#circuit board jewelry

[lockhartandlych]

wyd if the priest in your confessional booth is wearing this instead of a cross

[cyberebel]

So, I went to a lavender festival 2 weeks ago. I know I wanted to buy a souvenir so I went looking and shopping. I wanted something unique but nothing really stood out to me…until I saw this. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of the necklace. I kept saying how “cool” it was. The owner was really sweet and told me that she made the circuit board necklace from her old windows 7 computer and how it was a challenge to cut the pieces to make the necklace. She mentioned that there were matching earrings, and I freaked out. I knew I had to get both the necklace and earrings. I’m never gonna see this again. This is it. This is the souvenir I wanted—I thought to myself. She noticed I took them off the shelf and asked if I was gonna wear it. I told her no but I was gonna buy it. So she bagged the items for me and now I’m happy to say it’s mine. It’s so beautiful to look at. I’m not even sure if I’m gonna wear it because I’m scared I’m gonna break it or lose it. (I just realized right now that the earrings are pierced through a plastic sheet that has a circuit design which is super cool)

[onyxzoe]

[transgenderdragons]

Ive participated in the divine act of creation again see below

in order: pearly bead tooth bracelet, metal bead circuit board bracelet, and beaded skeleton/keys choker! all photographed on my sketchbook which i may or may not occasionally use for swatching

[highonai]

[reasonsforhope]

"Scientists have developed a way to dramatically reduce the cost of recycling certain electronic waste by using whey protein.

Their method allows for the easy recovery of gold from circuit boards at a cost of energy and materials amounting to 50 times less than the price of the gold they recover—these are the numbers that big business likes to see.

Indeed, the potential for scalability depends on this sort of cost savings, something traditional e-waste recycling methods just can’t achieve.

Professor Raffaele Mezzenga from ETH Zurich has found that whey protein, a byproduct of dairy manufacturing, can be used to make sponges that attract trace amounts of ionized gold.

Electronic waste contains a variety of valuable metals, including copper, cobalt, and gold. Despite gold’s public persona as being either money or jewelry, thousands of ounces of gold are used in electronics every year for its exceptional conductive properties.

Mezzenga’s colleague Mohammad Peydayesh first “denatured whey proteins under acidic conditions and high temperatures, so that they aggregated into protein nanofibrils in a gel,” writes the ETH Zurich press. “The scientists then dried the gel, creating a sponge out of these protein fibrils.”

The next step was extracting the gold: done by tossing 20 salvaged motherboards into an acid bath until the metals had dissolved into ionized compounds that the sponge began attracting.

Removing the sponge, a heat treatment caused the gold ions to aggregate into 22-carat gold flakes which could be easily removed.

“The fact I love the most is that we’re using a food industry byproduct to obtain gold from electronic waste,” Mezzenga says. In a very real sense, he observes, the method transforms two waste products into gold. “You can’t get much more sustainable than that!” ...

However the real dollar value comes from the bottom line—which was 50 times more than the cost of energy and source materials. Because of this, the scientists have every intention of bringing the technology to the market as quickly as possible while also desiring to see if the protein fibril sponge can be made of other food waste byproducts.

E-waste is a quickly growing burden in global landfills, and recycling it requires extremely energy-intensive machinery that many recycling facilities do not possess.

The environmental value of the minerals contained within most e-waste comes not only from preventing the hundreds of years it takes for them to break down in the soil, but also from the reduction in demand from new mining operations which can, though not always, significantly degrade the environments they are located in.

[Note: Absolutely massive understatement, mining is incredibly destructive to ecosystems. Mining is also incredibly toxic to human health and a major cause of conflict, displacement, and slavery globally.]

Other countries are trying to incentivize the recycling of e-waste, and are using gold to do so. In 2022, GNN reported that the British Royal Mint launched an electronically traded fund (ETF) with each share representing the value of gold recovered from e-waste as a way for investors to diversify into gold in a way that doesn’t support environmentally damaging mining.

The breakthrough is reminiscent of that old fairy tale of Rumpelstiltskin who can spin straw into gold. All that these modern-day, real-life alchemists are doing differently is using dairy and circuit boards rather than straw."

-via Good News Network, July 19, 2024

[helios-writings]

Stupid in Love

Sanji x gn! Reader

Wc: 1.8k

Warnings: none

You’ve been in love with Sanji for a long time, but have never been brave enough to do anything about it, until now.

The breeze brushes against your face as you stare out at the blue sea, the rising sun peaking out above the horizon. You were up earlier than the rest of the crew, wanting to watch the sunrise before the day dove into chaos, as it was bound to do when Luffy was awake. You watch the rest of the stars disappear and then climb down from the crow’s nest, ready to begin your day.

You always woke up earlier than the rest of the crew, cherishing the alone time you got in the morning silence, the waves crashing against the Sunny being the only sound filling the air. You took a deep breath, letting the salty air wash over you, before the yelling started.

“Luffy, get out of the kitchen!” Sanji shouts, followed by the crashing of pans.

“But I’m hungry!” Your captain whines, and you laugh, before heading into the kitchen to herd him elsewhere.

“You should ask Nami about where we head next, I hear there’s a port nearby.” You tell Luffy, who grins in response before running off to bother the navigator.

Sanji sighs. “Thanks. Have you been awake long?”

You flush. “Who? Me? No.”

He cracks a smile like he doesn’t believe you and hands you a glass full of something to drink. “Well, you are welcome in here any time, as long as you clean up your mess.”

“Don’t worry about any mess from me! I’m as clean as they come, haha.”

You turn to walk out, run into the doorframe and contemplate walking into the sea, wishing you had eaten a devil fruit so you could drown. There was something about Sanji that made your brain short circuit and disconnect from your mouth, letting it run unattended.

“Are you….okay?”

You’re almost certain there’s a mark on your forehead from the door, but you wave him off. “Never been better.”

You are definitely walking into the ocean when you make port, it’ll be less embarrassing in the long run.

Making your way from the kitchen, you run into Zoro, who is desperately trying to hold back his laughter. “That was-”

“Say one more word and you’ll be tied to the front of the ship as the new figurehead.”

He doesn’t take your threat seriously. “You’re this flustered over curly brow in there? Unbelievable.”

“I hate you. So much.”

He’s still cackling as you walk away, and you definitely don’t deserve Zoro to understand what you see in the cook, but Sanji was…..he was amazing.

You saw parts of him that no one ever did, like when you helped him in the kitchen and he hummed softly to himself, sleeves pushed up to his elbows as he washed the dishes. When you accidentally cut yourself with a knife and he doctored it right there, eyebrows furrowed in concentration but you were only focused on the impossible blue of his eyes, always focused on his eyes. Sanji was kind and gentle and brave, but no one else could see that.

Soon enough, the crew made port and you went ashore alone, desperate to avoid Sanji(and the more annoying Zoro) but mostly to find something to give to the cook, if you could sync your brain with your mouth long enough to have a meaningful conversation with the man. But what would you get him? He didn’t use cookbooks, and he bought his own ingredients(not that you’d know where to start, being as you wouldn’t be able to know what were good quality ingredients).

He wasn't a jewelry guy either, though he would wear it beautifully but then you remember a conversation the both of you had a few months ago.

Sanji sets the knife down on the cutting board with more force than necessary, startling you. He laughs lightly and apologizes.

“I need new knives, but I keep forgetting to buy any when we make port. Would you remind me?”

You flush and nod furiously but say nothing, just watch as he picks up the knife and starts chopping again.

You grin and make your way towards a stall you passed a few minutes ago, now certain that you were getting Sanji the perfect gift. At least you hoped so.

***

You were the first one back to the ship, box in tow, leaving it in the kitchen where you knew he would find it. You had decided that you didn’t have the courage to give them to him yourself, but hoped he didn’t think much of it. Maybe he would think one of the other crew members gave them to him.

Proud of yourself, you climb up the crow’s nest again to look at the stars, always seeming brighter when you make port. You hum to yourself as you do so, leg bouncing in anticipation. What if he hates them? Or he tells you that he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore? Were you risking your friendship over a set of knives?

Just as you had decided to return them, you heard the crew clambering back on deck and you curse, crouching low so they don’t see you. It works, because they soon start asking each other about your whereabouts. They don’t seem especially worried, since it’s a safe town and you’re more than capable of handling yourself, but it’s nice to know they care, even if they tease you.

The crew goes their separate ways, and the cook finally heads into the kitchen to start prepping for dinner and that’s when you begin making your way towards the lower decks.

You almost make it when he comes back and spots you. “Oh, there you are!”

You turn and grin. “Here I am, haha. What do you have there?”

You gesture to the box, though you already know its contents.

Sanji beams, and it’s so bright you fear you may go blind. “Knives! I don’t know where they came from, but they’re gorgeous.” He takes on out to show you.

It is gorgeous, that being the main reason you purchased them. A beautiful pearl handle, topped with a gorgeous steel blade. You knew he’d love them, even if your brain wanted to argue.

“That is really pretty, Sanji.”

“Did you leave them? I know we talked about knives a while back.”

This is your chance.

You shake your head no and shrug. “Sorry, wasn’t me, but I hope you find who left them soon.”

His face almost falls at the aspect of you not being the gift giver. “Oh, well, whoever it was picked out a really nice set.”

You smile at him as he bids you goodbye and you curse yourself for not telling him the truth. Oh well, you suppose it’s better than him rejecting you outright. It was kind of nice, leaving him anonymous gifts.

He seemed happy to receive it, but it was always nice to see him happy, especially since it seemed to be a rare sight most days. You wanted to continue making him happy.

***

A few days later, Zoro joined you in the crow’s nest before dinner.

“You know, the shit cook really wanted those knives to be from you.”

“Huh?”

He rolls his one eye. “You’re not serious.”

You say nothing.

“You are. The cook’s been staring at you and sighing hopelessly for days, it’s really pissing me off.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“He told Robin the other day he wanted it to be you. Plus, the whole crew can see that you two are in love with each other. Even Luffy.”

“I’m not going to take romantic advice from you of all people. Sanji and I are friends. Really good friends, a friend I have no intentions of confessing to.”

Zoro sighed, leaning his arms against the wood. “Do you remember when we got into that fight with that gang of bandits a few months ago? And you got injured real bad and were unconscious for what, three days?”

“Of course. Why?” You thought he was just changing the subject.

“Curls was the one taking care of you while you were out, making sure you drank water, helping Chopper clean and dress your wounds, sitting on a chair in the infirmary while you slept, he was really worried.”

You open your mouth to object, to say anything other than what was going through your head but he cuts you off.

“And don’t you say he would do it for any one of us, because that’s bullshit. Now go down there and tell him how you feel.”

The swordsman pushes you towards the ladder and you begrudgingly climb down and head for the kitchen. It wasn’t like Zoro to lie, in fact he was the most honest man you knew, so you knew he had to be telling the truth.

You knock softly on the door before you enter and find Sanji beaming at you. “Hey, what brings you by?”

“I….I think we should talk.”

He sets the towel on the edge of the sink. “Okay.”

You wring your hands as you sit on the counter, something that the cook used to object to but now has accepted as a quirk of yours. He leans next to you.

“I did buy you the knives. I was too scared to give them to you myself so I left them in here for you to find.”

“Why didn’t you say something when I asked?”

You aren’t looking at his face but you can feel his gaze burning you. “I really fucking like you, Sanji. It actually makes me stupid because I like you so much. You’re just so incredibly caring and strong and I like being around you because you make me happy and I didn’t want to ruin anything by telling you that.”

“You wouldn’t have ruined anything.” He tells you, voice impossibly soft.

“You sure?”

He takes your face in his hands, and you are trapped in the impossible blue of his eyes once again. “I’m certain, because I feel the same way.”

You laugh a little wetly as he kisses your hand and then your cheek before finally meeting your lips. It’s a little sloppy, but you have nothing to compare it to. You know he doesn’t either, and he told you as such one late night in the kitchen.

He pulls away grinning, cheeks a little red. “That was…nice.”

You lay your head on his shoulder. “Yeah.”

The two of you get one quiet moment before the crew charges in to tease you and you yelp as Franky wraps a particularly large arm around you and ruffles your hair, while the rest of the crew begins to tease Sanji for getting up to no good in his kitchen.

He yells and scolds them all while you laugh, and then when he makes eye contact with you over the chaos he smiles and everything is as it should be. Perfect.

[leclerced]

Lando givesaq his girl a plush toy on one of their first dates. He wins it for her or just buys it from a local shop with souvenirs and she’s absolutely obsessed with the little toy. She has it in her bed every night and cares for it as if it’s was definitely more valuable than it is in the eyes of other people. After some time of dating and going back and forth they decide to move in tighter so she ofc takes the plushie with her and when Lando sees it he’s like “why did you keep it? It’s years old and not even pretty” but she tells him that she loves it and has loved it since he gave it to her. When he was away she’d hug the toy and think about him, maybe even she stole his perfume one time and sprayed the toy so it would also smell like him. And suddenly Lando gets emotional because it was such a small thing and it meant the world to her. He asks if she kept anything else and she laughs and tells him that she has everything that he gave her throughout the relationship. Every note, every box, every ribbon even. She shows it to him and tells him from where and when the item came from

lowkey thats so me tbh i have adhd real bad and will keep things for years. i have a pencil with a brain eraser on it that i got nearly ten years ago. ive never sharpened the pencil or used the eraser. its purely for the vibes. a guy gave me a circuit board that he made for a car and i kept it for like 4 years.

they go to a local carnival and he wins it for her !! he completely forgets about it because it’s just a teddy bear from their first date, and he knocks it out of her hand and it falls in a puddle so he tells her she can toss it. then they’re moving in, she’s doing all the decorating while he unboxes the big things and arranges furniture. he goes to their bedroom while she’s unpacking those boxes and sees it on their bed and asks, “okay i hope this isn’t weird but does your childhood stuffed animal have to stay on the bed we have sex in?? it kinda creeps me out.”

she wants to cry because he doesn’t remember and he thinks its creepy. he sees how sad she looks and starts apologizing but she explains that it’s not from her childhood it’s from their first date and he suddenly remembers winning it. and suddenly hes like oh thats so cute oh my god!!!! he falls more in love with her then asks why she kept it bc if he remembers correctly he dropped it in a puddle of mud and told her she could toss it bc its just cheap trash. she tells him she hand washed it as soon as he left and he asks why bc it was their first date? she’s kinda embarrassed but she’s like “i’m just sentimental i guess? i keep everything.” and he’s suddenly worried he’s moved in with a hoarder so he asks what she means by that.

she disappears into their new closet and comes out with a wooden jewelry box, he’d seen it before but never looked inside. she sits on the bed and pats the spot next to her so he takes it and she places the box between them. she starts with the lowest drawers, and it’s an assortment of polaroids they’d taken. he has a few himself, tucked in his wallet and in the visors in his car. the secret few of her in lingerie or naked, or his cock in her, hidden safely away inside his suitcase inside a little locked box. those are his keepsakes. but she has every other one they took, tucked away inside this ordinary jewelry box. the first drawer is completely pg13, but the one next to it… he picks through and takes a few of them himself to take with him when he leaves again. and then the ones above that are full of slips of paper, sticky notes, cards from floral deliveries, any kind of love note he ever gave her is organized inside with dates written on the back in her own handwriting so she’ll have an easy way to keep them organized.

in the drawers above that, every random keychain he’s bought her from each city he’s been to is stored. he noticed she always used the newest ones and assumed she trashed the older ones. above that is full of rings, and then bracelets. the top compartment, he expects necklaces, but it contains cards from every birthday, anniversary, christmas, love letters, post cards from the cities he’s visiting. anything that didn’t fit in the drawers below is squeezed into the upper compartment. she tells him about each one and how she looks through it when he’s been gone for awhile, how she rereads the letters he sent her, reads all the love notes he’d hide around her home. how she’d search for hours on end when she had nothing else to do, hoping to find more, which reminds him to start doing it in their new home.

he’s so surprised by it bc he saved a few things, but she saved every little reminder of his love that he’d ever given her. then she’s getting up and getting another jewelry box and tells him it only contains jewelry because he buys her so much she had to get another, and then she’s telling him which ones are her favorites and he’s noticing patterns in the styles she likes the most, which gems and cuts. he asks her about the clothes he buys her and she admits she didn’t keep all of them, just his or her favorite items, because she didn’t have a lot of space in her old apartment but now that they have a walk in closet, she’ll be keeping just about anything he gifts her, so he better think wisely unless he wants to see her wearing a hideous sweater he jokingly bought he that she loves simply because it’s from him.

instead of being scared she’s a hoarder, he spends hours going through each one trying to guess the year and month he gifted it to her, she’s finding the box of snow globes he buys at souvenir shops, and he’s guessing on those too. he loves how much every gift he gives her matters to her, whether it’s a post it note hidden in the cutlery drawer that just says i love you or a matching set of diamond earrings and necklace.

[localguarddog]

Tools of the trade Enver Gortash x Reader CW: injury, molten metal poured into open wounds, physical abuse, domestic abuse, emotional abuse, a fic with gortash, ifykyk

You should be used to this by now. You should be used to the quickly shifting moods this man goes through. The easy smile that hides so much angry at simple tiny things you were never aware of until he got his gilded claws around you.

Yet, here you are, in his workshop, in such a horrible and tense silence. It was a usual day off for him. No more meetings, no more paperwork, undisturbed by all but his closet advisors and most trusted guards. Just him, his thoughts, his tools, and his so called fiance, you.

He had you join him in the workshop early on in your.....arrangement with him. A way to open up to you, he said. If only you know that he was opening up a gods damned mimic to you.

At first, he was focused on training you to be the proper little assistant. Making you learn tool names and basic mechanical processes and terms. It was mind numbing. Until he took one of those tools and twisted it inside your gut for not remembering it's name.

Then it became your only reprieve from his cruelty in your everyday lives. You learned his craft with a fervor, quickly being able to figure out the tools he'll need before he even asks for them. You learned early on that offering solutions or advice would quickly get you tied to his work table and tinkered with.

So here you are, again, sitting there, body rigid as a wood board, because you opened your big fat fucking mouth because you were relaxed for a moment of time while he was working on a particularly difficult little powering device.

Your little comment made his fingers tense and then the loud bzzzzzzt that followed told you that you made him short circuit the thing. You had fucked up his work. The silence and stillness seemed to stretch on for hours, years, millennia.

It shattered so quickly with your brief moment of hope when the soft tink of metal tools against the metal tabletop broke said silence. He was slow and deliberate in his movements. Pushing the device forward, away from him, so he wouldn't tear it in two as his anger began to boil over inside of him.

He gave you a glance, those dark eyes of his felt like obsidian stabbing through your very soul. His fingers tapped the tabletop, never breaking eye contact. The soft drumming of his fingertips is even more terrifying than when it's the tapping of those obnoxious golden claws of his.

No, no, you don't get him in his public persona for this fuck up. You get the man who built himself from the ground up with his bare fucking hands. Calloused from constant work, sweating from the heat of the shop thanks to the magic buzzing in it and the forge that's always kept hot. The man who has enough dexterity to craft magically enchanted jewelry, and the strength to hammer fucking iron into submission. In his simple, yet still finely made, black pants and shirt, a dragon leather apron filled with his tools wrapped around his large frame.

He smirks, standing up quietly, going over to the forge. Oh gods, no. Not the forge. No. He's been heating metal to pour into molds for a new and improved fucked up collar just for you. The silence makes you want to tear your skin off, but you can't. One wrong move and you're be the next batch of kindling in that little hellfire that he uses for his personal work.

He fans the heat of the forge, looking into the crucible that has the prepared gold. Gortash steps away, looking over at you, before he goes to a shelf, grabbing a chisel and small mallet. No, fuck, no no no no.

You can't move, fear has you stuck in your seat. He goes back over, sitting back on the stool next to yours, his body turned towards you. He sets the tools on the tabletop, grabbing you by your knee and dragging you closer, your leg now caged by his own.

He cuts away the fabric of your pants with ease, the small dagger tucked back away into his boot as he looks over the clean expanse of flesh he exposed. On your upper thigh, closer to the inner side of it. He rubs his thumb along the flesh, a bit of grime from his tinkering smearing across it.

Fuck. You aren't going to be able to walk after this. You already know it. Soon enough, he has the chisel tip pressed into thigh, the mallet, completely unneeded with how strong he is, but used purely for his fucking enjoyment, aimed at the handle of the chisel.

Finally, he speaks, eloquent as ever. "I have been wanting to try this for a while, pet. And then you go and give me the perfect opportunity. Maybe this time, you won't let yourself speak when I'm working, hm?" He doesn't give you a chance to answer before the mallet slams down, the chisel piercing deep into your flesh. You tense up, a horrible hiss leaving your mouth as you grip the edge of the table.

He doesn't stop, continuing to carve into you as if you were stone, chiseling away in what feels like nonsensical patterns to you, just to torment you. Every downward swing you swear you can feel your very bones flinching away from him. You squeezed your eyes shut at one point, tears threatening to overflow. You didn't want to let them, didn't want him to win even more so than he already has.

Soon enough, through your muffled whimpers and choked back sobs, the chisel is pulled away, the carved out flesh removed and tossed into the bin. He stands, slipping away from you. You can't stop yourself from hunching forwards, gasping as you stare at the blood soaked floor, your leg throbbing with pain as his footsteps thrum in your head.

Your moment of reprieve is cut short as he yanks your head back, looking down at you as if you were a worm in front of a dragon. "Best hold still, or the gold won't settle correctly. You don't want to mess up my work twice, do you?"

Yet again, no chance to respond, as suddenly searing hot lava is poured into the new gashes on your thigh. You scream. You scream and scream and scream until your throat feels raw. It hurts so much. You thrash your upper body, not daring to move your legs even if you want to fling the molten metal off of you as quickly as possible.

He lets go after the metal has begun to rapidly cool into your open wounds, going to prepare more for his little project as you cry and heave, barely able to move your leg without the metal settling into the new space your squirming makes.

When you look down at your new engraving, you barely hold back a weak laugh.

There, inlaid in rapidly cooling white gold, is an intricate and large heart.

[literally-a-waffle-fry]

‼️I'm posting my yes man fnv headcanons cause my mooties seem to really like them!‼️ : 3

-yes man is unlabeled, but the closest thing he can see himself as is nonbinary though. He prefers he/they/it, but doesn't really care about what you use on him. He's also Demisexual and bisexual!

- he absolutely loves gifts. Seriously. You could get him even the smallest thing and he'd be soooo happy! He'll also become a lot closer and more defensive over you if you did.

- Since he's not really used to being treated like a person, if you asked him about his thoughts and feelings, he would be so grateful, and his heart would melt. Before his assertiveness upgrade, he wouldn't be able to exactly say no. He can be passive-aggressive enough to get the point across.

-he likes to listen to old pre war holotapes and music, his favorite song is Johnny guitar by Peggy Lee.

- his favorite color is blue! But he also loves green since it's not really a common color to see in the Mojave.

-he loves learning about the flora on the Mojave! If your character has a high science/survival skill, he would love for you to tell him everything! (His circuit board would BURN UP if you made him something out of flowers/gave him a flower)

-since being freed from the Tops casino, he gets very uncomfortable going back or thinking about it.

-his favorite animal is birds! He thinks they're very neat and likes watching them and learning about the different species. He wants to try feeding them, but they always fly away 💔

- likes printing out little images/notes for you. He'll leave them places and loves when you get happy/excited about it. He always worries about you too, sending messages on your pipboy very often when you travel without him.

- if you tell him to divide 0 by 0, he will stare at you and then proceed to shut down.

- he likes fighting quite a bit, it helps him feel so free from his old programming. Throwing general Oliver off the hoover dam awakened this!

-kind of like one of those girl best friends in high school. If someone is causing problems for you, he's gonna get rid of it (so sometimes you have to kinda talk him outta things cause he definitely doesn't mind getting violent over you ahem cough cough)

-sucker for romance movies. Seriously. If he could physically cry he would cry at those sappy old romance movies.

-if you have autism, adhd, etc. Yes man would do his very best to research those things to understand You better! Always asks for your advice too. He also tries to tone down his passive aggressiveness after he learns your autistic.

-after he has his upgrade, he has a lot of new expressions. Surprised, angry, sad, confused, etc.

-he also loves jewelry. If you made him a freindship bracelet, he would never take it off.

-PETRIFIED of insects. Especially cazadors, they freak him out. You have to kill them for him. The only way he'll fight them is from a distance. If he sees a radroach/other insect in the lucky 38, he will SCREAM and beg you to kill it.

[lockhartandlych]

good news! you can replace your tacky cross to a false god with a holy artifact to a REAL one TODAY!!!

[tsaritza-mika]

Random Main 6 HCs #13

Completely Random Modern Thoughts

Just imagine the shock on their faces when Julian, Asra, and Lucio all discovered they shared a love of K-Pop. And yes, there was a lot of celebrating, and maybe even a girlie scream or two when Lucio got them tickets to the next BLACKPINK concert

Portia is a pretty good amature sculptor. She’s not about to go pro anytime soon, but the things she makes can defs sell for up to a few hundred when she puts them up in her online shop

Nadia likes designing jewelry in her spare time. One of her favorite pieces was an idea combining Tree of Life symbolism with the imagery of circuit boards 

Muriel helps out a nice elderly couple on their farm nearby. They don’t have a lot of money to pay for his help, so they pay him with meals and  baskets of fresh lemons from the tree in their front yard to take home with him 

Julian and Nadia often gift each other with small desk toys and neat nick-knacks. It helps them both to calm their thoughts while at work or when stressed out, and other times they just look like cool/fun things the other might like

Nadia absolutely loves large aquariums, and plans to open one for the public as soon as soon she can find a good place around the city to begin construction

Julian has 100% spent a good few months unironically jamming to ‘Dumb Ways to Die’ and ‘Still Alive’. Can still be caught humming either on occasion when trying to calm down or concentrate

Asra and Portia volunteer as leaders for local after school programs together. They plan out activities, special events, and even take the kids out for little field trips to the beach or park 

Lucio can toss snacks/candy in the air and catch them in his mouth. Can also touch the tip of his nose with his tongue

[dorkofclanlavellan]

Luck is a Funny Thing - 2. Bated Breath

Notes: N/A

Pairing: Haymitch Abernathy x OC (later installments)

Warnings: Mentions of death/killing

Chantilly stood near the chariot for District 8, battling down her nerves and maintaining an unreadable expression as she casually observed the other tributes. Tanner, her district partner, stood few feet away. She had Woof and Cecelia as her mentors Tanner had the others. The victors of the 34th and 44th Games, neither as old as Woof, both still in great shape.

Chantilly wasn't sure if Tanner was relieved to not have Woof as his mentor or disappointed because the youngest of his mentors was nearly 40. Whereas Cecelia was only a few years older than Chantilly.

As the parade began and they waited their turns to be presented to the Capitol audience, Cecelia took mental notes of all the other costumes.

The District 1 tributes were draped in the most luxurious silks with the finest jewelry made of pure gold and decked in precious jewels that matched each tribute's eyes. Diamonds are woven into the tributes' hair and they're dusted in a golden sheen and with jewels in their lashes and nails.

The District 2 tributes were dressed in white marble tiles that formed into a Peacemaker uniform, helmet and visors included. The chariot was obsidian with gold waves and the horses were dappled.

The District 3 tributes were in deep green jumpsuits with gold and copper wires running in intricate patterns that both tributes pointed out did not reflect actual circuit boards. Both wore hair pieces that looked like microchips and had deep green eye shadow with gold flecks.

The District 4 tributes were in flowy outfits of light blue and white, and the horses and chariot were also designed similarly. The resulting effect made them appear as if they were sea spirits riding a cresting wave.

The District 5 tributes were dressed as lamps, complete with lightbulb headpieces. There was a strip of shiny material that made the lightbulb look lit.

The District 6 tributes were in tan-colored canvas pants, brown leather jackets, knee-high boots, scarves, and a leather headpiece that included goggles.

The District 7 tributes were once again dressed as trees. Only this time they looked like Magnolia trees blooming in spring and their chariot looked like a rolling hill.

The District 9 tributes were dressed in amber gold pieces that made them look like grain swaying in the breeze.

The District 10 tributes are both in dark leather dusters and hats with cowboy boots, gingham shirts, and cow-pattern pants for Raymundo with Miranda in a matching skirt. Raymundo's shirt is unbuttoned and his bolo tie is hanging loosely around his neck.

The District 11 tributes are dressed in colors and outfits that evoke different produce. Logan is dressed to actually look like a Loganberry bush. Thistle on the other hand looks like a grape vine with thistles painted on either arm.

The District 12 tributes as usual like coal miners but with decisive cuts in the outfits to show skin and leaving a lot of their bodies exposed.

As for District 8, the tributes were dressed in white mesh tops, black lace pants for Chantilly, and brown leather pants for Tanner. Tanner was wearing a red satin headpiece and Chantilly had a matching bow in her hair. Chantilly's lips, nails, and eyeshadow were deep red, and her eyes were sharply lined in black. Tanner was dusted in red and brown shimmer. They both had white lace gloves. Chantilly was draped in a red organza cape and Tanner had a brown felt long coat. Their chariot and horses were also draped in various textiles.

Chantilly mostly stared straight ahead, occasionally looking around to find one audience member and stare them straight in the eyes with an unreadable expression.

Each time the person would freeze, their eyes would widen and after a mere second, they'd look away from her. Each time Chantilly found it very amusing.

During training, Chantilly kept to herself. Sticking to survival skills, testing out athletic beams, and most importantly, observing the other tributes. She was keeping track of everyone's strengths, and weaknesses. Everything really.

Each day, she spoke only to Woof and Cecilia, going over her strategy. She wasn't charismatic and lovable like some of the other tributes but apparently, her icy cold stare scared people enough to want to support her. It was something she'd heard all her life, that her stare seemed to pierce right through you and weed out all your secrets and weaknesses. She wouldn't credit her eyes so much as her near-constant state of observation.

And she was going to use this to her advantage.

Then it was time for the private sessions. After her name was called, Chantilly stoically made her way to the center of the room and introduced herself. Her hands clasped loosely in front of her and her expression never changed.

"Selenite Herzog. Flexible, fast and amazing with distance weapons. But she's also arrogant, not particularly strong and like most Careers she has no survival skills." Chantilly spoke quickly, rattling off the facts of her opponent. A Gamemaker tried to interrupt her, probably to ask what she thought she was doing, but she didn't give him the chance. "I would use her arrogance against her and lure Selenite into a trap. I can guarantee she demonstrated her skills with a crossbow for you and was impressive enough to land a high score like 8 or 9."

The dumbfounded look on the Gamemakers' faces confirmed Chantilly's observations. After half a beat, Chantilly continued with her observations of all the other tributes of the games. Stating their names, strengths, weaknesses, what strategies she could use to kill them, making educated guesses as to what skills they demonstrated in their own private sessions and what score they probably landed or would land in the case of the later tributes.

She spoke quick enough to avoid running out of time but not so quick that the Gamemakers couldn't understand her. It was probably the most attention the Gamemakers paid to any tribute from District 8 in decades.

After she finished with Corbin from District 12, she merely took a breath and continued, "And finally, Chantilly Burnett. Remarkably observant, a skilled tactician with an aptitude for mind games. She's not made a single ally and probably won't have sponsors until they see her skills at work in the arena. But she's made an impression and as such you'll give her a good score."

With that said Chantilly merely stood there, moving her expressions just as stoic as ever. Staring down the Gamemakers. Finally, one shuddered and turned away. "Thank you, Miss Burnett. You're dismissed."

Chantilly turned on her heel and casually strolled to the elevator. She kept up the affect until she was back on her own floor where everyone was waiting with bated breath.

'Guess, we'll find out later if I impressed the Gamemakers or pissed them off.' She thought to herself with a smirk.

[prairiesongserial]

20.10

Friday was drawn down the hall to the dining room by the clamor of voices within. Unofficially, it seemed the less formal dining room on the lower deck had become the place to gather in the aftermath of the discovery of Clovis Girard’s body. It made sense: there was enough space for everyone, though only just barely, and the lower deck put a comfortable distance between the passengers and the brutal scene above.

Everyone was standing in clusters, stiff and suspicious or openly panicking. It was no wonder that Friday’s eyes immediately fell on the odd man out. In the back of the room, Val sat alone at a table. His eyes roved over the crowd, meeting hers only a few seconds after she spotted him. He didn’t get up, but he kept his gaze fixed on her as she crossed the room to him.

“Hi,” Friday said, sitting down on the other side of the table. She blinked in surprise–every few seconds, Val took a bite from a little porcelain cup of ice cream. “How are you eating right now?”

“I’m never drinking again,” Val said calmly, as if that explained anything. He carefully carved off another bite with the edge of his spoon. “Are you okay?”

Friday pulled the silver cufflink out of her pocket and put it on the table in front of Val.

“I’m looking for the pair to this,” she said. “We couldn’t find the other one in Clovis’s room. Plus all his jewelry was gold. This probably belongs to his killer.”

Val didn’t ask who “we” was. His spoon scraped the bottom of the cup of ice cream as he took the last bite.

“Do you want anything?” Val asked.

“No,” Friday said. “Have you seen anyone missing a cufflink?”

Val rose from the table and cut through the crowd. Friday tilted this way and that in her seat, trying to track him. If this had been John, she would have had a better idea of what the hell was going on. Was she supposed to follow, or what?

Friday finally lost track of him and gave up. He’d come back to talk, or he wouldn’t. In the meantime, she looked around the room, paying special attention to the cuffs of everyone’s sleeves.

Just when Friday had decided Val wasn’t coming back, he sat back down across from her. He had another cup of ice cream–and a steaming plate of French fries. He pushed the fries over to Friday. They smelled like the circus concessions–she didn’t know how Val could stand it.

“No thanks,” she said, shoving the fries back towards Val.

He leaned forward, catching her in his purple eyes. “Are you okay?”

Friday bit back the blasé reply that readily supplied itself–after what we’ve been through, what’s a little blood? It wouldn’t have been strictly honest.

“I’m moving all my shit back into our room,” she said–still not an answer. “The room Conti got me is too far away. I’d feel better…closer.” Closer to you was a little too hard to say considering that Val hadn’t been using their cabin as more than a changing room anyway.

“Hm,” Val said. “Good idea.”

Friday ran a hand down the back of her neck. Val was almost finished with his second cup of ice cream. 

“You’re going to make yourself sick,” she said, dragging the plate of French fries across the table. She ate one, then another. They were delicious.

“Depending on why Clovis was murdered, we might be in danger,” Friday said, a minute and several French fries later. Val had finished his ice cream and was clearly about to get up to get more, but he paused and waited for her to explain.

“Clovis wasn’t really rich. His stuff is all fake or repaired. Kind of like…” Friday took another fry and gestured with it, drawing it in a circuitous line through the air. The circle enclosed her, Val, and an implied John and Cody.

"There are plenty of reasons to murder him," Val said, clearly trying to be comforting.

Unfortunately, he was right. Clovis was an aggravating person with no friends on board. The fact that he'd boarded the ship under false pretenses was just the start. There were a good half dozen reasons he might have decided to sail on the Demeter. It was a way into Canada, but it was also a way out of Hemisphere's influence. Why not run from trouble in style, if you could get away with it?

Then again, Clovis might also have been here to make trouble. The Demeter would be a good place to rob the extremely wealthy if you knew what you were doing–maybe Clovis made a career out of it. Hell, he might be taking a salary for his spot on this cruise if someone else was paying him to investigate the bad habits of the rich and influential. And then there was the valet. The way Clovis treated Etienne, a man might just snap.

On the other hand, maybe Friday didn't have to worry about motivation. Nothing she could think up was a good enough reason to cut the man's head off.

"You're right," Friday said. She popped the fry in her mouth. "The beheading is probably nothing to worry about."

Val raised his gaze to hers, his eyebrows furrowing.

"I know what you meant," she added quickly. "I'm only teasing." 

Val got up from the table, his expression still severe–but at least it wasn't leveled on her. Friday sighed. She still hadn’t figured out how to talk to Val without pissing him off. It had only been a couple of days since Johannes died, but here she was trying to toy around with him like everything was normal.

Before she could dwell on it much further, her attention was drawn to a conversation a few feet away.

“--ridiculous that the captain hasn’t come out yet. We can’t possibly continue like nothing’s happened.”

That was Ernestine’s voice. She was anxiously twisting her pearls around her finger. Her husband, Aravind, silently received the stream of her thoughts. He was clearly only half-listening, his attention occupied by frequent glances around the crowd.

Though Friday didn’t like to admit it, Ernestine made a good point. The captain should be here. The first mate, too, but still there was no sign of Ms. Ecuyer. Almost like the killer had set things up that way.

Well, someone was steering the boat. If she only got one concrete answer tonight, she’d at least find out how long it would be before the captain made an emergency stop. Friday got up, slipping the silver cufflink back in her pocket.

*

Friday marched to the far end of the lower deck, blowing through several doors that were marked staff only. She found that she didn't need her new set of lockpicks–more than one of the doors had already been busted open by force.

Once she had passed the first broken-down door, she became suddenly aware of how dark and empty this part of the ship was. She grit her teeth and continued on.

The sound of her footsteps changed as she stepped from the solid floor to a metal grate. Friday slowed her pace. The wheelhouse was somewhere up ahead, she had figured that much out. She just didn't know what she would find there. Another murder scene? But in that case, who was captaining the ship?

All Friday had to do was follow the broken locks, and she found herself in a hall which ended in a different kind of door. You couldn’t kick this kind of lock in–the door itself was made of steel, and a giant mechanism of interlocking gears and bolts guaranteed it stayed closed.

Unlike the other rooms, this one had a window. It didn’t help much; it was almost as dark inside the wheelhouse as it was everywhere else. A panel of buttons and switches let off a vague, multi-colored glow that lent just enough light for her to discern a human figure sitting inside at the console.

Friday banged on the glass. The figure had clearly heard her–he hunched down in his seat with the posture of a child being scolded.

“I need to speak to the captain,” she yelled, and banged on the glass again.

The figure shook his head. Friday caught sight of a wiry white beard. She banged on the glass even harder.

“It’s an emergency,” she said. “We have to stop.” When she got no response she continued to strike the glass. “There’s been a murder. We can’t just keep going. How far are we from Canada?”

The question sounded wrong to her as she asked it. She should know what city in Canada they were headed for.

The man finally got up from his chair. He approached the glass, and Friday stepped back. She didn’t understand why she felt threatened. He was just an old man, but something in the round pearls of his eyes was making her uneasy.

“Two days out from shore,” he said in a heavy accent. “Now go away.”

“It’ll take two more days?” Friday blanched. She thought they would be closer. Her understanding was that the Demeter had been hugging the shoreline on their way north. How could they be so far away?

“I told you…You’re not the same girl,” he said.

“Another woman was here?” Friday asked.

“Hm,” the captain said, dismissing her question. “It’s about that time, anyway.” He turned away from the glass and started to walk back toward the glowing console. “You’re about to figure it out.”

Friday felt a chill run down her spine.

“Figure what out?”

The captain scratched his beard. “It doesn’t take this long to get to Quebec.”

Friday watched him sit back down.

“Isn’t this ship going to Canada?” she asked, feeling stupid. She tried to remember who among the other passengers had told her about their travel plans, whether any of them had actually mentioned Canada explicitly. But she knew she hadn’t misunderstood. The Demeter was supposed to go to Canada. All these French-speaking rich people were expecting native soil at the end of this trip.

“Can’t you…can’t you take us there anyway? There’s been a murder,” Friday said. She felt a little dizzy and leaned against the glass. Two days out from shore didn’t mean they’d be reaching a harbor in two days–it meant land was two days behind them.

“What about Ms. Ecuyer? When’s the last time you saw the first mate?” Friday banged on the glass again. “Hey! What happened to her?”

The captain didn’t acknowledge that she’d spoken.

20.9 || 20.11

[puddicure]

the previous post just turned into me gushing about scifi fashion design choices but really I just wanted to talk about some bold new aesthetics I came up with that I think we should try to explore:

- Meiji Cowboy: a new take on Meiji era fashion that blended “western” style clothing with Japanese clothing construction, but with more denim and fringe

- Choirpunk: it’s the dystopian future and now you have to DIY your punk clothes out of old clergy vestments. DIY “stained glass” style jewelry made from broken bottles and shit. Idfk. (I guess this one basically already exists via fetishwear, but I think there’s potential with the Flying Nun style habits. mostly I’m just looking for a reason to use church brocades lmfao)

- EGOL (‘elegant gothic office lady,’ a play on EGL (Elegant gothic Lolita); this one is sort of like corporate goth in spirit, but I want blazers with epaulettes, modern/futuristic fabrics with Victorian-style cuts and tailoring.)

- Gilliesuit Chic: I’m picturing like, jackets with arms from Gillie suits. Bell bottoms with the bell of the pant made of this disgusting fabric. Maybe just like as a shoulder accent. Like a capelet.

- Karneval Casual: more than anything, I’m thinking about those neon feathers and the fringe you see from Rio. Incorporate those shapes and textures into some dailywear. I feel like I don’t need to explain this one.

- Castaway Chic: a gown made out of an old parachute. Wearing one of those airplane floatation vests as fashion. Literal fish net top, maybe even wearing one as a fun little skirt. Those mesh water shoes, but extended into knee high boots. Divesuit under a crop top and cargo shorts. Fish lure jewelry. You could also call this “Waterworld chic.”

- Boilersuit Lolita: workman style coveralls made from Lolita designer print fabric, trimmed with bows and frills and lace. Heart belt buckle. Name tag patch with the brand name embroidered on it. Little white gloves with bows on them and a scalloped lace wrist. Sort of a metacommentary on the commodification of working-class aesthetics while also a jab at the fact Lolita is so incredibly impractical as a lifestyle fashion. IDK. is this anything.

- Powersuit Cyborg: a reboot of the classics. Bring back the big shoulder pad blazers, add circuit board prints to the linings. Maybe that puffer coat style ribbing as an accent. Microchip cuff links. Earrings made from old connector wires. Those big visor style sunglasses. Leather half gloves. Tuxedo stripe pants where the stripes look like rainbow ribbon cables. High heel loafers with a stacked CYM block heel. Bold lipstick. Teased hair.

[overheaven]

things i like

hearts and valentines and neon signs and cool eyebrows and animal prints and furry coats blankets rugs trims and statement earrings and jewelry that jingles and chokers and ostentatious shoes and pleaser heels and anime figures and bags with too many pins on them and blue hair and mascara and roses and skeletons and the look of raw steaks and circuit boards and broken wires and biopunk and milk and milk jugs made into makeshift sharps containers and coffee in the morning whenever morning is for you and caution signs and lightning and tattoos and shitty tattoos and piercings and split tongues and gold fang grills and tooth gaps and rings and trouser socks and shirts with the sleeves cut off and feeling sexy and cool when i smoke and my cigarette burns and absinthe and irish whiskey and scented candles and anise and frankincense