#but he looked and vibed essentially the same. skinnier but he was the same kind of dude

[creaturefeaster]

here's some of the recents :3

[thekitschdiet]

my take on the literary masterpiece, the chic diet

Firstly, I am no one. It’s part of my charm. My fifteen minutes of fame was years ago, when I had an instagram niche meme page. I didn’t even take any brand deals! And my posts averaged six thousand likes! Anyhow. I am hardly literate and well hydrated and carry a small sephora-CVS-hybrid worth in my mini tote bag. Here is my guide on how to live like me, the intermediate kitsch-rat, aspiring influencer. But like, in an apathetic, somewhat dissonant, ironic way. I like saying I live by dogmatic principles. But a lot of it, um, is just eating disorder rituals. But that’s not really important. You’re as hot as you say you are, and as much an authority on what you write so long as you say it with, you know, conviction. It’s kind of venerable how fucking delusional I am, actually. Giving any sort of advice like I’m anywhere close to the ritzy ideal of the amphetamine-areyouami label-american. New York, ideally. West Village, preferably. But I guess the kind of guide I can write is better suited to someone living in a suburb, in a house with the twelve-paned windows. I always thought those were so chic. SO quaint, in a somewhat luxe way. Like, Connecticut vibes. My parents used to drive me up there as a child to buy books and ice cream. Nowadays I’d opt for a matcha latte with novelty ice cubes, but I guess at the time it was pretty sweet. 

Because I popped a Vyvanse at like, 10pm, this next little bit could go one of two ways. I will write the most articulate, brilliant piece of literature of my life. Magnum opus, if there was a skinnier word for it. Or, I will get wrapped up doing something like folding all my last-season knits (which is part of my look, okay! I don’t have a job!) and fixating on a paragraph on how a girl’s collarbones are almost as identifying as a fingerprint, or a signature. I’m not a graphologist, but if you write your A’s with the little tail on top (like on a computer), you’re probably a snake. Nothing personal, just an observation. Also, I do have a biology final to study for. Not that I’m super anal, or even particularly committed to academia, but even in my precariously manicured (read that as separate terms; I did a good job on my nail polish, okay? But I happen to also be teetering on the brink of an epiphany or a collapse. Hence the use of the word precarious.) state, I know it’s important enough I can let one of my countless side-quests sit idle for a couple more days. 

The first section seems only natural to be about hydration. And the whole idea of drinking things, really. There was a section in The Chic Diet about Adderall dry-mouth, which deeply resonated with me. Once I bit off a chunk of a Nivea Strawberry Shine (my favorite lip balm, more on that later) and swished it around my mouth. Didn’t help. Really, really didn’t. Anyway, I suppose that even if it served no purpose for combatting my prevacatingly ingenious cottonmouth solution, I was able to milk a sentence or two out of the experience. “Do it for the Vine”, all grown up! And wearing bananapapaya resin hoops too. Side note, that Etsy shop is a parasocial enemy of mine. It stems from jealousy, which sucks, but hating from inside a club I’m adjacent to is much healthier than being a hateful individual towards people I would, you know, interact with. Daily. Or something. I stopped going to therapy because I felt stupid about going and I don’t live in the right kind of town to warrant vacuous $300 hours. Bitching about my well-adjusted parents and how desperately I wished my anxiety would just “go away” was plainly gross, and a waste. Like, pretty sure almost every problem I have could be solved by a couple painful conversations taking place during a hurricane. Such a shame it doesn’t rain much here. Anyhow, I digress. 

Staying hydrated. It is essential to my character, my persona, if you will; to never be without either an elegant metal bottle (I’m loyal to the smooth enamelled S’well ones, printed to look like marble or a semi holographic solid) or a little 16oz tumbler with a metal straw. Hydroflasks were some of the worst things to happen to society. I want to preface this claim with the fact that I wanted one in the same way a teenage girl wants a new iPhone so she can keep up appearances with her dermatologist-dad friends who still have the XR, by the way. But I ended up spending the money on like, a minidress at Brandy Melville before it fled my city. Or maybe a Fresh Sugar tinted lipbalm. For the better, even though the dress has a busted zipper now and the lipbalm tube has inevitably gotten dinged and dented by the other contents of my mini-totebag. Unlike a car, though, a couple scuffs on your laptop or your luxury lipbalm tube looks kind of cool. Like, you’re not someone who values the pristine, unused quality of an item that was ambiguously intended to be used versus displayed on Instagram.  Now, I’m wondering why this paragraph about hydration is so fucking impossible to stay on track for. I literally drink several litres of water a day, and more tea on top of that. And sometimes an almond milk latte if I can budget it in. Not that I’m so anorexic I can’t afford a 45cal latte. They’re just not that important to me. Anyhow. Drinking lukewarm (on the cool side) water is better than ice-cold. Partially because I just get it out of the tap of my ensuite and I can’t be bothered to wait for it to run cold enough every time, and it just seems wasteful. Plus, there is something so.. skinny about drinking water at an “obscure” temperature. Trust me, I want to know why my thought process is like this too. My favorite tea is blueberry tea foraged in a side aisle at my local supermarket. I love a good commercial, high-end steep or fruit infusion as much as the next girl. Maybe more. My pantry is filled with tins labelled with things like “emerald jade organic” and “magic potion”, which is really just currants and butterfly pea flowers. But there is a necessary glamor about drinking dirt-cheap tea on the daily. Seriously, a box of 25 sachets is like, $3. At a higher point with my, um, Adderall problem, I spent like several times that on pills. I didn’t really need to include that, and could have linked the price point to the cost of a drugstore lipbalm, but I wrote it in. And I’m married to it, stubbornly, as all amateur writers should be when they wittle in a somewhat indecorous little joke. This tea is sooo good because it has a strong fruit-reminiscent taste (not as sweet as a fresh blueberry, but who wants that anyway?), it’s zero-calorie, it’s the most GORGEOUS color ever. The latte, the third drink in my little trifecta, is nothing special. But necessary. The trick is to use a milk frother to whip up sugar free syrup with instant coffee and a little bit of hot water in a glass. It’ll make the most luscious foam.. Top it off with almond milk. My dad is a coffee purist, owning both an upstairs keurig AND a downstairs one (among other more analogue methods, but I can’t name-drop, so what’s the point?), so he hates this drink. Now, calling oneself a plebian is so unglamorous and teetering on self-deprecating territory, dangerously close to insecurity. But I can use it here because I am at least posh enough to have a different pair of earrings for every outfit I could possibly come up with, and I only wear Patagonia if I am in a situation where I just have to wear fleece. Like I was saying. It’s such a simple drink, certainly not a delicacy, and… I had a joke about the word plebian but I keep getting up to refill my water and I fear I have forgotten about it. 

Next section; the importance of a good tinted balm

In the intro I alluded to how a girl’s collarbones function essentially as an identifier, the way a signature or fingerprint does. This is a lie, or at least an exaggeration. But one’s ultimate tinted lipbalm is  actually extremely indicative about who you are, as a person, as a member of society, even… 

If you are loyal to Dior Lipglow, I have a couple questions. One; did you shoplift one tube, once, and refill it with cheaper stuff afterwards? I did that. I consider it one of my better-kept secrets, but now you know. Might as well explain the catalyst for my parent’s first separation now, and the horrifying experience that was meeting my dad’s Manhattan sugar baby (?) at the age of thirteen, wearing an overalls dress from, like, Topshop or something else equally embarrassing. .. Kidding. I digress. It’s such a fancy lipbalm, and good too! It smells like thin mints! But I could just never justify cell phone monthly installation payment money on something I will inevitably talk off. I do own three, but two I stole (before I lost the nerve, somewhat unfortunately) and one, a boy(not)friend bought for me. This is not something I feel any remorse about, because his house was easily four thousand square feet and his sisters had a dedicated all-glass room for their shared peloton. Oil money. Ugh!

My personal favorite lip balm, and I have tried a frightening amount, has got to be the Nivea Fruit Shine collection. The frosted one is shit-ugly. Hideous. But the strawberry one is the love of my life. It’s such a pleasant red, looking healthy and rejuvenated and really completes any look. Only downside is it will always, hopefully not always, remind me of Charles. Kissing Charles, specifically. And him asking me what lipbalm it was, because he knew I was somewhat frivolous and definitive and would have a very long answer. But for whatever reason, I simply stated it was from “out of town”. Not really sure why I said that, but it plagues me (minorly) to this day. Of all the things to make up.. .. The peach one is a perfectly demure spring classic shade. Cherry exists too, but the only tube I have ever had the fortune of owning was purchased in Costa Rica and lost somewhere on the way home. Honestly tragic, it was the juiciest shade. Blackberry is perfect too, but I have to layer it with either peach or untinted lipbalm to avoid what I imagine TooPoor would choose if she believed in tinted lipbalm. I don’t mean this hatefully, I think she’s a queen, but super dark, smudgy makeup suits the eyes better in my opinion. Or something. Or something.

Afraid to bore the reader, I have to move on now. Maybe at a later date I will release an addendum on my ultimate lipbalm buying guide. But also, that is so deeply personal (and everyone needs the excuse of “hunting for the perfect staple shade!!”), so it is really not my place to have any authority on something so intimate and subjective. Etcetera. 

Moving on; Decorating your room

Here is a section I lifted out of my memoir document. It fits, because as enigmatic as I hope I am, I am also quite unchanging.

 I just pushed three hangers and two tiny strappy tops with the tags still on, off my bed. Most nights, all, these days, actually; I spend in my large but cluttered bedroom. I have a little ensuite with a jetted tub I’ve never used because I just never get around to it. There’s a plush grey rug, spanning the expanse of the room (covering an ugly cherry wood that doesn’t match the rest of the house; no clue why. I never asked, and the previous owners were eager to sell so they could finally ditch this town and retire in Montreal for the bagels, or Hawaii for the monk seals. Point is, I’ll never know) with loose beads and loose pills and little shards of glass from plier-crushed beads. I vacuum every day. The whole room tells you exactly the kind of person I am; the clutter I possess, the encapsulation of the projects I start, start, start and the hours I don’t sleep for and the clothes I tried on (these to sell, these to cut up with kitchen scissors; thrifted lululemon and aritzia and heaps of knits and plaid fabric..) I would not say the room is a mess. Lived in, maybe. Chopsticks and mugs and gum wrappers. Single dangle earrings. I just finished the last of my Creme Brulee eos lipbalm; disguised as a relic of 2015, I was gifted it Christmas of ‘20. I think my next waxy conquest will be a tinted Burt’s one I palmed a while back, before I lost the nerve. Peering around the room you will see shopping bags strewn about the mouth of my walk-in closet. Every surface has something shiny or colorful stacked up on it. Cluttered, busy, but intentional. Except for the walls, which are bare. Bare and gray and miles-tall when I lie flat on my back, high out of my mind, willing things to change but knowing I’m responsible for a first step I will always be too scared for. Bare, pristine, no gumtack. Empty, Like they’re waiting. I wait around a lot. It makes sense. That was an awful lot of words about my stupid blank walls when truly it does not bother me that much; I really just don’t get around to it. I have other things on the ground to tend to, like post-email nausea, addressing envelopes, marrying wire and bead.  Writing a document I care about because I am determined and I am alive, alive, alive, goddammit. 

Excerpt over. The memoir is coming out when I get famous, or something earth shattering happens. Like I become the world’s least remarkable entrepreneur, and I get retweeted by Colorpop. I don’t want to be the next Elizabeth Wurtzel. I read two of her memoirs one restless night, absorbing it to make up for the nutrients I didn’t that day (you can laugh. I think that is pretty clever), heart breaking a little bit. She writes about her struggles so intrinsically, you either get it, or you don’t. Anyway. She had the books and the fame from it, and she wrote more memoirs than I think a single person should. That is admirable. Aspirational, even. But I do not want to be like her. Where was I? Oh. Yes. Decorating/adorning/filling your room. Your room should serve as the kind of place to watch a movie (if you believe in film. I don’t) and put on ridiculous glittery eye makeup, or smoke an ~artistic cigarette~ or stay up all night on the phone, which is different from staying up all night simply on your phone. Chatting with someone you are tepidly in love with is much more exciting. Not chic as the whole affair is so juvenile, but fun regardless. It’s somewhere to keep your worldly possessions, too. I know I have a lot! Also, it is kind of thrilling to hide things in your room in little crevices only you know about. Now, unfortunately, everyone reading this will know too. But, like, I trust you not to really.. do anything about it. I keep my extra juul pods in the sliding box my apple pencil came in. That box is almost more useful than the pencil itself. I’m somewhat morally opposed to the iPad. Whole culture is so embarrassing! I have a tea tin with an ounce of golden teacher shrums in it. This is tossed in my closet among tins filled with other things, like lace trim and buttons. Which makes it actually a pretty terrible hiding spot, I see now… Anyhow. Keeping benign little secrets like that is so fun. You can tell I don’t have siblings. I sort of wish I did, but it is easier to believe there is something aristocratic about being an only child. Not sure if older-sister me would be egalitarian enough to share things. But that’s prophesying, which is kind of a waste of time. I live in the now, in a room positively cluttered with meaningless things that mean the world to me, chewing on my lip because my mouth is just so dry and 5gum is just not an after-8 indulgence. To live truly kitschly, you have to have somewhat hideous decor. Now, do not confuse dissonant, or incoherent, with what I mean by “hideous decor”. The kitsch room has as many surfaces to look at as possible, while also shying away from too many shelving units. Then you risk your room looking like a storage unit or something. When my mom renovated (re: paid someone to do it) our New York house so we could sell it, all our stuff was stacked up in a Cubesmart self storage. It was sort of horrifying, seeing my childhood home reduced to plastic storage tubs piled what felt like thirty feet high. Anyway. It’s just not an  inviting way to store things; I imagine it makes your room look like your stuff is all trapped in gelatin. The more fussy, tiny things you have out in the open, the better. Nail polish. Earring trees. Bowls full of rings and lighters and water color pans perched on your windowsill. A rack with the tackiest assortment of knits and bucket hats and baguette bags. And so forth.. Quickly surveying someone’s room is so telling. Bonus points if all your books are spine-in, except for your favorite ones, because you don’t want people to get the wrong idea. (that you read). 

[randomidiocyncrazies]

2.43 ep 5 thoughts: Oda and Aoki edition

sooo as you all know i’m an Oda (and Oda/Aoki) stan, so I just wanna take some time to talk about Oda and Aoki’s dynamics in episode 5 and compare it to the book a little

as a note, I’ll be commenting using my translated copy of the novel, which I’m pretty sure is based on the tankobon edition of the first arc (‘S1′); there may be some revisions in the bunkobon edition that i don’t have access to

[2.43 BOOK SPOILERS AHEAD]

while i think the tension during the club activity suspension had been downgraded from “this is a huge blow to team morale :O” to “hm, i guess people are kind of annoyed?” and we didn’t get to witness Aoki and Oda flying off the handle, I do appreciate that the seniors are presented as a unit in handling the younger team members, especially that Oda was able to stop Aoki with a glance in the anime (as shown above).

this strong partnership also leads us to the scene where they are hanging out together on break at one of their houses and communicating with each other about the incident, even though they have different opinions about it: Oda believes in Yuni’s innocence, while Aoki is holding a grudge (based on his words and expression). (also, what a gorgeous house!) 

there is no similar scene, or even a reference to something like this, in the book—this is because, as alluded earlier, the team suspension is presented as way more devastating to team morale than it was presented in the anime

in the book Aoki’s displeasure towards Yuni had a sharper edge; not only was Aoki the ‘lead interrogator’ during the team’s questioning of Yuni, but he also hauled Yuni up by his shirt collar when he thought Yuni’s refusal to explain what happened was him not taking this seriously. 

Oda actually had to physically intervene in the book, and although Aoki reluctantly let Yuni go, he specifically says that Yuni had “betrayed [Oda’s] trust.” When Yuni insisted that he didn’t do anything that’d cause trouble to the team and “it’s you [seniors] who refuse to take my word for it”, Aoki basically threatens to kill him if he keeps looking down on them/refusing to take this seriously. 

(Chika is also much more aggressive in the book; he tried to lunge at Yuni, but was held back by Kanno, who advised him to at least hear Yuni out, but also made it clear that they need an actual explanation out of Yuni instead of the wishy-washy stuff he’d been saying)

in the book, they make a note that Oda calming Aoki down is a rare sight that the underclassmen normally never see, which was kind of interesting in terms of how the 3rd year duo presents themselves to the team—Aoki is the cool cucumber while Oda is the excitable ‘heart’ of the team, so that line reinforces how unusual Aoki’s actions during the interrogation were. there’s also the implication that, since Aoki was so aggressive, Oda has to hold back and be the one who diffuses the situation this time.

as the argument over Yuni’s refusal to explain what exactly happened spirals out of control, Oda also reached his limit and snaps at all of them, including Aoki, to just resign if they’re just going to get in his way of playing at the Spring Tournament. this shocks everyone into silence, and Oda is so ashamed at his (”selfish”) conduct that he dismisses everyone, and it was heavily implied that he didn’t really speak to any of the team members during the month that club activities were suspended (horrified at his outburst during the last meeting).

in the epilogue (which timing-wise roughly corresponds to the after-credit scene in ep 5), it’s implied that Aoki was the one who reached out to Itoko’s friends in an attempt to figure out what went down during the incident, and Oda and Aoki have a rather touching reconciliation conversation.

essentially, Aoki walks in to the club’s supply office to see Oda taking care of the equipment. When Aoki pointed out that Oda doesn’t have to do all this as he’s the captain, Oda felt that it’s penance for “being the first one who gave up”:

“Nobody thought you’ve given up, you know.” Aoki sat down at the end of the bench, the worn wood creaking under his weight. Just as he was about to pick up one of the balls by his feet, he noticed—the “Seiin High School” written in marker on all of the balls are facing up in the same direction. 

Oda isn’t the kind of person who’d deliberately make sure the equipment was laid out uniformly, so it was easy to imagine that he got in early to maintain the equipment, as well as the way he stared at the name written across each ball he cleaned with deep emotion before putting it down naturally, with the school name facing in the same direction.

“If you weren’t the captain, the team would probably be finished and unable to make a comeback. It’s because of you that everyone is willing to push through these circumstances. You should be proud of that.”

“That’s because you went around to help me make nice with the underclassmen in the background, right?”

“No, I didn’t do anything to soothe them at all. Besides, I was only doing it for your sake before.”

Honestly, Aoki wanted to smack the hell out of Kuroba [...] While the others were more or less sympathetic after the whole incident was cleared up by Kuroba Itoko, Aoki still couldn’t quite forgive him. If it wasn’t for that brat, things would never have gotten to such a state.

“On this topic... Aoki, are you sure? If you retire now, you’d have plenty of time to get ready for your entrance exams.”

“Shin, stop bringing such an ancient topic up.” Aoki rested his elbows on the back of the bench. “There’s no time for you to feel guilty. Isn’t this the practice you’ve been looking forward to for so long? You have to show them you want this more than anything. Come now, before the others show up, hold your head high.”

Dipping his head down to look at Oda, Aoki thought Ah, so we’ve become old geezers too. Every time he looked at Kuroba and Haijima, he couldn’t help but think that Oda’s skin had a healthier glow back then; is it because he had gotten skinnier... no, no, he had built up some proper muscles since then, so maybe it’s just his face that looks tired?

It had been two and a half years since then. The first time he saw this shorty was when he’d been poked in the back, Oda’s eyes glittering as he chattered away about the “super ace.” He had been unwavering in the pure, naïve belief that he’d grow and become a super ace back then.

“I’m... really blessed.” Oda said quietly with a sniffle. He wiped the corner of his eyes, and when he lifted his head he expression on his face was one of happiness, though it was mixed with faint embarrassment. 

No, I think you’re pretty unfortunate. Aoki’s sure that, if he had been in Oda’s situation, he’d have given up on himself a long time ago. [...] Oda’s the type of person that, even when he’s forced to give up on his dream to become a super ace due to the unsurmountable challenge of his height, he’s still able to say he’s blessed with a straight face.

“Also, there’s one other thing I wanted to apologize for.” Oda hunched his back, clearing his throat sheepishly.

“What is it? Like I said, it’s fine.”

“I heard that you got a girlfriend, and went around on dates. I thought, ‘the team’s in a pinch and that guy had the time to play around with girls?!’ Honestly, I was really mad.”

“Pfft—” Aoki couldn’t help but laugh. When Oda looked at him in confusion, he covered his mouth with a hand and shifted his gaze away. “Don’t worry about it, there’s nothing going on.”

“You contacted the girls from the other school because you’re looking up leads for what happened with Kuroba, right? Still, even if you didn’t get a girlfriend, I think it’s only natural that you’d be popular; you’re really tall and smart after all.”

“Shin... can we just drop this?” Aoki interrupted, feeling his temples throb. He was a little angry, but... oh well, it’s fine if Oda doesn’t understand.

(2.43 S1 Epilogue part 3)

(Aoki is pining SO HARD he can be a frickin’ tree 🌲 he already has the height covered :V) 

in a previous post examining the Oda/Aoki dynamic, I’ve talked about how they seem to be at cross purpose when it comes to understanding the other’s motivation—we’ve seen Oda being confused by why Aoki would devote himself to him back in Chapter 3 (it’s because he is in love with you thinks your pure drive is admirable); and now the “I’m really blessed”/‘no I think you’re unfortunate’ exchange from Aoki’s point of view shows Aoki’s blind spot. it’s not explicitly stated, but to me it’s pretty clear that Oda was talking about having the team, and more specifically about having Aoki’s support, which is what makes him blessed. Aoki, though he’s not wrong about Oda being an optimist, seems to have missed (or dismissed) what Oda was really trying to say here

all in all, both the anime and the book have shipping material for Oda/Aoki, but in slightly different ways; in the anime it’s more of a stable and straightforward dynamic (which makes it easier for the anime staff and the viewers to handle, since there’s no opportunity to devote precious run-time to an in depth exploration of their characters and dynamic), while in the book it’s a bit more complicated, where it feels like they’re on the verge of something but it’s never addressed explicitly

or, in the terms of fanfic tropes, in the anime they give off strong established couple vibes, while in the book they’re more about the pining and miscommunication

EDIT: lmao the staff sure knows their marketing huh. they really said "Dinner at the Aoki Household" huh. (I guess the implication is that Oda slept over that night? or at the very least had dinner at Aoki’s place)

honestly it's rly interesting to sketch out the dynamic i want to explore in Oda/Aoki fics, because i see them as an established couple in the anime (sir they DATIN’), while i maintain that they have not gotten together yet in the books (and won’t until after Aoki had gone off to college)

(also, just to be clear, i don't think Oda/Aoki would ever be 'canon' in the sense that it'll be officially/explicitly confirmed. i just like their dynamic and i’m having fun with it)