Layer play

The official start of winter has seen the chill winds pick up, calling for that extra layer of warmth - at least in the early mornings.

However, “creative” layering (i.e. not a 3-pc suit) is frought with danger, and you can start to resemble a patchwork quilt that got dressed in the dark - if you’re not careful about what and how you layer.

I think the key to layering well is to ensure the colours and textures all complement each other. Here shades of blue, brown, grey and rust are all in harmony, while the cardigan is “city” enough to fit in (and under) a flannel sportscoat.


Two new hats that I made in preparation for the Steampunk Weekend in Gothenburg at the end of the month! 

As usual, they need names so all suggestions are very much appreciated! :)

are you fucking kidding me?; even more hunting husbands

The vamp nest is an old school New England farmhouse, two stories and a roof that sags over the porch, the ground floor lopsided from new rooms being tacked on over the years. The lock on the front door is so rusted that Sam snaps two lock-picks before the tumbler even starts to jiggle. The vamps probably go in and out through the back, but the yard is so overgrown that a guy could get lost in it. Dean hadn’t wanted to risk bumping into some bloodsucker taking is morning piss.

“Almost got it,” Sam whispers, easing the lock-pick back to reposition it. A few brown-red rust flakes follow it out, smearing on the back of his hand when he tries to brush them off. “Just another sec.”

“There’s a window around the side that isn’t boarded,” Cas points out.

“Yeah, if I – wait.” The lock clicks and Sam nods. “Got it.”

Dean eases his machete out of his belt. “All right. How many do we think are in there?”

“I counted three at the bar,” Sam says. “The bartender said they usually come in with two other guys.”

“Two more at the pool hall,” Cas adds, hooking his finger in Dean’s back pocket. He gets that way right before go-time, likes to be close.

Dean leans into him a little, tipping his head back until he can feel Cas breathing against his collar. Sam doesn’t quite roll his eyes. “That chick at the liquor store – I don’t know. Solid maybe.”

“So… at least seven, maybe eight,” Sam says.

Eight would make it almost three-to-one, but Dean has worked with worse odds and come out on top. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Just as he reaches for the doorknob, it rattles from the inside. The door creaks open on cranky hinges, and a short, blonde vamp snarls at them, her lips pulled back around a mouthful of nasty teeth.

Sam rams his machete through her throat. She hits the door on the way down, and it groans like a Halloween sound effect as it swings back.

“So much for surprising them,” Cas mutters.

There are two more waiting for them just inside, but they’re still blinking the sleep out of their eyes, and Dean and Cas take them down almost in tandem. The farmhouse falls silent, and Dean glances around the room. It has three doors leading in three different directions; Sam checks out the one on the left, then shakes his head, mouthing, “Kitchen,” as he gestures for them to keep going.

The next room has three vamps in it; Dean kills the one napping on the couch right beside the door, but the floor whines as he stumble-steps out of the blood spray, just loud enough to wake the other two up. The first one dies quick; the other one manages to shout before Cas takes off his head.

“That’s six,” Dean says, palming Cas’ hip.

There’s a grunt in the front room, then the dull, meaty thud of a dropping body, and then Sam comes through the door and says, “Seven.”

Cas brushes Dean’s wrist, his fingers skimming over the thrum of Dean’s pulse. “Upstairs.”

Just as the crowd back into the front room, footsteps shuffle and creak over head. A vamp runs halfway down the stairs, pausing long enough to shout, “Hunters!” over his shoulder. Two more come down after him, then two more, then two more.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dean says.

Cas touches the small of Dean’s back, and then it’s on.

End, Day 1.

I want to slick the edges of the mouth to make it feel more weathered. Am really itching to dye this, but I want to wait for the initial molding to dry 100%. I’ll test dyes on my scrap piece tomorrow. Am thinking of starting with yellow and then layering browns and rusts.

So far, I’ve learned I will need to wear a bald cap, after all. No biggie. I’ve also learned that this mask size seems like it will work just fine – it should be a bit stretched out on my face and that’s exactly what happens when I put it on.

crowtoed helped me find some great “bubble” cotton gauze. Once I buy it, I’ll tea-stain and wash for weathering. I still need to get a wig, but that’ll have to wait until after shatterdomeatl

Connections (Mass Effect fic, 4250 words)

Summary: Steve Cortez and Shepard’s team are trapped on Despoina and in a desperate situation. With Shepard absent on a mission to the sea bed, Cortez, Javik, and Garrus must fend off Reaper attacks. In the lulls between attacks, both Javik and Garrus have something to say about Cortez’s developing relationship with Shepard.

Rating: Teen (violence, language, excessive Prothean rudeness).


Cortez was seized by regret and doubt as soon as the stormy waters closed over the head of the rust-brown mech. In the absence of the aura of confidence that surrounded Shepard, the plan seemed ludicrous and foolhardy. Had he really suggested sending Shepard to the bottom of the ocean in a beat-up mech to try to make contact with the Leviathans? All in some vain hope that the ancient aliens could provide a way off this worthless, storm-beaten ball of water? It was a foolish risk to take with the life of his commanding officer – and Shepard was more than that to him. He took a second to relive the kiss in Purgatory, Shepard’s warm lips enthusiastically meeting his, Shepard’s hand slipping around his back.

He shook his head to return to the present. Even with the shuttle grounded, he had a job to do, and at least he had voice comms with Shepard. He leaned over and spoke into the comm. “Suit holding up, Commander?” 

Shepard’s voice came back highly distorted, but Cortez could make out the words. “Looks good so far.”

Cortez breathed a quick sigh of relief. “Good. I’m getting some comm interference on this end. Hang on.”

All that came back was a blast of static.

Cortez tried again. “Commander, can you read me? We’re losing your signal. Please respond.”

Crackling and hissing were all he heard. 

“Commander, please respond. Commander? Shepard?” Cortez repeated, worry now evident in his voice.

Nothing. Cortez felt a chill. Had something happened to Shepard? Cortez had checked the mech enclosure over carefully. He was confident it would hold up at any depth Shepard could have reached. Shepard was all right; something had to be blocking communications. He deployed his omnitool and brought up a readout on his communicator. Everything seemed to be in order on his end.

“Commander, please respond,” he tried once more. Once again, nothing. Wonderful. What else could go wrong?

From outside the shuttle, Garrus barked, “Incoming! We have company!”

Read the rest on AO3 or

anonymous asked:

any recommendations for a good, matte red-toned brown/rust colored eyeshadow?? Thank you!

From Makeup Geek:

x Sabrina 

black flakes

Oh my gawwwwwwd.

So, I’ve noticed some gross black nori looking flakes on clothes from the washing machine.

Looks suspiciously like the mold sheets that build up under the bathtub. 

Googled it. “Do your clothes smell, and do they have black flakes on them straight out of the washing machine?”

Haven’t noticed a smell, which doesn’t mean there isn’t one.

Anyway, filled the machine up with water, a shit ton of baking soda and vinegar, soaking for an hour.

While filling up the bucket with cold water from the bathroom, the water was BROWN with RUST! I was like, ohhhhhhhhhh shit! I guess I never use cold water in the bathtub. 

I waited for the water to run a little clearer, and by the time the machine was full, the water was completely clear.

I swear, if it isn’t one thing it’s another. You need to keep everything in the house flowing and working and used, or it starts to just deteriorate.

It’s like the human body. When you start using something you haven’t in awhile, it’s like all this rust starts bursting out, which pretty much happens every time I try to exercise.

as much as i say i associate wyn with purple - and i do, it’s the color she prefers - she is also her desert; brown and tan dirt, rust breeze and blood (old blood, nearly black, and new blood - on knuckles or lips, spilling out around bullet holes - it’s bright red and gleaming like money, and it’s on her hands regardless of if she’s helping or hurting);

golden sunsets through mesa and malpais and the blood crimson that follows before night falls. the vibrancy of cactus blooms, and the orange california poppies, and the thick fuschia prickly pears that show you where the life still thrives;

the dark orange of sandstorms at dusk, the gravel under her shovel as another body finds a home - gray and brown like grave dirt, like old steel, like dawn before blue seems to find the ruined world -

she likes purple, like bruises and desert wildflowers that bloom for a week and die. but we cannot be what we like, not always, and wyn is her desert (be it beautiful and blooming or tired and death - the duality suits her home, and the duality suits her), and she is blood - as much as she despises the thought - she still wears a red dress to vegas, and everyone agrees that it looks right on her.

Aight, might as well make an official summons. Fun times searching for specific things!


Primary: Bar, Ripple, Speckle, Vipera and maybe Clown.

Secondary: Shimmer, Eyespots, maybe the companion genes to the primaries mentioned above.

Tertiary: Underbelly, maybe Smoke, open to other genes excluding Circuit.

Colors: Beige, Sand, Brown, Chocolate, Rust, Blood, Maroon, Maize / White range. Maybe Ivory, Gold, Goldenrod, Swamp, or Spring. Mulberry and Crimson will be considered as well.

No: Triples, Basics, Crystal, Facet. Preferably not iridescent, but not unwelcome. Brown range shimmers are a little awkward too but that’s a nitpick really. Offer away. 

Notes: XYY would be favored, but XYZ and XXY are great too. Light, Fire, and Wind would be -awesome- but not necessary. 

All offers will be gratefully viewed but purchase is not guaranteed. Links to hatcheries are welcome.