Out of curiosity does your bright pretty vest attract much more attention than a plainer one would?
Honestly it’s just the same. People are assholes regardless of whether or not I have used my pretty vest or not. But I do notice that people compliment the vest and don’t try to pet because there is less surface area exposed.
I’ve seen handlers that use a black vest with completely black black and white patches that say in caps DO NOT PET, have their dog get kissy noises or awwww and constant “Can I pet” or sometimes not even asking to pet, just doing it.
There’s actually a little discourse over service dogs wearing customized and pretty vests because of the fact some think that one represents all service dog handlers. The counterargument (Which is my personal belief as well) is that if I can decorate my wheelchair, O2 tank, cane or other medical devices and not be judged then it goes without saying that I can put whatever on my dog. A service dog is made by behavior, not the vest.
Some people do tend to not realize that service dogs can have cool vests that are indicative of their handler’s personality. I have seen Bob’s Burgers vests, disney (Moana, Beauty and the Beast, Wreck-it Ralph, Haunted mansion) themed, video game (LoZ, Mario) themed, and generally odd colors such as sparkly pink cloth vests etc. TBH I would just assume that any dog acting well-behaved in an area where pets should not be is a service dog and ignore it.
so i was watching cinderella while doing my nails and waiting for them to dry which was clearly a Mistake because now i can’t help but think -
the evil stepmother was always evil, okay. say her abuse of her own daughters was different than that of cinderella’s - but it was still abuse. giving them impossible expectations, telling them they were never good enough, never pretty enough, never smart enough. and then she gets married, and anastasia and drizella are ecstatic because this man seems kind and warm and maybe just maybe he can temper their mother, maybe with him around she won’t be so cruel. so they’re on their very best behavior in the beginning, they do just as their mother taught - they trot out their best upper court manners in an attempt to get their new stepfather to like them. but it just comes off as cold and snooty and they’re trying, they are, they’re just bad at it. and they see how he is with cinderella, the smiling girl their own age, and they are jealous. they don’t mean to be, they try not to be, they know it isn’t becoming of young ladies. but she gets hugs and kisses and affection and they get rulers slapped on their hands when they reach for desert and sharp jabs to their sides when they slouch and - soon they hate cinderella, not for anything she’s done, but for what she has and they dont
but then her father dies. and it’s all a tumble of things and cinderella is crying and they’ve lost their only chance at escaping their mother’s clutches and it’s terrible. and everything settles and there’s no reason to be jealous anymore but resentment is hard to let go of and they don’t know what to do. they’re only kids too after all. and they’re so terribly bad at comforting people, they can do flowery words and know all the right bows but cinderella is so sad and they just don’t know what to do with that, because they’re supposed to be sisters but they’re not even friends
and slowly but surely their mother starts abusing cinderella, starts making her a maid in her own home, and she’s their mother, what are anastasia and drizella supposed to do? she rules them with an iron fist, and cinderella doesn’t even like them anyway, it’s none of their business.
except one night anastasia crawls into her sister’s bed in the middle of the night and wakes her up. “i was thirsty,” she explains, eyes wide and shiny, and they’re bad at this with other people but drizella has no problems with pulling anastasia into her arms. the younger girl clutches her sister and continues, “i was thirsty and i went down to the kitchen to get some water and - and cinderella is still up! she’s doing the dishes, and she should be asleep, mom is going to make her make breakfast in the morning and -” she cuts herself off with a hiccup and whispers, “it’s not fair.”
“life isn’t fair,” drizella says, echoing one of their mother’s favorite phrases. but her sister is staring at her with wet eyes, and it’s not like their mother is likely to get up before sunrise anyway, she hates waking up, so she pulls herself and anastasia out of bed and off they go.
From The Wind’s Twelve Quarters: Short Stories
by Ursula Le Guin
With a clamor of bells that set the swallows soaring, the Festival of Summer came to the
city Omelas, bright-towered by the sea. The rigging of the boats in harbor sparkled with flags. In
the streets between houses with red roofs and painted walls, between old moss-grown gardens
and under avenues of trees, past great parks and public buildings, processions moved. Some were
decorous: old people in long stiff robes of mauve and grey, grave master workmen, quiet, merry
women carrying their babies and chatting as they walked. In other streets the music beat faster, a
shimmering of gong and tambourine, and the people went dancing, the procession was a dance.
Children dodged in and out, their high calls rising like the swallows’ crossing flights, over the
music and the singing. All the processions wound towards the north side of the city, where on the
great water-meadow called the Green’ Fields boys and girls, naked in the bright air, with mudstained
feet and ankles and long, lithe arms, exercised their restive horses before the race. The
horses wore no gear at all but a halter without bit. Their manes were braided with streamers of
silver, gold, and green. They flared their nostrils and pranced and boasted to one another; they
were vastly excited, the horse being the only animal who has adopted our ceremonies as his own.
Far off to the north and west the mountains stood up half encircling Omelas on her bay. The air
of morning was so clear that the snow still crowning the Eighteen Peaks burned with white-gold
fire across the miles of sunlit air, under the dark blue of the sky. There was just enough wind to
make the banners that marked the racecourse snap and flutter now and then. In the silence of the
broad green meadows one could hear the music winding through the city streets, farther and
nearer and ever approaching, a cheerful faint sweetness of the air that from time to time trembled
and gathered together and broke out into the great joyous clanging of the bells.
Shoot when it’s light out for best quality photos, because natural lighting is honestly your best friend. Taking them when it’s lighter out will also make it easier to edit them.
** A lesser known tip that I’ve learned myself is to take photos in pure light. My room is pink, so unless I take pictured in the middle of my room at noon they turn out with an annoying purple tint. it’s hard to edit that out, so I sometimes go to other spots in my house to take photos.
EXTRA: If you’re taking photos with a screen turn down the brightness. High brightness gives the screen so much glare that you often can’t see anything other than a bright spot.
Taking the photos:
I’m using a colorful planner as an example, so I’m using a white background.
EXTRA: lots of pillowcases/sheets=lots of backgrounds!
I use Aviary and vsco, and I edit the brightness/exposure, contrast, saturation, warmth, and tint. On vsco I add either the filters A6 or OC and add on the following to fit.
Brightness/exposure: turn these up depending on how bright your original photos are
Contrast: turn this up for clarity
Saturation: turn the saturation up because photos will generally look washed out after you turn up the brightness (be careful that it doesn’t look unnatural)
Warmth: always turn this down, especially if you take pictures in artificial light.
Tint: this is what I use to correct the purple-y tint that a lot of my pictures cave because of the color of my walls (I turn it greener, but I imagine it’ll be opposite if you have a green/blue room).
You don’t have to do this at all to be a good studyblr. Plenty of amazing studyblrs don’t jump through this many hoops every time they want to post. I would actually encourage you to not do all of this every time you want to post. I used to spend hours agonizing over my photos, and, believe it or not, my grades went down! Now I know how to balance the aesthetic and actual studying, but I was so caught up in how my notes looked that I wasn’t studying them. If you like to take pretty notes and photographs, then have fun with it, but definitely don’t feel pressured to do all of this if you don’t want to.
Like Harry, Minerva McGonagall seems to have hit her stride in Order of the Phoenix.
“Why didn’t you send us a letter by owl? I believe you have an owl?” Professor McGonagall said coldly to Harry.
Harry gaped at her. Now she said it, that seemed the obvious thing to have done.
“I – I didn’t think –”
“That,” said Professor McGonagall, “is obvious.”
“Really, Severus,” said Professor McGonagall sharply. “I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn’t hit over the head with a broomstick.”
“You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don’t let you off homework today. I assure you that if you do die, you need not hand it in.”
Professor McGonagall poked a large spoon into the nearest tureen. “Tripe, Sybil?”
“But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous.”
“That explains a great deal,” said Professor McGonagall tartly.
“Didn’t you listen to Dolores Umbridge’s speech at the start of term feast, Potter?”
“Yeah,” said Harry.
“Yeah… she said… progress will be prohibited or… well, it meant that… that the Ministry of Magic is trying to interfere at Hogwarts.”
“Well, I’m glad you listen to Hermione Granger at any rate,” she said, pointing him out of her office.
“I was just wondering, Professor, whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspec–”
“Obviously I received it, or I would have asked you what you are going in my classroom,” said Professor McGonagall.
“I wonder,” said Professor McGonagall in cold fury, turning on Professor Umbridge, “how you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking.”
“Very well,” [Umbridge] said, “you will receive the results of your inspection in ten days’ time.”
“I can hardly wait,” said Professor McGonagall, in a coldly indifferent voice,
“I should have made my meaning plainer,” said Professor McGonagall, turning at last to look Umbridge directly in the eyes. “He has achieved high marks in all Defence Against the Dark Arts tests set by a competent teacher.”
“Well, usually when a person shakes their head,” said McGonagall coldly, “they mean “‘no’”. So unless Miss Edgecombe is using a form of sign-language as yet unknown to humans –”
“Dear, dear,” said Professor McGonagall sardonically, as one of the dragons soared around her classroom, emitting loud bangs and exhaling flame. “Miss Brown, would you mind running along to the Headmistress and informing her that we have an escape firework in our classroom?”
"Take Charms,” said Professor McGonagall, “and I shall drop Augusta a line reminding her that just because she failed her Charms O.W.L., the subject is not necessarily worthless.”
“Our headmaster is taking a short break,“ said Professor McGonagall, pointing at the Snape-shaped hole in the window.
The Elemental Plane of Planes, could it be any plainer?
Context: We begin a campaign described as “DnD planar faction go all World War I, all of reality becomes a battleground and suffers.” We open the campaign and immediately trip over problems with the English language and spoken word. Our DM, unfortunately, has been up all night and had to go get something checked out as he believed he had a concussion.
DM: So the Angelic and Draconic armies are fighting one another on a plain, and you’ve had to take refuge in a ruined fort nearby.
Robo-Snek: Err… is that a plain or a plane? Like a grassland or a sliver of an alternate dimension?
Orc-ceror: This is a very important distinction.
DM: Ah, the grassland.
Orc-ceror: It could also be an airplane.
DM: It’s a grassland in the elemental plane of planes. There’s nothing to eat but airline food.
Orc-ceror: That’s an idea that never took off.
DM: It really crashed and burned. I should’ve specified that it’s the grassland. Confound you, English language!
Robo-Snek: It’s okay, you’ve had a concussion. You’re probably on auto-pilot right now.
DM: ANYWAY! You’ve all taken refuge in a ruined fort on the edge of the plain.
Robo-Snek: Like on one of the wings? There’s…. some… THING…. onthewing!
Time to cleanse the palate with a bit of positive
One of the tropes that plagues, and has plagued, romance
fiction ever since the invention of the novel is the idea of female consent not
being necessary as long as the male is desirable and/or really wants her.
Often, the heroine will succumb either to her own desires or his, whether she
is entirely willing to do so or not, and that is framed as being analogous with
Well, two hundred years before Fifty Shades of Grey played fast and loose with consent issues, I
present to you the antithesis of this trope in Mr. Darcy of Pemberley.
Elizabeth Bennet, the heroine of Pride and Prejudice, receives two proposals of marriage that are
eerily similar, despite the outward differences of her two suitors. Mr. Collins
and Mr. Darcy both spring unexpected and unwelcome proposals of marriage on
her, calling to light her family’s lack of financial security and connection,
seeing themselves as condescending to offer for her, and being completely perplexed
by her refusal to accept them.
Elizabeth to Collins: You could not make me happy, and I am
convinced I am the last woman in the world who would make you so.
Elizabeth to Darcy: I had not
known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I
could ever be prevailed on to marry.“
Elizabeth’s words leave no ambiguity for either gentleman:
she soundly rejects them both in a similar fashion. From this, readers may infer
that since Darcy and Elizabeth end up together, it is Darcy who is persistent
in his romantic intentions after Elizabeth has said “no.” But in fact, it is
Collins who refuses to take no for an answer, and Darcy who never oversteps his
The first thing Collins says after he hears her rejection is
that she cannot be serious in her refusal.
"I am not now to learn,” replied Mr. Collins, with a formal wave of the hand, “that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their favour; and that sometimes the refusal is repeated a second or even a third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what you have just said, and shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long.”
So elevated is his own sense of
self-worth that she has to explain to him that she did, in fact, mean what she
“Upon my word, sir,” cried Elizabeth, “your hope is rather an extraordinary one after my declaration. I do assure you that I am not one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal.”
What is the result? Collins still doesn’t take no for an answer, again:
“Were it certain that Lady Catherine would think so,” said Mr. Collins very gravely – “but I cannot imagine that her ladyship would at all disapprove of you. And you may be certain that when I have the honour of seeing her again, I shall speak in the highest terms of your modesty, economy, and other amiable qualifications.”
“Indeed, Mr. Collins, all praise of me will be unnecessary. You must give me leave to judge for myself, and pay me the compliment of believing what I say.”
"When I do myself the honour of speaking to you next on this subject, I shall hope to receive a more favourable answer than you have now given me; though I am far from accusing you of cruelty at present, because I know it to be the established custom of your sex to reject a man on the first application, and perhaps you have even now said as much to encourage my suit as would be consistent with the true delicacy of the female character.”
“Really, Mr. Collins,” cried Elizabeth with some warmth, “you puzzle me exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to you in the form of encouragement, I know not how to express my refusal in such a way as may convince you of its being one.”
must give me leave to flatter myself, my dear cousin, that your refusal of my
addresses is merely words of course. My reasons for believing it are briefly
these: – It does not appear to me that my hand is unworthy your acceptance, or
that the establishment I can offer would be any other than highly desirable. My
situation in life, my connections with the family of De Bourgh, and my
relationship to your own, are circumstances highly in my favour; and you should
take it into farther consideration that, in spite of your manifold attractions,
it is by no means certain that another offer of marriage may ever be made you.
Your portion is unhappily so small, that it will in all likelihood undo the
effects of your loveliness and amiable qualifications. As I must therefore
conclude that you are not serious in your rejection of me, I shall chuse to
attribute it to your wish of increasing my love by suspense, according to the
usual practice of elegant females.“
do assure you, sir, that I have no pretension whatever to that kind of elegance
which consists in tormenting a respectable man. I would rather be paid the
compliment of being believed sincere. I thank you again and again for the
honour you have done me in your proposals, but to accept them is absolutely
impossible. My feelings in every respect forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not
consider me now as an elegant female, intending to plague you, but as a
rational creature, speaking the truth from her heart.“
are uniformly charming!” cried he, with an air of awkward gallantry;
“and I am persuaded that, when sanctioned by the express authority of both
your excellent parents, my proposals will not fail of being acceptable.”
In fact, Collins only stops
pursuing Elizabeth when her father puts his foot down and backs her refusal. Pride and Prejudice is a comedy, and so
the tone is light on the surface, but beneath the satire is a very real, earnest
desire to communicate how often women’s words—even their consent—are dismissed
as fickle or inconsequential. Seeing our heroine not fleeing dramatically from
a villain, but pursued by an entitled man who doesn’t take her words seriously,
we feel Elizabeth’s sense of outrage and how belittling it is for Collins to
act this way.
By contrast, though we might imagine a love interest like
Darcy to be overcome with passion and try to make her his own by any means,
Darcy is remarkably restrained and respectful without ever losing his ardent
love for the woman he wants to marry. The first divergence of his response from
Collins’ occurs right after he has been rejected:
this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! I might,
perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected. But
it is of small importance.“
The wording here is important. He doesn’t demand that she
explain why she rejected him, but
rather why she was so impolite about doing so (since he has no knowledge of her
dislike of him). He continues to be honest about his objections to her family’s
behavior and place in the world, and to be angry at her for defending the
duplicitous Wickham, but he never tries to convince her that she was wrong in
rejecting him, even though he still views her as a social inferior.
After their heated conversation, Darcy leaves with an
apology that he has occupied her for so long:
have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have
now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up
so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and
This is a far cry from Collins following Elizabeth around
after the proposal and trying to go over her head to her parents for support.
But wait—doesn’t the love interest write Elizabeth a letter,
convincing her to give him another chance?
No. Both Darcy’s letter and its method of delivery are
respectful of Elizabeth’s boundaries and her refusal of him.
It should be noted that an unmarried gentlewoman receiving
letters from a man she was not engaged to resulted in scandal if it were ever
exposed. If Darcy had wanted to compel Elizabeth to marry him, he would only
have had to deliver the letter publicly, or through the post. Instead, he
delivers the letter in person, when they are alone in a park and there is no
chance of discovery. It is still a bit of a risk, though, and so he asks (not
demands) that she read it:
“Will you do me the honour
of reading that letter?“
Right from the beginning, Darcy reassures Elizabeth that he
is not trying to impose on her or get her to accept him after she has made her
"Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter,
by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments or
renewal of those offers which were last night so disgusting to you.
While it is more than apparent that her rejection stung and
he is still in love with her, he never brings up the subject of the proposal
again—the contents are a defense of the charges she had laid against his
character, as well as a warning against Wickham for her own safety. He doesn’t
ask for a second chance or demand she reconsider her words, even in light of
this new information. Moreover, he trusts her with the knowledge of his
sister’s near-elopement with Wickham (which could cause a scandal if
discovered), thus risking as much by delivering the letter as Elizabeth does by
accepting it. In every way, he trusts her judgment and keeps her wishes in
When they meet again at Pemberley, Darcy is trying to reform
his behavior. He is cordial to her tradesman uncle and aunt, and has divested
himself of the haughtiness that prevented her from seeing his true worth
initially. Darcy does not give himself permission to pursue Elizabeth as a
result of this change in character; it is only after they have met and talked
cordially that he asks her, not to speak with him alone, but to meet his
sister. In fact, he resists making romantic overtures for the duration of the
visit, which ends abruptly when Elizabeth discovers her sister’s elopement with
Wickham. And even there, when she and Darcy are accidentally alone during her
distress, he makes no move to use the occasion as an excuse to “comfort” her
with his advances. His reaction is, in fact, quite the opposite:
am afraid you have been long desiring my absence, nor have I anything to plead
in excuse of my stay, but real, though unavailing, concern.”
Another opportunity arises for Darcy to compel Elizabeth to
marry him, this time out of gratitude. Unable to see Elizabeth so wretched, he
finds Lydia and Wickham in London and, at great expense, convinces them to
marry. He saves not only her sister’s reputation but that of her entire family.
Yet rather than use that as an example to Elizabeth of what a good person he
is, he forbids her aunt and uncle from mentioning that it was he who saved the
Bennets’ good name. Elizabeth doesn’t even know he was involved until Lydia
thoughtlessly gives the game away (after she, too, was sworn to secrecy).
How then, do Lizzy and Darcy get together? It is Elizabeth
herself who gives Darcy a reason to believe her opinion of him has improved.
During a verbal duel with Darcy’s formidable aunt, she comes out the winner and
point-blank refuses to give Lady Catherine a promise not to pursue Mr. Darcy.
Lady Catherine petulantly tries to cut the problem off at the source by
relating everything to her nephew. It works about as well as you’d expect.
for her ladyship, its effect had been exactly contrariwise.
"It taught me to hope,“ said he,
"as I had scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before. I knew enough of
your disposition to be certain, that had you been absolutely, irrevocably
decided against me, you would have acknowledged it to Lady Catherine, frankly
What prompts Darcy to renew his offer of marriage is nothing
more or less than evidence that Elizabeth had seen his change of heart and
“You are too generous
to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell
me so at once.My affections
and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject
Above is Darcy’s second proposal. After hearing her first
rejection, he takes her at her word, respectfully gives her information that
might have led her to mistaken conclusions about him, leaves even before he is
asked to, reforms his own behavior, never takes advantage of their being alone
to make unwanted advances, assists her and her family without taking any
credit, and once he has seen enough signs to think she might accept him, renews
his offer once and only once. If she says no again, unlike Collins, he will not
continue to pester her or seek her out. He will not try to convince her that
her decision was wrong. It is a sad statement on society that this is a
remarkable thing, no less in the real world than in fiction, and all too
prevalent in heroes of romance even two hundred years later. There is no
shortage of love interests who mistake passion for permission, conflict for
consent, and adversity for flirtation—but there is also no excuse for this to
continue, particularly now. If a novel published in 1813 can understand the letter and spirit of
consent, I think we can do better in our own time.
Imagine the team leaving for a mission. Allura and Lance are alone. It's awkward. Then, Lance, the love child of the beauty, asks Allura if he can try one of her dresses on. Allura wanted to try wearing Lance's outfit since day zero. They include make-up and karaoke battle.
*soft gasp* Anon, I do believe you’ve earned yourself a small fic :3
“We’ll be back soon. Try not to blow up the Castle while we’re gone.” Shiro chuckled as he clapped Lance on the shoulder, the other Paladins already heading for their ziplines. Lance rolled his eyes. “Blowing stuff up is Keith’s thing.” He blatantly ignored the Red Paladin’s indignant “No it isn’t!” and Pidge’s snickering in favor of grinning at his team leader. “I’ll be fine, besides, I’ve got Allura with me. I’m pretty sure that between us, the Castle will be just fine.”
Shiro nodded and headed off for his own zipline. Lance heard Blue’s pouty rumble in his mind as her sisters left without her. “I know, Beautiful. But that last battle damaged you pretty badly, so you need to stay in the Hangars to heal up.” He soothed his Lion mentally.
The mission was a supply run anyways, not a lot of action, and Coran was going with them in order to identify any possible poisons to avoid. So Lance offered to stay behind in favor of Shiro getting to go, as it was another space mall moon and he hadn’t been able to go last time.
Lance thought staying behind was worth it anyways, as he’d seen the excited sparkle in the Black Paladin’s eyes at the thought of exploring a swap moon. But now it was quiet, almost too quiet, and boredom filtered in quickly.
Allura cleared her throat awkwardly, and Lance turned to face her. “So, Lance… what shall we do while we wait for the others to return? The mice can show you some tricks if you’d like…” she trailed off a little, attempting to clear away the awkward silence left in the wake of the other Paladins departure.
Lance thought for a moment, before eyeing Allura’s dress thoughtfully, contemplating. “Lance?” Allura raised an eyebrow. Lance decided to hell with it and blurted out his current thought. “Could I try on one of your dresses?!?” Allura blinked, surprised. That was certainly not what she expected, but she rolled with it anyways. “Only if I may try on your Earth clothing. It looks like a very different fabric than any Altean clothing has. I’ve always wondered what it felt like!”
Lance grinned. “Deal.” A bright smile spread across Allura’s face. “To my wardrobe!” She declared, marching over to Lance and dragging him through the hallways to her separate closet room where all her outfits were stored. Lance laughed as he stumbled into the huge room full of cute dresses and long, flowing skirts.
He gasped in awe at all the pretty designs and patterns, trailing his fingers over the silky fabric of one gorgeous blue dress. Allura seemed to bounce on her heels almost excitedly as she rummaged around in a certain cabinet built at chest height in the wall, pulling out what looked like makeup containers. “If you are to dress like me, you should at least enhance your features as well, though I doubt I can fix your ears.” She stated, Lance merely smirking in return.
“I’ll be right back, I’ll just go grab my clothes from my room real quick!” He chirped as he bolted out of the closet and ran for his room.
Soon enough, within the hour Lance was sporting fake blue Altean markings and wearing a floor length silver, blue and white dress, a slit up the left side to display some leg and the sleeves barely attached and flowy, shoulders bared and with a plunging backline. A pretty dark silver sash tied it together at the waist, wrapping up in an “X” across this chest and along the backline cut. Allura had even accented his cheekbones and eyes with some dark blue eyeshadow and pale rose gold blush and highlights.
Lance twirled around in the mirror, awed at how pretty he looked, extending his left leg and smiling. The light colors really made his darker skin pop. Allura clapped her hands excitedly. “You look stunning, Lance!” He turned and shot her a pair of finger guns. “I’m always stunning, but in this outfit I’m positively radiant.” He said confidently, preening. Allura rolled her eyes playfully. After an entire year in space, the flirty nature of the Blue Paladin was now recognized as nothing but pure fun, a game to relieve tensions during the war.
“Your turn, Princess!” Lance said happily, handing her his casual clothes. “Don’t worry, I won’t look. Trust me, in my family, looking at a dressing girl is punished by La Chancla.” He seemed to shudder at the memory, causing Allura to giggle in amusement. Lance turned instead to go through the jewelry box, careful not to disturb the mice, looking for something to accent his neck and collarbone a little more while Allura dressed behind him.
“Alright! I believe I have it on correctly! Though this other shirt is confusing.” He turned and yep, she was holding up his jacket and eyeing it warily. Everything else was on correctly though. Laughing, Lance took his jacket from the bewildered Altean and motioned for her to turn around. He then proceeded to pull her arms through the sleeves, adjusting the jacket properly. “There! You look almost human! Except for the markings and ears…” he explained, gesturing Allura to look at the mirror.
Allura turned this way and that, smirking at her appearance. “The human part I can fix!” She declared, before concentrating and shifting her features into a plainer, Earthen face. She blinked open normal, blue gray eyes and stared at her reflection, Lance gaping in shock. “Oh my. That is… quite a difference… my ears are quite ugly, and I feel a tad bit strange without my markings. And are all human eyes this dull?” She muttered, poking at the smooth, tan skin where her markings used to be.
The mice squeaked in shock from their spot napping in the jewelry box, snapping Lance out of his stupor. “Oh my gosh you look like my older sister…” he whispered, pressing a palm to his mouth. Allura turned to face him. “Your older sister?” Lance nodded. “Yeah. Maria. She’s a flight attendant back on Earth. Though she seems kinda stern all the time, whenever she was home with the family, she always used to instigate karaoke competitions with the rest of us.” He said wistfully, eyes almost distant at the memory.
Allura hummed thoughtfully. “Ka-ree-oh-kee? What is that?” She asked, confused. Lance brightened almost instantaneously. “Oh! Karaoke is basically a game where you sing along to a song and try to hit all the right notes. It’s mostly done for fun, but in a competition the person who sings the best wins. We usually had a panel of judges made up out of the rest of the family who weren’t participating, it was a whole lot of fun. Hunk used to come over to my place and join in all the time, dude has the singing voice of an angel!” He explained excitedly, hands waving about as he talked to make his point.
Allura smiled at his enthusiasm. “I think we had a game like that on Altea. We called it Utakita, and it was the same concept as your karaohkay although you had to make up the song yourself instead of singing along to something already made. Whoever made the best music with what they had available was the winner. I do miss playing that game, my mother was quite exceptional at it.” She informed him, reaching over to gather the mice up in her hands.
Lance pondered for a moment, thinking. “What if we can still play? I brought my phone with me from Earth, it has all my music on it. We could have a sing off and the mice can be the judges!” He exclaimed, Allura gasping and clapping her hands together in jubilation. “Lance, that’s a brilliant idea! We can hold it in the main common room!” She trilled, face alight in excitement.
Both immediately dashed off to set up the game, Lance grabbing his phone and Allura finding a music enhancer to increase the volume of Lance’s music player. It took some trial and error, but eventually it was set to an acceptable volume to sing along too.
So imagine the team’s surprise (and amusement) when they walked in after the mission to the source of the loud music to find a dolled up Lance in a dress and a human Allura wearing the Blue Paladin’s clothes singing loudly into hairbrushes along to She Wolf by Shakira.
//this….. got wayyyyy too long…. hope you enjoyed this Lance and Allura bonding time! :3
(Lance won btw. Have you even heard that boy’s singing voice? Jeremy Shada is an angel I swear👌🏻)
Shibori kimono. Taisho
period (1912-1926), Japan. The Kimono
Gallery. A silk shibori kimono featuring large ‘yabane’ (arrow-feather) motifs
of shibori with silk and metallic thread embroidery highlights. This kimono is
patterned entirely in fine shibori (tie-die). The arrow feather (yabane) motif
first became fashionable in Japan as early as the Heian era – initially with
martial connotations – and during the Edo era it was often used on kimono for
ladies in waiting. The motif was very popular on schoolgirl and teacher kasuri
(ikat) kimonos of the mid to late Meiji period. During the Taisho and early
Showa periods the yabane was a popular woman’s kimono motif, created via
shibori, stenciling, or yuzen-dyeing. The arrow-feather motifs were most often
vertical, but sometimes created at an angle, as in this example. The Yabane pattern,
like most geometric motifs, is all-season, however, it has an auspicious
association with weddings – like an arrow shot from a bow a bride does not return
to her parents’ house. This kimono would have been very expensive to create -
the shibori work itself would have taken a few months to complete. The white
silk embroidery on the two arrow-feather motifs situated on lower left of the
kimono is very visible from a distance, and provides a tasteful change from the
other plainer motifs. The motifs are randomly scattered throughout the kimono
'canvas’, resulting in a casual relaxed atmosphere. The “speckled”
appearance of the yellow background color is an accomplished effect: many
thousands of tie-dye knots were once placed here to be able to achieve the
slightly puckered yellow dots on black background speckled look.
Neil turns away from where he’s distracted by a pint of ice cream (vodka key lime pie, probably the only flavour Wymack’s asshole of a son won’t turn his nose up at, he thinks), only to find himself approximately eye level with Andrew Minyard’s crotch. “Huh?”
“Move,” Andrew says, using the toe of his boot to nudge Neil out of his crouch and away from the freezer.
“Don’t you get enough ice cream?”
Andrew shrugs as he pulls out a few pints that look obnoxiously sweet, hesitating for a moment before also grabbing a plainer cookie dough. “Palmetto’s expensive.”
As he picks up his basket, Neil acknowledges that yeah, it’s kind of weird that Andrew is willing to drop $50 on ice cream every week. Including his tips.
“So you spend extra money buying both our ice cream and store bought?” Neil asks, mystified.
Andrew hums noncommittally. His face is flushed by the cold air of the freezer section. He looks at Neil consideringly, before finally saying, “You look like you like vanilla. Boring things.”
Neil feels a bit like he did whenever the class was talking about a reading he hadn’t done. Lost and just a bit stupid as Andrew stares at him. He isn’t sure whether he had just been insulted, but says “I guess?” anyways.
“Predictable,” Andrew mutters, turning to leave the aisle. When Neil doesn’t move, he snaps, “What are you waiting for? Hurry up.”
It takes a moment for Neil to realize that Andrew’s still talking to him. Confused, he follows Andrew all the way to the checkout (where he pays for his assortment of apples, granola bars, microwave meals, and milk) then to Andrew’s car, which is sleek and shiny and part of the reason why Neil had never really thought too hard about Andrew’s spending habits.
“You don’t drive,” Andrew states more than asks, pulling out his keys.
“I can. I just don’t have a car.” Usually Matt’s thrilled to chauffeur him around, so it doesn’t really matter. Neil’s fine with walking otherwise.
“I can give you a ride.”
Neil squints at Andrew suspiciously. As far as he knows, the extent of their interactions has been Neil serving Andrew ice cream and that one disaster of a group project. “You don’t have to.”
Andrew looks at him impatiently. “I’m not offering it for free. I got cookie dough ice cream. You eat the plain parts for me, and I’ll drive you home.”
“What’s the point of buying ice cream then?”
Sighing, as if Neil is the biggest idiot in the world, Andrew tells him, “Haagen-dazs cookie dough is worth it. Do we have a deal?”
Neil’s almost tempted to say no, to go home and turn on a game or eat an actual dinner. Then he remembers the growing stack of homework in his and Matt’s apartment, and that makes up his mind. “Yeah, sure.”
The drive to Andrew’s house is quiet, because neither Andrew nor Neil are any good at small talk. Neil keeps noticing Andrew looking at him from the corner of his eyes, and busies himself with gazing out of the window. He feels charitable enough to help Andrew pull his bags out of the trunk, and belatedly remembers that he has groceries that need to be chilled until he leaves.
“Your house is big,” Neil observes, only because he had gotten used to cramped apartments and cheap rentals.
Andrew shrugs, gesturing for Neil to dump the bags onto the counter and only bothering to put away the other pints of ice cream. “I live with my cousins and our roommate. It isn’t big enough.”
He pulls out two spoons from a drawer and breaks the seal on the cookie dough. For a moment Andrew pauses, spoon hovering over the pint, before scooping out some vanilla and unburying a chunk of dough underneath.
“Here,” he says offering the spoon to Neil.
Neil reaches out to take it, but Andrew must have something else in mind because he shoves it roughly in the direction of Neil’s mouth. It makes him go cross-eyed, and Neil only hesitates for a moment (what are the odds that this is a poisoning attempt?) before leaning in and taking the bite.
It’s sweet, which despite all of Matt’s attempts, Neil has never really gotten used to. He looks up to find Andrew staring at him, eyes focused on his mouth with a strange sort of intensity. Suddenly self-conscious, Neil licks his lips, wondering if there is something on them. The room seems to get warmer and he sees Andrew swallow heavily, his Adam’s apple bobbing, before he tears his eyes away from Neil to scoop a bite for himself.
This time when Andrew offers Neil some ice cream, he lets Neil take the spoon for himself.
This one might offend so I apologise if it does. To preface, I am autistic and therefore know very well what it is like to be an autistic child.
Twice now, we’ve had mothers complain about our food selection because “my son is autistic and he’ll only eat certain foods.” One of them yesterday suggested we should sell more “simple” foods for autistic children. Okay, yes, I understand that autistic kids are picky eaters. Like I said, I was an autistic kid once - I was a picky eater and I still am. But we literally sell the plainest foods you can imagine. We sell kids sandwiches which have just ham, or just jam, or just cheese. We sell jacket potatoes! There is nothing plainer than a potato! But apparently that’s not good enough because we don’t have chips. The amount it would cost to get the chips in and fry them and get an extra staff member in to do it is not cost effective at all. Also, like, this is a café. Cafés don’t generally sell chips. We’re also inside an attraction, so if you’re taking your picky eater son out to an attraction, maybe bring food you know he’ll like? Just a suggestion.
Also, one of my biggest pet peeves - people asking if we have food that is clearly not on the menu. “Do you have chips?” Yeah, we do, love, we just don’t list it on the menu 🙄
Possible references to ‘The Ones Who Walk away From the Omelas’ in the BTS ‘Spring Day’ teaser
Since I know a big part of you have never read ‘The Ones Who Walk away From the Omelas’ (by Ursula K. Le Guin), I wrote a small summary of things I noticed were quite directly referencing the book. All quotations are from TOWWAFTO (that’s a mouthful).
“With a clamor of bells that set the swallows soaring, the Festival of Summer came to the city Omelas, bright-towered by the sea. The ringing of the boats in harbor sparkled with flags. […] I incline to think that people from towns up and down the coast have been coming to to Omelas during the last days before the Festival on very fast little trains and double-decked trams, and that the trains station of Omelas is actually the handsomest building in town, though plainer than the magnificent Farmers’ Market.”
Setting: a beautiful town by the sea. A summer festival that people come to attend from other towns.
Sorry if you've answered something like this before, but do you have any recommendations for stim toys that are on the subtle side and can preferably be kept on the person?
It’s fine! You can always check my ask tag to see what’s been answered, but I understand if you’re not able to flip through five pages of asks (and tags are harder to access for mobile users, although I keep the tags pages linked in my user description to make it easier).
You might like to look through this previous ask for ideas, as it discusses lanyard-clipable stim toys!
In addition, if you’re in a classroom or desk office setting, some of the stationery items mentioned in this ask might be workable as stealth toys.
I’m not sure what kind of toy you might be after (chewable, fidget, etc) so I’ll list everything I know of that’s both on-the-person portable and subtle/stealth. Jewellery is like to be your best option. This is a little harder for people like me who prefer not to present in ways socially-coded as feminine, but, thankfully, most of these things don’t have strong associations with a binary gender.
Stimtastic really does have some of the best offerings for teenagers and adults after subtle/stealth stim jewellery.
(Note: how stealth these ones are depends somewhat on how eclectic you are in presentation. I can attach a bead ring or a squishy to a belt loop and have no one remark on it, but I’m the kind of person psychologists politely call “quirky”.)
(Note: I’ve found the animal prickle fidget toys in multipacks in the party sections of dollar shops and Toys R Us, $4-$4.50 AUD. I’ve also found the mini prickle balls in multipacks in the party sections of dollar shops and Big W, $3-$5 AUD.)
Chewables that are closer to stealth: Chewable Dulcimer Necklace | Chewable Trapezoid Necklace | Chewable Doughnut Necklace. (These are the smaller or plainer chewable pendants, and I assure you, I’ve seen folks wearing non-silicone versions of these. I’ve also walked around various cities, stores and markets wearing the Braid Pendant and nobody has once thought anything of it if they don’t see it in my mouth. Oversized jewellery, especially for femme-leaning folks, is pretty fashionable.)
You can also find the wrist coil/telephone cord bracelets in cheap multipacks in everydollar store - look in the hair accessory section. Also available on ebay! If you’re not the kind of person who wears bracelets, I’ve seen them as lanyard clips in many dollar shops (link to listing on Banggood).
Chubuddyand Amazon also have chewable telephone cord bracelets, if you want something unremarkable that’s chewable and a fidget.
In short, there’s a lot of options, especially jewellery-wise. However, most of these sellers are based in the US, so if you’re an international stimmer, be prepared for international shipping rates and conversion fees. While there are therapy-focused stim toy stores internationally, most of them don’t offer a lot in the way of subtlety!
Good luck. If this doesn’t help you enough, please let me know. If there’s something I should have included and didn’t, please also let me know!
Um, I would ADORE a random tumlr short of them as cousins, provided you were up for writing it. That would be AMAZING. (And, haha, I always imagined Tobio would be like Ritsu, with some psychic potential locked up that would only show itself after extreme emotional stress, but UNLIKE my boy Ritsu, Tobio doesn’t ever want powers because they might interfere with his Volleyball, which is The Most Important Thing. Though secretly!psychic Tobio WOULD be equally amazing).
Kageyama had first
mentioned that his cousin was psychic as an off-hand sort of statement that
various members of the volleyball club (Tsukishima, primarily, with Yamaguchi
snickering at the sidelines and the Third Years rolling their eyes) proceeded
to mercilessly mock him for a good hour.
“He is!” Kageyama
insists. “He can do all kinds of stuff!”
“Who knew the King of
the Court was such a gullible baby?” Tsukishima says.
“Whoa, whoa, like, what
kind of stuff?” Hinata asks. “Can he bend spoons with his mind? Or float
“Yeah, he can do all
those things,” Kageyama says.
“That is so
cool!” Hinata exclaims.
“He’s teasing, Hinata,”
Hinata looks betrayed at
his boyfriend, who declares, “I am not! Shigeo really can do all those things!
I’ve seen it!”
“Oh man, that’s some
serious stuff, Kageyama,” Tanaka says, “You shouldn’t joke around about things
“Psychics aren’t real,”
Sugawara says patiently.
“Yes, they are! And I’m
not joking!” Kageyama says. “Stop laughing, Tsukishima!”
Yachi doesn’t say
anything through the whole exchange. She doesn’t really believe in psychics but
she’d like to think it was true. Mostly, she can’t help but think that
Kageyama Tobio is not the kind of person who would pull an extended joke like
this; he’s not someone who would say, “My cousin is psychic,” without actually
believing it to be true.
But, she has to admit,
it wouldn’t be completely impossible for Kageyama to be easily tricked.
He wasn’t exactly the most discerning of people, when it came to anything other
Kageyama’s cousins changes everything. They come to practice one day,
apparently visiting Kageyama’s family, and Tsukishima starts the whole thing by
saying, “Are you the psychic cousin?”
“Shigeo is,” Kageyama
says, pointing to the young man who resembles a slightly nerdier, softer,
plainer, non-descript version of Kageyama.
“Ritsu is as well,” the
boy says, looking at his younger brother proudly.
“Oh, you developed
powers too, Ritsu? Good for you,” Kageyama says, off-hand.
“Thanks,” Ritsu says
dryly, perhaps not appreciating the casual way Kageyama said that.
psychic?” Daichi says skeptically.
“Prove it,” Tsukishima
The two brothers just
look at each other and shrug.
And then they proceed to
“Holy crap! Holy crap, Kageyama!
Can you do that?” Hinata demands.
“What? No, of course
not,” Kageyama says.
need to,” Shigeo says, the pride in his voice no less noticeable than when he
talked about his younger brother. “Tobio-nii-san is an incredibly talented
“Although there’s no
reason to assume he can’t,” Ritsu says, speculatively. “It seems to run in the
family. Have you ever tried, Tobio-nii-san?”
“Why would I?” Kageyama
“You could have superpowers!”
Yachi exclaims, wanting to shake the boy. “If you had superpowers
wouldn’t you want to know?”
“I don’t see how it’d
help me play volleyball,” Kageyama replies.
“Hmm, hmm, true,” Hinata
says, nodding his head thoughtfully, “You might even get disqualified from
playing, if you did.”
“And Tobio-nii-san is
amazing,” Shigeo continues to put forth. “He has muscles and athleticism.”
Yachi, who has neither
athleticism or psychic abilities, can’t help but feel like a Kageyama family
reunions must be a terrifying event to behold.
A/N: Hahaha, alright friend,
anon-friend, here you are! @thefancytomato was also enthusiastic about this
crossover (and so was I) so thanks!! I tried to go with both suggestions, since
I like the idea of Kageyama not being psychic but MAYBE HE COULD BE.
First time he kissed me, he but only kissed
The fingers of this hand wherewith I write;
And ever since, it grew more clean and white,
Slow to world-greetings, quick with its ‘Oh, list,’
When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst
I could not wear here, plainer to my sight,
Than that first kiss. The second passed in height
The first, and sought the forehead, and half missed,
Half falling on the hair. O beyond meed!
That was the chrism of love, which love’s own crown,
With sanctifying sweetness, did precede.
The third upon my lips was folded down
In perfect, purple state; since when, indeed,
I have been proud and said, 'My love, my own.’