#trying to get those pieces inside the baton is going to be a massive pain

[nejackdaw]

Baton update: the Finale

Guys I have done it. I strapped on my wax wings and unlike Icarus did not crash and burn. The baton. Is finished. And so is the base. Finished them both today. I might not have ever been much of a crafts guy but I am INCREDIBLY pleased with the final results. This started out as a pipe dream and now it's reality. Don't let your dreams be dreams etc etc

Showing her off first 💞💞💞 I'll add the rest of the images below a cut so this post isn't a mile long but AHHHHHH IT'S FINALLY DONE!!!! Guys I've been working on this since May but I was determined to finish it before the year let out

Here's the baton itself. What a beautiful pain in my ass. It's a regular 12" conductors baton so trying to turn it into Zelda's definitely not 12" Glorious Baton was. Awkward. I winged this entire thing. The grip/spiral is a rubber band. (Two, actually.) It's held together by sheer determination and super glue. I colored those pink roses with marker. The tail parts are made out of cardboard (half from a non corrugated bit off a package flap and half from a graham cracker box.). I couldn't find a wired ribbon to use for the end so I just cut a length of wire and fucking sewed it to the ribbon. Improvise, adapt, overcome.

The display base was simultaneously more and less of a hassle than the baton. Much less fine, close quarter work, much more difficulty getting things to stay put (this is a callout post for the garland, I'm looking directly at you.) Initially I made the actual display holder, which is 100% just painted wooden skewers, then I took MORE package cardboard and used that as the base. If I was a little more insane I'd add tiny lights somehow so the triforce could light up. The garland was. An absolute pain just 100% from having to decide which leaf extensions to remove to positioning them to trying to attach the damn thing (challenge: nearly impossible.) BUT it is surprisingly sturdy for what amounts to a piece of cardboard and some tiny sticks. I just now added that central support piece and the extra flowers today, because unfortunately the baton is top heavy and without it it just... Well. Spun itself upside down. The foam flowers themselves added a shocking amount of weight to it, but it's the baby's breath that really weighs it down. Not that it's heavy--it's very nice to hold in the hand, but again, it likes to spin itself around if only supported at the ends.

It kinda doesn't feel real. I still honestly feel like I should wake up tomorrow and go "I'm gonna work on my baton today!" I think my brain is in denial lmao. Been working on this thing for seven months, man. This year has DEFINITELY been my introduction to crafting year, and I had a blast. After all that time, and it's finally complete. Thank you to the Legend of Zelda for always being a massive inspiration to me throughout my life. Wow. Reality really can be whatever I want. I made myself a prop/display piece out of random materials and a dream

[button-phobia-is-real]

Queen of Hearts - Thursday, September 21st, 903 “To fulfill this task you must all lay down your Princess accessories. When they all bind together the famine will be a thing of the past. Now, now, stand in line, one at a time, put them in the right order. The Crown, the Earrings, the Necklace, the Brooch, the Bracelet, the Ring, the Cane, and at last, the Fan.” The lecture hall they sat in was a converted theatre; where tall, turquoise panels were adorned with golden wood anemones, crown mouldings that told of the kingdom’s history, floor to ceiling windows that let in all the natural light the days had to offer, historical art covering every inch of the ceiling, built-in seats made of wood and velvet, with an elevated platform to give the audience a better view, an oval door looking out over the intricate gardens framed the stage. Right then, however, the windows were covered with thick, burgundy drapes, the massive chandelier was only half lit. People sat in their seats, filled to the brim with anticipation.

Taffy Chevalier, a dark-skinned, coily-haired girl, sat in the second row with her parents, sister, cousins, second-cousins, third-cousins, grandmothers and grandfathers.

The Chevalier family had guarded the Fan since many centuries, and Taffy was the current Guardian, despite her young age.

Since ancient times The Princess had chosen their Guardians; ones who could handle their power. It was normal for the passing of one Guardian to another to be hereditary. In Taffy’s case, she had been chosen as a young toddler, and thus been moved to the Chevalier Kingdom, where she had been raised as one with blue blood.

She prided herself in her extensive research on the matter. Often she would study texts that had long since been lost in translation, or were seemingly indecipherable, studying many languages and much literature in the process . It was an important thing she had been tasked with by the universe, so to treat it importantly was only logical.

Though she wore light rococo dresses of the finest fabrics, lived in a mansion where all her whims could be fulfilled in an instant, never had to go to bed hungry or wander about bored, she never thought of herself as above others. All should be treated with respect and dignity, coreless social classes had no impact on that. 

Most servants called her graceful or humble, so fragile in stature a hard gust of wind could take her down. 

Her dark brown, doe-eyes only cemented a picture of vulnerability. But she greatly enjoyed gardening, farming, woodwork, archery and pottery outside of her more refined hobbies, so although small, she was nowhere as weak as others saw her as.

For long there had been a great famine across the lands, rendering everybody in their right minds to spare on resources. Yet, the nobles had acted as if nothing was wrong. 

Now that resources were becoming more and more scarce however, the Eight Kingdoms were growing desperate: and Claire Beaumont had called an impromptu meeting for all the Guardians and their families, all they all had to do was come to the Beaumont palace with the Accessories.

The Princess Accessories were powerful tools, each having their own power. Taffy’s, the Fan, could control the wind, able to tear off houses off their foundations, 

the Cane could bring anyone to their knees with just a tap, 

the Ring could beckon most to tell the truth, 

the Bracelet could give their Guardian a guiding aid in their time of need, the Brooch could mimic the others’, all you had to do was place it in the appropriate place, though a mimic could never be as strong as the original, the Necklace could see into people’s hopes and desires, their deepest wishes,

the Earrings could hear all and translate any heard words, 

lastly, the Crown could control willing or weak-willed people.

In their dormant form the ensemblé was called The Princess. They looked inconspicuous: cream-colored with red hearts dotted on or incorporated into the design. 

Activated they had a more mature, round look, shifting in hues of red and purple. The Queen. A legend tells of how She would free the world from all its suffering if she was summoned. The complete truth had been lost in the cracks of history, leaving only fragments of imagination to fill in the gaps.

One thing was known, though. The Queen was an entity of raw magic, and needed a body to inhabit. Magic on its own was something most people couldn’t handle, raw magic would completely destroy someone from the inside out, distorting their organs, draining their veins and mending together bones. Just thinking about it made her shudder.

Subconsciously she rubbed her wrist, where the Fan would usually be hanging off from its leather handle. 

She looked out over the crowd with a growing lump in the pit of her stomach; nobody seemed to share her worry.

The heavy entrance doors were opened, protesting with a long squeak. All  heads turned back towards them.

In came nine guards and a struggling person in shackles. Assuming any sort of gender was impossible; their face and body had been clad in literal potato sacks, the only characteristics visible were hawk-like arms with black claws and long, thin wings that twitched with every move they made. 

The wing holes looked bloody.

Worry quickly turned to horror. Who was that? Why were they contained?

She wanted to go and check on them, but her mother held a steady grip on her shoulder, giving her a warning glance.

“This is a thief we captured a couple of days ago, raiding our supply pantry. Crimes must be punished accordingly, yes? And what better punishment than to give your life for the well-being of the people!” Claire proclaimed.

Cheers echoed in the walls. The heads of the noble families rose, hand over their heart, silently reciting a prayer as they followed the prisoner’s movements with harsh looks.

‘Die? For a bit of food? That..that couldn’t be right, it didn’t make any sense-’ but Taffy’s thoughts were interrupted by a thud and loud protests. The captive was flailing around on the floor, clearly trying to break free. One of the guards kicked their head.

“Silence! Such a noble punishment you’ve been given, and you’re resisting? This is an honor, so stop being so ungrateful. The choice has already been made, you will become the new vessel for The Queen of Hearts!” Claire bellowed. The cheers continued.

‘What did she just say? That..that she was going to reanimate The Queen of Hearts? No, no, no, it wasn’t right, wasn’t fair. It would be a painful, drawn-out death, nobody deserved it, especially for only stealing a meal!’ Taffy thought.

The prisoner was put on the table, held down by the guards. Piece by piece, the Princess Tools were put on. The face’s sack had turned dark. Sweat? Tears? Vomit? It didn’t matter, Taffy knew she had to do something.

Without thinking for another second, she pulled her mother’s arm away from her shoulder and rose, the way the heads had done just a few minutes ago. But her mother managed to get a grip on her arm.

“Don’t do anything foolish, Taffyta. This is for the best.”

Her mother sounded convincing, comforting, but she couldn’t believe a word of it.

She tore herself away from her mother’s iron grip, her thin arm already bruising, and started running to the stage, where they had put on a person’s execution like some sort of sick show. One after another, her family started yelling at her to stop.

Sweating, shaking, she stood eye to eye with the Sisterhood’s founder, the former Crown Guardian - Claire Beaumont. Her eyes were ice cold.

“This isn’t right!”

“Taffyta, you’re dishonoring the family name by acting like this! Come back and sit down again” her mother pleaded.

“No, I can’t! I can’t let you sacrifice someone else for something, especially not this!”

“Taffyta! If..if you go through with this, you’re not a part of the family anymore!”

She stopped mid-movement. She had been so sure until her mother said those words. Was she truly just overreacting?

“There, there, dear, we understand this might seem a bit scary or unfair, but it is what is best, now, sit back down before you make more of a fool of yourself.” Claire’s voice was warm, but her eyes still ruthless.

Once again, Taffy looked over the crowd. 

At her family, her friends, her home; she’d lose everything.

The prisoner started flopping desperately, sobbing loudly. Another guard hit their kneecaps with a baton. They let out a pained whimper.

No longer was there any doubt. Taffy jerked the Fan away, turned around, and loudly proclaimed, under the light of the chandelier:

“I hereby remove the Fan. Without it, The Queen of Hearts cannot be formed!” And with those words, the prisoner wormed their way out of their suffocating prison. One moment they flew into the chandelier, making it drop to the floor, they then yelped, shattered the balcony doors, flying out on broken wings to freedom. It all happened within a matter of seconds.

A moment later the room was dead quiet, staring dumbfounded at the smashed exit. The floor was covered in glass shards and blood drops.

.

“Get out,” Claire demanded “go away and never come back, Taffyta. You have doomed us all, you gave a heinous criminal the chance to escape. You’re a disappointment, the Chevalier family is a disappointment. 

Don’t let any of your blood stain the parquet floor on your way out.”

Taffy’s family sat with red faces, looking down in shame.

No longer was she a Chevalier, no longer a Guardian.

She was a traitor.

OCtober - Day 2, Mercy

@oc-growth-and-development

[ecotone99]

Fantasy [FN] The Octopus Tree

“She takes care of me. She always takes care of me.”

That was the only way Blair could explain how he survived falling down the hill near his house. He never reached the river at the bottom, and even with it snowing, his parents found him, alive. He should have never survived that accident. That was years ago, and he’s dedicated his life to taking care of her, farming, and producing crops and lumber for years. It doesn’t matter how the season goes; she provides. Blair knows if he takes care of her, she will take care of him. Midday Blair is about to quit for the day. As he moves the tractor into the barn, he sees several cars speed by him. One right after another, each of them filled with people holding signs and screaming out the window. He walks to the end of the driveway; he overhears the train of cars yell, “Save the trees!”

“Save the trees?!” Blair thought to himself.

There are millions of trees, how are they going to protect them all. And it dawns on Blair. The Octopus Tree. The only one that would make people grab pitchforks and torches to save it, okay maybe not torches. This tree is enormous. Just as the name speaks for itself, its branches sprawl out and up, reaching for the skies above. Blair has been frequently but never thought they would endanger it. He jumps onto his bicycle and heads to where a crowd has gathered.

Once he arrives, Blair sees the massive machinery, the kind you’d expect to wipe out a forest. He sees VW busses, electric cars, and several bicycles gathered around. Blair weaves his way closer than swerves around a giant rig, looking like a portable lab. One the side a logo which he could only translate as a tree struck by lightning. As Blair rounds the corner, a door slams into his face, knocking him back. Before he lands, he hears a man talking on his phone with a low deep raspy voice, and he sees the lower half of the guy, at least one leg and an artificial limb.

The man says, “Yes, we are close to the goal, the conversion is in our reach, just need to get rid of these...”

The door silenced the rest. As Blair picks himself up, he hears another voice.

“Are you okay? The jerk didn’t even bother to check.”

Blair turns to see a petite red-haired miss, wearing overalls and a colorful flannel top. Blair isn’t usually shy with words, but seeing her made him lose all of them.

“Um, I’m fine, I guess, just caught me off guard,” he says.

“Don’t be modest, that was Dr. Cruickshank, he’s responsible for this, and he is a grade A, top-level as... well you know what I mean,” she responds.

Blair chuckles and asks, “What IS happening here?”

“Wait, you haven’t heard?” she responds.

Blair shakes his head.

“Well, these giant tree demolishing rigs and this piece of...” she says as she slaps the side of the lab, “are Dr. Cruickshank’s company, and they supposedly discovered that you could convert lumber into energy.”

“Wait. What?” Blair responds.

“Yup, that’s why I put together this little party, to prevent them from doing just that, kill our trees for energy.”

“You put this together?” Blair asked, looking at all the people gathered.

“Don’t look so shocked?” Moira says as she walks towards the Octopus Tree, “My name is Moira.”

Before Blair could respond, Moira is greeted by those with picket signs and yelling at the people in white lab coats.

She jumps up onto a makeshift stage and belts out in a mega-phone.

“We cannot let them take away one of our many life sources!” she exclaims, “Is this not known for its beautiful forests?! Is it not known for its timber? We even have a soccer team named after just that. Why would we want to give another reason for people to take our trees?!”

“She has a brilliant point,” thought Blair.

Just as he thought about turning around the same door that hit him before flies open, inches away from his face, Blair sees that artificial limb step down and hears a low, raspy groan. He then hears the man speak to someone else inside the trailer, “Can you please get your goons to go out there and remove her, she’s taking up precious time, and causing me quite the headache. Do whatever you need to, we need to conduct this experiment now.”

With that, the mystery man steps back into the trailer and slams the door shut. As that door closes, another one opens, on the other end of the container. At least five to six men, dressed in a combination of excellent suites and riot gear, come barging out and start making their way to the crowd. Blair sees one of the men lift a gun and fire into the group. A tear gas cartridge flies through the air and landing amongst the masses. With a loud pop, gas pours up and out. Screams immediately follow as the crowds begin dispersing. Chaos begins to show its ugly head as another tear gas cartridge, causing me more panic and confusion. Blair is knocked to the ground by people fleeing. As he lands, his hands hit the side of a metal cover running towards the old tree. An image flashed before his eyes, of chemicals and electric current running to the tree and the trees melting away into a powder. But what scares Blair is the feeling that came with that image; pain, fear, sadness, and even grief flood him. Tears well up in his eyes, as he wipes them away, he sees Moira covering her face and eyes, and off to the side is one of the men, with a mask, coming at her with a baton. Before Blair could even realize it, he had his shirt off and wrapped around his mouth and nose. He was sprinting towards Moira. The gas was getting thick, and hurting Blair’s eyes, more tears formed. A breeze came flowing through, creating a path for Blair. He lunges just as the man’s baton comes down and clips his shoulder. Blair manages to tackle Moira to the side.

“What the...?!” yells Moira.

She wipes her eyes and sees the security guard over both of them. His baton raised again, and the of them trapped between the guard and the tree. Blair was recouping from the tackle. Moira closed her eyes, expecting to get knocked on the side of her head. She raises her hands. Then she peeks. The guards are not there like he vanished. She sees the branch of the Octopus tree going back towards the sky. She doesn’t believe it.

She helps Blair up, “Did you see that?”

“What?” asks Blair.

“The tree...it...it...” but before she can finish, Blair grabbed her by the arm and was running to the other side of the tree, away from the crowd and gas. Moira was in a state of shock, thinking she must have hit her head.

“What about the tree?” Blair asks.

“Nevermind,” Moira responds.

“Hey, we’ve got to save her,” Blair states as begins looking around the ground near the base of the tree.

Moira gives him a concerning glance, “Save who?” she asks as she follows him.

Before he can answer, he uncovers piping and cables attached to the different parts of the giant trunk. Some are screwed in, and some nailed, some clipped. Blair begins to frantically pull at the different attached points. As they get one unhooked, two guards come sprinting around running towards them. A giant root pops up out of the ground and whips one of the guards, sending him flying back into the nearby brush. Moira’s jaw drops. Blair gets pushed, sending him crashing to the ground. The guard looks to reconnect what he was removed. That raspy unsettling voice is sent booming over a loudspeaker from the other side.

“Conducting test number 1859, in 10..9...8...7...6...”

Blair gets another image flash and rush of feelings as he did before.

“5...4...3...2...”

Blair jumps up, tackles the guard. He grabs the baton and begins frantically wailing away at the pipes and cables, and anything else metal.

“1...go!”

With that, the sound of a surge and rush of electricity come flying around and with a powerful flash and bang. Both Moira and Blair sent flying back into the brush. Moments later, Blair opens his eyes; he can see the limbs of the Octopus Tree, reaching high. Blair smiles. He remembers Moira and gets up and finds her a foot away.

“Moira?! Are you okay?! Talk to me!” he yells, running to her side.

“Dude! Chill. I’m fine, just a little bruised,” she responds.

Blair lets out a massive sigh of relief. Just then, he hears the voice again over the loudspeaker.

“What happened?! Can anyone tell me, please tell me why the tree is still standing there?!”

Several men and women in lab coats come walking around the tree. Blair and Moira stay put, still hidden by brush and plants. They walk around, writing down notes, looking at and feeling the tree. They come up to the side, seeing the damage started by Blair. All of them gather around looking, chatting, and writing down note after note. One of them pulls up a walkie talkie.

“Sir, it looks like either an animal got to the inserts, or they exploded do to the tree being too big.”

A short pause, before you hear an annoyed grunt in that raspy voice, “I find that hard to believe, but never mind, we have a strict time frame we need to meet and do not have time to set up everything again, just leave it and try at our next experimental point.”

The group of them shuffle back towards the trailer.

Blair and Moira wait a few moments before finding their way back to Blair’s bicycle.

“Whoa, that was close,” Blair said, “she almost got hurt; we need to stop that next experiment.”

Moira gives him a concerning look again, “You are interesting...” she says, pausing for Blair to fill in the blank.

Blair giggles, “Blair, and yea, sorry for tackling you earlier, I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“Nothing I can’t handle, I grew up with brothers, but I have to say I witnessed some unusual and unexpected things today Blair, and I’m getting the sense you know what I’m talking about.”

Blair just smiles and gets on his bike, “I need to find out where they are planning on going to next”

Moira looks over at her VW bus, “If we take my car, we could get there quicker; besides, my phone is in there, and I know a few people that could help us figure it out.”

Blair looks down at his bike and back up her car, “Can we take my bike?”

Moira laughs, “Yea, we can take your bike.”

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