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[icancdramahanfu]

An idiot’s guide to making cdrama period dress - the Wen Ke Xing edition.

Like many people, I was sucked into the cdrama Word of Honor and it has consumed more of my life than I’d like to admit.  I’m always big into making character outfits under the pretense of a great Halloween costume, but really, I should come clean that I just like to do some cosplay/historical dress/fun outfits.  Thank you pandemic lockdown and lack of traveling; I really got into historical dress youtubers and it shows in my new interest in natural fibers and vintage patterns.

My goal is the make a full replica of the following outfit from the show. 

I chose this one for several reasons.

i.) this is one of the simpler outfits that WKX wears.  The outer green jacket has a fairly straight cut in front and has unstructured shoulders. ii.) the blue and red layers and both following a ‘long shirt’ pattern, and again are simple in structure. iii.) the belt is also a large band with a red cord as the major accent. iv.) color scheme; I personally prefer his blue/green/purple outfits and I like the pop of red he frequently wears as a part of layer 2, a reference to his role as the ghost valley master. With this in mind, I did some research using ye olde interwebs. I tried to find resources, but they are rather limited in English.  I can find tons of images for patterns in Chinese with an image search, but what I want is a step by step guide for how to sew it together and to know what parts can be modified and what parts have to be kept constant.

There is a website with resources based in Toronto, but I suspect this was written by an engineer based on how text heavy it is and the use of a CAD program. https://torguqin.wordpress.com/hanfu/hanfu-tutorial-list/ I’ve read it several times over and as someone with sewing experience, I would have preferred more pictures.  Maybe this makes more sense to other readers, but I felt pretty meh about it.

I turned to finding a more traditional pattern making guide and purchased this book;  Hanfu Pattern Making by TT Duong.  It is available as an ebook on Amazon with both metric and English units.

I chose the English units version as I’m currently in the States.  Sure, I could have gotten the metric one - I use metric for my job and lived in Canada for 5 years for work meaning I only do temperatures in Celsius but but but. . . . I bought my sewing machine in the States and the seam allowance markers are all in inches.  American scientist problems, am I right?

The Hanfu Pattern Making book is fairly easy to understand; the major concepts for making a wide variety of garments and highlights the mix and match abilities of them as well.  This was how I determined that the red and blue layers of WKX’s outfit are following the long shirt pattern shown here.  I think this corresponds to the Zhiju/直裾 - straight-hem robe as described by @ziseviolet​

Most importantly, the book helps you estimate the total yardage of fabric you will need and instructs how to lay the pattern down on the fabric and how to cut it out according to the grain line and selvedge.  This is critical for getting the correct draping effect with the fabric and will it allow to fit and flow better when you are wearing it. With the wider teardrop shaped sleeves, I decided on an extra yard of fabric.  I’m still not sure if this will be enough - I may need to make it a little less curved and not quite as wide but I’ll update as necessary.

This requires you to draft your pattern ‘from scratch’ and I can already state that a mock-up will be essential.  The guide also has estimates e.g. a curve of 4-6″ at the base so make sure you are consistent with your choices.  I am going to give a suggested order of events on how to most efficiently establish your workflow.

Fabric selection:

Although a bit counter-intuitive, I chose to purchase my fabric first.  After over thirty minutes of searching for good fabric matches from domestic suppliers ranging from Mood to JoAnn’s to my aunt’s sister’s shop, I realized it would be easier to [gasp] order fabric directly from China even with a variable shipping time.  Plus, I could find patterns that are much closer matches to the original than anything here in the States.

I picked a bamboo fabric for the coat in a baby green color ordering 4m which is ~4 yards.

The fabric was in stock and shipped out fairly quickly and cleared customs without issue arriving 20 days faster than expected.

For the blue layer ( Zhiju/直裾 - straight-hem robe?) I went with this fabric with a leaf pattern.  I choose it as a color match, not as a pattern match since I couldn’t find any fabrics in dusty blue with blades of grass. I also ordered 4m, again ~4 yards.

Unfortunately, this was still in production when I ordered it and I’m currently waiting for it to ship out.  The seller has updated me on the status and I’m hoping it ships out soon. Update - my blue fabric arrived safely in the States, 1 day after the original predicted delivery date.  Nice!  I would highly recommend this fabric seller; excellent customer service.

The red layer ( Zhiju/直裾 - straight-hem robe?) I decided to save some money and purchase a cotton fabric locally at JoAnn’s.  I wanted cotton since it breathes and something that looked close-ish but under $10/yard.  I chose this cotton calico, which normally would be used for quilting, but the calicos have abstract patterns that mimic the patterns woven into silk. I bought 4 yards.

Update - I had to buy another 1.5 yards b/c I couldn’t quite fit my pieces; the fabric isn’t very wide and my sleeves were going to end up too short.  Double check the width of your fabric.  Unlike the imported fabrics this fabric was pretty short for width compared to other fabrics.

I may change my mind in the future and upgrade it also to silk but for right now I’m curious to see if it works out fine as it is only the second layer. For the white Zhong Yi/中衣 (middle clothes) first layer, I just got basic cotton twill, and purchased 3 yards.  I’m not including a picture b/c it is just basic white cotton.

Lastly, I bought 4 yards of white cotton muslin at $6/yard to make a mock-up.  Also no fun picture of crappy fabric for you.

Make sure to wash and iron all of your fabric before using! I washed the cotton on cold with an unscented detergent air-dried it and then ironed out major wrinkles.

Drafting the pattern:

Following the directions in Hanfu Pattern Making, I took a bunch of measurements of myself.  This would likely be slightly more accurate if someone else did this for me, but I live alone and my cat isn’t capable of assisting me.  The fact that the book tells you exactly what to measure and then how to apply it, is vastly easier than the link above (sorry likely Canadian engineer).

The measurements allow you to plug and play to generate your draft pattern. This was my first sketch, which is rough and not drawn to scale.

On the left you can see the measurement for various parts.  Above was my first attempt for layer 2. For the flare at the base, I chose 4″ and followed the suggested 3/4″ curve.

back armpit measurement is equal to: 1/4 bust + 5/8″

my bust is 32″, so 1/4 is 8″ and I add 5/8″ to that = 8 and 5/8″ waist is equal to: 1/2 waist + 2″

my waist is 27.5″, so 13.75″ (13 and 3/4″) + 2″ = 15.75″ (15 and 3/4″)

Therefore, once you are done calculating the various measurements you can add them onto a rough sketch of the shape of the pattern. I choose to start with what the book refers to as layer 2 for my initial measurements.  This is because I wanted to do the mock-up to correspond to the red second layer.  I don’t think it matters which layer you decide to start from since you will either be adding or subtracting from a layer to change to the one above or below it.

With my Hokkaido cat notebook in hand, filled with my notes and numbers, I drafted the pattern.  For drafting paper, I went to Target and bought gift wrapping paper as it has a grid pattern on the backside.  This pattern is massive, even with my kitchen table, I still couldn’t fit all of it on my cardboard cutting guide!  You can’t clearly see the grid on the ‘wrong’ side of the wrapping paper, but it is there. Since the wrapping paper wanted to curl, books were used on the corners and I didn’t need that many extra tools.

For drafting, I used a 2B pencil, the 2″ wide by 18″ long ruler with holes in the middle (from JoAnn’s) and the 12″ curve ruler.  I also had a measuring tape to roughly mark of distance.  I went over the pencil with a ballpoint pen once I decided on the lines and shape. The curve of the neckline was the hardest part.  I made an X in the corner of the neck line and an X at the waistline point.  I then connected this with a straight line and at the halfway point took the line in by 1/2″ (towards the side of the body).  The suggestion of the book is 3/4″, but I decided to be a little more conservative.  I then gently made the slight curve by hand so that the most curved point was by 1/2″. The armpit/shoulder is the next most difficult part.  My sketch above isn’t quite correct, the 6″ should be doubled, 6″ for the front and 6″ for the back based on my measurements.  You need to make sure that the armpit curves are in line with each other!  I had the back one off and I had to erase it and redraw it.

I started with the initial curve of a 1″ armpit as suggested in the book.  It says the curve can between 1/2″-2″.  Note that the book is designed for a very small size range, from about 5′ to 5′5″ (152.4-165 cm) and I am 5′3″ (160 cm). To make the curve, I used the curved ruler to trace a nice smooth line.  Just make sure you use the same part of the ruler e.g. 1″ to 3″ or 9″ to 12″ etc.  I went with the curve that looked the best.

This pattern doesn’t include seam allowance - you will have to add that on when cutting.  To be most accurate, trace the pattern onto your fabric.  I like to use the removable fabric markers like these:

You can then use the other color to mark out dots along the fabric for seam allowance, like 5/8″.  If you can’t use fabric markers there are also removable mechanical pencils that come in yellow, magenta or you can be old school and use chalk. I transferred the pattern to the cheap cotton muslin fabric and cut it out.  There aren’t many seams to sew and I ignored the sleeves since I wanted to determine if the pattern fit me well.  I placed the right sides together and first sewn together the back seam.  After that I did the armpit/side seams, leaving the armpit unfinished on the end and check the fit.  Already you can see that the neckline isn’t laying flat and the armpits are super tight.

I just grabbed a long scarf to tie it down and adjust the fit at the waist.

Leaning forward you can see the neckline is even more of a mess and the armpits are far to tight even though I am wearing a fitted t-shirt underneath (as this is layer two).

I went back to the drawing board to adjust the pattern.  I kept my original pattern and added more paper to the armpit and neckline area to draft a new pattern and cut it out instead of a completely new draft since the waist down was totally fine, falling around my ankles.

This time I made a 2″ curve for the armpit, added more length to the armpit as well and only sewed the top with some scrap blue fabric.  As you can see here, it was a more optimal armpit fit.

I also shifted the neckline curve to reduce it to 1/4″ instead of the 1/2″ from the first mock up.  This was an excellent decision as it fit in the chest area much better. This is my sketch to reshape the neckline.

This is how it looked on me.  Excellent!

The neck still looks wide because I haven’t added the neck placket but the fabric lays much more naturally. My conclusion to date is that if you don’t have a very large bust size, err on the side of making the neckline less curved. 

What I also concluded from this mock up is that my measurements for layer 2 are more likely my layer 1 measurements since they were quite form fitting on top.

The next step (backwards compared to the suggested order in the book) was to add sleeves.  I guessed what shape would work best and my first draft was terrible as shown here.

The bottom was too square and I was trying to figure it out based on this scene from the drama.  I chose this model for the sleeve since you can tell that the white layer in WKX’s outfits has a relatively wide sleeve.

The only part that I used the pattern for reference was how to attach it to the armpit at the shoulder.  The overall sleeve shape was just what I thought looked nice.  Keep in mind that the shoulder seam sits fairly low on the shoulder compared to a modern garment. The seam line is a few inches down from the shoulder and you can see that the garment will naturally pucker in front of the armpit.  In his several days of drunken sulking, you can see the seam line is even with the back of the chair.

The weight of the sleeve itself helps to hold the shoulder structure and it doesn’t pop up as you see on my second mock-up with the blue fabric.

I drastically reduced the size of the sleeve curve and made a pattern based on something that seemed alright.  With all of this mock-up work done, I decided to turn to making the first layer, the Zhong Yi/中衣 which I have summarized as a separate post.

[starlightrows]

Something Sweet

Chapter 1 - Spring Festival Funnel Cakes

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Series Masterlist

Pairing: Modern!Paz Vizsla x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: None!

Summary: Spring has sprung and business is booming and the community is celebrating with a weekend long festival... that you get to spend attending a vendors booth next to the handsome baker from down the street

The depths of winter in a place where it snows is not the ideal time to be moving your whole life and business. But you didn’t have much of a choice, you had already gotten the business license taken care of, the storefront purchased, and suppliers lined up. And with the lease on your apartment being up, it’s now or never. So with a small moving truck full of your belongings all packed up, you set off towards the city to finally chase your dream of opening a flower shop.

Your new apartment is nice, a bit smaller than your previous one but that comes with living alone in the city on a tight budget. But still it’s a one bedroom and it’s enough for just you. The storefront is beautiful. It’s located downtown in what you had assumed was a historic district of the city, but somehow is not classified as such. The buildings are lovely red brick exterior with large open windows for passers by to peek in, with quaint awnings over every door. Your store is located on the corner, with plenty of space to set up floral displays and hang potted plants in the windows. Come spring time this is going to be amazing, and beautiful and everything you dreamed of. You just hoped that others would think so too and come shop there.

By the time mid February rolls around there is still snow in the mountains, and the occasional rain and snow storm that blows through the area but it’s not as bad as when you first moved. Your apartment is coming along nicely, and your store is looking pretty good as well. You’re hoping to open by March 1st, but that’s still two and half weeks away. You’ve got plenty of time to finish painting, assembling shelves, figuring out how to want to arrange your displays, and set up the black board you’re planning to use to decorate the wall behind the checkout counter. You thought it might be fun to use chalk paint to decorate it for the various seasons, write specials, and do holiday countdowns.

You’re a little frustrated with yourself that you weren’t able to get everything in order to be open this weekend. Valentine’s Day is the prime time of the year for a flower and botanical shop. But spring is coming and that means birthdays, weddings, prom season, graduations, date nights, Mother’s Day and spring decorating! But for today it’s just you, a pair of worn overalls and a sweater, and a little can of paint for detailing the floor boards inside the shop. No flowers or valentines dates for you this year. You did see that there was a nice looking bakery a little ways down the street, maybe you could pick up a little treat for after dinner or some nice bread for making fancy toast.

Just the thought of it makes your mouth water, and your tummy rumble. Maybe you could make it an afternoon snack instead. You cap the lid to the paint bucket, and wash off your hands in the sink in the back. It’s not actively snowing but it is freezing outside, so you pull your jacket on over your sweater and lock the shop up behind you. You steal a quick glance at it, admiring how well it’s coming along, before you tuck your hands into your pockets and make your way down the street to the bakery.

It’s getting on in the afternoon, and the bakery isn’t very busy at the moment. But you’ve seen the lines in the morning when the bread is fresh out of the ovens, hopefully there will be something left for you.

You pull the door to the bakery open and step inside, glancing up at the sound of the tinkling bell that alerts the man behind the counter to your presence. He’s probably the tallest, broadest, burliest man you’ve ever seen; and then he smiles at you. It’s a smile that takes up his whole face, and lights up his eyes.

“Hey, welcome in” his voice is deep and sweet. You can literally feel your heart skip a beat and you almost forget why you came in here.

“Hi, I was hoping you might have some pastries or baguettes” you say, approaching the counter. He seems to blank out for a second, because he doesn’t answer you immediately.

“Uh- no sorry no pastries. But I do have a couple of French baguettes left,” he says. You’re a little disappointed about the pastries, perhaps you needed to come in earlier in the day. He pulls a baguette from the bread counter and offers it to you in a long parchment bag.

While he rings up your bread, you take the time to look around at his displays and other breads. “What’s your specialty?” You find yourself asking, thoroughly impressed with the wide variety he has to offer.

“I’m really proud of my ciabatta rolls,” he says earnestly “but I’ve been working on a new roasted tomato and herb crusted bread that excited about,”

You smile at his enthusiasm, it’s great to see people who are passionate about their craft. “I’ll have to come back and try it when you’ve got it figured out,”

You thank the kind man, and step back out into the cold to make your way back to your shop. Instantly you regret not asking for his name, but then again he just works down the street you’ll find out eventually.

———

February passed by in an overcast and sometimes snowy daze. You are able to meet your deadline and open your new store on March 1st. It’s finally a little sunnier on your opening weekend and just that simple fact has people outside and milling about. People are anxious to usher in spring, and there is no better way to brighten up the tail end of winter than by having fresh flowers, lush green house plants and aesthetically pleasing succulents around to decorate your space. Your entire store front is practically picked bare by the end of your first day! Good thing you get fresh deliveries every day, and have a fully stocked back room to replace all your wares for tomorrow.

Business slows down just a touch, but you’ve still got steady foot traffic for most of the day all through the spring. The weather is warming up, and the days are getting longer. Prom season is coming up and you’ve already pre cutting ribbon and bulk ordering corsage boxes. Graduations will be coming up soon too, you make sure to mark on your calendar when the local schools ceremonies are so you can have bouquets and lei ready in time.

One warm afternoon in April it’s a little slow and you’ve already swept the store, washed the windows inside and out, and potted 15 new plants in the back; so you take a well deserved break by standing behind the counter and reading a book. The bell on the door chimes and you look up to see a woman wearing jeans and a polo shirt with the city logo embroidered on the chest.

“Hi my name is Jennifer I’m with the city’s Parks and Recreation department,” she introduces herself and offers her hand to shake. You smile and accept her hand, giving your name as well.

“I’m stopping by all the local businesses to give you this” she hands you a flyer “the city’s annual spring festival is coming up at the end of May. Traditionally we bring in food trucks and invite arts and crafts vendors from the area to come sell their pieces and get some exposure, in the last couple years we’ve been expanding it to other local businesses too. There’s more information on the website to sign up to get you a booth if you’re interested. I think having a plants and flowers booth would be perfect for the spring festival”

She stays to chat about the festival for a couple minutes describing how fun it is to see all the local artists showing their craft, children getting their faces painted, live music, picnicking, and coming together as a community to celebrate the change in seasons.

“This city really comes alive at community events,” she tells you “Free concerts in the park in the summer, cultural learning events, fun runs, around the holidays we have a big Christmas tree lighting ceremony and winter carnival, don’t even get me started on how much this city goes all out for Halloween!”

Jennifir leaves after another couple minutes of excited chatter about the various events put on by the city, and continues on down the street to invite your business neighbors to attend the festival as vendors too. The whole interaction leaves you thrilled at the opportunity to advertise your business, make some more money for the shop, and be part of the community! Your long forgotten book is tucked away in favor of pulling out your laptop to register yourself with the city planning committee to participate in the festival.

The next few weeks you work extra hard to get through prom season, and put in more hours than usual to get everything prepared for graduations as well. The days tick by in May. Mother’s Day is an amazing weekend, you put up a temporary photo shoot wall for mom’s, daughters, grandmothers, or really anyone to come in and take a picture with a flower wall backdrop. Another amazing success full of happy smiling people!

Finally the weekend of the festival arrives, people from the city have been cleaning up the park and working their tails off to get everything perfect for the event. A massive stage is erected in the park, the usual parking lots are lined with enclosed pop up tents for the vendors selling hot foods, extra trash cans are placed everywhere, and early Saturday morning the local businesses are arriving with their SUV’s and vans full of goods to set up their tables.

You are among that crowd. Busily working to get your table set up under a pop up tent for shade, your flowers and potted plants ready for display, making sure you have enough cash for making change in transactions, and cardboard boxes to help people carry their new plant babies home with them.

All around you other local businesses are setting up their booths too. You recognize a few of them that you’ve visited already, but you’re looking forward to seeing more of them. Beside you, you absolutely recognize the tall, broad, and exceptionally handsome man that owns the bakery down the street from you. Spending the whole weekend stuck next to eye candy, and artisan bread… even if you didn’t sell a single flower this weekend at least you’d have a good view.

The morning is warming up, people will be arriving soon, your coffee long since gone. You steal a glance over at the man carefully arranging his bread displays. He glances over at you too, and grins at catching you staring.

“Morning,” he says cheekily

“Good morning,” you reply, going a bit warm in the cheeks.

“Flower booth for a spring festival? I think you’re in the running for making the most profit this weekend,” he jokes looking at your pretty flower displays and cute potted plants. You laughed a little and eyed his selection of breads hungrily

“I dunno, people don’t want to carry around a heavy plant all day. But they do want to snack on some delicious bread,”

He laughs, and extends a hand to introduce himself. “I’m Paz by the way,”

You shake his large hand and tell him your name as well. It’s a firm handshake, worn hands and strong forearms presumably from kneading bread dough. The thought makes your tummy flutter, and your heartbeat quicken.

And so it begins. The two of you pull up chairs at the edges of your pop up tents, and spend the whole day laughing, talking, interacting with customers and making sales. At the end of the first day, he sends you home with a loaf of bread with Asiago cheese baked into the top, and you gift him a pretty green succulent and promise him they are almost impossible to screw up taking care of.

The second day of the festival is much the same, except this time he brings you a breakfast sandwich he prepared ahead of time.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I need a taste tester. I’ve been thinking about expanding my menu to add breakfast sandwiches,” he tells you with a shy smile. You gladly accept the sandwich and have to control yourself not to make embarrassing noises when you taste it.

“You made this from scratch?” You ask, taking another bite

“Well I made the bun,” he says, unwrapping his own homemade breakfast sandwich

“If you start selling this, I promise you’ll put places like Starbucks out of business,” you tell him “honestly, I’m gonna have to start coming down there every morning before I open,”

In his head, Paz thinks that would be an absolute dream to have you come see him everyday. But that’s not the kind of thing you tell someone you met 24 hours ago, so he settles for something else instead

“How far is your shop? Maybe you can have your breakfast delivered,”

“You didn’t know?” You ask “I just opened my shop on the far corner of the street your bakery is on. I actually came in to try your bread a couple months ago,”

Paz is a little embarrassed, he knew a business moved in down there but had no idea it was your flower shop. “No way! I remember you coming in to the bakery, but I had no idea you worked down the street,”

“To be fair the store wasn’t open yet, and I somehow managed to forget to introduce myself,” you tell him.

Just like the day before, the two of you spend the day laughing and chatting in between greeting customers and promoting your respective businesses.

In the early afternoon a man with shaggy dark hair, sun glasses, tattoos and a very cute little boy wearing a green bucket hat came over and started making conversation with Paz. He glanced over at you.

“Have you met Din yet?” Paz asks you “He owns the tattoo parlor across from the bakery,”

You smile and shake his hand, you see his little boy eyeing your selection of plants. “Do you want to pick one out buddy?” You ask the little boy, he nods enthusiastically and chooses a little pot with the beginnings of a strawberry plant in it.

“Shorty and I were just gonna go grab some funnel cake before we head home for nap, I just stopped by to see if you wanted some,” Din says

“Yeah, that would be great!” Paz says.

Din turns to you, and extends the same offer. You politely decline, claiming there’s no way you’d ever finish one on your own.

“You can split one with me,” Paz beams. Din nods and leads his son off into the crowd to acquire the sweet treats.

“I can’t believe you haven’t met everyone yet,” Paz says “We all get together on Tuesday nights after hours for beers,”

“Who is we exactly?” You ask, sitting back down in the folding chair the festival committee had generously provided.

“Most of the shop owners on our street, and a couple of others from around the corner. They actually convinced me to move out here and start my business a couple years ago,”

“I had no idea there was such a community amongst the business owners around here,” you admit.

“You’ve gotta come meet everyone next week,” he insists “You’ll fit right in!”

Your heart warms at the sentiment. One of your big fears moving to the city was not knowing anyone and struggling to find a new group of friends. This could be promising!

Din and his son make their way back and come sit behind the tables with you and Paz. You and Paz do split the funnel cake, and have a grand time chatting with Din and his little boy.

“You’re telling me you’ve been in business for three months and haven’t been dragged into the group? You’ve gotta start coming to Tuesday night drinks,” Din laughs

“So I’ve been told. I think you boys have convinced me, I’ll be there on Tuesday,” you laugh. Paz and Din give a little cheer.

“Everyone will be so excited to meet you! But until then I think the little stinker needs to get home for a nap,” Din says scoops up his sleepy son who’s been dozing in his dad’s lap for the last 15 minutes “I’ll see you Tuesday,”

Din gives a one handed wave and disappears back into the crowd.

The remainder of the afternoon is a bit slower, the last remaining festival

“I’ll come down and pick you up so you don’t have to show up on your own,” Paz offers “Besides I need to check out your shop!”

“Awe! Thank you, that would be great!” You reply, a subtle warmth blooming in your cheeks at the thought of him coming to visit your shop.

Your heart does somersaults in your chest. He’s so sweet and kind. And he’s inviting you to be part of his friend group. That has to be a good sign, right?

Taglist: @maybege @gallowsjoker @simping-for-clones @mxndoscyarika @hayley-the-comet

AN: This whole story, but this chapter specifically is very special to me. The city this story takes place in is based off of the two cities I have lived in, in my life. I grew up going to festival that takes place in late spring, that’s really important to the town I was born and grew up in... and the new city that I moved to as an adult is known for its public markets on Saturday’s where local vendors sell their flowers and their baked goods. I am just days away from moving back to my home city (temporarily) and due to covid I didn’t have the opportunity to attend the public market the last two years in a row. I don’t know if I’ll get to participate in the spring festival in my hometown this year.

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[hawkinspostbite]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Words: 4,110

MASTERLIST 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

A/N: I do not claim to, nor do I own Stranger Things; the concept, characters, plot, etc.

[ᴊᴀɴᴜᴀʀʏ 𝟷𝟿𝟾𝟻]

On January 12, Carol threw a rager that had majority of the junior class in a funk for about a week. Since she was away for New Year’s, Carol wanted to make up for it by throwing a party to celebrate the new school semester. As if anybody was actually excited about going back to classes again.

Kate had helped Carol prepare for the party for at least a week. She endured a painful drive to Carmel, alone with Tina’s older brother - their alcohol supplier. As well as countless hours of babbling from her friends on what to wear and who to be with.

She just wanted this damn party to be over with.

Finally the night had come. Kate arrived at Carol’s at 7:30. Walking into the kitchen, she double-checked that all the drinks were cold, and had back-ups on hand. The music would be continuous all night, due to borrowing Tina’s 6-tape cassette player, and Tommy had come through earlier to set up the three kegs in the backyard.

Tina poured the girls each a shot of vodka. “Jesus Christ Carol, would you lighten up? This is a silly Saturday rager, not the Met Ball.” Kate handed her a cup. “Drink up sister.”

Around 8:00 people began to arrive, and by 9:00 the party was in full swing.

For the first hour, Kate had been on the lookout for her brother. He hadn’t been to a party since Halloween, but she could hardly predict what did anymore, so she didn’t know if he would show up or not. She remained in the kitchen, quietly watching over the alcohol.

Much to her dismay, Tommy had arrived late, and brought Billy with him. “Harrington, what’s happening?” Tommy strode up to her.

She grabbed two beers from the bin beside her, handing them to Tommy. He handed one to Billy before cracking his open. “Nothing much actually.” She flicked the water droplets from her hand onto the boys in front of her.

Tommy pouted. “No boys suiting the princess tonight?”

Kate sighed in annoyance. “Guess not Tommy. Carol's out back waiting for you. She couldn’t get the keg spout to work on the second barrel.”

“Son of a bitch.” Tommy muttered before going out the back door.

Billy stood in front of her, taking a sip from his beer.

A few moments later he followed Tommy.

About a half an hour later Kate had joined the vast majority of the party-goers in the backyard. Billy had began his keg challenge - in which he tried to see if anybody was willing to attempt and beat his very impressive record of forty-two seconds.

Nobody stepped up.

“I’ll give it a go.” Kate’s mouth worked before he brain could react. Her brother had set a record relatively close to Billy’s, so why couldn’t she give it a try?

“Alright, Harrington’s the only one with balls enough to try.” Tommy grinned. “Come here, I’ll lift you up.”

“No. Carol, Tina, can you guys do it?” Kate turned to look at her friends.

The pair stepped away from the crowd with smiles. “We’d be happy to.” Carol spoke.

“Girls support girls.”

Kate stepped up to the keg, placing her hands around the rim. Tina and Carol grabbed her legs and lifted her up. “Time starts now!” Tommy shouted, and the crowd began to count.

“One, two, three.” - What the hell was she doing? She didn’t even like beer.

“Nine, ten, eleven.” - Was she doing this to annoy Billy or to restore the Harrington name?

“Twenty, twenty-one.”

Her eyes darted over to notice Billy intently watching her.

“Twenty-six, twenty-seven.” - His hair looked really nice.

“Thirty.” - Why the hell did she just think that?

“Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six.” - Holy shit.

“Forty, forty-one.” - Just a few more seconds.

“Forty-four.”

She slapped the keg, coughing as the remaining liquid in her mouth spilled out, drenching the front of her shirt. The crowd was cheering. Carol grabbed her arm. “Holy shit, you just beat Hargrove’s record!”

Kate shook her head at her friends. “Never again.” She kicked the barrel. “Never let me do that again.”

She used her sleeve to wipe her chin. Billy walked up to her, holding out his hand. “Congratulations Keg King.”

She shook his hand. “I’ve always wondered what it was like to be king.”

“Would you like a beer to celebrate your victory, your highness?” She dropped her hand, the ground began to shift a little.

“Shush. Stop talking.” She took a few seconds to compose herself before going inside. “No more drinks for me. God, please.” She swatted at the bottle of beer Billy tried to hand her.

He sighed, placing it back in the bin. “You wanna get out of here?” He asked her, helping her to stand up a little straighter against Carol’s cabinets.

“I don’t like you.” She mumbled.

“Okay. That’s okay.” Billy placed an arm around her shoulders and began to lead her out to his car. He helped her into the back seat, and that was the last thing Kate remembered about that night.

The next morning Kate awoke, still in the back seat of Billy’s Camaro, but sans her shirt and shoes. Instead, her upper half was covered with Billy’s denim jacket. In front of her, Billy sat asleep in the drivers seat.

“Holy fuck!” She exclaimed, sitting up.

“What! What?” Billy awoke with a start, turning around to see what the problem was.

“I have no shirt on? Jesus Christ, turn around!” She shouted at him.

He quickly turned back around. “Where is my shirt? Why am I not wearing it? Hargrove you better start fucking talking or I am gong to loose my shit back here!”

“Its up here!” He grabbed her shirt from the dashboard and tossed it back at her.

She began to re-dress. “Why was I not wearing it?” She poked his shoulder. “You can look now.”

“You spilled beer all over it last night. When you beat me at the keg-stand. Do you remember anything?”

“Oh my god. Oh my god, did we sleep together? Please tell me we didn’t sleep together.” She buried her face in her hands.

“No. No we didn’t sleep together, you passed out in the back seat after I took your wet shirt off you.” He paused. “Wait, why are you so worried about having potentially slept with me?”

Her face dropped. “You’re an asshole.”

“So are you!”

“Excuse me?”

“You punched me in the face! You stabbed me in the neck with a needle! What do you mean you aren’t an asshole?”

Kate had to stop for a second before responding. She almost laughed. Here she was at 7AM, in the back of Billy Hargrove’s car, arguing with him. And he wasn’t acting like a total dick? Was it all a front?

“You’re right, you’re right. I did in fact punch you in the face.”

“…And stab me in the neck with a needle!”

“With good reason!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! You kicked my brother’s ass. You knocked him out! So we’re even.”

“Even?”

“Yes, even.”

“Not even, not even close.”

She grabbed her shoes from the floor and climbed into the passenger seat. “Can you please just take me home?”

Billy begrudgingly drove Kate to the end of her street. “Hey Harrington. I know a way you could even the score.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Go on a date with me.” Billy grinned.

“Oh you’ve got to be joking.” She placed her hand on the door handle. But Billy clicked the lock.

“Not joking.”

Kate sighed. “Fine. Fine! Tomorrow night, I will meet you at the end of your street at seven thirty, and then you can take us some place that nobody will see us. And then we can continue on with our lives.”

“Or not.”

“Hargrove, I swear-“

“Fine. Tomorrow night, seven thirty. It’s a date.”

“Fine.” She stepped out of the car. “Thanks for the ride. See you.”

“See you.” He grinned at her as he sped down the street.

The next night Kate kept her word and met Billy at the end of old Cherry Road at seven thirty. He was waiting in his car, music on full-blast. She smacked the window with her palm. “Open up? It’s freezing out here!”

The door unlocked and she climbed in. “Where to?” She asked.

“Someplace quiet.”

They ended up parking at the top of Satler’s Quarry, the radio on just low enough to be heard. “So….”

“The reason I brought you here is because you told me to take you somewhere nobody would see us.” Billy spoke.

“I thought you would take us somewhere in Carmel or something, not to the quarry!”

“Jesus, are you ever happy?”

Kate scrunched her nose up. “Very seldomly.”

“This can just be an unconventional date. One where we just talk.”

“Just talk? That’s it?” Kate reached over and placed her hand on Billy’s forehead. “You’re not running a fever.”

“What are you doing?”

“Just making sure you aren’t sick or possessed or something. Talking is fine.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to lean her back against the door. “Talk.”

“So tell me about your childhood?”

“Wrong. I have a few questions first.”

Billy rolled his eyes.

“Why do you hate Lucas? Is it because-“

“No, it isn’t because he’s black…”

“Then why do you hate him?”

“I don’t! I don’t hate him.” She cocked her head at him. “When I first got here I sort of hated everybody. I fucking love California, it’s the only place I know. And I didn’t want to move here, Christ, who would want to voluntarily live here?”

“No, I totally agree.”

“So I guess I figured that since I wasn’t happy, Max couldn’t be either… So I don’t hate Lucas. Just the idea of him.”

“Got it. Next question, are you really an asshole or is it all just an act?”

“What?”

“Your whole, persona-“ She motioned to him. “It screams “asshole”. But yesterday morning I think I may have met the real Billy.”

“How do you mean?”

“I don’t really think you’re an asshole, like you just said, you’re unhappy. People do things to piss other people off when they’re unhappy. - You don’t want to be in Hawkins so everybody in Hawkins has to suffer too.” Billy’s eyes traveled to look out the window. “Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“I’ve got you figured out.” She smirked. “Now. Ask me something.”

Kate and Billy spent their entire date asking questions about each other. And by the end of the night Kate believed she had found the real Billy. Or at least part of the real Billy.

The part of real Billy she had discovered was the complete opposite person she thought he was. The real Billy had a wicked sense of humor, was terrible at flirting, and had admitted that he knew he was a jerk.

Billy had believed that he had actually had a good time. For the first time since moving to Indiana, he had enjoyed spending time with someone.

Billy stopped at the end of Kate’s street. “Want to do this again sometime?” He asked.

Kate inhaled slowly, looking over at Billy. “Sure. Friday night good for you?”

“You’d be okay with missing Andy Wilson’s party?”

“I could honestly not care more about Andy Wilson’s party.”

“Then great, it’s a date.”

[ғᴇʙʀᴜᴀʀʏ 𝟷𝟿𝟾𝟻]

Valentine’s day. Lover’s holiday, single’s day of solitude, and just another excuse for Tina to throw a themed party.

It was ten minutes before homeroom, Tina and Carol were following Kate down the crowded hallway towards her locker. As she opened it, a piece paper fell onto the ground.

“Awe, a love-note? From who?” Carol bent over to grab the paper but Kate snatched it before she could see it. “Hey!”

“It’s for me. I get to read it.” She turned her back to the locker and faced her friends. The Valentine was technically not a Valentine at all, but a piece of lined paper. A pencil-drawn heart on the front of it. She unfolded it.

𝘏𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘵-𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧. 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦? - 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘚𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘳

Blush crept onto her cheeks. “Harrington, what’s on that note that’s making you blush so much?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

She stuffed the note into the breast pocket of her jean jacket. “Fine, don’t share. Come on.” Tina rolled her eyes and the three girls continued on with their day.

Later that night Kate found Billy at Tina’s party. - Behind the wall that connected the living and dining rooms. “Hey.” He handed her a cup full of liquid. She took a sip. Vodka-cran. Her favorite.

“Thanks for the note by the way.”

“How do you know it was me?”

Kate laughed. “You’re the only person I know that doesn’t know the proper times to capitalize letters.”

Billy touched his bottle to her cup. “I’ll cheers to that.”

“What?”

“You being right. Again.” The pair laughed. “Anybody suspect anything?”

“Nope. Carol and Tina were there when I read it but they didn’t see anything.” She turned around to peek out from behind the wall they were standing behind. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Don’t feel like talking much?”

“Not necessarily.” She smiled up at him.

Billy nodded, leaving the room. Kate waited quietly in her spot. “Yeah I’m not feeling too hot man, I’m gonna head home. See you.”

A few minutes later Kate came from behind the wall. “Hey Tina.” She walked up to her friend, coughing. “I don’t feel good at all. I’ve gotta dip.”

Tina placed her hand on Kate’s cheek. “Well you are a little warm.” She sighed. “Did you want to go upstairs in my room, take a little nap?”

“No!” Kate cleared her throat. “No, I just want to go home.”

“Do you need a ride or-“

“No. No ride, I’m fine Tina, really.” She smiled at her friend. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Kate left Tina’s house and walked to the end of the block, where Billy was waiting for her. “What took so long?” He asked as she climbed into the passenger seat.

“Tina tried to get me to stay in her room but luckily I got out of that. Her mattress is uncomfortable anyway.” That made Billy chuckle.

“Quarry or the junkyard?”

“Not the junkyard.”

“Quarry it is.”

Billy and Kate drove to the quarry. Where they spent the rest of the night talking - sort of. They used their mouths, it just wasn’t for talking.

[ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ 𝟷𝟿𝟾𝟻]

In March things got real. As real as a top-secret relationship, that wasn’t technically labelled a relationship can get.

Kate and Billy had their first fight.

It was a Friday night, and Billy and Kate were going to a bonfire at the old junkyard with the rest of their crew.

Steve was in Indianapolis with their parents, doing a job shadow.

Kate had spent the afternoon and evening at the Wheelers with the kids. The plan was for her to go right from Mike’s to the junkyard, but Max insisted that the boys show her how to properly play through a game of D&D, and now they had been playing for five hours.

The time was getting later and later, and before Kate knew it, it was eleven at night. Hop had picked up El and Will. And Kate realized that she now had no other choice but to stay over at Mike’s with the rest of the crew. She couldn’t possibly leave then, without looking suspicious.

So she accepted her fate, and settled in for the night.

The next morning she managed to slip out before any of the other kids woke up. She biked home, and let herself in the garage door. She went inside and was almost up the stairs before realizing that there was a person in her living room.

“Billy?” Billy was, in fact, sitting on her couch. “…How are you in my house?”

“Where were you yesterday?”

She narrowed her eyes at her. “At Mike’s. I’m not fighting about this.”

“I am.”

She turned to walk upstairs, Billy followed. “Max wanted to learn how to play D&D. Everyone knows my brother isn’t home, and it got so late that if I left they would all be suspicious. That’s it. That’s the story.”

Billy glared at her as she opened her bedroom door. He followed her inside, sitting down on her bed.

“And once again, how did you get into my damn house?”

“You left the sliding door unlocked.”

She sighed in annoyance. “Ah, ah, no!” Kate swatted at his thighs.

“What?” He got up.

“Don’t lay on my bed in outdoor clothes.” She smoothed out her comforter, shaking her head.

“Come again? I can’t lay on your bed in “outdoor clothes”?”

“No. No!” She went back to getting her clothes out of her dresser. “The bed is a sacred place. You only get into bed after you have been showered.” She turned to look at him. “And I know you haven’t showered.”

“How’s that?”

“You smell like a literal fire.”

“You’re insane!”

She groaned. “I am not insane unless diagnosed by a medically-trained professional!”

He stomped towards the door. “Oh don’t pull that nerdy bullshit with me. You’re acting crazy.”

“Billy, all I ask is that you don’t sit on my bed unless you shower! Why does that make me crazy?!”

“Because! It just does!”

“Get out.”

“Are you serious?”

“Billy, just get out! You said crazy, so I might as well act it! Goodbye!”

“You are ridiculous-“

“Goodbye! Billy!”

He groaned and slammed the door shut on his way out. Kate stood in her spot as she waited to hear the slam of the back door. After hearing him officially leave, Kate angrily continued on with her day.

Steve returned home that afternoon, to a silent house, save for Kate’s room. Playing a maximum volume was Motley Crue, as Kate laid on her bed, tiredly staring at the ceiling.

Steve knocked on the door, but the music was too loud. He opened it. “Hey, I’m back…” He scrunched his nose at the sight of his sister laying in her pajamas at 4PM. “Everything okay?”

Kate sighed, using her remote to pause the music. “Peachy.”

“Are you sure?”

“Peachy Steve!” She screeched, and Steve took that as his opportunity to leave her alone.

Kate spent the rest of her weekend alone in her room, listening to Motley Crue and contemplating everything. But mostly Billy.

On Monday, Billy approached her in the hallway before third period. She placed her hand on his chest, attempting to push him away. “We are not doing this here.”

“Yes we are.” He said through his teeth.

“Billy-“ He grabbed her arm and pulled her around an empty corner.

“Let me speak.” She huffed, tugging her arm away from him. “I’m sorry I overreacted about you not coming Friday night. I’m sorry I laid on your bed. And I’m sorry I said you were crazy.”

“And insane.”

“And insane.” He sighed. “Am I forgiven?”

Kate pursed her lips, contemplating being difficult or just agreeing with him. “I suppose.”

”But don’t forget the bed rule buddy.”

[ᴀᴘʀɪʟ 𝟷𝟿𝟾𝟻]

Steve ruined April.

It was crunch-time for the seniors. Preparing for finals, last-minute committals to universities, shit like that. So it was only natural that Steve literally screwed everything up for himself, and coincidentally Kate too.

Steve failed to get into Tech. Tech! Granted, Steve wasn’t a genius, but he wasn’t a total dud either, so Kate was obviously floored when her brother revealed that he couldn’t even get into the local tech school.

But that wasn’t the only reason Kate wanted to kill her brother. The other reason was because of their dad. When Mr. Harrington found out that Steve had failed to get into Tech he was even more upset than Kate was. He had decided that since Steve wouldn’t be attending college, that his punishment would be a job.

A real job.

And lucky for Steve, the new Starcourt mall was opening soon, and there were tons of businesses hiring.

Unlucky for Kate, her dad decided to take this Steve lesson, and make it a Harrington-kids lesson, resulting in Kate also being forced to get a job. But over her dead body would she be caught having a job at the mall. So she opted for the Hawkins community pool instead.

The only positive to the whole “having a real job” thing was when Kate interviewed with the pool manager, Alan, he liked her so much that he made her the assistant manager, earning her an extra 35 cents per hour.

Kate spent April earning her lifeguard certification, fighting with Steve, and silently plotting a way to kill her parents, out of sheer childish anger.

[ᴍᴀʏ 𝟷𝟿𝟾𝟻]

“You’re joking right now.” Kate clenched her jaw as she watched Billy walk through the gates of the Hawkins Community Pool.

So much for laying low!

Alan had called the pool staff in for a pre-season meeting. But Billy had failed to mention that he was also part of the staff.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered.

“I’m a lifeguard now. Cool right?” He clicked his gum, smiling at Heather Holloway, who had just walked through the gate.

Kate elbowed his side. “Eyes here buddy.” He retrained his focus onto her. “I thought we were supposed to be playing it cool? Getting a job at the same place as me is literally the opposite of playing it cool!”

“Technically I’m sleeping with my boss… that’s cool.”

“Oh my god!” She slapped her forehead. This was hopeless. Above her, Billy was smiling wickedly. “Go over there and stand by Freddy. For real.”

He pouted, but did as he was told.

He behaved himself for the remainder of the meeting.

The pool officially opened on Memorial Day. Billy and Kate were the only two scheduled for the entire day, 11-7. They had hardly gotten to speak to each other that day, considering it was spent watching the town of Hawkins try not to drown.

Promptly at 7:00 Kate had made sure everyone was gone from the pool, and locked up the front gate. She had sent Billy to check the locker rooms while she closed up the register and front desk.

She went to sit down at the edge of the pool, sticking her feet in. Behind her, Billy cleared his throat. She turned to see him standing in his lifeguard uniform, grinning and holding two white plastic-wrapped popsicles in his hand. “Twin pop?”

He offered her a treat, and then took a seat next to her. Kate smiled and opened up the wrapper. “Banana… Where have you been hiding these all day?” Banana was her favorite.

“I snuck a little cooler in this morning. Got some beer too-“

“No. No, I want to remember this.” She smiled once again. “What kind do you have?”

“Cherry.”

“Ugh. You’re so predictable.”

“Banana is weird.”

“Whatever.” Kate rolled her eyes, looking at the water. “Thank you.”

Billy looked over at her, immediately overcome with the feeling of confusion. “For what?”

“For the popsicle… And everything else the past few months.”

“Are we even dating?”

“I don’t know…” Things became quiet. “Whatever this is though,-“

“It’s nice.” He grabbed her hand. “It’s nice.”

Billy nodded, squeezing her hand.

They sat in silence and ate their popsicles, and he never let go of her hand.

[ᴊᴜɴᴇ 𝟷𝟿𝟾𝟻]

Steve graduated in June.

Kate planned a surprise graduation party for him, inviting all of the kids over to their house after the ceremony for cake, ice cream, and swimming.

After the graduation party summer was in full-swing.

Steve practically lived at the new mall, he and Robin were the only employees at Scoops Ahoy.

Being a manager meant Kate was at the pool almost every day, the only upside to that was the fact that she had managed to schedule herself and Billy the same hours so that when they were off, they were off together.

Dustin was off at camp, so the Harrington house was a lot quieter without it’s third inhabitant.

The rest of the kids managed to balance their time between screwing around at the mall, sneaking into the pool, and spending time kissing each other.

Kate had a firm belief that this summer was going to be different. She had a decent job, a “boyfriend”, and no parents to tell her what to do.

What Kate didn’t know was that summer was going to be extremely different. More different than she could ever want, or imagine.

[ernestodrillparnassian]

Wainscot Media

In order for a company to be successful, especially a fashion company, information is extremely important. It tells stories: a 14 y/o teenage boy who's preparing for Halloween, a recently divorced middle-aged lady whos looking for an excuse to give in to lust, or maybe an old man looking for a suit jacket to attend his recently passed friend. Information communicates and exposes a legacy; A legacy that illustrated what the consumer needs.

Wainscot Media was once a healthcare communications agency founded in 1988. After being sold in 2005, the Dowden family repurchased it and housed it in a new company: Wainscot media has a wide range of clients.

From Garmany to Levis and Corneliani. Wainscot is extremely relevant to the fashion industry nationally and globally. It creates Content Strategy, Branding & Design, Research & Writing, Distribution & Promotion, Reporting & Refining.

Lizette Chin, VP/group publisher of its Luxury Division, which includes MR. With an incredible knowledge of the menswear industry, she has been able to gather an audience of exhibitors and connect them to the right retailers, helping stores and suppliers to enhance their businesses.

MR magazine has always been known as the heart and soul of the menswear industry, providing information and inspiration to our readers. -Lizette Chin

Today, in a post-pandemic and extremely connected world, there's a general struggle to find a product that connects with our generation's identity. The term "gender neutral" gets thrown into the alphabet soup of evolved society and updated terms. In reality, identity goes beyond an extension of a product. Brands understand this, or at least they are now starting to get a grasp of what it means. As time slowly progresses and the new generation assumes positions of higher power, our conditioned schemes will change. The aged dictators will mandate new laws.

However, there's an important worth in identifying the core of someone's morals and the set of values they entail. The tragedy of our world is precisely that nothing any longer is capable of rousing it from its lethargy. No more violent dreams, no refreshment, no awakening. On the path of finding something meaningful, we scream in repentance, and with a wide jaw, we ask for it to come to us. We shall see then if the system is good or merely an echo of a manifestation.

[littlejedii]

Bloom

Long Exposure flower shop AU. This was written off this fanart by sadcooki WOW it’s just so good GO LOOK AT IT please. Made me think of the song Bloom by the Paper Kites. Maybe probably to be posted on ao3 someday maybe? Idk. Story under the break!

It’s a Wednesday, their slowest day of the week. Even worse yet it’s a chilly, windy Wednesday; the clear sky and bright sun deceptive of the dropping October temperatures. Everybody’s bought their Mums for the fall season and the Sunflowers in their greenhouse are starting to wilt a bit.

First thing Mitch does is check on the Indian corn, then the dried Sumac his mom wants to make wreaths with. The heat is on, he’s sure of it, since the warm gust of air that had welcomed him in the early morning had made his eyes tired and heavy.

Regardless, he checks the thermostat, then makes his way back to the greenhouse. It’s barely the size of a backyard shed, lined with damaged plywood shelves on all sides. He starts at the bottom shelf, gently moving each pot out just slightly to check on the plant’s growth.

October is his least favorite month for succulents, but he checks each and every one all the same.

The bottom shelf is the chilliest, populated by small terracotta pots of cold-hardy Senecio Haworthii Cocoon Plant. He runs his fingertips over the fine hair of the plant. They won’t produce their pretty yellow flowers for some time, but they’re sprouting up happily ahead of schedule.

Next shelf up is his favorite for the month, Kalanchoe Tomentosa. For now, these are the smallest, but they’ll grow nicely. The little buds will mature to become alluring, but dangerous; he doesn’t sell them to people with cats or kids or anything likely to eat it, because it’s super poisonous. Which is pretty killer, if you ask him.

Top shelf are his pride and joy, the Echinocereus Reichenbachii. The cacti are growing thick with mean spikes despite the poor conditions, and he grins. It’ll be hard to sell these beauties.

He never actually made it far enough in science classes for their technical names to mean dick to him, but he still calls each and every one by its given name. Writes them down, knows how to pronounce them, makes an effort to remember them. It’s a respect thing. It’s probably why they grow for him even in the cooler weather with only the protection of their shitty, ramshackle greenhouse.

He turns away, crouching to check the bed of soil on the floor. Heavy leaves and thick vines twist and curl through the dirt and onto the floor, yellow flowers dotting the green. A few yellowish pumpkins cling to the vines.

The bell on the door jingles, alerting him of his Mom’s arrival.

That, and her shrill voice rings out, “OH brrr, it’s cold as a witch’s tit outside! Feels so nice in here, huh, Mitchy?”

“Yup,” he calls back, trimming the dead leaves from the pumpkin plant and carefully shutting the door to the greenhouse to amble his way back inside.

“Gonna be a slow day, huh?”

“Mm,” he grunts. He’s not exactly looking forward to being here all day, yet again, just like every other day.

But supporting his mom’s dream is worth it. So it’s okay. As Henrietta pulls her hair up into a ponytail and lights her first cigarette of the day, he sighs. It’s gonna be a long one. Winter sales are painfully slow this time of year. Too far from Halloween from pumpkins, but they can’t grow that many anyway. Too wintery for gardens, because everyone’s content letting their summer flowers die off. Far, far off from the holiday season of holly and berry and poinsettia.

Flower shop limbo. What purgatory feels like, probably.

Henrietta busies herself all morning, humming and smoking while she makes pretty wreathes. Burlap bows and twine wrap her creations, brightened by the Indian corn and Sumac Mitch had fetched for her. He moves their larger plants and bushes around at his Mom’s command, and in no time he’s caked head to toe in dirt.

“I changed my mind, put that Little Henry on the top shelf and move the Brandywine out to the front, so people can see it.”

“In the window?”

“No, next to the doors! And look,” she holds up one of her creations happily, “so cute. Would this be nice on the door?”

“Yeah, I think it’d be perfect,” he responds, smiling a bit. Her excitement about the little things makes the terrible mundaneness of this place bearable. He lugs the Brandywine out to the front, shivering as a large gust whips down the narrow street. A shirt with sleeves probably would have been a good decision today, he thinks as he hangs Henrietta’s decoration on the door. As he’s lugging the second, inexplicably heavier Brandywine over their doorjam, he hears the quick shuffle of footsteps interrupt the silent morning.

Must be 9:30 already. The morning really flew by. Pretending not to look, he stares from the side of his eye at the figure ambling down the street. The boy wraps his jacket tighter around himself, ducking his head as the sharp winds blow his wild, chocolate brown curls around. The sun’s doing that thing it always does around this time, becomes bright and golden as the boy walks down the street, illuminating all the shop windows and catching the mailboxes.

Almost like the dark-haired boy himself is the sun, brightening everything for a single glorious moment before he ducks into the cafe across the street. Mitch sighs. Another day, another opportunity to talk to him passed because he’s too goddamn chicken. How long had he been watching him from afar? Maybe something like 8 months now. He’s thought about going into the cafe, ordering something for the chance to talk to the guy, but that’s too... forced. Lost in thought, he barely hears his Mom calling him from inside.

She’s hand-painted them a sign, “Freddie’s Flowers” in happy blue letters on white, and it’s his job to hang it above the stained red awning on the front of the building. He teeters on the very top step of a rickety ladder, his knees wavering as he grips nails between his teeth and hammers the sign into the wood siding. Another big gust of wind and he’s shaking, from cold and the shuddering ladder.

“Hey up there,” he hears a musical voice call. He looks down, squinting against the sunshine. Big green eyes and a shy smile greet him. The air is knocked from his lungs.

It’s the boy.

Mitch nearly inhales a nail as he drops the hammer, fumbling it in his hands and getting far too close to dropping off the ladder. He scrambles down, awkward, gangly limbs barely catching the rungs before his ratty sneakers hit the pavement.

The boy’s so small. Even prettier up close. A smattering of freckles adorns him, from the expanse of his smooth forehead, down the curve of his neck, then disappear under the collar of his sweater. His teeth are pearly, perfectly straight below his lips, and he’s still grinning. His curls are loose, wild, look like they feel so incredibly soft. He smells amazing.

Mitch hasn’t said anything for almost a solid minute, and the boy is starting to look slightly unnerved.

“Hi. Hey,” Mitch breathes.

“Hi,” the boy’s smile grows, “Are you Freddie?”

“Ah, no. I’m Mitch,” his words falter only slightly. It’s been years since he’s been called his brothers name.

“Oh, nice to meet you. I’m Jonas, I work- like, right there,” he finishes with a soft giggle, pointing across the street.

“Yeah, I know,” Mitch says automatically. “I see you- I see you most days, walking in,” he prattles, trying to recover as his face flushes red.

“I usually see you, too,” Jonas smiles softly, “but you’ve never come in, so I thought I’d bring something to you.” He raises a white cup, stamped with a picture of a Magnolia flower, and extends it out to Mitch.

Goddamn he fucking hates coffee. But he takes it, his freezing fingers brushing against Jonas’ as he takes it and knocks back a swig.

I mean, at least the boy tried to make it drinkable. There’s probably cream and sugar in it, but fuck, it’s still so disgusting. He keeps his face straight as the bitter liquid sits on his tongue.

“Thanks, it’s good,” he lies. “I needed this.”

“Yeah, I just thought you looked hot- COLD. I thought you looked cold. I thought you needed something hot. To drink. So I brought you coffee,” a blush is rising from Jonas’ neck, over his cheeks and up to his hairline as he sputters the words out.

“No, it’s perfect, I did,” Mitch responds quickly. “Thanks, thank you.”

They stay quiet for a moment, Jonas staring into the window of the shop, Mitch staring at Jonas.

“I’ll see you around then, right?” Jonas asks, cocking his head to the side and looking painfully cute.

“Yeah,” Mitch answers back far too quickly, then clears his throat. “Definitely.” They smile at each other for just a second before Jonas nods and turns away, walking quickly back into the cafe across the street. His heart is beating rapidly.

So that didn’t go amazing. He wasn’t smooth or flirtatious or charming like he had always dreamed he’d be when he finally got the balls to talk to Jonas, but it could’ve gone worse. He stares through the window of the cafe and takes another sip of coffee, using everything in him not to shudder at the taste. Through the window he catches Jonas’ green eyes on him again. They widen in embarrassment as he looks down and away, shuffling away from the glass. Mitch grins.

Yeah. That definitely could’ve gone worse.

The next day he comes in late, lugging a heavy box of plastic pots from their garden supplier and grunts his way through the backdoor. He’s in a shitty mood. Their supplier got them the wrong size pots, it had started to pour as he was loading them into the truck, and worst of all he didn’t see Jonas through the cafe window. He slings his apron over his neck lazily as he pushes his soaking wet hair back. Henriettas’ chattering away to a customer at the counter, but he doesn’t bother paying attention, standing on his tiptoes to pull a heavy Oakleaf Hydrangea from the top shelf someone had ordered earlier.

“Hey up there,” a familiar voice rings out, and he can’t control how fast he spins around with a grin.

“Hey! It’s- it’s Jonas, right?” Mitch asks, making like he hasn’t been repeating the name over and over in his head since the moment he heard it.

“Yeah. I needed some flowers for the tables, so of course I’d come here. I was... wondering where you were,” Jonas finishes quickly, staring intently at Mitch’s exposed arms then darting his eyes away to the bush.

“I had to pick up a delivery,” Mitch says, bending to place the plant down, “so what’re you thinkin’ for the tables?”

“Gosh. I have no idea,” Jonas lets out an embarrassed, breathy laugh. “Something... Fall-y? Yellow, or oranges maybe? Reds? I’m terrible at this stuff.”

“I have an idea. C’mere” he nods, leading Jonas to their fridge and bending to gather some stems. “I’ll do it. Just some sprigs, yeah?”

“Yeah, the vases are really small, and we have five tables,” Jonas leans down to watch what he’s doing, and Mitch stops breathing. He smells like warm bread and vanilla, and his hand lays softly on Mitch’s shoulder to balance himself.

“How’s, uh, how’s this?” he asks, raising a small arrangement. “Antique Rose, Foxglove, Agonis and some Privet Berries. It’s not really what you asked for, but-”

“No! No, it’s perfect. But how much-”

“Nothing. Consider ‘em payback for the coffee,” Mitch says, red face turned away from Jonas as the small hand squeezes his shoulder. His long fingers waver a bit as he wraps the arrangements with twine.

When he stands to hand them over, Jonas beams up at him. He’s breathless when Jonas’ fingers graze his, sending electricity down his arms as he thanks him for the flowers. The smaller boy walks out with a shy wave, and bids goodbye to Henrietta. Mitch watches him walk the entire way back to the cafe. His mom clears her throat and he looks over to her. She’s got a Cheshire grin.

“He’s cute as hell.”

“Right?”

“So ask him out!”

“Him? He’s way outta my league. I’ll just... keep givin’ him flowers. And drinkin’ that nasty coffee,” he makes a face. Henrietta shakes her head, smiling as she plucks a stem of Thistle from his t-shirt.

Jonas brings him a coffee the next morning.

And the next one.

And the next afternoon, when he comes in late again from delivery. He does the cafe’s flowers once a week as repayment. Months since their first meeting, Mitch still hasn’t gotten the courage to take anything further than a shy smile, a familiar hello, a kind favor. Though they don’t talk much, their encounters are always filled with touch. A soft, small hand on his bicep. Fingers grazing his and remaining on them just a second too long. Once he had even pulled a leaf from Jonas’ curls, knees weak at the silkiness of his hair.

One rainy day, when Jonas brings him a drink and turns to leave, Mitch catches his arm.

“Wait,” he says, and he swears when Jonas turns back around he looks hopeful. “I’m about to take a break. Do you... Wanna sit down with me?”

“Sure,” Jonas breathes back. Mitch drops his arm and leads him to the back, pulling out a folding chair and gesturing to it as he leans against the potting table.

“Sid’ll probably wonder where I am,” Jonas muses, but plops down in the chair as his eyes scan the ribbon wall, the bouquet wraps, the filler flowers in the cooler. Their knees are almost touching in the close space. He doesn’t stay seated for long before his eyes widen and he rises, brushing past Mitch to the cooler and pointing at a wedding arrangement.

“This is gorgeous!” he grins, and Mitch comes up behind him.

“Yeah, can’t take credit for that. That was my Mom... but I’ll make you one like that. If you want it.” One of his long arms is caging Jonas in against the cooler, the other places the coffee down and shoves into his pocket.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Jonas waves noncommittally and glances back at him.

“You... I dunno. You wouldn’t have to. Ask, I mean,” he’s fumbling and blushing.

“Why not?”

“Well,” he starts, his eyes on the back of Jonas’ neck as he stares into the cooler, “I like doin’ flowers for you. You appreciate ‘em.” Jonas laughs and turns, his back pressed against the glass and his front nearly pressed against Mitch. Bravely, Mitch doesn’t back up or retreat. He keeps close.

“That’s how I feel about bringing you coffee, too,” Jonas says almost dreamily, then hums out a laugh. “Feels nice.”

Jonas’ gem-green eyes are locked on his, and he’s melting. His skin sears as Jonas shifts against him, their torsos so close to touching, their hands knocking intermittently as Jonas moves and he feels a knee brush against his. It’s electric.

“I dunno... I feel kinda shitty,” he says honestly, staring down with adoration. Jonas’ eyes become alarmed.

“What? Why?”

“I mean... I’ve kinda been lyin’ to ya,” the words are said with a sheepish grin.

“About what?”

“You won’t get mad?”

“I hope not,” Jonas retorts with a cocked eyebrow. Mitch snorts.

“I... don’t like coffee.” He looks away, rubbing the back of his neck and casting his eyes down as Jonas inhales. He hears giggling, bubbly and musical but slightly muffled. Jonas’ freckled hand is over his mouth. He shakes his head as he brings the hand to run through his curls.

“I don’t believe it,” he says, still laughing softly, “I- I’m actually really allergic to flowers.” Mitch bites his lower lips and snorts, chuckling through his teeth as they both turn bright red.

“I like your coffee, though,” he says after an extended silence.

“Your flowers don’t bother me that much, either,” Jonas grins, so bright and gorgeous that Mitch can’t stand not touching him for a moment longer. He brings his hands up to cradle Jonas’ cheeks, reveling in the warmth of them under his cold fingers. Jonas’ smile drops, but his eyes brighten as they grow closer, close than they’ve ever been.

Mitch closes the gap quickly, his eyes slipping closed as he softens into the warmth of Jonas’ mouth. Arms wind around his neck and pull him closer as they kiss slowly, the world seeming to disappear. He could spend forever like this, only focusing on Jonas and his lips and skin and smell. He intends to, actually.

He teases Jonas lower lips with his teeth, tastes his tongue and presses them firmly together. Small steps close the gap between their bodies, and suddenly he’s pressing Jonas into the cool glass while hands stroke the back of his neck gently. Jonas’ panting is one of the most magnificent sounds he’s ever heard, that along with the soft whine which escapes him.

“Oh, Mitch,” Jonas moans, just above a whisper. He was enamored before, but now he’s beyond smitten hearing the sound of his name on Jonas’ lips.

“God, Joey baby, that sounds nice,” he sighs between their kisses, his heart fluttering as Jonas’ hands make their way into his hair. They’re in heaven, wrapped up in each other for what seems like an eternity, shutting off everything but the parts of themselves dedicated to the other.

A loud bang makes them jump and instantly they’re feet apart, wiping their swollen lips and blushing furiously.

“Mit- Oh fuck, shit, sorry! Keep goin’, sorry!” Henrietta raises her eyebrows, waving her hands and backing out of the door. Their breathing is heavy as they look back at each other.

“So. D’ya wanna... go out sometime? On a real date?” Mitch says, swallowing thickly.

“That sounds pretty great,” Jonas flushes with a smile, still out of breath. “We can go for coffee.”

“Yeah. I’ll bring flowers.”

[beatriceknowsthingshc]

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[mcdonoughhurst63-blog]

Do you desire cosplay female deadpool? read this overview!

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The last time we looked at drinking songs we divided them into two kinds, the upbeat, celebratory hymn to Bacchus and the introspective, dirge-like ode to alcohol as (to quote Homer—the Springfield one, not the ancient Ionian) “the cause of, and solution to, all of life’s problems.”

Our choice for the greatest drinking song of them all, Roger Ferris’s “The King is Gone (So Are You)” as cut by the mighty George Jones, fell firmly in the latter category, as do many of the greatest drinking songs. But the Bacchic hymns, packed as they are with exhilaration, disorder and anarchic freedom, have their moments, too.

Many of those moments are found in a subdivision of the category, the one devoted not to praising alcoholic beverages collectively or individually or to extolling drunkenness in general, but rather to celebrating and chronicling one particular drinking session. Call it—to use German, the language of genre theory and excessive drinking—the Sauforgienepos; the “swill-session epic.”

There are countless fine examples of the genre, from the Hibernian hilarity of the Dubliners’s “Finnegan’s Wake” (as cited in our previous article) to Virginia O’Brien’s jaunty toe-tapper, “Did I Get Stinkin’ at the Club Savoy,” from the 1942 film Panama Hattie, to “Drunk,” Jimmy Liggins’s monumental military-spec floor-pounder from 1953.

My favorite example, however, is “Peter and Paul,” a 1931 rarity by the Gene Kardos Orchestra that is both hotter than a shot of upcountry corn shine and also one of the weirdest songs ever recorded. The weirdness lies not in the music itself, the instrumentation or even the performance, but rather in the fact that it was recorded at all. Read the lyrics, given here in full, and you’ll see what I mean.

One summer day it came to pass

That Peter and Paul upon an ass

Went up to town to take a glass

And bum around Jerusalem

O Jerusalem,

O Jerusalem,

O Jerusalem,

Jerusalem the golden!

Then Peter started falling in:

“Come on, let’s have a hooker of gin.”

“Brother,” says Paul, “it would be a sin

To liquor in Jerusalem.”

O Jerusalem, etc.

But when they got into the bar,

Says Paul, “O look, Pete, here we are—

We must have followed the Hennessy star*

Instead of that of Bethlehem.”

[*Until the 1960s, a Cognac’s age was generally indicated by the number of stars on the label—ed.]

O-o Bethlehem, etc.

The barmaid had an ankle neat;

It soon began to get to Pete,

He grabbed her right behind the seat—

The seat of old Jerusalem.

O Jerusalem, etc.

Says Peter, “Paul, I have a notion:

Time to tend to my devotion.”

Says Paul, “you’re rolling like an ocean—

You’re all wet in Jerusalem.”

O Jerusalem, etc.”

Indeed. It’s not often you encounter scurrilous fanfic about the Apostles. What gives?

About the song itself, little is known. It was copyrighted—or at least the melody was—in November, 1931, by one “F. Arnold.” The label of Kardos’s recording—the only one the song has ever received—expands that “F” to “Florence.” After extensive searching, I believe that this is also the only song Florence Arnold ever copyrighted or published.

As to who she was, besides an impressive wiseass, I cannot say. There was a Florence Arnold, alias “the Irish nightingale” and “the blonde pony,” who sang and danced in vaudeville in the 1900s and 1910s and then married Charles Koster, the king of American circus publicists. Koster was a famous wiseass himself, and it wouldn’t be surprising if he married another one, but beyond that there’s no proof we’re talking about the same Florence Arnold or even if that was the composer of the song’s real name.

We know a little more about the song’s performers. Yugin “Gene” Kardos (1899-1980) is not one of the great names in jazz. He was neither a paradigm-shifting soloist nor a brilliant composer nor a flamboyant, larger-than-life personality. He was a Hungarian Jewish kid born and raised on the then-tough Upper East Side of Manhattan who lived with his parents. He talked with a thick, dese-dem-and-dose New York accent and had worked as a bookkeeper. But he could play the violin and the saxophone and he knew how to lead a band; how to keep it together; how to focus its energies; how to make sure everyone zigged when they were supposed to zig, zagged when they were supposed to zag, and went BRAP! BRAP! BRAP! with their horns precisely when they were supposed to go BRAP! BRAP! BRAP!

On the strength of that, Kardos got his Orchestra—any band too big to fit in the back of a taxi was an “orchestra” back then—a long-running gig at the Gloria Palast, a German dance hall on East 86th St., a contract with Victor records and a weekly half hour on national radio. In the depths of the Depression, that wasn’t nothing—indeed, those were the kinds of things that made most normal bands who had them famous.

That didn’t happen with these guys, although at first glance, Kardos’s band seemed perfectly normal. In its instrumentation, it was the standard eleven-piece dance band of its day. Two trumpets, a couple of guys who doubled on alto sax and clarinet, a tenor sax, a trombone, a rhythm section—banjo, tuba, piano and drums—and, of course, Kardos, who mostly waved a baton.

Most of the band’s material was pretty standard, too, at least on record: the way things worked, the A&R guy gave you the song and you played it, and most of those songs were corny, “synco-pep” (as it was sometimes called) dance numbers with novelty “vocal refrain.” For records, Victor even teamed the band up with Dick Robertson, their A-list vocal refrain-suppliers and a star in his own right.

It should have worked. I can’t say why it didn’t, but I think the recording session Gene and the boys held on October 23, 1931; the one where they cut “Peter and Paul,” gives us a pretty good clue, as does a band photo taken eight days later. The photo, which can be seen here, was admittedly taken on Halloween. But the band, although dressed in suits like everyone back then, come off as a bunch of stone punks.

One guy’s drinking a beer, a couple appear to be munching on sandwiches, all are disheveled and there is a disconcerting number of flat, “yeah, so?” stares into the camera, including from Kardos. The guy next to him, trumpeter Sid Peltyn, who appears drunk (and he’s not the only one) is pointing a toy gun at his head and leaning on a cane. He had the cane because he got shot in the leg during an affray at the Gloria Palast a few weeks before. Yeah.

During the session, they cut five songs, four of which were released. The one that wasn’t was a ditty called “Sweet Violets,” a novelty number where the verses set the listener up to expect the word “shit” only to have it replaced with “sweet violets.” Not funny, but indicative of the way things would go that day. I suspect the regular A&R guy, who was supposed to keep a tight leash on the proceedings, was hungover or out with the flu that day. In any case, the band did at least plod its way through an utterly forgettable ballad of the most commercial sort. But that left three songs: a college number, a thing called “You’ve Got to Sell It,” and our biblical Sauforgienepos.

They play “a Hot Dog, a Blanket, and You,” the college number, for laughs, throwing in a couple of made-up college cheers, one in a ridiculous falsetto (“Riddledy tiddledy tootsy toot / We are the boys of the institute / We are not rough, we are not tough, / But we are detoimined”). The other cheer, however, gives a clue to the amount of fuck you that the band, made up of nine Jews and two Italians, had in reserve:

Ikey, Moses, Jake and Sam

We are the boys that don’t eat ham

Baseball, football, swimming in a tank

We’ve got the money but we keep it in the bank!

At this point, Kardos closes things off by adding, in his East Side honk, “The only way to make us cheer / Is to give us back our prewar beer.”

“You’ve Got to Sell It” is a fast-tempo flag waver, as they used to be called, with the band riffing while Kardos explains the realities of the band business (“Now most people don’t know a good band when they hear it, good or bad / They most always say it’s the last woid when it’s really very sad … I’ve hoid some coahny bands who knock ‘em off theah seats / And I’ve seen Paderewskis kicked out in the streets”).

And finally, “Peter and Paul.” You don’t need electric guitars, leather jackets and bangs to play punk rock. With the right attitude, a mess of brass and reeds, a piano, a banjo and a drum kit will make plenty of noise. The blisteringly fast double time here, the chords punched out at maximum volume, the blaring trumpet solo, the shouted choruses, the scurrilous, even blasphemous subject matter, the drinking and the sex—pure punk. The Ramones didn’t come from nowhere.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/the-roots-of-punk-drinking-songs/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2019/04/20/the-roots-of-punk-drinking-songs/