#plant leather is still mostly plastic

[lacewise]

Last post on pleather being marketed as “vegan leather”: this change occurred BEFORE the ubiquity of fast fashion (mid-2000s, was already a grassroots shift when I was in school) and anyone telling you otherwise is trying to trick you. It did not start with mainstream or burgeoning fast fashion brands. (If I’m remembering my experience correctly, I’m pretty sure it started with consumers themselves.)

I forgot the age demographics of the internet and assumed everyone else also remembered that.

Although I am curious about the people younger than me who seemingly don’t have anyone older to ask about v mainstream societal shifts?

(I do remember people bringing up that it was probably a psyop from the oil industry around the mid-2010s but then vegans sent everyone trying to exonerate them death threats and said PETA was right, if you’re wondering where that conversation disappeared to. I’ve been on the internet way too long.)

[cleverthylacine]

Where can we get real leather lolita shoes?

I am so incredibly done with fake "PU" leather.

Some of my fake leather bags have done all right. The thick ones. I probably won't buy anymore though.

But shoes?

I have leather granny boots that are 15+ years old and they are fine. Over the years I have bought many leather granny boots and I wear them with lolita, but when it comes to lolita pumps...

It's always polyurethane "vegan" "leather" which is still plastic and terrible for the environment. In 2014 I bought a lot of great lolita shoes and then I broke my ankle. 3 years later I was finally able to wear them again some but mostly stuck to my leather booties for ankle support. Then there was a pandemic, and the upshot of this, is that today I discovered another pair of PU lolita boots that had mysteriously shredded ITSELF. (and I discovered them because I'd planned my coordinate for the day to include them. they had very high heels but it was my birthday tea, not an event with a scavenger hunt and dancing.) And unlike the pirate boots I wore everywhere and did have some wear on them, these were shoes that I've worn less than 10 times over the past 10 years and they are just. dead. and now they're headed for the landfill because cobblers won't fix those.

I wore cute leather pumps instead, not traditionally lolita but they had big leather rosettes on them so they were fine.

You can wear leather shoes with lolita--I've worn Doc Martens Mary Janes, and I have several pairs of Everybody BZ Moda boots or shoes that are leather and fine with lolita. The shoes I wore today were Everybody BZ Moda.

But is there anyplace out there that makes lolita shoe designs in leather?

(If you are a vegan/animal rights activist please do not clown on my post, this is not a debate post, this is a serious question. I don't want to hear about plant based leather or whatever, it is all processed with PLASTIC and we need less plastic.)

[lovelylogans]

the parent trap

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: epilogue

Two very similar boys help their two very different families assimilate into one.

⁂

“Aw, Pa, do we have to?”

Patton—still entirely unused to driving on the left side of the road and therefore relegated to the passenger’s seat—gives Remus a Look through the rearview mirror.

“Even if this wasn’t suggested by the lawyer to clearly illustrate the harm that judge had on your upbringing, yes, I absolutely would have pushed for this on my own.”

“It’s a big upheaval in your lives, anyway,” Janus says, absently reaching over to pat Patton’s hand as he cranes his neck to watch for incoming traffic. “Too right you should have someone to talk to that isn’t related to you.”

“Or Virgil.”

“Or Virgil,” Janus amends. “And before either of you get any ideas, if you absolutely hate it there: fine. We shall find another child psychologist. But if you prank your way out of there, then that means you’re going to another child psychologist and your time in therapy will increase, as pranking the people you dislike is not a healthy way to express your feelings.”

The twins exchange a look.

Patton hopes that look means darn, any potential plan is foiled! but even he can see that there’s still some mischief brewing in those matching heads of theirs.

But any complaints are cut short by Janus pulling into the parking lot; sorry, the car park, he’s still getting used to all that.

Patton and Janus herd the boys in; they shuffle in, all together, to a cozy-looking if slightly bland waiting room, the other three taking up all the seats on the available couch as Patton approaches the front desk.

“Hi,” Patton says. “Appointment for Remus and Roman, under Parker-James?”

“Parker-James?” The person at the desk says, flipping through their agenda calendar. “Remus and Roman Parker-James… yes, I have you right here, he should be ready pretty soon…”

Janus flips through a spare copy of Vogue; the boys play some kind of hand-slapping game they must have learned at camp; Patton pretends to read the magazine in his hands while watching them both out of the corner of his eyes.

“Parker-James?” A voice calls from inside the office.

All four of them stand and make their way into the room.

The room is set up in mostly earth-tones; brown couches, leather armchair, nice wooden bookshelves stocked up with the books chock full of the latest therapeutic breakthroughs, a few plants tucked away in the corners. 

The pops of color come from the cartoon decor; little figurines, paintings, a few stuffed animals tucked into strategic locations. Rubber ducks and Disney heroines and plucky child protagonist and superheroes, stretch as far as the eye can see.

And there’s a great tarp set up on the floor and transparent plastic wrapped over the chairs, hanging in front of the bookshelves with their decorations and books, with a variety of incredibly tempting, messy-looking acrylic paints ripe for any child to cause chaos.

“Hello there, boys,” the therapist says with a smile, setting aside his pen and notebook. “I’m Dr. Emlie Picani. I’ll be your therapist. Do either of you enjoy painting?”

The boys exchange a look, this one much less loaded with mischief, but both nod.

“Good!” Dr. Picani says. “Me too. I’d like this first session to be much less formal—and don’t worry if you get a bit messy with it, I’ve got all these tarps laid out and I believe your Dads have brought spare clothes if necessary. And, on that note—Dads, if you’ll take your leave?”

“Be good,” Janus says, smoothing a hand over Remus’s then Roman’s hair.

“Have fun, boys!” Patton says, and they take their leave.

Patton has a pretty good feeling about this.

⁂

“All right, Remus?”

“All right,” Remus says, getting pretty used to the way the British exchange this particular pleasantry. “Uncle Logan’s sent down—”

“Ah, a cuppa!” Grandfather exclaims, taking tray off Remus’s hands. “Now, I��ll be mother—would you like one?”

“What is it?” Remus says.

“Earl grey, looks like,” Roman says, taking his nose out of the book he’s reading long enough to look.

“Yeah, I’ll have one,” Remus says, flopping onto one of the numerous couches in the study. “Thanks, Grandpa Toby.”

Grandfather putters about with the tray for a moment, taking a moment to add something to his—Remus spies the amber-colored liquid in the glass bottle Grandfather keeps in an isolated place where the children can’t reach it.

“Here you are, Roman, bit of honey—Remus, yours with enough sugar to kill me—”

“No brandy?” Remus says, giving Grandfather a hopeful look.

“Certainly not,” Grandfather says, as if he didn’t literally just sneak away a healthy slug into his own teacup. “You’ll stick to your wines, and you’ll have to ask your fathers to indulge in that, besides.”

Remus considers this. “How many years until that wavers?”

Grandfather pauses. 

“When you’re eighteen!” Roman squawks.

“Yes, certainly,” Grandfather says with an approving nod to Roman. “When you’re eighteen. That’s the responsible answer.”

Roman nods in satisfaction and returns his attention to his book.

“When I’m twelve?” Remus whispers.

“Certainly not,” Grandfather says, just as quietly.

“Thirteen.”

“No.”

“Fourteen? Fifteen?”

“...Eighteen.”

“Oh, puh-lease, as if you didn’t have moments of underage drinking, you can’t judge me for wanting to try things.”

Grandfather pauses, then waggles his hand side-to-side.

“Knew it,” Remus mutters, and he picks up a section of Grandfather’s newspaper. The sports section—Remus has been told in very certain terms about which teams the Jameses do and do not support, but it’s all gone in one ear and out the other—and pretends to read the articles while he really keeps an eye out to see if they’ve put any of the fun, rude chants in the paper.

(Tragically, no.)

And so they sit in silence, sipping their tea and reading their individual pieces of interest, and neither twin breathes a word to their fathers when their Grandfather cracks open the study window and busies himself with packing his pipe the instant the tea is done and spends the afternoon merrily smoking away.

⁂

Janus had initially been surprised that Patton had so willingly gone along with his insistence on filing a legal custody arrangement, even though they were once again back together.

The Patton he married nearly a dozen years ago probably would have insisted it wasn’t necessary, that they were together now and there was no point in it, but the Patton of today had fervently agreed and pored over the agreement with a metaphorical fine-toothed comb.

A decade without one of your sons was enough to change a person, Janus supposed.

Even if Patton tended to call it the Worst Case Scenario document.

“Okay,” Janus says, examining it. “Each boy returns to their original schooling, if necessary.”

“Even year summers are mine; odd year summers are yours,” Patton says. “The boys spend your birthday with you, and my birthday with me, when possible.”

“You have American Thanksgiving, always, which would mean I would always Bonfire Night.”

“Even year Christmas-and-Boxing-Days are yours; even year New Year’s are mine.”

“And Easters and other minor holidays in which the boys have a break from schooling alternate, with potential to revise the custodial arrangement until the boys are eighteen, at which point they’ll be free to spend holidays as they choose.”

They examine the paperwork in silence.

“Do you think we missed anything?” Janus says.

“I don’t think so,” Patton says uncertainly. “I’m sure Remy will tell us if we did.”

“Yes, that he would,” Janus says.

They stare at the paperwork some more.

“And now,” Patton says. “To file it away with Remy and hope we never need it.”

“To hope we never need it,” Janus agrees fervently, and Patton leans in for a kiss.

⁂

Not to be dramatic, but Remus has been dying from excitement looking forward to this moment literally since the moment their parents decided to send Remus to Roman’s fancy British school.

The fact that he has to wear a suit and tie kind of sucks, though. But it’s kind of nice that he’s going to be in all the same classes as Roman, if solely to spend more time teasing his brother and nothing else sentimental.

The school is smaller than Remus’s public California school; it’s all red brick and ivy, with a SOCCER field out back, a little bit outside of the edges of the city proper. He rides on the bus (also new—Virgil usually drove him to and from school, back home) and Roman escorts him to the office to make sure all of their paperwork is filed, like Dad told him to.

It is—he has to do hardly anything, just carry a form for his new teacher to fill out. He ignores whatever map they’re offering and just falls into step behind Roman.

The teacher meets him in the hall, signs his form, and goes into the classroom to introduce him.

Remus smiles to himself. Excellent. A dramatic entrance.

“Class,” the teacher says. “We have a new student this year—a Mr. Remus Parker, from California, in America. Come in, Remus, we can find a place for you next to your brother.”

Remus walks in, to whispers of wow, Roman has a twin! and American?! unhearing to all of it, his eyes searching the room for one familiar face.

He finds it.

All of the blood has drained from Dick Davies’s face, making him look even more pale and awful than usual. He’s slithered down in his chair, looking moments away from letting out a pathetic, awful whimper.

Remus offers his most bloodthirsty, shit-eating grin.

He does find a spot near Roman—near the back of the room, which is excellent. None of his American teachers would have made that mistake.

He waits until class is underway before he starts making mischief.

Like fucking Spalding he writes on a piece of paper, crumpling it into a ball, which he proceeds to chuck, full-strength, at the back of Davies’s head. Davies picks it up, frowning, and reads.

He lets out a really undignified squawking noise, which gets him giggled at by his classmates and scolded by their teacher. Roman grins sheepishly into his notebook, exchanging a look with Remus.

Yeah, Remus thinks. It’s going to be a fun year.

⁂

Janus loves London dearly.

He was born and raised there; he’s raising his children there. London is like another member of the family.

But Napa was certainly very nice at this time of year.

Janus lets out a pleased sigh at the sight of the sun, hands braced on the balcony railing as he looks over the vineyard sprawling below them. 

“You’re like a cat,” a familiar voice says behind him, amused.

Janus smiles, but he doesn’t turn to see his visitor; instead, he simply theatrically tilts his face into the sunrays, taken up by the sweet, simple treasure of his body inundated by the sun’s glow.

“Sitting in the little sunspots and soaking up all the warmth,” Patton continues, pressing his lips to the nape of Janus’s neck; Janus can feel him smiling there.

“The boys are off,” Patton murmurs. “You’ll probably see them galloping out if you stand here long enough.” 

Janus grins. “I’m sure Roman’s eager for the excuse to dress up as a proper countryman.”

“They look pretty cute in the flannels,” Patton says, and he wraps his arms around Janus’s waist. “You do, too.”

“It is yours.”

“Ah, that must be part of it,” Patton murmurs, and Janus laughs.

“I’m sure you were probably coming to soak up the sun before you return to the frigidity of London.”

“Well, I won’t lie—that’ll definitely be a nice part of being here again,” Patton says. 

“And the other part?”

Patton presses another kiss to his neck, more lingering, more heated.

“Nice big house,” Patton says, “I think we’re the only ones in it” and Janus laughs; even after all these years, Patton can barely bring himself to say anything past the implication of innuendo.

“All right, then,” Janus says, turning to wrap his arms around Patton’s neck. “Bring me in we’ll do our best to keep each other warm.”

And Patton, pulling him along to their bedroom, certainly does.

⁂

“I guess there’s a lot to do on a vineyard this time of year.”

Roman surveys the grape vines, buzzing with employees and tourists alike, from his place tucked amidst the trees, atop Sprout. He is—once again—wearing the full wannabe cowboy outfit: flannel shirt, jeans, boots that Papa got for him practically as soon as they arrived in California, and his truly excellent cowboy hat.

Remus—a more experienced rider and therefore permitted to ride Papa’s Cinnamon—looks over at him with an expression that reads duh. 

He’s also in jeans and boots, but he’s wearing a band t-shirt with one of Virgil’s old flannels thrown over the top, and a black cowboy hat. Basically the all-black, goth-equivalent of Roman’s red-and-white, wannabe-cowboy outfit.

Roman decides to read it as fond, reasserting his grip on the reins. “It is nice to feel warm weather, though.”

“Oh, you’re telling me,” Remus says. “I’ve never seen snow like I’ve seen in London—and it doesn’t even stick around very long! All the cars water it down to gray slush—”

“—and Dad and Uncle Logan would not be pleased it you started tracking that inside,” Roman says hastily, lest Remus resume his ideas of dirty snow snowball fights. Roman does not want to deal with slush down the back of his newest jumpers, thank you.

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Remus sighs, waving him off, and turning his face to the Napa sun. Weak as it is, Roman thinks, it’s certainly much warmer here than it is back home in London, where carolers and bell-ringers have set up shop on practically every corner. 

It’s not their first time back in Napa since their parents resumed their romance, but they are here for the longest; they’ll be back in London in time for Christmas, Boxing Day, and New Years’ with Grandfather, but the James-Parkers have decided to take advantage of the stretch of much better weather down in Napa while the pair of them are off school.

So: plentiful horse rides in the vineyard, getting up the courage to maybe splash around the much chillier pool, occasional jaunts into nearby cities and towns, baking cookies with Virgil and Uncle Logan. 

Roman’s really looking forward to it. 

“You know,” Roman says, contemplative. “The last time I was around this spot, Papa was trying to tell me he was going to marry Maddox?”

Remus makes a dreadful gagging noise. “Ugh, could you imagine?”

“I bet we’d be stuffing his Christmas cookies full of cinnamon so he’d choke on them.”

“Stuffing his stocking with dead fish!”

“Wrapping up a list of numbers for divorce lawyers as a present for Papa!”

“Pushing him out on an iceberg with the penguins!”

They both crack up at the memory of Maddox flailing in the middle of the lake.

“I’m really glad our fathers sent us to the same camp.”

“Ugh,” Remus complains, then, “yeah, I guess I am too.”

They sit in companionable silence for a while. There are a few birds, perhaps on their way south for the winter, chirping quietly in the trees. The distant murmur of people in the fields reaches them in a hush. The fields are less verdant than it was in the true depths of summer, but everything here is certainly much greener than anything in London. The scent of wildflowers wafts on the slight breeze, distant but there. 

It’s really very nice.

Then:

“Raceya!” Remus shouts, and him and Cinnamon are off like a shot.

“Hey, no fair!” Roman yelps, digging his heels into Sprout’s side, and they speed off after his brother, kicking up dust behind them.

⁂

Logan thinks that Janus has placed a sprig of mistletoe in the doorway leading from kitchen to dining room solely for the purpose of attacking Patton with kisses whenever he goes to get everyone more wine.

Not that Logan is complaining. It works to his advantage, too.

Logan waits, quiet, as the sink shuts off, as the last cabinet closes, and then he takes a purposeful step forward.

Just in time to catch Virgil coming back from washing the dishes.

“Oh,” Logan says. “Look at that. We’ve been caught under the mistletoe.”

Virgil grins at him. “Accidentally, I’m sure.”

“Was I being too subtle? No, I want to kiss you.”

Virgil laughs. “Merry Christmas, Logan.”

“Merry Christmas, Virgil,” Logan whispers back, and Virgil leans in, pressing their lips together, Logan leaning back against the doorframe and wrapping his arms around Virgil’s neck.

They thoroughly fulfill the criteria of kissing under the mistletoe.

⁂

It’s almost weirder to Patton that he isn’t experiencing a ton of déjà vu.

Sure, it’s his second wedding day; sure, it’s in the same place as it was last time; sure, it’s to the same man, but other than that, there isn’t much else that’s the same.

For one thing, their relatives have managed to make it this time, Patton’s dearest regret of eloping the way he did; his sister, Linda, is standing beside Janus’s father, their heads bent together, discussing something very intently.

Their boys, in matching suits of white—Remus with a basket of flower petals, an errant rose probably plucked from a floral arrangement stuck behind his ear. Roman holds the rings, smiling up at Patton. 

(They’d considered the boys for the opposite jobs—Roman surely would have liked to be tossing flower petals everywhere—but then Patton thought priceless wedding rings and Remus’s brand of mischief and they’d quickly swapped them around.)

Patton smiles back at his son, reaching down to ruffle his hair, thinking better of it, and instead squeezing his shoulder.

“You ready, Pat?” Virgil murmurs from his rightful place at Patton’s side as his best man.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready,” Patton confesses, adjusting the lapels of his silver-gray suit jacket, mindful not to crush his boutonniere of a tiny, pale pink rose and white alstroemerias. “I should be more nervous, right? I should be nervous, but I’m just really excited.”

A corner of Virgil’s lip quirks up, his eyes straying back toward where Logan is ducking back to see to any of Janus’s last-minute needs.

“Or maybe,” Patton suggests innocently, “all this talk of weddings is maybe leading you to think about…?”

Virgil laughs, a nervous, gleeful giggle, as Remus blitzes down the aisle, pelting anyone and everyone with rose petals. 

“What, your wedding could make me think about my potential wedding?”

“Maybe you should,” Patton says, “think about a potential wedding, I mean” and Virgil snorts.

Roman gives Virgil an excited look at the thought of another occasion for fancy outfits, and he has to prodded into remembering his entrance timing by Vendela.

“How about we get through this wedding before we start worrying about another one?” Virgil says.

Patton grins, links arms with Linda—Janus’s father has gone back to join Logan and Patton’s once-groom-now-groom-again—and waves Virgil off on his walk down the aisle. 

And now Linda squeezes his arm, rubbing up and down.

“Last chance to back out,” Linda jokes, her brown eyes and tan skin accentuated by the pale rose gown and matching shawl that Janus has put her in.

“Not on your life,” Patton says, breathless and giddy, which makes Linda laugh.

“Ready?” Vendela murmurs and, before he can answer, she says “and go” and suddenly Linda’s walking him down the aisle.

He feels a little awkward with everyone’s eyes on him, but he finds it’s easy enough to tune it out when he smiles and waves to his friends and family—the folks who help him at the vineyard, cousins and aunts and uncles, friends from school and beyond.

He finds it easiest of all when he focuses on the end of the aisle: the officiator, Virgil with his hands behind his back, smiling at him fondly; and his boys, handsome in their not-quite-matching white suits, discreetly elbowing each other.

When they reach the aisle, Linda stands to kiss him on the cheek.

“Love you,” she murmurs. 

“Love you too.”

She departs to her seat. Patton takes a moment to once again squeeze Roman’s shoulder and to ruffle Remus’s already-messy hair before he stands at the altar, staring down the aisle.

It somehow takes forever and also just a moment before Janus makes his entrance.

And Patton loses the air from his very lungs.

Janus—handsome, always—seems to have moved from beautiful to ethereal. 

He’s stunning, wearing a self-made suit with a tailcoat in all white, from his intricately-knotted tie to his shining white oxfords, except for the soft patch of pink over his heart that denotes his boutonniere that matches Patton’s.

Patton blinks out the first of many, many joyful tears of the day.

Patton can barely notice the way Logan is smiling shyly at Virgil.

(He does notice, in fairness. But it’s very difficult to not be staring at his ex-husband/husband-to-be.)

Janus smiles at him, that familiar wicked curve of his mouth, the port wine birthmark across his cheek, those mesmerizing eyes, and Patton beams back, cheeks aching and sure that he looks very silly, but he can’t bring himself to care.

At last, at long last, Janus’s father kisses Janus on the cheek, gives Patton a very firm handshake, and goes to offer the boys a paternal pat on the shoulders before he finds his seat beside Linda.

Logan ascends, taking a brief moment to give Virgil an unchoreographed kiss on the cheek before he flees back to his place.

But then Janus is standing before him, smiling. He’s so handsome. He’s so incredible. He’s so happy that this is the father of his children, the man he’s married once, the man he’s going to marry again.

Janus offers his hands. Patton seizes them, squeezing hard, almost blinded by his happy tears.

“I love you,” is all Patton can say, murmured under the swell of music.

“I love you too,” Janus whispers back, under the rustle of everyone sitting down again.

He can hear Roman’s daydreamy sigh and can only hope that Remus will suppress the urge to go “UGHHH” at an inopportune time in the ceremony.

“Ready?” The officiator murmurs. Patton and Janus nod, not taking their eyes off each other, and the officiator turns on his microphone.

“Friends, family, and loved ones, we are gathered here today…”

Janus squeezes his hands. Patton smiles at him.

Yeah.

They’re ready.

previous chapter | masterpost

[infaethible]

I love your object biology HC, I like to wonder about object instincts like, if you pick up suitcase by the handle would she got limp like a cat. I wonder about more comparison of the object material and animals, like bug glass and beastly metal. (I'm curious about wooden objects mostly)

suitcase is mostly helpless when picked up by the handle, so it's naturally something she avoids. it's not quite like being scruffed, but it's often something she just resigns herself to, as people don't much care to listen.

here's a few materials and the type of animals i associate with them. do keep in mind that there can definitely be exceptions!

Glass - Insectoid; mostly inspired by cockroaches and beetles Metal - Reptilian (more like fantasy reptiles such as dragons; often horned and bearing fur) Leather - Herbivorous mammal; cervids, bovines Wood - Ambiguously mammalian; somewhere between feline and canine, think fox or hyena! Paper - Mammalian; mostly based on wildcats for me. Paper (II) for example is a fishing cat Plastic - Depends on type of plastic + product in question Plant (non-flower, non-fruit) - Usually simply plantlike, though of course some have paws and tails Flower - Still very planty, but appear mustelid (weasel, ferret, etc) Fruit - Avian or feline; usually mix of both Vegetable - Victims of the kobold dilemma... they're either lizards, or dogs! Stone - Appear mostly like prehistoric creatures, the type depends on the minerals in the stone and how they manifest.

[gynoids-over-androids]

Pinatex, other pleathers with fibers made from the agricultural industry's waste are still made by taking these fibers and pouring polyurethane on it. For example pinatex has 18% PLA (biodegradable but NOT compostable plastic used also in 3d printing) and 10% polyurethane. So, not recyclable either. The only difference between usual pleathers and pinatex or other new pleathers is that the old ones use cotton (recycled or not) and the new ones use byproducts of farming. Vegan leather MUST use plastic, there's no other choice AFAIK.

Idk much abt cork fabrics/"leathers" but the ones I saw still use plastic.

Leather is mostly a byproduct of the farming industry too (otherwise it's very expensive) . Nobody is raising cows only for their hides. The problem is leather tanning and other treatments can use toxic chemicals. There are plant based dyes now though.

The most sustainable leather is second hand real leather. There's no shortage, especially since many leather accessories or garments on the more expensive side are well made and last very long.

"Vegan leather" babygirl that is plastic

[chloeunitfive]

Sustainable fabrics

Given that material manufacturing and processing account for the majority of fashion's carbon footprint, it's no surprise that there has been a renewed focus on textile innovation across the sector recently. Just this year, Stella McCartney debuted its first purse made from Mylo, an alternative leather derived from mushroom roots; Zara debuted its first goods produced from LanzaTech's carbon-capturing material; and Gucci owner Kering invested in lab-grown leather start-up VitroLabs. It's a positive step forward for Nina Marenzi, the founder of the Future Fabrics Expo, which is celebrating its tenth anniversary this year. "Ten years ago, it was just not understood why there was a need in the first place to have materials that have a lower environmental impact," she told Vogue at the time. "Now it's become very clear that unless you really are involved in these discussions and trying to establish these partnerships, you're going to be left behind." Finding alternatives to conventional leather is one area that has seen a lot of innovation, considering that the cattle sector as a whole is responsible for 14.5 percent of world greenhouse gas emissions. Mycelium-based materials like Mylo and MycoWorks, as well as plastic-free alternatives like Mirum, are among the frontrunners. “We’ve always said that if you move away from leather, you have to really look at what you are replacing it with,” Marenzi says. “And if you’re replacing it with plastic, that’s not right.” There has also been a push to create recycled textiles from post-consumer trash, which has been a big problem for the industry thus far (typically, recycled materials used in fashion come from manufacturing waste or other sectors, with plastic bottles being a good example). "Even five years ago, when there was talk about textile-to-textile recycling, people were thinking that's something [for further] in the future; it's too far away," Marenzi said. "But if you show them pioneering trials, and say, 'Look, this is possible', then we can actually scale it." Meanwhile, bio-based alternatives to synthetics, including Clarus, which turns natural fibres into high-performance materials, and Kintra, a corn-based polyester that’s fully biodegradable, are also on the rise. 

Mylo:

Mylo, backed by Stella McCartney, Adidas, Gucci owner Kering, and Lululemon, is a "un-leather" created from fungus roots. Before going through the typical tanning process that animal hides go through, large sheets of foamy foam are formed from fungus cells. While Mylo is mostly built of bio-based materials, it is not entirely plastic-free, however it has set a goal of removing all synthetic elements.

Reishi

MycoWorks' Reishi substance, like Mylo, is created from mycelium sheets that are grown from specifically designed cells and nourished with agricultural waste. The sheets are then processed with a chromium-free tanning technique that uses no synthetic components. Last year, MycoWorks released its first products with Hermès and received $125 million in capital to help it grow in January.

Mirum

Mirum, developed by Natural Fibre Welding, is a plastic-free alternative to leather made from plants and minerals. According to the business, the material may be recycled indefinitely, making it completely circular. Mirum goods were initially created by Allbirds and Pangaia, with Ralph Lauren also investing in the firm.

Piñatex

Piatex, created from pineapple waste, was one of the first alternative leathers to hit the market and has since been embraced by a broad range of companies, from H&M to Hugo Boss. The vegan leather now includes a bio-based material, PLA, and is coated with a PU coating for durability.

Vegea

Another plant-based leather is Vegea, made from grape waste from the wine industry. Since winning the H&M Foundation Global Change Award in 2017, the material – which still contains 45 per cent PU – has been used by the likes of Ganni, Pangaia and Calvin Klein.

VitroLabs

VitroLabs' lab-grown leather, which mimics the appearance and feel of real leather, is made using only a few animal cells after obtaining $46 million in investment earlier this year. With Kering as one of its backers, it's definitely one to keep an eye on.

Reference:

Emily Chan. (2022). 12 Materials Of The Future That Could Change The Face Of Fashion. [Online]. British Vogue. Last Updated: 29 June 2022. Available at: https://www.vogue.co.uk/fashion/article/new-sustainable-materials [Accessed 8 November 2023].

[antheia]

Chapstick Steddie brainrot

Steve actually likes that Eddie smokes. Robin says it’s gross and he’s gross for liking it, but whatever. Robin isn’t the one kissing him. 

He likes that Eddie smells like tobacco and leather and sweat and motor oil (and sometimes weed). He likes sharing a cigarette with Eddie in bed late at night, wrapped in cheap cotton sheets, an ashtray perched on one of their chests. He loves the way Eddie’s eyes shimmer in the flames when Steve lights a cigarette for him.

Really the only problem Steve has is the way it dries Eddie’s lips out. And this is a totally solvable problem. Steve knows it’s solvable. He himself has solved it. But maybe Eddie never had to play Seven Minutes in Heaven with Becky Molinczek in the eighth grade. Which was more like ten seconds of awkward kissing followed by five minutes of Becky lecturing him about the importance of lip care in making out while digging around in her purse for chapstick only to produce a cherry lip smacker she then demanded he put on if he wanted any more time in Heaven. 

That was the first time he’d touched an honest-to-God boob. Her left one. He was pretty sure it was mostly boob and only a little tissue. He still gets a semi when he smells fake cherries. 

—

He figures he’ll start subtly: making sure to put on some chapstick in front of Eddie after they stub out their smokes to head back into the Wheeler house. He smiles at Eddie, who leans in and murmurs “mmm, shiny” before stealing a kiss. Completely ignoring the black and white plastic tube Steve has proffered. 

—

For two weeks, Steve leaves chapsticks everywhere he can think of. There’s one currently melting in Eddie’s glove box. Another one is gathering dust on Eddie’s nightstand. He’d held his breath hopefully when Eddie’s hand alighted on the one in his guitar case, but he was moving it aside in search of a pick. Hell, Steve had even tucked one in the pocket of Eddie’s denim jacket when he kissed him goodnight last Friday. 

Eddie was impervious to subtlety. It was time to go full Molinczek. 

— 

Steve had Thursdays off, so he and Eddie had started having movie nights on Wednesdays. He honestly couldn’t remember the end of a single movie they’d chosen. The doorbell rang just as Steve is putting popcorn on the coffee table. 

Steve waits until Eddie is settled in, then climbs into his lap. Eddie holds him by the hips and grins. “Okay, Harrington. I guess we’re not gonna watch the movie after all.” 

Steve ignores him, leaning in for a kiss. While he’s got Eddie distracted, he reaches into the pocket of the jacket Eddie had haphazardly thrown across the back of the couch and produces a small plastic tube. Opening the lid, he breaks away from the kiss. 

“This, Edward, is Chapstick.” Eddie looks at him like he’s deranged. 

“Uh huh.” 

“It’s for your lips,” Steve continues, applying it to his own lips liberally. 

“I’m familiar.” 

“And you know, smoking really chaps your lips,” Steve levels a look at him, holding his eyes for a moment before leaning in to plant a deep kiss on Eddie’s mouth, spreading the balm across Eddie’s lips. 

When they finally break apart, Eddie grins up at him. “Please, for the love of god and my mouth, wear it.” 

“Only if that’s always how I get to apply it.” 

Steve rolls his eyes and starts to say something, but it’s cut off when Eddie yanks him forward and kisses him again. 

The point’s probably been made. 

[dollsahoy]

I see some people are choosing to respond to that post with

"NOT ALL synthetic fabrics are petrochemical based!" which is true. but most synthetic fabrics are petrochemical based, to the point where those that aren't are usually called by name (rayon, viscose, acetate) instead of just 'synthetic fabric'

and lots of

"There are vinyls made from cactus and mushroom and other natural materials!" from people who haven't seen the independent analysis papers about how, with the current state of technology, all of the 'plant-based' 'leathers' merely include plant-based material, but are still mostly plastic ( http://thecircularlaboratory.com/plant-based-plastic-leathers-an-update-according-to-science )

and even better

"So we should just use REAL WHALEBONE then???????" listen. the point of the post is to call plastic plastic when it is indeed plastic. so, buying a modern corset? call the boning plastic. 'synthetic whalebone' is nothing but marketing spin for plastic.

if you're trying to save the world through your purchases, then at least admit you're buying plastic.

I will not be fielding comments on sustainability, because this post is simply about calling plastic plastic when it's plastic, especially when there aren't any natural options for what you need the material to do.

[red-riding]

Tolkien Elves Clothing Headcannons

Please read: These are only my headcanons, meaning my ideas and interpretations of what Tolkien's elves would have worn based on the text, my clothing knowledge, and imagination. I am in no way claiming this is how it should be. Also I own none of the photos used in this post. 

Also this is obnoxiously long and wordy, so if you skip to a section that interests you, I won't judge. I may have went ( A lot ) over bored ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Also I just want to say thank you so much for all the support I got on the post asking if I should do this, I hope it lives up to everyones expectations. 

Sources

Okay so in going on this journey of research, I ran into an issue. What culture or cultures to base the clothes off of. My first thought was to have each elven group take ideas from different human cultures. Which makes sense to an extent.

I feel elves would all dress more similar than different across Tolkien’s universe. My reason for this is all the elves started out in the same place (the awakening) and were all exposed to the same things. I believe their clothing would be strongly influenced by the Valar due to Orome’s influence in the beginning and since elves are immortal this influence would not die out as generations go on (I talk about this in the trends section of this post).

If you look in human societies throughout history, they are often unified culturally, despite being far apart, by a religion and I'm applying this to elves. They would emulate the Valar’s clothing in my mind.

Okay now that I narrowed down that I want to use one culture mostly, what culture to pick? There honestly is no right answer to this I feel, but i'm going with European influence (Which is super general I know) since that is where the concept of elves originates from and Tolkien was English. Elves started making their way into stories and poetry in around the 1500s, so that gives me a general area and date to start forming my headcanon. I'm also going to take quite a lot of liberties and take influence from the Lord of the rings films, and general fantasy aesthetics as well to form these headcanons.

Fabrics

When talking about clothes the first place to start is what they are made of: the fabric. What kind of fabric would the elves use and have available to them. When coming up with this I considered two main things, One how durable the fabric is and two could elves make it.

I think durability would be extremely important to elves. According to the International textile association, the average regularly worn garment will last two to three years. Imagine how short of a time period that is to elves! This is why I believe durability would be extremely important to elves, they want something to last. especially the less wealthy elves because they can not afford constant new clothing.

I am only going to list clothing I think the elves could realistically make, so no polyester, plastic and chemical based fabrics.

Considering these two things I have come up with this list using this website as reference. 

Canvas

Cashmere 

Chenille 

Chiffon 

Cotton

Georgette (Silk variety) 

jersey (Silk and cotton variety) 

Leather and Animal Skins/furs 

Wool (And all its woven variants) 

Muslin 

Lace

Satin 

Silk (And all its differently woven Variants)

Taffeta 

Velvet 

Silhouette 

Note: We are looking at shape/Silhouette in this section, don't mind the colors or fabrics in my reference photos. 

So if you study fashion history and culture at all you know the silhouette is one of the defining things of a culture and era. This brings on the question of what the Silhouette for elves would be. I think elves would share one general silhouette with similarities between the male and female silhouettes but have differences as well. This also applies to elves of different lands. They may have the same general silhouette with slightly different things.  

For Elleths

For the common elleth silhouette I am going to say one thing SLEEVES. This is taking inspiration from both the LOTR movie and 1500s european paintings and fashion. long graceful sleeves is something I think would be an elven stable on formal/evening gowns. I feel there would be different styles of sleeves however the most common would be something like this. However I will say for casual work wear they would yield unhelpful. 

Another thing I feel most elleth dresses would have is a waist seam. This is one thing I strongly dislike about the LOTR movie dress, a majority of the dresses at their base looks like a modern slip dress or a night gown and im not a fan. I understand this was probably a stylistic choice to represent how refined and ellagent the elves were, but to me it just looks like an ill fitted fast fashion nightgown. Here is a link to a good example photo if you want to look. Almost no dresses until the last hundred years lacked a waist seam like this. Some cultures don't have a waist seam in woman clothing but will almost always have a belt like garnet if there is no seam. And I personally think waist seemed gowns, look far more elegant. Plus 1500s european gowns all had waist seams so we are adding a waist seam. 

Now the skirt, I feel it would be simple and more on the flat flowing side. No hoop skirts or bum roles for the elves. I do think in some gowns they may add some under lawyers to add volume and or warmth. 

For Ellons 

I actually really like the LOTR movies interruption of elven male robes for formal situations, Here is an example. I also think similar styles but shorter would be worn by either younger ellons or ellons wanting to branch out in a different style for a formal occasion. Here is an example. 

For General Elves 

I feel something both genders would share in their formal and non formal clothes is the use of capes in very versatile ways. The cape could have a function like keeping one warm, or just be purely for show and drastic flare as one descends from their throne *cough* Thranduil, Feanor *Cough*. Here are some examples: Example 1, Example 2, Example 3. 

Now onto the talk of practical clothing. No matter how graceful elves are they can not wear gowns and robes when training or horse back riding. I imagine simple slacks and tunics would be a common site among elves who do physical activities. What Legolas wears in the lord of the rings, is perfect I feel. Practical and rather similar to what humans wear. Here is the example. 

Colors

I feel the elves would have clothing of all colors overall. depending on a couple things. Elves' clothing colors would be different depending on the environment and what dyes they have available in it. As well as what colors function best in an environment, so a lot of greens.

I don't think elven royals would enforce any laws that limits what colors an elf can wear depending on class like most royals throughout human history have. I do feel that certain elven houses, or elves would take on certain color themes. For example I believe Feanor and his house would wear a whole lot of reds, and blacks. While Finarfin and his house would be wearing more blues, whites and silver.

I think plant based dyes would be the most common among elves, making their clothing fall more on earthy toned down colors, opposed to bright synthetic ones we are used to (See mood board above). I do think some brighter colors could be achieved by dying a garment multiple times or using a rarer material like minerals. However I feel majorly would be as I said earthy and natural.

Embellishments 

I believe elves would dabble in all forms of embellishments on their clothing, I mean they have so much time on their hands so why not? I think embroidery would probably be the most common, Little swirled designs on hems and such. Bead work probably would be reserved for more formal garments, due to it being done with crystals and gems and taking lots of time.

I think what designs elves created would mostly be inspired by nature. Different flowers, birds, and stars being the most common.

I think some elven royals would have robes glistened with sewed on diamonds and jewels, to draw attention to themselves and show status.

Environments 

(Note: The way I arranged this mood board above is by environment. So Beach/tropical first row, Temperate forest middle, and snowy cold place third row.)

I feel the main thing that will be changing between different environments and temperatures is what materials they use. Fur and wool lined cloaks and robes for cold places. Light breathable fabric, decorated with sea shells for tropical beach environments. And cotton and medium warmth clothing for forests. I also feel for hunting clothing elves in forests would wear green, and in snowy areas would wear white furs.

I believe elves would still maintain the same general silhouette in different areas (Go to the Silhouette section for more details) just adding on layers and warmer fabrics in colder places.

Trends

So this section does not get a mood bored because I could not think of what that would be.

Trends are something extremely prevalent throughout human culture, often decided by those in power: Celebrities nowadays and in the past royalty. I don't think elves would have trends like we do, for two main reasons.

Reason one is as I said, trends in the past were decided by royals and oftentimes when a new royal took throne fashions would change in their image. However elven rulers don't die of old age like humans, they live forever. making the constant change of trends not occur with each new ruler because there is not a new ruler often. When there is a new ruler it is most likely extremely tragic because that means the past ruler died, and the next  (Most likely a child of the old ruler ) would probably not want to cause a drastic change in clothing out of respect.

Reason two being age groups. Trends often times change as new age groups move into the prime of their life and old generations die out. However elves are immortal and don't die out. I have no doubt younger elves would dress somewhat differently but there would be no massive clothing changes, In silhouette or fabrics due to the older elves pushing back against it. As well as the elves wanting to continue emulating the Valar.

Everyone who asked to be tagged and I want to show this too: @psychostatic, @deep-space-elf, @bitter-sweet-farmgirl, @tiefliing, @animallover81, @softnessfrommyheart, @xmarchwarden-of-lothlorienx, @hardinginhightowns, @xirinofarvada, @gossip-girl-of-middle-earth, @brannonlasgalen, @most-random-blog-with-stuff, @aduialel, @a-dragon-under-the-stars, @proffyaffle, @estel-means-hope, @eldritch-gilthoniel, @tsuyu-sama, @lady-of-black-roses, @perhaps-iwilltry, @lady-latte, @allinwonderlands , @saviorsong, @entishramblings, @rowandor, @halfwaytheremama, @tran-khuetu​, @tolkien-fantasy​

[vinceaddams]

True, people nowadays are much more disconnected from where their clothing comes from than they were for most of history :(

I guess I wouldn't blame them for thinking that, but for posting about it so confidently? ehhghhhh, yeah, I do.

I don't think anyone gets to call a name "pretentious" if they don't even know wether it refers to a fibre or a weave structure, and I think it's reasonable to expect someone to know what a thing is made of before they complain about that it's made of. A quick google search at the very least.

Every piece of taffeta I have is silk! I have only ever seen sateen in cotton! Broadcloth just means it's wide!! I have wool broadcloth!

The whole "just say plastic" sentiment I've been seeing around tumblr a lot the past few years is one I both agree with and am annoyed by.

I agree in that I very much hate when fabric stores use deceptive labels, like polyester that's made to look kind of like linen sold as "linen look", or all the various ways they're making fake leather now that's pretending to be plant based but is still mostly vinyl.

But it's also irritating because there are so many different kinds of synthetic fibre with so many different purposes (elastane for being very stretchy, lurex for being very shiny and sparkly, etc.) and just calling it all plastic is much less informative. Specific names for those are useful, and complaining about those being accurately labelled is as foolish as going "cotton, linen, hemp? ugh so pretentious just say plant fibre".

I've even seen synthetic whalebone listed in one of those kinds of posts! (I think in one where you reblogged it and pointed out that synthetic whalebone is a specific product made to mimic the properties of actual whalebone, and that it's synthetic for a very good reason, but due to tumblr's wonderfully effective search function I cannot find it.)

I think part of the problem here is that people on the internet are allergic to nuance. Can't complain about a thing being overused but useful in some circumstances, the opinion pendulum must swing all the way and declare it all bad.

I AM a polyester hater, but I also appreciate the small percentage of spandex in my socks, and the shiny lurex in my metallic/silk blend brocades.

Yes I am frustrated by how much fabric is polyester, but I'm also very annoyed by people who know absolutely nothing about textiles just assuming every fabric word they don't recognize must be plastic.

Big "oooh there are CHEMICALS in my food that I can't pronounce, they must be bad!!" energy.

[doinsomethingdaily]

Eating a plant-based diet is one of the most impactful ways to reduce your resource demand and emissions. I saw a post from you recently which said "we cannot consume ourselves to a greener world", but I have since seen posts from you advocating for one form of consumption over another for ecological reasons, including more expensive materials. Would you ever consider advocating for people to stop eating cows and dairy due to their outsized climate impact?

Hi, I am going to answer you ask in two parts because I feel we are addressing many different topics already right now.

First and foremost I want to say that I think that the agricultural system needs a drastic change in general. But yes mostly the animal agricultural chain right now is devastating. However I think advising a plant based diet is very complicated, there are many factors and to be honest I personally do not know enough about all the nutrition and economic and cultural factors. From a environmental standpoint I say if you can reduce you meat and diary intake as much as possible that would be great.

I think your ask originally comes from the post where I argued in the tags that I really do not like vegan leather and I do like wool? Because microplastics are everywhere & we have no idea what the impact is going to be but that it has impact on biodiversity and system health is almost certain. (if you would like some paper on this let me know! I am currently writing something on microplastics in surface water)

I also know that the traditional leather industry is very polluting. I just don't think that we should therefore make more plastics. The garment industry in general is terrible and should also be reformed. (We are not even touching on the human right problems in all these sectors mentioned before)

"we cannot consume ourselves to a greener world" this quote or how I interpreted the sentiment is that a truly "green utopian future" or any sustainable future is not possible in the current capitalistic system since it demands constant growth. It is not going to be solved by just making green consumer choices. It does not mean that you can not make choices for yourself which could be more environmentally friendly then others. Me buying a wool sweater instead of acrylic sweater is not the big systematic change that is going to save the planet but the acrylic sweater is still bad for the environment if that makes sense.

(Obviously this addresses mostly the global north and people who are not in poverty when we are talking about consumption and choices. I think all people have a right to have access to high quality foods & clothes but I realise that is not the reality that we are in right now)

I hope I explained myself well and touched on all your points

[vergess]

isnt that cactus leather still partially plastic like its less plastic than other fake leathers but iirc there is still some plastic in it

Ah, so it is. Having dried nopales myself, I figured the texture was close enough to leather that it could probably be a mostly plant based product, but I was mistaken. You're right, it's actually mostly plastic.

So I've deleted the misleading ass video.

Turns out the most durable environmentally friendly leather alternative is still minimally processed kombucha SCOBYs, which are pretty notoriously weaker and more difficult to work with that animal hides, followed by the even weaker mushroom cap stuff.

For decorative purposes (non-working clothing and accessories, excluding shoes), kelp/tencel blends are probably the winner, given their softness and breathability, but tencel comes with its own problems so eh.

[dwellordream]

“...First, let’s talk about materials. We can rule out a Steppe Nomad inspiration for any of this right off. The Eurasian Steppe is very large and covers a range of arid climates (that is to say, parts of it are colder, parts of it are warmer), but they all have spinning and weaving technology, by which the supple hairs of woolly animals, or plant fibers like linen, or cotton, or even natural protein fibers like silk can be fashioned into fabric which is more flexible, comfortable, breathable and temperature controlled than the raw leather we see in the show.

...there is a distinct lack here of lots of leather, except in the sort of things that lots of cultures use leather for (boots, fittings, saddles, bags, tents). Instead, clothing is mostly made out of nice, comfortable, breathable textiles, because of course it is. That is not to say, to be clear, that leather or hides or fur were never used – fur especially was used; merely that they were generally used to supplement clothing primarily made out of textile.

...Now Plains Native American clothing does make much greater use of animal skin as a clothing material, but there is an important distinction to be made here. The problem here is with the plasticity of the term ‘leather’ which can technically include a wide range of products, but in practice is understood to mean exactly what the Game of Thrones costume department and literally every piece of official artwork of the Dothraki understand it to mean, which is the product of tanning processes.

I am not an expert, but as far as I can tell, Native American clothing was not made in the same way; animal products were used in a process I have seen described as ‘brain tanning’ (rather than using chemical tannins) and the final product was then smoked. The result – which is often called ‘buckskin’ regardless of the animal source for the hide – is very different from the leather we see in the show.

This is, in terms of material, very clearly not what the ‘vests’ the Dothraki in the show are wearing. Buckskin would also be used to make trousers, as opposed to the “horsehair leggings” of Martin’s wording, which also strike me as deeply improbable. Haircloth – fabric made from horsehair (or camel hair) – is durable, but typically stiff, unsupple and terribly itchy; not something you want in direct contact with your skin (especially not between your rear end and a saddle), unless you just really like skin irritation. It is also a difficult material to get in any kind of significant quantity – and you would need a significant quantity if you intended to make most of your trousers out of it.

...Well that’s for materials, what about patterns? Once again, we can quite easily rule out anything steppe inspired. Again, the Eurasian Steppe is big and has lots of variety, but relatively long robes are generally the norm in terms of dress; where long robes were not worn (see our Scythian above), the common pattern was heavy sleeved garments and trousers with very complete coverage. A common example of the type of long robe-like garments is the Mongolian deel, a long sleeved robe or tunic which provides a lot of protection against the elements. In the case of elites – and Daenerys is, initially, mostly around elites – these could be made of expensive silk or brocade – but poorer versions might be made of wool.

...And there is good reason for these relatively high-coverage garments. Plains or Steppe peoples naturally tend to live on, well, plains and steppes – that is large expanses of semi-arid grasslands. The very nature of that terrain configuration produces fairly extreme seasonal temperature variations (that is, very hot summers and very cold winters) as well as extreme daily temperature variations (that is, hot days and cold nights) because such places are far from large bodies of water and also don’t have tree-cover, both of which serve to moderate rapid temperature changes.

Consequently, as anyone who has lived in a plains state in the USA (or on the Eurasian Steppe, though that is fewer of my readers, but for my brave handful of hits from that part of the world, hello and welcome!) can tell you, you need clothes that can be layered and which can be both warm in the winter and cool in the summer. For us moderns, we mostly do this by owning multiple season-specific wardrobes, but clothing is expensive in pre-modern societies, so multi-purpose garments, or garments that be layered, to turn a warm-weather outfit into a cold-weather outfit are important!

There’s no reason to suppose the Dothraki Sea would be any different: it sits at about the same latitude as King’s Landing so there is little reason to assume it would be warm all-year-round. Parts of the Eurasian Steppe stretch decently far south, sharing a latitude with northern Italy and Spain; nevertheless they do not enjoy the same Mediterranean climate because they don’t have the same exposure to the weather patterns created by the sea. The southern end of the Great Plains stretches down all the way into Texas, but still gets properly cold in the winter with temperatures regularly dipping below freezing in the winter despite the latitude. For a people who are camping and working outside all of the time, warm clothing is going to be a must.

...There is tremendous variety here, but I don’t think any of it could be aptly described simply as “Men and women alike wore painted leather vests over bare chests and horsehair leggings.” Now, if you looked hard enough could you find something that resembled Martin’s leather vests, bare chests and horsehair leggings somewhere in the clothing of Native Americans across two continents? Probably, but among the specific Native peoples that Martin cites as inspiration, it does not seem to be at all common. And if that description was wholly unconnected to anything in the real world, we might well stop there and conclude that, well this is just the ‘dash of pure fantasy’ that Martin was talking about (although as we’ll see, it is going to be quite a bit more than just a dash). But I don’t think we can stop there, because (removing the medallion belts) Martin’s description does adequately describe something that exists in the real world: Halloween costumes purporting to depict Native Americans.

...The vest-and-pants style of Native American Halloween costume seems to be rather rare now, but it was, at least to my memory, much more common in the 1990s, when A Game of Thrones was written (initial publication date of 1996). You can see them, for instance, on many of the background extras in the famous Thanksgiving scene from Addams Family Values (1993) and that vest style was also a part of the outfit for the also-quite-unfortunately-branded YMCA Indian Guides/Indian Princesses program (rebranded as the ‘Adventure Guides’ in 2003 after decades of Native Americans complaining about it) which was also fairly popular in the 1990s.

Now, I am not saying that Martin planned to construct his Dothraki out of Native American stereotypes and bad Halloween costumes. In fact, I am fairly confident he intended nothing of the sort. But in the absence of doing some effective research (and it is going to become increasingly apparent that at least effective research was not done) there was quite possibly nothing else to inform the effort other than what was ‘in the air’ of the popular consciousness. Of course the danger of those often simplistic public stereotypes is that people often do not know that they have them, assuming instead that the vague impression they have is essentially accurate (or at least, close enough for a regular person). And that’s a real problem because it reinforces the popular stereotype, especially given Martin’s reputation for writing more ‘historically grounded’ fiction. And that is a problem because…

The clothing that the Dothraki are described and visually shown wearing is clearly intended to convey things about their society. Returning to our visual comparison above, it is easy to see that the actual clothing of both Eurasian and American ‘horse cultures’ was often bright, highly decorated and generally eye-catching, featuring complex patterns and shapes. It was both nice looking, but also spoke to the humanity of the people that made it and their very human desire to look nice and have nice looking things. By contrast, the clothing of the Dothraki is presented as simple, rugged and unadorned.

...I want to stress this to make the point clear: people in the past liked to look nice! Much of the popular perception of pre-modern clothing assumes lots of dull, drab colors, undecorated or merely adorned with rough pelts, but this is almost entirely a Hollywood construction. The Romans didn’t exclusively dress in white (indeed, the toga candida, the white toga, was an unusually formal thing to wear, like a politician’s suit-with-flag-pin), medieval peasants didn’t wear drab brown (they dressed in bright primary colors mostly), and as I hope the historical pictures for this essay show, both steppe nomads and Plains Native Americans wore nice clothing with lots of patterns, color and decoration. These men next to Khal Drogo are his elite guard of ‘bloodriders,’ the companions of a ruler who wields tremendous power and wealth! And yet they have opted to wear mostly undecorated bland brown leather.

Just to underline this point, think about what a fine set of clothing communicates to an observer (for instance, one of Khal Drogo’s thousands of mounted warrior retainers who are present at this event). Imported goods, like metalwares (which nomads won’t generally be able to make themselves) or fine imported fabrics demonstrate not only trade contacts but also often that the leader has useful ties to foreign leaders (since such things were often gifts or tribute from foreign courts). Garments whose production, due to fine patterns, complex weaves, intricate beading or quillwork, would take many, many hours of production demonstrate that the leader has a lot of subordinate people in their household (in many cases, that would mean women), which both implies the ability to give these people as gifts (either in marriage or because of their non-free status) and also the access to resources (in this case herds of animals) needed to sustain so many people – in short, the sort of leader who can reward faithful warriors richly.

And of course a leader who outfits his closest retainers – his bloodriders, in this case – with such wares (especially expensive foreign metal military equipment) demonstrates both access to military capital and also the ability to reward his trusted lieutenants. In short, the Khal whose person and immediate retainers are decked out in finery looks like backing the winning side, which is a very important thing to assess as one of his warriors. So even if not one of Drogo’s men cares about their personal appearance at all, it is still politically important for them to dress for success.

Which then demands the question, looking at the very fine clothing of historical horse cultures that supposedly provided the inspiration for these Dothraki fellows: Where is the exquisite bead work? The fine quillwork? Where are the carefully made fringes? Where is the silk brocade? Where are the detailed, complex patterns?”

- Bret Devereaux, “That Dothraki Horde, Part I: Barbarian Couture.”

[chasing-rabbits]

There’s also the issue of assuming veganism is all about diet, plant based diets does not equal veganism. Even in this example it’s focusing on food which I understand why and I get the point but the thing is as you said it’s about harm reduction. If you can’t or aren’t willing to give up any animal products at all in your diet then you can choose other options. You can stop buying leather, you can make sure to buy stuff that’s labelled cruelty free or not tested on animals where possible (some items are more expensive and not realistic especially in todays financial climate I mostly see this with items like household cleaners & such. I think it is also inflated because it’s less about veganism and more about being eco friendly and I think that label makes companies think it gives them the right to charge stupid prices sometimes a bit like GF food being extortionate - especially the fucking bread) Anyways this post makes a very valid point and I live by the whole look you can eat what you want I’m not going to preach to you or try & force you to eat a plant based diet. At the end of the day you do you I have my beliefs you have yours. But when people use this kind of thinking it is a little annoying if you don’t want to go vegan fine but when people try and do a ‘gotcha’ moment with vegans when they talk about mice dying for harvesting crops and so on they think they’ve done something but in reality they’ve not got us at all. We know animals die for our food we know that no food is going to avoid animal deaths entirely. I think people forget or ignore the definition of veganism ‘Veganism is a philosophy and way of living which seeks to exclude—as far as is possible and practicable—all forms of exploitation of, and cruelty to, animals…’ and it continues on but the important part is ‘as far as is possible and practicable. It’s about doing what you personally can which means veganism looks different for everyone and whilst yes usually veganism would define someone who follows a totally plant based diet and doesn’t buy leather and so on you can technically be vegan whilst still consuming animal products. I am vegan I was fully plant based for 8 years until more recently where I’ve had to include fish in my diet (not because of nutritional needs or deficiencies more so based around my disabilities and other things which aren’t relevant right now) do I still define myself as vegan, yes. Do others accept me as vegan? Yes. Because I’m doing what is possible and practicable for me at this moment in time. I also love that point about the cheese so many people say ‘I’d go vegan BUT I can’t give up cheese’ but it’s like okay?? You want to still eat cheese go ahead but that doesn’t mean you can’t stop eating meat or eggs or stop buying leather. And if you really don’t want to do that then that’s fine but for people who say that & actually do genuinely mean it then why aren’t you cutting out everything else but cheese if you really mean you’d go vegan if it wasn’t for cheese then go vegan but eat your cheese. And for people who can’t give up meat or can’t eat plant based you can still give up buying leather, or choose vegan/cruelty free products you could still make eco conscious choices stop buying fast fashion, recycle more, use less plastic - i.e buy reusable cups so you don’t have to use the plastic ones at places like costa etc. People take an all or nothing approach to veganism and it’s not that simple but they’d like it to be because then it makes it easier for them to argue against us and to paint us all as said above ‘moral purists’.

A lot of ppl don't get veganism bc they think it's a philosophy that seeks moral purity, "if I was stuck on a deserted island with no food other than a pig I'd eat the pig, therefore I can't be vegan" type of reasoning shows this very clearly.

"But what if maybe some mice were killed while harvesting plants"

"I have this medication I need to take that isn't vegan...that's why I can't order a vegan burger from the menu"

"I like cheese too much...that's why I keep eating meat with every meal"

Like nobody understands harm reduction and they seem to assume that we vegans are also all so obsessed with doing everything in the most morally pure way and that, if we knew that there's nuance to it, it would also paralyze us into inaction.

No sorry, that's just you projecting. Personally, I live by the philosophy that all change has to come from somewhere, even if it's small, and I'm fully aware that there's no perfect way to do good, but I won't let that stop me.

I don't care about perfection, I just want fewer animals to suffer & die, it's literally that simple.

[honeycombwerewolfe]

Bernie’s New Journal

The binding creaked, pages flitting from her thumb like the shuffle of a worn deck of cards as she opened it. It wasn’t thickened by damp ruined pages or mementos shoved between pages. The leather bound journal was crisp and new...pages unfilled. White textured paper staring back at her: waiting. Serena had tried to give Bernie’s journal back a while ago but Bernie had told her to keep it. That -

“- it was always meant for you, Serena.”

She had plenty of opportunities to start up again when she moved in with Serena but she never even took the plastic off the new one Serena bought her. There were plenty of excuses she could give but the truth was Bernie was afraid of the words she would fill those pages with. Afraid even if she tried to fill it with plants and Serena...that the militia would bleed through until the journal was saturated with everything Bernie wanted least to think about.

A little over a month had passed since the explosion at Holby. There had been plenty to keep her busy...but now there was too much quiet for her thoughts to spill into. Instead of spending another day crying out all her energy until she was a zombie...instead of allowing herself to drag Serena through the pain of being the only thing carrying Bernie through her grief...Bernie picked up the journal and decided to at least try to pick up some of the slack. Sat curled up in a reading chair with a hot cup of coffee and a pen, she stared warily down at the first page.

She scribbled the city and date at the top, mostly so she wouldn’t have the blank page looming there.

.

I’ve only melted down once today. All things considered, a better day than yesterday. I’m worried about Charlie. Some time away from that flat would be good for her. People have the potential for such cruelty under the cowardice of anonymity. Crueler still when the mob feeds into it. I swung by again Tu Wednes no, Tuesday to help clean up the latest graffiti and make sure she was eating. The inside of her flat may have actually been worse off than anything anyone else did to the outside. She’s still refusing to come stay with Serena and me at the B&B. It may have been a tight fit when she slept on the bed here with Serena and me the last time but it was good to have her near again.

.

The pages filled on the days that followed were much the same. Entrees that followed the footprints of one Major Berenice Wolfe through dreary day after dreary day. Cam’s death and the events surrounding it were never mentioned but they were still present underneath each entree...permeating every activity, action, and emotion of herself and those around her.

[spideeysense]

The cat sitter falls in love with it's owner. A Bucky Barnes/Reader fic! Chapter 1.

A/N: Hey y'all!! I'm back with a brand NEW fic for y'all! This will be a multipart series. Obviously, for fic reason, it will not follow the TFATWS plot to a T. There will most likely be plot points taken from it however. With that being said, each chapter will have a varying degree of spoilers (I'm so sorry!!), but I hope you all enjoy it! (P.S This fic will be a SLOOW BURN!) Please let me know if you'd like me to start a taglist for this series! Feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Don't be afraid to request! Edit: this is will not be released following every TFATWS episode.

This first chapter centers around James (Bucky), the start of his friendship.

Word Count: 1520

Warnings: None!

“Hand me your phone James.” The therapist says, rather sternly. Bucky pauses as if to speak. But decides against it, and defeatedly hands her his phone.

He watches her scroll through his minimal contact and text messages and sighs when her eyebrows shoot upwards.

“Well, this is new. Who’s Y/N?”

Bucky fumbles for a bit before speaking, ”She’s my neighbor, moved in right after the Blip.” He murmurs. The therapist scrolls through the messages between Bucky and you.

“You-“ The therapist pauses “watch her cat?”

Bucky nods. “Yeah, when she’s out of town, she visits her sister, cause she’s pregnant with her second kid.” The therapist purses her lips together and smiles. “Well this is progress, James. This is good”. James shakes his head. “I barely know her, I just watch her cat!” The therapist narrows her eyes as she scans the text. A few pictures of a fluffy gray cat appear the cat by the door, by the window, sleeping on a couch. All of these Bucky had sent.

[Bucky]: Sardine misses you. He keeps asking me when you’re coming home.

[Y/N]: Aw. Since when can you talk to my cat?

[Bucky]: We can speak through our eyes, he’s a kindred spirit you know.

[Y/N]: Good, Sardine needs some friends other than me.

[Bucky]: I think I’m his new favorite person.

[Y/N]: Shut up

He catches his phone with ease when the therapist tosses it back. “From what you just told me, and from what I just saw, you know her pretty well.” Bucky avoids her knowing stare and instead fixates on his leather gloves.

“Is she pretty?” He groans, and sinks into the couch.

“I-,yeah I guess she’s really pretty.” He mumbles, flexing his hands. “I’m not gonna say she’s ugly.” The therapist smiles at him and puts her small notebook to the side.

“You should a-” She starts.

“Can we go back to talking about making amends?” Bucky interrupts, knowing where this conversation was headed.

The therapist sighs and leans back into her chair. Defeated.

Later, while Bucky is walking home, his phone chimes. He fumbles with it in his pocket, before pulling it out.

[Y/N]: How did your thing go?

Bucky feels himself smiling as he types out a short message.

[Bucky]: Good.

At his apartment, he takes off his jacket and cleans up the few things he has. The TV is still on from when he left this morning, but he doesn’t mind. The sound is welcome in the neverending silence. He grabs a plastic water bottle from the fridge, and then leaves his apartment. He arrives in front of your door and fishes your key from out of his pocket. It takes a few tries to get the door open, and for a second he’s worried someone is going to think he is breaking in, but he sighs of relief when it swings open.

MroOOAAAAOOOOW. Bucky cringes at the long, angry, meowl of Sardine.

“Look buddy, I’m sorry I’m late.” He closes the door behind him and crouches down to pet Sardine. The cat walked in between his legs and rubs his head against Bucky’s outstretched hand. Mroooow. Sardine says, hungrily. “Ok, ok, I’ll feed you right away.” Bucky turns on the light in your apartment, and once again is taken aback. Your apartment is lively compared to his. There are plants by the window, on the coffee table, and on the counter. There are a few boxes still lying around from when you had moved in. The couch is a bit old but has a few knitted blankets strewn across it. Not much has changed since the first time he took care of Sardine.

It was already dark outside, and Bucky internally punched himself from arriving so late. He flicks on a light switch, and the kitchen lightens up. It’s quaint, and he can tell not everything is unpacked and put into place yet. He feels movement against his legs and looks down to find, a fluffy grey cat, circling around his legs calmly.

“Hey Buddy.” He whispers.

Soon, he’s rereading your texts to make sure he’s doing everything right. He feeds Sardine, gives him water, and rubs his head a little bit. Tentatively, he sits on the couch, careful not to disturb anything. Sardine hops onto his lap, and settles, purring softly. Smiling to himself, Bucky opts to use his flesh hand and strokes Sardine’s back. He stares around your apartment some more, but careful not to look too much, he didn’t want to pry. Bucky studies the few photos you have strung up, but in the mess of things, he spots a partially wrapped wedding photo. He assumes it’s yours, but secretly hopes it’s your sisters. He goes back to staring at the empty, black void of the television. Not really sure what to do next. He just sits and waits. He didn’t really want to cross some imaginary boundary and touch your stuff.

And as if she can sense his uncomfortableness from miles and miles away, his phone alerts him of a text message.

[Y/N]: Feel free to watch TV, I have Netflix set up. No cable. Sorry :(

Bucky smiles again.

[Bucky]: Ok, thanks.

He fumbles with the sleek remote control but figures it out eventually. He ends up putting on some random show he had found earlier. Bucky doesn’t really pay attention and instead relaxes a bit more into the couch. Sardine gingerly hops onto his lap and settles.

Bucky wanders around your apartment, before settling himself on the couch, like he always does. And as if on cue, Sardine hops into his lap. The two settle comfortably. Bucky turns on the TV, and shoes some random show. It’s alright. Sardine purrs softly on his lap.

You had told him that he didn’t need to spend hours with Sardine, but he had chose to (with your permission of course). He liked his mostly quiet companion. Sardine never judged, and sometimes he would find himself mumbling stories of his past to the cat, and Sardine never hissed, or scratched, or ran away. It’s almost as if Sardine could understand the guilt Bucky felt, the sadness, and sometimes the utter emptiness.

Hours later, a soft knock at your door pulled Bucky down from the dark expanse of his head and back down to earth.

He peered through the peep hole, and opened the door.

“Hey Y/N” The way your name fell off his tongue made your heart palpitate.

“Hi,” You breathed, and for a moment you and Bucky stayed in each others trance The color of his eyes always seemed to steal your breath away. “Thank you for taking care of Sardine, you didn’t have to stay up.” You finally spoke.

“No it’s fine, I wanted to.” Bucky said softly with a smile, “I mean- I wanted to make sure you got home safe. You know, long drive and all.” Bucky turned around and quickly grabbed his coat and pulled it on.

“You need any help with your luggage?” He asked kindly, and you politely declined. “No it’s alright, thank you though.” Bucky responded with a curt nod and a soft smile. “Here I got these for you!” You push a box into his hands enthusiastically. Bucky looks down, and finds a box labeled ‘Vermont Maple Syrup Cookies’. You look up at him expanctantly.

Bucky’s a bit shocked by the sudden gift, not many people have gifted him things. “Thank you.” He murmurs softly, his thumb tracing the lettering on the box.

“Now, if you excuse me, I probably need to see my son.” You chuckle and push past him. “Sardineeee! My baby!” You dote, rubbing your cat’s head with your cheek, and cradling him in your arms. Bucky smiles and gently shuts your apartment door.

Once inside his own apartment, Bucky can feel his heart beating out of his chest. He never feels this way. This isn’t normal for him. It has his head reeling, and for a moment he needs to lean against the counter and gather his thoughts. And his heart.

He stares down at the box of cookies in his hand, and puts the box on the counter. Gently opening the top, he pulls out the plastic cookie tray. The cookies are beige, and shaped like maple leaves, and the scent of maple syrup is heavy and sweet. He gingerly takes a bite, and chews slowly. Unlike the scent, the taste of maple syrup isn’t overpowering, it’s soft. The icing sandwiched between two cookies coats his tongue.

“Damn, these are good.” He says to nobody.

Deep down inside his stomach, a feeling is scartching at his insides. Is it jealousy? No. It’s a wanting. It’s a wanting for the warmth your apartment offers, the quiet and amicable peace. He sadly looks around his dim, grey apartment. It is definetly lacking.

But like he’s done most of his life. Bucky packs those feelings inside a brain box, and locks it. Tossing it into the void of his brain. Never to be opened again. At least, that’s what he tells himself.