#something about a boy in a Nike tech

[whoevenisthiz]

[gloxk]

Think she grippin’ on my dick but that’s my gun baby~

(Eren Y.)

A/n: Lil sum sum— srry fa neglecting yall. My schedule is so fuckkkkkeedd. But, I got sum more ‘plug’ eren comin up for my luvz. Anyway I hope yall enjoy this my luvz🫶🏽!

Synopsis: First link w Eren Yeager after not seeing him in a long time. ♥︎

Warning (s): Gun kink , dirty talk, Eren talking you through it, Mentions of drugs, riding an inanimate object, f/m, Uhm like reader calls him sir? Pet names, Needy s*x, Smut, ovi. girl yk the deal 17+ around here!

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You kicked your feet while biting your bottom lip, “Yeah, I know you miss me, baby.” You cheesed at his comments. Eren knew exactly what to say, his words were so sweet and slick. “Of course I miss you ren. When you gon come see me?” You heard his music blaring through his speakers. This boy really had you thinking about him every second of the day and night. “Whatchu mean? I’m outside right now ma.” You nearly took flight running down to the front door. It felt like time was nothing more than a mere interference with your speed. You swung your door open , your smile instantly dropped looking at your empty driveway “Fucking asshole, you lied.” He cackled as if you said something funny. “Nah I’m here.” He flicked his head lights grabbing your attention, you forgot his car was completely black. You didn’t understand why he would make his Hellcat so dark. Didn’t he want people to see it?

You smiled seeing him get out of his car, he looked so fucking fine in his Nike tech. To say you were nervous was an understatement, you were terrified. Knees nearly buckled as Eren approached the door. You gulped back your salvia, it felt like swallowing a golf ball. “Heyyy baby.” His lips met your cheek, it’s been so long since you saw Eren. His voice held a sweet tang and a long draw to it. His fragrance was a mix of Dior Sauvage and Backwoods. His eyes spoke for themselves; red and low. “Eren—are you high?” you pulled his face closer to yours. Examining his eyes—yeah, he was fucking hammered. “When am I not?” He flashed his pearly whites, you always wonder how he got his teeth so nice and white. If perfection was a human it had to be him, there was no visible flaw within that man. “You gonna smoke your brain away if you keep it up.” You closed the door and walked with him up to your bedroom. Eren looked at you with a soft expression, his eyes locked on to yours. “Aww, you care about me, baby? Fine, I guess I have no choice but to do as you wish.”He jokingly replied. Eren didn’t have many people who cared for him, so it was nice to know you were one of the very few.

Eren found himself in your bed once again, he nuzzled into your neck while a basic Netflix movie played. He wasn’t particularly interested in the movie, and you were aware of this. But he acted like he was excited to watch it. Your hands ran over his thigh grazing over his dick. Fingertips wrapping around it. “Damn Ren, you must be very happy to see me huh?” you giggle sinking into your bed lining. Eren's dark jade eyes met yours, the lower part of his face was covered by his hand. Unbeknownst to you, he had a new hand tattoo; a skeleton face—damn he looked fine. “That ain’t my dick, that’s my gun baby.” He laid on his back, his shirt slightly lifting revealing the weapon. You couldn’t resist wrapping your fingers around the handle of his gun; it was calling your name. You held it in your hand admiring the weapon, it alone held the power to remove a soul from this world.

“You like it?” he took the gun away from your grasp. He parted your thighs placing the cold metal against your cunt. “Yes sir.” You bit your lip at the sheer cold touching you. The hairs on your neck stood up, it was so dangerous, it turned you on. He slid your panties over letting the blistering cold metal meet your pussy. The gun started at a gentle pace, moving slowly against your clit. Erens lips occupied your neck; kissing and sucking it. His tongue lightly brushed over your collarbone, you felt his tongue piercing glide against your skin. You rutted hard against his gun trying to relieve the built-up pressure in your abdomen. You didn’t want his gun, you wanted him. You wanted him to fuck you silly until you could no longer comprehend your surroundings. “Fuucck, I need more ren, I need you.” The gun hastily left your thighs. “I need you too ma.” His mouth met his glock licking your slick off of it. Eren's lips pressed firmly together creating a ‘mmm’ sound. He got on top of you pressing his chest against yours. You felt his bulge through his sweatpants, his dick was begging to be left free. He pulled his sweat pants down, just below his crotch panel. Your fingertips slipped under his elastic waistband; tugging his boxers downwards. His dick pounced out, an angry red color washed over his tip. “Fuck, it’s been too long.” He stroked his dick letting the bead of pre cum coat his tip. Eren slid inside inch by inch, he grunted feeling your heat. “Damn baby, I ain’t fuck you good in a minute huh? You miss this dick?” You nodded quickly, yes—you missed everything about him. His hand wrapped around your mouth looking at his tattoo covering your face. It turned him on seeing it on you— whether his hand was around your throat, mouth, or ass. It always looked so perfect on you.

Eren tugged your shirt up watching your tits bounce as he pounded into you. You tried to push him away from overstimulating your cunt “Nah, This what you wanted right? Take this dick.” He grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulder, he fucked you faster making you scream out. You could have sworn you put holes in the sheets because you were gripping them so tightly. You threw your head back clenching around Erens cock. Your body jolted at your release, finally letting go of that pressure you once had. “Ahh- fuck-“ you moaned while subtly grinding against his abdomen. His pace faltered, but not ending, Eren didn’t stop fucking you until he came all over your stomach. By then you were already on your third orgasm. He positioned himself beside you kissing your neck while tracing circles on your arm. “I know you love that shit.” He sighed, he was a fool for you as you were for him. He loved looking at your fucked out expression knowing he was the reason you looked like that.

“Mhm, I do, I really fucking do.” He grabbed his gun again setting it down on your chest, “That’s my favorite gun now, ima get your name carved in it.” That gun will forever be by his side from now on.

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4 my whores.

[thelazybard]

idk if you do modern AU, but it could be really cool like a modern au of the clones from Bad Batch + rex and cody in like university. what would they study, what hobbies, what would they wear! idk

or maybe like in the y/n s/o perspective how they would help them study through finals and midterms?

love ur writing 🫶🫶🫶

I love university AUs sm ughh

Modern!The Bad Batch +Rex +Cody x GN!Reader: The boys as university students

Rex:

Style: Athleisure for sure. Something presentable enough to attend class in but also hit up the gym in after. The same sneakers almost every day, and his gold chain.

Major: Philosophy

Study dates: In his dorm when Cody is out. You both fit into his twin bunk and quiz each other with flash cards.

Cody:

Style: Done up, slacks and a sweater every day for sure. I imagine him in brown loafers and gold jewelry.

Major: Engineering

Study dates: Out at a cafe with free wifi. He prefers outdoor seating so the two of you can have a bit more privacy while also enjoying nature, but he won't subject you to that in the winter. You doublecheck his math for him and quiz him on the different formulas he's got to memorize.

Hunter:

Style: Jeans, boots, and a graphic tee of some sort. A denim or leather jacket in the winter.

Major: Forestry/Environmental Science

Study date: Outdoors at campus, usually under a tree the two of you can lean back on. He brings snacks and a blanket each time, and the two of you study for your respective midterms in a comfortable silence until you fall asleep on his shoulder.

Echo:

Style: Similar to Rex's. Athleisure, but more boyish. Graphic tees of his favorite show and Nike sweatshorts.

Major: Biomedical engineering

Study dates: At your dorm because Fives always has a girl over. He tries to focus on studying but ends up getting distracted by the various doodads around your room, which results in you getting the great idea of holding him down and doing your skincare routine on him. No studying gets done.

Wrecker:

Style: He's the guy that wears shorts whether it's warm or not. A black pullover hoodie is a closet staple. (He let's girls borrow it so be ready to argue about that). Socks and sandals 100%.

Major: Sport's Medicine or Physics.

Study dates: In his dorm. He sits at his desk with you in his lap and you make him create/study quizlets. He takes breaks frequently to snuggle and kiss you.

Tech:

Style: Slacks, polo and blazer. Thinks you need to look your best to do your best. Him and Wrecker fuss over each other's styles constantly.

Major: Double majoring in Aerospace Engineering and Computer Science.

Study dates: In the STEM building in one of the many study spaces. He says what he's learned out loud to you to better adhere it in his noggin. He takes you out to ice cream after to make up for the lack of romance during the actual study part.

Crosshair:

Style: Dark academia on days he has a presentation. Rest of the time? Sweatpants and a black shirt. Something he can jump right back into bed in.

Major: I'm sorry but he's so a business major. Actually I'm not sorry.

"Study" dates: You go to his dorm and make out while a business textbook is open nearby. Studying!!

[gghostwriter]

I've been thinking so very hard about Spencer with a professional wrestler whose pretty strong and she meets the team like they go out or something? and somehow it leads to her drunkenly picking Garcia up just to prove she can. sorry this is all over the place...

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader Trope: Established Relationship; Fluff! Just fluff! wc: 1.3k A/N: Apologies it took a while, I was having ups and downs with my writing. I also don’t know much about wrestling so I tried my best in incorporating the request. Not proofread. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗 Main masterlist

Lightweight. // Spencer Reid

Breathe in. Breathe out.

The beating organ nestled by your ribs threaten to flutter right out of its cage. Its drumming rhythm echoing loudly in your ears, a secret staccato only you could hear. 

Breathe in. Breathe out.

A chant soon accompanied the rhythm. Litany of words that you’ve learned to whisper for no one to hear but Nike—the goddess of victory. It was your prayer before stepping on the padded mat and it’s invisible barrier of a circle that dictates who wins and loses. 

Breathe in. Breathe out.

The rough texture of your faded blue jeans against your clammy palms drag you down to the present. The mirage of a gymnasium filled with spectators and judges replaced with faded red brick walls and neon blinding lights that read ‘bar open’. Tonight was a different kind of battle. It didn’t require your muscles being worn down to its core, wrestling an opponent as eagerly thirsty for a qualifying spot for the Olympics team—the type of mental and physical combat you’ve prepped for all your early formative years. No, tonight was a match to impress your boyfriend’s found family—a team of highly respected profilers for the FBI. 

A warm calloused hand intertwined with yours, its hold familiar and soothing. “They’ll love you regardless,” Spencer murmured words of encouragement. The man you’ve fallen in love with always knew where your mind went like the back of his own hand. It was as if he had found an ancient decoder meant just to qualm your fears and ease your nerves. 

You nodded once, feeling grateful for the man he was. “Okay, I’m ready.” 

He leaned in for a whispered kiss. So light and quick as if they were the hummingbird’s wings. It was a welcome distraction, the kind that had you on your tip toes following its wake as he pulled away. 

“What was that?”

“A kiss for courage,” he smiled before pushing the glass door open, allowing a waft of stale beer and grease entice you inside. 

As the sun start to set outside, the place slowly started to come alive. The bartenders were stockpiling up crates of alcohol for the upcoming Friday night crowd and the early birds were busy choosing the optimal spot for their night of good company and bad decisions. The set of profilers sitting around a booth, tucked against the wall, were no different. 

A blur of blond hair and glitter side-way tackled you into a hug. 

“Oh you must be her,” she gushed in this high pitch voice, visibly bouncing from excitement. “I’m so happy to finally meet you! I really tried my best to not invade your privacy but—what am I saying, I’m Penelope Garcia! You can call me Pen, Penny, Garcia, your resident tech—” she leaned in for another squeezing hug. “—anything at all really and I can tell we’d be really great friends!” 

A chuckle escaped from the man standing beside your boyfriend. If you could take a guess, this must be Derek Morgan—the pseudo older brother. “Baby girl, breathe. You’d scare her away if you don’t.” 

“Derek Morgan, don’t make me hate you,” the bracelets on her arm jingled as she hit his muscular defined bicep. 

“Like you could ever,” he teased back before reaching over for a handshake. “Derek Morgan, it’s finally nice to meet the girl who’s got our pretty boy flustered.” 

You smiled, accepting his hand with a firm grip and introduced yourself. “It’s great to meet you too—” you turned to flash Penelope a smile. “—the both of you. I’ve heard a lot of things—”

“Only good things, right?” 

Spencer’s flushed, clearing his throat, as your giggle gave him away. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“Kid, you have some explaining to do,” Derek teasingly threatened before clearing a path to the table occupied by four more people. “Come, meet the rest of the team.”

———

The neon bright lights of the bar were starting to streak in your vision. Its’ concrete floor feeling mush beneath your feet and the voices from your boyfriend’s founded family muffled as if you were straining to hear from underwater.

You giggled. Everything felt different—not bad different or good, just different.

It was official, you were walking the tight, tight rope between sobriety and tipsy territory.

“Sweetheart, I need you to drink this for me, okay?” Spencer’s worried voice broke through the alcohol haze with a glass of liquid in his hand.

You nodded once, a sweet smile stretching your lips. “Hmm—okay.”

“Kid, I didn’t expect your girlfriend to be lightweight,” the burly man—Derek Morgan, you belatedly remembered his name—observed.

“She doesn’t usually drink—” Spencer paused to watch you take small sips of water. “—a little more, sweetheart, I need you to drink a little bit more—drink this much at all.”

You gulped, fingers pushing the glass away from your pouting lips. “Off season, Spence. Coach—coach won’t know and besides I’m not drunk.” The slurring of words didn’t help make your lie any more believable. “I’m really not drunk.”

“I know, I know but I wish you’d pace the drinks more,” his lithe calloused fingers pushed the loose tendrils away from your face. “I don’t want you to wake up with a headache tomorrow.”

You hummed in agreement, your chest warming from his need to take care of you. He had always been this way—it was one of the many things that made you fall for him. How he always placed you as top priority the best he could and how he showed up for every wrestling competition you had. The memory of him with a bouquet of flowers in his hands and a big smile on his face as you won the qualifying match to enter the Olympics wrestling team was the moment when you knew he was the one.

A giggle escaped from your newly found best friend, Penelope. “Prove it.” 

“Prove what?” 

“That—” her pink nail finger pointed at you then at her, hiccuping as she did. “—you are not drunk.”

Spencer immediately tried to shut it down. “No, no. There’s no need to prove it, sweetheart. I believe you.” 

Your eyes narrowed, having caught a whiff of a challenge and by default, you were never one to back down. “How do I do that?”

“By carrying me, of course!” She clapped her hands with glee.

“Oh no, no. There’s really no need to prove it,” your boyfriend vehemently pleaded.

You pouted your lips. The arresting, pleading look that painted your face was Spencer’s kryptonite. It was the same look that had him on his knees, willing to give you anything you wanted. 

“You don’t think I could do it?”

“Of course not. I know you could do it, sweetheart—”

A grin broke from your face, taking his answer as affirmation. And before he could even finish his sentence, you had gotten up on your seat and sloppily crossed the table to Penelope.

“Up you get, princess.” 

She squealed, bouncing up from her seat, trembling from excitement.

You shot Spencer a look of challenge with its matching smirk before weaving your arms around her waist and the back of her knees and bracing your thighs and core for a princess-style lift. 

“Told you I could do it,” you proudly stated as Penelope landed back on the ground with giggles erupting from her mouth.

Morgan hooted with pride.

“Never doubted you for one second,” Spencer smiled.

Emily raised her bottle of beer as if to cheer for your win.

JJ quickly interjected. “Ooh, me next!” 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[maethegay]

Make up

A/n: I am no good at skincare, make up or fashion but I tried gang please forgive also this is way longer than I thought it was gonna be oops.

I grew up with two parents in the army and my two older brothers. We moved around a lot I never really made friends moving every few months or even years made it hard.

I was also incredibly socially awkward so that didn’t help when it came to making friends. I had my brothers and basketball to me that was enough.

I was six when my dad got me my first basketball. He taught me a few things and I became obsessed. Every day after school I’d go to the court near my house and spend hours dribbling and shooting. Some times my brothers came but they had their own things.

Caleb my oldest brother made friends super easy he always managed to have a group of people around him. And Adam my younger brother liked soccer. He tried to teach me to play but it was not for me.

Anyway due to the fact I struggled to make friends and the only people I talked to where my parents and brothers I never learned how to do anything with make up or fashion.

Not that I didn’t try. Whenever I did I ended up looking like a little boy. I did prefer a more masculine dress but I could never find an outfit that fit me. I am ashamed to admit but I do have more than one Nike tech outfit in my closet.

When Geno recruited me from UConn it was like a dream. I first got to the team and I was so awkward but Nika helped. She sat down right next to me and started talking.

She was my first friend and she helped me make friends on the team. And in class and on campus.

Now I was in my last year of college. Me and Nika had been dating for over two years and I had more friends than I thought possible.

My head rested on her chest, her hand gently tangling through my hair. My hand rested on her stomach drawing shapes against her soft skin.

Everything was perfect except one thing. I never really felt pretty. I wanted to do make up and dress how I would think looks good. But whenever I try I just get turned around and confused.

Nika was good at fashion and makeup she always looked good. I had thought about asking her so many times to help me. But it was something I never really knew how to bring up.

Another part of me never bringing it up was pressure from past relationships. When I had tried to do this stuff with past relationships and I had been told no cause ‘Mascs shouldn’t care about that stuff’.

Obviously now being with Nika I know those relationships were toxic but I still couldn’t get rid of the thoughts.But Nika was different I knew she wouldn’t get upset.

“Ni?” I murmur pulling away slightly to look at her. She smiled softly and brushed my hair from my face. “Can you help me with like fashion and stuff. I know I don’t really act like I care but I wanna feel pretty sometimes to ya know.”

Nika gave me a giddy smile cupping my face in her hand. She had asked to do my makeup and skincare before but as you know internalized hate from my exs made me to scared.

“Of course. Tomorrow 8am I’m taking you on a shopping spree and for tonight baby we’re doing skincare.”

I smiled and took her hand dragging her to the bathroom. I jumped up onto the counter and looked at her as she grabbed a bunch of stuff and put it on the counter.

“Frog head band or shark,” she said showing me two fluffy head bands.

“Shark obviously.” I say snatching the head band from her left hand. She smiled and put on the other.

“Now this is definitely not something to do every night. But it is fun once every now and then.” I nod an watch her grab the first bottle turn out this first bottle was like one of a million things we would be doing.

After like 7 other steps she put a face mask on me. I made the horrible mistake of licking my lips.

“Ew Nika this tastes horrible.” I say as I spit in the sink which did not make the horrible soapy taste leave my mouth. Nika laughed and kissed my lips.

“You’re not supposed to get in your mouth.” She laughed and she pulled off the mask. She used a washcloth and rubbed of the extra residue.

There were a few more steps and I was practically falling asleep by the time Nika was done. I smiled leaning my head against her shoulder. I still sat on the counter, Nikas hand scratched my back and she kissed my head.

“Come on baby. Big day tomorrow.” She said, her hands slid under my thighs and lifted me off the counter. I wrapped my arms around her neck.

Nika always made me feel safe and comfortable. She helped me break down my shell and let me feel like I could be well a girl.

She carried me over to the bed and laid me down pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“I love you Nika,” I mumble as I close my eyes pulling our blanket up to cover my face.

“I love you too. I’m glad you feel safe with me.” She said laying behind me. Her hand grabbed my hip and pulled me into her my back colliding with her front.

“Mhm,” I mumble as Nika’s hands dipped under my shirt to trace more shapes on my torso. It’s something she had always done and something I had always loved.

I woke up before Nika she slept comfortably I smiled and pulled her close to me. I held her close to me. My hand gently scratching her back.

I leaned back and looked at the clock it was only 6:30 and I decided I’d let her sleep in awhile longer. I was comfortable and the feeling of the brunette’s body against mine was perfect.

I still struggled to believe she was mine. The Croatian who laid in front of me was simply unfathomable to my mind.

She was actual perfection. She was beautiful, her silky brown hair and big brown doe eyes. She was hilarious without even trying. She so was determined I’ve never seen someone work so hard.

I heard a whine come softly from her mouth, that was how I knew she was walking up. I kissed her head and looked down her big eyes looking at me.

Nika was not a morning person she whines and shut her eyes slamming her head into my chest. I laughed tangling my hand in her hair holding her head against my chest.

“We gotta go shopping baby. Pretty me up and shit,” I whisper, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. She looked up and me glaring slightly.

“You’re already pretty. You just dress like a 10 year old boy.” She said her voice strong with her accent. I smiled and laughed with her. “I’m going to call my parents and then love we’re going shopping.”

“Ok baby,” I say leaning back in the pillows as Nika got up and walked to the bathroom. She always got ready while she talked to her parents.

I laid in bed staring at the ceiling, eventually I fell back asleep. I didn’t even know until I heard Nika laughing her ass off. I peeled my eyes opened and glared at her.

“What is so funny,” I said my voice cracking since I had just woke up again. She laughed and turned her phone to me.

It was a picture of me. Not only was I knocked out asleep, but my mouth was wide open and had hair all over the place.

“Nika Muhl you better delete that,” I say reaching for her phone she turned away pulling it to her chest.

“But you’re so cute,” she said sticking out her bottom lip in a pout. She leans down and kisses my lips.

“You better not show no one that,” I mutter as I stumble to the bathroom. I promptly get ready, brushing my hair and teeth and pulling on some baggy jeans and a white tee. “I’m ready to go shopping,” I say jumping out of the bathroom and looking at Nika who laid on our now made bed.

She looked up from her phone and smiled at me. I walked over and leaned slightly forward again for bed frame.

“I’m so excited. And I ordered Starbucks for while we shop so we need to pick it up.” She tells me grabbing her purse from the night stand. I push myself up and take her hand in mine

We had decided to take Nika’s car since it was better on gas and much smaller than my truck so leaving after shopping at that mall which would be almost certainly packed since it was Saturday would be easier.

I insisted on driving even though she had volunteered. Nika wants to drive most of the time and I’m not complaining but I felt useless if I didn’t. She was planning the whole day to help me the least I could do was drive.

We made a quick stop at the Starbucks just off campus and I ran inside to grab me and Nika’s drinks. She got a matcha of some sort and she had order my favorite drink for me.

The drive to the mall we had decided to go to, well Nika decided we go to was about an hour away from campus. Hence us waking up early to go. We left around 9 so we’d get there just as the shops open.

I’m not one for crowds so going when it’s first opening when there are less people is for the better.

The whole drive Nika’s hand rested on my thigh. We talked now and again about school, and she told me how her family was doing back in Croatian. We spoke about my oldest brothers wedding which was coming up in about 2 months and how we still needed to get Nika a dress.

We reached the mall, the parking lot was slowly filling up but not full enough to where we couldn’t find a spot.

“Where to first?” I ask, usually I only went to a store or two. Most of what I wore was the same plain shirt is 2 dozen colors, sweat pants and jeans.

“Well I made a pin board while we drove. It’s just some things I think look good and we could see what you like or don’t like.” She leaned over showing me her phone which somehow had 100 pins.

I nodded and told her which things I liked and didn’t like. I didn’t care for the shoulderless shirts, or the random flannels or extra unbuttoned shirts that were different color.

Nika didn’t seem offended when I said things she just nodded, removed the pin and moved on asking if I liked the next outfit.

I found I liked the baggier pants, and jorts especially with baggy shirts. Which I also helped me find I liked graphic tees and when they had long sleeves under.

Nika told me I liked streetwise aesthetic which i didn’t really get but I nodded along anyway.

Nika lead me into like 7 different stores where I managed to try on 20 different things every time. I didn’t like everything some shirts were to boxy and some of the pants drooped to low for my liking.

There were some things I loved though and after the first few stores of the day my arms were full of bags.

I was happy but damn was I tired. I flopped down on a bench and rested my head on Nika’s stomach as she stood in front of me. She laughed and ran her hand up and down my back.

“How are you feeling,” she asked as I looked up at her.

“Girl I am so tired,” I groan “How do people do this for fun?” I ask leaning my head back. A laugh fell from Nika’s lips.

I loved when she laughed. Sometimes I just talked about dumb stuff because I knew Nika would laugh. It was so perfect every time. I think it was one of the first things I fell in love with about her.

“Admit it you were having funny when you were trying things on.” She said as she set a few of my bags down on the ground next to us. I smiled and looked back at her.

“Yeah I guess it was kinda fun playing dress up.” I smile and kiss her temple. “Where to next?” I ask picking up the bags.

“Let’s go drop these off at the car. And the take a quick trip to Sephora and maybe Ulta.” she said, I nodded and followed behind her to the car. We loaded everything in the trunk and a few bags in the back seat.

Nika took my hand and lead me into the store. This was what I was most nervous about. At least I kinda understood clothes makeup did not make sense. Sure I have watched Nika do her make up hundreds of times but none of it made sense.

“I don’t think we’re gonna get foundation I know you don’t like having to much on your face.” She said as she pulled me towards the concealer.

“You’re right. I would feel like I’m wearing face paint all the time.” I agree as I follow behind her. Her eyes looked between the seemingly dozens of different concealers.

She would look at me and the back and the concealer. She would grab one then look at me again and grab another one. She had about six different shades after a few minutes. If you asked me it was excessive but than again I’m not a makeup person.

“Give me your wrist.” Nika said with an outstretched hand. I reached out my arm so she could test the concealer. She did a swatch and then would tell me about how it was too orange or too light.

To be honest I zoned out and just thought about how cute her voice was and how concentrated she looked as she compared the different colors to my skin. God she’s cute.

“I think this one will be good. Don’t you love?” She said pointing to the fifth swatch on my arm. I looked down and sure enough it blended into my skin quite well.

“Oh that’s nice.” My eyes trailed the rest of my arm “I kinda look like a zebra.” I say twisting my arm in the light, she laughs softly and puts the concealers away minus the one I was getting of course.

“Let’s get some blush, mascara, eyelash curler, eye brow gel and a brush. And ooo primer. We can just get you the kind I like. And then you already have a collection of summer Fridays so we’re good there.”

90% of what Nika has just said didn’t make sense to me. Summer Fridays did though. For some reason I tried Nika’s one time and fell in love with it. I had every flavor minus the mint one. I don’t like mint.

We bought the rest of the stuff and holy shit was make up expensive. Nika also explained to me I can’t just get make up wipes I should use micellar water so make up doesn’t get in my pores.

We drove home. Nika drove this time while I slept in the passenger seat for some reason I could play an entire basketball game running up and down the court but shopping wore me out like a bitch.

Eventually we got home and I ended up sitting on the counter again Nika standing between my legs.

“Can’t we do this tomorrow?” I groan laying my head on her shoulder. It was 4pm there was really no point of putting on makeup. She smiled and wrapped her arms around me.

“I suppose so… but make up is so fun. Trust me baby.” I nod and think it over for a moment.

“Alright. Pretty me up pretty girl.” I say leaning back and resting on my hands.

“Ok this is primer. It makes it easy for makeup to be applied basically.” She says, as she puts a few drops on my face. She gently rubs it into my face.

“It feels sticky,” I murmur.

“Then concealer. You put this over discoloration eye bags really anything you want to cover up. Here.” She hands it to me and i but small swatch’s under my eyes and a a few other places.

Nika takes one of the brushes we bought and blended in into my skin, blush filler next, then she did my eyes brows an eye lashes.

Fun fact you’re not supposed to close your eyes when you curl your eye lashes. The more you know know I guess.

I hoped off the counter and looked in the mirror. I smiled, I felt pretty. Nikas stood behind me arms wrapped around my waist her head resting on my shoulder.

“You look beautiful my love. Not because of the make up, there’s just this energy radiating off of you.” She says as she kisses my cheek.

“Thank you Nika. For everything.”

[bizzybkd]

Cornbread (1)

Killmonger x pregnant!reader / part one

Warnings: None, just super fluffy, and in this AU, Erik’s father never left Wakanda but he did pass at the same time as in canon, Erik just grew up surrounded by the rest of his family instead

As you looked amongst your closet, the growing mound on your front told you that most of your clothing wouldn’t properly fit you anymore right now. Carrying your fiancé’s big headed baby boy had given you enough reason to buy larger sized clothing ahead of time. Of course, most of the clothes you wore were Erik’s, seeing as he was almost an entire foot taller than you.

You reached your hand inside and pulled out one of Erik’s Nike tech outfits, the much larger size telling you that as long as you didn’t spill anything on it, and your baby didn’t suddenly decide to come two weeks early and have your water break whilst sitting on the couch, Erik wouldn’t be upset once he saw you in it.

Said man had already taken his leave to go to work, a job you knew very little about but didn’t care to know much. You had your dream Cadillac in the garage and subscriptions to Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime, HBO Max, and Disney+ and more than enough good food in the kitchen. Whether it needed to be made or even just removed from the packaging, you couldn’t be happier with the selection. Erik always made sure you had your favorites, which at the time were goldfish crackers, plantain chips, ice cold water from your preferred refillable water bottle, and your soon-to-be Auntie-in-law’s homemade cornbread, which Erik would either take you to get personally from her in Wakanda or he would go get himself.

For a royal family that could have any chef they desired and any food they could ask for at their finger tips, Queen Mother making cornbread always seemed to brighten your mood no matter what.

As you looked in the fridge for your cornbread, you looked at the container the cornbread was in had been gone, and taking a quick glance at the sink, you knew exactly why.

‘You ate the last piece of cornbread?!’ You sent to your fiancé’s phone, fingertips typing ten words a second at how furious you were becoming. How dare he! Taking the last piece of cornbread he knew you loved and knew he wouldn’t have time to get for another few days due to work. How dare he taken something quick to eat in his late morning that you had wanted first!

After five minutes passed of you staring at the message sitting on “delivered”, it finally changed to “read 11:27am”.

‘…’

‘…’

‘Babygirl, there was only one piece left.’ He replied, having deleted and retyped his message three times as the dots had told on him.

‘That was my last piece! Now there isn’t anymore and I want some! When can we get more?’

‘Maybe Thursday, (Y/n). I don’t know, I shouldn’t be talking right now, okay? I’ll get you your cornbread.’

You glared at the message and simply put a ‘thumbs up’ on it in reply, letting out a long groan of frustration before putting a hand over your belly, in your act of anger, you had forgotten to actually get something to eat. Getting up with a huff, you trudged to the kitchen with much less gumption that you had before. Pulling the box of Lucky Charms cereal from the cabinet and the oat milk from the fridge, you made yourself a quick bowl of cereal, leaving everything out by you as you knew you would want another few bowls.

An hour or so later, still saddened by the lack of cornbread as you munched on the bland tasting plantain chips you had beside you. The mediocre game show on screen made you cringe, it was obvious the contestants were guessing wrong on purpose to the easiest questions just to make the episode hit its target screen time. It annoyed you to no end, but seeing as you binged all your shows and wouldn’t dare taint your mind’s taste buds by risking a new show or movie, you settled.

Out of boredom, you decided to treat yourself, you were cornbread-less, patience-less, and had what the doctors assumed to be a seven to eight pound baby in your belly. Wakanda was only a short ten hour trip by flight, and practically 30 minutes if you could convince your cousin-in-law, Princess Shuri or King T’Challa to send a jet to your house.

You had always known about Erik, well, N’Jadaka, Erik simply being the name he took undercover when he came to America where he met you. You figured out pretty quickly he was the prince, shaving his beard, contacts and a switch from locs to a fade didn’t do as much disguising as he’d hoped, not from you anyway.

You kept his secret while you both attended MIT, as long as he promised to help you pass your physics and trigonometry courses. Aside from numbers and formulas, those weren’t the only things you were happy to take with you once you graduated.

Now having dated four years and being eight months pregnant, with a beautiful 4 carat engagement ring on your finger, and a very strong bond between your fiancé and his family, it wasn’t exactly uncommon for your pregnant self to call the princess and king if you needed something while Erik was at work.

Dialing Shuri’s kimono beads with your own she’s given you, it was almost immediately she answered, a large smile on her holographic face.

“(Y/n)!! It’s great to hear from you!! How are you and my nephew? Sleeping okay? Resting? Eating well?” She cried, the background of the hologram showing she must’ve been at work in her lab.

“Hello, Shuri, I’m doing very well thank you, M’Jabe too. Erik ate the last piece of Queen Mother’s cornbread this morning and I was hoping I’d be able to come get more? It’s really been the only thing keeping me—“

“Right away! I’ll speak with cousin later but for now you come here!!” Shuri interrupted, an interruption you couldn’t care less for as it meant you’d be getting what you wanted. “The jet will be there in ten minutes, shall you pack a bag and stay the night again?” She asked.

You’d stayed the night last month, having had phantom contractions that had easily convinced you that you were in labor. Seeing as it had been another four weeks since then, it was obvious you were wrong. Knowing you still had two weeks before your due date, you deemed yourself perfectly fine not to stay long, especially with how busy the royal family were already.

“No, Shuri, but thank you, I’ll stay again in a week or two since M’Jabe will be due then.” You assured her. She nodded solemnly but smiled. “That’s fine, but the next sleepover I’ll be meeting my nephew so I’ll be looking forward to that!”

You let out a laugh and nodded. You and Shuri continued to talk until the jet arrived, having put on a jacket to combat the nipping mid October weather and a pair of fuzzy slippers you loved. Okoye met you at the top of the stairs into the jet, giving you a smile as you walked in, lending you a hand up the steps as you used the other hand to hold your belly.

“Enkosi, General.” You smiled as she nodded and helped you to a seat.

“Of course, (Y/n), it’s good to see you’re doing well, I’d hoped you would with prince N’Jadaka.” She replied, earning a laugh from you and your son who kicked your kidney in agreement. God he wasn’t even born yet and he was heavy handed like his father.

The ride to Wakanda was short of course, and for good reason, you could only feel your drool escaping your lips as you nearer the great castle, as if smelling the cornbread being made already.

Erik called you after you landed and we’re being escorted inside.

“Why are you in Wakanda?” He asked almost immediately after you answered.

“I wanted my cornbread.” You replied matter-of-factly.

He let out an audible sigh. “You’re a trip..” he let out a soft chuckle before it turned into a light laugh. He loved your attitude, and his ability to tame it. “Don’t worry, Babygirl, I’ll be there soon. Tell Auntie and the other two I said hey.”

You smiled and walked along the long hallways with Okoye, her simply going about her duty alongside you. You couldn’t tell if she was just a master of not showing her opinions through her face, or if she truly tuned out your conversation. It didn’t really matter to you.

“Okay, baby, I’ll see you when you get here. And I forgive you for eating my cornbread.” You smiled, rubbing your belly gently.

He let out yet another laugh, but this one came from his gut, he truly found you amusing and that’s one of the things he truly loved about you. You loved his laugh as well.

“Thank you for forgiving me baby. I won’t touch your cornbread again.” He said in defeat, you could hear the smile in his voice and it made you blush. God, even after four years he could make you giggle like a school girl.

“Get here soon, me and M’Jabe miss you lots..” you admitted. Curse your pregnancy tongue.

Erik noticed the small difference in your tone, how sad you suddenly became at the thought of him being so far away. He hated doing that to you, no matter what his duties were. Of course, him working was to provide for the human you both created that was only days away from coming along. You and your baby were his priorities and everything else came second, so as much as he’d want to spend hours and hours tending to your pregnant form and giving you all the treatment you deserved, being able to stay with his family was the next best thing.

“How about you stay in Wakanda until my son comes along?” He asked you, knowing you had already discussed how you wanted to stay in the comfort in your own home until it was time. But you also knew that he was worried about that plan, what if you went into labor and he wasn’t home or couldn’t make it home, he’ll be damned before you had to take yourself to a rinky dunk hospital that charged almost 100k just for birthing the child and even just holding it afterwards, before the baby was born of course.

You went silent for a bit to think it over, you knew what he was worried about but also knew what you wanted. Being hormonal and pregnant, missing your fiancé who couldn’t be there for what you knew wouldn’t be another two hours, and in a castle you hadn’t spent more than a week at a time in, tears welled in your eyes.

You quickly wiped them away and did your best to hide the sudden spiral in your voice.

“How about we talk about that when you get here, baby, I don’t wanna make any decisions without looking each other in the face.” You said, mustering a smile.

Erik nodded, he knew that would make you feel better.

“Alright, baby, that sounds good. I’ll talk to you then, okay? I love you.” He finally said.

“I love you back..” you replied, hanging up the phone and letting soft tears fall as you made it to the thrown room.

Face to face was how you liked to handle things anyway. That how you got M’Jabe to be two weeks away to being in the world anyway.

Well… maybe not two weeks.

[fruiteggsaladit]

Fascinated by the concept of YYH everythings the same but everyone's got sports shoes rather than those weak half-sock-or-"idk a boot?" things

So I'm not a shoe-focused fashion-obsessor, least of all in relation to sports even though I LOVE drawing big sports shoes to jump and run in, but currently this is the vision:

(Note: I'd like to keep these non-anachronistic! Shoes from the 80s, early 90s, or perhaps even the 70s would be good, but I also want to keep in mind WHY they would be having the shoes from whatever year the shoes are from.)

Kuwabara in mostly white 1989 Reebok Pumps, they're so big and pumped?? They look really padded and tall, becoming reminiscent of Kuwa being the biggest and most muscular of the friend group. The 1980 Victory G is also pretty good. The Spot-Bilt X-Press 1986 would also be good!

Key words: tall and bulky (not boots, that's a different genre).

Kuwa strikes me as more economically secure than Yusuke (not rich), and can afford a new pair of shoes if he saves up for them, without much difficulty. Biggest difficulty would be abstaining from buying something else in the meantime.

Kurama is most remembered in his unaltered school uniform - Kuwa and Yusuke are also most remembered in their school uniforms, but theirs have been tailored to fit their own styles and reflect their delinquent streak. Usually having to use the entire arena to attempt to evade attacks and rarely still in motion, I'm drawn towards tennis shoes or shoes with a streamlined design.

Striking me as a sentimental and fashionable person when it comes to his earthly relationships, I think he takes care of his shoes very well. It could be cute if he and his step-dad began a shoe-collection hobby together? But that's fanfic territory and we're trying to keep to headcanons.

Here, a Nike Air Pegasus (1983).

Another word coming to mind is "boring". I think if Shiori had never grown ill, Kurama would not have gotten as involved with the demon realm or spirit office as much as he does in canon (where are the canon divergence fics about Shiori never getting sick. pls, I want canon divergence yyh fics and concepts).

I don't know how successful he is about trying to pass himself off as human as humanly possible, but I do think he tries. He won't sabotage his own grades of course, he will try to be the best son possible, but to be a good person in any society is to fulfill social requirements, and part of that is not sticking out like a sore thumb.

Hence, rather boring shoes.

Keywords: Low/average collar; streamlined and "boring" shape. Outsole should be like an arrow, at the most extreme of stylisations. Colours don't stand out.

Nike or adidas, I think. Sneakers?

Oooh these Adidas Brougham shoes are really neat! Finally I like a design that doesn't have navy-orange combo! The sole is very ominous... it gives a little bit Imperial Japan vibes to me bc of the red circle here, but it's not enough that I think it'd read as a whistle in terms of character design. It is a good reminder though to think about the sole of the shoe, though. The characters jump around a lot, having something more exciting than a solid colour for the sole would be good.

The Diadora Maverick 1987 would also be good! Oh wait there's Italy, fuck that... on the other hand,

"An archetype of preppy cool, the Maverick held as much cultural weight as any tennis release from Reebok, Nike or adidas. Due to fickle tastes and the advent of tech shoes as status symbols, this would be Diadora's finest moment." (complex.com, Russ Bengtson, Gary Warnett, Nick Schonberger)

Isn't that very Kurama? And nothing is keeping the boy from customising the shoes. A boring shape, with colours that don't stand out, but with minute details that he alone or an observant friend might appreciate.

References:

www. 80sfashion.org/popular-shoes-of-the-1980s/ www. liveabout.com/the-8-coolest-running-shoes-of-the-1980s-3019213 www. complex.com/sneakers/a/russ-bengtson/the-80-greatest-sneakers-of-the-80s // retrobok.wordpress.com/2011/07/27/hall-of-fame-80s/ // inthe1980s.com/80s-shoes/

[imagine-turtles]

Hi! I’m knew to this whole request thing and idk if you’re still taking them, but I’d thought I’d ask. How would the boy react to someone as smart (or smarter) than Donnie?

Thank you for waiting!!  Bayverse, unless you wanted different!!

The fact that someone can not only go toe-to-toe with his brother but actually outpace him in his own wheelhouse makes Leonardo uneasy.  He’s typically slow to trust outsiders, true, but this is an especially drawn-out case.  What if they have unsavory intentions?  What if they seem trustworthy, but he can only see what they want him to?  What if they’re playing some sort of long con with goals beyond anything they’ve even imagined?

(Even the most socially-challenged genius can see their only option is to win him over week by week, month by month.  Slow and steady.)

Leonardo hardly thinks of how Donnie might feel until someone else brings it up.  It simply never occurs to him that his brother could feel any less valued than he did before, as if they could trade him in for a shinier model like an appliance.  As if they would.  But he tries, awkwardly, to equalize his interactions.  Anything the newcomer gets--praise, acknowledgement, attention--his brother gets, too.  Donnie might find it ridiculously juvenile if he weren’t so earnest in his attempts.

Finally, if they manage to prove themselves, Leonardo warms up to them.  One genius is great, but surely two is better, and outsourcing some of Donnie’s squint work to a trusted friend frees up a good chunk of his brother’s time.  If he can talk them into sparing an hour or two for the greater good, of course.

~~~

Raphael honestly didn’t think anyone was smarter than his brother.  Sure, there’s Nobel Prize winners out there, but they wouldn’t stand a chance if Donnie had everything they have.  Education, scholarships, laboratories, equipment, the works.  None of those little dweebs would last a day in Donnie’s custom-sized Nikes.

But Raph knows he’d absolutely hate it if a bigger, stronger hardass started parading around the lair, so he does the only thing he thinks he can do: he gets a little competitive, despite both parties’ lack of interest.  Less than tactfully.  So yeah, maybe this kid genius is a better coder, or a cleaner welder, or a master engineer or whatever, but listen.  Donnie had to teach himself to do all that with a keyboard too small for his fingers, and tools duct-taped together, and make it all out of literal garbage, so he’s basically better no matter how you slice it.  The best, even.

Donnie may have to step in to tell him to quit being embarrassing before his ringtone is mysteriously and permanently set to that shitty little gummy bear song.

~~~

Donatello’s reaction hinges entirely on what kind of person the new genius is; if they’re a bit of a knob, he’s much more likely to avoid them entirely.  No point in wasting time and energy talking to a pretentious brick wall.  Not that he’d pass up the chance to mess with them, he just won’t go out of his way.

If they’re friendly, and open to teaching, he’d demand their attention.  God forbid anyone else want a second of their time before he’s done with them; anyone in the family could tell you that when Donnie actually wants something, he fights low and dirty.  He’d have them down there 24/7 if Splinter would allow it, set them up in his room and just sleep in one of the cots tucked around the lair.  It’d be way more efficient than going back and forth to the surface all the time.

(At one point he realizes how absolutely bonkers that sounds, and thanks every star in the sky that he never actually voiced that one out loud.)

Donnie’s not afraid of being replaced--he knows his brothers, knows how much family means to them--but he does feel obligated to take advantage of all the new information available to him.  In theory, if they both share their respective knowledge, they’ll both end up equally skilled and better off than they were before.  Ultimately, he’d never say no to another tech-head around, regardless of their attitude.  Age of the geek, as they say.

~~~

Michelangelo is, for the most part, happy that Donnie has someone to talk shop with.  He listens when he can, but they both know there’s only so much he can absorb unless the planets align and he’s hyper-fixated on the exact same thing as his brother.  Once in a blue moon.  Donnie just accepts Mikey’s invitation to listen as exactly that--he probably won’t be able to pinpoint any problems, but he’s a perfect sounding board.  But if Donnie has a friend who knows what they’re talking about, that’s even better, right?

Like Raphael, he wants his brother to know he’s irreplaceable, but he goes about it by talking Donnie up instead of talking the newcomer down.  He may not remember how to correctly solder the components to a PCB, but he knows most of what his brother can do with scrap and trash is impressive.  Besides, there’s plenty to love about the Don-tron without boiling him down to his technical abilities.  How messed up would that be, to love your own brother for his usefulness and nothing else?

The exception is the genius in question being an ass, in which case he joins forces with Raph to rag on them at every opportunity.  It’s not mean, really!  He’s just performing an act of public service by keeping them humble.  They’ll thank him later, when they’ve been kicked down enough pegs to realize what a jerk they were being.

[troop-scoop]

Youth I

Chapter One -  Pilot

Word count: 2k

Series Summary: On a family trip to your dad’s home town of Hawkins, Indiana, you make a series of decisions that result in you ending up in the year 1983 with more questions than there are answers presently available. 

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female Reader ( slow burn ) 

Chapter Summary: You go through what’s become your new ‘normal’ at Hawkins High School

⟛⟛

Nothing about your current situation was settling right in your stomach. There were no answers as to how you got here, and you didn’t have any questions that could easily be answered. A series of unfortunate events resulted in the attitude you carried. You used to be sweet, all smiles and laughter unless someone did something to make you upset.

What happened to that girl? The girl who grew up never experiencing fear to the point where it worried her parents and made teachers concerned because she’d climb so high on the playground that if you fell, you’d surely break something.

You’d climbed so high on something, and you fell into this situation, and something did break. Your bravery, your fearlessness, nothing physical, but those two things were shattered, and your ego bruised.

Nothing was like what you were used to. To you, everything in this school hallway was dated. The fashion, the haircuts, the textbooks, and the tech.

The stereotypes.

“L/n!”

You shook your head, already knowing whose voice that was. A teenage boy who fit the typical ‘jock’ stereotype that everyone knew. The kid who hated his small town, he got around, played a sport his father probably hated, who would likely never get out of said small town he hated. Yeah, you knew the pattern. Everyone, where you were from, did.

“No.”

You continued on your trek to the locker, but you could hear the slight squeaking of the soles of the older boy’s Nikes on the linoleum floor trying to catch up. Where you were from, people would be staring at this type of occurrence, but because none of the students surrounding you even batted an eye at the basketball player or you for that matter, told you that it wasn’t abnormal for him to be audacious.

“Hey now, I just wanna talk.” He defended, finally catching up to you, walking alongside, but a little bit behind so he didn’t get in anyone’s way.

“Harrington, the last time you wanted to ‘talk’ was when you needed my math homework.” A chuckle escaped you as you said it, finally stopping at your locker.

“In my defense, you don’t look like a sophomore.” He tried, standing next to you as you were spinning the knob in the locker to get it open.

“Whatever, what do you want?”

“Wow, you’re grumpy. Anyways, Tommy H, Carol, and I wanna hang out but my parents don’t leave for another week, and we can’t be at Carol’s place because her mom hates Tommy, and well, you know how Tommy’s dad is.”

You hummed in amusement. “Yeah, he’s a dick, how does that involve me?” You had your binder and pencil case in one arm, staring at him with your hand inside of your locker, holding onto the cup of coffee.

“Can we hang out at your place?”

Rolling your eyes you kneeled down, placing your things down on the ground before standing upright, grabbing the collar of his jacket and pulling it towards your locker, placing it inside before closing the door on it. “Not happening.” You responded, a bright smile on your face as you grabbed your things, taking a step to walk away.

“Y/n! This isn’t funny!”

“I’m gonna correct you on that, it’s not funny to you.” The situation was probably the funniest thing you’d encountered in weeks, and considering your day to day life before used to be full of laughter and playfully teasing, that then went to quiet days spent alone and pondering, this was a nice change.

“Unlock it or I’ll tell Mrs. Jensen!”

Steve’s threat caused you to laugh, holding your things closer so you didn’t drop any of them. “A tattletale? You always did strike me as the type to tease kids in elementary school, but you never did seem like a snitch, you do know the saying right? About snitches?”

“Yeah, from you!” he responded, and although he had a serious face, you knew he was fighting back a smile as well by his voice and how his brows weren’t furrowed in frustration or anger.

“Snitches are bitches, who get stitches and end up in ditches.” it wasn’t intentional for both of you to say it at the same time, but you had, but in two very different tones of voice. Your’s was more ‘matter of fact’ and he was amused.

You stared at him for a second, your smile remaining before you stepped forward,  turning the dial of your lock to open it, and once you lifted the lever for the door, Steve got himself out, standing up straight and staring down at you, his hands finding the pockets of his jacket as you closed the locker door again. “That wasn’t fair, you look innocent,” he mumbled to himself.

“I’ll see you later?” Steve asked after a second.

“We have study hall together, so. . . maybe,” you told him, stepping away from the locker and heading down the hallway to your English class.

Bulletin boards on the walls, spaced out between each other, with thumbtacks keeping flyers and announcements up for students to see, lockers for students to keep their things throughout the day. It was all odd.

At your previous schools, lockers weren’t available. That was until your freshman year where you had to pay five dollars a year if you wanted one. And instead of bulletin boards, flyers and announcements would just be taped to the walls, or given during morning announcements, or emailed to students and parents. You were pretty sure your previous high school got rid of lockers in the late ’90s when drugs became prominent in your area and then got rid of bulletin boards when one student sent the other to the hospital with a thumbtack to the wrist, but those types of stories always had a few details in them that never made sense, allowing you to cast doubt on them. But maybe the story had just been told so many times that detail got twisted, the truth of what happened got misconstrued. Like a game of telephone.

Reaching the English classroom, you found your seat, with your anxiousness rising as you sat down, placing your coffee at the upper corner of your small desk, keeping your school supplies close to your chest.

You’d been a happy kid growing up. You didn’t have very many friends, but you had your parents, your little brother, and a condo that you’d been brought home to as a newborn that you knew was a safe place. Unlike the few friends you did have, you never really experienced anxiety or symptoms of depression, but you knew the signs, your closest friend, Mandy, dealt with it, and she confided in you often about how it felt and what it was like, and you often did your own research on it to know what you could to help her.

There were weekends where you spent a good few hours learning different breathing techniques to help her whenever she would have a panic attack, but now that you were dealing with moments where your heart sped up, your hands shook and you felt like something was terribly wrong, it was like all of those hours had been a waste because you couldn’t use them without getting more anxious.

“You okay?”

Looking to your left, you were met with a curious glance from your partner on the English project. Giving an unconvincing nod, you looked down at the top of your desk, eyes tracing over the wood pattern, lines connecting that looked like they shouldn’t, forming shapes and allowing you to distract yourself as Jonathan set his things down as well, taking his seat next to you.

Mrs. Jensen went over the usual, giving instructions for the project that everyone already knew, before leaving everyone to work, with her sitting behind her desk, a book in hand and a container of what you assumed were grapes by the purplish color. Though they could have been large blueberries.

“What’s so important about a quote?” Jonathan mumbled to himself, though it caught your attention from your own worksheet, looking over to him.

“In what context?” you asked, taking a sip from your drink as he began speaking.

“We’re talking about Romeo and Juliet, everyone knows what it’s about, you don’t really need a quote to explain things.”

You nodded when he looked over to you. “A lot of people only really know that it was written by Shakespeare and it’s about two star crossed lovers who kill themselves in the end. Mrs. Jensen probably knew that’s all anyone really remembers, she wants to make sure people know what’s actually happening.

“It’s pretty obvious, ‘Romeo, oh Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?’ she’s asking where he is.” He shrugged a bit, placing the book down on the desk, pages open and light reflecting off of the glossy pages.

“No, she’s not,” you told him, getting an odd and questioning look from him. “Well, this was written in the 1500s, English is practically a new language at that point, getting its own footing for once, paintings of historical figures wouldn’t have the English spelling of their names, and English is a language that’s taken a bunch of different parts from other languages, mostly german. If you ever see a period piece that’s set around this period of time, if a child says ‘lady mother’ when they’re addressing their mom, they’re not acknowledging that their mother is a female. They’re acknowledging her title. So her husband is likely a lord of a piece of land, which makes her the lady of that land as well. It was an archaic way of showing respect to their mother by also saying she had a title.”

“How does that relate to the quote?”

“Well, early modern English had many different phrases, and things have changed, we’ve come up with ways to say things that are far more simple. While we think she’s asking where Romeo is, she’s actually asking why he’s Romeo. Why out of all the people she could have fallen for, it had to be him. The enemy. You could use that in the analysis, a bit of how it shows we don’t choose who we love, even if we know we shouldn’t love them.”

Jonathan blinked before looking at his worksheet, picking up his pencil and writing something down, paraphrasing what you had just said and only moments later the bell rang, signaling the end of the class period.

You grabbed your things, leaving as quickly as you could without looking like an idiot, trying to get away from what caused you to be so nervous and make you feel like you could be sick at any moment.

Growing up, you weren’t afraid of many things if any. But maybe you just needed something like this to make you afraid of everything and anything around you. To make you jump at the sound of a drop of water from outside your motel window landing on the metal railing of the stairs and walkway.

But you were terrified, and you wanted to wake up in your own bed, at home, with your dad gently shaking your shoulder to get you up and out of bed. You were terrified you’d never see your parents again, that you’d been too mean to your little brother growing up, and that the last memory he’d have of you was you being mean.

You hadn’t even been afraid to sleep on your own as a kid, and all the things that you weren’t afraid of as a child that you should have been, always seemed to worry your dad. But what would he say and think now? Would he be worried now that you lived in a constant state of fear? Just looking at clothing racks scared you.

Since July you’d been trying to act normal, trying to pretend everything was okay, trying to be your normal self, but your normal self would be odd to everyone else, you knew random things no one else did, you liked things no one even knew about yet, and if you tried to talk about those things, you knew it wouldn’t be a good outcome, not a sour one, but not happy.

⟛⟛

Add yourself to the taglist!

tagging who i know would want to be - 

@stonersteve​ @ilovebucketbarnes​

[dippedanddripped]

In the first few moments of a YouTube video titled “Admitting I Own Fakes In-Front of My Fashion Class…”, Quentin Caruso, better known as Tripping, does just that. “I’m a sophomore in college and I’m taking a class about fashion, and in that class (we) were talking about fakes and replicas,” he explains, adding that he can “throw up some pictures so you guys know I’m not bullshitting”. Asked by his teacher if he knowingly owns any counterfeit pieces, the 19-year-old confirms the sneakers he’s wearing at that very moment – the highly coveted Travis Scott Jordan 1 Lows – are in fact fake. “And how do you feel about that,” she prompts. “I’m fine with it,” he wryly confirms.

Caruso is part of a growing community of fashion-savvy shoppers searching for ways to look runway ready on a high street budget – and, unlike many die-hard hypebeasts, they’re willing to own up to the fact their luxury garms aren’t exactly legitimate. In fact, many take pride in their ability to score a bargain, taking to subreddit FashionReps to discuss new releases, fawn over faux Yeezys, and ask each other for advice on where to pick up the best knock-off Off-White and Supreme styles.

The forum is a democratised, judgement-free zone in which people share a love of high quality replicas or ‘reps’, where members are friendly and even supportive. They help one another to find the best sellers and sites to buy from, while discussing discrepancies between retail items and their counterfeit counterparts – from stitching and logos, to details and finishes. Most users admit they can’t afford head-to-toe designer looks, and at times they even share budgeting tips. "I got into reps cause I didn’t have much money and wanted a few nice pieces," redditor godsip2 shared in August. "Now I have no money at all 'cause I'm addicted to buying reps and can't stop myself."  

While a lack of funds and a taste for luxury streetwear is a driving factor for many, for others it isn’t about the money at all. “Not to brag, but if I want a Dior coat, I can get it retail,” Dennis, 19, tells us. “For the same (amount of) money I can get four reps.” Dennis admitted his breaking point came after a shocking moment browsing resale markets where he saw his ‘grail shoes’ – a pair of Off-White Air Jordan 1s – show up for €3000. “I thought ‘Fuck this, I’m never gonna pay that for shoes that originally retailed for €150.”

It’s been almost three years since he came across the FashionReps subreddit, which he was initially skeptical of. However, since joining he hasn’t just sworn off resale products and full-price retail items, but also introduced his friends to reps. “A €500 sweater wasn’t in their price range,” says Dennis. “When I showed them my reps (compared to) my retail Yeezys, they were instantly sold.”

Historically, counterfeit designer items conjure thoughts of poorly imitated handbags on AliExpress, labels that read, ‘Fashing BALISG’ instead of Balenciaga, and stalls in alleyways, but FashionReps members know where the quality replicas are sold and claim that many knock-offs actually tend to be better made.  “The quality is the same, even better,” Netherlands-based 23-year-old Camiel admits. “I’ve heard of some Yeezys being better and a lot of high-end Louis Vuitton reps being way better than retail.” He believes that “retail Louis Vuitton quality is not so great…”

FashionReps members buy in bulk, spending hundreds of dollars on ‘hauls’ that they break up into smaller packages in hopes of evading customs checks. The risk is part of the thrill, and while some are unlucky and have their packages seized, others rejoice when packages filled with thousands of dollars of ‘drip’ arrive in the mail.

Camiel cites his favourite find to be a Palace red slub-neck, “which you can't tell apart from a real one – which I have one of,” he adds. “The quality is amazing and it's super comfortable to wear, it's my favourite (item) I have gotten so far.” But Camiel hasn’t always gotten away with his thrifty finds.

“In the beginning, I wouldn't wear an item if it had the tiniest flaw. Later on, I noticed that people know (very) little about brands and which items even exist,” he explains. While most people who recognise a rep are likely to ask for the seller or pass on a compliment, Camiel concedes he’s been called out before. “Some high schoolers were at the gym and I was wearing my Nike tech fleece joggers, which have some noticeable flaws, like the black stripe being too short and the cords being too short as well. They called me out on the logo, which I know is perfect. Bunch of clowns.”

For all the people excited about reps, their quality, and believability, there are just as many people out there looking to spot a fake. YeezyBusta, who recently gained prominence for spotting fakes on civilians and celebrities has over 760,000 followers on Instagram. He’s busted the likes of Lil Tjay, Blac Chyna, and Soulja Boy for donning fake Supreme and Yeezys, although his faux-detector has been known to malfunction.

"I got into reps cause I didn’t have much money and wanted a few nice pieces. Now I have no money at all 'cause I'm addicted to buying reps and can't stop myself" – godsip2, FashionReps member

In an episode of Complex’s Full Size Run, hosts tasked the Instagram detective with discerning the difference between fake pairs of shoes from the real thing. After being handed a pair of bone-white Yeezy 500s, YeezyBusta exclaims, “Oh these are real!” Closely inspecting the shoe, he notices “The suede is right…even down to the stitching, the label inside the shoe looks right to me and the insole is right too.” The host, who finds it hard to hide his amusement, blurts out “They’re fake.” Behind his signature black surgical mask, used to hide his identity, YeezyBusta turns bright red.

“I can’t take him seriously,” Tripping admits. In a reaction video to a VICE documentary on YeezyBusta, the fashion student protests his motivation for hunting down counterfeit items so publicly. “It isn’t funny. Does anyone find that funny? To ridicule people online? That isn’t something you should be gloating about.”

Some counterfeit items are so believable that they’ve also slipped past trusted authenticators. The RealReal, one of the world's leading luxury consignment stores, claims that "every item we sell is 100% authenticated by an expert.” However, just last year, Forbes contributor, Richard Kentenbaum claimed the retail giant had sold him a fake Toile de Jouy Dior Book Tote bag for $3,600. What followed was a swift investigation by CNBC, who, after speaking with a dozen former employees and unsatisfied customers, and obtaining internal company documents, revealed that “many of the items on the site were being authenticated by copywriters with limited training.” and those who are doing this work are finding it increasingly difficult to spot counterfeits. Out of 1,400 reviews online for The RealReal, the top complaints are fake items.

It may come as a surprise to learn that this is something FashionReps also stands firmly against. In December, the group came together after Depopuser James’s Closet was spotted selling counterfeit items. Within a day, the subreddit had made efforts to liaise with Depop directly and reported the fake pieces resulting in all the listings being taken down. And this isn’t the only time the forum has rallied against people selling fake items moonlighting as cheap authentic ‘steals’. “People who willingly sell replicas as authentic items are the worst,” Tripping insists. “Knowing that a replica looks so close to retail and not selling it for a lot of profit is challenging for some people.”

Conversely, enjoying replicas as they are comes with its own baggage. Reports indicate that counterfeit fashion is a trillion-dollar industry. "One of the worst stories I read was where they had raided an illegal factory and the children were actually handcuffed to the sewing machines," Ariele Elia, an assistant curator at the Museum at FIT explained in a Complex documentary about the flourishing bootleg industry.

Fashion Revolution, a not-for-profit global movement campaigning for the systemic reform of the fashion industry, notes that there’s an “urgent lack of transparency.” Policy Director at Fashion Revolution, Sarah Ditty, told us that counterfeiting doesn’t usually come hand in hand with good rights and wages for workers. “Factories making counterfeit items are doing so illegally so it’s in their interest to operate completely under the radar and in doing so means we have no idea who the workers are making these products, what they are being paid, what conditions they’re working in, and what sort of poor environmental practices are most likely happening in these factories.”

To them, the moral standpoint is clear: “We would definitely encourage people not to buy fake luxury goods or any other counterfeit items because you’re almost guaranteed to be contributing to human exploitation and environmental degradation.” This is an issue that goes beyond fakes: when you look beyond the manufacturing level at the places where fabrics are made, yarns are spun and fibres are grown, even legitimate brands are guilty of obscuring working conditions.

But Tripping insists it's a media smoke-screen. “adidas and Nike were called out for their treatment of workers in the 90s and early 2000s, so now every factory in Asia is associated with bad conditions and child labour.” Tripping also claims that sellers are in fact increasingly transparent about working conditions, their treatment of employees and factories. “They show what their shop looks like, I’ve even asked sellers to show their shops,” he remarked in one of his videos. “And they’ve posted videos on the (subreddit).” One video posted shows a “top quality Yeezy” factory filled with workers. “Actually looks very clean and cool compared to all of the bad warehouse jobs I used to do here in the US,” Redditor highnnmighty comments.

“That’s like asking if I’ll ever go back to my ex, it was a fun time but in the end, you just feel shitted on” – Dennis, on whether or not he will stop buying fakes

Central to what makes FashionReps a great community isn’t the collective middle-finger to resale culture and hypebeasts or the internet-savvy tips, but the irreverent charm and supportive nature of young people who ultimately just want to look cool, and don’t want money to be the reason that they miss out. It’s rare, if not impossible, to find fashion spaces that aren’t hierarchical, based on wealth, social standing, and nepotism, but FashionReps manages to do all of that, and more. Camiel tells me that recently, the subreddit even banded together to target sellers who began taking higher cuts from sales. “I love how we sometimes work together to get something we want.”

Confronted with the fact that buying reps are taking sales away from workers, brands, and designers, Tripping is unfazed. “Once a limited shoe is released, and sold out in seconds, the company has made its profit. The average cost of manufacturing an Air Jordan 1 is $15-$16. The mark up of that shoe is more than 100 per cent. Nike has no problem with this. If you are wearing a replica of that overpriced shoe (on the resell market), you are basically advertising the brand. The culture side of sneakers is bland and fraudulent, replicas are there to stir things up.”

When asked if he’d ever give up replicas and return to buying retail, Dennis scoffed before saying: “That’s like asking if I’ll ever go back to my ex, it was a fun time but in the end, you just feel shitted on.”

[guccixcoochie]

I was tagged by @heart-attack-harry, thank you so much Court 😘.

part one~

name: Sydney

gender: Female (she/her)

phone wallpaper: My home screen is an embarrassing photo of my sister & I drunk at a concert. My lockscreen is TWPK artwork

hogwarts house: Slytherin according to pottermore

ever had a crush on a teacher?: No 

coolest halloween costume: I once dressed up as a houseplant.

favorite 90’s show- Mr.Bean. corny I know

last kiss: January 2020 😭😭

ever been stood up?: ugh yes. This pretty girl that I met at the gym started flirting with me randomly one day. She asked me if I liked archery (I didn’t, only said yes bcz she said it was a date) and invited me to this workshop thing she had signed up for. I’d waited for 2 hours and she didn’t show up, she didn’t even answer my calls. I was actually worried that something might have happened because she had told me that she was already on her way when I texted her earlier that evening. I even went to gym early the next morning to wait for her to see if everything was ok like a moron lmao. She acted like nothing happened. What a dick it’s been a few years but I’m still pissed lol.

favorite pair of shoes: a pair of Nike trainers that I wear almost everyday

favorite book: A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini

favorite fruit: Green Apple and Banana

favorite tv shows: Doctor Who, Peaky Blinders, Fleabag. There’re a lot more but I can’t remember all of them rn. I’m currently binging The Boys on Amazon Prime and I like it so far.

last movie i saw in theaters: Birds of Prey I think

part two~

Named after someone? No 

Last time you cried? Been a few months. My dad was ill.

Do you have any kids? No

Do you use sarcasm a lot? not at all

What’s the first thing you notice about people? Hair and for some weird reason their chin.

Scary movie or happy ending? scary movie with a happy ending lol

Any special talents? I play violin but I’m not very good at it

What country were you born in? Canada, which seems to surprise a lot of people, probably the accent. I was brought up mostly in the UK and India, never actually lived in Canada for more than a few months at a time. 

What are your hobbies? coding, candle making, listening to tech podcasts. I recently started enjoying journaling.

Do you have any pets? no but I really want to adopt a kitten.

What sports do you play/have you played? there’s not a force in this universe that can make me want to pick up a sport.

How tall are you? 5’2”

Favorite subject in school? Biology.

Dream job? I love love travelling so a travel blogger or a travel photographer. I love being a boring techie but it’d be cool to to be able to turn something I am absolutely passionate about into an actual career.

Sorry that was boring. Gonna tag a few folks:

@milfzaynmalik @evermorelore @onedirrection @saltybreaddream and anybody who wants to do this!

[prettyboy-parker]

starker- 11:11

this is the backstory to my high-school au 

no major warnings beside background sambucky

♡♡♡

“What’s going on with you and Sam?”

Bucky makes a show out of avoiding Tony’s eyes, staring at his beat up Converse

“We’re taking a break,” He mutters, swallowing thickly.

“Shit, why?” Tony asks, the filter on his mouth non-existent. Bucky shoots a glare at the other boy.

“Tony,” He warns, digging through his Under Armour backpack for something. Tony has never been good with thinking before he speaks.

“Where the fuck is Coach Wilson?” Bucky grunts as he takes a sip from his Gatorade water bottle.

“Probably jacking off. I swear, he’s never around.” Tony jokes, rolling out his wrists. Steve gags from where he’s stretching on the ground. A few other teammates are doing a warmup laps at the other end of the field, while the rest stand around and chat. Bucky watches Sam as he does his stretches a decent distance away. He looks sad and Tony can bet he’ll be fucking up good amount today.

“On your left, Tony.” Steve mumbles, and as if on cue, all the players look to the left.

The cheerleaders.

The only good thing about practice is that the cheerleading squad practices on the turf with them. All the guys love it and admit it loud and clear.

“Hi, boys.”

Peter Parker.

Peter is one of the most loved boys in their school. Being the only guy on the varsity cheerleading squad, he has an entire group of girls devoted to his well being. He’s on the Decathlon team, Vice President of his class council, and on track to becoming Valedictorian.

Tony hates him.

(Not really. He’s smitten with the boy, but he’ll never admit it.)

“Hey, darlin’.” Bucky purrs, causing a beautiful pink blush to creep onto the younger’s cheeks. He looks delicious, in short blue track shorts and an oversized Midtown Tech sweatshirt. His long legs are on display, a perfect balance of muscle and skin.

“Bucky! How are you?” Peter asks, adjusting the strap of his hot pink Nike duffel bag that’s on his shoulder.

“Better now that you’re here,” The older boy flirts, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Peter giggles for God’s sake and bites his strawberry pink lip.

Why does Bucky have to be so good at sweet talking?

“Peter! Come on!” One of the girls on the squad shouts, beckoning the boy. Tony recognizes her as Pepper Potts, a senior with red hair as fiery as her attitude. He’s positive that her and Peter are dating, because they’re always touching in some way.

“Bye! See you later!” The brunette squeaks, waving as he runs off to his team. Tony can’t help but stare at his ass as he jogs.

“Cute, huh? Seems like your type.” Bucky smirks, nudging Tony’s shoulder.

“No. Not at all.”

♡♡♡

“Hey Tony? Can I borrow a pen?”

Tony looks up from his worksheet, face to face with a certain cheerleader.

Peter leans over his desk, chewing on the end of his pen, cherry lips coated in gloss. His honey eyes are wide in question, long lashes coated in mascara.

“Mine ran out of ink.” He says coolly, head tilting just so. Tony realizes his mouth has been open slightly and he quickly closes it.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” He stammers, rummaging through his navy pencil case. Of course he can’t find one pen, so he dumps some of the contents on his desk. Peter bites his lip to hold back a giggle.

“Here, Peter.” Tony says triumphantly, handing him a blue Bic pen. Peter smiles tightly and takes it.

“Thanks, Tony.”

He has trouble focusing on Business Management after that.

♡♡♡

“Tony? Earth to Tony.”

Tony flinches as Sam snaps his fingers in his face.

“What?” He asks, tearing his eyes away from the cheerleaders who sit a few tables away.

“Jeez, Tony. I asked if you were going to Thor’s party on Saturday. What has gotten into you?” Sam scolds, looking at him weird. Tony can’t help but glance back at the table, catching a glimpse of Peter laughing at something.

“Oh,” Sam gasps, “You’ve got your eyes on someone, Stark?”

Steve nudges him gently.

“Yeah, something like that.” Tony snaps, glaring at Steve. Sam lets out a hoot.

“No way. Is it Natasha? I’m willing to bet it’s Natasha.” He theorizes, taking a bite of his ham sandwich. Tony makes a face.

“No. Leave me alone.”

Sam raises his hands in mock defense.

“Calm down, Tones. You can tell us.” Bucky pipes up from the other side of Tony. He’s still won’t talk to Sam, and there’s a heavy tension between the two.

“Nope.” Tony teases, popping the p. Sam rolls his eyes and Steve groans. As the group drawls on about Thor’s party, Tony’s eyes wander to Peter. He laughing and smiling with his girl friends, clearly excited about something. Tony’s heart stops when the younger boy catches his gaze. Instead of looking away, he bites his lip and waves.

Tony waves back.

♡♡♡

He’d rather be anywhere but here.

Herebeing on Thor’s beat up couch, ears bleeding from the shitty rap music that’s blasting from the stereo.

“This sucks.”

Tony turns to look at Thor’s brother, Loki. He’s curled up in the corner of the couch, a scowl on his pale face.

All he does is complain.

“Yeah,” Tony replies, taking a sip of his shitty beer out of his Solo cup. He gags, because he’s got drinks that are 100 times better at home. He hasn’t even had enough to give him a buzz.

“Parties suck. My brother sucks.”

Tony stifles back a laugh, because he knows how much Thor adores his younger brother.

“Yeah. He sucks.” He jokes, checking the time on his phone.

11:01

Tony decides he needs a breather. He gets off the red couch, maneuvering his way through the crowd of people. He exhales a sigh of relief when he steps out the sliding glass door, the smell of cheap booze and Axe washed away by the fresh air. He chucks the rest of his beer over the railing of the porch, balancing the cup on top of it. The fresh air is nice, a slight breeze moving his hair.

“Hey.”

Tony jumps a little as Peter Parker leans on the ledge next to him.

“Hey yourself,” He responds, watching Peter chuck his drink into the grass.

“Don’t drink?” Tony asks, already knowing the answer.

“No way,” Peter cringes, making a face. “Alcohol is fucking disgusting. And dangerous.”

Tony is taken aback by the foul language coming from the tiny thing.

“My friend made it. She probably put about 5 different drinks in one cup. I threw up a little when I smelt it.” The brunette complains, dead serious. Tony can’t help but laugh at the younger boy’s disgusted face.

“Hey,” Peter scolds with a pout. Tony just shakes his head as he checks the time.

11:11  

“11:11. Should we make a wish?” He jokes, not that serious. Peter giggles softly, looking up at the vast expanse of stars.

“Sure. You start.” The boy offers, looking up at Tony. The older boy practically melts as he studies Peter’s gaze, full of innocence and expectancy. Tony doesn’t know why he says what he does. It may be the booze, or the nerves.

“I wish you weren’t dating Pepper.”

There’s silence.

Tony’s heart pounds in his chest, the sound drowning out the chirps of cicadas around him.

Then, the unexpected happens.

Peter laughs.

He doesn’t just giggle, no. He’s full on hysterically laughing, clutching at his stomach. This causes Tony to laugh at how ridiculous the boy is acting.

“Oh my god, Tony,” Peter wheezes through his tears, lips stretched wide. “I’m gay!”

Tony rubs his face with his hands.

“Jesus, Peter, I’m sorry, I’m such a fucking idiot.” He laughs, flushing in embarrassment.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Peter reassures, placing a tiny hand on Tony’s exposed bicep. “She’s single. All yours.”

Tony almost throws up.

“Peter,” He says softly, “I don’t like Pepper.”

Peter inhales sharply.

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

He blinks. Once. Twice.

“Me?” He asks softly, “Why me? You’ve never even noticed me.”

Oh my god.

“Peter, what the hell? I’ve been drooling over you since middle school.” Tony confesses, laughing slightly. Peter rubs his temples.

“No way. The only reason I joined the cheer squad was to get you to notice me. That’s it. I am so-“

“Peter, shut up and kiss me.”

[404fmdhaon]

winter fashion — aesthetic & headcanon

summary: gyu’s never been one to buy into the current trends of balenciaga and gucci — that’s never been his niche to wear finely fitted things that taper to his body. instead, he likes curtains and drapes of clothes — half comfort, half just looking good (in his opinion). the set highlights his inspirations / favorite fits for the sake that people have pegged him as ‘fashion terrorist.’ headcanon summary: elaboration of aesthetic in further detail. warnings: none wc: 624

he’s a fashion terrorist to most people — they consider the way he dresses to be too far off from what most idols wear. yet, he’s never cared about those sort of things because comfort and looking chic is his forte.

as much as he talks about being some gritty underground rappers — let’s not forget, he’s a rich boy born and bread. his family money earlier on had him invested in the looks of prada, burberry, and gucci. yet, when he started cutting his family off and actually became a part of knight, that’s where the shift into his own personal style started.

he has a stylist, of course. but the stylist dresses him for events and other business related matters. however, for the most part when he’s at the airport (he’ll get that checked by the stylist beforehand) or he’s walking around seoul doing his own personal business, he dresses himself. fans have this polar take on whether he’s a fashion icon or whether he really... just doesn’t know how to dress himself.

he does have a friend that he knew in the underground days he uses often, which coordinates his personal style with something bc would approve of. for that, his friend gets loyalties and he gets to wear something more ‘him’. win win for everyone.

some of his favorite brands include, a coldwall, stone island, needles, mastermind, acmm, rick owens and acg — these are all the ‘street wear’ that starts propping up in a luxury level. earlier on in his career, he partook in the whole supreme hype, but that died down when he really started making his interest in fashion known. currently, he’s into the ‘tech wear’ look where it looks more like a utility wear than an actual fashion aesthetic

in the winter time, he prefers layering over just wearing a padding jacket? often times, it makes him look like the michelin man the way he’s draped in layers of clothing — he doesn’t care. he thinks the layers and drapes look good on his frame, and even if it feels like a million kilograms of clothes, he still wears it.

his favorite accessory is a beanie and a bag — usually, a cross body bag. but lately, he’s been into buying female bags and wearing it as a cross body (mainly, this is in part that it’s the current hype with rappers to wear chanel bags across their body).

he’s usually pretty dulled down in terms of color palettes — sticking to the neutrals of an army canvas. yet, often he’ll experiment with pops of colors through the form of his shoes. this would mean that he’s into stark color blocking when he does decide to wear colors. fans have questioned if he’s colorblind for his choices.

often, he’ll wear pops of patterns but when he does — it’s a bit outrageous in bright greens and reds, and overall a bit tacky? yet somehow he manages to get away because people just assume “oh, that’s just how haon of knight dresses. you’ll get used to it.’

his favorite shoes consist of nike dunks — he’ll wear those a lot. he has a lot of rare jordans, and even managed to cop travis scott’s collab with nike (thanks to idol connections). one thing you won’t catch him wearing is the peaceminusone paranoise 1, mainly because it’s too inundated inside seoul and people just buy it resale for the sake of having gd shoes. he doesn’t buy into that hype.

overall gyu’s aesthetic is just — layers and questionable choices. most of the time, his fashion doesnt even change with the seasons since his version of summer clothing is just taking off 2 layers to cool himself down.

[kicksaddictny]

Drake and Nike launch a new sub-label, NOCTA

According to NIKE

Following his “Laugh Now Cry Later” video, shot on location at Nike WHQ, and the release of the "Certified Lover Boy" album merchandise capsule, Drake and Nike launch a new sub-label, NOCTA (a nod to the artist’s nocturnal creative process). Ahead of the first NOCTA release, Drake shares his thoughts on the spirit of the project.

This moment is full circle for me.  

I mean, growing up Nike was everything. It felt like every shoe I wanted, every athlete I liked, everything I owned was Nike. It didn’t mean anything unless it had a Swoosh.

I remember watching all these athletes repping Nike — each doing the unthinkable — and how inspiring it was. I always felt like there was an opportunity for Nike to embrace an entertainer the same way they had athletes. I thought about how crazy it would have been and what it would have meant for an artist to have a flagship Nike deal.

NOCTA is a realization of all these thoughts and everything I had hoped for — from the culture it’s rooted in to the product and, most important, to the partnership and scale that allows me to share it with the world.

NOCTA is about creating something for people on the move. People who want functional, comfortable fits that are adaptable from one environment to the next.

But as much as it’s about what we make, it’s also about a mindset: an unforgiving drive, a relentlessness. Characterized by the type who are on the road all day, all night — the grinders, the hard workers — trying to accomplish their goals and taking no short cuts.  

That mindset also includes loyalty and team. Whether you are in Toronto, London or Paris, there's this uniform look — Nike Tech Fleece, the gloves, the hat — and it has a real team feel. I wanted to take a piece of that culture that I grew up with, that school of thought, and bring the best to it. With NOCTA, we were trying to make the hardest jacket, the hardest tracksuit, the hardest gloves. Just the best of that world.

This opportunity is something that I’ve been waiting on for a really long time. To be associated with the highest level possible — that was always my goal. We put in a lot of hard work, a lot of man and woman hours, during the last two years. To see it all coming to fruition starts an exciting new chapter in my life.

The Nike NOCTA collection launches globally beginning December 18. Visit nocta.com  or @officialnocta for more

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Pluralistic: 02 Mar 2020 (Disasters vs dystopias, meet me in Kelowna, Cool Mules, astrosovkitsch, drug policy)

Today's links

My new podcast, "Disasters Don't Have to End in Dystopia": Tired: Look for the helpers. Wired: Be the helper.

The next frontier for school censorware is spying on kids all the time: It's how we'll stop ISIS, apparently.

I'm coming to Kelowna on March 5: It's my first-ever trip to the BC interior and more than half the (free) tickets are gone. RSVP now!

Cool Mules, an investigative series on a Vice editor's cocaine-smuggling ring: From the people who brought you the stunning "Thunder Bay."

Soviet Space Graphics: Cosmic Visions from the USSR.

Apple, Nike and Dell's supply chain includes enslaved Uyghurs: Xinjiang Phase II.

Drugs Without the Hot Air: The best book I've ever read on drugs and drug policy, in an expanded new edition.

This day in history: 2005, 2010, 2015, 2019

Colophon: Recent publications, current writing projects, upcoming appearances, current reading

My new podcast, "Disasters Don't Have to End in Dystopia" (permalink)

I just posted a new podcast! "Disasters Don't Have to End in Dystopia" is an essay I wrote for Wired about the ways that the stories we tell ourselves make the difference between rising to meet a crisis and devolving into catastrophe.

The podcast is here:

https://craphound.com/podcast/2020/03/01/disasters-dont-have-to-end-in-dystopias/

The Wired essay is here:

https://www.wired.com/2017/04/cory-doctorow-walkaway/

Though I wrote it in 2017, it really applies today. Our beliefs about whether we can trust our neighbors to have our back in times of crisis informs whether we behave in a way that shows THEY can trust US in times of crisis.

And since every crisis is (eventually) overcome by people pitching in to get things fixed, the belief that our fellow humans are untrustworthy means that crises are more likely to turn into disasters – and the stories we write can instil or dispel that belief.

I know that there's some controversy about Mr Rogers' famous "Look for the helpers" speech – that it's advice for children, not adults.

https://www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive/2018/10/look-for-the-helpers-mr-rogers-is-bad-for-adults/574210/

But the adult version is "BE the helper." That is, prepared to run towards the emergency, not to cower in a luxury bunker while better people than you get the machine started again.

The next frontier for school censorware is spying on kids all the time (permalink)

We spend a lot of time bemoaning the lack of privacy-consciousness among kids, and then we spy on them at school with censorware and punish them for taking any action that might protect their privacy from us.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RAGjNe1YhMA

Meanwhile, censorware companies – whose primary customers have always been oppressive regimes seeking to control political oppositions – have morphed into full-on student surveillance companies, and their sales pitch is a terrifying slurry of war-on-terror/active shooter FUD.

When companies like Gaggle and Securely pitch school-boards on their products, they claim that they can detect incipient in-school ISIS attacks and the like, and use that as justification to spy on kids in-school and out-of-school online activities. These companies are mini-NSAs-for-hire, tracking social media usage and every keystroke and click on school networks and devices, storing it (insecurely) for years, if not decades.

https://www.thegazette.com/subject/opinion/staff-columnist/iowa-city-schools-student-social-media-monitoring-surveillance-gaggle-securly-20200302

They make bizarre claims ("the average 7th grader has 6 Instagram accounts" – which would make 7th graders 25% of the entire IG user-base). And they find terrified parents to endorse spying ("If it's going to protect my child, I don't care how you get the info, just get it"). People who sell security need to sell fear. If we want our kids to care about their privacy, we can't make them "safe" by spying on them all the time and banning any steps they take to make us stop.

I'm coming to Kelowna on March 5 (permalink)

I'm coming to the BC interior for the first time ever, talking about my book Radicalized at the Kelowna library as part of Canada Reads. I'm being hosted by the CBC's Sarah Penton from 6-8PM! It's free to attend but it's ticketed, and the majority of tickets are already gone — if you want to come, now's the time to RSVP.

https://www.eventbrite.ca/e/cbc-radio-presents-in-conversation-with-cory-doctorow-tickets-96154415445

(and if you can't make it, it's OK! The CBC will broadcast the audio and I'll put it my podcast, too)

Cool Mules, an investigative series on a Vice editor's cocaine-smuggling ring (permalink)

Back in 2015, Slava Pastuk was an editor at Vice, and he abused his position there to pressure young, desperate would-be journalists into smuggling suitcases full of millions of dollars' worth of cocaine into Australia.

https://nationalpost.com/news/former-vice-editor-gets-nine-year-sentence-for-recruiting-young-drug-mules-for-massive-cocaine-smuggling-ring

Five of them went to prison, but Slava Pastuk did not (at first). When Pastuk's role in the affair became public and he was indicted and tried, he refused to talk to the press at all, making the whole thing something of a non-story cipher (despite its spectacular details).

Incredibly, though, Canadaland got Slava to talk. At length. And they got the other side of the story, too, both from Slava's victims and those who risked career suicide by turning him down. The result is a new, six-part investigative series called Cool Mules, hosted by Kasia Mychajlowycz, whose work I discovered through the spectacular On The Media.

https://www.canadalandshow.com/shows/cool-mules/

It's modeled on Canadaland's last, spectacular miniseries, Thunder Bay, easily the best investigative series I ever listened to.

https://www.canadalandshow.com/shows/thunder-bay/

This morning's Canadaland features an in-depth, behind-the-scenes look at the making of the series between Mychajlowycz and Jesse Brown, and it has me licking my chops for the series itself.

https://www.canadalandshow.com/podcast/315-the-cocaine-smuggling-ring-at-vice/

Soviet Space Graphics (permalink)

When my grandmother was 12, she was inducted into the Leningrad civil defense corps during the 900 day siege of Leningrad (I wrote a science fiction novella about this called "After the Siege").

http://www.infinitematrix.net/stories/shorts/after-the-siege.html

The story is also available as a five-part audiobook reading by Mary Robinette Kowal:

http://scalzi.com/atseige/afterthesiege1.mp3 http://scalzi.com/atseige/afterthesiege2.mp3 http://scalzi.com/atseige/afterthesiege3.mp3 http://scalzi.com/atseige/afterthesiege4.mp3 http://scalzi.com/atseige/afterthesiege5.mp3

Eventually (years later) my grandmother was evacuated with the women and children across the winter ice and ended up in Siberia, where she met my grandfather, got pregnant, fled to Azerbaijan and birthed my father. They made their way to Canada over six years, through a series of refugee adventures and crises that could each be a novella of its own (the part where she married my grandfather's one-armed partisan fighter brother, for example, and got caught in a pogrom).

My grandmother completely lost contact with her family in Leningrad, for years. More than a decade. My father vividly recounts how he, as a little boy, heard his mother in Toronto answer the phone and say, "Mama, mama" and begin to cry for the family she thought was dead.

Over the years that followed, my grandmother and grandfather traveled to the USSR several times to see her family, and my Leningrad family came often to visit us in Toronto. Whenever they came, the brought Soviet space-program memoribilia.

There was SO MUCH of this stuff (in the early 90s, Russian sf fans used to pay their way to US conventions by shlepping suitcases full of astrosovkitsch to sell at the event), and it was gorgeous and magical. Some of the best art of the Soviet era was produced to celebrate the space program, and my most cherished toys and knickkacks growing up featured Sputnik, Gagarin, and Valentina Tereshkova. Today, much of that stuff is in our home, thanks in part to Ukrainian Ebay sellers who've taken over the astrosovkitsch market from Russian sf fans.

I'm awfully excited, therefore, by the news that Phaidon is bringing out "Soviet Space Graphics: Cosmic Visions from the USSR." It's a lavishly illustrated volume, produced in collaboration with the Moscow Design Museum.

https://www.phaidon.com/store/design/soviet-space-graphics-9781838660536/

If you're ever in St Petersburg and you want to see some amazing historical examples of Soviet space and tech materials, visit the Popov Museum.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A.S._Popov_Central_Museum_of_Communications

Incidentally, my grandmother's baby brother Bora, who stayed behind in Leningrad, grew up to be curator of the Popov. I last saw Uncle Bora in 2005, shortly before his death, and he gave us a curator's behind-the-scenes tour of the museum. You can see my photos from the visit here:

https://www.flickr.com/search/?user_id=37996580417%40N01&sort=date-taken-desc&text=popov&view_all=1

Apple, Nike and Dell's supply chain includes enslaved Uyghurs (permalink)

Phase II of China's Xinjiang concentration camps for ethno-religious minorities (mostly Uyghurs but also other Muslim minorities) is creating slave-labor factories that serve major US brands.

https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-china-51697800

Nike, Apple and Dell's supply chains are all implicated.

As a reminder, the Xinjiang concentration camps used torture, punitive rape, brainwashing, forced medical experimentation and other tactics to "retrain" a disfavored minority.

"Between 2017 and 2019, the ASPI think tank estimates that more than 80,000 Uighurs were transferred out of the far western Xinjiang autonomous region to work in factories across China. It said some were sent directly from detention camps."

The revelations come from a report from the Australian Strategic Policy Institute:

https://www.aspi.org.au/report/uyghurs-sale

The workers enslaved in these factories spend their off-hours in brainwashing sessions, living "in segregated dormitories, with Mandarin lessons and 'ideological training', subjected to constant surveillance and banned from observing religious practices."

Drugs Without the Hot Air (permalink)

I first read "Drugs Without the Hot Air," David Nutt's astoundingly good book about drug policy back in 2012; in the eight years since, hardly a month has gone by without my thinking about it. Now, there's a new, updated edition, extensively revised, and it's an absolute must-read.

Nutt came to fame when he served as the UK "Drugs Czar" under the Labour Government in the late 2000s; especially when Home Secretary Jacqui Smith fired him for his refusal to lie and say that marijuana was more harmful than alcohol, despite the extensive evidence to the contrary (Smith also threatened Nutt for publishing a paper in Nature that compared the neurological harms of recreational horseback riding to harms from recreational MDMA use, a paper that concluded that if horses came in pill form we might call them "Equasy").

Since then, Nutt — an eminent psychopharmacologist researcher and practioner — has continued to campaign, research, and write about evidence-based drugs policy that takes as its central mission to reduce harm and preserve therapeutic benefits from drugs.

Like the first edition of Drugs Without the Hot Air, the new edition serves three missions:

First, to describe how a wide variety of drugs — benzos, cocaine, opoiods, cannabis, etc, but also alcohol, caffeine and nicotine — work in the body, in clear, nontechnical language that anyone can follow.

Next, to describe the harms and benefits of drugs, considered both on individual and societal levels — and also to describe what the best medical evidence tells us about maximizing those benefits and minimizing those harms.

Finally, to recount how governments — mainly in the UK but also in the USA and elsewhere — have responded to the evidence on drug mechanisms, harms and benefits.

Inevitably, part 3 becomes an indictment, as Nutt describes in eye-watering, frustrating, brutal detail how harmful, incoherent, self-serving and cowardly government responses to drugs have been, and how many lives they have ruined — through criminalizing harmless conduct, through treating medical problems as criminal ones, and through badly thought-through policies that caused relatively benign substances to be replaced with far more harmful ones (for example, Nutt traces the lethal rise in fentanyl partly to the successful global interdiction of opium poppies).

One important difference between the new edition and the original is visible progress on this last. In the years since Nutt was fired for refusing to lie about science, he has founded Drugscience, a research and advocacy nonprofit that has scored significant policy wins and made real therapeutic breakthroughs through hard work and rigour.

I don't think you could ask for a more sensible, clear-eyed, and useful book about drugs, from the ones your doctor prescribes to the ones your bartender serves you to the ones you can go to jail for possessing. Nutt is not just a great and principled campaigner, nor merely a talented and dedicated scientist — he's also a superb communicator.

Drugs Without the Hot Air is part of an outstanding series of technical books — mostly about climate change — that have greatly influenced my thinking. The publisher, UIT Cambridge, has several more that I recommend.

This day in history (permalink)

#15yrsago Media professors' SCOTUS brief on why P2P should be legal https://web.archive.org/web/20050910210056/http://www.nyu.edu/classes/siva/mediagrokster.pdf

#15yrsago Study: Used hard-drives full of juicy blackmail material https://web.archive.org/web/20051223054039/http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,2-1487674,00.html

#15yrsago Revolved: Beatles mashup album https://web.archive.org/web/20050221212052/http://www.hearingdouble.co.uk/ccc/

#15yrsago 1121 phrases you can't put on personalized jerseys at nfl.com https://web.archive.org/web/20050304035349/https://www.outsports.com/nfl/2005/0301nflshopnaughtywords.htm

#10yrsago Brits: tell the LibDem Peers not to bring web-censorship to Britain! https://www.openrightsgroup.org/blog/2010/lib-dems-seek-web-blocking

#10yrsago If chess were redesigned by MMORPG developers https://akma.disseminary.org/2010/03/if-chess-were-invented-by-mmog-developers/

#5yrsago America's growing gangs of armed, arrest-making, untrained rent-a-cops https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/crime/private-police-carry-guns-and-make-arrests-and-their-ranks-are-swelling/2015/02/28/29f6e02e-8f79-11e4-a900-9960214d4cd7_story.html

#5yrsago Bruce Schneier's Data and Goliath: The Hidden Battles to Collect Your Data and Control Your World https://boingboing.net/2015/03/02/bruce-schneiers-data-and-gol.html

#1yrago Man-Eaters: Handmaid's Tale meets Cat People in a comic where girls turn into man-eating were-panthers when they get their periods https://boingboing.net/2019/03/02/lycanthropes-v-patriarchy.html

#1yrago Massive study finds strong correlation between "early affluence" and "faster cognitive drop" in old age https://www.pnas.org/content/116/12/5478

#1yrago Comcast assigned every mobile customer the same unchangeable PIN to protect against SIM hijack attacks: 0000 https://arstechnica.com/information-technology/2019/03/a-comcast-security-flub-helped-attackers-steal-mobile-phone-numbers/

#1yrago Improbably, a Black activist is now the owner and leader of the "National Socialist Movement," which he is turning into an anti-racist group https://www.washingtonpost.com/dc-md-va/2019/03/01/how-black-man-outsmarted-neo-nazi-group-became-their-new-leader/?utm_term=.e5eb80c543cb

#1yrago Study that claimed majority of Copyright Directive opposition came from the US assumed all English-language tweets came from Washington, DC https://webschauder.de/wer-zwitschert-zum-eu-urheberrecht/

Colophon (permalink)

Today's top sources: Slashdot (https://slashdot.org), Dark Roasted Blend (https://www.darkroastedblend.com/) and Naked Capitalism (https://nakedcapitalism.com/).

Hugo nominators! My story "Unauthorized Bread" is eligible in the Novella category and you can read it free on Ars Technica: https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/

Upcoming appearances:

Canada Reads Kelowna: March 5, 6PM, Kelowna Library, 1380 Ellis Street, with CBC's Sarah Penton https://www.eventbrite.ca/e/cbc-radio-presents-in-conversation-with-cory-doctorow-tickets-96154415445

Currently writing: I just finished a short story, "The Canadian Miracle," for MIT Tech Review. It's a story set in the world of my next novel, "The Lost Cause," a post-GND novel about truth and reconciliation. I'm getting geared up to start work on the novel now, though the timing is going to depend on another pending commission (I've been solicited by an NGO) to write a short story set in the world's prehistory.

Currently reading: Just started Lauren Beukes's forthcoming Afterland: it's Y the Last Man plus plus, and two chapters in, it's amazeballs. Last month, I finished Andrea Bernstein's "American Oligarchs"; it's a magnificent history of the Kushner and Trump families, showing how they cheated, stole and lied their way into power. I'm getting really into Anna Weiner's memoir about tech, "Uncanny Valley." I just loaded Matt Stoller's "Goliath" onto my underwater MP3 player and I'm listening to it as I swim laps.

Latest podcast: Disasters Don't Have to End in Dystopias: https://craphound.com/podcast/2020/03/01/disasters-dont-have-to-end-in-dystopias/

Upcoming books: "Poesy the Monster Slayer" (Jul 2020), a picture book about monsters, bedtime, gender, and kicking ass. Pre-order here: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781626723627?utm_source=socialmedia&utm_medium=socialpost&utm_term=na-poesycorypreorder&utm_content=na-preorder-buynow&utm_campaign=9781626723627

(we're having a launch for it in Burbank on July 11 at Dark Delicacies and you can get me AND Poesy to sign it and Dark Del will ship it to the monster kids in your life in time for the release date).

"Attack Surface": The third Little Brother book, Oct 20, 2020.

"Little Brother/Homeland": A reissue omnibus edition with a very special, s00per s33kr1t intro.

[electromurphy-blog2]

buy 10 instagram likes

In case you missed out on yesterday's article, the Fantastic Amplifier was not the latest guru over-priced product... Nor was itsome Google loophole...Not at all. The Truly Amazing Amplifier relies on the fundamentals Introduced by the summertime blockbuster Inception. You knowthe one about the Best Way to plant Thoughts into random people's minds? Well... The PuppetMaster has been already doing that for years. 

And he does not need those fancy-shmancy tech (or unique effects)to plant dangerous thoughts to prospect's heads handy him money time and again. Here is the shocker:Big corporations like Nike, Coke as well as Google are doing Inception for ages past There is a reason why when you think about sugared water... You Think of Coke... Or whenever you consider Nike... You presumeabout shoes. 

The large boys have accessibility to some diabolical persuasion force That could bulldoze the mental barriers of countless ofpeople and also have wedged their thoughts --their brands--to the public consciousness. Do not you need it is possible to have use of such untold power? Don't you wish it is possible to exploit their huge amounts ofdollars of emotional research and unleash the effect of your brand, product and service with such ferocity? Do not you wish youcan cruelly control your niche such a way that is critical? Excellent news. Today you can.

 And that's because the Puppet-master Has functioned behind the scenes to top brands for many, manyyears. And out of that arcane knowledge he's crafted the truly amazing Amplifier. This diagram may be the base stone for your own brand new. It is a System that transforms your thoughts into becoming the prominent ones on the market. Here Is What they imply:1) Visuals:For the brand to signify something, your prospect's mind Need to visualize it. 

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Naming makes things more real than it is. And that traitguarantees these best practices will never leave the workplace owing to its perceived power. Thus a quick tip? Give your thoughts methodology per name. You'll begin winning in the market place of ideas. 4) Language:Perfectly when he remarked language defines culture.