#and who am i to judge anyone's online orders the less said about them the better xD

[kdipshit]

Souljah For Life ;

I am not writing to please anyone, thats the beauty of coming online and starting at the bottom, with no promotion, no… well thats about it, I haven’t told anybody I’m doing this, I’ve done it before, but never like this. Its kind of scary, but like I said, being scared kind of keeps me cool. I give thanks to jah. I’ve always known that one day I’m gonna have to deal with all of this shit I’ve been pushing down, its kind of exciting and gives me something for my scatterbrain to do lol. I don’t know what writing to post does to me yet, I just know I don’t want to depend on anyone or anything else, and its kind of hard to see a different outcome by doing all I know. Who taught me all I know and how open is their mind? What kind of person are they? Where did they learn that? Why do they believe that, and are they open to broading their horizon?

i will continue to express what ever it is that needs expressing.Ramble writing, lol. I’m sure theres gold in some of these sentences. To put my mind in order enough to contract said sentence, is the struggle itself. When I speak, it comes out jittery, anxious and embarrassing, so I kind of just don’t speak, without looking around after wards. Im grateful because maybe thats why I see myself as such a brilliant writer, I have the right amount of time to process and figure out what I want to say, not right off that bat, but once processed.

See I’m speaking as if thats something I do, Im always saying things I want to do and trying to speak into existence the person I want to be but the thought of me not being able to do it throws me off, but now that we know emotion can only grow from thought, the best move would be to change the thought… right? The thought : everyone is judging me…. Counter thought : No one cares, no they dont, they don’t care. Just speak. Just write. Just express yourself because no one cares if you do or if you don’t. It make me feel good, and I’m sure, I’m sure of it, theres gotta be gold in here.

Anyways girls, skins looking tight, hair hopefully less orange by the time I read this again, weed is up, feeling like a true winner. How could anything go wrong? Looking at life as if it’s someone I’m in love with is the easiest for me, considering how easy and natural love is for this libra. My Venus is in Leo and I think that means I’m confident in my love, which explains me effortlessly. I haven’t felt love in a long time, big S word about it, I guess I just sit here.

I am stronger and wiser than I was the day before. Every ‘now’ moment I find myself in, I am better than the last. I’ve been learning to think differently, now that I’m aware of my power over them, just small things like stopping myself from holding onto the automatic thought and instead changing it to the positive opposite. My younger sister told me she loved me today, but meant it as she loves the person I am, and that I can go through so much and still be a good person afterwards, and not a crackhead or someone who took the ‘easy’ way out, for the record I don’t think that’s the easy way out. She’s someone whose opinion about me I value because of how much I have let her down in the past, with my drinking and absolute psychotic episodes, I’ve always wanted to be the good older sister, and I’m here. This is usually around the time I start to self sabotage, but I choose to feel so much differently, instead actually embracing the change instead of running away to my old ways, just because I know them so well. I’m so excited on my new journey with my new flower bed of a brain. I brought a new sweater today and I swear to god im the cutest thing ever.

My mind seems kind of empty and its so freeing, The vibration that the music projects is feeling nek level kahi. I’m here, I’m in this moment, I feel okay….. I feel level, I feel high, I feel so grateful, I feel full of love energy, I feel light blue, yellow, green. I feel good here. Blue and yellow together is so beautiful and eye opening and makes you feel so fresh right??? Thats how I feel anyways.

[hyacinthuspetals]

I desperately hope this does not come off as preachy, these are just my thoughts regarding some stuff I've seen! I am not trying to vague anyone or talk about any specific individuals, it's something that has circled around this space for a while and I just want to share my own personal feelings and what I want to avoid before a problem actually starts.

For a good while I've seen some posts floating around about Apollo's portrayal in online spaces and how many newer, less informed people tend to view him. People are concerned that he's not being treated with respect or being seen as himself, and that he's kind of been treated like a character or "blorbo" in many cases.

I think that they're right! There's a lot of his depth and complexity that gets lost like we're all playing a really long game of telephone. Worshipping the gods without delving into their history and context can be tricky (example the BLOOD SACRIFICE TIKTOK DEBAUCLE GOOD LORD) and there needs to be a good foundation and understanding of the gods if you're going to worship them. We don't see a lot of him being portrayed as Slayer of Python, god of plagues with his silver bow and his love for knowledge.

That being said, I hope this doesn't turn into something where people who do worship Apollo are seen as like, fandomifying him just because of what gets seen on their blogs? People's worship may go way deeper than what we see from their online presence. I post some goofy stuff about him and some of the others from time to time with their permission.

My "cowboy Apollo" doodle was a silly inside joke between the two of us about his story with Hermes taking his cattle. I don't want to be constantly worried that someone will see that and immediately judge me and my relationship with him, assuming I'm treating him like an OC or not taking him seriously. My relationship with the gods I worship is very friendly and often informal (depending on my kharis with them) because that is what brings the most comfort to me based on my own negative experiences being forced to grow up in a Catholic home. I'm so thankful the gods are understanding of my situation and are willing to meet me in the middle. Apollo especially has brought me so much comfort, and I talk to him the way I would talk to any person I'm close to that I respect. I tag him in memes that remind me of him, I draw silly doodles of him, and I laugh with him. From the outside, someone who stumbles across my blog and doesn't know me or the relationship I share with him may scoff and brush me off as someone who is "treating him like my blorbo'. That makes me really sad, and quite paranoid actually. It makes me feel like I have to censor myself and my relationship with him in order not to be labeled as someone like that.

People are absolutely valid and right to be concerned about the way he may be portrayed, and I've seen this concern about Dionysus as well. I don't think they are wrong! It's a shame that what's happened to him has put some people off from worshipping and appreciating him, and I do not want anyone to think I am discrediting them, their feelings, or frowning at their opinions. I agree with those opinions wholeheartedly! Apollo is amazing, he's my world, and I love him so much. I want people to love ALL parts of him, not just the bright and happy parts.

I just hope that as we criticize this reduced version of him, we try to avoid making snap judgements about others based on what we see of their relationship with him. It hasn't been a major problem from what I've seen, but I wanted to put in my two cent before it even gets to that point. I hope that as a community, we practice Xenia and show our fellow polytheists kindness and help educate them rather than rolling our eyes. There are a lot of very dedicated, kind, and wonderful Apollo worshippers on here. Moving forward I want to help educate and help people who may not be as informed to understand how fantastically diverse and complex he is!

Again, I truly hope this doesn't sound preachy, or like I'm angry or trying to start something with anyone in particular. I have so much respect for my fellow Hellenic polytheists, ESPECIALLY reconstructionist worshippers. I've learned so much from the amazing people on here who devote their time and energy to sharing their knowledge FOR FREE, that's so great! All of us have a lot to learn from one another, and no one's practice will be exactly the same as someone else's. I think that's beautiful.

Hail to Apollo, the Far Shooter, Protector of Roads, Healer, God of Plagues, and the god who helped save my life. 💛

[simpz-art-stash]

Late beginnings

Summary: Mac goes out for a drink, and happens upon some advice he takes into consideration about his skewered relationship with Wukong. Before finally taking some action to mend the long burnt bridge. (Author’s note: I barely did any beta reading for this so if it’s worded strangely that’s just how I write without the normal filter on. I’m country so HOWDY) Next Page ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- The night was late, but he didn’t care, he might as well have been nocturnal with the way his whole life revolved around the whole stereotype of shadows and shit. He’d walked into a bar he’d passed through a few times before, donning his human disguise of course beforehand, and walked in without sparing anyone else a glance. Before planting his rear in one of the stools seated at the front bar, ordering a drink to get the night started. “I’m really looking forward to seeing that new Monkey King movie with the trailer they just released. You saw it too right?? The whole style of the film is on par with their most recent game- OH, you think they’re gonna make a game of it?? I bet you they wiiiill!~” Ugh, great, just what he’d come here to avoid.

Mac’s eyes glanced to the blabbermouth boasting about whatever new movie was being made about his ex, to see two girls residing a ways down near the other end of the bar a few seats away from him. Both looking to have had a fair night themselves already if any of the cups and plates hanging around their spot was anything to go by. “Probably. I hope it’s better than last game that came out on the Brick 360, the bugs in that thing were gross to deal with.” Their friend commented back. Before looking down at their phone and claiming that it was getting late and that they had to go. “Yeah I’ll see ya Monday!” The chick waved their friend off a lazy farewell after they’d paid their bill before going back to their drink, now taking less tedious sips as the mood seemed to smooth out from their conversation prior. “I see someone’s a pretty big fan of that ol’ man.” Macaque piped up from where he sat, earning the attention of the stranger he’d directed his comment towards. “The Monkey King yeah?” Sparks danced in the chick’s eyes at the recognition of the name, before the stranger perked up and beamed a smile back at him, “You betcha! I’m a total nerd for that legend.” ‘A legend, hah.’ “S’the whole reason I moved to China in the first place.” She jabbed a thumb at her chest, “All the way from America!” Mac whistled, “That’s a pretty far leap to take, even for a legend. What, you hopin’ you’ll get the chance to see em’ or somethin’?” He sneered, taking his glass and lazily swirling it in his hand. “I wish!” She laughed, “Nah I mostly just moved here for work. If anything though it’s cuz a them for where I am now. I’d never even heard of him till about five years ago!” Mac blinked, lowering his drink from his lips, “You’re joking…”

“Not at all! No one hardly knows the story back home. Only reason I found out was cuz I just started gettin’ into anything monkey-related as a hobby.” She pointed at him, “Don’t laugh either, it’s a wildly popular standpoint to have these days online.” Mac quirked a brow at that, he’d hardly touched the internet these days save for whenever he needed some quick info on something he couldn’t find elsewhere. He held his hands up, “Hey I ain’t judging…” He smirked a little to betray the look that he totally was though. It was kinda funny how ironic it was him being there right then. She squinted at him, “Anyways...Yeah, I’d seen stuff of him online, but I’d never paid much attention to it up until recently.” “What made you change your mind?” Mac boredly probed, taking a sip. She simply shrugged, “I was in a dark headspace, guy made me laugh.” He paused, “Wait, seriously??” “I mean have you HEARD half the crazy shit he’s done??” ‘Babe I’ve LIVED through half the shit he’s done.’ “Like, literally, the guy is HILARIOUS. My favorite story out of them all being one where he literally tricked THREE taoist immortals into drinking his own piss!!” She burst out laughing while Mac choked on his drink a little, not having expected to hear that of all things. Sure he’d heard a few of the shenanigan’s his peaches had gotten up to throughout his journey to the west but he’d never heard that one before. Nor had he the patience to read through all that mess of context that had been published either. “Ahhh man, it still gets me…” The chick sighed with a few leftover laughs as she wiped a tear from her eye. “What about you? What’s your favorite story?” She asked. And suddenly Mac felt like he’d been put on the spot as he stared back at her. “Come ooon, surely there’s one that’s gotten your gut rolling.” She pried. ‘Plenty, but there ain’t no way in hell I’d tell a soul.’ “Bahh...there ain’t the first one that comes to mind that I’d like. Honestly I’m not even much of a fan.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Whaaat?? Aw come on! There’s tons of cool n’ funny stories!” “Heh..can’t imagine what you find so charming about a guy who’s too good for his own friends.” Mac spitefully twacked himself mentally for spewing something so personal like that out. Ugh, and he hadn’t even finished half his drink yet… The chick sitting to his left seemed to tilt her head a little before she squinted at him. Her silence being what brought his attention from his drink to her as he blinked back with a quirked brow. “What?” “Your eyes, they’re like raging storm clouds.” She pointed out. He blinked, not really sure how to feel about that. The only one who’d ever really pointed that out to him before was… “...So?” “Nothing!...” She shrugged, turning back away towards her own drink as if no conversation at all had happened between them. Whatever...he had his fill of shit to drink to either way. The night might’ve been late but he was just getting started. “He makes me laugh though.” She pointed out, earning her a glance. “All his stories n’ stuff. If there was ever a man I’d want, it’d be one who could always make me laugh.” “Hmph, not one for strength?” He took a long sip. Ignoring the bitterness of others fawning over someone he’d come to love before he’d gotten so popular. “Strength is fine n’ all, but it can only take a relationship so far..you gotta have more pieces to put in that crockpot of a relationship if you wanna make it taste good. Stuff like patience, honesty, a little bit of everything to help it all come together to make it juuuuust right.” “Hm…” “It can’t be all just you putting the stuff in there either, it’s gotta be a contribution from both gardens. Otherwise you’ll just barren your lands and be left with nothing to spare yourself or others in your life with.” She glanced at Mac, “Relationships are tricky like that, but they should always be a 50/50 split~” She winked. That...actually sounded like pretty sound advice. Something he’d heard a little here and there before but never so simply laid out. Though it made sense from his standpoint, fairness n’ all that. But he’d been that way with Wukong before and it had never worked out, all the bickering and such, so what had gone wrong? “Can I...ask you something?” Mac inquired. “Shoot.” “What’re your thoughts on..a relationship that seemed fine, but then the other changed so much that everything about it fell apart?” “Mmm...care to sprinkle in a lil more context?” The chick eyed him. Mac’s face scrunched up a little, no idea why he was asking some random mortal for relationship advice of all things. “Hey man. We’re both probably never gonna meet again after tonight, so if you’ve got skeletons in your closet, your best place to let em’ out is here. Bartenders are known for being the most well kept secret keepers in all the world after all~” She winked at the bartender in question who simply looked the other way with a look that might’ve suggested such a fact as truth. “Hm…” Ah screw it, “Alright alright…” He sighed and put his drink down, “There’s..someone. We used to be real close, we were strong together but then uh..shit got real and he had to go deal with it. But when he came back he uh, wasn’t the same as before, an I might’ve sorta assumed he was cheating on me so…so we kinda fell out.” The chick nodded, “Ahh..the classic misunderstanding of change and cheating, a tale as old as time.” She seemed to hum a moment before she turned from where she was seated, if not to hop down off her stool and plop down on the one right up next to him. “Uh-” “Shhh, lemme see those eyes.” She squinted, leaning in and staring deep into his. It’d would’ve been really unnerving if she hadn’t said anything about them before, now he was a lil put off that he might’ve been asking a witch of all things for advice… “Right. Well, at least you feel bad about it. So there’s that.” He blinked and his brows furrowed, “Wh- of course I feel bad about it, it was his fault-” He suddenly had a finger pressed to his lips. “Nope! Nooononono, you do not get to throw all the blame elsewhere like that sweetheart. There ain’t no way in hell you’re gettin’ a second chance with them if you keep that up.” She pulled her hands back. His face scrunched up and he found himself crossing his arms, if he had his tail out it would’ve been irritably swaying behind him right then at just how annoyed he was getting at this weird lady and her words. “Oh yeah? An what do you think’s best then huh?” “I dunno if you’d be up for that kinda challenge…” She idly fiddled with an imaginative piece of lint off her sleeve, which only seemed to irritate Mac further at the thought of him not being able to handle Wukong of all people. Like sure he’d gotten his ass handed to him before but he could still hold his own! “Try me.” The chick glanced back at him with a smirk, which caught him off guard for a second before he shot her a glare back. “Alright, but it’s definitely not gonna be as quick or easygoing of a recovery as you might hope it’ll be. Nor is there even a chance of you recovering it in the first place. But, you at least got that spark enough to try so who am I to deny?” ‘Hmpt, dam right I got a spark.’

“First of all, no more blaming, if you’re gonna tackle this properly, you gotta do yourselves a favor an quit it with the blame placing. Sure it’s easy, but it ain’t gonna get you nowhere but back to square one. It’s all in the past, the now is now. So push forward to fix it and put it behind you two so you can focus on the more important things.” “Easier said than done…” “Hey man, even if they don’t follow the same ruleset at first you could always work things out to make it one later on. I’m just tellin’ ya right now so you won’t just go diggin’ yourself a deeper hole.” Honestly at this point he was pretty much six feet down under, death to him would’ve been a mercy right then. “Fine…” He rolled his eyes. “Next up, apologizing…” -----------~----------- “I thought I told you to stay off my island.” Mac didn’t really glance back from where he stood high up on one of the breathtaking ledges that which Flower Fruit Mountain bolstered. His arms crossed, eyes sternly held against the leftover warmth of the late afternoon sun as it shifted the skies hues from blue to blood red. Hopefully that would be the only tinge of red the Mountain would see after today. “I know.” “What, no witty remark? Give me one good reason-” “I just wanted to talk.” Mac stated plainly. “Why the hell should I give you the chance?” “...” Mac wasn’t sure if he could come up with a good enough reason after the shitshow he’d caused him the last few centuries, most recent being his spat with him between MK. “I’m sorry.” That seemed to catch the king off guard, as he paused in his vicious glare to stare at the other. “Excuse me??” “I’m.Sorry.” Mac turned finally to Wukong, that look of fiery malice having softened immensely upon meeting their eyes. “I was wrong for what I did and I’m sorry.” Wukong’s face looked like it had had a stroke with how frozen in place it was, almost like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Hurting everyone around you just to get back at you, I was wrong for doing that. And I just wanted to apologize.” Mac’s face twisted a little, the words coming out a little rougher than he’d liked, but he’d managed to get three steps in so far… “If you think a few sorry’s are gonna be enough to make up for all that crap then you gotta nother’ thing comin Mac.” Wukong finally shook off the surprise and crossed his arms with a steely gaze. “Nah I know they ain’t worth shit with as long as it's been...which it’s been..a really, really long time come to think of it..nearly 3000 years…” Fucking yikes. “What’s your point?...” Wukong raised a brow at him. “My point is...my point..” What was his point? To make amends and hope they’d get back together? To go back to the way things were? That couldn’t be done with the way things were now. Wukong had a successor, a moral compass, a lotta shit that Mac didn’t. A lotta shit that he wanted but never could figure out how to get his own. His face scrunched up a little and he sighed, “I..just wanted to make things right.” “Oh-hoh? After so long you finally decided to admit you were at fault? Sorry Mac, but it’s waaaay too late for that.” Wukong huffed, “Honestly, this is probably just another one of your stupid tricks if anything. The old Macaque would never throw himself down like that.” “Well maybe I’ve changed!” Mac exclaimed suddenly, his temper flaring a bit as his eyes flashed lightning. “3000 years later? As if…” Wukong rolled his eyes and turned away, “You’ve still got that same look in your eyes you always do whenever we fight. Do me a favor and just keep away from the hot springs this time yeah? The last time you were here you sent a whole dam boulder over there and smashed half the pools.” He waved his hand dismissively. “And I happen to take my once a month bath’s very seriously.” Mac’s nostrils flared a little at just how flamboyant Wukong was acting towards him and his attempt to make amends. How he just saw his attempt as a joke and nothing more, it pissed him off. Wukong had changed and everyone had accepted him, well not everyone, but still, why couldn’t the same be for him? Had he really fooled himself into believing that there was a chance he and Wukong could be together again? His shoulders slumped a little. Of course, who was he kidding. A 3000 year old pit of grudges wasn’t about to just up and disappear at the wave of a white flag. This was Wukong, the same guy who still playfully pestered the gods and demons around him for past conflicts that had happened between them. -----------~----------- “But you can’t just go, ‘ooo I’m so sorry for what I did.’ Nah, you gotta follow the five steps.” The chick claimed. “Yeesh, this a learning course now?” Mac tilted his head to the side. “It is if you wanna make things right.” She claimed matter a factly. “The five steps have never failed me before and have worked wonders for any an all my relationships. Might not quite have the same range of effect you’re going for but it’ll at least be a good start.” “Heh, you got the guts to back up that case?” Mac sneered. “I will if you don’t manage to screw it up.” The chick pointed out. “The five steps go as follows.” - express sorrow (I’m sorry) - own guilt (I was wrong) - name specific wrongs (I did X) - name impact (I hurt you) “And finally...” -----------~----------- “What can I do to prove myself to you?” Macaque asked finally. “What can I do to at least make it to where we can..not fight anymore..and just talk?...” Wukong stood there for a long moment, his features unreadable as their silence was muffled by the wind bellowing between them both from being so high up. “You really are serious about this aren’t you?...” Wukong’s head shifted ever so slightly, but not enough to where Mac could get a reading on his emotions. “I’m tired of fighting and waiting and thinking that if enough time passes things’ll go back to the way they were...when they never will. Trying to hurt you isn’t gonna make the old you come back, no matter how many times you beat me down...It’ll never be the same.” Mac admitted finally. A quiet gust settled down between them, before Wukong seemed to let out a dry chuckle and shook his head. “Can’t believe it took me 3000 years to beat the sense into you.” He turned and looked back at the other, where he no longer held a look of seething hate, but more akin to that of the same tired look just as the one Mac wore. Mac felt a sliver of guilt wriggle its way into one of the cracks of his heart and he glanced away, pulling a hand back and scratching his head. “Yeah well...your kid hit me pretty hard last time, enough to knock it in place.” A small smile crept a little onto his face. “Hm~ He’s gettin’ pretty good at hittin’ stuff with that old stick.” Wukong’s eyes glinted a little at the appeal of how proud he was for MK having taken Mac out the way he did. A little over the top and flashy, just like him.” “He’s got a pretty strong master to thank for that…” Mac found himself yearning a little for that same glint to be reflected on his memory the same way as MK’s. Not that he couldn’t see himself holding the same appeal for MK the way Wukong did, kid was strong, just a lil desperate in some of the cracks that shaped his outline. Something Macaque found that was easy enough to take advantage of, and something Wukong held a blind eye to. “Hm.” Wukong’s reply pushed him out of those thoughts for the moment as they shared a brief look between one another. A glimmer of reconsideration flashing between the two before Wukong finally turned his head away to drink in the sunset before them. “One chance.” Mac felt his heart nearly stop at that answer. “I’ll give you one chance, but if you screw this up, don’t even think about showing your face to me again.” Wukong replied, “I mean it this time…” Mac swallowed a little and nodded. Anything, he’d be willing to do anything to gain back what little trust he could from Wukong. “Good...you can start making up for it by apologizing to MK.” Mac blinked and sputtered a little as Wukong turned away and began to make his way back down the mountain. A smile playing on his lips while Macaque groaned to the heavens about his next trial.

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

We Met Within This Screen (chapt. 3 PART 1)

[Donnie x reader]

sfw, part 2 here

"Leo?" 

Donnie froze. Leo stood firm where he was. The atmosphere of the lab fell still and Donnie got up from his chair, slipping his phone into his pocket. 

"I was getting ready," Donnie almost stammered out, though he managed to get through it barely. "Just…" 

He couldn't think of anything to say. No excuses; he knew he was caught. Why would he have been smiling, chuckling at his phone? Why would he have been that distracted as to not detect his brother? There was no explanation to give. He was far less acute than their leader in his senses—less intuitive—to have been able to know that. He berated himself as Leo folded his arms and gave him a look of knowing. Always with that look. You knew you were busted when Leo deployed that one. 

"You can either tell me what's going on now or you can do it out there, where everyone can hear," said Leo sternly, body partially blocking the exit anyway. 

Donnie scratched on the same spot on the back of his neck that he'd always picked at when he felt uncomfortable. "I can explain," he finally said in a low tone. "Just let me. And please don't alert everyone else immediately. Promise?" 

Pausing, Leo contemplated on his response, coming to the decision that he'd at least give him that. He nodded and motioned for him to start, "Go ahead."

"I, um…" 

Donnie's heart rate picked up a bit as he began to feel a wash of embarrassment seep in. He'd never been very open to his brothers about how he sometimes wanted connection with the outside world. He hadn't thought much about love or romance given their situation, either, but it did crop up from time to time—he still never mentioned it. 

Releasing a deep breath, he explained, "I met someone. Over a game. She wanted to text, and I figured that, since the possibility of—" 

Leo halted him. "Time out, what? You met someone on a game, they wanted to text, and you just...agreed?" he asked, surprised himself by Donnie's actions. Before he would hear his brother's response, he continued, cutting him off once again, "Did you forget that there's a reason why we don't just go around talking to whoever?"

Donnie felt a spark of anger and he stood up straighter, stepping forward toward Leo. He hated nothing more than being implied he was stupid or naive. But he still kept his distance, and still tried to keep his voice low so that prying ears couldn't hear. 

"Trust me, Leo! I've been talking to her for a few weeks. We only started officially texting recently. You know I've fixed up our phones so they aren't traceable; what is the issue? Am I not allowed to have my own life?" 

Leo scoffed lightly, shaking his head. "Don, come on, dude," he reasoned, "can you even be sure that's a girl?" 

Donnie's lip twitched in annoyance and he scoffed, himself. Of course he was sure! If he'd ever had any inkling he was being baited by an older man, he never would have played with them, or even agreed to text. But Leo didn't seem to listen to anyone's intuition but his own and Splinter's, and so he wouldn't hear out that argument. Donnie suddenly wished she'd sent a picture of herself so he could prove to his brother that he was not, in fact, that empty-headed. 

"Also, you do have your own life, it's with us. Which means I have to look out for both you and the rest of the family. I mean it when I say this is risky. Don't be a fool, Donnie. Plus, what were you planning on doing when she eventually wants to know more about you? Lie your way through it? Even if she is who you say she is, it still doesn't change the fact that she's a human girl and you're a mutant. And you can't keep up the charade forever." 

Donnie's heart panged at his last words. He wanted so badly to say that he was wrong, but really, he knew that Leo was painfully correct. He couldn't keep up the act forever. Not unless he wanted a friendship built upon lies and deceit by omission. As much as he hated to admit it, Leo was right; it was foolish to have thought it would somehow work out. 

Silence befell them, and even though he spoke the truth, Leo felt bad upon seeing his face fall like that. He reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "I know it gets lonely. We all do. But you have to face it, Don. That up there? It isn't for us," he told him gently, trying hard to lift the tension from the room. "Let's just stick to what we know best, okay?" 

The shadows. 

Eyes averted at the ground, Donnie swept the hand on his shoulder off. He walked right past his brother and grabbed some gear on his way out. "Yeah. Let's go." His reply was quiet and curt, steady as he could make it. Though on the inside, he was frustrated. Frustrated that he'd dug himself into a hole that he'd now have to not only dig himself out of, but let down someone else while he was at it. He'd have to let her go. Less angry was he with himself as he was his situation, and Leo knew that feeling well. He wanted to protect his brother—he just hoped Donnie would see that. 

Out on patrol, they went about their routine as usual, but everyone noticed the mood-shift. Raph and Mikey were excitable as ever, but the other two were more reserved that night, not talking much to each other. 

They leaped from one rooftop to another where they decided to stop for a quick rest, Mikey racing ahead of all of them as he vaulted from the roof and onto the next. "You guys are slow!" he called from the other side. He grinned and jumped up onto the scaffold of a water tower while Raph  barrelled across the gap with a roll on impact, Leo choosing to take a flip. Donnie trailed behind and simply jumped the ledge. 

"Yo, what's up, D?" Mikey asked through heavy breaths, picking up on his standoffishness. "You been quiet all night!"

"And you're slow as hell," Raph commented. While not as perceptive as Mikey, he had noticed the odd tension and was beginning to get suspicious as well. He knew someone wasn't saying something; he just didn't know what. 

Leo and Donnie exchanged looks. He silently hoped that Leo would take the hint, but when Leo sighed and glanced back at the other two, he knew it was hopeless. He'd get chastised at for being ignorant all over again. At least by Raph, he judged. Mikey couldn't really talk because he'd been in a similar boat before, and now, he knew how he'd felt all those times they got onto Mikey for trying to make contact with humans. 

"Well?" demanded Raph, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "You gonna tell us or what?" His eyes were on Leo rather than Donnie, because he already had an idea that they both knew something that he and Mikey didn't, but everyone turned to Leo when something like this came up.

Leo chewed on his lower lip for a second, conflicted as to whether he would come out with it or save Donnie's pride. They were brothers, family—he couldn't feel truthful keeping them in the dark. But he also recognized that it wasn't his place to say it. He instead turned to Donnie himself, looking for any sign of what they were gonna do. It was up to him, he concluded; if he wanted to stay quiet about it, he could. 

Mikey was confused. Raph was growing more impatient. Donnie felt pressured to blurt it out. And he did. 

Breaking, Donnie strung out, "I met someone online and we started talking and Leo found out and I didn't want you guys to know because it was stupid and...and...oh, just let me finish this now!"

Leo awkwardly stood back in silence while Raph looked at Mikey, then back at Donnie and him, and soon enough everyone was just staring at one another, all waiting for someone to say something, but no one did. Done, Donnie took his phone out and opened up the messages shared between him and her, holding it out for his brothers to see. 

Without warning Raph snatched the phone from his hand and started scrolling, Mikey peering around his shoulder and trying to push him out of the way to see. 

"You actually talked to a girl," Mikey awed. He was excited at first, but it faded when he thought about the fact that Donnie had kept a secret from them. They didn't keep secrets. 

"Yeah, one named [y/n], who lives in New York City," Raph emphasized, "and works at wherever this is…and...how did you even meet this girl, Don? Is that even a girl?" he questioned Donnie accusingly, waving the phone around as he spoke. He almost dropped it and Donnie quickly took it from him, telling him to be careful as he slipped it back into the strap on his bicep. 

Leo kept vigilant watch around them while the conversation played out, being the only one truly paying attention. His eye caught some erratic movement in a tucked-away alley down below them. 

"For the last time, yes! She is a girl! And I met her on a game," Donnie answered, throwing his hands down. 

"Save it for later, guys, we got company," Leo interjected. He pointed down at the alleyway adjacent to the building they were on and motioned for them to get moving, dropping down onto the fire escape of an apartment complex. 

Raph bumped Donnie in the arm purposefully as they approached the edge of the roof, "We ain't done yet," he said, dropping onto the fire escape. 

"Yeah, not done yet," Mikey added whimsically. 

Groaning under his breath, Donnie whipped out his staff, and leaped down. 

Mikey followed behind him, jumping the ledge and launching himself to the opposite balcony. They came upon the scene of a couple of men each carrying a sack out of a backdoor in a building, what was assumed to be the ringleader overseeing it from a car parked next to them. 

They turtles were silent, perfectly hidden and moved within the black of night as they descended. Raph pulled out his sai and was about to drop down on one of the unsuspecting men when Leo shoved him back. "Hold on," Leo told him. Begrudgingly, Raph stood down. Donnie peered around the corner from ground level while Mikey clinged to a wall in the shadows. Above, Leo and Raph took the high ground, watching them from a balcony nearby. 

"Hurry up and get this shit loaded into the car, I don't wanna get caught back here," a rough voice ordered from the vehicle. Donnie spotted another person in the passenger's seat. 

"We're goin' as fast as we can!" one of the men spat back. All were beefed up, tattooed, and based on the scars, no strangers to a fight. 

Raph looked at Leo with a smirk. Leo gave the signal and everyone closed in, red and blue dropping from the balcony onto the two completely unaware men, while Donnie and Mikey went to take care of those in the car. 

"What the fuck?!" a man shouted, stumbling back as the duo dropped heavily in front of them. He tossed the sack away and Raph saw he was going to pull out a gun, which Raph went for immediately with his sai. He charged into the man before he could even try to aim and stuck the arm holding the pistol with his three-pronged weapon, forcing his wrist down and the gun to fall out of his hand. Leo took the other and barely had to use any force in pinning the man against the wall with his blade and forearm, but had to duck out of the way when Mikey came through swinging his nunchucks at one of the men who had tried to flee the scene. 

"Watch where you're going with those things, Mikey!" Leo yelled, grunting as a crowbar collided with the side of his head. He spun around and threw his fist at whoever was behind him, an incapacitating blow to a human, but barely his full strength. 

Mikey easily caught his target and gave his legs a mighty sweep to sent him tumbling down. "You thought!" he bellowed with a laugh. "Can't outrun M.C. Mikey." 

Donnie caught the driver on the far end of the fight scurrying to pick up the sacks before making his getaway, and quickly he forcefully jabbed his staff into the solar plexus of the man, sending him onto his back. He was winded, coughing and struggling for air. 

"Donatello! You good over there?" Raph called out, delivering one final kick to the stomach of the man he was on. Donnie heard the skid of a shoe on the pavement behind him and didn't even have to look as he whirled around with a swing of his staff, hitting the man in the head with near-devastating force. It was a knockout blow—the guy dropped, and the fight was over as quickly as it had started. 

Donnie looked around and collapsed his staff, "All good," he answered curtly. 

All five of the men lay on the ground, a couple flat-out unconscious while the rest hissed and groaned in pain. While Donnie inspected the sacks strewn around, Raph chuffed and kicked the gun that had fallen away from the hand that was slowly reaching for it, looking down at the pathetic criminal as he instead stepped on his wrist. The burly man let out a whimper, like a baby, and Raph chuckled. 

"Just money," Donnie announced. All of them heard the sirens of police cars approaching. "Let's get out of here, guys." 

"Those morons weren't even a warm-up," Raph gloated, fist-bumping Mikey. Leo and Donnie were already scaling up to the roof. "Guess if I want to be bored outta my mind, I'll find these guys again." 

"Oh, we'll find 'em again," Mikey added, pulling himself up onto the fire escape. He glanced back and saw the red and blue flashing lights starting to round the corner. "But, uh, not before the cops do." 

The four made their way back up to the roof and left the area. They still had some time left on patrol, so for a minute, they lingered around, Raph keen to reignite their earlier conversation. Donnie already saw it coming and mentally prepared to answer all of the questions that were about to be thrown his way—which he was correct about, as Raph proceeded to open with, "So, what, you're keepin' secrets from us now? Anything else ya been doing behind all our backs?" 

"Cut it, Raph," Leo said, stepping between him and Donnie, "you know that's not it. Don?"

"We're your pals, man, you should have told us," frowned Mikey. 

"I just didn't want anyone to freak out," Donnie explained, "and I didn't know I was going to meet anyone I liked that much, I was only planning on playing the—" 

Both Raph and Mikey asked in unison, "'Like'?" 

He scrambled to fix his wording. He cursed his nervous chatter; he couldn't help himself, he was uncomfortable. Maybe even anxious, because he knew he was going to have to face reality and break it off with his new friend.

"No, not—not 'like'. Like, not like that. I mean in general, as a person," he stuttered, floundering with himself. 

Mikey knew he was lying. He knew it well. Though gullible at times, when it came to the heart, Mikey truly was the most in-tune out of the four. As for the other two, he couldn't say as to whether they saw the lie here, because sometimes, Donnie stuttered just because he was excited or frazzled. Other times, it was definitely because he was lying. The entire time he felt a little bad for his brother. He imagined himself in his shoes and it made him sad, thinking about having to let go of a friend right after having them in his life. 

Putting a hand on his shell, Mikey shook him a bit, "You like her, bro," he whispered. 

Donnie lightly pushed him away. "She's a friend," he clarified, eyeing Mikey. 

Raph was silent for a moment while he thought about everything. He wasn't mad about the fact that Donnie has found someone as much as he was that he never said anything, kept a secret from his brothers. The four of them had a rule that went without saying; they didn't keep secrets from one another. Not about anything major, at least—which this was. He didn't even contemplate on what he thought Donnie should do about it, just that he'd hidden something significant from all of them.  

"Still doesn't change the fact that you didn't seem like you were plannin' on coming clean with any of us," Raph huffed. "Not if he didn't catch ya." He pointed at Leo. 

Donnie suddenly felt his temper flare, and he bit back, "What about you, Raphael? You constantly hide your feelings! How is it not the same thing?" 

"Except for his anger, he's pretty upfront about that," Mikey quickly added in before sinking away from the two. Leo sighed and flicked his head. Donnie was right. Raph was a hypocrite and they were getting nowhere. 

"My feelings don't endanger people around me," growled Raph, stepping in toward Donnie. They met each other half-way as Donnie wasn't about to back down from his brother, who he was not scared of. "That is absolutely different from what you're doing!"

"Guys, we need to get going," Leo stated, seeing how the moon was far its descent. "Splinter's clear about when he wants us back." 

"I'm finishing this right now," Donnie said, pulling out his phone. He opened up the messages and began typing.

Hey. Sorry for the sudden message and I apologise, but I can't do this anymore

He hadn't noticed yet, but the last text he'd received was only twenty minutes prior, right before they dipped from the crime scene they'd just handled. It read: 

Damn, I hear all this racket outside my apartment and it's kind of making me nervous

Like guys yelling and stuff getting banged

Nvm someone called the cops, I guess it's good now 

Everyone was gathered around Donnie watching the screen as he typed. Raph and Leo both caught that last message. He pressed send and it was only then he saw it, too, and everyone slowly looked at each other in recognition. Everyone was thinking the same thing. 

"Awkward," Mikey drew out. 

All were at a loss for words. When a new message pinged, they all shoved at each other to get a good look. Raph accidentally stepped on someone's foot. "Ouch! Give me some space, guys," Donnie snapped. 

What? 

What's wrong? 

Donnie looked sadly at the screen. He started typing his response, something skin to "it's complicated" followed by an apology, but Mikey stopped him. "Dude, you can't tell her that, it's gonna hurt her feelings!" Mikey exclaimed, "this is totally unfair! To both of you."

"Look, I ain't tryna be petty, but last time I checked, the rest of us aren't allowed to have human friends," grumbled Raph.

A new message popped up and it read:

Well...I won't question your decision. Bye Bo, I guess

Sighing, Donnie turned off his phone and put it away. He turned to everyone. "Happy?"

"Of course not, bro," Mikey responded. He looked around, as if expecting agreement. There was none; Raph stood away and Leo was watching Donnie's face go from annoyed to dejected. "Guys?"

Leo patted Donnie on the shoulder. "You did the right thing," he said. Donnie didn't say anything. "Alright, let's get going."

Chapter 3, part 2

[cherrehx]

okay so its 2am right now and I just thought of something really cute hhhh, so basically, how would kaminari, kirishima, todoroki and bakugou react to finding ship art or something of them and their crush?? I love your writing btw, it's so awesome 💕💕

super long wait, i know. half of this was written when bnha was still my hyperfixation, hence why it's one shots. the headcanons were written now, because i felt bad leaving out denki and eijirou. -cherry

katsuki bakugō:

it was just after nine in the afternoon. katsuki had already gone to sleep as per usual, though tonight he was rudely interrupted by loud knocking on his room's door.

"the hell do you want, loser?!", he shouted, still unsure of who was even at his door. everyone knew by now not to disturb him, so who dared to do so anyways?

getting out of bed and proceeding to open the door, the ash blond was slightly less angered when he saw eijirou standing there. said red head looked frantic because of something. bakugou honestly didn't even want to know what had got him so distraught, but he knew he wouldn't get his well deserved sleep otherwise,

"spit it out, shitty hair."

"we were looking at pictures from the sports festival online and we found something that you should maybe see for yourself!", eijirou started, realizing that he wasn't getting his friend's attention, so he added, "it's about you and (y/n)!"

kirishima was the only one that knew about bakugou's secret crush on you. that's why he wasn't laughing like everyone else in the common room; because what they found may cause complications.

after kirishima had mentioned your name, bakugou was swiftly jogging towards where almost all of his class was sitting gathered around a laptop, which seemed to be mina's, judging by all the leopardy and pink stickers on it.

"out of the way extras!", katsuki stomped over to see what all the fuss was about. from the corner of his eye he saw how you were cowering next to one of the couches, face covered by your hands. at first he couldn't understand why, but when he saw a particular piece of artwork displayed on the laptop screen, he figured you were just majorly embarrassed.

the art that his class found on google was from somebody's blog that was all about the 'heroes of the future!'. needless to say, the blog didn't only deal with the heroes, but also the relationships of them. ever since an encounter at the sports festival that a lot of people saw and shared around, you and bakugou had become a popular so called ship. (the girls explained that 'ship' didn't mean anything related to boats when they teased you about mentioned moment in front of him.)

katsuki couldn't help but feel embarrassed himself, but he also had to keep his cool to not seem suspicious. looking at the drawing of you and him one more time, the ash blond walked over to you, ignoring anything his class was saying.

"(y/n), you ok?", he crouched down to your level, poking your head once. his only response was a quiet hum, followed by a hiccup. worried, katsuki grabbed your hand tightly and pulled you outside the dorm.

the air was nice, not too hot, nor too cold. a light wind was blowing as the moon shone brightly.

bakugou gave you a little space and some time to calm down. when you did, he was quick to ask,

"what's the matter? did you get THAT embarrassed by it?"

you shook your head no. it was something more, but was this the right time to tell him?

"i was really embarrassed at first.", you started, "but then i thought about something and cried."

"about what?", the usually loud boy asked softly. silence was all he got for a good minute until you finally responded,

"you know how they say 'life imitates art'? i really wish it w-was like that..."

now you were the one getting silence as a response. did you really just say that?

"idiot, being all cryptic and shit.", katsuki tried to stay calm, even if he was freaking out on the inside, "if you want a kiss you can have it."

shōto todoroki:

mr. aizawa's classes had a pretty strict schedule most of the time: first the class would get an assignment, that they'd do until said teacher falls asleep. after that, everyone would quietly - in order to not wake up aizawa - do anything they want, really.

for shouto this was more or less just plainly boring, as he was one of the few students that actually did what they had to. he'd finish his work and then wait, because he had nothing else to do. he was most likely to bother midoriya, but today he was very into whatever he was writing down in his little book. so shouto settled for observing the classmates behaviour. well, rather your behaviour.

the half and half boy knew it was weird, but he liked watching you. he liked seeing you, especially when you were happy and smiling. todoroki knew what these 'symptoms' were, but he wanted everything to stay as it was for now.

why he had caught those feelings, he didn't know. he figured it was the way you stood out. you didn't get lost in between the others and he liked that.

while todoroki was deep in thought, ashido had walked over to your desk, where you were doing the assignment in peace and quiet,

"(y/n), look! the other's and i thought about how todoroki always stares at you so intensely, so we created these shipnames! which one do you like better?"

you looked at the paper or rather the newly created words and little pictures drawn by some of your classmates and immediately turned red. flailing your hands around a little, you lied,

"none of these, i don't...like todoroki in that way."

mina looked a tad upset at that, but she understood, nodded and walked back to her table. you sort of felt bad, having killed her excitement, but you didn't need anyone knowing about your secret crush on the stoic one.

speaking of the stoic one, he couldn't hear anything you and mina had talked about. he only saw her walking over, showing you something and you freaking out and sending her away. needless to say, he was curious what had caught you off guard so much. when shouto saw mina throwing away that suspicious piece of paper, he decided to look at it when class ended. even if he thought sticking his hand in the trash was a little gross.

the end of class came sooner than expected. shouto was packing his bag slower than usual, waiting until everyone had left. after they did, he skipped over to the trash can, pulling out the latest addition: a piece of paper that embarrassed (y/n)!

he stuffed it in his bag and carried on walking to his dorm room, where he finally felt safe looking at it, " 'ship names'? why would they want to name a boat after (y/n) and i?", he asked himself, before a certain doodle on the page explained your reaction and the girls' name-mixing. even shouto couldn't help but react in some way, thinking about said doodle happening in real life. that's when he got startled by a knock on his door.

"hey, todoroki. i know you always do your work in class, so i thought i'd come and ask you about...", you drifted off, seeing the light blush on his cheeks and his fire side burning, "...umm, am i interrupting something?"

he was hiding a piece of paper behind his back. you could see just the corner of it, but that was enough for you to identify what paper it was.

"didn't take you for the nosey type.", you akwardly laughed in order to drown out your embarrassment.

"sorry, i got curious.", he looked unusually upset, averting his heterochromatic eyes and letting his arms drop on his sides. you confirmed the paper was indeed the one that mina showed you earlier.

"did you dislike it a lot?", shouto asked without thinking.

now it was your turn to blush.

denki kaminari:

-ok hear me out

-his love language has to be physical touch

-so naturally, when you guys and the rest of the bakusquad had a sleepover, you cuddled

-platonically of course (even though both of you had feelings for one another, but shh)

-oh, but mina couldn't let this one slip

-she HAD to take a picture

-in the morning, when you were still only half awake, mina ecstatically showed her phone into your face

-"LOOK, (Y/N), YOU GUYS ARE THE CUTEST!"

-queue embarrassed (y/n) and denki

eijirō kirishima:

-i feel like with him, you had been like childhood friends

-and back in the day, you guys were all like

-"i'm gonna marry you when i'm older!"

-so you engraved a little "eijirō & (y/n)" into a tree

-years and years later you guys go back to that spot

-just because you wanted to reminisce the good old days

-you guys find the carvings

-"you know, (y/n), i still haven't changed my mind."

-"what do you mean, eijirou?"

-"i'd still marry you."

[ladyvader23]

Darth Vader, Master Hairstylist

This was inspired by @scuddington ‘s post HERE. I absolutely love Scud’s art, and this one just instantly inspired me! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time Vader learned how important hair was to little children was the day Miss Laena took PTO in the morning for an important doctors appointment. 

He figured he had this. It was just one morning. No big deal. The only difference was that this morning, he’d be the one getting the kids ready for school. That wasn’t hard. He was Darth Vader, Sith, destroyer of Jedi and Rebels alike, Commander of the Imperial Navy! He could handle school. 

He scheduled his own meetings around the conflict, he’d warned the twins repeatedly that he needed them to cooperate, he’d made sure the night before that all was prepared. Bags, lunches, homework. 

Too easy. Maybe he’d reconsider Miss Laena’s salary. 

And the morning did begin smoothly. Until Leia came running to him with a brush in her hand. 

“I gotta be pretty daddy!” She shoved the brush towards him. “Do my hair!” 

Vader froze. He...knew nothing about hair. He knew his wife had been excellent at it. When had she begun to be interested in how she did her hair? He tried to think back, but he couldn’t remember a single time he’d seen her in public without perfectly styled tresses. 

“You are a child. You do not need me to do your hair. Just brush it.” 

That of course, offended Leia. She pouted and glared. “I’m a big girl daddy, and big girls have pretty hair!” 

She literally forced the brush into his hand. 

Well. He’d mastered the Force. How hard could hair be? 

Famous last words. 

First, he was apparently not gentle enough. He tried to comb the tangles that she’d acquired overnight, and each time he did she began screaming “OW!” and crying. Horrified, he decided to instead hide the tangles and figure them out later. He pulled her hair into what resembled a ponytail and stepped back. “There. Now you will be late for school. Let us leave.” 

The hair wasn’t...exactly like it should be. It was crooked, and he wasn’t sure it was tight enough to stay in, but he didn’t want to hurt her further. And he was pretty sure she didn’t want him to try again, because she didn’t argue. 

He forgot about the incident shortly after the kids were dropped off. Miss Laena came back shortly before the end of school. He was in their home’s personal conference room, doing assignments from home, when he heard the front door open and the telltale sound of children running through the home. 

Miss Laena will take care of it. He thought, focusing back on his work…

Until he realized Leia was crying. 

He hated it when she cried. Luke, he could deal with. But Leia? Absolutely not. 

Shoving the datapad aside, he went to investigate. 

“I’m ugly!” She was wailing when he entered the kitchen. Mis Laena was trying to comb Leia’s hair and having a hard time with it. “I’m ugly!!!” 

“Who told you a ridiculous lie like that?!” Vader thundered. Leia was the image of his beloved wife. Both of them were more beautiful than all the stars of the galaxy. 

But to his surprise, Leia wailed harder. “Everyone! My hair was ugly!!!” 

“Your hair does not reflect how beautiful you are. Hair changes daily.” 

Miss Laena winced. “Lord Vader...many children want to feel pretty when they go see their friends at school.” 

“Leia is beautiful already. I do not see what the problem is.” 

“...She is beautiful, but she may not feel that way when she doesn’t like her hair...and other kids might say something if it looks...different.” 

“She is five.” 

“Even five year olds want to feel pretty.” 

Vader thought it was silly. Leia could have no hair and he’d find her just as perfect as she was with it. But judging on Leia’s reaction, she very much cared about how her hair looked. 

It was something her mother should have done. Had she lived, he had no doubt Leia would never have a bad day...or even Luke for that matter (sometimes that boy needed to run a comb through his hair, if Vader was being honest with himself). 

But Padme...was not there. And it was his fault for that. 

So it was up to him to fix it. 

First, he ordered practice manikin heads, the kind hairdressers used to practice. Then, he found online tutorials on the holonet. He watched them carefully, paying close attention to the stylists finger and brush movements. It was not unlike studying lightsaber technique. Both had a certain art to it. 

He just needed to master it. 

The first many attempts didn’t work as planned. Part of it was due to his cybernetics. They were...not made for the delicacy it took to style hair. The first few manikin heads ended up either with hair ripped out, or he’d grow so frustrated when he couldn’t get a braid right, that he’d throw the manakin off the balcony, where it fell into the lower levels of Coruscant below. 

But he was determined. He would not fail in this task. He would not be so reliant on Miss Laena that he would ruin his daughter's day again like that. 

He would be the master hairstylist. 

It took months (and countless manikin heads) to get things to where he felt he could confidently and safely try working on Leia’s hair. 

One morning, before school, he interrupted Miss Laena as she was about to help Leia get ready for school. “I have no need of your services when it comes to Leia.” He informed her confidently. “I will handle it from here.” 

He did not miss the concern that flashed through the other woman, but she wisely did not say anything. “As you wish, My Lord.” 

He entered Leia’s room. She was already dressed, though her hair, thankfully, was still a mess. “Where’s Miss Laena?” She asked, frowning when he was the only one there. 

“I am here to fix your hair problem.” He announced confidently, spotting the brush and summoning it to his hand. 

Leia did not hide her nervousness. “No, that’s okay daddy, I...I can have ugly hair today.” 

“No. You will sit down and allow me to help you.”

“No--”

“If you do not let me help you, I will ground you from your dolls.” It was an unfair threat and he knew it...but he was a Sith. He’d spent an unsithly amount of time mastering the ways of the hairdresser. He was not about to let Leia stop him now. 

Leia pouted, but sat down. “Be nice to my hair, daddy.” She warned as he approached, and he felt her genuine fear. 

Carefully, he placed a hand on top of her head and smoothed her hair down in what he hoped was a soothing gesture...and began. 

He first worked out the tangles. Carefully, in a way he knew wouldn’t hurt her. Once all the tangles were gone, he began to braid. 

The trick, he found, was not to completely rely on his metal fingers. Doing so would result in failure. The trick was to use the Force for anything that was too delicate and precarious for his clumsy hands. With a mixture of the Force and his own now well-practiced hands, he managed to braid her hair into a crown. 

He stepped back, satisfied. “You look like a princess.” He told her, and he meant it. It was hair that would make any royal princess jealous. He was fairly certain that Padme would have been quite proud of him had she seen it. 

Leia looked in the mirror...and smiled. “Wow, daddy! You got good!”

“For you, my princess...though don’t tell anyone I did it.” 

Having redeemed himself, he could have stopped there. He’d mastered enough to impress any five year old. 

But he didn’t stop there. 

Leia soon decided that she’d rather have him do her hair than Miss Laena (something he was secretly pleased about, though he’d never admit it). As she grew, so too did her tastes in hair. Occasionally, she’d be interested in a style he didn’t know how to do. But if she showed him what she wanted, he’d spend what little off time he had trying to figure it out. Once he’d mastered it, he’d try it out on her. Usually he was successful. 

Soon, he began to savor the moments when it was just him and her. She’d sit on the chair, swinging her legs happily while he worked on her hair. Sometimes it felt like they didn’t share as many interests, but when he did her hair, it seemed like it was their own “thing.” It was unsithly, and his Master would absolutely have a heart attack if he ever found out, but he didn’t care. 

Soon though, as Leia grew into a teenager, she began to need him less and less. But instead, their time together was replaced by him teaching her how to do her own hair. He’d always dreamed of teaching his children the ways of the Force, but with Sidious suspicious of that ever happening, he knew this would probably be the closest thing he could get for Leia. 

For now. 

One day, as Leia finished braiding her hair so that it looked like a blooming flower for a Imperial youth party, she paused. “You know. I’ve never told anyone you learned how to do hair.” She said. 

“That is wise.” He tried not to think of what the media would say if they ever found out Darth Vader knew almost as much about hair as any professional hairstylist. 

“Why? I mean. You’re...you.” 

He looked at her for a long moment. She’d grown to be so beautiful, exactly like her mother. And he decided to be honest. 

“Because your mother was not here to do it for you.” He replied. “I did not want you to miss out on that experience.” 

Leia turned, taking him in for a moment. Then, with a smile, she reached out and gave him a rare hug. 

He...allowed it. This time. 

“Thanks dad.” She said. “You’re the best. I don’t care what anyone else says.” 

He didn’t understand how him being good at hair made him the best…

But he’d accept it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I accept PROMPTS for this or any SW AU! 

[plaidbooks]

The Detective and the Teacher

A/N: This idea kinda came out of nowhere, but I needed to get it out of my head (like most of my stories). It’s a two-parter, and I’ll post part 2 tomorrow. If people are interested, I could make it into a longer series, but I also am kind of ok with it being short. Also, idk how to write dates, sorry

Tags: None for this part, next part will

Words: 3k+

I have a meeting with a cute guy in my class. You should come, meet him

You rolled your eyes at the text your friend sent you. She was a professor at Fordham University, teaching Risk and Crisis Communications to undergrads and graduate students. She, however, was happily married. But that didn’t stop her from finding cute guys in her class and trying to set them up with you. “They’re college students; they’re going somewhere in life,” she would argue. Besides, her idea of “cute college guys” wasn’t totally off; the main problem was waiting for someone around your age to be in her classes. You were a teacher yourself, in your early 30s, and most people taking her classes were right out of high school; way too young for you.

It was the beginning of summer in New York, so you didn’t have classes, instead volunteering at the library. Your friend, Professor Stafford, was teaching night classes this semester; sometimes she stayed after class to help a student if they asked…and they couldn’t make her office hours. So, it was 8pm by the time you were walking the halls of the University, a coffee in your hand—an excuse to meet with a friend. It was her idea; if there was a potential date for you, she’d text you, you’d come to the University with a coffee or food to deliver it to her before the meeting, then casually “bump” into the student. You made it to her classroom, handed her the coffee.

“So, what’s his name?” you asked, grinning.

She took the coffee gratefully, taking a sip before replying. “Andrew Wise. He’s one of my top students; I think you’ll really like him.” She gave you a playful wink and you rolled your eyes.

“You said that about the last three guys, and they were all snobby jerks,” you laughed.

She opened her mouth to respond when there was a soft knock on the door, a man poking his head in. “Uh, Professor Stafford? Should I wait outside?”

“No, no Andrew. Come in. This is just my friend, dropping off some coffee,” she said, beckoning him in.

You looked Andrew up and down briefly; he seemed nice, and there was nothing really wrong with him, but just the vibe he gave off had you instantly thinking, nope. You gave a smile and wave to your friend before heading out, letting them have their meeting. You didn’t feel like waiting, like trying to come up with a reason to wait, to talk to Andrew after his meeting. Instead, you wandered through the hallways, looking out the windows to the trees, the sky darkening. The sunset was slowly fading, the sky changing from the bright pinks and oranges to the pale blue of evening. You were so engrossed with the picturesque beauty of it all that you walked face-first into another person, the side of your face fully connecting with their flat, warm chest.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you said, pulling back to steady yourself, looking towards whoever you had just stumbled into. You looked forward and your eyes met chest, covered in a plain, Fordham U shirt. Your eyes travelled upwards into his face and you had to stop yourself from staring; he was, well, cute.

“It’s fine, really. I shoulda been watching where I was going,” he replied back, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. His dirty blonde hair was slicked back, his brow was furrowed, though his bright blue eyes hinted at amusement.

You smiled up at him, and he returned it, a goofy grin pulling easily across his face. “No, I was definitely admiring the view,” you gestured out to the landscape. You noticed the backpack slung over his shoulder, “and now I’m holding you from your next class.”

“No, no, I’m done for the night; just heading home actually.” He readjusted the backpack, as if your gaze had shifted it. He glanced over the balcony and towards the sky. “It really is a pretty view, huh?”

Your eyes never left him as you agreed. God, you’re acting like a teenager in a shitty romance novel, you thought to yourself, trying to snap out of whatever trance you were in.

“So, uh, do you go here?” he asked, eyes sliding back to you.

You shook your head. “I don’t, no. Uh, Professor Stafford is a friend of mine. I was just stopping by to say hi,” you explained.

“Professor Stafford? Hmm, doesn’t ring a bell. I dunno if I know them,” he said, contemplating. At some point during this conversation, you both fell into step next to each other, both heading towards the parking lot.

“Are you taking any Communications courses?” you asked.

“And that’s why I haven’t heard of them; I am not,” he grinned. “I’m a law student.” You nodded in understanding; while you thought Communications could be beneficial to a law student—to most students, if you were honest with yourself—most people didn’t take classes outside of their majors. Especially in a field that was so dependent on passing an exam.

“Well, if you ever need an elective, I highly recommend her class,” you smiled.

He chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.” You walked in silence for a moment. “My name’s Sonny, by the way. Sonny Carisi.”

It had just hit you that you never introduced yourself; with the shock of literally walking face-first into someone, then the easy conversation, it had completely slipped your mind. It was like you were old friends already. “Oh, [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. Nice to meet you, Sonny.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he gave you that goofy grin again, and you swore that you swooned right there. How did he do that with just a smile? You made it to the parking lot and found that you were parked semi-close to each other. He followed you to your car, something that you initially thought should raise alarms in your head, but something about him was calming, unthreatening.

“So,” he started as you unlocked your car. You opened the driver’s door, then leaned on it, him standing near the front of your car. He suddenly looked nervous, bashful, and it made him look even cuter. “Can I maybe buy you a coffee sometime? To, uh, make up for running into you,” he quickly added.

You felt your face grow warmer as you blushed, your heart fluttering. Did he just ask you out? “Uh, yeah. I’d like that,” you replied, unable to stop yourself from grinning broadly at him.

He smiled himself, seemingly happy that you agreed. “Great! How about tomorrow, say 10am, Cuppa Beans on 6th street?”

You quickly thought through tomorrow, made sure you had nothing scheduled in the morning. “That sounds perfect. I’ll see you there, Sonny.” With that, he made his way to his car while you got into yours. Once he was out of your line of sight, you flailed your arms in disbelief—you got a date with a super-cute law student!

 *****************

You woke up the next day early, wanting to shower and pick out something cute to wear. While you got ready, you thought back to the information you had found last night. You weren’t stupid enough to go into a date blind; you googled “Sonny Carisi” the first moment you could the night before. And when that came up with nothing substantial, you asked Professor Stafford for help. Turns out, Sonny was a nickname; his real name was Dominick. With that knowledge, you were able to find that he was a detective for the NYPD, specifically for Manhattan’s SVU department. That gave you a little bit of a pause; you couldn’t imagine having to deal with those kinds of cases, what kinds of things Sonny had probably seen on the job. You wondered if that did anything to his mind, weighed on him at all. You hoped so; someone would have to be a monster for it not to. Maybe that’s why he was a law student, maybe he wanted out. Maybe he wanted some sort of revenge against the predators that he couldn’t get as an officer; some sort of control by being the prosecutor tasked with sealing them away rather than seeing the crime scenes.

You pushed the assumptions out of your mind; you didn’t know this man, not yet. You had met him less than 24 hours ago, had a small chat. He seemed nice enough, and he was definitely attractive. You resolved to judge him based on what you gained from first-hand experience, and to shove everything you learned online, all the conjecture out until you knew more.

Cuppa Beans was relatively close to your apartment, and it was a bright, sunny day in New York, so you opted to walk. Besides, you loved the fresh air of the city, the warmth of the sun on your skin, the soft breeze playing with your hair, the cacophony of sounds that others most likely found annoying or monotonous. You wore a simple, navy blue sundress that had a white tie around your waist, a big, white bow on your hip. You made your way through the crowded streets, full of people hurrying to whatever their destinations might be. You were early; you always were. But you didn’t mind; Cuppa Beans was set up for either those who wanted a coffee and to move on with their day, or for those who wanted to sit and relax, a shelf of books on their counter for anyone to read while they enjoyed their beverage. You ordered then sat, skimming the worn spines of books until a familiar one stood out to you. You picked it out, looking at the familiar cover. Remembering one of your favorite scenes, you opened the book, flipping the pages until you found it, then you quickly got lost in the text while waiting.

“[Y/N],” a happy voice greeted, pulling you out of the book.

You glanced up, Sonny standing in front of you, his trademark grin on his face. He pulled out the chair across from you as you closed the book, putting it back on the shelf.

“Hey Sonny,” you smiled. Right then, the barista brought you your coffee and you thanked her.

“Ah, I thought I was going to buy you a coffee,” Sonny said, jokingly offended.

Your smiled widened. “You have to order something to sit here, sorry,” you explained, taking a sip. Sonny ordered his coffee, and the barista left to make it.

“It’s fine; maybe I can convince you to let me buy you lunch instead.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Are you asking me out on a second date before we’ve even had our first?”

His cheeks reddened and his eyes widened slightly. “Well, it doesn’t have to be…I mean, it can be an extension of this one?” You laughed, and he tried to switch the subject. “So, what were you reading when I got here? You seemed really into it.”

You nodded, grabbing the book once more. “It’s called Wind from an Enemy Sky by D’Arcy McNickle. It’s very good; I’m thinking of using it in my class next year.” He furrowed his brow at this. “Oh, I’m an English teacher at Townsend Harris High School…I know, I’m not a college professor at Fordham like my friend, but I like teaching high school.”

“High school, huh? I couldn’t imagine trying to teach a bunch of teenagers anything,” he smirked.

You nodded; that was most people’s reaction. But it was also that reaction that made you want to teach high school more. “It’s not as bad as people seem to think. They are people, you know. Just treat them with respect, and they’re pretty receptive. I mean, you’re going to have those class clowns, but you just have to know how to deal with them. Stimulate their minds in other ways,” you explained.

The barista gave Sonny his coffee, and he sipped at it appreciatively. “So, what’s the book about?” You started off slowly, explaining the main plotline of the book; how it followed Bull, the leader of the Little Elk tribe, and how it talked about how homesteaders came into the West, encroaching upon their land. But you couldn’t stop yourself from diving in, talking about the inherent cultural appropriation that the main antagonist has, how from the first page, you know how the story will end in tragedy, how the ecocentrism worked, and ending with how important it was for teenagers to read and understand books that were written like this; from the other side, from people other than white men.

By the end of your monologue, Sonny was blinking at you, a dazed look on his face, though something else underneath, something that looked a lot like admiration.

“I’m sorry; that got a lot more in-depth than I thought it would,” you said, cheeks turning red. Sometimes, you couldn’t stop yourself from getting into a text you really liked. Your students usually picked up on that and took advantage of it; many classes ended without the students talking because you had steamrolled over the conversation.

“Hey, don’t apologize for your interests. You just know…a lot more about themes and novels than I do,” he smiled.

You sat up at the praise but were still feeling embarrassed at the word vomit that had occurred. Taking a page out of his book, you decided to switch topics. “Tell me about yourself; how is it working as a detective and being a law student?”

Sonny’s brow furrowed, “how’d you know I was a detective?”

You face felt even warmer, and you knew you were fully red now. “I, uh, googled you last night…nothing personal, just wanted to make sure you weren’t, you know, a serial killer or something,” you laughed nervously, and he smirked.

“No, I get it, that’s smart, really. Can never be too safe.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I’ve wanted to be a lawyer for a while, now, but the timing just never seemed right, ya know? So, after high school, I just kinda went into the academy; I knew I wanted to help people, and I figured that was a good way to do it. It wasn’t until recently that I figured ‘why not’? So, now I’m taking the night classes to try and get my license, pass the bar.”

You nodded along with his story; you yourself changed your major a couple times before settling into where you were. It was definitely normal, and you believed wholeheartedly that anyone could go back to school at any point in their life, learn anything they wanted to.

“Are you going to switch out of law enforcement when you pass the bar, then? Become a prosecutor? Or are you just taking law classes to help you in your detective work?” you asked. The idea occurred to you while in the shower; knowing more about the law could help in the interview rooms, when he interrogated suspects. You knew he said he wanted to be a lawyer before, but that didn’t mean he was going for it.

“I’m…not quite sure, yet. I really like being a detective, ya know? I like helping people. I guess at this point, I just want to pass the bar; that’s where my focus is…when it’s not at work,” he explained. “I can figure out where to go after that.”

You nodded again. “I couldn’t imagine trying to work full time in…that department, and then also take college classes,” you commented. You shuddered remembering your time going to school full time and working retail at the same time.

“It can be…taxing sometimes. But at the end of the day, it’s nice knowing I’ve helped somebody.” There were unspoken words in the air, and you could hear them as if he had said them. You noticed it in his eyes, the flash of sadness as he thought about the ones he couldn’t help. But the moment passed, and his bright blues were clear once more.

That answered your other question; some cases did hit him hard. But, as you had also decided, that was a good thing; cases like that should pull on heartstrings. You noticed he had a hand on the table, and you reached up and slowly, so slowly, put your hand on his in comfort. That goofy grin reappeared on his face, and he interlaced his fingers with yours.

You both finished your coffees, then left the shop together, Sonny holding the door open for you, his hand never letting yours go. By some unspoken agreement, you both started walking down the street, hand-in-hand, arms swinging slightly. You asked Sonny about his semester and listened as he rambled on about some theory he had to memorize, or some law he had to apply to a fake case for a class. You realized that you enjoyed listening to him talk; he was very animated, dropping your hand to gesture in front of himself, then taking your hand again, before dropping it to gesture again. You smiled, then laughed as he described one of his professor’s insane expectations for how much he expected his students to read and write, wondering in awe how Sonny managed to juggle all that schoolwork plus his job.

“Do you sleep?” you finally asked, causing him to chuckle.

“Some nights,” he replied, and you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

Maybe because you were feeling bold, or maybe because he did already kind of ask you on a second date, but you replied with, “maybe I can help with that sometime.”

He stumbled a step, his hand gripping yours tighter as he struggled to stay standing, and you giggled. His cheeks were red, and he opened his mouth to say something, but then his phone rang. He dug it out, answering with a terse, “Carisi.” It was interesting watching him go from a flustered mess one moment to focused detective the next. He nodded against the phone, even though whoever was on the other end couldn’t see him. “Yeah, alright Lieu, I’ll be there in 20.” He hung up then gave you an apologetic look.

“Duty calls?” you asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, just got some new…developments on a case I’m working. I’m so sorry about this—”

“Don’t be, I get it,” you cut him off, giving him an understanding smile. If you wanted to try and continue seeing him, then this may become a habit…and you did want to try and see him, even though you’d only been on one date. You already felt a closeness to him that you couldn’t quite explain.

“I parked over at the coffee shop; I can walk you back there,” he offered, extending his hand back to you. You took his, interlacing your fingers once more, and hurried back towards the shop. Before he left, he handed you his card—you struggled not to laugh at the fact that he carried these around on his day off—and you put it in your purse, vowing to text him later that night, to set up that lunch that he offered to take you to.

“So, you do want a second date?” he asked, hopeful. You smiled; he was all in a hurry to head to the station, to get into whatever work awaited him, but he had stopped dead in his tracks at the prospect of another date.

“Of course. I had a great time today, Sonny.”

He grinned back at you, making your heart flutter in your chest. “I had a lot of fun, too. Hopefully our next date won’t be cut short.”

[self-loving-vampire]

@melancholygirlfrien said:

I have a Child Development Associate so I am literally professionally certified to tell you that yes, taking children and babies to places so they can learn how to function and see that they're a part of a world bigger than they are, is important to their social, emotional, and language development. It helps everything from motor skills to social skills and cognition Just because you find babies' cries annoying doesn't mean parents are selfish just for wanting to take their children outside. Children shouldn't be raised indoors all day in a fucking bubble because that's how developmental issue happen. If a child is isolated they can develop serious issues.

Note that there are more appropriate places you could be taking them to, for starters. Places where people can avoid the noise more easily and where it might be less disruptive.

Like, you have options beyond “indoors 100% of the time” and the kinds of locations I mentioned in my first reply to you. Like, you can still take them to places like parks, malls, and other locations where it would be less of an issue.

No it's not fucking self centered for a parent to take their baby outside because they're just doing what they gotta do , not everyone can afford child care especially people of lower socioeconomic status. There are many single mothers who have no other option but to take their baby everywhere because that's what their situation calls for. The only fucking person being self-centered and not considering the struggles of other people is you.

Again, notice the kinds of places I mentioned in my post before going off on straw arguments. My complaints about others involve places like restaurants, the movies, and airplanes.

These are not only places where a child crying can ruin other people’s experience and be inescapable, they’re also places where many of the people there are not poor and had other options for what to do about their situation.

Like, I would think differently about someone who brought their baby to a clinic’s waiting room (for example) as opposed to a flight to Miami.

Black and white thinking is not going to help you understand what other people’s issues are.

No I wouldn't tell someone whos scared of my snake to go suck it, even though I would have every right to. Like I said I understand when people have phobias of certain animals. There might be people out there who have a phobia of dogs but does that mean people who take out their dogs are being selfish and don't care about people who have trauma/phobia associated with dogs?? Fuck no, those people are just being responsible dog owners and doing what every dog owner should which is take their dog out for a walk. Just bc some people might be annoyed by their dog doesn't mean they're being self-centered and bad people.

And yet there are places where they probably should not take their dog because it would be either inconsiderate or outright banned, and if they insisted on doing so then they probably are self-centered.

Like, if you want to take your babies out for a walk or something around the house that’s not nearly as bad as what I was actually complaining about.

your life isn't gonna be fucking ruined from hearing a baby cry in public. The most you'll be is annoyed and anxious for a few moments and then it will go away. Suck it up.

Did I ever say anyone’s life was going to be ruined? Why do you make everything some kind of exaggerated strawman?

Here are some exact quotes you already forgot about:

“It’s not the worst thing but it’s still kind of inconsiderate“

“No one said anything about stopping them or suspending their rights in any way, only that noise is annoying (and especially painful to autistic people with sensory issues).“

“Um… what do you think I do? Activate Karen Mode and go bother the parents about it? Nah, I just judge them silently. I am free to complain as much as I want on the internet though.“

So:

1- I am not treating it as a huge, life-ruining thing, just a sort of dick move. Like people who cut in line or something.

2- I do “suck it up” when it happens but am 100% allowed to complain about it online anyway.

Tbh I can't keep talking to you, I think people like you should be ushered into a dark warehouse and humanely put down.

Empathy-havers are so humane they advocate genocide against autistic people apparently, over a post about baby noises being kind of annoying. I’m not even surprised because you all keep doing this every single time without even thinking about how it sounds.

Maybe you should think about how the things that make children annoying (they're egotistical, they have a hard time empathizing with  others because of their self-centered world view) are traits that you have yourself. The difference is that most children develop and grow out of that self-centered world view

If you actually read my post, the primary annoyance I pointed out was that they were Portable Sensory Hell. I made no comment about their ability to feel empathy and actually find low empathy people significantly less annoying than others so that’s clearly not it.

You're a child in my eyes tbh. Your mentality is childish. Say what you will but I would like to remind you again, at one point in your life, you were a baby, and you shit your pants, and someone had to clean up all that shit after. Or else you wouldn't be here.

You know, if you’re going to go around advocating genocide over a post about people not liking baby noises then I am 100% sure my literal child self was morally and intellectually superior to your current self already.

You know what would make me respect you more? If you owned up to the fact that you judging parents when their babies cry is a result of your low empathy and self-centered world view. I would respect you SO much more if you just said "Yo, straight up. I'm just a selfish person. I know babies can't help that they cry and it's not the parents fault but I straight up do not like that shit. I have low empathy as a person and therefore I can't really bring myself to care about babies, children, or the parents and their situation so I just judge parents because I want to. Because their kid is annoying the shit out of me. I don't care about the reasoning tbh I'm just kind of an asshole."

> Implying I care about whether or not you respect me.

Also, this isn’t even correct. At my current point in life I pretty much never have to interact with babies in any way, if I was completely selfish then it would not matter to me now whether or not people bring their crying babies into airplanes and the like. The issue just isn’t a very significant part of my life.

But the thing is that while I am low empathy that does not change the fact that I value other people’s well-being and know that crying babies make their lives worse even if just in a small, temporary way.

The kinds of parents I am complaining about don’t even think about that.

You know you're just incompassionate. So be a self-respecting sociopath and own up to that shit, please, I would respect a stone cold evill mf  SO much better than a little weasel who tries to give excuses as to their own egocentric way of thinking.

I am a narcissist, not a sociopath. Of course, if cluster B disorders are just standard insults to you then you might think all low empathy conditions are the same.

Furthermore, you haven’t shown that you understand anything at all about what low empathy conditions are actually like.

Also I find it really telling that you would prefer unrepentant evil selfishness over someone who merely understands and sides with others who are negative about loud babies. Like, actual morality is not something you seem to be valuing here.

"iF I wErE iN tHaT sItUaTiOn I wOuLd jUsT sTaY hOme!" No you wouldn't you stupid bitch because parents have to go out to buy groceries, and run errands like every other adult.

Again, you seem to be treating all of “outside the house” as an interchangeable space with the exact same norms.

Like, do you realize how it might be different to bring your child out for necessary grocery shopping than to bring them to a restaurant or the movies? Do you really think I would treat those things as exactly the same?

MOST parents, especially working-class, poor, or single parents, DON'T have that option, as I already stated. And you are showing a clear lack of regard for people who are in a tougher situation than you for judging parents when their babies annoy YOU. You are literally not putting yourself in their shoes at all bc you have no idea of even half the shit parents have to do in order to make ends meet and look after their babies.

Oh, I am well aware of how having babies will multiply your suffering, especially if you’re poor. It’s precisely why I’m never having any! 

I understand it’s a huge pain and people with children are always going on and on about how their lives became significantly more miserable as a result of it.

I think you should honestly love that screaming toddler on the plane because in a few decades she might grow up to become the nurse who will take care of you when you're old and ill.

This argument just doesn’t work one way or another. If the baby is going to help me then I will be grateful once that actually happens, not based on a hypothetical so unlikely I might as well live my life not considering it.

[yeonchi]

Sea Princesses Book Review X1: Educational Books

Raws downloaded 2 July 2021 Screencaps extracted 3 July 2021 Transcription completed 4 July 2021 Translation completed 8 July 2021

Scans, transcripts and translations available on Google Drive

This ride never ends. When will it end?

Bonne Lecture, everyone. Last year I bought, translated and reviewed the Sea Princesses main and literacy series books as a lockdown project. Back then, I said that the educational or bathtime books would not be included within the scope of my translations, but what I meant to say was that I wouldn’t purposefully shell out more of my own money to buy those books so I could translate them. I am open to translating other media, but only if someone sends me the raws or I find them online. There is also a comic series published by Editora On Line, but from the looks of the covers, they are mostly adaptations of episodes from the first season of the animated series, which makes it even more pointless for me to even make the effort to buy (or even translate) them.

Even though Fabio Yabu’s name is on the books, there is a chance that he is only created as the creator and illustrator of Sea Princesses and that the books were actually ghostwritten. The main reason why I say this is because Yabu never mentioned those books on the Princesas do Mar website when it was still up. As such, I consider such spinoff media to be non-canonical to the series because they are not official stories, but I will still judge them as if they were in order to see whether the publishers got things right or wrong.

These educational books were released by Ciranda Cultural (presumably around 2010) as a set that also includes some stickers and a CD, or is it a DVD? Yeah, apparently according to the disc, it has different content when you put it into a CD or DVD player, provided that it doesn’t confuse the DVD player (because this has happened when people tried to make CD-DVD hybrids). What’s on the disc is a mystery, but if anyone is able to rip the content from that disc, feel free to upload it somewhere (like archive.org) and shoot me a message so I can take a look at it.

For some reason, people think it’s weird for adults to mention children they don’t know personally, but regardless, I would like to acknowledge Lorena Landia, Ana Paula and Lendo Histórias because if it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t have been able to extract the screencaps (and auto-transcribed subtitles) that made the raws for these books. However, some of the videos aren’t in very good quality because they don’t show the pages to the camera for long enough for me to get a decent screenshot or the lighting is bad or they’ll have one video in 1080p and another in 360p. I’m not going to put blame on Lorena Landia (who actually read all eight books on camera) for not being consistent in video quality, however I would appreciate proper scans of the books if anyone out there is able to provide them.

Each book is 8 pages long and mostly consists of introductions about various marine animals relating to some of the princesses featured in the series, obviously including the main three, namely Polvina, Ester and Tubarina. Some of the books also mention their parents as well; we get to properly see the Stingray King and Queen, who were reduced to background characters in the animated series (and got less screentime or prominent shots than Jaune, Goldina and Flourison combined), and the Turtle King and Queen, who had a little more prominence. The Octopus King and Queen are also mentioned and that’s essentially all that we see of the parents in these books - we don’t even get to see the Whale King and Queen even though they were featured in the animated series.

Marcello is featured in the book on sharks while unsurprisingly, Marcela is not even mentioned. For some reason, Hugo isn’t mentioned in the book on turtles given that he and Tata are supposed to be twins, but I’m not that surprised either because the animated series never acknowledged it or even stated that he was the Turtle Prince (they just implied it and they didn’t even put a lot of effort into that). Surprisingly, the book on stingrays states that Soraia is Tubarina’s cousin - um, excuse me wtf? OK, I know The Legendary Fish revealed that Tubarina and Soraia were related because shark-rays exist (and stingrays are indeed related to sharks), but I’d call them distantly-related at best, not cousins. Marcello, the Hammerhead Shark Prince, is Tubarina’s canonical cousin and he’s probably more related to Tubarina than Soraia.

One final thing; the book on stingrays mentions an aquarium like the one in Guaruja, Sao Paulo. This is referring to Acqua Mundo (Aqua World), which is a 90 minute drive from Sao Paulo (same duration to Santos), but about an hour’s drive from Santos because you either have to cross the Santos Estuary (which takes about 20 minutes and costs around USD$2.30 each way) or go around via Cubatao. For relevance, here is an old photo of someone posing with a Princesas do Mar sign in front of the entrance to Acqua Mundo circa the early 2010′s (tweet credit here).

In conclusion, the educational books are just as I expected; 8-page-long books that are merely worthy of being take-home reader books for a Prep student’s reading homework - you take a book home each night, you read it to your parents, then they sign it off to say that you read the book before you take it back the next day and repeat the process. There’s not a lot of substance in them, but most of it is best left to the sticker albums, without which I wouldn’t have bothered to review the educational books in the first place. Stay tuned for my review of the sticker albums.

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

18. Am I the Adult?

Word Count: 4349 Trigger Warnings: Mentions of child endangerment

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Hazel was very excited for Grace’s upcoming birthday. She spent every day that she went outside trying to find the perfect leaf, and she DID! A very red one that would go great with her strawberry dress that would match the theme of the party she was throwing. The caretakers were going to bring Hazel to Grace’s quarters for a scheduled “play date,” and Hazel would take that time to decorate and set up gifts. Staff had gone to the store to get some things for Hazel and basically… They just grabbed all this strawberry stuff from the bargain store party supplies, so Hazel was gonna work with it. 

Grace’s caregiver had even gotten permission to take photos and post them! Which was HUGE for Hazel, as she was never able to be featured online for safety measures, but she guessed that they worked some details out in order for her to be able to be featured on Grace’s page! There would be a photo of them out there, somewhere! It may seem small, but to her, that meant so much. All of this did. 

On the morning that Hazel was setting up things in Grace’s quarters, one of the other staff members came to find her current chaperone. They were talking quietly, in that voice that made Hazel suspicious, so she listened a little harder than she might have if they had just not been sneaky. 

“I promise to take care of it personally, but she’ll be heartbroken if we do it right now.” 

That was all that Hazel heard before she had to pretend to still be doing stuff, like she hadn’t been listening in. “What just happened?” She asked.

“Oh, they were telling me what we need to do after the party. Do you need any help setting things up?”

“Hmmmm…” Hazel studied her, then shrugged her shoulders and said, “I think it’s all set.”

Grace had woken early that day, getting her morning therapy done a little bit earlier than usual. She hadn’t had the time to do any meditation or anything… which was usually her just sitting there trying to think of stuff that she was happy about. The list was short, so it tended to be a quiet time for her. Today, it was even shorter, because her thoughts were irrationally loud. This was the second birthday since her 10th that she was without him. Today was about her, not him. Hazel had asked her to wear something with strawberries on it. Whatever that kid had planned, Grace wanted to be excited about it.

“And that stinks, you know? I’ve got this really good friend in my life and I’m constantly thinking about the one that got away. The one that pushed me away. The one that hurt me. I’m still wearing his stupid charm bracelet.”

“You don’t have to wear that charm bracelet, Grace,” her psychiatrist said.

“I know this, but also… I lost my hope chest. Whenever I gave it to the police, there was even my other gifts from Simon in it. Ones that weren’t related to crimes, but I couldn’t take them out. They gave me the chest back empty and the rest of it was all evidence. This is the only gift that I still have from him, and it is sort of all encompassing too. This pumpkin, because of our visits to the pumpkin patch. This train, because that’s what took us to most of our adventures. This skateboard, the tube of lipstick, the little soldier… They ALL have a part in our childhood and our friendship. The charm bracelet tells the story of who we were before it went wrong.”

“When would you say it went wrong?”

This was a trick question, or one to make her think more carefully about her words. From 10-12 she was sneaking away to frolic with him, and while that may have been a little mischievous, it wasn’t anarchy or anything. But, whenever they were 12, she started unleashing all of the rage that she had to keep pinned up at home. Simon had rage of his own to release and seeing her so boldly accept hers helped him to do the same for his own. The next few years were borderline sociopathy… So, like… maybe it had always been wrong, but it didn’t always feel wrong. That came later.

“I’d say that it went wrong whenever it started to feel wrong for me and not for him. I think whenever I began to deny certain things in myself, he probably felt like I was rejecting them in him, and I was, a little bit. I felt like certain things should have stopped. But, that wasn’t what did it for him. For him, whenever I wanted to find my own avenues… it was betrayal.”

“Have you felt that it was betrayal?”

“No. I wouldn’t have left him or hurt him.”

“I want to focus on you more, instead of him. What do you think of when you think of betrayal?”

“Turning against someone, doing things to them that are inexcusable.”

“So, to be disloyal to someone.”

“Yes. That’s a good way to put it.”

“What would you say that you were loyal to, prior to where it went wrong?”

Grace thought for a moment. “I was loyal to Simon. When it went wrong, I was still loyal to Simon. Nothing that I did was disloyal.” She scoffed and shook her head, “Nothing that I did was disloyal, and I’ve been trying for over a year to figure out what I did, instead of being loyal enough to myself to realize that I didn’t do anything to deserve any of that. Is that what you were trying to get me to see?”

“I’ve been helping you to come to healthy conclusions, whatever you feel and know is best for you. I haven’t been trying to get you to see this so much as get you to know what you make of the information. You’ve passed over this many times. Sometimes semantics is helpful. The word “betrayal” is commonly used in gritty young adult series and memes on the Internet. “Disloyal” isn’t so much. It’s less convoluted. You were struggling to realize that you didn’t betray anyone, because you’ve heard the word a lot and it’s taken on many forms. The word disloyal has the same meaning, but for you, it felt like a different, more serious accusation.”

“Because I know I was loyal, for a fact… So I know that I wasn’t disloyal. Ma’am… You couldn’t grab your thesaurus a year ago?” Grace joked. She appreciated a new POV, for once. It felt like she had maybe made some sort of breakthrough.

.

When she got back to her quarters, Hazel and her caregiver were there and there were cheap decorations and Hazel had a sign with “Happy Birthay Grace!” written on it and a drawing of the two of them in strawberry dresses. Though, Grace had a strawberry romper in real life.

“Oh, Hazel! You are so sweet!” She cheered and picked her friend up to hug her and pelt her with kisses as she laughed. 

They played a few games, had a couple of cupcakes from the cafeteria, made dancing videos, and then talked while the caregivers ‘monitored.’ Both were on their phones and not really paying attention to the conversation too deeply. 

Eventually, Hazel said, “Whenever I was out there, I used to tell people that Tuba was my mom.”

Grace furrowed her eyebrows, “You used to say that your mom was a tuba?”

Hazel laughed, “No, Silly! Not A tuba! THE Tuba! The Mighty Tuba and her Musical Bunch!”

Grace gasped, “OOOOOOOH!!! The big gorilla with the,” she gestured towards her shoulders, “With the tubas. Why her?”

“Because I didn’t really get TV. I thought she was there with me. Every time she sang Don’t Be a Worry Baby, I just felt like she was singin’ to me. I also didn’t know that she wasn’t real! So whenever I told kids that she was my mom, they’d say stuff like, “Your mom wears the gorilla suit?” I’d just lie and say yes. Even if I switched homes and somebody said that I can call them mom… I knew that they probably wouldn’t be there for me later on, and Tuba always would. She was only a TV away.”

Grace smiled, sadly. “That’s kinda cool… You got to pick yourself a mom that you approved of!”

“You’re doing it again, Grace.”

“No, I mean it. I wish I could've picked my mom. Heck, maybe Tuba can be my mom too. That show is BIG, so I know she’s got bank.” 

Hazel laughed and Grace brushed her hair from her face to look at her. Hazel leaned into her touch and confessed, “Whenever I leave, I’m gonna tell people that you’re my mom.” Grace froze and forced a smile, despite feeling very uncomfortable at the moment. “Our little introduction… remember?”

“Right! Right…” Grace laughed and took her hand back. “I was just thinking, if you get out there and say my name… if people remember me, they might not have nice things to say. I don’t want you to have to look at me that way.”

“Grace… We’re both in here. I know how people outside are. They judge us very meanly. I won’t pay attention to them.” Grace gave her a big hug. Their gathering was over a short while later. She was happy about the gifts that Hazel made her and since she did have her old hope chest, she stuck them in there, with the leaf in the baggy, from the day that they became friends. “You can’t replace Simon with Hazel. You’ve gotta have a healthy sense of self and a healthy sense of friendship.” She said. She shut the chest, “This is healthy. I mean, we’re 12 years apart in age, but I think that as far as 18 year olds with child friends goes, we’re doing great. No, 18 year olds aren’t usually friends with 6 year olds, BUT, they also aren’t usually in an institution for a year.”

Whenever I leave, I’m gonna tell people that you’re my mom. “You really should have nipped that in the bud. You’re not her mom, and never could be. It was wrong of you not to remind her of that and to advise her to look at you as just another patient here that happens to care about her. You’d make a terrible mom, and you’re returning to the cycle of being a terrible friend. NO! I was a good friend! I was loyal.” She took a deep breath and sat down to meditate. 

.

She awoke with a start and put her hand over her chest. For some reason, she’d thought that she heard some loud crash or something. But, now the room seemed totally silent and it was too dark to see if anything was out of place. She took a deep breath and laid back down. “Grace!” A loud whisper called. She screamed, but a small hand cupped her mouth. “It’s me.” Hazel.     

“Hazel?” Grace said, removing the girl’s hand from her mouth. “How did you get in here?”

“The vents,” Hazel said. “We’ve gotta go!”

“Yeah, back to your room, before you get in serious trouble, young lady.”

“They’re sending me away,” Hazel said. Grace’s heart stopped. Hazel continued, “After the party, they started packing up my things and making inventory. They’re sending me to a foster home!”

Grace wanted to cry, but she knew this was good news for the child, even if she didn’t seem to. “Hazel, that’s great! You get to get out of here.”

“I don’t want to get out of here! Here is where you are,” Hazel sobbed. 

Grace sputtered air and collected Hazel to herself. “Hey… I know that this is rough. It’s scary out there. But your workers care about what’s best for you. If you’re getting out, that means that you’ve gotten better. They don’t wanna keep you here if they don’t have to.”

“It doesn’t mean that I’ve gotten better. It just mean that I’ve had some good days! Whenever I start having bad days, then what? They’ll put me back in a place like this, and what if it isn’t here? What if it’s not with you? I have bad days because I get scared and the turtle is the only thing that keeps me safe. I haven’t had bad days because I’m with you and I know that you keep me safe!” Grace rubbed her arm and Hazel climbed on her and held her tightly, sobbing. “We’re supposed to protect each other, and they’re sending me away.”

“It’s okay. Just hold on to me. It’s okay.” She let Hazel sleep there, but as soon as the sun peeked through the blinds in the morning, she scooped her up to take her to the staff. 

Hazel hoped that maybe this little scheme would land her a longer stay, but all they did was revise the way that they rooms were, to try to ensure that she couldn’t get to the vent to crawl through it. She was filthy and needed to be made presentable before it was time for her social worker to collect her.

“Did she have something with her?” the staff asked.

“No. Not that I saw. I could check the room, I guess. It was pretty dark whenever she showed up. What am I looking for?” Grace asked. 

“We’ll send someone to search her room and then stop by yours.” 

They didn’t want to tell her. She went back to the room searching, not knowing what for. Her caretaker was waiting outside and would check in with her every few minutes. She was in her room that day anyway. After searching everywhere, she sat on top of her chest and surveyed the room. Maybe she left whatever it was in the vent? She moved to try to push the chest and see if it could help her to reach, but she noticed that the flaps weren’t secured. She opened it and there it was… a file. Hazel Doe. 

Grace’s hands shook as she picked it up. She didn’t know if Hazel put it there because she wanted to take it with them wherever she wanted to run away together to, or if she just needed Grace to see her. Whatever the case, Grace picked it up and began to read it.   

The medical reports from being left in the bushes at almost 2 (and unable to walk by that time???) She was malnutritioned, had multiple illnesses picked up from the elements, was covered in insect bites, some very infected, had drugs in her system, organ issues… GOD! This kid had it tough. They had her in a children’s hospice… They didn’t even expect her to survive. But, she did. “Of course she did. She’s a trooper.” 

However, she suffered from some behavioral problems from age 3 on, thought to possibly be related to exposure/ingestion of drugs from a parent via neglect or breastfeeding, though she began recovering at the time... Bounced around to multiple homes between ages 3-5 (the turtle “transformation” began at age 4, too early to consider a dissociative disorder), and from children’s mental health centers to foster care from 5-6… 

Hazel… was probably correct in thinking that she might be sent elsewhere again. This poor kid had been bounced around like a pinball. That’s not even covering some of the incidents surrounding her turtle persona, like crawling out into the street and nearly being hit by a car at one of her homes, prompting them to send her to get help… eating poisonous leaves and having to be rushed to the ER… She had emotional AND physical trauma. More than Grace could imagine, and all Grace wanted to do was to help her. She hoped that the help would be in finding a proper family. All she knew for sure was that the mature thing to do was not get in this girl’s way of help just because she was lonely. She had been down that road before.

Her caretaker peeked in and Grace said, “Oh! I think I found what they were looking for. Hazel’s file.” 

She came to retrieve it, “That girl’s definitely crawled those vents before. Got into the office. Hers was on the desk, because they were going to put it in the outpatient ones as soon as she leaves...Did you read this, Grace?”

“Who do you think I am?” Grace asked, avoiding answering honestly. The tears in her eyes said it all. “Do you think they’ll let me say goodbye to her, when she leaves?”

“Sure. I’ll set that up while I go bring this back to them.”

“Can you also get her a gift from me?”

“I can take you to pick something out. Get ready, and we’ll go when I get back.”

Grace didn’t go out much, but sometimes, her caretaker took her on trips to the store, a food place, or just to the mall to grab something really quickly. As long as they had the proper permissions, it was fine. She could take her out more, but Grace wanted to be inside the amount of time that she was. 

She couldn’t seem to decide on a gift though. None of this stuff could say, “Sorry that life has treated you so poorly that I seemed like a good mother figure. Hopefully, it’ll stop doing that shit to you.” She heard Don’t Be a Worry Baby playing and followed the sound. There was a huge Tuba display with toys, games, and other fanfare. She found one of those oversized birthday cards and looked in it. It was too birthday-ish, so she put it down. Hazel didn’t need any of the keychains or... lighters? Why would there be Tuba lighters? Grace picked up a stuffed Tuba, with speakers on the inside of her tubas. When she pressed the try me button, it began to play the song from the tubas. Grace put it in her cart and went to look at the other cards that weren’t for birthdays. She found one with a turtle on it that read, “You’ve come out of your shell!” And on the inside, the turtle is still in its shell but it reads, “Just kidding, but you’re turtley cool, no matter what!” She cried as she put it in the cart too. Her caretaker placed an arm around her and led her to the checkouts.

Hazel looked like a different kid whenever Grace arrived to see her off. She wasn’t smiling. She just seemed defeated. “Hey… I came to give you something to remember me by…” Hazel’s eyes looked up at Grace, but she wasn’t prepared to change her face yet. Grace presented her with the card and the Tuba stuffie, which she liked a lot and hugged her for them. She still seemed… sad. “Also…” Grace took off her charm bracelet and placed it on Hazel’s arm It was too big. 

“Grace, this is the only good thing that you have left of your friend.”

Grace shook her head, “We laid that to rest in the bush, remember?” Hazel started crying and Grace knelt to her level. “Hazel. You are going to do so well. You’re smart, brave, special, a survivor. You are so much better than so many of us already, and in the right space, you’ll become even greater.” Grace was crying too, but she meant it all. 

Hazel jingled the charms on the bracelet and said, “I have this. You keep her.” She gave Tuba to Grace. I know that you’ll take care of her.” 

That defeated the purpose of Grace buying it, but she said, “I’ll guard her with my life.” 

As Hazel got into the car with the social worker, the woman said, “I’ll speak with the family about allowing you to keep in touch. They might be open to it…” Grace nodded. 

Hazel rolled the window down and said, “Good luck Grace,” before the car pulled away and Grace finally let herself cry as hard and loud as she wanted to. She also determined that she needed to get out of here as soon as possible… She was ready, right? Or very close to it…

.

The semester was nearly over, which meant very little to him, with the exception of midterms, because his work schedule was a constant, anyway. He had numerous projects, several business ventures. The man rarely slept and always woke up in a rush to move along with whatever was happening for him. 

Currently, he was looking at the plans for a weapon that he had been trying to design for an electrical engineering project. Professor Hughes had commented that his choice of a weapon, of all things, for the project was, “bold and unexpected.” He knew that to mean that she did not support his decision and would be extra hard on him for making said decision. Therefore, the product had to be perfect.

Simon had become interested in weapons designs. He didn’t necessarily switch interests so much as he liked to explore various mediums within the fields of study that he was involved. For some reason, he liked the thought of pioneering a new and amazing weapon. He started some theoretical designs a few years ago as equipment used in his fantasy novel, but now he was officially working on one.

His other projects included robotic action figures, software for a virtual reality social network, and his most ambitious stunt - carrying on Professor Hughes’ noble work of nanotechnological eugenics… She left behind the attempts within the past couple of years, but Simon found it fascinating a thought - to be able to use science in such a way that perhaps mankind could be better physical specimens. The woman had lost her fiance in an accident and became obsessed with artificial evolution and the concept of building stronger bodies - more durable humans, without robbing them of their humanity. She made several various attempts in several fields of engineering until eventually realizing that even if she did find an ethical way to proceed with any of her work, it would never bring her lover back.

Simon was of the mindset that maybe it could, given the right possibilities. If it could do that, it could also potentially grant humans immortality. But, he never actually said that much out loud. He simply just became fluent in her research and devoted to progressing it. Many scientists had gone off into trying to establish wider boundaries of the human body and human experience. Professor Hughes wasn’t the first or even the brightest or best... But, she had research and work on the matter that was more advanced than anything he’d ever been privy to, and he was confident that he was better and brighter than her.

He had other things for other classes, too, but those listed were the main ones that he knew would take a while and also could change the world if he was successful.If he started right out of the gate on his biggest ideas, he’d have more time to work through them during his educational journey.

He still kept various tabs open, but now that was done on three different laptops that he carried with him. NO distractions while working, so he generally had his phone both muted and put away. After several hours in whichever lab he was working out of on any given night, he would pack everything up, grab his skateboard and head home while listening to a podcast or something. 

Checking his messages on the way home, he saw one that was from somebody with a pic of red lips as their profile (he assumed they were likely fringe Apex) and the caption, “Is this YOUR Grace?” 

He looked at a report of a woman with a bountiful afro, sunglasses and bags getting into a car. He read the caption, “Will Teen Queen Grace Monroe be Home for Christmas?” He stopped to read about how the reports claimed to have not only seen her getting into this vehicle outside of a mental health facility, but to have seen her on the campus of the Monroe estate, and a few times around Monroe Square’s gated community. Reports were unsure if the prosperous princess is home to stay or simply allotted a visit for the holidays. 

Simon felt something nagging at him whenever he saw her face in the photo. Whenever she was inside, and all of random moments he might come around an image of her was either old or from the institution, she still felt like a concept that no longer touched his life. Like old photos of his sister. He could look at them and remember, but he could also put them aside and forget her. If she was out now, who knew what she would try? She can’t harm you. She can’t affect your work. You solved that issue…

Or, you created a bigger problem. Had you just let her go, you could call her and see how she was doing. Had you just let her go, you’d have been ok by now, instead of wondering if she’s going to try to strike back. You know her better than anybody. She’s the vengeful type, just like you. Strike first! 

“No!” He grumbled and a passerby stared at him momentarily before awkwardly moving away. “She’s not going to come anywhere near me. I showed her what I’m capable of. She’s done. Over with. She’s not going to do anything but try to get on with her life… without me.” He felt a pang in his heart. If she was out, that meant that whatever damage he caused had most likely been repaired. Maybe she was better than ever now, stronger than ever. Without him. He played one of his music playlists made specifically for The Void, and got onto his skateboard. Sleeping pills tonight, it is. 

Next

[honeyrose-tea]

this has been a strange start to the new year for sure. how are you doing? what did you think of the situation in the capitol? any thoughts or worries about the rest of the month? I'm curious to hear your thoughts on everything. -🌙

thank you so much for the ask💞 almost every day I check my inbox anticipating the next time I'll hear from you. just knowing that someone cares.... it really does a lot for my self-esteem. I don't have many friends right now and the few I do are very busy and have a lot of things they would rather do than talk to me. thank you for making time to listen to me and ask me how I'm doing. you wouldn't believe how many people don't. I haven't always been the most consistent presence for you and I'm sorry. I'm trying to do better and be less selfish because I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of that. thank you for always being kind to me, pen pal.

there is a lot I want to say regarding the capitol and the situation in the country in general. as a social science student (and hopefully one day a professor!) these situations are of great academic interest to me. as a bisexual woman and an informed US citizen who cares about my rights I am also very personally vested in American issues. but first I would like to tackle your question regarding how I'm doing:)

I'm doing pretty good. classes have started back up but most of mine are online. I'm thinking of switching to online exclusively because of how much emotional (and sometimes physical) labor in-person classes are, and also for the sake of my health and my parents'. it's funny how so many things we did with ease before the pandemic seem so burdensome now. even small interactions are anxiety-inducing now, and I find myself having a hard time socializing even casually. like a muscle that has atrophied without use, my social skills are awful now. on a happier note, my productivity and creativity are both at all-time highs since social interactions aren't using up all my energy anymore. I brought my record player to my dorm room and I've been listening to a bunch of music, I've also been writing and recording some music of my own. I have a couple of demos and if you or anyone else is interested, I'll post them on here. once I record and edit full band versions I'll put them up on my soundcloud. I've tried sharing some of my stuff with some friends but none of them really care and I don't want to annoy them. besides, it's more for myself anyway. I wang to prove to myself that I can make music and that I can say something worth saying. a lot of my struggle over the past 6 months has been that I feel as though nothing I do or say can change anything, that none of my actions matter. I struggle a lot with control and I've been working on it for years, but it's still really hard for me. anyway. I'm enjoying class and what I do outside of it. I've been in my element living alone again (in my dorm) and feeling free to wear/do/say what I want, when I want. I wash my dishes and sing to myself and manage my time and drink lots of artificially sweetened and heavily flavored coffee without anyone around to judge me. and I get to cry and masturbate when I want, both of which are helpful in regulating my moods. I don't know. it's not like I'm doing anything exciting, but I am doing each thing I do well and with a happy heart. I feel like this portion of my life is something of a hibernation- the winter seasons combined with the pandemic have me in a cozy little daydream, reading and self-reflecting and getting back in tune with myself and my passions. I have a feeling that the spring and summer will be very vibrant bustling months so I am trying to enjoy my rest and soak in as much knowledge about myself and the world around me as I can. it's hard for me to live in the present and not get antsy (connected to control issues, I think) but I'm getting better at it. on the subject of the future, I've also been using this time to look into grad school and prepare for the GRE (a standardized test required for most grad school applications, similar to the ACT/SAT). I'm learning a lot that I didn't know since neither of my parents went further than undergrad, and I'm getting excited. I'm really looking forward to doing research. I've already been collecting some thesis ideas for an undergraduate-level thesis that I have to complete next year for the honors college, and hopefully I can turn that into a masters and/or PHD thesis when the time comes. now, on to more important matters than my silly little life.

I have very complicated feelings about america. I do have some attachment to some of the original ideas that are at the foundation- "bring me your huddled masses...", "all men are created equal", the general spirit of democracy, etc.- all of these are valid and worth keeping (in some form) to me. I think a lot of good people and ideas exist around us and I believe that we must be as empathetic and kind as possible to one another in order to navigate the current climate and preserve the good that we do have. that said, america was also founded on some pretty terrible, bigoted principles and our history- as well as our present- is marred by injustices. our society has become highly individualistic because of capitalism, and it has resulted in considerable division on every level. the competition that fuels capitalism is like an invasive species of plant, it does not only exist within our economy but it slithers out into our social world and the way we relate to others. I think capitalism coupled with our post-enlightenment founding is the source of most all of our problems as a country. capitalism has taken root in america in a way more malicious and all-consuming than in any other culture, because it was there at the beginning of our country and all of our social norms have grown out of it. many other cultures have existed long before capitalism and though it has modified their culture, it has not altogether become it. because america was founded on capitalism, we have no cultural identity outside of it. america is, itself, capitalism. that is precisely why america is experiencing all of the best and worst parts of capitalism at their most extreme. it is why, as I mentioned previously, we are perhaps the most divisive and competitive society in the modern world, and probably in history. we are the richest and most powerful country but we have the largest wealth gap and incarceration rate, among many other extremes.

all of this is to say that the rise of Trump and fascism in this country has been a long time coming, and unmistakably inevitable. to defeat it we will have to break america down to its fundamentals, throw out everything that is unethical and unjust, and rebuild our entire society from there. this is radical and hard to imagine, it will also be very difficult to execute, but I strongly believe that much of our societal systems just cannot be reformed, they must be thrown out and replaced.

the capitol riots were inexcusable and sickening but decidedly inevitable. this has been steadily building for america's entire existence. I think it will get worse before it gets better, as there are already plans for bigger and more numerous protests across the country in the following weeks. that said, I feel hopeful as I see the anti-fascist movement grow in the wake of fascism, I am hopeful as I see many people being radicalized and awakened to the realities of this country's failings. I don't know how exactly we will even begin to rid ourselves of the biases, prejudices, and downright hatred that plagues our country. I don't know how we will relate on an individual level to those with such deeply-ingrained hate in their hearts. I don't know how we will change our systems of government and economy to reflect new cultural values that we begin to build together. I am not sure what the future will hold. I do believe, however, that we will triumph over this moment and that the future will be better. I think that the only way to radically change and unite so many vastly different people and remove the blinders from their eyes is through a terrible, historic awakening like the one we are having now. the situation itself is awful, but I am hopeful that out of this mess we become a nation more committed to justice and to some of the ideals which we have falsely claimed to be emulating for our entire history.

so yes, I am worried about the next few weeks, months, and even years. there is no end to the pursuit of a just society, and I think every informed citizen is always a bit apprehensive about certain aspects of their culture. there will always be problems to combat and injustices to rectify, but I think that we will soon be moving to a better place, that we will remember these moments and say, "never again". I am hopeful, despite seeing some of the worst of humanity in recent days, that these atrocities will bring positive change.

I know that was long and instead of discussing issues about the capitol, or even just current political issues, I expanded the scope considerably and dragged in a lot of things from history and grander sociopolitical theories. still, I think it is hard to talk about the insurrection attempt without talking about a lot more. thank you for reading my takes and caring about them. I spend a lot of time thinking about these things, and it feels nice to share them with someone other than my annoyed professors who want me to shut up so they can finish the lecture and stick to their semester schedule.

I hope you're well and that you're staying safe and healthy. are you in school now too? have you or your family had the virus? thank you for coming to talk to me, I always enjoy it. I'll talk to you again soon💞

[uncloseted]

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1/2 Hi. I think I could use some help, I'll try to make this short. When I was 14yo (I'm 20 now) I dated a 18yo guy, thank God we were taking it slow and never made things official. Now that I'm older I can see that relash was rlly wrong. He was manipulating, used me to boost his ego, forced me to do things I wasn't comfortable doing and I think although we weren't official, he cheated on me? (more on that later). After a few months of fooling around, I found out something about him that I didn't like and confronted him about it, with the intention of ending that relash. He started begging me not to leave him, asking me tricky questions about the things I had heard of him with the intention of "making me realize" he did nothing wrong, and he even became violent with the person who told me those things, to the point I couldn't break up with him because I was scared. I just stopped answering his texts and calls because I was afraid of even talking to him and eventually he took the hint and suggested we broke up. We decided to stay friends, but that only lasted a few days, because one day, via Facebook Messenger, he suggested we got back together and I rejected him, so he blocked me. Months later, I had to close my Facebook due to harassment (not related to him) and opened a new one. Facebook showed me his profile in 'people you may know' and I decided to peek out of curiosity. Turns out, the moment we broke up, he started uploading photos with his new girlfriend. The descriptions of those pics said the exact same things he used to tell me, and I ain't good a math but I did some calcs and he had to be with her while still being with me lmao. I really didn't care, I was just happy I got rid of him, and I moved on with my life. Some time later I fell head over heels for a guy from my workplace, who I still hold close to my heart. I have trust issues and I am a very private person, especially with my relashs, so I didn't tell anyone about this guy except from like 3 friends. One of them was a girl (that we'll call Anne) who was like a sister to me, and was also friends with my ex. Over the next 2 years I had a relash with this guy, everytime I talked to Anne I used to tell her more details about my relash. Then, one day, I got a text from my ex. He texted me like we were besties and nothing had ever happened between us, like he didn't block me TWICE (yeah, he blocked me from my new Facebook too even though I never tried to reach out to him). I was angry at his nerve and told him so, he realized I was upset and changed his persona from confident and tough as nails to regretful and soft, telling me he was sorry for being so immature all those years before, but excusing his shitty behavior by saying he always "kept an eye on me". Um, wtf? He told me he was always asking stuff about me to Anne, looking out for me. I wanted to know what exactly he knew, but, trying to manipulate me again, he said he would only tell me if I accepted to play a game with him: I could ask him one question if he would ask me one in exchange and so on, and we had to be ttly honest with each other. I really didn't wanna get into his shenanigans but I only had one question (wtf do u exactly know about me, creep?) so I accepted. He asked his question first (dID u fEeL sAd wHeN i bLoCkEd U?) and I asked mine. I thought he maybe knew something about my school stuff and MAYBE that I had been dating someone else. Turns out he knew every. single. detail about my personal life. Not only he KNEW I was with other guy...

2/2 Not only he KNEW I was with other guy. He knew his entire name, the school he attended and every little detail from our relationship and other stuff about my personal life. Every single thing I told Anne, opening my heart to her, she told him. I felt terribly violated. I felt like a dissected frog, open for anyone to see my most inner parts. I felt ashamed, unprotected, sad and angry, all at the same time. I told him what he did was disgusting, to never reach me again or try to "keep an eye on me", and that I would make that job easier for him by getting Anne out of my life. He apologized, said he understood the situation, would respect my wishes, and wished me a happy life. I thought that was it. It took me a while but I got to heal, to feel safe again, although I still have a hard time trusting my friends. But I was wrong. Months later he sent me a Friend Resquest. I was a lil afraid, but tried to calm myself saying he probably just was checking if I was still upset, so I rejected the request and again convinced myself that was really it. But then he sent some girls to take pictures of me during my high school graduation ceremony and recently, his cousin (who was my friend when we were 14 but haven't talked since) texted me. I know that sometimes nostalgia makes you reach out to old friends, but we weren't close at all. Besides, he acted super weird, didn't even try to make small talk or let the convo flow naturally, but went straight for super specific and weird questions: are you studying college? what are you doing with your life? are you in a relationship? I was really weirded out and considered the possibility he may have been asking all those things because my ex asked him to do so, so I kept my answers short and vague, not giving him the info he wanted, and although I def came out as cutting, he kept asking. I tried to still be friendly because I didn't wanna seem paranoid, but I think he realized I wasn't telling him anything over texts, so he asked me to meet again over some beers with his friends on October 27th and that's when I stopped answering. I thought about that strange invitation for a few days until it hit me: October 27th is my ex's birthday. So much about respecting my wishes. I spent the rest of that month really nervous that cousing would try to reach out again, but nothing happened and I started to feel calmed again. Until, in November, he wrote me again, this time asking me if I wanted to go to the beach with his friends. I haven't even bother to open that text. Since them, I've been super paranoid. I know my ex's attacks aren't that consecutive (more like every two years: he contacted me and sent me that friend request when I was 16, hijacked my graduation at 18 and now sends his cousin at 20) but I can't help but think he's always there "keeping an eye on me" and planning his next move. I stopped accepting any friend requests because I'm afraid he will send someone for me, and if someone I already have on my friend list but idk texts me and after some small talks asks me about my life, I get paranoid and ask them why they wanna know and if they have some hidden intentions. Also, there's a mall near his house, and everytime I have to go there to buy something, I feel like crying because I'm afraid I'll stumble with him. I probably sound crazy. Some people may think I'm exaggerating and I should just let my ex stalk me and act all obsessed, but I feel dirty everytime I think about him knowing my personal stuff. It was just so traumatizing the first time. Do you get me? I feel like nobody gets me. Please help me, what can I do? I don't know how to make him stop, I'm tired of living in fear.

Not to start this off with an unrelated thought, but when did Tumblr get rid of its character limit on asks? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it let someone send in a message this long in one ask.

To get to your situation, I can definitely see why this would be a stressful and uncomfortable situation for you.  The first thing I would do is to stop interacting with your ex and people related to your ex.  You don’t owe his cousin anything.  Block both of their numbers, block their social media accounts, etc., and do that for everyone else who’s friends with your ex (or put them on limited profile/create a “close friends” list on social media).  Tell all of your friends in no uncertain terms that you don’t want them talking about you to your ex, even if it’s stuff that seems harmless, and cut those people off if they do talk to your ex about you.  

The other action you could take is to file a restraining order.  If you go down that route, you’ll have to fill out some forms and file them with the court, and then have a hearing with a judge where you explain your situation.  Then, you’ll have a second appearance in court where the stalker is present, and you both get the opportunity to explain the situation.  The judge will then determine the final order and the conditions of that order.  It can be a bit of an involved process, but it may give you some peace of mind.

The last thing I would suggest is going to therapy.  It seems like you’ve been through something traumatic, and a mental health professional can help you to work through that and move on from it.  There are many options for therapy, both online and in-person.  If you have health insurance, your insurance should cover at least some therapy sessions.  If not, some therapists provide services on a sliding-scale, and online services like BetterHelp can be less expensive than traditional therapy. 

[soyouareandrewdobson]

Digging through the archives 1: The ReBoot drama

Hello and welcome to one of the first “subsections” of posts I am going to make on this tumblr for the sake of an easier overview. This one is titlted “Digging through the archives”, because it will always relate to something I will find by literally looking for some of the oldest “opinion” or personal related stuff about Dobson that there is. So think of this here less as me tackling his comics and more of my own version of what the Hypocrisy of Andrew Dobson does.

With that explanation out of the way, lets just briefly talk about Dobson and his idea of fan entitlement; If you have followed Dobson throughout the last year or so, you know he has a very low opinion on fans of the original She-Ra and He-Man, 80s cartoons in general and Star Wars, to the point he thinks the people behind it are all potential alt righters (link red flag comic) or basically man children.

 To anyone who knows Dobson however, it would be no surprise now to learn that he has a tendency to be the same kind of way to other people and creators. Like when he whined to an actual writer on a Frozen related property about the necessity of giving Elsa a girlfriend, which even resulted in Aaron Sparrow being involved at one point, a professional animator and comic writer on the Boom Comics related Darkwing Duck issues. A prime example on how Dobson will literally make himself also unsympathetic to the people he wants to work for/with.

 But then there is what I found in relation to a little animated series by the name of ReBoot and that is really where both his entitlement and egotism kinda shine.

For those unaware: ReBoot was a computer animated adventure show produced by Mainframe Entertainment and ran from 1994 to 2001. It is actually listed as the first fully computer animated cartoon out there and is fondly remembered by a lot of people. Unfortunately, I myself have never watched it so I can’t give a “valid” opinion on it. All I have seen so far are clips on youtube but I will admit that what I have seen in them looks fun and intriguing, even if the animation at parts (especially in season 1 related content) has not aged that well. But hey, early computer animation, that is forgivable. And any media that manages to make an episode that is also in a way a huge tribute to Evil Dead of all things in a children cartoon is a big win for me.

Now, how is ReBoot connected to Dobson? Dobson has been a fan of ReBoot, a fact he made publicly known when in 2007 rumors of a continuation of ReBoot emerged. Something Dobson, again, the man who is pissed about the entitlement of She-Ra fans, has not been very happy about.

But Dobson, what is so wrong about being “different” from the past? After all, let the past die! The original show had terrible artwork! And not everything back in the day was good, right?

 Yeah, it is pretty obvious how his complaining and stands against “modern” fans ring pretty hollow when he himself acted as the entitled brat he thinks critics of new She-Ra and Thundercats Roar are, back in 2007 already. Also I honestly feel that at the very least the creators of that idea gave their fans still more “control” than Rian Johnson did. And we all know how much Star Wars suffered in terms of reputation because of it.

BTW, this webcomic continuation mentioned? It is actually not just a rumor that went nowhere, but one of the most fascinating aspects I found when reading up on ReBoot via Wikipedia. The idea was that of the five potential pitches (so again, there was variety given that even could have been expanded on) people could choose one that would be further adapted. Additionally the people behind the idea were looking for more active input by fans, giving people the chance to apply as artists working on it if they decided to submit samples people could vote on. Something Dobson jumped actually on. And tried to manipulate in his own favor

 The thing that catches my attention at first is how hyperbole Dobson is. Claiming the fate of the show is in their hands and treating voting on this thing like it’s a live or die situation, with pointlessly writing stuff in caps as if we are reading the headline of some trashy newspaper article. It just comes off less as someone who is a fan and more of a fanatic of the show. Second, I just find it hilarious that of all the plattforms online Dobson decided to post that “VERY IMPORTANT” information people should act immediately on, was deviantart. Did he genuinely expect people would flock to what he wrote in order to immediately do something about the vote? Deviantart even back then was mostly for posting fanart, few people read journals and even less people cared for ReBoot. I don’t know if the /co/ board of 4chan existed back in 2007 already, but he would have had more success posting on there and get the information out, than on dA.

 Lastly, the shameless self promotion. Stating he does not care which pitch wins, when only three day prior he whined how they all suck and he wishes the show would be done justice by someone. That someone obviously being him, the person who is so hardcore as a fan, because he already waited 8 years just to watch season 3. Damned be any other artists or pitches that may be better or more popular than him, HE is the true messiah and that is his chance to shine. So don’t be “neutral” and judge fairly based on actual competence, talent and effort, just vote for him blindly or else Trump wins the second term and your beautiful nation turns into the fourth rei- I mean,  Dobson will be a very sad guy who has come to terms with the fact he is not talented enough to work on a reboot/continuation of his favorite children show.

Well, it seemed to have had some impact though, as four day later he posted this

 And obviously Dobson is pissed his favorite pitch did not win and instead of being grateful for the good ratings some of his artwork got he focuses instead on the fact that his Enzo and Megabyte pic had the lowest rating. Which in my opinion it kinda deserved. I mean, look at those artpieces:

Enzo is okayish looking but the rest? That is not Megabyte and a genuine background, it is a cola light version of the entire Ripley disaster with the Samus Artwork commission. Also, Enzo’s hands just look weird. His fingers more alien than they need to be and the position of his legs not really adjusting to how the hip is supposed to move. The comic sample page that Dobson drew being okay overall, aside of the fact that Enzo in one panel HAS FOUR INSTEAD OF FIVE FINGERS ON ONE HAND DESPITE HAVING FIVE FINGERS IN A PREVIOUS PANEL. I am also not really a fan of how Dobson puts emphasize on the word “FAN” and “PAGES” in the post, indicating he thinks he is a better and bigger fan than any of the people who submitted their entries too, off handedly praising them but also making it obvious he thinks he is the most fit for the job, because he can also “copy any artstyle” and adjust to the needs of his superiors. Yeah, sure. That’s why you are nowadays and with even more time and effort put into your work so “good” at imitating Ladybug, your comics look exactly like in the show…

 Now considering that Dobson does not have ReBoot under his resume and likely tried his best to bury any enthusiasm for it, you can imagine how this chance at being an official artist ended up.

 Not even much of a follow up or introspective in why he may have not won. His enthusiasm died within two days.

And honestly, I am surprised that as a result he did not fake depression and rage quit doing comics for a month or so as he did here and there.

And that is pretty much the end of the ReBoot drama, at least as far as I know.

If you are interested what happened with the comic project, here is what I managed to gather:

The project did actually not die in development, but “ReBoot: Arrival” would be reimagined under the name “Code of Honour” and be published online in three “issues” over the course of the next few months. The comic’s status as “canon” continuation of the show is however very much in the air, as quite a lot of people think it is something of a fanfiction, others think it is a good enough continuation that unfortunately still does not deliver on an “ultimate” ending of the franchise. That said, with additional plans like a movie trilogy never been realized and the “reboot” known as “ReBoot: The Guardian Code” having been perceived as an insult by fans and a disappointment by most audiences (which Dobson was surprisingly silent about) this comic seems to be the best thing fans can still hope for and read.

Yeah, I am not even kidding. The comic is still up. Here, have two links to independent pages if you want to either read it for the first time or revisit it for the sake of nostalgia.

As for Dobson, if he reads this, I just have one thing to say to you: Don’t you ever again try to whine about how entitled fanboys are, if you felt entitled enough yourself you tried to manipulate a competition in your own favor in the hope to become a writer and then exploit ReBoot for your own agenda and benefit.

[profiler-in-courage]

I am humbled 16 people have read my Claes Bang detective bullshit lol. Here is Ch. 2 & 3. Long af as always.

(I have yet to think of a title. Someone send me suggestions plz)

Chapter 2. 

The 7th Precinct was a media frenzy when Emerson pulled up. By 8 am, all the local news outlets had received some tip about the latest murders and it looked like all of them had sent a reporter. 

Emerson scanned the outside of the building, trying to find an entrance that wasn’t guarded by media. He stuffed case files he had taken home into his messenger bag and slung it over his shoulder, ready to walk-sprint. 

He lowered his gaze to the ground. Eye contact was what got you. 

As he reached the sanctuary of a door, he mentally congratulated himself on  avoiding the bombardment of questions he quite frankly, wasn’t prepared to answer. 

He sat his bag on his desk and headed over to Burnham. His sarcastic best friend of seven years always made the morning after a murder less dark.

“Hey Emerson,” Burnham sipped through a mug of milk. 

An unusual quirk about him was that Jacob Burnham simply drank plain milk. Never coffee. 

Whole, 2 percent, 1 percent, nonfat, whatever was in the back office fridge was good enough for him. 

Forty or seven-years-old? Nobody knew Burnham’s true age.

“Forensics came in,” he waved a file at Emerson. “No prints or DNA of any kind, same as always. Christ.”

Burnham shook his dirty blonde head and handed the papers over.

“Fuck Em, we are never going to catch this guy unless he leaves us something.”

Emerson flipped through the forensics report. Like Burnham had described there was nothing of significance. 

“He will eventually slip up, they always do,” he said, trying to be the positive one.

“Did the families have anything to offer?” 

His friend shook his head, “Just the usual. Victims never got into any trouble, well behaved, no enemies. Nothing out of the ordinary. Can’t imagine why anyone would want two 15-year-old girls dead.” 

Emerson’s mind flashed to Abigail. He was afraid for her. She was smart, but he was sure Halley Reece and Melanie Myers had been smart too. Hell, they may have even known his niece. Same high school. 

The image of Abigail lying in a ditch somewhere creeped across his mind. He shut his eyes.

The feeling of dread was slowly worming its way back into his stomach. 

He went back to his desk, dropping the very thin report onto it. 

It barely made a sound. 

He pulled his phone out of his bag. It was the first time he was checking it this morning. 

He was bad at that. 

One text from his sister and one message from Gwyn. 

He opened his sister’s first.

Emerson, the girls they found last night went to Abigail’s school….this just became a little too close for comfort. I almost made her stay home today.

He sighed, not knowing what to say to Eve. Obviously she couldn’t lock Abigail up in the house, the girl had to go to school and have a life. 

You can’t stop living just because of horrors, he thought.

He sympathized with his sister though, he was just as worried for his niece as she was. 

He scratched his eyebrow and opened up Gwyn’s message next. 

G: 203-637-1366

Was that her phone number? He scrolled to see if she had said anything either before or after, but she had not. It was just her phone number. Or so he assumed. 

Quite bold, he thought. But he oddly liked the cut to the chase showing.

“Any luck in that department?” 

Burnham was standing over his shoulder looking down at the open Tinder app.

Emerson slipped the phone into his front pocket, “Not really.”

“I told you to go on that date with Kate’s sister. Who knows, you could be getting laid every night.” Burnham shrugged. 

Emerson scoffed, “Your wife’s sister is 59 remember?”

A stupid smile flashed across Burnham’s face, “Hey but she’s single! And how do you know you don’t like older women?” 

Emerson blinked, at a loss for words. 

“All I’m saying is we could be brother in laws. Take one for the team Em!”

Emerson swiveled to his computer screen.

“I see you enough already,” he grumbled.

Burnham slapped him on the back, laughing softly. 

Emerson poured over the photos on his desk. One of a woman with the soles of her feet skinned to the point where you could see the bone, another with such horrendous strangulation marks around the neck the purple coloration was almost black. Both were women who had been killed by the Creekmore Serial Killer. 

He was deep in thought, trying to see some connection between all the victims, something he did routinely with no success for this case. 

It was like looking at a math problem he didn’t have the formula for. 

The pocket of his dark blue wool button-up buzzed. It was a text from Gwyn. 

G: So what are you looking to get out of a dating app?

Emerson paused before answering, trying to find sufficient words to make “looking to date” sound less horrendous. 

E: Looking to date. What about you?

He figured he may as well just tell the truth. 

G: I’m looking to get absolutely wild in the bedroom. Nothing more, nothing less.

Emerson’s eyebrows sprung up. Maybe he had misjudged Gwyn. He wasn’t looking for just sex. 

Burnham always joked that Emerson should be a priest.

He figured he would wait to respond if he responded at all. The excitement about his new match had been all but snuffed out after her proclamation. 

He pushed his glasses up so they rested on the top of his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He felt the pang of loneliness he sometimes felt when thinking about his love life. 

He missed his wife. He missed having someone to come home to, talk to, feel beside him as he slept. He missed how he was before. 

Ever since Lyla had passed he had been different. Not as cheerful, not as funny, he actually used to be somewhat of a practical joker. 

He had thought his old self would return after the grieving process was done, yet here he was years later and no relief. 

Lack of female interaction certainly wasn’t helping either. 

Emerson sighed. Maybe he should try the one-night-stand thing. Though the thought of it had always felt awkward. 

Why have sex with someone you hardly know? 

His phone vibrated, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

G: Did I scare you off? I was joking btw. 

He let out a small sigh of relief. Ashamed that he was so bad at the whole dating thing that this one match seemed to be the end all be all. 

E: Sorry, was working. He fibbed. But I am glad to see you won’t objectify me for my body.

G: Well, that’s only because I haven’t seen your body. 

Emerson chuckled. He liked her witty remarks. 

How soon was too soon to ask someone on a date? Were there Tinder rules? Did he care? 

Not really. 

E: How would you like to see it? Fully clothed of course. 

He felt his heart rate pick up. He hadn’t felt excited like this in a long time. 

Of course, that’s when Burnham decided to interrupt.

“Those photos telling you anything yet?” he asked. 

Emerson shook his head, “No unfortunately.” 

His friend sat on the edge of the desk, “This fucking bastard leaves no trace. No DNA. Nothing.”

With the lack of info they had that was all Burnham really ever said about it.

Hard to do, thought Emerson. 

He saw his phone vibrate on the desk.

Burnham’s eyes followed his friend’s. 

“So…you sure Tinder isn’t working out for you?”

Emerson rolled his eyes, “Oh Christ.”

After enduring more teasing from Burnham than he would’ve liked, his fellow detective finally left to go bother someone else. 

Despite the torture that had felt like he was being waterboarded, Emerson had not let anything slip about his potential date. 

Not all things were meant to be shared among friends, not yet anyway. Besides, he had only started talking to her last night. Everyone needed to relax, him included. 

He opened her message. 

G: I would love to. Name a time and place and I’m there.

Chapter 3. 

Coffee. That wasn’t too casual and not too formal right? Or so Emerson hoped. 

So here he sat at some local place downtown. Waiting and a bit nervous. 

He heard the door open and he saw her. His eyes followed hers as she looked around for her date. 

He lifted his finger slightly. 

“Well isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” she said as she sat down across from him. 

Emerson tilted his head in confusion, “What do you mean?” 

She smirked, “That you look exactly like your photos.” 

“Oh,” he chuckled. “Have you been on many dates where that wasn’t the case?” 

She ran a hand through her long hickory colored hair, “More than I’d like.” 

Gwyn looked exactly as she had in her photos too. Emerson hadn’t even considered the possibility that she wouldn’t. 

Which he probably should have considering he met her online. 

He studied her. She was staring at him, looking him up and down. He smiled, amused. 

“Would you like a drink?” he asked. 

“I would,” she said. 

Emerson waited for her to say what she wanted. A few seconds went by. 

This is awkward, he thought as his eyes darted from side to side. 

He cleared his throat. 

“What would you like?...” he asked.

Gwyn smiled mischievously, “You're a detective. Read me. What do you think my order is?”

Interesting, he thought. 

He tilted his head slightly, finally drinking in everything about the woman who was across from him. 

She was wearing a tight black turtleneck, dark blue jeans, and a silver chain-linked bracelet. 

Her makeup was simple, she didn’t need much of it. She was naturally beautiful. Her hair had a shine to it and it curled into a slight wave. 

She had with her a plain black satchel. Big enough to fit only a wallet and a phone and possibly a few other womanly essentials. 

She was simple. But, sophisticated. At least that is what her appearance told him. 

Emerson remembered that her bio had said she was an artist. Which must mean she was somewhat serious about coffee. Not the frappuccino type. 

But, there was a softness to her. She didn’t appear to take herself too seriously, judging from her text messages. 

So probably not black coffee. 

Gwyn waited patiently for him to finish his assessment. A hint of a smile on her lips. 

“I think I got it,” Emerson said as he turned to walk towards the counter. 

“Hi, can I get one iced hazelnut latte and one hot Americano with cream please,” he told the barista. 

Emerson turned to look back at Gwyn. She was far enough away so she wouldn't have heard the order. 

He wanted to see her shock when she found out he was right. He was certain he was. 

He smiled to himself. 

He walked back to their table with the drinks. Gwyn was sitting looking bemused. Her legs crossed, her eyes following his every move.

“So, what did you decide for me?” she asked. 

Her voice was soft. He liked it. It reminded him of the way a stream sounds in a quiet forest.

Emerson said nothing. Just simply handed her the drink. 

Her eyes sparkled as she took it from his hand. Her gaze holding his. 

For a moment, he thought he might have gotten her wrong. 

Gwyn took a sip of the Americano and raised her eyebrows. 

He could tell she was trying to hide her amazement. She didn’t want to give him complete satisfaction and he liked that. She was fun.  

“Well Detective Woods, I suppose you are very good at your job then,” she smiled. 

Emerson beamed.

“Only a little,” he said as he took a sip of his latte. 

Gwyn let out a small laugh, shaking her head, “Is it too soon to say I already want to see you again and this date has been what, 10 minutes?” 

He looked at her over his straw. He felt the same. 

He felt something. For the first time since his wife.

“Now let me do you,” she said. 

Emerson paused, “What…”

“Let me read you,” said Gwyn, sipping her coffee. 

He sat back, trying to hide a smile, “Alright.”

Gwyn rubbed the bottom of her chin with her thumb as she studied the man across from her. 

He was handsome, that much was obvious. Rugged around the edges but not sharp, which was good. It made him look kind. 

He was wearing a grey quarter-zip pullover sweater, the beginnings of a burgundy collared shirt peeking out. His tortoise shell glasses made him look like he could be walking the halls of Oxford and be at home. 

Faded dark green pants with...were those cowboy boots? Interesting. 

So he wasn’t from Connecticut. 

The eyes behind the glasses were dark yet welcoming. A few days old stubble coated his face. 

His hair, thank god he had a full head of it, was dark. Perfectly styled in the ever popular comb over. 

It was too long for him to be ex-military but short enough that she could tell he liked things neat. Gwyn couldn’t quite tell if it was black or just a very dark shade of brown. 

Luckily they were seated by a window and he moved ever so slightly so that a ray of sunshine hit him. 

Midnight brown, was that a color? It was now. Silver bits were beginning to show their glint throughout Emerson’s hair.

If she was being honest he didn’t look like a police detective. They usually were only this good looking in movies. He could have been a writer or a professor that female students day dreamed about. 

The cowboy boots were throwing her off. 

Was he Texan? 

She didn’t remember hearing an accent, but then again they had only said a few sentences to each other. 

And yet, she knew she wanted a second date. She needed to impress him. She didn’t know she already had.

“Judging from your boots you aren’t from here, I’ll be generic and guess Texas?”

He nodded, waiting for Gwyn to continue. 

“You’re smart, otherwise you wouldn’t be a detective and you most certainly would not have gotten my order right. You're patient, you would have to be to be willing to sit here right now and listen to me.” 

Emerson chuckled, taking another sip of his latte. 

Gwyn continued, “Your eyes are hard but your face is gentle. You have seen and been through monstrous things but you don’t let it affect your character. You’re quiet, which leads me to believe you’re polite. Which is good because I can’t stand loud boisterous men.” 

Emerson leaned forward. He hadn’t expected her to be this good. 

“Between the way you look and my expectation that you are a good man, you must be single for a reason. So, I am guessing your ex either was unfaithful or died.” 

Gwyn was blunt. Emerson didn’t know how he felt about that. 

He scratched his cheek, “She passed away.”

Gwyn looked down at the table, confidence leaving her for only a moment. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. 

Emerson shrugged, “But you were right.” 

Gwyn smiled softly. 

He could tell she enjoyed being right. Though not with a haughty arrogance. He respected that. 

“And how did you learn to read people so well? Are you an ex detective?” he asked, amused. 

Gwyn twirled a strand of hair in her fingers, “It’s not hard to see what people project.” 

Emerson smirked, nodding. 

Oh she’s very smart, he thought. 

They talked for hours after conducting their own way of breaking the ice. Gwyn could now hear the hint of an accent. 

They discussed movies, music, food, books, especially books. 

She liked nonfiction. He preferred fiction. 

Emerson was entranced with the way Gwyn spoke. Her words were light but intelligent. And she held eye contact. 

She had already assessed why he was single. So why was she?

He continued to study her. 

Her posture was welcoming, her sentences were flirtatious, but her expressions were guarded. 

Guarded meant she had been hurt before. Most likely multiple times. 

Though with an open posture, not physically. 

He couldn’t detect anything to signify she was nervous. She hadn’t been the entire date. She was confident. She could have anyone she wanted. 

So why didn’t she? 

“Figured me out yet?” she asked, pulling Emerson out of his thoughts. 

He looked down, embarrassed. 

“Not quite,” he smiled.

“Good. I need you at least intrigued enough for a second date,” she said. 

“Possibly more,” said Emerson, playfully reaching.

“Possibly,” Gywn responded, her eyes dancing.

She leaned forward on the small circular table. 

“Emerson Woods you are something.”

He winked. It made her laugh. 

“As much as I would love to talk with you all day, I should be going,” she said. 

Emerson nodded. He probably should too. They had spent nearly three hours in this coffee shop. 

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said, wanting every second he could with her. 

She turned to him, placing her hand lightly on his shoulder. 

“Oh there is no need. I took an Uber, car’s in the shop after a very nasty old woman felt the need to rear end me.” 

Emerson laughed. He could offer her a ride. Should he?

“Would you like me to track her down for you? I could probably find something to pin on her,” he said, glancing down at where her hand had just been. 

She giggled, rolling her eyes, “Could you please? She’s costing me 400 dollars.”

They walked outside. It was overcast and there was a slight breeze. Emerson watched her hair lift in the wind. 

Before she could take out her phone to call an Uber, Emerson walked over to the passenger side of his car that was parked along the curb. He opened it. 

“I promise you’ll have a more enjoyable experience with me rather than someone you don’t know. If you’ll allow me.”

Gwyn bit her bottom lip, raising her eyebrows, “But I don’t know you. Not really.” 

Emerson paused. She was right. Three hours of conversation didn’t exactly mean they knew each other. And with the Creekmore Serial Killer making headlines for months, she was probably wise to refuse him. 

“I suppose that’s true,” he said. “Though I am a policeman,” he kept his hand on the door handle. 

She bopped her head from side to side, feigning weighing her options. 

“Can I rate you if you're a bad driver?” she joked, stepping over to the car.

Emerson chuckled, “I promise to be extra careful with you.”

[popatochisssp]

Obviously no pressure, but if you wanted to share your ideas on house pets, there would be great interest from at least one person. But headcanons are closed and I totally respect that (this very ask aside sorry). No pressure to do anything!!! just wanted to let you know that it seems like fun info.

Sans (Undertale): Strongly inspired by a fantastic fanfiction I can’t recommend enough, he has a cat affectionately named Catsup (Norwegian Forest Cat). Of course he does. Pretty typical story here, he more or less went to a shelter, locked onto the biggest, fattest cat there, and filled out the paperwork to damn her to a life of having a pun for a name. He...may have only gone to the shelter because he was hardcore struggling with depression and his brother read somewhere that pets can help a little, but that's...that’s neither here nor there. Catsup turned out to be a perfect fit for Sans in spite of his initial attitude of, 'I'm only doing this to make Papyrus happy'-- she's probably just about as chill and lazy as the skeleton himself, content to flop over just about anywhere, anytime and hang out. Her laidback nature was a blessing for Sans, a first-time cat-owner who didn't really know what he was doing or what she needed right away. A more high-maintenance cat probably wouldn't have been as forgiving and there'd have been a lot more stress on everybody before he got it figured out. Now, he considers Catsup his best little pal and doesn't even need to be reminded to change out her bowls and her litter. He's surprisingly responsible, when he actually really cares about something.

Catsup’s Quirks: Likes it when you gently slap her belly, always gravitates towards the room with the most people in it, often appears in unusual places that it seems like she shouldn't have been able to get to

Papyrus (Undertale): He...begrudgingly missed working with the Canine Unit once the Royal Guard was officially disbanded... It took him awhile to be able to openly admit he was interested in getting a dog, and when he did, he had standards-- it had to be a smart dog, one that could learn tricks and follow rules, unlike a certain annoying creature that’s plagued his life and home and special attacks in the past!!! So he did a lot of breed research, found a local, ethical breeder for the kind he was looking for, and went to pick out a pup. Spike (Border Collie), so named for his incredible coolness, is a perfect fit for his energetic skeleton friend and loves to run, exercise, and learn new tricks all the time!

Spike’s Quirks: Learned to wipe his feet before coming inside just by watching Papyrus do it, hams up his tricks and sometimes does them without prompting, never leaves the park without an impractically large stick to bring home

Sky (Underswap Sans): You will literally never get him to admit the real reason he got a dog companion because he knows in his heart of hearts that it’s such a silly reason... He saw a video online of a dog delicately eating a watermelon and while most people would’ve had a kneejerk reaction of, “I NEED TEN,” but not gotten any, he had the same reaction and just...talked himself down to one. And so came Poff (Samoyed), a big ol’ floofer who’s a lot like her master when it comes to levels of energy and affection. She’s happy to follow him around on patrols, training sessions, and even through obstacle course...so of course, she tends to get very dirty very quickly. Luckily, Sky’s diligence in grooming her keeps her coat as white and fluffy as her namesake!

Poff’s Quirks:  Loves baths, tap dances at the mention of treats, doesn't chew her toys and just hoards them instead

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): He wasn’t really in the market for a dog, himself. He was just along for the ride when his bro was picking up Poff, when he happened to hear the most hilarious sing-screaming sound he’d ever heard in his life. He followed it all the way to the little fellow who would soon be known as Smoochie (French Bulldog), and he sure seemed upset about...something? He never really figured out why, he was laughing too hard from hearing a sound like that come out of something so small and weird-looking. He didn't try to adopt Smoochie that day, much as he loved his sound, but he found himself going back to the shelter a couple times just to check on and play with him. After two or three months with no one else adopting the little prima-donna, he figured he might as well commit and take him home. He's a fun little dude and Paps hasn't regretted it for a second, but he's forever in denial about just how much of a Dog Dad he's become since. It's totally normal to carry your dog around in the hood of your sweatshirt, isn't it???

Smoochie’s Quirks: Screams a lot, will eat food out of peoples’ hands if they’re not paying attention, jumps higher than it seems like he should be able to

Jasper (Underfell Sans): Like most things in his life, he didn’t put a whole lot of planning or forethought into getting a dog. He was out one night, decently drunk, and a friend of a friend of a friend of a coworker was talking about this dumb dog he had that was supposed to be a guard dog but couldn't do it worth a damn because he was too friendly. The guy was yammering about how to get rid of it and something about that struck a chord with Jasper. It was pretty soon after monsters surfaced and maybe that's why it felt...important to him? He was probably just drunk and emotional and soft that he even stepped in or said anything, but it is what it is. He’s a skilled enough conman that it didn't take him long to talk the guy around in circles until he was willing to pay Jasper for the privilege of taking this animal off his hands and in short order, he was almost bowled over by the big dog that planted its paws on his shoulders at their first meeting. Jasper immediately renamed him from something cliché and 'intimidating' to Tubbs (Rottweiler) for how heavy the goofy bastard was and then brought him right home. His brother wasn't particularly pleased and swore he would not be caring for this beast, but he never had to; Jasper kinda missed having something trusting and affectionate to take care of, and Tubbs has been daddy's little fatty ever since.

Tubbs’ Quirks: Shreds even the heaviest duty toys, lays on people as if he were a lap dog, drools rivers if somebody's eating food around him

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): Who am I to defy literal years of fanon...? His first meeting with Doomfanger (Persian) was about as clichéd as it gets-- a scrawny, dingy, scraggly and matted cat scurrying out of an alley in the rain. She went right up to him and, well... it was love at first mew. He scooped her right up, bestowed a fittingly intimidating name upon her, and took her home with him, in spite of the fact that she looked more like a mutant rat than a cat at the time. After shaving the mats off, bathing the dirt away, and getting her some regular food, though, Doomy actually ends up being an exceedingly beautiful feline! He credits his attentive care and grooming for her pristine, silvery fluff and will brag about it at a moment's notice, but he's just ever so slightly in denial about her sweet and gentle nature. Doomfanger is a vicious killing machine, a true apex predator that nothing stands a chance against! That's...that’s obviously why he carries her around so much... And why he plucks her away from any other animal that comes near her like some sort of mother hen-- he's minimizing the bloodshed! If he let her loose, there would be no survivors!

Doomfanger’s Quirks: Meows in peeps, avid shadow-chaser, extremely receptive to handling

Mal (Swapfell Sans): Hey, anyone remember FGTC? This one cameo’d in that fic, she may seem familiar~ So...he wanted a pet. At first, he thought a cat would be good, fierce independent hunters that they’re reputed to be...but after spending time with a lot of cats and not really clicking with any, he was forced to concede that he was just more of a dog person. In hindsight, of course that’s what he was looking for: a loyal companion to (literally, ha!) dog his steps and follow his orders. Before he can actually, intentionally start looking for one, though, the universe works its magic and he finds one digging around in the garbage out behind the house. The emergency vet he brings the scarred and skeletal stray to tells him that, judging by her injuries, she was probably bait in some dog-fighting ring somewhere and got thrown away when she wasn’t useful anymore. Well. Fuck that, Princess (Pitbull) deserves better than that, and she’ll have it! He takes on the duty of nursing her back to health and earning her trust and it isn’t long before she shows her true colors as the loviest sweetheart of a dog that ever was. She’s utterly useless as an attack/guard dog, but her barks are loud and intimidating, and she obeys commands at the drop of a hat, so Mal doesn’t hold that against her. She goes with him just about anywhere she’s allowed and he shows her off with the same enthusiasm you’d expect for a pedigreed Best in Show dog.

Princess’ Quirks: Wags with her entire butt, will kiss the moment someone’s face is in range, barks at doorbells both real and on TV

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): He didn’t mean to get a cat, not really... He was just following along with his brother when Mal was kicking around the idea of getting one, and Mal may not have clicked with anybody there, but he sure did. Actually... Kitkat (Manx) may have picked him and he’s just along for the ride. Kitkat was kinda young at the time, a little smaller than all the rest and also...no tail??? But what a personality, loud and playful and super sweet and...when it was time to leave the shelter, he just...he couldn’t bring himself to do it without her, he was in love! It’s mutual, at least-- she latched right onto him pretty much instantly and is pretty much never not with him whenever he’s at home, following him around from room-to-room.

Kitkat’s Quirks: Bone-rattlingly loud purrs, loves to play fetch, prone to 3AM zest for life and zooming all around the house accordingly

Slate (Horrortale Sans): I actually wrote about this one! But the gist of it is...he likes cats. Eventually got confident enough to go get one and zeroed right in on the weirdest-looking, least adoptable cat in the shelter he volunteers at. Slinky (Cornish Rex) was deaf, kinda ugly, and a whole lotta weird, but hell, she’ll fit right in at home, yeah? And so she does! She wrecks a lotta shit and is loud as hell, but stuff is only stuff and Slate’s never had an issue with noise. Actually...she really helps him out with his sleep and focus issues, it’s hard to drop off or dissociate when you have a cat in your lap, yelling at you at batting your face because it’s Play Time or Dinner Time, wake the fuck up!!! She’s a bastardous gremlin, but he loves her to bits.

Slinky’s Quirks: Clumsy and bad at judging distances, loves ankle-looping, insists on sniffing all people-food but never actually tries to eat it

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): Following the trauma of the underground and the ensuing massive outpouring of empathy from humanity at large, monsters were made aware of many therapeutic resources that they could take advantage of, one of which was therapy animals. Papy naturally thought this was a wonderful idea...for other monsters, who were of course far more psychologically-damaged and not quite so good at enduring as himself. But...his brother does volunteer at an animal shelter, and he goes to visit him on occasion so he's made friends with a lot of animal people. This is how he hears about a therapy dog in need of a new forever-home due to complicated circumstances with her former owner, and well... it would be rude not to offer the Lady (Borzoi) a place to stay! He’s surprised by her appearance at first, having expected something more like a golden retriever or some kind of shepherd??? But he's very quickly charmed by her and actually feels more than a little bit of kinship with her no stranger to being long and oddly proportioned, himself-- and they're both doing their best to make it look graceful instead of weird. Since Lady proves to be a sweet and gentle-mannered dog, Papy just sort of...never bothers trying to find other accommodations for her. She’s welcomed wholeheartedly into their home, which she repays with plenty of unconditional love and effortless emotional support!

Lady’s Quirks: Spins in circles when excited, very polite when begging for table scraps, never barks but howls often

[amphtaminedreams]

A/W 2020 Fashion Month: Before Vogue Went Blank (Part 2)

Hi to anyone reading,

I was going to start this post by jumping straight into Dion Lee and part 2 in general but there's been a lot going on the past couple of days-although this blog is primarily fashion, it wouldn’t feel right to start talking about designers without acknowledging all the shit that’s been going down.

^Photo Credit to @spiltcoco on Twitter

Yesterday, police footage came out of US police murdering yet another black man in broad daylight-George Floyd. He joins Sandra Bland, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, Freddie Gray, and Alton Sterling, plus hundreds more named and god knows how many more unnamed African American citizens in the ever-growing list of victims of police brutality.

The majority of these are just people going about their daily lives, a majority of them doing absolutely nothing wrong; even those we know to have committed crimes have been unarmed and non-violent offenders. That being said, their offences are beside the point when we’ve seen the white perpetrators of mass shootings be calmly cuffed and escorted into the backs of police cars as if they were the ones selling cigarettes without permits. American police, given the amount of them that are armed, regularly become judge, jury and executioner trained for 8 weeks by an institution that originated from slave patrols. I cannot imagine how terrifying it is just to walk around as a PoC in America. I cannot imagine the collective trauma that has been suffered because of recent events on top of the intergenerational trauma that most likely exists because of centuries of oppression. I cannot imagine what it’s like to live in a country that was built to suppress you and was by law allowed to do so until very recently, those original structures still in place. I cannot imagine what it’s like to be made to feel like this is your fault. I mean, Boris Johnson is a useless, cold-hearted twat and I won’t defend him or this country for a minute (we have much blood on our own hands, and racial profiling is just as much a thing here as it is in America-I read earlier that you’re 28 times more likely to be stopped and searched in London as a non-white person compared to a white person), but I still can’t imagine him publicly advocating for the mass murder of groups he knows to be primarily made up of black people via Twitter. This whole situation is so unimaginably fucked up; anyone who still sees America as one of the world’s most developed nations needs to take a long, hard look at what is going on and reconsider that opinion.

Whilst we can’t fix everything, we can all speak up and make our voices heard, and it is our duty to do so. It’s not good enough to just “not be racist”, you have to be ANTI-racism, even if that means constantly reflecting on your own privilege and challenging your assumptions. Neutrality is complicity. Signing a petition isn’t going to change the world, but it’s a start:

https://www.change.org/p/mayor-jacob-frey-justice-for-george-floyd?recruiter=false&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=twitter&utm_campaign=psf_combo_share_initial&utm_term=psf_combo_share_abi&recruited_by_id=7ba70000-a127-11ea-87fb-d1ff0bf6ea96

As I publish this, there’s less than 50,000 signatures needed to hit the target of 6,000,000 so if you happen to see it, get signing! There are lots of other petitions online but Change.org seems to be the only major one you can sign in the UK as the other are US based and require a zip code. I never thought I’d close a paragraph by quoting Macklemore but the line “no freedom 'til we're equal, damn right I support it” is at the forefront of my mind right now. Again, neutrality is complicity. We’re never going to achieve a fair society by sitting on our asses and hoping things will improve. Let’s all do the best we can.

Sorry if that intro wasn’t what you came here for, but I just think it’s so important to talk about. I know I’ve said in the past that fashion is supposed to be an escape from everyday life but there are some times when real life needs our attention and this is one of them. Feel free to unfollow if you disagree.

Anyway, onto the fashion. If this is the first post you’re reading, welcome! There’s a part 1! But I don’t wanna be pushy so start here if you wish!

If you read part 1, welcome back! 

I ended that post by practically falling at the feet of Dilara Findikoglu, and I so wanted to start this post by regaining a sense of dignity and go straight into what-the-fuck-ing at Dior, but I know breaking chronological order would really piss off those “OmG I’m SoOo OCD, tHis BuzZfeEd aRtiCle WiTh DiFfereNt SiZed TiLes ToLd Me!” which is basically me minus claiming liking things to be organised means I have OCD-no, just dermatillomania and the denial that a compulsive skin picking disorder has anything to do with OCD because the neuroses club that is my brain doesn’t have any space left. SO, I have to continue where I left off and star the post with Dion Lee, whose collections I am a big fan of.

I could ramble a bit more but I did enough of that at the beginning of part 1 and am sure I’ll do more than enough in this post anyway, so here it is, Dion Lee:

Considering we ended with the maximalism of Dilara Findikoglu, sliding back over towards the other far end of the scale with a designer that tends to pitch their tent on the borders of the minimalism camp feels correct. Dion Lee, fortunately, seems the perfect collection to open with. There aren’t many other brands who do edge in such an understated and masterful way. If you want to be ready for combat and look like you’d fit right in at Vogue at the same time, look no further. This season’s collection is full of perfectly placed cut outs and immaculate tailoring and subtle street fighter-esque details as ever, and that’s why it pains me to say it:

Not that this is enough in the way of critique to restore my dignity by any means, it’s not a patch on last season.

I don’t think there was a single bad look in that show, and at times it felt like I was weeding through them here. When the looks were good, they were GOOD but a lot I found to be disappointing. Plus I have no idea why you’d put tie-dye in an A/W collection. I appreciate that it’s an Australian brand and that our winter is their summer, but they’re presenting to the rest of the world at fashion week and anyone in Paris, Milan, London and New York is going to be freezing their tits off and looking like a twat in an orange tie-dye sundress. There wasn’t much of a dip in quality for the menswear compared to last season, but honestly womenswear left a lot to be desired. That’s what happens when your expectations are high.

I used to think that if you assume the worst, it’s impossible to feel let down. And then I saw Dior’s A/W 2020 collection. Did a full 180 on that statement.

I suppose it’s a step up from haute couture, but then at least the styling in that was simple, and it just didn’t look like anybody had tried at all; here it’s clear Maria Grazia chucked everything she could at this collection, every headscarf, every gingham print, every shallow feminist undertone, and it was still a fucking mess. At first you think some of the individual pieces are cute but have just been ruined by the styling, and then you begin to look, and realise that even those individual pieces could’ve easily been bought in a New Look Boxing Day sale.

THIS IS CHRISTIAN DIOR, SUPPOSEDLY ONE OF THE MOST LUXURIOUS BRANDS OUT THERE. WHAT IS GOING ON!? 

I don’t know, I included as many looks that I didn't mind as I could, but it’s like there always has to be a crappy, unnecessary detail in there. Everything is so literal. Of course the collection based around the divine feminine has the models dressed like basic ass Greek goddesses, so of course the collection based around the modern woman and equality has women walking the runway in ties and ill-fitting shoes too. Maria Grazia, here is a box:

Think outside of it. 

Next is, thankfully, Elie Saab:

No, not exactly a trailblazer of a collection, but executed with poise and elegance as always. I mean, the styling is spot on. It looks like each part of the outfit was made for another, to contribute to a whole clearly envisioned look, similar to what we saw in the Alberta Ferretti show. Elie Saab is known for its haute couture shows where all the tiny details, the sequins and the silk and the embroidery come together to make something beautiful, and this is just that on a larger scale, with less “wow”s and more quiet admiration, more wishing you were the one wearing that outfit. If you’re gonna play safe, do it this well. The night dresses are stunning of course, but not even my favourite bit of the show. It’s the casual looks, the pussy bows and the ruffles and the neck scarfs and the private girls school monochrome colour palette with the occasional pop of red or purple, a toned down version of what we saw at haute couture, any of which deserve to be worn whilst eating macarons in front of the Eiffel Tower before trip to Musee D’Orsay. It’s Poppy Moore’s school uniform grown up and made fit for a fashion magazine editor:

Somehow managing to cram an Emma Roberts early 2010s fashion moment into every post is my talent, who knew. Wild Child was really a gem.

Erdem was a mixed bag:

With a lot of the outfits, I can’t tell if I actually like the garments that much or if I just like the look as a whole. I mean, without sounding too gluten-free Callie from the Valley, I like the VIBE, but there was a lot of outfits I almost included before I had to ask myself “LAUREN, do you ACTUALLY like this or do you just like the walking-into-your-sugar-daddy’s-will-reading-to-claim-his-fortune DRAMA of it all!?” 

It happened a couple of times, where once I took off my black and white, theatrical violin accompanied entrance filtered sunglasses, I realised that the actual print was ugly. A collection so cohesively ornamental and kitschy is going to lean too far into that at times, and they were a few overly-fussy moments where it seemed less nudge nudge wink wink and more like Erdem Moralıoğlu fell into his grandma’s wardrobe, stole some fabric, and called it a day. I don’t want to sound like I’m not a fan of the collection because overall it’s gorgeous, I just thought it was a bit much at times.

Continuing with the theme of clever seasonal continuity that weaved its way throughout this year’s A/W offerings, Ermanno Scervino kept the core of his summer collection and made it just that little bit darker, added some weight to everything, and this is one of the rare occasions where I like the winter incarnation a lot more. I’m not huge about either but there’s a lot of things I’d love to wear here, the coats especially.

Up next is a reliable favourite of mine: 

Etro.

Was it REALLY necessary for you to include ALL those coats I hear you ask?

Alaska Thunderfuck as Gia Gunn voice: Absolutelyyyy.

When it comes to bohemian fashion, Etro is unbeaten. Everything is always exquisitely coordinated and styled. Like I usually fucking hate aztec print but I love the way it’s done here. I’ve never known a brand to make belts seem like such an integral, tasteful part of the outfit in a field where they so often seem like a last minute addition for the sake of accessorising; it pains me to say it, but Elie Saab, I’m looking at you. It’s your only fault. 

Yes for bringing back embroidered jeans! Yes for all those high necks! Yes for the tapestry print! Yes for the Afghan waistcoats! Etro will keep fedoras cool forever and I love them for that; I don’t know if she ever actually wore any of their stuff but I just know Stevie Nicks was in her prime would’ve ate this shit UP and she is my style icon for the ages. Plus, I might be way off base here but a lot of the collection seems to be inspired by traditional Romani style and it’s a beautiful direction to take things, a treasure trove of layers upon layers and rich textures and opulent prints.

I can’t wait til the phase of my phase of my life where I can swan around in maxi dresses and ponchos. I just hope those maxi dresses and ponchos are Etro.

Onto another brand which hasn’t had a bad show since I started my reviews: Fendi. This season, they took their late 60s/early 70s wild child aesthetic and gave a millionaire’s high maintenance wife spin on it, and what’s not to like about that? 

I mean, Fendi is a brand which is always going to excel in its F/W presentations-the rich, bohemian prints (pro-tip: if you can’t already tell, me mentioning the word bohemian in a review pretty much guarantees I like the collection), the furs, and the warm colour palette all perfectly translate into clothes suited for walks through a city going through a post-summer burnout, where it rains red and orange leaves. You can tell Silvia Fendi is in her element when she’s got texture to play with, something that comes across in the gorgeous coats Fendi consistently puts out, and this season continues that trend. Plus, there’s a lot of adorable details here-shoes that show off the decorative socks underneath, the cube shaped bags and those furry ear muffs which I hope bring about a high street muff renaissance because they’re the equivalent of slipper socks for my ears and THEY’RE ACTUALLY REALLY PRACTICAL. The only thing I’m not in love with is the mirrored glasses, and I can’t help but think how replacing them with a pair of grandad style aviators would be the icing on the cake for the collection. Maybe I just need to see Miss Robyn Rihanna Fenty wearing them and then I’ll get on board. Usually works.

Ah, GCDS. I got so excited for it after last season but this time round, it was a bit of a disappointment. There were a few outfits that semi-matched up to how cutting-edge I saw their last collection, however a lot of the pieces looked pretty low quality. I get that streetwear is in the name, but it’s supposed to be a high fashion take on that, and a lot of the looks were quite pedestrian. Stand outs are the top 2 rows and the leather motocross style jumpsuit on the far right, third row down, but the quality of these pieces wasn’t consistent across the board and I feel like I ended up having to convince myself I liked some of the others just so I had enough photos to justify including the brand. It really sucks when I look back on how ahead of the game last season’s collection was-we’re talking outfits that wouldn’t be out of place on Instagram’s Tokyofashion page and as far as I’m concerned that’s the fashion holy grail. Some of these looks, especially the menswear, could be from a Boohoo TV ad and that makes me sad.

Meanwhile, Giambattista Valli put out a collection that looked like a virtual postcard of Parisian fashion; if a St-Germain-des-Prés streetwear themed Instagram doesn’t exist already, someone should capitalise on that, stat, because if my typical vision of French feminine fashion is correct it would be full of outfits like this. I feel like this is what a fashion novice EXPECTS Chanel to look like. Trust me-these days the reality is much more disappointing.

There’s many things I'm happy to see here besides the tulle and florals and prettiness I expect of the brand. Obviously the berets and the bows and the elbow length gloves are the kind of off-duty ballerina style touches I’ve become accustomed to but there are also some nice surprises here: the military style white jacket, the unexpected snake motif on clothing that’s otherwise overly delicate, and to my delight the return of the boater hat. IDGAF, this is the summer where I’m buying myself one off Ebay and making this happen for me whether they become a “thing” or not. I shouldn’t squander having this little of a double chin; the opportunity may never present itself again. 

I haven’t watched Killing Eve in a longggg time since there’s only so much of two women attempting to kill each other and then miraculously avoiding death you can watch but I’d love to see Vilanelle prancing round a city in this kinda shit slitting some necks again. I hope that doesn’t make me sound like too much of a sadist; only in a purely fictional world is this something I want to see, I assure you.

Givenchy was really, really great this season too, imo. Definitely a step up from the last RTW anyway. Aside from the drama of the exaggerated floppy brim hats and the quirky tassle detail dresses a la Schiaparelli, a lot of these outfits kinda remind me of something a Miranda Priestly/Cruella De Vil type would wear, and you know me; I’m all for that kind of intimidating, about-to-either-slap-you-or-fire-your-ass bad bitch energy. The gathered leather gloves with the androgynous subtly checkered power suits feels CORRECT and if Giambattista Valli is the bottom in this relationship, Givenchy is the top. Am I allowed to reinforce sapphic relationship stereotypes as a bi girl? Probably not. I’m sorry. Won’t do it again. Just this once. And you know I’m right really xoxo

And OMFG Gucci. Another impeccable collection for me, honestly. Once again, it’s probably my favourite of the season. How it is that Alessandro Michelle gets it SO right for me despite his vision being so bold and different every time? He has this specific brand of strange, conceptual beauty which blends past and present trends in a way so supreme it should be considered art. It’s not a term to throw around loosely but the man is a genius, and tbh I’m still not over the human head props from the 2018 F/W winter show.

In my Haute Couture week review, I talked about the Viktor and Rolf collection (which I loved, don’t get me wrong!) and said that pretty meets grunge is my fave thing ever-this is that, but much even more substantial and intelligent. The Wes Anderson-esque pieces or that late 60s/early 70s hipster aesthetic that I loved in last season’s show hasn’t been done away with either-be it the level of detail or the colour scheme, it all somehow fits together. Never did I think I’d see dresses fit for porcelain dolls through the lens of Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen seamlessly slotted in between outfits that could’ve been put together from the clothing rack of Dazed and Confused’s costume department. I want it all-opulent fur-trimmed coats, crucifix jewellery and pilgrim hats I’m sure both Edgar Allan Poe and modern goths would approve of, and the tiered skirts that wouldn’t be out of place in a Westworld saloon. The models were delightfully sad and almost creepy looking and I wouldn’t change that for the world. To say 10/10 doesn’t do it justice, so I’m gonna have to open a reviewer’s can of worms and say 100/100.

Gucci is a tough act to follow, and I’m sorry it has to fall onto the shoulders of Halpern. In the nicest possible way (as if there is any nice way of saying it), I don’t think I any expected anything but a downgrade, so if anything, my standards will be lower so...Michael Halpern, you can thank me I guess? 

That was really mean, I’m sorry. It’s not a bad collection, and I definitely like it more than last season’s. It’s a slightly garish colour palette at times but an exciting one in spite of that, which when paired with the animal print dotted throughout makes this collection the perfect fit for a tropical beach party or at the very least, a semi-decent night at the Caribbean themed bar in your local town centre. The sequins and silk, a Halpern trademark, are as tastefully done as ever, and seeing them on the models, I can’t deny these are some power fits-the kind of clothes you are bound to look and feel confident in; if you wanted to play queen of the urban jungle for a night, this is what you need to be wearing.

Ah, Hermes.

Generally not one to stoke a fire inside me. In all fairness, the tailoring here is really, really nice and French biker chic, and the pieces are perfectly crafted-it’s not that I don’t like the outfits because I think that if I saw one of them individually in a natural, messier setting I’d probably be impressed. These are classy, elegant winter looks and what more could you want when you’re looking for outfit inspiration for this season? It’s just that it’s always a little too neat and uniform for me, and on the runway I like my fashion to be risky. This could almost be the sophisticated mother to a Tommy Hilfiger collection and whilst that’s something I would probably wear if I wanted to look put together, it’s not what you get excited to see at fashion week. Primary colours all together aren’t where it’s at for me either, the infamous colour scheme of the cheap plastic playhouses you’d find in the garden of every working/middle class British household back in the day. Yes, I had one. So did the after school club I was forced to attend whilst my mum was at work. Apparently the negative connotations are still too much for me (a boy I went to the after school club with did once fall off the back of one and crack his head open so maybe it’s justified).

Isabel Marant was pretty much exactly what you’d expect from Isabel Marant; if the Etro bohemian woman is one who rolls out of bed and chucks on the first thing she sees, the Isabel Marant bohemian woman is the one who claims she’s done the same thing but who actually planned it all out the night before. She designs for the gluten-free, bikram yoga Kourtney Kardashian style “hippy” who claims to be a free-spirit but would definitely not do acid with you. I was gonna say it was a collection for the Gwyneth Paltrows of the world but then I remembered Gwyneth proudly released a candle she claimed smelled like her vagina and changed my mind-she’d definitely do acid with you. 

It’s definitely a cohesive transition from the summer collection; both have that seemingly laid-back, clean-cut vibe, and cater to the rich, impeccably groomed scented candle loving woman everywhere. Obviously the pieces are a tad more suited to an alpine lodge in Switzerland than a beach in Malibu this time round, but that same mild colour palette, pretty, naturalistic patterns, and generally relaxed fit persists. It’s cute enough.

J.W Anderson is a bit of an enigma.

Despite the experimental silhouettes and the kooky details that you think would very “look at me!”, the collections still seem to have a chilled, easy-going feel to them. They toy about with the strange but remain entirely sophisticated whilst doing so-I think it’s because aside from the little quirks that make the garments J.W Anderson, they’re otherwise fairly reserved and simple; even the quirks themselves mostly tend to be exaggerated, more conceptual takes on more typical stylistic motifs anyway. Anderson has a knack for producing statement pieces that don’t look like they’re trying too hard to be statement pieces, a talent he expertly deploys at Loewe as well. Whilst Maison Margiela collections are like the fashion equivalent of that Jughead “I’m weird, I’m a weirdo” speech, J.W Anderson’s refusal to conform is quiet and modest. I like it. It’s not generally my personal style but I can admire the thought behind the work, and there are still some things I’d love to try. I have a few standouts-the shoes with the hoop detailing dancing from the ankle straps, the dress on the bottom right with what appears to be art nouveau typography on, the trench coat with the cape detailing and the gossamer dress to its right are all stunning, especially that dress. If I ever want to dress as the bubble Glinda the Good Witch descends in when she meets Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, I know where to go, though I don’t suppose there’s going to be an occasion that calls for that any time soon. Can I just have the dress anyway?

Kim Shui is another new designer I found through blessed Twitter screencaps-thanks guys for doing my research for me. Much appreciated.

But anyways! Like Charlotte Knowles, it’s clear she’s still establishing her aesthetic as a designer, and thus far I love it. The whimsical, throwback prints on urban silhouettes that range from the androgynous suits of city dwelling cool girls to the amped-up sex appeal of nightclub dresses is gorgeous, especially twinned with dainty headscarfs and opera gloves-all in all I think this a very cool and wearable collection and I’m looking forward to the next collection she puts out.

Next up is Lacoste, and IDK why I always include their collections to be honest, considering they’re not really known for “high fashion”. I guess it’s because my dad has collected Lacoste shirts since I was little so I kinda have a soft spot for it and feel obligated to include it every time presentation season comes around. Yes, the outfits are unbearably preppy and the colours are garish but I feel like that’s kind of the appeal? So what if some of the tracksuits look like they could’ve been pulled out of a bad mafia movie? I see the argyle jumpers, with a bit of wear and tear, as a charity shop gem my sister would come across (she has the #Y2K Depop girl knack for finding old designer pieces in the shittiest charity shops without the audacity to try and sell them at a 70% markup) that I would then steal from her wardrobe to wear myself, contrasted with a ripped mini skirt, chains and and docs. I see the POTENTIAL of a look that is very fuck you to the rich middle age tory styling we see here. It’s punk, okay?

Lanvin was STUNNING this time around. Maybe it’s because I’ve been watching Mad Men recently and it reminds me of the fashion on that-which I hope somebody won an award for at the time BTW, it is SO fucking good-but I just adore every look here. I can’t even remember if I reviewed Lanvin’s SS20 show, and so clearly if I did it wasn’t that memorable (no shade intended), however this collection is a different story. Every single one of these outfits is iconic movie moment worthy, a 60s Cher Horowitz plaid two piece equivalent that would get screencapped and replicated ad-nauseam, all the best looks of Betty Draper and Peggy Olsen and Joan Holloway and Megan Calvet brought together and refined for the modern day woman. I might even consider sacrificing my anti-royalist principles if it meant I could transport myself back in time and switch bodies with Grace Kelly so I could make this collection my princess-off-duty wardrobe and drive around Monaco in that Bella Hadid look, roof down, all the drama of the fur trim and the gloves and hair whipping about in the wind (but in this unrealistic vision I can actually see what I’m doing and I’m not choking on random strands and swearing at Mother Nature as if she is a real entity with a personal vendetta against me).

Loewe! More J.W Anderson! I’m gonna try not to repeat myself by arsekissing too much all over again and get the good points out of the way quickly! So rapid fire: elegant! Delicious colour palette! Interesting shapes! I think I’m seeing a Victorian/Edwardian influence there! Correct me if I’m wrong! I like it! The coats are strong! Remind me of the suffragettes! But lets pretend in this case these Loewe style coat wearing suffragettes are not raging classists!

AH. Apart from that, it was a bit too austere for me. I definitely preferred Anderson’s eponymous collection; there were a fair few recurring details in this show that I couldn’t get behind that I didn’t include, in particular this bib-like black panel that just kept popping up on everything. Sorry J.W Anderson. But a 50% success rate is still good! And at the end of the day, having 2 collections on Vogue Runway at once is more prestigious than the accumulative total of every accomplishment I’ll probably ever have achieved in my life by the time I’m on my deathbed so what do I know anyway? Sigh:( At least I’ll always have the honour of having the largest head by circumference of my class in year 4, right *sweats nervously*!?!?! 

Louis Vuitton was definitely a downgrade on last season for me. There were for sure elements I liked-the Vera Wang-esuqe mixing of the tulle bustle skirts with the rougher, more masculine biker inspired vests and jackets was a cool choice, reminiscent of Gucci’s mixing of the lace dresses with harnesses. I enjoyed the baroque jackets and subtle nods to steampunk style too. Though we’ve already seen it a lot this season, the wet look coat with fur trim I can’t help falling in love with, and I’m immune to the potential ugliness of the muted blue monotone look purely on the basis I can picture Ripley from Alien in it. So like I said-it’s not as if I hated it. I guess when it comes down to it, the collection wasn’t bad so much as I just had higher hopes. I will say though, the staging was INCREDIBLE. As a history nerd, I never thought I’d see the day when a Henry the 8th lookalike actor was part of the backdrop of a Paris fashion week show-and I always thought there was no interesting career path for me in the subject!

And another big name I don’t tend to be so partial to, Maison Margiela. IDK, I did like last season but I wasn’t a fan of haute couture and it took me a while to warm to this. Call it deconstructed, experimental, whatever, but you know when you can’t decide what to wear and you’re in a rush so you kinda just throw all the shit you decided against into a pile? Well, my initial thought was that this season Margiela is kinda that, on the runway.

I will say, once I let go of my need to see a clear shape, a lot of the individual pieces were stunning (NOT the puffed up tabis though, I still can’t even get behind the regular ones). I guess I just wish they’d go for less is more with the styling because as it currently stands, it makes it hard to actually take the clothes in. 

Ultimately, one thing you can always say about Margiela, like their clothes or not, is that it has a monopoly on being effortlessly bold.

Marc Jacobs I really liked again, though I will say it doesn’t stand out quite like the S/S collection did. That was absolutely STUNNING-I can’t remember specifically where I ranked it in my top ten but I know it was at least in the top 5. This, on the other hand, is...pretty. It’s very pretty, and very put together, so I’m not saying at all that I don’t rate it. I suppose it’s just a lot simpler than I expected it to be-I don’t have a problem with simplicity, at all, especially if it’s what a brand is known for but I feel like part of the appeal with Marc Jacobs is that it’s pretty kooky. I mean, not Thom Browne or Margiela kooky, but commercial kooky at least. I feel like the kookiness is lacking here? And that’s where this feeling is coming from? And also, the fact that Lanvin tackled the same era and did it a lot better? So there’s that, too. Plus, I adore Miley Cyrus but...why? Random celebrities waking the runway just doesn’t do it for me-it always comes across as a publicity grab, as if the designer isn’t confident enough in their collection’s ability to get people talking on its own, and I suppose in this case that says it all really.

Margaret Howell was...well, Margaret Howell. She’s known for her basics, and they’re always pretty non-offensive “regulation hottie” in the words of the icon that is Damian from Mean Girls. It’s been, what, four years? More? Since I last watched that film but I’m pretty sure watching it about twenty times between the ages of 9 and 15 tattooed it on my brain. I include her because even though they don’t get my pulse racing, I like these pieces; considering the fact that expecting straight white men to ever have style on the level of barbiedrugz (his instagram is my favourite thing ever) or Rickey Thompson is ludicrous, Margaret Howell’s menswear looks are probably are the best, realistic goal for any future partner. Because I like my men dressed like Paddington bear/a depressed Brown University English lit lecturer, okay? Or in other words, Will Graham from Hannibal.

Marine Serre had a few good moments-the looks that I liked were the ones that stayed within her lane of blending the weird with the visually appealing. There were a lot of cool things going on, and I like the utility vibe (the boot with the pouch detailing and the mask are perfect examples of this done well), but outside the fits I picked out a lot of it went over my head tbh.

Marques Almeida is a show I was looking forward to-it has such a youthful, experimental quality to its collections (it’s no surprise the designers said they were influenced by the HBO show Euphoria this year!), similar to Central Saint Martins, and you can tell the designers (Marta Marques and Paulo Almeida) are based in London too; we are talking about the birthplace of the punk fashion movement, and as a designer it’s probably almost a rite of passage that you incorporate elements of that into your work. Marques Almeida does that with a flair and consistency you can count on. Their clothes don’t have the wildest silhouettes or anything like that but the fun they have playing around with print and colour and the ease and confidence with which they settle on those combinations always comes through-the black and white coat with the yellow furs trim is one of my favourite pieces from the entirety of this season’s offerings.

I wasn’t so fond of Max Mara’s SS20 collection and I'm not gonna lie, this isn’t THAT much of a step up for me personally. It’s just one of those brands I feel obligated to include because it’s talked about quite a bit but I’m not totally sure if it’s for me. Too monotone, but I’ll give it another season! And I mean, there is a slight improvement here-this collection is a lot more laid back than the stiff, austere feel of the last, and there are some very well fitted and structured pieces. A lot of the looks kinda remind me of a 2020, fashion take on The Breakfast Club’s “Basket Case”, which is kinda cool, and just from looking at the clothes, the high price tag is palpable. Also, scruffy hair club unite! Though obviously it’s intentional here! That’ll be my excuse for the next time I turn up at work looking like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards-Max Mara made me do it.

Ending on those words of wisdom, I’m gonna bring this post to a close, because I can’t fit any more photos in! I’m desperately hoping that I can fit this all into 3 parts like I did with my last RTW review but even if I do have to make 4 posts, I still include my top 10 shows as I did before. I hope to get that post up within the next couple of weeks! After that, I’ve shot a Lana Del Rey inspired by each of her different albums and “era”s though given last week’s events I’m on the fence about whether to post it or not, especially given her silence over the last couple of days. I’m really proud of what I’ve put together and I’ll always love her art and music (I have 2 bloody tattoos, for fuck’s sake!), so I’m trying to think how I can reconcile that with those awfully worded posts and just the general lack of awareness of bigger issues that she’s displayed the last week. JFC, being a Lana stan has always been so chilled up until now. All the very valid and important takes aside, that “Lana pls delete that post and apologise, we can’t fight the barbz all your stans are depressed” tweet is the only good thing to come out of this shitshow. He got a point. Breathing feels like effort lately:( IDK, if you’re also a Lana stan and you have any opinions on the matter, feel free to DM me, because I’m feeling pretty conflicted rn.

Most importantly though, are the issues I opened this post by talking about, and I thought I’d finish by including the thread of petitions I saw on Twitter. Like I said, a lot of them aren’t available to sign in the UK but to anyone who read up until this point (thank you!) idk where you’re reading from so maybe some of them will apply to you:

https://twitter.com/yericvIt/status/1265801832930045953

Also, while we’re at it, because every tory voting twat seems to treat our country as if it’s some beacon of hope where racism is non-existent and love to tell PoC to stop moaning about their experiences, here’s a thread of black British men and women who have lost their lives to police violence:

https://twitter.com/illh0eminati/status/1266441604170223617

Thank you for reading until the end. I hope that you enjoyed the fashion part of the post but also that if you did read this far, you read the other bits too if you didn’t know what was going on already. It seems like everyone does but you forget that Twitter’s a bit of an echo chamber and that outside of it, there’s a lot of ignorance, whether intentional or not. I know Tumblr has a similar audience to Twitter so I imagine there’s loads on here about everything going on too, but ya know. I wanted to talk about it just incase. 

Stay safe, keep fighting the good fight, and again, thank you for reading!<3

Lauren x