#I did not get my fashion and design certifications to not use it

[glttrvlntn]

I think you’ve caught his eye..

Pose ref.

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Victor’s Sea-circle Event (Chapter 4)

⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for content yet to be released on the global server! ⌚

✧ mum’s smile || little gentleman || art and love || mum’s companionship || endearing thoughts

【Mum’s Companionship】

A journal recording Victor’s growth during the study tour program in France.

What she hid in here is not only memories but also her regrets for not being able to be there to constantly care for him and nag him during the time he was growing up.

[Note: Victor’s mum used to call him “Yan Yan,” which as always, I’ve translated as Vic-Vic~]

—

✧ DATE: 05/21

He safely arrived in France at noon today. Following the teacher’s instructions, I was waiting at the designated meeting point when I saw him getting off the bus with a big bouquet of carnations in his hands. The teacher said that when they were passing by a florist, Vic-Vic requested to stop briefly and wait for him; he then especially picked out those flowers for me. This adorable little gentleman… did he watch some French romantic movies!

—

✧ DATE: 05/21

Vic-Vic’s dad said he packed his luggage all by himself for this trip. And sure enough, Vic-Vic immediately opened his suitcase in the living room after we returned home today. Although this little grown-up didn’t say anything, I knew he was probably trying to attract my attention. So, I thought of teasing him a little and deliberately pretended to not see, going about my business as usual.

But to my surprise, Vic–Vic was extremely patient. He just sat there on the sofa and waited quietly. Before long, I couldn’t resist anymore and succumbed in my heart, promptly making up for it by rewarding him with the recognition he deserved. Vic-Vic took out a certificate from his suitcase and presented it to me, saying that he would bring an even better trophy next time. I knew he was trying to tell me through this gesture that he was studying diligently and growing up well. So I hugged him and told him he was truly amazing. But what I didn’t tell him was– “Actually, you are already outstanding in your mum’s heart, and you don’t need these awards as validation.”

—

✧ DATE: 05/25

We visited a vinyl record store, and I initially thought that at Vic-Vic’s age, he might find this type of music medium too old-fashioned. But he listened attentively to the teacher’s explanations throughout the visit. I asked him if he wanted to buy a vinyl record as a souvenir for himself, and he quickly nodded. Eventually, with the curator’s recommendation, we selected a collection of Miles Davis’ famous tracks.

Sticky Note:

As soon as we got home in the evening, Vic-Vic couldn’t wait to play the vinyl record. I was curious about why he was so interested, and he explained that the unique sound of vinyl records made him feel like he was traveling through time.

—

✧ DATE: 05/31

To my surprise, Vic-Vic helped me secure the tickets to the music concert that I had missed out on earlier through a knowledge quiz.

My son is truly amazing~

—

✧ DATE: 06/05

I still remember the first time I made pudding for Vic-Vic. With a frown on his little face, he peered at the kitchen countertop and asked me in an earnest tone if we needed to hire a professional cleaner to tidy it up? Just the thought of his deadly serious expression makes me somewhat unable to contain my laughter. I wonder if he will ask the same question again when he sees the kitchen in its current state after waking up?

—

✧ DATE: 06/05

…in the blink of an eye, you are already leaving for home today. There are many things Mum doesn’t know how to say to you face-to-face, so I’ll just write them down here silently.

As the person dearest to you, I’m truly sorry that Mum can’t always be by your side and witness you growing up. Seeing how sensible you are, Mum feels gratified, but my heart also aches at the same time. If I had been by your side all the time, perhaps you would have been able to be like the other kids, often acting coquettishly and being stubborn with Mum, wouldn’t you…

Regardless of anything, I hope that one day you will understand that no matter where you are, I will always be blessing you, watching over you, and loving you. And also, remember to smile a lot more. Mum absolutely loves the way that smile lights up your face~

P.S. The teacher said that this record needs to be submitted to the school, but Mum is really unwilling to part with these precious memories and give them to someone else. So I lied to the teacher and told them that I accidentally lost the journal…

After you leave, I’ll secretly hide it away. You can revisit these memories at your own pace when you grow up.

—

✧ next stop: endearing thoughts

—

[mousemannation]

How did you get into fashion and what things do you want to design for like. Your career?

thank u for this question!!! hmm, when i was in primary school i did a little sewing with a friend's mum, and also my mum had to sew my costumes for my dance class end of year concert; so there's been sewing around me my whole life. We had a sewing class in year 7 too where I tie dyed and embroidered a pillow. I didn't take sewing elective though.

I properly started to get into it once I started watching historical sewing youtubers! People like Bernadette Banner, Morgan Donner, Bella Mae etc etc. I just found it so fascinating seeing the whole process of making clothes.

I also really enjoy cosplay and early on in my sewing journey my friend asked to do a Wicked the Musical joint cosplay as Elphaba and Glinda. My Elphaba dress remains my biggest ever sewing project despite technically being my first??? (technically bc I first wore it in 2020 after a year of making it but I've worked on it in the years since).

I'll also say, as someone who's always had issues with body image and gender, being able to make my own clothes massively helped me become more confident.

Gosh I keep having more points ejiejejej the next one is that I'm really invested in environmentalism and the fashion industry is one of the biggest polluters. Between overconsumption, overproduction, unsustainable materials AND massive issues with slavery there is a LOT of change that needs to happen within the industry. Some of that happens with the general public, a lot of it must happen from the inside, and if I can be a part of that I would love it.

On to the second part of ur question (finally) well the real answer is I don't know kwkeksksksk. After I finished my certificate in fashion I had the choice to pursue a diploma in fashion (think commercial production, designing for brands, focus on clothing that gets reproduced and sold in large numbers) or in costume (specifically for live production like TV and film, theatre, ballet, dance). I didn't much enjoy the commercial side of fashion, stuff like sourcing materials in bulk, creating and organising patterns to maximise number of garments made- so I decided I'd prefer to do costume. I find the idea of creating one off garments to represent a character, using fashion to enhance a narrative really really enticing.

Do I really believe I want to pursue costume design as a career? I don't know. That question is a little more difficult for me since my disability has prevented me from getting a job. I don't have any working experience and already my job prospects are on shaky ground. The idea of having people rely on my is scary... but I don't think I'd be totally opposed. I'd probably prefer to work in theatre out of the options. Ballet is far too serious i could not handle the pressure, and I don't really like sewing other styles of dance costumes (like leotards or kind of anything Lycra lol). If I can find a local theatre company that's relatively low-pressure that could be fun.

I do also like the idea of making clothes on a small scale. One offs or small batch that I would sell locally. I enjoy the freedom of just letting myself create without restraints! Starting without an end goal!

I am STILL yapping but my final point is i have so many interests that i don't think I'll ever settle into one career. Even if i did get a job making costumes I'd almost certainly still be pursuing other things at the same time. It's a long term goal of mine to (eventually) go to university and get a degree in pure mathematics!!! I also want to do exchange at some point, find some three month program and go kskskwk. I want to travel, i want to write poems and books and songs, I want to draw more, paint more, learn to sculpt! I have always been a very ambitious person and this is not at all what u asked about so I will leave it here 🙏🙏🙏🙏

[drops-of-moonlights]

But exactly as soon as the winx graduate from Alfea (also Roxy, Dia and Nabu) they get some degree a specialization I don't know I'm curious to see what you designed

I'M GONNA BE REAL I DIDN'T THINK THIS AT ALL LMAO. I got SOMETHING down now, but like. in my mind despite the plan being for the Winx graduating at the end of AUS8 I completely forgot that they WOULD have some sort of the degree. So. I thought of some!

Alfea offers 8 main careers in its curriculum - Herbalist, Oracle, Artificer, Combatant, High Healer, Diplomatic Magic, Magic Crafting and Spellweaver. Herbalist covers anything related to magical flora and its properties. Oracle is divided in 3 branches (Earth Oracle, divination using objects; Sky Oracle, divination using the elements as they exist in nature as well as the sky itself; Horizon Oracle, a mix of both). Artificer is the engineering branch more or less. Combatant is for the fairies that didn't feel like enrolling in RF but DID want to learn to use swords and guns. High Healer is the medicine branch essentially, but also covers veterinary (for Magic Animals). Diplomatic Magic is more or less forced on nobility since it relates to politics and stuff. Magic Crafting is the arts department. Spellweaver is the literature department, designed to preserve and document spells and the like.

AS FOR YOUR ACTUAL QUESTION AND IT'S UNDER A READMORE BECAUSE THIS IS LONG ENOUGH ALREADY:

Bloom - in the first year she's undecided, after S1 she goes for Combatant and Diplomatic Magic (not like she had a choice)

Stella - Horizon Oracle, Magic Crafting (her fashion studies), Diplomatic Magic

Aisha - Artificer (while morphix doesn't exist in the AU she still does something similar with her water powers and DuFour gently nudged her during the first year to pursue it), Diplomatic Magic

Flora - Herbalist (she doesn't really NEED it, but it grants her access to rarer plants), Combatant and High Healer (Potionology is mixing High Healer and Herbalist more or less)

Tecna - Artificer and Magic Crafting

Musa - Magic Crafting, Combatant and Spellweaver

Diaspro - Artificer (her use of magical gems falls under this), Spellweaver, Diplomatic Magic

Roxy - High Healer (animal branch), Combatant, Diplomatic Magic (while her status as former princess means fuckall, she IS the ambassador of Earth in the eyes of the Naerys System so she had no choice)

Nabu - Magic Crafting, Diplomatic Magic (he's still nobility even if his mom disowned him)

BONUS: Daphne graduated with a degree and certificate as a Sky Oracle (which is how she communicated with Bloom via dreams), Diplomatic Magic and Combatant

[dominic-sykes]

What career direction would you like to pursue when you are done with school? How has your program helped you?

I attended Durham College for the last 31/2 years. I am about to complete a program as a Computer Systems Technician. According to the schools’ website this program “is the perfect vehicle to launch a rewarding career in computer assembly, installation, configuration and troubleshooting[1]”. Indeed, the technical quality of the courses was very rigorous and challenging. I see this program as the starting point of my career progression.

I am hopeful that with experience in the workplace I will become exposed to additional areas in the Information technology field that I may wish to pursue in the future. I have a deep love for gaming and who knows, perhaps I may branch out into gaming design and software development. I know for sure that I would like to get the CISCO Certified Network Associate designation in the near future[2]. This professional certification will build my skill and make me more marketable. Also importantly, it is a program of ongoing learning which will allow for my skills to be upgraded over time. For right now, however, my focus will be on getting as much work experience as possible so that I can be exposed to the workplace environment and establishing myself as an IT professional.

          As a student with dyslexia, I had to use every means available to manage my course load whether that meant accessing assistance with SALS, private tutors and attending courses in person even when they were offered online. There is no doubt that courses like Data Communications, Computer Systems Software and Web Development will prepare me for the technical aspect of a job in information technology.

Probably more importantly, pursuing college courses with my disability has taught me persistence, value of hard work and the value of seeking external assistance. Durham has been incredible in this regard, and I must give a big shout out to my academic advisor and counsellors who have been there with me on this incredible journey. I would say that Durham both the college and its staff do create an environment where all students can succeed notwithstanding their abilities. The Durham experience has definitely built my character by teaching me how to plan my time, how to conduct research and how to prepare work to college level standards.

Online school from Virginia, USA 2020

Taking a break on a sunny day at Durham College

Me with Durham College Mascot

Me with my Professor – Network Administration 2

The programe at Durham taught me a number of things which were not necessarily related to Information Technology. Nowadays, it is very fashionable to ponder whether Artificial Intelligence will render many jobs in Information Technology as obsolete or whether or whether it will actually enhance these careers[3]. Personally, I do feel that some level of “take-over” could potentially happen but that will be in the future. There are a lot of factors that have to be considered such as the measures that the government will take to curb and regulate the use of artificial intelligence.

This potential challenge notwithstanding, I felt that the program at Durham also gave me important skills outside of Information technology. For example, I did a very interesting course on Project Management which gave me a very good insight into how to manage a project from a financial, human resources and client management perspective. These skills are extremely useful outside of an Information Technology career. Even my Sociology course gave me valuable skills in providing a framework to view issues and problems in the world around me, including those I have experienced firsthand. For Communications for Business, who would have thought that I would be making videos about making omelets and elevator pitches. See my Video Links below.

Video Links

My Durham College experience was quite unique given the onset of Covid which made remote learning an important skill. I believe it was a positive experience overall,  including three (3) roommates of varying levels of friendliness and cleanliness. I learnt about writing business letters, designing computer switches and the sociological perspective. At eh end of the day, I am not sure whether I am now ready for the working world, but I can say that my experience at Durham expanded my horizons and exposed me to different ideas and pushed me to succeed. I will always remember it.

[1] http://durhamcollege.ca/programmes/compter-systems-technicians-two

[2] Top Benefits of CCNA Certification (edoxi.com)

[3] https://www.forbes.com/sites/ashleystahl/2021/03/10/how-ai-will-impact-the -future-of-work-and-life/

[regard-luxury]

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[gale-gaze]

✨ People I’d Like To Get To Know Better ✨

Last Song: S1MPL3 by Example

Favorite Color: My childhood love for purple has been reignited, thanks to a certain wizard 💜 I do love colors in general, though

Currently Watching: A whole lotta TaskMaster

Last Movie / TV Show Watched: Jeff, Who Lives At Home

Spicy / Savory / Sweet: Sweet, since my stomach is fairly sensitive to a lot on the savory side of things

Relationship Status: I made a joke Tinder profile solely to talk at randos about Baldur's Gate 3 and my love for Gale, and now I am 2 months into a relationship with a big brown eyed nerd that loves to info dump and share his special interests with me while he cooks for us 🥺

Current Obsession: Honestly, outside of Baldur's Gate 3 and Gale, I haven't been obsessed with much; character and story planning for some writing I'm working on? Neopets and Pokemon? learning coding again? researching project management certification? fashion design? self-care? who knows - it's an enigmatic void up there

Last Thing Googled: A number that contacted me that I did not recognize 😂

[ Thank you so much for the tag - I've never been good with tagging others, but I appreciate that you thought of me 😭 ]

people i'd like to know better!

Thank you @wanderingisobel, @rotatingremains and @aeternaamantess for tagging me! <3

Last song: I, Carrion by Hozier

Favourite colour: Not really a colour, but black probably.

Currently watching: Game of Thrones hehe <3

Last movie/tv show: Game of Thrones lol

Spicy/savoury/sweet: Savoury

Relationship status: in a relationship

Current obsession: BG3, Hozier, God of Warrr and GAME OF THRONES AAAA, Robb Stark….

Last thing you googled: antifa (dont ask) and dot copy and paste ...

Tagging: @vspin. @anderwelt, @tugoslovenka, @yaoiconnoisseur, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @hazellblogs

[notasiren21]

26 for Lukanette WIPs please. :)

26. Party Crasher!Luka

I FUCKED UP AND JUST WROTE IT I GUESS???

Party Crasher

-Lukanette oneshot

“You mean to tell me Agreste ditched you? After all that pleading to let him take you to the party for your successful launch line for next season, he’s ditched you?”

“Kagami, don’t kill him.”

“Fine, remind me why I can’t though? This is such an ass move of his if he’s trying to prove he’s the one for you.”

“Because,” Marinette grits out, faking a toothy smile to a work couple that waves from passing, “I want to castrate and kill him myself.”

Kagami laughs roughly in surprise, “Why the castration?”

“So I can fit his small ass into the tightest pair of skinny jeans we have for our tall teenage girls.” The not so stoic girl sips on her wine, pleased with her friend’s rage. “I told him I haven’t been interested since we were 14, but him thinking I’ll forgive him if I even had a silver of interest in dating him? Fuck him.”

“Or,” Kagami drawls, long nails tapping the stem of her glass as she leans to peer over her friend’s shoulder, “You could fuck him instead?”

Mari gasps in offense, “I am NOT trying for a one night stand, no matter what you guys say.”

“No, you little mouse,” she admonishes, fully heartedly agreeing with the sentiment, “I just mean your big and handsome protective snake is here to save the day.”

Marinette’s mind took a second longer to click the pieces together, trying to make sense of Kagami’s nicknames for her friend group, before her heart thudded and she slowly turned.

There, passing by the models who had walked in Marinette’s designs and batted their false lashes at the rockstar, was Luka Couffaine.

Dressed to the nines in a very punk like and sophisticated way that revealed he very much wanted to impress her and did in fact listen to her fashion advice. Black skinny jeans only he could pull off, high top converse and a white button up with a black vest to overlay it. The cheeky and handsome bastard forgoing the tie to leave one too many buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up to reveal his tattoos.

Oh, on the life of his cat Sass was she proud of him.

And maybe drooling just a little?

He approached her, a sly smile working its way to his lips as he eyed her up and down, eyes shining bright at her black low cocktail that she paired with navy blue heels.

So maybe she sometimes used Luka as a whole for inspiration.

He raised a hand, finger wrapping around a loose curled tendril out of an elegantly messy low bun, “I thought it was the models you were supposed to make the stars of the show.”

“Had I known you were gonna show up, I would’ve worn one of my bests here.”

His hand froze, “This isn’t your best? You tease,” he broke out in a grin. His hand moved further, thumbing at the collection of piercings in her ear he accompanied her with to get years ago. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Well, I’m suddenly glad I can only acknowledge this as awkward and not feel it.” Kagami noted into her class. Her phone buzzed, electing a sigh from her as she began turning. “Have fun, my mother decided to remind me why this wine was a good idea to have before she came.”

She watched her friend walk away, her other -her best friend and other half, remained taking her in and stroking the soft spot under her ear he once claimed with a mark-

The one time they admitted their crushes and strong attraction towards the other the night before he left for tour years ago.

It was the only time Luka had indulged himself in his wants and desires, the only time he had asked to and still provided her with an out. And now he still remains far off in her memories, even as he stands in front of her with that look on his face years later.

“How did you,” she swallows when his soft gaze flicks back up to her eyes with his full attention. “How did you get in? It’s a ticket only event.”

He shrugged, turning to offer her an arm and walk around. “I may or may not have seen Adrien’s post about his mom and dad going to a gala event and him going to see his cousin there. Seems like that took precedence I guess.”

Marinette huffed low, “Félix has been in town for three weeks. Adrien and I had lunch with him the other day.”

Luka stilled as a busboy stopped in front of them, offering them glasses of champagne. Luka’s nose twitched, then his lip as he turned away with a polite smile. Marinette shook her head in turn as well.

“You know you don’t have to pass just because of me, right?”

“Hey, we do this ‘young 20 some year olds unable to drink alcohol’ in solidarity together.” He cracked a smile at that, “Soda is my alcohol.”

“Alright, you can be an honorary member of the alcohol intolerance club.” Luka laughed when she hummed gleefully. “Dork.”

“Nerd.”

“So, back on topic, Adrien just really had no excuse then?”

“Ha, no, even his dad stopped by an hour ago to congratulate me and get press photos done to promote the line. All his son did for me was send a text with a sad face attached to his cancellation.”

“... I can kick his ass, you know?”

“I know, I’m just saving for a rainy day.” She laughed, stepping closer to his side and wrapping both arms around his. “So, the ticket, you party crasher.”

“Right, yeah, I may or may not have called your assistant earlier today to swipe it. I took a guess that she held onto it for safe keeping so-,”

“She’s new, I’m not surprised she just gave it up that easily.” She let Luka guide her into a dance. One hand with painted black holding hers to his chest, the other gently tugging to hold his shoulder before he held her waist.

“Oh, that, that explains a lot now.”

“What?”

He flinched, a nervous glint flashing across his features. “I may or may not have lied about who exactly I was since she didn’t know my name-,”

“Doesn’t listen to your music, already told her the sin she was committing.”

“And who I was to you, specifically-,”

Marinette tilted her head back in a laugh, Luka’s arm tightening to brace her weight, “You said you were my husband, didn’t you?”

He flushes at a memory of once getting a creep off her back a year ago by claiming that very title to her.

“Erm, no, I said I was your boyfriend and may have sold it by saying some pet name and swooning over you just a little,” he watched her eyes go wide then soft, a smile twitching to show. He stepped closer, almost pulling her flush to him, “But if that’s what you want, I can go out and get some marriage certificate?”

She flushed, lips parting and a rush of air passing them.

“Maybe call Jagged up and fly us to Vegas? I mean, we’re both looking good right now, you more so.” Her face went a shade or two deeper. She jumped in surprise when he let go of her hand to play with a tendril again on the right side, tilting her face to press a kiss to her left cheek. “God, you’re such a pretty little thing.”

She squeaked.

“What, what was the pet name?”

“Hm?” He lazily met her gaze, a dream like haze filter over them as he moved her body to sway with his. “Oh, that.”

“What was it?”

Baby, babygirl, beautiful, gorgeous- he may have said more than one.

He gave a slow and wicked grin, twirling her out and back into his chest in a swift and stunning movement as he nudged his nose to hers.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He teased, smile spreading wider and radiant as she forgot to breathe for a second.

What. A fucking. Tease.

The need for him to make good on his words and looks hit through her hard and reminded her of their one night together that they both never forgotten. And how much she wished that was every night, as long as it ended up with them curled right around each other and love and happiness coaxing them to sleep instead of stress and loneliness.

He watched her steel her gaze, her jaw tightened. He swallowed when her height, now of five feet thanks to heels, straightened and forced him to pull up. A violent shiver rocked through him when both hands held along the back of his neck, one slipping under the collar of his shirt to scratch along the nape.

“Marinette-,” he choked.

“I’m only asking so I can show my reciprocation.” She leaned closer, kicking her shoes off into some corner and standing on his converse that every elder of theirs had eyed in question during the night. He supported her actions fully, of course. Still stepping them around in dance within a fluid motion. “Not gonna tell me, hun?”

He coughed, loudly and looked away from her to catch his breath. Watching adults cheat on spouses everywhere or everyone else minding their own business to stare at models or the shrimp on the tables.

He almost tripped when she wined in protest, her hand gripping his chin lightly and turning it to face her. His eyes were flickering between admiration, lust and love, growing three shades of deeper blue than was possible.

“C’mon, baby, tell me.”

“Baby?” He stammered out in surprise. Teenage Luka was having a fucking field day with this. “Marinette, I was only joking earlier and-,”

“Were you really though?”

“No,” his response was fast and instant, a wince playing at the corner of his eyes and his button nose scrunching in loss of control.

“Hey handsome,” he preened under the nickname passing her lips, even if close to millions called him the same thing, it paid more effect when it was Marinette calling him it. “Tell me why you came tonight.”

His neck was aching from staring down to meet her eyes now that the heels were gone but he let himself down lower to press his forehead to hers. “Because you deserve better than what he gives you.”

The girl stilled, expecting an awkward or a flirtatious remark. “What?”

The rockstar looked away sheepishly, a little ashamed. “I know you’re considering getting with him, but when I heard he was canceling on you I let my jealousy win out and I just wanted to be there for you.” He bit his lip when he felt her tugging his face back in her direction, choosing to resist the pressure. “You have to believe me when I say I came with no ulterior motives other than protecting you from going stag to your own party tonight.”

“You, you came to protect me?”

He shrugged, another small shiver racking through him when her hands moved along and glided across his neck. “And make sure you had a good night. I even asked your mom what you were wearing tonight just so I could make sure my outfit complimented yours to cheer you up.”

She was silent for a minute or so, and he waited, patiently as ever and guiding her to rest her head against his chest as he swayed them.

Luka, doing all the work. Luka, taking matters into his own hands when someone fails her. Luka, going the extra mile to make sure she has a happy memory.

Fuck giving second chances to other people. Luka is the only one to have shown her he’s the most earning of the concept and notion.

She pulls away, feeling the slight reluctance in his arms on her waist before they drop to his side, “Grab my heels.”

He raises a black brow but complies, turning to find them and hooking his fingers in the backs. He eyes them, used to seeing her shoes laying around the Liberty when she comes over or even at her own place, but he always has to remark that, “You have small feet.”

“You’ve also called them cute,” she huffs, tugging on his hand and pulling him near the entrance.

He follows, like they always do for one another. “Because they are- where are we going?” He stops them as they round an empty corridor, away from the hotel’s event room where the party is still very much happening. The heel of his palm grips tight to archway, pressing against it, the small shoes still dangling in his hold.

“Home, your place or mine. Actually, mine’s closer.”

He laughs brightly, “You can’t ditch your own party for another movie night, Mari.”

The petite girl turns to him, a fierce expression in his eyes that makes him swallow harshly. “No, but I can ditch to celebrate in getting what I really want. For finally getting what I want.”

“The Chinese takeout place is closed this time of ni-,”

“You.”

“What?” Luka wheezes, he blinks stupidly at her. Prettily and stupidly. He straightens, freehand tugging at his collar a little like he needs room to breathe. “Come again?”

“I’m going home. I’m taking you with me. And we’re gonna celebrate that I finally got off my ass and got what I wanted.”

He hums, nervously and a bounce starting in his hand, a shake in one hand, his dark brows furrow, “And you want?”

“You.”

“You- you want,” he sucks in a sharp breath, pain flashing across his features as he clears his throat. “You want me?”

Her eyes soften, a smile showing as she steps closer to him and takes his face into her hands, pulling him down to be eye level with her as he braces his weight on the wall next to them with a hand.

“Yes,” he looks awestruck as she giggles. “I want you... can you let me keep you?”

He laughs nervously, “I’ll fucking sell myself to you if that’s what you really want, fuck.”

She’s smiling, leaning up on tiptoes to alleviate the strain in his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips, muffling the undignified noise of surprise that escapes him. She lets him get used to her for a second, kissing him slowly and purposely as starts to eventually overcome the shock and kiss her back in reverence.

He pulls away suddenly, a guilted expression on his face.

“Wait, wait. What about Adrien?”

“What about him?”

Luka fidgets, a quick glimpse of insecurities and jealousy showing to her before he regains a semblance of control after having his walls knocked down. “He’s been trying to go out with you, win you affections.”

He only knows of the situation, but never presses her to talk about it. It’s natural for it to come up in conversation everyday when he asks her about work knowing the stress of being twenty-two in a high end fashion company could be a bit more than overwhelming. He wanted to be a safe place to her since the beginning.

“There’s nothing about him. I’ve shut him down an handful of times and now it’s just a matter of letting him indulge himself in what he thinks are romantic gestures when me saying no doesn’t cut it. There’s nothing going on between him and I, just his belief that my crush from years ago accounts for something today.”

Luka still looks wary and isn’t touching her, most likely his conscious trying to be the better person between him and Adrien by not going out with the girl his friend is pining after.

Even if said girl is Luka’s legitimate best friend and the very same girl he’s been in love with since he was a kid.

Marinette feels like it’s a dirty tactic as she gets closer to him, trying to gauge where it’s jealousy and where it’s insecurity in regards to Adrien.

She presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Luka’s head turns minutely at the attention, tilting less than a centimeter to catch her lips before he catches himself. He struggles when her next kiss falls to his lips and is soft and slow, how he always wants to kiss her.

“Remember our first kiss?” She whispers, wounding arms around his waist and pressing close to him.

He matches her volume, an adoring look winning for a split second, “Of course I remember.”

“Remember our first date?”

“At the ice cream parlor, you wore a pink skirt that kept twirling when you did.” She feels his resolve break a little, his own right to be selfish with her slipping out a little.

His arms slip around her, and he presses a gentle kiss to her temple. “Remember our goodbye at the airport?” His arms tightening around her speak more volumes than his strained, “Yes,” does.

She’s just a little closer to convincing him to stop being so sacrificial with his own wants or needs. She just has to push more.

“Remember waking up in one another’s arms that morning?”

He’s silent for a few seconds, thinking of what he can say in response to that. Wondering how honest to be, “... every day, I think of that morning every day.”

She still hears the clipped apprehension in his voice. That tone she knows so well that’s gonna lead into him giving her advice to rethink this whole decision and talk to him when she’s absolutely sure. How she shouldn’t think on impulse and lunge at what she wants unless she knows she does wanna keep with it.

But, he has to know she always thinks back on moments with him and that she longs to have jumped on impulse if it meant being with him.

Every time he’s showed up with takeout at her place. When he smiles so freely at her. When he bandages her cuts and blisters from working all night long.

When he showed up tonight looking like he had been her dare to begin with. How her heart felt when he admitted to lying to her secretary. The way he looked carrying her high heels that were much too small for his hands but he didn’t care because she asked him to.

How he crashed her own party to make sure she’d have fun tonight.

She’s sure she wants this, him.

All those nicknames they could call each other. All the benefits of dating the other and having a date to everything the other needs to attend. Having her best friend be her boyfriend meaning there’s no holding back from anything.

She’ll cringe about it in the morning, but it’s gotta work to break his long instilled fear of being a bad friend or person. Of being unselfish.

“Do you still remember that night?”

She’s sure he’s stopped breaking by the way his entire body seems to shut down, but then it reboots and he’s shaking against her and can’t seem to breathe correctly, his eyes avoiding hers as he swallows again and looking like he’s willing to risk going into an allergic reaction for the sake of one drink.

“That- that’s not something you forget, Marinette.” His hands are twitching on her waist, grip tightening just a little and a vein is jumping in his arm to do something to prove he remembers alright.

One more push, “Do you still remember how I tasted that night?”

He seizes her waist, lunging to kiss her desperately like he did that night and when he left, a growl passing his lips onto hers. He’s cupping the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair, breathing her in and shaking against her as his resolves breaks completely and the selfish side comes out. The one that’s nowhere near as selfish as the average person, but enough to take in the matter of his own needs and wants. He pulls back, letting her watch his eyes darken, the pupils expanding until the blues are next to near mere ridges of color. He’s watching hers do the same before he nudges her nose and kisses her slowly, more loving and affectionate. His control slipping back into place and resulting in the Luka she so loves regaining the handles of his own mind.

He’s careful in the way he tugs her lip with his teeth, how he coaxes her to let him kiss her fully before pull back and panting against her lips.

“Yes, I remember,” his voice is rough and he has to glance away from her and straighten. She watches him take a few meditative breaths before he looks back at her.

“Does that really help?” She gestures to his chest and mouth, “the breathing?”

He laughs hollowly, “No, not really, but it bought me time to create some distance in this,” he glances around, “Not your apartment place.”

She laughs at the suddenly horrified look that crosses his face, the image of them making out and the threat of almost being caught in public instantly dawning on him. He glares playfully at her.

“You did that all on purpose.”

“Had to, you were just about to give me up for the sake of being a good friend to me and Adrien.” She pauses, a wicked idea forming to prove her point, “Unless, you want Adrien to know what that all is like?”

A dark look crosses Luka’s face; unrestrained bouts of suppressed jealousy, possessiveness and territoriality. “No,” he growls out, eyes squeezing shut and having to clear his throat. “I’d rather not let him know any of that personally.”

“Not even how I taste?”

“Marinette,” he warned, the growl resurfacing. She cooed, wrapping him up in a hug and pressing a kiss to his jaw as an apology. He whined, “It’s not funny when you do that.”

“No, but everything you feel is alright to feel. Don’t hold back for the sake of not being selfish. You can be selfish with me, you’re a reasonable guy and know boundaries.” She sighed, nuzzling further into his warm embrace. “I don’t like Adrien the way he wants me to, and lately, it’s hard to even be his friend. He needs to move on from me. Hell, I’m better friends with Félix now than him.”

“Just hope they don’t switch up on you again.”

She huffed in amusement. “God no, I’d kill them.”

“It’s adorable how how your less than five feet body resorts to violence and death threats.”

“Mm, except you, I’m quite fond of you.” She looks up at him, chin pressed to his chest and smiling when he looks at her softly and presses a kiss to her nose. “This, us, is not an impulse. Just a restrained want I’ve had for awhile.”

“Okay, I understand now.”

She grins cheekily at him, “Or need, if that makes you all possessive hot yet secretly adorable rockstar boyfriend mode again.”

“Boyfriend?” He smiled slowly, radiant as always and heart stopping. “If teenage me could hear you, he’d probably shut down from being overwhelmed.”

“Nineteen year old you certainly didn’t that night,” she mumbles, grinning at the loud bark of laughter that surprises the both of them when Luka throws his head back.

“Yeah, thanks for reminding me what age I lost it at, totally rockstar of me, right?” The blush that’s coating his neck and ears is adorable, a shy smile quirking at her briefly.

“I think it’s sweet, cute even.”

“Yeah, because you’re the one I lost it to.” He deadpanned without conviction. “But, I guess I’ll take being sweet and cute.”

“It’s okay though, I mean, I did the cliché of losing my virginity to someone I was in love with.” Luka does in fact shut down in her embrace hearing that. Hands jittering against her and fingers tapping like he’s trying to speak through notes against her skin.

He takes another minute, before pressing a kiss to her hair. “If this is you confessing your love to me -and believe me, it’s killing me to stop you right now, I’d rather you do it in regards to another topic and not the fact that we were one another’s first time.” He avoids the dangerous smirk aimed his way, or the sharp angle of her cocked, black brow above breathtaking blues. “C’mon, let’s go dance some more and celebrate your success before we leave, maybe find your assistant to introduce me as your boyfriend to.”

She pours at him when he tugs on her hand in the direction of the party. “But-,”

He breathed out shakily, a waning patient look in his eyes and a false smirk aimed at her. “Can I sleep over tonight?”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “I’m very close to just following you home at this point, trust me. I don’t care how the night ends, just as long as it’s you and me tonight.”

She’s letting him make them dance again, feeling as the nerves leave his body as he gets them to fall in step with the tempo. He doesn’t care that he has to bend a little ways down to rest his cheek on her hair, not when she’s letting him pull her up against his chest when she typically only reaches the bottom of his rib cage.

They work well together, they fit perfectly together because they’re more than used to the instinctive adapting to one another.

Her hands cup his cheeks, kissing him carefully without reservation and the anxiety, “It was only an impulse at times because I love you and have for awhile.”

Luka deepens the kiss just a little, thankful she’s the type of girlfriend to let him indulge in her as he smiles, “I get it, I’ve had my share of impulsive thoughts for as long as I’ve been in love with you since we were young. I love you, Mari.”

“Enough to crash a party for me, apparently,” she whispered, a little moved by the thought that they were finally together. He thumbed her tears away.

“Enough to kill Adrien or Félix if you ask me to,” he replied in a loving tone, soothing her gasps for air when she broke apart in giggles against his chest in reaction.

He didn’t leave after that night. And he went to every party as her date too.

[kendrixtermina]

Appreciating the Range of Type 6, or, one stereotypical example, and three that aren’t.

I want to tell you about some type 6 ppl that I know in my personal life.

Exemplar #1: F. B.

Complete Stats

Wing: 5 p or cp: largely phobic – lots of safety worries, outright authoritarian follower personality Instinct: sp/soc Trifix: 613  - 6w5 1w2 3w2 (“The Taskmaster” or “The Middle Manager”) jungian: ISTJ / SLI-Te oldham: Conscientious & Aggressive Essence Type: Mars Temperament: Pure Choleric

What he’s like:

Not pleasant.

Every “strict conservative middle aged guy” stereotype in the book. Control freak, makes a mountain out of every molehill, sees the world as full of axe murderers, judgemental as fuck, horrible temper and yet completely impersonable, all his opinions are copypasted from right-wing news sites. When they say war is good he’s for war, and when they say war is bad he’ll be like “At least Trump did not start any more wars” without perceiving a contradiction. Despite this, he believes is very hot, principled and funny. He is none of these things. He puts people down nonstop. My knowledge of neurochemistry tells me that he must have emotions somewhere or he couldn’t function, but I ain’t ever seen a single one of those emotions. They’re all for his job and a few trusted mentor figures. And his mom. At least he loved her.

If you say anything he doesn’t like, he “throws the sofa out the window” as his wife once put it.

How he’s a Type 6:

Well, he’s pretty much every negative stereotype in a nutshell… other than distrusting his partner. But that might be cause hes sx blind, or cause the wife is big on monogamy & wouldn’t ever cheat.

The one positive trait of 6 that he has is that he does his research. Before moving anywhere he googles the crime rates and if you need a doctor he might find you the best one. But even that can be overriden by ideology (hydroxychloroquine!). And if you don’t take his exact advice, there goes the sofa out the window again…

And I guess the work ethic from all 3 parts of the trifix really comes through – he hasn’t had a single bad grade in his life and always keeps collecting new certifications, and will make sure you hear about it...

Exemplar #2: I.

Complete Stats

Wing: 5 P or cp: pretty much an even mix of phobic and counterphobic Instinct: sp/soc Trifix: 614 - 6w5 1w2 4w3 (Would prolly call herself “The Big Pain” rather than “The Philosopher” ^^°) jungian: INTJ / ILI-Ni oldham: Serious & Conscientious Essence Type: Saturn Temperament: Chlor-Mel

What she’s like:

I’d describe her as serious, mature, discerning, focused and passionate about her friendships, if perhaps somewhat forceful at times, with a dry, sarcastic sense of humor.

Comes across like someone who knows what she’s talking about, with well-articulated points.

Often the Responsible Sibling, Designated Sanity Checker or Bullshit Detector.

Prefers to plan everything in advance in typical Ni dom fashion, even amusement part trips. Gets somewhat anxious without a future plan or shedule.

Often mistaken for a whole lot more sociable and confident that she really feels inside. (even I kinda bought it and got her whole darn trifix wrong on my first typing attempt, though that was when I was new to typology) She can act the boss act temporarily to get the situation over with, but she actually hates making decisions.

She does however have the occasional cute/pure moment where that lower function block comes out.

How she’s a Type 6:

She has saved our family from many a terrible restaurant by making sure to check the reviews. The preparing for all possible dangers is very 6, the acting tough outwardly when youre inwardly anxious, the intellectual problem solving & some tendency towards organization/responsibility/ “logistic” intelligence.

One online test she took gave her 5w6 instead of 6w5 but that’s probably just the ITxx-ness leaking in. I remember this one time we were discussing this artsy-fartsy theater play to which we’d had fascinatingly different reactions, and at one point I half-jokingly said something like “But does anyone ever really feel connected to others, or is that a myth?” to which she wrote, “[Name], what the fuck? Yes I do.” and then immediately deleted it. That’s more of a 6 reaction innit?

Nonetheless the wing does feature in significantly – for example she got very well informed about a lot of topics because she researched them to assuage a random survival-related fear, like, “How to make sure I have enough retirement money”

Exemplar #3: M.

Complete Stats

Wing: 7 p or cp: largely phobic Instinct: sp/sx Trifix: 692 - 6w7 9w1 2w1 (Fortunately very much a “Good Samaritan” rather than “The Stockholm”) jungian: ISFP / SEI-Fi oldham: Sensitive & Devoted Essence Type: Lunar-Venus Temperament: Pure Supine

What she’s like:

Precious! Sweet, nice, good listener, friendly, gives all the best gifts. But also perceptive and good at understanding people, eg. mediating to the parents when one of the younger sisters is having An Emotion™ or winning the trust of problem children.

Unlike I. Who has some soc that helps her keep track of a larger circle of friends despite her introversion, M. tends to enjoy the closeness with her family and have just a few very close friends. Excellent friend material all around! The sx and Se also come out in enjoying art forms involving the body like theatre or dance.

She can be a bit shy, conflict-avoidant and occasionally a lil bit panicky though.

As a small kid she used to be super duper shy but then a wise english teacher encouraged her to play a big role in a play, and since then she’s a lot more confident and doesn’t let ppl push her around without limit, though she’s still a quiet, helpful person. There you see the difference that a good teacher can make.

How she’s a Type 6:

For one thing she moves and emotes faster than a core 9 would, and she fits the body language – big eyes that move around a lot, stands a bit lopsided, talks in a shrill voice on the rare occasions where we exhaust her patience etc. As a xSFx and a w7 she shows mostly the “warm, friendly, likeable” side of type 6. She also has a very 6-ish tendency to very frequently ask people’s opinions & feedback before making decisions. (the other fixes probably add to this)

Alas, she also has a little bit of of the fear/insecurity.

Also she has a social/care job which might be seen as 6-ish desire to serve the community.

Exemplar #4: J.

Complete Stats

Wing: 7 P or cp: largely counterphobic Instinct: sx/soc ?? definitely not sp first. Trifix: 638 - 6w7 3w4 8w9(?) (Shall she be a “Justice Fighter” or a “Kyle”? Only time will tell.) jungian: ISTP / LSI-Se ?? Oldham: ? some Dramatic & Serious, perhaps ? Essence Type: Definitely Mercury Temperament: San-Mel

What she’s like:

The first adjective that usually comes to my mind is ‘cool’. Sassy, energetic & a little bit tough, but also affectionate when she wants to be. (though in admiring way rather than a mushy one)

She says the coolest things, has a certain sly sort of cleverness, and an astonishly good poker face. Bit of an occasional prankster. Hilarious. Knows all sort of cool science facts. Avid gamer. 

Not especially popular or over the top sociable, but she gets sad if no one pays attention to her a while. Will act visibly moody where ppl can see sad or worried and can catastrophize a bit in such situations.

How she’s a Type 6:

I first though we might be getting an ExxP type 7 since she was a pretty energetic child, but once puberty hit and independent thought manifested, she turned out a whole lot too reactive and ‘edgy’ for this, and more on the ‘moderate introvert’ side of things.

Since then the sisterly dynamic has been like one fluffy golden dog and 3 hissing black cats. Hissing Cats #1 and #2 are very proud of her, but cat #1 was forced to conclude that she’s probably not a positive outlook type.

Out of all the reactive types 6 fits best because she does broadcast group identity (like wearing merchandise of her favorite media and wearing buttons in solidarity with ppl she likes.) & has a big case of Big Sibling worship for M, I, and someone else who isn’t on this list due to being a 9. (a 4 or 8 might like their older siblings but probably wouldn’t constantly stress the admiration.), but she can also show lasting, pouty displeasure with authority figures who have slighted her. (Like that one time I went too far in teasing her...)

I’m just assuming the 8 fix because that tends to make 6s more bold, louder & more shameless.

Basically she is the “punk teen” type of 6. She can be a bit dramatic & over-the top but still come to her family on advice (even advice on pranks!) in ways that xSTPs of other enneagrams prolly wouldn’t.

She also tends to use self-deprecating humor in tough situations and deflects compliments to present herself as ‘ordinary’.

...

This may sound like I’m really getting down on my first example (I won’t pretend that I’m not) but the point in bringing him up is that the reason he’s like this is: He was subject to really bad parenting that put a lot of fear into him, there was no good parenting to teach him broader coping strategies, he lived in a crappy environment that crushed his dreams, in a sense ‘confirming’ those fears and making him double down, resulting in a person who is just always rigidly following the same predictable pattern or jumping from one automatic reaction to the next with very little pausing and thinking. That goes for the other types too: A ‘stereotypical’ person is a desperate person ruled by fear, who cant stop or soften up even for an instant cause they constantly feel this fire of threat under their arse.

A lot of descriptions say that 6s ‘Follow authority’ but most would balk at the notion – ‘I do the research!’ they might argue ‘I don’t just trust anyone’ or ‘I’m actually a rebel’. There is of course such a thing as denial  that’s more like the extreme case.

But with a more average, functional 6 it’s not so much ‘obedience’ as that they just like to bounce their ideas off of others to get feedback, or that they feature in other’s viewpoints. So you might get someone who can naturally use feedback (something other ppl may have to learn first) or who is very considerate of others (which others might have to consciously remind themselves to do.)

Those are sometimes pretty good traits actually.

On the other hand this is probably part of what makes decisions hard cause they consider all these possible scenarios of how things might displease or cause harm to everyone involved.

Being able to naturally snap into Action Mode under stress looks a bit enviable from the outside, but I. assures me that it’s actually super stressful & exhausting, even for someone who doesn’t get to a point of just being unreasonably aggro at you.

Though even an extreme case like F.B. would probably claim that he ‘did the research’ even as he’s 1:1 quoting the Pope at you, and then saying that you ‘have to be respectful’ even if you don’t even believe in Christianity. Hence why you get a lot of authoritarians talking about “disrespect”. You didn’t “fail to obey”, you “disrespected the flag” or  “hurt the feelings of the Chinese people”. Because they’re still trying or inwardly thinking that they’re doing the consideritation & considering other’s PoV thing when they’ve long since crossed from respect and consideration into mindless obedience, all while still thinking that they’re very sceptical and discerning cause after all they really distrust the other political party or whatever.  

In a way you get this obsession with ‘mind control’ cause they’re not unaware of & very much looking to guard the blind spot. They’re adults trying to do adult things.

For example, if I voiced an opinion to F. B. which he didn’t like, his reaction was often to ask “who told you that”

That’s just how he seems to think opinions work, somebody tells them to you.

Makes one wonder how he thinks new opinions start.

Yeah - Nobody told me that. I concocted it myself in some corner of my head. And in the interest of objectivity, I should stress that you can also end talking out of your ass that way, if you’re not basing it on enough outside data. Making up new shit has more of a quadratic than a linear learning curve – at least with copying you get something semi-useful right away. In making up your own you might be really off a long time before you stumble on something useful.

Also, I was young at the time and it’s not wholly unreasobale to think that an inexperienced person might be duped. I reacted really badly in part cause he hit my own ego buttons cause I was of course proud of this epiphany that I had concocted by myself, and now he says (or so I perceived it, being sensitive to accusations of incompetence) that I’m too dumb to form an opinion, so of course I launched into full Obnoxious Reddit Dude Mode.

In I. It manifests more on a reasonable useful level like “Oh wait, should [young cousin] be on TikTok? I don’t want him to get sucked into some cultish BS.” which is at least something the parents should have on the radar/ warn him about even if they do let him use TikTok, because for all that it is vital for him to get his experience with independent socializing & experimentig with sel-presentation, people do sometimes get suckered into cults or goaded into unsafe tests of courage.

And in a sense… maybe they overamphasize it but to some extent they’re also simply consciously aware/ mindful of it. The rest of us are not immune to propaganda after all, solong as it’s presented in a way pleasing to our egos. Any type structure can become a ‘hook’ if you’re not careful.

[slytherflynn]

Old and New | Pt I

Blaise Zabini x muggle!reader

word count: 1971

summary: y/n is new to France on a study abroad trip. Blaise is visiting France post-Hogwarts. rags to riches story of an unfortunate muggle falling for a complicated, ridiculously wealthy person who just so happens to also be a powerful Wizard.

a/n: this started with an idea, became a moodboard, then became an entire fleshed out fic! I thought it would be short but my brain had other ideas. enjoy! note: I did write this from my personal perspective in life. as a result it is not very inclusive. I plan to change that with my next fics, I’ve just been having a really hard time lately and have been writing a lot of comfort fics and/or self-inserts to escape from irl bc irl is rly shitty for me rn

It’s a brand-new start, in a brand-new apartment, in a brand-new city, in a brand-new country... an ocean away from home. I can bring Tacoma to France, right? At least, that’s what I’m trying to tell myself. Study abroad is fucking... scary. I kinda regret it. It’s a good opportunity and for someone who doesn’t travel, it should be a fun experience. But I’m currently having an anxiety attack over taking out the garbage, so I’m not sure my positive self-talk is working.

I look out the window of my top floor apartment, wait until someone finally finishes walking down the stairs, and run out my door - I nearly trip about five times going down the spiral of death, my arms feel like jelly thanks to perpetually pushing my garbage deeper in to avoid this trip, and I swing with all my might to hurl my garbage bag into the trash compacting dumpster - only it hits the bottom lip and falls to the ground, splitting open.

“Great!” I say, sarcastically, “First they send my luggage to the wrong location, then they try to say my passport isn’t valid because my apartment was a temporary address, then I’m greeted with a fridge full of rotting food and no power, then I’m bitten up by fleas and now - I just- fuck. Why can’t I just- do anything- right-“ I cut myself off when I hear a screen door slide and blink a couple times to erase the threat of tears that had been creeping up on me while I ranted.

When I look up, I see a tall, dark-skinned guy about my age - handsome. He’s wearing a suit, and expensive jewelry. Combine that with the fact he’s living in the apartment building next to me, which is worth more than my life just for one month of rent, and I put together that he’s probably rich beyond belief. I quickly look away, not wanting to stare. I silently pick up my garbage, piece by piece. As I work, I feel eyes drilling holes in the back of my head. I ignore it. It continues, and I still ignore it as I finally shove my ripped garbage bag in the compactor and slam the door shut. I hear a slight jump up above, and chuckle to myself.

I zoom back up the stairs and almost make it to the top, but I trip 5 stairs away from my door - and fall, hard. Body laid out flat hard. Cheek scraped and stinging from the metal grating on the stairs, hard. Lost the goddamned slide that caught on the stair, and can see it gradually falling, bouncing and rolling down the stairs, hard. I lift my head and see blood on the stair. I feel it running down my face. All I can think is that this really fucking hurts. The tears come, a combination of pain and frustration, and I pick myself up and stumble my way into my apartment, completely forgetting about the attractive rich boy who just watched me be a danger and inconvenience to myself.

I rush to the kitchen and grab a roll of paper towels, and run to the bathroom, I see the markings in the mirror and can tell it will leave a sizeable scar. Do I need stitches? I don’t know. Anyway, I start dabbing at everything and blood is still oozing out of every nook and cranny, to my displeasure. I’m about to start bandaging my face when I hear a knock on my door. “Fucking Christ!” I mutter to myself as I slap a wad of paper towels on my face and sulkily go to fling open my door.

I’m not sure who I’m expecting, but to see the same rich guy on my doorstep, slide in hand, probably wasn’t it. “Hey, um, I saw what happened, and I thought you might want your shoe back.” His accent sounds very British - I was expecting it to sound more like a snooty Frenchman’s.

“Oh. Um. Thanks.” I say flatly.

As my muscles twitch to begin closing the door, he says, “Would you like some help cleaning that up? I have certifications to give medical aid... and stitches. My name’s Blaise, by the way.”

Doctor, maybe? Probably. “Sure,” I say, opening the door wider and standing back so the blood doesn’t drip on his suit. “I’m y/n.”

A few minutes later we’re in my bathroom, me sitting on the toilet, him sitting on the bathtub as he helps me fix my face. “So, Mademoiselle y/n,” He asks, “Do you find yourself in these predicaments very often?”

“Which one? Poverty, flea bitten, or bloody?” I say.

“I suppose whichever you’d like to think I was referring to.”

“Well, in *that* case - I’m usually caught unawares in all kinds of predicaments - though I’d say self-injury due to clumsiness is an uncommon one. And do you usually find yourself in predicaments requiring you to treat someone’s wounds?”

“I used to, though now it’s only on the occasion.”

“Sounds like an improvement,” I note. “I won’t guarantee it, but I think I’ll get the hang of walking up the stairs soon enough, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily mind it if I did worry about you once or twice more. Why were you running? It seemed like you wanted to get away from something. Does your garbage compactor smell that disturbing?”

“It doesn’t smell great,” I admit, “But truth be told, I’m not a fan of human interaction. It’s scary. Especially when everything is new to me.”

“How long have you been In France?”

“A few days, just enough to get myself physically settled.”

“I see. And you are from America?”

“Mhm. Let me guess, my accent gave it away.”

“And the slang, I’ve yet to hear someone from France use certain terms that you seem to favor.”

“Oh, most of my slang is specific to my city, not just my country.”

“Your city?”

“Yea, Tacoma. It’s near Seattle, if you know where that is. Tacoma’s better, though.”

“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been there. My mother is a fashion designer, but she only travels where there’s inspiration or a business deal.” So that’s how he gets the expensive clothes. The rest of the money too, probably.

“Must be nice, having a handmade closet.” I muse. “Not that I care for having any more clothes than I brought. They’re pretty reliable, if I do say so myself.”

He laughs. “Yes, well, if the blood stains don’t come out of your jumpsuit you might need a new one. They shouldn’t be too difficult to remove, though.”

“Yea, I’ll just dump a bucket of Oxi-Clean on it and call it a day. That is, if any stores nearby have it.” I frown, realizing I have no clue if France carries any of the products I usually get. This is gonna suck. Hopefully the internet has some answers so I don’t have to ask anyone for help.

“Why don’t I take your jumpsuit back with me? Save you the trip. Believe it or not, I used to have chronic nosebleeds, so I know a thing or two about stain removal.” Blaise offers.

I smile, only just. “Well, if you insist. But I love this jumpsuit practically more than myself, so I expect it back right away!”

He returns the smile. “A fan of fashion? You ought to meet my mother.”

I chuckle. “I’m sure your mom would despise me - I only own seven jumpsuits and some athleisure for going on runs.” I pause, then tack on: “Oh, and some fuzzy pajamas for when I’m sick.”

Blaise cocks a brow at me. “And when you’re not sick?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I grin mischievously.

A wave of recognition graces his eyes, and he very quickly looks away, I assume for being flustered.

“You Americans, always so scandalous.” He tsks in mock scorn.

“That’s what we’re known for, is it not?” I say cheekily, “Beer, boobs and gun barrels. And all the other problems that come with that, but that’s a can of worms I am not looking to open today.”

He ties off his handiwork, and says, “It looks like my job is finished, other than stealing your jumpsuit off your back to fix it. I can wait in the other room, if you’d like?”

“Um, yea, that works. Lemme just, grab my next jumpsuit. Gonna have to do laundry early, I suppose-“

“I can wash your jumpsuit for you. I’m pretty good at reading labels, if I do say so myself.” He jokes.

“Oh?” I say, “Then you must be a real genius! Who taught you, Einstein?”

“No, but it was another white-haired, eccentric man, so you’re not that far off.”

“When all teachers are like that it’s kind of impossible not to hit relatively close to the mark.” I remark, then change clothes as quickly as I can, tossing the dirty outfit into a trusty plastic bag and tying it shut.

When I walk out to the living room, Blaise is toying with one of my sculptures. He’s definitely been meandering and lurking around. “Enjoying yourself?” I ask, at which he jumps. “You’re rather skittish, Blaise.”

“And you’re rather quiet on your feet, y/n.” He observes. “But yes, I quite like your eclectic style. If only you had an apartment that let your customization shine. Something more minimalist.”

“Yes, well, it’s something I’ll forever dream of and likely never accomplish. I don’t suspect I’m going to be someone leaving the income level I was born into.” I say, just a little bit cynical.

“And why is that?” He asks.

“Because most people don’t, and the ones who do are the ones who make money. My career isn’t going to make me money.” I reply.

“So why did you pick it?”

I sigh. “Because somebody has to care about the people like me. The politicians don’t, the middle class don’t, and the rich are hell bent on keeping us there so they can have factory workers and have people going straight to prison after they graduate because we’re all desperate and miserable.”

He frowns. “That’s terrible.”

“It’s reality. And I don’t want to be like the people who get rich and stop caring because all they see is the wage difference and pretend it’s justified so they don’t have to feel complicit in the system.” I look him in the eye, my face grim. “Not all luck is by chance. Most of it is by design.”

He nods. “I understand, in a way.”

“Everyone does.” I say. “But understanding in a way and caring enough to do something about it are two different things.” I look away from him when I see his posture change. “I’m not trying to be rude, but it’s impossible not to notice the wealth gap between us when you’re wearing designer clothes and living in what looks like a mansion and I’m living in a building made in like 1900 with no elevator. It’s just the way things are, though.”

“I know.” He says quietly, thoughtfully. “I’d better get going. Your clothes?” He reaches out tentatively for the bag I’m still holding.

“Oh. Right.” I say, handing it to him. Our fingers brush against each other slightly, and it sends chills down my spine. He heads to the door while I’m rooted to the spot, collecting myself.

“I look forward to seeing you again, y/n.” He nods, meeting my eyes with a rather changed expression.

“I’ll see you soon, then?” I ask, not quite sure which answer I’m expecting.

He smiles, only just. “As soon as I am able.” Seconds later, he’s out the door, and I’m alone in my dingy ass apartment. How in the fuck did any of that just happen?

[peytonconner]

Reading Response #2

At first, the .gif made me very impatient due to the constant loading signs popping up. But as it continued, I focused more on the different colors that kept appearing in different snip bits. While focusing on the color a little too much the .gif kept repeating different small clips in a strobe light fashion making my eyes become overwhelmed. It was at this point that I thought this could be some type of hypnotist video. The clips began to get more disturbing, and I recognized a few images that were originally two separate pictures. The .gif seemed to be pushing recognizable images at a fast pace making the whole thing come off a bit aggressive.

http://readwrite.com/2012/03/21/how_gif_trash_became_internet_culture_glue#awesm=%7Eovwusn356HMjQR

In this article about .gif culture, I found it to be intriguing because I was not aware of the history behind .gifs. The .gif started back in 1987 and is nothing new to society so I guess that many people my age are accustomed to seeing them causing the lack of interest in these funny images. I like the idea of .gif because they make pictures come to life or combine different memes that are all over social media. With technology continuously progressing since 1987 .gifs have become much more extravagant and common. This creates a very enjoyable feed and lovely thing to do to waste time.

http://www.wired.com/design/2013/10/would-you-pay-2000-for-a-youtube-artwork-someone-did-last-week/

From this link, I really enjoyed the concept of every piece was different and that the 14 pieces added up to a $90,000 profit. The Sony DSC piece was my favorite. This was because of the movement and the directions the linework pulled my eyes. The colors that were used made it stand out even more because it reminded me of staring at a Sony DSC lens and the reflection of colors you see. The 20875-1380807155-Americans-Sequence-1-new-(1) reminded me of television static and how it would be way cooler if this colorful pattern was used instead of the usual black and white screen.

http://blogs.guggenheim.org/the-take/all-that-glitters/

The glittery ad first gives me the impression of a weird video game that is trying too hard to appeal to the female audience. After reading further into it I realized why we see so many moving sparkles in .gifs and how they became a popular trend. By music videos and other famous people using this glittery pop to add to the trend. The glitter is very poorly animated for today's standards and it's easy to see why this was left in the past.

https://chicagoist.com/2012/03/14/animated_gifs_invade_the_mca_an_int.php

I really enjoyed watching the TAGTEAM TWEEN .gif because of the changing between lettering, characters' faces, and the switch of pink to green. I found it interesting that they teamed up with the twohundredfiftysixcolors and after reading this and looking back on the .gif it really shows their style of creating. Also after reading the article it was my first time hearing about .gifs being shown through a gallery and then later the MCA. I really liked the idea of everyone showing up at the same time with their respected laptops ready to view various .gifs created for their pleasure.

https://hyperallergic.com/19769/how-do-you-sell-an-animated-gif/

Watching the video I thought it was smart of Lauren to sell the .gifs at an event where no one else was selling them as well. She is selling them on a 27-inch mac book and has different artists with multiple artwork files up for grabs. It was interesting to hear that what people are actually buying is the animated .gif file on a USB and they take it offline so the collector can have it locally. With your purchase, you can also get a fancy certificate!

https://news.artnet.com/art-world/a-brief-history-of-animated-gif-art-part-one-69060

I like how the article shows the Mario cart clouds for their first example of a .gif. Because it is pretty well-known people will more likely understand the concept of a .gif. And it brings a nostalgic feeling to the viewers. I also like their example of where and how art happens in a .gif called Simple Net Art Diagram. The flashing light bulb shows where the different art occurs and all the unlimited possibilities that can arise from this piece. This piece also only makes the light bulb flash, and it is clear that the bubble is the center focus.

https://www.popularmechanics.com/technology/a21457/the-gif-is-dead-long-live-the-gif/

For this link, I could only see the skeleton .gif and not the article that follows. But my first reaction to the .gif was that I've seen it before in a cartoon or newspaper. Reading just the title I can grasp that this .gif is or was pretty well known but has become out of style. This is understandable with technology changing and colors being more appealing than just black and white. The dancing skeletons still give off a sense of fun and Halloween presence.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vuxKb5mxM8g&feature=emb_title

In this video, I appreciate the quick and understandable explanation of a .gif. And it was the first time I heard about .gif separation due to the division of web 1.0 (the 80s- 90s) and web 2.0 (2000s). The .gif goes away for about seven to eight years but its popularity skyrockets due to multiple new platforms being created and now can showcase .gifs. Tumblr was one of the key factors in .gifs regaining their popularity. Because it is easy to create, share, and even post your .gifs for the whole world to see. People love to watch small clips that they can relate to because it is comforting and fun.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=1&v=wgTWPkK5wvo&feature=emb_logo

At first, I enjoyed looking at Toyin Odutola's artwork and seeing the influence of being a black woman that is owing whatever they make of themselves. As the video continued on I liked the comparisons drawn between comics and .gifs. These separate artworks are both just images broken down to a certain point and time. When Toyin was doing her drawing, I thought about when she finishes it could result in a comic or a .gif. But its purpose was to be transformed into a .gif and I liked that Toyin added a shadow behind her hand because it added much more movement in the .gif.

[kuramirocket]

Growing up in California in my grandmother's house, surrounded by tías, tíos, and all my cousins, I always felt a deep connection to my Mexican-American roots. Every generation of my father's family has had incredibly different experiences that reflect much about American history. 

My great-grandfather on my abuela's side, Daniel Martinez, grew up in Mexico and immigrated to Los Angeles. Eventually, he saved enough money to open a neighborhood market, which is where he met my great-grandmother, Guadalupe Miranda Martinez. She had come from Mexico to Los Angeles with her mother and brother as a young teenager. They soon married and began having children. When he lost his business in the 1920s, the family turned to migrant farm work. They were forced to use segregated water fountains and bathrooms and my darker-skinned tíos and tías were sent to Mexican schools, while those with light skin and blonde or red hair were allowed to attend schools with white students.

Unhappy with the segregated schools, my great-grandfather joined up with other families to open the East Barrio School for Latinos in Claremont, CA — fighting the status quo is part of my heritage! They taught reading and writing in Spanish and learned Mexican history at a time when it was hard to show pride about being Mexican.

My great-grandfather on my abuelo's side, Catalino Alba, came from Mexico during the Revolution. He met my great-grandmother when he immigrated to Gallup, NM, where he helped build the Santa Fe Railroad. He was a musician and inspired my abuelo José Alba to sing, practice traditional Mexican dance, and become an accomplished classical guitarist. As a child, there was never a family party where my abuelo didn't play guitar while my abuela, tíos and tías, and cousins sang along. Perhaps this is where I got my love for the performing arts!

My great-grandfather moved to San Bernardino, CA, to work on the railroad and my abuelo José Alba grew up in the barrio where he and his siblings slept head to foot. With little food at home, he often asked the neighbors for fruit from their fruit trees. He was compelled to eat dirt, which he later learned was a natural response to the lack of iron that he needed in his diet. As a kid, he wasn't allowed to swim in a public pool without a certification of vaccination. He would often get glass stuck in his shoes because the soles were so thin and worn out — he couldn't afford anything else. At one point, glass punctured his foot, and as a result he developed lockjaw, which was nearly fatal.

When he could work, he made money selling oranges and picking potatoes. He says the first thing he did when he had money was to go down to Main Street to have his shoes shined by a young boy. He told that boy that he would come every week because he knew he was trying to make his own way too.

There were 12 kids in the family and my abuelo is proud that his mom figured out a way to send them to school as soon as it was possible. She understood the value of education. Even though it was hard for them, she made it a priority.

This is my abuelo and abuela's wedding above — so classic. I always thought our ancestors were Spanish, but I learned through genetic testing that they were Native American, with roots that may go back as far as the Mayan civilization. We've been here from the beginning!

My parents, Mark and Catherine Louisa Alba, were so different . . . but they had the same hairstyle! I know that when my dad was growing up it was difficult for him and his parents to be Mexican-American. The hyphen wasn't an option back then.

My abuelo had only learned English when he transferred to grammar school at around 6 years old, and he was way behind as a result. Like many others of their generation, my grandparents didn't teach their children, including my dad, to speak Spanish. My abuelo says that he didn't even think about it, but I wonder if he associated it with a difficult transition in his life.

I want my girls to embrace their Latino roots, know how much we have contributed to this country, and understand that the road ahead is richer when we acknowledge and embrace our heritage. I want them to learn Spanish like their great-grandparents. I'm incredibly proud of my diverse heritage and I want my daughters to feel the same way.

Jessica Alba is something of a triple threat: She's managed to achieve major success as an actress, fashion designer, and business mogul. It's hard to imagine anyone not wanting to work with Alba, but early in her career she had a hard time getting roles because of her race.

"They couldn't figure out my ethnicity," Alba said. "I would always go out for 'exotic.' They were like, 'You're not Latin enough to play a Latina, and you're not Caucasian enough to play the leading lady, so you're going to be the "exotic" one.' Whatever that was."

Of course, Alba eventually ended up starring in hits like Fantastic Four, Into the Blue, and Good Luck Chuck. So, yeah, it's safe to say she proved those people wrong.

And not only is this actress leading by example; she's also taking steps to change the game herself. The creation of Alba's cosmetics line, Honest Beauty, which she founded as part of her brand, The Honest Company, in 2015, stemmed from her own struggles as a young girl trying to find a foundation that matched her unique complexion. "I didn't feel like, when I was younger, that there were a lot of things offered to women of color," she said.

So Alba went out and made her own. "The philosophy around starting this beauty line is about enhancing who you are instead of cover up and turn you into somebody else," she said.

Jessica Alba’s startup The Honest Company is a veritable success — approaching over $350 million in sales during a year in which many companies struggled — but venture capitalists turned up their noses to the idea at first.

In 2009, Alba had a real issue: She couldn’t find baby products for her newborn that were guaranteed to be safe and eco-friendly. After having an allergic reaction to one of the allegedly baby-safe detergents she bought, she developed her idea the same way many successful entrepreneurs get started: She pitched building the solution she herself wished was on the market.

Alba pitched serial entrepreneur Brian Lee on her idea, who reportedly passed after saying it wasn't “very promising.” The feeling that others don’t see potential in you or your business idea is a familiar frustration for budding entrepreneurs. At the time, Alba remarked that she felt nobody took her seriously as an entrepreneur, or even believed in her idea, even though she knew there would be demand. 

But just five years later, The Honest Company reached unicorn status, valued at over one billion dollars. What changed in those five years that let her take her failed pitch to becoming a success story?

To perfect your pitch, experiment

Fast forward to 2012. Alba is now in Washington, lobbying for an update to reform the 1976 Toxic Substances Control Act. Buoyed by her growing knowledge on the subject, she went back to Lee and pitched him again.

This time, her deck was much more concise, down to less than 30 minutes from start to finish. In a world where most entrepreneurs give up after a rejection or two, Alba instead had spent the years between their two meetings pitching her idea to friends, getting holes poked in her positioning,and answering each and every supply chain question that arose. 

Another change had happened over the last three years: Venture capitalists like Lee, whom she was pitching, had all started young families. Alba’s pitch was rock solid, and as an added bonus her prospective investors wanted the product themselves. 

Lee said yes to the second pitch. The first year The Honest Company was in business, it reported an astonishing $12 million in revenue, a number that has only increased each year. After facing initial rejection on her pitch, Alba’s decision to persevere has led The Honest Company to dramatic success.

At first, everyone told Alba she should start with one product, then expand once that was successful. But this didn’t gel with Alba’s vision of a complete line of baby-safe products; the founder knew parents who wanted clean products wanted a brand that could provide multiple solutions.

Ultimately, Alba ignored the conventional advice and launched with 17 products, which many people believed was too many. But because she didn’t compromise on that, either to venture capitalists or herself, the launch was a total success.

Sources: (×) (x) (x) (×)

[elleharperbcu]

Task 1: Concept Mind Maps

In pairs we produced a mind map of each others concept, for our final project, planning and considering how we can explore the following factors:

Research

Experimentation

Sampling

Development 

Production

Personal Reflection/ Evaluation 

Project/ Time Management 

We was asked to write down our narrative on a piece of paper and swap with our partner so we had each others narrative. We then wrote down our ideas that came to mind related to their narrative, in order to help them with new ideas they may not have thought of or knew about. I really enjoyed this task as it helped me learn new facts about the petite world and I was able to complete lots of research. I always loved hearing about my peers narratives and their stories as to why they are focusing on a certain topic. 

My completed research from this task:

Petite models - 

After researching about types of work available for petite models I found out that other than Moss, most petite models do commercial and catalogue work. Models who work in fashion generally work with high street brands specialising in petite clothing. It is very rare for a petite model to find high-fashion work on the catwalk or for designer labels. This is something that I find unfair as your height should not matter. However, petite models are not restricted when finding work. This is due to an increase in brands catering for men and women with smaller frames and shorter legs, petite models are now employed to keep up with this fashion industry demand. 

Successful petite models - 

Models who have refused to obey the stereotypical image associated with top designers, catwalks and campaigns are creating a path for petite models. These inspiring successful models have completely ignored the height restriction demonstrating that a smaller stature is required in the fashion industry. “Successful petite models are making an impact in a tall girls stomping ground, ignoring the confinements set upon them.” 

Twiggy -

A british icon in the sixties and only 5″4. She revolutionised the stereotypical look of the era, starting a new breed of supermodels. Her height is rarely mentioned due to her confident persona that demands attention. She is still the shortest model with such a supermodel status. 

Beautiful dreams - Twiggy records her first single 

Anja Konstantinova - 

Russian-Australian model, her impressive range of work includes, Vogue, Marie Claire, Urban Outfitters and French Connection. At 5″4 her height is not an issue with each shot demanding attention with her striking features, blonde hairs and natural posing instincts. The successful model discovered in a melbourne hair salon has received lots of rejection in her career, but she continues to break boundaries in a predominantly tall industry. 

She explains: “People in Australia don’t accept shorter girls because they are a bit harder to work with, you have to photograph them in a certain way.”

How to make the most of your petite frame - 

Don’t draw attention to your shorter height when interacting with clients and via body language. You will have to work extra hard to get noticed, which means standing tall and learning to highlight your height in photos. Never be caught slouching and be sure to work on poses that lengthen your lines. Good posture and strong stature goes a long way when presenting yourself to an agency meeting and photoshoot. 

Petite models who changed the fashion industry -

Lily-Rose Depp

Lily-Rose made her runway debut with chanel in 2016. She is just 5″3, but that did not stop her from becoming the muse of fashion icon Karl Lagerfeld. 

Amina Blu 

This German/ Pakistani beauty is 5″1 and no stranger to New York Fashion Week. Amina has walked for Kanye West more than 5 times. With her unforgettable looks and signature looks, Amina will keep making headlines. 

The ‘Size 0′ movement

Sizes range from 0-2 which is extra small to 14-16 which is larger. Smaller sizes are usually petites, and larger sizes usually found in womens or plus size departments. 

The size-zero ban is proof fashion industry on finally listening to customers. The use of size zero models has been a fashion industry scandal for many years. France’s top fashion house have committed to stop underage and size zero models from featuring in catwalk shows and advertising campaigns. Owners of brands such as Saint Laurent and Louis Vuitton say they want to persuade others in the industry to follow suit. The industry has long been accused of promoting unhealthy body images of women and ignoring well-documented health problems experienced by models. In 2017, the French government voted through a law requiring models must have a medical certificate confirming they were not dangerously underweight. 

“No model under 16 years will be recruited to take part in fashion shows or photographic sessions representing adults.” Models between 16-18 years will no longer be allowed to work between 11pm and 6am and must be accompanied by a parent or chaperone if required to stay away from home. 

“The wellbeing of our models is a fundamental subject” the statement from LVMH read. 

Mallory Schlossberg - “I’m part of a huge demographic that retailers largely ignore - here’s why it’s so frustrating” 

When reading this article I very much related myself to it, she mentions being reminded of her height near enough everyday, she is 4″11 like me. “There are only a few times when I'm reminded how short I am: when I'm riding the subway and someone pushes right into me because I'm not in his peripheral vision, when I can't reach my kitchen cabinets and hop onto the counter, and when I'm shopping.” 

When she was in high school and college she frequently shopped in the kids section. She mentioned it being impressive to see the selection that’s available for wealthy, stylish kids these days. She is able to wear a lot of designer apparel that are much cheaper than adult prices as kids clothes takes less fabric to make. However, it comes to a point in an adult woman's life where you do not want to shop in kids section anymore, she wanted to wear apparel for women because she is a woman. Adult size small dresses zip up just fine, but they hug in all the wrong places and drag on the ground or are longer fit on her than they’re supposed to be. 

“It's frustrating. How do you shop for clothes and not look like a child in children's clothing — or a child playing dress up in her mother's closet?”

There are retailers that do cater to petite women although the ranges are very limited. 

“Walk into Ann Taylor, Loft (where I buy my jeans), J. Crew, Banana Republic, or a department store, and you'll see selections of petite clothing, often relegated to a small corner with an odd amalgam of apparel, as though the merchandise team is wondering, "who is this petite woman? Is she a mother? Is she frumpy? Is she a decaying 90-year-old? Is she youthful and feisty? Is she too young to show off her curves? Is she a virgin?" The answer  — from a petite woman — is that she is none of the above, and she is all of the above. The petite woman is just like the regular-sized customer...only shorter.”

Retailers seem very confused with how to deal with short women. Topshop and Anthropologie are starting to recognise that short women like to look fashionable too, but the lack of options and concern for petite shoppers is noticeable. The reason as to why there are fewer petite options and not all stores offer apparel for smaller-framed women is because it requires a different design pattern. 

As blogger TanyaTheAnonymousModel wrote on Jezebel:

"For a dress to look the same on a petite woman, a standard size woman and a plus woman — for the hem to hit at the same place on each woman's leg, for the waist to sit at the appropriate height, for the neckline to flatter but not overexpose, for the pockets to be useful, easily reached, and neither too small nor too big — requires, in effect, three totally different paper patterns, each with a separate, and expensive, development process."

The Fashion Institute of Technology in New York City offers a continuing education course in image consulting, combining petite and plus size bodies together as "special size" customers — noting that they make up about a tremendous amount of the population. The course description reads as follows:

"Over 70 million U.S. women fall into the special size category, that 50 % of the population is actually under 5'4", and 65 million women are considered plus size. Designers, patternmakers, retailers, stylists, and image consultants, and wardrobe technicians can all benefit from this in-depth workshop that demystifies the special size business potential. Learn the facts behind the figures with practical information for fulfilling the expectations of the special size customer with proper fit, fashion, and service. Highly recommended for anyone looking to increase sales and services. Interact with our two industry experts as they each tackle the dilemmas facing both the petite and plus-size customer and give concrete directions for satisfying their shopping needs and fashion passions."

An undergraduate course "sketching for fashion designers" mentions that "Large, half-size, petite, and junior-size figures are featured to study proportions used in the industry". Showing petites aren't entirely ignored in design school, they just aren't given equal attention. They're generally not on runways; runways are about aspiration, and who aspires to be 5'2''?

“Petite women have not been celebrated loudly as equals. They have not been given body-positive model icons to speak on their behalf, although we do have Kelly Ripa, Snooki, and Kim Kardashian in our corner. There has not been a call to action. There hasn't been any real vocal repugnance, but instead, there's been a silence and a void, which is too telling. Petite women have been pushed aside, not permitted to speak — much like the children for which many try not to be mistaken.”

[betweentheracks]

can you tell us what your credentials are and what sort of studies/coursework did you have to take up to get to your position? and, if not too personal, what your day to day work life might look life in and out awards seasons or other big ticket events your clients might need styled for?

This is long and rambling, I do apologize. 

Regarding coursework and education routes into becoming a pro stylist, the thing is that there isn’t necessarily a need for a specific type of education. You could literally drop school and strive for success by the grit of your teeth and iron will alone if you really want and still could gain great acclaim. It isn’t exactly common but it does happen if you strike upon fortunate circumstances and garner experience wherever possible to form the base of your portfolio and profile which will later shape your reputation. 

As it is, most studios and clients do tend to give more consideration to those that come from an academic qualifications and learning. While experience if the foreground on which all stylists (and any other set of industry workers) tread, having the support and security of studying styles and fashion and marketing and all manner of related blather gives a sense of merit and provides opportunities for your to be selected for a job despite a lack of reputation or experience. The best stylists fall from both trees and the worst do as well; there is no guaranteed recipe for success in this field as fashion itself is too fluid in expression to be quantified. 

As for what I did; I had hands in both pots and have the educational background that assures I know what I am doing in terms of textual/technical understanding as well as experience from moments of pure luck compounded by my audacious efforts. I have a Bachelor’s compromised of fashion merchandising, fashion retailing, marketing, and visual arts. I took side courses at a fashion technical institute with a more tailored program that catered to the fundamentals of fit, body (and measurements) assessment, design and trends, media styling, and fashion industry principles. Additionally I did half a semester of social skills in a business. From there I went on to snatch up an internship and spent a bit more than a year being a shadow of the stylists for the company I work for before grasping a golden chance to become notable and step beyond that restricted role. I also have the certifications of AICI CIC and AICI CIP with hopes to one day finally snag the coveted AICI CIM (respectively; certified image consultant, certified image professional, certified image master).

I had friends that have worked in and out of this end of the industry and knew from the jump that I wanted to pad my portfolio with the safety net provided by academia and use it to bridge the gaps in my experience early on. I figured if I had the knowledge of how to deal with the business side of things as well as the styling side then I was a bit more valuable and, worst case, could go be a consultant or advisor for retailers or big wig company heads. As it is, the only reason I have any clout to my name at all is due to my internship - it paved over all the potholes in the road I was on and has been very favorable, but not everyone is as fortunate as I have been and this is not an easy path to undertake and forge into a career with any real sense of stability or security. Freelance stylists have a completely different struggle despite the majority coming from similar backgrounds as myself. 

Now, onto the daily scope and specs of wardrobe styling ~

Please take into consideration that I am an admitted workaholic/perfectionist/overachiever within the boundaries of my work. I’m quite lazy in almost every other sense of living and make existing seem like a wreck and I’m the one driving the struggle-bus that caused it, but for the job I have I am a supremely different breed (though still a lunatic). So yeah, I do a lot more than most would in my position and it is actually something that my company head both loves and hates and is rumored to be writing a clause for all employees regarding allowable working methodology due to the sheer amount of paperwork I alone generate. I am the hazard of our company, but I am also an asset. 

Anyway, I start most of my days with a lot of reading through emails that range from client comments and commands to vendors looking to use my company or clientele to bolster their credibility, to brands extending offers of product usage for marketing and campaigning reasons, and a variety of back and forths between me and the PAs or clerks of photographers, other studios, and fashion houses. Next comes hours of phone calls and reviewing schedules to ensure there is no intersections between client-oriented event slots. For one photoshoot I typically spend 3-4 weeks on the semantics of lighting quality and set features and then the rest of the time is dedicated to wardrobe and piecing out however many styles are called for, and then usually adding in at least 2 extras just for good measure. There's so many meetings my butt goes numb and touching base with the other members of my glam teams to reaffirm that we are all working on tandem and on the same page as far as vision goes. I sometimes have a turn in taking care of a new trainee or intern that is wandering our workplace like a fawn on clumsy legs and have questionable instincts.

When it comes to pulling apparel to make up sets, I have been known to be in the rack rooms and show rooms and fashion archives for over 7 hours a day. Our archivists know me as personally as I know my assistants and friends from how often I am in there territory and have to rely on their hardwork and favor. I spend days doing this until I have what I need and then dedicate every bit of my attention designing and creating looks which is another 5+ hours of one day, over the course of many. I have had days where I have been at work for 16 or 17 hours before I realize it, which is why I am such a thorn in my boss’ ass and often told to take a day off or get sent home midway through the morning - my hours alone could have business bureaus raising their eyebrows at the legality of my working hours. (This is cranked to max when shows and events are in the schedule; Awards Season is a nightmare and tours are the bastard offspring of Hell actually. The amount of hours put in are truly horrific). 

Also worth mentioning for the sake of perspective is that my job is as expansive as my clients allow; if they request me for one of their various activities in the public eye or in media, if available, I am obligated to prioritize their needs above the projects that my company has assigned to me as per our contract and am expected to either find a replacement or delegate to my assistant and apprentice when possible. The opposite is also true: if my clients have a light workload or are on break from their careers, I am typically doing the busy work of in-studio tasks or tracking rising trends and other features of the fashion forecast. I also host a multitude of temporary contracts with all manner of clientele from brand ambassadors to photographers to celebrities to commercial shoots & services. These jobs come upon official requests made through the company and then negotiated into the terms of how short the working schedule will be, what work I will be undertaking, and an assessment of skills vs revenue to maintain a balance of my time as a professional being properly valued within the sad decline of styling budgets before it will be officially taken on in my name. For these I tend to make better use of my status and hand off most of the project unless I am specifically needed. I make appearances as necessary but am mostly an advisor rather than the producer, instead focusing on my exclusive clients all while staying keyed in so that the work isn't below standard. This is all a badly kept secret of my company and myself - the clients do typically know and accept this is how I handle things in general and are aware that they are paying for an absent role of by way of my name/credentials unless they specify otherwise. There have been times when a side job like this has more prestige than all the years of my experiences combined could generate which ostensibly is treated with much more care and most of my other work pauses in deference to this. 

Being a stylist, especially a wardrobe AND fashion stylist, is just so much I don't think I could fully capture the scale of it for a proper index of what we do. 

In short, I don't have routine days. I have days that are at the beck and call of a workload that changes at the drop of a pin or the half digit uptick that dictates the emergence of a new trend or the downwind of when a trend skews into becoming mainstream. I can be paced out and looking at a light day at my desk and suddenly be crammed into a pitch meeting or called out to a set. I've also spent many days lounging on the sofa in a client's dressing room playing on my phone and cracking jokes with the glam team as we wait for our client to return between performance takes. And then there are days when I only go into work for our weekly meeting and review before heading back home. It's constant and consuming and sometimes I can't catch my breath before I'm shoved into the show room under a daunting time crunch because an entire ensemble has been misplaced or ruined. Just a matter of days before I was felled by COVID-19 I was having a nap during a photoshoot which I had already fulfilled my purpose and had no further need to participate in.

The reality is that I spend the majority of my time carving out a balance of my work life not superseding my time dedicated to being with my son and making sure he knows no matter what, he is above my hectic career always.

[96harmony96]

Chapter 5

I had a vicious hangover on Saturday morning and figured it was no less than I deserved. As much as I’d resented Lauren’s insistence on negotiating sex with as much passion as she would a merger, in the end I’d negotiated in kind. Because I wanted her enough to take a calculated risk and break my own rules.

I took comfort in knowing she was breaking some of her own, too.

After a long, hot shower, I made my way into the living room and found Cary on the couch with his netbook, looking fresh and alert. Smelling coffee in the kitchen, I headed there and filled the biggest mug I could find.

“Morning, sunshine,” Cary called out.

With my much-needed dose of caffeine wrapped between both palms, I joined him on the couch.

He pointed at a box on the end table. “That came for you while you were in the shower.”

I set my mug on the coffee table and picked up the box. It was wrapped with brown paper and twine, and had my name handwritten diagonally across the top with a decorative calligraphic flourish. Inside was an amber glass bottle with Hangover Cure painted on it in a white old-fashioned font and a note tied with raffia to the bottle’s neck that said, “Drink me.” Lauren’s business card was nestled in the cushioning tissue paper.

As I studied the gift, I found it very apt. Since meeting Lauren I’d felt like I’d fallen down the rabbit hole into a fascinating and seductive world where few of the known rules applied. I was in uncharted territory that was both exciting and scary.

I glanced at Cary, who eyed the bottle dubiously.

“Cheers.” I pried the cork out and drank the contents without thinking twice about it. It tasted like sickly sweet cough syrup. My stomach quivered in distaste for a moment, and then heated. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and shoved the cork back into the empty bottle.

“What was that?” Cary asked.

“From the burn, it’s hair of the dog.”

His nose wrinkled. “Effective but unpleasant.”

And it was working. I already felt a little steadier.

Cary picked up the box and dug out Lauren’s card. He flipped it over; then held it out to me. On the back Lauren had written, “Call me” in bold slashing penmanship and jotted down a number.

I took the card, curling my hand around it. Her gift was proof that she was thinking about me. Her tenacity and focus was seductive. And flattering.

There was no denying I was in trouble where Lauren was concerned. I craved the way I felt when she touched me, and I loved the way she responded when I touched her back. When I tried to think of what I wouldn’t agree to do to have her hands on me again, I couldn’t come up with much.

When Cary tried to hand me the phone, I shook my head. “Not yet. I need a clear head when dealing with her and I’m still fuzzy.”

“You two seemed cozy last night. She’s definitely into you.”

“I’m definitely into her.” Curling into the corner of the couch, I pressed my cheek into the cushion and hugged my legs to my chest. “We’re going to hang out, get to know each other, have casual-but-physically-intense sex, and be otherwise completely independent. No strings, no expectations, no responsibilities.”

Cary hit a button on his netbook and the printer on the other side of the room started spitting out pages. Then he snapped the computer closed, set it on the coffee table, and gave me all his attention. “Maybe it’ll turn into something serious.”

“Maybe not,” I scoffed.

“Cynic.”

“I’m not looking for happily-ever-after, Cary, especially not with a mega-mogul like Jauregui. I’ve seen what it’s like for my mom being connected to powerful men. It’s a full-time job with a part-time companion. Money keeps Mom happy, but it wouldn’t be enough for me.”

My dad had loved my mom. He’d asked her to marry him and share his life. She’d turned him down because he didn’t have the hefty portfolio and sizeable bank account she required in a husband. Love wasn’t a requisite for marriage in Sinuhe Stanton’s opinion and since her sultry-eyed, breathy-voiced beauty was irresistible to most men, she’d never had to settle for less than whatever she wanted. Unfortunately she hadn’t wanted my dad for the long haul.

Glancing at the clock, I saw it was ten thirty. “I guess I should get ready.”

“I love spa day with your mom.” Cary smiled and it chased the lingering shadows on my mood away. “I feel like a god when we’re done.”

“Me, too. Of the goddess persuasion.”

We were so eager to be off that we went downstairs to meet the car rather than wait for the front desk to call up.

The doorman smiled as we stepped outside—me in heeled sandals and a maxi dress, and Cary in hip-hugging jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

“Good morning, Miss Cabello. Mr. Taylor. Will you need a cab today?”

“No thanks, Paul. We’re expecting a car.” Cary grinned. “It’s spa day at Perrini’s!”

“Ah, Perrini’s Day Spa.” Paul gave a sage nod. “I bought my wife a gift certificate for our anniversary. She enjoyed it so much I plan to make it a tradition.”

“You did good, Paul,” I said. “Pampering a woman never goes out of style.”

A black town car pulled up with Clancy at the wheel. Paul opened the rear door for us and we climbed in, squealing when we found a box of Knipschildt’s Chocopologie on the seat. Waving at Paul, we settled back and dug in, taking tiny nibbles of the truffles that were worth savoring slowly.

Clancy drove us straight to Perrini’s, where the relaxation began from the moment one walked in the door. Crossing the entrance threshold was like taking a vacation on the far side of the world. Every arched doorway was framed by lushly vibrant striped silks, while jeweled pillows decorated elegant chaises and oversized armchairs.

Birds chirped from suspended gilded cages and potted plants filled every corner with lush fronds. Small decorative fountains added the sounds of running water, while stringed instrumental music was piped into the room via cleverly hidden speakers. The air was redolent with a mix of exotic spices and fragrances, making me feel like I’d stepped into Arabian Nights.

It was this-close to being too much, but it didn’t cross the line. Instead, Perrini’s was exotic and luxurious, an indulgent treat for those who could afford it. Like my mother, who’d just finished a milk-and-honey bath when we arrived.

I studied the menu of treatments available, deciding to skip my usual “warrior woman” in favor of the “passionate pampering.” I’d been waxed the week before, but the rest of the treatment—“designed to make you sexually irresistible”—sounded like exactly what I needed.

I’d finally managed to get my mind back into the safe zone of work when Cary spoke up from the pedicure chair beside mine.

“Mrs. Stanton, have you met Lauren Jauregui?”

I gaped at him. He knew damn well my mom went nuts over any news about my romantic—and not-so-romantic, as the case may be—relationships.

My mother, who sat in the chair on the other side of me, leaned forward with her usual girlish excitement over a rich, handsome man. “Of course. She’s one of the wealthiest women in the world. Number twenty-five or so on Forbes’s list, if I’m remembering correctly. A very driven young woman, obviously, and a generous benefactor to many of the children’s charities I champion. Extremely eligible, of course, but I don’t believe she's straight , Cary. She’s got a reputation as a ladies’ pleaser.”

“My loss.” Cary grinned and ignored my violent headshaking. “But it’d be a hopeless crush anyway, since she’s digging on Camila.”

“Camila! I can’t believe you didn’t say anything. How could you not tell me something like that?”

I looked at my mom, whose scrubbed face appeared young, unlined, and very much like mine. I was very clearly my mother’s daughter, right down to my surname. The one concession she’d made to my father had been to name me after his mother.

“There’s nothing to tell,” I insisted. “We’re just…friends.”

“We can do better than that,” Sinuhe said, with a look of calculation that struck fear in my heart. “I don’t know how it escaped me that you work in the same building she does. I’m certain she was smitten the moment she saw you. Although she’s known to prefer blondes…Hmm…Anyway. sHe’s also known for her excellent taste. Clearly the latter won out with you.”

“It’s not like that. Please don’t start meddling. You’ll embarrass me.”

“Nonsense. If anyone knows what to do with men, it’s me.”

I cringed, my shoulders creeping up to my ears. By the time my massage appointment came around, I was in desperate need of one. I stretched out on the table and closed my eyes, preparing to take a catnap to get through the long night ahead.

I loved dressing up and looking pretty as much as the next girl, but charity functions were a lot of work. Making small talk was exhausting, smiling nonstop was a pain, and conversations about businesses and people I didn’t know were boring. If it wasn’t for Cary benefitting from the exposure, I’d put up a bigger fight about going.

I sighed. Who was I fooling? I’d end up going anyway. My mom and Stanton supported abused children’s charities because they were significant to me. Going to the occasional stuffy event was a small price to pay for the return.

Taking a deep breath, I consciously relaxed. I made a mental note to call my dad when I got home and thought about how to send a thank-you note to Lauren for the hangover cure. I supposed I could e-mail her using the contact info on her business card, but that lacked class. Besides, I didn’t know who read her inbox.

I’d just call her when I got home. Why not? She’d asked—no, told—me to; she’d written the demand on her business card. And I’d get to hear her luscious voice again.

The door opened and the masseuse came in. “Hello, Camila. You ready?”

Not quite. But I was getting there.

___

After many lovely hours at the spa, my mom and Cary dropped me off at the apartment; then they headed out to hunt for new cuff links for Stanton. I used the time alone to call Lauren. Even with the much-needed privacy, I punched most of her phone number into the keypad a half-dozen times before I finally put the call through.

She answered on the first ring. “Camila.”

W that she’d known who was calling, my mind scrambled for a moment. How did she have my name and number in her contact list? “Uh…hi, Lauren.”

“I’m a block away. Let the front desk know I’m coming.”

“What?” I felt like I’d missed part of the conversation. “Coming where?”

“To your place. I’m rounding the corner now. Call the desk, Camila.”

she hung up and I stared at the phone, trying to absorb the fact that Lauren was moments away from being with me again. Somewhat dazed, I went to the intercom and talked to the front desk, letting them know I was expecting her and while I was talking, she walked into the lobby. A few moments after that, she was at my door.

It was then that I remembered I was dressed in only a thigh-length silk robe, and my face and hair were styled for the dinner. What kind of impression would she get from my appearance?

I tightened the belt of my robe before I let her in. It wasn’t like I’d invited her over for a seduction or anything.

Lauren stood in the hallway for a long moment, her gaze raking me from my head down to my French manicured toes. I was equally stunned by her appearance. The way she looked in worn jeans and a T-shirt made me want to undress her with my teeth.

“Worth the trip to find you like this, Camila.” sHe stepped inside and locked the door behind her. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Thanks to you. Thank you.” My stomach quivered because she was here, with me, which made me feel almost…giddy. “That can’t be why you came over.”

“I’m here because it took you too long to call me.”

“I didn’t realize I had a deadline.”

“I have to ask you something time-sensitive, but more than that, I wanted to know if you were feeling all right after last night.” Her eyes were dark as they swept over me, her breathtaking face framed by that luxurious curtain of inky hair. “God. You look beautiful, Camila. I can’t remember ever wanting anything this much.”

With just those few simple words I became hot and needy. Way too vulnerable. “What’s so urgent?”

“Go with me to the advocacy center dinner tonight.”

I pulled back, surprised and excited by the request. “You’re going?”

“So are you. I checked, knowing your mother would be there. Let’s go together.”

My hand went to my throat, my mind torn between the weirdness of how much she knew about me and concern over what she was asking me to do. “That’s not what I meant when I said we should spend time together.”

“Why not?” The simple question was laced with challenge. “What’s the problem with going together to an event we’d already planned on attending separately?”

“It’s not very discreet. It’s a high-profile event.”

“So?” Lauren stepped closer and fingered a curl of my hair.

There was a dangerous purr to her voice that sent a shiver through me. I could feel the warmth of her big, hard body and smell the richly musky scent of her skin. I was falling under her spell, deeper with every minute that passed.

“People will make assumptions, my mother in particular. She’s already scenting your bachelor blood in the water.”

Lowering her head, Lauren pressed her lips into the crook of my neck. “I don’t care what people think. We know what we’re doing. And I’ll deal with your mother.”

“If you think you can,” I said breathlessly, “you don’t know her very well.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven.” Her tongue traced the wildly throbbing vein in my throat and I melted into her, my body going lax as she pulled me close.

Still, I managed to say, “I haven’t said yes.”

“But you won’t say no.” sHe caught my earlobe between her teeth. “I won’t let you.”

I opened my mouth to protest and she sealed her lips over mine, shutting me up with a lush wet kiss. Her tongue did that slow, savoring licking that made me long to feel her doing the same between my legs. My hands went to her hair, sliding through it, tugging. When she wrapped her arms around me, I arched, curving into her hands.

Just as she had in her office, she had me on my back on the couch before I realized she was moving me, her mouth swallowing my surprised gasp. The robe gave way to her dexterous fingers; then she was cupping my breasts, kneading them with soft, rhythmic squeezes.

“Lauren—”

“Shh.” sHe sucked on my lower lip, her fingers rolling and tugging my tender nipples. “It was driving me crazy knowing you were naked beneath your robe.”

“You came over without—Oh! Oh, God…”

Her mouth surrounded the tip of my breast, the wash of heat bringing a mist of perspiration to my skin.

My gaze darted frantically to the clock on the cable box. “Lauren, no.”

Her head lifted and she looked at me with stormy green eyes. “It’s insane, I know. I don’t—I can’t explain it, Camila, but I have to make you come. I’ve been thinking about it constantly for days now.”

One of her hands pushed between my legs. They fell open shamelessly, my body so aroused I was flushed and almost feverish. Her other hand continued to plump my breasts, making them heavy and unbearably sensitive.

“You’re wet for me,” she murmured, her gaze sliding down my body to where she was parting me with her fingers. “You’re beautiful here, too. Plush and pink. So soft. You didn’t wax today, did you?”

I shook my head.

“Thank God. I don’t think I would’ve made it ten minutes without touching you, let alone ten hours.” She slid one finger carefully into me.

My eyes closed against the unbearable vulnerability of being spread out naked and fingered by a woman whose familiarity with the rules of Brazilian waxing betrayed an intimate knowledge of women. A woman who was still fully clothed and kneeling on the floor beside me.

“You’re so snug.” Lauren pulled out and thrust gently back into me. My back bowed as I clenched eagerly around her. “And so greedy. How long has it been since the last time you were fucked?”

I swallowed hard. “I’ve been busy. My thesis, job-hunting, moving…”

“A while, then.” sHe pulled out and pushed back into me with two fingers. I couldn’t hold back a moan of delight. The woman had talented hands, confident and skilled, and she took what he wanted with them.

“Are you on birth control, Camila?”

“Yes.” My hands gripped the edges of the cushions. “Of course.”

“I’ll prove I’m clean and you’ll do the same, then you’re going to let me come in you.”

“Jesus, Lauren.” I was panting for her, my hips circling shamelessly onto her thrusting fingers. I felt like I’d spontaneously combust if she didn’t get me off.

I’d never been so turned on in my life. I was near mindless with the need for an orgasm. If Cary walked in right then and found me writhing in our living room while Lauren finger-fucked me, I didn’t think I’d care.

Lauren was breathing hard, too. Her face was flushed with lust. For me. When I’d done nothing more than respond helplessly to her.

Her hand at my breast moved to my cheek and brushed over it. “You’re blushing. I’ve scandalized you.”

“Yes.”

Her smile was both wicked and delighted, and it made my chest tight. “I want to feel my cum in you when I fuck you with my fingers. I want you to feel my cum in you, so you think about how I looked and the sounds I made when I pumped it into you. And while you’re thinking about that, you’re going to look forward to me doing it again and again.”

My sex rippled around her stroking fingers, the rawness of her words pushing me to the brink of orgasm.

“I’m going to tell you all the ways I want you to please me, Camila, and you’re going to do it all…take it all, and we’re going to have explosive, primal, no-holds-barred sex. You know that, don’t you? You can feel how it’ll be between us.”

“Yes,” I breathed, clutching my breasts to ease the deep ache of my hardened nipples. “Please, Lauren.”

“Shh…I’ve got you.” The pad of her thumb rubbed my clitoris in gentle circles. “Look into my eyes when you come for me.”

Everything tightened in my core, the tension building as she massaged my clit and pushed her fingers in and out in a steady, unhurried rhythm.

“Give it up to me, Camila,” she ordered. “Now.”

I climaxed with a thready cry, my grip white-knuckled on the sides of the cushions as my hips pumped onto her hand, my mind far beyond shame or shyness. My gaze was locked to her, unable to look away, riveted by the fierce masculine triumph that flared in her eyes. In that moment she owned me. I’d do anything she wanted. And she knew it.

Searing pleasure pulsed through me. Through the roaring of blood in my ears, I thought I heard her speak hoarsely, but I lost the words when she hooked one of my legs over the back of the couch and covered my cleft with her mouth.

“No—” I pushed at her head with my hands. “I can’t.”

I was too swollen, too sensitive. But when her tongue touched my clit, fluttering over it, the hunger built again. More intense than the first time. she rimmed my trembling slit, teasing me, taunting me with the promise of another orgasm when I knew I couldn’t have one again so quickly.

Then her tongue speared into me and I bit my lip to bite back a scream. I came a second time, my body quaking violently, tender muscles tightening desperately around her decadent licking. Her growl vibrated through me. I didn’t have the strength to push her away when she returned to my clit and sucked softly…tirelessly…until I climaxed again, gasping her name.

I was boneless as she straightened my leg and still breathless when she pressed kisses up my belly to my breasts. she licked each of my nipples, and then hauled me up with her arms banded around my back. I hung lax and pliable in her grip while she took my mouth with suppressed violence, bruising my lips and betraying how close to the edge she was.

she closed my robe; then stood, staring down at me.

“Lauren…?”

“Seven o’clock, Camila.” sHe reached down and touched my ankle, her fingertips caressing the diamond anklet I’d put on in preparation for the evening. “And keep this on. I want to fuck you while you’re wearing nothing else.”

[tuntematonkorppi]

now all the even ones >:D

EVIL AGAIN: uNCOnSTitu!TIONAL

2. You talked to an ex today, correct?

nope

4. Is trust a big issue for you?

yes

6. What are you excited for?

my sister spending next week at my place, getting a new tattoo on october 2nd, the project i worked on being made public on october1st

8. Do you think it’s disgusting when girls get really wasted?

i think it's stupid and that everyone should learn to drink responsibly but i don't find it disgusting

10. What is the last beverage you had?

coffee

12. Do you own a pair of skinny jeans?

four actually

14. What are you going to spend money on next?

right now? food and cat litter. glamorous, i know

16. Do you think you’ll change in the next 3 months?

i hope so. i need to.

18. The last time you felt broken?

last night

20. Are you starting to realize anything?

more like a shitton of things, both personal and professional and it's slightly terrifying

22. Would you ever want to swim with sharks?

yes

24. What do you want right this second?

well. i want to finish a fic. i want to be done with this freelance gig. i want to eat chinese food. i want to be in an actual real relationship with a certain someone

26. Is your current hair color your natural hair color?

nope but i'm currently in the process of bleeding the dye out of my hair to get back to natural.

28. What was the last thing that made you laugh?

i had a first responder certification training today and the teacher was fucking hilarious

30. Does everyone deserve a second chance?

no

32. Does the person you have feelings for right now, know you do?

uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh

34. Listening to?

resolve

36. Do you know where the last person you kissed is?

nope and i don't care

38. Who did you last call?

some admin office

40. Why did you kiss the last person you kissed?

i was trying to end a disastrous date early and he kissed me almost by surprise

42. Did you hug/kiss one of your parents today?

i like 600km away from them and even when i'm in the same room as them i don't do that

44. Do you tan in the nude?

it happened when i was in finland. but not usually no

46. Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night?

nope

48. Do you sing in the shower?

nope

50. Ever used a bow and arrow?

yep

52. Do you think musicals are cheesy?

yes and i don't like them

54. Ever eat a pierogi?

yep

56. Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?

fashion designer or artist

58. Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?

literally all the time

60. Wear slippers?

nope

62. What do you wear to bed?

oversized tshirt and men's boxers

64. Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart?

i live in france we don't have those

66. Cheetos Or Fritos?

i don't care enough to know the difference

68. Favorite Taylor Swift song?

i hate her music

70. Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing?

...for fuck's sake. tattoo artist.

72. Ever won a spelling bee?

we don't have those here

74. What is your favorite book?

after dark by haruki murakami, the likeness by tana french or american gods by neil gaiman

76. Regularly burn incense?

used to, not as much now

78. Who would you like to see in concert?

resolve, comeback kid, rise against, moscow death brigade

90. Opinions on sex before marriage?

do whatever you want but don't force your opinions on anyone else

92. Do you want to get married

i used to say hell no to this. now i don't know. but if i do get married, it won't be a giant ceremony that costs a shitton of money with people i don't care about. it would be something small, with just our friends and the few members of my family i actually like