#haven’t worn this wig in a while

[evilwizardgirl]

🤓☝️

[kitteecassee]

♡⁠

[riordanness]

tolerate it — [p.mellark]

wordcount: 3.9K

warnings: slight death mentions, but bro it’s the hunger games what did you reallllllly expect

requested: yes!! @ornellastreet <33

I didn’t think it was possible for my mood to get worse after being reaped, but hearing his name called out over the loudspeaker definitely made me feel like hitting something.

“Peeta Mellark!” The chipper lady, Effie, is way over the top about all this. I mean, I get that it’s her job and all, but we’re kids, fighting to the death. We aren’t lottery winners or something.

I watch as the all too familiar blond boy’s face goes pale, then stare as he slowly makes his way towards the platform, toward me. He doesn’t look me in the eyes at first, just simply takes his place beside Effie.

“We have our tributes!” Effie squeals excitedly. “Now, shake hands, you two.”

Great. I clench my jaw as I hold my hand out to Peeta. He hesitates for just a second, but when he sees my expression, he quickly shakes my hand.

“Excellent!” Effie claps, and I feel the ridiculous urge to slap her wig off.

“Come along, both of you.” Effie waves us into the back rooms of the Justice Building. As I follow her and Peeta, I glance back over my shoulder, at what is probably my last look at home.

I sit beside Peeta, my fingers tracing the soft blue velvet of the couches in this ridiculously extravagant train car. I stare out the window, watching the world flash by faster and faster, till I get dizzy and have to stop. Then I stare at the floor.

Every part of me is aware of the boy only a few inches away. If I leaned even slightly, I would be brushing shoulders with him.

After noticing this, I quickly lean the other direction. I rest my hot forehead against the cool glass window, close my eyes, and try to pretend this is all a dream.

“Well, well, well.” A drawling male voice comes from somewhere above me, and I wake with a start. I must’ve fallen asleep in my chair, which almost impresses me because I was sure I’d been too scared to sleep.

I squint up and recognise Haymitch, the only living victor of District Twelve. He had a glass of alcohol in his left hand, and is waving the other hand at me. “Up, up!” he insists.

I get to my feet uncertainly, glancing around for a sign of Peeta.

“The boy’s already gone,” Haymitch says. “We’re arrived.”

“Arrived?” I ask. “Where?”

He spreads his hands, like ‘are you stupid?’. “The Capitol, sweetheart. Now come on. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

Honestly? It wasn’t how I’d pictured it. I haven’t ever seen much of the Capitol, but the image in my head was way off. Everything was way more extravagant and expensive and ridiculous than I could ever have imagined.

We’ve been here almost two days now. Last night was the parade, where me and Peeta were basically lit on fire and forced to hold hands while all the Capitol citizens stared at us like we were circus animals. I hated every second of it.

I stand now in my room, on Floor 12 of this stupid tribute apartment complex. I stare out the windows, watching the Capitol go by. My fingers fidget with the satin sleeve of my new top, the most fancy thing I’ve worn to date.

I glance at the clock on the wall, and remember I’d better get going to dinner. Effie, Haymitch, Peeta, and apparently our stylists will all be waiting for me.

I hurry.

At the table, I’m forced to sit beside Peeta, much to my annoyance. He leaves me alone, though, which is more than I can say about Effie, who is peppering me with questions. I answer as little as I can, refusing to give this woman any information worth hearing.

“So.” My stylist, Cinna, gives me a smile. He’s nicer than I thought any Capitol people were capable of, but I didn’t exactly like him, not yet. “Ready for your interview tomorrow?”

“No.”

“I have your outfit ready to go. You’ll prepare with Haymitch and Effie all day, till four, then you’re mine. I’ll make you gorgeous.”

“Okay.”

Effie makes an exasperated sound in her throat. “Can’t you just try to be excited?”

I stare at her, dumbfounded. I can’t believe this. “What, excited to die?” I fake an extremely over exaggerated smile. “I can’t wait!”

Peeta kind of laughs, then immediately tries to hide it with a cough and a glass of water.

I ignore him. I’ve become pretty good at that.

Haymitch smirks. Effie sighs. Cinna gives me a knowing little wink, and Peeta’s stylist, Portia, doesn’t look at me.

I sigh and shove my chair from the table. “Night,” I announce, and storm to my room. I collapse instantly into my bed, curl into a ball, and let the tears come. I fall asleep like that, crying for home, for safety, for comfort.

The next morning, I’m woken by Effie’s ridiculous ‘It’s going to be a big, big, big day!’ The entire day sucks from that point onwards.

Both Haymitch and Effie are at their wits ends with what to do with me during my interview.

Effie has me first, and for the first hour, she keeps her optimistic outlook on my potential. Two sarcastic words from me and fifty-seven minutes later, she looks ready to wring my neck then and there. She hands me over to Haymitch looking ready to cry. I have a tiny bit of satisfaction from that, I’ll admit.

Haymitch looks, I don’t know, preoccupied, the entire of our session. Everytime I say anything, he seems almost jumpy. Eventually I give up and sit there in silence until he lets me go. I have a shower per Cinna’s instructions and wait for him in my room.

I have to admit, Cinna is a genius. His handiwork is incredible. I stand in front of the mirror and smooth my skirts, a hint of my smile on my face.

Luxurious clothing, especially dresses, were never something I even thought of back in Twelve. But it felt pretty damn good to wear one.

The dress is gold, with little pockets of white and yellow and orange and red and silver and black, like fire. When I move, it’s almost like flames are flicking over me.

“This is amazing, Cinna,” I tell him. “Thank you for making me feel pretty tonight.”

Cinna gives me a hug, and a kiss on the forehead. “I’m not allowed to bet,” he says in reply, “but if I could, I’d bet on you.”

This time, I really do smile.

I officially want to die then and there the instant I’m up on that brightly lit stage. I have no idea what to say, or how to act, and I fumble my way through the entire interview. Even Caesar Flickerman, who never seems to run out of funny things to say; who always knows how to keep the conversation flowing effortlessly, is at his wits end with me. It seems to be my only talent; making people exasperated at me.

I leave the stage to the quietest round of applause the world has ever known.

I pass Peeta in the hall, and he gives me the smallest look of acknowledgement. I wish we could just stop pretending to be friends. Nothing has ever hurt me as much as Peeta Mellark has, and I don’t know how to forgive him for it. There’s a tiny part of me that’s almost glad we're going into the Hunger Games. No matter how it goes, I won’t ever have to deal with Peeta again after this.

I go to stand beside Haymitch and Effie, and prepare to watch Peeta’s interview. I wonder what he will talk about.

I kind of feel annoyed at him the longer the interaction goes on. He and Caesar bounce effortlessly off each other, talking and joking about… showers? Anyway, the crowd seems to love it.

Then, everything changes.

Caesar leans in to Peeta conspiratorially. “So, Peeta,” he says in a whisper, but directly into the microphone of course. “Is there a special girl back home?”

“Uh, yeah, Caesar, there is.” Peeta looks a little red at the confession.

I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes. We’re about to be slaughtered, and they’re discussing crushes? How ridiculous is that?

“Oh do tell.” Caesar sounds more like a teenage girl than a grown man. “We’d love to hear about her.”

Peeta clears his throat, and looks uncomfortably at the cameras. From my position inside, it’s like he’s staring right at me.

I quickly look away.

“Well,” Peeta begins, “she’s amazing. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever known, and I stuffed it up with her once. I’ve never forgiven myself for that.”

I glance at the screen uncertainly.

Peeta stares right back out at me. “I’m sorry for what I did. I want to do everything in my power to fix it. I promise. I love you.”

Caesar makes a squealing noise. “How adorable!” he exclaims. “You’ll have to get back to District 12 and she’ll have to forgive you.”

Peeta laughs uncomfortably. “That wouldn’t work, in my case.”

“And why not?”

“Because…” Peeta shifts in his seat. “Because she came here with me.”

I remember very little of the aftermath of Peeta’s comment. I know a flash of fury, disbelief, and shock ran through me at once. I know I dashed off to my room. I know I got out of my insane getup and collapsed into bed. I know I wanted to hit Peeta Mellark for that comment.

But after that, I know nothing.

I wake the next morning feeling sick to my stomach. I have a headache, my body feels stiff, and I’m still irrationally angry at Peeta. Well, it’s not irrational. It’s perfectly fine to hate him for what he did. And ‘apologising’ on live tv? It was like a sick joke.

I slowly get dressed in comfy pants and a loose, light blue blouse. I tie my hair up in a ponytail, and head for breakfast.

Everyone else is already there, But I ignore them all, pile my plate with as much food as I can, and sit myself down on the floor as far as possible from Peeta.

Effie huffs. “Good morning to you too, young lady.”

I answer by shoving a bread roll into my mouth whole.

“Ugh!” Effie is more than annoyed with me, but when I catch Haymitch’s eye by accident, he has a small smirk playing at his mouth, so I figure it’s not all bad.

“Hey, y/n,” Peeta tries.

I don’t reply, don’t even acknowledge him. I’m still so angry, so hurt from all those months ago. His words from back then mix with the ones from last night in my head, giving me a headache to match my heartbreak.

“You’re not… I’m sorry… I stuffed up… she’s amazing… I don’t want to… she came here with me… you mean nothing to me… not like that, y/n… I love you…”

I squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying to block it all out. All the memories.

It was a dark, depressing day. The weather sucked, but I guess that just meant it matched the rest of District Twelve.

I was heading home after school, and trying to work up my courage to do something I’d wanted to do for years.

I was going to tell Peeta Mellark that I loved him.

Everyone knew where he lived. The bakery was a pretty, inviting little place. The window was always filled with cakes, all decorated by Peeta himself.

I skipped up the front steps, knocking twice quickly on the dark blue painted door.

A woman answered, Peeta’s mother. “Hello.”

“Hi!” I pretended not to notice her quick glance at my less-than-clean dress, or my coal-covered boots and hair. I knew I wasn't as rich as their family. I wasn’t ashamed, but her look made me sad.

“I’m here to see Peeta,” I told her.

“Ah.” She narrowed her eyes at me, then disappeared. I hear hushed voices, but don’t try to listen in on the conversation.

I just stood there and waited. Soon, Peeta appeared in the doorway. “Hey, y/n,” he says uncertainly.

“Hey.” I decided to just say it—get it over with as quickly as possible. “I like you, Peeta. Like, like, like you.”

Peeta blinked at me, stunned. “You… oh.”

I chewed my lip, suddenly feeling like this was a horrible, horrible mistake. I shouldn’t have come. I should’ve just pretended I wasn’t in love with him.

Peeta’s eyes looked conflicted, hurt, despairing. But his words, and his tone, are as hard and cold as ice. “I don’t like you. Not like that, y/n. You… you’re not… anything to me. Just a friend, an acquaintance even. You’re worth nothing to me behind that.”

I physically felt the pain of my heart breaking. I wanted to cry, run, hit something.

“Oh.” I managed. “That’s… that’s cool.” I turned on my heel and ran all the way home.

It’s been over a year since Peeta Mellark broke my heart, and I’ve never gotten over it. Even now, eating my breakfast, knowing we are both probably likely to die in the arena, I still can’t find it in myself to forgive him.

I don’t believe his little stunt last night. It was for the cameras, to make a statement and gain sponsors. He doesn’t love me. He made that pretty damn clear a year ago.

I slam my plate on the ground so hard it cracks in two. A mute, red-haired girl rushes over to help me clean it. I apologise to her, but I can’t stay in this room for a moment longer. I feel trapped, like I can’t breathe.

I find my way to an out of the way part of our complex, sitting against the wall in a little window alcove. I’m overlooking the Capitol central, the citizens milling about in their celebratory days before the Hunger Games.

I feel sick at the sight.

How can they be so enraptured by the horror that is the games? How can they find actual joy and pleasure watching kids die?

“Hey.”

I start, and turn, and see Peeta a few steps away from me.

“Hi,” I say back, a little stiffly.

He gestures at the ground beside me, and I nod. He gently sits down, looking slightly nervous.

“What’s up?” I say dully.

“Uh—nothing much, thanks.”

“What are you doing here?” I have no patience for small talk, especially not now.

Peeta licks his lips and doesn’t meet my eyes. “I actually came to apologise.”

I raise an eyebrow, surprised. “As opposed to your apology earlier?”

Peeta grimaces. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. Haymitch made me promise not to—and, I guess I just didn’t stop to think how you’d feel.”

I look away, trying to ignore the sudden lump in my throat. “Yeah, well.”

“I’m also here to tell you the plan,” Peeta adds.

My gaze snaps back to him. “The plan?” I ask incredulously.

He nods. “This… star crossed lovers angle is really good for getting sponsors. It’ll help us gain friends in the Capitol—people who will want to help us.”

“Because it’s my goal in life to be besties with the Capitol,” I say flatly, and Peeta almost cracks a smile.

“If it’ll help to keep you alive, it is your goal.”

I shrug. “Whatever. What’s this plan?”

“Act like we’re in love.”

I stare at him for a second, then realise he’s dead serious. I deflate a little, but I know deep down he has a point. We need sponsors if we want to have any chance at all of winning the Games.

“Okay,” I say finally. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

Training goes for three days, and it mostly sucks. I have zero talents, apparently, except for differentiating deadly plants from safe ones. Oh, I can also tie some knots. Not super helpful. I can’t throw a knife, shoot a bow, lift anything heavier than a couple kilos, or climb ropes very well.

As the third day comes to an end, I feel incredibly useless, and exceptionally hopeless. I’m going to be dead in a day, I can almost feel it.

Peeta actually had a pretty good chance. He’s very strong, and can lift even the heaviest of weights. He’s also a whiz at camouflage and starting fires. All bakery skills, I’ll wager.

As per Haymitch’s instructions, we stick together throughout the training, steering clear of the other tributes. We also touch whenever possible, holding hands, hugging, me letting Peeta touch my hair.

It’s all rather infuriating to me, but if it might help to keep Peeta alive for longer, then whatever. He needs to win. He needs to stay alive and get home to his family.

It’s finally the night before the Games, and to say I was completely terrified would be the absolute truth. I lie awake, goosebumps everywhere. I’m so scared I couldn’t eat anything at dinner, even though I know I should be trying to get up my strength. Who knows how long it might be before I can eat again.

I might be starving in that arena, or dehydrated, or freezing to death. Who knows? Maybe I’ll die right away, in the initial bloodbath.

I sit up in bed, sick of tossing and turning. I climb out, and head out my bedroom door. Surprisingly, it’s not locked. I guess they do have cameras literally everywhere, so they’d know if I was actually trying to escape. Which I’m not. That would be pointless. I’m going to die anyway.

Across the hall is Peeta’s room, and without thinking, I knock on his door. He opens it a second later, and his brow crunches together at the sight of me.

“Y/n?” he asks. “What are you—?”

“Can I come in?” I’m suddenly awkward, realising how weird this is.

Peeta nods quickly. “Yeah, yeah. Come in, please.” He steps aside and lets me pass. His room is indentical to mine.

I walk over to his bed and sit myself down on the silkily sheets. “Can I stay in here tonight?” I ask, not looking at Peeta.

I hear his bed creak beneath me as he sits too. “Yeah, ‘course you can.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then he adds, in a much softer voice, “Anytime.”

I wake up to the sun shining into the room, and for a moment, I forget entirely where I am, and what’s about to happen. I just sink into the pillows and close my eyes.

Then, I remember. The Games are today.

“Hey, you,” a voice says behind me, and I roll over in surprise. Peeta.

“Morning,” I say back, for some reason grateful he’s here. Having a familiar face to wake up to is much nicer than rising alone, facing the Games all by myself.

“Todays the day, huh?” Peeta asks, sitting up and frowning a little.

“Guess so,” I reply, rolling back over to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t want to get up.”

Peeta laughs, and it’s a pretty sound. Too pretty for such an awful day.

There’s a knock on our door, and Effie’s voice filters through: “Het up you two, it’s going to be a big, big, big day!”

“How does she know I'm here?” I ask, sitting up straight.

Peeta shrugs. “The Capitol has a crap ton of cameras, y/n.”

I roll my eyes in annoyance. Do they really need to know every single thing about us, before we die? It’s all so ridiculous I almost have to laugh.

“I’d better go get ready and stuff,” I tell him, sliding out of his bed. “Thanks for letting me stay here last night.”

Peeta looks at me for a second, like he’s going to say something big, but just replies with, “See you in the arena.”

“Good luck.” And I’m gone.

“Ten seconds til launch.”

I take a deep breath, feel Cinna’s reassuring squeeze on my shoulder, and I step into the glass tube that will be taking me up into the arena.

“Bye, Cinna,” I half whisper. “Thank you for everything.”

He gives me a smile, that somehow is genuinely caring. “Good luck, my dear girl.”

Something inside the tube clicks, and it slides shut, locking me into my fate. It begins to slowly rise, and so does my anxiety. I come completely out of the tube, and bright, blazing sunlight temporarily blinds me. When I can see again, my throat squeezes in terror and anticipation. All of us are the same distance apart, standing on little pods that I know we can’t step off of without being blown to the sky.

In the middle of the tribute circle is a metal cornucopia, with various weapons and supplies arranged around it, trying to tempt us. I remember Haymitch’s advice to leave it all alone and just run to the woods.

That’s when I remember Peeta. I glance left, seeing a girl from District Seven, I think, who’s also looking in my direction. Beyond her is a tall, dark boy I’ve never really paid attention to other than to get out of his way. I think his name is Thresh.

I squint, frantically trying to locate Peeta. I finally spot him, the farthest tribute I can see to my right. He’s already got his eyes on me, and is shaking his head. Why? What’s he trying to tell me?

Suddenly, the bell is sounding, and there’s a flash of movement as the tributes all simultaneously leave their pedestals, most heading right for the cornucopia. I freeze, my body not reacting at all. I force myself to move, running in just close enough to snatch up a small blue backpack, and then I sprint in Peeta’s direction. I just manage to catch a glimpse of him disappearing into the woods, so I head that way.

About an hour later, I still haven’t caught up to Peeta, or seen any other tributes. Sounds of the bloodbath behind me have faded away now, and nothing but the occasional animal or bird or wind sounds now echo through the forest.

It would almost be peaceful, if I wasn’t where I was.

Then, out of absolutely nowhere, someone grabs my arm from behind. I let out a scream, and a hand slaps over my mouth. I struggle, but I’m not strong at the best of times.

“Calm down!” It’s Peeta’s voice. “It’s just me, y/n, jeez.”

I twist him off me and whirl to face him. My glare is almost enough to murder him right then and there. “Don’t scare me like that!” I hiss. “You idiot!” I hit him, half out of the fear bubbling inside of me and half out of relief he’s here and alive and with me.

“Sorry, my love,” Peeta replies, cracking a flirtatious smile. “I won’t do it again.”

I narrow my eyes at him, half annoyed and half embarrassed at how much relief is flooding inside of me at this sight of him, alive and well and here.

“Allies?” Peeta asks.

A laugh bubbles up, and surprises both of us. Peeta laughs too, but then shushes me. “Let’s not get killed just yet, okay?” he suggests. “I’d like to hang out with the love of my life first.”

And for some reason, I don’t even disagree.

[faneliacosplay]

An underrated magical girl series!✨

Magic Knight Rayearth. When I was about 10 and getting into manga, I randomly picked up the first volumes of Cardcaptor Sakura and Magic Knight Rayearth. I read CCS first and had planned to pick up the second volume the next time I went to the bookstore, but the second I started reading Rayearth, I was hooked and picked up the next volume as soon as I could! Like with many other kids who read/watched MKR, the ending to part one DESTROYED me. Sixteen years later I have never sobbed more over a book/manga.

This series has everything: magical girls, beautiful costumes, a plot that really makes you think, an amazing score, and the greatest anime opening in history.🔥

Sadly, Clamp’s first magical girl series is often overshadowed by their second one, Cardcaptor Sakura, which is a classic in every sense, that still gets lots of new art/merch made every year, while Rayearth will get some new art/merch occasionally.

If you haven’t already, I BEG of you to read or watch Magic Knight Rayearth since the manga is back in print for the third time and the anime is streaming for free on Tubi and TMS Entertainment’s official channel on YouTube!🤩

Costume made/worn by me!

AMAZING photo by the AMAZING Huffoto

Wig: Apollo + 35” wefts in Princess Pink Mix from @epiccosplaywigs

[notyaslol]

okay, yas, for the ask game:

🧃,🍬, 🦷, 🥐, 🦋, 🌸

<3333

Hi ivy! Thank you for the ask!! I’ll try to answer as best as i can.

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

I don’t know if i have ever said this on here but I’m a swiftie, although i think that could be supposed. I’ll give you two more facts for that. I’ve been two times to the eras tour, one in my country (Spain) and the other time i actually had to travel to Portugal while i was finishing my last year of uni, in between finals and writing my end of degree project. And one last fact about me is that i love to dye my hair, honestly i have dyed it too many times to count by now, i don’t know how I haven’t fried it.

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

I’ve seen many headcanons in which Remus is gay and Sirius is bisexual, for me both are bi. There’s just something about Remus that screams bisexual for me, i don’t know.

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

Actually i was talking about this with my cousin the other night, I’m a firm believer that the uglier you go to bed the prettier you wake up. Go to bed with your hair in socks if you want curls, wear that facemask, that eye cream, the pimple patches, whatever you want! Also, another one from personal experience: the moment you notice the slightest bit of toxicity form someone, run it’s only gonna get worse.

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh 

There’s too many but lately i can’t get the “do you wear wigs? Have you worn wigs? Will you wear wigs? When will you wear wigs?” video about of my head.

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately 

Much like you Ivy, lately i can’t stop thinking about how I’m a hopeless romantic and how i have this idealized idea of love and that most likely I’ll never meet anyone that will meet my standards or love me like people love in the books/fanfics i read.

🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them

Actually, i do! I have a cat and her name is Ada

[busybussinbee]

just remembered i haven’t finished posting my notes from dragoncon so here’s day 3

theme song is probably “this is our big night” from mlp equestria girls cause it was stuck in my head while i was getting ready

today was barbara from genshin! this is my only cosplay that i purchased pre-made online and also the only cosplay i’ve worn before (to momocon!) @pharaohbean went as jean so we got to match!

things that happened:

-i struggled with my eyeliner for a good 15 minutes

-i got recognized way more than i expected! maybe 6-7 people? barbara isn’t a super popular character so i was pleasantly surprised!

-THERE WAS A VENTI COSPLAYER WHO GOT SO EXCITED WHEN THEY SAW ME THEY WERE SO SWEET

-i have seen at least four nimona cosplayers and this makes me incredibly happy :D

-there was a spiderman photoshoot and there were SO MANY but nothing compared to momocon (who i believe broke the record for most spiderman cosplayers in one spot)

-my wig was Tight but it was fine we were only there for half a day

-zero rambled to me about a story she’s working on and it was wonderful i love when my friends infodump to me about their passions :D

[oracleofsecrets]

I think using the Catholic newspaper gave me a really weird dream this morning where I was so mad about being in some manner of Catholic-type school with uniforms and they wouldn’t let me get the pants uniform bc sexism that I yelled WHY and woke myself up

Anyway;

I might’ve given the band another coat of gold before sealing everything? Idr. Here it is drying. Tiny jelly jar balanced on top of modpodge bc I remembered almost too late that this has to be Curved

I think I did two coats on the crescents, but I only did one on the band bc it started raining and I wanted to move on anyway

Prooooobabblyyyyy should’ve let it all Set overnight but impatience won out, though I did suffer for it. Hot glued the gem on, forgot this is going to be a circlet, tried “brushing” some hot glue underneath the sides with a wire to some success. Used too much glue for the first big crescent :/ and forgot to bend it Before placing gluing it down… the rest mostly went without incident. I used an embroidery hoop to place the band over to get a realistic curve (briefly wondered why I didn’t just make it out of an inner embroidery hoop to begin with,)

Used a somehwat worn sewing machine needle and a clippers to pick away some of the excess glue. Used the same needle to dab paint over the glue and to patch over where the removed glue tore away some of the paint >.>

Here it is, done (or done Enough) and drying/setting. As long as you don’t look at it too closely it’s not so bad (low blood sugar mood)

I haven’t joined it Together yet, it’s still a flat strip. I’d cut it about 1/3” wider than my head in case the wig (that I still need to buy, now that I’ve committed to wig and ears in lieu of Staff) affects that. Idk if I want to just glue the ends together or something more temporary/adjustable….

Maybe a small bit of heat shrink tubing to cover the seam? I’d have to paint that ofc but hopefully that wouldn’t be too time consuming

I washed my vest thingy while painting and sealing and then had to spend like Forever ironing it. And there are still wrinkles :( also I should’ve washed it sooner bc the marker lines are still a litttttle visible up close. But it’ll be covered by the cape so 👍

Having to re-press the seams made me realize why I Should’ve done the topstitching the pattern specified…… if I have time after everything else is done I might add that, or I’ll do it after Halloween to save myself some trouble next time I wash it

Tomorrow it’s time to tackle the cape

Zelda EOW cosplay log: circlet

After giving up on the staff, which was already another means for me to take a break from sewing, I got started drafting the circlet

I had some Eva foam from another cosplay ish project that didn’t go very well due to inexperience, so that seemed the most logical choice. I forgot how annoying it is cutting Eva foam though… the “headband” part was easy since I could use my rotary cutter, except the length I needed was longer than my ruler, so there’s a wobbly bit from where I had to scoot my ruler. Didn’t feel like cutting out another piece, so it’ll have to do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Studied some screenshots and Sketched out the gem and metalwork bits on paper to get an idea of relative sizing between all the pieces. That damn pvc conduit ended up coming in handy here—I pressed down onto the foam and traced the indent for the gem. Cutting the crescents was realllly fiddly bc I was using scissors. But idk if I could’ve gotten those curves otherwise with an xacto knife

Only on the smaller bits did I think to transfer my sketch onto the foam instead of eyeballing it. My “transfer” method was poking pins along the outline into the foam, kinda like for pumpkin carving. Nice and clear and easy to follow with the scissors without having to worry about painting over anything

I thought I read somewhere that Eva foam can be sandpapered ? So I tried doing that to fix the uneven edges. Idr what grit level sandpaper I used. I mostly used a nail file board actually lol

Somehow I lost my circle gem piece, so I had to cut another one out and sand that :/ I don’t have proper primer so i figured I’d just spray a little modpodge on it to give me a workable surface to paint on. It didn’t occur to me that the pieces were so small that they’d fly off bc of the aerosol blast, so I had to find those in the dark ground bc I keep forgetting to tell the landlady that the outdoor lightbulb is out

I ended up mostly kinda mopping up the modpodge that was left on the parchment paper to get it nice and covered. Then I remembered I should grab a scrap to prime for when I test out paints. Was smart enough to hold the foam with a clothespin so no more glue would get on my hand. A day later It does kinda look like a nice subtle topcoat on my nails though :3 let it dry overnight so I could play some hades 2 and bc I didn’t want to fiddle with mixing paints at like 10pm

The next evening I tested out the paints. At the store I’d been between one metallic red shade and another, and I’d gotten the one that hadn’t seemed Too bright red. This was a mistake. It’s indeed a lovely garnet color, but that’s not quite light or red enough for this. Mixed with a little red looked pretty good. The gold metallic was perfect straight out of the bottle

Also tested whether to use black or white as a base coat. Going with white to keep things brighter

✨The next day ✨

Got my base coat of white on

(Using some weird Catholic local newspaper that some lady who lived here before me still has delivered to catch the mess lol)

First coat of gold. Probably should’ve made sure my sponge was fully dry before painting on the gold… I’m using makeup sponges since they’re denser than the sponge brushes I got for cheap a while ago. Repeating to myself Trust the Process Trust the Process so I don’t get neurotic about how sloppy it looks rn….

Okay yeah second coat is looking a lil better. Added a Little more red to the mix for the gem. I like how the shade looked overall, and especially layered over the other. I dont need another coat on the gem but def will for the gold stuff

Third coat, now we’re talkin. That’s good enough for the crescent pieces, but I think I’ll give the band another coat tomorrow. Testing my gloss sealant on the back of one of the smaller crescents after putting the first coat on the gem to see how that looks

Im planning on using satin modpodge finish though bc it’s an aerosol spray and bc I think that’d contrast nicely and subtly with the glossy. But the glossy is a normal spray bottle, and I wasn’t careful the first time I used it so it got clogged…I usually borrow the spray top from something else, but it’s not the same diameter as the bottleneck so I have to hold it weird :/ I should just buy a replacement nozzle fjsjdhd. But since the pieces are so small I’m just unscrewing the nozzle, taking it out and letting a few drops of sealer fall onto a plastic lid from something or another, then dabbing it on with a sponge

Now that I’m more like Live blogging and not posting about stuff I’ve already done I think I’ll end the post here lol

[becca-e-barnes]

Take Care of Everything

This is my first ever fic for a writing challenge omg I’m so excited! Huge congratulations to @balenciagabucky for hitting 3K followers!! That’s such a huge milestone and thank you for organising such a fun challenge! So excited to read the rest of the submissions 💗 @dulceslibrary

Pairing: Personal Assistant! Bucky Barnes x Lawyer! Reader

Word Count: 3.5k maybe?

Summary: There’s only one thing in your life that your PA doesn’t take care of

Warnings: Smut, praise kink, pet names, protected sex (go me for writing something safe sex for a change), court mention, lil fluff, mile high club

Minors, do not interact.

“Un-fucking-believable.” You couldn’t stop the roaring boil of the blood in your veins, storming out of the court room with your long black gown billowing behind you. Being one of the top barristers in the country brought it’s fair share of high profile cases but this one had got on every last nerve in your body and you were out of patience.

The case itself wasn’t the problem. The issues were straightforward enough and applying law to fact, at the most basic level, your client had done nothing wrong. It should have been essentially cut and dry. The problem was the opposing council and the lack of intervention from the judge.

The prosecution had torn your witness to shreds. You had tried to warn the poor woman beforehand, as you did with every client, but on the stand, she had just crumbled under such an intense and downright ignorant line of questioning.

It shouldn’t have even been allowed in the first place. The judge should have stepped in and clipped the opposing council’s wings but the damage was already done and now you would have to pick the pieces up when court resumed on Monday.

“How did it go?” Your personal assistant must have been leaning outside the courtroom door for who knows how long, his suit somehow as neat and pristine as always, despite the fact it was the end of the day.

“Fucking dreadful, Terry was an asshole to Andrea and she lost it. Should’ve known he’d pull shit like that, he’s always a cunt on Friday evenings.” You practically spat the words out, heels clicking on the floor as you made your way down the marble hall to collect your things and begin to put an end to this miserable week.

Part of you almost wanted to laugh at how Bucky had developed the skill of being able to keep up with your pace without even having to look up from his blackberry. That only came from years of practice.

“Terry loves playing with fire. Fuck him. If anyone can put him in his place on Monday, it’s you.” Bucky still hadn’t taken a second to pull his nose up from his phone, his steps landing in perfect time with yours until you reached the chamber at the end of the hall, throwing the heavy wooden door open in front of you. Bucky filtered in behind you of course, closing the door behind him before slipping his phone neatly into his pocket.

“Thought your doctor warned you about your blood pressure? You gotta calm down.” Bucky’s face showed he was genuinely concerned, his eyebrows knitted together in disdain but there was nothing new there. He had worked for you for years now and truth be told, he was damn good at his job, not to mention the fact he was the closest thing to a friend your busy schedule allowed you to have.

“I’ll calm down when I’m dead. We need to get to the airport if we’re going to make that flight for the convention.” You pulled your wig off, setting it neatly into the little wooden closet before removing your gown, hanging it up alongside the other worn ones from earlier in the week so they could all be dry cleaned and back in the closet for Monday.

“It’s a private jet honey, it can’t leave without you.” Bucky laughed softly, knowing you were worked up and hoping a little joke would ease the tension.

You had to admit, you were so thankful for Bucky. He was devoting the prime of his life to making sure you had everything you needed, your life only felt so seamless because Bucky made it that way. He didn’t just manage your calendar and fetch you coffee like any other PA, he lived and breathed you. He went everywhere with you, crashing in your spare room at least three nights a week because you had both worked yourselves to exhaustion. He never missed anything. He had a solution for every problem, nothing was too big for him to tackle and given the chance, you two could absolutely take over the world one day. You confided in him, and he in you, getting to know every tiny detail of his life in the past few years, right down to that fact that neither of you had seen your family or been on a date in months. Hell, he’d went as far as buying you a packet of batteries one Monday after a particularly long and stressful court hearing.

“Here, got you these.” He had smiled mischievously as he handed them over to you, chuckling a little at your confused expression. “For your vibrator. Looks like it’s gonna be a long week.” You took them gratefully, joking with him that you really would need them, tucking them into your handbag and damn were they appreciated. The following morning he had asked how you had got on and you could only laugh. You didn’t tell him how thoughts of him had come into your head right as you had gotten close. Similarly, you didn’t tell him how painfully intense your orgasm had been when you imagined him on the bed with you, watching you come apart against the plastic toy. You could just picture his hungry gaze, watching how your body gushed as you released, nipples pebbled from arousal and your lips parted, a single whimper of his name escaping you as you rode out your high.

No, that was a little secret you would keep to yourself. He didn’t need to know your dirtiest fantasies. He was an employee. An employee that often arrived at your bedroom door shirtless and smirking, holding a stack of freshly made pancakes on the mornings he stayed over at yours but an employee nonetheless.

—————————

The cab ride to the airport would have been silent if it hadn’t been for the gentle tapping of your thumbs and Bucky’s racing over your respective phone screens. You had at least two dozen emails left to reply to and your eyelids were beginning to get heavy, the body heat radiating from Bucky in the cab’s back seat making you drowsy. You took a second, squeezing your eyes shut to force away the tiredness before going back to typing relentlessly.

The trip to the airport was short, Bucky had competed the preflight checkin so you essentially stepped straight onto the plane, taking a seat by the window, with Bucky taking the one opposite you. Takeoff was smooth as always, your phones picked back up as soon as it was safe to do so. But with the glowing screen came a fresh wave of drowsiness, your eyelids threatening to close of their own accord.

“Shit, Buck did you pack my -“

“Glasses? Left side of your bag, under the tissues.” Bucky finished your sentence for you, not looking up from his phone.

“And my -“

“Eye drops? In your makeup bag.” There it was again. What surprised you most was that Bucky didn’t even need to see you to work out exactly what was wrong.

“Do you really just take care of everything?” You huffed out a little laugh, digging through your bag, finding both your glasses and eye drops exactly where he told you they would be.

“Everything but you.” He chuckled, finally setting his phone down.

“What do you mean ‘everything but me’? All you ever do is take care of me. You organise my shopping and dry cleaning for god’s sake.” The whole notion of Bucky doing anything but taking care of you was just insane because you sure as hell didn’t have time to do any of those things for yourself. That’s what you hired him for after all.

“I didn’t mean like that. I meant like really take care of you. You’re so damn up tight.” You knew by the little chuckle that accompanied his words that he meant it affectionately but it still made you slightly defensive.

“I’m not up tight.” You protested. Normally you would’ve let harmless comments like that slide but the combination of your shitty day and the fact you were so sleepy made it impossible to not seek out conflict. This was the life you were used to after all. A life of treating almost everyone you came across adversarially. It was second nature to you at this point, inside and outside the courtroom.

“Come on, you seem to forget I am your calendar. You think I don’t know you haven’t gotten any in months? You should get laid, that’s all I’m sayin’. Wouldn’t kill you to have an orgasm every once in a while.” The words roll off his tongue like it’s nothing and truth be told, if you were in better form, this would have been a perfectly normal conversation between the two of you. Neither of you were particularly shy when it came to talking about your hookups.

You hated how right he was. You hated that you hadn’t been touched in months and Bucky knew that. You hated that most days, you were too exhausted to bother tending to your own needs. And you hated the warmth spreading through your body at the thought of Bucky finally taking care of you.

“Don’t know Buck, an orgasm might actually kill me with my high blood pressure.” You needed this conversation to turn more light hearted and you needed it fast, before your head became so clouded with need that Bucky picked up on it.

“I mean, I handle everything else for you. Wouldn’t even mind if that became part of my remit.” You almost couldn’t believe how carefree and nonchalant this whole conversation seemed, Bucky hoping you missed how he cock twitched in his trousers. Of course you didn’t. You missed nothing.

“If what became part of your remit?” You quizzed firmly, trying not to give anything away but knowing your eyes had gone big and doe-like, entirely of their own accord. This was a dream come true.

“You. Actually taking care of you. However you need.” His stare was intense, watching you keenly to determine whether he had horrendously overstepped and was about to get fired.

“Why would you even want to?” Your voice carried every single ounce of confusion you were feeling, staring Bucky down with an intensity that mirrored his own in that moment.

“You’re far too smart to act dumb.” He replied softly, knowing it was all or nothing now. If he was getting fired, he might as well be honest. His head tilted downwards, drawing your attention to the bulge growing in his suit trousers. Years worth of need and longing bubbling over all at once.

“If you want this, tell me. If not, that’s fine. But it doesn’t need to be anything romantic. Can be just sex. Whatever you want.” He was doing his very best to stay calm, his brain finally catching up with his mouth and considering that he was now in way too deep to just apologise and about to get his ass handed to him at thousands of feet in the air by one of the best legal minds in the world.

You’d never wanted anything more in your life. It was almost like Bucky was dangling himself in front of you. A piece of meat before a lion that could be snatched away at any second. You weren’t going to give him the chance, professionalism be damned. You were out of your seat and onto his lap in a flash, your pencil skirt hiked up to allow you to bracket his legs in your own.

“Are you sure about this?” Your quizzed softly, giving him one last chance to back out before you lost all self control.

“Do I feel like I’m not sure?” His voice was almost a choked whisper, his hands landing on your hips to press you down against his stiff cock.

You’d never seen him like this before. Horny and needy and losing himself in the feeling of you on top of him after years of fantasies. He had tried to curb the fantasies but his body didn’t allow him to. You were all he could think of on those lonely nights, a hand wrapped around his cock, groans and whimpers escaping until he came over his hand, a cry of your name pulled from his lips. He thought you would never know. And now here he was, the woman of his dreams perched in his lap, asking to be taken care of. Even the filthiest parts of his brain couldn’t have come up with this.

He could never have dreamt how you moved forward so tentatively, your lips hardly even touching his. He was used to seeing you confident, in control, the calmest person under pressure and yet here you were, unsure of yourself for the first time, he imagined, in your life. You both kept your eyes open for a little while, your lips sliding together gently, getting a feel for one another, up until your teeth sank into the plush skin of his bottom lip and an actual groan left him, his eyelids fluttering shut. The sound could’ve made you quiver with need. It was so alarmingly sexy, knowing your huge, sexy PA could be taken apart with the smallest touches. Suddenly, this seemed to be as much, if not more, for Bucky’s benefit than your own.

“Thought this was for me, hm?” Somehow your condescending court voice was pushing him over the edge. You felt one of his hands come up, tangling in your hair while the other wrapped around your waist, pulling your core flush with his clothed cock. He kissed you with a burning intensity that made your head swim and your pussy throb, loving how he was taking control but still hurtling further into a breathless, needy state.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve thought about this. Didn’t think we’d be joining the mile high club.” He huffed out a little light laugh, using his grip on your waist to help you roll your hips over his growing erection.

“Couldn’t have been thinking about this for as long as I have.” You smiled softly, letting out a little gasp as his cock nudged you just right through your panties that you were sure had been soaked through already. His eyes went wide at your admission, his dick twitching deliciously underneath you.

“Fuck, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.” He whispered, making you laugh at how eager he was.

“I won’t be able to wait until we’re off this plane Bucky. You gonna fuck me right here?” You teased him softly, your faces so close, your tiny hands running down his pristine shirt, toying with the buttons. When you began to graze his chest gently with your nails, it was like a switch flipped inside Bucky. He thrust up against you with a growl loving the yelp you let out, one hand now squeezing your ass, the other massaging your breasts through your blouse.

“Gonna fuck all the stress out of you. Gonna have you leavin’ this plane leakin’ and cockdrunk.” Somehow you didn’t even doubt his words and you had to admit, it did sound quite appealing to give up the control for a while, just letting Bucky take over.

“Gimme all you’ve got Barnes. Gotta make it worth my while or this is gonna be the last time you get the chance.” You couldn’t help but tease him before instantly realising that might have been a mistake, his lips burning hot as they worked against your own, needy, insistent and as always, eager to please.

His mouth was relentless to the point that you found yourself practically dry humping his cock, your hands laced in his hair while his untucked your blouse from your skirt, greedily holding onto any skin he could reach. He tasted of peppermint and coffee, smelt like the expensive aftershave you were so fond of and felt like a man who’s only purpose in life was to make you cum until it hurt.

“Need you. ‘Nside me. Now.” You managed somehow to pant the words out between the fervent slide of his lips over yours, his tongue dipping in to taste you, never wanting this to end.

The feeling of your much smaller hands landing on his belt buckle made him look down but he could’ve cum then and there at the sight that met him. The front of his suit pants were slick with your mess, proof that he wasn’t just dreaming and you really were needing this just as badly as he was.

“You’re so fuckin’ ready for it aren’t you? Look at the mess you’ve made. Why didn’t we do this years ago?” He was groaning, shifting in his seat to help you get his trousers and boxers down. You couldn’t help how you gasped a little at the sheer size of him, his cock thick and long, the head slick with precum, proud veins running up his shaft. He looked Godly. Two firm pumps was all it took to have his head thrown back against the plush leather seat, cursing and bucking against your hand, aching for more.

“I’m sorry Buck, I can’t wait any longer.” You panted, his lips attached to your neck now, kissing, licking and sucking all his frustration into your skin. If there was a time for foreplay, that wasn’t it. Neither of you had the patience right now.

“Thank God, needa feel this pretty pussy.” He all but whispered as you lined him up at your soaking entrance.

“Shit Bucky, you got a condom?” You asked anxiously, stilling yourself at the last second.

“My bag, zip compartment at the front.” He replied quietly and sure enough, that’s exactly where you found a packet. Tearing the wrapper off, you slid it down his length earning another groan from the huge man who was practically shaking beneath you.

“You think of everything.” You giggled, finally beginning to slowly sink yourself down onto him. Your laugh quickly turned into a breathy moan, your breath mingling with Bucky’s and you noticed how he made a very similar noise. You pressed yourself down slowly, your body having to adjust to the stretch.

“So tight, fuck. Shit, never felt a tighter pussy in my life.” He whispered when you were finally seated on top of him. He pulled your skirt out of the way to appreciate just how connected your bodies were in that moment. His cock just seemed to fit perfectly, so snug you could’ve cried as you began to slowly work your hips against his.

“Oh my god Bucky you’re huge.” You should’ve been embarrassed by how high and needy your whine came out but right then and there, you didn’t care.

“It’s all yours sweetheart. Gonna fuck you so good you never need another cock again. Gonna ruin anyone else for you - fuck.” Under normal circumstances you would’ve chastised him for being so overconfident but feeling how his cock nudged your sweet spot perfectly, you thought he might actually be right.

“Gotta fuck you angel, can’t just sit here anymore, ‘s driving me crazy.” He just couldn’t keep himself still any longer, lust burning behind his eyes in a way you had never seen in him before. You lifted yourself up slowly, feeling his length slipping from you, your walls fighting to pull him deeper until you sank back down, taking the whole length at once. The strangled cry that left Bucky was incredible. You repeated your gentle rise and fall, setting a decent pace. Every sharp fall of your hips tore a needy gasp from both of you, the sweetest spot inside you throbbing from the almost constant onslaught. It was everything you craved. Bucky was grasping at every curve of your body, lost in the feeling of your soft skin and the grip of your silky walls and the smell of your shampoo as you rode him, building speed as your pleasure built in your lower belly. The wet sounds escaping where your bodies were joined was nothing short of obscene, only fuelling Bucky to meet each of your thrusts with his own.

“Oh my god, I -oh oh- I can’t, can’t take it Bucky please.” You groaned, manicured fingernails digging into his chest.

“I got you honey. ‘s okay. Gonna take such good care of you when we get to the hotel. Just want you to cum once for me now, okay? Take the edge off. You feel so good wrapped round me. You know what else I can feel? Your pretty pussy is leakin’. Feel you drippin’ down over my balls. Never felt anything so hot in my ‘ntire life.” His fingers fell to your clit, rubbing neatly as if he had been trained to do nothing else. You were on cloud nine, your high so close but not quite there yet.

“Bucky, gonna cum. Oh fuck!” You whined, your orgasm hitting you like a train. You came with a loud cry, eyes squeezed shut, rocking against him more than fucking so his cock stayed buried inside you.

“Shit, how did you get even fuckin’ tighter. ‘M so close.” He whispered against your neck, broken and needy. Your high had all but subsided, aftershocks still pleasantly coursing through you as you went back to letting your hips rise and fall so Bucky could finish. It only took four more well timed thrusts before he was cumming with a shout, pulling you flush against him as his balls emptied into the condom.

You were both spent and sweaty but more satisfied than you could remember being in months, your chest pressed to his as you both came down, craving a little extra affection. Bucky held you for a good few minutes until you felt his cock softening, knowing he really should get cleaned up. You let him slip from you, pulling your skirt down to take your original seat across from him again.

“Gimme a second.” He whispered, kissing your forehead before making his way to the little bathroom, returning a few minutes later looking just as put together as ever, apart from his telltale grin.

“Jesus, we should do that more often.” You smiled quietly when he returned, letting him settle in the chair beside you this time, the dividing arm rest pushed out of the way so you could cuddle as much as possible given the limited space.

“I can’t stop now honey. That pussy is addictive.” He smiled, happy to see you leaning so comfortably up against him but even happier when he heard your soft little snores.

Taglist:

@harrysthiccthighss @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @justatirednightowl @littlecanadianlani @babebr @sebsbrokentoe @badgirlwolfy

[some-little-infamy]

You Don’t Want What You Saw, but You Saw What You Wanted

(Read on AO3)

Steve never imagined he’d be playing a festival - an honest-to-god popular music festival and not just some local country fair bandstand - in a million years. This is just a fun hobby for him, a side project he hadn’t seriously planned on turning into an actual career. It just sort of happened, the pieces falling into place until one show led to another, and now, well, here he is.

At a festival.

The best part of it all is that he can wander the grounds before and after his set with little-to-no recognition. Wearing a wig and sunglasses on stage started off as a prank of sorts, the aftermath of a lost bet to his best friend Nancy. It worked for him, strangely enough, and turned into a whole thing that he continues to this day. It has the added benefit of making him virtually unrecognizable to casual fans who haven’t managed to track down photos of him without the disguise.

“This is insane,” Jonathan says from a foot in front of him, spinning around to walk backward in front of Steve as he talks.

“Thanks for the tickets,” Nancy adds.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve says, shrugging off the gratitude with an easy smile. There’s no one else he’d rather have here, which is convenient because there’s also no one else he could have as his guest since no one else even knows he’s in a band.

“You two wander, have fun, and I’ll find you after my set, alright?” Steve asks.

“As if we won’t be there,” Nancy says, sounding as enthusiastic as the first time she had the opportunity to see his band live.

Steve shakes his head. Nancy’s seen his set almost as many times as he’s performed it but he can’t blame her for being particularly invested in seeing this one. After all ---

“It’s your first festival, man! We wouldn’t miss it,” Jonathan exclaims.

The two head off in the direction of the main festival stages while Steve glances around to make sure no one’s watching him before ducking back toward the performer staging area. He pulls his badge out from where it’s tucked into his t-shirt, the holographic PERFORMER label shining in the sunlight as security waves him through.

It’s surreal. Steve has to use every single ounce of self-control not to completely lose his mind over the number of musicians he passes from bands he idolizes. These are famous musicians. These are celebrities. He can’t help but feel seriously out of his league here.

The crowd during his set proves otherwise. It’s easily the largest group he’s ever played for, with Nancy and Jonathan loyally at the front singing every word. Not for the first time, Steve reconsiders his decision to perform in a wig as the sun practically bakes him the entire hour he performs, but he’s committed to the vibe at this point and he isn’t about to change it now.

The second Steve gets backstage he takes the wig and sunglasses off, stashing them in his guitar case just in time to turn around and walk directly into someone behind him.

“Shit, sorry-” Steve starts, but the words drop abruptly when he locks eyes with the man he just bumped into.

Eddie Munson. The lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin, and Steve’s current biggest celebrity crush. It isn’t a genre he listens to often, and honestly, it was Eddie’s charisma and presence during interviews and fan meets that really drew Steve’s attention to him and his band. Steve knew Corroded Coffin is playing the festival but he somehow never imagined a scenario where the two of them might actually meet - and now he’s gone and run into the guy.

“No worries,” Eddie easily dismisses, eyeing Decide’s van that Steve just put his guitar case down in front of. “You here with Decide?”

Eddie knows his band.

Steve takes a second for that to sink in. Eddie stands in front of him, black leather pants tucked into black boots, paired with a simple white t-shirt tucked into the waistline. There’s a jean jacket slung over Eddie’s arm, the one he always wears when he performs, and up close Steve can make out some of the well-worn pins and patches.

“Uh, yeah. I… yeah.” Steve manages, cursing his sudden loss of any ability to be suave and debonair.

“I should be the one saying sorry to you then,” Eddie says with a light, amused laugh. “No, that’s mean. I shouldn’t say that. Just because I don’t like them doesn’t mean they aren’t… objectively decent.”

It feels like Steve’s heart plummets into his stomach at the words. Eddie Munson knows his band and hates them. Well, fuck.

It also occurs to Steve that if Eddie’s saying this to him then there’s a solid chance that he has no idea who Steve is, exactly. He probably just thinks Steve’s a random roadie.

“I don’t think they’re that bad,” Steve offers, seizing the opportunity to try and sway Eddie’s opinion.

“And I’ll forgive you that lapse of judgment because you’re hot,” Eddie says with a wink and a smirk. That Munson charm Steve’s seen through a screen countless times is life-altering to hear in person.

Any negative emotions Steve feels over the knowledge that Eddie hates his music are immediately replaced by the rush of endorphins brought about by the fact that Eddie thinks he’s hot. He could die here and now and die happy… or he could live to flirt back, which seems like the superior option. Regaining a little more self-awareness now that most of the shock has settled he couples the offer with the slightest shift in his posture, standing up a little straighter, jutting his hip out slightly, and running a hand through his hair to bring a little life back to the wig-flattened locks.

“You know, I could give you all the inside info on the band you want. Maybe after your set? Over drinks?” Steve offers impulsively, a hopeful smile on his face.

Eddie looks interested and considers the offer. Every millisecond of silence from him feels like a lifetime while Steve waits for a response.

“I’d rather learn about you,” Eddie counters.

“That works, too,” Steve agrees, grinning like a goddamn fool.

“Hey, Munson! We’re on in five, get a move on!”

Steve and Eddie both turn their heads toward Gareth Emerson, another member of Eddie’s band who stands several yards away waving a guitar in the air exasperatedly.

“Duty calls,” Eddie says, turning back to face Steve. “Be here when I get back?”

For the briefest of moments, Steve thinks he sees a flicker of uncertainty on Eddie’s face at the question, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” Steve promises as Eddie leaves to join the rest of his band.

[atlaculture]

Cultural Fashion: Fire Nation Brides

The Fire Nation wedding dress we see in “The Avatar and the Fire Lord” is based off of traditional Korean wedding robes known as wonsam (원삼). According to Wikipedia:

It was worn by queens, high-ranking court ladies, and royalty during the Joseon dynasty of Korea (1392-1910)... The queen, princess consort, and consort to the first son of the crown prince wore it as a soryebok, a robe for small ceremonies, while wives of high officers and sanggung (court matrons) wore it as daeryebok, a robe for major ceremonies.

After being popularised by royalty, commoners were granted permission to wear wonsam at weddings only... Today the wonsam is worn primarily in representations of Joseon royal ceremonies and as a wedding garment, and in a much simplified version when performing traditional Korean dances.

So it’s an appropriate dress for the wife of the Avatar to wear at her wedding. Also, the cloth she’s wearing over her shoulders are Korean wedding ribbons known as deulim-daenggi (드림댕기).

The braided hair she’s sporting is called an eoyeo meori (어여머리), which was a hairstyle popular among female members of the Korean royal family. The hairstyle involved several important parts: the wig used to make the braided halo around the head of the wearer, the stuffed silk or som jokduri (솜��두리) used to cushion the hairstyle, the hair ribbon or maegae daenggi (매개댕기) used to hold the wig in place, and the hair decorations or tteoljam (떨잠) used to adorn the wig.

The headdress she’s wearing is a tteoguji (떠구지), which were meant to emulate the appearance of having even more hair to braid up and display. Tteoguji were typically made of a lacquered wood, painted to match the hair color of the bride. Since Ta Min (Roku’s wife) has brown hair, her tteoguji appears to be unpainted but still lacquered. Apparently, these wooden headdresses were actually lighter than using real hair extensions to achieve that butterfly-like silhouette. The eoyeo meori style paired with the tteoguji headdress creates the bridal hairstyle known as Keun Meori (큰머리) or “The Big Hairstyle”.

Avatar was animated in Korea and many of the designs were done by the Korean staff, so it’s not surprising that you’ll see snippets of Korean culture in 3 out of the 4 nations--- I haven’t found any Korean influence in the Air Nomads, but I’m also not super familiar with Korean Buddhism.

[mochatears]

I have contributions to offer!!!

Here is a labeled cast picture:

I’m pretty confident that I’ve labeled all of the actors correctly, with the exception of the cat I’ve labeled Amy Rattray, but I still don’t have all the character names! I also don’t know Gus’ actor’s name.

You already identified the actors of the two Queens not visible in this shot, but here’s Rumpus Cat, played by Zane Andrews.

You can see him with the ensemble in the corner of the alternate angle of the group picture:

Some other notes I have:

On Avie/Jaxon — as far as I can tell, Jaxon Coke is Avie’s drag persona. There are pictures of her out of drag on his FB and both accounts are often tagged in pictures of her.

Tori has a video in her CATS highlights reshared from a friend where she does a ‘Tori to Plato’ transition, which is where I initially identified her as Plato (and then saw the FB comment later).

Bombalurina doesn’t just perform silks, she can be seen performing on an aerial cube as well!

It seems like Mungojerrie’s actor may have transitioned since this production, to be safe I’m using the name currently attached to their FB page, which is Danisa.

On the fluffy jackets some of the cats wore: I think they may have come off for the dance cats when choreo got more energetic. I say this as an Australian — those coats look like a nightmare to dance in in spring. That’s my speculation, though.

Joanna, who plays Demeter, appears as the yellow cat in promotional material. Although her jacket and yellow palette appear to be applied to Jennyanydots in the final production, I wonder if Demeter wasn’t originally intended to be a yellow cat? While Charlotte (Jemima) kept the coat from promo images, she is also shown in some wearing a tassely piece either the same or similar to the one worn by Jenny during the show, and her wig looks like it might have gone to Lavina Monk. Basically, I wonder if the differing costumes in these promo images were a result of genuine design changes, or just mixing and matching costume pieces they had in hand because they weren’t done finalising the looks of the characters yet.

And, if you haven’t already found it, here’s some of Mr. Mistoffelees from telethon7!

hi i know you had posted about perth cats back way back in march but i was wondering if you knew anything more about the production? i’ve went down a rabbit hole trying to figure out who is what cat and who plays who using your list as a base to go off of and several hours and a good little stockpile of images later i still haven’t found anything more.

what i have found though is jemima’s actor’s full name is charlotte louise, victoria’s actor was an actor called avie grey (though i don’t know what cat is victoria) and other actors of unnamed cats include: lisa williams, tori brown, ella tweedle, rebekah wilson, lavina monk, caitlin atherton, jordy andrews and jaxon coke (all found through tagged images and birthdays posts by platinum productions on facebook) i can provide images of each of these unnamed actors so there is a cat face to attach to them just not any names still - @themagicoolcat

Not weird! I haven't looked much into Perth lately but I took another peek around with the names you listed. I didn't find much (but I did stumble upon some of those birthday posts you mentioned, I don't know how I didn't find them the first time).

It looks like Avie Grey played the clown cat, so if she's Victoria that means Vicky is the clown?

Plus Tori Brown would then be straight-haired pink cat, but I didn't see any names for that character.

I did find some of costume pictures of Sooz Bennet/Bennett? who plays Skimble, so based off of my (poor) sense of facial recognition, I think the orange long-haired one is Skimble

(Ignore the crazy person pin board vibe of my notes lmao)

Only other thing I really came up with is that I think (think) Tara Lynette Elliot mightve been on the production. Specifically and only bc she's been employed by the same company for other musicals + she looks a hell of a lot like the half pink-half orange jacket cat, which could mean nothing but I'm choosing to believe.

Given that it seems like none of the ensemble characters have ever had their names posted (by official or cast accounts) I honestly wonder if theyre just not named characters. Notably this cast skews heavily female, and quite a few of the usual Cats ensemble characters are male. So it's very possible that they just weren't named if their role wasn't 1-1 to some replica character's role (Demeter, Bomba, Victoria, etc).

I feel like the cast members would say something in the caption alongside a picture of their role ('had fun playing Alonzo in Cats this year!' or whatever) if they did have names and yet I have yet to come across anything of the like. Which is the lame disappointing answer unfortunately, but this production wouldnt be the only nonrep (or rep honestly) with a handful of unnamed ensemble or swing characters.

[imaginepirates]

Pirate

For the anon who wanted a James x reader where they meet on the Pearl, but James doesn’t have the guts to admit that he’s falling for them. Later, (we’re pretending his death didn’t happen), they meet again at Shipwreck Cove, and James confesses his feelings during the battle on the Dutchman.

@emdrabbles​ @tesserphantom​ @paljonkaikenlaista​ @viper-official​  @hellspawn-brownies​ @groovyfluxie​ @wordsinwinters​

~3760 words. Long again. 

~~~~~~~

           His hair hung in wet strings around his face. Whether they were matted together with water, alcohol, or vomit, you weren’t sure you wanted to know, though you suspected it to be a mixture of all three. A guard rail was all that kept him upright. He was a disaster, even for a pirate. Not that he’s a pirate, either.

          The former Commodore looked a wreck. You would be, too, you supposed, if you’d drunk yourself into complete oblivion. And someone needs to take away that damned wig. Currently, it sat on his head much like some bird’s nest, and you half-expected a gull to land in it at any moment. Pity mingled with your disgust. There had been a time when his name alone had struck fear into you. Now, he was a pathetic image, unable to do so much as hold himself up on two feet. He couldn’t strike fear into a fly.

          You were a bit surprised that Elizabeth, of all people, showed him no sympathy. Even Jack looked a bit repulsed, which was saying something, given that Jack himself was never in a prime state. He staggered upright, puking over the side of a railing.

          You sighed, walking brisky over, snatching the wig off the top of his head and tossing it overboard. He looked up at you through bleary eyes.

          “What the bloody hell was that for?”

          “You look awful.”

          “Thank you for your astute assessment.” Even drunk, his tone dripped sarcasm, and you were a little surprised.

          He’s still in his wits, then. You looked him over again. Somewhat. “You look marginally less awful without the wig.” He grunted. You grabbed the bottle he was holding, too, and threw it over the side.

          “Now that’s just a waste.”

          “You need to sober up.”

          “And who exactly are you, that it’s your job to police me?”

          “You’re embarrassing, is all, and it’s no good to be embarrassed by crewmates.”

          He snorted. “You should write to the admiralty. That sort of thinking would have spared me many of my own crewmates throughout the years.” He stared down into the waves, where his water-clogged wig had begun to sink under the surface.

          “Well, you don’t want to be that person, do you?”

          “At this point, I don’t particularly care.” His wig finally lost the battle, disappearing into the murky depths.

          “Have some pride.”

          “Pride?” He pushed himself up, looking coldly into your eyes with his own. “I’ve lost my title, I’ve lost my station, I’ve lost my livelihood. I have no house, nor family, nor friends. I’ve lost everything I ever held dear, including the woman I love, because despite being with her,” here he gestured with his chin to where Elizabeth stood at the helm, “I’m further from her than ever before. Now please, tell me again why I should have pride.”

          If you were being honest with yourself, it was hard to give him an answer. “You still have your life, and for however little that’s worth right now, things could be worse. You could be dead. Take pride in the fact that you didn’t let things get that far.” He scoffed, but you continued. “Go clean yourself up; splash some water on your face, and do something about the vomit in your hair. Things can get better. Clean up, and you’ll be one step closer.”

          He looked at you then, a vulnerability in his eye that wasn’t there before. Hope. He stalked off then, stumbling a bit, but trying admirably to, supposedly, follow your advice.

          Norrington carried out his tasks admirably and without complaint, no manner how demeaning for a man of his previous station. He was watched with suspicious eye; but why wouldn’t he be? He had been a ranking officer, after all, and an effective one at that. Too many pirates had been lost to his scouring of the Caribbean. Just how far can you trust a member of the navy, former or otherwise?

          The way he looked at Jack’s compass didn’t escape your notice. He knows. “Not thinking of stealing it, are you?” His neck craned to look up at you from his position kneeling on the deck, a wet cloth in hand. He stopped his scrubbing to glare.

          “I’m not a thief.” He looked back down, returning to his task.

          “You are a pirate.”

          His head whipped up at that, jaw working in annoyance. “I’m not a bloody pirate,” he hissed.

          “Then what the hell are you doing here? Top secret mission? I’m surprised you were chosen; I wouldn’t believe your fall from grace if I weren’t here to see it myself.”

          Norrington was showing clear restraint, obviously wanting to hit you with something. You watched him breifly consider using the wash-rag as a projectile before deciding against it.

          “Commodore Norrington. That was a name to fear, once.”

          The ferocity in his eyes vanished, replaced by sadness, his gaze dropping from yours. “I haven’t been that man in months. I never will be again.”

          “Good.” He shot you a questioning look. “It’s no use to be afraid of you. And, if what I hear from Elizabeth is true, you might learn to have some fun and not be so stiff all the time.” Offence flashes across his face, but you only smiled. “I blame high society. Welcome to freedom, James Norrington. I hope you get a taste for it.”

          He turned to look out over the steadily changing horizon, a soft pink beginning to dust the sky. “So do I.”

          The days wore on, and the crew steadily adjusted to James’ presence. He no longer ate alone, though he ate in silence, and the crew was more willing to interact with him. Elizabeth, you noted, had barely paid him any mind since his arrival. How she could be so callous towards him you didn’t know; you had expected her to at least talk to him, but she barely even looked his way.

          Not that he didn’t look hers. His gaze would fall upon her, sometimes, while he worked, and there was a sadness there that tugged at your heart. He was confused, too, as to her treatment of him. He wanted, more than anything, to be close to her. Even if she could treat him like a friend. But she refused to give him even that much.

          You were tired of watching it. “Come on,” you walked up to him, “let’s do something about that hair.”

          “You haven’t grown tired of telling me what to do, have you?” he drawled. He was propped against a railing, eyes following Elizabeth as she walked across the deck above them. With Jack, you noted. So, it seemed, did James.

          You sighed. “It can only get in the way, hanging down by your face like that.” You turned away, heading down belowdecks. He needs to get away from watching her.

          James followed, pushing off the railing and heading after you. Good. You found a spot with a few barrels—full of apples, you assumed; you never had gotten rid of all of Barbossa’s cargo—that would be suitable for sitting on. You motioned for James to do just that, moving behind him.

          You found yourself at a loss for words. What was there to say? You had little in common, and less that wouldn’t bring back poor memories for him. You kept silent, instead running your fingers through James’ hair. It’s longer than I expected, for a naval man. I wonder if he always kept it like this, or if it was close-cropped, once.

          “What exactly are you doing?” He turned his head a little to look back at you.

          “Braiding.” You separated his hair into three parts, beginning to twine the strands together.

          You expected him to ask you why, or to move away, but he stayed put. “I haven’t worn my hair in a braid since the navy.” It was almost a whisper. Somehow, in the low light of the hull, it seemed appropriate.

          You almost pulled away and apologized, but he went on. “I used to braid it to fit it under that damned wig. It could get so insufferably hot in the sun, though I was always glad to have the hair off the back of my neck. I don’t know how Elizabeth ever managed, in those dresses.” A soft smile sat on his face. “How did any of us manage, back then?”

          You knew he wasn’t speaking of the heat. You tied his hair off with a small strip of ribbon from around your wrist. It was interesting, to see something of yours on him, and you stared at it a moment before moving. “You’ve always kept your hair this long, then?” You moved to a barrel across from him.

          “For years. My mother hated it.” He smiled. “She told me it would be easier if I just cut it off.”

          “Good thing you didn’t.” He looked at you curiously, and you felt yourself beginning to flush. “It suits you.”

          His eyebrows raised in surprise. Even in the dim light of the lanterns, you could see his cheeks turn pink, the color extending down into his collar. You sat in awkward silence a moment, James fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves while you looked down at the black deck. “A name to fear, you said.”

          James was still toying with the cuff on his left wrist when you looked back up. “I think I like you this way better.”

          “I’m not sure I do.”

          You got up, moving to a barrel next to his. “I’d rather not fear you.” You grabbed his hand, taking it gently away from its fiddling. He scanned your eyes. “Like most people, you aren’t as terrifying as the stories make you sound.”

          “I never thought of it that way.”

          “That you struck fear, even into the best of us?”

          “I…” he trailed off. “It seems so ridiculous, that anyone feared me. I know I was good at my job—it was all I was good for.” He scoffed. “But I was so out of place in society…I always felt horribly awkward at all those social events. I was much more afraid of those people than they were of me.”

          “You were like…” you wracked your brain for a parallel. “You were told stories about Blackbeard when you were a child, right?”

          “Yes, of course. Upon reflection, I’m sure they were too dramatic to be true.”

          “That’s how you were to us. You were a reverse Blackbeard.” James laughed aloud at that. “I can’t even tell you how I pictured you. Larger, maybe. Older. And with a horrible, mean beard that took up half your face.”

          James smiled, and you found you quite liked the expression on him. “Am I as scary as the stories?”

          “Not even close. Though I’m sure I wouldn’t want to meet the business end of your sword,” you added.

          “Is Blackbeard as frightening as the tales?” James questioned. Then, more seriously, “Is Davy Jones?”

          You sobered. “Aye, he is.” You found that his hand was still in yours—he hadn’t pulled away. “But it’s mixed with disgust. He isn’t human, anymore. It can be revulting. And sad,” you said, upon reflection. “I can’t imagine; losing your humanity like that.”

          James said nothing, his eyes on your entertwined fingers. He ran his thumb over your knuckles. “Why do you talk to me?”

          You shrugged. “There’s no reason not to.”

          “That doesn’t seem to be the common belief.” He continued to rub gentle circles in the top of your hand. His fingers were calloused from years of hard work, but so were yours. He traced over your knuckles and each finger in turn. His brows furrowed. “It’s pity, isn’t it?”

          You could see how disgusted he was with himself. “Some, yes,” you admitted. “But you’re not half-bad to be around. This was…nice. I haven’t had a quiet moment with someone in ages.”

          He looked at you thoughtfully, using his free hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re not half-bad either, for a pirate.”

          You smiled, and he looked like he might say something more, but he stayed quiet, a soft smile of his own gracing his features. When he left, you knew he was in a better mood than when he came. I wonder if I’ll occupy any of the space in his thoughts that Elizabeth does. It was a silly thought, and you didn’t quite know why it came to mind, but there was a ghostly touch where James had brushed your hair aside, and you realized that you liked the idea of his thinking about you. Wishing for the attention of a naval man. Who would’ve thought?

~~~~~~~

          The news about Isla de Muerta came hard. You had been anxious the entire time, confined to the Pearl on the account that Davy Jones could make an appearance, and the ship would need to be crewed if he did.

          You weren’t prepared for the eventuality that James wouldn’t come back. You had worried, of course, wringing your hands with it, but you hadn’t actually thought…

          You kept your tears for him to yourself. Nobody else was bothered—not even Elizabeth. A man she’s known her entire life, dead, and she has no sorrow to show for it. How can she be so heartless? It was as if nothing had happened at all. The crew ignored it; they were used to that, you supposed. Half your number had been killed by cannibles, after all. But even Gibbs seemed unbothered by the prospect of James’ death.

          Only later did you realize that James had taken the heart. You didn’t believe it, at first, but slowly came to reconcile yourself with the idea. Elizabeth thought him a traitor. But was he ever really on our side? You thought back to your conversations with him. I like you this way better. It had been true. I’m not sure I do. That was true, too, and now he’d shown it.

          At first, none of it mattered to you. He was dead, anyway. Slowly, you began to realize that Jones didn’t have the heart. After all, he hadn’t quit pursuing the Pearl, even if you didn’t have the heart. When you learned that the heart was in possession of Cutler Beckett, damn his eyes, your heart leapt with joy. James is alive! No matter the mood of Jack, or Gibbs, or Elizabeth, or the crew, you could only think of James. He wasn’t killed, then. He used the heart as leverage to secure his old position.

          You pondered the thought. If ever you met him again, would you be afraid? Or would you just be sad?

~~~~~~~

          Shipwreck Cove was just as you’d remembered it. Dimly lit, ships stacked one on the other, whispered conspiracies in every corner. Every sailor’s legend had its place in these ships. There wasn’t a legend that hadn’t been speculated within the fortress, and not a pirate who hadn’t chased them without.

          You had fond memories of the Cove, but less fond memories of the Court. The Brethren Court convened on only the deepest of issues, and you still remembered some of their gatherings from when you were a child. It was loud, and there was no order, and the Court couldn’t meet without at least one death per session.

          It was that way now. Jack toyed with the swords stuck in the globe at the front of the room while the other pirate lords surrendered the miscellaneous junk they deemed their pieces of eight. The end result was a dish full of random trinkets. Not that you didn’t understand; the idea that pirates obtained mass amounts of wealth was a myth. Most of the time, you barely had a shilling to your name. Working with Jack was especially non-lucrative, but it was certainly more entertaining.

          Jack’s hand strayed briefly to the piece of eight at his temple. “Might I point out that we are still short one pirate lord and I’m as content as a cucumber to wait until Sao Feng joins us.”

          “Sao Feng is dead.”

          You recognized that voice. You whipped around to see Elizabeth, clad in full Chinese armor, sword in hand. You smiled to yourself; she was always full of surprises.

          The best surprise, however, was the man standing at her side. You mouthed James’ name, and his eyes locked on yours. He stepped forward, as if to greet you, but you were interrupted by further discussion of the Court. He’s alive, and he’s here, and I never thought I would see him again. You glanced over your shoulder. And he’s in full uniform.

          The Court was chaos. Barbossa’s plan to free Calypso was not taken well by the others, and you couldn’t blame them. Your mind was preoccupied, focussing on the man somewhere behind you. You wondered if he had seen the relief in your eyes. Had he felt the same?

          A hand settled on your shoulder. You turned to see James, worried eyes staring into your own. He pulled you back, leading you out of the room.

          “James?” You felt your eyes beginning to water. “For the longest time, I thought you had died.” Your voice cracked, and you were unable to stop it.

          He opened his mouth as if to say something, but only reached out to you, pulling you into a firm embrace. “I’m so sorry.” His breath tickled your ear. “I’ve done horrible things.”

          You held tightly to the back of his coat. “I’m just happy to see you again.”

          He stepped back, pain blossoming across his features. “I know you can never forgive me, for what I’ve done. I can only hope you-”

          The doors behind you opened, and the Court flooded out. The consensus is war, then.

~~~~~~~

          The rain made it hard for you to keep a good grip on your sword. The Dutchman pitched and rolled under your feet, waves crashing rougly into the sides of the hull. Its mast, tangled with the Pearl’s, loomed above you, a towering dark figure in the haze of the monsoon.

          These damned fish people. The Dutchman’s crew fought more viscously than even Barbossa’s undead pirates. Who knew starfish could be so angry? You feared that their weapons, often tarnished and jagged, would catch on your own and leave you defenseless. I should’ve stayed on the Pearl. But there are fish people there now, too.

          At least you weren’t alone. Elizabeth and Will were with you, as was Jack, though he seemed to be having difficulties of his own. If you hadn’t been fighting for your life, you might have been more amused. You had lost sight of most of your crew mates. You were too focused on the eel-headed freak in front of you to give your fellows much thought. With your swords locked, you had no other way to grapple with the beast. It hadn’t occurred to you that the eel could elongate its neck, which was exactly what it did, arching forward to bite at your face.

          A moment later, the head lay at your feet, the slimy body collapsing beside it. James was there, sword in hand, looking at you with concern. That, or he’s squinting to keep the rain out of his eyes. You gave him a nod, stepping in closer.

          “There are too many of them. We’ll never get to them all. Some of them are coming right out of the walls!” You both looked around yourselves at the endless numbers in the Dutchman’s crew.

          “We only have to kill one.” James gestured towards the other end of the ship, where Davy Jones stood, lobster claw digging into the wood of the deck.

          “We don’t have the heart.”

          “But we both know who does.” James’ face was grim. “I should’ve stabbed it while I had the chance.”

          You grabbed his arm. “No. You would be just like Jones, then, bound to this ship for eternity. You’d have no humanity left.”

          “I’d be better than I am now.”

          The comment broke your heart, but there were too many enemies around for you to focus on it. You slashed at a shark-headed monstrosity before James pulled you in close, stabbing something just behind you. Now isn’t the time for blushing. But James was holding you tightly to his chest, and you heard him shoot another member of Jones’ crew.

          You hated to let go, but you had to duck under James’ arm to go after another, and another. Your back ended up pressed against James’, and you could feel each others’ heavy breathing.

          “I don’t think we’re going to make it out of this alive.” You had to shout to be heard over the thunderous racket. Between the rain, the gunfire, and the sharp clanging of swords, there was little room for words.

          “It doesn’t seem likely.”

          “You were trying to tell me something earlier.” Rain ran down your face in streams. “Now might be your only chance.”

          James put a hand on your shoulder, turning you around to face him. “I wanted to apologize, for it all. I hope you’ll accept it.”

          “Of course.” You grabbed the pistol from his side, leveling it at a creature behind his shoulder.

          “You didn’t deserve what I did.”

          You cupped his face with a hand. “I understand why you did it.”

          “You were the only one who treated me like a person, then, on the Pearl.” He had grabbed your arm, keeping you close. It occurred to you that you were both going to die like this, paying too much attention to each other and not enough to your surroundings. “I can’t…” James took a steadying breath. “I can’t help but love you for it.”

          You barely had time to process the words before his lips were on yours. Despite the storm, and the gunfire, and the clanging of swords—despite the knowledge that neither of you were going to make it out alive—the kiss was achingly tender, with so much softness and vulnerability that tears began to slip down your already soaked cheeks.

          This won’t be such a bad way to go.

          There was a sudden shuddering of the ship, and you and James had to cling to each other to keep upright. You looked up, only to find that the Pearl had broken away, her masts now untangled from the Dutchman’s.

          You tugged at James’ arm. “We have to go. I think the ship’s going under.”

          He nodded, and you found a loose line to swing over to the Pearl. The Dutchman sank not long after you hit the deck. The ship fell beneath the waves, sucked under by the storm.

          “We still have to face Beckett.” James looked out over the water to where the British armada was advancing.

          You could already feel some of the fight leaving you. How could you withstand an armada, when you’d barely defeated the Dutchman? “At least we have each other, now.”

          James looked down at you. “Yes.” He cautiously wrapped an arm around your waist. “And after? If there is an after.”

          You smiled teasingly. “I hope you don’t mind returning to piracy.”

          James smiled back. “I don’t think I’ll mind at all.”

[cosplaytutorial]

Hello! If someone was hoping to cosplay MT/Lake from Infinity Train, what would be the best ways to get that full-body silver look?

Hello there!

There’s a few things you can do here, with varying levels and types of skills involved.

For the clothing, you can either buy clothing or you can make clothing. If you make the clothing, look for silver metallic fabrics: silver lame, silver pleather or vinyl, silver foiled or silver mystique (foil dot) spandex, etc. These won’t be comfortable fabrics to wear, but you can get a more realistic metallic look this way.

If you buy clothing, start with a grey base and paint over it with fabric paint. This will take a long time and a lot of paint. For anything stretchy, be sure to stretch it to at least the amount of stretch you need when worn while it is being painted, or else it may not stretch enough once the paint is dry. Make sure the paint is either safe for fabrics or you mix another paint with fabric medium, or else you will end up with crunchy, flaking clothes! You may find it easier to use a spray-on fabric paint like this one (there are many other brands, so look around at reviews) than to use a bottled paint you have to brush on. Since you’d be using a grey base, you would really only need enough paint on the clothing to give it the shiny appearance.

You can also try a hybrid approach if you can find a silvery mesh fabric, and add the silvery mesh over existing clothing.

For the wig, since this outfit is a pretty cartoony style, I have a cursed suggestion: style a grey base wig to exactly how you like it, and then spray paint it with regular silver spray paint. It will have to be stored on a wig head as to not squish it and flake the paint (though spray painted wigs are more flexible than you’d think), and the style isn’t going to ever budge again. 

If that’s too cursed for you, look into what Land of the Lustrous cosplayers do with bits of vinyl and tinsel and add some metallic touches to a regular silver wig. You can also use silver hair glitter to add to the look.

For the skin, you are going to have to get familiar with body painting techniques, but thankfully you really only need to do your face and neck. I would find some metallic silver tights that are a lighter color than your leggings and wear them underneath, and also find (or make out of an extra pair of tights) matching silver gloves for you hands.

I haven’t personally done silver metallic body paint, so someone in the comments may have brand suggestions, but I have heard good things about Mehron’s metallic powder. Be sure that you research proper setting methods for whatever type of paint you go with (we can always help you with that here once you decide on a type).

I would also suggest adding a bit of a silvery white highlighter to the high points of your face to create an additional shiny metallic look and to add a bit of dimension back in.

I hope that helps! Good luck. :]

—Fabrickind / Q&A Staff / Twitter

[000inreality000]

I know the girls love a straight jet black 40 inch weave but I love seeing black girls wear more textured hair when it comes to weaves, wigs etc.. and even braids and locs.

I don’t even think the girls realize that doing this can allow more black girls to embrace their natural hair. Granted there are some women that genuinely hate their natural hair but it’s usually a result of judgements and rules (outside of their own) and not solely from their own belief.

“I hate taking care of my natural hair…taking care of my natural hair is too much work”-because you weren’t taught how to properly treat it. Getting your natural hair done was probably a painful experience because the person doing it did not know how to properly style it. What’s interesting is the girls will say this but spend $1000s on lace fronts to cover their hair furthering the damage and still complain.

“My natural hair doesn’t look right on me”-because someone out there told you it was ugly whether it be directly or indirectly. Maybe it was your mom, your aunt or some one close in your family that made it seem as if your natural hair was a burden when getting it done or the constant reminder of how “nappy” your hair was which you correlated to ugliness, etc..

“I love my natural hair…”-says the girl who no one believes because she has never worn her natural hair out and is currently wearing a lace front and has been for over 10+ years.

A lot of the dismay with our natural hair is a result of what we think men want to see as well. I know you all who claim that your lives do not revolve around men don’t want to hear it but lets not act like there aren’t black girls/women out there constantly wearing bone straight lace fronts, sew ins etc.. to appeal to men (especially those of a certain demographic).

I just want to see more black girls/women embrace more textured hair while taking care of their hair underneath or just wearing their natural hair altogether. It’s no reason why you haven’t seen your real hair or let it breathe in 10+ years. Of course our hair is flexible and we’re able to wear it straight if we choose to. Some of us may actually like our hair straight, which is cool! Yet, think about why that is the only style you go for?

All in all, so what you feel is best for you! This is my opinion, if you don’t agree I want to let you know I truly do not care🤍

[tolerateit]

Unless this TS10 album is the third folklore sister, I don’t think her aesthetic will be wildflowers as much as I’d love that. It seems too repetitive for blondie who is known to reinventing herself every era. Also, starting a whole ass era when she could be getting a re-recording out of the way doesn’t seem really convenient, the 10th album will obviously be cut short just like it happened to “Lover” and I don’t think that’s something she’d want to do.

But, hey, blondie loves to get our clown wigs out of the closet and remind us that we haven’t worn it in a while, so 🤡

I definitely don't think woodvale is a thing especially since she debunked it herself and I also just can't see her releasing a whole new album merely five months after she released red tv + a mv + a short film! The only insider info I'm holding accountable is one that said she'll post a pic on insta 😭 manifesting cat pics ksjdjsjeje

[poupeesdecirque]

My current plans and projects.

Alrighty, I have three wip dolls at the moment which are Fizz, Wisely and the Milennium Earl. Fizz needs a body and then cloth, but I haven’t even ordered the body.

Earl needs to be sculpted (new progress will be posted soon), then clothes and a body as well. He has at least shoes.

Wisely is at least a full doll but needs so much to be done, for now I have made the wig cap, that’s it. I hope to make the wefts the coming days and then continue with the wig.

Then we have several incoming rolling heads that will be turned into Sokrates (OC) and a ton of more dgm themed dolls (Lavi, Lenalee, Kanda).

You might have noticed this blog runs on queue for a while now, the reason is that I worked on a lot of things and everything piled up.

Then the seasonal void at work began, I am overloaded and worn out, I truly struggle to do anything right now. I pick up little things here and there and the queue is stocked for a bit longer, doesn‘t change it partially takes up to one month until stuff is posted. My weekends up to end of 2022 are _all_ booked with things and I have literally no idea if I can squeeze anything in at all. I work overtime each week, it’s basically coming home, eating, and existing for like 1 hour until I fall dead into bed.

As this blog is just my “fun to have” progress thing don’t expect much from me, it might get quite silent soon. I am trying to post at least my fanfic updates (I have written up Warmth to a point I can post the chapters without worrying to run out of chapters soon, Secrets will take until I am less buried).