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#boring. cheap. ugly.
facesbehindglass · 5 months
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About
Casual doll collector. I barely know what I'm doing.
I want to collect at least 1 of each fashion doll brand. Especially early 2000's ones. There's plenty so I don't count knockoffs (unless they're really interesting....)
If you ever look for info like
-do X doll clothes fit Y doll
-measurements
-doll id (try google lens first tho!)
-size comparisons
then feel free to poke me after checking the list below (cause you'll know what dolls I got)
If there are any dolls you find interesting and aren't on the list, share, I wanna see :3
(Also, personal posts are tagged as #rustyspots)
✓ Owned
🔜Will arrive soon
👁️‍🗨️ Have my eyes on them
Checklist:
Arabian Friends
✓ Barbie
✓ The Beatrix Girls
👁️‍🗨️Beauty Cuties
✓ BeKind Dolls
Be Fashion Academy
✓ BFF Crybabies
✓ Boxy Girls
👁️‍🗨️Bratz
✓ Bratz (but the tall ones lol)
✓ Bratzillaz
👁️‍🗨️Bratz Kidz
👁️‍🗨️ Bright Fairy Friends
👁️‍🗨️ Candyloks
Catalina
Catwalk Kitties
✓ Cave Club
✓ Creatable World
Crush: Urban Energy
✓ Cutie Pops
Dawn
👁️‍🗨️DC Super Hero Girls
✓ Decora Girlz
Defa Lucy
✓ Disney Descendants
✓ Diva Starz
✓ Dream Ella Extra Iconic Mini
✓ Dream Seekers
✓ Enchantimals
👁️‍🗨️Ever After High
✓ FailFix
Fairy Tale High
✓ Famosa Club Hello Kitty
✓ Fidgie Friends
✓ Flavas
✓ Freckles & Friends
👁️‍🗨️The Fresh Dolls
Fulla
Glitzeez ?
👁️‍🗨️ Glossy Bossy
👁️‍🗨️ Glo-Up girls
✓ Gorjuss
Gorgeous Creatures
✓ Hairdorables
👁️‍🗨️ Hairdorables Hairmazing
👁️‍🗨️ Hello Kitty and Friends
✓ Hi Glamm
iBesties (?)
Juku Couture
Just Grrls
👁️‍🗨️Kawaii Crush
👁️‍🗨️ Kindi Kids
Kiyaa
👁️‍🗨️ Kurhn
👁️‍🗨️ Kuu Kuu Harajuku
✓ Lalaloopsy
✓ Lammily
✓ La Dee Da
✓ Licca
👁️‍🗨️Little Bebops
👁️‍🗨️Liv
✓ Locksies
✓ LOL OMG
✓ LOL OMG Fierce
✓ LOL Tweens
✓ Lottie
👁️‍🗨️LPS Blythe
LULUPOP
✓ Magic Mixies Pixlings
👁️‍🗨️Mermaid High
✓ Mermaze Mermaidz
👁️‍🗨️Mia by Hello Kitty
MimiWorld
Miss Scouby
Mixis
MomokoDOLL
✓ Monster High Frightfully Tall
✓ Monster High G1 (LilSis, Medium, BigSis)
✓ Monster High G2
✓ Monster High G3
👁️‍🗨️Moxie Girls
👁️‍🗨️Moxie Teenz
👁️‍🗨️Myscene (any...)
✓ Myscene Fab Faces
Mystikats
Mystixx
✓ My Little Pony Equestria Girls
✓ Na! Na! Na! Surprise
Na! Na! Na! Surprise Teens
Naija Princess
✓ Nebulous Stars
✓ Novi Stars
✓ Once Upon A Zombie
Peteena
✓ Pinkie Cooper
✓ Piny Doll (PinyPon)
Pippa
Pixie Doodles
✓ Power Puff Girls Z
Precure Bandai (?)
👁️‍🗨️Prettie Girls Tween Scene
✓ Project Mc²
✓ Queens of Africa
✓ Rainbow High
✓ Rainbow High Junior
✓ Rainbow High My Runway Friend
✓ Regal Academy
Ruruko
Secret Jouju
✓ Shadow High
✓ Shibajuku Girls
👁️‍🗨️Shopkins Shoppies
✓ Sindy (Hasbro)
👁️‍🗨️Sindy (Pedigree)
✓ Snapstars
✓ Star Darlings
Starletz
✓ Steffi Love
👁️‍🗨️Strawberry Shortcake
Struts
Style Bae
Stylistaz
Sunny Day (?)
✓ Sweetyz
✓ Tattoo Divas
Trollz
Twilight Teens
👁️‍🗨️Unique Eyes
We Teens
✓ What's Her Face
Wild Childz (?)
✓ Wild Hearts Crew
✓ WWE Superstars Wrestling
Vibe Girls
✓ VIP Hair Academy
Vi and Va
Yue Sai Wa Wa
👁️‍🗨️Yummi-Land
Zeenie Dollz
👁️‍🗨️Zombie Girls
Side quest- Mini dolls? Chibi or kid-shaped
👁️‍🗨️Best Furry Friends
Ddung
👁️‍🗨️Lady Lovely Locks
✓ Sparkle Girlz Little Sparkles
Dolls (or their remains) that are pretty much impossible to get but one can hope ;w;
-Country Kuttiez
-Driks
-LaTeenaz
-Trashion Alley
"Duplicates" I want anyway cause they're my grails:
-target exclusive Pinkie Pie EG
-failfix, the blondie one cuz shes smoler than the rest
-Novi Stars Doe A Deer
-Monster High Isi Dawndancer
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cryptidlark · 9 days
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went to the bookstore today to get the new leigh bardugo but more importantly I’ve now seen the worst cover design for wuthering heights in my entire life. it’s just a word cloud. it has a spooky font. out of an entire assortment of 19th century women’s literature, it’s the only one in a garish pink. all of these design elements come together on this vinyl abomination that doesn’t even feel good to hold. this doesn’t look like beloved classic wuthering heights this looks like one of those tacky gender essentialist bibles geared toward teen girls
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warm-tap-water · 8 months
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things i have developed a recent appreciation for:
jam
bread
architecture
ponds
knitting
herbs
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six-of-ravens · 7 months
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ok so, the new rug is smaller than I expected (of course I didn't measure I just bought it on a whim lmao) but it's in nicer condition and I have more room to take my shoes off without tracking mud into the apartment now.
also, it's short enough that I can open the door without having to push the mat out of the way, wooo
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sodrippy · 2 years
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why are shows STILL doing that annoying cheap thing where the lead couple get together at the end of the season and like 5 minutes into the first episode of the following season theyre all with the stagnating and the brewing jealousy or resentment like. sorry none of you bitchass writers have ever had a successful healthy relationship but figure it the fuck out, damn
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I have had some alcohol and now all language skills are going out the window and yet, and fucking YET
I'm thinking about museum stuff again
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pikslasrce · 2 years
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tfw the kitchen remodeling was ur dads idea and he has no taste and he made all the decisions himself but didnt think everything through so the kitchen wont even look like he wants it to look and its just plain ugly and impractical
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bisexualhobi · 2 years
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Have you seen the new teasers?
i did. i don't like them
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writers-potion · 3 months
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Said is dead, and so are some other words that we writers tend to overuse. Here's a brief list to aid your brain:
01. "VERY" ☆★⋆⭒˚.⋆
Very angry -> Furious
Very beautiful -> Gorgeous
Very bog -> Massive
Very boring -> Dull
Very poor -> Destitute
Very cheap -> Stingy
Very clean -> Spotless
Very difficult -> Arduous
Very dry -> Arid
Very quick -> Rapid
Very strong -> Forceful
Very ugly -> Hideous
Very calm -> Serene
Very huge -> Colossal
Very small -> Petite
02. "WHISPERED" 🤫
Murmurd
Mumbled
Muttered
Breathed
Sighed
Hissed
Mouthed
Susurrated
Intoned
Purred
Said in an undertone
Hinted
Said low
Said in hushed tones
Gasped
03. "BAD" 😈
Corrupt
Sinful
Depraved
Contaminated
Tainted
Irascible
Atrocious
Sinister
Snide
Deplorable
Detestable
Execrable
Ghastly
Noxious
Substandard
Despicable
Contemptible
Foul, rank, faulty
04. "BEAUTIFUL" 🦋
Dazzling
Splendid
Magnificent
Aesthetic
Delicate
Glorious
Stunning
Heavenly
Resplendent
Radiant
Glowing
Blooming
Sparkling
05. "BEGIN" ▶️
Open
Launch
Initite
Commence
Inaugurate
Originate
06. "BIG" ⚡
Immense
Gigantic
Vast
Gargantuan
Sizable
Grand
Mammoth
Astronomical
Titanic
Mountainous
If you like my blog, buy me a coffee! ☕
🖱️References
https://www.pinterest.com/pin/2603712279594924/
https://www.pinterest.com/pin/81627811987512761/
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be-good-to-bugs · 1 year
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its hard to draw >_<
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x-brik-x · 1 year
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I'm seeing a lot of people say that punk fashion is expensive and inaccessible, which is very wrong. here is a list of some ways you can make punk fashion easier, cheaper and more accessible for you, since that's... kinda the whole point.
others are encouraged to add onto this!! (just don't recommend corporations like amazon. not cool.)
1. patches!! you don't need to buy them. DIY patches are not ugly or boring. in fact, they are encouraged here!! DIY, in my opinion, is always the best thing to do when it is an option and is safe to do so.
2. speaking of DIY, spikes!! you can make them!!
cut the top and bottom off of an empty can. cut down the middle of the cylinder and flatten it, so it's just a flat rectangle of metal.
cut out a shape that is kind of a third of a circle, but around 3/4 of the curved edge is taken up by triangle shapes. (I'm not very good at describing, so here's a badly drawn picture)
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roll it into a cone, leaving the 4 triangles sticking out at the bottom. this bit is optional, but you can fill it with hot glue to make it more sturdy, just be careful touching the hot metal. I tend to hold the cone by one of the triangles with a bit of fabric wrapped around my fingers for this bit. cut 4 small holes in your fabric in this kind of shape:
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and put the spiky bits of triangle through the holes. fold the triangles in on themselves to secure the spike in place. boom. spike obtained. this is one I made and attached to a little piece of fabric to test this method out:
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3. battle vests!! (like the base jackets). the best places to buy these are charity shops and second hand websites in my opinion, but if anyone else knows any better options, please reblog with those!!
a good trick I find works well on eBay is to filter search results to your country (or state? can you do that in the US? idk) so that a: fast delivery because local, and b: all the sellers of everything that shows up are in YOUR TIME ZONE.
why is this important? when people sell something for really cheap, it goes FAST. check eBay at like, 2am or something. all the scalpers in your area are asleep. grab the cheap stuff while they can't.
4. sewing!! want patches, but can't sew for whatever reason? I've heard of a lot of people with joint conditions like arthritis complain about the inaccessibility of patch stuff, and that does sound extremely annoying, however:
safety pins!! while they are still a little fiddly, they're much less work so you don't have to fiddle about for long. if you can, you could even ask a friend to help, since it doesn't take long at all I'm sure someone will be willing to help out!! (I know I would, but that's just me, and I love this kind of thing). safety pins on clothes are also widely considered to be a symbol of solidarity, so if anything, you're adding some extra love and meaning to your patch pants/battle jacket.
if that's still too fiddly, fabric glue is always an option. unfortunately this means you won't be able to remove/reposition patches, at least without leaving a massive patch of residue, but if you're ok with that then fabric glue is probably your best bet.
for people who prefer sewing: as for where to get the thread, I've heard a lot of people recommending dental floss, as it's apparently much cheaper and works just as well. I haven't tried this myself so can't confirm that, but I thought I'd share it regardless.
5. where to get fabric!! old clothes. rip em up. you don't need any kind of fancy fabric from the craft store. my patches are made of old jeans that I grew out of.
don't have any old clothes and you don't want to waste any good ones? I'm not sure about other countries, but in the UK, as long as you're not on private property (trespassing), dumpster diving is perfectly legal.
I definitely ;) do NOT encourage ;) trespassing rich people's land ;) to steal from their dumpsters ;)
or tbh it doesn't matter too much how rich the person is, since it's all going to landfill anyway. if it's in the bin, it's free game, but you didn't hear that from me. ;)
please add onto this where you can!! and if I missed something or got anything wrong, add that on too!!
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killerlookz · 1 day
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Olive Green Couch | Spencer Reid
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description: when your best friend drags you to a party to meet a boy she's been fawning over, you find yourself completely bored and unimpressed- good thing you've stumbled upon a strikingly handsome (yet awkward) young graduate student named Spencer who seems equally as unhappy to be there to share your misery with.
pairing: grad school! spencer reid x f! reader
content: uhh mostly fluff, drinking, reader is described as wearing a mini skirt and wearing high heels.
word count: 4,242
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If I have to hear one more Weezer song I'm going to be sick. You think as the slow drums of Undone pour out over an all too expensive speaker system for a frat house.
The MIT frats were nothing like you experienced before, they were- for lack of a better term- a complete and utter sausage party. You can't remember the last time you'd seen this many men in a single room. If you weren't so bored maybe you would appreciate this as a reprieve from the usual maintaining "ratio" of the state school frat parties you'd been to. But even now you'd prefer that if it meant you wouldn't have to deal with another sloppily drunk man explaining the plot of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy to you. Rich, pretentious, too smart for his own good MIT frat guy or dude-bro, alpha male, business major state school frat guy- it didn't matter; they were the same side of the same misogynistic coin.
You look down at the shot-glass sized solo cup in your hand, staring at the clear liquid inside. Maybe just one more shot and you'd finally start to enjoy the state you were in. You hoped maybe six shots would be the perfect number of drunk to enjoy yourself. You screw your eyes shut and throw back your head as you lift the cup to your mouth. The cheap vodka burns the second it touches your tongue, and you wince as you feel it travel down your throat and to your stomach. Your body shivers involuntarily as the warmth in your belly grows.
You face forward again, looking across the living room for your best friend- the one who dragged you here in the first place. You had suggested bar hopping or trying to get into a club, you didn't buy her a fake ID for no reason. But she insisted on coming here instead. Here- to this sweaty house filled with... well... dorks. She came here looking for some guy- Michael... Matthew... Miles.... shit, you couldn't remember. It didn't matter, you were here now, and she had ditched you to fend for yourself.
You take a step forward and all the alcohol you had drank prior seems to hit you a once, "Woah" You can't help but say out-loud as you catch your balance and wait for the room to stop spinning.
You take a few more wobbly steps forward before acclimating to your new, tipsy state. You make your way through the dimly lit house, trying to find your friend amongst the crowd and rowdy conversations. Observing the bodies that populated the house you suddenly felt insecure, and insanely overdressed- why was everyone wearing jeans and a t-shirt? Maybe a mini skirt was the wrong choice for tonight.
You make your way to a back room of the house, occupied by maybe only 10 people by your inebriated brain's estimate. There's an ugly looking olive green couch in the middle of the room- it' had obviously been through a lot but and you hated to imagine what had happened on that couch over the years, but right now it looked like the most comfortable thing in the world. You walk over and plop yourself over onto the couch, the cushions having a lot less give than you expected.
The beginning riff of Someday by The Strokes plays just outside of the room, and you groan- turning to the guy who you had just realized was sitting next to you.
"Do you know who's Dj-ing this fucking thing- can you tell them to play some Britney or something?" The words fall off your tongue, sloppily.
The boy sitting next to you turns to look at you, a confused look drawn upon his face, "Huh- me?"
Shit. He's kind of cute- In a dorky sort of way. His brown hair is perfectly unkempt, and small curls form at the back of his neck. His jawline is sharp, and his hollow cheeks accentuate his prominent cheek bones. His eyes are dark, and he looks a like he hasn't slept in years- you figured with the workload MIT students probably have- it would make sense if he actually hadn't slept since getting there. Truth be told, all things combined he looked a little sickly- he was obviously lanky maybe scrawny was a better word- his button up shirt seemed a little ill-fitted for his body, and his tie poorly tied. Still- you couldn't help but notice he was hot. The first hot guy you'd seen all night.
"Yes, you, pretty boy." You smirk.
His face reads as even more confused upon your clarification.
"Oh um," He looks down at the half-drunken beer that sits between his legs, shakes his head before looking back up at you, "I-uh I don't know the DJ, and I- um, also don't know who Britney is." He responds, a small nervous tremble in his voice.
"Spears?" You let out a small laugh, "You know like- Hit Me Baby One More Time." You half sing.
"Oh-" He looks off to the side, "No" he faces you again.
"Go figure," You scoff, still, keeping a smile on your face. "Say- are you in this frat?"
He shakes his head, "Oh- no, I'm a grad student."
"A grad student?" You respond, your eyes widen in shock no shot the man you were looking at right now was any older than you. "How old are you?"
"21" He responds, almost nonchalantly- like it wasn't some insane feat. "Well," He clarifies, "I'm actually in my third graduate program, I already have a PhD in mathematics and chemistry, from Cal Tech. I'm working on my engineering one now."
"Jesus," You smile, "So what, you're like some sort of genius, huh?"
"Well, I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified- but I do have an IQ of 187, and an eidetic memory, and can read twenty thousand words per-minute."
You stare at him in awe for a moment, "So, a you are a genius?"
He gives you a small smile in response, "Yeah- I guess." He nods.
You're suddenly intrigued, only twenty-one years old and already a doctor twice over.
"So what brings you here Doctor...uh..."
"Reid," He nods and presses his lips into a line. "Oh! But, don't call me doctor you can call me Spencer."
"Well then, what brings you here, Spencer?" You correct yourself with a smile.
"My friend- uh he wanted me to come with him, he's meeting some girl here and he didn't want to go alone. I kind of got dragged along."
"Well," You grin, "It must be fate that we're here together on this ugly green couch, because if you could believe it- I'm here for the exact same reason except my friend- she's uh, meeting a guy here."
Spencer takes a small sip of the beer he had been holding, wincing as the liquid touched his lips. You figured he probably wasn't much of a drinker, he probably had things much more important on his plate than getting drunk and partying.
"Not much of a partier?" You ask to confirm your suspicions.
"Mhh," Spencer hums, mouth still full of beer, he shuts his eyes tight as he swallows thickly. "No." He shakes his head violently. "What gave it away?"
"Oh!" You bite your lip... "Nothing!" You say, innocently, voice steeped in sarcasm.
"It's okay," He laughs, "I know I look like a dork."
His laugh is infectious, and you can't help but smile in response. And Damn- he's really cute.
"Oh! Don't say that," You swat your hand at him, "I'm sure you get tons of ladies."
Spencer tilts his head to one side, in obvious disbelief of what you just said,
"I don't really appreciate the sarcasm," He says, his eyes narrowing at you.
"Sarcasm?" You pout, "No- I mean it Spencer, what you're like a genius. And I mean- you're not bad to look at," You bite your lip, "Not at all."
Spencer shook his head, "I was a child prodigy in a Las Vegas public school, and until now, I've always been way younger than everyone in college- my experience with girls is practically in the negatives."
"Oooh!" You smirk, "Vegas," You raise an eyebrow.
"Mhm," He takes another sip of his beer, his face more relaxed this time.
"You think I'd make a good showgirl?" You wink
"Oh- um," Spencer is suddenly blinking rapidly as his head scans you up and down. You can't help but feel a little bad at the way you have him flustered,
"I'm kidding! You don't have to answer that." You reassure. "Negative experience with girls, hm?"
"Yeah- I-uh, I haven't even had my first kiss yet." He says, looking down at his lap, refusing to make eye contact with you.
"No?" You say, still shocked, even given his prior explanations of his experiences with women, "Well..." You start, pausing for a moment, "If you ever want that to change let me know." Maybe that last part was meant to be a joke, but truth is you kind of really hoped he said yes, right there, right now.
"What?" He looks back up at you, eyebrows furrowed, "No- I don't need a pity kiss. I don't even know who you are."
"It is not a pity kiss, and I'm y/n, I go to UMASS, the Boston campus- like 15 minutes away. I'm 20, and uhhh... Well, the rest you can find out later." You wink, "Now you know me!" You smile, perking up from your spot on the couch.
"Well- uh. Nice to meet you y/n" He gives you an awkward tight lipped smile. "Are you- um- enjoying your night."
"God no," You scoff. "Does that make two of us?"
Spencer nods, side moving his eyes to look around the room. It had gotten significantly more crowded since you'd came in here, you hadn't noticed, you'd been too focused on getting to know Spencer that you kind of forgot you were at a party to begin with. It didn't seem to matter now anyway, you were intrigued beyond belief and wanted to know more about Dr. Reid.
"So, why'd you leave Caltech? The weather is certainly a lot nicer than it is here," Your body physically recoils at the thought of having to go back outside to the brisk New England fall after the party was over.
Spencer shrugged, "You can only get so many degrees at one place before you need a change of scenery. I've been at CalTech since I was like- fourteen."
"Fourteen?" Your eyes widen, thinking about what you were like at fourteen. You certainly weren't CalTech material, that's for sure. "When did you graduate high school?"
"1993," He smiles and nods, "Twelve years old"
Spencer had a charming humility about him, he was the smartest person you'd ever met but he spoke in a way that made it feel like it was every day that someone could graduate high school at 12 and have two PhDs by 21.
"What do you plan on doing after college with that pretty head of yours?" You ask, your slightly intoxicated brain unable to stop you from instinctively reaching out and fluffing his hair. Spencer's eyes flick up towards your hand and he gives you an awkward smile paired with a small laugh.
"Well- I uhh... I've been in contact with this guy- well from the FBI, the BAU... Behavioral Analysis Unit. We came into contact after my second dissertation, he was shocked at how young I was, having done so much- he suggested I come to the academy when I was done with this one." Spencer explained, he talked in a way that made him seem unsure of himself, like he, himself didn't fully understand how it happened.
"God," You muse, "The fucking FBI? Could you get any cooler?"
"You know," Spencer remarks, "I think that's the first time anyone has ever used to word "cool" to describe me." The tone in his voice is light, it's clear he's happy about that fact, but you can't help but feel your heart break at the statement.
"Cool even sounds like a little bit of an understatement to me. But you know... I think I'm a little too intoxicated right now to think of a synonym, so cool it is!"
"Do you have any plans for after college?" Spencer asks, nervously running a finger around the rim of the glass in his lap.
"Nothing as cool as the FBI," You shrug, "Actually, nothing concrete, really. Has me feeling a little inadequate in a room full of geniuses."
"Oh trust me," Spencer scans his head around the room, "Not all of these guys are geniuses."
"Well- they're complete nerds at the very least." You giggle.
"I think I qualify as a nerd too." Spencer smiles back.
"Oh you definitely do," You say, scooting closer to him, taking the beer glass out of his hand, "But you haven't tried to talk down to me about some movie everyone's seen, or some album everyone's heard like I'm some dumb idiot bimbo yet." You huff, finishing what was left of the liquid in the glass with a single gulp. You slam the cup down on the coffee table in front of you, "And even if I was a dumb idiot bimbo- what makes them think I'd care about whatever they'd have to say about OK Computer. We've all listened to Karma Police, big deal!" You realize you're getting a little heated over this and cut yourself off, "Anyways," You smile, "What I mean is you don't seem like some self important loser."
"Oh," Spencer furrows his eyebrows, "Thank...you?"
"Do you want to get out of here?"
"Y-Yeah, Yeah we can go." Spencer nods.
You stand up from the couch, wobbling a little bit as your legs lift you up. The room, is blurry, for a moment all you can see are vague blobs of color instead of people. You shut your eyes tight, blinking them open to fix your blurry vision. You glance over toward Spencer, who's grabbing a tan suit jacket that had been draped over the back of the couch. He slinks the jacket on over his thin frame.
"You alright?" He asks, concern in his eyes. He must have been able to read the drunk all over your face.
"Y-Yeah I'm fine, lets go," You nod, reassuringly. You could handle your liquor, besides you hadn't drank that much tonight.
The two of you head for the door, wherever it is. Spencer was leading the way, and you hoped he had a better sense of direction than you did. The music is suddenly a lot louder as you exit the room you were in, and you suddenly feel a lot drunker. The sudden change in feeling causes you to stumble a little, bumping Spencer in the back. High heels and alcohol were never a good mix.
"Oh- hey," Spencer stops suddenly, turning around to smile at you, "Are you sure you're alright?"
You look around the room, at the hoard of people, the room thick with a combination of weed and cigarette smoke. You've never felt so lost in your life when did it get so crowded in here? The obnoxious yelling of frat guys mixed with the music turned to a volume you were sure would get the cops to show up is absolutely ear-splitting.
"Can you hold my hand?" You ask Spencer, needing his guidance more than you realized.
"Uh, yeah, yeah." He nods. You reach your hand out for Spencer to grab, and it takes him a few times to correctly slot his fingers between yours. You smile a little, watching him try to figure out the perfect hand-holding position. He couldn't be more pathetic if he tried- it was kind of adorable.
Spencer's hand is warm, a little sweaty against your palm. But his grip is tight and reassuring as the two of you walk the rest of the way out of the house.
As soon as the front door opens a brisk wind hits you, nipping at your exposed flesh. Goosebumps already dot up and down your skin, the only warmth you feel is Spencer's hand wrapped around yours, and you knew that warm sensation would end as soon as his hand got cold too.
With a little hesitance, you step outside to brave the cold. Your heels click as you carefully make your way down the concrete steps in front of the house. You stare down at your feat as you make each movement, fearing accidentally rolling your ankle or falling. You'd probably take end up Spencer down with you.
"Hmm," Spencer hums, noticing your trepidation, "Here," Spencer untwines his hand from yours and places an arm around your back, reaching to your other side, but barely touches your other arm, just holds firm enough for you not to fall.
You reach the bottom of the stairs, thankful for Spencer's help,
"You don't have to hold me so far away you know, you can pull me a little closer." You turn your head to look at him, "I mean it is kind of chilly out."
"Oh-uh," Spencer's arm pulls to hold you just a little bit closer, "Better?" His grip is still pretty weak around you, and you sigh.
"You know, Spence, I'm still pretty cold." You frown, staring down the suit jacket he was wearing.
"Do you want to go back inside? I didn't even have a full beer the entire time I was there- I can go get my car real quick and drive you home if you want. It's only a block or so away." Spencer responds, his voice quick, and nervous- it was obvious he was eager to solve the problem of you being so cold.
"No," You laugh, shaking your head, "I'm cold is kind of girl-code for, you should give me your jacket."
"Oh!" Spencer laughs, "Oh- I'm sorry, yeah- here, here have it." Spencer speaks earnestly as he slips the jacket off of his shoulders. He shivers as the loss of the fabric leaves him in only a thin button up and you can't help but feel a little bad for asking him to give it to you. But he hands you the jacket with a smile on his face, which lingers even after you put it on. It provides a marginal amount more of warmth than what you felt prior.
"Better?" Spencer asks.
"Mhm," You nod, "Thank you."
Spencer only gives you a tight lipped smile and a nod in response.
"So," Spencer starts as the two of you begin walking, his hand slipping into yours almost instinctually, it catches you a little off guard, and you feel your cheeks run hot at the gesture. "Where are you headed?"
"Oh- uh, back to Boston I guess," You squint your eyes, thinking, "I usually take the bus, the stop is up that way." You point up ahead in front of you.
"Let me go with you," Spencer says quickly, "I mean- not to your place, but let me ride the bus with you, I don't want you going by yourself."
"Why not? I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself." You retort, trying to hide the fact that secretly, butterflies are growing in your stomach at his eagerness to take care of you.
"I just want to make sure you get home okay." His hand grips yours tighter.
"Okay," A small smile draws at your lips, you don't want to fight him on it anymore, truth was you'd love nothing more than to spend a little bit more time with him, even if it was a short bus ride.
The streets of the city are utterly dead, not a sound to be heard except the whistling of the wind and collision of your high heels and the pavement. You wonder what time it even is, how long had you even spent at that stupid party?
The bus is just as empty as the rest of the city. When it arrives, nobody but you and Spencer are on, the two of you sitting patiently under the bright fluorescent lights for the bus to move. The lights are straining on your eyes, and the horrendously carpet-patterned seats might hurt your eyes even worse.
"What stop do you get off at?" Spencer asks, being the one sitting the closest to the button to let the driver know when it's your stop.
"University Drive."
The lights dim as the bus driver pulls away from the stop you'd been picked up at, and you're able to relax your eyes once more. You let your eyes relax until all of a sudden they're closed and then-
"Hey," You feel your head being jerked, "We're here."
"Hmm?" You grumble, slowly opening your eyes.
Your stomach drops, and you're absolutely mortified to see your head is rested on Spencer's shoulder. You whip your head off from where it laid and quickly stand up from the seat.
The bus ride was fifteen minutes, you couldn't believe you fell asleep. Much less fell asleep on some guy you barely knew. You're a mess of worry as you exit the bus, thinking about how awkward you probably made Spencer feel. You're so caught up in your thoughts you barely notice how cold it is as you step outside.
"Hey, look, I'm right over there." You say, pointing to the large dorm building behind you.
"I'll walk you to the door." He smiles, and your panic immediately slides away.
You walk with your head down, looking intently at the sidewalk under you as you head forward to your building, trying your best to keep in a straight line. You had to admit, you were pretty upset your time with Spencer would be ending in just a few short minutes from now. You tried to scheme up a plan to get Spencer to stay longer, but no ideas would stick to your brain. You sigh, crossing your arms across your chest as you approach the front door.
You whip around to look at Spencer who's trailing just a few inches behind you.
"Well," You sigh, "I guess this is it." You pull your mouth to one side in a small pout.
"Yeah- I-uh, I guess so," He shrugs, "I had a nice time tonight, thanks for, making my first party experience a lot better than i was expecting." Spencer's hands are shoved into his pocket, and he rocks back and forth while he talks, unsure of himself as his eyes dart all around you.
"Of course," You grin, letting your hands drop down at your sides, "Say," You cut yourself off, and shove your hands into the pocket of Spencer's coat, fishing, until you find what you were hoping for. You pull out a pen from one of the coat pockets, and grab Spencer's hand. "I want to see you again before you become some big tough FBI agent." You smile, scrawling the digits of your phone number on the back of his hand. "Call me sometime?" You hold his hand up for an extra moment, before letting it drop back down.
"Mmmhm, yeah," Spencer bobs his head up and down vigorously.
"Okay, good. Goodnight Spencer," You smile, giving him a small wave.
"Goodnight y/n" He smiles back, as the two of you turn around to go your separate ways.
You notice as you turn back around that you're still wearing Spencer's jacket, part of you has the urge to call out to him to give it back, the other part of you wants to keep it- if he wants to get it back, he'll have to come see you again.
"Wait! Y/n!" You hear Spencer from just behind you. You frown a little, thinking your plan to keep Spencer's jacket had been foiled and he was calling to get it back from you.
"Yeah?" You whip your head back around.
"Did you mean it when you said to let you know if I wanted to have my first kiss- and that you'd change that I've never um-"
"Uhh..huh," You responded, a little to eager as an uncontrollable smile began to tug at the ends of your lips, "Are you asking me to kiss you Spencer?"
"Maybe," His voice breaks, unable to look you directly in the eyes.
You raise one eyebrow, "Maybe?"
"Ahem. Uh- I mean- yes."
Before you know it, you're tugging at his tie, pulling him close to you. Your lips are on his, just a peck at first, Spencer is hesitant. He is unsure of what to do with any part of his body, his lips move carefully, his hands unsure of just where they should be, they rest on your hips- before they move right under your shoulders. You make the decision to tilt your head and deepen the kiss. Spencer's lips are soft with inexperience, he has absolutely no clue what he's doing, yet you can't get enough.
The two of you pull away slowly, neither one of you wanting to give up the kiss- but you eventually have to surrender to the night and to the cold. You place one final peck on Spencer's lips.
"Now you have to call me." You giggle, unable to hide your excitement.
"Yeah-yeah," Spencer nods, eyes wide, his lips are shiny and his cheeks a pretty shade of pink. "Absolutely."
"Goodnight Spencer." You say once more, before turning around to head inside.
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A/N: whew! when I tell you I spent all day writing this i mean all day! that's okay though... im obsessed with grad school! reid. anyways..... thinking about making a (potentially smutty) part two to this ;-)
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My best friend and I had a call recently---she’s back with her family for a bit helping out with some hometown stuff. As part of the stuff, she’s been going through a (deceased) relative’s scrapbook, compiled in the American Midwest circa 1870-1900 and featuring mostly cut-out figures from the ads of the day.
She talked about how painstaking this relative’s work was. (Apparently the relative was careful to cut out every finger, every cowlick; this was by no means carelessly or hastily assembled.) But she also she talked about how---the baby on the baking soda ad is ugly, it is so ugly, why anyone would clip this heinously ugly illustrated baby and paste it into a scrapbook? Why would you save the (terribly told, boring) ghost story that came with your box of soap?
(Why include these things in the first place? we asked each other. ”There’s a kind of anti-capitalism to it,” she mused.)
And we discussed that for a bit---how most of the images, stories, artists, and ads were local, not national; they’re pulled from [Midwestern state] companies’ advertisements in [Midwestern state] papers, magazines, and products. As a consequence, you’re not looking at Leyendecker or Norman Rockwell illustrations, but Johann Spatz-Smith from down the road, who took a drawing class at college.
(College is the state college, and he came home on weekends and in the summer to help with the farm or earn some money at the plant.)
But it also inspired a really interesting conversation about how---we have access to so much more art, better and more professional art, than any time in history. As my bff said, all you have to do to find a great, technically proficient and lovely representational image of a baby, is to google the right keywords. But for a girl living in rural [Midwestern state] of the late 1800s, it was the baking soda ad, or literal actual babies. There was no in-between, no heading out to the nearby art museum to study oil paintings of mother and child, no studying photographs and film---such new technologies hadn’t diffused to local newspapers and circulars yet, and were far beyond the average person’s means. But cheap, semi-amateur artists? Those were definitely around, scattered between towns and nearby smallish cities.
It was a good conversation, and made me think about a couple things---the weird entitlement that “professional” and expensive art instills in viewers, how it artificially depresses the appetite for messy unprofessional art, including your own; the way that this makes your tastes narrower, less interesting, less open.
By that I mean---maybe the baby isn’t ugly! Maybe you’ve just seen too many photorealistic babies. Maybe you haven’t really stopped to contemplate that your drawing of a baby (however crude, ugly, or limited) is the best drawing of a baby you can make, and the act of drawing that lumpen, ugly baby is more sacred and profoundly human than even looking at a Mary Cassatt painting.
And even if that isn’t the case....there was this girl in [American Midwestern state] for whom it was very, very important that she capture every finger, curl, and bit of shading for that ugly soap ad baby. And some one hundred years later, her great-something-or-other took pains to preserve her work---because how terribly human it is, to seek out all the art we can find that resonates with us, preserve it, adore it.
It might be the most human impulse we have.
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cripplecharacters · 2 days
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Hi, I have some questions regarding confusion over a certain topic. First off, I have a character with a severe scarring on the upper right side of their body. I've heard in some tumblr ppsts that such appearance shouldn't be fetished. Then I stumbled across some posts, mentioning how the character can be described as 'pretty with it'.
For sure, I'm trying my best to normalize the looks. Because I have a love interest set up for them and while they don't mind the looks, I feel confused on how to convey their appreciation for the character's looks even with the scarring. They like the character as they are and stuff.
Sorry if this is a lot, I tend to get confused on how to handle such scenarios. And this sort of varying opinions is making me go '???'.
It's okay if you take your time to answer! Have a good day ahead of ya!
Hi!
"Fetishization of a disability" and "thinking that a disabled person is pretty" are two very different things. Despite the somewhat similar sound, they're not connected by much.
In the context of scars, fetishization would be what I would call the "Zuko situation" (yes, I love ATLA as much as the next guy, let me explain) - the scar isn't really a scar, it's more of a, I don't know, make-up? It's just the color that changes, it's all sharp edges and intricate shapes, the facial structure stays the exact same. There's no physical symptoms. Essentially, it's permanent body paint.
It fetishizes a disability by making it inaccurate, sometimes almost mystical. You don't see anyone fetishizing how real people with facial burns look like because they only like the idea of it. They don't care for us; they don't care for Face Equality or why we are offended by "villain with scar #32482". It's just a fun splotch of color to add to your OC when you're out of ideas.
Another aspect of fetishization is the "a scar is the worst thing in the whole world", the tragedy porn. It's using a disability for cheap drama. Again; it's inaccurate and exploitative. I don't see writers excited to depict my "coming to terms with my facial difference as a teenager, and eventually being proud of it" experience because where's the shock value and pity points? Fetishization, again, is about liking the idea of it, not the real thing.
Describing your character as beautiful, well, isn't any of that.
The point that I tried to make on that post was that a scar is often considered inherently ugly. That it's a stain on someone's beauty, that it would be better if it wasn't there.
"Brown beautiful eyes, thick facial hair, strong cheekbones - he managed to be irresistibly handsome even with that nasty scar going across his nose."
This, well, sucks. It's as if the character's beauty and their disability are contradictory forces that have to fight each other. But in reality, scars and any other visible disabilities are neutral. If the character is pretty, their scar is pretty too. It's a part of them, so how could it not be?
"She was a cute girl; her pastel pink, thinly braided hair framed her face, defying gravity by curling towards her mouth. The burned skin on her lips shifted as she smiled, revealing a tooth gap. She played with her equally pink 'white' cane, holding it between the two fingers she had on her right hand, bopping it against the ground to the rhythm of the song."
This, on the other hand, just states her disability as a part of her person. It's nothing weird or shocking, she's pretty, has a burn on her face, she's blind, she's missing some fingers, she's enjoying the music - it's almost boring when compared to the usual "scar introduction". There's no "even with her horribly burnt face", no "if only she wasn't scarred she would be beautiful", no "poor thing, lost her fingers in a horrific fire" - instead, she is beautiful, and she has scars, and she sure is having fun. That's it.
This is my best shot at explaining the difference between "fetishization" and "yeah they're pretty :-)" ft. my questionable writing - I hope this makes sense.
I definitely took my time to answer, sorry about that. Thank you for your ask!
mod Sasza
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flowersforchoso · 6 months
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Making up with bi-han
this is the sequel to breaking up with bi han, which can be found here
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even after he beseeched for another chance, you remained resolute in your decision. unwavering
though the rejection bruised his ego and badly, he was not going to act crazy over it. if you were expecting him to grovel, then forget it because he won't do that
however, his hurt this time directed inwards. he feels it deeply, marinates in it. the pain is immersive. like ripping the bandages of fresh wounds and dousing it with salt.
what he feels is defeat. which manifests as a sinister detachment. the shift in his behaviour is almost imperceptible but its hyper visible, to a keen eye. he would still lash out from time to time, albeit with less vigor. he's become much more... subdued. in mannerism. almost as if the lin kuei grandmaster was replaced by a clone.
as a man who hates showing emotions, he keeps to himself, unbeknownst that it was instead, a riveting display of it
and all because of a woman's rejection no less. not just any woman, but a woman whom he loves. someone he opened his heart for, a rare occurrence.
its at this point that kuai liang intervenes because something was amiss. and since nobody knows his brother better than him, he could tell he was hurting despite trying to mask it, or failing to do so.
so he comes to you acting as a mediator of sorts. a bridge connecting distant worlds. proposing you consider his brother's affections towards you.
the encounter shocks you to say the least, and you express your disbelief in bi han having to resort to cheap tricks such as this—sending others to beg on his behalf
to which kuai liang corrects, by telling you that this was out of his own volition. his brother had nothing to do with it and this concerns you for bi han was haughty. you never could've imagined you, of all people, got to him this way.
you think it through and decide that maybe, a change was due
so you took initiative and requested to see him. with kuai liang being the messenger, that puts hermes to shame, and to bi han's consternation. he didn't ask neither did he appreciate the meddling
you arrived at madame bo's. when it was sparse and dark. beyond closed hours. you felt this was too serious and solemn of a meeting as you entered the establishment. and she, madame bo herself, playfully scolded you for being such a heartbreaker. wait. how did she know this?
you stood in a corner. then began pacing, rehearsing all the things you wanted to say to him as the restaurant emptied out
few minutes later, there was an addition. bi han appeared and you heard your heart beat loudly. a tumultuous sound capable of rupturing your eardrums
he approached you. bore the familiar scowl that etched across his features. you imagined he thought the occasion ridiculous and juvenile. a tangle reserved for the school-aged
"you wanted to see me" he grinds out causing your eyes to dart upwards to meet his. searching for... only heaven knows, as you drew in shaky breaths. the air loathing you in the moment.
then you willed yourself into speaking, allowing the hurt and pain take over by pouring your heart out; telling the ways he hurt you, and how he maintained he had done no wrong, justifying himself. invalidating your feelings
you couldn't prevent the tears from falling as you recount those memories. letting out mournful sobs when you told him you loved him then, and still do now
bi han is taken aback by all of this. seeing you crestfallen, a side he had never seen, and being the reason was gut-wrenching. which propels him to envelope you in an embrace
he then apologizes, a first for him, killing the ugly need to defend himself. there's so much he wants to say, but lacks the linguistic flexibility to convey the emotions that welled from within him, with you, in the dark about his internal struggles
when you finally steadied yourself, you sniffed, "thank you. that's all i wanted to hear"
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cauchys-special-boy · 5 months
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for most of my life i just kinda assumed everyone liked modern art and architecture. some people would claim they liked obviously ugly and boring old style things covered in gold and shit, but they were either way too in the weeds or signalling their superior sophistication (notably what those people claim about my tastes, though i didn't know it at the time)
i had this whole theory worked out where back in the day they were really resource poor, so the rich people would display their wealth by building what were essentially giant piles of money. a giant pile of money has different requirements than a genuinely beautiful building, so of course you get different results. then we invented toilets, showers, and gold spraypaint. oh no, now you can get a big golden eyesore for cheap! so finally taste could prevail, and we could build cool looking buildings with interesting shapes and more than one color
these days im consciously aware that the majority of people prefer classic style buildings (and art) but intuitively it just doesn't make sense. i can't empathize at all, it simply doesn't click. i assume i wasn't born with these preferences, my parents have them too but my brother doesn't. but whatever process put this preference in my head is over now- i am totally incapable of seeing brutalist or modern architecture as ugly or classic architecture as beautiful
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