#especially when we are quickly approaching a massive event with my entire family in attendance

[biblicalhorror]

My sister and dad wanted to work together to build the arch and it was LITERALLY my dad's only job for the entire wedding (he even had someone else pick out his clothes) and both of them seem to have forgotten about it entirely until today, when I asked them if they were still planning on doing that. Luckily, the groom's mother had an extra arch from her garden she was willing to donate, but now they're both too stubborn to give up on this idea of building one from scratch, again, ONE WEEK before the wedding

Life is.. a lot right now

[purpledinosaur1988]

Ever been in one of those situations where you put your trust in the wrong person. Yeah me to. I used to be "friends" with this female who turned out to be TOXIC! She caused so many problems in my life to a point where she would use me to lie for her, watch her brat of a child. When I met my husband back in 2014, the toxic female would try her best to break me and him up. It was early days in our relationship and she would always expect me to drop everything including date night plans to help her out of sticky situations. After seeing the effects of how miserable I was being made to feel, my husband eventually got me to walk away from the toxic female and finally be happy. I felt so much better without being associated with her. We never spoke again, would avoid each other in public etc. Fast for to a few months ago, I was waiting on a bus to work, she approached me trying to use my child as a pawn to win back "friendship" by telling me that my son's nan had passed away, saying I was to unblock her as she missed me. Obviously I didn't unblock her from my socials and the next time I saw my son I asked his uncle how his mum (my son's nan) was and that I hadn't seen her in awhile, he answered saying she is still struggling with the whole pandemic but is much better than before. That cleared that up. The toxic female told me a malicious lie. I mean has she no better things to be getting on with than trying to get me to fall for her BS 🐂💩 again.

My life has improved massively over the years I have been with my husband, we met in 2014, engaged in 2015 & married in 2016. I don't have a big circle of friends and I am okay with that as I would rather surround myself with those who are positive influences to me. Those friends hold a special place in my heart ♥️ I have my 2 best friends who I have been friends with since high school so they are more like Sisters to me.

If anyone feels there are red flags in your life with certain people. Please don't ignore them as you deserve to be happy.

Signs to look out for

1. You feel on-edge around this person, but you still want them to like you. You find yourself writing off most of their questionable behavior as accidental or insensitive, because you’re in constant competition with others for their attention and praise. They don’t seem to care when you leave their side—they can just as easily move on to the next source of energy.

2. They withhold attention and undermine your self-esteem. After first hooking you with praise and flattery, they suddenly become reclusive and uninterested. They make you feel desperate & needy, ensuring that you are always the one to initiate contact or physical intimacy.

3. Plasters your Facebook page with compliments, flattery, songs, and poems. They text you dozens, if not hundreds of times per day. You come to rely on this over-communication as a source of confidence.

4. Quickly declares you their soul mate. And for some reason, you don’t find it creepy. They tell you how much they have in common with you. On the first few dates, you do most of the talking and they just can’t believe how perfect you are for them.

5. Compares you to everyone else in their life. Ex-lovers, friends, family members, and your eventual replacement. When idealizing, they make you feel special by telling you how much better you are than these people. When devaluing, they use these comparisons to hurt you.

6. Lies and excuses. There is always an excuse for everything, even things that don’t require excusing. They make up lies faster than you can question them. They will always blame others—it is never their fault. They spend more time rationalizing their behavior than improving it.

7. No startle response. Total absence of anxiety, fear, and worry where there otherwise should be. They are also very easily bored by the familiar. You write this off as calm and cool, often feeling inferior and over-sensitive because you have normal human emotions.

8. Insults you with a condescending, joking sort of attitude. Smirks when you try to express yourself. Teasing becomes the primary mode of communication in your relationship. They subtly belittle your intelligence and achievements. If you point this out, they call you hypersensitive and crazy.

9. Uses social networking to provoke jealousy and rivalries while maintaining their cover of innocence. They once focused all of their attention on you, but now they post ambiguous videos and statuses to make you doubt your place in their heart. They bait previously denounced exes with old songs and inside jokes. They attend to new activity and ignores yours.

10. You find yourself playing detective. It is never happened in any other relationship, but suddenly you are scrolling back years on their Facebook page and albums. Same with their ex. You are seeking answers to a feeling you cannot quite explain.

11. Surrounds themselves with former lovers and potential mates. Brags that their exes still want to sleep with him/her, but assures you there is nothing to worry about. These people make you feel jealous and give off the perception that your partner is in high-demand.

12. Hyperbolizes emotions while displaying none of them. They make passionate statements like “I have never felt so happy in my life” in a completely robotic voice. It sounds like an alien trying to explain how they imagine human emotions might feel.

13. You are the only one who sees their true colors. Others will think they’re the nicest person in the world, even though they are used for money, resources, and attention. They will not care because he/she strategically distracts them with shallow praise (often done over social networking). Psychopaths are able to maintain superficial friendships far longer than their relationships.

14. Accuses you of emotions that they are intentionally provoking. They will call you jealous after blatantly flirting with their ex over social networking for the world to see. They will call you needy after intentionally ignoring you for three days straight.

15. Cannot put themselves in your shoes, or anyone else’s for that matter. You find yourself desperately trying to explain how they might feel if you were treating them this way, and they just stare at you blankly.

16. You are engaged in constant conversations about their ex. You know them by name, and you know everything about their relationship—at least, your partner’s version of events. The ex becomes one of the most frequent topics of discussion in your relationship.

17. You find yourself explaining the basic elements of human respect to a full-grown man/woman. Normal people understand the fundamental concepts of honesty and kindness. No adult should need to be told how they are making other people feel.

18. Focuses on your mistakes and ignores their own. If they’re two hours late, do not forget that you were once five minutes late to your first date. If you point out their mistakes, they will always be quick to turn the conversation back on you.

19. Suddenly and completely bored by you. Gives you the silent treatment and becomes very annoyed that you seem to be interested in continuing the passionate relationship that they created. You are now a chore to them.

20. The ultimate hypocrite. They have extremely high expectations for fidelity, respect, and adoration. After the idealization phase, they will give none of this back to you. They will cheat, lie, insult, and degrade. But you are expected to remain perfect.

21. Sometimes it seems as though they’ve forgotten who they’re supposed to be around you. They adopt different personas for different people—transforming their entire personality to match various audiences. It is always very eerie when they slip and accidentally use the wrong mask for you. You will start to feel that their personality just does not seem to add up.

22. An unusual amount of “crazy” people in their past. Any ex-partner or friend who did not come crawling back to them will likely be labeled jealous, bipolar, an alcoholic, or some other nasty smear. They will speak about you the same way to their next target.

23. Flatters your deepest insecurities. If you are self-conscious about your looks, they will call you the sexiest person in the world. If you have got a need to entertain, they will say you’re the funniest person they have ever known. They will also mirror your greatest fantasies, playing whatever role is necessary to win your heart.

24. Frequently comments about what you are wearing and how you look. They try to arrange you. You become obsessed with your appearance, noticing flaws that likely don’t even exist. During and after the relationship, you will spend significantly more time in front of the mirror.

25. You fear that any fight could be your last. Normal couples argue to resolve issues, but psychopaths make it clear that negative conversations will jeopardize the relationship, especially ones regarding their behavior. You apologize and forgive quickly, otherwise you know they’ll lose interest in you.

26. Obsessed with humiliating successful, kind, and cheerful people. Delighted by the idea of breaking up friendships and marriages. If you work hard to maintain interpersonal peace in your life, they will make it their mission to uproot all of it.

27. Gaslighting. Blatantly denies their own manipulative behavior and ignores evidence when confronted with it. They will become angry if you attempt to disprove their delusions with facts.

28. They expect you to read their mind. If they stop communicating with you for several days, it’s your fault for not knowing about the plans they never told you about. There will always be a self-victimizing excuse to go along with this.

29. Selfishness and a crippling thirst for attention. They drain the energy from you and consume your entire life. Their demand for adoration is insatiable. You thought you were the only one who could make them happy, but now you feel that anyone with a beating pulse could fit the role. However, the truth is: no one can fill the void of a psychopath’s soul.

30. Your feelings. After a run-in with a psychopath, you will feel insane, exhausted, drained, shocked, suicidal, and empty. You will tear apart your entire life—spending money, ending friendships, and searching for some sort of reason behind it all.

We can find that normal and loving people do not raise any of these flags. After a negative encounter, most survivors face the struggle of hypervigilance: who can really be trusted? Our gauge will swing back and forth for a while, like a volatile pendulum. We all wonder if we have gone absolutely mad for wanting to believe the best in an old friend or a new date, but also feeling sick to the stomach when actually spending time with them.

It is important to develop our intuition, but that is a personal process. The world is mostly full of good people, and we suffer a double punishment if we miss them due to the fear of being hurt again.

People need to set aside some time to get in touch with their feelings, and become comfortable with a balance of awareness and trust. The reflection offers understanding about our emotions. It helps provide understanding for which old relationships need to be refreshed, and which toxic patterns need to be abandoned and replaced by healthier ones.

Society conditions us to ask “does this person like me” instead of exercising critical thinking and asking “do I like this person?”

[fleurie3am15inspo]

Everyday Hero: Dad-Aizawa Fic

Hey there @the-lupine-sojourner​ !!! It’s me, Fleurie 😁 I bet you’re wondering, “huh, I wonder why she’s tagging me in this fic?” Well, I got news for you, buddy! I was your Secret Santa for this @dailybnha​ BNHA Secret Santa event! 😄 Surprise! What are the odds, ey? 😂 I hope I didn’t give it away in my anon asks cuz with me sounding all nervous all the time :p try as I might, I cannot shake it, lol. Well, anyway, this is all still a little new to me, writing bnha centered fics and whatnot. And as I mentioned before, it came out a little more on the slice of life side than fluff. Sorry, but I hope you like it anyway! Enjoy some Dadzawa and I hope you have a Merry Christmas!

The baby in his arms reached her tiny hands up, grasping at a few strands of his hair. It was different than before. No more did he feel that irk of annoyance when she did that. Instead, it felt warm. Innocent. And filled with love. Eraserhead blinked in surprise and tugged his head back. The movement caused him to wince and the child to laugh a colorful, sweet, twinkling laugh. Despite himself, Eraserhead felt a smile broaden over his own face and a soft laugh break through.

“Fukukado,” he warned, still laughing, “Turn it off.”

She quirked a brow, a smirk playing on her lips. “It’s not me, Eraser.”

“Don’t lie to me,” His hair rises (save for the strand in the infant’s hand) and his eyes glow red as he attempts to erase a quirk that was never even activated.

What? Curiously, he sneaks a glance at Yoshiko. Nothing.

“It’s not her either,” Emi says chuckling, “It’s you. It’s all you.”

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

“NO.”

“Oh come on, Shota! You haven’t even heard what it is yet.”

“I don’t need to. The fact that you’re asking me is enough.”

“Since when is me asking for a favor a bad thing?”

“Since you haven’t visited for years and only show up whenever you need something.”

“Okay, I know I haven’t had the chance to visit lately, but I know for a fact you haven’t made the effort either. The way I see it, it’s the classic kettle calling the pot.”

“I have a responsibility to my agency.���

“As do I to my city,” Sigh, “Look, it’s just for a few days. I need to attend the conference per company regulation. It’s just a series of meetings and trainings, but I can’t bring Yoshiko with me. I need someone to look after her while I’m gone.”

“Why don’t you get a babysitter for her?”

“I’m not trusting my baby to a stranger! Especially not now where there’s been undocumented kidnappings in the area. I don’t have time to do background checks on everyone. I know you. And I trust you. Please, you’re the only one I trust to look after my daughter.”

“...How long?”

“Just the weekend. The second the conference is over, I’ll be on the next flight home. I promise.”

“Alright. Bring her by the house later when you’ve got all her things. Stay safe up there.”

“I will. Oh, thank you Shota! You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Don’t mention it. Though, in exchange, you need to stop with these out of nowhere favors. Come by and visit sometime.”

“Of course! Yoshiko needs to get to know her godfather, afterall.”

“Her what?”

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

It’s been four years.... I miss you, Aneko.

Indeed, four years have passed since the disappearance of his cousin. What had only meant to be a three day weekend of watching his newfound goddaughter had taken a somber turn when news spread of a massive villain attack in the city where his cousin’s agency was undergoing their annual battle training. Normally, such an outright attack on a congregation of heroes would be wildly unsuccessful, if not laughable. But this instance was far from normal. In broad daylight, the entire building just vanished. Along with everyone inside it.

Investigations were still underway to locate the missing heroes. But in the four years of the aftermath, too little leads yielded little hope. Many families were grieving and others were moving on, adjusting to their new lives; Shota included. Suddenly, he found himself to be the only family baby Yoshiko had left. Her mother was missing and as far as he knew, Aneko had been on her own.

Once he came to terms with the fact that he was now her legal guardian, he had pulled out all the stops. Parenting books, crib shopping, taking a leave of absence from his agency, and enlisting the help of a few friends like Ms. Joke and Present Mic. Despite not having any children herself, Fukukado was great with children. She always seemed to know what to do to get a laugh out of the child without the use of her quirk. Mic knew some good lullabies to lull her to sleep.  

Even with all the help he had been receiving from those around him, he still found himself questioning his abilities. How was he supposed to raise a child? Aizawa never had any siblings growing up and was raised to be independent from the get go. Aizawa knew he couldn’t rely on their help forever, so he spent countless hours practicing on his own. In no time at all, he learned to change diapers, properly prepare bottles, braid hair, put outfits together, etc. and as Yoshiko got older, he was constantly finding himself picking toys off of the ground, trying to get her to eat her vegetables, preparing special meals for her, struggling to get her to sit still in the morning long enough to brush her hair. It was hard work. And he loved every minute of it.

Finally, in the blink of an eye, Yoshiko was old enough to start school. It should have been a relief to have her start school. It would mean that she was being kept under close supervision at all times for the better part of the day so that he could focus a little more on his work. As it was, being a single, working father was hard enough. Having somewhere she could be safe while he worked gave him a little bit of breathing room, but lately, he had been reminded that villains didn’t seem to care for heroes’ personal lives and would make their little heists at ungodly hours of the day. Or just any time he could have spent with his daughter.

With a sigh, the erasure hero pulled his goggles over his eyes and refocused on his current mission at hand. His agency had gotten word of suspicious activity on one end of town and had sent him to investigate. Silently, he crept towards the edge of the building overlooking an alleyway. It looked to be some sort of contraband deal. There were six figures in total; nothing too serious. Working quickly, he made sure to apprehend them and made short work of them in no time. The only injury he sustained was a cut along his upper arm from one of the thugs’ talons when he let him get too close. All things considered, that injury was the least of his problems.

“Shoot!” The injury could wait. He was nearly two hours late picking up Yoshiko from pre-school. Working quickly, he made sure to bind the thugs together away from the contraband and contacted the authorities. It took forever for them to arrive, it seemed. By the time the first cop car arrived, Eraserhead was already wrapping his scarf onto the building ledge.

“Wait!” The cop called, “Eraserhead, we need a statement!”

“That’ll have to wait,” He responded curtly, “I’m already late picking up my daughter.”

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

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, a little girl with violet hair and yellow floral overalls is sitting in the doorway of a classroom, drawing in the dirt with her finger. Her backpack is lain against the wall. Two of her teachers are watching from inside the classroom and exchange worried glances. The younger of the two, Akiyama, approaches her and kneels down next to her.

"How are you doing, sweetie? Your dad still isn't here yet?"

"Nope."

"Do you want to come inside? It’s going to be dark soon.”

“No, thank you.” she replied, not looking up from her drawings, “Daddy will come.”

“I know sweetie, but we need to get you inside. We’ll call your dad again in a few minutes.” She holds out a hand towards Yoshiko. “Come on. You can have a snack if you want, too.”

Yoshiko finally looks up at her and stares at her hand blankly. She hums in hesitation before glancing out one more time at the empty parking lot. “I don’t…”

A loud screeching of tires sounds through the air and a taxi is seen skidding past the pickup area, grinding to a halt a few feet away from where the classroom door is. The poor teacher’s aide next to Yoshiko screams and falls back, but the little girl smiles with glee. Aizawa jumps out the driver’s side and a very frightened taxi driver scrambles out of the passenger side.

The driver clutches his stomach and raises a shaking finger at Aizawa, “Y-you! What are you crazy?! You could have killed us!”

The other teacher rushes out of the classroom and kneels down at the side of the petrified aide. She shoots Aizawa a very angry look. “Sir!” she screamed, “This is a school, for Heaven’s sake!”

He pays no attention to them, instead, focusing on the one shout that mattered.

“Daddy!”

He rushed around the car to the little Yoshiko who is bouncing up and down excitedly. She’s raising her arms and he scoops her up into a hug with an apologetic look on his face.

“Hey, hey…” he murmured, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect work to keep me out so late. I’ll be on time tomorrow, okay? I promise.”

“It’s okay Daddy,” she said snuggling her face into his shirt, “I knew you’re coming!”

The older teacher, Hayashi, is helping up Akiyama while holding a steady glare at the “Sir,” she reprimanded, “This cannot continue. We have told you countless times that we are not a daycare center. When 3 o’clock rolls around, you are expected to be here, on TIME, to pick up your child. I understand you’re a busy man, but given that you are already aware of these instances, I implore you to make arrangements at an actual after school child care facility-”

“I am not trusting my baby to a stranger,” Aizawa interrupted, holding Yoshiko tighter,  “The background check process took long enough with this school, I don’t have the time to interview other daycares.”

“Well, I’m sorry, sir, but something has to be done. Take it up with your employer; we can’t keep doing this.”

The tension hung in the air for a brief moment before Aizawa finally relented with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’ll see what I can do. I’ll be here tomorrow.”

Hayashi crossed her arms and said, “See to it that you do.” before leading Akiyama back to the classroom by the elbow.

“Looks like I have work to do,” Aizawa humphed. He pulled Yoshiko away from him and placed her on his shoulders. “You want to take the scenic route home?”

“Yes!” she cried, clapping her hands happily. Aizawa wrapped one end of his scarf around her like a makeshift seatbelt and readied the other in his free hand. Before taking off, he dug around in his pocket for a few bills. He promptly handed them to the taxi driver who, though no longer shaking, still remained a little green from the incident.

“Sorry about that. We’ll take the high road home from here. Let’s go!”

Yoshiko waved bye-bye to the taxi driver one last time. And with that, he swung off high above the building tops.

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

“Alright, Yoshiko,” he said putting her down once they got home, “go put your backpack away. I’ll clean up a little and get dinner started.”

“Okay!”

While she bounded off to her room, Aizawa made his way to his own room to grab a fresh set of clothes and get changed. He winced a little at a small pain in his upper arm and remembered his wound. The cut wasn’t deep. Nothing a bandage shouldn’t be able to take care of. After wrapping it quickly, he headed back to the kitchen and set some noodles to boil on the stovetop. While that was cooking, he found Yoshiko sitting at the table with crayons and pages scattered all around her. Most were adorned with colorful doodles of cats and flowers. She had her head bent low over her current project and was scribbling feverently. Aizawa took a spot next to her, leaning over curiously.

“What are you drawing there?”

Donning a wide grin, she proudly holds up her drawing, “It’s you!”

Indeed it was. As close to resembling Aizawa as a four year-old’s crayon drawing could be, anyway. Yoshiko had drawn a tall box looking man with wild black sticks for hair and giant pink swirls for his eyes. Beside the figure was a smaller box girl with violet sticks of hair pointing downward that seemed to be both holding hands with the Aizawa figure and holding this giant pudgy looking cat in her other arm. (Said cat was now rubbing himself along the feet of her chair, meowing for attention.) And on the top of the page was scrawled the words “ME AN DADE” Warmth blossomed in his chest as he took it all in. Yoshiko leaned over with big gleaming eyes. “Do you like it, daddy? Did I do good?”

Aizawa chuckled and pulled her over, giving her a kiss on the forehead, “I do. It’s beautiful, thank you. And you know what? I know the perfect place for this.”

She jumped off of her chair and followed him back to the kitchen where she watched him proudly stick a magnet on the corner and stuck it to the fridge. “How does that look?” He asked her. Instantly, she squealed and bounced around in joy. “It looks perfect!!”

He picked her up and planted another kiss on her head before setting her back down again. “I’m going to finish up here. Go draw me another one, okay?”

“I’m gonna make a big one!” she cried, running back to her crayons and starting on a clean page with a renewed vigor.

As he stirred the soba, Aizawa got to thinking. How did he end up with such a beautiful little girl? A small pang hit his heart as he recalled the specific details as to how he came to be her guardian, but it was replaced with determination to raise his goddaughter as if she were his own. So far, it looked like he was succeeding. She was growing up so fast, and so patient for her age. She had to come first, always. It wasn’t fair that what happened today was commonplace for her. At this rate, it could spiral out of control and he could be missing out on larger parts of her life.

No. He wasn’t going to let that happen. Working at the agency and trying to be there for Yoshiko was becoming too much of a losing battle. He would just have to take a break from hero work for a while. Try something else, teaching maybe. A lightbulb went off in his head and he grabbed his cell, dialing a certain blonde pro-hero.

“Hizashi? Could you come over and watch over Yoshiko for a little while? There’s something I need to do.”

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

“Principal Nedzu, thank you for meeting with me on such short notice”

“Not at all!” The small rodent hoisted himself up on a chair and settled down happily with his cup of tea. “I have often told you in the past that if you ever needed anything, all you had to do was ask. Surprisingly, not too many folks are too keen on the idea of coming to me when they need assistance. I ask for nothing in return; I’m so glad you are finally coming forward to speak with me. Just tell me what you need and we can work something out. Are you having issues in your current place of employment? Perhaps if we discussed it at great length-?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Aizawa interrupted hastily, “I am experiencing some difficulty with time management in my current agency. I called hoping to meet with you to discuss an employment opportunity you had offered to me in the summer.”

“Ah, yes!” Nedzu exclaimed, “I do recall contacting you. We are in need of a new homeroom teacher for the hero course. Have you reconsidered my offer? The position is still available if you are interested.”

Aizawa set his own cup down and leaned forward in his chair. “As a matter of fact, I have. I will be leaving my current agency soon in favor of a job with more manageable hours. Financially speaking, we are well off. But practically, I cannot raise my daughter if I am never home. And now that she has started school, I am having a difficult time finding a middle ground”

Nedzu nodded understandably, “Yes, I see. It is no easy task raising a child alone. But rest assured, here at U.A. we take care of our faculty members. Believe it or not, you are not the only teacher who has had difficulty with after school childcare. We have a daycare center in our main building. You are more than welcome to make use of it for your daughter. We can send someone over to retrieve her every day precisely at three o’clock and have her wait here until the school day has finished.”

Aizawa stiffens a little at the mention of someone else picking up Yoshiko from school. Nedzu catches the hesitation, “I see you are a little uneasy still? Not to worry, Eraserhead, we are all trained professionals here. Your daughter will be in safe hands. You have my word”

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

Later that night, Aizawa took special care in brushing and braiding Yoshiko’s hair. He sat with her on the bed while she busied herself with annoying the old black and white kitty by hugging him relentlessly. While he brushed, he pondered how to ask his next question.

“Yoshiko? I want you to tell me something.”

“Yes?”

“How does it make you feel when I am late picking you up from school? Or have to leave early sometimes and you have to stay with aunt Fukukado or uncle Hizashi until I get back?”

The question makes her pause and think. The cat uses this opportunity to flee but she makes no effort to grab him again. “Well...sometimes when you’re late, I feel sad. I have to wait longer to see you. And when you’re really late...I get scared…”

A surprised look comes across Shota’s face, “Scared?”

She nods in affirmation, “Uh-huh. I get scared...cuz what if you don’t come for me? I don’t want you to forget about me…then I would be alone...”

At that, he pulls her in for a hug, “No, no. I could never forget about you. I’m sorry that I’ve scared you so much that you even had to think that. Look at me,” He lifted her face to look her in the eye, “I promise-”

“Pinky promise?” she asked, holding up her little finger.

“Pinky promise,” he confirmed, hooking their pinkies together, “that no matter how long it takes me to get to you, or how far I go, that I will never, ever forget about you. It’s impossible. You’re my little girl. I’ll always make my way back to you, even if I have to fight a million monsters to get to you. I’ll fight a million and one, just to keep you safe.” He kissed her forehead and scootches her over to the pillow end of the bed, tucking her into her covers. “Now you rest easy tonight, okay? Daddy got a new job, so I’ll be there right on time waiting for you after school. How does that sound?”

Yoshiko smiled and yawned, turning into her covers, “Every day?”

“Almost every day. If I can’t, I’ll have your uncle come get you. You won’t be alone again. I’ll be here. I promise.”

The smile on her face grew wider and more content as she begins drifting off into sleep.

“Thank you.”

He ruffles her hair in response, “You’re welcome.” He picks up her teddy bear from the floor and places it next to her as he gets up to leave. He stood at the doorway, flicking off the light when she spoke in a soft whisper.

“Daddy?”

He turned his head back to his little girl, already cuddling with her bear and falling half-asleep, “Yes?”

“You’re a hero.”

Aizawa snorted a little chuckle, “I know. That’s my job.”

“No,” she opened her eyes a little, “You’re my hero.”

A sudden burst of warmth exploded in his chest. To hold that mantle in your daughter’s heart...it almost made him want to cry. Almost. One thing he knew for sure: he would never let anyone hurt his child. He would protect her with his final breath, fight off any monster she feared, and make sure that she would be loved and safe for the rest of her life.

Sometimes he would think back to his life without her and think of how it was so different since she came along. His life was a better place. And it was all thanks to her.

“I love you daddy.”

“I love you, too.”

FIN

[justanothadeadbloginthevoid]

99 Gold Drifloon

A story in the pokemon universe, probably Sinnoh? I got the idea from the song "99 Red Balloons" by Nina.

Just over 2k words.

Warnings: kidnapping of a child (accidental?), unresolved disappeaeances, fear responses due to trauma

It's all fairly mild but be warned.

The sun rose, shedding light on a strange scene. The sky was filled with dark, boiling clouds driven by the wind, the bottom rippling like waves or grass. This itself wasn't an entirely unusual scene during the summer. However, if one looked closer, they would see the cloud was made not of water, but of balloon-like bodies. Thousands upon thousands of drifloon and drifblim were heading towards the small town, the denizens unsuspecting for now.

Maggie didn't watch tv or listen to the radio all that often. She was relatively reclusive, preferring to stay in her room and draw, read, or write. She had no siblings anymore, and though her parents were concerned, she seemed happy in solitude, so they let her be for the most part. She still participated in family activities when asked, and ate her meals at the table with them. It wasn't that she was unfriendly; she simply had no desire to go out. Her parents blamed themselves, and her little brother, for this. She used to love going outside. It even seemed for a while that she wanted to make the long trip to see a professor and get a starter Pokemon to begin her career as a trainer.

Not long before that time was to come, tragedy struck. Her brother was five and she was nine. They were playing in the woods near their home on the edge of town, their favourite pastime. They could hear their mother when she called them back for supper from there generally, yet they could have many great adventures for kids that age. No one but her was quite clear on what happened that particular day, but her young mind did it's best to convey the initially innocent events.

On a windy spring day, right on the edge of summer, they had found a golden drifloon stuck in some tree branches. They easily pulled it free, for which it seemed grateful. Soon, they were called home, and they dragged the pokemon out of the forest together. Then Maggie tripped and let go, leaving her much smaller brother as the only anchor. He wasn't a big kid, so before she knew what was happening, both him and the pokemon were too high in the air for her to catch. She had immediately run home sobbing, and by the time her parents got outside, all they could see was a dark line in the distance, driven away quickly by the gusting winds. They called the police and a search was conducted for the next several days. As days turned into weeks, everyone lost hope. This was not the first disappearance of its kind in the small town, nor was it the last in the next few months. Maggie didn't talk about it much, but everyone assumed she blamed herself a little, and they did their best to reassure her.

Now, almost a decade later, she seemed to have recovered. Quieter, more withdrawn, but showing no obvious signs of distress. Her parents still sometimes worried, wondering what they could've done differently to protect their children, but the disappearance was far in the past now; their family had moved on as best they could.

Though Maggie was never one for television, her mother was, and, as Maggie ate her breakfast, it was playing softly in the background. She paid it no mind, but the mug shattering as it hit the floor drew her attention towards the next room.

“Mom? Are you alright?” She got up and peeked around the corner, brow furrowed in confusion. Her heart dropped as she saw the scene on tv. The scrolling banner drew her eyes first, “BREAKING NEWS! INVASION,” but the images of the so called invasion were what terrified her. Droves of drifloon covered the screen, bouncing against each other and rippling with each gust of wind that passed through their ranks. The sound of wind and laughter in her mind drowned out the reporter's words, but the voice was that of the local news anchor certainly. On trembling legs she stumbled to the window, pulling back the curtains with pale, shaking hands, and looked up at the sky. It was dark, like a stormy day, but through the cloud sun peaked through, illuminating spherical purple bodies. She turned away, doubled over and trying not to vomit as horror coursed through her body. Briefly, the possibility of this being some awful dream nudged at the edge of her mind, but this felt nothing like the nightmares that had plagued her as a child. She felt a hand on her back. It was cold and trembling slightly, but her mother's touch was firm and soothing. Maggie still couldn't focus on words, but the gentle, familiar tone helped. Together they made their way back to the couch. Maggie wrapped herself in a blanket and curled up as she stared, transfixed, at the little screen.

On scene, reporters from every news source flocked to get the scoop on this strange event. Never in recorded history had so many of this Pokemon been seen together, some claimed. They tried to get facts, statistics, anything for the edge on their competitors. Many received word that at least a dozen of the supposedly ultra rare shiny variants could be seen among the masses. Almost all of them reminisced on the wave of disappearances a decade ago. Wild theories flew around. That had been an advance party, and these were here to steal all the children. That previously this massive swarm had passed by, and the stragglers were the kidnappers. Tensions were high, and no one was able to get a good look. Everyone was calling in favours to try and get more information.

Somehow, one of them had connections to the head of a large inventing corporation. The CEO quickly saw how advantageous it would be to have information to sell, and so sent out a unit of experimental light crafts to investigate. They had orders to confirm the identity of the pokemon, clarify their numbers and intentions, and classify everything they could. Some reporters got a chance to interview unit commanders and pilots for the planned second wave of investigators. Each one saw themselves as a brave hero, about to be sent off into the unknown. The heat of the sun beat off of the shining aircrafts, and the drifting Pokemon rode on those thermal waves, easily evading close inspection. However, this also made it possible for them to go deep into the cloud without injury any. Counting began.

Down on the ground, people were calling for a halt to the investigations. People were calling for peaceful passage of the so far harmless Pokemon. People were calling for extermination of the terrors that had already struck this place once before. No one could agree; tensions were high. The police did their best to keep the peace, always watching out for reports of abduction. They advised everyone stay inside, especially young children.

All the while, Maggie and her mother watched this unfold through the tv screen. Without speaking, the younger woman stood. Her mother looked up at her questioning and she just said, “I have to see,” before turning and heading for the door.

Her mother was speechless as it slammed gently. Maggie walked out across the grassy lawn towards the forest. She hadn't been there since that horrible day, and she didn't know why she was going there now. All she knew was there was a deep urge inside her to go, memories flashing through her mind ceaselessly. Her eyes trained on the sky, and blanket still wrapped around her shoulders, she walked.

The preliminary numbers were in, astronomical amounts of Pokemon formed the incredible cloud. They had measured all its dimensions as best they could, approximating averages. Some tried to estimate based on that the number of Pokemon, but others had found a clever estimation tool, the number of shinies. Roughly eight dozen individual shiny drifloon had been identified, meaning likely just under four hundred thousand creatures constituted the cloud.

This caught the attention of the infamous professor, Oak, a renowned expert on Pokemon in numerous regions. He came to the little town itself to see this incredible phenomena. He did personal interviews with every pilot and reporter he could, gathering information. He consulted with other professors via video call, and together they tried to solve this fascinating mystery. Finally a consensus was reached, and he quickly composed a short statement for a press conference. That evening, he made his statement on behalf of all the pokemon professors. Maggie still had not returned, but her father had, and both parents agreed she was old enough to be safe right now. Together they watched Professor Oak’s small speech.

“Pokemon are everywhere in our daily lives. They fill our waters, lands, cities, and even some homes. We do not fear them then.

I have devoted my life to the study of these magnificent creatures, as have several of the men and women I'm proud to call colleagues. We have put our heads together to examine the specifics of this grand event. Reliable sources have said there are 98 alternatively coloured drifloon among the massive flock, allowing us to estimate a total size of roughly 400 000.

Thus far, they have posed no threat to the safety of anyone, and so are not the be harmed. Additionally, studies over the past several years have lead us to believe that 86% of drifloon abductions are accidental, and so easily avoidable. Please educate your children on safety around these, and all, wild Pokemon. They should not approach them or try to touch them, they can be safely viewed from a distance, and until this mega flock has passed, all of us professors advise children do not go outside unless closely attended to by an adult.

We theorize that this is a mass migration, and we have teams looking through ancient records to see if anything of this nature has happened before. It will pass, and until it does I shall remain here to study it.

For those who have concerns for the safety of the pokemon, more manned missions will not be sent into the flock, only viewers from outside at a distance. I will give a detailed summary at the end of this phenomenal event.”

The news switched from him to the local anchor, but Maggie still had not returned. She was almost to the edge of the forest, shivering inside her blanket despite the summer sun. Here the wind rustled through the trees gently, carrying the soft sounds of various bug Pokemon. Memories of playing with her little brother, laughing and crying, protecting and fighting, all came to her. She let them come for the first time in so long, but no tears joined them as she had feared. Interrupting her thoughts came the cry of a distressed Pokemon, eerie and long as the sound floated in the wind. It's nagging familiarity drew her past the tree line, her eyes scanning up above. She wasn't certain it wasn't her imagination, but she didn't mind finding out.

There it was, just as she remembered, it's golden form hopelessly pinned in a tangle of branches, it's cyan hands pulling at them uselessly, unable to even snap twigs. Sickly satisfaction welled up in her as she watched it struggle. A drifloon just like this had taken away her brother. A hot, angry thought of throwing rocks at it tore through her mind. She considered it for a long moment, before dismissing it. This thing was probably worth something to someone, she might get a reward for bringing it. Not too gently she freed the pitiful Pokemon and grasped both it's stringy arms firmly as she pulled it behind her through the forest. It keened softly behind her, not attacking as it was helplessly dragged along. She ignored it as she walked steadily through the woods, one hand holding it and the other clutching her blanket to keep it around her shoulders.

Before too long she left the woods and looked around before heading in the general direction of home, unsure where to find someone that would want it. She yelped as she hit her toes on a protruding rock, clenching both her fists at the brief flash of pain. The drifloon squeaked and she looked up at it. It looked back with big black eyes, it's sunny body shaking in the breeze. This was where it had happened. Where her life, her joy, her confidence had been torn away along with that little boy. Her brother's innocent face as he looked down at her for the last time filled her mind. Her hand on its arms relaxed and let it go.

[nowtravel]

EMBARRASSING STORIES FROM MY TRAVELSLAST UPDATED JUNE 22, 2020

ARGENTINA, CANADA, INDONESIA, MYANMAR (BURMA), PERSONAL MUSINGS, TRAVEL, TRAVEL DESTINATIONS, TRAVEL NARRATIVE

This weekend I played tourist in my hometown and took the Metro to the Olympic Stadium for First Fridays, a massive food truck gathering on the first Friday of each summer month. We arrived early, so we opted to hit the cafe inside the stadium before the doors opened. When I leaned back against the counter, I felt a searing pain on my right butt cheek. Wondering if I was simply conducting an alarming amount of static electricity, I shot forward and swatted behind me.

A huge yellow jacket fell to the floor, stunned. He or she must have been sitting on my ass for who knows how long. My heart raced, my leg felt numb, and my tongue started to swell. I’ve never reacted with anaphylaxis from a bee or wasp sting before, but I’ll be following up for a potential allergy because it was a very different body response.

And then I had to pleasure of telling friends that I was stung in the butt by a wasp.

Sharing Embarrassing Travel Stories

The reaction from said friends was, “Jodi WHY does this always happen to you?” Which is a really valid question given the wildlife mishaps during my travels.

First, the problem of all the birds that have crapped on my head during my years of travel (14 birds and 1 bat, to be specific). Then, the iguana that mauled my leg in Belize — more on this soon, I promise — when he thought I was a tree and tried to climb me to eat my shirt.

There is the spider that ate other spiders in my room in New Zealand, not to mention the possum that attacked me at three in the morning in the same country, launching himself at me like a grenade while I screeched, half-asleep.

But none of these mishaps qualify for embarrassing travel stories. I have others that do. And since the blog veered toward the solemn with my Vipassana piece and the post on mechanics of jet lag, let’s get back to taking things a little less seriously shall we?

You’re welcome.

Banging a Bus in Argentina

I visited Argentina for the first time the year before I started working as a lawyer in New York City. Up until that point, my Spanish vocabulary consisted of very basic words I learned and strung together while visiting Spain. It was in Barcelona, in between tapas and wine, that I learned some phrases that kept me afloat in more rural areas.

Where is the bathroom?

How are you?

I am from Canada.

My name is Jodi.

Where can I take the bus?

It was the latter sentence that got me into trouble in Argentina. Coming off a long bus ride, I couldn’t find my connecting bus. I approached two men wearing the Andesmar uniform, thinking they might know.

“Permiso donde puedo coger el bus?” I asked timidly. I thought what I was asking was, “where can I take the bus?”

I was met with raucous laughter.

“Donde quieres, chica!” one of them said.

Confusion reigned until I remembered what my friends in Uruguay told me: coger was slang for “to fuck.”

So I basically asked where could fuck the bus, which led to the mirthful, mocking response of “wherever you’d like, lady.”

Face flushed with shame, I blurted out, “lo siento, estoy tanto embarazada!”

The gentlemen doubled over with laughter once again. One looked me up and down slowly and drawled, “I think not” (“pienso que no”).

And that was how I learned that in Spanish, embarazada is the word for “pregnant,” not for embarrassed. In case you were wondering, embarrassed is avergonzado or desconcertado.

For those learning Spanish, there are several other words that resemble English words but aren’t. A few:

Librería is a book store, not a library. A library is a biblioteca.

Decepción means to be disappointed, not deceived. A deception is an engaño.

And one of my favourites: carpeta is a file folder — a carpet is the awesome alfombra. Carpet never sounded so satisfying.

As for Argentina, I was appalled to manage not one but two disastrous language mistakes. To assuage my shame, I wrote a group email back to friends and family at home.

“I did the impossible,” it read. “I not only asked to have sex with a bus, but insisted that I was pregnant while doing so.”

Ants in my Pants at Angkor

The Great Butt Sting of 2016 reminded me of another ‘when nature attacks’ story from my time at Angkor Wat, a far more embarrassing turn of events. I was on a date with a very cute boy from Switzerland, who I had met in a different country. We stayed in touch in the interim and coordinated a trip to Angkor at the same time. His friends were working at an NGO in town. We spent our days climbing hidden treehouses and roaming the temples in awe, and the evenings eating and listening to stories from people who knew the city better than we did.

During one particularly lovely evening, he suggested that we sit and watch the sunset over Angkor Wat while listening to Michael Galasso’s track Angkor Wat Theme II from the In The Mood for Love soundtrack. This sounded like a great idea. As the sun began to set behind the ruins, we curled up on a stone bench and put on the song.

I even took a photo, since I loved the symmetry:

All seemed to be going well: stunning sunset, a gentleman I enjoyed sitting next to me, crumbling temples from a former kingdom. Except for one thing: I didn’t know it at the time, but I was sitting on a pile of fire ants. I found out pretty quickly.

Stinging pain, followed by more stinging pain. I leapt up with a shriek, and ran around in circles smacking my behind as that “great guy” laughed so hard that tears poured down his face. To make matters worse, there were several monks nearby, also waiting for a quiet sunset. I gave them a sincerely authentic burst of entertainment, and they had a field day laughing along with us.

Flashing a Tribesman in Myanmar

I was in Myanmar in late 2009 for over seven weeks, extended my trip from the initial few. The country was still under military rule, and you were allowed to see what you were allowed to see, and no more. I was encouraged to visit by friends who worked for NGOs in Northern Thailand as well as friends who had visited previously. They urged me to explore and take care to stay at local guesthouses and eat on the street, giving money to the local economy instead of the junta. At the time, it was a controversial decision to visit. I wrote a long “before you go” piece to reflect my thought process.

My travels took me up to the Kachin State Fair in Myitkyina, then back down to Mandalay by boat during a solar eclipse. They took me to Bagan (one of the worst bus rides I’ve ever experienced!) and to Inle Lake, and then south of Yangon to Hpa-An and its crazy caves and limestone cliffs.

It was in Inle Lake that I experienced an embarrassing travel faux pas. Throughout my time in Myanmar, I wore a traditional wraparound skirt called a longyi. It was easy to use, doubled as a towel after the shower, was comfortable, and wasn’t indecent in a very conservative country. To put on the longyi as a woman, you pull all of the fabric to one side, fold it back at the hip while holding it tight against your waist, and then tuck it into the opposite side. Women often sew in a thin band of black cotton at the top of the longyi, where it sits at the waist, “for the sweat”.

During one of many dawn boat trips around Inle Lake, I stepped out of the boat to attend one of the beautiful morning markets. While exiting the tiny boat, my longyi got caught on a protruding nail. In two seconds flat, the longyi untucked from my waist and lay in a pool of fabric at the bottom of the boat. Given that many Burmese women I met wore thick flannel bloomers under their longyis, my thong underwear was likely quite a surprise. And I highly doubt that the entire boat behind me full of Pao-O tribesman had seen a traveler’s pasty white butt before.

I went out and bought a safety pin immediately, but it didn’t stop the Inle boat drivers from giving me a smirk and a thumbs up when they passed me during the duration of my stay. News travels fast in a tiny town, especially when it involves a mistaken strip-down in front of a boat of elderly tribesman.

-Jodi

[statemant]

AN ODE TO GEORGIA - VETEMENTS SS 2019

JULY 1, TBILISI, 7:11 PM – I’m sitting in my kitchen with two of my friends and sipping final gulps of homemade iced coffee to bite with incredibly hot weather  outside and scrolling my Instagram.

I know that VETEMENTS show is about to start, almost everyone who I follow has live tuned on and the show starts. The quality of the live stream was not perfect but I could spot long narrow table, where models started walking and guests were “served” with the latest VETEMENTS outfits while sitting around it. With each new VETEMETNS show announcement, I always think what’s gonna be the next offering from Gvasalia brother, since we all know how they’ve revolutionized and “disrupted” the industry and their unusual runways is one of the biggest part of the brands’ entire aesthetic. It was the same here, I was intrigued to see just for the sake of interest. When first three looks appeared, music started and models were walking with usual VETEMENTES-que “rush”, I thought, well, ok. But then I’ve screamed, shouted (my friends looking scared at me) and had goosebumps all over, since fourth look featured a hoodie saying “ტანსაცმელი”, which means “clothes” (or “VETEMENTS”) in Georgian! None the less! Then another one saying “გაზაფხული/ზაფხული” (that translates as “Spring/Summer”), then “უფალო შეგვიწყალენ” (meaning “god bless us”) and finally the Georgian flag printed anorak jacket..

I wanted to cry, for various reasons:

First – finally, it was the collection I was waiting since the appearance of VETEMENTS in fashion scene and I was absolutely sure it would happen once! Second - it felt so emotional to see someone pay tribute for my (and his) native country. And the 3rd that I’m an asshole and did not stay for few more days to attend such a historical and monumental show! Cause I was in Paris days before the show but could not stay for additional 3 days (I could manage to attend the show), because I spent all my money at shopping (mostly on VETEMENTS actually!) and did not spare more for 10 minute event, which I regret now VERY VERY VERY much!

It might be hard for someone, non-Georgian, to share same excitement as I have for this particular collection, but it’s definitely a moment which made even most non-fashion-related Georgians interested and very proud. It quickly became a major news for local tv and online media. As more facts became clear, it felt even more special for all of us – appears majority of the models were just regular Georgian boys and girls, selected by VETEMENTS casting directors right here, in the streets of Tbilisi. Collection featured some fresh “ugly” sneakers, signature dad shoes and combat boots, 

various tailored pieces (my favorite VETEMENTS category), 

some white hand-painted “graduation” shirts  (which were actually painted in Tbilisi by locals, in various night clubs), 

opening model wore a nude shirt covered with the types of tattoos Georgian prisoners would get to flaunt their mob ties, 

there was a signature Alpha Industries bomber with a message -  “We dance together, we fight together” -  dedicated to the police raids held few weeks before the show in most famous local night clubs here “BASSIANI” and “CAFE GALLERY” and a massive two-day rave at the center of the city with the same slogan as above. 

Leather jackets and suits were finished with zip up hoodies, masks, covering the faces of the models (as a symbol of unknown or no identities), 

target prints symbolized the bullets that were once aimed at Georgia. 

Georgian flag was seen in various colorways, including one in a rainbow - more or less provocative for local standards. 

Besides the floral dresses (already a strong brand signature), we have seen a fabulous wedding gown at the finale of the show (worn with some classic white pumps, while some other variations featured a upside down Eiffel tower as heel) 

and one off special maxi skirt, painted by Demna himself, and will retail for around 15 000 EUR (pictured below).

Finale of the show has brought highest emotions: it featured modernized version of Georgian national dance music and with all the Georgian models walking on this imaginary “wedding table” wearing Georgian alphabet features on that music, in Paris, on the center of fashion’s most important players, was just…terrific!

WATCH THE FULL SHOW 

In a post-show interviews, VETEMETNS creative director Demna Gvasalia said:  “I went back to my past in Georgia to face my fears and painful moments…like post Civil war and everything there in the ’90s, and I made the most personal kind of fashion proposition out of that. My house was bombed and it was destroyed. My grandmother, for one week, she didn’t have memory. These are all the things that influenced me, experiencing that when I was a child. I feel everybody today talks about war, refugees (and the show was held on 19th Arrondisement of Paris, which is now surrounded by refugees). And I am like, yes, I know exactly what that means. It's weird. This is about my life, but also it's about everything you see on CNN, as well," said the designer.

Here’s what’s behind the story: Sukhumi (Demna’s and his family’s hometown, capital of Abkhazia region, now occupied by Russia, for more than 25 years) was one of the epicenters of the Georgian Civil War at the beginning of 90’s. A strong ethnical conflicts have resulted into 30,000 killed humans and around 250 000 refugees – including Gvasalia and his family (here’s full story behind the Civil War). Also, here you can listen an exclusive rare radio interview with Demna via Radio Tavisupleba.  

For me (and my entire nation), as a Georgian (even if I was just 1 or 2 years old during that Civil war), it’s very important to spread the message to the world what was our past and how we have come to the present times, what my parents and grandparents generation had to overcome to make Georgia a safe place to live. Demna has went through his entire youth traumas and came out with the most sensational VETEMENTS collection to date.

Besides all the Georgia-inspired pieces (which were mostly VETEMENTS classic fits, hoodies, oversized silhouettes and deconstructed denim) there were Russian, Ukrainian, Turkish (also a homage to Demna’s mother heritage) and US flag anoraks featured. These are countries that mostly influenced and affected Georgia (and Demna himself in various aspects) over the years, especially after 90s’ post-soviet era. Featuring Russian flag has actually generated mixed emotions between locals in Georgia (as I mentioned it became a major discussion topic in social media for a few days) with some mentioning that it kinda ruined entire thing and putting a huge flag of the country who has 20% of Georgia occupied (and continues to grow this share) was unnecessary and it at least should feature some protest slogans. I think (and majority) it actually felt absolutely right and genius to put a Russian flag on this specific collection, since if you want to tell us about the history of Georgia, it’s just impossible to miss Russian Federation and all its activities against us.

As for the cast, those 40 people, that Demna and VETEMENTS guys brought from Georgia, he said: ���They represent for me what I represented when I came to Europe years ago - that certain naivety and voice they don’t think they have in their country”. I’ve asked some of the guys after they got back to Tbilisi (cause they are all friends of friends), what did they feel about the entire thing, some of them had just same feelings as me, some mentioned that they still didn’t filter in their mind how and what happened to them, since for majority it was not only first runway show ever, but first touch to the fashion industry, overall. But all of them were proud that they now became kinda part of the history.

It was a 10th collection of VETEMENTS, it will be hard to name brands that gained such an incredible success in such a short time and had influenced not only young but many of the well-established labels. Demna is a so-called “Margiela kid” himself (and that sensational Margiela exhibition at Palais Galliera in Paris is a proof of that) and he even mentioned how he got back to his design roots with its previous collection, entitled “The Elephant in the Room” (FALL-WINTER 2018, see here) where he has fully exploded what he does the best (some of the buyers and editors mentioned with me that label was kind of “back on track” with that collection, after not so-satisfying SS 2018, which was just re-edition collection, see my visit to the presentation here). And this latest “Georgia” collection was a continuation of his growing personal approach to the clothes: “It’s a very different way of working for me because I always did shows that were just about clothes…nothing else really mattered for me. But I think I’ve changed and probably my approach to fashion also changed. My interests changed. I realized that I need some storytelling next to making just clothes. Last season, it was going back to understand my creative roots. That’s why there was an elephant in the room, the whole Margiela, questioning creativity. This season I went back to my actual roots, which is this country that is troubled and that really shaped me creatively and also who I am.” – Demna said.

As VETEMENTS CEO Guram Gvasalia mentioned, they have sold more of this collection than any other recent ones (and even Demna told that once he made his personal order of the collection, he found it was biggest to date), which is very interesting for me, since it means that spreading the message (and not just selling a garment) is a cruicial part. Me and my natives have already been shocked or made fun of fashionistas from around the world wearing our grandparent’s wardrobe inspired clothes (that can be also found at second hand markets for 500 times cheaper than VETEMENTS), oversized outwear (that our parents were buying in bigger sizes, on purpose, to last for few years, while we would grow in height and weight) and table cloth print shoes, but I actually can not wait to see entire world wearing this particular collection pieces and I’m sure I can read a lot in Georgian during my next fashion week visits on everyone’s chests or shoulders.

One more note (just in case), I have met Guram year ago in Paris during their SS 2018 presentation and mentioned how popular they were in Georgia (I mean, they are! They have crazy fan pages and dedicated TV shows). Demna must be one of the most famous Georgians ever (on the international scale) and the fact of him not being heterosexual (and Georgia is known for its homophobic issues) does not affect the pride that most of the locals have (because of him)! After the latest show, I’m sure their fandom will double and the respect will move to another level, cause he is the man who could manage to tell the history of the country to the world, just in 10 minutes, without even a single word!  Below, you can see the guy wearing custom-made cap, outside VETEMENTS SS 18 show, campaigning for Gvasalia as President and I think it never made more sense than it does now, after the show. And btw, that guy is actually ME!

And here’s me again, with my version of VETEMENTS definition, that I made 2 years before the show to show everyone the native heritage of the brand and “translate” the word for them, during the fashion week.