#i do feel very uninspired by makeup these days.

[sixty-silver-wishes]

Original short story: On the Train

Georgia settled into her seat, her luggage stowed by her feet and a book lying unopened on her lap. It was a paperback romance novel- not the sort she found interesting, but that was why she’d chosen it in the first place. Mysteries and horror novels were all very well, but trains made Georgia anxious, as did any public transport, and a dull, predictable paperback was just what she needed to keep her mind off of things. She glanced at the cover, feeling her face heat up; she should have known better than to have something like this out in public. The picture was ridiculous- a man with plausibly photoedited muscles wearing nothing but a Scottish kilt leaned over a lady in a vaguely Medieval dress, which may have very well been from the discount section at a Halloween store. The title of the book, in flowery pink letters, was Decadence in Dublin- despite, Georgia noted, the Scottish kilt. It was quite an amusing cover, although sitting in the train compartment with nothing but the Photoshopped lovers for company, Georgia felt the opposite of amused.

What if someone came into her train compartment and saw her reading it? What sort of things would they think of her? They’d think she was one of those silly women, she thought, who actually enjoyed paperback romance novels. I’ll have to make a point of not enjoying it, then, she thought, and wondered how to do that without coming across as childishly conceited. Or, worse, suppose one of the sorts of women who did like books like Decadence in Dublin came in, and Georgia would be forced into feigning interest out of politeness. What if they tried to talk to her about it? What then?

Suppose I don’t read it at all, she thought, but then she would have nothing to do but look out the window as the train was moving, and she would much rather subject herself to uninspired romantic drivel than focus on the lurching machinery beneath her, the dizzying blur of the outside world and the faint amalgamated chatter of the people outside the compartment. Sighing, she opened the book to the first page, gearing up to read all about Emerald MacMaureen and her unwilling betrothal to Prince Tobias O’Greenheart. 

It was going to be a very, very long train ride.

As Georgia turned the page, she felt herself shift, and the train slowly pulled away from the station like a lumbering beast. She inhaled sharply, and directed her focus back to the book, but was interrupted once again when she saw her compartment door slide open. Startling, she dropped the romance novel onto her lap, looking to see a young girl standing opposite her.

She couldn’t have been any older than ten or eleven, and appeared to be at that brutal, awkward stage of life where little girls thought all sorts of things about themselves that they ought not to, like whether they were too fat or too skinny or if they needed to wear makeup or if they’d be popular or if the boys liked them or if they were too old to play dress-up or believe in Santa Claus or if they’d ever get married one day or how many children they’d have once they were old enough. Georgia, at least, had all of those thoughts at that age. But the girl didn’t seem like the type to have any of those thoughts cross her mind, not even once. Her teeth were crooked, and her eyes were wild like two trapped fireflies. Dirt smudged her face, and her unicorn t-shirt was stained- with what, Georgia couldn’t tell.

“I’m sitting here,” the girl declared.

Georgia blinked. “I’m sorry?” “I said, I’m sitting here,” she said again. Before Georgia could respond, the girl marched into her compartment and sat down in the seat across from hers. 

Georgia looked down at her book, then at the girl. “Are you with your parents?” she asked.

The girl took out an opened chocolate bar from her pocket, crinkled away some of the wrapper, and noisily bit into it. 

Where are her manners? Georgia thought, watching her lick chocolate off of her fingers. Maybe she didn’t hear me. 

“Are you with your parents?” she repeated.

The girl looked up from the chocolate bar, visibly annoyed. She shoved it back into her pocket, as if Georgia was interrupting a particularly important engagement.

“I’m by myself,” she said.

“By yourself?”

“Duh,” the girl answered. “That’s what I just said.”

“Where are you going? Will you meet them there?”

“I’m not telling,” the girl said. “You’re a stranger.”

Georgia figured she couldn’t blame her for that; despite how confident and brash she seemed, it must have been very scary to be a child traveling alone. Hell, I’m scared to travel alone, she thought, and gripped the romance novel a little tighter.

“I’m sorry,” she attempted. “I was just worried about you; I won’t bother you anymore.”

The girl grinned, displaying gaps in her chocolate-stained teeth. “Course you won’t,” she said. “You never did.”

Georgia wasn’t sure how to respond, so she went back to her book. The girl pulled her chocolate bar back out of her pocket, and continued to gnaw at it. Georgia found herself growing annoyed; the girl’s lips smacked loudly, and the noise from the candy wrapper made it hard to concentrate.

I’m sure she’s not such a bad kid, she tried to reason with herself. It’s a big decision, going by train on your own, especially at that age. That’s not a good age to be at. She peered over her book to the girl once again, who didn’t seem to be paying her any mind. She’d finished the chocolate bar, and was preoccupied with picking at a loose thread from her shirt.

“Fine, I guess I’ll tell you,” the girl said, breaking the silence. “I’m going to my dad’s house. We’re going fishing on the lake for his birthday.” “Oh,” Georgia smiled. “That sounds nice.”

“Then we’re going to the movies,” the girl continued, “and then he’s taking me to the zoo. And then we’re getting dinner and then we’re going to grandma’s and then we’re going to the Civil War memorial and then we’re going to probably go fishing again, and then…” She reached for the chocolate bar again, remembered the empty wrapper, and defeatedly tossed it aside. “And then we’re going back to his house.”

Divorced parents, Georgia thought. Or at least, they live apart, if it’s just her dad. “I hope you’ll have a good time,” she said.

“Yeah,” the girl answered, and began fiddling with her shirt again. She pulled a sequin off the unicorn’s horn, then absentmindedly popped it in her mouth. Georgia averted her eyes once again, back to the romance book.

She’s having a busy week, Georgia thought. But at least she won’t be all alone. Sounds like she’ll have fun.

They passed through a tunnel, and once they were out the other side, the sun shone through the window on the girl’s hair. It was a pretty bright yellow, thick and tangled, the kind that everyone envied but nobody wanted to deal with. The girl chewed the sequin thoughtfully, although it obviously wasn’t a worthy substitute for the chocolate bar.

“I have a question,” she blurted.

Georgia put the book down. “Yes?” The girl smiled at her- the kind of smile a child beams when receiving the birthday gift they’ve begged for all year. A proper bath, a toothbrush, and a comb, and she would have looked downright cherubic. She wiggled impatiently in her seat, looking up at Georgia with her wide, innocuous blue eyes.

“How do you kill a man?”

Georgia felt her jaw drop open, and she blinked several times. The little girl kicked her feet in the air, rocking back and forth on her palms. 

“What did you just say?” Georgia said.

“They always use poison in the movies,” the girl said thoughtfully, “but poison doesn’t seem like a lot of fun. There’s no blood. He has a big toolbox- I could go in there and find a hammer, and I can beat him over the head with it over and over until his head breaks open, and then I can hit his brain with it too, until it’s all mushy- oh! Or maybe, I could find a saw…”

Georgia stared at the girl, dumbfounded and unable to think of what to say.

“I can also break up a bunch of glass,” the girl continued, “reeeeal small so nobody can tell. And then I can mix it in his food so he eats it and gets lots and lots of little cuts on the inside, but he can’t scream because of all the glass in his throat-”

“You don’t mean…” Georgia began, pressed against her seat, “you don’t mean your father, do you?”

The girl gave her a half-guilty, half-incriminating look, like she was accusing Georgia of ruining her fun. “Yeah, I guess so,” she shrugged. “There’s not really anyone else I want to kill.” She may be abused, Georgia thought. It would make sense- her strange behavior, why she was on the train alone, her sudden veer into graphic violence- children could have odd ways of processing horrible things they were too young to understand, and that may have been the explanation to everything.

“Are you…” Georgia paused, figuring she should choose her next words carefully. “Are things… difficult at home? You can talk to me about it; it’s all right. We can find someone to help you if you feel unsafe.”

The girl narrowed her eyes and wrinkled her nose, the side of her lip curling in a mix of disgust and confusion. “You think he’s mean to me, don’t you?” she asked.

Georgia shifted uncomfortably. “You were saying some pretty scary things,” she said.

“Hm,” the girl said, as if it hadn’t occurred to her. “I guess it would be scary, at least for someone like you.”

“You shouldn’t talk like that,” Georgia scolded, the barb incensing the slightest tinder of bravery within her. “If people hear you saying those things, you could get in serious trouble.”

“I knew you’d say that,” the girl said, folding her arms and pouting. “People like you always say that.”

I really should let someone know, Georgia thought. Someone who can figure out what’s actually going on. She wasn’t sure if it would be for the girl’s safety, or for her own. 

“Why would you…” she began. “Why would you want to- to do that?”

The girl looked up. Her pout transformed into a crooked smile, sunshine beaming through the gaps in her teeth. Georgia held her breath, bracing herself for the answer.

 “Because I don’t like fishing,” the girl said, in the same tone one would use to deliver the punchline to a joke.

Georgia, feeling herself prickle with sweat, laughed nervously. The girl laughed too, high and hiccupy and punctuated with snorting. And because the train was moving, and because she was so scared, Georgia kept laughing as well, and so did the girl. Georgia felt the paperback romance fall off her lap. The girl screeched with mirth, showing all her missing teeth. And they both laughed so hard and so loudly, tears streamed down their cheeks and they felt their sides hurt and each forgot exactly what it was they were laughing about in the first place.

[madsdawls]

Fearidescent Review:

Okay so I was really looking forward to this line up even more than the first Skulltimate Secret but ultimately I have some small qualms with the dolls as much as I do love them.

First off I think some of the stock photos for Fearidescent were very misleading compared to the dolls in real life I find this the case with Clawdeen and Draculaura in particular. The dolls in person don't have hair as neatly laid or bangs cut as nicely as the stock photos, the earrings on all the dolls slants out to the sides instead of straight down, and I think Clawdeen had the most deceptive stock photo vs real life her hair appears much shorter and curled in the stock photos but in person the doll has long mostly straight purple hair with curls at the bottom additionally Idk what it is but Draculaura's face in her stock photo vs reality looks so different to me. Basically this is what kind of hurt the line for me some of them were really giving Expectation vs Reality in doll form lol

Then some of the fashions just came off to me as really uninspired or repetitive considering people are paying $30 dollars plus tax for these dolls which is roughly $150 and up if you choose to purchase the whole line.

So with that in mind I didn't like:

Clawdeen getting all these corny wolf print shirts they're hard for me to style and for a fashionista I would like to see trendier experimental clothes for Clawdeen

The dolls limbs are on way too tight so popping their arms off to change their clothes is difficult for me and I'm worried I may break the joints holding the arms and hands together each time

Seeing that Draculaura's maryjanes have been reused from the budget day out doll and are just recolored sparkly pink

Cleo's yellow iridescent shorts they're just not it I feel like they should have used a turquoise or jade green for Cleo and made it a mummy wrap skirt because these are not flattering at all it almost looks like an oversized raincoat diaper to me.

It lowkey bothered me how Lagoona's skirt color doesn't match either of her shirts at all.

Despite all those nitpicks I actually mostly liked this line and I would give it a 7 out of 10. I really loved the jewelry on all of the dolls, their little ice creams, their hand bags were all cool and unique, and the glitter makeup was gorgeous, and I really liked the shoes too. Out of the 5 though I would say Lagoona was my favorite I think that her doll was just absolutely stunning from her makeup down to her shoes I loved the mermaid fantasy it was giving for me ♡. Imo I think Lagoona was the best one, Clawdeen was my second favorite, Cleo I loved but I wasn't feeling the gold lipstick and shorts, Frankie has potential but was a little plain for me personally I didn't like the goofy statue of liberty lookin crown or the plain second outfit, and Draculaura had cute clothes and I loved the pastel pink hair but I think her face would have looked so much better in the chinese variant like the first skulltimate doll.

[minatalks]

what were your hobbies when you were a kid? are they still your hobbies?

oh god soo many... i was a kid with adhd there wasn't a second in a day where i wasn't at an extracurricular or doing smtn on my own

i guess the biggest ones would be writing, drawing, video games, making movies, making presentation/writing essays for myself and kid drag

writing and drawing became very tied to a lot of trauma, so i steer clear from them, but i try to incorporate drawing/painting in other ways! like the sims edits and varnishing. i also want to try painting vases and things like that. obviously video games and i are still like this 🤝 making movies is a looot of work that i just can't do anymore and honestly i've been feeling a little uninspired with movies for years now. making presentations and essays isn't really a possibility with the cognitive decline and general toll my disability's had on my mental wellbeing, but hopefully that'll change one day soon bc i really miss it 🤞 and unfortunately my drag king career ended when my cousin stopped doing it with me, it's also a lot more expensive as adults and requires something called "makeup skills" which was never a part of the drag we did lmao

[dumbbitchfrommars]

sadness surrounds me. im stuck in the familiarity of longing for a time that doesnt exist. im running from the parts of me that are ready to be birthed, if id only break free from the idea of my reality. everything is possible, but nothing is possible, because i refuse to let go of what doesnt serve me. my biggest fear is losing when i am losing by holding on. im making choices in every second of every day. the choices are apparently easier because i get to control it, i get to choose that this is how i fail. i give up and fail instead of trying and failing. or trying... and succeeding. im afraid of the work it will take to win. but i know i will win. i always knew. so im afraid of the time it will take to win? im afraid of everyone wishing id lose already, give up already, because thats what everyones supposed to do? or im afraid of wanting myself to lose, to take the easy way out and become what they want from us. carbon copies, depressed, dreamless, uninspired, bored. 

im on the precipice of change. i either give in or push, push, push, that little bit more. europe. the world is waiting for me. my dreams are waiting for me. inspiration is waiting for me. love, laughter, light. adventure and excitement and that falling feeling when im in love with my life and simply existing. 

i know that i will make it happen. even when i doubt myself and feel like its hard and i want to tell myself no and i want to tell myself to be realistic or logical. LIFE IS NEVER LOGICAL. its not mathematics. its never that deep. its about my passion and my love and my drive and my dreams. MY FUCKING PURPOSE. i am going to fight and fight and work and work and keep at it even if it takes me years or decades, i will never give up because this is who i am. i can be many things at once. i am complex and my life is not following a linear path. i can be a makeup artist. i can be a bartender. and a dancer. a writer. a singer. a musician. an artist and a creative. a marine biologist. a dog owner. an animal lover. connected to the earth whilst a humanitarian and voice for the environment. i can be a 21 year old idiot who gets drunk on the weekend and kisses boys and gets into fights for the people she loves. i can be everything all at once and i can still be me. i dont know. 

i miss my baby girl but shes taught me to fight for the things i believe in. because my intuition is never wrong. i trust myself. i believe in myself. because even when no one else agrees, and they want to tell me im wrong, and they want me to follow their lead... theyll be shocked to find that i proved them wrong. theyll be surprised to realise... maybe they should have listened to me from the beginning. i am a leader too. i am smart and intelligent and clever and quick. 

ive spent way too long out of touch with myself. im losing myself. im losing track of what i was so set on achieving. the stagnancy and distraction has set me back, disheartened me and made me want to give up. its exhausting feeling like im getting nowhere. but im not getting nowhere. im exactly where im supposed to be. im making money moves. im preparing myself for the next phase. im readying myself for the growth, the transcendence, the upgrades and the magic that is about to take place in my life. i will make it happen. i will make it happen!. i just need a plan. i have a plan and its in my head and its going to happen. and i will not let anyone tell me no. i will not let ANYONE tell me no!

of course my mind has been wandering to the past, im trying to distract myself from my reality. its been a dark time. its been a sad time and a boring time and a confusing time. and ive been so, so, so hard on myself. i need to be nicer to myself. im sorry. im sorry. im sorry! i hate when it gets like this. but even when its really so hard, i like to think i remember it all works out in the end. cause everyone always works out for me. my little mantra. my little manifestation. plus i am doing my absolute very best. its hard but its happening. its hard but its gonna happen for me. 

im going to do honours. im going to go to europe. im going to change my life for the better. im going to pursue makeup and get a job in makeup. im going to express my creativity in my work. im going to get my divers license. im going to meet new interesting amazing people. im going to learn about myself. im going to figure out what works best for me. im going to get a new sexy slay tattoo. i respect myself so much more now than ever before. i am in the strongest most confident unfuckwittable version of myself of my whole life. i am embody the badass crazy intimidating strong and beautiful fiery ARIES WOMAN who is BROWN and full of RAGE who wont be the nice girl anymore. no people pleasing here thank you very much. 

[theoptia]

hi! xx i don't think you're into makeup as much anymore but did you buy anything from the sephora vib sale? any recommendations? thank you beautiful!

For recommendations, I would refer to this.

What I bought,

Makeup,

ROSE INC, Skin Enhance Luminous Skin Tint

ROSE INC, Number 3 Foundation Brush

Dior, Backstage Concealer

Lancôme, Defincils Waterproof — High Definition Mascara

PATRICK TA, Major Volume Plumping Lip Gloss in Beige

Danessa Myricks Beauty, Infinite Chrome Flakes Multichrome Gel for Eyes & Face in Sweet Tooth & Strobe Light

Fragrance,

TOM FORD, Soleil Blanc Shimmering Body Oil

TOM FORD, White Suede

TOM FORD, Soleil Neige

Miscellaneous,

Olaplex, No. 9 Bond Protector Nourishing Hair Serum

Farmacy, Honey Halo Ultra-Hydrating Ceramide Moisturizer

OUAI, St. Barts Cleansing Scalp & Body Sugar Scrub

[netleys-emporium]

How to feel more DA from the comfort of your own home:

> Touch up any makeup or put on some of your finest red lipstick

> Light a candle & put it on a windowsil (or anywhere it won't catch something on fire)

> Read something challenging during the day (Shakespeare, James Joyce & my boi Edgar for example) & something easygoing in the evening (Agatha Christie, Huxley, Stevenson)

> Make a cup of coffee or tea either in a delicate teacup OR a real heavy duty mug (it's impossible to look even slightly suspicious if you're holding a normal sized mug ¯\_(ツ)_/)

> Listen to antique records on vinyl. If you don't have a player, there are some amazing Spotify playlists to use!

> If you're feeling uninspired, change up your outfit! I always feel my lowest when I'm in my pajamas all day, so I will usually put on a pair of corduroy trousers with braces & match it with a spiffingly hefty blouse

> Look at Instagram or other tumblr posts on DA and see what you find! create a mood board on Pinterest if you so wish!

> Learn to raise one eyebrow- if feeling like a pretentious scholar is your goal, this small action is a must!!

> Reach your daily goal on Duolingo- while you're doing it, it may not seem very DA, HOWEVER, when you're done you feel accomplished & smart, which is perfectly on brand. Plus, you get to learn a little more of your chosen language every day- & one of those days you'll be fluent!

> Style your hair- if you have longer (and straighter) hair, I recommend an updo such as a Gibson Tuck. Styling your hair makes you feel elegant & improves your mood heavily! Nowadays it's rare to see me without my hair up

> Reorganise/ decorate your space- even if it's just a little change, such as moving the plants around your room, it's still a breath of fresh air & allows you room to think about more permenant changes such as new paint or furniture

> Carry a book with you anywhere you go- even if it's just to the kitchen, this action will totally make you feel more book smart! A spiffing one to carry with you is "Schotts Original Miscellany" as you can read about almost anything, from identifying cloud types to commonplace Latin. Its super useful to have in your pocket- almost like a pre-written notebook just for you :)

> Practice a creative skill- like an instrument, writing or drawing. This improves your DA levels for sure

> Improve your humour to be witty & sarcastic! You can pick up tricks from basically any witty (or British) show like Sherlock or Doctor Who, & when you have sarcasm and wit up your sleeve, you aren't just unstoppable, you're also turning into that pretentious scholar you've dreamed of becoming! :,)

I hope this helps some people! Have an amazing weekend everyone & if you have any queries feel free to comment- happy Dark Academia-ing :)

[ghoulia-yelps]

Ranking all of the Ever After High Apple White dolls!

Everything after my #1 pick under the cut :) 

1. Royally Ever After

I mean, look at this doll. She’s beautiful! I’d love to have this one, but sadly she’s very expensive now, even secondhand. Holy shit though, 3d eyelashes? That’s something that’s rare to come by!

2. Legacy Day

What can I say? This doll is just stunning, and she was one of the first releases too! Nothing to criticize or even comment on, just a really great doll.

3. Thronecoming

This is actually the only Apple White doll that I own (sadly), but she’s so detailed that she makes up for it lol. She really looks like a royal here!

4. Signature

God, it’s so hard putting her lower than the rest, but theres so many pretty Apples!! But this is her classic look, so I can’t not have her in the top 5. :)

5. Getting Fairest

This one is so simple, so really she shouldn’t be so high, but she’s adorable! 

6. Hat-Tastic Party

The red streaks in her hair are such a nice touch, and I’m a literal sucker for when dolls are wearing actual cloth SOCKS, it just shows how dedicated the designers were back then to making a high quality product.

7. Way Too Wonderland

I know it might seem like I don’t like her that much, seeing as she’s number 7 on the list, but oh my god, i love her. Its just so hard to number these!! Her dress is so fun, and rlly unique from the rest of these.

8. Mirror Beach

Gonna be honest, I really like EAH / MH beach-themed dolls. They always managed to make swimsuits that fit each character despite being so simple. Apples sunglasses and frilly black see through skirt here are just such a nice touch!

9. School Spirit

I really like this Apples makeup, but I really can’t lie, purple in her hair isn’t doing it for me. I know she comes in a 2-pack with raven, but it just doesn’t fit her? Anyways though, I love this doll otherwise, cute outfit!

10. Dragon Games

And here we have it, my “Least Favorite” Pre-Reboot Apple. I actually think she’s really nice design-wise, but the molded on leggings just depress me. Such a waste, her hair and outfit is so cute here!

11. Epic Winter

I’m gonna say it, the smiling face mold for apple isn’t THAT bad. When painted correctly, it’s actually very cute (as seen here). I’d love it if the reboot just had a mix of both face molds, depending on the theme, but alas. Anyways, SUPER cute outfit, if it wasnt for those molded on leggings, she’d actually be pretty high up.

12. Room to Study

I get it, i get it. a lot of her accessories are just reused from old sets, but still. I have to say- this is really nice. She’s even fully articulated! That’s a rarity for reboot dolls.

13. Sweet Treats

If she had some better makeup and hair, she’d be great. I love that apron! Plus, she has a BIG thing in reboot dolls: NO MOLDED ON CLOTHES! In all, this one has potential.

14. Powerful Princess Club

Let’s be real here, this was just uninspired. The dress feels like a cheap re-hash of Legacy Day, which i dont appreciate at all! This is the last Apple with some dignity though, and by dignity I mean articulation.

15. Budget

Oh god, not this. Such a dip in quality, and for what reason? Completely unacceptable, but at least her hair is cute </3

16. Ballet

Here she is... the worst Apple White doll. Not only is her shirt molded, but so are her tights, AND shoes. This doll is basically non-pose-able, and her hair is in the most uninteresting bun I’ve ever seen. Why did they do this to her??

And that’s it! This was really fun to do, seeing as how Apples dolls are some of my favorites in EAH, so it was nice getting to rank them. Hope this was fun to read!

[sanstropfremir]

I’d love your thoughts on BTS and their current image and music if you have them and aren’t afraid of the mindless internet hoards.

Personally, I liked a lot of their older stuff, but haven’t liked anything since I think the Fake Love promotions 3+ years ago. They’d started losing their personality and soul before that album cycle, but it feels like the sanitization of their image and artistry really kicked into hyperdrive after that. Now most of what they do seems like a sterile money grab driven by the Hybe hive mind which is a shame.

ok alrighty (cracks knuckles) let's get into it.

now that i've fully given myself a headache watching the majority of the bts videography, here are three points i'm going to cover:

performative character and the lack thereof

interesting aesthetics and the lack thereof, and

the inevitable cracking of perfection

ready, set, let's begin.

1.

idol music is very clearly definited by spectacle based aesthetics. and it's had that structure for its entire existence. so i gotta hand it to hybe for this one, because they managed to revolutionize being utterly fucking average. the triumph of bts is that they're just some guys and they look like just some guys. hybe found a niche in the system and then gamed that system to the tune of one of the largest musical acts in the world. they're not marketing bts as a romantic parasocial relationship, they're marketing them as your friends. and that is just as insidious to lonely kids as a run of the mill romantic fantasy. but that's not what i'm here to talk about today.

there's a pattern i find very interesting with bts mvs and that is that i don't remember anything about them. specifically, i don't remember the stuff that's happening IN the video; not the styling, not the setpieces, if i didn't know the members i doubt i would remember them either. what i DO remember, is how expensive the production is, and specific shots. i couldn't tell you what a single member was wearing, but i sure as hell remember that first upward angle shot of jungkook and the rusted park ride in spring day. or every single time they do that birdseye shot of jin in like every video. honestly as far as i'm aware jin has only ever worn a loose fitting beige longsleeve shirt.

it took bts a long time to establish any kind of consistent visual character. and the character they did establish.... i don't know if you can call a family-friendly-style clean aesthetic 'character'. they debuted as a hip hop group to little (comparative) success, and then made a switch to doing an early version of where they're currently at right now. if you've seen any of the mvs, you know that this is a pretty significant visual change. i don't think it is inherently a bad change, since the visual branding for hiphop based groups always tips over into iffy terrritory, but it is dramatic enough and early enough that it doesn't strike me as a natural evolution. concept switch ups are common, but they usually work because the members have established a bit of character for themselves, used their performance abilities and presence to fit into a niche in the group. the idol mould is perfect for showcasing the performers; that's its function. the groups that are the most fun to watch are the ones with stage presence, the ones who know how to perform, who can act all the parts they need to play. and bts? 4/7 actual performers on a good day. in my personal opinion it's 2/7.

i'm gonna expand on what i said about jimin here (this is technically the first part of this series), because it does apply to the rest of the group on the whole:

and i think here is where we see the main crux of the difference between taemin and jimin as performers: taemin has both an artistic and an idol persona. we know and understand him to do solo work that has a separate artistic meaning to just him being an idol. even though this performance was pre-move, i would still say this applies, because he's hot off press your number, where he's acting in a story based mv. jimin on the other hand just has his idol persona. he's not known for creating the same kind of storytelling that taemin is.

bts has been very insistent on the image of the group as a single unit. despite having the size of fanbase and the revenue that would make any official solo debut a massive success, none of them have done any substantial solo work. this isn't artistically a problem, and i think it's very admirable of them to be so dedicated to the image and the legacy of the group, when that can be an uncommon trait in the industry. i do however, think it starts to become an issue when we want to discuss what the artistic visions and images of groups are. shinee taemin and solo taemin have two distinct artistic representations, and taemin himself will attest to that. it's the same with all the shinee members that have solo careers, and the same with other groups. jackson, bambam, yugyeom, and jaebeom's solo work is all very different from got7. yixing's solo work is very different from exo's. even the subunits within exo all have their own character (cbx and sc). kpop groups all ostensibly are trained under the same system, so why the disparity with bts? mostly, it's their brand of "authenticity." it's impossible to perform authentically, by the nature of performance as a medium it is unnatural, and tragically, not everyone is naturally interesting, or suited to performing: that's why the performing arts even exist in the first place. it required painstaking training to be good at performing; it is a complex set of skills and those skills are not learnt by "being authentic." being an idol is not just the singing, dancing, rapping; that's only half the work. you need to be able to act to be a compelling performer. pulling your true self and emotions out on stage every night is a fast track to burnout and psychological issues, there's plenty of evidence. the only member of bts of whom i can say for some certainty has a persona and a stage presence is jhope/hoseok, a) because he's kept up a very specific brand in the solo work that he has done, and b) he has actual dance training, not just kpop dance training. the rest of them may have the kpop dance and the kpop vocal training, but what they do not have is the ability to market themselves as compelling performers on stage. taehyung is the only other member i would hesitantly give a semblance of persona and ability to, but i think he stumbled onto that mostly by accident. and if all the pieces don't each have a distinctive colour, how can the whole machine be visually interesting?

2.

bts may never have been able to establish an aesthetic brand, but what they did establish is an intellectual one. if you talk to a fan, the schtick they give is that "it's about the lyrics." as noble as having an intellectual or cerebral message is, what does that look like? how do you portray intellectual on stage, on film? what about intellectual is interesting to watch? cerebral, by it's literal nature as a descriptor, is very difficult to communicate in visual language because it is internal. to successfully communicate cerebrality and intellect in a short form medium like music videos requires a deft hand with metaphor that can elude even an experienced designer. and honestly? i don't know whether to applaud hybe's visual team for being the most successful subtle contemporary designers i've every seen, or to decry them as worst kpop designers i've ever seen. maybe both. regardless, i don't think they're able to cross the gap.

there are exactly four mvs where i actually remember the content of the mv and not the frame it sits in, and those are dna, idol, the singularity comeback trailer with taehyung, and war of hormone. and of an eight year career......that's not very many. these four mvs have at least an inkling of interesting spectacle and character, but even then, it's still a stretch. there is absolutely nothing to write home about in the styling for dna, other than it's well colour matched. I don't even know if I should include singularity because it involves none of the other members. idol is probably their most interesting mv because it actually has alternative styling and varies (at least a little bit) from the standard hybe boom crane shot-that-shows-off-how-we-can-afford-big-studio-spaces-and-locations. the company and the group would be loathe to admit it, but war of hormone is a well designed and interesting mv for the time it was made, with a well crafted gimmick and some actual showing of character from the members. it was the start of a potential that they squashed quite quickly because it wasn't picking up in the hiphop-group-saturated market of 2014. but the rest of their mvs? remarkably uninspired styling. like it's truly impressive how boring the styling is. and like i've said, that is the triumph in their aesthetics: they all look like normal dudes (if you had professional skin + makeup techs looking after them for the last 8 years).

all of this is a carefully crafted image that's tailored to hooking an audience, especially an international one. the mvs are boring in the relative scale of kpop, but they're just different enough from a western pop mv to catch attention. and once you do sink a hook, there's a direct clickfunnel of content that bills itself on these men being "authentic" and "self-producing," which is a huge draw to international fans, because people are racist and believe that the kpop industry is a factory that produces idols like clones, where none of them know how to do anything other than sing and dance and all the music is just handed to them by companies. and they have SO much content that there's no way a new fan can get to it all in a timely manner, so they'll never have to engage with any other kpop artists' work if they don't actively seek it out. but that's another essay for another time.

3.

that brings us to current day, in which at least the last five bts releases have been in the same aesthetic vein of positive, sanitized, and pristine. i said it in one of my txt responses and i will say it again here: money scrubs the humanity from the aesthetic of living. minimalism is for rich white people. hybe and bts may have pivoted their style and brand directly into the lane of mass appeal, but when you pair that with the amount of money funding them, there's a cognitive dissonance between the message and the aesthetics in which it's portrayed. some people do like the clean cut looks, and i won't say that they don't work, but as you've likely gleaned from this response, it isn't my style and if you've been around and reading my writing for longer you'll know that my tastes runs much closer to the messy and the weird, so very little about any of bts' visuals have appeal to me. i do find the contradiction of applying the appeal of radical relatability with the aesthetics of expansive (and expensive) minimalism interesting; it's an extremely fine line that hybe is walking and eventually they are going to tip over, the porcelain mask will not hold forever. maintaining the all ages aesthetic is going to be difficult now that all of them are grown ass men. with other groups of this member age and generation there's very obviously been a shift to a more adult tone, and not necessarily explicitly. got7, mx, nu'est, btob, shinee, 2pm, and groups that have older members like a.c.e and sf9 have all made slow shifts in tone that are undeniably aimed at a maturing audience: they know their core fanbases are aging with them and they (the fans) are not as interested in the 'boy' in boy group. and most of them have telltale visual styles, enough so that i can distinguish a specific group's mv. the last year and change of mx mvs have a very distinctive character; got7 too, since easily as far back as if you do. i can always tell an a.c.e mv by its impeccable fashion and formic styling, and although shinee has always had a more experimental aesthetic edge, their sound and voices are unmistakable.

honestly, i can't predict what bts is going to do in the future, but i personally don't believe they can keep up their clean aesthetic indefinitely without some fallout. part of the fun of following bands is watching them grow musically, and the last couple of years of bts haven't felt like growth. there are fans that have already started realizing it, and there's likely to be more soon.

---

the third part is here, which is a short followup about some of bts' industry influence.

[cdyssey]

Holiday

Summary: Grace and Frankie have a heart-to-heart after 7x03. | AO3 Link

—

Grace makes margaritas that night to celebrate Grankiekuh, the new holiday that she and Frankie just made up to celebrate the fact that Frankie doesn’t feel the need to make up holidays to avoid her anymore.

“You just squished our names together and threw the -kuh from Hanukkah at the end,” Grace accuses, chuckling. 

Light.

Playful.

Simply exuberant.

Just an hour ago, she was guzzling martinis on the couch with her ex-husband trying to figure out the quickest way to apologize to Frankie for a twenty-year-old mistake.

And now they’re planning a fake holiday together, and everything is somehow right in a world that also features her current husband sleeping in a jail cell.

“You have to admit—it has a certain ring to it,” Frankie hums determinedly. “We could be the new Shefani, the octogenarian Bennifer!”

“Well, don’t expect me to passionately hold your ass on a speedboat anytime soon,” Grace teases as she carefully measures tequila in a cylinder and then pours a little more than the recommended amount just to be safe.

“Nah,” her partner winks conspiratorially. “Just my hand across a candlelit table will do.”

And so they light a scented candle on the dining room table and drink incredibly boozy margaritas and eventually eat Del Tacos takeout that arrives half-an-hour late because the DoorDash driver couldn’t find the beach house. And Frankie laughs about Grace tearing the poor delivery kid a new one. And Grace quietly admires that Frankie still gives the twerp a twenty dollar tip anyway.

“At least he’s got a stronger constitution than Bugs Bunny,” Frankie snorts as she closes the door on yet another shell shocked human being who has encountered the wrath of Grace Hanson.

“That isn’t an impressively tall bar to surmount,” Grace replies, wrapping a fond arm around Frankie’s shoulders.

They talk, they eat, and then they talk some more when all that’s left at the bottom of the brown paper bag are tortilla chip crumbs. They talk a little bit about everything, really—the surprisingly pleasant weather these past few days, Bud’s apparent penis problem, Robert being useless at the dishes, and how delicious Del Tacos is. 

And between them, talking about everything is certainly not the same as talking about nothing.

Because even if they’re only talking about the weather or the dishes or the abysmal states of their children’s genitalia, it’s because they enjoy each other’s company enough to implicitly understand that it’s nice to just sit together at the end of a long, hard day and hear each other’s voices.

Because the little things are nice sometimes.

The day-to-day minutiae and routine of living with another person.

Sharing space with them.

Being present.

Being kind.

And in experiencing another’s unadulterated kindness, becoming whole.

When Grace gets salsa on the corner of her pink mouth, Frankie reaches over and thumbs it off with a kind of casual intimacy that was hard won between them, fought for and so lovingly, so painstakingly earned. 

They love each other.

They’ve surpassed the point where they constantly have to say it aloud.

I love you, Frankie says when she takes extra care to clean the dishes just the way that Grace prefers—something Robert Hanson never quite learned after forty goddamn years of marriage.

And I love you, Grace replies when she unthinkingly puts Frankie’s phone on charge because she realizes it’s on four percent, and her friend can’t fall asleep until she’s listened to meditative whale noises on YouTube for an hour.

And I love you, Frankie doesn’t say when she extends her palm to Grace and tells her that they should stargaze tonight because “Saturn’s vibin’ in the sky.”

And I love you, Grace replies when she threads their fingers together so snugly that their rings clink and replies—without sarcasm, without judgment, without weight, “Sure.”

And I love you, they tell each other as they slowly stagger their way out onto the deck, Grace assuming the right cushion and Frankie taking the left, arm in arm until the very last moment when it makes more sense for them to let go, to find their own equilibrium as the sea breeze sweeps gentle fingers through their hair.

The sky is star-freckled tonight, blushing purple and inky blue.

In the natural silence that follows, however, the moon and the stars and the supposedly vibin’ planets don’t particularly captivate Grace’s attention for very long, so she finds herself staring at Frankie, who’s staring off into space, her tall features bathed in amber porch light.

Something has shifted in her expression in the few elapsed moments since they’ve been outside, her thin brow furrowed, a frown threatening to tug at her lips where there had once been an easy smile. Her slender hands are clasped below her chin in a gesture that Grace has come to associate with introspective thoughtfulness, tinged with a kind of subtle melancholy that Frankie has always maintained that she detests and tries to consciously avoid. 

“Frankie… are you—?

“We only fought for two hours this time,” Frankie interrupts softly, nodding towards the outdoor dining table where the Hanson-Bergsteins had yet another disastrous brunch together. (At least no one broke a bone or got hit with a wiffle bat this time.) “Ha, that’s a new record if I’ve ever heard of one!"

But the joke doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and Grace’s heart sinks somewhere beneath her ribcage. It throbs in her uncomfortably full stomach. She had naively assumed that three margaritas in a piece, the two of them could just skip the part where they rehash the day’s events and openly reflect upon them—but she should have known.

These emotional reckonings are Frankie’s chosen form of healing.

She’s always processed better aloud.

“Fighting with you is the most uninspired pastime I can think of doing these days,” Grace tells her truthfully. “I’d rather resolve our conflicts in five minutes than five hours, so we can catch Jeopardy! together without sitting on the couch in passive aggressive silence… I think we’ve reached a point in our friendship where we can do that… yeah?”

The question comes out a little more vulnerably than she would have liked.

Open-ended and hesitant, it requests an equally honest answer.

And while she knows that Frankie has no qualms about being emotionally honest, Grace also innately understands that she has chronically shied away from honesty about all matters pertaining to herself. 

(When she initially told Nick that she wanted to redefine their relationship, she couldn’t have even told herself what the hell she meant either. She supposes she wants to have her cake and eat it, too—to be in a relationship with Nick and go home to Frankie. But maybe that means she doesn’t really love Nick, that she’s just using him for the ample entertainment he provides: the romance, the easy companionship, the sex. And maybe, at the heart of that unsettling hypothesis, she’s just as much of a stone cold bitch as everyone around her seems to think. Her husband is in jail, and she doesn’t lose any sleep about it. In fact, in her queen-sized bed in the beach house she shares with Frankie, she’s slept better than she has in all the many elapsed and miserable weeks since she said, “I do.”)

“Of course!” Frankie exclaims, her brows arching in surprise. “You say tom-ay-to, I say tom-ah-to, and then we kiss and passionately makeup. That’s exactly where we are nowadays.”

“Then why do you still look like a kicked puppy?” Grace asks shrewdly, folding her arms across her chest. “Or like Sol after his supposedly well-trained dog shit in his Birkenstocks.”

“Does being marginally tipsy on tequila count as an acceptable answer?”

“Nope.”

“Fine then and damn,” Frankie sighs, waving a defeated hand around the empty air. “But don’t hold it to me if I’m not making sense, Grace. I’m thinking rabbit trails tonight. And not, like, rabbit trails of criminally-tampered-with poop, but circles and other weird thoughts that don’t seem to be heading anywhere.”

“Hey, I'm not going anywhere—I’ve got all the time in the world to listen,” Grace replies easily, and this is love, too, without ever uttering the word.

Twenty years ago, she did everything short of making up a holiday to not spend a single moment alone in a room with Frankie Bergstein.

And now, she's done everything short of divorcing her husband to ensure that they're never apart.

Frankie's eyes briefly widen in pleasant surprise at this seemingly unexpected gesture, her parenthetically enclosed mouth curving into a gentle smile—tender and sweet.

Lord, she’s beautiful, Grace thinks to herself as Frankie mulls on her next words.

She thinks this at least twice a day and chalks it up to passive jealousy that someone can look so radiant without ever really trying, by just simply being herself.

“Mm, okay... so I was just thinking about how my thing might actually be worse than yours… and you killed my son’s beloved rabbit,” Frankie says bluntly.

And so clearly!

Like she already fully believes it.

Grace blinks rapidly, not entirely computing what she just heard.

“How the hell did you come up with that conclusion?” She asks, nonplussed. “Like you said, I killed your kid’s rabbit and lied about it for some twenty-odd years. You and Sol just played an elaborate game of hooky.”

Frankie looks torn on whether to laugh or shake her head in clear exasperation of Grace not getting it.

“But the ethical jury in the sky isn’t in on me creating a religious holiday just to avoid you,” she protests with a half-smile. “Or even worse, admitting that’s the reason after all these years. I hurt you, Grace, and I don’t wanna hand wave that away just so we can watch Jeopardy! in peace. I want to check in with you and make sure you’re really okay.”

Even after many years of slowly but surely becoming acquainted with Frankie’s uncanny sensitivity to her emotions, somehow, it’s always still a pure shock when Grace is met with the unadulterated and unconditional extent anyway. She’s still unlearning Robert’s idea of emotional care, which largely involved having a stockpile of generic gifts to placate her various moods and whims.

And frankly, she’s not the most empathetic woman of the year herself.

I hurt you, Frankie said candidly and made no attempt to defend herself, to excuse her actions.

I hurt you, she declared, and it was an I love you at the exact same time.

Grace can hardly swallow, her throat a hundred emotions thick. 

“Hey now,” she eventually rasps, “don’t go all revisionist on me now. I was so fucking mean to you. We don’t play wiffle ball anymore at waffle-and-wiffle brunches because I hit you with a bat.”

“You told me there was a bee in my hair,” Frankie rubs the back of her head wistfully. 

“There totally was,” she grins painfully, “but the bat was a highly unnecessary measure.”

“Grace!” Frankie groans. “Don’t get me sidetracked. I’m trying to be real with you here—I wasn’t a saint by any stretch of the imagination! I could be shitty to you, too.”

But Grace firmly shakes her head at this, her mouth pressed into a thin line, her rebuttal already locked, loaded, and innately known to be true.

“Not as often as I was to you, and rarely did you instigate because I’d already started it,” she insists, venom in her voice, raw and undeniable self-loathing. “If I’d been you dealing with me… God, maybe I’d have needed to make up a holiday, too…”

And even as she says it, the uneasiness in her stomach suddenly solidifies into sharp clarity and even crueler pain as she realizes what’s really been bothering her these past few days—a burgeoning feeling that she’s every bit as “harsh” and “vindictive” as Robert told the FBI lady she could be, even though she’s sworn she’s changed, even though she's wanted to be better.

God knows she's tried to be.

Because of Frankie.

Or maybe even for her.

The two reasons are interchangeable in her mind.

“I… I wasn’t like you, Frankie,” she eventually continues, glancing away so she doesn’t have to face the other’s expression—fearing confirmation of all her awful feelings, monstrously craving pity she’s sure she doesn't deserves. “Hell, I’m still not like you. The fact that my ideal marriage includes my husband being in jail more or less proves that.”

Grace Hanson doesn’t tip confused delivery boys thirty-percent after botched deliveries.

She doesn’t make up fantastical stories about magically disappearing bunnies for her kids so they believe in themselves.

She rarely apologizes for her mistakes.

And she makes a hell of a lot of mistakes.

“Robert called me harsh and often vindictive,” she chuckles humorlessly. “Well, I guess he’s got my number almost better than anyone.”

The ensuing silence following this proclamation stretches long and thin, like a tightrope strung precariously taut, and Grace is about to cave in to the temptation of looking at Frankie again when all of a sudden—

“Bullshit!” Frankie exclaims ferociously. “That’s a whole lot of bullshit, Grace Hanson.”

“Frankie, don’t defend—“

But she quickly reaches over and tightly curls her palm over Grace’s spiny knuckles, demanding her attention and getting it.

In so many years and throughout the span of them, she has been the only one to ever truly earn it.

Grace turns her head and finds Frankie’s oceanic eyes inches away from her face, storm-like in their intensity, piercing all over.

“Robert doesn’t get to use the present tense with you because he doesn’t live with you anymore,” Frankie insists when she knows she has Grace, when Grace can no more look away than a rabbit can actually disappear in a hat. “He doesn’t get to see you the way I do. And let's be honest here, I'm not sure he ever really has."

“And how do you see me?” Grace can barely breathe, only dimly aware that this is yet another needy question, one that can only engender a frighteningly vulnerable response.

Her heartbeat quickens.

She feels the exact striation of Frankie’s finger that is resting on the quarter of a million dollar wedding ring Nick bought for her in Vegas.

In the semi-lit darkness, Frankie’s sharply hewn cheeks feather themselves sunset pink. 

Grace blindly assumes it’s the humidity.

“As someone worth discovering,” she murmurs, “and by discovering, understanding that you’re a pretty darn amazing person to love beneath all those expertly erected walls.”

Frankie leans forward then and presses a chaste kiss on Grace’s head, quick and habitual, like she’s done it a hundred times before. Her floral perfume wreathes her like a warm embrace. Beneath the perfume, she smells like acrylic paint and sea breeze and strange but rich incense—complex and earthy and full of so many vibrant notes.

Heat rises to Grace’s face.

This must be the humidity, too.

“Some people don’t get that,” Frankie continues, moving back to her own cushion again, “and that’s their loss. They’ve never had to carve a pretty statue outta stone before, have never had to work on a relationship with you over time.” 

“So what you’re saying is that it takes work to love me, huh?” Grace raises a teasing eyebrow, even though she's not exactly sure that this is the appropriate time and place to make a joke. But the alternative to lightly joking is to internalize the words that Frankie just said, to truly contemplate what it means that there's at least one person in this world who'll wait for her—despite her many walls and damn them.

“It takes work to ever love anybody, really,” Frankie shrugs easily. 

It’s an unsurprisingly sage take—Frankie’s always been good at emotions and relationships and all of the other important and dauntingly human stuff—but it’s also one that gets Grace to thinking about Nick again, about his kindness and his persistence and about his dedication to wanting to make things to work.

She’s beginning to get an inkling of what it might mean that she doesn’t want to meet him halfway, kind and persistent and dedicated though the man might be.

That if she had to choose again between husband and home, there would be no contest.

There would be no hesitation.

So perhaps there are two people in the world who would wait for her, but of those two, Grace knows there's only one whom she would invite to stay.

“Happy Grankiekuh, Frankie,” Grace says, leaning her head against her best friend’s shoulder. “I like discovering you, too.”

“Well, you should! I’m a fucking delight.”

“Don’t push it.”

“Ha, never.”

But in the end, Frankie intertwines their hands together, and the silence of this action is its own unmistakable and resonant reply.

I love you.

Grace Hanson is loved.

[duxpuella]

Hi!! I’m not sure if you write for Chris noel but if you do could I please request some soft (gender neutral) headcanons for dating her?

Headcanons of little things Chris N. would do in a relationship with (gn!) reader

<Attention: Modern AU where Neil lives, and Welton’s a boys & girls school. Warnings: Fluff; Light smut in red (+16 content, TV-MA, if you’re under 16y or feel uncomfortable with the prompt please do not interact!); > Note: Y/n - your name/ Y/Ln - your last name/ Y/fn - your friend’s;

First of all, I AM SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG IT TOOK ME! I've been really uninspired in the past months and didn't wanted to write it half assed. Second, I wrote Chris as a Hyper Feminine girl and the reader as a Welton student, hope you don't mind.

Also, here’s my Chris playlist, hope you enjoy it!

font;

Dating Chris is fun and endearing. She's an energetic girl and will never leave it to get boring, it's like every day is a new adventure! She has soft hands and exploring touch.

Chris will show you her love by introducing you to her friend circle. She will invite you over to every party and walk with you side by side, showing you off to everyone! She's proud of the person she loves and is proud to have you by her side.

You can also expect her to make you the lead role beside her in her life, she'll ask your opinion on everything and encourage your participation in her activities (please go watch her cheerleading!).

She will dance, do skincare routines, shop, watch Netflix, and gossip on the phone with you. If you let her, she'll also love to do your makeup, nails, and hair whenever you're going out, and it's bonus points if you're matching outfits!

Gorgeous gorgeous girls love thrillers! And as a gorgeous girl herself, she's simply addicted. Chris can AND WILL talk for 40min in a row about her theories on different international investigative cases.

Here are the top 5 movies she watched with you while doing a face mask:

The Silence of the Lambs (1991), because you don't argue with classics;

Gone Girl (2014), and it became a tradition to play twinnem by coi leray at Amy's monologue about the cool-girl... GO BEST FRIEND!!!

Shutter Island (2010);

Disturbia (2007), and after this one, she elaborated with you how Mr.Turner was defeated by his own stupidity since he underestimated what a bored teenager is capable of.

Split (2016), she cried... a lot.

Her pet name for you would be accomplice, as an internal joke to the movies you watch together.

Chris is a very communicative person, so if something is bothering her you will hear about it. Don't worry, she loves to hear you too, go on and complain about that mean math teacher who didn't give you the proper grade, let her roast him for you.

She's also someone who will try to solve any problems that come between both of you through talking. But if things get nasty, she might get a bit sassy... be careful with that.

Also, she will not ask but PLEASE, BUY. HER. FLOWERS. I'M BEGGING YOU. And hold her hand, if you do the basics of chivalry I promise you she'll melt away.

She will notice when you're upset and simply spoil you. She'll drive to your dorm, pick you up, give you Starbucks, shop some new pretty things she knows you wouldn't buy for yourself. Then she'll drive you to her house and do a self-care day. If you wanna talk about it she'll be prone to listening, if not, no worries, she'll take good care of you anyway.

Chris sees you as captivating and interesting, she thinks very highly of you and tries her best to support your dreams. Her attitude towards you will always be of pride and excitement, she knows you'll go far and wants to contribute to your path (in addition to making it more fun as well).

She also loves to do the peck+giggle combo while caressing your face and glancing mischievously at you. She likes to tease and will go on as long as you're having fun!

Finally, she loves sharing the bed with you in your dorm room (her house won't do it, mainly because of her parents, but whenever she visits you, she'll share it with you!). It's whispering and giggles all through the night until one of you falls asleep.

Hope you like it! I take requests by ask! (info on requests);

Also, you’ll find more of my writing here.

[roguerogerss]

sunshine

Pairing: Laurie Laurence x Reader

W/C: 1.7k

Warnings: none!

Plot: Your love life is decided for you by your aunt, but that was never an issue to you until you met Laurie.

A/N: this is so short but it’s at least something? and i think it’s pretty cute. i’m kinda uninspired atm but keep sending in requests and i’ll give them a go! like and reblog if you enjoy please!

————

The sun was bright in the sky when she woke, the clouds that hung above her window looked full and fluffy and white. She'd forgotten to draw the curtains in her state of panic from the night before, and as she thought about what the day was to entail, that same panic slowly settled on her shoulders and she could feel a throbbing behind her eyes.

Wedding Day. Or, rather, arranged marriage day.

Y/N's mother would never have let it happen, but she'd passed when her daughter was only young and her father worked overseas for most of the year. She lived with her aunt in a cushy villa in the countryside, one that resided across from the field in which the March sisters spent most of their time.

That was how Y/N had come to meet Theodore Laurie Laurence.

Her love life had never been a choice that she'd had the right to make, with her aunt deciding who she was allowed to love for her, but that had never been much of an issue until she'd become acquainted with Laurie.

They'd met on the three year anniversary of her mother's passing. She was taking a stroll down by the brook to clear her mind, squinting against the sun after forgetting to bring a hat, and Laurie had gone rushing by and bumped arms with her on his way, knocking her to the floor.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." He had helped her to her feet and dusted off her dress for her, smiling all the while. It had occurred to her that in all of the time that she'd known Laurie, she'd never known him to do anything other than smile. He was like a ray of sunshine, always energetic and smiley and glowing. She often wondered how he managed to be so happy in a world that was anything and everything but.

By the time that she'd realised that she should've been out of bed and half ready instead of thinking about Laurie, her aunt was already bustling into the room, white dress in hand and ready to lace Y/N into a corset that felt tight and restricting and wrong. She rambled something about how Y/N should've already had her hair and makeup done, but her niece took no interest and instead watched as the silhouette of a seagull danced against the blinding sun.

Y/N's little concern for things in life that she didn't care for was what had drawn Jo March - and, consequently, her sisters - to her. Jo didn't care for social class or etiquette and paid little mind to the philosophy that women served the singular purpose of marriage, and Y/N was much the same. While her aunt was very much traditional in her views, along with most everyone else in Plumfield, Y/N was the opposite. Her aunt thought it was unladylike to let her hair down and enjoy life as it came, but doing just that had made Y/N the best friends that she had.

"You look beautiful, dear." Y/N's aunt commented, holding her shoulders as they both looked at Y/N's reflection in the mirror in front of them. The dress was cream, with a floor length skirt and circle and long sleeves, complete with small pearl details. It might've been beautiful, but Y/N couldn't shake the fact that she wouldn't be marrying the love of her life, but, instead, he'd be watching as she married someone else.

She remembered the day that she’d announced her engagement to the March sisters. They’d consoled her and allowed her to cry herself out, to the point that, when Laurie arrived, her voice was so thick and face so covered in tears that he’d insisted she lay her head in his lap and let him braid her hair. It was something of a tradition between them, had been from the first moment that they’d realised their mutual feelings and they were sure it would be as they grew old together - the one thing that they were certain of in life was that they would be married and they were more than okay with that.

“Tell me, my love.” Laurie had said. His voice was so soft and gentle and Y/N knew that what she was going to have to say would break him. “What’s going on in that pretty little head?”

She’d opened her mouth to laugh at what he’d said, but an unexpected sob had erupted and she’d soon found herself sat up and wrapped in Laurie’s arms. “My aunt she - I - Laurie -”

The words leaving her lips made no sense and she couldn’t find it in her to make sense of them. It had been hard enough for her to tell Jo, Amy, Beth and Meg, nevermind Laurie. Laurie, the love of her life and the man who she wished more than anything to marry and to love for the rest of both of their lives, and who wished the same. “Slow down. Take your time. I’m listening.”

Deep breath, “It’s Arthur, Laurie. We’re engaged.”

The light in Laurie’s eyes had faded and so too the sun in the sky seemed to as he held Y/N at arms length and watched her with parted lips and a soft pout. “What? You’re engaged?”

“Yes.” She felt so small. The word that she had just uttered was so small but yet it held so much hurt and caused so much hurt that it seemed as though it should’ve been huge. “My aunt...Laurie, she made me-”

She was crying again because she expected Laurie to leave. She expected that he’d pick up and leave her alone on the picnic blanket on the hill and forget about her. But he didn’t, he understood. Because Laurie Laurence seemed to always understand her, it was all of the reason why she loved him so much. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. Never apologise for something that isn’t your fault.” Laurie had said. His arms were around her and he used his fingertips to brush lightly through her hair. His words had stuck with her and probably would forever.

Her aunt had left the room to allow Y/N to fix her hair into an updo instead of leaving it in the tangled mess that it had turned into during the night. She watched her reflection in the mirror, and she watched as the door behind her opened and Laurie stepped inside.

“I know I shouldn’t be here.” He said before she could even turn around. Hearing his voice was enough to start her sobs again, his sweet and gentle voice, so much unlike Arthur’s which was cold and hard and unloving and unappreciative of her. “Oh, Y/N.”

Laurie’s eyes were watery and his bottom lip wobbled lightly, the sunshine and light in the world seemed gone because Laurie Laurence was not smiling and Laurie Laurence was always and forever smiling. But he managed to catch Y/N in his arms as she let her shaking body fall into his embrace. “It’s okay. Everything will be okay.”

“It won’t, Laur. Nothing is okay when we are not together.” The sentence wasn’t something that she had to think about saying, and was almost a surprise when it left her mouth, but it was more true than anything else she’d ever said to Laurie apart from that she loved him. It was all she knew, that she loved Laurie Laurence and that when she couldn’t love him nothing would be okay and the good in life would slowly evaporate until it ceased to exist.

“Then don’t let your aunt break us apart.” Laurie pulled away and cupped Y/N’s cheek in one hand. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes, allowing herself to relish in it, in him, for one more second.

“What do you mean?”

“Stay with me. We can leave right now, she won’t know you’re gone for at least an hour and my father will cover for you. I promise.” Running away from her home life with Laurie was something of a dream to her. It wasn’t often that she did things without seeking a second opinion or taking time to think about the consequences, but her answer came quickly and with seemingly little to no thought in it whatsoever.

“Yes. Okay.” She spoke so quickly after Laurie’s proposition that he furrowed his eyebrows as if asking if she was thinking straight. “Yes, Laurie.”

“Yes?” He hadn’t expected her to say yes. He was asking a lot and he never asked a lot of her, but she seemed to be perfectly okay with it.

“Yes.” She was smiling and so was Laurie. Everything seemed right when Laurie smiled.

“We must go, she’ll notice you’re gone too soon if we don’t.” Laurie held out a hand for Y/N to clasp in her own, a confirmation that this was really happening and that he wasn’t going to lose her, that they really would be able to grow old together like they’d so often spoken and dreamed about while laying together in bed when the stars were out and time seemed to stop because they were alone together and nothing mattered.

“We can go.” She spoke softly, unclipping her hair and letting it hang freely around her shoulders. “Laurie?”

“Yes, my dear?” Laurie reached behind her to loosen the corset of her dress. He knew how much she hated corsets - much the same way she hated being with Arthur and for the same reason - that she hated anything that restricted her and stopped her from being able to do as she pleased.

“I love you. I love you so much.” She could say those words a million times and never be able to convey exactly what they meant to her. She meant that Laurie was her happiness and her muse just as much as he was the bad days and the sadness. He was her perfect match in love and in life and her best friend all in one.

“I love you too, darling.” And the sunshine was back in his eyes.

[artificialqueens]

Modern Love, 1/12 (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex) - Ortega

fic summary: Brooke Lynn is a 23 year old graduate writing boring, uninspired pieces for the fashion department of a newspaper and living in a city all her friends have moved away from. Silky is living at her parents’ house and spends her days applying for jobs she’s promptly rejected for. Nina and Monet are struggling through their first year as teachers whilst being sickeningly adorable girlfriends. Akeria is pursuing her dream of being a badass lawyer, even if her master’s degree is slowly crushing her soul. Plastique is acting like the second coming of Paris Hilton, so nothing there has changed. Scarlet is overworked and Yvie is underpaid and their relationship isn’t all it appears from the outside.

And Vanessa? Vanessa is nowhere to be seen.

(A story about a holiday, a breakup, friendships and relationships in a post-graduate world, careers, navigating life after university, figuring out what it means to be an adult, and coming to terms with the fact that we really are not nineteen forever.)

a/n: welcome to the sequel to Not Nineteen Forever!!! i should say it’s not *~ mandatory ~* to have read the original before this but it’s encouraged huehue xo hope u enjoy and please feel free to reblog, like and send love!!

***

Brooke felt the all-encompassing sense of dread wash over her as her alarm went off, the sounds of the radio that were gradually fading in doing nothing to make the experience of waking up for another day of work any more palatable. She groaned loudly as she stretched, her arms flying out to the side and hitting the edge of the double bed. Brooke starfished a little, stretching her legs out as long as they would go and trying to put off getting up and showered for as long as she could.

Rolling over in bed she reached for her phone and stopped when she saw the rose-gold rectangular frame beside her on the bedside table. It caught her by surprise every day, almost a sort of routine in itself. A picture of her and Vanessa from when they first moved in, standing at the doorway having just popped a bottle of champagne. Brooke’s face was in a funny contorted sort of smile as she yanked the cork out of the bottle and Vanessa was clapping her hands in excitement, a brilliant white moonbeam painted across her face. Brooke remembered the day well. Monet had taken the photo with Nina beside her, both of them still in their work clothes after they’d visited straight from a hard day full of teaching. Akeria, Silky, Plastique, Scarlet and Yvie had all been inside, shuffling through the huge variety of Domino’s pizza boxes that had just arrived at their door like a deck of cards. That night had been so special. Whatever had happened since then, Brooke would probably treasure that memory forever.

In spite of herself she smiled as she looked at the photograph, then turned her attention to her phone screen.

No notifications. She didn’t know why she expected anything more.

With a cloud over her head that matched the ones in the uncharacteristically grey June sky, Brooke brushed her teeth and peeled her pyjamas off before stepping into the shower and adjusting the dial to somewhere between tepid and warm. Vanessa’s shower gel sat in the corner, the tropical fruit and mint one with little tiny sloths all over the front. Brooke found herself hurting as she looked at it, still loath to use it as she took her own from the opposite side and splatted a huge dollop into her shower puff. Sometimes she used it indulgently, like a secret she shared with herself. She didn’t know whether she’d buy more when it ran out. That was something she still needed to think about.

Once she was clean Brooke briskly dried herself with a towel, sitting on the edge of the bed wrapped in it as she carefully blow-dried out her hair. She picked out her outfit: smart black work trousers with a fabric belt that pulled her in at the waist, a black and white patterned shirt, black stiletto heels. As she painted some minimal makeup on her face in the hope it would make her look less like a sleep-deprived zombie and more like she had her life together in some way, Brooke checked the clock and cursed as she realised she was running behind.

Leaving lipstick for the moment, she grabbed her bag, shoved her feet in a pair of black pumps, and left hurriedly for the train. Breakfast wasn’t a priority; she knew she could grab an iced coffee and a croissant from the cafe in the station in between changing trains, as it took her two to get into work. It was times such as these that she wished she knew how to drive like Monet, Plastique and Akeria, or had learned since uni like Nina or Scarlet. But then again, cafe food for breakfast was one of the very few perks of public transport.

Brooke eventually arrived at the huge concrete block with windows that held her offices, taking the elevator up to the fifth floor, clocking in, shooting a lacklustre “hi” to the girls she sometimes chatted to and settling herself in at her desk. As office positions went, Brooke supposed it wasn’t awful- it was beside the window looking out onto the streets of the city below and it provided some much-needed light to her day. Logging on to her work laptop, she checked her emails (one from her boss about the article due for Friday, and one from Cheryl about money for flowers for somebody going on maternity leave that she’d never met or heard of and might not even have worked there).

Her working day had started.

University hadn’t prepared Brooke for graduate life. It hadn’t prepared her for the fact that friends moved away for jobs and houses and flats, internships and apprenticeships and postgrads and masters. It hadn’t prepared her for the fact that her group chat, once flooded with about a hundred messages if she so much as left it for five minutes, gathered dust as everyone’s lives took over. It hadn’t prepared Brooke for the feeling of missing out on something…Christ knows what. Perhaps living, making memories instead of simply swiping through ones already made on a Saturday night spent alone in bed with a bottle of wine to herself. It hadn’t prepared her for the yearning, the regret at having taken those days for granted when they were the happiest of her life and she hadn’t even realised it. If Brooke had known how soul-crushingly boring her life would be once she got that rolled-up piece of paper in a little tube she would’ve been dragging the girls out every single night. The all-encompassing sadness and longing for something better hit her harder on days like these, sepia ones with big clouds that hung ominously in the sky but never gave her the satisfaction of raining. She supposed that feeling had only been exacerbated by…

She didn’t need to remind herself of that.

It was ten o’clock in the morning and Brooke was staring out of the small office window stupefied with boredom when her phone vibrated. She jumped, pouncing on it as she always did whenever a notification went off. Her phone hadn’t been on silent for a full month. It hadn’t been the person she’d wanted or expected, but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

Silk: HEY GIRL LONG TIME NO SPEAK! I’M GONNA BE IN TOWN THIS AFTERNOON FOR AN INTERVIEW BUT I’LL BE FREE AFTER AND I’VE GOT A COUPLE HOURS TO KICK ABOUT UNTIL MY TRAIN. YOU WANNA GRAB DINNER? XXXXXXXXX

Brooke frantically made plans as if she was under a time limit, as if the moment would slip through her fingers like sand in an hourglass. She suggested some restaurants that she knew wouldn’t eat into either of their fragile graduate salaries and they settled on an Italian in the city centre, where the portions were big and the meals were tasty.

Brooke spent the rest of the day looking forward to meeting her friend. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Silky. Maybe it had been as long ago as New Year. Brooke smiled as she remembered the occasion; all of them cramming into Scarlet and Yvie’s flat to see in the year. Silky and Akeria had got too drunk off prosecco and screamed along to JLS, Scarlet and Yvie had both made a buffet to rival a hotel’s, and Nina, Monet, Vanessa and Brooke had all been tangled up in an almost relationship-ruining game of Articulate. Plastique had brought her new girlfriend Naomi to introduce to everyone and the girl had looked ever so slightly alarmed by the sheer chaos of everyone put together, but she’d laughed and joined in all the same.

That had been another happy memory. Those seemed to be hard to come by these days.

Work dragged. It always did. Brooke managed to write three sub-par articles that she sent to her editor at the end of the day anyway because hell, it was their job to turn carbon into diamonds. So when she hopped on the train back into the city, Brooke felt a little buzz in her veins that she hadn’t felt in a while.

It took her until she saw Silky standing outside the restaurant- hair in a bun full of flyaways, eyebrows still Sharpied on, in a pair of smart trousers and a floaty top- that Brooke realised that part of the reason she was so excited was because she’d been so lonely for such a long time. Well, only really a month, but it felt like a year. It had taken her living on her own to realise just how boring her life was without all her friends so constantly part of it, and now they all had their own lives and schedules it only served to show Brooke how empty her own was without…

Well. Without her.

As soon as Silky looked up from her phone and spotted Brooke her face lit up, and she fixed her with a smile and a screech that Brooke never thought she would have missed hearing but by God, she had.

“BROOKE LYNN!” she screamed, followed by lots of squealing and babbling as she wrapped the taller girl in a tight hug and refused to let go for at least twenty seconds. Brooke didn’t mind and she found herself clinging back, Silky suddenly the loudest anchor she’d never known she needed. When Silky finally pulled away she grabbed Brooke by both wrists, shaking her back and forth a little. “Oh my God, BITCH! Oh my God. FUCK! It’s so good to see you. How the fuck are you?”

Brooke appreciated that- Silky asking how she was. Yvie tiptoed around Brooke’s feelings when they texted and Brooke tiptoed around her and Scarlet’s perfect domestic bliss, both of the subjects too touchy for Brooke and the pair of them instead choosing to communicate via meme. Nina barely had time to breathe these days let alone text back, and Plastique…well, Plastique wouldn’t get it.

None of them would, she supposed.

“I’m…I’m surviving! I’m being an adult, I guess, and this is what life is now. How’re you?” Brooke swiftly moved the conversation on, and Silky took the hint and dropped both her wrists, pushing open the door.

“I’m on cloud fuckin’ nine girl. C’mon, let’s get some vino an’ I’ll catch you up on the world of Ms. Ganache! Think of it as a free episode of the reality TV show that is my life.”

“Let’s be real, Silk. If anyone’s life’s like a reality TV show right now, it’s mine,” Brooke raised her eyebrows, not quite committing to her own attempt at being lighthearted and instead couldn’t have sounded more bitter if she’d eaten an entire lemon with its rind on.

Silky, for her part, shrugged and let out a small sigh. “You ain’t wrong, girl, you ain’t wrong. But the offer of wine still stands, so let’s get sat. Where the damn hell is a waiter?”

They eventually got shown to their table and the conversation flowed frantically and excitedly, mirroring the wine. Silky filled Brooke in on every last detail of her life- most importantly, Brooke thought, was that Silky’s parents who she was back living with had adopted a cocker spaniel puppy called Pooch. Graduate life had been tough on Silky; she still hadn’t managed to get a job and so therefore couldn’t afford to rent a flat, so she’d moved back to her sleepy and uninspiring hometown. Living with her parents, she’d groaned, was beginning to chip away at her; the constant pressure they put on Silky to find a job, move out, get a boyfriend, and lose weight was beginning to grow wearing in the extreme, and Brooke didn’t blame her for being fed up.

“You know you’re always welcome to come chill at mine, you know. If it’s getting particularly rough,” Brooke suggested not-quite-casually, glad of the fact that loneliness didn’t have a scent because if it did she’d be reeking of it.

Silky gave a bashful smile, looking down at her half-eaten plate of spaghetti bolognaise in front of her. “You’re a doll, B, but you know I can’t do an hour on the train any time my Mama tuts at me buying a size XL of anything. In fact therapy’s probably cheaper than a train ticket here but realistically I don’t got the money for either, so…thanks, but in the words of Simon Cowell, issa no from me.”

“That’s okay. I get it, Mums are simultaneously the worst and the best people,” Brooke pulled a face. Thinking about her Mum made her wonder when the last time she texted her was. She felt a little ashamed for not knowing off the top of her head. “But hey, at least you got that interview, right? How did it go?”

“Alright,” Silky muttered in a non-committal way. It was the most un-Silky response Brooke thought she’d ever seen her friend give. It was weird and unpleasant; the Silky from uni would’ve yelled the place down about how she’d aced it, how they’d make her the chief editor right there and then, how she could write an article for them entirely in Wingdings and it’d still be the best thing they’d read all day.

Seemingly picking up on Brooke’s discomfort, Silky gave a small laugh. “I don’ know, boo…I used to be so sure of myself, I used to be so set in the fact that writing was somethin’ I was good at. When I was a kid I used to write these fuckin’ huge stories…pages an’ pages long that my teachers would pull big overexaggerated smiley faces at an’ squeal over an’ put big glittery star stickers on. I thought I was somethin’ special. An’ then uni, y’know…I was a small fish in a big pond- hell, a big fish in a big pond- but I still thought I was the shit even when I got bad grades. I thought my markers just didn’t get it, that they were the ones that were wrong. But now it’s like…”

Silky heaved a sigh and put her fork and spoon together neatly on top of her half-full plate. “…I can’t even get a job at a fuckin’ local rag, so why the hell am I even tryin’ with the big city offices?”

There was something about it all that made Brooke’s heart break all over again, the way that life after uni had worn Silky down to the extent where she didn’t even know if she was good at anything any more, didn’t have much visible self-worth left. Silky had always been the heart and soul of their group; she, Akeria and Vanessa, and in the time it had taken between now and graduation Akeria had become the polar opposite of Silky- so completely embroiled in her quest to become a barrister that she barely had time to reply to any of them any more.

And Vanessa…well. She knew where Vanessa was. Or rather, she didn’t.

Greece was a big country.

“You’re trying because you’re Big Silky Nutmeg Motherfucking Ganache,” Brooke said with a determination she’d not felt in a while. “Come on Silk, you’re you. If grad life has broken you then what the fuck hope is there for any of us?”

( Any of us sounded better than me , Brooke thought.)

“Kiki’s doin’ okay for herself,” Silky shrugged, her downtrodden tone counteracted by the way she picked up her fork again and twirled a single strand of spaghetti around it, eating it once she was finished speaking.

“Kiki’s vagina-deep in a hellish and all-consuming masters degree that’s probably eating her up from the inside out just as much as everybody else’s jobs are. I mean, are any of us doing anything we actually like?”

“Nina an’ Monet? They’da quit by now if they hated teaching so much.”

“Nina West would join the fucking scientologists and stick it out just so she could say she didn’t give up. She’s the final boss of the term mama didn’t raise a quitter . They’re having a hard time, Silk. We all are. It’s just tough because we’re all so busy and shit at keeping in touch that everybody thinks each others’ lives are perfect but…they’re really not.”

“Yvie and Scarlet seem pretty happy.”

Brooke’s face took on an involuntary look of distaste, so irritated and bitter was she at the image of them and their perfect flat and their perfect jobs and their perfect coupley life. “They’ll have something up, nobody’s life is that perfect. Maybe their relationship’s secretly falling apart or…something, fuck, I don’t know.”

There was a beat of silence in which Brooke finished the last little pocket of tortellini she’d ordered and Silky twirled another mouthful of spaghetti around her fork. She chewed, then shrugged thoughtfully, her head tilting a little. “Y’know we should go on holiday. Fuck all this shit off for a week, get away from it all.”

Brooke’s eyebrows raised in appreciation of the idea. She and the girls had never been away together before and the prospect of lying on a beach doing absolutely nothing under the blazing sun was an inviting one. “What, a girls’ trip? Like in Sex and The City?”

“Mhm. ‘Cept we go on an all-inclusive to the Med ‘stead of Mexico ‘cause ain’t none of us can afford that shit.”

“Except Plastique.”

“True. Fuck that bitch. She could prolly buy Mexico.”

Brooke laughed and for the first time in a good few months she felt a little flicker of excitement lick at her heart, so much so that she could see her pulse race at her wrist. She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. “Oh my God. I’m so in. Let’s do it.”

“We have to get all the girls on board, though. Otherwise there ain’t no point.”

“Definitely. Where should we go? Spain’s always good.”

Silky had her phone out and was typing furiously. She paused as something presumably loaded, then her face lit up. “If we go the week after Nina an’ Monet finish up school for Summer we can get flights to Crete for £20 return.”

“Twenty, what the fuck? That can’t be right,” Brooke screwed up her face in disbelief, and Silky cocked an eyebrow at her as she showed her the proof on her screen. Conceding, Brooke shrugged. “That’s so good. I don’t want to know what that plane’s like though. They probably just stuff you all into a tin can and ping you into the air with a giant rubber band.”

Silky howled with laughter and thumped the table so hard that the wine sloshed about in their glasses, little tiny red tsunamis. As Brooke snorted in response purely to Silky’s own mirth, a small thought set off a little drip of dread that threatened to put out the excitement that had only just begun to burn in her chest.

“Where is Crete again?”

Silky let out an unimpressed breath from her nose. “Bitch, you got all the geography skills of a Love Island contestant. It’s just off the Greek coast. Kinda near Turkey too, but it’s Greece.”

Brooke felt her heart drop, Alton Towers Oblivion all over again. She blinked quickly, tried to hide her discomfort. “Well, we’re not going there.”

Silky gave a small sigh, a little hint of resignation or long-suffering to it that Brooke didn’t appreciate. But when she reached over the table and patted her hand on top of Brooke’s, she felt a little bit more understood, a little bit more validated.

“B, Greece is a big place.”

It was the exact same thing Brooke herself had thought earlier, except now it didn’t seem true. Now, with the prospect of going there, it seemed like the tiniest microcosm of society. The world was simultaneously too big and too small, and Brooke felt the cold drip in her heart get worse. “Silky…”

“Look. We ain’t exactly gonna pick the same place she’s at, are we?”

Brooke put her head in her hands and sighed. “She’s not there anymore.”

“What?”

“I phoned the hotel a week ago to try and speak to her. I was going to fly out, try and talk to her and fix things. They said she didn’t work there anymore. So I don’t even know where she is at all.”

Silky huffed, frowning and concerned. “I’m sorry, Brooke, this shit must’ve been hell.”

“You’ve got no idea.”

There was a pause as Silky pushed her food around her plate. “Crete’s small, but it ain’t that small. We still got a one in a million chance of bumpin’ into her if we go.”

“That’s still too small for my liking. Both the island and the chances.”

“Aight, one in a billion. Trillion. Point is, it ain’t gonna happen. An’ besides…” Silky waggled her eyebrows, flashing her phone screen at Brooke again. “Twenty pounds for the first week of the school holidays. This shit’s like gold dust.”

Brooke smiled slowly in spite of herself. Maybe Silky was right. And maybe it would be fun to swan around Greece, eat seafood and pretend to be in some knockoff version of Mamma Mia. Scratch that, it would be fun. She’d get to spend a week surrounded by her friends in the sun, which was what she badly needed at the moment.

Brooke was nodding before she knew it. “Okay, fine. Crete it is.”

“YES, bitch!” Silky cheered, loud enough to be heard by the entire restaurant and possibly the chefs in the kitchen too. “Now let’s get dessert. All this wine needs soaked up by a big slice of sticky toffee puddin’.”

It was easy to feel optimistic with Silky back being her loud and just-the-right-side-of-obnoxious self, and with a plate of tiramisu in front of her. But after they’d finished up, paid their bill and she’d hugged Silky goodbye at the train station, Brooke found the endorphins wearing off as she got back to her dark flat and into her cold bed. Maybe it was because she was finally coming down from the high of meeting up with a beloved friend, maybe it was because she knew she had another monotonous, greyscale day of work to get through tomorrow.

Or perhaps, Brooke thought as she turned over in bed, caught sight of the familiar rose-gold frame and blew it a kiss, she was simply missing her girlfriend.

If she could even call Vanessa that any more.

[flowercrown-bucky]

Trouble has never looked so good - But then again, it’s never been wearing a push-up bra before.

Fandom: 1970s!Loki Multi-Chapter

Pairing: Loki x ConArtist!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, drug references, later death, later smut, crime, loki and the reader are con artists..... It’s a wild one y’all, hold onto yo’ seats.

Word Count: 3084

[Something Wicked This Way Comes - Chapter One] 

Loki’s life on Asgard has become vapid; uninspiring. He’s got the taste for a little danger. 

During a trip to earth, he finds just the danger he’s looking for.

A partner in crime - in every imaginable sense. 

TAGLIST IS OPEN - EITHER COMMENT OR MESSAGE ME IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED. 

LIFE on Asgard was unbearably normal.

It was fine. If anything, it was too fine.

There was only so much feasting and so many council meetings one could take, you know?

Loki had stalked off to his chambers, muttering to his brother that he needed time to focus his magic.

He didn't, of course. Odin's lecturing on diplomatic decorum had simply become mind numbingly dull and it seemed like the most suitable excuse.

Loki's chambers were in a prime position. It was, after all, the reason he had coerced his older brother into switching with him when they were both around three hundred years old. He was roughly a hundred yards from the palace kitchens, something that well suited his secret midnight-snacking habit, and about as far from the Allfather and Allmother's chambers as he could possibly be, something that well suited his secret midnight sneaking-out habit.

However, the thing he loved most about his chambers, was the proximity to the palace orchard. If he stepped through the doors onto the balcony, he could grip the railings and sort of kamikaze himself over, before dropping the two-or-so-feet distance between him and the floor, and it was this that had made him want to occupy this chamber so badly.

He'd loved the orchard ever since he was a little boy. It was his safe spot, somewhere he had gone to hide from the world, where nothing could harm him or make him feel anything he didn't want to. He liked to take a book with him, and read under the shade of the apple trees until someone came to retrieve him.

It was here he had considered retreating to when he remembered the girl kneeling between his legs.

She was, Loki believed, a princess of Vanaheim, visiting Asgard with her father. Sex was not something that particularly concerned him, but he had left the council hall feeling rather frustrated, and the remarkably attractive woman had practically thrown herself at him.

If a beautiful woman desired to fellate him, who was he to complain?

It was, however, doing nothing for him - so much so he had forgotten she was even there.

"You can stop now." He wasn't entirely gentle when he tugged her off him, opting to do so with the help of a handful of her hair, but ,hey, he was extremely frustrated and she had been no help in the easing of that frustration.

"I can-"

"Nope." He waved a hand dismissively at the woman, leaving her to gather her clothes and dignity from where they'd been discarded in the floor. Girls were far more his brother's thing.

The only satisfying sexual encounter he had ever had had been on Midgard, some ten years before. Her name was Elizabeth, and she wanted to be an actress. With a head of carefully constructed dark curls and unusual violet coloured eyes, she was positively electrifying. She'd liked Loki's regal manner, assumed he was important. He'd been looking for a way to unwind and had yet to find it in a bottle of whiskey. They had, you might say, used each other equally.

He wondered what she was doing now.

Midgard, however, didn't seem like too bad an idea.

The mortals, he thought, were funny. Their funny little ways, their funny little habits, their funny little emotions.

He rather liked that idea. Midgard it was to be, then.

--

Las Vegas, was perhaps, the worst place he had ever been. Crawling with perhaps the worst specimens humanity had to offer, and drowning in immorality, Vegas was perhaps the physical embodiment of iniquity. 

Perhaps the underbelly of the world, Vegas combined all aspects of bigotry - racism, misogyny, pride. Men traded their lives away to pay to warm the sheets of women condemned to a life of misery, destined to while their days away in some clandestine pact with dingy hotel rooms. 

Not Vegas, Loki thought to himself. 

New York, he was not particularly fond of either. It was much too cold and full of self importance. The people were, largely, cold and unpleasant, and the food was something he could never get behind. 

Europe he had not visited for a long while since. It had been stricken by an unpleasant pox last time he had visited, covering the suffering with boils as large as the palm as his hand. He’d begrudgingly lent his healing skills to the ailing people. After all, he really didn’t like the smell of rotting flesh. 

 He wasn’t altogether pleased with the likenesses the people later formed in the name of worship.

In all honesty, they made him look rather greasy and weaselly.

—

Montecarlo, Loki thought, might be a little more interesting than he'd initially thought. Possibly, his favourite place he'd visited on Midgard.

It was like a hive of temptation, the culmination of human greed. Nowhere on earth quite said luxury like a city dressed to the nines, and Loki loved it.

It was far better than his previous visits, wherein he had found the planet stricken by various bouts of violence and deadly plagues. 

1973, with its penchant for sex, drugs and rock'n'roll was far more to his taste.

He had, in the short time he'd been in the city, become very well acquainted with the calibrate of person who liked to visit. Men with enough class to never let an expletive pass their lips within company, but perfectly happy to snort narcotics off the seats of public toilets using a ten dollar bill that was on its fourth use.

Women loyal enough to remain on the arm of one gentleman for the whole of an evening but not opposed to a quick fuck in a back alley from a tall dark stranger with a mysterious smile.

Sex was not something Loki was particularly concerned with, but he did enjoy the sense of power he got from looking directly into the eyes of a man whose wife he had made come undone not ten minutes earlier.

Humans, he noted, were no different to the savage tribes of Muspelheim. They just hid it better, under expensive clothes and university degrees and layers of makeup.

This was not something he necessarily was bothered by. He was having far too good a time for that.

Casinos, he had taken a real liking to. Money was another thing that held no meaning for him, but cheating pompous assholes out of what they believed was rightfully theirs?

That, he could get behind, and it seemed he was not alone in that.

He had been watching you all evening, as you worked your way around the room.

You were dressed to kill, and the man you'd turned your attentions to looked like he would gladly die if it would please you.

One hand stroking his *ahem* ego, and the other stealing his wallet.

You were perfect.

Mischief was on his agenda, and you looked like a wonderful accomplice.

He'd approached you quietly, a gentle hand on your shoulder, his lips by your ear.

"Well, hello." He'd murmured, as you turned to face him. "Who might you be?"

You'd practically preened at the sudden attention, clearly very pleased with the idea of a second conquest of the evening.

"Darling, I'm your worst nightmare." You bit your red painted lip, your eyes trailing the length of him. Your glance was cold, calculating - pretty much everything Loki appreciated in a woman. 

For a moment, he wondered if you were to kill him, how you would carry out the act. He felt almost as if he would appreciate it. 

You looked like a poisoner, he decided. Less messy, less loose ends to take care of. 

“And what, exactly, does my worst nightmare take to drink?” He could feel the smug grin growing on his face. “I am well acquainted with the torment of the unconscious mind.” 

You were taken aback, that much he could see from your face. For someone so experienced with hustling card games, you did not have much of a poker face. 

His smile grew. Unsettling people was one of his very favourite things.

“Champagne.” You still gnawed at your lip, but the reasoning, he could tell, had changed - if he didn’t know better, he’d think you were quite literally biting back a smile. 

“A lady after my own heart.” He replied. “You have good taste.” 

 “Only the best.” You lifted your glass towards him. 

“I’ll drink to that.” 

-- 

The course of the evening made abundant to Loki exactly how you operated. You were fairly certain you had him in the palm of your hand, that much he could tell - and it was certainly amusing to play along with it. 

You played your role well, and that was something he admired. You allowed him to lead the conversation, showering his ego with praise and affirmation. You fiddled with your hair as you spoke, twisting it around your index finger before draping it over your clavicle, trailing towards your ample bosom. 

You occasionally - intentionally - licked at your lip as you spoke, your tongue coyly tracing your plump bottom lip, tilting your head to the side as if to show how truly intrigued you were by what he was saying, exposing a good deal of neck in the process. 

It truly was a shame, he thought, that mortal men were unable to see the brains, the intellect, behind the beauty - or more specifically, the bust. 

Midgardian men were truly unable to see exactly what they possessed, but on Asgard, you would’ve been celebrated, treasured even, for the power of your mind. 

It was a great pity, Loki thought, and rather unfortunate for their wallets. 

You’d kept him on his toes since you’d first spoken. You were keeping him on his toes now. 

He watched you as you spoke to the woman next to you. You were so careful, every movement deliberate, purposeful. 

You played your part well. In a knee-length blue dress, you largely left the curves of your body to the imagination. The imagination, however, was aided by how the material clung to your hips and your more than ample bosom. Almost every male eye in the room was on you. 

You made your way back over to where he lent on the bar. You seemed to enjoy toying with him. As to why, he could not fathom. 

You waved a bottle of champagne in his face, before topping up his own glass. 

“Consider the favour...” You flashed a smile at him that was utterly to die for. “Repaid.” 

He ran a hand through his long hair, catching your gaze. 

If he was an ordinary man, he would be truly fucked. 

“So, tell me.” His voice came out as something closer to a purr than anything else. “How does a woman such as yourself turn to petty crime?” If it were possible to display every element of the spectrum of human emotion in one simultaneous instant, Loki was sure it would look very similar to how your face currently looked. 

Almost as quickly as it had come over you, it was gone. The mask returned and you flashed him a coy grin. 

“What gave me away?” Your left eyebrow quirked. 

“I’m perceptive.” He smiled. “You’re good, I’ll give you that. But I’m better.” 

“What are you, a cop?” Your voice was calm, level. It was almost completely impossible to detect the emotions behind it. 

“Please.” He scoffed. “I have a proposal for you.” 

Your arm dropped to your side. Your face remained unchanged, but the mischief, the slight twinkle in your eye, was gone. 

“Meet me outside the toilets in five minutes.” Your voice was hoarse. You turned away from him with a swish of apple-scented hair, taking a step away from him. 

He reached out, catching your wrist. You stumbled slightly, grabbing at the bar to steady yourself. 

“I’m not interested in sex, if that’s what you think.” His voice dropped. 

“Then what do you want?” You spun to face him. 

“If you show me, I’ll show you.” He grinned at you. 

“Show me, what, exactly?” You asked, intrigued. 

“Everything.” He whispered. His hand came up to your face, taking your chin gently inbetween his forefinger and thumb. He turned your head gently from side to side, before tilting it back. You watched with curious eyes, but allowed him to rest his hand on your forehead. 

He closed his eyes slowly, his consciousness seeping through his body, penetrating your mind. 

--

It was an odd place, your mind. He’d never been in any other quite like it. There had always been a lot going on, in people’s minds. They were.. furnished. Most appeared as a place, at least - a childhood home, a favourite place - but yours was remarkably empty. 

Enormous black units surrounded him, rows upon rows of boxes reaching as far as his eyes could see. The only other thing present within your mind was a chair, upon which you sat. 

It was tall and as black as the shelves. The back faced him, your legs slung either side of it, your elbow resting on the top. Your chin rested on your fist, and you watched him as he adjusted to your surroundings, one eyebrow bemusedly quirked. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” You smiled. “Sorry about the mess. I don’t get a lot of visitors, you know, inside my head.” 

Loki laughed. 

“Your mind is intriguing, little one.” He walked towards one of the units to get a closer look, lifting a hand to open one. It didn’t budge. 

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” You teased.  

“Just the pretty ones.” He tugged again, a little harder. “What’s in these boxes?“

“My deepest secrets.” You replied curtly. “How do you do this, anyway? You don’t get many people who can waltz into your mind uninvited around here.” 

“I told you, you show me, and I’ll show you.” He left the boxes, walking over to where you sat. He circled you a few times, looking around for anything else within your mind. “I am not of this world.” 

“No shit.” You grumbled. 

“Ladies first.” He grinned. “I want to know how you do it. Then you will get your answers.” 

“Then get out of my head.” You replied. “The only person in here to scam is you, and it’s not quite the same when someone knows you’re going to rob them.” 

“Very well.” Loki snapped his fingers. 

You opened your eyes with a gasp as he lifted his hand from your forehead. 

“Never do that again.” You warned. 

He chuckled, lifting his hand to support his head, looking at you expectantly. 

“I’m waiting.” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Where shall we start?” 

--

You leant across the table towards Loki. 

“That one.” You tilted your head towards the left. 

He lifted his head, looking up for the man you’d singled out. The ginger in the double breasted suit? The lanky blonde with the knock knees? The man bun? 

No. 

He knew the one. 

“Clammy hands.” He mused. “Look at the discoloration on the front of his trousers. The pigment has been lost from repeatedly wiping his hands on them. He has sweaty hands.” 

“Can I keep you?” You tilted your head to the side. 

“Why him?” He asked. “How do you choose?” 

“I don’t.” You replied. “They sort of... reveal themselves. They look at me. Stare at me. All I have to do is look back.” 

“And from there?” 

“The art of robbing someone just comes down to sleight of hand. Same as hustling a card game.” You glanced over at the man. “I used to do magic tricks with cards and make people’s car keys disappear as a kid. I picked it up from there.” 

“Impressive.” He leaned back in his seat. “Why do you do it?” 

“This world has not been kind to me.” You sighed. “Besides, life is so much more interesting with a little chaos.” 

He chuckled, placing both of his elbows on the table, hands clasped together in front of his face. 

“Do you fuck all of them?” He raised one eyebrow. 

“Just the pretty ones.” Your face cracked into a wide smile. 

He stared at you for a second. This beautiful, conniving woman in front of him, the poison that resided in your mind, the deadliness that lay in your hands. 

In all honesty, it excited him. 

You’d intrigued him since he’d very first laid eyes on you, and every moment since, that  intrigue had grown. Who were you really? What were you? 

For the first time that evening, it occurred to him that he didn’t even know your name. 

He got the feeling that if he asked, you wouldn’t tell him the truth. You weren’t that stupid. 

You were hiding from something, he was fairly sure. Being in hiding was something he was all too familiar, and if there was anything he had learned in his five thousand years of life, it was how to spot when someone was on the run. 

“I believe you are exactly what I’ve been looking for, little criminal.” He murmured. 

“And what, pray tell, would that be?” You pursed your red painted lips. 

“A partner in crime.” He replied. “A fellow mischief maker, if you will.” 

“You could be a serial killer.” You crossed your arms over your chest. 

“So could you.” He said curtly. “I entered your mind and you’ve just explained how you con and rob people, but yet, here we both still are.” 

You blinked, shifting so you were leaning on your left side. Your expression was thoughtful - you were considering his suggestion. 

“And what exactly do I get out of this deal?” You asked. 

“You saw what I did earlier.” He leaned forwards on his forearms. “I will open your mind to things you cannot currently even begin to comprehend.” 

“Okay. I’ll bite.” You lifted your drink to your lips, taking a sip. “I accept your offer.” 

“I must tell you.” He warned. “You will be playing with fire.”  You set your glass down on the table, before leaning back in your seat. You turned your head to the left briefly, tossing your hair over one shoulder. You crossed one leg over the other as you turned back to face him. Your eyes found his, a gaze that truly seemed to be looking into his soul, and you smiled. 

“Luckily for you, I like to watch things burn.” 

TAGLIST: @possessedjoker​ @amour-delicate

[brookelynndyke]

ok last episode,,,, let’s talk.

(SPOILERS) I’m breaking down a lot of the looks cause I like to think I’m somewhat knowledgeable on fashion. its really long but im hoping atleast my mutuals will read it

THE TOP: so like Gigi, Jaida, and Nicky literal beauty, like that was absolutely delicious.

Gigi Goode: omg all three of her looks were absolutely phenomenal. Her Lady Ballers look was one of my favourite of the night, the reference to heathers so smart and the construction of the blazer and blouse was so beautiful (go follow the seamster on insta @domingocholula). she really knew what she was doing with that one. next is her basketball wife realness and tbh it was the weakest out of the three but not by alot, the snakeskin jacket (go follow her mom on insta, who made it @kgeggie) and boots matched the long flowy black hair so well, and the reason I say it was the weakest is because she said it herself that she was “recently divorced trying to spend all his money”, meaning more independent and that does not fit the theme as much as others did. lastly was her balls to the walls eleganza that she made herself, and if you follow me you know that was literally my favourite thing in the world. her talent in sewing is gonna take her far in the competition, cause she literally sewed that in a day. the sleeves the skirt i just am crying. her faces were on point every runway and she deserved her win.

Jaida Essence Hall: how is she that pretty? her lady ballers look was so cute and i’m glad she’s able to let herself be silly on the runway cause her personality is amazing. i normally hate heeled sneakers but since her were plain white it looked great with the outfit. AND THE HAIR, idk what about it i liked so much but that ponytail moment was so cute. next was her basketball wife realness, that if I’m correct she made herself and when i tell you this was so fucking gorgeous I mean it. the fur on her shoulder and tiny fluffy accents on her shoes, shes so polished and knows her body so well. last was her balls to the walls eleganza, and lord!!!! the concept was so smart, and the matching hand bag with soap carved into it was amazing like periodttt, if I had to say one thing about it that I didn’t like it was the hair, I wish she had done either a wet hair just out of the shower wig or even changed the headwrap colour to silver like her jewelry, it would have made the look ten times better. i would not have been mad if she won this week.

Nicky Doll: I have a soft spot for nicky as a french speaker myself and I’m so glad she was in the top this week. her lady ballers look was unfortunately the weakest for me, although I loved the concept i thought it feel a bit short just because it looked very similar to her look in the first episode for the sparkles runway. but the way she served it to us on a silver platter with that WALK ugh amzing presentation. next was her basketball wife realness and OH MY GOD. this look was one of my favourites of the night it was stunning, she giving you “im from paris but fell in love with a basketball player when i moved to america and now i travel the world doing photoshoots and fashion shows. the red ostrich feather coat sold the entire look and honestly i want to marry that woman. (coat and jewelry were made by @onauratoutvu go follow!!) last is her balls to the walls eleganza and this was great by all means she had a clear concept in her mind and went for it, my favourite part were what she called the “marie antoinette” hips (great reference btw) that added shape to the garment. i can understand where people are coming from when they say it looks like yvie’s look from the farm to runway challenge but I don’t think there was any correlation. and also i think their personality critique for nicky was absolute bullshit but thats none of my business

SAFE: i’ll only be breaking down one look from each safe contestant!

Jackie Cox: i might be biased cause i’m canadian but that lacrosse moment was great, i was here for it. the socks were bedazzled and the jersey said beaver, her attention to detail is amazing, but I really want to see her stand out!! (go follow the designer on insta @daviddalrympleinc) 

Crystal Methyd: she’s such cutie, honestly. her bowling look was great and the references were smart, i loved the colour combo and hair.  i wish she didn’t change her makeup cause of michelle, because honestly it’s her face and like shes polished so why does it matter. 

Jan: her basketball wife realness was amazing. i believe it was a 13,000$ tracksuit by Thom Browne! like WHAT? first of all it was stunning and her makeup is always on point and i might just be a whore for chanel but the purse/basketball in a net was AMAZING!

Heidi N’ Closet: her last look the balls to the walls eleganza was... interesting. it was giving me alien something and she was showing versatility and i’m here for it. i think the purple and green colour combo was great but could her construction use some work yes, but overall proud of her for that being the second garment she’s ever made.

Widow Von’Du: sis isn’t doing it for me i’m sorry, her looks were all great but none of them stood out, she just needs to go one step further and they’ll be amazing. her lady baller was cute tho and i loved the lapels and collar.

Allison MOSSey: her balls to the walls eleganza was bad, period. it was boring uninspired and where were the balls. i enjoyed the other two looks so PLEASE go follow their designer and look past the person wearing the clothes to enjoy the designers art @florencedlee on insta.

BOTTOM THREE: i have some very strong opinions on this bottom three like many so just hold tight.

Brita: her first look was the best out of all of them which is unfortunate because i didn’t even like it that much. her second look was bland, and i get the reference but it could have been done so much better instead of this neon yellow fabric and giant hair. finally her... corn-apple, i have no words, it was poorly constructed and she deserved to lipsync.

Rock M. Sakura: why did she go home ugh, yes she lost that lip sync but she did not deserve to be in the bottom 2. her first tether ball/ball in a cup look(idk people are fighting over what it is) had such a great concept and the hair was AMAZING. i do wish the garment had been just as strong from the neck down but her face was stunning last episode. her downfall this week was her padding and how crowded her balls to the walls eleganza was.

Aiden Zhane: i- no. how was she safe. i have some respect for her lady baller look because of the concept, but the other two... the basketball wife one was not good and id not fit with her aesthetic, it gave me more crack whore who stole one of trixie mattel’s wigs. and then the balls to the walls eleganza was literally just bad. everyone put so much effeort into their looks and aiden glued some pom poms onto a corset and said “done”. severely confused as to why she didn’t lipsync. i know they want to keep aiden for drama but that was pathetic.

ANYWAYS... if you read all of this and want to see more just drop a like please and thank you

[hannahwaterman]

Documenting 7: Rituals

After doing a huge wealth of photography, and finding myself uninspired by much of it, I thought that I would take after Hannah Mullins from my course and give myself a word to use to theme my photodocumentation around: ritual. I also decided to create a more tactile, candid and personal feel to my work by using a polaroid/instax camera to take the photographs.

The word “ritual” has vast meaning and very individualised meaning to different people. It can mean a personal day to day behaviour, or it can mean something as big and bright as religious celebrations. It was interesting to talk to people about the word and figure out their take on it. 

In my day to day life I have many rituals. My morning walks; zoning out by cooking dinner; my daily skincare; having baths to calm down. I photographed some friends and their rituals, including my housemates smoking cigarettes, my friend Saphra doing their makeup. I planned to photograph my friend Maya, who celebrates paganism, practicing their religious rites, however, lockdowns prevented me from doing this and also prevented me from planning and executing other shoots. 

Instax photography feels very vulnerable and raw, it tends to have a washed out and sensitive quality to it, and it has limitations that make it candid by nature and therefore for a documentary project it felt like a very appropriate method of visual communication. I came out with around 100 images by the end of this project. 

I began designing my zine.

I chose to make an A5 zine because it is around the size of a standard diary or journal, so feels more personal and delicate than A4 for example. I chose the front Metallophile Sp8, mostly in italic, because it felt very delicate. I wanted something that felt personal, understated, delicate and informal, not too serious, but not overtly playful. I chose an accent colour of lilac / light purple to match the bathwater featured in a couple of the included photos. I used black over white to design the magazine, using my accent colour sparingly, and then in order to perpetuate the air of mystery and softness I wanted in the publication, I put over a paper texture which made the colours more washed out and faded the black to grey. 

I used procreate to create scribbled designs to give it a hand-made feel to go well with the instax photography. I worked hard to make every page feel different and intriguing within the rules of the publication. The text on the publication includes sections of dictionary definitions of the word ritual, and words taken from friends and acquaintances from mine who told me what the word “ritual” means to them, and if they have any rituals. I found a big variety of responses to the word, some even talking to me about their OCD rituals and how those uproot the lives of OCD sufferers. 

As an exercise in image placement on pages, I found the making of this zine very valuable, and I hope that the ebb and flow that I wanted to be read from it is there for the viewer. I think it has good pacing when read as a booklet. I am looking into making a run of prints of it. 

The front cover was difficult to come up with as I am always turned off of including too much information in a front cover. I kept it very simple and sleek and elegant. I think that ultimately I have made a very stylish and attractive, meaningful and communicative publication that I like very much. After seeking feedback from my peers I was met with mostly very warm praise for it. I am proud of the final product of this project.

[denikasopretty]

I am neither disappointed or surprised by the opinions and comments I have been seeing these days. I’m all for people showing their racism and ignorance on social media, that way I can SEE you clearly. We need to know who AND where they are! The comments are quite interesting. & yes, sometimes, I have to unplug. I definitely recommend that everyone try it periodically. Just take a mental break. I personally have been feeling so uninspired, makeup and beauty doesn’t even interest me the same way right now...I’m still working, just not in the mood to be posting most times. I guess that’s because I’ve been taking so much time to educate myself and be more aware. Well...I feel like I’ve always been very aware, but I have also always craved to know “more”. Which is another feeling that has been extremely heightened lately. And with that, comes a new wave of emotions, to be processed. Knowledge can bring on some very heavy feelings. One being the “burden” of responsibility. That call to action is a b***h ain’t it?! Lol. Thankfully I’ve been talking through things with my friends and loved ones and it has helped. Also writing, getting my feelings/thoughts out of my head and “onto paper”. Anyway...I do plan to get back to my videos and being more active on my platforms. Post all this content that’s piling up in my iPhone! So that people can see something else besides “news”. Positive images, get what I’m saying? (at North Charleston, South Carolina) https://www.instagram.com/p/CBgAkecpuB9/?igshid=14x8pt3r0lw8c