knitted wire


I don’t think I ever posted pictures of my costume entry for the Realm of the Elderlings cosplay contest back in October! So here’s that; I was really jazzed about making the charging buck patch and the earring more than anything, so while I was at it I combed Assassin’s Apprentice for every single description of Fitz’s clothing I could find. The outfit was kind of a mishmash of several different descriptions (one of a blue jerkin, one of Fitz complaining about his sleeves being too voluminous, and then the charging buck and “blue stone caught in a bit of net” obviously). That plus some period research got me this!

I used period techniques as much as possible (those cloth buttons took me forever….). The patch was made using the Bayeux stitch with a satin stitched buck on top, and the earring is a Lapis Lazuli bead inside some Viking wire knitting. The lighting was a little yellow for shooting the outfit on the form; the true colors are the ones in the close-up of the patch. I was really happy with how it all came out!


So, we’re cleaning out the garage and my mother finds this nifty little health book

it’s a heart health book to aid mother’s with ill, bed-ridden children who have heart problems

Specifically Rheumatic Fever.

You wanna know who suffered from Rheumatic fever when he was a frail, sickly little kid?

Originally posted by dailyevanstan

Originally posted by freakzter

(GIFs not mine) yup.  Steven Grant Rogers.

As stated in the forward, Rheumatic fever is a heart problem that causes the patient to have to spent DAYS possibly WEEKS in their beds.  This would get quite boring for anyone, especially children.  Luckily, this book provides some constructive activities for children to do in bed while they heal.  Including….

Drawing.  Yes, drawing.  Now this book was published way after Steve went under the ice.

almost a decade, to be exact.  But, these methods were most likely used during the 20′s, 30′s and 40′s as well as the swell ol’ 50′s.  Meaning…

Steve is an artist because he was bed-ridden with Rheumatic fever as a child.  Drawing was probably the activity chosen by his mother for him to do.  This book had other suggestions like ceramics, knitting, and wire sculpture.  But, drawing was the least dangerous (consider pre-serum Steve was the one suffering and how many other illnesses he suffered from) and was the least expensive.

After Steve recovered, he probably just liked drawing and picked it up as a hobby.

Anyway, there’s your daily fandom history lesson.


oh for the love of… see this? this is what procrastination looks like. i finished this shawl on april 21, 2015* and it has since languished in my catchall yarn and projects bins since i haven’t felt like blocking it and now i’m going to do it - i’m going to block this but gosh if i haven’t made this a monster in my mind - all those leaves! but it will be worth it after because this is such a gorgeous pattern - will post pics of progress!

*you don’t understand - it took me fifteen days to knit this and over two years to get around to blocking! in retrospect, april of 2015 was when i graduated uni so i think this was knit around finals and out of a drunken euphoria of finishing school


Happy Friday folks! This past week I finally -finally- finished this necklace. This had a long trip from mind to metal, starting out with just the Rebel Starbird pendant. Eventually I decided it would be a good idea to weave a metric ton of Viking knit for the rest of the necklace (it’s really only about forty yards of wire, I promise) and here’s the end result! It’s very tied into the aesthetics of Star Wars and Tatooine particularly, but I like to think it holds up even outside those associations.

Twin Suns Setting necklace - Copper, copper, some more copper, labradorite, even more copper.

Check it out on my Etsy site -

S02E18 - “Profit and Loss”

Net fashion in this episode: not a lot! If you can’t go broad, go deep…

I need a cloaking device and an ironing board

I like Natima’s dress. It’s futuristic without getting too weird, and it looks great on her. I think it’s all one piece, and the layered-look at the neckline and sleeves are sewn in.

I just have two issues with it: it’s jersey. AKA stretchy t-shirt fabric. Which means a) how in hell is that neckline staying in place without stretching? wire? and b) one wash and alllll those lovely pleats are going to look like spaghetti.

Trill spots got nothin’ on me

I believe this is the first time we’ve seen a Cardassian with exposed skin below the neck! The forehead divot is repeated on the sternum, and the scaley texture goes down into the cleavage. I… okay. Jersey would not be my choice if my body was ridgy.

(Note: this screencap is from halfway through the show or so, and the pleats are already starting to lose containment.)

These boots were made for REVOLUTION

Just a quick shot of Natima’s high-heeled ankle boots. As with everyone else in this universe, her shoes match her stockings match her dress. If I were on the run from an oppressive military regime, I *might* select shoes I could actually RUN in. They’re cute, though.

What ties up hair, alone or in pairs, and makes Cardassians frown?

Her hair looks amazing, especially considering it’s done with spooled wire and knitting needles. The first time she turned around on the stairs she almost whacked the shit out of Quark with it. Everyone knows it’s Slinky!

Are you pondering what I’m pondering?

We segue from Natima to her students (or “students”, I could never tell if that was meant to be the truth or a cover story), Hogue and Rekelen.

Rekelen’s dress is along the same style lines as Natima’s, with the pseudo-shrug layer (although hers might actually be a real shrug.) I can’t tell if the stretch-velvet sleeves are attached (in which case velvet + linen is kind of a weird fabric choice) or if they’re separate arm warmers (I have some purple ones like that).

Hogue seems to be in a suit made of torn crochet over more linen. A sign of solidarity with Bajor, maybe?

I think so, Brain, but you’re not actually *from* Nantucket

On closer inspection, Rekelen’s shrug is some kind of brocade or tone-on-tone embroidered satin. Making the combination that much weirder. It kinda works, though. Hogue’s torn crochet sleeves lead to a torso covered with some kind of knit apron without straps, like he’s auditioning for Iron Chef Bajor.

I’m joining the rebellion ‘cause I know it’s my chance
To socially advance instead of sewin’ some pants

We’ve seen this outfit on Garak before, but this is a nice shot of the structured design detail on the front.

In the background, Garak seems to be selling an I Ching suit.

To the revolution!

We close with a shot of everyone’s hemlines. Garak and Hogue have your basic slacks, although Hogue’s got some stompy Herman Munster looking shoes there. Quark’s got your classic Bajoran stretch-pants-tucked-in-ankle-boots look. Natima’s got a handkerchief hemline to show off those granny boots. Rekelen surprises me by having not a dress but a split tunic over leggings (velvet again; maybe what’s under there is an orange velvet unitard.) And what appear to be Nog’s funky boots from a few episodes back. We have a winner!

That’s it for now. May all your fashion endeavors be profitable! 

Susanna Carolina Dunn: Graduate Final Collection 2013

1st Class Hons: Nottingham Trent University

Collection inspired by Nick Veasey’s x ray photography that exposes the internal construction of objects. Custom designed jacquards created on hacked domestic knitting machine combine copper wire and tactile yarns to create translucency through disintegrating structures.

Galley: Dream

You’re wandering around inside yourself. Without shoes on, your feet make odd noises that echo through the perfectly polished steel corridors of this place. Having never been inside a ship that you could explore, you touch the walls with your hands and marvel at how solid they are, how the burning lines of light that make up your model of the thing within your modified brain also exist as cold smooth metal beneath your skin. The thing is a double fact.

You wonder why you’re being permitted to walk so freely.

“Hi there, hardware!” LL says over the intercom. “Looking good! I like how you stand that burned match of a body straight up like it can still even burn. Have you been working out?”

“X don’t understand the wexrd clown metaphor,” you try to say, but all you produce is a hoarse bark. You must have finally screamed yourself mute.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that!” LL says. You frown and try to speak again. It’s no good.

“He’s just shy,” another voice says. You recognize Bel immediately. “They’re always shy on their first helmcation. You should try calling him ‘sweetness’ like I do.”

“No way,” LL responds. “My lemonbro only got one flavor, and it ain’t perfume.”

“Perfume is not a flavor,” Bel replies, sharply. “You’ll be demoted for that.”

“Not if I demote you first,” LL gives Bel a light slap you can hear clearly through the hum of machinery. “Galley, bro, get your sizzly upright matchstick ass up to the bridge. We’re under attack again. Did you remember to dress?”

Not this shit again. You had been hoping to avoid this part of the story. You look down at yourself and see half a mile of medals pinned to your crisp new captain’s uniform. You croak a noise of dismay.

“Looking good,” LL and Bel say, in unison. “Now hurry up!”

You want to say you screwed up, you’re not wearing shoes, but you can’t. You pick up your pace, running lightly up the corridor to the room marked SELF-DETERMINATION STATION. All of the letters you hate have been crossed out with black X marks. You are grimly pleased that they remembered to customize the bridge just for you. Inside, LL and Bel dangle from matching helmscolumns. As you enter, they cheer. “SURPRXSE!” they both shout. “The Condesce upgraded your shxp!”

You gape. They’ve both been completely integrated–holistic interface–arms and legs dissolved down to nerve tissue and arteries, knitted into the wires and cables of the helmscolumn, completely overgrown. Bel’s horns have been removed and thick cables snake from the pits they left behind. LL’s hair has been pulled taut and sewn into the column around her head in a halo, held in place by fibrous brown-purple tendrils that look like the root snarls of an uprooted tree in a deadly forest ravine somewhere. You see that her face is covered in dirt, and she is crying.

No, not crying. Bleeding. The sockets are raw and purple and inflamed, and set in each is a port, just healing, with nothing plugged into them. They stare at you, blind silver coins. “They took my eyes, Galley,” she sobs. “They took my eyes so X could see to fly you anywhere you want to go.”

“We’re free!” Bel adds, and struggles like a glitching video game character.

You turn to run, but the door has been sealed. All that’s left is a poster-sized photo of your moirail and matesprit being installed by maintenance staff. Their faces are twisted into twin shrieking skulls, and written across the bottom, under their hanging bodies, are candy-red words:


You wake up flailing, with sopor down your throat and in your lungs, trying to cough it out so you can scream.