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oreomonsterhunter · 3 years

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Daring Deception - Part I

Pairing: Jimin x Original Character

Word Count: 3428

Warnings: extremely veiled mention of sex, vague threat with a fork

Summary: BTS in Regency era London. Cordelia meets Jimin at her family’s ball. Does she dare to dance with him?

Masterlist

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Footsteps sounded on the polished stone floor, coming to a halt at her side. “My dance card is full,” Cordelia said sharply, not bothering to turn her head.

Her uninvited guest bent down, picking up the crumpled paper by her foot. “Full, you say?” a smooth voice inquired. While he was preoccupied, she cast a cursory glance over the man. Blonde hair, fingers bare of any rings, a surcoat of surprising taste—she gathered he was within a few years of her age, no more than twenty-five, and still unmarried. When he straightened, she directed her gaze back towards the rest of the party, only able to glean the impression of smiling eyes from her periphery.

Cordelia crossed her arms despite how it wrinkled the fabric of her dress—her mother would be cross. “Definitely full.”

The man eased up to her side, inches from her elbow. For a few minutes, the two of them watched the dancers in silence, content in the shadows along the back wall. They were surrounded by crowds of revelers and bejeweled figures and yet almost alone.

When the stranger spoke again, she frowned. She’d hoped he would take the hint and leave her be. Or at least be quiet if he was going to hover around an uninterested lady. One he hadn’t even been introduced to—his lack of appreciation for the rules of polite conversation was clear. “What are you doing lurking here anyway? Do you not wish to dance?” he asked.

Cordelia suppressed an unladylike snort. “I am not well equipped for dancing. Nor for preening with the other young ladies, flocking around the next eligible bachelor, or squawking over the latest gossip.”

“You most certainly are not a bird.”

She turned to him, shocked. And then blinked, shocked for an entirely different reason. So he was handsome, as well. Cordelia gave herself a good mental shake, focusing back on the ridiculousness of the man before her, rather than his charming features.

“A goose, if we’re naming particulars,” the man added, before shooting her a smile. Cordelia eyed him thoughtfully before turning back to her observation of the geese, as he put it. “Ah, I forget my manners, not that I use them often,” the man said with a short bow. “Jimin Park, at your service, my lady.”

Now she did snort, her gaze firmly set upon the dance floor. Or rather, the moulding on the far wall, as she refused to encourage Mr. Park any further. “I am no lady. Go find one to dance with and kindly leave me be, sir.”

“May I not have your name? Or are we well matched in lack of manners?” Cordelia caught a glimpse of his teasing smirk from the corner of her eye.

She turned to him, bobbed her head once, and muttered, “Cordelia Kim.” The expression upon his face was that of a cat who had finally gotten the cream. She pursed her lips, regretting attending the ball altogether. But her mother had insisted, and it was hosted by her own family, after all. “If you will excuse me,” she gave the barest impression of a curtsy and strode away.

Jimin matched her step for step, keeping pace as she wound her way across the room. “Oh please, play with me awhile. You looked just as bored as I am at these social functions. I’d hoped to find a kindred spirit, one who hates the niceties as much as I,” he beseeched her.

“You should not be seen talking to me,” Cordelia hissed at him as he trailed her.

“And why is that?”

“Because I am not yet out in society,” she spluttered, coming to a sudden halt behind a table laden with champagne flutes. “And my elder sister is not yet engaged to be married.”

“I’ve never been one to abide by all of society’s rules. And I didn’t think you were either,” he commented, looking at her thoughtfully. “All that aside, I think I’m making the smart move.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes to escape his gaze. “And what is that?”

“I thought it obvious—I’m getting ahead of the competition.”

“There is no competition,” she said.

“Ah, but there will be.” With this, Jimin paused, eyeing her. She stiffened, crossing her arms once more. Her skin prickled from phantom eyes digging into her skin, though a cautious glance at the crowd proved that no one was looking in their direction at all. And yet the tightness in the back of her throat remained, convinced that she was trapped beneath a spotlight of her own making. Cordelia curled her fingers around her upper arms, wishing suddenly and desperately to disappear.

She supposed Jimin had somehow been...entertaining? A pleasant diversion, at the very least, their verbal sparring serving as an excellent distraction. She had momentarily forgotten her fear, but now she could feel the weight of expectation, judgement, disappointment. Including his.

Jimin seemed to sense her discomfort, and rather than pressing her and taking advantage of her moment of weakness—as she might have expected from him, given his earlier persistence and general imitation of a thorn in her side—he switched to a more flippant tack. “Should I return you to the shadows, or would you like to see what happens when you disrupt the flock?”

Conscious of the fact that her body language exuded vulnerability, Cordelia forced her arms back down to her sides. She lifted her chin defiantly, “How so?”

A smile appeared on his lips, and a similar expression threatened to form on her own in response. “Dancing around the room counterclockwise, of course.”

She let out a stilted laugh. “But the dance turns clockwise.”

Jimin winked, “Precisely.”

Cordelia stared down at his outstretched hand for a long moment. She considered the man before her, the eyes on her back, the tittering ladies, and the prowling gentlemen on all sides. The dance floor yawned before her, a dark pit reaching for her toes. She started to shake her head, then Jimin leaned in, “I find that watching is a mere fraction of the fun of doing. Not everyone out there is smiling because they have to, you know.”

The world ground to a halt as she contemplated Mr. Park’s hand before her. Over his shoulder, she saw her sister, smiling widely as she bowed her head to her last dance partner. Her brothers were laughing over something, drinks in hand. Her parents were arm in arm, finishing a reel of their own, faces crinkled with a sort of delicate joy. Cordelia looked further, seeing polite expressions and gleeful ones, twinkling eyes and glinting glassware. She inhaled, chest rising sharply as she realized there were no eyes on her. No judging stares, no evaluations or gossip. She was safe.

And yet Jimin’s hand remained before her, a choice if she dared to make it. If she dared to leave the safety of the shadows, if she dared to seek out her own brand of happiness here. And she realized this choice was less about the man before her and more about herself. Looking into his dark gaze, she saw that same awareness in Jimin’s eyes. He tilted his head in a nearly imperceptible nod. Do you dare?

Her fingers only trembled slightly as she placed her hand in his.

And then they were off, counterclockwise as promised. The other dancers let out gasps and small shrieks as they dodged out of the way. One lady wound up in a cloud of skirts, having stumbled in her haste. And despite the fact that Cordelia wasn’t half the dancer that Jimin appeared to be—she had nearly tripped over her own feet several times already, as opposed to her partner, who seemed born to twirl the wrong way round the floor. Despite the multitude of eyes now boring into her back—just as she feared. Despite the stutter of the small orchestral group, the way her heart threatened to leap from her chest, and the scolding she was bound to receive later if her mother was among those watching. Despite it all, she was smiling. And when Jimin noticed, smirking at her, Cordelia’s grin only grew wider.

Before she knew it, the dance came to a close. Cordelia felt her nerves returning, but their arrival was postponed by Jimin’s breathless suggestion. He offered a second dance, done properly this time so that others might join in on the fun. She wasn’t sure if he knew she needed the distraction or not, and she didn’t particularly care, nodding with enough force to dislodge a hairpin.

By the end, her mind had caught up to her actions. Cordelia motioned for Mr. Park to stop and return her to the edge of the dance floor. “This was probably a mistake,” she muttered to herself with a groan.

Jimin, still arm in arm with her, overheard. “Oh certainly, but at least it was the memorable kind. Shall we continue with another dance? You’re a lovely partner.”

Cordelia shot him a scathing look, then turned and stormed away, yanking her arm from his grasp.

Jimin followed, as was his theme for the evening. Cordelia spun to face him when they were safely a few paces from the nearest guests. “Mr. Park, we cannot,” she admonished him sharply. “You are no fool. More than two sets of dances implies an engagement.”

“And?” he asked, an innocent expression upon his face.

“And?” she seethed. “That is not what is going on here. I met you scarcely half an hour ago.”

“A third dance implies an engagement—a thing that seems entirely in both of our favors,” Jimin said. “Unless you haven’t been avoiding every man’s gaze all evening. I know that I, for one, have been avoiding every ambitious mother in London for the past several years.”

She blinked at him, mind racing as she caught up with his plan. “You mean to act out an engagement as a mutually beneficial diversion? Are you insane?”

“Oh no, simply desperate to avoid becoming prey to every matchmaking mother of high society. And creative enough to find a way out, however unconventional it may be.” Jimin tilted his head, spinning slightly so that they were side by side once more, watching the room from the wings. She felt like his accomplice, plotting under the guise of gentle conversation, carefully out of earshot. She was suddenly struck with how odd it was—she felt so at ease with him, despite first meeting him such a short while ago. And odd that he was so cavalier, speaking so casually with her, a complete stranger.

Cordelia stared at his profile, suspicion bleeding into her tone as she asked, “Why me?”

Jimin didn’t turn to face her, he merely tilted his chin in her direction ever so slightly. “Because I look at you and see a mirror—someone who feels like an outsider despite being groomed to fit in all their life.”

Whatever she had expected, that answer was not it. Cordelia couldn’t tear her eyes from him as he looked upon the dancers. The man had been flippant and playful, where had such a sincere response come from?

“What happened to ‘getting ahead of the competition’?” she inquired.

“Ah, you haven’t let that slip,” he said with a quirk of his lips.

“I’m not going to marry you,” she told him, blunt as a bullet. “I’ve no plans to marry anyone at all, and you are no exception.”

Jimin finally turned to face her again, shock evident on his features. “Well then, if we’re being direct,” he started, then paused to look her up and down with exceeding slowness. She flamed red, half raising an arm as if to hit him, before remembering where they were—at a ball with no shortage of witnesses who would be happy to gossip until she was in the grave. Jimin smirked at her before continuing, eyes hooded as he held her gaze, “Who said I had any intent of marrying you either?”

“Mr. Park,” she ground out. “I will not take any more of your time if you find me so disagreeable to look at.” Cordelia made to move off, but Jimin caught her arm, fingers snagging her elbow.

“Far from it. I forget the innocence of young ladies, it would seem.” He moved closer than Cordelia had believed possible, his lips nearly brushing her ear. Warm breath fanned over her cheek as he spoke, “Rather than the lifelong commitment of marriage, I might propose a much shorter period of entertainment. Five minutes, perhaps?”

Cordelia cut off any further propositions with a firm stomp upon his toes, and was rewarded with a hiss of pain. She lifted her chin, looking down on him even though he was a hand width taller. “Consider yourself lucky, Mr. Park, that no one else heard you make such an obscene offer. Should you utter such sentiments again, well...there is more than one use for the salad forks.”

When Jimin lifted his face to meet her scathing glare, the last thing she expected to see was a wild grin. As if her poor manners thrilled him. Perhaps this was not as surprising as she first thought, considering his stated preference of entertainment.

“If you find that scandalous, prepare yourself for my true proposition—”

“Jimin? I mean, Mr. Park,” a voice fumbled in surprise, cutting off whatever odious suggestion was about to come out of Jimin’s mouth. Cordelia whipped around to see her brother, Taehyung, approaching. “I hardly believed my eyes, it is you! Dragged back to London at last?”

Jimin stepped past her without a second look, clasping hands with Taehyung in easy familiarity. “Mother calls, I answer,” he joked. She noticed that his grin was much more subdued.

Taehyung appeared to notice her at last, brows shooting up to his hairline. “It seems you’ve met my sister. Cordelia, this is one of my best friends from school, Mr. Jimin Park.”

Cordelia watched as the blood drained from Jimin’s face. “Your sister?”

* * * * *

“Your friend must have a terrible memory, or did you never speak of your family with him? Am I not your favorite sister?” Cordelia knocked her shoulder into Taehyung’s as they ascended the stairs. Their parents were occupied, saying goodnight to the straggling guests on their way out to the carriages.

Taehyung had taken advantage of the lack of supervision by snagging two remaining champagne flutes, downing one and collecting the other to take with him. He’d offered her a glass as well, but she declined.

“You wound me, sister,” he said between sips. “Of course I spoke of you, sparingly and with little to no physical description.”

She stopped and shoved his shoulder with a bit more force. “What does that mean?”

He laughed, “It means I wouldn’t trust him with your hand, and I had no desire to tempt fate by speaking of my sisters overmuch.”

Cordelia heaved out a sigh, “You don’t say.” She contemplated Jimin’s rakish proposal with a grimace. She shook her head, skipping up the last few steps. “I introduced myself, but he seemed forgetful of my family name. Is such poor memory typical of Mr. Park?”

Taehyung looked at her with wide eyes, “Oh sister, please tell me he didn’t say anything uncouth.” Cordelia shrugged, doing her best to keep all emotion from her face. “No, I suppose that’s not typical. He’s quite sharp, and had some of the highest marks in our classes.”

She hummed softly, deciding that matched up with Jimin’s razor wit, if not the lack of manners. “Alright then, a different question: why were you so surprised to see him?”

“Why so many questions at all?”

“Why so many deflections?”

Taehyung narrowed his eyes at her, then finished the last bit of champagne in his flute, placing it on a servant’s tray as they passed by. “He’s not the type to take women seriously, if you catch my meaning. Don’t set your sights upon him, do you understand?”

Cordelia tipped her head to the side. “So something kept him out of London, something you don’t want me to know.”

He sighed heavily, “Cordelia.”

“Presumably something within the family, if you will not lower yourself to common gossip.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully, “Even if it’s with your twin sister.”

“Fine,” Taehyung threw his hands up. “He stayed out of London so his parents would not force him to marry. Are you satisfied? Are there any other private matters you wish to delve into?”

“No, that will suffice,” she said with a grin. She popped onto her toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “And not to worry, I have no interest in marrying him. Or any sort of engagement at all. You know me, I was curious. I love secrets,” she giggled.

“I hope you love your room as well,” a voice called up the stairs. Cordelia blanched, turning to face her mother. “Because you will not be leaving it for a week. And you shall pray every night that there is no gossip of my daughter dancing improperly, and not even out in society!”

“But mother,” Cordelia began, shoulders slumping.

“But nothing. You know better by now, and your behavior reflects poorly on all of us. Not to mention your sister—hopefully her suitor has not changed his mind on her because of your antics.” Her mother lifted her chin, “Now, to bed. Both of you.”

Taehyung smirked, “Best of luck. I’ll bring you biscuits if you need them.”

Cordelia sent him a long-suffering look, but any retort was interrupted by their father, who appeared at the base of the stairs with a glowing grin. “Lord Charles Dunn of Elmswood has asked permission for Eleanore’s hand in marriage.”

Taehyung gaped like a fish, her mother no better. “Eleanore,” she called up the stairs, Cordelia’s transgressions temporarily forgotten. “Cordelia, go fetch your sister.”

She obeyed, grabbing her skirts in one hand as she darted down the hallway to her sister’s room. “El, did you hear?” she gasped, barging into the room without hesitation.

Eleanore, seated at the vanity, turned slowly. “Yes,” she murmured, fingers working on removing the pins in her hair. “He proposed yesterday, on our walk in the gardens. I accepted.”

“You’re getting married,” Cordelia repeated, not quite able to wrap her mind around it.

Eleanore simply laughed, finally reaching the requisite levels of happiness for marriage, or at least the levels that Cordelia would have expected. “Why yes, I am. Come, let’s go celebrate the good news with mother. Maybe she’ll be too excited about this to remember your dancing,” Eleanore teased. “At the very least, the town will forget in favor of my engagement announcement. You have nothing to worry about.”

Cordelia sagged, slipping her arm through Eleanore’s, resting her head on her elder sister’s shoulder in relief. “I regret it so much now, but I had quite a bit of fun.” Then she lifted her head again. “El, are you happy? You’d tell me if you weren’t, if you didn’t want to marry Lord whoever. Wouldn’t you?”

Eleanore smiled, nudging her into the hallway. “Of course I would. I could never lie to you, you’d sniff it out in a heartbeat.”

Cordelia grinned back at her, “Your future husband better keep that in mind.”

“All of London had best keep that in mind,” Eleanore said with a laugh. “My darling sister, the finest bloodhound. You’ll go through your suitors much faster than I did.”

“What do you mean?” she asked as they made their way down the hall, their mother’s excited voice growing louder with each step.

Eleanore laughed softly, “You’ll figure them all out—what they want, what they really mean, whether they’re truly interested. It’s all a dance, really.” She paused, bringing Cordelia to a stop beside her. “Some men will be after your title or dowry, you’ll figure them out faster than the rest. Some will be after your good looks, you’ll be able to spot them from across the room, most likely. And some will be interested in your conversation, and those are the ones you’ll agree to meet again, knowing your taste.”

“What if I’d rather not marry anyone,” Cordelia confessed. “I simply cannot see myself living with a stranger for the rest of my life.”

Eleanore raised a brow, “You’re smart enough to know better than that. Our only choice in life is which man to bet on.”

As they descended the stairs, Cordelia’s mind whirled. If men like Jimin were her only option, she’d rather not bet on any man at all.

More to come! Cordelia and Jimin have completely taken over my brain, so I have no idea how long this story will be tbh, but rest assured there will be more. Plus I may or may not have ideas for the rest of the members 😉

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the-al-chemist · 3 years

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Ophelia Amy Burke

Having grown up in abject poverty thanks to her father’s gambling addiction and later abandonment, Ophelia Burke dreams of riches and nothing but riches. After reading a bust of Jane Austen novels in her fourth year at Hogwarts, Ophelia set her Slytherin ambitions high: make herself into a fine young lady and marry well. She went on to do just that, enjoying a life of luxury as the wife of wealthy Malvolio Nott, however, she left it all behind in order to protect her Squib daughter from her husband’s family of pureblood fanatics.

Profile

Born: 30th August 1881 (Virgo)

Hometown: Quedgebury, Gloucestershire, U.K.

Nationality/Ethnicity: White British

Blood status: Pureblood

Gender identity: witch (she/her)

Sexuality: aromantic/ace-spec

Personality

Myers-Briggs Type: ESTJ (Executive)

Strengths: Determined, Self-Disciplined, Strong-Willed, Ambitious, Protective of her Loved Ones, Cleverer than she is given credit for

Weaknesses: Jealous, Manipulative, Scheming, Over-Zealous, Insecure, Shallow, Liar

Interests/hobbies: Needlework, Regency Era Novels, Floristry (at least, she would be if it didn’t make her hands dirty), various endeavours that may prove fruitful when it comes to her search for a wealthy husband

Appearance

Height: as an adult, 5’4”

Weight: as an adult, 56kg

Hair: naturally light mousey brown, she later lightens to blonde using Colovaria

Eyes: naturally brown, she later uses Colovaria on these as well, turning them green

Skin: prone to tanning, she makes sure to not spend too much time in the sun

Defects: none.

Style: Ophelia likes to dress like a proper lady, up to date with all the latest fashions. Her finances do not allow this, but she becomes adept at tailoring what she has to try and keep up with the girls around her.

Faceclaim: Mia Wasikowska

Witchcraft

1st Wand: Yew and Unicorn Hair

(this wand was leant to Ophelia by her mother to use in her first year)

2nd Wand: Chestnut and Dragon Heartstring

(Ophelia’s mother repossessed this wand from a house she was cleaning. The former owner had been a champion duellist who had kept all the wands he’d won as trophies)

3rd Wand: Cedar and Dragon Heartstring

(Whenever I meet one who carries a cedar wand, I find strength of character and unusual loyalty. The cedar wand finds its perfect home where there is perspicacity and perception. I have never yet met the owner of a cedar wand whom I would care to cross, especially if harm is done to those of whom they are fond. The witch or wizard who is well-matched with cedar carries the potential to be a frightening adversary, which often comes as a shock to those who have thoughtlessly challenged them.)

Animagus form: None

Patronus: Owl Butterfly

Boggart: Losing the people she cares about - manifests as her younger siblings’ lifeless bodies

Riddikulus: Ophelia has never been able to conquer a Boggart successfully.

Amortentia (what does she smell?): Ophelia doesn’t smell anything.

Amortentia (what does she smell like?): Fresh flowers, clean linen, silver.

Magical abilities: none.

At Hogwarts

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Best subject(s): Arithmancy. Ophelia would be good at Herbology if she didn’t refuse to participate in the practical aspects of the class.

Worst subject(s): Anything involving wandwork.

Third year options: Arithmancy, Divination.

N.E.W.T.s: None - leaves Hogwarts at the end of her sixth year in order to work and earn money.

Quidditch position: none.

After Hogwarts:

July 1898-June 1900: Seamstress, Gladrags Wizarding Wear, London

June 1900-August 1917: Housewife

September 1917 onwards: Independent Seamstress and Washerwoman

Relationships

Family:

Eliza Burke (mother) - Ophelia’s mother works three jobs in order to support her family

Midas Burke (father - missing, presumed dead) - Midas deserted his family having lost all their money and become seriously in debt to a number of goblins, leaving them in abject poverty

Charmian (deceased), Julius, Desdemona, Romeo, Tamora (younger siblings)

Gordius, Dahlia and Marguerite Nott (children)

Friends:

Marigold Sterling (@that-scouse-wizard), Carolyn Nyberg (@lifeofkaze), Adelia Selwyn (@thatravenpuffwitch) - Ophelia is envious and admiring of her roommates. She wishes she could be them, but will settle for being around them. Friends is a strong term for what these girls are to Ophelia, and what she is to them.

Love interests:

Bradford Pendleton (@kc-needs-coffee) - Ophelia has no interest whatsoever in love, but she is interested in making an auspicious match. She knows that the Pendleton family have money, and was determined to win the affections of Brady. This did not come to pass, though they remain on good terms.

Malvolio Nott - Ophelia met the wealthy Pureblood widower Malvolio Nott after leaving Hogwarts. The two married in 1900, shortly after her 19th birthday, although she later abandoned her marriage on discovering that her youngest daughter was a Squib.

Pets:

Ophelia has no pets. Her mother can’t afford another mouth to feed and, besides, animals are dirty, smelly, and hairy.

Rivals:

Marigold Sterling (@that-scouse-wizard), Carolyn Nyberg (@lifeofkaze), Adelia Selwyn (@thatravenpuffwitch) - Ophelia is a firm believer in keeping your potential enemies close. She desperately wants to be friends with the other Slytherin girls. That doesn’t mean she likes them all that much.

Leila Hellebore (@whatwouldvalerydo) - she’s not really a rival, but Leila does terrify Ophelia.

*Ophelia is a deeply flawed person but if you have a character who would like to be her friend, or a potential suitor (note: must be wealthy) you’d like her to make a fool of herself trying to woo, let me know*

#hogwarts legacy #hphl oc #Ophelia Burke #the hexley family #oc profile

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thisisartbylexie · 4 years

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Sherlolly Appreciation Week - 2020 Fic Rec Post

@sherlollyappreciationweek is this week and I’ve had my head not screwed on straight and missed daily posting. Which means y’all are going to deal with a single LONG post of Sherlolly Fic Recs. I’m making up for timeliness by dumping more recs than anyone asked for. Buckle up.

(tl:dr - Listen, you can find every flavor of Sherlolly fic curated like a Willy Wonka’s factory over on @miz-joelys-sherlollilists, but I have curated a gourmet banquet for you right here. Please leave feedback for the creators.)

DAY ONE - Gone But Not Forgotten (WIPs/Incomplete Fics)

I left a review and am also recommending The Ghost and Molly Hooper by doctor_WTF. This is the story of Molly who purchased 221B Baker St only to find that the last inhabitant died, but never really left. This is set as an AU with the context of TRF.

Also gonna recommend A Line to Cross by @blogyourfeelingsaway. This is an AU where Molly doesn’t actually like Sherlock at first, much to his surprise...

Delayed For A Little While by @lono285. A Princess Bride AU we don’t deserve.

DAY TWO - Angst Fest

Phoenix by @lono285. This is the author’s summary: Nothing could bring Molly Hooper back to life. He saw her final breath leave her body. But with a few short words from a nameless voice on the telephone, he realized the resumed beating of his heart had a name: hope.

Ghost of A Girl by Alethnya. Author’s summary: Death, as it turns out, wasn't quite as final as Molly had always believed. Fear not, you will smile at the end, I promise.

All You Ever Wanted At Just The Wrong Time by @soyeahso. This wasn’t what Molly expected being a relationship with Sherlock would be like.

The Coffin-Maker’s Lullaby by @hobbitsdoitbetter. This is ANGST but it’s more like catharsis post-S4.

But if you’re REALLY looking for The Pain Train, take the emotional tour via The Gods Have [No] Mercy by TuesdayTerrible. This is a soulmate AU.

Also, The Five Stages of an Illogical Death by AndInTimeThisTooShallPass. It’s exactly what you think it is.

DAY THREE - When We Were Young (S1 & S2)

A Beautiful Mind by jankmusic. I have a theme for fics, apparently, because this one is also super emotional. This is set vaguely in the S2 timeline, but it’s an amnesia fic that starts with established Sherlolly. But then...

Her Last Bow by @PetraTodd. This is just after S2. Author’s summary: Like a knight going off to war, when Sherlock goes off to fight Moriarty's network, he takes a favor from Molly Hooper. (Of course, favors are normally *given* but Sherlock isn't really one for manners.)

All The Things Said and Unsaid by @elixirbb. Molly goes with Sherlock after The Fall.

Every Time and Always by @flaignhan. Written just after S2.01 aired.

Do I even need to mention The Full House and Always Something by @emceefrodis? Because like, that should be part of the Sherlollian Bible or something.

DAY FOUR - Bust Out (Comedy Gold)

Friends Like These by @elixirbb. Sherlolly post-S2 from Lestrade’s POV.

A Little Inspiration by @lilsherlockian1975. Humor with some angst, but a fun read.

If You Like It... by ll_again. ...put a ring on it. Post-S3 where Molly and the Holmes parents form a friendship.

The New Conception by Quarto. Post-S3 ish. Author’s summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single consulting detective in possession of an undercover assignment must be in want of a wife.

DAY FIVE - EPIC (Long Fics)

A Fearful Hope Was All The World by @miabicicletta . End of the world AU that somehow hits HARD especially now. Not for the emotionally fragile, but there’s still HEA.

In matters of the heart by TheSapphireSky. Regency AU. There’s mystery and heart-wrenching emotion with our favorite idiots. It’s *chef’s kiss*.

The Signs of the Four by Emma_Lynch. Victorian AU you’re looking for.

The Necessary Mother by darthsydious. Victorian AU where Sherlock is a single father and Molly comes to help him. This isn’t on AO3, so I will tag with the warning of character death (secondary, but still gutting due to period typical mortality).

Molly Hooper and the Flagon Nocturnal by Zoa. It’s a CRIME that this Indiana Jones AU doesn’t have more comments.

In general, if you’re looking for LONG fics, check out the 2015 Sherlolly Big Bang Collection. Every fic has a minimum of 25K.

DAY SIX - Fluffy Friday

So I like my fluff with a side of angst (for ~flavor~).

Order From Chaos by MaybeItsJustMyType. Soulmate AU.

Semantics by @geekmama. Sap everywhere.

Intuit by ClassySpanks. Molly runs away to Switzerland.

Zephyr by @writingwife-83. A Victorian AU arranged marriage.

I also had to mention Wedding Day by floosilver8. This is Groundhog Day-set up, Molly POV, set at the Watson wedding. Not like 100% fluffy, but I love reading it when I need a pick me up.

DAY SEVEN - Free For All

You guys know I’m a sucker for a period AU. So I’m going to recommend one of my favorite AUs: London Bridge Is Falling Down by @lono285. This is a WWII-era AU that I love to bits and pieces because it’s ADORABLE.

Speaking of AUs, here’s a Victorian amnesia fic. Changing Faces by @likingthistoomuch

Also, there’s an S2-ish hasty marriage AU Band of Gold by @mizjoely and the 1940s AU remix With This Ring written by me. (yup, I am SHAMELESS. And quite proud of this one.)

I’m gonna add with a tear, the truth comes by broomclosetkink. Semi-angsty AU of the Watson wedding. Fix-it fic.

Looking for the Christmas Carol AU? Well, try A Knockout Christmas by Ellis_Hendricks.

Here’s Sherlock-Is-An-Actual-Moron. Unplanned pregnancy AU where Sherlock doesn’t realize it’s his. Hearts Don’t Break Around Here by darthsydious.

OOOOOOOOF. I’ve been reading your Sherlolly fics since like 2011 and I have heaps more (SO many fantastic authors I didn’t even mention here!).

Please check out the official post because the other half of this appreciation week is also leaving feedback for authors.

Give them some LOVE!

#sherlolly appreciation week #Lexie reads things #sherlolly #epic fic rec list 2020

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mimicofmodes · 5 years

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Sanditon, episode 2 part ii

A better look at Charlotte’s dress, and also Mrs. Parker’s, which I never showed at the party. Some very nice details there; however, I want to rant about hair a little bit. Over the past few years (maybe since War and Peace?), it’s become conventional to give Regency women hairstyles that are unnecessarily intricate - instead of a bun with some curls in the front, they have kind of WWI-era dressed hair, with all of these individual curls carefully pulled up and into place around the crown of the head, like we see with Mrs. Parker here. (But full points for putting Charlotte’s up for the party.)

Charlotte goes around to apologize to Lady Denham for contradicting her the next day, hair down again. But, as her wonderful puff-sleeved spencer accentuates, she has got the very high-busted and high-waisted Regency silhouette!

Meanwhile, Lady Denham is dressed ... in a full-on robe à la française from 1770!? (Reminder: that is anywhere from 40 to 50 years before this is set.) Okay. Okay. Moving on, she takes Charlotte’s apology pretty well and seems very calmed down from the day before. She even takes Charlotte’s opinion that she was mean to Georgiana really well.

Georgiana, on the other hand, is attempting to run away. The public stage, unfortunately, costs six shillings, and she has no money until she gets to the bank in London. The coachman and the crowd taunt her and she flees, the whole time looking a huge contrast from the others in their drab-colored clothes and (anachronistically) close bonnets.

Sidney, Babington, and some other guy who’s been hanging around but whose name I never catch are smoking in a tavern and talking about Babington being into Esther. Aw! He’s so cute. Nameless guy, however, refers to her as a “saucy bitch” and it would honestly be considered ungentlemanly behavior in the period, even in that setting, for Babington and Sidney not to object to that, but they don’t. Nameless guy (I think his name is Crouch or something) then brings Charlotte into it in admiration, and then Georgiana, and like ... bandying about young women’s names in a public place was really Not Done, guys. Sidney doesn’t make a peep until Crouch makes a remark about how Georgiana would be in bed. Charlotte and Esther don’t deserve this treatment either, buddy.

Meanwhile, underscoring how dickish the assessments of them by the men are, Charlotte finds Georgiana standing at the edge of a cliff, crying; when Charlotte comes to help her, Georgiana collapses in her arms. Note that they are both wearing shades of purple! This links them together while still suiting their characters (Charlotte’s is pale, reflecting her limited experience and cheerful tendencies, with a plain straw bonnet; Georgiana’s is dark, reflecting her intensity, and her bonnet is a very fancy openwork one with a large, high brim). In the next scene where they talk, they get to “Christian-naming” each other.

More Crimson Peak stuff from the Denhams. I like that his coat is lined with red or hot pink. Esther is back in black.

Tom finds Sidney in the tavern and exposits a bit about how he needs his brother to work to bring people in, which Sidney protests that he is doing. You know, just saying, it would probably be more effective to charm wealthy families to come to Sanditon than to concentrate on two single dudes, just saying. Even Tom seems not quite to believe that this is the best he can do.

Stringer again! We like Stringer. After meeting him, Charlotte’s in such high spirits that she convinces Georgiana to take of their shoes and stockings and paddle, a far cry from standing on the cliff above contemplating suicide.

Mrs. Griffiths turns up, angry. She and the Beauforts are in duller/paler colors that contrast with Georgiana again.

Charlotte goes walking on the beach by herself, picking up shells and stones, and then ...

I hate this, as you can imagine! It feels like a self-homage to Davies’s Pride and Prejudice and the famous wet shirt scene, but GRITTY and REAL because men swam naked rather than in their shirts, plus “it’s the ‘10s now so you can go farther than you could in the ‘90s”. (The wet shirt scene was actually considered a fairly risqué addition to an Austen adaptation at the time, because standards for faithfulness to the text were much higher.) He’s topping himself. It also makes me think he’s going for Sidney/Charlotte, which I don’t really like, and playing it as a parallel to Elizabeth/Darcy just because they don’t get along, and I also don’t like it when people do that.

Charlotte runs away while Sidney looks around pensively. She is really having a time of it at Sanditon, dealing with people giving defensive handjobs in the park and now this. At least she has a new friend as of this episode!

#sanditon #austen #jane austen #1810s #19th century #regency #historical fashion #fashion history

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srebrnafh · 5 years

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WIPs right now

The Burning - DONE!

What’s still being written:

Double Pride, Double Trouble - Pride and Prejudice, modern, child-centered. 3 more chapters to be written and will be done. My biggest story ever, 300k words.

A Tremor - Sherlock x Doctor Strange/MCU, John Watson becomes a warlock under Stephen Strange’s direction. He goes back home to take over the London Sanctum. Started on a whim, no idea how long it will take to bring it to conclusion. Not sure what the conclusion will be!

Ice Heart - Sherlock x Frozen. A young prince, some out of control powers, a little brother struck by magic, a rescue mission, a romance. With John as Kristoff, Greg as Sven and not much of text written yet. But I will get there.

A Little Lost - Sherlock. A soldier is found in London, despite having been reported to be MIA in Afghanistan. One consulting detective is rather delighted to get his old friend (or more?) back.1/10 written, I suppose. A bit of an outline exists, but it will take a lot of work to get this into shape. Also, flashbacks. And mystrade.

The Overlooked Case of a Blogger Who Read Too Much - Sherlock. John finds AO3, starts writing FF himself. Not much of a plot, but there will be fluff.

Future (planned, plotted, drafted, started offline):

* an unnamed collab in the world of telephone salesmen (Sherlock)

* an unnamed story in the world of amateur choirs (Sherlock; AU, Sherlock as the choirmaster, Irene as the annoying main alto, John as an unexperienced tenor...)

* second choir story (Sherlock becomes the choirmaster as a cover)

* “Mementos” - the yarders make a drug bust and find Sherlock’s flat filled with things that don’t belong to him, starting with RAMC mug and a doctor’s bag. Will contain sympathetic Sally, military being obtuse, homophobic parents and Mycroft being the British Government

* Between The Lines - P&P, Regency era. A new housekeeper is hired in Pemberley and Darcy has to somehow deal with the fact that she seems to be quite young. And attractive.

* In this Age of Technology - Les Mis, modern. Characters as rebelious students.

#srebrna writes #my wips #fanfiction #sherlock #pride and prejudice #Les Miserables

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sciencespies · 3 years

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What 'Bridgerton' Gets Wrong About Corsets

https://sciencespies.com/history/what-bridgerton-gets-wrong-about-corsets/

What 'Bridgerton' Gets Wrong About Corsets

In the opening scene of the steamy Netflix period drama “Bridgerton,” Prudence Featherington, one of the eligible daughters of the social-climbing Lady Featherington, is dressing to be presented to the queen of England. Prudence doubles over, gasping for breath, as a maid yanks the laces of her corset tighter.

“I was able to squeeze my waist into the size of an orange-and-a-half when I was Prudence’s age,” Lady Featherington says.

Many movies, historical as well as fantastical, have a similar scene. Think of Gone With the Wind’s Scarlett O’Hara death-gripping a bedpost; Elizabeth Swann in Pirates of the Caribbean laced so tightly into her corset that she can barely breathe; Titanic’s Rose in a nearly identical scene; Emma Watson, playing Belle in Disney’s live-action remake of Beauty and the Beast, declaring that her character is too independent to wear a corset.

One other element shared by some of these scenes, among many others? None of the characters suffering through the pain have control over their own lives; in each scene, an authority figure (Prudence’s and Rose’s mothers, Elizabeth’s father) tells them what they must do. It’s a pretty on-the-nose metaphor, says Alden O’Brien, the curator of costume and textiles at the Daughters of the American Revolution Museum in Washington, D.C.

“To have a scene in which they’re saying, ‘tighter, tighter,’ it’s obviously a stand-in for … women’s restricted roles in society,” O’Brien says.

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The trouble is that nearly all of these depictions are exaggerated, or just plain wrong. This is not to say “Bridgerton” showrunner Shonda Rhimes erred in her portrayal of women’s rights during the early 19th-century Regency era—they were indeed severely restricted, but their undergarments weren’t to blame.

“It’s less about the corset and more about the psychology of the scene,” says Kass McGann, a clothing historian who has consulted for museums, TV shows and theater productions around the world and who founded and owns the blog/historical costuming shop Reconstructing History, in an email.

Over four centuries of uncountable changes in fashion, women’s undergarments went through wide variations in name, style and shape. But for those whose understanding of costume dramas comes solely from shows and movies like “Bridgerton,” these different garments are all just lumped together erroneously as corsets.

If one does define a corset as “a structured undergarment for a woman’s torso,” says Hilary Davidson, a dress historian and the author of Dress in the Age of Jane Austen, the first corsets appeared in the 16th century in response to women’s fashion becoming stiffer and more “geometric.” The corset, stiffened with whalebone, reeds or even sometimes wood, did somewhat shape women’s bodies into the inverted cone shape that was in fashion, but women weren’t necessarily pulling their corsets tight enough to achieve that shape. Instead, they used pads or hoops to give themselves a wider shape below the waist (kind of like Elizabethan-era booty pads), which, in turn, made the waist look narrower.

Silk stays and busk made in the Netherlands between 1660 and 1680

Quilted silk jumps made in England around 1745

This shape more or less persisted until the Regency era of the early 1800s, when there was “all sorts of invention and change and messing about” with fashion, Davidson says. During that 20-year period, women had options: They could wear stays, boned, structured garments that most resemble today’s conception of a corset; jumps, very soft, quilted, but still supportive undergarments; or corsets, which were somewhere in between. O’Brien says the corsets of the Regency period were made of soft cotton (“imagine blue jeans, and turn them white”) with stiffer cotton cording for support, and occasionally channels in the back for boning, and a slot in the front for a metal or wooden support called a busk. (Remember, though, these supports were made to fit an individual’s body and would gently hug her curves.) Eventually, the term corset (from the French for “little body”) is the one that won out in English, and the shape gelled into the hourglass shape we think of today..

But all along, these undergarments were just “normal pieces of clothing,” Davidson says. Women would have a range, just like today’s women “have a spectrum of possibilities, from the sports bra to the Wonderbra.” Those simply hanging around the house would wear their more comfortable corsets, while others going to a ball might “wear something that gives a nicer line.” Even working women would wear some sort of laced, supportive garment like these—giving lie to the idea that putting on a corset immediately induced faintness. For Davidson, the myth that women “walked around in these uncomfortable things that they couldn’t take off, because patriarchy,” truly rankles. “And they put up with it for 400 years? Women are not that stupid,” she says.

These garments were comfortable, Davidson adds, not just by the standards of the time—women started wearing some sort of supportive bodiced garment when they were young girls, so they were accustomed to them by adulthood—but by modern standards as well. O’Brien concurs: “To have something that goes further down your bust … I’d really like to have that, because it would do a better job of distributing the support.”

By the Victorian period, after “Bridgerton,” corsets had evolved to a more hourglass shape—the shape many people imagine when they think of an uncomfortable, organ-squishing, body-deforming corset. But again, modern perceptions of the past shape how we think of these undergarments. Davidson says skirts were bigger during this time—“the wider the skirt, the smaller the waist looks.” Museums often display corsets in their collections on mannequins as if their edges meet. In reality, they would likely have been worn with their edges an inch or two apart, or even looser, if a woman chose.

McGann suggests that one of the reasons corsets are associated with pain is because actresses talk about their discomfort wearing an uncomfortable corset for a role. “In many cases, the corsets are not made for the actress but rather a corset in her general size is used for expediency,” McGann says. “This means they are wearing corsets that don’t fit them properly, and when laced tightly, that can hurt!”

So, in the Regency era and in other periods, did women tighten the laces of their corsets beyond what was comfortable—or healthy—in service of achieving a more fashionably narrow waist? Sure, some did, when they had someone to impress (and in fact, Davidson gives the Gone With the Wind corset scene high marks for accuracy, since Scarlett O’Hara is young, unmarried, and trying to make an impression). In “Bridgerton,” social striver Lady Featherington’s insistence on her daughters’ narrow waists similarly seems logical. Except…in the Regency period, where dresses fall from the bust, what would be the point of having a narrow waist? “The whole idea of tightlacing is completely pointless…irrelevant for the fashion,” Davidson says.

“There is no way that period corset is going to [narrow her waist], and it’s not trying to do that,” O’Brien adds.

Davidson has another quibble with the undergarment fashion choices of “Bridgerton” (at least the first episode, which she watched at Smithsonian magazine’s request). Corsets and stays of the Regency period were designed less to create the cleavage that modern audiences find attractive, and more to lift up and separate the breasts like “two round globes,” Davidson says. She finds the corsets in “Bridgerton” too flat in the front.

In an interview with Vogue, “Bridgerton” costume designer Ellen Mirojnick laid out her philosophy on the series’ apparel: “This show is sexy, fun and far more accessible than your average, restrained period drama, and it’s important for the openness of the necklines to reflect that. When you go into a close-up, there’s so much skin. It exudes beauty.” But, Davidson says, “while they sought sexiness and cleavage and maximum exposure, the way they’ve cut the garments actually flattens everyone’s busts. If they’d gone back to the Regency [style of corset] you would have gotten a whole lot more bosom. You would have had boobs for days.”

“Bridgerton” does, however, get a lot right about the status of women in the early-19th century. Marriage was one of the only options for women who didn’t want to reside with their relatives for the rest of their lives, so the series’ focus on making “good matches” in matrimony holds true. Once wed, a married woman legally became her husband’s property. She couldn’t sign contracts or write a will without her husband’s consent.

By the mid-19th century, women had made significant gains in being able to own property or obtain a divorce. It wouldn’t be until 1918 in England or 1920 in the United States, however, that (some) women could vote. Around the same time, corsets were falling out of fashion, and many writers of the time saw a connection between liberation from the corset and women’s liberation.

In “Bridgerton,” Regency-era young women don corsets ahead of their presentation to Queen Charlotte.

(Liam Daniel / Netflix)

O’Brien says that looking back now, that conclusion doesn’t hold up. “You have all these writers saying, ‘Oh, we’re so much more liberated than those dreadful, hypocritical, repressed Victorians, and we’ve thrown away the corset.’ Well, I’m sorry, but if you look at shapewear in the 1920s, they’re doing the exact same thing, which is using undergarments to create the current fashionable shape,” which in the Roaring Twenties meant using “elasticized” girdles and bust-binders to “completely clamp down on a woman’s natural shape.

“Society always has a body ideal that will be impossible for many women to reach, and every woman will choose how far to go in the pursuit of that ideal, and there will always be a few who take it to a life-threatening extreme,” O’Brien adds.

O’Brien and Davidson hope people stop thinking of corsets as oppressive tools of the patriarchy, or as painful reminders of women’s obsession with fashion. That attitude “takes away female agency,” O’Brien says. “We’re allowing fashion’s whims to act upon us, rather than choosing to do something.”

Wearing a corset was “as oppressive as wearing a bra, and who forces people into a bra in the morning?” (Some women in 2021, after months of Zoom meetings and teleworking, may be asking themselves that exact question right now.) “We all make individual choices,” Davidson says, “about how much we modify ourselves and our body to fit within the social groups in which we live.”

It’s easier to think of corsets as “strange and unusual and in the past,” Davidson says. To think of a corset as an oppressive tool of the past patriarchy implies that we modern women are more enlightened. But, Davidson adds, “We don’t wear corsets because we’ve internalized them. You can now wear whatever you like, but why does all the Internet advertising say ‘8 weird tricks to a slim waist’? We do Pilates. Wearing a corset is much less sweat and effort than going to Pilates.”

#History

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