gray linen

I should probably warn you that: 1. The idea is very old; 2. I mostly write stuff so I can push character limits, and here I clearly pushed too hard. Basically, expect lots of OOC.


Title: Think Before You Speak

Fandom: MommaCQ (belongs to @alainaprana)

Wordcount: 983

Warnings: OOC; mentions of injury and hospitalization; blatant angst.

Summary: Error hates the hospital.

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Rebelcaptain arranged royal marriage AU

Expanded version of this story available here: (x)


He smiles too easily–automatic and on cue; she smiles too little, expression flat or angry when it is not otherwise shuttered. And today is no different. It just happens to be their wedding day.

“Scowl if you want under your veil, dear,” her mother pleads. “But smile when the cameras are on. Do it for us. For the country.”

At the entrance to the church she takes his arm; at the altar they take each other’s hands. Their first kiss come in front of a thousand screaming subjects to a constitutional monarchy that has no power, and at night, they retreat to their separate bedrooms in a house they are supposed to share for the rest of their lives.

Jyn Erso thinks of all the little girls all over the world who dream of being a princess. She wishes she could tell them the truth about it–of the way it stifles her like a bird in a cage–about how, even when the prince is a handsome as Cassian Andor is, it isn’t a fairy tale with a happy ending, not when you are forced to get married and you don’t even know each other.

+

He’s aristocracy and not royalty, and to some people it makes a difference, but he’s her husband now, and Jyn chafes at the little dropped comments because an insult to him is an insult to her. Anyway, where were they going to find her a marriageable prince in this day and age who also had important ties between her country and his?

But the insults roll off him like water from a duck’s back, and she’ll admit–there’s some grudging respect.

And he’s respectful of her and her space and her desires. He keeps to his room; she to hers. At some point she knows there will be talk of heirs, but the future of the country hardly rests on that these days, and Jyn takes a deep breath–she does understand her duty. She’s simply in no rush to get knocked up and swollen-footed quite yet.

Cassian keeps busy and does well to showcase his dedication to his new nation. The pet projects start small and uncontroversial: feeding hungry children; emphasis on locally farmed foods. And a their first year goes by, he moves outside the carefully constructed bubble of proper royal PR: he spearheads the creation of an innocence project to free those wrongly convicted of crimes; he throws his support behind relief efforts for refugees entering the country. She watches work and move, and she suddenly feels like the man who was the stranger across from her at the dinner table is something worth knowing–someone she was lucky to know.

+

Her father’s old friend from uni is a pill and a creepy old man, and though he insists that she still call him “Uncle Orson,” his designs toward her have always been less than familial. The first time he visits since her marriage, he lobs barbs and insults in Cassian’s direction. Cassian takes it as he does everything else–with that easy smile, automatic and on cue, but she sees the fire in his eyes and the anger that simmers there. It makes her feel strange, makes heat pool in her belly, makes her stare at him a beat too long so that he catches her in the act.

As the evening party finally nears its agonizing end, she finds Cassian in the libray with an arm pressed against Uncle Orson’s neck. His body is all coiled tension, the muscles strained and screaming threat. The sound of her footsteps draws his attention and his arm drops. Jyn stares into the darkness and watches the their silhouettes move like shadow puppets in the final act.

Half the words are whispers unheard, but she hears snippets–say what you will of me; say her name again and I will kill you–and Orson is gone and out the door without a second glance.

“What happened?” she asks, but his eyes burn into her, and she has to look away.

“Don’t ask,” he says.

+

But of course she asks. She’s Jyn Erso. She’s his wife.

The servants are all asleep or at home, and when the lights are all out she pads from her room to his.

“What happened?” she asks, and his lights are on and he’s barefoot and awake. Cassian has on a soft gray t-shirt and linen pajama pants. It’s the most undressed she’s ever seen him, she realizes.

He shakes his head and she doesn’t accept it as an answer.

“Is it what I think?” she asks, coming to sit down beside him on the bed.

“Am I allowed to know what you think? Am I supposed to know?” His voice is gentle, but the inquiry still stings. When did she start to care? She wasn’t supposed to. That hadn’t been the plan.

“I think you do.”

Cassian runs his hand through his hair. It’s still stiff with product, but Jyn likes how it looks on him. “I don’t care what people say about me. I”m used to it. But when you start mouthing off and insulting the people I care about–it’s where I draw the line.”

Her heart thuds loudly in her chest, and he turns and looks at her like he can hear it. “You care about me?” she says.

His chin drops to his chest and he sighs. “Of course I do, Jyn. You’re my wife.”

“Just because I’m your wife?” she asks, and her hands have a mind of their own, and they inch toward his and find them clenching at the sheets. His eyes are so brown, she thinks, so sincere. How have I never noticed before?

He shakes his head, and that’s all that she needs to rise to her feet so that she can turn and straddle his lap. Her lips part, and she can’t stop staring at his mouth, but she’s waiting–for his response, for him to push her off and send her out, but his free hand finds her instead, cups her cheek, fingers sliding down the column of her neck and tracing the vulnerable hollow where her breaths fly out fast and shallow.

“Kiss me, Cassian,” she says, and it’s the truth she’s been hiding from herself, the desire she’s bottled up out of sheer stubbornness and fear. But he’s a good man, and he doesn’t leave her waiting.

“I’ve dreamt of this,” he tells her when he has to break the kiss for air. She squirms in his arms, desiring nothing from him but more, more, more.

“I have too,” she pants, and he spill her onto the bed, boneless and wanting, and they share with each other the details of their dreams.

crazy-fruit  asked:

So how do Jyn and Cassian finally admit their feelings out loud in the Marriage AU? (rn I head canon someone saying I'm glad I/you chose you/me)

Oh, well this scene I’ve actually already written out and it’s in the original piece right after Cassian confronts Krennic about his comments about Jyn (which she witnesses), and Jyn goes to Cassian to find out what happened:

The servants are all asleep or at home, and when the lights are all out she pads from her room to his.

“What happened?” she asks, and his lights are on and he’s barefoot and awake. Cassian has on a soft gray t-shirt and linen pajama pants. It’s the most undressed she’s ever seen him, she realizes.

He shakes his head, but she doesn’t accept it as an answer.

“Is it what I think?” she asks, coming to sit down beside him on the bed. The mattress gives slightly under her weight. She’s short enough that her legs don’t touch the floor. Her thigh touches his, and she feels strange and daring and nervous.

“Am I allowed to know what you think? Am I supposed to know?” His voice is gentle, but the inquiry still stings. When did she start to care?she wonders. She wasn’t supposed to. That hadn’t been the plan.

“I think you do,” she says.

Cassian runs his hand through his hair. It’s still stiff with product, but Jyn likes how it looks on him. “I don’t care what people say about me,” he says. “I’m used to it. But when they start mouthing off and insulting the people I care about–it’s where I draw the line.”

Her heart thuds loudly in her chest, and he turns and looks at her like he can hear it. “You care about me?” she says, and her own voice sounds far away, even to her.

His chin drops to his chest and he sighs. “Of course I do, Jyn. You’re my wife.”

“Just because I’m your wife?” she asks, and then her hands have a mind of their own. They inch toward his and find them clenching at the sheets. His eyes are so brown, she thinks, so sincere. How have I never noticed before? One hand comes to rest on top of his, and she feels the knuckles and bones and sinew that make him up. He’s warm and alive and has been living across the hall from her all this time.

He shakes his head, and she realizes he’s the best and kindness man she knows after her father. She’s lucked into him without doing a single thing to deserve him, and she realizes that if she wastes another minute, she’ll be a fool.

Cassian looks at her, and that’s all that she needs to rise to her feet so that she can turn and straddle his lap. His lips part, wordless, and she can’t stop staring at his mouth. She’s waiting–for his response, for him to push her off and send her out–but his free hand finds her instead, cups her cheek, fingers sliding down the column of her throat and tracing the vulnerable hollow where her breaths rumble past, fast and shallow.

“Kiss me, Cassian?” she says, and she’s never meant anything more in her whole life. The desire she’s bottled up out of sheer stubbornness and fear has been ready to explode for longer than she cares to admit, and she needs to let it out, but he has to agree to let her in first.

But Cassian Andor is a good man, and he doesn’t leave her waiting.

His arms coil around her, and he trembles with the same need she feels. She feels his beard scrape against her face, and she pulls him closer until she’s breathless. Daring and reckless, Jyn lets one hand roam free, inching it along his thigh and taking in how his voice hitches and his muscles clench when she draws closer and closer. One more sweep makes him jerk against her, and he huffs a laugh that only makes her want to do it again.

“I’ve dreamt of this,” he tells her, voice hoarse when he has to break the kiss for air. She squirms in his arms, desiring nothing from him but more, more, more.

“I have too,” she pants as he kisses her neck and she says his name over and over. His mouth is soft as he says hers, and he spills her onto the bed, boneless and wanting, and they take their time, sharing with each other the contents of their dreams. 

5

Lightweight luxury is the theme of the day with a good showing of pattern and texture mixing.

- Brunello Cucinelli 50% wool 20% silk 30% linen blend gray suit with subtle blue undertones.

- Cotton blue\green plaid shirt by Isaia with cut-away collar.

- Paisley print\woven tie, this is one of the most expensive way to make neckwear, notice the iridescent dot pattern on top of the paisley.

- Steel and pear wood fountain pen by Germany’s iconic Faber Castell.

- Pebble grain chestnut brown four eyelet plain-toe shoes by Ferragamo.

Miss Fisher’s Fabulous Frocks Outfit Recap - Season 1, Episode 2 - “Murder on the Ballarat Train”

Phryne is a little more restrained in this episode, with only eight total costume changes, as opposed to the 13 different ensembles in episode one (Season 1, Episode 1 Outfit Recap here).

Outfit #1 - Gray jacket with floral skirt and shirt and red camisole

Outfit #2 - Navy floral shirt with white pants and linen jacket and hat

Outfit #3 - Gold velvet shirt with white pants and feather boa

Outfit #4 - Brown and pink kimono

Outfit #5 - Cream assuit, white shirt and pants, green sea anemone brooch

Outfit #6 - Purple wrap dress with silver damask

Outfit #7 - Gray asymmetrical flowing shirt, linen jacket and hat

Outfit #8 - Black bolero with gold designs over green silk undershirt and black pants

2

K-Pop does the 18th century. So I was watching the K-Pop video for BigBang’s “Fantastic Baby” (don’t judge me!) and saw these two outfits and immediately knew I had to blog them. Totally not 18th century of course, but I think they’re a fantastic look at a modern interpretation of the 18th century style.

The top looks very much like an 18th century banyan circa 1770s. Take a look at this red banyan for comparison.

The bottom is a 21st century interpretation of a late 18thc (circa 1790s, very early 1800s) French suit. Take a look at this green suit with ivory waistcoat and you can see how the cut is very similar to that of the K-Pop version above.


But y'all never thought I’d blog K-Pop here did you?

anonymous asked:

how can I get a style similar to the Olsens?

super easy! their shapes/colors/textures are pretty consistent. black/off white/creams/grays, lot’s of linens, wool, knits, denim. always layers, over the top oversized silhouettes. some easy examples: black sweater dress / big big scarves / white & black & denim/chambray short sleeve button up shirts / black loafers / pointed toe kitten heels / backless mule sandals / bf blazer / black trousers / emerald colored jewelry ….. when i see them more relaxed it’s like oversized t-shirts or button ups, a bf jean, and thong birkenstocks

they do a lot of mixing w textures & volume in one outfit so think … faux leather pants with a denim button up top & a feathered vest & fedora. honestly if you keep in the color palette and stick w oversized looks you have it.