#it's bound with thread from a sewing kit and staples

[necrobividity]

made myself a new artbook out of old aldi bags. hoping to make some art that's as fun and experimental as the book itself

[elsewhereuniversity]

Look I'm not saying I have a *plan* for the crazed sewing kit per se but I *am* saying that for some godforsaken reason this year I'm head of the theatre costumes crew. and the makeup crew. and the house crew. Last week I glued a fake nose to a distraught actor's face while helping my ticket person count stubs *and* stapled one of the usher's broken clip-on to their collar during an already frantic costume change. So I'm probably crazed enough to not notice more and I could USE the damn thing

You know what? It’s yours. For better or for worse! (And from the offer, I think it could go either way). I will of course start gathering a new one, and I wish you the dubious joy of this one. Take with my blessing (hidden below cut because the kit grew wildly):

A silver thimble that fluctuates wildly in temperature, and can protect you from small injuries from anything short of a sword. Almost certainly has some other, more subtle effects, which are up to you to discover.

Absolutely vile shears made of giant’s toenails; despite my personal disdain for them, they are razor-sharp, and keep to the line you mean to cut as if magnetized.

Heirloom scissors that whisper inanities

Fabric scissors from a tailor of the Spring Court, most notable for the ease with which they cut silk, but which also seem to be able to slice through a variety of other metaphysical and metaphorical things.

A needle threader: unbendable, unbreakable, and which never misses - although its eye is a miniature portal to another place entirely, which can be unsettling to the unaware.

A needle that both threads and unthreads itself, seemingly at will and at random. It remains to be seen if the above threader is able to mitigate this.

A set of needles that cannot pierce flesh, yet pass through all mortal cloth with ease (no guarantees for stranger stuff such as cloth-of-moonlight).

A golden needle and golden thread, a perfectly matched set that should stay together at all costs. The needle will always bear the perfect length of thread for hand-stitching; although the thread is taken from the spool, it is not through any means one can see.

A needle that will only allow itself to be threaded with human hair, at which point it gets ‘enthusiastic’.

A needle of uncertain purpose and effect: in the hands of a new owner it is prethreaded with an undiminishing length of periwinkle-lime-fuchsia thread. However, it appears that upon drawing first blood, it immediately begins to turn every project into dire warnings embroidered in rust-red calligraphic font, and this  seems to remain in effect until it is given up.

A spool of scarlet thread, vibrant with luck; looped and tied around another, they’ll be bound to you in more ways than one.

A spool of tendons, stolen from the body of the one sewing as they work. Replenished at the same time, to be fair, but it is nevertheless an unpleasant experience.

Several spools of colorless thread which pick up shades like the eyedropper tool. Unfortunately finite, but lovely.

Synchronizing nicely with the thread above, three skeins of yarn in exactly the color you want it to be as you use it.

A spool of thread that will not be cut by normal means; I have not had the chance to see how it measures up against the above shears, or the next item.

A seam ripper that can slice through any seam, up to an including those of the fabric of time itself, along with a thimble that protects from its vary particular blade. Particularly in the context of your job, this one will be interesting in your hands.

Three bolts of shimmering fabric: one of cloth-of-sunlight, one of cloth-of-starlight, and one of cloth-of-moonlight

A round, plain tin, full of buttons that will never fall off or unbutton themselves, although they are tacky beyond words, and several are coated with contact poison (I have taken the liberty of tucking these few apart. They melted the initial plastic bag, so now they are folded up in a bit of linen, which seems to be working nicely).

A small tin of bandaids of assorted sizes, which when stuck to fabric allow the damaged area below to knit itself back together like flesh, until it is whole and unharmed once more.

A pincushion in the shape of a mouse. Pins and needles left in its care will remain always sharp and clean, but be warned that the more pins it possessed, the more jealously it guards them, and at a certain saturation point it will demand recompense if you wish to borrow any at all.

A bobbin that is either the result of a failed attempt to make it neverending, or simply cursed out of spite to merely appear as such. Either way, you can’t trust your eyes: it will look for all the world like there is thread to spare and then some, even when it has been empty for hours.

A jar full of more beads than it should rightfully be able to hold, in colors that seem to vary depending on who is beholding them. There seem to be roughly a dozen colors, although it’s hard to pin down exactly. For my part they are the greys and greens you find around the necks of pigeons.