tiny, messy, lunch break sketches absolutely MUST include wonder woman rn…
I love love LOVED this look (and i want to do a more finished piece with it eventually). i can’t not go hard about costuming and the history of dress and i’m going to flail about this for a sec. Costume designer Lindy Hemming clearly knew what she was doing. This wasn’t just a “this outfit is plain and practical after those nonsense ‘fashionable’ options” it was a definite, intentional nod to WWI Women’s uniforms (and Diana is going to the front, it makes sense for her to be in something uniform-ish).
Although WWII is better known for women going to work for the first time (i.e. the iconic ‘Rosie the Riveter’) - women absolutely served in various capacities in WWI and were considered crucial to the war effort. Even though most of the women who served still did so in tradition-friendly roles of relief & aid work, WWI is notable in that it was one of the first times that women served either in an enlisted or civilian capacity in uniform.
Here are some examples of WWI women’s uniforms to show the clear tie between these and Diana’s outfit:
Women’s Motor Corps 1916-1918 (American) - If you look at men’s uniforms from the same time period the core design elements are basically identical, they’ve just been ‘feminized’ in the women’s versions.
UK army recruits 1917 (check out those hats! definite link between those and Diana’s, Also the clear distinction between what’s worn by the recruits and the commander)
Women Police Service, 1916 (British) - women served in uniform at home - filling traditionally male roles while men were away (MOST women served at home, with a relatively small % actually ending up at the front). below are some women firefighters in london around the same time wearing similar uniforms (i can barely go down a ladder period, much less do so with someone over my shoulder - so badass!!!):
The costuming design is perfect in context of the movie’s storyline, wonder woman as a property, and as a tribute to the tens of thousands of women who enlisted and volunteered during the war and it made me SO HAPPY.
*side note - while pulling together these photos I learned about the Women’s Death Battalions (no, seriously) and Holy. CRAP. apparently around 6,000 russian women were actual combatants during the war and not just aid & relief and jfc how had I never heard about this? the rest of the world is like “we guess women can be nurses and ambulance drivers, we are so progressive!!!” meanwhile russia: GETS TIRED OF WOMEN DISGUISING THEMSELVES AS MEN AND SNEAKING INTO THE ARMY. FORMS WOMEN-ONLY UNITS AND CALLS THEM ‘BATTALIONS OF DEATH’*
Let no man stand between a deranged Frenchman with an unusually tough skull and a pair of incredible heels.
Louis channels my inner dialogue when I laid my eyes on these badass boots. Trying to get back into the feel of working on personal projects again, and drawing my characters in dumb situations seems like a good place as any to start.
Author’s note: So, here’s one of the promised works, woohooo! My pack told me they aren’t familiar with the series, so it makes me even more excited to be able to introduce you to the astonishing world of House MD. :3 (Those of you who have never heard of the series: you might want to take a look at this video. I spent quite a bit of time with picking out the best that more or less sums up this complex series, and in the end, I settled on this one.) As for the picture, I’m not even the tiniest bit sorry ;) (I have a thing for uniforms and suits, seriously… if this is a disease then I’m incurably infected.)
don’t have to hurry now, because we don’t have a new patient at
the moment. Our last one was sent out of Princeton-Plainsboro safe
and sound two days ago, and since then, I haven’t seen my
boss’s—Gregory House’s—face. My colleagues have been busy
with minor jobs, so the privilege of being in charge instead of House
landed on me in the end; I have to take care of his
private hours to deal with people who come to see a doctor for an
illness as simple as a flu or a running nose. Of course, it was
inevitable that Cuddy grew suspicious after she found everything
perfectly documented and done in connection with that genius man’s
consultation hours—hence, after one of the controls, she entered
the room, only to find me sitting with the notepad overlapping my
thighs, papers in hand, faking House’s signature on each one of
then, I’ve been forbidden to take care of the people and do House’s
job instead of him, which is why my current task is to try to reach
him through his phone and pray him back into the hospital to do his
work properly instead of having me do it for him—but I know the
only way to coax him back is finding a new case, but it’s not as
easy as one might think; finding something that genuinely piques
House’s interest is like looking for a needle in a hayrick.
now, I’m standing at the nurses’ desk with a random person’s
file in hand, roaming over the lines idly just to kill the much time
on my hands with my phone plastered between my cheek and shoulder to
keep it in place, waiting for the dialling tone to end and hear House
speak on the other end of the line—which never seems to happen.
an exasperated breath, I place the document back into the folder
holder before deciding to head to the ER. I need to find something to
do, even if just a quick job, otherwise I’ll most likely go nuts by
the end of the day due to a fried brain. I adjust the white labcoat
and my ID card clipped to it, before picking up a stethoscope to hang
it in my neck. Upon entering the ER, I look around to see a
few nurses dealing with all the patients. Thankfully, upon scanning
the area, I notice Allison Cameron; without thinking, I approach her
in hopes she could help me, albeit she’s busy on her own.
Cameron,” I greet her. She doesn’t even look at me, being too
preoccupied with removing broken splinters of glass from a man’s
skin with a tweezer.
she replies, only with a quick glance cast at me with a small smile
in the corner of her mouth, then her blue gaze is already gone,
focused back on her patient, resuming her task at hand.
you have something for me?” I ask with just a touch too much
desperation in my tone. I find myself cracking my knuckles in
anticipation in the pockets of my gown.
is not back yet, is he?” She forms that as a question, but I have a
feeling she meant that to rather be a declaration. She knows House
like she knows the back of her hand—all those years she’s spent
working for the man, she’s gotten used to his erratic behaviour.
And he won’t pick his phone up either.”
he won’t do that unless he has a good reason to,” she points out
the obvious to me; that much I know, too.
do you have or don’t have?” I insist stubbornly. I can’t let
everyone just shake me off because it would be too inconvenient for
them to find a task for me. I’m an intern, that’s part of what
they are supposed to do for me. After a couple moments of
contemplation, Cameron offers, “A police officer was transited here
not ten minutes ago. Gunshot wound.”
do I find him?” I ask immediately. She points behind me with a mild
jerk of her chin, and I turn to see my new patient, but instead of
himself, I find myself looking at a pale turquoise curtain. I hastily
pick up every tool I’ll need to take care of the officer; I arrange
everything on a metal tray before taking off towards the cop. Tucking
the curtain away, I finally see him—laying on the bed, palms
covering his body where the bullet passed through his skin, wide eyes
now trained on me after his attention was attracted at me by the loud
be honest, when I was told that a member of the force was shot, I
expected anything but an arrest-worthily stunning man. I thought I
would find myself face to face with a tad obese man who consumes too
many doughnuts during the free periods in his shift, maybe in his
late forties, too—but instead of that, my patient is an attractive
man with firm tones and a sculpted body. When I glance down at his
chart where a nurse has previously written his data, I quickly
calculate in my mind that he’s twenty-six. Years before I joined
health-care, such a scenario had already been on my bucket list, but
I wouldn’t have dared to think it would come true once.
back into his eyes, a shiver runs down my spine when I notice how
much his gaze has changed—now it conveys anger and impatience, and
I would like to believe it’s not because of me, but because he was
shot and is now frustrated that he can’t do justice in town.
takes ten minutes to treat a cop on the ER?”
His voice stings me to the core, but I choose not to let his bitter
remark get to me—just because he has a bad day, doesn’t mean mine
has to be ruined, too. Instead of biting back something in response,
I jovially smile at him as I set the tray down beside the hospital
bed he’s occupying, after closing the curtain back behind me. The
loud smack of the rubber gloves sharply reverberate around us as I’m
putting them on.
imagine you don’t get to handle everything all at once, either,”
I can’t resist commenting, but there’s no actual heat behind it.
That seems to have the desired effect on him, though, because his
stiff posture softens, tension apparently seeping out of his frame. I
reach for a small cloud of cotton that I drench in the disinfectant
just moments later. I grab the piece with a tweezer, then move to
treat the abused area of the man’s skin. He pops the buttons on his
uniform without a word, opening the garment up and revealing his
naked upper body to me. It sways me a little, but I gain my strength
back quickly. “This may hurt a little,” I say gently, but I must
sound like I’m trailing off—and I probably am, because I’m
transforming into the detached doctor I’m supposed to be at the
tiniest hiss is what I get in return to my warning as soon as the
puffy material touches the wound. After I’m ready, I launch into
fishing out the bullet from his body—no operation is needed,
because it’s not in too deep, thanks to the bulletproof vest he
wore, but had taken off before I approached him—now it’s laying
on the chair stood next to his bed, long forgotten. The officer’s
torso is covered in blood, and the more ministrations I do, the
messier it gets, so from time to time I need to swipe him clean.
silence settled between us is just stretching and stretching, none of
us seems to have any intentions of breaking it anytime soon. Thus,
the sounds of the rest of the ER encompass us—the intermittently
ringing phones, the general hustle and bustle of people, patients and
nurses included, a voice calling Dr. Wright to head to the nurses’
desk through the speaker, and conversations that are muted to low
buzzing in our ears.
some reason, I feel tempted to ask him how he got shot, so after a
short consideration, I do just that. His answer throws me for a loop,
can you possibly
not know that?” I ask before I could stop myself and think
otherwise. My hand stopped over his wound without my consent, but the
bullet is out of him, and I only need to stitch him up now, so it’s
fine. He doesn’t take my question personally—more so, he seems
embarrassed about it. I instantly say it’s never mind, and go to
resume my work, getting ready the needle and the thread, when he
abruptly speaks up again. For some reason, it gives me the sense that
he feels like sharing right now; not just anything, but his darkest
secret, and he thinks I’m the perfect recipient of his honesty.
have no clue what happened. Suddenly I blacked out, then the next
thing I know is that I’m in an ambulance on my way to the
eyebrows knit together in confusion, but refrain from commenting
anything this time. I do ask him, “Did you black out after being
shot or before that?”
officer purses his lips into a thin line, apparently deep in thought
to give me a plausible response. He ends up answering, “I’m not
words barely leave his mouth when I’m muttering in a flurry, “Wait
a second, I need to make an important call,” pulling off the gloves
from my hands clumsily, while I’m already trying to reach for my
cell phone. I put distance between the man and me, phone already
plastered to my cheek and my other hand covering my free ear, find an
abandoned and remotely silent corner outside of the ER, then wait for
the dialling tone to stop before starting to talk.
The Fernie Swastikas were a women’s hockey team that was formed in 1922 in Fernie, British Columbia. Their uniform used as a symbol the swastika, which before World War II was a common religious symbol.
Uniform of Woolwich Military School belonging to Prince Imperial Louis
Napoléon and Zulu Assegai dated from the 19th Century on display at the Musée de l'Armée
In the outbreak of the Franco-Prussian War Napoleon III sent his son to England to keep him safe. The British Royal family kept him in Camden Place in Kent. Upon the death of his father in 1870 the local Bonapartists proclaimed him Napoleon IV though he never became emperor.
He later went on to join Woolwich Military School where excelled in fencing and riding but went on to gain a commission in the Royal Artillery following in the footsteps of his great uncle Napoleon I.
When the Zulu War started in 1879 he forced Queen Victoria to allow him to join the British Army in South Africa. He was attached to the Royal Engineers in Lord Chelmsford’s force but managed to persuade his commanding officers to let him join several
It was one of these missions on the 1st of June that he was caught unawares but several Zulu’s and in a brutal skirmish was killed by an assegai thrust in the eye. The assegai here were found by the Prince Imperial’s body in Istelizi.
Since it’s 4th of July, I think this is the perfect day for a Turn marathon!
I don’t know about you, but this promo photo from season 2 is my FAVOURITE ever from the entire series. I mean, I feel deeply patriotic and proud and ready for anything… And I’m not even American O.o It’s just the flag and the light and the characters and SO MANY MILITARY UNIFORMS <3
So, go to you Amazon Prime or Netflix or wherever you can find this series in your countries because this is the right day for it :)