive amount of pets. Circe was known for seducing men and turning them into animals who roamed around her palace. Like a witch or an alchemist, Byron frequently transformed his lovers into characters through his writing. Like countless others, Margarita Cogni was mythically immortalized through the writer's description of her. She and Byron's other Venetian lovers have become part of the wider Romantic era mythology tradition, like the constantly retold tales of Mary Shelley's invention of Frankenstein, Percy Shelley's drowning, and John Keats' love for Fanny Brawne.

By using references to classical women in this letter Byron is not only paying tribute to mythology, history, and the Italian landscape in a way that his foreign audience would find tantalizing, but he is also exploring romanticized notions of classical female beauty which are at turns conventional and unconventional. He channels the gothic sublime through the otherworldly power and danger these women all represent, as well as channeling more traditional concepts of feminine strength rooted in modesty, beauty, and passivity. Byron creates poetic contradictions.

Just as he famously describes himself as “changeable, being everything by turns and nothing long,” he utilizes paradox and inconstance in his writing, such as in this satirical formulation of Margarita Cogni as the ideal lover who is both Goddess and woman, mistress and slave, contemporary and classical, masculine and feminine, wife and adulteress, murderess and murdered.

One can clearly see how this is the same chameolonic, binary-blurring poet who would go on to write the gender-bending themes of Don Juan — “If people contradict themselves, can I / Help contradicting them, and every body, / Even my veracious self?” — and who years beforehand had written She Walks in Beauty — where “all that’s best of dark and bright / Meet in her aspect and her eyes.”

#literature #english literature #lord byron #romanticism #poetry #dark academia #aesthetic #history #mythology #analysis #my analysis #my writing #my essays #byron #poems #letters #women #art #myth #greek #roman #british #english #academia #the romantics #love #romance

[emberstoriesandtales]

A Promise (Stalker!Carlo x G/N!Reader x Stalker!Romeo) Pt. 2

Pt. 1

Here is part 2 of A Promise, this is the reader's perspective where they are sent back to when the puppet frenzy happen, this is an au where Romeo doesn't control the puppets since he is a Stalker and never became the puppet king.

Summary: After finding a locket that seems so familiar in Venigni's factory, the reader finds themselves back in time to when the puppet frenzy was going on, and they meets two men who claims to know them.

◇◇◇

"Man this place is incredible!" Y/N muttered in awe as they looked at the sign on the front of Venigni Works.

Back in the 1800s, this place made pretty much all of the technology that the city of Krat had which made the entire city famous back then for being way ahead of it's time.

And after the puppet frenzy that caused chaos for the whole city, so many slaughtered by puppets or the petrification disease, eventually it ended by some stalkers and many years later, the city was rebuilt and made into a whole tourist attraction with museums at the factory, the grand expedition which was already a museum as was, even hotel Krat was partially a museum, but still was a hotel.

They were on a trip abroad with some of their classmates for college, and when they heard where the department they were in was going for the trip, they instantly signed up.

They had heard stories about Krat and read books about the city and found it all fascinating.

On the first day, they all went to see City Hall and Krat Central Station, then the next day was the Malum District.

They had already seen Rosa Isabelle street yesterday, and today they were going to go to the Grand Exhibition with their classmates, but when they heard about Venigni Works, they decided to stop by there before meeting up with their classmates at the Exhibition.

To not take so long, Y/N just looked around the front area of the factory, which already had quite a bit of things on display.

Displays of the trams that were around the city, displays of some of the puppets that were manufactured there.

They found everything so interesting.

Eventually they made their way back to the entrance, where they looked at some more puppets that were made.

One that caught their eye was an older looking puppet.

He was dressed in a stripped red jacket and black stripped pants, and he held a white towel with one arm.

A butler puppet?

As they read a plaque about the butler puppet, learning that his name was Pulcinella, the sound of their phone ringing startled them.

Pulling their phone out, they saw they were getting a call from their friend.

"Oh shit." They muttered as they answered the call.

"Y/N, where are you? You might want to head over to the Exhibition before it gets late."

"Yeah, I'm on my way, just lost track of time. I'll be there soon, I promise."

"You better, your missing out on some cool stuff over here."

Y/N chuckle a bit.

"Got it, see you soon."

Y/N then hung up the call and slipped their phone into their pocket as they started making their way back towards the entrance.

But as they walked down the hallway leading to the front of the factory, a single door caught their eye.

It was a bit larger than all the other normal doors, and it had an elegant V on it as well as swirly designs in the middle.

"An office maybe?"

Looking around to see if anyone was around since they didn't know if it was off-limits.

They didn't know why, but it felt like something was drawing them towards the door.

Grabbing the doorknob, they were honestly surprised that the door was unlocked.

Opening the door, they were met with a tidy office.

There were models of trams, of the factory, even the grand expedition building.

But what caught their attention was a portrait hanging on the wall behind the desk.

It was of Lorenzini Venigni himself.

And in his arms was a child.

They seemed to be pretty young, perhaps about three years old if they had to guess, and the child had h/c hair and e/c eyes.

"I don't remember Venigni being married, maybe he adopted them?" They mumbled as they didn't remember reading anything about Venigni being married or having kids.

Y/N did notice that the child looked like them if they were a kid again, but it could have just been a coincidence, so they brushed it off.

"Must have kept it to himself that he had a kid."

Looking away from the portrait, they continued to look around the office, looking at the models, but as they looked at the Venigni Works factory model, they noticed a button hidden underneath the sign.

Curious, Y/N pushed it.

At first nothing happened, but a second later, they heard a small click coming from behind them.

Looking back, they saw the portrait was now swung open a little, revealing a small shelf with a journal and a small box.

Picking up the journal, Y/N opened it up to a random page and began reading.

It has been a year since the Petrification Disease got to the Monad Charity House in Rosa Isabelle street. Fortunately, Romeo and Carlo, who I see as my own sons, made it out alive and thankfully not affected by the disease, but when I heard news of my child had gone missing, a part of my world has shattered. Everyone assumed they died to the disease, but I know they aren't dead. I know Y/N is still out there somewhere, and that they are still alive. I have lost my parents when i was a child, I'm not going to lose anymore of my family.

"So this is why nothing is known on Venigni's child, poor kid. I wonder what happened to them." They them closed the journal and then picked up the small box.

It was light, but there was something inside that had a little bit of weight to it.

Gently lifting the lid up, their eyes widened when they saw a silver locket with a blue gem in the center of it.

"This thing must've been very important if he had it hidden away."

Gently pressing a finger onto the blue gem, a flash of a bright blue light, blinding the college student for a moment before it faded away, leaving the office dark.

"Alright, putting it away so that doesn't happen again." they muttered as they placed the lid back on the box.

But that's when they noticed that the office was now trashed instead of how tidy it was just a moment ago.

And the portrait was now gone.

"What the..." they started but was cut off by loud screeching coming from outside.

What was going on?

Placing the box into their coat pocket, Y/N approached the door and opened it to see the whole area completely wrecked.

Remembering where the front of the factory was, Y/N ran down the hall back to the front, which was now empty compared to earlier when they arrived at the factory.

When they got to where the gate was, they were shocked to see the gate to the factory now blocked.

"How am I suppose to get out?!" They exclaimed, starting to panic.

Looking around, they saw the ladders of a scaffolding that wasn't there before, leading up to the roof of the building.

Maybe there was a way down from there.

Putting their backpack that they had on fully to make sure it didn't fall off their shoulders, Y/N hurriedly climbed up each ladder.

But when they got to the roof, they froze at the sight they were met with.

The whole city from what they could see was abandoned.

Buildings wrecked, and so many puppets around on the streets, many holding weapons.

'No way, I can't be back to when the puppet frenzy happened, that's impossible! I have to be having a nightmare.' They thought as they slowly made their way down the stairs to the ground.

They had to get to the hotel.

Knowing they had to run past all the puppets on the bridge, they took a shakey breath before sprinting right past them all, causing them to screech as they began to throw things at them and chase after them.

They managed to get across the bridge but they weren't able to get any further as the puppets blocked the only way to the hotel that they knew of.

So they went to the left path which was the only open path for them to go.

Sprinting down the small street, past a telephone and went right, but they were met to a locked gate.

"Are you kidding me?"

They looked around to see if there was any place at all to hide, but that's when a pair of arms wrapped around their waist and whoever it was pulled them inside a building.

"Hey, let go of me!" They exclaimed as they tried to pry the person's arms off of them.

Whoever it was froze for a moment before turning them around, and they were face to face with a man wearing a crow mask while there was another man who was wearing a white fox mask.

"Y/N?"

The man with the fox mask asked as they stepped towards Y/N, his hand reaching out to their face, causing them to flinch away.

"Who are you people? Where am I?" They asked as the other man, who was holding them, finally released them.

"What do you mean? Y/N, it's us." The man in the fox mask said, a hint of frustration as well as desperation in his voice.

Y/N gave him a deadpan look.

"Seriously?" They asked annoyed.

The man in the crow mask looked to the other and realized what they meant.

"Oh, our masks Carlo."

The two then pulled their masks off, revealing their faces.

The one who was wearing the crow mask, had shoulder length sandy blonde hair that was pulled back in a ribbon.

He had hazel eyes and slightly tanned skin.

The other man who was wearing the fox mask, he had dark brown hair that went a bit past his ears, and amber colored eyes.

He had paler skin than the other man.

Y/N's eyebrows furrowed, deep in thought.

They looked so familiar, but they didn't remember from where, and they were sure they never met them until now.

Carlo...

They had also heard that name before.

"Y/N, it's us, Romeo and Carlo, don't you remember? We met when you and your father visited the Monad Charity House, the locket that we bought for you? We've been friends for years!" The blonde man, Romeo, desperately said, trying to get them to remember something.

But the word locket caught their attention.

"Wait, locket?"

They slipped their hand in their pocket and pulled out the box with the locket that they found at Venigni's factory.

They never had the chance to open the locket itself since they were being chased.

To be honest, they completely forgot about it until Romeo mentioned it.

Taking the locket out of the box, they opened it and felt chills all over their body when they saw what was inside.

There was a photo inside, it was the two men, but they seemed to be a few years younger in the photo.

They were wearing the monad charity house uniforms from what they could remember from when they went to Rosa Isabelle Street, and between them was someone who looked exactly like them, but they were wearing something that was from around the late 1900s to early 2000s.

So the child in the portrait back at the factory.

Was that child really them?

'No way...' They thought as their heart pounded in their chest and they began to hyperventilate.

They were not from this time.

They couldn't be.

Y/N's head began to throb in pain, causing them to drop the locket as they held their head.

Their eyes squeezed shut from the pain.

"Y/N?"

When they felt a hand land on their shoulder, that's when everything went dark.

◇◇◇

I hope you all liked part 2, sorry if I made any mistakes in it, I tried my best while trying to get homework done for my college classes. And I will be doing part 3 as soon as I can!

Taglist: @justmare @mahirublue

#lies of p #lies of p x reader #lies of p carlo #lies of p romeo #lies of p carlo x reader #lies of p romeo x reader #lies of p carlo x reader x romeo

[dresshistorynerd]

Hello hello! I have gotten myself into an American Civil War era ball in November and I was wondering if you had any input on formal dress from the era! I've never done reenactment before but I would love some input on what I should wear!

That sounds very cool! I hope you'll have great time there when it eventually comes! :D

I'll go through all the garments and accessories that would have been used at the time, but obviously limitations of reality might get in the way of some parts. I'll give my opinion on what I think is more and less necessary to embody the era, but I've never done reenactment either so I can't really say for sure what is the expected level of historical accuracy, maybe someone with some experience of reenactment can chime in. But you'll be the best judge on what you can realistically get/make. Think of this as background info.

So the years we are looking at are 1861-65. I'll start from underlayers towards outer layers.

Shift and drawers

By 1860s drawers were used by most women with their shifts. The shift had wide neckline, small sleeves and often a bit of lace trimming. The sleeves could be wide like in the examples, but less often they might be small poofs. It was roughly knee length and still quite often made from white linen, but white cotton too.

Linen shift from mid 1800s US, and a linen shift from 1861-65.

The drawers were very simple in design. They most often split crotch seam, meaning the crotch seam wasn't sewn closed and the waistband was the only thing holding the pieces together. This made it easier to use the bathroom. They reached around mid-calf, sometimes just over the knees, but ankle length was too long. 1860s drawers were very full and usually had simple lace and/or frills at the hem. They were also made from either linen or cotton at the time.

The first example is from 1863 Peterson's Magazine, where pattern for joined drawers are marketed as new, but it's still very much patterned in a way where the drawers don't need to be taken down when using bathroom. It would be still pretty rare. Then drawers from 1860s US.

I would say basically any shift with short sleeves and wide enough neckline works here or really in place of that even almost any similarly shaped under dress, but it's very crucial to have something under the corset. If a shift isn't easily available, the replacing dress should be thin so it's not super hot, loose so it doesn't need closures that might cause chafes under the corset and preferably linen or at least cotton, so it's not sweaty and feels comfortable. Linen is really the superior undergarment material as it's anti-bacterial, very breathable and easy to wash, cotton was only contending with it for very Victorian reasons. The drawers are not necessary, not everyone used them at the time. If you don't feel comfortable not wearing any underpants (which was the other option at the time), I do recommend them since using a bathroom with the crinoline and underpants you have to take down is pretty hard.

Corset

1860s corset was fairly short compared to earlier and later corsets, and usually wouldn't reach very far on the hips. It wasn't necessary as the waistline was just above the natural waistline and the skirt was very wide so the shape of the hips would be completely covered. The corset used in formal settings like balls was usually heavily boned but for the same reasons as why the corset itself was relatively short, the bones didn't necessarily reach beyond the waistline. For these reasons even the heavily boned corsets left very large range of movement for the torso. As it was typical for the whole Victorian era, the corset was closed at the front with a busk and had lacing in the back.

The boning was usually just whalebone, metal often only used in the busk. The fabric was reinforced with most often with cotton twill or canvas. Especially in case of these fancier corsets used with evening gowns, the corset often had a silk fashion fabric, which could be white like other undergarments or colorful.

Silk corset from 1864 Britain/France, and cotton wedding corset from 1865-67 US.

Corset really is very necessary to pull of the ball gown of this era. Not just because it's very crucial in getting the silhouette, but also because it makes it easier to wear the large skirt as the corset distributes it's weight across the torso and supports the torso too. I do think any Victorian corset works here well enough as they are roughly similarly shaped. Because the crinoline is very light, the skirt is lighter than it looks, so even other less structured supportive garments that give even somewhat similar shape could work if Victorian corsets are not an option, like Regency stays or Edwardian corsets or even some modern corset. From what I've heard about reenactment events, I would prioritize having corset (or similar) that fits you and you know you can wear for a long period of time over historical accuracy and the right silhouette. (Corset often needs to be broken in like leather shoes, because the whalebones will shape into the body.)

Crinoline

Crinoline is a crucial part of the underlayers to achieve the silhouette of this era. The silhouette went through some changes even in the first half of 1860s. It started as quite similar to late 1850s silhouette of very large and round, though already in 1861, the volume was more focused in the back. In the following years the skirt would become less round, but wider and the volume would increasingly lean to the back. The skirt would reach it's widest point with massively long back, almost like a very wide bustle, in 1865.

Crinoline from 1860-62 Spain, and another from 1865. You can see the progression quite well between these two.

Here's also all of these foundational layers shown all at once, though I think the crinoline is from between 1866-68, since it's so narrow around the hips (the silhouette collapsed very quickly from the critical mass of 1865 to a much more narrow A-lined silhouette).

As said, this is really necessary to pull of the skirt of early half of 1860s. You really can't get the shape right without it. Especially for the earlier silhouette of the decade 1850s crinoline works perfectly fine and even the later 1860s crinoline like above. Even modern or 1950s hoop skirts can be serviceable here, but if the skirt is cut like in the mid 1860s, it definitely does need the elliptical crinoline that are very specific for those couple of years, as you'll see in the examples of the next section.

Petticoat

Petticoat's purpose in this era was mainly to smooth out the crinoline. It was therefore voluminous and usually made out of fairly stiff fabric, usually a bit heavier linen or cotton. There was often horizontal pleats around the hem, which would reinforce the shape. Couple of layers could be used too to properly cover the crinoline. It was pretty plain, usually white, but not necessarily, maybe with a bit of lace at the hem. Especially in early 1860s the petticoat was usually gathered with cartrigde pleats, which give a very round and voluminous shape. Around the mid 1860s, the pleating would be mostly focused in back to enhance the long shape.

Cotton petticoat from 1855-65 US, and linen petticoat from 1860-65 US. The first is very likely late 1855 or very early 1860s as it's so very round. The second is definitely closer to 1865, it shows very well how much more volume was at the back, as the hem there is much longer.

This is not strictly necessary, but it's very obvious when a crinoline doesn't have a petticoat on top of it, especially if the skirt is made out of some thinner fabric. It can be very simple, it just needs to be big enough. Basically any similar sized skirt or petticoat works fine in it's place.

Corset cover

Corset cover or camisole, as the name suggests, had similar purpose as petticoat, to smooth out the hard line of the corset. It was a small shirt, with similar neckline and sleeves as shift at the time. It was like other undergarments almost always white, often made out of cotton, but linen too.

Cotton corset cover from 1860 US, and another from 1864-68 US.

It's not super necessary imo, but it does give a smoother finish. It could be pretty easily replaced by a corset cover from different era, that's close enough in design (so it won't be showing under the bodice), if something like that is more easily available.. Any shirt really that's similarly loose-ish, so that it doesn't create too much bulk, but also doesn't get pinned tense by the bodice, would work I think.

Ball gown

Now we finally get to the meat of it. Ball gowns of the early half of 1860s had very tiny sleeves, that hung just over the shoulder. They were usually tiny poofs or could be tiny frills too. As mentioned earlier, the bodice was short and ended abruptly at the waistline, which was slightly above the natural waist, to emphasize the mass of the skirt. A typical waistline exaggerated pointed end.

The skirt was not as elaborately layered like a cake as in late 1850s, but typically it had a bit of layering at the hem, where the layers were displayed by different types of gathering. An organza layer on top was very popular. A bit of trimming at the hems of the layers of the skirt was common, but the amount of trimmings was pretty restrained (especially when compared to the next couple of decades).

The colors of evening wear were usually light. I've noticed white, light pink, light blue, mint and lavender crop up most often. It was though very trendy to have a dark or a bright jewel accent color combined with the soft dominant color. The new synthetic dyes were able to create cheep bright colors unlike before and people were very into them. The most popular colors, that were also used a lot as accent colors in evening wear were bright purple, magenta, electric blue and emerald green. The evening gowns tended to be solid color and mostly one color too, except for the accents. Typical decorative motifs were fabric flowers, bows, lace trimming and fringes. For evening wear the fabric was most often silk as taffeta or satin and possibly organza in addition.

Here's some select fashion plates with ball gowns I really like. The firs is from 1863 and the other two are from 1865.

The first two include my personal favorite trend from this period, which is corselette/Swiss waist/Medici waist. It was a small decorative usually underbust waistwear, sometimes with shoulder straps, sometimes without. It was part of the Gothic Revival fashion and was alluding to Renaissance bodices and stays. They really have nothing to do with Medieval or Renaissance fashion, but Victorians associated the use of waistwear and stays as outer wear with vague idea of The Gothic for quite complicated reasons (I talk about that in this post at length). They were lightly boned, but just to keep up the shape, they were not in any way supportive, just decorative. The blue dress in the first example above has a Medici waist (the trend was loosely inspired by Catherine de Medici's portraits), which has the distinctive upward pointed neckline combined with shoulder straps, and the white dress in the second example has either Swiss waist or corselette. The terms were used quite interchangeably, even the Medici waist's definition is pretty loose (I usually just default to corselette). Below there's couple of more example of these. First is silk corselette from 1863-67 US and second is silk corselette from 1864-68 US. The third is a dress with another silk coselette supposedly from 1855 US. I think the bodice is too short for 1855 and the skirt very distinctly mid 1860s, with the volume in the back, so I won't believe MET on this. Interestingly the dress is made out of piña fabric, which is traditional fabric made out of pineapple plant fiber and was a luxury fabric among Western upper crust in 18th and 19th centuries for colonialist reasons.

Okay, I'm done with the corselette propaganda. I have a pinterest board of primary images with a section for 1860-65 for additional inspiration, but I haven't organized it yet, so there might be some misplaced images.

Accessories

These are not that necessary, but a bit of extra detail to sell the look.

Hair was kept in elaborate low buns, which could be decorated with fabric flowers and ribbons for the evening. Necklaces were pretty short and usually fairly simple. This was the time, when the iconic black silk ribbon collar became a thing. In 1860s it usually had some small (or bigger as in this royal example) pendant on it.

Gloves were strictly necessary. For evening they were always white kid (a type of thin leather) gloves, which just covered the wrists. Silk gloves were thought of as tacky. The gloves were very simple in style but bracelets were often used with them.

Above knee stockings were always used. Usually they would be white, but they did come in all kinds of colors and small patters on the ankle were common. They would be knitted silk for the evening. Here's some silk stockings in very fun colors and patterns from 1860s England. They were secured with with a wide silk ribbon tied below or above knee. I use stockings and ribbon to secure it for everyday purposes, and it works really well. The thing is to have wide enough ribbon you can circle around the leg couple of times, so it won't put too much pressure on one spot. For me below knee works the best. Really any thin knee high stockings works for this, and white is the safest bet.

There's some options with the shoes. Both boots and slippers were acceptable for evening wear and slippers could have a heel or not. The evening shoes were less practical and fancier that your day shoes. They usually had silk as the fashion fabric, which wasn't that much of an issue, since they were used indoors.

Silk evening boots from 1860s France, silk slippers with a heel from 1855-65, and silk slippers from 1862 Austria.

Honestly, shoes won't be really seen under the skirt, so I don't think it's very necessary to get new shoes (there are shoe sellers like American Duchess who do historical reproduction so it's possible). Basically any ballerina slippers with a somewhat flat or at least round end are pretty close. Also any shoes roughly between 1830-1880 are basically accurate (minus some details) as the shoe fashion changed pretty slowly.

I hope this was helpful for at least providing some background info!

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