Princess Diana’s Catherine Walker slubbed turquoise silk ensemble worn for a Royal tour of New Zealand, April 1983,
Dress with vertical pleats to front and back bodice, elbow length sleeves, gently gathered skirt; with matching long sleeved jacket
Princess Diana wore this ensemble on the 36th day of the Royal Tour of Australia and New Zealand, April 24, 1983. She visited the Te Poho-o-Rawiri Marae Meeting House, Gisborne, North Island, where she was given a traditional Hongi welcome by the local Maori dignitaries. Princess Diana was photographed wearing this ensemble rubbing noses (the traditional Maori greeting).
Waning: Smut ahead. Inspired by my recent Azriel headcanon, because writing about how Azriel sleeps nude is a beautiful, beautiful thing. Ask, and you shall receive…
Since getting my own house in Velaris nearly five hundred
years ago, I’ve liked the feeling of my bare skin against the sheets. Elain was
appalled when we first began dating, from the first time she slept with me in
my bed, at my old, ratty, cotton sheets that had been on my bed for decades.
“What?” I had said, genuinely curious what the big deal was.
“I wash them.”
“You’ve washed them so much, they’re falling apart,” she had
laughed, and I couldn’t help but join her. “I’m buying you new sheets.”
“Will it make you happy?” I had asked, then followed it up
with, “please don’t get floral ones.”
She didn’t get floral ones. She got royal blue, silk ones
At first, I laughed. Me?
Sleeping on silk sheets? But, after one night, I never complained again.
Now, I could hear her walking up the stairs as my eyelids fluttered open. The sunlight was pouring through my floor length window, the
curtain doing a terrible job keeping the light at bay.
Jian Sword from China dated about 17th Century on display at the Royal Armouries in Leeds
All the hilt and scabbard fittings are fretted with dragons in gilt brass. The dragon features heavily in Chinese symbolism and mythology and can be seen as features on imperial palaces and gardens. The dragon was also the centre piece of the Qing Dynasty flag.
The silk binding of the grip is found on many other early Qing Dynasty swords. Silk was a representation of power, wealth and status in the 17th Century. The dragon symbolism and silk here would suggest the sword belonged to a rich and influential family.
Lacey paced up and down by the Cadillac, the bright sunshine a strange counterpoint to her mood. A red-haired man walking a Dalmatian smiled and nodded to her as he passed, and she glared at him, which made his throat bob. Bloody small towns and their nosy inhabitants! It occurred to her that Gold was bound to be the chief source of gossip for them all when they found out he’d gotten a college girl pregnant. Perhaps him moving to Boston made sense after all. She had yet to tell her father the news, and she was dreading it. To have become everything he’d said she would: a college dropout and single mother, not married, no relationship with the father, no money and no prospects. It was everything she had studied hard to avoid, and the thought made her desperately sad.
The sound of the door behind her made her spin around, and Gold surveyed her through dark glasses as he adjusted the cuffs of his shirt. The tie was back on, the collar fastened, and she got the impression that the suit was like armour for him, a barrier between him and anything that might get under his skin. A gold tie pin secured the length of royal blue silk, gleaming in the sunlight. It made her long for his more relaxed look, tie off and shirt unbuttoned, a glimpse of his tanned chest and his forearms. She licked her lips, shoving the inappropriate thoughts aside. It was thinking like that that had gotten her into this mess in the first place.
This is for Zutara Smut Week, “Virginity.” Not so much because it kinda mentions it in the story, but more so because I just lost mine, in the literary sense. This is probably the most explicit thing I’ve ever written. It’s a little suggestive after the cutline, but the real deal is toward the end. If it’s no good, then just remember, it’s my first time! And that’s reality, folks!
There were no boys close to her age in her tribe growing up
except for her brother, so Katara didn’t think about dating or marriage that
much. It was hard to imagine the future with the war going on, but Katara knew
that if she were to find a husband someday, he’d have to come from somewhere
else. The Northern Water Tribe, most likely, since she’d probably have to go
there anyway to learn waterbending. Gran Gran hinted that their sister tribe
may not see fit to train her, though, while stating outright that they would most
certainly find her a husband.
That wasn’t a bad thing… or
Gran Gran seemed to think so. With limited knowledge and
zero experience, Katara had no idea what to think. Sokka was annoying and
stinky and sexist. She could never marry anyone like that. Shouldn’t she find
another waterbender—to increase the likelihood of passing on the genes to their
children? But Katara didn’t even know all the specifics on how babies were
made, not really.
It was her friend, Nutha, who let her in on some
fascinating, yet somewhat disturbing details. Katara wouldn’t realize until
much later just exactly how Nutha knew so much.
Tonic awoke in her chambers, the feeling of her black silk sheets felt comforting against her rigid, scared skin. rubbing the sleep from her eyes she noticed the sun was just rising, well..the giant black ball of fire isn’t really a sun, more so a fake to mimic life above the center of the earth. calling her servants she rose from the bed, her naked body seemed to glow under the light of the black fire. today was the royal announcement, that she Queen Tonic Obsidian had taken the hand of her..husband. god, that word felt disgusting, for this monster taking the seat next to her was nothing more than a figure head to her. she allowed her servants to dress her in spiders sink, the black material hugged her every curve, creating a stark yet beautiful contrast against her porcelain skin and lilac hair.
she walked slowly to Antis chamber, not bothering to knock she barged in and huffed, the mutt was still asleep “wake up, daling~ today’s the day you lose all ounces of freedom in this hell home” though the softness of her voice in combination with the pet name her words were venomous. walking towards his bed she ripped the sheets from him, rolling her eyes in disgust “i said wake up your highness-”
Tonic didn’t really even know anti, but with how guarded she truly was, she didnt want to know him.she preferred her silence and lonesome.