#THEY ARE NOT EVEN BEING SUBTLE ABOUT ITTT HELP ME

[aromanticasterisms]

feeling so fucking normal about kaeya's hangout. btw

[shoehorseconstant]

i started studyig french in uni bc i just wanted to pick a foreign language bc i love foreign lagnuages and i'm already sort of intermediate in french so i wanted to see if i could get GOOD

only one of my classes is actually useful and interesting. it focuses on translating btwn english and french and the grammar differences that arise when you do that and i feel like it's exactly what i wanted. it points out all the subtle grammatical differences that take you from an okay speaker to a better speaker and i love ittt!!!

but the other classes are kinda useless. they're just about writing essays and stuff in french but i don't even speak french at that level yet so how are you expecting me to write essays in this language i barely even speak. i'm trying to study french in schoool so i can get good at it but i feel like i'm gaining nothing from these...

i really want to learn how to SPEAK and actually get to a point where i could use this language in my daily life if i needed to, so this focus on reading and writing isn't really helping me...

but also, i can't stop thinking about the fact that there are people who speak multiple languages without ever formally studying them in school... like what do you mean i'm putting my literal degree towards this thing that other people know intuitively at the age of 4

and i'm still worse than a 4 year old!!! these classes aren't helping me

and i know a lot fo times the point of a degree is to give you "specialized" knowlwedge about something, and being proficient in a langauge isn't exactly "specialized" knowledge, so that's why they need me to write essays, cultjural analyses, linguistics, literature, blah, blah, blah but it just all feels so useless!!! if i wanted to do a literature degree i would've done a degree in... literature!

so i can't help but wonder if everything i'm doing is useless. i do this degree to attain the skills that many 4 year olds across the world intuitively know, and the classes aren't even helping me attain this goal. what's the point

[sstardusty]

SOFIWA SUNDAY AWWH!!!! what did y’all do for your first date??

HI KAYLA!!!!! I’m assuming you mean for cannon! Hajime x IRL! Sofie so I’m gonna roll with that💗

☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎

Both of the volleyball teams’ practices had just ended and I was walking towards the front of the school to wait for Mattsun and Makki. I would’ve walked with all of the 3rd year but I was avoiding both Hajime and Oikawa at the moment.

Oikawa, because he had let it slip that I was completely in love with Hajime,, my best friend since the 3rd grade,, and Hajime because I was scared of what he was going to say if we do talk.

I made it to the gate but neither Mattsun, nor Makki were there waiting for me, nobody was even there— except for my dearest best friend, Iwaizumi Hajime.

I froze in my spot, “uhm hi.”

“Hey,” he spoke in the most gentle voice, like if he were to talk any harsher I would break down in front of him and start crying.

Despite his attempt to not make me upset, tears still start welling up in my eyes, “Look I’m sorry! I understand if you don’t feel the same—“

“Do you wanna go out to dinner with me?”, he cut me off.

“way? Wait-what? I-I-I don’t underst—“

“Like a date. And not one of thoes stupid friendly ones we go on- like a real date,” he firmly stated, cutting me off yet again.

“Uhh-I- yes please, I would really like that.” I utter out in shock.

He wraps me in a big hug. We’ve hugged so many times in the past, but this one was different. It was reassuring and filled with all the feelings we’ve both kept hidden for so long.

“As much as I’m enjoying this hug, that restaurant you love closes in an hour and I really wanna have this dinner date with you so we should probably get going,” he says in that soft tone again that makes me nearly melt into a puddle of flustered mess.

“Oh! hehe yea that would suck hehe,” I mumble awkwardly, my face a literal tomato.

About 2/3 through the walk I feel something brush against my hand.

‘Oml is he about to hold my hand— I will literally perish’

He wraps his pinky finger around mine and looks down into my eyes, “is this okay?”

“It’s perfect,” I respond quickly, still blushing a fire truck red.

We make it to the restaurant and find a table, sitting across from each other. We just look into each others eyes for a while, savoring this moment.

“Hey so you wanna talk about how red you face was,, and stil is?” He teases with a subtle smirk on his face.

“shut up I’m not blushing,” I mumble out denying the fact that I’m the brightest red I could be right now.

“Sure you aren’t,” he holds back a laugh, “I’m sorry but with your face red and your freckles,, you look like a strawberry,” he laughs out, poking my face.

“Hey stoppp ittt” I laugh along with him.

We laugh together, the air around us filled with a lighthearted feel.

“Hi there! I’ll be your waiter today, what can I get you started with?”

We order our food and continue to chat as we wait, it’s almost as if nothing had changed,, still two childhood friends having dinner together after volleyball practice. But it was so much more to each of us because we were spending time together and for once we didn’t have to hide any feeling we had. It didn’t physically change or verbally change, and we both knew that but we could both feel the heavy weight being lifted off our shoulders and the night progressed.

After we ate our food and paid the bill, Hajime suggested that we go to the park in my neighborhood before dropping me off at home.

“Hey Hajime?” I ask, sitting on the swing next to him.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you, I had a lot of fun”

“I’m glad,” he sighs softly “ya know I have had the biggest crush on you since the 7th grade,” he admits.

I quickly look towards him, “ You’re kidding right!?”

“No. Why? How long have you?”

“Summer before 8th grade. Remember, we went to the beach together?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you cut your foot open on a seashell that trip?”

“ mhm and even after I told you I was fine and it didn’t even hurt, you still helped me. That was it for me.”

They’re was a comforting silence between us as we sat on the swing set and looked up at the stars.

“Hey sofie?”

“Hmm?”

“I- uhm- I should probably take you home, it’s getting late,” he stuttered like he was going to say something else but cut himself off.

“Oh yeah heh it is pretty late”

The walk to my house was silent, our hands holding one another swinging between us.

“This is my stop I guess- uhm thank you, I had an amazing time and I would like to do this again,” I walked up to my front door.

“Ah yeah I had fun too, we should do it again sometime.”

“Okay.. well goodnight Hajime, I’ll see you in the morning.” I turn around and start unlocking the door

“Sofie wait!”

I turn back around, “what—“

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

“I- ah- yeah, I’d love to,” I respond, pulling him into a hug.

I pull out of the warm hug, “ under one condition.”

“What is it?” He asks in complete confusion

“You have to be my boyfriend”

He laughs, “ goodnight idiot”

“Goodnight idiot”

☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎*☁︎︎

Yikes uhm I got really carried away there sorry 😬

It’s like confession, first date, and making it official all in one!

Long story short we went to dinner then to a park for our first date 😂

𝘚𝘖𝘍𝘐𝘞𝘈 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛- @kuronekomama @anianimol @kamitaxey

[aalissy]

Satisfied

Day 15 of Lukanette February is done hehe! I hope you’ve all been enjoying this lovely, fluffy month! Sorry this chapter is sort of short... I wasn’t certain what to write for this prompt :P. Regardless, I hope you like ittt!! Lemme know what you think :D :D

AO3

“So, are you satisfied?” Luka brushed a kiss against her cheek as he snuggled up to her. They were lazily drifting down the Saint-Martin Canal, a blanket comforting her from the cool, nighttime breeze. She shivered slightly, leaning more into Luka as the breeze picked up.

“What do you mean, ‘am I satisfied?’” Marinette mocked, an eyebrow raising up curiously.

He looked at her with a subtle put, his eyes flickering with mischief in the moonlight, “Marinette,” Luka whined, “This is our first date! I want to make certain it’s good enough.”

She giggled with a shy smile, “Of course I’m satisfied! I always am whenever I’m with you,” she bumped her shoulder lightly against his.

Marinette watched in satisfaction as redness spread across Luka’s face. He then threw an arm around her shoulder, placing a gentle kiss on top of her forehead, “Good, because I feel the same way, you know.”

“Well I would hope so,” she chuckled, watching the lights from the nearby buildings twinkle as they drifted past them. Her head leaned against his shoulder before she was overcome by a small yawn, “This is my favorite part about Paris.”

“What?” he whispered down at her.

“Just this,” she gestured all around them, “The quiet and stillness of the night. Bright lights everywhere and no supervillains to disturb us. Everything seems worth it during nights like these,” Marinette nodded drowsily, feeling her eyelids slowly grow heavy as the boat’s gentle rocking began to put her to sleep.

“Well this is my favorite part about Paris.”

She hummed, turning her face to blink up at him. The designer blushed prettily when she noticed him staring at her with a look of awe growing on his face. A small smile twitched at her lips as she chewed her lower lip nervously, “What is?”

“You, falling asleep in my arms,” Luka beamed down at her.

“Oh my god, no,” her flush turned a shade darker before she was burying her face in his shoulder, “I’m not going to be falling asleep in your arms if you keep that up!”

“Is that so?” he chuckled, tapping his chin contemplatively, “You wouldn’t fall asleep even if I sang you a lullaby.”

Marinette lifted her head back up lazily to roll her eyes at the musician, “Luka, you should not be trying to get your date to fall asleep!”

“But you’re so adorable when you’re sleeping. I can’t help it,” he tapped the tip of her nose with his finger twice. He snickered quietly at her scowl as she batted his hand away.

“I won’t be too adorable in a few seconds if you keep poking me like that!”

Luka merely shrugged, snuggling her more securely into his side, “Somehow, I doubt that.”

“You’re insufferable,” Marinette shook her head fondly before another loud yawn escaped her.

“It’s alright, you know, Mari,” he looked down at her with his shimmering blue eyes, “You can fall asleep. I’ll be here when you wake up. And if you’re needed I promise that I will wake you.”

She shook her head, her lips twisting to the side even as her eyelids began fluttering, “I can’t just fall asleep now. How will you know I’m ‘satisfied’ if I’m sleeping?” Marinette mimicked his voice, suspicion entering her tone.

“Quit being stubborn,” Luka pouted at her, “Can’t you tell I just want you to have a good night’s sleep? I’ve seen how tired you’ve been lately. New fashion project?”

She nodded sleepily, eyeing his shoulder. I am really tired. These last few akuma attacks have all been after midnight. And Luka’s shoulder looks so inviting, her mind beckoned her. With one last loud yawn, she allowed her eyelids to fully close, nestling further onto the boy’s shoulder, “J-just five minutes, and then... then wake me up, okay?”

“Okay, Marinette, sweet dreams,” he brushed one last soft kiss across her forehead as she slowly drifted off into a long, peaceful sleep.

[tedfashionski]

Seeing Red

I was drawing today and reminded somehow of that depressing development where the sister of David & Samantha Cameron has been appointed editor of the Evening Standard. Like, I’m looking past the implied wider corruption problems in ‘real’ journalism here, but one point she said in her announcement interview really bothered me. She said, something to the effect of ‘Oh, thank god I spent 20 years working at Vogue while David was in politics, because I am just so fond of him and I would hate to have to be critical of him. So I was safe at Vogue.’

That, right there, sums up how far fashion media is from even being able to recognise the functional role of journalism. Oh, thankfully, at Vogue we can hide from criticality and awareness of the political dimensions of the world. All the while, the fashion industry is feeding this planet-killing spirit-crushing capitalist consumerism. But, no, why would it be political? Stop making it political. It’s just clothes.

 K, I’m going to RANT a little about these digital fashion weeks we’ve just been subjected to. I’ll preface by saying, yeah, I get it, it’s hard to be creative in the thick of a pandemic. My standards have been accordingly lowered 20%. I am very generous.

 Chanel and Dior’s lack of energy was no surprise. Although, keeping in mind female designers tend to be more pragmatic as a matter of course, it’s sad the two top women are being so listless. I was pleasantly surprised by Azzaro – it gave a hint of a vibe but was sure of itself. It emphasised that there was no reason for the Chanel & Dior videos & collections to exist, no point of view. The smaller couture players like the Dutch trinity of Ronald van der Kemp, Iris van Herpen, and Viktor & Rolf were a little more canny, you got the impression they were enjoying themselves at the very least.

 Regarding men’s, I do think Rick Owens was actually well judged in its boringness – we don’t need product-based experimentation necessarily. I enjoyed the meta-narrative aspect, it seems to me a good time for that kind of subtle, slightly snide interplay of references. Yohji’s design’s really sang, the video could have worked harder, it felt thrown together and didn’t do the clothes justice. (Side note, that showstudio Yohji review video, 45 mins of failing to say anything, was what finally pushed me over the edge. Dude. Are you guys for real? ‘Where is the avant garde’? If you don’t know, give up already. I’m not even a Yohji fanbear but he deserves better.) Kiko gave us a real stab at a pscho-medieval vibe, and I would’ve written a full review about it cus there’s stuff going on there. But fuck that. If he doesn’t want to talk to us, and show his full vision to the public in a spirit of optimism and faith in the culture, why should I bother with him? Mean and snooty gatekeeping gets mean and snotty graffiti right back.

 Fashion culture (twitter, specifically) wants to be wowed by everything all the time. Then, it complains and says why is fashion week even happening during a pandemic, now isn’t the time for fashion. Another example of our schizo cognitive dissonance as we consume this shit. What do we even want?

 I’ll tell you what I want. I want fashion designers to be engaged in a collective speculative in-depth discussion of what the future feels like right now, as an artform. So, I’m not going to analyse anything as a commercial proposition, because the future features less and less buying shit. In part as I believe that with growing internet dispersal of OG systems, awareness will rise, the vocabulary will expand, and we’ll stop caring so much about the performative aspects of fashion clothing. The interiority aspect will only grow, and that means unique-feeling experiences that are like conversing with a familiar presence. The fashion designer as moot, a parasocial meta-commentator. A friend you don’t actually have to talk to, just talk with, in the culture. That process won’t start from a point of ‘buy my shit’. First, a relationship should be built up, set up and running along. Then, if product occurs it’s incidental. Wow, I’m being a real little weatherbear. Check out my prophecies!

 So, I’m pretty disappointed and depressed about the resentful undertone of much of the work presented to us. Like, they’re crossing their arms and getting all grumpy about how they’re not allowed to carry on like they always do. FFS, you’re FASHION PEOPLE. Change is the name of the game, this shit should excite you. It’s your job to guide each other in an open-ended perusal of future possibilities, and to make recommendations. It’s not just clothes, they’re the medium, the language in which you build the commentary. If all you care about is nice product (*cough*, hedi slimane, *cough* jacquemus), stop calling yourself a fashion designer, because you’re a clothing manufacturer and I don’t care about you.

 Why are all these videos so boring? Have any of these people heard of editing, rhythm? They do realise you can hire people for this kind of thing, right? The deadening lack of imagination amongst people whose full-time job it is to be creative about the present’s transition into the future is astounding. This really underlines the risks of nepotism and gatekeeping. The only people who can afford to participate are the gutless products of a bloated upper middle class. I don’t believe in that class’s creative capacities for one fucking minute. They’ve got nothing at stake, no guts to go against anything, because their boring shitty system works for them, so why should it change? Ugh, vom.

Where is the communicative power? Nothing is being said, it’s filler for an elite determined to go down with their ship. I’m glad it’s sinking, it wasn’t fit for purpose and I’ll happily stick some extra holes in to make it sink faster.

 I’m going to single out Jonathan Anderson again. Listen, he’s a little pretty boy who’s working so effectively within the system, who has played the game perfectly to the best of his ability. His work is top level, he wins every time. So, I reckon he can be held up as an example. He can take it. I’m looking at the box-shows he did for Loewe and his own brand, and I’m thinking, oh that’s such a lovely take on alt fashion communication. So much heart, and care. Then, what’s the internet equivalent? A little video showing off the box. Some 3d shots & backs of looks and boxes. A little extemporised pitter patter from Jonny. That’s it. It’s still classist as fuck. With garment design there’ll always be limits on what’s possible in terms of digital translation. This isn’t actually garment design though. It’s fashion design. If I’m stuck with a low-grade clip and some jpegs, it’s pretty clear to me you don’t care about your wider fashion community. There should be an open digital experience that feels equally cared for and crafted. And here’s where I get really angry: all these fashion journalists have been delivered this unique, beautiful experience, and what are they doing with it? Where is the thoughtful response? Every single one of these people in this privileged position should be DOING THEIR JOBS (WHICH THEY ARE PAID TO DO, FULL TIME) and WRITE ABOUT FASHION. Not post online, ‘omg lovee ittt, so cutee!’. Anyone can do that. Are you a fan or a professional? This is an embarrassment. I’m stuck analysing some pixels. You’re getting the ‘real’ experience. I know I’ll never be an insider given these opportunities. I chose this path and I’m not going to try and play that game, because the rules are: you get access, in exchange for sacrificing criticality. Because these people, as educated and privileged as they are, don’t understand the value of criticism. Good criticism, the detailed, even handed, unafraid kind, pushes the culture forward. You can’t have a healthy art form without it, it’s essential because it’s the back in the back and forth. I probably could’ve tried to play their silly PR game a bit harder. But I had a nervous breakdown, in part, because I knew I would never be allowed to get close to the art enough to analyse it fairly if I spoke freely as I do now. And freedom is essential. So, pixels it is. Rudeness it is. Because there is work to do to salvage the bottom-dwelling wreck of our fashion dreams so that maybe we can travel somewhere new and better with them. It just sucks that there’s people standing there with the tools to help and no desire to save themselves or anyone else.