olive parka

Running into your ex, Harry (AU)

Or when neither of you can remember why you broke up anyway, and it’s just dinner right?

Sundays are your favorite day. Sundays are meant for cozy snuggles, farmers markets, coffee shops and used bookstores. This particular Sunday you woke with a smile, already looking forward to the soothing sips of a hot coffee and smells of the old worn pages of books.

Today is one of the first days in months you feel a lasting feeling of happiness. Pushing up and towards the bathroom, you can’t help the little pep in your step.

Groaning as you catch a glance of yourself in the mirror, you shimmy your baggy pajamas off your legs and head towards the shower. As the water flows over your skin, your brain begins to wake up and plan the morning to come.

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snow day

GENRE → fluff
PAIRING → jae (day6) | reader
WARNINGS → swearing?
A/N → this was requested! this is the first official fic on this blog and i hope you like it because i had no idea what i was writing or doing and ahHhH im really nervous to post this???? #ripmia2k17

It was one of those Winters.

The type that brought with it a certain sort of cold that left you hurriedly searching for another blanket because two weren’t enough, or the one that made you stay in bed all day and put off daily responsibilities to relish in the warmth. The one that made fresh, crisp snow appear on your lawn every day and one that coaxed young children out to play in the cold weather, despite it being minus 1 degrees.

Even though it was nice, a change to the extremely hot Summer months you had experienced earlier on in the year, your body didn’t seem to be adapting to the cold–you were freezing. So, naturally, you had expected to lounge around in your pajamas all weekend and watch movies while drinking boiling-hot tea in an attempt to keep warm.

But you should have known that Jae had other ideas.

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if i was, i’d be

If I was…

a month: November
a day of the week: Thursday
a planet: Neptune
a sea animal: Australian Box Jelly Fish
a piece of furniture: wooden kitchen table 
a gemstone: crazy lace
a flower: artichoke (actually a thistle)
a kind of weather: Sunny, regular gusts of wind and warm, not hot. 
a color: poppy seed black
an emotion: intuitive
a fruit: lemon
a sound: uncapping a pen
an element: oxygen
a place: North York Moors National Park
a taste: olive oil with fresh garlic, thyme, basil, and oregano
a scent: french bread in the oven
an object: indigo blanket/scarf
a body part: right hand
a song: girl from the north country ( cover) / lady jane
a pair of shoes: worn, scuffed, lace up boots with a sturdy heel. Sometimes you find them buffed to shine. 

「IN STOCK」- Rebuild by Needles SS15 Drop 2/2

Rebuild by Needles - Camouflage Shirt -> Shooter Jacket in Indigo Dye

Rebuild by Needles - Camouflage Shirt -> Shooter Jacket in Camouflage

Rebuild by Needles - Camouflage Shirt -> Parka in Indigo Dye

Rebuild by Needles - Camouflage Shirt -> Parka in Camouflage

Rebuild by Needles - Jean Jacket -> Motocross Jacket in Blue

Rebuild by Needles - Jean Pant -> Motocross Pant in Blue

Rebuild by Needles - T/C Fatigue Shirt -> Coach Jacket in Olive

Rebuild by Needles - T/C Fatigue Shirt -> Parka in Olive

Might get some hate for this but..

There’s an underlying narrative in the accusation of a lack of criticality, that as a person of color, I felt was problematic but had trouble articulating. In my own experience, the ones that are usually making these accusations of a lack of criticality against their peers tend to subscribe to an overtly Eurocentric, white and millennial thread of design canon. As such, these people seem to take their own reference point in graphic design for granted, and have implemented a false intellectual hierarchy with their own views at the top of this chain. The term “critical graphic design” has been essentially oligopolized by the popularity of design practices originating from The Netherlands trickled through the rest of Europe and finally arriving in the United States. Texts published by Hyphen Press, Iaspis and journals such as Dot Dot Dot and F.R. David have successfully disseminated their ideas and offered some productive steps towards newer modes of practice. What remains, however, is the underrepresentation of various design cultures that don’t necessarily fit into this strict mold.

Understandably, when it comes to design originating from East-Asia, the language barrier restricts the level of access to Western viewers and what is left is simply form. I find it unfortunate that in more than one private conversation with my peers, that design originating from East-Asia is considered visually stunning but ultimately at a lower intellectual bracket to its European cousin when viewed through the lens of Western Art History. A major exception, I’ve noticed would be certain subsets of Korean graphic design when visual language embraces certain leanings of the Dutch-International Style (sorry, I can’t think of a better term to describe it). Studios such as Sulki & Min and Work Room, as talented as they are, are more easily accessible—even with the language barrier. The pain of this is the implicit hypocritical assumption that if looks like critical design, it must be critical design.

I don’t mean to make this strictly about national borders, there are many other parallel instances that are based on academic background, ideologies, even ones attitude towards the Internet. I am simply making these observations as someone who embarked on a Western design education at a young age, long before I fully comprehended who I even was and what I stood for.

A call towards greater rigor and exercise of thought in a practice is greatly appreciated, but just as it can be a noble aspiration, it can just as easily become a tool for the established to dismiss discussion and exploration if it just so happens to venture off into a realm that doesn’t resonate with them. It’s a vague, arbitrary, and ultimately subjective metric that puts the defendant at the mercy of the prosecutor. Anyone that is more obsessed with form than I am is vapid or over-indulgent, anyone that is more academic than me lacks soul or wit. It’s the same attitude that the old-guard Modernists leveled towards the work that was being produced at Cranbrook and CalArts during the 90's—only this time it’s dressed up in desert boots, a pop-up shop parka, and Oliver Peoples frames.

no hope for the weary (if you let them win without a fight)

[five times laura comes out + one time she doesn’t. i know carmilla is definitely not a coming out story—nor should it be—but. yknow. they’re fun. laura-centric. hollstein, so much good hollstein. ALSO POC PUNK TRANS VAMP IS HERE. imagine-some-gays thanks friend, as always.]


no hope for the weary (if you let them win without a fight)


if one heart can mend another/ only then can we begin/ so won’t you hold on a little longer/ don’t let them get away
—lykke li, ‘no rest for the wicked’



You don’t go all that often anymore, but today you have something really important to say, so you go pick up some yellow chrysanthemums—her favorites—and take the bus. 

The cemetery is beautiful, and strangely, you’ve always thought that, and you walk to her grave. You’re fourteen and she died five years ago, but sometimes her absence hits you so incredibly hard, mostly because you have so many things to tell her. Sometimes you do, you come and talk to her, even though you definitely don’t believe in any gods or afterlives; it’s comforting nonetheless.

You trace the engraving on the headstone—Julia Hollis, Loving Wife and Mother, 1967-2004—and then sit with your back against it.

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Why isnt any one talking about how shippuden era Shino & Kiba were literally the only ninjas who knew high fashion, literally Shino wore a green Acne Studio parka in olive green with a high neck ribbed Yohji Yamamoto top underneath. Kiba is clearly wearing a Saint Laurent Leather Jacket with a Rick Owen’s Mesh Shirt, the two of them are also working Yeezy Season 1 pants with Rick Owen Leather Spartan Sandals.