#ect mention

[only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are]

Redwood Pyschiatric Institute - Part 6

MASTERLIST - PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4 - PART 5

CWs: mention of ECT, mental hospital whump, mental health gaslighting, force used against patient (electric shock baton), forced psychiatric care

Matthew Cooper pulled up in front of a small house on the end of the street, pulling out his phone to send a quick text that read 'I'm here.'

On the screen were a series of previous, unanswered and unread messages he had sent to his friend Rowan.

'Hey Rowan. Just checking in.'

'Rowan, it's me. What's up bud?'

'Where are you?'

'PICK UP ROWAN'

'Fine. If you won't talk to me, I'm not going to try anymore'

Then, from today. 'Rowan, I'm coming over.'

Matt sighed as he dropped his phone into his pocket and clambered out of the car. He walked up to the front door, and rang the doorbell. He waited a moment, and when there was no answer, he rapped on the door with his knuckles. Still, nothing. The whole house seemed to be silent and still. He pressed his face to the one of the windows, attempting to peer through.

"Rowan!" He called.

No answer.

"Crap." Matt murmured. "Where the hell are you.."

He strode around the back of the house, searching for any signs of life from his friend. Finally, he spotted a back door, slightly ajar. It struck Mathew as strange. Rowan was not a careless person - in fact, quite the opposite, he could be rather paranoid, in Mathew's opinion. So it was completly out of the ordinary for his friend to leave a door unlocked, and Mathew also had no idea how long it had been open or if Rowan was even in the house still.

Cautiously, Matthew entered through the door, calling Rowan's name as he went. There were no traces of recent life - everything was put away neatly as Mathew would expect of Rowan, until he reached his friend's bedroom. This room was a mess - papers were scattered everywhere, on the bed, on the floor, on the desk.. Rowan's laptop was also still there, but Mathew wasn't keen to go trying to break into that. He pick up a paper sitting on the desk, and scanned through it. It was a newspaper article.

'Redwood Asylum patients claim gross mistreatment'.  The headline read. The article was dated 1964. The next article, from 1970, announced the closing-down of the Institute. The outdated facility had claimed around 1000 lives by the time of its closure, almost a hundred years since it opened.

All the other papers and articles were about the institute, why puzzled Mathew further. Why was Rowan so obssessed with this place? And more importantly, where was Rowan?

Mathew did a quick google of the place, finding that it had since been reopened and claimed to now be running as a more modern psychiatric hospital. Matthew was all out of options - his only remaining option was right in front of him. He hit the phone number listed on the web page, drew a deep breath, and hit the call button.

"Hello, you've reached Redwood Psychiatric Institute. You're speaking to Carol, how can I help you?"

"Uh, hi Carol, my name's Mathew Cooper. I was wondering if you recently had a visitor by the name of Rowan Murdock?"

"I'm sorry but we can't disclose information on our visitors. We have, however, got a patient by that name. There's a note on his file saying he can't have visitors, are you family?"

"Oh, uh.. no, I'm a long-time friend of his though. I was just wondering if I could get some more information on what happened." Mathew stammered, shocked at the news. Rowan was a patient?

"I can arrange for you to meet his doctor, in that case. Doctor Wilson. I'm sure he'd be willing to discuss Rowan's - well, yes. Rowan's recent weeks with us."

Mathew arranged a time for the meeting and then hung up the phone. He began to head out the room, when he turned back, picked up one of the articles on the psychiatric institute, and then continued on his way out of the house.

------

"Mathew Cooper, I'm here to talk to Doctor Wilson." Matthew announced to the woman at the front desk.

"Sign here, and then take this visitor pass, and it'll be the third door on your left." She smiled, a friendly but tired, 'I've been here all day and I'm just trying to be friendly to you but I could care less' kind of smile.

"Thanks." Mathew smiled back as he followed her instructions and then headed down the hall.

Inside the office, the doctor sat behind the desk, looking comfortable but composed.

"Hello Mathew, take a seat. My name is Doctor Wilson." The doctor smiled from behind his glasses.

Mathew sat in the chair across from the doctor, and extended his hand to the doctor, who took it and shook it firmly.

"Thank you for coming, Mathew."  Doctor Wilson greeted. "I understand these circumstances must be.. rather confusing, and I appreciate your willingness to discuss this in person."

"Thank you for meeting with me, Doctor Wilson. I understand you must be very busy." Mathew acknowledged.

"Indeed. Now, allow us to get right into it. Now, when did you last see your friend?" The doctor asked.

"Well, I must have seen him last a few weeks ago." Mathew answered.

"I see. Well, he came here as a voluntary self-admission on September 13th. He was incredibly unstable, and we immediately began his treatment. When we admitted him, we looked into his medical records and his personal records. Now, while I'm afraid I have some hard news to digest, there is no other way to say this - his name isn't Rowan Murdock. His real name is James Lawton."

"What- you mean, he's been lying to me this whole time about who he is?"

"No, not at all. James is a very mentally ill young man, not a pathological liar. We discovered symptoms of schizophrenia throughout the last few years of his life, but it was not yet diagnosed or treated. It has just since accumulated and worsened. He has been in dire need of treatment for years, but when he came to us, he was at the height of a schizophrenic breakdown, believing he was Rowan Murdock, a profilic journalist investigating the asylum before deciding to admit himself.  We've been treating him with medications and ECT. He has been doing better the last few weeks, however,  we are worried that a visit with you, an old friend of 'Rowan's may cause another setback." The doctor sighed.

"Oh..." Mathew's heart sank at the explanation. He couldn't comprehend the whole story, it was not anything he could have imagined. Of course, he had accepted there was some horrible series of events that had led to Rowan- or, James - being here, but not like this. "I.. I'll do anything you need, I'll say anything, I just- I need to see him, I need to talk to him."

"Alright, I'll arrange a visit." Doctor Wilson conceded. "But you mustn't encourage any of his delusions relating to 'Rowan Murdock'."

"Understood, Doctor. Thank you very much."

------

"James, I have a visitor for you." Doctor Wilson stood in the doorway, ushering Matt ahead of him.

Matt entered the room hesitantly, his eyes scanning around until they landed on a small figure, hunched up in white in the corner of the small room.

"James?"

The figure Matt had once known as Rowan did not acknowledge the presence of anyone in the room. He simply muttered something under his breath.

"James. I've brought you a visitor." Doctor Wilson repeated, mild annoyance already in his voice as he approached James and bent down, waving at his patient to try and gain his attention.

James blinked, several times, slow and sluggish, as if drawing himself out of a trance. He glanced around the room, eyes landing eventually on Mathew.

"Who.. whoareyouu-" James slurred softly, as Doctor Wilson grasped him by the arm and helped him onto his feet, bringing him over to the small bed in the centre of the room.

"He's on a lot of medication right now. He may be suffering some short-term memory loss right now, so remember that this will pass. Just remind him who you are." Doctor Wilson said to Mathew.

Mathew nodded and approached the bed, kneeling in front of his old friend. Rowa- James, he reminded himself, looked pale, and his usually-thin frame looked even thinner than usual, or maybe that was the ill-fitting hospital gown. The circles under his eyes were dark, and his face was pinched and gaunt.

"Hey, James. It's me, your old friend Mathew." He said softly, reaching out a hand.

James didn't take the hand, instead, he sat there, staring blankly at it as Matt continued talking.

"We've known each other since university. You used to come and 'study' at my house. I'd steal your notes, and then we'd play video games together until 3am, even if we had class the next morning at 9." Mathew chuckled slightly at the memory, his heart aching a little to see his friend of five years in this situation. They'd been very close through university, but in the last two years they'd drifted apart slightly as both adjusted to their adult lives. Still, he cared for his friend.

Matt drew himself out of his own thoughts and looked up to see James staring at him with an.. odd expression.

"James, are you alright?" Matthew asked gently.

"That's.. not my name." James said flatly.

Shit.. He'd triggered James. His friend began to cry - no, more like tears were slipping down from expressionless eyes.

James suddenly stood and lunged at Mathew, knocking him to the ground as he began to scream at Matt.

"HELP!"James screamed as he shook his friend. "THEY'RE TORTURING ME, LET ME OUT YOU HAVE TO LET ME OUTYOUHAVETOYOUHAVETOYOUHAVETO-"

Mathew was so shocked, he couldn't react. James screamed himself hoarse until suddenly, he gave a suprised shout, and collapsed onto his back, convulsing in agony at the hands of orderlies who had appeared in the room.

"Are you alright?" Doctor Wilson asked as he extended a hand and helped Mathew to his feet, pulling him away as the orderlies descended upon James' form, brandishing a syringe. Quickly, Doctor Wilson escorted Mathew out of the room, away from James' dreaful shrieking protests.

They returned to the doctor's office, where Wilson handed Mathew a glass of water. Matt graciously accepted it, ignoring the odd drop spilling out from how badly his hands shook. He downed the glass, wiped his face, and finally spoke. "What- what will happen now?"

"We will have to change his medication, and I'm going to perscribe another course of ECT." The doctor replied, calm but with a hint of frustration.

Mathew realised that clearly, James' treatment had been quite a difficult process that was now far from over.

"Shock therapy?" he asked.

"While that is the outdated term for it.. yes. It is now quite safe, and often used in quite severe cases of mental illness. Clearly, his schizophrenic hallucinations and paranoia are not yet treated. We will have to increase our efforts to stop these delusions that he is being trapped here."

"Will I be able to return and visit him again, Doctor?"

"Maybe after the next round of ECT. Thank you for coming, Mathew."

As Mathew drove away from the Redwood hospital, he wondered what fate he was leaving his friend to.

Tags:

@jazatronasmr @onthishamsterwheel @bumpthumpwhump @bloodsweatandpotato @whatiswhump @jancameforthewhump @dream-whump @ratking-whump @inkstainsonmyhands12 @halstead-shaw13 @sparrowsage @sowhumpful @whatwhumpcomments @caspersdelusion

[yourhighness6]

It's funny to me when people insist that "ATLA was really feminist" as if there wasn't really only one feminist message which was the very generic "girls can fight too" spiel that every 2000s show had going on whenever they briefly tried to jump on the feminism bandwagon or whatever

[uncanny-tranny]

Was looking through one of my courses presentations and my reaction:

[ghostflowers201x]

Party blower sfx

[lifewithchronicpain]

I still can’t believe that the incessant desire to kill myself that I struggled with my whole life was finally erased with a few weeks of ECT treatment back in 2013. It still holds up, despite the cascade of physical health problems that followed and disabled me by 2016. ECT is a legitimate treatment done safely and painlessly. If you’re depressed and feel like you’ve tried everything, maybe take a look at ECT.

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

Oh wait, lol, Gilear is Fig's warlock patron. That makes so much sense now. Every time Fig does warlock magic, something unlucky happens to her because that's the equivalent exchange. Fig gets magic and, in return, she absorbs Gilear's bad luck.

It's a contract. That's why there was such a focus on 'unspoken warlock contracts' and how 'they are more common than people think' and how 'they can be based on love', ect in the warlock class! Brennan is setting up the lore for the reveal.

I bet it's going to be that Fig asked her dad to be her warlock patron and she wasn't specific enough. Because Fig has 2.5 dads (legal/kinda-adoptive father, bio father, sorta-step father), so the offer to Gilear was just sorta... there. An open ended contract that Fig accepted in a moment of crisis during the Night Yorb quest.

Now, you might be saying 'How could Gilear possibly be Fig's warlock patron? He's Gilear' and I hear you, I do but it makes sense. Fig is an arch devil! She has the power to make these kinds of contracts. The power, as Brennan said during the warlock class, is coming from her. This is why I think the equivalent exchange part is important because, in a lot of ways, Fig is also Gilear's patron? He would do anything to protect his daughter and he promised that to his arch devil of a daughter (making a contract). He gets good luck and the cost for him is yet unknown to us, but I'm going to guess that it's like.... his health or his life force or something.

[zoriety]

Notes on how the combat gameplay and synergy between Will Grip Sinclair and One Who Grips Faust reflect a relationship of unhappy reliance and control.

So starting from these words from my last post, which outline Sinclair’s relationship with Faust/Kromer as being one of someone so broken by her seizing control of his life that he cannot now do anything but look back to her for assurance!:

His life importantly has become completely stagnant; he is emphasized as being a chick with a broken shell because he cannot progress past this point of total control in his life as the Sinclair we have with us on the bus has done. He’s a version of himself who cannot stand up to her, nor break through the self denial he’s living in to fully accept that he will never be like her, sincerely believing in purging others despite his best attempts - thus he’s completely stuck in limbo.

The Units

The base facts are, all of N Corp Sinclair’s abilities take between 7-15 sanity (he cannot stand what he is doing) with the exception of his guard skill, ‘Enough’, a pause which regains him some

2/3 of his skills have effects that activate on tails hit, so the 'bad' side of the coin  you generally do not want to land for most units - low sanity is rewarded

His passive further encourages keeping sanity low or neutral even whilst winning clashes and defeating units.

Though you can keep Will Grip Sinclair balanced, he as a unit is going to always be running the risk during trickier fights of hitting that -45 sanity, becoming ego corrupted and wiping allies it’s always fucking Gregor out

COMPARE Faust: 

On killing a foe, her execution recovers all allies for 10 Sanity.

When she marks a target with gaze, the one to defeat it regains sanity, with further bonus of fanaticism if also N Corp.

You can already tell I’m going to say she keeps him in check statistically, but the final kicker is really her passive.

Her whistles - the little command sound she makes to round up the N Corp troops. With her sanity heal effecting the specific allies with the least SP, the chances are almost certain that it will be Will Grip Sinclair.

When her whistle passive is audibly activated, Sinclair responds with a strained sounding laugh - all but confirmed within his uptie story to be a false laugh/smile he makes while pretending he finds the violence and extremist ideology of N Corp enjoyable. (This is something Faust herself fully knows he does not, and finds his attempts mildly amusing.)

These two units are designed to work together perfectly.

Sinclair rapidly loses his sanity, and Kromer/Faust restores it for him.

It reflects their relationship in this way: Sinclair is prevented from fully losing his mind under the brunt of what his life has become, yet is living a nightmare, taking part in terrible actions he cannot bear to face the consequences of nor his feelings for, while besides him Kromer/Faust whistles and cajoles him back into centre when he falters.

Naturally we can use these units with others, it’s a team building game, but these particular units are so suited to work together that it becomes the obvious choice.

I keep being impressed by the way plot and character so cleverly effects the statistics and gameplay within project moon games, and these units have been the highlight for me so far. It’s especially when you hear that little combination of Faust’s whistle call and Sinclair’s responding, uneasy laugh, I think it really highlights the fact that Will Grip Sinclair as a unit is in the exact same place as his character is; a suspended in a state of miserable, powerless limbo

[donnyclaws]

Not posting abt tiger crawl home as much bc I'm having fun with my little scratchings and updates but it's so going somewhere rn

[dissapoopoo]

these horses seem pretty chill ngl.

dream blunt rotation with rainbow dash,

nightmare blunt rotation with twillight sparkles...

here, have the sketch too, as a treat

[morismentos]

Can you do some Catherine Imamura headcanons? =] She is my favorite.

catherine!!, i actually know only a little about her, because i have yet to beat her. i promise i’m good at the game LOL

here’s what i could come up with though!

- very particular about weapons much like jacob. could they friends? maybe but where jacob stays is so hot that she can’t go lest she wants to be steam

- likes collecting the odd knickknack here and there, anything particularly fun looking , silly glasses, giant pencils(most of which have been pawned off to quinn), ectect

- she’s one of the offices biggest pranksters, really convoluted pranks at that

- her favorite weather phenomenon is sun showers 

- i think she would not like grimes, to proud, also getting onto her field to much

- collects vinyls all the really cool novelty ones the ones that have liquid in them ect

also particular about her record players, she’s pretty good at fixing them

- theremin player no explanation for this i just like the theremin

- avid :-) enjoyer

here’s some doodles to go along with this

[only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are]

Redwood Psychiatric Institute - Part 2

MASTERLIST - PART 1

Note: Please feel free to send me asks or prompts for this series!

CWs: psychiatric hospital whump, medical gaslighting, noncon drugging, noncon sedation, syringes, ECT mention

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything hurt. His muscles ached, his head pounded, and his stomach did somersaults. He couldn’t remember what happened, but he knew he must have moved somewhere. His environs were now much brighter white and more sterile - which didn’t help the headache. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, but he felt like he was just now waking up. He was on his back, the padded walls of his new room just barely visible in his wavering vision.

“James.”

He finally realised someone was talking to him. He was only able to move his gaze slowly over to where the voice came from. 

“Are you with me now, James?” Doctor Wilson asked.

He nodded, but he wasn’t quite sure. His brain is too heavily fogged for it to comprehend and protest the issue of his name.

“Good. It’s time for you to have your therapy session. We placed you in this special high-security room. It opens onto a nice treatment-slash-office space.” He gestured to the orderlies standing at one of the walls of the padded cell.

Rowan didn’t respond as the orderlies stepped forward and lifted him to his feet. Doctor Wilson pressed a button on the furthest wall, and the entire padded wall slid up into the ceiling. The orderlies dragged Rowan through into the second room. He didn’t take in the operation table, or the dentist-like chair, or any of the other equipment. They took him to the corner of the room which held a desk and an armchair. Rowan was placed in the armchair, and Doctor Wilson took the desk chair across from his patient.

"Let us begin. Can you tell me where you are?"

Rowan remembered. "Redwood.. the camera.."

"You are in Redwood. But there was no camera. Can you remember your name?"

"Rowan."

"James Lawton." Doctor Wilson corrected. "And my name is Doctor Wilson."

"No.." Rowan's face is pale as he begins to piece his thoughts together. 

"Do you remember how you got out of the institute, when you wandered around?"

He couldn't think. He didn't understand. 

"How did you escape?"

He didn't escape. He knew that much. But how did he know that? There was something he was missing..

James? Are you with me?" Doctor Wilson peers at Rowan's face. "It seems our current treatment plan isn't working. I think soon we'll try a course of ECT - Electro-Convulsive Therapy."

After that, they dragged him back to his room to sleep off the medication. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For several days, he was woken up, force-fed his medication, dragged to the next room for therapy, and then dragged back. Each time he resisted the medication, Doctor Wilson became more and more agitated. The next time he was roused, Doctor Wilson entered the room with the orderlies and Nurse Dean. Nurse Dean held his usual tray of medication cups. 

"This is your last chance. If you don't take your medications, it's going to be injections." Doctor Wilson warned.

Nurse Dean offered the wax paper cup to Rowan. It was labelled James Lawton. As Rowan accepted the cup, he frowned.

"That's.. not. MY. NAME." He growled, throwing the cup full of pills to the floor. 

Doctor Wilson's face went red. "That's it."

He gestured furiously to the orderlies, who swept forward and grabbed Rowan by the arms. He screamed, trying to yank his arms away. His coordination was poor, inhibited by the drugs they'd been forcing him to take. With one, most desperate tug, he pulled his arms free of the orderlies and raced for the door. He shoved his shoulder into it, and he burst through. He was out. The white halls spanned away from the room like the tunnels of a rabbit warren. He heard their shouts, but he didn't listen, lunging forward into the mess of hallways and sprinted as fast and hard as his wobbly legs would take him. He ducked behind a corner, watching some of his pursuers lost his trail and ran off. He slunk down another hallway, coming to a stop as he saw a door left ajar. He could see vibrant flickers of orange and red and yellow at the back of the room.

Curious, he stepped into the room. There was a figure with his back to Rowan, standing at a furnace. In large, mitt-like gloves, he pulled open the door of the furnace and reached for one of the two objects on the table beside him. It was a large, square-like black object. Puzzled, Rowan continued watching. It was only as the figure placed the object into the flames that he realised what it was.

My camera!

He watched in stunned silence as his beloved Cannon EOS 1500D DSLR camera began to melt, flames licking up the metal and plastic like a delicious meal.

The figure picked up the other object - Rowan's ID card - and placed it into the furnace too, and then closed the door.

Arms grabbed ahold of Rowan from behind, knocking him out of his stupour. The figure didn't move from the furnace.

"NO! YOU LIED! YOU LIED!" Rowan screamed, lunging for the figure. "YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES!"

The orderlies in their white scrubs swarmed around him.

"James, calm down."

"Everything's okay."

"STOP BURNING MY THINGS. YOU CAN'T KEEP ME HERE, MAKING ME YOUR PRISONER AND DRUGGING ME SENSELESS!!!" He screeched, jabbing his finger at the figure in front of the furnace. "GIVE ME BACK MY THINGS, RIGHT NOW!"

At this, the orderlies exchanged glances. Their expressions made Rowan's blood boil.

"James.. there's no one there." A young female orderly said, her tone sickeningly gentle and polite.

An older woman took over. "Yeah, there's no one there. Why don't you take a breath and-"

"NO! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!!" He yelled, fear and anger spurring him on. He tried to lunge from their grasp, but this time, they held him fast.

He was eased to the floor, where he continued kicking and screaming. Two large, burly orderlies pinned his arms and legs to the cold linoleum floor. He tried to keep thrashing even as they pulled down his pants and underpants, exposing his bottom. The young woman pulled a syringe from her pocket and uncapped it as she approached.

"Stay still, James. It'll hurt less." The burly orderly to his right, the man, tried in a friendly tone."

He didn't care. They weren't going to drug him, not again, not-

It really hurt as the orderly drove the syringe into the muscle of his bottom and injected the drug. She pulled the syring out, and the others thankfully pulled his pants back up. He was too weak to resist them any longer, but the orderlies didn't realease him, not yet. They pulled him to his feet, the world already spinning as they began half-dragging, half-carrying him down the hall. The last thing he saw before the darkness pulled him under was Doctor Wilson, standing at the end of the hallway with his arms crossed, waiting for his patient to be returned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @jazatronasmr @onthishamsterwheel @bumpthumpwhump @whatiswhump @jancameforthewhump

[anthromimicry]

the duality of misao being one of the few psychiatrists in arkham that has actually made progress with some of their patients and treats them like human beings, but also someone who does a complete 180° later + EATS her patients and gaslights people who ask about them into thinking they were never committed there is currently making me go feral. like girlll why are you like this JSJSJ

[uncanny-tranny]

Whatever skills or knowledge you think is "universal" absolutely isn't, and when you understand this, you can understand deeper how people experience the world. There are so many things that are deemed "common knowledge" that just aren't to some people.

Maybe you think it's common knowledge to know how to eat, for example. But it isn't common knowledge for me; I don't know how to eat because of my disabilities and because of my history. I can physically eat, yes, but the knowledge of how and when is something I never learned. I can absolutely learn, sure, but it is a time and energy investment, which is why I hadn't done so before.

What would help me more: being belittled and demeaned because I don't "know" something like a normal person would or being educated in an understanding way? Now, apply this to other people who struggle with things you think are "fool-proof," and you will start to understand how people operate when they aren't "normal"

[moe-broey]

Here's my thought process. Because my Alfonse and Sharena plushies are made of felt and whatever material I had laying around for years, I think I have to keep in line with that philosophy. Even the embroidery on the face was stuff I already had, and I improvised in some areas where I didn't have proper embroidery thread for it (pulling apart black thread of something thicker/for jewerly making, layering sewing thread for the freckles, pulling apart yarn for the eye shines, ect).

Like what I'm getting at here is that the design philosophy is almost ragdolly in a way! And I def think they're more doll than plushie actually. I almost kinda think of Yoshi's Wooly World/Crafted World, for the aesthetics -- the "gimmick" is that they Look crafted by hand, using whatever you have on hand (which is. As I'm saying it. Literally just What I'm Doing LMFAOOO BUT WITH INTENT 😤😤😤)

So. That in mind

From the start I had the idea of using this fabric for the blue undershirt. You won't see much of it, if any at all though.... so I was gonna use it for the cape, too. But then my nana stopped by, and gave me A Bunch of fabric, including..

Like. The perfect shit. Just out of whatever she had on hand. The dark blue with gold sparkles is SO PERFECT for the inside of the capes..... and it doesn't even shed glitter!!!! It's good stuff!!! The shiny satiny gold material is thin, but hefty. So like. Even though you can see it fraying (and it does look. Intimidating.), I feel like if I'm smart I can make it work. My idea for the armor was to layer some fabric on top of sturdier fabric, anyway, to add/hold shape (but also very much crossing that bridge when I get to it).

Now, for the white fabric...... well. I've run into some issues. One of which was material that was from a thinly knit scarf, had that ragdoll vibe, but was way too flimsy. Not even gonna bother.

Digging around...

There's this fabric. It has a nice sheen to it, that doesn't really show up on camera. But you see how it fucking frays. You see how it's imprisoned by a hanger. You see the crinkles. This shit is going to be a fucking Nightmare to work with. It's lightweight, yeah. Too lightweight. I COULD use this for something else, but using it on a Fuck Around and Find Out project where I'm not even using patterns is a Death Sentence. I would Die. Badly. Next

I found this soft material I got Years Ago, big dreams of something else that never came to fruition. It would be very good plush material. I was really ruminating on it. However... I feel it may be too flimsy to use button joints on it. And even though it's not thick material, on this scale.. it's probably too thick to work with. And going back, to when I said they're more doll than plush... I have other big dreams. Of a Plush plush. I only have so much of this material, I think it would be smarter to save it. Probably will save me some grief, too. ENTER.

Pant leg. With some effort, I could probably find the rest of it. I actually do think this could work, though! It's that sort of stretchy fake jeans material, and it does have a nice visual texture to it irl. Very subtle. And I feel, fits very well into the "shit I just had laying around" ragdoll aesthetic. LITERALLY ACTUALLY...... made of rags..... and again, them being more for display than they are like, cuddly. I mean, they're also very much for Holding. I do want them to be very holdable. BUT. Idk may be onto something here...

ALSO. That red ribbon is a bit on the thick side, BUT...... it has potential. With enough fucking around I could have something, there...

LIKE I mentioned it a little bit, but I think the thing that's REALLY gonna make these guys shine is having a variety of dif patterns and textures, primarily visually. Although I do think about having to make three layers of clothing on these guys and my brain explodes. Badly. Like. I'm resigned to making one layer the bodice. We can skimp on the realism. But that still means.. the white over shirts... AND the armor..... and the capes. Help. 🧍

I leave you with this.

She's so helpful...... so good at that.....

[hollystarquarium]

for hopefully the final time IF YOU SUPPORT DREAM AND DTEAM GET THE FUCK OFF MY BLOG. END OF STORY.

[missus-paint]

Calliopes diary