historically designated

need refs/inspo for period clothing?

here you go:

lots of periods in one spot/fashion through centuries:

it indeed is western/european centric, I’m sorry for that, but for other cultures I simply don’t have so many references

ALSO note that most of the pictures show historical clothing from the upper classes or more festive clothing of the lower/working class because normal working clothes wouldn’t survive for such a long time, and the clothes were often re-used over and over again!

Story 215: Cultural Exchange

The human steps onto the station from her shuttle, and walks into the scanner.  It flashes - no weapons.  I pity her, though there’s nothing I can do for her.  By tomorrow she will be a slave the same as me; the Gaunvans collect ambassadors like trophies.
“Hello there!  Amanda Thorn, ambassador for the Empire of Humanity.  You’re a Ixian, correct?”
Mimicking human body language, I nod my head.  "That’s correct.  Ix Malasan.  It is an honor to meet you.“
She smiles, reminding me again that she has somehow modified herself to breathe atmosphere suited to the Gaunvans rather than wear a respirator like myself.  Other than that she appears to be a standard human, something I am led to believe is less and less common as they pursue the bizarre compulsion humans have to alter their bodies.  Changing hair color, adding pigments to their skins in patterns and pictures, growing long tails or ears that mimic other species from their planet.  No other known species tampers with their bodies like this.
“Not to be undiplomatic, she says, "but the Gaunvans enslaved your people.  Why are you here?”
“We… reached a mutually beneficial agreement.  We would have lost in combat and been eliminated, so we chose to preserve what we could of our culture.  The Gaunvans are not naturally skilled at diplomacy, so they bring me along to assist and to show that peace can be made.”
She nods.  "Understood.  I can respect that choice.  How much freedom do you have, personally?“
Smart of her, to start planning for her future. "A fair amount.  I have free reign on the ship when we are in transit.  At the homeworld I have reasonably comfortable quarters.”
“Have you ever met the Empress, or…?”
“Oh, no.  No, while on the homeworld I am confined to my chambers - but they’re quite spacious.”
“Shame.  Okay, plan ‘A’ then.  Let’s get this over with.”

Despite my attempt at encouraging diplomacy, the Gaunvan commander starts with threats.  I don’t know why I bother.  He looms over the human, chitinous plates almost black in the dim light.  His pod of six is posted around the room, for show more than for actual security since she followed orders and came alone and unarmed.  "Failure to surrender will bring the full wrath of our army upon you.  Humanity will be crushed, and wiped from the universe.“
To her credit, she looks very calm.  "We live in a post-scarcity society.  Bloody conquest just seems silly, doesn’t it?”
“It is for the glory of Gaun!”
“Well, I’m not prepared to get into a religious debate with you,” she says, “since I doubt there’s anything I can do to change your mind.  Since you’re committed to this course of action, what are you willing to offer if we surrender?”
Now he goes back on script.  Maybe I am getting through to him a little?  He talks about the benefits of being enslaved, mainly the protections for up to twelve designated culturally historical sites.  They’ve been mostly good on their word on my homeworld, though they did use the area just outside of the Hahhn Memorial as a waste dump.

She nods as she listens.  There was a part of me that was worried she would argue, because the humans are somewhat childlike.  They don’t understand the horrors of war.  Certainly they fought in the past, but the last time they had to battle was more than two of their generations ago, so these ones have all grown up coddled and soft.  They play games with each other instead, silly competitions.  They make art, and play pretend, and alter their bodies for fun.  They don’t have weapons anymore, and wouldn’t know how to use them if they did.
“Well then,” ambassador Thorn says, “this is about what I expected.  On behalf of humanity, I would like to formally reject this offer.”
Oh no.  Foolish humans.  The galaxy will miss your innocence.  The commander makes an excited clicking noise, looking forward to combat.  He reaches a blade-tipped hand towards ambassador Thorn, but hesitates as every device in the room bleats out an alert - we’ve all lost communications with the outside.

Like one of the dances humans do, she gracefully pivots around while taking his hand.  She ends up close to him and places her other arm against his thorax, then… oh gods. Gods, what… she’s ripped his arm off.  It’s not possible.  The commander is clearly thinking the same thing, staring in mute shock at his dripping limb.
“I’d like to extend a counter-offer,” she says, and flips the arm around before jamming the bladed end into his neck.  The warriors around the room are fidgeting, uncertain.  They haven’t been told to attack, and don’t want to dishonor their commander by intervening in a fight with such a small creature.  She’s still holding the commander’s severed arm in his neck, but she rotates and heaves, lifting him off the ground with it for a moment… and then his head pops off, landing squarely on the conference table.  She allows the corpse to slide to the ground, and straightens her clothes as if they aren’t covered in ichor.

I don’t understand.

The warriors, now with no orders at all, finally act.  She smiles as they come for her, I suppose because she has done her duty to send this powerful message of resistance.  She can die in peace.  Or… no… She’s killing them.  She’s smiling because this is fun for her.  Though they’re partly killing themselves; if there had been two of them, prepared, strategic, they might have prevailed.  Watching six panicked fighters get in each other’s way while trying to stop a smaller, faster, and somehow impossibly stronger foe is almost hypnotic.  At least one is killed by the stab of a friendly lance due to pure confusion.  It’s over faster than I would have thought possible, severed limbs strewn across the room.  I’ve got some fluids splashed across my clothing.  Only one yet lives, and he is retreating.  She seems to be allowing it.

She follows behind, holding a lance.  The wounded and scared warrior scurries down the hallway towards his ship, looking back behind him as he goes.  She’s just… walking.  Calm.  And for some reason I’m following.  The last Gaunvan reaches the airlock and the second he enters his code she throws the lance - throws it! - and spears him.
“Come on, we’re stealing their ship.”  She says it like this is the most normal thing in the world.
“There are thousands more on board!  Thousands!  Almost all warrior caste!”
She smiles again, and keeps walking.  I see errors on the screens that we pass, messages indicating communications have been lost.  They can’t tell anyone what is happening here.  Even the communicators within the ship are on nodes rather than being wired, so the warriors at one end of the vessel won’t be able to coordinate with the other end.  Do they even know they’ve been boarded?
“How?”

We enter the bridge after she kills a handful of other guards with ease.  They’re too shocked by her presence to act in time.  Once the door are sealed and she is working on the control systems she starts talking to me again.
“Well, you know, we do like to be prepared.”
“But you… you ripped his arm off.”
“Yeah, that was super satisfying.”  She looks at me appraisingly.  "Oh, come on.  Is it really that surprising?  You knew we were into changing ourselves, right?  Being strong enough to pop an overgrown bug’s forelimb off isn’t rocket science.“
"Your people are so peaceful…”
“Oh, sure, most of them.  But we did that, too.  Tweaked ourselves over the years to decrease aggression and some of our tribalistic tendencies, increase empathy… all stuff that can be undone if needed.  Though for a good cause even the nicest of us can squish a bug or two.”
“You bond with Ry'ling devourers!”
“Those are the big fuzzy guys that look like cats, yeah?  Those guys are adorable!  But… look, liking some things that could kill us doesn’t mean we’ll sit back and get enslaved.  We didn’t put up with it well when we enslaved each other, and we certainly aren’t going to go for it now that we’re… finally… on the same page about slavery being unacceptable.  It was, uh, a longer time than we like to admit before the last hold-outs were convinced of that one.”

I can feel the ship un-dock.  We’re moving.  "What about all the warriors on board?  They’ll break through the doors eventually!“
"Not according to this control panel here.  Take a look.”
It says there’s no atmosphere in the rest of the ship.  Life signs are negative on all but two of the warriors, presumably the only ones that got to their suits in time.  She disabled all the safety measures, somehow.  She just killed… I check the life signs readout again to confirm the number… three thousand, six hundred, and fourteen soldiers.  Wait, how is it tracking that unless… “Are communications back up?”
“Yeah, I’m calling some friends.  The military is right around the corner, so to speak.”
“But Earth doesn’t have a standing military.”
She laughs.  Not just a little bit.  She’s actually doubled over for a moment, unable to catch her breath.  "Sweet Jeebus, you guys actually fell for that?  No standing military.  Have you read about us at all?“

Three ships appear seemingly out of nowhere, and one docks with the Gaunvan vessel.  Once the atmosphere is restored we head to the airlock to meet them, and I’m surprised by an entire platoon of Gaunvan warriors.  Speaking English.
"Okay boys, send your last goodbyes!  This is in all likelihood a one way mission.  Commander Thorn!  It is an honor to see you again, and might I say you look exquisite drenched in the blood of your enemies!”
She bows to him, blushing, and then salutes the Gaunvans.  Or… humans?  Can they change themselves this drastically?
“You’ve got two holed up in here somewhere.  Bridge is clear, have the techs bring the new brain on board.”
“New brain?”
She looks at me like she’s forgotten that I’m here, and then turns back to the others.  "Men, this is our new friend Ix Malasan who has just been liberated from his captivity.  He’s going to be helping with our intel.  Malasan, yeah, a new brain for the ship.  Once this vessel is cleaned up and back in service with a new crew we’ll be able to take it over whenever we want even if all of our boys get killed.  We cooked up a really sadistic AI for it.“
"But how do you know the protocols?  This was your first contact with the Gaunvans, they’ve never lost a ship anywhere near here!”
“No?  There wasn’t a mining colony disaster two years ago?”
“But that was just an accident… and you weren’t even involved in the war yet… and…”

The faux-Gaunvans have finished boarding.  The one that was talking to them before puts a bladed claw on ambassador - commander - Thorn’s shoulder.  "You coming with?“
"Naw.  Orders said I could only come if they allow ambassadors near extremely high value targets.  Malasan here says they don’t, so I need to wait for my next mission back on Earth.”
“It would have been nice having you with us, Thorn.  Well, maybe we’ll see each other again.  Suicide mission or not, I think I’ve decided to live through it.”
“Bold choice,” she says, and kisses him next to his lower mandibles.
He nods at me, then turns back to his men. “Okay everyone, we are now officially on the job.  And what is that job?”
In unison, they start chanting.

“FUCK! SHIT! UP!  FUCK! SHIT! UP!  FUCK! SHIT! UP!”

For a moment I nearly feel pity for the Gaunvans.  Nearly.  Commander Thorn leads me off of the ship, and I start thinking about what useful information I can provide the ‘harmless’ humans.  Fuck shit up, indeed.

9

4,000 Houses for 4,000 Followers: No 20:

Highclere Castle, Hampshire, England. 

Rebuilt 1839-42 by Sir Charles Barry, with a park by Capability Brown. 

Was the home of Lord Carnarvon, friend and sponsor of Howard Carter, and is the main filming location of Downton Abbey. 

So after watching Hidden Figures I’ve been researching the lives of the main three protagonists and I found something really beautiful??? 

Karl Zielinski, the Polish Jewish man who in the film encourages Mary Jackson to go get her engineering degree is based on a real person! The real man’s name was Kazimierz Czarnecki and I wish that they’d left his real name in the narrative. He was a long time mentor of Mary and they even published a whole bunch of scientific papers together! And, when he retired, she threw a party for him.

Kevin Costner’s ‘Some White Men Were Good During Segregation’ plotline was utterly useless, unnecessary and complete historical revisionism designed to make white people feel comfortable. If they wanted a white male protagonist, they should have focused on the achievements of Kazimierz Czarnecki instead and celebrated the solidarity between Jewish people and Black people.

Maladaptive Daydreaming is:

I’ve seen a few time of people saying how they go into daydreams so specific that it often affects their concentration etc

Maladaptive Daydreamers often:

-Can daydream for hours at a time. Some can daydream an entire class period or event period.

-Find concentration very difficult. Their attention get turned away from the subject even if they want to listen and sometimes don’t realize they do it right away.

-Lose amounts of sleep through daydreaming. When you say you’re going to bed it somehow turns into making a new novel in your head.

-Puts most of their day into daydreaming. Daydreaming is commonly used as a fun thing to do-to go into your own little world. But with MD, it becomes almost addicting as if you feel the need to daydream.

-Don’t seem to care if being ignored or being alone. MDers like to be alone most of the time and put that time to more daydreaming.

-Forget what they are doing or where they place things. You tend to doze off for a long enough time that you can’t remember what you’re doing or didn’t know what you were doing in the first place. You could place something down and forget as you weren’t fully aware of what you were doing.

-Stops things they are doing like watching a video or reading a book as they will fall into a daydream, usually triggered by something that was watched or read, such as an event you created in your fantasy or storyline that related to the thing you watched or read.

-Things such as something you read or watched may influence future day dreams. For example: “this scene would go great with my story”.

-Sometimes even research things to make the story more realistic. Someone might research something like historical events, names, designs of houses etc.

-Storylines that include characters, plot, setting, and more. These people often get attached to their characters and find more story inspiration to put with them. Some people may also draw their characters.

-Acting out while daydreaming. Los of people including myself will find themselves in situations where they would laugh at something they would have their character do or even talk or use movement like moving their hands or whispering.

-Sometimes experience “deja vu”. Where something will seem familiar even if it’s something new.

-Very good at visualizing things. A good thing that comes with MD is that you can easily get a visual of something, like if someone told you to imagine the ocean, MDers would be able to imagine a perfect scenery and may even hear things like the waves crashing.

-Even though daydreaming comes as a fun activity, people with MD have a greater risk of safety hazards. Such as walking into a busy street or getting into a car accident.

-Procrastination at its finest. MD usually can cause procrastination, like waiting last minute to do an assignment or a task at work. Sometimes somethings as little as not wanting to do the dishes or the laundry. And often may have a messy room or apartment/house from procrastinating cleaning.

-“What are you thinking about?” Dreading the question that’s suppose to come off as innocent becomes a problem. When most people would say “oh just my after school activity” or “a funny video I watched today” MDers have to find a way to easily explain “My 50 chapter long novel that some how created in my mind in the last 10 minutes”

-Never seem to be bored. With an imagination and a daydream that MD has never seems to keep you bored as the main activity is the daydream and find enjoyment through the daydream.

-May get irritated when their dream is interrupted. Like being in a good spot in a tv show, you don’t don’t want the scene to be interrupted and may ignore or get frustrated with someone/something that interrupted you.

-Can’t seem to turn it off. As some people find it easy to revert their attention back to what they were originally focused on, people with MD can’t seem to turn the daydream off and can’t control it.

There can be many more things that comes with Maladaptive Daydreaming, but hopefully this helped anyone who was curious about why they were doing these things and couldn’t understand why.

Also MD is usually caused for a reason and uncovering that reason can result on how to stop MD. Seeking help from a professional would be advised.

Also if you experience this and just want someone who can relate feel free to message me :).


(I’m also putting this under multiple tags to get the attention of more people)

  • Director: I'm making ahistorical film about a strong independent woman who doesn't take crap and I need you to design her costumes
  • Costume Designer: Oh, cool, heck yeah, what era?
  • Director: I WANT HER TO WEAR A LEATHER CORSET AND LEATHER, LACE UP THIGH HIGH HEELED BOOTS AND SHE HAS TO HAVE A HIGH LOW HEM DRESS THAT'S HIKED UP TO HER THIGHS AND HER BOOBS NEED TO BE HANGING HALF OUT. RUFFLES.
  • Costume Designer: Wait- wh-
  • Director: KEEP HER HAIR DOWN LONG AND UNCOVERED. WE NEED TO CONVEY TO THE AUDIENCE THAT SHE IS SEXY AND INDEPENDENT AND MODERN.
  • Costume DesigneR: but-
  • Director: MAKE IT SEXY.
4

Eram Garden (Bagh-e Eram) - Shiraz, Iran

A historic & traditional Persian garden, it dates back to the 18th century. It’s also a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

10

4,000 Houses for 4,000 Followers: No. 68:

Chastleton House, Oxfordshire, England. 

Built from 1607-12, now run by the National Trust. 

Interior photos are mainly from Country Life, exterior photos by me.