#white new era cap

[fi-sneakerboy]

[freshthoughts2020]

[chromet]

Off-White × New Era × MLB "LA" cap

[ddejavvu]

grumpy beefy mando falling for soft!reader in her “grandma era” - all she wants to do is crochet, bake and frolic around the galaxy with mando and grogu 🫶🏽

"He doesn't like hats."

You glance up at Din from where you're testing a length of crocheted stitches beneath Grogu's chin, ensuring that the hat inspired by the local flora of the forest planet you've found shelter on won't fall off if he gets too rigorous in his play.

Grogu coos beneath the flower hat, but whether it's in agreement or protest you can't tell.

"He likes this one," You decide, when the little green terror before you doesn't fight as you maneuver his ears through their designated slots, "And he doesn't have to wear it if he doesn't want to."

Your fingers slip the little white button through the slot you've left in the band, and the hat is secured around Grogu's chin; the cutest little flower you ever did see.

"Oh, honey," You gush, scooping the child up and tucking him into your arms, "You wanna see your hat? C'mere, let's look."

You crouch in front of the tree stump that Din has settled on, holding Grogu up to the man's beskar chest plate. It's freshly polished, but not completely reflective, so at the right angle, Grogu catches a blurry, slightly distorted version of himself in a very pink hat.

His legs are still too small to kick in excitement, but his arms pick up the slack, flapping about while copious amounts of baby babble streams from his mouth. Evidently he's pleased with your handiwork.

Din stays silent while he offers his armor up for Grogu's viewing pleasure, but the child's hands soon find the soft strap beneath his chin and tug.

"I told you he didn't like hats..." Din murmurs, not to be cruel, but to fill empty space in the air when your shoulders deflate slightly.

"I thought he'd like it if it was softer," You hum sadly, helping Grogu take the button out of its clasp so that he can tug the hat off of his head, "I just figured he didn't like the helmet you gave him because it was uncomfortable."

As soon as you've freed Grogu from the confines of his flowery prison his hands slap against the shiny metal of Din's armor. He takes the child out of your hands but Grogu keeps his hat tightly clutched in his fist, and, with valiant effort, pushes the hat into Din's helmet, insistently cooing something that sounds suspiciously like buir.

Your giddiness returns, and you circle Din like a hawk, "Oh, you want your buir to wear it? Let's see," Amidst Din's protests you balance the too-small cap on his helmet, and he stills if only to save the hat from slipping and dying a muddy death on the ground below.

"It doesn't fit me." He grumbles, body stiff as he keeps it balanced on his head. Grogu seems pleased with his buir's new headpiece, squealing and showing off his newly-emerged teeth in a grin.

"I'll make you a matching one!" You declare, snatching the hat off of his helmet to give him the freedom of movement again, "Grogu, baby, what color should Din's be?"

"Bah!" Grogu decides, and your steps still where you're racing back towards your shelter.

"Uh... how about purple?" You suggest, and another resounding 'Bah.' is all the encouragement you need.

[jelloooverse]

in my yhk stupid era

[ID: An Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint comic. Kim Dokja says curiously, "I wonder how Lee Seolhwa and Yoo Joonghyuk are doing..." and Shin Yoosung perks up and exclaims, "Ah!" She pulls out her phone to show a picture of Seolhwa smiling and holding hands with a blank figure labeled Y/N and exclaims, "Ahjusshi! I heard that Seolhwa unnie is dating someone! they went on vacation. "I don’t know about Joonghyuk ahjusshi though...)"

Dokja, a shadow stretching from him, says, "Oh. I see." Behind him is a collage of imagined Dokjas looking despairing over a broken heart containing a smiling Joonghyuk and Seolhwa, overlaid with the all-caps text "OTP is dead?"

Shin Yoosung cheerily waves, "Bye ahjussi!" and Dokja pensively contemplates, "..but if Yoo Joonghyuk isn't with Lee Seolhwa then..." He imagines Joonghyuk surrounded by sparkles and with his chest bared and thinks, "Maybe his personality could use some work.. But with his looks he'd be dating someone by now, right..?"

He then looks with surprise over a corner to encounter a sparkle-surrounded scene of Joonghyuk and Han Sooyoung with their heads leaned together. Joonghyuk looks down at Sooyoung soulfully while she laughs with a hand on his chest. Dokja hides behind the wall and wonders with shock, "With... HAN SOOYOUNG?!" Behind him, the real Joonghyuk and Sooyoung are arguing, looking annoyed and aggravated.

Dokja, sweating, goes, "No, that's... hard to imagine working out.." and envisions Sooyoung crossing her arms and exclaiming "Yoo Joonghyuk! You're an annoying prick!" plus Joonghyuk glaring "Han Sooyoung. You are intolerable." to equal cartoony versions of them being "lovey dovey" and sharing a censored kiss. A cartoony, flustered Dokja waves the thought away.

Then he looks back and thinks, "Well, if they're happy then.. I'll be a little lenient on our company's no dating policy..." He later walks in behind them to catch Sooyoung saying, "Blah blah that's fucking dumb. Right, Kim Dokja?" Dokja, looking disinterested, replies, "ugh, leave me out of your lover's quarrel."

Sooyoung turns to him with incredulous disbelief and raises a middle finger. "Shut the hell up??" Dokja grins, laughs, and returns her middle finger while Joonghyuk emits a question mark.

Then Dokja looks at his phone before beginning to grin increasingly obnoxiously as he says, "Should I leave you two alone this time, haha. Am I your guys' third wheel again? It's okay, I don't wanna get between you two! (Get a room alreadyy.)"

Sooyoung and Joonghyuk look at each other silently, Sooyoung looking bewildered and exasperated and Joonghyuk with his eyes coolly raised. Sooyoung runs a hand through her hair and says, "..Kim Dokja, did you develop a new strain of idiot?" Joonghyuk, looking put-upon, says, "A common case for him." Dokja looks offended before they both move around him, and Dokja goes "What-" as Sooyoung takes hold of his coat.

Sooyoung kisses Dokja on the cheek, leaving him blank with shock. Joonghyuk takes Dokja's chin to kiss his other cheek. Dokja is left standing small and comically stunned against a white backdrop.

The last panel simply shows icons of their heads. Sooyoung asks, "Hey, can we just order chicken for dinner this time?" and Joonghyuk frowns, "No. I already prepared for tonights dinner." Sooyoung shouts an incoherent "UGHGGH" of frustration. Dokja still looks shellshocked. End ID]

[needle-thread-thimble-spear]

I find the cultural phenomena of the maid as opposed to its direct descendant (the generalized domestic laborer) to be really interesting, particularly in the transfeminine sphere. This post is gonna be kinda rambly and not have much a point and involve discussion of kink topics, abusive relationships, transmisogyny, colonial violence and its consequences, etc so heads up for that but anyway.

Starting with the regency/early victorian era Europe, there's this gradual development of a complex household structure among the upper classes, which caps out in the late victorian/edwardian era. This environment forges the "prototypical" idea we have of the maid, whom you'll see in period pieces and historical fiction. She might have worn a (modest!) black and white outfit, she might not have. If her employer is relatively poor she may supply her own clothes. Regardless though, she's a servant for someone wealthy enough to keep her on. Her employer might have inherited their wealth, or found success in a relatively new and burgeoning capitalism, but they were definitely a member of one of the upper classes. She might come from a working class family, or depending on her role, from the petty bourgeois/lesser nobility (it wasn't uncommon for a young lady to have a "companion", often poorer relative with no prospects of her own). It's interesting (though in hindsight not particularly surprising) how the space from where some women might become maids, wasn't very far away from the space where a family might keep on 1-3 people on staff (if you'd like to read more on this, Emily Post's original etiquette, written in 1922 is available for free on Project Gutenberg. Its a really interesting text, here's a summary of the maid section I wrote).

Anyway. Its around the height of this period that the "french maid" is codified. Apparently (my research on this isn't the most extensive I'll freely admit) it wasn't uncommon then for the english upper classes to hire maids from France. Wealthy men became quickly fascinated with them, and before long the french maid is a staple in the erotic material of the age. My understanding is that this is how the black-and-white stereotypical maid dress entered the public consciousness, since that was common at the time (indeed, other time periods and places had different standards for uniforms!) and is what the french maid in life would have worn.

After the world wars, the social landscape of wealthy people changed, the concept of the "middle class" crystalized, and a number of household appliances changed the nature of housework quite drastically. Most of the families that would have been considered middle class a few generations earlier stopped keeping on a "maid of all things". Very wealthy households would hire fewer members of staff, or simply stop hiring a permanent staff altogether. From then on, it would be the role of the housewife to do the domestic labor, or otherwise one keeps on a cleaner or a cleaning service who comes around every once a while. Eventually we enter the modern understanding of domestic labor, where live-in servants are rare and when they do exist they are often supplemented by cleaning services with no allegiance to any one household.

Meanwhile, the french maid continues along as a stock character, not just in explicitly erotic material but comedies and even historical/speculative fiction (and thus quite removed from her possibly more apt "prototypical" counterpart, see most anime/manga maids and "butlers"). At this point she may or may not bother with being french, and she may or may not bother with any domestic labor. The maid outfit (later costume) ends up as a stereotypical, almost trite set of clothing for sexual roleplay. It's in this environment that some early culture of "sissy" or "forcefem" kink latched onto the french maid. Since that avenue of kink focuses on feminization as humiliation, the positioning of the sub as a domestic servant for the (petty) nobility (which to be frank, is a pretty humiliating role all on its own, speaking from experience) dovetails into the whole shtick quite neatly.

Others more clever (and more concise...) than I am have written about how what makes forcefem hot is the transmisogyny. The transfemme is set up to hate herself, to self destruct, to feel shame and self-disgust, to feel terrified of herself, for what she is. I'm not gonna bother spelling out the connection here. A lot of transfemmes (even if they are terrified of it and try to avoid it like I did) find their way into that space pretransition. Or if they don't, they certainly become aware of it after they begin! And then we get all this response within our own culture. We reclaim "forcefem" as a term, maids become a common motif in the form of dolls in empty spaces type literature, but that undercurrent of internalized misogyny and shame still sits there I think. Don't mistake me, this isn't some sort of sex negative tirade against maidkink (that'd be a hypocrisy anyhow!) Rather I'd like to make the argument that we're frequently reclaiming something traumatic through it, even if we don't quite realize it. As transfemmes we often self efface when it comes to (trans)misogyny I think. It's easy for us to say we had an easy ride or that it wasn't so bad. But even so, ask yourself, would you be interested in maids so much if you weren't really badly hurt?

I want to end this going back to domestic labor. It has hardly been my career to this point. In fact, I've only spent a few months of my life as a housecleaner, several years ago before I transitioned. Those also happened to be some of the most grueling and torturous months of my life. A lot went wrong that summer. The work was physically demanding and the hours were long. It was one of my first experiences really working and I felt very loyal to my boss, whom I had a tangential personal relationship toward. I was alright at the work but I did it slowly, putting me behind my quotas. But the worst of it was the cementing of the unhealthy relationship I had with my ex into an abusive one. I won't bore you with the details, and beside they're torturous to relive. I'm afraid you'll have to take my word for it, I don't think I've felt so much shame and fear so intensely and for so long a duration since then. A screening of Silence of the Lambs was involved. What we've been through, what we've been subjected to, frequently leaves us pliable doormats, eager to please and easily abused. Many are eager to use us for that, and few things can feel so good as kind words from an abuser. If you're like me, maids are a lot about those feelings. The (trans)misogyny we undergo is a real phenomena. Maids for me is an acknowledgement of that.

Post Script: I think it's important to acknowledge how the history of domestic labor has been shaped by racial violence as well as (trans)misogynistic violence. In the United States, the prototypical maid could be white or black to suite the tastes of the employer. In northern culture, the maid was generally whiter than snow, because she was presumed to be better than her counterparts, thought to be less likely to steal and better mannered. That's what made the northern lady comfortable. In the south, the maid (who was often, maybe almost always black I'll have to do more research) was either enslaved or had ancestors who had been recently. Domestic staff being black was part of the mechanism of settler colonialism in the south. The southern lady was more comfortable seeing black women explicitly beneath her, so they were maids. I say was, but these attitudes persist, in one form or another, across the US today and influence who works where. In the modern domestic labor field, a lot of the workers are immigrants. When I did work cleaning houses, I met a lot of people from the Caribbean or Latin America. Remember when I said before that live in maids are rare, and often supported by outside cleaners? One of the women I met doing that job was a live in maid from the Caribbean (I wish I remember where but I'm afraid I don't. I was going through a lot at the time my memory of it all is difficult to access in good circumstances) who was responsible for cooking and laundry. We came in to do wetwork and dusting/vacuuming. That family had more money than grains of sand, and they weren't even so rich tbqh. At my agency, we'd usually get a temp staff from Eastern Europe to do the work but they were unavailable at the time due to the pandemic, so Americans were hired instead. It should be little surprise that a settler colonial state will oft assign the women of its (oft imported) underclasses to do any sort of difficult manual labor (particularly the kind that happens behind the scenes!). The institutions of sex, which disadvantage women (and trans women still further), are but one avenue of hierarchical social violence and these intersect with one another tightly.

Hope you enjoyed reading this ramble, and that you found it illuminating!

EDIT: removed a poorly constructed sentence that doesn't read well and utilizes figurative language in a place that should be more clear

[inky-duchess]

Etiquette of the Edwardian Era and La Belle Époque: How to Dress

This is a new set of posts focusing on the period of time stretching from the late 19th century to the early 20th Century right up to the start of WWI.

I'll be going through different aspects of life. This series can be linked to my Great House series as well as my Season post and Debutant post.

Today will be focusing on the rules of clothes with this time period.

A Cut for Every Occasion

As you may know, the wealthy elite and their servants lived extremely regimented lives and every aspect was governed by careful rules. They would be expected to wear the right outfit at the right time, every minute of the day. Any misstep would be noticed at once and be subject to scruntiny.

In the circles of the elite, one would be expected to change for every occasion. One simply wouldn't wear the same outfit they've been lying around the house in to attend tea at somebody's house. Fashion in this era was dictated by the clock and by the event diary of the wearer.

Ladies

Women of the upperclass would be expected to change at least six times a day. When she would rise for a morning of repose around the house, she would simply wear a house gown or a simple blouse and skirt. If planning a morning stroll, she would change into a walking suit which is a combination of blouse, skirt and jacket along with her hat usually of tweed. If running errands or paying a visit to friends, she would wear another walking suit. If riding, she would wear a riding habit and a hat. If hosting tea or taking tea in her own home, she would change into a tea gown with is a lighter more airier gown more comfortable for chilling in. If attending a garden party, one wears a pastel or white formal day gown accompanied by a straw hat and gloves. For dinner, she would change into an evening gown which would be more elaborate and show off a little more skin than her day wear. After dinner and ready for bed, she would change into her nightgown.

Female servants had an easier time of it. A housekeeper and lady's maid would simply wear a solid black gown for the entire day. A cook and kitchen maids would wear a simple day dress for working with an apron. Housemaids would usually wear a print dress with an apron and cap, changing into the more formal black and white attire you would associate with a maid.

Gentlemen

The gentlemen had an easier time but they too were subject to changes throughout the day. Men were expected to wear a suit. The most popular day time suit was a sack suit. These were comprised of plain and loose fitting jackets, worn over a starched shirt with a high collar, waistcoat and straight trousers with ironed creases. These suits were exclusively wool with cheaper ones made of a wool and cotton blend. Grey, green, brown, navy were usual but sine younger men preferred louder colours such as purple which was a trend for a time in the 1910s. These suits were worn about the house or in the city accompanied by a coat. Men would change into tweed if shooting or walking. For garden parties, a gentleman would wear a light coloured suit, usually white and a straw hat. For dinner, a man had two choices: his tails or his dinner jacket. A dinner jacket was for less formal suppers say if dining at home. This was a collection of a jacket, trousers, waistcoat, a bow tie, a detachable wing-collar shirt and black shoes. Lapels of these jackets were edged with silk or satin. Tails were worn at a formal dinner party, at White Tie events. This was made up of a tailcoat, white piqué waistcoat, a starched dress shirt with a pique bib and standing wing collar with a white bow tie. Trousers were lined with trim to hide the seams.

Male servants were soared changing. Footmen would wear their livery around the clock which would resemble white tie to a certain extent or mimic court dress of palace servants. Butler's would wear a variation of a gentleman's evening suit throughout the day. When a male servant is dressed, he usually stays that way. However, a valet or a footman may be taken to pick up during shooting parties where they would wear tweed walking suits.

Jewellery

Jewellery was an important sign of status in society. Upperclass women of this time has access to untold caches of sparklers but there were rules concerning their use and meaning. Earrings were usually clip ons as women of high status would not pierce their ears. Simple, understated earrings were worn during the day with more ostentatious sets were worn in the evening time. Broaches were popular at this time, usually worn at the throat of a gown or blouse or walking suit or affixed on hats. Large stoned rings were worn over gloves while slender bands were worn under. Jewellery was intricate and understated amongst old money whole the nouveau riche went for chunkier stones and larger settings. Tiaras were only worn at White Tie events, held after six pm and almost never by unmarried girls. One would not wear a larger tiara than that most senior lady present. Men would wear tie pins, cufflinks and pocket watches to match any occasion be it for a jaunt on the town or at a formal evening party.

Hats

Hats were a staple in this period. Anybody respectable from any class wouldn't venture out of the door without a hat.

Men would wear hats when heading out but always remove them when entering a building, and never wear one without removing it for the presence of a lady. The bowler was seen as more a servant's headwear while a top hat was reserved for gentlemen. Flat caps would be only seen on gentlemen at shooting gatherings or in the country, they were popular among the common class for any informal occasion.

Women had more stricter rules concern hats. Hats for women were more a day accessory worn while out and about. A woman would not wear a hat in her own home even when entertaining and nor would any of the other female occupants if joining the gathering. A woman would not remove her hat when attending a luncheon or tea or any activity. Hats were held in place by a ribbon or sash tied under the chin or by a hat pin, which is essentially a large needle thrust through the hair. This was the period where women's hats became more ornate and rather large, leading to some critisism. Among servants, housekeepers and lady's maids would not wear a hat while indoors and working but a housemaid or cook or kitchen maid would cover their hair with a cap with housemaids changing into a more elaborate one come evening time. Male servants would not wear hats unless travelling or outdoors.

Gloves

Gloves are a staple in this period and worn only at the opportune time. Among servants, only footmen would wear gloves and usually only when serving. Butlers would never wear gloves. Female servants did not wear gloves.

Men did wear gloves, usually woollen or leather while outside or riding gloves when out on horseback.

Women wore gloves whenever outside. Day gloves were usually wrist length, with evening gloves stretching to the elbow. During dinner, evening gloves would be removed at the first course and laid across the lap, replaced at the last course when the ladies leave for tea and coffee after where the gloves are then removed again. Gloves are always worn when dancing and at the theatre or opera. If one is sitting in ones box and sampling some chocolate, one can remove their gloves for that.

Hair and Makeup

Make up was a no-no amongst the upper crust and for their servants in England and America, as it was seen as licentious but in France, the use of rouge was accepted. Perfume and cologne were acceptable but excessive use was frowned upon.

Hair was dressed by one's lady's maid. Bouffant updos were popular in this time period for married women. During the last years of this period, women began adopting the 'bob' but this was seen as radical and sometimes scandalous. Unmarried girls could wear their hair down, often with accessories like a bow to adorn their tresses. Servants would always tie up their hair and never be seen with it down or uncovered (though this depended on their job).

Men would comb their hair, slicking it back for dinner. Most men were clean shaven but if they wore beards, they were usually well groomed. Hair was kept short for grown men and teenagers but young boys may wear their hair longer whilst in the nursery.

[blingblong55]

Can't catch me now- Simon "Ghost" Riley

Photo credits: @ave661 ---- No mentions of reader, angst, comfort? fluff? death of character ----

"GHOST!" 

It was too late, the body hit the ground. Simon Joseph Riley was pronounced dead. Gunshot to the head, his heart penetrated by the bullet and the ones to witness this are his mates from the team. His blood ran down the rocky mountain. The team witnesses something. During this whole mission, they only experienced rain and thunder, to their surprise, the second Simon dies, the sun shines through the clouds. A rainbow was born over the horizon. "Enjoy your new home, soldier," Captain Price nods at his own words as with glee he knows his comrade is finally home. "Take it easy," Gaz takes his cap on and looks at the sun that pours from the clouds. "Tell Soap we'll meet him for drinks someday," Price adds and fights back tears.

 It's the end of an era but the beginning of a good life for the two past comrades. 

Three days later, there he is, his body in that casket, a proper military funeral given to him and he is laid to rest with the rest of his family. 

Simon opens the door to his childhood home, the sun rays casting through the window, the walls grey and white "Welcome home, son," his mum greets him. There is confusion in Simon. Why was he here? is this a dream? Before he can even gather his thoughts, his brother, nephew and even his sister-in-law walk into the entryway and hug him. "Welcome home, brother," Tommy whispers as he hugs a confused Simon. 

Why is his dead family here? Welcome home! what does this mean?

Oh...

Oh by all luck, he's dead. 

"Mum?" 

"Yes, Simon?" the woman's sweet voice rings in his ears. 

All of a sudden, he is excited and happy. A smile creeps into his lips and there it was, that good feeling. He is home. His body doesn't ache, the scars are gone and all that is left with him is a smile and an afterlife where in this one, he finally has it all. 

"The girls are in the kitchen," his mum whispers. 

His wife and girls? There it is, that smile. He hasn't seen them since their funeral, this must mean he truly is in heaven. 

He walks past his mother and goes into the kitchen. The sight is too much to not just stop and idolise. His wife, his three daughters and those smiles and giggles. "Girls?" His voice is raspy. There is a knot in his throat. He is home with them too. "Daddy!" His youngest smiles and runs to him with her small arms open, his two other daughters follow suit. 

"Oh, my loves," his big arms wrapping over all of his daughters. Tears run down, happy ones. It's been two years since he last held them this way. "My lovie," Simon holds his arm out so his sweet wife can join this moment. That gentle and soft hand of hers, god it's like the heavens finally gave him peace. He sobs, it's uncontrollable and how can a man like him control such tears when after so long of losing his family...families to his job he finally has both? 

He gives kisses to all their foreheads. "Daddy, what took so long?" His eldest little princess asks. "I don't know princess, but I'm finally home," he reassures and hugs her again. Those tears run down yet again and he won't stop them. 

This is his heaven. The walls, the giggles, the hugs, and that familiar scent. Heaven is not clouds and a pearly gate for him, no, but it is this. A kitchen, his four loves, his mum, Tommy, Joseph and even Beth, everyone that has ever mattered to him is here and for once, he is in heaven. 

"Uncle Soap!" Joseph smiles. 

Soap?...Johnny?

"About time you came to the party, LT," Soap pats Simon's back. 

"Great to see you, mate." 

"Likewise. I held onto a good bottle for ya, yer girl won't let me open it though," Soap sends a teasing annoyed look at Simons's wife and a small chuckle escapes Simon. 

"She's a stubborn one, like yer, Lt." Soap teases. "I married her for a reason, isn't it right, love?" Simon can't help but smile as he gets to finally say that nickname again. "Very, Si." What a sweet delight, to have his pretty girl call him that again. 

"Price and Gaz joining?"

"Not yet, give them a few good years."

"Daddy, let's go play outside!" 

This is what he missed. The demands from his princess, the giggles, the big eyes and that pout when he would say no. "Okay, but only before your mum wipes that chocolate stain from your nose." He chuckles. "Deal," the little girl runs back to Simons's wife. 

From a corner, Simon sees Tommy. He's playing catch with his son, laughing at some dumb joke. 

It's beautiful. It's painfully beautiful how one can die on Earth but live in their heaven. 

One soldier dreams of this, they yearn for it and that is what Simon did for nearly 28 years. Now, all he has is this. No more war, no more aches, no one to chase. He can grow in this home again. He will live the life he always dreamed and right now, that is all he wants and needs. 

Yeah, you thought that this was the end

A/N: I honestly don't know where this was heading so....im sorry if it's shit

Tags:

@joyfulmarvelofavengers @ghostnna22 @hermizery @liyanahelena @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @krinoid24 @iruzias @idklols @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @pbcartii @Llelannie @macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @kaoyamamegami @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @anonxasian @born4biriyani @thegreyjoyed

[trishmishtree]

Another year, another recap: a list of things I sewed in 2024

So...I kicked off the year by not doing any sewing in January or February.

In my defense, I was starting a new job and doing paperwork and moving across the state at the time, and most of my sewing things were still in cardboard boxes in my parents' guest room. Figured I'd start small when I finally moved and unpacked all my worldly possessions, so I revisited the cape I made for Capetember 2022 and added slits so that I can still use my arms without letting cold air in. I also added pockets for my phone and keys. Photo not included because, well, it looks the same as it did in 2022, just with arm slits.

Then I made this hand-embroidered Regency reticule. It's based on the one in the Rijksmuseum. It's cute, it's functional, and I made it as true to the original as I could, thanks to video footage from Sewstine on Youtube, who actually got to study the extant reticule and see the hidden side panels.

Then I got sick of back-lacing myself into Regency stays that never seem to fit my scoliotic torso correctly, so I made the c0rset a la parasseuse. They take like 30 seconds to put on and actually give the correct shape, and now I finally have regency stays that work for me. I'm not including pictures of myself wearing them, but here they are laid flat:

Then in April, I finished my red and white floral 1780s Italian gown ensemble. Technically, I'd made the overdress in 2023, but at the time I hadn't added the hooks and eyes that would allow the skirt to be bustled up in the back, and I still needed to make the contrasting striped petticoat. It's not a true HA recreation because I put all the structure directly into the bodice lining, instead of making a separate pair of stays to wear underneath, but all the other under layers are period correct, including the split rump I made to go with it. I also made an attempt at the American Duchess 18th century cap, but I made it out of limp, flimsy cotton batiste instead of linen, and it doesn't look right, so I'm going to have to revisit that once I make a proper 18th century linen shift and see how much leftover fabric I have after that. Oh, and I hand-embroidered some garters for my 18th century stockings but never bothered to take pictures because I don't like how they turned out.

In May, I also made this generic 18th century petticoat to go under my Italian gown ensemble, because the visible striped petticoat kept grabbing to my stockings and the fabric of my shift.

Also in May, I made the blue Regency pelisse. Base pattern for the bodice part is Black Snail’s #0323 regency spencer c. 1810-1815. I just altered the sleeves and added the long skirt. The oak leaf rouleaux pattern on the front of the bodice is from this pelisse from the Cincinnati Art Museum, though I wasn't going for a direct reproduction.

Then came the Edwardian nightgown, based on an actual pattern from the era. I wish I had had more fabric to work with because the final hem is less full than I would prefer, and the sleeves could use maybe 2-3 inches of ruffle to length them.

I forget why I didn't sew anything in June or July. Maybe I had gone back to fix a fit issue with the regency pelisse? I don't know. But in August, I hammered out three more projects.

I've been working on creating a series of body blocks/slopers for myself so that I can then use them to draft whatever patterns I want. I currently have a basic modern princess seam bodice block, a sloper for a generic blouse (which I've used to adapt multiple Edwardian shirtwaists, because I really just need it to fit the neck and shoulder region), a basic regency bodice block, an 18th century conical bodice block, and a bunch of circle skirt templates. I've been meaning to make a new set of Edwardian combinations (because I totally used the wrong weight of fabric on my first attempt), but I wanted to test out my drawers pattern first, so I made a pair of basic drawstring shorts to wear under my skirts for work, just for a bit of extra coverage. They function okay, but they're going to need more fullness in the legs to work for Edwardian costuming, so I didn't take any pictures, and there will probably be several more rounds of wearable mockups in my future.

My second sewing project in August was to revisit my old gathered-front regency partially-bodiced petticoat. Now that I had a functional regency bodice block pattern, I basically installed an entirely new bodice, reduced the amount of fullness in the front gathering, and also added about an extra yard and a quarter of fabric to the back of the skirt, since the original skirt hem was a little too narrow for walking comfortably. Regency skirts may look slim, but they should have at least 2 yd (preferably more) in the hem circumference in order to look and function correctly. The new and improved petticoat could basically be a dress on its own, minus sleeves.

And finally in August, I made the historybounding princess skirt. I've already detailed my grievances with this skirt in my original post, but it was basically an attempt to have a warm skirt to wear to work in the winter, but it requires a c0rset (and undershirt and c0rset cover and petticoat) to look correct, so I basically only use it for casual cosplay/Halloween costumes now.

Moving on from that dud, in September, I went back to regency and altered my new and improve bodiced petticoat pattern into an actual evening gown pattern. This dress came out exactly how I wanted. It would probably be my favorite thing I've made this year, except that it has a 2-foot train that is very unwieldy.

I had quite a bit of large scraps leftover from the gown project. My friend from residency was expecting a baby around September, so I used some fabric scraps and made her a ruffly baby dress. Since baby was due in September and I wasn't sure whether the weather would still be warm enough for white frilly summer dresses, I decided to make the dress in a 6-9 month old size so that baby would be able to grow into it come spring/summer. (Spoiler: baby came in mid-September while it was still reasonably warm. Oh well. At least she'll get to wear it in the spring. And now I have a birthday twin.)

In October, I embarked on my most ambitious project of the year and made my first pair of 18th century stays. This fabric is 100% not HA, and I did a combination of hand-stitched and machine-stitched channels, but everything else about the stays is historically...adequate. It's boned with zip ties because I didn't want to waste a whole roll of $$$ynthetic baleen on my first pair of (fully boned) stays when there was a 95% chance I'd screw something up. Pattern is self-drafted, and my only gripe is that I made my mockup half-boned and it fit perfectly, but I switched to fully boned for the final stays, and that affected the fabric's bias stretch, and I had to add a stomacher to give myself more room.

Then Halloween was approaching, so I made a witch hat from scrap wool coating fabric from my cape and wool skirt projects. Wish I had made the brim wider and the crown taller (it's just a little too small proportionally all around), but I didn't have a stiff enough interlining material, and the whole thing was floppy enough as it was. I'm just going to have to get more fabric and proper millinery buckram for next year's Halloween project.

Speaking of Halloween, I ended up not using the witch hat at all. Instead, I made what I'm calling the Anne Shirley blouse. It's another Edwardian shirtwaist I self-drafted from my basic blouse pattern. It's not an exact match to the blouse she wears at the end of Anne of Green Gables (1985), but I couldn't find a narrow-striped black and gray cotton shirting-weight fabric. Trust me, I looked for months. The final blouse is pretty, but the ruffle needs to be redone because it makes my shoulders look too wide for the wool historybounding princess skirt I wore it with, and the collar needs to be taken in a couple inches because it's too loose right now. And I need to make a proper ankle-length Vicwardian walking skirt some time in the future before I can put this project to rest.

November was another slow month for me, between the results of the you-know-what and our impending doom and I just couldn't find the time or motivation to do stuff for fun. I did have a 2-yard length of deadstock burgundy polyester chiffon in my stash that I had been holding onto for about a year without a clear project in mind for it, so I used it to make a Greek chiton. No pictures included because I'm probably only going to wear it as an accessory with my regency gown (because those white regency gowns are basically OG historybounding).

December was another weird month. I had just seen the Wicked movie and was drooling over all the costumes (designed by THE Paul Tazewell), so instead of sewing clothing to wear for myself, I went back to my roots and made a modular origami doll of Glinda, then sewed her bubble dress from actual fabric. It was a lot like draping a dress, except with a miniature dress form.

Then, because the doll is like 6 inches tall and I had a bunch of fabric leftover (I only got a quarter yard of each and even that was too much for a 6" tall doll), I used as much of the scraps as I could to make another Glinda bubble skirt but big enough to fit my brother's cat. (Neither of our cats likes to dress up, but my cat is too big for the skirt to fit, and his cat is pure black so a black Elphaba dress wouldn't show up on her). I don't think I took a picture of the skirt when I finished it, and now I don't have it because I gave it to him for Christmas. We'll just have to see if his cat lets him put the skirt on her long enough to get photos.

It looks like I accomplished even less sewing this year than I did last year, and 2023 was a down year too, but I don't feel that unproductive. This list was something like 21 projects, so I'm still averaging about one project every 2-3 weeks, which is reasonable since I'm working a Big Girl Job now. I do have more days off per week since starting this job, but my free time is now clustered into 2-3 day periods (during which I also need to remember to cook, eat, clean my living space, do laundry, shower, sleep, prep for the work week, etc.), instead of being spread out more evenly throughout the week like when I was in residency, so that probably has something to do with my productivity level.

Or maybe it's because my projects in 2024 are more intricate and involved than, say, making a batch of small things like baby bibs and tailoring hams, or so I'm spending more time on each project. There were also several other projects I started in 2024 that are currently still in my Unfinished pile, and I'm slowly working my way through them in the hopes that they'll make it onto next year's list of things I sewed in 2025.

Oh, and in other news, my sewing machine broke on 01/01/2025, and it broke even more when I tried to fix it FML, so I'm either going to have to take the thing in for repairs (if anyone even still fixes this old crappy cheap model) or buy a new slightly less crappy one secondhand. So expect to see even more hand sewing from me. I might even take up Stephanie Canada's Butterick walkaway dress challenge 2025 but do it by hand just to see how long it takes.

[inukag-archive]

do you know any nsfw stories that are set immediately after kagome comes back after the 3 years? It can be a chaptered story or oneshot

Thank you!!!

superpyku asked:

Hello, I love a good post-canon fanfic where it describes what happened when Kagome came back from the well. Doesn't need to be a long fic about their life thereafter but one about what happened during and immediately after their reunion will be good. Would love to know your fav list of such. Thank you

-------------

We love a good reunion fic! The list below is full of stories that take place right as Kagome returns to the Feudal Era and immediately after, split into NSFW and SFW for whatever mood you're looking for. There are a lot of fics like this out there, but we capped ourselves at 20 to keep the list at a reasonable length. Feel free to add your favorites in the reblogs/replies!

If you're looking for more post-canon goodness, you can also check out our other post canon lists:

Post Canon

Post Canon NSFW

Post Canon / Canon Fluff

Happy reading!

[NSFW]

Dearest by @kitramune (M)

After Kagome returns to the Sengoku Era, Inuyasha and she explore how deep their devotion really goes.

--

Linked by Alyxandra (E)

Inuyasha and Kagome experience their first night together three years after the disappearance of Shikon no Tama.

--

When She Comes Back by Karaumea (M)

The story of his wait, her return, and their reunion. One-shot lemon that takes place during and after the last chapter of the manga.

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Her Time by @keichanz (M)

All he wanted was some of her time, but as it turned out, so did everybody else. He'd have to make it clear that while they merely borrowed her precious time, he stole and hoarded it for himself, because in the end, she and everything about her belonged to him.

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The Return by Sweet Inu Girl (M)

Kagome has returned to the feudal era after three years. Finally feelings are revealed and a new life begins for our favorite miko and hanyou.

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Coming Home by @ruddcatha (E)

The day Kagome returned to the Feudal Era, Kagome and Inuyasha came out of their long nightmares. When they are finally alone, confessions are made, feelings are revealed, and a decision is made that impacts the rest of their lives.

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After the End: New Beginnings by @splendentgoddess (X)

Welcome to my official post-manga universe! This introductory story takes us through Kagome's return to the past, and her developing relationship with Inuyasha. The first installment of what will be my "After The End" series!

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To Fight For Tomorrow by @sarah-writes-stories (E)

The shard hunt...the battle with Naraku...it was only the beginning.

Their past held a terrible prophecy. Her future, the terrifying result. Kagome had finally been allowed to return through the well...but it wasn't luck that granted her wish.

The red threads of fate had always tied them all together, had always guided them towards each other. Now, as new powers are revealed and souls are healed, their destiny becomes clear.

Theirs is a quest that requires everything they have to give.

Theirs is a battle they cannot afford to lose.

Theirs is a fight to protect tomorrow.

--

Come Back To Me by jyvonne13 (M)

After defeating Naraku, Inuyasha and Kagome were separated for three long years after the well closed. What happens on that fateful day when Inuyasha catches her scent after so long? What do the two of them promise each other and how do their lives change from this point on?

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With You by Animetey (E)

“Kagome, did you come back to see me... and to be a priestess? Cause I thought...or, I’d hoped... that you came back to be with me.”

Everyone has their own version of what happened the night Kagome returned, this is mine.

--

[SFW]

White Dogs on Blue Cotton by @artistefish (T)

Caught up in the rush following her unexpected return to the past and to the man she loves, Kagome realizes a little late that some of her wardrobe choices aren't quite as private as they used to be. Post-canon, InuKag reunion, super-duper fluffy.

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Hearts Returned by @mrfeenysmustache (M)

A sweet moment alone after a long day of welcome backs.

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Love Language by @shikonstar (T)

When Kagome returns to the past, a love-starved hanyou is hoping for some words of affirmation.

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One Day With You by @hanmajoerin (G)

After spending three years in the world she grew up in, Kagome is able to return home.

A three years later reunion fic.

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Inukag Fluff Week 2022 (Chapter 3: Hot Springs) by @inukagbot (T)

inuyasha is a thoughtful, soft little puppy who missed his girlfriend very much so he decides to do something nice for her like the Good Boyfriend he is. confessions ensue.

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Clashing Emotions by PureKagome (K)

Kagome has finally returned after her three year absence. And what is the first thing Inuyasha does? Screw up.

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Stay By My Side by PotatoButt (G)

Kagome finally gets to return to Inuyasha's time after three years.

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A Not So Modern Convenience by doggieearlover (T)

Post Manga Canon. Kagome is worried about InuYasha's happiness while he has the same concerns about her and tries to do something about it.

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Kagome's Got To Go by @ajoy3fanfics (NR)

The way Yuki and Suki saw it, this Kagome woman needed to go.

From the first day she came, they knew she was trouble. They had been playing a perfectly fun game of 'who can annoy uncle the most' (It was always Suki), when he suddenly stood up, passing them off to Shippo with a distant look in his eyes. Uncle was fast, there was no question about that, but unless there was a reason for him to be on high alert, he was downright lethargic. Still, Uncle Inuyasha needing space wasn't anything new, so it wasn't terribly worrisome that he took off at high speed; It did, however, raise a few red flags when Shippo shook them off and headed in the dog demons direction, screaming "it's her! She's back!"

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Snapshots of Life After the End by ananova (T)

A collection of post-canon after the anime and manga end interconnected drabbles that show bits of Inuyasha and Kagome's life together. Not posted in any particular order.

--

Feel free to add your own recs in the comments or reblogs! Check our Masterlist of previous lists to see which topics we've covered.  After reviewing our submission guidelines, send us an ask (here).

[fi-sneakerboy]

[freshthoughts2020]

[mrs-stans]

Sebastian Stan’s Crash Course in Becoming Trump

After a long tour of duty in the Marvel universe, the Romanian-born actor is conquering the festival circuit, with starring roles in “The Apprentice” and “A Different Man.”

Illustration by João Fazenda

By Alex Barasch

The actor Sebastian Stan glanced approvingly at the neon signage and old-school menus at the Pearl Diner, in the financial district, the other day. He’s lived in and near New York since he was twelve—around the time Donald Trump swapped his first wife, Ivana, for Marla Maples—and has watched the city evolve. “It’s funny. It’s changed, but it’s also the same buildings,” he said. “And then you’re, like, ‘The buildings are there, but you are not the same.’ ”

Stan took off a white ball cap and ordered coffee with cream; he was jet-lagged, fresh from the Deauville American Film Festival, where he’d received the Hollywood Rising-Star Award. “Rising” is a stretch for the forty-two-year-old, who’s appeared in a dozen Marvel projects, but Stan has lately reached a different echelon. In May, he went to Cannes for “The Apprentice,” in which he plays seventies-era Trump. In Berlin, he’d won the Silver Bear, an award whose previous recipients include Denzel Washington and Paul Newman. “Everyone was, like, ‘Oh, the Silver Bear!’ ” Stan said. “Then you go back and you’re, like, ‘Do we know what the Silver Bear is in America?’ ”

The prize was for his role in “A Different Man,” Aaron Schimberg’s surreal black comedy, which nods to “Cyrano de Bergerac.” Stan stars as a man whose lifelong disfigurement is miraculously reversed; the shoot included a grisly three-and-a-half-hour session spent peeling off chunks of his face.

“The Apprentice” demanded a transformation of a different sort. At the diner, Stan pulled out his phone and swiped through an album labelled “DT physicality”—a hundred and thirty videos of Trump, which capture his tiniest gestures and his over-all mien. Marinating in Trump content was, Stan said cheerfully, “a psychotic experience.” He watched the clips so many times that when the director, Ali Abbasi, asked him to improvise in a scene about marketing Trump Tower, he could rattle off the stats: sixty-eight stories of marble in a peachy hue chosen by Ivana, because, as the real Trump put it in a promo, “people feel they look better in the pink.” (It turned out that he’d also memorized Trump’s lie: the tower is actually fifty-eight floors.)

Growing up in Communist Romania, Stan had just an hour of TV news each night; New Year’s Eve was an event because it meant twelve hours of programming. His instinct for mimicry—he had a habit of imitating family members and neighbors—was the earliest tell that he might be an actor. After he and his mother fled to Vienna, in 1989, Stan got his first credit, in a Michael Haneke film—an experience that nearly put him off show business. “I stood in line with, like, a thousand kids, for I don’t know how many hours—which I hated,” he said. “If I could fucking meet Haneke now, it would be amazing!”

When the family moved again, to America, he experienced pop-culture shock. He binged every movie he’d missed—from “Back to the Future” to “Ace Ventura”—in a pal’s basement. Another friend roped him into the school play. “My high school was really, really small, so I didn’t have a lot of competition,” Stan said. “They were, like, ‘Please be in the play!’ ” Soon he was playing Cyrano himself.

After stints on Broadway, and on “Gossip Girl,” Stan was scooped up by Marvel. “I’ve been lucky to play a character for fifteen years,” he said. The blockbuster paychecks freed him up to explore edgier material. “I, Tonya,” in which he played the ice-skater Tonya Harding’s dirtbag husband, was a turning point. “It allowed me to see that a good director will bring out more in you than you can,” Stan said. It was also his first time portraying a real person—a feat that he repeated in “Pam & Tommy,” as the Mötley Crüe drummer Tommy Lee, and now in “The Apprentice.”

“It’s like learning a piece of music,” Stan said, of nailing an impression. “You’ve got to start out slow—it requires practice. Suddenly, you’re getting it more. You’re still making mistakes—but you’re playing the music. You’re playing the music every day until you can do it in your sleep. That’s when the fun starts.” He sliced the air for emphasis, then caught himself and grinned. “And sometimes it’s months later at a diner, and you’re, like, ‘Why am I doing that with my hands?’ ”

[blueiscoool]

Rembrandt Portrait Found in an Attic Sells for $1.4M

The work is attributed "after Rembrandt" and dated to the 17th century.

Last summer, Christie’s sold the last known Rembrandt portraits owned by private collectors. But, a mysterious unsigned portrait in the style of the Dutch master recently popped up in an attic in Camden, Maine—and sold for far more than its estimate of $10,000–$15,000 at Thomaston Place Auction Galleries. Although the details surrounding this work remain murky, an anonymous private collector from the U.K. scooped it for $1.4 million.

“I never imagined I’d help close a deal for over a million dollars,” says Thomaston Place Auction Galleries’ staff member Zebulon Casperson, who represented the winning bidder over the phone, in a statement. “It feels like a shared victory.”

The new portrait turned up during a standard house call that Kaja Veilleux, the founder, appraiser, and auctioneer behind Thomaston Place Auction Galleries, made to an private estate in Camden.

We often go in blind,” Veilleux remarked in the auction house’s release. “The home was filled with wonderful pieces, but it was in the attic, among stacks of art, that we found this remarkable portrait.”

The perfectly preserved, purportedly antiquated work of oil on cradled oak panel depicts a teenage girl dressed in an austere black robe, with a frilly white collar and white cap, against a plain background. A gold, hand-carved Dutch frame rings the scene.

While the artwork’s style, particularly its striking use of light, indeed evokes Rembrandt, the real revelation is on the verso—which features a slip from the Philadelphia Museum of Art recording that Mr. Cary W. Bok, a late descendant of Philadelphia’s Curtis Publishing Company fortune, loaned it this artwork in 1970. The slip attributes the painting to Rembrandt, titling it Portrait of Girl. Although the slip also noted that Bok was based in Camden, it’s impossible to say whether his family put this portrait up for sale. Veilleux has pledged to keep the consignor anonymous.

The Philadelphia Museum of Art was unable to clarify which show the institution may have loaned this portrait for, but a representative did note that such a slip does not equal an authentication. Thus, Portrait of Girl hit the block as a painting done “after Rembrandt” on August 24. According to Live Auctioneers, the work is from the 1630s, an era where Rembrandt was overseeing portrait commissions as the head of art dealer Hendrick Uylenburgh’s studio.

But, lingering uncertainty hardly stymied the excitement. Seven hours into the second day of the Summer Grandeur sale in Thomaston that Saturday, bidding on the portrait opened at $32,500, already well above estimate, and ballooned rapidly over 60 successive offers by 11 bidders—two in person, and nine over the phone—in increments of $25,000. As bidding reached $900,000, the pack whittled down to three, and then two, phone bidders.

According to the auction house, the painting now represents one of the most expensive artworks ever sold in Maine. By comparison, Portrait of Marten Looten (1632) remains the most expensive authentic Rembrandt ever sold, after hammering for $33.8 million in 2015.

By Vittoria Benzine.

[theleslistuff]

Felt like writing for no particular reason, enjoy ❤

Caretaker syndrome

Summary; Danny's friends and family have been worried sick about Danny's bad habits; lack of sleep, he barely eats or drinks anything to keep fulfilling his obsession for protecting Amity park, so they began to take roles: Tucker keeps track of time for classes, Sam fights off easier ghost, Jazz makes sure he's not sneaking out to help Sam with the easiest ghost, but his twin brother Andy has the hardest duty... To make his personal chores..., but who is going to help them with their problems if they're exhausted trying to keep Danny (half) alive?.

Warning: alternative universe from the fan fiction My Brother is a ghost by Darkfoxkit where the corrupted era never happened and Andy joined phantom team as technically Danny's babysitter.

-Danny has a twin brother au

-OCs

-Mention of torture

-Danny is less human and more zombie like in his human half

-Loss of self, psychological and physical body horror for several characters (not in this chapter)

Chapter 1: The babysitter

It was a regular day in Amity Park, birds chirping, people running from a ghost attack, nothing different from usual as the infamous ghost boy in his trademark spandex black and white suit answers the distress calls quickly and more efficiently than any other ghost hunter in the town except for the red huntress.

-Ha!, is that everything you got dude?!-

Danny taunted the new ghost guard from Walker who was terrifying the town as he was testing out his weapons on people... A direct order from Walker to provoke the ghost boy, the heavily armoured guard finally with his real target on sight began to shoot at him with one of his many weapons, Phantom eluded the shots with elegance and grace until he flew straight into a publicitary cardboard.

-Ouch..., okay I deserved it for playing too long...-.

He murmured feeling ashamed since the nearby crowd was looking and some people even took photos of him, he decided it was time to finish this, he pulled out from his backpack the Fenton thermos and since he had some distance from the ghost, he could easily open the thermos, activate it and suck the ghost and all his weapons before he could react.

-And... That's how you finish a war machine folks!-.

He joked with a cheerful smile, the crowd claps fill his core with warm despite it's cold nature. The ghost boy considering his work done here waved a good bye at them as he begins to fly away as the red huntress is already trying to shoot him.

But between the cheering crowd there's someone not as joyful as the rest who didn't even looked away from his cellphone as the ghost boy was saving them, this boy held an uncanny resemblance with the son of the two most incompetent ghost hunters in town; the Fentons, black messy hair, pale skin with some freckles and soft factions with a fragile looking frame, the only physical difference between those two being the boy's tired green eyes but not as dreadful as the Fenton boy's blue dead looking eyes, their clothes different too since Danny Fenton usually wears a white shirt with a red circle in the middle his best friend assures there used to be a NASA logo there, blue baggie pants and red tennis shoes and this boy prefers a darker color scheme with a black shirt having a blue triangle in the middle, red pants and blue tennis shoes, it's said they are like a polaroid of each other.

The boy pulled out a bottle of water from his orange backpack and without giving a glance at the approaching frame of a tired looking Danny Fenton, he extended his arm holding the bottle of water at him, the opposite immediately snatched the bottle from this boy, practically ripped off the cap and began to drink from it, some of the liquid splashing on his clothes and face due the rushed and messy drinking, once the water was gone, he handed the empty bottle back to the other boy.

-Thanks for the saving bro...-. Danny replied with a huge smile on his face, the boy he called just smiled and nodded. -Try not to get smashed by the cardboard next time-, the boy answers his tone holding a small hint of mischief that Danny did not appreciate as he gave him a small playful hit with the elbow.

-Just let's go home Andy, mom and dad are going to be really worried when they see you in the middle of the ghost attack-, Danny said to his twin brother as he began to walk away, Andy walked behind him at certain distance thinking about his distant admiration for what his brother does as a everyday routine... Save the town, sometimes wishing he could do more than just keep Danny's homework done, make sure he drinks water and has something to eat, a desire to be a sidekick in the real battle field but a mare human like him could never do as much as he does, except for those wealthy and skilled enough through tough training like the Guys in white or the red huntress receiving her supplies from Vlad Masters.

His steps slowed down reflecting on this fact; does he really want to stay forever as just a babysitter for his brother's personal needs?... Doing double homework for him to not fail his classes, making him go to sleep, take him food and water straight to the battlefield, it's a noble duty, there's no denial in that and he gets to have time with his brother, right?!.

He stopped to walk and looked at Danny running away towards home leaving him behind, he can't help but to have mixed feelings about this, feeling proud and happy to see his brother improving since Andy decided to be like his babysitter, there's no longer black bags under his eyes, there's less bruises, burns or other injuries since he's more focused and eating better.

He looked at his own reflection on a nearby glass from a cafeteria, his brother is even starting to develop his muscles, meanwhile he looks like a bag of bones, a frame noticeable smaller than his twin, dry lips and hollow eyes with black bags under his eyes, it's the first time he really has noticed how much he has not taken care of himself..., he touched his cheek in a absent and unconscious gesture trying to confirm it's indeed his real reflection, he clenched his hand into a fist, he's determined tonight he will talk this out with Danny, it's not like he doesn't want to help anymore, it will be more about trying to have either a more important role or make Danny self conscious about his lack of self care to make him less reliant of him to take care of himself too.

With a tired look and determination on changing things he began to walk towards his home, nothing will stop him from finally talking this out with him...

Or so he thought until he felt a sharp pain on his neck, his vision immediately turned blurry, every object began to spin around him, his hand moving in slow motion towards his neck to inspection what is the cause of this, his fingers register a needle before he began to fall and finally passed out.

From behind the boy the tall figure of a muscular man with dark skin, a bald scalp and dressed in a white suit characteristic from the anti ghost organization "The Guys In White" took away the needle from the boy's neck and carried the boy in his arms as if he weighed nothing, he walked away with normalcy, unnoticed by the people passing by because of his authority figure the organization gave this uniformed man as a government agency, not a single soul questioned when he carried the boy inside the Axion lab's building.

Andy's eyes began to flutter open, the sedative making him have a hard time to even feel alive, his body felt sore and heavy, his breath was jagged and his mouth tasted like iron with a heavy tongue he could barely move, the first thing he noticed besides feeling like garbage was that he was in some kind of prison of high technology, the environment was painted in a pure pearl white, not a single spot of dirt to the sight, the toilet, the bed, the sheets the purest white he could ever see making him have a strong guess about who is behind this, the only striking contrast being himself and the bars of electric blue energy to prevent him from escaping, he could not help but to think... It would be extremely easy for Danny to pass through those bars, but for him it would be certain death just to touch them.

He began to rise from the floor, falling in several attempts with every muscle feeling like they are made of jelly, as the time passes the effects of the sedative finally seem to fade away and allow him to stand up properly having a little support from one of the sickly white walls, he panted and closed his eyes, his bad shape along with the strong sedative used on him making a single simple task as standing up a total nightmare, he groaned in frustration until he heard a voice from outside his cell.

-I offer you an apology young man, as you must know our organization develops technology against ghost and our agent had no other sedative at hand than one designated to put Phantom to sleep..., It's a good new to see you recovered almost completely-.

Andy opened his eyes and turned around to see the man, as he suspected it was one of the agents from the guys, but this one looks important..., He's noticeable older than most of the field agents, a man around his sixties, grey short hair on his head a good cared beard, his skin pale and although with some marks from the age and scars from battle, his skin is totally pale, almost like an albino, his eyes covered in black glasses like those of the other agents, hands perfectly still behind his back like a gentleman or perhaps holding something. The boy was kinda shocked, he didn't knew anything about this man but the mare appearance tells him he's a big threat around here, so he proceeded carefully.

-I'm sorry but I think you're mistaken sir, I'm not a ghost, why did you brought me here?-, Andy asked as he made eye contact with the man or at least looking at his glasses, the teenager immediately tried to look at something, anything on his expression that would tell him something about his motives with him, it was no use, the man held a perfect poker face, not a single muscle on his face moved until he spoke.

-We're never mistaken young man, but don't think too highly of yourself, you're not going to just be a prisoner for us, you're more of a tool to get a bigger threat...-, Andy's eyes widened and he gave a step back, it was not necessarily a explanation to connect the dots and realize he is going to be used as a bait to get Danny, the old man gave a small smile as he noticed this child was catching up fast with what is happening.

-As you may have guessed, we keep our vigilance on this ghost called Phantom trying to get a soft spot, a way to get rid of that menace pretending to be one of us..., but we noticed a constant in the last months, his assistants may snap out of his control or not be with him in a daily basis but you seem to be quite close to this ectoplasmic menace...-.

The man shut down the energy from the bars through a remote control and threw on the floor photos from the vigilance survey showing Andy with Danny either human form or ghost form, The boy's blood ran cold though his body as he realized they have always known about Danny's identity and immediately discarded the possibility of halfas, just thinking of Danny's human half as camouflage, in certain part it makes sense for him, Andy himself still not fully believes in the concept of halfas.

-So, what are you going to do?, just keep me trapped until he comes to the facilities?, you know he could easily pass through a cell like this one by just turning intangible and get me out, not even being noticed at all-

Andy felt confident enough to tease a little due the simplicity of their plan, but a bad feeling shrunk into him as the man began to laugh, the sound of his rough laugh equally as strange as dreadful breaking his confidence into small pieces.

-Dear boy, don't insult my intelligence, I haven't insulted yours for believing such a brutish idea..., we are not in need of a bait, we're in need...-, he stopped at mid sentence to suddenly stab Andy's shoulder with a syringe he has hidden on his hands all this time to inject all it's contents, Andy was about to scream when the man suddenly pulled out the needle and covered the boy's mouth with a hand, he approached slowly to his ear and confessed his real plan.

-You'll be my weapon to eliminate that menace once and for all and you'll not be able to do anything to stop it...-

He tossed the boy inside the cell and turned on the cell bars once more before he could even get up from the floor, the boy not understanding at all what he meant by that, rushed towards the cell bars and yelled.

-What do you mean by that?!, what have you done to me?!-

He tried to get an answer but the man was already walking away, ignoring the teenager's words.

[seaseren]

Chiaki was so fucking sick of Starlight.

It’s not like they wanted to be. It’s a wonderful time of year, a time about giving and sharing and community- they’d heard enough speeches about the true meaning of Starlight to know that only a Grinch would oppose the holiday.

They had certainly heard enough speeches about the true meaning of Starlight. Early on, after the Calamity, they honestly leapt at the chance to be one of the Saint’s Helpers. It felt important- or at least everyone else acted like it was, and Chiaki just wanted to do something to give back. Even back when they were extremely sick, they did what they could- help make soup for the community, repair old and scavenged toys because there weren’t enough materials to make new ones, even making decorations that covered up lingering damage from that fateful day. The mood, still dark from the advent of another Umbral Era, was so much brighter for the holiday. It wasn’t just Starlight Cheer, it was a tangible reminder that they had survived, had persisted, that their traditions would not end with them. It was hope in as raw and undiluted a form as Chiaki had ever seen, and they had been honored to help make that happen. 

And every year since then it mattered less and less, and yet everybody else got more and more excited. As Eorzea came out of the Umbral Era, as the Empire lost more and more of their footholds in Aldenard, and things just got better, well, helping out on Starlight felt less like rekindling a precious flame and more like being the one stuck sitting around the campfire and poking it every half hour. Which was fine, Chiaki knew that doing good didn’t always feel good, but somehow inversely proportional to the actual substance of the holiday as how many godsdamned speeches people made about it. That first year nobody had really felt the need to pontificate on holiday magic, or togetherness, or goodwill towards man. It had just sort of been…implied. But as the years went on plays (about the true meaning of Starlight) started running through all of the Sixth Umbral Moon, and songs (about the true meaning of Starlight) filled the air in every Aetheryte Plaza, and speeches (about the true meaning of Starlight) seemed ready at everybody’s lips, no matter what the occasion was or if the holiday was actually relevant or how many times everybody else in the room had heard-

Chiaki took a deep breath and forced themselves to stop pacing about the room. This year, they had decided no more- no more helping with the holiday, no more carols, no more parties, nothing. They had procured presents for everyone they felt socially obligated to, left them in a heap on Tataru’s desk with a note detailed which was for who, and gone to the one place Starlight couldn’t find them- Norvrandt. Lyna had been a bit surprised when they showed up asking for work, but thankfully for Chiaki Norvrandt still had enough actual problems, despite how most of the Crystalline Mean managed to be just as concerned with money and status as any Ul’Da-

More deep breaths. There was plenty of work to be done in Norvrandt, and Chiaki was happy to do it. They had just finished some guard duty for the teams of people working to survey and assess the repairability of towns and farms once lost to the Sin Eaters, and now that they were back they were hoping to catch up with Ryne and lend their botanical know-how to her efforts in-

There was a knock at the door to Chiaki’s suite- the familiar call that Thancred drilled into all the Scions. It seemed Ryne had come to them. Chiaki rushed to pull a robe over their house dress, a small smile on their face, and opened the door-

That small smile suddenly had to fight to stay on.

From the other side Ryne smiled up at them- all decked out in reds and white, wearing a sweater despite the fact that Norvrandtic winters were mild. She had on a little cap, pom-pom and everything, that someone had surely handmade- of the three major culprits Chiaki didn’t actually know which was most likely to knit. 

“Chiaki!” she said, and they both hugged. “Lyna told us you were in town! She and I were wondering if you would help us with a project!” Chiaki knew what was coming next. They also knew that they didn’t have to do this, that agreeing to this would be reaching new levels of self-parody, and that it wouldn’t even be that hard to explain that they needed to head back to the Source. And yet even as their mind was reaching for last ditch escape plans- would it be feasible to spend a month in Elpis?- their mouth said, with an ease that came from far, far too much practice- “Of course! What can I do to help?”