Hi my name is Nate,
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We are delighted to announce an outstanding opportunity for talented designers, sketch artists, and 3D modellers to join us in a collaborative effort to design an exquisite plushie collection. This project aims to create a luxury brand design for a limited edition collector's item plushie collection.
Project Overview:
Plushie Collection: We are developing a highly anticipated plushie collection, and we value your creativity and expertise to bring these designs to life.
Luxury Design: The plushie collection will embody a luxurious aesthetic, focusing on top-notch materials, meticulous attention to detail, and exceptional craftsmanship.
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To begin, we would like to work with freelancers on a 1-off project term first, and will decide a long-term contract depending on the results. As well as an agreed upon fixed project cost with the team and the freelancer. With an agreed milestone price and task set upon, as we complete each milestone.
Additionally, we are seeking a freelancer who can leverage their own creativity to assist us in designing the plushies. You will be provided with example pictures to serve as inspiration, and we encourage your unique artistic perspective to shape the final designs.
Any experiences in 3D modelling, realistic AI generated art for the product and prev exp in clothing fashion is highly desired.
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If this is music to your ears, why not give me a text on Discord: DenviousMars#6833. Kindly send me some previous portfolio product designs you have designed and outline your expertise. Thanks! :)

Do you want to purchase an outdoor rug for your home but are still in doubt about doing so? This blog will help you find the answer to that question because purchasing high-quality rugs can help you create a great personality and improve the aesthetics and usability of your outdoor space. Due to their exceptional craftsmanship, vibrant designs, and durability, Indian outdoor rugs in particular have seen a significant increase in popularity recently. Here are the top 10 reasons to buy Indian outdoor rugs if you're thinking about buying some for your garden or outdoor area:
1. Rich Cultural Heritage
India is known for the variety of its culture, which includes its food, clothing, and sweets. Similarly, India is known for its rugs, which have a lengthy and rich cultural heritage. The detailed patterns and designs serve as proof of the weavers' expertise and creative talent. Every rug has a different story that reflects the various cultures and traditions of India. The popularity of Indian carpets and rugs is explained by including Indilats.
2. Exceptional Quality
Indian outdoor rugs are known for their exceptional and premium quality, which is the first thing you notice when you go to buy a rug. Beautiful rugs are made by skilled weavers who are masters of their craft and use methods that have been passed down through many generations. These rugs are not only beautiful to look at, but they are also incredibly sturdy and long-lasting. These hand-knotted rugs are a good option to use outside because the high-quality materials used in their construction ensure that they can withstand a variety of weather conditions.
3. Vibrant and Attractive Designs
One of the most important features of Indian outdoor rugs is their colorful and attractive designs, which feature both geometric patterns and floral patterns. These rugs are easily able to create an eye-catching design that can instantly transform any outdoor space into a work of art. Indian outdoor rugs are true works of art because of their outstanding color combinations and careful detailing.
For more details:- Click Here.

Vent/rant but also minor BLEUGH.
So my mom is...gross. It's probably a bit of an understatement, but it's hard to explain because she isn't exactly a hoarder, but just has zero regard for the environment around her.
Finish eating food? Dust her hands on the sheets and bed type stuff. Refuses to wash hands after eating and uses her phone with sticky fingers and refuses to clean her phone. Not hoarding, but seriously disgusting. Toddler levels of gross! But I can't tell her anything because her go to excuse is, "leave me alone! I'm getting old and I don't need to be told what to do."
She's even started jokingly calling me, "mom" which I don't funny one bit. I actually, genuinely hate it. (Totally off topic, but I got reminded just now)
So here's the deal, I started cleaning my bathroom and taking out EVERYTHING because my mom is talented with decorating and loves it. But she DOES not clean and will sometimes decorate even if the surfaces haven't been cleaned. (Wildest part? Mum was the opposite when I was a baby, when dad left things went downhill. I miss when my mom was a clean person.)
With that in mind, I've made it my job to clean everything and she just comes and decorates. Prior to this, I had completely given up on keeping the house clean for about 3/4 months. I only kept the necessary facilities (toilet, bathtub, sink, living room, and kitchen) clean because I figured it was time that mom learns to live with the consequences of her actions and I was plain BURNT OUT.
But as a person, I deserve a clean place to live. I'm unable to focus and relax when there's clutter everywhere, so now that I have more time on my hands since I'm between work, I decided to start tackling other areas for both cleanliness and aesthetic. Its bad enough she's raging nearly daily, I can't deal with both mess and her attitude.
As you imagine, that went as well as you think: POORLY. The double whammy? I get blamed for not cleaning, and she also trashes when I do clean! She even PRAYS about it? The religious abuse makes me want to scream.
Back to the story, I cleaned almost the entire bathroom but a small section on the countertop was filled with odds and ends (pins, hairclips, sewing needles, etc. That I found on the floor while cleaning other areas of the house). So a small portion of the counter wasn't wiped off because those items were on it. (This is super necessary to add: my mom has a weird rule where I can't remove everything in a single go and wipe it all at the same time. I have to work in sections. I tried to do it my way but she gets seriously unstable. I do it to keep the peace)
So with that said, I felt good because she today she was...okay for the most part. She finished decorating the bathroom! I was so happy that she cleaned off the counter and assorted the odd items.
She got really nasty (figuratively, LOL) a handful of times today and did a few terrible things, but not as Godawful as throwing things like she did earlier this month. Progress, I guess 😬
But I should've KNOWN. How STUPID COULD I BE TO GIVE HER THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT?
So I got up just a little while ago, took a shower, and saw a tub of cleaning paste out. I picked it up to put it in the cabinet and when I opened the cabinet I saw the handsoap from the counter and her hair dye beneath it. I had a bad feeling but didn't question it.
After putting the paste away, I opened the drawer a few minutes after to get my acne medicine.
LO AND BEHOLD: all the pins, scrunchies, rubber bands, hairclips, and a few other odd items were on top of my medicines. This included some dirt(? I honestly to God had no idea what it was?) On top of it.
I started to cry because I was a fool for being happy and giving her the benefit of the doubt. I immediately moved the clean towels on the countertop and cleaned it down. Makeup and other debris lifted from the surface and appalled that she put clean towels on top of the counter with no decency to even clean iI.
It's so small, but it brought back so many bad memories and made me realize just why I gave up on cleaning. My mom would get angry because things weren't done her way and would trash the entire house because she felt like it.
Then she plays victim saying I'm lazy and don't help her in the house and she does everything.
I reorganized some linens and housewares in the closet and because I wrapped the vases in newspaper and put them up in a bin a few months ago, she spitefully threw everything down and consequently ended up breaking a few pieces. On another occasion afterwards, she shattered a floorlamp and broke a huge glass vase, too. Guess who had to clean it? Me. I had to pick every glass shard FOR DAYS.
In the past when she did things like that (break stuff, trash the house, throw things she didn't like all over my bed and the floor) she would say, "if you don't want this to happen then make sure you finish cleaning before I get home (or before she wakes in the morning.) Cleaning must be done out of her sight, while she simultaneously does NOTHING to upkeep the house aside from decorating.
I feel so hurt because I think she did it (today) deliberately to teach me a lesson. When I was a bit younger (up until a few years ago) she would do it with glee. For example, when I was like 20( I'm26now) I had a laundry basket in my room that had comforters and curtains at the bottom and clothes on top.
It was my midterms season, and when I got home my mom cooked, we ate, and afterwards she told me to, "go upstairs and see the suprise."
She had taken all the dirty laundry out the basket and put it back into my drawers and trashed my closet. She used to plan those things often and it was daily. Funny part? I wasn't allowed to use the washing machine and I had to hide to wash stuff at night (and still do) so that's why the basket was half full.
Another example is her putting my sneakers on my pillow because I left my shoes by the doorway. I take off my shoes as soon as I walk in because we get mud due to sprinklers going off.
I'm so angry right now. This brought back so many bad memories and emotions. She couldn't take 3 minutes to put all the little items in a basket and wipe the remaining 8 inches of counterpart? She had to lay the freshly washed, brand new towels on top of the dirty countertop? Did she do it spitefully? Was it unintentional? Was she trying to "teach me a lesson?"
Is she trying to provoke me into a fight? Does she want me to bring it up so she could use ammo?
I've now stopped crying since writing, but I'm simmering in grief. I realized why I gave up on keeping the house clean, now. She does stuff like this all the time. If my mom undertakes any kind of cleaning task, she'll always have a "major" accident (usually breaking something medium sized).
I try to clean at night while she's asleep and while she's not home to avoid her joining me and having a rage induced fit. I can't keep up with the apartment because of restrictive rules and her refusal to assist in cleaning.
I WORK MY ASS OFF CLEANING LIKE A FREAK AND PUTTING ASIDE OTHER PRESSING LIFE MATTERS JUST TO DEAL WITH THIS!! I WANT TO LIVE IN A PEACEFUL, CLEAN HOME? IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?
I'm going to keep cleaning and hopefully tomorrow is better :( I really hope I can get everything organized and (discreetly) do major downsizing to get out of here.

Tl;dr: I cleaned the bathroom, didn't finish a small section of unorganized items and she threw it inside the organized bathroom drawers and under the cabinets. I didn't find out until I went to put away some cleaning products, and started crying because I can't tell her anything because she'll mock me and say, "Well you should've ducking finished everything and that wouldn't have happened."

Since sometimes finding modest clothing in SL is a pain in the ass, I wanted to share my list of favorite stores for finding relatively concealing but still stylish clothes with the sub. No shame on people who prefer to be less covered up but it's so much easier to find clothing that shows a lot of skin than things which show less. Hoping that this helps someone else in their search!
fd fashionably dead
Casual, boho/country/grunge clothing with longer skirts and higher neckline items. Colors trend towards olives, browns, and yellows with calico or tiny floral patterns.
Bodies: Maitreya & Petite, Legacy & Perky, Ebody Reborn, Hourglass, Kupra
ISON
Tailored high fashion pieces with intricate texture detailing. Many of the lower cut tops look nice with BOM undershirts. All new items come on color packs that run from muted to jewel tones.
Bodies: Maitreya & Petite, Legacy & Perky, Ebody Reborn, some older Hourglass and Freya items
Tres Blah
Boho and retro-inspired pieces with lots of cute patterns. Tons of sweaters, jackets, and maxi dresses, and their graphic tees are some of the best in SL. Wide color palette dominated by bold patterns.
Bodies: Maitreya & Petite, Legacy & Perky, Ebody Reborn, Kupra, Freya, some older standard sized items
erratic
Fresh, modern fashion in a range of styles, from streetwear to formalwear. Check out their jackets, jeans, and hoodies, and their pencil skit suit. Colors include very bright yellows, pinks, and aquas, with some nice floral patterns.
Bodies: Maitreya & Petite, a few Legacy & Perky pieces
Thalia Heckroth
Primarily formal and semi-formal clothing with lots of knee-length and longer dresses and long-sleeve shirts. Color palette runs towards muted primaries, neutrals, and bright reds, with very few patterns.
Bodies: Maitreya, Ebody Reborn, Legacy & Perky, Persephone Love Momma
Just BECAUSE
Huge selection of casual, cozy items, including a boatload of sweaters. Fairly large store that includes a few fantasy pieces and a room of gowns. Colors run towards jewel tones with very few patterns outside of lace.
Bodies: Maitreya, Legacy & Perky, Kupra, Ebody Reborn, Physique, Hourglass, Belleza Gen X, Freya, Isis, Venus
Junbug
Popular formalwear shop with shiny, satiny dresses. Many long sleeved, high necked options in both modern and fantasy aesthetics. Colors trend towards jewel tones and very light pastels.
Bodies: Maitreya, a few Legacy pieces
The Secret Store Soft, girly, and colorful casualwear with bold prints. Lots of retro styling and preppy pieces. Some of the best original prints around. Colors are widely varied but highly saturated.
Bodies: Maitreya, V-Tech, Freya, Hourglass, bulge options, some older standard sized pieces
Hime Dream
Kawaii anime clothing with lolita-inspired details. The skirts are very short but their necklines are high and there are lots of long sleeve pieces. They sell everything in the same basic color set which includes bright primaries and soft pastels.
Bodies: Maitreya & Petite, Legacy & Perky, Ebody Reborn
Neve
Flowy, feminine sports and casualwear. Tons of jackets and layered pieces. Bottoms tend to be short but tops are often modest. Colors are mostly subdued earth tones and pastels but all items come with four options. Some patterns, mostly stripes and plaid.
Bodies: Maitreya & Petite, Legacy & Perky, some Ebody Reborn, Freya, Isis, Hourglass,
Valentina E.
Retro and historic formalwear with a highly tailored aesthetic. Excellect selection of well-rigged knee-length dresses. Color selections are typically narrow and exclusively jewel tones.
Bodies: Maitreya & Petite, Legacy, Ebody Reborn
Wazzer Works
Highly practical clothing for men and women. Medical, police, and military uniforms alongside normal outdoorsy items like jackets. Good variety of colors from earth tones to neons, no patterns.
Bodies: Maitreya, Legacy, Ebody Reborn, Signature Alice
GAWK!
Preppy basics with a soft aesthetic. Small selection with a few options for BOM leggings and stockings. Items come in muted rainbow tones with some nice patterns.
Bodies: Maitreya & Petite, Legacy & Perky, Ebody Reborn
Vannies
Huge selection of stockings, leggings, and socks to layer under your outfits. Plenty of unusual colors of stockings and sets with different levels of opacity. Some include built-in panties or modesty guards.
Bodies: Applier HUDs for Maitreya, Legacy, Belleza, Slink, and Omega, and BOM layers

so i loooove fashion like so much. i have so many favourite designers and aesthetics etc and I love all of them but I'm not sure how to pick an outfit. not only do I not have the money for the clothes I want I'm not sure how to style the clothes I have. so how fo I find my style? and how do I style clothes for my body type? how do I find clothes for my colour scheme?

5/22/23 – 5/28/23
Only 4 days left in the Month!
More family surprises, more money spent! I have definitely acknowledged that dining out is my largest reducable expense, but I am really starting to see that Family expenses are my second. Identifying it is the key to changing it! It is my realization as I was writing this post, so I haven't analyzed it yet, so one goal for the end of the month is to see how much I have spent on Family, and how much I think I could have done cheaper. My sister has been depressed and symptomic lately, so I went to pick her up after helping other family set up an event Friday. And while taking care of her and trying to cheer her up, I bought us 3-d movie tickets, bought her some new thrifted dresses, and more money on food for 3 people. I also bought mi madre's birthday gift a little early.
I lost one earring, then another, just by surprise. I tried to put in some old earrings I had that were cheapy, but it literally made my ears hurt so bad. So I ended up buying more hypoallergenic earrings unplanned. While I am sad at the unplanned expense, I am excited to be reminded of how much I used to love jewelry. Its really been years since I have focused on that, and I still own quite a bit. So this week I have been dressing up fully. Clothes, makeup, and jewelry, and it feels like a step to feeling like myself pre-depression era. And best of all, its a free happiness, because I own it. Outside of the earrings, its all just my unused collection. I even enjoyed going through it and donating a lot, and throwing out the broken items. Yay for decluttering. I got all of my jewelry down to a smaller jewelry box, and can easily find it, and see the different aesthetics.
I think that the dresses I got for the cruise will be the same ones I take to DC and if I do end up going to New York, for that as well. So I shouldn't need any more clothes shopping for trips :D
Successes:

• Maintained Weekly Budget
• Completed Cruise shopping so I WILL NOT buy any more for about 1.5 months. Mostly thrifted :)
• Cleaned out jewelry box and donated/threw away a lot
• Ate out only 1 time a week for 3 weeks in a row!

Purchases:

• Movies: $13.73
• Dining Out: $34.41
• Cruise Clothes + Barbie Movie Clothes: $144.65
• Groceries: $154.04
• Family: $75.62
• Bills: $224.31

Financials:

• Income: $2933.74
• Spent: $2404.19
• Money left over to pay down debt: $529.55

Next Week:

• I didn't get the cost of my tests yet, and I have to schedule some more tests, so we'll see how expensive it gets
• Bills: campsite for national park trip, possibly gas, medical costs when posted,

Thoughts:

• try not to buy any groceries, just use freezer foods
• I am actually excited to do a financial analysis for the midpoint of the year. I have spent money where I shouldn't have, but I have stayed within my income every single month.
• I wish everyone else success on their journeys :)

EDIT: I’m still looking 😭 tho I’ve gotten plenty of messages most were either women selling onlyfans people not reading the post asking me to send a pic and tell them about myself when it’s clearly below lol or oddly GUYS asking for a bromance which is….weird. My soulmate, where art thou ? I took my time to write this so please read fully. Thank you ❤️
Am I the only one who finds Dating in your 30’s so….confusing? I mean you’re in this awkwardly sweet spot of being too old or too young for people. I try to date somebody in their late 20’s (27+) I’m too old, try to date somebody my age (30+) and I’m too young. Im I’m living in a personal dating hell lol. SO here I am on Reddit, dragging myself from shores of the digital cesspools we call dating apps. I’m putting a serious effort in finding a warm, loving, loyal, genuine respectful person to call my life partner and enjoy life together. As Ozzy Osborne says “I’m shooting my shot in the dark” (great song btw)
I am a 33 year old professional from the east coast currently living in Southern California for the past 4 years and been single for 5 years sadly. I have an amazing career as a clothing designer and graphic artist and a clothing brand owner all of which is my dream jobs and occupations. I got to meet celebrities and work with them on numerous projects which is always exciting. My social life here is kinda dull since moving to California. I only get to interact with people if it’s networking in the industry, unfortunately I’m a shy guy. But when I open up to being comfortable I’m a total charismatic gem. I’m a very loyal, chivalrous, respectful, loving, genuine, thoughtful, monogamous, spontaneous, funny, patient, open minded, adventurous, intellectual. I’m also Very goal driven, motivating, and a supportive man always wanting the best for you and your life. I Can be clingy but not in a stalker smothering way, more so the type of guy who craves giving my undivided affection and attention to who I’m with 110%. I want the person I’m with feel loved and thought about 24/7. Willing to relocate wherever for the right one if it gets to that point, Just to be with you ❤️.
Physically…I look like a potato 😂 jk I’m 6ft tall 180 lbs (but definitely in shape) Mixed race of black and Chinese, nice light brown /caramel skin, long braided auburn colored hair ( alien hair honestly because it naturally changes colors with the temperature outside) 6 tattoos 2 nose piercings, brown eyes and I was always told I have nice eyes and godly eyelashes 🫥 which idk how to take but yea it’s a thing i guess lol. Heres pics of me :) https://imgur.com/a/9I9JwxJ
I dress very nicely from what I was always told. Most of the time I have a punk & streetwear meshed aesthetic.
My day to day bullshit aka hobbies and interest: •I’m a nostalgia whore •Making art is my ❤️ •Designing clothes for my brand •Go to the beach •Workout 5-6 days a week •Reading •Practice choreography and dance (I used to be in a competitive dance battle group Let me teach you some moves 💃🕺) •learning about space or nature •cooking (yes I can out cook you, don’t try it 😂) •infatuated with nature and the outdoors •learning and teaching new things •listening to good music •Gaming and streaming on twitch during the weekends and some weeknights after work. •old horror movies, sci fi and old kung fu flicks but I like a lot of movies. •I read manga and watch anime BUT let me put a disclaimer…THIS doesn’t mean I want to talk about this stuff all day everyday lol. Yes let’s watch something together or discuss a theory or two, but don’t wake up with it on your mind first thing in the day. It’s a turnoff tbh.
What I’m looking for in you? Yes…we all have a preference that’s totally normal. But some people are unreasonably picky lol. So first off ill say that I don’t care what religion or race you are or If you want kids or have one already. Those things don’t determine who will love me and vice versa. So come and talk to me I won’t reject you. However I do need a woman that’s:
•Goal driven and goal oriented. •Monogamous •Knows what she wants in life and in a man •Funny and FUN, smart, respectful, not afraid to commit (like me), loving, imperfect, genuine, seriously loyal, feminine, supportive, educated, non political, outgoing, loves to travel/explore. •looking for a serious long term relationship •Cultured •Physically active and healthy (not saying you need to be a model or even close but at least be active or in shape like I am. I used to be obese years ago and I don’t plan on going back and I see WAYYY too many woman demanding a fit male but don’t even workout themselves.) •Drug free and std free (I’m 420 and psychedelic friendly) •26+ in age living in the U.S, definitely a plus if you live in California.
So hopefully you made it this far, hopefully I caught somebodies eye, hopefully the love of my life is reading this…please send an introduction of yourself with a SFW selfie. Open a long distance to close distance relationship thing if you’re within the U.S. Thank you for reading this. There’s so much more about me for you to learn, in a good way lol.
TLDR: I need a boothang to make my queen ❤️😊

Am I the only one who finds Dating in your 30’s so….confusing? I mean you’re in this awkwardly sweet spot of being too old or too young for people. I try to date somebody in their late 20’s (27+) I’m too old, try to date somebody my age (30+) and I’m too young. Im I’m living in a personal dating hell lol. SO here I am on Reddit, dragging myself from shores of the digital cesspools we call dating apps. I’m putting a serious effort in finding a warm, loving, loyal, genuine respectful person to call my life partner and enjoy life together. As Ozzy Osborne says “I’m shooting my shot in the dark” (great song btw)
I am a 33 year old professional from the east coast currently living in Southern California for the past 4 years and been single for 5 years sadly. I have an amazing career as a clothing designer and graphic artist and a clothing brand owner all of which is my dream jobs and occupations. I got to meet celebrities and work with them on numerous projects which is always exciting. My social life here is kinda dull since moving to California. I only get to interact with people if it’s networking in the industry, unfortunately I’m a shy guy. But when I open up to being comfortable I’m a total charismatic gem. I’m a very loyal, chivalrous, respectful, loving, genuine, thoughtful, monogamous, spontaneous, funny, patient, open minded, adventurous, intellectual. I’m also Very goal driven, motivating, and a supportive man always wanting the best for you and your life. I Can be clingy but not in a stalker smothering way, more so the type of guy who craves giving my undivided affection and attention to who I’m with 110%. I want the person I’m with feel loved and thought about 24/7. Willing to relocate wherever for the right one if it gets to that point, Just to be with you ❤️.
Physically…I look like a potato 😂 jk I’m 6ft tall 180 lbs (but definitely in shape) Mixed race of black and Chinese, nice light brown /caramel skin, long braided auburn colored hair ( alien hair honestly because it naturally changes colors with the temperature outside) 6 tattoos 2 nose piercings, brown eyes and I was always told I have nice eyes and godly eyelashes 🫥 which idk how to take but yea it’s a thing i guess lol. Heres pics of me :) https://imgur.com/a/9I9JwxJ
I dress very nicely from what I was always told. Most of the time I have a punk & streetwear meshed aesthetic.
My day to day bullshit aka hobbies and interest: •I’m a nostalgia whore •Making art is my ❤️ •Designing clothes for my brand •Go to the beach •Workout 5-6 days a week •Reading •Practice choreography and dance (I used to be in a competitive dance battle group Let me teach you some moves 💃🕺) •learning about space or nature •cooking (yes I can out cook you, don’t try it 😂) •infatuated with nature and the outdoors •learning and teaching new things •listening to good music •Gaming and streaming on twitch during the weekends and some weeknights after work. •old horror movies, sci fi and old kung fu flicks but I like a lot of movies. •I read manga and watch anime BUT let me put a disclaimer…THIS doesn’t mean I want to talk about this stuff all day everyday lol. Yes let’s watch something together or discuss a theory or two, but don’t wake up with it on your mind first thing in the day. It’s a turnoff tbh.
What I’m looking for in you? Yes…we all have a preference that’s totally normal. But some people are unreasonably picky lol. So first off ill say that I don’t care what religion or race you are or If you want kids or have one already. Those things don’t determine who will love me and vice versa. So come and talk to me I won’t reject you. However I do need a woman that’s:
•Goal driven and goal oriented. •Monogamous •Knows what she wants in life and in a man •Funny and FUN, smart, respectful, not afraid to commit (like me), loving, imperfect, genuine, seriously loyal, feminine, supportive, educated, non political, outgoing, loves to travel/explore. •looking for a serious long term relationship •Cultured •Physically active and healthy (not saying you need to be a model or even close but at least be active or in shape like I am. I used to be obese years ago and I don’t plan on going back and I see WAYYY too many woman demanding a fit male but don’t even workout themselves.) •Drug free and std free (I’m 420 and psychedelic friendly) •26+ in age living in the U.S, definitely a plus if you live in California.
So hopefully you made it this far, hopefully I caught somebodies eye, hopefully the love of my life is reading this…please send an introduction of yourself with a SFW selfie. Open a long distance to close distance relationship thing if you’re within the U.S. Thank you for reading this. There’s so much more about me for you to learn, in a good way lol.
TLDR: I need a boothang to make my queen ❤️😊

Am I the only one who finds Dating in your 30’s so….confusing? I mean you’re in this awkwardly sweet spot of being too old or too young for people. I try to date somebody in their late 20’s (27+) I’m too old, try to date somebody my age (30+) and I’m too young. Im I’m living in a personal dating hell lol. SO here I am on Reddit, dragging myself from shores of the digital cesspools we call dating apps. I’m putting a serious effort in finding a warm, loving, loyal, genuine respectful person to call my life partner and enjoy life together. As Ozzy Osborne says “I’m shooting my shot in the dark” (great song btw)
I am a 33 year old professional from the east coast currently living in Southern California for the past 4 years and been single for 5 years sadly. I have an amazing career as a clothing designer and graphic artist and a clothing brand owner all of which is my dream jobs and occupations. I got to meet celebrities and work with them on numerous projects which is always exciting. My social life here is kinda dull since moving to California. I only get to interact with people if it’s networking in the industry, unfortunately I’m a shy guy. But when I open up to being comfortable I’m a total charismatic gem. I’m a very loyal, chivalrous, respectful, loving, genuine, thoughtful, monogamous, spontaneous, funny, patient, open minded, adventurous, intellectual. I’m also Very goal driven, motivating, and a supportive man always wanting the best for you and your life. I Can be clingy but not in a stalker smothering way, more so the type of guy who craves giving my undivided affection and attention to who I’m with 110%. I want the person I’m with feel loved and thought about 24/7. Willing to relocate wherever for the right one if it gets to that point, Just to be with you ❤️.
Physically…I look like a potato 😂 jk I’m 6ft tall 180 lbs (but definitely in shape) Mixed race of black and Chinese, nice light brown /caramel skin, long braided auburn colored hair ( alien hair honestly because it naturally changes colors with the temperature outside) 6 tattoos 2 nose piercings, brown eyes and I was always told I have nice eyes and godly eyelashes 🫥 which idk how to take but yea it’s a thing i guess lol. Heres pics of me :) https://imgur.com/a/9I9JwxJ
I dress very nicely from what I was always told. Most of the time I have a punk & streetwear meshed aesthetic.
My day to day bullshit aka hobbies and interest: •I’m a nostalgia whore •Making art is my ❤️ •Designing clothes for my brand •Go to the beach •Workout 5-6 days a week •Reading •Practice choreography and dance (I used to be in a competitive dance battle group Let me teach you some moves 💃🕺) •learning about space or nature •cooking (yes I can out cook you, don’t try it 😂) •infatuated with nature and the outdoors •learning and teaching new things •listening to good music •Gaming and streaming on twitch during the weekends and some weeknights after work. •old horror movies, sci fi and old kung fu flicks but I like a lot of movies. •I read manga and watch anime BUT let me put a disclaimer…THIS doesn’t mean I want to talk about this stuff all day everyday lol. Yes let’s watch something together or discuss a theory or two, but don’t wake up with it on your mind first thing in the day. It’s a turnoff tbh.
What I’m looking for in you? Yes…we all have a preference that’s totally normal. But some people are unreasonably picky lol. So first off ill say that I don’t care what religion or race you are or If you want kids or have one already. Those things don’t determine who will love me and vice versa. So come and talk to me I won’t reject you. However I do need a woman that’s:
•Goal driven and goal oriented. •Monogamous •Knows what she wants in life and in a man •Funny and FUN, smart, respectful, not afraid to commit (like me), loving, imperfect, genuine, seriously loyal, feminine, supportive, educated, non political, outgoing, loves to travel/explore. •looking for a serious long term relationship •Cultured •Physically active and healthy (not saying you need to be a model or even close but at least be active or in shape like I am. I used to be obese years ago and I don’t plan on going back and I see WAYYY too many woman demanding a fit male but don’t even workout themselves.) •Drug free and std free (I’m 420 and psychedelic friendly) •26+ in age living in the U.S, definitely a plus if you live in California.
So hopefully you made it this far, hopefully I caught somebodies eye, hopefully the love of my life is reading this…please send an introduction of yourself with a SFW selfie. Open a long distance to close distance relationship thing if you’re within the U.S. Thank you for reading this. There’s so much more about me for you to learn, in a good way lol.
TLDR: I need a boothang to make my queen ❤️😊

Are there any outfits, armors or clothing sets that resemble the Sierra Madre Armor or the Space Suit, both from New Vegas? I figured out if i slightly change up my current weapons, i can pretty much make one of my New Vegas characters, but i only want to do that if i can get the aesthetic.

Readers Beware.
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I...do not like the monstrous rigging direction that has been happening for our dear Kriegsmariners. Like bro, Regensburg isn't even a shipgirl, my guy. She's a MECHA DRAGON...THING. Like I'd be all for it if this were a sci-fi fantasy type of thing where Mecha Dragons are a totally normal or expected thing, but this is Azur Lane. This game is supposed to be about Boat Waifus. That ain't no Boat Waifu! That is literally a Dragon!
It feels like AL is straying so far from its initial concept that there is now a disconnect in the setting or something.
I always got that the Kriegsmarine's aesthetic was partially inspired by the monstrous nature of the Nazi Regime. A faction so unapologetically evil, that the people that made it couldn't even be considered human anymore. It takes a special kind of monster to do what the Nazis did. The terrible thing is, the Soviets were arguably worse.
Hear me out. With the Konigsberg sisters, we saw a very tame, smooth, and uniform look to them. And for the most part, the various factions have a "Uniform" or "theme." Take the French for example. There aesthetic is that of a Papal state, (despite the French Republic being fairly secular) with some very extravagate outfits. Likely pulling from the styles of the old French Nobility. There are also knights among them, varying from lightly to heavily armored. The British have their Nobility-like looks and their maids. Us Americans on the other hand have a more uniform look. With characters from the same class sharing one or more physical traits or clothes. Such as the Yorktown Coats and the Essex Uniforms.
The theme that I saw with the Germans was the transition from fairly typical Empire to Tyrannical Nightmare Regime. With each new ship that came out, their riggings become more and more sharklike and monster like. To me, this denoted how the Germany that built Konigsberg and the Germany that built Bismarck are two separate entities. And it has continued to escalate.
Then of course they broke the mold when they brought in the old High Seas Fleet and just gave them MonsteDragon rigging. So, I guess that theme got trashed. But I think they have gone way to far now. That is not a Shipgirl, that is a Mecha Dragon girl.
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Hey mods, did I tag this right?

Part 1: https://www.reddit.com/ReddXReads/comments/13lfqkw/vulturebeard_the_legbeard_that_ruined_roomies_fo
Hi everyone, bunny here. I’m having Ezekial post this for me because while I lurk on reddit, I’m on too many online communities and burn out quickly on all of them. I’m just here to tell this incredibly long tale. Pull up a chair, grab a snack, get comfy. This is a long ride.
The Cast List
Bunny (author): 33, female, a year or so out of a divorce that turned toxic and abusive and ultimately helped me realize I was gay. Recovering lifelong doormat slowly building a spine. Neuro spicy gym rat with major depressive disorder, general anxiety disorder, and most recently diagnosed with ADHD. Unfortunately very familiar with surviving trauma.
Z (poster): My partner. 31, nonbinary (they/them), also neuro spicy with depression, anxiety, OCD, BPD, autism, and also familiar with lifelong trauma.
One Liner Beard (OLB): 33, male, neuro spicy with ADHD and depression. He also suspects autism but isn’t pursuing a diagnosis. His nickname here comes from the fact that in messenger, he usually has one-word replies like “oof” or “mmm” as an acknowledgement he had seen the message but has nothing further to contribute.
VultureBeard (Vulture): 30, female, neuro spicy and disabled with multiple conditions. She has Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, POTs (postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome), autism, depression, anxiety, chronic migraines, but also possibly a list of things that may or may not be real – that will all be explained. The star of this unfortunate circus. Her name will be explained in this part.
Kid: 3. Female. OLB and Vulture’s child. Likely neuro spicy like we all are, but she’s also only 3 years old. Slightly speech delayed and not potty trained yet.
Minor mentions:
Shit ass ex-husband (SA): name is self-explanatory. 32, male. Divorce was amicable to keep the peace. I immediately went no contact with him after.
J2: Friend of OLBs.
You ready? Deep breath. Now let’s dive into this mess.
​
Chapter Two: VultureBeard, or the Walking Diagnosis
With the backstory of how we wound up with a neckbeard, a legbeard, and their kid out of the way, I’ll start on VultureBeard properly now.
J2 was the one who introduced her to OLB. He ran into her at a local convention, and they talked and spent the day together. He ended up sleeping over at her house, on her couch, since she lived a few minutes away from the convention center, and he introduced her to his D&D group that OLB was a DM for. He said that at first, he wanted to smash just based on looks (before she stopped caring for herself, before the pregnancy), until she opened her mouth.
Oh boy.
I met her on Halloween 2018 or 2019 (trauma made my memory absolute garbage, ain’t it fun?), when OLB wanted to run a one-shot Curse of Strahd campaign for our D&D group. J2’s group was called Party A, we were Party B. Both of our campaigns existed in the same universe that OLB created. It was a fun one shot. I liked her. We integrated her into our D&D campaign as a side character who joined our party.
With her autism, she talks a lot, and can have a conversation with anyone, but she does naturally miss a lot of social cues. She says it’s okay to be direct with her and say things like, “I can’t talk right now, I’m busy.” But in the wild, she just enjoys people. That in itself isn’t a bad thing.
When we met, she was a Mormon with long brown hair, glasses, and modest clothes with long ankle-length jean skirts. I don’t know if that was a lifelong practice or just the people she had associated with. She didn’t curse at all, and still substitutes “fudge” for my favorite and most often-used curse word. Over time, she dropped religion, but she only curses in text, and very rarely at that, like when she’s pushed to her mental limit. She still dresses in a lot of the modest clothes from before, but it’s mostly because she doesn’t go clothes shopping a lot. I have passed down some clothes I have shrunk out of to her.
Her fashion sense is a bit of Walmart-meets-Goodwill. The tired mom “this is clean, so I’ll wear it” kind of aesthetic. She’s big on thrifting, but so am I. Most of my wardrobe is thrifted or passed on from a few gym friends these days, so it’s not like I’m poking fun at secondhand clothes. It’s just that there’s a lack of style or effort on her part, like she just puts clothes on and sometimes remembers to brush her hair out. I think there’s a part of her that doesn’t recognize she’s plus sized after pregnancy because she once bought clothes that are size medium, and they didn’t fit. She fit my old 2X leggings. I traded her leggings once, my bigger size for her smaller size.
She and OLB don’t fold laundry or put it away, so she will have laundry stuffed in their hamper that they keep in our shoe closet next to the laundry room, or boxes on her desk, or on her desk chair. They kind of live out of that clothes pile. If she needs to dress in something nice, it likely is wrinkly because it was in an unfolded pile.
The first run-in with realizing that something was a little “off” with her was when she tried cooking for us. We had other friends over to play D&D and Magic with us, and she wanted to cook some kind of chicken and noodle dish. With her POTs (post orthostatic tachycardia syndrome), she’s usually sodium deficient so she adds way too much salt to whatever she’s eating. Not being used to cooking for others, she served us completely inedible chicken that was too salty.
One of my former friends was there for that debacle. What she also noticed was that Kid seemed to be behind some childhood markers. At 2, Kid was still using a bottle and didn’t seem to talk much. She was worried that Kid would keep falling behind. It was a red flag that got tucked away. At the time, I was still thinking of Vulture as a burned-out first-time neuro spicy mom. That’s a lot for a disabled woman to handle. As a disabled person myself, I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. I gave her too much benefit of the doubt for way too long.
Vulture as a person focuses very much on herself. Because of the body aches and pains that come with both Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and POTs, yes, I understand that her body regularly fights itself. But why is it that every time her body expressed pain, she had to do a loud, “AH, OW” or other pain noises as loud as she could? Or she will complain about whatever is giving her trouble. Some days she will be using her computer quietly, then when I come out of my bedroom, she starts to complain about her daily aches and pains. This happens pretty much every day, for different reasons. Her sneezes are likewise as loud, to where I can hear her across the house, through a closed door and over the show Z and I are watching.
Most awkward is Vulture’s bathroom habits. In Apartment #2, I guess Vulture got used to using the bathroom with the door cracked because they lived in a house without roommates, and she needed to keep an ear on Kid. Even now in a shared space, she keeps the door cracked, sometimes with the light off so I don’t think anyone is in the bathroom because it’s more migraine friendly.
Until I hear the grunting.
THE GRUNTING.
THE POOP GRUNTING.
I have heard it through my closed bedroom door, because her bathroom is right next to my bedroom. Usually, it’s when my bedroom is quieter, like when Z and I are off to sleep. But I hear her grunting as she’s using the bathroom, either because the door is open, or she is just that loud. I’m terrified to know which one it is.
Her hygiene is questionable at best. I know personally that Depression™ makes hygiene and self-care extremely difficult. I myself do the best I can, especially while being constantly sweaty at the gym and a Big Sad (depression) fighter. So, I get mental illness and hygiene. With Vulture and her long hair, she would leave it in a bun for days until it matted. She asked for my help with detangling it and it took me around two hours to safely work the mats and tangles out. When she cut it in a homemade attempt to do the popular wolf cut on Tik Tok, it was much more manageable. When it’s shorter, it has tight curls. She constantly has a natural body odor smell to her. I think with her sensitive skin, she has to wear a specific unscented deodorant, but I don’t think she applies it unless she’s leaving the house. The sink in her and OLB’s bathroom is used as mostly a storage space with things piled on top of it, so I don’t think it’s used for much. The bathtub needs a deep scrubbing, and she gives Kid a bath more than she herself showers.
Having heard the poop grunting, I’m afraid to look at their toilet.
In general, Vulture isn’t active, but to say that she’s sedentary is a vast understatement. The average sedentary person looks like an Olympic athlete next to her. She occupies two spots in the house: Her bed, or the couch in the living room. For most of the day. She will just have her laptop either on the table next to her or in her lap, and that’s where she spends most of the day, gaming.
With me being a gym rat, I am incredibly proud of how I went from a couch potato to a weightlifter. When I think about what would happen if I suddenly dropped to her levels of activity, I know my body would fall apart. I often wonder if her lying in bed or on the couch contributes to more of her body pains because her muscles are deteriorating from disuse. I mean what do I know, I’m not a doctor. That body pain cycles to her being even more inactive because she hurts. It’s a big cycle of negativity.
When the weather changes drastically, she will be hit with migraines or allergy attacks, to where she has to lay down all day as well. She takes OTC pain medicine frequently, as well as allergy meds. One of her desk cabinets is a well-stocked mini pharmacy of OTC medication and some prescription medication she has collected over time that expired over a year ago. When I’m hit with a rare migraine, I know she will have something in stock for it.
Her doctor says she needs to eat more frequently because she’s always shaky. She will hold up her hand to show me how much it’s shaking, and it always looks as though she’s making it shake from the wrist, instead of it being an actual hand movement. She always tells me, “Look at this,” and holds up her shaking hand, like she’s trying to show me how bad she’s doing, but it’s for different reasons every time. She didn’t eat, she’s too tired, she has a migraine, she has sinus pain – everything gives her shaky hands, which I joked about once.
If she has a new symptom, she goes to Doctor Google to look up what’s wrong with her, and then talk in our house chat on discord that she thinks she might have “so and so” wrong with her because the symptoms match. Or she will post screenshots of whatever her symptoms are. As far as I know in the time living with her, she’s never had close medical calls or anything that needed further treatment, except for a heart study where she wore a device to monitor her heart rate. Doctor Google gave her all sorts of things she could have, though.
Within the time I started writing this saga, I had this encounter with her in the house group chat on discord that she, OLB, and I are in, about how she thinks she’s allergic to mosquito bites because the bites swelled up and got inflamed:
Vulture: Just figured out something I’m most likely allergic to: mosquito’s saliva reaction is increased inflammation around the bite site and the condition is skeeter syndrome.
Me: You should get that confirmed by a doctor. It’s mosquito season.
(it sounds like she copy/pasted that bit about mosquito’s saliva from Google)
Mind you, my former in-laws thought I was allergic to mosquito bites because the same thing happened to me. My mosquito bites swelled up beyond what they should look like, and mosquitos have a good nose at finding me in particular compared to other people. I tried to empathize with her, even though it just seemed like she wanted to identify with a syndrome she found on the internet.
She said that she had the same symptoms her friend’s dad had for GERD because her acid reflux was acting up. The GERD saga is a fun one as well, which I’ll fully share later.
Funny enough, if I also have something similar to what her current issue is, she doesn’t play Oppression Olympics and say hers is worse. I’ve been dealing with vertigo on and off for the past month and I don’t have the ability to see a doctor for it at the moment. So, when she says that she’s dizzy or the room is spinning, I express empathy or at least a little “oh, same here,” because I have to carefully move my body in ways that don’t make the room spin. It might be her autism, it might be because she doesn’t care, but she never expresses empathy my way. She just moves on.
I’ve told her multiple times she needs to see a doctor to check for each new symptom she has, but somehow there’s an excuse. The latest I’ve heard is, “I will once my phone is turned back on. It hasn’t been paid in a while.” Valid yes, but then please get off Google. Because she’s on government assistance and doesn’t have a car and doesn’t know how to drive, she’s ferried to her appointments by a medical bus that stops at the house. They do need to be able to call her. Just please get off Google in the meantime! I’ve even told her that Doctor Google and WebMD will say everything is cancer or fatal and it’s not good for you, and she just kind of brushed it off.
One of my friends calls her the Professional Victim. Z is convinced she has Factitious Disorder (formerly called Munchausen’s). She loves to hide behind her illnesses as to why she can’t get out of bed or can’t do chores. If you were to listen to her every day, you’d think she was falling apart at the seams because it was always something. Migraine, body pain, allergies, sinus problems or sinus infections, stomach problems, dizziness, shakiness. Repeat. Forever.
She will ask me if her forehead feels hot, and when I can’t tell, she checks with a thermometer. She says, “My natural body temperature is low so 99 degrees is a fever to me.”
This is also where I gave her a lot of benefit of the doubt at the beginning, because EDS and POTs will affect the entire body in different ways. One of my friends, in her casual dark humor, will have conversations with me about how she’s just not going to be able to walk properly that day, because her ankle joint slid out of place, but she still finished her work shift. I talk to my friend regularly about her struggles with her body, but somehow it doesn’t have the same self-pity that Vulture’s does. Every disability presents differently between people. As rare as EDS and POTs is, it’s pretty common in online communities because it’s where people tend to flock to. In my time in varying disabled online communities, I’ve never seen someone who complains or fishes for attention as much as Vulture does.
If she’s having a relatively good day, she will either be gaming, or maybe she will get to one of the chores that OLB tries to get her to do during the day, like doing the dishes or cleaning Kid’s room. When OLB had prescription Adderall (before the shortage made him switch to a different ADHD med), she took one of his pills and was zooming around actually being productive. She has symptoms of ADHD but doesn’t have a formal diagnosis, so OLB thought it might help her. It seemed to.
If she has a bad day, which is most of her days, she stays rooted on the couch or moves between her couch and her bed, moving her laptop with her. She spends all day building in Minecraft, completing her Pokedex, or playing other games.
Sometimes when I come out of my room to cook, she says something along the lines of, “I planned on cleaning today,” followed by vague hand gestures of how she’s feeling. I never asked her about her daily plans, but she needed to tell me. Is it self-awareness or guilt?
If she’s doing a load of dishes, she will loudly proclaim that she’s dizzy and shaky and in pain and have to go sit down after 10 minutes of that. I don’t know if she actually has the body strength to stay upright for longer than ten minutes at a time, and I don’t know if that’s her actual chronic illnesses, or the fact that she doesn’t do anything at all.
I’ve given her the same advice I use myself for low spoon (low energy) days when I need to get things done. I’ve told her it’s okay to take ten-minute breaks and then get started again. Or an hour break, if her body is giving her trouble. I’ve told her it’s okay to clean the house while sitting on the ground or in a chair, if that’s easier on her body. In managing my broken mental health, I’ve taught myself all sorts of life hacks, or as I call them, “brain hacks,” to work around how gross depression makes me feel. And I’ve told her that if it’s a really bad day, the dishes aren’t going anywhere and can wait until tomorrow.
That’s meant to be compassionate, not taken in the “if you give an inch, they’ll take a mile” sort of way, but it must be interpreted as permission to not do The Thing. It just won’t get done if she feels she has permission to skip over it.
If she does anything, she will want metaphorical ass pats for her good work. OLB jokes that it’s a praise kink, but some days it really seems that way without anyone consenting to participate in her kink. She asks if I noticed she cleaned the kitchen or did some kind of cleaning and if I’m proud of her. I used to play along with the praise because I wanted to give her positive reinforcement, like maybe if I emphasized that it was a good thing, she’d be more encouraged to do it more. I’ve got jokes, apparently. Optimism was so strong early in the friendship.
If she cooks, usually it’s something frozen that she can heat up like pizza. Most of the time, she exists on boxed macaroni and cheese or sandwiches. Or what fast food OLB brings home. Most of her diet is processed, instant, or frozen. Or she eats odds and ends like what cereal and junk food is brought home from the food bank or when OLB goes shopping.
Since SA left the house, I took up cooking for myself and exploring what I like to cook, as SA was the main cook for the house. My gym regimen helped me meal prep and confront a lot of my bad eating habits, so I started prepping healthier foods. I am the stereotypical lifter that eats a lot of chicken, rice, and vegetables. Z also likes to cook, and it became a way for us to bond by cooking together or one of us watching the other cook and just vibe in each other’s company.
VultureBeard gets her name because, one, she is a legbeard. But two, every time I made something early on with her living with us, she always said something along the lines of, “Ooh, that smells so good! It’s making me hungry!”
Me, in my doormat stage, took the cue that she dangled and offered her some of my food. Back then, I always tried to cook enough for the whole house. It became a pattern. If I cooked something, she always popped up, hungry and unable to make actual food for herself or somehow her illnesses were acting up and preventing her from cooking for herself. If I said I was popping over to the store, sometimes she would ask if I could pick up a soda for her and occasionally, she would be able to pay me, always in loose change because her disability payments went right to the bills that she and OLB had. I always took the bait because yeah, doormats will doormat and vultures will vulture.
She does reciprocate in small ways, sharing some occasional treats with me or saying I can have some of her mac n cheese or Oreo cookies or French fries or whatever food she has some days. But for the most point, a lot of her behavior feels like fishing – fishing for attention, for food, for confirmations of her medical issues.
Her general attitude towards housework also contributes to her main other issue that makes me want to scream. She hoards. Empty salsa jars, Nesquik containers, pizza boxes, mac n cheese boxes. She holds onto things that Z and I see as garbage, because she has dozens of DIY projects in mind. She would be the person that followed 5 Minute Crafts for useful projects. To her credit, she did make a nifty sock organizer out of spare cardboard. But she has dozens of empty frozen pizza boxes and macaroni boxes piled up on her desk and ideas in her head, but no actual execution of them. I have pictures on my phone of her desk hoard, and while the desk itself is tall, the pile on the topmost part of the desk reaches the ceiling. That’s at least two feet of buildup.
It drives Z batty. With their OCD, Z can’t stand seeing the general mess in the house, but her desk makes them want to throw things. There was an empty Pizza Hut box that spent a week on the floor under the table in the living room before she finally picked it up and moved it to her desk. She scolded my cat for jumping on it.
Vulture: I want to save it for a project, I just don’t know what I want to use it for yet.
Me: Why not just throw it away? Isn’t it garbage?
She only gave a vague shrug, and the pizza box stayed on her desk for another few days until while cleaning the kitchen, Z got tired of looking at it and finally took it out to the outside garbage bin.
This is a constant pattern for her. She hoards things that she sees as something that could be useful in the future, but in the meantime it all stacks up and takes up space. She and OLB both are pack rats, which I think enables it further. OLB said that she also hoards food when she thinks there’s a food shortage in the house, but that also includes things that shouldn’t be eaten or are close to being spoiled. She freezes produce and even bread dough she made because she would start projects and then not have the energy to finish them or deal with them properly. I think if Z and I weren’t in the house, it would just be a rat’s nest of garbage.
That was why Z and I took on the majority of housework. We have a current setup to deep clean the common areas of the house monthly, and anything she doesn’t pick up that we read as trash will get thrown out. It’s barely making a change in the house, but it’s better for our mental health. It’s unfortunate that the house barely stays clean for two days after we clean it.
OLB usually has an excuse for not contributing towards the housework. His ADHD makes him forgetful, plus he hates dishes and purposefully avoids them until he knows he has to deal with it. He’s mostly just exhausted from work. With Vulture? Ten thousand excuses.
With OLB working an exhausting but consistent tech repair job, that leaves Vulture in charge of Kid during the day. If she exists entirely in her bed and the couch, how is she able to keep up with a toddler?
Oh, that’s going to be a huge tale on its own. Fuckle the buck up. We’ve got a long way to go. And yes, it will make you angry.

I'm a Character Designer by trade, and I am currently working on a personal project in my free time. I had in mind to make a design of a young indian man - say about 21-23 years old - with cultural references, patterns, historical aesthetics etc, in an anime inspired fantasy setting.
The thing is that I'm not indian myself, and I would like for this design to not just be visually appealing but also respectful. Ideally with some callbacks that indian people can see themselves in and appreciate.
I guess I have two questions.

1. Does this at all sound like a good idea? As I said, I'm not indian myself. And as much as I'd like to go about this tastefully, it might be best that I don't touch it at all.
   
2. If this sounds like something you'd like to help with, then I'd love to know; what is an era of Indian history that you think has especially appealing and meaningful art? Is there an older, traditional clothing style you find noteworthy? Any mythological creatures or characters you find especially cool? A neat person from history that would be good reference material for a character story? Or something else you don't see represented very much? If I do start working on fleshing this character out, expect concept sketches as I go along. I'd love the critique. Thank you very much for the help!
   

Do yous reckon that vamp / opium clothing is aestheticly pleasing??! 🦇

As the title says! c:
I'm looking for CC for alien occult sims.
Specifically, I'm wanting to make a Sim that is kinda cutesy, but maybe also a bit of edge. Colorful and playful clothing, maybe some grunge? Though I was sadly born right at the end, I'm a little bit of a 90s girl too, so wouldn't mind clothing and accessories that kinda fits the 90s aesthetic.
Build/Buy CC is also cool to be linked!
She will be energetic and cheerful, though socially awkward. I want her to be loyal too... I wonder if I can get it as a discovered trait?? I'd use the More Traits Mod, but I read there is some sort of issue going on bc of the discovered traits, so kinda shying away from it.
She will be a painter starting out, n then will switch to being a stay-at-home parent (I'm wanting to do 2 aspirations with her if possible). I was kinda thinking about having her be a streamer, but I'd more cool streamer-girl CC for that as well lol.

PODCAST: https://ayearofwarandpeace.podbean.com/e/ep1572-hail-and-farewell-george-moore-vale-chapter-112/
PROMPTS: George does not care about you, whatsoever.
Today's Reading, via Project Gutenberg:
Borde could not enlighten him on that point, and I suggested that he should make application to the publisher of his Prayer-Book and get his money back. There is nobody. I said, like him. He is more wonderful than anything in literature. I prefer him to Sancho who was untroubled with a conscience and never thought of running to the Bishop of Toledo. All the same he is not without the shrewdness of his ancestors, and got the better of Archbishop Walsh, and for the last five years Vincent O'Brien has been beating time, and will beat it till the end of his life; and he will be succeeded by others, for Edward has, by deed, saved the Italian contrapuntalists till time everlasting from competition with modern composers. He certainly has gotten the better of Walsh. And I thought of a picture-gallery in Dublin with nothing in it but Botticelli and his school, and myself declaring that all painting that had been done since had no interest for me.... A smile began to spread over my face, for the story that was coming into my mind seemed oh! so humorous, so like Ireland, so like Edward, that I began to tell myself again the delightful story of the unrefined ears that, weary of erudite music, had left the cathedral and sought instinctively modern tunes and women's voices, and as these were to be found in Westland Row the church was soon overflowing with a happy congregation. But in a little while the collections grew scantier. This time it couldn't be Palestrina, and all kinds of reasons were adduced. At last the truth could no longer be denied—the professional Catholics of Merrion Square had been driven out of Westland Row by the searching smells of dirty clothes, and had gone away to the University Church in Stephen's Green. So if it weren't Palestrina directly it was Palestrina indirectly, and the brows of the priests began to knit when Edward Martyn's name was mentioned. Them fal-de-dals is well enough on the Continent, in Paris, where there is no faith, was the opinion of an important ecclesiastic. But we don't want them here, murmured a second ecclesiastic. All this counterpoint may make a very pretty background for Mr Martyn's prayers, but what about the poor people's? Good composer or bad composer, there is no congregation in him, said a third. There's too much congregation, put in the first, but not the kind we want! The second ecclesiastic took snuff, and the group were of opinion that steps should be taken to persuade dear Edward to make good their losses. The priests in Marlborough Street sympathised with the priests of Westland Row, and told them that they were so heavily out of pocket that Mr Martyn had agreed to do something for them. It seemed to the Westland Row priests that if Mr Martyn were making good the losses of the priests of the pro-Cathedral, he should make good their losses. It was natural that they should think so, and to acquit himself of all responsibility Edward no doubt consulted the best theologians on the subject, and I think that they assured him that he is not responsible for indirect losses. If he were, his whole fortune would not suffice. He was, of course, very sorry if a sudden influx of poor people had caused a falling-off in the collections of Westland Row, for he knew that the priests needed the money very much to pay for the new decorations, and to help them he wrote an article in the Independent praising the new blue ceiling, which seemed, so he wrote, a worthy canopy for the soaring strains of Palestrina.
Unfortunately rubbing salt into the wound, I said. A story that will amuse Dujardin and it will be great fun telling him in the shady garden at Fontainebleau how Edward, anxious to do something for his church, had succeeded in emptying two. All the way down the alleys he will wonder how Edward could have ever looked upon Palestrina's masses as religious music. The only music he will say, in which religious emotion transpires is plain-chant. Huysmans says that the Tantum Ergo or the Dies Irae, one or the other, reminds him of a soul being dragged out of purgatory, and it is possible that it does; but a plain-chant tune arranged in eight-part counterpoint cannot remind one of anything very terrible. Dujardin knows that Palestrina was a priest, and he will say: That fact deceived your friend, just as the fact of finding the Adeste Fideles among the plain-chant tunes deceived him. For of course I shall tell Dujardin that story too. It is too good to be missed. He is wonderful, Dujardin! I shall cry out in one of the sinuous alleys. There never was anybody like him! And I will tell him more soul-revealing anecdotes. I will say: Dujardin, listen. One evening he contended that the great duet at the end of Siegfried reminded him of mass by Palestrina. Dujardin will laugh, and, excited by his laughter, I will try to explain to him that what Edward sees is that Palestrina took a plain chant tune and gave fragments of it to the different voices, and in his mind these become confused with the motives of The Ring. You see, Dujardin, the essential always escapes him—the intention of the writer is hidden from him. I am beginning to understand your friend. He has, let us suppose, a musical ear that allows him to take pleasure in the music; but a musical ear will not help him to follow Wagner's idea—how, in a transport of sexual emotion, a young man and a young woman on a mountain-side awaken to the beauty of the life of the world. Dujardin's appreciations will provoke me, and I will say: Dujardin, you shouldn't be so appreciative. If I were telling you of a play I had written, it would be delightful to watch my idea dawning upon your consciousness; but I am telling you of a real man, and one that I shall never to able to get into literature. He will answer: We invent nothing; we can but perceive. And then, exhilarated, carried beyond myself, I will say: Dujardin, I will tell you something still more wonderful than the last gaffe. II gaffe dans les Quat'z Arts. He admires Ibsen, but you'd never guess the reason why—because he is very like Racine; both of them, he says, are classical writers. And do you know how he arrived at that point? Because nobody is killed on the stage in Racine or in Ibsen. He does not see that the intention of Racine is to represent men and women out of time and out of space, unconditioned by environment, and that the very first principle of Ibsen's art is the relation of his characters to their environment. In many passages he merely dramatises Darwin. There never was anybody so interesting as dear Edward, and there never will be anybody like him in literature ... I will explain why presently, but I must first tell you another anecdote. I went to see him one night, and he told me that the theme of the play he was writing was a man who had married a woman because he had lost faith in himself; the man did not know, however, that the woman had married him for the same reason, and the two of them were thinking—I have forgotten what they were thinking, but I remember Edward saying: I should like to suggest hopelessness. I urged many phrases, but he said: It isn't a phrase I want, but an actual thing. I was thinking of a broken anchor—that surely is a symbol of hopelessness. Yes, I said, no doubt, but how are you going to get a broken anchor into a drawing-room? I don't write about drawing-rooms. Well, living-rooms. It isn't likely that they would buy a broken anchor and put it up by the coal-scuttle.
There's that against it, he answered. If you could suggest anything better—What do you think of a library in which there is nothing but unacted plays? The characters could say, when there was nothing for them to do on the stage, that they were going to the library to read, and the library would have the advantage of reminding everybody of the garret in the Wild Duck. A very cruel answer, my friend, Dujardin will say, and I will tell him that I can't help seeing in Edward something beyond Shakespeare or Balzac. Now, tell me, which of these anecdotes I have told you is the most humorous? He will not answer my question, but a certain thoughtfulness will begin to settle in his face, and he will say: Everything with him is accidental, and when his memory fails him he falls into another mistake, and he amuses you because it is impossible for you to anticipate his next mistake. You know there is going to be one; there must be one, for he sees things separately rather than relatively. I am beginning to understand your friend.
You are, you are; you are doing splendidly. But you haven't told me, Dujardin, which anecdote you prefer. Stay, there is another one. Perhaps this one will help you to a still better understanding. When he brought The Heather Field and Yeats's play The Countess Cathleen to Dublin for performance, a great trouble of conscience awakened suddenly in him, and a few days before the performance he went to a theologian to ask him if The Countess Cathleen were a heretical work, and, if it were would Almighty God hold him responsible for the performance? But he couldn't withdraw Yeats's play without withdrawing his own, and it appears that he breathed a sigh of relief when a common friend referred the whole matter to two other theologians, and as these gave their consent Edward allowed the plays to go on; but Cardinal Logue intervened, and wrote a letter to the papers to say that the play seemed to him unfit for Catholic ears, and Edward would have withdrawn the plays if the Cardinal hadn't admitted in his letter that he had judged the play by certain extracts only.
He wishes to act rightly, but has little faith in himself; and what makes him so amusing is that he needs advice in aesthetics as well as in morals. We are, I said, Dujardin, at the roots of conscience. And I began to ponder the question what would happen to Edward if we lived in a world in which aesthetics ruled: I should be where Bishop Healy is, and he would be a thin, small voice crying in the wilderness—an amusing subject of meditation, from which I awoke suddenly.
I wonder how Dujardin is getting on with his Biblical studies? Last year he was calling into question the authorship of the Romans—a most eccentric view; and, remembering how weakly I had answered him, I took the Bible from the table and began to read the Epistle with a view to furnishing myself with arguments wherewith to confute him. My Bible opened at the ninth chapter, and I said: Why, here is the authority for the Countess Cathleen's sacrifice which Edward's theologian deemed untheological. It will be great fun to poke Edward up with St Paul, and on my way to Lincoln Place I thought how I might lead the conversation to The Countess Cathleen.
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A few minutes afterwards a light appeared on the staircase and the door slowly opened.
Come in, Siegfried, though you were off the key.
Well, my dear friend, it is a difficult matter to whistle above two trams passing simultaneously and six people jabbering round a public-house, to say nothing of a jarvey or two, and you perhaps dozing in your armchair, as your habit often is. You won't open to anything else except a motive from The Ring; and I stumbled up the stairs in front of Edward, who followed with a candle.
Wait a moment; let me go first and I'll turn up the gas.
You aren't sitting in the dark, are you?
No, but I read better by candle-light, and he blew out the candles in the tin candelabrum that he had made for himself. He is original even in his candelabrum; no one before him had ever thought of a caridelabrum in tin, and I fell to admiring his appearance more carefully than perhaps I had ever done before, so monumental did he seem lying on the little sofa sheltered from daughts by a screen, a shawl about his shoulders. His churchwarden was drawing famously, and I noticed his great square hands with strong fingers and square nails pared closely away, and as heretofore I admired the curve of the great belly, the thickness of the thighs, the length and breadth and the width of his foot hanging over the edge of the sofa, the apoplectic neck falling into great rolls of flesh, the humid eyes, the skull covered with short stubbly hair. I looked round the rooms and they seemed part of himself: the old green wallpaper on which he pins reproductions of the Italian masters. And I longed to peep once more into the bare bedroom into which he goes to fetch bottles of Apollinaris. Always original! Is there another man in this world whose income is two thousand a year, and who sleeps in a bare bedroom, without dressing-room, or bathroom, or servant in the house to brush his clothes, and who has to go to the baker's for his breakfast?
We had been talking for some time of the Gaelic League, and from Hyde it was easy to pass to Yeats and his plays.
His best play is The Countess Cathleen.
The Countess Cathleen is only a sketch.
But what I never could understand, Edward, was why you and the Cardinal could have had any doubts as to the orthodoxy of The Countess Cathleen.
What, a woman that sells her own soul in order to save the souls of others!
I suppose your theologian objected—
Of course he objected.
He cannot have read St Paul.
What do you mean?
He can't have read St Paul, or else he is prepared to throw over St Paul.
Mon ami Moore, mon ami Moore.
The supernatural idealism of a man who would sell his soul to save the souls of others fills me with awe.
But it wasn't a man; it was the Countess Cathleen, and women are never idealists.
Not the saints?
His face grew solemn at once.
If you give me the Epistles I will read the passage to you. And it was great fun to go to the bookshelves and read: I say the truth in Christ, I lie not, my conscience also bearing me witness in the Holy Ghost, that I have great heaviness and continual sorrow in my heart. For I could wish that myself were accursed from Christ for my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh.
Edward's face grew more and more solemn, and I wondered of what he was thinking.
Paul is a very difficult and a very obscure writer, and I think the Church is quite right not to encourage the reading of the Epistles, especially without comments.
Then you do think there is something in the passage I have read?
After looking down his dignified nose for a long time, he said:
Of course, the Church has an explanation. All the same, it's very odd that St Paul should have said such a thing—very odd.
There is no doubt that I owe a great deal of my happiness to Edward; all my life long he has been exquisite entertainment. And I fell to thinking that Nature was very cruel to have led me, like Moses, within sight of the Promised Land. A story would be necessary to bring Edward into literature, and it would be impossible to devise an action of which he should be a part. The sex of a woman is odious to him, and a man with two thousand a year does not rob nor steal, and he is so uninterested in his fellow-men that he has never an ill word to say about anybody. John Eglinton is a little thing; AE is a soul that few will understand; but Edward is universal—more universal than Yeats, than myself, than any of us, but for lack of a story I shall not be able to give him the immortality in literature which he seeks in sacraments. Shakespeare always took his stories from some other people. Turgenev's portrait of him would be thin, poor, and evasive, and Balzac would give us the portrait of a mere fool. And Edward is not a fool. As I understand him he is a temperament without a rudder; all he has to rely upon is his memory, which isn't a very good one, and so he tumbles from one mistake into another. My God! it is a terrible thing to happen to one, to understand a man better than he understands himself, and to be powerless to help him. If I had been able to undo his faith I should have raised him to the level of Sir Horace Plunkett, but he resisted me; and perhaps he did well, for he came into the world seeing things separately rather than relatively, and had to be a Catholic. He is a born Catholic, and I remembered one of his confessions—a partial confession, but a confession: If you had been brought up as strictly as I have been—I don't think he ever finished the sentence; he often leaves sentences unfinished, as if he fears to think things out. The end of the sentence should run: You would not dare to think independently. He thinks that his severe bringing-up has robbed him of something. But the prisoner ends by liking his prison-house, and on another occasion he said: If it hadn't been for the Church, I don't know what would have happened to me.
My thoughts stopped, and when I awoke I was thinking of Hughes. Perhaps the link between Hughes and Edward was Loughrea Cathedral. He had shown me a photograph of some saints modelled by Hughes. Hughes is away in Paris, I said, modelling saints for Loughrea Cathedral. The last time I saw him was at Walter Osborne's funeral, and Walter's death set me thinking of the woman I had lost, and little by little all she had told me about herself floated up in my mind like something that I had read. I had never seen her father nor the Putney villa in which she had been brought up, but she had made me familiar with both through her pleasant mode of conversation, which was never to describe anything, but just to talk about things, dropping phrases here and there, and the phrases she dropped were so well chosen that the comfort of the villa, its pompous meals and numerous servants, its gardens and greenhouses, with stables and coach-house just behind, are as well known to me as the house that I am living in, better known in a way, for I see it through the eyes of the imagination ... clearer eyes than the physical eyes.
It does not seem to me that any one was ever more conscious of whence she had come and of what she had been; she seemed to be able to see herself as a child again, and to describe her childhood with her brother (they were nearly the same age) in the villa and in the villa's garden. I seemed to see them always as two rather staid children who were being constantly dressed by diligent nurses and taken out for long drives in the family carriage. They did not like these drives and used to hide in the garden; but their governess was sent to fetch them, and they were brought back. Her father did not like to have the horses kept waiting, and one day as Stella stood with him in the passage, she saw her mother come out of her bedroom beautifully dressed. Her father whispered something in his wife's ear, and he followed her into her bedroom. Stella remembered how the door closed behind them. In my telling, the incident seems to lose some of its point, but in Stella's relation it seemed to put her father and his wife before me and so clearly that I could not help asking her what answer her father would make were she to tell him that she had a lover. A smile hovered in her grave face. He would look embarrassed, she said, and wonder why I should have told him such a thing, and then I think he would go to the greenhouse, and when he returned he would talk to me about something quite different. I don't think that Stella ever told me about the people that came to their house, but people must have come to it, and as an example of how a few words can convey an environment I will quote her: I always wanted to talk about Rossetti, she said, and these seven words seem to me to tell better than any description the life of a girl living with a formal father in a Putney villa, longing for something, not knowing exactly what, and anxious to get away from home.... I think she told me she was eighteen or nineteen and had started painting before she met Florence at the house of one of her father's friends; a somewhat sore point this meeting was, for Florence was looked upon by Stella's father as something of a Bohemian. She was a painter, and knew all the Art classes and the fees that had to be paid, and led Stella into the world of studios and models and girl friends. She knew how to find studios and could plan out a journey abroad. Stella's imagination was captured, and even if her father had tried to offer opposition to her leaving home he could not have prevented her, for she was an heiress (her mother was dead and had left her a considerable income); but he did not try, and the two girls set up house together in Chelsea; they travelled in Italy and Spain; they had a cottage in the country; they painted pictures and exhibited their pictures in the same exhibitions; they gave dances in their studios and were attracted by this young man and the other; but Stella did not give herself to any one, because, as she admitted to me, she was afraid that a lover would interrupt the devotion which she intended to give to Art. But life is forever casting itself into new shapes and forms, and no sooner had she begun to express herself in Art than she met me. I was about to go to Ireland to preach a new gospel, and must have seemed a very impulsive and fantastic person to her, but were not impulsiveness and fantasy just the qualities that would appeal to her? And were not gravity and good sense the qualities that would appeal to me, determined as I was then to indulge myself in a little madness?
I could not have chosen a saner companion than Stella; my instinct had led me to her; but because one man's instinct is a little more clear than another's, it does not follow that he has called reason to his aid. It must be remembered always that the art of painting is as inveterate in me as the art of writing, and that I am never altogether myself when far away from the smell of oil paint. Stella could talk to one about painting, and all through that wonderful summer described in Salve our talk flowed on as delightfully as a breeze in Maytime, and as irresponsible, flashing thoughts going by and avowals perfumed with memories. Only in her garden did conversation fail us, for in her garden Stella could think only of her flowers, and it seemed an indiscretion to follow her as she went through the twilight gathering dead blooms or freeing plants from noxious insects. But she would have had me follow her, and I think was always a little grieved that I wasn't as interested in her garden as I was in her painting; and my absent-mindedness when I followed her often vexed her and my mistakes distressed her.
You are interested, she said, only in what I say about flowers and not in the flowers themselves. You like to hear me tell about Miss —— whose business in life is to grow carnations, because you already see her, dimly, perhaps, but still you see her in a story. Forget her and look at this Miss Shifner!
Yes, it is beautiful, but we can only admire the flowers that we notice when we are children, I answered. Dahlias, china roses, red and yellow tulips, tawny wallflowers, purple pansies, are never long out of my thoughts, and all the wonderful varieties of the iris, the beautiful blue satin and the cream, some shining like porcelain, even the common iris that grows about the moat.
But there were carnations in your mother's garden?
Yes, and I remember seeing them being tied with bass. But what did you say yesterday about carnations? That they were the—
She laughed and would not tell me, and when the twilight stooped over the high trees and the bats flitted and the garden was silent except when a fish leaped, I begged her to come away to the wild growths that I loved better than the flowers.
But the mallow and willow-weed are the only two that you recognise. How many times have I told you the difference between self-heal and tufted vetch?
I like cow parsley and wild hyacinths and—
You have forgotten the name. As well speak of a woman that you loved but whose name you had forgotten.
Well, if I have, I love trees better than you do, Stella. You pass under a fir unstirred by the mystery of its branches, and I wonder at you, for I am a tree worshipper, even as my ancestors, and am moved as they were by the dizzy height of a great silver fir. You like to paint trees, and I should like to paint flowers if I could paint; there we are set forth, you and I.
I have told in Salve that in Rathfarnham she found many motives for painting; the shape of the land and the spire above the straggling village appealed to me, but she was not altogether herself in these pictures. She would have liked the village away, for man and his dwellings did not form part of her conception of a landscape; large trees and a flight of clouds above the trees were her selection, and the almost unconscious life of kine wandering or sheep seeking the shelter of a tree.
Stella was a good walker, and we followed the long road leading from Rathfarnham up the hills, stopping to admire the long plain which we could see through the comely trees shooting out of the shelving hillside.
If I have beguiled you into a country where there are no artists and few men of letters, you can't say that I have not shown you comely trees. And now if you can walk two miles farther up this steep road I will show you a lovely prospect.
And I enjoyed her grave admiration of the old Queen Anne dwelling-house, its rough masonry, the yew hedges, the path along the hillside leading to the Druid altar and the coast-line sweeping in beautiful curves, but she did not like to hear me say that the drawing of the shore reminded her of Corot.
It is a sad affectation, she said, to speak of Nature reminding one of pictures.
Well, the outlines of Howth are beautiful, I answered, and the haze is incomparable. I should like to have spoken about a piece of sculpture, but for your sake, Stella, I refrain.
She was interested in things rather than ideas, and I remember her saying to me that things interest us only because we know that they are always slipping from us. A strange thing for a woman to say to her lover. She noticed all the changes of the seasons and loved them, and taught me to love them. She brought a lamb back from Rathfarnham, a poor forlorn thing that had run bleating so pitifully across the windy field that she had asked the shepherd where the ewe was, and he had answered that she had been killed overnight by a golf-ball. The lamb will be dead before morning, he added. And it was that March that the donkey produced a foal, a poor ragged thing that did not look as if it ever could be larger than a goat, but the donkey loved her foal.
Do you know the names of those two birds flying up and down the river?
They look to me like two large wrens with white waistcoats.
They are water-ouzels, she said.
The birds flew with rapid strokes of the wings, like kingfishers, alighting constantly on the river, on large mossy stones, and though we saw them plunge into the water, it was not to swim, but to run along the bottom in search of worms.
But do worms live under water?
The rooks were building, and a little while after a great scuffling was heard in one of the chimneys and a young jackdaw came down and soon became tamer than any bird I had ever seen, tamer than a parrot, and at the end of May the corncrake called from the meadow that summer had come again, and the kine wandered in deeper and deeper and deeper herbage. The days seemed never to end, and looking through the branches of the chestnut in which the fruit had not begun to show, we caught sight of a strange spectacle. Stella said, A lunar rainbow, and I wondered, never having heard of or seen such a thing before.
I shall never forget that rainbow, Stella, and am glad that we saw it together.
In every love story lovers reprove each other for lack of affection, and Stella had often sent me angry letters which caused me many heart-burnings and brought me out to her; in the garden there were reconciliations, we picked up the thread again, and the summer had passed before the reason of these quarrels became clear to me. One September evening Stella said she would accompany me to the gate, and we had not gone very far before I began to notice that she was quarrelling with me. She spoke of the loneliness of the Moat House, and I had answered that she had not been alone two evenings that week. She admitted my devotion. And if you admit that there has been no neglect—
She would not tell me, but there was something she was not satisfied with, and before we reached the end of the avenue she said, I don't think I can tell you. But on being pressed she said:
Well, you don't make love to me often enough.
And full of apologies I answered, Let me go back.
No, I can't have you back now, not after having spoken like that.
But she yielded to my invitation, and we returned to the house, and next morning I went back to Dublin a little dazed, a little shaken.
A few days after she went away to Italy to spend the winter and wrote me long letters, interesting me in herself, in the villagers, in the walks and the things that she saw in her walks, setting me sighing that she was away from me, or that I was not with her. And going to the window I would stand for a long time watching the hawthorns in their bleak wintry discontent, thinking how the sunlight fell into the Italian gardens, and caught the corner of the ruin she was sketching; and I let my fancy stray for a time unchecked. It would be wonderful to be in Italy with her, but—
I turned from the window suspicious, for there was a feeling at the back of my mind that with her return an anxiety would come into my life that I would willingly be without. She had told me she had refrained from a lover because she wished to keep all herself for her painting, and now she had taken to herself a lover. She was twenty years younger than I was, and at forty-six or thereabouts one begins to feel that one's time for love is over; one is consultant rather than practitioner. But it was impossible to dismiss the subject with a jest, and I found myself face to face with the question—If these twenty years were removed, would things be different? It seemed to me that the difficulty that had arisen would have been the same earlier in my life as it was now, and returning to the window I watched the hawthorns blowing under the cold grey Dublin sky.
The problem is set, I said, for the married, and every couple has to solve it in one way or another, but they have to solve it; they have to come to terms with love, especially the man, for whom it is a question of life and death. But how do they come to terms? And I thought of the different married people I knew. Which would be most likely to advise me—the man or the woman? It would be no use to seek advice; every case is different, I said. If anybody were to advise me it would be the man, for the problem is not so difficult for a woman. She can escape from love more easily than her lover or her husband; she can plead, and her many pleadings were considered, one by one, and how in married life the solution that seems to lovers so difficult is solved by marriage itself, by propinquity. But not always, not always. The question is one of extraordinary interest and importance; more marriages come to shipwreck, I am convinced, on this very question than upon any other. In the divorce cases published we read of incompatibility of temper and lack of mutual tastes, mere euphemisms that deceive nobody. The image of a shipwreck rose up in me naturally. She will return, and like a ship our love for each other will be beaten on these rocks and broken. We shall not be able to get out to sea. She will return, and when she returns her temperament will have to be adjusted to mine, else she will lose me altogether, for men have died of love, though Shakespeare says they haven't. Manet and Daudet—both died of love; and the somewhat absurd spectacle of a lover waiting for his mistress to return, and yet dreading her returning, was constantly before me.
It often seemed to me that it was my own weakness that created our embarrassment. A stronger man would have been able to find a way out, but I am not one that can shape and mould another according to my desire; and when she returned from Italy I found myself more helpless than ever, and I remember, and with shame, how, to avoid being alone with her, I would run down the entire length of a train, avoiding the empty carriages, crying Not here, not here! at last opening the door of one occupied by three or four people, who all looked as if they were bound for a long journey. I remember, too, how about this time I came with friends to see Stella, whether by accident or design, frankly I know not; I only know that I brought many friends to see her, thinking they would interest her.
If you don't care to come to see me without a chaperon, I would rather you didn't come at all, she said, humiliating me very deeply.
It seemed to me, I answered, blushing, that you would like to see ——, and I mentioned the name of the man who had accompanied me.
If I am cross sometimes it is because I don't see enough of you.
It seems to me that it was then that the resolve hardened in my heart to become her friend ... if she would allow me to become her friend. But in what words should I frame my request and my apology? All the time our life was becoming less amiable, until one evening I nipped the quarrel that was beginning, stopping suddenly at the end of the avenue.
It is better that we should understand each other. The plain truth is that I must cease to be your lover unless my life is to be sacrificed.
Cease to be my lover!
That is impossible, but a change comes into every love story.
The explanation stuttered on. I remember her saying: I don't wish you to sacrifice your life. I have forgotten the end of her sentence. She drew her hand suddenly across her eyes. I will conquer this obsession.
A man would have whined and cried and besought and worried his mistress out of her wits. Women behave better than we; only once did her feelings overcome her. She spoke to me of the deception that life is. Again we were standing by the gate at the end of the chestnut avenue, and I remembered her telling me how a few years ago life had seemed to hold out its hands to her; her painting and her youth created her enjoyment.
But now life seems to have shrivelled up, she said; only a little dust is left.
Nothing is changed, so far as you and I are concerned. We see each other just the same.
I am no more to you than any other woman.
She went away again to Italy to paint and returned to Ireland, and one day she came to see me, and remained talking for an hour. I have no memory of what we said to each other, but a very clear memory of our walk through Dublin over Carlisle Bridge and along the quays. I had accompanied her as far as the Phoenix Park gates, and at the corner of the Conyngham Road, just as I was bidding her goodbye, she said:
I want to ask your advice on a matter of importance to me.
And to me, for what is important to you is equally important to me.
I am thinking, she said, of being married.
At the news it seems to me that I was unduly elated and tried to assume the interest that a friend should.