Con-fessions of a Cosplayer

(Content warning: Some mentions of terrorism and the Covid-19 pandemic.)

Grimslough Comic Con. Like most small-town Comic Cons, it was never much to write home about. It was held in our local shopping centre, St Johns, and each year attracted mostly men who were really into comics and games, and a few troublemakers looking to bother them. Walking around, you'd see a dozen Spiderguys, Thundertroopers, and Batwings in any direction - their costumes usually carefully-handcrafted. But every once in a while, you might spy a couple kids in cheap polycotton Halloween costumes found in any supermarket with a clothing line. Fake padded abs, pulled Velcro, and trailing pull cords would make any experienced cosplayer cringe.

As for me, I would say that I was a practiced cosplayer, but not necessarily a good one. I was one of the few girls there, and every year, I made my costume from scratch - with my limited sewing skills, acrylic paint, and paper maché. And for reasons that were not yet clear to me, I was determined to keep my costumes as obscure as possible.

I'd been thirteen in my first year, and gone with a few friends from high school. The main attraction for our friendship was a collective passion for the anime, Samurai Ghost-Hunters. It was mostly seen as a right-of-passage anime for teens of our age, like Dead Book, or Kitsune Ninjas, and was conveniently the only one to air on terrestrial TV for us kids whose parents couldn't afford satellite. That year, one of the voice actors for the dub was scheduled to make an appearance, so we'd all agreed to go.

I had been the only one who'd decided to show up in costume. Despite our shared love for the franchise, my friends thought it childish to play dress-up at our age. Then again, they were the type of girls who worried about makeup, boyfriends, and smartphones, while my greatest concern was not having a complete set of cat-themed stationary.

In my (looking back) rather pathetic naivety, I had gone full fangirl over the one other cosplayer who'd dressed as another character from the anime. Being the weird nerdy me, I'd dressed as a character from the original manga, one who'd actually been cut from the anime. They'd dressed as Guildmaster Kaito - a minor, yet still key character from the anime, and I'd tailed them around the entire convention. They must have thought I was some creepy stalker, if they'd noticed me at all.

That was the year I fell in love with Comic Cons and cosplay in general. It was my thing - at a time I was experiencing all the anxieties of being a typical nerdy teenager, Comic Con was the one time of year I let myself get genuinely excited for something, instead of pretending to like the same boring stuff as everyone else.

My cosplay back then hadn't been much more than a hand-sewn pair of flared trousers (adapted from an everyday clothing pattern), a pair of sandals, and a dressing gown. I must have looked ridiculous, and to this day, I'm glad I convinced those friends not to take any pictures - mostly because they tried to avoid me all day.

After that first year, I went with those same friends as part of our annual tradition. Each cosplay I wore became progressively more custom-made, and more obscure. A character from a French anime, a rainbow horse-girl in an outfit only seen for a few minutes in one movie, a lesser-known creature from a monster-catching game, and another manga-only character from a certain titan-slaying anime.

It was all part of a master strategy - one even I hadn't managed to figure out yet. Now that I'm older, I'm more aware of what I truly intended by it. I wanted people to talk to me. I was around strangers that could actually have had something in common with me - more than I did even with my own friends... But I didn't want my picture taken. If you go to Comic Con dressed as a popular character from a major franchise - everyone will want your photo. Well, as an insecure teenager, I hated the way my body looked, and, in turn, hated being photographed. But if I went dressed as something very few people would recognise, most just asked who I was, smiled, then walked away - what I called a perfect interaction.

I didn't spend much time at those events during the early years, and I wasn't completely conscious of how much they meant to me. That was, until they stopped. There was a brief era where my country entered a terrifying and dangerous period - where it seemed acts of terrorism were conducted in public places every other week. All major gatherings, even small-town Comic Conventions like Grimslough, were cancelled.

In school, part of our education became devoted to teaching us what to do if we were attacked. People learned to keep distanced and suspicious of one another. There were kids in my year who had friends whom had been at targeted events. Everyone knew a friend of a friend whose cousin had been killed or injured. Life became truly scary.

During those years, my friends and I drifted apart. After high school came college, and though we ended up going together, they found themselves new friends. Comic Con finally came back in 2018 - with metal detectors at the door, and I had gone alone. I'd invited classmates - people who shared more common interests with me, but they all lived in distant cities too far to travel for the sake of minor gatherings.

In 2019, I didn't go at all.

And then the pandemic happened. Once again, events like Comic Con just stopped. I spent those years missing it the most. I'd regretted the one year I'd not gone, spending my days dreaming of cosplays I could make. I didn't care if I went on my own, I didn't care if no-one talked to me. I needed that joy in my life again.

I wanted to go bigger than ever before. I was determined to improve on my obscurity by looking to online writing forums. Most contributors were from the US, and posted fan fictions of more popular media (usually just an excuse to write love stories between themselves and particular characters). But there was one original story that did catch my interest. It had very few views, and no likes. 'Tower of Secrets' was a high-fantasy novella collection following the adventures of Moondew Starcloud - a fey-born witch with a draconic familiar, and her ongoing struggle against the evil Lord Rotskull. It was a classic enemies-to-lovers story that I usually hated, yet there was something so charming about the worldbuilding that kept me wanting more.

I left a like, and messaged the author asking when the next volume would be out. They didn't reply, but someone else did.

MarshmellowQueen11: "I love this series too! I thought I was the only one."

Their name was so silly, I just assumed they must have been a kid. They'd have to have been at least fourteen to open an account with the website - otherwise I'd have been very concerned of the kind of content they were reading. Still, polite conversations with strangers I would never have to meet again was, apparently, my thing.

Me: "You haven't 'liked' it though."

The 'like' count immediately increased to two.

MarshmellowQueen11: "No... I was a little embarrassed. I didn't want to be the first, haha."

Me: "I don't know why, but something about it keeps me reading."

MarshmellowQueen11: "Right?! I'm sure it's the worldbuilding. It's so Fischer and Gibson."

I'm sure I audibly gasped and inched a little closer to my laptop. "You've read Dragonleaf too?"

MarshmellowQueen11: "Yeah! It's like my all-time favourite series!"

I quoted, "My friends, gather your wits and sharpen your steel..."

MarshmellowQueen11: "Dragonleaf awaits! To destiny!"

I laughed aloud, though simply added a 'joy' emoji to the chat. They responded with three.

Me: "It's so dumb!"

MarshmellowQueen11: "So dumb! But that's what makes it great!"

And we talked for hours, passing messages, memes and emojis back and forth. I surmised from our communications that they may have been around my age. Eventually, we got chatting about Comic Con. We never mentioned where we lived - I guess both of us were concerned about safety; after all, we were still strangers talking over the internet.

Me: "I love dressing as really obscure characters."

MarshmellowQueen11: "Me too! Then nobody asks for a picture..."

Me: "They just ask who you're dressed as."

MarshmellowQueen11: "Exactly!"

We filled the comments section with our discussion - I imagine likely to the annoyance of the original writer, but we were sure to compliment the story as often as we could. And after an hour, I came to a decision.

Me: "My town is finally going to start doing Comic Con again this year. I want to cosplay as Moondew."

MarshmellowQueen11: "Yeah? Well, I think I'll go as Rotskull. In the later volumes, he really starts to open up to Moondew. I like his character arc, it's sweet."

Me: "Yeah... If only we could go together, to a bigger convention as well."

MarshmellowQueen11: "I couldn't afford it. (Pensive emoji)."

Me: "Neither could I..."

I probably could, but I hated the logistics of planning something so big. Also, this was still a stranger, no matter how much we had in common.

I didn't realise how late it had gotten. Though I wanted to send them another means of contact, I knew better than to post any personal information on a public forum. We wrapped up with our goodbyes, yet part of me wondered if I'd ever talk to them again.

***

Comic Con was just two weeks away. I'd rushed around the fabric shop for cheap offcuts, then begun drafting some patterns. I'd been at it long enough that I could put one together without referring to existing patterns in my collection.

Any extra bits for props came from the internet. I made Moondew's dragon like a hand puppet so I could move the mouth and make it blink, then his tail draped over my shoulder. That took me the longest to finish - I was still working on it on the morning of the convention to make sure the weight of it wouldn't make it roll off my arm. The face paint was the most fun to do - Moondew had a string of runes down the side of her face that glowed under the full moon, so glow in the dark paint would have to do. It had been so difficult finding blue paint instead of the typical yellowish-green, and therefore the most expensive part of the costume.

But it was worth it when I stood before my bedroom mirror, dressed in her full regalia. I'd studied the series tirelessly to make sure I got every detail perfect - at least to my own interpretation.

I drove to the convention a little after it had started - it had taken much longer than I'd thought to get those final touches done. Driving in the costume felt a little treacherous - I was glad there wasn't much traffic that day. I arrived, bought my wristband, and headed in.

It was loud - the shopping centre's high ceiling carried the echoes of a hundred voices like the stands of an amphitheatre. It felt more crowded than it actually was. The bulk of the mass was vendor's stands lining the hall - most selling custom prints that were definitely not licensed. The existing shops did their best to encourage patrons as well - advertising sales on their best-selling items for one day only, and cafe's offered one free coffee or water to those in costume.

I wandered around for a bit on my own. None of my friends could be there, and nobody from work had cared about coming along either. I was sure to browse around first - checking everything that was on offer and making a mental note of how much I was prepared to spend, and what I was interested in buying. There were some amazing themed glass goblets I was particularly drawn to, though I couldn't help worry about them breaking before I got back to my car.

Over the hours, I attended a few of the meet-and-greets with minor local celebrities and comic artists, a drawing contest (that I spectacularly lost), and finally, the cosplay competition. I wasn't expecting to win - the judges always went for the most recognisable cosplay over the most obscure. There was a lot of talent on offer for them to see. I lined up to be judged, and when my turn came, I climbed onto the stage. The announcer offered me a microphone.

With the stage lights upon me, the audience beyond sat in darkness - with their fantastical silhouettes breaking up the blacks and greys.

"Hi..." I stuttered and cleared my throat. "I'm cosplaying as Moondew Starcloud from Tower of Secrets." There were blank stares from the judges, and a muted yet polite applause from the audience. As I was about to step off, I heard someone cry out from the gloom.

"My friends, gather your wits and sharpen your steel!"

I gulped, my face flushed in the spotlight. I tried to focus my gaze to see into the crowd. "Dragonleaf awaits? To destiny?"

Finally I saw. Standing at the back of the room - Lord Rotskull. I handed the microphone back and rushed off stage, edging my way through the crowd to find them. They met me part-way. "Are you MarshmellowQueen11?"

"Yeah! Who else would come as Rotskull?" They lifted their mask - which was expertly moulded from craft foam and hand-painted.

I finally got to meet them. They were taller than me, probably a few years older, and easy on the eyes. I found myself beaming.

"This is great! I didn't know you lived in Grimslough. Heck (I said instead of hell, because children were present), I assumed you were American."

"Nah mate, born and raised just an hour away - I used to come here every year."

"When was the last time you were here? Maybe I've seen you around before?"

"Um..." They thought for a while. "2012, I think. I was dressed as Guildmaster Kaito from Samurai Ghost-Hunters..." My face became hot, and I imagine, bright red. "Yeah, some weird kid followed me around the whole convention."

"Oh boy." My painted skin suddenly grew itchy, and my entire costume felt like I was trapped in a bin bag. "I think... I was that weird kid."

They tilted their head and narrowed their eyes at me. "Well, I mean, you're at Comic Con - we're all weird kids."

"Yeah?" A calming chill washed over me.

"I think I tailed a Ring Legion group in my first year because I'd come dressed as a Hexwraith - only true book fans knew who I was." They scratched at the back of their neck. "They didn't care - after all, isn't it great that more kids are getting involved with this kind of thing?"

I looked around the room at all the children in cosplay. Come to think of it, there were a lot more than there were in my first year there. On further inspection, I was surprised just how diverse the audience had become. It wasn't mostly men, there was a good balance of people of all genders and ages. "Yeah, that's true... The people I used to come here with never dressed up."

They shrugged. "And people used to think these events were just for weird basement-dwelling men who refused to grow up. Now look at it."

I couldn't deny it - no one could. What people used to think was nerdy and niche was now mainstream. An entire family came dressed as Thundertroopers, strangers gathered together to perform the Spiderguy meme, and kids dressed as Battlémons play-fought with each other. The non-cosplayers didn't spend the day avoiding cosplayers. I saw groups of teenagers get involved in some of the games set up for kids, and actually had fun playing instead of trying to ruin it for everyone. Vendors let children play with their merchandise rather than hiding it out of reach. People were kind, and friendly. I even recognised a few people from my local community there enjoying themselves - some I'd gone to school with, those who used to tease me and my friends for liking that type of thing.

Myself and MarshmellowQueen11 were weird even among the weirdos to be dressed as such obscure characters, but we still belonged there. And I realised at that moment that I'd had a friend all that time and never known. I wasn't alone; at Comic Con, I'd never been.

"Hey, wanna grab a coffee?" MarshmellowQueen11 caught my attention once again.

"What about the cosplay contest?"

"We aren't going to win anyway, there's like a hundred entries this year. Besides, we're practically veterans in this - let's leave it to the kids, it's their thing now."

Lord Rotskull took Moondew Starcloud by the arm, and together, we disappeared off into the crowd.