#so i took inspo from an old piece of mine to make this and sort of update it and i really like it!! i think my colours are way better

[fiendishartist2]

redraw of this post from bunnyfarm's release

kofi|instagram

[cruxymox]

I gave every ant a tiny typewriter. After the clock went sometime around, one sent me the following letter:

"Dear good sir who has given me the machine that has buttons with strange markings - // Thank you very much for this. I had to find paper and pull it to my nest, and worse still I had to make my own ink, but thank you. // I am uncertain as to the reasons why. I look forward to your pleasant response, please also send stamps as I have used all of mine. I am no philatelist it seems. Ha-ha. // Your new friend, // WILLIAM"

I sat on my comfortchair and thought about this, what WILLIAM wrote me, all of the various details and hows and whatnot. A few passmoments went screaming by and there was a knock on my door. I tried to brush it off but it persisted. I opened the door, and a postwoman that had not slept in sometime around held out her hand. I shook her hand tumultously, so she said, “no, no the other hand!” I took the letter from the other hand, and she pushed the door closed on me. An echoed knock skittered about the floor and disappeared underneath the carpet.

I letteropened with curious fingers.

“writer look, yr gonna get some // more letreters // && by more i mean MORE rite? // we all done wrote something (some of us had help but i mean all of us k?) so // writer, you think you were gonna get some inspo from us for what you do but yr gonna get all-ought (get it???) more than that // yr new other friend, hm, i’ll name myself perfet // perfet // PS: careful!”

A second letter, and I was not even expecting one. And the devolution from the first to the second was astounding. And now… again! What was next? The knock crawled up my leg and bit at my inner ear. It might have gone right on in.

I scraped the door until it was open, and there she was, the postwoman, lying on the pavement. She was not moving. I looked at her for a while. Neither of us were moving. A while, a while, sometime around. I thought that blood was pooling under her head, but it was an envelope. I dreaded movement for a while. I reached out, making sure to keep at least one leg within the safety of my house. The knock snickered, I heard it well.

I retracted myself and letteropened with jittering and bloody fingers. Bloody fingers, oh. Oh. A confirmation of sorts. Sort of. I wish it were still a while.

“LG Beast with TYPEY-TYPEY appendages & knocks-in-the-brain! // [ perfet helped w/ that one ] // we decided that the LG Beast that carries papers is one // nexus // airy. // // // so we will give them to you ourselves! // all of us // all of us. // LG Beast! happy REEDY-REEDY!!!11111 // signed opeN-fluE”

I scraped myself down onto the floor. I could not believe. I would not. I only wanted a good piece of writing. I was not going to steal from the ants, just gather ideas from what they might write me. Laughable, really. Well, who is laughing now? Not me, not me. I looked out a window, and saw them coming. All black and fluttering, crawling and white. A storm of no-longer-wanted inspiration. But wait! If I could strengthgather I could protect myself. I could work so they would not be able to get in the house. They would give up after sometime around and leave. Yes. I could.

I got up and ran to the closet. Though I did not like the closet, I pulled it open and grabbed all of the rolls of duct tape. Jars of old screws and bolts rattled in protest. An angry can of nails fell over. At least the retractable ruler maintained some measure of composure.

So with my teeth I released sticky lines. I ripped, I tore. I rubbed. Every crevice I could think of between the inside and outside I covered. Every orifice of the house I could think of was subverted. Glue and mesh would be my saviours.

After sometime around I fell into my comfortchair, cardboard cylinders strewn about and sweat-covered and gummed hands.

The storm was here. The sound of insect and paper surrounded. I closed my eyes and waited it out.

But then! A quiet more dreadful than. And then. From above, the roof, a quiet even more dreadful than. Oh no, oh no. “I could think of”.

The knock resnickered. It jumped out of my ear, and climbed over and onto the mantel of my fireplace. The knock watched giddily as they poured in. The fireplace - a faucet, the ants and their letters - free-flowing water.

Pouring, flowing, gushing, rushing in, my crazed inspiration. It crawled onto me, it covered me, it papercut me severely.

I never should have. Too late. But how could I have known? That it was all ants or--

...And then nothing.

___

Some of the letters were copies of invoices. Some were rejection notices. A few were reminiscent of Emily Dickenson’s letters, which would have been nice, actually. A couple of letters were your poems. The vast majority of the ants’ letters were, as you could probably guess, quite unintelligible, which is typical of my own work. These were very helpful.

[ithoughtthiswastwitterbutfr]

WandaVision Episode 8 spoilers

Ok I heard this episode is sad so I’m prepared to cry and ruin my eyeliner.

I’m just emotionally preparing myself rq before I start I’m assuming a lots gonna go down cause the second episode is the finale.

I’m still not ready 2 minutes later lmao wait.

Okay hmm the title is called Previously On so we’re going back in time to her childhood based on the summary.

I think we’re gonna get more insight on her and Visions relationship and how it formed and hopefully get to see her relationship with her brother I’m starting now.

Ugh my TV is glitching

Okay we’re starting out in witch trials so it’s Agathas backstory the lady staring at her looks familiar. Oh it’s her mom

Her powers are blue here she’s into dark magic and the book in her basement is the stolen book from Doctor Strange im assuming she began learning dark magic from it l.

As they started to drain her. Her powers became blue and she starting to drain them back. I’m assuming the witches shared power and it was blue and now that it’s dark magic it’s purple.

Wow she killed her whole coven my draining them of their life and magic. Then she took her mother’s amulet so that’s the amulet she’s always wearing from the comics is. 

She admitted her thoughts weren’t available and she was never under control.

Her accent is back because she’s angry because of her children being missing.

She possessed the fake Pietro from another universe she didn’t say he was from another universe she just said she couldn’t get to his body so she had to do possession instead of necromancy.

She picked up the fly now she’s chanting in Latin

She’s mind controlling and talking about how thousands of people can be under your control and all interact with each other with complex storylines which makes me think she wants Wanda power because she’s jealous she can do everything like transformation and mind control without having to study all the spells

“Magic on autopilot,” Dhe wants to know how she did this and she wouldn’t tell her and now she’s manipulating her with her own loneliness. She took a piece of her hair so now she has her DNA 

Real reruns aka memories so she can look into them to see how she did it.

Her kids are crying out for in the basement so she’s gonna go with Agatha to save them I honestly don’t think the cries were her own.

OHHH MY GOD

All the movies her parents were going to sell were the decades and movies she did projected.

When Wanda walked into the memory she turned into her younger self,

The Dick Van Dick show is in the TV shape of the one Darcy used on the first episode so we know where she got her inspo for that one.

Everything outside makes me think this is the scene where her parents die.

The Stark bomb just hit and she’s looking around and can’t find her family yeah the Stark industry label is in front of her and she’s reverted back to Sokovian because she’s young and not the best at English yet I’m assuming.

The TV I’d still on and playing the show “At the end of the episode you realize it was all a bad dream,” I’m not sure why she said that part in English maybe because she’s referring to the show and movie nights are for English? 

Agatha is asking if she used a probability hex to stop the bomb because Wanda reached her hand out towards it and that’s how she uses her powers.

Maybe Agatha is hinting towards Wanda being a natural born witch?

“So what I see here a baby witch obsessed with sitcoms and years of therapy ahead of her. Doesn’t explain your recent hijinks,”

Wanda used her powers subconsciously there and she’s probably using her powers subconsciously to keep Westview running and she used them subconsciously to get it started. 

“The only way forward is back,”

She’s referring to Wanda not wanting to go back to Hydra I haven’t seen the scene yet but I’m assuming it’s because the testing was painful and because she now knows who hydra is and what it stands for.

“Don’t be scared you already lived it once,”

They have Loki’s sceptor of course im assuming they got it from SHIELD since they are SHIELD.

She didn’t have to touch the sample it just came to her on its own further proving she’s a witch but I don’t think she knows she moved it,

She touched the tesseract making the mine stone she then absorbed all its energy and passed out.

In isolation she’s watching another sitcom I just can’t figure out which it is.

I’m sure the episode on the TV is important “she hasn’t got any feeling,” maybe it’s about the Westview citizens or maybe it’s about vision being a doll or like a puppet and the brother is like “she hasn’t got any feelings” just like when Pietro or Fietro called Vision a popsicle an inanimate object 

“So little orphan Wanda got up close and personal with an infinity stone that amplified what otherwise would’ve died on the vine. The broken pieces of you are adding up buttercup I have a theory but I need more,” This is probably talking about how if you don’t use your powers or learn to control them you stop having them but the infinity stone just made the powers she already had stronger. The name Scarlett Witch is starting to make sense now. 

Another door another memory that I’d her watching Malcom in the middle.

She said the Avengers compound was the first home she had ever shared with Vision and with her family and country gone she felt alone so I’m assuming she’s with Vision cause he cured her loneliness.

Vision walking through the walls again she asking him to watch the sitcom with her. The sitcoms are important to her and she’s sharing them with him.

“So it is funny because of the grievous injury that man just suffered?” Vision

“No he’s not really injured,” Wanda

“How Can you be sure?”

“It’s not that kind of show,”

I think this is sort of related to the fact that nothing bad ever happens in Westview permanently like in Malcolm in the middle where the roof structure fell on the dad sure he got hurt but it wasn’t a detrimental injury.

He wants to comfort to her “The only thing that would bring me comfort is seeing him again,” Wanda about Pietro she felt the same with Vision hence why Westview is happening and why he’s back.

“I’m so tired, It’s just like this wave washing over me again and again it knocks me down and when I try stand up it just comes for me again and I can’t- it’s just gonna drown me,” How she explains her grief and depression we’re getting a glismpe of how she copes with death in her actual reality.

Vision says he’s always been alone he never experienced loss because he never had a loved one to lose.

“What is grief if not love preserving,” Okay damn Vision getting all deep.

Aww they just had a moment and now he’s laughing over the show how sweet. The awkward smile they did at eachother. How cute

Vision was dead and she wanted him back now we get to see how she stole Visions body back from her perspective.

All the news on the TV playing might not be revelant but it’s related to tamiles being reunited after the blip. So this is very shortly after the blip and some people might be right thinking it was almost directly after Tony’s funeral.

“He deserves a funeral at least I deserve it,”

They’re letting her take him probably to be able to paint her as a villain which is why Hayward cut out the first part of the footage.

She’s being shown him take apart and sawed she’s in pain seeing him practically dying again. Hayward called vision a weapon and Wanda is saying he’s not a weapon because he wasn’t and he didn’t want to be a weapon Hayward is hiding his true intentions of bringing him back to be his own weapon

“I just want to bury him. That’s all I want,”

She said she can’t do that she truly believes she can’t.

He won’t let her take $3 billion of vibranium to put in the ground she just wanted him to have a proper burial but Hayward provoked her and set her off.

She can’t feel him. A nod to how Vision said “I only feel you,” When he asked Wanda to kill him there is nothing left. She hot in the car and went to Westview she left and when she left she didn’t have Visions body.

She’s pulled up to place where she planned to grow old in with Vision and it’s been demolished this is the scene where she breaks down crying over it. And when she grieved she lets it get the best of her which is how she put the house back together without realizing she was doing it. Then that spread over the whole town and she is projected her own version of Vision. But I’m unsure if this is really Vision or not because then she’d be way more powerful than I ever believe to be able to create people own her own.

Oh wow she’s showing all the lights and it’s like she’s own set so she’s back to where Agatha had this all set up and she was the audience.

Agatha is choking the twins “I know what you are. You have no idea how dangerous you are. You’re supposed to be a myth. A being capable of spontaneous creation. and here you are using it to make breakfast for dinner.” Maybe Wanda was a prophecy before hand and she just never learned how powerful she really was and now Agatha is trying to feed off her powers I’m assuming she’s going to try to get Wanda to push her powers into her so she can drain her.

“Let go of my children,” Wanda with her accent coming back.

“Oh, yes your children and Vision and this whole little life you’ve made, this is Chaos magic Wanda. That makes you the Scarlett Witch,” Ugh yes one of those moments where they say a name of the movie or a character that’s basically it’s own movie I love it.

I’m gonna research Chaos magic and then I’ll reblog this again after I research some other things too.

End credits time. “Team is ready for launch,” They’re going to use Wanda own power to attack her using Visions actual corpse. He’s been brought back as the one thing he didn’t want to be. A weapon. I’m not sure who that was who powered it up but was it Monica’s contact?

Also doesn’t Agatha have Monica now if she was possessing Fietro? I have a lot of questions that I can’t get out right now

[bean-pole-art]

Ed’s Borderlands Fics Masterpost

well finally

here is the masterpost of all of my Borderlands fics posted. most of them are Rhysothy focused to various AUs. I’m gonna update it as I post more but here it is, along with some of my commentary

right from the start big big BIG shoutout to @spoks-illogical-art​, my partner in crime, my biggest inspo, without them honestly most of these fics wouldn’t exist, please check out their amazing art <3

(latest edit - 21/02/2021)

Atlas AU - our main timeline, follows events of Moxxi’s Heist. lots of different concepts and ideas but the core really is Tim moving to Promethea to get help from Rhys. gonna sort em here with posting date, check the ao3 series for the “timeline”

Hypothetically - 2240 words summary: Rhys talks a lot, but usually thinks about it too little.

coffee, cats & monographs - 2880 words summary: “Hey hey, easy. You don’t want to repeat the accident from last week, do you?” Rhys cooed towards the cat and picked her up, just as Timothy instructed him to. Hearing these words, Felicity meowed. “Oh, don’t say that. This is my office and I have the power here,” he answered, carrying her back to his personal space.

Or Timothy's cat pays a visit to Rhys' office in the morning. note: I am a stupid mofo and at this point Tim would also have Loader Bot fkjbfd just imagine hes not mentioned cause hes wandering off, typical LB

Have Faith - 1470 words summary: During the 7 year lockdown at the Handsome Jackpot, Timothy couldn't really have any hope for himself. But maybe on Promethea it could be different. note: sudden feelings while watching JoltzDude139′s stream

Warm Cheeks, Cold Hands - 1170 words summary: Rhys comes home early and wants to say hi to his husband. With no ulterior motive. None at all. note: first fic Ive ever posted where characters are married, actually. fuck it, Rhysothy Real, his name is Rhys Lawrence

the battle (and the aftermath) of the ages - 2970 words summary: In a situation like this everything was possible, they could pull any punches they could think of. Four beasts playing against each other, every single one of them thinking of striking the winning blow.

Or Promethea Squad plays UNO. And then watches a movie. note: I love Promethea Squad with my whole heart

okurimono (贈り物) - 4/4, 17170 words summary: “Not a bomb. Just a device with a message for Rhys. Trust me on that,” this time an emoji of both winking and showing off a tongue [;P] appeared on the surface of Zer0’s helmet. Ah. So they were definitely trying to mess him up. In a way. Unfortunately, he really didn’t have any other options. Almost with a defeat, Timothy took the ECHOrecorder right from their hands and looked around it again. Or Zer0 gives Timothy a peculiar mission. note: my first ever multichapter fic. took me legit abt 8 months to finish but I am absolutely satisfied with this. also the bonus ending. yes

(there is) something I see in you - 8690 words summary: How one Rhys Strongfork met one Timothy Lawrence and how they fell for each other. More or less. note: best to go into this one blind, I swear. dumbest fic Ive ever written and please take this as a recommendation

this world is gonna pull through - 14380 words summary: Timothy really hoped it wasn’t anything important. He had that tendency to forget things easily, even if he tried to fight it. But Rhys kept on smiling and went by his side. So it couldn’t have been that bad. Still dumbfounded, he felt Rhys leaving a kiss right on his cheek.“November 11th? 

That- That seriously doesn’t ring any bells?” Rhys continued, brushing his hands against his shoulders. Or how Timothy spent one of his birthdays. note: also a love letter for Tim but a nicer one I guess kdjfnb dont ask how old is he i have no gdamn idea man

Strawberry Sweet - 3560 words summary: Rhys surprises Timothy with a gift for their date night in.

Happy Mercenary Day, Mr. Lawrence - 4670 words summary: How Timothy spent his first Mercenary Day on Promethea. note: I swear this is the best writer night Ive ever had. Ive written this whole thing in one night on Christmas day, solely on the inspo of that song I linked

Don’t Go Wasting Your Emotion - 4/4, 17080 words summary:  Afterwards, he went around with his usual duties. Getting a quick roundabout from his PA, checking several sectors himself and looking through the thousands of messages already sent to him via ECHOs. Rhys was ready to finally take on the day, yet when he made his way to the office, he saw the unusual envelope right by the edge of his desk. “For Rhys” was written on it. Straightforward enough. Or Rhys gets a letter from a secret admirer. note: another multichapter fic!! this one also took some time and well. its inspired by ABBA songs. cause only I would write a Rhysothy fic inspired by ABBA

Ratchet Effect - 7130 words summary: Knowing just how much overworked Rhys has been, Timothy wants to let them have a nice getaway in Lazy River Land. There's only one problem to overcome - ratch infestation. note: first fic of 2021!! Ive been playing a lot of bl3 suring the writing of it so it has a lot of stuff I had observed both on Promethea and on Jackpot

Reflections - 2250 words summary: Sometimes, Timothy needs a reminder.

Tales AU - second most important timeline. it’s Tales but Tim is a part of the group. sorted chronologically

A Story For Another Day - ongoing, for now -  2/25, 15280 words Tales AU main fic. it’s gonna be a big one

Connection Interrupted - 3240 words summary: With his driving shift finished, Timothy checks up on Rhys and Vaughn's plans.

Completely Hopeless - 1040 words summary: In which Fiona notices that Rhys behaves differently in front of a certain doppelganger.

infinity times infinity times infinity - 3460 words summary: Rhys and Timothy share some dreams and secrets underneath the stars. note: the beautiful combination of Sleeping At Last and Minecraft parodies. I promise it makes sense

reality can be whatever I want - 11420 words summary: “Hey, Tim?” Timothy didn’t even spare him a look, “Are we alone, or is he there with you?” Oh, this definitely won’t be pretty.

After the confession of Handsome Jack's AI in his head and his plan to infiltrate Helios, Rhys needs to set things right with Timothy. Somehow. note: thanosdancing.gif to Backstreet Boys’ “I Want It That Way” 80′s remix and a guest appearance from Ferocity but I cant legally say her name here

still here - 2820 words summary: It all had to go down, after Helios crashed. note: I have...a love/hate relationship with this one kjdfbfg I like it but it’s honestly an alternate ending and doesnt fit within our usual bad ending, so take it with a grain of salt. i ten jebany błąd językowy w summary, kiedy ja go poprawię

together at last - 5590 words summary: It all struck him down in an instant, in this one minute. They were all safe. And they were all alive. Nothing was threatening neither him, nor Timothy, nor Fiona. He could finally breathe out.

They all found each other again. note: I am multitasking most time of my life but I dont relate any other fic to multitasking more than this one. I was honestly doing 10 things at once while writing this dfkjbndf

David AU - this one is a sub AU to Tales AU and the plot is kind of complicated dfjkbfb please check the fic for further explanation

building in curved lines - 22490 words summary: “To be fair, you look terrible. You’re barely standing in one piece and none of your coffees will hold you together for that long,” Lilith paused, seemingly weighing the correct words in her head. “You haven’t really been holding on since… We rescued The Double.” Rhys sighed heavily. Why did she have to be so right about everything. Or how Rhys and Timothy adjust to the reality after the Handsome Jack AI. note: bday gift for Spok, EASILY one of my absolute faves and the longest fic Ive written thus far

outside of AUs - some concepts I play with that are honestly outside any of our concrete timelines/concepts + fics not focused on Rhysothy

Real - 770 words summary: Reconciling with your past is a little easier, when you have someone you love right in your arms. note: first blands fic I’ve ever written. the characterization isn’t really there yet but as a first shot at the game and my kind of “introduction”, I am still satisfied of it

(Un)Familiar Faces - 9620 words summary: Timothy pursed his lips and leaned over the wall a little. He’s had enough of this solitude of closed doppelganger cabinet. Today wasn’t the day for another self-loathing session. Today, he should go off on Helios and do something for himself.

Or Timothy spends the night at a Helios bar. But not as Handsome Jack. And not as Timothy Lawrence either. note: personal favorite of mine, tough love letter to Timothy Lawrence. I have so many fond memories of writing this, including getting drunk out of my mind just like Tim and Rhys here

basics of survival - 2010 words summary: Athena taught Timothy everything he needed to know about survival. Now, it was time to put these skills into use. note: wrote this right before rona outbreak on last day in my dorms. thats all

[lipstickbisous]

the rei brown series (1/3)

PICTURE FRAMES.

notes: yeah so i do write for (y/n) lol. just not for my oberyn series. this will have two parts but that’s it. this really has nothing to do with the plot of narcos, so sorry, but instead, we’re getting self-loathing javi. literally the only thing i’m good at is angst so...send that shit in. heaavvvvyyyy inspo from @gummiishark 😘

IT IS IMPORTANT THAT YOU LISTEN TO THE SONG. 

the poem used is NOT MINE.

there is a part that might not add up with the whole 80′s setting, just ignore that pls.

pairing: javier peña x reader

summary: what happens when memories begin to resurface and javi can’t stop them?

warnings: A N G S T -- ANGST ANGST ANGST. there will be a part two but ANGST. an a john mulaney reference ;)

based off of picture frames by rei brown.

word count: 3.2k

it was dark. that was all javi knew in the moment because he didn’t feel like getting up to check the clock in his kitchen. it hung delicately on his wall, almost like how his heart was delicately and barely clinging onto life. something inside of him was hurting, and it hadn’t hurt in a long time. it was foreign, yet when javier first felt the pang, he was nostalgic.

nostalgic of you? most likely, but he hadn’t thought of you in the past twenty years. it’d been too long, and if he was being honest, he’d been too busy--so he assumed that you had been as well. that you were married off to a kind man, because that’s what you deserved, with several beautiful children, a dog, a big house with good money (because that’s what you deserved). he wasn’t sure if you had gotten that, but he hoped to god it’s what life was meant for you. he knew was his life meant now--cheap alcohol and cigerattes, expensive girls and informants, and a job that had him slumped on his couch, ignoring the spanish being spoken on his television. 

he had wasted the past two decades with a career he thought was destined for him, but instead, he had made his living in murder. javi had spent countless nights with girls who were now unidentifiable. three nights ago, he had a pretty brunette in his bed, and once she left in the morning, he couldn’t even remember her name. martina? no, it started with an ‘f’, he was sure...

even though he had managed to convince himself over twenty years that he had completely rid himself of you for good, he could still remember your name. your teenage face smiling in the texas sunlight. sometimes, you would come over to the ranch and simply just sit with the horses. you’d stated that they had a certain essence to them that you enjoyed, but he knew that despite the girls in your grade teasing you about it, horses were your favorite animal. you had light laugh lines creasing from behind your nostrils to the corners of your mouth every time you laughed. javier could remember admiring them.

god, javier admired everything about you. even now, as his eyes were focused on the television but couldn’t think about a single thing it was showing him, he still admired the way you had laughed during summer hang-outs, or during the halls of high school when he tried to crack a joke. and they hadn’t even all that funny--but then again, you did have a big sense of humor and were easily amused.

he had polaroids of the two of you somewhere in his bedroom. he had made sure to pack them along with him on his way to colombia. he didn’t even want to think about the last time you two had spoke. it had been a neutral departing, and even if javi didn’t know it, you were both hiding things you had to say. he’d given it to you simply--a straightforward “i’m leaving texas”--and you were frozen. 

you wanted to support him, of course you wanted to support him. you would be attending college as well, but you were staying in the state. your mother had been scared to death of you leaving texas for school, and as much as you hated it, you could never defy your mother. so, in that moment, you hadn’t moved for a good three minutes. it took a gentle hand on your shoulder to wake you.

“oh,” you whispered, but it was more of an incoherent noise. “that’s nice.” you’d said as well.

at first, you were angry that he could go back on a promise he made to you when you were both four years old--neither of you would ever leave the other. then, you were quick to realize that your frustration was nothing more than your fault. why would you back everything that was happening on a stupid promise you made when you were four years old?

he’d driven you home that night and you had murmured a quiet goodbye in the sticky summer air, but it had gotten caught on its way to javier’s ears. to him, you had left his truck without a word.

javier pushed that memory away. he dug a hole in his brain and buried the thought in its gravery, shoving the dirty onto its wooden box and taking a swig of whiskey. he stood from his couch and flipped the television off, watching as its screen remained with the green halo and the top was still hot. the streets outside of his apartment were always loud, but even now, whether it was a coincidence or not, only two or three cars were passing by quietly. 

he let out a grumble and flipped off the light to his living room and kitchen, stumbling into his bedroom and collapsing on top of the bed. his sheets, a pristine pearl white, usually calmed him in the dead of night when he had a long day at work or maybe he had lost an officer. these sheets, the ones that held so many girls but never you, now did nothing for him. even the smell seemed bland, they weren’t the normal fresh detergent smell. he pressed his cheek flat against the mattress and pulled a pillow over his head, trying to muffle out any small noise or sight that could bother him in the morning. when stuck between his bed and pillow, he exhaled and immediately cringed. his breath reeked of whiskey and cigarettes and whatever spicy food he’d eaten that night--he couldn’t even remember.

then, an idea sparked. it hadn’t been sinful or devilish but his eyes shot open and he threw the pillow to the floor. a car drove past his window, the lights moving through his room. javier propelled himself from his bed and swung his hand over the floor lamp in next to his desk. the room was illuminated and he could only imagine how insane he looked; his hair tousled in different directions, his eyes puffy from absentmindedly crying, his hands frantically running themselves over every piece of furniture in his room. he flipped the covers from his bed and looked underneath but found no monsters or anything. he pulled out drawers from his desk and emptied their contents onto the floor, but only found highlighters, papers, pens, and work-related material (that, if javier was being honest, should not have been in his home). he left the empty drawers on the floor and turned to the bookshelf, pulling every book off of its surface until the shelves were bare.

a hand rubbed over his mouth as he felt tears threatening him again. he could not cry--he wouldn’t. it was then that javi realized the mess he had made and his anxiety completely tipped him off of the cliff edge. he began to lose his composure, breaking down in a way that he was sure made him look ugly. he fell to his knees and leaned against the end of his bed, bringing his knees to his chest. he wore only a t-shirt and boxers, but even in the colombian heat, he felt cold. 

he couldn’t bring himself to say your name. javier felt that just the small noise of his own voice would scare him, but he had always thought your name was the prettiest.

(y/n). he thought in his head, that mental voice almost screaming at him. just fucking say it. 

javier stuttered, choking on his own words, and he never stuttered. he always knew exactly what he wanted, and in this moment, he only wanted you. but you were over a thousand miles away and he had no idea if you even still thought about him. he hoped so, but he wouldn’t blame you if the name “javier peña” hadn’t been used by your lips in a long time.

back in texas all that time ago, he had left the next day. you called his father back at the ranch to try and make some sort of contact but the news had been announced that javier peña was no longer in texas and was on his way to a new school to meet new people and--this hurt you the worst--new girls.

you had never been one for jealousy. it was a vile monster that you just morally could not let take control over you, but for the second and that second only, it was all you felt. you loved javier and he just left? he left you at home while he traveled over the country.

javier didn’t dare to think about it. as he continued to stutter, he let out the smallest of whimpers with the syllables of your name. “(y/n),” he cried to himself and squeezed his eyes shut. hot tears stained his cheeks as they continued to flow in a way that seemed endless. the feeling of his lips pronouncing your name sent chills down his spine as he said it again, “(y/n).”

there were now small splotches on his shirt where his tears had left his face and dripped onto the fabric, and when pressed flush against his skin as he stood, it felt icy. he didn’t feel like doing much, and maybe that was because in his eyes, he had wasted almost his entire life so far on a fucking job. he was practically praying that you had found something good to do--even maybe hoping that you would still visit the ranch sometimes to sit with the horses, but that seemed like a stretch considering your last encounter. 

finally, javi looked to his small closet that held nothing more than button-up shirts, tan-colored suits, and stacks of blue jeans. he chewed on his bottom lip and furrowed a brow. he couldn’t have possibly been that simple as to put something he held so close to his heart in his...closet? his feet carried him to the closet doors before he ripped them open and began throwing out hangers of clothes onto his bed. really, he didn’t care if it was a mess now--he’d clean it up later because in this moment, what he was searching for was all that mattered.

there was a shelf above the bar of his closet that held all of his hangers, but even though javier was considerably tall, he couldn’t reach it. with a harsh sigh, he kicked all of the clothes surrounding him on the floor away and grabbed the chair from his desk. he cringed as the sound of the wooden pegs meeting the wooden floor was insanely loud in the quiet moment before standing on the chair. he could just barely see over the shelf, but he didn’t need to see anymore. a large cardboard box that had been collecting dust and sitting in bored in closet for years seemed to shine in a halo of angelic light. his gaze softened once his hand reached the back and he pulled the box down to him. 

the creases of the cardboard had aged over time and the edges were slightly ripped, but overall, it had been kept in good shape--even when considering that javi hadn’t even looked at it for a long time, let alone hold it in his arms.

it felt like it was almost an historic artifact, that if javier applied just a bit too much pressure, it would turn to dust in his hold. he breathed carefully before gently setting it down on his bed, throwing the hangers of clothes onto the floor. currently, not a square inch of wooden flooring could be seen in his room. his eyes were wide as he traced his fingers over the box, recognizing the faded logo of the brand of boots you wore in highschool. he’d asked for your shoe box, you had no idea why, but now here javier sat with it in front of him all these years later. 

his fingers just barely grazed over the edge of the lid before lifting it from the rest of the box, the dust gently blowing the air and small puffs of his breath. the first thing he noticed was the photo of you he held dearest.

it had been winter in texas and you were both sixteen. usually, during the cold season, because your hometown was so close to the border, the most winter-ish reaction you could get from texas was ice, but this year had been special because it had snowed. little snowflakes fell so delicately and collected on the ground until it grew to be at least several inches high. the roads were completely ice so your school had been cancelled on that thursday. it had been, personally, you and javi’s first taste of snow. and you both had spent ten minutes outside, bundled up in snow gear you never had to use before until you both decided that the snow was not for you and you retreated inside. his father had even gone as far to make hot cocoa and sandwiches for you two. javi had taken the photo with his father’s camera, one that he normally wasn’t allowed to use, when he had captured the perfect moment of you caught up in your laughter. 

he pulled out various other photos from that day and others out of the box and reached a series of polaroids, and this time, it had been from summer. you had daisies in your hair because javier had taken the time to weave them through they strands so they stayed in place. he remembered how you had poked fun at him because while the gesture was so effortless, he stuck his tongue out like he was intently working. in the picture you sat in the fields while the horses were home in their stables, but a small foal had managed to escape. it’s wobbly knees kept it struggling to stand. the next photo was you noticing the creature almost falling over behind you. the third was you laughing and holding it up with your hands on both sides of its stomach.

you had never faked a smile. javier knew so because the one time you had tried, it had gone horribly wrong and he saw right through it. you immediately spilled everything that had been bothering you and he took you out for dinner the diner. 

he continued to shuffle through the polaroids, carefully examining each one that showed your genuine excitement and happiness of life. his fingers would trace around the rim before he sensitively placed them in one large pile. he grew closer to the bottom of the box, and as he began to see its cardboard base and that boot logo again, his art ached. back in texas, he had so many more photos of you and he absolutely loathed his younger self for not packing them. 

there was more in the box than just photos. he had also managed to pack one of your hoodies because you had left it at his house and never bothered to retrieve it. javier wasn’t sure if the act was creepy in a way, but the fabric had been so soft that whenever he held it, he thought of you. of course, during the past years, the smell of your perfume had completely faded and the sweatshirt smelled like any other old hoodie. 

beneath the hoodie was a numerous amount of papers you had written and hidden in your room, but you had never been one for secrets. a day together over the summer and javi found them sticking out of your dresser drawer. he wasn’t sure if even to this day you knew he had them. on the paper, which had turned yellow due to age, you had written small poems. some had been about love, others about friends, and a few about summer and winter. (javi liked to believe that when you were writing about the winter ones, you were thinking of your time in the snow with him)

then, there were the poems he had written. he had never let you see any of them or even know about them. he had written them in a journal he kept at his desk, and whenever you asked about it, he would dismiss you and say it was ‘an old school journal he kept for notes’, but when javier was packing, he ripped each page out and clipped them together and put them in the box. tears clouded his vision as he reread his poems.

a sunflower soul, with rock and roll eyes. curious thoughts, and a heart of surprise.

he had written about you.

finally, javier stared down at an empty box, apart from the single card that remained at the bottom. it been hidden underneath every memory he had of you, and when his fingers unfolded the paper, he let out a choked sob when he recognized the numbers.

never in his life had javier felt such nausea. was the number even yours? were you even in texas anymore? you could’ve moved to fucking new york and completely altered your life. but...it wouldn’t hurt to try...right? he stood from his knees, instantly feeling the imprinted lines from the wooden flooring in his skin, and he only hesitated no more than two seconds before sprinting to his dining room, almost running straight past the phone.

with the paper in between his fingers and his hand violently shaking, his tears falling and his throat constricting to keep in a sob, he dialed the number and hopefully waited for a voice--any voice, even if it wasn’t yours, although if it did belong to himself, he didn’t know what he would do.

three dial tones later and no one had picked up. his eyes became lost in the darkness of his dining room before the line went blank. “no,” he whispered. “no, no, no, no.” so foolish of him to think that there could possibly be hope. javier dialed the numbers again and waited several seconds before a groggy voice answered. he realized just how late (or early) it had been and that whoever answered would be woken up by this phone call at two-thirty in the morning.

“hello?” the voice was unrecognizable yet familiar. javi was quiet, his breath even inaudible as he contemplated how to reply. “hello?” 

he chewed his bottom lip and squeezed his eyes shut, releasing any other tears that were preparing themselves to fall . “(y/n)?” he spoke your name again and god did it feel good to say the one word that gave him solace.

it was silent. unbearably, cruelly, life-threateningly silent. his breathing began to quick as he felt his heart stop. his brows furrowed in some sort of shock but he was defeated. he clenched the paper in his palm so that it crumpled with a gentle sound, the only thing that really broke that painful silence. until the voice spoke again.

“javi?” you whispered, sitting up in your bed. your eyes were now fully open, your drowsiness had completely left your body. your gaze into the darkness of your room softened as you began to happily cry. “javier?”

on the other side of the line, javi only smiled.

tags: literally no one lmao @gummiishark @cyarikaaa @honeyedspace @talesfromtheguild @absurdthirst @pascalisthepunkest @wakalas @zeldasayer @blushingwueen @forever-rogue @otherthingsinhead @pedropascalito @thewaythisis @javierpenaspinkshirt

[allisondraste]

Writer’s Questionnaire

I was tagged by @gingerbreton​ !   Thank you, friend!!!

short stories, novels, or poems?  I much prefer to write short stories because they take up less of my brain space and I am more likely to be able to complete them than longer stories or poems.  However, I used to be a prolific poetry writer.  I had tons of poems saved to an old email account that has sense been deleted and I have no way of retrieving those poems. 

what genre do you prefer reading?  I love fantasy and science fiction, as well as historial fiction.  However, I will read anything as long as it is very character-focused.  I love exciting adventures and stories, but what really draws me into a piece is the character development, what motivates characters, what makes them who they are.  Bonus points if it is not stated outright and I have to figure it out.  

what genre do you prefer writing?  Go figure, I really like to write character-focused fantasy.  My favorite type of such is hurt/comfort or just a smidge of angst.  I like show how strong people can be when they are faced with adverse events, and how those events affect them going forward.  Relationships are are also a personal favorite of mine, so I also write a lot of romance. 

Are you a planner or a write-as-I-go kind of person?  I suppose it depends on what I’m writing.  For longer stories, I have rough chapter outlines, but for short stories, I usually fly by the seat of my pants. 

what music do you listen to while writing?  I have a hard time listening to music with lyrics while I write, so most of my writing happens with ambient noises or instrumental pieces.  While I am daydreaming about my writing I sometimes shuffle my entire library and skip through until something hits me just right.  Results on that are varied. 

fave books/movies?  I am not a big movie-watcher type person, but I have an inordinate amount of love for the movie Love and Other Drugs.  It is one of my all time favorites.  As far as books go, I really enjoyed Jennifer Donnelly’s YA works, Crime and Punishment, and the Artemis Fowl series. 

any current WIPs? I have one more chapter in my post-blight-confused emotions-hurt-comfort-angst fest Convalescence.  It is an epilogue of sorts, and completely in the works.  I’m also working on my Big Mega Longfic (that will probably the shortest longfic ever) Beneficence, which is an MGIT about a psychologist who is pulled across time and space through the Fade by a spirit. I’m working on chapter 6 as we speak. 

if someone were to make a cartoon out of you, what would your standard outfit be?  leggings, tunic, peacoat

create a character description for yourself?  Medium-length brown hair and hazel eyes that are sometime more green and sometimes more brown depending on what color shirt she is wearing.  Grumpy, stubborn, easily excitable but tires quickly.  Not as cool as she pretends to be. 

do you like incorporating people you actually know into your writing?  A lot of my characters are plucked right out of the DA universe, so I’m writing about characters I already know, but not people.  I definitely think that I draw from real life experience and real life people who are similar to those folks when I am writing however.  It has helped me come up with some interesting lines. 

are you kill-happy with characters?  I have only killed two characters and they were both AUs/in dreams in an in-universe story.  One was a fic where Lucia pushed Alistair out of the way and took a blow that was meant for him.  Another was a Solavellan piece where So Done Lavellan killed Solas in a dream.  I can’t kill my children for real.  That would make me a monster.  I do however enjoy some casual emotional torture. 

coffee or tea while writing?  Tea. 

slow or fast writer?  Again, it depends.  I can crank out dialogue like nobody’s business, but ask me to describe how my characters are moving, what the surrounding scenery looks like, etc., I stall for days. 

where/who/what do you find inspiration from?  Oh boy, so I have some amazingly wonderful fandom friends who support and encourage me in my endeavors.  A lot of my writing inspo has come from discussions with them.  Other than that, there are some songs that inspire me. 

if you were put into a fantasy world, what would you be?  Realistically, some random village nobody who thinks too much and does to little; however, since we’re using our imaginations here, I definitely believe that my scholarly ways would make me most likely to be a mage of some sort, probably a healer or alchemist. 

most favourite book cliche?  least fave book cliche?  My favorite cliche is strong female characters who don’t need romance to make them whole, and who are completely interesting characters on their own without a love interest, but who happen to meet someone who does not complete them, but adds  little accent notes to their story that makes it even more beautiful than it already was.  Bonus if that character is also completely whole outside of the romance.  My least favorite cliche is damsel-in-distress type things. 

fave scenes to write?  Conversations, banter, and the internal musings of any given character.  I love writing people and their thoughts and interactions with others the most. 

most productive time of day for writing?  The middle of the damn night when I need to be asleep. 

reason for writing?  Self-care, escapism, pure enjoyment, creative expression... it’s a challenge and something that I have always enjoyed but would like to be better at. 

[resbang-bookclub]

AMA Transcript: Soul Eater: A New Madness Consumes?

Next, @emiralnova (Ryu on Discord) stopped in to talk about her Resbang, Soul Eater: A New Madness Consumes? Here’s some of what went down:

Q: What made you think of the plot? Did you know how you were going to end it before you started writing? (I really loved the canceling out concept).

Ryu: Lolololol what is plot? I didn’t have too much of a plan going in. I had their mission sorta laid out, but after the mission I winged it. I feel that writing this was a tad difficult because I wanted to stay in canon and omg never again lol, but it was really fun and satisfying towards the end.

Q: Do you feel like your writing style grew/improved while writing? Was there anything you wish you could have included or that you cut out?

Ryu: I think I improved a little just by the act of writing, which I need to do more of, lol. And I think it was jaded who mentioned “what happened to Maka's christmas gift?” and that kinda got lost in the end, my bad lol.

Q: Do you have any favorite beta comments you’d like to share?

Ryu: Omg there was one thing that marsh said: 'Be the laxative Soul.'

Q: Was music important to your process at all, and if so, are there any songs/playlists that were relevant?

Ryu: I tend to not listen to music when I write cause it distracts me. Unless it fits the mood I need. But usually, no music.

Q: What are you most proud of in this bang?

Ryu: I think I’m really proud of what I did with the mission to the moon and rescuing Crona. Like, I had to plan out what I wanted and it was like a few days before posting, so I crunched it out. And I pulled the whole cancel out and 8 kishin horcruxes out of my ass, but it worked out.

Q: What are you working on next?

Ryu: I am working on nothing writing-related atm.

Q: Was there anything in mind that you wanted to do with the Christmas gift? :0 Like, if the notion hadn't slipped away?

Ryu:  I sorta wanted a more romantic scene to happen and it was supposed to happen before Maka collapsed. But that scene ran away from me so it didn’t work out ^^"

Q: Okay your villain was so interesting, how did you come up with that concept?

Ryu: Oh, the wizard. So like during my first Resbang, I had a dream that basically took place in Brazil at the monolith and there was a guy that was there and was speaking mysterious words to Maka, and that is sorta what I pulled on the entire first mission. His design is slightly based on that one antagonist in BNHA. Slade? Shade? I forgot his name. STAIN, HIM.

https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/263055402583851008/409538871441883138/tumblr_o9sua1jpR61vux8v6o3_400.gif

Ryu: Like his posture and hair and skin were the same. [He’s] maybe less thug and more old and evil.

Q: What's your writing process like?

Ryu: I definitely work better when I plot out my shit point by point, so if I were to deviate, it can happen but at least I had a point for the scene. And it was hard cause of laziness buttt the checkins really helped me decide what would actually happen.

Q: Is there anything you wish you could change?

Ryu: I kinda wished I had more time so that I could maybe have a better ending. I feel like the cancelling out was good for the circumstances, but it felt like cheating to me, but it largely worked out and I was ok with it.

Q: Why the amazon?

Ryu: Hmm idk. I think the guy I liked at the time was half Brazilian so I just… made it so. But it wasn’t done in the fandom yet, so I felt that Brazil was a safe place to host my mission. And I also pictured tons of trees and tropical areas. So… Brazil.

Q: Who is the Wizard? Does he have a real name? Is he actually Mabaa's brother?

Ryu: I didn’t have a real name for him. And it’s rumored but not confirmed, like I said in the fic.

Q: Do you think your view on characters changed or anything as you wrote?

Ryu: I felt like I was stretching Maka’s mindset during her fall out but it was okay? I think? Whenever I think of Maka, I tend to imagine her as like this brave, no nonsense sorta girl that wouldn't really let her emotions hold her back? At least that is what I struggled with this whole fic. But I think I did the best I could to try to make it realistic, and I think that sort of helped balance Soul out because he seemed to be the most put-together of the two. And I sorta drew my inspo from the sloth chapter from the manga to help me cement some of Maka's guilt.

Q: Did you have a fav moment in the fic. Mine is def chew toy Soul.

Ryu: Omg I love that part. I feel like my favorite part would be Crona and Maka reuniting. I think I teared up a little writing that scene. I felt guilty about Rag. Like, I wanted to save him too, but the black blood held me back.

Q: I really liked that he did the good thing in the end though. Like, he actually gave a shit.

Ryu: I struggled with that at first cause I didn't just want to get rid of him for no reason other than the blood thinning or something. I think it would've redeemed his character a little, so I was really happy with that. The ending for me somehow pulled itself together at the last minute lol.

Q: Were there any parts you had to rewrite? :0 And if so, why?

Ryu: Ughhh so the fic started with Spartoi waking up as animals??? That was the original beginning, and that was supposed to lead into the Brazil mission. But when I started to plot the story out, the story turned out much darker than I intended and so the beginning didn't fit anymore. So i had to start from scratch. At some point I wanted to rewrite first half so that the story became more linear than having the flashback, but I didn't have time for it. ^^" I did rewrite some paragraphs, but that was basic editing. I found that later, when I was in the writing process, there were some passages that were weak and long, so I cut a lot of stuff out, and rewrote them to fit the tone.

Q: Was there a scene that was your least fave to write?

Ryu: I feel like the Death Room meetings dragged me, but I had to do it. Also I have a thing where the death room is the place to spam info into dialogue. So in the future, I kinda want to deviate from the room for more nuanced info dumps

Q: I love that you dealt with witch relations and all those post canon dynamics, was that always the plan?

Ryu: i sort of wanted to play with all the things that happened after the manga happened, so it just worked out that the witches were there and I was dealing with magic/kishin stuff lol. And that Kid would need to prove himself somehow. I think Kid ended up being more of a central character than I intended, but he is a Shinigami after all lol. I wish I did more with Black Star and Tsubaki, but I have trouble writing them. ^^"

Q: What would you have done with B*S and Tsu, any ideas? :0

Ryu: Hmmm, I wish i could've used them as more plot devices instead of comic relief. Like maybe Black Star could've been more involved with... idk, something serious lololol. In which then Tsubaki would also come into play. I figured if anything, he would at least be there to give some advice and common sense in a funny way :D

Q: How did you come up with the whole cutting up Asura thing? And btw I love that it's acknowledged in fic how gruesome it is.

Ryu: Hmm I’m not sure how it happened but I knew I needed something to happen to Asura once he fell, and my instant reaction was 'cut him up into pieces.' We needed some blood in here, and the spreading it across everywhere sorta made sense as well to me. I didn't intend for it to be like 7 horcruxes, but it [was]. Whoopsss, sorry JKR lol. So yeah, it was mostly a kneejerk reaction. Because if the skin bag didn't work, well ok, let’s cut him up then lol. And he's immortal as well, so Kid had to do something!

Q: Do you think you'll do Resbang next year or any other big projects? :D It sounds like you grew and learned so much from it!

Ryu: I don’t have any active plans. I do have a few AUs on a list but they're hard affffff. Like Evangelion AU. That universe is like a trip and a half, so I don’t think I’m ready for that yet lol. In the meantime, I’m still mulling over my own OC universe I've sat on for ages. But who knows what'll happen this year. We'll see.

---

Thanks to Ryu for stopping by! Stay tuned for more transcripts!

[fashiontrendin-blog]

Menocore is the New Normcore, and It’s a Lot More Comfortable

http://fashion-trendin.com/menocore-is-the-new-normcore-and-its-a-lot-more-comfortable/

Menocore is the New Normcore, and It’s a Lot More Comfortable

The other day I found myself fantasizing about moving into a lighthouse. In this not uncommon fantasy of mine, I am rocking a breezy yet put-together white outfit, the perfect menocore ensemble. Early summer is the perfect time to get into your 2000-present day Diane Keaton inspired looks, so I figured this post deserved to fill your feeds once again. Originally published in July of 2017 it is a timeless beauty, much like a good pair of linen pants. – Nora 

All I want is to dress like Diane Keaton in Something’s Gotta Give right now.

The realization dawned on me as I surveyed my closet at the beginning of summer. After a few weeks of mulling it over, I decided to pitch it as a style story.

“I want to style three looks inspired by the aesthetic of a middle-aged woman on a low-key beach vacation,” I said. “You know: lots of linen, tiny spectacle sunglasses, maybe a bucket hat, cozy knits, everything super flowy…” My voice trailed off as I searched my coworkers’ faces for a flicker of recognition.

24 PHOTOS click for more

“So many people are getting into that Eileen Fisher aesthetic lately,” said Amelia.

“Yes!” I said. “Exactly! It’s kind of a thing right now, right?”

“Maybe that’s why I keep dressing like a retired masseuse,” said Leandra. “Drawstring linen pants, open button-downs…”

“Yeah, very relaxed,” I said. “Unselfconscious-cool. Picture a 50-something-year-old woman who doesn’t care what other people think and just wants to be supremely comfortable.”

“Is this the new normcore?” Haley asked.

“Maybe,” I said. “I’m trying to think of how to describe it in that same vein. Middle-aged…menopausal…Menocore??”

The name stuck. Every time one of us walked into the office wearing an outfit resembling that of a mom in a Nancy Meyers movie or an eccentric ceramicist exiting her beach house studio or Blythe Danner on a solo bird-watching expedition in 1997, someone would inevitably say, “Well, well, well. Aren’t you looking menocore today?”

Sup

A post shared by Anna Z Gray (@annazgray) on May 2, 2017 at 9:38am PDT

I started seeing menocore everywhere. I became obsessed with documenting it. My bookmarks folder on Instagram overflowed with evidence: billowy pants sporting elasticized waist bands, head-to-toe ecru, well-loved market bags, loose tops with bold prints, exposed bras, clunky sandals or sneakers, loose ponytails secured with scrunchies, a porcelain bowl of freshly-cut pineapple sitting on rumpled white bedsheets, jewelry that looked like something a kid might make in art class, unapologetic sun protection for unapologetic sun protection’s sake, tarnished gold barrettes and sequins just for the fun of it.

Like normcore, menocore isn’t tied to a particular designer or brand, but unlike normore, it doesn’t have an obvious uniform — no boxy jeans + turtleneck + clogs formula. Yet under the umbrella of menocore exists two archetypes: On one side of the spectrum, there’s the very neutral, head-to-toe white linen, rolled-up khaki pant cuffs, life-on-the-beach vibe propagated by middle-aged style icons like Diane Keaton, Whoopi Goldberg and Lauren Hutton. On the other side of the spectrum, there’s the tropical print, silk cargo pocket, plastic bead jewelry, clashing print, cerulean satin jogger pant, waistless kaftan-wearing vibe espoused by the likes of Carlyne Cerf de Dudzeele, Miuccia Prada and Lucinda Chambers. Current pre-menopausal aficionados of the first look include Lucia Zolea, Nella Beljan, Subrina Heyink and Virginia Calderón; of the second: Frewa Wewer and Laurel Pantin.

“For me, the look is a sort of shapeless dress that shows my décolletage (I will always love a little cleavage), my massive jumble of gold and sentimental necklaces, flat strappy sandals and semi-frizzy hair,” said Pantin, Editorial & Fashion Director at The Coveteur. “I like the term menocore. When I’m shopping, I definitely have a mental image of an older Italian woman who wears a lot of Marni, Dries, classic shirts unbuttoned low, LOTS of old, gold jewelry and a big, overgrown garden.”

Menocore is by no means limited to these stylistic personas, though. I see plenty of outfits that combine them, and that’s what I tried to do while styling the shoot inside this feature. I think of them more as the minimalist and maximalist points on either end of menocore’s all-encompassing rainbow, with lots of variation and individual interpretation happening in between.

What I love most about the movement is how it pays long-overdue homage to an age bracket that is often ignored by the fashion industry. Our attention to youth has always been very much intact, and the octogenarian subset joined the zeitgeist awhile ago thanks to icons like Iris Apfel and blogs like Advanced Style, leaving women in the middle relatively invisible. Menocore is finally giving them the spotlight they deserve.

“Growing up, my mom was always my barometer of taste, always focusing on great pieces rather than trends,” said stylist Danielle Nachmani, who frequently incorporates what I would call signature menocore items into her shoots — bucket hats, thick gold hoops, khaki pants, linen blazers, etc. If the normcore-fueled proliferation of mom jeans was an ode to the clothes our mothers wore in their 20s, menocore is a tribute to the clothes they wear now. And it’s not just a fashion statement — it’s a mood. Or, at the very least, a projection of one.

“Menocore is such a great term for this,” designer Lucy Akin said when I reached out to her over email. Akin is the creator of Ciao Lucia, a brand new, California-based label I flagged during my research. “Fashion is reflecting our need for an escape from our current reality,” she said. “When the state of the world, or the political climate, feels uncertain, it’s only logical that we would want our clothing reflect ease, maturity and confidence. I turn 30 next year, and with Ciao Lucia, I was channeling an older version of myself who has life a little more figured out. My goal was to make a collection that felt happy and calm, with classic silhouettes and flowy fabrics. The overall look is timeless, comforting and comfortable.”

I agree that this movement goes beyond clothing, which is why I mentioned that photo of freshly-cut pineapple sitting on rumpled white bedsheets in my aforementioned list of examples — not because of what it was (chopped pineapple is not particularly remarkable), but rather, because of what is was not. It was not some trendy frozen cauliflower smoothie, or chia parfait dusted with ashwaganda powder. It wasn’t something that took hours to make, or something that ascribes to “shoulds.” It was something a mom might prepare as a snack for her kid or for herself, and therein lies the sweetness – literal and figurative.

Like the bowl of pineapple, the style element of menocore is also defined by what it is not: trendy, prescribed, price-dependent, impersonal. It started off the runway, propagated by regular people just living their lives and dressing in clothes that made them feel like the best versions of themselves (regardless of trend or designer name). Now that its begun to proliferate across industry darlings, indie designers and social media “inspo” accounts, I wouldn’t be surprised to find traces of menocore finding its way onto the runway, ever-so-subtly, come September fashion week.

“People are gravitating toward a simpler way of life in general,” Marie Dewet told me. She and her mother are the co-founders of Maison Cleo, one of the small, fledgling labels that, like Ciao Lucia, I consider representative of the menocore movement (and also a product of it, to some extent). “Not just with the clothes we wear, but also with the food we eat, the way we decorate our homes, the way we live our lives. “The thing about simplicity is that it doesn’t have to be boring, or even minimalist. It’s more about stripping away the noise.”

New York Magazine called normcore, “The aesthetic return to styles [we] would’ve worn as kids reads like a reset button—going back to a time before adolescence, before we learned to differentiate identity through dress.” In fascinating contrast, menocore is the aesthetic leap to styles we would embrace as middle-aged women, taking us forward in time to a more marinated version of our selves, our mothers and our world.

Or, I don’t know…maybe we all just wanted to start wearing comfier pants.

Photos by Edith Young. Modeled by Hema Barbosa of MSA Models; follow Hema and MSA Models on Instagram @gemzb_ and @msamodels.