My first ever comic con! And first cosplay too. Of course it's gonna be my boy :] Ramblings about the process are under the cut(Let me know if?? You would want me to elaborate with process images for any of the steps?)
The costume took me forever to make, as I've never done any machine sewing, sculpting, fabric dying or spray painting before but learning all of these was so fucking fun!! I never realised just how many different skills go into making a cosplay but it was so worth it!!!
Almost all of the clothes(except the hat) were purchased first as bases, but all of the detailing was added by me. All of the fabric used was originally just scraps that I was given for free so I needed to learn how to dye and dye all of the stars, they were originally white.
The sewing machine was its own beast that brought me tons of frustration from the lack of skill and knowledge (it was devastating to find out that 95% of fuck ups were my fault and not the machine's lmao). But as a result, a hat sewn from scratch, all of the fur trims, embroidery on the corset, stars and the collar(which is very hard to see on the pictures unfortunately) was all added manually. The stars and the stripes(on the back of the cape) were attached using heat-and-bond adhesive (I WISH I knew about such thing just when I started working on this. It would save me so much time and nerves.)
Then I found out about polymorph(mouldable plastic) and it has become the next thing I wanted to learn, to sculpt the claws and the fangs(yes, they're handmade jfksjs). The claws I then primed and painted in trillion coats because I wasn't satisfied with the colour of the spray paint. The fangs I moulded to my own teeth and then stained with tea to match the colour of my teeth :)c
As for makeup, I used Mehron Paradise water activated paints. At first I wanted to try to save money and bought myself Snazaroo instead, which unfortunately turned out to be a waste. Snazaroo didn't hold on my face for longer than 2 hours, cracking and peeling awfully. Mehron on the other hand survived 11 hours of me smiling, talking, emoting and such and didn't even crease at the smile lines(I'm actually shocked about that). It obviously works like any other makeup which means your skin texture and wrinkles won't go anywhere but Mehron's elasticity pleasantly surprised me. It did obviously smear from sweat and saliva(if you're eating and licking your lips) but if you don't touch the skin it just dries again, self setting. But if it's dry it's fully smear-proof. Highly recommend!
And last but not least, I've decided against painting my hands as it was very risky that I will stain everything I touch at the smallest hint of sweat. So instead I got myself gloves-tights(? Not sure how they're called but it's made from the same fabric as tights) and painted them with normal acrylic paint(did you know you could dye fabric with acrylic paint? I personally didn't), then heat set with an iron and voilà, they're reusable, my hands are not stained after an exhausting day and I don't stain everything I touch. It worked wonderfully which honestly was a surprise as I was really sceptical that acrylic paint will somehow stay in place.
I think this whole thing took me minimum of 6 months with big-big breaks for my school and life in general. But I'm really proud! This project taught me so many new skills and I couldn't have been happier about learning new knowledge, even if it sucked to fail in the meantime.
Everyone at the con was really nice and gave me a large confidence boost even tho it was my first time and I had no idea what I was doing. Taking photos with other people was really awkward/new for me as I hate cameras so I really had no idea how to pose/behave in front of one. But that's okay I think. This whole experience definitely made me want to do this again, so I think that will come with experience. Thank you for reading this far, hope you enjoyed this little summary :)
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you're grabbing lunch with a nice man and he gives you that strange grimace-smile that's popular right now; an almost sardonic "twist" of his mouth while he looks literally down on you. it looks like he practiced the move as he leans back, arms folded. he just finished reciting the details of NFTs to you and explaining Oppenheimer even though he only watched a youtube about it and hasn't actually seen it. you are at the bottom of your wine glass.
you ask the man across from you if he has siblings, desperately looking for a topic. literally anything else.
he says i don't like small talk. and then he smiles again, watching you.
a few years ago, you probably would have said you're above celebrity gossip, but honestly, you've been kind of enjoying the dumb shit of it these days. with the rest of the earth burning, there's something familiar and banal about dragging ariana grande through the mud. you think about jeanette mccurdy, who has often times gently warned the world she's not as nice as she appears. you liked i'm glad my mom died but it made you cry a lot.
he doesn't like small talk, figure out something to say.
you want to talk about responsibility, and how ariana grande is only like 6 days older than you are - which means she just turned 30 and still dresses and acts like a 13 year old, but like sexy. there's something in there about the whole thing - about insecurity, and never growing up, and being sexualized from a young age.
people have been saying that gay people are groomers. like, that's something that's come back into the public. you have even said yourself that it's just ... easier to date men sometimes. you would identify as whatever the opposite of "heteroflexible" is, but here you are again, across from a man. you like every woman, and 3 people on tv. and not this guy. but you're trying. your mother is worried about you. she thinks it's not okay you're single. and honestly this guy was better before you met, back when you were just texting.
wait, shit. are you doing the same thing as ariana grande? are you looking for male validation in order to appease some internalized promise of heteronormativity? do you conform to the idea that your happiness must result in heterosexuality? do you believe that you can resolve your internal loneliness by being accepted into the patriarchy? is there a reason dating men is easier? why are you so scared of fucking it up with women? why don't you reach out to more of them? you have a good sense of humor and a big ol' brain, you could have done a better job at online dating.
also. jesus christ. why can't you just get a drink with somebody without your internal feminism meter pinging. although - in your favor (and judgement aside) in the case of your ariana grande deposition: you have been in enough therapy you probably wouldn't date anyone who had just broken up with their wife of many years (and who has a young child). you'd be like - maybe take some personal time before you begin this journey. like, grande has been on broadway, you'd think she would have heard of the plot of hamlet.
he leans forward and taps two fingers to the table. "i'm not, like an andrew tate guy," he's saying, "but i do think partnership is about two people knowing their place. i like order."
you knew it was going to be hard. being non-straight in any particular way is like, always hard. these days you kind of like answering the question what's your sexuality? with a shrug and a smile - it's fine - is your most common response. like they asked you how your life is going and not to reveal your identity. you like not being straight. you like kissing girls. some days you know you're into men, and sometimes you're sitting across from a man, and you're thinking about the power of compulsory heterosexuality. are you into men, or are you just into the safety that comes from being seen with them? after all, everyone knows you're failing in life unless you have a husband. it almost feels like a gradebook - people see "straight married" as being "all A's", and anything else even vaguely noncompliant as being ... like you dropped out of the school system. you cannot just ignore years of that kind of conditioning, of course you like attention from men.
"so let's talk boundaries." he orders more wine for you, gesturing with one hand like he's rousing an orchestra. sir, this is a fucking chain restaurant. "I am not gonna date someone who still has male friends. also, i don't care about your little friends, i care about me. whatever stupid girls night things - those are lower priority. if i want you there, you're there."
he wasn't like this over text, right? you wouldn't have been even in the building if he was like this. you squint at him. in another version of yourself, you'd be running. you'd just get up and go. that's what happens on the internet - people get annoyed, and they just leave. you are locked in place, almost frozen. you need to go to the bathroom and text someone to call you so you have an excuse, like it's rude to just-leave. like he already kind of owns you. rudeness implies a power paradigm, though. see, even your social anxiety allows the patriarchy to get to you.
you take a sip of the new glass of wine. maybe this will be a funny story. maybe you can write about it on your blog. maybe you can meet ariana grande and ask her if she just maybe needs to take some time to sit and think about her happiness and how she measures her own success.
is this settling down? is this all that's left in your dating pool? just accepting that someone will eventually love you, and you have to stop being picky about who "makes" you a wife?
you look down to your hand, clutching the knife.
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having thoughts. about buck and tommy and 'daddy', and about how eventually, the use of it starts to occasionally leak outside of the bedroom, too.
they don't always use it when they're having sex, just when the right mood hits for it. and it's not really a thing, except for how it's maybe become a little bit of a thing, but it's also not something they make into their entire dynamic; they don't want it to be, really. they're just having fun with it. but tommy's not blind to how well buck responds to it, either. how when tommy refers to himself as 'daddy' it grabs his attention, makes him listen, makes him melt, soft and pliable in tommy's hands.
the first time he uses it outside of sex, he doesn't really mean to. evan's just come off a rough 48 hour shift. he's bruised, inside and out, body trembling and exhausted and ready to drop at any moment, but in true evan fashion, he keeps insisting that he's fine. tommy doesn't push him, doesn't make him talk, knows that's not what evan needs right now, knows that part will come later. but when he catches him in the bathroom, fighting a losing battle to get his top off over his head because it's pulling uncomfortably at all his aches and bruises, he also knows he can't keep watching him hurt. so he slips inside the room, loud enough to make evan aware of his presence, but quiet enough to not startle him, either. he crowds up behind him, takes evan's wrists in his hands and carefully brings his arms back down to his sides. drops one hand onto his waist afterwards, places the other over his chest, feels the way that evan's breath hitches and gently, but firmly presses evan back into him. hooks his face over his shoulder, drops a kiss, two, onto evan's throat, and nuzzles his face a little into the crook of his neck and says, "it's okay, baby, let daddy take care of you now," and feels the way evan shudders, and then completely melts against him. there's still tension in the outlines of his body, but he's putty in his boyfriends hands right now, and tommy will help ease the rest of it away in the hours that follow.
-
he finds himself using it more intentionally after that, though it's still few and far between.
like when evan ends up in the hospital, again. injuries minor, but completely avoidable if not for the dangerous, reckless stunt he'd pulled. he struggles to keep the upset off his face after he knows for sure that evan's going to be okay, and his boyfriends quick to pick up on it. things quickly turn into a heated discussion that tommy's sure evan must have had a million times before with other members of his family by now, and when it's apparent that what he's saying isn't really sinking in, he makes a decision without giving himself time to second guess himself. stands up from his seat, quickly makes sure that no one else is around and bullies his way between evan's legs from where they're hanging off the edge of the hospital bed. evan's hands immediately come up to hold his waist, pull him in closer, but tommy doesn't let himself get distracted. gently, but firmly grabs evans chin in his hand and holds it in place. makes sure that he has evan's eyes locked on his own, says, "evan, listen to me. daddy needs you to come home to him, okay? i can't lose you."
evan's mouth drops open, breath escaping him. and then his hands grip tighter at tommy's side, whole body softening and swaying forwards, towards tommy. whines, quietly, "t-tommy, that's not fair."
"baby boy, anything's fair if it keeps you alive," he says. means it with his whole being. moves his hand to cup evan's cheek instead, and leans down to press a quick kiss to his lips.
-
his least favourite memory using it has his hands coated in evan's blood. a drunk driver t-boned them on the passenger side. tommy was driving. his memory's hazy, doesn't remember everything; doesn't think he wants to. but he remembers evan's blood. the way it seeped past tommy's fingers no matter how hard he pressed. how it matted in evan's curls and stained his lips. and he remembers evan's fluttering eyes, fighting to stay open, "no, no, no, evan- evan, keep your eyes open for me. evan, come on, baby, eyes open. i know it's hard, but you gotta keep them open," he remembers begging, "evan, evan- daddy needs you to keep your eyes open, okay? can you do that for me, baby boy? that's it, keep them open for daddy," remembers thinking hysterically that evan's usually the one begging, that it sounds so much better when he's the one doing it.
remembers how weeks later, the only good memory to come out of the whole ordeal, evan had cheekily presented him with a 'my daddy is my hero' mug.
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