#snooty camel

[elijones94]

🐪 “In the beginning of years, when the world was so new and all, and the Animals were just beginning to work for Man, there was a Camel, and he lived in the middle of a Howling Desert because he did not want to work; and besides, he was a Howler himself. So he ate sticks and thorns and tamarisks and milkweed and prickles, most ‘scruciating idle; and when anybody spoke to him he said ‘Humph!’ Just ‘Humph!’ and no more.”~ How The Camel Got His Hump 🐪🐎🐕🐃 🧞

[neppednep]

Ravel Phenex w/ Gremory Reader

"Help. I'm addicted to Ravel again." - Me, 6/14/23

Ravel Phenex w/ Gremory S/O, Part 2 (Coming soon)

》 The youngest and the only daughter of the Phenex clan could be a bit spoiled and entitled at times, even if she was usually well behaved. Getting told ‘no’ was something she was far from used to, as her older brothers and parents gave her pretty much anything she wanted. Luckily, she never really asked for anything too crazy, and when she was refused something, she got a bit snappy and that was about it.

》 There was only one time in particular she can remember getting bad, to say the least. Bad as in setting your older brother and various objects on fire, going on a hunger strike (that lasted a whole two hours), and just being an overall nuisance or jerk to anyone who tried to interact with you. What was all that about? It was about a little crush she had. While quite comical now, Ravel still looks back on it and slightly dies of embarrassment.

》 Of course it was all about her childhood friend, Y/N Gremory. Ravel didn't really talk to too many people outside of her immediate family, not counting the servants as she didn't really think too highly of them. Since devil birth rates are astronomically low, there weren't too many devils around her age either. That combined with the situation going on between the Gremory and Phenex clans, it was inevitable the two crossed paths eventually.

》 The two would often hang out, playing together while their parents did the boring political stuff. Being one of Ravel's only friends at the time was cause for some... interesting situations. There was almost never a dull moment when going along with her antics, not that you really had a choice. Whether it was trying to bake (almost burning down the estate) or trying to reclaim things she 'borrowed' it was fairly fun with her, even if she is a bit snooty.

》 Yes, Ravel is one of those girls that 'borrows' a lot of your things. You would think being able to get whatever she wants, she would just get her own, but no. She enjoys taking things that belongs to other people, especially when it belongs to someone she is definitely not in a million years starting to get feelings for. Usually it's nothing too big, just clothes or something small... except that one time she borrowed your pet camel.

》 The two of you got pretty attached fairly quickly if Ravel casually robbing you didn't make that obvious enough. It was more uncommon to see the two of you separated, to the point you practically lived together, consistently staying at each other's houses. Anything from homeschooling to training, you did it together. Ravel was always competitive, even if you were a friend, she didn't want to be left behind. It was a constant competition, the two of you constantly pushing each other to new heights trying to one up the other. Though, it was fairly obvious what was going on to anyone looking in from the outside.

》 It took Ravel much longer to figure out those feelings herself though. She was smart, but her pride often pushed her true feelings aside for the sake of proving how good of a devil she was. She was the youngest daughter of the Phenex clan, surely she could have anyone she wants, but...

Ravel let out a deep sigh, her the tip of her index finger tracing circles on the rim of her teacup. Her bright blue eyes were locked onto the table in front of her as if in deep thought.

"Is something wrong dear? You've been spacing out a lot lately."

Ravel's gaze shifts to her mother whose sitting across from the table from her. She's a bit embarrassed at being called out like that, but she knows it's her mother so it's not too big a deal. She takes a second to gather her thoughts before slowly nodding. "There's a boy that-"

"Y/N, right?" Lady Phenex questions with a small smile. Ravel didn't even need to answer, her blush telling her mother everything she needed to know.

"Yes, it's him. I just..." She takes a deep breath. "I really like him but I don't know if he likes me back. He's all I really have and I don't want to ruin it."

Ravel's blush only deepens as Lady Phenex laughs at her. "Seriously, you act much more mature than some of your brothers, sometimes I forget how old you really are."

"M- mother! This is serious!"

"Yes, I know." Lady Phenex nods. "Listen, you have nothing to worry about. If I didn't know any better, I'd say the two of you already have something going. You're a beautiful young lady and anyone would be lucky to have you. I'm not saying go out and marry him, but you're still a devil. Be greedy, Ravel. Go get him before someone else does."

Ravel only huffs, she crosses her arms but the small smile growing on her face shows anything but annoyance. "Of course, mother. I already knew that. But... thank you."

》 It didn't take long after that little pep talk for Ravel to see you again. When she did the young blonde already had went through this in her head dozens of times, a metaphorical, and probably literal, fire burning inside of her. She had no problems taking things she wanted in the past, and she wasn't going to start hesitating now.

》 However, Ravel didn't ask right away. She didn't want to just walk up and start yapping. She was a lady and had to time this right. It was nearing the end of the day, the artificial moon was already in the sky, a gentle breeze blowing aroung the two of you as you sat on the roof of the Phenex estate after a long day of classes. 'It's now or never.' The young Phenex thinks to herself before turning to you.

"Y/N, I've been wondering something. Are you planning on getting your own peerage?" Ravel questions, her voice steady, even if she felt like her heart was going to explode.

You look at her for a second, a bit confused at her sudden interest but nod. "Yeah, can't imagine I'll get as lucky as Rias did with all her pieces, but I think it would be fun. What about you?"

Ravel shakes her head, her twintails swaying as she does. "No, I don't have any plans to at the moment."

"Oh..." You hum, now a bit confused at why she bought it up in the first place. "Is there any reason you wanted to know."

The Phenex nodded, determination flashing across her face as she continued. "Y/N, we've known each other for a long time now. I really trust you and I hope you trust me just as much." She pauses. "When you do get your evil pieces, I want to be your queen."

Your eyes slightly widen as her request. It wasn't really unheard of for nobles to serve others, but Ravel of all people? She was one of the most prideful people you know. Yet, there wasn't really a reason to not believe her. While you wanted to just agree, you felt like there was something more to this. You were proven correct as she continued.

"Before you answer, I want to fight you." That was definitely not what you expected. You two have fought a lot in your training but you knew this time would be different. Honestly, even Ravel herself didn't know where that came from. She wasn't huge on fighting, but she felt like she had something to prove. She didn't feel like it was for you though, herself maybe?

You knew you already had your answer, but the look in Ravel's eyes told you she wasn't taking no for an answer. You couldn't help but smirk as you stood up, holding your hand out for her to take. "Fine. No holding back anymore. Got it?"

Ravel had a smile of her own as she took your hand and pulled herself to her feet. She didn't say anything. She didn't have to. As you two began walking to your usual training area, she knew no words needed to be exchanged at this point. That's what this fight was for.

Not even gonna lie, this story is some scuffed spark notes version of a full story I wanted to write a year or so back. I think it turned out pretty well though. Part 2 will be more relationship stuff as opposed to build up. I've been in a DxD mood recently so it should come soon enough.

PS: The camel's name is Humphrey. That really isn't important but I was giggling like some schoolgirl when I thought of it. I need sleep.

PPS: MY GIRL IS CAKED UP!!!

That is all.

[saysthenightingale]

nightingale discovers warhammer (3/???)

thoughts this time include konrad horse, a genshin impact detour, and erebus hate

just realised today that warhammer is made by the british and suddenly everything makes way more sense.

learned more about the Situation that guilliman is in and watched the trailer where he's talking about the tyranids. no wonder he has ultradepression, especially with the way the last words his dad said to him were not even a coherent sentence

status update: still coping. sanguinius is alive in my heart

saw a comment that went "if i was in a room with horus, erebus and a bolter with two rounds, i would shoot erebus twice and then beat his corpse with the bolter" and while i do agree with the sentiment... well, realistically, i would shoot myself first

if i could lift and shoot a boltgun well enough and fast enough to hit my target, i would shoot erebus twice. i wouldn't be in a room with him. he would be in the room with me

does erebus have any fans please be honest

konrad curze reminds me of a horse. yeah i know he's a bat but bats are cute and fluffy (to me. i'm insane.) horses are so unhinged and full of evolution-enhanced hysteria that if a camel farts in egypt while temperature is at 31.5C they will just spontaneously go "okay, i clearly only have one option left: kill everyone in this room and then myself." and they WILL do it. sometimes they just die because fuck you

if konrad curze isn't a horse, why does his last name slant rhyme with horse, huh? konrad horse

"magnus the red would get along with nahida from genshin impact" is the worst thing i've ever said but i stand by it. a knowledge seeker, psyker and scholar like him would in theory get along with the psychic, dream-walking goddess of wisdom. his snootiness and arrogance would piss her off, but she managed to rehabilitate a war criminal mommy issues full-of-seething-rage puppet who canonically is shown as a soggy sad kitten and tried to kill her while he was using the object embodying her godhood to take over her beloved country. while she was freshly broken out of the prison where she was kept since she was born. she can deal with magnus.

the story where the tau try to fuck with a raven guard's brain is so funny. wdym he just gave himself a heart attack. he gave himself a fatal cardiovascular event. that is so insane, this would not fly in any other setting. this is something a horse would do

genestealer cults are fucking sick and the fact that a mindless swarm that can just be dialed down to "we hungry, we evolve" is such a massive threat against empires and civilisations is fantastic

[mwolf0epsilon]

Wolffe Sweep. Forever bearer of the Curse (not being able to handle C3PO's shenanigans) Y'all are ruthless to the poor guy. Hasn't he suffered enough?

Either way, you know the drill. I'll drop my 2 cents right here and now.

The important thing to note on this hypothetical scenario is that the mission they're being assigned (besides being a month long) is either a diplomatic thing, or a relief mission. Hence C3PO's presence. We're talking one of those "give them your best costumer service smile" kind of missions where the commanders CAN NOT lose their shit in public.

The priority is keeping their Jedi generals, potential escort, and their translator droid safe. That just also comes with the extra baggage that is C3PO's fussy and anxiety-riddled self adding a bonus level of stress to the whole affair, plus making sure R2D2's bad attitude and batshit insane shenanigans don't cause some kind of a diplomatic incident (not that he'd cause trouble without it being justified, he's a fine judge of character and a military veteran in his own right).

So how would each commander fare with this? Lets follow the order of most voted to find out!

While it's true that Wolffe gets easily annoyed with 3PO, he's also got something on his side for this entire mission: Experience dealing with both of these droids. Sure he'll grumble to himself, roll his eyes, and want to tear out his hair on occasion, but if he's managed whole relief missions with these two in for the ride before, he can handle another month of it.

Will probably bitch a bit in the command batch private comm chat, but that's a given. Wolffe is a bit of a gossip anyway. He might even offer some funny stories about whatever R2 gets up to, to balance out his frustrations with 3PO.

Next up, we've got Fox who doesn't have the best track record with droids. That said, he does have experience dealing with something just as, if not more, annoying than 3PO's fussy nature: Politicians. You can't tell me Fox wouldn't have protocols/methods to deal with diplomatic escort missions like these. He has to contend with the likes of Jar Jar Binks klutz-ing about in the Senate building, and even deal with Padmé getting up to shenanigans on occasion. Hell, he's probably been around 3PO long enough that he can tune him out easily.

Between dealing with snobbish politicians that don't seem to know what's good for them all day, and dealing with two trouble-magnet droids for an entire month? He'll take the droids.

Cody is also not gonna struggle as much in this as you'd think he would. Someone who deals with both Kenobi and Skywalker regularly enough that he is in the good graces of R2D2 (look at him kneeling to talk to R2 eye to optical sensor! That's respect my dudes!), is not gonna struggle on a month long mission with the former, nor his anxious and snooty husband.

You could argue that 3PO is the straw that breaks the camel's back, but Cody is just as batshit as R2 and probably sits down with the astromech to bitch about people that annoy them. Probably have a chuckle at 3PO's and Kenobi's expense because the two are on the same level of endearingly annoying.

If Wolffe is the one on the mission, Cody is eating up the R2D2 adventure tales because that's his bitching session/drinking bud!

I'm sad to say, but Gree is the one I think would break not even a month in. It just makes sense to me considering who he works under. He's used to highly competent, calm and collected company like Luminara and Barriss. And while you could argue that he also worked with Yoda on occasion, Gree is professional enough to understand that Jedi work in mysterious ways... And sometimes that means talking in riddles and riding on your men's back like a pint-sized jockey with a laser sword.

R2D2 and C3PO however are anomalous weirdo droids that cause problems for no apparent logical reason, and that would either leave him completely stumped; infuriate him to no end because he's trying to keep things running smoothly; or it'd just drive him up a wall because what did he do to deserve having to wrangle these two???

Where Wolffe just grumbles and bitches in the command batch private comm chat, Gree is having a minor mental breakdown and everyone is watching the show. Cody and Fox are definitely eating it up while cackling to themselves like the menace gremlins they are.

I don't think I need to say much about how Bly would fare in this situation. You can't tell me Bly wouldn't deal with it swimmingly, considering his battalion and Jedi general get some of the more hazardous planets on their mission rosters. I'm also 100% confident he's met Quinlan Vos at some point, and that this encounter has left him a changed man. One capable of dealing with so much bullshit thrown his way.

If anything Bly would consider this mission a mini vacation of sorts, and he'd just not be bothered at all by R2's and 3PO's usual shenanigans.

Probably sends pics to the command batch private comm chat captioned as something along the lines of "those two are exploring each other's coding for sure" or "d'awww droid love!" because he's bored and wants to start an argument on whether or not R2 and 3PO are married or not.

Last but not least, Ponds!

If you think Ponds would crack under the pressure of managing a month long mission with R2D2 and C3PO as tag-alongs, you're sorely mistaken. This man has the patience of a saint.

If he can deal with whatever goes on in the command batch private comm chat, he can deal with a menace droid and his trophy husband. End of debate.

[pepsimaxolotl]

ALSO SHINO MY BELOVED

[theflyingkipper]

why Rebbeca look like she almost has Gordon's attitude 😂 but anyway she look so good on your drawing style

ohhh thank you 🤗💕

making her look a bit more snooty/uptight was my intention, I dont like her bland happy-go-lucky personality

if we can show love to ONE snooty express engine, why not two ? and also because *ahem* girl characters who act arrogant rarely get redeemed or appreciated in spite of their attitude. and I feel girl characters in thomas kind of get stuck with this :) im nice personality, and I would like to give them more distinct attitudes because... girls have just as much variation and depth as boys why is this something that needs to be said

ANYWAY here is my take on rebecca in writing (+some of her development and relationships with other characters, especially Nia)

In my headcanon, Rebecca is more of a "little miss perfect" type, she has a clean record, excellent performance. shes a modern light pacific and she knows it . Her attitude actually drives Gordon a little insane because Rebecca seems to be stealing sir topham's good graces from him XD

(Thomas tells him not to be such a hypocrite.)

Rebecca has a few glaring problems that she masks with anger or indifference. she has mechanical trouble (wheelslip mostly) that can get especially bad sometimes, and if anyone points it out she tries to pretend she heard nothing.

[I like to think around this point (I should mention I dont have a clear timeline for anything I make I just have vague estimates of decades/time periods because ill make my head explode if I try) which is about the late 70s, is some years after Emily arrives. I really like the idea of Emily being a replica of a stirling single, rather than an original because its fitting of her attitude and ive seen a lot of REALLY detailed headcanons of it by various people.]

Emily and Rebecca butt heads at first. Rebeccas shiny and modern, while Emily's a thing of the past- and not even one deserving of high regard because she's a replica! The two start off HATING each other and Emily doesn't have anything nice to say about her to the rest of the fleet. And it's not like Rebecca has had any compliments to give either! She calls Rosie a latrine-mouthed three-humped camel.

Nia at this time is being switched around between jobs, and while Rosie is out of service, she gets to be station pilot at Tidmouth for a while.

(I HC that Nias paintwork and general upkeep wasnt too good before she was rehomed on Sodor, and at this time she's been NWR blue since her arrival)

Rebecca initially thinks the engine who will take over Rosie's shunting duties is Thomas, since she's told a "little blue engine" will be arriving to help. Since the last impression Rebecca had of Thomas was him telling Gordon not to be such a hypocrite, she expects he'll be waiting on her wheel and axle.

She realizes there's more than one little blue engine, and is surprised to see a long engine with 8 wheels, a cowcatcher and extra cylinders. Blue with red stripes, but not Thomas.

Nia greets Rebecca with her usual "how are your wheels? how are your axles and boiler?" And even agrees that her "three-humped-camel" joke was funny. Rebecca starts off thinking Nia's going to kiss up to her.

She is wrong 💕

Nia knows a thing or two about dealing with grumpy sticks in the mud.

Rebecca, several times, tries to push Nia's buttons. She implores "aren't you tired of pushing coaches around all day? Don't you want to see the world?" And expects Nia to get all puffed up. Nia says she's been all over the world, and likes to stay in one place for a change.

Throughout Nia's time as a station pilot, she learns that Rebecca is actually very insecure, and she can see how her wheels spin painfully if she starts too fast. She points this out once and Rebecca, who's been trying to hide this, and is at her wits end that day, just blurts out that it's nothing, nothings wrong with her.

Rebecca ends up damaging her drive wheels and axles after she fails on Gordon's hill and is shamefully sent for repairs at Crovan's gate. and Henry pushes her to the works.

While Rebecca's being loaded in, Henry tries to be kind and tells Rebecca that it isn't her fault she was built the way she was. Rebecca thinks:

what would you, a big strong Black 5 know about that? Aren't you lot Stanier's swan song?

She's achingly tired of engines noticing her faults, especially ones who perform mechanically sound and clearly wouldnt know a thing about what fronts she has to put up to stay respectable. She's pleasantly surprised (though she doesn't show it) that Henry does, in fact, know exactly how she feels.

Rebecca's damage is more severe than originally thought, and a more extensive overhaul is planned. She's hoisted in the air and much of her chassis is detached.

Meanwhile, Nia arrives at the works for maintenance and a new coat of paint. Rebecca watches from above as Nia's repainted in KUR colors.

Rebecca: That's a... distinct color. It's quite becoming. Nia: was that a compliment I heard? From you?

*Rebecca has to keep from spluttering.*

Rebecca: ...I know a nice livery when I see one.

Nia: (grinning) maybe you should get repainted to something nice and bright too. Like a bright yellow and red.

(She looks across the works at Molly and Rosie, who are trying not to giggle)

Rebecca: *gasps and scoffs* I like my paint the way it is, thank you very much.

Rebecca comes back from the works a different engine, still prone to bouts of arrogance and uptightness, but a much more understanding engine who doesn't have to put up such huge facades to be respected.

Over the next few years she ends up properly becoming friends with Nia, Gordon, Rosie, Molly, and Emily. I think the idea of she and Emily having a race and making funny banter would be amazing.

See, Mattel ???you can do cool and interesting things with your girl characters and Im only at the TIP of the iceberg with my Rebecca story ideas XD

[bowietracks]

Perhaps it was with Changes that Bowie saw the idea of Hunky Dory coalesce. By which I mean, Bowie was writing songs for what would become Hunky Dory and Ziggy Stardust at the same time, and maybe the creation of Changes was the anchor around which he could conceive of the first of these albums, in the same way the creation of the song Ziggy Stardust would anchor the follow-up. Hunky Dory is not simply an album of songs not fitting in with Ziggy, but an album about transformation, influence, loss, failure and the possibilities of the future. The song is going to go on to be the lead track of Hunky Dory, the only single from the album, have a number of re-releases, and become one of Bowie’s anthems. It’s not just a great song, it’s a song that is quintessentially Bowie. More astute commentators are probably right to raise their eyebrows when the song is seen simply as a manifesto for the Bowie to come – ‘Bowie the chameleon of pop’ and so on. That is a bit anachronistic and retroactive. The song is as much a statement of the inevitability of change, the impermanence of the illusory I, and the way in which as youth we see ourselves at the centre, but (as the poet said) the centre cannot hold… It is thus also a song of loss: look out! And a song of failure – ‘a million dead end streets’. The song collapses the past, present and future into the endless cycle of a life, of life. Yet, those snooty commentators go too far when they resist entirely the idea that this is a manifesto. Bowie is not just accepting impermanence and loss, this is not just passive, but active. Embracing change, letting failure and loss go, transforming it into an affirmation: ‘turn and face the strange’ of the new. ‘Where’s your shame?’ – the past isn’t a glorious bolt hole. The future demands ‘there’s gonna have to be a different man’ that is called Bowie. So, very Nietzschean. In Thus Spoke Zarathustra, the highest transformation is becoming child-like once more (surpassing the camel who carries the weight of the world, and the lion who roars at the world). The child is change, loves change, creates change – the three stutters of Changes. And here is where it began, with this wee demo from mid-1971.

Written by David Bowie. Recorded May / June 1971. Unreleased. Available on bootlegs.

[rmjagonshi]

The Prince and the Streetrat

For the writing prompt from @princeasimdiya12 with her suggestion of Mullet Stan Alladdin Au set in Agrabah. I may have gone a bit over my initial word count estimate. Hence why it took longer than expected. So....sorry?

Gen (no ships), family friendly and all that. 

The Market was unusually busy today. It was off season for much of the local harvests and the trade caravans were coming in by the dozens. Some were even from places he didn’t recognize; their garb and wares colorful and exotic. The number of horses in the public stables was now rivalling the number of camels. The street cleaners and stable hands were running to keep up with the increased workload. The guards were out in full force, but even they were having trouble keeping up with the petty crime occurring sometimes right in front of them.

With all the tradesman distracted and the large crowds, it was the perfect time to gather stock for the week. It had been so long since he was able to get enough food for more than a day. In fact, the last time the market was this busy, the kingdom celebrated the prince’s coming of age ceremony; the day the son of the emperor became a man and could now take his position as ruler of Agrabah. Furtive movement to his left caught his eye; a fisherman was tossing out some rejected pieces of the fish he was butchering. If he was quick or charming enough, he could probably get the fish heads, tails and spines. Not the best, but still meat, and meat was rare for a streetrat.  

The kids and he were going to have themselves a proper feast. With the crowds, he might even be able to pickpocket a few of the richer folk, might be able to get Mable a new dress, or at least the fabric to make one. He was good with a needle and thread, but he had never actually made clothes before. The boy was getting taller, too. He would need to conserve fabric to accommodate the two growing children in his care.

Silently, he swung down from the awning he was perch atop, shuffling across the decorative eves and dropping down to the dusty ground in a narrow alley. He checked to make sure the handholds he had carved into the wooden supports were spaced closed enough to make for a quick climb; he’d left his bag up top, it did no good to have all his ill-gotten gains with him if he was ever caught. He’d grab a few things here and there and make a trip back to deposit it. If anything happened, Mason knew where the drop bag was and knew when to collect it. Smart kid, not quite strong enough to make it on his own, but the boy was young still, he had time.

On the ground he had to be careful. Being a streetrat had more than its fair share of disadvantages. Wearing the same clothes everyday made him easy to spot by the local tradesman; he was hoping there were enough newcomers to allow him to lose himself in the throng. He glanced briefly down at his worn clothes. The color of his leggings reminded him of sour milk, the patches doing nothing to remedy the terrible dye choice, and his open vest was a royal blue, almost purple. He loved it, but it was an unusual color and drew too much attention. He would have to be quick.

Three hours passed before he chose to call it a day. He had gotten those fish heads and tails by flirting with the fishmonger’s daughter and trading away a kiss. The poor girl was a bit slow and had one perpetually lazy eye, but she wasn't too bad looking. He might just visit her again. He was able to swipe a bag of millet to make into flat bread, a full basket of dates (that he topped with rejected ones), a full watermelon, couple of eggplants, a pouch of mystery spice he pocketed without thinking, and a full goat leg, already drained. He’d even been able to lift a leather band to pull his horridly long hair back. Mable told him it made him look dashing; he thought she was crazy, but he never cut it knowing he would disappoint her.  

He had a few close calls with the guards; they tailed him for a street or two before he ducked into an alley and shimmied up the side of a residential building and onto the roof. The stall owners gave him no trouble. The newcomers were duped by his dazzling smile and charming personality and he delighted in swiping things out from under them. Local tradesmen were more warry, but waiting for the moment they were distracted by other customers made easy work. He heard from gossip that the prince was being officially crowned heir in a week’s time, and that the celebration would end in a grand ball where he would choose a bride from the neighboring kingdoms. Heck, if it meant he and his family could eat this well, the prince could marry a new girl every week.  

He was tempted to head back down and try picking a few pockets. He had been eyeing the stall, run by a scary old woman he was sure was a witch, all day. She had fabric in all types and colors. Finely woven silk as thin as a flower petal, thick canvas rolls perfect for sleeping mats, and wool spun so fine and clean that he didn’t recognize it as wool. He’s sure the old woman noticed him, he got lost staring at the pale pink wool spool he wanted to get for Mable. The witch had eyed him crossly, her angular face and long nose adding to her menacing appearance.

He was tempted, he was, but the risk was almost not worth it. Stealing food was one thing, you spent a day or two in the dungeons. Stealing money meant losing a hand. But he couldn’t get the fabric any other way. He could just try stealing something from some hanging laundry, but he’d done that last time and poor Mabel was forced to tie it in place until she grew into it.

Alright. Just once. He’d have to really pick his target. Someone who obviously had a lot and wouldn’t miss a small amount. It didn’t take long. A foreigner with large white hair, pale skin and strange pale blue garb strutted through the crowd below, a large coin purse dangling from his waist. He smirked and tracked the foreigner from the rooftops, He dropped down to the street and made his way into the throng of people, maneuvering his way to the snooty foreigner. He found his chance when the man stopped to chide a stall owner over their quality of fruit, claiming that his homeland had much better produce. It was hardy a challenge to lift the bag and disappear in the crowd and up another wooden scaffolding. He could hear the man screaming that someone had stolen his money, but he was already a street over and making his way down to the fabric stall.

He tucked the bag in his vest and lowly approached the old woman, trying his best to act casual. “Back again, I see. Come to try and rob me like you’ve robbed the others?” Her eyes bore into his sole. Her voice was high and screechy and wrapped around him like a miasma. He stood, transfixed, and fought the urge to run. Had she seen him? Did she know him? He had never seen her before. Maybe she was a witch.

He cleared his throat and stepped forward, “I don’t understand what you mean. I am simply interested in the pick fabric you have. It seems of low quality, seems scratchy, but it’s the right color. How much ya chargin’ for it?” He fingered the fabric and tried to look as disdainful as the man he had pickpocketed. But the woman saw through his ruse. She grabbed his wrist and yanked him forwards over the small wooden counter.

“Far more than you can afford, Streetrat!” Her breath stank worse than his, and he couldn’t bathe regularly. He tried pulling back but she held firm. He fumbled with the purse and the coins spilled out onto the counter. “I can pay, witch! Let go!” He struggled against her iron grip, feeling the blood pulse in his veins, faster and faster.

“Stolen coins are worthless to me Stan! You shall get what you deserve! Guards! Thief!”

He pulled harder, he didn’t care about the stupid fabric anymore! This witch knew his name! Knew he had stolen the money! He needed to leave, get his family’s food and get home. NOW!

A six-fingered hand materialized in the space between him and the woman. A gentle voice filled his ear as a second warm hand settled on his shoulder. “Now, now. That won’t be necessary.”

The witch released his wrist at once, attention now focused on the newcomer. Stan pulled his wrist to his chest and rubbed at the skin. It felt like a she had burned him; the skin was red and tight and looked swollen. He turned to the newcomer and was faced with something uncanny. It was like looking into a reflection. The man’s face was his own, maybe a bit slimmer. Same square jaw, same overly large nose, same high forehead.

“His man was simply trying to purchase something from you. No need for accusations. Now, what was it that you wanted to buy?” The man’s face was soft and open as he turned to face Stan. Stan was disconcerted with the familiarities between them. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. But the stranger had saved him, so he owed the man some courtesy.

“Just some of the pink wool. A yard or so. Probably two ta be safe.” Stan’s voice was strained. He was having trouble bringing out his classic charm. He was unnerved and he just wanted to get out of here.

“Perfect. How much for two yards of the pink fabric, miss?” The stranger smiled at the witch, nose only slightly wrinkling at the woman’s breath. It was like this stranger had drawn all the charm from Stan for himself. Stan decided he didn’t like him. He was dressed well, too well. A businessman, or even a council member. The sand colored robe the stranger wore was made of fine thread, tightly woven together. This man was exceedingly wealthy, despite his deformity. Though, if Stan was being honest, the extra finger was kind of fascinating, in a weird and morbid sort of way.

“Sixty coins. It’s the finest I have save for the silk.” The woman’s screech was painful to the ears and made Stan flinch. Sixty Coins! That was insane! No trader worth their salt would charge sixty coins for wool. He didn’t even know if the white-haired man he had stolen from had that much. He hastily began counting the coins, making small piles of five to keep track. Even though he had more money at his fingertips than he had ever had before, he was still woefully short of the price necessary to get Mabel a new dress. She was grossly overcharging. He swore under his breath.

Stan’s posture slumped. He didn’t even have enough to buy one yard. His eyes skirted the dusty street in hopes that he might have dropped a coin or ten. Nothing. He heard a clink of coins on the counter and watched in stunned silence as the stranger counted out sixty coins with ease and tucked away the purse that still held far more.

“That should cover the cost, yes?” The man pushed the pile of coins to the woman. She scooped them up and let them fall into a pocket sewn into the front of her robe before pulling out a pair of shears and a leather strip to measure with.

“You don’t…have to…” Stan stuttered. He really didn’t want to take charity from this man. He didn’t like owing favors to people, especially people he didn’t know yet. Bu the man was insistent.

“Nonsense. It’s quite alright.” There was that gleaming smile again. Teeth clean and face smooth, this man was very wealthy indeed. It might be in Stan’s best interest to befriend this stranger. It might prove lucrative.

The witch pressed two yards of cloth wrapped in burlap into the stranger’s hands and he accepted it graciously. The stranger nodded to him and started to hand the bundle to Stan when the sounds of the guards carried over the crowd. The stranger glanced over his shoulder, flipped his hood up quickly and tugged Stan by the hand and into the masses.

This stranger was on the run from the law, huh? Ok, maybe he was starting to like him. He left the stolen purse on the witch’s counter.

Stan took over leading and made his way back to the alley he started from. The stranger was still hanging onto the burlap bag and seemed to have no intent to hand it over.

“By the way, I never got your name.”

“Stan. Yours?”

My name is S… is Ford. You can call me Ford.”

Stan raised his eye at the obvious cover, but instead took Ford’s hand, gave it a quick shake and let go. “Well, nice meeting you. Thanks for helping. It’s yours now, so I’ll be goin’.” He didn’t wait for Ford to leave before starting his way up the building to the roof where his drop bag was.

“You going to hurry up? You’re slow.” Stan heard a chuckle below him and nearly lost his grip whirling his head around to see that Ford as climbing up after him. He heard guard voices close by and understood. Once he reached the top, he turned back around and helped Ford climb onto the roof. He made no mention of the extra finger.    

Stan flashed Ford a knowing grin when the man peered over the edge of the roof to check on the guards. Anyone on the run from the law was a friend of his. Well, not everyone, but heck, he couldn’t exactly judge. They waited a few minutes, watching the busy street below as the evening encroached upon the desert kingdom. The wind swept over the two men, catching at Stan’s long hair that had come loose from the leather band and pulling Ford’s hood down around his collar. They hadn’t said much to one another, but Stan was surprisingly comfortable with the company. But it was getting late, and the kids would be getting worried if he didn’t make it back soon.  

The man pulled a crooked face when Stan pulled out the bag of goods and threw it over his shoulder. “I aided a lowly criminal? I should have let that woman call the guards.” However, Ford’s actions belied his actions when he tied the burlap wrap around his torso and made to follow Stan.

Stan snorted. “Hey, man’s gotta eat. I’d work if I could, but no one’ll give me a job.” It wasn't exactly a lie; he had never been offered a job, but he also had never tried to get one. He had lived his life on the streets, most of it alone. He mother had left one night to gather food just as he was doing, and never came back. It was another reason he wanted to make sure he made it back tonight; the kids didn’t deserve that.

“That much food for one person? I’m not letting you out of my sight. What did you need this fabric for, anyway? Reselling? Smuggling? I think that purse was stolen. You know, you people are the reason why the economy is failing.”

Stan rolled his eyes. The guy kept talking, but be he was still not making any moved to call the guards or arrest him. He placed a plank of wood over the gap between buildings; he wasn't going to play acrobat carrying this much food. And he didn’t think that the smart guy could make the same leaps of faith he made on a daily basis.  

“You commin’?” He didn’t wait for an answer and made his way across the alley. He heard Ford follow hi snot long after.

They weaved in and out of rooftops and shimmied down the sides of buildings, over rubble and into the oldest part of town. They walked and climbed for nearly an hour; they passed by street urchins and beggars trying to carve out a living in the collapsing streets the populace had abandoned. Ford felt disquiet following this criminal. He was greeted by many people, beggars and children alike. Stan paused a few times and handed out food from his sack to those who looked sick. They watched Ford closely, but gave him wide berth. As much as he was uncomfortable, Stanford realized that he was in no danger walking through these streets as long as he was with this…with Stan.

They snaked through a maze of ramshackle alleys until they reached an open square of what used to be an academy. Stan lead him through a collapsed stairwell, dodging fallen wooden support beams and brushing aside cloth hung to give privacy. Stan held his hand and guided him over a few weak areas that shifted under his weight.      

He heard voices ahead, two distinct ones. They sounded young. The whispers rang out and bounced off the stone walls. Stanford heard a sound that he might have attributed to a chicken being strangled. He heard Stan sight ahead of him and mutter something under his breath.

“It’s fine, kid, it’s just me. We’ve got a guest. He’s safe. I brought dinner.” They mounted the last few steps and came to a landing that may have been a central gathering area for students once upon a time. The walls were decorated with tattered fabric and ancient parchment covered in paint and drawings likely created by a child. There were mats on the floor mad of palm fibers and a few toys made of broken pieces of wood, metal, and bits of string. Pieces of wood and stone were pushed together into some semblance of furniture, a stack of chipped bowls, flat pieces of pottery used as plates and wooden utensils sat on the sill of a window that had been boarded up. Piles of cloth sat in a corner beside a wash bucket beside a hole in the floor. A curtain was tacked onto the wall to act as a privacy barrier.    

When Stanford saw the two children run up to the streetrat Stan, all the anger at seeing this man take so much from hard working men and women dissipated. This man was just trying to feed his family the only way he could. He felt shame at putting so much value on such a small thing as a yard of wool. The children were frantic over Stan, asking him if he was alright, if he had gotten caught, what took so long, who Ford was, and what was in the bag, was it all food? Ford could tell these children were hungry; they weren’t starving, least not the way the children they passed on the street earlier were starving, but they were still likely going without meals more times than not. They were thin and gangly, and likely older than they looked. Stanford placed their ages somewhere between twelve or fourteen. He placed Stan at around twenty, closer to Stanford’s own age. If this was the criminal classes in the city, then his father was being purposefully blind to the social problems in his kingdom.    

“For the girl?” Stanford asked, pulling the burlap sling off his shoulder and lifting out the pink fabric. The little girl, nearly a woman, squealed in delight and rushed over to him; stranger or no, the prospect of something pretty was too alluring. She carefully fingered the cloth slowly, like she couldn’t believe it was real.

“Stan, did you steal this?” She asked quietly, eyes flicking up to Stanford, unsure of what she could say in front of him.

“You know that can get you into more trouble, right? Food is one thing, but anything that really has value will get the guards on your tail faster than you could blink.” The boy was more warry of Stanford and hung back to help Stan unpack the assortment of food he had swindled and stolen.    

“Thank this guy, Ford, right?” Stanford nodded once. “He was the one who paid for it. Wasn’t cheap either. That woman was inflating the price ‘cause the prince is throwing some kinda party.” Ford felt himself freeze at Stan’s mention of the celebrations in his honor. He had been trying to escape the city and do some investigating in the desert when he came across Stan and the saleswoman. He had no interest in the feasts or the parading around and showing off for the foreign officials.    

Warm brown eyes looked up at him with glee and adoration, with maybe a hint of shyness. Her eyes catching just a hint of the light peeking through the gap in the ragged tapestry covering the giant hole in the wall. He couldn’t help but smile at her, something about her just filled his chest with warmth and affection. He knelt down and set the fabric in her hands like a prized treasure.

“Here you are, m’lady.” A faint blush rose to her cheeks, but she took the compliment in stride.

“Why thank you good sir. And my, what charming manners you have.” He smiled at her with ease and she smiled back with equal intensity. They shared a quiet giggle between them and exchanged names. He complimented her on such a pretty name and told her that the name Mabel meant someone who is kind and lovable. She blushed and giggled again.

Ford caught Stan and the boy rolling their eyes and putting together a fire to cook the goat leg and make a decent stew with the vegetables. Ford stood to help, but Stan waved him off. A tug on his robe brought his attention back to Mabel.

“Do you want to see some of the designs I came up with for this?” She held up the pink fabric and looked into Ford’s eyes with hope. He could tell she didn’t have much chance for company other than Stan and the boy, and she was having a hard time saying no to her. Her enthusiasm and cheerfulness was infections.

“Sure. What did you have in mind? Something modest or more flashy?” Her eyes sparkled at his answer. She took him by the hand and lead him over to her little corner. “I had a few designs in mind, actually. You look like you might know a thing or two about fashion what with the jewelry and the quality of your clothes. You can tell me what might be in style.” Ford let out a nervous laugh, he had forgotten about the earrings and gold pendant he wore. He was surprised no one had tried to mug him. But if all the thieves were like this tiny family, well, jewels were the least of their concern.      

Stanford did not expect to find himself in the company of the lowest class of people in his kingdom when he left home. He did not expect to help a poor man purchase a gift for his daughter and find him a criminal by necessity. He did not expect to share in their ill-gotten feast and spend the evening telling stories of wild escapades surviving on the streets and hair-raising adventures overheard from tavern goers. Stanford had few stories he could tell that wouldn’t give away his identity, but he could at least tell them about learning how to ride a camel when he was younger and how he now lived in perpetual fear of them even though he was required to ride them for ‘work’. He also told them of all the strange and mystical things that existed in the desert and even pulled out a leather-bound journal he was working on to catalogue all that he found. They boy, Mason, was fascinated by the pictures, but was ashamed to admit that he, nor his sister, could read all that well. Books were nigh on impossible to come by without money, even in a defunct academy.

“Hey, by the way, I noticed that you and Stan kinda look alike.” Mason had said, trying to hide his face behind Ford’s journal; he was looking at the sketches Ford had done of the spiraling pits of quicksand Ford had come across in his explorations.

“Yeah, now that you mention it, you two kinda do look alike. What if you’re long lost brothers?” Mable said in delight, rushing over to Ford and mapping out his features with her fingertips.

“Mable, stop, you’re embarrassing yourself.” Mason sounded more like he was the one embarrassed, and Mable stuck her tongue out in response, but did stop and return to her seat. “She is right, though. You two could be brothers.” Stan waved them off and dug out the watermelon for dessert.    

The large hole in the wall was really just a missing wall covered with a variety of cloth tacked to the wall on either side. It provided a beautiful ambient light and an amazing view of the sun setting behind the palace. Stanford tried to show enthusiasm, but the reminder of his future only seemed to suck the joy out of him.

When the children had gone to sleep, bellies full and heads equally full of stories and prospects for food tomorrow, Stanford found himself sitting in comfortable silence with the strange man he never expected to meet. He was reluctant to leave, and only did so long after the sun had set and Stan sat dozing against the frame the wall-sized window made. He stuck to the rooftops instead of the streets to find his way back, climbing over the palace wall with the aid of a perfectly concealed rope he had hidden earlier that day. He gathered some old things in a pile before he fell asleep that night, dreaming of pink dresses, narrow streets, and goat stew.  

Stanford made it a habit to venture back to that abandoned landing on the old part of town everyday leading up to the crowning ceremony and subsequent bridal choosing. He fully admitted he was avoiding it; not because he disliked women, far from, but he was in no hurry to marry a stranger just to satisfy his father’s need to be a grandfather. Besides, the mysteries of the desert still eluded his grasp and he had so much yet to learn before he settled down. His liaisons to the abandoned part of town was eating into the time he could be spending searching out answers. But he found he didn’t mind.  

He brought food, and books, and old toys for the children and brought companionship for his new friend. He and Stan would sit for hours and just talk about anything that happened to catch their interest. Stan was uneducated, but he was wicked smart about how to read people, how to avoid trouble and how to de-escalate conflict. The few times Stanford thought to bring up politics and law, Stan was quick to comment on what laws seemed to work and which ones only provided loopholes for the corrupt to exploit the lower masses.

While neither one ever discussed it since the first night, Mason’s comment that they looked alike still resonated in the prince’s mind. He often found himself staring at his reflection and analyzing his features, comparing them to his companion’s, and to his father’s. One night, he finally built up the courage to ask his father about the possibility of illegitimate heirs. He found his opportunity when his father began discussing his new duties as crowned heir. This was his chance.

“Father, I’ve been going over the old laws, and, while I know that I don’t have any siblings, I wonder what would happen if I did? How would that change the crown order? I read something that if the siblings were close in age, a high council vote would choose the heir, is that true?”

His father paused, letting his fort drop to his plate before looking his son in the eye. Or, maybe, the emperor always had a thin black cloth tied around his eyes for reasons unknown to Stanford. He had learned as a young boy to never ask. Filbrick was a hard man, and an even harder emperor. He desired physical wealth above all else and felt that any man could earn his way to wealth through hard and honest work. He cared little for knowledge unless it brought him more wealth and status with the neighboring kingdoms. Stan, and the children, was just the type of person his father wanted to drive out from the city. Stanford could feel the seconds pass like hours waiting for his father to speak.

“Yeah, it’s true. And I don’t know if you have any siblings. I never kept track of the number of of servants I bedded. Come to think of it, there was one girl that came forward about twenty years ago. Claimed she had borne a son from me. I recognized her, but she was a liar and a thief, so she was ejected from the palace. I never found out if her claims were true.” Filbrick resumed his meal, indicating the conversation was over.

“I…I have a brother?” Stanford refused to let it go. The possibility, the chance that he had a sibling, that he may very well have met his sibling, was too much of a pull to back down.

“I don’t know, nor care. If he’s as much of a liar and a thief as that woman, then he’s likely one of the surge draining the lifeblood from this city.” Filbrick was angry and bristled at Stanford’s insistence to continue the topic. His face smoothed a bit as he remembered the mystery woman. “Shame too, I liked her, she was feisty and didn’t kowtow to my every command.”

But Stanford had stopped listening. He had all the information he needed. Stan had told him of his mother, how she had found the academy building and kept him there as a child, of how she never came back. He told Ford about the stories she used to tell him of working in the palace, of how the halls were painted with gold and flowers and the kitchen was always stocked. She told him about the gardens and fountains and how kind and just the emperor was, if a bit misguided. Stan had told Ford he had seen firsthand what the laws of the kingdom did to people, what people turned to to protect themselves. He didn’t hate the emperor, but Stan felt that their ruler did not understand the plight of the underclass, did not know that hardship of going without and being forced to steal.

Stanford left that night after his last meal. He was supposed to be preparing for the ceremony tomorrow, but this was far too important. He dressed hurriedly and made sure to inform his room attendant that he would not need anything else that night. When the young girl (she was extraordinarily pretty, and unusually intelligent, he may have to bend the laws a bit when it came to marriage) had left, he escaped through the servant’s passage and over the palace wall.

After a week of traveling the rooftops and allies, he was familiar with the route to the old academy and the residents along the way knew him enough to leave him be. He wanted to help them, but he could do only one thing at a time, and after his crowning ceremony, he could intact proper change. But, for now, he just needed to find Stan and the kids. He dropped down from the roof to the deserted square and entered the academy. He could hear voices above and the crackling of a fire. He was just in time for dinner. Shame he had already eaten. He had grown to love the simple stew Stan made – he always made sure to bring gifts or ingredients to cover his portion, he wasn't completely devoid of logic.

He heard the voices stop as he mounted the stairs. A poor imitation of a chicken echoed off the walls and he returned his own, more recognizable call. “’Bout time! Was wondering when you’d come. Thought maybe you’d finally gotten lost.” Stanford chuckled at Stan’s thinly disguised worry. He saw Mason pick up the book Ford had given him, eager to impress the man with how quickly he was learning to read. But they all froze when he mounted the last stair into their tiny home.      

He stepped out of the shadows and removed his robe, letting the light catch his regal garb and reflect back a prism of colors in the tiny room he thought of as ore a home than his own. Stan’s eyes were blown wide, hair loose and piece of moldy bread left forgotten on the pottery piece he used as a plate. Stan recognized him now, or his clothes, at least. He worn this to all his public appearances, which is why he chose it for tonight. The children recognized him too, he was sure of it when Mason stopped in his tracks to greet Stanford. Mable clutched the doll he had given her and stared.

Stanford dropped the robe and crossed the room in a few quick paces. He stopped in front of the man he had come to think of as his best friend, one he hoped would now become his family.

“Stan,” He felt tears well up in his eyes as his took Stan by the shoulders and felt a smile split his face in two. “I have something wonderous to tell you.” Stan blinked and swallowed once, uncomprehending the sight before him.

He could hear the children whispering frantically back and forth. He caught only a few words. He embraced the man before him. The man that looked so much like him, the man that he had come to care so much for. The children he had come to love dearly in such a short period of time. He felt Stan slowly return the embrace, still stunned and visibly shaken. The words escaped Stanford’s mouth before he could stop them.  

“My brother.”  

[dreamsanddreams88]

We bought chickens AND bunnies at the same time, really hectic,I was tryna cuddle the bunnies but they would bite sometimes. At one point, in AC origins game trying to hide in a house full of Roman ppl from one of the phylakites that was killing everyone indiscriminately, very scary. I was female character, did the cool thing where i cut ropes on a chandelier and rode the other rope up onto something, one handed. Then i was in airport with alex, we had gone to Japan but then I got freaked out cuz of Corona and we both forgot towear masks

I was in a thrift store and didnt like any of the stuff I grabbed so I went to put it back n leave cuz I was only on lunch break anyway, the shop girl made snide remark about my hair needing to be dyed? She was like, thanks for coming in, come back when ur hair doesnt suck or something. I said fuck you and your orange hair, cuz it was dyed red and faded, but I stuttered n she made fun of it. But then she followed me cuz we all had to go to some meeting? N she was a little nicer. Sat at these tables waiting for alex, we were about to see a show with a drag queen. It was in a mall or something

Was at west again but getting lost, then was back in 4th grade maybe? Looking for new class? Then I was starting to date alex but someone else like jenna was in the room with us, he was spooning me but trying to be secret, jenna thought we were fucking, also I took a shower w him but needed another one, I had taken like 3 showers that day. I was staying w my family somewhere in hotel maybe. Then saw this girl I thought maybe was his ex katie, creeped on her instagram she actually was mixed black girl w blonde hair, was cheerleader n basketball player, really badass and mean. Brian lemaster was in there somewhere. Ar some point I started drinking juice boxes filled with milk before remebering I was lactose intolerant

Dreamed I was signing up for a matchmaking service to get married? It was via snail mail, and it was all girls who were mostly indian I think, or maybe bosnian. One girl was named Imina and sent me some of my writing that she edited, I found it very snooty and rude. Also had accepted someone else before seeing I had a letter from her. Also something with different video games that were scary, but all took place in the same house. One was 5 nights at freddy's themed, one was victorian ghosts, etc.

Was going on charter bus with work and other ppl, were leaving my old house. Kept forgetting my earbuds, went back in to see maids deep cleaning the whole place. Bus went out into cold winter wilderness? I made friends w bus driver, guy looked like william h Macy a little bit. Then i was Rey, kylo ren had captured me and was gonna make me squirt bleach into my eyes so I'd be blind, fought him off and escaped thru the back of a cupboard. He was on island surrounded by stormy sea, freezing cold, and big blocks of calcium formations kept crumbling into it. Force ghost Luke Skywalker appeared to me to tell me death was real but I could escape. Then I was with jenna or sarah, went to hotel looking 4 my parents, nice old ladies were telling me they saw my lost mittens or something? I brushed them off super rude

Was in big house with mafia family. Lots of cars n helicopters falling out of sky, crashing thru glass ceilings. Trying to leave the house, calling business guy when a car falls on him owned by one of the mafia guys. Smthn with a chef from the house, hes really strict when teaching kids how to cook, indian food cant have lemon juice in it? I was licking the glaze off raw chicken and salmon

Was in Laos in war zone, Belgians were bombing the shit out of it and these rare plants called dragon plants were burning, it was way sad. Then it was xmas at parents house but also dads bday, had to help mom take down all xmas decor temporarily until we could open dads presents. Also I didnt trim my zucchini plants and one was like 12 feet tall. Then at work taking break on some huge metal train. Also something about being in some state or royal building, running or hiding from someone

Was with alex in old doornbos house, he was asking me who was in my "network" meaning who had I slept with. I said a bunch of people and he got mad, I was high and tried to explain it was in the past not current. Then I was in theater at the high school across the road, had an improv scene with abby thomas but hadn't rehearsed at all. Went to rehearsal, everybody from hs was there, dawson was teacher, saw shelby drive past. Then smthn about walking bay in the mountains, were super high up in the snow and saw other ppl walking dogs

Something about having traded bodies with ian brauer when we were younger? Or not even traded, I had somehow accidentally possessed him and then had to go to school and pretend like I was him, and then only when I concentrated really hard I went back to my own body which was passed out on the floor of my room.

In a school, had brought imhotep back 2 life n he brought back his gf so we tried running and hiding. Then he was darth Vader and he caught me. Then dream about being on wild ferris wheel kinda ride with mom and Lauren who was sometimes aunt ellen, then in a family of talking dolphins whose step mom was a whale, the dad was joking about how him and the mom might perish at the bottom of the ocean. Then something about a demon possessed lady

Scary dream 1st where I was out walking at night in the forest, looked kinda like lower area of ECOS. The light in a street lamp didnt work, had to use flashlight. Alex showed up with bay who was now a white shih tzu, a frat guy in skeleton costume ran over to scare us. Then I lived in this village/tribe, everyone had hotel rooms kinda. I was back in town going to everyone's rooms, my mom had a room next to mine but she was gone somewhere. Then we were playing guitars, I picked up someones weird acoustic base to try and play. Then I got invite from JC, him and his friends were having a joint wedding in 2026, invite looked like DND character sheet. I was in the forest when scary evil ash cloud exploded out from the ground, kinda like in neverending story or moana. Ran back to village and was safe inside this like, sacred circle? It meant that I was actually the next in line to be the tribal chief. The tribe purposely kept everyone's parentage a secret so it was like the whole village was our parents, but this meant my dad was this one rando young guy who wasnt even the chief? Anyway he hugged me and it was emotional. It meant I had this prophetic duty to defeat these creepy evil eels like in the little mermaid. The water/ocean was this weird quad, with each quadrant being a different depth and color blue. I had to scuba dive to the bottom on a certain date to fight them, matthew/mikey was gonna hold my breathing tubes or something? If I tugged twice he could pull me back up.

In world where mr bean guy was a king n had lots of bodyguards, he was taking on corrupt religious mormon police like in Utah who rode camels and abducted like 500 people for slavery.

Had private teacher lady for something, 8 of us. I couldnt concentrate on test. She gave me spare key to let her dog out, i go in her house and the skylights are open and room full of snow. Then she has dinner party with me, snape, Adonis, michelle/jenn, and a doctor. Ends in screaming match, I'm mad cuz Michelle keeps flirting w Adonis by dropping shit on purpose and making him pick them up. Then I go to doc about weird vaginal discharge and being depressed, hes kind of a quack and doesnt help or listen. Then I was trying to get job at restaurant but all the servers had been at the party and thought I was crazy. Also smthn bout seeing a concert and shawn goggins was in it, jc and elliot were there and I started laughing at him about how that was a girl he cheated on me with but she turned out to be a trans man so he had sex with a dude

I was in world like video game level, in a class w people. Started in weird castle that had secret passages, and then onto these floating balloons above black holes. Tried to jump from one to the other without falling, very scary. Then with alex in a hallway, waiting for some event to start. We climbed up to ledge where there was like a gem/ring stockpile, I started stealing them. Mcgonagall was there and saw us, I was too afraid of heights to climb down. Then event was starting but it was some creepy cult wearing animal masks, I had to pretend like I knew what was happening

[theymakehistoryarchived]

DISCOVER YOUR ANIMAL PERSONALITY

GIRAFFE CHARACTERISTICS: Good-looking • Confident • Sophisticated • Uncompromising • Snooty SCIENTIFIC NAME: Giraffa camelopardalis COLLECTIVE TERM: A loft of giraffe

THE GIRAFFE PERSONALITY

Giraffes are graceful, well-groomed individuals moving through life with the confidence and elegance that only big game animals exhibit. Michael Jordan is a typical giraffe; Tall, good-looking, and successful, he stands heads and shoulders above the rest of the animal kingdom. In full stride with their long legs pumping, giraffes effortlessly cruise through the day.

THE SOURCE OF THE GIRAFFE PERSONALITY'S CONFIDENCE

Giraffes are not particularly arrogant, but have an extraordinary talent for becoming the center of attention. Although their highly visible frames make them somewhat self-conscious, they would never dream of hiding their height by stooping. Even though they don’t capitalize on their size, giraffes are perpetually worried about what other people think, and they are an easy target for jealous backbiters.

Since most of the giraffe's self-confidence stems from its physical stature, it is fastidious about its appearance, and its tastes in consumer goods are refined and expensive, and lean toward Armani and Mercedes.

A LITTLE VAIN?

Giraffes spend a great deal of their personal time shopping or showing off their latest purchases. They certainly could be accused of being somewhat self-conscious and maintain an aloof posture designed to enhance their image. Giraffes have little need for worldly goods other than personal possessions that serve to enhance their prestige, and would rather own a few prized possessions than money in the bank – so their ambitions are limited to having a comfortable living environment, close friends, and universal admiration.

Their living spaces tend to be untidy, large apartment or sparsely furnished loft being the giraffe's preferred living environment. When (and if) they decide to go to work, giraffes can make a good living with their physical attributes alone – mostly as models or dancers. Their heightened aesthetic sense makes giraffes naturally suited for the creative arts, including writing and acting. But as athletes they have no equal.

Intellectually, giraffes are no owls, but then they've never had to rely on their wits to compete... their graceful presence and charms grant them a serene and gentle passage. When necessary though, they display a sharp wit and an engaging sense of humor.

GIRAFFES IN THE WILD

The tallest animal in the world, the giraffe tops out at eighteen feet. Living in herds with casual social structures, the females and their offspring live separately from groups of males.

The thirteenth-century Arabic writings of Zakariya al-Qaswini declared, "The giraffe is produced by the camel mare, the male hyena, and the wild cow," and the mystique surrounding the giraffe persists to this day.

Some observers believe that giraffes never sleep, although they certainly do, for about thirty minutes a day. Another puzzle surrounding the giraffe is its unusually large voice box, and for a long time it was believed that giraffes were mute. Naturalists are still unsure why such a large voice system rarely gets used.

CAREERS & HOBBIES

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LOVE & FRIENDSHIP

Giraffes are archetypal romantics and suitors are in for an agreeable surprise when they first encounter the giraffe's prehensile tongue. Candlelit dinners with classical music and a bottle of French wine make it go weak at the knees.

But like everything else in their lives, giraffes are awfully picky about their lovers and would never dream of stooping below their station. So although they don't have many choices when it comes to marriage, elephants, bison, and rhinos are always delighted to have a giraffe on their arms.

As a member of the cloven hoof society, the obvious choices for long-term unions would be one of the large ungulate personalities including the zebra, horse, hippo and deer. With a shared love of the outdoors -- and common distaste for small hyperactive rodents – they spend hours strolling about and chewing the cud. But, the ideal mate for the giraffe is the splendid sable. This proud animal is a perfect match for the picky giraffe and the resulting union is powerful and enduring.

This isn't to say that a giraffe is incapable of a carnivorous love affair. In fact, some sterling friendships result when a giraffe gets together with a wildcat, wolf or otter. But even with a high level of mutual respect and powerful sexual attraction, long-term marriages between these mismatched species rarely succeed.

BEST MATES FOR A GIRAFFE

Hippo - Horse - Sable 

[sexuallyabused666]

People I don’t like...

Possible Trigger Warning!

And just for a Fair Warning, this post is long, filled with anger, yet strength, and some weakness...Insert as much sassy-frass, smart ass, annoying voices as you want/prefer.  I have kind of put a little guideline, here and there to hopefully make it more enjoyable. Some people have their own preference in people they like and don’t like...   One thing that has gotten to me lately, are the kind of people I don’t like.....  

3 things are stuck in my mind-3 specific kind of people I don’t like: 1) I don’t like liars. 2) I don’t like people who spread rumors 3) I don’t like thieves

This list above doesn’t even touch my whole list of the kind of people I don’t like/can’t stand to be around....  But the list is too long and too boring to continue, so to stay on the subject (which is OBVIOUSLY hard for me to do LOL)  But the reason why I specifically don’t like those 3 kinds of people, is because I have been lied to, all throughout my life, and currently on a regular basis, and made look like an absolute idiot.  There have been people who have spread rumors about me, which since my childhood, have ruined other peoples views of who I am as a person.  Granted, I shouldn’t worry about what other people think of me, but when it is classmates, to coworkers, to bosses, it has the opportunity to ruin me as a person... Long stories short, when I was 13, I got into an argument with my Best Friend (at the time), and eventually her mom got involved when I stopped responding to her negative attitudes, and then her mom started talking shit to my mom, and once my mom stopped responding to Her negative attitudes, my “Best Friend’s” mom took it to a whole new level.... Which was all over the news all the way through my Freshmen year of High School, and ended up being brought up my Senior Year of High School.  Great, right?   When I was in the Marine Corps, I did something a guy I worked with didn’t like (which could be on a range of not talking, or talking, or not wanting to have sex with him when he wanted to, or friend-zoning him) started to spread a sexual-related rumor (SUUURPRIIIIIZE :| ) which ended up reaching my “Superiors” if you will (AKA my Bosses all the way up to the....Manager of the building, so to speak).  Which ended up reaching some other people, who confronted me and I obviously denied, and when I was told “YEeaah right” I looked them square in the face and said something along the lines of “Did I have fun?  ‘Cause I claim my farts, ESPECIALLY when they smell.” *Insert blank face here* (For those who know me well enough, know that this is 110% TRUE; If I fart, and it’s quiet, but that shit STANK, and someone smells it and asks “Who farted?!” I will gladly say “Me” because I made your face crinkle.  :) But if I fart and it’s not quiet but it doesn’t stank, then there’s no guessing there, but I’ll loudly say “I pooted, hehehe” or “Excuse me!” But if it’s quiet and NOT deadly, there is no reason, except to make my husband feel awkward, for me to say anything about it.)

But here is why I bring all of this up.......   (Out of order of how it happened) 3) I don’t like Thieves: I bought something and decided to give it to someone else who lives here, and another person decided it be a great idea to continue their thievery, and steal 99.9% of what I gave the other person.   Well, I’m usually one to turn the other cheek and let it happen, except cigarettes are expensive, and if you can’t afford the habit, maybe you should choose a different one.  *Insert another blank face here* So I called them out on it the same exact day I was told about it (which was the same day the thievery happened), because the person I bought the cigarettes for felt bad.   Person A: Donated Cigarettes Person B: Theif A)1-They have CANCER.   A)2-They were HEAVILY Doped up on meds. B)3-Don’t take something that 3.1-isn’t yours, 3.2-you didn’t get a solid, sober Yes for said item. So that day, the person who stole said “I already bought [them] a pack of cigarettes last week!” 1-DEBRADUDE, You stole more from them in the past week than what you’ve given back, 2-DEBRADUDE, That was MY Money.  So MY Cigarettes that YOU STOLE. In my mind, I bought the pack of cigarettes, decided to give them to someone else, so the person who stole(B)-owes ME.  Not them(A).  

Day 2... 1) I don’t like liars AND 2) I don’t like people who spread rumors. (Person A & B are the same as before)  I was sleeping on the couch when this happened, so I heard some of the yelling.  But when I was fully awake and aware, Person A told me what Person B said.   Basically what happened, B told A that I called B’s work to yell/cuss at them for a pack of cigarettes.  PAUSE, because that’s a rumor twisted lie  1-B’s not my husband.  2-Cigarettes are not an emergency, 3-Even if there WAS an emergency I wouldn’t call B.  (Because B doesn’t care about anyone except B’s self.)  4-My stomach flipped weird when I realized I didn’t say a SINGLE cuss word: Not Damn.  Not Hell, not Shit, Not bitch, which that means I SURE AS HELL didn’t even say Fuck.  5-I may know the name of B’s work but I don’t know which one B works at.  Automotive places surround the states.  And my ABSOLUTE MOST FAVORITE PART, 6-B Called ME. 6 strikes B, you’re not allowed to play anymore. 

When I was informed of what happened with the cigarettes, I texted B saying “Hey are you busy?” and when there was no response for hours, I let it go until B responded.  Well, about 4 hours later, I was on the phone with my Mom, working out some paperwork shinanagins and my phone buzzed, I got a text from someone, I ignored the text, then all of the sudden my phone had the “beep-beep......beep-beep” in the background as a call was waiting for me to answer.  It was B.  I told my mom “Can I put you on hold for one moment?” feeling all special because my phone has a “Hold” button on the main screen of my phone calls.  She said yes, so I answered B’s call and said “Hey man” and B said “What’s up?” I responded VERY CAREFULLY (I know B has a short, untamed temper) “So I uh... Caught wind... that you went upstairs and took quite a few cigarettes and left 1 for [A].  So...you owe me a pack of cigarettes.”  I said it firmly, only hesitated when I could’ve said “YO BITCH YOU FUCKIN OWE ME A M-FUCKING PACK OF FUCKIN CIGARETTES SINCE YOU STOLE A FUCK TON FROM [A]”  *Insert ANOTHER blank face here*  It’s been 9 days since this happened, and it’s sitting in my head, waiting to come out when B decides to talk to me like nothing happened...  What I plan on saying is “I don’t like liars.  I don’t like people who spread rumors and I most definitely don’t like thieves.  And right now you’ve done all 3, so when ever you get the chance, you owe me a pack of cigarettes, by the way, Camel Crush, Silver.  I will not be walked over like a carpet, because I am a HUMAN being.”  *Insert snooty grin here*

I don’t like liars.   I don’t like people who spread rumors I don’t like thieves...... For this post.  

[mayor-of-koriko]

Things I learned playing newleaf

Acnl is the first animal crossing game I’ve ever owned.

1. Beautiful town ordinance is your friend: I can time travel and gain a ton of bells

2. Get familiar with K.K. Slider’s songs: once you get a stereo, you’re probably gonna want something upbeat for ur home. Since he chooses ur first song, I got stuck with a grumpy tango song.

3. Know what type of personalities your villagers are: I lucked out with a mixture of smug, normal, uchi, 1 snooty, and 1 grumpy residents. Apollo considered grumpy, but he’s not even that mean (he’s one of my faves cuz I’m one of the few villagers he’s nice to). 😛

4. Tom Nook: fuck that guy 👎👎 taking all my bells for renovations….

5. Best 1st town project: the only one worth it at first is the campsite. You get visiters who may want to move to ur town. Or u get campers who like to play games. You get a chance at rare stuff for cheap

6. Time travel: get your home renovations/ meow coupons faster than waiting the next day for new tasks (& waiting for ur improved home to be complete).

7. Getting the roost to open up in ur town is harder than I thought

8. Redd’s: fuck that guy. Didn’t know about the possibility of a fake painting till after the fact

9. Camel guy that sells home makeovers: fuck that guy. You’re gonna end up spending 3k on a makeover that makes ur home look fugly and mismatched

10. The closet/fridge/ dresser: not nearly enough storage. If you buy two, ur still stuck with the same amount of space. If you have a 2 story house with a dresser on each floor, that doesn’t work either. I basically bought a second floor just to empty out the Japanese tea room decor/accessories I bought.

11. When u first get ur 2 story house ….the second floor will be tiny (again, fuck u Tom Crook).

12. Is it worth it? Yes. Different levels means different themes and different music.

[baosensteelcom]

Camels With Amazing Abilities To Survive

Camels With Amazing Abilities To Survive

Camels have played an important part in the lives of many people for at least four thousand years, and this is mainly because camels have a wonderful ability to live in places where other large animals could never survive. The body of a camel looks strange to us with 3d mink hair eyelash, skinny legs, tiny ears, huge feet, long nose which puts a “snooty “expression on its face and of course a…

[vdbstore-blog]

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Glam rocks! Why sequins are having their brightest party season yet | Fashion

It is all too easy to throw shade at sequins. Well, not literally, obviously, but for certain fashion tastemakers – let’s imagine them as a cabal of Kinfolk readers who only wear navy, grey and camel-coloured cashmere – sequins are a turn-off. Sequins are not tasteful, in the subtle, understated sense. They seek to attract attention. They are Marilyn, not Audrey. They are Bob Mackie and RuPaul and Jessica Rabbit and Beyoncé on stage in a leotard and Bianca Jagger at the Met Ball in 1974. (I mean, come on, guys. What’s not to love?)

Sequin snobbery is nothing new. In 1955, while accompanying a satin-swathed Grace Kelly to the Oscars, the costume designer Edith Head summed it up with the snooty comment: “Some people need sequins; some people don’t.” This party season, however, even the usually sequin-averse among us may feel the urge to welcome sparkle into their lives.

Céline SS18 show at Paris fashion week. Photograph: Getty Images/Estrop

Sequin skirt, £49.99, zara.com.

Something very shiny is happening in fashion. You expect to see sequins on the high street in November, but this year’s gems will hold the office party to a higher standard. There are pencil skirts in clashing stripes at Zara and shimmering, liquid-like midnight-blue turtlenecks at & Other Stories. These are sequins that do not carry a whiff of Christmas-tree naffness, unapologetically designed to be worn at night.

In designer fashion, even minimalists such as Céline are using sequins, while many others – Dior, Margiela, Victoria Beckham – are deploying sequins’ glam cousins: glitter, rhinestones and crystals. Consider the rise of fashion’s current darling, Michael Halpern, a young designer whose 70s-influenced work has inspired the likes of Amal Clooney to pile on the bling. Then there is the emoji zeitgeist, where the symbol most likely to inspire fancy dress costumes this year – ie, the new flamingo – is the mermaid, a mythical creature with shimmering scales that can only be replicated through sequins. Little wonder that sequins are already key to the new Vogue under Edward Enninful, seen on Kate Moss at the launch party and on cover star Adwoa Aboah in the magazine.

Politicised sequined slogan tees at Ashish’s London fashion week show. Photograph: NurPhoto via Getty Images

Ashish Gupta is the London fashion week designer most associated with sequins, using them on straight-up beautiful dresses and politically charged slogan T-shirts (“STAY WOKE” and “QUEER” look glorious in sequins). “I used to think of [using sequins] as a little bit of a revolt against blandness and boring fashion,” he says. “Now, in light of everything that is happening, I find the idea of sequined slogans amazing, of saying something serious using a medium that is not usually taken that seriously.”

Margaret Laton’s jacket is one of the V&A’s earliest examples of sequins in fashion. Photograph: Alamy Stock Photo

Some of the history of sequins sounds – appropriately enough – a bit embellished. The Smithsonian cites Leonardo da Vinci as a potential sequin pioneer because he once made a sketch for a machine that could punch discs out of a metal sheet. More convincingly, Tutankhamun is considered an early adopter, given that he was buried with gold discs stitched into his garments, presumably to confer wealth and status and ward off evil in the afterlife.

One of the V&A’s earliest examples of the use of sequins on European fashionable clothing is a jacket from around 1610, although, says curator Sonnet Stanfill, “excavations from much earlier periods” have shown the stitching of “coins and precious metals on to clothes to show rank” to be an ancient pursuit.

For Gupta, this history demonstrates sequins’ capacity to become “almost quite a sacred, spiritual thing”. He can get quite deep when he is talking about sequins. He cites French philosopher Mark Alizart’s TED talk about humans’ fascination with blinking lights and the human interest in “fireflies, water reflecting light; there is almost a primal need for light and water. There are scientific experiments that prove that humans are attracted to glossy, shiny things.”

Gupta’s personal sequin references range from Dorothy’s ruby slippers and 80s Bollywood to Leigh Bowery, whose quote – “The reason I use sequins at the moment is because if I cannot cast the light, at least I can reflect it” – is a mantra that has helped him through difficult times. He considers sequins’ rise to be politically timely: “There is such a feeling of helplessness against so many things,” he says. “It could be a response to that in a way, a search for light and higher ground.”

Christian Dior SS18. Photograph: Peter White/Getty Images

For Stanfill, sequins are historically notable for their use by elite echelons of society “as a means of sartorial distinction and a demonstration of the ability to pay for the highest level of craftsmanship”, she says. “They are a wonderful expression of the desire to put your best self forward no matter what century you are dressing – the very human urge to dress up.”

Christian Dior SS18. Photograph: Peter White/Getty Images

That urge has even been dangerous. In the 30s, sequins were made from electroplated gelatin. The possibility of suffering a sequin-based injury was perilously high given that “they would melt when warm or overheated”. Now sequins are more likely to be made of vinyl plastic, although still more technological advances are being developed with the hope of making sequins sustainable. “It’s fascinating how many iterations there have been,” says Stanfill, who sees the many technological advancements as compelling evidence of humanity’s dedication to the cause of self-adornment.

Not all adventures in sequins are successful, given that so many garments tend to develop bald patches by midnight. Sure enough, good sequins tend to be expensive, mainly because stitching them on properly is so laborious. (Check the stitching carefully if you are sequin shopping on the high street. I have it on good authority that hand-stitched sequins are usually knotted individually, whereas machine-created high street versions are likely to be stitched in sections, so that if one goes, the whole section unthreads, like old-fashioned Christmas fairy lights.)

Perhaps the loveliest thing about sequins is that they are best experienced in person. Although they have been popular from the early days of Hollywood – with actors such as Marlene Dietrich using them to create otherworldly radiance – their twinkle and shine cannot be truly replicated through a screen. The app Kirakira was recently launched for this very reason – in an attempt to bring 3D sparkle to 2D photographs on Instagram – and while its effects are very beautiful, they cannot match sequins’ real-life luminescence. Nor can they beat the experience of wearing sequins and, being your own disco ball, throwing patterns of light on to the wall.

So, no, sequins still aren’t tasteful, in a minimalist-black-turtleneck kind of way. But don’t they offer something better and more necessary? As Gupta says: “They actually light you up.”

This article contains affiliate links to products. Our journalism is independent and is never written to promote these products although we may earn a small commission if a reader makes a purchase.

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[racingtoaredlight]

Raising the Bar

Do’s and Don’ts of upgrading your style.

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Style is not a competition, despite how often I come off with a tone suggesting it is.  While I do talk about the social aspect of style and how it reflects things to suggest status and refinement of character, the core fundamental premise of my philosophy on style is to properly reflect and frame who you are.

It’s about making yourself look as good as you can, both for those aforementioned social aspects as well as the emotional and psychological boost it gives you.  Frankly, dressing well makes you feel great about yourself.  That in itself is worth it.

But there are some pitfalls that you can unwittingly fall into while upgrading your style.  Things that can make you feel awkward and out of place.  There’s a sweet spot here, and hopefully this helps find it.

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DO - Keep it simple

I’ve beaten this concept into the ground, but if you’re in the earlier stages of upgrading your style, it’s cost efficient to stick to the basics.  You might be tempted to go for something with a bold checked pattern or a loud color...but it’s that light blue oxford shirt that’ll be worn multiple times per week for a decade.

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DON’T - Go to the extremes

If you’re in a work environment that’s more towards the casual end of the business casual spectrum, it doesn’t mean you can’t wear tailored clothing or accessories like a jacket and tie.  It just means you probably can’t get away with wearing a suit, even a relatively conservative one.

But if all your coworkers are wearing khakis and polos, you can absolutely get away with wearing chinos, and OCBD with a silk or wool knit tie and an unstructured jacket.  You might be wearing a tie and jacket, but those details will keep it from being overdressed and snooty like a suit would.

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DO - Be comfortable

The dude above looks comfortable.  And a soft flannel suit like that and camelhair jacket is fuckin’ comfortable, let me tell you.  But comfort is more than just the fabrics you’re wearing...it’s about being tailored properly and being something that you feel socially comfortable in as well.

That suit’s tailored pretty loose, and yet it looks miles better than the numerous skin-tight examples of suits that have been en vogue for the past five years.

But it’s the dude’s relaxed posture and demeanor that’s important.  If something’s going to make you feel overdressed and stuffy, it’s going to make you uncomfortable.  That reflects outward...

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DON’T - Look like you gotta poop

It’s impossible to look good, no matter what you’re wearing or how “in fashion” it is, if you’re not comfortable.  This dude looks like he’s gotta poop.  Nobody looks good when they gotta poop.  You’re not relaxed and comfortable if you gotta poop.

This guy just doesn’t look comfortable.  His jacket’s too tight.  His sleeves are too long.  That belt is weird.  It all looks affected and unnatural...and he’s got the demeanor that he knows it too.

Compare the two examples...the buttoned-up guy with the tie and suit looks at ease and relaxed while the guy without a tie and his shirt half undone couldn’t be less comfy.  Again, if you’re not comfortable wearing something...don’t wear it.

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DO - Use color for maximum impact

I love this example above because of how great of an example it is of using color for maximum impact.  Forget what he’s wearing...that navy vest could just as well be a navy sweater or cardigan.  Look at the simple base colors...camel, navy, light blue...and how that peak of red from the crewneck sweater and the gloves just explodes.

You don’t need to go crazy with color to make a huge impact.  And by cluttering up that color by wearing a bunch of other bold colors, those colors lose their impact.  Use just a splash and it goes such a long way.

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DON’T - Try to use bold patterns or colors to cover the details up

Bold patterned shirts aren’t as versatile and durable* as solid colored shirts.

*Patterned shirts will fall out of your rotation quicker than solid colored shirts due to being out of fashion, aging poorly or growing tired of them.  Solid colored shirts, especially oxfords, get better as they age and, in my opinion, are better cost efficient purchases for foundational pieces.

And if you’re trying to use patterns or colors to cover up bad fabric or a butchered tailoring job (as in the image above...check out the sleeves), it’s a worse sin than actually dressing inappropriately from the beginning.  Keeping it simple avoids this problem.

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DO - Refine your style

If you work in a white-collar environment where there are senior coworkers who really dress well every day in suits, it might be hard to raise the bar to their level.  What you can do instead is refine your own.

For example, I’ve pared my ties down to exclusively repp stripes and Italian grenadine ties and it’s something easy to build on.  Sure, it’s not a major upgrade or change, but it’s something that refines your personal sense of style and makes you unique.  Even if it’s just a tiny detail...

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DON’T - Get cute with these details

Listen, if you work with senior dudes who dress sharp in suits every day, you’re not gonna beat em.  You’re definitely not going to do it by flipping your collar up like the pic above, or doing tie bullshit like this...

So don’t even bother.  Just refine your own style instead.  Boredom with style is actually kind of hard to deal with if you really like it...but it can lead to temptations to do stupid shit like above.  Don’t fall into that trap.

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Raising the bar at work or personally isn’t hard, but your instincts can play tricks on you.

You might think going bold or splashy will pay off and show the world that you’re a style master to be reckoned with...but it’s usually the little splashes that make the best impact.  Look at how much better the simple examples work compared to the flashier ones...

Take the picture at the very top.  That’s something that’s not hard to pull off, and not hard to imagine working in a variety of social situations, but still looks both incredibly comfortable and sharp.

You’ll know how far you can upgrade because you’ll feel it yourself.  You’ll feel great if you’ve hit that sweet spot, while you’ll feel awkward or weird when you’re overdressed.  Hitting that sweet spot is great though.  You feel like a boss, invincible, like you’re king shit.  That’s the whole point of this thing...to make yourself feel great.

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***Piece republished from same RTARL pieces written hundreds of times already.

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