taffetae

3

An embroidered lawn robe à l'Anglaise, circa 1770-80, 

Delicately embroidered in chain stitch with stripes and sprigs of pinks, convolvulus, dog roses, honeysuckle, tied with pink bows, closed-front bodice panels with drawstring to neck, the sleeves with shaped elbows adorned with ruffles; together with a pink taffeta petticoat, 18th century 

4

A good ribbon-worked black taffeta robe de style, probably Lanvin, circa 1926, 

Black silk taffeta adorned with embroidered ribbons in shades of green and pink, with gold vermicular embroidery outlined in black cord, the skirt gently gathered over the hips, nude chiffon modesty panel to the front, large tulle bow to one hip, scalloped hem over tulle edging

washington capitals as prom dates

inspired by this video and composed with contributions from @hellokyochan and @notmissmarple

  • Braden Holtby is the world’s best prom date. You’re in your taffeta gown and you answer the door and there he is in a pinstripe suit and shades and a cowboy hat, and you know you’re going to have the best fucking time at prom
  • Nate Schmidt shows up in a bright pink suit and pink tie
  • Justin Williams is wearing the nicest suit he owns, which isn’ much, and he’s driving his mom’s beat up old car
  • Ovi, Kuzy and Orly all show up in a limo, halfway to wasted, hanging out the top
  • Tom Wilson shows up looking spiffy with a rose pinned to his lapel and takes the time to charm your parents, while Andre Burakovsky and his girlfriend shout at him from the car to hurry it up
  • Your mom pulls you aside to tell you she thinks this TJ Oshie seems like a nice boy, but he totally texted you earlier to give you the lowdown on all the booze he has stashed in the limo
  • Nicky is really awkward and fumbles at his cuffs a lot and looks down at the floor when he talks to you, but when you finally dance with him he’s the best dancer you’ve ever seen

  • Bonus: Ovi is the one who spiked the punch, but Nicky is the one who stood in front of the table so no one would see
  • Nicky totally bitched at Ovi about it, too
    • “Alex, no.” “ALEX, YES.”
    • “well FINE you SHOULDN’T but if you’re GOING TO I’m not going tto let you get in trouble”
    • “You’re gonna get caught.” // “If you stand here and don’t move, I don’t get caught” // “I hate you sometimes.” // “No, you don’t.”
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PARIS LABEL HIGH-NECK LACE GOWN, 1906

1-piece cream silk chiffon with Brussels lace overlay having boned bodice and collar, full chiffon sleeve with lace cap, tulle cuff and satin bows, pleated satin cummerbund with jeweled buckle, full trained skirt. Shown without silk taffeta underskirt. Petersham label: Henriette Favre Rue de la Paix.5

3

So I’m the oldest and the wittiest and the gossip in New York City is insidious

I am so happy to share my Angelica Schuyler cosplay with you all!! It’s historically accurate and as close to stage accurate as I could get. I used ten yards of a beautiful two-toned faux taffeta for the fashion fabric, but there’s also about seven undergarments (and pockets!) underneath to give it structure. The bodice is steel boned, with lace and chiffon trim around the whole thing.

This gown took 225 hours to complete; it’s by far the best thing I’ve ever made and I’m so, so proud of it.  

My editor's book

Has appeared on the Tapas app.

I’d like to say something about it, because she has been very helpful to me in a way it is difficult to explain and I want to represent her as she has done me.

The book is a lovely teenage romance and a story of coming out, but not in the way you would expect. “Cinderella Boy” is more than the fairytale. It is a strategic map for withstanding the kind of hatred and institutionalized homophobia that exists in this country. The running theme within it is that of marksmanship and Sun Tsu’s Art of War. It is an emotional love story, with a spine, to me reading like a John Hughes movie put on by a cast of fighting Monks, who sometimes prefer wearing taffeta.

If you identify as non-binary, gender fluid, transgendered, agendered, or androgynous, I recommend it to you. If you were bullied as a child for your sexuality or gender identity, I recommend it. If you need something to give you a hopeful slap on the back, I recommend it.

Please do go to the Tapas app and see about reading Cinderella Boy by Kristina Meister

Tread Softly

destiel, PG-13, 2.1k

Written for Round One of The Great Fic Writer Scavenger Hunt by @mittensmorgul
Prompt: There Is Only One Bed (trope) + Castiel (for whatever reason) wears different clothes

This started out cracky & light but then ended up so fluffy and kind of as a love letter to Misha’s thighs #sorrynotsorry

AO3 LINK


“I just don’t see why this is necessary,” Castiel said, fussing with the lace-trimmed skirt of the champagne white taffeta dress he was currently wearing. “Or why it couldn’t be you or Sam.”

“I told you, Cas.” Giggle. “The bridal store didn’t carry anything off the rack in mine or Sam’s size.” Snort. “And you know we’ve tried to draw the ghost out in other ways but they didn’t take.” Snicker. “Sorry buddy.” Chortle. “I promise I’ll be the bait next time.”

“I would appreciate it if you tried a little bit harder to contain your laughter.” The petulant tone in Castiel’s voice was the last straw, and Dean burst out in laughter.

“Come on Dean, not cool,” Sam said, throwing a sympathetic look at Castiel. The effect was somewhat marred by the fact his lips were twitching as he tried to contain his mirth.

“Just look at him,” Dean managed to say in between gasps and wheezes. “Oh fuck my stomach hurts.” He tried to catch his breath.

“Serves you right,” Castiel grumbled, thoroughly unamused. “Let’s just get this over with. Sam, my veil, please.” He held out his hand for the white accessory.

Sam gave it to him, and then went over to his laptop to check if the hidden cameras they’d placed inside the chapel were running. They both ignored a still recovering Dean, who was wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes.

“Okay, all the cameras look fine, and it’s-“ he checked his watch. “Ten to nine. Showtime, Cas. Good luck.”

“Yeah Cas,” Dean said, clapping the ex-angel on the back, “I’m sure it’ll go fine. You’re the prettiest bride I’ve ever seen – dude won’t know what hit him.”

Oh if looks could kill, and if Castiel still had his grace, Dean would be a small pile of dust on the floor. Or possibly sprayed into little pieces all across the walls and ceiling.

“I will remember this, Dean. And I have a very long memory.” With that, Castiel stalked off without another word.


Ganking the ghost turned out to be a piece of cake. It had fallen for Castiel’s disguise easily and had revealed the location of the special object that kept it tethered to the human world (a brooch of a blue delphinium flower, obviously meant to be the ghost’s “something blue”). The brooch was swiftly torched by Sam, vanquishing the ghost before it could really cause much damage to any of them.

Afterwards, the three returned to the motel they were staying in (the only one in the small town), ready to call it a night. Castiel’s dress was torn at the right sleeve and caked with dirt at the hem, but otherwise had it held up remarkably well. Good quality fabric, Dean found himself thinking.

Their rooms (they had enough money now to get three singles) were at the end of the hallway past the check-in desk. When they entered, the girl at the registration desk - ‘Jeanine’, her nametag read - actually squealed, clapping her hands and looking very excited.

“There you are! You look beautiful! How was the wedding?”

The three were stunned in the face of so much enthusiasm.

“Um…” Dean stammered. “Good, it was…good.” He realized (too late) that he’d been holding Castiel’s arm, and abruptly let go.

“Brilliant! We haven’t had a wedding in town for ages! So good you were able to find a dress in Maggie’s store,” Jeanine continued, oblivious to their bewilderment.

“Yeah, um, great. Thanks. Look, we’re very tired, so we’re just gonna…” Dean gestured towards their rooms, and the three started moving again. But Jeanine jumped in front of them, holding out a hand to stop them.

“Wait! We’ve got a surprise for you!”

Dean did not like the sound of that. In their line of work, surprises usually had teeth or claws and tended to be quite painful. It had given him a healthy dislike of them.

“Our owners just love a good romance, and y’all looked so cute picking out a dress they wanted to do something special for you,” Jeanine continued, her eyes sparkling. “And of course we wanna show the world that we are 100% gay friendly and we support all forms of love, so if y’all could leave a good Yelp review, that’d be awesome!”

Dean gave Sam a look as if to say, ‘is this going where I think it’s going?’

“So we’ve moved the two of you-“ she gestured towards Dean and Castiel, ”to the bridal suite - free of charge of course! Surprise!”

If Sam didn’t value his life as much as he did, he would have commented on the way the blushes on Dean and Castiel’s face matched perfectly. As it was, he slapped his hand across his mouth to stop the giggles from escaping.

“Wow…you really didn’t have to do that,” Dean managed to choke out. His face was rapidly reaching dangerous levels of purple.

“It’s just that we’ve, uh, decided to wait, to, uh, you know.” Dean’s hands flailed uselessly. He couldn’t even finish that sentence - it would end him.

“Oh!” Jeanine’s face fell and she looked contrite. “I’m so sorry, we had no idea!  It’s just that we already rented out the two other rooms to new guests, and now we’re completely full…” Her eyes were downcast and she looked almost close to tears.

Dean just wanted this whole moment to be over so he could start erasing it from his memory. Which was the only reason (thank-you-very-much) he spoke up and said, “Look, it’s fine, we’ll somehow manage to keep our hands off each other.” He even managed a smile at Jeanine and someone should give him a medal for that. “Where is it?”

“Wonderful!” As if it had never left, the smile was back as Jeanine produced a key from her pocket. “It’s just down that hall, the last door on your left.” She pointed towards the hall on the right of the hall Sam would be sleeping in.

“C’mon Cas let’s go,” Dean grumbled. He grabbed the key from Jeanine’s hand and started walking in the direction she’d pointed at.

“Dean.” Castiel spoke up for the first time this entire disaster of a conversation, which made Dean realize he hadn’t even seen the his reaction to all this yet. When he looked at Cas (expecting to see a really pissed off, glowering ex-angel) he only saw faint embarrassment and…shyness?

“What about our bags?” And that was it. No protestation, no comment on the current situation, nothing. Just Castiel being his practical self.

“Oh, we already put them in the room; hope you don’t mind.” Jeanine beamed at them, and behind her, Sam gave them both a thumbs up. Dean nodded stiffly, grabbed Castiel’s elbow and started dragging him towards the room.  The sooner he could get away from Sam’s unbearably smug face and Jeanine’s chipper attitude, the better. He’d get his revenge on Sam later.

Walking into the room, the first thing he noticed was that it…wasn’t that bad, actually. No heart-shaped bed, no pink wallpaper or pillows or anything. The color scheme was centered on soft blue tones mixed with a splash of aquamarine in the accessories. It was tastefully decorated, and the bed looked like it might have a memory foam mattress, a theory which Dan could not wait to test out.

He let out a sigh of relief, feeling calmer already. “At least it doesn’t look like a bridal magazine threw up on it,” he said, earning a grimace from Castiel for his colorful choice of words.

Dean gestured towards the bathroom. “Go ahead and shower first. Out of all of us, the ghost got you the worst.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re okay, right? Nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises?”

“Yes, Dean, I’m fine.” Castiel’s tone was fond, and he looked slightly exasperated yet pleased by Dean’s concern. He didn’t move towards the bathroom, though. Just turned around and put his back to Dean.

“You’ll need to help me with this dress,” he said. “It was not made to be taken off by oneself.”

Dean suspected Castiel didn’t realize quite how true that was, and he suddenly felt nervous. But he could hardly refuse to help him, so he walked up to Castiel and reached for the row of buttons that started at Castiel’s upper back.

The buttons were small and there were many of them. The taffeta was slightly slippery, and Dean was not used to such a delicate task, so it took him longer than it probably should have. Inch by inch, Castiel’s tanned skin was exposed, revealing just how well he kept his body in shape. Dean rarely had the chance to see Castiel like this, and he couldn’t help but let his hands linger here and there, brushing over the lace trimmings and ghosting over the skin beneath.

Dean was so focused on his task, he’d failed to notice the silence between them. As he took care of the last button and slowly released the material, he became aware of the change in the atmosphere. It was heavier than before. Expectant.

“There, all done.” The words came out soft and husky. Dean took a step back and could not stop himself from admiring the view. He was only human, after all, and he’d dare anyone to look away from Castiel grabbing the fabric with both hands and pushing it down over his hips,  shaking them a little to help the dress slide down easier.

A soft moan escaped Dean’s lips as those thick, muscled thighs were revealed. He longed to run his hands over them, to caress, squeeze, worship.

A low chuckle made him snap his eyes back up to meet with Castiel’s, who was casting a knowing look over his shoulder at him. No use in trying to hide what he’d been looking at, then.

“See anything you like?”

Dean could never resist a challenge like that. Whatever could be said about him, he always gave as good as he got.

“Maybe.”

He wasn’t into the dress though, not really; it wasn’t even the right size. But the quiet confidence with which Castiel wore the garment, the way the fabric had felt under Dean’s touch and the way Castiel’s hands had smoothed over it…Dean was a tactile man, always had been, and it was impossible for him to stay unaffected in the face of such sensuality.

“Then touch me,” Castiel said simply, turning around to face him and opening his arms in an invitation Dean was powerless to resist. Two paces forward brought him into Castiel’s personal space, stepping on the dress still pooled at Castiel’s feet.

He raised his hand but stopped just short of touching Castiel, suddenly unsure again. They stood there, frozen, for five, six, seven heartbeats.

As always, Castiel saved him from his indecision. He pulled Dean against him, snaked an arm around his waist, and met his lips in a slow, deep kiss. Dan could only whimper in response to the way Castiel so effortlessly took control of the kiss. Castiel’s arm around him tightened at the sound, and his hand came up to cup Dean’s cheek.

This was so very different from the few stolen kisses they’d shared in the heat of the moment after a hunt in the last few weeks. They hadn’t talked about it at all, and of course Sam had no idea yet. Honestly, Dean sometimes felt that they had no idea what they were doing.

But in this moment, Dean felt them teetering on the edge of something new, something more. And though he was ashamed to admit it – never would out loud - it scared him.

“Cas…We can’t….” he moaned brokenly against Castiel’s lips. “I’m not…”

Castiel broke away and shushed him with a finger, gently rubbing it over his reddened lips.

“I know. Not here, not now. It isn’t the time.” He gave Dean one more lingering kiss. “Will you just take me to bed?” Dean shuddered at the tenderness in his voice and the naked longing for simple affection in his eyes.

“We still need that shower, Cas,” he murmured, burying his head in Castiel’s neck.

“Quickly, then.” Castiel laughed softly, squeezing Dean one last time before letting him go.


Later, when they lay in bed together with Dean’s back to Castiel’s chest, Dean was softly stroking the arm that Castiel had slung across his waist, quietly enjoying the closeness and the feeling of security between them.

“You lied to Jeanine, you know,” Cas mumbled.

“Huh?” Dean murmured sleepily.

“We didn’t manage to keep our hands off each other.” Dean could hear the satisfaction in Castiel’s voice. Warmth suffused his entire body, and he smiled softly, although Castiel could not see his expression.

“Idiot.”

“Love you too, Dean.”

Dean couldn’t say it back, not yet, but it didn’t make him anxious. They had time - Castiel understood him, and he was going nowhere.

It was the best night’s sleep Dean had ever had.

[tag list under the cut]

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