#i still need to get a few other bits such as buttons and bias tape to bind the lapels

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Chapter 48: To The Secret Lab!

Becoming The Mask

Stephan's footsteps echoed more loudly than usual in the base's deserted hallways. He was tempted to change his gait, to step lightly so he'd make less noise, but on the other hand it wasn't smart to sneak up on a Changeling you weren't planning to fight. Anyway, the bag of canned goods he was carrying would clank no matter how he carried it.

"Bernie? It's Stephan," he called when he neared the laboratory. The doors were standing open.

"Excellent timing, I need some fresh eyes."

Stephan gulped. He was pretty sure Bernie meant 'a new person to look over things, because fresh perspective can catch something an older, more tired perspective missed', but it was also possible the Alchemist actually needed eyeballs for something.

"There's goggles by the door," Bernie continued.

Stephan put on a set, and after a moment's thought grabbed a hairnet as well.

His hair wasn't long enough to tie back easily but it was long enough to potentially get caught on something. It felt a bit silly to put goggles over his mask, but the lab safety rules were clearly displayed by the goggle rack – goggles and close-toed shoes were mandatory for entrance. There were some modified goggles and plastic booties for use while troll-shaped.

He left the grocery bag on an empty shoe-rack. It would be out of the way there.

"I wasn't sure what your food situation was, so I brought some stuff. Canned tuna, mostly." Cans were shelf-stable and could be eaten in troll or human shape.

"Thanks, Stephan. I'm well supplied, but it was thoughtful of you." Bernie was currently human-shaped, surrounded by neatly sorted rubble and writing something on a clipboard. "Xe/xir at the moment, by the way."

"Is that with an X or with a Z?" asked Stephan, not sure if there was a significant difference, but ready to believe there could be since Bernie was bothering to bring this up.

"An X. You know, you're one of maybe five people who've ever asked me that."

"Okay. Cool. Uh, he/him for me, still."

"Got it." Bernie made a decisive last pen stroke, clicked the pen, and turned to xir guest-slash-assistant. "I've been sorting pieces, checking to see if anything's recognizable. As you can see," gesturing towards on grouping of stones, "the hooves, legs, and loincloth can mostly be identified, as can the claws," indicating another, pointier collection. "But I can't seem to find Bular's horns or face. I keep recounting the skulls from his belt and checking our video footage of him to make sure I didn't mix him up with one of them somehow."

A set of skulls, on the table in front of Bernie beside the probably-legs, were either surprisingly intact or mostly reassembled.

Stephan was suddenly, vividly reminded of his early days on the surface, sorting jigsaw puzzles with his Familiar's family. His youngest sister in particular had had a knack for seeing which edges ought to match up.

"Do I need gloves?"

"Wouldn't hurt. I haven't been using them. They don't switch over properly." Bernie crackled blue, and the tall, hefty human became a tall, hefty troll – still small compared to a Gumm-Gumm, but probably quite respectably sized for whichever group xe'd been taken from – and held up xir hands to demonstrate.

Stephan could see why Bernie might have trouble with gloves. Xir hands were bigger now, for one, which would stretch out the latex if xe carried the gloves over through the transformation rather than having different gloves on as a troll, and then xe would have to change xir gloves once they changed to human – plus, Bernie had four-digit rather than five-digit hands as a troll, so the extra glove finger would either flap loose or need to be taped down, which would also increase the odds of the gloves being damaged after shapeshifting back and forth.

It was a lot of trouble to go through when you weren't working with something caustic or reactive to the oils in human skin.

"Why are you wearing … that, though?" Stephan asked, gesturing up and down.

Bernie's lab coat had carried over between forms. It was loose on xir as a human, and now fit better. The lime green coat, with neon pink and yellow flowers printed around the hem and on the cloth-covered buttons, had looked odd on a human and even stranger on a purplish-blue troll.

"Oh, I keep a bunch of colourful ones in stock, in case I'm ever running tests on someone who's had a bad experience in a lab and doesn't like the white coats. Attempted vivisection, usually. Gets people all mixed up, conflating Mad Scientists and Evil Scientists."

Bernie shook xir head.

"Vivisection is the stupidest starting point for a xenobiological study. Surgery is complicated. Aside from risk of infection and the complications of dosing anesthesia for an unknown organism – since they'll definitely die of traumatic shock if you don't anesthetize – looking at organs only makes sense if you already know what you're supposed to be seeing."

Xe paced around the lab, gesturing with the clipboard.

"At best, you'll set yourself up for confirmation bias about any superficial parallels between the new and the known, and at worst you'll have no idea what you're looking at and kill off your test subject. I mean, I understand if it's just a thinly-veiled excuse to commit torture for the sake of torture, but as a scientist that offends me for other reasons."

"… So, why are you wearing it now?" Stephan looked around, suddenly wary. "Do you have a live test subject down here?" How restrained are they? How vengeful are they?

Bernie seemed startled at the reminder xe was having a conversation rather than talking to xirself.

"Oh – no, I just got bored of how monochromatic the base is. Plus changing how I'm dressed helps keep the days from blurring together."

"Ah."

Stephan made a mental note to visit more often.

He started looking through the shattered remains. He didn't shapeshift. Stephan had a lot of protruding teeth in troll form, not just tusks, and it could be a challenge not to drool on things. His mask would catch some of it if he kept it on, but then he's be stuck in a slimy mask when he changed back.

He picked up each stone, one by one, and turned it this way and that. Sometimes he found an identifiable feature – an elbow spur, a shoulder ridge – and pointed it out to Bernie. That got part of one arm put back together, or maybe a smaller percentage of both arms. If Stephan didn't find anything distinct, he would carefully put the stone back exactly where Bernie'd had it before, and move on to the next one.

"It's weird that his swords aren't here," said Stephan after a while.

"He could've been disarmed in the fight."

"Yeah, but then Stricklander would've brought the swords back along with the body. And if they'd turned to stone with him, there should be – some sheets, or plates, or something. Flat rocks matching up to the blades. Those things were huge."

Unless …

"Unless the Trollhunter took them, after killing him," Stephan said slowly. "You know, battle trophies." His eyes were drawn to the row of skulls Bular had worn to show off his own battle prowess. "Hunting trophies … What if the reason we can't find his head, is because the Trollhunter has it?"

"Well, that would probably narrow down the cause of death to decapitation," said Bernie, in a detached, academic sort of tone. "Although that can also be done post-mortem, it would be more difficult to remove an intact head, since the stone is more brittle once it dies."

"Which could explain the state of the rest of the body." Stephan shuddered. Gunmar was going to be so angry …

+=+

After two searches through Bular's remains, Stephan could barely tell the stones apart anymore. It looked like there should be more than enough to rebuild Bular, but jigsaws always looked bigger than they were when the pieces were all spread out, and Stephan and Bernie still couldn't find Bular's head.

Stephan was leaning on his 'hunting trophy' theory. There had to be a reason their greatest enemy was called the Trollhunter, right?

Something beeped. Stephan, more tightly wound than he'd realized, jumped and turned trollish in a flash of silver.

He was dark grey, as a troll, with a crown of stubby lighter grey horns instead of hair. His mask got pushed away from his face by his overlong teeth. His goggles clattered to the floor. His ears went back at the additional noise.

"It's okay, Stephan," said Bernie, gently, as though to a spooked animal. "That just means it's break time. Come on." Bernie reached out as though to pat Stephan on the arm, though they were on opposite sides of the room. "I'm going to meditate. I'd rather not leave you alone in the lab, no offence."

Stephan blinked a few times and tried breathing slow and deep, to settle his heart rate.

"Okay. Yeah. Let's go."

Both of them changed to human form as they left the laboratory. Bernie sealed the blast doors and herded Stephan to the next floor up, to a small square room with a gramophone in the center and low white benches around the walls.

Stephan picked the bench opposite Bernie's, both Changelings with their sides to the door.

The record was moving slowly, though the needle wasn't touching it and neither Changeling had wound the crank on the side.

Bernie seemed entirely at ease, waiting, listening for the Pale Lady's voice.

Stephan tried to let go of the resentment that kept bubbling up inside him.

For all Bernie had seemed to be lonely and pining for conversation when Stephan first arrived, xe certainly didn't seem to need Stephan around anymore. Stephan had hardly proven his mettle with how he'd overreacted to a harmless alarm. Helping with the 'rebuild Bular' project was the one thing Stephan could do for the Order right now, and he had barely contributed.

He didn't know how to help.

He just wanted to help.

Please … he begged Morgana in his mind. My Queen. Your Ladyship. Mother. Tell me what you need of me. Let me know how I can help you.

A side compartment of the gramophone table opened. A drawer slid out.

Both Changelings got up and leaned in to look without touching anything.

The drawer held an orange crystal, faintly glowing. The room hadn't changed temperature or décor, but somehow felt more comfortable. Bernie got out a pen and touched the crystal with the button end. Nothing happened.

"Is this …" for us? Stephan couldn't quite say out loud. "Are we supposed to take it? Do something with it?"

"I think it's Heartstone." Bernie touched it with a pinkie finger this time. Again, nothing appeared to happen.

Stephan backed off and sat back down. Heartstone? Really? Here? How? That stuff was legendary. He'd only half-believed it was real.

Bernie turned trollish and touched the stone with xir last finger, to no visible effect, and then picked it up. The drawer closed itself and the compartment shut over it.

Bernie held the crystal out to Stephan and urged, "Touch it."

Stephan got up and followed Bernie's lead, transforming and tapping the crystal cautiously with one finger. He staggered back and sat again.

"Whoa."

If Heartstone was a thing, that was definitely what this thing was. Stephan had been overloaded with a sense of safety and contentment. It was actually kind of scary to think about once he wasn't touching it anymore – he would have let his guard down entirely to bask in whatever the stone was radiating.

Maybe it was actually some kind of trap?

Except a trap – if it was a lotus-eater type trap – the trap would logically drain his energy, and Stephan felt invigorated. He wanted to do something. He felt like he could do anything.

"It's supposed to enhance a troll's life force, somehow," said Bernie, waving vaguely with xir free hand. "Possibly like how reptiles need warmth to regulate their metabolism, or how humans need sunlight to produce Vitamin D. Or it could just be a stimulant."

"I heard Lord Gunmar was born from the first one," said Stephan. "Maybe that was a metaphor and trolls need … Heartstone radiation … to be fertile? That would explain why we aren't."

'We' meaning 'Changelings'. Although, if Stephan was right, maybe that meant Changelings could … become fertile? Probably not from a brief touch of a small stone, but, in the future, with regular contact?

Bernie was still holding it.

"If it feeds trolls, maybe it eats them as well," xe speculated. "Feeding troll remains into it could make it grow. Like how plants do best if there's decaying animal matter in the soil."

Stephan nodded. He'd skimmed an article in a gardening magazine a while back about using blood meal to grow better roses.

"There's some connection, I don't know what exactly, but I know it's there." Bernie turned the stone over with a thoughtful expression. "I wish I had more to experiment with. Ideally five. A control group with nothing, of course, one fed with analogous minerals that weren't sourced from a troll, one fed with Changeling dust –"

"You have –? What am I saying, of course you do."

"– one with Grave Sand, and one with Bular's remains."

Wait, what?

"I don't know if Otto would like that."

"That experiment would have to wait until after the autopsy," said Bernie, reminded once more that xe wasn't just talking to xirself.

"… Do you think it could bring him back to life?"

"Unlikely but possible."

Stephan had never encountered the undead, to his knowledge, but he made a point of bringing garlic-rich food into work at the crematorium, and keeping a box of salt in his desk. (He'd read somewhere that, if a zombie tasted salt, they would remember they were dead, go back into their grave, and resist further attempts to summon them.) He probably wouldn't have much to worry about in his troll form, but his coworkers did not share this advantage.

"You know," said Bernie, "if this is emitting anything, I could probably adjust a Geiger counter to pick up on it. Let's get it back to the lab."

+=+

Bernie's first step was to scan the Heartstone with every instrument the Janus Order had and record its exact dimensions. Stephan was more of a witness than an assistant for that part.

He felt much more useful during the Geiger counter modifications. Bernie needed an extra pair of hands for some steps, and neither of them were a troll type with more than two arms. Stephan did have a prehensile tail, but it had broken a few times back in the Darklands and he couldn't flex it very well anymore to deal with things in front of him.

The alterations to the machine were more magic than tech. Bernie opened up a few sections and moved things around, extracting wires and inserting crystals and writing tiny cramped symbols here and there. Stephan held things out of the way that weren't being fully removed, and balanced pieces while Bernie attached them, and moved the Heartstone around the room for Bernie to recalibrate various settings.

Bernie put in something like a compass below the dial, so the holder couldn't only see how strong and close the Heartstone's readings were, but also which direction it was in. The compass was a sphere of rutilated quartz, with the gold-coloured acicular inclusions all going the same way. The sphere's mounting let it indicate directions in three dimensions.

It took four tries and six hours to cobble together a working model. Short-range only. Despite the Heartstone's properties, which did not seem to fade after prolonged contact, Stephan was barely keeping his eyes open.

n a surprising show of trust, Bernie let him nap in the apartment connected to the lab while Bernie typed up a report on today's findings.

Well, maybe it wasn't so surprising. Stephan, asleep, would be in a far more vulnerable position than Bernie would be from allowing another Changeling unsupervised in xir private space. If Stephan tried to leave some sort of trap, or go snooping while tired and set off a trap Bernie had left, well …

Bernie was also the Changeling primarily in charge of making any poisons the local Janus Order branch couldn't get through human channels. Stephan taking advantage of Bernie's trust would end far worse for him then it would for xir.

In any case, Stephan accepted the risk and took the nap, not wanting to drive home while tired. Bernie woke him half an hour later, and they went together to return the Heartstone piece to the gramophone room and to drop off a report in Otto's office.

Stephan carried the Geiger counter so Bernie could get a better idea of its range. It lost track of the Heartstone piece once they were most of the way down the hall. Bernie's hands were occupied with paperwork and a set of lockpicks. It was funny to see lockpicks carried so openly.

"Do you often break into the offices?" asked Stephan.

"I'm nearly certain I've been in every room of this base at least once."

"Recently?"

"I have been living down here. It's in my interests to double-check the security systems."

Stephan kept his eyes from rolling too obviously, but felt his mouth twitch in a small, brief grin.

When Otto's door opened, the Geiger counter – Bernie said xe was going to rename it, xe just hadn't yet – began beeping up a storm. The Changelings looked at each other and followed the compass needle to a bookcase, then a specific shelf, and finally behind a book.

"Well," said Bernie, "now I can double-check all my readings. I'll have to revise my report."

"How many more Heartstones are hidden around the base?" Stephan wondered.

"We should do a sweep. It'll probably take a couple of days. When do you have to leave and when can you next be here?"

"I have this week off. I can stay until," Stephan checked the date on his phone, "nine tomorrow evening before I'm expected anywhere." He and some work friends were planning to go to a bar for trivia night.

"Alright. We'll head back to the lab and you can take another nap while I do the scans and report revisions, and once you're awake we can sort out the order of the sweep."

"I should be good to go for –"

"You can't collect accurate data while sleep deprived."

"When's the last time you slept?"

"I woke up about ten minutes before you got here."

That explained why the laboratory had smelled of coffee.

+=+

Previous Chapter (Shattered King backstory, as commemorated by the Quagawumps)

Table Of Contents

Next Chapter (Jim gets Gunmar's Eye)

[we-are-the-rebellion]

Everything Is Gonna Be Fine - File 001

Date: 14/4/215

Outgoing message: Hello? Hello? Can anyone hear me? Is there anyone in the wasteland listening to me? Fuck, this is hopeless...  We don’t even know if people are alive out there, we’ve never left the region because of the horror stories we’ve heard. CeeCee are you sure? ...Yeah, right. Ahem! I’m Nate, I’m from the Eastern OQ region, and for the last ten years I’ve been fighting in, well to put it lightly, a pretty nasty civil war. The group I was with has been mostly killed or captured and our leader is missing, presumed dead. Please, if someone is out there and can hear this, we need supplies. Wait what’s- Shit! CeeCee get down they found- 

___________________________

Date: 10/6/215

Location: Prison Complex, Ottowa, Ontario-Quebec Region

   Nate sat, unmoving in the uncomfortable wooden chair he was cuffed to, staring at the woman across from him. She was sitting casually, one leg crossed over the other, smoking a cigarette. Everything about her said “status,” her perfectly styled hair, her polished gold jewelry, her immaculately manicured nails, her expensively tailored black dress, even the cigarette. Alcohol and tobacco weren’t rare, but it was exceedingly difficult to find anything of any quality if you weren’t at the absolute top of the food chain. This woman was beautiful, powerful, and everything about her sent a very clear message that she didn’t give a damn about Nate. Of course, he was used to this. From day one, the rich looked down on him. His parents got into the government to spread compassion and acceptance and encourage reform, it was only inevitable that they would be killed off and their name dragged through mud.

   The woman flicked her cigarette onto the floor and put it out with her heel. 

   “So. Not willing to talk yet?” she asked, checking her nails. Nate chuckled.

   “I’ve seen more interrogators in the last three weeks than I’ve had birthdays, there’s no way some rich old bag is going to make me talk.”  He swallowed. Life, he really sounded like Kenji, didn’t he?

   “Rich old bag?” she laughed.  “I’d heard you were an idiot, but I never thought you would be blissfully ignorant. Don’t you realize who I am?”  Nate gritted his teeth.

   “Of course I know who you are.”  She smiled in response, the corner of her lip twisting up in a nauseatingly smug smirk.

   Genevieve Ashworth. The Empress of the medical sector. A person so genuinely hateful that even the other monsters she rubbed elbows with on a daily basis lived in awe of her cruelty.

   “Why you? Why did Pryce send you to make me talk?”  She shrugged.

   “Because he knew I could. Simple as that.”

   “So now what? You going to electrocute me? Hold my head underwater until I can’t breathe? Or maybe you’ll do something more suited to your regular style and inject me with a deadly disease and dangle the fucking cure over my head until I tell you everything?”  She stared him down silently.  “Or are you going to use me as a lab rat to test your new drugs and vaccines on? And fuck, the real torture would be the knowledge that you wouldn’t even use them for good!” he shouted, leaning forward and wincing as the handcuffs bit into his hand. Huh, he really did sound like Kenji...

   “I’m not going to hurt you, Nathaniel.” she replied after a long silence. The lack of any emotion in her voice sent a shiver down Nate’s spine. She lit another cigarette and stood up, circling around the small room to stand behind him. To his surprise, she pulled out a key and uncuffed his hands. He rubbed his sore wrist tenderly with his left hand, the cool metal of his prosthetic hand soothing the stinging skin.  “I’ve seen Carson’s interrogations, and frankly I think he’s got the wrong idea. Torture isn’t universal, some people just don’t respond to physical pain in the way he wants. Your friend Hirayama was a perfect example of that. No, your methods have to be tailored for your subject if you want results. After all, we didn’t get the leader of the rebellion to abandon his entire life’s work just because we beat him senseless.” 

   Nate felt a pit form in his stomach. If Kenji had been captured and tortured, it would explain his disappearance. But what did she mean by abandoning his life’s work? 

   “What is this?” he muttered, defensively keeping his hands at his sides.

   “We have tapes of his interrogations. In fact, I wanted to show them to you, so sit back and get comfortable.” 

   She pulled a small remote control out of her pocket and pressed a button, turning on a projector on the far wall. Nate turned around to see what it was showing. It was security camera footage of two armed guards standing in front of a man who, despite the blurry footage, was clearly Kenji. One of the guards knelt in front of Kenji, the other pulled out a small voice recorder.

   “October 16, 214. Subject; K. A. Hirayama.”

   Wait... This was last year?

   “Tell us, cunt, where were you on the day your friends blew up a city block?” the first guard growled.

   “Your wife’s bedroom.” Kenji snapped, spitting in the guard’s face. The guard hissed and hit his prisoner across the face. Kenji coughed and Nate could see blood. 

   “Cooperate, else that’s gonna feel like a kiss in comparison to what I’m gonna do to you.”  Kenji chuckled.

   “My ex accused me of being a masochist. Guess she’s right, since I really, really want you to hit m-”  He was cut off by the guard hitting him again, much harder than before. Where there was only a little blood on his bottom lip before, now there was blood everywhere, gushing out of his nose and his split lip. The second guard stepped closer to him.

   “Aren’t you tired of this? We’ve been doing this song and dance for nearly a week.” 

   A week? How the fuck had Kenji been gone for a week and he couldn’t remember it? Did nobody bother to check where he was? 

   “I am tired. But I’d rather let you shoot my balls off one by one than let you anywhere near my revolution.

   “You think quite highly of yourself, don’t you?”  Kenji scoffed.

   “As if you rich pricks don’t all think of yourselves as fucking royalty.”  The first guard hit him again, shutting him up effectively. 

   “But what have you done, really? You’ve gotten scores of people killed in this war you started, and nothing is better. Your friends aren’t in better positions than they were twenty years ago, in face they’re doing considerably worse now that the threat of being arrested and killed is constantly looming over their heads. Nothing is better for people like you. Twenty years of fighting tooth and nail, and you haven’t accomplished anything.” the guard taunted him, motioning for their counterpart to step back. Kenji spit the blood out of his mouth.

   “People have hope. That’s a start. And more importantly they’re seeing through your bullshit propaganda! Even if I’m gone, even if you kill my rebellion, in a month or two people will start a new one, because they realize that things could be better. How’s that for what I’ve fucking accomplished.”

   The footage ended.

   “So you’ve made your point, pain doesn’t work. Now what?” Nate snapped, folding his arms and scowling. Genevieve blew out smoke into his face.

   “I was hoping we could move on from that talking point. There’s still more tapes, and if you’re worried you’ll get bored of interrogations then you should quite like them.”  Life, Nate hated this woman so fucking much. She pressed another button and a new video began. It was Kenji again, brutally beaten and stumbling around outside the prison complex. The camera was posted high on the wall, giving Nate a perfect bird’s eye view of Kenji’s awful condition. He was looking over his shoulder, anxious, and he had a phone held up to his ear.

   “Pick up, fuck pick up...” he was muttering. He slumped down against the wall and winced, tenderly holding his bleeding side.  “Finally, you fucking answered!” he snapped into the phone.  “I need you to send someone to come pick me up, I’m at the prison. I don’t have much time, I... What do you mean you don’t fucking believe me?”  Nate couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but he didn’t need to. He remembered that call. His stomach twisted into knots. Whatever was going to happen next, it was his fault.  “Oh so that’s it? You’re pissy that I didn’t show up so you’re gonna let me fucking rot here? Life, you’re such a fucking moron! I’m in danger, Nathaniel, I don’t have time to argu- Don’t hang up on me you fuck- DAMMIT!”  He threw his phone on the ground with enough force to break it. He leaned his head against the wall and looked up at the sky, looking angry, hurt and exhausted.  “I know you’re watching this, you elite shits. Having fun watching me bleed out?” he shouted sarcastically at the security camera. Nate felt sick. That was why he hadn’t noticed Kenji was gone. He had been avoiding him anyways, they had been fighting. He had let his stupid emotional bias get in the way, and Kenji had gotten hurt because of it. This was Genevieve’s plan, wasn’t it? To make him feel like shit. 

   The footage cut again, and the next video after it was back in the interrogation room. Kenji was being held up by one of the guards from before while the other shocked him with a taser. He was screaming, but his voice was so hoarse that it was clearly hurting him every time he opened his mouth. 

   “You know, we were going easy on you before, we only broke a few bones. You still managed to escape, and you even took down a couple guards. Now? Now, we’re going to make sure you wouldn’t be able to walk out of here if the doors were wide open.” the guard with the taser said as they walked around, fiddling with the settings.  “Let’s see how you like the highest setting, eh revolutionary?” 

   Nate had to look away. He didn’t want to see Kenji in that much pain, especially knowing that he could have stopped it from happening. But he heard it... He could hear the man he cared about so damned much, despite everything, screaming. His hoarse voice didn’t impact the volume, it was so loud, so intense. Nate couldn't handle hearing Kenji in that much agony. He snapped.

   “What do you want? To just screw with me, make me sit through videos of my partner being tortured? Fine. Fuck with me all you want. I’m not gonna break.”

   Genevieve only stared him down. She turned off the video and took another drag on her cigarette.

   "You don't think I know that?" she asked coldly, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "You've watched the people you love die your entire life. You live in a world where pain is the expectation. Seeing clips of him being tortured won't do anything but make you want to do anything but help me less. No, this is about making a point. About leading up to one specific moment."

   Nate felt completely enraged. This woman, this bitch, really found it so amusing to just toy with him?

   "If this is about making a point then make your fucking point." he snarled. She laughed quietly to herself.

   "If you insist. Although personally I think it's more fun to experience the whole thing."

   She turned the projector back on. The video showing this time wasn't security cam footage, it looked crisp, clean, expensive. There was a small group of producers and technicians scurrying around, adjusting mics, doing sound checks, setting up other cameras then adjusting them so they were never in the shot. Once everything had been set up, they brought in their subject; Kenji, wearing an entirely black suit and red tie. His face was slightly bruised, but it was nowhere near the condition it had been in the other videos. This had been filmed well after his face had had time to heal.

   A phone rang in the background.

   "That's our cue!" shouted one of the crew members. A small old woman came into frame and quickly adjusted Kenji's tie and hair. She pulled out a small clip on microphone and clipped it onto his collar before scuttling out of frame again. Kenji sat in total silence, not even looking up. He looked empty, as if the elites had cracked him open and carved out everything he had inside him. It made sense. Why else would he be wearing that suit in front of a green screen, three cameras worth more than everything he owned put together focused on him?

   A voice in the background called out commands. "Lights! Sound!" Kenji tapped the microphone on his collar. The sound came out strange and distorted. He nodded to someone off camera and then put his hands on the desk in front of him.

   “And we’re live in 5, 4, 3, 2...”  On one, the overhead lights switched off. Kenji was framed in the shot as a silhouette, and Nate felt himself stop functioning as he realized what this was. When the Leader made broadcasts, it was never just him talking to the camera. They always concealed his face and voice, he was always just a shadow.

   “Hello citizens. It’s me, here to tell you that that disgusting rebellion that has plaguing our society for so long is finally over. Just moments ago, the very last of their filth was arrested and killed. No more of their garish, crass music being blared in the streets. No more attacks. No more fighting. Only you, beautiful citizens, and us. Your government. Your protectors.”

   Nate couldn’t believe what he was seeing. That broadcast had been the symbolic end of the rebellion, the moment that made everyone who still clung onto hopes for the revolution being a success give up. All the last supporters were turned in, or they turned themselves in, and arrested. It was the final blow, and Kenji had been the one who pulled the trigger. It took the wind out of Nate’s lungs, he had to sit down. 

   “No... No you... You faked the footage. This is one of those fucking deepfake videos, I researched it. Before the war they had the technology to generate this shit with computers, you just... You uncovered it. Kenji wouldn’t... He didn’t...” he blurted out, trying to rationalize everything to himself. Genevieve smirked.

   “I always find these behind the scenes videos to be so fascinating. Really gives you insight into how things were made.” she said coolly, absentmindedly scratching a spot on her arm.  “I actually got one better, I was there when this was filmed. He was so willing to cooperate, he didn’t even waste any time rehearsing his lines.” 

   “Shut up! Shut the fuck up you harpy!” he snapped back, shouting and blinking away the tears stinging his eyes. She shrugged.

   “You told me to make my point, and that was it.”  She brought her cigarette to her lips.  “You rebels lived in a naive little fairy-tale world where you followed your leader as if he had all the answers. You can try and disagree, but be honest. You would have taken a bullet for him. You have taken bullets for him, because you believed he was going to always do what was right for his cause. Here is video proof that he was just as much of a coward, a regular person whose morals can and will be dropped at any time, as anyone else. This is my point, Nathaniel. Nobody is special, not even your precious Kenji Hirayama.” 

   Once she had finished talking, she called in a guard and had her prisoner cuffed and escorted away. Nate gritted his teeth the whole way back to his cell, his hands as tight fists at his sides. His nails were digging into his palms, but he barely felt the pain. He could only feel hatred and resentment. For Genevieve, obviously, but not just her. He was angry at Kenji for betraying the rebellion that he had risked his life to keep alive, and he was angry at himself for ever believing Kenji was better than that. When he got back to his cell, he slumped onto the floor with a heavy thud. He stretched awkwardly in the cramped space. Life, his shoulder was sore...

   “Hey... Nate, you back?” called a voice softly from the air vent next to him. It was CeeCee, she had found a way to talk to him through the vents. 

   “Yeah, I’m back.” he replied, sighing and slumping further onto the ground. 

   “How bad was it today?” she queried gently. Nate chuckled weakly.

   “Fucking terrible.” he mumbled. She sighed.

   “Same here. Like they didn’t even hit me or nothin’, but... Fuck. I just feel like shit.”  Nate furrowed his brow.

   “What’d they say to you?”

   “Just...���  She hesitated, and he could hear her breath hitch.  “They took me to Zander’s room. He wasn’t awake, and he was hooked up to all these tubes and monitors. He was fucking dying and they... They almost unplugged his life support right there in front of me. And if I didn’t know that Zander would’ve rather unplugged it himself before I said jack shit, I-I almost told ‘em. I almost said everything they wanted to hear.”  Nate could hear her sobs, muffled by the vent but still clear enough to break his heart.

   “Oh CeeCee... I’m so sorry.”

   “It ain’t your fault, Nate.” she mumbled back, sniffling. 

   The two of them sat in silence for a while, not sure what to say.

   “Apparently Carson managed to convince Kenji to read that last public broadcast for him.” he said quietly, just wanting to get it off his chest. CeeCee exhaled, clearly also just as shocked as he had been by the revelation.

   “Shit...” she muttered.

   “Heh, yeah. It’s fucked.”  Nate swallowed as a few tears managing to escape and roll down his face.

   “How the world did they manage that?” CeeCee wondered. Nate chuckled.

   “I dunno...”  He felt a wave of emptiness rock through his core.  “But if I ever see him again I’m going to fucking kill him.”

_______________________

Tag list:

@germanmetal @thereasontherumisgone​

//if you want to be notified when this updates let me know 

[similianonyme]

KH3 Sora’s jacket construction process

Hi everyone! This is Tory, the most talkative one behind Simili Anonyme! Yeah, I know, we’ve both been preeeetty quiet lately. What can I say, we are busy people. Anyway, I made this thread on Twitter (@floracoquelicot) and I thought it could be cool to share this here as well since Tumblr makes it easier to find old posts, and this might be helpful!

So Salt (ShioOuji) and I did and art trade lately, which led me to the making of Sora’s jacket. I will detail the process as much as I can right here. Feel free to DM me if you need any other information :D

***

Teaser :

***

Costume : Sora (Kingdom Hearts III)

Time elapsed : ~65 hours (spread on 8 days)

Yelling and saying I will give up : none this time (yay!)

***

Step 1 : Gathering your references.

So you wanna cosplay Sora, right? Good! What you first need to do is getting to know the clothes you’re willing to make. I’m going to focus on the jacket here, and trust me, depending on which reference you’re using, it’s going to look different.

On the first picture, the jacket looks like it’s mostly made of leather/pleather. On the second one, it looks a lot more this the usual mysterious Nomura Fabric that I feel looks like a lot like neoprene. You can see two flaps with plaid fabric, going around the zipper ; this means they are sewn behind the zipper. The jacket is lines with black fabric, it has some pretty big pockets and golden buttons. Only one zipper, of a very respectable size, which is almost surprising, and the sleeves are bicolor. I must say, knowing Nomura’s love for ridiculous outfits, this one looks pretty normal.

The reference I used the most, though, is one from @art-antonioalvz giving a whole look at the jacket (as well as the trousers for y’all artists) https://art-antonioalvz.tumblr.com/post/159503686722/i-made-a-cosplay-reference-guide-for-soras-kh3 (even though I am crediting and linking it, if you feel like that’s just reposting feel free to message me and I’ll remove the pic, it just felt clearer for the explanations!)

This picture is incredibly helpful mostly because you get to see the sides, which is not something you’ll easily find in your reference pictures quest.

Got all your references ready? Let’s move onto stage 2!

-----

Step 2 : chosing your fabrics

I have worked with 9 different fabrics for this jacket. Here is how I broke down the jacket:

Main shape (black)

Pocket (grey)

Pocket bias tape (white)

Horizontal band (white)

Horizontal band -  Vertical band - Sleeves band (red)

Middle of sleeves (grey)

Plaid fabric (Black & Red)

Bias tape (grey)

Lining (black)

Picking the right shade might sometimes be a bit tricky, so make sure to get samples to compare them, as they might look different from what you see on screen!

Just look at all these shades and swatches!

Now, about the fabrics I used: the idea behind this jacket was that it wasn’t made to be a costume, but something to be worn IRL. So instead of trying to be completely accurate with my fabrics, I picked something more casual, comfy, warm, that would feel great to wear. And who doesn’t love a good jersey? (I sure do). Jersey is stretchy, thick, and not too hard to use. Make sure you own some Stretch needles for your sewing machine though!

The red, black and sleeve grey fabrics are jersey fabric. I did not keep track of where I bought them, but they are pretty thick with a fluffy, plushy side on the wrong side. My white bias tape is some leftover stretch bias tape I bought at my local fabric store. The white fabric I used for the bottom line is a very thick neoprene fabric. The pocket fabric is some dark grey neoprene. The lining is a thin black cotton, really soft on the skin. The plaid fabric is something I designed using Spoonflower. You can get it here(click!) if you’d like. Add 6 buttons of your liking (I used bronze snaps, will explain later why), a silver/grey/black zipper, and you’re good to go!

Okay, so now we’ve know what we want and we know what we’ll be using to make it. What are we missing now?

---

Step 3 : The pattern

There are different ways to use a pattern for a costume.

You might never use patterns. If you are really comfortable with draping and are used to understand and draw shapes just by looking at them, this step might be useless for you and you can jump to step 4.

You can make patterns based on clothes you own. Turn the outfit inside out and draw the shape of each piece on paper, following the seams. Don’t forget about the seam allowance! You will need to cut bigger pieces to sew along the lines.

You can use pre-made patterns. That’s the option I chose. I’m really bad with sleeves and not really used to hoods, so I decided to buy a pattern made for this costume.

Here’s the one I got.

This pattern was made by Anh Cosplay, and you can buy it here(clic). It includes a PDF for the jacket and the trousers in different sizes, explanations on how to sew them, costs $9 and is super helpful. Anh also sells many other pattern on her shop so make sure to have a look!

And now we’re good to go!

---

Step 4 : Making the costume.

Okay, now everyone works differently. I will explain how I worked, but by no means this is the best or the only way.

The first thing I did was, using the pattern, making the lining. Some people like to make mockups first with a cheaper fabric to make sure the size is right. That’s somehow what I did with my lining - I had a lot of that cotton and I could redo things if I didn’t like them.

I cut the pieces, pinned them, tried it on, stitched them together with some lose stitches, tried it on again, readjusted a few things until I was satisfied, and then sewed them together. And tried it on. Never enough checking that everything’s fine!

Alright! Now that we have our jacket lining done, it is time to work on the outside. The process is the exact same, and I would suggest following the pattern instruction if you bought it.

As I said, trying things on will help make decisions. What you can see here was my first try for the plaid, which I didn’t like very much. I also felt like the flaps from Anh’s pattern were too big and didn’t fit the proportions I wanted to achieve. This is why I resulted to design my own fabric, using Spoonflower.

Designing isn’t always right from the first time, and it actually took me a few tries to get what I wanted ;)

As I mentioned before, this one is made for casual wear. Which means I wanted it as convenient as possible. There are many options for the buttons (that, while not being oversized, are still kind of big), but I went for snaps for a practical reason : that way, you can fold the flaps inside the jacket and can zip the jacket aaaall the way up!

When the flaps are inside the jacket, you can zip it up. Convenient when you’re cold!

Make sure to sew the pockets and the buttons-snaps-whatever before adding the lining! Same thing if you want to add inner pockets or anything you’d like ; once the lining and the outside are sewn together, there is no going back. (I mean, there is, but it’s a hassle)

The flaps are sandwiched between the zipper and the lining. From the picture above, you have your layers like this : Red-Zipper-Flaps-Lining.

I handsewed a few pieces :

Stitching the top (white) of the pockets to the black fabric, and the bottom red line to the lining.

Sora has some decorative horizontal stitching on some pieces (the white one and the red ones) but I didn’t trust myself to get lines straight enough to look good, so I didn’t do them.

And voilà!

We have a lovely jacket, a bit heavy (it is just under 900g) but oh so comfy. I cannot wait so send it out to the Saltdom where I know it will be loved and well taken care of <3

I hope this was at least a bit interesting! My DMs are always open if needed. Now it is time for me to fall back into Oblivion! (which is apparently where I live, housemates are a bit weird but they’re okay)

(and if you ever wanna see more cosplays by me, you can find me on Facebook as Tory Cosplay(click!) :DDD )

[nativeamerican]

Tribal College Week

Every winter, during the second week of February, tribal college presidents, student representatives, and a myriad of others passionate about tribal education trek out to Washington, DC to visit Capitol Hill for National Tribal College Week. This week, also referred to as the American Indian Higher Education Consortium (AIHEC) Winter Meeting, is an intense hive of advocacy, House and Senate meetings, and networking. Everyone who attends these meetings serves the larger purpose of moving tribal colleges forward, which in turn helps move Native communities forward.

One of the more compelling aspects of the winter meeting is the unique role that students play. Each of the 37 tribal colleges and universities (TCUs) participating can choose to send a student or students to DC; these students then accompany their college’s representatives to various advocacy workshops, committee hearings, and congressional delegation meetings. It is at those meetings where the key mission that students serve becomes apparent. This is where they share their tribal college journey with others. By sharing their own narratives, students are empowered and provide a moving testament to the diverse and often misunderstood impacts of TCUs.

OWNING MY STORY

In 2014, as the outgoing Diné College student body president, I was fortunate enough to receive an invitation to AIHEC’s winter meeting. I admit I wasn’t entirely sure what “Capitol Hill advocacy” entailed; words like advocating, legislating, and policymaking can sometimes take on nebulous definitions. After some prodding for a clearer description of my role, I was informed that I would be there to share my story about how tribal colleges affected me.

I spent the next few weeks mulling over this, namely, how would my story benefit anyone? It’s a winding and weird narrative. It lacks the glamour of Western success and perfect scores; it is void of the genius of wunderkind and the cheery comfort of normal. Dormant worries that I held prior to stepping foot on a tribal college campus began to creep in. Worries that I wouldn’t talk right, I wouldn’t look right, I wouldn’t act right. I just wouldn’t be right.

Up until that point, my knowledge of AIHEC revolved primarily around the annual spring student conference, which is a large gathering for tribal college students to bond and compete in various events. I attempted to compensate for my unfamiliarity with AIHEC by poring over the organization’s website and various related links mined from Google searches, hoping to gain more insight as to what I would be getting involved in. One of the most informative resources is AIHEC’s preliminary pre-meeting webinar. From logistics such as hotel accommodations and meeting times to detailing advocacy strategies and underscoring the key goals of the meetings, the webinar helped us prepare for Capitol Hill.

This preparation certainly helped me navigate the alphabet soup that is DC vernacular: from DOI, BIA, BIE to AICF, AIMS, TCUP, the acronyms flow freely. It also helped me grasp the general idea of what higher education funding looks like in the federal context. Yet, one thing that reading material couldn’t prepare me for was the sheer scope of issues surrounding American Indian higher education. While AIHEC’s importance is evident at the student conference, the organization’s power and magnitude are on full display in Washington, DC. From highly scheduled itineraries packed with meetings with U.S. Senators and House Representatives to the breadth of institutional knowledge TCU presidents shared during our visits, National Tribal College Week was like a deep-sea dive for someone like me who was used to splashing around in puddles.

FINDING MY PLACE

In a place like Capitol Hill where there is an array of issues at any given moment, it can be easy to get lost in the shuffle. Tribal colleges in particular face an assortment of unique issues that are often overlooked or else misunderstood—whether because of a complete disregard for community definitions of success or a clumsy attempt to measure us with the wrong metric. By having students there in person, sharing their own stories, whole new dimensions can be added to people’s perceptions of what a tribal college is and what success truly means to some of us.

Yet how would or could my story benefit anyone when it feels so undone and unpolished? How does one package all of the confusion, anger, frustration, elation, and joy I’ve experienced into a neatly composed soundbite? You simply must speak of what you know.

In my case, what I knew was how at Diné College someone told me for the first time that I was more than smart, that I was a “good egg.” How I had a bed and a room and I didn’t have to worry about where I was going to sleep for the next few months. How I could just focus on the tasks at hand and how I was free to pursue my curiosities and figure out what I wanted. How I could ask questions and people didn’t chide me for not knowing what the GRE was or how to fill out an application for federal student aid. Nobody tried to touch my hair, tell me about their Cherokee princess grandmother, or refer to me as Pocahontas. Nobody gasped when I talked about my childhood like it was some absurd reality or pushed me to leave the reservation for “opportunity.” Instead, people encouraged me to create opportunity on the reservation. I went to school with students who understood, with faculty who understood.

SOME ADVICE FOR THE JOURNEY

If I am able to provide advice for tribal college students on the AIHEC winter meeting, I would say first that if you are offered this opportunity, take it. In fact, with most opportunities in life, take them. Don’t be swayed by the “imposter syndrome”: don’t fall into the self-defeating trap of questioning whether you look or sound the part, wondering what you have to offer, or worrying about measuring up to others. Remember, your story is important. You matter.

The second tip is to take advantage of this opportunity to network with other students and organizations in Washington. On the first day of Tribal College Week, there is an open AIHEC Student Congress (ASC) meeting held at night to which all students are invited. I realize the lure of sightseeing around the nation’s capital or going out to eat is tempting, but you will have other chances to do that during the week. Attending the ASC meeting is the main opportunity to voice your opinions to your peers, to brainstorm, to network, to hear what is going on at other TCUs, to talk to your student congress and find out how you as a student are represented. And find out why you are there! What are the priorities that AIHEC is looking to promote? You want to be prepared and informed. Check the AIHEC website periodically before your trip for more information and any changes to the itinerary.

Another piece of advice: dress professionally. Wear clothes that make you sit up just a little bit straighter, whether that means traditional wear or an ironed button-down with your grandmother’s necklace. During my first trip to Washington, I didn’t have a clue what to wear, as my closet was primarily host to faded hoodies and beat-up sneakers. I couldn’t afford to invest in a suit at the time, but I was able to find a blazer at a thrift store. I proudly wore jewelry from my family and paired this with my wrapped moccasins that I had made in class. I recall the seam breaking on my moccasins and borrowing dental floss from a student at the hotel so I could repair them at the last minute.

I admit I had never worn a suit before and at first I felt nervous, like I was committing fraud by wearing such a costume. I had this ridiculous worry that someone would see me in my suit and just know that I didn’t belong. Granted, I did find out the hard way that you’re supposed to cut those white strings on the blazer vents and that you should never substitute tape for a lint roller. But the point of this is to be proud and comfortable in what you are wearing, whether it’s a thrift store blazer or a woven biil dress. Your clothes merely serve to border the picture that is you and your story. Your words and how you conduct yourself are really what matter.

Also, keep in mind the amount of security you will have to go through at the numerous government buildings. All your metalware, from belts to large jewelry, will have to come off each time you need to enter a building, and there will usually be a line of people waiting to get through the metal detectors behind you.

As for the weather, it rains a lot and sporadically so it might be worth packing a small umbrella. It is also winter in DC during Tribal College Week and therefore pretty cold, so bring a heavy jacket or wrap. In 2014, I thought I was being clever by just bringing a rain coat, thus saving me the hassle of dragging along my winter coat. However, the “snowpocalypse” storm quickly refuted this. We landed on a Sunday to clear skies and by Monday it was gray, with snow quickly piling up and intermittent freezing rain. We still had to walk to our meetings, albeit much more quickly. Don’t risk it: bring a coat—and gloves.

During your visits be on time! If this means setting multiple alarms and asking the hotel to provide you with a wakeup call, do it. Time in DC is monochromatic; things are very exact and focused. There is little to no concept of a grace period or a “maybe it starts around 2 p.m.” If you have 15 minutes to meet your senator and discuss budget cuts, you have 15 minutes to meet your senator and discuss budget cuts. Your congressional delegate serves a lot of people—it’s their job! So there are many other meetings they need to attend to and constituents they need to serve. Aside from time being so focused and precise, it is also scarce. Keep this in mind when sharing your story. For some states like Montana and North Dakota, where there are a larger number of tribal colleges, your meetings will be tightly packed and choreographed. There are multiple schools, students, and representatives in each meeting, so to avoid wasting time in front of the congressional delegates, a separate state meeting is usually held the first day of the Capitol Hill visit. During such visits, speakers are assigned orders and representatives are chosen. Montana, for example, has more TCUs than any state with seven; this means that it is especially imperative as a student representative to be mindful of your time limit. If you are at a 15-minute meeting with 9 minutes devoted to sharing student stories, and there are three students selected to speak, this means that you will have 3 minutes to share your story, unless you are told otherwise. Please be mindful of the other students whose stories are equally important and allow them time to share also.

Remember why you are there. You will be talking to congressional delegates who might not align with you politically on all issues. This was perhaps one of the harder things for me to learn— to hold my tongue. Having to refrain from making comments about policies to your senator while she or he is listening to you might feel akin to starving inside a bakery. But one of the many things I have learned is that there is a time and place for everything. There is also a way to make your passions known without hijacking the purpose of these meetings. You probably wouldn’t go to a vegan restaurant to endorse hamburgers. So it might not be best to attend meetings centered on education to push for the environment.

With that said, you can still take advantage of the opportunity by talking to others. I felt so strongly about certain policies and wanted more information that I asked each of the representatives along with their staff interns if I could have their business cards. This networking led to an internship the following summer in DC, where I was able to research the very policies that bothered me. That was the appropriate place and platform to pursue my interests, as I was representing myself and not a larger organization.

At this point in my college career, I have been fortunate to attend three AIHEC Capitol Hill meetings representing two different tribal colleges and the AIHEC Student Congress. Since my initial meeting, my college track has changed dramatically: I have gone on to pursue internships in the capital, spending two intense summers interning through Quality Education for Minorities where I contributed to research on STEM (science, technology, engineering, and math) inclusion at TCUs, and landed an externship at the Indian Health Service headquarters in nearby Rockville, Maryland, which focused on civic media and LGBT issues. I have been invited to the White House a few times, including the 2015 White House Tribal Nations Conference, a 2016 Office of Science and Technology Policy meeting, and I was recently nominated to attend the White House Summit on the United State of Women. I also participated in an upcoming national PBS series focused on underrepresentation in the technology industry; introduced the Second Lady of the United States, Dr. Jill Biden, at the 2015 Achieving the Dream’s annual Institute on Student Success; traveled internationally for research under the National Science Foundation Partnerships for International Research; and I have spoken on numerous panels. Recently, I was a summer scholar at the National Science Foundation, focusing on data curation.

I have gone from confusing the GRE with GED to applying to graduate programs. My obnoxious loud behavior that stemmed primarily from just wanting to be heard has been curbed over the years. While at times I may still be a bit obnoxious, I don’t feel the tired drain of having to perform routines just to get people to listen. I am now in a position with opportunities—and offers! I am able to create opportunities for my peers and share what I’ve learned with my networks. I have set my sights on earning a Ph.D., and while still far off from accomplishing that goal, I feel confident that I can. Hopefully one day I can come back and teach at the very tribal colleges that helped me so much.

If I had to identify the pivotal experiences in my college education that have helped guide me to my current course, aside from having an amazing support network of TCU friends and internship mentors, I would single out attending Tribal College Week. This was more than just an intensive experience in policy and leadership. It also served a larger purpose: it helped me connect and create networks with other students while exposing me to a wealth of Indian Country leaders to look up to—from the various TCU presidents to distinguished faculty who have worked within their communities. It was where I realized that it is possible for people like me to one day create and affect change. Washington, DC and the world as a whole sometimes feel light years away, but they are actually just there waiting for people to seize opportunity. You just have to speak up.

- Robin Máxkii 

Originally published in Tribal College Journal

https://tribalcollegejournal.org/storytelling-capitol-hill-recollections-recommendations-tribal-college-week/

[doctortdesigns]

This is my third piece from my Sew Geeky fall plans, and is also part of my direct interpretation of a screen costume from The Magicians. I’m really excited about this piece because with a wig and few accessories I now have a passable cosplay of the librarian’s costume from the show.  It’s not totally screen accurate, but as a starting point, it’s not bad.

This is a pattern I bought specifically because I wanted to do a cosplay of the librarian’s costume, and I thought the trousers would be a good starting point.  They certainly have enough volume to work with, and I think with slightly different pleating and fabrication, as well as a thicker waistband, it would be pretty on point:

The Inspiration: The Librarian from SyFy’s The Magicians.

I added bias binding to the waistband facing because I wanted to try a new construction technique.  I like it!  It also adds secret coordination to the rest of the wardrobe.

    Here is my official pattern review:

Pattern Description:  Top, tunic, shorts, and trouser pattern.  I made View D, the trousers.

Pattern Sizing:  Vogue sizes XSM-M and L-XXL.  I used the size L, but I had to make some adjustments for fit, and it is still very generously sized.  I would recommend going down a size because I had to take quite a bit out of the waistband, and you may not want as much volume on the trousers as I did.

Were the instructions easy to follow?  The instructions were ok.  I followed the general construction order and general techniques, but I also used different finishes for the edges and hems.

Did it look like the photo/drawing when you were done with it?  I think this pattern is actually much more voluminous than the drawing indicates.  If you want a slimmer leg as shown, I would recommend going down a size.

What did you particularly like/dislike about this pattern?  I bought this pattern because I thought it would be a good starting point for a costume I want to make.  For that, I wanted the most voluminous trousers I could find, so in that sense, this is a great pattern for my purposes.  I enjoy having side seam pockets, and I like having a fly front, and back darts.  If I had made this pattern with a different purpose in mind, I think I would have been a little disappointed with how big these pants are – they have a lot more volume than the envelope indicates.  Also, I was worried that the waist would be too small based on the measurements given on the garment pieces, but I ended up having to take the waist in by 2 inches.  I don’t know that those really qualify as “dislikes;” I did get what I wanted from the pattern, but I think it is worth cautioning against in a review.

Fabric used:  I used a gray master fabric from the Michael Levine Loft.  I expect it is a suiting with some sort of poly/cotton or poly/rayon blend.  It does wrinkle a fair bit, and based on the hand I expect it might be cotton/poly, but I’m not entirely sure.  I STRONGLY RECOMMEND using fabric with a lot of drape for this pattern; stiff fabric is going to look insane on the pants.  This is not a great pattern if you want a firmer trouser with crisp pleats.    

Pattern alterations or design changes you made:  I added 1-5/8″ to the hem because I thought it would be too short (based on measuring the inseam), but then ended up with a 3″ hem because it was so long.  I was ok with that though because I think having more fabric at the hem does help it to drape a bit more easily.  I also had to take 2″ out of the center back.  I had fit the waistband and it seemed fine at first, but after adding the waistband to the trouser leg, the weight of the fabric pulled down the waistband, and the only way to get it to sit properly was to take it in at the center back, so my waistband now has a center back seam.  As far as finishing goes, I changed the waist band finishing to one using bias tape, and I used a blind hem instead of a topstitched hem.  I also left off the button and sewed on a trouser hook instead, because I wanted a cleaner look on the front.  Otherwise I made it as drafted.

Would you sew this again?  Would you recommend it to others?  Sort of and maybe?  Now that I have the fit somewhat addressed, I plan on using this pattern as a starting point to make some more screen-accurate trousers for the costume I was replicating, so I will be using the pattern again, but with even more modifications.  As far as recommending it… I’m not so sure.  I think the pants have way more volume than advertised, and I really think going down a size would help with that.  However, I think there are other similar trouser patterns that may give a more flattering fit to someone who is just looking for a nice wide legged trouser with a pleat.

Conclusion:  I’m happy with the pattern, as it suited my purpose to have a “wearable muslin” first attempt trouser for my cosplay plans.  I think I worked out some important fit issues, which was the goal with this project.  I also think it fits into my Sew Geeky fall plans well, so I can’t really complain on that front either.  I’m not sure that I would return to this pattern for anything outside of the costuming though.  I enjoy wide-legged pants, but these are not my favorite variation of the style.  Overall, I think this pattern suited my needs, and I’m happy with the result, but I’m not sure I’ll ever consider this to be a TNT wardrobe staple sort of pattern.

I felt this was a pretty fitting post for Halloween because it is ultimately destined to be a costume!  And, finally, because when one has swooshy pants, they must swoosh:

    Pattern Review: Vogue 9257 (Fall Sew Geeky) #sewing #voguepatterns #vogue #v9257 #patternreview #TheMagiciansSyFy #bookbounding #almostcosplay #sewgeeky2018 This is my third piece from my Sew Geeky fall plans, and is also part of my direct interpretation of a screen costume from The Magicians.

[nutmegfibers-blog]

My Summer Wardrobe

I was a little late on the Me-Made-May train this year, because other pressing work deadlines were in line first. Then, I saw Fringe Supply Co. was having a Summer of Basics  Make-along, and I thought this ended up being perfect timing for me! ‘Cause also, since in the summertime my kids go spend a week with their dad, I decided to use the time to finally sew up a bunch of projects that I’d been hoping to have time to get to. 

It’d been over 2 years since I pulled out my machine, since I had my physical store front over at the Shoppes on Fatherland in East Nashville. But, with my trip to Japan and Korea quickly approaching, there were some things I was wanting to sew, and I finally had a week to tackle them. 

My plans were to sew items that could be my “Summer Travel Wardrobe”, since I’d not only be traveling, but also be at a lot of different work events. I was wanting a group of about 5 items that could transition well between wandering the streets of Osaka, Kyoto and Seoul to being comfortable but stylish at my work events. 

I made a rough plan, including an ideal goal of being able to finish a pair of the adorable Jenny Overalls by Closet Case Patterns as well. However, when I actually got down to it, I ended up cutting five projects out! My list had grown and was as follows: 

1 denim Jenny Overalls...plus maybe time for a pair of pants as well? and maybe a version of the shorts for Bridget? 

1 Merchant and Mills Dress Shirt in their Silt Grey European linen

1 Alder Shirtdress from Grainline Studio in a really nice linen/rayon blend that I found at JoAnn’s 

1 Scout shirt from Grainline Studio in a striped Japanese cotton

1 Washi Dress from Made by Rae in a stunning handwoven cotton that I’d been holding onto since I closed my shopfront, by local weaver Alison Volek Shelton of Shutters and Shuttles

plus....if I had time, finish the Emery Dress I began 2 1/2 years ago out of a really lovely, chambray colored Japanese double gauze

Whoa. Haha! So...I spent a few days just cutting everything out first, so that I could streamline the sewing process later. 

Sidenote: It was interesting to approach sewing again after a few years of only knitting. When I knit, I go into with the understanding that I’ll not be finished that day, that it’s ok to put the project down, pick it back up, work on it again, etc. etc. etc. until it’s finished. It’s always had a meditative aspect to it, that sewing had never had for me. With sewing, I worked hard and fast until I finished, usually burning out by the end. However, as I worked to cut all these projects out, slow by slow, listening to music or watching a movie on my computer or whatever else to keep me company, I realized that I was a lot more relaxed in my approach than I would have been before. I found myself rushing less than I used to, knowing that it was ok to just finish it tomorrow. I think that the meditative aspects of knitting overflowed into my approach to these projects for sure. 

Ok...so back to my projects. Haha! 

So, this is the finished version of my Washi Dress, from Rae Hoekstra! I LOVE LOVE this pattern. I made a version a few years ago from a bright, colorful Korean fabric that I had for sale when I had my storefront, but I’d always thought this handwoven cotton would be really, really nice. Plus, for summertime it’s cotton! Perfect! The shirring on the back makes it ridiculously cozy. I’m imagining this layered over jeans, with some cozy sandals, walking around Seoul....wandering and having some 팥빙수!

**A few notes on working with a handwoven fabric....it frayed a bit more than a machine woven fabric, which I definitely expected. So to finish the edges, I did a zigzag, and then topstitched the seam allowance about 1/4″ in towards the seam allowance edge, to give extra durability. 

I worked on the Washi Dress and this Merchant & Mills Dress Shirt (pictured above) since I was familiar with the patterns and able to knock them out pretty quickly. So, this was the 2nd thing I tackled. It’s a super easy-breezy, linen dress that’s designed to be quite oversized. Both times, when I’ve made this, I baste up the side seams when I get to that step, then fit it more throughout the bust and waist area, so that it gives me more shape. Since I have a larger bust, to keep the full oversized shape of this is a little unflattering in my opinion, so I take in the sides a good 1″-1 1/2″ around my natural waist area. It still leaves tons of room, and gives more definition at the top where I need it. This is a timeless silhouette, and the linen that I used is just - so beautiful! 

I’m thinking that this will look good on it’s own, as a dressier option for during my work events, or also paired over some loose jeans and comfy walking shoes for wandering around. So, 2 down, 3 to go! 

So, this Scout shirt pattern from Jen Beeman at Grainline Studio is really, really essential. It’s the perfect, quick shirt solution. Takes a minimal amount of fabric, time and sewing skill! I had some nice, lightweight Japanese shirting fabric leftover as well from when I had the storefront in East Nashville, so I made up one of these quickly. It probably took 30 minutes for cutting, 1-2 hours for sewing. I think, I might try to put a few darts in my next one since I have a larger bust, like I mentioned before, just for a little extra shaping. But even as is, it works really well with jeans, and I’m wondering if it’ll layer well under my overalls...or perhaps I’ll look a little bit too much like a train conductor? We’ll see! 

I have some more extra fabric laying around, so I may try to make up a few more of these before we leave for our trip....if I have time. 

I’m nearly done with another Grainline pattern as well, the Alder Shirtdress (below). I’ve gotten it all done aside from the armhole bias tape binding, the hem and the buttons. I’m thinking that I might take it to a nearby alterations shop and get them to put the buttons on for me, just since that tends to be where my machine messes up a lot.

I was so happy to come upon this fabric at JoAnn’s when I was grabbing some random stuff for my sewing projects. It’s a machine-washable, linen-rayon blend, and I think that it suits this pattern so well! I decided to just not worry about the pockets, and leave it as is. I love the collar detail not his one. Even though there are still a few threads are still sticking out. 

I’m hoping to finish this one up this week! But, alas, my week of sewing came to end already. But, I got a surprisingly huge amount done! 

I did actually finish the Jenny Overalls, as well, but I’m gonna wait to do a separate post about those!! Can’t wait to give these all a test run during our trip in a few weeks! 

xo

Nutmeg

[uhoh-exoscenarios]

Your Guardian Angel [Optional Bias]

Written by: Admin S

Word Count: 3, 240

Summary: A short walk to your classes shouldn’t have gone so wrongly, but you found yourself lucky.

A/N: I am so bad with these summary bits it’s embarrassing.

Closing time at the bakery had come and preparations for tomorrow needed to be started before you left. Several notes for different cakes, cupcakes, and the like were taped to the wall in front of your working station, where you stood trying to delicately pipe flowers along the sides of the cake you were currently working on. It was almost complete and you couldn’t help the little proud smile that spread across your lips.

That is, until your boss came bursting into the small kitchen and slammed another order down on the table. The tray that the cake sat on trembled and turned, causing you to mess up the flower you were making and leave a small line of frosting in its wake.

“[Y/N], we need this order by tomorrow!” he barked, ignoring the glare you threw his way. He looked at the orders still taped to the wall and sighed heavily, muttering under his breath. “There’s still so much you haven’t gotten done yet!”

“Decorating is hard and takes time,” you retorted coldly. “You’re taking orders and running the register out there all day, I’d like to see you do it.”

You wouldn’t have sounded so rude to someone that you worked for, but you and your boss weren’t on the best of terms at the moment. There were many times that you had wanted to quit, but you were in college and had books that needed to be paid for.

All that was given was a grumble in response as he walked back out front to complete the end of day report and stuff the money into the envelope. You thought that you would get your peace and quiet to fix what mess you had made on the cake before he popped back in, the kitchen door slamming against the wall and causing you to squeeze the piping bag hard enough to let a thick drop of icing fall to the floor.

“Finish that cake and get out. You can do everything else tomorrow,” he said.

You looked to the notes on the wall and sighed, knowing that you would more than likely have to come in earlier than what you had to the next day to complete everything.

--

By the time you had finished and moved outside to lock the doors up, the sky was fading from its glowing orange sunset, signaling that there would only be a few more hours of daylight left. You cursed under your breath as the lock jammed, eyebrows pulling together in annoyance as you turned the key to get the lock into place before stuffing the key ring into your messenger bag already overflowing with too many things. Your work apron, your notes and books and everything else that you would need for your night time class; it was a miracle that the bag didn’t break on you.

You found your headphones in the mess and plugged them into your phone, ignoring the missed calls and texts lighting up the screen from your family back home, wanting to know when you were coming home for break and the like. You would have responded to them as quickly as possible, but finishing the cake and clean up took a big chunk of time out of your schedule and you were close to being late for your classes. At least the building you were taking the courses in was within walking distance.

The thought of having to sit through a long lecture was enough to make you want to call a cab to go home and sleep for the next few days until you were ready to rejoin society again. Unfortunately, that would only put you more behind and add more unneeded stress than what you had to the mix. With a heavy sigh, you turned the music volume on your phone up to the loudest that it could be and headed off towards the college, taking in the city’s view as the sun continued to set.

About four blocks into your walk, a large crowd of people made their way to the end of the sidewalk, one of them hurriedly pressing the button for the crosswalk light to change. You could see their mouths moving as they muttered to themselves or spoke to whoever on their phones, but couldn’t hear them over the rhythmic thumping that was blasting loudly in your ears. You squeezed your way through the crowd, slowly starting to lose touch with reality as your mind focused on the lyrics of the song playing and found yourself daydreaming.

In your peripheral vision, you could see people fiddling with their things and checking their bags, a glint of something that you hadn’t seen before passing by all of them but you took it for being the sun reflecting off of a car window. A light blinked up ahead and you stepped off the curb, thinking that the crosswalk had finally had enough of the person punching the button so much that it decided to change.

However, the throng of people did not move with you. The sleeve of your sweater was hardly disturbed as someone reached out to grab you to pull you back to the sidewalk and the shouts of “What are you doing?” was deaf to your ears as you were completely lost in the melody of one of your favorite songs, feet moving across the street as if they were being guided by string.

It was only as you stepped foot right in the center of the road did your eyes travel to the crosswalk sign on the other side of the street, catching you off guard and confusing you when it still showed the do not cross signal in dim orange letters. A rush of wind blew by you, startling you enough to remove your headphones and clutch on to your messenger bag out of shock.

The sound of a truck’s horn blaring into your ear drums caused you to look down the road, immediately being blinded by the headlights and the reality of the situation finally had sunk in. You had walked out on to one of the busiest streets in the city during a high traffic time and there were too many cars coming at once, not bothering to stop, to be able to reach one side or the other safely. People were being pulled back by people as they tried to cross to reach you, pull you out of harm’s way, shouting at you to run, but where was there to run to?

Your heartbeat sounded in your eyes loudly but somehow calmly as you froze in place, staring wide-eyed at the truck as it got closer and closer, and you braced yourself for an impact that would have surely killed you.

As you squeezed your eyes shut, the force of something hit you hard enough for you to let out a scream and you felt your body hit the ground hard enough to wind you. You didn’t feel any bones break and assumed that the truck hitting you had ended everything quickly enough for it to be painless, but as you slowly started to come through the shock, you noticed that you felt more warmth on top of you than cold.

An arm was wrapped around your waist with a hand at your back and the other fisted into your hair to hold you close, protect you as much as possible from the impact when you had fallen backwards. Your hands were clutching at the soft material of a shirt and you could feel the buttons of it brushing against your knuckles, assuring you that you could still touch and feel your surroundings. A comforting scent of cologne filled your nose, and you could have sworn that you had smelled the same thing several times before, when you had been in trouble.

The force of the fall had knocked the air out of you and the added weight of the body on top of you had completely left you breathless. You clutched at the chest of their shirt, eyes welling up with tears and body shaking violently out of fear as everything slowly began to process through; the truck’s horn was still blaring as it sped down the road, deafening you. The person who had gotten you out of harm’s way slowly raised themselves up, stern features turning soft at the sight of you and gentle hands smoothing out your hair in a comforting manner. If your heart wasn’t already erratic, the handsome features of the man would have made it skip a beat.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. “That was scary… But it’s over now, you’re okay.”

There was a glare from the remaining sunlight hitting something, blinding your vision momentarily, but you could have sworn that you saw almost transparent white wings fading in and out of the city’s backdrop.

A struggled “Who are you?” managed to whisper past your quivering lips as the grip you had on his shirt lessened to a gentler hold, your mind all but failing to pull a memory as to where you had seen him before.

“You still don’t know?” he chuckled, shaking his head. He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, the action easing your nerves little by little. “Stay out of trouble, and maybe I’ll tell you who I am.”

Your eyes slid to a close as he pulled away, and in the minute you opened them, he was gone. You sat up and frantically glanced around, seeing the concerned faces of people as they rushed over to you, fretting over you and question after question flying out of their mouths that you couldn’t keep up with to answer. The crowd thinned out once you were helped to your feet and it did enough to help ease your mind.

“Do you need me to call an ambulance?” an elderly woman asked. “My, you were lucky you jumped out of the way in time. You could have gotten yourself killed!”

You didn’t want to think about that. “N-No, I’m fine… Where- Didn’t someone push me out of the way though?” you asked.

She frowned at you. “No, you jumped out of the way on your own. Are you sure you don’t need me to call an ambulance?”

“I-I’m sure… Thank you.”

All other concerns were dismissed quickly as you retreated back to your university dorm, feeling not too well to attempt to go to classes for the night. The roommates you were given were out for the night, thankfully, and you wanted nothing more than to collapse on your bed for the night and give yourself that much needed sleep you so desperately deserved after that near death experience.

--

For the next few days, “stay out of trouble, and maybe I’ll tell you who I am” was ringing in your mind and left you unable to concentrate on a lot of things; you were caught daydreaming in class and at work so many times you were surprised you weren’t kicked out and sent home. As you went about your days, you tried to match the image from memory of him to everyone that was walking past you and it was to no avail, the city was too big and when you thought that you had a familiar face in mind, they were no longer there.

The thought of stepping in front of another speeding truck was a thought that crossed your mind several times just to provoke the encounter of seeing him again and demanding answers, but you didn’t think you could take another experience like that again without being completely done for.

Sighing softly, you left your class for the night and trudged back to your dorm, your messenger bag feeling heavier than it normally was and the walk seeming farther than what it was. All you could think of was getting something to eat, getting a little bit of caffeine in your system to be able to work on homework, and then sleeping the rest of the night. It would be easier if your roommates were at one of their parties and not at home like they have been for the past week; getting anything done with them around was futile.

You fumbled around in your bag for keys as you reached the door, moving to put in the key to unlock it when you noticed that it was ajar. You frowned and reached in your bag again for your mace, thinking that someone might have broken in, when you remembered that one of your very ditzy roommates tended to make not closing the door all the way a habit. Trying to push the thought of a long talk about that again to the side, you stepped in the small apartment, expecting to be greeted with the sound of silence, only to be flooded with someone’s presence.

Your breath caught in your throat as you eyed the back of the man that had saved you the other day. He calmly was sitting at the kitchen’s counter that connected the living room and kitchen, moving side to side on the stools that spun; the wings you were so certain that you had seen attached to him were gone.

A smile lit up his face at your appearance, stating simply with a warm voice, “You’re back.” He stood from where he sat and was in front of you in a few long strides, bringing a hand up to tuck a strand of hair out of your face before cupping your cheek gently. “I hoped that you wouldn’t be too much longer. How are you doing?”

His presence made you feel at ease and you had the overwhelming urge to lean your cheek into his touch, but you forced yourself to take a step back from him, your back hitting the door. You tried your hardest to ignore the pang of guilt in your chest at the way his smile dropped as he returned his hand to his side, shoving in the pocket of his jeans as if he couldn’t find anything else to do with it.

“Who are you?” you demanded, hands curled at your sides as you attempted to appear threatening.

An amused smile flashed across his face, obviously not taking your tough act seriously. “You don’t have to be like that, you know I wouldn’t dream of hurting you,” he placated. “But you can call me [bias name]. Please, relax, I don’t intend to cause you any harm.”

“Yet you broke into my dorm…” you drawled and he scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

“I didn’t know where else to meet you and I can only jump around so much before it gets exhausting. The lock isn’t… completely broken.”

A confused look must have crossed your face for him to chuckle again and he held up his hands, palms outward to show that he didn’t mean any harm. “Please, [Y/N]. I’ll explain everything, I promise.”

“Last time I saw you, you had wings and you vanished,” you stated bluntly as you leaned against the door. “I don’t know how much explanation you could offer; I hit my head pretty hard that day and you could be a figment of my imagination right now.”

Though, you secretly hoped that wasn’t the case.

He looked like a mix between surprised and pleased, smile growing on his face again. “You saw them? Then that must mean I really am yours…” he mused quietly, an excited lilt to his voice.

“Mine?” you questioned.

He nodded, sitting back at the island counter and gesturing towards the couch across from him. You complied, your legs tired from standing and feeling that you might need to sit down after he would bring whatever light to this situation that he could.

“It’s really your choice whether you believe me or not,” he started with a sheepish smile. “[Y/N], I’m one of your guardian angels. I have been sworn to keep you as safe as I can possibly manage. I have been with you throughout your life and I have kept you out of danger many times before.

You blinked several times and your mouth pressed into a thin line. “Yeah, okay—“

“You were in a life or death situation last week with that truck,” he continued softly. “You wouldn’t have been able to see my wings if you weren’t going to live past that.”

A cold chill ran up your spine at his statement, his face looking grim as if he shouldn’t have mentioned that. His gaze shifted to the floor momentarily, lacing his hands together quietly and waiting for your response.

“I wasn’t going to live if you didn’t save me?” you whispered out. “Was that you came? To take me away?”

He shook his head. “No, that… That isn’t part of my job. Guardians aren’t allowed the privilege of helping those cross.”

You nodded as if you understood, but you were having a difficult time trying to grasp it. It didn’t make sense, and yet at the same time, it did. “Do I have more than just you?”

“Am I not enough?” he pouted, and you quickly sat up straighter in your seat to clarify what you had meant, terrified to hurt his feelings. He laughed under his breath. “I’m teasing. Yes, there are more, but I’m around most.”

“And, what, you follow me around on the daily?” you asked. “You’re not assigned to anyone else?”

He shook his head. “I live to protect you and you only. I do follow you around when I can…” He pursed his lips. “Your boss is an asshole.”

You laughed at that, taken aback. “I didn’t think angels cursed.”

“Bet you thought we wore white robes, too.”

“When you’re taught on what angels should look like, that happens.”

[Bias name] laughed and nodded. “Fair enough. Are you okay?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m just dreaming all of this right now,” you said truthfully. “This is all so weird… But, yeah. I’m okay.”

“Is there any way I can assure you you’re not…?” he asked hesitantly.

“Oh. Well, I don’t know how you could…”

He bit his lip. “… Do you trust me?”

“My guardian angel is asking me if I trust him after he saved my life.” You shook your head. “Yes. I trust you.”

He stood from his seat again and walked over to you, gently helping you to your feet and wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you closer to him. The other reached to cup your cheek, eyes looking into yours and you felt a blush rising to your cheeks as your heart started to pound.

“Aish, you’re too cute for words, [Y/N]…” he murmured, leaning his head down and pressing his lips to yours.

Your eyes slipped to a close as his lips moved against yours, hand sliding from your cheek to your hair and down your back. Your hands rested on his chest, fingers curling into his shirt as he pulled away. “Was that enough to make you believe you’re not dreaming?” he asked, rubbing his hand softly up and down the length of your back.

You nodded, making him smile softly at you. “Definitely more than enough. Will I see you again?”

“As many times as you wish; I’m always here,” he replied softly, keeping his arms around you and hugging you to him.

[britishstorypapers]

Brain teasers, Bessie Bunter’s cooking, and a sewing pattern for a gas-mask case.  

BRAIN TEASERS A few more puzzles and catches for leisure moments.

1.  How can you show that 6 is half of 11? That’s just a trick, and you need pencil and paper to prove how it can be done. Now two riddles: 2.  Which county of England is the most studious? 3.  If your uncle’s sister is not your aunt, what relation is she to you? They’re both quite good, I think, and you’ll find the answers at the end. 4.  Next see if you can change the word LAND to SEAS, making only three changes - but each change must form a separate word, remember. My next one is an old favourite - but some of you may not know it. 5.  Go up to a chum and say: “Can you spell hungry horse in four letters?”  Maybe she’ll give it up as hopeless, in which case, you promptly tell her the answer - below. 6.  Another riddle now.  What fruit appears on every penny?

THE ANSWERS Now here are the answers.  Remember to hide them if you’re trying these puzzles on the family. 1.  Write 11 in Roman figures, XI.  Now cover this with a piece of paper, so that it looks like VI.  And there you are. 2.  Berkshire: because it has a whole town in it that is always Reading. 3.  She would be your mother. 4.  LAND, Lend, Lead, Leas, SEAS. 5.  M T G G (empty gee-gee - see?) 6.  The date.

HOBBIES AT CLIFF HOUSE MISS HILDA RICHARDS and PATRICIA have planned this series of articles for you, to tell you about the hobbies of some of the best-known characters at Cliff House School.

This Week: BESSIE BUNTER Cooking - that’s our Bessie’s favourite hobby.  And she’s expert at it, too.  You mustn’t think that because Bessie is a bit of a dream over other things that she bungles “the culinary art.” [...] Her pastry is said to be the lightest in the school, and Bessie says that’s because she’s got a “fairy touch.” This may sound a bit romantic, but actually there’s sense in it.  For two girls can be given exactly the same ingredients, work to the same time, use the same type of pastry board and roller, the same oven even - and yet one girl’s pastry will melt in your mouth, while the other is just - well, ordinary.  The secret does lie in “the touch.” Light handling of cooking utensils is one of Bessie’s knacks. And there is nothing to make her shiny face beam more than to bring from the oven a crispy pie that looks almost too tempting to be real. The frying of sausages may sound rather easy.  But Bessie always insists that they require skill, too - and I’m inclined to agree with her. “You should always prick the sausages first before putting them into the pan,” says Bessie. “Do this with a sharp-pronged fork.  It allows the sausages to swell, without making them burst all over the place.” The fat should be heated before the sausages are popped into the pan, too.  Allow them to cook gently and then turn up the gas, or increase the heat to “brown them off,” to give them that crunchy flavour. Bessie has a favourite cookery book that she often looks at - just for pleasure. A “Mrs. Beeton.”  It doesn’t sound very exciting - but Bessie loves it!  It was a cookery prize. Next Week: JEMIMA CARSTAIRS.

A NEW CASE FOR YOUR GAS-MASK

Here is the pattern of the gas-mask case.  If you follow the measurements carefully you can’t go wrong.

Lots of you already have a case for covering the cardboard box in which your gas-mask is, I know.  But then, some of you haven’t.  And there are still others of you who may have a pretty enough case, but require a new one for the winter months - one that is completely waterproof. So that’s why I’ve designed one for you.  It’s very simple to cut out if you follow the diagram exactly, and just as easy to make up. Now what material will you make it in? I suggest gaily-coloured American cloth, or that pretty, patterned oil-silk.  You’ll only need half a yard of either material - and this should cost about 6d.

A PATTERN FIRST First take a good look at the diagram here, then cut a piece of paper measuring 20 inches one way and 16 the other.  (This is to serve as a pattern, so that there will be no fear of your spoiling the precious material.) With a pencil mark the centre of the long sides and the centre of the short sides. Now mark the line G, F, which measures 3 inches on each side of the pencil mark on the 20-inch side. Turn the paper round, and mark A, C, which also measures 3 inches on either side of the pencil mark there. After turning your paper round again so that line G, F, is nearest to you, now cut from G for 5 inches.  Do the same from F.  Then turn and repeat from A and C. Next, cut from these corners towards the right and left sides of the paper - that is, towards H, E, D, and B. You now have the essential shape.  Now you can do a little trimming off of corners as shown on the right of the diagram. The next step is some careful folding.  All the dotted lines in the diagram represent folds.  Place the cardboard case of your gas-mask on the pattern, and then fold up to make sure your measurements are correct.

CAREFUL CUTTING There - having the pattern correct, you can use it as a guide for cutting out the material itself.  Pin it to the paper pattern so that it doesn’t slip, and wield the scissors carefully.  It’s quite tricky - but not difficult, if you go gently and don’t get flustered. The cutting-out done, you now have four joins to make. Allowing half an inch for turnings, join A to B, C to D, E to F, and G to H.  These seams should be five inches long and the corners should be neatly tucked in. Now you must either hem or bind the other raw edges.  I think binding in that pretty bias-binding or with tape would look best - and it’s stronger, too.

STRONG STITCHING Sew two buttons on the straight edge that folds over the top of your case, and make two buttonholes on the shaped end. Your case should now fit neatly into this, and button close on top. It’s now complete except for the strap.  This can be made, as long or as short as you like, from the oddments of material you cut away, joining them into a long strip, and turning inside out. If you can use the family machine, I certainly should for this job, but if not, sew in strong back-stitching. And if you find the slightest difficulty in doing the cutting out yourself, do ask a grown-up to help you.  I’ve made the diagram as simple as possible, but I do realise that they can be a bit baffling to follow if you’re not made that way.

The Schoolgirl Nov 11, 1939.