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m8tee-mate · 4 months

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"Cacti Couture: M8tee's Desert-Approved Fashion Revolution"

I. Introduction

In the realm of fashion, a new revolution is unfurling – one that takes inspiration from the arid beauty of the desert and blends it seamlessly with urban sophistication. Welcome to the world of Cacti Couture, spearheaded by none other than the trailblazing brand, M8tee.

II. The Birth of Cacti Couture

A. M8tee's Vision

M8tee's journey into the realm of desert-approved fashion began with a visionary quest. The brand sought to redefine style by drawing inspiration from the resilient and unique aesthetics of the desert landscape.

B. Desert-Inspired Aesthetics

Every stitch in Cacti Couture tells a story. The hues, textures, and patterns are meticulously curated to reflect the raw beauty of the desert. It's not just fashion; it's an homage to nature's artistry.

III. Behind the Scenes: Crafting Desert-Approved Fashion

A. Sustainable Fabric Choices

M8tee takes pride in its commitment to sustainability. The brand carefully selects eco-friendly fabrics, ensuring that each piece not only elevates style but also minimizes environmental impact.

B. Artisanal Manufacturing Processes

The magic happens in the hands of skilled artisans who bring each design to life. M8tee's commitment to artisanal craftsmanship ensures that every garment is a masterpiece, reflecting the spirit of the desert.

IV. Exploring M8tee's Signature Collections

A. "Prickly Elegance" Series

Dive into the "Prickly Elegance" series, where the marriage of sophistication and desert vibes takes center stage. Each piece in this collection is a testament to the fusion of high fashion and natural allure.

B. "Sands of Style" Collection

The "Sands of Style" collection is a celebration of minimalism with a desert twist. Unearth the beauty in simplicity as M8tee introduces timeless pieces that transcend seasons.

V. M8tee's Commitment to Environmental Responsibility

A. Eco-Friendly Packaging

M8tee extends its commitment to the environment beyond fashion. The brand's packaging is eco-friendly, ensuring that every element aligns with the ethos of sustainable living.

B. Carbon-Neutral Operations

In an era where carbon footprints matter, M8tee goes the extra mile by embracing carbon-neutral operations. It's not just fashion; it's a responsibility towards the planet.

VI. Desert Fashion on the Rise

A. Embracing Minimalism

Cacti Couture is a testament to the beauty of simplicity. The trend towards minimalism resonates with those seeking a wardrobe that exudes elegance without excess.

B. Cacti Couture Influencing Runways

What starts in the desert doesn't stay in the desert. M8tee's influence is making its mark on runways globally, as designers look towards the desert for inspiration.

VII. The M8tee Shopping Experience

A. Navigating the M8tee Website

Embark on your journey into Cacti Couture by navigating the user-friendly M8tee website. The seamless interface ensures a hassle-free shopping experience.

B. Shop Now: M8tee's Desert-Approved Fashion

Immerse yourself in the desert fashion revolution. Explore the captivating collections and make a statement with each carefully curated piece. Click here to shop now.

VIII. Customer Testimonials

A. Voices from the Desert

The real essence of Cacti Couture lies in the experiences of those who embrace it. Hear from customers who have found a connection with the brand, echoing the desert spirit in their daily lives.

B. Community Buzz

Join the community buzzing with excitement about Cacti Couture. Social media platforms are abuzz with discussions, styling tips, and shared moments celebrating the uniqueness of M8tee's creations.

IX. Styling Tips for Cacti Couture

A. Day-to-Night Transitions

Discover the versatility of Cacti Couture as we share tips on seamlessly transitioning from day to night, effortlessly blending desert aesthetics with urban chic.

B. Accessorizing with Desert Flair

Enhance your desert-approved look with accessories that capture the essence of the arid landscape. From subtle nods to bold statements, learn how to accessorize with desert flair.

X. The Future of Cacti Couture

A. Emerging Trends

As the fashion landscape evolves, Cacti Couture paves the way for emerging trends. Stay ahead of the curve and explore what the future holds for this captivating fashion movement.

B. M8tee's Visionary Outlook

M8tee doesn't just follow trends; it sets them. Delve into the brand's visionary outlook, where the desert serves as a perennial muse for timeless and innovative designs.

XI. Embracing the Cacti Couture Lifestyle

A. Beyond Fashion: A Movement

Cacti Couture is not just about clothing; it's a lifestyle. Explore how this fashion movement extends beyond the wardrobe, influencing choices and fostering a deeper connection with nature.

B. Connecting with the Desert Spirit

Immerse yourself in the desert spirit. Learn how adopting the Cacti Couture lifestyle means embracing the resilience, beauty, and authenticity of the desert in every aspect of life.

XII. Sustainability in the Fashion Industry

A. M8tee's Impact

In an era where sustainability is paramount, M8tee's impact on the fashion industry is noteworthy. Discover how the brand's commitment to eco-friendly practices is shaping the future of fashion.

B. Influencing Global Practices

M8tee is not just a brand; it's a beacon of change. Explore how the brand's practices are influencing global fashion standards, paving the way for a more sustainable and responsible industry.

XIII. Challenges and Triumphs

A. Navigating the Fashion Landscape

Behind the scenes, the journey to establish Cacti Couture wasn't without challenges. Delve into the brand's triumphs and the lessons learned while navigating the ever-evolving fashion landscape.

B. Celebrating Successes

Every challenge met is a step toward success. Celebrate the victories and milestones that define M8tee's remarkable journey in revolutionizing the fashion industry.

XIV. Cacti Couture and Social Media

A. Instagram's Role in the Desert Revolution

Explore the pivotal role Instagram plays in amplifying the desert revolution. From stunning visuals to behind-the-scenes moments, witness how social media platforms are propelling Cacti Couture into the spotlight.

B. Influencers Shaping Trends

Meet the influencers who are not just wearing Cacti Couture but actively shaping fashion trends. Their unique styles and the resonance they create on social media platforms contribute to the global appeal of desert-approved fashion.

XV. The Global Appeal of Cacti Couture

A. International Recognition

Cacti Couture is not confined by borders. Dive into the international recognition garnered by M8tee's creations and witness how desert-approved fashion is making waves on a global scale.

B. Cacti Couture Across Borders

From the runways of Paris to the streets of Tokyo, Cacti Couture transcends cultural boundaries. Discover how this unique fashion movement is embraced across borders, becoming a symbol of global style.

Conclusion

In a world where fashion is often synonymous with excess, Cacti Couture stands as a testament to the beauty of simplicity and sustainability. M8tee's desert-approved revolution has not only redefined fashion but has become a movement that transcends clothing, inspiring a lifestyle that connects with the authenticity of the desert spirit.

FAQs (Frequently Asked Questions)

Q1: Where can I purchase Cacti Couture? A: You can explore and purchase the latest Cacti Couture collections directly from M8tee's online store.

Q2: Are M8tee's packaging materials environmentally friendly? A: Yes, M8tee is committed to sustainability, and their packaging materials are eco-friendly, aligning with the brand's dedication to environmental responsibility.

Q3: How can I join the Cacti Couture community? A: Engage with fellow enthusiasts on social media platforms using the hashtag #CactiCouture. Share your experiences, styling tips, and connect with like-minded individuals who embrace the desert spirit.

Q4: Does M8tee ship internationally? A: Yes, M8tee offers international shipping, allowing fashion enthusiasts from around the world to embrace the desert-approved revolution.

Q5: What sets Cacti Couture apart from other fashion trends? A: Cacti Couture goes beyond trends; it's a lifestyle. The brand's commitment to sustainability, timeless designs, and a deeper connection with nature distinguish it from conventional fashion movements.

SHOP NOW: https://m8tee.com/ FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61550856475597 INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/__m8tee/

#usa #fashion #style #m8tee #m8teemagic #streetwear #arizona #urbanwear #menswear #united states #branding

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ishmums-blog · 4 months

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Silhouettes Unveiled: The Beauty of Shadow Creation

Silhouettes, those exquisite profiles born from the interplay of light and darkness, have held an enduring fascination throughout history. In the realm of art, the allure of shadow creation has captivated artists and audiences alike, showcasing a beauty that emerges from the absence of color and detail. In this exploration, we'll journey through the historical roots, contemporary significance, techniques, symbolism, and the profound impact of silhouettes on various art forms.

I. The Artistry of Silhouettes

Silhouettes, deriving their name from Étienne de Silhouette, a French finance minister known for his penny-pinching measures in the 18th century, have evolved into an art form celebrated for its simplicity and elegance. While their origins date back centuries, it wasn’t until the 18th and 19th centuries that silhouettes gained popularity as a form of portraiture for the masses. Contrasting sharply against a light background, these shadowy figures captured the essence of their subjects with striking simplicity.

II. The Evolution of Shadow Art

From the early days of profiles cut from paper to modern techniques incorporating digital technology, the evolution of shadow art has been remarkable. Artists like Auguste Edouart and Hubert Leslie perfected the traditional silhouette-cutting technique, while contemporary creators push boundaries using light, projections, and innovative materials to craft intricate and immersive shadow installations.

III. Techniques and Tools in Shadow Creation

Creating silhouettes requires a deep understanding of light, contrast, and negative space. Traditional methods involve manually cutting paper or using various mediums to cast shadows. Modern advancements have introduced digital manipulation, allowing for intricate designs and intricate layering. The choice of light source, the angle of illumination, and the material used all contribute to the final composition of the silhouette.

IV. Symbolism and Cultural Significance

Silhouettes hold symbolic significance across cultures. In some traditions, they represent anonymity or mystery, while in others, they're linked to storytelling and folklore. The simplicity of a silhouette allows viewers to project their interpretations, making them a versatile form of expression in both art and communication.

V. Applications and Versatility

Beyond artistic expression, silhouettes find their way into diverse fields. They’re employed in photography, film, graphic design, and even practical uses like signage and branding. Their adaptability and ability to evoke emotion make them a powerful tool in visual storytelling.

VI. Contemporary Trends and Innovations

The digital age has brought forth a renaissance in shadow art. Artists fuse technology and traditional techniques, creating immersive experiences through interactive installations and multimedia presentations. Projection mapping, augmented reality, and 3D printing have expanded the possibilities, blurring the lines between reality and imagination.

VII. Challenges and Limitations

Despite its allure, shadow creation comes with challenges. Achieving intricate details in silhouettes can be demanding, and the manipulation of light and shadow requires precision. Moreover, the simplistic nature of silhouettes can sometimes limit the depth of expression compared to more detailed art forms.

VIII. Conclusion: The Timeless Allure of Shadow Creation

In conclusion, silhouettes stand as a testament to the beauty found in simplicity. They offer a canvas where imagination meets subtlety, allowing viewers to engage and interpret in a deeply personal way. As technology advances and artists continue to innovate, the allure of shadow creation persists, captivating audiences and ensuring its enduring place in the vast tapestry of art.

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fierautami · 7 months

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Simplicity in Denny Ja 20: Lotre of Life is Chosen Work

Denny Ja, a famous Indonesian writer, has given birth to many works that are inspired by many people. One of the prominent chosen works is the life lottery. In this work, Denny JA raised the theme of simplicity so beautifully and stunning. In this article, we will explore various aspects of simplicity in the selected Denny JA 20: Lotre of Life that inspires. I. Introduction In this increasingly complex world, simplicity becomes something rare and difficult to find. However, Denny JA is able to describe the beauty of simplicity through his meaning full of meaning. Live lottery is a clear example of how simplicity can have a deep impact on our lives. II. Why is simplicity important? Simplicity is a very important quality in modern life. In a fast -paced world and material, simplicity is a way to find peace and happiness. In the work of the life lottery, Denny Ja conveyed the message that true happiness does not lie in material things, but rather on simplicity and appreciation of what we have. III. Digging messages in life lottery In the life lottery, Denny Ja invites us to reflect on the meaning of life and how we can find true happiness. Through the story of the main character, Denny Ja described the journey of an ordinary man who discovered happiness through simplicity. The important message conveyed is that abundant life does not always bring happiness, and often simplicity is the key to finding meaning in life. IV. Beauty in simplicity Simplicity can be found in many aspects of life, such as in relationships, work, and lifestyle. Denny Ja describes the beauty in simplicity through a picture of simple places, such as rural or warm small houses. This teaches us that true happiness does not always lies in big and luxurious things, but at simple moments that we can enjoy every day. V. Inspiring Through Simplicity In the work of the life lottery, Denny Ja was able to inspire the reader through the messages of simplicity he conveyed. This work teaches us to appreciate what we have, find happiness in small things, and take time to reflect on the meaning of life. In a world full of pressure and anxiety, works such as life lottery are a source of valuable inspiration for many people. VI. Conclusion Simplicity is a strong and inspiring theme in Denny Ja 20: Live Lotre. Through this work, Denny Ja invites us to reflect on the meaning of life and find happiness through simplicity. The messages in this work can be a guide for us in dealing with the complexity of modern life and find peace in simplicity. In this changing and increasingly complex world, works such as life lotterys are reminders for us to simplify life, respect small things, and find happiness through simplicity. Denny Ja 20: Live Lotre is a valuable gift for all of us, inviting us to appreciate a simple life and find true meanings in life.

Check in full: Simplicity in Denny JA 20: Lotre of life that inspires

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mindbleeds · 1 year

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Notebooks found after flood 12/27/22

Focused on good steps

See how easily your mind can shift

Going from negative and questioning

To authentic sturdy positivity

It seems trivial at times, when really its just a misconception of the value in being/keeping simplicity

A bit past three and there is nobody around. A little fucked up, here silence is the loudest sound. Becoming better and making changes. A bit distraught I am just filling up these lines on these pages. Repeating how im not good enough for him. A sea of thoughts that I am drowingng in. If I told you that things get better then Id be lying. Dont know how to make this all right again, but im trying. When the breeze picks up, I hope to drift away. And when the pain sets in, I hope you choose to stay

Tonight I wont sleep. Keep me awake in your dreams. Tomorrow might give reason as to what this all means. For now, this porch is a santuary. And one more sleepless night reinstills my obscure sanity

Here I stand, commencing a peaceful celebration at the edge of this continent. It happens every single morning and night.

Mother Nature provides us with moments to remain in

Filled with music, lights, and entertain ment

All we have to do is be present

Give back to her the gift of whole hearted embracement

See the natural beauty of all of earths creations

Surrounding you

And find

Youre one of them as well

We stood at the edge of what we had imagined forever might feel like

We found shelther in a cave where darkness and the cold became our home. We came to love it and came to know what the other on of us was

I couldnt hold these words for you any longer

They all held remnants of so many honeysuckle sunsets

That led to nights of staying up far too late

I thought you werent meant to say things like “sleep well babe” to people that didnt matter

But you do

You did

And so I did

And now all thats left are all of these heavy baskets I was forced to bring in off from the front porch

Sheilding them from getting wet and potentially smearing

In case you might need something from them again

But I need to give them back today

Got to let them go and weave a new basket

All these baskets that are filled with left over remnants of honeysuckle sunsets and pine needle nights

On a foggy beach, misty afternoon. The empty shore goes further than my eyes can see. Footprints from the early risers on their morning beach-jogs. Riddled with craters from heavy raindrops hitting. The ocean is a deeper navy than im used to seeing and its extra foamy. As it washes up it leaves little trinkets along the coast for beach goers to collect and give to loved ones. I come across a shell thats perfectly unweathered. I hold it in my palm for a minute and admire its natural beauty then I toss it back into the ocean and I make a wish

Barefooted where the water washes up and over my unpainted toenails of my tatted foot. Its picturesque the way that I sink in deeper with each rise and drift of the tide. For such a chillu early spring day the water is warm. On the horizon cargo ships move along. I always wonder what they are carrying and where its going to. I wonder if people think the same things as I do. A few people pass by, they simple and I smile too.

I move a little ways from the water and up onto a lifeguard tower. From here I can see the city through the fog. I stay here for a while until I remember my peace. Long enough for the mist to go away and for teh gaurds to tell me Ive got to go. I breathe in the salty air. And draw a picture in the sand. Wash mu feet before I get to the parking lot, and into my car. A quiet drive back to shleter and my bed. Tonight I will rest easy. Thanks to the ocean once again

Greedy eyes better look away. See how they long to step inside my mind without an invitation and I cant break from the state of flux im in where I am drowning out all distractions and building up this creative vision

Grateful just to be livin unlimited and elevated. Forming word clusters resonating with my soul of an indigo hue vibrating higher feel what I can do

Laying it down. Countless times. Consider this a refresher

Let the beauty come pouring out. Long enough it has been running through my veins. Undneath all this pain a sparkle remained in both of my eyes on the most unexpected of days, it became known again. It was that little bit of magic that kept me and still keeps me going.

To know that in the midst of everything, magic can happen, wounds heal, grace saves, and it is possible for something liek you to search so deep within yourself- not to find any sort of answer but to discover further and more in depth who you are and what you are here to bring to the world. So that in everything you do it is eveyrhitng you are. And you do it so humbly even angels admire it. You are waking up into something more

Connected surpassing all the times I felt neglected

You’re here, right?

Say you rage so hard, right?

Time to put that mentality to the test

Im the neutral party here

Youre the one who’s working the show

Im living and listening

Gotta vent? Get it out

Trying to just shove it all on me? Cut that shit now

Look twice

But dont question even once

Actually really living without regrets

Giving zero fucks, actually

Few are capable of handling me

My ppl know when to leave it alone

And I give it back ten fold their direction

See I show up

Not only for you regularly

But also for me

Selfish

But look how I radiate

Sit back and question

How could I do it any other way

Than this one

This right here counts

Real is what matters

Theyll turn to view the artist

Find goodness and beauty along the way

Seeking it out

On display

In a gloomy distraught place

New creators will find their voices

Visionaries will be forced to adjust in the shift

Into alignment with natures message

Theyll be the ones who interpret it

This is what we need

To feel lonely, overwhelmed

Totally clueless about what will happen

For somewhere in that. Fear and desparation

We are bound to discover a newfound hope

So feel what youre feeling

Stay plugged in

Take breaks and remember to

Breathe

I know we will get to a better tomorrow eventually

Rest now

Take it one day at a time

Sure, youre inside

But are you going to look outside of yourself or go and lock the front door

Look out your window and feel lucky enough to have shelter?

Will it all go back to normal like ti was or is this our chance to redefine normal”? Will you let the anxieties of being completely not in control define and dictace your days or can you pause to know every person is feeling thatanxiety to varying degrees? Wake up to the goodness buried in there

(About 2020)

Sit down take a secodn feel the ground take a breath in and hold it still 1 2 3 4 now let it out

Its a mystery whats left to come thats why I love it

I let myself fall deeply into some of the most unassuming moments

Wouldnt call it something beautiful but theres something great about it

It doesnt happen on purpose

Its only real to me when it unintentionally happens

Force makes it feel fake

This is the push of the universe. Im reciebing gifts I dont deserve

Writing about what im feeling is probably good

Putting it into words- I tend to jump and overanalyze/. Theres a pandemic happening and somehow I dont feel all that panicked- its odd but this isnt about me

Speak only when its time to say checkmate

Write in silence

Gotta let me

E s c a p e

Into that void

This empty space

No time

Total lack of linear structure

Where I find

Whats incomprehendable to a simple mind

All I know is that this one thing right here

See,

This

Mine

She does the work and does whats right. Reads up on Jesus to celebrate easter with her family respectfully though to the norm (nam?) she respectfully declines. heartwarmth she is the buddha in the studio.

Run it. Make me ratchet. Make it crave it till I ask please can I have it

He settles for what he can take

All that he makes

Gets swept away

Hes always running towards heartbreak

Cause its his own

Hes out to shake

She wants so badly to let him in

Hes wearing thing

Her chest caves in

And so does his

One final leap

Today begins

Sunlight

Golden beams hit my body

Shadows on my ribs

Craters and waves

The ocean, my soft skin

When its broken down be motivated by the sounds - like how when it stops in the surroundings- still we create- loud

Containment makes it worse

Theyre like “do this”

Meanwhile im trying to explain how hard it is to write relevantly but how easy it is to write about a bathroom door

Indeed

Now that Ive found him there is no sense In making myself be grounded

Know that when its forever

It just keeps getting better

I tried to wrap my head around coincidenece

Couldnt make sense of it

Then I met him

The calm of letting things go

Breathing, feeling, living and feeling whole on my own

Its all because he found me

So many weights disappeared and were lifted

I sort of always knew that Im gifted

Searching for that gifts purpose

Could I return it?

Give it back to the betterment of whatever is left thats still good?

When I come back

I reiterate

It isnt over yet

Matter of face

This is only jsut the start

Soo ill take on my role

Quite literally play my part

Selfish as it seems from your perspective

This is always for you

Not me

Drip

Drift

Descend

Fall

Fade away into Neverland

Wild dreams that speak

Are filtered

Outrageous thoughts

Deemed too controversial

Well im craving an uproar

Desiring the upside down

Pray that we lose all sense of normal

To be forced into a new right side up

Maybe then

People change

Maybe then

Weve still got a fighting chance

To make this a better place

When its my turn to speak

Listen from a “all the past is erased” point of view

Im here to say

We can make it happen

Youve got to be with me the whole way

Is the ceiling caving in or is it exploding?

Feeling weightless yet grounded in the moment

I lost track of all the days last week

I think

That Ive got no clue what im even really thinking

But when im just feeling like this

It feels so right to just go with it

I move

Are you with me

Pray you dont ever forget

Its me who is in charge

Of the pace of this

The ebbs and flows

The waves youve been riding

Thats all me

Always will be

Always has been

There is no next step

There is only here

There is only now

Just this moment

To take up residency in

At a table

Surrounded by a bunch of tall grass

And weeds

The light is shining down, you can see it really clearly

The river thats ahead is canopied by trees and the birds on all the wispy branches are out there singing the songs that they sing

I am intricately interwoven

Into this tapestry of life

Some days I know exactly what I am doing and where I am going

Other days I have absolutely no ideas

This does not slow me down becasue I trust the process of it all

I carry a sack full of goals and ambitions with me. I dream alot. Visions are what I feel I can hold onto. They get clearer the more time I devote to developing them. The more I alloow myself to jsut be, the more abundant they/it becomes. The more that I surrender to the wild excitement that comes along with living, the happier and calmer I become. I am opening myself up to more movement with no real expectation fo what that might lead me to. I am worthy of this journey. I am here

I am willing

And I am always ready to take on whatever life hands me

The smell of the river mixed with bug spray

The red cardinal waiting for me patiently at the front door

Calm and at ease

Pleasant

My head rests on my knee

A fresh start

Still it sort of seems the same

Im learning the value in that

How to not just shy away

How to allow

Take in

Hold on

Feel

Impact

Let go

Release

Reverberate within the atmosphere

Its sort of smelly here

Then again, so am I

My god its been a while since Ive been able to just sit back and relax

Like we used to do back when we still felt like kids

Feels like ages since back then, hard to believe how much weve grown

But im so glad that we grew the way we have

I know that nothing can erase the past

No substnace is gonna change what is fact

Im okay with all of that

I wont ever deny whats true or withold any of the details of my story and struggle

I stand by saying all I did had to be done

I feel like I might be capable of getting this message through and across

You cannot blame yourself for being guarded.

Closing off

For protecting your once-soft heart that over time was hardened

I know its hard, that people can be mean

They can backstab and betray you. I know its easier to just get up and walk away than it is to wait around for someone when youve become so accustomed to how they all leave. I cant promise you that everyday will be sprinkled with magic and glitter but I can tell you that one day, the right ones will come along, and youll know theyre the right ones to come because they are the ones who will stay.

Proud of how you have fought to not push them away

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wondermentishere · 2 years

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i feel like experiences im having at work are metaphors for my discovery of self right now. so i work at amazon, right? yeah yeah, i know, i work for the devil lol. im not happy to be here but its slowly giving me some stability to get myself together. i work at an xl location that has smaller routes but bigger packages than usual. this experience has been so interesting to me because of how intimate its required me to be with men. keep in mind that i havent been this surrounded by and close to men since my childhood. ive been a helper of drivers for the last 3 months and this position has allowed me to see how men work in partnerships, how strong and organized they are, what they think on a daily basis, and how they are treated by others. im pleasantly surprised at the simplicity of their minds and how they be chilling for the most part. there are things & people i take issue with, but ive been pretty successful at managing myself and navigating relationships in ways i see fit. also, im comfortable with certain aspects of how men are treated, but i cant ignore the abuse they fail to confront either. (ill make a separate post about this eventually)

ive come to realize that ive been quietly comparing myself to my coworkers because of my new found gender identity. realizing i may be a man has thrust me into an abyss of curiosity and im dedicated to studying them harder than ever before. ive come to realize that im really not all that different. we’re all individuals, of course, but my demeanor and patterns align with them pretty well. as a helper i felt like i was taking a backseat and allowing other people to control how my workday went. i withdrew and was often on my phone, not really engaged with reality, which started to take a toll on me. in a way, i feel like thats how presenting as a girl feels for me. i cant help to have an dissociative attitude when im in this form and its clear im not fulfilling my full potential. i can feel myself playing a role instead of being who i am in this position. the day i decided i wanted more money and was ready to take on responsibility, i felt a light switch in my brain. now that im a driver and in control i feel so much less sluggish and… i guess submissive to forces around me. i call the shots and i have no problem being assertive and engaged. im pretty good at this role and my manager often echoes how sufficient i am compared to my peers (men) i work with. im sorry but… theres something about being told im better than a man that makes me smile. deep down inside im not interested in being compared to anyone, but im happy to know that i can hold my own.

this is how i know transitioning will feel for me. of course women are not “helpers” or submissive people by nature, but this is just how i feel being defaulted into this identity. i feel pathetic, dishonest, and disempowered. i am not a woman and i need to stand in that so i can get the most out of life. my soul is prepared to deal with whatever comes after or because my declaration. i just feel so ready and confident for life. this is who i am. a dream i had a couple days ago confirmed the peace transitioning & presenting masculine would bring to me. for the past couple of weeks ive just been stumped on imagining myself on t. its been discouraging me a little bit because i cant picture me transformed. in the dream realm i was introduced to this almost bald person wearing red with the *most* gentle spirit ive ever met. never have i ever felt so calm in the presence of another human being. i asked questions and they answered swiftly and with ease. i woke up and realized that that was me. my heart was warmed instantly and i cant shake the feeling i felt around that figure. they were an absolutely beautiful person and i no longer fear what i will come to look like on t. its just great! lately ive been exposed to more of the health risks testosterone causes and had to, for the first time, think seriously on the reality of me ever becoming a parent. ive come to the conclusion that ill do whatever is necessary to upkeep my transition and if i never have kids i am okay with it (even though i love children).

#diary #trans journey

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slavghoul · 2 years

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Hi slavghoul! First of all, I'm a big fan of yours, always a pleasure to read you. You talked earlier this day about some reviewer talking about "Darkness at the heart of my love", which review or interview is that? I can't find it. Thanks <3

Thank you kindly! :))) Yes I haven't posted it yet. It is also from Sweden Rock. A very good review too - 9/10. The nitty gritty, that is, the song descriptions, are towards the middle of the text.

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Tobias Forge is undeniably a skilled communicator. Ghost is all about grand gestures, gigantic megalomania and a confidence that only a madman can match. It's easy to lose your breath even before the music takes over. Or as Papa Emeritus IV sings in the brilliant Watcher In The Sky - "Communication is key". Yes, no question about it. The key to skilful storytelling is to build the myth of yourself so that everyone gets the joke. With that attitude, you can get as far as you want.

In the book "The Rule Of Empires: Those Who Built Them, Those Who Endured Them, And Why They Always Fall", author Timothy Parsons, professor of history at St Louis University, takes the approach of exploring how ordinary people experienced imperial rule. Narratively, of course, there is an endless stream of inspiration to be drawn from the subject. I've read bits and pieces of the book and opinions differ among those who have experienced and endured a life ruled from the top by the high and mighty. The satisfaction of seeing them plunged into the abyss is undeniably there.

Creating an album in that context doesn't just mean looking back in history. Our present is tainted by stubborn powers that squirm with childishness at the slightest insult. It's an ongoing contest about who is perceived as the biggest, best and most beautiful. The book has been an inspiration for Tobias Forge's latest reincarnation of his satanic pope and his minions - Nameless Ghouls.

In Sweden Rock Magazine, of course, Papa Emeritus IV is the behemoth - bigger than all the world's leaders. Just check out the cover of this magazine. It's panache from head to toe. Or why not analyse the cover of the new album "Impera"? The papal statue has proportions on a par with the Statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower. Looking to the left, the surrounding buildings seem minimalist by comparison. Delusions of grandeur - check.

So, after the ravages of Black Death on 2018's "Prequelle", it's time to put back the papal robes and run through the historical ruins of the empires. And it is an absolutely fantastic journey that, after the tired consequences of the pandemic, can now finally be experienced. There's virtually not a trace here of the trite gestures found in the song disappointments "Kiss The Go-Goat" and "Mary On A Cross", released on the single "Seven Inches Of Satanic Panic" in 2019. It feels amazingly good that they were just parentheses. The problem with them was that they lacked context. They were loosely woven compositions without a whole to lean on. Ghost is an album band and needs a setting. And with one, the result is as transformative as it is unusual. Music, production, cover and performance - absolute world class.

First comes “Kaisarion” and right away we are transposed back to the 80s. "Spillways" continues with a tinkling piano, soaring guitars and of course a melody to hang tons of weight on. It's easy to get sucked into the volatile arrangements. The first single "Call Me Little Sunshine" quickly materialized into a pitch-black mid-tempo song to be loved straight through. The little gritty guitar interludes are magical in their simplicity.

In the context of empires crumbling like houses of cards, "Hunter's Moon" can be seen as the black sheep of the album. But put the song, part of the soundtrack to the 2021 film "Halloween Kills," in the sick context of Michael Myers, and it perfectly fits the cock-of-the-walk attitude as well. Again, a song that stands with at least half its body in the 80s.

It's about here that things get really hot in Tobias Forge's empire factory. The aforementioned "Watcher In The Sky" is a hit of gigantic proportions. Chugging guitars and a chorus well worthy of someone with world domination as a goal. Right on the mark. "Twenties" is an odd bird that breaks off the beat and tone quite considerably - a bit like "Cirice" does on "Meliora" (2015). Variety is good for you.

"Darkness At The Heart Of My Love" is the album’s big ballad that will hug you until you're a puddle of tears on the floor, then the Van Halen pastiche "Griftwood” recharges your batteries. Join us for another trip back to the decade most of us adore anyway.

If you're still down on the floor, it's time to get up and fuel up for the grand finale. In 'Respite On The Spitalfields', Forge is firing on all cylinders. The song is to Ghost what "Still Of The Night" is to Whitesnake. Sultry and utterly wonderful. As the guitars ride out in the song's final seconds, several planets align just right. Like I said, world class and an impressive nine. Second in a row, too.

/Original Swedish text by Jonathan Strandlund

#impera #the band ghost

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ladyofasoiaf · 2 years

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Sansa Stark - Fashion & Style

Let me know if you find more :)

A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

Sansa already looked her best. She had brushed out her long auburn hair until it shone, and picked her nicest blue silks.

A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

"It is better than the songs," she whispered when they found the places that her father had promised her, among the high lords and ladies. Sansa was dressed beautifully that day, in a green gown that brought out the auburn of her hair, and she knew they were looking at her and smiling.

A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

It was running down her nose and stinging her eyes. Sansa wiped it away with a napkin. When she saw what the fruit in her lap had done to her beautiful ivory silk dress, she shrieked again.

[...]

Lord Eddard was bent over a huge leather-bound book when Septa Mordane marched her into the solar, his plaster-wrapped leg stiff beneath the table. "Come here, Sansa," he said, not unkindly, when the septa had gone for her sister. "Sit beside me." He closed the book.

Septa Mordane returned with Arya squirming in her grasp. Sansa had put on a lovely pale green damask gown and a look of remorse, but her sister was still wearing the ratty leathers and roughspun she'd worn at breakfast. "Here is the other one," the septa announced.

A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV

She went to sleep wondering, restless, and fearful. Was her beautiful Joffrey the king now? Or had they killed him too? She was afraid for him, and for her father. If only they would tell her what was happening …

That night Sansa dreamt of Joffrey on the throne, with herself seated beside him in a gown of woven gold. She had a crown on her head, and everyone she had ever known came before her, to bend the knee and say their courtesies.

The next morning, the morning of the third day, Ser Boros Blount of the Kingsguard came to escort her to the queen.

[...]

She chose a simple dress of dark grey wool, plainly cut but richly embroidered around the collar and sleeves. Her fingers felt thick and clumsy as she struggled with the silver fastenings without the benefit of servants.

A Game of Thrones - Sansa V [= AGOT Sansa III]

When the king's herald moved forward, Sansa realized the moment was almost at hand. She smoothed down the cloth of her skirt nervously. She was dressed in mourning, as a sign of respect for the dead king, but she had taken special care to make herself beautiful. Her gown was the ivory silk that the queen had given her, the one Arya had ruined, but she'd had them dye it black and you couldn't see the stain at all. She had fretted over her jewelry for hours and finally decided upon the elegant simplicity of a plain silver chain.

A Game of Thrones - Arya V

And there in their midst was Sansa, dressed in sky-blue silk, with her long auburn hair washed and curled and silver bracelets on her wrists. Arya scowled, wondering what her sister was doing here, why she looked so happy.

A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI [= AGOT Sansa II]

Her maids sluiced the blood off her face, scrubbed the dirt from her back, washed her hair and brushed it out until it sprang back in thick auburn curls. Sansa did not speak to them, except to give them commands; they were Lannister servants, not her own, and she did not trust them. When the time came to dress, she chose the green silk gown that she had worn to the tourney. She recalled how gallant Joff had been to her that night at the feast. Perhaps it would make him remember as well, and treat her more gently.

A Clash of Kings - Sansa I

Sansa closed the shutters and turned sharply away from the window. "You look very lovely today, my lady," Ser Arys said.

"Thank you, ser." Knowing that Joffrey would require her to attend the tourney in his honor, Sansa had taken special care with her face and clothes. She wore a gown of pale purple silk and a moonstone hair net that had been a gift from Joffrey. The gown had long sleeves to hide the bruises on her arms. Those were Joffrey's gifts as well. When they told him that Robb had been proclaimed King in the North, his rage had been a fearsome thing, and he had sent Ser Boros to beat her.

A Clash of Kings - Sansa II

Sansa threw a plain grey cloak over her shoulders and picked up the knife she used to cut her meat. If it is some trap, better that I die than let them hurt me more, she told herself. She hid the blade under her cloak.

A Clash of Kings - Sansa III

Had Joffrey found out about her meetings with Ser Dontos? Please no, she thought as she brushed out her hair. Ser Dontos was her only hope. I have to look pretty, Joff likes me to look pretty, he's always liked me in this gown, this color. She smoothed the cloth down. The fabric was tight across her chest.

[...]

Sansa covered herself with her hands, staggering every time the fruit pounded her, her hair sticky by the second blow. People were laughing. The melon flew to pieces. Laugh, Joffrey, she prayed as the juice ran down her face and the front of her blue silk gown. Laugh and be satisfied.

A Clash of Kings - Tyrion IX

Sansa Stark rode a chesnut mare at his side, looking neither right nor left, her thick auburn hair flowing to her shoulders beneath a net of moonstones. Two of the Kingsguard flanked the couple, the Hound on the king's right hand and Ser Mandon Moore to the left of the Stark girl.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

A new gown?" she said, as wary as she was astonished.

"More lovely than any you have worn, my lady," the old woman promised. She measured Sansa's hips with a length of knotted string. "All silk and Myrish lace, with satin linings. You will be very beautiful. The queen herself has commanded it."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

Cersei's own bedmaid trimmed her nails and brushed and curled her auburn hair so it fell down her back in soft ringlets. She brought a dozen of the queen's favorite scents as well. Sansa chose a sharp sweet fragrance with a hint of lemon in it under the smell of flowers. The maid dabbed some on her finger and touched Sansa behind each ear, and under her chin, and then lightly on her nipples.

Cersei herself arrived with the seamstress, and watched as they dressed Sansa in her new clothes. The smallclothes were all silk, but the gown itself was ivory samite and cloth-of-silver, and lined with silvery satin. The points of the long dagged sleeves almost touched the ground when she lowered her arms. And it was a woman's gown, not a little girl's, there was no doubt of that. The bodice was slashed in front almost to her belly, the deep vee covered over with a panel of ornate Myrish lace in dove-grey. The skirts were long and full, the waist so tight that Sansa had to hold her breath as they laced her into it. They brought her new shoes as well, slippers of soft grey doeskin that hugged her feet like lovers. "You are very beautiful, my lady," the seamstress said when she was dressed.

"I am, aren't I?" Sansa giggled, and spun, her skirts swirling around her.

A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

Sansa wore a gown of silvery satin trimmed in vair, with dagged sleeves that almost touched the floor, lined in soft purple felt. Shae had arranged her hair artfully in a delicate silver net winking with dark purple gemstones. Tyrion had never seen her look more lovely, yet she wore sorrow on those long satin sleeves. "Lady Sansa," he told her, "you shall be the most beautiful woman in the hall tonight."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa V

Dress warmly, Ser Dontos had told her, and dress dark. She had no blacks, so she chose a dress of thick brown wool. The bodice was decorated with freshwater pearls, though. The cloak will cover them. The cloak was a deep green, with a large hood. She slipped the dress over her head, and donned the cloak, though she left the hood down for the moment. There were shoes as well, simple and sturdy, with flat heels and square toes. The gods heard my prayer, she thought. She felt so numb and dreamy. My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel. Her hands moved stiffly, awkwardly, as if they had never let down her hair before. For a moment she wished Shae was there, to help her with the net.

When she pulled it free, her long auburn hair cascaded down her back and across her shoulders. The web of spun silver hung from her fingers, the fine metal glimmering softly, the stones black in the moonlight. Black amethysts from Asshai. One of them was missing. Sansa lifted the net for a closer look. There was a dark smudge in the silver socket where the stone had fallen out.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Sansa left the shutters open as she dressed. It would be cold, she knew, though the Eyrie's towers encircled the garden and protected it from the worst of the mountain winds. She donned silken smallclothes and a linen shift, and over that a warm dress of blue lambswool. Two pairs of hose for her legs, boots that laced up to her knees, heavy leather gloves, and finally a hooded cloak of soft white fox fur.

A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

This morning her eye was caught by a parti-colored gown of Tully red and blue, lined with vair. Gretchel helped her slide her arms into the belled sleeves and laced her back, then brushed and pinned her hair. Alayne had darkened it again last night before she went to bed. The wash her aunt had given her changed her own rich auburn into Alayne's burnt brown, but it was seldom long before the red began creeping back at the roots. And what must I do when the dye runs out? The wash had come from Tyrosh, across the narrow sea.

[...]

Alayne looked down at her dress, the deep blue and rich dark red of Riverrun. "Is it too—"

"It is too Tully. The Lords Declarant will not be pleased by the sight of my bastard daughter prancing about in my dead wife's clothes. Choose something else. Need I remind you to avoid sky blue and cream?”

[…]

There was a gown of purple silk that gave her pause, and another of dark blue velvet slashed with silver that would have woken all the color in her eyes, but in the end she remembered that Alayne was after all a bastard, and must not presume to dress above her station. The dress she picked was lambswool, dark brown and simply cut, with leaves and vines embroidered around the bodice, sleeves, and hem in golden thread. It was modest and becoming, though scarce richer than something a serving girl might wear. Petyr had given her all of Lady Lysa's jewels as well, and she tried on several necklaces, but they all seemed ostentatious. In the end she chose a simple velvet ribbon in autumn gold. When Gretchel fetched her Lysa's silvered looking glass, the color seemed just perfect with Alayne's mass of dark brown hair. Lord Royce will never know me, she thought. Why, I hardly know myself.

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

Beyond the walls, the wind picked up sharply. They were above the tree line here, exposed to the elements. Alayne was thankful that she'd dressed so warmly. Her cloak was flapping noisily behind her, and a sudden gust blew back her hood. She laughed, but a few yards ahead Lord Robert squirmed, and said, "It's too cold. We should go back and wait until it's warmer.”

[...]

Her eyes widened. "He is not Lady Waynwood's heir. He's Robert's heir. If Robert were to die . . ."

Petyr arched an eyebrow. "When Robert dies. Our poor brave Sweetrobin is such a sickly boy, it is only a matter of time. When Robert dies, Harry the Heir becomes Lord Harrold, Defender of the Vale and Lord of the Eyrie. Jon Arryn's bannermen will never love me, nor our silly, shaking Robert, but they will love their Young Falcon . . . and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back . . . why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright. So those are your gifts from me, my sweet Sansa . . . Harry, the Eyrie, and Winterfell. That's worth another kiss now, don't you think?"

#One day I am gonna give you pictures too.. it would be fun to create her wardrobe #asoiaf #sansa stark #alayne stone #dresses #fashion #icon me thinks #mine #updated

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butterflies-dragons · 3 years

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SANSA STARK & TARGARYEN IMAGERY

A list of Targaryen Imagery around Sansa Stark in A Song of Ice and Fire

Fire and Blood

Black and Red

Silver and Purple

Dragon's Tail

Dragon Wings

Dragon Eggs

Dragon Skulls

Golden Dragons

Dragon Knights

Valyrian Steel

Dance of the Dragons

Maegor the Cruel

Baelor the Blessed

Aegon the Unworthy

Prince Aemon the Dragonknight

Aerys the Mad King

Rhaegar the ast dragon

Bonus: Fiery Hair

1. FIRE AND BLOOD

Sansa slid off her mare, but she was too slow. Arya swung with both hands. There was a loud crack as the wood split against the back of the prince's head, and then everything happened at once before Sansa's horrified eyes. Joffrey staggered and whirled around, roaring curses. Mycah ran for the trees as fast as his legs would take him. Arya swung at the prince again, but this time Joffrey caught the blow on Lion's Tooth and sent her broken stick flying from her hands. The back of his head was all bloody and his eyes were on fire.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

The point of Ser Gregor's lance had snapped off in his neck, and his life's blood flowed out in slow pulses, each weaker than the one before. His armor was shiny new; a bright streak of fire ran down his outstretched arm, as the steel caught the light. Then the sun went behind a cloud, and it was gone. His cloak was blue, the color of the sky on a clear summer's day, trimmed with a border of crescent moons, but as his blood seeped into it, the cloth darkened and the moons turned red, one by one.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

The blood orange had left a blotchy red stain on the silk. "I hate her!" she screamed. She balled up the dress and flung it into the cold hearth, on top of the ashes of last night's fire. When she saw that the stain had bled through onto her underskirt, she began to sob despite herself. She ripped off the rest of her clothes wildly, threw herself into bed, and cried herself back to sleep.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa V

Then she realized that the blood had soaked through the sheet into the featherbed, so she bundled that up as well, but it was big and cumbersome, hard to move. Sansa could get only half of it into the fire. She was on her knees, struggling to shove the mattress into the flames as thick grey smoke eddied around her and filled the room, when the door burst open and she heard her maid gasp.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa IV

When she crawled out of bed, long moments later, she was alone. She found his cloak on the floor, twisted up tight, the white wool stained by blood and fire.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa VII

"The dwarf's wife did the murder with him," swore an archer in Lord Rowan's livery. "Afterward, she vanished from the hall in a puff of brimstone, and a ghostly direwolf was seen prowling the Red Keep, blood dripping from his jaws."

—A Storm of Swords - Jaime VII

As the boy's lips touched her own she found herself thinking of another kiss. She could still remember how it felt, when his cruel mouth pressed down on her own. He had come to Sansa in the darkness as green fire filled the sky. He took a song and a kiss, and left me nothing but a bloody cloak.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

2. BLACK AND RED

The queen wore a high-collared black silk gown, with a hundred dark red rubies sewn into her bodice, covering her from neck to bosom. They were cut in the shape of teardrops, as if the queen were weeping blood.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV

Tyrion wore a doublet of black velvet covered with golden scrollwork, thigh-high boots that added three inches to his height, a chain of rubies and lions’ heads. But the gash across his face was raw and red, and his nose was a hideous scab. “You are very beautiful, Sansa,” he told her.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

3. SILVER AND PURPLE

Sansa closed the shutters and turned sharply away from the window. "You look very lovely today, my lady," Ser Arys said.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa I

"You've waited so long, be patient awhile longer. Here, I have something for you." Ser Dontos fumbled in his pouch and drew out a silvery spiderweb, dangling it between his thick fingers.

It was a hair net of fine-spun silver, the strands so thin and delicate the net seemed to weigh no more than a breath of air when Sansa took it in her fingers. Small gems were set wherever two strands crossed, so dark they drank the moonlight. "What stones are these?"

"Black amethysts from Asshai. The rarest kind, a deep true purple by daylight."

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa VIII

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

4. DRAGON WINGS

Tyrion scarce touched his food, Sansa noticed, though he drank several cups of the wine. For herself, she tried a little of the Dornish eggs, but the peppers burned her mouth. Otherwise she only nibbled at the fruit and fish and honeycakes. Every time Joffrey looked at her, her tummy got so fluttery that she felt as though she'd swallowed a bat.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

"What wife?"

"I forgot, you've been hiding under a rock. The northern girl. Winterfell's daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterward changed into a wolf with big leather wings like a bat, and flew out a tower window. But she left the dwarf behind and Cersei means to have his head."

—A Storm of Swords - Arya XIII

5. DRAGON EGGS

Butterbumps arrived before the food, dressed in a jester’s suit of green and yellow feathers with a floppy coxcomb. An immense round fat man, as big as three Moon Boys, he came cartwheeling into the hall, vaulted onto the table, and laid a gigantic egg right in front of Sansa. “Break it, my lady,” he commanded. When she did, a dozen yellow chicks escaped and began running in all directions. “Catch them!” Butterbumps exclaimed. Little Lady Bulwer snagged one and handed it to him, whereby he tilted back his head, popped it into his huge rubbery mouth, and seemed to swallow it whole. When he belched, tiny yellow feathers flew out his nose. Lady Bulwer began to wail in distress, but her tears turned into a sudden squeal of delight when the chick came squirming out of the sleeve of her gown and ran down her arm.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

In the Queen's Ballroom they broke their fast on honeycakes baked with blackberries and nuts, gammon steaks, bacon, fingerfish crisped in breadcrumbs, autumn pears, and a Dornish dish of onions, cheese, and chopped eggs cooked up with fiery peppers.

[…] Tyrion scarce touched his food, Sansa noticed, though he drank several cups of the wine. For herself, she tried a little of the Dornish eggs, but the peppers burned her mouth.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

6. DRAGON’S TAIL

The morning of King Joffrey's name day dawned bright and windy, with the long tail of the great comet visible through the high scuttling clouds. Sansa was watching it from her tower window when Ser Arys Oakheart arrived to escort her down to the tourney grounds. "What do you think it means?" she asked him.

"Glory to your betrothed," Ser Arys answered at once. "See how it flames across the sky today on His Grace's name day, as if the gods themselves had raised a banner in his honor. The smallfolk have named it King Joffrey's Comet."

Doubtless that was what they told Joffrey; Sansa was not so sure. "I've heard servants calling it the Dragon's Tail."

"King Joffrey sits where Aegon the Dragon once sat, in the castle built by his son," Ser Arys said. "He is the dragon's heir—and crimson is the color of House Lannister, another sign. This comet is sent to herald Joffrey's ascent to the throne, I have no doubt. It means that he will triumph over his enemies."

Is it true? she wondered. Would the gods be so cruel? Her mother was one of Joffrey's enemies now, her brother Robb another. Her father had died by the king's command. Must Robb and her lady mother die next? The comet was red, but Joffrey was Baratheon as much as Lannister, and their sigil was a black stag on a golden field. Shouldn't the gods have sent Joff a golden comet?

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa I

7. DRAGON SKULLS

Within, the dragon skulls were waiting, and so was Shae. “I thought m’lord had forgotten me.” Her dress was draped over a black tooth near as tall as she was, and she stood within the dragon’s jaws, nude. Balerion, he thought. Or was it Vhagar? One dragon skull looked much like another.

[...] After, as they lay entwined amongst the dragon skulls, he rested his head against her, inhaling the smooth clean smell of her hair. “We should go back,” he said reluctantly. “It must be near dawn. Sansa will be waking.

[...] The Others can take my guilt, he thought as he slipped his tunic over his head. Why should I be guilty? My wife wants no part of me, and most especially not the part that seems to want her. Perhaps he ought to tell her about Shae. It was not as though he was the first man ever to keep a concubine. Sansa’s own oh-so-honorable father had given her a bastard brother. For all he knew, his wife might be thrilled to learn that he was fucking Shae, so long as it spared her his unwelcome touch.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VII

8. GOLDEN DRAGONS

"The queen raised her voice. "A hundred golden dragons to the man who brings me its skin!”

“A costly pelt,” Robert grumbled. “I want no part of this, woman. You can damn well buy your furs with Lannister gold.”

[...] Shortly, Jory brought him Ice.

When it was over, he said, “Choose four men and have them take the body north. Bury her at Winterfell.”

“All that way?” Jory said, astonished.

“All that way,” Ned affirmed. “The Lannister woman shall never have this skin.”

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard III

"Petyr Baelish put a hand on the rail. "But first you’ll want your payment. Ten thousand dragons, was it?”

“Ten thousand.” Dontos rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. “As you promised, my lord.”

[...] “But he saved me.”

“He sold you for a promise of ten thousand dragons.

[...]“Sansa felt sick. "He said he was my Florian.”

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa V

“Your sister’s had no difficulty finding witnesses to your guilt.” Ser Kevan rolled up the parchment. “Ser Addam has men hunting for your wife. Varys has offered a hundred stags for word of her whereabouts, and a hundred dragons for the girl herself. If the girl can be found she will be found, and I shall bring her to you. I see no harm in husband and wife sharing the same cell and giving comfort to one another.”

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion IX

Someplace no stag ever found … though a dragon might.

—A Feast for Crows - Brienne III

"A good melee is all a hedge knight can hope for, unless he stumbles on a bag of dragons. And that's not likely, is it?"

—The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

9. DRAGON KNIGHTS

She shouted for Ser Dontos, for her brothers, for her dead father and her dead wolf, for gallant Ser Loras who had given her a red rose once, but none of them came. She called for the heroes from the songs, for Florian and Ser Ryam Redwyne and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, but no one heard.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa IV

"True knights would never harm women and children." The words rang hollow in her ears even as she said them.

"True knights." The queen seemed to find that wonderfully amusing. "No doubt you're right. So why don't you just eat your broth like a good girl and wait for Symeon Star-Eyes and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight to come rescue you, sweetling. I'm sure it won't be very long now."

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa V

They continued down the serpentine and across a small sunken courtyard. Ser Dontos shoved open a heavy door and lit a taper. They were inside a long gallery. Along the walls stood empty suits of armor, dark and dusty, their helms crested with rows of scales that continued down their backs. As they hurried past, the taper's light made the shadows of each scale stretch and twist. The hollow knights are turning into dragons, she thought.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa V

10. VALYRIAN STEEL

Lord Tywin waited until last to present the king with his own gift: a longsword. Its scabbard was made of cherrywood, gold, and oiled red leather, studded with golden lions' heads. The lions had ruby eyes, she saw. The ballroom fell silent as Joffrey unsheathed the blade and thrust the sword above his head. Red and black ripples in the steel shimmered in the morning light.

[…] "A great sword must have a great name, my lords! What shall I call it?"

[…] The guests were shouting out names for the new blade. Joff dismissed a dozen before he heard one he liked. "Widow's Wail!" he cried.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

But she had another longsword hidden in her bedroll. She sat on the bed and took it out. Gold glimmered yellow in the candlelight and rubies smoldered red. When she slid Oathkeeper from the ornate scabbard, Brienne's breath caught in her throat. Black and red the ripples ran, deep within the steel. Valyrian steel, spell-forged. It was a sword fit for a hero. When she was small, her nurse had filled her ears with tales of valor, regaling her with the noble exploits of Ser Galladon of Morne, Florian the Fool, Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, and other champions. Each man bore a famous sword, and surely Oathkeeper belonged in their company, even if she herself did not. "You'll be defending Ned Stark's daughter with Ned Stark's own steel," Jaime had promised.

—A Feast for Crows - Brienne I

11. DANCE OF THE DRAGONS

Later, while Sansa was off listening to a troupe of singers perform the complex round of interwoven ballads called the "Dance of the Dragons," Ned inspected the bruise himself. "I hope Forel is not being too hard on you," he said.

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard VII

He sang of the Dance of the Dragons, of fair Jonquil and her fool, of Jenny of Oldstones and the Prince of Dragonflies. He sang of betrayals, and murders most foul, of hanged men and bloody vengeance. He sang of grief and sadness.

—A Feast for Crows - Sansa I

12. MAEGOR THE CRUEL

The room where Sansa had been confined was at the top of the highest tower of Maegor's Holdfast.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV

In the tower room at the heart of Maegor's Holdfast, Sansa gave herself to the darkness.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI

13. BAELOR THE BLESSED

"Baelor starved himself to death, fasting," said Tyrion. "His uncle served him loyally as Hand, as he had served the Young Dragon before him. Viserys might only have reigned a year, but he ruled for fifteen, while Daeron warred and Baelor prayed." He made a sour face. "And if he did remove his nephew, can you blame him? Someone had to save the realm from Baelor's follies."

Sansa was shocked. "But Baelor the Blessed was a great king. He walked the Boneway barefoot to make peace with Dorne, and rescued the Dragonknight from a snakepit. The vipers refused to strike him because he was so pure and holy."

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

14. AEGON THE UNWORTHY

Aegon the Unworthy had never harmed Queen Naerys, perhaps for fear of their brother the Dragonknight . . . but when another of his Kingsguard fell in love with one of his mistresses, the king had taken both their heads.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

"A king can have other women. Whores. My father did. One of the Aegons did too. The third one, or the fourth. He had lots of whores and lots of bastards." As they whirled to the music, Joff gave her a moist kiss. "My uncle will bring you to my bed whenever I command it."

Sansa shook her head. "He won't."

"He will, or I'll have his head. That King Aegon, he had any woman he wanted, whether they were married or no."

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

15. PRINCE AEMON THE DRAGONKNIGHT

He took her by the arm and led her away from the wheelhouse, and Sansa's spirits took flight. A whole day with her prince! She gazed at Joffrey worshipfully. He was so gallant, she thought. The way he had rescued her from Ser Ilyn and the Hound, why, it was almost like the songs, like the time Serwyn of the Mirror Shield saved the Princess Daeryssa from the giants, or Prince Aemon the Dragonknight championing Queen Naerys's honor against evil Ser Morgil's slanders.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

"Father, I only just now remembered, I can't go away, I'm to marry Prince Joffrey." She tried to smile bravely for him. "I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies."

"Sweet one," her father said gently, "listen to me. When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. This match with Joffrey was a terrible mistake. That boy is no Prince Aemon, you must believe me."

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

She pulled a chair close to the hearth, took down one of her favorite books, and lost herself in the stories of Florian and Jonquil, of Lady Shella and the Rainbow Knight, of valiant Prince Aemon and his doomed love for his brother's queen.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV

For those who remained, a singer was brought forth to fill the hall with the sweet music of the high harp. He sang of Jonquil and Florian, of Prince Aemon the Dragonknight and his love for his brother's queen, of Nymeria's ten thousand ships. They were beautiful songs, but terribly sad. Several of the women began to weep, and Sansa felt her own eyes growing moist.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa VI

16. AERYS THE MAD KING

"Ser Ilyn has not been feeling talkative these past fourteen years," Lord Renly commented with a sly smile.

Joffrey gave his uncle a look of pure loathing, then took Sansa's hands in his own. "Aerys Targaryen had his tongue ripped out with hot pincers."

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

"The battleground is right up ahead, where the river bends. That was where my father killed Rhaegar Targaryen, you know. He smashed in his chest, crunch, right through the armor." Joffrey swung an imaginary warhammer to show her how it was done. "Then my uncle Jaime killed old Aerys, and my father was king."

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

"You can't talk to me that way. The king can do as he likes."

"Aerys Targaryen did as he liked. Has your mother ever told you what happened to him?"

Ser Boros Blount harrumphed. "No man threatens His Grace in the presence of the Kingsguard."

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa III

17. RHAEGAR THE LAST DRAGON

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

"My father told everyone my bedding had caught fire, and our maester gave me ointments. Ointments! Gregor got his ointments too. Four years later, they anointed him with the seven oils and he recited his knightly vows and Rhaegar Targaryen tapped him on the shoulder and said, 'Arise, Ser Gregor.'"

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

18. BONUS: FIERY HAIR

Robb and Sansa and Bran and even little Rickon all took after the Tullys, with easy smiles and fire in their hair.

—A Game of Thrones - Arya I

"You will be the most beautiful woman in the hall tonight, as lovely as your lady mother at your age. I cannot seat you on the dais, but you'll have a place of honor above the salt and underneath a wall sconce. The fire will be shining in your hair, so everyone will see how fair of face you are. Keep a good long spoon on hand to beat the squires off, sweetling. You will not want green boys underfoot when the knights come round to beg you for your favor."

—The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

#sansa stark #jonsa

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lovlettres-moved · 2 years

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Hey! I've been really craving some manga recs lately, and since you have impecable taste 👌i thought you were the best person to ask! What wld you rec?

hiiii i haven't actually read a lot of manga ;-; i am pretty new to reading it and am still discovering things i like but here are some of my favorite reads

🌷 hirayasumi by keigo shinzo (i already recommended it to you but it's such a light fun read i can't help but recommend it again -- i love the lightness of joy found in living with simplicity)

🌷hoseki no kuni by haruko ichikawa (it's about life after the end of humanity and what becomes of what humanity leaves behind -- a beautiful story, i think the art is one of the most beautiful ones ive seen, do look up the trigger warnings though i read it a long time back so i don't remember much ;-;)

🌷 spirit in the sky by daisuke igarashi (beautifully composed and written, there's empathy and beauty, but there's also the exploration of the everyday horror of living -- not a light read but it leaves you thinking a lot)

🌷 mushishi by yuki urushibara (haunting but not in the sense of horror but in the sense that what loves you will haunt you, and what you love will carry you as much as you carry it -- the fleeting-ness of moving that transcends beyond ones connection with humans; there's a lot of empathy in one's connection with nature, and how one approaches non-humans and humans and keeps a balance between giving them compassion)

🌷 natsume's book of friends by yuki midorikawa (shoujo, short snippets of the life of the main character -- learning to live again, there's a lot of focus on friendships and it handles them so carefully it's beautiful)

🌷 blame! by tsutomo nihei (science fiction, post-apocalyptic, futuristic world -- it fucks up with your mind the first time you read it so it requires a lot of rereads after you let it sit with you, which is the fun part about reading it -- the art and composition is one of my favorites especially the neverending architecture, it almost feels like reading a game -- the narrative is structured haphazardly which is the appeal of it)

🌷🌷🌷

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blackswaneuroparedux · 3 years

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Anonymous asked: Your cool literary takes on James Bond made me want to ask you this. I have to wear a tuxedo for a special occasion, can you give me some advice? I would welcome some style pointers from you as I respect your refined taste. What are your thoughts on men wearing the tuxedo? I think it’s a dying tradition because here in the US, where the tux was invented, it has all but disappeared as the choice of evening wear for any social events. Great blog posts but I only wish you would post more.

Thank you for your kind words about my most recent posts on Ian Fleming’s James Bond and also generally liking what I post. I too wish I could post more but unfortunately my time is taken up with the reality of work and other things even during these tough times of the Covid pandemic. But when I get a moment to myself I do enjoy posting as a way to detox from the pressures of work. I appreciate your continued support.

I got this question before Christmas so the thought had occurred to me that you were asking because you had a decision to make over the festive period. If so, I am sorry for tardy lateness of my response. But I trust what little advice I can give will help you in the future.

I always remember the maxim by the fashion designer, Tom Ford, who said, “Dressing well is a form of good manners.”

To me, for a man to wear black tie (or tuxedo) is the height of good manners. It used to be the case that every gentleman had one and it was perhaps the first suit to pack into a suitcase. Perhaps one of the few times I was ever envious of my older brothers as men was accompanying them with my father the first time they went to get fitted for a bespoke black tie at Henry Poole & Co - the Savile Row tailors that had been the regular choice of my grandfather and father for their clothing attire. Although both siblings later gravitated to other Savile Row bespoke tailors as they got older, that first Henry Poole black tie lasted them for a long time. The whole ritual around taking measurements took on a hushed sacred tone of a liturgy. Looking back it felt like a rite of passage for them as they passed from boyhood to adulthood.

The choice of wearing a tuxedo epitomises the desire - among people of means and social standing - to be fresh, clean and as attractive as possible when meeting on evening social events and attending high spirits affairs. This tradition was maintained also with the beginning of the use of the automobile, when there was no practical justification.

Before the Second World War, tuxedos and tails were still considered the only appropriate clothing for all the elegant social evenings. However, after the war, the traditional suit, or the work suit, began to be accepted more on informal evening and daytime occasions, and so the use of the tuxedo was limited to just formal evening gatherings only.

The tuxedo was completely remade in disco's image by the 1970s. A young, revolutionary generation looked at the conservative styling of the tuxedo and threw out nearly everything, keeping only the vague silhouette. Huge, floppy bow ties, colourful patterned jackets, shirts with ruffles and lace, and trousers that looked more like bell-bottoms became much more prevalent. The typical tuxedo in the '70s usually had at least two of these elements, if not all of them.

By the 1980s, a return to classic styling had thankfully re-emerged and tuxedos started looking more conservative.

By the late 2000s, as dress codes became diluted and misunderstood, formal-wear took another hit. Business-casual was the predominate dress code of the workplace and shiny black suits with matching ties had nearly supplanted traditional black-tie. Coloured dress shirts also began to trend in this era. Those who continued to wear traditional black-tie made it as simple as possible to match the casual aesthetic that a new generation preferred.

These days I think more and more young men are adopting the black-tie styles of the '30s and '40s. Midnight blue tuxedos have even made a comeback. I think high quality period dramas like "Mad Men" are at least part of the reason for the shift, with men growing nostalgic for a bygone era of neater, more crisp look.

People forget, as often as they do, that the original purpose of this elegant clothing was to replace the suit worn all day, allowing men to leave behind the dirt and smell of a day spent on horseback, not to bring it around the dining table.

These days the emphasis on informality has made it easier to make excuses for men (and women) to dress down to a street level of casual indifference (laziness) that I find aesthetically displeasing.

Moreover I find it a tad disrespectful to the sense of occasion and also an unkind ingratitude to the efforts made by the host or hostess in organising such an event. For those who think wearing black tie is a sign of social superiority, then respectfully they have not understood its true purpose. In following the dress code, it is in effect a sign of respect towards your fellow guests, as it has been put in place to ensure attendees are on the same level.

The origin of the tuxedo is a controversial subject of conversation in some circles. I know in the US it’s common to assume the tux was invented there but many have pointed out it was in England that its origins lie. Some fashion historians trace it back to the 17th Century as a tailless ‘smoking jacket’. In England during the 17th century, after dinner the gentlemen might put on a smoking jacket and retreat to a den or smoking room. Indeed in the beginning it was believed that the purpose of the ’smoking jacket’ ensured that their evening coat would not be burned by ashes nor absorb the smell of tobacco which the women found distasteful.

However these days there remain two theories about the first ever proper tuxedo that we would recognise today. In the first theory the tuxedo was invented by Pierre Lorillard IV of New York City according to one school of thought. Pierre Lorillard's family were wealthy tobacco magnates who owned country property in Tuxedo Park, just outside of New York City. At a formal ball, held at the Tuxedo Club in October 1886, the young Lorillard wore a new style of formal wear for men that he designed himself. He named his tailless black jacket the tuxedo after Tuxedo Park. The tuxedo caught on and became fashionable as formal wear for men.

The second theory, according to English clothing historian James Laver, has it that the idea of wearing black for evening wear was first introduced by the 19th Century British writer, Edward Bulwer-Lyttonn who wrote in 1828 that "people must be very distinguished to look well in black." It was only until later in the century that a village resident of Tuxedo Park, New York, James Brown Potter vacationed in England in the summer of 1886. Potter and his wife, Cora were introduced to the Prince of Wales {who later became King Edward VII} at a court ball in London. Potter asked the Prince for advice on formal dress. The Prince sent Potter to his own Saville Row tailor, Henry Poole & Co. Potter was fitted with a short black jacket and black tie that was unlike the formal tails with white tie that was worn in the United States for formal occasions.

The new tailless formal wear was said to have been designed by the Prince of Wales. It was Edward VII who in 1865 commissioned to his tailor Henry Poole to create a short blue evening jacket (midnight blue), to be used for informal evenings in his country estate of Sandringham. The Prince and his tailor drew inspiration from the British military uniforms of the time, which used short jackets with black ties.

This is where the two origins meet. James Brown Potter took the design back to the Tuxedo Club, where Pierre Lorillard modified it, named it, and made it popular during the Autumn ball. And so from that blessed bespoke collaboration between the Prince and Henry Poole & Co was born the ancestor of what everyone call today as tuxedos, the English ‘dinner jacket’ and the Americans ‘tuxedo’ - because of its original word spread starting from the homonymous village of Tuxedo Park.

Whatever the exact truth of its origin, black tie remains the evening attire par excellence. I’m flattered that anyone should ask me for style tips, especially regarding grooming and clothing for men.

I like to think that the true purpose of a man wearing black tie was to help the man show the humility to be an unassuming gentleman in effortlessly blending into the background so that his female companion could shine more by his side. A man in black tie was a gentleman who stood steadfastly there with an outstretched arm to make women feel more beautiful, but also to reassure them that all is right in the world.

If you get the opportunity to wear black tie then do please take it. The fact that you desire to wear one is already a great choice that makes you stand out from the loud bling-bling hoi polloi. But please don’t confuse wearing a black tie with snobbery. It isn’t, it’s just good manners. Manners maketh man as they say and so it’s not something one is born with but can only be learned. And don’t confuse fashion for style. The two are very different. Fashion is what you copy from others and style is what you express about yourself. Don’t conform to the passing fancies of the day (the loud, the garish, the attention seeking), or as Coco Chanel put it, ‘elegance is refusal’.

Always remember that style is a way to say who you are without having to speak.

In theory, the elegance of the tuxedo stems from its simplicity - it’s an ultimate classic, the one outfit one doesn’t mess around with. In practice, many men find the rules governing this suit and its accoutrements to be annoyingly complex and complexly annoying.

My basic rule for men is ‘kiss’ - Keep It Simple, Stupid.

Rule 1: Buy, don’t rent

It’s better if the black tie that you have is yours, and not rented. For one thing it’s a question of comfortability. You’ll be comfortable in your skin if you’re more comfortable in a suit that actually fits. Secondly, a rental doesn’t mean it’s good quality. The fabric is an important consideration.

In an ideal world you should get a bespoke tailored black tie made - ideally from any of the excellent tailors on Savile Row. But not all tailors are equal. Henry Poole & Co would be the traditional choice. I know for my older brothers they prefer Gieves & Hawkes and Huntsman because they have a more military draped cut, traditional but not stuffy.

In the long run it’s a once in a lifetime worthy investment if you take in consideration the cost of each potential rental along with how many times you would be wearing one throughout the coming years.

But I understand for many that may be an impossible proposition. The next best thing is to get a less expensive ‘made-to-measure’ black tie which is an increasing and welcome avenue for men to still have a suit or black tie made to fit them.

I would hesitate recommending buying off the peg because many high street brands have a rather relaxed attitude to tailoring and quality. If you must buy off the peg or rent then make sure the fabric is wool.

Rule 2: Black or Midnight blue and no other colour

Your black tie should be, to state the obvious, black. Not only is it the correct choice, it is the stylish choice. You can never go wrong with black. But if you’re feeling a tad adventurous go with Midnight blue. Midnight blue, being blacker than black, is not merely an exception to the rule but an exceptional choice for shimmering with distinction under the moonlight.

But what about white dinner jacket so beloved of James Bond or Indiana Jones? Yes, quite.

Traditionally, white was worn in place of a traditional black suit to deflect heat. This made it the perfect alternative for black-tie events that were held in the afternoon, during the Summer or at sea. The white jacket variation of black tie began was adopted in the early 1930s as a way for well-heeled vacationers to dress formally in the tropical heat without having to endure the heavy and dark-coloured fabrics that were standard for evening wear at the time.

While dinner suits have become much more lightweight since then, the light-coloured jacket has remained a popular warm-weather alternative to its ebony progenitor. However, without a proper understanding of its form and function, the white dinner jacket easily becomes a flashy gimmick. Subtlety and restraint are the keys to the successful execution of this classic variation.

Avoid other colours like the plague. I do notice from time to time in the shop windows here in Paris (as well as London and elsewhere) that some menswear boutiques display bright coloured dinner jackets.

Usually it’s the Italians (like Canali and Brunello Cucinelli who give in to their worst Italian impulses to show off their peacock flair) and others who really should know better (yes, the wine red velvet dinner jacket is very fetching but it belongs by log side fire, a cigar, and a cognac, so thank you Tom Ford). I even think some of them look nice and charming but it’s not black tie.

Besides a non-traditional black tie will be much more vulnerable to the whims of passing fashion where as traditional unfussy black tie can give peace of mind that it will never go out of style and thus will last longer.

Rule 3: Put yourself in a straight jacket

The first thing to decide is single or double-breasted and number of buttons. A safe and elegant option is one-button single breast which is both timeless and classical. Two buttons are fine, worn with the lower button undone. Double-breasted styles of any button configuration are also appropriate, but keep in mind that double-breasted jackets add some ‘bulk’ to the body. So take a hard look at your body type before you decide which one best flows off your shoulders. The buttons should be fabric-covered.

Hand in hand with the button style goes the lapel. The classic, formal option is peak lapel. Shawl lapel is somewhat less formal, but perfectly suitable. Shawl has become very popular, especially in slim versions. Notch lapels are frequently seen on off-the-rack tuxedos, but this is a more casual style, which should be reserved for suits. My preference would be to go for the peak lapel but make them sufficiently wide and not too slim.

The jacket was traditionally without vents, to keep seams (i.e. details) to a minimum, but double vents are also acceptable, providing comfort and movement. The pockets should be straight piped (slit without flap) and there should be a breast pocket.

Rule 4: Trousers, brace yourself

The trousers are ideally made without pleats or cuffs, with straight pockets following the side seam, in order to make them less visible. Black tie attire should never be worn with belts, so skip the belt loops. Traditionally one would use suspenders (braces) as it straightens the body shape as well as holds up the trousers. Choose black or white braces in fabric, rather than in leather, or in any case they should be matching the colour of the tuxedo. But I should note that side-fasteners are also a convenient option for some flexibility in the waist. The front closure should be clip-only, avoiding the button. Classically, the trousers will have a satin silk stripe covering the outer side seam on each leg, matching the lapel facing. This is a lovely detail, but nowadays sometimes considered old-fashioned. For this reason alone I would insist on it.

Rule 5: Don’t get shirty

The shirt should be plain white cotton, with a few distinct features. It should always have a ‘bib’ running down to front, which provides starchy stiffness (i.e. a higher level of formality). I’ve seen shirts in which vertical pleats in matching fabric are designed. I think they look plain and boring. Similarly if someone suggests to you a fly-front placket panel that covers the buttons and leaves a clean look then walk away immediately. Both these kind of shirts are for the lazy because they both want to avoid having to deal with those troublesome studs where the buttons would be.

I would advise always make sure your shirt has a starch like ‘bib’ that is attached made up of a textured pique fabric (pin dots), usually called Marcella. They look so much more elegant and classy.

Many would say that collar can be a normal Kent variety or a wing collar, which has little points turned down where the collar wings would be, but otherwise exposing the collar band. I personally think a wing collar is subject to whims of fashion and something best left in a 1920s set movie. Some can wear them very well (see Paul Newman in The Sting) but it depends on the girth of your neck. I think the wing collar can portray a man’s neck in an unflattering way.

I think the normal Kent collar is cleaner and classical, and it will never go out of style. The Duke of Windsor made the Kent collar hugely popular in his prime.

The cuffs should be double (French cuff), to accommodate cufflinks.

Many people also forego the buttons on evening shirts, instead leaving holes where you can attach studs (often matched with the cufflinks). If you are going to do that make sure that they’re mother of pearl studs.

Rule 6: Accessories are in the details

The shirt should not be visible at the waist, which calls for a something covering the gap between trousers and jacket, unless you opted for a double-breasted jacket. Traditionally, this is non-negotiable, but these days you often see people wearing no waist covering. My advice is unless you’re wearing a double breasted black tie (for which there is no need to wear a cummerbund) then always wear a cummerbund with a single breasted black tie.

You either use a cummerbund matching the bow tie (a cummerbund folds upwards, for convenient opera ticket storage) or a waistcoat. Please don’t commit the faux pas of making your cummerbund a colour other than black. Often people match their bow ties to their cummerbunds in garish bright colours which just defeats the object of why one wears black tie in the first place.

For the waistcoat, there are a few style options. Often, black tie waistcoats will have a rounded (horseshoe) cut with shawl lapels but a regular cut waistcoat is also acceptable. The key is to go simple and match the jacket fabric, facing and buttons. The back can be wool or lining, where we’d recommend the latter, to make the ensemble cooler. A stylish fob watch with chain would be a nice little detail that one can drop without telegraphing it loudly.

Consider having a white silk pocket square. You can fold it any way you like, but the so-called straight presidential fold is simple and sharp looking.

Socks must be knee length. Make them black. Again, the principle is one of clean lines and elegance. Disruptions below the trouser leg - stripes, shins, whatever - threaten to ruin the whole effect.

Shoes. Your shoes must always shine. This is one detail many men neglect. The shoes should be black patent leather. My preference would be for high quality Oxfords. I know some purists would insist that only opera pumps walk the one true path, but it is obvious on its face that those precious ribboned things, also called court shoes, are not completely in step with modern life. I know too that bit-toe loafers (thank you Tom Ford) are also more of the modern rage but I find them a little effeminate. So while I don’t see it as a style concession I do think Oxfords shined to a high sheen is the modern and best choice I would opt for a gentleman to go for. To me being comfortable in your shoes is also an equal and valid consideration.

Cufflinks and studs should be simple and classic, luxury metals and mother-of-pearl or onyx insets are nice touches. I know some punt for more personalised cuff links - like their regimental or college or some other institutional affiliation - and there is nothing wrong with that but I am on the fence about this. Generally I would leave that for your day time business suits. Showing off defeats the ethos of wearing the black tie in the first place.

Rule 7: ‘Sprezzatura’ up your bow tie

‘Sprezzatura’ is a gorgeous Italian word - first appearing in Baldassare Castiglione's The Book of the Courtier in 1528 - that means a disheveled elegance by way of studied carelessness. This perfectly sums up how one should wear the centre piece of the black tie - the bow tie.

Don’t be taken in by the very modern fad - thank you Hollywood and modern music pop stars - of wearing long neck ties (even if they are in black) as part of your black tie attire. Just don’t. It doesn’t matter how swish you may look you still are a prat for not dressing in real black tie.

Plain black silk and entirely self-tied. That’s a real bow tie.

Anyone and his dog can always identify a pre-tied bow tie by the fact that it's just a little too studied. Perfectly straight, perfectly symmetrical, and perfectly balanced. Just like plastic surgery, clip-on bow ties just look too perfect to be real. It is one of the most obvious signs that you're a style amateur.

Avoid pre-tied bow ties (and its ugly sibling the stick-on bow tie) like the plague....unless you’re a child who is unable to tie his own bow tie. But what if you don’t know how to tie a real bow tie? It’s never too late to learn. It’s the same level of difficulty as tying your shoes. If you don’t know ask someone who does know. If you’re buying a bespoke tailored black tie the tailor would most definitely show you how to do it. Easy peasy.

Remember bow ties are supposed to be imperfect and worn. That’s what makes the wearer authentic.

Perfect symmetry is not a goal worth pursuing here. Being an elegant gentleman is.

And that’s it. Those would be my informal rules for any man wanting to be a gentleman wearing black tie for a special occasion.

Thanks for your question.

#question #ask #black tie #tuxedo #dinner jacket #menswear #fashion #style #bespoke #savile row #gentlemen #culture #personal #henry poole #bow tie #monarchy #edward VII #etiquette

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unstoppableforcce · 3 years

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golden

CHAPTER ONE: simplicity

pairing: Poe Dameron x oc! Anya

next part | masterlist | oc art

a/n: this is set before the Force Awakens and is a rewrite and expansion of one of my first fics. it’s a big one, this part is 6.7k which might be the longest thing i’ve ever written lol, but i love my oc and the relationships and the plot of this, i hope yall do too bc i can’t wait to write more!!!

He had forgotten how beautiful the galaxy could be.

Before him, through the clear windshield of the dilapidated transport ship, laid an expanse of towering mountains of green, thick like the jungles of Yavin IV he knew so well, and vast like the breath of the galaxy he was only beginning to familiarize himself with. In the valleys that sat between the intimidating heights of the jungle were ponds and lakes, illuminated by the contrast of their soft pink hue and the sunlight from three suns beating down on them overhead. And within each jaw-dropping landscape they flew over, the lanky jungle trees stretched high and interwoven with each other and the depths of the gentle pink lakes, he caught glimpses of the hidden civilization.

Stone buildings of dark brown granite hidden beneath the twisted green vines and thick, overgrown tree trunks, windows of reflective glass cascading like waterfalls built back into the shape of the mountains. From as high as they were, flying above in the shaky transport ship, he could make out the movement of the people through the trees and on wooden crescent boats out in the milky pink water of the lake, working as the suns bore down on their backs.

Flying in his X-wing, he had mission objectives and responsibilities. He travelled from point A to point B and never lingered in one place for longer than he needed to, not with the First Order patrols cracking down across the galaxy. He couldn’t remember the last time he had travelled so slow, the last time he got to truly see the colors of the universe around him which normally passed in hyperspeed blurs.

He had forgotten how beautiful the galaxy could be.

“Wow…” the awe fell from his lips unconsciously as his eyes stayed wide, scanning the horizon not only out of necessity given their flight path, but because he couldn’t look anywhere else. The D’Qar jungle was said to be beautiful, as beautiful as this, but for the past months he had been tasked with growing their new base there, he saw the inside of buildings and the burn of haunting fluorescent lights more than he did the real greenery and sunlight.

It was… breathtaking to say the least.

“I thought I misremembered,” the calm and collected voice of the General sounded off over his shoulder as he slowed his speed to navigate a lofty bit of cloud cover that surrounded the tops of the mountainous valleys he navigated between. “I convinced myself somehow that no place in the galaxy could be as beautiful as I remembered but I was wrong.”

He couldn’t blame her. If he wasn’t seeing it with his own eyes as his hands gripped tight to the controls of the ship, he wasn’t sure he would have believed it either.

Waterfalls of the lightest pink hue, the sparkling of the natural granite deposits in the rock which shined equally as bright as the city construction as they continued over it, the polished rock made into skyscrapers which rivaled the surrounding mountains in height, the natural overgrowth of green vines and thick canopy tree tops… the more he saw, the more Poe found himself overwhelmed by the beauty.

“How far until the palace?” He hummed with a brief quirk of his jaw back over his shoulder to Leia as his eyes stayed trained on the intricate habitational design and fields woven between towering structures which shadowed over smaller homes which led to more fields and rivers, rocks and jungle.

“Not far, it’s impossible to miss.”

It hadn’t made sense at that moment, but he refrained from asking her to expand, trusting that whatever she meant would be clear to him as they kept going. Within the following minute, his trust proved itself.

The nose of the ship lifted slightly to get them over a particularly tall mountain top, and as the clouds cleared away while he nosed back into the valley below, he found the most gorgeous architectural and natural displays he had ever laid his eyes on. Built, like the hidden structures he had seen earlier, into the most commanding mountain of sparkling brown granite in the landscape before him, the palace was a delicate, yet proud masterpiece with spires as high as the clouds and a bustling marketplace pouring out the front of it, spilling towards the shore of the pink ocean before it.

Banners of colors brighter than he even knew existed fluttered in the wind coming in off the coast throughout the marketplace, and as he brought the ship in to a stop at the surrounding rim of the mountain above the palace’s top spires where all the other ships sat, he began to notice the vibrant crowd which flowed from the boats in the water all the way through the palace gates. He loved his home with all his heart, but this was the most beautiful place in the galaxy. It had to be.

He and Leia quickly unloaded from the non-descript ship, and Poe made sure to leave his blaster secure in the cockpit as Leia had instructed him earlier, taking only his jacket and communicator with him. A jacket he quickly realized he would not be needing as the two of them stepped out amongst the ships atop the mountain and felt the overwhelming heat from the suns above them.

“Don’t be too in awe, we are here for a reason.” He glanced back from where he stood near the edge of the flattened mountain top to see Leia stood as regal as ever with her hands linked behind her back and her stare that of a careful mother. “An important reason,” she minded once more and he had no choice but to nod.

As he reluctantly pulled away from teh edge and joined her at her side while they drew closer to the nearby lift and the mindlessly chatting guards stood around it, he couldn’t help but voice the one thought he couldn’t get out of his mind,“I can’t imagine a place like this ever allying with the First Order.”

With a voice lowered closer to that of a whisper while they passed the guards, Leia carefully minded him again, “There is a complicated history to Haiki, as beautiful as it is.”

“All the briefing memo said was that they were great allies during the war, pacifists, but great allies.” He responded in an equally hushed tone until the doors to their lift shut and they began descending deep into the dark, sparkling rock. “You said their leader was a friend.”

“Their King and Queen were friends of mine while I was still living on Alderaan and fighting with the rebellion, unfortunately the queen died shortly after the Empire fell and their king has been sick for almost as long.” She explained as the thick walls of granite passed quickly by them as they continued to descend.

“Who are we here to meet with then?”

The lift came to a stop at the bottom and the doors opened to a dense crowd of people, all dressed in vibrant colors of thick woven fabric, skin decorated with thick strokes of black ink in intricate designs that varied from body to body. But as much as Poe wished to step forward and immerse himself into the lively crowd of the market, Leia’s firm grip on the elbow of his jacket pulled him in the opposite direction, towards an open doorway outlined by beautiful branches and bright flowers as her words quickly pulled him back to the reality of their mission there.

“We’re meeting with the Princess,” Leia answered as they continued down the hall illuminated by windows which brought cascades of bright light into the halls as they travelled in a direction which seemed to Poe as if it were going deeper into the rock of the mountain. “I’ve met her before, but she was young, now she runs the whole planet and, from what I can tell, is not as eager about our alliance as her parents were.”

“You think she’s fielding threats from the First Order? You said they were pacifists--”

“It’s not about weapons or defense, it’s about supplies.” Leia sighed as the two of them came to a halt in the middle of the hallway, allowing the few locals who were walking behind them to pass in front and leave them alone with the bright sunlight. “We need their support, the medicine they create, the food they grow… If we don’t get it, I don’t know how much longer we can survive.”

Poe nodded, his overgrown curls bouncing with the nod of his head as he glanced around the empty hall and began pulling his jacket off his already sweat-slicked back.

He knew they were there for support, but the briefing memo had been vague on purpose. No one else could know they were there, no one could know why they were there. If there was a leak, if the First Order somehow found out that the Resistance was reliant on Hakian support to survive, they’d decimate the entire planet, strip mine them for their resources and slaughter their peaceful population.

He trusted their people, and he knew Leia did too, but he also understood why he had to be kept in the dark until now. This was just too important.

“When we get in to see her, you’ll call her only ‘princess’ or ‘dekka’, never by her first name unless she gives you permission. And make sure you keep your distance, be respectful,” Leia warned as they slowly began walking again, turning a corner and entering another well-lit hall still travelling deeper into the mountain it seemed. “They are sticklers for tradition here and we can’t afford to play around.”

“What does ‘dekka’ mean?”

“Respected one.” She answered quickly, keeping her voice close to him as another person came into view at the end of the hall.

The man towered just like the mountains they flew through did, taller than any human man Poe had seen in person, nearly wookie height if he was being honest. But there was nothing intimidating about him, he merely flashed a bright smile and opened his arms in a welcoming stance.

“Princess Leia, it is an honor to see you again.” The man bellowed out, meeting them at the end of the hall where it let out into a gorgeous room of tall ceilings and windows that stretched from the polished granite floor all the way up to the tallest rafters of twisted vine and tree root, letting in an electric amount of natural light.

Leia quickly unlinked her hands from behind her back and wrapped them around the man, who stood at nearly twice her height, in a solid embrace. “Elias, it’s an honor to see you as well.”

“I had no idea you were coming, whatever can I help you with?” His thick accent continued to cut through the air, louder than Leia could muster by several dozen decibels. His command over the basic language wasn’t too strong, but he certainly made up for his shortcomings with heart and confidence.

However, no amount of strength of heart could overwrite the confusion outlined by his words, leaving an unsettling feeling in Poe’s gut. Judging by the slight deflation in Leia’s commanding stance, it was clear he wasn’t the only one.

“No idea…” Leia chuckled nervously, trailing off with a brief shake of her braids. “We were meant to meet with Dekka Anya-Va, is she not here?”

Elias’ chuckle was equally as unsettled, something was wrong.

“She hasn’t been in all day,” he added as another rough chuckle escaped his lips, “I didn’t know she had schedule, she didn’t tell me…”

Seven hours. That’s how far away Haiki was from D’Qar when travelling as fast as possible in the only non-resistance ship available, an old, deteriorating transport ship. He spent seven hours behind the controls on a trembling, shaking ship, and the Princess they were supposed to be meeting with to secure necessary supplies for the resistance was not there? Was this some kind of joke?

If it was, he didn’t find it very funny.

Leia glanced back over her shoulder, finding the waiting confusion that covered Poe’s face and turned back to Elias wearing a very similar look. “She hasn’t been in at all?”

“She’s been… cutting me off, isolating herself from her advisors… I don’t know…” He stuttered over each and every word, clearly pulling them from a particularly painful place in his chest.

And on any other day, Poe might have cared about the way the towering man’s intimidating voice trembled in his explanation. The overwhelmingly empathetic heart that beat steadily in his chest was accustomed to feeling for anyone from anywhere across the galaxy, but in this moment, the weight of the resistance was too apparent on his shoulders.

If Leia said they needed this Princess to save the resistance, then that was that. They needed this Princess, and hearing that she was circumventing her advisors as much as she was avoiding their meeting only increased the nerves in his unsettled stomach.

“You are welcome to wait for her in the throne room, I will send her your way whenever I find her…” Elias made a desperate attempt to relight the smile that had fallen from Leia’s diplomatic lips, but it only succeeded somewhat, as much as Leia could muster, feeling the same weight that Poe felt sitting heavy on her shoulders.

“Thank you, Elias.” Leia bowed her head, and Elias quickly did the same.

But the second Leia turned away from him and began nudging Poe back in the direction they came from, her diplomatic disposition fell away, returning her harsh, commanding stare.

“She’s avoiding us?” Poe was quick to question as their pace hastened back down the brightly illuminated halls leading back to the busy marketplace.

Leia shook her head, keeping her voice low as the two of them walked, shoulder to shoulder. “Remember when you asked if I thought she was fielding First Order threats already? I think we just got our answer.”

“What do we do?”

As the two of them entered back out into the dense crowd of the marketplace, Leia gave a brief shrug, still tugging him along with her as she fought against the flow of tattooed people. “Now, we have to find her.”

“Do you know where to look?”

The stare Leia gave him was one he was all too familiar with. It was the same look he got when he asked questions about procedure he already knew the answer to, the same look he got when he asked questions he knew she wouldn’t answer. It was a look that meant one thing. The simplest answer, the easier answer, the obvious one that was punching him directly in the face, was the answer he should be looking for.

And with Leia, when it came to asking if she knew anything, the answer was without a doubt, a resounding ‘yes’.

Following the banners, each one a color more vibrant than the last, Leia continued to push him through the marketplace. As they exited the front gate of the palace, the market grew impossibly larger and the crowd more dense, every soul moving with a specific purpose, from stall to stall with shoulders carrying heavy bags and faces bright with electric smiles.

Poe couldn’t remember the last time he saw so many smiles in such a densely packed region.

The sun was beating down hot on his back, slicking his curls to his forehead in a light coating of sweat, but everyone around him seemed oblivious to it, either too distracted by the spices piled high in the booths, wafting a plethora of new scents around the beautiful square, or the swaths of fabrics covered in intricate stitches and designs. Was this what life was like where the war didn’t touch?

People could walk around, fully immersed in their own vibrant culture wearing smiles brighter than the multiple suns which hung above them, seemingly without a care in the world when it came to the slaughtering and genocide happening around the galaxy at the hands of the First Order? Did they even know?

Did the parents who let their kids run around with tightly woven baskets piled high with spiky blue fruit even know about the children across the galaxy who were stolen from their families and conscripted as nameless troopers? Did the elderly who sat off to the side even know that just last week, a village of respected elders on Nantoo were mowed down indiscriminately by First Order officers looking to set up base on their sacred land? Did any of them even know about the war?

If he lived here, maybe he could understand it. Maybe…

But Stars, was ignorance really bliss when millions were being slaughtered?

“I knew she’d be here…” Leia sighed, pulling Poe’s attention back to her pursuit as the market began to thin out closer to the pink translucent shore packed with crescent shaped boats of dark wood unloading at the docks. He didn’t know where to let his stare fall however, the water immediately took his attention, but as Leia kept walking, he fought to both find her stare and follow it in the same direction.

The shore wasn’t packed, but there were just enough bodies to keep him guessing even as he followed Leia’s focus. Where was she looking--

He found her.

Nothing had changed, he still didn’t know exactly where Leia’s stare was directed nor did he have any verbal confirmation that he was looking in the right direction, but he was sure of himself, overwhelmingly sure of himself as his stare landed on the detailed tattoos that covered the back of the lone woman sat on the damp shore, isolated from the crowd.

The thin interwoven fabric of the maroon dress that cascaded down her form was exquisite in it’s intricately stitched details, but nothing compared to the thick, jet black ink stripes that crested over her back and arms, the extent of the skin he could see from the angle they were approaching with. Everyone he had seen so far on this planet had some form of similar markings, be it extensive designs sprawling up their arms or small delicate images drawn on their hands or necks, but none compared to what he saw on her skin.

It was like the dark ink was woven around her, like a vine crawling it’s way up a tree. Or maybe more aptly, it was a web, drawn by a diligent insect or maybe even claw marks from a creature, thick where the wounds ran the deepest and thin at the start and ends of each mark.

Haiku itself was one of the most beautiful planets in the galaxy, but the woman before him was more beautiful than even that.

It took an elbow in the side from Leia to snap him back to reality.

“Why don’t you let me do most of the talking, yeah?” She countered, a knowing quirk to her brow as she nudged him again with her elbow.

He wanted to argue back but Leia had already begun walking ahead of him and the second he moved to catch up, a large guard stepped up to block their path.

This man was tall, like Elias back in the palace was, but he didn’t wear his intimidating height the same way. He was much broader in the shoulders, much wider in his stance, effectively blocking any line of sight either Poe or Leia had towards the princess. Yet unlike Elias, there was no friendly greeting, no real acknowledgement at all besides his narrowed scowl down towards the two of them.

For a planet of self-proclaimed pacifists, Poe wasn’t really feeling at peace.

Not until the soft hum of her voice flowed in from the gentle lull of the shore. “It’s alright, Xia, let them through.”

The wall of a man quickly stepped aside on her orders, revealing the exhausted collapse of her shoulders while she began to pull herself back up to her feet. The languid pull of her muscles was obvious with the delicate cut of the maroon dress across her skin, which contrasted the blood color of the fabric with a dark brown glow, not unlike the sparkle of the magnificent granite mountains under the overhead suns.

“Dekka Anya-Va…” Leia addressed carefully but was quickly cut off by the return of her coarse hum of a voice.

“I was hoping by not being at the palace that you would get the impression I didn’t want to meet with you,” her accent was thick, much like Elias’s but her comfort with the language was much more evident as it flowed much smoother from her lips despite the natural raspiness to her tone. It was a mesmerizing sound, complemented by the dulcet tone of the gentle waves, making it something he could easily get lost in if it wasn’t for his ability to still hear the words for what they were.

Condescending. Nearly mocking if he was being honest. It just didn’t sit well with him, not when directed towards Leia.

“We got the impression, we just ignored it,” Leia countered, pushing her careful tone to the side in favor of the tone she used when addressing her Commanders, a tone that commanded respect, even if the Princess seemed too aloof to provide it.

She let out a rugged chuckle at that, jagged at the edges where it seemed to have fought through her throat and out from her perfectly shaped lips. “We…” she hummed, “I wasn’t aware you were bringing friends.”

The pointed tips of her words were sent like daggers with her stare as she turned from Leia to where Poe stood right beside her, hands linked behind his back and still holding his jacket in a tight grip. But as personal an assault it seemed, when he opened his lips to respond, Leia was quick to cut him off.

“I--”

“This is my pilot, Commander Dameron.”

As unamused as the princess seemed to be, she still did a lot of stone-faced laughter, and that theme held true as her stare held on Poe’s furrowed and focused face. “Does the Commander have a first name?”

With a quick glance to Leia, then back to the Princess, he finally spoke for himself, answering “Poe,” simply.

He didn’t know what he thought throwing his name into the conversation would add, but he couldn’t determine any reason why not to add it, not until the Princess turned her stare back to Leia and shuddered her shoulders back into a steady stance with her chin raised. “Would you mind telling Poe he can go wait by your ship, I don’t imagine it will be a long conversation.”

There it was again. Aloof, condescending, mocking even. Poe couldn’t stand it.

“Excuse me--”

“Actually, Dekka Va, I brought him so he could join our talks,” Leia explained, one of her hands shooting up quickly to keep him in place by her side as she felt the heat of his temper rise with her words.

“He doesn’t seem like he’d be much for conversation.”

He realized his natural disposition may not have been the most diplomatic, he also realized that hot-headed and cocky weren’t necessarily the best qualities for negotiating delicate alliances, but if she was allowed to talk to him with the tone she was taking, he was having a hard time understanding why Leia was keeping him silent. Why even bring him along?

It was infuriating. She was infuriating. She wouldn’t meet them in the palace, she was hiding on the beach, she was biting back with each and every one of her responses. He understood the alliance between her planet and the resistance was important, he really did, but why in the kriff was he even there--

“Dekka Anya-Va, I assure you, Poe is one of my most trusted Commanders and when our discussion eventually turns to shipment methods, he is the only one I trust for routes and numbers--” Leia began, still holding her hand out carefully in front of Poe only to drop it the second the Princess shrugged her shoulders and cut her off the same way she had been cutting Poe off.

“There will be no shipment discussions.”

“Dekka--”

“I apologize for avoiding the meeting, but it wasn’t accidental, I truly have no interest in meeting with you, General.” She continued, using the brief second they stood silent and frozen in shock to navigate around them and back towards the market.

Leia was the first to break out of it, Poe trailing behind, but he still remained quiet, holding back his boiling temper as the General continued to argue.

“It’s a rather important conversation that we need to have.”

The princess continued forward as if she barely noticed them following, and as the density of the market's population began to increase the closer they moved to the palace, she made no move to slow her careful and practiced step through the crowd to accommodate their trailing. Again, condescending and aloof.

Leia broke his train of thought again as she fought with a quickened pace to find her way to her side and continue her argument just within range of Poe’s ears. “A face-to-face meeting will allow us to discuss our deal more intimately, take away any fears you may have and--”

If she cut Leia off one more time, it wouldn’t matter that she was the most respected being on this planet, Poe wasn’t going to be able to keep quiet for much longer.

“I’m not afraid of anything, General.”

Before either Leia or Poe, with his temper steadily boiling over, could mount another argument, the princess pulled one of her guards aside, retrieving a small pouch of golden coins from him and turning back to the stall that had caught her eye in the first place. It was the stall they had passed earlier, filled with children and the spiky blue fruits which had caught his eye as he thought about the rest of the galaxy.

And it was exactly where the princess was kneeling down.

Her rough tone of voice, coated in it’s natural raspiness, flowed out much easier in her native tongue as she let a genuine smile take over her lips. The kids running the booth were bouncing out of their boots as she lowered herself to their level, and their excitement only grew as they began talking to one another in the Hakian language. It would have been heartwarming if Poe weren’t so frustrated.

He didn’t understand what they were saying and it was clear as he glanced toward Leia and saw her focused brow that she didn’t understand the words being spoken either, but from the shared interactions, he had a pretty decent idea what was transpiring.

She asked a question, the kids nervously responded, shaking their heads and trying to offer their product for free before she convinced them to accept her coin. Again, a heartwarming display that he didn’t have time for.

The sun was hot, boiling hot down the back of his neck, and the anger bubbling from within his chest was heating him up from the inside out, making the whole experience ten times worse. He didn’t need to see any heartwarming display, he needed to say something, and he was becoming increasingly overwhelmed with the feeling that when he did, things wouldn’t go well.

Yet the moment seemed to be drawing closer and closer as the Princess stood back to full height with a bag full of the spiky fruit, passing her coins back to her guard. He was ready to open his mouth, to unload on her with the same hot-headed cockiness that Leia feared he would lead with, but he was again denied the chance as she silenced him by turning her back to the two of them and reentering the crowd, heading back towards the palace.

It wasn’t until they were down an isolated hallway of the palace that she turned back, opening the bag of fruit and pulling three of the spiked fruit out easily.

“Dekka--” Leia tried, but the princess silenced her, sticking one of the fruits into her hand before carelessly tossing one in Poe’s direction.

She was making a point, and they had no choice but to stand there and take it.

“This is Mewe, one of our planet’s sweetest fruits,” she hummed, holding up one of her own and turning it gently for them to admire even if all Poe could manage was a subtle roll of his eyes. “They cannot grow anywhere else, they require massive amounts of sunlight, and they are one of the most versatile fruits that exist anywhere in the galaxy, edible on their own, full of health, easily fermented, their juice can soothe sore throats and upset stomachs...”

Puncturing the tough, spiky skin with one of her nails, the vibrant teal juices began to drain quickly out of the shell, too quick for even her quick mouth to catch as she brought the fruit to her lips. The following bite she took was effortless following her brief struggle with the dripping juices, and as much as Poe hated whatever point she was trying to make with this display, as Leia followed her lead and took a bite, he had no choice but to do the same.

And as desperate as he was to stay boiling with anger when he looked at her, even with teal juices dripping down around the corner of her mouth, his mind was flooded with a delicious distraction the second his tongue touched the inner meat of the vibrant fruit. It wasn’t enough for Haiki to be the most beautiful planet in the galaxy, nor was it enough for her to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in person, they also needed to have the most overwhelming natural fruits.

Each hesitant chew he took sparked flavors across his tongue, wild, exotic, unlike anything he had ever tasted before. It wasn’t just that his diet had consisted of bland ration packs for the past few years, the taste was truly sweeter and more complex than anything he had ever had on his tongue.

As much as he hated giving her the satisfaction, while he looked up from the greenish inside of the skin to find her careful stare, he could see that he was doing little to hide his overwhelming satisfaction with the flavor given her increasingly smug smirk.

“Haiki is a special place, I don’t think you realize that.” The Princess continued carefully, shifting her stare back to Leia directly.

“We do, Dekka, however--”

“I don’t think you do.” She was quick to counter. “You would have me pledge my sponsorship to your futile movement and sacrifice my planet and the millions of souls who live here to the wrath of the First Order with nothing to offer me in return. You must think my planet worthless.”

Leia shook her head, taking a brief second to swallow the rest of the fruit she held in her mouth and regain her composure in order to fight back, “We can offer your planet protection from the First Order--”

“Because that worked so well for Alderaan, Raysho, Cardota and Courtsilius?” Again, the princess, without hesitation, cut her off. And this time, Poe was done holding his tongue, the heat finally sending his anger boiling over.

“And pledging your allegiance to a sociopathic regime of murderers is preferable?”

It was exactly what Leia had feared. It was the exact reason she had tried so hard to keep him quiet. Not because she feared he would shoot and miss, but because of his tone.

Each word drenched in a level of disrespect he hadn’t earned with her, stepping over a line he didn’t even realize, but one Leia couldn’t help him back from, even as she reached up to grab hold of him to prevent his anger from carrying him closer to the Princess and making things worse.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my planet.” She held her stance even as Poe stepped up, making no move but the slight uptick of her chin as he got closer. “As a peaceful planet, we have no options to arm ourselves outside of diplomacy and the First Order is being far more convincing.”

“Whatever they’ve said is lies, you can’t seriously consider trusting them.” He spoke like a man with no knowledge of his actions, entirely oblivious to the way her guard tightened their stances the closer he got, too blinded by his anger as she continued to argue back against him.

“Because the resistance has never lied to us? Because you can be trusted implicitly on your word?”

With another step forward, eliminating any space between the two of them, Poe effectively cut Leia and her futile attempts to get him to back down out of the conversation. “What have they promised you? Safety? Isolation from the war? It’s only a matter of time before they are enslaving your people and stealing your resources--”

“They’ve promised me protection and have been nothing but cordial, unlike you and your failing resistance.” She scoffed, shaking her small bun of greying hair enough to let loose a few strands as she refused to back down. “So you’d do best to mind yourself before you overstep a boundary you can’t walk back from.”

There was a sense of finality to her tone as she ended her sentence, one Leia picked up on immediately, but even as she moved to grab more forcefully at Poe’s arm to pull him back to reality, he continued to fight his way out of it. Hot-headed, stubborn, cocky. She should have known better than to bring him along. She should have known things would go the way they were going.

“You want me to play nice? People are dying.”

Everything that happened next happened all too fast. The words came spewing from Poe’s lips and as the Princess turned away, no longer requiring herself to be subject to his cruel intonation, he reached out and grabbed her arm before he could be stopped.

In the back of his mind, he could still hear the echoing warning Leia had provided him, telling him to keep his distance and speak with nothing but respect, but the flashes of war echoing in his head and the fire burning in his chest were crackling too loud for anything else to matter. A part of him knew it was out of line, that same part of him was begging for him to stop, and yet his hand still found the smooth, tattooed skin of her forearm, holding her in place as she moved to turn away in frustration.

Leia took a strong hold on the sweat-soaked back of his shirt and yanked him back, but the damage had already been done. “Stand down, Dameron,” she tried out but by the time he released her arm, the guards had already descended upon him, gripping him by each arm and kicking the backs of his legs in to drop him to his knees.

“I think the damage has been done, General.” Her voice was firm in her resolve and equally firm as her language switched and her tongue released a flurry of orders towards the guards who held the stubborn, fighting Dameron on his knees.

“What the kriff-- I barely touched her--” He fought as their grips grew tighter, forcing him frozen where they held him.

Leia tried again, this time not to hold Poe back but to carefully convince the princess, “Dekka Anya-Va, please…”

But her mind was made up and nothing either of them could do would change that.

“We’ll let him think himself over with a sleep in our cells,” she explained to Leia as her stare then fell back to the squirming form of the curly haired and now defenseless pilot. “You can leave with him in the morning.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“No, but it seems you might be.” The rough, raspiness to her tone which had been so distracting as it filtered out her accent shifted to something nearly playful, as if the whole display before her was amusing. He was being restrained by a towering guard of thick muscle on each side and she had the audacity to chuckle so plainly in his face, only making him fight more even if he knew it was futile.

Leia stepped forward carefully towards the princess but before she could muster any last defense, the princess gave a wave of her hand and the guards, with shoulders wide in intimidating bulk, heaved the fighting pilot to his feet and began backing him up, dragging him in the opposite direction.

“Dekka Anya-Va, let me apologize for his actions--”

“Mensha?” Her raspy voice interrupted the General before any real defense could leave her lips, ushering a young maid out from the small crowd which gathered around the display. “Please escort the General to a room where she can wait, give her anything she needs.”

“Dekka Anya-Va--”

“I’m not my mother, General, the sooner you learn that, the better for all of us involved.”

The long walk back into the depths of the granite palace was all too lonely as the Princess dismissed each and every member of her staff which approached her, even waving away the genuine concern on Elias’ brow and leaving him in the halls as she continued to the throne room. Her back was screaming out from the straight form she maintained with each and every step, but she held her stance and walked on, shoulders firm and chin up, just as she was taught. If anyone passed her, they had to see her as what she was, their leader.

And leaders didn’t waver, no matter how strong the vacuum of emptiness swirling within their chest was, not when there were eyes to see.

But the second the towering doors of intricate dark oak shut behind her, leaving her alone in the expansive and empty throne room, her shoulders fell in, collapsing her perfect form as her chin fell to her chest. The weight which settled there was too great, and the hollow gorge that tore through her heart was too powerful.

Did he really think it was that easy?

Her throat burned with the heat rising out of her chest and her legs grew weaker with each step until she collapsed back against the exquisite throne of dark, sparkling granite consumed by overgrown vines, the words from the hot-headed pilot echoing through her mind, latching onto every thought.

Did he think it was all that simple? Did he think she saw the blood on the hands of the First Order and so easily ignored it? Did he think it was that easy?

A sociopathic, murderous regime… did he really think she didn’t realize what they were?

The bubbling in her gut continued on as her thoughts swarmed with a buzzing around her mind and her head fell forward into her hands where her elbows rested on her knees. Her fingers made furious circles of her temples but it made no difference, his words were there, haunting her mind and inescapable.

Did they really think she didn’t know right from wrong?

With the responsibility for millions of souls resting heavy on her back, the fate of her kind in her hands, it just wasn’t as easy as good versus bad. No matter how badly she wished it was.

“Dekka Anya-Va,” the faint voice of one of her staffed maids entered her thoughts as the small woman carefully tiptoed into the room. “The prisoner is… angrily shouting for a meeting with you.”

Her back straightened on instinct, sending a shooting pain up her spine with the quick pace of the change. A pain she could barely mask with her regal tone as turned her stare towards the young woman, “we’ll leave him to calm himself down for now.”

“Of course, Dekka.”

As the door shut again, leaving her alone with her thoughts again, a sigh of insurmountable exhaustion fell from her lips and she collapsed back into the uncomfortable shape of stone.

If only things could be that simple...

tags: (open)

@cammisanders @rogueonestan @blacksquadron-rougetwo @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @trust-dreamcatcher @mistermiraclee @witchyavenger @randomness501 @buckstaposition

#poe dameron #star wars #poe dameron x oc #golden series #princess au #princess leia #general organa

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