the venetian mirror

The Mirror Room. Château de Maisons-Laffitte. Photo by Amber Maitrejean

This is a very small and intimate room, but stunning! This is what the chateau says about this room:

This room was used for conversations, for small meetings between scholars, and for private, poetic and musical entertainment. People sat on folding chairs with black cushions called carreaux, decorated with gold and silver trim. The popularity of these small spaces in France is age-old, but goes back to the tastes at the time of the précieuses, educated and intellectual ladies who frequented the salon of Catherine de Vivonne, marquise de Rambouillet. From the parquet floor in rosewood and Indian wood marquetry encrusted with lines of tin, to the painted dome ceiling, all of the materials used for this room are luxurious. After dark, the Venetian mirrors reflected light from the eight candelabra in the crystal chandelier hanging from the cupola.

Prefer it burning

Request: How about Mycroft Holmes X reader where she’s new super villan that got captured by government. He tries to get some information from her but she’s really flirty and that makes him feel… inappropriate. Some dirty talk and flirting with embarrassed Mycroft? Thank you and Amen for this blog! It’s really unpredicted

A/N: Thank you, and I hope you like it :3

Originally posted by boysofbakerst

(y/n) (y/l/n) was bored. That one was pretty obvious for not only Mycroft Holmes, but also every other person working in a highly secured prison she was kept in. Man watched from behind the Venetian mirror as a said woman was swinging on the back legs of her chair, in the interrogation room, her head tilted back, so she was looking at the mirror, lazy smile on her thin lips.

“I’m bored!” She said once again, clear and loud, her accent thick. “I’m really bored, Mr. Holmes!” Mycroft felt his brow twitching at the way she said his name, almost singing it, while her smile grew. If he didn’t know any better, he would think that she was looking right at him through the glass. Suddenly she pulled her head up and straightened, chair’s front legs landing on a floor with loud crank, her back straight, hands lying flat on a tabletop.
“Come and play with me.” Her voice was cold and emotionless when she said it. He looked at her for a short while before he straightened his tie and turned to doors, which led straight to the room, his man not moving from their places near the mirror. When he entered the room, her cold (e/c) eyes landed on his form, sending slight chill down his spine. He had contact with many of villains in his life, but not even Moriarty, nor his sister, made him this wary. She smiled lazily at him, watching his every move as he marched through the room and sat on a chair in front of her, unbuttoning his suit jacket.
“Fancy meeting you here, Mr. Holmes. You come here often?” She asked leaning forward and looking in his eyes, her breasts leaning against her crossed forearms, pushing upwards. If it weren’t for a prison uniform with no neckline, the sight would be very much pleasing for a man sight, yet even without it, Mycroft found his eyes travelling for a said part of her body before he quickly looked back up to (y/n)’s face, and questioning gaze of hers. “I heard about you a lot. Big, bad Holmes.” She pouted before she straightened back up and sat more comfortably. “Yet no one ever mentioned how attractive you are. If I knew it before, I would get myself captured sooner.” Mycroft cleared his throat and opened the documents he brought with himself.
“I have a few questions to ask you.” She groaned at that, sinking in her chair, low enough so her head was touching back of her chair.
“Not that again. I thought you would be more fun, not like those… roaches you send here earlier. I want to play, not be interrogated.” She pouted for a while before she smiled again. “Play with me, Holmes.” Mycroft almost jumped when he felt her bare foot touching his ankle, yet he kept his composure and raised his eyebrow at her.
“I believe it won’t be possible, miss (y/l/n). After all you are prisoner here.” She groaned again but didn’t take her leg back, instead she started messing with his socks and shoe laces. He paid it no mind, looking into the files. “You have a really interesting story. Stealth of Denmark’s royal fortune, attack on American government, blackmail on European electricity factories… and now you got captured on England’s territory, doing groceries, while every countries governments were searching for you. Why?”
“I got bored.” She pulled on his shoelace, untying it. “Wanted to lay low… or meet the infamous Ice Man myself.” She looked up at his files and frowned a little. “You can cross out the bomb attack speculations and possible ISIS collaboration. I don’t play in those climates.” He looked at her with raised eyebrow. “I prefer it burning, more than blowing… or do I?” she grinned at him after her last words, watching with growing amusement the blush growing slowly on his cheeks when he let the words sink in. “Send your man away.”
“Which man?” She groaned at that and took her leg away, straightening and crossing her arms at her chest, her expression cold.
“I don’t like being treated as an idiot. I’m done playing go away.” He sat there for five more minutes, watching as she avoided looking at him, more interested in the celling. Sighing he got up and walked to the door, trying not to notice his untied shoelace. Interrogating her will be a huge pain in his ass.

Two days later he got back again, his people were again behind a mirror, while he sat in front of woman, whom was playing with her (h/l) (h/c) hair.
“And your dogs are with us again.” She sighed, letting go of a stand of her hair and stretching, her shirt going slightly up. Mycroft once again found himself looking down on her, right before he caught himself and straightened.
“How about you tell me, what you were doing in England?”
“Groceries. I like milk here.” He felt his eye twitch at that. She leaned in his direction again, her fore and middle finger moving on a table top in his direction. “But maybe, once I get out and away from here, I will come back for something more… warm, next time.” She dumped his knuckles with her finger and quickly took it away, grinning at his flushed expression. “You really are interesting mister Holmes. You really think I’m like rest of those ordinary people, don’t you? As if you are above me.” Her hand got back to her hair, tugging at them slightly. “But you have to try harder, if you want me below you. You would like that, don’t you?” Mycroft got up and left the room quickly, slamming the doors behind him and walking to his office, to which he also slammed the doors and leaned against them, his breath heavy, cheeks red and heart beating way too quickly for his liking. He was nearly perfectly sure he heard the woman’s laughter and cussed at the tightness in his pants. How on earth has she managed to do that to him.

Mycroft weren’t sure why he send his people away the third time when he went to (y/n). He preferred not to think about it when he entered the room, where she was, already waiting for him, turned in her chair and watching as he closed the door behind him and walked to his usual spot.
“I like this suit better than previous one and the tie match your eyes. Have I told you that I like men in suits? Because I do, really much, especially you.” Once more, her thin lips curved into a smile. She was nearly lying in her chair again. “I don’t like the light in this room. It’s too dark, don’t you think? But it suit you more, isn’t it? You are so pale, you don’t go out much, do you? It’s not healthy. And you forgot your dogs today… wanted me all for yourself Mr. Holmes?” He took a deep breath when he felt her feet on his ankle again. “Food here is shit. Maybe you may be the gentleman you claim you are and take me out for dinner?” He raised his brow at her. “I could use some shopping before that. You are dressing so nice for me, and I can’t pay you back.” Mycroft grinded his teeth when he felt her leg travelling up to his knee and back.
“Why would you do that, miss (y/l/n)?” She looked in his eyes through her eyelashes.
“Woman should look good for her man, don’t you think that… Mycroft?” He caught her feet when he felt in on his inner tight. (y/n) grinned at that, trying to move her feet a little, yet he was holding it tight. “Let me go. It’s no fun when you hold it.”
“What are you playing, (y/l/n)?” Instead of letting go of her feet he rubbed his thumb against her ankle. Her skin was smooth there and Holmes caught himself wondering how would it feel to touch the rest, not only of her leg.
“Just an old game.” She pulled the sleeve of her shirt and put it to her nose, right before the whole room got full of gas. Before he was able to react, Mycroft felt his body going numb, his fingers letting go of her feet. (y/n) got up from her chair and walked to him, her hips swaying slightly with her every move. “It’s called seduction.” She leaned to him and took her sleeve from her face, her nose dumping against his. “Thanks for not having security today.” Last thing he remembered were her lips, pushing furiously against his, after that was only darkness.

Gentleman with the Thistle-down Hair in the Venetian Mirror. From Susanna Clarke’s book: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell; illustration by Soni Alcorn-Hender
Available here:

After the Dance (1883). Sir John Lavery (Irish, 1856-1941). Oil on canvas.

A study of a forlorn young woman – a favourite, unidentified, auburn-haired model. Lavery accentuates the contemporary Morris-inspired décor and an ornate Venetian-style mirror, large enough to reflect the fellow standing holding the girl’s cloak. The woman’s face, shrouded in a beguiling shadow, may conceal a frown as she wearily holds the dance card. 

Facts You Didn’t Know About the Chateau de Versailles (part 1)

1. Versailles earned the alias ‘gilded prison’, as that’s what it technically was before it became a museum. The king subjugated the nobles, in fear that they would rebel. All nobles were obligated to stay there at least once in their life, and had to do manual jobs in order to gain the king’s favour. An example of a manual job would be to put on the king’s shirt in the morning. Nobles lost a chunk of their rights, and feudalism was abolished.

2. There are 357 mirrors in the Hall of Mirrors. When it was built, Venice had a monopoly on making mirrors, but France was not deterred by this fact, and enticed Venetian mirror makers to make some specifically for the palace. These Venetian craftsmen who contributed to the construction were later assassinated by order of the Venetian government for giving away their secrets.

3. The gate at the front of the palace is a replica of the original. It was completed in 2009, with the use of real gold. The original baroque gate constructed under Louis XIV was destroyed during the French revolution. They both look the same, so it all turned out well.

4. Versailles uses the same hydraulics from 300 years ago, with a bit of a more modern twist. Back in the day, fountains were to be cranked to turn on. Whenever the king walked by, a group of men would hurry up to the cranker and crank the fountain on. Then once he left, they turned it off. Fountains are still cranked on to this day in certain parts of the estate, most often during fountain shows.

5. The statues of the fountains are dedicated to Greek mythology. The most famous one, the Fountain of Latona. Latona was the mother of Apollo and Artemis. She was wandering the earth after giving birth to her sons, and attempted to drink the water from a pond in Lycia. The peasants who lived there refused to allow her to do so by stirring the mud at the bottom of the pond. Latona turned them into frogs for their inhospitality, forever doomed to swim in the murky waters of ponds and rivers. This is why you see frog statues at the edge of the fountains.