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magpiemorality · 4 years

Note

Oh! It’s Saturday! I can send in a prompt! So way back when Altruistic Skittles did the first of the nightmare series, with Remus, you reblogged and said you might want to write something based on the picture. Last I knew, she said that people can write fanfictions from the pictures, as long as they’re properly credited. If that’s still something you’d be interested in, I’d love to see it!

This is very big, somewhat in honour of Remus’ birthday today, a very long and dramatic origin for him.

Check out the amazing art that prompted this fic here :) and thanks to @altruistic-skittles for making it and allowing works based off it!!

Also thanks to @omgsomeonesomewhereonearth for giving this a glance over for me on very short notice :)

Warnings: unreliable narrator, Anxiety is viewed as a bad guy, Remus isn’t particularly friendly, long post.

AO3

***

Roman had been feeling off for a while. He was far from the only one; puberty was tough on every aspect of Thomas, including Logan who had been stretched to his limits trying to keep up with all the demands of an average American high school life. But with Anxiety suddenly in the picture things were even more complicated. Who was he? Where had he come from? And why wouldn’t he leave?

In all honesty Roman hadn’t actually known there were other sides. He’d sort of, maybe naively, assumed that the three of them were the sum of Thomas’ parts, and that they covered everything Thomas would ever need. Sort of like Inside Out, which had in no way at all influenced their existence; they were the pilots who tended to the world inside Thomas’ busy head, just… minus the less good parts. Maybe Thomas didn’t need avatars for those things; maybe he didn’t value them that way, or maybe he just didn’t view them as part of himself?

It was an unfinished theory, but Roman mostly left those sorts of things to Logan, and Logan was too busy for much introspection these days. Which was why Anxiety had gone unchecked for so long.

Sometimes it felt like only Roman was the target of his attacks. Logan faltered, sure, but he was stubborn as all hell when it came to his routines and priorities and Anxiety hadn’t managed to shake them too much just yet. Logan was too established in Thomas’ head to allow wiggle room for anxious thoughts to disrupt his work. Patton also seemed to get away with coexisting with the guy; they fed off each other, or perhaps Anxiety had seen Patton’s power and figured it was easier to work with him than against him, turning good feelings to worry and guilt.

Okay so maybe Patton wasn’t unaffected, but he was so good at putting on a brave face that Anxiety had evidently seen fit to back off out of pure pity, and that left Roman.

Roman, Roman, Roman, trying his best to stay afloat on the sea of schoolwork and stress, to throw creativity into Thomas’ days so his smile wouldn’t fade. Until stupid, miserable, Despicable He, came along and took it upon himself to thwart Roman’s noble goal.

Their fights were spectacular, unfortunately often feeding into the influence Anxiety had clawed for himself over Thomas and leaving him feeling worse than before Roman had begun the battle. Not that Roman ever started things! He just kept trying to do his work, to do his best, and then Anxiety would show up and bam! Thomas’ hand would falter when writing his cathartic fanfiction, or his mind would blank as he searched for the lines to his latest monologue, or his voice would wobble and break on the notes of a song.

So things were weird, and that wasn’t all.

All it took in the end were a few cutting remarks from Anxiety that didn’t make any sense, and Roman was lost to that edge of paranoia, forever wondering what he meant. A jibe about Thomas not being a perfect person; a sneer laughing at how none of them had even known Anxiety existed before he’d appeared; a scoff that came with the bold assertion that just pretending you weren’t like that didn’t mean you actually weren’t. He seemed to reference someone else sometimes, with a vicious sort of victory that was at least in part tainted with misery, someone who- if Roman was interpreting the clues right- Thomas didn’t even know worked for him, who Anxiety had escaped from.

And then there was the matter of the tower.

Roman stared out of the bedroom window. It was his bedroom, his own copy of Thomas’, and if he focused hard enough he could see the shimmering after-images of the original, with Thomas’ homework on the desk, his clothes on the floor, his posters not quite matching up to Roman’s. He wasn’t in his room like Roman was, downstairs at dinner with the family, and not thinking too hard with his creativity. It left Roman free to do what he so often did these days; stare out of the window.

Spread out below him was the familiar, comforting sight of the backyard, with its play area and the patio and the grass, the treehouse in the far right corner looking shabbier than ever from its lack of use. Thomas’ dad had been talking of taking it down soon now the kids were too old to use it, but both Patton and Roman- and in fact Anxiety in a rare display of unity- had dug their heels in as Thomas instinctively balked at the prospect of losing just another tie to his childhood. Patton had discovered nostalgia recently and Anxiety had discovered how much Roman feared the term ‘growing up’ and the treehouse was just a big old symbol for all of them to cling to. A beacon of bad things; a final point of no return.

Roman hadn’t been inside in years, in all honesty, but curiously Thomas had, and more than once. Whatever occurred in there Roman wasn’t sure, but he felt a sense of… something faintly off whenever he looked at the treehouse, that hadn’t entirely started after he’d stopped going inside. This time was no different, and he wondered what the slight churn in Thomas’ gut meant, now that Roman had inadvertently bent his thoughts in the direction of the bottom right corner of the garden. Why picking at the faint memories of the interior of that shadowy wooden structure made their creator push his food around the plate and focus extra hard on talking about his classes, shutting Roman out soundly.

The treehouse was still there, still dark and foreboding and strange. Roman’s eyes started to water slightly, warping the image, until it flickered ever so quickly.

He gasped, shoving his whole body forwards, pressing his nose to the glass as it fogged around him with his quick breaths, trying to see it again.

It remained stubbornly as it always had been, leaving Roman to wonder if he’d imagined the flash of dark, crumbling tower that had blinked into and out of existence.

But he hadn’t, because as he lay in bed that night, doodling ideas into his notebook while Thomas tried to fall asleep, the shadows outside his window lengthened and the light that should have fallen on his curtains was slowly, steadily blocked out. The darkness felt cool, and thrilling in the way watching a horror movie when you weren’t supposed to felt thrilling, with that edge of risk to it that got your heartbeat going and made your palms clammy. Roman could feel the moment Anxiety noticed it as well, because Thomas’ brain whirred back awake in an instant, the tossing and turning that disrupted him more and more often these teenage nights starting up yet again. Logan began gamely battling to get Thomas to continue on to sleep, Logic coming up against Anxiety for once, but Roman…

Roman got out of bed, creeping out of his room and down the hall, sneaking carefully down the stairs one by one so Logan wouldn’t notice and stop fighting with Anxiety. The tiled floor was cool under his bare feet as he crossed it to the back door, sliding it open with a soft whoosh of the well-used mechanism.

The tower awaited him, taller than the treehouse had ever been and far more foreboding. It was made of dark, black brick, slimy and badly worn, surrounded by thorns and with no discernible entrance. A real Rapunzel tower, straight from the Grimm brothers themselves.

A fairy-tale come to life. And Thomas hadn’t imagined Roman in the image of a dashing Disney prince for nothing; so he started forwards, heedless of his lack of shoes or weapons or anything. He had his curiosity and that was a thousand times more powerful in that moment than anything else. He wanted to know, and whatever thing (maybe a monster? Roman had only vague theories but he was leaning towards trapped monster) was imprisoned within; it felt close to escape.

Were he Logan in that moment, Roman would theorise that the tower held some kind of dark aspect of Thomas that he’d hidden from himself, and that in the darkness before sleep it was hardest to maintain the lie, confronted with the harsh truth of oneself. But Roman wasn’t Logan, and he didn’t think too deeply beyond thing bad- must know more.

He got through the thorns with relative ease, considering how large and deadly they looked from across the garden. All it took was a stick from the pile they kept for a bug hotel, a brief flash of inspiration turning it to a shining sharp sword that sliced neatly through each thick tendril until they started to wither away from him as he approached and revealed a door with no lock nor handle, carved into the base of the tower.

Curiosity won again as Roman kicked it in, crumbling the ancient wood. He gasped, coughing as a thick gust of stale air wheezed out. It left Roman’s stomach twisting with nausea, but the need to be the prince and climb the tower was too strong to be deterred. Inside the house Anxiety upped the ante and Logan turned too late towards his own window, missing seeing Creativity take a step forwards and disappear into the treehouse.

It was dark inside, that was the first thing Roman noticed. It was obviously going to be dark, a tower with no windows, but the darkness felt more than that. It felt like it hid an endless number of bad things waiting to come forwards, to pounce at any moment. The walls were horribly slimy when Roman used them to find the winding staircase, and the smell… Better not to mention it at all.

Suddenly, the sound of whispered movement from above.

“Hello?” Roman called softly, hoping he’d imagined it. Nothing replied, but the darkness felt closer, and he hurried upwards with the sword ready. “Anyone there?”

A pair of yellow eyes watched, waiting, from below, but Roman never looked down, intent on reaching his goal. He didn’t see the way the door was repairing itself, or how the thorns had regrown. His only thoughts were for the top of the tower and what lay in wait.

There was the tiniest crack of light when he got up at long last, feet sore and eyes dry from straining to see something. It was a sliver from under a door, faint silver light, the only hint there was a door there at all until he felt it under his fingertips.

It didn’t budge when he touched it, and once again there was no sign of a handle. Roman kicked it with a frustrated sigh, only to freeze totally still when the whisper of movement came again, -only this time, closer and clearer- it sounded a little like rusted metal, sliding against itself.

The eyes down below, having followed the prince’s progress, narrowed in thought, but before they could make a decision Logic gained the upper hand over Anxiety back in the house and for a brief, shining moment, the tower was lit up bright and the door clicked open.

Roman threw himself in before it could close again, and just in time too, because the light faded not a moment later, the door sealing itself up again. How he was going to get out, he wasn’t sure. But that was a problem for later- the fairy-tale dictated he had reached his goal. This was the end of the story.

So what was his prize?

There was a shape, in the room. A figure, about his own size, sat facing the window. Roman blinked hard to clear the spots that danced over his vision in the wake of the sudden flash of light, and the figure came slowly into view in the murk. A boy, with poufy sleeves and an outfit to match the setting, staring out of the window back towards the house. Back towards Thomas, back towards where Roman had been staring out from. The boy yawned, stretching his arms up and it was then that Roman noticed the chains.

He was chained to the floor. Was this the monster at the top of the tower? Or the… dude in distress?!

This wasn't actually a fairy-tale, so the former seemed exponentially more likely, and Roman gulped as fear took root.

“I know, I know, come to shut me up again. I just wanted a bit of fun, D-“

The boy stopped, frozen as still as Roman’s heart as it skipped a beat. Two identical faces, two sets of identical eyes, stared in horror and dawning, dim comprehension at each other.

“You’re Roman!” The other boy shrieked, loud enough to make Roman flinch back. It stopped the grin on the chained boy’s face in its tracks, and he tilted his head, eyes turning cold and calculating in a heartbeat.

“Who are you?” Roman squeaked, barely able to get his voice to work. “Why are you locked up? Are you evil? Does Thomas have…” his voice fell to a whisper. “A Dark side?”

The boy cackled, a joyful sound that shouldn’t have been as unsettling as it was. The clanking of the chains as he doubled over only heightened the feeling that something was wrong, and Roman screamed when the boy darted forwards suddenly.

He was yanked back by the chains, snapping his jaw in Roman’s face with a wild snarl and snorting with amusement when Roman’s back hit the far wall, sword out and shaking in his unsteady grip. “A dark side? Everyone’s got a dark side, Prince Perfect. If you think you don’t, you’re just not looking hard enough."

"Thomas is good!"

"Thomas is real,” the boy purred, moving back to sit at the window again, gazing back towards the house. The distant sensation of Logic and Anxiety fighting for the upper hand grew when Patton joined, his constant underlying guilt swelling support for their anxious antagonist. The chained boy laughed, fingers tapping against his face too quick for Roman to even see, lips moving soundlessly on words Roman definitely didn’t want to hear. “Have you come to defeat me, Roman? No, you didn’t even know I was here, did you. Locked in my tower, kept from my one true calling. It’s for my own good, you know? D- the dragon that guards me says so. It’s for everyone’s good that I don’t get out, most of all Thomas’.” The name felt reverent the way the boy said it, softly and sweetly, like calling the name of a deity. It made Roman wince. “It’s only right that a villain should be kept away.”

“Who are you?"

"I’m you, but stronger,” the boy retorted, breaking into cackles. “I’m you but scarier. That’s what they thought, anyway. I think I’m just something else. I think I’m bad news. I think Thomas is bad news…"

Roman wouldn’t stand for that. He held his sword out more confidently, raising his chin. "Thomas is a great guy! He’s the best! He’s full of good things and light and-”

“And darkness and wondering, wandering thoughts and impulses, just like anyone. Even you. You would kill me if you thought you should, if you thought it was your Disney story, wouldn’t you. Without hesitation, but Roman! Killing is wrong!”

“Not in Disney!"

”Even in Disney!“

A howl of rage echoed around the tower, along with the sound of metal on stone as Roman brought the sword down on the window ledge beside the boy’s hands. The chained boy didn’t flinch, just beaming victoriously at Roman, cackling his disquieting cackle.

"Who are you really?! Tell me!"

The boy opened his mouth to speak, a hunger in his eyes that Roman didn’t understand, but the tower shuddered. His eyes darted to the door and Roman’s couldn’t help but follow. "Oh dear, Roman. You shouldn’t have come here. Curiosity killed the cat, you know, and the witch is on his way to toss you out of the tower…”

“I thought you said it was a dragon?”

“Dragon, witch, there was a time when there wasn’t any difference to you. Maybe you’re learning some nuance now though. That’s gotta be rough, buddy, you’re practically made from simplicity.”

Roman narrowed his eyes at the insult, and the tower shuddered again. The boy picked up his cackling again, louder and louder as the shuddering turned to heavy footsteps approaching up the stairs. And Roman wondered, if this was the monster that guarded this boy, what did that make the boy?

“He’s here.”

The door burst open, a hazy shape flying in and grabbing Roman, what felt like giant claws snatching him up and carrying him out of the tower, dropping him hard onto the lawn before it whirled back around and vanished back into the… treehouse?

The tower was gone. The treehouse looked like it always had, dark and grim, but it was definitely just the same treehouse as ever.

He fell back, sprawling on the grass as his limbs turned to jelly from the residual adrenaline, while inside Anxiety let up at last and Logan won the battle for the night. Thomas slipped uneasily into dreams.

The tug of unconsciousness grew heavy, dragging on Roman’s very being now his creator had finally fallen asleep. He just about managed to drag himself inside to bed before succumbing at last, glad to leave the whole strange night behind him.

Masterlist | Buymeacoffee

#writepie #ts roman #ts remus #ts sanders sides #ts sanders sides fic #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic #fucking READ MORES #FIX THEM

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inksparkcrafts · 5 years

Text

Jewelry Making: Because this stuff may not be as intuitive as I thought.

So first and foremost this post is in response to/inspired by @lunar-rose-witch who originally tagged a request for help as "#jewelry making" and fully caught my attention, inspiring me to not only give her some quick pointers but start writing a full-on-post in my craft blog for the first time in years. (Also I looked back and half my response dissipated into the ether, sorry!

Also I’m going to buck craft blog trend a bit: The personal backstory will bring up the rear of this piece, so you can get to the juicy info right away. Hit the read more for the full speech.

MASSIVE EDIT: Not all the techniques in this post work for all styles of jewelry. This is for the typical, “like what you can buy in the store” type techniques, but there are specific techniques and styles that don’t quite match the most specific, technique- and supply-based info here just due to the nature of their creation. (for good examples, look at macrame hemp jewelry or kandi, a style making primary use of elastic, monofilament, and plastic beads) A lot of the more basic info works, though, I just wanted to cover that.

So here’s how I’m going to structure it: Quick explanation, and then a “high-end” and “budget” approach if it applies, and then my recommendation which usually swings somewhere between the two. Rinse and repeat until we get to the bottom of my list of subjects. No time for questions, the area I’m writing in has spotty wifi!

Tips

(note: no high-end or budget options, this applies to everyone)

Full disclosure, this is upfront because if you’re confident in your jewelry-making you don’t need the other stuff.

The most important tip is to always have fun. You want to make something bright and colorful? Go ahead. You want to please a divine figure in your life with what you wear? That’s fine! You want to make an avant garde wearable piece? I fully support you! You want to make a way to carry something with you? I have a giant box-shaped “locket” I can’t be against that! You want to make it look like a cooking pan melted weird and wear it on your head? Please post pics! You want to incorporate the usb drive you use for school into your earrings? Let’s see someone knick it off you now! You want to make a hangman’s noose into a necklace? Stitch like 20 stitches of upholstery thread through that knot so you don’t actually strangle yourself. Once you’ve done that you do you boo. I digress, don’t hurt yourself, but do have fun with it. Most of the following information is for standard cold-connection (read: no sautering) jewelry making, which is a good foundation for your line of 30 ways to creatively use rope as a necklace.

My next tip connects nicely to the first: check your fit and watch your weight. Not your bodyweight, the weight of your piece. A few ounces on the body can be comforting, but a half pound on your wrist or neck is asking for pain later. Likewise with the fit, a snug princess fit may be nice, but a tight collar not so much. As you’re working, regularly check the fit, especially if 1) it’s a new design, and 2) you’re planning on wearing it. Especially especially if you’re wearing it to an event where you can’t easily ditch it. Put on your piece, move around a little to make sure it doesn’t fall off. That kind of thing. Never just do it and call it done.

For laying it out on your workspace, you may want to invest in a beading mat. This keeps things, especially small beads, from rolling around on you. A beading board or a necklace board is useful if you plan on making a lot of pieces with distinct focal points. For both home and travel, they sell little spiral clips called bead bugs or bead buddies that grip tightly to where you’re stringing and worth their weight in gold. (binder clips work ok for this, but tend to slip off more easily) If you do a lot of making on the go, a clamshell project carrier is kind of pricey but may be worth your while.

Things to learn asap: how to make a crimp, how to make an eye, fisherman’s knot. There are other things but these bits of knowledge are absolute workhorses.

For those of you with metal allergies, work around it where you can, get something that won’t hurt your skin where you can’t. I often use cord or beads because a lot of market chains irritate my skin, and I always get hypoallergenic earring findings. It’s just not worth the hassle not to.

Get a reference for default sizes. Just, even as a hobbyist. Trust me on this. It’s a good thing to know. Default sizes for necklaces, bracelets, rings, beads. Don’t even need to spend a lot of money, just print them from online. You’ll thank me later.

Info and Techniques

There are varying ways to learn more about jewelry making.

High-end: Buy every book on jewelry making you can. Take all the classes you can. Just absorb all the info you can!

Budget: Get a notebook and a pen and start taking some serious notes. You don’t need to draw well for this, but you see a technique you like? Jot it down. See a piece you think is cool? Make a quick sketch, try and figure out how to reverse engineer it. At the craft store and the employee tells you something you didn’t know? Into the book. Scour libraries, check the internet, fill that sucker with every little jewelry making thing that catches your interest.

My Recommendation: The budget solution, for sure, but I am also an avid Pinterest user. (I know Pinterest is free, but not everyone has regular access to a computer or the internet) I see a technique, I save it. The one risk is that you may spend more time pinning that you do making; thanks to the new feature of categories for each board, I’ve very recently started a private “projects” board, where I put all the stuff for a project I want to do. That way I don’t get distracted.

Sourcing Supplies

How and where you get your supplies is important for figuring out your project.

High-end: You can go to any jewelry making store and get the high-quality beads and findings, the strongest tools, and the stuff for the nicest setup. All your stuff, design aside, will be sturdy and high-quality. Go to the craft store for anything else.

Budget: Be an avid thrift-shopper. Buy old, cheap necklaces and harvest the beads. If the wire in the necklaces is still in decent condition, save that too. Same goes for particularly nice clasps. Use upholstery thread or, in a pinch, unscented dental floss. Some people use snaps for clasps, as they’re easier to maneuver. Wait for sales in your local craft store, and scrounge their clearance bins for some real gems. Make beads and focal-pieces from stuff around the house. Get creative!

My Recommendation: I swing wildly between the two. I have a metal allergy, meaning if I want to be able to wear my stuff I have to shell out for the hypo-allergenic stuff or find an alternative that won’t irritate my skin. But some of my best beads have come from $1 thrift store necklaces, and the better I get the more I can make on my own. I’ve made my own clasps before from shrink plastic, which- fun fact- can be scrounged from some plastic food containers, you don’t need to buy shrinky dinks! So, put down money on the part that’s important in your project, but you don’t need to spend a lot to make good jewelry when a bit of time investment will do the job.

Your Tools

Your toolset and supply choices will vary, from what you have to how you store it.

High-end: Get all the things! All the different types of pliers, beading needles, toolboxes, bead boards. If they sell it you can use it for something. The cool devices that make certain tasks easier to do, too.

Budget: One multi-tool. You can do everything from there.

My recommendation: Like with your supplies, put money where it matters. The biggest factor is how quickly a tool will wear down. Namely, don’t get too attached to your wire cutter because it’s going to go the way of all things way before anything else in your tool kit does. Here’s my basic list:

round nosed pliers

flat nosed pliers

wire cutters

bead bugs/bead buddies

a good pair of sharp scissors

large-eye beading needles (aint nobody got time for that tiny hole nonsense)

crimping tool

That last one is interesting and I want to point it out: a crimping tool is a little pair of pliers that help you fold crimps. (see Bracelets and Necklaces) It is the one tool that can’t really be used for anything else, except maybe helping with crimp covers. (there is also a pair of crimp cover pliers and... no. just no. save your money) This is the most specific tool I ever recommend because it is has one job and it is very good at it. If you’re planning on using a lot of beading wire, get a crimp tool. It’ll save you a headache later.

(finally, we get project specific)

Bracelets and Necklaces

For these kinds of projects, I always recommend beading wire. It’s sturdy and easy to use if you know how, and often lasts longer than string which can be affected by moisture, heat, and general wear and tear. The more strands it has, the more flexible it is. (i.e. 7 strands vs. 49 strands) Do not knot this material, always use a crimp bead or a crimp tube. Knots will come loose. I’m always surprised how many people don’t make this connection, as it is by name a wire, but now you know. You can use a pair of flat pliers to “seal” them, but I often recommend a crimping tool. (As I wrote above, a crimping tool is the most specific tool I will suggest you buy. It can do one thing but it’s damn good at that one thing.)

For those that want a more natural, or flexible, piece, thin cord or beading thread is where you’re going. Wildfire is pricey but lasts a long time and is a good beading thread. For beads with bigger holes, go for cotton, leather, or hemp beading cord.

An important note on this! Thin cord or silk cord is often used for stringing pearls. Should you find pearls interesting, a good technique to learn would be to knot inbetween each bead; this keeps the beads from grinding up against each other and getting damaged, and is also a good way to avoid losing your entire strand if the cord snaps at some point. My technique is this: string pearl. Start to tie a knot. Put a sewing pin or a needle into the knot and gently pull until the knot, needle and all, is pushing against your bead. Then tighten. Repeat.

Elastic and stretchy cord is ok? Better for lighter pieces. Personally I don’t like it because over time it will soak up the sweat and oils of your skin, which will promptly degrade it to the point it snaps. Better for young kids or people with less dexterity, since it’s easy to put on and take off. I used to use one, but then I’d be working and my necklace would get caught on something somehow for a second and then hit me in the neck or wrist. No thank you.

Monofilament is like fishing line and kind of tricky. It’s strong and can be used in the place of beading wire, but only up to a point. It has a bit of give which gives it weakness, but not enough to be stretchy. Still, it has good strength, is almost invisible, and if you’re thrifty can be bought as sturdy fishing line and save you some coin. If you ever see a piece with “floating” beads, they used a monofilament thread.

Chains are almost a topic all to themselves, since there’s such a wide variety. Your tools will open links on chains with defined links, but look carefully at chains like ball chains and snake chains, which need to be treated specially as they have no distinct links. Also, if you have a metal allergy, this is where money will go, that or only ever wear your piece with collared shirts or over sleeve cuffs.

Your clasps will vary, but I recommend against anything that will fall loose and cause your piece to fall off. I love toggles but if the piece is too light you’re asking to lose it. Lobster clasps are a solid go-to option, albeit a bit tricky on bracelets, where you may find a hook more your style. Those ridiculous barrel clasps are best on necklaces, where you can use both hands to full affect. The magnets are strong and very good, but I don’t use them much because I’m always worried I’ll Stick To Something Right When I Don’t Need To. Good if you or the recipient has dexterity issues since it’ll just snap together.

Be careful with your beads, especially on bracelets. Since they’re laying on a curved surface, how the beads will go together will vary. This is where “try on your piece” comes into play. And a word of advice, try not to go too wild in variation or with something too sharp, especially for your wrist. That hurts. Also, avoid going too heavy.

Rings and Earrings

This is where hypoallergenic stuff comes into play the most. (side note, if you don’t have any metal allergy, you can skip this paragraph you fortunate soul) You can weave or tie a ring, but you can’t do that with an earring finding. The big bucks will be put down on those, since depending on your sensitivity you may have to put down bigger bucks for 14k gold and sterling silver findings. The internet is a good resource for this, but always check reviews. Be careful in craft stores, since sometimes the packaging will be confusingly worded. You can temporarily get around this by putting the hook or post in antibiotic ointment right before putting it in your ear, but this is iffy for long-term use.

Make sure your posts have backings that stay on, usually those little curly things or the bullets. For fishhooks there’s a product called a hook keeper or something similar. You may have seen it on the back of earrings you just bought; they’re a little piece of rubber that keeps the hook from working its way out of your ear, good for active people. You can buy these suckers in bulk.

Before I move on to rings, earrings, are where the weight thing is the biggest issue; when I just got my ears pierced, I made a ton of earrings out of clay in preparation for being able to switch them out. One of them was a pair of massive and thick earrings based off a tv show, I think. This lead to Immediate Regret, as the earrings stretched my earlobes to the point of me supporting them with my hands while walking through Walmart to avoid the pain, before realizing how stupid that was and taking them out. Watch the weight, the lighter the better as most ear piercings go through the fleshiest, least structured part of your body. Just, in general, avoid too much weight on anything that uses a piercing. Unless that’s the point. (I see you guys with gauges)

As for rings! I honestly don’t make a lot since I don’t wear a lot, but here’s what I know: your base should either have some give (read: stretchy) or be adjustable. if it’s a fixed size, test the fit constantly while making it. You don’t want to spend that time and energy on something that either rattles around on your thumb or can barely fit your pinky. Always watch the fit on any of these; your fingers will turn white first if something is too tight, then slowly turn red. That is a bad fit, don’t wear it like that. Switch it to a different finger if you have to. You’ll see visible space if it’s too loose. Don’t wear it like that either, you’ll lose it or worse, get caught on something. I actually have an aunt that lost a whole finger that way. Don’t do that. (Maybe that’s the reason I don’t like rings?)

If your ring has to have a large profile (read: a lot of stuff on top) make sure it’s secure. Try to avoid little fiddly bits where you can, go for something like a mountain: large base. When possible, go for something like a coin; low profile, goes along the fingers, but with lots of room to create. Try not to have too many things going off it, either; anything that dangles off the ring really shouldn’t go farther than the side of your hand. This is as much safety as anything; you don’t want your ring to get caught on something and get ripped off your hand, or worse. Also, try to avoid anything too... bumpy? Like with too much variation on the side, the kind that will dig into the sides of your fingers. Not a fun time.

My Backstory

(aka the personal story I moved to the end so you could get to the juicy info)

I got into jewelry making literally by being asked to be the jewelry instructor. You’d think it was the other way around; nope! We needed a jewelry instructor and I was already making baby steps by gluing buttons to earring posts, so I agreed to learn to basics and help education out in the craft store where I worked. That lead to a fascination; there’s seriously so much stuff you can do if you just know where to look! I’ve been making my own jewelry ever since.

As such, I’ve put a lot of time into learning new techniques, which is where I am now. As anyone who’s decently good at something will tell you, the more you know the more you realize you don’t know. I am by no means an expert. The idea is to pass this info on to anyone who somehow knows less than me.

Thanks for reading! If there’s anything I missed or you want to know more about feel free to hit me up with an ask.

#jewelry making #jewelry design

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itsclydebitches · 5 years

Note

Drabble Prompt: Ruby makes some hot cocoa for Ozpin/Oscar when she finds them awake one night. (post V6E4 was what I had in mind)

I’m being unfair and skipping ahead in my prompts because 1. I need this and 2. I promised @ninjanaomi hot cocoa yesterday and then didn’t deliver. Feel free to spray me with virtual water bottles

Spoilers for RWBY Vol 6 Episode 4

They say that the hunter never sleeps. The same can be said of the huntress.

Ruby had her hand on the edge of Crescent Rose before her mind registered what had woken her in the first place: the soft crunch of snow, muffled through decaying wood, and a silhouette passing by the window beside her. She’d expected that they would all sleep together in the living room when Yang found the old beds infested with bugs, something like their very first night at Beacon… It had hurt Ruby more than she could say when everyone still separated, hardly speaking as they settled in for the night. Now she had the little family room all to herself and was the only one there to notice that someone was still out in the snow.

Ruby left her weapon behind. Foolish, maybe. Probably. But something told her not to go into this conversation armed.

“Hey.”

Oscar wasn’t a hunter though, not yet, and his whole body jerked when Ruby’s voice broke the silence. She hadn’t even realized how she’d been moving: picking up on how the farmhouse door had squeaked earlier and making sure to open it slowly; walking toe-first through the snow to minimize the sound of her boots; keeping to where the shadows were long enough to hide her. Those instincts broke when Oscar raised arms protectively over his head and flinched backwards against a fencepost. Ruby kept still until his eyes opened again.

“Ruby.” Even in the dark she could see how far his shoulders fell in realization; the fear rushing right out of him.

Actually, it wasn’t very dark at all. The snow had picked up after their arrival and the pristine blanket reflected the moon, providing a surprising amount of light once Ruby’s eyes adjusted. She could see now how hard Oscar was shaking and felt something hot settling in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Ruby squeaked. She held up her hands, now doubly glad she hadn’t taken Crescent Rose with her. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just saw—thought—what are you doing out here?”

Blinking, Oscar surveyed the odd pile at his feet. Ruby could make out sticks of various lengths, leaves, a few bits of trash that must have been lying around for years. Once he’d looked down it seemed like Oscar didn’t know how to look back up again.

“Clearing debris,” he said, voice hollow. “You… you’ve gotta keep the fields clean for when spring comes. Clear the tree lines too. Otherwise stuff might get caught in your equipment later, you know? We’d be doing that back home now. No. Wait. I’d be doing…” Oscar trailed off. He pressed a hand to the side of his head like saying anymore physically hurt him.

Ruby had realized as a kid that things were a lot easier at night. She might chaff at being the “baby” of the family during daylight hours, but had no qualms about crawling into Dad’s bed once the sun went down. All her secret talks with Yang took place between 2:00 and 4:00am. She could often admit things more easily too—whispering them to the ceiling where they stayed until she was finally ready to speak them in the morning.

Nighttime had more possibility to it. There was a whole mess of things to work through come tomorrow, but right then none of it seemed to matter when it was just her, Oscar, and the snow.

…and Ozpin.

Ruby opened her mouth to ask how long he’d been out here, noticed the size of the pile (like a bird’s nest, she thought) and closed it. Instead, Ruby gently took Oscar by the arm and tried not to hiss at how cold he was.

“Okay,” she whispered. “C’mon. Just… follow me.”

He did and the part of Ruby still churning over questions of faith and trust and responsibility loosened a little when he did. She kept a tight hold on Oscar’s wrist as they picked their way back to the farmhouse and halfway there his other hand rose up to grasp at the edge of her cloak. They slipped inside like that, silent and tethered.

Ruby didn’t actually believe that the rest of the group was sleeping soundly, but it made her all the more focused on making sure no one came out to check on them. Qrow had taken up position at the very back of the house—facing the direction they hadn’t cleared of grimm and strangers yet—and Maria had closed the door to the one guest room downstairs. Yang, Weiss, and Blake had all gone up to the second floor to carve out their own spaces. In retrospect, Ruby didn’t know where Oscar had planned to sleep. Or if he intended to sleep at all.

She snuck them into the kitchen.

“Sit,” she said, all but dragging him onto one of the rickety chairs. It wasn’t like the house had heat anymore, but the wood and stone did a decent job of keeping out the wind and seven bodies scattered throughout had helped to add a bit of warmth over the course of several hours. After a moment’s hesitation Ruby re-lit the fireplace they’d stocked, deciding that Oscar’s blue lips were more important than a potential interruption. After another pause she pulled off her cloak and draped it over his shoulders.

It was only then she realized he was still holding onto it. Now he let go.

“I can’t take—”

“You should really—”

They both stopped, waiting for the other to continue and unwilling to do the same. Eventually, Ruby’s lips twitched and Oscar mirrored her.

“You’re cold,” she said only, hopping up onto the table. It was a massive wood structure that had her looking down on Oscar just a bit, giving Ruby space to swing her legs and get the blood going. The smell of the fire burning dust filled her nose and a bit of the chill seeped out of her hands. Oscar tugged her cloak closer and buried his face in the folds.

Ruby stopped swinging. “He wasn’t right you know.”

A slight tilt of his head was the only evidence of confusion.

“Uncle Qrow, I mean.”

Oh, that was a sound. Ruby didn’t quite know what to call it—something like a scoff mixed in with a cold laugh—but it set her teeth on edge and gave her the sudden urge to shake Oscar until he promised to never, ever make a sound like that again. She settled for leaning down into his space. “He’s not, Oscar. I love Uncle Qrow but he’s not always right. You’re your own person and I—”

“Don’t lie.” Oscar’s head whipped up so fast that he nearly bludgeoned Ruby’s nose. He didn’t seem to notice though. There were tears welling up in his eyes and a tremble in his lips that ran all the way up into his cheeks. “I’m not me anymore, Ruby. Why don’t you get that? It doesn’t matter if he’s gone right now because he’ll come back and when he does we’ll merge or whatever and then I won’t be—” Oscar suddenly stopped, staring down at his hands, bawling them into fists before shoving them beneath her cloak. “I’m going to change, okay? I’ll change and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“So what?”

It slipped out fast, but as soon as she heard the words Ruby knew she meant them. She glared hard down at Oscar, voice rolling out in a tight whisper only because the rest of the house was still quiet. Ruby had no qualms about waving her arms though and Oscar reared back with a wide-eyed look that erased the bitter expression he’d had before.

Good.

“What? You think you’re just gonna stay this Oscar for ever and ever?” Ruby waved her arms harder when that shock turned to confusion. “I’ve changed. Of course I have! I went to Beacon and became a leader and fought the White Fang and watched my friends die.” Her throat caught on the last word but she didn’t slow down, scooting until her legs were pressed against Oscar’s shoulder and the two of them were smooshed together in a weird little bundle of limbs and cloth. “Everyone changes. That’s a good thing. Even if… even if the things that caused the change aren’t good themselves. Wait. That doesn’t make sense. Did it? Look. My point is that old Ruby was terrified to even talk to anyone other than Yang. She’d never have changed if given the chance, but then life made her and now I’m me.” Ruby gestured at all of her, hands finally beginning to still. “I like who I am now, Oscar. I don’t like some of the stuff that made me this way, but I also wouldn’t want to go back to being that old Ruby. It’s weird. But everything’s weird right now! So yeah, of course you’re going to change. You would have changed anyway. It’s just... now you get to change with him.”

Ruby wasn’t sure how Oscar would receive that last part, but if the way he drew his own hands close to his chest was any indication, maybe the thought wasn’t all bad.

“And you know what? No matter how you change, I know I’ll like that future Oscar. Okay? I promise.”

Ruby saw the movement of his throat and hastily looked away just as he pressed palms up against his eyes. For a long minute there was nothing but the fire and muffled sobs.

“Do you think he can hear us?” Ruby asked the wall. She only dared voice it after the sniffling had subsided. “Even locked up like that?”

“I... I don’t know. Why?”

“Because I think Ozpin needed to hear that too.”

Slipping from the table, Ruby gestured for Oscar to stay put and used her semblance to fly silently up the stairs and through the door she’d seen Yang choose. Her sister was asleep, a minor miracle given all they’d been through today, and Ruby was able to rummage through her luggage unnoticed.

She only stole a small piece. And if Yang asked about it, Ruby would say it had been for herself.

Another lie, but… Yang wasn’t ready to hear the small truths yet. Like how sometimes even the people she was furious with needed comfort too.

So Ruby took a piece of the chocolate Yang had bought at the station and flew back down to the kitchen. Oscar watched her, eyes red and puffy, as she located a brittle mug and the fresh water Weiss had boiled earlier that night. The fire had finally warmed them and Ruby used the now glowing wood to heat the water again, dropping the chocolate in piece by tiny piece. She hadn’t been able to find a spoon, so she used her finger to stir it all together. It hurt a little, but that was okay.

“Here,” Ruby said, shoving the makeshift hot chocolate at Oscar. “It’s probably gonna taste a little weird, but,” she shrugged.

Oscar reached for the treat with careful, reverent hands. “We don’t have a lot of supplies,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“So why?”

Ruby settled back onto the table, this time pulling the edge of her cloak over her legs like a blanket. Her right arm moved to drape itself over Oscar’s shoulder.

“Because you two look weird without a mug in your hands,” she said, squeezing him tight.

He smiled—a small one—and took the first sip.

When he did, Ruby thought she caught the slightest flicker of gold in the back of his eyes.

#rwby #rwbyfic #rwby spoilers #ruby #oscar #valasania-the-pale

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kegareki · 5 years

Text

sometimes you write a 4500 word crossover between your naruto au and someone else’s. that’s just how life goes.

so here’s my 4500 word crossover between my naruto au shionverse (minato/oc, fix-it fic with gratuitous amounts of dimensional travel side-stories) and @crescentmoonrider‘s turtle au (kakashi dies; obito and rin say “fuck the system” and end up helping out at least two separate revolutions; meanwhile, in konoha, minato and orochimaru are science bffs)

“Being Shion’s apprentice will be fun,” he thought. “Space-time shenanigans are the most hilarious shenanigans,” he told Kakashi sagely. “I’ll be fine,” he assured Rin.

Obito would like to go back into the past and punch himself for being so fucking stupid.

“This is the third time this month!” he whisper-yells, tugging at his hair in despair. “Why am I so bad at sealwork?! /Why?!/”

Shion is peering at his quick rendering of his beautiful, dysfunctional seal, because sealwork is never kind enough to just follow them into another dimension. At least this time they’re in the same spot as they were before, in their own dimension, but that’s a questionable blessing, considering it’s Tobirama’s backyard. He had barely been born when Shion brought Hashirama and Tobirama back; he has no idea if the house looming behind them is actually Tobirama’s or if he appropriated it from another Senju Clan member.

/These/ things are what he has to concern himself with, now. Gods. Kakashi’s going to laugh at him as soon as they get back.

Tobirama had been /watching them/, too, from the safety of his kitchen. Obito bets that he’s going to finish his breakfast before meandering over to the Hokage Tower to tell Minato that his /spouse and almost-child/ have landed themselves in an entirely different universe.

Shion finally leans back onto their haunches, their forearms resettling on their thighs, and look at Obito. “It’s a very nice design,” they begin, because they /always/ begin with the compliments. “Incorporating the shape of your Mangekyo into the design, while remaining conscious of the Uzumaki spirals—it’s inspired. If you can make it work, it’s going to be a pretty piece of sealwork. However…”

Obito tries very hard not to sigh as he crouches down next to them to see the flaws that they’re pointing out.

Maybe he should have asked to shadow Minato during his Hokageship. That’d probably be easier than /this/.

- - -

After Obito has copied out the corrections onto his Correction Scroll, which documents his many failures, they wander out of the Senju Clan compound. It’s been half an hour, or nearly, and no one has come to investigate the presence of two people who should definitely not be here; it’s sort of disappointing.

Though, he thinks, eyeing the overgrowth on the path that in their dimension is kept tidy, maybe that has less to do with shitty security and more to do with an empty compound.

He makes a mental note to talk to Minato about it, just in case it really /is/ shitty security. With all the time they spend criticizing alternate universe Konohas, they really need to make sure that they have room to talk.

The landscape of every Konoha is a little different, even the Hokage Mountain: most of the time, it’s the four that he is familiar with—Hashirama, Tobirama, Hiruzen, and Minato—but sometimes there are additions, like Jiraiya as the Godaime, or substitutions, like Orochimaru as the Yondaime.

(No one talks about those dimensions, much. After hearing about how /their/ Orochimaru cut open Shion’s resurrections to see how close they are to real, alive people, Obito thinks that he understands. There are some things that you don’t want your mind to dwell on—things that you thought you knew would never happen, but did.)

In this dimension, there are no surprises on the Hokage Mountain. As they walk through the streets, passing from residential to commercial, Obito can pick out the familiar structures: there’s the convenience store with Saki’s favorite pudding cups; there’s the Mokuton-flush park that Kakashi’s pack loves so much; there’s the bakery that sells Yondaime cheesecakes.

He wonders if they still sell them, here. The current Hokage might not be the Yondaime.

As if sensing his thoughts, Shion nudges his ribs with an elbow and nods their head at a mysticism shop. “They bought the property from candlemakers two months ago.”

So Minato made it past his usual time of death. Obito perks up, at that: it’s always kind of fun to see Minato a decade into his Hokageship. It was alarming, the first time, to see him so overworked and /old/, and it’s still kind of sad to look at him if he’s a widower, but the dimensions where Minato is Hokage are usually better than dimensions where Hiruzen is.

That’s not really that hard to do, though, when compared to the guy who lets someone experimenting on Konoha’s clanless orphans go and who allows his old friend to continue recruiting children into an army sealed into obedience to someone other than the military leader of Konoha.

Honestly. Minato would actually have to /try/ to be worse.

- - -

He just /had/ to jinx it, didn’t he?

They’ve entered some weird dimensions, but this one is by far the most unsettling: Minato is Hokage, and that doesn’t actually seem to be a good thing.

As per their usual protocol, Shion and Obito snooped around a bit to check on the status of Konoha before deciding whether or not to approach the current Hokage. Konoha didn’t appear terribly beleaguered, in spite of several important missing chakra signatures (Obito isn’t here, and neither are Rin or Kakashi) and in spite of Orochimaru apparently being a jounin-sensei, so they went, “Eh, looks good enough,” and went and booked a meeting with the Hokage.

Obito is really, really regretting it.

It’s not that Minato thinks they’re actually very terrible spies instead of dimensional travelers. It’s that Minato’s grief is—weird. In most dimensions, where Minato’s ability to demolish an entire army by himself only happens once and only then during a war, Minato carries his grief with him like a smothering shroud, weighing him down. This dimension’s Minato has tapped into the more active side of grief, like it’s a path that he’s digging with other people’s graves.

Minato looks at him like a ghost, like he’s something lost, like he would kill the Shinigami to bring him back. It’s the sort of expression that’s at home on Shion’s face, during their darkest moments, but Obito has only ever seen Minato wear it once, during the Third War and speaking to a gore-covered Shion.

He doesn’t know how to feel about this look being leveled at him now.

“You saved him,” Minato says, to Shion, without taking his eyes off of Obito. “How?”

Obito sneaks a glance at his shishou. It’s a difficult question to answer without sounding callous—/I went back for him/ is tough to swallow when nearly every Minato they’ve met hadn’t.

Shion’s eyes shutter, for a moment, in the barely-longer-than-a-blink way of closing their eyes that Minato does, but it’s the only real sign of their discomfort. “You want to know if there was something you could’ve done,” they say, their voice even, measured. “There wasn’t. You do the same thing, every time.”

Minato’s face does a funny thing, like he wants to make an expression but doesn’t know which, and he rubs his cheek with his palm, finally looking away from Obito. Obito lets out a breath that he didn’t know that he was holding. “And the others?” Minato asks. “Kakashi, Rin—they’re safe, in your timeline?”

“Our timelines diverged much earlier than Kannabi Bridge,” Shion replies after a small pause. “Certain events may remain constant, but the players and outcomes vary.”

Obito has never been in a dimension where all three of Minato’s students die. It’s far more likely that this dimension’s Obito is out there somewhere, plotting the end of the world under the early guidance of Madara, but when he opens his mouth to tell Minato so, something stops him. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Minato—even if this isn’t /his/ Minato, it’s still /a/ Minato—but…

But he has the feeling that if he tells Minato that his dimension’s Obito is still alive, it will be tantamount to signing that Obito’s death warrant.

Minato would never hurt him. He /knows/ that. That doesn’t stop his skin from crawling, and it doesn’t stop his danger-sense from going haywire.

He is a shinobi before he is Minato’s student. He listens to his instincts. So he shuts his mouth and lets Shion keep the lead on this one, because if anyone’s an expert on Minato, even a Minato that lets Orochimaru have a genin team, it’s them.

(He still can’t shake off his anxiety until they are allowed to leave his office.

There is something /wrong/ here, and he is afraid to name it.)

- - -

They’re not slammed into the T&I cells. They’re let go after Minato is done interrogating them, with the implicit knowledge that they will be supervised for the duration of their stay. It’s reasonably lenient; Obito tries to pretend that it isn’t a hidden noose.

In their hotel room, after clearing it to make sure there are no bugs of any variety and slapping down a silencing seal, Shion sinks onto the corner of their bed and puts their face in their hands. Very quietly, they say, “We should have remembered that anyone can be an enemy.”

Obito’s nerves, already frazzled, leap straight to fraying. “But it’s /Minato-sensei/,” he insists, pushing off the chair at the desk to pace. “He can’t—he wouldn’t—”

“Minato does not always arrive on time,” Shion reminds him, “and anyone outside of our timeline is not an ally just because our version of them is.” They run their hands through their hair, fingers meeting at the nape of their neck, and let out a breath before sitting up, hands dropping to their lap. “We’ve gotten complacent. We need to be more thorough about information-gathering. If all three of you are presumed dead in this world…”

Generally, when people are assumed dead, they /are/ dead. Madara and Obito are the only consistent exceptions to that rule. Obito doesn't know how to feel about the idea that Rin or Kakashi might be playing dead, too. "I'll find their files," he says, feeling out their game plan. "It would've had to have been when Rin became a jinchuuriki, so... find out if their bodies were recovered." He pauses, then, with a kind of perverse cheer: "Oh, man, do you think Bakashi joined the Akatsuki with me?" Shion's mouth tugs at the corner. "It's gotta happen /sometime/. Maybe we'll get lucky and that'll be all this is." "Or maybe," Obito continues, "it's Rin who survived and turned me off the track of evildom, and we're, like, wandering monks who help people wherever we go! And we just avoid Konoha because we… didn't have you to get the compulsion seals off our hearts." His enthusiasm dampens, at that, and he sags against the wall. "Oh, man. Alternate versions of myself are so fucked."

“I would assume that an Akatsuki Kakashi and a wandering monk Rin would also be fucked,” Shion remarks, gently teasing. They crook their fingers at him in invitation, and he goes, lying across their lap with a gusty sigh. Shion makes a soft noise of amusement and begins to card their fingers through his hair. “Who knows? Maybe in this dimension, /you’re/ the good guy.”

Obito closes his eyes, tilting his head toward their hand. Kakashi would make fun of him for seeking positive touch, probably, if Kakashi didn’t do the exact same thing when stressed. “Guess I’m a wandering monk with Rin, then. Bakashi would never be able to convince me to be a good person. He /litters/.”

“I don’t think not picking up dog poop is littering.”

“He doesn’t find trash cans for his water bottles.”

“Oh, is /that/ who it is? Saki’s been complaining about the trash in Senju Park. Kakashi’s going to get himself banned if Saki catches him at it.”

Obito lets out a breath and relaxes. They’re going to figure out what to do and get out of Konoha before any traps are sprung. Everything will be fine.

- - -

In this, at least, he isn’t wrong. Over the course of the next few days, he flicks through a bunch of files in several different offices, committing the contents to memory, and all it takes to escape is a Kamui portal opening into a Uchiha safehouse thirty miles outside of Konoha.

He is never going to be able to thank his long-dead ancestors enough for their relentless paranoia. Uchiha safehouses are a /godsend/.

“Bakashi’s body was the only one recovered,” Obito explains. “He was missing his Sharingan, which points to either a very opportunistic thief or, uh, you know, me taking my eye back. It was definitely me, though, ‘cause…” He grimaces. “There’s, uh, research? On Madara’s body? Which was recovered from his super secret cave after it exploded?”

Shion stares at him for a long, uncomprehending moment. “They… Orochimaru has Madara’s body?”

“It’s all sanctioned, too, as far as I can tell,” Obito affirms. “I got the idea that they’re investigating, uh, death? And how to… delay it? Or stop it altogether?”

Shion’s mouth opens, as if to say something, but they close it without speaking. Their brow creases, and they turn to Konoha’s direction.

“Orochimaru took Team Seven to the Land of Waves,” Obito adds, quieter. “They signed out of Konoha the same day we got there.”

That’s a good thing: if Minato is endorsing Orochimaru’s death-defying research, Obito wants Shion to be as far from Orochimaru as possible. Even in other dimensions, where no one would have reason to know of Shion’s kekkai genkai, it worries him that one day someone /will/. The ability to raise the dead and to mold them into any shape they like—it’s a powerful kekkai genkai, and it’s not one that he wants Orochimaru to know of.

Maybe it’s silly, to be anxious about Orochimaru and Shion in the same place, but—their own Orochimaru played with Shion’s kekkai genkai when Shion was a chuunin, younger than Obito is now, and Obito would really like it if that never happened again.

The line of Shion’s shoulders is tense. They press their lips together, hard, before turning their head away from Konoha. “We should go farther before we stop,” they say after a moment.

Obito nods, accepting the unspoken request to move on from this subject, and opens another portal.

- - -

Moving on from Konoha and Orochimaru means that they’re on to this universe’s Obito and Rin, which is—well. Getting information on them would be easy, if they could figure out where to /go/. Neither Obito nor Rin have Shion’s Hiraishin seals inked on their bodies or Minato’s Hiraishin kunai on their bodies, and they have both been outside of Konoha for over a decade.

“This would be so much easier if our Kamuis led to the same dimension,” Obito complains. “We could’ve just hopped in there and waited til he needed something.”

Shion snorts. “Because /that/ sounds like a good idea that wouldn’t get us mauled by his jinchuuriki teammate.”

“I never said it was a good idea,” Obito points out. “I just said it’d be easier.”

“For a given definition of ‘easier’, sure.” Shion rolls their shoulders back and turns back to the map laid out in front of them, the set of their mouth falling into a grimace. “If you were going to avoid Konoha, where would you go?”

“The Dead Wastes,” Obito replies promptly. As a desert and as an oasis, people can go into the Dead Wastes and never come out. It’s pretty much the best spot for a villain lair, though alternate dimension Obitos never seem to think of it. “Failing that… probably Kiri, or I guess one of the smaller nations. Ame is pretty good at taking in fleeing shinobi, isn’t it?”

Shion hums thoughtfully. “It’s known for taking in refugees, yes. Why Kiri?”

Obito can’t say that it’s because the Mizukage is apparently very susceptible to genjutsu, if the various dimensions they’ve traveled to is any indication, which would be incredibly helpful if he ever wanted to make someone of extreme political import his pawn, so he instead says, “Um, obviously if I was a villain I’d want to have a great first appearance. You met a baby Naruto on a mission to Wave, right? And people almost died?” He doesn’t trip over the name of the Land of Waves, but he does frown, a little, remembering that that’s where Orochimaru is. Still: “That’d be such a great scene for villain-me to orchestrate. It’d really hammer home the kind of life a shinobi has. They’d probably cry.”

Shion lifts their head partway through his explanation to level him with an unimpressed look. "What? You /asked/," Obito defends. "I did," Shion agrees dryly, “though I wasn’t expecting such an /effervescent/ response.”

Obito rolls his eyes. “It’s not /my/ fault that I’d make a fantastic villain.”

- - -

It /is/ his fault that they go to Wave.

They travel most of the way through warp, but they make several stops to bury a Hiraishin tag. It provides a sense of security, Shion says, and Obito gets it, sort of: in order to warp using the Hiraishin, an anchor is needed.

After having Minato as his jounin-sensei, and now a few years into his apprenticeship under Shion, Obito is mostly used to them setting down tags like they think they’ll need to warp to a remote village in the Land of Hot Springs.

Mostly.

“It’s like a trail of breadcrumbs,” Obito groans once they hit the edge of Wave and Shion, predictably, puts down another tag. “All anyone has to do to find us is follow the trail of tags.”

“Are you /sure/ you got your tracking certification?” Shion wants to know. “I don’t think putting down a tag every few villages in a vague diagonal really counts as a trail.”

“A vague diagonal is still a diagonal. It’s a pattern. It’s a trail.”

“You seem very concerned that people are going to discover a dozen tags scattered across the Land of Hot Water and immediately realize that we have gone into Wave. We are going to be out of this dimension altogether by the end of the week.”

“We could also be /dead/ by the end of the week because you /put down a trail/.”

“Maybe if /this/ universe’s Obito ever learned to appreciate trails, we wouldn’t be hoping that he will be enough of a twelve-year-old villain to want to make his grand entrance on Zabuza’s coattails.”

Obito throws his hands into the air with a frustrated /augh!/ “Fine! Whatever! I give up! Leave as many trails as you want! Twelve-year-old villain Obito will be alive because he /didn’t/!”

“That is not necessarily a point in his favor, you realize,” Shion says, amused.

Obito jabs a finger at them. “You say that now, but just wait. We’re gonna be trampling everywhere, leaving Hiraishin tags, and he’s gonna sneak up on us and then we’ll be /dead/ because he’ll assume that Orochimaru made, like, test tube clone babies of him or something! /Just wait!/”

- - -

What actually happens is this:

After ten minutes of inspecting the impoverished village, Obito and Shion come to the conclusion that killing the rich and corrupt is a fully acceptable course of action, and after three days of observation of Gato’s men, they make their move—at the same time as this dimension’s Obito and Rin.

All four of them stop several feet from the entrance of Gato’s hideout and stare at each other in surprise.

The adrenaline has to go /somewhere/, so Obito blurts out, without thinking, “Holy shit, you really /are/ wandering monks!” and claps his hands over his mouth.

He is a little horrified at himself, but he’s not /wrong/. This universe’s Obito has /two/ eyes and one of those monk staffs. This universe’s Rin has a sidecut! Some part of his brain makes a note to bring that up to his Rin when they get home, just in case that’s something she’d be into. It looks good on, like, thirty-year-old her, anyway.

“What,” two-eyed Obito says.

“Oh my god,” sidecut Rin whispers, “he’s, like, sixteen.”

“I’m /seventeen/,” Obito corrects automatically. Kakashi and Rin’s birthdays are months before his, so he endures every winter stoically weathering their teasing about being a year younger than them. He /really/ does not want /alternate selves/ to do the same. “Uh—wow. Are you /avenging/ wandering monks? Are you here to kill Gato for being a corrupt piece of shit?”

Hesitantly, sidecut Rin nods. She is wearing one red glove, and pulls at the end of it, yanking it tighter against her fingers. “I assume you were going to do the same?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” Obito confirms. “Cool. Now /this/ is an Obito I can get behind.” He doesn’t /look/ like a villain who wants to destroy the world with the moon. He’s more like the vengeance of the night, sneaking into rich people’s homes to slit their throats while they sleep. Or, he guesses, bludgeoning them with his monk staff.

Shion makes a vague annoyed noise. “I could have sworn I told you not to assume everyone is an ally less than a week ago,” they say, tugging Obito’s sleeve so that he falls back behind them.

He complies, but he huffs about it. “He’s /me/! If I can’t trust myself, who /can/ I trust?”

“Your shishou?” Shion says dryly, which, okay, point.

“Was I ever that peppy in my /life/?” two-eyed Obito whispers to sidecut Rin.

Sidecut Rin leans a little towards him to reply, bemused, “Oh, you /were/. You were /absolutely/ this peppy. Maybe even /worse/.”

“You’re lying,” he accuses her. “I was never that bad. Right? … Right?”

Instead of responding to him, she straightens and, with a clearing of her throat, redirects her attention to Shion and Obito. “We wouldn’t mind your help with Gato, if you’re still interested. Afterwards, we can…” She pauses delicately, sweeping her gaze over Shion (who probably didn’t become a shinobi in this universe) and Obito (who is very recognizably Obito, if a decade younger). “... talk.”

Shion gives them a long look before nodding. “That sounds reasonable.”

Obito sends two-eyed Obito and sidecut Rin a double thumbs-up. Being an avenging wandering monk is a dream that he didn’t even know he had until today, and now he’s /fulfilling it/.

Rin is going to be /so/ jealous when she hears about this.

- - -

Three hours and two dozen dead bodies later, they relocate to two-eyed Obito and sidecut Rin’s camp. It is not especially remarkable, except for how it has a barrier seal and a silencing seal. Sidecut Rin activates both with an ease of familiarity that their Rin lacks; although she wears tags on the strings connecting her overskirt, it still comes as a surprise. Two-eyed Obito nudges the pile of wood in the center of camp with his foot and adds another few branches before blowing fire onto it.

“I /told/ you that looks cool,” Obito tells Shion, feeling strangely satisfied.

Shion rolls their eyes. “I’ll try to be more impressed with your dragon-fire.”

Sidecut Rin smiles briefly, like that exchange is something nostalgic, and gestures for them to take a seat around the fire. “So,” she says, “you look like Obito, you talk like Obito, but this never happened in our past.”

Obito glances at Shion, who shrugs a go-ahead because apparently killing twenty-odd people without turning on each other is enough of a sign that they can be trusted with this much, and shrugs back. “Yeah, our timelines diverged, like, ten years before I was born or something. Tobirama tried to narrow it down to an exact timeframe, but I think he got fed up with the variables and quit.”

“He doesn’t /quit/, he delegates,” Shion corrects. “I think Saki’s cousin is figuring it out now.”

“Right, my mistake.”

“I’m sorry,” Rin says after a pause, “did you say Tobirama?”

“Yep.” Obito nods. They’ve moved easily into Obito’s favorite part of the explanation: the other party’s incredulity, growing until they hit a stage of suspended disbelief. “Senju Tobirama, you know, the Niidaime? Wears the funky faceplate? Looks like he’d sunburn in a second?”

Sidecut Rin and two-eyed Obito exchange a /look/.

“Did… did he not die in your timeline?” two-eyed Obito asks, sounding like he’s regretting the question even as he’s saying it.

“Oh, no, he did,” Obito assures them. “We just brought him back.”

“You what now,” two-eyed Obito says.

He and sidecut Rin exchange another look, longer this time. It’s an entire conversation with only facial expressions: two-eyed Obito’s eyes demand /what the fuck is happening/ and sidecut Rin’s equally agitated stare says /I have no idea, don’t ask me, ask your sixteen-year-old self/. This is, apparently, not what two-eyed Obito wants to hear, because he lets out a breath and runs a gloved hand through his hair.

“Okay, say that we believe you,” two-eyed Obito says, even though it’s obvious that they kind of do. “Why are you /here/? Are you avenging wandering dimension-travelers?”

Obito’s eyes widen. He turns to look hopefully at Shion.

“No,” Shion denies immediately, then amends, “Not until you’re a jounin. /I’m/ not going to be an avenging dimension-traveler, but you can take Tobirama along with you when you’re a jounin.”

Obito pumps his fist into the air. “Yesss. He’s gonna /love/ kicking Madara’s ass again.”

“So you travel dimensions… regularly?” two-eyed Obito tries to clarify.

Obito pulls a card out of his pouch and hands it over. On one side it says KONOHA’S TIME-SPACE DIVISION, with the members’ names below, and on the other side it lists major events that may make it differ from other dimensions.

“No Kyuubi Attack, no Naruto,” sidecut Rin reads aloud from over two-eyed Obito’s shoulder. “All members of Team Minato are…” Her voice trails off, and she reads the rest of the card in silence.

Two-eyed Obito’s eyes flash red, for a moment, possibly checking for genjutsu but maybe memorizing the contents of the card. He looks over at Obito and Shion, mouth pulling downward in a frown. “So you’re… Iekami Shion? I’ve never heard of you.”

Shion lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “I’m usually a civilian or a member of ROOT.”

“Of… what?” sidecut Rin asks.

Obito breathes out an “oh, /man/” and laughs. “Wow. It feels really weird, now, to talk to someone from Konoha who doesn’t know about ROOT. It’s, like, Shimura Danzo’s underground army? He steals kids from orphanages and from their clan grounds and, like, brainwashes them.”

“What,” two-eyed Obito says flatly.

Obito looks at Shion. “You explain. You’re better at it than I am.”

Shion elbows him in the ribs. “You won’t get better if you keep passing it off to me.”

“I’m still your apprentice! You’re /obligated/ to take over when I’m in over my head!”

“/Itachi/ could do this, and he’s /eight/. Do you really want to be outdone by an eight-year-old?”

“That doesn’t count! He’d be a genin if he was allowed to graduate!”

“Am I supposed to agree that a genin should be better at giving reports than a jounin hopeful?”

“Well, when you put it like /that/…” Obito groans. “Okay, jeez. Turning on serious mode.” He takes in a breath and composes his expression into what he has termed his Serious Face, which looks a lot like Minato when Minato has his hands folded in front of his mouth and his elbows on his desk. “Shion-shishou was supervising my sealwork, since I was fiddling with dimensions—I’ve been trying to translate Kamui into sealwork, which is /so hard/, you have /no idea/—and, like usual, I fucked up and we landed in this dimension…”

#noriwritey #shionverse #turtle au #naruto #obito makes the 'konoha's time-space division' cards himself. sometimes he looks at all the shit he has to put on the back and just goes #'wow. life's really fucked up huh.'#kakashi (who has had to sit thru yrs of minato & shion's space-time shenanigans & now has to deal w obito's too): *sighs* it sure is #shion and obito are apparently physically incapable of not bickering or bantering with each other #it's even worse with kakashi in the mix #but . yeah. turtle au obito and rin listen to obito's entire long and embellished tale #(which includes a tangent abt the evils of man- and alienkind. turtle au obito nods along like yes u are so right #plant monsters are in fact the devil)#and if they end it without even once being like 'wow i want to adopt you plz be an avenging wandering monk w us' i will eat my hat #this also assumes that root is uh. a konoha secret? so people who left konoha wldnt know abt it if they didnt know before they left #what good is a secret underground army if its not actually secret ya kno #plz ask us about our aus we love them #i left this open-ended because. well. obito wld absolutely love to be an avenging wandering monk.#shion: we ? need to go back ? to our own universe ????#obito: then we just need to make sure we can come back *starts working on a seal to pin down this singular dimension*

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jennamoran · 5 years

Text

The Horizon Campaign (10)

Link to the Chuubo’s Marvelous Wish-Granting Engine RPG, on DriveThru

Link to Fortitude: the Glass-Maker’s Dragon, on DriveThru

Let’s talk some more about the Horizon campaign(s)!

Previously,

we built some connections between prospective Main Characters and Egyptian deities.

Then, we looked at what characters the campaign would have to have, pulled some out into a possible secondary campaign, and worked on assigning starting Arc colors.

Then, we explored some possible new characters for the secondary campaign, including the Mystery Typhon… but even after two different takes on her, we weren’t quite there.

Then, we finalized something like a concept there and looked at gender-balancing the default versions of our sets of eight characters.

Then, we assigned Arc colors and archetypes to the characters in the secondary campaign, and started talking about Rinley’s first story in that campaign.

Then we made a first stab at that story … and failed!

So we tried again!

and then did a couple more Rinley stories

and a couple more ...

and took a brief break to sum up what we had.

It’s time to poke at what the quest set for these stories would look like!

Recurring Patterns

The “first quest” in all of these storylines is, uh …

Quest A (Otherworldly 1)

OK, so novels 1-2 have a defined first quest:

Rinley comes to Horizon to investigate metaphysics, finds people who are lost from some phenomenon, finds out how to help that, finds their housing.

The Lightless Crown ... on my first pass through this, the pass where I had a migraine, it was pretty vague. It’s better defined now, but the first time I got this far, all I really had was “Rinley in Horizon, and someone who depends on them (if not necessarily in Horizon).”

And looking at how that fits in here, I thought:

I can sort of feel out the shape of ... the generalization into ... Rinley encounters a new kind of troubled people, and sort of, gets to know a new kind of situation? Maybe?

And that seemed to work for The Grey Internship and Curiosity too.

So that’s the quest’s high concept. “You encounter a new kind of troubled people, and feel out a new situation.”

Needs some work, but it’s there.

What Kind of Quest is That?

“You encounter a new kind of troubled people, and feel out a new situation” is obviously potentially Blue 2.

Um. ...

Knight: You can make an argument that it’s Knight 3. I don’t like that, though, because Knight 3 ends with you going back to where you were.

It could also plausibly fit as Knight 4-5 but I’m hesitant to put “arrives at Horizon” so late in an Arc—I worry that story structure might strain under that.

(Spoiler: I eventually got over that.)

... let’s put a pin in Knight 4-5 there, though, because it’s possible.

Particularly since Knight 4 is one of the quests that gives Ticket, which is suitable, right?

So do Aspect 2, Shepherd 3, and Mystic 1.

I guess Connection to a place also works as a suitable reward for Rinley Yatskaya and the Grey Malaise, which ... would technically mean Knight 2 could work. I don’t think this is a good Knight 2 quest. But maybe?

Storyteller: Looking at the rewards and result also tells me that this is a good Storyteller 2 quest, which—y’know, that really does seem to fit.

Except, it bugs me, because, what’s the Storyteller 1?

... but that’s easier to solve than the Knight 4 thing.

I mean, if you make this quest a Knight 4 quest, you might not even get to it in the first storyline. Which is weird, because it’s the prologue, the thing that sets things up.

Storyteller 2, at least, you know, you get there?

Aspect: It’s a bit more strained, but this quest concept could work as Aspect 1. By “a bit more strained,” I mean that the feel changes some, but ... like, the concept of what’s going on doesn’t? You’re more likely to get a mentor connection than a place connection, but w’evs.

It could also arguably be Aspect 2.

Or Aspect 3, but I love Aspect 3’s quest result and it’s wasteful to use it up here.

I didn’t want to make this a Shepherd Arc, but it’s hard to deny that it works as a Shepherd 1 quest.

Emptiness: I wasn’t feeling this budding quest set as an Emptiness Arc, even though I wanted it to be. But, hm.

I did mention a lot of grey, didn’t I?

And there is explicitly “finding a Shelter” as the result of Emptiness 2, so uh ...

Mystic: There’s something profoundly Mystic about this Arc as a whole but it’s not clear where this fits.

I think I’m going to say Mystic 1, because the first novel sort of ends in a shrine-magic miracle?

Summarizing

The first quest—well, “first”—looks to be some subset of Otherworldly 1, Bindings 2, Storyteller 2, Shepherd 1, Aspect 1-2, Emptiness 2, Mystic ... 1, Knight ... 4-5?

Other than “we haven’t really narrowed down colors much,” it’s worth note that it’s often quest 2. This is meaningful:

We can expect that on a lot of Arcs, there’s another quest before this.

In the first story, which is a combination of Rinley Yatskaya and the Grey Malaise and Ouroboros House, that preliminary quest might be where Rinley actually meets their friend from the Near Outside, inciting them to travel to School to learn more about what’s going on. The quest would still be in Horizon, because of the need to interact with the PCs, but it might not be in School. Or they might be in School, but just not be a serious student until this “first” quest.

Quest B (Otherworldly 2)

So this is a quest that’s going to recur four times.

First, after Rinley finds housing in Horizon ... they are getting introduced to Ouroboros House, and its aesthetic and philosophy. They’re settling in, and doing well, but also getting into a lot of trouble and facing a lot of pressure to not be there.

Second, after Rinley’s felt out the broader Horizon environment in the Lightless Crown, and/or maybe some new part of the Outside, there’s a sense that something’s missing, and rumors of the crowning and the gathering of horrors, and their not wanting to deal with that.

Third, after Rinley’s gotten into the internship/news desk/time travel thing in the Grey Internship, they have to start working with Shichiji to keep the timeline on track.

Finally, after the introduction to the catering committee, Rinley has to cope with the stress of working with Owler, possibly trying out several failed escapes.

On an Otherworldly Arc, those are the parts of the five novels that represent Otherworldly 2.

Common Factors

So there’s this recurring theme, I think, which is:

You came here to have a good time, and you’re feeling so attacked right now?

Um.

Put another way:

A situation you belong in, except, there’s a big stressor trying to push you out.

Storyteller: This is an even better Storyteller 2, TBH.

... but the previous quest, "Quest A,” can’t be Storyteller 1. Can it ... can quest A be Storyteller 3? Can you have a Storyteller Arc where you do ... something. Then, you hang out in Ouroboros House, facing the pressure. Then, you poke around Horizon and find people who are lost and such?

Maybe?

I guess quest B could be 4-5, but it seems to work better at 2.

Hmm.

Aspect: There’s a pervasive sense of teamwork tied to this quest. You’re integrating with Ouroboros House. You’re … sensing something’s missing, that’s not teamworky. Then, you’re working with Shichiji. Then you’re doing committee stuff.

Aspect 2-3ish. More 2, I think, than 3.

The Rest: Otherworldly 2, of course.

Knight 2. Bindings ... 1?

Shepherd 2, Emptiness 3, Mystic 4.

Quest C (Otherworldly 3)

The next quest is probably heavily focused on an Outside journey/adventure.

The first time you do it, it’s Rinley’s stories of their travels to plant something in the Outside.

The second time, it’s not obvious that they travel into the Outside; at the very least, there are stories about it. But probably they actually start traveling into it. Because this is about Called Away, and so I don’t think being stingy with “actually going out there” is right.

The third time, this quest—as an Otherworldly 3 quest—is going to be, a lot, about Principal Entropy I’s influence on Rinley. It’s going to be about the struggle against that corruption.

The fourth time, it’s attempts to trap Owler, probably involving events in Outside venues.

So it’s broader than “Outside journey,” but it’s, like, “concerning yourself with something beyond the world.” Whether that concern is stories of the travel, or travel, or gathering rumors, or fighting off corruption, or planning events.

It’s also definitely a very ... event-studded quest? By which I mean, it’s not a background quest, it’s a quest with a lot of flashy important days and stuff. Big moments. High-budget and high concept. A bit impressed with itself. You know?

It’s going to be an Otherworldly 3 quest, so there’s generally going to be a pressure on the self during this time. You’re concerning yourself in a high-minded fashion with something beyond the world, while something is kind of punching your identity.

So your concern is, most likely, in turn, to resolve that threat.

That’s what I see as going on at this place in the four “novels” that it would show up in.

Colors

Probably Bindings 3. Maybe 4.

Probably Knight 3. Maybe 4.

This seems like Storyteller 5, although that runs the risk of getting through the first Arc without ever going into the Outside. ... but I guess it would be a Storyteller Arc, not an Otherworldly Arc, so that would arguably be fine?

Aspect 1, 3, and 4 seem plausible.

Shepherd 3-4.

Emptiness 2 or 4, maybe?

Mystic ... 5? 2? 3?

Quest D (Otherworldly 4)

This is a quest that’s expected to occur for the first time in The Lightless Crown.

Rinley follows the track of what was taken from them deep into the grey malaise, and find themselves there.

It recurs in The Grey Internship. It’s probably, again, about recovery.

It recurs a final time in Curiosity, where it’s ... probably ... more attempts to deal with Owler?

I think the Otherworldly 4 interpretation is dominant. This quest is just about recovering the self. It’s also probably focused on distant places, but more importantly, shadowed places. Quiet, scary places. Infected places.

In Owler’s shadow. In Principal Entropy I’s shadow. In the grey malaise.

Colors

I’m starting to get skeptical of Bindings. This could be 5, I guess. Could be 4. Not a great fit.

It could be Knight 4. Maybe 2, maybe 5.

Otherworldly 4, of course.

Storyteller: I think it has to be Storyteller 5. (If it’s a Storyteller quest at all.) There are arguments to be made but Storyteller 5 is the one that leads to an Alternate Form. Storyteller 5 is the one where you can be torn between loyalties. Storyteller 5.

The only option is Storyteller 3, but it’s a bad one.

Colors (Cont.)

There’s a strong thematic argument for Aspect 1, in that one version of this quest has Rinley find Rinley sealed in crystal. There’s a stronger argument for 5.

Shepherd is tricky. 3 is closest. I guess 2 & 4 are OK.

This could be Emptiness 4, 1, or 5.

Quest E (Otherworldly 5)

Finally, we close out the last two "novels” with ... probably a solid theme of unification, of bringing the two worlds together.

The Grey Internship ends, I think, with freeing Principal Entropy I from a false existence, despite not really wanting to help him.

Curiosity ends with becoming one with Owler.

I think both are about the reconnection of broken worlds. The past and present. The split Outside.

Colors

Bindings 4, perhaps. 1 or 3, at a stretch.

It’s a solid Knight 5. Or 4.

It’s a good Storyteller 4.

It can be Aspect 1, but that’s just weird. 4, or 5?

It’s an acceptable Shepherd 5.

It’s a good Emptiness 5.

Summing Up

Let’s give these quests some working titles so that referring to them will be a bit less awkward!

Who Got Lost People in my New Situation?

Feeling So Attacked Right Now

Very Concerned About Faraway Things Despite Being Eaten

Let’s Recover in a Shadow World Spa

Unification

... Which Seems Like a Good Place To Break

... but I’m planning to be back tomorrow!

#cmwge #patreon-supported posts #the horizon campaign #rinley yatskaya

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sargenthouse · 6 years

Text

Dylan Carlson Photos + Interview // RCRD Magazine

DYLAN CARLSON

Interview and photos by Dominic Goodman via RCRD Magazine

I understand you moved around a lot growing up. Were you influenced musically by the places you visited or even just in a more general cultural way?

Yeah I mean my Dad worked for the department of defence, so I guess sort of an army brat in a weird way. Not in the military, I guess a child of the military industrial complex. As soon as we were born we left Seattle for Philadelphia and then from Philadelphia to New Mexico, then New Mexico to Germany and then we moved three times within Germany and then back to the States where we lived in Texas and then New Jersey and then back to Washington. My grandmother was Scottish. She came over to the States right after the war. We still had relatives living in Scotland so when we lived over in Germany we used to visit our relatives in Scotland quite a bit. My Dad worked for the military but wasn’t in the military, except for one year, so we didn’t live on bases, we lived out and about. We did go to U.S. schools but apart from that my parents definitely took advantage of the fact that we lived overseas and travelled a lot. Unlike, I remember there was a Sergeant that worked for my dad and he was proud of the fact that in his five years of being stationed overseas he had never left the base, never eaten outside the NCO club, didn’t know any German, you know, complete isolationist just waiting to get shipped back home basically. It was really strange, that kind of mentality of being somewhere that had so much to offer and just basically ignoring it.

Did you feel like you picked up on those cultures as you were moving around?

Yeah, definitely, we travelled a lot during school breaks and stuff like that. My dad had friends who were, you know… there was this one couple that were my parents friends. He was French but in the US Air Force and had a German wife Then our friend Peter, he had a German wife so they lived outside the base, they didn’t live in the enclaves. I guess nowadays you couldn’t get away with that.

Were you interested in music at that stage?

Music was sort of ever present in the house just because of my parents being of the generation they were. I guess you could say I grew up listening to a lot of my parent’s music. When we were like five as part of our Easter egg hunt we got the first Allman Brother record as a prize. I grew up listening to a lot of Bob Dylan and The Band, I guess what they would call ‘Classic Rock’ now. My Mum’s best friend’s husband was a big Zeppelin fan and Blue Oyster Cult fan, so sort of like through osmosis I picked up a lot of music. Once we moved back to the States when I was in Junior High, at about 11, I could start buying music myself or at least wanted to buy music myself. That’s when I guess I gravitated towards… my first record was an AC/DC record, that’s when I started getting into hard rock and heavy metal I guess. What they called heavy metal back then, now of course it would be called something entirely different because of the micro-genres.

What kind of age did you begin to play or start to want to play?

It’s funny, I guess the first time was the moment I heard AC/DC, that was when I wanted to start playing. I didn’t quite figure out that you could play until a few years later, so I guess it was about 4 or 5 years of wanting to play before realising ‘oh I actually could play’.

Would that have been with friends? Did you form bands with friends at that time?

Not right off the bat, I mean right off the bat I just wanted a guitar and got a guitar and started learning to play and learning to write songs. It was weird because later, as I met people who played guitar, most of them spent most of their time learning to play other people’s stuff and I never really went that route. I just started trying to write songs from the get go, which, sometimes I regret not learning how to play other people’s stuff at the same time. For some reason it seemed like instead of learning to play Stairway to Heaven I should just learn how to write a song.

Obviously around that period of time, around Seattle, so much great music was being created. Do you think that there was something happening or a cultural aspect that enabled that, or just chance and a knock on effect from one band to another?

I think it’s a combination of things. Ultimately I think it’s the fact that you have an area where there’s not a lot going on. I can still remember the very first article on Seattle that was in NME and the description of Seattle was: “An obscure West Coast seaport”. I think the fact that Seattle wasn’t LA, or New York or one of those kind of places where people looked for things to happen it kind of created this blank slate for things to happen. Once people saw that there’s people doing things and it’s like getting noticed then more people wanted to start doing stuff. It kind of builds from there. I don’t think anyone set out to be like “Seattle is going to be the cultural nexus of rock music for the 90s”.

Was it exciting to be a part of that scene or was it frustrating that it very quickly had so much attention focused on it?

It’s weird, I mean at the time, you don’t really notice that’s going on so much. It’s just sort of like, stuff is happening and you see other bands doing stuff and they’re getting noticed and other bands aren’t. At least from my perspective it’s not a very conscious thing, it just kind of happens and some people are able to take advantage of it and other people aren’t.

I’m interested in the sound that you and Earth have It seemed to sort of be there from the outset and yet you’ve managed to integrate that into different styles while still keeping this very idiosyncratic sound. Was that sound for you something that was very instinctual or was it something that developed through a number of years as you were beginning to play music?

I guess it would have to be sort of an instinctual sound, choosing to do it in a specific way….

Your guitar sound has certainly influenced lots of people. It’s instantly recognizable in the context of Earth but you have also been able to integrate it into a lot of different styles sometimes not always expected.

It’s funny I look back on the old days and where I was very equipment specific and “oh I need this” or “oh I need that” and now it’s like, I’ve sort of realized that I don’t really need any of those to do it.

Because it’s coming more from you than the equipment?

It’s not the gear, I mean, there is certain gear that makes it easier but ultimately, regardless of what I’m given, it’s going to be me that it comes out of. It’s not based on what I’m using.

Going back to the early days, specifically Earth 2 feels like a very daring record in it’s simplicity. Did it feel like that at the time it first came out? What was the reaction to it at that time?

Well, yeah. Earth 2 definitely was the most conceptual album. At the time it was like, what’s the maximum amount of time we have for a CD? which was like 73 minutes, so it was like, let’s fill up all 73 minutes. Again we ran into another problem which was that at the time you could only get a half an hour reel on a recording tape hence it had to be broken up into three parts. Conceptually that was intended to be the extreme of what technology could handle so that is what we wanted to use.

How did people react to that when it came out?

It’s funny now that it’s gotten this patent of ‘oh it’s such an amazing record, blah, blah, blah”. Obviously there were a few people who liked it but ultimately when it was first pressed there were 2,000 copies pressed and it took 3 years to sell those 2,000 copies. It was certainly not a popular record [laughs].

You talking about Earth 2 being the most conceptual, it seems in a way that all your records feel quite conceptual. Is that something you think about before you even start writing or do you begin writing a record and it just develops in that way?

I think nowadays, they’re much less that way. Originally I used to have notebooks of song titles. I’d write music and eventually I’d go through and be like “Oh this song title works for this piece” whereas nowadays the music comes a lot faster than any kind of song title.

Regarding Earth, do you put in time where you say “we’re going to write” or is it just an ongoing collaborative process?

I’m always writing stuff. Some of it will be an Earth song, some will be something else, so yeah it’s not compartmentalised. It’s not like “now I’m writing an Earth record” or “now I’m writing this record”. I’m just writing and I think this might be good for an Earth song or this one might be good for something else.

You’ve obviously got a very strong understanding within the band when you’re playing. Are the tracks very structured before you play live or is there a lot of improvisation going on?

I’d say there’s a lot of improvisation. There’s like certain riffs and those riffs can vary the number of times they’re repeated.

So there’s a general structure and you just work around that? Is that the same with when you’re recording?

It depends upon the song, recording wise some of the songs are more structured than others.

You mentioned about you having ancestry from the British isles. Is knowing that something that drew you back here or do you think it was something in your genes that you connected with?

I think it’s definitely something I was aware of.

You visited Scotland growing up?

Yeah we visited Scotland and England quite a bit when I was younger.

And (your interest) in the folk aspect?

I guess that came later.

The origins of the background to some of those songs? Did you do some research on that side of things?

Yeah luckily, you know, there’s Cecil Sharpe House and Child Ballads those are quite a bit of information available on the history of that, which was quite helpful.

I’m interested in The Bug collaboration and how that came around. On paper I couldn’t really of envisaged it but in reality it works so seamlessly.

That happened kind of like out of pure serendipity. Simon Fowler, who’s illustrated a number of Earth album covers has also done a number of Bug album covers, so I guess was the catalyst.

In terms of you guys meeting each other?

Yeah, Kevin [Martin] was aware of my work from back when he was a rock journalist. He’d been given an Earth2 record to review back in the day. I guess he must have kept tabs on what I was up to…

So he approached you with a concept for a project?

Yeah, originally he was doing this ‘Angels & Devils’ record and he wanted me to play guitar on a couple of the tracks and then for whatever reason it ended up becoming separate tracks. We ended up doing two 12” and keeping it separate from the record. We’d done a few shows together at the behest of Ninja Tune, and he was like ‘Oh why don’t we do a full record instead of just a 12”’ so we did that and the response has been really overwhelmingly positive.

Were you familiar with The Bug before?

It’s weird, I wasn’t as familiar with his music as he was with mine. I went through a period of time in the late 90s, during my – what do you call it – ‘silent era’? where I got quite into Jungle and stuff. I mean I’ve always been a big dub reggae fan so I guess it grew out of that. That’s where the interest came from.

So you were listening to more contemporary electronic music?.

Yeah, I mean, there’s music that I love and listen to a lot but there’s also music that….I mean, I think there is good music within every realm, I don’t think anyone has an exclusive hold on what’s good music and what’s bad music. There’s certain genre’s where it’s harder to find good music but.. [laughter]

Do you feel like you’ve gone through periods of time where you’ve listened to different genres in that sense?

Yeah, I mean I try not to. To me genres are kind of marketing tools, marketing gimmicks.

You mentioned that hiatus period when you weren’t putting any records out and then you came back. Was Hex the first record after you came back?

It was the first I guess that was [a proper album]. We’d done a live record: “Living in the Gleam of an Unsheathed Sword” and some other recordings but they were all live.

Was there a catalyst at that point where you thought it’s time to get back to creating?

Weirdly enough that time I started playing guitar again just because I wanted to play again, I didn’t set out to either restart Earth or restart guitar to be noticed.

You were just drawn back to it without any particular reason?

There was no plan to redo Earth or even necessarily to perform as Earth again.

Now, moving forward is your plan to continue with another Bug album, or work on your own stuff? Are there other plans for more?

I recorded a solo record in May of last year that’ll be out soon. We’re going to do another Earth record there’s no date yet for it or anything, but we’ve been writing it and we’ll see what’s up with it…

Dylan Carlson’s new album Conquistador is available now – HERE

#Dylan Carlson #Earth #Conquistador #RCRD Magazine #Sargent House

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rylantrai204-blog · 4 years

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Wild Animals Exclusion Using One

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mychemicalrant · 6 years

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Jobs Part 3

(Parts One and Two of my job history and analysis here.)

Back to my job history and why I feel that being on the spectrum has influenced my ability to hold and succeed at jobs:

Here’s the story of how I got my first office job, a job that involved managing inventory and customers for a rental company. It was a phone job. Let me tell you how I got a phone job, because it wasn’t by personal choice.

It all started from a pagan meetup group I was attending at the time. The host of this group had what I considered a surprisingly boring day job: he was a manager at a local office for a rental company. It struck me as an odd choice but it paid the bills, which is all that matters I guess?

This pagan group did a lot for me socially and spiritually. One night I was telling the host about my job history, my struggles, and my skills. He remarked, “I have some hours available this summer. You should work for me!”

I balked. This job was 45 minutes and several towns away from where I lived. That meant I would have to be driven to and from this job which would be an added inconvenience. But my friend reassured me that I more than qualified, it sounded like. “You’ll just manage inventory, take a few phone calls once in awhile. It’s easy; you’ll see!”

After some encouragement and support I swallowed my fears and went to work for him. TL;DR story after the cut.

When my friend, an ENTJ 8w7, said “take a few phone calls once in awhile” what he meant was take over 100 calls on a busy day. The job was basically a call center job, which meant that taking and making calls was practically the whole job. He neglected to mention that, because his energy and enthusiasm for directive extroversion meant he didn’t see any problem with this. Within months my ability to socialize and do anything other than the work-home cycle diminished because all I had the spoons for were necessities.

Here was the structure of the job: be hooked into the VoIP system to take all incoming calls from customers calling about their orders; make calls to customers informing them of their orders; manage incoming and outgoing equipment; manage daily reports; handle legal recovery issues (such as when equipment was stolen or involved in a crime). What that meant was that we were expected to do reports and match inventory to customer orders, all while being constantly interrupted by PhOnE cALLs!!!

The second day I came into the office my boss put me on the phones. I had no idea what I was doing or what to say, but he assured me that calls usually followed a particular pattern and once I learned the pattern the calls would become easier.

He was right about that, but there was another element. The nature of our job meant that while most calls followed a pattern, every day we’d get a weird thing that would come up so infrequently we’d have to find a new solution for it. That meant that any call could be an entirely new, unprecedented situation that I would have no idea how to handle, and the anxiety of facing these situations caused me so much stress I wanted to die. My heart pounded while I sat at my desk waiting for calls to come in. I stayed awake at night dreading the next shift. I could barely cope. I cried and started drinking in earnest to deal with the stress. I considered suicide.

I spent three and a half torturous years at this job before I was finally able to quit.

Here’s the thing. Rule number one of CBT/ERP: face the cause of anxiety head on and over time the anxiety will diminish. Never, for one moment in those three and a half years, did my anxiety diminish. I sweated over every little change in my schedule and hours (my boss kept it as consistent as he could for me, though). I agonized over each shift. I’d have several days off in a row and would spend them fretting over going back. I lived my life in terror of that job. I slowly lost my energy and then lost my friends. I didn’t have the energy to socialize anymore. My pagan meetup group fell by the wayside and I was glad to see it go, despite how much I had loved it once. I just couldn’t anymore.

I’m not going to do a timeline of when things happened and how, because there was no specific event so much as patterns that developed. I’ll describe each instance and the challenge it presented to me, as well as how this all started to add up to something bigger.

The phone calls:

The phone calls were not our only task, so they ran in the background of what we were supposed to be doing. That meant being balls deep in a report and being INTERRUPTED over and over. That meant dropping everything you were working on to take a call and deal with some new problem. That meant taking call after call after call, regardless of whether you were finished saving or editing the last customer’s order. That meant taking so many calls sometimes that it was all you did that day.

I didn’t even realize I was doing it until it was pointed out by coworkers, but I’d groan in frustration every time my phone rang. It was so aggravating and disrupting. I made a conscious effort not to groan out loud but it’d slip through sometimes anyway. It was a small office and no one really cared but these popcorn phone calls were just so frustrating and I never got over that.

The ENRAGED customers:

This was the first thing you’d notice about the job. Our customers were angry. I mean about-to-lose-their-house-mother-is-dying-tweaking-hard angry. We served a poor, drug heavy population and basically screwed them over by making promises we couldn’t keep. We overbooked on too little equipment again and again and again. It was my job to offer “alternatives” and to get SCREAMED AT by frothing customers every day. I took severe verbal beatings which did nothing to help my trauma from growing up with verbal/mental/emotional child abuse. The stress of having to solve everyone’s problems ate at me. I don’t even need to tell you how fucked up and toxic this was. And you know what? Companies make their money promising you shit they can’t deliver. They overbook on purpose and make it sound like you’ll get what you want. You won’t. Anyway, verbal abuse, toxic environment. I’ll move on.

Shifting Expectations:

Our local offices had a special problem regarding inventory management that was entirely out of our control. Despite the fact that the company was working on solving the problem and trying to help us with our California drought, so to speak, each week I’d come into the office with a new and arbitrary directive, sometimes contradicting other directives we also needed to focus on. This could be things like:

-Moving certain pieces of equipment around to get them maintenance updates

-Focusing on moving certain pieces of equipment that had been sitting around for too long

-Making a certain number of new customer orders

-District “contests” where we’d compete with other local offices to meet some stupid corporate carrot-stick goal

Each time we were expected to drop everything else and focus on this stupid directive, even if it meant ignoring other things we were supposed to be doing. Because, for a corporation, all that matters is Profit and whatever stupid protocol they want to try out that minute to increase sales.

But my least favorite thing was the “warm calls” we had to do.

This entailed finding the information of a potential client who had signed up online or called for information, calling them back, and finalizing the booking they were “obviously” interested in.

I HATED doing these. More than anything.

I did maybe 30 of them in the entire three and a half years I worked there. You were expected to do 10-20 a day if it was slow. My boss thought all I needed to do was get the hang of hooking the sale by making them want to buy, but whenever a customer said they weren’t interested I said okay and let them go. I didn’t get it. I didn’t want to get it. I hated doing these! The thought of selling anything made my skin crawl and was not what I thought my job description was.

My boss wasn’t really hard on me about this and let my lack of warm call counts slide, but every once in awhile Corporate would have a bug up its ass about how we needed to hustle hustle hustle on these and we’d have to pretend to do them for a week or so before giving up and ignoring them again.

So, in sum:

-Soft sales calls that “potential” customers hated.

-Inconsistent directives and expectations from corporate that changed every week.

-Mixed signals from my supervisors who both seemed to hate these arbitrary directives yet enthusiastically enforce them, but...arbitrarily.

The verbal component:

My job was, as you can guess, primarily an auditory one. Now, I didn’t know what was wrong with me at the time, but I think I have trouble hearing? Like, I failed two hearing screen tests in school, both taken in a busy crowded room. Each time I was pulled into the nurse’s office and made to take the tests again in a quiet room by myself. I passed and was let go. Throughout my life, I have been accused of having “selective hearing” and only hearing what I want to hear, except that I don’t get to choose what I hear? In a busy room my hearing pings around and latches onto whatever it chooses, not what I want to hear. My boss would sometimes speak instructions to me and I would hear garbled nonsense, even when I asked him to repeat himself. I miss a lot of what’s spoken to me. I rewind shows and movies if I miss a part, so now I watch with the closed captioning on. I have to see it to get it.

Now I think this might be Auditory Processing Disorder. I was not formally diagnosed with this, but when my hearing was tested almost two decades ago I don’t think they were looking for it and I’ve never went in for a formal screening.

Anyway. This caused a problem for me because my boss, a directive and fully capable extrovert, would typically rely on auditory instruction. He also had a bad habit of barking into my other ear while a customer was talking to me.

“Hello, I had a question about my order but--”

“Who is that on the phone? What do they want?”

“--it seems like they didn’t--”

“Tell them we can’t take their call right now, we have another thing to focus on and you’ll call them back--”

“--but when I was taking a look at it--”

“Tell them we’re busy and we’ll call back--

ARGH! SHUT UP! I’d drop every fucking marble when this happened. And then my boss would be irritated that I wasn’t able to follow his instructions or that I was seemingly obstinate. Whenever a customer or vendor called to leave a message for someone else, as soon as I hung up the phone my boss would demand information and I’d...blank. What did he say his name was? Where did he say he was calling from? If I didn’t write it down I’d forget every time. I could not seem to retain verbal information easily.

Also, my boss would often tell us what to say instead of taking the call for us if it was something we’d need a supervisor’s help with, or he’d tell us what to say as he walked us through training but not tell us why we were saying it. He didn’t think we needed the why, only the what, and that we’d synthesize the why on our own later like he would. I could never learn that way and it was very frustrating for both of us. He acted like I was slow and difficult for not picking things up faster.

Another obvious issue was that when the office got busy, such as during busy times with high demand, I found it difficult to hear my customers with all the background noise going on. I’d have to press the earpiece into my ear to get by.

The microbullying:

So, here comes the social component. With an office came the office politics, and I was unprepared for the special torture that is a room full of gossipy girls (and my boss, who was a “mean girl” type). My gender dysphoria was on full blast and I felt like a disgusting alien. I wanted to disappear. Instead of doing that, I spent a lot of time analyzing what was wrong with me, because if I didn’t know there was something wrong with me from the years of abuse, bullying, and isolation I’ve experienced, I found out here.

It was subtle at first. Girls complaining about other girls and their work performance. My boss surrounding himself with girls who were catty, petty, and mean spirited. My boss and these girls giggling because they understood female social norms and fashions. Everyone making fun of people for their bodies: cankles, bread loaves (what the fuck even are those and why would you notice something like that??), someone wearing the wrong shirt for the body type, etc. Once I came in with a bathroom shave job and my boss said, “Why wouldn’t you get it shaped professionally?”

Uh...??? Because I don’t care? Because that involves people fucking touching me? Because it costs money and me shaving my head myself is free?

These girls had nothing in common with me. I’d sit there awkwardly trying to make conversation about my subjects of interest and they would be polite, but as soon as the room filled out with more of us the room turned into a boring long conversation about parties and fucking and drinking and baby daddy issues and kids. I felt like a fucking alien.

People laughed at me. It was all in good fun, good-natured teasing and ribbing over my silly habits like storing a drawer full of snacks (eating was a stim for me and I had to do it in that environment because I was so anxious all the time) or sanitizing my desk or rubbing lotion only on the backs of my hands since I can’t stand the sensation of grease on my skin.

The other males at this job were entirely nice and made the job tolerable. But there was one in particular who had all the classic markings of an undiagnosed Aspie. In other words, he was exactly like me. Type 5, extremely intelligent but asked a lot of questions and needed a lot of reassurance/clarification; prone to bouts of frustration; never made direct eye contact; very awkward. I made it my business to try shooting a few of my Special Interest topics at him to see if any of them took. None of them did. The problem was, we have entirely different Special Interests and thus no subjects in common.

My attempts to engage with him left me bored and frustrated, but it ignited something entirely different in him. Within a few months I had a note from him in my inbox. I told him I couldn’t date but I’d meet for coffee as friends and we did.

This became a full on office campaign to get the two of us together. I couldn’t explain it but my intuition was screaming do not do it. This person made me feel so tense for reasons I couldn’t (and can’t) explain, other than that some of his Special Interests are my trauma triggers. That one’s pretty obvious. But by all accounts, he was kind, decent, understanding, intelligent, and very interested in me despite my issues.

So now I was feeling pressured by both this person and my office to date when I didn’t want to. You may consider this a form of workplace harassment or sexual harassment (for the record, the person in question was respectful of my needs; it was the others in the office who were the problem). They tortured him over his “inability” to get me or get over me, and me over my unwillingness to “just fuck him already.” They wouldn’t take my concerns or feelings seriously. They gaslit me and told me I couldn’t possibly trust my own intuition and feelings on the matter because I was deluded. I was being stubborn and arrogant. I was refusing to take a good offer when it came. I was scared and pathetic. I just thought I was better than this guy. I was too afraid of being treated well by a good man (my ex spouse was and is a very good person, our issues had nothing to do with his ability to love or treat me well).

A co-worker had said, as she contemplated quitting, that “you don’t quit jobs, you quit people.” This was what I had in mind when I quit. At the time, the thing I was most afraid of was my job performance, the angry customers, and the variability of expectations/potential calls. After quitting, all that sticks in my mind is the social torture I endured.

That was a long story there. Let me tl;dr here about how and why I began to suspect autism played a role in my difficulties:

TL;DR:

I felt constant stress and anxiety that never lessened no matter how much “practice” or experience I got.

I had deep difficulty with any fluctuations in scheduling, hours, expectations, or customer interaction scenarios that caused such deep anxiety and stress I could not recover, even with significant time off.

I had the sense that I was grossly misunderstanding social expectations and wasn’t fitting in. Gossip was the currency in that office and I felt like I was back in middle school hell, sitting alone in the cafeteria again.

I had a constant fear that I was messing up and disappointing or angering my supervisors and coworkers. I couldn’t shake the pervasive fear that I would be punished or make a mistake, especially in the aforementioned unexpected customer interaction scenarios.

I’d need to ask clarifying questions about basic things even with three and a half years of experience. I had a seeming inability to take the parts I had learned and synthesize them into a new solution when something unexpected came up. I’d always have to ask for help and had trouble “figuring it out myself.”

I had difficulties processing auditory information or hearing spoken instructions. My boss’s teaching style relied heavily on auditory information and this made my learning process slower.

I’m a slow learner and it took me awhile to learn the systems and styles of interaction, especially when new things came up.

While I did okay with interpreting and delivering tone (the “customer service voice”) I was told that I was a little blunt in my delivery of information and I had trouble understanding the nurturing side of customer service (you are supposed to let the customer process their feelings with you, and in my line of work these “feelings” were tantrums. I didn’t understand why I was supposed to spend any time at all doing anything BUT delivering and transferring information about the order). If something unusual occurred in the conversation, I had trouble pivoting. On the plus side, customers very often tried to manipulate me to get what they wanted and I was impervious to this. Sob stories went right past me.

I didn’t really connect with my coworkers. We had nothing in common and I was told that they felt I didn’t like them because of my seeming lack of interest in connecting with them. (I thought I had tried but I guess it didn’t seem that way?)

I felt like a freak and my gender dysphoria was eating me alive. I hated being around the judgments of other people in close quarters. My manner of dress and presentation was...well, let’s just say I got away with being a little unusual. I don’t understand “office attire” and working at this job taught me I never will. (Also, most “office attire” is made out of clothing that has always been a sensory NO for me. I can only comfortably wear cotton type things.)

I made it a special request to have my own desk that I did not share with anyone else, and my boss went out of his way to accommodate this, as well as my rigid schedule preferences, despite teasing me and telling me he thought I was being unreasonable. However, despite this, my desk was used by others (not my direct coworkers) at times and they would use/move my stuff, which put me into a state of distress.

I was constantly terrified that each week would bring a new directive or expectation or that we would be “talked to” for not focusing on this or that report, duty, or customer order count. Every time it happened no one really cared or enforced it but I felt intense pressure from all these rules that never relaxed despite repeated patterns of this.

My understanding of “rules” felt out of step with everyone else’s. I internalized little comments or criticism in ways that didn’t seem to affect anyone else. My coworkers seem unruffled by the demands, arbitrary or otherwise, of our job. I was deeply disturbed by them.

My job was considered an entry level position which anyone with any basic job skills could apply for, yet I found the job to be mentally exhausting and too much to cope with.

I spent more money on alcohol and drank more than I ever had.

I lost most of my friendships and my main social group over the course of this job. I had no more energy to see or talk to the friends I had managed to keep.

This job took everything from me except what it gave me in terms of a paycheck (and it did give me a lot of opportunities financially). It was only part time but it taught me a lot about myself and what I could handle. I spent every minute I wasn’t at that job analyzing why I couldn’t get past simple things. When I was able to quit, I had a lot of time to reflect over what happened.

There were a lot of subtle microaggressions directed at and around me about my “needs” and my struggles. No one suggested I may be on the spectrum but I suspect they wouldn’t be any more understanding if they knew. I think the thing of it was, on a deeper level I knew it wasn’t just about this one job, this one boss, this one coworker or this one unpleasant task. I knew I couldn’t just replace this job with another one down the street. There was something wrong here, and it was really affecting my ability to maintain jobs.

I’ve always done okay at interviews, I guess, but I’ve only ever applied for minimum wage positions, so. It’s keeping the job after I get it that’s the problem. I think my employers would say I’m dependable and responsible and have no real issues with my work performance (because I worry so much about it) but I stress myself to death and burn out. I think that unspoken or invisible expectations just kill me. I know I’m doing something wrong but don’t understand what.

I think autism is that what. Or rather, the why in terms of why I feel like I’m not getting things like I’m supposed to.

This write up and analysis will be something I intend to use as notes if/when I go in for a formal assessment and diagnosis. My difficulties in holding a job are, while not my only issues, the primary struggle that have driven me to consider getting a formal diagnosis.

#actuallyautistic #actuallyocd #work anxiety #jobs #job anxiety

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