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haloud · 3 years

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things we could burn in one go (eminence) - chapter 9

also on ao3

Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes Additional Tags: post-s2, Canon Compliant, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Starts Forlex Ends Malex, Other Characters May Appear, Tags Subject to Update, Mutual Pining, Breaking Up, Getting Together

Chapter Summary: Michael and Isobel reckon with the fallout from Michael’s choices; Maria and Max catch up with him post-recovery.

Excerpt:

Maria sat on the steps, an old CD radio of Rosa’s beside her playing a classic Rosa mixtape, a Third Eye Blind track Michael only half-remembered flowing around her, her humming running under it, glittering minerals in a riverbed. She was surrounded by papers, pinned under painted rocks to keep them from being snatched away, her hair tied back by a rainbow scarf, and she bent over to write in a binder propped on her knees.

Michael rapped on the pillar behind him to get her attention, and when she looked up she smiled and set the binder aside.

“Guerin! You’re up! What brings you here with the sun in the sky?”

“Where else am I gonna go to get my sea legs back?”

“Well, come pull your ass into port and sit with me.”

She patted the low stair beside her and Michael did as he was told, swiping his hat off his head as he approached her. For her it was wordplay, but Michael cradled to his chest something more true than maybe she’d intended—Maria was a safe harbor, a port in a storm. No matter how bad things got, her warm heart and practical mind were a reminder to never give up. Just sitting beside her was enough to make him smile, even though he sat with a good six inches buffer between them, still unsure what boundaries were appropriate, still navigating the uncertain waters of being friends with an ex who meant something.

(Wednesday, 11:00 am)

Michael flipped Alex’s key over and over in his fingers, running it along his knuckles, pressing his thumb into the teeth until they left a locking-imprint on his skin, then doing it all over again. At some point, maybe it would start to feel real, if he reminded himself of the thing often enough.

The repetition and stimulation of the rough teeth, the cool, smooth metal, soothed him as he waited on Isobel’s porch. She’d called him here in the first place, so eventually she’d open the door. Until then, he waited. And as he waited, he thought of Alex, because what else was there to think about these days?

(A thousand things, like Jones and Project Shepherd, Max and Liz, and all the work piling up at Sanders’s, but Alex had a way of blotting everything else out, and, no matter how much his brain tried to get him to feel stupid or naïve or childish for hoping yet again, he was going to let himself bask in that shade for once in his life.)

He hadn’t left Alex’s house, still, except to go to work and get things from his own place. At Alex’s, he was still sleeping in the guest room, the both of them afraid that they’d fall back into their old patterns too fast if they fell right into bed. But during the day they shared that space, a kitchen, a den, existing alongside each other as they read or cooked or composed, and the routine wasn’t so different from the tense and quiet days right after Michael’s injury, but at the same time they were nothing alike, not when each tiny glance could mean so much, not when fingers on the soft rasp of turning pages were fingers he could touch, that could touch him.

Everything was different. It was terrifying, and exhilarating, brand new and nostalgic. It had only been a day; it had only been half their lifetimes.

“Ew, you’re glowing.”

Isobel’s voice started Michael out of his thoughts, and he jumped, shoving Alex’s key into his pocket. She was glaring at him, but still he relaxed, because Isobel’s snark was a form of love and her turning scorn in his direction was a sign things were getting back to normal between them.

“It’s all natural,” he drawled as she stepped aside to let him inside.

“Right. Did something happen, or is this just some lesser known side effect of being brought back from the brink of death.”

“Uh…”

In a way, sort of, if only because Michael’s own stupidity had driven him and Alex closer together, but that wasn’t exactly a direct correlation or anything admirable.

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p.’ “Just…”

He fell silent. How was he supposed to talk about being in love? He’d never done it before, and this was a first he hadn’t anticipated facing.

“Alex and I…” he tried again, but found himself only able to smile, still without words, and he raised his arms in a helpless shrug.

Isobel’s eyebrows raised. “Oh my god.”

“Yep.”

“I’m still pissed at you, but if Manes is making you his side chick after everything, I’m going to rip his spine out through his—”

“Isobel, no! It’s not like that,” Michael laughed, shaking his head.

“Well what’s it like, then? I cannot handle him breaking your heart again when we’re already dealing with Max.”

He replied, “My heart is fully intact,” as he headed in and dropped down on her couch, throwing a hand over his heart for dramatic effect. “No, uh, Alex and Forrest had a fight, which sucked, but it led to us getting a chance to talk more about, y’know, us, and what we wanted, and each other, so…”

“So this is rebound,” Isobel snipped.

“Can you stop?” Michael said, half-laughing. Even her pessimism on the subject of love couldn’t pop the bubble around his heart right now. He patted the couch beside him, and she hesitated for a few seconds with her arms crossed, before capitulating and joining him.

“Oh, fine,” she groused, leaning against the arm of the couch farthest away from where he was sitting. “Your funeral.”

The words landed like a lead balloon, and Michael winced as her face grew stormier.

“I’m—”

“Don’t,” Isobel held up a hand in his face. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Well, what do you want to hear?”

“An explanation, Michael! What the hell were you thinking? Why would you do that? What if he’d just straight up killed you, did you want us to find your body in a cave somewhere or, or never, blown to smithereens by a man who literally breathes fire! You’re so stupid, and selfish, and—” She cut herself off, furious tears welling in her eyes even as the rest of her face didn’t change.

“I know! I know, you’re right, it was stupid. I wasn’t thinking, or, well, I was thinking, but my head was all messed up.” He rested his forehead in his hands and running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think any explanation is going to make any sense now, out of the moment, but I just…everything was going to shit, and I couldn’t do anything for Max, and I thought Jones might have answers, or could help me unlock new powers like you’ve done on your own. So I could protect everyone.”

Isobel threw her arms up and got to her feet, pacing around the couch; Michael tracked her, anxiety dipping and spiking every time she circled him. Her anger pulsing when she passed behind him made his skin crawl, and he shifted in his seat.

“I don’t even know what to say to that,” she finally spoke, stopping in front of him.

He kept his head bent forward, staring at his knees.

She continued, “I really don’t. I’ve been trying for twenty-one years, but I still don’t know how to get through to you. How to convince you that you’re not alone, that people want to protect you. To help you. But I’m not Max. I’ve never pushed or pried or fought to cling onto you when you shook us off. I just hung around because I knew you’d always come back.” She took a deep breath. Her voice stayed steady and deliberate. “But Michael, this has gone on for too long, and you went too far this time. You have to let us help you. Otherwise—I don’t know. I just don’t. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

Drops of water speckled the tops of Michael’s knees, and he sniffed, swallowed, mouth dry, throat tight and aching. His sister’s gentle hands threaded through his hair, cradling both temples, right hand over Max’s lingering handprint, but no matter how careful that touch was, he flinched.

Isobel tipped his head up so he had to look her in the eye and said, “You’re my brother, Michael. I love you so much. And I would do anything for you, just like you would—and have—do anything for me. But you need to let me! From here on out, I need you to fucking work with me. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

Tears trickling down his face and dripping from his chin, Michael nodded, not trusting his voice, and Isobel fell forward, his arms opening up to catch her, and they stayed like that for a long time, Michael rocking her back and forth, her clinging desperately to his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he finally croaked, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Or Max. I just, I can’t stop myself, sometimes, I know it’s not an excuse, I know it was stupid, I know—”

“I know,” she interrupted his stream of self-loathing, sitting back to look him seriously in the face. “I was in your head, remember?”

She’d found him beneath a vaulted ceiling, stained glass in shifting, alive, alien colors, walled in with his demons. Defining himself inside the devouring maelstrom by the battles he understood. His whole life, he’d sewed himself back whole, and his work wasn’t pretty, but the patterns made sense, and they kept him sane even when the odds demanded otherwise. The image flashed behind his eyes, but that’s all it was, an image. He shook his head.

“Not really.”

“Well. I didn’t really go snooping, no matter how tempting it was,” she said with a self-deprecating roll of her eyes. “But let’s just say…you don’t owe me any explanations you aren’t willing or ready to give. Those belong to you. I know I haven’t always understood that in the past. We both have things to work on, okay?”

“Okay,” Michael rasped, squeezing her tight again. “I…want to work on them with you.”

“Then it sounds like we’re going to be okay,” she softly replied.

(3:00 pm)

Isobel didn’t let him leave the house until both their eyes stopped being red and puffy from crying; It took multiple episodes of some Food Network show he’d never heard of before she agreed to let him out of her sight, and, in deeply un-Isobel-like fashion, she followed him to the door and pulled him into another hug for the road before she let him leave.

The drive from Isobel’s to the Wild Pony wasn’t really long enough to fully ruminate on how bad he must have scared Isobel to warrant this level of reaction. Logically, he’d known, but emotionally it was just beginning to sink in.

Over the past year, he’d been faced with losing Isobel and with losing Max multiple times—had lost Max, in fact. He knew how it felt. Why should the loss of himself be any different to them? In low moments, sure, thoughts shifted beneath the murk of his mind, lurking demons from childhood, that they didn’t need him, they had each other, a more special bond, he was the odd one out, outside, out in the cold. But on the day to day, he didn’t devalue himself like that, not in so many words, did he? But—

To be surprised? That Isobel was afraid, that Max was afraid, that the both of them stood on the precipice of grieving him and had to process the horror of that fall after snatching themselves back at the last minute? It was a slap in the face, a rude awakening. A lesson that for all these years he’d resisted learning.

The first step to protecting those who loved him was to protect himself. He couldn’t keep shelving it as the lowest priority. They were one and the same.

It sounded fake to his own ears, but he’d just have to say it until the lesson sunk in.

With the windows rolled down, the idle breeze tugged Michael’s hair across his face and cooled the late-summer stickiness from his skin. It was just after lunchtime, a little early for Max to be at work, but since he wasn’t at Isobel’s house, it was faster to check for him here than to drive all the way out to his own place.

If there was one positive to his near-death, it was the way Max was invigorated by a purpose. The healing drained him, of course it did; it could have killed him, and that weighed on Michael’s conscience, but afterward, after it worked and he’d pulled Michael back from death, he smiled. He slept. He bustled around Alex’s house babysitting Michael while Alex was at work, and now, with a little distance from fragile death, that didn’t chafe as badly.

Max deserved a better thanks than Michael had thus far been able to render, and with Isobel’s words still ringing in his ears, there was no better time than now.

He pulled up to the Pony, the fairy lights strung across the patio dancing in the wind, the wood of the old building all pale and real in the sunlight. The old, familiar sign above the door was off as long as the bar was closed, but Michael still took a moment to glance at it nice and long, remembering the feel of fixing it under his hands so the whole place felt less liminal, less like a mirror vision of the beating heart that was the Wild Pony glowing under the night sky, lit from within rather than from the sun.

Faint music played as Michael parked and left his truck, so he rounded the corner of the building to suss it out and smiled at what he saw, leaning against one of the trellis supports.

Michael rapped on the pillar behind him to get her attention, and when she looked up she smiled and set the binder aside.

“Guerin! You’re up! What brings you here with the sun in the sky?”

“Where else am I gonna go to get my sea legs back?”

“Well, come pull your ass into port and sit with me.”

“What are you working on?” he asked.

“Oh, you know me.” She gestured vaguely to the arrangement of papers and tucked her feet up beside her, leaning toward Michael, cutting the space between them in half like it wasn’t worth noticing. Some of the tension in Michael’s chest unwound at her ease around him.

“Hustling?” he prompted.

“Yep. I’m just organizing the events I have planned for the upcoming season and making sure I have space set out for scheduling, details, budgeting, the works. High school me would die with envy; my system was never this good when I was trying to study.”

“I’m definitely impressed. Let me know if there’s anything I can help with, anything you need built, or an extra set of ‘hands’ for decorating.”

“How is that going?” she asked, brows furrowing.

“I’m still getting my strength back. Just gotta keep pushing through and hope whatever Jones did didn’t mess me up for good.”

“I’m sure he didn’t.”

Her hand extended but stopped before touching him, until he turned his hand palm-up, asking her to take it. She did, squeezing him.

“You’ll figure it out,” she said. “And the TK aside, have any of the other powers cropped up? The light, the teleporting? Those were the ones Alex told me about.”

“That’s all I remember, really. And no. I haven’t even tried, honestly.” He looked at their joined hands, her wrist bare of the pollen bracelet he’d promised her and wasted, thrown away like trash in a corner of Jones’s cave. This is blasphemy…

“Do you think you will? Try?” Maria asked, head tilted.

“I…hadn’t thought about it. Been focused on getting back to square one with the TK, but…”

Was doing more with his powers still an option? Was he willing to try, and fail, and fail again, without folding and submitting to all the voices in his head that told him every failure was proof positive of the erstwhile adage that he was worthless?

“Well, you have time,” Maria said, squeezing his hand again.

“What about you?” Michael asked. “Any visions?”

Her face shut down. She let go of his hand to smooth both hers down her knees then fold her arms around herself, turning her head away. “No. Still nothing. A few dreams, but it isn’t always easy to tell what’s a normal dream and what’s a vision, and with you out of the woods, the most dire ones are already Jossed.”

“What about Mimi?”

“Huh.” Maria pursed her lips for a second, then said, “I haven’t noticed any change in her? But I’ll have to ask and see what she says. I’m not even completely sure our powers work identically, with the things she’s said about being unstuck in time…I don’t always get that same feeling.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Michael promised her. “Even if it means having to go back to Jones and ask what he knows—”

“No!”

She wheeled on him and smacked his arm lightly.

“Absolutely not! Michael!”

“Not alone, obviously!” He defended.

“Not at all. Jesus Christ. I’ll tell Isobel you said that—I’ll tell Alex—”

“Maria, c’mon,” Michael whined, taking her hand again in an attempt to connect them and calm them both down. “I just don’t want to rule out that he’s meddling in more ways than we know. I still think he’s fucking with Max. You deserve answers, if that’s what’s going on.”

“Not at the cost of your life. Not ever. It could be a hundred other things, too. Stay away from him, Michael, I’m serious.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good,” she said firmly, wrapping her arm around his again and leaning into him. He let out a long, slow breath as she relaxed.

“You know, in Jones’s cave…”

“Mm?”

Michael carefully encircled her wrist with his fingers. “I lost the bracelet I made for you. The backup one I promised.”

“Are you feeling guilty about that? Because please, don’t,” she replied, covering the hand on her wrist with her other. “That is the last thing on my mind.”

“But I—”

“Hush. I’m glad you had it with you, whatever happened to it. It’s good that you opted to protect yourself, even if it didn’t work.”

“I thought your powers were offline.”

“The visions, maybe. But I don’t need to see the future to read you, Guerin.”

“You are something else, DeLuca.”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

“Hey, Maria—oh! Michael!”

The two of them turned toward the backdoor at the sound of Max’s voice.

“Hey, Max,” Maria said. “Is the inventory finished?”

“Yeah, I was just coming to report back.”

“No need to be so formal,” she teased, standing up and brushing dust from the seat of her pants, looking at the papers around her with her hands on her hips. “I was hoping to get your opinion on some plans, Number One, but someone interrupted, so they’re not quite ready yet.”

“Guilty as charged,” Michael drawled.

Max reached out a hand, and Michael took it to humor him, letting him haul him to his feet.

“I’ll let you off the hook this time,” Maria said as she led the way back into the bar, cool and dim in the daylight. “You can sweep up to say you’re sorry.”

“My pleasure,” Michael said, reaching out a hand, hoping he could summon the broom as nonchalantly as he once could. It sat unresponsive until a spike of formless frustration zipped through him, at which point it flew to his hand fast and hard enough to sting his palm when he caught it. Great. Just what he needed right now—puberty flashbacks.

“I need to run,” Maria said, stowing her binder behind the bar. “Late lunch with Rosa. I’ll see you later, Max—Michael, it was so good to see you. Say hi to Alex for me, okay? I know you’re gonna see him before I do.”

She left with a wink while Michael was still pink and stammering. Maybe Alex had told her already—or maybe that was just Maria, putting him so at ease it was easy to forget how much she saw. His chest glowed so warm he couldn’t stop blushing at that casual acknowledgement, that easy validation, that he and Alex—that Alex and he were what they were to each other, now, again.

“Wait, is she talking about you staying over there, or does she mean—dude!” Max grinned ear to ear and bounded out from behind the bar to pull Michael into a back-slapping hug. “Congratulations!”

Old, brotherly habit had Michael squirming out of Max’s affections, but it didn’t dent his exuberance; he retaliated with a swipe through Michael’s hair, making him duck further out of range, huffing and laughing all at once as he tried to fix it again.

“Yeah, um, Forrest and Alex broke up, and then one thing led to another, so.”

“I’m really happy for you, man.”

“I—thanks. I’m…I’m really happy, too.”

The sudden urge to comfort Max gripped him, a strange survivor’s guilt that things would be working out for him and Alex and Max and Liz would still be so far apart. But it wasn’t his place to throw that in Max’s face now, so he bit his tongue and basked in Max’s honest happiness for him.

“Could you feel, uh, any of my emotions through the handprint?” Michael asked. He ran his hand through his hair over the spot on his temple where Jones had held him, erased by Max’s healing hands, then dropped it back to his side abruptly, flexing away the phantom stiffness that still plagued him, that probably always would. He gave it a shake as if to chase away nervous tingling.

“Nah. But it’s not like I’m looking; I respect your privacy, man.”

“’preciate that,” Michael snarked, and Max just shrugged.

“Any particular reason you ask? I don’t need to know what you and Alex are up to,” Max joked.

Michael considered his answer for a little bit as he made his way between the tables. After all, it wasn’t as if this was the first handprint Max had ever given him. The ones on his neck and hand cut off by his death aside, dozens of times over dozens of years, Max had practiced healing on him and they’d explored that connection. Michael was always the guinea pig; he never wanted for injuries to work on, after all.

But there’d been a lot of handprinting over the past year and change. Max felt something from Liz; Liz felt something from Noah; Rosa and Max had a connection strong enough to tether Max to the world of the living. And then there was Michael, with Jones’s voice in his ear, dripping condescending words about his lack of psychic ability being phenomenal, considering.

At various times in his life, Michael had looked up at the stars and wondered in the silence what it was in him that was irreparably broken.

“Just curious. It’s been a while, and all juiced up like I was, I was wondering if anything felt different.”

“Nothing different. Just you.”

Max smiled like that was a good thing, a comforting thing. And you know what? In between the adrenaline of change, good and bad, in between the rock of Project Shepherd and the hard place of Jones, on an afternoon in a closed bar, a home to both of them, alone with his brother, Michael let it be.

He cleared his throat. “Good. So there’s no…interference or anything? Nothing weird lurking around up there?”

“Not that I can tell; Isobel would probably know better than I would. Whatever he did to you was bizarre, man. It wasn’t like the way, uh, the way I’ve killed people before. Or the way Noah killed.”

“I don’t think he was just trying to kill me.”

Michael made his way over to a booth and beckoned Max over; he lingered over his work for a glance at the clock and then came and joined him.

He continued, “He kept going on about teaching and knowledge and this being the wrong way but the most efficient. He knew it would hurt me, but maybe it would have worked better if he did it to someone more, uh, receptive than me.”

“What are you talking about?” Max leaned over the table, brow furrowed. This close up, the dark circles below his eyes were more noticeable. “Michael, what he did to you wasn’t in any way your fault—”

“I know, I know, that’s not what I mean. Just…look, I saw the security footage from Caulfield, from the day of the Valenti incident. The way that alien approached Jim Valenti and put his hands on him was identical to what Jones did to me, and I think maybe that guy was just trying to communicate but it fucked up a human in a way he either couldn’t expect or was too out of it to realize. And, well,” Michael gestured to his own head. “I’m the most human of the three of us up here.”

“I…huh.” Max sat back and drummed his fingers on the tabletop as he processed that. “Well, whatever the case, it proved you and Isobel were right about him. He can’t be trusted. Nobody should have any more contact with him. We’ll start doing our monthly drop offs contactless until we all figure out what should be done with him.”

His voice was firm, businesslike. Traffic Stop Max was Michael’s least favorite version of his brother and he’d hoped that his turn to the civilian would’ve put that guy to rest, but he had a tendency to rear his head in a crisis.

But in this case, he saw through him, and that façade was hiding something.

“How do you feel about that?” Michael asked, leaning back and slouching, reflecting Max’s rigid body language the way he had for a decade, cops and robbers style.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel about it. He almost killed you; we’ll do what has to be done.”

“Uh, it definitely does matter. You’re the closest thing to a next of kin he’s got, as far as we know. If anyone gets to decide what happens to him, it’s you.”

“That’s what I’m doing.”

“Is it? ‘Cause, look, I know I fucked up a lot of stuff running off to Jones half-cocked like I did. I don’t want to set off a chain reaction of more bad mistakes that rips us apart again when we’re just startin’ to…” Michael trailed off with a self-conscious shrug. It was realer than he’d intended to get, but it was the root of the issue, wasn’t it?

Max’s face softened, and Michael slumped lower in the booth.

“You’re not. You won’t.”

“You’re just saying that—”

“Michael.”

That tone was always a coin flip if it’d get right under Michael’s skin or if it’d shut him up. It landed on the second one this time, to Michael’s relief.

Max said, “No chain reactions. What we were doing before wasn’t working, okay? I knew I wanted something from Jones, but I couldn’t bring myself to reach out and take it. All you did was force us to make a choice when I would’ve dug my heels in and not been able to for a long time otherwise.”

“The answers you’re looking for, though, you deserve to look for them if it’s what you need,” Michael forged on, battling his clumsy tongue. “I should’ve said that before. You deserve to know who you are and to learn who that is in whatever way you can. Everybody deserves that.”

“Thank you. I mean that. But I was getting so desperate—the things I was thinking of doing—I scared myself, okay? I didn’t think—I don’t think I am that person. And being this person I am right now and who I want to be right now is more important than any answers about the past, if that’s what it means to find them.”

Michael sat with that, looking Max up and down, sitting with his own feelings as much as Max’s words. Parsing his own reactions to Max was something he took steadier, more carefully than most other things in his life. It was a set of muscles he needed to practice with as much as he needed to get power back to his telekinesis.

“Okay, man. I respect that,” he said finally, leaning over the table to punch Max in the shoulder. Max made a face and rubbed that spot.

“Ow, man, thanks, I guess.”

“Damn, did I get you in your writing arm?”

“Try my drink-mixing arm. If I’m off tonight, I’m ratting you out to Maria.”

Michael let out a scandalized noise and slipped out of the booth.

“Where are you going?” Max laughed, dark eyes shining with life in a way Jones’s never could. For all they were identical, Michael barely saw the resemblance.

“To lay low, what do you think? You’re makin’ me a fugitive.”

“Uh huh. Good luck; you know she’s just going to ask Alex.”

“Damn it. The things I do for love.”

A smile on his own face as soon as he turned his back, Michael was almost at the door when Max called his name and he turned to face him again.

“Michael? Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Asking. Listening.”

Those two words held a lifetime of desperate loneliness between them, and Michael would be sitting with that, too, as long as he was holding it in his head, making it a conscious decision, to do right by his brother.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said.

“I wanted to,” Max replied simply.

“Well in that case…I guess you’re welcome.”

Michael’s phone buzzed in his pocket, not the single pulse of a text but the longer jangling of a phone call. He fished it out, smiling when he saw the name, and he didn’t even wait to get privacy from Max before answering.

“Alex—”

“Thank God. Where are you, Michael? Are you okay?”

“Alex? I’m fine, I’m at the Pony, what’s wrong—”

Max hurried to Michael’s side.

Alex repeated, “Thank god. Don’t come home, do you hear me? Do not come back to the house until I give you the all clear. Stay with Max and Maria.”

“What? No!”

But the line cut off midway through his protest, leaving him with nothing but the dial tone.

#my fic #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #malex

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kimheecheon · 2 years

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dont mind the proportions n style n shit these are very rough sketches. but pls look at some outfits i whipped for my beloved oc hehe putting together clothes is so fun

very long oc talk below hoohoo

funfun fact abt me but when i was younger i rly liked fashion n even took sewing classes in case i wanted to seriously pursue it but i think as i grew up i realised that i hate designing clothes if i don't know who it's /for/. ppl make fashion choices n it says so much abt them, yk? thats what makes playing dress up so fun! to me the face/body ur born with is just whatever u happen to be born with; its what you deliberately choose w your conscious brain that is more true and 'natural' to you, ykwim? so my ocs tend to have distinctive (to each other) and ostentatious style. miel is traditional-inspired mix-and-match, rough around the edges; zia is evil-futuristic-government-core, monochromatic and structural; roxy is classic hollywood glamour; anna is cutesy frilly pastels; jade is corporate chic (not ostentatious. blegh); and so on and so on. i don't necessarily like them personally, neither are they objectively good, but that's not the point.

now we get to this specific guy. let's call them ellie. ellie is a bit of a recluse, doesn't go out much if at all, doesn't like to /be seen/ there's a backstory ofc but i'm not going there. this is also why i blanked out their face here, i did draw it tho. anw for this reason they don't really dress up, 99% of the time they're just in some black hoodie n sweatpants combo. i imagine their entire wardrobe is just one drawer. black obscures shapes, it works,

but that's not what they're /like/. their favorite color is the entire rainbow, their room is headache-inducing for literally everyone else, with all the hodge podge of bright colors and patterns and random novelty trinkets meticulously arranged on the floor. and if it was up to them, they'd definitely dress in a style similar to that— colorful, whimsical, and fully covered. but they don't have a reason to, right? at home, they just want to wear something comfortable.

but well, when you've had an oc for like 7 years they grow up with you, kinda. ellie is by no means a socialite, still kinda poorly adjusted, but they're much happier now. they want to b alive. experience things. n maybe look cute doing it. they're just beginning to, they want to, but well, they don't /have/ clothes n they're not exactly accustomed to the shopping and dressing up.

but if anything ellie is deeply loved by their (new) friends and family. on god they're making it happen. i can imagine them banding together (ellie included but they're full of doubts, honestly) going through online shops and their personal wardrobes trying to coming-of-age-movie-makeover ellie.

look 1: i call this the "yeah, i, the artist, am a kpop noise fan". but anw this one is styled by roxy (they live together and is almost the same size, convenient). this is neither of their style, but it suits ellie so well (for reasons i cannot elaborate on) (that blue biohazard sign is plot relevant) n that's more important for her. miel has that exact jacket but they had to buy ellie a new one bc they're very different sizes.

look 2: the styling is a collaborative effort between jade and ellie themself, they're married btw. ellie thinks this is the peak of fashion, for now. everything here is actually theirs. the jacket they knitted themselves. the patches they sewed. date night fit.

look 3: the cropped hoodie is borrowed from anna, who is also the stylist. the shein argyle flare jeans and blue vans are borrowed from roxy. anna's definitely most considerate of comfort and accessibility and wear-at-home-bility for [redacted] reasons. and just most considerate in general.

look 4: styled by zia, the only person practical enough to pick a raincoat tbh. shein top borrowed from roxy, again. rainbow umbrella is just ellie's umbrella they've had for a while now

anw. there's a lot of backstory on them that is going to stay in my docs and nowhere else forever, unfortunate since i don't know how to accurately convey just how big this is, im in my feelings man. for ellie and their personal growth, their first sets of going out clothes; the community effort– them feeling they are so, so loved. every single person on ellie's personal stylist team is happy for them, and they feel this, even if clothes may not be that big a deal for most people, this is an achievement for ellie and they celebrate. now the looks themselves may not be stellar, every one of ellie's friends dresses better, free-er, but before ellie gets there they will work their hardest to pick things that ellie would like (but still through their own aesthetic lenses, as ppl tend to do).

do ellie wear these out a lot, as intended? no, they're still a homebody. but they will wear a yellow sweater with purple sweatpants at home too, and things are a little brighter, literally and figuratively.

i love love love making clothes with ppl in them. nd baby? these ones have multiple people in them!

(n, aesthetically speaking, lets savor this intermediate style before ellie gets really comfortable dressing themselves and start wearing things as hedache-inducing as their interior decor sense lmao. though emotionally i cant wait for ellies circus clown era theyll enjoy it a lot)

#n no covid doesnt exist in my universe the masks are for covering up reasons #maybe we should give them head coverage too. ill think abt it n adjust maybe thats what sketches are for #all tentative names!!#oc

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terminally-karkalicious · 3 years

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allow me to rant about the only thing that has been in my brain for the past two months and that is doll customizing babeyyyyy

i know there’s a 90% chance that you wont give a Shit about any of this but here we go anyways

SO first you gotta choose a doll. preferably one with a high range of motion to avoid creating new joints or having annoying limitations like not having elbow joints for some fucking reason. what the fuck mattel. give monster high dolls back their ball jointed shoulders and elbow joints. smh

the most common dolls ive seen used as bases are monster high and ever after high. most customs ive seen are highly stylized so the stylized face molds work well for those types of dolls but dolls like barbies are good for when you want a more realistic face-ups.

once you’ve got your base picked out you gotta wipe that bitch’s face off with like. acetone or nail polish remover or something strong like that. you can also use acetone to shrink doll heads which is cool as hell imo. n e way once the face is wiped you gotta chop off the hair and remove the hair plugs from the inside. ive seen this done several ways but the easiest and most common way ive seen is to dunk the head into boiling water for ~30 seconds until it gets squishy and malleable. once you’ve got the head back, you can use pliers (i think tweezers would work in a pinch) to pull out the hair plugs which are kinda icky because theyre covered in glue and other gross shit. ew

now you must decapitate the doll. dunk em back in the boiling water to soften them back up then just tug the head off. the neck pegs look funky and are usually a different color than the body so thats cool ig

once the head’s off, you can start the face-up which is basically just giving the doll a new face using stuff like watercolor pencils, acrylic paint, gouache, and a whole lot of other stuff. hell ive seen people use person makeup on these dolls.

next,,,,, hair. there’s about twenty million ways to do hair from gluing yarn wefts to sewing to rerooting with purchased nylon doll hair or yarn wefts but i’m gonna talk about the most common one ive seen which is rerooting and gluing.

before you can reroot, you need doll hair. which, as i mentioned, can be bought at stores like the doll planet or made at home with yarn in literally any color. have fun with it! make rainbow hair or something idk

to make homemade wefts, you take some acrylic yarn, cut it twice as long as you want the hair to be (keep in mind you can cut and style the hair once it’s been rerooted), fold them in half, and tie it to something sturdy like a wire coat hanger for the next step.

once you’ve got your yarn tied to your hanger, use a pet brush and brush the yarn until it’s wispy and looks like hair. then take a straightening iron and iron the weft flat. then remove from the hanger and boom. hair wefts. ta-da

to reroot the wefts onto the head, use a rerooting tool (which can be as simple as a needle with the eye cut at angle) (just google it please i’m shit at descriptions)) to poke small sections of the hair into the head. you can use the pre-existing rooting holes for your own reroot as they’re usually pretty reliable. to reroot, take a small length of you doll hair (about 10-15 strands), loop it in half, and put the middle of the loop into the reroot tool. poke the end of the tool with the hair on it into the pre-existing hole and remove the tool. the hair *should* stay in and fill up that plug!! also remember to plug thickly at the hairline and part of the hair where it's most noticeable. it doesnt matter as much in the center of the head as that’s not usually visible on the doll. once you’ve rerooted, squeeze in strong glue through the neck hole and squish around the head to make sure it covers all the plugs and secures them in place. then pour hot water onto the head to make the hair lay flat for styling later.

also, you can reroot yarn directly into the head to make thicker, more textured hairstyles. and since the yarn is thicker, you dont need to glue the inside of the head for the hair to stay in place!!

if youre not doing body modifications (which are also cool as hell) then it’s time for clothes but clothes are boring and i like body mods more so i’m gonna rant about them instead

the material ive seen most doll artists use is apoxie sculpt, which is like play doh on steroids. it comes in two parts which you gotta mix together for some reason. why dont they sell it pre-mixed. what was the reason. also once it’s dry it’s super super strong and you can sand it, drill into it, paint it, and all kinds of stuff. very nice and i want some for myself.

you can use hand saws and drills and shit to whack off doll limbs to make stuff like digitigrade legs or new joints. also dont be afraid to use other mismatching doll parts when customizing like heads and bodies and forearms and hands and shit. it literally does not matter if youre gonna recolor the doll anyways so have fun with it. make frankenstein’s doll if youre feeling spicy

accessories my beloved. stuff like tiny beads and clay baubles and shit will literally transform the entire doll plus they’re adorable and multi-purpose

i suppose i must talk about clothes now. ah well. you can find great clothing patterns if youre new to customizing on other customizer’s etsy shops and probably google although those will probably be lower quality than paid pattern pieces. and keep in mind that if it exists as clothing irl, you can likely make it doll-sized. there are literally no limits to your clothing options as long as you can execute your idea.

the once all your components have been made, you can assemble the doll again!! and finally see what all the parts look like together!! very cool 10/10 stars.

ight that wraps up my doll rant. i could really go into more detail on certain parts but thats a whole other rant for a whole other day smh. sorry for fucking flooding your inbox ender ahaha……………. you asked for this

little did you know that dolls have been one of my favorite things since like ever. if i can read a 25 chapter long fanfic i can read this B)

mattel definitely fucked up by completely ruining MH doll designs and just stopping EAH, alot of their profits most likely came from people who collect and customize dolls and by changing MH doll designs/Stopping EAH dolls they 1. most likely lost a small (or big if we're not jus talking people who customize dolls) part of their profit and 2. made it harder for doll customizers to make dolls/get commissions out rather quickly because they probably have to waste more time making joints or learning how to make joints.

EAH/MH dolls (specifically MH dolls) had AMAZING MODELS because there was so much variety with height, face shapes, etc (my favorite molds had to be the short/tall dolls and the cat molds because of the tails) and doll customizers really went all out with enhancing a molds unique features. The only "downside" abt MH dolls is that they (or atleast most)(from what i remember)) had slimmer faces but wider eyes while EAH dolls have wider faces with slimmer smaller which left a canvas for the face and not the eyes (and vice versa for MH dolls)

I've never seen any videos where a barbie is customized (maybe because i absolutely despised barbies at the time) so I'll definitely have to check those out but they seem to be good for realistic makeovers. I've seen like like semi realistic makeovers for EAH/MH dolls that were pretty good too tho (pretty sure mostly EAH dolls since yk MH dolls were used for creature makeovers while most EAH dolls weren't)

yeah i was always amazed by the head shrinking with acetone. honestly i still am?? idunno i have no idea how that chemical bullshit works. Ive seen a few of uh makeovers that just pain over the face (in multiple layers ofcourse) but that's usually when they're painting the entire body a different colour (again usually when they're turning a doll into a funky little baby man). I've also seen a few that just chop the hair off and take out the hair plugs yk without uuh like softening the head or just go straight for the hair plugs after taking off the head (i used to do that it was funny to me??). i always really liked when they used watercolour pencils or just colour pencils in general to draw/sketch on the face cause like wow ur drawing on ur doll without ruining it?? kinda epic maybe even poggers and pogchamp?? oh god my brain is failing wjshsmsj.

Watching them putting the hair back on the doll was, other than the face stuff, was the BEST part for me. Favorite type of hair was iuuuuuh was either thick yarn or brushed out yarn. Literally worship the people that would reroot the hair, theyre the most patience people on this earth!! it's literally insane but i guess that's what happens when you've been doing that for years? you guess kinda get used to it. when they put glue into the head does it just become stiff?? like it's just a clump of dried glue or does it like..hollow out again??

dude you literally cannot convince me most of the supplies used for doll makeovers. APOXIE CLAY LOOKS SO FECKING GOOD. its edible and i will die on that hill. The body mods are literally so amazing!!!!! it's so impressive how theyre able to imagine certain features THEN LIKE ACTUALLY MAKE IT LOOK ACCURATE TO WHAT THEY WANTED TO LOOK LIKE AFTER LIKE ON TRY (or many yk trial and error is very necessary for..everything). Absolutely loved when doll customizers would saw off a dolls legs and use different ones or just completely get rid of the torso to use a different one. it's like uuh that one big guy that's mismatched and sewn together. very cool. The accessories are so fun!! just small little details you seen really need but can add because it's your feckin doll!! I used to be absolutely obsessed over the doll clothes i would find on etsy, so much so that i started sewing shitty shirts and dresses for my uh "customized" dolls (they were absolute HORRORS idk WHY my mom let me feck up my dolls like that).

Thank you for this!! i haven't been able to talk about any of my interests for a while and this just really made me happy!!

Question fer u my fellow MH/EAH enthusiast: what was your favorite MH/EAH movie/episode and doll series. Mine was The fusion dolls (MH obvi) and that MH movie "Haunted" cause we got to know more about Spectra :D

#YOOOO LONG POST?!#long post #:) hehehe #this was very fun to read cant wait for ur next fanfic length ask #asks :D #theoreticallyjasper

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warmau · 4 years

Text

{Special} College!AU Shinwon

*this post was commissioned | find all my college aus here | commission info

major: media management

minor: rhetoric

sports: brags about how his long legs are perfect for volleyball, but screamed bloody murder when hongseok spiked the ball in his direction once so you could say,,,,,,,,shinwon’s not a sports person

clubs: drama club (less for the acting, more for the strutting), public speaking, and of course - it’s not a club per say - but the fashion department always loops him into helping them out as an impromptu model

shinwon,,,,,,,,,,really didn’t think he’d even end up going to college,,,,,,,,,,,,,

really he was sort of set on debuting as a model and working it out from there

but after a while, waiting around for work just got boring

so he left the agency he’d signed up with when he was still in highschool and applied to college

much to everyone's collective shock, his parents, sister, and himself included

hui: im so proud he took this step, you know shinwon is bright and im sure he’ll use his brain for good.

shinwon: exactly!

shinwon five seconds later: actually i just realized i have to do homework again and i think im going to drop out?

hongseok: i knew it

shinwon’s reputation is all over the place - he’s kind of known as being messy, beautiful beyond comprehension sure,,,,,

but he’s messy messy

from his dorm room

cluttered with magazines he’s been featured in, his guitar stands, vinyls which no one understands why he buys like this is the twenty-first century ......, and clothing strewn from the lampshade

to his dating history

pretty sure he’s had a hook up with someone from every department available on campus like pre-meds, literature, music, hell even someone in egyptology was smitten by his good looks

and of course ,,,,, his personality

from playing childish tricks on tired masters student jinho, to owning the student held fashion shows with impeccable grace and posture

yuto affectionately refers to shinwon as a rubix cube made of spikes, flowers, and a little bit of hot sauce

shinwon thinks it’s such a compliment, he tries to lean over and grab yuto in for a kiss

(which is refused with an almost punch to the face)

he’s definitely a force on campus and is famous for different reasons with different people

but if there’s one thing shinwon has learned from life it’s that he really cannot stand to give two shits about what people say about him behind his back

not like he’s going to hear it anyway

and he’s blunt to the point where it’s sometimes too much and hongseok on occasion (many occasions) has had to just pick shinwon’s six foot tall body up

and carry him out - as shinwon continues to spew well-deserving facts at whoever it is that tried to start with him

(or any of his friends. someone once made an offhanded comment about yeoone who is way too nice to say anything and shinwon just stopped in and turned on his gucci boots heel to be like “come again?”)

loves when cute shy freshmen get all nervous around him like

“oh my god, he looks like a marble statue! wasn’t he on that one magazine? he’s so pretty~ he must be so cool~”

shinwon: basking in it

hongseok: trying so hard not to tell them about how shinwon is nothing close to cool

has the worst diet imaginable - lives on fast food

and he does NOT work out which adds more confusion

pre-meds will be like “hey,,,,,,so,,,,,,,,,do you have like ibs or something? or is your stomach literally made of iron?”

and shinwon just slaps his scrawny tummy and is like “i don’t know man, but this machine runs smoothly!”

more clothes than he knows what to do with - likes brand names, but cannot afford them unless he has gigs - says he doesnt but totally owns a cheap tracksuit that he lazes around in during campus holidays

backpack covered in old rock band pins

always steals his classmate's pencils

notes stained with coffee

binders unorganized, lost his textbook at a nightclub

really again - does not look like he belongs in college LOL

does media management because it still keeps him in the loop of fashion, but without all the actual drawing and sewing

because no one trusts him near a sewing machine or fabric scissors

the rhetoric minor was a big surprise - but shinwon just goes

“i get grades for talking good”

jinho, twitching: “talking well. you can’t say “talking good”

shinwon: “talking sexy ;) hahaha”

jinho: ill kill him

he is an enigma with a shit-eating grin ,,,,,,,

but he’s also hot. and has perfect proportions,,,,,,,,,,

you,,,,,,,are a fashion major,,,,,,,,who knows the legends about ko shinwon

about how he’s nothing but fire to play with

that being said

you are absolutely, utterly, one hundred percent, totally infatuated with him

he’s been your muse since you first stepped into the fashion building and saw him making his way down the hall

half of someones finished project still pinned to his shoulders, messy orange hair pulled up with bobby pins and that smile

almost,,,,,, angelically,,,,,, twisted?

you had no idea how to describe it - but you had remembered him and even though you knew no one else's name yet

he was the person you could visualize in an instance

you’d learned his name at your first student held fashion show, where to your dismay he had already been picked by someone else to be their model

and they’d skipped past calling out for him

“shinwon~”

you repeated it again on your lips in a small whisper “shinwon”

it was unique, it was different, and you really really started liking it

everything about him was unique, different, and you can guess,,,,,,,,you were really starting to like him

not like you would ever act on it though

shinwon seemed untouchable, not because he was standoffish - actually he seemed like he’d be super easy to get along with

it was because he was just,,,,,,,,he was just so ,,,,,,, unusual

and you wouldn’t consider yourself a shining star, you were like everyone else

waking up, doing your schoolwork, trying your best to breakthrough in fashion

you had a small group of friends - you had your regular hangout spots - your favorite kind of coffee flavor

you were simple, you would say, and shinwon was not

that’s why he gave you so much inspiration

if you were one speck in the galaxy, he was like a whole milkyway

you had started off just admiring from afar, but as time went back you started sketching too

at first it was what you could conjure from your memories of him

the flashes of him around the fashion department, when you saw him in the library, the orange hair - the sparkling oak brown eyes - the over-the-top outfit he pulled off effortlessly

and when you think you’d filled up half of your sketchbook with stills of him

you started to envision him in your designs

actually, you had lied, you were a simple person

but your mind was not - you might have stuck to simple tones and patterns in your wardrobe

but when it came to clothes you made, you were vibrant and loud and risky

some of your professors had initially mixed up your work, thinking your submitted designs were someone elses

because well ,,,,,,,,,,,,, they just didn’t match

your designs were for someone,,,,,,,,,,,,,,someone like shinwon

bursting with confidence, immune to shame, always ready for a thrill

your goal had quickly went from being able to saying hi to him in the hallway

to one day having him wear an original creation of yours

but getting shinwon as your model was a feat

either he wasn’t doing the show at all, or he was everyone elses number one pick

with long, lithe limbs and an almost wonderland like face

that is ,,,,,,,,,,,,,, until the final project for the semester came up

you were expecting it all to go as usual

the older fashion majors would get first dibs on their models - someone would pick shinwon (if he was even showing up)

and you’d only have to go back to drawing him with your designs rather than seeing them come to life

but to your almost painstakingly obvious shock

that was not the case

shinwon did volunteer to model for the final project - but,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,no one was picking him

actually - everyone was actively avoiding him

and when your turn came around you couldn’t believe you were finally getting to say it

“i’ll pick ko shinwon.”

suddenly there was a swarm of muffled whispers - you couldn’t hear anything clearly but as shinwon strode over to you

he gave you a once over and winked - and the was enough to make your entire body flare up

after everyone got settled with their models, you were shaking with anticipation as shinwon slipped into the seat across from you

“are you cold or am i just so handsome you can’t help shivering?”

he jokes, running a hand through his hair for added effect

“y-yes”

you answer, stupidly unsure of what else to say

he lets out a laugh, leaning over to pat the top of your head which once again sends you into a blank

“cute, so - let’s see what you’ll be dressing me up in huh?”

he leans over and you flounder as you flip to the page with the outfit you’ve chosen to create for your final

it’s inspired by 80s punk and glam - rhinestones, spikes, rainbows

shinwon’s eyes light up when he sees it and he looks at you with a giant smile

“where have you been all my life - this is totally my style!”

i know,,,,,i made it thinking about you,,,,,,,,,,,

is what you want to say - but you just stutter over your words instead

“o-oh, im glad you like it,,,”

he nudges at your elbow and you think electricity rides up your spine

“can’t wait to wear it! by the way-”

he moves his body, gracefully around the table so he’s standing beside you now

it makes everything else melt away as he leans in closer to your face with his own

“don’t listen to what people say about me - and trust me, ok?”

it’s,,,, cryptic - and in the moment you had no clue what he was talking about - but he’s your muse

and he’s inches too close to you

so really - it goes over your head as you nod with moonstruck stars in your eyes

shinwon says his goodbyes and tells you to text him when you want to do measurements

you only realize after he’s gone that,,,,,,,,,,you don’t have his number

so you approach an upperclassmen who usually works with him and politely ask if she might have it

she stops what she’s doing and sighs

“you really picked shinwon for your final project - you’re crazy!”

you look around - not sure if she’s really talking to you - until she huffs

“this is the final - you can’t rely on someone like him!”

someone like him?

“wh-why not, he’s done other shows?”

she shakes her head

“other shows aren’t the final project. he might just not show up on the day or he might get the clothes dirty. he’s fun when there are no consequences but you know this is worth fifty percent of our grade right?”

you’re left sort of speechless and she just mutters that she pities you as she scribbles down the number in your sketchbook and hands it back to you

you turn and realize other students are eyeing you from their station

a lot of them are already doing measurements on their models, while yours

well shinwon just left

you hadn’t stopped him - he just said he had to go

you feel something twist in your stomach but you ignore it

he had said it right - not to listen, and to trust him

the first couple of weeks go by,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, perfectly

you finally suck it up after typing and deleting a text to shinwon about measurements

spending nearly half a day trying to come up with a casual and cool way of asking

and all you get in response is a misspelled “yeha” from him when you make a date and time

you think it’s goofy and cute

and shinwon does show up

charming, joking, making you embarrassed and happy all in the same breath as you take his measurements

wiggling his eyebrows when you ask him to take his shirt off for the chest measurement

excitedly rambling about this underground show he’s seeing on the weekend

mind you - you and him haven’t ever had a conversation before this

shinwon just naturally opens up - having no problem doing the talking as you either 1) stare at him like a puppy or 2) nod enthusiastically in agreement to whatever he’s saying

you’re pretty sure he can tell how much you admire him and with anyone else you’d be dead from the shyness

but with him it’s like,,,,,,,,,it’s like he’s a celebrity to you

so it’s not that bad to be so so so enamored

his flirting doesn’t come off as anything romantic either, just part of his persona

and despite those doubts from other students

“he could just now show up” “he isn’t super reliable” “he might go to a party and just forget in the morning to show up!”

it doesn’t happen - when you need him, shinwon is there

and it’s like a dream come true - watching your outfits slowly come to life on his perfect figure

there is a hiccup at some point

shinwon agrees to meet you on a thursday evening for some help - you had initially been shy about asking him to come and look at fabrics with you

you don’t really ask models for that kind of advice

but when you’d mentioned - he’d been the one to get all giddy at the thought

and, with your heart over the moon, you waited outside the fashion building

for two hours

your phone was barren of any texts - any calls

and even though it hit 10 pm and the store was closed - you stuck it around for a little while

but he ,,,,,,,,,, didn’t show up

it’s fine! he probably had to cram for an exam or something - he seems like the type to push studying to the last minute

you make up the excuse and nod to yourself, happy with the conclusion you’ve drawn

pushing down any doubt that might have tried to bubble up

and it’s just a hiccup - because shinwon bumps into you three days later and snaps his fingers

“AH! we were supposed to go shopping right? i totally forgot! please forgive me! shinwon has been a bad boy!”

he clasps his hands together and pouts and you laugh, telling him it’s totally fine

yuto and jinho who are beside him look confused and so shinwon introduces you as you shyly hand over your sketchbook

because shinwon insists you show his friends your outfit planned

“wow, you’re so talented - these look so much like shinwon.”

yuto compliments, flipping to some of the old drawings you had of shinwon

you forgot about them and try to stutter out an excuse but shinwon is already sticking his nose between the pages with wonder

“woah! you’ve drawn me so much!”

you clasp your hands together - awkward and shy

jinho takes note of the way you can’t help but smile as shinwon continues to muse about how much he likes your drawings

and when you finally get your sketchbook back - shinwon promises he will never forget when you ask him to do something again

he does this by taking your hands in his own and giving them a squeeze

you’re so happy you can’t even speak and again,,,,,,,,,,,,jinho takes note of that

as you scurry past them - realizing you’re late for class now, he turns to shinwon with a tilt of his head

“they seem really sweet. are you sure you’re being nice to them?”

shinwon rolls his eyes

“im always nice”

“no - you did forget to go shopping with them.”

shinwon puffs out his chest with a whine

“because i woke up on the roof at like 5pm - i didn’t remember my own name hyung. now stop grilling me about it - they weren’t mad and so why are you?”

jinho pulls his lips back into a tight line - yuto breaks the tension with a question about lunch and shinwon ignores the side glances jinho still throws his way

you really aren’t mad, just like shinwon said

because he shows up when you ask him to for some extra measurements and test runs on the runway

he’s the same silly, weird, and lovely boy as usual

playing with the sleeves of the half-finished top piece you’re working on -

showing you the new candy bracelet he got

putting his arm around you when he leans over to look at your new sketches

knowing damn well your head goes spinning

“you’re cute when you get all nervous - do you really think im that handsome?”

he makes the joke again and you try to answer but all you can squeak out is “yes?”

he even offers to make it up to you for not showing up - the offer is to go to mcdonalds but it’s still sweet - and you assure him it’s fine, you’re not angry - not at all

but ,,,,,,,, the happiness of those moments with him dulls as more and more hiccups begin to happen

he texts you that he can’t make it to the practice runway - he’s sick

you understand

then he doesn’t text you or tell you anything on the next one - you don’t have your model and all the students shake their head with pity at you

the final date approaches faster

and shinwon,,,,,,,,,,,,,goes ghost

you don’t want to be that person and over text him - but you have to, this is about your grade

suddenly the worries you’d been told about in the beginning of all this start coming true

maybe he got super sick - i should ask his friends, but i don’t know them that well - did i do something wrong?

you don’t get it - every day without word from him is another day closer to the final runway

it stresses you out and you notice the acne coming in - the refusal to eat because it makes your stomach sick

you’re running across campus because you’ve pulled another allnighter working on your designs and fell asleep on accident

when you slam right into someones chest

your books go flying, the yogurt you had bought falls and explodes somewhere behind you

and when you look up you see ------- what was his name ------ jinho?

“oh gosh, im so sorry”

you mutter, leaning down to get your things

jinho realizes you’re scrambling and he helps you - for which you bow over ten times and apologize again for bothering him

but before you continue on your run he asks you, much to your shock

“have you seen shinwon?”

your face pales and you can’t move forward even though you know class has started

you shake your head slowly and jinho lets out a sigh

“how long has it been?”

“maybe two weeks....”

“ah. ill talk to him.”

you perk up - and then just as instantly your shoulders sag - you shouldn’t be so excited over someone whose been ignoring you for no apparent reason

“no it’s ok-”

“isn’t he supposed to be helping you with your project. it’s not ok - he’s being a brat.”

you don’t want to argue because jinho is older and closer to shinwon, but you also don’t want it to seem like you’re begging for his help

“please,,,,,just ask him if i did something wrong?”

you look into jinho’s eyes and it clicks for him

“you like shinwon don’t you?”

your books fall out of your hands again and this time it’s not because you’ve been knocked over

you just don’t know how to answer the sudden question - because you really,,,,,,,,,,,,don’t know

“he’s my muse.”

you start

“and im just,,,,,,,i just don’t want to lose that.”

jinho leans down to help with your books again, he gives you one last look before turning and heading toward the dorms

you don’t even bother getting to class anymore - you just drag yourself to the workrooms in the fashion department and sit beside your final project

it looks much less extravagant on the mannequin then it does on shinwon

and when you open your sketchbook it flips to one of your first drawings you ever did of him

it hurts to think about him.....not even because of my grades......but because........

you shake your head and lay it down on the table

no, you always have to remember what you say. you’re a small tiny star - that boys a milkyway.

jinho finds shinwon in the bathroom of the dorm, the ramones are blasting from his phone and he’s got his hands covered in black hair dye

jumping when he sees his older friend, shinwon grumbles that jinho should at least knock

but jinho crosses his arms, stern gaze unwavering on shinwon

“why are you ignoring that sweet fashion major who obviously idolizes you?”

“im not ignoring them - they’re ignoring me.”

shinwon points a finger

“and no one ignores me, you know this.”

he turns to look at himself in the mirror - making a face as the old orange goes back to his natural thick black

jinho cocks an eyebrow

“really? i just bumped into them and the poor kid looks like a mess.”

“are you saying im lying - look at my phone!”

jinho picks it up from where it’s charging on the bathroom sink

“this isn’t your phone........ is it new?”

“yeah - my last gig gave it to me along with some free clothes, my old ones on my desk but im using this one now”

he scrolls through the texts messages, gagging at some of them, and he finds what he can only assume is your number

it doesn’t have your name - all it says is

“cutest fashion major ive met in a hot minute”

jinho opens the messages and ,,,,,, it’s true - shinwon has sent an abundance of texts to you but ,,,,,,, none of them are answered

it takes three minutes for jinho to figure out what’s going on

he picks up shinwon’s old phone - find your contact (saved with the same corny name) and opens it

shinwon typed your number in..................wrong

and in his old phone are the messages from you that going unanswered

jinho groans

“ko shinwon - you’re an idiot.”

shinwon pokes his head out of the bathroom - “i know that, but what did i do this time?”

you pick your head up after what seems like hours - drool embarrassingly on the edge of the workroom table

did i fall asleep here? guess i missed more than one class.......

you stretch and look down at your sketchbook with tired eyes

“oh you’re awake?”

you jump at the sound of the voice and nearly fall out of your chair when you see shinwon sitting across from you

he’s,,,,,,,,,he’s got black hair now - and he’s not wearing his usual outrageously expensive outfits

he’s just got a flannel over some simple jeans

the sleeves are rolled up and you see those candy bracelets he loves making, the silver rings you’ve sketched on his hands a million times over

“sh-shinwon?”

“wanna hear something hilarious?”

he pulls his phone out and grins

“i was texting the wrong number for a whole two weeks - the person must think im insane! well,,,,,,,,they wouldn’t be wrong.”

you don’t understand - you look down at the screen and see the contact name

“cutest fashion major-”

“ah ah ah don’t look at that - look at the texts.”

he waves his hand and you read them one by one

“hey - do you need me for measurements? you know my body is always ready!” “hey hey hey” “doesn’t a designer need their model?” “are you mad at me? did i do something dumb when i was drunk and i dont remember?” “heeeeeeeelllllllllloooooooo?” “ill make it up to you~ shinwon was a bad boy wasn’t he?” “hey, is everything alright?”

you still don’t really understand - you look up and shinwon is resting his cheek on his palm

“i got a new phone which is why i wasnt getting your texts and you weren’t getting mine.”

something that feels better then relief washes over you

“o-oh, i thought you just ,,,,,,,,, you just didn’t want to help me anymore?”

shinwon makes a dramatic noise and jumps up from his seat - pointing at the outfit on the mannequin

“and miss out on wearing THAT masterpiece, never!”

he rounds the table

“it’s the best design ive ever seen - from the people here and from the magazine shoots ive done.”

he looks at you and for the first time they’re not those crazy, sparkling with mischief eyes

they’re almost,,,,,,,,,,,,soft

“i really love it. i won’t let you down.”

suddenly the stress and the tiredness that had hung over you seems to vanish

you get up to and smile up at him

“well then - i should finish it quick. i won’t let you down either!”

shinwon grins and when he reaches over to ruffle your hair like he’s done many times before

it’s like gravity refuses to let him - instead all the wires in his brain connect and he puts his hand on your shoulder gently

tugging you into his chest and into a hug

he smells like ,,,,,,,, fresh laundry and there’s the residual lingering from the hair dye

but there’s also the smell of his skin and the warmth of his tall frame

it sends an earthquake through you - but it makes you feel safe too

and shinwon,,,,,,,,,,,,shinwon can’t believe that there’s someone on this earth who fits so perfectly into his arms

for the first time in...............ever ...........shinwon pulls away and misses the feeling instantly

he doesn’t show it - he starts blabbering to forget the mess starting up in his brain

and you are content, as always, to go along with him

shinwon feels like something has taken him over when he offers to walk you to your dorm and you think nothing of it

waving goodbye as you go inside and some students pass by shinwon in awe

ko shinwon,,,,,,,,walked someone home? and is staring at the spot they just stood in with - is that - is that -?

this time shinwon keeps to his promise - actually he probably goes up and beyond that

he even starts asking if he can come over and see your progress

sitting beside you as you work - much to the shock of everyone else

because,,,,,,,, shinwon is never one to sit still

he’s there for measurements, the show, and then he’s out

doing whatever it is he does on campus

someone asks you about it - but you just go “he wanted to come!”

it doesn’t seem all that remarkable to you - you’re just happy to see he’s proven everyone who doubted and didn’t pick him wrong

you start to talk more too, you get excited as the final project comes to a close and the day of the fashion show approaches

you explain to shinwon the colors you chose, the fabrics, the inspo

and he stares at you in wonder this time

but you just can’t wait to see him under the lights - glittering like the beautiful model he is

on the day of the show - you’re excited to see your friends and even some of shinwon’s show up

and as you get ready behind the stage - tailoring the pieces to sit just perfect on shinwon

he watches your fingers work and your concentration and you apologize when you lean in to apply some makeup to his eyes

but he just welcomes it - your touch which was just like everyone elses when this started

feels like heaven all of a sudden

you hear your professor call out the order for the models - shinwon is last and it makes you nervous but you’re also happy because

this outfit is showstopper - it’s shinwon to a T

and it deserves to be the best, so it should be saved for last

you fix one of the lapels and make sure shinwon’s accessories are in order before you take his hands in yours

you look into his eyes - it’s dark behind the curtains but shinwon sees you clear as day

“thank you - you’re the only person who could wear what i’ve made. shinwon, you’re my muse.”

you breathe as you say the word - the word you’ve wanted to say for so long now

“im your muse?”

“yes, im honored to make this outfit for you. and im so happy you worked with me. i couldn’t have done it without you. you look so beautiful-”

shinwon can’t stop what comes over him

it’s not stupid lust like it usually is with him - it’s another worldly force this time

it’s what they sing about in all those love songs - all those songs about wanting to be connected to someone

“no - you look beautiful.”

he presses his lips to yours before you can finish your sentence

and his name is called out for the order

he rushes to the line and you

you are frozen - unsure of what just happened

am in a movie? did shinwon just ,,,,,,,,,,,, kiss me?

you can’t even process it - one of your classmates comes and tugs you toward the audience

you look over your shoulder and shinwon is staring at you from the line

oh my god - i think shinwon just kissed me for real.

the fashion show is a haze - you want to pay attention, but you keep touching your lips

it’s not until the shinwon steps out into the limelight and struts with everything he’s got

flaunting your design, making it move and sparkle just like you had seen in your vision

the crowd all let out a wave of oohs~ and the professors who are judging seem to be impressed

and when he makes his way to the turn - he spots you - the background music seems to stop

the people seem to disappear

he was fucking right - you are beautiful

you get rave reviews on your outfit - people flock to you after the show to ask about it

you want to answer questions and thank everyone - but you are looking for him

you’re looking for shinwon

who is in turn, looking for you - ignoring the people who try to get in his way

he pulls you out from the conversation - waving off the complaints of others

and tugs you through the crowded stage until you guys are alone - stuffed into a corner of costume racks and abandoned makeup stations

“shinwon why did you-”

“am i just your muse? am i just someone you idolize - or do you - do you -”

he has never struggled this much in his life

you’re looking at him with such purity that it feels overwhelming as he puts his hands on your face and kisses you again

you melt into it and he eats it up - until you’re caught by stagehands who usher you annoyingly back out into the mess of people

jinho, yuto, hongseok and hui who came to see shinwon spot you guys and jinho’s eyes avert right to your hand - in shinwon’s

he smiles - he knew all along

because yes, you looked at shinwon like he was the only man in the world but

jinho had never seen shinwon text someone seven times in a row

and he sure as hell had never seen shinwon reject an oncoming hookup like he had for the past couple of weeks

“so - something you want to tell us?”

hongseok asks, and hui looks at you and then at shinwon

shinwon shrugs

“nah not really, just that ,,,,,,,,,,, well,,,,,,,,,,,”

he shakes your hands a little and you go red

“looks like ko shinwon is off the market! sorry ladies and gentlemen - i think ive found,,,,,,,,,,,,what’s a word for it,,,,,,,,,,,,,, my muse?”

so dating shinwon,,,,,,,,,is like a whole new world for you

you were always so sure you’d be a secret admirer - at most someone who got to work with him

but now you were like ,,,,,,, you were his significant other ,,,,,,,,,,

you were basically like an overnight star

you showed up the next morning after the fashion show and everyone was just like

“YOU LOCKED DOWN SHINWON? KO SHINWON? HOW? WAS IT MAGIC?”

shinwon is so dramatic you know he opened up his contacts and deleted nearly everyone he’d ever fooled around with and you’re like

that’s not necessary and he’s like

“once im committed im committed. i should delete hui’s number too i think he has a crush on me”

hui in his composition class: my shinwon senses are telling me im being clowned

no one knew,,,,,,,shinwon could love someone so hard

for most of his life he’s taken everything happy-go-lucky, he’s always just lived by the flow

but now he’s like ,,,,,,,,,, he’s like a changed person

you are the only thing he seems to put real effort into

which you actually know isn’t true, shinwon takes modeling seriously and although his studying is slacking

you are there to encourage him

because jinho and hongseok poking at him for never doing his homework is not going to get shinwon a degree

so you offer to help him study and your first dates consist on you trying to get him from a D to at least a C+ in most of his classes

he probably doesn’t even know how to properly use excel so you’re like babe let me

as you date him, you realize that the uniqueness you fell for in the first place stays true with shinwon

there’s so much more to him - like his musical talents and his secret nerdiness

and also the anxiety that sometimes spikes in his throat and that he plays off but that now,,,,,,,,,now he has someone who’ll take these thing seriously

you can see it - when he can’t figure out his schoolwork or when a gig gets canceled on him

the furrow of his brow - the silliness gone from his face and in the beginning he tries to keep up appearances

but you just pull his long body down to yours and you tell him that nothing in this world is going to stop him from being successful

“you were born to shine, shinwon. it’s why i saw you for a second and never forgot”

“babe.............omg you had a crush on me from first sight?”

“im trying to be serious ko shinwon”

him wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you in closer “i know but like oooo a crush on me hehe you’re so cute”

you: rolling your eyes but also it’s true,,,,,,kinda

he gives you a tour of the infamous madhouse dorm - stock full of vinyls, his guitar, and brand name clothes on the floor

you’re kinda like “ooo this is cute” picking up a sweater off the floor and he’s like that’s versace i think?

you: and it’s on the floor

shinwon, shrugging: i ran out of hangers

oh my god shopping for anything with shinwon is a trip he somehow always tries to buy something that’s shiny and not useful and you’re like hey hey no

you become his impulse control - like at least 75% of it. the other 25% is jinho yelling at him over the phone

he’s such a cutie pie he loves making those candy bracelets with little rainbow charms and he makes some for you with your favorite song lyrics

which he hums as he puts on your wrist

and you promise not to take it off - which shinwon is more proud about then he should be

gives you nose kisses a lot - ruffles your hair a lot - asks you to sit on his lap and you’re like no we’re in public

loves it when you sit behind him and put your hands in his hair as he flips through the tv channels or plays a video game

won’t admit how much it kinda turns him on when you tug it - but you learn

you once are making out and shinwon keeps trying to tug at your shirt and you’re just like “listen to me shinwon, stop rushing me.” and oooooooooh my gooooooooooood

he thinks he sees stars

you most of the time: his precious angel who he can make all blushy with just some cheesy words

you also: bosses him around and points out his bullshit (which he is very into)

you and shinwon probably rock halloween parties - even though you’re not to big on the whole scene - you make the costumes and they’re killer and shinwon is just like

“they made this. for me. only me. only i get to wear the clothes they made”

complains about how when you’re a rich famous designer everyone else is gonna get to wear your masterpieces

makes you promise you’ll make exclusive outfits just for him

he does the MOST embarrassing thing ever

he marches into the fashion dept workroom one afternoon and he’s like “everyone, psa: when im a model i want to by chosen by ONE person and ONE person only - you know who!”

he winks your way and the whole room (including you) groans

like no one was planning on it anyway shinwon - he just lives for theatrics doesn’t he

his modeling gigs usually last a long time and go late into the night and he doesn’t expect you to stay up or anything

maybe send a text and a photo or whatever

but when he comes back to the dorms and you’re waiting in his bed wearing one of his led zepplin tshirts he just

he just gets all giddy - can’t keep his hands to his damn self

but also shinwon is a bad texter to everyone

but you

you get constant updates and constant photos which are demanded to become your phone background now

hongseok told you to change it to hui as a joke once but you guys were both like

no,,,,,,,shinwon might actually cry

jinho basically adores you because you actually do your work and try to help improve shinwon

but he’s also big brother mode where he’s like shinwon you better not screw this up or i will end you :)

yuto silently agrees - so does basically everyone else

jealous shinwon is ,,,,,,, like a yappy baby puppy

wooseok visits campus - a younger friend of the groups and he doesn’t know you’re dating shinwon

but he thinks you’re SOOOOOOO cute and tells everyone and shinwon just goes huffy like

“no. mine.” and wooseok is like oh ok-

shinwon: “see my phone wallpaper - it’s us kissing. see these sneakers - it was a gift from them on our anniversary - see this bracelet on their wrist? i made it and -”

everyone: OK SHUT UP

you finished your old sketchbook and you wanted to throw it out - but shinwon salvaged it and sometimes he opens it and traces the sketches you did of him

and he just,,,,,,,,,,feels so good knowing you’ve loved him for a while - and he thought he’d never have something so real and powerful

you once jokingly tell shinwon as you’re sitting cross-legged across from him in the park that you used to say you were a tiny star and he was a milkyway

and he just blinks and shakes his head

“no - if im a milkyway, you’re my entire galaxy.”

and then hung his head because OK CORNY but it’s true,,,,,,it’s so true

shinwon is always opening up the world for you - from music to art to whatever

he’s still your muse - even if he’s your boyfriend

but now instead of having to see him from all these miles away - like he’s some untouchable force

he’s sitting beside you

strumming on his guitar, hair messy and only an arms length away

you lean over and kiss his neck and he chuckles as he continues to play and you continue to sketch

only to realize some things never change

the page full of shinwon, and his heart is full of you ~

#pentagon scenarios #pentagon au #pentagon imagines #shinwon scenarios #shinwon imagines #shinwon au #shinwon #pentagon #ptg scenarios #ptg au #ptg imagines #college au #writing commissions #this really ......... helped me

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fuck-customers · 6 years

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I Finally Got My Ass Out of Retail Here Are Some Of My Favorite Stories

So I finally got my ass out of retail and I am over the moon. Five/Six years of retail drama in various contexts are DONE. I'm in a better position now thank goodness but I want to share some of my favorite stories from my time in retail, sort of in chronological order:

- My first job was at the Orange Apron Hell. My store was the busiest and highest earning in the entire district so the overhead phone was constant. Now, this was my first serious job so I took it very seriously, and I was also quite young and not cynical like I am now lol. Anyways, because Hell Depot is a hardware store, we naturally aren't a Buy Electronics Best or Depot of Office Supplies. We do have an electrical dept, but it's a hardware store, so it's mostly lighting and electrical fixtures such as copper wire and whatnot. The overhead phone is going nuts and so I decide to pick it up because I was bored. "Cesspool of Orange Misogyny, how may I direct your call?" "Computers!" "...Excuse me?" "I NEED YOUR COMPUTER DEPARTMENT." "...I'm sorry ma'am we don't have a computer department..." "YES YOU DO." "No we don't." "YES!!! YOU DO!! I'VE SEEN IT!!" "Ma'am, I assure you we don't sell computers here." "How long have you been working there?!" "Eight months." "ASK YOUR COWORKER WHERE YOUR COMPUTER DEPARTMENT IS." "Ma'am we do not have a computer department..."

"YES YOU DO. It has the special internet cords!"

Now...we DO sell ethernet cords. So I told her it was the Electrical Dept. that she needed but I did explain that we only sell the cords, some USB drives, and then the electrical components to computer wiring. She kind of had an epiphany that it was Electrical that she was looking for but before she could make a fuss I transferred her.

- Second story was the time I worked in a high end sewing machine dealer. The machines we sold were on average $8,000 - $10,000 and made in Europe. They were NICE machines and all jobs considered, this was probably my best retail job, even though it presented it's fair share of challenges.

Our clientele at this job was mainly retired, rich white ladies. Because this business was a small family one, a lot of the admin work was done by hand, including ALL of our quotes. We had quotes that were five or six years old, and periodically, we'd have to sift through around 500 of them and contact each and every one. And because most of our clients were older, many did not have an email, only a phone. One quote I called an elderly gentleman picked up and I asked for his (assuming) wife, and he somberly told me she passed away six months ago. Yikes.

But the call I want to talk about is this older woman I called regarding a machine. I cheerfully introduced myself and she cut me off mid sentence to say, "I'm very sorry dear, you must speak up, I have hearing issues and you need to speak louder and clear." So I up my voice a notch. "I'm sorry I still cannot hear you." Ok, up a notch. "You have to speak very slowly!!"

So I slow down a bit. "Slower!!"

Finally, when I get to a good point for her, I'm basically yelling while taking three to eight seconds to slowly pronounce each word (yes, even the "I"s', "a"s', and "no"s'). The salon next door could hear me I was so loud. And at one point she couldn't hear the name I was spelling out, and she asked me to be louder, and if I were to be any louder I realized I would be quite literally (and I mean QUITE literally) screaming into the phone, at the point which I suddenly broke down laughing (my coworker did the same). I genuinely felt bad for doing so as being hard of hearing is nothing to mock, but the fact I was holding the mic on the phone so close to my mouth and away from my ear and yelling into the thing just...broke me. I apologized (she didn't hear me laugh) and eventually hung up once we were done, which afterwards my throat was sore for three days.

- The final story I have is from my most recent retail job at the Co of Pet. Nearing my last day and this lady calls... "Why do they call some cats Tortles?!"

"...Do you mean Torties? As in Tortoiseshell?"

"Yes!! Why do they call them that?"

I proceed to explain to her that it's simply the pattern of their fur that earned them that name, but she was not convinced. She didn't understand that Tortoiseshell cats were no different from any other cat, and demanded to know how they got their name, even though I just told her why. She also asked,

"Do they have sharp fangs?"

Again, I had to conceal my laughter as I bluntly told her every single cat in the world has sharp teeth, it's part of their evolution.

"But are they sharper than other cats?! Is that why they're called Tortles?!"

I'm beyond the point of caring and I'm a cynical bitch now so I'm rolling my eyes, and my tone definitely indicates that her questions were dumb as shit. The whole conversation lasted about 15 minutes and it was mostly her trying to figure out why tortoiseshells were called "Tortles" and if they were, essentially, cats ("Do they bite?" "Do they scratch?" "Do they have sharper claws than other cats?"). ANYWAYS for any of you looking to end the vicious loop of retail, there is hope, I believe in you, and I hope these stories make you laugh!

And finally FUCK CUSTOMERS ESPECIALLY ONES OVER THE PHONE

#submissions #fuck customers #cashier problems #happy ending #fuck retail #submission

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beneaththeweirwoodtree-blog · 6 years

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Sansa Stark, victim blaming and the lie of being “A Good Girl”

I’m a feminist and I love Sansa Stark. To some, these are contradictory. To me, Sansa Stark is a shining example of a woman who played by the rules that were given to her, saw the rules fail her, and was victim-blamed by much of a fandom. This is the same pattern that we see reflected daily all around us.

Allow me to explain:

In the cast of characters, Sansa easily fits into the category of The Ingenue, aka The Good Girl. According to tvtropes, the ingenue is described as, “kind, sweet-natured, polite and optimistic, and on the sliding scale of idealism vs. cynicism, she falls very much on the idealistic side. Her innocent will often inspire protective feelings in heroic characters, and she is frequently one of the more beautiful characters...Unfortunately, her innocent also often makes her woefully naive, making her a prime target for a villain seeking to take advantage of her.”

Sansa Stark is a product of her upbringing: an upbringing that includes being taught the rules of society. Rules that dictate what she should do (sew, sing, marry well and have babies), who she should speak to and how (Courtesy is a lady’s armor), and how she should be (innocent, polite, kind, loyal). All of these qualities and expectations define the Westorosi ideal of The Good Girl.

Throughout A Game of Thrones, Sansa does her best to follow the rules that she has learned from her parents and her septa. Yes, Sansa is unkind to her sister and to Jon (she’s a teenage girl, not a saint), I would argue that her bias is tied to what she has been taught is acceptable behavior. She repeatedly states that Arya is bad--because Arya acts in a way that her septa and family has told her is unbecoming for her. Her behavior towards Jon is a reflection of what she observes from her mother. Arya and Jon go against the rules that she has been taught, and so they are deemed bad and unseemly. It should be noted that others in the story also seem to share this opinion towards Arya and Jon, though many people only fault Sansa for holding it.

However, when Sansa comes to King’s Landing, her loyalties are conflicted and her courtesies do nothing to help her in the face of people far more skilled at manipulation than she. Joffrey is her betrothed; does her loyalty lie with him or her family? She believes Cersei to be not only beautiful, but also kind. She has never been shown the evils of the world, and so she cannot see them when they are right in front of her face. The rules she has been taught until this point in her life don’t help her in the face of conflict, leaving her at the mercy of the Lannisters and (later) Littlefinger.

“She has the traitor’s blood, not me. I’m good, ask Septa Mordane, she’ll tell you. I only want to be Joffrey’s loyal and loving wife.”

--Sansa IV, AGOT

All her life, Sansa Stark was taught what to do and how to do it (politely, one must never cause offense). She was taught that if she followed the rules and was a good girl, her life would be filled with beauty and pain would be far away. When she is dragged before the court in AGOT, she tries to make them understand that she is good. If she is good, nothing bad can happen to her.

This is the same struggle that we ask women and girls to face daily. We, modern and supposedly enlightened people, teach our daughters to be Good Girls (polite, loyal, kind, pure) as if this will keep them safe. Look at the way women apologize more than men. Look at the way women ask for promotions vs. how men ask for promotions. We, like Sansa Stark, are (by and large) taught that we should be kind and courteous to others. But when we follow those rules and they fail us, society is quick to blame us for it--just like some critics do of Sansa Stark. Literally, in this day and age being polite gets women killed.

When women are firm in negotiating salaries and workload (going against that idea of being polite), we’re known as a ball buster (and not in a positive way), but if we’re too polite or “soft,” we’re told that we should have negotiated harder and it is our own fault that we aren’t paid more.

Women should be sexy enough to appeal to men, but not too sexy--then you’re a slut. And if you’re attacked while wearing a sexy outfit? Well, you were probably leading him on.

Women learn to turn unwanted attention away politely because if we hurt his feelings, he might physically hurt us. But if he does, we’re asked why weren’t firmer in turning him away.

We do our daughters a grave disservice by teaching them how to be a Good Girl and then blame them when Good Girl rules let them down. The contempt that Sansa Stark receives from other characters in the ASOIAF universe and from fans is victim blaming. She followed the Good Girl rules; they failed her; it’s clearly her fault. Nevermind that the rules were shit and the whole thing was rigged from the get-go.

My point is this: Sansa Stark endured. Sansa Stark survived. Sansa Stark is a badass.

Ladies of the world, we are too.

#sansa stark #sansa stark meta #sansa meta #asoiaf meta #game of thrones meta #why i need feminism #feminism #sansa stark is a badass #I will defend this character until the day I die #sansa #sansa stark defense squad

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thewitchronin-blog · 6 years

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Stitching Magic and the Fuck-It-Blanket

if that title didn’t get your attention, I don’t know what will. I’ve seen very little about a major part of my craft: sewing! So here’s what I do, what I relate some basic stitches to, and how to make the blanket titled “fuck it.”

Running stitch/straight stitch

To work quickly, but hold strong (my most common! It’s the most pliable, so you can do the most with it.)

Chain stitch

To weigh down, to bind. Also, it looks GORGEOUS.

Backstitch

To work backwards in time, or to undo something that has been done (think like undoing a curse for someone else that you didn’t cast.) Protection.

Blanket stitch

To protect.

Some notable ways to use this information:

Subtle cursing/passive-aggressive cursing. Embroider them a pretty thing, but it’s laced with poison.

Protective blankets. (I’m an adult and I still have a favorite blanket.)

Wards

Sigils

Pillows for good sleep

Literally endless possibilities here folks

But Ronin, you cry, why are you rambling about this?

BECAUSE, BUCKLE UP, MY DUDES: T-SHIRT BLANKETS.

That’s right, my dudes. All those band shirts you’ve had since you were in that emo phase that are probably sitting in a bag for donation somewhere or you’re too sentimental to let go of? Repurpose them. They’re your favorite shirts, or they were-- so they’re just teeming with your energy. You can make them and sell them for your profit, and imbue them with protective energies, or keep it to yourself to feel comfy. Here’s what you’ll need:

AT LEAST 20 SHIRTS. I cannot stress this enough. (Unless you want to be extra fancy and do color blocks as well as patterned blocks!)

You can sew together the scrap fabric from the backs and sleeves to make up the back, or you can buy some soft fleece or something. Up to you.

If you want some insulation, might wanna pick up some quilting material too. It’s this fancy insert that you sew to your actual pattern. I don’t know how to describe it, but if you go to your local fabric store, they probably can help you more than I can.

Thread and needle (size doesn’t matter if you’re hand-stitching. If you aren’t.... good luck.) Don’t forget you can use color magic with this too!! Personally, I used black thread as I find it the most pliable, but that’s my correspondence.

Here we go. Gather your shit.

Basically, you’re quilting. If you know how to do that, disregard this and you do you and have fun with it. If you don’t, I’m not much of a quilter, but I’ll tell you what I did.

Pick your pattern. I recommend doing a Google search of different things to get some inspiration. Mine that is in progress is a collage, so it’s just a shit ton of designs sewn together.

Cut out the pieces you want to use. A common way of doing this is folding the shirts and laying out what you’re going to do before you cut it, or you can wing it like I did and just cut out the designs and use those and sew ‘em together. (Tbh, my ‘fuck it blanket’ -- yes, that’s what my project is called -- is turning out pretty cool.)

Start sewing! Charge as you sew with your intentions. Picture protection or whatever you want to use woven into the stitching as you sew the pieces together. (Hell, you can even curse it if you want for nightmares or poor sleep. You do you, my dude.)

Realize, OH SHIT, I DON’T HAVE ENOUGH TEES!

Relax. You can do one of three things: wait until you get bored of more shirts, go to Hot Topic and buy that My Chemical Romance shirt you’ve wanted since you were like 13, or go to your local thrift store (which is what my broke ass did.)

Return with more shirts.

Keep sewing. Ta-da! You’re done with the front!

If you’re using that quilt liner thingy, sew that on.

Sew on the back.

Yes, this is a lot of sewing. But it’s all pretty basic and easy to do, so there’s that.

If you’re worried about the security of the liner or the back, feel free to run the blanket under the sewing machine. What I mean by that is do more stitching, through the liner, front and back to make it more secure. (Honestly, that’s a very quilting thing.) I did that without the liner, but you don’t have to do it. (Maybe you do? Idk, see how it holds up. If not, you can always go back later and fix it.)

Ta-da! You now have a badass t-shirt blanket that’s entirely custom and how YOU want it!

Anyway, I hope y’all have fun with this. I certainly did.

May the stars watch over you!

Ronin

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thedappleddragon · 3 years

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last night I dreamed that I was an archeologist tortoise and I was looking at dozens of “human” skeletons in Buckingham palace that was also my backyard. the skeletons all looked like combo human and turtle because the whole torso looked basically like the first google image result for sea turtle skeleton. then my sister woke me up, giving me a comforter and telling me my mom need help with some things. cleaned up around the living room and did some laundry and boiled some eggs and made meatloaf and swept the floor. the meatloaf turned out surprisingly good, idk what I did differently. I evemtually went back to my room and tried to remember what I wanted to do today. last night as I was falling asleep I told myself that I was gonna clear off my desk so I could finally use it, so I moved some stuff around and set up my laptop. I havent been able to sit at a real actual desk in SO LONG and its SO NICE to have just like a space where I can sit down and work and have a chair that will support my back instead of sitting cross legged on my bed or laying down while doing stuff on my laptop. it almost makes me feel productive even I'm just playing the sims. I feel especially cool when im just typing out whatever bullshit because it makes me feel like im at an office job typing up ~important documents~ :) idk man I think quarantine has changed me lmao. if im getting this many emotions from just being able to sit down at a desk and do ANYTHING idk how im gonna handle collage. I keep calling whetever im doing (playing the sims, scrolling through Tumblr, typing up this summary of the day) work because it just. feels nice sitting at a desk and typing. even if it’s dumb bullshit!! idk how to describe it I just feel amazing. it makes me feel like im writing a paper with all the horrible parts like research and thinking. the sound of typing on my MacBook makes me feel like im in school again, but without the horrible stressful parts. idk mn I know I've been going on about this desk and stuff for too long and im gonna hate it if I eventually read back through these daily logs but I just feel so nice. ill change topics anyway. I hung up my calendar again! I literally didn't have any open wall space aside from maybe the wall behind my bed but why the hell would I put a calendar where I can't see it. instead its kind of hanging above my closet. I pinned it to the wooden board in the “doorway” (idk what other word to use) where there would normally be sliding doors that open and shut if they hadn't been taken off YEARS ago. I also played a lot of the sims 4, juggling aspirations for 5 sims. I quit because I got frustrated that all my sims are dumb and the ai Is buggy and doesn't let me do what I want them to do. I also plopped in a house on my family’s old lot and spent some time adjusting the colors and the trees and adding those paper craft cieling things that can either have stars or leaves or snowflakes that came in the free winter holiday stuff pack and holy shit as soon as I found those I think they became my new favorite decoration item. I threw them everywhere but eventually took down most of them, leaving some leaf ones in the bedroom. I was gonna move in a family of a bunch of young adults and children to help with the first kid’s serial romantic aspiration and one of the twin’s social butterfly aspiration, but I ended up not doing that in favor of just decorating more and playing with the family some more. one thing I realized while playing is that there are fucking MICE in my CIELING. well not really in the cieling, in the attic, but I can hear them chewing on shit and its sucks. I would turn on a fan to drown out the noise but my room is fucking FREEZING. I threw the blanket back over my window hoping that it would keep heat from escaping but I don't think that really did anything. so after freezing my ass off I got fed up and put on fluffy socks under normal socks, wore my owl onesie as pants over my shorts, put on my comfy (oversized hoodie), and threw a fluffy blanket over my shoulders. thankfully I was pretty cozy after that, but as I type this after taking off the cosy and blanket, I can feel my toes getting cold again. damnit. ANYWAY after quitting the sims for the night I ate some salad and got a heart shaped crouton :) and I scrolled through Tumblr for a bit. then I decided to finally work on the paws my friend wanted. but I couldn't find the pattern so I instead worked on the brown paws instead. I could only work on them so much, since I still have to finish the lining before I can do much else. I attached the backs of the fingers to the back of the hand. I didnt get much down but what matters is that I did SOMETHING. I'm gonna keep an eye out for that pattern that I need, and if I cant find it, I'll just make a new pattern. tbh I think thad’s be the better way to go anyway since I wouldn't have to figure out how the fuck the old one goes together and I can also have a pattern that perfectly fits the foam underneath. also tbh i have mixed feeling about the white paws my friend wants. I like how dextrous they are and how easily you can emote and move your fingers, but I dont like how ovular I made the paw pads and the hints of black thread peaking out where I sewed the pads from the back. I WOULD just remake them with the free curl works pattern im using for the brown paws but I figure I might as well finish this pair since there’s already one done and the foam interior is already made. whatever. I dont wanna think about it too much. I also dont like the head that goes with the paws, it was a fish job in comparison to my first head and I kinda hate it. but I think I'll eventually get some longer fur for the neck and a hair poof and cheeks (maybe) and do a little refurbishing and give it to my friend if she ever wants it, since it matches the paws and all. I have lots of plans for my 2 WIP heads but not all the materials/motivation. plus I just need to let the ideas stir before I do unything, making sure they’re goof before I act on them. I'm exited that I can shave down fur relativey easily and evenly without an electric dog shaver, which opens up a lot of opportunities. anyway as I was working on the brown paws I had TAZ on in the background and it still baffles me a little bit how different griffin and Matt mercer operate as dms like holy shit. its really funny. and it got me thinking about how I wouldn't mind dming for my friend group if he chance ever arose. I DO have the forgotten realms campaign setting book. I haven't actually looked at it but I assume it has a few pre-built quests and plot lines n stuff in it. I'll probably take a better look at in the morning when it’s not 1:40 am. dang now I'm thinking about my Minecraft dnd idea again. I think the real problem keeping me from being a dm is that I CANNOT keep a straight face when doing improv/roleplaying, so I dont know how well I could hold together a world for them to play in. I would love to give it a try tho. not with the Minecraft idea at the same time, fuck no. I would need to do like. a classic vanilla dnd experience the first time, maybe even using our tiefling family characters since I'm at least a little familiar with them. can you dm and also play your own character? is that fair? is that a think you can do? I think that could be fun but also hard to juggle and also maybe kinda suck because you’d already know all the answers to all the puzzles. meh. actually now I kind of really want to look through thet book tonight instead of in the morning. also I mentioned overnight oats a few days ago I think, and the first morning it was kinda gross, the second time I ate it was still a little gross texture wise, but I finished it off tonight and it was pretty good. maybe next time I'll try it without the banana and a little less milk and maybe slice up an apple into little cubes for texture. hell yeah peanut butter apple cinnamon brown sugar overnight oats. that sound pretty dang good actually. I'll try that some time, but I dont think I can right now because I dont think we have any apples in the house. phooey. I should also probably put this oatmeal cp in the sink before it becomes impossible to clean. holy shit how long have I been writing? SEE THE DESK MAKES ME JUST WANNA KEEP WRITING AND WRITING FOREVER I FEEL SO PRODUCTIVE EVEN IF IM NOT DOING ANYTHING PRODUCTIVE!! I love just typing and typing forever its so soothing just hearing the tapping of the keyboard and getting my thought out without actually having to think that hard about it. goddamn im never gonna read back through this this is a nightmare lmao. no paragraph breaks no capitalization no nothin. I dont even wanna stop typing even though my arm is starting to hurt a little but from leaning the edge of the desk. now im thinking about the movie soul again and the cat as it rides on the escalator to the great beyond and how that dude in the band was the main characters student and how that scene with the girl trying to quit music and then immediately changed her mind didnt make any sense. like what the hell I dont understand that scene at all. also thinking about the transition where he’s like “ok repeat after me” as he’s in the cat and the camera goes over the mom’s shoulder and it’s just him talking, I like how they did that instead of doing dialouge between him and the cat. idk man. I think maybe I should stop typing now since my body is starting to hurt. sorry for putting this H U G E wall of text on your dash but I just like typing out my thoughts :) goodnight!

edit: OH I forgot to talk about something else!! last night I was thinking about valentines day and how cute it would be to have a little overall dress in the pattern on one of my childhood blankets, its like a light pink with white hearts on it so I looked up some fabrics and none of them were the right pattern. I also looked up a sewing pattern that I think would look nice and its on sale right now! I totally want to try and make it, but fabric is expensive so I think I might look at dollar tree for fleece baby blankets because I know they have them there, I bought a few a while ago for some plush sewing projects. they’re decently sized so I think I could do it.idk how many I would need to buy tho. or I might go to goodwill and look for a pink sheet? I have a thin pink blanket that could theoretically work but I want to use a planet im not attached to. or even just find a few big shirts in the same shade of pink? then I could maybe line it with something. I have red purple and white satin but that’s literally the worst fuckin fabric in the world to work with. my first experience with sewing was trying to make plushies out of satin and holy hell idk how I did it. anyway even though I literally never wear dresses I think it would be a fun project to try and make myself a cute little valentines dress. :) I could even give myself POCKETS >:)))

#thanks for coming to my ted talk #long post #I think maybe I should tag my daily shit with something like 2021 journal? idk im lazy so we'll see #January 2021 daily #2021 daily

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aislingeach · 4 years

Text

Another Letter...

Mom,

I love you more than anyone else. I love you big much and forever. I wish you felt more deserving of that love. You deserve so much better than the life you have. You took me in and raised an amazing daughter. Yes, we have our faults and the process of raising me wasn’t perfect… but you did the best you knew how. You gave me all you could. I wish you could see that you’re worth so much more than the love and treatment you accept… but we accept the love we think we deserve. I’m sorry things haven’t turned out as what you actually deserve in life. Currently though, a lot of that is by choice. You continually choose Scott over everyone and everything else, including yourself. Granted, I will never understand what it means to birth your own child and I will never understand the feelings that come with that. From a semi-objective point of view, it is still a choice to risk everything else for one child, especially when you have three children.

Scott continues to perpetuate the same abusive behaviors that I grew up with, that cost him custody of Christian and acquired legal trouble, that continue to harm you. It is unacceptable. I cannot continue to support these behaviors by picking up the pieces every time you fall apart as a result of his abuse. I feel that he is literally leading you to your grave. The stress and emotional turmoil only exacerbate your already existing poor health. I have always known I will be relatively young when you die, but I cannot imagine being without my mom before the age of 45.

His behavior and treatment of others leads to fear and resentment. For myself, I hold a little fear and a lot of anger and resentment towards him. Growing up with someone who would constantly yell, belittle me, make me feel worthless and like I did not belong was some of the worst abuse I have endured. I also hold some resentment towards you for this because of your failure to protect me. I specifically remember as a senior in high school standing in the living room with him yelling at the top of his lungs, pointing his finger in my face “she took you in, you selfish bitch” while you stood behind me and did nothing. This wasn’t the first, or the last time something like this happened; it’s just the memory that stands out the most. Or the time I got between the two of you at around age 10 as he was screaming at you and ended up yelling over and over less than a foot from your face “hit me, go ahead and fucking hit me” and shoved me aside when I tried to stop him. A small child yelling to stop and literally standing between you and your abuser. I would frequently wake at all hours of the night to you two fighting, to his abusive language while you stood there and cried. So, I would try and sleep in the backyard with Mitzy until the yelling stopped. Not that anyone ever noticed. I developed insomnia by the age of 11 due to living in constant fear, and this is something that still deeply affects me to this day. I was also highly suicidal in the midst of his abuse, again, not that anyone noticed. Two failed attempts and self-harm that I still have scars from. Yet, you brush this off, throwing your hands up and stating “I don’t want to talk about this” after your daughter has told you that she tried to kill herself twice because of Scott’s abuse. You have no idea how much this hurts.

His behavior and treatment of Christian has also lead to fear, anger and resentment from his own son. He lacks any empathy for the trauma and inconsistency Christian has had to grow up with. His verbal and emotional abuse, the lies and manipulation, the berating, has unfortunately all lead to Christian experiencing the same emotional turmoil I had endured. When it gets to the point that a child wants to kill themselves, it is inexcusable. History is literally repeating itself, and yet he refuses to take responsibility, blaming it on Alina and Ron. This is wrong. If it were their faults, Christian would not be confronting Scott about it. It is Scott’s doing that has led to Christian no longer wanting to exist, to be done with his life, to die. You commend him on being a good father, but sadly, he is not. He has the potential to be, but not until he can control his temper and have more appropriate responses and parenting styles. And to top it off, threatening to abandon Christian… either by running away to Florida, or “pulling a Paul Reed.” In my opinion, Christian does not deserve either of the parents he received, and this is wildly unfair to him. Yes, he has an attitude and yes, he has behavioral issues. However, being a teenager with rapidly changing hormones combined with the multiple traumas he’s endured account for this. Overall, he is a good kid and this goes unrecognized, which is unfair to him. That despite all he’s been through, he continues to have a good heart.

His behavior and treatment of you… I see how you live in fear of him. Your refusal to confront any problems with him; from as small as the pile of dishes in the sink, to as big as his abusive behavior, and your asking me to talk to him about multiple things on your behalf. I see how his treatment of you repeatedly brings you down to a depressive and anxious state. I see how you repeatedly fall apart, withdraw and isolate in response to his treatment. Not to mention, your statement of being “paralyzed in fear.” Him making you feel small, “stupid,” and like you’re losing your mind is abusive. Him continuously expecting you to provide for him and be there to pick up after him is abusive. Him manipulating every situation, every argument, everything in your life to fit his favor and meet his own needs is abusive. This is not love. Abuse is not love.

And yet, he loves to stand on his high horse and preach the gospel and tell everyone else how to be good human beings. This is bullshit. His “good deeds” don’t mean much in the face of his abuse. He loves to play the martyr and loves to tell everyone how hard he’s had it, how shit his life has been, and flaunt how he is still faithful and a Godly man. Yes, he’s had a rough life… but this is no excuse and many of his challenges have been short comings of his own terrible decisions. He chose drugs. He chose poor health management. He chose smoking. He chose to get in bad relationships. He chooses to start arguments, knowing exactly what buttons to push in others and then blames them for the argument and his abusive behavior. And he chooses to continue perpetuating these abusive cycles. He chooses how he responds to adversity every day.

He has consistently shown his true colors and yet you continue to choose him over everyone and everything else. You consistently back him up, regardless of the damage it causes to your other relationships. He has been the source of about 90% of the problems you and I have and at least 75% of the problems between you and Maggy. He is manipulative. He is egotistical. He is hypocritical. He is selfish. He is abusive. The whole family sees it. And yet you choose him.

He will never change unless he does the deep and difficult work to do so, and he has to want it. Which I honestly don’t think he will ever get to the place of truly wanting to change. A big part of this is that you continue to enable and accept these abusive behaviors, so why would he change when he can stay comfortable in the same patterns he’s known most of his life? Discomfort is required for change.

I carry so much shame and guilt over initially lying to Annie about how bad he really is. I did this because I knew it would be what you wanted me to do. Because I am constantly seeking your approval and acceptance with the goal that someday, you will choose me over him. I see now this is an unrealistic expectation. I also lied for some notion that I was protecting you… but I also have to believe in the systems that are in place to protect people from this kind of treatment. So, I don’t really see this lie as protecting you. This lie was also eating away at me; it’s mentally, emotionally and literally physically hurting me. I cannot engage in my own therapy, my own healing process while lying to my therapist. I cannot have walls up with Annie. Honestly, if I was provided therapy all those times I asked for it growing up, there would have been a multitude of CPS reports against him. So really, it’s a miracle he’s made it this long under the radar. I hold so much anger, fear, resentment and pain as a result of Scott that has affected so many areas of my life. It has been truly damaging. I need to be able to heal from this, so I can live a successful and healthy life. I cannot heal if I am lying. So yes, there was an APS report. I’m sorry this upset you, but I am not sorry of any consequences Scott has to face as a result. You reap what you sew.

Mom, I will always love you big much and forever.

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ghostofasecretary · 6 years

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so the pain feelings are probably the easiest and most grounded, let’s have those first

it really, really annoys me that i have chronic pain. i mean, yes, chronic pain is annoying, but i am annoyed at the specifics of my chronic pain because fibromyalgia is a...complicated diagnosis at best, one i am not sure really exists at worst, and one i would rather throw myself into a fire than get slapped with again.

(possibly do not read this if you are diagnosed with fibro, i think your pain exists and effects your life but i don’t quite think mine is and have Feelings about fibro as a diagnosis that i can’t assess and in this post i make some statements that may be distressing. if you’re sensitive to people dismissing pain, even if it’s their own pain, uh, maybe just skip this one)

i think the pain of other people i real and my own is not, sometimes, which is really stupid and i don’t agree with it, but there the thought is, being a thought.

legitimate vs illegitimate pain is one that is often framed through the lens of sexism and while that is probably reasonable, it also makes me curl into a little ball of dysphoria. i don’t want to think i was effected by sexism while i ran the medical gauntlet, and even if i was i don’t...ugh. sorry. no. i don’t want to.

fibro is basically the diagnosis for “we don’t know what’s wrong with you and you’re probably crazy and/or whiny and/or Don’t Real.” i’m not even sure it’s better than no diagnosis. also i am crazy, it’s on my chart, i don’t...i don’t want another thing that makes me more likely to be dismissed.

in my junior year of high school (well, from August to...April? stuff tapered off around the end of February) i had headaches that ranged from irritating to extremely distracting and mildly painful every single day. i say “mildly“ painful because i have had several severe migraines in my life, and while the aggregate suffering of daily aura and varying forms of pain in my temples may have been equal to the multiple days where i would have to be lying down in a dark room that was quiet as we could possibly make it, but even that didn’t quite help because my heartbeat was too loud, the daily experience was...not that bad. i also had some other symptoms that sucked!

these may have made the aggregate That Bad, idk. i was also pretty suicidal at this point, which kind of clouds my memories.

i was really nauseous pretty much constantly. i had aura pretty much constantly. i got diagnosed with chronic daily migraines, although they were atypical.

my hips and knees hurt a lot. my back hurt, my neck hurt, my shoulders hurt. sometimes i didn’t feel like i could walk well at all and i limped. i sat down often. my hands hurt and writing got painful for the first time. i was very tired.

i did some really stressful things in junior year that were made a lot worse by having headaches constantly and being tired and in miscellaneous pain and feeling like i was going to throw up. i had a really bad night one time where everything in my body was pounding and i ached and cramped and felt like i was on fire and also had a migraine i would class as a Real Migraine, complete with high-key pain and horribly present nausea and blackouts and floating dots. it was really hard.

i had a bunch of tests done re: headaches, including an EEG and an MRI. i asked for a full panel of bloodwork because i did not know what was happening and whether there was a cause. (fibro does not have a known cause, although it is sometimes speculated to be “stress” or “mental illness.” thanks, medicine.) there was no detectable underlying cause, but i did get some helpful medication after a lot of trial and error and several months of waiting. by several months i mean about half a year, but, well. what can you do.

(also, i had SO MUCH ANXIETY about diagnosis and i both was terrified of having RA or lupus or cancer or something identifiable and i desperately wanted something fixable. i also had FUN FUN FUN ANXIETY about being a Bad Patient, about whether asking for bloodwork and being upset over not having an underlying cause made me look like a hypochondriac, about whether the fact that i didn’t exercise as much meant i was Destroying My Health even though exercise hurt like a motherfucker and made every part of daily life difficult, etc, etc)

senior year was much less bad, pain wise.

headache meds really helped my other symptoms! yay! it’s also possible i developed a better pain tolerance*? i did have noticeable and distracting pain while typing during senior year but a carpal tunnel diagnosis is not terribly useful and trying to get diagnosed and not getting anything would probably have crushed me.

going to a chiropractor was moderately helpful but also painful, so...eh?

exercise was really, really not. it’s supposed to be, although the studies used to support that are kind of sketchy, but it was not helpful. it might be helpful now but i would not bet on it.

(one time in junior year i tried to stand up and pace around for an hour, to see if i could do it. i wound up having to lie down in bed for four hours. lying down because of Pain sucks and it feels so stupid and shitty and boring, and i knew i probably shouldn’t have stood for that long while it was so uncomfortable but i wanted to see if i could. i could, barely, but it was not worth it. and it’s so stupid, i feel so petty, i stand up for seven hours every day now and i don’t hurt that much, why did i...? surely it couldn’t have been that bad, surely i was making it up.)

sleeping more did help a little.

* i don’t feel like i developed a better pain tolerance but it might be worth noting two things.

one, after a while i got incredibly fed up with noticing my pain and all the stuff on the net about fibro being psychosomatic and not having any reason to feel bad aside from my headaches which also didn’t have a Real ReasonTM, i decided to ignore pain. pain? what’s that? i don’t have that. banging my elbow makes me ache for days? lol, no it doesn’t. it...i mean, i think it helped. not thinking about my pain All The Time defnitely helped, although the Denial might be less than great.

two, even though i really do feel like i have a shit pain tolerance my feet were literally bleeding because of my shoes in DC and i did not take any action about this until K and R told me to. it hurt, but not, like, a lot.

possibly i have a better pain tolerance.

...

anyway. recently during my work as a barista, my hands and wrists and forearms have been quite annoying. my wrists keep sparking when i pick up milk cartons or shake whip cream and i have to do those things many times during the course of a day. it hurts to close my hands and they’re usually very stiff but probably not clinically stiff. my tendons seem...unhappy...but fuck if i know. i sleep in wrists braces every night and have for years, i ice my hands and wrists at least once a week, typing is still hella painful and i don’t draw or sew very much anymore and i cannot shake the conviction that there is Nothing To Be Done and also that i am feeling my nerves dying every day. which. uh. not great.

(and also - my ankles hurt all the time, i stand up for seven hours a day, what do you expect? my back hurts, so what, everyone’s back hurts. sometimes my knee wrenches but idk, man, it does that.)

i can’t tell what’s a reasonable, measured reaction, what’s abject denial, and what’s overwhelming anxiety and desperation to have anything that isn’t The Fake Special Snowflake Disease For Special Snowflake People.

according to the Mayo Clinic, “See your doctor if you have persistent signs and symptoms suggestive of carpal tunnel syndrome that interfere with your normal activities and sleep patterns. Permanent nerve and muscle damage can occur without treatment.” uhhhhhhhh

tingling and numbness have occurred for the past two and a half years, although they’ve gotten much worse recently. i haven’t been woken up because of it, but, like. if i woke up every time i was in pain i would be awake a lot. weakness hasn’t really happened yet. pain is, y’know, kind of a thing.

i’m vaguely worried that i could have more things ala tendinitis but no way am i going to think about that too hard.

options:

continue ignoring everything. this one looks very stupid but i am tempted. if i think i need carpal release surgery i could try to get it then, otherwise i’m pretty much doing okay on prevention and am doing decently at ergonomic support. if i get told to ice my wrists or something i will scream

go to a doctor. a diagnosis would probably make me feel better but also what if i don’t get one, and there isn’t much to be done anyway unless i need surgery which i do not think i do. if i have tendinitis i might get a steroid shot, but really, i don’t think i do? i don’t want to think about it, i am so tired of thinking about my shit body, i don’t want to

go to the chiropractor. this looks like a nice middle balance and i could ask about carpal tunnel in a less serious environment and it might help, but uggggh, why can’t i just...continue ignoring everything. “permanent nerve and muscle damage” sounds serious but not being able to stand without being in a fuckload of pain sounded serious to me in junior year and here we are, with awesome headache meds and a dubiously effective pain tolerance.

at what point does pain interfere with my life? when i notice it? when i start dropping things? when i can’t hold a pencil? idk, man. i d fucking k

oh, yeah, and another thing, my headaches have been..sort of a thing lately. at this point i’m going to have to get a freakin anti-headache earring like it’s a sigil to ward off a demon and/or i will have to get botox shots every three months like a soccer mom desperately sneaking in to the doctor’s office to make herself feel just a tiny bit better about her miserable life and wrinkles, because obviously a 40 year old showing signs of age is A Sin Against Beauty And An Affront To Nature

(note the increasingly bitter and jaded tone of this post. do i sound hysterical yet)

pain is very stupid and i am SO ANNOYED

....probably i should schedule a chiropractor appointment. i shall pester my mom about that now

#emotional sorting #whining #surprise: chronic pain!#ugh that's a lot of feelings #this was supposed to be the /easy/ post #i am a parody of myself #please do not armchair diagnose me #hugs are nice

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a-calm-night · 7 years

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MY BREAST REDUCTION 2017

INTRODUCTION: One of the first things I did when I began considering surgery was google other people’s experiences. It was instrumental in deciding that it something I wanted to do, and took away a lot of the fear and uncertainty out of the decision. If those people hadn’t taken the time to put their experiences into written words I may not be where I am now, so hopefully by doing this I can help another big-boobed individual take their first step to a more comfortable life.

I was totally flat-chested until I was about 14-years-old, and then in the span of 6 months shot through the ranks until I could no longer accurately determine my size. I knew one thing though, because every fucking person who laid eyes on me felt the need to tell me: they were big. I’ve had a lot of shitty experiences because of my body; from being referred to as ‘Tits’ by boys I thought I had become familiar enough with that they would bother to remember my name, to being called a slut on multiple occasions by a friend’s mother all because I dared to show a little cleavage (which is hard not to do when they’re that size. Now that I’m older I can’t believe that an adult would say that to a young teenager. Seriously disgusting behaviour). I know that in their own convoluted way most of the time when people made comments they meant it as some sort of compliment but by the 500th time you hear that shit its like, look, I KNOW they’re big, okay? I LIVE WITH THEM. I KNOW THEY’RE BIG. STOP. TELLING. ME.

Then there’s the physical aspect of it all where everything hurts all the time and you can’t run or jump around or dare to move too quickly. Theres’s the back issues and the shoulder issues and the neck issues and all the rest of it. That sucked too, but to be honest it was always the mental and social side of things that bothered me the most.

I’d say I was around 17 when I first started looking into surgery. I kept telling myself that I wanted to do it and that I would do it but just kept putting it off out of fear and aversion to being cut open. I’m 21 now, and it was in January this year that I kicked myself into gear and started making actual moves towards it. I’d started taking anti-depressants a few months before that time and I think that having that extra motivation, confidence and energy was a huge catalyst.

THE SET UP: I went to my GP and asked for a referral. The GP asked me some question re: why I wanted a reduction, why I thought I needed one etc and once she was satisfied asked me if there were any surgeons I had in mind. I’d done some research and picked out a surgeon in my city that I liked the look of. She was one of the only Docs in Adelaide that actually had a gallery of her surgeries on her site to look at, and she had over 10 years experience specialising in breast augmentation - you can look at her website >here< if you want. The GP recommended another local surgeon who I had also already looked into, but a lot of her reviews said she had an attitude problem and as someone who has difficulty even making eye contact with people I really didn’t think I could handle that, so I asked for a referral for my pick instead.

Dr. Anderson had gone away for the new year, so it wasn’t until March that I was able to get in to see her (or February, or maybe April? My memory is really fuzzy on that for some reason). Anyway, when I had my appointment with her she took a look at my breasts. Her thoughts were that they were too large for my frame, with quite a lot of asymmetry (which is correct, I’d say my left side was a good 2 or 3 cups smaller), and that genetically they’d grown more on the top that the bottom which had resulted in a saggier appearance (also true, my nipples were far too low). Then she sat down with me and explained what the procedure would be and how she would do it. She asked me some questions about my health and family history, and gave me some information sheets. It was quite fast-paced but not in a rude way - it was just another rodeo for her while for me it was something life changing. After we were finished I went out to the front desk and the receptionist lady asked me if I wanted to book my surgery there and then, or take some time to think about it. I’d liked Dr. Anderson and was already set on my course of action so I decided to book my surgery date on the spot. Originally I was set for the 16th of May but due to some education I was fulfilling at the time I later had to move it to September the 18th. The suspense was maddening, I just wanted to get it over and done with.

THE SURGERY: Dr. Anderson decided to go with an ‘Anchor’ incision for my surgery, with some liposuction on the right-hand-side where I had some excess fat on the connection from my armpit to my breast. The anchor incision is described as:

The “anchor” breast reduction incision pattern follows around the perimeter of the areola, moving to a vertical line from the areola down to the breast crease, and then horizontally along the breast crease.

But how I would describe it is that she cuts underneath the boob fold, then in a line up and around the nipple. Y’know, like an anchor shape. She then takes out the excess breast tissue, and brings the nipple upwards to a more aesthetically balanced area before sewing everything back together. Then everything gets taped up with hyperfix dressings. Drains are inserted to take away the excess fluid your body produces to replace what is lost, and are removed 24 - 48 hours after surgery.

THE ACTUAL SURGERY: I was told to check into the hospital 6.30am. I woke up at 2.30 that morning freaking the fuck out. I was determined and excited, but still scared. Of course I’d entertained the thought that everything could go horribly wrong and was getting flashbacks to the unhealthy amount of ‘Botched’ episodes I’d been watching leading up to The Big Day.

This next section is very long so I’m going to do dot points to seperate it out a bit.

- Check into hospital. Sign in at desk, fill out some paper work. I’d had to fill out and send in a booklet of admittance information detailing things like my height, weight, current medication, living address, next of kin etc so they already had most of my information.

- Nurse comes to take me up to the second waiting area, where I sat for maybe 10 minutes before a different nurse took me into the pre-operative area. She took my weight and then we went into a curtained-off room where she went through and confirmed the information I’d given them and had me sign some consent forms. She gave me my hospital gown to change into and one of those towel-fabric dressings gowns, and a blanket. I also had to wear these super sexy surgery stockings that went up to my groin and were very tight, to stop blood clots from forming during surgery. Then she painted me up with this detol-like disinfectant and left to let it dry.

- Dr. Anderson comes in a draws up her incision patterns. The anaesthesiologist also came in and asked a few questions like when I’d last eaten and if I was a smoker, confirmed my weight and height and some other details. Dr. Anderson took a ‘before’ photo and left to get scrubbed in. - Man comes in and gets me set up in a wheelchair and a heated blanket before rolling me across the hospital to the room where they’d be performing the surgery. There was a little room with a bed that I got into and was introduced to one of the nurses who’d be assisting, and she confirmed my info again before I was taken into the operating theatre.

- Lay down on the operating table and meet the other guy who’s assisting. At my initial appointment with Dr. Anderson after I decided to book my surgery with her they had me fitted with a post-operative surgery bra, which they now laid underneath me so they could easily do up after they were done.

- The anaesthesiologist put an IV in my arm and put a mask up to my face and told me I would fall asleep in a few seconds. That was a strange experience. I was totally awake one second and then I tasted this awful acidic taste, was hit with a brief but blinding headache and then boom... gone.

- Next thing I know I’m waking up and there’s this absolute angel of a nurse (who I never actually saw ‘cause I had my eyes closed the whole time but her voice became my crutch in that first post-op hour) asking me if I wanted some water and showing me where my pain relief button is. Apparently I had a lot of pink surgery paint on my face which she made a valiant effort to remove and put some lip balm on my lips because they were super dry and I was really dehydrated, not having had any food or liquid since the day before (gotta fast before surgery so that you don’t choke on your vomit while your under anaesthetic).

- I was in that post-op area for maybe an hour? I was drifting in and out of unconsciousness and doped up so my perception of time was pretty screwy. I just remember angel-nurse telling me my room was ready and that she would be guiding the bed there. Apparently the beds have sensors or something that follow marks on the floor so all the nurses have to do is press a button and the bed drives itself, thought that was pretty cool.

- They took me into my room and I fell asleep again until I hear my mum’s voice asking the nurse how I was doing. It was a few hours later and she’d come in to visit. The hospital staff were doing their afternoon tea round so I had a coffee and some cake, and more water. I literally cannot describe how thirsty I was, even hooked up to an IV drip. Mum sat with me for like an hour but I kept passing out on her so we decided there wasn’t much point in her hanging around.

- The nurses came in once every hour to take my blood pressure, temperature, and oxygen levels. I had an IV in my left arm and another tube I think was probably the pain relief. The drains were coming out from both sides just underneath my armpits but they were really thin and I didn’t even realise they were there until I went to the toilet later and had to hold onto the collection bags. I had a blood-pressure cuff wrapped around my other arm so that they didn’t have to bother me to connect it every time they came in, and an oxygen reader clipped to my finger, and I had a vice grip on my pain relief remote. I didn’t actually use it all that much but it was comforting knowing that it was there. I also had these weird massage things connected to my legs to keep the blood flowing.

- I pretty much slept for the first 6 hours or so, drifting in and out and waking when the nurses came to check all my stats. The lady I was sharing a room with was watching the news, I had a TV too but I didn’t want to turn it on and have the sounds clashing together so I just listened to hers mostly. I had my phone on the table connected to my bed but I felt to groggy to really use it. They brought in some dinner (tomato pasta and mash) I thought it tasted pretty good. I’m not sure if hospital food just has a bad rap or if it was because I was SO hungry.

- My roomie left around 7pm and I had the room to myself after that. One of the nurses came in and folded back the room dividers and curtains so I could see out the windows, which was a nice thought. The hospital is up on a hill so you get a view of the highway and the city in the distance so it was nice to have something to look at. I didn’t sleep much that night but I’d been sleeping all day anyway and was still kind of dopey so I wasn’t that bothered.

- Morning eventually came around and I had some breakfast and the nurses came in and asked if I was feeling up to going home. I had the option to stay another night but I was feeling pretty good and just wanted to go home to my own bed. Dr. Anderson came in checked everything out, and the nurses got me set up with my prescribed pain killers. They took out the drains, which didn’t hurt nearly as much as I’d been dreading. It was more of a strange and uncomfortable pulling sensation. The lady taking them out had me take a deep breath and exhale as she pulled them out, which is a technique I would highly recommend.

- I was discharged around 10:30am, went home to bed, had some lunch, and slept a lot. You’re supposed to sleep sitting somewhat upright which was a lot easier in hospital with the adjustable bed, but at home I had to prop myself up with pillows which was pretty uncomfortable but for the first day or two I was too tired to really care. Later, I ended up sleeping on a beanbag but this post is long enough already so I’ll make a seperate one detailing the recovery so far.

THE PAYMENT: I live in South Australia so my experience with this is probably vastly different from someone who lives in another country, or even another state. I’m lucky enough to have private health insurance which means that I didn‘t have to pay for the hospital stay itself, and was able to get some of the other fees at a lower rate.

There were three categories of payment: The Surgeon, the anaesthesiologist, and the assistance fee.

In my case, the surgeon was owed $5000, the anaesthetic was $500, and the assistance fee was $750. I’ll be getting some money back from the Private Health fund from the assistance, but I’m not sure how much. $5000 for the surgeon is a bit more expensive than some of the others I looked into considering I can’t claim that payment with the PH, but I knew I wanted Dr.Anderson so I was willing to pay. Surgery... is expensive. I’m lucky enough to live at home with my parents who charge me only a pittance to live with them, and have a relatively stable income as an aged care worker. I’ve always been a hardcore money-hoarder (AKA, a cheapskate), and knowing that surgery was something I wanted gave me the extra motivation to save enough to pay for it all.

That being said, if you live in Australia you can go through this procedure under medicare! The reason I chose not to do this is because I wanted to choose my surgeon myself, choose which hospital the procedure was done in, and choose when the surgery itself would be performed. I don’t have all the info on this but its my understanding that through medicare you don’t have much of say in who, where, or when its done. One of my coworkers is getting her mammoplasty done through medicare so if anyone wants more info regarding this, I can ask her no worries :)

This is all a lot longer than I had intended for it to be and I’ve been writing for hours so I’ll stop myself here. I am almost at the one-month post-op milestone so I’ll write a seperate post detailing my recovery in a few days.

If anyone has any questions regarding this surgery please, please, feel free to ask. It makes it so much less scary and easier if you have someone you can grill for info, and I’m happy to be that person for anyone considering surgery no matter what stage you’re in. Having this surgery is honestly the best thing I have ever done for myself and I really encourage anyone who wants it to look at all their options, because now that its done I cant imagine having to carry that weight around for the rest of my life.

Before I forget, I was somewhere around a 12E before have come down to a 10DD at this stage. Doesn’t seem like that big of a difference but they will likely go down again as the swelling reduces. They took 400~ grams from my left and 600~ from my right. I feel fantastic :)

#Breast Reduction #mammoplasty #Breast Augmentation #Breast lift #Surgery

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