#making a progressive statement and saying that someone's clothes are out of style or ill-fitting are mutually exclusive

[sybaritick]

i am generally not a hater but my most serious internet beef is with that fucking fashion twitter guy (dieworkwear). EVERYONE is always POSTING HIM so i have to keep seeing it... WHY?! it's classism with the thinnest coat of progressive paint. And I don't simply mean "money to buy nice clothes", though obviously that's part of it, I mean that fashion itself, especially fucking Business Attire, which is what he is often posting about, is literally just class signalling. The whole concept of what you "should" wear season-by-season is very intentionally and clearly a class signal, the rich wear it first and they know about it by their proximity to elite tastemakers and once it gets down to the middle class and the working class something else is popular with the rich so that they can once again differentiate themselves from the "lesser" groups. That's how it has worked for centuries upon centuries. That's how it will continue to work. Class is not solely money, it is about the circles you associate with/who you know. I have no problem with posting about fashion and it's a subject I am curious about despite not knowing much of. I have a problem with giving it this progressive spin he's always trying to give it like right-wingers are out of touch for having a suit that fits weird or making bizarre/ugly clothing choices. The one who is out of touch is you. I know i have made a post complaining about this before but I'm doing it again because i keep seeing it!

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Nineteen | Temmie Village (Part 1 of 2) [First] | [Previous] | [Next]

Song Referenced

+

Temmiefied Version

Alternate Chapter Title(s): Stand by Me (no duh) or The Corny One With A Song Title Reference, Part 1

• • •

The shopping district’s as busy as the roads you’ve just driven by; food courts are the most bustling with the hour your phone marks: ten minutes past noon. Contraire to her punctual self, Brenda’s running late, though you settle for waiting ten more before sending her a message. You sit by an empty booth and take the last chair available in the row to avoid disturbing those who’re already eating. Then, you pull your planner out and skip through a few pages until you find the right one. Aside from your usual schedule, you had her visiting again this Friday, a meeting with Toriel regarding some plans she wanted to discuss with you on Saturday, and another one with Sans on Sunday to arrange the second step towards homeschooling Frisk while you enrolled them somewhere else.

It’s still hard to read that last one, not for what it was, but for the fact that almost every school you’d tried to sign them up into declined having other guardians aside from you and Jerry to pick them up. They declined Toriel just as much as they declined Undyne, all due to the new rules and regulations set up in schools since the monsters’ arrival. What Toriel wanted to discuss with you was related to that, though you hadn’t been given too many details as to what it was, exactly. You glance back to your phone to see over ten minutes have passed by already, yet Brenda's nowhere to be seen. You start typing up a message, only to be interrupted by her call; the device almost slips off your hands with how abrupt it is. 

“H- Hello?” you answer, catching your breath.

She screams an accusation at you, not an ill-minded one per se, but one questioning over why you’d kept information hidden from her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re that close to him already?” she asks, words jarringly loud. You have to turn down the volume despite it not being set on speakerphone. “So he's going to help you with Frisk? That’s serious boyfriend material, honey!”

Thankfully, she sounds happy.

Still, a correction's deemed necessary.

“What do you mean, Brenda?”

“Auntie Brenda, mind you.”

You huff and bring a hand to the side of your neck, tension consuming it. “Alright, Auntie Brenda… Where are you right now? I don’t have much break time left anymore.”

“Just go ahead and eat, dear. I���ll drive over on the weekend.”

Right as you’re about to complain over her choices, she speaks up again, calmer than before.

“Or why not come over after you have lunch there?” she asks, words cooed. “You work close to him, don't you?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll stay here.” You can’t help feeling a little sour over her suggestion and with the reminder you’ve waited almost half an hour for her at the mall. With the call, it’s now thirty-five minutes past noon, giving you barely sufficient time for you to eat -- let alone listen to her rambling over how she’d misinterpreted your relationship and how Sans was better than she expected him to be. “You didn’t bother him with questions about his job, right?" you add. "He’s-”

“Why would I? He’s working an office job just like you!"

“He, what?”

You can’t avoid blurting that question out; a blank canvas replaces the image of him working at a hot dog stand. You try to imagine him working an office job, but it's near impossible to. Even if he knew plenty on various subjects, the monotonous yet fast-paced ambience of a desk job didn’t quite fit with your view of who the monster was to you.

“He works an office job, honey. Don’t you know where your own boyfriend works?” You can almost hear her shaking her head, disappointment made known through the blatant change in her voice. “Shame on you!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and stand up, too vexed to sit still. “That’s not what I meant, Bre- ...Auntie Brenda,” you say, trailing off on your words. “I just… didn’t know he worked two jobs.”

“He does?!”

You lower the volume once more, Brenda's voice taking up a speakerphone quality to it again. Her tone then grows fainter as she questions the skeleton about the legitimacy of your statement. When her voice turns louder, you figure he’s given her an answer -- one you’ve no clue of. If he had two jobs, then you’re not so sure over how she'll be reacting. And if he didn’t, then you’d inadvertently put him on the spot by letting the truth known, something that didn’t really make sense if he was supposed to be working -- or at the very least, ending his lunch break right now.

Feeling it’s going to take a while, you stand in line at one of the fast-food establishments nearest to you; a growl from your stomach reminds you time’s running out. “So what did he say?” you speak up, knowing she’s getting distracted again.

“He does!” she exclaims, almost in a cheer. “Why didn’t you tell me he was that well-off, then? You should marry him now that you’ve got the chance to.”

“Weren’t you scolding me over the opposite barely a week ago?”

“Maybe so, but that was before I knew him better, dear!”

You roll your eyes and sigh, headache worsening. “Alright, I’m hanging up now. Don’t bother him too much, and stop interrupting his-”

“Wait,” she calls, excitement still there. “Have you ever thought of learning more about monsters? There’s a bunch of workshops going on right now… And I figured you could take one, since you’re dating one and all!”

Nearly the time for you to make your order, you let your tone become sterner, hoping to get your point across. “That… That sounds good and all, but I really need to go now. My lunch break’s almost over.”

Brenda huffs. “Fine.” Her voice comes out dragged, and it’s almost possible for you to hear her pouting. “But we need to talk all about this on Friday!”

“Sure. See you then.”

“Farewell, dear!”

You hang up, slip your phone back in your pocket, and turn to the register when you’re done, right on time to make your order.

• • •

Breathe in, breathe out.

You repeat that sentence along with those actions as you clock out of work, more than ready to relax, but less than capable of with how much you've left to resolve. 

Before turning off the computer, you click on your boss's e-mail for a third time today and read it once more.

>> Come to my office as soon as you're done with your shift for the day. I'll be waiting. – Sent from my ayPhone <<

You huff and glance at the pills on your desk. Despite these being given to you by the doctor herself, you're trying not to take them as often as the instructions on the bottle tell you to. You don't want to grow dependent on them, yet -- at the same time -- it's nearly impossible for you to go by your usual routine without having the repercussions of not taking them delay your progress. The side-eyes and looks some of your co-workers offer you on occasion reveal they're not too thrilled by the idea of having someone in your state around, either. Dizziness takes over and your headache worsens; they're enough for your body to finally give in, causing you to stumble out of your desk chair and direct all gazes on you.

Breathe in, breathe out.

It's just as impossible trying to ignore everyone, and it's even more difficult trying to stand up without making a complete fool of yourself.

Breathe in, breathe-

A hand's offered out to you; you accept it, yet you refuse to look at the person until you're back to your feet.

When you do look up, you recognize who the person is in an instant. It's the same man Sans had taken a picture with the day you first met. His hair looks different, but his face and clothing style remain the same. His hand stays holding yours until you assure him you're capable of standing straight again, and even then he still has his doubts. A subtle frown shows on his visage, fueled by concern.

"Are you alright, or should I call someone?" he asks, forehead creasing. "That fall looked pretty serious."

"I'm alright," you reply, managing a smile. You're still dizzy, the headache has only grown worse, and having people still looking in your direction doesn't help much with any of that, either. Even so, having him by your side along with a few other, approachable co-workers helps with bringing you back down to earth and allows you to find some more stability before going to meet with your boss. 

"Excuse me, (L/N), but��"

You turn to the voice to see a woman -- tall, pale-skinned, and dark-haired -- offering you your phone. It takes some time, but you're able to recognize her as one of the few co-workers you spent your lunch break with before Frisk went missing. She's as professional as ever, and her formality still shows subtly through speech, yet it doesn't erase how warm and genuine her tone sounds. "Your phone broke with the fall." She pulls her hand back as soon as you have the device in your hold; her body language reveals she has a hunch in terms of just how 'alright' you really are, and what a twice-broken phone in less than a year could do to your current, physical and mental state alike. "It seems like it still works though, since it was ringing just a minute ago."

"Thank you." You turn it on to view a cracked screen. The update Alphys gave it appears to have made it more durable, based on how minor the damages are compared to the first time it fell. You're capable of unlocking it and even checking your notifications to notice you've got a few unread messages from Brenda and Frisk's school, coupled with a missed call from Sans. That last one is harder to take in. He already knew what hour you clocked out, and he had enough common sense and decency not to call you unless it was an emergency -- unlike Brenda, who didn't really know how to read the room, and Frisk's school, which called only when it was absolutely necessary. "I, uh…" You're not sure on what to do first. Brenda could be easily set aside with what she did during your lunch break, but the same couldn't be said for everything else.

Breathe in, breathe out.

You flinch at the sudden sensation of needles on your forehead and a dizziness so strong and wild, it makes your stomach far too queasy for you to manage with. Still, you combat that feeling by grabbing some gum from your belongings, taking a few, and chewing them all at once. The sharp taste and scent of mint helps wash away nausea, yet the dizziness persists.

"Do you want us to take you home, (L/N)?" the man from earlier asks, sounding more concerned than before. Meanwhile, the woman approaches you with some water, one you accept and drink as quickly as it falls in your hands. They both help sit you down on a different desk chair -- one without wheels to prevent you from falling over again. Most have left, while some stay and try to offer more aid. Your boss stands by the exit, arms crossed, stance firm, and face hard to read with how bad your symptoms have turned. "Or maybe accompany you to the bus stop, at least? You shouldn't drive in these conditions."

"It's…"

Your eyes fall on your phone again, tempted to make a decision.

With your priorities now changed to the subject of your health, you set Frisk's school aside with the knowledge they're with Toriel at this hour and forget about the meeting with your boss, aware she's already seen you from a distance. Only his name remains; truthfully, you'd rather limit how much time you spent with him, knowing what the opposite did to your heart and mind alike. You hesitate and stare blankly for a short while before you click on his missed call. One tap and two rings is all that's needed for you to reach him. It takes a second for you to answer back at him, half as much as it takes for your hand to stop shaking and for your voice to gain a better semblance of strength. It's too late to hang up now -- and his call could likely be an emergency -- so you continue forward with it.

"You don't sound too great. Everythin' okay?"

"About that…"

You share some words with him and refuse to tell him of your situation until he gives you his own reason for calling you at this hour.

"...Why did you call me?"

"It's about Frisk, but it ain't an emergency or anythin' -- it's good news, actually."

"Then why did y-"

"Listen, I don't mean to be harsh or nosy, but you sound awful right now. I can give you all the answers you need later, but could ya tell me what's wrong?"

You heave a small breath and look at the time, along with the hour of his missed call. He made it around eleven minutes past the end of your shift, so it wasn't exactly interrupting your job, but you're not sure how to interpret his call and the fact it was his first occasion calling you so close to your work schedule. Even if you were overthinking it, you didn't want to overlook anything, either. And then again, the state you're in isn't really the best for you to be questioning every little thing about your relationship with him -- at the moment, of course. "I feel sick. Kind of similar to that day at the hospital." You decide to be earnest, regardless of how dry your throat feels and how fast your heart goes. "I, well…"

"Want me to pick you up?"

Your ears turn hot while your hands do the opposite. "Y- Yeah…" Your chest tightens and your words grow faint, until you continue with, "I need your help, teddy bear."

"Teddy bear?" he asks, chuckling.

"You're calling me puddin' now, aren't you? You're a teddy bear in my eyes, then."

"I wonder why."

You smile.

"...See you in a bit?"

"'Course. I should be there in ten minutes max."

"Thank you."

With that, you say your farewells and hang up.

Now left to wait, you put your phone away, pick up the rest of your belongings, and stay with the company of your two co-workers as you make it to the exit. Your boss is still waiting next to it, yet she steps aside as do other people standing nearby, providing you with space to pass by. She says nothing, so you stop for a second, only to have her nod for you to carry on walking.

"Come to my office as soon as you recover, (L/N)."

That's the only thing she says as the door closes, leaving you with one co-worker by your left and the other by your right, both waiting in case you were to fall over again.

Breathe in, breathe out.

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

Small but Important™ Q&A regarding healthcare and whether it's American-based or not

To clarify for everyone else possibly having that same doubt, based on a question made by a reader in terms of Chapter Six and Seven's events:

All healthcare/medical attention mentioned in this story is based off my country, meaning it's either free or at the very least, affordable enough that you don't have to choose between an Uber or an overpriced weewoo vehicle in case of a medical emergency.

For example: I pay only $10 for 4 different medicines I'm meant to take, 3 which are for a lifetime (example: thyroiditis), and the only thing my insurance doesn't cover is optometry, which is around $300 to $500 a year for a full exam and prescription!

Tl;dr: It isn't. There's no debt here so far, lol.

• • •

Tag List (Comment or message me if you want to be added to [or removed from] it!)

@the-simp-express

@nektotersh

@disastrous-l0vebug

@therealchickenjoe

@mintyflakes025

@pandaquick

@timelock97

@candle-creeps

@paperb9gs

@merak0

[thatiranianphantom]

Recappin’ Riverdale 1x03: Body Double

Episode summary:

I feel like this episode thought it was making this feminist statement, but it’s....contrasted with the whole rest of the show? Like, no. Women on this show are played as sexual objects. RAS has out and out admitted to dressing the cast, particularly the female cast, in provocative clothing specifically so people can lust on them. You don’t get to think you’re being so feminist and progressive when that’s disproven by every scene on this show. Betty’s FIRST SCENE was in a bra, and she was fifteen. Was that just...for comfort? Or maybe it was to say “come watch our show! We have hot young actors!”

Also I get a bit more in-depth rambley, under the cut!

- Oh god, I can’t even stand the voiceover. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: Jughead Jones is a TERRIBLE writer. He’s also REALLY fond of adjectives. And if this was an intentional character choice, it’d fit so well. It’s so like a teen to have this exaggerated sense of self-importance. It would make sense that he THINKS he’s a better writer than he IS. But that’s not how Riverdale works. Jughead is a writer stand-in, and they probably think the narration sounds edgy and profound. Look, voiceover narration is hard to get right. God knows I’m annoyed by Grey’s Anatomy’s voiceovers more than I enjoy them. But like, maybe go with the style Criminal Minds used? I always enjoyed hearing their beginning and ending quotes, instead of this hipster garbage. 

- “I loved Jason more than I do myself” we should have and could have done a deep dive into Cheryl’s characterization, instead of having Toni briefly touch on it. Cheryl does not have ONE stable, healthy connection in her life. She has ZERO reference for what a healthy relationship looks like. She has no healthy connections. Jason was the only loving relationship in her life, and I would not call that a healthy relationship. 

- That dress Cheryl wears. She has so many better outfits. 

- GREAT interrogation, Tom Keller. A+. We’ve saved a place in a line of Riverdale’s top law enforcement for you. God, can anyone get a decent sheriff here? I’m calling Nicole Haught. 

- God I feel so bad for Cheryl, especially in season 1. How she could turn out as she is now despite enduring nonstop abuse is amazing. And let’s be clear, Riverdale. The way she was treated is ABUSE, whether you want to recognize that or not. 

- S1 Alice was cold af. I mean, now, they really don’t know what they’re doing with her and never have, but she’s really rigid here. 

- FIRST BUGHEAD SCENE! I love that she immediately calls him “Juggy”. Inquiring minds want to know about these two’s past.  

- Girl’s done her research. 

- Honestly, did we think Jughead could say no to Betty?

- Tiny flirting. Love it. 

- Ah, retroactive parenting. The Fred Andrews MO. 

- Okay, I’m glad they redeemed Chuck. We all know how good Riverdale is with their POC characters. 

- Betty’s outfit in this hallway scene. Blue loose top, blue cardigan, jeans....this is a FAR CRY from her S4 outfits. 

- THE STICKY MAPLE. GOOD GOD. I THOUGHT I COULDN’T CRINGE MORE.

- I read a fic once, I wish I knew who it was by, where Veronica kind of took the “sticky maple” thing and ran with it, implying Chuck was...lacking, and he was begging her to take it down. I wish they had done that. 

- Betty covering her face in the locker room. I love it. 

- And thus we begin on teenagers being far more competent than law enforcement. 

- Okay so Josie and Cheryl are friends?

- Some proof that Riverdale doesn’t plan ahead:

Tony Topaz?

-  Ethel being the one who’s constantly screwed over. Need someone with a creepy Jughead obsession? ETHEL! Comics backs this so we’re in the clear! Need someone to fall into a cult and nearly die? I know just who! Need someone to be creepily watching other people’s sex tapes? There’s our girl! 

- Boys will be boys HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR THEIR ACTIONS

- Poor Camila. She does what she can with some VERY shoddily written dialogue. 

- Ditto Madelaine. 

- “I saw the way you looked at me” - Okay, Jug

- Archie did not have the black eye earlier in the episode and now it’s back? God the script supervisor must hate her job, her life, and everyone around her

- TREV. I hate people in fanfic making him out to be the villain he never was. 

- The Betty ballet bun. It’s adorable. 

- Josie is so freaking gorgeous

- Okay we also meet the Dark!Betty plotline this episode. What a super realistic, healthy, nuanced portrayal of mental illness. 

- You should know that I skipped most of the Dark!Betty scenes because I am just...disgusted with *gestures vaguely* all of this

- I ain’t going to say Alice didn’t deserve that punch. 

- Some secretive Jarchie. There’s a secret relationship AU video in here, if you edit. 

- “Slut-shaming. That’s what they call it when sluts get shamed.” THANKS ALICE. Would have been really hard to piece that together without you. 

- “Soundproofing the garage” Fred Andrews doing himself a favor. 

- Also skipping the grooming scenes. I don’t know how that wasn’t presented as EW as it was. 

Anyway, that’s episode 3! Hope my conservative estimate of one person reading this enjoys hearing my thoughts!