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jolalibrary · 4 months ago

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19. charming blue

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter nineteen of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 4.1k chapter warnings: dad!frankie. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. flirting. they're no longer idiots. an: next week is the epilogue, and I'm crying in the club rn.

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key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

It’s been almost a year.

A thing you think to yourself as you drag the tip of your paintbrush across the cheek of the sixth child at your little homemade stand, nestled on the edge of Sam’s backyard.

It had only been built last night. You and Frankie had been inspired by lemonade stands, ignoring his mutterings about Pinterest as the two of you rummaged in his workshop, scavenging enough wood to bring it to life. Dragging bits and scraps, a saw in hand as you cut things to size, laughing as you begin grunting with each back and forth—

“Alright beaver, calm down. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Don’t worry, Morales. I'm only eager for your wood.”

You’re grateful the bruise on your hip is still healing. The one gained from a mandatory break between coats of paint, his finger wrapping two of your fingers in a bandaid. Soft kisses to the tips of them before those same kisses were on your mouth, on your neck, traipsing down your collarbone. That's when you'd caught the edge of his workbench, fingers busy with his belt, a clang, whoosh and then an ouch.

Now, dipping and swirling the paintbrush in the murky water, you feel the pain flare when you shift—hand occasionally brushing over it. A private smile forms, buried easily when another child requests the same animal.

Then, when the stripes and whiskers are complete, you can’t help but grin at the high-pitched thank you that follows, watching the child skip off, shouting to anyone who’ll hear them that they’re a lion too now—at a dinosaur-themed birthday.

Carefully, covering the orange paint, you place the lid back over the others so they don't dry out. The air is full of squeals, sugar practically on the tip of your tongue from the at-home cotton candy machine Sam's cousin is operating. You lift your head, squinting still through the shades you borrowed from Frankie to see that said cousin had given up putting it on a stick, and was instead shoving balls of it into the hands of already excitable and sugar-filled children.

Shaking your head, cleaning your hands on a rag that was now a canvas of colours, going from a pale pink to an assortment of shades, you laugh if only to yourself. Pushing the aviators up your nose, the warm plastic familiar against your skin, and catch a whiff of Frankie's cologne lingering on them—a mix of cedarwood and something distinctly him.

You had known the two of you were inching towards a year, but it had been Frankie who had brought it up first.

Whispering it against your bare shoulder yesterday morning, asking if he could take you for lunch with a kiss to your hip—having booked a table, reserved the same spot the two of you had sat at during your second date. Only this time, you took in the place even more—hand in hand—from the plants to the decor. You were less nervous than that first time, more comfortable, letting him order a range of mini plates so the two of you could sample a variety of things.

Your fork extended over the table, watching him try to chase the food you had told him he should try, before his fingers—thick, dexterous, that somehow still make your stomach flip—wrap around your wrist so he can place the fork between his teeth.

“We should come here more often,” you had said, him taking your hand in his, thumb brushing over the place between your knuckles.

“We should.”

“You gonna kiss me like you did that first time?”

Licking his lips, swiping a finger through the lingering sauce. “Can do so much more than a kiss, Rainy.”

Sighing, content—finding it hard not to smile—you glance around as the memory fades into Luca's backyard birthday party.

How laughter echoes around the fence panels, blending roughly with the music and occasionally intercepted by a squeal that makes you wince behind your shades. And you wouldn't change it, any of it. Your heart even doubles when you see Luca grinning and waving at you, as you return it before he's running off once again.

“Brought you this.”

Looking up, squinting in the sun, you see the inflated dinosaurs behind him jiggle and move in the warm breeze. Dressed in a green polo, a new fake T-Rex sticker on his cheek, you curl into his touch as his hand spreads across your shoulder.

“Oh? So you’re not here to have your face painted, Morales.”

“Not one bit—makes me itchy.”

“Not very party of you.”

Smiling, he massages a particular spot that could turn you into goo. You press a kiss to his sun-kissed arm, inhaling the scent of his sunscreen—a blend of coconut and tropical flowers that instantly transported you back to your day at the beach, laughing and holding hands as the waves crashed around you. Staring up, you want to brush your fingers through his hair, feel his curls shifting and dancing in the breeze.

“It seems to be holding up well. The stand.”

Smirking, doing a little shrug. “Yeah, it's doing good. Must have been that DIY video.”

Scoffing, it forming from the back of his throat and exiting his mouth quickly, you swear he rolls his eyes. “Wasn't the video.”

“No?”

His fingers still massaging, working the place between your neck and shoulder, jaw tight, eyes fixed on something ahead as he grumbled, “Didn't need it.”

You hum, resting your head against him, smiling, all easy, without a care in the world. “Sometimes, videos aren't all bad though, are they?”

His chin dips, your eyes fixing on the place you think his stare will be behind his own shades. Wondering, hoping he's thinking of the first time you met. The video, the one he'd made you show him so he has some semblance of an idea of what you were trying to do.

“Sometimes. I'll give you that.”

“You think next year it’ll be at yours? The party?”

He draws a circle, one that shifts into a square and then back again. “Maybe. Maybe it’ll be at ours.”

“We do need to finish that conversation.”

Humming, he smiles, lowering his mouth down to meet yours as you hear him whisper, “We do” at the same time as you both distantly hear Luca screaming for him.

“I think you’re being summoned.”

“Swear my kid is cockblocking me from finishing this conversation with you.”

“Maybe it’s an omen.”

Tapping you, you smirk—biting your lip as he grins. “Do me a favour.”

Letting him hold the back of your neck as you tip, his fingers gripping just lightly. “Anything, baby.”

“If I’m not off that in five minutes, stab it with something so it deflates.”

Smirking, you brush your fingers over his back as he kisses the top of your head. You watch him run off to the bounce house, unable to stop yourself from grinning, feeling nothing but joy as he charges in and roars.

Adjusting the party hat atop your head, you glance over and spot Sam, who mouths a thank you for the millionth time today before pointing at the buffet. You shake your head.

You’re not sure you can eat another pizza roll if you tried, but you don’t say no when she points at the cupcakes beside it.

The second cupcake is being devoured when you carry in some of the presents an hour later, placing them in the room marked Luca’s. It is so vastly different from the one at Frankie’s, yet still holds the same charm. The colours are different, if not reversed in how they’re used, the love of dinosaurs smothering everywhere it can in a similar fashion to his.

Admiring, letting your eyes wander across the photographs on the top of the little cubbies, the ones that hold multicoloured tubs with sticky labels highlighting their contents. In each frame, the people shift, from Sam and Luca to Frankie, Sam and Luca, Luca and what you assume are his grandparents, but the smile, the grin never changes. It just grows, gets bigger with him as more hair curls atop his head and his hands get larger as he waves at the camera.

“You hiding from me?” Looking over your shoulder, you find Frankie walking towards you, hands sliding around your waist as he rests his head against yours. “Well, I found you.”

“Is this the part where I scream?”

Snorting, he kisses your cheek. “If you want a bunch of tiny lions coming and stealing me again, be my guest.”

Leaning against him, fingers tracing over his, feeling his knuckles, the healed scratches and rough parts. “Hey, did you build these?” you ask, resting your head on him, his chin resting on you. “They’re like the ones at yours…”

You hear him swallow, before he shrugs. “Maybe.”

Tilting your head, staring at him, finding his eyes have flicked down even if his head is still in the same position. “Has anyone told you that you’re good at this—at making things with your hands?”

His chest fills with a breath before he slowly exhales. “I try.”

Fingers, all instinctive, slide around his chin, tug his chin down, eyes unable to not stare into yours. “I mean it. You’re really good at what you do, Frankie.”

One side of his mouth slides into his cheek, before he takes your hand, kissing your wrist. “C’mon, before there’s a search party.”

Clutching his wrist, keeping him in place. “I love you, you know?”

His lips slide into his cheek as he closes the gap, his fingers cradling your face tenderly. “I know,” he whispers, his eyes soft and full of wonder, as if he's hearing it for the first time, before he presses a slow, lingering kiss against your lips, sealing the words against your mouth.

I don’t know who is running your social account but they’re very witty.

They are. They make me laugh.

Yes, I’ve heard they have a good mouth on them.

Did you know that they’re also beautiful and very cute in the morning?

Should I be worried? They sound like a keeper.

Jealous?

Depends, are you going to make them a coffee using your complicated machine?

Maybe. They’re a bit moody without caffeine.

I’m beginning to feel offended.

I will say that you were right about scheduling them—it has helped.

Is that you saying I’m right?

Maybe.

I’ve screenshotted that as evidence.

Do you want a coffee bringing when I come to yours?

Is that a bribe to delete the evidence? Either way, that would be nice.

Good, might have already made you one in your cup.

You spoil me, Butterscotch.

It's hard not to fidget—moving from standing to pacing, to leaning.

Currently, you're back to standing in the place where the sun streams in through the open back door, casting warm, golden light across the kitchen floor, and your feet as it gently warms you—until you get too hot again.

The gentle breeze continues to bring in the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and the soft hum of distant lawnmowers which add a somewhat comforting background to the quiet afternoon. But neither do anything to stem the growing worries in your stomach, the ones climbing, doubling—

Sliding your hand around your glass, the ice cubes clink softly, slowly melting and leaving a ring of condensation on the counter. You sip the cold water, letting it cool your nerves. The anticipation builds, each second stretching as you glance at the clock, knowing he'll be here any moment.

It doesn’t work, not even as you take in a deep breath.

Trying to will tranquillity and calm to shower down over your shoulders as you glance at the clock, realising he’ll be here any moment.

And it makes your heart pound. Forces your palms to become a little more clammy as you place the glass down in its puddle.

You’ve rehearsed this. Gone over it in your head, running a hand down your outfit to flatten it—as though that would be the thing that could ruin this. Even if you’ve gone over every detail of this surprise a million times. Yet, standing in the quiet kitchen, you can’t help but second-guess everything.

What if he doesn’t like it?

What if he thinks you’ve overstepped?

What if, what if, what if—

Shaking your head, you jumble the doubts. Shake them to some other part like a snow globe, taking a reprieve from them before they flutter back down. Allowing yourself the brief chance to remind yourself why you’ve done this, why you're doing this.

Because you love him. Because you believe in him—

Taking in another deep breath, fingers flexing at your side, you force yourself to focus on the positive outcome you’ve imagined so many times, rather than the others.

Like him storming out.

Like him staring at you in outrage, questioning why, what gave you the right.

But then, this is him.

Your Frankie. The one who never needs the heating, because he’s always several degrees warmer than you, a thing you hate when he’s not sharing a bed with you—when he’s not pulling you close and whispering against your skin that he’ll keep you warm.

Or, your Frankie who grunts if he’s not awake before you, needing coffee, or breakfast. Tugging you close as he curls you under him, burying his face in your neck as he grunts that it’s too early—even if he deep down knows it isn’t.

The man who goes quieter when he’s tired, who dislikes bumper-to-bumper traffic and hammers his thumbs on the steering wheel in protest of it; who might be fiercely protective, but has never stormed out or raised his voice—so why would this even be a worry you’d have.

You jolt at the echoed familiar sound of a key turning in the front door, a flutter of excitement mingling with a rush of nerves as your thoughts fade, vanish. Replacing it with nothingness, a barren wasteland of quiet worry.

And each noise you can hear makes it worse. Makes you feel sick, nauseous, sweaty and lightheaded. Your fingers clamping to the counter for leverage—

"Hello?" he calls out, his voice carrying through the open rooms. You hear the door close behind him, the soft clink of keys as he puts them down.

"In here," you reply, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest.

Frankie appears in the doorway, his face lighting up as he sees you. "Hey," he says, crossing the room to wrap you in a warm embrace. "What’s this? You look like you’ve got something up your sleeve."

You smile, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. "Maybe I do," you tease, your heart racing a little faster.

He raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "What’s my surprise?"

Nervously, you slide the turned-over paper across the smooth counter towards him, your fingers trembling slightly. His smile, ever so warm, flickers with curiosity as his eyes drop to the paper.

Everything you rehearsed, fades, goes.

It’s like trying to grasp water, it just slides through your fingers as your hand hovers over the paper, flattening it, pressing it to the counter as though willing it to vanish. You’re thrumming, vibrating, unsure if you’ll even be able to keep your voice level as you clear your throat.

“So, you can totally rip this to pieces—but, happy six years.”

Nervously, you slide the turned-over paper across the smooth counter towards Frankie, your fingers trembling slightly. His smile, ever so warm, flickers as his eyes drop to the paper as you begin talking, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“I know it’s late, and I know it was a bit ago, but firstly, just know I love you. And I love what you do—all of it. Harolds, Instagram...”

Tilting his head, a flash of nervousness ripples out across his face. “Rainy, you’re making me nervous.”

Shaking your arms out, you smile. “Don’t be. I can be nervous, you can’t be.”

“Oh, is that how this goes.”

Grinning, you nod. His hand takes yours, his other trailing up and down your forearm as he stares into your eyes—as though trying to have a conversation with your soul. Almost commanding you to breathe, to take a second, both things you do before licking your lips.

“You’re so good with your hands—” You don’t miss his snort, “and at DIY, at renovating. That room in there, it’s beautiful, everything I thought I ever wanted.”

His eyes narrow slightly, a hint of confusion crossing his features.

“You’re good at it. So good. People are reaching out to you and you don’t even have the time.”

“I know, I just—”

“Let me finish, please baby.”

You take another deep breath, trying not to shift nervously on the spot. Sliding the paper closer to him, you press on. “You can say no. We can pretend I never did this, never even brought it up. I don’t want to be someone who makes you do something you don’t want to do, but I also don’t want to be someone who doesn’t support you, who doesn’t champion you and make you feel like you can.”

“Rainy… what’s going on?”

Biting your lip, you exhale loudly. “Turn it over.”

And he does. Dropping his hand from your fingers to do so.

All you can do is watch.

Everything seems to move in slow motion as he does so. Your heart thumping into your ribs, anxiety rippling and spreading out as it turns over and you see the moment his eyes spot it, take it in.

His eyes gaze up and down the paper, taking in the logo you’ve spent weeks on. The one with a new name, with ‘by Frank.DIY’ in the corner. Raindrops in the top corner, for you, and a flash of orange for butterscotch; tools and a house with a broken roof, details that he might not notice at first glance, but you hope he will on further ones.

Then there’s just silence.

Unreadable, bubbling silence that makes you shift. Makes your inside knot and twist as you try to give him a moment, a minute. Failing.

“I remember you told me you didn’t think you deserved to own anything. And I know you, and the others, faced a lot before I even knew your name. But, Frankie, I’m here to prove you otherwise—when you’re ready.”

His face lifts to you, the paper under his hand, fingers outstretched over it, a look so nondescript on his face that your pulse begins to pound in your ears.

Mouth falling open, you want to ask him to speak, to say something, but you’re not sure you can find the words. Having prepared for anger, for joy, but not something in the middle that was hard to label or describe.

Less so when he places the paper down. When he stands, and you subconsciously mirror him—his hand scratching the back of his neck, skin turning a shade of pink you hadn’t banked on.

“I should… I should give you a moment, right?”

Moving, stepping out from behind your side of the counter, fidgeting, moving slowly as you try to find words and form thoughts to choose a place to go hide in.

“I crossed a line, and I’m—”

He doesn’t let you go far, fingers sliding around your wrist, tugging, pausing you in your step. And it’s silent, just covered by your slight heavy breathing as your teeth nip at the skin of your lips, as your other fingers twitch nervously at your side—desperate to pick, to scratch. To anything to root—

Then, he’s pulling you flush to him, lips crashing to yours in a way that steals both your breath and your worries.

“I’m sorry, Frankie—”

His palm cups your cheeks, and tilts you to look at him. “You really believe in me.”

Heart settling, warmth spreading. “Absolutely, Frankie. I always have.” The look he gives you undoes you, makes the worries melt and instead be consumed by the need to comfort. “Have done since you measured my office without even using a measuring tape.”

Swallowing, with difficulty, he tries to smile at your joke. “I can't... I can't believe you made me this... Baby, it’s so good.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No. No, sorry—no. Overwhelmed, maybe?”

Smiling, nodding, you swallow. “Yeah, I didn’t—should have done more of a speech.”

Laughing, his eyes close, the tip of his nose brushing yours, just keeping you there, fixed, paused. Your hands slowly rise to stroke at the underside of his forearms, just like he did—the paper there, turned upright on the counter.

“Tell me.”

Two words he’s begun to say more when he can hear the cogs turning—when he can tell that there’s more bursting and bobbing around your mind.

“Frankie…”

“I know you. So, tell me.”

Sighing, you avert your eyes, when he taps your arm and you take his hand, leading him into your living room, sitting, finding further proof that it doesn’t feel half as warm as his—not even close to as comfortable.

Taking a breath, you smile. “The other week, when you asked me if I’d live with you. If you meant what you said, I’d love to live with you.” Your free hand, the one not inside his on his bent knee, raises, pausing. “But we don’t have to sell here, I’m not sure we’d make much, and that’s a decision to make to—”

“Rainy.”

Nodding, you take another breath. “Now, this is all hypothetical. It’s your choice—”

Smiling, he tightens the hold on your hand. “Ours.”

Rolling your lips, sighing. “Ours. But, we could use this house for your business—keep things here. Operate meetings from the office because it is too beautiful not to use—and you’ve worked too hard on it not to show it off. Or we can sell here, use the little that’s from it to set you up one of those summer house things so you can work from that.”

“I can’t leave Harold.”

Biting your lip briefly, you smile, tipping your chin. “He thought you’d say that.”

Brows lifting, Frankie slowly frowns.

“He's got a real eye for things—helped me with the logo quite a bit. Gave me some constructive feedback—as did the boys. I never told them what it was, but…”

“That was what Will almost dropped you in on at the fight.”

Grinning, you squeeze his hand. “I could have kicked him. Will guessed what I was doing first, I had only asked a question—but I just told them you’d mentioned rebranding. But he guessed and then he helped where he could. He's been looking at getting on your truck for you.”

Frankie laughs, raising his hand to scratch the back of his head as his nostrils flare.

“And when I nipped in to grab those bits for you, I asked Harry about working there—jokingly. I think that’s when he caught on,” you say, shaking your head. “Don’t think I’m good at surprises. But he brought it up, me working with him, that day I helped?”

“Baby…”

“Anyway, I could take your place, Harold’s would be covered still, and then when I can, I can help you—probably just with painting, think if we did any woodworking I’d slow us down.”

Frankie snorts, fingers scratching at the curls above his forehead. “I can’t ask you to give up your job.”

“You’re not. I… Frankie, I like what I do, but only sometimes. I’m burnt out. You even asked the other week if it was making me happy, and it isn’t. And, look, I’m not saying it’s forever, but for now, I can do it when I choose to, be picky. I can be an extra pair of hands when you need it, helping you get off the ground, and can use the discount when needed for little bits.”

His other hand comes over the top of the ones linked, eyes soft, gentle, and sweet.

“You’ve thought of everything.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to do it. It’s your choice—you deserve a choice, Frankie. And if you don’t use the logo, that’s fine, but I will put it on a flask for when I make you lunches.”

Laughing, he dips his head, before lifting it to meet yours. “If I choose not to do it, will you still move in with me?”

“Are you finally, really asking me?”

Biting the inside of his cheek, tilting his head to the side, he nods.

You smile, leaning closer, arms wrapping around his neck. “Well, I would love to move in with you, Frankie.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, taking in a deep breath. “Yeah. Because if it's not clear, there's not a thing I want more than a future with you, Butterscotch.”

TO THE EPILOGUE ->

do not be alarmed, we still have the epilogue. but, long time fans will know that jo is more emotional at the chapter prior to the epilogue than the epilogue. this is where my goodbye begins.

firstly, thank you. to every single person who gave me a chance to tell a hardware!frankie story, for letting rainy into your hearts, and for letting this become what it is. this is the longest thing I've written in years, and a reminder of the reason why i love writing so much.

this entire thing wouldn't be possible without @secretelephanttattoo and i will be forever grateful for her pushing me to do this, especially when i think she could tell i was swirling down a drainhole with something else. it was a raft, those cute rings you throw when someone is drowning, so thank you, my dear friend.

and, this entire thing wouldn't be what you love, if it wasn't for the encouragement from @goodwithcheese. who each week began her excitement that made me giddy, from guess the paint shade to letting me share with her my big plans for this chapter first. when i thought i was losing the path, she reminded me the path was very much there, i just needed to take a breath.

and then finally, a special thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who holds my hand a lot more than you lot thing. who read the first chapter of this when we met and got so excited with me i had to really hold back tears.

to my darling @morallyinept who told me she loves my frankie, you don't know what those words did for me on a day where i almost walked away, to the amazing and brilliant @toomanytookas who understood rainy on a level that we can both share, and to @covetyou my lo <3 for being there every week and also for understanding how conflicted and odd i feel about next week.

truly there is so many more of you i wish to thank, but i am honestly sobbing writing this. this may be the hardest pairing I've had to let go of (and i know, we have another week, but my grief has begun so.. shh).

i love you all, I'll see you next week. thank you for letting me tell a story that means more to me than there are enough words for me to explain why.

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #frankie morales #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales

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raekensluver · 3 months ago

Text

rekindled bonds (1)

introduction, part one, part two.

description: your first case with the bau team turns out to be more intense than you had anticipated.

pairing: spencer reid x bau agent!fem!reader

contains: talks of typical criminal minds violence (abductions, serial murders, etc.), a little fluff at the end.

song rec: trouble by cage the elephant- "you know what they say, yeah, the wicked get no rest"

w.c: 3.8k

an: let me know if you want to be apart of the taglist for this series! not much reader x spencer (i got carried away, whoops), this is more of a filler chapter i suppose.

the hum of the plane's engines was a soothing white noise that filled the cabin, providing a stark contrast to the caffeine-fueled chatter that had filled the bau office mere hours ago. you looked out the small window, watching the clouds pass by like cotton balls painted onto the vast blue canvas of the sky.

derek morgan, your new colleague, took the seat beside you, his muscular frame fitting surprisingly well into the cramped space. "so, you two go way back, huh?" he asked, nodding towards spencer reid, who was deeply engrossed in a book sitting at a matching table across the aisle from the two of you.

you felt a mix of excitement and nostalgia bubbling up as you turned to face him. "yeah, we were inseparable when we were kids. can you believe it's been over a decade since we last saw each other?"

derek leaned back in his chair, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "small world, huh?" he said. "i can't even keep track of half my college buddies. but you two pick up right where you left off, like no time has passed at all."

you nodded, watching as spencer looked up from his book, catching your eye. a silent understanding passed between you, the kind that comes from years of shared secrets and stolen laughter. "it's like we have a mental shorthand," you said, turning back to derek. "spencer always knew what i was thinking, even before i did."

"sounds like you guys had quite the bond," said, his eyes flicking over to the young genius. "how'd you end up here, with all the brainiacs?"

you chuckled, feeling a sense of pride swell in your chest. "i studied psychology and criminology. got recruited right out of grad school."

derek raised an eyebrow. "impressive. so, what's your specialty?"

"profiling and interrogation techniques, mostly," you replied, trying to keep the nerves out of your voice. it was one thing to know you were capable; it was another to explain it to someone with years of experience under their belt. "i've always had a knack for understanding people, even when they don't want to be understood."

derek's smile grew wider. "you're gonna fit right in here, then." he clapped you on the shoulder before standing up, his tall, muscular frame casting a brief shadow over you. "welcome to the team. we're gonna need all the fresh perspectives we can get on this one."

his words of encouragement sent a jolt of excitement through your veins. "thanks, morgan," you said, as he made his way down the aisle to check in with the rest of the team. you watched him go, feeling a mix of pride and trepidation.

with a deep breath, you opened the case file that had been placed on the table in front of you. the cold, stark reality of the situation settled in your stomach like a rock. the smiling faces of the victims stared back at you from glossy photos, each one a silent plea for justice.

spencer looked up from his book, noticing the shift in your demeanor. "are you okay?" he asked, his voice a gentle inquiry in the buzz of the aircraft.

you nodded, but your eyes remained glued to the case file. "it's just… these people," you murmured, flipping through the pages. "i've studied cases like this before, but now it's real. we're going to be the ones trying to save them."

spencer closed his book and slid it aside, his gaze earnest and understanding. "i know it's tough, but you're not alone. we're all in this together."

you managed a small smile, grateful for his reassurance. "yeah, i know." you paused, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. "but it's just so… heavy."

spencer leaned across the aisle, his brown eyes searching yours. "it's okay to feel that way," he said softly. "this job, it's not easy. it's not supposed to be. but we do it because we can make a difference."

his words hung in the air, resonating with the solemn truth of your new reality. you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "you're right," you murmured, closing the file. "i just need to remember that."

two hours later, the plane touched down in chicago, the bustling city sprawling out beneath you like a patchwork quilt of steel and glass. as the team gathered their belongings and deplaned, you felt the weight of the case settle heavier on your shoulders. the adrenaline of reuniting with spencer had given way to the gravity of the task ahead.

once you arrived at the local precinct, you were ushered into a briefing room that smelled faintly of stale coffee and stress. rows of uniformed officers and detectives filled the space, their eyes scanning the unfamiliar faces of the bau team. spencer took a seat beside you, his hand briefly brushing against yours in a gesture of comfort.

the lead detective, a stern-looking woman with a no-nonsense attitude, began laying out extra details of the case. the victims were all young women, each found in a different part of the city, their bodies slashed in a way that suggested a twisted form of ritual. the mood grew heavier with each detail she shared, the air thick with the weight of unspoken fear and anger.

spencer's fingers tapped a rhythm on the armrest, his eyes distant as he listened intently. you knew that look; he was already piecing together the puzzle, his mind racing with hypotheses and theories. you felt a twinge of envy - his intellect was something you had always admired, but also something that had made you feel a bit like you were playing catch-up.

the briefing ended and the team dispersed to their designated tasks. as you and spencer headed to the local morgue, the stark reality of the case hit you like a cold slap in the face. the smell of antiseptic and the cold, sterile environment were a stark reminder of what was at stake.

the coroner, a middle-aged man with a gentle demeanor, led you to the first body. "this is the earliest victim," he said, pulling back the sheet. "same m.o. as the others." the sight was gruesome, but you steeled yourself, focusing on the details that could provide a clue to the killer's identity.

spencer leaned in, his eyes narrowing as he studied the pattern of the injuries. "the precision of the cuts suggests a certain level of experience or a professional background," he murmured. "possibly medical or military training."

the coroner nodded in agreement, his expression grim. "i noticed that as well. it's almost… surgical in nature."

you tried to keep your stomach from turning as you took in the gruesome sight. the precision of the cuts was unsettling, each one deliberate and calculated. "anything else that stands out to you, reid?"

spencer's eyes flitted over the body, his mind racing. "the lack of defensive wounds suggests that the victims were either taken by surprise or incapacitated before the attack. we should look into any reports of missing persons or unsolved abductions that fit the profile."

his phone buzzed in his pocket, the sound cutting through the heavy silence like a knife. he pulled it out, his heart skipping a beat as he saw the unfamiliar number. "excuse me," he murmured, stepping out of the room to answer.

his voice was tight with tension as he spoke. "reid."

spencer stepped back into the room, his expression a mask of professional calm, though his eyes had a haunted look to them. "we've got another one," he said, his voice low. "another abduction, same m.o."

you felt your stomach drop. "how recent?"

spencer checked his phone again. "less than two hours ago. the unsub is escalating."

you nodded, gritting your teeth. "we need to move fast."

spencer agreed, his eyes flashing with determination. "i'll have garcia run the latest intel through the system, see if we can find any connections or patterns."

you followed him out of the morgue, feeling the urgency of the situation pressing down on you like a physical force. as you made your way back to the precinct, the chilly wind cut through your jacket, a stark reminder of the race against time you were in.

once back at the precinct, spencer wasted no time in telling garcia what he neede from her. he dove into his laptop, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he sifted through the latest data she sent. you could see the gears in his mind turning, piecing together the puzzle of the unsub's behavior. the room was abuzz with activity, phones ringing and officers moving back and forth with new information, but the two of you remained in a bubble of focused concentration.

prentiss, called everyone to attention. "we need to identify the common link between these victims and find a way to predict where the unsub will strike next." her gaze landed on you. "you're our newest addition, what's your take?"

you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of everyone's eyes on you. "the unsub seems to be targeting young women with a certain look, possibly similar to someone he has an obsession with or feels wronged by." you paused, glancing at spencer, who nodded in silent encouragement. "we should look into any recent events that might have triggered this spree - a breakup, job loss, or a significant anniversary."

prentiss nodded thoughtfully. "good point. let's get to work on that."

as the team dispersed to follow up on various leads, you and spencer remained at the board, surrounded by the stark images of the victims and the cold, hard facts of their cases. you felt a sudden pang of doubt, wondering if your theories would hold water in the face of such a cunning and elusive killer.

spencer, sensing your uncertainty, placed a hand on your shoulder. "we're going to catch him," he said, his voice steady and calm. "you just have to trust your instincts."

his confidence bolstered yours, and you nodded, rolling up your sleeves. together, you began to sift through the files, looking for any shred of information that could lead to the unsub's identity. as the hours ticked by, the tension in the room grew palpable. phones rang incessantly, and the murmur of hushed conversations filled the air.

finally, a break came in the form of a frantic call from the local pd. a suspect had been identified, a man named james conrad, with a history of stalking and assault. your heart raced as you and spencer grabbed your gear and followed the rest of the team to the suspect's house, the adrenaline making your senses sharp.

the neighborhood was eerily quiet, the only sounds the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant wail of a siren. the house was a small, nondescript bungalow, the kind that could easily blend into the suburban landscape if not for the squad cars that lined the street in front of it. as you approached, you could see the curtains twitching in the windows, a sign of life inside.

spencer's hand tightened on the grip of his gun as he scanned the area, his eyes missing nothing. "remember, we don't know what we're walking into," he murmured, his voice low and serious. "stay sharp."

you nodded, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you approached the house with the rest of the team. the silence was unnerving, broken only by the crunch of gravel underfoot and the occasional squawk of a distant bird. the house looked like any other on the block, but the knowledge of the horrors that could be occurring inside sent a shiver down your spine.

as the team fanned out, you and spencer took the lead, moving up the cracked concrete path to the front door. prentiss was on the phone with the local swat team, giving the final go-ahead for them to move in. the air was electric with tension, the kind that made your skin prickle and your pulse race.

spencer turned to you, his eyes intense. "we're going in low and fast. we need to find that girl." the gravity of the situation settled on your shoulders like a heavy cloak.

you nodded, feeling the cool metal of your gun pressing against your side. "got it."

with a swift nod from prentiss, the team moved into action. the door was kicked in, and you rushed inside, your senses on high alert. the house was cluttered, the air thick with the smell of stale cigarettes and something else, something that made your stomach turn. you moved quickly, following spencer's lead as he cleared each room with a practiced efficiency that spoke of years on the job.

the living room was a mess, newspapers and fast food containers scattered across the floor. the walls were covered in photos of the victims, their faces cut out and arranged in a disturbing mosaic of obsession. your eyes darted over the scene, searching for any sign of the latest abductee. your heart pounded in your chest, each beat a silent plea for her to be found alive.

spencer paused in the doorway to the kitchen, his gaze flicking to the basement door. "this way," he murmured, his voice tight with focus.

you followed him down the narrow staircase, the creaks echoing through the otherwise silent house. the basement was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of mold and despair. the walls were lined with shelves filled with books and knick-knacks, a stark contrast to the horrors you knew you might find.

spencer took point, his gun held steady in front of him. the beam of his flashlight bobbed as he moved, casting eerie shadows on the floor. your heart was racing, each step downward feeling like you were descending into the bowels of hell itself.

at the bottom of the stairs, you spotted a faint light coming from a room at the end of the hall. spencer gestured for you to stay put, his eyes never leaving the source of the light. with cat-like grace, he approached the door, listening intently. you could see his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, his focus absolute.

the seconds stretched out like hours as he reached for the doorknob. then, with a swift turn and a kick, the door flew open. a scream pierced the air, and you rushed in, your heart hammering in your chest.

the room was a twisted reflection of a doctor's office, with a makeshift operating table in the center. the latest victim, a young woman with matted hair and bruised eyes, was strapped down, her clothes torn and bloodied. she saw you and her cries grew louder, filled with hope and terror.

you sprinted to her side, tucking your gun into the waistband of your pants, your training kicking in as you quickly assessed her injuries. "you're safe now," you murmured, trying to soothe her as you worked to free her from the restraints. she flinched at your touch, but her eyes remained locked on yours, searching for the truth in your words.

spencer's voice was firm and steady. "we need to find james," he called over his shoulder. "he could still be in the house."

you nodded, taking a moment to reassure the victim. "help is on the way," you promised, your voice gentle as you worked to free her trembling form. "we're going to get you out of here."

spencer's voice grew more urgent as he called out to the rest of the team. "clear the upper floors and then head down here!" he ordered. "our unsub might still be in the house!"

you stayed with the victim, whispering comforting words as you worked to untie the complex knots that held her down. Her cries grew softer, and she nodded weakly as you assured her that help was on the way.

spencer's footsteps echoed up the stairs, his voice sharp with urgency as he called out to the rest of the team. "clear the upper floors, now! we need to find james before he escapes!" the thunder of boots on the floorboards above sent a shiver through the house, a stark reminder of the danger that still lurked.

you stayed with the victim, her eyes locked on yours as she clung to the promise of safety. you could feel the warmth of her tears on your hand as you continued to work at the knots. "it's okay," you murmured, your voice soothing despite the racing thoughts in your head. "you're going to be okay."

spencer's voice grew distant as he called the others down to join the search. "garcia, run a background check on james conrad. i need to know everything about him, now!" the urgency in his tone was palpable.

you managed to free the victim's last restraint, and she collapsed into your arms, sobbing with relief. "thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "thank you so much."

you held her tightly, feeling the tremors of fear and pain that wracked her body. "just stay with me," you murmured, stroking her hair. "help is coming."

spencer's voice grew more distant as he and the others moved through the house, their footsteps thundering above you. you heard the occasional crash, the sound of breaking glass, and muffled shouts as they searched room by room. the basement remained a cocoon of relative calm, the only sounds the victim's sobs and your own racing heart.

you managed to get her onto her feet, supporting her trembling legs. "we need to get out of here," you whispered. "can you walk?"

she nodded, clutching onto you for dear life as you guided her towards the stairs. every step was a victory over fear, each one bringing her closer to freedom. as you reached the middle of the staircase, you heard a thud from upstairs, followed by a muffled shout. your heart leaped into your throat.

derek's voice, loud and clear, pierced the silence. "got him! he's down!"

relief washed over you as you helped the victim up the stairs, her legs wobbly but determined. the living room was in chaos, with the rest of the team surrounding a figure on the ground. derek had james conrad pinned to the floor, his toned arms holding his wrists tight as he snapped on the handcuffs. james' eyes were wild, a crazed grin stretched across his face as he laughed maniacally.

moments later, the wail of sirens grew louder, and you heard the thunder of footsteps as paramedics and county police officers flooded the house. their arrival brought a sense of order to the chaos, their calm professionalism a stark contrast to the frenetic energy of the past few hours.

you handed the victim over to the medics with a silent prayer, watching as they worked to stabilize her. spencer took you aside, his eyes filled with concern. "are you okay?" he asked, his voice a gentle counterpoint to the cacophony around you.

you nodded, still feeling the tremors of adrenaline coursing through your veins. "yeah," you murmured, your voice shaky. "just… processing."

spencer's eyes searched yours, understanding written in the lines of his face. "you did good," he said, his voice firm and steady. "really good."

you managed a nod, the reality of what had just happened starting to set in. "thanks."

as the house was secured and the suspect was taken away, the team gathered their things, the adrenaline from the operation dissipating into a tired buzz. the sun was setting outside, casting long shadows across the floor. you followed spencer out to the waiting plane, feeling the weight of the day's events settle heavily on your shoulders.

once aboard, the atmosphere was subdued. the usual banter and camaraderie had been replaced by quiet contemplation. the team had faced the grim reality of their job and come out the other side, victorious but haunted.

spencer sat beside you, his eyes still scanning the case file, his mind clearly racing. his hand brushed against yours, a silent comfort that spoke volumes. you studied his profile, the sharp lines of his nose and jaw, the furrow of his brow as he focused on the information before him.

prentiss looked up from her own paperwork, her expression a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. "good work today, everyone," she said, her voice sharp but sincere. "especially you, agent. you handled yourself well under pressure, especially considering this was your first case." she said acknowledging you.

you felt a flush of pride at her words, but it was quickly followed by a wave of fatigue. the adrenaline was wearing off, leaving you feeling drained and a little overwhelmed. "thank you," you replied, your voice a little shakier than you would have liked.

spencer looked up from his paperwork, his eyes meeting yours with a gentle concern. "how are you holding up?" he asked, his voice low.

you took a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. "i'm okay," you said, the tremor in your voice belying your words. "just… it's a lot to take in."

spencer nodded, his gaze understanding. "it always is," he said softly. "but you did great. you saved her life."

you leaned your head against the cool plane window, watching the lights of chicago fade into the distance as the aircraft climbed into the night sky. the case was over, but the memories of the day lingered like a bad taste in your mouth. the faces of the victims, the smell of the basement, the terror in the young woman's eyes - it all played on a loop in your mind.

spencer noticed your withdrawal and reached over, grabbing your hand firmly in his. his thumb rubbed soothing circles on the back of your hand, the warmth of his touch a stark contrast to the chill that had seeped into your bones. "it's okay to feel this way," he said gently, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the drone of the engines. "it's part of the job."

you looked down at your hand in his, feeling the strength and comfort that flowed through the connection. "i know," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "but it's just…"

spencer squeezed your hand gently, his eyes never leaving yours. "it's okay to feel overwhelmed," he said, his voice soothing. "this job… it's not for everyone. but you're here, and you're making a difference."

you took a deep breath, letting his words sink in. the warmth of his hand was grounding, a lifeline in the sea of doubt that threatened to pull you under. "thank you," you whispered, feeling a lump form in your throat.

spencer gave your hand a final squeeze before releasing it, turning back to his paperwork. "just remember, we're in this together," he said, his eyes never leaving the file in front of him. "no matter what happens, we've got each other's backs."

edited 8.26.24

taglist: @yokaimoon

#spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x you #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

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daisycoloredsims · 6 months ago

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LOOKBOOK - venessa jeong's airport fits ♡♡♡

ONE: cold-shoulder top ♡ cotton biker shorts ♡ puma speedcats ♡ telfar bag

TWO: baby tee ♡ belted slacks ♡ gucci sandals ♡ shoulder bag

THREE: collared rugby tee ♡ pressed shorts ♡ chunky oxfords ♡ hermes kelly

FOUR: dress with canvas jacket ♡ platform sneakers ♡ gucci horsebit bag

FIVE: baby tee ♡ maxi bodycon skirt ♡ gucci sandals ♡ hermes kelly

SIX: knitted three piece set ♡ sherpa platform uggs ♡ hermes kelly w/ strap

SUNNIES: three ♡ four ♡ five ♡ six ♡

thank you to all the amazing cc creators! @serenity-cc @joliebean @madlensims @jius-sims @gorillax3-cc @astya96cc

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wafflepatterns · 1 month ago

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New sewing pattern <Kikyo> 3-in-1 Jacket

A new item is just released from Waffle Patterns. Meet the 3-in-1 Jacket <Kikyo> sewing pattern. This is a set of 3 items; an outdoor style jacket + zip-in/zip-out removable hood + zip-in/zip-out removable liner. Convenient and fun utility item for your trip, outdoor activity or daily use for all seasons!

You can make only an unlined utility jacket or a full set of items.

-Jacket The jacket is unlined with a zipper+button opening. There are a lot of functional pockets. Please mix and combine the pocket designs as your usage.

The waist pockets have 2 kinds of hand-warmer layer designs. One is easy to sew patch type, and one is a welt type. The chest pocket designs are 2 types, too; flap+patch or zipper type.

My personal favourite is the zipper pocket on the chest and the sleeve pocket. I find they are very handy. I always put important things here like keyholders.

There are other functional details like a back belt, sleeve pleats, or shoulder tabs. You can skip some details.

The fit is loose-regular for room of the removable liner.

-Removable Liner The liner is zip-in / zip-out type. You can attach it to the shell at the front facing with zippers supported by small buttons and elastic loops.

It has a pocket and you can use as an inside pocket.

Of course, you can skip the liner. But it is very fun to add! And pretty easy to sew compared to the shell.

Btw, it is not really impossible to wear this liner as a jacket, especially if you make both inside and out clean. But the front area of the fitting goes off, so I do not recommend it officially.

-Removable Hood The zip-in / zip-out removable hood is lined and has a front button opening. You can attach it to the shell at the neckline on the collar by a zipper. The zipper is attached to the inside of the hood, so the hood layer comes outside of the garment. I found it is functional because when it rains, the rainwater should not sit between the layer of the Collar and hood. It has a string, but you can skip this.

Please make your creative style by mixing your favourite details!

<Shell> The pattern is drafted for woven fabrics. Light to medium weight durable but not too stiff woven jacket fabrics are recommended. like denim, gabardine, twill, canvas, etc.

Please consider the fabric with some body because it has to support the removable liner.

If your fabric is very thick/stiff, please consider using other lighter fabrics partly to avoid the thick layers, like pocket flaps or layered pocket parts.

Please choose a suitable one for your design intention and how you want to wear it. I strongly recommend checking with actual samples.

<Lining for shell> The hood and the pocket bags use lining fabric. Normal lining fabrics like plain cotton or acetate will work, but functional ones like quilted or faux fur will be fun, too.

<Removable liner> The liner constructed from; -Lining fabric(outside) -Thermal lining fabric (inside when you wear)

-Lining fabric(outside) Light weight lining fabric with a smooth texture will work like plain cotton or acetate etc.

-Thermal lining fabric (inside when you wear) Consider fabric like thin quilt, light weight fleece, flannel, or light faux fur, etc.

I recommend avoiding too heavy fabrics which cannot be supported by the shell. I made one with boiled wool. It is very warm but a bit heavy. A thick quilt may be too much volume. If you want to go with a volumy liner, maybe going 1-2 size up is a better idea.

For flannel and fleece versions, I used slippery fabric for the sleeve parts of the inside liner for comfort, but maybe no need to do that depending on your intention. If you use thick or fluffy fabric and worry about comfort about this part, please remember slippery fabrics are a safer choice.

<Sample fabrics in the photos> Here is a fabric list I used for the samples. I could not get all the shops which I bought from because some are too old or from wholesalers.

- Brick orange x plaid Shell ; cotton mixed twill Liner (thermal inside) ; wool mixed flannel Liner (outside) ; plain cotton lining

- Yellow sample Shell ; light weight water repellent outdoor fabric (from kniphal.nl) I think it is not for garments originally, but not very thick so it still worked. Liner (thermal inside) ; thin pre-quilted (thin insulation like under 80g backed with satin) Liner (outside) ; plain cotton lining

- khaki sample Shell ; cotton mixed twill (from nnstoffen.nl) Liner (thermal inside) ; light fleece (from nnstoffen.nl) Liner (outside) ; plain cotton lining

The fabric choice all depends on your design intention and how you want to wear it. I strongly recommend checking with actual samples as much as possible. Also researching store bought jackets will help your ideas.

<Size>

The fitting is loose-regular. I made just size for the yellow and khaki, but the orange one is one size smaller because the liner is thinner. I strongly recommend making a muslin for perfect fit. Some of my testers made 1 size larger with a mid-weight liner. If you use very fluffy volumy liner or want to wear thick sweater underneath, maybe considering 1-2 size larger is a good idea.

-Zipper for attaching the liner I used general width (about 28mm) plastic teeth zippers. Because 2 zipper tapes come on the R-side facing(see the 1st photo), wide type zippers are not suitable.

-Zipper for attaching the hood This part is curved, so should be flexible. I used plastic teeth type and have no problem. Maybe some coil types are more flexible. But, I avoided coil type because I broke them often for some reason (maybe only me?)

Also, this jacket comes with many zipper tapes, I prefer plastic type because of the light weight.

-Other I attached the tabs on the pocket flaps. Those are pieces of folded twill tape(keperband).

<Other>

-Because the jacket is unlined, I finished the most seams with flat fell seam. If you do this, maybe it is better to add extra 2-3mm to the seam allowance. Some parts are not suitable for flat fell finish like bulky parts or armholes. I used bias tapes for armholes, and serger for bulky parts(like front yoke with flap).

-If you do not like visible zipper tapes, you can add twill tape or folded strips of shell fabric over the zipper tape.

-Some store bought jackets with a zip-on hood use a placket over the zipper. I think it is suitable if your fabric is thin. (I tried one and find too bulky)

********************* The sewing pattern includes 18 pages of instructions and all the sewing processes are described with detailed illustrations. The pattern files are available for both home printers (A4 or US letter) and copyshop(A0 format).

You can check other photos of this model on my Flickr page.

The 3-in-1 Jacket -Kikyo- (size 32 - 54) PDF sewing pattern is available here. Also in the Etsy shop.

Special discount price until 14th Oct. 2024 (CEST) with other popular patterns. No discount code is needed! The sale page is here.

***** Special offer for Paper pattern and free shipping Paper pattern + PDF option is available limited time. *The paper includes only the pattern, please print out the instruction by yourself or read it with your tablet or PC. The PDF + Paper listing page is here.

Enjoy your sewing!

(Japanese post here 日本語ポスト��こちら).

**********************

follow me! Instagram /// Facebook /// Shop /// Pinterest /// Newsletter

#sewing #sewing patterns #wafflepatterns #diy fashion #sewing pattern #other tip #jacket #outdoor jacket

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ratwithhands · 8 months ago

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Decided to polish some jacket designs!

Emmet originally received a strait from the League after they thought he posed a safety risk to others and mandated him to wear it. Big surprise, they literally just went to a Unovan hospital and asked if they had any of the old jackets lying around. It's ill-fitting and unpleasant, not to mention the hasty edits they made to his uniform to act as a secondary restraint looks awful. As much as he is still operating as usual, having to walk around in the strait is humiliating and dehumanizing, especially because of the stares from other people.

Of course this crime against dignity and fashion had to be corrected, so Elesa called her designers and offered to make the League Council a more appropriate uniform for him. The only rule given was that it must still restrain as well as the original straitjacket, so Elesa ended up modelling the jacket after a vest and the secondary restraint after a double-breasted greatcoat. It's meant to look like clothing, more like everyday wear than something out of an asylum. It also uses hand covers (i.e. socks) instead of a grossly oversized sleeve to keep the hands restrained.

It resolves a lot of the issues Emmet had with the original, namely that it blends in with the crowd rather than making him stick out. It also has an air of professionalism and formality that the original didn't have. He's much more willing to wear it and keep it on, as well as being more comfortable in it.

I'm struggling to describe this in sentences so as for the differences:

League Straitjacket:

actual retired straitjacket from hospital storage

made of old canvas and leather

uses oversized belted sleeves to restrain arms

uses belts and buckles to restrain upper arms and tighten back

can't fit anything thicker than a tank top underneath

Elesa's Modified Straitvest:

bespoke articles custom tailored to Emmet's measurements

made from stiff cotton and fabric straps

uses belted cuffs and hand covers to restrain arms

uses straps and locking slide buckles to restrain upper arms and tighten back

able to fit a collared shirt underneath

Elesa's outfit also has the added bonus of being more breathable, soft, and being able to function as regular clothes.

Anyways bonus sketch comic:

Dignity restored.

#tw straitjacket #straitjacket #submas #submas au #au #ingo #subway master ingo #ingo pokemon #nobori #emmet #subway master emmet #emmet pokemon #kudari #When they brought the finished pieces in for Emmet to try on he nearly broke down #like yes it was more comfortable‚ but the sentiment and effort put into it didn't even make it feel like it was constricting him #no matter how tight the straps are pulled‚ the knowledge that it was made out of concern for him‚ for his comfort‚ for his humanity‚#it was just like any other piece of clothing #I really wanted to draw what his first day being “free” in his new uniform was like #if only to show his relief after so long being bound like a rabid animal #unfortunately I don't have enough motivation or writing ability to pull that comic off convincingly so we just have these #I hope you guys will enjoy them though! I had fun drawing them so I want them to entertain you guys too #you guys let me know if you have questions/want to see stuff about Battle Addict‚ It's fun getting to share AUs like this #see ya later

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impala-dreamer · 1 year ago

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Cracks In The Plaster

A Supernatural Quickie

~After a long day in the car, Dean's got plans to relieve a little tension...~

Dean Winchester x Reader

763 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Rough and Yummy Motel Sex ;)

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

God it hurts but it's also really fucking good the way he's ratcheting into you, every pull out lifting you off of the wall, every thrust slamming you back into it. The plaster is groaning nearly as loud as you are and the dusty wallpaper is threatening to curl around you. The motel room didn’t know what was in store when you checked in; truly, neither had you.

Dean had turned the key, stepped back to let you in, and then attacked out of nowhere. Hours on the road with your teasing smile and flirtatious side-glances had driven him wild and the beast inside took over as soon as the latch caught.

You were in his grasp before you knew what was happening, gasping as his plump, cracked lips locked onto your pulse and his strong arms twisting around you from behind. His right hand cupped your tits while the fingers of his left hand splayed across your soft belly, teasing at the hem of your jeans.

You could feel him growing hard against your ass, denim fighting denim, heat building, breaths matched in heaviness.

“Fuck, Dean,” you sighed, moaning as he gripped your right nipple hard and twisted it into a tight bud.

“Need you,” he growled, teeth leveled at your jaw. “Now.”

A thrust of his hips made your eyes roll and you shoved back against it, rubbing your ass over his caged erection.

“You got me, cowboy…” You pushed again and his hand slid up from your tits to your throat, fingers tigtening around the sides as he yanked your head back.

“You sure about that?” He squeezed and your eyes fluttered, breath stopped for a moment. “Because I’m not gonna let you go…” With a snap, he had your jeans open and his fingers crawled inside, pressing hard up against your throbbing cunt. “Ever.”

The next few minutes were a blur. Spinning in his arms, you let go, giving yourself over to his desires, his whim. Almost too quickly, he had your shirt off and your bottoms gone- fabric twisted and damp and tossed carelessly away. He left your bra on, enjoying the way your tits looked propped up when he turned the cotton cups down beneath. He dipped his head to taste your nipples, biting and suckling until your skin was on fire and each scrape of his teeth made you wince and moan in pleasure.

Pushing your fingers through his short hair, you tugged as best you could, egging him on, silently begging for more.

“Driving me nuts all day,” he slurred, tongue heavy with lust as he shoved you back against the ugly wall by the television. “Such a fuckin’ tease…” He whipped his belt away and tugged his jeans down, letting them fall around his bowed knees.

Breathless, you chewed on the corner of your mouth and batted your lashes up at him. “Who? Me?”

Giant hands grabbed at your face, fingers curling in your hair as he licked into your slick mouth. “You.” He grit, kissing his way across your face and back as he dropped his hands to your sides and lifted you up.

Feet off the ground, you wrapped your legs around his waist, gasping as the tip of his cock slammed against your clit. Dean groaned and rolled his hips, rubbing himself through your lips, coating his cock in your wetness.

“Please…”

He pressed his tongue between his front teeth, tipped his head down to look up at you through impossibly thick lashes. “Love it when you get all whiney and desperate for me.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, clinging to the canvas jacket and layers below. “Please, Dean… Please…”

“Yeah,” he grinned, “just like that…”

And now he’s really got you. The crack of his thighs against your ass makes your body ache, the racing, frantic thrust of his cock deep inside makes your mind melt. You struggle to hold on, hands clasped behind his neck, legs dandling, feet anchored on the plump globes of his ass.

The emerald of his eyes is nearly eclipsed by lustfilled pupils and he stares at you, panting, ruby lips parted and struggling, and fuck, it’s so good.

One, two, three, and you’re cumming hard on his cock; a pathetic cry muffled by his big palm. His eyes grind into yours and he pistons a little bit faster, a little bit harder, and you’re sure the wall is going to come down around you.

“Yes…” he groans, ready to plummet, holding back just long enough to really make himself insane. “Just. Like. That.”

2023 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@aditimukul @agirlwithdemonblood @amanda-teaches @akshi8278 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @b3autyfuldisast3r-blog @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @because-imma-lady-assface @bloodline1632 @charred-angelwings @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @covered-byroses @djs8891 @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @deansyahtzee @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @iamsapphine @idreamofdeanie @ilsawasanacrobat @impalaspixie @iprobablyshipit91 @jawritter @justcallmeasmodeus @kazsrm67 @kittenofdoomage @leigh70 @lovealways-j @lyarr24 @mariekoukie6661 @maggiegirl17 @mistressofallthingsgeeky @pandaxo79 @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @roseblue373 @sacriceria @samwellwinchesterthebrave @sexyvixen7 @spideysimpossiblegirl @spnexploration @stevekempscocktails @the-wounded-healer05 @thoughts-and-funnies @vulgar-library

#spn fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x you

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freshthoughts2020 · 2 months ago

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#SACAI #+ Carhartt WIP Wide-Leg Belted Cotton-Canvas Shorts #$470 #ONLY TWO LEFT #Tie-Dyed Brushed Wool-Blend Cardigan #$1 #000

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mokkkki · 2 months ago

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I’m LOVING blood red rangers. Are there specific versions of deadpool kid and web-slinger you are basing their clothes on? Or did you have something different in mind for their outfits

THANK YOU MY LOVE!! While I def took a lot of inspiration from ATSV’s Web-Slinger concept art (go Pedro Pascal Spidey) and all the wonderful fanart I’ve been seeing recently, I don’t really imagine them to have a solid “kit” outside of their masks, especially in the earlier chapters.

The point of Peter’s costume at this point in the story is specifically to hide his identity, not to represent the new one of Web-Slinger, while Wade doesn’t really wear the full suit outside of intimidation purposes. They both wear hats (Peter has the typical cowboy hat; Wade wears a Mountie hat) and boots of some sort. I imagine Wade to wear a variety of shirts, vests, and cotton tights, and leather pants. He wears soft materials on his skin so as not to irritate his lesions. He always has a funky belt on and mixes metals. Meanwhile Peter dresses in an embroidered shirt of poor and scratchy material, the type of shirt that is cheap and replaceable, the poncho May knitted him from yarn, and canvas pants. Wade does have a mask that he wears often, but at this point of the story, Peter wears a bandana.

#moki draws #asks 🍡#spideypool #peter parker #wade wilson #deadpool #spider man #web slinger #cowboypool #This ask made me do a research binge and nothing was quite like I visualized so!! I ended up drawing it!!

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wandaluvstacos · 6 months ago

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I hath finally finished my coat. :) Just in time for hot weather lol. This thing took a long ass time because I'm an amateur and make a lot of mistakes but also the level of hand sewing I had to do got me through the entirety of the ATLA series lol.

Anyway, details:

The cloak is removable. I don't think it was originally supposed to be in the pattern but I realized how much of a headache it would save me if it was removable. I had to sew washers into it because the material is so thick that the cloak was sticking straight out instead of folding down over my shoulders.

The exterior is 100% recycled wool from Poland: https://www.woolsome.shop/product/wool-fabric-diamond-red-orange-wd-29-03/

The interior lining is damaged sari silk from India, so I got it for like $18 for 5 yards, which is pretty nice! https://www.ebay.com/str/sushilaart

The buttons are authentic horn from Lithuania: https://www.etsy.com/listing/652972697/brown-horn-buttons-with-rim-10-28-mm-4

I also had to buy a cotton interlining and horsehair canvas. I tried to keep the materials I used as organic (as in, not polyester) as possible. Outside of the recycled polyester interfacing, I achieved that (I even used 100% cotton thread).

It was not cheap; I ended up spending more money doing it myself than I would have just buying a coat, plus the many, many, many hours I sank into it, and it definitely doesn't look as nice as something professionally done, but there is a deep sense of satisfaction and joy in this coat that simply buying it would not have. I hope to wear this thing for many years, so hopefully it all works out in the end.

I am intending on making a matching belt. I bought some leather for the underside as well as a vintage 1930s belt buckle from france, cuz I'm sourcing every country on earth at this point lol.

Anyway, I made nearly the whole thing on my 1960s sewing machine, outside of any interlocking I had to do on my modern machine (it's not a true interlock stitch but it's good enough). Get yourself an old machine if you want to do thick wools like this (or pay a shit ton of money for a really nice modern machine). This thing saved me a lot of frustration.

#sewing #handmade coat

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slightlymediocree · 6 months ago

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Update 6: its done!!!!! Sort of.

I put in a new waistband, its kind of shitty but it is made of much sturdier stuff than the thin cotton voile it was previously. Im not sure what type of fabric it is, some kind of thick wool blend i think. I added a layer of thin canvas in between the fold to help it stand up because the voile waistband would fold when i bent over.

The belt/sash closure looks a bit chunky but thats just because my dress form's waist is a bit too large and it bunched up weirdly. You can sort of see the outline of the bones because i put them in very lazily. Overall im pretty happy with how it turned out!! I will definitely be incorporating each individual garment into my everyday wardrobe.

Link to the finished video coming soon!!

Date: 5/7/24

#historical costuming #fashion history #historical dress #1900s #victorian dress #early 1900s #edwardian era #victorian mourning #edwardian #sewing #historical fashion #dress history #edwardian fashion #fashion design #victorian era

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nutty1005 · 11 months ago

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Cover Story: Be True · Be You

Original Article: https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/owy5OKSTQ0GjUAMzBBbpcw Original Author: 嘉人 Marie Claire Translator’s note: The article will be published in the 307th Issue of Marie Clare for January 2024’s start of the year issue.

When I pronounce the word Future, the first syllable already belongs to the past. When I pronounce the word Silence, I destroy it. When I pronounce the word Nothing, I make something no non-being can hold. -- “The Three Oddest Words” by Wisława Szymborska

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Xiao Zhan held up a handheld fan to dry the slightly seeping sweat because of the filming. When the photographer signaled the start, he stepped forward, stepped back, walked forward again, and continued to retreat. The props on his back were like airplanes, his eyes were constantly searching for the camera, like a mischievous child exploring an unknown world. Every cycle back and forth, he was thinking about the more refined possibilities between advancement and retreat.

It’s hard not to notice Xiao Zhan’s sense of propriety. When being interviewed, he had a catchphrase: “Can I say this?” Or, as if to confirm himself, “I can say it like this, right?” He also reflects on himself constantly. For example, he would repeatedly remind himself not to let his performance become habitual. Once he would get used to it, it will develop into terrible inertia. For example, he would often emphasize that he did not like to be mysterious for the sake of it, he might not understand many truths, but he would share only his sincere daily feelings. Another example, when he heard a crew member commenting that he was always “striving for excellence”, he responded that he had not yet reached “excellence” and only wanted to “strive”.

Xiao Zhan spoke slowly and eloquently, he did not have a thunderous and fiery personality. He chatted calmly and had the demeanor of a benevolent gentleman. He was not tense at all as well. He chatted about varied topics and when he got to the point where he was enjoying himself, he naturally leaned back on the chair and gently held his right leg with both hands. The content of the chat ranged from the unchanging emotions contained in the classic songs of the times to artificial intelligence (AI), his views on human beings, as well as his own performances and life experiences.

In 2023, 3 television dramas starring Xiao Zhan broadcasted one after another. He played the colorful and vivid forefather, the lonely and cold crown prince, and the newcomer who struggled in the workplace. Every time he entered a drama group, he would dream, about real scenes and real pressure related to filming. After the dream was over, he would immerse himself into the heart of the character and perform it, leaving vivid memories and feelings.

There is a ruler in the heart and a measurement outside his body. Appropriateness is Xiao Zhan’s internal perspective, an accurate view towards work, life and he himself. Outside of the measurements is Xiao Zhan’s external perspective, the perceptive understanding of the past, time and space, and the world. Within the length of measurements, the heaven and earth appear naturally.

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Within the Appropriateness: A truly lovable character will always have imperfections

3 television dramas have been aired and new dramas are being filmed. For actor Xiao Zhan, 2023 is a fruitful year.

Occasionally, when he looked back on his career as an actor, Xiao Zhan would be in a daze for a moment. In the blink of an eye, it seemed like he had been there for a long time. Almost every time when he filmed a drama, he always had a routine: dreaming. He dreamed about memorizing lines, dreamed about going through the scenes with the director, he would even dream about taking a math test, but could not solve any of the questions on the paper, then waking up with a start.

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Xiao Zhan felt that this was caused by pressure, and he accepted it calmly. Perhaps there was another reason, deep down in his heart, he did not regard himself as an experienced actor, but always placed himself in the position of a newcomer, with an attitude of learning and exploration. Therefore, every time he would go to a drama group, he always had the experience of starting all over again.

Xiao Zhan was very wary of becoming habitual. Sometimes he would also advise himself not to give himself so much pressure, not to overthink, and to try to be more relaxed. But once he realized that he had started to rely on performance models, experiences and habits, he would again remind himself that taking things for granted would be dangerous. After a long period of habits, inertia would occur, and inertia would lead to “taking things for granted”. Therefore, every time he would interpret a role, he would always have to gain some freshness.

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Xiao Chunsheng in “Where Dreams Begin / The Youth Memories” was a character full of freshness. Because, there were extremely obvious differences between him and Xiao Zhan himself. Xiao Chunsheng was a youth in Beijing in the 1970s, which was completely different from era and environment in which Xiao Zhan grew up.

Military coats, 28″ wheels bicycles, the ice surface of Shichahai, and the transformation from a youth to a middle-aged entrepreneur, all of these were not familiar to Xiao Zhan. To this day, there were still “traces” of Xiao Chunsheng in Xiao Zhan: when it came to the character Chen Hongjun in the play, he would always say “Hong Jun’er”. Those Beijing accents, the “er” epenthesis, the “aiyoeh” and “whoa” exclamations that he practiced when filming started were all words on Xiao Zhan’s lips.

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The language, objects and period were still alright, but for Xiao Zhan, the biggest difference from Xiao Chunsheng was his personality. He is an introvert who enjoys being alone, while Xiao Chunsheng was the complete opposite, he would make many friends and overly loved to socialize. Based on today’s standards, this extreme enthusiasm often meant a lack of a sense of boundaries. “The times are developing faster and faster. Today’s youths are living a fast-paced life and will not easily cross the boundaries of getting along.” Xiao Zhan commented, “But Xiao Chunsheng is an extremely meddlesome person, so it is easy to offend others.” When he read the script, he was quite intimidated by this role and felt that it would be difficult to act him as a likeable person. But after hesitating for a long time, a thought suddenly caught his attention: perhaps, the qualities we were hesitant about today contained exactly what we need.

Off-white casual jacket Light beige shirt Dark brown trousers Light khaki canvas and leather belt All are TOD’S

Fresh and vivid, this was Xiao Zhan’s summary of Xiao Chunsheng and his contemporaries. “Hate is hate. Like is like. Don’t you think each of their colors are particularly fresh and vivid?” he asked. Even now, when thinking back to some scenes in “Where Dreams Begin / The Youth Memories”, he still felt that the characters were shining brightly, they were vivid and brilliant.

After playing Xiao Chunsheng, a person who was far away from current values, Xiao Zhan also gained something in terms of mentality: do not be afraid of making mistakes. He said: “A truly lovable character will always have imperfections.” During the filming, he once asked the director if it was particularly annoying for Xiao Chunsheng to worry so much about others. The director told him that it was precisely because of this “annoyance” that he was Xiao Chunsheng, and “annoyance” was his charm.

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The director’s words suddenly enlightened Xiao Zhan, sometimes he would fall into a strange loop, hoping to avoid and correct the imperfections of the character. “When you change it like this, the character himself loses his charm.” Xiao Zhan said, “So I think I should not be afraid when doing homework for the character, if he is enthusiastic then he should be enthusiastic, if he crosses the boundary then he should. If I always have to consider the character’s shortcomings, thinking about what will happen if the audience scolds me, then it will be difficult to act.” Because, actors play characters, not personalities.

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Not being afraid of flaws, to some extent, also meant the courage and ability to seek truth. “Sunshine By My Side” was Xiao Zhan’s first appearance in an urban workplace drama. His reason for taking on this drama was simple: modern dramas are too close to reality and everyone is living it, therefore it is difficult to perform it such that everyone believes it. Because he was not sure and confident, he firmly believed that he would learn something after “gnawing” it down. Thus, the character Sheng Yang came into being.

“Sunshine By My Side” made Xiao Zhan realize that urban dramas relied heavily on the cooperation between actors. Because it was more life-like, every detail would not be set in stone, and the lines and performances would be slightly adjusted. “We are all living people, we do not exist to maintain a persona. What everyone does, says and expresses, the emotions are all natural, reasonable, and flowing. If you change, my performance will also change accordingly.” Xiao Zhan said, this kind of creative coupling eliminates the possibility of actors being rigid and mechanical, hence it is a fresh and fun experience.

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Sheng Yang was a designer, which happened to be the job that Xiao Zhan had done before. With personal experience, flexibility during performance could be guaranteed. “When Sheng Yang wanted to draw the design sketches, I would really draw them there. Sometimes I would tell them, art director, your layers seem to be locked and I can’t move them.” Xiao Zhan recalled, “Because it was my own life, so I was more skilled at it. Can I say that? Alright.” He never forgot his sense of appropriateness even when it came to his true feelings.

Xiao Zhan was no stranger to fantasy themed dramas. “The Longest Promise” was the most recent example. For him, acting in a drama with such an imaginary background requires a process of nothing to fruition. Facing a green screen, if he had to imagine extreme weather or breathtaking scenery, he needed to create it himself. As for whether his condition was realistic and whether the emotion was subtle enough, more often than not, he had to trust the evaluation made by the director behind the monitor.

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Whether it is a ancient costume drama or a contemporary drama, Xiao Zhan always had a clear understanding when facing the script and characters. “At any one time, there are only a few good things, which is why people always say that they could only be discovered and not sought.” He recalled his observations over the years, “Some scripts may be considered good by the industry, but the market feedback may not be so good. What is everyone’s definition of good? Is it good sales or good word-of-mouth? It’s hard to judge.” Therefore, what he could do now is to return to his own understanding and feelings and choose what he thought would be the best roles. As for what role he wanted to play the most, Xiao Zhan said: “I have been mentioning it for many years, an adorable and charming villain, if I get the chance.”

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Outside of the Appropriateness: The emotions between people have never changed

When reading the script of “Where Dreams Begin / The Youth Memories”, Xiao Zhan’s mind would be filled with photos of his parents when they were young.

Dad was riding a bicycle and mom was sitting in the back seat, wearing a red skirt and a white shirt. When passing a big rock, my father took a photo of my mother as a souvenir. She smiled brilliantly at the camera, looking like a bright girl. When it was his turn to play the role of his parents in their youth, he tried his best to restore the freshness and even rashness of youth, he did not want to deliberately portray the story in a rigid and stern direction just because it was a story about his parents’ generation.

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Regarding time, Xiao Zhan seemed to have a special sense and understanding. He was sentimental and nostalgic. No matter whether he would be singing in variety shows or event, or listening to them in private, he always had a preference for old songs. They were memorable, rich in meaning, and gave him space to think.

When he was a child, he did not have much pocket money, so Xiao Zhan would either go to the video store to rent CDs, or exchange CDs and tapes with his classmates. He could still remember the prices clearly even now. To this day, he still had the CD player and Walkman he used back then in his home. Sometimes, he would return to wired headphones because they are convenient and easy to find. In the dead of night, he would occasionally think of the things that were gradually fading in the torrent of time. He was alone, with his heart flowing, this was his comfortable state.

Xiao Zhan said that he was a very homely person and when he had spare time at home, he would just work out or watch movies. He never regarded watching movies as a task, any genre, he would watch them all, regardless whether they were popular commercial movies or niche art films. Recently, he watched “Anatomy of a Fall”, which was the best film at the 2023 Cannes International Film Festival.

Around New Year, he would often revisit “Love Actually” and watch it again every two or three years. The reason was also very straightforward, the family, love, and friendship in the movie all conveyed truth, goodness and beauty, which warmed people’s hearts when watching them.

“Don’t you think that the emotions between people have never changed? Old movies will always be unearthed and watched, and old songs will always be repeatedly heard, because the emotions sung by truly classic works remain unchanged throughout the ages. Only sincerity can move people.” Xiao Zhan seemed to have a sudden inspiration and compared it with AI, “I think AI cannot replace humans. Maybe its technology can one day surpass the limits of humans, but that kind of complex emotions, humans far surpass computers. It can be said that humans are the most accurate, mysterious, and complex supercomputers.”

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Xiao Zhan would pay attention to AI, just like how he would pay attention to all new things in the world that are deeply related to people. He watched the news and read things written by AI, the depth of thought and logic of thinking made him feel incredible. Perhaps, in some job competitions, the threat of AI to human beings would already be close at hand, but he still firmly believed that AI could not replace face-to-face communication between people, whether it is immediacy or complexity.

When these distant concerns about new things were temporarily put aside, Xiao Zhan also had his own expectations for the world.

When filming “Ace Troops” a few years ago, in order to portray the image of a soldier who was concerned with the nation, Xiao Zhan observed and trained in the army for more than a week. He got up at five or six in the morning every day and ate and lived with the soldiers. After performing this drama, he felt deeply about the cruelty of war and understood the hard-won peace. “I cherish my current life more, this is the truth.” Xiao Zhan said. Therefore, the current vision for world peace, might also be related to countless people in infinite distances away.

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Regarding his own expectations, Xiao Zhan outlined it more simply: “I have done very well in 2023, I hope I can maintain it.” After thinking for a while, he added: “In 2024, I hope to love myself more, care more about my own feelings and thoughts. This sentence is not only for myself, but also for everyone.”

In Xiao Zhan’s heart, his person on screen is different from his person in real life. In private, he will not polish himself too much, nor will he dress too glamorously, he just wants to be natural and true to himself.

“Just like the current chat, similar to this comfortable state, just keep to it. I won’t change my face and portray another person.” Xiao Zhan said, “It’s too tiring. Too tiring.” He repeated twice.

A poet wrote, “My heart is slightly larger than the entire universe.” Outside Xiao Zhan’s appropriateness, there is the restraint of “simplicity” and the vastness of “universe”.

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#xiao zhan #xiaozhan #肖战 #sean xiao #Youtube

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cosplayinamerica · 2 years ago

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Mothra & Godzilla from @btanselanoican’s gijinka D&D/fantasy kaiju series // Cosplayers: @strangecatcosplay & @Fooprawn // photos: Ejen Chuang

My Mom is a skilled sewist and used to make Halloween costumes for my sisters and I when we were young. My sister was born on Halloween so we always had costumes and fun celebrations. That started my fascination with dressing up in costume and I always had fun doing it.

As I got older, my Mom taught me how to sew. In 2010 I saw Alice in Wonderland, and fell in love with the costume designs Colleen Atwood brought to the screen.

My Mom helped me a lot with making an Alice cosplay, and I went to my first anime convention. I had never been to one, and after that I wanted to go to more. I fell in love with the fun process of making cosplays and have been doing it since. It's a huge part of my life now, and I met both of my partners through cosplay.

Godzilla movies have a special place in my heart. I always loved sci-fi and fantasy, monsters and crazy costumes. Mothra and Battra are my favorites, so when I saw the designs by btanselanoican, I was inspired. It brought back a sense of nostalgia and happiness while making parts of the cosplays. I still have more details that I want to add and fix, but my Mothra cosplay is one of my favorite projects I have worked on in a long time.

It was a long process, and involved many different materials. For Mothra, I started with the wig. It involved a lot of cotton batting and white felt to build up the shape without adding a lot of weight, then shaping the wig fibers over that. I made the antennae out of wire and painted felt. The earrings are made of cut brass and painted beads. For the dress, it was a lot of patterning by pinning fabrics to my dressform, making a first draft, then using that to cut the actual fabric. I made a corset and skirt, and then the robe/dress piece that wraps over that. The skirt started out white, but was then dyed to the right colors. The sleeves were the hardest part to figure out. They were dyed and painted by hand, before being sewn to the dress. There are also a lot of appliqued gold fabric pieces on the dress. I made the belt, and all the shiny belt petals are also hand-cut brass pieces.

The wings are made of wire and old tights, that I then stitched, painted, and shaped to fit along my back.

The staff is made from a PVC pipe and foam base, then I added the electronics. There are green LEDs, and a small 10rpm motor that makes the moth wings move. I covered everything with foam strips, making them look like wood and vines. There are compartments made of foam and magnets, that way I can get to the battery pack or motor if I need to. I then added the paint and flowers. The moths are made of foam, pipe cleaners, painted posterboard, and faux fur. The moth wings are attached to the motor via some old ukulele strings. The monofilament keeps its shape and is light, but also strong. It's fed through old metal brakeline tubing that goes through the staff.

For Godzilla, it was a lot of use of canvas cotton. We found these huge canvas dropcloths at the hardware store, and they were surprisingly soft, but sturdy, after washing them. They have a thick woven texture and take fabric dye really well. We used that for making Godzilla's pants and shirt. The cape was made of thick cotton, cut, weathered, and painted. The spine has LEDs in it that go up into the hood. His chest and hip armor is all actual leather, patterned by hand and stitched together. The chainmail on the hip armor is hand made as well. His arm and leg armor is more canvas and layers of thick fabric. His shoes are leather and layered canvas and cotton. They are made by hand, and if you look on the bottom they have a Godzilla footprint.

All the "claws" on his hand armor and foot pieces are made of bamboo from the backyard. All of the woven rope pieces are cotton wrapped fleece, braided together for a thick and lightweight rope.

The sword is PVC and foam for a base. The lights are two different sets: a LED string light set, and a neopixel setup. The neopixels were soldered by hand, and are controlled by a command board that also controls a speaker. We set it to play Godzilla's roar with custom light animations. It has a plastazote foam to diffuse the lights, and then more EVA foam on top.

When I saw the designs I fell in love with the props, the attention to detail, and the use of color. Plus, I have always loved Dungeons and Dragons, so putting them into that universe was such a wonderful idea. I also look for fun challenges when it comes to props, and Mothra's staff was so beautiful. I couldn't resist.

Having experience in textile studies has helped me so much with my understanding of how different fabrics work with dyes. I used a lot of dye techniques for different parts of these cosplays. Godzilla's pants and shirt were dyed, Mothra's skirt was dyed two different times, the sleeves were dyed, painted with more dye, and then painted again. I don't think I would have been able to make my Mothra cosplay the way I wanted to without that prior knowledge and experience.

The best part is the magic staff. I am so proud of how it turned out and the way the moths move makes me so happy!

The only thing that I get tired of is that occasionally I run into things with the wire wings, and the long dress can make it hard to go through crowds in convention halls.

#mothra #godzilla #fan expo New Orleans #comic con #cosplay #cosplay interview #cosplayfeature new Orleans

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