custom gloves

Orson Krennic is the most incredibly ostentatious and over-the-top and smug and arrogant Imperial officer and he’s…. incredible 

the pretty kyber crystals pulled straight out of dead jedis’ lightsabers he gives to Galen in a fancy case as a (project) proposal gift

he fully dresses up and brings vintage wines (dinner and dessert separately) for the Ersos when he’s invited for dinner

his old-timey wood-plated blaster!

his probably custom imperial shuttle because of course he has to have a custom shuttle

them gloves……….

the fucking cape (which he has to wear even on the watery battlefield while everything is on fire)

(yet he thinks Darth Vader has “eccentric fashion sense”)

his personal guards are called “death troopers” and he had to bring them even to SWCE

truly incredible

4

Halloween costume fitting #2 with Winnie the Pooh:  Pooh says his costume has no bottom half.  Someone get that bear some pants!

This will be our last costume progress post.  Mom says showing anything else would ruin the surprise of what my costume is!

shoutout to @adrelix for the wonderful art that smacked me in the face and demanded I write these two. 


The gloves were…I want to say spur of the moment but that’d be a fucking lie and even I’m not that big of a liar. I don’t want to think about what they mean though because it’s normal for…friends to get each other custom made gloves right? It’s normal to watch your roommate so much and so often and so close that you notice the way their hands shake when the temperature drops and the weather changes. And it’s completely normal to want to smooth out their knitted eyebrows with a gentle finger and a lame joke right?

I’m pretty sure it’s normal but then what the fuck do I know? I’ve never had any real friends before, not ones who would drop a subject when I stopped answering, not one who avoided shit altogether. I don’t know if a friend is what I am to Kohe because it doesn’t sound strong enough but it’s the only word I have.

He’s sad, in a strange way, not sad like he missed his favourite tv show but sad like he lost his entire family and maybe he has. What do I know? I know he’s Japanese, he speaks the language too fluently to not be, and I know he can forge official documents like a motherfucker and I know he’s got a thing for music. He thinks I don’t notice the way he sways when he’s listening to his music or that I can’t hear when he turns it up loud enough but I do. Maybe someone else wouldn’t have caught the music, the violin pieces that sound sad like the instruments themselves are crying, but if Kohe wanted a normal roommate he would’ve fucking got one.

I leave him alone all night, let him do whatever it is he does and try not to think about the way his mouth fell open when I tossed the gloves at him. He’s handsome as hell and I wonder if he realises sometimes, he’s always hiding his face somehow but I know what he looks like; he’s got some of the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen even if I can’t see the colour. I wonder what colour they are sometimes, when I can’t sleep because the phantom pain of broken ribs puncturing my lungs is too much or the ghost of a heart attack snatches me up.

I think about what colour would suit him; green, brown, blue, black. I think brown would look best on him, a nice deep brown like the colour of tree bark when the sunlight hits it just right so you see all the veins of hazel and chestnut show up against the flat umber. I think his eyes would look like home if I could see them properly, I think his eyes look like home even though I can’t.

Sometimes I think about showing him, I think about looping an arm around his waist and pulling him into me until we’re chest to chest. I think about the expression on his face when I lean in for a kiss, waiting for him to push me away, waiting for him to say he doesn’t want this and him not doing a single thing. I think about how soft his lips would feel, maybe I’d taste the cigarettes he smokes and thinks I don’t know about, maybe he wouldn’t.

I’d show him after we broke the kiss, I’d whip off the stupid glasses I have to wear now and show him what I gave to an entity that never proved himself to me. I’d show him the price of my loyalty and maybe he’d tell me about his past, just something, one little nugget of understanding. Even if he didn’t tell me anything though, I’d tell him about lying there on the cold rooftop and waiting for my death. I’d tell him how scared I was, how much I hated Chin Chin and how much I wanted to die because nothing was worth this pain.

Maybe I’d even tell him about the panicked, frantic dreams I’d wake up from thinking I was still there. Maybe not, might not be something you told friends, even friends as close as Kohe because it was too personal or whatever, I still didn’t know how this worked. Still, the gloves had to be a step in the right direction, right?

When I opened my door and found the glasses in a ziplock bag stuck to my door, I decided that it definitely had to be a step in the right direction. I’d seen the sunglasses in Kohe’s room a few times, they were ray-bans, at least two hundred bucks and I’d never seen him wear them. I knew they had to be related to his past because who the fuck owned shit like this and didn’t do anything with it?

I wore the new shades when I strolled into the kitchen for breakfast and Kohe was wearing the gloves, neither of us said anything but words were never our strong suit. I bumped his hip when I reached past him for the milk and he smiled at me as brightly as I’d ever seen, as anyone had ever seen probably.

And here, in this tiny ass apartment wearing expensive shades and eating knock-off brand cereal with a man who barely spoke but understood a whole bunch, was something that other Frank’d never had. The other Frank had never met Kohe, probably didn’t even know the guy existed which meant at last, at least, here as something that was mine.

It was nice to have things.

ford went to a dimension where vantablack as paint and fabric was in the public domain and he got custom vantablack gloves since it absorbs 99.96% of all visible light and thats how he can conceal his six fingers (like when making a fist) so he cant be identified

Imagine meeting Darling

“Did you hear about the new attraction in town?” One of the waitresses asked as you cleaned the counter off.
“Do you mean the new movie at the theatre?”
“No [Y/N], the freak show.” She whispered.
“Well I can tell you I will not be attending.” I replied.
“Neither will I.” She answered.
“Well why not?” A customer asked, his hands gloved and a cap covering his brown locks, his eyes and smile sparkled as I glanced over to him.
“Well simple they are freaks, they are vile, and disgusting and downright disturbing.” She voiced, causing the smile on his face to fall.
“Well how do you know? Have you ever seen one?”
“Well no, I haven’t, people like them, they just ain’t right.”
“Mary Beth.” You hissed at her, “that is by far the most vile thing I have ever heard.”
“Well it is true.”
“Well why won’t you attend?” He asked, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Simple, I hate how we find the differences of other entertaining. I hate how we treat them differently just because they look different then us. I think it is sad that we live in a society where we can’t just accept everyone for who they are, and we have to create freak shows just to remind us how glad we are to be normal.”
“Now that’s not an answer you hear everyday.” He said.
“Well I mean I think…”
“Mary Beth, go clean some dishes before I drag you back there myself.”
“Fine.” She huffed as she stormed to the back.
“I have to apologize for Mary Beth, she is a fine girl, just doesn’t know when to shut her mouth.”
“It’s fine, I would love to hear some more about you though.”
“Well I mean I am about to go on break, care to join?”
“I would love to but first may I ask one question?”
“Go ahead.” You rested both hand out on either side of you, you looked at him, with curiosity in the eyes.
“Well what do you suggest cherry or apple pie?”


You sat on the bench, a cigarette in hand as The man inside joined you, “you know those are as bad as the hooch?”
“Well then keep ‘em both coming sugar.” You smiled at him, he just giggled and shook his head.
“You know sugar…”
“[Y/N], the name is [Y/N].”
“Well you know something [Y/N], I have never seen someone like you in all my life.”
“Well maybe you looking in the right places.” You took a drag and blew the cloud into the air.
“So tell me mister, what is your name?”
“Jimmy…. Jimmy Darling.”
“So tell me Jimmy, why is it that you care about what we thought of the freak show?”
“Well would you believe me if I told ya?”
“Depends, what’s under the gloves?”
“Well you see my gloves hid the side of me that is judged and ridiculed, Hell they have caused more pain then good.”
“So are you in the show?”
“Lobster Boy himself.” he lifted his cap up a bit and then brought it back down.
“So then why wear the gloves?”
“Let me tell ya a story, we were in in Wisconsin all summer, the boss decided to extend our stay, well when she did that our winter spot fell through causing us to spend all winter there too, which don’t get me wrong, we all loved it, some of the guys even got to see their first snow, however by January we were sick of it. However thoughs few months were the best I ever had, to everyone else I was just a guy wearing some gloves, I got to pretend that I was like every other guy, instead of being the guy who wore gloves all year so that he could be part of the world, go out, talk to women, eat at diners.”
“Diner food can’t be that great?”
“Well I mean, if I didn’t like diner food, I wouldn’t be here, talking to a beautiful woman.”
“Can I see them?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well sweetie, I want to see your hands?”
“Why?”
“Well I want to see them, because I feel like you shouldn’t have to wear the gloves. I think it is terribly unfair that you are forced to wear these gloves because your hands are different and I would like you to be able to just sit here for the next five minutes and not need gloves to feel normal. As far as they know, we are just two people on a bench talking.”
“Well I guess since a pretty girl asked.” He smiled at you, and then slipped the gloves off, revealing his hands.
“Oh my, they are beautiful, how could anyone hate hands like these?”
“Because they are different darling, and different is scary, just like you said. ”
“So what do you like Darling?”
“Well…” And there it started, you sat on that bench and talked like normal people, anything having to do with freaks faded away. Even Jimmy seemed to forget, and by the end of it, you had made a great new friend, named Jimmy Darling.

there are so many things i never got around to writing/sketching out

  • i always wanted to do my own take on a ford who still hasn’t really adjusted (who will never "adjust"; who will always be “out of place”, wherever he goes), not in merely a quirky way without consequence but something that would spill into his interactions with people and require some resolution– but the show presents him so nicely post-weirdmageddon i really can’t bear to touch it. he’s just perfect now, i guess.
  • more about ford’s need for custom gloves and such, i wanted to think abt all those small annoyances and inconveniences that stack up over time and get to be too much
  • i absolutely rly wanted to do something with ford’s return being so fresh, gf being so weird, and the moment he steps into some normal place and makes a few gestures while talking to stanley he’s hit by half a dozen stares and odd looks, all directed at his hands
  • bc right?? what happens to an insecurity that took yrs to melt away, in a figurative sea of weirdness that is worlds beyond our own? elsewhere he was weird – him, the concept of him, his mere existence where he doesn’t belong – isn’t there a comfort to be found there, to be perceived strange not for a physical trait but rather being, itself? knowing that it’s all about context, that he came from a planet full of other humans, and it’s his human-ness that sets him apart now
  • – of course journal 3′s take on the multiverse was a tad disappointing in that regard (and a lot of sci-fi is too tbh,,). aliens nearly always end up as some recolor variation on humanoid, bipedal creatures when there are so many other options out there. i realize that there are budget limits but this is text; the only limit is your imagination. but i digress.
  • i really wanted to do something that presented the alt universe where ford was never pushed into the portal as just another possibility – no better, no worse than the canon one. half of it being i didn’t want to consider ford regretting things and being occasionally sad abt what he’s ended up with, the other half being can you really measure if one is better than the other?
  • i recently attempted to write some statement abt ford and his affinity for either theoretical or experimental work and couldn’t come to a conclusion. everything in me is saying experiment is the most obvious, his house was covered w em, but who’s to say that wasn’t fiddleford? sure ford made a perpetual motion machine and that mind control tie, but what if those were just necessary demonstrations, proofs of concept, and the true elegance, the true purity, the true joy can be found in pure math and proofs and unrealistic theoretical situations?–
  • –my real question is, did ford spend most of his time thinking, and, after finding himself in the multiverse, have to transition into actually making? i realize now that that’s kinda far from the theory/experiment thing.
  • i wanted to write, like, at least a decent paragraph or two just riffing off of ford’s multiple mentions of mistakes and regrets in the journal but then i paused and asked myself, do i really? or do i just want him to casually mention it a lot like, nbd, and lowkey worry his loved ones months and years after he should’ve forgiven himself. and the answer was, probably the latter tbh
5

Ok! So here’s my “LANDLORD IS SELLING THE HOUSE WERE RENTING” raffle

Basically my landlords father died and he’s selling the house. It’s getting appraised in about 10 days. All of this was dropped into my lap at 8 am this morning!

I am holding a raffle to generate some funds for deposits and moving costs

-each entry is $2 and you can enter as many times as you’d like through the donate button on my page!

-once we received enough funds for deposits (depending on where we end up anywhere from $500-900) the raffle will be drawn

BUT WHAT DO WE WIN?

A WHOLE PRIZE PACK MADE BY YOURS TRULY!
Includes a custom scoodie, gloves, AND crystal necklace and earring set!!

Not to bad!

So donate $10 receive your name in the raffle five times!

Sounds good?!?
Signal boost!
Thank you loves!