military buttons


BTS is back on the red carpet and looking better than ever. Following a scene-stealing appearance at the Billboard Music Awards in May, the Korean boy band sensation has returned to the West Coast for their second U.S. awards show: the 2017 American Music Awards, which will also feature their first major televised stateside performance. For the historic occasion, the members returned to Saint Laurent designer Anthony Vaccarello, whom they trusted to once again deliver seven modern black suits, each tailored to the individual.

V chose a sleek black jacket with a Mandarin collar and silver military buttons running down the front with oversize suit pants, while Suga wore a cropped lapel-less coat over a cream-colored henley. Jin also went sans lapel in black tuxedo satin, which blended seamlessly with Jungkook and RM’s head-to-toe black (the former went classic, the latter added leather). The final two members, Jimin and J-Hope, chose to branch out: Jimin by adding a gunmetal moto jacket, J-Hope with a modernized changshan suit coat. Standing together, they reinforced their message of shared style with a personal twist. It won’t be the last time we see it.


General Grant posing for a photograph, 1860s

Simple Physics

Based on cuddle prompts 24 (between strangers) and 30 (out of necessity) from @contrivedcoincidences6 and @baronessblixen. I didn’t intend for this to be as long as it is, but I got a little carried away?

Pre-Pilot AU, possible explanation for why Mulder is such an condescending ass to Scully in the first episode. 

Tuesday, December 31, 1991 10:32 PM

The staccato clack of stilettos on tile floor echoes through the empty basement corridor of the Hoover Building. Dana Scully hurries down the hall, the train of her dress in one hand and the files she had spent the last two hours digging through the FBI Archives for clutched in the other. It was supposed to be just a quick stop before the party, but locating the files had taken frustratingly longer than expected and the more she could not find what she was looking for, the more she had become determined to find it. It was a conspiracy of the filing cabinets, she was certain, and finding them had become a personal vendetta, even if it had made her so very, very late. She just needed to get to the parking garage, so she could get in her car and finally be on her way, before she incurred any more tardiness-induced wrath upon her. She reaches the end of the hallway and jams the ‘up’ button, mentally urging the car to arrive faster. The doors finally slide open and she slips inside, finger on ‘door close’, trying to calm her pulse, foot tapping impatiently.

“Hold the door!” an unfamiliar voice shouts down the hall, heavy footsteps growing louder.

Scully groans and jabs at the ‘door open’ button, her military upbringing of unfailing politeness winning out over her desire to get out of there. A large male hand clamps over the sliding metal door.

“Thanks,” her newfound elevator companion shoots her a smile. Adonically lanky with floppy hair and oversized wire rim glasses perched on an aquiline nose, he is dressed in a rumpled white button-down with a wide, garish tie hanging loosely round his neck, forest green patterned with orange triangles. A grey wool trench coat is tossed over his arm.

“Sure thing, ground floor?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

The elevator shutters to life and slowly begins its ascent. It barely clears the first floor when it lurches to an abrupt stop with a precarious creak. A startled yelp emerges from Scully as she grasps for the wall railing to stay upright. The lights flicker and suddenly plunge the tiny car into darkness. After a few moments, the sallow emergency backup lights stutter on.

Scully pulls the elevator emergency phone from its case, stabbing at the red help button to no avail; the line is dead.

“Damn it!”

“Somewhere important to be?” he drawls bemusedly, slowly trailing his eyes down her body.

She is wearing an exquisite cobalt dress with an open back cut down almost to the base of her spine. The top of the dress cuts modestly across her chest and the thin straps hug her shoulders before crisscrossing the smooth pale skin of her back. The fabric shimmers when she moves and the flowing train brushes the top of her feet encased in silver pointy heels that brought her almost to the height of his nose. She shifts uncomfortably under his heated gaze, feeling naked and exposed. She crosses her arms across her chest, causing the creamy rise of her cleavage to swell. This does not escape his notice.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” she rejoins archly. At his non-response, she prattles to fill the awkward silence. “I was supposed to be meeting Ethan over an hour ago and he’ll be waiting with no idea where I am and I have no way of contacting him and I should have just left these stupid files until Thursday but no, I just had to have them tonight because God forbid I don’t do any work and actually relax on my vacation and now it’s New Year’s Eve and I’m stuck in a basement elevator with…with…” she gestures helplessly, realizing she had never asked his name.

“Mulder. Fox Mulder,” he supplies helpfully, looking even more bemused.

Fox Mulder. She knew that name; everyone did. The golden boy of the Violent Crimes Section, his profiling skills had earned him the nickname “Spooky” at the academy.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. You must think I’m insane.” She places her head in her hands with a soft groan of embarrassment, fair skin reddening. Here she is, trapped in an elevator with the infamous Spooky Mulder and somehow she manages to be the crazy one.  

Way to go, Dana. Make a fool of yourself in front of an attractive elevator stranger. Attractive? You have a boyfriend, Dana. A boyfriend who is probably freaking out right now because he doesn’t know where you are.


10:36 PM

Fox Mulder cracks a sunflower seed between his teeth and smiles down at his tiny elevator partner, suddenly finding himself distracted by the escaped curls from the chignon on the nape of her neck. His long fingers twitch as he fights the urge to brush them back. He’d intended for his question to be entirely innocuous, but he’d be lying if he said wasn’t enjoying watching her stumble over herself like a baby bird, all fluff and innocence.

His smile fades when she turns her face to look up at him. He’s taken aback by the sheer fierceness of the blue flame, exactly the same hue as the gown that sheathed her lithe body.

“I’m Dana Scully. It’s nice to meet you, Fox.”

He meets her proffered hand, unable to tear his eyes from her crimson lips as they slide over the syllables of his detested first name.


He almost jerks his hand back at the first touch of her skin on his. He could swear he’s been burned. Was the audible crack of static electricity between them simply a result of the dry winter air or something more?

“Likewise” He swallows hard.

Scully reluctantly drops her hand and her eyes from his. There’s only so long you can keep someone you just met in a polite handshake before it turns into impolite hand holding. She steps back into the corner, awkwardly staring at her feet, unsure of what to say next, silence blooming in the space between them. Did he feel it too? That spark between them? Had it been all in her head?

“So, who’s Ethan?” Mulder’s voice snaps her from her reverie. She lifts her head to find him still fixing her with that bemused gaze, all bright eyes and pouty lips twisting their way around another seed.

“He’s…um…my…uh…boyfriend.” The expression on his face doesn’t change, but Scully is sure she sees a flash of disappointment darken his eyes. “He’s a journalist.”

“Oh…that’s nice.”

Really Mulder? ‘That’s nice’? An Oxford education and esteemed psychology degree and that’s the best you can do?

That uncomfortable silence fills the elevator car again.

10:45 PM

“Maybe we should try the phone again?” Mulder offers. His long body leans across her to pick up the emergency phone and Scully finds her eyes drawn to the wide planes of his shoulders stretching under his dress shirt. “Nope. Nothing.”


He’s suddenly standing much closer to her than he had before, so close she could reach out and touch his chest. Which she will not do. Because he is an elevator stranger. And she has a boyfriend.

“Don’t worry; I’m sure someone will be along soon to fix it. Unless a shadowy government agent cuts the cable and we plunge to our death first,” he monotones.

The lack of humor in his voice gives her the unsettling impression that he’s not joking.

“Somehow I think we’d probably survive the one floor drop,” she retorts, tipping her chin to look at him. “And besides, despite what all your action hero movies may tell you, it’s nearly impossible for an elevator to plummet in freefall. Elevator cables are regularly inspected and rarely break and even if they did almost all elevators have at least four cables, one of which is strong enough to hold up the entire car. And say your shadowy government agent somehow managed to cut all the cables, there are breaking systems activated by a mechanical speed gauge, which clamp the rails the run down the inside of the shaft. And if this nefarious villain somehow destroyed the safeties too, the friction from the shaft rails and air pressure underneath the car would greatly decrease the speed until you ultimately hit the built-in shock absorber that would cushion the impact at the bottom of the elevator shaft. It’s simple physics, really.”

His lips twitch of their own accord. Of course, simple physics indeed. He likes women who know things.

She finishes her diatribe to find him staring at her with that frustrating smile again. She hates it. She hates how it makes her cheeks burn and stomach flip. There you go again, Dana, just rambling on for no reason. Again.  If he didn’t think you were a freak before, he certainly does now. Maybe you should be the one they call “Spooky”.

“So I shouldn’t jump right before we hit the ground?”

“Only if you want broken bones.”

He wonders what else she knows.

“I guess it’s a good thing you’re here to keep me in one piece then.”

He wonders what she knows about chemistry.

“I guess so.”

Mulder pulls back abruptly and clears his throat, moving to lounge against the elevator railing, long arms stretched to either side of him, not meeting her eyes.

10:55 PM

Scully eases down into the corner and pulls the heeled shoes from her feet with a slight wince. They are not the most comfortable of shoes, but they are gorgeous and when she had seen them in the store window, she couldn’t resist them. Besides, Melissa is always telling her she lacks a sense of whimsy and that a bit of impulsivity is good for a person.

An unexpected shiver courses through her. She had been so distracted fighting off the inappropriate thoughts featuring the attractive elevator stranger, she hadn’t noticed the dropping temperature.

“Are you cold?” Mulder asks, staring down at her from his perch, brow furrowed in concern.

“Oh no,” another shiver interrupts her nonchalant shrug. “I’m fine.”

Mulder extends his coat to her. “Here, take this. I’m not using it.”

“No, I couldn’t. I’m sure you’ll want it eventually. I’m fine, honestly. It’s my own fault, really, for leaving mine in the car. I wasn’t expecting to be here this long.”

“Take it,” he insists with a teasing smile. “Before your lips turn blue.”

Unless you want me to warm you some other way… damn it, Mulder. Who are you, Frohike? Pull yourself together. She has a boyfriend.

He crouches down and drapes the coat across her back, his hand lingering on her shoulder longer than necessary. It engulfs her petite frame and she shifts infinitesimally closer to him under the pretense of drawing the coat tighter around her herself. He pretends not to notice. It’s warm from his body and smells like him, dark and woodsy and undeniably masculine.

She smiles gratefully up at him before dropping her eyes, inexplicably shy, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” If his New England upbringing had taught him anything, it was how to be a gentleman. He sits down next to her, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

11:02 PM

“So…what are you reading?” Mulder gestures to the file in her lap. “Anything good?”

“Cadaveric heat rigor in cases of self-immolation”

“That sounds like cheery holiday reading. Certainly gives a new meaning to ‘chestnuts roasting on an open fire’.”

Scully laughs; Mulder decides in that instant that it’s something he needs to hear again.

“I’m a medical doctor. I did my residency in forensic medicine and now I teach at the Academy.”

“A doctor?” She nods at him and he leans over to whisper lowly in her ear, “So, Dr. Scully, have you ever performed an alien autopsy?”

She laughs again, even louder this time, the sound reverberating in the small metal car. His stomach somersaults and he grins over at her. Yeah, he really likes that sound. He wasn’t kidding about the autopsy though.

11:14 PM

Mulder shifts uncomfortably on the hard ground of the elevator car. The chill that had settled in the car shows no signs of abating and the temperature continues to drop. He hunches his shoulders against the goosebumps scattering down the slope of his neck.  

“See? I knew you be cold eventually,” Scully ribs lightheartedly.

“Me? Cold? Nah. I’m far too manly to be taken down by something as insignificant as a minute drop in temperature,” he declares.

Scully rolls her eyes at him, reaching out a finger to trail the goosebumps on side of his neck in proof. He shivers, but not from the chill of the air.

“Uh huh. You can save the macho act for another time, Fox. It’s only going to get colder as the night goes on. I might be a doctor, but I can’t bring you back from the dead if you freeze to death,” she smiles. “Come on, we can at least share the coat.”

Scully slides the coat from her shoulders and moves closer to him, her thigh resting along the length of his. She spreads it across their laps, but quickly realizes it isn’t large enough to cover both of them. She wraps her arms around her top half, now exposed to the cold air. Mulder looks over at her, feeling slightly guilty that he’s the reason she’s no longer snuggly and warm. The sight of her wrapped in his clothes did things to him. Inappropriate things. Things one should not be thinking about a girl with a boyfriend.

Slowly, cautiously, as if to gauge her reaction, he reaches his arm around her and rubs his large hand up and down her thin upper arm, shifting her even closer. She goes completely still, but doesn’t move away.

“Jesus, your skin is still like ice,” he chuckles, the friction increasing between them.


Scully sighs almost imperceptibly and her eyes slide closed a hair longer than a blink should last. His warmth feels so good against her; she wants to bury herself in it.

Mulder rotates his upper body and opens his arms to her wordlessly, his eyes reflecting a silent invitation. Scully hesitates, unsure of the proper social protocol of such a situation and unsure of how it makes her feel.

“Just for warmth,” she clarifies in the sternest doctor voice she can manage.

She crawls into his lap and he pulls her into his chest, tucking her head snuggly under his collarbone. She shifts the train of her dress so she can pull her knees towards her chest. The coldness of her tiny hands seeps through his shirt as they settle over his breastbone and she can feel the rapid flutter of his heartbeat thrumming through the tips of her fingers. He draws the coat back over them and wraps his arms around her. One arm rests one across her shoulders on top of the coat to ensure it stays tucked up against her. The other is under the coat, directly against her curled body, his large hand splayed across her exposed lower back like it somehow knows it belongs there.  

Mulder has to remind himself to breathe. Her soft hair is inches from his nose, the floral of her shampoo wafting towards him; he wants to bury himself in it.

“Of course, Dr. Scully,” he replies. “What else would it be for?”

The answer they both know hangs unwillingly in the air between them.


11:26 PM

The rumbling of his chest reverberates through her body as he enthusiastically expounds a dizzying array of complex theories. When she had asked him a few moments ago what he was doing here so late on New Year’s Eve himself, she’d expected a witty quip about psych profiles and serial killers not taking vacations, but instead found herself the audience of a sunflower seed fueled soliloquy on the inherently flawed nature of the Fermi Paradox and all twenty-one possible explanations for the lack of evidence of extraterrestrial lifeforms.

The soft weight of her body in his lap is making it hard to focus, very hard. He’s disconcerted by how familiar and right it feels with her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest. It’s been so long since he has held anyone like this, felt the warmth of physical human connection. He’d forgotten how much he misses it. Mulder struggles to keep a cohesive narrative as he continues to ramble. He’s sure he sounds insane at this point. Another thing he’d learned from that New England upbringing: blathering on about the intricacies of alien morphology doesn’t tend to impress the ladies.  

Always living up to your nickname, aren’t you Spooky? Fantastic.

Scully really does try to pay attention to what he’s saying, but she’s constantly distracted by the pout of his lips wrapping themselves around words like ‘interstellar’, ‘Arecibo’, and ‘synchronous gauge’. His one hand idly trails over his coat, punctuated by sporadic gestures into the air to emphasize his thoughts, and she can feel his touch even through thick wool. She shifts and his arms instinctively tighten around her, the thumb of his other hand never breaking from its rhythmic sweeps across her the soft skin of her lower back.

“Are you warming up yet?” he breaks from his monologue to look down at her.

“I’m much better now, thanks,” she casts a small smile up at him.

Neither of them dares to move. The ceasing of the steady rise and fall of his chest tells her that she isn’t the only one who stopped breathing. She thinks she sees something flicker briefly in his eyes again before he pulls back and resumes talking aliens and neutrino signals.


11:59 PM

Mulder tips his wrist to look at the time, before extending the watch towards Scully. “Hey Dana, look, it’s almost midnight.”

“Really? We’ve been in here that long?” Scully peers at the watch face, shifting in his lap and flexing her ankles.

“The New Year shall be upon us in 10…9…8…7…” She tilts her head back to look at him. Her eyes catch his and do not waver, his face slowly lowering toward hers. He’s so close she can taste the salty sunflower tang of his warm breath. They know this is wrong, but are powerless to stop it. The unbreakable attraction of north and south poles pull them closer and closer; it’s simple physics. Or was it chemistry?


With a sudden surge of reconnected electricity, the elevator car jolts back to life, breaking them from their spell. The force jerks them away from each other and Mulder tightens his grip on her to keep her from being thrown across the car.

“Are you okay?” His brow furrows again and Scully resists the compulsion to smooth the creases away with her lips.

“Yeah,” she stammers, unsure whether her heart is racing from their almost-kiss or the unexpected restart of the elevator. “Yeah, I’m fine. You?”

“I’m good.” He reluctantly releases her from his arms and stands, shrugging on his coat. She slides back into her heels and he offers a hand to help her up. The elevator sounds their arrival and the metal doors slide open. Her hand falls from his. Both know they will never speak of this again.

January 1, 1992 12:01 AM

Scully steps out of the elevator to the shouting of a familiar voice.

“Look, I know she’s here! She said she had to pick some files up and then was coming to meet me. And she never showed up! That was four hours ago. I know her car is still in the garage, so where is she?!”

Ethan is struggling with two security guards at the end of the hall, desperately trying to get past them. His face breaks with relief when he sees her coming down the hall.


Scully flashes her badge to the guards and they release him with annoyed shakes of their heads. Ethan sprints the rest of the way down the hall and pulls her into his arms.

“Dana! Are you okay?! What happened? Where have you been?!”

“I’m fine, really. The power went out and I was stuck in the elevator with…” she turns to gesture towards Mulder, only to find that he is no longer there.

12:02 AM

Mulder takes the stairs two at a time back to his basement office, determined to find out everything he can about the enigmatic elevator partner currently consuming his thoughts. He combs through the FBI’s personnel database until her file appears on his computer screen. Dana Katherine Scully: 28, undergraduate degree in physics from the University of Maryland, medical degree from Stanford, and currently an instructor at the Academy. The intrigued smile on his face grows when he comes upon a copy of her senior thesis, ‘Einstein’s Twin Paradox, A New Interpretation’. He was right. She does know things. He tucks his face into the soft woolen collar of his coat; it still smells like her.

March 6, 1992, 8:15 AM

“Are you familiar with an agent named Fox Mulder?”

Dana Scully freezes in panic for the length of her skipped heartbeat before recovering quickly with a smile.

“Yes, I am.”

What did they know? Had someone seen us? Did Fox Mulder say something about our completely platonic New Year’s elevator tryst? Surely there couldn’t be an FBI rule against huddling for warmth?

“How so?”

“By reputation,” Scully hedges carefully, praying her face didn’t reveal anymore.

8:21 AM

Fox Mulder shuffles through slides on his desk, looking for best ones to illustrate the mysterious spate of unexplained deaths cropping up across the country, connected only by the strange raised marks on the victims’ backs and an unidentifiable substance in the surrounding tissue. When Division Chief Blevins had informed him of his new partner, it took everything in him not to cuss out loud. Of course it was her. He should have known she was too good to be true. Just like Diana had been. It wasn’t random coincidence or magnetic fate that had drawn her to his hallway that night. No, she had been sent there to spy on him, to debunk his work, to shut him down.

8:33 AM

The staccato clack of stilettos on tile floor echoes through the empty basement corridor of the Hoover Building. Scully clips briskly down the hall, her briefcase slung over her shoulder. When Blevins had informed her she had been assigned to the X-Files, with none other than her attractive elevator stranger, she thought for sure that it was some kind of joke. The serious unsmiling faces of the three men in the office told her otherwise. She arrives at the office door bearing no name.

Would he say anything about that night? Will he even remember me?

She hesitates for a moment. Willing her face to betray nothing, she takes a breath and forces a neutral expression. She raises her fist and knocks.

“Sorry, nobody down here but the FBI’s most unwanted,” his muffled voice comes through the door.

She opens the door to find him bent over his cluttered desk, carefully examining slides on a light tray. He’s surrounded by stacks of binders and files, manila folders stuffed to the brim with scrawled notes on errant papers; pictures of skulls and humanoid corpses adorn the walls, along with a prominent poster of a UFO flying over trees declaring ‘I Want to Believe’. The dim lights cast sallow shadows across his face when he turns his head to look at her, still all oversized glasses, gaudy tie, and floppy hair she wants to brush out of his eyes. His cool steady gaze offers no acknowledgement.

“Agent Mulder. I’m Dana Scully; I’ve been assigned to work with you.”

She extends her hand. When his skin meets hers, she could swear she’s been burned.

eburninesonatina  asked:

For the latest prompt, can you davenchurch with 10 or 19?

Going to a friend’s wedding

“Dapper as ever, I see.”

Merle turns away from the mirror in front of him, a grin curling his lips as he moves to reply to the voice sounding behind him. The door to the cleric’s room is ajar, Davenport leaning against the doorframe with mischief dancing in his loving eyes. His hair is swept back, shiny with whatever is keeping it in place, his moustache carefully manicured to twist along with his own brilliant smile.

“I can say the same for you,” Merle replies cheekily, raising his eyebrows. His eyes skim over Davenport’s frame, a stocky, short build fitted into a glamorous tuxedo; there are golden military buttons in four columns down the front of his suit jacket, fabric an even brighter crimson against his flushed skin. “You’re looking a little flustered there, Davvy.”

Davenport snorts in response. He moves into the room. “Is that a problem?”

“I don’t know,” Merle says. “Have you been drinking already?”

“Maybe.” The two chuckle at that, as Davenport moves to wrap his arms around Merle from behind, hands clasped on his belly. “What’s a glass of wine to celebrate the occasion.”

“You could have waited for me until the reception,” Merle says. He turns back to the mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles in his cleric’s robes. His hands trace the golden thread embroidered along the hemlines of the crisp, white fabric, and he sighs. “I don’t think Killian and Carey would be too happy to have their pastor drunk off his ass.”

“They might be surprised you’re sober anyway,” Davenport chimes in. “If it’s not from alcohol, you’re just gonna hurl from nerves.”

“I’ve done this plenty,” Merle retorts in defence. “No nerves here. Just love.”

Davenport hums, pressing his face in between Merle’s shoulder blades. His thumb brushes against the fabric of his robes, back and forth almost lovingly, almost out of habit, and Merle lifts his hands to place atop his. Their fingers intertwine, old, worn wooden rings still smelling of sea salt and grainy from another world’s sand knocking together. 

“You’re going to marry everyone you know at this rate,” Davenport laughs, his voice muffled. “I mean like - officiate, not get together. You know what I mean.”

Merle laughs with him. “Almost everyone,” he says, and he raises one of Davenport’s hands to his lips, placing a chaste kiss to his knuckles. His lips brush against old wood, along with newer, barely familiar metal, cool and smooth; the band a promise to a new and different life together after the old, but just as happy. “We’ll just get Lucretia to do ours again.”

Davenport lets go, stepping back, and Merle has to hide his sigh at the loss. But when he sees Davenport’s face, it is alight with a familiar joy, one that warms his face and smooths his wrinkles, tension leaving him. He looks over his shoulder as he slips out the door, moving to join the others gathered in the chapel. 

“I’d like that.”


Revolutionary Buttons

As an addition to my humble collection of revolutionary “souvenirs”, I purchased these military buttons that were created and used during the French Revolution. As far as I can judge, they are made of copper, and both have a diameter of 2.4 mm (0.95 inches). Due to Louis Fallou’s Le Bouton Uniforme français, I was able to find out more about these militaria.

On 4 October 1792, a letter from Servan, the Minister of War, was read out in the National Convention ; therein, he reported that the National Guards, as true republicans, had demanded new buttons for their uniforms, since the current ones still bore the caption “La Nation, la Loi et le Roi”. After the fall of the monarchy and the establishment of the Republic, this design was of course no longer appropriate, which is why Servan asked for the authorisation to issue new buttons bearing the words “La République française”, along with fasces crowned by a liberty cap, or any other design which the Convention would consider appropriate. Following an intervention by Pierre-Louis Manuel, the following decree was passed:

The National Convention decrees that the buttons of all troops of the Republic will in the future have these words as a caption: République Française ; in the middle, there will be fasces crowned by a Liberty cap.

The National Convention refers, for the execution, to the executive power, [which is] obliged to give a report on it.

The decree concerning new buttons was therefore not limited to the National Guard, but extended to all troops of the young Republic. Accordingly, many new designs were created for the various troops ; while most of them had the same overall design, characterised by common elements of revolutionary symbolism (fasces, liberty cap, civic crown etc), there were differences in the composition according to the troop types (the buttons of the artillery troops, for instance, included cannons in addition to the ordinary design), and, as the designs for the infanterie légere demonstrate, even the buttons for the same types of troops had numerous different variations:

My buttons can be found among these designs for the light infantry ; according to Louis Fallou’s Le Bouton Uniforme français, the colour of this model is unknown, but it is presumed that the buttons were either white or yellow. (Personally, I tend to believe that the latter is the case, as my buttons display residues of what appears to be gilding or yellow alloy.)  Buttons with these designs were produced and used from late 1792 onwards until 1803.

Personally, while I am in general not particularly fond of militaria or the military in general, I am happy to add these revolutionary buttos to my collection of revolutionary “souvenirs”. 

What do you think, citizens? Have a nice day!


HAPPY HALLOWEEN from The Clothing Project!

Collection Highlight: 

Everyone loves a great costume, and those living at the end of the 19th century were no exception. American history, especially the Revolutionary War, became very popular after the Centennial in 1876. This interest in history is reflected in one of my favorite museum pieces I unearthed in the men’s clothing collection.

This is a replica of a Washington Continental Guard Uniform from the Revolutionary War. As I went through the collection I kept finding pieces of this costume, 16 pieces in all, from the coat and vest shown here to a hat, wig, stockings and even garters!

There was no date in the database for the costume, so I was elated when I turned over the belt on the back of the vest and found a makers label from 1897. 

Obviously an expensive costume, its numerous pieces, quality materials and subsequent care attest to that. The costume is well tailored especially the vest and coat that a stiched to fit the particular wearer perfectly. But it is not created to be an “authentic” replica of a Revoluntionary War uniform by any means. The lace on the cuffs are sewn on the coat, the buttons are just large flat polish brass, and many of the pockets are false.  But it gives the essence of a Continental Guard Uniform, perfect for whatever masquerade ball it was created for! 

Replica of a Washington Continental Guard Uniform,1897, Waring, wool, brass, L: 41.5in. Fenimore Art Museum, Cooperstown, New York, Gift of Mrs. William Bowers, N0325.1948(1). 

viridescentlights  asked:

I like how you write pining for e/é. May I please see how you spin it this time, for a Masquerade AU? Please, and many thanks :)

wow, that’s a grand compliment! (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧ i love writing pining for these two dorks

so like, this is kinda confusing—it’s my first attempt at writing something remotely resembling canon era, but at the same time, it isn’t. it’s kinda like a canon era au, if that makes any sense. idk i’m shit at writing anything that isn’t modern au so i hope this attempt is good enough!

“Look at you, gazing at that girl as if she’s a goddess.” Courfeyrac’s teasing remark brought Enjolras back to earth, and the golden-haired man blinked in surprise, caught off-guard.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Enjolras replied evenly, looking down at his feet.

The two men were idly standing about in the marketplace, observing the comings and goings of the people around them, anticipating the masquerade ball Marius Pontmercy’s grandfather Monsieur Gillenormand was holding that night. Enjolras had just been gazing thoughtfully at the lovely dark-haired young woman who was strolling through the marketplace with the blonde Fauchelevent girl before the sound of Courfeyrac’s voice caught his attention. For the past several weeks, Enjolras had developed quite an interest in the brunette beauty, whom he often saw accompanying the spirited young Cosette, with whom Marius was deeply infatuated with, in the streets of Paris, and the rest of Les Amis de l’ABC had quickly picked up on Enjolras’s growing fascination with the girl—resulting in copious amounts of relentless teasing.

He disliked it.

Keep reading


i) The coatee (detail) of an officer of the 6th Dragoon Guards (The Carabiniers). Dating to the Napoleonic Wars.

ii) A crested helmet (detail) of an officer of the 6th Dragoon Guards (The Carabiniers). Dates to the Napoleonic Wars but post the 1812 uniform changes.

Both seen at the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards Museum at Edinburgh Castle yesterday while I at work there as an intern.

Regina Mills:  Queen of the Great Coat.

Regina has some really great fashion and so often we focus on her Enchanted Forest look but she has some really amazing outerwear in Storybrooke that deserve love too.  Regina generally wears two kinds of coats, both with classic military origins: trench coats and great coats (sometimes called guard coats).  

Trench coats date back to World War I (hence the name) and have a water proof layer an inner lining and are designed for inclement weather.  Probably good for Vancouver.  They traditionally come in long and short lengths.

Eduardo seems to have some standard pieces for Regina’s outer wear that he goes to repeatedly and a few others that show up once or twice.  The classic long black trench coat was a frequent wardrobe item in seasons 1, 2, and 3A but the last time it was seen was after the return from Neverland.  There was actually a change of coats midseason 2.  The coat on the left was worn in season one and through 2.09.  It has a little less structure and slightly different flap details.  The late season 2 and season 3 coat, starting in 2.17, has a pattern on the edge of the collar that pops nicely.  It was also seen in deleted flashbacks for 4.10 when Regina turns down an offer of Chunky Monkey from the Snow Queen.  Both coats are double breasted.

For one episode we get Regina in this single breasted short trench that has less shine to the fabric.  She appears to have lost it when she was tortured and it never appeared again.  One thing I like about the trench coats on Regina is the epaulettes which are those loops on the shoulders.  Remembering that this style originates in military uniforms.  It gives her shoulders weight and is reminiscent of some of the exaggerated shoulder detail on her Evil Queen gowns.

Great coats are also military in origin and most of the outerwear Regina wears falls broadly into that category.  Great coats by definition are long usually wool coats designed for cold conditions (the reason they are sometimes called guard coats was that they were used by soldiers on guard duty).  The length I think again gives her stature which has a certain echo of her Enchanted Forest wardrobe.

Eduardo falls back on two old standbys in this range, both black though of different cuts, though occasionally Regina wears a camel colored coat in the exact same cut as her standard black.  The above coats are the identical coat in different colors (the camel appeared once in 4.18 while the black has appeared numerous times).  They both have a narrow suit style lapel which gives a classic line ans are closely tailored to her body often giving her a slimmer silhouette and are single breasted.  There was a similar but not identical coat in season 1 but the differences are difficult to show because of the color.

Regina’s second black and camel coats have a wider rounded lapel and are double breasted.  They have slash pockets that extend to the back giving a distinctive appearance but emphasizing her hips.  The camel coat was the first of the two to appear in 3.09 before not appearing again until 5.10 and 5.11.  It appears that the use the camel colored coat when they want to emphasize her relative “good”ness.  I’m not wild about these two coats mostly because i think they make her hips too bulky and the lapels feel too big to me.

During season 3 we got a charcoal colored more military cut with extra buttons and epaulettes and darting in the back.  It has echos of a World War II uniform coat and the color I think was excellent on her.  It appeared in 3.10, 3.11, and 3.15.  It was seen on the rack with the mayor’s other coats during a behind the scenes tour in season 5 but Lana was not particularly interested in talking about the mayor’s coats when she could show off the Evil Queen’s dresses.

The grey tones in season 4 were picked up by a long tweed coat which had a matching skirt when it appeared in 4.06 but was worn over a dress in 4.12.  It has a suit style lapel and gives that same slimming line.  I generally love these dark grey’s on Regina which feel like they give more character than the straight black.

Season 1 give us this light grey coat which I generally found unflattering to Regina.  It had a wide collar and appeared in 1.12, 1.15, and 1.19.

Midseason 2 brought us this black coat with gold detailing and belt.  Regina wore it in 2.10 and 2.15.  There is always a line between having too much going on and having just enough detail to be interesting and this one nicely walks it.  

There was a one time appearance of this royal blue coat in 4.11 which I think was a color choice inspired by showing Regina as heroic.  In theory I don’t object to it though I do kind of wonder about pairing it with a purple cable knit.  My fundamental problem is that it’s boxy and unflattering even if the color is good on her.

We got blue again in 5.08 and 5.10.  I think Eduardo goes to blue on Regina when he wants her to look noble.  This coat is much darker than the 4.11 coat and has a bit more of a tailored look though it’s hard to see because she only wears it briefly in both episodes and the scarf covers a lot of structure.  I’d like to see this one again maybe in better light.

And then there was the one she wore for half a seson.  I actually don’t like this one at all.  As I said above there is a fine line between enough detail to pop and too much and this one blew past the fine line long ago.  We have a leather belt and accents, she’s killed a black muppet for the collar and cuffs and it kind of looks like she had two coats on.  I’m not sure if it would have been better or worse served by not having the red filter but either way I think it was Lana’s private hell like Ginny and her season 2 pink cardigan.  

I have mixed feelings about her most recent black coat worn in 5.22/23 and now in 6.01.  Paired with the popped collar jacket underneath it gives a nice look on top but seems to lack structure below the breast.  Particularly from behind.  It does however give her substance and I think that’s one of the major things they use these coats to do.

Which is your favorite? 

Unknown Pennsylvania Zouave-Style Jacket

A blue wool short jacket with tight weave pattern sharing characteristics of late war construction, trimmed with two welts of narrow red braid (similar to Birney?s Zouaves) giving the illusion of a false vest, with distinct sky blue cuffs beneath interwoven red sleeve braiding of unknown regimental association.

The jacket combines a false vest with a true short trimmed collar, shared characteristics that cannot be documented in a Civil War context. The combination of red piped trim and solid sky blue seems to be unique to Pennsylvania Civil War Zouave regiments. Apart from the perplexing exterior details, the coat is made with glazed brown cotton lining having a single interior pocket on the left side with separate striped glazed cotton lined sleeves, a characteristic usually, but not always associated with post-war construction.The nine small eagle buttons including some others are a combination of stamped Horstmann and post-Civil War Pettibone manufacture mixed with unmarked examples. Accepting that buttons are easily substituted, it should be pointed out that the Pettibone Manufacturing Company produced military buttons from about 1880 to 1920.

A number of the post-war Philadelphia militia commands and later Pennsylvania National Guard (PNG) regiments from 1870 onwards are known to have adopted widely variant Zouave-style uniforms during the 1865 to 1872 period before the popularity waned, but details are generally sparse. For example, the Gray Reserves, later the 1st Regiment PNG wore a ?dark blue chasseur coat and sky blue facings? from 1865 to 1869. The Philadelphia Fire Zouaves, later the 4th Regiment PNG, were uniformed in a ?blue jacket trimmed with red?with sky blue vest? from 1870 to 1873. (Lacking certain provenance this military uniform jacket cannot be substantively documented in a Civil War context), while the ambiguous style and finer points of construction would seem to point to an immediate post-war time frame. Still, it is impossible to say with absolute certainty the origin and usage of the coat except to say that it is American. 

Condition:  Jacket with scattered heavy external moth damage and heavy wear inside collar, about VG-.

Frozen Date

Pairing: Klaus/MC

Summary: During a weekend, Klaus locks Randy inside the Prefect’s office until the work is complete, so that he can take Asana deep inside the Northern woods and to the spring where she nearly died. However, it is winter, and the Headmaster has set the climate to a cold and freezing winter, freezing the water of the springs and covering the usually green field and meadows around the academy.

They have been dating for at least a year and a half now.

This fic was a request by an anonymous person, I hope you like this.

Keep reading


Unfinished jacket for Laeh. I decided to do full lining except for the sleeves because I was just too lazy ><… It still misses buttons because I don’t have any good ones! \o/ I’d love some silver ones which would look a bit like decorated military buttons but not sure. Gold might be nice too. I’m also happy that I decided to keep the full-circle hem. I love how it looks!

But apparently - I had decided last night that I won’t bother with the lining… so I slimmed the back too much and now the front panel looks silly because the lining takes too much space! I think this would fit Feeple60 better but… : P Boo that! Meh, I’ll add some dark lace as decoration so it’ll be okay… maybe : P

(Also Laeh needs SHORT bangs. Like really short! And new strings and some serious sueding, poor thing doesn’t even stand without the wall)

As for the sewing music! I’m gonna see Miyavi @ Nosturi next month and I’m incredibly silly and happy about it!! So I’ve been listening to “Miyavi - Secret” on loop all day!

British swords, hat, and tin box for an officer of the Indian Medical Service (I.M.S.)

The sword with the steel hilt is a Pattern 1895 Infantry Officer’s Sword. The sword with the brass hilt is a pattern 1845/54 Infantry Officer’s Sword. Medical officers used the same regulation sword pattern as infantry officers.

British identified tin shipping container measuring 40-½" x 10-½" x 13" with 17 personal items. Top of the container has unreadable name and old shipping tag. Handle on both sides and lock on the front. Interior having maker’s tag: Bartel & Co. Tin container has several large dents, paint loss, scratches and an old shipping label that is wearing off; included within is a leather Sam Brown style belt with sword hangers, a black and silver military belt with interlocking crown and lion belt buckle with sword hangers, a military belt with missing buckle and cartridge box with cypher, two extra leather scabbards, an officer’s straight blade sword, blade is 32-½" long with a total length of 38-½" marked “E. Thurkle Soho, London”. Blade with one fuller, etched with British crown, cypher and leaves. Brass hilt with crown and cypher. Fish skin grip and wire. Steel scabbard with two hanging rings and drag; a sword with 39" straight blade with one fuller, from the same maker E. Thurkle. Blade etched with British crown and cypher, pierced hilt with British crown and cypher, leather and wire grip; a bag of souvenirs, a bag of helmet parts, a bag of plumes and military buttons, an empty can of table salt, an empty tin of cigarettes, a small box with two silk sashes, a 20th century officer’s hat with bullion crown and lion, chin strap, red lining and sweat pan, maker’s stamp on lining that is hard to read and a receipt in an envelope from a military tailor dated August 21, 1890.