#Apex School of Fashion & Design

[miraculouswolf99]

Miraculous Dueling Chapter Two

Chapter Two: First Day At The Academy

Adrien was practically vibrating in his seat as his bodyguard took him to his new school. There was nothing else in the entire world that would make him more excited than he was at that very moment. His first day at an actual school. A duel school where he would be able to learn and practice something that he was actually passionate about. 

His father, of course, had not been happy that he had gone behind his back to sign up for the school. But, Adrien doubted that anything ever could make his father happy since he was always looking for improvement in basically everything around him. His father was also not the biggest fan of dueling. He was the owner of a fashion company, after all, not a dueling one. However, Adrien was able to talk him into letting him stay enrolled at the school by bringing up the connection to his mother and how she and Adrien used to duel a lot. So, Gabriel allowed him to stay enrolled to keep the connection to his mother alive. One of the few times that Adrien was able to win any type of argument with his father. Okay, if he was being honest with himself, it was really the literal first time he ever won an argument with his father.

When he arrived at the school, Adrien was very intrigued by how the school actually looked. The exterior of the school is tan with a slate blue cobblestone roof. The building is three stories tall.

The front of the building has eight large arched windows, each slightly inset with a striped design above them. The steps leading up to the entrance door widen as they approach the sidewalk and vice versa towards the entrance. The double entrance doors are dark oak, with gray handles. Above the doors is a white banner with a red outline hanging down. Above the banner are four rectangular windows, a large circular window, and a smaller circular window on each side.

The central portion of the school is an open-air courtyard. The entrance to the courtyard has a diagonal black and white checkerboard pattern, with a slate cream under this design. On either side of the entrance doors are a wooden bench and two chalkboards. Along one side wall of this area is a door leading to a utility room. The nurse's office, which a placard indicates is handicap-accessible, is located along the opposite sidewall.

The courtyard is made up of slate-gray concrete, with white lines painted on to make a basketball court. On either side of the courtyard is a basketball hoop hanging by a white rope. There is also a set of green metal stairs on either side of the courtyard, leading up to the second-floor rooms. Next to the stairs are green support pillars, supporting the platforms above.

Around the perimeter of the courtyard are various rooms, including locker rooms with adjoining bathrooms, and several classrooms, among them a science classroom.

The second floor has a green overhang, cream slate walls, and thin green metal pillars for structural support of the overhang. The platform jutting out from the wall, designed to allow people to get around the second floor, is made of green metal.

The second floor also has the entrances to the various classrooms, including an art studio room. Most of the classrooms have large windows and a birch door. Other rooms have no inward windows and a dark oak door with a window. At the bottom left of the stairs leading to the library is the headmaster's office.

The third floor at the front of the school has only one room, the library. The stairs leading up to the library are a light slate cream, with a slate orange and light brown banister. Just underneath the slight overhang of the banister are small white stone rectangles, positioned evenly throughout. Just at the apex of the two stairs is a stone design of a fleur-de-lis, with a downward-facing bow and flowers within the bow. The doors to the library are dark oak, with large windows and no discernible handles.

The third floor along the school's rear perimeter houses the cafeteria. Access to the cafeteria was shown to be via stairs from the first-floor courtyard.

Adrien was glad that Natalie had given him a map of the school. Otherwise, he would just have been completely lost. And by the look of the school, it certainly was big enough for it to be a duel school.

Now, the only problem that Adrien had was making friends since he knew no one around him. He reached into his bag and held his deck in its deck case. It comforted him. He knew that he was a good duelist, but it was more the memories of dueling with his mother that actually comforted him.

Adrien walked into the school as nervous as ever. He could already see a lot of students that were already there, just hanging out before class started. He kept his head down so that he was not mobbed by fans. He was not there for attention, he was there just to be a student.

Looking around, he was glad that no one had seemed to notice him yet. It gave him the chance to look around a bit before he would go to class. And he definitely noticed the wide range of people around. There was a blond girl, with two long ponytails, that was dressed almost like she had turned the sky into a dress with it being a blue dress covered in cloud designs. She was talking with a black-haired boy in a red sweatshirt that also looked to be wearing a rainbow shirt while also having painted nails. Looking another way, he saw a short girl with dark pink hair that looked to be dressed as some type of skater and she appeared to be arguing with a really tall boy in a red and white short-sleeved sweatshirt who looked to be very athletic. There was also a girl with ombre-designed brown and red hair that was staring at her phone, a boy that seemed to be doing small magic tricks for a short blond girl dressed entirely in pink, and many other types of students around.

Adrien certainly never had been around so many types of people before. He was usually only ever with other models and they typically were all very similar to him since models had to all be the same skinny and beautiful body type. Seeing all of the unique people around made him smile.

The ironic thing about him looking around him so much was that he was not actually watching where he was going. So, he ended up walking right into someone.

"I am so sorry," Adrien apologized immediately.

"Why am I not surprised that I would be the one you would run into, Adrien," a familiar voice said.

Adrien finally looked at who he had bumped into and it was Lyon. Vallia was close by. It made Adrien start to wonder if the two of them ever willingly separated. He knew they were twins, but they still spent a lot of time together.

"Oh, Lyon," Adrien breathed a sigh of relief that he had not bumped into a bully or a rabid fan. "Sorry about that. I wasn't watching where I was going."

"I can see that," Lyon said. "You seem a lot more interested in the school than most other new students would be."

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Well, to be honest, I did not go to any type of school before here," Adrien admitted. "I have been homeschooled my entire life. Tutors were brought in by my dad to teach me. Along with a tutor to teach me Chinese, a piano teacher, and a private fencing instructor as well."

"That is a lot to place onto one person," Vallia said. "Especially onto a teenager."

"My father knows what's best for me," Adrien shrugged. "Besides, he's allowing me to go to the duel academy, so I'm fine."

That made the twins share a look with each other. What Adrien was saying was really ringing some alarm bells in their heads. But, they did not know Adrien that well yet, so they were going to take a "wait and see" approach to this.

"So, who is your main teacher, Adrien," Vallia asked, changing the subject.

Adrien pulled out his school schedule. "Some teacher called Bustier."

Both Lyon and Vallia had to fight not to let out some groans. They were obviously not fans of the teacher.

"Well, lucky for you that she is also our teacher," Lyon tells him. "And believe me when I say that you need luck when in that class."

"Huh," Adrien was confused.

There was then a hyper and loud girlish shriek. The kind that would more likely be heard at a boyband concert than inside of a dueling school. But, with a literal model now attending the school, it made sense for someone to make that noise. And since there is only one girl that could sound like a complete brat while letting out an excited shriek, the twins knew exactly who it was.

"You are about to find out in about three... two... one," Vallia counted down.

Adrien was then basically tackled by a very excited blond girl. And judging by Adrien's face, he knew who she was as well.

"Adrikins," Chloe Bourgeois, the spoiled brat of the school, shouted as she was the one that was tightly hugging Adrien. "You're actually here!"

"Oh... Uh... Hi, Chloe," Adrien was visually uncomfortable with how she was hugging him. "But can you let go, please? I told you that I don't like it when you do this to me."

"You're so silly, Adrikins," Chloe completely brushed off what he just said. "You love me and you know it."

"He said to let him go, Chloe," Lyon glared at the blond girl. "You really need to learn to listen to something other than the sound of your own voice."

Adrien almost jumped when he heard Lyon's voice. It was different than before. It was so cold and icy. It was as if he could cause a case of frostbite just from speaking to someone like that. Very different from the previous gentle and kind voice that he had been using before. It was like his entire personality had done a complete 180 twist.

"Don't make me call daddy," Chloe threatened Lyon.

But the icy teen only rolled his eyes in response. Vallia also did not look impressed by the threat at all.

"You have tried that threat lots of times on me, Chloe," Lyon says. "It did not work, then, and it will not work now."

"Your dad may be the mayor of this city, but what use can he be against those that have three other governments behind their backs," Vallia also sounded a little colder than usual.

Chloe glared at them but did not say anything else to them. She turned back to Adrien with some very fake sweet eyes.

"Come on, Adrikins," Chloe latched herself onto Adrien's arm and started trying to pull him in another direction. "I can have Sabrina show you around. I would do it, but playing tour guide is for commoners."

"Chloe, let go," Adrien finally pulled his arm from her grip. "I can find my way around myself just fine. Thanks for the offer, though."

Chloe pouted like a child that was just denied the candy bar that they wanted.

"Suit yourself, Adrikins," she said. "But make sure to stay close to me since I am the best student in this WHOLE school." 

The twins rolled their eyes, clearly thinking something completely different. They definitely were not fans of Chloe and they made it very clear.

"I'll... uh... think about it," Adrien turned her down in the nicest way possible by making it seem like he would just think about it.

That clearly had gone right over Chloe's head as her smile at Adrien did not falter at all.

"I'll see you in class, Adrikins," Chloe walked off.

Lyon and Vallia both gave Adrien looks that were very obvious questions as to why he had let Chloe hold onto him even after he told her to let go. He had obviously not liked it and had told her as such. But the look on his face when she refused to let go and brushed off what he had said about not liking it said that he had expected her to act like that.

"Chloe's family has been friends with mine for a long time," Adrien explained. "I've known her since we were in diapers."

"That doesn't give her the right to treat you like that," Vallia said. "She was treating you like a piece of meat that belonged to her."

"Chloe is not that bad," Adrien said. "She is just really friendly with me."

"Yeah, so friendly that I felt the need to get a crowbar to get her off of you," Lyon rolled his eyes. "We better get to class before the bell rings."

He walked off. Vallia and Adrien followed him, but the blond model could not help but look at  Vallia as they did.

"Is Lyon alright," he asked her. "He acted... well... cold when Chloe showed up."

"Behold, your first meeting with the Ice Prince, Adrien," Vallia tells him.

"Ice Prince," Adrien was confused.

"Lyon is a very private person," Vallia explained. "We come from a very rich family and you are aware that our card shop is the most popular in the city, maybe even the whole country."

"Let me guess, you guys always have people trying to warm up to you in order to try and get the best cards either for a discount or for free," Adrien guessed.

"You have no idea how much that it happens," Vallia sighed.

"I was aware of Lyon's nickname already, but I figured that it was more because of his style and how he does sound a little cold when he talks," Adrien says. "Plus, I also know what it feels like to be used because of some fans wanting me just for my looks or my money instead of wanting me for me."

"That is always what is hard for us," Vallia said. "We hardly ever know who to really trust because of how we have money, connections, and other things that people would want to take advantage of."

"Trust takes years to build, but moments to destroy," Adrien was sure he heard that quote from somewhere before.

Vallia nodded. "It's why Lyon is an Ice Prince. Not only to keep away those that would use us for what we have but to also make sure bullies do not mess with him. He has been burned by broken trust before and he has not been the same since."

"He was not like that with me," Adrien was confused as to why he did not get the Ice Prince when he first met Lyon.

"I am sure that Lyon also told you that he is good at reading people," Vallia said. "He probably saw that you were not like others and would not take advantage of him. It most likely helps that as a model, he would know that you would have the same type of trust issues as him."

"It's not that I have trust issues," Adrien said. "If anything, I trust too easily. That's what my cousin Felix says, anyway. But, I am just wary of strangers just coming up to me and instantly trying to be my friend."

"Well, at least you know not to trust everyone," Vallia giggled.

The two of them and Lyon all walked into the classroom together. It certainly was a big room and Adrien actually liked how it seemed like a very light and friendly environment because of the large windows that let in so much light. He also liked how big the desks were since that allowed for a lot of space to lay out cards in order to make strategies as well as to do all normal school work too.

Adrien looked at all the students that were in the classroom already as well as the ones that were coming in. There was the pink-haired girl, athletic boy, and ombre-haired girl that he had noticed before, plus the blond girl that was in all pink. But there were also nine other students in the room. And that included Chloe and her best friend Sabrina. There was also a goth girl, a tall boy in a skull shirt, a red-headed boy whose hair covered one of his eyes, a girl with rainbow hair, a boy wearing headphones on his head, a boy that looks like a nerd stereotype from a high school movie, and a blue-haired girl carrying a box that looked like it had come from a bakery.

All in all, it was a very interesting class.

"Nino," Vallia called out to the boy with headphones. "We have a new kid in class. This is Adrien. Since Aurore is in Mendeleiev's class this year, you have a free seat next to you. Do you mind?"

"Not at all, dudette," the now-named Nino smiled at Vallia.

But then Chloe latched herself onto Adrien once again. It made Vallia seriously start considering going out and getting a crowbar. Even if she could not actually get her hands off of him with it, she would be more than happy to knock Chloe out with it and get her hands off him that way. 

"My Adrikins will be sitting with me," she declared.

"But...But I sit next to you, Chloe," Sabrina looked really upset at just being thrown out of her seat like that.

Chloe ignored her. "Come on, Adrikins."

"Chloe, stop," Adrien tried pulling his arm away from her again. "I am perfectly fine with sitting next to Nino. I decided to come to school because I wanted to make friends."

"You will be much happier sitting next to me than some commoner loser," Chloe refused to let go of him again.

"Chloe, you can either let him go and let him sit where he wants, or I will beat you a lot faster than last time if we duel again," Lyon threatened her.

Chloe actually let Adrien go, but to turn to Lyon. He did not even blink at the glare that she sent his way.

"You only beat me because you got lucky," Chloe yelled at him.

"Then I also must have gotten lucky the other dozen times we dueled as well," Lyon had on a very icy smirk.

Adrien used the opportunity to slip into the spot next to Nino before Chloe had a chance to grab onto him again. He caught Sabrina's eye and she gave him a smile and a nod as a silent "thank you" for not letting Chloe just throw her out of her seat like that.

"Is it always like this," Adrien asked Nino as he saw Chloe failing to get under Lyon's skin.

"More or less," Nino shrugged. "Think of it like a welcoming to the class since no one is ever really welcomed until they witness one of Chloe's temper tantrums."

"Things will never be boring around here, will they," Adrien asked him.

"You have no idea," Nino chuckled, patting him on the back. "Just wait until  duel practice starts."

That was definitely something Adrien looked forward to.

#miraculous #miraculous fandom #original character #ml salt #miraculous ladybug #lila salt #chloe salt #original heroes #original miraculous #crossovers are the best #yugioh #marinette salt #miraculous-yugioh crossover

[rune-ko]

Intro | About me

Thought I'd write an intro text for anyone who comes across my page.

I'm Sigrun but I also go by Cat/Rune based on my previous and current name. I started doing adoptable designs (still do) a few years back which got me into Concept Art and Character Design. Did a school, finished that school, looking for work now.

I love creating characters and building worlds around them. There's just something incredibly satisfying about creating and expanding on your own ideas. Aesthetically I enjoy ethereal and grotesque themes and gore. Tho I don't personally draw the later one too often.

Here's some media I really like:

Some of my faves are (and I'm also probably forgetting a lot) ✧Anime: Evangelion, One Piece, Fate, Magi, Mononoke, TGCF, JoJo, Houseki no Kuni, Madoka, Records of Ragnarok, MiA, etc..

✧Games: Onmyoji, Genshin Impact, Honkai Starrail, Nier: Automata, Bioshock, Danganronpa, etc..

I also collect anime-pvc figures! While I do buy characters from show, I often end up buying OC characters based on their design. Love figures from ALTER, Apex, Myethos and Max Factory the most!

Lastly, while I'm not the most fashionable person myself, I do love fashion. Personally I'm also a big fan of EGL Fashion.

Feel free to shoot me messages if you'd like

#rune-ko #introductory post #about myself

[shoarchives]

Lo Life

In the world of fashion and consumerism, we often find ourselves unwittingly entranced by the power of branding. The appeal of a well-crafted logo or a well-told brand story can be irresistible, leading us to seek out and covet certain products with a fervor that borders on obsession.

This journey began in my high school days in Virginia Beach, where I first fell in love with the streetwear and hip-hop style that dominated the scene. Growing up idolizing Pharrell Williams, I was naturally drawn to the vibrant and colorful designs of brands like Stussy and BAPE, which were all the rage at the time. As a struggling college student, I had to make every penny count, but when Commonwealth, the first streetwear boutique, opened its doors near my campus, I knew I had to splurge. I spent my entire lunch money on Stussy! And those free BAPE sandals from a Japanese fashion magazine? Don't even get me started. The packaging alone was worth the hype. It was the early 2000s, the golden age of streetwear, and I was all in - a fan, a consumer, a fiend for that fresh gear.

But as I grew older and began to navigate the world of video production in the 2010s, I found myself drawn to more practical and functional clothing that could withstand the rigors of travel and long days on set. That's when I discovered Patagonia, whose ethos and commitment to sustainability and environmentalism spoke to me on a deeper level. While laboring for Karmaloop, the digital retail behemoth, I was introduced to the preeminent outdoor clothier, Patagonia, by my co-producer, Will Kaner, who even authored an article for their publication. Naturally, I seized the opportunity to exploit the good 40% staff discount, accruing a surplus of gorp gear. I was adrift in the bewildering world, clad in Patagonia attire juxtaposed with Supreme, a peculiar amalgamation of normcore and Hypebeast. But alas, I was a mere neophyte in my early 30s, needing to be more knowledgeable about the customs and conventions of the scene.

Everything altered at the age of 38, an age I never envisioned, as I achieved the long-elusive milestone of accumulating a million dollars. It pains me to utter such crass numerical values, but truth be told, being a millennial millionaire is the equivalent of attaining a six-figure salary in the 90s. But with all that cash came a weird mid-life crisis that had me second-guessing my fashion choices. It's funny, because my old man, who had lived through some serious immigrant struggles, couldn't even afford to have a mid-life crisis if he wanted to. Crazy how life works, right? I didn't just want to amass a collection of clothes; I wanted to invest in pieces that would stand the test of time, and that I could pass down to future generations as heirlooms.

So there I was, 38 years old in the year of the pandemic, 2020. All my TV gigs and film projects were kaput, but what? I needed a damn break, man. The whole industry was in panic mode, and I felt burned out. Thus, the pandemic imposed an impromptu sabbatical, which led to me spending much more time on social media. And you know what I noticed? My peers were starting to dress a little more grown-up and sophisticated. I started checking out brands like Noah and Rowing Blazers, and damn, those Ivy vibes were calling my name. Not content with merely adding to my collection, I also took to the online marketplace, selling off my streetwear pieces on popular sites like Grailed and eBay. Indeed, it may have been the apex of the resell era, and I certainly reaped the benefits. In fact, I amassed nearly $20k in sales - not bad for a time of boredom and isolation. And yet, with all that surplus cash in hand, I couldn't help but feel that any future clothing purchases must be made with a deep investment in a brand that stood the test of time.

And that's where Ralph Lauren comes in. I've always been a fan of the brand's classic, preppy, all-American design aesthetic, but it wasn't until 2020 that I became truly devoted to it. That year, as the world was plunged into chaos and uncertainty by the COVID-19 pandemic, I found myself seeking solace in the familiar and the timeless

In the past, I always had a thing for Polo, but I was never one of those hardcore "Lo Life" types. And let's be honest, I could never afford those Polo Bear sweaters back in the day. We had a few hand-me-down Polo joints and some CHAPS gear, which all the kids used to clown on. They'd say, "Yo, CHAPS stands for 'Can't Have A Polo Shirt'" haha. But back in 2020, with the extra time, I began to re-explore the world of Ralph Lauren more deeply, immersing myself in the brand's rich history and heritage. I learned about Ralph Lauren's influence on the fashion industry as a whole and how so many other designers and brands have borrowed from and been inspired by his designs. It's pretty charming to observe the extent to which Ralph Lauren's style has permeated the world of streetwear. Every other brand borrows elements from Ralph, with some even flipping the iconic Polo Bear to depict him engaging in questionable activities. The Polo Sport logo, too, has been emulated by countless streetwear brands, so much so that it's impossible to keep track of them all. One can see inspiration in the designs of brands like Aime Leon Dore, Palace, and Supreme, using vibrant colors, bold graphics, and classic silhouettes that pay homage to Ralph Lauren's legendary aesthetic.

In many ways, my journey into the world of Ralph Lauren has reflected my personal growth and evolution. From my early days in Virginia Beach to my struggles and successes as a video director to my current status as a devoted collector and enthusiast, I've come a long way. As I built my own collection of Ralph Lauren pieces, I carefully organized them into categories on a Google Slides document (yes, I know it sounds crazy). And even on film sets for projects I directed, I allowed the costume department to tap into my wardrobe to elevate the characters' looks. But you know what? It's all been worth it. And hey, if that means sharing my closet with the costume department on set, so be it. 

Through social media and online forums, I connected with people worldwide who shared my passion for the brand and its timeless style. I discovered community and connection among other Ralph Lauren fans and collectors. And as I built my own collection of Ralph Lauren pieces, I found myself thinking more and more about the idea of legacy and passing things down to future generations. There's something deeply satisfying about knowing that the clothes I'm investing in now will still be relevant and desirable years, even decades, from now.

But why Ralph Lauren, you may ask? Well, for me, it's more than just a brand. It's a symbol of the American Dream. My father, a hardworking immigrant who struggled so that I could have a better life, serves as my blueprint for the American Dream. And Ralph Lauren, with its connection to the all-American design aesthetic and the aspirational qualities it fosters, embodies that dream in a way that speaks to me personally.

Of course, my journey with Ralph Lauren has not been without its bumps in the road. The psychology of brand loyalty and cult-like following, particularly in fashion, becomes evident when examining the emotional connection and aspirational qualities fostered by brands like Ralph Lauren. But for me, the camaraderie and investment in the brand have been a journey of self-discovery and personal growth, culminating in a deep appreciation for Ralph Lauren's timeless appeal and global influence.

In a world that seems to be constantly shifting and changing, the enduring allure of Ralph Lauren has remained a constant for me. And while some may see my devotion to the brand as a sign of being lost in the hypnotic world of branding, I see it as a reflection of my own personal evolution and growth.

#ralph lauren #polo #lolife #vintage #fashion #menswear #branding #marketing #covid #streetwear

[moonys-luvr]

𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐌𝐞

Carwyn || he/they/it || ftm trans + aroace || physically disabled + mobility aid user || Slytherin, FUCK JKR ||

current hyperfixation(s): BBC Merlin

Special Interests: Stars/Constellations and Harry Potter

see under the divider for a proper about me, my list of fandoms/stuff I like, and my DNI

Hi! if you wanna be mutuals/friends don't be afraid to send an ask or a DM! preferably people 16+ because I'm 19.

a little about me: My name is Carwyn. I'm trans (ftm) and aroace. I'm autistic and disabled, I sometimes use mobility aids such as braces and a cane. I collect cassette tapes, pins, and books. I grew up in the local punk scene of my city.

My favorite video games are Star Wars: Fallen Order, Hogwarts Legacy, and Apex Legends.

My favorite shows of all time are Miraculous Ladybug, the 2004 Batman animation, Doctor Who, Supernatural, BBC Merlin, Chicago Fire, and Criminal Minds.

My favorite movies are Donnie Darko, Top Gun, 5th Element, The Amazing Spider-man, and the Harry Potter series.

I'm a huge sci-fi and fantasy nerd. I'm (hopefully) going to college next year to become an elementary school art teacher. my dream jobs outside of teaching are to either be a librarian, director, full time artist, or an eco fashion designer. I live in the U.S. and I'm mixed, white and Mexican.

I really like cosplaying and 3d art but I don't do either as often as I wish I could. I spend my time outside of work painting, watching films, or reading.

sorry for the wall of text, I'm not sure how else to format it tbh.

Stuff I like/Fandoms:

in alphabetical order

Apex Legends

Bluey

COD

Criminal Minds

DC

Deadly Class

Doctor Who

Fallout (I only have 76)

Game of Thrones

Good Omens

Hannibal

Harry Potter/Marauders/Fantastic Beasts

Hogwarts Legacy

House M.D.

LOTR/The Hobbit

Marvel (X-Men especially!!)

Merlin

Miraculous Ladybug

Overwatch

Percy Jackson

Supernatural

Shameless

Sherlock

Star Wars

Star Wars: Fallen Order

The Artful Dodger

The Chronicles of Narnia

The Walking Dead

The Witcher

DNI if,:

pro ship, TERFs and JKR apologists, pro-life/anti-choice, LGBTQphobes, racists, xenophobes, anti self-dx, anti sys, anti agere, ableists.

(this gets updated sometimes, mostly as I find new stuff I hate)

#introduction #intro post #get to know me #pinned post #dni

[symwinter]

HBIC Marinette – Chapter One

Taglist: @ladybug-182 | @our-preciousss | @woe-is-me0 |

Last – Next

“We can’t be friends if you’re acting like this.” Marinette paused as put her stuff away and looked up at Alya. Behind her was most of the class, though Chloé, Sabrina, Nathanael, and Adrien were notably absent from the crowd—though Adrien did having fencing practice and Nathanael left as soon as he could to work on the comic with Marc. “I mean, bullying Lila, I just can’t—” at that point Marinette decided to check out, she had heard this conversation point many a time. “I’ve given you so many chances and I just—” Marinette sighed softly and took a deep breath before looking at the others. “Are you even listening to me?!” Alya asked exasperated. And while no, she wasn’t, what caught her eye was Lila holding a very familiar sketchbook. Hers, that had gone missing a few days prior.

“It’s not worth it Alya. Clearly talking to her isn’t getting through,” Lila said, holding the sketchbook out. She wouldn’t. But apparently she would as Lila opened it and tore the pages apart. “Actions seem to be more appropriate.” More hands shot out to tear at the pages or maybe stop them, in that moment she didn’t care who was friend or foe. After what felt like an eternity later, Marinette picked the torn apart sketchbook apart and placed into her backpack. Thankfully it wasn’t the one she had her commissions in. What did they think this would accomplish? She took a deep breath and looked up at the class, zipping her bag shut.

“Alright then,” she watched as her former friends faces filled with hope, “I guess we’re not friends.” The class had varying levels of shock as she slipped out of the class. On the way out, she caught Chloé’s eye and watched the blonde’s face break into a grin.

As soon as Marinette left the classroom, leaving Alya sputtering, Chloé Bourgeois could stop herself from laughing. She really did need to see Adrikins and catch him up on what was coming but should couldn’t help but revel in her class’s stupidity. “What are you laughing at Chloé?” Alix hissed. The rest of the class looked at her. “Just enjoying the show. You made an enemy of the scariest girl I’ve ever known.” “Marinette? I fail to see how—” the blonde cut Alya off. “Let me catch you up to speed since you’re technically still new. Marinette is the queen of beasts, she can smell you fear. I may be a bitch but Marinette’s the apex predator,” she smirked, “or did some of you forget?” With that, Chloé slipped out of her seat, bags and Sabrina in tow. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to inform Adrikins of what’s happening. I can’t leave him to the wolves after all.” Once again, Alya was left sputtering for something to say. She understood their confusion. She too underestimated how much power Marinette Dupain-Cheng had until experiencing. Perhaps she should talk to Marinette after all. Make sure she wouldn’t be part of what’s coming.

If it wasn’t for the familiarly expensive smell of Chloé’s perfume, Adrien would’ve been uncomfortable. “Adrikins!” “Hey Chlo. Any reason you’ve decided to ambush me at practice?” “I just need to catch you up on some important class changes because trust me you’ll want to know.” “What happened?” “Lie-la and her cronies tore Marientte’s sketchbook apart after giving her some bullshit speech about befriending Lila. I wasn’t really listening and I doubt she was either.” “They... what?” “Tore her sketchbook apart.” “Are you serious?” Adrien didn’t know much about the fashion aspect of his father’s work but he did know you never touched a designer’s sketchbook. “Yep,” she replied, popping the ‘p.’ “So i thought it best inform you of the monster they just unleashed.”

Of course Adrien found it weird to think of Marinette as anything but nice but the first account evidence from Chloé and Sabrina was enough to sway him. Especially since Sabrina wasn’t friends with Chloé yet. He dropped his fencing bag into the backseat of the limo. “Hey I promised Chloé to help her with some school stuff. I already informed Nathalie so you can head back.” The gorilla gave a short nod and drove off. Chloé leaned against him. “Didn’t think you were the type to lie,” she mused. “I try not to. Now I need to get a new sketchbook for Marinette and since you already planned on stopping by I’m sure you can accompany me.” “Ugh fine Adrikins,” she retorted, “but only because you’d be hopeless without moi guiding you.” Adrien scoffed and elbowed her. She retaliated with a hip check. “Now let’s go save ourselves from Dupain-Cheng’s wrath!”

#symwinter’s trash writing #hbic marinette #lila salt #class salt #Chloe bourgeois redemption #kinda #adrien sugar #tagging is hard guys

[cult-of-artemis-and-athena]

What the fuck is "femininity", anyway? Pt. 2

I was watching a video a few months ago about Evangelical Christians complaining about what they perceived as androgyny - women wearing pants and not having long hair, men not going fishing or wearing beards - and then said something to the effect of "These people are straying from God's design!"

I suppose the Bible does have some parts that can be construed as saying that women should have long hair, men should have short hair, and they should both look different and do different things. However, wearing certain clothes or hairstyles, or doing the majority of tasks don't have a biological component. If men were naturally, biologically, by-God supposed to have short hair, it should grow to be an inch long and stop, right? I've seen some Christians rebut the "only men can wear pants" argument on the basis that the stereotypical Christian man wouldn't like, nor properly fit into a pair of women's pants. I would take that a step further, because I think it's hilarious, and say that if women wearing pants were a 100%, by-God biological impossibility, they would have one leg, or be like nagas or mermaids and it would be physically impossible to make pants for them.

Another example: musical instruments are assigned gender stereotypes for some fucking reason. A friend from middle school said she wanted to play the trumpet, but was given a clarinet because it was a "feminine" instrument. Conversely, I've seen boys who started school band on a flute or clarinet either switch instruments, or quit band altogether. Perhaps small hands make it easier to play the piccolo, and it's less annoying for a strong person to carry around a tuba, upright bass, or bari sax, but there's no reason for the player's genitals to enter the equation. During the 18th century, the acceptability of an instrument for women was based on whether the player had to spread their legs to play it. Pianos, violins/violas, and flutes were allowed, but a cello was indecent. I'm not sure, then, how harps became stereotyped as "feminine instruments" when they're both gigantic and require the player to straddle them...but here I am trying to make sense of nonsense again...

Finally - and this is the big one - there is the downright schizophrenic relationship some male communities have with female attractiveness and things women do, or have done to them, to change how they look in pictures and videos.

I feel I must preface the rest of this point with something: "men" and "women" are not hive minds, and it's important to not strawman half the population based on a conglomeration of the worst representatives you have experienced. If you go outside, in real life, and think about the couples you see, it becomes very obvious that the majority of men you will see are attracted to women who aren't skinny blondes with big boobs/asses and the majority of women you see are attracted to men who aren't 6-/7-figure earners. People who seem to express that they are totally alone and perpetually shit-on by a world of "Chads" and "Staceys" feels like the same type of mindset school kids have, where they obsess over not being included by the popular kids while they're befriended and included just fine by kids they actually have more in common with. It's not a healthy mindset to have, but excusable in school kids because kids are immature by nature and they mostly grow out of it; however, to be an adult and still think like this is a good sign to get help.

I'm talking primarily about the incel community and perhaps some of the groups that this mentality spills into.

A post was going around several years ago and I think the photos were taken from a clickbait which was taken from a makeup artist's portfolio. The MUA might actually have been Goar Avetisyan (https://www.goaronline.com/courses) but the before and after pictures resembled the ones on the link above -- one with absolutely no makeup or hair styling, and then the other with full glam, special occasion makeup and styled hair, a wig, extensions, etc. The way it was presented was "LOOK! HERE'S PROOF W*MEN AREN'T ACTUALLY HOT! WAKE UP SHEEPLE! THEY'RE LYING TO YOU! ILLUMINATI EXPOSED!!!!"

I can see why they're mad, because the dishonesty surrounding makeup, but especially photoshop, plastic surgery, posing, and airbrushing can get toxic. I'm old enough to remember the old-fashioned mindset where women were supposed to hide their "beauty secrets". Don't apply makeup in public, keep your roots touched up so nobody knows they're dyed, and if you have any treatments or surgery always deny having them. Wear your makeup to bed, then wake up early and fix it before your guy sees you.

I couldn't imagine how awful I would feel if I had Instagram or TikTok when I was growing up. I had enough moments of feeling frustrated because I didn't naturally look how other people looked, and I didn't realize that people in TV and movies were wearing makeup, that magazine ads were photoshopped, etc. Just being an extremely average-looking human being with no concept of basic grooming, comparing myself to other kids at school was hard enough without the rapist-run media adding another layer of bullshit.

When I realized the layers of lies, it was like...how long have I been wasting my time and money on this totally made-up problem? How much did I actually improve my life and happiness chasing it? Or, did it actually make me more miserable? How much could I have accomplished if I put the same amount of angst into a different pursuit -- instead of fixing my face, I could have been fixing my art...When it comes to pursuing an unattainable ideal, there is no end to the horror.

So, I suppose, when a group of men (...boys, whatever) realize that "hot women" are a spook, and the the ethereal creature they've been told by society to put on a pedestal is actually not far removed from them, and it shits and farts, it seems very reasonable to feel angry and like you've been taken for a ride by "the system". It can be easy to blame women for this, and hate them. And it's probably easy to get stuck here.

Instead of being perpetually angry, they have to mourn the death of this ethereal spook-woman, and move on with an acceptance of reality as it is. Women, too, have to kill and mourn the spook-woman as part of self-acceptance.

One positive evolution of the makeup fandom is that while the makeup has gotten more intense and elaborate, makeup tutorials have demystified makeup. When tutorials started to become popular, there was a lot of "Excuse my eye-circles, excuse my pimple, excuse my skin, excuse my hair, excuse my lighting, excuse my room, excuse my, excuse my, excuse, excuse, excexcexcexCEXEXEXEXEXEX- *boom*" and thankfully someone eventually came along ($10 says it was a drag queen) and said, "SHUT THE FUCK UP, NOBODY CARES," and eventually the makeup fandom became okay with letting a bare face be a bare face. You wear the makeup, you don't wear the makeup. It doesn't matter. It's just a hobby.

To refer back to my original point, the confusion of makeup (something culturally feminine) with biological femininity has really fucked up both men and women. Everyone is better off extracting the two from one another, and it seems like many people are in the process of doing that. It helps women hate themselves less, and it helps men humanize women and have better relationships.

However, the image of the spook-woman, "10/10 model" is so ingrained in some parts of the culture, as the apex of the vertex of femininity, that despite complaints about how makeup is a lie, discarding that in favor of just a healthy, bare-faced woman feels like embracing post-modernity and a slippery slope to embracing ugliness as beauty. I think the lack of exaggerated femininity that spook-woman makeup provides feels threatening because the woman's face looks more masculine in a purely relative sense. The exaggerated femininity of the spook-woman, as it is for the Evangelical Christians who follow strict gender roles, provides additional separation between the sexes which serves to reassure men who are A) preoccupied with their level of masculinity and B) hyper-aware of their standing toward the bottom of this hierarchy of masculinity. I think the entire hierarchy benefits from them being placated by more separation from women, because if the bottom whatever percent of men are too dissatisfied with their standing, they may start punching upwards or wanting to attack the hierarchy itself. The men at the top don't want that because of the benefits they receive for being at the top.

MGTOW and the incel movement really kicked off after Gamergate, and intensified with subsequent "waves" of feminism. The discontent men direct their frustration at women, but they also direct their frustration at the men not troubled by what women do. There's suddenly a lot of interest in whether you're an alpha, a beta, a gamma, omega, a sigma, a ligma male, etc. and which one is the better type of male to be. There's a lot of hatred for "Chads" and I see a lot of jealousy directed toward men who are married and have families, usually in the form of "She's just gonna divorce you, take half your shit, and then manipulate your kids to hate you. You'll see...you'll realize you should have spent your whole life banging whores."

This all seems like the result of the ol' spending money we don't have to buy things we don't need to impress people we don't like. This is undoubtedly the idealist in me, men and women would be better off to cut each other some slack. We could see one another as fellow tragic, flawed individuals instead of fleshlights and ATMs, escape the Matrix and spit in the faces of our rapist, media elite overlords.

#femininity #performative femininity #mgtow #mass media #makeup #spooks #traditional gender roles #women don't exist #gender roles are a spook #hollywood rapists #jordan peterson #stop putting women on pedestals

[bruh-haikyuu]

Dear oik suckers can I ask for some comedy of oikawa and kags liking the same girl

A/N: Hana I see u 👀

viridity. | oikawa tōru + kageyama tobio

word count: 2482

warnings: none

(n.) naive innocence

It’s perfect. It’s so ideal, Oikawa nearly jumps up and down screaming. You’ll love it. You’ll love it so much you’ll actually jump up and down screaming like he’s aching to. And after that, when he tells you how he feels, you can’t possibly say no.

White Day is going to be middle school third-year Oikawa Tooru’s day. Anyone who plans otherwise is getting a volleyball to the head very, very soon. He’s saved up for this moment the entire year and took up as much part-time jobs as his schedule could handle. Resisted ever burning urge to get new knee pads, so he could afford the very item being displayed on the front window of the chocolate shop.

“My lucky day,” Oikawa thinks as his hand reaches out for the last daintily wrapped box of bittersweet chocolate on the shelf. Nothing is going to stop him now...

Except the pristinely kept hand that takes ahold of the box at the same time. The pristinely kept hand that extends all the way to the torso of the last kouhai he needed to see right now.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Kageyama knows that this present screams you in every fashion. You, his precious second-year upperclassman, who’d brought a dazzling light into his world whenever you entered a room. It’s the type of chocolate that isn’t too bitter but not sweet also; it’s milky, and just the way you like it. If Kageyama doesn’t get it for you, he doesn’t know what he’ll do to himself.

White Day is going to be middle school first-year Kageyama Tobio’s day. He’s practiced day and night for the day where he’d finally tell you how he feels; hearing you say no, would be the death of him, but if you’d miraculously say yes... well, he’ll think of the intricacies later. You’ll love this gift from him, much better than any gift you’ll ever have. It’ll be a gift where you’d profusely say you couldn’t accept it, but would eventually prize it for years to come.

Kageyama thinks, “This chocolate is mine.” Thrusting out his arm to slip the last beautifully wrapped box into his hands, he pictures your sparkling smile when he presents this to you and professes his love.

But he’d spoke to soon, when he feels another hand gripping the other end of the box. Another hand that belonged to the upperclassman who could ruin everything he’d ever planned up to this day.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

“Tobio-chan.”

“Senpai.”

Oikawa wants to laugh, and then cry and then curse at the gods for his unfortunate encounter. How fitting. Of course Kageyama wants the exact same thing as him as well; all he’d ever done was did what Oikawa had done and made it look better when he was doing it. But now he had to develop a similar eye for chocolate too? Oikawa nearly growls, but pits the feeling deep in his stomach.

Meanwhile, Kageyama tethers on the brink of pulling the chocolate from his upperclassman’s hands and running away. But if you’d heard he’d done such a thing, Kageyama would never be able to live with himself anymore. Why now? he thinks. And out of all the people to do it too... Kageyama deems himself as a rather unlucky person.

But neither of them even thinks of backing down. It was this chocolate, or eternal shame that will haunt them until they’re crippled and dusty.

“Tobio-chan,” Oikawa starts, gripping the box hard enough for veins to pop from the contours of his skin. Despite this, he’s sporting an impressive grin enough to make the shopkeeper’s knees go weak. “What a surprise to see you here.”

Kageyama, on the other hand, does not spare a single smile to his senior, and tugs the box harder towards him. “I believe it’s more surprising that we’ve gotten ourselves in this situation, Senpai.”

“Oh, you think so?” the older boy gripes, pulling the gift and Kageyama to his side. “Say, what a tough grip you’ve got here. You must really want this very specific box of chocolates specially designed for the female species which is coincidentally the last on the shelf.”

“Of course, it’s a gift unlike any other.”

“Who’re you planning to give it to? I don’t remember you being this forward with girls,” Oikawa feels slightly childish, having to go through a tug of war with a first-year middle schooler in the midst of a refined candy shop. But if it means getting this present for you, it’s to hell with everything. “Is it Misaki-chan? Or that cute girl with pigtails in your class?... Don’t tell me you have a crush on Y/N-chan...”

Kageyama would rather have been run over by a bus than admit anything to anyone—particularly a senior who’d almost tried to “subjugate” him with bitter violence. But hearing your name, in reference to the feelings he’d harbored for you, boils his blood to the peak.

“So it is Y/N-chan... How regrettable, then. Because I was planning to give this to her too.”

Oikawa wishes his naive junior didn’t turn red. But alas, that is the truth, and the truth is that the both of them are rivals when it comes to your affections. The truth is that the dewy-eyed genius Tobio-chan and the apex predator Oikawa are destined adversaries, whether they like it or not. Yet frankly, they just want a break from each other.

Neither of them are letting their iron grips go loose, even by a single millimeter. Determination is scribbled all over Kageyama’s face, his features scrunching up like a week-old prune left out in the sun. Little by little, he also spots the faint animalistic aura from his senpai, who doesn’t seem very pleased with their little “game”.

“Please let go, Oikawa-senpai. I grabbed it first.”

He laughs in return, “Well I liked Y/N-chan first. You let go, Tobio-chan~”

“I won’t let Y/N-senpai’s heart fall to the Demon King’s hands.”

“Ha?! What’d you call me, you brat?! Say it again! Let’s see what happens!”

No, no, no, no. This is not supposed to be how it was going to go. Oikawa was just going to head into the candy shop, grab the last box of chocolates and pay for it with the hard-earned money he’d collected. Then, the next day on White Day, he would give it to you at the private corner in the school courtyard with the blossoming plum tree. You’d smile that smile he loved, then he’d confess. You’d blush and shyly nod and you live happily ever after. Bla bla bla. End of story.

That was the plan. Until Oikawa found himself locked in a tug-of-war with his stone-faced underclassman in a petite candy shop with all its patrons staring at them—he even swears he noticed a father whisper to her slobbery daughter: “Ume-chan, they’re the kinds of boys you’ll want to avoid dating when you grow up, okay?”

“Give it up, Tobio-chan! I’m prettier!”

“Well, I’m not a narcissist!”

“At least I know how to read kanji!”

“Th-That’s not important! I saw it first, senpai—”

Kageyama doesn’t know if he is lucky or cursed, but when a shrill voice suddenly cuts off their heated dispute, he is sent flying back against the vending machine with the faintly crumpled package of chocolates held tightly to his chest. Did I win? he asks himself before being met with a pair of round black eyes reflecting his fatigued face.

“Mama, look, look! I found the chocolate!” a young boy, not older than six, is sidled in front of Kageyama who’s slumping lowly against the snack dispenser from the awkward distance. His stubbly finger is pointed at the chocolates, with the powerful conviction of need.

“Adachi-kun! What did I tell you about pointing at people like that?” the boy’s mother quickly emerges from the crowd to take her son by the hand. Her expression is apologetic, but her son’s gaze does not break away from the box in Kageyama’s hands.

“B-but, Kokoro-chan really, really likes this chocolate. She gave me those really nice candies on Valentine’s and I want to give her something back for White Day—”

Adachi-kun’s mother smiles at him before her kind expression is replaced with one of remorse. “That’s very sweet of you... But these young men saw it first and probably want to give this chocolate to the girl they like too. Let’s go buy Kokoro-chan something else, okay?”

Seeing the boy literally droop, Oikawa and Kageyama feel something wilt inside of them too. Mumbling incoherently, he bows to Kageyama, “Sorry for pointing at you, Big Bro...”

After the boy’s mother does four consecutive bows to Oikawa and Kageyama each, the two boys retreat back to the shelf where the box of chocolates were. It’s nearly pathetic, bordering on lame. Sure, Kageyama got the chocolate, but something hollow blooms in his heart. You’ll love it, but at what cost? Just so that a kid couldn’t give back a gift for someone he loves?

Oikawa cringes in silence, his eyes glancing back and forth at the chocolate in his junior’s hands and the sunken back of the young boy. He doesn’t say but he sees himself in him—fated to lose inevitably to the whims of chance. Sighing, Oikawa ponders about his day; it just keeps getting more and more difficult for no reason. And he wants to know why.

“You can have it.”

Kageyama’s dim voice nearly throws him off. The chocolate being shoved to Oikawa’s chest is even more of a shock. His expression is painfully strained, but his needless request is genuine—and Oikawa’s pissed off again.

“Me?! I don’t want it either now. Geez...”

The younger boy furrows his brows, “So what am I supposed to do with this, senpai?”

“You tell me,” his eyes are still lingering over to the tiny figure of the boy. The postures of the two middle schoolers are that of surrender.

And surrender is what they do.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Thanks to the “whims of chance”, both Kageyama and Oikawa are lacking the gift they’d sought for you on White Day. But thanks to those same “whims of chance”, a girl out there called Kokoro-chan was going to get the best chocolates ever from a boy she liked. The feeling is not realistically satisfying, but at least they can brag a story to you one day.

Oikawa is tired out. Completely drained; battery level 0%. After leaving the shop with empty hands and a full pocket of saved money, he figured he’d get you another gift. But if it took him half a year to figure out the first one, how long was it going to take to figure out his plan B?

“Why not try something homemade? I think your feelings can convey to others better if you do it from scratch,” his mother had smiled that evening, presenting him with two bars of cooking chocolate.

Oikawa had been excited. His mother was a genius. While everyone else was giving out those crappy, factory-made chocolates, Oikawa’s gift to you was going to be straight out of his own kitchen. It was going to be perfect, ideal—

...Until he found out he didn’t have much of a talent for cooking.

So walking in the second-year hallways is volleyball celebrity Oikawa Tooru, face pallid from pulling an all-nighter to figure out how in hell his chocolate had turned green. In his hands are those treats, packed prettily in heart-patterned plastic with a satin bow (thank god for that), as an attempt to hide the fortunately less green globs of chocolate within them.

Well, if you’re not going to like the chocolate, at least you’ll appreciate the wrapping. Oikawa thinks, lazily drifting through throngs of blushing second-years.

Kageyama is on the other end of the hallway, a crumpled scrap of paper sitting in his hand. If you listen closely, you’ll hear his distinct voice forcing out a... i-is that a mantra? Thankfully, Kageyama has no intention to recite a Buddhist prayer to you on White Day—instead, it’s a love poem, uncharacteristically being brought to you by your pensive junior.

He doesn’t even recall what sparked him to write it (though he was rather suspicious of his sister’s magazines lying around the house). Did he even ask his mother or sister to proofread it? Well, he was thankful that he didn’t, because if he did, they’d either laugh or scold him for his poor use of four-character idioms.

It isn’t chocolate, but it’s straight from the heart. Yet how he wishes the incident at the candy shop didn’t have to extend all the way to little Adachi-kun’s plight. Now you were going to think of him as a joke with no prowess for literature—not that he was one in the first place...

“Oh, senpai.”

“Tobio-chan, we meet in this situation again, I see.”

Neither of them had realized that they’d reach the doors of your classroom until they locked eyes with each other. They’re both too tired to argue at this point, better yet, scorn each other. Oikawa who’d spent the night conjuring a tornado in his mother’s kitchen and Kageyama who’d surprised his family by cracking open a literature book. You’ll never know what’s coming.

“Well, here we are,” Oikawa says, tossing his gift up and down like it’s nothing more than a baseball. “The final judgment.”

“She will choose between us, Demon King-senpai.”

Oikawa’s eyebrows twitch in exasperation but he makes no move to choke the boy. “Stop calling me that, the “senpai” at the end doesn’t do any help you know... I don’t get what’s going on in your head, but may the best gift win the Y/N-chan’s heart, I guess.”

Kageyama politely nods and urges his senior to open the door. When it slides away to reveal your beautiful, smiling face, the boys’ jaws drop when they see what’s piled on your desk.

They nearly forget how popular you are. They nearly forget that there are hundreds of boys and girls out there who’re just as in love with you as they are. And what’s worse is that the mountains of chocolate, love letters and poems don’t seem to stop growing as more people crowd around you.

It’s even worse when they spot at least ten of a familiar box of chocolates in the masses. The same boxes of chocolates that they had wrestled for in the candy shop. The same boxes of chocolates that are about to be given to a certain Kokoro-chan today.

“Special”. What a lie, they both curse. Nevertheless, they surrender and join the mob of people anyway, because there is no way in hell are they going to let their late-night efforts go to waste. Even if one looks like a cat’s vomit and the other sounds like a crappy soap opera. You’ll love it anyway. And that’s what they love about you.

#haikyuu!! #haikyu #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #kageyama tobio #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama tobio imagine #kageyama x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa imagine #bruh haikyuu writing #sfw #karasuno x reader #aoba johsai x reader #oikawa x reader x kageyama

[welcometomy20s]

February 8, 2021

Welcome to the final part of the Introduction of Nijisanji. Thanks for going through all of them, if you did. It was pain to work with so much and so little. This part would cover everyone who has debuted in the year 2020.

Nijisanji IN 1st Gen

Aadya - The name means beautiful. 21 year old, who likes to play games and sing. Does dancing as a day job, so acts as a gaming nightingale. She has a knack for games in my cursory view, but that might be just the competitiveness.

Vihaan - The name means breaking dawn, kind of. Likes gaming very much, and plays them very loudly and complaining... which to be expected from this crew.

Noor - The name means light. Likes BL, coffee and beer, BL to the point she learned chinese from watching a BL drama. Basically a middle-aged man at heart, including a very nice husky voice. Does talks and games. Sings randomly and looks up to Rion, of all people. Ange mentioned her, Ange likes to mention foreign people.

Nijisanji KR 1st Gen

Min Suha - Knows the culture through their parents and has a nice voice. Sister Claire likes him, and who doesn’t? He’s freaking cool, man!

Shin Yuya - College student in virtual Seoul. Always has a smartphone at hand, does self-searching on a constant basis. Definitely has otaku knowledge, likes singing, drawing and cute things. Doesn’t like horror games, but played a lot on stream.

Plays a lot of different games, including FPS like Apex, and this is where she gets to collaborate with Japanese senpais, which is always fun to see.

Gaon - Originally Moarin’s brother, but Moarin left, so the lore changed. Has a twintail for attention purposes. Only member of Nijisanji KR to work as a job, but quit as the end of 2020. He’s pretty cool. Not nice, but definitely not a mean person either.

Han Chiho - He’s a time-displaced psychic, and so speaks with a high register. High register is usually seen as old, people don’t use it anymore, but it’s usually perfectly understandable... it’s an interesting quirk. Other than that, pretty normal streamer.

2020 Part 1 (Jan-Apr)

Furen E Lustario - During debut, expressed a liking choking oneself... so we know who we are dealing with. Has to add using fingers, as to illustrate her math prowess. But overall a fun person to watch, and has a pretty good variety of streams.

Melissa Kinrenka - Wants to be a songwriter, but still needs help. But she is a great singer, and can write and mix songs. Usually called Meli. Has a deep side, basically.

Ibrahim - Originally an oil prince, but now runs an onsen. Acts like a child at times due to his supposed past, and he is muslim, as the lore and name implies. But overall, fits right in with the child-like male of Nijisanji... kind of.

Nagao Kei - He’s an exorcist, but really does any job. Pretty good at all kinds of fighting. Pretty old in terms of human member at the age 26. Very much like Ibrahim, but much more bishonen, which melts a woman's heart. Oh, he’s good at learning stuff. Like he tries to learn morse code, and completely memorized the KTANE manual. Just to make Fumi, one of his seniors, happy for a while. That’s some big dedication.

Genzuki Tojiro - Works as a secretary for the gods. Has that unmatching haircut. Very good at making songs and does mixing for Nijisanji events.

Kaida Haru - A demon researcher, but too lazy. Quiet and nice voice leading the viewer to see him as a mother figure, but as you guess, he doesn’t like it due to the work. Oh, said a slur on stream but got banned less than Yumeoi, which is quite sus.

Nijisanji ID Gen 3

Azura Cecillia - An alien angel. Has a sword with a really long name, but calls it Chonsuke for short. She’s pretty cute and a little bit ditzy, from what I remember. Got mistaken as a boy, which is such an odd thing, but maybe it’s the deep voice?

Nara Haramaung - A princess of a tribe. Originally released as part of 1st gen, but got delayed here, but the gen mates fit together very well. Sings spontaneously sometimes.

Layla Alstroemeria - Time-traveling history major. Definitely more airheaded of the group and most child-like of the generation. But she’s pretty fun to watch, regardless.

Nijisanji KR Gen 2

So Nagi - Traveling virtual Japan, speaking fluent Japanese with a nice clear voice. Likes Ange Katrina, which she readily repriocates. Seen as the top seed in Nijisanji KR.

Lee Siu - A female kitsune, and yes from the same illustrator as Fubuki. Likes dad jokes and an endurance player and does speak three languages. Roha likes her. Occasionally can hear the apartment announcement, which is always a fun moment.

Chae Ara - She’s an angel, and a great singer. And likes to people-watch. Has a cute voice, and good at hosting. I really liked her in the streams that I watched. There’s something about her personality that speaks to me.

2020 Part 2 (May-August)

Sorahoshi Kirame - Made her name through twitter, and traded fan art with KR members. Has the same illustrator as Kanata. Couldn’t stream due to money purposes for four days, got his PC after a month of hard work. Overall a poor and diligent girl.

Asahina Akane - 1st year high-schooler. Very energetic and follow people well. Likes a Jpop band, and likes to travel as well. Also does a lot of collabs with senpais.

Suo Sango - The youngest member of the theater club, which is the theme of the latest generation. Has a wide range, and likes Sanrio and tomato. Very motherly calm voice.

Like girly anime, you know Pretty Cure and stuff. Likes western pop music as well.

Todo Kohaku - Third-year high schooler. Said she’s a lady, but she’s definitely just a normal girl. Had a good cover of Mela, and overall a decent streamer.

Kitakoji Hisui - Middle-school transfer student. Likes a lot of different things, but Minecraft is what she is most known for... I guess it makes sense.

Nishizono Chigusa - She’s the troublesome one of the theater group. Very frequently makes sexual quips. Also I thought she was a boy when I first saw her. Definitely my favorite of the newest group, and also did a stream with Matsuri as well.

And that actually has a history. You see this is not Chigusa’s first rodeo... as it is apparent, and during her previous life Matsuri and her did a sleepover, and was quite close as well... so this is actually a really nice reunion. I didn’t know that until now.

Nijisanji KR 3rd Gen

Nun Bora - A second-year high schooler, likes drawing and playing the recorder which she has a battle with So Nagi. Quick learner, apparently. Plays APEX and Fall Guys, but is competent in pretty much any game. Definitely top tier APEX player.

Akina Ray - Japanese streamer who streams in virtual Seoul. Does a morning talk show, likes baseball, since she’s from Hiroshima, and Shadowverse. She’s actually an art student and a meat lover. But overall, the most seiso art student of Nijisanji.

Lee Roha - Idol trainee from outer space, a mixed race. A bit of a ditz, with the appropriate thumbnails. Streams in Japanese on YouTube, in Korean on Twitch. Does a lot of League of Legend on twitch, and does evening piano stream. Likes Lee Siu.

Nijisanji ID 4th Gen

Etna Crimson - Half supernatural, likes to make everyone happy. Definitely not Amber from Genshin Impact, because Amber is Kizuna Ai. Okay, bad joke. Yeah, she’s good.

Bonnivier Pranaja - Originally a fisher, but quit after being swindled. Usually appears with KR streams, actually. Maybe likes Hana? Who knows.

Siska Leontyne - Security officer for shady company. Pretty good at games involving killing... make sense considering her profession. Pretty cool and laid-back.

Nijisanji KR 4th Gen

Ryu Hari - Likes to collect nightmares, likes reading and playing the electric guitar.

Shin Kiru - A 25-year old NEET, has an odd way of speaking and strange topics. Likes Rock and horror movies. He seems pretty laid-back as well.

Yang Nari - 19-year old girl from a different world who now lives in the countryside. Pretty good at hosting with her cute voice. Likes sewing, and talks in high status. She has a thing of suffering, and that kind of comes out from lore.

Oh Jiyu - She’s a female vtuber, although she looks and sounds boyish. Third-year college student representative. Speaks Korean and Japanese, and like gacha and also singing... so maybe a boyish Suisei? I’m sure she’s more normal, though.

Nijisanji ID 5th Gen

Nagisa Arcinia - Wannabe fashion designer, speaks a bunch of languages... but that’s normal for ID... yeah, she’s cute and might be a little psychopathic. Typical.

Derem Kado - 16 year old girl going to magical school, always looking for a cat, but a special cat that makes contracts and stuff. High pitched scares and gets lost.

Reza Avanluna - He’s a world chronicler, he visits and chronicles worlds in his dreams. Has a ship going on with Hana, I think? I’m not sure. Please correct this, if untrue.

There you go! All 139 extant members as of February 8th, 2021, which is the third anniversary of Nijisanji... that was a long post... even though it was in three parts. Sorry for filling the days with this... I have been busy with collecting data and so on. But I hope you have a good inkling of the landscape that is Nijisanji.

#nijisanji #vtuber #long post

[normantonpark0-blog]

Kingsford Normanton Park

Normanton Park Developer

Normanton Park is happily acquainted with you by Kingsford Huray Development which is under Kingsford Development Pte Ltd, was intertwined in Year 2000 in Hong Kong by a Hong Kong enrolled association - Kingsford Investments

Kingsford Group focus business portfolios are mainly in land progression, property the officials, plan and assembling property improvement. Consistently, we have expanded our business in Singapore, Australia and China. Kingsford has continually improving advancement, creation capability, advancement and the board in the improvement business.

Our vision is to make Kingsford a Trusted Local Brand for property holders. So we focus to see increasingly all around on customers' necessities and needs and with mix of advance development, we are made plans to collect quality and strong homes.

Consistently, we have position ourselves as a primary architect in China and have gotten different obvious distinctions and grants.

Our past showed track records in Singapore are Kingsford Hillview Peak and Kingsford Waterbay. Some track records in China are Kingsford Yu Jing Ting, Kingsford Xi Fu Qu, and others in China.

Normanton Park Residences will be our best in class uber luxury private improvement in District 5 at One Normanton Park. Normanton Park loft suite contains 1840 private units, 22 layers landed units and 8 business retail shops. To consider different clients' needs, we have given exclusively 1 space to 5 rooms unit types for contract holders and money related authorities. Normanton Park buyers can expect a super condo suite progression with full workplaces and units go with staggering city and sea see.

Normanton Park Pricing will be alluringly evaluated. It will be pronounced soon.

Region Map

Normaton Park is arranged in Prime District 5,  One Normanton Park It is near Kent Ridge Park, Science Park of Singapore, One North, National University of Singapore (NUS) and The National University Hospital (NUH).

Kent Ridge MRT Station (CC24) is the nearest MRT station from Normanton Park apartment suite which serves the float line from Harbourfront to Marina Bay.

Under District 5, Normanton Park is  under various URA masterplans, for instance, Queenstown URA Masterplan, Bukit Merah URA Masterplan and Greater Southern waterfront URA Masterplan, with a huge amount of cutting-edge empowering changes in the locale.

Normanton Park has exceptional system to huge boulevards like Farrer Road, Alexandra Road, Ayer Rajah Expressway (AYE), Central Expressway (CTE), West Coast Highway which makes it all around related with all bits of Singapore.

For consistently Groceries and Supermarket Shopping, we have wide choices like Cold Storage and NTUC that can be discovered close Normanton Park. Strip malls, for instance, The Star, Queensway Shopping Center, One North, Anchorpoint Shopping Center, IKEA Alexandra Rochester Mall are for the most part inside short drive from Normanton Park Singapore.

For schools, gatekeepers can consider Blangah Rise Primary School, New Town Primary School, Fairfield Methodist School (Primary), Queenstown Primary and CHIJ (Kellock).

Cheerful owners of Normanton Park Residences  can explore even more near to merriments with the Normanton Park territory map.  READ MORE

The Showflat Location isn't at the authentic site. You may get us to find more.

Showflat

With the objective for you to book a showflat course of action booking, fundamentally book through this official fashioner site or basically dial our arrangements hotline [phone] going before coming down to see Normanton Park Showroom. Our showflat might be closed for explicit days as a result of month to month plan bolster work or maybe shut for architect's private events. Thus all visitors are unequivocally gotten some information about a plan online before progressing down to Normanton Park Showroom to hinder any anticipated disappointment or weight that may cause to you.

For each and every contributed person whom had selected a web based gathering with us, if its all the same to you have certainty that you will be so far benefiting as much as possible from our Direct Developer Price with NO COMMISSION payable by you.

In case you had selected an internet meeting with us, you don't have to enroll again to keep up a key good ways from duplication. On the off chance that it's not all that much difficulty be have certainty that our business staff will connect with you in One hour time to insist your course of action. An email will in like manner be sent to you once enrolled with us.

We are starting at now in the early phase of Registration of Interest for Normanton Park VVIP Preview. Register your Interest exactly on schedule to be the first to see our superb Showflat once its readied for audit.

We will revive Normanton Park Balance Units Chart and Normanton Park Pricing in this official passage once the endeavor is pushed.

Benevolently note that all evening out units accessible to be bought at Kingsford Normanton Park rely upon first beginning things out serve premise. We do allow reservation of unit up to 2 hours and it is obligated to the board's underwriting.

Any Price communicated in this door is presented to change with no further notice.

Compassionately don't miss this unprecedented new apartment dispatch near Kent Ridge Park by Kingsford Huray Development.

Only 1840 specific private units + 22 layers yards + 8 retail shops are open. Register now for Normanton Park VVIP Preview today

About:

Kingsford Normanton Park is the past Normanton Park HUDC. It was worked in 1977 for the SAF personnel and their families. It was privatized to private condo suite status in 2012. In 2015, Normanton Park was first set up for total arrangement anyway was incapable. In 2017, Kingsford Huray Development successfully bought Normanton Park with a retail cost of $830.19 million when it was set up for the total arrangement the subsequent time.

Normanton Park is organized in the Prime District 5 near Kent Ridge Park. This will be most predicted best in class uber loft suite dispatch in the area. There are 9 apexes of 24-Story high including 1840 particular private units + 22 layers yards (2-Story) + 1restaurant and 7 retail shops. It is  developed by Kingsford Huray Development. To oblige different buyers' needs, Normanton Park apartment suite offers just 1 space to 5 Bedroom units with either the unblock city view or points of view overlooking the Greater Southern Waterfront. With this unprecedented colossal land zone of 61,408 Sqm/660,999 Sqft and with amazing points of view, it verifiably makes Kingsford Normanton Park Condo an engaging buy.

This unblemished progression will totally benefit by the coming change that is under Queenstown URA Masterplan, Bukit Merah URA Masterplan and Greater Southern waterfront URA Masterplan,,

The nearest MRT station from Normanton Park is Kent Ridge MRT Station (CC24) which serves the Circle Line. It gives phenomenal convenience to the occupants of Normanton Park who work in the CBD or One-North, Science Park, etc. For the people who are taking private vehicle, it moreover has extraordinary accessibility to noteworthy lanes like Farrer Road, Alexandra Road, Ayer Rajah Expressway (AYE), Central Expressway (CTE), West Coast Highway which makes it particularly connected with all bits of Singapore.

For consistently Groceries and Supermarket Shopping, we have wide choices like Cold Storage and NTUC that can be discovered close Normanton Park. Strip malls, for instance, The Star, Queensway Shopping Center, One North, Anchorpoint Shopping Center, IKEA Alexandra Rochester Mall are generally inside short drive from Normanton Park.

For schools, gatekeepers can consider Blangah Rise Primary School, New Town Primary School, Fairfield Methodist School (Primary), Queenstown Primary and CHIJ (Kellock).

Each and every happy owner can scrutinize and download both Normanton Park E-Brochure and Normanton Park Floor Plan here.

Normanton Park VVIP Preview dates and Pricing will be accounted for soon.

Architect

Kingsford Normanton Park is readily acquainted with you by Kingsford Huray Development which is under Kingsford Development Pte Ltd, was participated in Year 2000 in Hong Kong by a Hong Kong selected association - Kingsford Investments.

Kingsford Development, was set up by Chinese business visionary Mr. Cui Zhengfeng, executive of the association. He was at first from Shenyang, Mr. Cui had been an administration worker before he transformed into a maker and a short time later a land fashioner. He has another property progression association in Shenyang managed by his young lady furthermore named Kingsford Development. Meanwhile, Mr. Cui is arranged in Singapore, where he transformed into a Singapore Citizen in 2014.

Kingsford Group focus business portfolios are mainly in land headway, property the board, design and manufacture property improvement. Consistently, we have broadened our business in Singapore, Australia and China. Kingsford has continually improving advancement, creation capability, advancement and the board in the improvement business.

Our vision is to make Kingsford a Trusted Local Brand for property holders. So we focus to see increasingly all around on customers' necessities and needs and with blend of advance development, we are made plans to manufacture quality and strong homes.

Consistently, we have position ourselves as a primary architect in China and have gotten different unquestionable distinctions and grants.

Our past showed track records in Singapore are Kingsford Hillview Peak and Kingsford Waterbay. Some track records in China are Kingsford Yu Jing Ting, Kingsford Xi Fu Qu, and others in China.

[pumpernickel-simswood]

A Devoted Friend: Pt 3

Part 1 Part 2

Marinette got up and quickly helped set the table. 

Adrien, polite as ever, ended up sitting between Sabine and Marinette. He waited for everyone else to begin eating before he started.

"So," Tom said between bites, "what were you kids studying? Is there a big exam coming up?"

"No, actually, it was a business plan Adrien made for me." Marinette replied, sounding equal parts proud of Adrien and blown away that it was for her.

Both sets of parental eyebrows went up.

Adrien swallowed and smiled politely, "Well, I overheard Marinette discussing opening an online store for her designs and I… I have access to a well of knowledge about that, especially for fashion, so I don't see why I wouldn't help her."

"That's very sweet of you, Adrien." Sabine smiled, "Thank you."

"It's nothing, really." Adrien looked down, feeling his cheeks warm.

"Even if that's true," Marinette began. He glanced up to find earnest eyes peering at him. She continued, "I'm incredibly grateful you put any time into helping me."

"Of course, Mari," Adrien said immediately, "we're friends."

Marinette canted her head at that, slightly.

***

"Thanks so much, Marinette!" Rose hugged her tightly.

"Of course, Rose." Marinette grinned and hugged back.

"We'll see you at school." Juleka smiled.

"Of course." Marinette waved.

"Bye~!" Rose waved back and they descended the stairs.

"And now, Adrien." Marinette muttered as she turned to look at him with an analytical eye. She let out a long sigh, "You got taller again."

A chuckle escaped Adrien, "Sorry?"

"Let's hope I made the pants too long." Mari shook her head in amusement. 

"Capris could work if they aren't." Adrien suggested easily. 

"Uh-huh, sure. Just go try them on, long legs." Marinette laughed.

Adrien snickered and took the clothes, "Be right back."

Marinette made some notes as Adrien changed. The wiki was gonna have to get updated once she actually checked his height. She was pretty sure his shoulders had gotten a bit wider too but she'd have to check.

"So, good news and bad news." Adrien said, stepping from behind the screen, "Good news, the pants fit perfect."

Marinette turned to him, "What's the bad ne- Oh my G-d."

Adrien's shirt was a good inch too short, his midsection showing, "I mean, it's not that bad."

"Adrien, it's at least an inch too short." Marinette put her hands on her hips.

"Truuuue." Adrien chuckled. 

"Alright, let's get measurements." Marinette laughed. 

***

"Alright, I just gotta make you a new shirt." Marinette said, looking up from her notes.

"I can buy replacement fabric if you want?" Adrien offered.

"No, I have enough left over, but thank you. Hopefully neither Ivan or Luka hit a growth spurt before next week." Marinette laughed. "Also, do those colors work for you?"

"Green and black?" Adrien's lips pulled into a playful smirk, "Yeah, I like to think so."

Marinette's brow furrowed but she nodded and made another note, "Okay, good. You can change back, by the way. At the very least, I need the pants back. Not sure how I'll repurpose the shirt yet…"

"Well," Adrien stepped behind the screen to change, "if you just shorten it, then I could have an awesome crop top."

"You want me to?" Marinette asked, surprised. 

"Yeah, the material is awesome and super soft. Plus, may as well make it a crop top when it's already short, right?" Adrien replied.

"Fair point." She shrugged, actively pushing down the desire to imagine him in it.

"Pretty please?" Adrien offered the shirt, redressed.

"Okay." Marinette held it up to his chest, "Where should I cut it to?"

"Uh, here." Adrien indicated. 

Marinette grabbed a marker and made a quick mark. And shortly she handed him the shirt back, now officially a crop top.

"Thanks Mari." Adrien beamed and kissed her cheek, "You're the best. See you later."

Marinette blinked after him as he climbed down the stairs. She raised a hand to her cheek then melted into her chair, "Yeah."

***

"Ugh, and they want Cat Noir specifically to show up for their birthday party." Alya groaned.

"To be fair, that's not that far of a stretch to get. You do actually know Cat. Plus he's pretty good with kids from what I hear." Marinette shrugged, hands in pockets. 

"I know but I dread asking him a favor like that. It seems like small potatoes compared to what he does daily." Alya argued.

Marinette snorted, "Alya, their patrols literally involve getting kittens out of trees and retrieving balloons most days. Just ask. I'm positive he'd love to."

"How can you be so sure?" Alya squinted at her friend.

"Cuz I've met him? And we did work together for Evillustrator, remember? Besides, I've seen how many pics you've gotten of him for your Instagram." Marinette started walking away. "And if you don't ask him, I'll do it for you."

"Hey! No! Don't you dare!" Alya bolted after her.

"I think his solo patrol comes by my balcony tonight, actually." Marinette hummed thoughtfully.

"Why on Earth would you know that? They always randomize their patrol schedules." Alya frowned.

"Because I keep track of everyone's schedules due to my anxiety and I noticed he does what might appear to be a random pattern but is actually just an extended rotational schedule. It, of course, varies based on akuma attacks, but he should pass my balcony tonight on his patrol." Marinette explained with an air of discussing weather.

Also he'd told Ladybug on their last patrol, but it did fit the schedule she kept so.

"Girl, can I just say I'm glad you're not on Hawkmoth's side?" Alya said.

Marinette shrugged, "So, sleepover?"

"Yes!" Alya grinned.

***

Cat Noir bounded across rooftops,delighted by the feeling of weightlessness at the apex of every leap. Things had been quiet so far tonight. A few strays to feed and that one shelter that needed an extra set of hands, but nothing big. Which was great.

He grinned as he raced across the top of his school. He could see the familiar and inviting balcony lights shining tonight. He was going to have to figure out how she always seemed to know when he was out and about one of these days.

As he got closer, he noticed Alya was up there with the princess tonight. Huh. Maybe tonight was a coincidence. Either way.

A well timed jump and flip landed him neatly atop the railings.

Alya jumped and yelped.

Mari simply glanced up, a playful smile pulling at her lips, "Hey Cat."

"Good evening, ladies." He bowed deeply. "Sorry to startle you, Alya."

"N-no, it's okay. I just didn't see you coming." Alya mumbled.

"He is pretty fast." Marinette shrugged. Her eyes returned to Cat, "Aren't you, showoff?"

Cat chuckled at that and crouched, "Oh, so you did see that awesome flip."

"I've seen better." Marinette said.

"Meowch, you wound me, Purrincess." Cat dramatically placed his hands over his heart.

"Mm-hm." Marinette was clearly trying not to laugh. It egged him on more than he cared to admit. She, sadly, turned to a very confused Alya, "Anyway, Alya wanted to ask you something."

"Oh?" Cat canted his head toward the blogger.

"Oh, uh, right." Alya took a deep breath, "I was hoping that you could maybe put in a quick appearance at my sisters' birthday party?"

Cat blinked, "The tall, kinda scary, buff one or the twins?"

Marinette snorted.

"Hey! You try fighting a boxer with spider powers!" Cat objected.

Marinette fell into giggles, "No, not that, just the idea that Anasi would want you at her birthday party."

"It could happen." Cat crossed his arms and scowled.

"Uh, for the twins." Alya interrupted, though she was looking curiously between them.

"I would love to. When is it though?" Cat turned back.

"In two weeks, on Sunday." Alya replied.

Cat hummed, trying to remember if he had anything scheduled, "I think I'm free. I'll message you on the forum when I get home and double check."

"Thank you!" Alya grinned.

"Of course." Cat smiled easily.

Mari nudged Alya, "I told you."

"Fine, you were right. There was nothing to worry about." Alya sighed.

"Hey, if you need anything Alya, seriously, let me know." Cat said.

Alya smiled, "Thank you, Cat."

Marinette picked up a plate of cookies that had somehow escaped his notice and handed them over to the hero.

Cat beamed as he took one, "Y'know Princess…"

"If it weren't for the Bug having your heart, you'd marry me for my baking alone?" Marinette raised a brow and practiced recital, eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Can you blame me?" He chuckled, wrapping the plate back.

"Well! If that's all I'm good for!" Marinette crossed her arms with a huff, though her playful air never truly left her.

"Oh, c'mon, Purrincess, if that was all that drew me here, I'd just buy from the bakery mask off." Cat leaned his face close to Marinette's, sincere and earnest, "You know you're one of my best friends."

She turned her pursed lip glower to stare intently at him. She sighed and turned away, cheeks pinking some, "Yeah, I know. You're one of mine too, Kit."

His heart filled with warm delight. He really loved her caring so much about him. It made him feel so full of light. He knew he was grinning ridiculously but couldn't bring himself to care, even with their audience.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Go fall off a balcony, Prince Ali." Marinette snorted.

"Oh, as the princess wants." Cat saluted and fell backwards off the balcony.

With quick, well honed reflexes, he bounded back up with his baton onto the next roof, never losing grip of the plate of cookies.

"I want that plate back when you're done!" Mari called after him.

He turned, bowed one last time and bound off. He was almost out of earshot when Alya spoke.

“Girl, what the hell was that!?”

Part 1 Part 2

@ijustwannabecanadian @rianoel @hellolovelyscientist @theworldslittlesis

#a devoted friend #a devoted friend pt 3 #nobu writes #nobu writes 2019 #ml fanfic

[littlemonstersau-blog]

The Feels Awaken Part 1: Return of the Memori

Written by @jkl-fff, illustrated by me

PART I (you are here)  - PART II

———————————————————————————————–

The lone wolf sat and watched, and that was an excellent development; the creature was learning to wait patiently, even though it was a wild, apex predator and doubtlessly could have ripped the dead squirrel from the hands of a teenage boy with ease (under normal circumstances, at least). Of course, since Bill was only wearing the clone of a teenage boy, he probably had an advantage in training the lone wolf. It could sense him—the real him—inside the clonesuit, and therefore was wary of making any aggressive moves … Animals always were around Demons, unlike most humans. Another instance when instinct trumped intellect …

So, instead, the lone wolf sat and watched patiently while Bill swung the dead squirrel around by its tail. Sat and waited for Bill’s conversational monologue to end.

“You’re prob’ly wondering why I haven’t eaten your soul like I did Chatterface McBurymynuts right here. And why I’ve taken to feeding you the soulless carcasses of my victims in person instead of just leaving them out for you. Well, I got three reasons. One: I like your aesthetic; you’re nearly all triangles in shape—really angular all over your body—and I really dig that. You’re relatably triangular, and I wanna see more of that in the world. Two: you’re endangered; if I let you live, there will be more wolves (so more angular creatures) in the world … and also more werewolves, which would be weird and awesome. And three …” Here, with a grin, Bill tossed the dead squirrel high and watched as the lone wolf snatched it out of the air. “Yeah, that’s right, wolf it down—heh heh! The third reason is, I’m gonna partially domesticate you and train you to pull me around in a sweet-ass chariot! Doesn’t that sound rad?!”

Having swallowed the last of the squirrel, the lone wolf turned and padded away into the woods.

“Don’t worry, we’ll talk more about how awesome my idea is later!” Bill called after him. “Just think a bit about what a fair exchange it would be! Actually, it’s a great deal for you! Tasty treats just for letting me occasionally ride you into battle like a chaotic, Norse deity! We can workshop ideas about the chariot’s design next time!”

On a nearby branch, a bird chirped.

“No, I think the wolf’s gonna seriously consider my offer,” Bill replied optimistically. “This is all just part of the deal-making game, which you’d understand if you weren’t a dumbass robin.”

The bird chirped again, then flew away.

“… Welp, that killed some time. Guess I’d better go back to the Shack and find some other activity to pass away the seemingly endless seconds until I get to skyelp with my Dipper …”

While he was tromping back through the woods, however, Bill was distracted by an unusual, yet strangely familiar sound. Juddering and throaty, then sharp and quick, then juddering and throaty again. Repetitive, too, though intermingled with a soft noise almost like keening or … no, exactly like whimpering. Then it clicked for Bill, even though he hadn’t heard that sound in over thirty years. It was the sound of a grown man sobbing. And not just any man, either, but Ford.

Softly, Bill crept towards him, eventually looking through bushes to the stump of a felled tree. Ford sat on it, hunched over and alone, crying as though he couldn’t hold back his own tears … as though he were too weary to hold them back anymore … That was probably why he’d come all the way out here in the woods, Bill suspected, where no one could see his moment of emotional vulnerability. Or so he had believed, at any rate, not knowing Bill was out here …

On Ford’s lap was an open book with brightly—even garishly—colored pages. One of the many scrapbooks Mabel had made. In between bouts of sobs, he slowly turned the pages and murmured things like, “Can’t believe she came b-back with a whole handful of it … So t-tough, even though always so sweet …” and “Terrified, but he f-faced it down anyway … for me … And I was s-so … so proud …” and “Heh! That f-fashion show she put together for Pacifica, made us all t-take part in … Can’t remember when I laughed so h-hard …” and “Oh, here’s that Jack o’Mellon he carved like the Gremloblin … from m-memory … So t-talented … And then they went trick-or-treating together both as the protagonist from that one game series—Myth of Hilda, or something like that?—Moses, it was adorable …” to himself. With each turn of a page, he was reminiscing about something different from the past summers: family game nights, hikes and fishing, short roadtrips, and on and on and on … Ford himself summed it up succinctly when he finally closed the scrapbook, buried his face in his hands, and whimpered, “Damn, I m-miss those kids!”

For a moment, a spark of bitter satisfaction flared up in Bill (“Good. Let that asshole suffer.”). And yet, it was soon doused by empathetic pity and sorrow (“I feel the same, though—we all feel the same … We all miss those kids …”). Then came a splash of feeling surprised, because of all the pity and sorrow; they were still such strange emotions for him as to be almost foreign. Following that, a bit of meta-emotional introspection at realizing he was feeling about feelings. Fortunately, before Bill could become too confused and horrified by the idea that he had become so human as to have feelings about having feelings, Ford stood and slowly trudged back home. After a safe amount of time had elapsed, Bill did the same.

Inside the Shack, sitting on the card table in the living room, was the scrapbook (no doubt left there by Ford on his way down to his lab). Along with several more of them. Picking up the most recent one, Bill began to flip slowly through its colorful pages filled with photos, stickers, notes, and miscellaneous memorabilia.

And as he did, he began to flip slowly through his own memories …

****

Terrified screams as he burst forth from his prison of a stone statue, rose up over them out of his shell (“Did you miss me? Admit it, you missed me!”), and tried to … tried to …

Bill shuddered to think of what he had almost done—what he surely would have done, if he had had enough power at the time. “Thank all the Gods that ever were or will be that that failed …” he muttered to himself.

Making little overtures of friendship—or at least not-malice—to Mabel until he got her to listen to his spiel about wanting to understand how he lost to them and to change and blah blah blah. Ford’s utter disbelief that the others could be so easily suckered. Entering a clone that first time and devouring that delicious little bit of soul in it (“Yum! Tastes just like mangoes and fear!”).

“They shouldn’t have. Ford was right that I was plotting their doom back then … Not anymore, but they all took a huge and stupid gamble, and just happened to get lucky … We all did …”

Steel slicing through paper and ink, dumping the scraps of bodies left, right, and center and relishing the screams of surprise (“Hehehehehe! What, you didn’t like my joke? You wanna … piece of me? Hahaha! Well, take your pick, there are plenty of pieces of me there on the floor!”). Sharpening his teeth to fine points to chomp at people. Gouging out his own eye. So much edge and shock at play, cold and hot at the same time, hilarious ticklings of pain.

“Such a waste of clonesuits,” Bill sighed. “And … all for the sake of just shocking them? Taking advantage of their love of Dipper? Stupid—can’t believe I thought that was funny at the time … So much time wasted during those first few weeks of the summer. Don’t wanna remember that, not anymore … wanna remember something else, something happier …”

Jokes so bad they made everyone groan, which made everyone laugh. Fireworks made of lasers. Taking part in an impromptu fashion show for the newest line of summer sweaters. Watermelons carved into jolly grotesqueries, lit with candles, and eventually tossed from the roof to splat. Making muffins with apple and cinnamon. Uncontrollable laughter at a rock shaped like a dong and after arcs of water accidentally melted another clonesuit. Wonderous eyes aglow with uncontainable excitement and the soft light of an everadiant crystal. Warmth of a shared blanket and the fun betrayal of an ambush of tickling underneath them. Kisses snuck around corners, behind doors, within shadows, inside the safety of a Nice Place.

“Heh …” Bill couldn’t help but smile to himself. “Even when I start out with all the others, too, it always comes back to him … But maybe I should focus more, not just look at the flashes and snapshots of memory? Delve in deeper to some memories? After all, what’s the point of perfect recall if I hardly ever use it? But, um …” Looking around the currently empty (though perhaps not for long) living room, he closed the scrapbooks and stood up. “Maybe up in the attic, where there’s a little more privacy …”

****

It was one specific memory that detoured his chain of thoughts, as memories tend to do.

Dipper. Sitting on a couch with Ford standing behind him, reaching over the couch to him. Flushed with simple happiness as Ford tousled his hair and praised his monster hunting work from that day. “Good boy, m’work! Er, I mean, good work, m’boy!” he had said, making Dipper smile so big and bright that the room had practically glowed with it. Bill’s insides certainly had.

Déjà vu, though, he had felt it then, too, remembering it. Almost exactly déjà vu … So Bill decided to follow the tangential thread of it now.

A young Ford, seventeen or eighteen, maybe—not yet out of high school. Sitting on the couch of his childhood home. A young Stan standing behind him, reaching over the couch to him.

“Oh, yeah … That’s why it’s so familiar; I watched it in Sixer’s memory and then more or less reenacted it for him. With him. Whatever, twice. Back when we were still working together, back when we were still friends …”

A young Ford flushed with simple happiness as Stan tousled his hair and praised his shipbuilding from that day. “You’re such a good cabin boy! Good work, me ol’ cabin boy!” he had said, making Ford smile so big and bright that—here the déjà vu ended and became simple memory— (“Pff! Why am I the cabin boy?” “Duh. ‘cause I’m the captain!” “Why do you get to be captain?” “Heh. ‘cause I can do this!”) Stan had swung over the top of the couch to drape himself across Ford. Pinning Ford down, while both brothers trashtalked and giggled and squirmed … and then gradually began to kiss …

“Was this the first time Sixer and me …? Ha! Yeah, it totally was! The very first time I set Sixer’s mindscape stage and played a part for him to work out some of his many, many issues. First of many … How’d it go, anyway? How’d we even get to this point? Need to rewind …”

Bill blinked, and the scene formed. Ford’s mindscape as it once had been: an endless field of strange but beautiful flower blossoms stretched to the horizon in every direction, with gleaming structures like the lovechildren of marble-cut temples and glass-and-steel skyscrapers rising in the distance-yet-closeness-of-thought like the aspirations of some new deity of science-fiction-becoming-science-fact, bold and untainted by the conformist conventions of old; swirling slowly overhead, so close one could have climbed up and touched, was a vault of stars, galaxies, quasars far larger than they appeared from earth and blazing so brightly that the field below them was as illuminated as a comfortable reading room; stairways made of books and journals ascended high to viewing platforms made of solid theories, equations, and blueprints all like shining neon signs.

Bill blinked again, and he saw himself chattering away about whatever had been their project. There was Ford, a late-twenties man and cutting-edge weirdologist in a weatherworn trenchcoat. Unusually subdued that day, though … Normally nigh manic with energy and enthusiasm, overflowing with ideas and theories and observations and cornball jokes to contribute to or even to drive the conversation … but not that day … No, that day, he barely listened to Bill or looked at the images and organizing visual aids Bill had mentally conjured for their brainstorm together. And when Bill turned to see why, he found Ford’s back was to him as he gazed away out across a sentimentally altered portion of the mindscape: salty sand strewn with bits of trash at the edge of a turbulent sea, all under clouds that were dusky and dusty from reflecting the dying daylight, and a sailboat at the center of Ford’s attention and therefore of his mind … listing and sinking into dark waters, the name on the prow all but lost to the waves—“Stan o’ War” now just “Stan”.

Bill watched the rest of what had happened as one might watch oneself on camera.

“Oh boy … I smell emotional issues …” he muttered before floating up beside Ford’s shoulder. “Got something on your mind, Fordsy ol’ buddy? Besides me, that is.”

“S-sorry, I just, um, got distracted,” Ford stammered apologetically. “I’ll try harder to focus. Won’t happen aga—”

“Because of your brother? It’s the anniversary of the day he got kicked out of the family, right?”

Ford gaped in shock for a moment. “… You … You know about that? But how?”

“For one thing, all the trash ‘round here is crumpled or torn up calendar pages for the same date. For another, I’m your Muse,” Bill replied, as though it should have been obvious. “I’m literally inside your head with all your memories at my fingertips, looking for anything I can use to help inspire your success.”

Blanching white, Ford asked, “All of them? You can s-see … all my memories?”

“Yep times a thousand! So I know you and your brother were—heh—close before that incident.”

Ford blushed.

“So no wonder you get distracted thinking about him today. Wasn’t that the last time you ever saw him?” Bill continued conversationally.

“Um, I … Maybe I m-might’ve seen him once after that. During my college graduation, but … Don’t know, honestly,” Ford admitted sadly. “Might’ve just imagined him being in the crowd.”

“Wishful thinking? ‘cause you got some stuff to get out of your system with him?” Bill waggled his eyebrow, making Ford blush a second time. Before he could respond, though, Bill suggested, “Y’know, I could help you unpack some of that emotional baggage you’re lugging around. Which’d help us get back to productive work sooner—get you from distracted back to tracted.”

“First of all, that’s not a word—”

“It is now that I’ve used it! Tracted, adjective, the state of being that comes after one has been distracted but is focusing once again.”

“Second of all … How could you help with that?”

“Why, with a little bit of roleplay. I know how much you love to roleplay, Fordsy ol’ pal.”

“I don’t know …” Ford said uncertainly. “This isn’t exactly a D&D&MoreD campaign. Besides, this is hardly an appropriate setting, and … well, no offense, but your voice and mannerisms aren’t exactly reminiscent of Stan (or most humans, for that matter). I doubt I could get into it.”

“Heh. You’re just saying that ‘cause you ain’t never seen what a good actor I can be. Goes with the territory of being a MASTER OF THE MIND! Watch this!” Bill clapped once, then suddenly multiplied into a dozen more Bills.

“Whoa! What the—”

From nowhere, the original Bill pulled a megaphone, a chair with the words “Director” and “Leading … Well, Not ‘Man’ Per Se, But Close Enough” on its back, and a thick script. “OKAY, YOU SUPER SNAZZY STAGECREW,” he projected through the megaphone. “LET’S GET THIS STAGE CLEARED AND READY FOR A NEW SCENE! LET’S MOVE! AND SOMEONE GET ME A TWO-CREAMS-ONE-SUGAR COFFEE AND A MAPLE LOG! What about you, Fordsy? You want anything? Same thing, yeah? DOUBLE THAT ORDER! ONE FOR ME, ONE FOR MY COSTAR!”

Slack jawed at all the activity flurrying around him—one Bill pulled a rope from nowhere, causing the seascape (while waves continued to toss, clouds continued to billow, and the ship continued to sink) to part down the middle like a theater curtain and swish away; another Bill pulled a massive pushbroom from nowhere and cleared away all of the beach (sand, trash, and salty odor) to leave a hardwood platform beneath; several other Bills were now wheeling away the endless fields of flowers that stretched to the horizon (plus the phantasmagorical buildings standing among them) like scenery backdrops painted on squeaky canvas frames—Ford could only mumble, “Costar?”

“Well, duh, Fordsy ol’ chum. We’ll be centerstage, you and me, and in the spotlight together—me as Stanly, you as yourself. If that doesn’t make us costars, I don’t know what does!”

“BOOOOOO!” another Bill shouted from behind them, seated in a newly revealed spectator section with boxes of popcorn. “Directors shouldn’t play parts in their own productions! That’s a crass and masturbatory act of egotism that invariably cheapens the production! BOOOOOO!”

“Just ignore heckling critic me,” the original Bill told Ford. “Now, speaking of the spotlight … LET’S GET THE LIGHTING AND SOUNDCHECKS DONE, MES! TIME IS MONEY! AND WHERE’S OUR COFFEE AND DONUTS ALREADY?! WHAT AM I PAING YOU FOR?!”

Yet another Bill came trundling up with a long rack of costumes that looked exactly like the contents of Ford and Stan’s old bedroom closet. While going through them, he pointed out, “You’re not paying us for anything, babygorgeous, because we don’t actually exist. We’re just visual constructs you conjured to represent the complex yet entirely abstract process of manipulating a mindscape into a specific scenario Stanford can experience (or reexperience in the case of actual memories) so it feels to him as if it was entirely real. This whole setting is, too. Also because you’re extremely melodramatic, overly theatrical, and crave being the center of someone’s awed attention, sugardumpling.”

“One more smart-alecky remark like that, and you’re fired!” the original Bill snapped.

“No! Please, angelpie, I need this job! I need the money, or they’re gonna break my legs!”

“Fine. Just go get the makeup equipment already. AND WHERE ARE WE ON THE LIGHTS?!”

Ford looked up to see a span of catwalks and electrical equipment overhead. The Bill up there gave a thumbs up. “Good to go, boss! Same with sound, too!”

A new Bill came running up with a platter. “Here’s your coffee and donuts, sir!”

“Freakin’ finally!” the original Bill exclaimed, passing over one of each to Ford before snatching the others for himself. “I’d have you dragged into the alley behind this soundstage and shot for taking so long, except we’re not actually in a soundstage and you’re just too darn cute to kill.”

“Oh, sir, you’re gonna make me blush!”

Taking a bite out of his maple log with his eyelid, the original Bill snapped, “Stop being so cute and go find something useful to do.” Then, turning back to Ford, he continued lightly, “Yep, costars, you and me! Collaborators! Partners in … What? There something on my face?”

With a gulp, Ford asked, “Is … Is that how you eat? With your eye?”

Bill smiled despite not having a mouth. “Only when I’m in polite company.” Then he took a sip of his coffee—a long, slow sip while looking right at his weirdologist friend (who spazzed reflexively at the sight of coffee washing into sclera). “But now that mes have cleared the stage, we should really pick the scene we’re gonna roleplay. So what you wanna do, Fordsy ol’ mate? Relive a memory, act out a hypothetical conversation/argument to get some words off your chest, or experience a fantasy in real-body-stimulating intensity? Whatever you want, I can do for ya.”

“I, um …” Shaking his head, Ford admitted, “There’s just … so much. When I think about him. About everything that happened then. And before. And after. And I … I just … can’t process it enough to … y’know, make sense of how I feel about it all? Gah! Can you understand that, Bill? The only thing I know for sure right now is … is I miss him … even if I don’t know what I’d do if I saw him right now …”

Bill blinked a bite off his maple log, then chewed thoughtfully, ignoring the other Bills (“Hey, guys, wanna see something funny? MacBeth!” “Don’t say that! It’s bad lu—” A sandbag smashed into that Bill from above. “Hehehehehehe! I got more!” Then he whistled sharply. “Argh! You can’t do that either, it’s also bad lu—” A light fixture exploded, blasting the Bill on the catwalk off so that he kersplatted onto the platform. “Hahahahaha! How about this one? Good luck during the performance!” “No, you fool, you’ll kill us all if you say—” “Guys, you think this pyrotechnic equipment still works?” a different, oblivious Bill asked right before pushing a button. The bad luck would’ve been spectacular had anyone paid attention.) now milling about the visual construct of an empty stage which represented a mindscape ready for shaping. Eventually, he suggested, “Tell you what, Fordsy ol’ comrade, let me choose for you this time. I think I know what you need right now to feel better, and it’ll be an actual memory of a good time you two had together. Something … positive and fun and a little whacky to help you get out of this slump. Whaddya say? Trust me enough to follow my lead in the roleplay?”

A glum shrug. A passive affirmation. “Sure, why not?”

And then original Bill was broadcasting through his loudspeaker, “OKAY, LOOK ALIVE, TRIANGULAR TROOP! LET’S GET THE STAGE SET FOR SCENE #618: ‘CABIN BOY AND CAPTAIN NOBEARD, THE COUCH PIRATE’!”

Ford blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I WANT IT READY TO PERFORM IN—”

“BOOOOOO!” the spectating Bill suddenly shouted, spraying popcorn everywhere. “That choice is a cliché and uninspired piece of saccharine hackery! Also, it’s practically meta-theater, which always sucks because only self-inflating, pomposity-spewing fartbags think it’s clever to make plays that are ham-fistedly obvious metaphors for making plays! BOOOOOO!”

“So it’s perfect for our director,” one of the Bills stage whispered, making the others giggle.

“I HEARD THAT!” the original Bill snapped. “DON’T YOU HAVE PROPS TO SET UP?! ACTION IN FIVE, MES! AND WHERE’S THE ME FOR COSTUME AND MAKEUP?!”

“Right here, angeldoll! And ready to get Starford suited up!” That Bill wheeled a vanity piled high with brushes, pencils, and cosmetics right to them. He then pulled an outfit off the rack, scrutinized it, put it back, pulled out another, nodded his approval, and zoomed over to slap it onto Stanford’s body. Right before assaulting his face with a blur of all the cosmetic products—powder, rouge, eyeliner, etc. All of it happened so fast Stanford didn’t even have time to protest, and when the air cleared and he stopped coughing, that particular Bill was adjusting a mirror before his face. “What do you think, honeydear? Don’t you just look divine?”

Breathless with astonishment, Ford touched first the mirror’s surface … then his own face … “Incredible!” he breathed. “I look seventeen!”

“If I did my job right, teddypearl, you don’t just look seventeen. Your whole body (or astral form dream body, technically, sweetiedumpling) should be seventeen down to the smallest of details. Now, if you want, I could also do your nails and hair so you look even more divine than you did at seventeen, darlingpeaches.”

“Nope, we want his ratio of divineness to undivineness to be exactly as it was then, thank you,” the original Bill dictated abruptly. “Now let’s get me suited up for—oh, Azathoth’samygdala!” Snatching up the megaphone, he bawled, “TVS GO IN FRONT OF COUCHES, NOT BEHIND, YOU IDIOTS! AND YOU’VE GOT THE BACKDROPS MIXED UP! C’MON, YOU MES ARE SUPPOSED TO BE MORE PROFESSIONAL THAN THIS!”

Ford tore his eyes from the mirror and looked onstage. The living room of his parents’ house was being formed by a bunch of Bills pushing frames of painted canvas (reproductions of the walls) and setting up prop after prop (a couch, a rabbit-eared TV, old chairs, side tables with doilies, framed photos, knickknacks, bric-a-brac, that hideous lamp with the more hideous curtain shade he had always wanted to smash to bits, etc.); it looked exactly as he remembered … No, it looked more accurate than he remembered … He could even smell the dusty, musty carpeting and hear the tacky windchimes outside the window …

“There, treasurebear, you look ready for your big part. And divine, too! Simply divine!”

“Thanks, me. Looks like you won’t be fired today,” the original Bill decided.

“I can’t believe you could recreate the old place. Every little detail—” Ford turned to Bill, then felt his knees buckled beneath him; he had to grab onto a corner of the vanity not to fall over. Standing before him in a dissipating cloud of face powder was the seventeen-year-old version of his twin brother. “… St-Stan?”

Bill grinned with Stanly’s cocky, crooked grin. “Or close enough. Oh, sorry.” Clearing his throat, he then repeated in Stanly’s husky voice, “Or close enough. Right, Sixer?”

Stepping forward, Ford laid his hands on the shoulders of the boy in front of him. They felt real. Solid and strong through the t-shirt, with the kind of ropey muscles regular boxing gave a person. Same for the arms and the chest, although there was a little pudge on top of the muscles there (just like Stan had … or had had the last time Ford had seen him for certain) thanks to a nervous tendency to overeat … It all felt so real … so achingly real …

“Done feelin’ up the merchandise yet, Sixer?” Bill-Stan teased. “I could flex for ya, if ya want.”

“How … How are you doing this?” Ford whispered, his voice almost trembling.

As one, all of the Bills dropped what they were doing and turned to face him, then clapped and spread their hands. A rainbow spread between every set of palms. “THROUGH THE POWER OF IMAGINATION, FORDSY OL’ COMPADRE! AFTER ALL, I AM YOUR MUSE!”

Fingers clenching into the fabric of the t-shirt, throat constricting, Ford said, “Stan, I … I …”

“You’re not gonna start blubberin’ on me, are ya, Sixer?” Bill-Stan asked coaxingly. “Not before all the fun even starts?”

“N-no … No, I’m in c-control. Ahem! Of myself.” Ford composed himself, feigned brushing some dust off his clothes, then resumed, “So, um, you said something about following your lead in a roleplay?”

Grinning more widely than before, Bill-Stan took him by the hand (sending a jolt of long ignored and even half-forgotten emotions through the weirdologist) and led him onstage …

The thing about a person’s mindscape (or about a person’s dreams, since they’re the same thing, essentially) is they’re completely immersive. To the brain, they’re almost as real as reality itself; every ganglia involved in processing sensory input for the one is equally involved with the other. Which explains why dreams usually feel real enough that a person can forget they’re dreaming. Which explains why a true master of the mind can manipulate a person’s mindscape enough that, with just the right triggering image (such as walking through a conjured doorway or stepping onto a conjured theater stage), the person can believe what they’re experiencing is real, and even actually find traces of the mental experience on their physical body afterwards.

Especially if the person really wants to dream, to believe, to be manipulated by the master …

That was why Ford knew with certainty that he was sweaty and dirty after hours of working on the Stan o’ War, knew with certainty he was trudging into the living room of his family home, and collapsed onto what he knew with certainty was a sagging couch likely as old as he was (seventeen years). He also knew with certainty that he heard the jangling of the house phone in the hallway, and then the voice of who he knew with certainty was his twin brother answering it. That knowing certainty was manifest in every gesture he made; it even shone in his eyes.

A moment later, Stan was leaning over the top of the couch. Sweaty and dirty, too, since he’d been working on the Stan o’ War, too. “Heh. You look beat, Sixer. But if anyone’s got the right, it’s you. I mean, after all that hard work today? And figuring out the waterproofin’ stuff, too?” Then Stan reached over the couch and tousled his brother’s hair. “I guess what I’m saying is … You’re such a good cabin boy! Good work, me ol’ cabin boy!”

Ford beamed with pleasure at the praise and the loving gesture, yet still retorted (because having a brother means living in a perpetual argument, at the very least as a matter of principle), “Pff! Why am I the cabin boy?”

“Duh. ‘cause I’m the captain!”

“Why do you get to be captain?”

“Heh. ‘cause I can do this!” And then Stan swung himself over the top of the couch and dropped down onto his brother, draping himself over his brother like a heavy, sweaty, noogying blanket. “How do you like it, cabin boy? Huh? I said how do you like it, nerd? No, wait, cabin nerd!”

“Ghaha! Get off me—haha!—you’re gross from the beach!” Ford half-spewed and half-laughed beneath his twin. He was pinned against the cushions now, squirming but unable to get free.

“Heh heh! You don’t get to give the captain orders, cabin nerd! That’s not how it works aboard this ship!”

“W-we’re—hehehe!—not even on a ship!”

“Sure we are! The S.S. Couch, and I just boarded it! And you!”

“You did not have permission to come aboard!” Ford giggled, still squirming, now trying to push his twin back with his hands.

But Stan caught them both at the wrists and pinned them against the armrest, too, bearing down with his whole body. “That’s ‘cause I’m a pirate captain! Arrrrr, me matey!”

“Pff! W-what do they call you?! Nobeard?!”

“That’s ‘Captain Nobeard’ to you, cabin nerd! And I’m gonna be lootin’ yer booty!”

Ford threw his head back and laughed at so corny a line. But the laugh turned to a surprised gasp when he suddenly felt his brother (on an impulse) press his lips against Ford’s throat. It was like being hit by a single raindrop right before a spark of lightning—a single spot of warm, wet skin, then an electric jolt through his brain and body that left him rigid. Or perhaps made him realize he had been rigid already? And that his brother’s counter-squirming had taken on a decidedly grinding motion … Or had it been a grinding motion already? Ford moaned, “Aaah, St-Stan …”

“I told you, that’s ‘Captain’ to you, me ol’ cabin nerd,” Stan countered into his twin’s neck. “And I’m gonna shiver yer timber.” With that, he gave an extra hard grind, groin against groin.

“Mmmmoses! Oh … B-but, wait … What if … Dad and Mom walk in on us … like this?” 

“Heh. You can be pretty dumb for a nerd, sometimes,” Stan teased. “They went to Grandma’s today, remember? And that was them on the phone just now, callin’ to say they made it there. Even if they head home right now, it’ll be at least two hours afore they get back. So relax, okay? Just … follow my lead …”

“Y-yeah, I can … Wait.” All at once, Ford stopped, because that phrase … He suddenly didn’t know with certainty what was really going on here, nor where he really was, nor even how old he really was. Intently, he peered at the face of the boy on top of him. Was there a golden gleam in his irises, where there should only have been brown? A twinkle in the eyes, but different than the twinkle normally there. He thought he could remember who this boy actually was. “… Bill?”

Stan grinned. “Only if you’d prefer havin’ a triangle in a tophat grind against you instead of your brother.”

Ford looked around, and remembered he was on a stage. A stage that had been set by multiple copies of Bill, and that he was now pinned beneath the original Bill who was mimicking his twin down to his cornball double-entendres, the smell of his sweat … and the exact length and girth of his hardon, currently pressing down on Ford’s own hardon (the thought of which made him blush a shade deeper than he already had been—did he really remember his twin’s member that well?). In the spectators’ seating, there was another Bill now distantly shouting, “Boooooo! You ruined the flow and the affect of the whole scene! The momentum’s gone and can never be gotten back! Boooooo!” and Ford found he desperately hoped that was not the case.

“You okay, Sixer?” Stan asked. No, not Stan. Bill. Bill mimicking Stan’s voice and manerisms. Bill mimicking Stan’s body so they could …

Ford cleared his throat. “Y-yes, I am. But, er, I just want to… to make sure that you are. This, uh, scenario doesn’t … doesn’t bother you? At all?”

“What? Why would … Oh!” Stan-Bill exclaimed suddenly. “You mean ‘cause we’re not just crossin’ a bunch of taboo lines in your meatbag culture, but went a mile past ‘em and are now buildin’ a small but charmingly perverted, summer cabin we can visit at our leisure?”

“I, um … suppose that’s one way of putting it …”

“Heh heh! It’s funny how awkward you are about this!” But before Ford could get defensive, Stan-Bill continued, “Sixer, I’m not human. I’m a Muse, here to inspire you to break through arbitrary human conventions (like the restrictive barriers they are) to something higher, purer, and truer. So all the arbitrary moral codes you meatbags make for yourselves, especially where sex is concerned? Don’t apply to me, don’t affect me. Whatever you desire, whoever you desire, however you desire (no matter how weird, complex, or how many parts it needs performed) I can play out for you here in your mindscape so well it will feel real. I can give you the psychological or sexual release you need to get tracted again on our oh so important work!”

Though overwhelmed by the possibilities, Ford still maintained, “That’s not a real word …”

“Like I said before, Sixer, if you wanna relive a memory, act out a hypothetical conversation or an argument with someone (like your brother or your parents or an ex or that one bald professor you loathed), or experience a completely new fantasy altogether … I’m down. Let’s do ‘em all.”

Ford gulped. “Y-you’re sure … it doesn’t bother you? At all? I mean, this is … er …”

Stan-Bill sighed in almost-exasperation. “Look, Fordsy ol’ friend, my true form doesn’t even have sex organs. Not that you’ll be able to tell when I change shape in your mindscape and go to town with pleasurin’ you, ‘cause I’m just that good an actor—can act like I’ve always had ‘em and got tons of experience usin’ ‘em to turn people specifically named Stanford Filbrick Pines into puddles of contented, post-coital bliss—and always happy to put on a show for a friend.”

Beneath him, Ford felt so turned on he was having a hard time breathing regularly.

“Plus, I come from a species that has roughly millions of genders, so homosexuality doesn’t bother me in the least. If anything, it radically simplifies things. You wanna get it on with a guy? I can do that. Two guys? Ditto. A guy and a gal at the same time? No prob. An entire roomful of different people? Sure, it’ll be a nice stretch of my talents. Something or somethings that aren’t remotely human? Well, if either of us can imagine it, I can make it in here for you to fuck.”

Beneath him, Ford felt so turned on that he was practically vibrating with excitement.

“And as for what you meatbags call ‘incest’, well,” Bill-Stan shrugged. “Far from the weirdest kink floatin’ around in the collective unconsciousness of humanity. But it is just weird enough, luckily, to keep me invested in any—heh heh—boldly transgressive or unapologetically perverse theatrical performances you might want to try here on the mindscape stage. So c’mon, brother,” he added emphatically, positively dripping Stanness now. “Just follow my lead … We got hours ‘til Dad and Mom get home …”

Beneath him, Ford felt so turned on that he was sorta surprised the couch hadn’t caught fire around the two of them. Another low moan escaped his lips as he felt Stan-Bill’s lips press against his throat again … as he felt Stan-Bill grind against his bulge again … as he felt Stan-Bill carry him back into a more fulfilling moment than the present reality could ever hope to offer …

“You like that, cabin nerd? Huh? You like when I do that to ya? Go on, say ‘Aye-aye, Captain’.”

Though his hands were still pinned against the armrest of the couch and his body born down into the cushions, Ford arched his hips into the grind.

“C’mon, cabin nerd, go ahead and say it … Become a part of my couch pirate crew …”

Giggling, Ford turned and offered himself up for a kiss. It was long and warm and wet and deep, and so very, very sweet. It left him breathlessly whimpering, “Mmm, Stan … Bill …”

“Who’s this Bill?” Stan-Bill asked teasingly. Then, as if to punctuate every following sentence, he humped slow and hard at the end of it. “Someone I otta be jealous of? Someone I gotta go beat up? Someone who’s gotta learn that you’re mine … my brother … my lover … and no one else gets to touch ya but me?”

“Ah! Yes!” Ford cried out.

And, distantly, the Bill in the seats shouted, “Boooooo! Going off script like this is for amateurs! Improv in an established piece is for hacks who can’t remember their lines! Boooooo!”

That was when Bill (not the original Bill playing Stan, nor any of the copies playing stagehands, but the real Bill in a clonesuit stretched out on the bed in the attic) snapped out of his fascination and decided it was time to stop reviewing memories for a while. Especially this one in particular. Not because it wasn’t nostalgic or entertaining or sexually titillating for him (it was very much), not because he couldn’t remember what had happened next (his recall was still just as perfect as the rest of him—heh heh!), but because …

Because it just wasn’t worth watching the rest. Both in Ford’s memory of the actual event with his brother, and in the slightly altered reenactment Bill had performed with Ford, it hadn’t been more than another minute or two of cornball dialogue, couch grinding, and rough kissing before they climaxed. And why not? Ford and Stan had been horny, pent up teenagers way back then … and Ford had been a horny, pent up adult back then (what with his tons of emotional baggage and sexual frustration) …

“Not worth getting wound up over,” Bill muttered to the cabin ceiling. “Not when jerking off won’t be enough to take the edge off the horniness I’ll feel afterwards … And besides, if I want to feel wound up and horny, there are much wilder memories I could perfectly recall than that. With Dipper or with Sixer …”

His hand came up wearing a sock puppet Mabel had made to look like his true form—or, at least, as much like his true form as a sock with a hand shoved in it could, (though, honestly, it looked less like a dapper triangle and more like the bastard lovechild that would result from a wild night of passion between him and Kermit the Frog)—and said, “Funny how you didn’t even realize how good a thing you had with ol’ Fordsy, isn’t it?”

“How do you figure that?” Bill asked his sock puppet. “Working and hanging with him was a ton of fun, and I missed the 79 Hells outta it after he sided with this mudball … Still do, actually …”

“I mean all that wild, limitationless, mindscape sex you had with him. Back then, for you, it was just the fun of weird playacting (and manipulating a gullible meatbag); you didn’t appreciate any of the physical side of it.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re right. Of course, y’know, I kinda couldn’t appreciate it back then.”

“The beginning of the summer was a lot like that, too, with Dipper and Mabel and all the others,” the sock puppet continued matter-of-factly. “You didn’t appreciate any of the emotional side of spending time with them, what with how full of hate and plans for vengeance you were.”

“… No, I didn’t,” Bill admitted.

“All that time spent with them, and you didn’t even realize how good a thing you had.”

“… I kinda couldn’t appreciate all that back then, either, in my defense.”

“You could now, y’know.”

“What, you mean … relive the memories? Actually, that could be a fun way to pass the time,” Bill mused to himself. “Might not feel quite so bored or lone … Cthulhu’s cartilaginous cranium, I could go through all my memories with Ford! Maybe there’s something I filed away in there—something I didn’t think was important at the time, something that could spark another thought—that could help get me past the bubble!” he exclaimed, bolting upright. “And back to my Dipper!”

“That wasn’t exactly what I meant …” the sock puppet pointed out.

But it was rather futile; Bill was on a role now. “The bumblr crowd could even help with this … Them asking the right questions might give me some direction, instead of just prospecting—”

“HEY! LISTEN!” the sock puppet shrilled. “I meant you could be having a good thing right now with all the people here at the Shack. Emotionally and such. Enjoying it fully. But you’re not. Even though you want to.”

Looking away from the reproachful, googly-eyed gaze, Bill muttered, “Kinda hard to with Ford setting such a grim mood for everyone here any time he walks in on me and someone else.”

“You’re wasting time,” the sock puppet stated irrefutably. “Like at the beginning of the summer, when you were too busy being … being not nice—being mean—to everyone, especially Dipper. Now you’re wasting time being bitter at Ford.”

“He’s wasting time being just as bitter at me!” Bill countered defensively.

“And when was the last time you really tried to do anything about that? Huh? When you bought everybody gifts, maybe, a few months ago?”

“… Honestly? I guess so, yeah.”

“Go try again. You wanted to, anyway, since you saw him in the woods crying ‘bout how much he misses the Twins, too,” the sock puppet affirmed. “It’s the reason you turned away from remembering that time on the couch before the climax, too; you’re not in the mood for sexiness, not deep down, but for sappiness. You can appreciate that emotional side of things now, so stop wasting time not enjoying ‘em.”

“What if … What if he doesn’t want to stop being bitter? What if he doesn’t want to move on?”

“Then at least you’ll have tried. You won’t be wasting time being bitter. And you get to spend more time perfectly recalling individual memories to see if you can find something helpful to escape, so win-win for you.”

Bill sighed. “I’d argue with you, but you are me, so I know I won’t win … Well, let’s go …”

#little monsters au #billdip #bipdip #bipper #ford #stancest #billford #the feels awaken #writing #fanfiction #also i messed up the illustrations' order so some of these #will have no pics #and others will have #more than one #just a heads up #there shall be a celebratory cah game once this arc is complete! #submission

[berniesrevolution]

Today’s cartoonishly twisted economic inequality has created a renaissance of “conspicuous consumption.” This was the term American sociologist Thorstein Veblen coined to describe the purchase of extravagant goods and services, not so much for the pleasure of consuming them but for their ability to signal affluence to others. For example, Forbes magazine’s Cost of Living Extremely Well Index tracks the price of “ultraluxe items” like quarter-million-dollar Russian sable fur coats, $55,000 private school tuition, and $16 million personal Sikorsky helicopters.

But the best place to turn for a peek at elite excess is definitely Mansion, the Friday Wall Street Journal supplement reviewing the wild extravagance of the hideously rich. Part advertising section, part ruling-class design review, part dangling inducement to middle managers to go on believing in the system, Mansion is a hilarious delight and everyone should read it to learn about the purposeless waste of the upper crust.

Sadly, the Journal’s aggressive paywall prevents many critical readers from peeking through the curtain to view the other side of our class-segregation system. Luckily Current Affairs has the keys! Brace yourself to find out where thirty years of tax cuts promised to create jobs have gone instead.

Reading Mansion quickly reveals the gigantic frigging sums wealthy people have seen fit to throw at their surroundings. From comfortless-looking glass tubs to specialized tequila freezers, the resources committed to these properties are staggering. Articles describe for us the cigar rooms, the $54,000 closet for a Beverly Hills teenager’s sports and drones, the enormous home theaters, the 4700 square-foot gym with a climbing wall. In a review of big-ticket housing in Holland, a rich Dutch designer of elite household renovations laughs “Sometimes I think I could live in that kitchen.” Another article finds real-world comps for super-hero movie mansions, which is easier than you might guess.

Rich-people housing embodies their rich-people diversions, including American car worship. A Miami tower grabbed attention in a crowded market by affiliating with Porsche and including a car elevator for residents, allowing them to park their chrome sport cars right in their chrome condos. An AOL co-founder’s house has an attached garage and a garage attached to the attached garage, with space for thirty cars. Oh, plus a dock for delivery trucks in one of the four kitchens. And while covering a Miami manse built on top of a seven-story parking structure, we learn the luxury garage includes a glass sculpture, 30-foot-high ceilings in places, and “sweeping views.” They hold weddings in it.

Many high-end city mansions have gone through a circuitous odyssey over the twentieth century, often built as giant brownstones for tycoons in the unregulated, no-progressive-income-tax era of the Gilded Age, but then taken over for schools or split into apartments or offices. Yet as the New Deal era has been repealed in endless Republican tax cuts, these properties are widely returning to their original functions as opulent single-family homes. A New York real estate agent comments “It’s like a return to the Gilded Age,” as the press reports that what has “put these mansions and townhouses back in play is the steady escalation of incredibly wealthy buyers” seeking more privacy than a conventional high-end condo can provide.

This kind of high-end marketing literature also teaches how class patterns endure in far more turbulent settings, even through the most cataclysmic events. Mansiondescribes the luxury market in Berlin, where waves of destruction and social reconstruction have crashed over the twentieth century, while still preserving the architecture of class privilege. One high-end West Berlin residential complex was originally built to be “a high-end residential hotel” but “has had many lives over the decades, including as the Weimar Republic’s economics ministry in the 1920s and as a West Berlin finance office during the Cold War.” Now, it has returned to its luxury market origins as elite condos. It’s history in the form of douchebag trophy properties.

Likewise Japan, which at midcentury was firebombed and nuked to kingdom come (the culprit was never caught), saw an archetypal property bubble in the 1980s. These upheavals don’t erase old patterns of excessive privilege and power, and Mansion tellsof Tokyo’s “most exclusive neighborhoods” where “luxury residential towers that cater to the city’s elite now sit where feudal lords once had their lavish villas.” Still, most Japanese domestic buyers “are more restrained in their definition of luxury. There is little demand for splashy interiors, or a gym or a swimming pool in the building.” Don’t these people know how to live!?

Of course, anyone familiar with real estate will know that often the appearance of age on a marketed property is homage rather than reality. Affectations of antiquity are a mainstay of real estate markets across class levels, including Tudor-era stonework and with fireplace “mantels salvaged from castles in France and England.” This reaches its apex in the clichéd tacky US “McMansion,” as you can see for yourself on Kate Wagner’s incredibly entertaining blog, McMansion Hell. Without snobbishness, Wagner playfully laments today’s clumsy and planless use of half-recalled and feverishly jumbled Gothic or colonial architecture, leaving much of the modern high-end property inventory a shallow parody of grandeur.

The anachronistic tacky grotesque is truly on parade in Mansion’s real estate listings. One Beverly Hills mansion “was originally built to resemble ‘Le Petit Trianon,’ Marie Antoinette’s private chateau in Versailles,” and includes “a whiskey lounge, a wine cellar, a cinema, three elevators and a salon and spa.” A rich retired fashion industry tycoon and wife bought a former grain mill outside Madrid and remodeled the property into a mansion, including the portion formerly housing workers, with ill-fitting modern gadgets. We’re told whimsically that the owner has limited knowledge of what the place was and when it operated. The couple also owns an Italian vineyard, vacations on Ibiza and plans to ruin a derelict Valencian farmhouse next.

(Continue Reading)

#politics #the left #current affairs #economic inequality #Housing market

[honeyshrine89]

What Everyone Dislikes About Online Game And Why

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#Slot Online

[dd20century]

The Timeless Designs of Robin and Lucienne Day - Part Two

Read Part One of “The Timeless Designs of Robin and Lucienne Day”

Robin and Lucienne’s Pivotal Work in the 1950s

In 1952 the Days moved to 49 Cheyne Walk in Chelsea and decorated their home in the new style that they champion. (1) During the 1950s Robin continued to develop exhibits for Central Office of Information (1) and designed furniture for Hille, including the Hillestak plywood chair (1951), 675 Chair (1952) and the Interplan Unit U modular storage system (1955). (2)

Robin Day and his Q Stak Chair (1953).  Photographer unknown. Image source.

Lucienne also experienced tremendous success in the wake of the Festival of Britain. While she became Heal’s top designer, she also designed fabrics for “for Liberty, John Lewis and Edinburgh Weavers. (3)” These patterns from the 1950s featured linear motifs, some inspired by organic plant forms, others were abstract. Her designs from later in the decade were sketchier with bold colored blocks and stripes. (3) While the 1950s were a period of great professional activity for Lucienne, in 1954 her life changed when she gave birth to a baby daughter, Lucienne and Robin’s only child. (4)

Lucienne Day, Dandelion clocks Fabric for Heal’s (1953). Copyright: Robin and Lucienne Day Foundation. Image source.

The Days’ Become Britain’s Leading Designers

During the 1960s Robin continued with ground-breaking furniture design for Hille; his design for the “Polypropylene chair for Hille, which becomes one of the best-selling chairs of all time. (1)” During the 1960s Robin and Lucienne did collaborate on several projects: “furnishings for Churchill College, Cambridge” 1and that same year became design consultants for “John Lewis stores and Waitrose supermarkets. (1)”

British Overseas Airways Corporation (BOAC) also hired the couple as design consultants; together Robin and Lucienne “designed interiors for a range of aircraft. (5)” The next year Robin got the opportunity to work again with Peter Moro to design Hille’s showroom in London. (6) In additional to furniture Robin design electronics for Pye employing his “aesthetic on a smaller scale. (7)” Lucienne’s work in the 1960s became less representative, more geometric and abstract, as can be seen in her Octogon carpet for Wilton Royal (1964) and Apex fabric for Heal (1967). (8)

Robin and Lucienne Day, rendering of interior of BOAC VC10 Airline Cabin (1967). Image source.

Robin and Lucienne’s New Directions

Robin’s most recognized work of the 1970s was his E Series classroom furniture for Hille. With a molded plastic seat and metal legs E Series chairs were originally available in 5 colors: “blue, flame, forest green, donkey and brown. (9)” The chairs are still sold by Hille today but now are marketed in sixteen colors, including sapphire and charcoal. (10)

Robin Day, Series E Classroom Chair for Hille Furniture, polypropylene and metal (1971). Image source.

Lucienne Day, Helix Upholstery Fabric for Heal’s (1970). Image source.

Lucienne’s designs in the 1970s continued to feature bold colors and strong geometrics but stylized plant motifs made their way back into her work. With changing fashions and many of her old contacts retiring Lucienne decided to stop designing fabrics and concentrated her efforts on serving as a design consultant to John Lewis. (9)

In the 1980s Lucienne channeled her love of textile design into developing silk mosaic tapestries, made “from small squares or strips of dyed silk. (11)” She would go on to create 144 of these silk mosaics. (1) In 1990 she would produce a stunning series of large-scale silk mosaics called “Aspects of the Sun” which were hung in the café of the John Lewis store at Kingston-on-Thames. (12) During this decade Robin turned his attention mainly to designing public seating, most notably for the Barbican Arts Centre and for British Rail. (13)

Lucienne Day supervising the installation of her series of tapestries “Aspects of the Sun” (1990). Image source.

Robin Day continued to maintain his interest in public seating, designing as well consulting on several, such as his Toro seating designed for the London Underground (1990) and the modular polypropylene Sussex Bench (2003). (14)

Final Tributes to the Days

Robin and Lucienne Day’s work was introduced to a new generation of designers first in 1991 “their work was prominently showcased in a landmark exhibition called ‘The New Look: Design in the Fifties’ at Manchester City Art Gallery.” Then in 1993, the Whitworth Art Gallery held a one-woman show of Lucienne’s designs. (15) “A joint retrospective, "Robin and Lucienne Day – Pioneers of Contemporary Design" [was] held at the Barbican Art Gallery in 2001, which juxtaposed her textiles, carpets, wallpapers, ceramics and table linen with Robin's furniture. (16)”

The Days and their work were the subjects of the documentary film “Contemporary Days: The Designs of Lucienne and Robin Day.” One of Robin’s last public appearances was attending the film’s opening. (17)

Robin Day, Toro Bench, steel (1990). Image source.

The Design Legacy of Robin and Lucienne Day

Robin and Lucienne Day proved that excellence and innovation in design are timeless. Lucienne Day’s obituary in The Independent reported that when her “pylon-inspired pattern called Graphica was put back into production by Habitat in 1999 … it still looked so strikingly modern that it was hard to believe it was 46 years old. (15)” Robin’s “public seating was used for decades after its original installation”1 many of his designs for Hille, especially his designs for school furniture are still marketed and widely in use today. (1)

Lucienne Day died on January 30, 2010. Robin died on November 9 that same year. (1) In 2012 their daughter Paula Day established the Robin and Lucienne Day Foundation. The Foundation is a charitable organization that celebrates the Day’s design legacy through exhibitions, conferences and design projects. The Foundation recognizes innovation in design through a series of awards to textile and product design students. (17)

References

Design Museum, (n.d.). Robin and Lucienne Day. https://designmuseum.org/designers/robin-and-lucienne-day

Robin and Lucienne Day Foundation, (2018). Lives and Designs: 1950s. http://www.robinandluciennedayfoundation.org/lives-and-designs/1950s/interplan-unit-u

Robin and Lucienne Day Foundation, (2018). Lives and Designs: 1950s. http://www.robinandluciennedayfoundation.org/lives-and-designs/1950s/lucienne-day-br-1950s

Robin and Lucienne Day Foundation, (2018). Lives and Designs: 1950s. http://www.robinandluciennedayfoundation.org/lives-and-designs/1950s/lucienne-and-paula

Robin and Lucienne Day Foundation, (2018). Lives and Designs: 1960s. http://www.robinandluciennedayfoundation.org/lives-and-designs/1960s/vc10-aircraft-interior-design

Robin and Lucienne Day Foundation, (2018). Lives and Designs: 1960s. http://www.robinandluciennedayfoundation.org/lives-and-designs/1960s/hille-showroom

Robin and Lucienne Day Foundation, (2018). Lives and Designs: 1960s. http://www.robinandluciennedayfoundation.org/lives-and-designs/1960s/robin-day-br-1960s

Robin and Lucienne Day Foundation, (2018). Lives and Designs: 1960s. http://www.robinandluciennedayfoundation.org/lives-and-designs/1960s

Robin and Lucienne Day Foundation, (2018). Lives and Designs: 1970s. http://www.robinandluciennedayfoundation.org/lives-and-designs/1970s

Hille (n.d.), Series E Chair. https://www.hille.co.uk/e-series-chair

Robin and Lucienne Day Foundation, (2018). Lives and Designs: 1980s. http://www.robinandluciennedayfoundation.org/lives-and-designs/1980s/lucienne-day-br-1980s

Robin and Lucienne Day Foundation, (2018). Lives and Designs: 1990s. http://www.robinandluciennedayfoundation.org/lives-and-designs/1990s/aspects-of-the-sun-silk-mosaic

Robin and Lucienne Day Foundation, (2018). Lives and Designs: 1980s. http://www.robinandluciennedayfoundation.org/lives-and-designs/1980s/robin-day-br-1980s

Robin and Lucienne Day Foundation, (2018). Lives and Designs: 1990s. http://www.robinandluciennedayfoundation.org/lives-and-designs/1990s/toro-seating-in-the-underground

Jackson, L. (13 February, 2010). Lucienne Day: Textile designer whose work brightened up Fifties Britain, Independent Online. https://www.independent.co.uk/news/obituaries/lucienne-day-textile-designer-whose-work-brightened-up-fifties-britain-1898179.html

Robin and Lucienne Day Foundation, (2018). Lives and Designs: 2000s. http://www.robinandluciennedayfoundation.org/lives-and-designs/2000s/robin-day-br-2000s

Robin and Lucienne Day Foundation, (2018). Foundation. http://www.robinandluciennedayfoundation.org/foundation

#Lucienne Day #Robin Day #furniture #textiles #industrial design #mid-century modern

[ravenclawravings]

Tag Game

Hi all! Recently we have been tagged in a bunch of those tag games. So instead of clogging your newsfeed we decided to combine a bunch into one post.

Here are some of you who tagged us! (I tried to find you all but, we get a lot of notifications and Tumblr makes it very hard to sort through them)

Tagged by: @headcanonsandmore 

@fuckitup-in-style,

@acciohermionejg

@iamskylorsaurus

@unusuallyzealousburgette

Gender: Both of us are girls.

Birthday: Zoe: March 28th. Alex: March 11th

Last movie seen: Zoe: Dunkirk Alex: Star Wars: The Last Jedi

What do you post/reblog: Zoe: A bunch of random crap. Alex: On this blog we post #relatable content. On my personal I just shitpost

Last thing you Googled: Zoe: “List of apex predators” Alex: “how do radiators know when to turn on”

Favorite blog: Zoe: No idea. Alex: @myendlessparade has some dank content ;)

Dream job: Zoe: Writer/ youtuber but I’m bad at both Alex: YouTuber or a paid/professional internet content creator

Dream trip: Zoe: I don’t know, I haven’t been to Japan before, I guess Alex: I really want to go to Germany but, I’d love to go anywhere in Europe. Or anywhere outside the US. Or anywhere really.

What would be your first entry in a new diary: Zoe: I don’t diary Alex: Probably something really random, a random thought perhaps. All of my past journals are filled with weird shit like “Tap Dancing Cat Play” with zero context

Top 3 things you love about yourself: Zoe: Why is this so hard? Can I say things I love about Alex instead? 1) She’s smart and funny and a great person to be around. 2) She’s creative and works so hard on the things she’s passionate about. 3) She’s supportive and understanding and all around a great friend. Alex: d’awwwww <3 turning the tables now - here are three reasons I love Zoe: 1. She’s a very accepting, patient and understanding friend. 2. She’s full of good ideas and the reason we started this blog. Also partly convinced me to pursue YouTube seriously (speaking of we need to do something about the gaming channel) 3. She has a very dark and dry humor, we can talk and laugh for hours

3 things you wish you knew how to do: Zoe: 1) Drive stick, 2) speak a different language (I’ve tried, I’m really bad at it), 3) manage my finances Alex: 1. Make gifs, 2. play an instrument, 3. drive??!?

Something you wish you had discovered/invented first: Zoe: I honestly don’t know. Alex: I asked Jake what to say and he said “submarines.” So I guess submarines

3 qualities you like in a person: Zoe: 1) their sense of humor, 2) intelligence, 3) creativity Alex: 1. taste in media, 2. humor, 3. uniqueness

3 qualities you dislike in a person: Zoe: 1) Cockiness, 2) overly defensive, 3) when someone talks over someone else and especially when they don’t stop and listen when the first person tries to keep talking Alex: 1. Selfishness, 2. carelessness, 3. when they walk slowly in front of me

Favorite planet: Zoe: I guess technically Earth because I live here, but viva la Pluto! Alex: Mars! Mars has such a vast history for such a barren planet.

A resolution you make every year: Zoe: I don’t make resolutions. Alex: I don’t really make resolutions but, I try to be less hard on myself each year

Something you’re better at than most people: Zoe: Um... writing? Alex: Video editing

Something you’re worse at than most people: Zoe: Talking to other people. Alex: Making friends

Favorite thing about tumblr: Zoe: Memes? Alex: MEMES and cute animal pictures

Least favourite thing about tumblr: Zoe: The entire way that this site is set up is like someone threw darts at a board and went “so this goes here, and uh, I guess that’s how we do this...” Alex: Dear god, this website is designed poorly for blog runners! There is no clear way to sort notifications, you either get them all or none at all. Also there have been times when a queued post just doesn’t post or tags just delete themselves while you’re typing them.

Weapon of choice: Zoe: Knives or a bow and arrow (I’m actually quite good at archery) Alex: Uh, none...

Something not many people know about you:  Zoe: I was going to be in a production with my dad trying to break the world record of most roller coasters ridden in a day, but the plans everything fell through about midway through, so it never happened. Alex: In middle school I used wear one ankle sock and one knee high because...fashion...?

Favorite means of transport: Zoe: I like driving, but if I’m going into the city, I’m taking the train. Alex: God, I hate all means of transportation. It’s all bad. Let’s just learn how to teleport already

Favorite story: Zoe: Harry Potter Alex: A New Hope

Chicken or egg: Zoe: Dinosaur Alex: I was going to say chicken but, Zoe’s answer is the really the best one

Something that always makes you laugh: Zoe: Cats. Alex: When Zelda yells around the apartment at her toys

What is the strangest thing about you: Zoe: You should see some of the texts I send Alex. Alex: just who I am as a person

You get to switch places with someone for a day, who is it and why: Zoe: Can I switch places with my cat? Alex: I’m stealing Zoe’s answer. Fuck yeah! I’d love to be Zelda for a day!

Name: Zoe Alex

Nicknames: Zoe: None Alex: Weasel

Height: Zoe: 5′7″ Alex: 5′3″

Orientation: Zoe: Hell if I know Alex: straight

Nationality: Zoe: I’m a US and UK citizen. Alex: ‘murican

Favorite Fruit: Zoe: Banana? Alex: Oranges

Favorite Season: Zoe: Fall Alex: Fall

Favorite Flower: Zoe: Roses Alex: Blue Roses! (only people from high school will get this joke and none them follow me....)

Favorite Scents: Zoe: Burning wood Alex: Most any candle

Favorite Color: Zoe: Purple Alex: Purple

Favorite Animals: Zoe: Cheetah, wolves, sea pancake Alex: Zelda!

Coffee, Tea or Hot Chocolate: Zoe: Depends on my mood Alex: All of the above, please

Average Sleep Hours: Zoe: 6 Alex: 8?

Dog or Cat Person: Zoe: Both Alex: Love both but, I really like cats

Favorite Fictional Characters: Zoe: Oh god, Aragorn, Harry Potter, Sirius Black, Gandalf, don’t make me choose, I could keep going. Alex: Han Solo, The Master, Mac, Michael Scott, Squidward (??), I don’t know man!

Number of Blankets You Sleep with: Zoe: Anywhere between 1 and 4 Alex: Normally one but, if it’s real cold, two or more

Blog Created: Zoe: This blog was created a little over a year ago, my personal blog was created something like nine years ago I think. Alex: Mine was made like 6 years ago?

Number of Followers: 48,100

Random fact: Zoe: When people are hanged, they die from lack of blood flow to the brain. Alex: Most female cats are right pawed

Star sign: Zoe: Aries Alex: Pisces

Hogwarts House: Take a guess

Why I made this account: Zoe: I made the account because I wanted something to do, and then I invited Alex to be a part of it with me. Alex: What she said ^

Reason for url: Alliteration is cool?

My favorite writer: Zoe: It changes all the time. Alex: Dr. Seuss

My favorite book: Zoe: Harry Potter? Alex: I have no clue?

My favorite movie: Zoe: Lord of the Rings Alex: Oh dear, I don’t know... Ed Wood (1994) ?

Time: Zoe: 15:46 Alex: 9:58pm

Favourite bands: Zoe: Queen, The Who, FOB, Muse, a lot. Alex: Fall Out Boy, Imagine Dragons, Panic! at the Disco

Favourite solo artists: Zoe: No clue Alex: Uh none? I don’t really listen to music besides the three bands listed and movie soundtracks

Song stuck in my head: Zoe: Right now, it’s “I’m Only Joking” by Kongos Alex: “Champion” by Fall Out Boy

Last show I watched: Zoe: NCIS Alex: I don’t really know. It’s between The Punisher, Black Mirror and Peep Show. I watch so many things I forget when I last watched it

Do I get asks: Zoe: Not really. Alex: We get asks here pretty often. I never get any personally - except spam

Lucky number: Zoe: 13 Alex: 3

Instruments: Zoe: I played the clarinet ages ago, and I sorta learned Violin for a little bit, but if you asked me to play any instrument now, I’d probably suck. Alex: I am not talented enough

What I am wearing: Zoe: Plaid and leggings. Alex: Grey and black sweater, leggings and draped in a blanket 

Favourite food: Zoe: I want pancakes right now, so let’s go with that? Alex: I’m so bad at picking favorite things! I just love food!

Last book I read: Zoe: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (it’s tradition for me to reread all the novels every year, and I was late last year, so I only just finished it in time) Alex: The Disaster Artist

3 favorite fandoms: Zoe: Oh, god... Harry Potter, LotR, and i guess certain youtubers? Alex: uh, that changes depending on how I’m feeling. Right now, probably, Star Wars, YouTube and something else?

#zoe and alex answer things #tagged post #we tag anyone who wants to do this #answers #questions #answer #ravenclawravings #not really harry potter related