#my goth outfit line is small right now but I still think I can mix and match some pieces to make a fair amout of cool fits!

[ink-the-squid-gremlin]

Ok real question for you guys here: Would any of you guys be interested in seeing posts along the lines of goth OOTD? I know I’ve talked a bit about how I am a part of the goth subculture, but I feel like I haven’t really shown any of my goth fits on here! Even if goth is a music based subculture first and foremost, but I love indulging in the fashion (when I have the energy to lol) so I think I should share my outfits when I get all dressed up on here! What do you guys think?

[thorne93]

History Repeats (Part 9)

Prompt: Life’s hard, right? Well throw in a not so great job, a broken heart, and chasing a pipe dream in LA. But could someone come along to make all the bad shit disappear? Or is he just another heartbreak waiting around the bend?

Warnings: language, drug addiction, alcohol addiction, angst/heartbreak, adult themes (??)

Word Count: 2711

Note: Aesthetic made by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo because she’s absolutely amazing Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo . Brainstorming from @carryonmyswansong

**Song Inspiration: Delicate by Taylor Swift

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

A package arrived and you nearly screamed from joy. You unwrapped it immediately and grinned ear to ear. You’d had an idea some time ago, but had only gotten around to it recently. But now, you could put your plan in motion. Hayden would be home in probably forty-five minutes so you began to set out candy, cokes, and got the popcorn ready to pop with melted butter and salt on the side. 

Hayden walked in, looking beat and you felt bad for him, but seeing him was always the highlight of your day, even if he didn’t feel the same. Again, you were plagued with the question, how and when did Hayden go from he friendly face you enjoyed seeing, your savior of the day to the man you could hardly stand being away from? At this point, you didn’t care, you were just happy he was here, with you, whether he  felt the same or not.

“Hey! How was work?”

“Exhausting...I think I’m just gonna hit the hay,” he said, walking in.

“Wait! I have something for you!” you said, running over and grabbing his hand and pulling him on the couch.

He plopped on the couch, his head resting on the back with his eyes closed. “Ugh. Y/N, I’m tired. Can it wait till tomorrow?”

“Well...technically, it can, but I can’t! I have a surprise for you!”

“A surprise? What is it?” 

You grinned and pulled up a basket, the first DVD on top.

“Open your eyes,” you instructed. 

He propped one eye open to look at you, and when he saw you were holding something, he opened both and sat up. He looked at the object on top, picking it up. 

“In the mouth of Madness…” he said curiously as he flipped it over in his hand, then looked at the next one sitting on top of the pile. “Street Law? Y/N, why do you have old movies I played in?”

“Because we are going to have a marathon of your movies!” you exclaimed, giddy.

“What? Why?”

“Well...because I’ve never seen a lot of these. I’ve seen you in like two things, and I don’t think that’s right. I want to fully understand my roommate,” you explained with a beaming smile.

“We...You really don’t have to do that,” he insisted, getting shy as he leaned forward and started looking at the movies. “Wow. You really got all of them…” he mused, almost under his breath. “But I’m barely even in In the Mouth of Madness,” he remarked. 

“So? Your face is in it, so we’re watching it.”

“And why am I being subjected to this?” he asked as he fell back on the sofa and propped up his feet. 

“Because,” you started as you hopped up to pop the popcorn, “I need you here to make fun of you when you stay cheesy shit in these movies.”

“And how do you know I say cheesy shit?” he retorted, spinning to face you, resting his chin on the couch, looking more than adorable. 

You shrugged. “Doesn’t every actor, somewhere, have a few skeletons in their closet? I’m sure out of all of these films, at some point, you said something totally stupid, and it’s my duty as your best friend to make sure you don’t live it down,” you teased as you stuck your tongue out at him. 

Grabbing the popcorn, butter, and salt, you headed back to the couch and plopped down beside him, starting the first movie that was already queued up. 

The two of you settled in for a long marathon, and you got through several films, until you reached Life as a House, which totally blew you away. The opening scene of Hayden made you audibly gasp.

“Oh, my god, that’s you!” you shouted as you pointed at the TV. 

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point, Y/N,” he joked before you slapped his shoulder, causing him to laugh.

“No, you jerk. Like...That’s you! You look so…”

“Young?”

“I was going to say different. You don’t look much older than now. Oh my god, you’re such a brat!” you commented as you watched the film. Usually you tried to keep quiet during movies, but this was just too good and too easy to mess with him. 

“Uh, no, he’s a brat. I’m not,” he corrected, pointing to the screen and glaring at you.

“Well you play the part pretty well,” you joked with a sideways look.

“That just means I’m an excellent actor and I take no shame in that.”

“No one said you should.” At this, you stuck your tongue out at him. “I am loving the outfit,” you mocked.

“Oh, just shush and watch the damn thing,” he commanded, gesturing to the movie.

You giggled and quieted down to watch the film, trying to ignore the fact that you did really like him in this role. It was the first time so far he looked...of age. He had a goth look to him and at one time, you’d really been into goth yourself. He didn’t look half bad with black hair, but his blonde fit him so much better. 

The movie progressed nicely. You really did think he was acting very well, seeing as Hayden could never act half as bratty and annoying as his character, he made it believable. But then...at a particular scene, he was in a shower and your hormones started to stir in ways you wish they didn’t. If you’d been watching this alone, it would be one thing, but actually sitting next to the guy who was getting you hot and bothered, being your best friend, made it feel insanely awkward for you. 

It didn’t help then, that later, in the same shower, his female co star kissed him and he orgasmed prematurely. Regardless of the fact that it wasn’t real, that the character was facing embarrassment...you were highly aroused. The sounds he had made, the expression he wore, it was all dangerous mix of an aphrodisiac for you. Because like it or not, real or fake, Hayden had just made orgasmic sounds, and you hadn’t realized until that moment how badly you wanted to hear the real thing. 

Chancing a glance at him, he was sitting with his right arm resting on the couch, propping his face up with his cheek resting against his fist. He looked so...calm, and observant. 

“Are you okay?” you suddenly asked.

He turned to you, breaking out of his trance. “Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Well, I just realized, I never asked you if it was okay to watch all of these or if you’re comfortable with it or whatever. I just sort of made you do it,” you noted meekly.

“Y/N, it’s fine. It’s kinda fun reliving these films.”

“Good. If it gets weird or awkward or anything, let me know,” you assured.

“You mean because I just came on screen with you watching? No, not awkward at all…” he said evenly before shooting you a half smile and turning his attention back to the screen.

After the film was through, and you were done crying, you picked up your glass and went back to the kitchen for a refill when your hand accidentally knocked into the counter, smashing the glass in your hand to pieces. The bottom part of the glass broke off onto the floor, the top piece in your hand had entirely shattered, shards and pieces flying everywhere. When you looked down, your feet had tiny bloody streaks everywhere, and your hand had shards of small pieces of glass in them.

“Y/N?” Hayden said as he turned around at the noise. “You okay?” 

“Uh, yeah, a glass broke. I’m fine though.”

“Oh, shit. It's everywhere,” he said as he jumped up and came over. He picked up the big pieces and put them on the counter. “Oh my god. Your hand,” he noted as he looked at it. “Don’t move, you could get cut worse,” he instructed as he looked around at all the tiny shards. Without warning, he suddenly grabbed you bridal style. 

“Hayden!” you shrieked, scared of him dropping you, your arms flying. 

“Y/N, stop. I’m just carrying you over here so you don’t step on the glass,” he said as he got you on the sofa. “Don’t let your feet touch the ground. You don’t want to get glass stuck in there. I’m gonna clean that up and I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I can clean up a simple glass breaking,” you argued as you started to get up before Hayden pointed at you and gave you a warning look.

“Don’t. It’ll take like two seconds. Just sit.”

He ran to the closet and got the broom and worked on sweeping nearly all of the kitchen then came over to you, examining your cuts on your legs, feet, and hands. He was still in jeans and boots, so he had been safe from the glass, but you were in a shirt and pajama shorts, barefoot, leaving you open to all the glass.

His fingers traced over your feet, lightly touching up your leg, the sensation much stronger than you anticipated. You and Hayden touched all the time, grabbing his hand to pull him somewhere, hugging every now and again, hitting him playfully...But now, he was tenderly, gently, touching you, and shortly after that orgasm scene in your head, so your body wasn’t responding in the typical sense, sending a blush to your cheeks. 

“They look okay, nothing too deep, just need to be cleaned up. Where’s your kit?”

“I’ve got peroxide and cotton balls and all that in my bathroom, the bottom drawer on the right,” you informed, thrusting your chin towards your room. 

“I'll be right back.”

“Hayden--”

“Shut up,” he said without looking at you as he walked away. 

When he returned, he set to cleaning you with a wet washcloth, wiping the little streaks of blood everywhere, then used peroxide on all the spots that came back up, patiently, gingerly tending to your minor cuts, his attention seemed hyper focused on the task at hand. Meanwhile, your eyes were planted on him, watching him, drinking him in, etching the lines of his face, his fingers, his jawline, his neck all to your memory. 

Once your eyes hit his fingers, your thoughts went to places they shouldn’t explore, places that shouldn’t be explored. But, you couldn’t help it. Hayden was beyond any man you’d ever met. He was...everything you’d ever wanted from a man and more. He was a father, a caring, loving one. He was a best friend, loyal, patient, willing to listen to you vent and bitch and whine and complain on end. He was a hard worker, never complaining of long and hard days, not much. He was talented and funny and understanding. He was kind and thoughtful. 

You wanted to know everything about him. You wanted to share nights with him as well as days. You wanted to know what it feels like to greet him when it got home with a kiss, instead of a friendly wave. You wanted to know what it was like to wake up next to him. You wanted to know what his scruff felt like before he’d shaved in the morning. You wanted to know what it was like to call him in between shots and tell him how you loved him, how you wanted to see him.

Sometimes, you wanted to just pretend, even for a second, that he was yours. That when you were sitting together on the couch and his arm was around you, that it wasn’t a relaxed friendly gesture. Sometimes you wanted to pretend that when he walked in the door, he didn’t go to separate bedroom, that he joined you in yours...

You wanted to know if he felt the same. You wanted to know if you danced in his dreams too. If you plagued him at work. If you were an ever present force in his life as well. You wanted to know if he looked forward to seeing you. You wanted to know if he desired touching your skin, all over.

Did he want any of that?

Suddenly, he was done treating your feet and legs and he looked up at you, his eyes filled with so much wonder and mystery, you were captivated by them as he gave you a soft grin. 

“Can I see your hands?” he asked and you silently obliged, turning them palm up so he could start the same routine. The entire time, you stayed mesmerized by him, watching him, just in awe that you’d met someone like this.

And that’s when it hit you. You didn’t want to wait another day to see if he felt the same. It’d been nearly four months since you met. And for some time now, you’d felt some pretty deep feelings for this man, and every day it was getting harder and harder to ignore those feelings.

“There, all fixed up,” Hayden said with a wide grin as he sat the cotton ball on the coffee table. 

“Thanks...Would….would you wanna go out to dinner?”

He frowned slightly. “Tonight? But it’s after midnight,” he commented. “If you’re hungry I’m sure we could find something--”

You shook your head, slightly laughing of embarrassment and nerves, no trace of real humor in the chuckle. “Uh, no, not tonight. Like, I don’t know, Saturday or something?”

“Uh, maybe, why, what's up?” he inquired as he continued to clean up the supplies he’d brought out.

“Uh...I...No reason,” you said, shaking your head, the same nervous laugh escaping as you sat back on the couch. “What’s next? Star Wars I think. Awesome. I haven’t seen this since it came out and I’ve completely spaced it since then…”

Hayden noticed you rambling, your cheeks heating, your hands shaking and it suddenly clicked in his mind.

“Y/N, why did you want to go to dinner?” he softly demanded as he took the dvd case from you and sat it down, situating himself on the edge of couch so you could look at him. 

Taking a deep breath, you weighed your options of answering. On one hand, you could save face and save the friendship if you just told him to forget it. On the other hand, you knew that if you denied your feelings, you would always wonder if it was a missed chance at a great opportunity.

“I...uh….I was asking you on a date. I just wanted to see if you wanted to go for dinner and drinks or...whatever…” you explained, your eyes on your lap as you toyed with the hem of your shirt. 

Hayden’s eyes cast down as well as he mulled over how to answer, and the fact that he had to think about it was answer enough.

“It’s fine, I get it. You’re not interested. No big deal. I swear,” you promised. “We can still be friends and all that.” 

Inside, you were twisting. You’d made a fool of yourself. Now he knew that you had feelings for him and he didn’t return them. Would he feel awkward around you now?

“Y/N...I...I just...I’m still getting over things with Rachel,” he explained. “I just...I’m not sure I’m ready.”

You nodded. “No, yeah, I get that. It’s...delicate. It’s too soon. I understand. I’m sorry I brought it up,” you said, trying desperately to sound normal. A stiff silence hung between you two before you finally piped up and said, “Star Wars next?”

“Uh, I should be getting to bed. We’ll finish tomorrow, yeah?” he asked, his brows going up, hoping you weren’t offended, probably. 

You nodded. “Sure. Yeah. No problem.”

Standing, you smiled a goodnight smile at him, and he returned it. “Well, goodnight. See you in the morning,” you quietly said as he returned a salutation and you went to your room, closed the door, and got into bed. Before you knew it, hot tears were streaking down your face, staining your pillow. Quickly, you turned on music so he couldn’t hear your heartbroken sobs.

~~~~~~~~~~

Forever Tag:

@essie1876

@magpiegirl80

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

@marvel-imagines-yes-please

@missinstantgratification

@thejemersoninferno

@rda1989

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Hayden Christensen:

@coldlilheart

@haydens-moles

History Repeats:

@multifandomblog315​

[this-is-a-podcast-fanblog]

29 peter nureyev?

Today, I re-listened to Angel of Brahma. Then I noticed that a few of mutuals had also re-listened to Angel of Brahma. You know what that means. 

It’s cry over Mag hours folks. 

29. “Now this, the thirtieth hat in my collection -”

I broke a little from the intended concept of the prompt, because my ideas got away from me. I love hats, I love Peter, and I love coming of age stories. This became a mix of all three. 

(send me a prompt)

It takes hours of whining, pleading, and fighting against all opposing arguments (”What if you were caught and executed by a laser? How could I live with myself?”), but eventually Mag agrees to let Peter steal something on his own. He comes back into their hideout triumphant, cheeks flushed, the prize clutched in his hands. 

“A hat?” 

“A great hat,” Peter corrects. Many of the businesspeople who come to Brahma stop at a cafe only a short highrail ride from their hideout, and all of them wear suits and hats like the one in his hands. Outfitted in a suit of his own, it was all too easy to blend into the crowd and snatch one without meriting a second glance. Mag chuckles.

“What are you going to do with it?”

“Hang it in my room.” Peter tosses the hat into the air and catches it on his fingertips. “It’s a trophy. It’s my first heist!”

He’s twelve then; too short to reach the spot where he decides to hang the hat, too proud to let Mag do it for him. He drags over a chair and pounds a nail into the wall while Mag watches, nervous that he’ll hit his fingers. The hat hangs on his wall for three months. Then something goes wrong, they have to move, and it, along with everything else he owns, is left behind.

**

Louis Bisset wears a ridiculous hat. It’s shaped like a disc and perches at a precarious angle on top of his mess of red curls. When he’s painting, it sometimes flops down in front of his bright cornflower-blue eyes, and he’ll push it back up with the end of his brush. If his brow furrows, it dips lower, like a boat bobbing in the waves. He’s handsome when his brow furrows.

Peter’s smitten. 

“I’m in love,” he announces while Mag sits on the floor counting out stacks of creds.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” He sighs and flops back onto the moth-eaten sofa that they found on the curb a few weeks ago. “I feel like... Mag, I’ve never felt like this before. Not ever. I know I’m in love.”  

“Fascinating. What is this mysterious suitor’s name?”

“Louis,” he sings.

“Louis as a boy’s name, or a girl’s -”

“I’m don’t like girls!”

“Right, right. I knew that.” Mag sets down the cash and turns around. “So Louis the boy, then. How did you meet?” 

“Oh, we haven’t met.” Peter kicks one of his ankles against the ceiling. “He doesn’t know I exist. But I’ve seen him in the square every day and today I’m going to actually talk to him.” 

“Hmm.”

“And then he’ll see how in love with him I am, and then we’ll kiss and it will be perfect.” 

Mag doesn’t seem to share Peter’s excitement. “Hmm,” he says. “Are you sure this is safe, Pete? When you’re young, you feel lots of impulses that -”

“Oh god, Maaaag, you’re so embarrassing.” Peter grabs an apple and hops out the door. “Now I’m leaving to go confess my love. I’ll see you soon.”

Soon, it turns out, is early the next morning, when he crawls back through the window of their hideout holding a hat. The hat of a boy who admitted he had, in fact noticed Peter in the square. A boy who revealed AFTER everything was over that he would be leaving Brahma the next day. But here, he said, take this hay to remember me.

“Everything alright?” asks Mag. He’s sitting at the kitchen table across from the window; probably he knew Peter would come in that way. 

Peter slams the window shut. There are tears in his eyes. “No, it is not alright. He lied to me! I’m never going to love anyone again!”

“Now that’s a bit much.” 

“It isn’t! He took my heart and only gave me this stupid stupid hat and YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW I FEEL!” He flings the hat down and storms off to his room in tears.

Peter’s thirteen, and this is the first time he’s cried since he was six. When he emerges from his bedroom to grab a bar of chocolate (chocolate fixes most problems), Mag has gotten rid of the hat. Peter never says it, but he’s grateful. He didn’t want to look at it a second longer. 

**

Pickpocketing. 

That was the crime. 

A girl, maybe two years older than Peter, with dirty clothes and a somehow goth black hat. She tried to rob him while he was walking back to the hideout, brandishing a knife as she shouted, “Give me your money!”. He could run, of course. He could probably take her in a fight, if it came to that. 

He didn’t get the chance. 

She planned it badly; he saw that immediately. There was a streetlight nearby. Her voice was too loud. When the laser fired from the sky above, it pierced neatly through her hat and clove down to the ground, and she toppled to the ground in two different pieces. 

Peter managed to make it home without screaming, but once he fell through the door of their hideout (not even risking the window) it all came out.

And now he’s been sitting here on the floor, shaking against the front of Mag’s tear-soaked jacket, like he’s a child again. 

“What if that happens to me?” he gasps. “What if that happens to you?” 

**

Three things change very dramatically very quickly.

First: he’s taller. Almost two feet taller. Taller than Mag. He trips over almost everything and he feels out of place and he can’t believe this is the cursed body he’ll have to contend with for the rest of his life, and also he can’t wear heels anymore.

Second: his voice is deeper. Smoother. It suits him, he thinks.

Third: his hair will suddenly not do anything he wants.

Combs get caught in the tangles and break. He tries to braid it back and the hair ties snap. Mag grabs a pair of shears, sits him down at the kitchen table, and lops it all off. Doesn’t work. Now it just has more angles to stick up at.

This is where the beanie comes in. He’s seen people around the streets wearing them, and they don’t fit his style exactly, but desperate times call for desperate measures. So, the next time Mag raids a department store, he grabs one for Peter and brings it home. It doesn’t erase his hair problems, but it does a good job of hiding them. He decides that’s good enough.

Peter decides to spite his ridiculous six feet and wear the heels anyway, and he thinks it makes him intimidating. He practices dozens of new accents and records himself saying them. He steals nine more beanies in different colors and matches them with his outfits.

He’s nearly fourteen, he’s a criminal, and he’s somehow still alive.

**

Mag knocks on the door while Peter is painting his nails. 

“Password?” 

“Come on, Pete-”

“Password?”

He hears a sigh from the other side of the door. “It’s ’Mag is an idiot.’”

“Correct. You may enter.” He holds up one manicured hand as Mag steps through the door. “Do I have time to do a second coat before we leave?”

“Probably not. You can do it when we get back.” 

“Alright, then. You still haven’t told me where we’re going.” They’ve been expanding their perimeter these past few days, hitting stores and banks a distance from their hideout to throw off the constables. Neither of them wants to move for what would be the fifth time this year. 

“You’ll see when we get there. But first -”

Mag has been holding his hands behind his back. Now he moves one forward and tosses something across the room - 

“A fedora?” Peter catches it in the hand without wet nails. “The fedora I was looking at earlier this week.” 

“Happy birthday.” 

He’s fourteen, and he’s been saying he’s too old to hug his father figure. Now he hops up and does it anyway. 

**

“The constables are employed by?” 

“The New Kinshasa government.”

“And they’re armed with?”

“A baton, a plasma knife, and two high-power laser pistols. Oh, and pepper spray.” 

“Very good, Pete. And they wear?”

“Black single-breasted jackets over black slacks with red stripes up the side - white for higher ranks.” 

“And?”

“And... damn. I know this.” 

“Take your time.”

“Flat caps! Red ones with black trim.”

“Excellent! I don’t think you’ve missed anything.” 

It’s still at least a year out, but already they’ve started planning for it - Mag’s great heist. The mission to take down New Kinshasa. 

The one that will make everyone remember his name. 

Mag sits down next to him and rustles his hair, mussing it into those sloppy angles it still goes back to sometimes. “I,” he says, and there is love in his eyes. “Am so proud of you, Peter.”

“Yes, yes, now stop getting sentimental, old man.” Peter rolls his eyes and ducks away. “We have more to go over! Are the caps wide brim or flat?”

They’ll all know his name.

**

The room is the color of the hat is the color of the blood on his hands and the blood on the body at his feet.

He makes it of the reactor room. Kills a constable, steals their uniform, and makes it out of the building. 

When he gets to the hideout, he doesn’t bother to climb in through the window. There’s nothing he can take with him that he couldn’t just steal on the way to wherever he’ll go next. Anyway, he has a fake ID in his pocket. He has a knife, and once he washes off the blood -

Once he washes off Mags’s blood - 

- then he can use it again. And he’ll have to. 

In the lining of his vest, he has a small roll of cash, a pack of cigarettes, and a book of matches. Now he pulls out the loose threads and grabs the latter of these. He doesn’t stick around to watch the hideout burn.

The boy that pulls the cap low over his face as he turns away is sixteen. 

The name he was before is turning to ash behind him. 

[jawnjendes]

girl, you’re trouble | shawn mendes

university au, shawn x goth gf

AN: i dont love the title but whatever i guess!! let me know ur thots, Thots! ALSO theres a bit of Spanish in this (surprise, the goth gf is actually mexican) so get ur fuckin translators out

masterlist | series playlist

I woke up alone in bed, but I wasn’t alone in the apartment. Just outside the bedroom, in the living room, I heard the sounds of Shawn singing and playing guitar. A smile appeared on my tired face. It’s been a while since I heard that pretty voice. It took me a minute to process what exactly he was belting out, but it must have been new. I’ve heard all of his songs, but this one was unfamiliar to me.

“Help me, it’s like the walls are caving in

Sometimes I feel like giving up, but I just can’t

It isn’t in my blood”

With a heavy sigh, I reached for my phone on the nightstand. However, as soon as I extended my arm and tried to stretch, I felt the minor sting of my incisions. I groaned and remained lying where I was, and I waited for Shawn to get all his sad boi feelings out. Good thing I loved hearing him sing.

“Laying on the bathroom floor, feeling nothing

I’m overwhelmed and insecure, give me something

I could take to easy my mind, slowly”

Okay, that was a direct hit to the feelings I tried so hard to keep tied up in a small box in the back of my mind. I felt small and helpless all over again in a matter of seconds. I had to lie on this bed and stare at the ceiling while I waited for my boyfriend to come and help me sit up. I had to depend on someone else to get by, and I never experienced that. I needed help, and I hated it. I hated being so vulnerable. Crazy how his words could drastically change my mood. And I literally just woke up.

Out of sheer spite (to whom, I don’t know), I dug my elbows into the mattress and attempted to pick up my head and shoulders. I felt the strain below my belly button, where the biggest incision was located, but I still tried to sit up on my own. Then, a sharp pain went through where I was cut into, and I groaned through gritted teeth. I dropped my head back and took a deep breath. I can do this.

Shawn’s guitar playing suddenly stopped. “Honey?”

Okay, I can’t do this.

I took another deep breath and tried to erase the frustration from my face as the door to the room opened. Shawn dashed inside and approached me.

“Are you okay? What happened?” he asked, looking up and down at my body like he was expecting me to be bleeding.

“Nothing, I was just trying to sit up,” I replied monotonously.

“Well, why didn’t you call me? I was just right outside the door.” Without even asking, he leaned down to wrap an arm around my back and moved me into a sitting up position. I felt a bit stupid.

I decided to change the subject. “Was that a new song I heard?”

“Yeah, something that hit all of a sudden,” he said. “What’d you think?”

Carefully, I shifted so my legs hung over the edge of the mattress. “I liked it a lot. I was happy to hear you sing again.”

Now I was able to reach for my phone on the nightstand. I had a new text from my mom, saying that she and my dad landed in Toronto. A deep pit formed in my stomach.

“My parents are in the city,” I said, my eyes widening.

Shawn didn’t reciprocate my nerves. “That’s great! Do they need a ride from the airport?”

“No!” I answered too quickly. “Uh… If you pick them up and I’m not there, they’ll be upset that I didn’t personally welcome them here. And if I do go with you, they’ll freak out because I’m not taking better care of myself post-surgery. Just let them get a Lyft.”

“Okay, then…”

For the first time in weeks, I got myself ready. Yeah, I was in the hospital for a week and a half, but exams season was prior to that event. I had been looking raggedy for a while now. My face was a little sunken in from the dramatic weight drop I experienced from my diet, but I didn’t look Dead dead. I brushed my teeth and straightened my hair, and I felt good about it. Plus, I was glad to discover I still had the skill to almost effortlessly draw on inner and outer wings on my eyes. I mean, I had one eye done successfully...

Shawn was watching me in the bathroom, leaning against the doorway with a smile on his face. I pretended to be too busy drawing on my other wing to acknowledge him for about five seconds. The pressure was a bit much.

“Can I help you, my dear?” I asked, finally drawing the outline of my wing.

“You just look so pretty,” he said mindlessly. “And you’re so good at putting on makeup.”

I chuckled. “It’s just eyeliner.”

Then the subject changed. “So… I know I’ve asked, but I still don’t know the answer. What are your parents like?”

I never knew how to answer a question like that without sounding like an ungrateful child. “Um… my mom’s an Aries and my dad is an Aquarius…”

“Babe.”

“My mom’s name is Lucy, and my dad’s name is Ed,” I tried again. “They’ll talk to each other in Spanish if they don’t want people around them to know what they’re saying. A lot of people say I’m a mix of both of them. Uh, they’re swayed by actions and not words. They know you make me happy, so they should be nice.”

“Should?” Shawn repeated. “Uh, okay. Noted. My parents and sister are coming over too. Like, a little bit later. So it’ll be a big happy family time.”

“Fun!”

Oh god. If there was anything in my body, I’d shit myself.

For once, the two of us were dressed in something other than pajamas. I mean, I still had on black sweats, but I had on my black long sleeve with a rose embroidered on the chest. It was nicer than a t-shirt, in my opinion. Plus, it went well with Shawn’s black floral button up and black jeans. His outfit was a bit more colorful, but I was a little giddy that we had an unplanned theme going on.

My parents came over first. I heard the knock on the door and made tense eye contact with my boyfriend. Then, I remembered one last bit to tell him.

“Oh, uh… my father doesn’t appreciate names like Gomez Addams, Alice Cooper, Gene Simmons… y’know what I mean?” I said, snaking my arm around Shawn’s waist so we could walk to the front door.

“Why would I call him that?” he asked, confused.

“It’s just his… aesthetic? Appearance? He’s serious about it, and he doesn’t like people poking fun at it, even if it’s not malicious. Tell that to your family too.”

Shawn nodded, but he still seemed confused. I would have explained more, but another well-timed knock on the door distracted me.

“You can just wait on the couch if you want,” he told me as we strolled through the hallway.

“No, I don’t want you facing them alone.”

It’s cute how he thought I was joking. But I was not leaving him alone as long as my parents were here.

“Oh!” I interjected. “One more thing! Do not mention my birth control or my Prozac. They’ll flip their shit if they find out!”

“Shit, okay…”

When we got to the door, I answered. My mother practically screamed.

“Mija! Mi chiquita!” She hugged me around the shoulders, causing the fuzz from her fluffy pink coat to get in my mouth. For once, she was able to reach my shoulders because she was wearing sparkly, silver wedges.

She leaned back and smiled at me, tears welling up in her dark brown eyes. My mom didn’t exactly look young for her age, but she certainly dressed like it. Under her pink coat, she had a lavender dress on and white tights. Not only that, she had dyed her hair a lighter brown in the time that I had been away from home. It was a surprise, but it suited her.

“Love the hair,” I told her with a smile.

She kissed me on the cheek, leaving behind a pink lip stain. “Thank you, mija. Your hair has gotten really long! And you’ve lost weight!”

There it is.

My father was clad in a black leather jacket, a grey t-shirt and black jeans. He had on a black beanie, which covered his full head of dark hair. Last time I saw him, he was clean shaven, but now he had a decent amount of scruff on his chin. He was as tall as Shawn, but way less muscular. He held out a hand to him, and that was when I noticed his nails were also painted black. Haven’t seen that in a hot minute.

“How ya doing?” he greeted. “I’m Ed, and this is my wife, Lucy.”

Shawn shook his hand and smiled. I could tell he was nervous. “Nice to meet you.” He held his hand out to my mom next, but she pulled him into a hug.

“It’s so wonderful to meet you, honey,” she told him, returning his nervous smile.

“You too.” Shawn was pleasantly surprised by the gesture.

Dad hugged me as tight as Mom did. “Mija. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you guys,” I told them.

“Ah, it’s about time you do!” Mom said, still smiling.

And comes the first awkward pause of the week.

“Come on in!” Shawn piped up, gesturing for them to go down the hallway. “Living room is down that way. Would you guys like some water?”

“Oh, you sweetheart. Please, if you don’t mind,” Mom told him before following my dad to the living room.

That gave Shawn and I a moment alone as we went into the kitchen. It was a moment to breathe and to process everything. I looked at him, not really sure what to expect. Did he hate them already?

“You didn’t tell me your parents were polar opposites,” he told me quietly as he went to get glasses from the cabinet. “You never told me your dad was a goth.”

“You never asked,” I said, bemused.

“I’ve asked you like ten times!”

We went back to the living room with glasses of water. My mom was quick to stand up and help me sit on the couch.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be walking around so much,” she suggested.

“It’s good for me, trust me,” I replied. I wonder how much mothering I could take before I had it.

“Let me see your scars,” she said, grabbing at my shirt to look at my bandaged incisions. “Are they healing? Do they hurt at all?”

She’s my mom. What could I do? I sent my mildly embarrassed gaze over to Shawn, who was setting the glasses of water down on the coffee table. He only gave me an amused smile.

“Oh, god no!” Dad snapped, turning his head away. He coughed and gagged.

“It’s not that bad,” I told him. “It’s three holes and two lines in my tummy!”

“Nope! I can’t do blood!”

“There’s no blood!”

Mom pulled my shirt back down and sat next to Dad on the other end of the L-shaped couch. “You dress and act so scary but you can’t even look at your daughter’s wounds!”

They began to bicker in Spanish, to which I rolled my eyes at. Shawn sat down next me and we shared a look.

“Just wait,” I told him. “They’ll be done in a second. Then, they’re gonna interrogate you.”

“Great.”

Once my parents got themselves together, they simultaneously turned to us, hands folded in their laps. They moved together like robots sometimes, it was strange. But it worked for them.

“So, mija,” Mom said, “when will you be coming home?”

Oof. An unpleasant thing to talk about.

“Actually…” I trailed off. “I’m gonna be recovering til the middle of August. If I didn’t have these huge cuts under my belly button, I’d be ready to go home next week…”

Mom blinked a few times, like she hadn’t process what I said. Dad, on the other hand… his face fell. Honestly, I wasn’t too happy about this arrangement either.

“When does school start for you?” Dad asked.

“A week after I’m supposed to be recovered,” I replied. “And I have to get my dorm ready, and my professors will start setting assignments that month. Not to mention, I still have a job.”

“So you can go to work, but you can’t come home?” Mom’s warm, loving facade now vanished. Her face went hard and cold, and her eyes were daggers.

“My job isn’t that far from here,” I told her. “And I’m sitting at a desk most of the time. Trust me, I wanna go home too, but the doctor said-”

She cut across me. “The doctor said you stay con tu pinche novio, verdad? No quieres dejar ese chamaco? No quieres ver tu familia porque ya tienes novio!”

My dad gently placed his hands on her shoulders and quietly spoke to calm her down. It wouldn’t do any good, because now I was angry, and I talked back.

“Él no es chamaco! Me está cuidando, y estoy muy agradecido que me deje quedarme aquí! Sin él, hubiera estado sin hogar y varado! Ma, el doctor me dijo que no puedo viajar asi!” I raised my voice, causing Dad to hold up a warning finger.

“Don’t talk to your mother like that!”

“Pues, claro que no quieres viajar! How convenient!” Mom snapped. “Quieres quedarte con ese guey, no me mientas.”

My dad looked at my startled, confused boyfriend. “Listen, Shane-”

“Shawn,” I corrected, folding my arms.

“Sorry. Shawn. I’m sure you’re a nice guy,” Dad continued, “but we don’t know enough about you. We don’t know if this is a safe enough place for our daughter.”

Shawn sat up. “I’ll tell you anything you’d like to know, sir.”

“Nos va a mentir,” my mom spoke, looking at my dad with wide eyes. “Nos dirá que queremos oír.”

Normally, I would have kept at the Spanish, but I was over it now. Especially in front of my English speaking boyfriend. “Just give him a chance, Ma!”

Dad gave me a look like I was crazy. “Mija… she’s not wrong.”

I ignored him and turned to Shawn. “They’ve been here all of ten minutes and they already think you’re a liar. They think you’re forcing me to stay here or something.”

“Hey, we did not say that!” Mom pointed a manicured finger at me.

“It’s gonna lead to that! You’re always going to the worst case scenario!”

“Well, you’re still sick! He could leave or kick you out!”

Shawn spoke up. “Um… with all due respect, I wouldn’t do anything like that. I care so much about your daughter, I wouldn’t even think about leaving her like this, especially since…” He paused and glanced at me once. “I already knew how I felt about your daughter, but her time in the hospital made it even more clear. I love her… so much. All I wanna do is make sure she’s okay and healthy. And I wanna make her happy, too.”

That was all… the sweetest shit ever. But my mother still had a skeptical look on her face. My dad had his eyes narrowed, but he spoke next.

“I can see that. She told us that you slept at the hospital, saw her through to her surgery. Even before that, you stayed despite her health issues. I think that’s a good man.”

My faith was restored and shattered again with every word. “Despite my health issues?” I repeated.

“Ay, mija,” Mom said with a sigh, “you of all people should know how much of a hassle it is to deal with your sickness.”

“Well, Shawn doesn’t see me as someone who’s sick. He never has.”

“It’s really no hassle,” he added. “If anything, she pushes me to eat better.”

“And I only get sick if I eat the wrong thing. Most of the time, I’m fine.”

Mom scoffed. “You were in the hospital. Obviously, you did something wrong!”

Heard those words before… every time I was in the bathroom at my parents’ house. It was my fault. I felt defeated, so I sat back and pinched the bridge of my nose. It was hard to keep my body relaxed when I was so tense and frustrated. Of course, my silence prompted my mom to keep talking… to Shawn.

“As a child, whenever she got mad, she told us she was going to run away to Canada,” she recalled with a chuckle. “And she did! She got a scholarship offer from UCLA, but she chose to run here instead.”

I didn’t run away. I chose the place I actually applied to, and it was Toronto.

“How was I supposed to look after her? What would happen if she got sick?”

I got sick here, and it was handled. I knew how to handle my own burdens. Part of being chronically sick is learning to live with it. Part of it was always being seen as sick to some people. That happened whether you want it to or not.

“Aside from that,” Dad added, “we were also worried about the type of person she might end up with. She’ll pick whoever she picks, obviously. We just don’t wanna see her with someone who’ll influence her the wrong way. I’m sure she’s told you, but she’s had some rough relationships in the past.”

Shawn nodded. “Oh yeah. I know all about Luca.”

“Who’s Luca?”

God fuckign-

Keeping secrets from my parents was not allowed when I lived with them. It was hard trying to find privacy, much less ask for it. If I wanted to keep something for myself, then I was hiding something and that was bad. I couldn’t even keep a journal without worrying that they’ll read it behind my back. They were always able to get stuff out of me anyway… because they’re my parents, and they want to help, and I can only trust them and no one else. They did everything for me, the least I could do was reveal personal information so they knew every little thing that was going on with me.

Don’t even get me started on how offended they would get if I didn’t want to talk about certain things. I wanted time to sit with my depression when it started happening, only for my parents to literally ground me because I kept it from them. My mom was upset because I didn’t tell her about Shawn from the moment I laid eyes on him. So when I told them that I did not want to talk about my past thing with Luca, they weren’t exactly thrilled.

Thankfully, Shawn’s family finally made it over. That meant that my parents had to put on their civil customer service attitudes. Anyway, I finally met Shawn’s dad and sister, Manny and Aaliyah. I was still in a physical state I didn’t want to be in, but this was much better than when I was on morphine and hitting on my boyfriend.

Within minutes, our parents were bragging about their kids. Not in a way where they were trying to one up each other, more like they were proving their kids were good together. My mom let go of some of her skepticism as Karen gushed about her son. Karen also brought up that she was at the hospital with me, which started up that conversation.

“Okay, mija,” Mom said, looking at me. “How bad was this infection? I couldn’t understand the texts you sent me.”

“Before or after the surgery?” I asked.

“Pues, los dos.”

I spent about twenty minutes explaining the infection, the antibiotics, and the trip to the emergency room.

“So what happened? Why did you get that infection?” Dad asked.

“She stopped taking care of herself,” Mom answered for me. “I’m assuming you and your vato go out a lot. ¿Están comiendo pura basura, verdad?”

“No es cierto!” I argued, but I had to remember the other witnesses in the room. “Sometimes, these things just happen. I was really upset to that I spent so much time taking care of myself, only to end up having surgery. But everything went well. The surgery was successful, and I’m okay.”

I could still see fire in my mother’s eyes, but she held her tongue. It was just another argument to be had later. It was a little embarrassing, having Shawn’s family witness the tension and underlying rage. The only person who seemed entertained by it was Aaliyah.

“And after the surgery?” Dad asked, gesturing for me to continue. “You had another infection?”

“Just on the incision,” I replied. “That was take care of with antibiotics.”

“That’s not what your texts said.”

“Huh?”

Now, I remember sending my parents updates on my condition, despite the fact that they were without their phones literally the entire time I was in the hospital. I knew I sent them the text about having a surgical site infection.

Shawn spoke up, his voice soft. “Honey…”

I turned to him, but he was looking at the floor now. His jaw was clenched, like he was holding something back. He was silent long enough for his mom to speak up.

“You did have an infection, yes,” she said, “but that was a few days after… The day after your surgery, you went into shock. They found out you were hemorrhaging, and they took you into the OR again. If they didn’t catch it when they did, you could have died.”

I only stared silently, my mouth half open. My mom gasped and clutched her chest, horrified. Dad was rubbing his hands together, trying to process what was spoken. Aaliyah had her mouth wide open, like the greatest tea was being spilled. Manny and Shawn were both looking down at the floor.

“Holy crap,” Aaliyah whispered, breaking the silence.

“Why did nobody tell me this?” I finally asked.

“The fever and the drugs made you delirious,” Shawn explained, picking his head back up. “They told you, but you probably don’t remember. Sometimes you didn’t even recognize me. And I sent most of the texts to your parents. Figured they would want to know.”

Every word was like a hammer to my chest. Now that I was thinking about it, my hospital memories were fuzzy. If there was something I did remember, it was my boyfriend sitting at my bedside for days. Also, his nightmares made a lot more sense now. It was my fault.

It’s all my fault.

That night, I lied awake. Again. Shawn frequently thrashed and yelled in his sleep. I found myself wondering if I would actually wake up again.

[lydiaandarry]

{How To Dress Similarly To Your Favorite Cartoon Characters Pt.2 (Using Five Examples!)}

Hello there!

     My name is Arabella but you can call me Arry, if it’s easier. I don’t know about you but I basically grew up on cartoons. I watched Cartoon Network all day and I used to get so much inspiration from cartoon characters that probably followed me into my older years. Personality and fashion-wise. Have you ever wanted to dress similar to one of your favorite cartoon characters yet not wanting to look like a cosplay or costume? Well, you’ve come to the right gal because that is exactly what I am going to be helping you with but before I get onto the five examples, we must go over some basic knowledge. Fashion can say a lot about a character, especially in cartoons where the clothes rarely change. It has to be iconic yet true to the personality being demonstrated in some sense. Five things go into analyzing and copying a cartoon characters style: 1) Color Palette 2) Aesthetic 3) Overall Impression 4) Fashion Items 5) How It Shapes Their Personality? These are five things we are going to keep in mind during our five examples. Let’s invade this topic.

(Nazz)

   Nazz from Ed Edd n’ Eddy is probably one of the easiest old cartoon characters to make modern. Especially since her style has come back into trend with layering. Now I didn't grow up with Ed Edd n’ Eddy because my mother was fearful that I would develop behavior similar to the boys. But whenever I did see images of it or short scenes, I loved Nazz’s fashion (next to Marie’s). Starting with the first thing to think about when recreating a style of any cartoon character, color palette. A color palette is quite important especially when it comes to cartoon characters because these colors can be forever associated with this character. Nazz’s color palette includes black, white, denim, red, and occasionally green. These colors are great because they can go great with each other and makes a strong color palette. Nazz’s aesthetic is a mixture between Girl Next Door and Tomboy. She has boyish elements that allows her to be ‘one of the boys’ yet she also has a fun, flirty girly side. The third thing to consider is the overall impression of their clothes to the world around them. Now this may seem odd but this is worth consideration because it depends on how you want to be taken. As people judge upon appearances and your clothes can say a lot about you. Nazz’s overall impression and how it makes people see her is that Nazz is seen as very attractive and everyone wants to hang out with her. She’s the female character that has a lot of friends and is overall popular and kind. She isn’t the stereotypical mean girl despite dressing nice and being friends with a lot of people. She breaks that stereotype and shows that you can be cool yet nice. The fourth thing to consider is fashion items, unless you are planning on copying Nazz’s style piece by piece. It is great to really observe it and take pieces of it that may fit into her character yet is good for everyday use and not a cosplay. Remember, it’s all about inspiration. With Nazz, I recommend for tops, basic plain color shirts, crop tops, ringer tees, cropped sweaters, and cami tops. For bottoms, high waisted shorts, basic jeans or ripped jeans, flared jeans, and pleated skirts. For shoes, sneakers like Vans or Converse. For accessories, a quirky pair of sunglasses. And last but not least, the fifth thing to consider is how does her clothes shape her personality? Nazz’s clothes shape her personality in a sense of how she wants to look good. Nazz is very particular on how she looks and despite being confident, is upset if she looks anything but good. Her appearance is very important to her. It shapes her personality in how she likes hanging out with boys more so over girls in the show and is seen as one of the boys due to how her clothes aren’t overly feminine. She’s a great beginner choice for people who want to try this out.

(Mandy)

   Ah yes, the girl I aspired to be when I was younger and probably scared my mother some more. Mandy from Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy. This is a fun character because her outfit… is completely different from her personality. She wears a pink flower dress, mary-janes and a headband. She looks like an innocent, girly girl but Mandy is evil. She’s a good type of evil but is still evil. Mandy’s color palette depends on where you want to take from it but I gathered white, black, pale pink, pale blue & pale yellow (counting the flower) and purple (her eyeshadow, at times). But if I was going to dress similarly, I would just do white, black and pale pink as the other colors are mere colors compared to those main three. Mandy doesn’t exactly have an aesthetic instead I guess she would be gothic with pink and a sort of doll-like quality. Mandy’s overall impression is that people mistake her for being sweet and innocent although her parents are terrified of her, everyone is mostly terrified of her. A grim reaper is terrified of her. Her clothes are deceiving but everyone knows that she is a very unhappy person due to her constant frown which was even in there inside the womb. Now onto the fun part, clothing choices. For jackets, I would suggest something like a Lazy Oaf jacket style (like their chore jackets) and oversized cardigans. For tops, mock necks, crop tops, layered shirts with a mock-neck under a shirt. Also pinafore dresses and a-line dresses. For bottoms, high-waisted shorts and pleated skirts. For shoes, mary-janes or sneakers. And for accessories, always have a headband on and maybe some skeleton or creepy accessories like a coffin backpack. Mandy’s clothing shapes her personality in a way for humor, she’s this scary person who can almost be a villain yet edges on being an anti-hero at most. It’s complete satire that she looks sweet and innocent with a gothic personality. So have fun with it because if anything, she shows that it’s not what is on the outside that counts after all. There’s a very creepy personality behind that color of pink.

(Sam Manson)

     Another favorite female character of mine. Okay, let’s say… that you don’t like pink or want to be a secret Goth. There is plenty of gothic female characters to choose from. But one of my favorites has always been Sam Manson from Danny Phantom. I mean, I loved that show in general. And I loved Sam’s design, even though I wasn’t allowed to wear crop-tops til I turned 18. Her color palette is purple, green, black. You’ve noticed that cartoon characters always seem to have a simple color palette. And of course, Sam’s aesthetic is gothic, even though she could also be eco-goth since I remember an episode of her wanting to save the Earth and becoming a vegetarian. For fashion choices, hm. For jackets, I feel like she would wear hoodies, oversized black denim jackets, and long coats or even a varsity jacket. For tops, crop-tops, band tees, mock-necks, muscle tees, fishnet tops and sheer tops with something underneath. If she wore a dress, it would probably be black and an a-line, once again with a mock-neck. For bottoms, plaid skirts, checkered shirts, pleated skirts, ripped jeans with fishnets underneath, high-waisted shorts. For shoes, Doc Martens, sneakers, mary-janes and platforms. For accessories, knee-high socks, fishnets, tights, chokers, patches and enamel pins, belt, and a cool backpack. Sam’s overall impression is kind of hard to sum up in a small summary since Danny Phantom is so complex so I recommend watching the show to get a better idea but it’s never really brought up as a main point in her character how she dresses. She’s a great gothic character for inspiration though.

(Valhallen)

   Okay now the first three characters and five characters of my last post were all girls. For those, who may not know Valhallen is a male character from “Justice Friends” which originated as a short from “Dexter’s Laboratory”, are you following me? Let’s say you’re a dude or you want to dress similar to a dude character. Valhallen is a great character to start with as he is a very simple character to modernized because you don’t even really have to go off his sense of style to dress similar to him. His color palette consists of black, yellow, and silver. Pretty simple. His aesthetic is kind of surfer mixed with metalhead mixed with Nordic god. He was created to be a parody of Thor. Which he succeeds greatly with. What is the overall impression of Valhallen? Well, he is quite a ladies man. He is definitely seen as the more attractive member. Valhallen doesn’t have much of an overall impression except the fact that the ladies love him from all realms and he is a fan favorite character. Onto the fun part! Fashion items. Now I chose Valhallen, because no offense but he does have a feminine touch on clothing that can easily be feminized. The dude wears a midriff. For jackets, denim jackets would suit, perhaps with patches of your favorite metal bands or enamel pins. For tops, crop-tops, midriffs, band tees, muscle tees, fishnet or sheer tops with something underneath, cropped camis. Don’t be afraid to show a lot of skin on your upper body. For bottoms, ripped jeans, basic jeans, high waisted shorts, bell bottoms. For shoes, knee high boots. For accessories, headpieces, fingerless gloves, studded jewelry, spiked belts. How does his clothes shape his personality? Well, he’s The Viking God of Rock. He has to look the part and this is basic metalhead fashion with God twists similar to Thor. He’s a goofy character who is hilariously rad and doesn’t take himself too seriously and his clothes show that. He’s less out there than Major Glory but can stand out more than The Infraggable Krunk. He’s obviously the more free-spirited one who isn’t afraid to be himself.

(Judy Jetson)

    Here is what I like to call expert mode because unlike the other four who have easily modernized looks. Judy is from the future yet has a vintage twist. Her clothes are not something a typical teenager or young adult would wear in this day and age. I mean, someone who isn’t as weird as me. So you have to kind of reinvent her and make her suit your taste yet keep elements about her that are amazing and what makes her lovely. Judy’s color palette is pale pink, red (in some lighting), darker pink, white and black. If anyone asks you about a known fact of me… I love pink with red and pink with black. I also love pink on pink. And Judy Jetson has two of my favorite pinks where it’s not Barbie Pink or Too Pink. The overall impression of Judy, well she’s seen as the teenage girl of the future. She’s boy-crazy, fun, has exciting hobbies, can be quite moody and sassy. She loves dancing, attends high school and spends her evening listening to her favorite boy bands. Parts of Judy have travelled into the future as I related to her a lot when I was sixteen. And still do! She can get out of hand sometimes and I feel like all girls do, even into early adult years. I’ve had my moments where I have overreacted. Onto fashion items! Now, with Judy, as I said before, you are going to have to reimagine outfits for her. With jackets, I suggest fit and flare, perhaps long jackets, something to show off the figure however. With tops, crop-tops, mock necks, fitted tops, fun bodysuits, sheer tops, about anything that is cool. With bottoms, flared skirts or pleated skirts, mini skirts, high-waisted shorts, suspender pants, pants or jeans. For dresses, pinafores, figure hugging, a-line. For shoes, sneakers, flats, boots, platforms. A tip for seeming more futuristic is adding in color palette fitting metallics and holographic. For accessories, tights, knee high socks, circle purses, star shaped things, hair bows, headbands, funky sunglasses, vintage gloves, roller-skates if you skate.  How does Judy’s clothes shape her personality? Well, her outfit is very youthful compared to her mother’s. She has more of a spark and quirky sense. Her clothes really show that she is bubbly and charismatic. She is out of this world. Something that I feel like girls should be more confident to try to be. To be unapologetically themselves. Just because her outfit isn’t exactly the future creators in the 60s were thinking of. It doesn’t mean that we can’t carry traits into this world.

    That was how to dress similarly to your favorite cartoon characters, part two! If you want to see part one, click here! Feel free to follow for more posts like this. Also feel free to like and reblog if you enjoyed it! I may turn this into a series as they are always a lot of fun. Just be you and have fun with fashion! I post every Wednesday and Saturday so I will see you on Wednesday! Peace out!

[tinylifeboat123]

Candy Store - Heathers!Vincent AU

It’s been a while since my last instalment but here’s chapter 2 of the au where only Veronica is genderbent.

"Dear Diary."

Vincent stood by his locker, his head flicked to the side out of habit forgetting that his hair no longer obscured his face. The locker in question was clean of any vandalism and instead had a blue sparkly "V" tacked above the lock.

The new life with the Heathers had happened so fast. After what Vincent would describe as his initiation, his whole life changed from Heather Chandler giving him advice to his bold outfit Heather Duke told him to wear everyday.

It was nice, albeit weird.

As Vincent continued to jot down the last week in his sacred journal, a second figure edged around the corner, slightly larger and much pinker than him.

"Hey Vincent... you really are looking beautiful these days..."

Although it was a nice compliment, Vincent had known Martha a long time and knew exactly when she was uneasy.

“Yeah well it’s still the same me underneath!” He gave a small smile, hugging his journal to his chest. Martha however was now looking at her feet. Right, last week he had broken the unspoken rule of their friendship, bailing on movie night. “Oh Martha I’m sorry about flaking but there was just so much going on-“

“No, I get it, you’re with the Heathers now... it’s exciting” forcing a smile Martha opened her own locker. Vincent was not used to causing his friend’s grief and frantically tried to formulate a reply when he received one sharp prod in the shoulder. Duke’s long finger nail.

“Heather says to haul ass to the cafe PRONTO.”

“How... very.” He directed at Martha but she was already moving down the hallway. Away from him.

——-

“Ah Vincent.” Chandler stood at the entrance to the canteen with McNamara seemingly keeping her eyes peeled for... someone? “I need a forgery in Ram Sweeney’s handwriting... you’ll need something to write on... HEATHER BEND OVER!”

Without flinching at the sudden outburst, Duke sighed, bending over in front of Vincent creating quite a compromising position.

“Hi Honey, I’ve been watching you and thinking about us in the old days. I hope you can come to my homecoming party this weekend. I miss you, Ram... and put a little ex oh after the signature!” Chandler dictated.

“Um whats this for anyway?” Vincent asked handing back the note before Chandler snatched it up quickly folding the paper.

“Well did you know that Ram use to hang out with Martha Dumptruck?”

“Yeah in kindergarten... we all did?”

“But we didn’t all kiss on the kickball field!” Duke retorted, snapping up and fixing her hair.

“Oh yeah, Ram kissed Martha Dumptruck... It was disgusting!” McNamara pitched in, pointing towards the man himself. Chandler fixed her posture and beckoned.

“Oh Ram? Would you be a sweetie and give this to Martha?”

A mix of panic from the confrontation last week and the implications of this note ever making it to Martha hit Vincent all at once as the tall jock moved towards them.

“Ugh since when do you hang with that lard ass?” Ram said, beginning to open the note.

Fuck! Vincent sprang into action and snatched the note from Ram’s hands. It seemed the act of his ‘gay hands’ touching Ram’s was enough for the dude-bro to back away. This didn’t help Vincent’s brewing anger at the girl in red.

“You CANNOT give this to Martha. She’s had a thing for Ram for like 12 years now, THIS would kill her,” he bargained but she didn’t seem too happy at the development. “Come on Heather, you’re bigger than this.”

That was the last rebellious straw.

“Are we gonna have a problem Vincent? Because I think you know that we can get what we want when we want. We took you in for new possibilities presented by your inhuman forging and gay boy dynamic but believe me, we made it this far with out you-“ she steps right up to Vince’s face, snatching away the note once more. “And I will not hesitate to throw you out again. Now you have to decide Vincent... Watch lame movies with little miss sesame street or step into my candy store.”

With that the Heathers move to sit at a nearby table casually watching Vincent. He had to spend a minute letting his heart settle back into his chest but that didn’t last very long.

“Vincent!”

The pink blob, Martha, bounded towards him with a note in her hand. Well shit. It seemed that six crafty hands are better than two.

“Look! Ram invited me to his homecoming party. This proves he’s been thinking about me!” Martha stood lovestruck rereading the note. Vincent lost in the aura of his now happy best friend didn’t want her to be crushed by his actions again. Hopeless he looked back at the Heathers. Chandler casually tapped her wrist where a watch would be as McNamara patted a seat next to her.

“Color me stoked.”

“I’m so happy!”

Martha gave Vince a big warm hug before leaving the canteen. Vincent would guess towards her locker to frame the note. The note he had written. He was already in too deep when he joined the Heathers but he thought popularity meant freedom to do what he wanted at school.

The blue boy sighed heavily before setting his sights on the Heather table. He made it about 5 feet.

“You shouldn’t have to bow down to the swatch dogs and Diet Coke heads.”

Vincent looked to the floor. Leaning against the wall was a lanky guy with a one side buzz cut. Dark circles lined his eyes and the fingers holding his book had black nail varnish.

Vincent would immediately write him off as an other goth, if it weren’t for his large dark trench coat.

[welovelofi]

Tales Of Murder And Dust: Fragile Absolutes. We Feature, We Love.

https://open.spotify.com/album/6DMVg3nHhAadARNNw1dfpl?si=iuFBfCgKQhGEiYq-M2alqw

Århus based, Tales Of Murder And Dust are freshly out with their 3rd full-length LP, Fragile Absolutes. It’s the result of a long gestation and steady evolution of both the line-up and context of the group.

“It’s been the most difficult process we’ve ever had” is bandied around like a mantra in the organization. Why though? Tomad seems to have at times in their 12-year career, everything going for them in spades, but if you pull up specific moments of dormancy – a heck of a lot of forces working against them. Like plate tectonics or glacial migration – slow building pressures ripping them apart that the human sensory array could only detect with seemingly topographic charts. 

After 2016’s “The Flow In Between” saw the band signing to English neo-psych magnate, Fuzzclub Records, they parted ways with founding member Kristoffer Vilsgaard, who shared lead vocal and songwriting duties with Christian Sinding Soendergaard. Vilsgaard left the operation amicably and still remains active in their now extensive ‘extended family’. Around the same time, TOMAD saw a drastic line-up shift in virtually every position except drums. Fellow ZRN (formerly Zeroine, a ‘side��� collab between Ess Beck and Soendergaard) and real-life partner, Ess Beck moved in on keys and auxiliary guitar, Rasmus Aaen Jensen entered on bass, and the slimmer, leaner line-up headed to USA for their very chaotic inaugural tour – plagued by missed connections, transportation break-downs and hellish drive times.

    “It was our first time in the states, and instead of being able to soak it all in, we got into a van and drove 35 hours straight to a gig” remarks Jakob Korsgaard (drums). “I kinda feel like it doesn’t even count, that tour – it was just so chaotic at times”.  

The Flow In Between sold well internationally for them, and the EU bookings were steady, yet it seemed always to this writer that it was getting increasingly difficult to see them here in Aarhus or let-alone find their records in one of the many physical shops. In fact, I ordered my copy of “Fuzz Club Sessions” from England (the 2018 Ltd edition live-in-studio EP, first to feature the re-vamped TOMAD line-up), and it took weeks to get here (You can fly direct from AAR to Stanstead though for less than the price of a beer and be wheels down in 1.5 hours). Something was rotten somewhere.

The difference between The Flow In Between and Fragile Absolutes is significant in almost every way. All plusses though if you’ve gotten this far. WHEN one was able to catch TOMAD in this constellation between records, I always had the feeling there was something über-special about their sound. It was like something was gestating, brewing…fermenting even. ZRN seemingly would cycle through a period as well, ESS and Christian seemed to dichotomize the sound picture. TOMAD at times would be more punky or gothic, while ZRN would move into territory that was more ambient, improvisatory and even post-modernist ‘classical’. It seemed like the two groups had a significant impact on each other – which makes sense with the personnel being partly the same, but yet able to morph under a different moniker and (for lack of a better term) ‘power dynamic shift’. At any rate – TOMAD was evolving and peeling away from the “Psych” or “Shoegaze” pigeonholes that seemed to be applied by the lesser astute of my colleagues over the decade.  

With the departure Of Vilsgaard as co-lead, That left Soendergaard in full creative control of the group. This is one of the important dynamic shifts that lead to the content and feel of “Fragile Absolutes”. Far from being a 3-legged cat however – Soendergaards growth as an atmospheric composer and arranger in a more widescreen cinematic format was amplified. With the departure of Vilsgaard, also left the final leanings of TOMAD being justifiably a “Psych” outfit. The darker hues of something weightier and more substantial began covering the band like strangler vines around the once verdant trees of the woods.

“Fragile Absolutes” was recorded in several different locations – initial basic tracking began a few years ago in Aarhus’s Tapetown studios. Tapetown’s penchant for recording “Alternative” and “Indie” genres served as a template for a slightly more bombastic base coat to several of the numbers. For whatever reason, TOMAD decided to complete the recording in various settings where they could hack away at it. A cabin on the west coast of Jutland is mentioned (the closest thing Denmark has to an artic desert), and various bits and pieces here and there. I’m sure all of this adds to the mystery surrounding the record, but the end result and finished ‘product’ is a record that is produced by the band with an air of achieving perfection in whatever it is they first set out to do.

Knowing the genesis and long gestation of the record – I see this as a re-birth for the band. They might not notice it. A heap of things in the band’s own personal life have also necessitated the change. Some members became parents themselves, geographical and logistical strife caused periods of inactivity and even as I write, a global pandemic has altered the way the band has to plan live bookings. I hate to say something as pedestrian as: “you gotta roll with the punches”, but this record existing at all, let alone being the masterpiece that I truly deem it to be, is no small feat. 

The Review

In my 2016 review of “The Flow In Between” I ended up calling it “Probably the greatest record to come out of Jutland”. Before we get going on the breakdown – I’ll have to amend that bold statement from 4 years ago and relegate “TFIB” to “Probably the best record to come out of Jutland as of 2015”. Fragile Absolutes has frogged its way into #1 for me. Shucks – I’m even going to have to one-up myself here. It’s my favorite Danish album, ever. There’s a LOT of great albums out of my adopted home country too. Laban 4 comes to mind….

“Fragile Absolutes” kicks off with the wallop of the monastic meets Viking cinema “Distances”. It’s evident that they are picking up in context where some of “The Flow In Between” leaves off (see: “Sisters”). There’s a heavier texture of orchestration underneath which basically weaves it way through the record. There are shimmering jangly bits layered with piano, synths and whatever the hell else they used bathed in subtle sustained feedback. This continues into the slightly dirgy title track “Fragile Absolutes”. The monotonic guitar lines giving way to almost plainsong layered choirs underpinned by some subtle tinkling on the ivories and a chugging and building rhythm section that leads into orchestral stabs at a climax and finally a resolution.

“Crippled Figurines” treads on more familiar territory in a sense. The Percussion is sidelined, instead being inferred by a gently strummed acoustic guitar set in counterpoint by the ever- present drone and simple right-handed synth melody, comfortingly recalling something that wouldn’t be out of place on a late 80s Depeche Mode album. All this mood is closer in reality to say, an early Fever Ray track rather than a gothic synth-pop piece and retaining the best integral bits of each.

With “Flawed Beliefs” we’re back to the structure of the opening gambit of the record – the ever-present drone met by delicate flights of neatly layered butterfly kisses from unidentified hands. “Flawed Beliefs” builds again upon a simple but effective passage, subtly and organically changing shape to a cacophony of doom until disappearing.

“Wear Your Skin” again pairs the dulcet tones of fluttering sprinkles of what sounds like hammer dulcimer with a tightly layered cauldron of foreboding flares in the lower register. You wouldn’t be wrong for hearing traces of Cocteau Twins or even “Pornography”-era Cure, hence why some folks can’t resist attaching a “Goth” accreditation to TOMAD on this album cycle. I’m not sure Goth is such a dirty word anymore – I’ve dabbled myself and in these Isolation times – I don’t think anyone should blame me. “Deconstructed and Dissolved” follows this mood perfectly, plunging the listener further down the k-hole of the world in flames while simultaneously being frozen in the wasteland that our collective esoterism has created.

“Entropy” and “Consoling Words” again bring us back to the now familiar overall vibe of the record. Infinite layers of aurally pleasing yet disturbing symphonic drones paired with a slowly plodding and ever-present funeral march of backbone.

You’d be forgiven for being lulled into a sense of not knowing where the album begins or ends at this point in the record – but the whole affair is masterfully shuttered with the somewhat surprisingly delicate and bare “Remnants” – where for the first time, a simple piano and vocal are to the fore of the mix. There is something heartbreakingly haunting about Soendergaard’s vocals on the closing number – finally pushed into the theoretical spotlight, yet still fragile and nearly incomprehensible. It’s a perfect ending to the constant wash of dark matter and symphonic pummeling of the previous 8 tracks.

“Fragile Absolutes” as a whole, is damaging in its epic-ness. I know “epic” is thrown around a lot in somewhat ironic terms by suited frat boys on TV, but I honestly can’t think of another term for what this LP puts you through. From the invocational wallop of the opening numbers and the adagios and lulls of the moodier tracks, it’s quite an emotional roller coaster. Everyone I know who has heard any of these tracks all drop references to “Soundtrack”, “Nordic” and “Dark”. I’m happy to agree, even if I can’t offer up a pigeonhole of a mini-sub sub- genre to attach to it. The remnants of Shoegaze and Neo-Psych are still evident, these are the kind of bands that TOMAD will always be billed with – but “Fragile Absolutes” is their most powerful and complete work to date. While the bulk of the writing may be Christian Soendergaard’s singular vision now, What the rest of the band add to the mix is staggeringly appropriate and serve the material with a reverence and aplomb that is rarely found in a band that have been through this massive of a personnel shift since their last record. My only wish on several of the songs is that there were more dynamic builds and decrescendos – adding to the romantic and cinematic appeal of some of the “louder” cuts on the LP. This only means that it can evolve and grow live in my book – and for my dollar, I can’t wait to see what TOMAD can do in full flight with this material and line-up at a proper concert whenever that is possible. That will have to occur in 2021 though. Thanks Corona virus.  

Words - Bobby McBride

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