#I was trying to source the patterned coat fabric and people are telling me about the fur

[thresholdbb]

I've made the mistake of putting myself on the greater internet for Star Trek/cosplay posting, and I'm getting a lot of dudes with the most basic, unsolicited advice ever

Should've stayed here in my enclosure

[ddarker-dreams]

Aspiration. Yandere Chrollo x Reader [COMM]

click here for part 2! 

Watching others has always been a hobby of yours.

There’s a lot to be learned from observing and watching how people behave and interact. Whether it be for your own simple amusement, or for the sake of gathering information. While some may find it creepy to keep such a keen eye out for others, you don’t look at it that way. Understanding human nature has an endless list of advantages, after all. 

It started as a small side project. When you’d stumble across information on the Phantom Troupe online that wasn’t at a ridiculous price, you found yourself looking more into them. Possible members, possible motivations, surface level stuff. The more you looked into the more you descended into a minor obsession. Questions plagued your mind about their goals, the theories you found too shallow for your taste. 

Through carefully studying their past hits, you came to the conclusion there were no patterns to be found. Nailing down the next possible heist felt like searching for a needle in a haystack, a part of you losing hope at the prospect of ever being in the same area as them. 

So you busied yourself in other ways. From digging through hours of forums and pricey information, you pieced together the most possible members. While they’re all unique in their own right, the apple of your eye has always been their mysterious leader. There have been no solid leads on his real name, much to your chagrin. 

But the leaked autopsies from what’s assumed to be his victims are fascinating. The cause of death was always different! For most nen users who kill, the method of death was typically similar with minor discrepancies. But for whoever this leader was, it almost felt like he had an unlimited amount of abilities. Was that even possible? 

The morality of his actions had never been a strong concern of yours. Wanting nothing more than an opportunity to learn more about him, you brainstormed all you could on how to gain any form of contact. That’s when you got the idea of posting information online yourself, but not about the Troupe. 

From guessing where they might strike next, you posted on hunter websites about information that they might find helpful. Important figures to expect at the events, bodyguard’s abilities that had been confirmed from previous employers. Whether or not the Troupe actually looked and used the information is a mystery, but the prospect of assisting them felt… thrilling. Like you were almost a part of them yourself. 

That leads you to where you are now. A mini road trip of sorts, your last exit approaching fast. 

The Troupe’s realm of possibilities stretched throughout the entire globe, but never close enough where you could investigate in person. But that all changed when rumors of some of the strongest hunters being hired popped up, for a museum exhibit that would be opening tonight. In your city, nonetheless! 

Securing an invitation to the event was a tedious matter, but the possible payoff was enough to keep you motivated. Though being in attendance for too long could be risky if they do actually strike, running surveillance throughout the area would be easier without having to sneak around bouncers. 

Checking your glove department, you find a blurry photo that serves as your hope. It had been posted on a hunter information website earlier today, a credible one at that. Even if obtaining it cost you a pretty jenny, you didn’t think much of it. In the image is what’s believed to be one of the members. A girl wearing a dark turtleneck with equally dark, short hair. 

Having driven around the back of the museum, you lean back into your chair. Stretching your aching muscles, you see why this area is such a hot spot. While the actual exhibit itself didn’t interest you much, it’s evident a lot of effort went into preparing this event. Limousines had lined the entrance, important individuals emerging in expensive outfits; waiting to be escorted inside. 

It’s quieter back here though, with no flashing cameras and chatty socialites. The silence gives you the opportunity to think through your plan once more.

‘I shouldn’t go in unless one of the bodyguards gets suspicious at my loitering. If I’m lucky, maybe, just maybe… I’ll see the Troupe tonight. And their mysterious leader.’ 

Rolling down your windows, you keep a sharp eye on your surroundings. Boredom never gets the opportunity to set in, your own rapidly beating heart never once slowing down. Having flung yourself into a possible lion’s den, the last thing you need to do is relax your concentration; it could be the death of you.

The exhibit opens at 8:00, and it’s currently 7:30. 

The exhaustion from the day starts to weigh on you against your will. All the preparation and anxiety leads to your eyelids feeling heavy, leading you to lightly slap your face. The last thing you need to do is loosen your concentration. That’s when you suddenly feel a strange sensation. 

Perking up almost immediately, your rapidly eyes dart around for the source of this ominous feeling. Only to find nothing out of the ordinary, your car is the only one in this parking lot. Checking your mirrors again, you catch a glimpse of what appears to be dark fabric. 

‘Am I just imagining things?’ 

As far as you see, you have a finite amount of options ahead of you. One, to ignore whatever it is you just saw. Two, to drive off as fast as you can. Three, activating your En to see if anyone is in your immediate area. Staying without doing anything doesn’t feel wise in the slightest, and driving away wouldn’t matter if it is indeed the Phantom Troupe. They’ll catch up to you before you can set any solid distance. 

That leaves using your En. 

It’s risky, but everything about this trip is. Taking a deep, shaky breath, you close your eyes. Activating your En, you feel nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe everything is getting to you after all? It is late, after all. There’s always the possibility that they’re out of your range, but if you were able to see it in your mirror they couldn’t have been that far away.

“So you are a nen user after all?” An unknown voice breaks any semblance of peace you have, scurrying your mind into action. 

Snapping your head to your left, your eyes widen at the sight of a stranger. Not bothering to take a second look, you immediately react by going to start your car. Before you get the opportunity, your car door is pried off by them with ease; their presence threatening. Hands twitching over your keys, you realize they’re faster than you are.

“There’s no need to be hasty,” A deep voice says next to you. “Move back, slowly. What happens to you all depends on your next actions.” 

All you can hear is a mantra of cursing within your own mind. Leaning back as you were told, you hesitantly look to see who your possible assailant is. Much to your surprise, it looks to be a young man around your own age. Wearing a long, leather coat with fur; raven black hair slicked back. 

‘Could this really be…?’

Given the tense situation, this individual doesn’t seem perturbed in the slightest. Is this the confidence a Troupe member normally exudes, if that’s who this is? You can’t help but feel a sense of admiration, that would undoubtedly be stronger if not for the dire circumstance. 

He helps himself to your glove department, rummaging through your insurance information. 

“Ah, your name is [First] then?” he inquires, finally breaking some of the tension in the air. 

It’s a rhetorical question, so you don’t humor him with a proper response. He studies your defensive position with analytical eyes, taking in as much information about you as you are about him. You get the feeling that in comparison to him, you’re more of an open book. 

“Do you want my wallet too?” you can’t help but inquire with sarcasm, almost immediately regretting it as his eyes widen. Why you can’t ever keep your mouth shut is beyond you, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

“This gives me all I need to know for the time being,” he states with minor indifference, waving your insurance paper with a smile. “But I appreciate the offer.” 

Humming in response to his words, you can’t help but throw in another cheap quip. “Something tells me you’re not a police officer.” 

He laughs in good humor at your biting words. “Well, you’d be correct.” 

Before you’re given the opportunity to ask who this person is, he speaks as if he knew what you were intending to ask. 

“I’m surprised you don’t know who I am, [First]. Seeing as you’ve dedicated so much time into researching me.” With this, he places the paper back into the glove compartment with a click. Giving you his full attention, you feel like every aspect of you is being scrutinized. It takes all your will power to hold eye contact, his dark eyes unlike anything you’ve even seen before.

Mouth agape, you speak without thinking. “I take it my VPNs weren’t good enough then.”

Another chuckle leaves his lips at your comment. 

“At first they were. Shalnark had difficulty finding out your identity for a while, but everything can always be traced back to its source,” he leans closer to you, tilting his head. “You’ve been an enigma to me to say the least.” 

“I feel like I should be saying that, not you.” you mumble breathlessly, the reality of the situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. This is either the worst prank in existence, or you’re actually speaking face to face with a member of the Phantom Troupe. While them tracking you down was always an unfortunate possibility in the back of your mind, you never paid much attention to it. 

“You’re free to say what you like. I don’t have any intention of killing you… unless you try something stupid,” he explains to you, straightening his posture. “But you haven’t given me reason to believe you’d do that.” 

A shaky sigh leaves your lips, your attention turning from him to the fists in your lap. Everything in your body is screaming to run, to do something, but you know it’ll be for naught. While he said he wouldn’t kill you, it’s not nearly enough to comfort you. There are fates worse than death, after all. 

“Don’t you have a crown to steal or something? Why waste time with me if you’re not going to kill me?” 

He blinks at your question, before amusing you with an answer. “I’ll get to that later. I’m more interested in seeing what you’re going to do, if I’m being honest.” 

“What I’m going to do…?” you repeat his words back aloud, hoping it’ll help you process the information better.

Knitting your eyebrows together, your mind races to make sense of the implications in his words. This must be how jesters used to feel back in the day, you surmise. Is he expecting you to do something entertaining? Well, given as there’s a solid chance you’re going to be dead in five minutes, why not.

“Alright, I’ll bite. Since I’m likely dying soon, why not tell me your name? It’d be cool to know that much in the afterlife.” 

He considers your words, before responding. “Didn’t I say that as long as you don’t act foolishly I don’t intend on killing you?” 

“I figured talking this much to a Phantom Troupe member counted towards my ‘acting foolishly’ points.” 

“Maybe it does, yes. And to answer your previous question, but my name is Chrollo.” 

The name is one you’ve never heard before. Despite only having met Chrollo a few minutes prior to now, you feel that his foreign name suits him well. Practicing the pronunciation on your tongue in a low tone, you feel a sense of pride at having uncovered this newfound information. It’s more than anyone else has learned.

Chrollo looks down at his watch briefly, before returning his attention back to you. It’s uneasy being incapable of hiding your feelings as well as he does, but you still try your best. Straightening your posture, you try to think of what to say next. This situation is one you never expected to be in. If you had known this would’ve happened, you would’ve prepared some questions at least…

He’s toying with you, you know that much. But it doesn’t seem to have any malicious intent behind it. Rather, a genuine intrigue towards your motives. It could just be hopeful thinking, but you feel like Chrollo wants something from you. Though you’re unsure what. 

“Since I shared my name with you, I believe it’s only fair if I asked you a question of my own,” Chrollo insists, your heart racing for whatever comes next. “Why is it you spend so much time assisting the Spider?” 

You blink. It’s actually a question that you’ve seen before in responses to your posts. People wondering if you were just messing with others by spreading false information, or if you’re an undercover hunter trying to fool the Troupe or something. The question never really sat right with you, since you couldn’t give a good answer to it yourself.

But now that you have a captive audience, you need to think of a coherent response. Vocalizing feelings that you don’t even understand yourself, while under pressure, is certainly anxiety inducing.

Placing a finger to your chin, you articulate your response to the best of your abilities. “I don’t think I have a solid reason. I just found you guys interesting, in a way. No one really knows your motivations, for example. It just adds this mystery element.” 

Chrollo takes in your answer with a slight frown, seemingly not expecting such an unsure response. Since you have no reason to lie at this point, you assume he doesn’t think you’re being untruthful. He’ll undoubtedly call you out on it if he thought you were being dishonest.

“And what do you think our motivations are?” Chrollo continues to press, not settling until you give a satisfactory response.

‘He really isn’t letting me off the hook easily, is he?’

“Well, that’s always been a hot topic. Typically people guess that you do it to spite the rich, or to assert power. I even read one theory that you guys were under a curse and the only way to be free is to steal rare items for the person who cursed you! Weird stuff.” you let out a shaky ramble, scratching your neck with an airy laugh.

“Is that what you believe then?” 

“Not really,” comes your response with a dismissive wave. “I could be wrong, but… I’ve always thought that there isn’t a special motivation. That you do what you want, only for the sake of doing it. There doesn’t always need to be a solid reason for a person’s actions. Sometimes… people just do things.” 

Much to your surprise, Chrollo’s interest remains on you despite your long-winded rant. Why your opinion means anything in the slightest to him is still beyond you, but he seems to be taking in every word seriously.

“For the sake of doing it, huh…?” Chrollo repeats your words back to you, considering them himself. Whatever you said must've struck a chord, as he appears in deep thought by your side. A few moments of tense silence go by, causing you to frown. 

‘Hopefully I didn’t upset him. I didn’t think I said anything that bad, though.’

“You may be right,” Chrollo breaks the brief silence, causing you to jump. “You’re a very strange person, [First].” 

“S-strange? I don’t think you have room to talk,” you blurt out before you can think twice, Chrollo smiling in good nature at your curt response. “I guess you’re kinda right though. Any normal person wouldn’t have been in this situation. I think.” 

“Anyways… since we’re doing some question give and take here, I have some of my own. If that’s okay with you.” 

Amusement flickers in his eyes at your unabashed interest. “Do your worst.” 

“So, there’s always been rumors of one member that I’ve found to be the most intriguing. I’ve seen the most speculation that it’s the leader of the Troupe, but of course no one really knows for sure.” you begin to ponder aloud, Chrollo letting out a soft chuckle at the word leader. 

“Basically, the cause of death is almost always different! I’ve heard of people having a few different types of Hatsu, but never more than two or three. It’s almost like his nen is having unlimited nen abilities? I don’t know, it’s just really fascinating. That’s the only reason that could explain it.” 

“Anyways, you’re probably not too keen on sharing Troupe abilities with a stranger. But like… blink twice if I’m right. Throw me a bone here.” 

Throughout your entire explanation, you paid extra attention to picking up body language. Just anything to see if Chrollo would subconsciously give a hint or two towards your theory being correct. But his ability to control himself is unparalleled. He only looks highly entertained at everything you say. 

“You’re almost right,” Chrollo confirms, making your eyes widen in surprise. “I would know. I’m the boss of the Troupe, after all.” 

His last sentence repeats like a mantra in your mind, your jaw loosening as you realize the full impact of them. 

Not only are you speaking to a member of the Phantom Troupe, but you’re speaking to their leader? This definitely wasn’t what you were expecting when you woke up today. Had you have known you were speaking to the leader, you may have been more polite. 

‘Oh god I’m so fucked.’

“Okay, uh, Mr. Chrollo. Sir. I now just realized I’m definitely gonna be disposed of. So. I have a business proposition. I have a pet cat at home, and if I die, he’s gonna starve. If it’s not too much trouble, can you set him up with like a meal service or something? Here, let me get my venmo…” 

“I’m still not planning on killing you,” Chrollo refutes with a shake of his head at your insistence on the matter. “Though I suppose it’s understandable why you would be worried about that.” 

“So torture it is then?”

“It hadn’t crossed my mind.” 

“Oh…” 

Pursing your lips, you lean back into your seat with a deep sigh. This entire ordeal has been the most stressful time of your life, if not the most notable. The sides of your head feel like they’re pushing against your brain, a massive headache on the way. Sliding down in your seat, your eyes flicker to the time. 

7:43.

‘It’s felt like hours! Only thirteen minutes, huh? I guess time doesn’t fly when you’re speaking to a murderer.’ 

“I do believe it’s my turn to ask you a question now.” Chrollo states, leaning back into the passenger’s seat as if it were his own car. The way he speaks commands such respect, you wonder if it would be impossible for anyone to refute him. You certainly weren’t going to test your luck.

At your lack of rebuttal, he continues. “Why go through all this trouble if not for money? Or prestige?” 

‘Why is he so intent on giving me a midlife crisis?’

“If I had wanted money I would’ve posted detrimental information about you guys,” you respond with an unnatural ease. “But most of the people who do that end up dying. And prestige? Who cares what a bunch of strangers think about me. It’s not gonna do me any good at the end of the day.”

Shaking your head at the thought, you continue. “No, none of those things matter that much. I only wanted to appease my own curiosity. To learn what others tried, only to succeed where they had failed.”

Chrollo hums in response to your heartfelt words. He takes a moment to consider them himself, before leaning in closer to you. At the sudden, unexpected movement; you can’t help but flinch. 

Instead of causing you any harm, he gently places a strand of stray hair behind your ear. Your face ignites in warmth at the tender gesture, your tongue failing to form any coherent words. His cologne almost dulls your senses, overwhelming presence leaving your eyes wide as saucers.

He looks at you with a knowing smile, before retracting his hand and sitting back in the seat. Your hand shakily touches the same area he did, in wild disbelief. 

‘What just happened? Am I dreaming?’ 

“To be truthful, I’ve known about you for a while before now, [First]. I’d been intending on meeting you at some point. It just so happened that everything fell into place the way it did.” Chrollo informs you, serving only to befuddle your feelings further. 

“You’ve fascinated me in the same way I have you. Observation can serve an important purpose, but I’d longed to pick your brain in person instead. Thank you for indulging me.” 

“I-I really don’t know what to say,” you stutter out in response, swallowing thickly. “I knew spending ten dollars on a VPN wasn’t going be enough.” 

“I would’ve found you regardless.” 

‘Good god what is happening? When did breathing become so difficult?’ 

“Oh... well that’s... good to know I think?” 

Chrollo looks at his watch yet again, and you wonder if it means anything detrimental for you. Realistically speaking he probably needs to rekindle with the rest of his group before performing whatever heist they have planned. 

“It looks like our time together has almost run out,” Chrollo says, a soft sigh leaving his lips. “I hadn’t realize how much time went by.” 

Your hunch now confirmed, you once again go over your options. Should he try to do anything to you, there’s still a chance you could make it to the front of the museum in time to alert the bodyguards. If you’re crafty enough, that is. Whether or not you can think coherently in this state is up in the air, as your eyes flicker momentarily to the door handle. 

Hand twitching, you exhale shakily at the thought of your backup plan. What else is there for you to do? Although you’re afraid to test out who’s faster, since you get the feeling it isn’t you. 

Chrollo shakes his head at your obvious thoughts, reaching forward to lock the doors with a dreadful click. 

‘There goes that idea.’

“Still thinking of how to get away, hm?” he asks in a chiding tone, a blush returning to your cheeks at his words. Chrollo seems capable of reading you without even having to try, as frustrating as that is.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do exactly?” you counter, your words coming out shakier than you had hoped. The underlying sarcasm is still there, even with your waning tone. 

“You could come with me instead.” Chrollo offers, in a way that seems too genuine to make any shred of sense. 

“What?” you choke out, spluttering at the implications of his words. 

“Exactly as I said. I’m interested in you, and you know enough now to be considered dangerous,” Chrollo states as if it were obvious. “I know I phrased it like a question, but it’s not exactly a choice."

“In that case, I can’t really say no can I?” you mumble, grasping your hand to hopefully stop it from shaking. Control of your body had slipped through the cracks, leaving you in a constant state of alertness. 

“You could, but I wouldn’t recommend it,” Chrollo looks at you in a way that shows he’s already won. “Instead, you’ll do this.”

“I already have someone monitoring you here -- so running won’t do you any good. Sit here and wait for me to come back. You can do that, can’t you?” 

Biting your lip, all you can do is nod your head. It’s better than dying, you figure. 

Chrollo seems content enough with your obedience, sliding over to leave the same way he had came in. Before he leaves you to your own thoughts, he offers a final quip.

“We’ll have a lot more discuss while we travel together, [First].”

[nuttystrawberrysalad]

All About Knitted Hats

Quarantine has sparked plenty of new at-home hobbies. Maybe you picked up a paintbrush and tapped into your inner artist. Or, you might have transformed your kitchen into a bakery. For some, perfecting their knitting and crocheting skills even led to a business — which is why you're likely seeing the knit hat trend unexpectedly taking off on Instagram.

For Delsy Gouw, founder of Brooklyn-based label Its Memorial day, crocheting started out as a fun activity. "[It] originally started as an online Depop vintage shop [in 2019] but when Covid hit, I wasn’t able to source any goods," she tells TZR. "I also lost my job and found myself with a lot of time on my hands." Gouw picked up the old hobby of hers and began making items for friends, and then her friends' friends were requesting pieces, too. She then began crafting knit hats because she believed the demand was there. "I started with bags but when I posted them so many of my friends and followers asked when or if I’d be open to making hats and taking customs for hats," Gouw tells TZR. While trends typically fade away and come back later on, Gouw hopes this style will stay long-term. "[I] can’t speak for knitting, but the way crochet is done is truly so intricate, unique, and is made to last," she explains. "Crochet can only be done by hand so I think there is something special about having an accessory that is unique and handmade." Fans of Gouw's emerging brand include influencers like Reese Blutstein, Jo Rosenthal, and Ella Emhoff.

Who knows when the first person decided to put something over their head to keep it warm, but knitters know that knitted hats for women are some of the most fun and easy things to knit.

When they’re worked in the round there is little in the way of shaping, except when you get to the crown.

Most hats are worked from the bottom up, with stitches cast-on and worked in a snug stitch pattern such as ribbing, or in stockinette for a rolled bring hat, using a smaller size needle than is used for the head portion of the hat.

In many hat patterns, the hat is worked straight for the desired length of the crown, then nearly all of the stitches are evenly decreased over the course of just a few rounds.

The yarn is cut, the tail threaded through the remaining stitches, pulled tight, and fastened off to the inside of the hat.

The hat can be topped with a pom pom, i-cord, tassel, or whatever embellishment strikes your fancy.

A great book for learning to make hats is Ann Budd’s Handy Book of Patterns, from which some of the material on this page is excerpted. There are chapters on basic hats as well as the type of hats called “tams.”

There are several types of hats, but the most popular knitted hats for men are beanie-type caps, tams (sometimes called “berets”), slouch hats, earflap hats, and tuques.

Beanies: These hats can be super simple or dressed up with a lace or cable patterns. In cooler climates, they’re wonderful gifts for knitters to make.

Tams/Berets: There are so many different stitch patterns to use in this style. Tams and berets can be plain stockinette or intricate Fair Isle. This style of hat is really flattering on just about every face shape, too.

Earflap Hats: These hats are popular in cold climates. They’re great for keeping ears warm and they’re fun to knit. The knitters of Peru specialize in these hats, as shown in the photo at right.

Often a knitted hats for children will have a finished size that is smaller than the average adult head. That’s because hats meant to fit closely at the brim need a bit of negative ease to help them fit snugly and keep them on the head.

The amount of negative ease refers to the difference between the finished size of the object and the size of body part on which it will be worn. A hat that measures 19″ (48.5 cm) around and is worn on a 22″ (56 cm) head has 3″ (7.5 cm) of negative ease.

A beret-type hat might have negative ease at the brim, but a few inches of positive ease in the body of the hat. The extra fabric is what creates its loose, flowing shape, while the tighter brim keeps it fitted to the head.

Hats are a natural for circular knitting (or knitting in the round). This project for circular-knit adult hats offers three brim styles: hemmed, ribbed, and rolled stockinette. Whichever brim you choose, the directions call for shaping the top. Work this hat in plain stockinette stitch in a colorful or fashion yarn, or customize it by working the colorwork pattern included here. But don’t feel tied to those two options — use this hat as a canvas to express yourself.

If you knit the hat on one 16-inch circular needle, you’ll need to switch to double-pointed needles (or one of the other methods) at some point during the crown decreases because the stitches will no longer reach comfortably around the needle. It is easiest to knit hats using the magic-loop method with one long circular needle.

Choose a size

Determine the circumference you want for the hat. Most hats should be knit with negative ease (. Measure around the widest part of the intended wearer’s head and subtract 1⁄2 to 1-1⁄2 inches from that measurement to calculate the hat circumference.

A hemmed brim is not as stretchy as a rolled or ribbed brim, so it’s best not to include too much negative ease when using this hem.

Choose yarn and determine the gauge

Yarn for adult hats can run the gamut from practical to frivolous and fun. If you want a warm winter hat, for example, choose a yarn that is warm and durable, and knit it at a tighter gauge than recommended on the ball band. This results in a denser fabric that better retains heat. If, on the other hand, you are creating a fun accessory, you might choose a fashion yarn that adds a little flair. Because this hat is such a simple shape, it’s a great way to show off variegated or self-striping yarns.

To keep cool but stay warm during winter, you can’t skimp on great outerwear or outfit-making boots. The same goes for cold-weather accessories too: Because for the majority of the season, coats, boots, and, in this case, winter hats do most of the talking when it comes to bundling up while keeping things stylish. In order to break free from your standard winter-outfit formulas—and to keep your looks from looking like, well, everybody else—consider accessorizing functionally and fashionably this season. Here, find four headwear trends not to be missed, and shop 24 of the best winter hats, inspired by the most stylish women on the streets, from New York to Paris.

Buckets and Beyond

After runway debuts at Fendi and Loewe, the winter-ready hand knitted hat took over the streets last February—and this season the ’90s trend has continued to gain momentum. From shaggy faux furs to fuzzy angoras, from shearling to sherpa styles, the winter bucket hat is one of the cutest and coziest accessories of the season.

The ribbed-knit beanie has earned its place as a winter style staple for everyone from downtown urbanites to alpine skiers. New Yorkers might prefer sleek styles in a neutral color palette like black and speckled gray. Meanwhile, a pop of color would bring the perfect amount of joyous street-style-inspired Scandi chic to any drab winter look. And for those who wish to channel a bit of après-ski flair in their daily commute, look no further than one with a floppy, fluffy pom-pom.

The trapper hat is no longer just for the rugged outdoorsman or Elmer Fudd. Not convinced? The trapper has been deemed stylish enough for even the Parisians—in fact a black faux-fur version was spotted on the streets topping off a geometric-print coat, leather pants, and blue ankle booties for the ultimate in warmth and style. Et voilà! Not to mention everyone from classic winter-weather brands to It labels are backing the trapper trend—Heurueh, Kule, and R13 to name just a few. You heard it here first: The trapper is the ultimate winter hat for women this season.

On the tiny Peruvian island of Taquile, a man's worth isn't measured in his ability to hunt or fish, but in his ability to knit.

Alejandro Flores Huatta was born on the 1,300-person island, which is located on the Peruvian side of Lake Titicaca, a three-hour boat ride from the nearest city of Puno. The 67-year-old learned how to knit the iconic chullo (a tall, floppy Andean hat) as a child, with his older brother and grandfather teaching him by using the thorns of a cactus as knitting needles.

"Most of the people learn by looking, watching. Because I don't have a father, my older brother [and grandfather] taught me to knit. So by watching, I learned little by little," he said, speaking through a Quechua translator.

Taquile is famous for its textiles and clothing, and while women weave and tend to the sheep that provide the wool, men are the ones who exclusively produce the island's knitting cap for baby. The chullos are seen as culturally significant, playing a key role in the island's social structure and allowing men to show their creativity while also displaying their marital status, dreams and aspirations – some men even use it to show their mood. It's a tradition that islanders are working hard to preserve.

Residents were relatively cut off from the mainland until the 1950s, and the island's isolation has helped to keep its heritage and way of life intact. Locals abide by the Inca code of "Ama sua, ama llulla, ama qhilla", (Quechua for, "Do not steal, do not lie, do not be lazy"). Taquileans are farmers traditionally; the six island communities take turns to rotate crops of potato, corn, beans and barley in terraces on the mountainsides. They raise sheep, guinea pigs, chickens and pigs on the land and fish in the lake. Tourism kicked off in the 1970s, giving locals a source of income with tens of thousands of visitors drawn to the island annually to tour the villages and surrounding lake. Visitors typically stay with locals in humble, family-run accommodations; lend a hand-harvesting crops; try local specialties like fried trout and potatoes with rice, beans and mint tea; and purchase the island's famous handmade textiles.

Hats reveal men's marital status, dreams and aspirations

In 2005, Taquile's textile art was deemed so valuable that Unesco deemed it an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. Alejandro is one of the seven men on the island recognised as a Master of Textiles, along with the island's president, Juan Quispe Huatta.

The tradition has been around for the better part of 500 years, with roots in the ancient civilisations of the Inca, Pukara and Colla peoples. The Inca in particular, used their headdresses in a similar way to the Taquilean chullo, to display the specific insignia of their particular province – but that’s where the similarities end. The Taquilean chullo and the Inca headdresses look vastly different. The elders of the island tell of the chullo design arriving with the Spanish conquest in 1535, and Alejandro's grandfather passed on stories of the early conquerors wearing similar hats that were white with ear covers, "but not the same patterns or symbols," Alejandro said.

[dimpledinnie]

hiraeth - yang jeongin

hiraeth- (n) A homesickness for a home you can't return to, or that never was.

summary: The world has always been divided. Not by race nor by species, but by season, with borders dividing the drastically diverse climates. Crossing into non provincial land would rob someone of their life, but despite knowing that, the feeling of finding an entirely different world creates a craving far too strong to ignore. But maybe it’s the person on the other side making that curiosity so insatiable.

pairings: yang jeongin x reader

before I start, I want to thank you jihyung​ for helping me write this story. I have been wanting to write a story for the longest time but I never got to do it. I’m so very excited to be working together with him to write this story. We hope that you’ll enjoy this story as much as we enjoy writing them 💞

Chapters: Intro 1 2 3 4

"Yeji, I'm not going any further." You panted, placing both arms on your knees as you lowered your body to catch your breath. Your best friend stopped in her tracks and looked back at you, her ponytail flicking away the snow that was coming down softly.

"Come on, you said you wanted to go for a hike! Hyunjin and Chan are already way ahead." Yeji pouted, both of her hands now across her chest. You slowly straightened your back and looked at her with desperate eyes, and she rolled her eyes, knowing what exactly that look was telling her.

"Look, I'll just go back down to the shop we passed before and wait there,” you suggested, referring to the small hiking shop near the start of the hiking trail. “You can go after the boys and call me when you're on your way down."

Yeji looked at you, letting out a sigh knowing that she wouldn't be able to change your mind even if she tried.

"Fine, but you're getting me a hot chocolate in return," she huffed. You nodded your head vigorously in return, even giving her both thumbs up. You were rather excited to sit down, and it was written all over your face.

Yeji gave you a soft smile before turning around to call out for her brother, Hyunjin, to wait for her, who was already halfway up the stairs stopped, shouting at her to hurry up. She quickly ran up the stairs two steps at a time, and you watched fondly as she disappeared behind the railing.

You made your way down the stairs and back to the hiking trail as you said you would, making sure to really take in the scenery that you have missed trying to keep up with your three eager hikers. Tall trees lined the hiking track, all equally covered in thick layers of white powder. You reached out for one of the branches and gave it a little tug, watching the snow glide off the bare branches. The falling snow collided with your hoodie sleeve and you let out a little squeal, feeling the coldness seeping into the fabric and onto your skin. After shaking it off, your eyes started to wander behind it, where numerous rows of similar trees stood. As you looked closer into the woods, you noticed that one of the trees had a blue ribbon tied around its trunk. There was another following the first one, then another…

"A trail?" you mumbled to yourself; you knew you weren't supposed to, but with your curiosity at its peak, suddenly you found yourself on the other side of the fence. You followed the trail, the hiking track slowly disappearing behind you as you eagerly headed deeper into the woods. As you continued on, the trees slowly started to sprout… little plants on top of them, just like the ones you had seen on television. Sure, you’d seen these… leaves, were they called? You had seen these before, in photos, videos, movies, what have you, but never did it strike you that these were real.

You reached out to hold the nearest leaf between your fingers, and immediately its texture and temperature shocked you. It felt something like a mix between paper and cotton, and as your nails pressed into it, a hole tore through the material, startling you. They were delicate and secreted some type of water when broken.

Fascinated, you slowly moved to the next tree, whose branches held more, bigger leaves, and even had a small creature slinking along the wood in a strange fashion. It was maybe an inch long, bunching its string-like body into an arch before flattening to move forward. Your hand reached forward to touch it, and it happily climbed onto your finger. You looked closer to see that it's patterned green skin had little hairs sticking out of it, but the strands were very spread out and thin, like the ones on the spaces between your knuckles, and it didn’t seem to have a mouth. At least, not one you could see.

The snow on the ground began to lessen until it was gone completely, more greenery coating the ground. Your hand allowed the little creature to find a new place to rest in the grass, as it was called, as you swept it under your palm, feeling the silky, almost sticky texture.

A new creature came your way, this one with a concerning amount of eyes.

Your startled confusion had made you completely unconscious of what is around you until you tripped on what seemed to be a rope. You fell face-first to the dirt, letting out a small groan. You pushed yourself up with both of your arms and turned your head around, looking to see what it was you had tripped over. A low hanging rope fence came to your vision, which extended both ways as far as you could see. A sign reading the words "winter border" hung loosely in the middle of the rope, seeming unkempt and unattended to in the way it almost touched the ground.

"Are you okay?" A foreign voice spoke behind you and you let out a yelp, scrambling to your feet and jumping behind the fence before whipping your head towards the source of the voice.

Just a few feet away stood a strange looking boy, dressed in a pale yellow shirt paired with some light blue jeans. His fox-like eyes grew big and he had both of his hands in front of him, his rosy lips slightly agape.

Were you hallucinating? Yeah, that was definitely it. You had absolutely no explanation for how the… the thing in front of you looked like a human, but had glowing amber eyes, hair as brown as wood, and rather skin the colour of coffee. Not to mention how so much of his skin was exposed, and he didn’t seem to mind. There were even a few marks spread out along his arm.

“Are you okay?” he asked, craning his neck to look at you from other angles. “I heard something fall and came to see if everything was okay, and…”

"It's okay, I-I’m" You reassured the boy, but it was more for yourself.

The both of you stood there in silence, the rope fence the only border separating you. He took a few step backs and moved back behind a similar looking rope fence. You looked him over once more then back at the fence, and he seemed to acknowledge your confusion, opening his mouth to speak.

"Well as you can see from the sign, this is… this is the border between winter and spring. To remind people that in a meter, they will reach the line."

"What line?"

"The line that really separates the winter from the spring." He stopped for a moment before continuing, "You're not supposed to go beyond a meter from there because the drastic temperature can and will kill you. No one’s survived going more than five meters before." He explained.

"Wait, wait,” you laughed nervously. “So you're telling me I almost died?"

"I don't know how to put it in a nice way, but yeah, pretty much. That's why I ran over as fast as I could when I heard you. I had to stop you from crossing the line before… you know."

You paused, taking a moment to yourself to process what he had relayed to you, the overwhelming amount of information poking at all sides of your head. Slowly, as you let them in one by one, things started to make sense. You looked in front of you, seeing how snow stopped falling not too far from the line he mentioned. Behind the boy the forest continued, but changed drastically. The trees no longer had their familiar poking pines but rather the soft leaves you had just observed, riddled with small creatures you had never seen before.

Your gaze dropped to beneath his white sneakers, where there was actual green grass, greener and fuller than what you had seen behind you. It was something you had only observed on television and, like the leaves, had previously no idea even existed. The sky above him was blue and bright, and you could almost make out the faint sounds of animals chirping and singing in the background.

"I-I guess I owe you one for saving my life. Thank you..." You tilted your head slightly and pouted your lips, dragging out the last word for him to insert his name into your sentence.

"Jeongin." He gave you a warm smile, dimples poking out from both his cheeks.

God, you were such a sucker for dimples.

"...Jeongin,” you repeated, trying the sound out on your tongue. “Thank you, Jeongin. I’m Y/N, nice to meet you."

"That's a pretty name." His response immediately sent blood rushing towards your cheeks and you dropped your head low, trying to cover up your red cheeks.

Seeing your reaction, his eyes widened.

“You’re turning red, you need to go back,” he spoke fearfully. “Please, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

"No, no, I’m...” you let out a breath. “I’m okay, I’ll just…”

You took a few steps back, now there being two meters between the two of you. It felt too far for comfort.

“I just… I didn’t know seasons were real. How do you know so much about them?”

“There are people that defend the borders to keep us safe. My dad is one of those people.” He turned to point at a tower behind him that you wondered how you hadn’t noticed. “He watches from there. People usually come to the border, start to feel ill and turn back, but he’s there watching in case someone goes too far.” He let out a sigh. “There's so many things I want to teach you… How much time do you have?"

"I have all-" you were interrupted by the sound of your phone going off. “Sorry, sorry, I have to get this quickly. Hold on.”

He nodded understandingly and you quickly pulled out your phone from your hoodie pocket, sliding the answer button, hoping to finish the call soon so you can listen to what Jeongin had to say.

"Y/N! We decided not to go all the way up so we're coming down now!” Yeji’s overexcited voice came suddenly, startling you and making you hold the receiver a bit further from your ear. “Better start ordering those hot chocolates, Chan and Hyunjin want some too! See you!" "

“Yeah sure. See you,” you responded, feeling low that you had to leave Jeongin now. Yeji and her oh, so perfect timing.

"I take it that you've got to go?" Jeongin asked, pouting slightly, and you gave him a small nod.

"Meet me here tomorrow?”

[kindofaslutformichaelmyers-2]

Blood and Wine, a Hannibal x Reader

In honor of me getting back on Tumblr, here’s a Hannibal x Psychiatrist!Reader fic. This is SFW (although I can make a part two if you like it) 

Warnings: personal injury, alcohol, use of drugs (normally, I would never, but Hannibal canonically is known to make use of them), implied murder

Enjoy :)

_______________________________________________________________________

Music poured from brightly lit windows outside the Maryland townhouse, the harmonies of many-stringed instruments reaching my ears. I did not feel as though I should be there, nor did I quite understand why the invitation was extended to me. Nevertheless, the thick yellowed cardstock stated its intentions quite clearly; I was invited to a dinner party, 9:00, at the residence of Dr. Lecter, my friend and colleague. I knocked on the door, once, twice. The door swung open, flooding me in light.

“Dr. Y/L/N! I did hope you would come. Please, come in!” A tall, handsome man stepped aside to allow me into the threshold. His face was darkly attractive, and he was dressed sharply in a deep, wine-red suit with a black dress shirt. 

“Dr. Lecter. It’s lovely to see you again, thank you for the invitation.” 

“Please, it was my pleasure. May I take your coat?” His voice sent shivers down my spine. With a smirk composed of teeth just slightly too sharp, he helped me slip out of my thick overcoat and hung it. “Shall we?” 

I took his arm as he led me to the sitting room, the source of the music and the location of the party. There were women in lace and silk, soft furs and fabrics of every kind, hair plaited in complex patterns. There were men in dark suits of satin and velvet. And the food! Oh lord, the food, elegantly plated on china and glass, spattered with red sauces and rich glazes. 

“Oh, Hannibal… It’s beautiful.” 

“Yes,” he acquiesced, my eyes lifting to meet the gaze that was already upon me. “Yes, it is.” 

Another rapt knock on the door stole away the company of my host, and I joined the nearest group of socialites, attempting to tame the thudding of my heart. A waiter passed with glasses of chianti, and I took one gracefully as he passed. 

Imitating the pompous demeanor of the group, I drank, and listened. Underneath the questions of everyday life and which-concert-you-went-to talks, though, I heard whispers. Rumors, gossip, the real thing that the rich came to do. 

“Did you hear that the FBI consults him?” “Did you know that he saved my life?” “I heard he isn’t as kind as he seems” “I’ve heard-” “Did you know?” “He has a dark side” “I wouldn’t get too close”

A gentle hand was placed on the small of my back, a man’s hand, by the feel of it. My attention was suddenly back with a vengeance, focused on the hand. Hot breath grazed my cheek as my new company leaned in to whisper. 

“Care to join me for some hors d’oeuvres?” my host hinted, voice deep and low, as sultry and many-layered as the wine in my glass. A shock of electricity shot through me. Hannibal’s hand pressed, ever so softly, and my body followed his faintest suggestions as he led me through the crowd. “Here, try this. Heart tartare.” 

He raised a small shell of tartare to my lips and I obliged without a second thought. It was delicious, of course, complex in many ways. 

“Wow… that’s amazing, Hannibal.” 

“Thank you. I have to go check in the kitchens. Pardon me, please.” 

I approached the nearest circle, still dazed but somehow also hyper aware of everything. My pulse was racing, the many voices becoming blurred, but each face was sharper in definition than a movie screen. I was greeted with cheery hellos, probably the result of a little too much champagne already. They were curious about my job, my family, my hobbies, etc. Curious about how I met Hannibal, as if that would explain the way he was behaving, standing not even inches away from me when he could. As if we were together. Of course, it would have been most interesting for people to hear about a love life between the host and a mysterious guest of honor. Unfortunately, I was just another psychiatrist. 

Hannibal’s familiar hand came to rest between my shoulder blades, warmth emanating from the spot. I prayed he couldn’t feel my racing heart. Our conversations continued, entertaining me with their attempts to have me admit to something that wasn’t reality. The closeness of my colleague did not help the case I was attempting to make. And yet, after fifteen minutes, I was bored, and the tapping of Hannibal’s fingers on the nape of my neck alerted me to the fact that the center of the room had been cleared. The music had stopped. 

Hannibal had swept in front of me, bowing deep. The crowd gasped in fascination. His hand was held, extended, for me to take. “Care to dance?”  

With the cue from the orchestra, I was swept into a waltz formation, my partner’s right hand holding my own while the left rested on the small of my back, holding us so that our faces were mere inches away. A soft “oh!” of surprise left my lips. 

The music started and we moved, my feet following Hannibal’s with a grace I never knew myself to possess. I found it hard to break away from his scarlet gaze. 

“I’m still not entirely sure why you invited me tonight, Dr. Lecter,” I murmured, low enough that the crowd would not hear. 

“That wasn’t obvious?” 

“No,” I replied, embarrassed. 

“I enjoy your company, Y/N. You don’t ask me such redundant questions,” he answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And I consider you a friend.” 

My heart leapt into my throat as I was lowered into a graceful dip, Hannibal holding me securely. Against my better judgement, my fingertips crept up to his face, trailing along his jawline. His face angled to bring his lips to my ear, his breath creating a  barely audible whisper-

“Join me, after the party. We need to talk about something.” A soft kiss was planted on my collarbone, and my whole body buzzed with electricity.

With that, the waltz was over, and he vanished as suddenly as he had been appearing. 

His absence left me with hundreds of questions, and about ten-thousand emotions as the crowd bombarded me with questions about our dance. To name a few, I was confused, frustrated, curious… and also, quite a bit more aroused than I’d have liked to be. As much as I tried, I couldn’t shake the image of his hands on me, his lips (which had been so close just minutes ago) pressing into my skin. Against my better judgement I indulged in another glass of wine. 

“I hope you know that you aren’t special. To Hannibal, I mean,” a rude woman from the crowd with a sharp, unpleasant face jeered, interrupting my thoughts. 

“Of… course I don’t, we both just have mutual admiration for each other’s practices. I… I don’t understand where you’re coming from.”

“We all saw the way he looks at you. I’m just telling you that he bores easily.” Her face was pulled into a grotesque sneer. I wanted nothing more than to gouge her eyes out. “Honestly, I can’t even see why he invited you.” 

“Look, okay? I didn’t ask for an invite. Why don’t you bring it up with him if you don’t want me here? I didn’t get my fucking doctorate for some asshole to come up to me and tell me that I don’t deserve the attention and respect of my colleagues! I do!” I could feel the heat rising within me as my voice began to shake.

 I trembled with rage. My hand constricted harshly on my wine glass and it shattered, shards falling and slicing my palm. For a second, it was difficult to distinguish the deep red from my blood. Tears of humiliation gathered in my eyes. “Fuck off. I don’t even know your name, you bitch.” 

Gentle hands came to rest on my shoulders as Hannibal looked deep into my eyes, his irises glowing red with the reflection of my blood. 

“Y/N, I need you to take a deep breath. It’s going to be alright.” I nodded. A cloth was pressed into my hand softly, to stop the bleeding. “Have a seat. I’ll be right with you.

“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, but the night is over. Please take a favor from the parlor as you make your way out. Elizabeth?” he addressed the pointy-faced bitch. “I would appreciate it if you could join me in the kitchen for a word.” His gentle ease and poised demeanor had the crowd following his instruction, filing out, as he led Elizabeth away. I wondered why. I hoped it wouldn’t make me jealous. 

I knocked on the kitchen door before entering and received a ‘come in,’ so it couldn’t have been anything lengthy. The woman was nowhere to be seen. 

“Have a seat, Y/N, I think that I can fix your hand right up,” Hannibal, cool as always, motioned. His kitchen was meticulous, and yet the only thing I noticed was that he was now missing his suit jacket and had rolled his sleeves up to his forearms. 

He was gentle with my hand, never using too much pressure, always making sure that I was okay as he removed the slivers of glass with silver tweezers. He had certainly earned his license. Finally, my palm was wrapped in soft gauze. He planted a sweet kiss on the bandage.

“Where did that woman go? I didn’t see her leave,” I asked, still feeling pangs of jealousy. 

“She left through the backdoor. I didn’t want her to cause any more of a commotion.” 

“What did you talk to her about?” I continued, still not satisfied despite the rudeness of my question. 

“Her attitude. She isn’t allowed to treat my guests like that.”

“But-” 

“Y/N,” he interjected calmly. “Normally envy isn’t a pretty face. You seem to be immune to that effect. Would you like a cup of tea?” He offered. 

“I… yes, but… I’m not envious of her!” I watched his movements, entranced by the simple elegance of his process. 

“On the contrary, it would appear that you are, indeed, quite jealous. I’m actually rather flattered that you think me worth of jealousy. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been trying to grab your attention all night.” 

A teacup of steaming mint waited for me on the counter. I took a sip before continuing. 

“But... she told me I was a phase.” 

“She and I were never an item, if you’re asking. She tried to make it happen, but I am not attracted to her in any way. Intellectually she was quite dull.” 

“And…” I took another drink from the cup. 

“You are not a phase in my life. You’re quite beautiful, worth much more than just a phase. You’re worth all of my attention.” 

The blood rushed to my face. “Hannibal, I… I find you very attractive as well. I’ve actually had feelings for you for a long time, I just…could never find the words... what’s that?” My eyes focused on the tile of the floor next to a shelf, currently seeping with viscous red liquid. I stood, but got a head rush, dizziness blurring my vision. 

“Hannibal, what did you…” black dots spotted my sight as he swooped in, picking me up bridal style. The teacup slipped from my hand and shattered on the ground, my consciousness fading into darkness.

[himluv]

Indulgence

Oh, well, hello there! Would you like some Solavellan? Yes? Well, me too! *offers fic on silver platter*

Set a month or so after Excuses. Enjoy!

Riallan stood in the gardens of the Winter Palace, trying to decide if she would rather vomit on the rhododendrons, or punch the nearest Orlesian in the face.

“Do try to look less murderous, my dear,” Dorian said from beside her. “You might not notice, but behind those hideous masks, you’ve frightened every noble in attendance.”

“Good,” she growled. “They should be afraid of me.”

He patted her shoulder. “Well, I do love a good political suicide. Let me know if you want any pointers.” He shot her a salacious grin, and then moved off to mingle with the gossiping Orlesians. She watched as women tittered and men scowled at the mage. They were curious about him; it was so rare to have a Tevinter at the palace. He was a novelty, something dangerous and exotic.

She was just a rabbit. And a savage one at that.

“He has a point,” Solas said from behind her. That would be his place this evening, and she hated it. She knew he was just playing his role as her ‘serving man’, a title she had staunchly refused when Josephine had proposed it. He had overruled her.

She turned her face just enough to meet his eye. “Ame tel’nuvena’ea min’an.” Not like this, not in some shem dress playing some stupid shem game. She wanted to burn the palace to the ground and take back what had been stolen from her people. This was Halam’shiral. It was supposed to be the end of their journey, the start of the elves’ new sovereignty. Instead it was a monument to some shemlen empire that built itself on the backs of her people.

“I know, vhenan,” he said. His voice was low, and the tenderness in it soothed her. “You are right to crave justice. And the surest way to attain it is to defeat the Orlesians at their own Game.”

She nearly groaned, though remembered not to at the last minute. He was right of course. She and Josephine had trained for weeks for this event, teaching her to carry conversations in lilting, cyclical patterns, never providing a straight answer. It was exhausting, but she had to admit she found the challenge satisfying.

And she had proved a quick study.

The harder lessons had been the dancing. Shemlen dances were so… boring. Every move was calculated, adhered to some rule. There was no carefree lifting of the spirit, no joyous leaps or claps, no pounding feet to the rhythm. Just lifeless twirls and limp hands touching across great distances. She was not looking forward to that aspect of the evening.

“Show them you are a woman to be feared,” he whispered, suddenly so close she felt the heat of his breath at her ear. “Find me later.”

And then he moved on, walking by as if they hadn’t spoken at all. She watched him go, so tall and upright in that ridiculous red suit coat, and though the humans were oblivious due to the shape of his ears, she saw the threat in his walk. In the way his hips moved as he wove between shem after shem too careless to see him. But it didn’t matter, the message wasn’t for them.

It was for her.

It had been a foolish risk, but the Orlesians were too self-involved to notice the whispered pause at her ear. If it hadn’t been for the ridiculous coat and sash, none of the party guests would look at him at all. He would have preferred it that way.

He had business that evening.

Once the Inquisition had been formally announced, he removed the hat Josephine had insisted on, then found a quiet alcove where he undid his sash and turned his jacket inside out. Without the glaring red fabric he had a better chance to walk through the palace unnoticed.

The Winter Palace was a lovely enough building, and the rumors he heard as he paced through the halls were delightful. He was certain Lady Nightingale would appreciate anything he could share, even if many of the names were meaningless to him.

Though he was an elf, and no human seemed to note the differences in his appearance from the other servants, the city elves knew he was not one of them. They kept their distance and cast distrustful, yet curious glances. They could not fathom what he truly was. To them his people were little better than a myth. A legend of a time when the elves had been the dominant race in Thedas, a fairy tale to tell sleepy children. But there were a few who knew him for who he was.

Of course he had his own agents within the palace. Not many, only two were working the ball, but it was enough to leave a door open here, ensure a window was unlocked there. It took less than fifteen minutes for him to leave the main party, duck through the servants’ quarters, and then climb a trellis to a second floor balcony. Once on the second level he found the third door on the right unlocked.

Within was what he’d searched for since he awoke from uthenera. An eluvian leaned in a corner of the room, a sheet thrown over it haphazardly, so that only a portion of the glass was covered.

Even without approaching it, he felt its power. The gentle thrum of magic called to him, as if it wanted him to touch it. Of all of the ancient artifacts left from Elvhenan, the eluvians remained the most intact. Though many of them were dormant or destroyed, those that were whole functioned no differently than they had before he’d raised the veil.

It was miraculous, and incredibly fortuitous for him.

He stepped up to the mirror and pressed his palm to the glass. Instantly the magic reacted, the glass liquifying under his touch and roiling with power. He focused, listening to the hum of energy and channeling his will into the mirror. He did not think Briala would come up with a strong enough password for the mirror to prevent him from overriding it, but he was weaker than he had ever been before.

He stood there with his eyes closed, nudging the magic of the eluvian, for much longer than he would have liked. But when the mirror flashed a bright blue in answer to his call, he grinned. Then he heard the echo of Briala’s password in the mirror’s power and laughed.

A blessing indeed.

After asserting his control over the eluvian once more, it was a simple thing to rejoin the party at large. Don the foolish cap, turn the coat right side out, and find a nice, inconspicuous spot from which to enjoy the festivities. By the time Riallan found him leaning against a statue with a view to the courtyard, he was on his third glass of wine and had just eaten a delicious little frosted cake.

Needless to say, he was in high spirits.

“There you are,” she said as she joined him. She was resplendent in a gown of gauzy white and sea-foam green, with silver beadwork on the bodice. What little there was of it. Unlike many of the gowns in the palace tonight, this one was cinched at her waist, but left loose to flow about her legs like fog. It made it seem as if she were gliding everywhere she stepped. The plunging neckline and high slit at her left thigh gave daring glimpses of her figure, glimpses he was all too happy to appreciate.

Judging by her blush, his attentions had not gone unnoticed. “I hope you’re being treated well,” she said. A servant with a tray of wine glasses went by, and he snagged one for her before the elf vanished down the hall.

“Reasonably,” he said and handed it to her. “The nobles ignore me, though I notice their curious glances. And the servants seem happy enough to fill my glass.”

She gave him a knowing smile. “Solas, are you drunk?”

He snorted. “Hardly.” Then he considered it. “Maybe a little.” A slow grin claimed his lips and he let his eyes linger over her. He waited until she took a sip of wine to say, “I do adore the blend of power, intrigue, danger, and sex that permeates these events.”

Riallan choked into her wine, a sound startling enough that several pairs of eyes turned to look at her. And while she was the Inquisitor and a source of curiosity for the Orlesians, she was speaking to her ‘elven serving man’; surely nothing interesting could happen between them.

It was a sort of dare. How close could he get, how salacious his looks, before the humans caught on? Before rumors started in earnest? On another day he would have avoided such complications, but tonight, after his success and his indulgence?

What was one more?

He was gratified when Riallan recovered, took another sip of wine, and smirked at him. “Been to many such events, have you?”

He was lucky, and he knew it. She trusted him, believed all his tales of adventures in the Fade. And while not wholly untrue, it wasn’t quite the truth either. And yet the excuse poured from him as if by second nature. “In the Fade I have had many opportunities to witness such splendors. Throughout time the powerful remain the same, only the costumes change.”

The bell rang, calling the attendees back to the main ballroom. She looked over her shoulder, and then back to him. “Do you have any interest in dancing?”

“A great deal,” he said. Then, because he knew he ought to, added, “but dancing with the elven apostate would grant you few favors with the court.”

She rolled her eyes and took another sip of wine. She seemed hesitant to leave him, as if being close to him anchored her in the sea of masks and lies. It made his heart ache in his chest, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to dance with her in front of each and every human there.

“Perhaps once our business here is done?”

She smiled at him, a slow secret thing that promised something much more tantalizing than a simple dance. “I’d like that,” she said, and then turned away to march back up the stairs and to the ballroom.

He did not bother hiding his interest in her retreating figure. He wouldn’t have been able to keep his eyes off of her even if he tried.

Riallan was pretty sure there was blood on her dress. She had tried to keep from making a mess, but the evening had other plans. She leaned against the balcony railing, taking solace in the solitude, and downed another glass of wine to settle her nerves.

She had done it. She had outed Florianne in front of the entire court. She had forced Celene, Gaspard, and Briala to work together. And she had uncovered that no one in this whole Void-damned country was truly innocent. Each noble she’d met, even the Elven Ambassador, had done terrible things in the pursuit of power.

And now the question must be asked, was she doomed to become one of them?

She almost had that night. It would have been so easy just to let Celene die and clean up the mess after the fact. She had almost agreed to the plan. It was Briala’s deceptions that changed her mind. Not because she particularly thought that Celene deserved to be saved, but because she didn’t think her other options were truly any better.

Maybe all together, they would cancel each other out.

Music came through the door behind her as it opened. The silence of the footsteps on the marble gave him away. She smiled at Solas as he joined her at the railing.

“I thought I might find you out here.” He had that silly hat on again, and she couldn’t help but laugh. She snatched it off his head and threw it off the balcony. Let someone find it in the gardens tomorrow morning and they could speculate what had happened. Something untoward no doubt.

“Good riddance,” she said.

He laughed, and it was the open, free sound like when he was in the Fade. “I doubt Lady Montilyet will agree.”

“You let me deal with Josephine.”

His chuckle faded as he watched her, and then concern tinged his expression. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “Yes, just tired. It was a very long, very trying day.” Well, night. It had been daylight when they arrived at the palace, and now the sun tinged the sky, promising a new day.

“You did well,” he told her. “I suspect very few would be able to convince these three to work together.”

“I’m not convinced it will work, but it’s enough for now. Orlais is stable. Corypheus will not gain traction here.”

His hand reached out to rest on her ribcage. The gown left her sides and back mostly exposed, and the warmth of his palm on her skin set her blood alight. “Come,” he said. “Dance with me, before the band stops playing.”

She let out a huff, part laughter, part exhaustion, but said, “I thought you’d never ask.”

He swept her into the middle of the balcony, her gown swishing across the stone, and for a moment she felt as if only his hand on her low back kept her from floating away.

He spun her in slow circles, his posture formal and upright, his arm held high as he led her along with the lilting strings from inside the ballroom. She hadn’t expected such practiced ease, and at first she was disappointed. She didn’t want to dance another stiff and cold shem dance, but as he spun and twirled, his hand firm on her back, she finally understood the appeal.

It felt like flying. Her feet moved but she didn’t know how, she just followed him, went where he guided. It was a complete surrender, an act of trust that made her head spin and her heart soar. The song faded away, but he didn’t let go of her. Instead he pulled her close, his arms around her waist and swayed with her, dancing lazy circles on the balcony.

Riallan draped her arms around his neck and lay her head against his chest. She was tired, physically and emotionally, and in this tender moment she wasn’t sure what feeling would win out. As the weight of the evening crashed down from her shoulders, she took in a shuddering breath, battling senseless tears. Solas ran a hand up and down her spine and hummed one of Maryden’s slower songs, soothing her.

The moment overwhelmed her, and there was only one thing to do. She took his face in both hands and kissed him, hard. She didn’t have words for him, at least not any that could do all her feelings justice. So she poured it all into him the only way she knew how.

Solas accepted her every confession, his lips and tongue moving with hers just as easily as he’d led her through their dance. She lost herself in the heat of his mouth, in the wine-sweet taste of him, and the press of his arms around her.

They’d stopped dancing, and her nails scraped at the back of his head. His hands began to wander, his fingers exploring all the skin the dress left bare, until they were both gasping.

The music was louder for a moment, but Riallan didn’t think much about it. At least, not until she heard Dorian’s voice.

“I thought I’d find— vishante kaffas!”

She pulled away from Solas, both of them staring at the door to the ballroom. Dorian stood there, a wine glass in each hand, and a horrified expression on his face. He looked from her to Solas, then back again. His mouth opened, closed, opened again, and then, “ah… I’m interrupting. Obviously.” He cleared his throat. “I was going to suggest we celebrate,” he lifted the wine glasses as evidence, “but it seems you already are.” He shot Riallan a glare that said she would have to tell him everything. Soon. Then he stepped back into the ballroom, taking both glasses with him.

Riallan looked at Solas and burst out laughing. For once his cheeks were just as pink as hers, and the sticky gloss Josephine had insisted she wear glistened on, and around, his mouth.

He gave her a half-hearted glare and wiped at his mouth. He pulled a face at the gloss on his fingers. “So much for keeping this secret,” he said.

That only made her laugh more, and he couldn’t keep from smiling at the sound. She pulled him back to her, shared another, brief kiss, and sighed as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Can we go home now?” She asked, but a yawn interrupted the words.

“I think that’s reasonable,” he murmured into her hair. But already his heartbeat at her ear was lulling her into the Fade. “Come, vhenan,” he said. “Before we cause another scene.”

She hummed, but stepped away from him. “I still think these humans could use a proper, elven scandal.”

His laughter followed her back into the palace, warming her when the marble walls left her cold.

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 61: Ряженье

Table of Contents. Second Instar, Chapter 28. Go to previous. Go to next. TWs: Needles, drug use. Preparations for the nuclear winter solstice.

_______________________________

A tall figure moved about Reese’s dwelling, tending to various materiel, some salvaged, and the rest likely requisitioned from the Deenwood Compound. ‘Choly stepped inside at a caution, rubbing at his shorn neck. He eyed the open space, expecting Reese. His face drooped when the figure faced him. Theirs mirrored his, their mouth open only partly as they eyed him.

‘Choly ineffectually cleared the viscosity in his mouth. Like Bones, Reese had not yet put their mask back on either. He scarce could recognize the Furriers’ leader from his memory of them at the Unfolding, though the vibrant purple and green garments seemed similar to what they’d worn the first time he’d met them. Terrence and Irene’s body now met near full, standard symmetry, save Irene’s extra eye in their left cheek.

“A Vault Dweller, then.” As Reese spoke, ‘Choly noted they had retained their lemniscate dentition. The eight foot tall figure’s lips became a thin line, and they unstuck to pull back their two-tone hair and pace. The smoke had remained to their voice, though now with a neatness to modulation and trachea it had not held prior. “This is where you slept. Are there other officers in your Vault?”

His gaze fell anywhere but on Reese.

“...A JAG Corps lawyer,” he answered, after doing everything he could not to think too hard about the two enlisted. “Really, it’s just me now. Is it a problem?”

“It simply explains a great deal about you. Deeper than the surface. Take, for instance, that you first made yourself more recognizable as an officer when we first met, sooner than wear something with distinct protective benefit. Either you valued concealing your involvement with a Vault, or you did truly awaken very recently, and have no concept yet just how valuable a Vault Suit even is.”

“It’s really nothing that deep,” he lied, laughing off being read. He rubbed at his upper arm. “I just had to change because my uniform to ruined at The Unfold--”

Reese guffawed, transfixed with enthusiasm, and turned heel with an intense glare.

“You see why we discard it all so far in advance! Tell me The Unfolding was everything you expected, Colonel.”

Locked up how to even begin to reply, ‘Choly nodded emphatically, eyes wide and obeisant as he looked up at Reese. Every other Furrier had grown more asymmetrical, more arcane, more everything from The Unfolding, but not their sachem--and somehow, that beguiled him more than anything about the whole ordeal. They clapped their two hands together with urgent delight, flashing him back to gravity.

“It warms me, to know this. We must discuss battle strategy. Earlier you sounded like you had a plan. The General will be contributing her service.”

‘Choly shifted between enamorment and frustration.

“I’m glad we’re in agreement. I’m getting a little tired of being told what I’m supposed to accomplish only after I’ve been cornered into agreeing to it.”

Reese calmed in the rebuff.

“It’s only right.”

‘Choly detailed his understanding, but he lost track of everything spilling out of him, troubled by his infatuation with Reese prior to The Unfolding. Or rather, its absence--now that Reese looked comparatively normal, the magnetism had faded. A recap of everything Liv had discussed with him came, without him really grasping he’d articulated it. His brow strained. He felt more predatory than usual, how his attraction to Reese could simply evaporate in a matter of hours.

He realized at some point that Reese and he had both spoken, but he retained nothing from the exchange. The dialogue waxed looping and incoherent in places, for both of them even, perhaps. At one point, he could have sworn Reese went on that the memories of the Rust Devil tributes had dispersed throughout the Furriers, and that they’d gained gained some tactical advantage in this way. He glanced down at his Pip-Boy, wondering with a petulant absence if he could attribute this brain fog as a side effect of the X-Cell-Squared wearing off. The vitals menu either yielded cryptic results, or his faculties had waned that thin.

Fidgeting idly, he noticed the device had saved a draft. He nodded to himself. It comforted him a bit, that he didn’t have to open it, to know what it was. He’d have to survive the rush, if not just to edit the draft into some enjoyable, viscously detailed reading.

Bones stood again in the doorway, politely waiting her turn to speak as usual. It took some time for the two of them to wave her in, and she smiled to them graciously. Reese snorted and shooed at ‘Choly with the stern protectiveness of a sibling-turned-parent.

“We pick our masks fresh again after The Unfolding,” Reese reminded as Bones took one of ‘Choly’s arms in two of hers. “Be certain to confirm yourself before we leave, Colonel. Thirty minutes, like you said. Not a minute more.”

He could do little more than nod. His heart swapped places with some other organ as the Mistress of Ceremonies dragged him along. It had been one thing, for the Furriers to have outsmarted the Devils with pit and wire traps, on their own property. It would be another entirely, for them to outpace the raiders on the Devils’ terrain. The whole thing felt like a test he hadn’t studied for.

Between Reese’s house and the Reservoir House, he noticed Angel milling idly, transparent in its proximity but also in a deliberateness to keep its distance. He’d have to apologize after Bones had finished with him.

Bones held out the coat for him to inspect. He reached out to run a cautious, gloved hand along the cobalt ultramarine jacquard brocade, jaw slack in distant admiration. It scarcely anymore resembled the white colonel’s coat he’d worn into Voire, between the lining and the turned long-pile peppered fur collar. He pulled back, to remove his rifle and Pip-Boy just long enough for him to slip it on. She gleefully helped him into it, delighting in his features as she fluffed at the collar.

Blood-borne diseases. He clipped his Pip-Boy back on and frowned meaninglessly to himself. The Vault Suit had synced to the Pip-Boy for more comprehensive physiological diagnostics. He swallowed hard to shove down the dread of inevitability. On the one hand, it had told him at the gold course that he had not contracted anything from the Bloodbug stab; but on the other, it had attempted to speculate just about everything else. He gave the device a plaintive touch. Please, never tell me that I fucked up trusting Liv.

His chin bobbled down into the fur, trying to connect their lines of sight while also looking over his glasses.

“Why... why was it necessary to redo the lining before we rush the Devils?”

“The officer’s martial coat had good leather to work from.” She smoothed down his lapels, and briefly broke their gaze to intimately trace at the twin Pharm Corps insignias she’d already pinned in place for him. “Leather has always been the best protection from the postwar elements anyone could hope for. We’ve named ourselves the Furriers, because we learned to survive radiation thanks to tanning and fiber craft. It’s unfortunate that we only had the one source of human leather at the moment’s notice, as it’s the zenith of rad resistance when tanned properly. But leather’s only effective against energy, not mass. I replaced the lining with something not just formidable against the rest, but,” she smiled sweetly to herself, “beautifully fitting of you. I hope the choice of pattern pleases you. It’s the only fabric I had on hand in the right color for you.”

He stood silent, simply running his gloves over the fur time and again. The coat now reminded him of a shuba. Except this one will protect me from the nuclear winter. The floral jacquard brocade reminded him of Hubflower, the way the vaguely iridescent pattern picked up both lavenders and ultramarines. He sniffed, locked up between that juvenile nostalgia again and the fidelity the garment now carried.

“Hub suits me more than I can say. Thank you, Bones.”

He put a hand to her cheek, and watched her watching him. Their lips closed in on one another’s.

A Furrier with a black cat mask and long stringy dark hair burst into the Reservoir House, donning a mix of oiled leather and military twill. Despite still carrying the silhouette of having a head on his shoulders, his arms sprouted from his hips. He pointed at ‘Choly, who jerked back like he’d been caught.

“Sticks said you’d be here. We should’ve left for the rush hours ago! Why should we listen to you! Can’t even handle your root!”

“Felix!” Bones hissed. “Watch your tongue. It was his first time!”

“And it’ll be the Devils’ first time, too. This isn’t Sanctuary! You don’t think--”

“--Don’t you THINK,” Angel entered at a roar behind him, “that you ought to show your commanding officer a little more respect!”

“Sanctuary.” The word fell from ‘Choly like bile. He knew the man meant it as a name, not an idea. “I don’t think what?”

Felix had to think twice before he spoke again, his head whipping around to account time and again for the number of people now in the workshop.

“Sir, with all due respect--and there’s so little. You don’t think it’s going to be a cake walk, do you? Be part of some elite group where you get to shelter yourself from the chaos whenever it’s convenient for you? This may still look loosely like a military outfit, but understand this, and understand it well: We stand with you, not beneath you. Not for a second. Not with who you are.”

A look gnarled ‘Choly’s face, like he’d mistakenly bitten into something rotten. His head barely would give him the words to put in his mouth.

“Excuse me?” His face righted just enough to form a response. “Where was this vitriol and doubt before The Unfolding?”

“Your little fainting spell just proved how frail you are. Whatever being in that hole in the ground did to you, you aren’t fit for command anymore. If you can’t handle your Root, you don’t have the Endurance to stay afloat in a fight.”

“I’m the one to make that measure,” Angel insisted. “Not. You.”

It put itself between the Furrier and ‘Choly. ‘Choly nearly squeaked in resignation that Felix was right, of course he had the constitution of... wet cardboard, wasn’t it? Felix took a hostile step forward, and Angel squared up, drawing its lasers.

“Go ahead and hide behind your baby blue cotillion bot, Colonel Carey. At the end of the day, we all report back to Reese, not your-- you.”

Bones glared at him, fists clenched.

“Felix, save this for the Devils.”

“He’s sure a demon I could put to rest,” Felix muttered, showing himself out.

‘Choly wheezed once he felt safer.

“What was all that about. Angel, thank you for coming to my rescue.”

“I’m sure you could’ve handled it just fine without me,” the Mister Handy started. He couldn’t discern from its tone whether Angel had intended it as a jab.

“Well I’m certainly glad that you swooped in after him,” Bones disagreed. “Between you and me, we must keep Melancholy in one piece. Am I right, D.I. Angel?”

“I didn’t know you brought the Vault Suit,” he appreciated, sheepish.

“Well, I couldn’t very well have let you get off without a change of clothes, now, could I? What sort of Automatron would I be!”

“You really do all you can to provide for me. You even know what I need without me voicing it.” ‘Choly lost his fingers in the fur again, his eyes distant. “Food, safety, security.” His wet eyes picked up, feeling a fleeting clarity. “Security. You’re home, moy Angel. ...Ty dom.”

“Oh, Sir... I turned you loose to the Furriers because I trusted Mister Hawthorne’s statement that X-Root and X-Squared are incompatible. Worst case scenario, you got a scare. Best case scenario, you enjoyed yourself. Sir... Sir, I can’t tell if you trust me anymore, to put your best interests in priority. And you must, if we plan to survive this full assault.”

“Of course I trust you. The... worry’s been whether you trusted me. I have to be honest with you, Angel. I’ve... I’ve been scared to navigate our arrangement, so I’ve avoided it altogether. Even when I thought chems might help.” His pale face shimmered as his breathing got heavier, and his ears stuffed up the harder he focused on keeping his train of thought in utter earnest. “Day’s already been hell, even before the X-Squared wore off too fast. I don’t think I can get through this day without chems, Angel. I feel the only way we’re getting through this is with a fistful of Stimpaks and Calmex.”

“You and I have an agreement, Mister Carey. You’re asking me to administer chems, and you’re asking me politely, at that. You replaced my worn out Nanny attachments with those in better condition. Let’s try them out, shall we?”

“I. Yes, please.” He stared at it, fumbling and dumbstruck that the understood one another so immediately. “Perhaps, just a dose of Med-X for now. If you could. Please.”

He pulled his left arm from its sleeve, and rolled up the Vault Suit just enough to bare his antecubital fold to the robot. It complied with delicate precision and without hesitation. Once he’d smoothed his garment back down, he leaned his forehead against Angel’s chassis, and it held a tendril against his back.

“Where do you suppose Sticks has gotten off to?”

“He’s doing a once-over on the Riverhawk before we head out, Sir. I’ll take you to him, if you must. We’re wasting daylight, the longer we dally so.”

‘Choly nodded. He looked to Bones.

“You’re the two piloting machines.” She urged them on with a certain distance in her eyes, as though it all made sense.

He walked up to her, and held one of her shoulders. Then, he pressed his lips to hers. Her lurid intensity drew him in with all six arms as she pressed back, the two of them coaxed rather than repulsed by the effect on her activated flesh.

“We’re going to get through this in one piece,” ‘Choly told her with a crooked smile.

“Out of many, one,” she agreed, with an even more crooked smile.

‘Choly took up the Syringer rifle and attempted to mount Angel. He struggled to hoist himself up steady on the foot pegs, but managed much better once he wrapped a fist in the juryrigged chain-belt reins and leaned over the top of the Mister Handy. Once it had tared to his weight, it spirited him out of the workshop, around the Christian Hill Reservoir, and to Ick’s house.

“Oh, good.” Sticks only looked up long enough to confirm he’d heard and seen right. “You’re done speaking with Reese. And playing dress-up, apparently. --Don’t... take that as ignorance. I know Bones was played your quartermaster.”

‘Choly didn’t feel confident in his ability to get back up a second time, so he stayed mounted atop Angel. He shoved down a frown as the heaviness of the painkiller hit.

“Are you going to be all right, Jacob?”

“Can’t take the Ick outta Sticks.” An exhaustive silence transpired while Sticks stuck his head back in the passenger side window, fishing through things he and Felix had loaded up. “It’s good you’re up there. Should’ve stayed atop Angel. You’d have been safe up there.”

“Doesn’t matter what I should’ve done. Does it?” He murmured to himself in a vague lyric, trying to find the words. “No, it does matter. Of course it does. But we can’t stand around sorting out what that means. We have war ahead.”

“Best thing I’ve heard all day!” Felix hollered from the driver’s seat, slapping the wheel. “Guns blazing!”

“Straight shot down to Back Central,” Sticks agreed, hoisting himself up into the back of the truck, where his mounted Flamer awaited him. As he stood in place, he glanced to ‘Choly. “You, leading the charge, and us, heading up the back... It works out, to have had the extra ninety minutes before heading out. We’re more together than we would’ve been without it.”

“I’m glad to be favorable.”

Felix turned the engine over, and they made their way out to the entry point of Voire. Any Furriers who had not yet taken up a mask chose theirs from a pile, then joined their neighbors standing ready for their commanding officer. ‘Choly remembered that Reese had urged him to confirm himself as well, but he didn’t feel right taking one of their masks. He reached into Angel’s storage, and produced his burlap sack hood. It had always hidden his identity, but masks provided the Furriers theirs. With this freakish crew marching through Lowell clad in masks and bright colors, he couldn’t help but imagine them as mummers. What dragon might they slay today?

“Ghost,” he murmured, smoothing it down under his coat collar. “Burlap. Sack. Ghost.”

‘Choly waved them all on, to follow out of Voire. As Angel flew backwards, he watched the Riverhawk get further away from him. He resigned to requesting the aforementioned Calmex and Stimpak, which Angel administered to his throat. He stood resolute, riding standing-saddle. The sky darkened to the East behind them. They brought the night.

Night was longest in the winter. He couldn’t help but feel more the part of Kara-chun, than ‘Choly-ada. And it tickled an important part of him.

His mind played Sticks’s voice as he again faced the front.

You’re just a ghost, Mindy. Well, hell’s full ‘cause the Devils are all here. And they’re going to have to deal with us.

Go to Next »»»

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Halloween au

Favours

(Yuki otoko Ghiaccio X female reader)

This winter was the coldest you had ever experienced. Blizzards were almost a daily occurrence. Many believed this may have been caused by a Yuki otoko that had appeared in legends, one that your village had given yearly offerings for centuries but had now slowly been fading due to many wars that had occurred.

You were the only remaining tailor in the village. The others had either passed away or joined the military leaving you with the  task of making and mending clothes for the entire village, which had been hard to begin with but over time your skills had improved to the point where your work was highly sort after.

You walked though the deep layers of snow while carrying the large quantities of fabric. Your knee grew weaker with each step and the stinging of small shards of ice in the harsh wind hitting your body. Through the thick clouds you could see the sun slowly settling, you needed to find shelter soon or else you would surely perish.

You looked around the cold tundra that the land had become and to your luck you had found a cave not to far away, hopefully you could make it before the sun completely vanished.

🎃🎃🎃

You had arrived with only a few minutes to spare. You grabbed out a lantern, oil and a match from you satchel and lit it. Now with a source of light you made your way deep into the cave before setting everything down and slumped down on the wall, despite the cold, harsh weather outside the cave had a certain warmth to it that made you doze of with no problem. However your peaceful sleep only lasted a few hours.

Your eyes slowly opened as you heard footsteps. You quickly grabbed your knife and slowly approached the source of the noise. You tried to hold back gasp as you saw the white fur covered back of an unfamiliar creature, however despite your attempts it noticed you.

Your body paled as the creature turned to face you. It was only just taller and had a human like posture, fur covered most of its body except for it's face which was like that of a baboon except for a pair of cut horns.

You screamed as it grabbed your free arm. You threw yourself around in a blind fit of terror, accidentally slashing it's face with your knife. It let out a hiss in pain as it let go of you and held it's face.

"Ahh that fucking hurts!" It said with strain in it's masculine voice. You were stuck in awe by the profanity it spoke, little more the fact that it spoke at all.

The creature moved it's hands away from it's face to reveal the large cut down it's face revealing that it was in fact a mask.

"You... You!" It yelled as it took the mask off and threw it at you, revealing it's true features. He looked almost human, except for a few features. Those being his light blue hair, his awfully pale skin, a pair of cut horns and a pair of abnormal canines that grazed his lower lips.

"Do you know how long it took me to make this!" He hissed.

"I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean it" you apologized to him but he wasn't going to take it.

"'I'm sorry I'm so sorry'. That ain't gonna cut it!" He said as he mimicked your voice.

"Unless you can do something about it sweetie, I'll rip you to shreads!" He yelled as he pointed one of his sharp nails at you.

"I... I could try and fix it..." You stuttered.

"Really?" he said with sarcasm laced in his voice.

"Give me a day and I will fix it, I promise" you said. He gave you a critical look.

"Fine, but if you don't get it done when the sun sets tomorrow" he said before giving you the cut throat signal.

"Until then, your staying where I know you can't leave" he said as he pulled you deeper into the cave by the arm, until you both ended up in a place that was unlike any you had seen before.

A opening in the celling of the cave revealed the bright moon that made the area nearly blinding to be in, a area where thick layers of ice cascaded over crystal formations.

You looked to the sky in awe as the snow seemed like stars falling from the sky.

"What are you looking at he said as he pulled you into a corner before taking off his coat of fur and put it on you, revealing his body draped in multiple yukata some of which you recognised as your own work.

"Are you the Yuki otoko?" You asked him.

"Just go to sleep already, I don't want you falling asleep on the job" he said.

🎃🎃🎃

You woke up to feel something cold against your face however it wasn't an unpleasant coldness, it was actually quite comforting. You opened your eyes to see that creature from last night, cuddled up right beside you.

You sat up to see the area glowing with the morning sun, fragments of light bouncing off the ice in every direction. All of you belonging were placed on the other side of you.

You reached out for your bag and grabbed out a needle and thread and picked up the mask. You inspected it for a few minutes before trying to push the needle into the bottom of the mask, you groaned as you tried so desperately to get the needle through the flesh only to help as you felt it stab into you finger.

"Ugh, what are you making such a fuss about" the blue haired creature groaned. Before looking at the blood that slowly surfaced from your flesh. It would be only a matter of time before you gave up.

While he watched you slowly stitch up his mask he decided to put in the effort to at least talk to you.

"What's your name?" He asked you as he sat right beside you.

"It's (Y/n) you responded as you continued to look at the mask you were still stitching.

"What's yours?" You asked, just trying to keep the conversation flowing.

"Ghiaccio..." he mumbled.

"It's a different name..." You commented. He responded in a groan.

"It's a nice name in my opinion" you clarified.

Your conversation went on and on but Ghiaccio didn't mind it in the slightest, despite the fact that you had hurt him last night you were actually a nice person to talk to. It was a relief to finally have some company rather then the usual isolation that he had been in.

He watched you throughout the day as you painfully sewed up the mask, blister formed on your soft finger as you continued the painful task. His eyes inspected you stitching.

"You're the tailor lady from the village north west of here, aren't you?" He asked.

"I'm flattered that you know of my work" you replied.

"But then again... I always make you clothes as an offering" you continued as you finished the stitching.

"Done" you beamed as you knotted the end of the thread before giving him the mask.

"I've kept my end of the deal, now you keep yours and let me go" you said as you stood up and picked up your things.

"Ummm..." He began as a light blush appeared on his face.

"I have one last request..." He mumbled.

"What?" You asked. He then pointed to one of the textiles you had, a particular one that had apparently come from overseas. The black and white striped pattern on silk was entrancing.

"Next October, please make me a yukata with that fabric" he asked before walking.

"Of course" you replied as you followed

🎃🎃🎃

As the next winter approached you had made the yukata that Ghiaccio had requested. Many patrons tried to buy it from you but you refused.

You sat down with one of the Emperor's advisors who requested a garment for princes coronation. He constantly talked about how he heard about your work and how people claimed that you were the best tailor in the country while showing you the design sketches.

"I'll have it done in a week" you said as you pulled down the requested fabrics.

"I trust that you'll do a fine job, I'll bring him then to try it" he replied before shaking your hand and giving you the first half of your payment.

You had expected that to be all but once he returned to the palace he couldn't help but tell the prince of the young tailors unrivaled beauty. He went into lengthy detail about every part of you.

"If she really is as beautiful as you say then I will consider marriage" the prince declared.

🎃🎃🎃

When the prince arrived you hadn't expected much, just a pay and go situation but he didn't he had ordered his advisor and guards to leave before taking your hand.

"So my advisors words were true, your by far the most beautiful woman I've meet" he said in a soft tone.

"I'm surprised your parents didn't send you off to become a geisha" he continued as he tried to pull you closer. You didn't like where this was going, you tried to push him away but to no advil.

"Please let go of me" you said which caused his soft expression to turn sour.

"Are you trying to turn me down" he asked with irritation.

"I do not wish for you to be looked down upon for marrying a commoner such as I" you explained which made him angered.

"I don't care about what other will say" he argued.

"But we don't even know anything about one another!" You retorted. He glared down at you with a devious look as he grabbed out a dagger.

"Then I'll stab myself and tell everyone that you did it, I'll convict you of treason and have you executed" he said. You looked at him with shock.

"Your crazy" you muttered.

"Yes I'm crazy... for you that is" he replied.

"Fine, I'll marry you" you sighed in defeat.

"Then it's settled, you will come with me back to the palace where we will start the arrangements" he said.

"No! Please let me stay just for awhile longer!" You yelled.

"And why is that?" He hissed.

"In two weeks we give offerings to the Yuki otoko, I'd like to place down my offering before I leave" you explained.

"If you must but I will come down to this village every day, so don't try to make any escapes" he replied.

"I won't..."

🎃🎃🎃

The night of offering arrived and the town had become a lot crowded due to the soon to be king's presence. You snarled at the fire works and stalls that had been set up around the town, they had turned a peaceful ceremony into a big light show and Ghiaccio hadn't appreciated it much either.

He looked at the fireworks the lit up the sky. He was outraged. Nothing like this had happened before, and he hated it.

He approached the village, maybe scare a few people and ruin gardens but as he stomped through the forest he heard your voice.

"I'll really miss this town" you sighed.

He saw amongst the shrubs you along with an unfamiliar male.

"Why are you so attached to such a small run down village, once you an I are married well live a palace twice the size of this!" He exclaimed, partially in amusement.

Ghiaccio let out a low growl under his breath. Since he had met you he had wanted to take you for himself but just couldn't find an opportunity.

Cause a mess and ruin the only night he had to enjoy was one thing but stealing what he saw was his was another. He began to approach you two.

"What is that thing?!" The prince exclaimed as he pointed to Ghiaccio.

"Gh...Ghiaccio, what are you doing here?" You asked him, he gave you response.

"You named this foul beast!" He looked at you in horror as he grabbed your arm and tried to run away but Ghiaccio quickly snatched you up and threw you over his shoulder. You let let out a small yelp.

"Ghiaccio answer me!" You yelled only for him to hit you in the back of the head, causing you to fall unconscious.

"Let go of my bride!" The prince screamed as he lunged at him with his dagger in hand, the blade cutting the mask completely off. Exposing his true face with a small amount of blood trickling down his face. Rage predominant on his features.

"You think you can just take waltz in here and decide that you going to take and ruin what's mine!" Ghiaccio yelled as he grabbed the prince by the throat and pinned him to a tree.

"Well I'm not taking any bullshit from fuckers like you!" He continued before throwing him to the ground.

"You have no right call (Y/n) your bride!" He screamed as he began to kick as stomp his head in. The fresh white snow turning a dark red.

"You think she'd ever like a stuck up bastard like you! No! You're nothing more then a piece of fucking shit!" He continued until he was sure that man would regret ever trying to take you away.

"The Yuki otoko! It's killed the prince!" A voice screamed, causing him to flinch before trying to run away

"And it has (Y/n)!" Another added

"What does it intend to do?!"

"It's not pleased with the change of festivities!"

"It's probably going to eat her!"

"Then we must give chase, we can't afford to have her eaten!"All the many voices continued as they tried to chase him but after an hour they lost him, only to assume the worst.

🎃🎃🎃

You woke up in the familiar clearing in the cave that Ghiaccio had taken you to nearly a year ago, but this time it felt more ominous then before. You sat up and rubbed your eyes and looked in shock at the large icicles that confineded you in the corner like a cage.

"Ghiaccio! What is the meaning of this!?" You yelled at the lump of fur a couple of metres away from you.

"What are you talking about?" He  grumbled as he stood up. Your eyes widened at the site of blood on his coat.

"What... What did you do?" You gasped.

"I saved you from living the rest of your life with a asshole that thought he could pass of as a suitable husband for you" he explained.

"But why... Bring me back here and confined me like this?" You asked.

"Because you are the only person that I trust" he responded.

"And..." He was about to say something but quickly cut himself off.

"What?" You asked.

"Do you want me to show you?"

[fledermausforstrauss]

Day 4 - Frozen

Crowley is late, Aziraphale is worried. Crowley does something stupid, Aziraphale Tries His Best. 1,821 words.

Always thankful to @pie1313​ for the help, she gives me too many good ideas. No such thing as writer’s block with her around.

—–

Aziraphale looked over his shoulder at the front door, waiting for the little bell above the entrance to ring in the particular way Crowley always seemed to make it ring.

They had made plans for the night. A new musical was opening up in the Playhouse Theatre and Crowley had bought them good tickets. Aziraphale had been waiting for him, but he hadn’t shown up in time for them to make it to the show, which left Aziraphale wonder where he was.

The walk from Crowley’s flat to the bookshop wasn’t long, and it was an even shorter drive, especially in the Bentley, which Crowley would certainly be driving with the weather the way it was.

It had been steadily snowing the whole day, piling up on the streets and impeding traffic, turning London into a wintery wonderland. 

For a moment, Aziraphale worried the Bentley might’ve got stuck in the snowy streets, but he knew better than to doubt Crowley’s pride and joy. If the Bentley could make it through a wall of fire, it could make it through a bit of snow.

It had only been a few moments since the show had started, but Aziraphale was really starting to worry. He tucked a bookmark into the book he hadn’t been reading and put it aside, pulling his coat on.

He stood at the front door, his hand on the handle as he looked out the window. It had grown dark, the orange glow of the street lights reflecting off the mounds of snow and the still-falling flakes that continued to fill the air.

There was a familiar shape in the snow, taking up the parking spot in front of the bookshop.

Aziraphale’s frown deepened as he pushed on the door, only to meet resistance. He stood on his toes and pressed his face against the glass to look down at whatever was blocking the door and gasped. He pushed the other door open and knelt in the building pile of snow, reaching out to brush the snow off the form curled against the door frame to reveal a shock of red hair.

He worked frantically to clear the demon of snow, muttering to himself as panic made his heart race. Crowley was curled tight on himself, his skin as cold as ice.

Aziraphale gently took the tinted glasses off and pressed his hands to Crowley’s cheeks, patting the side of his face gently.

“Crowley? Come on, wake up.” He took the demon’s hands in his own, finding them frozen stiff. “Oh, dear.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, reaching out with all available senses. He could feel just the faintest trace of Crowley’s essence still coiled in his corporeal form.

He hadn’t discorporated. Yet.

Aziraphale scooped Crowley into his arms, carrying him into the warmth of the bookshop, placing him on the couch and brushing the damp hair from his forehead. He pulled the tartan blanket off of the back of the couch and tucked Crowley in, trying to think back to his knowledge of the treatment of hypothermia.

As soon as the demon’s form was covered with a warm blanket, Aziraphale snapped his fingers, replacing his damp clothes with dry pajamas, drying his hair, and adding another thick blanket.

“Alright, now I just have to…” Aziraphale looked Crowley’s form over, trying to remember what came next. “…Ah. Right.”

Aziraphale pulled his chair next to the couch and sat, his entire frame tense as he bit his lip. 

“Now I just have to wait.” Aziraphale mumbled.

He took Crowley’s hand in his own again, running his thumb over his knuckles and studying the paint on the demon’s nails. He could feel the skin of Crowley’s hand starting to warm under his fingers and let go of the breath he had been holding.

The old clock in the corner of the bookshop ticked away as Aziraphale tried hard not to count the seconds between each of Crowley’s breaths, but it was the only thing he could focus on. They were far too slow, and so shallow that he was sure he would miss them if he wasn’t giving it all of his attention.

He leant forward and rested a hand on Crowley’s cheek, confused and concerned when his skin still felt icy to the touch. He furrowed his brows and slid his hand under the blankets to find the demon’s chest just as frozen.

“Why aren’t you warming up…?” Aziraphale muttered to himself, running his hand along the chilled skin of the demon’s arm until he found himself holding his warm hand again. His mind raced for a moment before his face fell slack in realization. He ran his hand down his face, feeling like an idiot. 

Their corporeal forms were fundamentally human. Aziraphale had been treating Crowley’s hypothermia as he would a human’s, and in any other case, that would work just fine, but Aziraphale had forgotten a key fact in his panic.

While it was true Crowley’s body was human-like, the demon was, at his very core, a serpent. 

Remembering back to something he had read long before, snakes were incapable of creating their own body heat, meaning Crowley could spend days tucked under thick blankets and he would still be just as frozen as he was when he went in. He needed a source of heat.

Aziraphale looked around the bookshop, trying to come up with something that could gradually heat Crowley. It couldn’t be too hot or too fast or he had a chance of harming Crowley more than helping him. 

He looked down at their clasped hands again.

The only part of Crowley that had any warmth to it was the hand Aziraphale had been holding.

He couldn’t help the slow smile that formed on his lips as he had idea.

—–

Crowley awoke wrapped in warmth.

He wriggled deeper into the comfort surrounding him, a soft hum escaping his lips.

There was a breath of a laugh much too close to his ear. He pried his bleary eyes open to find himself staring into a familiar pair of blue eyes. He blinked a few times, his mind sluggishly catching up.

He was curled into Aziraphale’s arms, his own limbs wrapped around the angel’s waist with a tight grip. They were buried under cozy blankets and squeezed into the limited space of the antique couch Crowley liked to lounge on, their legs tangled together in a mess of limbs.

He pushed back just enough to study the warm look on the angel’s face only inches from his own.

“Am I dead?” Crowley whispered.

“You sure tried you best, my dear.” Aziraphale’s smile twitched. “But no. You’re going to be just fine.”

“What happened?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me.” Aziraphale said. “I found you curled up on the doorstep, frozen solid in the snow.”

“The snow…” Crowley repeated, thinking. He blinked owlishly. “Oh no.”

“Crowley?”

Crowley ignored the angel and rolled backwards off the couch, falling to the floor with a thud and taking the blankets down with him. He scrambled, flailing his limbs and he fought his way out of the fabric, stumbling to his feet and taking a step towards the front door.

He paused, looking down at himself.

“Angel….” Crowley said, aghast. “What the Hell am I wearing?”

His usual attire had been switched out for a set of pajamas patterned with Aziraphale’s favourite shade of tartan. He pulled on the front of the shirt to glare at the offending pattern.

“Oh, don’t be like that. I had to get you into something warm and dry.” Aziraphale frowned, sitting up on the couch. “You were soaking wet from sitting out there–.”

“Right.” Crowley interrupted, remembering what he was doing and continuing on his path for the door.

“Crowley, where are you going?” Aziraphale asked, rushing to follow him towards the door. “Don’t go back out there! I just got you warm!”

Crowley ignored the angel and pushed the door open, immediately filled with chill and regret, but not willing to give up so quickly. He knelt in the pile of snow that was still growing, reaching his hands into the mound and searching around the spot where the imprint of his body was faintly discernible.

He pushed snow aside and dug his fingers through the ice, hissing at the cold, feeling around until he caught the corner of a metal case. Just as his fingers clutched at it, he felt strong hands grab him under his arms and drag him back into the warmth.

They tumbled back into a heap on the floor as the door slammed itself shut, the little bell over the entrance swinging wildly.

“What were you thinking!?” Aziraphale demanded, pulling as much of Crowley’s shivering body into his lap as he could and holding him tight.

Crowley clutched the case to his chest, his teeth chattering and his fingers burning from the cold. He smiled shakily at the angel’s worried look and let the case fall into his lap.

“A-Apparently…” Crowley stuttered, struggling to open the latches with numb fingers. “Sss- Ssome people k-keep bookss in– In temp– Temp–  In Cold roomss. D-Did you know th-that?”

“It can help keep them preserved, yes.” Aziraphale said, confused.

“W-Well. I didn’t.” Crowley frowned. “Sss–Sseemss ssilly, keeping b-bookss cold.”

Aziraphale watched as Crowley huffed a breath in frustration, snapping his fingers to unlock the stubborn latches. He opened it to reveal a smaller wooden box with intricate carvings embedded with sparkling gems.

“I wasssn’t prepared for how c-cold it wass. Then the bassstard wanted t-to sstand around and bloody chat about books.” Crowley said, disgusted, wrinkling his nose at the idea. “In the cold room!” 

“Crowley…” Aziraphale said, his voice low, a curious smile curving his lips. “What’s in the box?”

Crowley opened the lid to reveal a black leather-bound book, gilded with shimmering gold-leaf. The title was elegantly scribed in the same gold, catching the low light of the bookshop beautifully, reading ‘The Canterbury Tales’.

Aziraphale gasped softly.

“It’ss one of o-only ten copies.” Crowley stuttered, puffing his chest out in pride. “And the only p-private copy in the world.”

“I know.” Aziraphale’s smile grew. “Where did you find this?”

“I told you.” Crowley said. “In a very, very cold room.”

“Oh, my dear.” Aziraphale dragged his eyes away from the book to look at Crowley. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” Crowley said. “B-but I wanted to. And it would have been f-fine if it weren’t alsso sso bloody cold outsside.”

The angel gave him a fond smile, shaking his head.

“Guesss we missed that play, though.” Crowley frowned. “Ssorry about that.”

“That’s quite alright.” Aziraphale said, the fondness of his smile seeping into his words. “I think I’d rather stay inside in this weather anyways. Curl up under some blankets with a warm cup of cocoa… Care to join me?”

“Always, angel.”

[cosplayinamerica]

A rather funny thing that happened while we were at AWA. We had just finished with a small photo shoot in the main lobby of the hotel when a police officer walked over to us and asked if we could come with him. At first, we thought maybe we had done something wrong, maybe we had stood in the wrong place or something. The officer led us to the front desk of the hotel where we learned we weren’t in trouble but instead, the desk clerks had wanted to get a closer look at the armor. Just about gave us a heart attack!

Jason, my husband, is actually the one who decided to give making a full suit of armor out of foam a try. I had recently roped him into playing Monster Hunter Generations on the Nintendo 3DS and he seemed to instantly fall in love with the game.

As we played the game together we kept talking about how neat it would be to create one of the armors in real life. After playing the game for a few months and getting the Zinogre armor, Jason told me that was going to be his next cosplay. If I remember correctly, I actually laughed when he said that. Ha, ha. I honestly thought he was joking since we had never made anything like the Zinogre Blademaster before.

Sure, we had done armor for me recently but, it wasn’t head to toe and the source material was all pixel based so we had to come up with a lot of the design ourselves. Jason was talking about making a full suit of armor and making it as accurate to the source material as possible.

After a few minutes of talking it over and realizing that he was dead serious I jumped onboard with the idea. We’ve been together long enough now that I know when Jason sets his mind to something, especially something artistic, it is going to turn out well and he is going to go all out on it.

We had just finished making armor out of Worbla for me and although we both liked how it turned out, we both knew that we could do better with a different material.

After doing a lot of research and looking at how other cosplayers had created amazing suits of armor, we decided that EVA foam was the way to go. All of the armor pieces, including the small finger pieces, are made of EVA foam. Jason created all of the patterns, I cut all the pieces out of foam, Jason then sanded all the pieces and used a Dremel tool to carve the organic detail into the foam. Once that was done, Jason glued all the pieces together that needed to be glued at that point before I began priming everything with several coats of Flex Bond.

After all the priming was finished, I put the base coats on all the pieces before handing everything back off to Jason for the beautiful detailed paint job. While Jason was working on that, I braided all the cord for the armor and also brushed a thin wash of brown fabric paint into the “grooves” of the braids to make them look more weathered and tarnished. Since everything was being hand painted it took much longer than we both had expected to finish the paint job.

To ensure that we could finish in time I got Jason to show me how he had started sewing the fur and took that on as my next mini project. It took a long while, and there were certainly points where we both just had to take a short break from the build, but we finally got it finished. When everything was finally completed we sealed it with non-yellowing spray varnish to ensure that the paint didn’t rub off.

Putting this armor together was an adventure. Thankfully we have always worked really well together and know that we can depend on each other to get a project finished. Oh! I did forget to mention one small detail. As Jason put it, the entire armor is held together with “snappy-doodles”, “thing-a-mabobs”, and “whatchamacallits”. Ha, ha. As you can tell, we pulled some late nights to finish the project.

The response we got at AWA was absolutely amazing and humbling. Jason couldn’t walk more than five to ten steps without being asked for a photo. We both were super happy with how the armor had turned out but hadn’t really given much thought to how it would be received at the convention. To say that we were blown away by the response would be an understatement. We love to create, so being able to see people react to what we have created in such a positive manner was great and really uplifting.

To anyone who stopped for a photo or to just ask us questions about how we went about making this armor, thank you. All of you made this AWA absolutely fantastic!

Cosplay has impacted my life in two major ways. Like most people, cosplay has helped me to open up. Growing up I was extremely shy and it was near impossible to get me to say anything around strangers.

After cosplaying for a few years I’ve noticed that I’m nowhere near as quiet and shy as I used to be. Cosplay has also impacted my life by allowing me to work with my husband on fun, artistic projects. Jason and I met in college and we used to work on projects together all the time.

Once we graduated and had to find work we had less time to work on things as a team. Cosplay has let us get back to working on big projects together and honestly, that’s the most fun part of cosplay to me. If I couldn’t work on cosplay with my husband it wouldn’t be anywhere near as fun and I’m not sure if I’d still be cosplaying.

If you are interested in cosplaying jump in and start. Don’t let the thought of, “I’ll never be as good as so and so”, keep you from cosplaying. We had several people at AWA tell us that they wanted to cosplay but were afraid to because they would never be able to create something like the Zinogre Armor.

We all start somewhere and if you saw our very first cosplays you’d see that we’ve come a long way. Just like anything in life, it is just a matter of practice. So, as long as you keep working on cosplay and always have fun with it you’ll be able to create an awesome cosplay.

---- https://www.instagram.com/sombrasuzaku/ and https://www.instagram.com/foster.jasc/

photo: https://www.instagram.com/gbghcosplay/

Shopping on Amazon? Use my affiliate link : https://amzn.to/2TG2ioU

[jedimanda]

May I present, DOCTOR STRANGE! Yes, I’m Mr. Cumberbatch can’t you tell?! Well I will tell you that I’m not Stephanie Strange. Who isn’t a character in the Marvel Universe but yet I get called that for some weird reason? Hmmm.. I wonder why.🤷‍♀️  #womenincosplayprobs. BUT, I digress. Let’s chat about how I made my favorite cosplay, yes I said it, MY FAVORITE COSPLAY I EVER MADE. That’s a tall order since most people would believe that my Star Wars cosplays are my favorite. Queen Amidala is right behind Strange in the “favorite costume line up of mine”. It’s all about the connection to the character. I love Doctor Strange. He is my favorite comic book character. I will say I came into this Strange dimension later than most. I’ve read some Avengers and Defenders comics before and I’ve always been intrigued by the character but never really dove into his storyline. It wasn’t until the movie in 2015 that I just fell in love with the character. I really loved that movie. So, I immediately dove into all the comics I could get. From the old 70s comics to the newest ones, I became enthralled. To show my appreciation for my new found comic love, I had to make his outfit.

I knew this build wouldn’t be a super long build (like 9 months for Amidala), but I knew I would be figuring things out along the way. The cloak was the first piece I wanted to tackle. I fabric swatched at Joann’s Fabric and on the first go, I found the exact fabric for the cloak. It was a special order upholstery fabric. More like fabric for a beautiful red couch. I needed that heavy drape looks but still have a little free flow to it. Next, I found a sensible red velvet and boom. The outer fabric has been sourced. Then, I headed over to Spoonflower.com to find the lining. Easy! Click here for the link to Spoonflower! The design was created by Shawna Lay. Thanks, Shawna!

Yippee! Fabric found. The next items I found were all the trims, cording, interfacing, and thread that I would need for the details on the cloak. I did use some pretty special interfacing for a lot of stiff parts of this whole cosplay such as the collar and shoulder padding on the vest. This stuff is pretty awesome, it’s called Super Structure Foam from the company Sew Much Cosplay. Click here to grab some and check them out.

With all the fabrics and notions for the cloak, it’s time to build. First, the draping. I did drape the cloak, so no pattern exists from me. If you are interested in finding a pattern for the cloak. Use the McCall’s 7676 Doctor Strange pattern. You can easily chop it up and use it. In my case, draping was the easiest.

Once the cloak was draped and I had the shape I wanted, I moved to the details that needed to be handsewn or machine sewed on. The collar has couching details on the back, check it out. This took some time.

From here on out it was a lot of topstitching trim and sewing on big pieces made like the shoulder pieces. Take a look.

I got creative with the trims and textures I had. Luckily Joann’s had a lot of great choices so I didn’t have to dye anything. Let’s move to the magic checkboard velvet pattern I created by accident. The cloak has these distinct velvet checkboard pieces on it. It really boggled my mind on how to get that exact design on the velvet. I thought that I would have to use chemicals to achieve that “burnout” look, so I purchased some. I really couldn’t get it to work well and I just hated dealing with it. I was using wax based chalk to draw out the designs on the velvet to establish an area for the chemicals. At one point, I made a mistake and to remove wax chalk mistake, you hit it with an iron and the chalk marks are removed. So I did that, and surprisingly a residue was left behind on the velvet causing the velvet to have a darker tone where the chalk was. GENIUS! So I grabbed my chalk and rulers then went to town.

It was pretty easy, draw out the design you want, hit it with the iron. Don’t forget to place a press cloth in between just to be safe. Turned out great!

The next couple of images are showing where I placed the checkerboard velvet pieces.

Here are some close ups of the shoulder piece creation.

With almost all my costumes, custom embroidery is added. This time, the custom parts were added to the borders of the cloak. I was able to find a blurry image of the piece online and then I cleaned it up in Adobe Illustrator, transferred it to my Embroidery design software, made it into an embroidery file, then moved it to my embroidery machine. Off it goes!

Now! It’s time to add the lining and call it done!

Very proud of this build so far! The cloak was a task. Let’s take a break.

I wanted to take a tiny break from sewing and work on some of the prop pieces for Doctor Strange. I was very lucky to have a great buddy from Twitter 3D print me the Eye of Agamotto (that works!), a sling ring, and the 2 triangle clasps on the cloak. SO MANY THANKS TO @JediJeremy. Seriously dude, thank you. Once I got the pieces, I painted them with gold leaf paint and then weathered with acrylic paint.

After the gold prop pieces were done, I moved to make the vest and tunic. Originally I thought I was going to completely draft these pieces with my own measurements, but I was just getting tired and I knew I could chop up the McCalls 7676 pattern to fit me just fine I made some mockups and did a lot of alterations, but it worked and fit great. If you want to use this pattern for your own Doctor Strange, go for it! Just be aware of the alterations you will have to do especially if you are trying to fit it around curves. I ended up raising the waistline up like 4-6 inches, thus also raising the hems too. Plus taking it in a lot on the sides and shoulder line.

As I stated above, I used simple linens and cotton for the fabrics. Just having the tunic and vest color is a tad different than the other. I completed the tunic using the McCalls pattern and added my own details like the striped pattern around the neckline. Those are just top stitched ribbons layered on each other. I ultimately ended up removing the zipper and just having it open. Worked better for the neckline. 

Now the vest. The details I added into my vest are some of my favorite parts of the entire outfit. The best part of that is that it was pretty simple just time-consuming. Following the pattern from McCalls and then altering to my size, I then chose an X shaped embroidery stitch on my Bernina sewing machine. With about 4 different blue colored thread, I stitched vertical line after vertical line alternating the different blue colors. Take a look.

Neat! The last thing I added to the vest was to the shoulders. I wanted a sharp shoulder with a bit of padding but not a lot. So I grabbed the super structure foam that I spoke about above, cut a should pad shape and ironed it on. Then ran some more vertical stitches through to give it a quilted look. Loved it! To finish out the vest, I added random ribbons and selvage edges of fabrics to the armhole edges. Turned out great!

OK! Almost done. The waist cincher corset was simple.

I just used McCall’s 7555 Yaya Han underbust corset. I altered it to what I needed but it worked just fine. Used some heavy black cotton fabric.

Now what’s left are the belts, cuffs, boots, and wig. I purchased two “belt” trims from Joann’s and did little to no major alts to them. The main belts were made from black yarn woven into a 5 strand braid, the other belt I purchased was some black vinyl trim woven into a 4 strand braid. BOOM! I added brown vinyl bias to the black vinyl belt on the edges then hand sewed on snaps. Next, the woven belt was a bit different. View the photos below to get a good grasp of the pattern of that particular belt. Once I figured out the shape, I created the silver ring from EVA foam coated with plasti-dip and silver paint with black weathering spots too.

The details I added next are near and dear to me. With every costume I create, I give the opportunity for anyone to become a part of my costumes via donations through the site, Ko-Fi. Any donation made to my cosplays fund, I will add your name into my outfit somewhere/somehow. For this outfit, my donators got their initials etched into the metal details on my belt. Take a look!

To finish up the belts, I took some black leather strands and wrapped the silver ring. Then I took more of the leather strands and wove it into the knitted black belt. See below

  Ok, belts are done! Move to the cuffs, these were easy in my opinion. First thing is to pattern your forearms, yes both because most people have two different sized forearms, then cut out 4 pieces of fabric with your pattern. 4 pieces because you will need to layer to make the cuffs more durable. Joann’s gets another win here because the trim pieces I found where from here too. Thanks Joann. Also, don’t forget to grab two separating zippers for your cuffs. Take a look at how I created them below, don’t be afraid to get a little haphazard with your placement.

After the cuffs where done, I then hit it with an airbrush to weather it. Anytime I can airbrush things, I’m all about it.

ARE WE DONE YET?! Nope! Hang tight, boots and wig left. My boots were super easy, basically, I purchased some cute knee high lace up boots from Amazon, then stitched on blue linen scraps. Yup, done. lol. I also airbrushed them too. Can’t stop, won’t stop. AIRBRUSH!

LAST THING! HERE WE GO. Wig time. I had the wonderful opportunity to win a seasonal sponsorship from Arda Wigs for my Doctor Strange cosplay. The sponsorship would cover my wig costs. THANKS, ARDA! So the wig and wig parts I chose are the Virginia Classic Lace Front in Dark Brown and Silver weft to tie in the sides of the wig. I actually made a Youtube tutorial video on the creation of the wig so take a peek below!

The last thing I want to add is my super awesome spell prop made by my buddy, Bubblesgal0re. If you are interested in grabbing one for yourself, shoot her an email!

If you have any questions at all, please feel free to contact me through email or any of my social media. I’m always ready to answer questions you have about your or my builds. Thank you so much for reading another long How-To blog post. I do appreciate it. My next posts will be all about my Luke Skywalker and Qi’ra build. MTFBWY ❤ Amanda

Doctor Strange photos from Alexandra Lee Studios

  Let’s get Strange. May I present, DOCTOR STRANGE! Yes, I'm Mr. Cumberbatch can't you tell?! Well I will tell you that I'm not Stephanie Strange.

[silver-the-cat]

Jack In Wonderland - Part 1 of God knows how many I’m gonna make

((Okay, so I saw that one Alice in Wonderland AU that @alexisdevil made with their absolutely awesome moodboards and the completely awesome art that has so far been made for it. So I decided to throw my hand in writing some kind of story about it. I’m completely sorry if this isn’t the best and I will not deny I’m still kind of working a few things out as I go along, but I’ve gotten most of it done and figured out. I am, however, kinda proud of how I started it and the fact that I actually finished it. 

Anyways, enough with the rambly author notes stuff, let’s get into the main act! Hope you all enjoy!))

Falling, falling, falling. That’s all he could remember. Just him, falling through a deep, deep hole. He wasn’t even sure how he had gotten there. It was definitely an accident, he was sure of that much. But how? Where had the hole come from?

“But thank you guys so much for watching this video! If you liked it, PUNCH that like button in the face, LIKE A BOSS!”

Maybe he had been outside when it happened. Walking along before the earth suddenly crumbled underneath his feet, the ground swallowing him hole. No, no, that couldn’t be right. Holes don’t just randomly open up underneath people for no reason.

Maybe he had seen something while walking, an animal or a tiny glimmer of an object shining in between a tree and hole. Curious, he tried to peer in, only to lose his balance and tumble down. It seemed to be the most logical explanation, but he couldn’t be too sure.

“And high fives all around.”

How long had he been falling? It’s had to at least been hours by now. A part of him also refused to believe that a natural hole, a kind that would just normally happen in nature, would be this deep. If it was, clearly he would feel the temperature change. That, or be fried alive by the intense heat of the earth.

“But I will see all you dudes….”

The more he fell, the more he thought and wondered. Very quickly, he realized there was just this pounding right in the back of his head. It seemed to even twinge with every new thought, which would’ve made him flinch if he had any kind control over the rest of his body.

“IN THE NEXT VIDEO!”

The end of the fall came all too soon. The next thing he knew, the ground hit him hard. He couldn’t think after that, too distracted by the overwhelming pain in every single part of his body. A dull ache that spread quickly from his back to his legs and arms, creeping up his neck and finally reaching his head.

And with that came the blissful embrace of complete unconsciousness.

The very next thing he could remember vividly was just white.

Lying in a spotless white bed with fluffy white blankets with fancy patterns embroidered into the fabric. The patterns were all abstract, but he quickly realized a good chunk of them all had a heart hidden somewhere in the stitching. He raised himself onto his elbows, a bit surprised at the effort it took to complete such a simple action.

The rest of the room was just as white as the bed, with small little hearts all hidden in the moulding of the walls, or placed in giant pictures that sometimes even stretched from floor to ceiling. As for furniture, however, it seemed to be very sparse. All he could see between the bed’s curtains was a chair right next to a table and window, a wardrobe, and what, oddly enough, looked like a cart with different medical equipment still sitting on it. He even noticed with a twinge of horror that one of the tools was still tinged a dark reddish brown. 

He instead stopped trying to focus on the room, narrowing his eyes as his mind worked rapidly. He could remember falling, wondering greatly about exactly how he had gotten into that mess and how deep that hole was, when he suddenly hit solid ground. After that, a complete blank. 

“Absolutely wonderful…” He murmured, almost recoiling at the sound of his own voice. Hoarse and more quiet than usual, as if he hadn’t even used it in years. How long had he exactly even been out?

He took a couple moments to push himself up further, resting his back against the headboard of the bed for support while he put his face in his hands, breathing in deeply. Nothing was making any damn sense to him, one minute he was falling and the next, waking up in some bed with no clue as to how he had gotten there.

Just as he had said himself, absolutely wonderful.

Something suddenly broke him out of his thoughts. The sound of a door creaking open slowly, before quickly being pulled back and closed. He lowered his hands, quickly glancing around for the source of it. When he heard it again, he found out the door was literally right in front of him, almost invisible as it looked exactly like the wall did and it was hard to tell them apart at this distance. For a split second, he saw what looked like a head, slowly peeking out from behind it before pulling back in.

“Um….Hello? Is there someone there?” He called, raising his eyebrows slightly. The person behind the door seemed to finally gain enough courage, pushing the door open and stepping into the room.

It was a man, almost the same age as he was, wearing a pale gray sort of uniform with a small heart pinned just over where his real one would be. What he considered to be the most interesting part about this man was the fact that his uniform seemed slightly torn up, holes revealing deep red cuts littered across his body. This man even had a huge gash across his cheek, as if part of his mouth had been slashed open. He even moved across the room with a slight limp, his eyes having a kind of tired glaze over them. It was almost as if he had been raised from the dead.

“You….You awake now?” He said slowly, looking as if he was physically sounding out each word with hesitancy. “G...Good….Everyone getting worried…..I very worried…..king was worried too….”

“Erm….I guess I really appreciate that, but….I’m just a bit confused.” He replied, making the man tilt his head a small bit. “Who...exactly are you? And what the hell even happened?”

“Oh! Name is Robbie!” The man said, putting on a tired smile and raising one arm to his chest. “King said he made me to be rook….but not sure what that means. So I just stay here in castle.” He simply nodded, while Robbie nervously took a few steps closer in. “Um….is your turn now!”

“Uh….What? My turn?” He repeated, even pointing to himself as well.

“Yeah! I tell my name, you tell yours!” Robbie nodded. “It only fair. King taught me that it important to be fair, right?” He bit his lip slightly, silently agreeing to that. 

“Sounds like this King guy knows a lot. Alright then, my name…” He finally said, earning the tiniest squeal of happiness from Robbie. “I’m….I’m Sean, but most people just call me Jack. You….also didn’t answer my question before. The second one.” Robbie only gave him a confused look, tilting his head again. “I don’t know how I got here, so I was kinda hoping that, well maybe, you had any idea?” Robbie’s entire face scrunched up slightly, making a few more scars visible from where Jack was at least.

“...Nuh-uh.” He finally said, shaking his head and putting his hands behind his back like a small child. “Only heard you were here from king and Angus. No clue how you got here, am really sorry.” Well, that figures. Jack thought, trying not to let him see his own disappointment. He opened his mouth to say something else, although he wasn’t even sure what he was going to say. However, Robbie suddenly gave a small jolt, glancing over his shoulder to the door. Footsteps sounded from the hallway outside, clicking against the floor loudly.

“Robbie! Is zhat you?” A voice still from outside the door, not too far away in fact, called, making the scarred man jump slightly. “I told you to stay out of zhere. I understand you’re curious and vorried, but I promise you have I everyzhing under control!” 

“A-Am sorry! J-Just heard something a-and thought should go check!” Robbie cried, holding his hands up in defense and spinning around to face the door. Jack narrowed his eyes, trying to look around Robbie as the footsteps stopped just outside the door.

It was a new man, dressed in a white lab coat over a gilded vest and the palest blue sweater he had ever seen. A similar heart was pinned onto his chest, almost exactly like the one Robbie had. This new man also wore glasses, the frames a light gray with silvery vine-like decorations wrapping around them.

“Again, I understand you only vant to help and zhat you’re curious, but I need you to stay out of here.” The man said, adjusting his glasses slightly. “I have everyzhing completely under control, I promise. I just need you to….” He suddenly trailed off, mostly likely finally catching a glimpse of Jack, completely awake and sitting up even.

“Yeah….He awake! I thought heard something, so I go check only to find him awake!” Robbie quickly said, giving a small smile. “His name Sean, but people call him Jack! He seem nice, but he confused too!”

“Uh….I can still talk for myself?” Jack said a bit awkwardly, raising a hand slightly. The new man simply looked between both him and Robbie, before seemingly recollecting himself, taking a deep breath.

“Robbie, Angus is looking for you. He says he needs you on vatch.” He said simply. “I….need to speak vith….vhat did you say your name vas...er...Jack?” The only response he got was a nod from both Robbie and Jack, although Robbie looked certainly more upset than Jack did. 

“Ok….but wanna see Jack again too!” Robbie complained, pouting as the man walked farther into the room. “Get to see him after watch, right?”

“Ja, ja, of course. Just get going before Angus comes himself.” The man said, waving it aside as he grabbed one of the chairs. Robbie looked excited, waving to Jack before he ran back out of the room and down the hall. “He really is quite zhe sveetheart, he vas vorried sick vhen ve had first found you.”

“I...could tell.” Jack replied, rubbing the back of his neck as the man pulled the chair closer to the bed. “He seemed like a good guy, even if he does look a bit….startling, if I’ll be completely honest.”

“Ah, yes. I tried my hardest to heal zhose vounds, but it’s razher hard to suture a scratch on a zombie.” The man laughed slightly, making Jack flinch back just a bit. At least that cleared up the mystery about the tools. “Anyvays, dreadfully sorry for how confusing zhis all must be. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Henrik von Schneeplestein, and zhis is zhe Vhite Hearts Kingdom.”

“White Hearts Kingdom….wait, what?” Jack repeated. “Listen, as far as I can remember, there’s literally no place or country on earth called the White Hearts Kingdom.” Schneeplestein only looked a bit confused, needing to look Jack up and down once more before realization suddenly flashed across his face.

“You said your name vas Sean, but most people still call you Jack, correct?” He asked, only to receive a nod. “Vell, it seems zhis is much more serious zhan I had zhought. For you to find a vay into Vonderland, and to end up completely unconscious upon entry vith multiple injuries as vell….zhis clearly can’t be a good sign….”

“Ex...cuse me? Would you mind explaining what the hell you just said for the people who don’t understand?” Jack said, making Schneeplestein jump slightly in response. “What did you just mean by ‘Wonderland’? Is this place just like that one story, like ‘Alice in Wonderland’?”

“I suppose. I’m not actually too sure on vhat zhis place even is.” Schneeplestein admitted with a small shoulder shrug. “But all zhat you really need to know is zhat a lot of people know you, specifically, around here. And...not exactly everyvone here is….as velcoming as eizher Robbie or I are.”

“Y’know, the way you said that, it sounded as if you had someone specific in mind.” Jack pointed out. “That is, if I just ignore the fact you told me that literally everyone here in wherever this place is knows exactly who I am despite the fact I have no clue what this place is.”

“A number of people….but only vone of zhem is actually zhreatening.” Schneeplestein said, seemingly ignoring his last comment. “However, I do not vant you to vorry about zhat just yet. In fact, I merely vant you to rest. You vere in terrible shape vhen I had found you.”

“Are you even gonna tell me what happened that ended with you bringing me here?” Jack asked, as Schneeplestein stood once more.

“In due time. I’m afraid it isn’t a very interesting story anyvays.” He said with a small smile. “I vill be back later, just rest up for now. I’m sure Robbie vill be back later, and he might even bring Angus vith him, who knows.” Jack couldn’t help but pout slightly, but still obeyed his orders. This man, despite the possibility that he had somehow managed to bring someone back from the dead, reminded him greatly of a doctor, which should’ve been a given considering the medical tools still left in the room. If there was anyone to order him to at least rest for a while, it would be him.

As Schneeplestein closed the door behind him, Jack felt himself growing tired. No matter how much he wanted to stay awake and just think everything over several times and try to piece everything together, he did admit he needed some kind of rest. A bit defeatedly, he laid back down and almost instantly fell asleep once more.

There would be time to think later.

“W̡̽ͪͭ̌̉Hͯ̂̉͘AŢͮͨͬ̄̌ͨ̚?̾̎̇̆̀͑ͪ!ͭͤ̔”

“T-T-That’s all I heard….H-He was f-f-found by the King of White H-Hearts…”

“I go through all the d̄̀̚͠a̡ͧ́ͬ͑̓m̓̀̑͢n͌̐̈́͂̔͜ ̒̆ͧt̴̋ŗ̑̊̂o̓͂̀uͩ̓ͤͮͩ̅b̿̓͐̀̃̚͜l̴̐e̢̊̅̅ͣ ̡̈́ͣͣ̓of̾́͌̓̅̉̇ br̒͆͂iͭͣ͐̅ͧn̉g̓̉̎̈̾̀̚íͦ̓̑n̎g͂̄ͧ͗ͬ̚͏ him here, just for that B͛̓Aͮ̅̏S̴̚T̶ͬ̇̔̉̐Ȁ̐͊̾̇̀Ȑ̔͌̈Dͫ decides to snatch him away?! D͛̃̊̽͂͝Aͩ͛ͥ͑͗͟ḾMͯͪ̑̅̽͑͑I̍̐͐̿̓͘Ť!!”

“I-I mean….i-i-it could always be just another rumor! M-M-Maybe he might be s-somewhere else in Wonderland!”

“Shut it. If the guards haven’t fͦ͊̒̆ͣͣ͞ǫ̐ųͮ̌̽̊̌͑͋n̿̚d̋ ̴̍̔ͬ̎̾̽͌h̅̌̃̓ͮ̕iͤͨ̉ͫ̋͂m͆̅̎͞ ̛͂̑ͣ̂y̡̓́̿̈́̀ͫë̎͢t̅̑̽̆̄ͮ̅, those Iͫ̆̌͆̍̕DI͊̔͌͌ͯOͭ͑̌ͦ͒̉ͧ͝TS̽̐̉ͨ̃͡ aren’t going to find him ever. I’m going to need to get c̐͌̾̀ͣre̷ͯ̔̆̃ă̓͒̀҉t̃͏iv̿̎͢e̾̉ͣ with this….“

“C-Creative? W-Wait….w-w-what are you going to….?”

“Oh mͩ͛e͛͆̅ͯş̇̎sͭ̏ͥ̑͑̏e̴̋ͬ̂̿̄̉ͧnͥͯ͒g̍̋͜e͐̽͋̉͟r̢̋̓ͣ ͠B̐ͬͭ̏Ǫ̔ͤ̔̇̎ͮY̨̑̈, I’m going to have quite the job for you! Open those ears of yours. I͟ ͊́n̐̌̉ͦ̚͜e̽̅ͣ̀e̋̃̅̒ͮͫd̢̒ͦ̈ ̢ͧa̸ͣͨͯ̎ ͯ̐̿͒ṗ̸ͣ͛̾ͬ͆u͒̅̾͛͐̃p̸ͪ̽̂͛ͮ̒̚pͥ̉̈ͮ̎ë́̍̋̈́t̀͛ͫͯ̐̑ ̌͑͒͒w͊ho͒̅̓͐͐̓'̂ͩs̴̚ ̈͂̌͐ͫͥ̿͜l͞ȋ̧̐ͫͨͫ̀̒s̃́t͂en̊̅͑͊͆ͥ̀̚ïͫ̿͗ͧ͗̚͘n͒̂̏̑́ͫͫg̋͆ͤͬ ̛͆̽ͩͤͪw͐ͨ̽̒ͫe̛ͧ̉ͪͯ͗̅l͜l̨̿ ̋͑͊̃ͥ͟a̓͌͂̃fͭ͂t̶͆̋ͦ̃̈̓͐eͣ̀r͂͑ͤͤ́̀́ ̈́̐͗ͤͦa̋ͬl̡̑̇̀̇ļ.”

((Ok, so I had a few things different than @alexisdevil has in their AU, specifically Robbie being the Dormmouse, but I kinda wrote this before they made that post so here we are. Again, this is such a super awesome AU and I just want to contribute in any way I can. So I hope you all enjoyed and, tbh whether or not more people want it, I’ll make more parts and possibly actually finish the story.

Also super sorry if my writing turned to absolute crap towards the end, I wrote this over the span of 2 days with school and several brain farts and minor cases of writer’s block getting in the way. But still, I hope you all enjoyed! Buh-bye!))

[unholyhelbiglinked]

The Mitchell Incident | Chapter Six

CHECK OUT THE STORY FROM THE BEGINNING

[TW: BLOOD, NEEDLES]

The anger filled her cobalt eyes, her jaw taught with pure rage as the wall behind the girl echoed under the sudden weight. Her breath was knocked from her lungs, the girl's own gaze shocked and confused as the papers she held tumbled to the floor. They were files- files about other patients and diseases that Chloe couldn’t name.  

Her mouth was dry, like cotton or blood. Her mind scrambled. She didn’t even know what blood would taste like. It made her stomach churn and throat tighten at the thought of it. The thought of getting an ounce of something she had only gotten when she bit the inside of her lip.

Beca had her fingers wrapped around a doctor’s collar. Her knuckles were white and features contorted into pain. Urgency. She was steady in her movements, lips parted slightly as the woman under her grasp knit her eyebrows together.

“Beca,” Chloe dared, not trying to get any closer to Beca than she already was. Her eyes were racing to either end of the hallway- watching those damned automatic doors for any sign of movement. None came. Not in a small town like this one. Even with flu season on its brink it was quiet.

The brunette’s attention faltered, but she didn’t release the woman from her grasp. “What happened to our little deal, huh?”

“It’s been years, Beca.” The blonde croaked out. “Regulations have changed. Everything has changed.”

“For me, maybe.” The smaller girl drew in a sharp breath “But for her? Gail, come on. I will teach her. I will, you know me. But I can’t if she dies. Look at her.”

As slow breath filled the air before the doctor’s eyes slowly made their way to Chloe’s. She stared for a few moments, squinting her eyes as she took the girl in. She was slumped in her stance- a hood coving up the beginning of a nasty gash on her throat. There were black veins leading away from the source, a slick coat of sweat forming on her collarbone and dripping past her temple. She was shivering like she was cold, though.

Gail shoved her counterpart off of her, Beca relenting as the woman’s caring nature took over instead of her unwillingness to help an old family friend. Beca stepped aside, scratching the back of her neck as she gave a guilty look to her new companion.

The doctor stuck her chilled hand under Chloe’s chin, turning her head to the side as she winced in pain. She swallowed roughly, trying to lull the burn of having someone that close once more. Instead of vanilla or cinnamon.

“Fine,” She let out a long sigh, “Follow me.”

Beca gave Chloe a small shrug as the doctor started to walk with a certain stride towards the edge of the hallway. There were mahogany doors with glass smoky panes of glass. Gold lettering was marked on the edge, words written and meaningless. It reminded Chloe of personal investigators or old-time legal offices. She followed regardless, trying to ignore the icy feeling in the back of her throat.

Gail Abernathy, Technetium. Was sprawled against the glass in the same blocked lettering. She struggled with her keys just like Professor Aurum did. The files were left untouched on the other end of the hallway, all three girls forgetting about the once important paperwork.  

“I don’t run a charity here.” The woman spoke, pushing the door open with a creak. She flicked on the golden light, making Chloe squint as she let out a shuddered breath. She didn’t quite understand what she was saying. Her eyes darted to the picture frames on the wall, family and a black lab that had a golden bone attached to the red leather collar. “If you want something, I get something in exchange. Sit.”

Chloe didn’t know what to do at first, it took a slight pressure on her shoulder from Beca for her to finally lower herself into the seat. It was cold, one of those shitty chairs that had fabric ripping at the seams and a bright splotchy yellow pattern.

“One ounce.” She spoke, reaching down to a mini-fridge in the corner. It was hidden away behind some printers and a couple of other documents. She had a hand turkey painting hung on bright green construction paper. The surface scrunched where too much paint had been used- dripping and messy just like the very blood she presented a few moments later.

It was in one of the opaque plastic bags that Chloe had only seen once at a blood drive for the Red Cross, and maybe on television a couple of times. It was never a sight to get enthralled about, yet now, her jaw was aching as that same burning ignited in her throat. She felt a rough pressure behind her eyes as she stifled a cough. She hadn’t realized Beca’s touch growing strong enough to crack a bone. She was holding her in place.

“You can have this.” Gail spoke with confidence as she let the sloshing liquid shift on the mahogany desk, “If I can have the same in return.”

“Fine.” Beca released her grip momentarily as she begrudgingly started to roll up her sleeve. The leather made an odd sound as it bent under he mercy. She stopped once the jacket was all the way above the fold of her elbow. “Just make it quick, please. I hate needles.”

“Interesting,” Gail leaned forward a bit, “But not from you, Mitchell. I have enough samples. I need the blood of someone in transition.”

“She’s too weak.” Beca snarled, instantly becoming a form of protection again as her fingers found Chloe’s shoulder again. “Taking that much will kill her.”

“Waiting for the perfect opportunity to get the fresh stuff will have the same effect.” Gail pointed out “Take it or leave it, Beca. It’s your choice.”

“I’ll do it.” Chloe finally spoke up, shocking the two in the room. She had been so quiet during all of this. She didn’t really know how to speak her mind when it came to gambling. This wasn’t for poker chips either. This was for something that Chloe couldn’t quite describe. She just knew she wanted whatever was in that bag more than anything. The scent was sweet and potent, her mouth watering as she shoved up her own sleeve- skin pale as those same black veins pulsed right under a soft colored canvas.

“Mm,” Gail got a mischievous smile on her pink lips as she pulled a kit from under her desk. Chloe positioned her arm right against the corner of the mahogany. Gail had lowered herself into a seat pushing the leather wheeled chair over to the girl. She wasn’t gentle with her movements.

She pulled a blue rubber strip from the little plastic box, tying it tight around Chloe’s upper arm. It pinched and pulled uncomfortably as the girl winced, Beca drawing in a long breath. She didn’t say a word though. “This might pinch a little.”

Chloe swallowed roughly as she closed her eyes and put her head back. It was something that she always did when blood was drawn. If she didn’t watch the needle pierce the vein than it wasn’t really there. It was just a discomfort that she could shove from her mind. This time, it felt draining though. Like her whole entire life was halting as the little glass tube filled with black blood.

“That’s enough,” Beca said.

Chloe was confused, it felt as if seconds had gone by, not enough time to grasp an ounce of blood from dry veins. She didn’t object though, instead of opening her eyes to the doctor wiping away excess liquid to the purple top of the vile as she placed it in the fridge with her lunch.

“Chlo,” Beca’s voice was soothing as she knelt in front of the girl, Gail watching curiously the brunette grasped the cold bag of blood. Its contents were dark, so dark that it was almost pitch.

A little plastic tip seemed to stop the syrup from moving from the end. Beca disregarded it, taking the edge in her mouth as she bit into the malleable plastic. It ripped easily enough, filling the room with the most fragrant smell that Chloe had ever experienced.

Crimson dripped against the edge of Beca’s pensive stare as she situated the small straw-like tube. She placed her free hand against Chloe’s jaw, drawing the girl’s attention once more. She was out of it, barely paying attention to anything that was happening in front of her. Exhaustion was racking her body, pain not a stranger.

“I need you to stay with me, alright?” Beca raised a brow as she used her thumb to part Chloe’s lips slightly, the girl wanting to squirm away as the first taste of blood finally soaked into her taste buds. It was overwhelming, the copper like swallowing a penny.

She coughed, spitting it back out as she shook her head in a grumbled voice, Beca trying to steady the ginger as much as she could. The blood dripped down her chin as she shook her head.

“Hey, I know” Beca coaxed once more, Chloe hating the taste, but despising the burn that followed right after. It was enticing, her fingers finally working around the plastic bag as she grabbed it herself- starting to gulp down the blood like she had been stranded in the desert for over a month with no access to water. That’s what it felt like, at this point, she didn’t’ care if she choked. She didn’t care about the doctor or the vampire who had changed her into this. Not when she finally had the relief that she was craving.

Beca sat back on her heels, letting out a small sigh of content as she glanced back at Gail. Her expression was almost taunting as color started to return to Chloe’s cheeks. The warmth never would, but at least she looked a little less like an extra from the walking dead and more like a colleges student surviving off of instant noodles.

Chloe let out a long breath as she finally pulled the bag away from her, the contents completely gone as she finally blinked her way back into some form of reality. Some form of consciousness that didn’t have a strong ache attached to it.

The brunette smiled, letting out a puff of air as she wiped the bright crimson from the corner of the girl’s mouth. “Welcome back, Red.”      

[A/N: I really can’t tell if people like this on not, but I”m having fun so I’m gonna keep writing] 

[fireflysummers]

MOB PSYCHO 100 FANFICTION Job Offers

Serizawa outgrows Spirits and Such.

Nobody is happy with this.

There’s a man in a tan suit, exuding the same oily persona that Reigen does at times, but with far greater amounts. For some reason, he sets Serizawa’s teeth on edge, makes his skin crawl, and he makes a conscious decision to put Reigen between them.

They meet on the sidewalk, outside of a supposedly haunted house. The client is so sure of the haunting that he’s hired two psychic agencies, to ensure that the building is ready for renovations.

There’s no spirit there. Serizawa knows this, and nods at Reigen to make sure that the other man knows as well. All this has become routine, a familiar pattern that he can slip into, and try to forget the other man accompanying them of their tour.

The exorcism is, of course, uneventful. Reigen throws salt, the client pays in cash up front, and they part ways.

Or at least, that’s how it was supposed to go.

“Hey.” The other man’s voice stops them before Serizawa and Reigen can begin the walk to the train station. “You, tall one. You’re the real deal, aren’t you?”  There’s an unspoken implication that Reigen, however, is not.

The client is already long gone, excitedly giving the green light for tomorrow’s renovations. There’s no danger to Reigen at the moment, but Serizawa’s skin crawls as the man speaks.

“Oh?” Reigen turns and crosses his arms, eyes narrowed and calculating, sizing the man up in every way.

“You know he’s a real scam artist, don’t you?” the man continues, ignoring Reigen altogether and sidling up to Serizawa, close enough that he can finally feel the other man’s aura. An esper, for sure. A weak one, but he too is the ‘real deal.’

“I mean, I am too but everybody in the business—all the real espers, that is—know your boss is a fraud. He was all over the news back last October. You’d have to be hiding under a rock not to know that.”

Serizawa wants to respond, but his mind stalls, trying to process this information.  His mind flashes back, cataloging dates, wondering how he could possibly have missed this. And then it occurs to him that eight months ago in October, he had indeed been living under a metaphorical rock. Or an umbrella.

“All I’m saying is that you don’t have to hang around this guy, if you don’t want to,” the man gives him a sleezy grin, and with an oily slick motion slips a white business card into the pocket of Serizawa’s suit coat. “Our agency is always happy to bring new espers on board. Put your powers to good use, stop wasting your time with wannabes like this hack.”

With that, the man shrugs, turns, and leaves. Serizawa watches him go, still too stunned to properly register everything he’s been told. It takes him a moment to realize that Reigen has already begun walking, leaving Serizawa to jog to catch up.

 When they get back to the office, Reigen immediately sits down at his desk. He’d barely said a word on the way home, uncharacteristically quiet with hands eerily still at his sides. There’s an expression in his eyes that Serizawa can’t place, one that he doesn’t like.

The expression doesn’t fade as Reigen clicks away at his laptop. Doesn’t fade when Serizawa brings him a cup of tea.

As Serizawa turns away to return to his usual place to do homework, Reigen catches him, a hand resting on his forearm.

“Hold on,” Reigen says, actually getting to his feet and motioning for Serizawa to take the seat. “I…well, I should’ve shown this to you earlier, but I don’t really like looking at the files myself.”

Confused, Serizawa sits awkwardly behind Reigen’s desk, using the mouse to peruse the folder Reigen has dug from the depths of his archives.  There are about two dozen pdfs and a couple video files, all dated within a couple weeks of each other.

He doesn’t want to look.

He doesn’t know what is in those files, but he doesn’t want to know.

Serizawa feels his stomach clench and wants more than anything to return to his usual seat, but Reigen is watching him expectantly. So Serizawa swallows his anxiety and begins clicking through the archive.

They’re newspaper and magazine articles, and television news reports. With each successive report, Serizawa clutches tighter at the mouse, a nearly foreign rage rising from somewhere inside him. The final video, cut short by the explosion of electric lights and the destruction of news cameras, does nothing to set it aside. When at last he closes the file, he sits there in utter silence, trying to wrestle down his emotions enough to speak.

Reigen beats him to it.

“Sorry that’s…real bad,” he confides, and there’s a grating honesty in his voice that rubs against Serizawa’s skin like sandpaper. “I really should’ve told you before, I guess. Waiting until I didn’t have a choice makes me look sketchier, but well…” It’s never a good sign when Reigen flounders with words.  But his distress only serves as fuel to Serizawa’s anger.

“Look, Serizawa,” Reigen says at length, “I’m not an esper.”

The silence stretches out between them. Reigen’s face is entirely closed now, waiting for a rejection he’s resigned himself to.

Serizawa lets out a long breath, the hot air hissing between his teeth.

“I know,” he says, forcing himself to continue while Reigen gapes at him with eyes wide. “I  mean. My last job…I was supposed to find and fight espers. Some are better at hiding it than others, but…I can tell you aren’t one, Mr. Reigen.”

Reigen opens his mouth once, twice, an excellent impression of a fish struggling. And then he deflates, head bowed and cradled in his hand.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “I thought that’s why you were…”  Reigen sighs, and straightens. “It was all right, in the end, you know. Business went through a little boom after Mob’s little show of power at the press conference.”

“Besides,” he finishes, “I really…did it to myself. I was lucky Mob decided to come back and save my sorry ass.”

It’s really not all right, but Reigen is clearly done talking about it. He’s jumping topics again, faster than Serizawa can follow.

“So, a job offer!” Reigen says brightly. It takes Serizawa to catch on to what he’s talking about. When he does, he swears he can feel the little white business card burning in his pocket.

“It’s not really a job offer,” Serizawa mutters, ashamed that he hadn’t immediately thrown the card away.

“Of course it is!” Reigen says, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ll be graduating from high school soon, won’t you? You should probably start thinking about where you’re going to go then!”

Oh. Serizawa thinks, his stomach dropping.

It’s not like he hasn’t considered it before, envisioning a nearly boundless future where before he had none. But it’s always been a daydream, and hearing Reigen say it feels…wrong.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’ve always got a place with me!” Reigen says, backpedaling, “It’s just…the world is your oyster! You should live while you’re still young!”

Serizawa doesn’t want to point out that Reigen’s rehashing one of the speeches he uses on Shigeo-kun. Doesn’t want to point out that Reigen is younger than him, but doesn’t seem to have any grand visions for his own future either.

But instead, he agrees politely and excuses himself from Reigen’s desk to go back to do his homework.

For the rest of the afternoon, the business card feels like it’s burning a hole in his pocket.

 Serizawa is one semester away from graduating high school, and people are pointing him towards a career counsellor.

He doesn’t like the woman, with her stern eyes that peer out from rectangle glasses.  He’s wearing his normal business suit, but the way that she eyes him makes the familiar fabric feel…claustrophobic. Uncomfortable.

He has to physically stop himself from squirming, or worse, from pulling back into his shell.

(He finds himself desperately wishing that Reigen had accompanied him.)

“Mr. Serizawa, you have…quite a resume,” she says at length.

He knows he does. He and Reigen had worked hard on that single page document, fleshing it out to bring out his prior ‘work experience’ without screaming to the word ‘reformed terrorist.’ It’s still too vague, he suspects, but he’s sure as hell not going to discuss those four years of his life with this woman here.

“So tell me, Mr. Serizawa,” she begins again, after several seconds of silence, “Your current place of employment is…Spirits and Such Consultation?”

“Yes,” he nods, glad that she’s picked on the one line item he’s comfortable talking about.

“It’s not really…well. I’ll just come right out and say it. You’re going to have a difficult time finding a job, based on that alone.”

Serizawa sits in stunned silence, reeling from the words. The way that the woman speaks makes it sound like the consultation is shameful.  It’s not, he knows that as sure as the sun will rise, but her judgmental gaze still causes a blush to begin dusting his cheeks.

“You have a lot of potential, despite your late start in life,” she continues, “But I think you should consider seeking an internship somewhere, perhaps, to add some more…professional line items to your resume.”

“That aside, I would really suggest you look into careers with a little more stability. A small office like the one you work at must be barely compensating you, let alone offering benefits of any sort.”

That should feel like another dig at Reigen and his business, but this time Serizawa stops short. It’s true that he’s not paid much, but that’s never really bothered him before. He has funds left over from his time in CLAW, as well as a small inheritance left from by his mother. It’s not much, but he can live comfortably in his small apartment, and use his income from Reigen for food.

But Reigen…doesn’t have that luxury, he realizes now. Spirits and Such is his only source of income, and while business has picked up… he thinks back to the jokes he’s heard Kageyama’s brother make about how stingy the con man is, never compensating Shigeo-kun for his work. Thinks back to clients with little to nothing, who had their fees waived entirely. Thinks back to the meals Reigen has bought him after stressful days.

Thinks back, and for the first time wonders how much kindness costs.

The thought sits heavily in Serizawa’s stomach.

He barely makes it through the rest of the meeting, nodding vaguely at everything the counsellor says.

Back at the office, Reigen seems excited to hear about his talk with the counsellor. Normally, Serizawa would assume that it was the man’s normal excitement about his overall progress. Or at worst, that Reigen wanted to hear how well he’d done editing the resume.

But now, with thoughts of finances lingering over his head, the enthusiasm feels…different.

He leaves that day, ashamed that he did not notice sooner.

 He’s not going to work for that consultation office.

Or any consultation office, if he’s honest with himself.  The very thought feels like betrayal.

And that aside…if he’s going to leave Spirits and Such, he’d like to try something new. Something that doesn’t depend on his psychic abilities.

Even if it’s as dull as a desk job, it’s still something.

Secretly, he hopes to find something close to Spirits and Such. Close enough, maybe, to catch Reigen staying late at the office. Close enough to have plenty of excuses to take him out to dinner, in part to return the favor, and in part because…

He shakes the thoughts out of his head, and tells himself to focus on the tasks at hand.

 In the end, he finds a job. It’s well paid (compared to what Reigen has been paying him at least), but it’s a good distance from Spirits and Such.  He decides to take it though, after a long streak of bad luck. It turns out the counsellor, as condescending as she was, hadn’t been totally wrong about the state of his resume.

Reigen seems positively overjoyed when Serizawa presents to him the official offer letter, smacking him on the back and offering to take him out for a drink later. Unfortunately, Serizawa’s classmates had again beat him to it, and they’d had to reschedule for later in that week.

That, however, never entirely panned out because suddenly there was so much to do. And before Serizawa knows it he’s putting the few personal items he leaves at the office into a box, preparing to spirit them away to his new place of work.

Reigen helps, where he can, but clients come in and out as Serizawa packs, distracting the man. Soon, Serizawa runs out of ways to stall, and is left clutching his box and announcing his eminent departure. The office is blessedly quiet at that moment, and Reigen gets up from his desk and wanders over to where Serizawa stands, a strange knot of anxiety in his gut.

Reigen stands back a little ways, observing him with a crooked grin. There’s pride in his eyes, and the enthusiasm that he’s shown non-stop for Serizawa’s progress, but also something…else.

That something vanishes the moment Reigen begins to talk, vanishing into his exuberant words and rapid hand gestures.

“You got everything?” he asks, peeking into the box, “You sure you don’t want the stapler, to remember me by?”

“I’m not leaving for good, Reigen,” Serizawa replies, almost automatically.

“Sure, sure,” Reigen shrugs, tone unconvinced. “Either way, it’s the start of a new adventure, Serizawa! You should be proud of yourself!”

And he is. He really, really is.

If he’d told himself, not long ago, where he stood at this moment in time, his past self would not have believed him.

It feels good.

(Except that it doesn’t.)

That something has returned to Reigen’s demeanor, and he gently reaches a hand out, placing it on Serizawa’s shoulder. The look in the other man’s eyes is…calm. Placid, almost eerily so.

“You’ve grown up,” he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re going to be amazing, Serizawa. Text me, and we’ll get drinks, okay?”

“Thank you, Reigen,” Serizawa hears himself say, and almost in a daze, turns and leaves.

 The world outside is bright, almost blindingly so, but Serizawa barely notices. There’s no spring in his step, no feeling of a excitement for the unlimited future ahead. His thoughts are jumbled again, but amidst all the mental noise Reigen’s farewell continues to ring.

You’ve grown up.

It takes him a moment to place where he’s heard Reigen say that before, in that same way.  

The video of the press conference.

He’d only seen the video that once, and at the time had been so furious he could barely hear above the sound of his own heartbeat. But that’s when he’d said it before, right before the film was cut short in a show of psychic powers.

He remembers Reigen’s sparse explanation.

I really…did it to myself. I was lucky Mob decided to come back and save my sorry ass.

He’d been so, so angry at the time…angry at the cruelty of the people that Reigen had helped. Angry at the jealousy of other self-proclaimed psychics towards him. Angry that anybody would go out of their way to hurt Reigen so deeply.

He hadn’t even paused to wonder how this could have happened.

He hadn’t paused to wonder why Shigeo-kun hadn’t been there in the first place, supporting his master as he always did.

He hadn’t paused to wonder why Shigeo-kun had to come back. That there had ever been a time when Shigeo-kun had left.

He’s probably overthinking it.

Except that, it’s not too late to check. Just in case.

With a split second decision, Serizawa whirls and almost sprints back to Spirits and Such.

 The office is exactly as he had left it, when he arrives. There’s something off, though, because he swears he hears a soft, watery gasp as the bell chimes to announce his return.

Reigen isn’t at his usual post, though, and the laptop is folded down and silent. It shouldn’t be hard to find him, but it takes a half second too long for Serizawa to spot where he sits on one of the couches. Reigen seems…smaller. He’s curled in on himself, so tightly that it looks like it hurts.

Of course, he immediately shifts when he hears the door chime, flying to his feet and stretching to make it look as though he hadn’t been hunched into a corner just a half second prior.

“Serizawa!” Reigen says, voice suspiciously thick. He clears his throat and manages to start the next sentence off with clearer tone. “I didn’t…did you forget something?”

“Yes,” he replies, slowly. Serizawa is watching Reigen’s face now. Eying red, puffy eyes and blotchy skin. Eying tear and snot tracks that had been hastily and unsuccessfully wiped away.

“Ah well. We’ll get you fixed up in a jiffy here,” Reigen confirms, nose obviously still a little stuffed. “I’m just…going to go make myself some tea.” He wants to escape into the kitchen area, Serizawa realizes. To compose himself. “You go ahead and look around for…whatever it is.”

“Reigen!” Serizawa’s tone is surprisingly sharp, desperate. He sends the box he’s still holding off, spinning away from him with idling psychic power. He crosses the space between them, hand outreached in an attempt to close the distance even faster. He manages to snag the sleeve of Reigen’s coat.

The other man has stiffened, eyes suddenly panicked. Before, there had been a chance that he could slip away to compose himself without anybody noticing his grave error. But now the signs were far too clear.

“Sorry,” Reigen says after a moment, “I didn’t…you weren’t supposed to see me like this.”

“Reigen,” Serizawa breaths, slowly adjusting his grip until both hands settle on Reigen’s shoulders. Still, the man does not look up at him.  The floodgates have been opened, the last bit of self-control vanished. Try as he might, Reigen can’t hide the returning tears.  He’s still mumbling though, watery words (mostly apologies), slipping out almost faster than Serizawa could follow.

“It’s pathetic, I’m sorry. I’m pathetic. I promise, I’m happy for you, I’m really happy for you, please don’t think…” his voice cracks a little, voice lowering to a whisper, “Please don’t think I’m trying to force you to stay here.”

One of Serizawa’s hands moves from Reigen’s shoulder, raising Reigen chin until their eyes meet. Or should meet, but Reigen still stubbornly looks away.

“Arataka,” he says at last, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Reigen jumps at the sound of his first name, and finally, finally returns Serizawa’s gaze. He’s searching for something, Serizawa realizes, and hopes desperately that Reigen finds whatever he’s looking for.

Except he can’t risk that, this time.

So instead, Serizawa bends down, planting a gentle kiss on Reigen’s forehead.

The other man gives a shuttered gasp, but instead of pulling away he leans in, closing what little space is left between them.

Encouraged, Serizawa gives another butterfly kiss. Then another. Slowly, gently. Down from Reigen’s forehead, down the bridge of his nose, down his tear-streaked cheek.  The tears have stopped now, though, replaced with wide-eyed shock and the awkward hitching-breaths that come after a good cry.

He pauses, a hair’s breadth from Reigen’s lips.

“I’m sorry,” he says, suddenly deeply ashamed, “I thought you wanted…needed me to go.”

Reigen’s mouth meets his, preventing him from apologizing forward.

And for once, there are no more words. Just the two of them, holding each other tightly, terrified at the thought of how close they’d both come to letting go entirely.

[connorrenwick]

Circular by Design: Wendy Andreu Turns Selvedges Into Innovative New Material

The circular economy is a proposed alternative to our traditional ‘take, make, waste’ model of production and consumption – one that offers hope in the face of environmental catastrophes from climate change to ocean plastic. Designing out waste and pollution, keeping materials and products in use and regenerating our natural environment are so important to contemporary design that we wanted to create a dedicated space for the projects bringing these ideas to life. Circular by Design, a fortnightly column by longtime contributor Katie Treggiden, will start by exploring the potential of waste as a valuable new raw material.

Paris-based designer-maker Wendy Andreu uses materials as a means of communication, experimenting to find surprising outcomes that can be translated into functional design proposals. She collaborated with performance fabric manufacturer Sunbrella to create a new innovative material from its waste selvedges – the woven or knitted edges of textile rolls that are usually discarded.

Tell me a little bit about your childhood, education, and background in terms of how you first became interested in creativity, design, and sustainability.

I was born in a rural area of the South West of France. Growing up with a father who was a technician in an aeronautic factory and a mother who was an insurance agent, I felt that my perspective there was quite narrow. I wanted to explore art and culture, so at the age of 14, I decided to study applied arts at a boarding school in the Basque country. There, I discovered the potential of the creative industries and knew what I wanted to do with my life. At 17, I moved to Paris to study metal craftsmanship at the Ecole Boulle, gaining a traditional and technical education. In 2012, I was accepted into the Design Academy Eindhoven. There, I was able to be a craftsperson as well as a designer – making and thinking all at the same time. I was really inspired by that approach and pushed out of my comfort zone to try things I would never have thought about trying. I graduated cum laude in 2016 with a collection of rainproof accessories made with a textile I had developed myself – and won the Dorothy Waxman textile prize and the public prize for fashion accessories at the Villa Noailles, Hyères.

How would you describe your Solid Selvedges collaboration with Sunbrella

Sunbrella makes performance fabrics for awning and shade structures, as well as marine canvas and upholstery for both outdoor and indoor applications. I was introduced to them by The New Order of Fashion [formerly Modebelofte – a  platform for interdisciplinary collaborations with emerging fashion talents] with the idea of sustainability and tackling waste in mind. Most of Sunbrella’s products are made with solution-dyed acrylic, a high-quality textile fiber that provides long-lasting colors and strong products. During production, the selvedges (the edge of a fabric – usually woven or knit so that it will not fray) of the textile rolls are discarded. Focusing on these selvedges, I created a composite material in which the discarded fiber from Sunbrella could become one of the raw materials.

What inspired this project?

I experiment with materials to understand their potential – I like to understand traditional techniques and then re-think how things are made. I am also very interested in small scale craftsmanship and I am very proud to produce only a few pieces each year, working with European suppliers and manufacturers. Sustainability is linked to how we produce goods – and this is a question that I ask myself every day. Which design choice will lead to the least waste? Which choice will create less pollution? By carefully thinking through all the options, applying knowledge and creativity, the best design outcomes can be reached. This particular research project was inspired by the material itself. The acrylic waste, once coated with a resin to make it waterproof, cannot be recycled, so I had to think about other ways to step in. I went to Lille to visit the Sunbrella factory and to understand the processes. I researched acrylic and acrylic properties. I spoke with people from the factory and try to understand the context and how this waste product be related to the same context? I was also inspired by carbon and glass fiber techniques, in which fibers are used to reinforce a resin – and I decided to give the Sunbrella fibers the same function. I didn’t want to use harmful transformation processes such as burning or melting, or use hazardous resins such as polyester or epoxy.

What waste materials are the products made from, how did you select that particular material, and how do you source it?

I limited myself to the selvedge. By focusing on a single type of waste, I was able to be efficient and precise in my research. Each waste stream has its own potential that can lead to its very own beauty. The key is to understand where the beauty stands, dig it out and translate it into a tangible proposal. Then waste becomes valuable. The Lille production site generates 70 tons of selvedges waste every year, so there is huge potential.

When did you first become interested in using waste as raw material and what motivated this decision?

I designed my first piece with waste as a raw material in 2018 in response to a brief from Laura Houseley and James Shaw to make a textile piece using plastic for the Plasticscene Exhibition they curated for LDF the same year. I contacted my rope suppliers, the Société Choletaise de Fabrication, and asked them if they could send me discarded polyester rope. I received a random selection of hiking boot laces in a diversity of colors and patterns. I bonded these laces together with a black polyurethane paste in order to create a rug. The use of waste always involves the randomness of the leftover and it was interesting to make a piece without being totally in control of the colors – I like to take advantage of this randomness as it always generates unique objects.

What processes does the waste material have to undergo to become the finished fabric?

The Sunbrella selvedges are cut into tiny squares and then reduced to fine fibers. These fibers are mixed with water-based, solvent-free acrylic resin to create a hard material. The acrylic fiber makes the material stronger by bonding with the acrylic paste – and gives the plaster-like resin a color. The resin can be poured into molds or coated onto existing forms. This process transforms soft and colorful textiles into a stone-like building material, extending the spectrum into which the Sunbrella textile can be applied. At this stage, the project is only a promising research project, but I would like to be able to push it further.

How did you feel the first time you saw the transformation from waste material to product/prototype?

I work step by step, so the first tests were small, flat, samples. They were promising as I liked their materiality and tactility. I was very keen to create molds as they allow production without waste. I designed molds in aluminum and kept the objects interesting, light and yet very abstract so people could envision many more possibilities with them. Everything worked out pretty well and I was very happy with the result. You can see and guess the fibers stuck in the resin – and some details of the colored fibers are quite beautiful as they layer in a very lively composition. It is very important to me that the designs I make are appealing and desirable.

What happens to the products at the end of their lives? Can they go back into the circular economy again?

Neither of the materials (the original waste selvedge fibers nor the resin) is biodegradable and neither can be recycled, unfortunately. However, I have turned a waste material which couldn’t be recycled into something that is made to last and won’t be destroyed easily, extending its lifespan.

How have people reacted to this project?

People were intrigued first and curious about the material – lots of people expected it to be much lighter than it is. It is interesting to notice the new aesthetics that can be created with waste – people could envision them for retail environments, interior design, objects, furniture… They also were craving to touch the material as it is quite tactile. I think these type of alternative materials are increasingly sought after as people become more and more interested in working with them. Companies big and small – be they manufacturers, retailers, or the fashion industry as a whole – will soon have no other choice but to think about their environmental footprint. Customers, then politics and laws, will push industries in this direction. In my opinion, the companies who don’t respond will decline fast.

How do you feel opinions towards waste as a raw material are changing?

The idea is still disgusting for many people, including designers – waste and garbage are not the most appealing things in the world. However, with a little bit more education on materials and how things are made, perhaps people can better envision products made from waste. It is the role of designers to create positive interpretations of waste or discarded products in order to create beauty. I wish that more industries and manufacturers would be open-minded enough to hire designers not only for their main objects, but also to think about their waste. It could be profitable for them on an ecological and economical basis. It is important to create appealing products and not make too much of the “trash aesthetic” that is often associated with waste.

What do you think the future holds for waste as a raw material?

Waste is the result of the Anthropocene. The amount of garbage is growing while available natural resources are becoming more and more scarce. Waste barely exists in the natural environment as nature works in cycles. Each element has a role and the outputs of one process simply become the inputs for another. It is easy to foresee a future in which waste becomes a raw material and an available resource. Waste is one of the materials of the future. In France a new law against overproduction comes into force next year: manufacturers and companies won’t be able to throw away or destroy their unsold products anymore. These products will need to be either donated or recycled. These very clean waste streams might be the beginning of a new perspective for materiality and production.

via http://design-milk.com/

from WordPress https://connorrenwickblog.wordpress.com/2020/07/07/circular-by-design-wendy-andreu-turns-selvedges-into-innovative-new-material/

[kaliiwashere]

Hollywood Siren of the Day - Dorothy Dandridge and Her Fashion Style

Can how we dress affect your quality of life? Some experts say it may. Of course dressing inappropriately to the season can lessen your body's body's defence mechanism, but that is only some of the way your wardrobe may potentially affect your wellbeing. Nor will be the physical element of health the only concern. You have the same constitute as almost every other person. Your body responds for the same stimuli. If you neglect certain parts of the items allows you to your identiity, you open yourself around many negative things. Whether put it into practice consciously or not, how we dress tells an account in regards to you. It lets people know how you really feel mentally in addition to physically. If you really feel good about yourself coming from a physical stance, you will have a tendency to wear clothing that showcases confidence along with a have a look at me aura., thereby, assisting to keep the body's defence mechanism healthy. However, should you not be ok with your physical state, regardless of what you put on it is going to show feeling of using clothes to cover up in plain sight of everyone; and that can suppress your immune system.

Designer clothes are authentic and original garments manufactured by the designers under their label and therefore are bought from exclusive stores and online. The customer will get expert advice from your creator as to what type of apparel is best suited for structure. The best way to discover is always to give them a go on and earn necessary alterations to give that perfect fit. Luxurious clothes are expensive due to immaculate stitching and finished. The client can proudly exhibit their finished garment and be the centre of attention.

Tradition is a valuable part of your life. You are mostly across the chronilogical age of 40. Your jewelry box includes a few timeless classic pieces just like a strand of pearls or even a vintage brooch. You avoid prints and prefer solids like black, red and white. You wear your timeless classic style and never the other way round. You know every time a drop of pearl earrings or perhaps a diamond bracelet is sufficient to reflect your personality. You prefer expensive products in your jewelry box which will go far and throw them away till they're worn out. You are always positive that you are going to look really good whatever the occasion even though you are going to not be the midst of everyone else, something that you always avoid. That is the reason you prefer playing it safe with one of these timeless classic fashion jewelry pieces. So if you need to put forth a normal persona, it could make sure your clothes satisfy your insides or at least match how you wish to feel. If your outfits cause website visitors to return looks and stares of negativity, you are the one that bares the brunt of the looks plus they really have an effect giving you. The more you are bombarded with that, the more it wears away at the all-around health. Another way to improve your all-around health with your dress is to step it a notch and cause onlookers to offer you the attention you want by wearing clothing and accessories that place you with a higher-level than your peers. Rather than just wear something common in casual or dress, why don't you push the barriers just a little and add some flair to what your don. Instead of just wearing a shirt, give a light scarf or ascot tie tied around your neck. Rather than picking out the normal tucked in shirt with dress coat and slacks, wear a thing that has an extended cuff and let your shirt tail hang out beneath your jacket more than a pair of designer jeans. It's sure to get some good eyeballs on you associated with smiles of admiration. That can only boost your immune system.

Locating the Right Materials

We are very mindful that choosing the right materials is quite tough, however, if you work hard you'll be able to surely do so. A large number of shops sell amazing fabrics that can be used for preparing costumes for role play. You need to buy high quality items set up price is too high. Get in touch with a trendy art and craft store that deals such items. Go for economical yet dependable options. You should never rule out Halloween stores. They can be quite economical also. Choosing the right colored fabric is most important. Another think about attempting to look good is your hair style. Natural Hair Extensions - What and the way? Don't wear ankle boots with the mistaken pair of pants. Having totally different types and colours of Ugg boots makes it potential to match your temper and Apparel Group Brands your clothes. People from the entire world go in fashion exhibits for having the knowledge of dressing sense. Discover a new method of having an intergalactic empire make selections. There may be a technique that is destined to achieve success in attracting others consideration. Never enable bad habits get in the best way of making your soccer video sport all it can be. Don't get me incorrect, sporting older fashion jewelry exhibits fashion too, which is an entire completely different conversation. Get a outstanding picture, not just very good, make it outstanding. This text will include both styles, however will make it a point to call out when something is more recent or dated so that you wont be out of the loop. It should not be the first thing you put on your face, since concealer is simply too heavy for an all-over coat that evens out your pores and skin tone. If you would like to buy a brand new cologne or cologne, try out a sample by the store very first.

People wish to look nice, and reading glasses are a terrific accessory for that since others look you in the eyes first. A properly made wig - even the quality artificial varieties - can look completely lifelike. You can look extraordinarily trendy while carrying designer leather bags and you can create a fashion assertion. And with the coming of a new school 12 months come the fall trends in fashion. At the tail end of last 12 months and the start of this 12 months there the place a large variety of in style kinds being sported by celebs that actually stood out. For a few years within the 90s baggy denims had been considered to be the biggest fashion statement, however slowly they ran out on followers. Barthelemy Thimonnier invented a sewing machine in 1830 and within ten years owned an 80 machine garment manufacturing unit that produced uniforms for the French army. As an alternative, many years later, at this time skinny jeans are ruling the runway and streets alike.

It's not that tough to be taught just what these attributes are either! Because the nineteenth twentieth, and twenty first centuries have shown, fashion developments are becoming historical past all the time, since traits are at all times evolving. Numerous modern ideas about fashion can be discovered online. Nonetheless, there was a notable enchancment in fashion manufacturing through the period of industrial revolution of the late 18th century. From a novel women’s dimension small to plus measurement clothes to the waist coaching corsets to the plus dimension corsets, there are options for everybody. Take the time to buy around before you purchase so that you're positive you are getting the best deal on one of the best products. So it is best to choose the ring that you really like and most closely fits your character. Deciding what to wear in family pictures could be simply as difficult as discovering the proper photographer. My advice is to go for what you like, no matter what the media tell you to wear. Thats why customers hesitate to decide on merchandise they need in front of varied kinds.

Tons of individuals like to hold across the mall and explore new products. Doing Famous internet options , you'll have space for extra fantastic discovers, and one other particular person is profiting from your unneeded items. Indian fashions, Indian artists and Indian models take part within the different events and performance happening abroad. In case you are FULL-BODIED AND SHAPELY, WOULD YOU CARE TO BE A PLUS Measurement Model? The good news is that these designer handbags are not only for the wealthy and famous. Males's ties are a perfect example. And, to be honest, these adjustments are value adopting, particularly if you are a fashion-loving lady. It’s simple, fast, and our fruits and vegetables are all the time contemporary so that you don’t have to fret about unintentionally touching a moldy peach. The police and press at the time characterized all Mexican American youth as petty criminals, and White sailors and Marines, who have been offended by the very thought of zoot suits, have been solely too completely satisfied to have their stereotypes confirmed. The patterns should be traced and the seam allowances added in. It is only not your issue.

In truth, this can be a trending model in terms of marriage ceremony garments. As any self-respecting fashionista knows, the change of season can imply only one factor: a fantastic excuse to go shopping! Getting help from an expert skilled that has labored with commerce current booths in numerous venues will probably be invaluable by enhancing return on funding. And on this last one, simply remember we report on the trends. And they no have to search for different sources to know about the information. Thanks Yusra, I am blissful to know that it helped you. This has created much affect in pop circles. You will be stunned at how a lot money you save. No matter what age group the woman belongs, she would at all times carry a bag alongside with her. You may must get pleasure from group actions and acknowledge you're only part of a bigger picture that pulls from the input of many gamers. Hancocks and JoAnnes. Especially in case you just need a stable to reinforce one thing.