#sewing machine brand rant

[allisonreader]

Rant incoming...

This is about a certain sewing machine brand of which I will not name to not taint anyone's opinion of it. But I'm telling you, the customer and us at the store are frust-rate-ed with this particular company.

We have a customer who is very loyal to this sewing machine brand. She bought their extremely fancy, top of the line, extremely expensive sewing and embroidery machine which has an unsolved issue currently. If they were any other of the brands we sell, this issue would have been dealt with by replacing the customer's machine with a new one ages ago. But because this company is the company that it is, they haven't.

We've even sent the machine back to the company for their personal techs to see, but they couldn't duplicate the issue. We've tried everything. It's a singular issue though. As far as we're aware there have been no other cases of this issue that has been reported about the embroidery on this machine. Our floor model works perfectly fine in its embroidery mode. I've done several embroideries on it since we've had it without issue.

I've gone to the customer's house to take a look at her set up, which doesn't have an issue. And it's not like this woman doesn't know what she's doing. She's been sewing for most of her life and has had top of the line machines for a least 20 years. She's knowledgeable.

And yet we're still being given the run-around of things to try before they might give her a new machine. And this has been going on for over half a year now. So we are all frustrated at the moment.

The sad thing is that I know that other companies are easier to work with for warranty issues like this. My personal machine froze up completely after setting it up for an embroidery then going to hoop up the material and coming back to it being frozen. The company I got my machine from didn't even bother with trying to replace a part on the machine. I just had my whole machine replaced. A much better solution than what we're struggling with with this other company.

If I didn't already appreciate other brands better than the rather plain Jane machines of this company, I wouldn't with the knowledge of how the customer is treated with warranty issues.

[costumesexpalined]

First things first, basic materials for basically any cosplay.

No need for sewing machines or even embroidery hoops, they’re pretty new in the grand scheme of things and people made insane stuff without them for millenia after all.

(I actually recommend learning hand sewing FIRST, it lets you learn how to fix your stuff in a pinch and is way easier to get into. It’s slower, sure, but it also lets you make finer, more consistent seams and if you have sensory issues tied to sound it’s FAR less likely to set you off. Plus, it’s calming and frankly impresses the hell out of people at competitions and the like and some groups (like re-enactments) do not count machine made things at all in their competitions and standards.)

All you need to sew clothing is a needle, thread, scissors, a measuring tape, a pencil and sharpener or chalk to mark things in a washable way, fabric and time.

If you aren’t totally confident in being able to track seams or keep them even, straight pins or clips helps hold stuff together. You also want these if you don’t want to transfer a pattern from paper to the fabric with drawn lines, but that’s also not exactly needed since I go off the base shapes and measurements. If you aren’t confident with holding material extremely taught while you work on embroidery or bead work and the like, a good embroidery hoop can be found second hand for pretty cheap and you can usually find a really good one for under $10 usd at a craft store with an embroidery section (with $10 being a MASSIVE one, I recommend getting a 6 inch or less unless your doing something at a standing one, which is overkill most of the time).

I’ll explain how to use the materials later, but everyone has trouble with fabric and I’ve had people balk at the cost before, so here’s where to start (or if your on a tight budget)

- broadcloth: cheap cotton, comes in a whole array of solid colors and a staple of cosplay. Be sure to make certain you don’t make something too tight with this, it isn’t the best at holding up to extreme strain. Typically about $5 usd a yard… full price.

- quilting cotton: slightly more enxpensive and usually patterned in some way broadcloth. If you go to a fabric store they will have TONS of this. Averages about $6-8 usd a yard full price, depending on the brand and store.

- old linens: a cosplay classic. Go to goodwill or Facebook marketplace or a garage sale or something and buy up a bunch of old bed sheets and stuff or some curtains and be ready to get dirty with dye, bleach, and a lot of prayers. Best to aim for solid white, makes it easier, unless you want that specific color/pattern. Upside is that these make bigger pieces easier to make. Think cloaks, super big skirts, “Aladdin” pants, things that have a high depth AND width to the piece you need. Lowers the seam count, at least.

- Muslin: I will have an unhinged rant about historical vs modern muslin later on, but this is a fabric you can get for as little as ¢50 a yard in some cases used for a pattern making method called “draping” that will also be explained at a later date. It’s thick, completely undyed/unbleached, and sturdy enough to take some abuse and doesn’t gray too bad. It’s shit compared to historical muslin, but it does its job as a cheap canvas in a pinch. Be warned: these come on VERY short bolts and often aren’t “double wide” like other fabrics, which can be an issue and lead to TONS of seams.

Again, muslin is used to make patterns usually. Will explain “draping” later but it’s pretty self explanatory based on the name.

[carters-coffee]

Imagine Rose struggling to make eye contact with you

Word Count: 1,161

The heist was over. You couldn't believe the nine of you had actually pulled it off. You didn't think any of the others could believe it either, except maybe Debbie, who seemed to know it would work all along. 30 million dollars for each of you. You knew it would take a few weeks, maybe even months to let it sink in, to wrap your mind around just how much money that really was. But for now, you were sitting in the kitchen of Lou's flat with the others, bathing in the afterglow of success. Maybe it was just the adrenaline, but the champagne really did taste like stars tonight. Rose was next to you, leaning casually against the counter, smiling and laughing as she engaged in the conversation. From what you'd seen of her, it seemed out of character. She was always so jittery, so anxious. Whether it was the excitement or the booze or the sense of camaraderie that had developed between the group, you were happy to see her finally coming out of her shell.

After awhile the group dispersed. Tammy, Daphne, and Amita had decided to head home, while Lou and Debbie went upstairs. Constance had been content to stay in the kitchen, raiding Lou's fridge for munchies, and you weren't sure where Nine Ball went. You and Rose had ended up on the sofa, with her sitting with her legs tucked under her, and you at the opposite end, with one leg bent at the knee, the other stretched out towards her. She had her elbow on the arm of the sofa, head resting on her hand as the two of you discussed your plans for the exorbitant amount of money you now owned. Obviously, Rose said, she would first be getting herself out of debt. Then she went on to explain her plans to purchase her own studio, a headquarters for her fashion line. She spoke of her hopes to get her brand back to its glory days, back when she wasn't a joke in the fashion industry. The fact that she had dressed Daphne for the Gala would certainly kick start it. She had already planned exactly what the studio would look like, and spared no detail as she told you her plan with remarkable clarity. She was painting a picture with words, and you could see it forming in your mind as she spoke. You found that when she was in her element, she was very adamant and expressive, and you enjoyed watching her eyes light up, making wild hand gestures as she moved around in her seat, tucking and untucking her legs.

She told you everything, from the floor plan to the wall decor to where her sewing machines and and fabrics would be located, and when she finally reached the end she trailed off with a sigh, appearing just a little out of breath.

"So yea. That's... that."

"Well it sounds absolutely wonderful, Rose. You'll have to let me come and see it sometime, when it's finished." You smiled.

"Oh of course." She said. She took a sip of her drink and her eyes flickered towards the back wall. She had been doing that a lot. All night, actually. Whether it was the floor or the wall or one of the odd decorative items that Lou possessed, Rose always found something else to focus on, seeming to not be able to look at you for more than a few seconds at a time, even when she was ranting about her studio. It was the only nervous habit she carried over from before the heist to this night.

"You can't seem to look at me very long, can you?" You said with a light laugh.

She seemed startled. " Oh! I'm sorry-"

"It's alright!"

"I don't mean to be rude, I just... " She trailed off again. You waited patiently for her to finish. Once again, her eyes flickered to you momentarily, and when she realized you weren't going to speak, she sighed.

"I just... don't want to stare." She mumbled.

"What? "

She seemed to be regretting saying anything, shrinking back into her nervous is self. "I, well," She huffed " I'm afraid if I look at you too long I won't be able to stop. " Her words came out in a rush, and it took you a moment to comprehend what she had said.

"Why?" You asked .

She shrank into the sofa a bit. "You're beautiful." She whispered.

 Your lips parted in shock. You supposed you should've suspected, but for some reason her admission hit you like a truck. Maybe it was because , well, you thought she was beautiful too. And not in the admiration-of-a-friend kind of way. In the butterflies-when-you-look-at-her kind of way. You had always assumed she didn't feel the same. It's easy to let your own feelings keep you from seeing what’s right in front of you.

"I... Thank you." You finally said. She nodded, looking at the floor. You made to move towards her, but stopped when she visibly tensed. She was all pre-heist Rose now, and she reminded you of a bird. Beautiful, but nervous, flighty. One wrong move and she might fly away. So instead of just doing what you desperately longed to do, you asked first.

"May I kiss you?"

She looked up at you, surprise written on her face . This was clearly not where she expected this to go. Not seeming to trust herself to speak, she gave a little nod.

You moved towards her and leaned in. She tilted her head towards you. There was a pause as both of you hesitated, your lips barely grazing each other. She smelled like flowers and chocolate, tinged with a spark of champagne on her breath. Then you closed the gap, connecting your lips with hers. She was shy at first, but as the kiss lasted she grew more confident. She lifted a hand to caress your cheek, deepening the kiss as she swung her leg over to straddle you. You grabbed her hips and pulled her close, reveling in the feeling of your bodies pressed together.

"Ugh, get a room."

The two of you broke apart and looked to see Lou leaning against the railing of the stairs.

"I mean, honestly. I have a guest room if you two really need it." She said with a teasing smile.

"Thanks for ruining the moment, smart ass." You said. You smiled to show you weren't upset, but it was a little frustrating. You scanned Rose's face, trying to gouge what she was feeling. Her cheeks were flushed and she looked a bit embarrassed, but not the least bit regretful. 

"Remember how I said I would visit after the studio is done?" You said.

"Yea."

"Maybe we should make it a little sooner."

She smiled, a real genuine smile with not an ounce of nerves. "I would like that very much."

****

For me. This was purely self indulgent. You’re welcome, me.

Inspired by this quote:

“I mustn’t look at you too much, or I won’t be able to take my eyes off you at all” - Franz Kafka

[thevictorianghost]

A look back at 2020 - and a thank you to the Zutara fandom

Okay.

So.

I’ve never done this before. I know 2020 has been… a year. To say the least. A messy, sad, hell of a year. I’m not saying my 2020 was perfect. There were many events that were supposed to happen but got cancelled because of COVID. But if you could believe it, 2019 was so much worse for me, especially creative-wise. So I decided to make this post about how my 2020 went, because it went a lot better than 2019!

Never again, 2019. Never again.

Also if you feel like you haven’t been creative or haven’t had the energy to do everything you wanted to do, please don’t take this post as a “haha I did so much better than you guys!” Because that is ABSOLUTELY NOT what I want to achieve. I just want to give myself a pat on the back. Honestly, I think what really helped this year was when I got into a slump for one type of creative endeavour, I jumped to the next. I set myself to start something and finished it. Then, if I felt burnt out about that thing? Like writing a fic? I got into cosplay. Or video editing. Or something else. And then I came back to writing. It was really fun to learn new things and to do multiple kinds of projects through the year!

The Zutara fandom thank you letter is at the end, so if you want to skip my ramblings, you can find the title below! 

So anyway. Here goes!

Video editing:

It’s not that well-known on my Tumblr, but I have a Youtube channel! I made myself a video editing challenge back in January - and I crushed it! Back in 2019, I quit video editing for many months because I didn’t have the motivation to continue doing so. But then in December last year, I found a BUNCH of my old (and I mean, VERY old) videos I’d made as a kid. And it re-invigorated my love for video editing because I realized how far I’d come and that I wanted to do it more! So I told myself: one video a month. Twelve in one year. That’s it. Do that. And I ended up making TWENTY videos this year! I’m so proud of myself!

I even made MORE than twenty videos. A few of these just aren’t published. I made a few more “educational” videos because I’m considering making a brand new Youtube channel dedicated to History and pop culture! I don’t know if it’ll end up being… you know… a thing, but hey! Why not?

I also made some unpublished short edits for a possible Instagram account I’d like to create, too! All for Titanic. An example of those short videos can be found here! Again, I don’t know if that Instagram account will end up being… a thing… but I have faith!

Cosplay:

I got back into cosplay this year! And I learned new skills thanks to it! I learned how to work with EVA foam to create my own Blue Spirit mask (using this tutorial!). There’s a few projects currently on the backburner, but I’m sure I’ll come back to them eventually!

I also learned recently how to sew a pair of opera gloves (because haha, fuck you if you want to buy any that aren’t in size small!) for a Rose Dewitt-Bukater cosplay with my sewing machine I bought way back in like… March… but was honestly too afraid to use. But I did it! I pushed through my fear and I did it! I’ve been practicing more and more with my sewing machine as I repurpose old clothes for my cosplay. And it’s going great!

Writing:

I got back into fanfic! I hadn’t written ANYTHING fanfic related in a while, especially not multi-chapter fics. But this year, I finished THREE novel-length fanfictions. My fanfics The Prince’s Bride, my Star Wars/The Princess Bride AU, and Never Let Me Go, my Avatar: The Last Airbender/Titanic AU, are currently all published on AO3! I haven’t been much in the Star Wars fandom since writing The Prince’s Bride, but I did meet @stressedinadress with who I talk about Star Wars and anything in particular! Thank you for being my friend!

My other novel-length fic, All roads lead to Paris, a Miraculous Ladybug/A Monster in Paris/Ratatouille crossover fic is currently being uploaded every Wednesdays! I’ve also written a Titanic/The Great Gatsby crossover one-shot called Make it count; Meet me at the clock that had been living in my brain for years but I’d never had the guts to write it. But then I did!

I’m especially proud of Never Let Me Go. Not that I’m not proud of my other fics, but this one in particular has a very special place in my heart. It’s the longest story I’ve EVER written and made me love Titanic all over again. Zuko and Katara were the perfect characters to be cast as Jack and Rose. I got back into drawing entirely thanks to this fic. I’d been telling myself “I can’t draw to save my life” for YEARS but then I decided to try again and I’m much better than I was back then! I’m so humbled by all the comments, all the bookmarks, the kudos and the love this story has received. We’ve JUST REACHED 5000 HITS!! Before the end of the year!! That’s so AWESOME!!

I’m tentatively coming back to original fiction after writing a lot of fanfic, especially a Greek Mythology retelling (which is, you know, fanfiction but with stories that don’t have copyrights!). I think writing fanfiction really helped me figure out what I love about writing and has helped me tremendously in creating my own style and voice. It’s been an incredible journey and yes, my Greek Mythology retelling was inspired by a Zutara Greek Mythology AU! So you know, I’m staying on-brand! haha

I’m also currently working on another ATLA fic, heavily inspired by my “what I would have wanted for LOK” post you can find here. It’s going to be much, MUCH shorter than Never Let Me Go, but it’s already longer than Not Like Everyone Else, so I’m really happy with this one. A bunch of bite-sized chapters in the POVs of all these lovely characters after the War and my take on where they should have ended up - and the world.

Zutara:

And finally, but certainly not the least, I got back into the Zutara fandom and really contributed! I made metas I’m really proud of (like this one on Katara’s abandonment issues you can find here!). I wrote the aforementioned fanfic Never Let Me Go. I even made a video about Zutara after my latest rewatch of ATLA (you can watch ZUTARA | Zuko x Katara - BATTLESHIPS here!).

I also made friends along the way! @darkcrowprincess​, @harharj​, @angelsabloom​ and, more recently, @heavensweetheart​. I wanted to thank you for putting up with my weird rants and obsessions! :)

We’re all such a lovely bunch and don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere! I want to thank, especially, @firelxdykatara​, @antarcticasx​, @my-bated-breath​, @peartarts​,  @pineapple-frenzy​ and @hayleynfoster​ for your metas, fics, art, etc.!  You’ve been making my 2020 better. This isn’t an exhaustive list, so if I’ve forgotten someone, I’m so sorry! 

Also I hope everyone who have been harassed recently, like @babytreehugger​, knows that we’re all standing behind you and supporting you.

This is a really special fandom indeed. It took me years before I could rewatch ATLA knowing Zutara wasn’t endgame, but even if it hurts that they’re not canon, we have countless fics, art, poems, animatics, even published authors whose books are basically Zutara AUs! As stated by those same authors! Isn’t that amazing?? WE HAVE A STAR!! WE HAVE A FRICKING STAR!!! Has anyone forgotten that??

And look. I’ve been, for the past few years, in the Star Wars fandom. I’ve been in many different fandoms over the years. It’s been… rough. But I’ve never seen such an encouraging, loving, compassionate fandom. I know it can be difficult outside of our fandom, especially with people fighting on Twitter and Instagram and even on Tumblr with people harassing others. But this fandom, fifteen years later, is so smart, so kind, so positive and so inspiring. 

If you’ve been reading up ‘till now, thank you! 

Also: You can do whatever you set your mind to! I believe in you! Go do the thing if you want to! And never forget to be kind to yourself. 

Happy holidays! Let’s hope (fingers crossed!) that 2021 will be a better year. 

thevictorianghost

[helpinghanikan]

Inter-species relationship

X-men x Reader

Sum: Relationships come in many forms, with those that are powered and those that aren’t.

AN: little, teeny-tiny one shots because classes are starting soon and I gotta get ready

Charles Xavier:

           Behind the powers, behind the suits and the missions and the X-men themselves there is a school. A school with actual students that need an actual education. Which in turn needs actual teachers. Which is where you come in.

           Andy was one of your students, Andy was a bright student and Andy was a little shit.

           “This is fucking shit,” It was Lily’s voice, but it didn’t come from her.

           “Andrew…” Your chalk sat down, turning to face him with a ‘are you serious’ look.

           Andy didn’t have the most impressive power in the school. He was a mocking bird, a watered-down Mystic who can only change his voice and prints. Not enough to warrant a super suit, but enough to be taken advantage off. Several nights spent behind bars and handcuffs before his mother got to Charles’s school.

           “Lily said it.” Andrew says before you completely turn around.

           Lily is done, staring to the ceiling like she’s hoping for God to take her from this misery.

           “The least you can do is learn how to lie better. Or pretend to be someone who can do it.” One perk of being a one of it’s kind private school was the amount of sass you’re allowed to dish out. Anything short of cussing out a kid was green lit, within reason.

           Among the small chuckles from your students there was Andrew. And his little smile that turned into a smirk.

           “Of course, Miss.” Your name came from Charles voice but out of Andrew’s mouth.

           Later on, Charles was trying to hide a smile behind his hand. Pretending that he was reading the paper in front of him and only half listening to your rants.

                                           -------------------------------------

Erik Lehnsherr:

           Accidents happen in prison all the time; from suicides to miscounts of prisoners, no prison is perfect.

           So, who can say how that metal fork was mixed with the plastic?

           It was either the recent surge of sympathy for mutants, or just plain stupidity that Magneto was still alive. Leashed and caged in plastic in an equally non-metal prison. Millions in tax payers money ruined by someone infected with sympathy.

           He only stared up at you, like he was expecting a kick to the face.

           And you stared back, pretending that the fork suddenly floating wasn’t anything new. It’s only when you take several steps back, does he stop staring.

           Floating fork dents and presses, a thick needle pressed into a lock neither of you saw. Watching the neck restraint come undone, although silent, was the loudest sound.

           It was your turn to stare at him, expecting violence when he only walks past you.

           “I’m only giving you now to leave,” He says, jerking his head towards the door you had entered.

           “You’re welcome, I guess.” You said while walking away. Probably only getting a few second head start.

                                          -------------------------------------

Raven/ Mystique:

         The smallest bit of blue lays in the palm of her hand. It spreads into the flat of the fingers, and onto the thumb. Skin that was entirely her pressed against your own. Follow up the arm and into the green eyes and you won’t find her there.

           Instead you see a man, a stranger created from hundreds of faces passing by each day.

           It was only in the confines of your apartment that she was your entire blue rose. Grabbing her hand and begging her to come with you, pulling her with you towards the door. As though the door frame was a machine, changing your love into the stranger the world would accept.

           At least twice a week you sat on your bench with a different person. Lovingly holding each of their hands in the same way each time. Head resting against their shoulder without a change of pattern.

                                         -------------------------------------

Peter Maximoff:

         He never outright said it, but everyone knew that Peter was always different.

           He had class across the school? Didn’t matter, he was always there. Already stealing whatever snack you were trying to hide away.

           School work? Done in the time it takes for your book to be pulled from the bag. It was almost never right, forcing you to watch him do it painstakingly slow.

           It was something that no one bothered to tell anyone else. Something that was just a trick of the mind and not worth mentioning. After months of these tricks happening and then only one you’ve ever said anything to was Peter’s mother.

           “You have to trap him,” Ms. Romanoff said when you mentioned it. “I used to hold his hand everywhere, until he was about thirteen. It’s like a leash or something he can’t break out of.”

           At no point was the question asked but the answer was clear.

                                           -------------------------------------

Hank McCoy:

         There is two moods when sleeping next to Hank: Cuddling into a comfort you can only dream of buying in stores. And mentally planning your funeral after you die from heat-stroke.

           It’s an amazing thing to watch someone you love gain confidence. Seeing Hank stand taller then before, voicing his opinion instead of exiling himself to the lab. All this while in blue, too. There was no way you’d make him feel bad by explain that he was gonna smother you one of these nights.

           It seemed he already knew. Every night you visited he would try and sleep on the farthest part of the bed. Curling in on himself while you did the same on the other side.

           It never lasted long. Both Hank and you were natural cuddlers. In the haze of sleep Hank reaches for his natural state as the big spoon. A branch of fur reaching around your middle and a bear of blue pressing into your back. In your own world of sleep your head is controlled by another. Lifting for the other branch to find it’s place under your neck.

           A heat stroke in the middle of the night is just a cross you have to bear.

                                                -------------------------------------

Jean Gray:

         She was already slightly an outcast amongst outcasts. Coming full circle and into your arms after running into each other on more then one occasion.  

           The only way you’d ever make her situation worse would be through a visit. Just like now.

           Only Scott seemed to notice when Jean suddenly stopped talking. Her eyes slightly widening and the brisk, but fast, walking she made towards the front door.

           You’re standing in front of the gate like a tourist. Looking up and down at the paper with a hastily scrawled address Jean hadn’t thought you’d actually use. She walks towards you with quick strides and flowing hair in your direction.

           “Hi!” You wave at her.

           “Hey, what-what are you doing here?” She asks, jogging the last few steps.

           “Sorry, you mentioned you weren’t doing anything today.” You say when she reaches you.

           “No, it’s fine. Just-just like, call first.” She looks beyond the gate towards her school.

           Scott stands at one of the balconies. You watched for too long and another two of her fellow students come out. One even waving in your direction. A gesture you returned.

           “The school isn’t really the best place for us to meet…” She says moving her head like she’s trying to convince herself.

           “Because of your-.” Your hand makes a wiggly motion next to your head. “little trick and whatever?”

           “It’s not-I don’t have a little trick.” Jean says.

           Your eye-brow raise and head tilt stopped her from trying to defend herself any further.

           One of the fondest memories shared was of the first real date. The one where Jean could answer every question you threw at her, about yourself and otherwise. She remembers the glee in your eyes when she’d pretend to think really hard and then answer with supreme confidence. You remember how it took you a few minutes to realize her gift. Back then it was just a theory. One proven fact after several incidents in your following interactions.

           “Babe,” You say. “You aren’t exactly subtle.”

                                       -------------------------------------

Logan/ Wolverine:

           “Stop moving,” You scold.

           Flat of your palm presses against his forehead, pushing him back onto the little table. He could easily push against your own strength but instead he falls back. Landing with a grunt as though he was mortally wounded.

           “Hank treats me better than you do.” He comments, wincing when you made another incision.

           Your medical know how was the smallest bit above average. Panic watching YouTube videos after the first time he asked for “a little help”. You still had yet to learn about pain killers.

           “Go to Hank next time, and then you can take all his beer, instead.” Using tweezers, you press into the skin. Taking hold of the bullet in his skin and pulling it outward.

           In normal cases bullets aren’t removed from wounds unless there’s a surgery. It took a little convincing from Logan’s side for you to remove the bullet the first time around. Come the second and your forcing his leg onto the table to dig out the bullet deep in his thigh.

           “It’s not my fault they appear in my hands. Almost like somebody is handing them to me.” He says.

           It’s impossible to not cringe when his body sews itself back together. It’s better to hop up and head to the fridge then to watch it happen. Grabbing one of those brands that taste, in a word, icky and bringing it back. The skin was back together by the time you sat down again.

           “Only because I don’t know where to buy morphine yet.” The beer is next to his head. A medical reason, not a reason of love.

                                            -------------------------------------

Kurt Wagner:

           One of these days you will last a day without getting a heart attack. Today is not one of those days.

           “Sorry, I’m sorry!” Kurt exclaims, trying to stop you from already screaming.

           It doesn’t matter the skin tone or look of any person. Someone suddenly appearing right next to you will always be scary.

           He’s done this before, appeared right next you and being surprised by your reaction.

           “It’s fine,” you say holding his shoulders as though he was the one who had been screaming. “Just, back up a few steps next time.” It’s a condition he always forgets and is never important enough to fuss about.

           He smiles in that “I’m sorry” way and takes your hand.

           It’s only a heart beat until Peter is at the door frame. Kurt still holding your hand like an elementary school couple. Peter’s arms were crossed and was tsk-ing at the entire scene in front of him.

           “Who taught you guys how to sneak in?” He asks.

[hopewritcs]

that’s a lot of colors.

pairing: thor odinson x reader

word count: 2.3k

request from @gbadwal: “thor dating a fashion designer 👩‍🎨”

summary: y/n and thor have been together for a while, and she’s moved into the avengers tower out of his fear of her being in trouble.  he may not be there always, but in their shared apartment she’s got her own makeshift fashion studio with the hopes of making it big someday.  

notes: there’s set up to the story, but the main setting is post age of ultron.  

marvel tag list: n/a

Of all things you could have pictured in your life, you’d never expected to be living with the world’s greatest heroes--or even that you were dating one of them.  That you, Y/N Y/L/N, were dating a God, literally.  Not just that he was just powerful and protective and looked like a fucking God, but the man was an actual real life God.  

You’d been mentoring students at FIT in New York during the Battle of New York and had been saved by said God in question when, on your drive back to your apartment, an alien creature had used your car as a trampoline to jump from the ground and up one of the other buildings.  The car had begun to spin, and your door had jammed.  But the blond God had landed right by you, stopping the car with his own hands and ripping the door off.  Which, after being grateful for the heroic save, all you could think about was the fact that your car was ruined and you weren’t sure how to explain aliens and Thor, the God of Thunder to the insurance company.  In fact, you were quite certain that your policy didn’t cover the car being used in the middle of a battle.  

Two months later, when the bill for the car came ( and you were right--insurance had refused to pay for any of the damages ) you’d marched yourself over to the Stark Tower and demanded to speak to someone about it.  You were being jumped from secretary to secretary, your eyes wild as you refused to leave the lobby of the building.  Eventually you said you’d speak only to one of the Avengers or no one at all, found a seat, and continued sketching your latest designs.  

It was no surprise eventually, when they all realized you had made their lobby your new studio--papers and pens spread out both on the clear glass coffee table and the couch where you sat-- they called someone from the Avengers to come down and talk with you.  

It happened to be the God himself, who immediately recognized you.  But, being unaware with things such as car insurance and phony claims, he wasn’t sure why you were there waiting in the lobby.  

And why you looked extremely pissed off.  

Upon seeing him you jumped up, a flurry of fabric pens and sketch paper falling in your wake as you’d stalked to the tall God and began berating him for his utter lack of decency and the fact that now you were going to have to pay thousands in damages for your car to be fixed--or get a new car--and you had poured all your savings into getting your designs started and you were still six weeks from debuting them to the world so you didn’t have the money and you couldn’t afford everything.  

And halfway through your wonderfully crafted speech somewhere between the lines “And you just ripped the door off the damn thing!”  and “Do you even have any money here on Earth?”  you’d started crying, the weight of everything falling on your shoulders.  

Of course, the reality of it all was you were indebted to the God standing before you, the God who pulled you into his arms as you started crying and attempted to sooth you as you stilled in your ranting.  You were grateful to him for literally saving your life.  But you were torn by your emotions, feeling the fear of it all, the gratefulness to Thor for saving you, the panic of having to pay to fix the car, and the hours you were working towards making sure your upcoming fashion show was going to be perfect.  You felt bad for crying on the God’s shoulder ( it was really his chest you were crying on, you were definitely not tall enough to reach his shoulder ) after having started off yelling at him for ruining your car.  

Somehow you left the lobby with your things ( neatly packed up to the best of Thor’s ability ) in tow and were brought up to the living area of the tower.  You wound up sitting to dinner with the rest of the Avengers as you calmed down, and left with Tony Stark’s personal information and his promise to pay for a brand new car due to “Point Break’s heroics”, and Thor’s promise to check up on you.  

A few years later, you we living at the newly named Avengers Tower with Thor, when he was there.  He spent a lot of his time traveling between Asgard and Midgard, but did make it a point to always come back to you.  After everything you’d gone through during the Battle of New York, your friendship with Thor had blossomed.  It hadn’t been long before he asked you out ( or, as you’d like to think you asked him to ask you out ).  

You were working on a new collection, and the apartment you and Thor shared in the tower was covered in different fabrics.  From sleek silks to patterns and taffeta.  You were all over the place, the sewing machine going at all odd hours of the night as you ran back and forth from the designs on the wall to where the clothing rack you’d put up for the finished garments was.  

“How can you even see where you’re going in this place?  I feel like I’m inside a tutu, which is not where I planned to be tonight.”  someone’s voice startled you, the measuring tape falling from its spot around your neck as you turned to the wall.  

“Don’t you knock, Tony?”  Your hands were on your waist as you turned to look at him, a pointed I’m in the middle of a possible fashion breakthrough look on your face.  With JARVIS out of commission, Tony was still working on some bugs with the new AI.  When he didn’t move, save to toy with the fabric sitting on one of the couches, you walked over and lightly smacked his hand away.  “Can I help you with something?”  

“Yeah, it appears Point Break’s stuck on Asgard for some princely duties or other.  So you’re going to come to the gala in his place instead.”  Tony said, not looking up from the fabric he’d been looking at before.  Your mouth dropped open and you were about to respond when he tsked at you.  “Don’t argue with me, Y/N.  I always get my way, and it’s settled.  It’s still a couple of days away, that’s enough time to get us all fitted, right?”  

“Excuse me?  Fitted for what?  Who all?”  You dropped the fabric you’d taken hold of and looked at him, stuttering through your response.  

“The rest of the team.  I thought you were paying attention.”  

“Anthony Stark, what the hell are you talking about.”

Tony stood up once more with a flourish and made his way back toward the door, “You’ll be designing our gala wardrobe.  Remember, my signature color’s red.”  

The door closed behind him, leaving you open mouthed and staring right through the door.  You wanted to scream and argue with him.  Less than a week to design something for each individual member of the Avengers?  Stark must have lost his mind.  Of course, it helped that you’d previously taken all their measurements just in case you needed them.  But actually being in charge of designing gowns and suits alike?  It was a dream, honestly, but you weren’t ready.  You needed more time.  

You really wanted to kill Tony.  

It had been a day and a half since you’d seen Tony and heard what he wanted for the team.  After meeting with the rest of them, and from knowing who they were, you’d spent the rest of that day sketching the new wardrobe designs.  You cursed under your breath because damn it Stark this was actually a good idea.  And it got your mind off of worrying about your latest collection possibly tanking as well as it was doing something for the people you loved.  And hell the designs were great, not to toot your own horn or anything.  

Unfortunately for you, cell phones connecting Midgard and Asgard didn’t exist yet, so you had to just stare into space when you were cursing your boyfriend for leaving you alone to deal with this mess.  “At least if you were here I’d have someone to go with.  But no, I’ll be with everyone else and they’ll be wearing my designs and there’ll be paparazzi there and everyone will be asking questions that I couldn’t possibly know the answer to and oh boy are you so lucky I can’t get to Asgard, Thor, because I can only imagine that Tony got this,” you held up the dress shirt you were making for Tony--red silk, with gold thread running through it--to the sky as if for emphasis for the invisible Thor you were scolding, “idea from you.”  

You planned each outfit for each individual person, and included one for yourself at the insistent reminder from both Tony and Pepper that you would also be in attendance.  You’d even made something for Thor, which was partially for him and partially for you.  The design was much colorful than what you’d expect Thor would ever wear without your push.  But knowing that he was likely the one who put this project on your shoulders, you wanted to make sure he had something too.  It made you feel a lot better, if nothing else, since you knew he wasn’t going to be there to wear it.  Hell, you’d even included your own cape for his outfit.  

The day of the gala everyone had attempted to get you ready.  You were rarely ever around for these kinds of events, so it was probably a way that they were attempting to calm your nerves.  It felt a million times worse than when you’d debuted your first collection after you started spending time with Thor.  

Your show had been flooded with the press, and almost half of them ( it was probably more ) had asked mostly about your connection to the God of Thunder.  That wouldn’t have irritated you as much as it had, had it not been the big debut you’d been dreaming of with the collection of solely your own things under your own start up designer label.  If it were someone else’s show, like the designers you’d worked for previously, you wouldn’t have been pissed that all the attention was the blond man on your arm for the better part of the night.  

Tonight was different, it was all about the Avengers.  You were the one tagging along.  You piled into the limo with the rest of the team, awkwardly tapping at your legs and looking around as everyone made small talk on the way to the event.  

You were ushered into the building through the back entrance, thankfully bypassing any sort of press in the front of the place.  And everyone was surprisingly quiet once you all got into the building.  

Before you could ask, you were brought into the main room and looked around.  It looked as though it was set up for some kind of show, and you turned around but found yourself standing alone.  

“Uh, hello?  Where did you guys go?”  You walked around a little bit, looking for wherever it was the Avengers had run off too, but you’d seen no sign of them.  “Hello?” 

“They’re backstage getting ready for the show.”  A loud voice, the voice of your boyfriend startled you as you turned around.  A grin on your face as you spotted him standing behind you.  His long blond locks were pulled back into a bun behind his head and he was wearing the outfit you’d designed for.  Even the color splatter patterned cape you’d made out of pure spite was resting upon his shoulders.  “You know, Y/N, this is a lot different than everyone else’s clothes.”  

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”  You said softly, walking toward him and putting your hands up on his shoulders to give him a quick kiss in greeting, and then when you pulled back, you smoothed out his clothes and fixed anything that was out of place.  

“And you still made me something?”

“I was kind of mad you’d suggested me going to a gala with everyone if you weren’t going to be there too.”  You pouted, looking up at him.  “Sorry.”  

“It’s alright.  I don’t hate it.”  He laughed, putting his arms around you as you raised your eyebrows at him.  “I don’t hate anything you make.”  

You downright awed at the comment, your smile growing as you looked up at him.  “You’re too sweet, Thor.”  You played with the collar of his suit as you looked up at him.  “So how did you get back?  I thought Tony said you were going to be busy and couldn’t come to the gala?”  You turned your head slightly to look around a bit before looking back at him with a confused expression.  “Then again, this doesn’t look like one of Tony’s usual parties.”  

“I convinced Stark to help me out with something.”  Thor said, spinning you around in his arms and leading you towards the center of the room, where there stood a long stage--a runway.  But you didn’t get a chance to speak before he did, his head bent down to whisper to you, “I figured since the last show of your designs was ruined by me showing up, it was only fair that the Avengers threw the next showing.”  

You spun back around to face your boyfriend, putting your hands on either side of his face as you pulled him towards you for a kiss.  “You are the sweetest, kindest, best boyfriend in the entire galaxy.”  You punctuated each adjective with another peck to his lips.  “I love you.”  

“I love you too.”  

[20dollarlolita]

#todayatwork

okay, yesterday at work.

First of all, all customers are important to us. Some don’t feel like that, like when they’re told to wait in the cut counter line for scissors to be unlocked, but everyone deserves our time and they’re going to get it in the order that they got in line. It is unfair to ask a customer whose turn it is to be helped to just hang around while we go unlock scissors for someone who hasn’t waited at all. (People who work at other stores: IDK how difficult it is to unlock locked merchandise at your store, but it’s a several-minute process at mine. It takes at minimum the same amount of time that it’d take to cut two bolts of fabric, print a tag, and put them in gobacks)

It’s also not fair for customers who have waited in the register line for several minutes to just hang on a second while a customer on the phone tells me all of their problems, when I need to transfer them to another department anyway since I’m unable to answer their question on my own. They’re waited in line, and the phone call jumped in front of them. It wouldn’t be fair for me to wring up another customer for 6 minutes just because they jumped to the front of the line, and it’s equally unfair to chat on the phone for 6 minutes just because the call jumped to the front of the line.

And yet, the main complaints I hear are that someone had to wait in the cut counter line to get locked merchandise unlocked, and that they had to be put on hold before someone could answer their question. The third most common complaint is that the other stores in our area are smaller than ours. Good point. Let me just cut a third off the home dec department and go shove it onto the neighbor store.

But speaking of neighbor stores, when you call us and say that another store said we had it, that doesn’t actually make us any more or less likely to have the thing. It’s not like that monty hall puzzle; the chances of us having it doesn’t change when you tell us what another store said.

Part of this is because some stores have phantom inventory problems, where our inventory computer says we have multiple bolts or cases of a product that we don’t have actually in the store. This makes the Buy Online PickUp in Store system awful, btw

And sometimes, we know you’re flat out lying.

For example, making up names here, if you call and say the store in R-ville County said that we carry leather 3/16th” belts for treadle machines, or the Y-city store said you sell live puppies, or the store on <street that was the store we were on before we moved and that now houses a Party City> sells full size tanned cow hides, and the associate pauses and then goes, “uh huuuuh...” that’s because we’re trying to find out if you called the wrong store or if you’re lying and think we’ll work harder if you say another store sent you.

So, if you called yesterday and wanted a Brother brand coverstitch machine and said the F-town store said we sold them (our store does not sell ANY sewing machines), and there were 11 people in line when you called and I was the only cashier AND I just had to untie my apron to answer the phone because I accidentally slammed it in my drawer and couldn’t get it out until someone paid cash and suddenly no one wanted to pay cash and then the gosh darn phone rings, and I tell you that we don’t sell Brother machines in this store, the alleged fact that the F-town store said we carry them doesn’t actually summon the item to our store.

So, I did what we’re supposed to do, put her on hold, rang up my customer in front of me, then picked up and gave her the number of the store we’re contracted with that does sell sewing machines (but not Brothers), because that store usually doesn’t have a 13-customer line and no available backup.

I checked in later with the person who was working that store. This customer ranted for several minutes about me putting her on hold, and about how the F-town store said they didn’t carry Brother machines, and then proceeded to explain how she never, didn’t, 100% didn’t want a serger, then described what she wanted to sew and confirmed that she wanted a coverstitch that did nothing a coverstitch does but everything that a serger does. AKA a serger.

The entire call took about 45 minutes and she was incredibly upset that the girl from the store she called couldn’t have taken her call and made her call someone else.

She called me grumpy, and if I could have gotten away with it, I’d have pulled the, “Yeah. There’s something in my ass and it’s making me grumpy. Wait! It’s your impossible to find item that you swear we have when it doesn’t exist in my store! Your yelling* made one exist! I pulled this one out of my ass JUST FOR YOU!”

* to her credit, this woman didn’t yell.

[thedappleddragon]

haha here we go again

there's a lot of dumb ranting and 3 days worth of logs and a dream in here so im gonna spare evryone’s dashboard and just put it all under the cut.

tw bad memories, talk of unhealthy relations with food, and dreams about dead animals

I realized I kind of entirely forgot to write about what I did yesterday? I kind of did a lot. I know my mom wanted to work on getting tile laid out in front of her bathroom, so we worked together to scrub the concrete and wipe up all the dirt and dust and whatever was under the carpet and remove some of the nails in the floor and bring up a spiky metal strip between the bathroom door and where the carpet was. The other main thing I remember is deciding to continue work on my dress, sewing up the outer bodice, checking that the bodice and lining would fit together, deciding I’d rather have no different colored front panel, and working on the circle skirt. At first I tried cutting the fabric on my bed, but it wasn’t big enough and too lumpy. I contemplated asking my friends if I could borrow their dining table, but I ended up clearing off my own. After I traced and was in the middle of pinning, I accidentally knocked over a glass bowl that I had set on the chair. My mom heard it from the other room and had me come to her room to tell her what it was. She got angry at me, which I thought was fuckin stupid if it was an accident, but after some reflection while cleaning up the glass pieces, I kind of understood why. Mostly I got a little upset about 2 ceramic pieces I made during school breaking a little from the drop. One was a mushroom house from middle school that always makes me remember feeling like an asshole during peer review when I told my person to smooth their project more because I didn’t know “no improvement needed” was an option until I got back to my desk and saw my person saying it was good in all categories because everyone thought my project was great for some reason. The other was a bunch of flowers on a circle. It was the last project we did before quarantine hit, I think. That one is in less tough shape, just a couple flowers knocked off and a chip on one of them. They can both be glued back together, I guess. Then my mom called me back into her room to listen to her talk about wanting to eat huge amounts of food, because she’s clinically depressed with BPD and PTSD and DID and several other acronyms and her favorite coping mechanism is food, but her doctor put her on a diet so she can get her knees replaced, but recently she’s been getting into a zone where she talks about wanting to eat entire cakes and pizzas and buckets of kfc and a gallon of queso or whatever the fuck and she goes “doesn’t that sound GOOD?” And I have to laugh along and say “haha no that sounds bad actually” and get her a piece of ham or something. And every time she goes on her spiel the only thing I can think of is the greedy from the raggedy Ann and Andy musical. It’s just this horrible undulating orange blob that eats everything in sight and seeing it for the first time just made me think of mom and it made me very uncomfortable, with all the orange goo and hurling noises. Also reminds me of this horrible video game boss fight where it’s the apocalypse and a fat lady on a scooter took over the buffet and eats so much during her boss fight, during the defeat cutscene she projectile vomits everywhere and dies. My brother Greg showed me that thinking it was funny. I hated it, and I still do. He showed me a lot of things he thought were funny as a shitty little kid, and I remember several of them being very upsetting. It’s ok. I don’t want to dwell on it. But after cleaning the glass and talking to mom I brought my fabric to my room and called it a night. Oh wait my dad also helped me with some paperwork my coworker handed me so I could get on the payroll.

Today I woke up differently than I have in a long time. I set an alarm for 10 am so I could be at work by 11, but I woke up at 9 from a heavy sleep with dreams about hanging out with my friend in my room, worrying about my dirty house. I wanted to sleep longer, so I got up at 10 to have breakfast and get ready. I spent my shift changing the price tags all around the store, making everything more expensive. I’m gonna work again on Tuesday where I’ll learn how to use the register. I hope I don’t fuk it up, but I have a couple days to relax until then. Maybe I’ll work on my dress. My friends all want to go to prom together, so my new deadline will be March 2nd or a little before. I still need to buy a ticket, but I don’t have access to the link to buy one :( bleh I’m too tired right now to worry about this shit. I only worked 4 hours again today, but after I got home I felt like I could have worked longer if they gave me something else to do. The only price tags left to change were a bunch of grills and stuff I don’t know about but I don’t know if they had any other work for my to do. But I’m glad I went home tho because I was hungry and my feet hurt from standing lol. I did laundry and made myself dinner and washed my hair and drew a little bit and made the table and tbh the pacing of today has been so weird I don’t remember everything. It’s only 1am but I think I’m just gonna go to bed. my friends started talking about going to prom, and I really want to join them, but I can't figure out where/how to buy a ticket. my brain started being really mean to me, syaing that I was being annoying and pushy and that they didnt want me at prom for some reason, so I low-key almost made myself cry until my friend offered to let me be their platonic date since their partner couldn't go. 

last night I had a dream about a hard video game where when you played it, the black shadow enemies would fight you in real life, and one of them left imprints on my arm in the shape of lego bricks. they could only attack you so long as you played the game, and they tried to capture people and you were supposed to save them. I decided it was my time to play, and I walked into my garage that had turned into a cave with bat-people fused into the wall. I paid them no mind as I rescued a girl who was my irl brother, grabbing her hand and pulling her into another versoin of my garage which was uncorrupted and normal looking. she thanked me, and I said it was no problem. then I tricked her, telling her not to trust so easily, as I became one of the shadow enemies and engulfed her in a black sack, trapping her and leaving the room. I came back a couple minutes later, letting him free (now my brain told me he was my brother) telling him I just wanted to know if I was capable of tricking him, and didnt actually want to kill him or whatever.  another big chunk of my dream was taken up by me, my sister, and my dad visiting a run down petting zoo/gamestop. the petting zoo barn was very dark with low ceilings with lots of rabbits and pigs and hay. one of us accidentally killed either a pig or a tiger right next to the exit door, and I had to slink around the gamester trying to distract the owner and keep him from going in the barn and escaping at the same time. I dont remember how it ended, other than me waking up with a sore throat from breathing so deeply through my nose. I had slept on my stomach wit my pillow in my face so I could hardly breathe, and even after I woke up I felt like I wasnt getting enough air. I HATE that feeling, I always felt like I was suffocating in middle school for some reason. I thinkk somethings wrong with my airway but im not gonna do anything about it. im gonna continue to spend 80% of my day laying down so my resting heart rate and breathing speed is slower than an goddamn sloth. whatever.

right now as im laying in bed typing this I feel utterly unpoductive but I KNOW I did SOME shit today. but yeah mostly I relaxed. I worked on my dress, removing and replacing the blue front panel. I lost my exacto knife somewhere so I went to dollar tree to get a knockoff, along with snacks for mom and my sister. the blades aren't as sharp as exacto, but I still know where the name brands blades are so maybe Ill try and see if they're compatible. when I open the package everything was oily and gross, so I washed everything off with soap and water before I used them to cut the threads of the panel seams. I could have used my seam ripper but I wanted to get a replacement craft knife anyway. its kinda neat that it came with 6 different shaped blades for different crafts :) but uhh I also cut out the other half of the circle skirt of the dress, and I have a bunch of extra fabric left over. probably enough to make a whole other bodess if I wanted too. I used my sewing machine to attach the new front panel, and I was hoping to get more sewing done tonight, but when I asked my sister if it was ok for me to use my sewing machine (it right next to the wall between our rooms so she can hear it from there) she said she was going to bed soon so I just attatched the front panel and called it a night. so that kinda sucked. I still have another day tomorrow before I have to work again, and I can still work on my dress on Tuesday after work. idk why my brain thinks that one 4 hour shift is gonna take up my entire day lmao. I just have to get the whole thing done by may 2nd. GOD that reminds me, im gonna be so busy next month. I have six events back to back happening like every other day, plus work. oof. I'll have to let my boss know, but idk If that's gonna make him mad. I've already got pretty comfortable with the lady in charge of the garden center who’s taken lead position while the manager is on vacation, but I dont think I;ll every understand my boss. he’s a sarcastic busy old man and NOT AT ALL approachable. whatever. really the only other tings I did today were drink a shit ton of water play harvest moon, spend too much time on tiktok, and sraw a couple dum things for my friends’ princess au. I fucking HATE the drawing I did for Anna, so I designed her a secondary outfit more inspired by sky pirate bohemian vibes, since she rules over the floating islands. idk if I'll replace her old outfit with the new one in the lineup or just re-draw her old one with better shapes and composition and match the style better or what. I just need it changed eventually becasuse it looks like ass. tbh now that ve taken a little bit of time away from the princess au, there are a couple designs im not 100% satisfied with. but I know that if I go back and make them more detailed or whatever the’ll be more of a hassle to draw and aslkdfhalksdf I dont know anymore. I'm still tied up about color pallets and trying to give everyone a distinct color, and im a little upset it doesn't quite work, and FUCK dude the edgy one’s lore and character are weird and I kind of want to revise it to make it a little nicer but its not my character and I need to stop shoving my dirty little mitts into everyone’s ocs and AHAGHRGHGARGHHG idk man. her power is necromancy and she has a skeleton army, which I think I kinda cool, but I also think it would be neat if her powers extended beyond just that to communing with the dead, helping them find rest, and THEN maybe it can branch into helping fallen soldiers fight again to help them with unfinished buisness. and then if she goes feral and starts abusing her powers, she ignores all the communication and concent with the dead and instead magically rips them from thr ground to do her bidding and they’re uncontrollable and violent and aimless, just like her mind slipping from the magical blight infecting her. idk man we’re till working on a lot of lore. her concept could be SO COOL with just that little bit of extra thought, but so far it’s just MY POWER IS DEATH IM SO EDGY. ugh I know its fuckin rude to bash your friends oc ideas and I might be too overbearing and controlling of this au but dammit im tired and im mean sometimes and my ego is through the goddamn roof and im so sexy and im always right and my meat is huge. ah shit I rpomised my friend I would help her with character design for the dead king but I was busy when she firat asked me and now im not busy but im not doing it ugh. im just frustrated right now because I spent wayyyy to fuckin long just laying in bed watching tikotks and youtube and playing harvest moon an doing jack shit all day. but hey at least I attempted to get a new social security card again today. and them promptly gave up when they said my adress was invalid. again. I feel like im in an uncomfortable medium between having no plans and worrying about the future and having too many plans all the time oh my god. ive been so focused on getting a job and then having a job and making this dress I completely forgot about college shit. thankfully there's no hard deadlines coming up that I haven't already finished. whatever I dont really want to worry about all this hit right now, im just gonna take it one day at a time. (haha it feels like my angel oc just stepped in. how nice of him :) )

[pipedream-truths]

i know we all ignore nora’s extra content anyway (*cough* andreil wedding *cough*) but i have headcanons about this fashion designer allison thing

okay so

allison goes pro. after fighting tooth and nail for the right to play exy there’s no way she’s giving it up after college. also no one expects her to actually do it or succeed so it’s a giant fuck you to all the haters

she’s the first fox to ever play professionally and when she gets signed she asks wymack if she’s made him proud. he tells her he was always proud.

once she’s on her new team (one whose colors are not that god awful orange this time) she notices some things about the uniforms that could use…improvement

initially her critique just gets written off as her being a bitch but now that she’s pointed it out everyone starts to see it, see what could be better. and especially her fellow women teammates pool ideas and research and resources until they’ve got crazily in depth designs that are just so much more functional and clean and appealing. they pitch the designs at a meeting their coach set up just so they’d spend more time practicing in the uniforms than ripping apart the outside of them.

the suits try to say no but theodora muldani happens to be on allison’s team and between allison and thea they don’t stand a chance.

i need a whole separate post for thea and allison’s friendship

so it’s agreed but when the new uniforms arrive the next season and the team is trying them on they still aren’t right? wtf? so allison decides to take matters into her own hands.

well, renee’s hands, at least in the beginning. renee’s really good at making clothes and allison bought her a high power commercial sewing machine for christmas last year so plug that baby in and let’s kick corporate ass

allison does learn how to do it all on her own. she just likes watching renee work, and it’s a way to spend extra time with her when she’s home and not halfway across the world

she starts small because the concern is brought up that if she just starts producing her own team merch it’ll be a contract violation or some other legal shit. so she just does the undergarments for her and her friends. then pretty much everyone on the team is placing an order in. then dan asks if she can do some stuff for a few of the people on the team she’s coaching. word spreads and the media gets ahold of it and starts praising allison’s ingenuity

there are few pos articles about how “women’s place has always been at the loom” and another that cries about her “struggle to stay in touch with her femininity in a predominantly male sport” detailing how she turned to clothing as a last refuge and sanctuary, which ??no?? but most of the media coverage is good for once in allison’s life

at that point her team higher-ups have to finally recognize what she’s doing and fall over themselves to sign agreements that she’s affiliated with them and whatever

she goes to a new team instead

the transition keeps her busy and the buzz dies down, so she has time to really consider and think about what she wants to do

a lot of time actually, because she gets injured in a game and is out for the rest of the season. it’s as she’s ranting to renee about what the point of wearing armor even is if her collarbone still snapped like a twig that she realizes yeah, their armor is really shitty, and she could do better?

once she gets a few prototypes made she enlists neil and matt to try it out. andrew doesn’t say anything the whole time until they’re packing up to leave

“add a mouth guard so josten can’t run his fucking mouth during games”

kevin finds out he wasn’t invited and throws a hissy fit which is exactly why she didn’t want him there in the first place. but kevin knows exy better than anyone and will know any weaknesses in the armor better than anyone so she gives him the new version and leaves him at the court for a few hours. when she picks him up they outline every good and bad thing

the new gloves may or may not be called day gloves.

if they are it’s just because there’s a black version called night gloves

so eventually, after it’s been tested a million times and she has a few sets of it, allison’s gotta patent this shit. she’s gotta patent it and gotta unveil it in the most dramatic way possible.

the question: how?

she doesn’t want to just sell all her hard work to some bigger company or have it be attached to whatever team she’s playing for now. or any team for that matter. she wants this new gear to be accessible to all. and affordable. unlike the two hundred fifty “02” kevin day sweatshirt currently on sale at exites that she’s so buying him for his birthday just to embarrass him

she did not expect neil to have the same sweatshirt? apparently it’s part of some inside joke between him and andrew about neil being obsessed with kevin? who the fuck knows what goes on there. definitely not allison.

anyway

by this time it’s getting close enough to the olympics that Court training is getting super intense

like, if not for the whole nest thing, kevin and jean and neil probably wouldn’t leave the stadium

if we’re ignoring the extra content then we’re ignoring that jean doesn’t make Court

thea tells allison kevin had to get his own bed because with both his racquet and the dog in the bed there’s no room for her and she sure as hell isn’t giving up her memory foam mattress

for whatever reason this pathetic story about kevin sparks an idea in allison (probably has to do with her preying on everyone else’s current patheticness)

using all her reynolds bargaining skills and fox brutality along with renee’s charm, she bullies the people in charge into replacing their former super expensive top grade gear with allison’s new stuff. she goes home after days and days of debate and arm-twisting and lying through her teeth and collapses onto the couch. renee has to hold her pretty much until the next morning before she’s recovered enough to even move.

“i feel like a politician babe. wash my face for me, i can feel the political pimples coming out of my pores.”

and of course allison’s new gear is better than any other team’s. she didn’t spend a month schmoozing up to that swedish developer just to be usurped on an international level. and she didn’t learn japanese just to talk to kayleigh and tetsuji’s original developers for nothing either.

what better way to establish yourself than the fucking olympics

“I’m like a fucking superhero babe” she says, feet in renee’s lap, wine in hand, gold medal around her neck

compared to dealing with everyone involved with the Court deal, the rest of it is a piece of cake

she retires not long after the olympics

once she does that, she can focus on her brand

renee suggests she connect with her younger customers

bond with the kids. youth outreach stuff. allison tries to get away with just donating a bunch of armor but renee gives her a Look so allison actually goes and talks to some of them.

she pretty much hates it. the only kids she likes are her foxes’. but she does meet a few little ones who her success has impacted and encouraged and that’s. that’s something.

once it gets so big she can’t manage everything, it’s with great reluctance that she dials an international call to germany.

nicky’s only reservation is the amount of time he’ll spend stateside versus at home with erik, but they work it out and allison leaves him in charge of marketing with a promise to rip off his balls and feed them to erik junior the goldfish if nicky screws up her company

she expands into generalized athletic/active wear, normal stuff that isn’t exy exclusive.

“what other sport is there other than exy”

“stickball” andrew whispers

“AGAIN WITH THE STICKBALL WHAT IS STICKBALL”

poor kevin

bc why do anything if you can’t look and feel good doing it

her parents try to invest in the company.

that’s a giant fuck no. she built this baby from the ground up. it is hers. they didn’t want her and exy before and they’re not getting her and exy now. in no way does she ever want to be tied to them or their money ever again.

she goes into exites sometimes to scope out what the people actually buying her product say about it and there it is. that kevin day sweatshirt. she nearly buys out the exites chain just to make them stop selling it.

allison reynolds gets inducted into the exy hall of fame for her contribution to the sport as a Court gold medalist and for revolutonizing exy armor forever.

[hayffiebird]

Taste of Strawberries, Chap. 9 (part two)

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay Multi-chapter, Rated M Chapter 9 A rain of tears Part two The steady sound of the sewing machine filled the kitchen. Soup cooked gently on the stove and it was one of those rare peaceful moments in the Abernathy household. Helena steered the textile under the needle and her large stomach pressed out her own dress as she worked. A content little humming came from under the table behind her. The fresh table cloth reached almost all the way down to the floor and the fabric flickered when a child’s foot poked out before it quickly drew back in again. Helena lifted her gaze when a shadow moved outside the window and she saw her husband as he bent over the rain barrel. He did so every day when he got home from work, ever since Haymitch was born. Washed off the worst, put on some fresh clothes so he could spend more time with his son. “Where’s my boy?” Dom asked the moment he opened the door and Haymitch scrambled out so fast he nearly pulled with him his mother's neatly set table. “Here!” Haymitch shrieked and threw himself into his father’s embrace. They laughed like maniacs, both of them as Dom swung him around in his arms. Helena didn’t even turn her head. Almost five years had gotten her used to her two boys and the racket they were making.

“Again!” Haymitch shouted and Dom swung him around over and over until his own chuckles deteriorated into a fit of coughing. He put Haymitch down and the boy tumbled over, dizzy and giggling. Dom pressed his hankie against his mouth trying to stifle the coughs. Haymitch pulled himself up, grinning and tugging at his father’s shirt tail. “Again!” Dom waved him off good-naturedly. “’nother time, kid. Pull me… pull me a chair, will you, Haymitch?” He did so and Dom slumped down on it, panting and wheezing. But he wiped his mouth with the hankie and smiled at Haymitch when the boy crawled up on his lap. Dom ruffled his hair and Haymitch had already begun searching through his pockets. This was a common game in the Abernathy household and it didn’t take Haymitch long to find what he was looking for. “That’s for you,” Dom said. Haymitch held the round smooth gray stone on his palm. It glittered in the afternoon light. He stroked it against his cheek. They were his most beloved treasures. His father had given him one every other day since he turned three. At night Haymitch kept them in a box by the kitchen sofa since his mother didn’t want him to have them with him in bed. It was grandpa Harold who built it. Each night pa lifted the wooden seat off the kitchen sofa revealing the soft beddings underneath. Before they tucked him in and turned the lights off, both he and ma sat with him for a while. Haymitch would then hold on to his father’s large hand and talk nonstop. About what they would do on Sunday, about his little brother or sister. And school. Most of all school. It was still a few months to go. Helena wanted to make him something new for his first day. Something else than his usual clothes made from Dom’s hand-me-downs. A new shirt, a pair of trousers. Haymitch would get to choose the colors. If they could save up enough money until then. Haymitch always woke before anyone else in the family. But one sunny summer morning when breakfast was already on the table Haymitch burrowed down into his pillow and didn’t want to get up. And it didn’t take Helena long to find the first pox on his skin. Dom moved out into the kitchen and their son was installed in their bed. The two of them had already had chicken pox but Haymitch had no fun days to come. Red spots covered him from head to toe and he whimpered and cried and kicked around the bed sheets when his mother wouldn’t let him scratch. Greasy Sae came with a salve from the apothecary and Haymitch spend most of his days sticky and miserable, clutching his mother, disgruntled that her large stomach was so much in the way. Seven days in though, the spots had scabbed over and Haymitch was almost back to normal. A little subdued maybe. By then Helena badly needed to make a visit to the Thornleys in town. The best would have been to leave Haymitch on the bed contentedly and with a book but with Sae not home and with no one else to look after him there was nothing else to do but get the boy dressed and bring him. The market day was in full swing. Haymitch’s pants pockets clinked with each step he took, filled as they were with some of his favorite rocks. He hummed to himself and swung his free hand that wasn’t holding ma’s but when they reached the Thornley’s door and he realized where they were going he resisted, just like Helena knew he would. “Not dagon lady!” “Don’t call her that, Haymitch. She’s not a dragon lady. And it won’t take long.” But Haymitch put his heels in and shook his head, as stubbornly as only Haymitch could be. “No, no, no!” Helena swallowed a sigh. “Alright,” she said. Market stalls had been put up all around the square and in the middle a group of children played, jumping rope and playing clap games. “Then you’ll stay here with the other children where I can see you.” “Mm,” said Haymitch and Helena let him loose, crossing her fingers he’d behave. "I expected you here three days ago," Ruth said when she opened the door. Her daughter peered out behind her skirt. They were very alike Gertie and her mother. Same brown hair, snubbed noses and spotty skin.

Gertie eyed the sewing basket suspiciously. She hated it when Helena arrived since the clothes she made were usually for her. Sometimes she had fits of rage and threw herself on the floor kicking and screaming and boxing herself with her fists. “Haymitch had the chicken pox,” Helena said. “He’s not contagious,” she added but the woman had already ushered her daughter inside. “I shouldn’t have to wait,” Ruth said. “Just because the Seam are spreading around diseases I shouldn’t have to…” Helena listened with very measured features. It was always the same. A rant always followed when she knocked on Thornley’s door, about one thing or the other. “I’m so sick of those brats from the Seam!” was her favorite subject. That Helena might take offence didn’t even seem to have crossed her mind. But she was the only regular customer Helena could count on besides the Undersee’s. And afterwards she could be almost mild. Helena got a feeling Ruth needed someone to talk to, even if it was just to pour out all of her bitterness. She was divorced. And to be devorced was all but unheard of in Twelve. Maybe that’s why she was so angry all the time.

They kept to themselves, Ruth and Gertie, but she liked the baker and his wife, or at least approved of them because Helena saw them often enough in the bakery. Not a surprise really. Kinder people than the Mellark's were hard to come by. And their goods were first class.

Gertie always stood close to the door then, in her brand-new dress and nibbled on the tip of her thumb, not quite sucking on it and when Mrs. Mellark saw it she always told her son to go and say hi to her.

Graham was just two years older than Haymitch but he'd always been big for his age. He never talked much but he was a kind soul, just like his parents. He trudged over to Gertie when his mother told him to. And then the pair of them stood there next to each other, until Ruth was done with her purchases.

They agreed on a new time to take the measurements and bid each other good morning. Helena shifted her weight to her other foot, rubbing her hand against her back. But she hadn’t more than turned from Ruth’s house when she heard a loud shriek. A shriek she recognized.

On the ground in a cloud of dust, Haymitch rolled around with one of the other children. Both he and the girl screamed and hit each other everywhere they could. The other children, frightened and alarmed stood around them and one girl cried with her hand pressed to her face.

Just when Helena and another running woman reach their children the girl with flying blonde hair pressed Haymitch into the dirt. She sat on him and both of them hit their fists on the other wherever they could. “Maysilee!” Mrs Donner pulled the girl up just when Helena pulled her son up. They still tried to kick each other and she kept him away from Maysilee. They were covered in dirt and grazes. And the other girl, the sister, cried more than ever. “What is this, Haymitch!?” “She took my rock!” Haymitch yelled and angry tears ran down his pox covered face. “I didn't!” Maysilee pushed her long blonde hair from her eyes and mouth furiously, her face all red. “I just looked at it!” “Mine! Mine!” Haymitch stomped his foot on the ground. “Stoopid!”  “Haymitch, that’s enough of that,” Helena said and Haymitch silenced but he rubbed his wet cheeks angrily, making them even dirtier. Helena and Mrs Donner pulled their children towards the sweetshop. Haymitch, Maysilee and Leonore who sobbed uncontrollably, holding on to her mother’s hand. In the apartment above they washed off their fighters. Haymitch glared at Maysilee who glared right back while their mother’s put band aids on elbows and knees. Leonore, seeing her sister wasn't in any immediate danger had stopped crying. She watched Haymitch curiously. “Hi,” she said. “Hm,” said Haymitch but after a look from his mother he muttered, “Hello.” “I have a birdie, Maysilee have a birdie too.” “Why don't you show him Pip and Flip,” their mother said. Leonore nodded eagerly and took her sister's hand. Haymitch watched them disappear into the next room. His face was still dark but the curiosity won over and he followed them. Mrs. Donner pulled out a chair for Helena and set the kettle to boil. The canaries sang and twittered in the next room and they heard their children’s voices and most of all Leonore when she eagerly presented the birds. “They grow up so fast,” Mrs. Donner said when she poured tea into their cups. Her long hair was tied back in a bun. Helena remembered her at school, always smiling always surrounded by a group of friends. It was her father’s sweetshop and she had never been short on suitors before she became Mrs Donner. “They’re around the same age, aren’t they?” ”He’ll start school in September,” Helena said. ”The girls too.” She blew on her tea and took a sip. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Mrs. Undersee told me what excellent work you did on Ollie’s school clothes…” xXx And as sunny as anyone could ever wish for, the first day arrived. For Haymitch, for Maysilee and Leonore and all the other five year olds. Haymitch came to school washed and combed and dressed in a sky blue shirt. Pa was in the mines and ma had to be home with his two day old brother. But grandpa Harold was there. He and all the other parents and relatives lined the walls. Haymitch was shown into a bench just behind the Donner girls and when the boy sought him out his grandfather gave him a hint of a wink and Haymitch smiled, a little less nervous. “You’re growing like weed, Haymitch,” pa said when they were all seated at the dinner table. Ma and pa and Haymitch and grandpa Harold. And baby Amadeus. Haymitch carried out the moses basket for ma to put him in so he wouldn’t feel left out. “Soon you’re gonna want to borrow my shaving kit, won’t you?” Dom said and Haymitch grinned, mouth full of stew. ”I don’t have a beard!” “You sure?” Dom said and reached out to feel his chin. But before he could, a spasm of bone rattling coughs ripped through his body and he tipped the water jug over when he pressed his hand against his mouth. A sea of water flowed over the table before Helena could snatch it. Amadeus wailed, Haymitch patted him and tears tilted down Dom’s bright red face. When he lowered the hankie to try and draw a breath it was covered in black mucus. ”You have to see the doctor,” Helena said. That was when they were in bed and both the boys were sleeping. “Helena...” “That’s what he’s here for,” she said. “It’s his job to take care of the coal miners.” “You know what’d happen. He’ll just say I’m not fit to work.” “You can’t go on like this!” she said, fighting to keep her voice down so she wouldn’t wake the children. “There’re four of us now.” “We’ll talk to pa. Maybe the woodshop …” “They haven’t had an apprentice in almost six years now. You think the master’s gonna want a 30 year old hand-me-down coal miner?” Amadeus whimpered in his crib and Helena pulled the covers from the bed. She didn’t look at Dom. “Don’t worry about me, Len,” he said when she put the baby to her chest and the whimpers stopped. “I’ll be fine.” He watched her back as she fed their child and even though neither of them said it they were both thinking it. Dom would be fine, because he had to be. to be continued... Author’s note: I’m really enjoying writing this timeline and a tiny happy clueless Haymitch with his family still alive.

I hope you enjoyed reading. What did you think? Did you recognize all the canon characters? Remember reviews are love and always appreciated and it really help me to update faster. :)

[allisonreader]

Oh, the need to rant about sewing machines and bad ideas because people don’t actually know what they’re talking about.

My blood's just boiling about a YouTube video I just tried to watch. "Five best sewing machines of 2022". 

What a load of baloney. 

Seriously. 

The video starts off with recommending a toy machine "because of the low cost." What that low cost is going to get you is pain and suffering. Not to mention that it’s unfixable. The sewing machine technicians I work with will not touch them. There’s nothing they can do for them if they break and it’s not worth it to put the money into them. You’re slightly better off with a Singer from a box store. At least you’ll get a little more use out of it. And even then I wouldn’t recommend it with a clear heart. While a cheap, Singer is still better than a toy machine which- just no- leave it on the shelf, don’t put it in your cart, back away slowly and save yourself the money for something better.

Now I’ll focus on Singer. Be careful with what you buy. If it’s over 20 years old (secondhand) you’re good. You’re probably going to be happy with your machine as long as you get it serviced once and awhile. They were good quality machines. DO NOT BUY A BIG BOX STORE SINGER! YOU WILL RUN THE SAME RISKS AS A TOY MACHINE. They are budget machines now. Some of them aren’t worth it to get fixed. You’re likely going to run into issues. And don’t believe the advertising when they call their little grey machines “heavy duty”, they are not. They’re just a basic mechanical machine that will only handle heavy materials with gentle care. One small caveat, Singer has started selling *some* machines through sewing machine dealerships only again. Those machines are supposed to be of a little bit higher quality again. Though they haven’t been out long enough yet to see how they’re actually performing in real life situations yet. So just be wary and realize that Singer machines are known to have many issues.

There are some brands that I can’t say much about as we (where I work) do not regularly see them, nor do we sell them. Which does lead to certain bias against those brands.

If you are looking for a decent affordable brand, Brother is probably one of the safer brands. They come out of the same factories as Baby Lock does. So while my store doesn’t deal in Brother, we do in Baby Lock. And I do Like Baby Lock. They have wonderful embroidery machines and they’re much more quiet while embroidering than a Pfaff or Husqvarna machine. Both brands I would consider good. (Also machines that I’m actually familiar with, as we sell them. We also sell Bernina and Janome, which would also fit into that category.) 

So the brands I do know as we sell them where I work is Bernina, Pfaff, Husqvarna, Baby Lock, Janome and Singer (though there’s a grand total of 3 machines in that brand). I do have personal opinions on all 6 of those brands. Though at work we’re supposed to try and stay impartial. Though none of us are. All of the first 5 have their good points to them. (Speaking mostly about computerized machines.) Bernina is among the most expensive and among the most difficult/different to use. I also find that Husqvarna and Pfaff can be a bit difficult to get a handle of, but are decently priced relatively speaking. Janome is easier to use, most geared to quilting, and in my personal opinion expensive in comparison to what you can get in features on other brands. Baby Lock to me seems to be the most intuitive to use if you’re familiar with computers at all, easy to navigate, and has one of the best needle threaders, and again decently priced. 

(I do own a Baby Lock, though I would own a Pfaff as well. Mostly because I’ve sewn the most on Pfaff machines. It’s what I’ve learned on and use at work.)

Well, it’s starting to get late and as much as I could continue the debate of the pros and cons of each machine brand. I DO still have to GO to work tomorrow. So I will leave that for another time.

This kind of spiraled from my original rant, but what have you. I don’t expect anyone to read to the end of this unless there’s some interest in sewing machines. 

[suki-schiffer]

So I thought universities were profiting off students...

I, like most people, have complained about the cost of education and, in part due to the huge increase in the cost of a degree from 1980 to today, thought that universities/colleges were drastically inflating the price of a degree (i.e. that only ~30% of what students paid was covering the cost of equipment and paying professors the rest was going to the university’s top executives). But I got curious about it and decided to do a google search and it turns out that there was a recent report released regarding the average salary of professors at some of the major Canadian universities. My school was on there.

According to this report my full time professors were making ~$180000 a year. To be classified as a full time prof the professor must teach at least three courses each term and at least two terms a year (I say “at least” but I hadn’t heard of any that were teaching more than three). I then took some liberties assuming the number of students per class and placed it at 50, while my smallest class was only 32 I’ve had lectures with over 150 students and online classes (which count as one of the professor’s three per term) with over 300, so I think 50 is fair. I then calculated how much each student would have to pay to cover that professor’s salary and it came out to $600. That doesn’t seem too bad until you take into account that that’s only one professor and none of these students are being double counted (i.e. it’s making the assumption that no student has the same professor twice in the same year). Now, I don’t know about you, but in my 4.5 years as a student I only had five professors for more than one class (two of those professors were the entire Japanese department and I took 6 Japanese classes so...). Anyway, a full time student (like me) took 10 classes a year so assuming you never had a prof for more than one class you’re paying $6000 a year to cover your professors’ salaries.

I suppose that’s still $4000 extra unaccounted for but most of my professors had TAs to help them mark/monitor exams and I know that TAs started at $20/hr and were paid for 20 hours of work per week. Then there’s all the janitors, maintenance, gardeners to be paid. On-campus health-services, school provided tutors, IT department, subscriptions to scientific journals, librarians, all the library books. Then of course the equipment we used, whether it was just paper and a desk, a computer lab, or MRI machines. I know that $400 a year went towards “free” use of public transit, $100 to the student federation, $150 to the gym. I’ve come to the conclusion that they aren’t inflating the price to make a profit, with the way things are priced most of what we paid really was going towards the resources we used.

That being said:

$180000 a year!?! How do you even spend that much money? You could buy a new house, boat, and car every year and still have money left over!

But my university wasn’t a stand alone, there were other schools paying their professors comparable wages and I know that in this capitalist society if my school lowered salaries to $75000 (still about $25k above the Canadian average) the professors would go to other schools and if Canada took some kind of action that lowered the salaries of all professors most of them would probably go to the US or UK.

So in the end I’ve concluded that colleges and universities haven’t inflated the price of education just because they can or just because they’ve become greedy and want a larger profit. They’ve increased the price because their costs have increased and if they want to remain in business they need to make more money. To further accentuate my point, perhaps the professors are the greedy ones if $180k/yr is considered a competitive salary, but all my professors had doctorates, my BA cost $30k before factoring in the interest I’ll pay on my loans, and I know master’s/PhD’s cost even more; and then there’s the fact that when in school you’re also missing out on a decent salary often spending years working part time/minimum wage or having to rely on someone else to support you. The more you charge students the more people with PhDs/professors will need to be paid to make up for all the money they spent/didn’t make while in school, thus increasing professor salary and tuition costs and the cycle repeats.

But it’s outside factors driving this cycle, specifically your average capitalist greed, and I predict that the whole system is going to collapse soon due to recent trends in the job market. 

I’ve recently found that employers, in true capitalist fashion, are getting greedier and don’t want to waste time/money/resources training people, they also don’t want to waste time asking potential employees to demonstrate that they have the knowledge/skills for the job, they want paperwork (degrees, licenses) to show it. We will look beyond the fact that this is a horrible way to determine someone’s abilities (I have the highest academic honours but almost failed stats and neuroscience so while my degree makes me eligible to work in a neuroscience lab as an RA I would require a lot more training than what the employer probably considers ideal). Due to this desire for paperwork entirely new degrees have popped up over the last few years like bricklaying, welding, sewing, administration/reception and in general employers are passing over people with more skill in favour of those with degrees. Years ago you could cook a man a meal and become a chef, show someone your drawings and become and illustrator, fix a man’s computer and be hired as an IT tech. I no longer hear of people getting job offers based on someone seeing their work, the word of a friend, or by performing a task for someone (my grandmother got a job at a bank through simple demonstration of how fast she could calculate percentages and roll coin, my aunt got her job in a beauty boutique simply by walking in with her makeup done and demonstrating her knowledge of popular brands). So now all these employers require degrees and so everyone who can afford to pays to get the required degrees. But now there are too many people with degrees, people that might have never been considered for a job previously due to lack of talent are now being considered because they have a piece of paper that says they have the required knowledge (you can teach someone to draw but that doesn’t mean they are going to be amazing at it) meaning employers have the pick of the litter. They might choose older individuals who have experience or rich individuals who have connections and could therefore intern and get experience at mommy/daddy’s work place, and because there are so many people to choose from they can get away with paying their employees minimum wage. You don’t like it? Tough, you can be replaced with someone willing to take what they can get. But minimum wage isn’t living wage and isn’t enough for a single individual without debts to live on let alone individuals with degrees and the loans to match. So it’s not the universities and it’s not your professors it’s the employers, the top 1% again. The middle class is being abolished, the poor are becoming poorer, all the while that 1% profits off of all of us.

Education is becoming less attainable and the number of jobs you can get without a degree is also on the decline. It’s very possible that there won’t be enough minimum wage, no degree required, jobs to go around soon. On top of this the people are unhappy. No one can live on minimum wage and university grads do have the ability to think, they aren’t so easily transformed into mindless sheep, action will be taken, it’s just a matter of time.

But until then...

This has been a friendly rant from your neighbourhood recent-grad-still-trying-to-get-work-in-my-field-so-I-can-go-to-grad-school who’s drowning in loans, having an existential crisis, and wishes to change the system,

Good night!

[honorablelandlord-a-blog]

Hey everyone... I just need to rant for a little bit, I hope that’s alright. I’ll put it all under read more so you don’t have to read it....

As you all know, we have tried moving to Los Angeles, CA... and that didn’t work out. We came back to Texas only to be stuck in the household of my mother-in-law who pretty much hates me and emotionally abuses Bakura. I hate seeing it.. I hate it here... I can’t even leave the bedroom without feeling like I’m going to get in the way or be in cornered by her mom. She seems pleasant on the outside... but when she’s upset she’ll turn all her stress and anger onto Bakura. Won’t even tell me to my face that she can’t stand me. -snorts.- We are literally STUCK in a bedroom.. all of our things either in storage or taking up every spare space we have in this room. All our crafts, cosplay, and even my brand new sewing machine that I received as a gift from my friend is packed away. Even if we want to pull it out, she’ll complain about it “taking up room.” So we can’t even work on our projects for A-Kon that’s coming up.... only reason we can go to that is because of Volunteering.. you get in free.

We are desperately looking for work... something.. I had to fucking drop out of school just because I can’t afford it. -only had two fucking years left!!- I want out.. I want in our own place to live freely with my wife, my two cats, my little beta fish, and my snake! Is that so bad? For those who care enough to read this... should I just sell Tarot readings on the side? Would anyone purchase them? I don’t even know anymore......

[houstonlocalus-blog]

I Really Don’t Care If the White Race Goes Extinct

The Duggar Family in El Salvador. Photo: Lwp Kommunikáció

Note: The author is whiter than a They Might Be Giants concert.

Like all good beta cucks, I like to open my morning with a trip to David Futrelle’s We Hunted the Mammoth, just to make sure my marching orders to eliminate America are all correct. If cultural Marxism is to succeed, it must be meticulous, after all.

That was all sarcasm, by the by.

I did read one of Futrelle’s fun explorations of the ickier sides of the manosphere last week, though. In a piece called “White people! Save your race by becoming ‘loud, fertile xenophobes,’ loud xenophobe urges,” he chronicles the Twitter rantings of prominent Nazi Paul Hominid. Hominid, like a lot of white supremacist, urges all white women in the world to immediately get pregnant as often as possible if the white race is to be preserved against the “raw power of POC birth rates.”

Birth is a weird fixation for a lot of bigots. You ever hear of the quiverful movement? People like the Duggar family who believe a woman should basically keep having children until her uterus turns inside-out like you’re sewing a sleeve? Explore the foundation of that movement and you will find out it has nothing to do with babies being the glory of God’s creation and everything to do with “WE MUST OUTBREED THE MOOSLEMS OR THEY WILL CONSUME US ALL!”

It’s weaponized reproduction with two aims. The first is to keep women perpetually pregnant, and therefore out of power. We’ll discuss that another day. The second is the preservation of the white race and the Western way of life, as these dinguses understand it at any rate.

I really don’t care if the white race goes extinct.

No, seriously. The idea of humanity descending into that vaguely brown race from that South Park episode fills me with an enormous “meh.” A future without white people or where they are an ethnic minority doesn’t bother me in the slightest.

Whiteness is only an identity for one kind of people: racists. Our entire culture is set up to portray whiteness as the default, so white people don’t generally identify as white like other races do except when asked about it on a form. There’s no need to have someone look at the world through a white lens because white people control nearly all the lenses already.

So when someone becomes fixated on whiteness as a thing in need of preservation, they are doing that in response to a fear of encroachment. I made that cuck joke in the opening paragraph for a reason. People obsessed with the ideas of alphas, betas, and cucks are generally freaking out over the idea of black men putting their peeners in white women. It’s an old racist idea going back well into the early 20th century. The image of black men as animalistic fuck machines who could satisfy the wanton cravings of white women is an ancient dog whistle. It speaks to racism, women as possessions, white fragility, fear of emasculation, etc. etc. ad infinitum.

I’ve got no use for that nonsense.

The recurring theme in this brand of far-right conservatism is a mindless fear of the Other. Blacks as animalistic. Muslims as barbaric. Whatever. Other races are seen as a pollutant in the gene pool.

Know what my daughter thinks of when she considers miscegenation? The 44th president of the United States. Barack Obama is what happens when a white lady from Kansas reproduces with a dude from Kenya and their kid gets partially raised in Indonesia. In other words, an incredibly intelligent and well-read man who also happened to ascend to the highest office in his mother’s country.

It’s really hard to feel fear of the erasure of whiteness when that’s your prime example. Look, white people have done great things. I can celebrate the brilliance of Columbus, the navigator, and decry Columbus, the native people eradicator, at the same time. It’s called nuanced, y’all.

But my daughter’s whiteness is literally the least important thing about her I hope to pass on. I hope she inherits a knowledge of inequality, and what we must do to combat it. I hope she gets the concept of fairness. I hope she realizes that people should be judge not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. None of that requires my grandchildren or my great-grandchildren or my great-great-grandchildren to be mostly or even partially white.

There’s just nothing about being white particularly worth preserving. Ideas and morals are what matters, and those have no color.

I Really Don’t Care If the White Race Goes Extinct this is a repost

[allisonreader]

I should be going to sleep, but instead I’m working on my rant/ramble about different sewing machine brands that I’ve been meaning to get back to for awhile.

[allisonreader]

A breakdown of different sewing machine brands from my perspective; an incomplete and biased list.

I am not going to go into Singer here, as I think I’ve already made my sentiments clear about the brand. Though, who knows, maybe I’ll feel the need to rant about the cheapness and low warranty on them. Because they have terrible warranty and I just cannot suggest that you buy one. We see too many that come in for repair and it just isn’t worth the amount you pay for it.

Though sewing machines are like cars, their prices depreciate with time.

(Also, I’m not going to mention any prices because they won’t be accurate outside of where I live which is Canada. And sale prices can and do vary by store. Depending on what kind of deals each place gets from the companies.)

Though since I started with the mention of Singer, I’ll go into Husqvarna and Pfaff next. All three brands are apart of the same company (SVP) which merged/was bought in the late 1990′s/early 2000′s. This is what caused the most problems among the brands, was this grand reshuffling. 

Husqvarna/Viking is the newest of our main brands that we carry at my work. As such I don’t know as much about them as I do about the other brands. I can’t claim to know the older machines as well, since we’ve only been servicing them since we started selling them. They are decent machines. Not among my favourites. I find that their computerized interfaces are a bit cumbersome to navigate, depending on the machine. The high ends are a little bit better than the low to mid range. That’s mostly because on the high end machines they’re touch screen and a little more direct to get to you different stitches and settings. They do have some fun decorative stitches on their machines. Though the embroidery machines I do have a bit of an issue with. The stitch quality can be hit as miss at times and in general isn’t as nice as other brands. The biggest problem I have with their embroidery machines though, is how loud they are. When embroidering the machines make an absolute racket. They sound like a galloping horse. Which might be a slight exaggeration, but only just. It is not a machine you want to listen to if you’re sensitive to sound at all, like I tend to be.

It is something that is shared with the Pfaff embroidery machines. Though I do find that in general the Pfaff embroidery machines tend to have better stitch quality in embroidery, less difficulties. I also find their computerized machines in the low to mid range are easier to navigate then the Husqvarna. Though I also do have a clear bias to Pfaff because it is the brand I have used the most and have learned to sew on. Almost all modern Pfaff have a built in walking foot which they call an IDT (integrated duel feed). Which works with the feed dogs of the machine to help keep fabric from shifting. Which is an extremely nice feature to have when it’s not a clunky accessory. I feel like I should have so much more to say about Pfaff, as it’s the brand of machine that I do my alterations on at work, and I do love it and the creative stitches they have on their higher end machines, but I’m just kind of blanking. Oh, one nice thing about Pfaff is that all their presser feet; for the most part, fit almost all of their machines the same, which is more than I can say for some brands (cough, Janome, cough). Though Pfaff (and Bernina) have too many different styles of bobbins. Which is annoying. So depending on the machine, if you up grade, you might have to change bobbin styles. As Pfaff currently has four different bobbin styles.

Janome. Boy do I have a beef with Janome. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with their machines. They’re fine, but they’re very much geared towards quilters (which I am not). I have found their machines over priced for the features that they have (for many years already in comparison to other brands). Though some of that; on some of their machines, could be made up for with the accessories that their machines come with. Part of my dislike/near distain for Janome does not come from them machines themselves, but the fact that customer service from the company can be A STRUGGLE at times. They’re just not my favourite company to work with and dealing with warranty issues with them, can sometimes be like pulling teeth. Not to say that there aren’t issues with other companies, there definitely is, but for certain things, Janome makes me want to pull out my hair the most, in general. Anyways, back to their actual machines, before I start ranting about the company again. Honestly, their machines can be fairly easy to use. Especially their embroidery machines. They have symbols that are easy to understand. Which makes them a bit easier to use than a Pfaff, Husqvarna, or Bernina. All which take a bit more thought to use (particularly the Bernina.) I’m also not a fan that their newest top end machines are flat beds and don’t have free arms. I mean, you don’t absolutely need a free arm, but they do make certain sewing projects easier. (Again, coming from someone who mostly sews garments and mending garments.) They’re not bad for noise, as they certainly aren’t as loud/clackety as the Pfaff and Husqvarna. They also don’t have as fun of stitches as the Pfaff and Husqvarna. Which for most people isn’t that big of a deal, but I like the fun, extra wide stitches that you can get on other machines. I’m not even going to talk about Janome's marketing, where they have machines that you can only get online or in certain countries, which is frustrating to deal with at times. Anyway, the take away you should get from Janome is that they are a good quality sewing machine that will last you well, but has questionable warranty issues when they pop up on the rare occasion. The machines are reliable, if a bit plain and pricey at times for what you’re getting. I could go into more, but I won’t.

Baby Lock, my beloved. (Baby Lock is their own brand, not under an umbrella of another.) Definitely among my favourite brands. They have some of the quietest machines. Have some of the best needle threaders, do some of the nicest buttonholes and lettering, AND personally, has some of the best warranty service (speaking from experience). Again, a bit biased as I OWN a Baby Lock sewing and embroidery machine. I also find that they are among the easiest to use. All their symbols make sense for the most part. Their layout on the machine’s screens makes sense and it gives some of the easiest and most built in editing options for embroidery. Even on the entry level embroidery machines they give you a level of control that you don’t get on most other brands. Basically, if you know how to work a computer, you’ll easily be able to work a computerized Baby Lock. Though they’re not generally the most heavy duty machine out there. Brother also comes out of the same factory as them, so they’re very similar at times, though I really can’t say much about Brother machines as I don’t typically deal with them. Baby Lock also has some of the best sergers. They are the company that first came out with a domestic serger. Their sergers are among the easiest to thread. Because if you know anything about sergers, it’s that those loopers can be a struggle to thread, particularly the lower looper. Baby Lock has two ways of dealing with that. The first is on their most basic serger where the front of the machine opens all the way up so you can easily get to all the points that you have to thread. On their models up from that, they thread with a puff of air. It’s only been in the last few years since their patten on their air threading tech has been up, so now the other brands have it as well, but Baby Lock is still the nicest.

Bernina is in many ways the most expensive brand. You’re on average going to pay at least twice as much for any additional accessories in comparison to the other brands, and probably three times as much for the bobbins. Service on them is more expensive too, as they are extremely complex machines (the higher end ones). They are the Cadillac of sewing machine brands. They are also the most different in computer layout for their machines, so it takes thinking about maneuvering about the screen a little bit more. Their stitch quality is absolutely wonderful and those machines will handle pretty much all of your thick projects like butter. There truly is a quality of machine that is worth the price, if you’re able to handle the price. Because they are so expensive though; in our store, we only carry a couple of the most popular models. Which we sell a lot of to Hutterites, who do A LOT of sewing, as the mainly make all their own clothes. Otherwise I don’t have much more to say about them. Other than they do have a neat embroidery feature where you can place an embroidery design part way out of the hoop on the screen, and it will only sew the part that is in the hoop.

I’m going to leave this there. I’m sure there’s a bunch more that I could of said, but I wasn’t going to go into specific models of each brand. So there is my fairly long ramble about the different sewing machine brands. Just my personal, very biased opinions on the different brands. Which is highly subjective as (to bring up the car comparison again) a sewing machine is like a car, just because one person likes driving a Volvo, doesn’t mean the next person will. Personal preference is a huge thing with the machines.