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hjbender · 5 years

Note

Imagine a story line where Loki was married to Thor's older brother. Thor swallows his feelings for his brother's husband, Loki. That is until his brother is off at war and he discovers Loki sobbing in a corner about how lonely he is since no one will talk to a first giant. So Thor decides to befriend the forehead bride and may or may not have his feelings rekindle for Loki the same time Loki realizes he had feelings for Thor.

Within an hour of reading this stellar ask, this idea turned into a full-blown 150k slow burn novel written by Jane Austen, if Jane Austen also wrote Norse myths. (In other words, EXCELLENT.) It played out in my head like an Asgardian version of Pride and Prejudice. Let me try to summarize it in 3900 words:

Tagged: arranged marriage, drama, sexual content, marriage problems (no adultery), angst, miscarriage, character death (not Thor or Loki), accidental love, marriage proposals, happy-ish ending (maybe?), just read it

Baldur is the eldest son of Odin, heir to the throne of Asgard. He is handsome and well-mannered and will someday inherit tremendous power and status, and that makes him the most desirable man in the Nine Realms.

His brother Thor, on the other hand, is a bit rough in terms of both appearance and manners. He prefers to spend his time alone or with his small group of close friends, traveling the realms, fighting brigands, settling disputes, learning new skills from dwarves and elves and humans, appreciating nature, lending his might to the defenseless when they need it. He is a comfortable loner, he detests politics and formalities, and he hates being cooped up in the palace. He dresses more like a commoner than royalty. He is tall and well-built, unbelievably strong, and more than a little intimidating.

His father is always urging him to be more like his older brother. “Show some interest in reality, boy! You can’t roam the wilderness for the rest of your life! Get married and settle down. Find your place in the court, raise a family. Be a proper prince, for Valhalla’s sakes!”

But Thor adamantly states that he is content in his bachelorhood and intends to stay that way. He is a warrior and a wanderer, like Odin himself once was. Not a soft-hearted fool with romantic dreams in his head and a desire to be domesticated. He is too wild, too in love with his freedom. He will never marry.

Then, in the interest of politics (and adding some new blood to the royal family), Baldur becomes betrothed to the youngest of King Laufey’s children, a lovely little jötunn named Loki. Loki’s people are Frost Giants of the realm of Jötunheim, and normally a marriage between their two kingdoms would never happen due to the size difference between jötnar and Æsir. However, the last baby Laufey bore happened to be quite small, making him a perfect candidate for marriage with one of the non-giant races. Thus Loki was groomed from birth to be a royal spouse. Given the biological flexibility of the jötnar, he could provide his future husband or wife with fine, mixed-blood children.

It is a perfect arrangement. Odin has been wanting to clinch ties with Jötunheim for centuries (it has nothing to do with gaining exclusive trading rights to Jötunheim’s coveted natural resources, oh, goodness, no, certainly not), and now he can finally do it. Baldur is pleased at the prospect of achieving this goal for his father and readily agrees to the match.

In just a few short years, Loki is married to Baldur in one of the most extravagant and ostentatious weddings in Asgard’s history. Women (and men) all over the kingdom mourn that their dream prince is now off the market, and their scorn for Loki is bitter and fierce. (A simmering, low-level dislike of Frost Giants crops up overnight in Asgard, and it’s something Loki must deal with for years to come.)

Loki tries to ignore all the negativity and fear in his heart and enjoy his wedding day. He pretends to be happy at the reception feast, but he struggles to truly smile. Prince Baldur is nice, but he is a far cry from the spouse Loki imagined having one day. Their wedding night is even more disappointing. Baldur is overeager and giggly from too much wine, and he spills himself prematurely, less than a minute after deflowering his virginal bride. He then passes out beside him and starts snoring.

Annoyed (but partly relieved to be spared a long night of awkward first-time sex), Loki wraps himself in a robe, pours himself a drink, and slinks away to take in the moonlight in the east gardens. He walks barefoot in the soft grass between the rose bushes, sipping his wine, sighing at the moon, and trying not to feel sorry for himself.

This is his lot, his destiny. And really, it isn’t so bad. Baldur is a good man. He doesn’t have any disgusting habits, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t swear. He keeps himself clean and measures his words carefully. He doesn’t lose his temper easily. In fact, he seems incapable of being angered. He is polite and educated and diplomatic, a natural king. He’s a little self-absorbed and prideful sometimes, and he has an irritating laugh, but if those are the worst of his vices, then Loki counts himself fortunate.

At least he was not married off to one of Surtur’s vicious sons. Or a haughty Elf. Or a bigoted Vanir who believes the jötnar are descended from ogres. At least he was not given to a lowly drunkard of common birth and poor character. Loki would not be forced to toil for a living, laboring to earn his daily bread, spending the majority of his life pregnant and impoverished. He would not be beaten or berated. He would not starve or suffer. No, he is married to a very nice, handsome, mild-mannered, financially secure Æsir prince, and even though they don’t share a passionate, romantic attraction to one another, it’s not bad for an arranged marriage. Loki will teach Baldur how to love and please a jötunn. He will be a good wife. He will bear Baldur’s children—maybe; hopefully; if that strange organ and thin, meager seed is capable of giving him a baby—and someday he will be a queen. It’s an impressive destiny, especially for a defective runt. A fairy tale ending. Loki is very grateful to his mother for realizing his potential.

As he walks in the gardens, he spots Thor, his new brother-in-law, whom Loki had been introduced to at the wedding and never really got a chance to speak to during the feast. He is sitting under a tree and smoking a pipe, contemplating the moon.

Ugh, Loki thinks disdainfully. A smoker. And he has a beard, too, which means he must stink of pipeweed. His hair is long and unkempt and he’s dressed like a poor farmer, sleeveless tunic showing off his bare arms—great Ymir, just look at those enormous muscles, it’s almost grotesque—and worn leather trousers that look like they haven’t been washed in a year.

So this is the other Odinson. Loki thanks his lucky stars that he got the more civilized brother. He couldn’t imagine being married to this brute. He looks to be mean and simple, one of those rough, rude alpha males who speaks in one-word grunts and chews with his mouth open. No, thank you.

Loki begins to tiptoe back into the shadows, but Thor’s strong, low voice stops him: “Asgard is a poor trade for the majesty of Jötunheim’s mountains. I hope you will not regret your decision.”

Loki is at first surprised to hear such eloquent words from such a coarse-looking man, and he is flattered by the compliment to his homeland. Then he bristles defensively.

It’s true, he hadn’t wanted to leave Jötunheim—with its cool, green valleys and soaring glaciers and crystal-clear lakes—to come to this gold-plated city of few trees and even fewer friendly faces. But there was no life for him in Jötunheim. He had known that since he was a child. He was destined to become a part of his spouse’s realm, and once he left the place of his birth, there would be no returning. Such is the way with his people.

Loki stiffens his lips and answers curtly, “Jötunheim is a crude, underdeveloped region. Nothing but rocks and ice. I am glad to call Asgard my home now.”

Thor chuckles. “You’re a fine liar, Laufeykin. That is good. You’ll need that talent if you hope to survive here.” He stands up and approaches Loki, who takes a fearful step back.

Thor is much taller and broader up-close. Loki realizes how vulnerable and underdressed he is, nude beneath his robe, with his husband’s seed still sticky between his legs. Perhaps brothers shared wives in Asgard, like they did in other kingdoms. Dear gods. Thor could easily take whatever he wanted from Loki, right here in this garden.

But Thor only gazes at him tenderly—such blue eyes he has—and Loki swears he sees pity flash across his rugged features.

“You’re too good for him,” he utters. “Such rarity and beauty…” He raises his hand as if to touch Loki’s cheek, but his fingers curl at the last moment and retreat. “I wish you many years of happiness… if you can find them here.”

Then he turns and disappears into the shadows, leaving Loki standing in the garden with his heart pounding and the sweet perfume of roses all around him.

Two years pass. Loki remains an uncomfortable stranger in Asgard, never really fitting in or feeling accepted by anyone but the immediate royal family—and even then, it is only because they must.

Old age begins to catch up with Odin. He spends more and more time in his regenerative sleep cycles and there is murmuring of his abdicating the throne to Baldur within the next year.

Loki begins to feel the distinct pressure to produce a child. Reigning kings prefer to relinquish their crowns when they have one or two grandchildren already on the ground, for it is the sign of a stable lineage, securing the line of succession. If a future queen cannot provide her husband with children, what good is she to him? This is what Loki has been told his entire life: marry well. Make babies. Achieve power, wealth, and status. Secure them, defend them. Don’t let anyone see your weakness.

But Loki is beginning to wonder if it might be impossible for an Æsir to breed a jötunn, regardless of how potent or fertile either of them may be.

Baldur is flippant toward his spouse’s worries. “Don’t worry, my little dove. It will happen in time.”

But babies aren’t made out of thin air, Loki knows. Baldur is tenacious and extremely dedicated to his duties to the royal court, and he takes on responsibilities one after the other. There is very little time left at the end of the day to devote to his marriage, and even then, he seems more interested in hosting dinner parties and building his wine collection than making love. Loki almost has to beg and plead for it.

In the hopes of getting Baldur interested in the activity, Loki implements all sorts of strategies to spice things up in the bedroom, but his attempts are usually met with laughter, eye-rolls, and patronizing little pats on his head.

“Oh, my dear Loki, we don’t need these tawdry, silly things! Our marriage is exciting enough. Here, put aside those toys and come to arms, darling. Nature has already given us everything we need.”

Loki hides his annoyance but submits to Baldur’s requests.

The man is absolutely clueless when it comes to romance.

It could be worse, Loki reminds himself, lying beneath Baldur and staring blankly up at the ceiling while Baldur makes clean, quiet, polite love to him. I could be married to a Fire Giant. An elf. A Vanir.

Thor.

Loki shivers and closes his eyes, wrapping himself around his husband.

He wonders what it’s like, being at the mercy of those hard hands, pinned under the weight of that heavy body, so musky and hairy and warm. Being taken roughly, having his hair pulled and his haunches spanked, feeling the delicious stretch of a thick cock thrusting into his cunt, hearing all the sloppy wet sounds as he is thoroughly, ruthlessly fucked—

Loki comes with a cry and bites down on Baldur’s shoulder.

“Ouch! Sweetheart, please! There’s no need for that!”

Loki retreats like a scolded child, his orgasm dying almost as soon as it began. He is embarrassed and ashamed. He shouldn’t be fantasizing about his brother-in-law. It is wrong. Terrible, actually.

It could always be worse, says a voice in the back of his mind.

Loki doesn’t know how, but he has no choice but to believe it.

They are preparing to celebrate their fourth wedding anniversary when war suddenly breaks out on Vanaheim. Loki is at the council meeting when Thor—resplendent in full armor, with his hair plaited and beard groomed, cloaked in a blood-red cape, such a powerful and formidable sight—steps forward and announces his intention to lead the armies of Asgard.

But Baldur, who is neither a warrior nor very military-minded, intervenes and says it would be folly to send his little brother into battle while the future king of Asgard sits comfortably in his palace. “Nay, Thor, remain behind and look after my affairs! This is only a skirmish; I shall be home before the end of the season.”

Thus it is decided. Baldur bids farewell to his wife and his brother, kissing them both on their cheeks, and departs for Vanaheim.

The “skirmish” drags on for weeks, becoming months. With Baldur absent, Loki’s link to (and refuge from) the Asgardian people disappears. He grows increasingly melancholic and isolated. He can be heard crying at night, and he wanders through each day looking miserable and depressed, silent and sullen, if he is even seen at all. He spends most of the day locked in his room with only the servants for visitors, avoiding awkward, unnecessary interactions with people.

Thor’s concern finally reaches the point where he can no longer stand aside and watch Loki deteriorate. This lonely, beautiful, neglected creature is suffering. Baldur had instructed Thor to tend to his affairs while he was gone, and Thor is—politically. But he gladly resolves to set aside his work duties and make Loki his top priority.

Thor knocks on Loki’s bedroom door one evening and Loki answers it with flushed cheeks and a stuffy nose, his jewel-red eyes bloodshot. His breath smells of strong wine. They stare at one another awkwardly for a moment, then Thor clears his throat and asks if Loki would join him for a walk in the nearby wood. He offers him his arm.

Loki sniffs. “Oh, I. I couldn’t. I’m in my dressing gown and I haven’t, I was already in bed when you—”

“It wasn’t a suggestion.” Thor thrusts out his elbow. “Come,” he says more gently. “You’ve spent enough time indoors. The fresh air will do you good.”

Loki timidly acquiesces, sliding his hand around the proffered arm, and Thor leads him away. Once outside, Thor wraps his arm around Loki’s waist and uses Mjölnir to fly them to the edge of the wood.

Loki has never flown before. At first he is terrified and clings to Thor tightly, but then he relaxes when he realizes how safe and secure he is in Thor’s arms. He takes a deep breath and smiles, the wind flowing through his hair. He hasn’t felt this good in weeks.

They land at the wood’s edge and walk along its borders, making small talk and listening to the natural world around them, so wholesome and soft compared to the hard, man-made surroundings of the city.

They speak about the war, the future, the weather. Thor asks if Loki has received any letters from Baldur; Loki haltingly confesses he hasn’t. “He is very busy, I imagine,” he says with a brave but sad smile.

Thor scowls at the ground as he walks. He knows his brother. Hardworking but single-minded, focused on politics and very little else. Loki doesn’t deserve to be brushed aside, to be placed so far down on the list of Baldur’s cares. No wife does. But Thor simply says, “Yes, I’m sure that is the case.”

Night falls and Thor returns Loki to the palace.

“Thank you,” says Loki, turning at his bedroom door with a fragile grin. “I really enjoyed tonight.”

Thor smiles, and Loki is struck by the warmth and gentleness of his face. Hardly the barbarian he had mistaken him for in the beginning.

“I am available again tomorrow evening,” says Thor. “I would be happy to spend it with you.”

Loki nods, and Thor politely kisses Loki’s knuckles and bids him goodnight.

Loki shuts his bedroom door and presses back against it, sighing as he gazes up at the ceiling.

Four years he’s spent in Asgard, yet only now does he feel like he’s made a friend.

Soon these nightly strolls become a routine, and a warm camaraderie blossoms between Thor Odinson and Loki Laufeykin. They find they are not so different; they like nature and animals and share an appreciation for the beauty of life’s simple pleasures: the smell of the earth after a spring rain; a hot drink on a cold day; the taste of a sun-warmed apple plucked right off the branch; the rumble of thunder, the song of a bird, the trickle of a clear, quiet brook. Their tongues loosen as they become more familiar with one another, and soon Loki’s shyness fades.

One evening he confides in Thor something he’s been keeping a secret:

“Two weeks after Baldur left, I began to feel ill in the mornings.” His voice is delicate, his face tense as he speaks. “The smell of breakfast would make me vomit, so I stopped coming to the dining hall and took breakfast in my room instead. I wasn’t avoiding everyone, I simply didn’t want to make a disgusting scene at the table.”

Thor stops and stares. So that was why Loki had stopped showing up for breakfast. He isn’t unsociable—he is pregnant. Baldur is going to be a father and Thor an uncle. This is very good news for their family.

Why then does Thor feel so bitter and jealous?

He tries to hide it. He clasps Loki’s hands and forces a smile onto his face. “I’m very happy for you. Have you written to Baldur of your good news?”

Loki looks downward and pinches his lips together. “No. And he will never find out, if I can help it.” He closes his eyes. “Two months later, there was… I, I miscarried. I lost the baby.”

Thor’s heart clenches in his chest. He opens his mouth but no words come.

Loki gulps and continues, “I went to bed that night perfectly fine. Well, I was a little more tired than usual and my back was hurting, but I thought it was normal. Maybe it was; I can’t say. All I know is that I woke up the next morning and there was blood… everywhere. And I hurt”—he places his hand on his flat lower belly—“here. That’s how I knew. I knew I’d lost it.”

Thor stares, too stunned to react.

Loki bows his head. “I was so happy. I thought things were finally changing. I was already picking out names—” He chokes and covers his mouth, unable to finish. He falls apart.

Thor reaches out and pulls him into an embrace. Loki almost disappears in his massive arms.

“These things happen,” says Thor roughly, his eyes filling with tears. “It is not your fault. Take heart, Loki. You and Baldur will make another child.”

“But this one took so long,” Loki sobs, clutching Thor’s cape in his fists. “We’ve been trying for four years! I don’t know if we can make another. I don’t know if I could bear the pain of losing another child. Oh, Thor, it’s just—I fear Baldur is going to die in this war and then I’ll be stranded here in Asgard, cast out from the palace a ruined widow, untouchable, unwanted, forced to—”

“That will not happen to you, Loki, I give you my word,” says Thor firmly. “Baldur is going to come home to you and make you happy again. You will have another child growing in your belly within a fortnight, and you and he will share many happy years together. Believe it, Loki, and it will be so.”

Loki stops moaning but the tears still slide down his cheeks. He buries his face against Thor’s chest.

He should believe it, but he doesn’t.

He’s not sure if he wants to.

A week later, Odin’s ravens deliver to him the terrible news: Baldur is dead.

He did not die gloriously on the battlefield, nor was he murdered by assassins. He was celebrating a recent victory with his men and unwittingly stepped in front of a drunken archer trying to impress a local Vanir woman. The arrow went straight through his neck, severing his nerves, and he fell to the ground dead.

The story will be altered, of course. Baldur will have a warrior’s funeral, go down in history as a hero. It is the least they could do.

When Odin shares the news with his family and close advisors, Loki turns and flees from the throne room, sobbing. Not because his worst fears had come true; not because he is now a lone sheep among a court of hungry wolves; but because his husband is dead. The man with whom he’d shared four years of his life—not the best years, but they had their moments. Smiles. Comfort. Familiarity.

But now Baldur is gone. Loki will never see him again, nor hear his laughter, nor smell his hair, nor feel his warmth beside him as he sleeps. He is completely alone. He has lost his unborn child and now his husband, and all he wants to do is run until he dies.

Thor chases after Loki, finally catching him in the east gardens, where they first spoke to one another on a mild evening four years ago. He takes Loki’s face in his hands and tries to soothe him, but Loki is inconsolable.

“I knew it, I knew it!” he weeps. “I knew he was going to die! Now there will be no children, no throne, no life for me here! No one will want me now! I am widowed and worthless!”

Thor holds Loki’s cheeks so he is forced to look into his eyes. “That will not be your fate, Loki. I gave you my word, and I intend to keep it.”

He sinks down on both his knees, grasping Loki’s hands tightly in his own.

“It is not uncommon in Asgard for an unwed man to take his deceased brother’s wife as his own,” he says. “This way, you shall remain in our family and be looked after. You will not be abandoned or cast out. I will be your friend, your companion, your ally, Loki. I will do my best to nurture your dreams. I will place your happiness over my own, for that is only what you deserve.

“I know that you loved my brother. Maybe you feel that you will never love again. Perhaps you won’t. I cannot say. But I tell you now, Loki, I will not force you to submit to me, nor render unto me anything you do not willingly give. I will not ask that you love me or make love to me, but I hope that someday you might find me worthy of your affections. If so, I will endeavor to remain worthy of them for the rest of my life.”

A squeak escapes Loki’s mouth and his eyes gleam wetly in the light.

Thor looks up at him, his face honest and hopeful. “I am already yours, Loki Laufeykin. Will you also be mine?”

Loki sucks in a breath. “Oh, Thor—” He bends down and folds himself around Thor’s head, hugging him, shedding tears into his blond hair. “I will. I will.”

All around them, the rose bushes bloom full and pink.

And this is only the first half of the novel’s summary. They still have to get married and fall in love and Thor has to defend Loki’s honor and Loki of course gets pregnant again and they name the child in memory of Baldur and Thor must stop the war in Vanaheim and become king of Asgard and

*collapses*

#help me jane austen you're my only ho #ask bender #thorki #ficlet #hjbwrites #hjbedit #baldur x loki #loki laufeyson #thor odinson #baldur odinson #intersex loki #mpreg #miscarriage #drama #arranged marriage au #accidental love #nafw

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eirianerisdar · 7 years

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i'm terrible at titles but for that fic title ask thing: a falcon in the dive, syzygy, and little people

I can finally answer thisask using the actual reply box because I’ve done two of these already:

Little People(Obi-Wan is interviewed by the holonet press during the clone wars. Cueamusement but much more angst)

A Falcon in theDive (Obi-Wan dives. From the Temple gardens, across galactic history,to another Falcon altogether)

Syzygy

Syzygy(noun): An alignment of three celestial objects, be it star, planet, or moon

Characters:Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Tahl etc. (many, many Jedi)

Summary: Jedi die younger than most; but they arereunited in different ways. A somewhat AU-ish interpretation of Jedi scatteredacross the multiverse after death. Jumps universes from victorian-era-esqueworlds to futuristic, inexplicable ones. Begins with Qui-Gon. Ends withtwo others.

Note: In this AU Qui-Gon didn’t hang around after his death as a Force-ghost, so he wasn’t there for Anakin killing Tuskens, etc., etc.

Qui-Gon Jinn wakes to thesound of a portal opening.

Even after seven years ofthis being common occurrence, the noise remains utterly distinctive. It is anindescribable rending of the fabric of space-time; something between hissingand tearing, but without any echo whatsoever. It is a gateway of the purestkind.

Qui-Gon watches the portalshimmer in the opposite wall. It has opened into a world of humans - as mostworlds he has visited usually are - and a street made grey by rain. The groundbeyond is not made of duracrete, he can see. Acurious mode of transport trundles by, drawn by two four-legged animals withsleek manes of hair and sleekly curved bodies. The transport itself is composedof four wooden wheels and a painted box-like structure.

The portal shimmers with alayer of carmine energy. People walk past without seeming to notice it.

As always, an outfit hasappeared next to the portal, on the empty coat-stand that Qui-Gon had placedthere simply for that purpose. He eyes the strange, tall black hat on it withwariness.

It is seven years fromNaboo, almost to the day.

Seven years, and every day anew portal, with a new task. Qui-Gon is never aware what task he has tocomplete until he enters this new world. He does not find it. It finds him.

He has thrownhimself into battles with nothing but bronze armour and a blunted sword toprotect himself; he has found himself in worlds of peace, where his only taskfor the day is to help a little girl find the perfect flower, or to carry anold man’s groceries home for him.

Qui-Gon performs hismorning ablutions quickly, and reaches for the outfit provided to him. Itis…strange. The white shirt, boots and trousers are simple enough, but there is ashort, sleeveless silk garment to go over it, and a long, black coat thatswings about his knees. Qui-Gon finds himselfmystified at a length of silk, more ribbon-like than anything.

Men walk past the portalwith similar lengths of silk tied around their necks in elaborate knots, soQui-Gon manages to come up with something that does not seem too much like asquashed ball of yarn. He rams the thin-rimmed, tall black hat on his head andpulls on his gloves.

Qui-Gon cannot stop thesmile from spreading across his face when he snatches up the last item providedto him; he pulls at the head of the long black cane, and finds the glint of asword within.

Sword-cane. Excellent.

With that happy thought,he ducks through the portal.

The smell is what hits himfirst.

Qui-Gon is immediatelysure that this is a city in the middle of an era of increased industrialproduction; only a rapidly-expanding city with a rich history of pre-industrialdevelopment has this particular stink.

But even here, in thissmoke-aired, sewer-filled city, the Force is present.

Qui-Gon closes his eyesonce, opens them again, and begins to walk.

Close to four hours later,he hurls himself back through the portal, bleeding out his momentum in a muddyroll across the pristine floor of his bedchamber.

Across the shimmeringbarrier, five very confused bloodhounds sniff at the lamplit pavement, utterlyconfused at the disappearance of their quarry.

The portal closes with afirm snap, leaving blank wall in its place.

Qui-Gon tugs at thegrime-encrusted, ruined knot at his neck - a cravat, he now knows - anddrops the length of silk to the floor. It disappears, as is usual for allprovided clothes at the end of a daily task. He is happy to see it go.

The sky outside his littleapartment is bright with afternoon sunshine.

Qui-Gon cleans himself up,dresses in a subdued outfit, and checks his kitchen.

He is running out of eggs.Or whatever the equivalent of eggs are in this universe.

He pulls on a jacket andgoes to the market.

This world, the world inwhich he woke up in seven years ago, is not particularly special. It is peacefulin places, at war in others. There is rudimentary space travel, but not beyondthe closest few planets. Qui-Gon had discovered very quickly within the firstfew months of living here that there is absolutely no knowledge whatsoeveramong the general populace of the Force, or the Jedi, or any other speciesbesides humans. It is as if the galaxy and Republic Qui-Gon served and gave hislife to does not exist at all.

He buys eggs, and a few things for the care of his houseplants. The shopkeepers are polite but distant.

Qui-Gon can feel theirwariness flicker in the Force as he turns to go, like searchlights dancingacross the back of his head, whispering:

There isalways something different about him, that Mister Jinn.

Come sunset, Qui-Gon makeshimself a meal. It is delicious and tastes absolutely different from anythinghe is used to in his old world. The salt here has an unfamiliar tang. The meatis different. The vegetables do not sing with the energy of the Living Force.

But the Force is stillhere, at least, steady and pure. Qui-Gon thinks he might have gone mad withoutit.

He runs though a few kataafter evening meal, in the small dojo connected to his study through aside-door. Even without a lightsaber, the forms flow through him as perfectlyand lightly as they did when he first mastered them. It is at times like thesethat he values the youth that he has in this world; his body for allappearances and abilities seems to match his own when he was about thirty-five.

It is better than havingsixty-year-old knees, certainly.

When he has driven himselfthrough enough repetitions of advanced Ataru velocities to blur the white wallsinto resembling a Temple sparring arena, Qui-Gon halts.

He washes up and goes tosleep. The bed seems to swallow him whole.

He does not dream.

The days blur past withoutmemory or time.

Some days, the tasks aresimple, and he speaks snippets of conversation to beings across the multiverse,tossing words into the aether, like a passing gale would scatter leaves intothe river.

Then there are days theculmination of whole wars rest upon his shoulders, and he negotiates and speaksand fights - but hours later he always steps back through the portal again andinto the artificial tidiness of his apartment, no matter whether he is drippingblood onto the carpet, or pristine in honoured robes.

The Force provides noanswer when he inquires why he is here, or why he must complete these tasks. Itsimply surges and recedes when he meditates, and whispers, patience.

And then comes the day hispatience is finally rewarded.

Ten years post-Naboo, Qui-Gon has just begunsupper when there is an unmistakable hiss-snap of a portal opening.

His hand pauses in the actof shaking more salt over the pot of soup.

“No,” he says, to nobodyin particular.

The Force eddies aroundhis ankles, encouragingly.

“No,” Qui-Gon says again,firmly. He places the salt container to the side and reaches for a spice-jar. “It is time for evening meal. I have to eat so I can throw myself into another battle tomorrow morning.”

He nearly drops the jar as a sudden headache starts up behind his eyes.

After a moment, he shuts off the stove.

“Force-forsaken duty,” Qui-Gon mutters. He turns to face the portal.

Behind the translucent barrier is a snow-swept train station, looking not unlike one from Qui-Gon’s current universe. The portal looks out onto a platform and a set of tracks; the view of the opposite platform is obscured by a train halted there.

Frowning at the portal, Qui-Gon moodily reaches around to undo the ties of his apron.

There is a sharp hiss of hydraulics as the train pulls away from the platform.

Qui-Gon raises his head, and the breath stops in his chest.

There, standing on the opposite platform, is a woman with hair the colour of freshly-watered earth, and skin the shade of bronze-kissed jasper. Her hands are tucked into her coat-pockets for warmth; her scarf billows in the wind as she glances to her right.

Her eyes. Her green-and-gold-striped eyes.

Qui-Gon stares at Tahl Uvain and knows this cannot be a dream, because he is already dead, and he has not dreamed in a decade.

And then he senses her; a bright-flamed star blossoms on the edge of his consciousness where an empty void had been before.

He has stumbled through the portal before he even began to think of stepping forward.

Tahl’s sharp eyes catch the movement in the air, and the next moment, green and gold meet sea-blue.

Her spine straightens. Proud and confident and strong; three of the many, many things that Qui-Gon had loved about her.

And then he realises.

She can see. She can see.

Qui-Gon does not dare move. It would seem neither does she; they stare at each other across a no-man’s-land of two train-tracks, as though neither of them have ever seen anything before; as if this, before them, is beautiful and wondrous enough as to be wholly indescribable.

Tahl’s lips move first, and the words come, muffled by snow but clear as a clarion across the space between them:

“Qui? Is that you?”

Qui-Gon thinks he might have wept, then. It would have been different, perhaps, if she had spoken his name in full; but it has been two lifetimes since he last heard someone say his name with such fondness, and a lifetime since he last heard his name at all.

He tries to say her name in return, but the sounds do not come.

It does not matter. Recognition blooms on Tahl’s features; her eyes are immediately lit with such incandescent joy that Qui-Gon’s wonders if his heart will stop simply by mirroring it.

Joy he has not felt since…

Since he heard the words I pledge myself to you, Qui-Gon.

A deep rumble sounds to Qui-Gon’s right. Both Jedi’s heads snap to the side; the tracks tremble as a train approaches.

Panic flares in Qui-Gon’s chest; he cannot allow this train to slice between the two platforms and separate them, not when they have endured enough years apart for death, twice.

“Qui-Gon!”

He glimpses her sprinting for the platform stairs as the train rushes into the station; he pivots on a heel and lunges at the stairs on his own platform. The short seconds he races up the steps are pounding spaces of disbelieving hope.

At the top of the steps is a corner, and round the corner a bridge, and down that-

They slam into each other at the centre of the bridge, suspended above the tracks like two actors that have missed their cue, and raced out of the wrong entrances, colliding.

Qui-Gon has buried his face in her shoulder and breathed in her Force-signature before he even registers the weight of her in his arms.

Tahl’s arms are so tight around his chest that he thinks he might be sawed in half. Or perhaps that pressure is not her at all, but the pain of a heart remade.

It is strange. They have both died once, separated by a span of ten years, but here, in this moment, Qui-Gon thinks he is happy enough to die.

“Tahl,” he sobs, muffled by the cold and the snow.

“You’re not supposed to be dead, you idiot,” Tahl mumbles somewhere under his chin.

“You weren’t, either,” Qui-Gon whispers.

“Hush.”

They stand, orbiting each other in the Force, a perfect binary star.

The Force glimmers, and laughs.

It is not long after they find each other that more Jedi begin to appear.

Two hundred Jedi flicker into being out of nowhere, scattered across the multiverse. Qui-Gon and Tahl link hands and seek them out. They bring troubling news, of the beginning of war.

More Jedi are found throughout the few years after, increasing in number but often decreasing in age, with the youngest no older than junior padawans.

Qui-Gon spends his nights sipping tea with Tahl, fiddling with his wedding ring distractedly as he thinks about Generals Kenobi and Skywalker, leading campaigns far out on the outer rim of a galaxy he can no longer reach.

Then came the day that the portals opened non-stop for twenty-four hours.

Qui-Gon and Tahl run, and run, and at the end of that one day, they have gathered ten thousand Jedi.

Qui-Gon gazes at the fallen Order, and wonders that the two faces he searches for are not there.

Mace Windu steps out of the crowd, flexes his right hand for a moment as though checking if it is really there, opens his mouth, and speaks.

Qui-Gon crumbles.

Nineteen years pass quickly, here.

The Jedi Order settles in nicely to this new world. The initiates who were cut down in the death throes of the old Order are all now knighted. Qui-Gon is the new Grand Master; he finds the job hopelessly dull, but Mace had insisted.

Then one day, a portal opens, and Qui-Gon drops his cup of tea all over his new robes.

“Master,” Obi-Wan says, blue eyes twinkling above well-cut beard. He doesn’t look a day over thirty.

Qui-Gon knocks aside his tea-table in his haste to embrace the other man. Obi-Wan’s laugh cascades into the Force, as does Tahl’s shout when she sees him.

Syzygy. Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Tahl. Three celestial objects in complete alignment, forever.

END

There you have it. A 2,400 word “snippet”. *falls over* Thanks for reading! Do reblog and leave a comment! I hope this fic made you smile as much as it did for me :) I think this is a pretty good AU to keep adding tidbits into, so send me prompts for that any time. It will be called Syzygy AU, I think.

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#star wars #qui-gon jinn #tahl #obi-wan kenobi #jedi apprentice #sort of anyway so I'll tag it #star wars fanfic #mace #replies #my post #fanfic #syzygy

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Pencil Drawing Fashion Illustration

Original Vintage 1930's Art Deco Watercolor and Pencil Fashion Design Drawing 2. $10.00 shipping. Rare Rouben Ter-Arutunian '67 Original Broadway Set Design Important Designer. Large Pair of Signed Original Fashion Etchings Sketches Framed. Hi guysThis is Drawing Dress Using Color Pencil Fashion illustration art Fashion illustration sketches Thanks For Watching ♡Don't forget Subscribe to #CA. Design Detail Flesh Tones Fabric fashion s K ETC h B o o K aBingl sixth edition f ashion Sketchbook, 6th Edition demystifies the fashion drawing process with simple, step-by-step directions. Now in full color and completely revised, with updated instructions and images throughout, this introductory text explains how to draw women, men,.

What Is Fashion Illustration

Fashion Figure Illustration

Pencil Drawing Fashion Illustration

Pencil Drawing Fashion Illustrations

Jeanne Paquin (1869-1936), fashion design, Paris, 1907. Museum no. E.1432-1957

1900s

For most of the first decade of the 20th century, fashion mainly showed seasonal modifications rather than any fundamental changes. However, as the century unfolded, the concept of the 'natural figure' banished the corseted and exaggerated S-shaped figure that was fashionable at the beginning of the decade. These innovations, a significant liberation for women, were accompanied by the introduction of strong and vibrant colours.

'Originality and Opulence': the House of Paquin

In 1890 Jeanne Paquin (1869 - 1936) and her husband Isidore Paquin opened their Maison de Couture Rue de la Paix in Paris, close to the celebrated House of Worth. Paquin soon became famous for introducing coloured lining to otherwise mournful looking black coats, and for adding embellishments of lace or rich embroidery to black dresses. The innovative yet subtle use of furs became one of the house's trademarks. In an age when fashion advertising was in still in its infancy, Jeanne Paquin was the first couturier to send mannequins to the trend-setting and trend-spotting races at Longchamp and Chantilly.

In 1900 Jeanne Paquin was elected president of the Fashion Section for the Universal Exhibition and, throughout her career, many of her creations participated to those international fairs. The originality and opulence of Paquin's designs soon bolstered the international reputation of the fashion house. One of her greatest achievements was the opening of foreign branches in Buenos Aires, Madrid and London - she was the first Parisian couturier to take this step and many followed her lead. She was the first woman in her field to be awarded the Légion d'Honneur in 1913.

At Jeanne Paquin's death in 1936, the house passed into the hands of the Spanish couturier Antonio Canovas del Castillo. Paquin bought the House of Worth in 1953 but closed its doors on 1 July 1956. The V&A has a magnificent collection of Paquin sketch books, ranging from 1897 to 1956.

1910s

The 1910s were a period of dramatic change in fashion. Though many trends had their roots in fashions of the previous decade, the First World War cemented the move towards more practical, less restrictive clothing. As women were called into factories and offices, fashionable dress simplified and shortened.

Florrie Westwood

Florrie Westwood (dates unknown) was a London designer active in the early part of the 20th century. Nothing much is known about her apart from her drawings, from which we can see that she produced elegant high-end, if conservative, fashions. Many hundreds of now-anonymous dressmakers and designers like her existed in towns and cities across the country until the middle of the 20th-century mass-market ready-to-wear clothing came to dominate fashion.

1) Florrie Westwood, fashion design, London, 1918-9. Museum no. E.1539-1977

1) The three 'Original Designs' in the image from 1918 - 1919 are very typical of the late 1910s. They feature high waists and feminine materials and colours. They also anticipate the androgynous look of the 1920s with their linear, straight silhouettes. The designer's own descriptions of the dresses, written next to them are:

'Left: Dress of mauve taffeta and ninon, with insertion of ivory lace. The sash is of mauve ribbon to match the dress.

Centre: A simple evening frock of powder blue satin & shell pink tulle. The broad sash is pansy black ribbon with bright appliqué orange flowers.

Right: Frock of ivory crepe georgette, with two deep bands of peach coloured self material. The insertion is very fine lace.'

2) This fashion illustration portrays three afternoon dress designs drawn in pencil and colour wash. It is signed and dated by the artist. Such a collection of designs seen together demonstrate the increasing trend for women to abandon the restrictive corset. During the early years of the 1910s, designers started to promote the use of lighter and softer fabrics in order to make their creations increasingly free flowing. This new approach focussed on fluidity provided a contrast with the stiff and S-Bend silhouettes of the previous decades.

3) These four different designs for winter coats by Florrie Westwood are dated 15 January 1919. They emphasise the new fashion for the linear silhouette and ankle length designs. They also show the new shape (higher neck covering and greater shoulder coverage) of fur collars and cuffs.

3) Florrie Westwood, fashion design, London, 1919. Museum no. E.1538-1977

2) Florrie Westwood, fashion design, London, 1918. Museum no. E.1536-1977

Melanie Vermont

The designs by Melanie Vermont (1897 - 1972) in the V&A collection were given to the museum by Mrs M. Goldflame, the niece of the artist. At that time, Mariano Fortuny (1871 - 1949), a Spanish designer based in Venice, invented a new special pleating process and new dyeing techniques for his dress designs. His innovative designs were inspirational to other designers, but also hugely successful as they gave women the freedom of movement they had been craving.

4) These two evening dress designs in pencil by Melanie Vermont in the image to the right are good examples of how, at that period of time, designers increasingly used flowing material which enabled them to create dresses with elaborate drapes, thereby moving away from the restrictive corsets fashionable in the previous decade. During the early years of the 1910s, designers started to promote the use of lighter and softer fabrics in order to make their creations increasingly free flowing. This new approach focussed on fluidity provided a contrast with the stiff and S-Bend silhouettes of the previous decades. The tunic in the right hand design is made out of pleated material.

5) This illustration shows five designs for girls costume in pencil and colour wash. In this decade, the emphasis for children's dress changed from the waist to the hip, and dresses and skirts also became shorter (above the knee) as shown in these designs. The central figure is wearing a green coloured day dress with a pleated skirt and an elaborate belt which matches her small collar and the sleeve cuff. Also shown are two coat designs. The second figure to the left is wearing a white and red chequer short coat with Alamo buttons whereas the further figure on the right is wearing a white and navy striped coat with sailor navy collar and matching cuffs.

4) Madeleine Vermont (1897-1972), fashion design, London, 1913. Museum no. E.957-1977

5) Madeleine Vermont (1897-1972), fashion design, London, 1913. Museum no. E.954-1977

1920s

Developments in fashion following the war were greatly influenced by the changing attitudes of women. Younger women were empowered by their wartime independence and deliberately flouted the style preferences of their mothers' generation for flounces, frills and lace. They cropped their hair and wore skirts to the knee, with simple, linear dresses that gave them a boyish silhouette.

Norman Hartnell

6) Norman Hartnell (1901-79), fashion design, London, 1920s. Museum no. E.29-1943

London-born Norman Hartnell (1901 - 79) set up his fashion house in 1923 and soon became famous for his lavish and romantic evening and bridal gowns. Hartnell is credited with introducing the longer-length skirts that would mark the end of the flapper era and his designs were sought after by the sophisticated British 'elite'.

Very much a 'society' dressmaker, Hartnell is, however, perhaps best known for his long-standing association with the English Royal family. He designed the dress worn by Queen Elizabeth for her wedding to Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh in 1947, as well as her coronation robes in 1953. In 1977, Hartnell was appointed KCVO, the first knighthood conferred for services to fashion.

6) Hartnell designed this dress with two materials in mind: the under dress is of solid material and is covered from shoulder to hem with chiffon. The dress has a boat neck line with tight sleeves up to the elbow where they fan out with 'scollop' edging. This matches the hem of the dress. Hartnell supplemented the design with a beaded belt with tassels, matched with a band of beads on the sleeves. The design also shows a large head band with sparkling embroidery. The simplicity and grace of this dress would have been perfect for the fashionable cocktail parties of the era.

Hilda Steward

Nothing much is known about Hilda Steward apart from her drawings, from which we can see that she produced elegant high-end fashions. Many hundreds of now-anonymous dressmakers and designers like her existed in towns and cities across the country until the middle of the 20th century, when mass-market ready-to-wear clothing came to dominate fashion.

7) This sleeveless evening dress was designed by Hilda Steward in 1920 appears to be made in satin with a short lace three layer overskirt hanging from the belt. The belt is slightly higher than the waist in the front and supports the overskirt only from the side to the back - leaving the front completely free.

The figure is wearing a bracelet above the elbow and a large head band typical of the 1920s to hold the new short fashionable hair cut. The designer's signature appears in the bottom right hand corner in the form of her two initials overlapped, including the date running alongside it in a vertical strip.

8) This is a design for an orange day dress with an overskirt made by two pleated panels. The figure is holding a fur wrap which looks like Sable; it matches some fur details on the dress including those on the hem. The large brim black hat has two Ostrich feathers.

The belt is to be held by a gold ornament. The designer's signature appears in the bottom right hand corner in the form of her two initials overlapped, including the date running alongside it in a vertical strip.

8) Hilda Steward, fashion design, London, 1923. Museum no. E.1039-1988

7) Hilda Steward, fashion design, London, 1920. Museum no. E.1045-1988

Victor Stiebel

Victor Stiebel (1907 - 73) was born in South Africa in 1907 but settled in England in 1924. After working for three years at the House of Reville, he opened his own fashion house in 1932. A founding member of the Incorporated Society of London Fashion Designers, Stiebel was appointed its Chairman in 1946. Stiebel was highly successful and his clientele included the leading actresses of the day, but also royalty and members of the aristocracy. He created the going-away outfit for Princess Margaret on her marriage to Lord Snowdon in 1960.

The designs by Victor Stiebel in the V&A collections cover the period from 1927 to 1935.

9) The face of the model in this drawing, with the heavily emphasised eyes, follows the tradition established by silent-screen star Theda Bara, who popularised the word 'vamp' (a contraction of vampire, which she played in one of her films) to mean a predatory female, whose heavily khol-encircled eyes were her most memorable feature.

The combination of hair and neckband throw emphasis onto the eyes and blood red lips. The bare left shoulder is balanced by the weight of the hair being also on the left, while the bare shoulder and leg, at once revealed and concealed by the fabric strips, hint at intention and concealed delights.

10) This is a Stiebel design for an evening gown in black and silver with an appliqué or embroidered snaked coiled round it from an uneven hem to bodice. It is striking and original in all its details. The inside of the dress is lined in green - this contrasts the black exterior.

The dress has a square neck line with large shoulder straps. The model is wearing a pearl chocker with matching earrings and bracelet. The short bob hair cut with a fringe was typical of this era. There is a slight sketch for a dress on the mount of this design.

9) Victor Stiebel (1907-76), fashion design, London, 1928. Museum no. S.545-1983

10) Victor Stiebel (1907-73), fashion design, England, about 1927. Museum no. E.1077-1983

1930s

Following the crash of 1929 and the Great Depression, new, more down-to-earth attitudes forced on the world offered great scope for a new simplicity, as encapsulated by Coco Chanel (1883–1971). In Britain, fashion became more eclectic but also more feminine and graceful and, by 1930, the 'boyish' look had disappeared.

Victor Stiebel

11) Fashion design, by Victor Stiebel, London, 1933. Museum no. S.544-1983

Since the mid 19th century, couturiers had dressed major theatrical stars. Victor Stiebel (1907 - 1976) had designed productions while at university, before working in dress design at the House of Reville. In 1932 he opened his own fashion house and was soon in demand to provide contemporary costumes for leading actresses. Mary Ellis, for whom this costume was designed, was a leading actress and singer, and to dress her in a prestigious musical written by Jerome Kern and Oscar Hammerstein II and produced by C B Cochran would have been an excellent advertisement for the young couturier. He designed all her dresses in the production and those for her co-star, Eve Lister, and all the modern clothes in the Zoo and rehearsal scenes; the remainder of the costumes came coming from the Cochran wardrobe and the costume firm of Morris Angel & Son.

11) The dress was the height of chic, with its huge pleated shoulders, bold bow, nipped in jacket and long skirt. The gauntlet gloves helped balance the wide shoulders, while the large bow drew attention to the face. Although the design is coloured pale orange, the notes indicate that it should be made in chartreuse green satin, contrasting with the skirt's dull fabric and the exotic fur of the gauntlet gloves. Such designs were meant to flatter the wearer rather than the wearer be subservient to the designer and the leading lady would have had approval and maybe even a choice in the couturier.

12) The flared lower skirt of this blue dress by Stiebel is an example of the new cut introduced in this decade. The cut is characterised by its simplicity and Stiebel introduced a collar with a bow and tall cuffs all designed with multi-coloured ribbon to break the monotony.

These details match the slim orange belt. There is an inscription in pencil reading: 'I am enclosing bits of ribbon the type I should like for the collar and cuffs'.

13) In the 1930s it became fashionable to wear 'house pyjamas' – trousers with large bottoms made in a soft material. This design by Victor Stiebel shows how this concept could be transformed for more formal occasions from house cocktails to cruise parties.

Similar designs were also created by the Surrealist designer Elsa Schiaparelli. Stiebel's halter neck, sleeveless top contrasts the large bottom trousers wonderfully. The design includes bright orange gloves, a brim hat and matching shoes.

12) Victor Stiebel (1907-76), fashion design, London, 1934-5. Museum no. E.1075-1983

13) Victor Stiebel (1907-76), fashion design, London, 1934-5. Museum no. E.1074-1983

Norman Hartnell: fashioning royalty

14) Fashion design, by Norman Hartnell, London, 1936-9. Museum no. E.37-1943

In 1935 Norman Hartnell received his first Royal commission and from that moment right up to his death in 1979 he continued to create original designs for the Royal family, important members of British society, as well as international figures. The V&A collections contain a great number of examples of Hartnell's pre-war designs reflecting his highly sophisticated, elegant, and unsurpassed use of material and embroidery. These two After Six dresses were designed for H.R.H Princess Elizabeth; both are extremely feminine and delicate.

14) This evening dress was designed for H.M. Queen Elizabeth. A pencil inscription 'Gala' at the bottom of the page suggests that it was designed for an important occasion. The dress is entirely covered with an array of coloured sequences and would have undoubtedly bedazzled fellow guests. The boat line neck is also trimmed with sequins; the sleeves are three-quarter in length and embroidered to the tip of the shoulder.

The back has a long detached trail also fully embroidered edged with blue and pink patterned sequins in the shape of pyramids. The Queen is depicted wearing a diamond tiara. This ensemble is further enriched by elaborate pearl necklace and matching earrings. Across the left shoulder the Queen is also shown wearing a royal sash - supported by a ruby and diamond jewel. This dress exemplifies Hartnell's skill in designing dresses with elaborate embroidery.

15) This design is a full-skirted tier dress with minute waist with tiered yoke forming puff short sleeves. The skirt is all threaded with light blue coloured ribbon which emphasises the different layers. The dress is worn with matching jewellery and gloves.

The second design in pink net has a pointed waist band which holds a full net skirt scattered with pale blue ribbon. The body has a small heart shaped decolté trimmed with the same blue ribbon and the sleeves are exaggerated short and puff. In addition there is a flower decoration on the left side of her neck.

16) This design for a formal evening dress was specially created for H.M. Queen Mary. The dress falls in a straight line with a slight trail at the back. The elongated v-neck line is trimmed with lace.

On top of the dress he created a loose jacket with sleeves trimmed with Mink fur and edged with lace. This luxurious ensemble is completed with a magnificent row of jewels at the neck and a sparkling tiara.

16) Norman Hartnell (1901-79), fashion design, London, 1930s. Museum no. E.19-1943

15) Norman Hartnell (1901-79), fashion design, London, 1930s. Museum no. E.15-1943

1940s

World War II had a profound effect on fashion and it became regulated and framed by government decrees. However, despite these strict regulations and the violent upheavals brought about by war, couture design, led by a talented group of dressmakers, flourished.

The New Look

'I designed clothes for flower-like women, with rounded shoulders, full feminine busts, and hand-span waists above enormous spreading skirts.'

It is with those words that Christian Dior (1905 - 57), described the impact of his first collection in the Spring of 1947. At the time, rationing was still in place and austere, military styles were worn. Dior introduced hourglass silhouettes and luxurious fabrics, softening previously boxy shoulder pads and cinching the waist for a pronounced feminine look. So popular was his first collection that it was dubbed 'the New Look' by the press and was instantly emulated by designers across the world.

17) Fashion design, by Marjorie Field for Field Rhoades, London, 1940s. Museum no. E.426-2005

17) This design by Marjorie Field depicts a woman wearing a tailored, printed suit and a large hat decorated with feathers on both sides. A double-row of buttons are sewn onto the waistline of the jacket giving an impression of a small waist. In her right hand, she holds an umbrella made out of the same material as the suit. Marjorie Field was a high-end London designer, who quickly adopted Dior's fashionable New Look silhouette into her designs.

18) Italian-born René Gruau (1909 - 2004) moved to Paris in 1924 and started his career as fashion illustrator in the most prestigious magazines, including L'Officiel and Marie Claire. His collaboration with Christian Dior started in 1947 and Gruau, who perfectly captured the essence of the New Look, soon became an acclaimed figure in the world of Haute Couture. This drawing was commissioned for the fashion magazine 'Femina' around 1949.

19) This is a design by Bernard Blossac (1917 - 2001). Blossac was a fashion illustrator, who regularly drew for Vogue, L'Officiel and Harper's Bazaar. This drawing depicts a black bolero with a floral pattern in the 'New Look' style.

18) René Gruau (1909-2004), fashion illustration, Paris, 1949. Museum no. E.397-1986

19) Bernard Blossac (1917-2001), fashion illustration, Paris or London, late 1940s. Museum no. E.167-1987

Marjorie Field

Marjorie Field (Field Rhoades), fashion design, London, 1940s. Museum no. E.430-2005

The V&A has a substantial collection of high quality designs by Marjorie Field for the couture firm Field Rhoades. The provenance of these designs can be traced back to Gwen Mandley, an artist and friend of the designer. Field Rhoades was registered in the London street directories at 77, South Audley Street, London W1 for the years 1948–49; this corresponds to the date of the designs found in this collection. Marjorie Field also designed under the name, or for the firm, 'Matita'. Matita were a high-end ready-to-wear company who regularly advertised in Vogue during the 1940s.

20) Fashion design, by Ursula Sternberg-Hertz, London, about 1947. Museum no. E.844-1989

Ursula Sternberg-Hertz

Ursula Sternberg-Hertz was a well respected painter who exhibited extensively in Europe and the US. In the 1940s, she submitted a competition entry to the Ascher textile firm in London, who were renowned for working with fine artists to create patterns and designs for silk scarves and furniture fabric. She won 3rd prize but worked for the Ascher Studio for a year and for many years as a free-lance designer.

20) This painted sketch of a fashionably dressed female figure decorates the front board of Ursula Sternberg Hertz's folder of designs for textiles and dress, oiginally submitted to Ascher as part of an entry competition. This bold and colourful board demonstrates the importance the designer gave to overall presentation. The inscriptions are in watercolour and read 'Sender Ursula Sternberg-Hertz London 30 Ch. De Boitsfort Bruxelles and Ascer Wigmore Street London'. The folder is held together with a green velvet ribbon.

1950s

Often associated with the rise of youthful, ready-to-wear fashions, the fifties were nevertheless a prolific and successful decade for the fashion 'establishment' as embodied by couture houses and traditional dressmakers. Fashion illustration continued to flourish in the plethora of magazines published at the time.

Sigrid Hunt

Sigrid Hunt (later Roesen) was a fashion illustrator and editor. She came to England from Berlin in the early 1930s and worked for prestigious publications including Vogue, Tatler, and The Sketch. From the late 1950s to 1971 she worked in Germany for the Sudkurrier Welt der Frau and Die Mode.

The various preparatory phases shown for the Tatler front cover of 5 May 1954 here illustrated are a good example of the process and various stages of magazine illustration.

Sigrid Hunt, pencil sketch, Britain, 1954. Museum no. E.687-1986

Front cover of Tatler, featuring design by Sigrid Hunt, 5 May 1954. Museum no. E.684-1986

Sigrid Hunt, colour design, Britain, 1954. Museum no. E.685-1986

Jean Demarchy

Jean Demarchy (dates unknown) was a 1950s fashion illustrator who worked in soft pastels to create romantic, abstract, images of couture. Arguably, illustrations such as these fitted better with the luxurious and feminine ideal of couture than photography. These illustrations, especially from the Stiebel collection of 1953, display some of those shared aesthetics in the way they convey the soft, tactile nature of the fabrics.

However, the privileged status of fashion drawing faded rapidly during the 1950s, and photography soon gained more prominence in post-war magazines that wanted harder-hitting imagery.

21) This image was drawn for Harper's Bazaar around 1955. It shows a glamorous evening dress by Christian Dior (1905–57), featuring a full skirt and elaborate bustle bow.

22) This illustration features an evening dress by the London couturier Victor Stiebel (1907-76), drawn for Harper's Bazaar in 1953. Stiebel liked using bold, contrasting stripes in his designs, and also typically referenced historical dress with voluminous panniers and bustles.

21) Jean Demarchy, fashion illustration, Paris or London, about 1955. Museum no. E.685-1997

22) Jean Demarchy, fashion illustration, London, 1953. Museum no. E.686-1997

1960s

Before the late 1950s and 1960s, teenagers were expected to dress and behave very much as their parents. The 'Swinging Sixties', however, saw the emergence of a new youth market as teenagers rebelled against the aesthetics and values of their parents' generation and established their own trends in fashion and music.

Amongst other things, the mini-skirt was introduced, and couture was seen as very old-fashioned. London - not Paris - was leading fashion now, nurtured by the city's fashion schools and colleges, who were providing creative environments for crops of young, talented designers.

Mary Quant

23) Mary Quant (b.1934), fashion design, London, mid 1960s. Museum no. E.520-1975

The daughter of Welsh school teachers, Mary Quant (born 1934) gained a diploma in Art Education from Goldsmith's College, London. There she met Alexander Plunket Green, who later became her business partner and husband. Apprenticed to a milliner, Quant began to make her own clothes. These were influenced by the Chelsea beatniks she knew and dance outfits she remembered from childhood lessons.

In 1955, at a time when 'fashion wasn't designed for young people', Quant opened Bazaar, a boutique on the King's Road. She devised eye-catching window displays to attract customers. Her clothes were made up of simple shapes combined with strong colours like scarlet, prune and green. Prices were low compared to those charged for haute couture.

Famed for popularising the mini skirt, in 1966 Quant was awarded an OBE. In the early 1960s her designs were bought by the chain store J.C. Penney to be mass produced for the American market. The Quant label began to appear worldwide on accessories and make-up.

23) This design has a liberty bodice, long narrow sleeves and a front vertical zip. The skirt is very short and trimmed on the edge with a yellow colour. The same colour tights are worn. There is a small baby collar and a very narrow belt with a front buckle. Mini skirts and dresses were a highly fashionable new trend in the late 1960s and continued for quite a while after this.

24) This bold design for a putty aubergine mini dress is made with a small liberty bodice with a full mini skirt attached to it. The top of the dress has a cow neck in yellow material inside and on the outside is beige with yellow.

There is a matching head scarf, belt and cuffs. Mini skirts and dresses were a highly fashionable new trend in the late 1960s and continued for quite a while after this.

25) In this design Mary Quant decided to ignore the waist and added a very short frill skirt attached to the body of the dress creating the 'mini' effect. The sleeves are very short and bounded by glace kid red leather. The main dress is made out of pink Jersey wool.

The collar and the front slit are all bounded by the same glace kid leather as the sleeves, the leather has brass eyelets to enable the threading of shoe lace type ribbon. Mini skirts and dresses were a highly fashionable new trend in the late 1960s and continued for quite a while after this.

24) Mary Quant (b.1934), fashion design, London, mid 1960s. Museum no. E.525-1975

25) Mary Quant (b.1934), fashion design, London, mid 1960s. Museum no. E.523-1975

1970s

The 1970s were a pioneering decade, and saw the evolution of fashion into a proclamation of individuality. Seen as the reflection of the taste of the wearer, one of the consequences of these sartorial changes, was that fashion increasingly, became the concern of men as well as women.

‘Manly Sweater’ fashion design, by Patrick Caulfield for Ritva, London, 1972. Museum no. E.413-2005

Ritva and Patrick Caulfield

The Ritva knitwear firm was set up by Mike and Ritva Ross in 1966, producing revolutionary machine-knitted womenswear in bold colours and slinky shapes. These were sold in some of the most fashionable department stores and King's Road boutiques, and from 1972, in the Ross's own shop.

A new direction in men's knitwear came in 1969 when Mike Ross designed a line of appliquéd 'Ritva Man's' sweaters inspired by baseball shirts (the V&A collection includes a prototype, Museum no. T.14-2000). Each sweater was unique, with its own colourway.

This led to the Artist Collections of 1971 and 1972, when Ross invited artist friends, including David Hockney and Elizabeth Frink, to design 'wearable works of art'.

What Is Fashion Illustration

Artist Patrick Caulfield's (1936-2005) 'Manly Sweater', with its appliquéd leather patches and 'trompe l'oeil' pipe, is an ironic version of traditional 1950s masculinity. The V&A has also acquired Caulfield's original drawings for the sweater and seen together these represent an unusual document of a collaboration between art and fashion.

This coloured pencil drawing on paper includes an element of collage. One smaller piece of paper with a single drawing is mounted on a larger piece of paper with further drawings. Drawings depict various versions of a pipe and breast pocket. One breast pocket drawing also depicts an image of a bird. Some annotations on black pencil, including the artist's name and title 'P C Manly sweater'.

Patrick Caulfield (1936-2005) for Ritva, ‘Manly Sweater’ fashion design, London, 1972. Museum no. E.414-2005

Patrick Caulfield (1936-2005) for Ritva, ‘Manly Sweater’, London, 1972. Museum no. T.18-2000

John Bates

A prolific and innovative designer, John Bates (b.1938) often incorporated metallic, plastic and transparent fabrics in his creations. He is perhaps best remembered as the designer of Diana Rigg's wardrobe for the television series The Avengers in 1965.

26) This 1978 dress in silk is an interesting design with square shoulders and blouson body and an intricate cut full skirt. There is a tie belt around the waist and the sleeves have flare cuffs similar to the high collar.

27) This 1974 design is for a long printed Kaftan with an undulated bottom. The sides are finished with tassels. The print is particularly beautiful and individual you can see the detail of stylised flowers and birds. This is complemented by edge stitching around the Kaftan. The exotic element to this design makes it particularly striking.

26) John Bates (b.1938), fashion design, London, 1978. Museum no. E.570-1975

27) John Bates (b.1938), fashion design, London, 1974. Museum no. E.569-1975

Zandra Rhodes

A graduate of the Royal College of Art, Zandra Rhodes (b.1940) became famous for her prints on chiffon, and her use of flamboyant, bright colours. Her designs were considered too extravagant by British manufacturers and she set up her own retail outlet on Fulham Road, London, in 1969. Rhodes' extravagant appearance and style often attracted considerable publicity. She is credited with having introduced Punk fashions to the fashion industry with her 1977 collection entitled Punk Chic.

Zandra Rhodes (b.1940), design for a fur coat, London, 1970s. Museum no. C.282-1974

Zandra Rhodes (b.1940), design for a fur coat, London, 1970s. Museum no. C.286-1974.

Bill Gibb

28) Bill Gibb (1943-88), fashion design, London, 1970. Museum no. E.123-1978

Bill Gibb (1943–88) was a fashion designer whose creations defined the 1970s look. He opened his boutique Alice Paul in Kensington in 1967 and first designed for the youth market, with clean lines that bore the imprint of contemporary trends. In the 1970s, his style developed along eclectic and romantic lines inspired by the hippie scene and by medieval and pre-Raphaelite painting.

28) This is a fashion design for a long pleated skirt, long-sleeved blouse, laced jerkin and cloche hat, with two fabric samples attached. This design featured in Vogue in 1970, and the Sunday Times amongst other magazines. This design shows how different wool fabrics are used with contrast colour and pattern.

29) Jacket design with beret.

30) This is a design for a printed leather and suede pattern jacket with a hood. The Patterns seem influenced by ethnic designs. Other designs in the later 70s started to use a mixture of different fabrics and colour, for example leather with chiffon) This design is a good example of how leather was processed in a more fashionable and colourful way during this period.

29) Bill Gibb (1943-88), fashion design, London, 1976. Museum no. E.127-1978

30) Bill Gibb (1943-88), fashion design, London, 1976. Museum no. E.128-1978.

Fashion Figure Illustration

1980s

The increasing profile of women in the work place required a new fashion aesthetic, and the decade witnessed the emergence of 'Power Dressing'. Wide, padded shoulders became fashionable and women's clothes were inspired by masculine fashion and tailoring traditions. The period also saw the display of lavish evening wear, as exemplified by the opulent dresses of Oscar de la Renta.

Oleg Cassini

Oleg Cassini (1913–2006) was a prominent American fashion designer who famously dressed Jackie Kennedy, during her years in the White House. Cassini also had a lucrative ready-to-wear and licensing business with a wide range of branded accessories and cosmetics.

Fashion design, by Oleg Cassini, United States, 1988. Museum no. E.25-2000

Fashion design, by Oleg Cassini, United States, 1988. Museum no. E.24-2000

Bill Gibb

The drawing below right shows a design for the pop star Lynsey de Paul, for her performance at the Royal Variety Show, 1986. It is executed in colour wash, black ink and felt tip pen. By this time, Gibb's business was failing and this design may be one of his last.

Fashion design, by Bill Gibb, London, 1986. Museum no. E.522-1993

Costume design, by Bill Gibb, London, 1986. Museum no. E.523-1993

Antoni & Alison

The London based fashion design duo, Antoni & Alison, are Antoni Burakowski and Alison Roberts. They met in 1982 when studying fashion at St Martin's college. They are known for their eclectic and playful designs, including ranges of slogan and vacuum packed T-shirts.

Antoni & Alison, fashion design, London, late 1980s. Museum no. E.679.2-1997

Antoni & Alison, fashion design, London, late 1980s. Museum no. E.680.2-1997

Antoni & Alison, fashion design, London, late 1980s. Museum no. E.679.2-1997

Manolo Blahnik

Manolo Blahnik (b. 1942) is one of the most prominent and successful shoe designers of his age. His creations were famously immortalised in episodes of Sex and the City, and his name is now synonymous with luxurious and exquisitely designed shoes. He was awarded an honorary title of Commander of the British Empire in the Queen's 2007 Birthday Honours List, for services to the British fashion industry.

These designs are for ladies shoes, for possible production by Zapata Shoes Ltd, London, 1980.

Pencil Drawing Fashion Illustration

Manolo Blahnik (b.1942), design for a shoe, Britain, 1980. Museum no. E.1334-1979

Manolo Blahnik (b.1942), design for a shoe, Britain, 1980. Museum no. E.1331-1979

Pencil Drawing Fashion Illustrations

Manolo Blahnik (b.1942), design for a shoe, Britain, 1980. Museum no. E.1332-1979

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