Love is in the air! Between March 1 and 8 Romanian men offer martisoare (trinkets / jewellery with a white-read thread) to women as gifts. Women wear the martisor all March to bring strength and health. It’s a wonderful and very old Romanian tradition.
Photos from my ko-fi page which illustrate the work I do when I’m not writing fanfic, and to show the goal I’m aiming for in setting up my workshop at home. I make jewellery (sterling ring top left, as well as chainmaille jewellery [not all maille shirts for reenactors but actual chains made of jump rings]), I’m studying traditional Japanese metalwork (tsuba [sword guard] top right) which involves learning carving and inlay techniques (that one is mild steel with a pure iron inlaid ginkgo leaf, while the left hand side is deliberately carved to look corrosion), and I also restore and conserve metalwork. The photo on the bottom is a ‘before and after’ of a late 19th century ‘nunome-zogan’ (cloth weave overlay, like damascene) cigarette case made for export from Japan.
Thought you guys might like to see a bit of what I do when I’m not writing, because it’s a bit unusual :).
Here is a blue Tritium stick sealed in another glass vial secured in silver tone “window” setting. Tritium sticks will glow for 10 to 15 years without the need of “charging” like regular glow in the dark pigment powders. It is currently used in high-end watches, keyrings and gun sights - anything that needs to be seen at night. I decided to go with silver tone components because it complements the blow glow. Just as important as the Tritium is the mechanical looking part it’s hanging from. I was attempting to evoke a geared mechanical pulley assemblage with components found in the hardware store mixed with traditional jewellery findings.
I make in the steampunk genre but I wouldn’t classified as steampunk. To me it’s futuristic with an alien artefact feel to it. If you are interested in buying this you can find it on ebay here.
N/A: This my entry for the FT Fanfics Halloween event on Tumblr. When I got the prompt, I thought this must be a smut because frankly, I would be disappointed if I saw that and it wasn’t (and why pass up the opportunity).
Innocents be warned this is a smut, so if you feel like you will be scarred for life reading smut then this fic is not for you. To my lovely followers and fellow NaLu fans, this is for you. I hope you enjoy the descent into sinful goodness (I did huhu).
p.s. I wasn’t sure how to finish, so I decide to end it on a high ;)
Lucy couldn’t believe her luck. In the world of magic, the All Hallows Eve gathering was the place to be. It was a night high in etherion, so the elite of the world hosted spectacular balls. Invitation to these events was gold dust to a small-time witch, whose dream was to become a paranormal reporter for Sorcerer’s Weekly. Levy had come through for her last minute with a proposition “Lu-chan, Gajeel refuses to go the banquet tonight, but I am not going to miss this! I mean we’ll get to see major players in the supernatural world and no too cool for school attitude will stop me. So, you coming?” A redundant question to Lucy who had been trying to find a way in for years, luck didn’t factor when it came to the high security. To explain in more detail, the parties provided the best networking opportunities, chances at her dream job that would prove impossible without some serious backing.
Everything was competitive, it wasn’t what you knew, it was who you knew when climbing the social ladder. Frustration wasn’t the word for how she felt graduating from magic school with first class honours, it should have secured her place in the world, or it would have at least in the human world but that wasn’t the case here. It was a prehistoric society filled with prejudice and archaic customs, where new magic individuals were looked down on by those born into their power. New magic meant humans who had a high spirit power but had to learn the arcane, the born are beings of legend to the unaware human world. Many of these beings blending in with the growing human populace, adapting to the ever-changing surroundings of the modern world in human form. Unless you had a trained eye, born were nigh on impossible to spot.