#dim kassia

[athenaroseannatse]

Dragon’s back from her make over!!! Her new face up is taking her back to her character from 8, 9 years ago when I first got her (got this really serious look and personality LOL). And the silver on her face up goes much better with the new dragon horns I got for her. I’m really excited about taking her to some other places for outdoor photoshoots in summer!!!

Face up by @culur-faceups

[unicorndustbjd]

Am I seeing things, or is Dollzone Doreen a dead ringer for Doll in Mind Kassia?

I have Kassia as the 1/3 version of my character, Trinity. I had a floating Doll Leaves Pepper head that wasn't selling, so I decided to keep her and turn her into 1/4 Trinity. Originally I hadn't intended to create Trinity in this size, but I had the head, which was cute enough and I liked the idea of another girl doll anyway.

But I discovered Doreen a few days ago and...wow. She's BEAUTIFUL. She reminds me so much of Trinity, it's crazy. I wonder if she would fit on a Maskcat 42cm body?

I'm hesitant though. I know Dollzone is notorious for suuuuper long wait times, not to mention I had a lot of trouble selling my Pepper head without an extreme price cut. I'd love to do a trade, but it doesn't seem Doreen is all too popular, I doubt I'd find anyone willing to give her up!

[littleashthings]

The new unboxing video is live on YouTube! I can't wait to paint these gorgeous girls. #creativemending #creative #mending #youtube #channel #blogger #video #bjd #dim #kassia #new #arrival #bjd #laia #unboxing #doll #personal

[bjd-resinrome]

Little Red Riding Hood I'd like to hold you if I could da cyranka

[lyneispinkfish]

Ms Dragon <3 par Athena Roseanna Tse Via Flickr : Trying out a more dreamy tone of photos :D

[sandsparklingkas]

kassia couldn't help herself.

she saw the flyers adorning every bar wall, lonely telephone pole and post box she had encountered along the boardwalk for weeks before - blues night at larry's featuring PERIDOT and the riders. new-ish to town and having sunk her teeth firmly in the beach scene surrounding her apartment, she found herself wistful with thoughts of otis and wilson, not quite sure what to expect from los angeles' brand of swing and sway. and although hollywood was a bit out of the way for her, she braved the traffic from santa monica in the comfort of her van, olivia - more companion than vehicle by now, all memories of flat tires in the middle of cross-country treks and chipped coral paint.

hair steadily growing around her with the humidity, kassia shuffled in among the last of the crowd. her platform clogs made it just a bit easier to snake around bodies all packed into the too-small space like a dirty fire hazard. she kept as close to the edge of the madness as she could and used a hand to guide her along the sticky surface of the bar as the lights dimmed. one by one, band members filtered onto the stage. her smaller frame seemed to catch the pull of everyone around her taking two steps forward, girls crushing themselves against the stage for the promise of a closer look. hot air hovered over them all oppressively. she could swear a force anchored her to the wood floor, tacky beneath her soles as toned arms worked to haul her up onto the bar for a seat, and no one protested. not a single drink was being poured anyhow, not as he sauntered up.

almost instantly, hushed chatter turned to screams at attention and the previously gentle hum of energy pulsated to become palpably electric. calloused hands clapped, plush lips whistled. kassia peered around the room in surprised interest, a smile blooming at the change in vibe. she leaned back on her palms and the rest of the room fell away as she zeroed in on the performance ready to take place and leaf, as some excited fan had called out, unfolded in front of them all in an almost lazy way, a smooth character, she thought. she rolled her shoulders, sweat collecting at the back of her neck while the audience grew hungrier for something kassia had yet to taste. all around her seemed to hone in on the most minute of the frontman's movements, all swagger and nonchalance with a cigarette to his lips. she found herself melting into a sway as a steady bassline came filtering through speakers, thickening the air of the venue.

and then he opened his mouth to sing.

the bodies around kassia swayed with her, backs and shoulders brushing her knees atop the bar, all squeezed into the small space like a writhing mess of snakes, many but one. she watched the control leaf had over the crowd, voice a separate entity spilling out of him and enchanting the audience in waves - from those close enough to grasp at him, unashamed at the foot of the stage, to the bartender maneuvering himself around her hair for a better view. and she could get used to that thing that came out of him, not just song, but the muddy aura in the part he played that had the girls clawing at the heels of his boots.

hands came above her head with applause as their first song of the night ended, and then one song became two, and another, and the night stretched ahead of her like a haze characterized by the plucking of strings, the tapping of feet, and the syrup in that voice. she wouldn't forget it.

SUMMER OF 1967 —  BLUES NIGHT AT LARRY’S ON THE SUNSET STRIP the stage was hot with anticipation, artificial light, and all the previous bodies and their warm ghosts. for one night and one night only you could breathe in the air the poet expelled without being barred off by broad-bodied security. this would be the last of the band’s small-venue shows for a long, long time and you had to be there for it. it was blues night and peridot were situated right in the middle of the bill following another los angeles-based band that too was on the come up called ‘the riders’ but not even half the crowd were for them. peridot were back—larry’s house band for a greater portion of the year ‘66—and they were receiving a welcome most warm: rows and rows of people, the doors held open by eager hands and heads piled on top of one another to snag a glimpse of the show from the streets. man, what a turn out. between sets, other well-known blues tunes bled through the loudspeaker and lulled the chatter to a static hum. if you weren’t already smoking your own cigarette you were caught on the wave of inhaling nicotine by contact and contradictingly both on edge and completely relaxed. smoke coasted along the floor in soft, superfluous clouds. you could barely see the bands through the thick of it. in the middle of the stage stood the mic stand like a lone, holy ornament and young women, hoping to get as close to the band as possible, moulded themselves to the stage’s perimeter and whispered amongst themselves, wondering whether they could see silhouettes moving in the shadows of the stage’s sidelines or not, and then the band came out one by one.

after a sharp wolf whistle and the crescendo of a growing, roaring applause, every pair of eyes in the building locked on the stage and stuck there as if glued. some folks jumped up and down.

the guitarist came out first and he ducked his head in meek acknowledgement of the crowd and the likely familiar faces, simultaneously lifting his guitar strap over his neck and fixing his fingers to the fretboard where he’d pluck a few strings and toe the pedals to get the right kind of bluesy sound. the drummer came out next, as stoic as ever, wielding his drum sticks and taking his drum-seat behind his drum set. richard, their organ player and mastermind behind the whole situation, dressed the part, dignifiedly and wearing a face that looked more than happy to be there in the midst of his divine creation. closely after him followed their good friend chuck serving as their bass player for the night and very glad for it, and so began their liquid, slow and syrupy ode to muddy waters and his 1956 hit ‘rock me’. the band rolled into its sound as if searching for its rhythm, encouraging it out of their fingers and pushing out what was once dormant, breathing into it new life and keeping it alive.

with the impending revelation of the band’s final member, their vocalist as of ‘65 who unraveled in a way no one saw coming but richard—from a poor, orphan kid writing scripts for theatres to a singing, siren-like and worshipped dionysus—the crowd grew restless and the band coordinately bought him time. he relished that pregnant swell of anticipation and they knew it. it got him high. when he emerged at last, from the dark and mysterious realm of stage left in his blue-jean jacket, matching blue jeans and cowboy boots, a look he wore on the cover of their first album which now seemed a symbol of his character, the whistling and cheers grew in intensity. “i love you leaf!” shouted someone who loved him. the bartender ceased his tending. mouths were wet with drool. in the way he lit a cigarette, smoked it and lazily assessed the crowd in his slow, easy meander from one end of the stage to the next it was clear that we were in his world now and lucky enough to be living in it. behind him ensued a musical dialogue between joe’s guitar and richard’s keys in a harmonious give and take, open for their singer’s added two cents while he took his time, whether he was drunk, sober or just intoxicated enough to not care about what anyone thought. after a long, preparational drag that shoved black into his lungs, he ashed the cigarette out in front of the drum kit, approached the microphone and stepped into the song languidly and with no tension save for the soul coursing hot throughout his innards and crawling up his throat for its great escape. his voice came out smooth yet gravely as if forced out of his chest. it was whiskey in auditory form.

want you to rock me baby,

rock me alllllllllll night long… want you to rock me pretty mama, rock me alllllllllll night long…yeah want you to rock me little darlin’, ‘til iiiiiiiiiii sing my song…alright!

there he was. richard maintained his same, proud smile as his fingers tickled the keys, ringing out a sound like true and uncertain laughter beneath unhinged vocals as the bass pushed them forward and the drummer’s persistent boom-click-clash kept everyone in line. the performance was raw with the kind of honesty the blues demanded. leaf’s words seemed to cling to his breath as if taboo, like they shouldn’t, and yet they poured out of his mouth like they had to. 

you gotta rock me little darlin’, 

’til we’re satisfied…

let’s rock a little while.

that breathy spell summoned a good and long instrumental break and their bassist welcomed it, fingers climbing the bass guitar’s neck in a groove that demanded you lean into. the poet’s eyes, glazed and sunken, captured whichever beautiful faces he could out in the vast, dark sea of peeled-open eyes and he wanted to get closer and so he did; he made for the edge of the stage where he could be touched and where most that could were too scared to, where one bravely touched his pants and another, his boot. he crouched down to breathe them all in and they reeked of cheap cigarettes and even cheaper beer, young arousal and all in all, fertility. he stooped before one particular girl who reminded him of his lady back home  and who had been rather vocal throughout the performance along with her friend. wanting to know what she really had to say, he extended the microphone cradled in his loose hold out in front of her mouth and he watched her curl into herself with timidity like a flower fearing the consequences of blooming. leaf only smiled at her, a quiet, small, curious kind of smile that read her as if she had just unfolded like a book and let him peek into the library of her psyche. the suddenly shy girl nestled into the safety blanket beside her that was her friend’s laughter, bewilderment and the delayed sense of reality they shared. oh well.

with a swoop of his wrist he was back up and the microphone returned to the mouth of its rightful owner. he reeled in some of that loose cord and wrapped it around his forearm in time for the hook. still, he held the crowd in a hazy enchantment with every step he took while strangers held onto each other and another, braver stranger shouted ‘rock me’ as if to get him to say it. “come on!” they said. there was a sudden silence, a dangerous sense of intimacy established as the singer returned center stage, vulnerability as he hushed the crowd and eased them into his crawling outro. the band, together, made individual noises with their instruments as if trying to regain control and find themselves but not quite being able to get there.

yeeeeah i’m glad you waited for me ‘cause i think i’m…

yeeeeah i’m catchin’ on.

after a final little guitar lick, after the warm, dim lights dimmed down even further and the audience roared for another song, the summer of ‘67 marked the last time peridot would ever play at larry’s bar on the sunset strip and folks were left shaking, hungry, their anticipation never truly sated and their bodies humming with the familiarity of unleashed and imminent potential. come fall, the band would find themselves on television screens across america. 

[unrequitedmime]

Kassia does not even hide her hiccup of surprise as he enters the room. I spare less than a second to shoot her a disdained glance, but her eyes are on the figure in the red cloak.  His presence is something powerful, and the superiority fills every corner of this dark room. His face is shrouded by shadows, but if I stare hard enough I can see a few loose strands of blonde. I don't stare hard enough. I barely look at him.  Instead I study his entourage. Three figures in red cloaks spreading out behind him. Upon first inspection their coats seem identical to their leader's, but somehow they are not. His is deeper, more like blood. His is richer.  Despite being bred from birth to hate that colour, I cannot help the flare of admiration in my blood.  Red truly is a beautiful colour.  Rone shifts slightly to my right, and I know that he is tightening his grip on the axe hidden beneath the folds of his midnight black cloak.  Callus is deadly still beside Rone, his rainforest green eyes almost pinning the red figure in his place.  Silence settles. I do not move.  I removed my hood before the Kiditri's entered, so they are free to stare at my bare face. Sun freckled skin, long sweeping lashes, high cheekbones, pursed lips, and green eyes that pierce. My raven black hair hangs in a long braid down my back, losing itself in the darkness of my draping cloak. Many loose strands tickle the sides of my cheeks and the tips of my jaw.  Let them know that the head of the Loppona tribe is a 17 year old girl. The figure in red slowly lifts his hands to the hood of his cloak, and I try my best not to roll my eyes at the dramatics of it all. I am not one for dramatics and manipulation. I am one for fists and blood. My fingers grasp my bow tighter.  'Young,' Kassia whispers to my mind as she studies the hands of the Kiditri leader. My own eyes flicker to his fingers. Sun tanned, callused, and young.  He folds back the hood of his cloak.  'Holy shit,' Rone breathes to the cavern of mine and Kassia's minds, 'He's...'  'Young,' I finish.  'Beautiful,' Kassie whispers.  There is nothing but silence for a long time.  I know that the man is whispering to the minds of his entourage as I am to my own.   I was right. Blonde hair. Bright beach blond strands that have a tendency to spike over his forehead as if they are ready to strike. Golden skin, although I am not sure where he finds the warmth of sun in the darkness of the Kiditri Forests. 19 years of age. A deadly smooth expression, not one crinkle or emotion to be seen on him, and eyes a colour that I cannot even define. Brown? Hazel? Orange? Gold? Bronze?  He is a blank canvas. Something empty. Something broken. Something without the colour of emotions.  "Assaia of the Loppona tribe," He purrs, his voice smooth and rough at the same time. His smile dances with frost and the yearning for blood, "How lovely it is to meet you."  'He is a manipulator,' Kassia breathes to my mind, 'Careful.'  I do not bother responding to her. I study the man for as long as I please, taking my time to observe him. I do not look away from the shine of his eyes, or the careful pull of his mouth. I repeat his words in my head, mimicking the deceitful tone and pronunciation.  He seems to be a leader of manipulation.  And then my eyes catch sight of the position of his feet. One in front of the other, knees bent ever so slightly. My eyes trail along the careful and strategic grip he has on his staff. Loose in the fingers but firm in the wrist.  'No,' I whisper back to Kassia, 'He is a fighter.'  "I don't recall your name," I reply, voice smooth and careless and everything that Kassia wanted it to be.  I feel her whisper of approval tickle my mind.  "Lorin," He replies, "Lorin of-"  "-the Kiditri People," I finish dismissively, "I know."  Lorin does not react like I expect him to. He only looks me up and down very slowly before pursing his lips in disdain. He is not impressed with what he sees, and he wants me to know it.  "I find it interesting," He says finally, "That the Loppona Tribe expects a 17 year old girl to lead and protect them. Aren't most 17 year old girls busy chasing boys?" His bronze eyes flicker over to Callus, and I know that he can sense the connection between us. Between our hearts. Callus stares back ruthlessly.  "Aren't most 19 year old boys stroking their lengths to thoughts of 17 year old girls?" Rone does not hide his shocked cough. He does not hide the way it dissolves into a laugh.  'Sai,' Kassia snaps to my mind, 'Grow up.'  Lorin's expression darkens so fast that it seems to dim the already shadowed room. He becomes something threatening and deadly calm all at once.   "I suppose most do," He admits smoothly, "But trust me when I say that I will not be stroking anything to the thought of any 17 year old girl. They are not woman enough."  I feel the insult like a thousand needle pricks across my skin. I hear  the echo of my mother's voice in his.  "I am plenty woman."  A cruel glint in his eyes, "You assume I was referring to you, but I was not. How devilish of you to be offended that I do not want to fuck you, Miss Assaia. Your lover boy must be bristling."  I do not glance over at Callus. Only stare at Lorin.  Prick. Stupid fucking prick- "If we are done with the child's play," Kassia says smoothly, voice cold  and smooth and unrecognisable, "Perhaps we can discuss more important matters."  "Yes," A dark skinned man behind Lorin nods in agreement. Lorin glances back at him for one moment, and in that second of shared gazes I know immediately that he is to Lorin what Kassia is to me.  A best friend.  "The deadwalkers."  Lorin jolts and spins back to stare at Kassia. She does not look away from him, blue eyes bright and chin raised.  "The deadwalkers?" He repeats, "They are a myth."  "Wrong," Rone drones, "They're real, pretty boy, and they're killing both of our people."  Lorin ignores the nickname and instead shakes his head, "Deadwalkers are a tale told to keep young children in their beds at night. They are not real."  "Oh," Rone quips sarcastically, "You must be right, pretty boy. It must  be the wild dogs that are leaving corpses to lay across the border without their souls and eyes."  "Do not talk to him like that," An Asian girl with a black pixie cut snarls at Rone, taking a step towards him.  I instinctively take a step towards her, my glare sharp enough to make a dog whimper.  "He will talk how he pleases," I growl. Tense silence.  The girl stares at me for a long time before slowly stepping back into her place. It takes a few minutes for the fire to calm inside my chest, and during those minutes Kassia gives her report of the bodies we have found. As she talks, Lorin studies me very carefully, most likely analysing my reaction to the threat in that girl's voice. I do not think he is even listening to Kassia's words.  "If the bodies  are being left on your side of the border, then it is not our problem," The dark skinned man cuts Kassia off.  "We agreed," I respond, "Which is why we have handled it on our own for the past two months, but in the past two weeks we have found three Kiditri bodies on our side."  "The Kiditri met their ends in a way worse than our own people. Despite the feud, this problem is now both of ours." Callus finally speaks, voice deep and clear. I feel it sweep through me and wipe away all of the nerves riddling my body.  "The Deadwalkers are real," Kassia finishes, "And they are killing both our people."  Lorin does not move, does not breathe.  We wait. We have done all we can. Displayed the problem, offered the planks. It is up to them to build the bridge connecting us.  "I will not sacrifice the safety of my people and line myself with you to fight a threat that does not exist," Lorin announces finally, and I feel something in me begin to crumble, "The bodies are left on your side of the border. The murderer is of your blood, not ours. Solve the problem before the dogs kill any more of my people or I will reign terror across your tribe."  And then they head to the door. "Wait!" Kassia calls desperately, racing towards them.  The Asian girl spins and points the dagger at Kassia's neck so fast that my best friend barely stops before it impales her.  "Stay the fuck away from us," The girl snarls.  I do not realise I have shot the arrow until it slices the skin on the side of the girl's neck. She hisses in pain and covers the gushing cut, staring at  me in shock.  Lorin and his entourage freeze and watch the blood ooze down the girl's neck. Lorin, in the doorway, stares coolly at me as I lower the bow and arrow.  I stare at the girl. "If you threaten my entourage one more time I will shoot an arrow through your fucking eye."  The rage fills her eyes fast, and she takes a slow step towards Kassia.  "Etta," Lorin says levelly, eyes hard as he stares at her, "Grow up. He glances back at me for less than a moment before he disappears into the night. We are left in the silence.  "Fuck," Kassia almost sobs.  "What do we do now?" Rone breathes, voice shaking slightly.  "We wait," Callus responds.

unrequited 

[damasquerade]

My Kassia is here already from Doll in Mind :O Ordered her on a Wednesday night, and she arrived in Australia from Korea on Monday morning. 

She has much less defined fangs than my Doll in Mind Marcellina, they almost look ‘blurry’. Her philtrum, the depression in her upper lip, is a lot deeper than I realised, and she has a bit of a dimple in her chin on the left. Wonder if it’d be bad to try to mod the upper lip and the chin...

I’m not sure what I want to do with her, other than give her massive horns and a soft, pretty faceup. A lot of Kassias have kind of fierce, dark faceups but I’d like mine to be a bit lighter and delicate... But after that lightning-fast turnaround I’m tempted to order another sculpt before they’re gone... >.<

[littleashthings]

Super excited to get these girls in and go all out on their characters #creativemending #doll #bjd #custom #mine #personal #pretty #gorgeous #love #dolls #toystagram #grownchild #dim #sell #new #order #product #kassia #laia #goodnight

[unicorndustbjd]

I had really hoped to get a new photo of Fyedka to share for the most recent Rainbow of Orientation Day, but it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen. Still, this day is too important to me not to participate (even if I am late).

This is Fyedka! He’s ace, and not-so proud about it.

Fyedka is married to Princess Trinity (my DiM Kassia). A purely political marriage, they have no romantic feelings for one another, although they are very close friends beneath their constant squabbling. 

Fyedka is also in a romantic relationship with Basil (my Little Monica Kliff). Basil is NOT ace, yet they are in a monogamous relationship. Before Fyedka, Basil had never had an ace partner before, yet his love for Fyedka is more important to him than his sexual desires. 

[unicorndustbjd]

This gorgeous girl has been home with me for a WHOLE year! Holy smokes, I can’t believe she’s been here for so long already!

Sadly, this is a current photo of her. She does have nicer clothes, this is just a quick mock-up of a dress I’ve been working on that I haven’t changed her out of. But no face-up yet. I find sending dolls out for face-ups to be quite stressful, so I put it off for as long as possible. I would practice on my own to at least give her something temporary, but lack of space makes it difficult. Either way, I still think she’s beautiful!

I’m actually very excited because I finally found a name for her. She was originally based after a character I wrote many years ago that I somehow grew to love. This character started out life as a throwaway character so I didn’t put much effort into her name. Now, as she’s evolved, I’ve been searching and struggling to find just the perfect name for her, and last night I think I finally found it. 

So, BJD-Tumblr-verse, please meet: Trinity!!

[unicorndustbjd]

Simple Dress Style 2! Good golly is my camera terrible X_X

I am so freaking pleased with the turn out! I do have conflicted feelings over this one though, I think the design is my favorite, unfortunately I don’t think I feel that I am skilled enough to yet considered offering it in my shop. The inside seams are very rough as I have no access to a serger and I think with the ruffles anything but would not look very nice. I would also like to line the bodice, but that is still a bit more advanced than my current skill allows.

So this design might sit on the shelf a little while longer. In any case, I’m very happy to have 2 dress design and 2 skirts designs to get myself started with! I know they are not the most intricate of garments, but the goal is to create simple, beautiful clothes that fit and drape over a variety of body types for many to enjoy, not just a select few.

[unicorndustbjd]

Simple dress attempt number one!

I think this fabric does absolutely nothing for the simplicity of the design, but overall I’m happy with it! This trial was super rough and it needs a little bit more fine tuning, mostly with the bust darts and the underarm area. 

So sad since I think the only way to create a second, cleaner muslin is to take this one apart and use it as a base.

[unicorndustbjd]

So close! And yet... I forgot to make sure the darn waistband would fit over her hips (even with the elastic in the back). Ugh. It’s pinned in the back right here, but I’m at least trying to take comfort that the shape is exactly what I hoped for! Not to mention I’m glad I have quite a bit of this cheap fabric to keep practicing with. I’m debating if it would look cuter if it was shorter, or if this is a good length. Maybe it just depends on the fabric.

I only wish I had space to set up my sewing machine. Even in doll size, this still takes quite a bit of time to do...

[unicorndustbjd]

Will this pretty girl get a face-up in the new year? Perhaps. Perhaps not. I’m just so happy I managed to snag her this year (after YEARS of waiting!) that I don’t really mind if she sits around naked faced for a while.