#Dowdy
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Dowdy
She was going to stop seeing him anyway.
He didn't know that, of course. As far as he was concerned, things were going great.
Things weren't going great.
She wasn't a nice person, not by any stretch of the imagination. Insincere, fickle, teasing, and difficult, Malika was never more invested in someone more than she was invested in herself. She was selfish and unbothered by it. Everyone, to her mind, would be a lot happier if they allowed themselves to be more selfish.
And this guy she'd gone on a handful of dates with was certainly selfish.
But he was also mean.
And it was a boring, unfun, unpleasant sort of meanness. Being mean could be entertaining! Malika'd always enjoyed a good biting back and forth between two shitty people who clearly were having a good time with their horribleness. But the participants had to enjoy it or what was the point?
There was nothing joyful or entertaining about this man's meanness. He didn't seem to get anything out of it but anger and an inflated sense of superiority. He brought the mood around him down with it. That was the exact opposite of fun and Malika was only ever invested so long as there was fun to be had.
Oh, sure, he was attractive. He had the prettiest brown eyes she'd ever seen. And she'd never dated a Viera before so that was novel and exciting. But there would be more pretty brown eyes out there for her to marvel at and he wasn't the only Viera in the world. Maybe the next one would at least have fun when he was being a bastard.
Tassilo was always particularly shitty when it came to fashion. On every one of the four or five dates she'd gone on with him, he'd commented on how little the others around them seemed to care about their appearance. He'd criticize color choices, material choices, shoe choices, jewelry, hair styles– really anything at all– as though it were fascinating conversation that made him look particularly gifted at fashion himself.
It didn't. He looked fine. But his snide, angry comments actually made him look less fashionable and less attractive, not more.
So she had no choice. She had to end it.
And if she was going to end it, she was going to have fun with it.
Why do anything at all if it wasn't fun?
He'd invited her to a fancy art gala. He'd told her he'd bought a new, tailored outfit for it. He would be wearing new, expensive boots. He couldn't wait to see what she'd wear.
She looked forward to showing him.
He did not appreciate being shown.
"How do I look?" she asked, turning in a circle to give him the full view from all angles. "I worked hard on it."
"What have you…" his face was red either from anger or embarrassment, perhaps both.
"You don't like it?"
'It' was a literal burlap sack– well, several burlap sacks that she'd fashioned into the most shapeless dress imaginable. It hung, unflatteringly, straight down, somehow managing to avoid every sensual curve of her body in the process. It was completely shapeless. She'd worked hard on that and was genuinely quite pleased to have accomplished it. With it she wore gray shoes she'd fashioned from cheap felt. They were extremely poorly made, given she had no experience making shoes, and they hardly functioned at all. In fact, she had to wait to put them on once she'd gotten close to the date spot because she knew they'd be too ruined to be effective otherwise.
She'd chopped her long black hair to her shoulders. She'd done it herself with no measuring and no care. It did not look good.
Her nail polish was chipped.
Her jewelry was cheap and did not match.
She wore no makeup on her face.
He had no way of knowing how much effort she'd just spent to look like she'd made no effort at all.
"You've done this on purpose," he said matter of factly, but there was a dangerous chill to his voice.
Oh. Ok. Maybe he did know!
"You've done this to embarrass me."
Wow. Damn. He was surprisingly perceptive. Credit where credit was due.
"So…" she said slowly, playing stupid, "You're saying you don't like it?"
"I was excited to see you. I've been excited all week. And you ruined it. You ruined it!"
She smiled. "Yeah. Ruining stuff is kind of my thing. I'm very good at it.”
"You can't go in there."
"Oh, I bet I can."
He bristled. "You can't go in there with me. I won't let you. It's not happening."
"If you go in there," she said sweetly, "I will find every excuse to stand next to you. If you are embarrassed now, I urge you to consider just how embarrassed you'll be if I make a scene."
He stared at her.
She stared right back.
He'd always had a million things to say before. Now he couldn't even think of one. Defeated, he relented.
"Ok. Let's go in together."
"Wait, what??"
She hadn't expected this response.
"You win," he said. "Let's go in together. Let's have this last date. We'll look at art. I won't comment on your clothes. After, we'll go back to my place where I'll angrily take them off you. In the morning you break up with me the right way and steal one of my favorite shirts. You suffer for several moons while your hair, which you hastily chopped off just to spite a guy you knew for one moon, grows back. I spend the same amount of time resenting you until I realize you're not worth resenting because you're an insane, petty bitch."
Wow.
Ok.
So he was capable of being interesting while being mean.
This was, in fact, the most interesting he had ever been and she loved it!
She absolutely loved it.
Fuck!
She grinned. It was genuine. "Ok," she said, taking his arm,"You'll have to point out your favorite shirt to me though. I've only known you a moon. I haven't figured it out yet."
He chuckled ruefully and led her inside, "Of course. I'd hate to make the break up difficult on you, after all."
They would date for several more moons until he eventually broke up with her for being insincere, fickle, teasing, and difficult. She still stole his favorite shirt. And left her burlap dress behind in his closet as a souvenir.
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Title: FFXIV Write 2023 - 12. Dowdy
Characters: Y'shtola Rhul, Tataru Taru
Rating: Teen
Summary: Tataru and Y'shtola catch up a bit
Notes: None
Y'shtola stood in the inn room in Gridania, holding her arms out as Tataru fussed about her, making final adjustments to her outfit. And while Tataru made her final adjustments to Y'shtola, Y'shtola made final adjustments to her eyes. The haze and shift of aether waxed and waned around her, as she once more began the life long work of adjusting her aether, this time not for vanity nor destiny, but for the rather more mundane but necessary requirements for sight.
Well. If that was the worst her misadventure in the Lifestream would beget her, she would be glad for it. They had not found Thancred yet, but Y'shtola found herself unworried. Her focus had been to get him free of their conundrum, and free she was certain he was, it would just be a matter of time until he chose to make his appearance.
For now, she decided to focus on the here and now, grateful that she was amongst friends once more. And where Y'mhitra had been perhaps on the edge of being burdensome with her attentions and worries, Tataru's attentions were more of relief and simple gladness at her return. Now, the little Lalafell was lost in the element of applying her newly formed skill. Her attentions were almost carefree, and Y'shtola decided she would follow that fine example.
"...there," Tataru declared, hopping off her stool and taking a step back.
Y'shtola stood, and found her way to the mirror. This presented a new challenge, but one she would be pleased to overcome. She stood and looked at herself for several long moments, making fine adjustments, until something like herself came into focus.
And it was well enough. Seeing with aether would take some getting use to, but she could see. Her sight would never be the same, but it was more than serviceable, and she could admire the work that Tataru had done for her.
"It's lovely," she said. She tilted her waist side to side as she looked down and examined herself. "My compliments, Tataru. You may consider yourself among the finest tailors I have ever known. And these boots," she said, crouching down to run a hand over the warm leather. "Ah, how oft I have wished for footwear half as nice. But whatsoever moved you to take this matter upon yourself? Surely something of mine could have been recovered from our old home."
Tataru grinned up at her. "And have you going around in that dowdy old outfit of yours, Shtola?"
Y'shtola sniffed disdainfully at her, and she giggled. "Oh, please. Comfortable enough though it was, you and I both know there is more to style than comfort, particularly for someone as pretty as you! But when I first found out there was a chance we would be getting you back and how, well, I thought to myself, first thing she's going to want is a change of clothes. And then one thought lead to another, and, well, I have been making friends in Ishgard and are owed more than a few favors, so..."
"And so you dreamed up this."
"Just so! I knew what Alphinaud would be asking of you, and so thought you might need a coat suited for comfort, style, form and function! A laboratory coat of sorts you could wear in the field seemed to fit the order of the day. You'll find that it is quite solidly aetherically shielded, but at the same time with channels to help you with your conjury. The ribbon work is able to be replaced at a whim, and I've prepared several for you to be able to change out, each with its own enchantments - and a few spare for you to prepare yourself."
"How very thoughtful," murred Y'shtola appreciatively, as ran her fingers along the fine material of the ribbon work in question.
"Well, I know you, Y'shtola, you wouldn't be happy at all if you did not have at least some say in the final result. And I also happen to know you do so love your footwear, so I paid special attention to the boots, and, well, if you're going to be wearing thigh highs, I thought, perhaps some daring in the design to draw the eye," said Tataru, giving her a wink.
Y'shtola smirked back at Tataru. "Indeed? Are you trying to insinuate something there, young Tataru?"
"You know me, just trying to be helpful! Oh, Y'shtola, how I've missed you."
"And I am ever grateful to be back in the realm of the material," said Y'shtola, examining herself once more in the mirror, and making a few more final tweaks and nudges, both to how the outfit sat on her, and to herself as well.
And her words were true. From her time when she had first made the decision to dive in the lifestream until now had been harrowing, but now that she was full and present in body once more, she had to admit, the world seemed more alive to her, and her to herself as well. Rather than succeeding at wearing her down and away, to prepare her for her next life, the adventure in the lifestream had instead given her new appreciation for the life she had.
And the new outfit was as much a statement to that new reality as well. She nodded, satisfied at the image she saw. She was whole. She was hale. She was Y'shtola, as she ever had been, and she felt a resurgence of youthful fire take light in her once more.
The world had not waited for Y'shtola to return, and now she would not wait until it noticed she was back. She now had the opportunity to make up for lost time and more, and she would be seizing it.
She turned to Tataru. "I wonder if the Warrior of Light will notice the daring in your design," she said, giving the Lalafell a wink. Tataru's eyes went wide for a moment, and then she laughed merrily.
"Well, only one way to find out!" said Tataru, and the two left to join their comrades.
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Dowdy
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Secret love is to use imagination and the flesh and blood of the loved one to
create a god that only belongs to you. It will never come, but it will never disappear. Until we
meet again.
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#12: The Drip
“I don’t see much use in prioritizing aesthetics over comfort,” Shieke said, watching as the young Hyuran redhead buzzed around the small studio. She’d just made it to Ul’dah, fresh from Limsa Lominsa, and for her first time in the city, she had decided that a local tailor might be wise, as she leather she wore now was particularly warm in the desert. “What I’d like is something that lets me feel the wind on my skin as much as possible, but isn’t itchy or strangely constructed.”
“That is easy,” she said softly, “But what about when you want to feel beautiful? When you want to walk down a street and turn heads? Your tribal vestments might grab attention, but if you want to be confident that they’re not looking at you because you’re out of place, you’d want to be wearing flattering garments that are fashionable–either universally so, or in line with wherever you are.”
“I turn heads wherever I go already,” Shieke said, and then her lips turned downward into a scowl. “I have had to quash many rude calls.”
The young Midlander stopped and looked up at Shieke, her grass-green eyes assessing. “Well, you look like the sort that could make just about anything look good, so I am not surprised. But if you would allow me, I have a few pieces ready-made that you could try on and see if you would be interested in them. They’re airy and light, and I think they’d look good on you.”
Shieke sighed. “Very well.”
The tailor squeaked excitedly, and then snagged three pieces–two tops and a pair of shorts. These she shoved into Shieke’s arms. She squeaked again when Shieke took off her vest in the middle of the studio and began shimmying out of her skirt.
“No, there’s a changing room–you’re not wearing underwear!? How do you stand the–nevermind, hold on, you’ll want undergarments, let’s start there!”
Shieke was in the studio for two hours that day, learning the differences between garments meant for comfort, garments meant for fashion, and those meant to be worn as little as possible. Shieke did not see much point in those–why wear something with the expectation of immediately taking it off? It seemed… wasteful.
But she had to admit that when the Hyur put her into an ensemble and then stepped back with a sincere gasp–”you’re breathtaking!”–Shieke found the value in wearing clothing for aesthetics. A genuine compliment like that had her chin lifting a fraction and a happy warmth blooming in her chest.
After she’d tried on several different styles of clothing, she gave in to the young woman’s suggestions for the more fashionable pieces, and when she walked out in a new ensemble with two ready-made garments and several more on order, she felt like she’d shed an old, drab skin and emerged more beautiful and twice as confident as she’d been when she walked in.
It wasn’t until years later that she realized the value in clothes one wasn’t meant to wear for long.
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Prompt #12 Dowdy
Akane Urabe rarely got credit where it was due for her sheer, momentous amount of patience she had where raising her children were concerned. Dressed in a light soft brown komon with white pattern diamonds, toes tucked into a pair of old geta, her strawberry ginger hair tucked into a low bun. Deep brown eyes searching.
She had been busy filling her days with helping watch her grandchildren since her husband's passing and they were enough to run her off her feet. The children in varying degrees inherited a strong affinity for feral behaviour, running like the kami possessed their feet. Not unlike that of one of their Aunt's.
Today she had invited everyone over for a lovely birthday brunch for her eldest daughter, Iso accompanied by her husband. The youngest, Cho and her husband had charitably arrived early to help prepare food and decorations. The only one missing was her middle child, Sen.
The grandchildren were happily occupied with each other, their laughter spilling out from the garden.
The eleventh bell was nearing, Akane stood by the front porch watching the road expectantly. A moment passed eleven and she sighed.
"I'm heeeeeeeeeeeeeeere!"
Akane looked down the road again mistakenly for the late arrival of Sen came from above. Akane gasped, shielding her face with her sleeve as the heavy thump of Moonshine's landing greeted her.
"Kweh!" Moonshine was in her adorable yellow raincoat, her flying goggles down, a pack filled to the brim with various herbs, flowers, and other greenery sticking out. A fox head popped out of a sidesaddle bag.
Sen swung a leg over the saddle, dismounting easily. Akane ran a scrutinizing eye over Sen. She was dressed in overalls, sweaty, covered in a fine layer of dust, and a straw hat.
"Mama!" Sen greeted brightly, carrying on in Doman, "Apologies for being tardy, I lost track of time. I went out to get Iso some fresh lavender as a gift and got carried away collecting something for everybody. The kids would feel left out. I found some great intact bird bones that I know that little Sakura will love-"
Moonshine bowed her head for Sen to adjust the goggles off her eyes, getting a few grysahl green leaves as a snack.
Akane waited to get a word in, "You are here and that is all that matters..." She waited a beat for Sen's full attention, "But dressed as you are will not do."
Sen sheepishly laughed, "Didn't want to be late taking the time to clean myself up. Is there... anything clean I can borrow?"
"Clean, yes. I sorted through your old closet and donated all your dowdy westerner clothing."
Sen's expression fell, "Mama-"
Pinching Sen's sleeve to tug her inside, "There is a wash basin ready as well, and stand up straight and don't pout."
Once Sen was inside, Akane shooed Moonshine around the house to the back gardens where the children were playing. There was a resounding cheer of the chocobo's arrival.
Sen stepped out of her boots, padding barefoot across her family home. Akane was right behind her, trying to herd her to her room as quickly as possible but stopped short by popping her head in to say hello to her sisters and squinting at the sight of their husbands as well, relaxing outdoors.
"I thought it was going to be us and the kids - family only."
"It is, what are you talking about?" Akane poked once, poked twice Sen's back to keep walking, but was served a disappointed look from her second eldest.
"What's the matter? Go on, get to it."
"Mama, had I known partners were allowed I'd have brought Jesser."
Akane brushed her off, "He does not count, you're not even married. Come now."
Iso popped her deep auburn head out from the sidedoor leading into the living room, "Did I hear Jesser'to would be joining us? The Dahkra's are such a good family-"
Akane answered in a sharp bite, "No he will not be."
Iso shrank a little, but spoke up, "Mama, that is not fair." The sisters shared a look, Akane saw the apparent gratitude in Sen's face.
Silence stretched between the three of them. Cho calling from the kitchen for some help. Akane looked back to Sen, her daughter no longer faced her mother.
"Enough." Akane decided, a harder push at Sen's back to get her on the move again but it was like trying to shove a stonewall. She held her breath.
Sen was still, breathing evenly after a beat she moved Akane tried to follow behind her to show her the yakuta she picked out for her but the door was slammed in her face. About to rapt on the door, Iso was at Akane's side holding her mother's wrist.
Iso whispered, pleadingly, "Mama, don't."
Showing a similar form of restraint Akane backed away from the door. Calling back to Cho that she was coming to help.
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Model: Moya Dowdy
Photographer: Jfinite justin bonaparte
https://www.flickr.com/photos/jfinite/30423642174/in/album-72157672915818744/
#rmaalbc #model #moya
#rmaalbc#moya#dowdy#jfinite#justin#bonaparte#black#model#photographer#blackblr#modelblr#photographerblr
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY FOR YESTERDAY DOWDY!!!
You’re a fucking legend and played amazing in the world champs even if we didn’t win <33
Can’t wait to watch you next son for the Steelers again 🧡
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Aisling Loftus as Sonya Rostova in War & Peace
#she's too cute#why is she relegated to playing lily james' dowdy best friend#fc: aisling lofus#ch: sonya rostova#source: war and peace 2016#era: regency#mine: gifset#period fc#weloveperioddrama#perioddramagif#perioddramaedit#*
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Without You Around by Go Cozy from the album Glaziao
#music#go cozy#homero salazar andrujovich#maria sage#julian oliver#hays dowdy#tommy sherrod#full glass studios#ryan witt#babe city#babe city records#Bandcamp
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Mo Chridhe IR ‘Afra’ owned & bred by Talamh Rivir Stud, ridden by Reid Dowdy
28.02.24
Snapshot - Stockholm Flat Racing Championship
@bridlepath-sims
#ts4#ts4 simblr#ts4 equestrian#current household#bridlepath#ch: afra#ch: reid dowdy#trs: flat racing#one day i'm gonna not be lazy about reins#but this was not that day
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We all have been young and immature and only after experiencing periods of
upheaval and displacement can we understand how everything that cannot be expected happens.
However, not all tears represent despair and sadness, In the Upstream of the
tears, We are like many others people, moved forward.
People who are optimistic and sincere will definitely hope to reach the other side
of time and reap the happiness they want.
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Scholars have usually treated Katherine [Parr] sympathetically, partly because of Foxe’s revelations about her problems with Henry, but often they have ignored her political ambitions. In early 1543, shortly after the death of her husband, John Neville, Lord Latimer, Katherine was considering marriage to the two single men who were the closest relatives to [Prince] Edward, the king’s heir: Henry [VIII], himself, and [Thomas] Seymour. When Henry died, she quickly wed Seymour and supported his intrigues against his brother.
Wicked Women of Tudor England: Queens, Aristocrats, Commoners, by Retha M Warnicke
#katherine parr#i mean...idk if it rises to the level of 'intrigue' to undermine someone already so thoroughly incompetent#but ah...yes. both her political skill and ambition have been severely underrated#retha warnicke#i mean i get what her biographers mean when they say they're frustrated with the dowdy blue stocking stereotype#and /or nursemaid to henry as per victorian historiography (primarily strickland)#but this is what frustrates me more#also i think it is becoming more commonly known that she was attractive and lively and glamorous; too!#this isn't the 90s anymore#also pls no one brrrrr in my inbox over the title lol#i didn't choose it A) and B) that's not what she means#'wicked' women is a better title#she's referring to their historical reputations
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The lender rep I called to get payoff information called me ma’am Riva while he was helping me
That was a weird way to be addressed
#sometimes I’ll be called Mrs. Riva and that makes me feel like a dowdy teacher that wears floor length denim dresses#personal
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Prompt #12: Dowdy
Destiney sat drinking her cup of tea as she watched her daughter with Esper nearby. Glad that her brother had left Esper here while he was working on something downstairs in the guest room that was setup for family.
But that was where he'd made a mistake. Evelyn was on a kick with trying to make the wolves cute with things like ribbons or flowers. Which meant Esper was not escaping the child's need to decorate a fluffy friend. Esper was often a victim when her brother came by.
She wasn't going to do a thing to stop it either. Though she felt at least a little bad for Esper. Stefan would be the one more upset than the sweet carbuncle. Esper was always extremely tolerant of Evelyn's desires. Besides watching her brother be annoyed but unable to yell at his niece would be entirely worth it. Payment for his lack of visits other than for delivering her medicines to the clinic. Definitely payment for his poor eating habits.
Yes she'd noticed her brother was still far too thin. Not quite unhealthy but clearly burning more calories than he was taking in between the magic he was practicing and the weapon he was working with. But voicing her concerns for his eating habits would only end up with them arguing. Something she didn't want to do around Evelyn. She'd have to reach out to Ely, Aryn, and Sahji. Maybe they could plot a way to get him to eat more.
So let him suffer the less than fashionable ways Evelyn wished to dress up Esper. Smiling over the rim of her cup when she heard her brother's approaching steps. Watching his conflicted face as he wanted to be outraged but knowing he couldn't do that to his niece. Oh the struggle on his expressions was delicious.
#FFxivWrite2023#FFxivWrite#Prompt 12#Prompt Dowdy#About Destiney#About Stefan#Delvanguard Twins#The Shroud Maiden#Nerd Mage#Child of the Wolf and Maiden
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recently got a dress with a princess/puff sleeve. but i have never worn it because i have realized i am not that girl
#i feel like a dowdy girl who rolls around in dirt with the butcher's son who is being forced to go to a cotillion#this is not even because i dont wear dress i have quite a few dresses#it's the puff sleefs#THE SLEEVES
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