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Researchers at Imperial College London have genetically engineered bacteria to grow animal- and plastic-free leather that dyes itself. In recent years, scientists and companies have started using microbes to grow sustainable textiles or to make dyes for industry -- but this is the first time bacteria have been engineered to produce a material and its own pigment simultaneously. Synthetic chemical dyeing is one of the most environmentally toxic processes in fashion, and black dyes -- especially those used in colouring leather -- are particularly harmful. The researchers at Imperial set out to use biology to solve this. In tackling the problem, the researchers say their self-dyeing vegan, plastic-free leather, which has been fashioned into shoe and wallet prototypes, represents a step forward in the quest for more sustainable fashion.

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How to hybrid BJDs

Done tap-dancing. Here's a how-to.

Research, research, research. Looking at measurements offered by companies might be helpful, but it depends upon where they measure. Neck measurements might be at the neck opening, or they might be at the base of the neck, and frequently, the only way you find it is when you get the body, and crap - the head doesn't fit.

erm, no

2. Plan for one of the parts (head or body) to be blushed or dyed to match the other. Generally, it's easier to get a lighter head and blush it to match the body. That's what Ducmon (popular face-up artist) does:

My first hybrid was actually a butter-yellow Angel of Dream body that I dyed using the dezombification serum, followed up by my very first body blushing.

yeah, I post this pic a lot. Cuz I love it.

2a. Invest in chalk pastels, acrylic and/or airbrush paints, and sealant. And when I say "invest," I don't mean go run out and spend $10 on a single pot of Pan Pastels. Don't get me wrong - Pan Pastels are amazing. Highly pigmented, deposit lots of color, and easy to use. However, plenty of face-up artists use cheap old chalk pastels. You'll just have to build color with layers.

those are some crapazon pastels, I'm telling you

2b. Yes, you can buy expensive artist-quality brushes, but know what else works just fine? Make-up and nail art brushes. In fact, nail art brushes - the kind you can buy in packs of 5 for a buck or 2 at the dollar store - are the best brushes for those super thin eyelash/eyebrow lines.

or just spend $2 and get everything in one batch - image from Temu

2c. When in doubt, Zaoll. Seriously. Dollmore Zaoll heads seem to work with everything. I kinda kid, but also, not kidding. Zaoll heads are great because they are a face-plate style head that sits on top of the neck, so they perch on just about everything. Also - Dollmore constantly sells random heads for at least half-off in their "Special Sale" section. I had 4 - I recently sold one.

Zaoll on a Mirodoll body

Zaoll on a DF-A 58 cm body

Zaoll on a 65-cm Supia double-jointed body

3. Paint/blush/dye to match. And you're done!

Ha ha ha. This is actually the hardest part - but it is possible. If you don't get the color you want on the first round, either wipe and start over, or spray sealant and add another layer of color. Oh, and something I learned from matching a body to a head - move the doll into different areas/under different lighting. Something that looks like a perfect match under cool, white lighting might look completely different under a warmer, yellower light.

oops - need more color...

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Advent Day V ~ It's Beginning to Look @corinnebaileyrp

With the lights dimmed and the doors locked anyone with half a brain would notice that the shop is closed but it doesn't stop Beth from gently tapping on the glass. The night is cold but she stamps her booted feet and seems momentarily delighted by the dampness in the air. Maybe in the next couple of days there will be snow. Or at the very least rain. Which on glass might turn into the very same lacy patterns she hopes to flock onto the insides of Cory's windows. At her feet is a suitcase roughly her same size that has stencils she's made, white paint with an assortment of pigment dyes in both glitter and non glitter, making tape, newspapers, everything she could think of to bring with her. Even tiny brushes and washable wall-crayons. Tonight is just the two of them and they're going to decorate the shop for the holidays. Cory lets her in with that glowing smile of hers and Beth can't help but throw her arms around her friend's neck with a girlish glee and kisses her cheek. Beth feels a little like ice but she'll live. The shop itself is warm and the smell of proofing bread and the day's pastries wafts toward her on a cloud of steam from a freshly brewing pot of coffee for them. Can Beth smell the difference between beans? Absolutely. Is Cory making them a pot of Jamaican Blue Mountain as a splurge, absolutely yes. And the little nurse is truly grateful. "Dat smell so sexy, I might change religion," she murmurs almost under her breath and is rewarded by the laugh Cory bestows on her. They both know Andy would have a lot to unpack with that statement and they spend a few moments mocking the missing man. They make quick work of covering the tables and floors so any mess makes for easy recycling. Cory has some ornaments and ribbons to make wreaths. And a gorgeously curated instrumental playlist. She tells Beth she's glad for the company, thanks her for the help and Beth nods. Cory knows she could just as easily do this with her fantastic employees but this is more personal. Beth knows she's an artist who doesn't share her work with many. Sometimes she wonders if Andy knows about Cory's sketchbooks. No real fault of his if he doesn't. Just makes the secret shared all that much more special in Beth's mind.

Cory works on the first wreath while Beth paints blue-white snow-drifts on the first window. "It was Christmas Eve, Babe In the drunk tank An old man said to me, won't see another one And then he sang a song…" Beth belts away, though she isn't half the musician that her brother is, but she stops and turns and raises a brow when Cory picks up where she left off. They take turns, until the last verse and suddenly both women are arm in arm, serenading the shop. "...The boys of the NYPD choir Still singing Galway Bay And the bells are ringing out For Christmas day."

oh, brilliant and pigment??

brilliant - hmmm i'm a plus size girlie so i've always been compared to any plus size actress/celeb, most of the time as a joke. there's this one notable reporter here in our country, her name is jessica soho, my friends told me during grad pic day that i looked like her though if i'm being honest, we don't really look alike.

pigment - ohh i love this!! so my hair color is deepest brunette, almost black actually, but when i'm outside and the sunlight shines on my hair, it has this shade of chestnut brown ^^ i've always, and i say ALWAYS wanted to dye my hair to cherry blossom pink, dark sea green, and dark blue. but one day maybe, when i move out. my parents are kinda strict and they don't want me to dye my hair to "outrageous colors". and maybe when my supervisor gives me the go signal, because the company is also strict (^^;) for now, i'm living my life through picrews XD

Fruitfall

She was glad when the druids arrived. Anais of Luquoit was not known for her dependence on other people - far from it, after forging a reputation as a quester of renown throughout the Southern Regions - but, after narrowly dispatching a swarm of rosewraiths on her own, she was coming to question that approach. She couldn't keep doing this on her own. She'd barely kept doing it today.

Anais had been a legend in her own lifetime. The vanquisher of the Barholk. The saviour of Pa Garrin. When she was younger, she'd set out to put the world to rights, and wouldn't have dreamt of asking anybody else for help. She was her own squire, her own healer, and her left eye kept watch whilst her right eye fell asleep. But, after a while, the lifetime became more important than the legend. She figured that it might be good for someone else to have her back - before something less friendly took her head.

"Well met, sister of the sky," she said, noting that the druids were clad in pale blue robes. There were so many different sects, each with their own specific titles and modes of address, but it never hurt to take a stab in the dark. After all, that was how she'd slain the Carnotaur of Asise. "May a thousand raindrops cleanse the river of your life."

"We are a forest people," the lead druid corrected her, but with what she thought was the hint of a smile. "Although I appreciate that yours is a common mistake. We simply chose the blue dye in response to a boon from our goddess, who honoured us with a bequest of fallen woad leaves. Green would have been more appropriate for our chapter, I understand, but that would sadly be impossible. We are grateful for whatever the goddess provides"

"Impossible?" Anais was suddenly curious, in spite of her own pain - she'd been travelling alone for many nights, and had been as starved of interesting company as she was in need of medical supplies. "I must have seen green robes before, when I've spent time with other travellers. In fact, I'm certain of it."

"You might well have, but not amongst our number," the druid replied. "As you may not be aware, a solid green colour requires an overdye with yellow weld - a plant that must be cut before it flowers, in order to obtain a viable pigment. We are not willing to do so. Our order take a vow to take no life of plant or beast, and live only upon the fallen; the gifts that our goddess provides. We will not deprive the world of a flower, just to adorn these false petals of our robes."

"Right, of course." At this point, Anais would have nodded along to any creed that came written on bandages. With her own undershirt now dyed a faint red with blood, any druids at all were a sight for sore wounds. "What's your stance on healing herbs? Bindings, poultices, that sort of thing?"

The druid looked her up and down, as if noticing the stains for the first time. "My apologies - I hadn't realised your injuries were so severe. Please, do accompany us back to our home, and I will see what we can do. Perhaps it's fortunate that we found each other when we did."

It certainly felt that way. Anais had taken blows before, but she couldn't remember ever losing quite so much of her own blood. She'd been drenched in the stuff on previous quests, and spent many an evening wringing it out of her clothes in the next river she came across, but that had all been Carnotaur or Barholk in origin. Being slick with her own supply was worrying, and she was already starting to feel light-headed as she limped her way along.

The rosewraiths had been small, that had been the problem - they really hadn't seemed like too great of a threat, but their claws had been as sharp as thorns, and there had been so many of them by the time the fighting stopped. They'd nicked her in a dozen different joins between her mail, but it had been her left flank that had born the worst of the damage. Anais found herself clutching her side as they walked, feeling the blood continuing to ooze out between her fingers.

"Here." The lead druid had found a fallen branch strewn in their path, and passed it to her other hand. "For the limp. As I said, the goddess always provides."

"Thank you." Anais marvelled at this attitude, for one who must live in even greater scarcity than her. "I have to say, I admire your approach. There must be times when it is difficult to be reliant on gifts, and you must have great patience to hold firm and trust that they will come."

"We are merely very fortunate," the druid said. "Whenever we are in need, the goddess blesses us with something more. Game animals die before our eyes, leaving their hides and meat for us to make best use of. Ripe fruit drop whole from the trees, and trees themselves lie fallen in our path: offered up, for us to take what we need, and leave the rest for the soil."

Their temple was a case in point. It had been formed around their makeshift altar, a reclaimed boulder worn away into a flat surface, in the way that fig vines wrap around a trunk, or lichens cluster on a stone. Willow had been woven into huts around that centrepiece, a campfire in a hollow to the east, another large enclosure to the west. The temple itself was a mosaic of different plants, some living, some dead, entwined into leaf-tiled walls and an arched canopy roof.

The druid called out orders as they arrived, asking her followers to stoke a fire and boil a pan of cleansing water, fetch herbs to treat the flesh, finding twine to bind the open wounds and a flint to cut her undershirt away. She helped Anais up to the altar, a relatively flat and sterile treatment table, then ducked away to fetch some supplies of her own, with the promise to return.

She would, in time. They all would. But for now, they watched Anais catching her breath, resting her head against the stone, slowly drifting out of consciousness. The druids had seen it all before, and they'd learnt to be patient: that was the nature of their order, as she'd told Anais, although it wasn't always as easy as she'd said. They were bloodless hunters, soldiers of fortune, always reliant on time to make the sacrifice for them. It could be a hard life, and they did often go hungry as they waited for a gift to stumble willingly into their midst - but sooner or later, one way or another, the goddess always did seem to provide.