#I JUST got into leather crafting and now I have started to build a complicated pauldron without a proper pattern

[parttime-creative]

Help I have ambitions above my skill level and I'll complete definitely gonna do the project anyway!

Will I fuck up? Probably. Will I learn something? Maybe, in the best case? Will i have done and awesome fucking project thatl I'll be hella proud of (for a sec)? Ohohohoooo DEFINITELY.

FUCK THAT SKILL INSECURITY I KNOW NOTHING SO I KNOW NOT WHAT I DID WRONG! NOONE CAN STOP ME. NOT GOD GOD, NOT THE DEVIL. NOT EVEN MY PERFECTIONISM.

I HAVE YOUTUBE AND THE URGE TO CREATE ON MY SIDE, so joim me and my ambitions above my current skill level or cower in your corner of never daring to do anything new! MUAHAHAHA

[serialkirah]

i'd like to tell a story that not a lot of people in my life know about

it's about how the anti-trans movement and a family business ruined my relationship with my grandparents.

so, i'll start at the beginning, and i'll try to make it brief, but it's all kind of important.

my grandfather started a business when i was born, in 1997. it took quite a few years until it took off. it was a lot of hard work. i won't say exactly what it is, because then this post loses it's anonymous touch, but it's a farm that sells something unique (not weed, ok).

when i was growing up, i begged my grandfather to work there. i wanted to make money, and i wanted to spend the summers at my grandparent's house. they finally let me work there when i was 12.

back then, i was a little girl in a workplace dominated by men. there were porn calendars in the lunch room, even. i fell behind a lot, as most of the men working there were tanks, but i liked doing my part as there were really only four of us back then. i worked every summer.

i liked spending time with my grandparents. my grandfather even back when i was a kid always had white hair - the stress of running this farm sucked all the pigment out of his hair. he has a dark skinned tone, a gruff look about him, and he's fairly short (as the rest of his family, myself included). he's the type of guy who loves being outdoors; clearing the land, hunting, fishing, tapping maples, landscaping - that kind of thing.

my grandmother has always had dark brown hair, and even now looks fairly young for a grandmother. she keeps her hair shoulder length, usually tucked into a ponytail, wears the same black tshirt and capri pants or blue jeans almost everyday, and she's always been into interior design, decorating, flower arrangement, crafting and gardening.

i loved doing things together with them. i could be outside all day burning grass with my grandfather, then spend the evening painting furniture with my grandmother.

my manager at the farm was my uncle, my grandparents son. he was my favourite person, and he was such a great boss. he was this tall, big guy who always wore a leather vest, black t-shirt, and ripped cut off blue jeans and these huge black boots. he was a metalhead, so intelligent, and effortlessly funny and charming. i grew up without my dad in my life, and at some points during my childhood, my mom and him lived in the same building and shared a car, so he's always been someone i was close to. in 2007, he had a baby, and at some point, since my baby cousin and i were always together, i had begun calling him "dad" - i even called my own mom "auntie" a lot! not all the time, just when i talked to my cousin. he's sort of a sibling, more than a cousin.

as the years went by, my uncle relied on me even more. i became his assistant and began helping him with the business side of the farm. my grandfather sat me down when i was about 16 and asked if i'd like to take over the farm. his son didn't want to take it over, and i seemed competent and interested. i decided to go to college for this very niche industry, and to do that i had to go away to the only college in my country which had a program dedicated to it.

the year i left for college, my uncle died from a heart attack. my whole family was devastated, my cousin was left without a father, and my grandparents never really got over it. he was their golden boy, the guy they relied on to run the complicated side of their business, and it took a toll on their personal lives as well as their business. my grandparents took custody of my cousin.

it was difficult to overcome the deep depression i experienced after his death, and i even neglected my studies that year. it was like losing a parent to me. if it wasn't for the friends i made in college, i probably would have had a much harder time. but i obtained a graduate certificate in 2019, in the end.

around this time, i also came out to my grandparents as transgender. i was starting my transition from female to male, and i wanted them to be aware it was happening. i've been out to them since 2017, and to my other friends and immediate family i've been out since 2014. they took it like the average grandparent would, confused and uneducated, but they managed to swallow their opinions and accepted that it was going to happen. it did involve me striking for a few months, but they eventually needed my help when the pandemic started, and they asked me to come back to the farm. i assumed the position of manager. i moved into company housing, just down the road from work, and began working full time.

it was a difficult adjustment to become assistant manager to a manager that had passed away and didn't leave instructions. even though i had gone to school for this specific industry, i hadn't gone to school for business administration, so i was essentially taking over business duties with no training. i had to teach myself a lot, or learn from other colleagues. my grandfather was a knowledgeable man in business and farming practices, for sure, but when it came to technology, accounting, traceability, compliance, human resources, auditing, inventory, resource management; he needed help. even though i became his right hand man during this time, running the business alone for a few years took a severe toll on his health and in the beginning of 2020, he was diagnosed with cancer.

he had to take an extended break while he was receiving treatment. and i was there to take over his duties. even before he took a break, i was doing everything from audit prep to inventory tracking, environmental data collection to representing the company at conferences, media appearances to health and safety training, guided tours to project management. now, i was also in charge of all daily operations, scheduling, communication, and a team of eleven people. on top of that, i joined a board of directors for an association related to my farm. the very business that turned my grandfather's hair white in just a few short years was now turning my own hair white at 23.

that's all to say - i think i was doing very well. my coworkers and i got along very well, and everything always moved smoothly. but enough was never enough for my grandparents, and i was constantly berated for everything i did.

i think the stress of losing their son with the addition of the cancer diagnosis caused a negative change in my grandparents. over the course of three years, the same people who i loved spending every summer with became aggressive, argumentative, sarcastic, mean-spirited. i started spending more time at my own place rather than eating supper with them almost every night. i skipped afternoon coffee and long talks with my grandmother, because i couldn't stand listening to her increasingly manic religious rants about how nobody has morals these days, they just do whatever they want. i stopped talking about anything other than work with my grandfather, because he started becoming increasingly aggressive and indignant whenever he wasn't caught up on daily activities at the farm, and especially so when i had everything handled correctly. he was able to overcome his cancer, and was declared cancer free. he decided to rebuild his house, so he still took time off, but would still come to the farm to get angry about this or that.

i was becoming so stressed that i would call my mother every other day to seek advice. i started to wonder if my grandfather was ever going to retire and let me run the business without his constant surveillance and micromanaging. i was so stressed that i started psychotherapy to attempt to balance both my emotions and career.

then, i fell in love with the girl that worked at my local coffee shop. i had asked her to hang out as friends at first, but she was the one who kissed me first. we began dating in january of 2023, and she changed everything. she was there to help me understand that getting screamed at everyday for unimportant things wasn't normal. that working 7 days a week for three years with no days off wasn't healthy. that forbidding me to take time off to see my friends, do anything fun, or even spend my free time making art was incredibly fucked up.

finally, in the spring of 2023, my grandfather dropped a bomb on me one day. i had mentioned to him that i was doing really well with the mutual aid program i created for trans youth, and how i'm working with a lgbt youth group in town, and like a man possessed, he began spouting off about transgender people. yeah, i just don't like those transgender people. those men are always cheating by winning women's sports. and they beat women up did you know that? if women don't let them into the bathroom they beat those women up. they go in there and rape women and kids.

i was shell shocked by this outburst. i had never heard this opinion from him, and it was as if he had this whole rant locked and loaded, ready to spring up when given the opportunity. where did this come from? i asked. it's all over the news, i've seen videos on youtube, it's all true. there was no convincing him. even when i tried to appeal to common sense, or share an empathetic viewpoint. but you know, i'm transgender. obviously, not all trans people are the same. i don't do any of those things, and of all the trans people i know, none of them do that either. i think what you're watching is propaganda. but he insisted that this was real life, and ended up walking away grumbling about it.

i cried to my girlfriend that night. i was reaching a limit that i couldn't exceed. she held me and suggested that maybe i should walk away. i should save up my money, and i could go back to school, and i could do something i enjoyed. i was comforted, i agreed, and i began to plan my escape.

not even two weeks later, my grandfather burst into my office again, and asked, what's all this he/they shit? at first, i was a bit confused about what he meant, but then i realized, ah, you mean my personal pronouns that i use?

he looked so angry, and he had this crazed, unrecognizable look in his eyes - the type of look he would give to people who hurt his family. it terrified me. yeah, whatever, it's in your emails, take that shit off of there, it doesn't belong in business emails. i could feel my anger rising, and my throat felt tight, but i still managed to say it's my email signature, so that when people call me or address me, it's the way i want them to, just like my first name. it's not a big deal, everyone does it. you don't have to have one with your email signature, but i include mine because it's important for communication.

i don't give a shit. you're a she, your name is -----, you do that on your own time, but you need to be professional. take it off your emails. i stared back, shocked and honestly frightened. i could say yes, i'll take my pronouns off my emails, then i could apologize and continue working there. but something in myself would die.

no, i said.

no? he repeated.

no, and this conversation is over. i closed my laptop and brushed past him. he sputtered and screamed at me to take it off my emails, but i ignored him and went home.

i discussed it with my therapist, my girlfriend, my mother, and my sister. i decided to suggest therapy to them. three days later, i sat both my grandparents and my mother down. we were outside, sitting on a patio set facing each other.

i tried to talk about what happened, and after hearing the way they ranted about transgender people, how they were bad people, how they were sinning, how they didn't want pronouns in their business, how i was ruining their business by doing so, how i was using them in order to gain more support for my mutual aid that helps trans youth, and how i'm not respecting them, i suggested family therapy. they rejected the idea, and became even more indignant.

i stressed that forbidding me to use my proper pronouns and my correct name (which was a legal name), was against the law, and they said they didn't give a shit about the law. what are you going to do, sue your own grandparents? my grandmother scoffed at me. no, but if i was anybody else that you were doing this to, they could sue you, and they would win. at this, she got up from her seat and began ranting about how disrespectful i was being to my grandparents. she grabbed my wrist and yanked me around while she yelled, and raised her hand to smack me.

now, i want to pause here and explain something. obviously, this is an extreme reaction. it's also a common reaction from my grandparents during arguments. i know some may baulk at the idea of your grandparents or parents using corporal punishment, but it was a common thing, and sadly, it is part of a larger issue - intergenerational trauma caused by residential schools. i don't think i've mentioned it yet, but my family and i are native.

much of my family grew up in the residential school system, a schooling system ran by the catholic church and the canadian government for indigenous children. this system was mandatory, and parents who tried to hide their children were punished by the law. it's main purpose was cultural genocide, and the nuns and priests that ran the school physically, sexually and emotionally abused native children. many kids died from experimentation, neglect, malnutrition, unsuitable living spaces and were also murdered. the rate of death at these schools were so high that they had cemeteries on site, and many children were buried in unmarked graves. in that environment, my great grandparents survived those schools with many wounds, and had their own children sent to these schools. this is also where my grandparents went to school. they didn't need to send their own children there as they moved away to the city in the late 70s. but even some of my mother's friends had gone to residential school. in that regard, my grandparents have been deeply damaged by the system and by their upbringing. they're emotionally stunted, they resort to screaming instead of communicating, and their last resort is to lash out, sometimes physically. it's not right, by any means, but i just want you to understand that there is more under the surface.

back to my grandmother. she's ready to strike me, she's got my wrist, and i've just had enough of this. the way they've responded so far is beyond unreasonable, and any call to common sense is lost on them.

i slowly slackened my arm away from her personal space and into mine, opened my palms in a relaxed way, and pulled them behind my head softly until she let go, then put my hands in my lap and softened my face, and said, hey, let's stay in our seats. she knew that i was attempting to de-escalate the situation, felt insulted, and lashed out verbally instead. she jabbed a finger in my direction and spat, you trans people are all the same.

with that last sentence in mind, i turned to my mother, who had sat silently in tears the entire time. i don't think this is going to work, i said to her.

then why don't you quit! my grandmother yelled from her seat.

my grandfather said, fine, _____ either you do what i told you to do or quit.

i turned to my grandfather. so as your manager, if i don't let you break the law and violate the conditions of your 3rd party certification, i have to quit?

my grandmother's voice was hoarse, and she was repeatedly screaming in the background, so they don't you quit! why don't you quit! quit then! we don't need you!

i maintained eye contact with my grandfather. are those your feelings as well? not just her feelings?

he was struggling to look at me. that's the way i feel, too.

i stared at him for a few seconds while my grandmother continued to scream and rant. finally, i said, okay. this is my two week notice. but you only have two weeks to change your mind - after that, i'm gone.

i wish i could say that he thought long and hard over the next two weeks, and decided that he had been too much. i wish they decided to reel in their opinions for the greater good of their relationship with their family. but their business (and their religious views i suppose) was ultimately more important to them. in two weeks, i set up another manager with all my tasks - properly, the way i should have been - and left.

my grandfather urged me to move out of the company housing within those two weeks in not so many words. my grandmother suggested i move far away, and told me not to tell anyone what happened. it was seconded by my mother, who believed telling everyone would be unprofessional. i was scared and uncertain, i decided to lie to everyone and tell them i quit because i wanted to go back to school, or to change my career. i had to move in with my mother, two hours away from my girlfriend, and i had to sell my truck to afford my car payments. it was very difficult to overcome the rift in confidence the whole thing caused me, but eventually with the help of therapy, my girlfriend and my family, i slowly gained that confidence back.

now, i'm slowly opening up to more people about what happened. eventually, i will tell everyone, but not as a way to bring my grandparents down. i don't want to be like them in that way. i want to tell people when i feel okay again, when i feel confident, and when i have more stability in my life again.

i've been able to move into a house that i rent with my girlfriend, my sister, and my sister's boyfriend. we're creating a fun and colourful space to live in, a place where we feel good. my sister is going back to school and my girlfriend and i are looking into it too. after a long break, i'm also resuming activities with my mutual aid program. i've also joined the board of directors at my city's pride activity planning non-profit organization. lots of exciting stuff.

i'm going to be 27 in about a month. i spent 14 years working for my grandfather, and although somedays it feels like a huge waste of time, i still have a bunch of skills that i otherwise wouldn't have ever learned. i only wish it translated to a better paying job in the city, haha.

when i think about what my grandmother said, you trans people are all the same, it doesn't fill me with as much hurt as it did that day. cuz now i think about all the wonderful trans people i've met in my life and i think to myself - yeah, that's okay. if trans people are all the same, let me have the same kindness, the same humility, the same bravery, and the same forgiveness. because at the end of the day, i value those things far more than i would ever value money or ego.

i hope this story wasn't too boring. i know i'm just one of thousands, maybe millions of trans people that go through the same stuff everyday. but i appreciate being listened to, so thank you. if you want to be friends, follow me! i'm trying to use tumblr more often.

see ya! :]

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #190 & 191

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re providing you a horror double feature- Mecha-Eli chan and Mecha-Eli chan Mk. II! Since they’re nearly identical (in NA) all you have to change between one and the other is how you roleplay. But hey, you technically get an extra build this week, go you!

Both of these servants are 100% Armorer Artificers for some fancy techno-gadgets built into their metal bodies.

Check out their builds breakdown below the cut, or their characters sheet over here!

Next up: She’s got so many pigs around her you’d think she opened a doughnut shop!

Race and Background

Shockingly, the robots... are robots. Specifically, Warforged, which gives them +2 Constitution and +1 Intelligence. They also get Constructed Resilience, which makes you a better ruler since you don’t need to eat, drink, breathe, sleep, or get sick, you get advantage and resistance to poison saves and damage. Elisabeth might get sick from eating all that candy, but you won’t even be tempted.

Instead of sleeping, you take a Sentry’s Rest, spending 6 hours in a still state- you can still see, but you can’t move without breaking the rest.

Integrated Protection gives you your first armored casing, adding +1 to your AC. You can also don armor by fusing it to your body over an hour, letting you wear heavy armor without having to take off your tutu.

Finally, you get a Specialized Design, giving you proficiency with Performance and one set of tools. If you want to get your Elisabeth on, I’d suggest Bagpipes, so you can clear the room just as fast as she can.

Being a robot makes your background a bit complicated, but you were made to rule Castle Csejte Pyramid Himeji so we’ll call you a Noble, which gives you proficiency with History and Persuasion. If you’re playing Mk. II, swap the latter over to Intimidation, boom, roleplay changes done.

Ability Scores

Your highest score should be Intelligence, you have a supercomputer for a brain, it’s not a huge stretch. Constitution comes next, aside from Babbage you’re the only servant made out of iron. So far. Your Strength should also be pretty good, while you do shoot people, you also hit them, and you have one of the most damaging NPs in the game when ignoring type advantage. Your Charisma isn’t bad per se, but your delivery does get a little stiff from time to time. Your Wisdom isn’t that great, neither of you really “get” people. Yes, humans might take offense at being forced to stay in their homes their entire natural lives. That means we’re dropping Dexterity. Your head literally falls off on a regular basis, that’s an accident that would kill most people. Also, you’re not exactly running around in leather, so it’s not like you’d need it.

Class Levels

Starting off as an Artificer gives you proficiency with Constitution and Intelligence saves, as well as two skills. Arcana is the closest thing to robotics in the forgotten realm, and Investigation will help you make a sweep of the battlefield with your robot eyes. Your first machines are made using your Magical Tinkering, adding minor effects to tiny objects. It’s not exactly the wish spell, but you can get creative with it. Speaking of Spells, you can cast and prepare those now using your Intelligence. All you have to do is be smart. Grab the cantrip Mage Hand for a non-combat use for your rocket arm, and Sword Burst so you can try spinning to damage nearby enemies with your tail. I hear it’s a neat trick. You can also cast first level spells, like Feather Fall and Jump (it’s almost flying), as well as Catapult for a prototype rocket arm. Also, if you can spare the slots, grab Detect Magic for robo scanning.

For more substantive mechanics, you’ll have to Infuse Items over a long rest, creating two items from a choice of four blueprints, both of which will go up in number as you level up. Right now, I’d suggest grabbing Goggles of Night and Sending Stones for recon missions, an Enhanced Arcane Focus for better bullets later, and an Armor of Magical Strength for a suit of armor that can either add your intelligence modifier to strength checks and saves or prevent you from getting knocked prone. Doing either spends one of six charges, which partially get refilled at dawn.

Moving to the Armorer subclass dumps you into a proper heavy armor setup, but you can make it even more impressive by turning it into Arcane Armor. This lets you ignore the strength requirements for heavy armor (which you can wear now), and you can use the armor as a spellcasting focus. There’s also stuff about the armor being a part of you, but that’s already true thanks to being a warforged. As the guardian of Hungary you get the Guardian Model, which gives you cool Thunder Gauntlets that use your Intelligence to attack instead of your strength. Creatures that you punch this way have disadvantage against other creatures for a round. It can also produce a Defensive Field as a bonus action, giving you your level in temporary HP, up to Proficiency times per long rest. Finally, you get some free armorer spells to go along with your new outfit. Magic Missiles do a good job of standing in for bullets, and Thunderwave gives you a finale for your Breast Zero Erzsébet.

Your first Ability Score Improvement is going towards making your regular attacks even more powerful with the Crusher feat, rounding up your Strength and making your fists able to shove a creature they hit once per turn, moving a large or smaller creature 5′ away. Your critical hits also give all other attacks against that creature advantage. (Catapult is a save, so I don’t think they work together, but that’s a DM thing, I guess.)

Fifth level armorers get an Extra Attack per action, so you can make enemies taste both of your hands each turn. You also get second level spells, like Mirror Image to put together some cheap factory-made knockoffs to take damage for you and Shatter for more sound-based pain. You can also prepare spells like Levitate for your first taste of flight, Enlarge/Reduce to make yourself the giant mecha you were born to be, See Invisibility for more robo-scanners, and Pyrotechnics for some movie magic.

Sixth level artificers get Tool Expertise, doubling their proficiency with all proficient tools. Now you’ll be really good at clearing out a bar with your bagpipes. You also get two more Infusions, with one more up at a time. Some Resistant Armor will make you deaf to your own music with resistance to thunder damage, or you can customize it to block out plenty of other types, like acid, cold, fire, force, lightning, necrotic, poison, psychic, radiant, or thunder. Makes a great gift for the totem barbarians in your party! You also get a Spell-Refueling Ring, because pretty soon you’ll be flying, and the worst thing you can do while flying is run out of spell slots. As an action, you’ll recover a 3rd level or lower spell slot once per day.

At seventh level, your Flashes of Genius make your smarts even smarter, letting you add your intelligence modifier as a reaction to nearby checks or saves Intelligence Modifier times per long rest. You were literally built to do everything for your subjects, it only makes sense that you’d be good at it.

Use this ASI to bump up your Intelligence for stronger spells, stronger punches, and more flashes of genius. You take a little bit to get warmed up, but that’s true of most computers.

Ninth level armorers can make Armor Modifications, turning your armor into four items for the purpose of infusion, and you can infuse an extra 2 items specifically if they’re part of your armor. That’ll be really cool next level, but what’s really cool right now is your third level spells, including the freebies Hypnotic Pattern and Lightning Bolt. I would’ve preferred fireball, but we’ll take what we can get for big guns. You can also prepare spells like Fly to fly under your own power instead of awkwardly levitating like a balloon, Haste to overclock your computer, and Intellect Fortress to lord your superior brain over the fleshlings, giving you resistance to psychic damage, and advantage on intelligence, wisdom, and charisma saves.

When you hit tenth level you become a Magic Item Adept, partially because you’re a magic item. This means you get an extra attunement slot, and crafting common or uncommon items is a lot cheaper and faster. You also learn the Fire Bolt cantrip for more options from your guns. On top of all that, you get two more infusion blueprints, and can have one more made at a time. I’d pick up some Winged Boots for concentration free flight up to 4 hours a day, and a Helm of Awareness to give a creature advantage on initiative rolls and immunity to being surprised. You don’t really wear a helmet, but you give one to Guda during the valentines events, so now you can do that in game.

At eleventh level, you can make Spell-Storing Items at the end of a long rest, shoving a 1st or 2nd level artificer spell into a weapon or focus. A creature can cast that spell from the item up to twice your Intelligence modifier times, and it is as powerful as if you cat it yourself. You can only have one spell stored this way at a time.

I really wanted to multiclass into sorcerer this build, but to be honest the final level of artificer is too good to really pass up. So instead, use this ASI to become a Metamagic Adept, gaining two sorcery points and two ways to spend them. Most of your spells are really just part of your body, so a Subtle spell will make that more obvious by making the casting less obvious. You won’t need somatic or verbal components. Alternatively, you can use a Careful spell to turn your giant blasty spells into something slightly more controlled, automatically letting one creature make their save against the spell. You use a lot of firepower for a single-target NP.

Thirteenth level artificers get fourth level spells. Fire Shield and Greater Invisibility aren’t in character, but they are useful, and using useful things is in character. You can also cast spells like Stoneskin, which is an understatement if anything, Summon Construct or Fabricate to build extra Elis, and Arcane Eye for your very own security drone. I also recommend grabbing the glyph of warding from level 3 so you can fully stock your castle with summoned versions of yourself to attack intruders.

Fourteenth level artificers are Magic Item Savants, letting you ignore all restrictions for magic item use, and you can attune to five items at a time. You also get the Prestidigitation cantrip for easy 3d printing, and two more infusions, plus one more built at a time. Grab the Belt of Hill Giant Strength for a whopping 21 strength, and an Arcane Propulsion Arm for a proper rocket punch. That last one does come with a pretty hefty price though- you will have to chop an arm off to put this one on. (Your armor will replace the arm if you have to make space for another infusion though, so it’s not all bad.) Annoyingly, this arm also deals force damage for some fucking reason, so you can’t use crusher on this either. I’d let you just punch people normally though.

Fifteenth level armorers get their final goody, giving them Perfected Armor. Now your guardian model lets you spend a reaction to pull a huge or smaller creature closer to you at the end of its turn if it fails a strength save, and if it’s pulled into melee range you can wollop it as part of the reaction. You can do this Proficiency times per long rest. We’ll consider this a giant hand giving them a nudge in your direction.

Another ASI, use this one for more Intelligence. Now you have the strongest and most flashes, as well as super strong spells and force punches.

At seventeenth level you get fifth level spells, like the freebies Passwall and Wall of Force. Technically it’s invisible, but a giant hand cupping around you to block damage is totally possible. Speaking of giant hands, Bigby’s Hand lets you make a giant mecha hand that actually acts like a hand for once. Yes, we are fitting Mecha Eli’s bit from Las Vegas in here. You can also use Creation to make an exact copy of your body, and Animate Objects to bring it to life. It’s not as powerful as the original, but that’s what you get with factory-made goods.

Eighteenth level artificers are Magic Item Masters, letting you attune to six items at once. You also get another two blueprints with another one built at the same time, so unless you’re powerbuilding grab another Arcane Propulsion Arm for two rocket fists, and a Ring of Protection for a bonus to your AC and saves.

Use your last ASI to become Tough, for 38 extra HP right away and another two when you level up again. You are literally made of steel. Come on.

Your capstone level grants you a Soul of Artifice, which is pretty busted. You get a bonus to all saves equal to the number of magic items you’re attuned to, and if you would drop to 0 HP you can end one of your infusions instead, sticking around at 1 HP. We weren’t able to make your mass-production work out that well, but if you have to die 9 times to actually go down, I’d count that as extra copies.

Pros and Cons

Pros:

You’re hard as hell to kill. With your lowest save being a +6 and the ability to add 5 to any save you don’t like the look of, magic will just slide right off you. Plus, with an AC of 20, just over 200 HP, and temporary HP from the guardian model, you have a lot of health to chew through from martial classes as well.

And that’s assuming they can even hit you! Flight is awesome, giving you plenty of mobility to avoid most combatants entirely and rain down fists and hellfire from a safe distance.

This build is highly customizable, with tons of tricks and gadgets to swap out as the situation calls for them.

Cons:

You’re super reliant on magical items to protect you, so if you get caught up in an anti-magic field it won’t be fun. Like, most artificers will have an awkward fight, but you won’t have arms.

While you have a lot of infusion options, you can’t have all of them up at once. That means you’ll have to make hard decisions constantly, and basically predict the future each long rest.

Two of the feats we took aren’t really that great, and probably should have gone towards better stats. Crusher only works on your regular punches, which are outclassed by your magic weapons, and you only get two weak uses of Metamagic per day.

[crystalbahamut]

what roams the night

FFXIV Write Day 2: Aberrant

Summary: Lyna is grateful to the Warrior of Darkness for what they have done for Lakeland, but they remain an oddity she does not fully know how to handle.

Author’s note: I started off wanting to write people talking about the WoL as the First’s Most Loveable Cryptid but ended with this. I think it’s still on theme, though. Takes place some nebulous time in ShB, after Philia is defeated. I also don’t actually know how much the general populace knows of what’s going on, so I’m winging it.

Warnings: Shadowbringers spoilers, playing fast and loose with canon, unspecified WoL/D (they/them used in reference), but also a mention of WoL/D crafting and generally being pleasant and helpful, cross-posted to AO3

Words: 1,188

 ---

“It don’t seem natural.”

Lyna stops, one ear flicking towards a hushed conversation between a group of soldiers currently sitting around a fire on break. She’s been trying to keep track of potential grumbling– the addition of night exercises had caused no small amount of grief when it came to scheduling, but no one could deny the need to acclimate to patrolling in the dark, if only so that everyone stops being so distracted by the stars. This, though, doesn’t sound like complaints about decisions command has made– though Lyna notices one of her lieutenants, Boa-Lann, has a frown on his face and also has an ear turned towards the conversation.

“They didn’t even take a lantern with them– I offered and everything,” the hume says. “I couldn’t escort them, but I figured it wouldn’t do for a friend of the Crystal Exarch to get eaten by a viper on their way to the water. They told me they didn’t need it– the moon was bright enough! I mean, it was brighter than tonight, but still…”

“I think they prefer the dark,” a drahn woman says as she comes to sit with them. “I barely ever see them during the sunlight hours, but I’ve bumped into them twice after my shift.”

An elf private excitedly adds, “I saw them at night too! One time they were just crafting some leathers at a little bench they had set up outside. Weren’t even admiring the sky or nothing.”

“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” a ronso says, and more people are gathering when he adds, “I mean…they are…they gotta be…”

Lyna turns her ear away and sighs with frustration as she crosses her arms. A stranger shows up one day, turns out to be a very important guest of the Exarch, goes to fight at a battle at which the Lightwarden of Lakeland is vanquished, and people are not supposed to assume this newcomer is the Warrior of Darkness? The Exarch is not a stupid man– sometimes reckless, eccentric, and always prone to overlooking his own health– but not stupid, and far too devoted to the Crystarium and her people to not know this would happen. She had known this would happen, and so she curses herself for yet being unprepared to deal with it.

“Captain?”

But she is going to have to deal with it now. She tilts her ear back towards the group as though she hasn’t been listening– thankfully there are no other viis to call her on that– and lets her head follow. Behind the (now much bigger) group, Boa-Lann tilts his head in question and she subtly shakes her own. He nods once but stays, and she is thankful for the backup. “What is it?”

“You saw the Warrior of Darkness at the battle for Holminster Switch, didn’t you?” the hume asks and they all eagerly lean forward. Like children, she thinks with faint amusement. They do their duties well; she cannot entirely begrudge them their excitement.

And yet.

“I did,” she says, and before any more questions can be asked, quickly adds, “And I have been forbidden from revealing their identity or anything that can lead to such a reveal. Such orders were given by the Crystal Exarch himself.”

There is, predictably, a lot of groaning and protestations. She remains impassive in the face of them.

“Why?” the ronso asks. “Do the people not deserve to know the face of their savior?”

“I do not think he would disagree with that reasoning,” she says, because she doesn’t. “But it is more complicated than that, as the Warrior of Darkness also requested their identity not be revealed. I cannot speak for my lord but, were I in his place, I would want to keep relations with them as pleasant as possible. They have done us an unimaginable service already…I think abiding their wish for anonymity is not an unreasonable request.”

The ronso grumbles but does not countermand her. He is that sensible, at least.

“I think…I think that’s probably for the best,” a hume woman, one of the healers, says hesitantly. “If they’re here to bring the dark back to the world, they have to go to the other Lightwardens, and then with Eulmore hunting them, it’s just safer and easier to be anonymous, isn’t it?”

“Indeed,” Lyna says, thankful for the guided distraction. “And…though I cannot say much more, I can say I asked why they would rather remain unknown. They said they prefer the people to direct their admiration to the night sky, where they feel it better belongs. Perhaps they will reveal it themself someday, but for now, their work is not yet done.”

Her words seem to soothe the edge of the more disgruntled ones, and even cause some looks of admiration among the others. Oh well; if the Exarch wants less of such wonder, he can find a way to deal with it.

Lyna stands straight and clears her throat. “And neither is ours. If Eulmore returns they will be unprepared for the darkness of night, but we will be well practiced. So– back to your units. The next break will be for dinner.”

They get up without complaint and Lyna watches them go before she turns– only to come nearly face to face with the subject just discussed. “What-what are you doing here?”

The Warrior smiles apologetically and hefts a bag to readjust it on their shoulder. “Sorry; I saw you talking to your soldiers and didn’t want to interrupt.”

“How did you come up so quietly?” Lyna doesn’t mean to sound so irritated, but her ears work just fine, thank you.

“I stepped around the foliage,” they say, like they did not just come from an angle with no lanterns.

“Sounds like stepping silently in the dark is pretty natural to you,” one of the soldiers says cheekily.

“I’ve participated in a treasure hunt or two. You learn to get real quiet creeping around caves full of things that would like to eat you,” the Warrior says pleasantly and shifts again, either not understanding the implication or completely ignoring it. Lyna doesn’t know fully what to think of them just yet. “Um, Captain, since I have your attention, I don’t suppose you can point me to the mess? I’ve got a delivery from the Crystarium and I’d really like to put it down.”

“You’re helping with dinner?” she asks, because even not being known as The Warrior, surely the Exarch’s guest is above such menial tasks?

“I’m a trained chef; I can help,” the Warrior says defensively. They then drop their voice and wink at Lyna. “I mean…if you can’t trust me with your food, who can you trust, right?”

The first one then. Lyna can’t help but smile ever so slightly. “I suppose you have a point,” she says and directs them to the right building. As she watches them go, cheerfully on their way to help cook dinner for a bunch of soldiers, she shakes her head. The Warrior of Darkness is an odd one, for certain.

But she can’t find it in herself to mind overmuch.

[skadventuretime]

Shadow Crowns

Welcome to Chibi!Reverb 2020! This is my piece with the incredibly skilled @drowsystar, who not only came up with this bomb-ass idea but drew incredible things for it, too. I only wish I could have written you the proper 70k fic this idea deserves.

Rating: T

Warnings: Cursing

Read: AO3

Art: Link

“Another glorious day for his majesty the shut in.” Star yanks the curtains just a bit so that a sliver of late afternoon sunlight shines directly onto Kid’s closed eyes.

The bedroom is cavernous. Stone walls and floors hold a damp chill in the air that no number of thick carpets or tapestries can really dispel, and wrought iron bookshelves line all of the room’s circular walls. They’re filled to the brim with well-cared for leather tomes of all shapes and sizes, but mostly their slightly acidic scent makes Star want to sneeze.

“Ah yes, my faithful knight, ever at my beck and call,” comes the prince’s muffled voice.

The curtains snap close and return the room to its former pitch darkness. Star feels the slippery tendrils of the prince’s shadow magic slide over his wrists, his back, his throat, a not-so-subtle reminder that his life could just as easily be snuffed out.

It was kind of hot, not gonna lie. Too bad business and pleasure don’t mix. 

“I will remind you not to disturb my slumber again,” the prince says. Star assumes he rolls over because that’s the sort of arch thing he’d say as a way to end the conversation, but he hears the muted sounds of feet hitting carpet instead. There are still no candles lit nor magelight summoned, but that’s because the crown prince is a master of shadow magic and likes to flaunt his perfect dark vision whenever he gets the chance.

“You shouldn’t be slumbering so late in the day anyway, your elevatedness.” Star inches back towards the curtains because if the prince thinks he gives up that easily, he’s got another thing coming. The sliver of daylight at the edge of the thick fabric cuts off abruptly, like the shadows were thick and solid. Whatever; his princeliness is probably just standing there to be stubborn. A little light will clear things up—

Sunlight stabs him in the eyes as the blinds fly back open. “How unusually perceptive of you,” says the prince, now across the room on an overstuffed low couch, a book cocked at an obnoxiously relaxed angle in one hand. He’s fully dressed and there’s not a trace of his night clothes; maybe that’s what all the dark was for. “What brings you here at this unusual hour? Isn’t it time for you to pester the palace guard about sparring matches again?”

Star waves his hand. “I got bored when nobody could disarm me. Hey, let’s go to the market today — there are supposed to be fireworks in the plaza after sunset.”

The prince looks up from his book with an eyebrow already bent at precisely ‘are you an idiot’ degrees. “The main plaza? In the center of the city?”

“Yup.”

“The one with traders from all over the world?”

“That’s the one.” 

“With huge crowds and unlimited rooftops for an assassin to spy from?”

“For the crown prince, you sure are pretty stupid about your own kingdom, huh?”

The book closes with a crisp smack. “For a bodyguard, you sure are an idiot. Do you really think you could keep me safe from the literal hundreds of possible angles a potential assailant could reach us from? I know father hired you on your merits as a swordsman, but he clearly didn’t give your head close enough scrutiny.”

“Come onnnn, it’ll be fine. You haven’t left this room since I was assigned to you three months ago. You need a little sun, get some fresh air.”

The prince exhales and recrosses his legs, a tell Star has learned means his patience is running thin, but in all honesty he doesn’t seem to have much to start with. “Ah yes, the shadow mage needs sunlight. Truly your minutes of education trump the years I’ve spent honing my craft.” To punctuate his words, the room fluctuates between grey scale and daylight, but each flash of the former has contorted figures that get closer in Star’s peripheral vision. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a prodigy or whatever,” Star says, blinking away the grotesque afterimages. “But seriously, you really stay in here all day?”

“It’s for my safety,” the prince replies, his voice heavy with something Star can’t quite place. “I’ve told you this before. It’s why you’re here.”

Star walks over to the window and looks down at the city below. Neat stone buildings unfold like nesting dolls from the castle’s fortified walls, on lower ground than the castle proper. Another wall encircles the central part of the city on even lower ground, and in the distance straw covered roofs make up the final, outer ring. It’s on that level that the festival is taking place this evening, far from the imposing iron and tomb-like stone of the castle. 

It’s also where, if everything goes to plan, the prince will die. 

“Exactly, it’s why I’m here. You’ve been safe so far, no one’s tried to kill you at all since I’ve been around!” 

“I never leave this wing of the castle.”

“Which is why you need this. Come on, they’re going to have all kinds of great food and entertainment and—“ Star lowers his voice, “I heard that the work of that brainiac scholar you’re always crying about will be sold there.” 

The prince stands up abruptly. “Eibon’s work will be there?”

“Yeah, that guy. Heard it from some of the organizers themselves at the pub last night.”

He hadn’t, really. Star just knows that the prince will do anything to get his hands on work by the contemporary scholar Eibon, something to do with shadow and light magic protection. It’s all above his attention span and pay grade. 

Pain seizes his chest and a snarled HURRY UP BRAT rings in his ears for a split second. Though he knows it’s invisible, Star can feel the rune etched into his soul. The only reason he’s free at all, alive even, is because his loving father saw fit to give him one last chance to redeem himself in his family’s eyes. But like any dog, Star has to be kept on a leash, and over the last few weeks these intermittent pain reminders have gotten more common. Papa dear must be getting impatient despite the regular correspondence. 

Star tunes back into the prince giving him a critical look. “Sorry, indigestion. You know me and those firecracker skewers.”

The prince curls his lip. “Naturally. All right, if there’s a chance to procure more of Eibon’s writings, then there’s nothing else to be said. Meet me here in one hour with everything you need to be stealthy but effective in a fight. I’ll weave a shadow disguise of course, but the ones I’m worried about will be able to see through it. Am I clear?”

“As a mountain spring,” Star says. He leaves before the prince can add any other fussy demands to the list and walks along the stark stone hallway towards his chambers on the other side of the prince’s. 

Well, he finally did it. It’s taken months to get to this point, but tonight’s his first real shot at completing the mission and being freed from his father’s grip. It took him weeks of painstaking deception to lie his way into the right circles to get a pulse of the city’s underground, but it was worth it to become part of the whisper network of assassins. There will be a group of shadow mage trained assassins at and around the market tonight, and he already has an ironclad alibi lined up. 

It should be a happy occasion, but instead he feels antsy, like he didn’t do enough pushups before his morning run. Whatever, it’s probably excitement, even though excitement doesn’t usually leave him with a sense of dread. 

Star splashes some water on his face from the shallow bowl next to the bath for just that use, and spends the next hour sharpening and cleaning his sword. And daggers. And throwing stars. Sharp edges are a man’s best friend, after all. 

The sun is just dipping below the horizon when the two of them set out. Because the prince is technically not allowed to leave the castle, Star has to play lookout while the prince weaves a very complicated piece of shadow magic that allows them to pass the various entry guards without detection. 

The magic feels cool and slippery on him, like he’s veiled in silk. It’s strangely intimate, too, with echoes of the prince’s soul woven through. Magic is like a sixth sense, an extra way of knowing, and Star quite frankly doesn’t want to know anything else about the man whose assassination he’s recently planned. That his magic tastes like packed snow, for example, or makes Star’s own shadow magic crackle at his fingertips eager to be unleashed.

“Stop thinking so much, it’s unbecoming,” the prince whispers from a pace behind Star. Star makes a rude gesture over his shoulder and walks a little faster; whatever else this magic does, it’s a little too close for comfort.

They have passed the most heavily staffed guard towers and just slipped past the mid-tier gate into the lower circle. The crowds are heavier here and the buildings more tightly packed, leaving plenty of narrow alleys for them to slip into should they decide they’re ready to become visible again.

“Hey, do you know where you’re going?” whispers the prince. 

Something in his tone makes Star turn around. The prince’s eyes are wide and glittering with the reflected light from the many torches lining the street. He’s looking with such rapt attention that it’s almost like-- 

“Wait, you’ve been here before, right? Like before there was a bounty on your head?”

The prince blinks and it’s like a door closes. “No, of course not. I wasn’t allowed out of the castle proper. I was just making sure you knew because you have the attention span of a small rodent and I didn’t want us straying far from the event. Remember, we’re going in, getting some scrolls, and coming out.” 

“Yes, your supreme nitpickyness.” 

Star leads them down an alley a few blocks further in so the prince can undo his magic. They’re both dressed modestly in simple cotton cloaks so they don’t attract attention, and the prince has modified his features enough to look like a bad caricature of himself. Anyone without the ability to detect shadow magic will be none the wiser. 

Most of the crowd is gathered near a huge bonfire a few streets down at one of the openings to the market square, where scores of merchants and stalls are lined up. Star can hear faint music of at least three different varieties playing, and the smell of frying fat and savory spices hangs heavy in the air. A quick scan of the buildings around the square doesn’t reveal much, but his night vision is already ruined by the bonfire and a trained assassin wouldn’t be so easy to spot, anyway.

Not that it matters, he reminds himself. The whole point is for the prince to bite it.

“So where is the scholar with Eibon’s writings?” The prince has his cowl up despite the illusions he wove and looks distinctly out of place.

“Beats me, these sorts of things are never very organized. We’ll just have to find it!” 

The prince wrinkles his nose. “Fine. But let’s be efficient. We should start from the west and comb east, with the bonfire being the center point.”

“Ugh, do you ever relax? This is a festival, lighten up, go with the flow, have some fried food.”

“I have never once in my life ‘gone with the flow.’”

“And it shows.” 

The prince throws his hands up. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. Lead on, I cannot wait to see what unnecessary trials we must endure and how much ground we recross with your barbaric method.” 

Star grins. “Now we’re talkin’!” 

He leads the prince past the bonfire and into the market proper. The music is louder here, and the merchants manning the closest stalls begin to call out to them about the superiority of their wares. 

“Now we begin looking for your fancy ink on paper.”

Star knows the exact writings aren’t here, of course, but it’s strangely fun to lead the prince around like this. He’s like a baby goat, all leg and headbutts, but also kinda cute.

“Come with me this way,” the prince says imperiously. A booth with a giant mallet and a man asking to see who is strong enough to ring the bell has caught Star’s eye though, so he says, “One sec, let me just do this real quick.” He tosses a coin to the man, rolls his shoulders, and grabs the mallet.

The bell makes a satisfying ding when the slider hits it. “That’s right, I’m amazing. Hey pri--er, hey Kid, did you see that?” Star looks around for the person he’s ostensibly body-guarding to no avail. “Hey, where are you?”

He heads back down the closest stall walkway and scans the crowd -- nothing again. He does the same for the other two closest walkways and feels something like panic burning in his chest. Did the assassins get him already? Is his job over? Why does he hate the thought of that?

“There you are, you oaf,” calls a familiar voice from behind him. Relief floods his system; the prince is safe.

“Where did you go?” Star says, rounding on him. “You’re supposed to stay by me for protection, remember?”

“You’re not doing a very good job if you can’t even keep track of your charge,” the prince replies archly. “Here.” He extends a skewer of steaming, dripping meat that smells faintly of chilies.

“Uh.” Star accepts it and looks from it to the prince and back again. “You went and got…?”

“Firecracker skewers. Didn’t you say you like them? Unlike you, I remember what people tell me.”

Oh. Oh no. The baby goat brought him meat on a stick. This wasn’t in the assassination manual. “Yeah, I uh, I do. Very tasty.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” the prince replies and holds up a skewer of his own. 

“Wait, that might be a bit--”

The prince removes the top chunk of meat with a neat bite. He chews for a moment, swallows, and then starts coughing. “Pain--water--why do you like this?”

Star dashes over to the nearest food stall and gets a huge pocket of fried dough. “Here, take a bite of this, it might help.”

The prince pulls Star’s hand closer and takes a bite without grabbing the dough for himself. “Why would you subject yourself to this?” he gasps after a few more bites of fried dough. “I mean, I suppose the after burn is somewhat pleasant, and the flavor is acceptable once you can taste again, but really, there are more elegant ways to season meat.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s not up to your impeccable palette. Come on, we got scrolls to find.”

Star leads them around the western half of the market, laughing at the prince’s obvious fascination with it all. They try a few more food items and look at a few more booths before the hairs on the back of Star’s neck begin to stand up. He might not have done the kinds of hardcore training he was subjected to growing up recently, but his instincts are still on par. They’re definitely being tracked; looks like the fun is over.

“Hey, let’s look at the east side of the market,” Star says, his chest getting tighter. The east side has a few more quiet alleys the prince could be grabbed in. Better to get this over with quickly.

“Okay,” the prince says, and that simple word almost stops Star dead in his tracks. They’re having a civil conversation! The prince listened to him! The doubt in his gut twists his insides up.

They lightly browse a few stalls on the other side while Star becomes more and more conflicted. The more he thinks about it, the more he doesn’t want to kill the prince after all, consequences be damned. But what about his father? What about this thrice-damned soul window his father inflicted on him? If he can’t deal with that, he won’t be able to hide his treachery for very long anyway.

Any further deliberation is cut off by a cry of, “Scrolls! Scrolls! Get your scrolls here!”

The prince perks up and heads over immediately, making Star have to almost jog to keep up. The merchant is at the edge of the square, half wreathed in shadow, and -- oh shit, they’re walking right into an ambush aren’t they.

“You said you had some scrolls?” the prince says.

The merchant gives him an oily smile and says, “Yes, right this way, sir.” He gestures to a chest at the opening of an alley.

“I don’t think we should--” A hand comes around Star’s mouth and cuts him off. He reflexively bites down and slams his elbow back, freeing himself while his would-be captor grunts in pain. “Kid, look out!”

The prince jerks around just in time to see another man emerging from the alley behind him. With a flick of his wrist, he binds the man in coils of shadow and tries to jump away from the merchant, who has now revealed a wicked dagger.

“Don’t worry, this will all be over soon,” he croons before lunging at the prince.

Another coil of shadow stops the attack and it looks like the prince is in the process of doing something more complicated when his entire body goes rigid and the merchant snaps free.

“Another shadow mage,” gasps the prince. Star knows he could leave right now, escape himself and leave the prince to be murdered, but his heart isn’t in it anymore. It was the damn meat, he tells himself.

“I’m on it,” Star says, reaching in and down into his own shadow magic. Dark flames wreathe his blade from hilt to tip, blowing in a wind not from this plane. He focuses and sees the thin threads holding the prince in place. But before he can act on it, a third mage appears and begins preparing something nasty.

“Do something,” wheezes the prince, and if that isn’t a challenge, Star doesn’t know what is. He dives into a roll to dodge a thrown dagger and cut the first thread imprisoning the prince. This puts him in range to kick the merchant in the chest and send him flying.

“Chill out princess, I got this,” Star says with the cockiest grin he can muster. He dials up the intensity of his shadow flames and sends them in an arc to push back the two mages in the alley, and on the end of that stroke cuts the remaining threads binding the prince. “You good now, or do you still need me to do literally everything for you?”

There’s that glare that can boil ice. “I’ll take it from here, thank you.” The prince’s eyes seem to get blacker and the alleyway flickers in and out of grey scale. 

“No way, you’re not getting all the glory for this one.” Star leaps back in to punch one of the mages across the chin before the prince’s terror magic makes the others run screaming away from them.

“Well, that could have gone better,” the prince says. He sounds shaken, even though he doesn’t look like he has any big injuries.

“Yeah, I think it’s time we got back to the castle. Had enough fun for a week or so.”

“Remind me never to listen to your idea of fun ever again.”

“You say that now, your royal meat-on-a-stick-ness.”

The prince rolls his eyes and begins to reweave the invisibility illusion. “Shut up and lead us home.” 

“See now you’re talking sense, because I won’t lead us into an obvious trap.”

As they bicker on the way back to the castle, mostly in whispers and unconscious shadow magic pulses, Star’s worries about what will happen to him fade. He’s never been one for thinking too far into the future; for now, he’s got a grumpy prince and a belly full of meat, and there will be plenty of time for the rest. Later. Much, much later.

[handmadecp]

Western Gun Rig.

Hi, I’ve been busy doing all the bags and pouches, book covers etc that I have previously posted all of which can be located on my Blog ‘Beginners Journey into LeatherCraft’ in the archive. So, what’s this about a Western Gun Rig I hear you ask, Well, the Big Kid inside me has come out after watching some of the fast draw videos on YT. and I’ve made me a ‘Cowboy Belt’. Unfortunately I’m making it in the UK, one of the most strict places on the planet against firearms so I have had to make it ‘very’ clear that what you see are ‘Props’, nothing more than replicas with zero chance of anything going Bang because basically..it’s a Toy used to help me in the build. So lets get on, hope you enjoy.

The first thing I needed was a Replica of a Pistol that I fancied making the holster for. I looked online and settled on the ‘Single Action’ Colt ‘Army’ .45 (Short barrel) and a handful of Dummy rounds for the belt.. Not cheap but it was needed..as an actual ‘toy’ pistol wouldn’t have the weight or the bulk of this.

I also needed a pattern so I purchased the  Holster and Gun belt pattern pack from Tandy leather. As you can see..it looks a bit complicated, but we have a saying in the UK..’Give it a coat of Looking at’...and after 3 cups of tea and many coats of looking at I finally realised how simple it really was. So I chose which belt I wanted to make from the ‘several’ that are here and started cutting.

Following the pattern guides I used a sheet of paper laid the gun as shown along the fold line

Then I dropped it down to the Right side and drew around the Pistol as seen here, to the ‘right’ allows for a Right handed draw. if for a left hander...just go to the left, all other instructions are the same.

The basic holster pattern is done.

I use anything to hand that will give me the curves I want on the holster and after getting the basic shape you can use a bit of artistic licence to get it how you want it, but there has to be enough to actually hold the pistol in so don’t cut too much away. there is a quite slim looking piece to the pattern on the front, top left...I worried it was too thin but as the project progresses it looks less of a weak spot.

I chose to use the same 3.5-4mm leather for the Holster as well as the belt. next time I would definately choose maybe 2.5-3mm as..although it came out beautiful It is quite a heavy holster and when you consider the weight of leather in the belt plus a Solid Brass Buckle plus a Pistol ‘and’ 24 Dummy rounds...it makes for quite a weight so next time I will ‘save’ weight where I can without giving away quality or looks though.

I used the template / pattern I made to cut out the leather as seen here. A quick tip: When I forst started I was going through Stanley blades really fast...now I ‘Use jewellers rouge and strop’ them and one blade is lasting me at least a month and its so easy to do.

Here I’m ‘dampening’ the Leather ready to Burnish the edges. Don’t soak it or it will go to mush when you burnish. if you over wet it by mistake just wait for it to dry out a bit and carry on.

I did use my machine to Burnish most of the edges but had to revert back to the old wooden burnisher for the harder to reach places.

I cut a ‘Welt’ as I would for a knife sheath, it does protect the stitching but in this case it also helps to create space for the pistol. See here I have used 528 contact cement from EVO STICK and have put glue on both pieces...waited for it to get ‘tacky’ before sticking in place.

I glued it one side at a time, don’t try to glue and stick both sides at the same time, I was reliably informed by a very experienced gunbelt maker that if you do...it can cause all kinds of problems...if you get it out of line and the contact cement touched...it sticks fast.

Also, as I was sticking it along one edge I left it ‘proud’ of the edge as seen in this pic’ by an 1/8th or so...for sanding later.

Transferring a pic of some Oak leaves and acorns to the holster after dampening it. You can do any design you please or leave it plain. more on this later.

Cut out the pattern for the Belt part of the build. I used 3.5 - 4mm thick veg tan leather, By the end of this I found that this is ideal for the Belt itself and with all the manipulation during the build  by the finish it was very supple, far different to what I began with.

After drawing the outline with a Paint pen refil, (which comes of easily ) I wet / dampened the leather and used a ball point tracing tool to go over the design lines pressing to leave the imprint in the leather. I chose to do everything as it came on the pattern but you can choose sections...it’s your choice. I then put on the soft cotton glove and started the carving with the swivel knife. Some of you know but for those who don’t, I wear the glove to prevent my nails dragging on the leather leaving marks, it’s a tiny detail but adds a little extra professionalism not having nail ‘dents’ everywhere.

Pattern cutting almost done..

Next I used the beveler to make the design more pronounced from the leather.

A good Tip...I made a ‘shot’ bag from suede..filled with lead shot, it’s great for holding the leather still whilst tooling.

don’t forget to cover the back in the decorators paper tape before tooling to minimise stretching.

I chose for myself, to ‘stipple’ the background. When doing leather crafting, you start with an idea but that idea swaps and changes as you go along and in my mind I felt it would look good once all the dying and polishing was done.

The outline beveling is done and the back ground stippling is well under way.

The long blank area at the bottom of the belt is the area I will put the Dummy rounds.

These next few pics show the detailing going on, making the leaves and flowers etc stand out more.

Next I punched the holes I need to put the strap through to hold the ‘Rounds’ then I threaded them to see which particular style of threading I wanted. This way looks good but only allows me to put twelve rounds on the belt.

patterns for the buckle strap and the belt holes strap.

Here you can see the pattern piece I used to trace and then cut these belt end pieces.

Beautiful Handcrafted solid brass buckle.

here you see the Buckle strap cut out edged and burnished with a decorative line added around the edge and a Solid Brass Buckle I had made for this project from some guys who make them by hand.

Notice here how I have changed the strapping style to a much tighter closer look, this allowed me to put 24 rounds on instead of only twelve and I feel it’s a much nicer look.

Ok so now we’re back to the holster. The tracing and transfer of the design is the same as with the belt design and a very easy thing to pick up, takes a little practice as with anything but beginners will soon get better with practice on old scraps, I developed my technique by carving coasters for friends and family.

A good view here of the swivel knife cutting, almost finished cutting the oak leaves and acorns in. you can also see a decorative / stitch line around the edge. looking back I discovered it would be better to leave the decorative / stitch line until I’m done sanding edges as I took off so much it left the line slightly closer to some of the edges, luckily this was on the back of the holster out of sight...lesson learned.

The Welt, used for a couple of things, one ...to protect the stitching and two..to give more space for the Pistol.

Here the Welt is glued to one side, better I’m told by a very experienced gun belt maker because if you try to stick both sides at the same time it can go very wrong as the contact cement...once it touches..sticks. You can also see the very soft 1mm leather I chose for the liner, I’m told the liner is to prevent the tougher veg tan flesh side taking the coating off the gun over time.

Here I’m gluing the backing to the holster and trimming. I glued the holster to an oversized piece to make it easier not to have to line up the edges. easier to cut later.

Here you can see that I have left the Welt sticking slightly proud of the edge to make the sanding easier later.

Dampening the dges ready to burnish.

I had to carefully use a sharp blade to get the welt off so that i could put the liner on and roll it down, but it was simple enough toglue back on. Some of you may notice that the actual holster changes half way through the pics, that’s because I got tired and made a left hand holster instead of the right and had to change it.....it’s such an addictive craft that you fail to notice the time sometimes, it gets late and mistakes start to happen.

Ok, so here ‘s the first fitting. I loaded up some dummy rounds in the strap ( I still have no idea what that bit’s called lol.) to see if I was getting the fit right. very pleased by this point. I will say that this is a lot of work, so maybe not for a complete novice to try right away but after a few months of learning the basics you (anyone) should be ok to give it a go. I like how the color looks too but ultimately I’m looking to make it more ‘worn’ and antiqued looking. also, if you have a leather stitching machine you can do your stitching quicker, but I like the look of hand stitched so thats what I did.

The dummy rounds strap is missing a few here, I was waiting on a delivery of more rounds.

here are a few of the tools I used, Dividers, stitch groover and two sizes of bevellers.

Gluing down the other side of the holster.

I used Fiebings Walnut Pro dye on the inner liner to help it match the rest later.

note how much thicker the holster is after gluing the Welt in. I used my sanding machine to smooth down the excess over hang I left earlier.

Note the left handed holster ..I’ll use that on another belt. Here I’m Walnut dying  the bullet strap, the buckle strap and the belt extension strap.

Dying the inner liner.

Time to dye the Holster, using Walnut and following it with a coat of eco flo dark brown antique dye.

Once dyed the belt and holster need to be darkened off so that it ages the look of the belt. I used Eco Flo Dark Brown antique dye.

Note how much darker the holster is now after the antique dye has been added compared to the belt.

I decided to add line 27 snap studs to the back of the holster to be able to change it out for bigger holsters / pistols if required. The dye came out great and after the antique it polished up very well. Also..though it’s not intended for it...it turns out the antique works great for darkening and polishing the edges. I didn’t use edge kote as I personally don’t like the look. Just a personal choice, maybe you’ll like it...try it on scrap first.

Test fitting.

The straps were then dyed to match and burnished, ready to fit to the main belt.

Meet ‘Ken’ our model.

Loving the match with the dye.

I was advised to use an oval hole punch as it doesn’t get mishapen as quickly as a round hole. I now use this on all my belts and straps.

I always use the Evo Stick 528 contact cement if possible, be warned though this stuff..once cured..will really stick and if you are not lined up..you have a problem, it’s good stuff. Not necessary as I only need to attach the strap long enough to hold it in place whilst I Hand stitch it, but I always think..”Why not”..it just makes the whole thing that bit stronger.

Again with 528 glue for the Buckle strap. I used a leather ‘rougher’ to create grip for the glue but you can do it with a scratch awl or other sharpish object.

The straps are glued, here I’m making the stitch holes I used a 4mm.

On to the Hand stitching using a Saddle stitch and a Dark Brown waxed thread.

What follows from this point is a lot of extra pics showing off the almost finished belt, You can see I’ve added the Brass buckle, very simple, if you are more than a novice you will be aware how this is done, if you are new to leather craft you will find lots of pics in the archive showing how to do this.

All that’s left to do now are fiddly bits. To burnish the edges of the main belt, very easy to do as I decided ‘not’ to add a ‘Liner’ to the main belt...the reason?...well the holes I cut for the ‘Rounds’ strap were a tiny bit close to the edge of the belt and I didn’t feel there would be enough material stuck in that area, hence my decision. lesson learned for my next one. I said four and a half years ago when I began my ‘journey’ that I would mention any issues or mistakes I make in the hopes that you might avoid doing the same thing...that was not so much a mistake...as I followed the pattern..but I learned that not all patterns are exact and I will adjust this area next time.

I also need to add some lace in these two holes to pull over the Pistol ‘Hammer’ to prevent the gun falling out of the holster whilst the ‘Cowboy’ / ‘Cowgirl’ is running or rolling around and to add a longer lace to the back bottom edge to use as a leg tie.

Excuse ken, he’s a slim kinda guy and it’s falling off him...oh well. lol. But I’m Loving this thick strap with the hand made solid brass buckle.

The lace over the ‘Hammer’ and the leg tie.

Annnnd..that’s a Wrap folks, What a great project this was, I would recommend having a go, maybe not for a complete beginner.....not that you couldn’t do it if you took it slow but it’s expensive to make, especially if you need to buy the replica and the dummy rounds and to make mistakes on expensive leather can ruin your day. I’ve learned a lot making this and I will improve again on the next one but I am more than happy with my first ever attempt, I’m looking forward to the next one. I hope this might encourage some of you to try your hand at leather craft. For those who aren’t already aware there are many more  project build alongs in the archive of my Blog ‘Beginners Journey into Leathercraft’ . Watch this space, good luck with your own Projects and Stay safe...Stay Crafty.

[stevie-writes-the-pain-away]

Alcoholics Anonymous - Chapter One

       There are 34,000 species of fish in the world and only four hundred of them are sharks. You're more likely to be killed by a dog than from a shark but I find this complicated to think about, seeing how bad of a reputation great whites have. For the longest time, I struggled as an aquaphobe and I couldn’t figure out for the life of me why keeping away from water was better in my head than getting out there and gaining back my long lost courage. I couldn’t even swim with friends in a kiddy pool without convincing myself it wasn’t safe and I was better off ten metres away. But I guess I got myself into enough danger away from water already. Like walking into traffic.

       I felt a rough yank on my arm, pulling me back from the street in what I can only now remember as a blur. I replaced my smudged vision with a clear, blank stare into the oncoming traffic and my heart leapt into my throat as an obnoxious car horn hollered down the street past the corner of the sidewalk. With my hair now in a mess and one of my shaky hands fiddling with my clothes to sort myself out, I turned my head to my left hand, watching tight squeezing fingers wrap around my wrist. I bent and rose my arm so my hand nearly met my face and traced whoever held me to a man standing too close for comfort.

       "You alright, lass?" he asked. His voice rang through my head clearly, blocking any other noise out and his raspy, low accented tone was filled with concern. My eyes lifted from his chest to his face where my sudden shock must've been fooling my eyes. It was as if the man had some sort of green shade blended in with his skin and perhaps even one of his eyes was glowing a soft red, almost pink sort of colour. I just stared at his facial features, unsure of how to answer his question. I took notice to his greasy black hair, unnatural skin which must've not been shaved that morning and foreign scent I'd never experienced before. In a strange way, everything about this man seemed to pull me in and I found myself stuck in a trance as he stared back at me, waiting for an answer. Time stood still and eventually, my eyes wandered to the people who stood around us, staring at me with confusion or frustrated disturbance and annoyance. I looked back at the man in front of me as he watched me with now irritated, furrow-browed eyes.

       As soon as I parted my lips to speak he let go, leaving an empty space between us which, in some dramatic way, made me feel lost. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and held it to his ears, already arguing with somebody on the other side. Just like that, I blinked once more, only to find him gone. In fact, nearly the whole crowd of people by the curb was gone already halfway across the street. Realizing I was supposed to join them, I sped after them, ignoring my embarrassment. I would've rather paid attention to where that man went, I couldn't let him get away without thanking him for saving my life. After attempting to look through the busy crowd in front of me I felt guilty losing hope. There was no way I could find him in this mess, even if that man was someone who stood out so well if you were playing a game of hide and seek like I was. Accepting my failure I sighed and backed up, remembering my plans for the day. I couldn't take the day off and search London for him, could I? I cursed to myself in frustration, quickly escaping the crowd around me and leaving down the other street where the community health clinic was.

       After the fifteen-minute walk I had left, I arrived at my destination, opening the wide glass doors and entering the building. As always, I waved to the lady at the front desk and carried on down the hallway to my left. I headed towards the usual room I arrived at every Tuesday afternoon, pushing the door open and coming face to face with the same familiar and comfortable people. I smiled warmly, looking at the chairs all set in a circle and a few of the typical attendees of the program chatting quietly. They glanced my way before smiling at me then continuing their conversations. I counted four of them in the room so far not including myself or counsellor Phoebe. She stood in the other room holding her clipboard as she, I can only assume, marked off my absence. I sat down in my own little bubble, pulling out my phone to wait for the session to begin.

       I was never one to talk to others in the program. I just sat and listened to their stories and only ever spoke when addressed. Aside from greeting others, saying hello and goodbye, I was probably one of the least talkative people in group therapy. That also meant I'd never opened up about myself as much as the others; some of them barely even remembered my name. I laughed it off to myself, scrolling through the pictures on my phone to entertain myself. As minutes passed, more adults entered the room and I put my phone away, crossing and rubbing my arms as Phoebe walked across the room to close the door. Altogether there were nine of us and honestly, we were all a family in a way. It had just been us the majority of the time, and for months now. We'd watched people come and go, we'd seen people on cloud nine then crash back down and I'd listened to some of the heaviest, heart-wrenching stories I'd ever heard. I guess that was the point of Alcoholics Anonymous, however, in a twisted way. Perhaps the more stories you hear the stronger the determination to not risk drinking yourself to death will eventually become. If you're not already suicidal, that is.

       Phoebe straightened her skirt and sat down, fiddling with the edge of her jacket. She placed her clipboard on the ground and clapped her hands together. "We were supposed to get somebody knew today, but it looks like they may not be coming," she said to herself, her face twisting into slight disappointment. I always enjoyed Phoebe's voice and how she spoke, as well as her overall presence. She always found a way to turn something around and make it feel good, or at least, less of a burden on somebody's shoulders. It sounded cliché, but she was such a beautiful person both inside and out. She was gentle, even in aggressive situations. She didn't need to yell in order to get your attention. After all she had done for her clients, she gained enough respect to have you turn your head towards her and stop everything and anything you were doing when she simply cleared her throat. She had curly blonde hair that just passed her shoulders and bounced above her chest when she walked. Her face was unreal, a living Barbie doll right in front of me whenever I watched her; a natural pale beauty. She had lovely blue eyes that seemed to glow, just like her smile. Even when she didn't look very happy, which was rare, she had a nice shine to her. Everybody listened carefully when she took a breath in to speak. "Well, good morning, anyway," she began. "As I know you're all aware, this program is about thinking of how we can cope, as well as crafting ideas to express ourselves. But I think it's always a good idea to encourage people to speak and release anything inside that they would like to talk about first. Why don't we go around the circle and ask each other how our weekends were?"

       Group therapy most definitely seemed more like a GSA meeting at a middle school with the school's guidance counsellors. To some people, the way Phoebe handled the program didn't feel mature enough for adults who were meant to be thirty to 59, but it surprisingly worked for all of us. Probably because not a lot of us were in our fifties or forties yet. For me personally, it made me feel better to be treated as I would be in high school, but that was just me and for my own reasons.

       I turned towards one of the women as she began to speak, only to be interrupted by the door being swung open with what felt to be no hesitance whatsoever. On the other side of the door was a man, maybe 5'7, dressed in all black. His hand still gripped the handle of the door and he paused, his eyes dancing around the room as if he was awaiting some sort of invitation to enter, even if he had already opened the door.

       "Are you the new attendee for this program?" Phoebe asked, pulling her clipboard back into her lap with enthusiasm.

       "I should hope so, bad first impressions are hard to recover from," the man answered in his low gravely voice. He furrowed his eyebrows at her like he was waiting for her to help solve his confusion.

       She stuttered a little, looking through her list. "A-are you Murdoc?"

       "That'd be me," he smirked and nodded, walking forward and shutting the door behind him. His Cuban heels tapped the floor loudly and he sat in one of the chairs, pulling his leather jacket off and carelessly placing it behind him.

       "Well, lucky for you, we only just started. Perhaps while we talk about our weekends, we can introduce ourselves to you," Phoebe offered, gesturing everybody to turn back to the woman previously talking. As she started over, I found myself looking back at Murdoc. Something about him fascinated me; like maybe I knew him, or we had crossed paths on the sidewalk and his face was still buried in the back of my mind somewhere, waiting to be dug up. I finally lost myself in a daydream, not realizing I was staring. His dark eyes, along with the rest of his bored expression skimmed across the room, absorbing his surroundings. Soon enough his eyes swept over mine and I immediately choked on my breath. His face said it all; green skin, raven black hair, one red eye and sharp jawline in need of a shave. He turned his attention back to whoever was talking but his eyes widened, quickly looking back in my direction. As soon as our eyes met, they were locked, and we each melted into our seats awkwardly. Murdoc hid his discomfort well, but I felt I had the right to say I knew when others felt secretly under attack. He might have looked unhappy to be there, but I couldn't have been more happy and relieved to find him. Right in front of me, I found the man who had saved my life.

       My green knight in shining armour.

[nyxshadowhawk]

Goth Tags

I know this is a YouTube thing, but I wanted to do these two lists, so I’m going to do them.

Ways in Which I’m Stereotypically Goth:

I’ve got the romantigoth aesthetic down. I love spooky, pretty things! I love gargoyles and ravens and black roses and moons and weird occult stuff and dark forests... I’ve got three Joseph Vargo posters in my dorm room, and I’ve run out of space to put resin statues in my bedroom. I wear lots of long, flowy black clothes and the occasional Goth Princess gown. I’ve also got an entire box (made of black wood with pentagrams carved in the top) full of silver and pewter jewelry, and Black Phoenix perfumes.

I really love spooky interior design and architecture. I loved Voltaire’s Gothic Homemaking and I drooled over Haunt Furniture. My dream home would probably be a Victorian-style, Addams-like mansion in the middle of nowhere (for when I become a world-famous writer...). I also REALLY love castles and old buildings, especially with gothic architecture and gargoyles. I really liked seeing old castles and churches in Scotland. Medieval Europe is 10/10 my aesthetic.

I’ve always really liked bats. When I was a kid (around six), my favorite episode of The Magic School Bus (for whatever reason) was “Going Batty.” That set off a bat obsession! Reading Stellaluna in seventh grade just reinforced it. I used to pretend to be one and wrap myself up in my blankets like wings. Bats are cute! I recently got back into them! There’s an adorable little plush one hanging above my bed. “So dark of wing and keen of craft, of all night flyers the master’s a bat.” (Actually, the master of night flyers is totally Prince Astor of Umbragard.)

I like horror stories and gothic literature. Back when creepypasta was big, I’d casually read collections of horror stories on Quotev. Now, I really love Nox Arcana’s “Tales from the Dark Tower,” Poe stories, Grimm’s fairy tales, and the like. I actually have a pretty strong stomach. I also genuinely love gothic lit. The Picture of Dorian Gray is my favorite. I didn’t make it through Frankenstein, though, it was too sad.

I’m introverted and a night owl. I wouldn’t say I have a “stereotypical” Goth personality, because I’ve been trying to be more optimistic and happy, and I’ve attempted to make friends, but one of the reasons I like Raven from Teen Titans is because I tend to be the isolated girl in dark clothes who’d rather be left alone. I’m not exactly stoic-- I’m an emotional wreck, but once you get me talking about a topic I’m interested in, I’m all moonlight and fireflies. I’m also a “tortured artist,” and I come alive at night. I stay up until at least 2 AM most nights. I ate breakfast at one today. 

I have a black cat named Edgar. I did not name him! He was given that name at the shelter. All the kittens in his litter were named after gothic writers, because they were all black! (His brother was “H.P.” after Lovecraft.) I was thrilled when my parents said we were getting him, and equally thrilled when they decided to keep his name. He’s such a sweet cat, and I love him.

I like vampires, but I have a complicated relationship with them. You’d think I’d be the kind of girl who’d be obsessed with vampires in middle school, especially if I loved the Vampire Friz episode of The Magic School Bus! But no. I wasn’t into vampires because they killed people and that was disturbing. (That’s why I independently created psychic vampires.)  However, since getting into Castlevania last Halloween, I’ve started to really warm up to vampires. I dressed as Lestat last Halloween, read Carpe Jugulum, have been consuming more vampire media than before... I’m still not obsessed, but I like them now. Still would hate to be one, though. SHADOWS FOR THE WIN!

I LOVE Halloween! I was devastated the two years it was canceled (freak snowstorm and Hurricane Sandy. Oh, by the way, my reaction to the current hurricane was, “He put his soul in a hurricane, now?!). I really miss trick-or-treating. I convinced my parents to throw an annual Halloween party, which gave me an excuse to get even more decorations for my room, and they pretty much can’t host it without me. Everyone shares my aesthetic during Halloween season!

I’m really into witchy and occult stuff. The more cryptic and spooky, the better. I was Wiccan-ish for a while, I don’t think I am anymore, but I’m still exploring my spirituality (through books like Nocturnal Witchcraft and Shadow Magick Compendium) with guidance from Hecate and Dionysus. 

Whether my music taste is truly “Goth” or not, it is certainly very spooky. Nox Arcana all the way! I really go in for the church organ and glockenspiel and chiming bells and melancholy piano and strings and harpsichords and minor keys. Listening to spooky music makes me happy. I have a whole list of creepy waltzes. Neoclassical is my thing. I also like Adrian von Zeigler, Peter Gundry, Two Steps From Hell, and fantasy music in general. 

Un-Goth Confessions:

I don’t like gothic rock. Some would say this means I’m not Goth, and it felt alienating for a while. Siouxsie and Bauhaus just aren’t really my thing. I don’t really like industrial and darkwave, either. The closest I get to traditional Goth music is Voltaire (I love the songs of his that I listen to, but I only listen to a handful), and a few songs by Dead Can Dance. I’m much more into Nox Arcana.

I don’t look stereotypically Goth. I joke that I look like Aurora and dress like Maleficent, because it’s true. My cheeks are permanently rosy and not easy to cover with white makeup (I don’t wear makeup often, anyway.) I have big blue eyes and wavy, golden hair (that I’m not going to dye). I don’t have any piercings— when my sister went for her second piercing, she encouraged me to get my ears pierced, but I broke down crying because I’m afraid of pain. I’m an adult!

I still like horsies and unicorns and other cutesy things from my childhood. I was really into Gen 3 of My Little Pony. I still have some fairy and ballerina stuff, even if I don’t display it. My bedroom is still lavender (and always will be). I definitely wasn’t spooky in childhood, and I’ve still got a non-spooky side. (It was kind of a big deal when I dressed as a rainbow unicorn fairy when I was seven, and then a dark sorceress when I was eight.)  I danced in my company’s adapted kiddie production of the Nutcracker until I graduated. I’ve got fluffy stuffed unicorns right next to my Spiral Bat Cat.

I HATE DIY. I don’t trust it! I don’t want to ruin my clothes with fabric paint or rip holes in things or in any way risk it turning out poorly. My style is tough to DIY anyway, but yeah.

I’m not really into the macabre. I only got into skeletons because of Undertale, and I don’t like, for lack of a better phrase, “the death aesthetic.” Blood, body horror art, the zombie look... I don’t really like anything morbid or sad. I’m iffy on graveyards and coffins.

I don’t like most horror films. I like spooky movies, like Coraline, but not horror movies. Although I like horror stories, I don’t like horror films, less because of the horror and more because they tend to end badly. I don’t like “everybody dies” stories, especially if it’s one where sympathetic people get killed off one by one, or slasher flicks that rely on jumpscares. Old-school gothic horror could work, though. I also like psychological thrillers like The Sixth Sense and Black Swan. Is Interview With the Vampire a horror movie? (I probably underestimate how strong my stomach is. Aladdin used to scare me. Look at me now!)

I still wear a lot of color. About half my wardrobe is black, which is still a lot, but not as much as most Goths. I’ve still got a lot of purple, and other colors.

I’m not a huge fan of Tim Burton. The only film of his that I really love was Corpse Bride. Beetlejuice wasn’t my style and didn’t contain enough of Lydia, Sweeney Todd was a bit too dark and gory (although I did like that one), Dark Shadows wasn’t as good as I was hoping, Alice in Wonderland was cool aesthetically but not a very good film, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was a dumpster fire... and The Nightmare Before Christmas doesn’t count because he didn’t direct it (and though I like it, I wasn’t blown away by it, either). My reaction overall? “Meh.”

I still contain a childish exuberance. I squealed and bounced up and down when the new Nox Arcana album was released. I will probably do the same before and/or after watching Season 3 of Castlevania, and when Grimoire of Souls is released. This is how I know that Goth stuff is part of my true personality. 

There’s a lot of Goth clothes that I don’t wear, in addition to not dying my hair, not wearing makeup, and not having piercings. I’d wear black heeled boots like Dracula’s, but not platform shoes. I don’t like fishnets. I hate ripped clothing. Not a fan of hoodies. I also will not wear leather clothing. And spiked collars? No no no. I’m pretty much strictly a Romantigoth. Maybe that doesn’t make me less Goth. But it makes me less stereotypical, especially when so much of the Goth stuff online is geared toward that end of the subculture.

And I don’t know if this makes me more Goth or less Goth, but I have one outfit from Hot Topic. And an epic “House of Belmont” t-shirt.

Okay, that was interesting.

“I’M SO GOTH, I LITERALLY DARKEN A DOORWAY!”

[salavante]

for the OC tag thing: the Helmsman!

Cat’s out the bag so here’s The Helmsman featured with his real name! 

Full Name: Yawg-Ecthylion, The Helmsman, God of The Void

Gender and Sexuality: Male and eh I dunno, I’ve never thought about it, but his two romantic entanglements have been with women.

Pronouns: He/Him but I don’t think he’d turn his nose up at they/them, I think he sees himself as existing outside of human constructs of that kind of thing. He’s not really even organic.

Ethnicity/Species: Threnghelleon Deity

Birthplace and Birthdate: Hah ok, here’s a funfact that I’ll probably talk about later in something specifically about them, and that I think I talked about with Ethem-Cailo. All of the OG Threnghelleon gods were made by Jovix-Diocunigast’s experiences. There was awhile where whenever Dio had a new thought or action, a new god would spin into being. The Helmsman was created when Dio first conceptualized ‘nothingness’. I think there’s a little more to it than that, but that ball might be in my Co-DM’s court.

Guilty Pleasures: The Helmsman is cruel, bitter and sadistic, and enjoys inflicting pain on things. I think one can extract a lot from that alone. Before the hunt, he had spent most of his several millennia long life almost completely isolated, hunting eldritch abominations at the bottom of Threnghelleon’s icy ocean, which has informed a lot of his decision making in how he fights and sees his opponents. Wearing down large enemies slowly, making use of what’s left of the carcass - that’s The Helmsman’s game. Which is really a roundabout way of saying that he basically tortures his opponents and then takes trophies or makes scrimshaws, leather-working pieces, etc out of the dead gods and mortals that he faces on The Hunt. He likes to step on toes and rattle cages to get reactions out of people. Negative attention is better than no attention, and it’s certainly made him a fan favorite among Threnghelleon’s edgier viewers. I say this as a guilty pleasure because he is not incapable of guilt, and before the hunt, was a fairly honorable, lawful God, if not still violent and creepy. In rare moments of reflection, he wonders how he fell so far, but usually doubles down afterwards. The public and the rest of the pantheon saw him a certain light that gained him attention, and he, starved for any kind of connection to others, leaned heavily into it. He has allowed other people’s perceptions and opinions of him to shape his identity and sense of personhood, which I think is rather tragic, but he likes making belts out of human hair so...

Phobias: It’s hard for me to say what The Helmsman is afraid of because most of his worst fears have come to pass and have made him the bastard coated bastard we know today. Being alone, being forgotten countless times, having his expertise and hard work taken advantage of. Paranoia aimed at Jovix-Diocunigast has turned out to be entirely accurate - Dio felt threatened by how much attention that The Helmsman was getting for defending the realm and killing giant monsters, so Dio effectively cursed him so that no one could remember his name. People began calling him Yawg-Ecthylion less and less, and The Helmsman more and more. Ethem-Awnrah, Goddess of Memory, is the only one who remembered his real name.

What They Would Be Famous For: The Helmsman played pretty much right into Dio’s ploy and turned into a craven, vile weirdo, and the media circus that broadcasts The Hunt loves him for it.

What They Would Get Arrested For: Murder and turning corpses into crafts.

OC You Ship Them With: The Helmsman has had two canonical spouses which have both produced children. His first wife was mortal, a deep-sea marine biologist named Svea who came upon his ship, The Susurrant Phantasm, in her own submarine while researching the fauna surrounding the Mouth of Yawg, Threnghelleon’s entrance into the void/ether/unknown/whatever you’d like to call it. Their union produced The Helmsman’s demigod daughter Yawg-Enyion, who would later take up his mantle of defending the realm with her warfleet while The Helmsman was on The Hunt. However, between her inability to remember his name, and being torn between her own life and her duty as the wife of a deity, the two of them split. Enyion reminds The Helmsman of his ex-wife a bit too much for comfort, and the two of them have a very strained, complicated relationship.

The next one is a little bit of a doozy.

Yawg-Ecthylion and Ethem-Awnrah always kind of had eyes for each other, and were courting before he lost his name and was soft-shunned by the rest of the pantheon. This, naturally, disrupted all of that, and they would not reconnect until The Hunt occurred. In the time between The Circle going on The Hunt and The Helmsman slowly deteriorating into a monstrous douchebag, he and Awnrah clicked again and produced a son: Veth-Rawn, the mysterious god of Psychics. But Sal, you say, in that writeup you made a thousand years ago, didn’t you say that Veth-Rawn had uncertain parentage? Well, that is because The Helmsman being a nasty ass murderous bastard made The Goddess of Memory so incensed that she accidentally wiped all of the universe’s memory of their time together in a fit of passionate rage. This, unfortunately, included Veth-Rawn, leaving the God of Psychics mentally shattered, and forced to grow up utterly alienated by his would-be family, who didn’t know who he was or why he was there. It is only really recently that this came to light, and was one of my endgame plot twists.

If the team beats Dio, The Helmsman will go back to Threnghelleon with his comatose son to heal him and try to make things right with his daughter, Enyion. Awnrah is staying with the hometeam and the other defectors from The Hunt - Geeg, Derog and Wybjorn. I’ll probably touch on her sometime on her own, I’m quite fond of her, and she’s a Good Guy now so she’ll be featuring in post-Godslaughter campaigns.

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Either Jonquil (his hometeam rival for the game), Jovix-Diocunigast or Jovix-Cailo. Jonquil spent the better part of the game trying to learn how to shove his soul into a diamond and hurl it into space. Jovix-Cailo has hated him for a very long time and enjoyed tormenting him as soon as he got a power bump. And Dio would just turn him into a smear for defecting. Awnrah could also utterly annihilate him if she wasn’t such a decent person, she could crack his psyche open like an egg.  

This is where the book/movie section usually goes but I’ll be real with you, I don’t think The Helmsman bothers with either. I think he sees most things of human invention as being kind of beneath him. But he especially hates most artistic interpretations of himself, and has very seldom happened upon one that he feels gives him due diligence.

Talents and/or Powers: The Helmsman honestly has a build that I would LOVE to use as a player character. It hinges largely on stacking DOTs (Damage Over Time) and status afflictions, making him able to whittle down opponents with large health pools as well as get a trickle of HP back to himself. His whaling hooks are called Black Tongue and North Star, and they give him some pretty impressive reach, and the ability to swing large, heavy objects around. He also has a few abilities such as “Where Strides The Behemoth” that gives him heavier damage output when he’s facing an enemy larger than him, and “Like Water”, where he effectively ignore gravity and can move freely through space. His very large peepers are usually squinting, as he is not really accustomed to full light, but in darkness, they open all the way into horrible, near perfect circles. Really, out of all of the Threnghelleon gods, The Helmsman is the most biologically compatible with his environment.

Why Someone Might Love Them: The Helmsman has a very primal, intense quality that I think a certain kind of person could find attractive. For many years, he did a very dirty, thankless job that benefitted all mankind and the pantheon, which is perfectly respectable. He’s fairly witty and is good at banter, and is handy in a fight, a couple of traits that Threnghelleon folk appreciate. I also think his more tragic qualities attract a level of pity that could entice someone to desire becoming closer to him. I dunno, he has magic eyes that see in the dark, some people dig that.

Why Someone Might Hate Them: He stalks/murders/tortures indiscriminately and treats corpses of pretty much anything like someone would treat the corpse of an animal. He does not see the distinction between humanoid person and animal/monster and considers it all free game. He’s mouthy, impatient, cruel and sadistic and has set aflame 10,000 worlds. What’s not to hate.

How They Change: The Helmsman’s arc in the game was the slow-dawning horror of the fact that pretty much all of his current murderous identity has been spoon-fed to him by other people, and he just kind of went along with it because he was weak-willed and desperate for attention. This troubles him pretty deeply and makes him lose his hutzpah towards the end of the game. He does end up defecting from the Hunt to the hometeam to help take down Diocunigast, the guy who cursed him and started his downhill slope. But I really hesitate to say that he’s a Good Guy. He doesn’t feel all that bad about all the people he’s tortured/killed/made into fanny packs, at least not to the degree he should. The Helmsman will still go about his nasty ways when he’s back on Threnghelleon, but will be more judicious about who he kills and how. He’s also resolved to try and repair his relationship with his daughter Enyion, and hopefully heal Veth-Rawn. He has no intention, however, to try and re-initiate a romantic relationship with Ethem-Awnrah, though he still kinda loves her. He knows he FUBAR’d that one.

Why You Love Them: I enjoy villains! His ferocity is cathartic and entertaining and challenging to to the PCs. I genuinely wasn’t sure if he was going to be alive or not by the end of our game. Sometimes it’s fun to just have a downright fucker in the mix. I also like his design, which while not THE most inspired, is a lot of fun to draw. The Helmsman was the first of the Gods that I designed, with Ethem-Cailo being second. Also an internet stranger said he was hot once.

[diningpageantry]

writer’s tag

i was tagged by @basic-banshee (thank you for the tag!!!)

1. how did you start writing?

ooh boy this is a Story. okay uhh i was raised in this cult thing (long story that i’m willing to tell ltr) and part of our education process was writing books so uh i wrote a full length children’s book at like 6 y/o (maybe 5? i think i was 6 tho) and i wrote a couple more before we left. i kept writing tho and i’ve always sort of creatively wrote for myself, then at the end of 6th grade into 7th grade i found the wonders of fanfiction and i was like holy shit so i started writing johnlock fanfics (oof) and uh here i am now

2. what was your first writing project? tell us a little about it.

it was uh about some horses and girls and i’m not saying it was horseland but it was basically horseland. i don’t remember much except one of them nearly died after falling into a ditch because i was a dark and disturbed child (and an even more dark and disturbed adult now tbh) but there was that happy ending. so yeah. that.

3. what is your preferred mediums for writing first drafts?

word docs. i usually move it to a good doc after i’m done, but i like starting with word

4. what rituals or habits do you have around writing?

there’s a good couple. i usually get ideas on a whim, so i do a shitty outline on my phone (honestly it’s laughable if you look at them. i showed a friend a plan list and she started cracking up because most of it is just “??????”) and try to set up a plot flow first before writing. for original works, i actually draw the characters first so i can kinda have a fully put together mental image before i work. while writing, i put on (typically instrumental) music that goes with the mood of the fic (for example, for my demon fic, i put on The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey album) whenever working to kinda put myself in the mindset.

5. we all have a “type” - of character, plot, theme - what is yours?

oohh boy. uh, pain. i like writing people hurting and in distress. angst? hell yeah baby. character wise i write a lot of kinda bitter or sarcastic queer people who are secret softies. plot wise i usually go with a “man vs. self” shit. love that internal struggle.

6. introduce us to one (or more!) of your OCs!

heheh okay uhh i’ll start with my current project, a sapphic graphic novel i’m working on. there’s Summer, who’s a high femme lesbian. she’s like... the proper looking girlfriend who likes sweaters and long flow-y skirts and makeup but she’s the rebel and gets into trouble and smokes and gets fucked up on stolen vodka way too often. she’s short and a lil chubby and she’s just the problematic fave. her girlfriend, (who’s actual name is still up for debate, but i just call her Matchstick because she dyes her hair bright/unnatural red and that’s what Summer calls her) rides a motorcycle and wears leather and jeans, but she’s a straight (heh) A student who meditates in the morning and writes sappy poetry for her girlfriend. she’s like... average taller and kinda awkwardly lanky in that way, too. this is set in suburban New Jersey and Summer has a thick NJ accent while Matchstick moved around most of her life because her dad was military (nasty divorce about 3 years prior to when the story is set) but she finally settled with her mom and little brother.

i have another OC that i abandoned that i might bring into the graphic novel (despite her having her own story that i don’t quite know if i’ll finish? it was something i started working on like 3 years ago and abandoned because it’s a tad cliche). her name is ayala and she’s a mixed jew (half ashkenazi, half mizrahi) who’s got a grunge punk aesthetic and she’s the classic bitter bi bitch who just drinks black coffee and complains. honestly? light of my life. she sneaks butterfly knives into NJ and takes a grater to her jeans and just ugh. fave.

7. what’s your favorite genre to read?

fantasy, sci-fi, mystery, and queer YA romance (i have a building library of these)

8. favorite genre to write?

fantasy, queer YA, and not exactly horror but dark stories (i’m writing a morbid children’s storybook rn to just str8 up submit to college board for a drawing portfolio)

9. how do you conduct your authorial research?

hah. google, usually. sometimes i ask my roommate shit, like once i leaned over my bed, looked at him and said “do demons have lairs?” and he thought i said layers so he looked at me, squinted and said slowly “like ogres?”

10. what does your editing (gasp) process look like?

hahAH nah it’s usually me writing shit out, like SLAMMING that shit out, then sometimes reading over it before i put it on my doc to edit. once it’s on the doc, i set my betas to it (sometimes more than my usual beta or two) and i usually read over it while they’re reading too so i edit then too? once they’re finished, i edit whatever suggestions. then i usually do another comb through, looking for little shit, then i share that shit.

11. what are your favorite tropes?

*chanting* MAN VS. SELF MAN VS. SELF MAN VS. SELF i love me some internal struggle. that and miscommunications and poor communication. basically anything that creates angst.

12. show off your writing space

i’m too tired rn but it’s just my loft bed. that’s it. it’s an ikea bed with a bunch of pillows and blankets on it, fairy lights wrapped around one side, and a shelf next to my head for my laptop/food/drinks/anything else i need

13. what is the most useful piece of writing advice you’ve ever used?

it’s odd because it isn’t exactly writing advice, but i use it in reference to my writing. i’m told that i tend to over-complicate shit, that i explain too much and i need to take a step back, and i kinda use that in my writing. it makes me look over paragraphs sometimes and just cut it because hey, that’s either not needed or i can explore the character in other ways than just saying how they’re like. i feel like it really helps because rather than saying shit about the character, i try to make them show it in their actions. it helps, i suppose.

14. what’s the least useful piece of advice you’ve ever ignored?

“do they have to be gay?”

15. your writing beverage/snack of choice?

oh boy okay this really depends on when i’m writing. if i write during early/mid-day, it’s usually a huge mug of breakfast tea with two spoonfuls of sugar, milk, and some kedem tea biscuits (usually original, but sometimes vanilla). sometimes i’ll make myself some instant noodles, if i’m really hungry. if it’s night time, it’s black coffee, and a lot of it.

16. how do you compile your ideas?

fffff uhhhh my note app on my samsung akdsfdsh okay i hate me too but all my ideas go into at least 3 unorganized note files because they always come to me in a whim and i don’t like putting a plot note with a summary note, so i have different note pages for different elements of the story.

17. what are your controversial opinions™ on the craft of writing?

oof uh... don’t write any romance that’s unneeded. also making characters do something shocking doesn’t make the story interesting. writers who feel the need to make a shocking twist aren’t good writers, because if that’s all that’s keeping readers entertained, then it’s not the writing itself, it’s them just trying to figure shit out. i’m not referencing horror or suspense, but let’s say a character who’s known for being aggressively loyal suddenly cheats on their partner for no truly viable reason, then that just feels like sloppy and boring writing that’s supposed to be interesting but isn’t. so, controversial opinion, but if you’re a good writer, you don’t need that kinda shit.

tagging @jessethejoyful @ravenclawbaz @angelsfalling16 @bazypitchandsimonsnow and any other writers who wanna do this (just tag me because i’d wanna see it!!!)

[archonreviews]

The Archon’s Review of Kingdoms of Amalur: Reckoning

Kingdoms of Amalur: Reckoning is a fantasy role-playing game developed by Big Huge Games and published by Electronic Arts. In the fantasy realm of Amalur, Fate has dictated the comings and goings of all things. Particularly sensitive to the workings of Fate are the immortal Fae, whom are divided into the Summer Court and the Winter Court. However, tragedy strikes when a rebellious Winter Fae named Gadflow decides that the current Winter King isn’t doing enough murder, and that he should be king instead. After killing the Winter King and usurping his throne, Gadflow and his followers, the Tuatha Deohn, go to war against the mortal races of Elf, Gnome, and Human. The mortals seem doomed, as while the Tuatha can be killed, they reincarnate quite quickly and return to fight, whereas the mortals die when they are killed. To circumvent this disadvantage, a Gnome by the name of Fomorous Hughes creates the Well of Souls, a device meant to resurrect the dead. You are its first apparent success, and in the process of reviving, you become unbound from Fate, and basically ruin it for everyone. Now, you are the last hope for mortal-kind to defeat the villainous Gadflow and his Tuatha followers, restoring balance to the Fae Courts and preserving the realm of Amalur.

I first heard of Kingdoms of Amalur back in the mid-2000′s, just around when I was playing Oblivion obsessively. It was contemporary with another third-person fantasy thingie, Two Worlds, which the GameStop employee recommended against, before trying to shill for GameInformer. I suppose my point here is that I picked up KoA:R because I was curious to see what I had missed all those years ago. And yes, I am aware of the controversy surrounding the game’s creation and the dismantling of Big Huge Games, but I must confess to not being too familiar with the happenings.

The first thing one may notice in this game is the graphics. They’re actually pretty damn good, with beautiful vistas and vibrant landscapes. The characters are surprisingly expressive, even if that expressiveness does result in some humorous facial expressions. The character models are a little funny though; all the men, at least, have what I like to call “Ground Beef Body”. I ended up naming my character “Flaskkott Djur”, or “Pork Animal” in Swedish because he immediately reminded me of a hunk of ground beef (I got the word “Flaskkott” confused with the word “Nottkott” which is “Beef”. There’s your Swedish lesson for the day).

(Just look at that chin! And he’s got the neck of an ox to boot!)

Speaking of vistas, the diversity of environments is greater than I might have expected; although, get ready to see plenty of magical forests. There are, however, plenty of deserts, beaches, swamps, and arid landscapes to explore, all with plenty of monsters to kill and things to loot. All the environments are quite pretty and vibrant to behold and great emphasis has been placed on making each area feel like its own self-contained region. Even the magical forests feel different enough from one-another that you’re not likely to get lost.

(Upward shot of one of the game’s major cities. Go all the way south, along a beach and across a desert and through a forest, and you’ll find a Greco-Roman city ruled by Gnomes, as opposed to this necropolis-looking thing.)

Character creation is interesting. You only have two choices at the start; race and deity to worship. Funnily enough, you can choose to be an atheist, and it may be the best choice in my opinion, not because I’m some trilby-wearing “Dark Enlightenment” nutter, but because being an atheist gives you a permanent +1% experience point boost, and I’m always a slut for levelling up. All the other deities give you different boosts, and each of the four playable races gives you certain bonuses to non-combat skills.

When I say that you only have two choices at the start, I was leading up to something. See, KoA:R sort of has you create your character throughout the entire game. Every time you level up, you get a point for non-combat skills and for combat abilities. You could easily make the case that all RPG’s do something similar, having the player build up their character over the course of the game, but the difference is that KoA:R basically gives you nothing to begin with, save for a few points in all the beginning combat skills, plus a few points in non-combat skills dependent upon your chose race. Most other RPG’s would at least give you a bit more than that, if only to establish a direction. KoA:R is unique in that building your character is a persistent, fluid process, which keeps it engaging; in addition, the ability to refund all your points for a small fee allows you to go back and try a different build should you get curious/ fed-up.

One side-note I’d like to make mention of: If you’re the sort of person who gives a shit about difficulty curve, don’t buy the “Weapons and Armor Bundle” DLC. As the name would suggest, it creates a chest in the first town filled with weapons and armors for you to grab and use at your leisure. And while you’ll get/craft better equipment in time, it’s still better than the equipment you would otherwise have at the time, and it throws the balance off for a bit.

Speaking of crafting, the game actually has a pretty rad crafting system which allows you to create equipment, potions, and socketable gems. And frankly, once you put enough points into the requisite skills, you can craft some frankly ridiculous things. After a while, I was salvaging nearly all my equipment for the spare parts, rather than selling it. Gold wasn’t much of an issue anyway, and I wanted to see if I could craft an even more effective murder tool.

If it seems like I’ve been avoiding the topic of combat for a while, it’s because I’ve been avoiding the topic of combat for a while. Honestly, I think it’s one of the weaker elements. It’s slow and cumbersome, and it’s completely possible to be hit for a full combo because you couldn’t get your fucking shield up in time because you were already swinging at a different enemy. Whenever I swung my sword, I was committed for roughly the next half-hour. Also, for those of you more used to Dark Souls styled dodge-rolling, I should warn you that the dodge-roll in this game does not seem to have any invincibility frames; it just zips in a direction real quick is all.

(Spiders rather quickly became my arch-nemeses. They always came in groups, attacked somewhat unpredictably, and where often harder to kill than might be expected.)

To be fair, once you level up a bit and develop your own tactics, combat becomes easier. Learning your enemies’ attack patterns and learning abilities that stagger them, or prevent you from being staggered will help immensely.

If the plot synopsis up there seemed kind of involved and a little faffy, it’s because that’s how the game is. Ostensibly, the whole thing is based on old Irish and Scottish myths about the fae, and while the influence is clearly there, and it’s clear that the devs at least did a modicum of research on the mythologies they use. I like the idea of fighting Fate, the rapacious bastard. Although, there’s a bit where it’s implied that you’re appearance (remember, your character exists outside the web of Fate) was itself predicted by Fate. As others have pointed out, that point is kind of mad, but it’s not as big a deal as it sounds, and there’s evidence to suggest that perhaps Fate has simply rewritten itself to fit you in.

(The antagonist either screaming in madness or receiving amazing head. I’ll let you decide.)

Now, I have a bit of a confession to make. I spent almost my entire time playing this on sidequests. Much work has been done to ensure that the sidequest chains are engaging, from helping the resident mercenary guild fight an invading demon lord and his army of elven followers, to saving a small village from a rogue Fae and her spider minions. I had a lot of fun on all the sidequests; I almost forgot about the critical path. By the time I got back, I was massively overlevelled and had a set of powerful equipment to back me up.

Here’s a weird thing apropos of nothing: while the human ladies are dressed normally (boob-plates notwithstanding), the elven ladies are almost always in some kind of revealing top, often a deep V-neck. I have no idea why this is; there’s no lore reason for it. Maybe Big Huge consisted entirely of elf-misogynists? It’s bizarre is all.

(She’s just dressed like this. No idea why, especially when a normal human wearing leather armor has it look like regular leather armor.)

Now, some people have compared this game to Skyrim; certain reviewers even calling it “Baby’s first Skyrim“ I don’t necessarily think the comparison is a fair one. Whereas Skyrim is very much a standard fantasy RPG in the vein of its forebears, KoA leans more heavily on semi-frenetic combat action, even bumping up against the (admittedly nebulous) action-adventure genre in the subway car. Crafting is different as well. Whereas Skyrim has you stock up on ores and ingots to craft with, this game has you salvaging your old weapons to find screws and grips and rivets, which gives the crafting a different feel, even if they are functionally very similar. While Skyrim is admittedly a more detailed, immersive experience (glitches notwithstanding), KoA is about as complicated as it needs to be. It gets in all the features it needs to be a pretty good game in its runtime.

And Kingdoms of Amalur: Reckoning is a pretty good game. Levelling up is more addictive than it is in most RPG’s, and great pains have been taken to make sure that each quest is fun and interesting, not just the main questline. Despite the reputation it’s accrued as a cut-rate Skyrim or “That one game what got a bunch of people in trouble and now it’s owned by Rhode Island,” I’d recommend it to anyone who likes somewhat complex fantasy worlds and/or anyone who likes their RPG’s a little bit on the actiony side. I may come back to it. After all, I’m more than half-way to the level cap and I’m not even close to the end of the main quest.

All in all, it’s a damn fine game. Would love to complete it some time.

(A back shot of a male character. I told you these people are made of ground beef.)

[devontroxell]

How to Sell on Etsy: Your All-in-One Guide to Getting Started

If you are the proud owner of a new cloth mask, maybe you bought that mask from a seller on Etsy. And you’re in good company; I bought mine on Etsy, too! And maybe when you were scrolling through an endless supply of masks—tie-dye, sports-themed, silly mouths, and inspirational slogans—you stumbled upon some other cool merch. I’m a sucker for the vintage jewelry and needlepoint from Etsy sellers.

Etsy shops have exploded during the pandemic, not just with mask sellers, but with new boutiques started by people who got into “quarantine hobbies” or small businesses pivoting to ecommerce. If you’re looking to make some cash money from your side hustle, we’re going to break down exactly how to sell on Etsy, including:

Why you should sell on Etsy

How to set up your Etsy shop

How to sell A LOT of your product on Etsy

Let’s get started.

Is selling on Etsy worth it?

The short answer is yes.

But let me explain. One of the best things about Etsy is that they help sell your merchandise. Yes, that means they advertise your items for you! So if you’re just getting started on your ecommerce adventure, Etsy is a great place to get your feet wet and crowd-test your products.

Etsy’s top sellers make $10,000 per year from their shops, and the platform boasts 31.7 million active buyers. This means that your products could be discovered by millions of people who would never hear of your business otherwise. The exposure and free advertising is a great place to kick off your custom-made craft business.

Particularly because the world of ecommerce can be fraught with scams, Etsy is a safe place to start. The platform truly teaches you best practices on how to sell your products, with plenty of hand-holding, community forums, seller handbooks, and a dedicated team to help sort out any issues you may run into.

How to set up your etsy shop

If you’ve bought items on Etsy before, you probably already have an account. If not, go ahead and set up a shiny new Etsy login. Once that’s all set, you’ll be able to start setting up your very own Etsy shop!

Set your shop preferences

The process is fairly simple. Etsy walks you through the step-by-step process below, starting with the basics: your shop language, country, currency, and a little bit about yourself as a seller.

Name your Etsy shop

Truly, the toughest part is the next step: naming your shop. The pressure. is. on. I recommend naming your shop something broadly descriptive. For example, if you’re interested in selling fresh pizza dough and you want to name your name PizzaDoughOnly2000, think about how you might diversify or expand in the future. What if you want to sell bread one day? Or pizza toppings?

You can also go abstract, like “Rising Yeast 2020,” or add your name into the mix, e.g., Mary Lister Baking. Before you commit, google your Etsy shop name to make sure you’re not replicating an existing shop (on or off Etsy), or accidentally choosing a problematic name.

Finally, remember that capitalization and spelling matters! Proofread before you publish!

Stock your shop

Next, it’s time to stock up. This is the most laborious part of setting up your Etsy shop—but it’s easier than setting up an ecommerce website since Etsy lets you plug-and-play. They suggest adding ten or more items when you get started since shoppers love to have options.

First, add your imagery. Etsy walks you through the best ways to take product photos—and, in exciting news, you can now add videos to bring your product to life! One video seems way easier than 15 pictures from different angles, and it’ll help give your shoppers a better understanding of the craftsmanship.

Next, you’ll be prompted to fill in details about your items. The options displayed below are mandatory fields and self-explanatory.

The next options involve creating sections in your shop. For instance, if you sell leather goods and want to break it down into wallets, purses, keychains, etc., as well as selecting tags to make it easier to search and find your goods, and the materials you used to create them.

Select pricing and shipping

If you’re already selling your wares elsewhere—maybe a swap meet or farmer’s market—pricing your products should be pretty easy. I would adjust pricing to include Etsy’s fees, which are $0.20 per listing and 5% of the item price when it is sold. You’ll have the option to assign SKUs to your products, display any variations (e.g., color, material, size), and allow a shopper to input personalization information.

After you set the price for your listing, you can set up shipping costs. While it may seem simple when you’re the shopper, stores meticulously choose what type of shipping costs they want to cover, build into the cost of the item or bill directly to you. 

Etsy gives you the option of manually selecting the cost of shipping or having their algorithm calculate it for you. You’ll input the zip code you’ll be shipping from, how long it’ll take you to ship, if you want to ship internationally or just domestically (and which countries you can ship to), the types of shipping services, and allow you to add a handling fee. Finally, you’ll need to input the weight and measurements of your products to accurately estimate the total shipping costs.

How to get paid

You can enroll in Etsy Payments, which gives buyers a variety of ways to pay for your products, like Apple Pay, Paypal, major credit cards, Google Pay, and Etsy credit and gift cards. It means all the money you collect from sales can be directly deposited in your account, in your own currency, on a regular basis. Etsy requires all eligible sellers to enroll in Etsy Payments to provide a more consistent shopping experience for their users, but … it’s unclear how you wouldn’t qualify for Etsy Payments. Otherwise, you can select your own preferences for which payments you’ll accept from buyers.

Set up billing

Final step! You need to attach a line of credit (credit card) to your brand new shop in order to pay Etsy’s seller fees. Make sure you understand all of Etsy’s fees before you dive in. It can get complicated, and while it probably isn’t expensive off the bat, the fees can add up. Check out more detail on those fees here.

How to sell A LOT on Etsy

There you have it—getting started selling on Etsy is straightforward. But it can be difficult to stand out from the crowd on Etsy. That’s why we rounded up some quick tips to make you’re not just selling on Etsy but selling a lot on this platform.

Do some competitive research

Before you start selling, check out your favorite Etsy stores to see what stands out to you! Why did you pick those sellers—was it the description of their offerings? The materials they use? The efficiency in shipping and handling? Identify the best traits in each shop so you can replicate them in yours for an optimal buying experience for your own ecommerce brand on Etsy.

Image source

Follow the guidelines

Follow the guidelines for what to sell—more specifically, what you’re allowed and not allowed to sell. Etsy is different from ecommerce platforms like, say, Amazon or eBay. Etsy requires their sellers to offer unique items. That means you need to be selling vintage, handmade, or craft supplies to open an Etsy shop. Etsy has an article about items that are prohibited from sale on their site, which you can view here.

Tell your brand story in your Etsy profile

Take the time to tell your brand story in your shop description. Like cooking blogs, with cool backstories about where they found the recipe and how they adjusted to make it their own, it’ll draw shoppers in. Kingsley Leather explains his leather working journey in his shop description; how he began working with leather as a hobby and eventually made it his full-time job. 

He also dives into why he values quality leather products, namely, that he was sick of cheaply made goods and hated wearing through wallets quickly. This particular tidbit is great marketing; sure, his products may be expensive, but they’re worth it.

Connect your social media accounts

Connect your social media accounts and website for your business. This gives shoppers more options if they want to see your designs IRL (online), you can show off new projects you’re working on, and promote your buyers through your social channels. Think of it as a great way to get more followers on social, more buyers on Etsy, and, even better, it can help you sell more goods that may not meet Etsy’s guidelines.

BrynnandCo connected her Instagram, Facebook, and Pinterest, so you can take a peek into her work studio and see more of how she displays her finished products--needlepoints!

Keep your availability and estimates up to date

If you’re on vacation or experiencing difficulties with productivity, make an announcement so your shoppers know what to expect. This will prevent disappointments if they can’t get their item on time or can give buyers a heads up if you’re about to drop a new line of cool new shirts. Even better, provide them with a discount code for their patience, as The Fro Experts did.

The first step to selling on Etsy: Go and get started!

And there you have it—everything you need to know about how to sell on Etsy, a platform that offers everything. If you want anything handmade and personalized, unique and crafted, it’s on Etsy. And I’m all for it. I’ve even taken a dive into taxidermy Etsy (yes, it’s really real), vintage board game Etsy, and miniature doll Etsy for photoshoots, which *did not* disappoint. If you have a unique product created with your own two hands, Etsy is the place to sell. Good luck out there!

How to Sell on Etsy: Your All-in-One Guide to Getting Started published first on https://wabusinessapi.tumblr.com/

[itsworn]

Overbuilt: Pure Vision Design Builds a Better GTO

When you first see it, you think, “Now that right there is a really nice car…”

It’s a simple compliment, but one that means so much in the sea of over-customized offerings that we’re usually privy to.

You then stop for a moment, let your eyes refocus, and in doing so, begin to take in the amount of detail and care that’s gone into Pure Vision’s latest creation: a 1971 Pontiac GTO convertible. It was thankfully pulled from a field where it was left for dead, and upon doing a bit of research, was found to be one of only 653 drop-top GTO’s built for the ‘71 model year as well as being the last year for the convertible GTO – ever.

Pure Vision Design is located in Simi Valley, CA and has been producing beautifully reimagined muscle cars for more than twenty years. It’s headed by Ring Master Steve Strope whose calm exterior fools you into thinking that there’s not actually a full-blown circus happening inside his head. That’s why, when a client asks Steve for ideas in regards to a build, he puts on his top hat and gets all giddy. A man of principle, he never builds the same car twice, and when asked to do so he simply states, “Somebody paid a lot of money for version 1.0 and I’m not going to insult them by making 2.0 for somebody else. I’ll just design them their own car.”

Not only does this guarantee exclusivity for the client, but it also ensures that every vehicle that comes out of Pure Vision must stand on its own merit.

If you’re a fan of Steve’s work, then you know that almost every car that comes out of Pure Vision’s rollup door has a theme to it (see Martini Mustang or the Black Ops Fairlane). When it came to the GTO, however, the client had a request that was in no way theme based. He instead, wanted the build to be focused on daily usability- a moderate but not over-the-top blend of performance and comfort.

“The customer wanted to take it out on date night and cruise around with his girlfriend, thus the goal was to get in it, turn the key. drive it, and enjoy it. So, the parts and pieces that were ordered for this car follow in line to that mindset,” says Steve.

Okay, so what does that actually mean?

For starters it means turning the dial down from 11, to a more moderate 8. This in no way means that any less attention was given to the GTO, but instead, there was a re-focus of ideas that culminated into what is perhaps the best driving ’71 GTO convertible in existence.

Upon arrival to the shop, the GTO was bugged-bombed, stripped of its parts, and a new chassis was ordered from Schwartz Performance. The unit came complete with an AGR steering rack built to Schwartz’s own specific valving, JRi shocks, and a torsional rigidity that’s 200% stiffer than a stock A-Body frame. Pure Vision then reinforced it further to quell any additional body flex that may have occurred due to the GTO’s convertible configuration. Out back, a full-floater 9-inch with a 3.50 or so rear gear helps with motivation. Stopping is accomplished via a Wilwood braking system that employs two-piece rotors with beefy 4-piston calipers up front and smaller 4-piston units in the rear. The chassis itself is a beautiful piece and serves as the perfect underpinning for a car of this caliber.

The body is standard ‘71 GTO, which in reality, was a facelift year for the car. Changes included a beautiful wire-mesh grille, dual-snorkel hood and a revised lower front fascia with round marker lights. There were other slight changes incorporated as well, but for you non-GTO buffs, those are the most prevalent. Dismantling any old car is an exercise in patience, and the GTO was no exception. During our conversations, Steve mentioned that preserving all the trim and interior pieces was extremely important due to the rarity of the car, and unlike many of his other builds, reusing those parts was integral, as he wanted to keep the integrity of the car intact.

Once apart, extreme care was paid to the exterior body panels in regards to getting them straight along with making sure that every seam and body line matched perfectly. At this time, the inner wheel tubs were increased by 1-inch on each side to accommodate a 305-series rear tire. This modification required caution, as ample room was still required to allow for the convertible top to retract into the rear cowl.

Based on renderings done in conjunction with Eric Brockmeyer Design, Steve and the GTO’s owner determined that the car was to be painted Celine Bronze, a color Steve first viewed while doing some in-person research at a local Aston Martin dealership. It was then sent to Mick Jenkins of Pomona, CA who made sure the final paint and body was flawless.

Thankfully, Steve also believes in the philosophy that bigger is not always better, and as such he was careful when choosing his wheel and tire package. HRE RS101 wheels with a clear powder coat and dark bronze centers were chosen in sizes 18×9-inch for the front and 19×11-inch in the rear. Tires come in the form of sticky Pirelli P-Zero’s in sizes 255/40R-18, front and 305/35R-19, rear. Running a staggered stance gives the car just enough rake to look sinister, with the upper lips residing just inside the fender wells. Not only does this make for a spot-on stance, but there’s an air of built-in aggression that works beautifully with the overall design.

From the start, the GTO was to be focused around drivability, which is why selecting the correct power plant was of the utmost importance. To achieve this, Steve took full advantage of the millions of dollars spent by General Motors on R&D, and opted for a supercharged LSA crate engine and a 4L80e 4-speed overdrive transmission. These two items, combined with the factory computer, harness, and ancillary items such as the intercooler, intercooler pump, and the air intake system, all insured that reliability would be a non-issue. Well-built and well-designed components rarely fail.

When asked what he thought about the hot rodders of today utilizing modern technology Steve mentioned something that rang very true, “Most of the time, the OEM plug-n-play stuff is better than our aftermarket stuff. Why? It’s not because we’re stupid, it’s because that stuff is built together as a unit and they have millions and millions of dollars of R&D, so taking advantage of that when it works for your project is a great thing. Guys have been taking stuff from junkyards, redoing it, and putting it back on the street since at least the 1920’s and 30’s. Hot rodders have been stealing from what the OEMs made to make their junk go faster and look better, and as such, we hot rodders are some of the first recyclers of automotive components.”

When you break it down, his train of thought makes perfect sense. What lives under the hood of this GTO is essentially what’s powering a 2015 Cadillac CTS-V Coupe, and that my friends, is a very good thing.

Looking inside the car, the first thing you notice is that much like the exterior, the cabin of the GTO is not overly complicated. Instead it represents a beautiful combination of materials and forethought that brings the physicality of the interior up to the standard of a modern luxury coupe. The stock dash for instance was removed and recovered with beautiful chocolate brown leather with contrasting white stitching. Black-faced VHX gauges from Dakota Digital were then installed to cope with the new engine harness. And then, by keeping and refinishing the original knobs and bezels, Steve managed to keep the dash’s overall feel authentic without being over the top.

While the dash is beautifully crafted, it will be the treatment given to the seats and door panels that will set this build apart. With decades of experience, the team over at Gabe’s procured some buttery soft leather to be used for the seating surfaces, along with a stylish mesh that I’ve yet to see utilized in another build. Walking up to this car, top down, is a feast for the eyes and the attention given here helps the GTO come together in a wonderfully cohesive package.

I looked over this car for the better part of eight hours, examining just about every part of it. However, it was when Steve asked me if I wanted to drive it that truly got me excited. Climb in, turn the key, and the GTO fires to life in the same fashion as any modern vehicle. There’s no pumping of the pedal, no fumes, and absolutely no drama. The original Pontiac shifter feels perfect in the hand and dropping the car into gear is as simple as pressing down on the PMD button and sliding the stick back a few clicks.

For comparison, stock GM convertibles from the late 1960s and early 70’s were awful. Yes, they provided an enjoyable driving experience, but good wow did they squeak, rattle and flex! With the GTO, there was none of that. Closing the door was met with a solid “THUNK” and once underway, there wasn’t a hint of a squeak or rattle. In fact, driving the GTO at speed had me forgetting about how terrible these things were from the factory. This partly comes down to the door linings, additional sound deadening materials and obtaining great door latches and strikers, not to mention the ultra-rigid chassis. In the end though it comes down to a theme of quality that can be seen throughout the car. From the builder, to the body and interior shops, to the detailed inspection of every part used before they’re installed, the attention to detail here is something others should use as a benchmark.

Here was a classic convertible that let you have a conversation without raising your voice. It is composed and planted with the on-road confidence of a modern performance vehicle. There was brute force power when you wanted it, loads of brake when you needed it, and luxury that made you feel as if you were driving anything but a 1971 GTO. If there was a downside, it was only that the Goat drove so damn good that it made you forget you were piloting one of the coolest things on the road.

In the end, I’ll say this – if you’ve got the means for your dream car, then talking to Steve Strope at Pure Vision Design wouldn’t be a bad idea as this reimagined GTO is one of the few customs that exceeded every one of my expectations.

The post Overbuilt: Pure Vision Design Builds a Better GTO appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

from Hot Rod Network https://www.hotrod.com/articles/overbuilt-pure-vision-design-builds-better-gto/ via IFTTT

[wilwywaylan]

Departures and arrivals

Fandom : Star Wars VII : The Force awakens / Star Wars VIII : The last jedi

Modern!AU, Poe & Ben (and Amidala is here), 1921 words

Totally based on my favourite trope, “Ben looks up to his grandmother and wants to follow in her steps”

Also on AO3 !

Poe stepped down the plane, happy to feel a solid ground beneath his feet. He liked flying - scratch that, he loved flying, more than anything else in the world - but there was a moment when you were happy to just walk on a tarmac, and not try to balance a who-knew-how-many-tons machine way, way above the ground.

Behind him, his dog jumped on the floor. He stopped just long enough for Poe to pat him on the head, then ran forwards. Poe didn't bother calling him back. He knew that BB-8 wouldn't run more than a few meters ahead of him. And the dog was like him ; after having been stuck in a cockpit for hours, he was very eager to stretch his legs. Poe followed him, taking his leasure time, enjoying the sun on his back. A gentle breeze started blowing, ruffling his hair just the right way. Behind him, someone wolf-whistled. Poe waved at him, and followed his dog inside the building, smiling all the way.

He stepped inside, enjoying the cool air after the warmth of the sun. The hall was mostly empty, just a few groups here and there, waiting for flying lessons, goods to retrieve, or a few short-distance flights. Good, he wouldn't have to hide in the office in the back, waiting for the place to be less crowded. Not that he didn't like people, he usually liked them very much and the more he was around, the merrier. But a man needed his alone time after work, especially after flying for five hours with no music.

After swinging by the office to confirm he had landed safely and grab something to drink, he went back outside, to take care of his plane and park it away. He was crossing the tarmac again, BB-8 bouncing on his heels, when he spotted a small group coming down another plane on another lane. This wasn't anything out of the ordinary. The small airport was used by quite a number of private planes, and it wasn't unusual to see vastly different people walk around, from sharp-dressed businessmen holding briefcases like they held the secret of the universe (or plans for very important weapons), to people already (or still) in vacation mood, wearing gaudy shirts, pareos and flower necklaces. Poe loved watching them, trying to imagine where they came from or were going, what was on their minds at this instant.

But people like these ones... he'd never, ever seen anyone remotely like them. Three of them were quite unremarkable, with dark clothes, elegant but rather simple. His eyes quickly slid over them to land on the other two. Leading the group was a small, older woman, dressed in a beautiful, complicated red dress. The heavy fabric was swishing around her and pooling at her feet, the large sleeves falling past her wrists, almost to her knees. The gold it was embroidered with was shining under the sun, sending little glints like a fistful of stars. She was wearing a dark cloak, closed around her throat by a large broach. Her hair was pinned in a complicated bun, by a dozen metallic hairpins fanning around her hair, like a halo. From them, a delicate circlet hung, going around her head to join at a crescent moon resting on her forehead. Her face was painted white, and ornated with several symetric marks in blood red.

She turned to say something to the one standing behind her. From what he could see, Poe thought that they might be related. The man had the same dark hair, but his was shorter, falling on his shoulders. Several golden chains were circling his head in the same way of the woman's hairpiece, and he was wearing the same crescent. His clothes resseambled hers too, falling to his feet. His opened at the belt, on a pair of pants and knee-high leather boots. The fabric was black instead of red, but similarly adorned with gold thread. Strangely, while the outfit was closed at the neck with a high collar, his shoulders were bare. He was wearing the same make-up as the woman, stricking red on white.

Poe watched them cross the tarmac. There was something about them, something that rang a very faraway bell. But he'd be darned if he could find what. Had he already seen them somewhere else ? Did he know them ? No. He would remember it, if he counted such elegant persons among his aquaintances. Then again...

Until they walked past him, and he could see the man's profile in greater detail. He knew that face, the long nose, the high cheekbones, and the dark brown eyes with their weird, intense stare. But last time he had seen him, the man was... well, not a man yet. Smaller than him, with short-ish hair reaching his ears. Too quickly grown-up, and scrawny too. Nothing to do with the tall, muscular man in beautiful garb. Before he could stop himself, Poe waved and yelled :

- Hey, Ben ! Hello !

The man didn't just stop walking, he *froze* in place. Foot hovering a few inches above the ground, arms bent at an awkward angle. Very slowly, he put his foot down, and turned to face him. He stared - glared - at him for a few seconds, then opened his mouth, probably to tell him to go fuck himself. But the lady besides him, who Poe now recognized as Ben's grandmother, was faster than him. She smiled at him, and held out her hand.

- Poe Dameron, it's been a while.

Poe took the offered hand, and bent down to kiss it. Dialing the charm up couldn't hurt him, right ? Especially with at least four people watching him like a bunch of black-dressed hawks.

- Mrs Amidala, he stated, it's always a pleasure.

She was a little smaller than in his memory, or was it he who had grown up ? Probably. Still, she had the same impressive presence that he remembered, and he felt oddly self-conscious under her gaze.

- And how are you ? she asked when he finally let go of her hand.

- Fine. I just got off my plane, and I was going to take care of it, when I saw you and decided to say hello.

Amidala wisely didn't adress that he called Ben across the tarmac and not her, and instead followed his gesture towards the small plane.

- Oh, you've become a pilot ?

Poe tried not to beam too much. He was very tempted to glance at Ben to see if he was admiring him too, or at least looking at him, but that would probably have blown in his face. He kept focused on Amidala, who was graciously admiring his craft.

- My, she said, you can be proud of yourself. I'm sure you're a fantastic pilot.

- The best, of course, ma'am, he answered with an exagereted drawl and a small bow. Would you like to witness by yourself ?

- I would love to, really. But sadly, we need to go.

- Well, he mock-sighed, I can take a raincheck on that one.

Amidala smiled politely. She walked back to her grandson, then turned back, as if forgetting something.

- Say, dear, why don't you come for a cup of tea, one of these days ? This way, you could tell us about piloting, and about this little guy here too.

BB-8 looked very pleased with the attention. Poe did his best to ignore his heart suddenly jumping.

- I would love to. Here, let me give you my number...

He patted his pockets, despite knowing perfectly well that they were totally devoid of any writing implement. One of Amidala's followers took pity on him, and with a theatrical eyeroll, handed him a pen and a piece of paper. Poe quickly scribbled his number. He went to hand it back to Amidala, noticed that she didn't seem to have any pockets to put it in, and gave it back to her advisor. Amidala watched him with a gentle smile.

- I hope we'll see you soon, she said when he was finally done.

- With pleasure, of course.

She bent down to pat BB-8's head, bid Poe goodbye, and left, followed by her suite. Poe watched them go, admiring their elegance and poise. He was ready to resume his work, when Ben glanced at him over his shoulder. Just a fraction of a second ; when he realized that Poe was still looking at him, he hastily turned back and hurried after his grandmother. The distance between them could be misleading, but were his cheeks a bit pinker ?

There was a poke against his leg, and Poe looked at the dog pressing himself against him. He bent down to pat him, and announced :

- Right, buddy. Why don't we get that plane sorted so that we can go home ?

BB-8 dashed towards the plane, and Poe followed. He was happy to have seen Amidala, of course, she always had a soft spot for him, since the day he met her daughter, in fact. Spending some time chatting with her would surely be very enjoyable. Even more enjoyable with Ben around. Not that he would say it out loud, of course. But a small part of him hoped that he would be there when Poe would be invited. That would be nice too, to see him, chat with him, maybe ? They had be friends, a long time ago, before The Great Fight No One Talked About. Before Ben disappeared from his life - and everyone's, really.

Of course, Poe didn't let himself harbour any illusions. That strange, tall man with his closed-off expression didn't have much in common with the Ben he had known and befriended. He was a different person, with different ideas. And Poe's idea of him had been marred beyond all hopes of repair by what had happened. But the small glance Ben had thrown him before leaving seemed to have a strange effect on him. Nothing strong, like he was used to when a man was looking at him. He hadn't been struck to the bone, breath catching in his throat. He hadn't felt the earth stop spining under his feet.

But it had sparked... a longing. A want. Poe wanted to know him. Wanted to learn to know him again. Wanted to discover everything that had changed in him, and what was still the same. Not dig too deep, to the reasons that made him as he was now, and certainly not to the reasons that made him leave all those years before. But start something new. He knew he couldn't go back in time and find his friend again. But there had been something in Ben's eye, that made him think that maybe, he could make a new friend. Start at square one and go from there. He knew Ben could not want, and push him away. There were probably several reasons why he wouldn't want to talk to him again. But, Poe thought while walking behind BB-8, there was no harm in trying, right ? Right. After all, fortune smiled to those who were daring, and Poe was nothing but daring. Fortune would not let him down. Whistling a little tune, he shoved his hands in his pockets and skipped along, keeping an ear out for his phone while he finally set himself to work.

[alicethruthelookingglass]

Abandoned Suitcases Reveal Private Lives of Insane Asylum Patients

If you were committed to a psychiatric institution, unsure if you’d ever return to the life you knew before, what would you take with you? That sobering question hovers like an apparition over each of the Willard Asylum suitcases. From the 1910s through the 1960s, many patients at the Willard Asylum for the Chronic Insane left suitcases behind when they passed away, with nobody to claim them. Upon the center’s closure in 1995, employees found hundreds of these time capsules stored in a locked attic. Working with the New York State Museum, former Willard staffers were able to preserve the hidden cache of luggage as part of the museum’s permanent collection.

“There were many patients in these asylums who were probably not unlike friends you and I have now.”

Photographer Jon Crispin has long been drawn to the ghostly remains of abandoned psychiatric institutions. After learning of the Willard suitcases, Crispin sought the museum’s permission to document each case and its contents. In 2011, Crispin completed a Kickstarter campaign to fund the first phase of the project, which he recently finished. (Crispin’s current Kickstarter campaign would help him to finish the project entirely.) Next spring, a selection of his photos will accompany the inaugural exhibit at the San Francisco Exploratorium’s new location.

Crispin’s photographs restore a bit of dignity to the individuals who spent their lives within Willard’s walls. Curiously, the identities of these patients are still concealed by the state of New York, denied even to living relatives. Each suitcase offers a glimpse into the life of a unique individual, living in an era when those with mental disorders and disabilities were not only stigmatized but also isolated from society. (All photos by Jon Crispin.)

Collectors Weekly: How did you come across this collection?

Jon Crispin: I’ve worked as a freelance photographer my whole life. In addition to doing work for clients, I’ve always kept my eye out for projects that interest me. In the ’80s, I came across some abandoned insane asylums in New York State, and thought, wow, I’d really like to get in these buildings and photograph them.

So I applied for a grant from the New York State Council on the Arts, got it, and spent a couple of years photographing the interiors and exteriors of these buildings. When the psychiatric programs moved out and shut things down, they basically just closed the doors and walked away. They left all kinds of amazing objects inside these buildings, including patient records in leather-bound volumes.

In the mid-’90s, I heard that at Willard—one of the asylums in which I spent a lot of time photographing—the employees had saved all the patient suitcases that belonged to people who came to Willard and died there. Starting around 1910, they never threw them out.

“I don’t really care if they were psychotic; I care that this woman did beautiful needlework.”

Craig Williams at the New York State Museum fights an ongoing battle to bring objects like these into the collection, and that’s what happened. Willard was being closed as a psych center and converted to a treatment facility for criminals with drug problems. So the New York State Museum received this collection of suitcases, and displayed a few of the cases in 2004. I asked Craig if I could photograph these things, and he said, “Go right ahead.”

Collectors Weekly: Why do you think the suitcases survived so well?

Crispin: Willard is this tiny town where multiple generations of people worked in the asylum, like a father would work there and then his daughter would be a nurse there, and so on. I have a theory that the relationship between the patients and the staff was so close, that the staff couldn’t just throw these possessions away when they died. There’s a cemetery on the grounds, and most of these patients were buried right there. And they kept storing their suitcases and moving them around as certain buildings were closed. Then, of course, with de-institutionalization huge numbers of patients were basically turned out onto the street.

Collectors Weekly: Why were the suitcases left untouched for so long?

Crispin: Willard was a facility for people with chronic mental illness. Originally, doctors thought that all you had to do was remove people from the stresses and strains of society, give them a couple of years to get their life together, and they’d get better. Eventually people realized they needed facilities where patients could come and never leave. There’s some question as to whether or not the patients themselves packed their suitcases, or if their families did it for them. But the suitcases sent along with them generally contained whatever the incoming patient wanted or thought they might need.

Collectors Weekly: What makes you think the patients had access to their suitcases after they arrived?

Crispin: There were many levels of mental illness in these places. Some people were in really bad shape, and sometimes had to be restrained, completely unable to function in any kind of society or environment. Those people probably did not have access to their suitcases.

“It wasn’t some hellhole where people were chained to the walls.”

But a large number of people at the asylum were ambulatory. They were out and about; they worked at the farm; they did artwork. Some of these places even had their own dance bands. The Utica State Hospital had a literary journal. There were many patients in these asylums who were probably not unlike friends you and I have now. The reasons why people were put in these facilities ranged from everything to serious psychoses and delusions to people who couldn’t get over the death of a parent or a spouse. Other people were institutionalized just because they were gay.

Initially, my idea was to pair the suitcase photographs with some indication of why these people were in Willard. As the project evolved, I found I wasn’t that interested in such a literal connection. The suitcases themselves tell me everything I want to know about these people. I don’t really care if they were psychotic; I care that this woman did beautiful needlework. I’m much more interested in the objects themselves and what people thought was important to have with them when they were sent away.

Some people at Willard definitely had access to the things they brought with them. For example, one case was filled with what look to be leather-working tools, and it’s pretty clear that this person used those tools because these facilities had time allotted for arts and crafts. The suitcases also contain lots of letters received by people while living at Willard, and there were lots of letters that were written at the asylum but never mailed. There were also examples of things written by people who were obsessive-compulsive, like the guy who wrote down the name of every railroad station in the United States on page after page of his notebooks.

Collectors Weekly: Can each suitcase be traced to an individual patient?

Crispin: I have access to all the names, and New York State has the medical records for anyone admitted to these hospitals since the 1850s, so their histories are well-documented. I would like to use their full names in the photographs, but because of the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act (HIPAA), the laws about medical records and privacy, there’s some question as to whether or not I could be vulnerable to a lawsuit by the state.

Here’s a weird story: When I do the shooting, my digital photographs are labeled with what’s called IPTC information. It’s all the camera metadata stored with each photo, and you can add whatever you want. I typically add my copyright information, and also the names of the Willard patients for my own records. But when I upload photos to my blog, I strip that out.

For one person’s suitcase, I forgot to delete their name. Two days later, I got a call from someone who’s desperate, saying, “Do you have the objects of —?” and she gave the name of the person. And she said, “That is my grandmother. We didn’t know anything about her.” She had Googled her grandmother’s name and came across the Willard suitcases on my site. But even in this situation, the woman had to prove to the state that she was not only the granddaughter of this person, but that she was legally the recipient of her estate. So, in other words, if the grandmother had willed her estate to the other side of the family, this woman would not have been able to get access to her things.

I’m still trying to figure out how I can name these people, because I think it dehumanizes them even more not to. People who’ve been in mental institutions themselves have said, “Your project is very moving to me, but I’m very disappointed that you have to obscure names.” I think the stigma of mental illness has evolved from something shameful to something that’s much more medical and much more accepted. It just happens to people. But I’ve been very careful at this point in obscuring names, because there are many documents within the cases with names on them. I’m not showing their medical records; I’m only talking about the fact that they lived at Willard.

Collectors Weekly: Why weren’t these suitcases returned to family members when these people died?

Crispin: They tried, and again, the issue had to do with HIPAA laws. Contacting people with the information that their suitcases were in possession of the state was complicated by HIPAA. But the other problem was that a good number of these people were basically abandoned by their families, and their relatives showed very little interest in receiving their things after they died.

Collectors Weekly: What was the process like to shoot the suitcases?

Crispin: Well, when I originally shot the asylums, I would walk into a building or into a room, and I wouldn’t move anything. I prefer being honest in documenting what was already there. But in this situation, you might have a suitcase filled with 30 individually wrapped items that I had to unwrap and position.

The museum had three interns go through every case to catalog the contents and preserve them, essentially taking things that were floating around loose inside the cases, wrapping them, documenting them, and then put them back in the cases. So when I open a case, I’m also recording the way the museum did this, unwrapping the items, photographing them, and then putting it all back.

It’s a little hard for me because I don’t like to spend a lot of time laying things out, so I basically try to put the objects in a situation that looks as natural as possible. Especially hard were the suitcases filled with clothing. I’m not one of those studio guys who loves to set stuff up and get the lights perfect; I would’ve preferred opening up the case and photographing the inside exactly as I saw it, but that wasn’t possible.

There are still empty cases that I haven’t photographed, but even those are interesting to me just as suitcases, and there’s a whole group of people that love old suitcases. I think one of the reasons the project has been so successful is because it appeals to people in very different areas. It appeals to people who had family members in psych centers or who worked in psych centers or who are interested in old Greek-revival architecture. I was posting a lot on my blog, and I got messages from people interested in fabric or needlepoint and ephemera like toothpaste tubes and stuff from the ’20s and ’30s that doesn’t exist anymore.

Collectors Weekly: Was there any single suitcase that stuck with you?

Crispin: One of the last cases I shot was from a guy named Frank who was in the military. His story was particularly sad. He was a black man, and I later found out he was gay. He was eating in a diner and felt that the waiter or waitress disrespected him, and he just went nuts. He completely melted down, smashed some plates, and got arrested. His objects were particularly touching because he had a lot of photo booth pictures of himself and his friends. Frank looks very dapper, and there are all these beautiful women from the ’30s and ’40s in his little photo booth pictures. That really affected me.

Dmytre’s suitcase is another that I really like, it’s the last case I did. Dmytre was very moving. He was Ukrainian and clearly brilliant. He had notebooks filled with drawings of sine waves and mathematical things like that. There’s a wedding picture of Dmytre and his wife, and she’s holding a bouquet of fake flowers, which were also in the case.

Dmytre was interesting because he got arrested by the Secret Service because he went to Washington, D.C. and said that he was actually married to President Truman’s daughter, Margaret Truman. And what’s great is there’s a little Washington monument thermometer in the case, so clearly he bought a little tchotchke on his trip to D.C. and then later got arrested for saying that he was Margaret Truman’s husband.

Obviously, some of the cases were a lot more mundane than others. There was one that had syringes in it that were so beautiful and old, and small drug packets with pills still in them. There were combs, books, bibles, clocks, and an incredible Westclox Big Ben alarm clock in its original box that’s unbelievably pristine.

There was lots of expensive stuff, like perfume bottles from Paris that were worth tons of money. People wonder, how is it that a woman who’s committed to Willard has a bottle of perfume, which even at the time was super expensive? Mental illness doesn’t target any one particular group of people; it takes all kinds.

Collectors Weekly: Did stories often emerge from the objects you found inside each case?

Crispin: You could tell a lot about a person by what was in their case. One of the most touching letters I read was written to a woman who had been in another asylum and then released and finally sent to Willard. There was a letter from her sister, saying, “You could come back to Erie, but I don’t want you living in the YMCA because they’re still really upset with you for trying to stab that girl.” That one letter tells you a ton about what this woman’s life was like.

But every case was different; I was constantly blown away. It was very important to me not to carelessly rifle through these things and forget that they were somebody’s personal belongings. And I really have a lot of respect for these people as well as the nurses and doctors who worked at the facility. I came away from all of this and the asylum work I did in the ’80s thinking that the state was actually trying to help people. It wasn’t some hellhole where people were chained to the walls. They tried to help, and I think it’s important to keep that in mind.

While I was reverent, I tried not to be overly serious. I actually laughed a lot. If you’re ever around people in psych centers or even psychiatrists and nurses, a lot of their experiences are funny. Some of the items were amusing, but some made your heart ache, and others made you go, holy shit, what is this about? I was constantly affected by the items, and that’s my goal with photographs.

[handmadecp]

U.S.A. Bound: Leather Pouch

Hi Guys, welcome back to Beginners Journey into Leather craft here at HandmadeCP. this weeks project pics for all those newbies out there or anyone joining us for the first time, is a project that is a little bit more advanced..enough to feel you are moving ahead with your skill level, yet still within the reach of a relative ‘Newby’. I had my first International sales this weekend lol..I am buzzing, for those new to my blog, I only began myself 22 months ago. I sold one pouch and got an order for another one and thought it would make a good build along, so hope you enjoy.

The internal measurements are 6″ Length x 4″ Depth x 1.5″ Back to front. You can make these as big or as small as you want to. In my archive you can find one that is a smaller version.

Firstly I made a ‘form’ and a ‘press’ to help shape the leather. Scraps will do as long as they are strong enough to be put under some pressure by clamps without breaking.

I used my small band saw to cut the press out of an old piece of kitchen worktop, you can use hand tools, just be a little bit slower. Try to get a nice smooth curve to the edges, the smoother this is,,the smoother the curve on your pouch.

Make sure you leave sufficient gap for the thickness of leather you are using between the form and the press, you don’t need the handle on top but the open end needs a piece across it to close it off. Then you will need a piece of leather sufficient to cover the form and enough round the edges to mold it to the shape but still enough to cut the ‘darts’ out. (will explain darts as we go along).

I took the leather and soaked it, I’ve heard people say you should soak it for any where from a few minutes to half hour to an hour. The rule I follow is that when the bubbles stop coming out of it it’s full of water which is usually a few minutes and I have had great results doing it that way, then I towel of the excess and place it over the Form as shown in next pic’.

Most of the excess will be cut off, It won’t be wasted, I make wrist bands from the larger pieces. next I trim the.....

Leather but leave enough to create the edge. I molded the leather over the form, pressing it in as shown to sort of ‘show’ the leather what shape you want. Notice as it’s pressed down there are raised areas taking shape, these are areas that will not press to shape as there is too much material. So, we cut ‘Darts’. Also, note the staples either side these are to hold it in place whilst you shape it round the form.

Darts are arrow head cuts made into the areas that are raised  to remove some material and allow for the material to move when molded to the form. Be careful not to cut too close to the pouch shape, I left about a centimeter or slightly more around the pouch shape for putting the stitching. Once I had the material generally going to the shape I wanted I put the press over it.

Notice sticking out the shapes cut out of the leather to help with the shaping. As the press is pushed down over the form it pushes the leather to the shape required, but go slowly as you tighten the clamps..keep checking in between that the leather is flat and not bunched up...bunching is not good. Notice the anvils on top..the edge curves slightly as the leather is pushed down and it lifts at the front, the curve actually becomes a feature but the anvils will hold it flat till it dries a bit and stays down but don’t leave it on the whole drying time. Once the clamps are as far as they can go place it somewhere for about 24 hours to begin drying.

Whilst it was drying I started on the back piece, Cut out a piece larger than you need, again, the off cuts can be used for other things so there is little waste.I used an already made pouch front , placed it on and drew around 3 sides then I drew two straight lines along the sides and one across the bottom line,..to straighten them but also to help me to draw the curve for the top flap using a plate as shown and the curves for the corners of the pouch..which I achieved by placing a ‘form’ and drawing the curves onto the back piece as seen.

This pouch has a detachable belt loop, attached with x4 heavy duty antique brass snap studs ‘line 24′. I used a template made earlier, cut out the shape, wet it, scored a couple of decorative lines and stamped a Deer head motif, I ‘edged’ the four sides, then I wet it a little more and placed it over my belt as shown in next pic.

The heavy weights allow the wet leather to form over the belt creating a raised section when it dries. I then took the pouch shape (now 24 hrs later) out of the press, it is still wet at this point and should be left until completely dry, usually in a warm place, do not used directed heat as it will become brittle.

I placed the upturned studs into place before punching holes and setting them..which was only done ‘AFTER’ dying everything so that dye doesn’t drain through the holes and ruin the nice clean interior.

Next I turned it over and scribed a decorative line around the flap edge as shown and pre - marked the hole areas, don’t make the holes yet or dye will leak through.

I then dyed the 3 sections using a medium brown water stain dye by Eco-Flo, being extremely careful not to get any on the underside as this can ruin the look. the belt loop can be dyed on both sides. Don’t worry yet about dying the sides yet as you may need to do some sanding on the machine later (or by hand ).

I then gave the pieces a first buff to shine a bit, marked the placement holes for the latch and the snap studs, punched all the holes I needed and fitted all the snap studs for the belt loop and riveted the latch on. Next I used a contact cement glue around the edge of the front piece as shown and around the pen lines on the back piece

For the edges I dampened them and Burnished with a piece of canvas cloth.

The front section was then glued carefully into place making sure it went where I wanted it as the cement glue sticks fast.

I then cut out a plain insert piece and sanded the edge smooth and even all around and used the edger to round it off all then used a damp sponge and a piece of canvas cloth to Burnish the edges. The insert was fitted for size but not stitched in as it is remove able. Then I polished everything again and punched the stitch holes all round then  stitched using a saddle stitch with yellow wax thread, I also stitched a decorative stitch line on either end of the belt loop. I fixed the dye using fiebings leather sheen and a leather balm with atom wax to treat the leather and add some water resistance. Finally I decided to add a coat of Oz Coat wax for further water resistance...not strictly necessary but hey..I figured why not.. Finally I dampened the inside of the leather along where the flap would bend then I closed it and latched it then left it to dry so that when it was dry and I open it..it will keep a pouch flap shape rather than stay straight. I found this a nice project to do, Nothing majorly complicated and suitable for someone that has learned a few things already. If you are a complete newbie but want to give it a go..just go slow, maybe use a less expensive piece of leather for now in-case of major mistakes..such as a Veg belly..which is usually not too expensive, If I have learned anything in the past 22 months and could give one good piece of advice I would say..don’t buy expensive tools and leather whilst learning your techniques..keep it cheap until you gain your confidence. As the title today says..U.S.A Bound, This pouch is now packed up and ready for posting to the U.S.A and a week from now it will be heading for a new life in America..I am blown away as to how far I have come , If anybody had told me 22 months ago when I couldn’t put stitches in straight ..that I would be selling my items Internationally I would have laughed, but here I am...so could you be, give it a go, you never know, don’t let failures get you down and a few months from now you might be doing the same yourself. Thank you to all who follow my blog I hope some of you get something out of it, I do it to entertain and to hopefully encourage others to give it a go. best wishes, I hope you enjoyed this project, more to come, till then watch this space and stay Crafty.