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ktffansub · 4 years ago

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Bijutsu Techo: Boys Love – Interview: Yoneda Kou

This article was first published in November 17th, 2014. Translated from Japanesse to Bahasa Indonesia by kalengjelek and then translated from Bahasa Indonesia to English by KTFfansub. Source: here

When did you first encounter manga?

I was born in a family with three daughters; while my older sister likes reading Ribbon magazine, I like reading Nakayoshi. It was the era of Asagiri Yuu-sensei, when I was in elementary school. My favorite at that time were Kusunoki Kei sensei’s works and Patlabor. When it came to Shonen, I would say I was more into Shounen Sunday. I also loved Kawaraha Izumi sensei’s works. When I think about it, rather than manga that were full of passion, I’d actually prefer manga that had calm and soothing kind of vibe.

Is that so… What about BL?

When I was in Junior High, my older sister showed me Captain Tsubasa Doujinshi by Ozaki Minami and I was dumbfounded, I thought, “So, there’s also a world like this!”. After that, I started to buy BL manga. At that time, the mangaka who left the most impression to me was Nishi Keikosensei. Her works such as Mizu Ga Koori Ni Naru Toki, Tenshi Ni Naranakya have unique openings, it made me reread them many times. Uida Shiuko (now Kano Shiuko) and Yoshinaga Fumi Sensei are also my favorite mangaka.

When was the first time you draw manga?

I seriously began drawing manga in my first year of junior high. At first, I drew a pair of man and woman, but after page three, I felt something was off. So, I tried drawing BL for the next one. Just like the present, I’ve always loved less expressive and less-talkactive main characters (laughs). But the more I draw, then an attentive senpai with good personality and short haired ones like Togawa in Doushitemo Furetakunai also appeared. At that moment I thought, “Oh, this is it!”

You really weren’t embarrassed, are you? (laughs)

Well, it’s because it was embarrassing, that’s why I’m not really open about my drawing manga activity.

(laughs) But you debut as professional mangaka eventually, how did that happen?

Yes, after that… I worked as office lady. I got married not long after, but then, I was getting through a marriage blues. At that time, I was invested in Kakashi and Naruto shown by my older sister along with Comiket catalogue.

The power of moe beats out your anxiety (laughs)

It’s true (laughs). Escaping from reality, I checked a lot of circles and opened some sites. There I found a work from a novelist (now has debuted professionally) that I really liked. This is why I started writing novel at first, not drawing. I have a lot of ways to accommodate my moe needs. I also once drew Doujinshi but due to my inability to use a proper diction, the result wasn’t optimal (laughs). After drawing slowly and more at ease, I got into Katekyo Hitman Reborn fandom and drew a lot of doujinshi for that series. A year later, I was contacted by Taiyou Tosho publisher.

“With that publisher, Yoneda Kou published Doushitemo Furetakunai which has been adapted into a movie. Since the beginning, Yoneda Kou didn’t draw one-shot but serialization. For the movie, even though it only tells a story of daily lives, but the directing, composition and dialogue are impressive. About 4,5 years later, the second volume of Saezuru Tori wa Habatakanai that had the yakuza neighborhood setting was released. This has completely different feeling compared to Doushitemo Furetakunai.”

My first work was actually published in Drap, so I had it adjusted to be a less-heavy work. That’s why I ended up switching to another magazine.

Was it a demand from the editor?

Of course I only draw what I want to draw. But without realizing, I always draw them to fit the magazine. And it seems like Taiyou Tosho prefers me to draw more simple work.

So, sensei is the type who pays attention to editor’s suggestion. When you wrote the first chapter of Saezuru Tori Wa Habatakanai, did you already want Yashiro to be the main character (for longterm series)?

Right. I didn’t explain it in the first one-shot, but I always believe that no matter how you look at it, Yashiro really loved Kageyama. And (even though he’s drawn like that) he is actually a neko (uke). I think he is an interesting character. When I drew highschooler Yashiro and others, it had been decided that I wanted to write a serialization for this.

And only then the character Doumeki was born?

At that time, the character Doumeki didn’t exist, but I thought very hard about what kind of partner that would be suitable for Yashiro. I took a break from drawing for about two years. I only worked on illustration during that time, until one morning an idea suddenly came to me, “That’s right! Erectile dysfunction!”. I immediately sent an email to my editor: “A perverted impotent man!” (laughs). Afterwards, I finally worked on the first draft.

(laughs hard) Finally, the combination of Yashiro and Doumeki who are the opposite of each other was decided. What an amazing couple that can even make the readers losing sleep.

I do have this particular interest in people’s decision and behaviour resulted from a contrasting relationship that is full of conflicts. Because there are so many characters in Saezuru, I have this excel file compiling the plot for each character chronologically. Otherwise, I would’ve forgotten about it. If I didn’t seriously research (the setting of my own story), I wouldn’t be able to write anything when I made name. But even though I got through it, drawing a family with no blood ties like yakuza was still difficult. If I don’t focus, the story might turn out like Nagara Sakugyou*. That’s why now I’m just focusing on doing Saezuru.

*) nagara sakugyou: other work that being serialized at the same time

Up until now, Sensei has published 5 volumes and all of them have beautiful covers with varied tones.

Actually, the cover color for Doushitemo Furetakunai should’ve looked like red wine, but it seemed like there was an error in printing so the pink was contrasting into it. But it turned out to be good.

Then about the cover for the Saezuru first volume. It’s so impressive! The stepped-on man! All the people around me also had high appraise for this.

Actually, there were so many things happened in the process. By taking the request (it isn’t clearly explained whether it’s from editor/designer) of “Yashiro sitting alone”, I first submitted that illustration to the book designer. However, I couldn’t throw away the idea of Yashiro being stepped on, so, during the next three days I was stressed out. I’ve finally asked them to keep my idea and that’s how the cover of the first volume ended up the way it is now.

I see! For the second volume, it’s totally different, isn’t it? It’s a scenery, but when you do a double take, there are Yashiro and Doumeki!

I always want to give a different vibe in each volume. Actually I’m also a fan of the way Tsumugi Taku-sensei draws scenery.

Hoo-, sensei is a fan of Tsumugi sensei! Talking abough NIGHTS, when you open the cover, there’s a surprise in it!

Yes, if you look at the rough sketches there were 4 pages of picture that were interconnected. In the end, the desainer took picture number two as the cover and number four to put it on the bottom of the back cover. For Soredemo, I didn’t get any guide from the book designer. I combined the the feel of the story with a touch of water paint. At first, I actually wanted to make Deguchi pulling Onoda’s hand to get out of the train, but it ended up looking like Deguchi forced Onoda to stay (with him). So I decided it’s Onoda who’s getting off the train by himself with Deguchi waiting on the platform.

Do you do the coloring with computer? How about the non-colored script?

I use SAI for coloring but for monochrome I usually draw by my hand until the inking, then I do the tone using photoshop.

Do you self-learned drawing?

Well, I at least bought a lot of ‘pose reference’ books often. When it comes to buy things, it feels great, doesn’t it? But when it comes to manga, we draw to tell our moe concept.. well, I love drawing moe concept, but the thing is- I’m not really good at drawing. I like thinking about moe stuff, I also like to combine colors (inside my head) but when I do, I have no desire to draw I, even though that’s the important part. There are often times when I feel like drawing is a handful. In short, I want to draw something that isn’t too troublesome.

But, isnt it because you’re doing manga seriously that it feels difficult?

Because I’m too serious I feel like the story can be boring. Not only the work but also the author (laughs). I often read comments saying my manga is ‘down to earth’. I guess it’s shown obviously in every each of my works

Sure, there are people who think like, “In real world, there’s no way a wakagashira can be as masochist as Yashiro”, but apart from that, Saezuru still gives an impression of it being realistic. In drawing the important men’s arms and muscles in your work, sensei has done your best. Getting into the story, the characters also put extra effort to look elegant. Despite the young age, in a positive sense, sensei’s works feels like having Showa* vibe.

(*SHOWA ERA: 1926~1989)

I’m no longer young, though (laughs). Maybe this is why my works often get called “JUNE”. Especially Saezuru, I think it really fits (JUNE concept).

Are you an organized person?

I’m actually a person who have no chill (laughs). But I have this side of myself who tend to see things as a whole, look at my surrounding then step on the brake. There is also a side of me that is so energetic in creating my own moe that I turn into a selfish person. I guess that’s also my flaw.

It seems like sensei is the type who has her own editorial meeting inside her head (laughs)

I wish it’s not true, but unfortunately, I’m the type of person who is embarrased to admit that I have a relationship with manga. Even until now I have yet told my close friends about this job (as BL mangaka). I’m not that kind of person who like to share or tell others about my moe situation inside my head. When my moe concept is being visualized in public I would scream, “Don’t look! But if you want to read it, I’d be happy”. Yes, I’m that kind of person.

I wonder if sensei’s works are the manifestation of sensei’s own self-contradictions..

#saezuru #doumeki #saezuru tori wa habatakanai #yashiro #yoneda kou #interview

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contreparry · 3 years ago

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Hey Contre! Happy Friday! "A rooftop escape to avoid an enemy at the front door." :)

I took a bit of a light-hearted approach to this one! Here’s some pre-fenders modern!Thedas roommates AU for @dadrunkwriting !

The problem with being friends with Marian Hawke was that she roped everyone into her schemes. Nice schemes, she insisted, schemes that were meant to make the world a better place and cheer people up. But sometimes those schemes involved doing some less than legal actions, all for the sake of the end goal. Not that Anders had a problem with breaking the law- laws weren’t just or moral simply because it was the law. Laws were simply rules written in a book, and they were enforced by people, who weren’t always morally correct or just. So when Hawke asked if he could break into her baby brother’s apartment and decorate it for his long anticipated return to Kirkwall, Anders agreed.

He hadn’t realized that Hawke also asked Fenris to come along.

“It makes sense,” Fenris said as he wrapped a bright blue streamer around a floor lamp, his clever hands twisting the paper with a skill Anders envied. “We live together, and someone needed to get this ready for when Carver comes home. Everyone else is either busy helping with something else or can’t make it over here to clean and set up. And two sets of hands are better than one, so...” he shrugged then, clear satisfied with his conclusion, and Anders wished that Fenris weren’t so direct, that he didn’t break down everything into pure logic and practicality every single damn time, because it made arguing with him seem petty and pointless. What an asshole!

“You could’ve gone with Isabela and Marian, helped them pick up Carver from the airport,” Anders retorted as he bagged up a bunch of empty beer bottles for recycling. Maker’s Balls, Carver lived in a fraternity brother’s pigsty! Had no one thought to come in and clean before this?! Perhaps his standards were a little high, but Andraste’s Tits there was grease an inch deep caked on the stovetop! Some things were simply intolerable! So maybe Fenris’ assistance was warranted, but Anders would never admit it.

“And ride bitch while the two of them make cow eyes at each other? No thank you,” Fenris said, then exhaled sharply. “Fasta Vass!”

“What?”

“Paper cut,” Fenris grumbled.

“Let me see,” Anders ordered. Fenris brought his hands close to his chest and scowled at him.

“It’s fine,” he insisted. He twisted away when Anders approached. Anders was used to difficult patients, though, and quickly snatched Fenris’ hand and pulled them towards the sunlight streaming in from the balcony door.

“Fenris, let me see,” Anders sighed as he took Fenris’ hand and inspected his fingers. A thick drop of bright red blood welled up between Fenris’ thumb and index finger. Anders fished inside the his skirt pocket and pulled out an antiseptic wipe packet before tearing it open with his teeth.

“Bandage or healing?” he asked as he wiped the blood off. He was a little surprised Fenris was allowing this much. Must have caught him in one of his good moods. Anders took extra care to be gentle and to telegraph every move he made just so Fenris wouldn’t tear his hand away and make a run for it.

“Bandage,” Fenris automatically replied.

“Plain or cartoons? I have The Littlest Mabari ones, very popular with the kids,” Anders teased.

“Ass,” Fenris snorted, which Anders was going to count as a laugh. “Mabari.”

“Good choice,” Anders agreed, already dabbing the cut with antiseptic. He selected one of the mabari bandages (it had a mabari puppy with a big red ball on it, which was one of the more sought after bandages in his experience). The flashy yellow bandage was oddly fitting on Fenris, the one splash of color in his otherwise monochrome outfit.

“Thank you,” Fenris murmured as he examined Anders’ handiwork. Maybe he was even admiring it. Who knew when it came to Fenris, right? Whatever the case, it was a small emergency settled.

“Not a problem. Ah, back to work? Lots to do before-”

There was a knock at the door.

“Can’t be them. Carver’s not landing in another hour,” Anders whispered. Another knock at the door, and then-

“I know you’re in there, Carver, I can hear you,” a man sighed, and Anders winced. He was pretty sure he recognized that voice, and if it was who he thought it was... he didn’t even hesitate. He grabbed Fenris’ wrist, opened the balcony door, and raced outside onto the balcony.

“Up up up up!” he whispered frantically, urging Fenris up the fire escape and to the roof. Fenris, for his part, didn’t protest or ask what had gotten into Anders. He simply raced up the fire escape, taking the narrow metal steps two at a time, Anders close behind. When they finally reached the roof Anders peered over the edge of the building to spy on the balcony below.

“Now that we are out of immediate danger, what was that?” Fenris asked, sounding completely in control. Anders, on the other hand, felt awful. His heart was racing, he couldn’t catch his breath, his hands were shaking like leaves in the autumn wind-

“I- I- wooooof, give me a moment,” Anders panted. Maybe he should take up cardio, build some stamina. Fenris had all sorts of exercise equipment strewn about their place, so maybe he could give him some pointers. Repayment for Anders tending to his grievous injury (shut up, it was grievous, there was blood!).

“Take your time. You can explain it all to Hawke later,” Fenris said. Anders rolled his eyes but did as Fenris suggested. He took his time, caught his breath, and tried to think of what to say that didn’t boil down to ‘I panicked, okay?!’

“I think that was my ex at the door. Uh, ex-coworker. And ex-boyfriend? It’s complicated,” he confessed.

“Ah. And I thought it was the landlord coming in to turn on the heat or something,” Fenris replied blandly, as if he didn’t give a shit. Yet there was something in his expression that made Anders think he was a lot more curious than he was letting on, so as he watched the balcony he hastily whispered a small fraction of his life story.

“Nate’s a good man, really. Great guy, good friend, damn good in bed-”

“Information I did not need to know, Anders,” Fenris grumbled.

“Whatever. In any case, we got along swimmingly. Maybe a little too well? Justice was pissed when he realized we were, uh, shitting where we eat, as it were,” Anders explained. Justice might be old-fashioned and overly-proper, but he made a good point about fucking your coworkers- it wasn’t to be taken lightly, and he and Nathaniel Howe just... maybe they were a little too hasty. Nate took things so seriously, felt so deeply, and Anders was...

“Look. I was in it for a fun time, not a long time, and Nate’s a good man who was in for the long haul. Our lifestyles didn’t match up, you see, so we broke it off and now it’s going to be awkward between us for a while. Part of the reason why I transferred to Kirkwall, actually. Don’t know why he’s here, though,” Anders added, and he watched as a head poked out of the door, scanned the balcony, and retreated back into Carver’s apartment. Yep, definitely Nathaniel Howe. He’d recognize that hair and nose anywhere.

“Well, thank you for keeping me out of your relationship woes,” Fenris finally said. It sounded sarcastic. At least, Anders was fairly certain it was sarcastic, but he was never quite sure what Fenris really meant when he said anything. He was just... baffling. Shame that he was so damn pretty. Anders’ enormous crush on him died as soon as he opened his mouth, but Fenris was a beautiful man. Even though he was a bit of a dick.

“Thanks for the sympathy,” Anders muttered. “Don’t mention this to Hawke, okay? She’ll start trying to set me up with some nice lads and lasses and I just- I’m a little too busy to deal with relationships right now.” Busy and still nursing hurt feelings and being stuck in the same city where his first Great Love lived and... it was just a lot.

“I’ll take it to the grave,” Fenris said, and he offered his hand out to Anders. The yellow mabari bandage smiled up at him, forever chasing that big red ball. Anders took Fenris’ hand and shook it. He had a nice handshake. Firm, but not a tight grip. His hand was warm.

“Thanks. Back downstairs, then?” Anders asked as he let go of Fenris’ hand.

“Sure. I’ll go first, let you know if your friend is gone,” Fenris promised, and he took the stairs down, once again taking two stairs at a time. Anders sat down behind the lip of the building and stared up at the pale blue sky.

Maybe spending the day with Fenris wasn’t so bad after all.

#Modern!Thedas Roommates AU #da drunk writing circle #my writing #this one is a little silly but I had fun writing these two and their dynamic!

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illegiblewords · 3 years ago

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A collection of female au ra designs playing with both facial structure and color palette!

I decided to specifically try monochrome as well as complementary colors through this. From left to right, starting at the top:

- This face default seems to normally be the “cute” one, so I wanted to go for a somewhat eerie look instead. Smaller eyes, thin lips, no gloss, as pale as I could manage to get some of the sin-eater aesthetic.

- This specific face uses what I think is my personal favorite structure for the curled horns. On a more natural-coloring model it looks like this:

To me, the curled horn facial structure often looks unusually sharp compared to every other face option for female characters in FFXIV. It’s at a point where it can even get a little stylistically confusing to me on occasion. So when I use the curled horns, part of my approach involves softening the features a bit. Otherwise though, I went with a dark monochrome counterpart to the sin-eater au ra since I don’t see that visual as much and was intrigued. I probably should make a proper voidsent one too.

- Another curled-horn au ra, this one I tried playing into certain mystic color palettes I’ve seen with purple and gold, as well as letting the cream color of scales/horns serve as an accent. The eyes I took in the spirit of the sun specifically given the role of Azem. I wanted the purple and gold to both be very rich.

- Blue and orange are tricky to pull off as a combination imo for female au ra in that the skin color saturation tends to be a bit lower/cooler at points. So in this case, I went with a more orange skin tone that took some inspiration from both tans I’ve seen on people as well as tropical aesthetics of the beach, then bringing in a lot of vibrancy and contrast with the hair. The cheek scales wound up being a really fun surprise as an accent in that as I was playing with contours within the face, I realized the thick bottom lashes created a pretty crescent shape that could be mirrored smoothly in the cheek scales. Sometimes cheek scales can look accidental to me, but because there was a visual reference in the lashes as well as the scales being a little lighter than the skin--the result reminds me somewhat of sea foam.

- Red and green can look very Christmas if the proportions aren’t controlled, so when I utilized the scheme in-general I tried to tie closely to plants for inspiration instead. For this Raen, I was inspired by both roses and lotus flowers. I also used the lashes selectively to create a different contour around the eyes, and the aquiline nose because I see it infrequently + it added some cohesion here imo.

- This purple/gold Xaela’s facial structure and makeup remind me a little bit of a cousin of mine haha. I took inspiration from pretty tans and makeups while building the golden hues up, and with the hair/eyes I tried to make the purple as vibrant as I could since the skin was more pastel. Everything wound up meshing much more than I expected, and she reminds me of flowers like this:

- I knew the blue/orange Xaela using predominantly blue skin tone would be difficult honestly. The only way to build saturation is with darkness in this case, which 1) I’d done already and 2) wouldn’t necessarily create a clear visual tone. Orange irises just sort of clashed without bringing anything to the table, so I decided to have skin, hair, and irises all build the blues up as much as I could so the orange would be a more subtle pop in the makeup. I don’t know that I incorporated the dark blue of the horns as well as I’d like but they do reference the lashes/pupils a bit.

- This red and green Xaela was heavily inspired by strawberries and watermelons visually! I wanted her to carry the vibrancy and summer-feeling of fruit haha, so all the design choices built into that. I think she’d be very cute in some of the glamour options in-game!

#au ra #raen #xaela #Final Fantasy XIV #Final Fantasy 14 #ffxiv #ff14

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rosedavid · 4 years ago

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"Wearing clothes in their favorite color." for david/patrick!

thank you so much for the prompt!! i’m sorry it took so long!!! hope you enjoy it :)

Title: How I Missed You

Word Count: 1,368

Warnings: Implied Sexual Content

AO3 Link

David presses Patrick against the wall outside of Patrick’s apartment, and their lips meet so forcefully that their teeth clank together a bit. That doesn’t deter either of them, though. Patrick merely tilts his head to readjust their position, arms tightening around David’s waist as they continue to kiss.

It’s been a whole week that Patrick has been away at his business conference. While Patrick thought it was a good idea at the time as a way to continue to improve their business model and revenue for Rose Apothecary, he completely underestimated how difficult it would be to go without being with David for that long. The first few days weren’t terrible, although Patrick constantly found himself turning to his side, as if to quip something to David, only to remember David was back in Schitt’s Creek. Still, he survived the first few days, busy with the beginnings of the conference.

After the first few days passed, Patrick discovered that he never knew he could miss someone so much. Every thought seemed to be geared toward David, and his mind wandered toward David even when he was supposed to be paying attention to a presentation. Of course they texted and talked on the phone, but that’s nothing compared to the real thing, the feeling of David wrapped around him like in that moment. Patrick secretly hoped that David yearned for him just as much during their time apart, and based on the way David came out from his apartment and pounced on him, he would say David missed him, too.

Patrick’s tongue slides into David’s mouth. The kiss is warm and wet and sloppy. Patrick’s lungs hurt from the lack of oxygen, but he keeps kissing David for as long as he possibly can until they’re forced to pull back for more air, both panting heavily, foreheads pressed together. David whines, nose nudging against Patrick’s cheek.

“Missed you,” David sighs, bringing him in for a few more, short kisses.

“Mmmh, missed you, too,” Patrick murmurs. “Missed you so much.”

They fumble their way back into the apartment, still attached as much as possible. Patrick smiles softly as he sees David’s stuff throughout his apartment, stuff that wasn’t there when Patrick left. It’s a real testament to how much David missed him if he stayed at Patrick’s apartment even when Patrick wasn’t there.

They gravitate toward the sofa. David sits on the armrest, while Patrick finds his way between David’s legs and leans down slightly to meet his lips again. David worms his arms up and around Patrick’s neck, Patrick’s hand on his thighs. Every point of contact sends a rush of passion and adoration through Patrick. David’s hands comb through his hair, while Patrick breaks his lips apart from David’s to press kisses down his jaw to his pulse point. David moans breathily in his ear.

Tired of leaning over, Patrick maneuvers them both onto the couch, where they are almost sitting in each other’s laps.

“Too many clothes,” David groans, tugging at the zipper on Patrick’s jacket while simultaneously kissing Patrick.

So caught up in the moment, Patrick momentarily forgets about what he’s actually wearing until it’s too late. With the jacket shrugged off, David’s hands make his way back around Patrick, fingers clenching into the very soft fabric. That’s when David freezes, lips turned into a confused pout as he pulls away from their kiss.

“David,” Patrick complains, chasing after his lips.

“Uh, Patrick, what is this?” David asks, voice high as he fingers the plush fabric.

And suddenly, Patrick remembers the sweater. Actually, the multiple sweaters that he bought while he was at his conference. He was missing David especially one night, wandering around the bigger town when he saw an upscale fashion boutique that David might deem slightly less horrendous than the usual clothing options in a small town. Patrick had ventured in there, gaze immediately drawn to the collection of soft, slightly pricey sweaters. Patrick knew David would never be seen in one of them, but the monochrome aesthetic reminded him so much of his boyfriend that Patrick ended up trying on and buying three sweaters in varying shades of black and white, softer and fancier than anything he’s ever owned.

The sweater that Patrick currently has on is the black, fuzzy one that is just the slightest bit too long on the sleeves but fits the rest of him perfectly. David holds Patrick back by the shoulders as he glances over the sweater, mouth parted slightly, and brows furrowed.

“It’s a sweater,” Patrick replies.

David glares at him. “Okay, but this sweater is actually half-way decent? I mean, it’s no Givenchy, but it’s made of nice fabric and it fits you well, and it’s not Brewer blue.”

“Brewer blue?”

“Yes, Brewer blue! Because you always wear that same shade of blue button-downs, besides for like two other shirts. But black? You never wear black! And you never wear sweaters! So this has to be new.”

Patrick chuckles. “I bought the sweaters in the town at my conference one day. I just thought they looked nice.”

“Sweaters, as in multiple?! You bought more than one?” David asks, looking around.

“They’re in my suitcase, and I’m sure I’ll be forced to show you them later.”

David cocks his head. “I’m very confused. Why would you buy these? Not that you don’t look dashing in that sweater, but the whole monochrome sweater is more my look.”

“I—” Patrick starts, but stops because it’s kind of embarrassing to admit that he bought the sweaters just because he thought David would like them on him since they matched with David’s own style. Patrick’s lack of speech obviously alerts David, who smirks at him.

“Wait…did you buy these because of me?”

Patrick flushes, cheeks and ears hot. He doesn’t want David to laugh at him, so he tries to focus his gaze elsewhere while also scooting further apart.

“Sweetheart, stay here,” David coos, wrapping an arm around Patrick’s shoulder and tugging him into his side. “Don’t worry, I think it’s cute.”

From where his head buries into David’s collarbone, Patrick mutters, “You do? It’s not cheesy?”

“Oh, no it’s really cheesy, but also really cute. I’ve never had someone miss me enough to buy something just because it reminded them of me.”

Patrick brings himself to lift his face up out of David’s collar to meet his eyes. “What would you say if I told you that these sweaters were actually for you to wear.”

A series of very amusing emotions flit over David’s face. “Hmm, well, I mean, I would be very flattered, and these sweaters are nicer than what you would find in Schitt’s Creek, but these are obviously still machine washable and the stitching is very sloppy and coming apart in a few places—”

“Don’t worry, David, they’re for me,” Patrick interrupts, smiling cheekily.

“Well, in that case, I like them very, very much,” David says, shimmying his shoulders as he eyes Patrick again. “But you know that you don’t have to wear these for me.”

“You’d be okay with me wearing blue-button ups for the rest of my life?”

And much to Patrick’s surprise, David responds, “As incorrect as most of your fashion is, it’s also yours. I couldn’t imagine you not wearing them, at this point.”

“Aww, David, you like my button-ups!”

“Okay, well, like is a very strong word—”

Patrick laughs, unable to help himself any longer as he cups David’s jaw and pulls him in for another searing kiss. He feels their identical smiles as their lips press together.

David pulls away again. “That being said, if you choose to wear those sweaters some days, I would not be opposed…”

“Oh? You want me to keep the sweater on right now, then?” Patrick teases, fingers inching up David’s leg.

David shakes his head back and forth vigorously. “Nope, nope, we can revisit the sweater later.”

“Are you sure? It’s actually really soft. I might just chill here for a bit—”

“Patrick, if you don’t take that sweater off right now, there’s no way you’ll be able to wear it again.”

#schitts creek #schitt's creek #schitts creek fanfic #david x patrick #brewerrose #schitts creek fanfiction #schitt's creek fanfic #fanfiction

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st-just · 4 years ago

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Some writing from a game

Because I’m like..60% happy with it and I feel like it should have a potential audience of, like, at least a dozen people.

(Also, if you look very closely you might be able to see the influence of the last couple things I read)

The palace of the Melquart was as poorly defended as she had been promised – the nephilim garrison were either dead or damned, depending on the rumour you believed, and either way far away in the old capital. The local troops were mostly gone as well, sent to suppress a rebellion among the hill tribes – by the time they realized the reports and requests for aid were forgeries, it would be far too late. Even the guards which remains wouldn’t prove much use, their evening meal having been liberally spiced with sedatives to leave them slow-witted and sluggish. Everything was, in short, exactly how Itireae ir’Naeh had been promised it would been, carefully arranged to ensure the once-princesses homecoming would be as smooth and frictionless as possible. Not that she looked much like a princess anymore, of course – months of exile in the badlands had taken their toll, even before the injections of quicksilver and adamant had left her with monochrome eyes and sickly blue veins pressing against her skin. Still, she would gladly make every sacrifice and compromise over again, if it brought her here. After all, what good was a child who wouldn’t do what was necessary to avenge their father? With her new sight, the iron frame of the palace’s upper windows shone in the pre-dawn light, and it was a simple matter of will pull herself towards them – by now the pulsing, burning pain from her veins was almost a comfort, as she gracefully flew through the night to alight on the windowsill. It hung open in the warm fall air, and it was barely any effort to pull herself inside. She moved fast. Even if she couldn’t see the golden treasures piled high in the Melquart’s bedroom, she knew her way their by heart. She passed five guards on her way, and four four didn’t break her stride – a handful of iron needles pulled from one of the pounces hanging off her belt and pushed with more force then an a longbow towards each made sure they never got up. The last was someone important – a royal bodyguard or captain, sleeping on a bed in the antechamber to the Malequart’s apartments. He she recognized – he had just as happy to have a place of honour at her fathers side, before the giants called down fire from the sky and massacred his entire host. And so she paused and drew her glass daggers, and took the time to make sure he recognized her before she let him die. The Melquart was a Lumor, god-blooded, close to three yards tall, with flowing, braided crimson hair and a matching beard which grew fiery in truth when he was enraged – as he was now, charging through the door of his apartments in nothing but a robe, sacred and deadly bronze axe held in both hands, to find his bodyguard bleeding out before him. Which nicely distracted him as Itireae sent the first barrage of iron needles and blades flying towards him from her perch on the ceiling. His roar as the blades dug into his back and spilled his sacred blood was so loud it was almost painful to hear. But then, she wasn’t the intended audience – and his divine grandfather seemed to understand perfectly. The room filled with a wrathful and ruddy light, and Itireae had to leap to the floor to avoid the blast of divine fire the lumor threw from his hands, letting out a gasp of pain at her awkward landing on the stone floor. The holy runes etched on the Melquart’s axe glowed with an angry red light as he approached her, nothing but pure, deadly rage in his words. “I don’t know what you are, but if you start begging now I’ll just cut you down. Keep fighting, and you’re going to suffer. Burning slow so all the other humans know the penalty for striking the blood of the Sun.” Whatever reaction he expected, Itireae’s unsteady laughter wasn’t it. Her hands trembled as she spoke, grabbing a thankfully unbroken vial off her belt. “Me? I’m no-one, not after tonight. Just one more debt you monsters never bothered to settle.” She poured the vial down her throat, and tried to ignore her body screaming in protest as she started burning its contents before they were metabolized. A thin trail of black, acrid smoke leaked from her mouth, as her veins began to glow an unearthly blue. And the Melquart, axe raised for a killing blow, staggered and gasped in pain. Her fingers were bloody, gripping the seams between stones on the floor to keep from being slammed into his chest – but it worked. His fire went out as the light faded from his eyes, the blades buried in his back pulled through his heart and lungs until they pierced the skin of his chest as well. She made sure, of course – used her glass daggers to cut his throat and put out his eyes, and open every major vein and artery. And then, satisfied, she set to work cleaning up after herself. It was close to noon when she finally limped to their meeting place, lightly scorched from divine flame and throat too raw to speak from rushed alchemy. Still, her patron was waiting for her, wearing the face of the well-fed caravan driver she had travelled here with – though that disguise was beginning to crack, every hair already a pristine white and eyes faintly glowing, color starting to fade from their outfit. Turning to her with a slight smile and a nod, they said “Given the fire at the palace, I trust you have settled your personal affairs?” At her nod she gestured to the horses “Then we should be going. You have a higher purpose now, and the journey will give you time to consider a suitable new name.” They made good time on the trip south, as behind them the last vestige of Phanosine rule in the far east collapsed into succession struggle and anarchy. ----------------------------------------------- Tymon Sol managed to survive in the forest on his own for nearly two weeks. As soon as the strange, massive ships had been sighted and the chief and captains ordered their men to assemble, he’d heard the whispers of ruin and disaster on the wind. By the time the strange, green-coated soldiers had arrived and demanded unconditional surrender, her had already donned his mother’s mask and cloak, and taken everything he could carry. By the time the first cannon fired, he was so far away he could barely hear them. He had found an ancient tree, and made a camp beneath its canopy, hiding it from man and beast, rain and wind, anything the flew or crawled or bit or stung. Since then he had almost never taken off the cloak or mask – hiding him from anything but the spirits, and letting him see their guidance to the food and water he needed. All of which was to say, he had finally begun to feel safe. And so he was not at all prepared when something was waiting for him. It was dressed like an officer of the soldiers who had invaded his village, though its uniform was decorated with gold brocade and some sort of extra decoration. And otherwise totally devoid of color – snow white hair, pale skin, and clothing that remained pristinely and perfectly white even as it stood in the mud and leaned against his tree. Its eyes glowed faintly with a cold light, and when he looked at it he saw all the spirits who had protected his camp had shied away from touching it. It, meanwhile, looked down at a pocketwatch in its hand with apparent fascination. Either unable to perceive Tymon beneath his cloak or unconcerned with his presence as he stared and froze in panic. After a long, terrifying minute the watch let out a chime and it spoke in a soft, pleasant voice. “You are quite difficult to find, ghost-child. Before your spirits gaze I swear not to harm you, but I hope you will not force me through this effort again.” Trying to remain calm, he circled around it, trying to see if there were any other soldiers. Eventually, satisfied to find no footprints or hidden men, he responded, speaking from the mouth of a bird perched above her. “What do you want, then? You’re one of them, aren’t you? The soldiers who destroyed my home?” It sounded genuinely sorrowful as it replied. “That should not have happened. My peer was here as a mercenary, a role which does not agree with them. They were needlessly harsh, in the interests of haste, and the marines followed their example as well as their commands.” “Then, what, you’re here to say you’re sorry? Offer to build me a new house? I swear I won’t accept an-” “Please listen before you speak rashly child. I am not here to offer empty words or simple blood money. Might you here my offer, before you reject it? If you do, then I will accept your answer, should you desire, leave you be.” “...alright, fine. Talk.” “Your family is fascinating. Five generations of power and worth carefully gathered, every action judged, the petty gods of nature whispering in your ear, whatever life you wished to have forgotten under the duty you inherit. It’s a great burden, for someone so young. And it will not grow any easier – the island’s new princes are brutes, liars and cheats. You could resist them, and see your family suffer, or serve them, and forsake every fragment of purpose within you.” “My family? Who do you mean? Have you done anything to them?” It smiled, slightly. “Yes. One hundred thirty-eight potential heirs, although beyond the first dozen they are wholly unprepared and would despoil your inheritance quite quickly. And absolutely nothing, beyond identifying them. I would like to help them, offer them new lives with warm homes, food and medicine, and the assurance that they will never have to worry about being hunted down. But for that, you will have to come with me first. You will do good on a grander scale, and in return none of them will ever want for safety or comfort. Would you not at least consider the deal?” It paused then, waiting for a response. Tymon didn’t have one. After a silent eternity, it closed the pocket watch and gave a slight shrug. “I will return at this time tomorrow. I hope you will be here.” It walked out of the tree’s canopy and stood in the sunlight, took a deep breath and looked directly at the sun. And then it was gone. Tymon spent the next day and night performing every augury who could think of – it had never been a talent of his, truthfully. But the answers were all resoundingly clear. When the soldier in white returned the next day, he was waiting for it. -------------------------------------------------------- Three months latter, and the people who had once been Itireae and Tymon were ready. The ritual was not exactly difficult – it did not take a great deal of power, and could theoretically be performed anywhere. But it was exceedingly intricate and precise. Hira stood before the two kneeling inductees, both dressed in the dull grey robe and bright red fez of a Janissary without official rank. The room they stood in had, minutes before, been almost claustrophobic. But as the seven layers of exactingly drawn circles on the floor began to glow and turn in time with some grand cosmic clockwork, the walls and ceiling faded away. They were outside, and the night sky was bright and full of stars – though the constellations were foreign to them, and the light cold and alien. “Do you forsake inheritance and legacy, kith and kin, family and tribe? Do you forswear all covenants you have made, and revile all those who would demand your loyalty by love or affection?” The two answered at once “I do.” “Do you pledge yourselves to the service of Principle, to the creation of a rational and compassionate world, and the interests of the Esheri Republic, selflessly and without expectation of or right to comfort, safety or power?” “I do.” “Do you accept your role as the agents of history, and that you will be called to use and expend yourselves as necessity requires, without regard for you own selfish wants or particular affections, and will die and be forgotten with no memorial but the world you will help create?” Again they replied “I do”. As they did, the alien starlight seemed to solidly around them, pouring down their throats as they spoke, marking them indelibly. Hira smiled widely, opening her arms in welcome as she spoke “Then rise, Avra and Erem, and join us in engineering paradise.”

#writing #total war #this is theoretically a writing blog

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mlpdestinyverse · 4 years ago

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“One November Eve”

One stormy eve, when Dream Flow mysteriously doesn't show for their meet up, Skychaser heads to his friend's home to find out what's keeping her. What he discovers isn't quite what he expected.

Feat. Skychaser, Dreamaria Flow

Related Chapters: Little Monster, Newcomer, Impasse

~Destinyverse Archive~

Skychaser isn't usually one to fuss when it comes to Dream Flow's occasional tendency to arrive late to their hangouts.

He's long accepted it as an on-and-off habit of hers, oversleeping or losing track of time. It's not like they've ever been in a rush, so it's never truly bothered him. Besides, it's easy to imagine her getting caught up in a busy, tiring schedule as an Emotion Counselor.

The latest he can remember her ever arriving was about thirty minutes past their designated time, and even then she came to him apologizing profusely before insisting on treating him to make up for the tardiness. He can tell that she's since made a more conscious effort to be more punctual, despite his assurance that he really doesn't mind.

An hour and twenty-two minutes late...now that's just plain out of character.

It's nearing 6 PM now, and it won't be long before they'll have to officially reschedule their sauna day for another time. Sky is still sitting at a cafe table, tapping his hoof against the wooden surface, the vibrations causing his long empty cup of mint chocolate chip ice cream to shake.

He'd been looking forward to relaxing within the embrace of hot steam on a chilly autumn day. More so than that was his eagerness to behold Dream's first heavenly sauna experience, as a mare who apparently had never even known of their existence until a week ago. She had mirrored his excitement, giving him a date where she'd be completely free. But that's all quickly becoming rather trivial compared to his growing bewilderment.

'Did she go on a last-minute errand run?? What is going on?'

It's only when a large droplet of rain nearly jabs his eye that he knows that the fall thunderstorm Ponyville ordered for the sake of building atmosphere towards Nightmare Night has begun. And it's at that moment that Sky knows he has a time limit before the rain starts pouring. So with a frown, he swiftly makes his way to a new location...

By the time he's in front of the door to Dream's house, the boughs of leafless trees have begun groaning and Sky's thick mane might as well be mauling his face, thanks to the whipping winds. Honestly, if it wasn't for the sheer absurdity that was the concept of being "stood up" by Dream of all ponies, he would have thought to arrive sooner to check on his friend. But looking at the house, the windows are completely absent of any light, and that becomes even more prominent with the darkening grey sky above him as the sun dips away and the clouds prepare to-

-drench him. Just...all at once. A waterfall-like sheet of rain crashes onto him, and he hisses a curse as he instinctively tries for the doorknob, despite knowing it won't open.

Except it does, and Skychaser has to blink a few times at that.

'Guess she went out and...forgot to lock it behind her...?'

A flash of lightning and Sky all but scrambles inside and shuts the door before the accompanying boom of thunder can deafen him.

As he enters the threshold, and his eyes adjust to the brief lightning flash followed by the interior darkness, he almost swears a separate faint light catches the edge of his vision. But it's gone before he can fully acknowledge it, and it leaves his mind as soon as he winces at the booming thunderclap.

"Hokay then..." Sky mutters. He shrugs off his hoodie and hangs it on the nearby coat rack. Having visited Dream's house numerous times before, finding and flicking on the closest light switch isn't too difficult. The warm lighting reveals the large, decently furnished living room he's grown quite accustomed to, as a place to spend time with his friend as well as a safe space for a few of their counseling sessions together: television and couch set up to the left, first-floor bathroom to the right, her open kitchen towards the very back, next to the polished curving staircase... "Wait for Dreamers it is..."

At least, he hopes Dream isn't still trying to make it to their sauna day. Once she realizes he's not at their meeting spot, she'll either look for him at the Cutie Mark Sanctuary if only to frantically apologize like the sweet doof she is, or she'll make the better call and head back home in this weather.

Unless she's forgotten their plans entirely. Then well...at the very least, she'll absolutely return straight home and they'll figure it out from there.

'Unless...an emergency...?'

Sky vigorously shakes the worrisome thought out of his head, only to flinch and curse again when water droplets fly everywhere and cling to the nearby wall. This isn't the time to go into Anxious-Brother-Mode™ when he should be hunting down a towel unless he wants to create a puddle in the middle of Dream's living roo- oh, a puddle's already forming, goddammit.

He carefully maneuvers himself towards Dream's towel closet on the right-most wall, right beside her bathroom door. But he sighs and gives up midway on tip-toeing when he realizes he's leaving a trail of rainwater anyway, making a faster beeline for it. Without pause he yanks it open and pulls out a fluffy towel with cute little sea motifs, aggressively drying his cursed sponge-like mop of hair; the true perpetrator of the puddles...a symbol of freedom and majesty now fallen from grace. For shame.

He sighs with relief once he feels sufficiently...less wet, albeit his feathers are sticking in almost every direction and his inner pegasus shrieks at him to preen- which, speaking of, is it weird to preen in your friend's house when they're not there?

Shower Thoughts with Skychaser.

Sky lets the towel hang around his neck and grins to himself over his dumb mental joke- but upon closing the closet door fully, something he hadn't noticed before immediately greets him.

A single orange sticky note, attached to the door at eye level.

He's genuinely confused at first, but once his eyes flit over the words written on it in black marker, he near-instantly recalls the counseling session he'd shared with Dream not even a month ago. In this very living room, funnily enough:

"Sticky Note Affirmations" she had called it, suggesting it to him like many other forms of therapy they've given a go through the course of their friendship. He remembers her explaining it as a method of using positive affirmations in one's daily life, to "move the mind away from persistent negative thoughts" and "set in a more positive way of thinking".

"Positivity takes practice!" he can practically still hear the confidence in Dreamaria's voice from that day, her beaming face forming in his mind. "We may be our own worst critic, Sky, but we're also the one person in life who can be our most faithful supporter. So try cheering your future self on!"

It sounded a little silly at first, the idea of sticking notes around his room and expecting them to do anything. Dream Flow did say the results varied for everyone.

Now, Sky has a small collection of post-it notes that have given him just the slightest boost needed to help deviate that self-deprecating corner of his mind; more often than not, at least. Who knew that reading something as simple as "I Am Worthy" on his bedroom door every morning could make a difference in his outlook for the day? He sure didn't.

But maybe Dream being the source of the idea made her feel a little present within each of his notes, believing in him just as much as he was encouraging himself.

Dream specifically offered the idea of writing down kind compliments for himself. There were also reminders and encouragements for daily tasks, saved for the heavier days where such chores often felt impossible or pointless. Now one particular note near his comb encourages him to brush his mane each day because otherwise, he'll deal with knots that resemble a pile of tangled earbud cords - or worst...Astral Dusk's spikes - and risk shaving it all off in frustration (Monochrome would have a field day).

Anyway, that aside, the note on Dream's towel closet reminds him of that sort of encouragement:

"Because a hot shower organizes thoughts and helps warm the soul!" it motivates, in curvy writing that he definitely recognizes as Dream's.

It shouldn't be a surprise that Dreamaria would practice her own suggestions, maybe to test the effectiveness for herself; but at the same time, how effective could testing it be? In his friend's case it felt hilariously redundant, like a mere flashlight's beam merging in with an already blinding sunray of optimism. Or...something. He's not as poetic with words and comparisons as Eventide.

Point is, the living embodiment of positivity just setting up more positive inspiration for her "future self" is incredibly funny to him and wholesomely endearing.

Skychaser backs his way into the middle of her living room, bumping up near Dream's couch there, and gives the room a good squint - and to his delight, his eye catches the pastel colors of more sticky notes dotting the mare's kitchen.

Well, at least he has something to distract himself with while he waits on Dream Flow. And if there's anypony he'd love to read some encouraging wisdom from, it'd have to be the counselor herself.

So he starts at one end and slowly saunters through her kitchen space, from one note to the next, feeling his grin and amusement growing with each one.

"Because an uncluttered sink helps with an uncluttered mind!" a pink note above her sink declares, where a few glasses and plates have been left to sit.

"Use me! Because you've come so far as a cook, and I exist for a reason!" the green note on her spotless stovetop-oven all but shouts.

"Because your body deserves nourishment, and Uncle wants you to eat well. Don't forget to keep a full fridge!" one blue sticky note insists on her refrigerator. Skychaser slyly opens the freezer door to better gauge the sorts of things his friend prefers to indulge in, for the noble cause of future birthday bashes (he genuinely half expects a compartment full of ice cream). His eyebrows fly up when he sees it's empty besides a tray of ice cubes.

'She REALLY must have gone out for some serious grocery shopping, geez...'

Now that he thinks about it, it's curious, really. Because while Dream's session on the notes had been held a month ago, Skychaser had visited just a week before and he's certain these little reminders hadn't been present that day. But the folded corners and slight creases on the notes suggest that they aren't recent either...?

Huh. Weird.

Sky hears the rain audibly thrum harder on the roof. He glances at the door, then at the time on her microwave.

6:42. Still no Dreamaria.

Hooves clacking across the tiles, Skychaser turns to leave the kitchen. In an effort to set aside his uncertainty, he considers what distractions he could find on Dream's T.V. That is until he finds himself pausing by the kitchen island.

Skychaser now notices that amongst a clutter of unopened mail envelopes, a single letter has been left out. Were it not for the rather official-looking white and blue mailer with a broken gold wax seal, or the fancy thick yellow parchment of the letter itself, Skychaser would have overlooked it.

He fights with himself, eyes flicking back and forth between the rest of the living room and the strange letter just...laying there.

...his need for answers wins over. Because surely a small glimpse and the quickest skim just to understand the subject of such an out-of-place letter couldn't hurt. It just may be the very clue he's been seeking as to the whereabouts of his friend.

'An emergency', his mind supplies nervously again, the feeling intensifying when he picks out on the envelope's face that the mailing address is from Reinsford; Dreamaria's hometown.

'Yeah, that's not comforting...'

So sure enough, he sets his now-folded towel onto the counter and leans over the parchment, giving the sentences a quick once-over. He searches for names, keywords, the last line of the letter-

He stops.

He reads the last line again. Then a third time, his eyes widening with each reread.

'Hold the fuck on, am I-?'

Sky swoops the letter up into his wings. He squints harder, darting his orange irises back to the beginning. Because maybe context would confirm whether he's crazy or he just read what he thinks he just read.

"Dear Madam Dreamaria Flow,

I hope this package and its contents have found you in good health.

It has been a lengthy two years since your departure from our beloved coasts. Your absence has been profoundly felt by your fellow residents and myself, even to this very day.

While I would not dare to take up more of your time than necessary, I first wish to extend my deepest apologies for not reaching out to you sooner. Your uncle has shared a tale or two of your exploits in Ponyville, and though I am sure you have found success and a great sense of fulfillment in your new career - a hearty congratulations to you, may I add! - I have felt that a hefty debt was left unpaid the day you left this town.

It is only right that I follow through on my word. It took some time, but after vowing to properly reward you for your unforgettable deed, I am happy to announce that I have made great use of my authority to finally deliver:"

Halfway through the letter, the storm outside gives another bright flash of lightning, followed seconds later by a booming crack of thunder that almost shakes the air. A barely present corner of his mind registers something...slightly different about it; like a subtle sparking undercurrent of sound had joined in for just a second. But right now he's focused on this letter, too immersed in speed-reading the sentences to consider it as anything but a one-off:

"Enclosed is your very own Reinsford-sanctioned Certification of Arcane Excellence. Please do brandish this certificate with pride as a prior member of Reinsford's community. I believe such high credentials could prove useful and bode well if presented and proven to Princess Twilight Sparkle herself.

While losing someone as gifted and valuable as yourself thoroughly saddens us, we are quite pleased knowing our talented Dreamaria is still putting her skills to good use.

Remember that this town will always be your home. It has been far too long since we have last seen you. Never hesitate to visit, and if anything goes wrong, know that we will gladly welcome you back with open arms."

And then finally, he reaches that line again. Except he isn't sure if context has at all changed the amount of bewilderment and awe his discovery has brought him.

"Nonetheless, Reinsford will continue to miss its - official, as of this letter - dear Wizard, and its citizens whole-heartedly wish you well with your personal endeavors.

With gratitude, Mayor Bight"

A thunderclap of merciless lightning shatters the sky, and in that very instant, darkness falls around him.

The blackout startles Skychaser enough that he drops the letter and braces against the kitchen island with a soft yelp. He's thankful that the nearby streetlamp is managing to stream in just enough light through the windows to allow him the vaguest visual of his surroundings; shapes and desaturated colors and shadows, more than anything.

But now there is an eerie, deafening silence, with the background whirring of every appliance coming to a complete hush. The rain, the slightest shifts of his body, and his breath are suddenly much louder, almost reverberating through the room.

Whatever sense of confusion and wonder over Dream's letter has momentarily fizzled out, replaced by goosebumps and an immense sense of vulnerability. He feels small and uneasy - a single breathing body in an expanse of black and greys.

'Maybe I've uh...outstayed my welcome... If preening in your friend's empty house is weird, standing around for them in the darkness of their home may deserve a restraining order.'

He'll just have to table his questions and intrigue for another day, as exasperating as it is to have even fewer answers now than before.

For the sake of his boggled mind, he settles that Dream is out shopping. Or doing awesome-secret-wizard-shit, if this letter and her disappearance aren't just some strange, elaborate prank Dreamaria has set up just for him. Unlikely, yeah, but he's also learned that Dream Flow is pretty up there in terms of surprise factor.

Maybe he'll see enough faces on his way back to the Sanctuary to ask around about his friend. But before that, if he wants to even make that journey, he decides that a borrowed umbrella might be a good idea right about now. Or ooh, a cute, tiny raincoat he can drape over his head as he elegantly races through the streets before ducking underneath an awning and meeting his soulmate? Surely Dream had one or the other around somewhere.

The attempt to lighten his own mood somewhat works as he's able to blindly locate her letter, replace it on the counter, and urge himself forward through the low lit room. The air has been quick to drop temperature without its heating unit, only adding to the strangely oppressive atmosphere.

Thankfully the street light bounces off of the far wall - the one he had previously borrowed his towel from - preventing him from running face-first into it. If he's remembering right, and he traces the wall towards those curving stairs in the back corner...

The wall stops short. Tucked into the large alcove that follows, he finds his sought-after mystery door right near the foot of the stairs.

While aware of its existence, he admittedly has never seen the room's interior nor ever had a reason to check it out. He's only ever assumed it to be some sort of coat closet, so naturally, any form of raincoat or umbrella would surely be stored within. Most likely??

But as he steps up to the door, all too ready to prepare for his leave, he yet again is brought to a halt. He makes out a familiar small square shape in this shadowed corner of the house, attached to the door a little higher than the usual eye level.

'Oh. Even here?'

He almost chooses to ignore the sticky note with his priorities at hoof. But something about it draws his eye - and he realizes that, even in this lighting, he can faintly make out words. It's due to the writing itself, displaying neat and meticulous letters, as opposed to the other affirmations that were more hastily scrawled.

'"Because"..."you"...?'

Sky has to lean in until the bridge of his scrunched muzzle is just inches away from the note. His eyes have adjusted to the dark, so he's able to read the bleeding inky words:

"Because you'll prove them wrong."

.....

Skychaser allows himself a moment to give the note a good, long stare.

Maybe it's due to his current circumstances: the storm, the week of Nightmare Night, Dream's absence, standing alone inside a dark, deathly still building on a cold November eve. But the sharp change in tone from Dreamaria's previous notes definitely forces Sky to acknowledge just how unsettled he feels.

One step back and he's boring his visible eye into the closet door before him. That eye then falls to its silver door handle.

...this....is a closet that he just found that note on. Right?

Sky very quietly, very weakly laughs to himself. He moves to turn the handle before he can overthink it.

'Maybe this is where Dream keeps all the dead bodies.' he jests, pushing the door open a sliver.

It creaks under his hesitant grasp. With that crack, Sky notices a light source within, out of sight, in a room bigger than he honestly pictured; faint. Orange. ...pulsating?

BANG!

Sky releases an indecipherable shout right as the door in his grasp SLAMS back in place in one explosive movement. He stumbles backward but he doesn't get far, because in a whirlwind there are glowing blue lights flying around him in literal ribbons, erupting from the floor, grabbing him, coiling around him so rapidly that he doesn't get a chance to even unfurl his wings as he rears up, because now they're being tied to his back and his forelegs are bound up securely against his chest-

He's lifted, hoisted right off the ground and jostled about in the process of being turned. At this point he's stopped thrashing and has kept his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth painfully clenched. Upon the movements stopping, he cracks his eyes open to look down at himself.

Instead, his irises flash to his lower left, where the end of one ethereal ribbon is gradually creeping around his neck without actual contact: a silent threat. He can't control the pitifully strangled noise he lets out, desperately leaning his head as far away as possible, which isn't far at all.

'What the fuck, what the FUCK, I WAS FUCKING JOKING-'

He would be breaking down into hysterical laughter right about now if he wasn't so shaken. The only reason he hasn't entered a full-blown panic is that the ribbons have completely ceased their motions, and while tight, it's not enough to restrict his breathing. He's fine. He's okay.

Look at him. Those positive thinking exercises have been working...haha. ...coping with humor at a time like this probably isn't the healthiest, though, even if it's working to keep his sanity intact.

Maybe it's not fully hitting him. It all feels too unreal, like some realistic fever dream-

Violently swishing fabric rolls through his ears next, too pitched and harsh to be born from his imagination. Skychaser jolts, because in a single blink, the safe beams of the streetlight filtering in from each of the house's windows have been cruelly snuffed out. The curtains have all been pulled shut in one sweep. He's been left in true, absolute pitch darkness.

And then he sees it.

A set of white, glowing pinpricks of light, waiting in the shadows straight ahead.

Staring right back.

Watching him. Sky registers that this is real.

Body and throat seized up in terror, he doesn't even scream. He can't find his voice, only listening to his own labored breathing while those two glows eerily sway and grow closer. He catches the sound of slow, careful steps. Hoofclacks.

As his mind processes, the glowing orbs stop just outside of the light from his radiant restraints.

And they speak.

"...state your business."

The voice is low. Soft and husky, yet it carries in the quiet amongst a backdrop of rain. It's formal, frigid, and completely foreign to him.

Skychaser shivers.

"I-I..." he struggles out, his own voice hoarse but miraculously coherent despite his scrambled brain. "I was...l-looking-"

He snaps his mouth close when he hears a sharp inhale in front of him. It's followed by a much gentler, far more familiar tone.

"...Skychaser?"

Sky's eyes bug open, only for him to cringe away when a flash of light nearly blinds him. He blinks against it anyway, urging his pupils to focus in on-

Dream Flow.

The tip of her horn is illuminated with a small beacon of magical light - a beacon that closely resembles whatever the hell she's done to her pupils, filled at the centers with the very pinpricks of white that had shaken him previously.

The unicorn looks thoroughly dumbfounded. Wide-eyed, mouth open, head pulled back. When she seemingly confirms his identity for herself, her eyebrows knot even further.

"...you're...my intruder?" she slowly sounds out. "How did you...why are you here?"

Sky's remaining brain cell has long fizzled out by now, so he sputters at first before he exclaims back;

"Me?? I came here looking for you! You didn't show for our sauna meet! Where in Equestria have you been?!"

Cogs seem to turn in his friend's head for a few seconds before realization settles in.

"Oh." She murmurs, blinking owlishly at him. "That...yes. You're right. I...oh..."

More beats of silence pass. Sky shifts uncomfortably in the ribbons' grasp. Before he can even ask, the motion has Dream breaking out of her stupor. As if just realizing the state he's in, dismay flickers across her face. And yet she lets out a laugh, one he can only describe as stressed in this context.

"Oh Celestia, what a horrible...horrible misunderstanding!"

With a blue spark of her horn, Skychaser watches as the magical ribbons begin to shimmer and dissolve away, gently lowering him down as they do. He turns his head about at the rather pretty display, with sparkles left behind in the spell's wake before those dissolve in thin air too. Skychaser doesn't get to admire for long as he clumsily has to catch himself with his front hooves those final few inches to the floor.

He shoots her a perplexed look, but he doesn't think she sees it, because she's too busy aiming a secondary laugh at the floor. In his gut, he has the distinct impression that she doesn't actually find this humorous. Not with the way her shoulders have gone rigid.

"I am...so terribly sorry, Skychaser. I genuinely thought someone had broken into my house and...well, I was prepared for a confrontation!"

"I noticed!" he wheezes out, half-exasperated, half-jokingly. "You also look ready to shoot lasers out of your eyes, and I nearly peed myself because of it."

Dream winces, then squeezes her eyes and sets her horn sparking blue again. When she reopens them - thank God - her actual pupils have returned. The spectrum of colors in them are discernable again too - downcast, he discovers that the azure in her irises appears more pronounced. Or maybe it's the low lighting.

"They say intimidation leaves an impression," she quips, the corner of her mouth barely quirking up. She's still not looking at him. "Guess it worked, huh?"

Sky mouth pulls down into a deep frown, his gaze roaming over his friend. Dream's blue mane is unusually unkempt from what he's used to. The mare's form hasn't even moved an inch from its tight, almost closed off stance in the past minute or two - a significant contrast to the conversational cadence of her voice.

He doesn't think he's ever seen Dream so...physically withdrawn before. In a way, it was understandable in the aftermath of what's looking more and more like one very awkward, very startling mix-up. But it's also not like she hurt him.

"Hey, Dreamers, it's okay. You freaked me out, sure, but I'm WAY more relieved to see you. I was starting to think something serious happened."

Shortly afterward, Dream finally meets his eye, but only to offer a sad smile.

"I apologize for that! It seems I just..."

"Overslept?" Sky grins humorously, only to pause when Dream's expression dips into guilty. "Wait what?"

"I'd only meant to close my eyes for an hour or two at most-" she confesses, glancing up towards her stairs. "-and take a short rest before meeting up. But the murky weather must have lulled me." A chuckle bubbles out of her and she shakes her head. "I think my sleepy haze made me forget everything else once a 'threat' entered the picture. But that's no excuse. I won't let something this careless happen again, I promise."

Sky rubs his forehead. Not because he has a headache, but because the small puzzle pieces he now possesses are struggling to mash together. "So...you were actually upstairs? This whole time?"

Dream nods. "Yes, I woke up when..." Her eyes trail over towards the front door.

She goes quiet. Almost as soon as that answer fades out, another question begins. "....Sky, how did you get in anyway?"

"Your door was unlocked...?" he provides, letting the question in his tone voice his own confusion. "Which I thought was weird."

Dream answers with a short, disbelieving laugh. "Oh wowy! Seems I didn't lock it behind me when I got the mail today..." she breathes out a sigh. "I'm glad you got out of the storm, but I'll need to be more mindful."

Mail.

An opening presents itself to him. A way to find answers and ease tension, he hopes, as his buried intrigue and curiosity rises from the depths.

"Hey, don't sweat it! But I gotta say...that was a preeetty cool trick you did back there," A knowing grin spreads across his face, and he leans his head forward with a conspirational whisper. "Miss Wizard~"

Dreamaria doesn't respond right away. It takes her one steady beat before she slowly turns her head back towards him.

A blank stare greets him.

"...what?"

"You're a Wizard, Dreamy!" he chirps, bouncing between his hooves. "Congratulations! Even I couldn't believe it when I spotted your letter, but all that fancy-shmancy magic you did sure confirms it." He taps his hoof to his chin, humming playfully. "It sounds like you've had a bunch of snazzy spells up your sleeve for a while! Why'd you never-"

He's so lost in his giddy mental world of excitement and thrill that he almost misses the way Dream stiffens. Almost.

Because her smiles are gone now.

"You...read my letter."

It's less of a question and more a statement she's allowing to sink in. Caught off guard by her abrupt monotonous tone, he finds himself self-conscious in his reply.

"Yeah it was...lying on the counter, and I thought it could be a...clue...but um..."

With each word, Sky begins to recognize the breach of privacy he had committed and how weak of an excuse he really had to snoop on a clearly personal letter. Even if it felt justified at the time. It's his turn to wince guiltily. "Yeah no that...sounds pretty bad actually."

Dream doesn't react, gazing back vacantly in a way she's never done before. It makes him retract a hoof, an uncomfortable knot forming in his stomach. "...Dream?"

She inhales, almost painstakingly slow and deep. The breath is held for a few seconds longer.

Then, after an exhale that's just as prolonged, the smallest smile ghosts across her muzzle.

"I see. You were worried and it just kind of happened. Right? I'm the one who left it out and created this whole mess. So really, it's my own fault."

What? Sky insistently shakes his head. "No way, it's your house. I should've held off...I'm sorry."

Dream reaches out to touch his shoulder, smiling sweetly. "Apology accepted! What's done is done, eh~?"

Uncertainty lingers despite himself; to think he managed to elicit that response, out of Dream, which made it undeniably that much more nervewracking. Regardless, Skychaser wills himself to relax.

How Dream can consistently be that quick to forgive will remain out of his realm of understanding. Good thing, too...he didn't think he could handle impairing one of his most cherished friendships all because of his own ever-present idiocy.

"...can I ask...??"

Sky's a little dubious on where to put his footing down from here, but he trusts Dream enough to be forthright with him about where her lines lie. Thankfully the corners of the mare's eyes crinkle back cordially.

"Yes, Sky?" she invites.

"...does that mean you're like that one guy?" He leans back in, side-mumbling to her. "Star Whirl the Bearded or whatever-"

Dream laughs, loud and hearty. "OH, heavens no! Starswirl was an arcane prodigy. I'm nothing like that." Dream Flow turns away from Sky to walk towards her front door. Curious, Skychaser follows after her. "In fact, despite what that letter claims, I'm not a Wizard."

"What?" Sky laughs out, shooting the back of her head a doubtful raise of his brow. "But they gave you-"

She smiles back at him over her shoulder, serenely closing her eyes and shaking her head.

"I'm not a Wizard. Being a Wizard suggests that I'm some grand expert who plays with different fields of magic for a living! I'm just an Emotion Counselor who happens to have some extra prior study on the side." For some reason she begins to glide an absentminded hoof against the carved wood of the doorframe. "Reinsford legally naming me their pet Wizard doesn't change that."

...pet? "Now excuse me for a second!" Dream says, aiming her horn towards the entrance. "I really need to reset this before the mental buzzing gives me a headache."

Her horn illuminates - an odd mismatch of bright blue with tinges of her magic's usual orange - and Skychaser gapes as the unassuming decorative markings carved into the door's wooden frame begin to light up brightly, one by one, until it's covered with these glowing elaborate lines and shapes completely unfamiliar to the pegasus. Dream turns back to him, coaxing him with a nudge of her head towards the display.

"If you don't mind, Skychaser, could you please touch one of these runes? If I add in your magic signature, we won't have to worry about another silly mishap."

Sky has literally no idea what any of that means. But Dream looks composed and attentive, so he follows her instructions. This "rune" he touches brightens, casting a warm halo of white light around his hoof. Then it all fades away, dimming the room back to just Dreamaria's light spell.

He glimpses at the unicorn and takes in the unexpectedly soft way she's looking at him.

"...thank you for trusting me." She expresses with warmth, placing a hoof over her chest in some form of relief.

"I mean yeah, always, but that was...?"

Dream perks up. There's a playfulness to her demeanor as she casually shrugs.

"A magical alarm. Just in casies. You activated my runes when you walked in," she giggles. "That's what alerted me and woke me up! But now that I've included you into the formula, you're my trusted exception. No more false alarms if something like this manages to happen again."

Okay. Sky's mind is officially boggled.

"Wait, so you're over here trying to convince me that you're NOT a Wizard-" He gestures incredulously at the door. "But you can do crazy shit like that?!"

Her ears twitch back, enough to catch his attention. Just like that, she's back to averting her gaze.

"Ah...this isn't as complicated as it looks, actually!" Dream defends cheerfully, strain returning to the smile she's wearing. "The initial set up was more tedious if anything. But I appreciate the compliment!"

With that, she strides away from the front door and back into the house, presumably towards her kitchen. However, her attitude regarding the subject bugs him. It's not like he knows much about unicorn history and titles and whatnot, but still...

"I thought being called a Wizard would be like...the highest honor for a unicorn or something." He scratches his head, a little embarrassed over his own lack of knowledge. "So I guess I'm not getting why you're..."

"Being called a wizard is a compliment to a unicorn's abilities." Dream supplies for him, slowing her gait to a halt. She turns her head without facing him, choosing to speak into the air instead. "Being named a Wizard is different...just something silly they began labeling me one day." More jovial laughter shakes her shoulders. "It was a little much! So Ponyville became my home of choice."

Despite her light-hearted, almost whimsical tone, Sky's ability to read body language doesn't fail him. He sees tension retake her frame.

"So you don't want to be one." Sky notes with a frown, eyebrows pulled back. Hooves clacking against the hardwood floor, he stops just beside her to brush a soothing wing against her shoulder; something he realizes he's never had to do, because comfort has only ever been given the other way around. "Too much pressure?" He prompts quietly.

Dream Flow is staring off, a distant look on her face. There's a slight shift to her jaw.

"I...don't have time to..."

She's deep in thought. Contemplative. Choosing her words carefully as she lowers her head to one side.

"...humor their fantasy of me."

A tense silence follows, along with a creeping feeling of personal familiarity. Sky tries to work a response through his mind, but he doesn't get enough time to when Dream's gently pushing his wing away and beaming up at him. "But never mind that. This weather must be doing things to me. It's not like me to put a damper on the mood! I've never been the biggest fan of rain."

"It's not a damper..." Sky tries, because really, when has Dream ever opened up to him like this? It's never even crossed his mind that she even had things to open up about, as stupid as that was.

But it's clear to him that Dream's finished, with the way she holds up a hoof and how the curve of her lips eases. "I wouldn't want anypony getting the wrong idea about me here either, actually. So I hope we can keep this between us? No more ‘Dream the Magical Wizard'?"

Dream drops her pitch a few decimals just to exaggerate the title, and it's so out of the blue that it wins her a short laugh from him. "Of course." Sky answers without hesitation. If she's shared all she's willing to, enough to return to her usual self, he won't push it. That's how she's always been when it came to him, after all. "You're just 'Dreamers the Dork" to me."

A grin breaks across Dream's face at that. "I like that better, actually."

"Ooooh no, don't say that, or else I'll start greeting you like that. Everywhere we go."

Dream giggles and continues her trek to the kitchen with Sky in tow. He now sees that she's heading towards that little area directly beneath her stairway; a side room to her kitchen used for her laundry appliances.

...memory swears that the folding doors to this room were closed earlier.

"Okay, let's fix this..." she hums and steps into the crowded space, leaving Sky standing at the threshold. He never identified it until now, writing it off as some random metallic plate on the back wall, but Dream Flow snaps it open and reveals it to be a door to a breaker box.

Confused, he's about to stop what should've been a futile attempt at bringing back power, but just like that, Dream flicks the top-most switch and the house comes back to life around him. Light refills the room, the microwave lets out a beep of relief, and Sky meanwhile is whipping his head back and forth between the main room and Dream herself.

"Wait, I thought the storm took out the power, how did you??"

"Oh, no." Dream grins sheepishly, gesturing towards the circuit breaker behind her. "That was all me."

Oh, how the surprises never cease with her. When did she even get downstairs to pull this stunt on him?

Well, she could teleport. But even that made noise. How he never heard her even once is-

Oh. Thunder.

"This was...one elaborate plan, Dream."

"That's true. But when you've never lived alone before, you sort of...end up a little paranoid." Dream rubs her foreleg shyly. "I saw lights on downstairs, sensed someone I couldn't even see walking around, and had no clue what they wanted. Naturally I assumed a break-in, so I took the necessary precautions to keep safe and take action."

If Sky didn't feel bad earlier, he's certainly feeling it now.

"Damn...didn't mean to scare ya, sis."

"That goes for two of us..." Dream Flow sighs dramatically. "Causing fear in you...I'd never wish for that again."

"Hey, I'm just glad it wasn't anything paranormal!" Sky exclaims, backing up to let Dream join him in the actual kitchen. When she does, though, she turns her head towards her appliances.

"...oh. Well this is embarrassing." She says, looking straight at one of her sticky notes. "These were meant to be private, but wow does this explain why my 'intruder' was so entertained by my kitchen."

Skychaser snickers. "Hey, I for one appreciated your wise words. I think it's cute that you're messing around with affirmations yourself."

Speaking of...that reminds him.

"I was wondering, Dream," Sky motions his head back towards the very space their face-off had played out. "What's that room by the stairs? I thought it was a coat closet, but..."

He trails off, wondering if Dream will catch on.

"Oh, that? That's just my private study! I've stored a bunch of very personal memories from Reinsford in there." She smiles. "I take it you read my note. It's basically a little reminder for myself to keep moving forward."

Ah. Move on from a town of expectations? That made enough sense to him. And he sure was glad all of the wild threads tonight were finally ending with answers.

"And like everything else, I can only guess that creepy orange glow was you too?" he teases. "I only got a glimpse, but it definitely was a distraction before everything broke loose."

Dream doesn't say anything at first, as if waiting for him to continue or deliver some punch line. When he doesn't elaborate she gives him an inquiring eyebrow raise and a tilt of her head. "Wait, what glow?"

Sky stops. Just in case, he searches Dream's face, but she looks sincerely clueless.

"The...one inside the study?" He provides, hoping for any sign of recognition. "Something was glowing, but it was faint and I couldn't see anything."

Dream looks taken aback. Eyes darting sharply towards the door in question, she gives it one disbelieving look.

"'Glowing'...?" she whispers breathily, and the goosebumps that had long faded away are now returning to Skychaser's pelt. He blanches.

"Oh Gods it wasn't you..." Sky tugs at his hair and makes some sort of makeshift curtain to hide half of his face behind. "Oh Gods, what was that then?!"

Dream's multi-colored orbs snap back to him. "A-ah! Well-" her voice carries a slight tremor, one she catches and visibly swallows down (as if that'll hide how she's just as freaked out as he is, she's not fooling him). Then she laughs it off, giving him a playful grin. "It's probably not ghosts?"

"Probably?!"

"It's more likely some old runic project of mine! Responding to the electrical energy in the storm." She waves her hoof towards the ceiling. On cue, a rumble of thunder reaches them. "Elemental conversion and all!"

"Lady, I still don't get your magic talk, but if you say so..." He heaves out a breath. "Anything but ghosts...or dead bodies."

Dream gives him a quizzical look at that last comment, but apparently decides against asking. "Well hey! You know what'll lighten the mood?" Dream claps her hooves together, eyes glittering now. "The storm won't stop for another hour or two. So it's time for me to begin making it up to you, starting with a movie night! I still have popcorn in the cupboard and plenty of soda~"

Sky squints at her from behind his mane-wall.

"...'Dogs Don't Dance'?"

"A classic." Dream nods sagely.

"And you'll restock your dang empty freezer first thing?"

"Whoops...don't worry! I'll stop slacking and do that tomorrow~"

Skychaser carries himself to the DVD storage shelf her television sits on. It's thankfully on the literal opposite side of the room from Dream's private study, a place he's sure he'll now associate with tension and spooks after the events of the day. Keeping away is proobably for the best, especially right now. Because reassured or not, the pegasus doesn't think he'll be completely shaking off his jitters tonight. A scary movie would probably do him in at this point.

Dream must be experiencing something similar, because after tapping the popcorn setting on her microwave, he sees her lean against the counter and restlessly gaze off towards that very door behind him. Warding off any surprise demons with her magic stare, he hopes.

But enough jokes. He leaves Dream to it, turning his full undivided attention on the vital task of sifting through DVD cases and finding his favorite comfort movie of jiving animated dogs. They both probably need it.

_________________________________________________________ This...this is a dense chapter and I'm kind of living.

I'm so curious to know what theories and thoughts people have drawn from it, so don’t be afraid to hyper-analyze. Nothing brings me greater joy... I recently fell in love with a few different writing styles and decided to play around with it myself here! I had a lot of fun with it, HEHEH. These probably constitute a whole separate lore upload, but for now, below will be a list of headcanons on Wizards in Destinyverse! For those interested!

-----------------------

Wizard/Sorcerer/Sorceress are all synonymous and are used based on preference. “Wizard” is the go-to gender-neutral term of the three.

The title of “Wizard” has altered throughout time. In pre-Equestrian days, when the Unicorns were all competing to understand magic and develop their power and prestige, the original Unicorn Royal Family were quick to employ the most powerful and innovative mages as advisors. These were the first Wizards - they were gifted high societal status and became the first nobles, whose wealthy descendants still live in the uppercrust of Canterlot to this day.

Thereafter, Wizardry became a profession that certified one’s expertise and allowed a unicorn to work alongside the most prestigious spellcasters and researchers (sometimes working for the crown, but not always). Aspiring Wizards then only earned their own title if they were lucky enough to have their talents acknowledged by the royal family (in the special case of the mighty prodigy Starswirl himself), or by the authority of an existing Wizard (ie. the sorcerer Clover the Clever, first student of Starswirl the Bearded).

After the three pony tribes integrated into one society (and the Unicorn Royal Family abdicated for the reign of Celestia and Luna), unicorns stepped up in villages all across Equestria to offer magical consultation and arcane services to their fellow ponies. From time to time, an especially studied specialist with a wide range of knowledge would prove their skill or accomplish an incredible feat; thus began the practice of local governments certifying their very own Village Wizard for townsfolk to go to for any magical needs. Not all Village Wizards dedicated themselves to one singular town; in fact, it was considered an honor for a village’s Wizard to proudly represent their town and aid others across Equestria.

The decline of spellcrafting and spellcasting over the centuries has led to Wizards being few and far between. The desire to pass down arcane knowledge still exists, as seen with Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns; so these days, only those with a thirst for knowledge (or even rarer, the desire to pursue arcane advancement) study magic. Even fewer who graduate Celestia's school have gone on to become Wizards, either becoming professors at the princess' school or private tutors of upper-class Canterlot.

The modern Wizard is now defined as a certified practitioner of multiple fields of magic who is consulted for arcane services and/or researches for the sake of arcane advancement. Famous present day Wizards include!

Mage Meadowbrook and Mistmane (both once designated sorceresses of their respective villages). Meadowbrook was the very first non-unicorn to become a mage, and then named Sorceress for her potion-making and item-enchantments.

Starlight Glimmer (sorceress; professor at Twilight’s School of Friendship and occasional aid for Uni-Tech)

Sunset Shimmer (sorceress; royal scientist; founder of Uni-Tech who works for societal advancements in magitech)

Sunburst escapes the definition by a thin hair, due to not being an actual spellcaster or crafter. But he is a valuable magic advisor with his keen mind, and a proud member of Uni-Tech.

#mlp #mlp art #mlp oc #My Little Pony #Skychaser #Dreamaria Flow #destinyverse #story

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xbunnybunz · 4 years ago

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stay here with me [underswap!papyrus x reader]

Summary: You and papyrus enjoy the quieter moments of life together.

Genre: Fluff, Friendship or Lovers

Date: April 26, 2017

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Streaks of the sunset painted the city before you in a palette of orange, red, and pink. As the sun dipped lazily behind the curve of the outstretched horizon, both monsters and humans alike made their journey back home, mothers calling to their children for supper, and soulmates reuniting after a long day apart.

The calm prelude of night draped over the city and bled into your skin, the cool twilight air tranquil and slightly damp, hypnotizing you into a peaceful trance.

From this spot on the roof, time seemed to slow down. Life passed by slowly, leisurely, before your eyes in the form of a hazy sunset accompanied by the dull hum of conversation from below.

You allowed your eyes to slip shut, your ears picking up on a bypassing conversation involving the weather, and pieces of prattle speaking of a lightbulb in need of replacing. Basking in the fading light of dusk had always exposed you to the gentler parts of life, the life that was larger than anyone could ever fathom, but appeared to be so delicate that even the slightest whisper could disturb it’s serene lull.

It was humbling, you had decided a while ago, during one of your first visits to this roof. Life was abstract and immense, uncontainable and ever-spontaneous. In the groggy haze of the morning and the tumultuous noise of the late afternoon, it was hard to focus on anything but yourself. It was difficult to stop and admire the risen sun, bold, blazing, and beautiful, and even moreso to find pleasure in the smiles of those around you after a long day. But here, underneath a sky stained with the colors of yet another day coming to a close, you could finally allow your tense shoulders to fall and wholeheartedly enjoy the murmurs of a town readying for slumber.

Even in moments like these, where the seconds seem to dawdle, and then drip slowly like wax off of a candle, you could feel the steady beat of your strident heart - the rush of blood under your skin. The reminder that being alive was no longer a question for you, but an unwavering fact that you grew to accept; even become grateful for.

The monochrome coloring of daily life had jaded the brilliance of your existence, people who surrounded you always cold, always aloof and always detached. Your world, like many others, had changed when news of monsters came about.

The surface world was just as new to them as the concept of living alongside monsters was to you, and although you had remained hard-hearted and stoic in the face of impending change, fate had drawn your path to cross with those that would soon change your perspectives- and alter your reality.

Upon contact with them, your colorless world had exploded into a beautiful lilac sky- like a red-hot passion flower blooming in high speed- and just like that, you were overwhelmed.

Years of indifference bled into empathy, bled into compassion, and suddenly these beings that you thought nonexistent just months prior had morphed you into someone who could simultaneously be alive, and be living.

In the midst of thought, a breeze passed over you, bringing with it a chill that raised goosebumps along your skin. Your hands reach up and cradle your arms, an earnest attempt at preserving heat that seemed all but in vain.

A low and rumbling voice that reminded you of a rolling wave greeted you, a long-phalanged hand resting atop the crown of your head. You leaned into the touch, his bones warmer than you, who had been exposed to the evening chill for a longer duration of time.

After a bit of muffled shifting, a warm orange hoodie is strewn across your shoulders. You accept it gratefully, pulling the thick, wooly material over your head and allowing the excess sleeve pool around your fingertips. It’s scent was thick and comforting, a melty blend of cigarettes and intoxicatingly sweet honey. You burrow yourself deeper into it, enjoying it’s deep contrast with the thin and cool night air.

“hey, kid. admiring the view?”

You did not answer, but the silence did not seem to sway him.

He clicked and his joints groaned as he took a seat next to you, bone against shingles making a strange scraping noise. But that did not deter you from moving closer to him. With shoulders barely touching, you both look up at the sky, which had faded from it’s pastel tinted hues to a crisp and refreshing midnight blue.

“so, what’s on your mind? you usually don’t look so a-roof.”

You spared a few quiet chuckles at his bad pun, keeping your voice light and airy for fear of tainting the gentle silent spell.

“Just thinking about life, as usual.”

The click of a cigarette lighter echoes in your ears before the scent of freshly lit, earthy tobacco brushes past your nose. You wondered if you would also be able to smell the smoke from the embers, if only you leaned a bit closer.

“ah. anything new?”

Bones rattled softly against each other as he spoke in baritone, then exhaled. Smoke drifted off of his freshly-lit cigarette and formed swirls that danced about in the air; slight, wispy, and curling at the ends, beckoning and nearly seductive in their ascent to nothingness.

“No,”

You say, after a long stretch of still silence.

“But I’m glad that I’m here.”

Your eyes turn to him, and you are not surprised to find that he is already looking at you. The bone that composed his skull was dull, like eggshell, but pure and rich, much like porcelain. In the backlight of the new moon, you could trace the etches of his cheekbones- constantly turned up because of his grin- with your eyes. Gentle shadows fell over the slight chips and dents in the surface of his periosteum and continued down his vertebra, which disappeared into a thin black tank-top that was usually worn with a fleece hoodie.

Looking at him, you knew you two had never cared for someone quite as much as you did for each other. But, despite all this, he was not the reason you decided to stay, no. You had your own reasons, but he had made the decision seem so much easier.

“here?” he questioned, but it seemed more like a conclusion than an inquiry.

You drew your eyes back to the moon, not quite complete, but very much present and very much beautiful.

“With both of you. At home.”

You hear him shift and take another drag of the cigarette, this time allowing it to dangle between two of his long fingers. The burning amber color of the embers captures your eye for a split second before Papyrus lets out another throaty exhale, smoke wrapping around his head in exquisite patterns you learned was mostly magic.

“heh. am i competin’ with blueberry, now?”

He nudges you with his elbow softly, teasingly, though you can tell he is thankful you included his brother in your proclamation of happiness.

“Might just be.” You teased back, a smile playing at your lips. “He’s a real sweetheart, that one.”

Papyrus takes one last, long inhale before he snuffs the embers of his dying cigarette on the roof tiles. The smoke has yet to dissipate from the air entirely, leaving it warm and musty. He reclines onto his back, arms behind his head. He reminds you of a leisurely chesire cat: slinky, grinning, and witty.

You close your eyes again, basking in the bliss of this simple night and his presence. You can still sense the light of the moon and the stars above you through your eyelids, and you can still feel the fleece lining of the honey and tobacco-scented hoodie on your skin. You can still feel him lying beside you, and hear his easy breathing, a habit he told you was not necessary, but routine.

“i am too.” he says, his voice not breaking the silence, but sliding along with it. “glad that you’re here. with us.”

You hum, socked feet brushing against his sneakers. “Here?” You ask, more of a conclusion than an inquiry.

You can nearly hear the smile in his voice, and you match it with your own as he answers “here. with us, at home.”

#undertale #papyrus #undertale papyrus #underswap #underswap papyrus #reader insert #fanfiction #papyrus x reader #underswap!papyrus x reader #old work

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himarifuruya · 4 years ago

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Diamond Light [ That's the Tea ]

Preface: Diamond Light is a non-linear series of stories based around my OC Himari Furuya and her relationship with Tamaki Amajiki or Suneater.

TW: Chapters may contain Rated M [18+] content, such as graphic sexual content, canon typical violence and gore, body horror and explicit language.

Chapter Summary: Tamaki catches up with his friends and gains some unexpected insight.

Tamaki was in burnout.

Over these past weeks, he had been so exhausted. Ever since his work study had begun, he wanted to do nothing but go home and sleep. If he wasn’t on patrols, training, or studying for his classes, he was a living vegetable. His tired, aching body didn’t want to do anything besides lay in bed and waste the hours away.

It hadn’t been an unpleasant time though, working in Fat Gum’s agency had been a highlight in many ways. Though his mentor could be a tad overwhelming for his taste, he couldn’t have asked for a better one. He especially didn’t mind the partnership he formed with the ghostly hero, Wraith - who had despite her eccentric nature, provided valuable support during their missions.

Still, he could use a break.

On one of his free days, he agreed to go out with his friends. Nejire opted that the three of them should go to her favorite tea shop, saying that they have some of the best and most flavorful blends. He couldn’t deny that it sounded refreshing, especially after such a demanding week.

Lately, their schedules hadn’t been matching up, which had made hanging out difficult. Even at school, it seemed like they were always on the go. For Tamaki, it had been a little lonely, but he was happy to know that his friends felt the same. When the opportunity rose for them to get together, they immediately took advantage of it, like an oasis in the middle of a desert.

Once seated at the booth with their drinks, they began to play catch up.

He listened quietly as his friends chatted animatedly about their progress in their work study. Despite the hard work they endured, they both sounded happy with their respective agencies. Mirio spoke proudly of his mentor that he called “Sir,” with high enthusiasm, while Nejire couldn’t keep herself from gushing about the dragon hero Ryukyu. It made him smile fondly, knowing that they were having such a good time.

“How about you, Tamaki? How’s your work study going?” Mirio asked suddenly, nudging him with his elbow, causing the chimera hero to gulp on his drink loudly,

“It’s been okay…I guess…” He wanted to stop there, but he could feel his friends’ prying eyes on him, expecting further exposition.

Letting out a reluctant sigh, he continued. “Fat Gum is great and has been really helpful over these past few weeks. He’s always giving advice and loads of encouragement...perhaps a little too much praise from my perspective, but I─ really shouldn’t be complaining. We’ve been learning quite a bit.”

“We?” Mirio questioned.

A wave of warmth rose to his cheeks. “Uh…yeah, th-there’s a-a really nice girl there too she’s uh…um…o-oh no…” He face-planted into the wall beside him miserably. “…I’m such an idiot that I-I never got her real name.”

Mirio and Nejire exchanged sly looks.

"Is she cute?" they blurted in unison, catching the young Amajiki offguard.

“Don’t ask me that…” He grumbled. “All I know is that her hero name is Wraith…”

“Oh, you mean Himari Furuya?”

Tamaki’s head lifted. “Wait… You know her?”

“Yep! She was at the Sports Festival, don’t you remember?” Nejire asked

“E-eh - I g-guess I should, but I - well - I was kind of busy having a panic attack,” he mumbled.

“Oh yeah…” Nejire hummed softly with a tilt of the head, her laissez faire tone and relaxed expression easing the discomfort of admitting such a thing.

“Isn’t she also the daughter of Monochrome?” Mirio inquired.

“Monochrome…?” Tamaki was vaguely familiar with that name from some tabloids. If he recalled correctly, Monochrome was one of the more elusive heroes that stayed out of the public eye for the most part. Very few have ever met him in person.

Nejire bobbed her head. “Yeah, crazy right? They look nothing alike too, like night and day.”

“There’s a lot of rumors about that guy too...like really morbid ones.” Mirio remarked, scratching his chin. “I don’t know how true they are, but even some heroes are leery of him.”

“Why’s that?” Tamaki asked.

Mirio’s brows drew together, trying to find the right words to explain. “His quirk…he can absorb negative energies and use that to manipulate the things around him.”

Tamaki leaned in, growing more curious. “That’s quite the ability.”

“But how is that a bad thing? If he’s removing negativity, isn’t that beneficial? Wouldn’t that make any bad occurrence into a good one?” Nejire wondered aloud with her teacup held between her hands methodically.

“It does sound like a positive thing, doesn’t it? But, sadly, it isn’t that simple.” Mirio’s smile weakened as he went on. “Unfortunately, he can only store so much of that energy, so if he isn’t using it consistently, there can be some severe consequences if it leaks out. To put it simply, he isn’t exactly a lucky charm.”

Tamaki frowned deeply. “That’s pretty awful… I don’t even want to imagine the burden that could bring…”

Mirio hummed in accordance. “As long as he keeps it in check, there isn’t much to worry about, but that liability is always there.”

“I guess that makes sense, there’s pros and const to every quirk.” Nejire said, lowering her cup from her lips. “One way or another, we all have to figure out how to use the cards we are delt.”

"Oh!" Mirio suddenly blurted. "He can levitate, too."

"O-oh," Tamaki uttered in response. He glanced away for a moment, before a thought came to mind. He turned back to the blonde, uttering, "how do you know all this?"

"I heard about it at Nighteye's agency," Mirio replied brightly.

"I see," Tamaki replied softly, looking down at his tea again. It seemed that Nejire had refilled it while he wasn't looking.

"Does..." Tamaki began, trailing off as he mentally debated if he wanted to utter such a thought aloud. Furuya was a peer, someone he admired in her heroism, but who he barely knew. Yet, he couldn't help but wonder-

"...that mean he's often away, o-on missions?" Tamaki finished softly, glancing between his friends.

Nejire hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose so..."

Mirio added on more firmly, "I've heard he works a lot."

Tamaki looked back down, his lips pulled tight. So, then, did that mean Furuya was alone a lot...?

As if reading his mind, Mirio raised his cup and continued. “But, there’s a lot of unknowns, so we should be careful not to jump to conclusions.” There was a liveliness beaming in his blue irises, he looked at Tamaki, saying pointedly. “It’s better to get the information straight for the source.”

The color in the hero’s face drained. “L-Like – ask her d-directly? I-I don’t think I have the courage to do that…”

“I think he’s implying that it would be good to befriend her,” Nejire suggested kindly. Her expression lit up with a jovial smile. “Seems like it could be fun.”

Mirio nodded, following her statement with, “she’s in the other class, so it might not be as easy to meet up, but I’m sure we could work around it. What do you think, Tamaki?”

“I-I don’t know, I do like working with her…but – but I don’t want to m-make her feel uncomfortable - or think w-we only doing it out of p-pity.” While he appreciated their eagerness, he didn’t want to take Mirio’s warning lightly.

“Hm, that’s true too…” Nejire mused aloud, she leaned back into the cushion of the booth, twirling a periwinkle curl around her finger. “But, it doesn’t have to be forced either.”

“Exactly, it can happen organically – I mean, you want to be closer to her, right?” Mirio drawled.

The suggestiveness in his tone sent a blistering heat to Tamaki’s face. “E-Eh …? W-Well…y-yes, but w-why do y-you have to make it weird, Mirio!”

The blond chuckled, “sorry, but you left yourself open, dude.”

“Anyway…,” Nejire began, bringing them back on topic, “I’ve been wanting to get to know more people from class B, so this will be a great way to do that!”

“For sure, they are our future comrades after all,” Mirio agreed. “So, don’t think too hard about it, buddy.”

Tamaki’s shoulders slumped, pressing his lips together into a wobbly line. “Urk…w-when you point it out like that, i-it only makes it harder not to… - b-but, I’ll try.”

The trio polished off a few more pots of tea before going their separate ways. On his jaunt home, Tamaki could feel the brew sloshing in his belly, but he had to admit, he came out of their meeting feeling rejuvenated. If he hadn’t known better, he could have sworn his friends had a superpower for restoring energy on top of their established quirks.

Although he was still pretty worn out, he was more prepared to face the new week ahead.

In the back of his mind, he was still thinking about their discussion about the ghostly hero, Wraith. He wondered about the rumors that circulated around her family. Mirio hadn’t gone into detail about them, which left plenty of room for mystery, but maybe that was for the best.

For now, he was fine with not knowing – he was in no rush and there was no need to tarnish a clean slate.

#tamaki amajiki x oc #suneater x oc #oc x canon #bnha oc #mha oc

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lotorsshoulderpads · 4 years ago

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Description: The DotU squad goes to Arus’s first pride parade in years. Cuteness ensues.

Warnings: None!

“Lean in close, I’m gonna get a picture!” Lance threw an arm around Keith as he pulled out his phone, quickly testing out different angles.

“Another one? You already have at least thirty.” Keith said, before smiling for the camera regardless.

“What? You’re gonna blame a poor guy for wanting more pictures of his beautiful boyfriend? How rude.” Lance faked a pout and batted his eyes, making Keith roll his own, but he laughed all the same.

Lance tapped away on his phone, probably sending a picture to Cliff.

“W- Hunk!” Lance turned to face the older man in the backseat. “You photo bombed us!”

“I’d say my gorgeous mug vastly improved the picture.” Hunk replied, making Allura and Pidge giggle next to him.

Lance huffed, but he quickly lit up again as he got an idea.

“Allura! Lean forward, I wanna get a picture of the two of us.”

Allura did as she was asked, propping her chin up on her arm as she laid it across the back of Lance’s head rest.

Lance snapped the picture, and she watched quietly as he covered it with rainbow stickers and hearts before adding the text “Princess’s first Pride.”

“It’s been too long since we last went to a pride parade.” Keith said, almost wistfully. “I’ve always loved them!”

“What’s your favorite part?” Allura asked as Keith squirmed around in his seat, trying to stop sitting on his flag-turned-cape.

Keith thought for just a moment before responding, “When I'm actually in the parade, I like handing out the candy.”

“I like eating it!” Pidge cut in.

“I second that,” said Hunk, “but try not to overdo it this time. Last time we gave you control over your sugar intake you threw up.”

Pidge huffed and flushed pink as Keith groaned.

“Just thinking about that makes me nauseous!” Keith gave a full body shiver.

The car came to a stop, but before Keith or Lance could even make a grab for the door handles, Nanny turned to them from her place in the passenger seat.

“Stay safe, and don’t cause any trouble!”

“Kinda hard when trouble looks for us!” Pidge’s laugh was met by a hard glare that quickly shut him down.

“Yeah, no problem, We’ll be careful!” Keith said in a rush, before throwing open the door and leaping out.

“Responsible is my middle name!” Lance said as he followed suit, gracelessly, almost falling face first into the pavement in his haste.

Pidge followed him out, eager to either get away from Nanny or to stretch his legs after being crammed between Hunk and Allura the whole way here, it was hard to tell. Hunk, ever the gentleman, let Allura exit first.

🏳️‍🌈

Pride parades, Allura concluded, were ultimately not so different from any other parade she’d ever been to. People dressed in bright colors, strange looking floats, banners and vendors and music and so on.

And yet, Allura felt wholly out of her element, what with the flags she didn’t recognize and the culture she didn’t know. They were still just as Arusian as anyone else, of course, but there’s a different history happening here, a whole different world of experiences.

Allura always feared the idea that she was out of touch with her people, but never has she felt so woefully ignorant. Before she met the boys, she didn’t even know that being gay or bi or what have you was even a thing, so she was absolutely thrown in the deep end when she found out that not only could people like the same gender, but that some of her closest friends did.

And here she was in the present, next to Lance in his “I put the BI in BITCH” T-shirt, surrounded by a bunch of people celebrating their lives for the first time in over 20 years, immediately at a loss.

“Allura!”

She shrieked as Romelle threw her arms around her and easily lifted her feet off the ground. The taller woman spun around with her a few times, making Allura dizzy.

“Careful, you’ll break her ribs hugging her like that.” Sven said, giving his almost silent laugh, more of an exhale than anything.

Romelle set her down rather gingerly after that, and Allura smoothed the wrinkles from her jumpsuit.

“This is so exciting!” Romelle’s voice went uncharacteristically high as she jumped from foot to foot. “I’ve never even heard of a pride parade until this one! And the floats are so pretty!”

It was odd seeing Romelle so giddy, but Allura couldn’t blame her. She looked like a regular young woman for once, dressed in shorts and a “proud bisexu-whale” tank top (courtesy of her boyfriend) and with a myriad of jingly, brightly colored bangles and bracelets on either wrist.

"It really is something, isn't it?" Allura replied. She'd never seen Romelle smile so much, and she wondered briefly if it was hurting her face to smile that hard.

"Let's go! I want to get a good place to watch!" Romelle grabbed her hand, leading her into a busy streets as the boys trailed behind.

🏳️‍🌈

Pride parades, Allura concluded, were awesome. Maybe it was the fact that this was the first parade she'd ever been to where Nanny and Coran hadn't been breathing down her neck the whole time. The older duo had declined coming along past dropping them off and joining her on stage for her speech. She found it... odd.

But the show- or parade- must go on.

After the floats and speeches came what Lance loved and Pidge dreaded; the market place, usually full of of fresh foods and whatnot was now stocked with all manner of shirts, flags, pins, bracelets, bags- basically if you could slap a pride flag on it, it was there.

Lance loved supporting local creators. Pidge just wanted to avoid getting trampled by a crowd of people twice his size.

They ended up splitting into groups for the sake of navigating the storm- Lance and Keith flew off like the little love birds they were, Hunk played chaperone for Pidge, who wanted something to eat (not the Hunk was complaining), and Allura opted to play third wheel to her cousin and Sven.

The trio wormed their way through the crowd to different booths, dropping cash as they saw fit. It was fun spending so much time with Romelle. They hadn't known each other for that long, but it felt like they always did, like they were old friends.

Sven had laughed when Romelle was so quick to throw a wad of money at this one vender with a "bisexual of the blade" T-shirt, but he couldn't deny that it suited her perfectly.

They found themselves at a stand with what had to have been millions of buttons, in dozens of designs. They quickly set to work scouring the collection in hopes of finding one for everyone in their little brigade. Keith was easy to find one for- the "moron-sexual" button a sure way to get a laugh and an offended gasp from Lance. Pidge was much harder, but while searching for his, Allura had a difficult enough time remembering what flags went with what label. They had rainbow pins, that one was easy. Then there was the bi flag, another easy one.

"Need any help?"

Allura looked up at one of the women running the booth. She was a little older than the princess, her hair a royal blue.

"Lots." Allura replied, laughing breathlessly. "What is... this one?

She held up one of the buttons, monochrome with a streak of purple.

"That's the ace flag."

At Allura's confused expression, she added, "the asexual flag."

"Oh! Okay, I know that one, um..." She must look so silly, the little straight girl who doesn't even know the flags, but she was curious enough to ignore her embarrassment.

"What about this one?" She asked, holding up a second button.

"That's the pansexual pride flag." The woman replied.

Okay, well, that's a new word.

"What's that?"

Oh gosh, was that rude?

Allura felt relieved, if embarrassed, when the women laughed a little.

"It's like... if someone is attractive, they're attractive. Pansexuals could be attracted to anyone, regardless of gender, I guess is how you could explain it." She said.

Oh. Huh.

"OUCH!"

Allura dropped the button back into the container as Romelle yelped.

"You alright?" Sven asked.

"Yeah, just pricked my finger." She said.

"Do I need to kiss it better?"

Romelle snorted and playfully shoved him. Still giggling, she asked, "Did you find a button you wanted?"

"No, but I don't need one. The pictures are good enough momentos." Allura replied, shrugging.

That left them with six buttons that they paid for before heading their way to their rendezvous point, a little cafe just around the corner.

Keith and Lance were already there, the former beaming at them and waving frantically to get their attention.

"So, how'd it go?" Keith asked, sipping his soda. He had a new rainbow heart sticker stuck to his cheek.

"Delightfully!" Romelle replied, sliding into a seat at the table.

"It was really something, wasn't it?" Allura said. She was exhausted, but in a good kind of way.

Pidge and Hunk arrived some time later, and the team headed back out into the summer sun. All the sudden Allura felt less tired, like she was missing something important, something she couldn't leave behind.

"Oh! I think I left my camera back in the market. I'll be right back!"

Before they could reply she was off, dashing back down the street.

🏳️‍🌈

They said their goodbyes to Romelle and Sven before cramming themselves back into their car. Hunk gave a sigh of relief, fanning himself with the rainbow fan he had gotten at some point.

"All that really takes it out of ya." He said breathlessly.

"I dunno what you're talking about!" Said Pidge as he popped a jawbreaker into his mouth.

"You're gonna rot your teeth out of your head!" Keith shot over his shoulder.

"Am not!"

"Let him live, Keith. He still just has his baby teeth anyway." Said Lance.

"DO NOT!"

Allura laughed, still toying with the pan pride button in her pocket.

#dotu #80s voltron #My writing

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zonevevo · 5 years ago

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12 High Fashion Trends to Dupe

High fashion typically sets the standards for the trends that circulate in the fashion industry for the following year after fashion week debuts in Paris, New York, and Milan. While many sit by the runway admiring the model’s graceful walk stunting the newest high-end attire, or sit at home flipping through

magazine pages, pointing out their favorite designs of the season, few get the opportunity to actually wear the particular pieces designed by the fashion greats. This is due to the daunting price tag that follows the fashion industry. High fashion brands such as Gucci, Chanel, Dolce and Gabbana, and Prade all differ in unique designs, but relate in expense, making the common man unable to purchase and flaunt much designer attire. While there is no way to receive the products themselves without paying the price, some trends are easy to replicate and dupe for little to no expense. Regardless of your income, you should be able to walk down your street in style. The following list includes 12 high fashion dupes for those wanting to rock the look without breaking their bank account.

1. Headscarf

The high fashion industry has been utilizing headscarves for a variety of different styles of attire. From cultural representation to women’s rights, brands such as Gucci, Hermez, and Dior have utilized head scarfs as a symbol for specific societal statements. Now, headscarves have become significantly more popular in the fashion industry and are circulating as a mainstream trend. A simple headscarf can be purchased for under $10 on Amazon.

2. Tech Wear

A recent trend to hit high fashion brands is tech wear. This attire is typically made out of polyester fabrics and lays lightly on the skin. It is typically made in either a dark grey color palette or a bright neons plethora of yellow, greens, and oranges. Tech wear is also known as camping gear. Less expensive and more known brands such as Patagonia carry nearly all tech wear, and the material is commonly purchased for outdoor purchases. This being said, a recent trend has sparked in which tech wear can be worn whenever, giving off a futuristic vibe. A simple way to dupe this trend is by purchasing an inexpensive neon puffer jacket. These can commonly be found in thrift stores or shops such as H and M.

3. Monochromatic and Color Blocking

An easy trend to dupe that costs little to nothing is monochromatic outfits or color-blocked outfits. The basic idea of monochrome is to wear an entire outfit made up of only one color. This outfit will typically include different shades of the same color, however, sometimes the coloring is entirely unanimous. This gives you a sleek look and is typically pleasing to the eye if done well. If you wear a lot of one color this trend can be easy to dupe by simply piecing together specific clothing items you already have in your closet to come together as one in a monochromatic format. Color blocking, on the other hand, is the opposite of monochrome, in which you choose two to three contrasting colors and base an outfit off of those. This can also be easy to recreate as long as you pick sharp contrasting colors from the fashion color wheel, and keep the tones of each chosen color consistent. For example, a bright blue, and light pink would not be good color blocking, but pastel blue and pastel pink would be.

4. Animal Prints and Plant Patterns

If you know anything about high fashion, you know of the iconic animal prints and plant patterns utilized within the fashion industry. Most commonly known for their extravagant designs centered around nature, both the brands Gucci and Dolce and Gabbana began this trend and have kept it up. Less expensive stores such as Urban Outfitters, H and M, and Zara have replicated this trend allowing nearly anyone to dupe it if you have the right eye. If you want to give off a high fashion nature vibe, look for shirts or jackets with tigers, bees, and unique flower designs because these will be the most similar to big brand name designs.

5. Mixing Patterns Up

The fashion industry has been known to come out with some whack designs on the runway, and weird patterns are nothing new. Try mixing up typical patterns such as stripes and spots, or floral and gingham to give off a unique, high-end look.

6. Camp

In 2019, Anna Wintour said “camp,” and the Met Gala was roaring. Although many did not understand the message or look of camp fashion, Wintour had a specific look in mind that was founded and achieved at the 2019 Met Gala. Camp is the idea of piecing items together that should look bad but ironically don’t. Camp also centers around the ideology of evading tacky fashion designs and accepting any look. Although this may seem difficult to pull off, Camp can be easy to find and flaunt. By shopping in your local thrift store and searching for interesting items that may typically be out of your comfort zone and combining them with other rare finds, you can create the camp outfit of Anna Wintour’s dreams.

7. Cyber Girl Versus E Girl

A recent trend circulating on social media and fashion is the idea of an “E-girl” which is essentially a reinvented version of a girly goth. Little do most know, this trend has been around for a very long time, however it is referenced as a cyber girl. Brands such as Moschino have been centered around this style since their creation, making the edgy punk look go viral. This has developed into modern-day media through brands such as Dollz Kill and Nasty Gal, allowing the purchase of Cybergirl products to become more obtainable price-wise.

8. Industrial Boots and Skull Stompers

Many influencers such as Emma Chamberlain have paved the way for the everyday wear of Dr. Marten’s industrial boots. Previously known and seen in the high fashion industry as skull stompers, brands like Dr. Marten allow for a basic everyday wear boot that gives off a fashionable, and edgy look, while still remaining affordable.

9. Wearable Art

A new trend that the brand Prada recently created is the idea that fashion products should be made and sold similar to art. This means that each piece is handcrafted and designed similar to a painting, or sculpture. Although many less expensive brands do not have the resources that Prada has to make this idea fully come to fruition, brands like Zara have attempted recreating this idea. Another way to dupe wearable art is to make it yourself by enhancing basic clothes such as jeans or simple blouses with your own creatives stitching or artwork.

10. Back to the Basics

Recently high fashion has gone back to the basics in which brands such as Balenciaga and Chanel have revisited simple designs that typically only include a black and white color combination. This gives off a clean, high-end look, and is luckily extremely easy to replicate. Brandy Melville, Zara, and other brands of the sort are known for their basic style in which you can pair nearly any shirt from the brand with nearly any pant and it will match.

11. Eye Wear Everywhere

The high fashion industry seems to be a strong believer in the phrase eyewear everywhere. Regardless of the outfit, sunglasses can be a staple accessory to nearly every look. Forever 21, Urban Outfitters, and Charlotte Russe are less expensive stores that tend to replicate the sunglass trends that are set by high-end brands.

12. Throwbacks and Comebacks

Although fashion trends come in waves, high fashion loves to surprise their followers by bringing back an old trend that failed in the fashion industry at the time it came out. This can be easy to dupe simply by purchasing vintage clothing from thrift stores, or wearing older trends as a statement.

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jxckspxcer · 5 years ago

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Micro Headcanons. Color Feelings.

Blue. Childhood favorite color, super comforting, sparks nostalgia for open ice and open skies and waters. Light blue is his favorite shade, but he feels most people associate light blue with children or just, softer (more optimistic and friendly,,,) individuals. That’a sensitive color! Though he’d argue it’s also like the bright blue flame of a torch or arching sparks. But he loves bright clear blue waters and clear blue skies. Night sky blue is also good though, and the dark churning ocean. Blue tea is one drink he loves just for the comfort of it’s appearance. He also doesn’t really see it as a sad color. Gold. Current favorite color. Prestigious, ostentatious, flashy, important. Gold makes a statement and it makes him feel regal. Jack wears more gold when he’s trying to show off. Yellow. Yellow is okay, but mostly as an accent. No Yellow cannot be used to replace GOLD, the SHIMMER is IMPORTANT, and gold is more coMPLICATED than YELLow. Yellow is too cheery, it has to be offset by other things. Like red. Red. Lucky color. Jack just likes it. He’s a little colorblind, so Red can be a bright red or a muddy maroon, but either way it’s a color that makes him feel.... powerful. Confident. It’s his hype color, it makes him giddy, he wears more when he’s in a better mood. It’s bright and attention grabbing, kind of like him. Black. Safe color. Goth is his safety blanket. It’s a shield, it’s a shadow, it’s comfortable and beautiful and inviting. It’s mysterious and deceptive, but invites blind exploration. You might get your hand chewed off, but maybe you’ll make a friend. He replaces his red contacts with black ones in his older verse, but still wears red for villainy. Blacks a professional color. Purple. Dangerous color. Poisonous, overpowering, overwhelming, cloying, purple is the color of snobby aunts, naggy hags and their violet highlights. It’s a witchy color. Only worn for power fantasy, but thinks it’s sort of overrated. Mostly sticks to dark berry shades. Green. Difficult to define. Like red it’s a little muddy, but he’s appreciated green things before. He likes nature and insects and lizards-- But when it’s under his domain. When dragons bite and plants harass and insects posses and witches turn stones into golems, green things have dangerous potential. Green has to be done right, it can be fun (neon! algae! mantises! frogs!), or it can be tricky (sickly green magic and verdant claws). (ironic reasons to dislike: frequently green with envy, hates christmas so green/red clashing wouldnt be his favorite, people compare him to the joker hhwh). He likes a nice dark green, he always has, and neon green is just classic, but other shades don’t really interest him aesthetically. White. Sickly, cold, ghostly, fragile, haunting, romantic, tragic, plain, empty, a blank canvas, a mask, porcelain, ivory, clinical, bland. Whites a color that gets a lot of love and a lot of disdain simultaneously. He rather not wear much of it, if ever, and being surrounded by it just drives him up a wall of irritating. But his make-up includes a white cream paint for a long time, just cause he was already pale enough to pull it off. It just makes him feel less weird than putting on a shade that just can’t seem to match his transcluscent grayish skin tone (though when he stops being able to his veins under his eyelids and stops flushing so splotchily in his midtwenties, he becomes a little more comfortable with an actual skin tone). It’s the opposite of the dark, it’s part of the duality of monochromes he loves, it can be rather regal with marble and porcelain and pearl. But he prefers it to be with black or red, not so much alone or with other colors.

Other Color Hcs. (Gold & Blue). (Gold Goth).

#notes.#hc.#[colors not covered that i will probably edit later for: pink- brown]

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ask-elementalhermitcraft · 6 years ago

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Chaos Combined

Characters: False, Scar, Cub

Genre: Hurt... it’s just hurt I’m sorry

Summary: Everyone is a little on edge during the war. It’s best not to sneak up on people.\

The battlegrounds were quiet for the first time in a while. Each team was rebuilding, fixing what was broken for each of them physically and otherwise. False, on the other hand, was set for recon and supplies gathering.

The ashes of grass disintegrated under her boots, staining the brown leather grey on the soles of her shoes. There were hundreds of arrows just strewn about, wasted if they weren’t going to be picked up. She carried a bucket of water in one hand and a bag in the other as she slowly cleared the field of the flint heads.

She wandered in the middle of a large cluster of arrows, ashes covering the ground and staining the cuffs of her shorts as she kneeled down to tear them from the ground. She shook the dirt off, dropping the arrows into the bucket. She heard the embers that clung to them sizzle.

As she gathered what spare supplies she could, she held herself in hypervigilance mode. At any moment there could be an attack. If they did so now, she would be stuck in the middle of where arrow fire clearly hit. She kept a foot up, ready to run at the slight sign of danger. She felt cold power pool in her fingertips. The more time she spent in the middle of danger, the antsier she got to leave it.

A faint noise caught her ears. Wind blistering through elytra. Something inside her comforted that it wasn’t feathers but the leathery fabric akin to phantoms. Still, her heart jumped, every hair on her arm rising and the power that had been pooling at her fingertips sending a rush of power from her spine down to her hands. As she hastily stood up, she couldn’t get a good view of who it was. Everything seemed to go wrong. The sun got in her eyes, she tripped on an arrow still stuck firmly in the ground, and she summoned her shield in the wrong place, landing on the glassy surface instead and breaking it across the ground. She felt shards cut into her shoulders and arm before the bits and pieces dissolved into nothing.

“Hello there Fal-” a voice she was too panicked to recognize started as she summoned a second shield, this time between the voice and herself.

She felt something hit the shield, it covered the entire surface, trying to poke holes in some places as it pushed against. The energy built up on the surface of the mirrored shield as False recomposed herself. The shield, only a half foot away from her face, was coated in a blue and white swirling color, geometric bits attempting to pop a hole in the carefully crafted shield. She heard grass crunch as someone she couldn’t see took a step back. Her heart dropped into her feet as she realized what it was: Vex magic.

False quickly attempted to lower the shield, disperse the uncontrolled energy that attempted to infect the world around it. When the shield shattered outwards of her own accord, the magic that had attempted toward her shot backward, rushing toward its caster.

The Concorp member who had cast the dangerous aura took the full brunt of the chaotic energy. The impact wasn’t much, but it was enough force to send whoever it had hit falling backward. At that moment it was clear to False who it was. Unable to redirect the impact of magic, Scar hit the ashen ground directly on his lower back. The white-blue mask that had been covering his face flew off, the only thing protecting it from the sticky grey ash being the chaotic aura it held in its frame. Scar let out a grunt of pain.

“Don’t sneak up on me, you conbutt!” False exclaimed, only half joking as she stood up.

She brushed ash and dust off of her clothes. She picked the bucket of water up, some of it splashing against her hands and the feathered ends of arrows tickling her fingertips as it swayed slightly. There was a large smudge of ash on her forearm that she started to attempt to scrub out against the side of her jacket.

“This is a war zone, Scar,” she continued, eyebrows furrowing as the stain was becoming ever more difficult to scrub off, “you can’t just go and sneak-”

She stopped short, casting her gaze over to where Scar was, still on the ground where he was thrown. He was curled inward, ten feet from her with his knees pulled up. His hands were pressed against his face and she heard the faint sound of him hyperventilating. It was hard to process him at all. The ash that surrounded him flew up in particles resembling those of a nether portal. He looked desaturated, but anything blue popped out brightly, like the vex mask that was staring at False eerily. Scar’s entire being looked distorted.

False rushed towards him, any hesitation abandoned. Scar’s form rose and fell sporadically, timed with his breath as it quickened and quickened. As she got closer she felt her body and fingers twitch, her limbs buzz and prickle like they had fallen asleep, and her vision turned completely monochromatic.

Her knees hit the ground, sending more dust particles up towards the sky. She reached towards him, feeling a physical push back as she put a hand on his shoulders. Any grass that hadn’t already been dead was shriveled and gone. She felt her skin become dry and her eyes sting.

“Scar? Scar?” she said, voice frantic as she set both her hands on his shoulders. “What happened? What did I do?”

His breathing only quickened. His clothes felt damp to the touch. More than damp, actually. She tried to focus on him, seeing a blue aura start to form and quickly realizing it wasn’t an aura. Her mouth was dry and her eyes stung. Every time she blinked it felt like it did nothing, sandpaper over her eyeballs and skin that turned white and ashy. The aura wasn’t an aura, it was a bubble of water, pulled from the ground and False’s skin.

False hastily got to her feet, backing up. Her eyes flashed to the vex mask, still staring at her in malice. Scar’s breathing got quicker, more sporadic. The bubble of water grew as False retreated, her steps denting the dead grass as the monochromic aura grew bigger.

She heard the sweeping sound of an elytra coming to land. Heard feet hit the ashen ground running. Her eyes snapped over to a figure in the edge of her vision. Bright blues and dull greys that twitched and glitched as it moved. It snatched the discarded mask off of the ground and came right at Scar.

“Scar, buddy, are you there?” Cub asked, his voice edging off of the calm tone it usually held.

He took Scar’s hands away from his face. His form continued to heave with each breath. With Scar’s hands away from his face, they went to his temples, attempting to hold in the pounding in his head. He looked up at Cub, eyes wild, bright blue and swirling. He couldn’t focus. He saw blurring movement, fuzz in his vision and black coming from the edges. He felt his blood run cold and hot, heart go a hundred beats per minutes and drop to what felt like nothing all within the same ten seconds.

He felt something cold press against his face, blocking out most of his vision except for large slits, tinted white where he could see. Shadows moved outside of his vision. He felt like he was underwater. Was he underwater? He could hear things other than the ringing in his ears for once. Muffled noises, coming from behind a barrier and he knew it was water. A wet blanket covered him and he felt like he was drowning but he was breathing. He was barely breathing. Holding his breath and breathing quick, so quick. He felt his lungs burn and throat sting and water in his eyes, water covering his eyes. His limbs ached and he was so tired. Why was he so tired he had only just woken up. Or did he sleep? He felt like he could sleep forever. He felt his vision go dark and he could sleep forever, he was so tired.

“That’s it, buddy,” someone said from outside of the bubble. He felt cold. “Just rest for a second. Just calm down.”

His limbs were shaking and the ringing in his ears was getting louder and louder and louder and louder. He was so cold and his lungs stung and his vision was no longer going black but bright white and his breathing quickened and his heart got faster and the muffling was bubbling in his ears and he couldn’t hear anything.

Something snapped.

Water fell over him like something had poured a bucket over his head to wake him it up. It certainly felt like that. His clothes were soaked and his chest hurt.

He was still wearing the vex mask. He took it off, feeling it stick to his face and getting sweaty underneath. He blinked, adjusting to the light. His back was against the grass, ash covering his clothes as he stood up. Everything was terribly damp.

What was he doing last?

Oh right.

He looked around to see Cub, who definitely wasn’t there before. He was soaked, also taking his vex mask off to dry it. They were both covered in sticky ash and embers.

Where was False?

He had come down to visit her but had seemed to frighten her, vex magic off its rockers from the excitement of the war. Bustling in the center of it all, next to the crater where the flag came down. He felt energy at his fingertips.

And it came right back at him.

But False was standing ten feet away. She stood on a piece of terrain in the marshy ground that had turned to sand. As he looked around it seemed that the entire radius around him had changed. Patches of snow, of ice, of water, of sand, of gravel, of sand. Some endstone even peaked out behind piles of ash.

False composed herself, feeling the stinging cuts of her shattered shield across her arms and shins. She felt blood trickle down her leg and soak one of her socks as it got down through the boat. She considered them a few more cuts for a lesson learned:

Don’t mess with the Vex.

#elemental!scar #scar #goodtimeswithscar #elemental!cub #cub #cubfan135 #elemental!false #falsie #falsesymmetry #elemental hermits #elemental hermitcraft au #ehcau #hermitcraft #false nails #mod endstone #writings

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beatyoutothepunchline · 6 years ago

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On Getting Dressed

Getting dressed in the morning has always been difficult for me. If I can, I will wear the same outfit four times in one week to avoid having to think about it any longer than necessary. My go-to outfit at the moment is my green and black J-Crew plaid button-down, my high-waisted Madewell skinny jeans with the button fly and my Doc Martens. At this point in my life, I do not ask myself, “Do you think somebody will realize you’ve been wearing the same pair of jeans for the last four days?” but, “Do these jeans look and smell clean enough that if someone were to realize you’ve been wearing them for the last four days, they wouldn’t call you out on it?” If the answer is yes, I will throw on the outfit again. I don’t dress to look nice most days. “Nice” meaning my makeup is done, my hair is straight and parts in a way that frames my face in a flattering way, my outfit is coordinated, cleaned and ironed and my shoes match the vibe I’m going for. When I look "nice" there is generally a vibe I am going for and that can vary day to day. A coat of concealer and a flat iron are nice, but it isn’t really necessary. Some days I run around Chicago in an oversized sweatshirt, with bags under my eyes and my naturally wavy hair pulled back in a ponytail. Sometimes I’m more dressed up, others I’m more dressed down. I’m most comfortable in jeans and a tee shirt and because I tend to get more done when I don’t feel like I’m sticking out for looking good or bad. There are certain days where I have to critically think about my wardrobe as I might an essay or an article for class--interviews, dates, holidays--and those days are agonizing. I would argue there is just as much nuance and subtext in the right outfit as there is in a Hemingway short story. Which is why most fashion related things go over my head. But every now and then, I force myself to stand in front of my closet and edit my wardrobe to what I wear. I’m not a person with many clothes, but there are always a few things I find I can get rid of. As I pick up each piece and I asked myself, “Is this still me?” I stopped to wonder, “How did this become my thing? Is it even my thing, or is it someone else’s?” Like most people, from birth till about I was old enough to make my own decision (and for those decisions to be preferably color coordinated, realistic, and weather/event appropriate), my clothing wasn’t my choice. So none of my clothes were my thing, rather what my mom thought would look cute on me. This is why there is a picture of me in an Angelina Ballerina tee shirts and pink capris with a fairy wand and crown on my fourth birthday, and a picture of me in fifth grade wearing a striped, pink white shirt and short sets from Old Navy while on our family trip to Hawaii, and why my first day of school photo from seventh grade I’m wearing a short sleeved and khaki jacket with a lacy pink tank top and black shorts. I can separate my current wardrobe, almost perfectly into black, white, denim, olive green, and varying shades of blue. I have one pink sweater (which my mother bought me) and while I will occasionally throw it on and wear it around my apartment, I end up tearing it off within twenty minutes because of the I cannot stand the color or cut of it. The reason I wear the monochrome is because I am pale and my skin has a naturally pink undertone. If you flip my wrist over, you can see every vein in my arm up to my elbow. You can see the veins in my feet, in my thighs and my stomach. Wearing, black, white, denim, olive and shades of blue makes the pinkish undertone is less noticable and helps the bright blue veins blend in better. Wearing pink, or bright yellow washes me out and makes weird details intense. As for the cut of it, it’s a cropped sweater with side splits up to my ribcage, on top of being wildly ineffective at keeping me warm, it makes my long torso appear even longer than it is, and it just isn’t me. Nothing in my wardrobe is really “me” though. I came to this realization after glancing at the mess of clothes scattered across my bedroom floor while taking a “break” from spring cleaning this last weekend. Everything in my closet I own because of someone else. I own a pair of Gold Cup Sperry Topsiders because my freshman year of high school there was a senior boy with a British accent who browsed the bookshelves of the library before school in a pair of Sperry’s. In the era of Victoria Secret yoga pants tucked into beat to hell Ugg boots and calf-length Nike socks slipped thoughtlessly into pairs of ADIDAS shower slides on the way out the door, his shoes, as well as the pressed khaki pants and button-down shirts, his perfectly gelled hair, and his accent, captured a kind of class that seemed lost on the rest of the students at my high school. Though my own Sperry’s seem to more closely resemble some douchebag college frat guys than the classy look of Boat Shoe Guy’s, when I look of them I think back to being fourteen, working up the guts to sit at his table in the library, not quite brave enough to say anything, and listening to him talk in what I later found out was a fake British accent about things I can’t remember with other, older people and feeling cool. Not in a conventional way. Cool in a nerdy way I didn’t realize I could be until I met him. When I look at the gold hoop earrings I keep in my great grandmother’s teacup with the rest of my small jewelry collection, I realize that my love for them comes from mother, who wore perfect silver hoops earrings frequently throughout my childhood. When I think of them I think of box blonde hair, and regrettable bangs and her capped tooth smile. I’m the opposite. My hair is dirty blonde, I don’t have bangs (never again after my mom cut thick ones so far back on my head that for several months I had Joe Dirt’s mullet). My hoops aren’t perfect circles and they are gold color, not silver.I don’t look or act much like my mother, but occasionally when I put them on I feel like I can fake that same kind of magnetic charm and try to smile with my teeth like she does. I decide I can pull off the hoops, but not the toothy grin and leave it at that. I own a black pea coat because of the movie Giant. Which doesn’t seem like it would make sense give it’s a movie set in Marfa, Texas, but let me explain. My freshman year of high school my grandma bought a copy of Giant for my dad’s birthday and one day a few weeks after she’d given it to him, I found it lying on the buffet in our living room. Being the movie buff I am, and being intregued by the front cover I decided to watch it. The entire time I just kept thinking the blond guy from the front cover was cute (which, in retrospect, is the dumbest take away a person could have after watching that film). After the movie I decided to Google him and came upon a picture of him walking down the rainy street in New York City. Wet cigarette hanging out of his mouth, collar of his iconic black black pea coat poped. And Where I can’t say I’ve ever fallen in love at first sight, I imagine it’s similar to seeing James Dean in that jacket. In an excerpt from ‘Women in Clothes,’ an anthology about how clothes define and shape us, Leanne Shapton, author and artist, writes of a similar love-at-first-sight feeling she with an Isabel Marant dress she saw a woman wearing at a party, “I admired her hair: worn loose, flecked with grey. And her manner: warm, thoughtful, sincere. She wore no makeup, and the dress, which was sack-like, lent her a modesty I liked. We spoke about our children. Then, in a lull in the conversation, I came back to the dress, complimenting it again. She nodded, knowing. Then I did something that surprised me: I leaned down and picked up the edge of her skirt and touched it, marveling aloud at the light, smooth fabric. I have never touched another woman’s dress like that before. A fur sleeve once, but I’ve never had that grasping, clutching impulse.” In her essay, Sharpton wonders if her feelings she had about the dress “also had something to do with admitting I want something. I’ve struggled with admitting what I want most of my life, not admitting until the last possible moment that I wanted a child. Admitting I flat-out wanted this dress was new to me. I was nervous.” Where I can’t say I relate to the wanting a kid portion of that statement, I can relate to the feeling of wanting something. Wanting to be unique and confident, two feelings I don’t feel like I’ve ever fully had but have just been chasing after my whole life. The reason my go-to outfit is what it is is because of directors like Sofia Coppola and Point Break era, Kathryn Bigelow. There is this picture of Kathryn Bigelow standing in front of a monitor next to Keanu Reeves and Patrick Swayze: white tee shirt, baggy blue jeans, cool boxy shades, and a Reebok baseball hat. When I don’t know what to wear, or when I need to do something I’m not sure I can, I dress up and pretend to be somebody I think can figure it out. Be the woman who can direct a surfer bank heist movie, the woman who can speak French, beautifully while eating a croissant, scarlet lips pouted, Rick Blaine tripping over his shit, the Dude who’s got no idea how the hell things are going to work out, but isn’t too worried about it. Cause maybe things just will in the end. It isn’t an exact copy, it looks similar enough to them that I’m able to capture their attitude, power. . . their magic, but different enough that it’s still me. So I put on my version of that outfit when I don’t know what else to wear because it is comfortable and easy and because I’ve tricked myself into thinking it will inspire some sort of brilliant direction and confidence I don’t feel like I have on my own. Even if it doesn’t do what I think it will and my voice gets caught in my throat and I let someone talk over me, or I get rejected, or I fail and fall flat on my face. When I wear my navy Calvin Klein wrap dress, everyone I know groans and says, “You wear that all the time. Don’t you own another dress?” I do. There is the ombre floor length prom dress that lives back of my closet at my parent's house which I bought because it made me look like Jennifer Aniston, and the crochet white and orange dress that I bought from Urban Outfitter’s because it reminded me of Shasta Fay Hepworth’s orange dress in Paul Thomas Anderson’s Inherent Vice. I don’t usually have the occasion to wear either of these dresses, but the navy wrap dress works for almost any occasion so that’s why I wear it. It creates some shape on my fairly shapeless form, and I like it because it makes me feel like Lauren Bacall. Equal parts sexy, mysterious and classy in a way that I am otherwise not. I’ve never worn it on a date, but I’d be lying if I said if I’d never worn it to a half hour meeting to look “nice” only to walk around downtown Chicago just to see people turn their heads and wonder, “Who is she?” Then, for a fraction of a second, I am the woman I’m not to somebone. When I am at home on Saturday mornings, and my hair is all frizzed out and drooled on and I can’t be bothered to put on actual pants, I walk around in my boxers, oversized and stained Sid’s Liquor tee shirt and a cardigan. I throw on some sunglasses, debate making myself a White Russian and go full-on “The Dude” from The Big Lebowski. Cause it’s hard to relax when you live and work in the same place and I can only seem to do it when I’m someone else. But it is me? Dressing up as someone else might get me through the day, but what if I never take risks as myself? Years from now, will there be some girl who sees a pair of Madewell skinny jeans at the bottom of a pile at a thrift store or finds an old pair of boots that will say, “Oh my god, I love it. It’s so Sidney Thompson.” if I can’t even dress up like her? Am I just a shot for shot remake with nothing new to offer, to contribute, to inspire? Will people see me or will they tease my style apart and say, “Oh, she’s ripping off So-and-So.” I’d like to think I’m more of a Quentin Tarantino homage to all my favorite fashion icons. You can see where I stole, but I’d like to think every now and then there’s someone out there is able to see that part of me poking through one of my costumes and thinks it’s pretty cool.

#essays #theblondefiasco #writing

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cassandra-acton · 6 years ago

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ORIGINS & FAMILY:

Name: Cassandra Alice Acton.

Nickname: Cassie, Cass.

Birthday: November 8th.

Age: 33.

Gender: Female.

Place of Birth: Oxford, Oxfordshire, United Kingdom.

Places Lived Since: London, United Kingdom.

Current Residence: Tower Hamlets, London, United Kingdom.

Nationality: British.

Parents: Michael and Anita Acton (née Redgrave)

Grandparents: Edward Acton (grandfather, paternal, deceased) Renske van Ardenne (grandmother, paternal) Harold Redgrave (grandfather, maternal, deceased) Hélène de Broglie (grandmother, maternal, deceased)

Aunts & Uncles: Kathleen Acton-Fortescue (aunt, paternal) Charlotte, Georgina Redgrave (aunts, maternal) Lambert Redgrave (uncle, maternal)

Number of Siblings: One older sister, Elizabeth Acton.

Relationship With Family: Poor is an understatement. It's gotten to the point where she no longer communicates with her parents at all. Cassie’s mother is—and always has been—an emotionally abusive bully, and even though her father never treated her badly, he also never intervened. It’s hard to see past. Cassie spent much of her childhood thinking she was the problem; that she’d done something to warrant her mother being so obvious about not wanting her. That’s changed now, but the hurt hasn’t gone. Cassie still carries a lot of emotional baggage from her uprettpbringing. Has a lot of self-hate, self-doubt, and averseness to trusting people/letting them close to her. It’s easier to keep people at a distance than to feel the hurt of not being good enough for them too. Elizabeth was never treated in the way she was. She’s the golden child. When Cassie was very young, that wasn’t a problem; she looked up to Elizabeth like she was a hero, and worshipped the ground she walked on, much in the same way she did her mother. But then, as she got older, Anita made sure Cassie knew it. Got enjoyment from pitting them against each other. It absolutely decimated the relationship. Not only did it leave her bitter, but absolutely stripped her of the protective big sister she loved and needed. They still talk, but they aren’t close at all. Elizabeth understands why Cassie feels about their mother. Elizabeth can see everything she’s done. Cassie, on the other hand, still feels like she has to prove she’s better than Elizabeth because her mother always told her she would never come close. That’s enough to make her look like more of an enemy than family.

Happiest Memory: When Harrison proposed to her, without a doubt. That was easily the best day of her life. I’ll write about it someday. Getting her internship at Goldman is definitely second, though.

Childhood Trauma: I mean the parents definitely fucked her up for life, so there’s that.

PHYSICAL:

Height: 5'4”

Weight: 120lbs.

Build: Slim but very fit.

Hair Color: Blonde.

Usual Hair Style: Whilst working she almost always wears her hair up in a ponytail, but she’s not really a fan, and would much rather it down and free-flowing. Keeps it just a little longer than shoulder length because of her dislike of short hair. Is too lazy to style it beyond neatness unless she’s going somewhere.

Eye Color: Blue.

Glasses? Contacts?: Neither.

Style of Dress/Typical Outfit(s): For work: neat, formal, and inexpensive. Lots of form-fitting skirts, blazers and blouses in blacks, whites and nudes. Out of work: a fuck load of jeans. Baggy jumpers, chunky-knit cardigans and quirky shirts. Picks up a lot of her stuff from charity shops because who has time for fucking shopping. I don’t think she’s really the designer type despite having more than enough money to live that kind of lifestyle.

Typical Style of Shoes: Cassie is never without heels in her day-to-day, even at the weekend. Prefers bright colours and eye-catching designs to contrast with her typically monochrome outfits during work. Will happily wear killer heels even when dressed down because they look just as good with jeans. Shoes are about the only part of her outfits she ever spends a decent amount of money on.

Jewellery? Tattoos? Piercings?: The only piece of jewellery she constantly wears is her engagement ring, which she has on a chain around her neck. That being said, she is a big lover of rings in general, and is always sporting a solid combination of regular and midi. She has four tattoos. ‘Hip to be Square’ in tiny font on the inside of her right wrist, Gaff’s unicorn on her left hip, Harrison’s birthday on her left shoulder blade, and a matching tattoo she got with her friend, Jessica, back in school, on her right forearm. Each got a hand from The Creation of Adam. As for piercings, she has her left ear pierced twice, her right five times (one daith), as well as her navel.

Scars: A thin scar that cuts through her right eyebrow; a result of a drunken night out in university during which one of her friends fell down the stairs, and dragged Cassie with her. She actually rather likes it. Also has several scars on her torso from being shot in her apartment by Russian nationalists. You can read the self para here.

Unique Mannerisms/Physical Habits: When she’s stressed, she has to play with her hair; pulling it, twisting it, whatever. It’s about the only good indicator she’s about to rip your face off because she will do that shit with a smile. She’s also a bugger for biting at her nails, so she purposely gets gel extensions to stop herself doing it.

Athleticism: Very high. Cassandra naturally has a lot of energy, and so expends a lot of it keeping fit. Rowed competitively for LSE, and still competes regularly with many of the girls from her old crews, as well as having joined a new rowing club. She also plays a lot of rugby, though never competitively. Loves running and endurance, and almost always competes in the Tough Mudder when it’s nearby, as well as taking part in the London marathon annually (something she and Harrison made a tradition of doing together.) Also gets involved with a lot of charity races.

Health Problems/Illnesses: I think she’s battled serious depression for a long time, though she’s far too proud to ever get it officially diagnosed. Cassie also has both polycystic ovaries and endometriosis, which is a miserable combination. They come with their own sets of issues that she has to battle with, the worst of which is the mental hurdle of her possible infertility.

INTELLECT:

Level of Education: MSc in Economics and Management from LSE. Cassie finds studying relaxing, however, and often self-teaches about subjects of interest in her free time. Currently, she is working on a course in Arab Finance.

Languages Spoken: English natively, Dutch fluently, thanks to her grandmother. French and Mandarin intermediate. It determined to take up learning Arabic at a later date.

Level of Self-Esteem: Very low. Her mother drummed the idea that she’s worthless into her so convcingly, moving past it is very difficult. It’s why she aggressively overcompensates with an arrogant attitude. Partly to convince herself that she’s making progress, but mostly to convince others that nothing’s wrong at all.

Gifts/Talents: Surprisingly, she’s actually a good violinist. It’s about the only thing she has to thank her mother for. Cassie also has a solid talent for being able to manipulate others. Wrapping people around her finger has got her far in life.

Mathematical?: Absolutely. Cassie loves numbers. Math was always her favourite subject at school, and easily the one she was best at.

Makes Decisions Based Mostly On Emotions, or On Logic?: Usually, emotions, though she tends to berate herself afterward, because she knows—especially given the career she has now chosen to pursue—that she needs to learn to be more logical.

Life Philosophy: Someone else is happy with less than what you have.

Religious Stance: Was raised Anglican, but isn’t particularly religious. I think she likes the idea of God more than she actually believes it.

Cautious or Daring?: Daring. Naturally, she’s a spontaneous person, and I don’t think being cautious really lends to that.

Most Sensitive About/Vulnerable To: Being told she’s not good enough. Being criticised when it comes to her work. Being compared to her sister. People bringing up what happened to Harrison. Terrorism in general.

Optimist or Pessimist?: In between, leaning slightly toward the pessimistic side.

Extrovert or Introvert?: Extrovert.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Current Relationship Status: In a very secret relationship with Silas Agreste.

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual.

Past Relationships: Before Adam, the only person she’d ever been in a real relationship with was Harrison. They on-off dated their whole young lives. They briefly broke up when he joined the army and she went to university because they were worried about ‘distance’ but wound up missing each other too much for it to be a permanent thing. Dated one guy briefly, Matt, a few years after his death, but it scared her so much it took her a long time to try again. The break up with Adam was complicated because neither of them wanted it. His party made him pick between leadership and her, and whilst he was content to choose Cassie, she was terrified he’d end up resenting her for it down the line. It was her that finally convinced him to go for it, and it might be one of the most difficult decisions she’s ever made.

Primary Reason For Being Broken Up With: None.

Primary Reasons For Breaking Up With People: Not having moved on.

Ever Cheated?: Physically? No. Emotionally? During her relationship with Adam, it’s safe to say that’s dubious ground.

Been Cheated On: Not to her knowledge. Adam was still sleeping with Spencer’s ex-wife, Evelyn, when they first started dating, but it doesn’t really count given that they weren’t officially together at that point.

Level of Sexual Experience: Cassie’s slept with four people in her life, so limited-ish. Harrison, Matt, Silas, and Adam.

Story of First Kiss: They were ten. His name was Richard and she honestly only kissed him because all of the other girls wanted to. Bragging rights.

Story of Loss of Virginity: The first time she and Harrison tried, they’d attempted to make it a ‘romantic evening’ that wound up being so awkward, they couldn’t stop laughing. Eventually, it happened spontaneously at a school social after party he’d come home from Oxford to meet her at.

A Social Person?: Absolutely. Even though she needs some time to herself every now and again to process all the shit that’s going on in her life, she couldn’t go any extended time without her friends. Being lonely terrifies her, so Cassie has to be in a pretty bad place to cut herself of from people.

Most Comfortable Around: Cassie feels truly comfortable around few people, but Jessica, Nora and Spencer top the list. Jasper, too. They are the people she couldn’t be without. Her old friends at Goldman are still like family to her, too, so they get an honourable mention. Cassie is comfortable around others like Alexis, but would probably still be hesitant to share some things with them.

Oldest Friend: Jessica Mirzoyan: a friend she grew up with in Oxford, who followed the exact same path in life as Cassie. They both moved to London and studied at LSE. The only difference is Jessica works for J.P. Morgan. She can’t remember a time in her life when Jessica wasn’t in it, they’ve known each other for so long. Jess is the sister Elizabeth could’ve been.

How Does She Think Others Perceive Her?: Cassie has an incredibly skewed view of what people think of her. She automatically assumes people think the worst. Look at her like she’s not good enough, just like her mother always did. I think that’s why she keeps most people at arm’s length, because she’s so scared of letting someone in only for them to wind up criticizing her.

How Do Others Actually Perceive Her?: Depends who you ask. Amongst the public, she’s very popular for her honesty. Amongst her colleagues back at Goldman, she’s respected as a professional cutthroat. As for her critics, they probably just see her as a stuck up bitch riding on the back of her sister’s success.

SECRETS:

Life Goals: To help as many people through her political and charitable work as possible. That’s really all she cares about. Personal goals seem fairly irrelevant to her right now, given everything that’s happened.

Dreams: To be happy again would be rather nice. Having children is also incredibly important to her, but not something she thinks about often because of her circumstances. Losing the man she wanted to have a family with was bad enough, but so was the fact they tried for so long with no results. I think she wonders whether it just isn’t meant to be for her, which is sad. That’s definitely one she buries.

Greatest Fears: Polystyrene and spiders. Why do either of those things exist?

Most Ashamed Of: How bitter losing Harrison has made her. How she still hasn’t been able to get over the anger and the hurt it left her with. How she knows she should be ashamed about how her relationship with Silas started (an affair with a married man) but isn’t.

Secret Hobbies: Cassie kind of loves to knit. It’s a good stress reliever when she’s too tired to go running. Not that she’d admit to it, mind you. She’s also not very good. All she can make are the really simple scarves.

Crimes Committed (Was she caught? Charged?): None.

DETAILS/QUIRKS:

Night Owl or Early Bird?: Night owl. Begrudges being alive in the mornings and has to go for a run to wake herself up, or will possibly murder people.

Light or Heavy Sleeper?: Heavy sleeper.

Favorite Animal: Hedgehog.

Favorite Foods: Steak. Cheese and crackers. Orange jelly.

Least Favorite Food: Avocado.

Favorite Book: American Psycho – Bret Easton Ellis.

Least Favorite Book: The Great Gatsby – F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Favorite Movie: Gladiator. Blade Runner.

Least Favorite Movie: Shitty horrors in general.

Favorite Song: Mr. Roboto – Styx. If you play that to her, she doesn’t just sing along, she fucking performs it, okay. (Honourable mentions for The Boys Are Back In Town – Thin Lizzy, and What Is Love – Haddaway.)

Favorite Sport: Rugby Union. Cassie can get shouty about rugby and is a very dedicated Saracens fan. Also a loyal supporter of the English team, and Danny Care’s ultimate fangirl.

Coffee or Tea?: Tea.

Crunchy or Smooth Peanut Butter?: Neither, thank you. That stuff is nasty.

Type of Car She Drives: A dark green Mini Cooper.

Lefty or Righty?: Lefty.

Favorite Color: Pink.

Cusser?: Pretty badly, although she does well to hold her tongue in public most of the time. Cassie has had a few slip-ups that made the headlines, though. Luckily the general opinion was that it made her seem more normal/relatable, and it went down well with voters, if not her critics.

Smoker? Drinker? Drug User?: Never used drugs. Occasionally smokes if she’s incredibly stressed and has been drinking, but otherwise, she finds it kind of gross. Drinks fairly regularly. More so lately.

Biggest Regret: Letting her parents fuck her up so badly. Cassie wishes that she hadn’t taken it so much to heart, now that she knows better.

Pets: The love of her life, Brody the Corgi. More recently, she got him a little sister, Sarah. Also her hedgehog Éclair.

#i added enough to this to warrant a repost #reblogging myself would look ugly too #i want everyone to update/post one of these thank you!#they're solid chardev starts #character development #make sure you're reading others as well as posting your own #i will do a masterlist of them eventually

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