#well its not like i *have to* put them in historical clothes its not like this gacha game is very historical...

[ded-lime]

my attempt at lily versions

[the-californicationist]

There’s always a sexy little literature element in your books. I’d salivatteee over price as a grumpy librarian in some small town. Ughh with some small glasses and flannel. He’s so obsessed with the nerdy little frequenter who hides away in some section in the back to read. Imagine him peeking thru the books to catch a glimpse and sees her putting on a private little show in the some hidden away section. Little does he know she wants her grumpy librarian to watch 🦭. I know you’d make this so sexy and delicious, you deviant woman 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

i love you so much @ofdivinity01 <3 i hope this quick fic hits those points for you <3 <3

The Archives

John Price has retired, and he has tried out a number of different jobs to keep his mind occupied. One of his favorite jobs so far has been working in the archives of a library, especially since there's a pretty little regular that has been haunting his thoughts.

TW: female genitalia, overt sex, pwp, seriously its plotless, 3rd person POV

AO3 Link

Working as a library archivist was not how John Price had pictured his retirement beginning. To be fair, he didn’t need the money. Retiring before the age of forty with a comfortable (substantial) bank account to reflect a job well done was already an achievement. So, tackling another high-stress, high-profile career seemed doable yet unnecessary. He’d stuck around the house for a while, pottering about with some renovations or garden projects, but it wasn’t enough. He was antsy. It was only when his old friend, Steve Kosser, the director of a top-level historical documents archive, called him and asked for some extra security coverage that he’d realized having a gun on his belt felt familiar in a way that he wasn’t sure he liked. But, he loved the library. 

John had always loved books. His house was full of them. He had stacks on each and every surface. The classics, some Shakespeare, a bit of poetry, some nonfiction… he would read anything. There was even a bodice-ripper or two tucked away unseen, but he wasn’t ashamed. Reading kept him sharp. It taught him about people, about their nature, about possibilities, about hope in places where there was none. 

His work had quickly transitioned from security to desk work, and from desk work to archival data entry. Now, he was a procurement specialist, reaching out across the world to find texts and documents that his clients needed. Being close to the university meant that he had some repeat customers, but there were few who caught his eye like her. 

She was his shadow-cloaked phantom, haunting him from the back corner. Her wardrobe was black on black on black, never daring to show him more than a hand or a wrist, or a bit of her neck other than her face. But, he lived for that face. Round, full cheeks, and a downturned smile when he greeted her each evening that she decided to come in to work. He dreamt of that smile almost as much as her plump, thick ass, and heavy, ample breasts; all hidden beneath her modest clothing. Part of him warred against his lust, chastising him for ogling her when she was just here to work on her graduate research, but the other part of him was… harder to convince. 

But, tonight, in his almost empty archive section, he was given a true gift. She came in from the downpour outside, and he almost didn’t recognize her. He saw her tumble into the door, shaking her umbrella, frustrated and wet, but he’d needed to do a double-take. This was not his modest little raven, hiding behind her feathers. No, she was a bird of paradise tonight. 

Her feet were lined with strappy black heels, high and platformed, shining in patent leather, wet from the puddles outside. Her legs were bare, and as he raked his eye upwards, he lingered on her round calves, her muscular thighs, wide and smooth, all leading him up under a high, pleated skirt, dark green plaid, sitting high on her waist, doing little to hide that juicy rump. She had on a button-down shirt, starched and white, but he could see her black bra underneath, the rain making the fabric of her top transparent. Her hair was up in some sort of style, pulled away from her face and her neck, curling and gleaming from the droplets. 

She was panting from the cold, and from rushing inside, and that didn’t help his cause. He’d been battling a succession of throbbing hard-ons ever since he’d first spotted her, and that was weeks ago. At home, he’d retreat to his bedroom, rod in hand, working himself into an orgasmic froth, trying his best to picture literally anyone but her. But, she would flash into his mind, her smile, those eyes, that skin… and he’d be lost. 

When he saw a request come in from her library account, it was just as bad if not worse. His primal body would celebrate, happy that she needed his help, and that he could provide for her, and he’d be in a tumultuous, heart-pumping, cock-stretching predicament yet again. He’d cloistered himself away, deep in the darkness of the stacks, fisting himself in rushed, punishing strokes, coming in his open palm, stopping himself from ruining the historical treasures he was meant to be protecting, hanging his head in love-drunk shame. 

But now, in some sort of twisted, scholarly fantasy, here she was. His curvy little grad student, dripping wet and coming straight up to his desk. 

“Hiya, John,” she whispered, her voice somehow cutting through the blood that pounded through his ears. 

“Hey there, love. It’s cats and dogs out there, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she looked down at herself, trying to squeeze the water from her top, stretching it even thinner across her visible bra line, the black lace now fully visible to him, its floral pattern burning itself into his mind like fire on a page, licking black soot and tormenting him deep in his belly.

“Do you think you could help me?” She looked up at him with those doe eyes, pleading.

His body responded before he did, plumping himself back to life, feeling how the body of his prick pressed itself down the leg of his jeans. Yes, sweetheart, we’ll fuckin’ help you, won’t we, mate?

John shook it off, nodding his head, 

“Sure, what’s the problem?”

She pulled some copies out of her bag,

“A friend sent these over, but I don’t think they match the microfiche film that you have here. I hate to ask you this, but could you help me do a cross-check? I really just need someone to listen while I read from the fiche film.”

“You bet.”

John followed her like a loyal mutt over to the dark microfiche machine, his tail surely wagging if he had one, stealing glance after fiery glance at that delectable body as she walked, those heels clacking against the terrazzo floors. 

She found the machine she wanted and perched herself on the tiny stool. He sat beside her, eyes glued to the page, afraid of himself if he dared look anywhere else. The way the machines were set up meant that she would have her eyes stuck in the viewfinders, like she was scoping out the horizon on a submarine, while the soft golden glow from the machine would light up her unbuttoned cleavage, making her body that much more visible as he stared at her from his periphery. 

“Okay,” she positioned her eyes in the machine’s goggle-like viewer, unable to see anything around her but the film she was flipping through, “We’re on page seventy-four, right?”

John looked down at his packet, 

“Yep, seventy-four.”

“Okay, oh—!” She twisted herself on the stool, trying to get more comfortable, but her ass was too much for the tiny seat to handle. He reached out on instinct, catching her on her flank, gripping her none too lightly, saving her from falling. 

“Gotcha,” he laughed. 

She peeked out of the viewfinder for a moment, smiling, 

“Shit, I’m sorry. Mmm,” she cooed, “Your hand is so warm. Didn’t realize how cold I was.”

“Tha’s alright, love. We’ll getcha warmed back up.”

She gave him an encouraging look as she turned back to the viewfinder, and John felt like he had earned her approval to keep his hand planted right where it was. 

As she read from the film, he followed along, not really needing to report any corrections, but his palm was itching to travel. He had a hold on her hip, part of his hand riding the hem of her skirt, feeling the chill of her flesh, pebbling from the damp cold. Then, he began to pet the spot, rubbing it to create some warmth, generate some heat with his friction, and every brush from his palm meant that the wool of her skirt would scrunch up, revealing more and more of her plump butt as he did so. Eventually, he was under her skirt, realizing that the skirt was all there was. No panties, no hose, no nothing. 

“Ah, uh…” He made his excuses, “Sorry, love. Got a little carried away keepin’ you from freezin’ in here.”

He removed his hand for a moment, and then, the impossible: she grabbed it and placed it back where it was, peeking at him from the fiche machine, 

“Top of page seventy-nine, according to Marchante, the lost letters from Smith to Callant, prior to the war of 1617…” 

Game on. 

Price followed along dutifully, confirming each page with her, but now, spurred on by her teasing consent, his hand wandered unbridled. His fingers squeezed her body like the flesh of a ripe peach, soft and supple, giving way under his ferocious strength. Deeper and deeper, he snaked his way down the curve of her cheek, hunting for the parts of her that wouldn’t be taken by the cold. Her little, dripping furnace; that’s what he wanted. 

When he found it, her breath hitched. His ring and pinky fingers dropped far enough down to find her hanging right off of the stool, her holes uncovered, open to the air, unguarded and vulnerable to his searching hands. The slick, lava-hot heat that he discovered there as he sank between her folds warmed him from the inside, turning his erection into a huge fucking problem, painful and hungry for her sticky, sweet treat. When her words stuttered, he pumped his fingers deeper inside of her, steady in and steady out, up and down, the quiet milking noises muffled by her skirt. 

“Tch. C’mon, love, don’t stop readin’,” he purred in her ear, daring to plant a soft kiss in the hollow of her neck, pulling back to watch the goosebumps pebble across her skin not from the chill, but from him. 

“...in the, uh…” she was breathing heavy.

“In the coming months…” he prompted, teasing her with his hand, curling his fingertips as he delved deeper, pulling out some of her wetness to paint her lips, feeling her muscles loosen up for him, readying her for something more than his thick digits. 

“...in the coming months, the two armies… they… um, they…”

“C’mon, sweetheart. Tha’s a good girl. Keep going.”

She tried her best, and he almost felt bad for her, but not that bad. Because when he added another finger, sinking his middle alongside his ring, letting his pointer finger lazily tease its way up the slick surface of her folds, reaching for her clit, her reading stopped entirely. 

“Mm, fuck!” She hissed under her breath, “John… I can’t…”

“I know, baby. I know. But, this is your bloody fault, innit?” John whispered, his voice gravelly and rolling beneath his breath, “You came in here, you wanted this, didn’t you?”

“No…” She whined, her mouth hanging open, her lips shining with a little bit of her own drool. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he warned darkly, “You wanted to see if I would take your fuckin’ bait.”

Another finger, three of them, twisting and curling, bending and rubbing against her tight walls, and that was enough for her confession.

“Yes. Yes, I… yes, fuck…”

“And you wore this just for me, didn’t you?”

“...yes.”

“My good girl,” John praised her, tossing the packet down on the desk and using his free hand to widen the neckline of her shirt.

He pulled at the fabric until he broke a button, forcing her breasts through the opening, shoving his hand into her bra to fondle her nipples and squeeze her full tits. Then, he made a true effort to tuck her clothes under them, letting her breasts sit on top of her bra cups, hanging freely in the soft glow of the reading machine. Now, with her nipples on full display, he could bend down to kiss them, to nip at them softly, suckling at her skin as he fingered her, eliciting nothing but desperate, quiet mewls from her open mouth. 

“John, please…”

She was barely perched on the stool anymore, her ass shifting and trembling, trying to present itself to him, her body wordlessly begging for more and more of his touch. 

“Please, what? Want me to pull a different document?” He chuckled, removing himself entirely, making as if to stand and leave her there a half-naked, dripping mess. 

“No!” She gasped, grabbing him by his shirt, yanking him back, shying away from his cruel laughter. 

He returned to her, using his fingers to explore her swollen pussy and, now, to lightly rim his way around the tight ring of her asshole. His once-gentle suckles against her puffy nipples turned into rough, bruising kisses, making her squirm from pleasure and pain, crying out for him. 

“Greedy thing,” he panted, feeling her flutter around his hand, “You wanna come on me? Right here? In the middle of my fuckin’ library?”

She nodded, her eyes now fixated on the way he was playing with her tits, stealing sweet kisses from her mouth when she would cry out too loudly. 

“Teasin’ me for weeks,” he admitted, pulling his hand from beneath her skirt, suckling on his fingers to taste her, sticking them in her mouth so she could join him, watching her pupils dilate as her own heady fluids touched her tongue. 

“So pretty…” John kissed her, and then it was his turn to gasp. 

She had let her hands wander to his lap, rubbing the outline of his cock through his jeans, teasing the head when she finally found it, encouraging him to buck against her touch. 

He started to fuck her with his hand; long, deep strokes, no longer caring about the lewd noises he was making as his knuckles churned within her, soaked and pumping in an unravelling rhythm. 

To hide her screams, he pressed his mouth against hers, stuffing her pretty cheeks full of his tongue, feeling her suck against it for comfort as she fell apart. 

Then, she was wet beyond belief, dripping all over his palm, creamy and hot, giving him a reward for every cruel thrust of his hand. She was gripping onto his cock’s shaft for dear life, holding it like a lifeline, and her tight grip was enough to drag him right along the edge with her. 

By the time he pulled away from her, she was a shuddering, trembling mess. Her legs were shaking, barely able to keep her balance on the tiny stool, her tits red and purple from his assault. 

“C’mere, sweetheart. Let’s go back to my office, yeah? Get you all cleaned up.”

She nodded, not even bothering to cover herself as he helped her stand, walking in front of him as he led her through the back door to the restricted area, her eyes hooded and exhausted from her ordeal, so sweet and trusting. 

“Thanks for your help, John,” she sighed, smiling up at him with that same grin that had haunted his dreams, “I wish there was some way that I could repay you. Is there anything I can do?”

Now that they were in his office, he sat her on his desk, unbuttoning the last remaining buttons of her blouse, peeling her bra away from her shoulders, unzipping the side of her skirt, grinning down at her wet sex, licking his lips like the wolf that he was,

“Oh, baby, there are so many things you could do for me. But, let’s start with you spreading your legs, hm?”

“Like this?” She did as he asked, watching him slide her skirt off of her body, letting it ruffle to the floor, leaving her in nothing but her heels. Slowly, she pulled her knees apart, showing off for him, knowing that as much as he was the wolf, she was more than just prey. 

“Holy shite,” John murmured under his breath, watching as she bloomed for him, a pink petal in the darkness of his own shadow. 

He knelt before her, eager to put his mouth against her softness, lapping his tongue against her like he was starving. Her thick thighs felt good in his hands, and he pried her open with them, pulling her legs even wider than she had dared. 

He dragged his tongue along every fold and dripping line of delicate skin, finding the swollen body of her clit nestled beneath its hood, shining for him like a pretty pink gem. He pressed his fingers back inside of her, not granting her any mercy, starting with three, stretching his way back in. 

John’s hand fucked her as he drank from her, reaping what he sowed, over and over, in and out, rubbing her to her peak and dragging her over the edge. 

She was gleaming down his beard by the time he’d had his fill. His tongue coated in her slick, swallowing her down his throat, enjoying the lingering taste of her in his mouth. 

His poor darling was hoarse from her keening, sweating, trembling below him, a drenched mess on his desktop. He chuckled, petting her skin with his callused hands, 

“Had enough?”

Her eyes were full of worry and anticipation as she looked up at him, wanting to say yes, but shaking her head no. 

He teased her, unzipping his fly, letting his cock roll out onto her belly, thrusting it forward until he was flush with her hips, showing her just how deep he would reach. Her eyes widened with shock as she reached down to touch him, feeling him dripping with precome far above her navel. 

John tapped himself against her, heavy and stiff, 

“Change your mind?”

“Um…” Her voice was small, but she still looked up at him expectantly, so he rubbed his head through her folds as a final warning. 

“Ungh! Mmf– John…” She moaned his name, rocking her hips against his long shaft, her knees shaking every time his head buried itself in her folds. 

He slapped his cockhead against her clit as if knocking for entry, making her gasp, 

“I’m not hearing a no, love.”

She covered her mouth with her hands, trying to stop herself from screaming as she felt him notch his head into the cradle of her pussy, pressing forward just enough to stretch her with the body of his cock, watching as her eyes began to fill up with tears, overwhelmed by his size. 

By the time he was halfway into her warm core, her eyes had rolled behind her fluttering lashes, her breath stuck in her throat, her lips parted, showing him her lolling tongue. 

“Tha’s it, sweetheart. Let me take care of you, yeah?” John grunted, shoving himself the rest of the way through her clenched muscles, listening to the sounds of her wetness as her body tried to make room for his immense girth. 

As John began to thrust into her, she squeezed herself against him, fighting off another orgasm, each of them coming closer and closer together as she became almost overstimulated by him. He held his fist over her lower belly, leaning forward to put his weight down into his knuckles, making her feel every inch of him. 

The pressure from his hand turned her into a gooey mess, her body throwing everything it could to accommodate him, her cries dragging out into deep moans, fully under his spell. 

He couldn’t help himself. All of those nights where his cock had only been comforted by his own hand were running him down, crackling at the edges of his mind, eating away at his humanity, ravenous and desperate. Finally feeling her, hearing her cry for him, watching the way her pussy sucked him in; it was making him wild. 

His desk was rocking off of its feet, scooting across the floor of his office, John’s strength too much for it to hold him back. He pulled her knees together, using them to push her thick thighs against her belly, holding her down at a new angle. For a few moments, he let himself get lost in the delightful jiggle of her body as he railed against her, admiring how her fat ass rippled with each of his thrusts. 

“John… J–John. Oh, my God,” she gripped the edge of the table, her elbows framing her head on either side, the new position making her breasts hang and sway like heavy teardrops. 

“Come for me, love. C’mon. Let me feel it,” he growled breathlessly, leaning against her leg, letting his lips and tongue graze along her ankle, tracing the skin between the straps of her gleaming heels. 

“I’m… so close…”

John kept his pace, even though everything within him wanted to breakdown and follow her over the edge. His cock was throbbing, sending him every signal that it was ready to burst, his aching balls full and tight, the nerves in his groin burning with hot pleasure. 

Then, he was rewarded for his patience. She began to unfurl beneath him, unraveling like a tangled ball of yarn, chaotic and spinning out of control. Her muscles within her core clamped down on his cock, milking him like a hungry mouth, yanking him deeper inside of her as she came. With all of the strength he had left, he pulled himself out of her at the last moment, spraying rope after rope of his come across her pulsating hole, painting her pussy with his own orgasm, grunting like a rabid animal. 

He let her legs fall open, weak as she was, watching as she melted on his desk, laying beside her. She curled into him, resting her head on his chest, still fully clothed in stark contrast to her nakedness. Both of them were breathing in ragged, exhausted bursts, clinging to each other for any kind of strength they could find left. 

“Thanks for… helping me, John,” she smiled up at him, kissing his neck. 

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he kissed her forehead, “Research is my second favorite thing.”

“What’s your first?” She looked lost, still reeling from what he had just put her through. 

“Oh, love,” he let out a low rumbling laugh, “Gimme a few minutes and I’ll show you again.”

[thehaberdasheress]

Valentine's Day for embroidery nerds

Something I love about historical embroidery is how much the present and the past are stitched together. Valentine's Day is one of those things that's centuries old, but still a little new and fresh every time it rolls around. It is what we put into it, as well as what it used to be.

I print patterns onto interfacing that sticks to the fabric while you stitch. Then when you're done, you just dunk it in water to wash the pattern off!

So here are my new festive offerings:

Visible mending patches: Hearts I and Hearts II

I couldn't decide on one, so why not both? These are great if you want an easy way to embroider little wee hearts on things! They really shine when they're used for visible mending. You can use them to attach new patches to holes in old clothes, and look good doing it.

Embroidery Border: Lovebirds High

I wanted something big and fun, so I designed this one myself. Its figurative grandparents are Renaissance blackwork and Scandinavian Rosemaling. I liked being able to combine an existing embroidery border into a bigger pattern. 7.5 cm (3") wide and 16" (40cm) long.

Embroidery Border: Lovebirds Low

Another original design! I've been making a lot of birds lately. To me these feel like office-worker sparrows that have stopped to kvetch together on a window ledge during their seed break. Love... is on the staff meeting agenda. 1 ¼" (3.5 cm) wide and 40 cm (16") long

And finally...

The apple of my eye, the jewel of my crown, Renaissance Hearts

God bless Bartolomeo Veneto (active 1502-1531), who was incredibly good at painting clothing. Because this one, I could make literally the same pattern. I could just go...

The pattern is 3.5 cm (1 ¼") wide and 16" (40 cm) long.

My Etsy Store has even more designs, as well as some fashion accessories. Shipping is free on orders $40 CAD and above.

And as always, I remain deeply grateful for your attention, energy, enthusiasm, and patronage. I am so lucky to have this business; it's changed my life. Thank you!

[tanuki-kimono]

hello!

to start off, i just wanna say that i love your blog and it has been a wonderful archive and resource for kimono and japanese fashion history!

on that note, i was wondering if you happen to know about these tight sleeves worn by the main characters on jidaigeki? (circled in red)

someone on reddit suggested that it could be a strip of sarashi wrapped around the arm, while this ask here said it could be a juban with its long sleeves bounded tightly (they did provide a link which is now unfortunately no longer available).

i was just wondering which is correct, and if these sleeves are historically accurate?

thank you! ☺️

Hi! Thank you for your kind words <3

Well technically one could use fabric strips to wrap arms (and legs), but it's dubious this would have been done unless you were a rag-wearer of some kind. This is inconceivable in a formal setting (first pic), and for well-off samurai (second pic).

To my knowledge, juban would not have been used like this either. Wrapping them would have looked wonky and felt uncomfortable considering juban tailoring.

Arm wrappers are in fact a whole category of "traditional" clothing, and generally called 手甲 tekkou, which designates any mittens-like arm bracers, tied with strings and/or kohaze clasps.

Variations existed:

in length, for example 半手甲 wrist to elbow / 長手甲 wrist to upper arm often tied together on the bust

with or without part covering backs of hands, coming in different shapes and styles, attached or not with a loop around middle finger (山付き手甲, 手甲付き手筒).

Similar attire existed for legs, in form of gaiters/leg warmers called 脚絆 kyahan.

(find more, including another "sexy" kyahan pic, and how to put them on here)

As a side note, vocab around mitten-like clothing can be confusing:

手甲 Tekkou, is the generic term for anything covering the arms and hands, including gauntlet/armored ones (which I know under the term 籠手 kote)

But you can also find the word 腕貫 udenuki = arm tube, which can made from several materials like rattan/bamboo (worn under sleeves to keep fresh during summer, or above them to protect sleeves when writing with a brush), or made from fabric (and used for warmth, to keep dirt away, etc. Also called 腕袋 udebukuro)

Nowadays, both tekkou and kyahan are still super common sight during matsuri, as they are part of the attire of mikoshi bearers and taiko drumers (see this shop here and here):

Hope this helps :)

[trans-rite]

How to join the Transgender Ancestor Rite: an FAQ on our updated format

What is it?

an annual, non-denominational ritual honoring transgender individuals who have passed on

an act of solidarity with the lineage of transgender ancestors who have come before us and paved the way, as well as with the descendants who will come after us when we are gone

a chance to share tenderness and kindness with the restless spirits of transgender people who lost their lives to violence

an opportunity for living transgender folks, including those who have lost trans loved ones, to grieve, mourn, and pray

a labor of love from a multiracial group of trans spirit workers, each at various stages of study in ancestor veneration practices, who have been putting on this ritual since 2014

When is it?

the ritual should take place on or around the Trans Day of Remembrance on November 20th, preferably within a week

most of us do it at night but any time of day is fine

if you need to do it a little before or after the 20th, don't sweat it

Where is it?

wherever you are!

groups are welcome to host local events and inform us about them, but the ritual itself takes place in a location of your own choosing, usually at home

if you have access to a local TDOR event that could incorporate some or all of this ritual, you are welcome to bring it there

most of the organizers have historically been located in the northeastern US but you don’t have to be

Who is it for?

it honors everyone from this year’s Trans Day of Remembrance official list, as well as any other deaths of trans individuals from the year that participants wish to include

illness losses, violent deaths, suicides, and natural deaths are all eligible for inclusion

it includes, cumulatively, all transgender deaths from previous years as well, named on the TDOR lists and unnamed, throughout history

it honors and praises the trans ancestors, people who were alive both recently and longer ago, who feel themselves in connection with us, who have received the care and honor we offered through previous years’ rituals, who are bright and well and who can tend the line from the other side

participants can be trans or cisgender, of any or no denomination or faith

Does it cost money?

nope! this is an anticapitalist affair

you can buy incense and offerings if you like, but you don’t need to spend money to participate

Why are y’all doing this?

honestly this could take pages and pages about the importance of this work and of soothing the troubled dead and tending our ancestral line et cetera et cetera ad infinitum but the short version is

we gotta

our ancestors require it and we’re making sure they get it

Okay, how does it work?

during the ritual, you sit or stand at an altar, light a candle, put out a glass of fresh water, and read a prayer

you may also make any other offerings you feel called to do

if so moved, you read the names of the dead from this year's TDOR list and call on our bright and well ancestors to tend to these newly passed souls

all the people participating in all the different places in the world help create a rising raft of energy that is greater than the sum of its parts, delivering the restless dead among our line into the care of our bright and well ancestors, who, in turn, also care for us, the living

Prayers? I thought you said this was non-denominational.

prayers can involve divinity, or they can be kind and soothing words to say to the dead

you can look through our prayers tag to get ideas and inspiration, but feel free to find poems on your own and/or write something yourself as well 

you are welcome to include deity or not, as you prefer

the organizers of this ritual incorporate gods and spirits in our practices but you by no means need to

on the flip side, if you want your gods involved, feel free to do so in whatever respectful manner works for you

What do I need on my altar?

the basics are an altar cloth (white is traditional; a bandana works), a cup to be filled with water, and a new or dedicated candle (white is traditional here also but follow your instincts)

other great offerings include cut flowers, portions of your food and drink (though alcohol is not advised with restless spirits), tobacco, honey, pictures and/or names of the deceased, art, music, dancing, and any gender paraphernalia you think the ancestors might like

do not put pictures of living people on the altar

it can be as simple or ornate as you choose: the important parts are the candle, the cup, and the cloth

Isn’t it sketchy to be working with dead people?

a little bit

it is much less sketchy since our format change in 2022, at which point this ritual shifted from working directly with restless spirits (dicey) to interfacing with them only through our cadre of elevated bright and well ancestors who have already benefited from previous years' rituals

we advise that you cleanse or purify in whatever way you prefer, ideally before and after the working

if you’re in a Western (especially American Christian) culture that views death as The End and discussion of death as taboo, consider reading up on cultures where ancestor veneration is a normal part of everyday life (hint: it’s most of them)

Other questions? Send them in and we’ll answer them, and maybe add them to the list! If you post about the ritual, tag #troe2023 and we will check it out!

Thank you for joining us!

- Mod Alder and team

[chere-indolente]

Newlyn Fisher Clothing Set

I come to you today with this little historical seaside fashion interlude (before going back to work on more 1880′s sets). This set includes cable knit sweaters in high and low waisted, and variations on traditional fishermen smocks. More pics and download below

This set is partly inspired by the works of the school of Newlyn, a group of painters known to have depicted the surrounding of Newlyn, a Cornish coastal town, and its many fishermen in the 1880′s to 1900′s. And here is the painting that I referenced in the promo picture.

—————————  Cableknit Sweater  ————————

———————————————————————————

This is the sweater from the Werewolf pack without the little laced up strings on the shoulders (why do you always add these unnecessary details EA ? 😅). I’ve made a short version (S) for my high waisted needs and a long (L) version, for both masc and fem frames, as well as both adult and children. 

Cableknit sweaters originated from Ireland, in the Aran Islands, though other types of knitted jumpers called gansey already existed in the British, Irish and Channel isles. They were created between the 1890′s and 1900′s. They were initially knitted with unwashed and undied wool. Both the natural lanolin from the virgin wool and the knitted patterns made for water resistant sweaters and as such : good alternatives to the previously used ganseys made of oiled wool died with indigo.

 These Aran sweaters slowly became some fashionable sportswear item during the 20′s and 30′s, and later reached its peak popularity in the 50s’ and 60′s worn by the likes of Grace Kelly and Steve McQueen.

40 solid swatches

for adults and children

2 lenghts : S & L

——————————— Vareuse V1 ——————————

———————————————————————————

Vareuses are a style of fishermen smocks with a V neck. This style was typical of Brittany fishermen though I have seen depiction of Norwegian fishermen for example sporting this style of smocks on 1880s paintings too. While I couldn’t find substancial informations on their origins and date of appereance, vareuses seem to have been used at least as far as mid 19th century and were still worn as work wear up til the mid 20th. 

It is said that traditionally fishers wore different colors depending on their fishing style : yellow ones for those shellfish picking, rust colored ones for those using fish traps, red ones for oyster farmers and blue ones for those fishing in the open seas.

Fishermen smocks were oiled to be water repellant and worn on top of clothes and knitted garments to protect them from water and keep them relatively clean.

On this 1st version of the vareuse I’ve not put any clothing “underneath” to allow for warm weather and for combinations with accessory shirts or turtlenecks.

33 solid swatches

for adults and children

——————————— Vareuse V2 ——————————

———————————————————————————

This 2nd version of a vareuse include a cableknit jumper sticking out of the V neck collar. The set also includes an overlay to pick the color of said cableknit jumper.

33 solid swatches

39 solid swatches on the cableknit overlay (located in the right wrist section)

for all ages

—————————  Cornish Crewneck  ————————

———————————————————————————

Similarly to the vareuse, the crewneck is a style of fishermen smocks. This style is traditionally associated with Cornwall, in the north west of England. Cornish crewneck smocks were used similarly to vareuses.

33 solid swatches

for all ages

———————————————————————————

Download : dropbox — simfileshare

———————————————————————————

[phospadparadscha]

Church dance + Gems au = accidental near-fusion???

And now, for the main event: Black Opal, the fusion of an Orange Pearl (Kim Kitsuragi) and mystery gem (Harry Du Bois). Below is a reference I made:

Black Opal, the fusion of Harry and Kim as part of my Disco Elysium / Steven Universe crossover AU. I really wanted to lean into the nostalgia and adrenaline junkie aspects of both characters. The conclusion I came to was a 70s biker. I think every time I've seen a picture of someone's american dad back when they were younger, it was a guy with insane facial hair and a homoerotic biker fit, which lead me to this as the aesthetic for a fusion of these two. These are black opals, for reference:

As a fusion, they both struggle to speak as a singular being. They are not a very stable fusion, mostly due to Harry's damaged gem and how quickly they both can diverge from each other in action and personality. When they do agree however and can maintain Black Opal, its the aspect of themselves that brings out the daring qualities of the other; the one that says "hold on!" and presses their foot on the accelerator, the one that revs their engine, the one that brings a boombox to a boat ride. After a while Black Opal is able to assimilate both aspects of Kim and Harry, as seen in the last panel where his enthusiastic and showboating personality (which both Harry and Kim posses individually in different ways) becomes more like a singular being, like other fusions in the show.

I arranged their limbs and eyes according to where I think they diverge in terms of personality and what they try to accomplish as a fusion / where their interests conflict. This seems to be the case for fusions in Steven Universe as well, where the less harmonious a fusion is, the less proportional the limbs and eyes are to a human body. Harry and Kim have divergences in their eyes and in their forearms. While physically they follow each other in a common goal, Harry and Kim have different ways of handling the world and diverge in their sense of interfacing. Kim has a delicate touch generally, while Harry tends to brute force his way through obstacles. They also have divergent eyes; They both see the world very differently and have different reactions to the same stimulus. Besides these two divergences, they are a fairly harmonious fusion physically.

This is Kim's first fusion, meanwhile Harry has fused before with multiple people from Precinct 41 and his ex, but due to his amnesia he doesn't remember that he has.

Harry and Kim are both basically in historical cosplay throughout the entire game, and I liked the idea of them both being a fusion that dresses in an outdated and charming way as well, like a person out of time. Black Opal as a gemstone I chose because the rainbow coloration of Harry's pale damage on his gem would intermingle with Kim's orange pearl, while the orange and green of the two of them mixed as colors would be a darker muddy color. Thus, this would equate to a dark gem with rainbow coloration inside. Opals tend to be porous as well, which I found fitting for Harry's eroded gemstone.

I love how Harry and Kim have whack-ass facial hair in game and I wanted to give them both an insane facial hair combo. The leather jacket is basically a combination of Harry's green disco blazer and Kim's orange bomber jacket. Kim's gloves become biker's gloves, the "tie" from Harry is the bandana they both wear around their mullet with buzzed sides. They're wearing these big biker's boots, which are drawn largely from Kim's boots in game. Kim has a ton of little compartments to his clothes, so I liked the idea of there being a bunch of zippers everywhere. I'd have put even more and drawn on some patches but my hand was starting to fall off from drawing so for now this is it.

I'll definitely be drawing more of this fusion and for this AU in the future but if you guys have suggestions, ideas, art requests for the crossover let me know. The tag for posts about this au is "disco universe".

Below are some of the clothing and aesthetics I referenced while drawing Black Opal:

[enigma2meagain]

RWBY Relic Pieces in Volume 1, Symbolism of the Pieces, and How It Ties To the Broader Narrative.

Did a quick searchup on the symbolism of chess pieces, and taking what I saw into consideration (note that this is very abridged, and possibly not entirely correct):

CRDL and the Black Bishop

Bishops are representative of religion, as well as spirituality, morality, and wisdom, and a direct reference to Cardin's mythological reference, the Cardinal of Winchester. In regards to the broader narrative that RWBY sets up, he can be considered V1's partial representation of the institution of Huntsmen, more specifically the deeply flawed and darker side standing opposite to the better/neutral aspects of Huntsmen that RWBY/JNPR represent, due to being a racist bully who stands against Grimm, yet also willfully persecutes and harms the people he's supposed to fight for, such as minority groups like Faunus and (given Jaune at this point is basically a civilian in huntsmen's clothing and training wheels) the people depending on the circumstances. Also acts as a form of foreshadowing to the other deeply flawed or outright bad huntsmen we'd come to see later in the series, as well as highlighting the lack of wisdom and morality that can blight the institutions that Huntsmen are supposed to be, represent and protect.

The Black pieces in chess always move second, which highlights how the Huntsmen are a highly reactive organization, and how this severely limits their ability to truly tackle the bigger problems regarding threats like the Grimm, Salem, society's deep internal problems, and in the bigger picture, Ozpin's divine mission.

JNPR and the White Rook

Rooks are representative of the land, being symbolic of the fortress that guards a city or land and its royalty, and how they essentially "guard" the other pieces, as well as representing stability. The majority of JNPR come from civilians compared to the likes of RWBY, with this becoming completely the case after Pyrrha's death and Oscar's inclusion, and they're shown consistently throughout the series as having the strongest connections to civilians on a personal level. They also frequently as the bedrock and stabilizing influence, through Jaune, Nora and Ren's friendships and roles as supporting characters. Being white pieces also highlights how as time goes on, they would develop an increasingly proactive role through the questioning of the narrative told to them by the metaphorical "royals" (in this case, Ozpin's secret circle) and the latter's failure to actually protect them.

This is especially notable in regards to Jaune, Nora, and from a story perspective Ren, given how the former consistently questions Ozpin and his inner circle's shadier actions throughout most of V4 - V8, and Nora and Ren were failed miserably and made orphans due to the lack of huntsmen and the society around them failing to protect them, while putting them into a situation where their only recourse is to become part of the system that failed them.

RWBY and the White Knight

Knight pieces are representative of the medieval military, fitting given the status of Huntsmen, as well as being considered adventurous, valorous, and unpredictable due to their unique fighting style allowing them a level of unpredictability that other pieces don't have, fitting of how RWBY are the main proactive force to pushing Ozpin and the true nature of the secret war against Salem out into uncharted territory, forcing them to actually change and grow.

Knights are also often historically drawn from nobility, much like how every major character in RWBY has some kind of tie to Remnant's most illustrious groups or some kind of major player (Ruby and Yang being part of major Huntsmen lineages, Weiss being a rich heiress to the most powerful corporation in the world, and Blake being effectively the Princess of the Faunus, as well as having ties to the most prominent civil rights activists and movements in all iterations of the White Fang).

Much like JNPR, they are far more proactive compared to the royals they serve, actively pushing the latter outside their comfort zone in a two-pronged attack alongside JNPR, but the series also strives to highlight and deconstruct the messier aspects of their relationship as huntsmen (and thus a form of warrior caste/mercenary, with the following tension in that relationship with the people they are trying to protect) and how the unpredictable nature of their changes results in as much positive and messier forms of change, for better or worse.

This got way longer than I thought it would.

[science-fiction-is-real]

(I’m hoping not to start drama with this ask but I saw you ask someone what’s wrong with Solarpunk and they gave a horrible answer to what Solarpunk is) so Solarpunk is about being against capitalism and consumerism. It’s about being able to have the right to repair, repair your electronics, repair you clothes, and trying to help lower our impact on the Earth. So like stopping plastics, and instead use things that are truly biodegradable if we are to continue that way of convenience. It’s about stop using fossil fuels so the climate crisis will slow down to a stop so ya know. We would stop living in a major extinction event. Solarpunk is being able to merge our technology and nature so we’re being to live in coexist while still having our advances. It’s about community and being able to grow our own food and share it with others. May it be with community gardens or buildings in cities with vertical farms. Genuinely it’s not just an aesthetic and people are trying to fight against capitalism (hence the Punk) but people do create art and write literature about it as people can imagine a better future when it’s being created in art. (Like seriously automatic doors weren’t created until after people saw it as a possibility on Star Trek when it first aired.)

Again just wanted to clear up what Solarpunk is.

For those trying to follow the conversation at home, this is in response to a question I submitted to ML blogger @forevergulag about why they dislike Solar Punk. I think the answer I got from them makes a lot of sense. So I will simultaneously be running defense for their answer while offering some of my own opinions.

On to my response to this ask.

All those things you describe are well and good, but if your goal is to fight capitalism, it isn't enough to be punk. It isn't enough to be "anti-consumerist." You need to begin with a solid class analysis. You need to put our current forms of production and consumption in the context of historical development. Actually dismantling capitalism is not "punk." It's boring and difficult and it takes many generations. The first steps in building a non-capitalist world often end up looking a lot like capitalism itself.

I think a lot of what you are describing is finding alternative forms for food production, which is certainly a useful exercise... there are a lot of problems with modern food production. It would be great if there were efficient ways to incorporate food production into urban environments, find ways of growing food that don't rely toxic pesticides and fertilizers or acres-wide crop mono cultures.

However, I feel like a lot of what you are describing seems to revolve around DOWN SCALING food production, a terrible idea, and bringing a lot of non-farm workers into food production, and taking them away from their other jobs, also a terrible idea.

When you say "Our community should be able to grow our own food" I can't help but imagine the sort of small scale community I often see fetishized in some anarchist spaces. I would point out that the farmer sitting on a tractor 300 miles away from you growing your food is also part of your community. And a giant industrial farm that produces more corn than you could ever possibly know what to do with, that too is your community growing its own food.

We can't fight capitalism simply by urbanizing agriculture or bringing it down to a more local scale. And in fact, localizing agriculture and downscalling agriculture is going to have the effect of reducing food production so I am not sure that's really what we want.

[mynnthia]

hypothesis on the ethnic/cultural background of izutsumi's mom

[disclaimer: i am not a professional ethnographer, nor of any of the ethnic groups mentioned in the post. this post was written based on research done over the course of a day.

if you have any corrections, feedback, etc, please feel free to inform me! my inbox/dms are open. if there is any misinformation present, i aim to correct them] ----------

idk if anyone else into dungeon meshi has noticed this, but i think izutsumi's mom (and therefore, izutsumi herself) might've been of Nivkh (indigenous east Siberian) heritage?

[details and explanation under the readmore, its slightly long]

when dungeon meshi chapter 59 came out (~2019), i saw a few people speculating that izutsumi's mom might've been Ainu because of how her clothing style notably differed from typical Japanese clothing.

while the Nivkh robe's trim features a different pattern style (swirly) than what izutsumi's mom wears (triangular), the Nivkh robe still looks to be a closer match than Ainu robes, especially in the collar/neckline & sleeve cuff areas.

note how the Ainu robes (image 2) have a different neckline style and wider sleeves:

heres more images of the robes, but from the past this time, found in Wikimedia Commons:

image 1: Nivkh robe from 1871 image 2: Sakhalin Ainu girl (left), Nivkh boy (center), Hokkaido Ainu girl (right) in 1912

Nivkh people have had interactions with Japan dating back centuries too. heres an exerpt from wikipedia:

"For many centuries, the Nivkh were tributaries of the Manchus. After the Treaty of Nerchinsk in 1689, they functioned as intermediaries between the Russians, Manchu and Japanese, and also the Ainu, who were vassals of the Japanese. Early contact with the southern Sakhalin Ainu was generally hostile, although trade between the two was apparent"

(sorry historians for quoting wikipedia as a source here. a lot of the more reputable sources are 20-200+ page papers, and not concise enough to put on a tumblr post)

the English language wiki doesnt have much more detail on Nivkh-Japan relations unfortunately, but there seems to be more info on the Japanese language version of the page.

i've also seen at least 1 speculation that izutsumi's mom might be Mongolian, as her robe somewhat resembles a Mongolian deel. in my opinion, the robe's neckline trim having patterning makes it resemble the Nivkh robes more. this – combined with the fact that prior to the 1900s, Japan-Mongolia relations consisted mostly of Mongolian forces trying to invade japan repeatedly – makes me think Nivkh (or some other indigenous east Siberian) heritage is more likely.

i wont rule it out entirely though, as i don't know how much Ryōko Kui cares about historical-based cultural relations. regardless, here are various deel styles across different Mongolian ethnic groups, if that is of interest to anyone:

i dont really have a profound conclusion for this post tbh. i wanted to document what i found, and figured i might as well share it to tumblr.

theres limited amounts of easily accessible information on traditional eastern Siberian clothing out there, but here's 1 source i found that goes over a few groups (including Nivkh):

[drconstellation]

All The Colours In Good Omens: Version II

Part 1: Black to Gold

Even when I put together my original big colour meta back at the end of October 2023 I knew things were going to change on it. Over time it became pretty clear we were way off-track with several of the colours, and I didn't have anything for orange, which does actually appear in a significant amount in S2. There was also a bit of effort to try and incorporate the colours seen in S1 with what was appearing in S2, and to see if there was any consistency. Then I wrote the Passion of Jimbriel, and several particular religiously-themed colour-associations kept appearing, so I went on a search for a more biblical-based interpretation of colour. As a result of this, some colours have more-or-less stayed the same, some have expanded considerably in their range of meaning, and some are completely different! But I think you find the results interesting, nonetheless.

Basically, interpreting the colours in the two series is not a simple task. The colours used in S2 differ slightly to S1. For example, in S2 there is a lurid green associated with Hell (for reasons, which I will explain,) that is not used in S1. But there is also a dark green used elsewhere that turns out to have a different meaning that is not associated with Hell at all, so context becomes very important when trying to decide what it means. Rather than try and fit all the colours into one post, I'm going to split things up and take as much room as I need to explain it all this time.

BLACK

Biblical Meaning: Darkness, sin, Earth, affliction, humiliation, calamity, death, mourning

Additional: Suffering, punishment, Satan

Black doesn't automatically mean a relationship with Hell. The demons don't all wear entirely black, they are actually dressed in a lot of colour, but they do tend towards the darker shades. The colours they do wear reflect individual qualities or characterizations. For example, Lord Dagon is dark blue to reflect their fish god avatar, but it also reflects their senior authority and power. Furfur is in shades of dark green with a few tiny red highlights.

Historically black had an association with wealth over time, as it was difficult to obtain and dye black cloth. In out modern era we would tend to associate it with power and authority - or just looking "cool."

One interesting combination to mention is Aziraphale's magician's costume - black, gold and white. It's the only time we see him, an angel, wearing black. Originally it looked like he was clothing himself in mystery, but I would now say its a combination of calamity and humiliation. I've included a GIF set from S1E1 with the duo discussing Warlock's 11th birthday party in the park, plus recall Arizaphale was heckled from the audience in 1941 when his turnip trick failed. (I guess we could argue this one, its still up for debate!)

Black is also associated with the Horseperson Famine, who rides a black horse. Nobody is getting anything to eat tonight here - or the rest of the week, for that matter.

RED

We originally had red a a single colour, but it's more complex than that and needs to be split into two shades, scarlet and the darker crimson. (I will do pink in another post.)

We can still associate it generally with passion, romance, the Left Hand Side (the sinister side or demonic side), goats, sin, and the archangel Michael on the LHS of Jesus.

The Horseperson War and their parallel character Pepper from the Them both wear red as well. War is said to ride a red horse.

RED - Scarlet

Biblical Meaning: Royalty, blood of humanity

Additional: Martyrs, prostitution, wealth, power, revolution

Scarlet is a lighter red than crimson, just to differentiate between the two colours. It's the colour on the back of Crowley's collar.

Jesus was dressed in red during the Passion to mock him as a king, but he when he appears in imagery such as the sign on the Resurrectionist pub below it reflects his future status as King of kings. It also reflects his connection to humanity, through the blood he shed.

Prostitution is connected through the mention of the Whore of Babylon in Revelations, but the connection to revolutions is a more recent one that may be worth including in anticipation of S3. Wealth and power also belong here, particularly in historical connections.

RED - Crimson

Biblical Meaning: Splendor, victory, sin

Crimson is the colour that Shax wears, the darker of the two shades of red. She comes across as being hungry for success and eager for promotion, both of which tie in with the concept of victory. Her darker red is also mixed with black.

ORANGE

Biblical Meaning: Fire of God, deliverance, passionate praise

Additional: sacrifice

Originally I did not have an interpretation for orange, and did not think there was a lot of it present in S2. Then it was pointed out that Maggie's shopfront was orange, she herself wears orange several times, a lot of the extras wear orange and Beezlebub's sash is orange, too!

Yellow and orange have some cross-over in meaning with sacrifice, but I'm going to do my best to separate them and I'll explain where the fuzziness comes into play in yellow, as I think it sits best there.

Both yellow and orange are also associate with fire, as flames are seen as yellow and orange, not red. The "Fire of God" is alluding to presence of the Holy Spirit.

YELLOW

Biblical Meaning: Faith and Glory of God, anointing, joy, presence of God, fire

Additional: Illness/leprosy, God's judgement and anger, sacrifice, optimism, faithfulness in awaiting the return of a loved one

Yellow is probably the most controversial colour of the spectrum. It's the colour of Crowley's eyes, and we know Aziraphale painted the walls of the bookshop to reflect this.

But let's turn all your preconceived ideas on their heads.

It's one of the colours of fire, so it is closely associated with the presence of God, but also the expression of God's anger.

It is the colour of clear olive oil used for anointing.

On the negative side it is associated with illness, in particular with leprosy.

It is the colour that the traitor Judus Iscariot is often depicted wearing in art.

And it is the colour of saffron and marigolds, both associated with sacrifice in more than one religion. Saffron as a colour can vary in colour from pale yellow to deep orange, and so can marigolds the flower. The flower is named after the Virgin Mary, as in "Mary's-gold," and the array of petals are supposed to be symbolic of the the rays of light that crown her head, relating to the giving of her self to the Ineffable Great Plan, so to speak.

Here's Norman, leader of the yellow team at Tadfield Manor, giving his speech that includes the line "...bugger off and tend to your marigolds." I've shown in other posts that there is the allegory of the Great War/Glorious Revolution being played out here, and Norman is the analogue of Lucifer. Right after his speech he runs out and is felled by a shot to the heart: a sacrificial loser, as all the yellow team and demons end up being.

Adam wears a t-shirt with two yellow stripes on it in S1. Combined with the blue, he does appear to be anointed for a larger role in the story.

Aziraphale's hat-bands are yellow after the 1827 Edinburgh incident. Both in 1862 and 1941 his hats have a yellow ribbon around them. While this could be related to a Heavenly aspect, fanon has it that it's part of his expression of his feelings for Crowley. The tradition of using a yellow ribbon to show that one was waiting for a soldier to return from war was started around the late 1700's.

It is confirmed that the name of the colour used inside the bookshop is indeed called Va Va Voom. While it could be many things, the one thing it is not is fear.

Neither is this example - it's more likely to be fire - cleansing fire. Jim is cleaning with it.

GOLD

Biblical Meaning: Glory, divinity, holiness, eternal deity, altar, beauty, precious, kingship, majesty, righteousness

Additional: Trial of Faith

Gold is usually associated with Heaven and the divinity of the angels in Good omens. Most of the time we see the angels with some trace of gold on them. The most obvious examples were the golden collars and trim on the robes in the Job minisode in S2E2. They even wore golden sandals on their feet.

The archangels and Aziraphale all have their golden rings. Here is Michael with their ophanim ring.

We also have the golden lions that occur in several locations in S2, representing the royal house of Judea that Jesus is said to belong to.

The most interesting use of gold has been on Crowley's "throne" in S1. "Nice chair," Hastur comments at one point.

Oh, and I can't forget this one, either:

This series on colour continues in the following posts:

Part 2: Green to Purple

Part 3: Silver/Grey, White & Brown

Part 4: Tartan Colours Review

[kacakacafall]

I finally finished them! Nyo America in 1920s-1950s fashion! More specifically, in suits, so those are the looks that I think she would have when being in workplaces.

I rarely draw full-body images, turns out the thing that would persuade me to draw more of them is historical costumes Lol, and the biggest thing that makes me want to draw this set is actually Nyo America's hair. Her curly hair just resembles soooooo much with those hairstyles between the 1920s and 1950s, which also goes along with historical costumes during those times so well.

and a bonus one:

another version of 1940s Nyo America, I originally thought the costumes would suit her very well, turns out that she looks either like a school girl wearing school uniform, or a teenager who tried to put on her mother's clothes Lol, which makes sense, since fashion during those time periods are generally designed for older women, so she is still a bit too young(at least physically) to wear them.

individual drawing and related rants below:

1920s style is very distinctive, it didn't suit her body type, but the young and energetic vibe definitely goes along well with her. I actually don't think Emily was a flapper during the 1920s, she resembled the independent part of a flapper, but I think she was too workaholic to spend much time having fun Lol 1920s America is such an interesting topic to explore, in terms of Hetalia fan art/fanfiction.

1930s, all I remember before is the great depression and Hollywood glamour stuff, but no one told me that women's suits were soooo handsome and dashing during that time period?? I feel like she walked from an old movie when drawing the clothes. It somewhat felt gloomy and serious, which I feel implied the atmosphere of the 1930s, since the great depression was there.

When I looked for references and general information about 1940s fashion, it is said that during that time period, clothes designs were added with a military uniform style touch, and I definitely felt that when drawing this. It feels like an interesting hybrid of 1930s and 1950s styles, not as distinctive and striking as those two, but still has its own elements and beautiful styles.

The 1950s, it is said that it was a time period when American design started to stand on its own, which may explain why I felt that she is so in her element in this look, even if she looks 10 years older than her actual physical age Lol, She looks very mature when wearing like this, but not in a forced way, which really resemble the American 1950s history, since she was becoming a user power at that time.

Overall, I really enjoyed drawing those, it is always super interesting to explore what would Hetalia characters wear during different time periods(with various hairstyles). I may never draw the exact canon design of Nyo America, but I really like the design of her relatively short and curly hair, which really resembles the fashion trends from the 1920s to the 1950s.

[soracities]

Hi! So I tried not to say anything about some anti makeup posts I saw on your blog but I need to say this. I think you're very wise and I agree it's very important for us to love ourselves as we are. But some people like myself doesn't care about 'empowering' of makeup or whatever but we just have fun with it and we just love it. I say we because I know there is a lot of people like me. Yeah, we are feeding capitalism or whatever, but world is beautiful and it's also terrible so people trying make themselves feel good, have fun, ect. I see a lot of people who don't wear makeup and i'm happy for them! I didn't wear makeup until i turned 20 i think and felt good.

One thing I wanted to add is in response of post about feminine girls. I think everything needs balance and sometimes people tend to overreact in their opinion and divide everything in black and white. Personally I never cared how women around me looked and what they were wearing. But I would like to have same treatment, and not to feel silly for wearing pink or feminine clothes.

Sorry, I don't know English very well so maybe I can't translate my idea entirely. What I'm trying to say i think everyone should do what they like and leave each other in peace.

Sorry for this essay, just wanted to share my point of view.

Hi, anon! I'm sorry for the delay in getting to this, but I appreciate you writing this (and your English was fine, don't worry)

I think the main argument of those posts (and my own feelings about this) is not about makeup on its own, or even judgement about who does and doesn't choose to wear it--what they are criticizing is a particular part of the society we live in which puts a huge emphasis on women's beauty and appearance in order to fulfill an idea of what a woman "should" be, and the role that makeup plays in that as a result. Because whether we like it or not, whether we believe in them or not, whether we feel pressured by them or not, these expectations do exist. How we personally respond to them does not change that.

I personally don't have an issue with makeup or the concept of it (in almost every culture on earth, humans have been using makeup of some kind for literally thousands of years)--but what I do have a problem with is when we treat makeup, or other traditionally "feminine" forms of expression as neutral things when they are not. A comb or a hair tie is neutral--it's just a thing. Lipstick and eyeliner are also just things, but only when they exist by themselves--and in reality they don't exist by themselves: they exist in a world where we value women on their physical appearance before we value them for anything else--lipstick and eyeliner exist to emphasise parts of your appearance, to make you look a certain way--and in a society where we put so much importance on women looking a certain way, they aren't just ordinary things you toy around with for fun. You can have fun with them, but it doesn't change their role. They can't be treated as exceptions from the world they are used in.

I think sometimes people assume that being anti-makeup is the same as being anti-women-who-wear-makeup, which misses the point (and also suggests a very dangerous idea which I think, sometimes, is why people respond so angrily to these criticisms: because if we believe that being anti-makeup = being anti-women, then therefore makeup = womanhood, and this is simply not true). Whether you wear these things just for fun and to enjoy yourself isn't what is being talked about because these criticisms are not about you on a personal level: they are about looking at a society that is as image-obsessed as ours, and asking why makeup has the role that it has when 1) it is almost exclusively aimed at women--women who, as a group, have been historically marginalised, and whose value, historically, has almost always been measured in terms of their beauty before anything else and 2) the makeup that is emphasized, the trends and styles that come and go, are often not so much about self-expression (if they were, people would be freely wearing all sorts of wild colours and styles: when we talk about "makeup culture" it's not the same kind of makeup used in the goth, punk, or alt scenes for example where makeup plays a very different role) but almost always about achieving or aspiring towards a type of beauty that is valued or expected: to make you look younger, to make your eyes brighter or larger, to make your lips bigger or sexier, your cheekbones more prominent etc--again, on their own, these things may not be a big deal, but they exist in a world where having these looks means you are valued in a certain way as a woman. And when this exists in our kind of world, where the power dynamics we have automatically mean women's perceived power is through beauty, and where we insist so much on women being a particular kind of beautiful (and this starts in childhood) we have to ask and investigate WHY that is--why this type of beauty and not another? why (almost only) women? who benefits from this? who suffers as a result?

The argument of "not all women" wear makeup for empowerment misses the point of these criticism, because it is focusing on a person's individual choices in a way that suggests our choices can define the world we live in, and they can't. We are deeply social animals. Therefore, how we appear to each other and to ourselves is a socially influenced phenomenon. This applies for race, for sexuality, and for gender. How women are perceived at large, in different social structures, is a social phenomenon influenced by the societies we exist in and the values of those societies. These criticisms are about the society we make those choices in and how that can affect us. For you, makeup may be something fun and enjoyable and that's fine. I'm not saying that's untrue or that people don't feel this way or that you are wrong for feeling this way. It's also not saying that you are brain-washed or oppressing yourself for it. But it doesn't change the world we live in. Someone feeling perfectly happy to go out with makeup or without makeup, and feeling no pressure to do either, is great--but it doesn't mean there aren't a lot of women who do feel pressured into wearing it, and that pressure is a social one. It doesn't change the inequality that exists between how women's physical appearances are judged compared to men's. It doesn't change the fact that almost every childhood story most kids hear (that aren't about animals) have a "beautiful princess" (and very little else is said about her except that she is beautiful) and a "brave" knight/prince/king/whichever: the princess (or maiden or whatever young woman) is defined by how she looks; the male in the story by how he acts.

It also doesn't change the fact that so many young girls grow up hearing the women around them criticize various parts of their bodies and that they carry this into their lives. It doesn't change the fact that we expect (in Western countries at least) for women to have criticisms about their appearance and they are "stuck-up" or "full of themselves" if they don't. It doesn't change the fact that magazines photos, red carpet photos, films, tv shows etc., feature actresses who are beautiful in a way that is absolutely above and beyond exceptional (and who either have had work done cosmetically, or are wealthy enough to be able to afford to look the way they do through top-class makeup artists, personal trainers etc) but who we think are within the "normal" range of beauty because faces like theirs are all that we see--how many famous actors / entertainers can you name who look like they could be someone's random uncle, or "just some guy" (writing this, I can think of 5). Now how many actresses, equally famous, can you think of that are the same? Very, very, very few.

The point of those posts, and why I feel so strongly about this, is that we have a deeply skewed view of beauty when it comes to women, because, as a society, we place so much on how they look in such a way that it is not, and was never meant to be, achievable: therefore anything that contributes to how women look, that markets itself in the way that the makeup industry does in this day and age, needs to be questioned and looked at in relation to that. No one is saying don't wear eyeliner or blush--what they are trying to say is that we need to be aware of the kind of world eyeliner and blush exists in, what their particular functions as eyeliner and blush do in the world that they exist in, that we exist in, and how this does impact the view we have on makeup as a result. Your personal enjoyment may be true to you and others, but this doesn't change the role of female beauty in the world because, again, our personal choices don't define the world in this way. Often, it's the other way around. And we cannot deny this fact because, while it may not affect you negatively, it does affect others.

I absolutely agree with you because I don't care how other women around me choose to dress or express themselves, either--that's their freedom to wear what they want and enjoy themselves and I want them to have that freedom. But my view is not the world's view, and it's certainly not the view of a lot of other people, either. I don't care if another woman loves pink and wearing skirts and dresses--but, like makeup, pink, skirts, and dresses, are not neutral things either. They're tied to a particular image of 'femininity' which means they are tied to a particular way of "being a woman" in this world. I'm not saying, at all, that it's wrong to wear these things. But I'm saying we can't treat them as though these are choices as simple as choosing what kind of socks to wear, because they aren't. They are choices that have baggage. If a woman is seen as being silly, childish, or treated unequally because she enjoys cute tops and ribbons and sundresses, that's not because we are demonizing her choices, or because being anti-makeup is being anti-woman (again, it is absolutely not): it's because we as a society demonize women for any choice. That isn't because of anti-makeup stances--that's because of sexism.

You mentioned that you want to be treated the same as anyone else for wearing feminine clothes--but the fear that you wouldn't be isn't because of the discussions critiquing makeup and other traditionally "feminine" things--it's because we live in a society where women are constantly defined by how they appear on the outside, and no amount of our personal choices will make this untrue. Whether you are a girly-girl or a tomboy, you'll always be judged. And, in reality, when women follow certain beauty standards they do get treated better--but this doesn't mean much in a society where the standards are so high you can never reach them, and where the basic regard for women is so low to begin with (not to mention the hypocrisy that exists within those standards). This is what all those criticisms towards makeup and "empowerment" are about: it's about interrogating a society that is built on this kind of logic and asking why we should insist on leaving it as it is when it does so much damage. It's saying that that if we want everyone to truly feel free in how they choose to present themselves we have to go deeper than just defining freedom by these choices on their own, and look at the environment those choices are made in. And that involves some deeply uncomfortable but necessary conversations.

Also, and I think this important to remember, views on makeup and the social place of makeup will also depend on culture and where you are, and the beauty expectations you grew up with. And when it comes to the internet, and given American dominance online, a lot of these posts criticizing makeup and the way makeup is being used to sell an idea that wearing it is "empowering" to the woman (which is basically saying: you are MORE of a woman when you wear it; you are stronger and more powerful because, in our society, beauty is portrayed as a form of power: it tells you, you can battle the inequality women face by embracing the role beauty plays in our lives but it doesn't tell you this emphasis on beauty is part of that inequality), are based on the way makeup is portrayed in mostly English-speaking Western countries. My views are shaped by what I grew up seeing, and while a full face of makeup (concealer, primer, foundation, mascara, highlighter, contour, blush, brow tint, brow gel etc) may not be daily practice or even embraced in a place like France or maybe other places in mainland Europe (but that doesn't mean they don't have their own expectations of feminine beauty), they are daily practice in places like the US and Britain, and this is what most of those posts and criticisms are responding to.

We can argue as much as we want about makeup, but when you grow up in a society where women feel the need to put on makeup before going to the gym there is something seriously wrong. Embracing makeup and enjoying makeup is one thing, but it cannot be a neutral thing when so much of it is about looking like you're not wearing makeup at all, or when we assume a woman is better qualified for a job or more professional when she wears it. It cannot be a neutral thing when a singer like Alicia Keys goes makeup-free for a red carpet event and it causes a stir online because people think she looks sick (what she looks like is normal--I would argue above normal--but wearing makeup to cover up "flaws" is so normal now that we genuinely don't know what normal skin is supposed to look like because the beauty of these celebrities is part of their appeal: they are something to aspire to). It is absolutely very normal for me, where I am, to see young girls with fake lashes and filled in brows: it's not every girl I pass, but it is enough. I'm not saying they are miserable, or brain-washed, or should be judged. I can believe that for them it's something enjoyable--but how am I supposed to see something like that and not be aware of the kind of celebrities and makeup tutorials that are everywhere on TikTok and YouTube, and that they are seeing everyday? How am I not supposed to have doubts when people tell me "it's their choice!" when the choices being offered are so limited and focused on one thing?

I never wore makeup as a teenager and I still don't, but a lot of that is because I grew up surrounded by people who just didn't. Makeup was never portrayed as anything bad or forbidden (and I don't see it like that either)--it was just this thing that, for me growing up, was never made to be a necessity not even for special occasions. I saw airbrushed photos and magazines all around me, for sure, and I definitely felt the beauty pressure and the body pressure (for example, I definitely felt my confidence would be better if I wore concealer to deal with my uneven skintone, and I felt this for years). But I also know that, growing up, I saw both sides. No makeup was the default I saw at home, while makeup was the default I saw outside. And that does play a part, not just in the choices you make, but in the choices that you feel you are allowed to make. No makeup was an option for me because it was what I saw everyday, even with my own insecurities; but if you do not see that as an option around you (and I know for most girls my age, where I grew up, it probably wasn't) then how can we fully argue that the decision you make is a real choice?

If I wanted to wear a cute skirt outside, for example, and decided to shave my legs--that isn't a real choice. And it cannot ever be a real choice, no matter how much I say "this is for me" or "I prefer it like this" because going out in public with hairy legs and going out in public with shaved legs will cause two completely different reactions. How can I separate what I think is "my choice" from a choice I make because I want to avoid the negative looks and comments? And how can I argue that choosing to shave is a freely made choice when the alternative has such negativity? If you feel pressured into choosing one thing over another, that's not a choice. Does this make sense?

This is how I feel about makeup most of the time, and what I want more than anything else is for us to be able to have a conversation about why we make the choices we do beyond saying "it makes me feel good" and ending the conversation there. Again, I'm not saying people need to stop wearing makeup or stop finding enjoyment in wearing it, but I think we tend to get so focused on our own feelings about this and forget that there is a bigger picture and this picture is a deeply unequal one. That is what this conversation is about. I hope this explains some things, anon, and if I misinterpreted anything please feel free to message me again. x

[gin-juice-tonic]

convinced that you were somehow secretly alive in the 60s/70s. what sort of secret historical resources and/or time machines are you using to expand your knowledge of decades past

Ha ha, I dont feel I do a particularly great job, but I always find myself getting into googling sprees when I just wanted to post about something simple. I'm always checking if x thing was invented yet, or popularized yet, and I end up learning a lot of new things... So I would say the best way to expand your knowledge is to ask a question about One thing, and let the research take you around in circles to answers you didnt ask for.

I talked more under here but it got long. Im putting it under a read more and bolding key words like an ace attorney game.

As for specific resources I've looked at... hm... I've gone through a lot of the old sears catalogs. There's websites out there that have ones dating all the way back from 1940 to 2017. That can give you ideas about (some) styles of clothes and furniture popular at the time. There's also websites dedicated to explaining certain decades of american fashion. Sometimes I read old popular science magazines, mainly because google books has every single one of them archived and available to read for free...

Youtube has a lot of videos of old advertisements, those are good ways to both get into some pop culture and see societal attitudes. I've watched a lot of infomercials and employee training videos for stan in particular lol. If you have specific places you want to know about you can search for videos of them. Tourism videos work well if its a famous area, if not some people upload their home movies onto youtube as well.

If you really want to, you can read books (or skim books) that were written, or had been popular to read around the time. Or advice/guide books for specific occupations. Biographies of people of different ages are great as well to learn about what life was like more in a daily way...

This is long, so I'm just going to list some things now. Blogs dedicated to histories of certain things (music, sports, gay history, 5 string banjos, columbo, whatever!), TV shows and Movies from the time period you were interested in, old comics, redditors who want to post old photos of their favorite old hangouts, and lastly, you could also just talk to older people. I've bothered my parents asking about disco, I've bothered asking my grandma about pads in the 1950s. Most people like to reminisce or complain about things from their youth lol...

oh. And I almost forgot. I've used Cassell's Dictionary of Slang a few times. Usually just to check if a phrase that I want to use existed yet. But then in the course of my search I end up finding something I think is funny

[bengiyo]

I Feel You Linger in the Air Ep 12 (Finale) Stray Thoughts

Last week, Jom told Yai the truth about his origins and his suspicion that he's about to vanish. Yai didn't want to lose Jom and did everything he could, from asking a monk to reading H.G. Wells instead of having sex with Jom. They held a farewell and thanks party for their friends that felt a lot like an AIDS announcement party to me. Jom wrote a letter to the future and asked Yai to pass it down through his descendants. Nonkul and Bright delivered last week with incredibly heartfelt performances of two people trying to make the most of the time they have and not mourn. Meanwhile, Fong Kaew put Euangphueng in touch with someone to help her abort the child, and Maey struggled with the potential spiritual fallout of that.

Oh lord, Jom and Yai are burying a body.

Oh, nevermind. Yai is following his instincts related to Jom.

If they buried a ring in the past, did they not know about the time jump? I would have sent instructions. Come to think of it, Jom should have written a letter to himself!

Oh it's Mustache Yai again! What a fascinating sense memory. How is Jom remembering moments from the past that occur in his future?

Aw, it was a dream.

"You take a little stick, you dig a little hole...and you have a little fun."

It always looks hot as hell in Thailand.

I like this send off scene for Euangphueng and Maey.

Yai covered the mirrors. I love that.

Jom's smile when Khamsaen asks him if he could just move on from love is perfect.

Oh, poor Yai. He definitely thought Jom vanished.

The choreography for their intimate scenes is so good and so tasteful. This feels like gay sex even if we don't see it. There's so much intent and silent communication here. Doing a montage over their heavy breathing was a great choice.

We let them make love. Time for the drama.

Having Jom disappear while he was doing the portrait is so much. Come on.

This extended goodbye is making me ache.

Well that was so sad.

Mustache Yai and Jom's original clothes are back.

WHO IS THIS SCUBA DIVER? ARE WE RESCUING JOM FROM THE CRASH?

Oh lord we're back to the present and just walking around unbothered.

Now Ohm and Baby Mama are here! We hadn't been in the present day drama for very long, and this is actually fairly reasonable behavior considering all that happened.

Oh good, Jom remembers.

Look at that, Jom is eating crepes and his sister is coming out. It's a good day.

Fascinated by the implications of the ceremony and all the reincarnated people being in Jom's life. Please show us the woman who owns the house.

Feeling very emotional about all of these mementos being saved for Jom for a century.

Wow, this letter. Incredible historical significance.

Whoa. How is Yai here?

Wait, how are we ending here??

Now why is Jom in the goddamn woods again?

I'm so glad we got a second season confirmation because I would be so annoyed being left in limbo.

Final Verdict: 9, This Show Was Worth The Hype. I have some qualms with some of the pacing of various beats and how effectively the expanded roles of the side cast worked out in the show relative to what was clearly a story focused on a romance, but I think this show took me to places in queer history I hadn't specifically thought about in a way that made me hungry to know more. I really appreciate Nonkul and Bright so much because Tee is at his best with strong performers who work really well together. This show held for its first half, but I find myself frustrated for Jom that we still have no idea how or why any of this is happening to him, and I think it's really sad that he keeps losing his loves. This is one of my favorite productions of the year, and yet I feel like I want some distance from it for a while now that it's over.

[sanjoongie]

Library of Illusion~ Sci Fi Section

Chrome Upgrade

📚Part Three for the Library Of Illusions Event

📚Pairing: Fixer! Yunho x Merc! Reader (f)

📚Genre: Fantasy au, Sci-fi au, Cyberpunk 2077 inspired, sleeping with the boss trope

📚Warnings: fighting, cybernetic enhancements, slapping, nipple play, yunho is horny over some knife play, mommy(reader)/little one(yunho) dynamics, penetrative sex with no barrier, creampie(s), oral (f receiving), cum eating, dacryphilia

📚Word Count: 3,809

📚Rating: 18+ MDNI, smut

📚Summary: the scifi section transports you to a cyberpunk world in which you are merc for hire with many upgrades and your boss, or fixer, pays you with chrome instead of eddie’s (eurodollar)

📚Dedication: @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland the best beta readers a writer could bribe have

↫The Fantasy Section ↭ MasterList ↭The Historical Fiction Section↬

You moved back and forth in front of a particular bookshelf but you had this feeling like you were missing it. You tipped your head back and you felt a zap of electricity when your eyes locked onto a bright yellow book with the title "Cyberpunk 2077" in sharp black lettering. You lifted onto your tippy toes, fingertips tingling as you managed to hook the book and bring it down into your waiting hands.

You opened it, and watched expectantly as the book flew out of your hands, landing upright with its pages flipping open, until it halted and grew to the size of a door. The center for the book was transparent, and within you could see a dark alleyway, filled with trash and lit up by bright lights. 

The hair on the back of your neck raised and you felt yourself getting real damn annoyed at this entity that was watching you. "You know, you could just reveal yourself before I meet you in this damn book!" You couldn't help but shout in frustration. 

It had to be the guardian of this section, right? Clearly they were both present in the books and in the library. "Or are you worried that I might reject you before you can weave a story to suck me into?"

You might as well be shouting into the void. Or so you thought. The shelves began to shiver and shake and a rush of wind rushed past you, blowing your hair behind you like you were in a wind tunnel. The fuck was that? Alright, maybe you shouldn't be provoking demons.

You decided now was a good time to walk through the portal.

You stood in the middle of an alleyway, neon lights blinking obnoxiously above you. In your hand was a chip and everything in your mind was telling you to put it inside of you. You felt behind your ear and gasped when your finger found a rectangle hole there. The chip slipped in easily and your eyes lit up as you processed the information on the chip. 

You were a mercenary for hire. Your fixer, or guy that hooked you up with jobs, was Yunho. You two had worked together pretty steadily but only after you had begged him to give you jobs. You had a gun and an itch to scratch back then. You had worked with a few crews here and there, maybe a partner, but ultimately no one could keep up with your thirst to prove yourself, to really make your name a legend. 

Now you had so many cybernetic enhancements you lost count. Circulatory system upgrades for your hacking. You had traded out your eyes a long time ago for easier targeting and to make them a pretty purple jeweled color. But your crown jewel were the blades that were implanted and replaced your arms. The blades stayed hidden and folded and you had full use of your 'hands', but the Mantis blades had been the best improvement you had invested in, surely.

A screen popped up in your peripherals and a faint ringing could be heard in your ear. The square said Your Fixer Yuyu was calling you. "I got the deets, Yunho, what's up?" You answered. 

"Another gonk got themselves snatched for cybernetics and organs," Yunho replied.

"Yeah, I got that already, what do you want?" You snapped.

You admired your clothes in this world: you were wearing skin tight pleather pants with cutouts at the hips, a bikini top and a large baggy jacket. You had an undercut on the side where you had slipped in your chip, but your hair fell in waves on your right side. Definitely the cyberpunk look.

"That same gonk left their bike outside the place where they had been sent to rescue the last guy," Yunho informed you. You winced. Oops. "Don't worry, choom, I got you. I called your bike away to park a few blocks. Just thought I'd let you know when you run out of there."

"Thanks."

"Orchid?" You fucking loved your merc name. The first upgrade you got as a merc were Mantis blades but insisted on a soft pink color. So they named you after a pretty Orchid Mantis. You were kinda proud of that, actually. 

"Yeah?" You answered.

"Come see me after this job, 'kay? I've got something to run past you."

"Got it, Yunho."

You ended the comms and cracked your neck. Time to cut up some idiot bodysnatchers.

You snuck into the building where your target was located. She was in an ice bath to keep her body chill. You checked for vital signs and luckily the damn gonk wasn't dead. Yet. That's when you allowed yourself to kill every damn bodysnatcher in the place, with no mercy. Who thought it was a good life choice to kidnap innocent people and steal their cybernetics off their corpses? You were a bit blood splattered afterwards but the trauma team came for your target once you booted up their biomon and you were already gone by then.

You jogged for a block, shrugging on your jacket and then you called in your bike. You didn't bother to check in with Yunho, you simply set his headquarters location to your GPS and headed there full throttle. You weren't sure what you prefered more: slashing people up with your Mantis blades or riding the road with your bike. Either one provided amazing adrenaline.  

You pulled up to the noodle shop and parked your bike in the front. The staff didn't even blink as you walked through the front and into the kitchen of the shop. You stopped in front of the deep freeze and the square of tiles before it blinked before popping open. You slid down the ladder and a cold nuzzle of a gun was pressed against the nape of your neck.

"Jesus, do you have to do that every damn time? It's Orchid, for christ sake. Let her in." Yunho yelled at his guard. 

You stuck your tongue out at the guard and he pulled his gun to holster it. You walked towards the glass box that was Yunho's office. The door snapped behind you with a whoosh. The glass tinted so that no one could see inside. Interesting.

"What's up, choom?" You said, not showing a hint of your worries. You planted your ass on the crescent shaped couch and crossed your hands behind your back.

Yunho approached the low coffee table in front of you. His broad shoulders filled out his orange and black leather jacket well. “When did you get the new ink?” Yunho motioned with his chin.

You looked down and saw a dragon on your hip. Odd. When did that get there? It didn’t fit the genre at all, it was a dragon from an old fairy tale novel illustration. Did you have another tattoo? Upon further inspection, you also had a switchblade on your shoulder. Both were clearly souvenirs from Yeosang and Wooyoung but… why? It couldn't be that they simply wanted you to remember them by tattoos you had not agreed upon. You figured you’d ask Seonghwa when you got back.

To answer Yunho though, you shrugged. “I gotta pass it by Daddy first?”

Yunho’s eyes darkened and narrowed them at you. “Are you giving me lip, little girl?”

You scoffed at the term. “A little girl that could slice you in half maybe.”

Yunho strode around the table, brought back his hand and slapped you, one of his rings scratching your chin as it hit. “Bitch? Are you saying you could take me on?”

"Yunho, Yunho, Yunho," You shook your head. "There's a reason you keep calling me to do all your dirty work. Because I get shit done."

"I give you the dirty work jobs because you're trash," Yunho corrected you.

You smiled and it was dangerous. "Careful. Those are fighting words."

"Not fighting words if they're true."

Your Sandevistan, the operating system that allowed you to move faster than the human eye could observe, kicked in and within milliseconds, you were on top of Yunho on the floor, your Mantis Blade at Yunho's neck. "I may be trash but I could still kill you, Yuyu," You crooned perilously. 

Yunho swallowed but even that motion put his adam's apple in danger, flirting with your blade. "You didn't tell me you got a Sandevistan."

"I don't tell my fixer everything in case he wants to take advantage of me." Your free hand started to absentmindedly play with the chains around his neck. "Now, how are you going to repay me for this?"

"This?" Yunho squeaked.

You clicked your tongue in annoyance. "I charge for my services; had to use my Sandevistan to show you who's really boss, didn't I? How much to let you go free too?"

Yunho scowled. "I don't--"

You ran the tip of your blade along Yunho’s face, the threat there. Yunho whimpered and you cackled. "Big talk for a big man-" You moved your body back and your lower half encountered something long blocking your way.

You cocked an eyebrow at him. "Yunho--"

"Don't," he said in a clipped tone. "Just pretend you didn't--"

You grinned evilly. "Your price just went up."

"Orchid, listen." Yunho was starting to sweat. "We have a decent work relationship. I'd like to keep it that way. Can't we just forgive the insults?"

"Or…" You slowly reclined your Mantis Blade built into your arm, folding it back in place. "...you could repay me in a different way. Do you have a Mr. Studd upgrade?"

Yunho's ears began to get red. "...yes."

"Give me an hour of your time, I think that would make us even."

Yunho looked so confused it was borderline adorable. “You… you sure?”

“Whatever you would have paid me as compensation would have gone towards some time at a dollhouse anyways, so why not, Yuyu?” You chirped.

Yunho nodded curtly. “Done.”

The Mr. Studd upgrade you were talking about was essentially an upgrade/sexual organ replacement. It ensured that the one using the upgrade lasted for hours, which is why it was standardly an upgrade a Doll, or whore, had. Why Yunho had it, you didn’t know, but you didn’t care at this point. It also meant that his dick was chrome colored, which was a bonus. 

You remained straddling Yunho on the floor but Yunho sat up, his upper body now vertical, holding himself up by his arms, palms flat on the concrete floor. You were cradling his head to your chest as he sucked on your tits. His eyes had widened upon seeing your nipples had been replaced with a cosmetic upgrade, making them a sea-foam green color. You continued to dominate your boss, having discovered that he also had a Mommy kink.

You couldn't help but coo at Yunho some more, his eyes were big as his lips were wrapped around your nipple. “That’s a good baby, sucking Mommy’s tits just the way she likes it.” Yunho whined against your breast. “Does my little one have something to say?”

Yunho popped off your nipple, leaving a string of saliva connecting from his tongue to your nipple. “Orch--Mommy.” You waited patiently for Yunho to say what he wanted to say. “Can I have your cunt now?”

If Yunho absolutely drooling over your tits wasn’t enough to make you sopping wet, that sentence certainly did the trick. “Do you think you earned it, little one?”

Yunho nodded quickly. “Please, can I have Mommy’s pretty pink cunt now?”

You sighed dramatically. “I guess you deserve it for sucking on Mommy’s titties so well.”

Yunho let out a comfortable sigh once you sunk down on his chrome dick. “Mommy feels so good around me.”

“Yeah, does Mommy squeeze you just right, Baby?” You started to move up and down his cock, making sure to clench when you had just the head of his dick inside of you and then pushed him back inside again.

Yunho moaned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. You had no idea the straight faced, extremely tall fixer was such a sucker to be a sub for someone. You might have offered it earlier had you known. “More, please, Mommy, more!”

It’s not long before you have Yunho creaming between your thighs. He comes with a gruff cry but you hadn't found your high yet. But thanks to his Mr. Studd upgrade, that wasn’t a problem. You continued to fuck yourself on Yunho’s chrome dick, even after Yunho’s long drawn out moan faded from his lips. 

“Be a good baby and play with Mommy’s clit, hmm?” You encouraged him. You leaned back, hands on Yunho’s thighs to brace yourself, and started to fuck him that way. 

Yunho’s lips puckered like he wanted your tits back in his mouth but his eyes were on your clit. “Wanna suck on Mommy’s pretty clit, please,” He whined.

“Here, Baby.” You grabbed one of Yunho’s hands, which were large for a fixer’s, and sucked on his thumb, gathering your saliva along the digit before guiding Yunho to rub his thumb mercilessly along your swollen clit. “Right there, just like that,” You hissed, “You can suck Mommy’s clit another time, maybe when you’ve been a bad little one.”

“You’d sit on my face? Please?” Yunho looked eager and cute all over again.

You cupped Yunho’s face so that his cheeks were pushed together. “Stop being so cute and focus on the here and now, Yuyu.”

Yunho frowned, fucking up into your pussy with his chrome dick and flicked your clit until you came with a loud shout, thighs shuddering as your orgasm ripped through you. You panted and waited for your cunt to stop fluttering around Yunho and then asked him how long before he could go for his second round.

The second round included you degrading Yunho, as per his request. The harsher you were, the more he throbbed inside of you. He cried fat tears for you when he came the second time, proving to his Mommy that his dick was good enough and big enough to come inside a second time. You licked away his tears, having come only moments before him.

The third round you found that Yunho liked his nipples played with, to the point of overstimulation, to which he buried himself deep inside of you to come, nudging your uterus and making you come just as hard. By then, the two of you were clinging to each other, sweaty and exhausted but plenty satisfied. The only problem now was…

“What are we going to do with all this sticky cum, little one?” You mused, looking down at your pussy, which had his cum literally dripping out of you.

“Le-leave it there?” Yunho stuttered, his ears heating up again.

You cocked your head curiously at Yunho. “But Mommy wants to clean up, baby.”

“I…” Yunho opened his mouth and then closed it.

“Yuyu, after what we just did, there isn’t much to be embarrassed about,” You brought up.

Yuyu nodded his head but couldn't meet your eyes. “It’s dirty though.”

That made your proverbial ears perk up. “What’s dirty?”

“I want to eat my cum from your pussy, Mommy.”

"You're awfully greedy for my cunt, Yuyu," You couldn't help but tease him.

Yunho pouted. "Please. Mommy."

"I think you're past your hour," You mentioned.

Yunho clung to you harder. "I…I need this. Please."

Whatever constant state of control fixer Yunho was in, this seemed to be his safe place to let loose. You yourself had felt the tension leave his body, as he came and came and came inside of you. Perhaps you could come to some type of arrangement after the jobs he set you up on…

"Okay, baby, you can clean up my cunt with your tongue," You agreed, "But it's going to cost you."

Yunho was nodding, lifting you off his cock already, fully capable of setting you down on the ground and wrapping his arms around your thighs. "Thank you, Mommy," he said, almost like thanking you for his meal.

When Yunho's guard walked in to say that he had a visitor, Yunho was so pussy drunk that he never even responded. You looked at the guard, upside down with your head cast back because Yunho was working your cunt with his tongue quite well and said, "He's busy."

You couldn't believe when Yunho coaxed your fourth orgasm from your body but when your body stopped shuddering and you looked at your fixer between your legs, it was clear that this was exactly what Yunho should be doing for you.

Wait--

Shouldn't Yunho be giving you… something else?

Yunho smiled at you, his chin and cheeks covered in a mixture of his saliva, his cum and yours and you felt your brain stutter. "I did good, Mommy?"

"Course, Baby, you did brilliantly." You ruffled Yunho's hair.

"Maybe…maybe you could stay the night? I don't have anymore jobs for you and I--"

Whatever else Yunho was saying faded out as your brain once again attempted to tell you that you couldn't stay the night. You had somewhere to go. Did you, though? Couldn't you just stay here with Yunho?

"Orchid? Are you okay? Do you need a stim? I've got a few around here."

You watched as Yunho looked around his room, his leather jacket hanging off one arm absentmindedly. He really did look like a lost boy.

Wasn't he just like the others? The others?

You shook your head and rubbed your eyes. What the fuck was going on?

"Yun…I think someone is hacking me. I feel--weird."

Yunho stopped looking for the stims and sighed. "I almost thought I had you there."

The air tensed, warping and stretching and suddenly it snapped and you were back in the Science Fiction Section. Yunho had an arm already stretched out to pull his book out. Inside was a chip, the same that you had put into your slot in the book to absorb the information of the cyberpunk world and your job. 

Gone were Yunho's mixture of neon and baggy cyberpunk clothes. Instead, he was in a black button down, tight black pants, with a shoulder rig and a thigh harness. "Would it have been so bad to stay with me?"

You pursed your lips. "Yes, actually. I have someone else waiting for me."

Yunho, baby boy Yunho, was peeking out. "What's he going to say when he finds out you've fucked all us demons to get to him?"

Your dead lover's curling grin flashed through your mind and you felt your heart contract in pain. "He'd probably say he missed out on all the fun."

"I'll only give this to you if you give me a goodbye kiss, Mommy," Yunho said with a sneaky grin.

You rolled your eyes. "A bit demanding for a baby boy, aren't you?" You couldn't help but slip back into that role for a second. 

"What's one more kiss?" Yunho still challenged you.

You sighed and got up from the floor. You stretched up on your tippy toes and place a kiss on Yunho's lips. He sighed happily against your lips and slipped the chip key into your hands. "Miss me a little, okay, Mommy?"

Your head felt fuzzy from the mindfuck you were currently going through. Surely living so many lives so quickly wasn't healthy for you. Were you even going to make it through this? No, you couldn't think that way. You had only one purpose in your life now, and that was to bring your dead lover back with the use of the artifact. If you didn't have that, you had nothing. 

Seonghwa was humming under his breath and swaying in his chair when you approached the desk this time. He brightened slightly upon seeing you walk up to his desk. "Have something for me?"

You frowned at him. "Excuse me? Who are you and what have you done with the Keeper of the Keys?"

Seonghwa's smile widened. Did he… did he like when you talked down to him? "I talked with Yeosang. Seems like you've been treating us quite well, actually."

"Actually?" You raised an eyebrow at him.

Seonghwa's face turned stormy. "Not all travelers do their best to play the game. Most demand we simply give the keys to them. Hence my--" Seonghwa cleared his throat, "--my bad attitude towards your kind. We are simply demons doing our job, after all."

"Well, you've got me there, I guess. You guys are just cogs in the machine too, huh?"

Seonghwa looked at you eagerly. "Where did you go this time? What do you have for me?"

It was still a little weird that Seonghwa was now eager to see you but you handed him the chip key nonetheless. "Yunho."

Seonghwa's eyes began to have a shaky quality to them, almost like he was nervous. "Did you, uh, have any trouble with Yunho?" He scurried behind his desk and added your third key to your collection in the display case.

"Actually!" You inspected your body and not only found the dragon and switchblade tattoo but a new one was on your body now, after Yunho. You could feel the raised edges on your neck, near your chin. "Do I have something here?"

Seonghwa titled his head to look at where you pointed. "Is that a motorbike?"

"Interesting…" You began to nibble on your thumbnail. You only knew about getting the keys from the guardians, what was this tattoo thing about? "Do you know anything about these tattoos?"

Seonghwa rubbed the back of his neck. "You didn't come in with those?"

Was Yunho hinting towards something earlier? Did the demons not know anything beyond their jobs? What truly was this place?

You were halfway through your haul of keys. You only had three more to go but that didn't make you feel any more confident. You thought perhaps as you progressed, you would have a better understanding of this whole ordeal but as it turned out, you were getting more questions than answers. 

"Don't miss me while I'm gone, Seonghwa," You joked, "Maybe have some cookies when I come back. Chocolate chip is fine."

You left Seonghwa whining about getting his hands on freshly baked cookies and perused the sections that were left. A lilting song played by an instrument long forgotten poured from the section you had stopped at and your shoe sunk through a pile of sand. The sign above your head was made of stone and runes crossed over it. You blinked and the hieroglyphics quickly translated to the History Section. You had several times in history you loved but nothing came close to your obsession with Egypt. Maybe you'd be in luck and forge your own fate this time.

Tag list: @yoonguurt  @hijirikaww  @flowerboykun  @starillusion13  @flurrys-creativity  @kitten4sannie  @a-soft-hornytiny

Library staff: @kwanisms  @smallfrye  @anyamaris  @stardragongalaxy  @kpop-stories-21

↫The Fantasy Section ↭ MasterList ↭ The History Section↬