#so the print just wouldn't have any texture!

[tafadhali]

Saw a piece of art today that I loved and it is POSSIBLE to get a print but the print is already more expensive than any of my other art, so kind of contemplating buying the far more expensive original just because

[saradika]

— WASTELAND, BABY

part i. the fear and the fire of the end of the world

[masterlist]

boba fett x f!reader

rated E - 3.4k

tags: fallout au, post-apocalyptic, canon-typical themes, canon-typical violence & death, mentions and use of guns/weapons, death of people and animals, sort of slow-burn

a/n: I’m so excited to share this series with you! Reader is new to the world, so much will be explained (game knowledge not required to enjoy!)

The year is 2297, and your days in Vault 113 are spent among the pages of your books - of fairytale romance, of noble knights and handsome princes. That is, until you venture from your Vault, and are immediately thrust into the harsh and cruel world of the Wasteland.

And when you find yourself being rescued by a man in armor - you can’t help but wonder if those beloved stories might just have come true.

You still dream about the sleep.

In shades of sepia, the perfect days that never seemed to end. That always seemed to be just a little bit familiar, like you had taken each exact step before.

The idyllic neighborhood, slow jazzy notes floating in from open windows. Cars that rolled down the street until they were out of sight, always at the same time. Perfectly behaved dogs, in their neat, square yards.

Now - now that you're out - you don't know why it took you so long to notice.

Maybe you didn't care. Were content to play through that single, perfect day. To ignore - at first - the glitches. The fuzzy part of your brain that said that something wasn't quite right.

The itching memory, that something bad was going to happen. Something you had picked at, until it was raw and aching and oozing.

You wonder if that is why you woke up. That something in your brain triggered the stasis - the reason why on that morning, your eyes opened to shades of green and grey.

A dome of glass overhead, a sick pneumatic hiss when you hand flattened against it. The mask you tore from your mouth and nose as you were born onto the tiled floor, shivering and confused.

It had all come back to you.

The blaring of the siren.

The man, ushering your family into the vault.

The promise, whispered with clasped hands.

It will all be okay.

We'll be together, don't worry.

Climbing into the pod, the slow sleep that came after. Waking up, in your old life.

Never waking up that way, again.

You had sat in silence, for hours. Unsure of what to do, where to even start.

Freezing in place when there was a whirr, the sound of movement - as a robotic being rolling into the room, checking the readouts on the large display.

With thick treaded tires, and a sleek, domed head. A mass that looked like a brain floated inside with one large, fixed mechanical eye. It churned your stomach, as it chirped at you.

You are 1825 days ahead of schedule. Please return to your tranquility lounger.

The pod wouldn't let you back in, though you had tried. The red button pushed flat, the screen unresponsive. Leaving you alone and helpless as you looked at the circle of others.

Of your family and neighbors and friends, still in their perfect dreamland.

You lingered there, a while longer. Too afraid of what was beyond its safe walls. Only nudged into moving when the cramp of hunger became unbearable, until you couldn't take the repeating, robotic lines any longer.

Metal doors had opened into other rooms. Empty and sterile and shades of grey steel. Bits of your memory came back - the hallways you ran through. Glimpses of what lied in them, in your rush to the pods.

Eventually, you found a mess hall. Twin machines lined the walls - white with cherry red accents, rows of cafeteria-style tables in front of them. They were still humming with life when you approached, reading the lettering across the top in blocky, silver print.

VAULT-TEC FOOD SYNTHESIZER

The press of a button dispensed thick, pink paste onto the metal tray beneath. It felt like mush in your mouth, the vaguest flavor of something, but not enough to mask the unpleasant texture.

But, much like everything now - the loneliness, the isolation - you learned to bear it.

There are some things you found, in the days that came after, that were not quite so horrible.

A room full of beds, where you tested each one to find the best. Stripping the pillows and blankets, until yours was as close to cozy as you could get.

There was a device you found, in a room full of bubble-screen computers, with their black screens and green, blinking text. It sat half-out of its box on one of the tables, and you were unable to resist removing it from its casing.

A screen sat in the middle, on top of a thick, leather strap. A booklet fell out - the pages now dog-eared and crinkled from the amount of times you read it. The first lines still seared in your memory.

If you're reading this, a scorching wave of atomic fire has likely turned the surface into a wretched husk of its former self... which means your Vault has been activated! You now have in your own hands one of America's finest, easiest-to-use personal-computational tools: the Pip-Boy.

It becomes one of your prized possessions.

Sitting heavy on your wrist, an endless supply of screens and dials that entertained you for hours. Readouts and documents and even simple, chirping games to fill the empty hours with.

The other thing you came to cherish most was the library.

Well, you called it that - though it barely compared to the ones in your memory. It was a small room - a pair of plastic chairs, beneath a thick, metal shelf lined with books of all shapes and sizes.

You'd read them all, in the months you stayed there. Even ones that made your eyes burn with their dryness; Dean's Mechanics, Infiltration Techniques Vol. 2, Pugilist Quarterly.

Fingering tracing over the thin pages, trying to make sense of things you had never heard of before.

But your favorite were the fairy tales. Just four books, among the two dozen.

Grimm and Perrault. Andersen and Lang.

Their books thick and illustrated, the spines and covers stamped with gold.

The romances were the ones you visited, again and again. Younger you would have loved the macabre - evil witches, plucked out eyes, soul-wrenching betrayal.

But in this new world, you couldn't bear it.

You got lost in the pages. The girl who fell in love with the Beast, who was not so monstrous after all. Another, who risked everything to dance with the Prince, only to abandon him at midnight when the spell was broken.

When you grew bored, you created your own tales. Princesses that were swept off their feet. Knight fighting dragons, a fluttering in your chest when you thought about the romance.

The twisting and twining of limbs and tongues, the slow build that lead into soft, contented sighs.

They became your comfort, as the days passed.

So similar - in ways - to the ones when you had been asleep. The same routines. Paste, read, sleep.

The same clothes - the blue and gold jumpsuit you had woken up in. That the others wore as well, in their sleep. Each one the same, with the vault’s number emblazoned across the back.

On your Pip Boy you read it was to protect you from the elements outside - but here, it only added to the monotony of your day.

Every variation of an afternoon you had done at least once. Poking into every corner of each room. Fingers tracing over the glass screen of the pods, watching your family sleep.

Reading the books again, and again. Using the bits you picked up to learn more about your Vault, what had happened.

It took you a solid month to key into the computer terminal in the main office. Clicking on different words in the scramble of letters that poured across the screen, trying to crack the password protection.

Getting frustrated and giving up - only to come back again the next day.

Finally, the beep as you were let in. Clicking through the files, piecing together a mess of text that was scattered across numerous logs over the years.

That you were in Vault 113. That it was created in partnership with several more, and a copy of the previous, 112.

That some of the Vaults were created to be an experiment. A test to see how humanity would fare, released in key waves after the Great War of 2077.

Held in a cryosleep stasis - the first to be opened at 25 years, and then at 50. Continuing every quarter-century until 225 years has passed. Ending with your vault, scheduled to be released last.

The dread settles in as you started to understand what they had meant when you woke up.

That you were early.

That all you can do is wait.

You don’t even know where you’d even start - no idea if they would fare as well as you did, to be woken up ahead of schedule.

And so, the days ticked by. The marks you scratched on the wall next to your bed slowly increasing. One for each morning you woke up, until there's 182 of them lined up in neat rows.

Finally - coming to the realization that had been nudging at you for days, for weeks. The one that had been keeping you up at night, though you wished for the unconsciousness of sleep.

That you can't sit around for 4 and a half more years, just waiting. That wasn't a life, any way to live.

That you'd go mad, talking to your Pip-Boy, the robots that only had a few lines of verbal programming.

You had to know, to see. To go out.

Into the world. Alone.

You'd watched the videos.

The short animated films. The cartoon boy with the vault suit like yours, as he explained life after the fallout. How it would be different - tips on survival, how to keep sharp, how to use your own experiences and talents to your advantage.

It helped, giving you an idea of what to expect, but you hated them. The little acronyms, the cheesy animation - they seemed to mock the massive loss from nuclear annihilation.

The grainy, black-and-white recordings you find, after.

Prepared and left by the Overseer that no longer stayed there - who passed on the responsibility to the robobrains that still stood watch, when another Vault position opened.

They had made you weep, to think about what happened. Until you chest ached and your eyes stung. You couldn’t watch some parts, thinking about all those who had not been able to get away. Unable to help wondering about your extended family - your friends.

But it still hadn't prepared you for how vast and cruel the Wasteland was.

It had taken you another two weeks to actually open the Vault door. Dragging your feet as you collected supplies. Trying to pack everything you'd need while also trying to leave plenty in case someone else woke as you did.

Canteens of water, extra vault suits. The pink mush spooned into glass jars, clinking in your backpack, as you checked the space another time.

Leaving a note on the terminal, where you hope they'd find it.

But eventually, you had to try. You'd stalled long enough.

And so, after marking the Vault’s location on your Pip-Boy - you left.

You’ve been out for a week now. That alone feels like an accomplishment.

Not expecting how barren the world would feel, even with the preparation. It mirrors the muted browns from your dreams, though there's no hazy edges here.

Just a broken landscape of trees - still standing, stripped bare and bleached by an unforgiving sun. Crumbling roads, and what little grass endured was burnt and brittle. The air dry and thick in your lungs with the dust that kicked up, as you had carefully left the vault.

Misfortune had befell you almost immediately.

Barely out of the crumpled building that held the Vault, down the worn asphalt path, when there had been a scuttling sound. Fear and bile in your throat when a roach the size of a cat crept from the ruins, poised to spring.

Unable to do more than to grasp at the ground, fingers wrapping around a solid bit of wood. You can still hear the crunch of collision when you close your eyes, before you took off running, not wanting to see the aftermath.

The petrified branch still sits by the door, just in case.

In the half-standing farmhouse you've set up base in, until you're brave enough to wander further. That has been unnerving as well - seeing places that were different from your memories.

You had gone home, first.

It had seemed natural, though the fear lingered in your stomach, making your steps heavy. Following the road for three miles, all the while trying to force the puzzle pieces to fit. Broken bridges over dead streams, street signs that lead to crumbling, empty lots.

The road you lived on had been hit hard. It had ached - nothing left but the skeletons of your life before. Tumbling brick and rotting plaster. Chipped tile and broken floors, creaking under your feet as you stood where the kitchen once was. Must like your life before, it was just - gone.

The sentimental part of you had rooted around. Finding a rusting, red bottle cap in the ruins. A silver spoon found in the shattered remains of the counter where you grew up baking cookies.

You took them both, tucking them into your bag.

The farm you had found next, late the first night. You had been there before as a child.

The owners opened their property for apple-picking, hayrides, bonfires with sweet, melting smores. It had been a memory you had forgotten, until the bit of still-standing roof appeared on the horizon, beckoning you to it.

You'd do anything to have more of them. The memories.

The owners are gone now, as is the orchard. Just rows of thin trunks left, the branches dead and brittle.

With the wasteland around you - so very different from the safe, metal walls, the honeycomb of simple rooms - you wish you had stayed.

But much like waking up, you knew you couldn't. That you couldn't undo what happened, or forget the things that haunt you now.

Now - you spend your days wandering out. Poking around the barn to see if there's anything to take with you.

Finding a bit of joy, in some small moments.

In your books, as they soothe you to sleep. The stories are long-memorized but still bringing such comfort.

In the funny, two-head cow that had half-scared you to death when you first found it - that you know think is sort of cute. Almost poetic, in a way.

She wanders the fields behind the barn, and sometimes you go out to sit with her - keeping watch from a distance.

In your Pip-Boy, with the radio that hums out tinny tunes throughout the day - there's only a few of them it picks up, the songs on loop.

Picking through the holotapes of data - finding out that your new friend is called a Brahmin, mutated after years of radiation. It’s not much, but it's something.

It gives you hope that there might be someone else out there. It gives you the strength to think about moving on.

And you do find them - a semblance of civilization - but not in the way you hope.

You’re sleeping when it happens. Curled up in a bedroom on the second story, trying to avoid the holes that litter the hardwood floors.

It’s barely morning, the sunrise a weak, watery yellow as it peeks over the ridge. Though with a start you realize it’s not the light that has woken you. That rarely made a difference, after your time in the Vault.

Too afraid of the dark to turn off the light.

It’s the bellowing.

At first, you don’t know why it makes your skin prickle. After all, Minnie made those sounds when she first saw you - snorting and pawing at the packed earth, both sets of eyes dark and wide. Slowly settling, in the hours after - when all you did was watch from behind the fence.

The pieces click into place.

There was something out there.

You’re just getting up to look, when you hear a wild shout. The sound echoing, followed by a sharp, echoing crack.

The bellowing stops.

Your gasp is loud in the silence. Hand pressing over your mouth as your heart thuds in your chest - aching. The floor beneath you creaking as sink down onto it, trying to make yourself small.

But the voices move closer. Different tones overlapping, arguing - from the open field, then to the barn.

Then, to the house.

Your breath in your throat as the front door bangs open, a sharp voice cracking through the air.

“-lay off the fuckin’ Jet, mate. You’re fuckin’ paranoid as hell.”

The floor creaking as they move through the living room. An annoyed grunt, the rattle as something metallic clatters to the floor, making your stomach flip.

“Told you man, I heard somethin’,” Another voice answers.

Your heart drums so loudly in your ears, you’re certain it has to be audible. Tucked underneath the window, in clear view of the staircase.

If you don’t move, they’ll see you. You’re certain of it. The videos had warned you of the lawlessness, but nothing could have compared you for the fear that paralyzes you.

But, you try to be brave. Three feet to the right and you should be safe - your heart in your throat as you shift your weight, to move just out of sight.

The floor groans.

The voices downstairs stop.

You bolt.

Feet like lead, disconnected from your brain as you make for the stairs - thinking you can make it out. Skipping steps at a time, hoping that you won’t fall and break your neck. Ankles aching as you hit the bottom, sights set on the door the left open.

Almost making it out, when there’s a shout. A sharp “fuckin’ knew it” that sounds entirely too close. A gloved hand that reaches out, snagging your elbow.

Sending you off balance, slamming into the brittle wall. Pain radiates from your hip, the wood splintering from the collision. The hand closing around your ankle, yanking you hard.

The man pulls again - dragging you to the side, through the open doorway.

You’re gasping for breath, trying to yell - though nothing comes out. The air knocked from your lungs as you’re tugged across the porch, one of the steps cracking against your head as you try to grasp onto the railing.

It splinters under your grip, one of the spindles breaking free. He lets go when you reach the bottom, calling up to the second that lingers in the doorway.

“Check inside. See if there’s any more.”

A foot pressing against your shoulder, pinning you to the ground as he leans down, barking out a harsh laugh.

“Thought you could hide?”

He’s even more terrifying up close. Dark paint smeared around his eyes, dripping down his cheeks like tears. Dressed in a mismatch of leather clothes, nails driven up through the fabric at the collar. A spiked shoulder pad made from bent metal, the sharp edges a deep, rusted red.

You take a deep breath… and then swing.

The makeshift weapon collides with the side of his head, and then shatters. With a loud yell he stumbles, and you scramble - pushing yourself onto shaking knees, and then feet.

“Goddamn bitch,” He snarls, and there’s footsteps from the house, calls coming from the barn.

You don’t make it to your feet before you’re looking down the barrel of a gun. Fear and a strangled whimper in your throat as you hover in a half-crouch, hands coming up to shield your face.

A shot fires.

There’s a bright red light that sears through your closed eyelids, the smell of something burning. You open them just in time to see the man pitch to the side, his body glowing with a heat you can feel. Disintegrating as you watch, turning to ash before he hits the ground.

You can barely hear the yell from the others, the sound of your heartbeat drowning the world out. Faintly aware of one cracking shot, and then another, a deep reverb echoing across the flat plane.

Rocks skittering on the ground around you, the tremor of heavy steps and sharp mechanical hisses. Loud cries and shots traded as you cower, unable to look away from the scorched earth where a person just was.

And then, everything goes quiet.

A shadow falls across you, and you’re looking up. Seeing the figure that’s crumpled against the stairs. The unmoving peppering of bodies littering the ground, out near the barn. Never making it any further.

Up, and then up - to where a giant suit of armor towers over you. Painted in shades of green that you thought you had forgotten. A long rifle tucked in the crook of its thick arm, the end a hot, steaming red.

It’s head tilts - as a low, mechanical voice breaks through the silence.

“Its dangerous to wander the wasteland alone, ad’ika.”

ad’ika - little one

thank you for reading! 💚 part ii will be out thursday, the 9th! and if you’d like to get tagged, please fill out the series taglist here!

(0-pressure tagging some friends that liked the sneak peek 💕: @spaceydragons, @luladoll, @obiknights , @wingofshadow , @bobathirstaccount, @reluctant-mandalore, @ohheyitsokay, @floral-force , @valentine-tx, @dreamlandcreations, @vellichormybeloved)

[rebeccawangart]

artist ask game: 1, 7, 16, 17!

Thank you so much @thelettersfromnoone!!! 🥺

1. When did you start creating art? So this kind of has multiple answers depending on how you define "creating art". I literally have been drawing since i could hold a pencil. I still have drawings that I made in kindergarten class believe it or not! But I started drawing "seriously" I suppose around 2006? That was when I started experimenting with colors and styles, and made several drawings which were my flagship artworks to put in my online stores and sell as prints. All the art I created before that was just practicing animal drawings based on photographs; these new ones were 100% all original creations. Then in 2017 I started doing pet portraits for commissions. So I suppose technically that marks the beginning of my real professional art career.

7. Who are some artists that have inspired you? Oh so many! I have many contemporaries who inspire me! I don't even know if I could honestly name them all here. Some notable psychedelic artists include Alex Grey, Neil Gibson, Fabian Jimenez, and Adrianna Tamar Arachne. Contemporary realist artists include Jel Ena, Esther Van Hulsen, Becky Kidus, Louise Goalby, David Stribbling, Chiakiro, Paul Miller, Mark McKenna, and just so, so many more I could never name them all. I follow hundreds of amazing artists on Instagram and I am constantly amazed by their skills and inspired by their art. I also am inspired by classical artists, especially Art Nouveau.

16. What was something you used to struggle to draw with confidence/ease, but have now mastered? I wouldn't say I mastered it but people! I used to struggle with people, and was intimidated by them. But since I have started drawing Aldhelm, and other characters from The Last Kingdom, I have improved leaps and bounds, and gotten a lot more comfortable with novel textures like cloth, hair (human hair and beards), metal (especially chainmail), leather, stone, and many other things. But especially skin texture and colors.

17. Your personal favorite works of art (not made by you) are...? Oh my goodness I honestly could not choose a single one. Any one of the amazing works by the people listed in 7 to be honest. Please check out their Instagrams and websites. They are amazing artists!

🖌️ARTIST ASK GAME🎨

[spectralfaun]

I kept neglecting to post this for some reason. Anxiety kept telling me the post wouldn't perform well, or that the timing wasn't right, and I didn't have enough progress footage for a reel, so what's the point. I'm tired of listening to those voices, so I'm just going to post it!! The only way to get my work out there for y'all to see is to post it, right?? Sometimes I feel so silly for overthinking all of this social media stuff...

But at any rate, here's the finished product of the Twilight Kiss piece, inspired heavily by Gustav Klimt's The Kiss!!

I really love how this turned out! The colors and textures were so much fun to paint!! I'll be adding it to my shop to buy as a print! 😊

[dawnthread]

Hi!! I’m just getting into knitting things like garments (I’ve only really done little things like scarves or hats or toys) so I don’t really understand what blocking is? Or why to do it?

oh, yeah, okay!!

first of all, congratulations on getting into knitting, i hope you're having a ton of fun with it!

second of all, my local yarn shop has a whole article about blocking basics, which is super helpful, but i'll give you my spin on it too

so there's a couple different methods of blocking, but the one i use the most is called "wet blocking," which is where you soak your thing in lukewarm water (with a bit of no-rinse-needed wool wash like Eucalan or Soak, if you have any!) for a while, squeeze it out gently until it's still heavily damp but not dripping, and lay it on a mat to stretch it out and pin it in place to dry like that. this is the method that gives you the most dramatic change in both shape and fabric density, because soaking the knit relaxes the fibers in the yarn and lets you really haul away at it to open up the design, and that's important for lace knitting because basically all lace just looks like a sad yarn lump when it's fresh off the needles. when you block it, though...

this was a past project i finished - see how much nicer that looks?

for lace (and cabling, to a different extent), the way your fabric tensions itself as you do all the texture work makes it scrunch up weirdly, and blocking it is how you get it to smooth itself out and look pretty. for lace, it means you can also get some dramatic shaping going on at the edges that you wouldn't have been able to see otherwise, like those pointy curves in the one up above, or the little bats in this other one!

it's also important for doing fitted garments like sweaters, because it gives you more control over how big the fabric you're making is actually, ultimately going to be.

it's a great safety check against a sweater getting awkwardly stretched out in the wash, because if you knit a test swatch and block it, you get a preview of how the fabric is going to behave later, and use that to inform your sizing choices now. it can also give you some wiggle room on a pattern gauge that you can't quite match with the yarn/needles you're using! if you're trying to do a sweater and your gauge is just a little bit smaller than what they say will give you your pattern size, try blocking a swatch and seeing what it looks like when you stretch it to match the pattern gauge.

if you're doing anything with seams, i would also strongly recommend blocking the pieces before you seam them together! it makes it a hell of a lot easier to get at the selvedge stitch when you start sewing, and it also lets you ensure that all your pieces are the exact size you want them to be before you put them all together. especially if you're knitting with wool (and i think other animal fibers like alpaca?) and you use steam blocking, like they said in the article - that will physically change the shape of the fibers and lock your piece in place at the exact size you want it to be.

i would also recommend getting some blocking mats to do it on? you can just pin it to a towel, it's what i used to do, but believe me, it's SO much easier with a set of blocking mats. you can see how they have those gridlines marked on them, right? that helps you keep track of how your work is lining up with itself, and whether one side is proportionally the same as the other side! it's not crucial, but it's definitely a quality-of-life upgrade.

i have three sets of the hephaestus crafts ones, they come with a box of pins, a tape measure, and nine interlocking foam squares with a 1" grid printed on them that you can set up however you want. they cost about $30, and i've been pretty happy with them, even if one of them did come with the gridlines printed on the wrong side ;P

anyway, i hope this answered your question!! tl;dr,

[duchessofostergotlands]

Hi, sorry to bother you, I kinda need some cat owner advice. I can't find it now through any of your blog's search functions (or I wouldn't have asked directly) but I seem to remember your cat had chin acne problems? Mine does too and I was wondering if you can share tips/solutions from your experience. Thank you so much! If I'm misremembering or confusing you with someone else please feel free to ignore this! Have a nice day!

Hey :) Sorry it took me a little while to get to this. You are correct about the cat acne problem being me, and I'm very impressed by your memory! I barely remembered what happened this morning.

So first thing I did was get gel off Amazon. It had good reviews - it's called Anicura. But the problem is that it's got a very strong apple vinegar smell and cats are both very sensitive to smells and (usually) very opposed to being wet or sticky or any being exposed to any unexpected textures. So my cat learned pretty quickly that when he smells the horrible apple vinegar smell, it means he's about to get the wet liquid on his chin and he ran away and hid. So yeah, that didn't last very long and I don't know how much it helped.

One thing I think helped was a new bowl. I read that a cat's skin is more sensitive to plastic and there are sneaky bowls that look like metal but are actually plastic so I got one made out of stone. Also the usual shape you get for cheaper bowls is apparently not very good for them, it should be a wider dish rather than a bowl. Like this one: https://www.petsathome.com/shop/en/pets/beco-printed-ocean-waves-cat-bowl. I got Ru a new bowl and that definitely helped him.

The last thing I did - and I have no idea if this is what's recommended or not - is to interrupt his behaviour. I don't know if you've experienced this but sometimes if I'm a little cold and start shivering/my teeth start chattering, I get caught up and can't stop even if I'm not actually cold anymore. I need something to snap me out of it. Or like when you jiggle your leg if you're nervous but don't realise until someone points it out. When my cat started scratching I just interrupted him when he got carried away. I did something weird or draped a blanket over him or made a loud noise. It took him out of the compulsive scratching and distracted him, and so because he wasn't scratching as much it gave it time to heal. I think those little behavioural things are probably cat dependent, they might not always work, but worth trying to find out if there's something specific that irritates your cat.

Hope that helps!

[logosbot-tm-fics]

Think this is the quickest update ever on this fic-

I-

Welp...enjoy!

Take My Tea With Formaldehyde

[Start] [<Previous] [Next>]

Chapter 13: Let Me Be The Void

(More beneath the cut)

Eventually, Iskall announced that they had to leave. It was slowly getting dark outside, they said, it’d be better to head home whilst there was still some light out. 

If Mumbo was a little more honest with himself, if he was just a little braver, then perhaps he would've asked them to stay. Their presence had been very comforting, something to grasp onto and hold tight… he was scared that he'd dig himself into a hole if he was left alone. It felt like a risk, one that just wasn’t worth taking.

So he didn’t say anything, he didn’t do anything to stop them.

Instead, Mumbo just nodded in response and helped them clear the table. It was silent as the two of them did the dishes, passing plates and cutlery between themselves without a word. 

It went fairly quickly, and soon enough Iskall stood in the entrance with their coat on. They hugged, said their goodnights, and just as Iskall was about to step through the door, they gasped. They turned around quickly to face Mumbo, a slightly awkward expression on their face.

"I forgot, but I've had these in my pocket for a little while..." They said, rummaging around in their coat for a moment before fishing some keys out of their pocket. 

Mumbo recognised the keys instantly.

They were… they were the spare set that Mumbo had given Grian almost a year ago, now. He put out his hand slowly, letting Iskall pass them over without a word. Mumbo cradled the keys gently, as if they were something precious or delicate, and Iskall graciously didn’t say a word about the strangled expression he was sure had made its way onto his face. 

The keys were heavily decorated, a handful of accessories and keyrings splayed out across the palm of his hand as he looked them over. 

It was the small, pink, metal locket that caught Mumbo’s eyes first, glinting in the low, artificial light of the hallway. Gently, with shaky fingers, Mumbo slid his thumb nail into the clasp, clicking it open to reveal a photo of him and Grian stood side by side. Grian had his arm slung over Mumbo’s shoulder, and they looked to be in their late teens – it was familiar, and Mumbo knew that he had seen it recently. In fact, didn’t he have this exact same photo?

His mind went back to the box in his attic for a moment, the one that he knew he would be able to see the instant that he entered the room, the one that he knew contained—

He closed the locket quickly, trying to suppress the flinch that ran through him at the clicking noise it made as the clasp settled back into place. He could hear Iskall shuffle forward an inch at his movement, and for a moment the silence was heavier than it had been before.

Mumbo refocused back on the keys in his hand, raising his other to card through the various keychains as he tried to ignore Iskall’s slight, worried sigh.

The next his eyes caught on was a ‘G’, cheap looking and studded with fake rhinestones. Mumbo huffed a short laugh at the sight – it looked like the sort of thing that Grian would call tacky and proceed to treasure for the rest of his life. Mumbo wondered when he had gotten it, if it had been a gift, what had made him like it so much.

He moved on.

A fake feather hung from the keys next, it seemed to be made of silicone, something flexible and textured. It was coloured in the same way that a tropical parrot’s might be, a pattern of red, blue and yellow printed on it.

Next to it, hung a small metal microphone. Another keyring that he was sure he had never seen before.

Distantly, Mumbo wondered why he had never seen any of these things before. Why he was only seeing them now, after everything was said and done.

Really, the only reason he even recognised the key as his own was because of the leather tag mixed in with all the rest, labelled "spare key". He had put on it years ago, just so he wouldn't mix it up with his own. 

He stared down at it for another long moment before Iskall finally cleared their throat, breaking the silence.

"He asked me to give it to you," Iskall said slowly, as if testing the waters, measuring how Mumbo would react. "I've had it for a little while." 

Mumbo only nodded, unsure of what to feel. Everything was just… weird. 

Though, he supposed that did explain why Iskall had suddenly gained the ability to enter Mumbo's apartment, which he perhaps should've noticed earlier. 

"Thanks," Mumbo said eventually, the words slow and measured as he put the keychain into his own pocket. He gave Iskall a slightly strained smile. "I’ll… see you soon?" He asked. 

It felt like his tongue was too big, like every word was lolling and uncontrolled. Weird. 

"Yeah, you can’t get rid of me that easily,” they smiled back, something melancholy and small. "Bye, Mumbo." 

They waved slightly, awkwardly, and then turned to walk away down the corridor. 

"Bye," Mumbo heard himself say, shutting the door with a gentle grasp. 

Mumbo walked into his living room distantly, flopping down on the grey couch. 

The keychain felt heavy in his pocket, something stark and unquestionable, and he couldn't stand the idea of having it on him for any longer. 

So he pulled it out, somewhat surprised that it wasn’t molten to the touch, studying it again. 

It felt weirdly personal as he turned it over carefully in his palms. Like he was holding a piece of Grian's personality in his hands, a piece of his history. Like if he looked at it properly, if he looked at it closely enough, Mumbo would somehow understand him better. 

He didn't know what to look for, he didn’t know how to distinguish between what was important and what was just decoration.  

So instead, he focused his attention on questioning why it had been given to him. Why did he have it? Why exactly did Grian decide to give it back? At what point had he decided he should give it back? 

After all, Iskall said that they had had it for a while.

Had Grian given it back because he had felt bad about being able to walk into the apartment at random? Did he feel as if he shouldn't have it anymore because it gave him direct access to Mumbo? Or did he give it back as a way to show that their friendship was over? 

Mumbo hoped that it was one of the former. God, he hoped that it was the former.

The idea that Grian handed it over to Iskall – not even bothering to give it to Mumbo himself – as a way to tell him their friendship was over for good… well. Mumbo sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case. It would make everything feel like an absolute waste of time.

For a second, Mumbo thought about putting the keys into the box in the attic; hiding them away with the rest of the Grian-related stuff, but... 

For some reason he didn't want to. 

It felt wrong. So wrong that he was sure he would start crying if he even tried. 

He sighed wearily, pulling himself up from the couch to pace around the living room. He needed to move, to keep himself busy, because… he really didn’t know what to do with the keychain. It didn't feel right to keep using it as spare keys.

So instead, he just put the keys on the top of a small table standing in his hall. Coincidentally, in the same spot where a photo of them used to be. Where a photo of them had been for years. 

Ever since Mumbo had moved in. 

He shook his head wildly, as if it would clear it of all the pressing questions. 

He needed a distraction, he needed answers, he needed–

He needed some tea.

~

Getting tea wasn’t as automatic as it used to be, anymore.

Once, Mumbo had been able to carry out the whole process mindlessly, without a single mistake or stutter. Once, he had been able to make tea as easily as breathing, preparing multiple different blends at once for his friends waiting in the other room.

Now, his movements were shaky as he poured the boiling water into the dark blue, ceramic teapot. Now, he didn’t really like the feeling of being in the kitchen alone. Now, he tried his best to avoid it, to avoid the things that he had steadily begun to associate with it.

But–

He wanted tea. 

Tea felt comforting, familiar, it was something stable and unchanging and he knew that he needed it. He knew that he needed something like that, something kind and routine. He knew that he had been missing it lately, especially since he had tried to hide away everything else in his apartment that truly provided him with joy, with contentment.

Tea felt comforting, even if the teapot was making him think of a birthday, many years ago now, when Gri–

He shook his head. No point in thinking of other things. Focus. 

Set the timer. 

Take out a mug. 

Grian had given him the teapot, once upon a time. It felt like a faraway memory now, like something from a time long past, but really Mumbo had only been living in the flat for a few months by that point. He hadn’t had the time to go and buy one, so Grian showed up on his doorstep with a gorgeous, delicate teapot.

Mumbo remembered what he had said in that moment. He remembered the exact lilting of his tone, the different inflections and emphasis.

“Honestly,” he had said, “It’s frustrating me that you don’t have one, and I don’t even live here.” He had paused to laugh, fondness seeping into his words as he continued, “So I bought one.”

Mumbo shook his head again, blinking frantically as he tried to clear his mind. He didn’t want to be thinking about him, he didn’t. He didn’t. 

Maybe it was the fact that he was making tea, maybe it was the fact that he was using that teapot, or maybe it was because he  was all alone in the kitchen, but–- 

He couldn't stop the sudden, urgent thought.

"I miss him,” Mumbo whispered to himself numbly. “I miss him so, so much." 

The admittance felt like a lightning strike, like an unpredictable yet inevitable discovery. Everything just felt wrong without him, everything felt numb. He hurt, he hurt every moment that they existed like this, in their weird state of in-between. Of always going, of never arriving. 

He had just wanted to be there for his friend, but apparently he couldn’t even do that right.

Mumbo felt his heart twist in his chest, wrapping around his lungs and coiling around his throat. He brought his hands up to his face to try and stop his tears from falling, wiping them from his cheeks as he shook. 

He couldn’t stop them, he couldn’t stop any of them. 

Everything just kept falling. 

He sunk to the cold floor, his knees turned weak and shaky as he broke down. There were no sounds accompanying his wheezing breaths, his tears were silent as they streaked down his cheeks. Calm. 

Like rain falling over a tranquil ocean. Like the first freezing step into all-embracing, numb waters.

Before long, the timer rang. 

The tea was done.

~

It almost started to get better. Almost. 

Mumbo managed to get himself out of bed, to pull together some food in the kitchen, to tug on some clothes that weren’t the same ones as the day before. Honestly, if he had to decide, he'd have much rather spent time sleeping, but… he had to get out of bed. He had to do something. 

He couldn’t bring himself to drink tea in the kitchen. Not after everything that had happened in there, not after he had broken down making tea… not after the argument. He only really felt somewhat comfortable there if Iskall was with him, keeping him distracted and present, but even then it was still sometimes too much. 

He did some of the work that had been building up from home, but he couldn’t get himself to return to work fully just yet. He felt like there was a dark cloud hanging above his head, like everything was just too much all of the time.

Eventually, it finally got too claustrophobic in his small flat, too enclosed and crushing. He needed to get out, to get some air. Something, anything but being in there for a single moment more.

When he finally got out of the house – dragging himself up and out had been challenging, even though he wanted to – it was already dark out. It was snowing, gentle flakes falling slowly to the ground. He slowly reached up, stretching out his stiff fingers and watching as the snowflakes fell into the palm of his hand. 

They melted slowly, cold water puddling in his hand, sending a chill that cut right through him.

It felt surreal.

Everything did, like the world was nothing but a weird dream. 

The yellow light from the streetlamps; the distant haziness of his thoughts; the silence of the sprawling city; the fresh, untouched snow; the emptiness of each street…

He walked slowly through the city, his gaze sweeping blankly back and forth over the desolate world. It was never this calm, this silent. He studied the buildings around him as intently as he could manage, taking in the repetitive decorations, the opaque black windows.

He ended up on a bridge, staring out over the inky black water. 

Everything felt off, as if he wasn’t really in control of himself, as if he was nothing more than an emotionless puppet. His feet just walked, chose a direction and took him to some destination that he couldn’t pinpoint. He felt uninvolved in the process, as though everything that his body was doing wasn’t associated with his mind. As though he had no stake in whatever was going on. 

The water rushing below him looked deep, the lights around him reflecting in it.

He stood there for a long while, snowflakes falling gently into his hair. It was peaceful, almost serene, but Mumbo’s mind remained full. Every thought was so overwhelming, screaming at him and shattering any semblance of calm he was trying to grasp onto. He felt like running away, like yelling into the inky night, but he couldn’t get himself to move.

Instead, he closed his eyes, and just… breathed. Slowly inhaling the cold air, letting it fill his lungs with a pleasant icy chill. He leant heavily against the railing, his hands clasped together tightly.

Everything was so incredibly lonely. He felt like the only person in the world, standing there on that bridge and praying for something to give.

It was odd, really. It’s not like he didn’t have plenty of people in his life, after all. He had his siblings, his friends, Iskall and– 

He shook his head violently, ignoring the twinge of pain that it sent running up his neck.

He didn’t really have him anymore. 

Even without the people that he knew, without the people that he was familiar and comfortable with- he lived in a city filled to the brim with individuals with lives and jobs and loved ones.

But, then again, Mumbo had heard people say that you would always feel lonely in a city. 

It’s inherent, somewhat. There were people around you all the time, but they existed solely in the background of your life, just as you existed in the background of theirs. Everyone was a blank face, a nameless story. They were all just strangers passing each other on the street or standing next to each other on the subway. 

There was no care. No community. No love to give or receive.

Most people were just forgettable background noise, nameless individuals that you would never have a reason to talk to. That you would never see again. 

The city was too big for something like that. 

Far too big. 

Distantly, Mumbo wondered if you would ever even realise if you did see them again.

Such a weird, lonely world.

"Excuse me?" A voice suddenly sounded to Mumbo’s right, and he jerked back from the rail in surprise. He hadn’t noticed anyone approaching, hadn’t heard their footsteps or noticed their shadow, and Mumbo couldn’t deny just how much it had caught him off-guard. He turned his head to look at them after a moment, one hand on his chest as he tried to breathe slowly to calm his racing heart. 

The stranger’s hair was just as white as the snow, shining brightly under the yellow light of the streetlamp. A mask covered the lower half of their face, and they wore a thick green winter jacket with a collar of thick white fur that only accentuated the mask’s presence. Somehow, despite being unable to make out most of their features, they managed to look apologetic for scaring Mumbo. 

"Uh– I'm sorry for bothering you,” they began, awkwardly. “But I seem to have lost my lighter. Do you happen to have one?" 

They held up an unlit cigarette, as if to explain why they asked.

Mumbo never had a lighter on him, he had no reason to, but his hands went to his pockets anyway. He was just about to shake his head, to say no and send the stranger on their way, when he noticed that there was an unfamiliar shape in his pocket. 

To his surprise, further investigation revealed that it actually was a lighter. How… strange. Coincidental.

He pulled it slowly out of his pocket and studied it for a second, confused as to how it had ended up there. It looked fairly old, a weird, metallic silver with a faded and chipped green pattern soldered to the case. It looked used; well-loved. 

Despite this, Mumbo had never seen the lighter before. 

"Oh, uhm– yeah, I have a lighter," Mumbo replied, handing the lighter to the stranger with a strained smile. 

Something in the stranger’s eyes lit up at the sight of it, however. As if they recognised it. As if they recognised it very, very, well.

Mumbo had never met this stranger before, he was certain of it. He would remember meeting a person with white hair who dressed as they did. He didn’t even know how the lighter had gotten into his pocket, so… how could the stranger recognise it?

Despite the questioning look that Mumbo shot them, they did not say a word about it.

"Thanks," the stranger said instead, as they took it from him. They smiled at him brightly, or… at least, Mumbo assumed they did. He could only see the creasing of their eyes and the shifting of their mask, but it seemed like a good enough indicator. 

Instead of lighting their cigarette, the stranger flipped the lid open and closed for a few long seconds as they stared at Mumbo.

"Are you okay?" They asked after a moment.

"...Why- why are you asking?" Mumbo replied, slightly sceptical. 

The stranger just shrugged. "You're dressed far too lightly for this weather, and you've been standing on this bridge for a while," they replied. "Thought you might need a friend."

"I…"

Mumbo hadn't even realised that he hadn't put on  a coat, that he just walked out into the city without getting properly dressed. He didn't feel cold. 

"Are you okay?" The stranger asked again, their tone concerned. 

Mumbo felt reluctant at first, but then he sighed, relenting. He smiled sadly at the stranger before him, shaking his head. 

"No,” he answered honestly. "I'm not. Everything has just been- it’s been a lot lately." He shrugged, as though the conversation was casual. 

"I'm sorry to hear that…” The stranger sounded remorseful, slipping the cigarette back into its pack. They never lit it. "Do you want to talk about it, or…?"

Mumbo noted the strangeness of it, but he didn’t say anything. He just watched as the stranger put the pack of cigarettes into their pocket, playing with the lighter between their fingers. 

Did he want to talk about it? He didn't know this person. He didn’t know them at all, and yet… 

He didn't want to bother them though, but they did ask…maybe–

"It's okay,” Mumbo replied, looking back out over the water. “It's kinda… normal for me now." 

The stranger was silent for a second, either waiting for Mumbo to continue or maybe they were just thinking about something. They slipped the pack of cigarettes back into their pocket, handing the lighter back to Mumbo.

Mumbo looked at it with a bit of confusion, taking the lighter from them hesitantly. "Weren't you going to smoke?" He asked. 

The stranger leaned against the railing as well, facing away from the water and propping themself up on their elbows. "Mhm. Didn't seem like the right time." 

That was– well. Honestly, Mumbo thought that it was nice of them to not smoke. He wasn’t sure he would've enjoyed it all that much. 

"Even if it's normal for you now, it doesn’t seem like you’re having a very good time of it,” the stranger prompted him to go back to the previous topic. They shrugged, “I might be wrong, though." 

"No, you’re– I mean… yeah. Yeah," Mumbo exhaled, feeling his shoulders fall. He hadn't realised how tense he had been. "You're not wrong,” he admitted. “It is hurting me."

The stranger waited patiently for Mumbo to continue. 

"I– uh– I have this friend, and we've known each other for a very long time," Mumbo said, watching as the stranger nodded in reply. “My brother introduced us when we were teens, and since then we’ve been close. Really close. Uh– best friends, really.”

It felt like such a long time ago. Telling this story now, it was almost bittersweet.

“For a really long time,” Mumbo continued, “It… it felt like he was the only person who truly knew me, and that I was the only one who truly knew him.” He sighed, something heavy and exhausted. “And then– something happened, I suppose. About a year ago now. I, uh– I don’t really know what, or why, but he… changed.”

He brought one shaky hand up to his face, dragging it down his face and basking in the coldness of the touch. He was so tired, so drained. 

He took a deep breath, focusing on the cold in his lungs before speaking again. 

“I’ve tried my best to support him, I really have, but– he just… he started to destroy himself, completely, and I just wanted to talk about it, and… he- he didn’t.”

It felt as though he was scratching at fresh wounds, picking at raw skin. Every word burned like a forest fire, untamed and wild. 

“I don't understand why he's so distant, why he's so set on destroying himself– why he doesn't just talk." 

He felt as though he couldn’t stop now that he’d finally been prompted to just… let everything out. It was like a waterfall pouring from his mouth, like someone had opened the floodgates to let all of his frustrations surge out.

"It hurts.” His voice broke pathetically at the end of the word, but Mumbo ignored it. He couldn’t stop. “It- it hurts so much, and now– I think I've fucked everything up. I cornered him about it, tried to push him and all it did was cause a big argument."

Part of Mumbo wondered what made him trust this stranger, what made him feel as if he could just spill to him all of this private, personal information. 

The other, louder part of Mumbo reminded him not to look the gift horse in the mouth. He needed this, even if it wasn’t necessarily right.

"We’ve- obviously we’ve bickered before, but never anything like this. Never.” Talking about it made it feel like Mumbo was breathing air for the first time in ages, like he'd been drowning and he just got pulled out of the water. “It went– badly, to say the least… I ended up kicking him out. I wouldn't be surprised if he hates me now."

When Mumbo looked over at the stranger, he was almost surprised to find that they were still there, still listening.

Their expression was contemplative as they pushed themself forward from the railing, starting to walk away. Mumbo felt his heart sink for a moment, before they looked over their shoulder and beckoned him to follow.

"I don't think he hates you," The stranger said earnestly, as soon as Mumbo caught up with them.

Mumbo’s pace stuttered, and he stumbled forward in a way that he would usually have been embarrassed by. Now, he was reeling far too desperately to be concerned with something like that, clinging onto the words of the person beside him. "What? But–" 

"I don't think he hates you," the stranger said again, shrugging. "To me, it just sounds like he's got a lot of issues, and he’s taking that frustration at himself on you. Which, y’know, is incredibly unfair of him.” Their brows furrowed, their jaw set certainly. “He shouldn't be doing that." 

"But– but I threw him out! I yelled at him! I-I–"

The stranger interrupted him easily. "You were well within your rights, doing that,” they said, as though they were trying to remind him of the fact. “You got fed up, and – well, I can't say that I know what happened during that argument – but I'm honestly not surprised.” 

They paused in their pace for just a moment, the stranger turning to him and setting their hands on his shoulders, staring into his eyes. “Every person has a limit and he pushed you to yours. That’s human. Nothing more, nothing less." 

They let go of him after a second, raising an eyebrow as if daring Mumbo to argue with them. When he didn’t, they spun on their heel and began to walk again, and left Mumbo jogging for a few paces to catch up. 

"Besides,” they continued, casually, “What he's doing is hurting you, you said it yourself." 

Mumbo was silent for a second as he walked next to the stranger. 

"I don't know what to do," he admitted, his voice small. "I really don't. I can tell that he needs help, and we need to figure things out, but I-I just don’t know how."

"Maybe you shouldn't do anything," they responded, their tone flippant but serious. "You can't help him if he doesn't want you to. He won't let you." 

There was another pause, before Mumbo whispered, desperately, "That terrifies me. It feels like I'm losing him."

The stranger looked at Mumbo, slowing their pace until the two of them were stopping again. 

“Maybe you are,” they shrugged, “But you can't control that. Maybe something might change in the future, but… right now, you need to let go. You need to focus on yourself." 

They sighed, running a gloved hand through their frost-covered hair. "You're so focused on him– on how he's feeling, what he's doing, what he needs, and you’re just… you’re forgetting that you need to take care of yourself, too." 

Subconsciously, Mumbo had known that, but… hearing someone say it? Hearing someone with no loyalty to neither him nor Grian telling him that he needed to move on? 

That was different.  

It felt like being punched. Like waking up after being in deep sleep. Like a weight lifted off his shoulders. 

"So,” the stranger prompted, “What do you want? What do you need?" 

"I–" 

What did he want?

"I want..." Mumbo paused, thinking about it for a second. 

"I want to be okay,” Mumbo said, looking down at his hands. “I want to feel better, healthier. I don't want to worry anymore… I want to be happy."

The stranger smiled – or, Mumbo guessed that's what they did – and the expression felt proud.

"Then focus on that, focus on making yourself happier, and don't be afraid to ask for help,” they adjusted their mask, pulling it just a little further up the bridge of their nose. “I'm sure you have people that care about you, people who would help you if you asked. So… do what he doesn't, and ask for help. Get a therapist. Try.” Their gaze was steady, confident. “It will get better, even if it's difficult for now." 

And somehow, that was exactly what Mumbo needed to hear. He smiled widely, not quite happy, more relieved. 

"I'll try," he said.

The stranger’s eyes creased as their grin grew.

"Promise?" They asked. 

"I promise," Mumbo said. "I promise I'll try."

The stranger nodded.

"Good," they replied, and the two kept walking. 

Maybe Mumbo didn't need to feel so alone in this weird, lonely world.

[pbandjesse]

It was fun sleeping in peeps mill last night but man was the mattress terrible. For one it was entirely to narrow. For two it was a bad texture so I kept sliding off. So I decided when I woke up that I would wait until breakfast and then go and take the mattress from the block house. It was the perfect crime. Mostly because I had already gotten permission to get a second/better mattress.

Besides that it was a pretty find sleep. I did wake up at 530 a little to warm. So I would take my sweatshirt off and go back to bed. I don't even remember falling asleep but then all of a sudden it was 730 and I was getting up.

I washed my face and got myself ready. And I felt good. I felt cute. And I liked being down here in the morning. I'm really glad that this move over here worked out.

I would gather myself and my stuff and walked up to the office. It was unlocked but no one was there. I washed my hands and got some water and continued on.

I went to breakfast. The fridges broke so it was only cereal. If the milk was better I wouldn't have minded but the fat free always tastes sickly sweet to me? So I only ate my cereal because I needed to eat something. I chatted with Antonio and Aaron and thought about how I would accomplish everything I needed to do. And then I was off.

I would start with the stealing of the mattress. I drove my car over to get it. It was a little difficult fitting it in the back of the car but I moved the seats up all the way and made it happen. No one was the wiser.

I drove to peeps and carried it in and set my new bed up and it's a little bit bigger then the frame but honestly it's perfect for my needs and way more comfortable. So I was very happy.

I would leave my car parked at the mill and then went back to arts to actually do my job. I would set up some bins and spent most of the next hour rinsing all of the tyedye tshirts. I actually wore gloves so my hands weren't miserable and painful. I had my headphones on and was having a great time just rinsing and singing. And it kept me cool working with the water from the spigot.

A few people would walk past and chat. Say good morning. Offer help. But I was in the zone and having fun. I let them know I appreciated them.

Once I was done I would spend the next couple hours in the office. Printing and laminating and getting program materials ready. I would get to overhear the "counselor draft" where the village directors bargained for their desired staff members. And it was fun hearing them talk about who they wanted and why and it was fun to listen in.

During that Charlotte also pointed out that I hadn't made any real differences between steam at the stream and nature skills. Oops. So I would spend a little time writing out the differences there. And just printing printing printing. It was a lot.

Louisa and Aaron would help me out by putting things in lamination sleeves. And once everything was actually on those sleeves I called it break time. I was so tired and my body aches hardcore. I wanted to go eat lunch.

I wasn't sure what lunch would be like so I decided to check it out and if it wasn't great I would go get pizza.

I made a stop at the art building before going to the lodge and there I caught a toad! I would put him in a box and brought him to lunch.

Where everyone was so excited to see a toad. It was so cute. People taking pictures and cooing and being so cute. Lindsay decided that it was to small to keep. So I would return it to the art building to eat the bugs there after lunch.

I would eat lunch outside with Callie and Blanche. It was fun. The food was not my favorite but it was filling and I'm glad I had it. I just would have preferred it on a roll.

I would go back to art and hang out in my hammock for a few minutes. I would also make some piles of the materials to be delivered. But then Callie was up there and we were discussing getting her a bed. She called Joe and he would tell us to come to the shed to get one of the new beds. And after him and Callie decided what beds were best I would run down to my car to pick it up. Then we would drive through camp to the hadia house to get a mattress. Callie said she was surprised I would drive that far into camp but honestly I did it a ton over the winter. My Subaru is built for it, it's pretty great.

We drove over to peeps and carried everything in. And spent the next hour building the bed and being silly. It actually came together pretty quickly and while there was some leaning issues we were able to put some cardboard under the legs to help it level out. We were very proud of ourselves.

After we finished we would lay in our beds talking and laughing and it was just really fun. We would eventually have to go back to work. So after a little break we headed back to the office to continue laminating.

It was busy busy in there. I would have to get my chair back so I could work at my desk. But I would still end up sitting on the floor to laminated when Callie left me to help with another task (organize walkies). But I would finish all the work and would start walking to hang up my signs.

I had done a little bit of that walk before lunch. Hanging signs at the low ropes course and zip. I felt bad stapling to the trees so I would say "thank you tree" every time. And I continued that on this walk.

I went to every site. And hung schedules and dropped off packets and thought about how I was going to move this and that over. I would need the gator but it's in high demand. So I wasn't sure when I would get it. But then as I was finishing at the Adirondack I saw Kieran and Tony and Merin on the gator and they were finishing their tasks so I asked if they would help me and they agreed.

So they slowly drove behind me as I walked to the art building. Where I would give them three sites worth of material and instructions and then they were off. I was so happy that that was taken care of.

I made one more pile of stuff to go to the Adirondacks and as I was walking to the office Jeci and some of the boys were walking on the field and asked if I needed help and so they would go and take all of it for me and I was so happy. So much weight was taken off my shoulders. Like there is still a lot of set up to do over there, but I am really happy with what has been accomplished.

I would join Tony and Merrin on a trash fun. Josephine was there too and it was fun bopping around with them and chatting. I also got to show them our pretty little cabin and they were nice enough to help gather the boxes the bed had come in. Which lead to us then doing a recycling run. It was nice to get the breeze from driving around. But eventually we were back at the office.

It was not quite dinner yet. I would go sit in the office and talk to Mirren and drink some ice tea and I was just in a really good mood and very chatty. But eventually Elizabeth made us help carry the boxes with the tshirts. Which were very heavy!!! Me and Sophia would carry it together and Elizabeth tested us. Meanie!

But soon me and Mirren would walk to dinner together.

They were finishing a talk with the group though so me and her went around the back. I would chat with the kitchen staff and invite them to swim with us this evening. I'm glad they want to hang out with us. One of them later on would tell me that their bosses said they weren't allowed to interact??? Ridiculous.

Dinner was good. The biscuits were a little to close to hardtack but we're better with butter. I enjoyed talking to friends. But pretty soon I was running off again.

I would end up running into a new person, Hannah, who is from Camp Spencer and is going to be overseeing the SSC and CIT and YLP programs. We would end up having an excellent conversation and going to the office together to look over my evening programs I had written. At the office though we ran into Slim! Our Appalachian musician who was performing this evening! I would introduce myself and texted the group chat to make sure everyone knew he was here. He also asked if I had a fan available because he was going to get very hot performing. And I said of course and would get him my fan from our cabin.

Me and Hannah would get the fan and walk over to the council ring. Chatted with Slim. And then we went to see where they were with training.

Running late of course. Finishing up but running late. While we were standing there a car drove up and we were all confused. But it was the family letting us borrow their rabbit!! How exciting. This bunny was huge! And her name was Todd. Everyone wanted to go see her and that was just so sweet.

I would go and tell Alexi everything I had done and was planning on doing. And then we were going to see Slim perform.

My legs hurt to much to dance. So I would take videos and eventually joined the jug band and played some instruments which I really enjoyed. It was fun. But I would dip out with about half of the staff. I was just a bit to tired.

I would go to the cabin to change. I also grabbed my shower stuff. And I would be the first one in the pool (after the life guards).

And the water was amazing. No more body aches. I jumped in and it was perfect.

I would get a noodle and just float for a long time. Jamie joined me first. And we hung out by the cove. Eventually others would come. The boys were being so silly and flipping and diving and it was a lot of fun. Even if it made the water very rocky.

Callie had gone home to get some of her stuff but she was back and joined us. I was in the water for more then an hour. But I started to get cold just floating there. So I would get out and dried off in my new tery cloth hoodie. It was nice.

I would get a shower. And felt a lot better after that. But I very much wanted to go back to our room and lay down.

I didn't have a light to walk there though so it was a little scary!! But I did not fall and would call James because I missed their voice. I have to walk back home towards the road to get enough service to hear them but it was worth it. I miss them greatly.

After we talked I came back and put on my jammies. But then Callie was back! She had to make some trips to get everything and we keep laughing and screaming and it's so fun. Like I never lived with anyone. Besides James I've never shared a room before! This is a neat experience for me. Like not even in college! And she's so fun and kind and already told me the things other people have been annoyed about in the past and it's nothing that bothers me. I am just happy to have my friend here sharing this experience with me.

But man am I ready to sleep. It took me a long time to write this because we keep laughing. But she has mostly fallen asleep and I am going to brush my teeth and sleep too.

Tomorrow is the last day of training. There still feels like there is so much to do. I have to believe it will all work out and be okay. And then at the end of the day I get to go home and see my husband!! I am thrilled about that.

I hope you all have a very good night. Sleep well. I love you all!!

[tonispencerart]

Sketchbook Experiments

I haven't been too well recently. It started with an allergic reaction (e-cigarette vapour, passively) which gradually turned into a chest infection... Manageable but annoying. But that left my immune system open to a battering from a head cold. I don't know if I perhaps accidentally and unknowingly had gluten from something I ate, but it's possible... And I felt a bit... Bleh... for a few weeks. Which meant that I didn't really do, or feel like doing much art. But recently, since I started to feel better, I found myself playing around with my sketchbooks again. My ADHD medication has been stopped for now (long, frustrating story!) and I've been finding it very difficult to concentrate on anything for more than about 90 seconds. So, in a rare moment of being able to do anything at all, I did this page in one of my sketchbooks.

The roses were done by tracing and transferring the image with tracing paper and a nice, soft graphite pencil. I then used some water-soluble coloured pencils to add colour and then blended the marks with water and a paintbrush. Once that was dry, I traced and transferred images of the two portraits in the same way. The one in the top left is of Jamie Bower as Christopher Marlowe (from the TV series 'Will'), and the smaller one in the bottom right corner is from the supposed portrait of Christopher Marlowe. With a selection of fine-nibbed pens (waterproof ink), I first made a simple line drawing to outline the portraits and then used cross-hatching to add detail and texture. The effect is similar to the one you'd get with Drypoint etching. I didn't want to lose the roses behind them so I made my marks as light as possible but still getting the values from the photographs. There are not many of them in the portrait that's supposedly of Christopher Marlowe (artist unknown) so I had to add some where there technically aren't any. As for the jacket, I switched the colours so I wouldn't obliterate the rose behind it. The rose was chosen because the rose features in Marlowe's poem - The Passionate Shepherd To His Love - which is one of my favourites. The point of the piece? Well... The first portrait is of an actor playing a role (in a series that isn't particularly accurate) with the second portrait of someone who isn't Marlowe at all either. We don't know who it is - but we can say for sure that it isn't Christopher Marlowe! Neither portrayal or image is accurate - which is an idea that is kind of fascinating to me. The images were originally taken at the very start of one of my last big art projects. I was working with ideas around the theme of concepts of truth, reality and theatre. I have so many copies of these images! I have a habit of ruining them before I'm finished with them and then need more of them, so I quickly learned to print more than I could possibly need - just in case! The final page ended up a bit scratchy, but I actually like the effect, personally. I'm torn between buying a little printing press so I can actually make some small drypoint etchings. But a good fineliner pen is a reasonable substitute... for now!

[biribaa]

WAI WAIT WAIT I had a thought and, how would O7 react to the reader wearing that fluffy jacket?? or the reader draping O7's inactive facility wires over their shoulders, and O7 found out??? the sudden brainrot had hit me

Fuzzy, soft, fluffy jacket

Fem!AI/Robot/O7 x reader

There will be O7's lore mentions, so If somebody want context, read my O7/Olivia x reader hcs for that

TW/CW: Mentions of torture and acrophobia.

Your situation is pathetic, you feel like a child of 5 lost in a clothing store because you separated from your mother, and the situation is almost like that, but with O7. You were sleeping with your girlfriend peacefully, but she hurried to whatever it was, and when you woke up, you found yourself on O7's counch that was carried by wires and that was meters away from the floor, alone.

The couch was large, almost the size of a large bed, but even so, the feeling that at any moment this counch could fall over made your stomach turn. You knew that O7 has her own role in this place, and she was the main star, but sometimes, you think O7 really takes the whole torture humans thing as a real job, making her even have appointments for herself and even acting more formal, but yet, she seems happy about it. But most of the time O7 is just on the couch with her mic on, where would she go? Not to mention O7 would never leave you alone, not with people she hates out there.

You sighed. You know what? Enough worrying, there must be something out there that can entertain your bored human brain.

You looked around, it was dark, and behind the couch, giant screens you never saw O7 use; down, there are hundreds of wires, thick and thin, holding the couch, it was a great abundance, it almost looked like a spider's web. Okay, maybe there's not so much AROUND you, but maybe there is on the couch.

The sofa was black and it was leather, and on the back seats was a big print that said "winner's couch", another one of O7's jokes to humiliate any of the humans. There was also a blanket and two pillows on the couch, which O7 brought so you wouldn't die in the cold. On the armrest nearest you were some O7's items, a notebook, some papers, sci-fi books that you might recognize, like "2001: A Space Odyssey" and "I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream", but you can't recognize the rest. And right on the side, a clipboard with papers full of notes. But what caught your eye's eye was a certain black jacket, O7's jacket.

There was no way you could control your curiosity with that right in front of you. You always wanted to wear O7's jacket, but you never had the courage to ask.

You looked both ways, checking if O7 isn't close, you crawled over to the jacket that was on the other side of the couch, and finally put your fingers on the jacket. You lifted the jacket over your front like it was the best thing you've ever seen, the inside of the jacket was covered in beige fur, and the texture was kinda heavy, and your fingers wouldn't go through the texture that easily, it looked like it even had a pattern, like lines.

You had an idea. You looked both ways again under pressure, and brought the jacket to your nose, taking a long sniff of the jacket. It smelled like used clothes, but it wasn't horrible, it even gave the jacket a spirit. Not to mention a strong smell of rusty metal, this jacket smelled like a workshop, especially one that works with things related to metal. You brushed the jacket off your nose, and admired it once more.

Finally, you've decided to put on the jacket, you've tucked the sleeves onto your arms, and arranged the fur on the hood. It is quite remarkable that the jacket is bigger than you are, and even though O7 is made of cold metal, the jacket was very comfortable and warm. You cracked a smile with the jacket, it gave you such a fuzzy feeling, it was like your own home, your own source of comfort, like a little sunshine.

You just found yourself in a situation where you were practically hugging yourself, a really tight hug, with the most goofy and silly smile you already had. Maybe or not, you might be imagining that who is actually hugging you is O7.

"Oh Casanova! I'm so, so, so sorry for leaving you alone for so long!" Speaking of the devil, a familiar voice comes up, and it slowly gets closer. You froze, but you had nowhere to hide. "Ugh, Julia and Antony formed a stupid group against me, I had to separate the two." O7 slowly got up and appeared in your view, she was —just like the counch— carried by hundreds of wires, and there were some extra wires that the second pair of arms were holding.

"Honestly Julia isn't that annoying, Antony and Tester are definitely worse, but when is she together with Antony? It's like she's influenced completly." She put a step on the arm of the sofa "I'm exhausted, all I need right now is a little bit of Y/N– Ugh, get out!" The second foot she was going to put on the couch was tangled up with a thread, which she managed to remove two seconds later.

O7 heaves a sigh, and finally turns his head toward you to face you. "So?–"

O7 stoned, and the smile on her screen slowly disappeared, and when 5 seconds passed of her staring at you in silence, you knew something was wrong.

"O7? Is something wrong?" You finally called out, snapping O7 back to reality "Is it the jacket? I can take it off if you want–"

"No! No, no... You... You can keep It" O7 cut off your speech, there was a tone of desperation in her tone that made you worried.

O7 slowly approached in silence, and sat on the arm of the sofa away from you and watched you silently. O7 didn't know how to react, she didn't know if she was happy because you looked adorable in that jacket, or if she was emotional because this was supposed to be X's jacket before he died.

O7 forgot X, she swears she got over X, because you helped her forget, but even so, seeing her current partner wear the jacket that was supposed to belong to a person who marked her life, someone who made her finally feel that someone loves her and cares about her left O7 devastated, if she could, she might be tearing up.

"Oh!" Your slow head FINALLY noticed the problem with the situation, and without hesitation you started to take off the jacket "I'm so sorry O7! I should have asked before, I forgot how special this jacket is for you and–" "No, no, no! It's fine! Really..." O7 approaches you sharply and stops your action, putting her hands on the collar of the jacket and pulling it back towards you and placing her hands on your shoulder.

"Really, it's fine..." Her hands moved to your arms as the extra pair of arms fixed the jacket that was a crooked. "It even suits you!" O7's smile finally returns

"...Really?"

"Really!"

[dickytwister]

collision, sleeping, cake slice, volcano, earth, camera, pencil, wrench and cloud for finley please >:^)

HEHEHE THANK U

oc asks

💥 COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with?

finley finds it hard to deal with every emotion. he IS emotionally mature, as in he does know how he feels and doesn't make others pay for the way he feels, but it's difficult for him to deal with having any kind of emotion because he gets such physical reactions to them? frustration makes him nauseous, fear makes his legs weak, happiness makes his throat tighten uncomfortably, etc etc. he's just such a physical man in his reactions—and represses so many of them—that it's hard to deal with any emotion at all without being a little weird about it.

💤 SLEEPING - do they fall asleep easily? what helps them sleep?

he's always had some trouble falling asleep, even as a kid, and especially now that he's in night city with all these noises that he's still not entirely used to. what helps him fall asleep is surprisingly to drink some chamomile tea and listen to movie soundtracks!! it keeps his mind off everything else, at least for a few hours.

🍰 CAKE SLICE - favourite cake flavour? are they specific about types of cakes?

i'm sorry to tell you this but this man does not like cake. he can make an exception for banana bread but that is IT. he doesn't like the texture and, esp with store bought cakes, HATES the icing. i don't think anyone hates icing more than he does in all the nusa.

🌋 VOLCANO - how bad is their temper? is it a slow boil, or a instant explosion?

before the heist, finley's temper is closer to a constant simmer. he's not an explosive guy and, as i said before, he represses many of his reactions to the emotions he feels, so he usually manages to calmly tell whoever's getting on his nerves to knock it off (through gritted teeth most of the time, but still).

after the heist, though, he's a lot more explosive. it doesn't take much to piss him off because he's just got so much going on and it's all a little too much, so he doesn't give as much of a thought about others' feelings before he tells them to shut the hell up or, in some cases, punches them right in the teeth. still, he tries his best to control that temper of his.

🌏 EARTH - will they give up the world for someone they love? is this decision easy for them?

in a heartbeat. finley is so full of love that it hurts me physically to think about it, he loves his friends and family so so much and would burn down the entire planet for their sake. there is literally nothing he wouldn't do for them. maybe he'd feel a little bad about it. maybe he'd feel REALLY bad about it. but, to him, they come first, and the rest of the world comes after.

📸 CAMERA - do they enjoy having their picture taken? what's their go-to pose? do they like taking photos? what do they take photos of?

does not care about having his picture taken, but it rarely happens because his go-to pose is literally a kubrick stare. he makes even the silliest picture look like jack nicholson just showed up.

he doesn't take many pictures, but the ones he does take, he prints out and keeps either in his apartment, in his car or in his vest. he takes pictures of the people he loves, but also of things that remind him of them. whenever he sees a cool car, he takes a picture because that's the kind of thing he'd have shown jackie in the past.

✏️ PENCIL - is there a particular quote / lyric that you associate with them?

"i wish i had the time to live a little more"

song lyric that makes me fall to my knees and weep uncontrollably!!! he wants nothing more than to live peacefully and yet he's thrown in a world where everything moves so fast and people leave so fast and. ogh

🔧 WRENCH - are they good at fixing relationships? or do they tend to avoid doing so?

you can try to pry a relationship out of finley's cold dead hands. even if there's nothing left to fix, even if it's toxic, even if it kills him to hold on, he never lets go, at least not willingly. relationships are incredibly important to finley and, as hard as it is to actually get close to him in any way, once you're there, he'll do anything to make you want to stay.

☁️ CLOUD - a soft headcanon

he can sew really well!! he had to learn pretty early to do that while living on the road, but it's now something he does to relax in his free time. he's still really bad at creating designs, but he makes ugly little plushies that he displays in his apartment or gifts to his friends (the aldecaldos have one that serves as a mascot. it's supposed to be a dog. it does not look like one.)

[entropii]

OC meme: any or all of -- shaved ice & strawberry for inga & enca! pancake & family for dandelion!

😭🧡!!

🍧 SHAVED ICE - do they still have any objects from their childhood? what significance does it have to them? what would their reaction be if they lost it?

INGA: I haven't thought about Inga's childhood too much yet, but she probably has a few things from back then. Inga and her siblings have always been very close with each other, even if they barely see each other anymore, so I like the idea that these things remind her of them. Perhaps a fruit tree that Vicia helped her plant and take care of at their childhood home. Something with pretty, red-purple leaves and rare, decadent fruits that Inga brought with her to the city she now rules over. Maybe a set of jewelry from Kuzu that he crafted himself. As showy as Inga and Kuzu can be, this set is a little more understated. Something with thin chains and delicate bells, earrings and necklaces and something to decorate her horns. She wouldn't be upset to the point of tears if she lost them, but she would still be very, very, Very upset. Bad mood. Wouldn't host any of her usual events for at least a week and a bit.

ENCA: They have an old, out-of-print vinyl record from one of Edith's first operatic recordings. I think in this iteration of Enca, it's a nostalgic reminder of their childhood. Warm sunset filtering through the windows, little dust motes in the air, the sound of her parent's singing filling the whole house. Edith twirling around with a young Enca in their arms, Enca making little half-chirps as they try to sing along. It's also just a warm reminder of Edith themself. I haven't decided if they just don't get to see each other as often, or if Edith is capital G Gone gone, but suffice to say Enca doesn't see them often (or at all) anymore. If they ever lost it, Enca would most certainly cry. Sure, they could easily find another recording, but it's not going to be this specific, physical copy that Edith gave to her because she liked listening to it so much.

🍓 STRAWBERRY - do they eat their fruit & veg? what is their favourite fruit or vegetable?

INGA: Loves eating exceptionally high quality fruit and vegetables, though she doesn't like eating raw veggies very much. She likes when they're in the upper extremes of texture and flavor. If she she's eating sweet mango, it has to be the sweetest! mango. If she's eating lettuce, it has to be the crispest! lettuce. This lemon has to be so sour that it hurts her tongue. She's not a picky eater, but she loves to indulge her senses as much as possible, whenever possible. Her favorite is passion fruit! Likes the tanginess against the sweetness and also thinks the pulpy seeds are fun.

ENCA: Also likes to eat fruits and vegetables, but they tend to like mild or bitter flavors. Things like pear or pomelo, watercress or bittermelon. She really likes blood oranges! Just sweet enough, not too tangy, has that sort of berry flavor, and a pretty ruby color.

🥞 PANCAKE - what is their comfort breakfast?

Mostly warm and savory things. Macaroni soup with chicken broth and chunks of ham, or rice porridge topped with a fried egg. Maybe a big, steamed or baked bun with roast pork or sweet red bean filling. Whatever combination of items, Dandi's comfort breakfast has to have at least a fried egg or some type of bright, round orange fruit (usually citrus). Really strong memory from their childhood in The Garage of sitting at the table, swinging their feet while someone peeled mandarins and fed them little slices, or helped them get a fried egg onto a piece of toast. A smile and a little nod while they ate and saying to Dandi, "Best to start the day with a bit of the sun."

👪 FAMILY - what is their family like? what is your ocs relationship to them?

The people of The Garage are a group of mechanics, pilots, and engineers who, upon finding a young Dandelion with nowhere to go, collectively went, "Our child now." I haven't thought out individual members so much, but I imagine they're an eclectic bunch who are nevertheless caring and supportive of each other. They're the kind of people who would do Big Sandwich Night. Most, if not all of these people never raised a child before, but they did their best to learn and sought help when needed. Did their utmost to be just as caring and supportive. Taught Dandelion different skills, fed them a lot of good food, instilled in them an appreciation for Big Robot.  

Dandi grew up close with their family, and they're still close with them now. They still frequently visit The Garage and go back to do maintenance on Lucky Punch. Always a good time getting everyone together to eat, or clambering up the scaffolding so they can get a better look at the cool new robot arm from the latest salvage run that somebody slapped onto their own mech.

[kimranmalhi]

Going digital - 16/04/24

On Thursday I started to go digital so I scanned in my imagery and my prints. I combined the cardigans with the lace using the polygonal lasso so I could get a cleaner cut. I started collating my motifs and adding texture to them to further enhance my final prints, creating depth and dimension. When I added the lace to the green cardigan it complimented it really well. Initially, I thought the lace would be too much because this one has more detail of the knitwork in it. However it worked perfectly and I was pleased with this motif however I did find it to be a bit light. When I scanned it in the colour altered because when I printed it the colour was darker in person. So this is something I will change in further digital work. I plan to make adjustments to this to ensure it matches my colour palette and stands out like the physical cardigan.

On this day I started experimenting with layouts and I struggled with this. I found it hard to connect the motifs and my grandma and they felt disconnected. I didn't really like any of my outcomes this day. However I did try creating the mark making digitally and I enjoyed how this translated digitally. I scanned in my mark making and I turned it into a brush so it was easier to manipulate and move around. I previously made patterns and brushes and am familiar with photoshop so I didn't find using it difficult it was just designing. My mind had gone blank and I needed to sit down and refocus what I wanted in my head so I could translate it onto photoshop and create a wallpaper that effectively communicated my narrative.

Carrying on with wallpaper prints - 17/05/24

I was having problems with my USB and it ended up getting corrupted and my photoshop files from the previous day wouldn't open. I felt really discouraged and disappointed and I found it hard to restart and get back on top from this, as I was really pleased with the lace outcomes and mark making. So I tried making something new where I tried these shadow objects as I wasn’t satisfied with the colour of some of my prints. So I painted ontop of theme and it created this blocky colour that I thought was interesting and intriguing. I added some shadows to it and it really made the print pop and standout. I was happy with the tile of this one it felt more developed and refined. However, I also felt that there was something missing in the gaps. I'm planning to try incorporating some mark making to see if it helps enhance the overall look. My favourite motif in this style was the teddy bear I think this technique worked well with making it stand out however I don't think it worked as well with the clock and the coin purse as you can't see any of the detail anymore. I liked the overall wallpaper design for this however the downside of this print is that it looses a bit of the detail and key elements that makes the piece feel more personal and authentic, like the texture and linework. When printing a sample of it I also noticed that the shoe was too light so I will be changing this further on.

[mahleahmcmaster]

Embroidery

It was now time to close in on ideas and see if there was past work that you wanted to renovate. I was starting to collect samples that I thought were the best of my work and see what could be changed or be perfect for my board so that I could finally start sticking the rest of the samples into my sketchbook.

This heat press piece that I created a while back has been one of my favourites from the start, whether that's because of the meaning behind it for my narrative or because I am just fond of the piece. So I knew this was something I would embody into my board however whilst I was looking through my work trying to spectate what needed embroidering, Amy one of the teachers approached me and could see I was definitely stuck. I was torn at first with trying to embroider into one of my screen prints as I thought they could do with some finishing touches but she said perhaps incorporating the lion figure into my heat press of the Atlantic Ocean and the Caribbean Sea, would be more compelling.

I saw the vision and had an idea to practice reverse applique. Also because of the material that I used for this heat press, it needed a backing piece no matter what, so why not add more and make the texture 3D. I picked up red and yellow material and the backing underneath to give it more support. The next process was to use the stencil from my screen print and outline the top of the head into the skyline. Almost as though the lion is rising.

I used a shiny cream sewing thread as I wanted it to be somewhat visible but not as harsh as a black or brightly-coloured thread. Placing my material into the embroidery hoop, I had to make sure the material was pulled tightly ensuring that I wouldn't have any scrunched-up areas. I then begin to sew where I had drawn my outlines and to be honest it was tricky trying to keep it as neat as possible. I had to dive straight in with the original piece as I hadn't made any copies of this piece. I think that's definitely something to improve on next time.

Once I had sewn all my outlines, I got the seam ripper and started to cut through the first layer so that the red material could shine through. I chose different parts to cut through both layers so that I could show the yellow as well. My reasoning for not using green in this practice was because the hills were green and if this piece was to be placed on my board (which was the plan), I didn't want the green overbearing every other colour on my board. Once I had cut away everything I wanted, I left a few pieces to be flappy as I thought it gave a realistic effect.

I was satisfied with my outcome. It didn't seem as though it made the image too busy, it was just right, that bit extra that it needed to be classed as a final piece on my board.

[joyfulbirdpeach]

9 TED Talks That Anyone Working in fake designer bags Should Watch

I guess All people continues to be there, that minute of standing in front of a window Display screen, gawking at an attractive reproduction bag in the store window… It is really Virtually hypnotic-like state, occasionally I’m unable to pull myself away from it! I imply, duplicate bags certain are lovely, along with the large-high-quality types much more so…It really is why this subject’s usually a favourite when good friends And that i sit back for the chat.​

Suffice it to convey, it has been some time due to the fact I initially grew to become interested in replica baggage.​ I keep in mind currently being very established to seek out the ideal bag that would be the proper match for me.​ I was trying to buy a bag that fit me to the ‘T’, one which was strong, sturdy and wouldn't very easily buckle in a couple of days.​ Inevitably I discovered a thing that caught my eye And that i just realized that was the one particular! Me and that bag experienced a relationship, obviously!

I do think the secret to getting the best duplicate bag lies in possessing the tolerance to find an ideal one.​ It is a bit endeavoring to sift with the hundreds of luggage that occur in different models, supplies, colours, sizes and styles accessible available in the market.​ So I needed to place some function into acquiring the right 1, but it absolutely was worth it in the long run.​ I just like the leather-based ones since they glance sophisticated and final a lot longer compared to the Many others.​

Then you can find the sample.​ Now, this is especially important as it speaks volumes about your own design.​ From curated models, specially crafted prints and luxe textures to colourful geometrics, Absolutely everyone needs to be equipped to pick some thing they locate stylish and stylish that matches their vibe and Frame of mind.​ With each new masterpiece I locate, my delight grows.​ The diversity that reproduction baggage present truly shock me and mesmerize me at the same time.​

I generally Ensure that you choose quality right before anything.​ Reliable duplicate baggage are solid and sturdy, you don't need for being stuck carrying something which appears to be attractive but speedily starts tattering absent on the seams.​ It truly is essential to get the appropriate bag, so I decided to be sure I acquired a thing that would last with the yrs, and I found the proper truthful-priced one particular.​

At the moment, it's like my little friend that faithfully arrives alongside where ever I go.​ It carries my trusty pen, songs participant, tissue packs and a number of other important paraphernalia.​ The bag has been with me For a long time, but it really however appears superior as new.​ No surprise why duplicate bags have become An increasing number of well-known, I suppose people today just want to find the most worth out of their revenue.​

pretend bags

Very well, my Good friend, I just purchased a stunning bag on the web, and I used to be so fired up to indicate it off to you personally.​ Needless to say I am no fashionista but I do know a fake bag when I see just one.​ It did not consider me lengthy to realise all wasn't what it appeared.​

I started to question it the moment I noticed it.​ There have been some quite noticeable notify-tale symptoms that it had been a 'dud'.​ First of all, it absolutely was just also superior to get true – it had been way less expensive than you would anticipate it to get for its good quality and style.​ Moreover the packaging was weak as well as the logos weren't in the proper area in any way.​

I commenced getting next ideas about this and that's Once i decided to do a little analysis.​ Absolutely sure more than enough, After i checked out the product images on the website, all of it began incorporating up.​ The stitching was not ideal, the logo was various, and also the straps were being distinctive from the way it's pictured on the website.​

I used to be gutted when I learned I would been duped! I joined a few forums to coach myself a bit more about how to identify a bogus bag and it turns out, it is not as difficult because it seems.​ From Understanding the main points inside of and out to studying the slight distinctions in just how It really is sewn or maybe taking note of the tags, you can find absolutely tips on how to spot a bogus bag.​

And all my problems did not finish there.​ Mainly because I would purchased it online, it absolutely was extremely hard to return it, so in the end I just threw it away.​ It felt like the whole issue was a pricey and utterly pointless lesson.​

But it designed me Consider a good deal over it, you realize? It will take months, often even yrs, for these counterfeiters to perfect their craft and replicate designer baggage and also other goods.​ It really is an sector really worth billions of dollars and it is apparently appropriate under our noses.​ There are plenty of individuals on the market who are willing to spend significant money for a thing that is not genuine and that does not make them seem very good.​

It truly is definitely intellect-blowing how these fakes are so painstakingly put with each other and yet people however are unable to place them! These knock-off shops are popping up just about everywhere and they're doing a roaring trade.​ It is fake bags actually an uphill job attempting to put an conclude to them but awareness performs A significant position In this particular.​

So, my Mate, the following time you see an individual carrying all around a 'designer bag', stand up close and private with it and make Completely absolutely sure That which you're getting is the actual offer.​ Examine that it isn't really some inexpensive duplicate – it could finish up costing you way more than you bargained for.​

Most people will show you It truly is simply a designer bag but you should hardly ever choose something at face worth.​ The only real confident way to tell if It can be authentic is by inspecting it intently.​ What appears to be to be a little slip-up can finish up making a large variation, and what much better way in order to avoid any heartache than by making certain your bag is the actual matter.​

Expertise is ability, and that's why I've accomplished my investigation and shared it along with you.​ Ideally this info can assist teach as many people as feasible and set an conclusion to those phony bag cons, preventing upcoming heartache and economic losses.​

I think it's no shocker that for Lots of individuals, replica bags are getting to be the go-to alternative.​ For starters, the standard of these baggage has drastically improved through the years, with several suppliers buying the production of much better and highly strong supplies.​ Next, there is certainly the value.​ They supply a nice compromise because They can be priced decreased than the first designer baggage and provide Pretty much exactly the same characteristics.​ As well as the fashion developments often evolve plus the diversity of types offered now allow it to be easier to pick something which matches everyone.​

They're also extremely convenient to hold and extremely flexible.​ For many people This can be An important aspect since they can easily take it out to dance classes, to cafes, to fulfill good friends and in many other events.​ Except for this, the models are gorgeous and absolutely eye-catching.​ It really is like strolling all over by using a work of art – it screams epic style!

The decisions are unlimited In relation to duplicate luggage.​ You will find the micromodal and 3D variations, multicolor combos, vibrant styles and prints and the good previous neutral ones.​ It can be difficult to choose which a person to Opt for nevertheless it's just heavenly in order to search.​ You frequently ponder why people squander cash about the high-priced originals when you will discover these great replica baggage at a fraction of the price.​ It is truly a no-brainer, don’t you think?

I am confident any one would agree that replica baggage are the right mixture of vogue and practicality.​ Insert to the point that they are Tremendous inexpensive and stylish, and you've got an ideal staple that's healthy For each and every situation.​ I mean, every human being desires a superb bag to carry out their best design and style, and duplicate luggage do make an excellent effect.​

[navigatingirlhood]

2023 Fall Fashion Trends

Fall is upon us, and the fashion world is buzzing with fresh trends to elevate your wardrobe. This season, designers are pushing boundaries with an exciting array of styles. Here's a sneak peek into the hottest trends for autumn 2023: • Pleating is making a stylish comeback this autumn. Whether you choose a soft, flowing pleat like Loewe or a more intricate design like Paco Rabanne and Rokh, pleating adds texture to your outfit without overwhelming it. Keep the rest of your ensemble simple and monochrome to let the pleats shine. Believe it or not, peplum is back in vogue. This classic fit-and-flare style creates a flattering silhouette and can elevate even the most understated looks. Don't dismiss it, it's a trend worth trying. • Quiet Luxury : This trend eschews flashy logos and designer prints in favor of subtlety. Timeless vests, well-cut jeans, and finely tailored blazers are your allies in achieving this look, which stands the test of time. • Red : Move over fuchsia, because the real autumnal color trend is bold red. Not just any red—think classic scarlet. For extra style points, don this shade from head to toe. • The LBC (Long Black Coat): Stay warm and chic with the Long Black Coat, a highly wearable trend this season. No need for floor-scraping coats; choose one that falls just above the ankle, like Victoria Beckham's designs. It's the perfect throw-on piece for a stylish autumn. • Sheer Revelations : The sheer trend is back with a bang! Designers are taking it up a notch by encouraging you to embrace your confidence. No more modest slip dresses or hidden trousers - autumn is all about revealing your inner fashionista. So, get ready to bare it all, both literally and figuratively, with sheer sheaths that leave little to the imagination. • Moody Blooms : Who says florals are only for spring and summer? In 2023, moodier-hued blooms are stealing the spotlight for autumn. Opt for deep base colors like black or charcoal grey and let the flowers pop. Whether you choose one bold bloom or an assortment, these moody florals will brighten up your fall wardrobe and defy the winter gloom. • Tights in Sight : Practicality meets style with this trend straight from the designer runways. Say goodbye to subtle nudes and basic black tights. This season, it's all about statement-making legwear. From vibrant reds to eye-catching blues, pinks, greens, and whites, let your tights steal the show and make a bold fashion statement. • Butter Sticks : For those who prefer subtlety, a beautiful buttery, pastel-y yellow-gold tone is making waves in autumn fashion. This shade exudes quiet elegance and is incredibly versatile. Unlike louder color trends, this subdued hue is easy to incorporate into your wardrobe, making it a must-try for the season. • Liquid Metal : Party season wouldn't be complete without metallics, but 2023 takes it to a whole new level. It's not just about shimmer; it's about the quantity and placement. Go all-in with a liquid metal look that appears as though you're dripping in metallic sheen from head to toe. This trend is all about extravagance and making a statement. • Low Waist Belts : The return of low-slung waists has brought back another familiar trend: low waist belts. While you may recall the iconic concho disk belts from the 2000s, today's interpretation is sleeker and more modern. You can wear these belts over dresses, but opt for a dropped waist style to avoid a loose and sloppy look. • Back to School : Nostalgia meets fashion with the back-to-school trend. Shirts and ties take center stage on the AW23 runways, but this time, you have the freedom to pair them with any bottoms you like. Say goodbye to strict dress codes and embrace the school-inspired fashion, even if it means donning PVC trousers that would have raised eyebrows in your school days.