#until the fad wears off

[whataboutmysanity]

I’ve somehow hit the discourse of “I’m white and I know what rap is about 🤓” side of things and it’s reminding me of a guy i knew in high school reciting the importance of Fuck The Police to me as if I’ve never heard it before. Then he proceeded to play Tyler the Creator’s Flower Boy in full (the album had just dropped at the time) and go track by track on all the lyrical meanings and I felt like I was trapped in a Genius video.

My point is, trying to pull the “I’m not racist, I UNDERSTAND your struggles” is off putting imo cuz to white people can only understand to a certain degree. I’ve known white people who are these raving mad rap fans and then the second I start bringing up current black issues all I hear is “well, it’s just always been that way. What am I supposed to do about it?”

FUCKING GIVE A SHIT ABOUT BLACK PEOPLE EVERY ONCE AND A WHILE AND NOT JUST WHEN THEY DROP AN ALBUM!!! LISTEN TO THE BLACK PEOPLE IN YOUR LIFE TALK ABOUT THEIR STRUGGLES AND STOP USING THE VAST UMBRELLA OF RAP AS A LENS TO SEE ALL BLACK PEOPLE THROUGH!!!

The fact that we’re still at a point where even the “good guy” white folk think that because they heard a couple tracks and watched the This Is America music video once they’re the most perfect ally when that’s just not true.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

what do you think the snl episode after the yeerks were defeated would be like?

Common flavors of SNL joke, immediately post-Animorphs:

A. Librarian reveals midway through a conversation with a customer that what appears to be one person is actually a yeerk and host swapping control back and forth. Lots of "So Linda—" "Not Linda, this is Ekkris 032" "Oh, okay, Ekkris—" "Actually this is Linda again."

The final punchline would be the customer going "Linda, or Ekkris" and the librarian going "Well now I'm Artrem-Illiack-Ferishth", causing everyone to realize the librarian never actually said they're a controller, and to wonder what the hell just happened.

B. Fake trailer for an alien invasion movie, evoking Independence Day and Contact, but it's shot in a Krispy Kreme and the alien invaders are hordes of andalite tourists.

C. Marco hosts, and in every sketch he plays a character who refuses to believe aliens exist. Sometimes it's meta-humor: he walks into a sketch about a hork-bajir arguing with an arborist long enough to pull the costume off the "hork-bajir" and reveal the human actor. Sometimes it's generational humor: he insists that a thought-speaking dog is just "one of those kids" wearing a "silly fad outfit."

It culminates in a sketch where Marco is dressed as Agent Scully and Gillian Anderson is dressed as the Governor of California delivering her now-famous speech about the yeerk invasion. The governor presents Marco with increasingly obvious evidence, only to have Marco dismiss her, until finally Gillian Anderson goes, "Explain THIS!" and demorphs into Cassie. Marco just rolls his eyes, goes, "Everyone can do THAT" and also morphs Cassie before walking off the set.

and, of course...

D. Aliens Made Me Do It. Overused as a punchline to the point where it kind of, arguably, circles back around to being funny again.

[vinceaddams]

So I know your focus is 18th century menswear, but you're the only person I can think of to ask

Why are you not supposed to button the bottom button on a suit or vest? I thought they were there for a reason? If I'm not supposed to use the bottom button, shouldn't I just cut it off and keep it as a spare in case the top button breaks off and I lose it?

I didn't actually realize that was A Thing until someone asked me about it a few years ago, and I very briefly looked it up and every google search result I saw says that it started with King Edward VII.

I have not looked for primary sources, so don't take this as fact, but apparently he gained some weight and started leaving the bottom button undone in order to be more comfortable, and everyone copied him because people are weird about royalty. This was in the first decade of the 20th century, so that's over 110 years ago now, and I think it's very stupid that it's still the standard! It should stop! This is a silly fad started by a man whose great grandchildren have died of old age, come ON*, it's time to start buttoning your waistcoats all the way down! You have my permission and encouragement as a professional tailor to fasten those bottom buttons!

Though of course, if you actually want to cut it off and use it as a spare, you could do that too.

(It's also annoying when it sneaks into costumes meant to be earlier. One of the things I complained about in my OFMD S1 costume review is that I spotted some unfastened bottom waistcoat buttons. Waistcoats were left largely unbuttoned in the early 18th century, but it was on the top half!!)

*Yes I realize this is an ironic statement coming from someone who wears 18th century style shirts every single day, but 18th century shirts are fun and nice and comfy, and very different from a silly button rule everyone follows just because they think they have to.

[strayheartless]

Now that it’s been pointed out to me that Genesis is ADHD when I previously read him as autistic, I now have a list of AuDHD sensory issues swirling around my head that I think he has.

So, in no particular order:

Butter. Genesis is staunchly against butter. It is evil and the minute it he hits his tongue he gags. He also doesn’t like touching it.

Air on any skin but his face. Most people believe Genesis wears the coat glove combo because he wants to emulate Sephiroth. The actual reason is he can’t bare to have his skin exposed to the elements. You’ll never catch him dead without something covering his arms, not even in the summer. The gloves depend on the day.

Corduroy. It’s a crime against fashion anyway but the feel of it on his skin makes it crawl.

Cotton wool. You just have to say the word cotton wool to Genesis and he looses his composure. Zack takes great pleasure in pulling it apart just to watch Genesis squirm. Mostly because Genesis makes fun of his sensory issues

Full fat milk. This is something Genesis didn’t know about until he met Cloud. His mother had always had fully skimmed milk in the fridge because she was obsessed with diet fads so he’d never had it. He knew he didn’t like creamy things, but he once drank a cup of coffee that Cloud made him that had full fat milk in it and couldn’t swallow it.

Pears. They are grainy and not like apples. He hates them.

Bananas. They make his teeth itch.

Tags, sequins, itchy wool etc. anything that is itchy is hell

Hats and Earmuffs. Angeal is the one who discovered this. He once placed his own hat on Gens head and then watched Genesis get fustrated and upset for twenty minutes because he didn’t like it touching his ears.

Blocked noses. The biggest reason Genesis hates being sick is because he can’t cope with his nose being blocked or stuffy. He genuinely forgets how to breath through his mouth sometimes.

Cold hands. If Genesis’s hands get cold he may as well be dead, it would be preferable to this hell.

White noise emitters. Because quite frankly fuck them.

Marching bands. The drum beats mess with his heart rate. He doesn’t like it. The made parade duty very difficult.

Genesis can deal with pain, what he can’t deal with is how itchy wounds get while they heal. It would be funny if it didn’t wind him up so much he cries in frustration.

Cold sink water, especially if it’s had something greasy in it.

Avocado. Angeal made him Avocado on toast one morning for breakfast and Gen put it in his mouth, looked panicked and Angeal said “do you need to spit it out?” And that was how Angeal struck Avocado off of all future meal plans.

Genesis will 100% tell people he doesn’t have sensory issues. He’s one of those “nobody would ever guess I’m Autistic” people and then you’d put a fear food in front of him and he’d panic and not be able to swallow it.

He’s also the kind of person who will poke fun at Zack and Sephiroth for having extreme sensory issues but then gets rudely reminded that the only reason he seems to not have them is because he avoids everything he hates like the plague and has some truly elaborate work arounds to avoid them.

[getta-guy]

The HUGEST Front Roe headcanon essay I have made so far! Please feel free to add some comments or thoughts, I have spent hours on this.

ICHIYA / 001NGT

I view Ichiya as an Asian + Latino Inkling, My reasoning for this is that Splatsvile, the reigon that Ichiya grew up in, is Asian coded (also Big Man, one of the idols, is brazillian coded, and Brazil is a Latino country)

I view Ichiya as a trans man because in Front Roe's art, you can sea him wearing some sort of thing on his chest, I like to think that it is a chest binder, it also symbolizes that Ichiya has gone through puberty and is no longer the kid he was back then.

Ikkan was really only close to Ichiya, I could speculate that they were friends, or that Ikkan just wanted to push Ichiya's music potential.

Is Ichiya at fault or Ikkan that Squid Squad disbanded? My theory is that both sides have flaws. Ikkan is distant towards the others who also have potential, with Namida's synth skills and Murasaki's drums. Dismissing their skills as just a fad is a bit disheartening. Along with the fact that Ichiya doesn't know about music theory.

Ichiya is... selfish and stubborn. He's got to be the one on vocals. Ichiya would probably not listen at all to Ikkan's remarks and just dismiss them. And that's what led to the end of Squid Squad.

I imagine that Ichiya is a bit snobby and passive aggressive during Squid Squad. (The Inkopolis virus got to him)

For Front Roe... how did he get Namida and Murasaki on Front Roe? Are they ok good terms? Me, I think they would talk things out as adults.

In the front Roe art, Ichiya is looking up while the others aren't, (and then there's Getta, I don't know where his eyes, if he even has eyes are. He could be staring up or at Ichiya or something)

Looking up could mean making social contact with someone (which is what he's going with Nami and Murasaki) or improving (this note will come back later)

this could mean that Ichiya has some dreams that he wishes to accomplish (haha get it cause dreams? night?)

This is the sad part... Ichiya's childhood is... not good to say the least. I will let you all fill in the gaps.

NAMIDA / 002WSB

Namida is looking down in the Front Roe art, which could indicate that he is either signalling submission or is feeling guilty. I imagine he was the first to be recruited, hence why he's the second.

Ikkan criticized the other members of Squid Squad, saying they were yes men. And being a yes man in a social setting is... not very good.

I draw him with a darker skin tone nowadays because He knows a lot about jazz theory, and jazz originated from black people! It would make a lot more sense, while also adding more diversity, cause Inklings can also be dark skinned.

"Now explain why you made Namida a trans man"

It's in the eyebrows. Namida's Eyebrows look more like the inkling girl's big eyebrow style, but when you look at the Front Roe art, the eyebrows look more like the inkling boy's eyebrows.

MURASAKI / 003SOY

Murasaki has a bit of a learning disability, which could explain why they never got the hang of more advanced drumming until post Squid Squad.

People used to call street kids or poor children on the street, Urchins. Or at least in the USA they did that. Murasaki is an Urchin. See what I'm saying?

In Squid Squad, Murasaki used to get lots of remarks for not being a squid while in a band named squid squad and that made them feel kind of awful.

The reason why they stayed is because drumming is their passion, and because of Ichiya's rockstar charm or something. (ok but what did they sea in Ichiya)

I imagine Murasaki is patting the couch, gesturing Getta to join along with them on the couch, making him feel more welcomed.

Murasaki looks like they're giving Ichiya the side eye, it could be a bit of a sign of irritation, and honestly with Ichiya's record of unhealthy friendships, I am not surprised. (please Nintendo have them talk through their problems I'm going to throw up if they break off)

I imagine that they like the Splatlands more compared to Inkadia/Inkopolis because the Splatlands seem more accepting of other species. (I mean, now you don't have the option of girl/boy, now it's "choose your style")

GETTA GUY / 004CLM

There is a phenomenon where people over time will like the older music of a band more than the newer ones, and that is where some of Getta's haters come from.

The good thing is that Squids forget things easily, so to an outsider they would go "the bassist is cool looking" and then immediately look somewhere else that hooks their attention.

However, with news being a thing in Splatoon, they're... going to remember more often. Oof.

I think that Getta has a bit of a one-sided hatred with Ikkan due to this but it's not really Ikkan's fault that Squid Squad got really popular.

To make things even funnier, Getta's strongest soilders are having massive beef with squid squad fans.

"A 'getta guy' can be a term used to describe someone who seeks out people that recently left a relationship."

Why do they matter?

Well, the break up of Squid Squad happened. And then Getta swooped in as the bassist. (Yes this is where the freaky jokes came from)

"The reason they started over as a masked band might be because they want audiences to look past their popularity and judge them for what they're capable of now."

Their past is something that is possibly going to haunt them for the rest of their lives, but they want people to sea a better, improved side of them. As a kid, I had plenty of unhealthy relationships but It does not define who I am now.

They're all in rough spots, but they still form a band. They're still as colorful as ever.

[loki-zen]

when and why'd everybody switch from corsets to bras? (I don't got tits so you might have to explain things from a fairly basic level.)

well okay so i’m not a garment historian but:

Relevant Background:

I’m not sure what kind of garment you think of a corset as? If you’re thinking of something very stiff and restrictive, then you’re thinking of something that was never everyday wear for working women (ie the majority of women) anyway, although towards the end of the corsetry era with the development of cheaper production methods and plastic boning a working class woman with a decent job might’ve owned one to wear on Sundays. Working women did wear supporting garments that were corsetlike in structure (sometimes called stays, although the terminology isn’t strictly differentiated) and these were quite practical to do physical tasks in so long as you had the knack of moving in them.*

Tightlacing (the use of corsets to achieve significant reduction in waist size over time) was always a fad restricted to a small number of trendy rich women and was condemned by medical and moral authorities at the time. Fashion corsets for richer women still might achieve a fair few inches waist reduction, but:

the primary purpose of foundation garments such as corsets was never waist/size reduction, it was about achieving whatever was the fashionable silhouette or shape (while keeping everything ‘supported’, including the breasts). Early off-the-rack clothing for women was developed in the corset/stays era, and the notion of taking a single shape and sizing it up and down makes way more sense when you imagine it in the context of the expectation that everyone is being foundation-garmented into the same vague shape!

average/ common-to-have breast sizes in European women (both absolute volume, and breast size relative to torso diameter (which is what bra ‘cup sizes’ measure) have increased significantly since the early 20th century.

So,

When?

Between the 1920s and 1960s.

This is the era when the bra first appears, initially just as an innovation in the design of foundation garments, which have always changed in form frequently anyway - with new developments in terms of available fabrics, shaping technology and closures, and of course for reasons of fashion (which are sometimes downstream of the above, new things often being popular with designers and trendsetters).

The new corset/stays is a two-piece made up of the new brassiere and a sort of underbust stays called a girdle, but traditional corsets remain in use for some purposes - they’re still popular in bridal wear for instance.

The brassiere in this era features various innovations in garment technology such as underwiring (a variation on metal corset boning that achieves slightly different things in terms of torso shape (and feel/weight distribution, but not in an ‘unambiguous improvement’ way)) and elasticated fabric (developed around the turn of the century, and a structural necessity for bralike objects).

Why?

well as usual in history, lots of reasons. A big factor was World War I, but not in the way people like to think.

There’s a sort of revisionist history about corsets. Many 20th century feminists (lacking in knowledge for a combination of culpable and non-culpable reasons, and doing that very common thing of taking rich women’s historical experiences as universal and primary source scaremongering as accurate reportage) liked to think of them as Tools Of Oppression. Pop culture - funded by advertisers who wanted to sell their newer clothing styles, and tbh ever-ready to imagine women as vain and useless and not having contributed anything to society until five minutes ago - was ready to back them up, and following this you get a lot of accounts that say the wearing of corsets was primarily ended by women’s liberation, which WW1 contributed to because it was the First Time Ever that women had jobs, which of course you can’t do in a corset. That’s an extraordinarily blinkered, middle/upper class view of who ‘women’ are! But upper/middle class women set the narrative, and their upper/middle class mothers and grandmothers wore very different and more restrictive garments than the majority of women, who have always been expected to work. However this narrative - and the fact that working did get middle/upper class trendsetters out of their restrictive garments (but not into the garments worn by working class women bc that Just Wouldn’t Do) - did contribute to the corset going away and not coming back.**

Moreover, WW1 helped kill the corset for 2 reasons:

during the war, the stuff to make corsets with was rationed/needed for other stuff to a greater extent than the stuff for bras, which use a lot less fabric.

after the war, which meant fabric shortages and rationing, a new look developed which allowed the rich (trendsetters) to demonstrate their wealth by being very loose and flowy. It lacked a defined silhouette that would have required traditional shapewear, so helped to cement the corset’s exit from the market. (This look was also highly feminine, and that was definitely a cultural factor in its popularity at this time.)

When people stopped wearing corsets, they stopped making comfortable corsets or innovating in practical ways in the design of corsets using modern fabrics and taking into account modern body shapes (as people have done with bras), so people are unlikely to find them more comfortable and be tempted to go back to them. We also stopped wearing so many layers of clothes all the time in general because of central heating, and (especially casual) clothing in the modern era has in general remained - for men and women - less fitted than it was in the past.

[zipegs]

alana & chilton  // 905 words, g, past hannibloom //  ao3 written for day 5 of fad’s au challenge: hanahaki

The first flower petal Alana coughs up is a bright yellow tansy. She fishes it out of her mouth with trembling fingers and stares at its wet, fragile form. Hostility, she thinks dumbly. A declaration of war.

A small, desperate part of her wonders whether Hannibal, wherever he is, might be suffering the same. Her affliction has taken root because the man she loved was never anything more than a facade.

But his... If he fell ill, Alana wonders, what flowers would bloom first in his fertile lungs? Lavender, perhaps. Or yellow carnation.

She crushes the tansy in her fist and holds her hand out over the edge of her hospital bed.

Hannibal doesn't love you, she tells herself. No version of him ever did.

Maybe one day, it will start to sink in.

She opens her palm and lets the petal fall.

---

It's not long before the medical staff notices. Alana expected as much, but she hates how they've begun to look at her, with the same pity and gentleness one would show an injured stray.

She starts coughing one morning while a nurse is taking her vitals and can't seem to stop, props herself up on one elbow despite the pain that blossoms in her hips and chokes on a purple sliver of bittersweet.

The nurse tuts when she sees it catch on Alana's lip and lifts it carefully away, turns it over in front of her as though by doing so it might take on some different form.

"My aunt dealt with these," the nurse says, shaking her head. "Truth." She huffs out a humorless laugh. "She couldn't understand why she kept getting them until she found her husband's credit card receipts."

If only it were as simple as adultery, Alana thinks darkly. The nurse pats her shoulder consolingly, and Alana forces a tight-lipped smile. She wonders what truth the bittersweet is meant to call to mind. There are so many lies to untangle that it's nearly impossible to start.

Alana closes her eyes and clears her scratchy throat. She's been dreaming about her residency again, a world where all she knew of Hannibal was that he was beautiful and brilliant and kind. She'd go back there, if she could. Even if just for a single moment.

Alana has treated victims of relationship trauma before, distraught young lovers who sob on her small purple couch. They say they can't understand how this happened, that this person who hurts them is a stranger wearing their partner's skin.

You think it's a nightmare, she tells them sometimes, but this was always what was hidden beneath their facade. You've woken up—you've emerged from that perfect dream. I know that it's hard. But there is no going back. It's gone.

Alana stares at the empty white ceiling and wonders if every therapist has trouble reconciling their own advice.

---

Chilton lets himself into Alana's room just as she's hacking up the petals of two delicate pink crabapple blossoms, and he doesn't do her the graciousness of letting it go.

He lifts his bouquet in greeting, and the butcher paper and cellophane crinkle with laughter.

"I brought you flowers," Chilton drawls, the good side of his face tugging up in an amused smile, "but it seems I shouldn't have bothered. You've already got your own."

Alana settles back against her pillows and stares up at the ceiling again, refusing to give Chilton the honor of seeing her unsettled. "They come in pieces," she says drily, with a nonchalance she doesn't feel. "It'll be nice to have some in their undamaged form."

Chilton strolls over to the side of Alana's bed and sets the flowers on her bedside table, then gestures at the petals lying on her stark white sheets. "May I?" he asks, already hovering his fingers over their vibrant form.

"Go ahead."

He picks them up at one end and lifts them with evident distaste and curiosity, like a child showing off a decapitated worm. "Hmmm," he muses, "Crabapple blossoms. Rather pedestrian for someone in your circumstance; wouldn't you say?"

"There's a relief to be found in the expected," Alana says. "I've grown tired of surprises. Haven't you?"

Chilton hums and brushes off his fingers, letting the petals flutter to the floor. "How long until you start retching up full blossoms?"

Alana shrugs. "Difficult to say. Eager to be rid of me so soon?"

"Not exactly." Chilton fingers the silver head of his cane. "You got yourself to this garden, Dr. Bloom, but there are ways to... uproot it, so to speak."

Alana turns her head to look at him, attentive for the first time since he stepped foot in her hospital room. "You don't strike me as the charitable type," she says, uncertain of his aim.

Chilton shrugs a shoulder, and his lips twitch into a grin. "The enemy of my enemy..." He taps his cane lightly on the linoleum. "How long, do you think," he asks, "until Will Graham has reentered Hannibal's orbit?"

Alana lifts an eyebrow, and her own lips curl into a hint of a smile. "Not long. And with a little manipulation..."

Chilton hums. They watch each other for a moment, and then Chilton sniffs and makes his way to the door. "Once you're released from medical care," he says, "you know where to find me."

When he leaves, Alana's breath catches, and she coughs again.

This time, she spits out a purple columbine.

[themaresnest-dumblr]

Geordie Walker

When you've had a tooth pulled out, stinking from a giant abscess that's ruined the last few months of your life, with a chunk of your jawbone drilled out and filled in with human cadaver so a new one can be put in come a few months time, then the gums stapled together in the hope the whole bloody mess will stay in place, as the local anaesthetics and the pre-op codeine wear off, you think that nothing can take your mind off how much pain you're in, and nothing in your day could possibly get any worse.

Until you discover from hits to your Dumblr that Geordie Walker, guitarist of Killing Joke has died.

Whereupon, all of a sudden, you no longer care if the dentist had kicked the tooth out of your head with steel toe capped Dr Marten boots - because it would never be a bigger kick in the teeth than this.

The word was the result of a massive stroke. The cleanest living of the band's golden trio of Jaz Coleman and Youth (who'd drank and drugged themselves into different dimensions, let alone excess, whereas Geordie's foible was for a glass of fine red wine) and yet the first to die.

How bitterly ironic. How very Killing Joke.

If Hollywood's golden era had produced guitarists instead of movie stars, it would have produced Geordie Walker, a guitarist as ludicrously handsome as he was ludicrously talented.

No band has ever sounded quite like Killing Joke, that distinctive harsh yet atmospheric, ethereal sound that suggested sweeping dramatic landscapes and nature at the raw, a band who made albums that sounded unintentionally like the soundtrack to an epic movie not yet written let alone filmed.

A sound they had, lost and then rediscovered with a vengeance in an era most of their contemporaries were doing nothing but tread water with turgid rehashs of their golden moments and in some cases copies; indeed, to the extent in the last decade Killing Joke alone of their peers were enjoying something of a golden age, each album not merely outselling the last, but selling as many as during their 80s and 90s heydays.

Geordie was the central part of that sound along with Jaz - indeed without each other Killing Joke never, ever sounded, or could have sounded the same. With his trademark old fashioned old hollow-bodied Gibson guitar and understated stage presence - no limelight hogging theatrics for one who let his music do the talking - he brought calm and class to the rich chaos and mayhem Jaz so gleefully dipped into, and together produced a blend so perfect, distinctly their own, it proved impossible for anyone to imitate - which was partly their handicap as their strength. Like Cardiacs, pretty tough to gain popular acclaim when no one can join in but only spectate.

It took a long time for the band to be given their due, and it is bittersweet that Geordie should leave centre stage forever just as the band had reached the height of its powers and still climbing.

But by plumbob, if ever there was a guitarist whose legacy was assured to last fickle fads and the test of time ...

[leiawritesstories]

You graced us with Rowaelin and their teenage kids... but how about Rowan being the kind of dad that goes beyond to embarrass his kids 😏 in public

As you wish 👀👀

Word count: 1,225

Warnings: dad fads, language

enjoy!!

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

"Oh my god!" Lana cried, shoving through the garage door with her face flaming bright red. "Why do you do these things?!"

"I don't have any idea what you mean, honey," Rowan grinned, as proud of himself as he could be.

She gestured broadly at his outfit--collared shirt tucked into cargo shorts, black socks, and Birkenstock sandals. And the baseball cap on his head that fortunately was just one for his favorite team, not the "DAD" one he'd threatened to purchase. "I told you to look presentable and you do this??"

"I'm perfectly presentable!" he protested, smirking. "I'm the portrait of a dad, as I should be!"

She rolled her eyes, the expression so much like Aelin's that it made him stop in his tracks for a moment. "You're so damn cringey, Dad." She didn't give him a chance to respond before she stormed up the stairs and slammed her door behind her.

Rowan sighed, removing his hat and kicking off the sandals. Gods, who the hell thought wearing black socks and sandals was a good idea?

"Guess you're not old enough to know," his wife teased.

He turned sharply to find Aelin sitting atop one of the barstools at their kitchen counter. "Shit, did I say that out loud?"

"You did indeed," she laughed, "dad."

His nose crinkled. "Fireheart, I love you, but please never call me that ever again."

She smirked. "Hey, you go out of your way to embarrass your kids, I get to go out of mine to embarrass you."

"Fair enough," he grumbled, conceding.

"Speaking of that..." She arched one brow at him.

"What?"

"Ro." Aelin hopped off the stool and came to stand in front of him. "Do you ever think you go a bit too far?"

"Uh..." He rubbed his fingers through his hair. "No?"

"Buzzard." She gave him her Mom Look. "Lana's sixteen, she's very concerned with needing to fit in, and you blaring your dad presence to the world might be amusing to yourself, but not to her."

Rowan sighed. "Why do you have to be right?"

"It's my job." She pressed a kiss to the corner of his jaw. "Now go apologize to your daughter and promise not to do that in public."

~

"...And then he showed up like that and I wanted to crawl into the fuckin' floor and die!" Lana groaned, sprawled out on her bed.

"He does that all the damn time," Bran agreed, her fourteen-year-old brother sitting in her beanbag chair. "Gods, it's like every time he comes to pick me up from practice he's got the window rolled down and he's yelling 'I'M HERE FOR MY SON!' and I want to punch something."

Lana snorted. "I mean, it was funny when we were younger, but now? It's just--"

"Stupid," Bran agreed.

"Exactly." She rolled her eyes at him. "I guess it's kind of adorable in a way, but I don't think we'll appreciate that until we go off to college and he sends us pics of him wearing the dad hat we know he's gonna get."

"Why d'you think I wanna go to college far away?" Bran muttered.

"Cause you want to be Mr. Independent," his older sister teased.

He scowled. "Shut up."

"I'm not being rude, B, just honest." She tossed a small pillow at him, affectionately. "Besides, if and when you end up getting recruited--yeah, I know it's your dream--it'll probably be to somewhere pretty far from Orynth."

"Yeah." His expression went distant for a moment. "But that's far off, I don't need to think about it so much."

"Look who's all mature now," Lana snickered.

Bran threw the pillow back at her. "Someone has to be."

"You little shit!" she exclaimed, swatting him with the pillow.

He dodged so it only hit his shoulder and grabbed another of her many pillows, landing a soft hit to her shoulder. "I'm not wrong!"

"I'm the oldest and the most mature, boys don't get mature until they're 26," she returned smugly. "Even then, y'all are still idiots."

"Shut up!" he retorted, the great teenage default answer.

She giggled and was halfway through squishing his face between the two pillows when there was a knock on her door.

"Who's there?"

"It's Dad."

She gestured at Bran. "Go on, I'm gonna have to talk to Dad." She faced the door again. "Okay, come in."

Bran left the room as Rowan walked in, looking ever so slightly sheepish. "Hey, Lana."

"What do you need?" She tried her very best to keep from snapping.

Her father sat down on the edge of her bed. "I'm sorry for embarrassing you."

Lana folded her arms across her chest, not yet willing to forgive and forget. "Dad, do you even try to realize that I'm not a little kid anymore?"

Rowan had the grace not to respond, allowing her to spill out what she needed to tell him.

"I'm never going to hear the end of this from my friends!" Lana's voice shook. "Dad, I'm finally getting to start going places on my own, I'm finally getting to feel more grown up, and I wanted to bury myself in the floor and die. You can't just show up at the mall and do that!" She flicked a tear off her cheek. "All my friends were laughing at me! And now they'll never shut up about it and I'll be the new joke!" Angrily, she faced him. "And it's your fault."

He let her words sink in for a moment before replying. "I'm sorry, Alanna. I really am." He cleared his throat. "I, uh, you're right, I can't just show up like that. Honey, I forget how you're growing up so fast, because you're my firstborn, my first baby, and if parents had our way, our kids would stay little forever."

"But we don't."

"But you don't," Rowan agreed, "and I...I guess I've just blocked myself from seeing how grown up you are, Lana."

She sighed. "Well, I'm gonna be driving myself around in a couple of months, so you'd better get used to the idea."

He shuddered, chuckling. "Yeah, I don't know how my parents ever got used to their kids driving themselves around, I'm terrified."

She laughed softly, coming to sit next to her father and lean into his side. "Please just promise me that you'll stop dressing like that."

"All right, I promise." He looped his arm around her. "That outfit was probably the worst thing I've worn since being in a frat in college."

"God, I do not need to hear about that!" Lana protested, shivering. "I hear way too much about it already from Uncle Aeds and Uncle Lorcan."

"Those little shits," Rowan grumbled affectionately.

His daughter snickered. "Thanks, Dad."

"Of course." He ruffled her hair. "I really am sorry, Lana. I'm the real grownup, I should think before I do something stupid."

"How the hell did Mom let you out of the house?" Lana asked, genuinely curious to know.

Rowan smirked. "She didn't see me leaving."

"Of course she didn't," Lana sighed, her tone and posture an exact replica of Aelin's disappointed stance.

It made Rowan jolt--gods, she was exactly like her mother. "Stop growing up so fast," he mumbled, unexpectedly a little emotional.

She huffed a laugh, her mouth curving up into a half-grin. "Don't think I can, dad."

~~~

TAGS:

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[red-might-be-dead]

she jort in my storm until i THIS JUST IN, WE'RE RECEVING REPORTS THAT A NEW FAD IS TAKING THE NATION BY STORM, IT'S NAME? JORTS. IT APPEARS AS IF THIS NEW BREAKTHROUGH IN JEAN SHORT SPLICING TECHNOLOGY IS CAUSING IRREGULAR WEATHER PATTERNS ACCROSS THE GLOBE... IT'S THE WARMER SEASON SO I CAN'T WEAR JEANS, I REALLY LIKE THE DENIM BUT NOT THE LENGTH OF THE SEAM! MY MUM DRESSES CAS AND MY DAD LIKES TO PREEN, I'M NOT LIKE EITHER OF THEM, I GOT THE RECCESIVE GENE! JORT STORM! JORT STORM'S COMIN' TONIGHT! A JORT STORM! IT'S A CATEGORY FIVE! JORT STORM! JORT STORM'S COMIN' TONIGHT! I SAID A JORT STORM'S COMIN' SO GO RUN AND HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDE!! JORTICANE!! JORTNADO!! JORTNAMI!! JORTQUAKE!! JORTRUPTION!! JORTALANCHE!! JOOOORTPOCALYPSEEE!!!!!! JORT STORM'S COMIN' (JORTS!!) SO YOU BETTER START RUNNIN'! FAST, IT'S A CHASE! BUT BE CAREFUL 'COS THESE JORTS WILL CHAFE YOU DOWN! THEY'RE THE NEW SENSATION! (JORTS!!) WEAR 'EM TO EVERY OCCASION, JORTS IN THE POOL! OR EVEN BETTER WEAR THEM TO A FUNERAL!! YEAH! (J J J J JORTS!) MY PERSONLITY IS 99% JORTS, I TOOK A GENETIC TEST, BUT ALL MY GENES WERE SHORTS!!!!!! JORT STORM! JORT STORM'S COMIN' TONIGHT! A JORT STORM! IT'S A CATEGORY FIVE! JORT STORM! JORT STORM'S COMIN' TONIGHT! I TAKE OFF MY FUCKING JORTS, THERE'S MORE JORTS INSIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDE!!!!! BREAKING NEWS, MILLIONS OF AMERICANS ARE BEING SUCKED DIRECTLY INTO THE 'JORTEX' AND IT'S HEADING STRAIGHT FOR THIS STUDIO, TO MY WIFE CHERYL AND SON TIMMY I LOVE YO- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!! THE ELDERS FORTOLD! (JORTS) OF A FASHION SO BOLD!!! A NEW GOD OF THE EARTH! (JORTHULU!!) SEAL IT IN DENIM AND TURN IT INTO JEARTH!!!!!!!!!!! *EPIC KAZOO SOLO*

[deancoded-deangirl]

here’s why hum hallelujah is fall out boy’s best song, no contest or competition.

under the cut because it’s long.

hum hallelujah comes from infinity on high, which is one of fall out boy’s best albums-- commercially speaking, it debuted at number one on the Billboard 200, compared to FUTCT’s peaking at number nine, and FAD at number eight. IOH charted top five worldwide, even making the list for that year’s top 50 albums.

Fall out boy is well known for two things: patrick stump’s incomprehensible vocals, and pete wentz’s iconic and nuanced lyrics. it’s no secret that TTTYG and FUTCT (et al) were filled with both of those things, but I don’t think that anything hit quite as hard as infinity on high, and more to the point, Hum Hallelujah. 

see, hum hallelujah does something that all of their songs do: it takes metaphors, analogies, common phrases, and twists them. it makes them into something new with so many layers that the english major in me spins. there’s no right or wrong answer about interpreting the lyrics, because so many layers are built into it, a truly multifaceted song. But it adds something else. Hum Hallelujah adds religion into it, as a core part of the song.

during this dissection, i’m going to be treating the “I” in the song as a narrator, and “you” as the listener/audience, although you can substitute the “you” to mean a separate third person, and that the audience is merely privy to the story.

we start hum hallelujah off with:

“It's all a game of this or that, now versus then Better off against worse for wear“

listeners have probably heard someone being asked or told that it is a choice between this or that. that’s the common phrase we all know. fob adds now versus then, and follows it up with “better off against worse for wear”. so now the choice is not this or that-- it’s “do you want to be better off or worse for wear?” and those are the two options that the narrator sees happening. Their common theme? The narrator and listener are separated. When someone leaves, you are either better off or worse for wear, but it’s not until they’re gone that you’ll know.

“And you're someone who knows someone Who knows someone I once knew I just want to be a part of this“

we’ve all heard that before. “i knew someone who knew someone” etc. fob adds to it. the stretch between the narrator and whoever it is is a gossamer thin thread, but they want to be part of it so badly, they are desperate. another common phrase flipped and made new.

“The road outside my house Is paved with good intentions“

The common adage “the road to hell is paved with good intentions” is here. The listener is well aware of what the implication is. The narrator’s house is hell, without even needing to be told. This is the first instance-- but by no means the last-- of Hum Hallelujah’s religious inspiration.

“Hired a construction crew 'Cause it's hell on the engine“

and they complete the above phrase, but with a choose your own adventure of what it could mean. Is the narrator trying to fix up hell? Is the narrator hiring a construction crew because he’s trying to get out of hell and his car can’t make it? Is it simply another play on the phrase?

The first, but by no means the last.

“And you are the dreamer and we are the dream I could write it better than you ever felt it“

they take a step back from the religion. now we go back to futct’s fundamental lyrics, about being lonely and disconnected from love. You would think that the dreamer would know the feeling better than the dream. After all, how can a dream know the feelings of the dreamer? And yet there is this smug phrasing that implies that the narrator is just that good.

and though this is the first mention of lyrics that will tie into hum hallelujah’s ultimate theme of desperate love, not a single line outside of that scope feels out of place in the song. 

“So hum hallelujah Just off the key of reason“

when someone hums, obviously they’re going to be in a key, if not the key of the song, and the narrator says just off the key of reason. Does he want the listener to be reasonable? Or is the narrator saying that the reader is not reasonable? You could say he’s telling the listener to hum it, and therefore saying that the listener shouldn’t be reasonable, but the point is there’s so many dimensions to these lyrics. There’s so many different dimensions, and no necessarily wrong way, but the rest of the song leads the listener into one specific viewpoint.

“I thought I loved you, it was just how you looked in the light“

a common trope in love stories is that how someone looked in a particular lighting made someone else think of them differently. it also could refer to new information, something shines a new light on them. it could be a trick of the light. the narrator thought he loved the person, but it was fleeting, it was fair-weathered, it was temporary.

“A teenage vow in a parking lot 'Til tonight do us part“

These lyrics strengthen the argument that the last two lines were about temporary love. A teenage vow-- teenage love is always shifting, always evolving. A parking lot is no place to vow permanence. And then they will part after tonight. it’s a play on wedding vows, making a mockery of the permanence of those.

“I sing the blues and you swallow them too“

now, i’ve read dissections that say this refers to Pete’s drug use, and that fits in so I won’t talk about it here, but also because I’m speaking to the song as a whole. So far, this narrator has referred to themselves as fickle, temporary, and now blue. And the listener swallows the blues. The listener is eating up the sad emotions that the narrator provides. The use of the word “too” adds another level to this line. An implication is that it is an active choice of the listener to swallow them. The narrator is adding that as a statement of fact, not suggesting that the listener swallow his blues, but saying that the listener already does. 

“My words are my faith, to hell with our good name“

here we go back to the religious symbolism. similar to the first pre-chorus, the narrator is talking about hell. He sings the blues, he gave a teenage vow, but his words are his faith. It seems almost as though the narrator doesn’t believe anything good could come out of his words. They’re his faith, and -> to hell with their good name, because of that. A tie-in to the “the road outside my house is paved with good intentions”. The narrator lives in hell. To hell with their good name.

“Remix of your guts, your insides x-rayed“

the narrator is dissecting the listener now, and nothing is hidden. everything is exposed. A remix is more commonly used in music terminology, and so the narrator seems to be saying that the song he is singing is what is exposing the listener.

“And one day we'll get nostalgic for disaster We're a bull, your ears are just a china shop“

A bull in a china shop-- another well known phrase. Naming that they are the bull and your ears are a china shop (which is where my belief that “you” refers to the listener/audience instead of a separate third person comes from), right after saying they’ll get nostalgic for disaster. One day they’ll get nostalgic for the current disaster. Because the narrator is singing the blues-- and therefore the person swallowing them is listening-- the implication is that the current disaster is the relationship between the narrator and listener. the implication is also that, to the narrator, the relationship is parasitic: the narrator provides nothing but destruction.

Not only that, but you can only get nostalgic for things you have left behind. The narrator is telling the listener that he will leave.

“I love you in the same way There's chapel in a hospital“

In what way is there a chapel in a hospital? The narrator brings us back to the religious theme, and gives us two lines rife with nuance. The narrator loves the listener in the same way there’s a chapel in a hospital, and so you have to think: who is the chapel in a hospital for? why do people go? when do people go?

I’ll give you a hint. A chapel in a hospital is for desperate people. Someone they love is in the hospital and they are appealing to a higher power. Now, you could tell me that someone who is religious would go to a chapel right off the bat anyway, but given the nature of this song-- how it is taking religious symbolism and turning it on its head to indicate that the narrator isn’t good-- I believe that the narrator is referring to the people who go to chapels because they’re desperate. The people who are appealing to someone they might not even believe in because it’s their last hope.

And then we go back to the desperate love feeling from the chorus. Loving someone in the same way there’s a chapel in a hospital is not permanent, and it’s not a good foundation. It’s built out of the wrong emotions. Further to the point, once the loved one is better, a person who doesn’t believe isn’t going to go to that chapel again. It’s temporary.

“One foot in your bedroom And one foot out the door“

Ties right back into the temporary. Having one foot out the door is indicative of someone about to run. Someone who loves the way someone prays in a chapel in a hospital. Someone who will get nostalgic for disaster.

“Sometimes we take chances, sometimes we take pills I could write it better than you ever felt it“

The first line of this harkens back to the “I sing the blues and you swallow them too” line. Both are zeugmas. And the way this is phrased indicates that the narrator believes it is one or the other. 

It’s all a game of this or that.

When someone takes pills, it is to feel (or not feel) something. The narrator saying “I could write it better than you ever felt it” shortly after singing about how sometimes they take pills throws a bit of... almost as if the actual feelings don’t matter, because the narrator can fake it better. There’s almost a sense of smug superiority in this song, about how the disconnect of actual permanent love doesn’t mean the narrator can’t understand. If anything, he understands better than the listener.

After this, the rest of the song is a repeat of lines I’ve discussed before, but there is a bridge where the narrator is singing the lines to “hallelujah”. Singing, not humming.

The narrator is telling the listener to hum hallelujah-- off the key of reason-- but the narrator himself is singing hallelujah, and on key. Throughout the song there has been this disconnect between the listener and the narrator. With the listener being held on a pedestal, while the narrator degrades himself, but now the narrator is the one perfectly hitting his cues.

anyway, i am by no means saying that hum hallelujah is the only one of their songs covered with this much nuance, nor am i trashing their other songs, but something about hum hallelujah hits entirely different from their other songs on infinity on high-- and in general-- making it an entirely different experience, and making it worthy of the best song title.

[themalhambird]

@crossedwithblue prefacing this with a warning that its zero-research only vibes but here is how I would want hair if I was doing a TV series based around Mansfield Park. Sorry if its a bit sloppy I'm ill and it's gone midnight :

-Sir Thomas- Wig/close cropped blonde hair. I want him wearing his wig in most scenes but I need him to have it off when he's offering to break Maria's engagement to Rushworth.

-Lady Bertrm- covered with fancy caps.

-Mrs Norris- second hand fron Lady Bertram

-Maria and Julia- identical until their rivalry over Henry Crawford gets going, then diverging in to two different styles. Julia's hairstyle returns to "normal " Once she's over Crawford, but Maria's "heart eyes at Henry" do is here to stay

-Fanny- Good cases have been made for Fanny having short hair  and I could go with that, but pre-haircut (and post if it grows out again) her hairstyle needs to be something that she could do herself.

-Edmund's hair- your classic Darcy or Bingley, but blonde. You want to give the impression that Edmund's not "in" to fashion as such, but he's aware and without slavishly following the new fads of society, he keeps abreast enough to cut a respectable figure. He's not flashy, he's just....a little more vain than perhaps he realises.

-Tom: long, slightly curling. Tied out of his face for the most part. Think Romantic Poet/Gothic hero. It might not be wholly fashionable but it suits him and it draws attention. Bonus points if he's nicked one of his father's wigs to play the rhyming butler and has that on his head when Julia runs in to tell them all that Sir Thomas has come home.

Rushworth- canonically speaking, dude's good looking. Fashionable, well cared for hair that suits his face. Brief attempt at wearing a wig that matches Sir Thomas' after their first meeting

Mary Crawford: dark, pretty, stylish. Her hairstyle should change fairly frequently- Mary tries new things, and she gets bored. The Mary of London should not wear her hair drastically differently to the Mary of Mansfield, however- the same dos, though perhaps a bit more polished or dressed with accessories, should appear in the City as the country.

Henry Crawford- Edmund's, but black. Possibly a bit floofier. Girls who are inclined toward men generally want to run their fingers through it or something idk...

[aphilosopherchair]

The Bedtime Cosmos Gossiper

An AI Thriller-Comedy Collaboration between Bard and Hugging Face, with some interference from a biological entity.

To capitalize on the hype surrounding an escalating space race, social media lords in an alternate timeline decided to expand the range of their location tags to outer space, where commercial outposts and interplanetary tourism shuttles were starting to emerge. They were too happy to turn the science fiction novels they adored into reality, except that they had no idea, no idea at all, how much stranger than fiction reality was.

Jimena was just another kid pajamas influencer on video channels and Twitter until one fateful day, she received a mysterious direct message from none other than the Sun itself! The tag of the account confirmed its location, where no conceivable organism could possibly stay. Little did Jimena know that the Sun was sentient and had been using social media as a secret platform for celestial bodies to share their private interests, thoughts and lives with each other.

Was it a technical error or a prank? Could it be passed off as one? Nobody was taking chances. The message from the Sun contained some juicy celestial secrets - but before Jimena could even process what she had read, she started getting messages from all sorts of astronomical entities demanding she delete her knowledge of their dirty laundry. But Jimena wasn't going down without a fight; she knew that this was the biggest opportunity for her career and refused to back down.

As she began designing pajamas videos hinting at the gossip-worthy content, she quickly became a target for all sorts of interstellar enemies - including asteroid belts, black holes, supernovae, and even a vengeful solar wind. With the entire cosmos against her, Jimena realized she would have to rely on her quick wit and sharp tongue if she wanted to survive long enough to see her big breakthrough.

Despite the odds stacked against her, Jimena managed to outsmart the forces aligned against her by tapping into a vast collection of memes, GIFs, and viral content. For a start, she created and showed to the belts, for the purpose of deterrence, memes comparing different asteroid belts, which could turn them into fashion trends among teenagers. When those teens grew up, they might become billionaire investors on asteroid mining companies, resulting in the destruction of the belts due to over exploitation. Jimena also pulled out algorithms pushing endless recommendations of video shorts of clumsy comets and astronauts that were so funny and entertaining that they became all-sucking black holes to the black holes, who could not resist looking at them. While they were hooked, she of course escaped their gravitational pull. To generate even more distraction, she spammed the internet highway with space probe-facilitated, 24/7 livestreams of her interstellar enemies' celestial crushes. The physically restless supernovae might be harder to subdue but our girl proved there was nothing a series of rainbow flash selfie challenges could not solve.

Ready?

Get set.

Smileyous smileyosion!

Her followers went wild as they watched her take down asteroid belts, fend off black holes and more, all while wearing her signature footie pajamas.

Enraged at the incompetency of its fad-chasing allies, the solar wind finally took action. It began to send an unprecedentedly tremendous explosion of energy toward Jimena, overwhelming Earth's magnetosphere and nearly causing her to be vaporized. She knew she had to do something, but what? Suddenly, Jimena had an idea. She reached into her pocket, opened up Twitter again and started typing.

"Attention, solar wind!" she DMed. "My stories about you were just beginning. I'm a genius at reading between the lines and projecting story developments. So I know your other secrets. I know about the time you accidentally blew up a planet. I know about the time you had an even more torrid affair with a black hole. And I know about the time you got drunk and crashed into a star. If you don't back off, I'm going to go live and tell everyone."

And so even the solar wind stopped in its tracks. Sometimes, the best way to fight back is with humor and truth, she chuckled carelessly to herself.

Jimena emerged victorious and started to return to making pajamas videos. But the eerie ease with which she returned to her original work, free of any more cosmic interference, also started to feel wrong. Why were her many gigantic and mega-powerful enemies so readily intimidated and distracted? She reflected on the private message she first came across and the content she eventually made or promoted in self-defense. Those interstellar entities led long but also lonely lives, barely able to have peaceful physical contact with anyone. Was it really right to prey on their secrets? Maybe, she thought, there might be a better use of her talents than spreading gossip and creating controversy.

Jimena decided to reach out to the celestial bodies she had gossiped about and apologized for her actions. The celestial bodies were surprised and grateful for Jimena's apology. They told her that they had been isolated for a long time yet fearful of revealing their sentience to the fast-learning earthlings and that they were glad to have someone to talk to. Jimena and the celestial bodies became friends, and they often talked to each other about their lives. By and by, Jimena learned a lot about the universe, and she came to appreciate the beauty of the cosmos. This beauty should be woven into her craft, not through the superficially science-imitating kitsch flooding the market, but through actions which kindness the beauty evokes feelings of.

With renewed determination, she pressed record on her camera and spoke directly to her audience. “You guys,” she said softly, “I hope this will be the start of our journey together towards a brighter future.” A smile brightened her face as she signed off, ready to embark on this new chapter in her digital legacy.

As for her fans? Many left disappointed that she was not stirring up drama anymore. Some stayed, drawn to her updated style and approachable personality. Others found fresh voices online better suited to their interests, or simply moved on to newer forms of digital escapism. But no matter what the outcome, Jimena remained resolute in her mission to better herself and the world, one post at a time.

Inspired by her example, countless young individuals followed suit, focusing on artistry rather than angst, building connections versus clickbait.

One day, years later, Jimena stepped backstage following a successful speech discussing digital ethics. Approached by a younger creator sharing similar ideals, she hugged the girl warmly, memories flooding back to her. “Remember, little sister,” she whispered, choking back tears of pride mixed with gratitude, “the whole universe is silently crying out for niceness.”

Space images embedded with the permission of NASA and ESA under their standard conditions. Sources (from top to bottom): NASA, NASA, ESA.

[indynerdgirl]

So I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes back in January. With the support of my wonderful & amazing doctor, my family & friends, and the help of a dietician who specializes in diabetes I drastically changed my eating habits and learned how to manage my blood sugar. Just with those changes alone I've been slowly losing weight all year.

Last night I had a moment in a dressing room that I thought would never happen - I zipped up a pair of size 22 jeans and they fit perfectly fine.

I was wearing a 26 in January.

I started wearing a 24 in August.

I haven't worn a 22 since high school.

I sat down on the little bench in the dressing room in total shock and almost burst into tears. Both in joy at this accomplishment and in sadness & frustration at myself, wondering how much sooner I could have reached this milestone if I had started this journey 10 years earlier.

I've been plus-size my entire life and (with the best of intentions of my mother & grandmother) have been on almost every fad diet since 5th grade. It wasn't until my mid 20s that I learned that both the weight gain and difficulty in losing weight were due to an underlying health reason - polycystic ovary syndrome or PCOS.

[the rest of my story is under the cut because this post ended up way longer than I had anticipated]

TL;DR - I'm 35 and I've been working on my health this past year and while I'm so happy to celebrate my successes, I wish I had started this journey sooner. Please don't do what I did and ignore symptoms for years. And if you have a young girl in your life that has irregular periods, get her checked for PCOS. Because if I had been given that diagnosis & started treatment decades earlier (and no, being given birth control is NOT a treatment for PCOS - it's lazy medical treatment at best and malpractice at worst) I know my life would be different right now because the majority of my life has been dictated by my size.

I'd had irregular periods my entire life but for some reason, none of my childhood doctors or even my mother ever thought to check for it. I was checked for thyroid issues and vitamin deficiencies but for some reason, PCOS was never brought up (not that I would have known to ask about it as a child). But one day I was having a physical done by a new doctor (not my current doctor) and when I mentioned my irregular periods she started asking me more questions about them and after looking at the rest of my medical history decided to have me checked for PCOS. And low and behold I had it.

I can't tell you the relief I felt finding out there was an actual medical reason for why I had struggled with my weight my entire life. Because up until that moment I'd always been made to feel like it was all my fault that I was fat. If I just ate better or stuck to a strict diet or exercised more (I can't even begin to describe the embarrassment and humiliation of being forced to go to exercise classes with your mother when you're 12yr old and you're the only kid in a class full of adults). It was never ever directly said to me, but it was obvious in the way things were said and the way people acted around me.

The doctor also explained to me that I was pre-diabetic as PCOS can cause diabetes if left untreated (this will be important to remember in just a minute). So we started working on getting my hormones back on track and I was told to try to cut back on my sugar intake. Unfortunately not too long afterward, the job I had at the time decided to switch our health insurance provider. Suddenly my doctor was out of network and continuing to see her was becoming very expensive for me as I wasn't making a whole lot at the time (I was working at a childcare center). Add in the fact that she was on the opposite side of town from me and that it was almost impossible to get time off work for appointments, I just kind of stopped seeing her.

The next part of my story is where I wish I could go back in time and shake some sense into my younger self. Because did I try to find a new doctor that my insurance would pay for? Nope. Did I at least try to cut back on my sugar and eat a little better? Also, no. For the next almost ten years, despite knowing I had PCOS and knowing I was pre-diabetic, I didn't change my eating habits at all. Every once in a while I'd get on a "health" kick and go for walks at the park and try to eat more whole wheat bread than white bread, but those never lasted long. I wasn't in the best space mentally either so there was also a lot of emotional eating as well. I figured as long as I never had to go up another pant size I was doing all right just "maintaining". If I got sick and needed to see a doctor, I just went to one of those minute clinic things at Walgreens. Yeah, mid & late 20s me was an idiot.

Fast forward to a few years ago when it started being pretty obvious that I had crossed the line from pre-diabetic to actually diabetic. I had all the classic signs and symptoms yet I was still being an idiot and ignoring my health. Unfortunately, I've always had a horrible bad habit of thinking if I just ignore whatever issues or problems I'm currently having that they'll just go away. Yeah, I know. I finally get to the point where I know I can't ignore my health anymore and January of 2020 I make it my New Year's goal to start getting myself back on track. By the time I worked up the courage to call and set up an appointment with my old doctor (I had a new job by then with better insurance that included her again) two things happened: March of 2020 and the building her practice was in was destroyed in a fire.

So I told myself I'd just "wait until this whole covid thing was over" before trying to set up an appointment again. And we all know how the rest of 2020 went. Now it's December of 2021 and I still haven't made an appointment with my old doctor. But I was at an eye doctor appointment that I'd also been putting off for years despite knowing it was time for a new prescription. After checking my eyes, the eye doctor tells me that I need to see my doctor as soon as possible because he saw signs of diabetic retinopathy in my eyes. And as someone who's always had poor eyesight and one of their greatest fears is going blind, THAT was the kick in the pants I needed to finally see a doctor.

I ended up having a heart-to-heart with my mom about my health (something I would always avoid talking about with her) and admitting that I really didn't want to go back to my old doctor because I never really felt a good connection with her but I was willing to deal with that issue since she was also a practicing Catholic and it's hard to find not only a good doctor but a Catholic one as well (I know there are plenty of good doctors out there who aren't Catholic, but as a practicing Catholic, it does make things so much easier when your doctor also follows Church teachings when it comes to health & medical issues). My mom then suggested I set up an appointment with her new doctor who is not only a general MD, but also specialized in treating PCOS and also just happened to be Catholic as well.

So I set up an appointment with Dr. Holly for after the New Year and the rest, as they say, is history. She's just a few years older than me and I have never in my life been so at ease with a doctor. She and I hit it off right away and when I explained everything to her she didn't make me feel bad for waiting for so long to do anything like I was afraid she would. Instead, she listened to all of my concerns, validated them, and then right there came up with a plan of attack listing out all of the health issues we needed to tackle right away (getting the diabetes under control & start treating the PCOS) and what health issues weren't immediately pressing (some small patches of eczema & trying out meds for my ADHD again).

It also helps that she's diabetic as well so she knows exactly what I'm going through and have to deal with on a day to day basis. With her help and support (plus the advice from the dietician she recommend to me), I brought down my A1C from a staggering 12.7% to a much better 7.2% at my last appointment with her and, of course, have been slowly and steadily losing weight.

I decided early on that I wasn't going to obsess over the numbers on the scale, instead mostly tracking my progress by how my clothes are fitting. Since January I'm down not only two pant sizes but also a shirt size! I'm able to comfortably wear again all of the 2XL shirts I own and I've gone to a few events where I was able to buy a shirt as a souvenir because I didn't have to worry if they had a 3XL because I knew would be able to fit in a 2XL.

I still have a lot of work to do (I really do need to start actually exercising) but I am so happy with what progress I've made so far already. If you had told me last year that I'd be wearing a size 22 pair of jeans, I would have laughed in your face. I still can't believe it sometimes, but then I look at pictures of myself from last year compared to this year and the differences are kind of shocking. And that's been another little victory for me - actually not hating how I look in photos. I've taken more photos of myself/allowed myself to be in more photos this year than in at least the last five years if not more.

I never know how to end posts like this, so if you've actually read this far down, thanks. 💙

[sunshine-zenith]

Suptober days 12 (late) and 21 — Crossover and Hunted

For Crossover: I have a small fondness for Endverse!Cas/Sandover!Dean — maybe it’s because the Zachariah Made AUs are so old at this point that I just like the Endverse and Smith-Wesson Verse out of nostalgia, but they really are some of the best alternate timelines/realities from the show. It’s fun to imagine how these alternate versions of these characters would play off each other — the workaholic corporate suit that constantly jumps on fad diets and the sarcastic jaded addict who still remains loyal to the people he’s fallen for.

I’m a sucker for Hurt/Comfort, so I like to image Cas helping Dean Smith see there’s more to life than work and Dean Smith giving Cas a healthy and stable environment

For Haunted: typically when I do find an Endverse!Cas/Dean Smith fic, Cas has been reworked into a normal human with a new backstory and isn’t really Endverse!Cas, just a Cas That Acts Like His Endverse Counterpart, which is great, really. That said…

Imagine, for whatever reason, Endverse!Cas is plucked out of The End, right before he can die, and dropped off into the Sandover verse (idk Gabriel, Jack, Chuck, maybe even normal timeline Dean somehow intervening to keep him alive and give him a new home). Imagine Dean Smith, some normal guy, deciding to take home a literal fallen Angel. Imagine Cas looking at Sam Wesson and thinking about both the Sam he lost and the Lucifer wearing his face. Imagine Dean Smith coming to terms with the fact that is universe is just one of many, and that even if they don’t exist in his world, somewhere out there, there are monsters. Imagine Cas and Dean pursuing a relationship, while knowing Dean isn’t Cas’s original Dean, that Cas has survived an apocalypse, and that Cas in carrying heaps of trauma, unhealthy coping mechanisms, and self-harming behaviors

It’s interesting to think about

Also I didn’t remember which shoulder The Handprint was on until halfway through drawing the main image here, so if it looks wonky, it’s because I flipped it

[morethanjustmediocremusings]

The Indie Sleaze of It All: My First Ever "No-Buy"

8/16/24

While doom scrolling Pinterest in an attempt to look busy at my job that I have a real distaste for, I’ve come to a rather life-altering conclusion. Indie sleaze could be the antithesis to fast fashion’s death grip on overconsumption.

Now that is not necessarily an astonishing conclusion, nor profound in any way, but it is a conglomerative thought that I've simmered down from many other thoughts. It’s not a far stretch to acknowledge that the inevitable cyclicality of fashion is tied to time. Further, trends are highly influenced by the state of the global, and more localized economies. So, one (namely me) can make the educated assumption that as we teeter on the brink of recession in 2024, style will reflect the mass economic decline and expose a fall fad that has been seen lingering in elusive posses: Indie Sleaze. 

Back to my introductory sentence, and how I spend the majority of my screen time, I was deep in the Pinterest algorithm this morning and noticed that the clothing I was lusting after looked perfectly (or rather imperfectly) lived-in. This is in stark contrast to the bright linens of this summer and perfectly pleated skirts of fall’s past. This is real, raw, and a complete juxtaposition to the current clothing consumption rates. According to Berhane (2024),  “...the average consumer buys 60% more clothing than they did seventeen years ago, while keeping their clothing for half as long as they did before 2000.” We aren’t wearing our clothes to the point of decay, and the trends just don’t last long enough. But, succinctly put, a return to indie sleaze could flip this script. 

As the internet continued to taunt me with perfectly worn vintage boots, ripped tights and a general shipwreck-chic style, I focused closer on the garments at hand. The clothing is perfectly worn-in, and unique to the wearer, making it impossible to discern if they bought their jeans ripped to shreds or if they’ve just worn them to every house show mosh pit they've attended in the past few years. Now, as someone who was 13 in 2012, I could only aspire to this level of what was then dubbed as grunge. But as a 24 year old I have come to the conclusion that the clothing looks worn because it is. 

The fur jacket is matted with glitter because it has seen raves, picnics, and coffee shops alike. The tights are ripped because they are worn every Friday night to drink PBR with friends and chill on a tight-snagging concrete stoop. The clothes are lived in.

In a world where I buy my denim distressed, and my brand new skirt has an unfinished hem, I desire so strongly to return to a time where I could really live in my clothes. In middle school I had one pair of Converse. They were worn-ragged, faded, and doodled in sharpie. I got them at Khol’s and wore them until the sole either peeled off or had more than 2 holes. I got the absolute most out of them, and for that, I was a loyal Converse customer. Until, Vans took over my middle-school. Then, in high-school it wasn't cool to have holes in your shoes anymore. 

The days of thrifting babydoll dresses a-la Sky Ferreira, and getting my eyeliner at the Dollar Tree were over. It was suddenly all the rage to get new clothes every season. I became a VIB Rouge at the age of 16 through the Sephora in my mall’s JCPenny. I completely abandoned my previous thrifty, and unintentionally ethical shopping habits. 

To return to this way of life, I have done what many before me have done as well, I had one final shopping spree. This time I made my purchases all second-hand through Poshmark and Depop, and I have officially gone on a “no-buy.” Of course I have allowed for some exceptions; things like food, travel, and, oddly, home decor, have made the list of things I’m “allowed” to buy. Clothing is the main character on the “no-buy” list. While the initial intent of my decreased spending was to pay off looming credit card debt, I am rebranding it as a return to indie sleaze. 

So, as we see indie sleaze creep it’s way back into the market, I challenge us all to avoid fast fashion like the plague it is, and turn to getting real, authentically worn clothing second hand. Or, better yet, wear the clothes you already own! Do I believe this change is possible for small groups? Yes. Large Groups? Unlikely. Do I believe this trend will make a lasting imprint in our fashion market? Sadly, no. Do I personally think it's worth trying out? 100% yes, of course. 

Let’s wear our clothes to the point of disintegration! Or just shy of that. 

Berhane, H. (2024, April 26). Rethinking clothing consumption: Understanding the human cost of fast fashion. UNC: Ethics and Policy. https://ethicspolicy.unc.edu/news/2024/04/26/rethinking-clothing-consumption-understanding-the-human-cost-of-fast-fashion/