#also if its not clear many of the mistakes are because im dyslexic

[tedfashionski]

Finking, Finking.

Hi, welcome to my ted talk. (That is the only time I will ever make that joke. This is Fashionski Finks. Expect radically low standards of self-involved rantiness with zero research or accountability from here on out). For a while there I seriously thought that the covid-19 quarantine was going to result in people being increasingly placid and accepting of creeping extensions of the police state. But here I am, getting depressed again, not about the protests, which I love, but more about my relationship to in-group pressure dynamics. One of the problems with being a relentless contrarian is the discomfort of my impulse to rebel against groups even when they’re championing the right thing. I have to find my own way to fight against the system as an outsider. No gods, no masters, no fucking peer pressure.  I’ll never be happy joining a chorus line. I don’t sign fucking petitions (they’re just lists for the NSA). I do donate, but like fuck will I do it performatively. I can’t go to protests cus I get panic attacky in crowds. I empathise pretty strongly with outsiders of all stripes but believe ridiculously excessively in the public good of criticism, and have a nostalgic love of trolling (I like to think I’m gentle with it though). Bring back the troll! We need that fucker, he’s a sign of a healthy internet. I’m writing this blog thing as an extension of my need to vent my extreme negativity. TBH I never expected to get any followers with ted twitter and the bizarre welcomingness of the hf twitter community totally wrongfooted me. I’m not nice. Ted isn’t meant to likable. He’s my dark side. I was meant to be using this alt as a way to terrorise the nice nice (secretly cruel) fashion people. I’m gunna try and up that aspect more. Just bear in mind, my complaints are largely about the system, but if I see you perpetuating fashion’s entrenched anti-intellectualism or its insidery bullshit, I’ll come for you with a little meta-bomb with your name on it. Maintaining my misanthropic tone does take work tho, like, deep down in some twisted part of my psyche, I guess I do actually want to be liked. It’s fucked up.

I suppose it’s only fair to explain this Ted fursona. Like, new concept, who dis? Why all the furry porn? …..because I just think it’s hilarious. Every time I think about the furries I cackle (not at them, mind). I just love the mad corruption of pure Disney aesthetics into hardcore pornography. That’s anti-authoritarian as fuck. I love the sincerity of their culture. The way the crazy fetish aspect means they’ll never be fully blandified by mainstream acceptance. The way it’s so cringe but so delightful. And more seriously, I’m interested in how a culture of mostly gay male nerds developed to the point where they’ll invest 10k in custom fursuits and support eachother’s independent businesses in ways that the fashion community completely fails to do. The fashion world sucks. There’s so many correlations there that I want to investigate: the newness (furries date from around the 70s, fashion culture in its self-aware state dates from the late 19th C – both very young fields); the centralisation/decentralisation; the hierarchy (furries can be pretty catty, I have discovered in my research, and we all know what fashion people are like); the adoption of new identities; the cis-boy gayness aspect (I’m increasingly tired of the extreme nasty hierarchy of certain CSM queens. It’s all very UGH. Just, fuck those particular bitches.) There’s more to the furry love, but I’ll explore it in future posts.

More importantly, why Ted fucking Kaczynski? I’m not like, actually a terrorist. (….yet. tehehe. NO, seriously I like non-maiming violence. Fuck yeah to property damage. Fuck yeah to disabling the system in extreme way. But no to wooden IEDs. Think of my shitty jokes that fail to land as my hand-crafted bombs). I think I like the shitness of Ted. He was just an epic fail of a terrorist. I’m a little white girl living in London. I’m not actually a primitivist, as much as I crave a hut in the woods. I did go to an elite school though. I had some really shitty experiences in the fashion industry in my early 20s, and I watch my friends who are relatively successful in that system and I get so angry on their behalf at their poor treatment. They think I’m too angry. Fuck that. They should be more angry, and the fact that they can’t be angry at their extreme precarity and the fact they’re still insecure and terrified of being ejected by the system after all their investment and skills they’ve built up is BULLSHIT. I’ll be double angry for them, I’m not invested in that system. I don’t need it to pay my rent. I’m free, motherfuckers, and I’m coming for the abusers and exploiters. If you’re a complacent industry figure not fighting hard from within, uggghhhhh fuck you. Yes, YOU. Soooo, I relate pretty hard to the MK ultra stuff. (go look him up, he was basically tortured and experimented upon by the elite). But there’s a pretty big chasm between my views and his, and I’ll try to be clear about the extent of my interest in his extreme beliefs. I haven’t even finished reading the manifesto. Basically, I watched that shitty show on Netflix with sam worthington around the same time I watched Joker (that movie fucked me up) and thought it’d be a good outlet to larp online as a terrorist. There’s the angry white alt-right school shooter aspect, which I’m still figuring out, cus I’m non-binary and I was raised by nutso trumpy right-wingers, who I barely speak to anymore, and I struggle to get along with people generally. There’s sad, self-pitying rage here. I empathise with the angry white dudes too much. I feel guilty about it. That’s good ground for artmaking (yes, shamefully, this…is…art. Sorry). I modelled this fursona a little after my brother, who I spent years living with and arguing with and trying to lift out of his scary racist youtube rabbit holes. This is actually quite an emotional thing for me, cus I did the ‘talk to your fascist family’ thing. And I completely failed. I realised his right-winginess wasn’t lessening, I wasn’t gaining ground, and in fact my excessive empathy and desire to reach out to the relative most similar to me in character meant his extremism was rubbing off on me. Making me more resentful and depressed. Feeling powerless. I was being too kind-hearted and forgiving of his masculine impotence. So I’m exploring some personal shit here. But Ted is also a cute lil fuzzball teddy bear. He means well, but me being super autistic and faily at social skills means he’s kind of a dick, cus I am. I’m going to try and further develop this character, this POV, and this post is the only time I’ll explain the divide between him and his creator (moi). The ‘I’ on the twitter and here is Ted Fashionski, I need that space between me and him. Masks give us this freedom to be more ourselves. Internet culture has lost a lot of its wild brutal anonymity in the last decade or so, now everyone’s afraid of making mistakes. How the hell do you grow if you’re not allowed to fuck up? This is a vital outlet. He’s become an important part of my life and I have to say, I love being Ted Fashionski. He’s like Paddington Bear who just escaped form Guantanamo or something.

I get pretty fatigued as a matter of course. I’m a long-term depressive since childhood. I have a difficult time keeping my hard-on for living. I don’t get suicidal really but I do struggle with extreme fatigue. I sleep a lot. I often fall into spirals of self-hate. And as someone who utterly believes in revolutionary leftist politics, I beat myself up about not doing enough. I’m so middle class and english and white. I was raised in such a chauvinistic and complacent culture; I don’t even know where to start. I’m wading my way through post-colonial literature and beating myself up for finding it boring and uncomfortable. It’s hard to force yourself to acknowledge your culture is The Bad Guys. It’s easier to fall into fanstasies of supremacy and butthurt misunderstoodness. And it’s not like my depressive brain needs any encouragement to hate me. My trajectory is ever leftwards, but I remember the righteous fury of being right-wing. I get it, that was me. We need more paths back from fascism, more comprehension of why people are that kind of shitty. I talk less, and less well, the more depressed I am. If I’m talking, it means im feeling a lot better. Just, fyi.

Give me a minute to be critical here. With the George Floyd protests, a lot of the cool guys on fashion twitter has gone blazingly hardcore on the political side. But there’s this troubling rhetoric about ‘no return to normal content’ or ‘this isn’t the time for fashion’. Like fuck it isn’t. This is a key problem with fashion culture right here, we have this received perception of fashion as empty escapism. Escapism matters in fashion, yes. But seriously, talking about the surfaces of things does not equal not caring about deeper meaning. What the fuck. Clothes are a connective tissue, a membrane between us. They’re emotional and powerful. We can talk about things that matter THROUGH clothes. I speak fashion, pretty fucking well. Most people who work at fashion magazines are morons with no understanding or respect for their subject. They’re incapable of doing it justice, and that’s deliberate. On this tumblr you’ll see rants and reviews of fashion and other artforms, always interpreting through a fashion lens. cus it matters, cus it’s a vital part of the culture, cus just because something has a glittery, seductive surface doesn’t mean it doesn’t communicate or contain depth. There’s no going back to ‘normal fashion content’, yes. Normal fashion content is a fucking psyop to divert legitimate interest in aesthetics amongst largely non-academic dyslexic visual types away from careful thought/feeling and towards empty consumerist commericiality. The traditional fashion media wants you to express yourself and your interest in the zeitgeist through buying more shit. Another fashion world is possible. Let’s destroy the old and build a new one, one where surface and spirit are connected and true and fashion can’t be abused in service of evil industrial monopolists.

/end rant. TLDR: angry fictional teddy bear with tin-foil hat and an eco-anarchist fetish says no to stupid fashion and yes to the renewal of conceptual fashion. Also, Fuck White People.

[eyeliner-byeliner-blog]

Everything is Nothing

Harry Potter x Draco Malfoy

A/N: so listen this is the first time i ever written anything and this is just the first chapter lemme know if i should continue to the second one, oh and these will be in Draco and Harry POVS so next chapter is Draco’s. And I am dyslexic so I tend to miss a lot of spelling and grammar errors so I'm sorry about that in advance (Also feel free to give me criticism please)

Description: angsty as shit bruh

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“…you never know exactly how much space you occupied in people’s lives”- F.Scott.Fitzgerald

-Harry- Harry woke up on the grimy floor in a dimly lit room,it wasn’t very large and it had no windows or doors that harry could see,the light seemed to be coming from the edges of the walls and from along the lines in the floorboards, it was a strange light , it looked faint but enough light so the whole was lit in a soft light, yet it was somehow menacing, Harry adjusted his glasses to look closer and saw why, a green aura was faintly on the edges, it made the whole room vaguely glow a green hue that was barely visible, harry sat up startled after this realization, he checked himself. His was missing his wand

He senses on high alert now that he felt powerless without his wand. He walked around the room, searching for a way out, or for his wand, he found neither. No hidden doors, no trap door in the floorboards, no wand. Upon examining the room’s edges further in his attempt to find it, harry saw that the floor and walls were splattered was a dark substance

Blood

Harry got away from the was as quickly as he could, he stood in the center of the room, he needed to get out of here, NOW. He needed his wand, he would at the least have more options with it, he hoped that this was all a bad dream, but everything looked and felt too real, the walls were cold under his touch, there was even the faint metallic scent blood leaves once dried.

Harry closed his eyes, feeling powerless and cornered, he hoped that when he opened his eyes he’d be staring at the ceiling of his room, safe and sound. He slowly opened his eyes, he saw immediately the room had changed but it wasn’t the ceiling of the room, he instead was looking at a crumpled body on the ground.

He was staring at the broken and bloodied body of Hermione Granger, her eyes open in a familiar blank, glassy stare. Her body showed battle wounds but He knew that wasn’t how she died.

Harry felt his blood leave his face, all thoughts of finding his wand and finding out where he was left him, he jerked back but nearly fell from tripping over something behind him, he spun around and saw Ron’s crumpled body with the same wounds but also the same blank, open and empty stare of someone who had died from the Avada Kedavra curse, the same look Harry had seen too much after the war.

Harry turned again but this time instead of just seeing Hermione’s body he saw that the whole room was filled with the bodies of people he loved

Remus

Tonks

Ginny

George

Charlie

The list went on

That’s when the bodies started to slowly stir. one by one they slowly came back to life, “ but they couldn’t be Inferius, Im the only person in this room” Harry thought to himself trying to reason with the obvious he had no where to go, he stood frozen on the spot, half from fear and half from helplessness, he had nothing to defend himself, the bodies formed a circle around Harry and that’s when he saw her

“M-mom?”

“This wasn’t real his parents were-” he stopped himself “are dead”, the woman turned to face Harry fully confirming his question. A look of recognizance crossed her face and with it came a look of malice “Oh isn’t it the magnificent Harry Potter” Harry was flooded with a mixture of confusion and disbelief, this was his mom but how? And why was she looking at him like that? Why did she sound so sarcastic?

She continued was a sneer “ if only I could have known you were going to get me killed, if only I had know you were cursed from the very beginning, if it weren’t for you Id be alive! But no I had to get killed, you were a burden that I had to deal with, an unwanted obstacle that caused me nothing but pain.” She finished with a look of utter hatred.

Harry was speechless, she had just confirmed all of Harry worst fears of how she felt about him, his heart felt as if it were breaking in two but before he could say anything another familiar voice spoke from somewhere else in the crowd that Harry realized belonged to his dad “if we had never had had you me and Lily could’ve been living a happy life right now instead of being six feet under!”

Harry who had stumbled back from the shock and pain these words were bringing him tripped over someone behind him and fell on the floor, then came Fred’s voice “ i would still be alive if it weren’t for you, who are you to think you should have people die for you? I had a family! You could have saved so many people and families if you had died no one would have cared, you killed the only family you had, not like that would’ve mattered not exactly like they even wanted, you aren’t special, hell you aren’t anything to have so many die for you!”

Then from the crowd a chorus of voices arose from the group yelling at harry and agreeing telling him how he had failed to save them , how it was solely his fault that they had died, telling him it should have been him

Harry stared up at the group from the floor where he was propped up on his arm trying to get away, he couldn’t go anywhere he was trapped and out of options, he laid in shock, feeling as if his heart was broken beyond repair and the pain… he felt as if he was suffering a Dementor’s kiss, there was no such thing as happiness for him anymore because he didn’t deserve it, his mouth felt dry and his tongue felt heavy

“No no please no! Im sorry! I tried! I couldn’t do anything! I-” Harry’s voice cracked, he was trembling

“I tried!”

But the words sounded fake when they came out of his mouth, he didn’t know if it was true anymore, he curled up into a ball crying, they continued they’re yelling, his feeble attempt to defend himself worked to no prevail. “Its not real, its not real, its not real, it cant be” harry whispered to himself trying to keep sane

The voices yelled louder as if they all had megaphones “Im so sorry, I tried, I tried…"said harry trying to convince himself of the truth

he curled more on to himself, he body racking from the force of his sobs, they were closing in on him, everything was going dark…

Harry woke up sweating with tears running down his face, he had the same dream -or more better titled- nightmare agian, the same one he had ever since the battle of Hogwarts, it was always the same thing but it always felt so real

he hated waking up.

Because the reality of everything would come crashing down on him again,

it was always more or less the same thing

Remembering who was alive and the feeling of flooded relief and then the crushing blow of who wasn’t anymore

Because of him

Harry laid on his bed breathing hard, he thought it would’ve been better by now, it. Had been four months since the battle, since he killed the Dark Lord , since he had boarded himself up in his dead godfathers house not wanting to be harassed everyday by the daily prophet and varying other news outlets

or that’s at least what he told himself so it seemed rational to lock himself away and not for the real reason of just wanting time alone to fix himself and totally not because he felt as if he didn’t deserve anything and probably deserved worse

He could still remember that day he defeated Voldemort as clear as if it had happened the day before.

Harry actually did it, he was elated, and so was everyone else

Cheers broke out all around him, and celebrations ensued, it was several hours later until things died down and Harry wandered around campus in search of Ron and Hermione, they probably ran to make out in some corner he thought chuckling to himself, too bad he wanted to talk to them about sleeping arrangements for the night. He turned into the Great Hall

That was his first mistake

He had forgotten that’s where they had left the bodies of everyone who had died

Harry stopped in his track, his eyes falling on the dead yet peaceful looking bodies of Remus Lupin and Tonks Andromeda, his thoughts going towards Teddy who now was an orphan.

“All because of me” whispered Harry to himself

His eyes darted around the room and fell on the body of Fred, his thoughts traveled the Weasley family, of George who had lost his other half, of Ron, Ginny, Percy, Charlie, Bill who had lost a brother, of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley who had lost a son.

“All because of me”

Harry’s thoughts spiraled

If only he had found the horucruxes sooner

If only he had turned himself in sooner

He could’ve faced Voldemort alone without having anyone die for him

If only…

Harry felt as if he was about to fall to pieces, he had spent so many years actually sane and he didn’t know how, he realized now he had only bottled it up, until it broke like a dam.

He had to get out now here, not just the room but Hogwarts, he had to get away, away from the tears that were sure to come from those who had lost someone, away from anyone and everyone

Harry couldn’t bear the thought of the Weasley family crying over Fred knowing that is was his fault Fred had died, he couldn’t stand the thought of Teddy with out his parents anymore because of him.

Harry knew what he needed, he needed a quiet place to fall apart

He ran out of the Great Hall, tears starting to fall down his face, peopled looked at him as he passed, some every stopped to say something to Harry but he didn’t stop running, he at one point crashed into Draco Malfoy

Draco looked up startled until he saw who ran into him “i thought you would be off celebrating with your friends Potter. what are you doing running down these halls crashing into people?”

“Not right now Malfoy!” Harry replied and pushed Draco to the side leaving him standing in the hall with a look of confusion.

Harry realized a while ago that something had looked off about Draco but he couldn’t figure ut what, he had just wanted to get away

Harry needed to get off the grounds and disapparate, he didn’t think he could concentrate enough to fully show up at the house but so what if he died by getting splinched? It would be better to die, to feel nothing at all rather then everything he was feeling right now

12 Grimmauld Place

12 Grimmauld Place

12 Grimmauld Place

He apparated in front of the house and made his way in the house somehow he found itself in Sirius’s room which made Harry hurt more, knowing that Sirius had died for him, he crumpled to the floor and cried, for how long? He couldn’t remember…

Harry laid on his bed, staring at his ceiling, calming down slightly as he reminisced everything

He had told Kreacher to tell anyone who stopped by that Harry was not excepting visitors at the moment, no matter who it was, he ignored the steadily growing pile of letters in the corner, he had also told Kreacher to burn anything that was not a letter from someone they knew, he knew those letter were from concerned friends, Hermione and Ron would be worried but he couldn’t face it and talk to them

Not yet, it all hurt too much still

Harry replied several weeks later with half-assed apologies that would seem earnest to them , he gave them the excuse that he didn’t want to be harassed by reporters and that was the sole reason why he locked himself away, that Kreacher had been accidentally burning their letters along with the Daily Prophet ones, he told them he was fine just bored.

They of course replied minutes after Harry had responded telling him they had been worried sick about him, that it was smart to stay away from the press, they said how they wished he could have been at Fred’s funeral they saved a honorary spot for him, saying they were sorry they couldn’t visit but that they were rebuilding Hogwarts and those who had lost loved ones in the war- harry’s heart sank from guilt upon reading that part- and that they were for sure keep in touch….

And here harry was, still a mess, just a well organized mess, he could conceal that he was a mess, chaotically organized, an oxymoron of the highest level

Harry sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed, his bare feet on the cold wood floor, his vision was blurry, he searched his bedside table and after several moments he located his glasses, everything became clear.

His room was splattered in a soft gold light, he glanced at the window that he had accidentally left open, it was sunrise. He glanced at his clock, it read 6:37, “early bird catches the worm right?” He said to the empty room.

Harry, still murky from waking up stretched, he felt his muscles in his body ripple from being dormant in his sleep, harry shivered, it was cold in his room from the open window

He glanced around his room, his eyes fell to the letter that had been on his desk for the past month it was a letter from Hermione telling Harry that Mcgonagall had decided to make an eighth year at Hogwarts for the seventh years that wished to return, who needed closure or for those who just need to feel something normal

Hermione told him of course Ron, Ginny and herself would be returning and that Harry should go as well, the press wouldn’t be able to crowd him at school and another year would be good for all of them, Harry of course agreed, he didn’t want to let them down again

Harry got up off his bed and looked at himself in the mirror, he had grown a tiny bit over the summer, he looked older but tired, the nightmares had taken a toll on him, his hair was a mess- or a lost cause as Harry liked to call it, his face had scruff and his pajama bottoms hung loosely around his bare waist, revealing the V coming down from his hips

He glanced around the room again and sighed, he couldn’t believe today was the day he would be going back again, his trunk was already packed with his robes and varying books, earlier in the week Harry had gone and bought himself a new owl with the help of a poly juice potion so he wouldn’t be recognized

Harry winced at the thought of losing Hegwid

he had gotten a kind and ruddy colored barn owl, he had decided to name her Caeli, it was latin for starry because the way the light reflected in her large eyes reminded him of starry nights.

He started to rummage through one of his drawers looking for clean and presentable clothes he could wear on the train before he changed into his school robes, when he finally suitable clothing he made his way towards his bathroom

“I can do this.” Harry thought to himself as he turned the water on in the shower, “I can do this.” It was the same thing he told himself everyday since the battle

“ i have too”

Too many people were counting on him, Harry undressed and stepped into the shower and felt the warm water run over him and watched it flow in rivulets down his body, as he got lost in his thoughts he went through the mechanical movements of taking a shower.

He had to at the least looks happy and not like he’s age twenty years from not getting a good nights sleep since the battle, Harry sighed, he knew already how drained he’d feel at the end of the day from putting up the facade all day, he wouldn’t want to concerned anyone, especially Ron or hermione

He didn’t think either of them would understand that he didn’t need someone to tell him it will get better, to just take it one day at a time because he himself had already been saying that for so long, he needed someone to say it wasn’t Harry’s fault, but not in that tone everyone always uses when trying to comfort someone he needed the honest truth

Harry turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, shivering at the cold air that hit him, he dried himself off and went to his room, towel tied around his waist, hair still damp from the shower, smelling clean, he pulled his clothes on anticipating the coming day.