[ultimate writer.]

Res

NO STEALING

She will do the same thing as the plot present in '' The divine comedy ''
Wants to see the meaning of life

[squints]

𝓕𝓾𝓷𝓷𝔂, 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓹...

Blanch Dubois // female // living in the late 1930s

▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬

There are plenty of those who claim that beauty fades and grace remains eternally; for an aging face, those words might as well be gospel. Fearing for the quick fleeting youth breeds a particularly unique sort of paranoia within some. Blanche Dubois would be one of those living in the shadow of a steadily growing age. To the world removed from her perspective, Blanche is still quite youthful, the late twenties aren't an age of tiredness nor fear, however, Blanche herself feels as though she might as well be decrepit. The woman has the grace of an aging starlet clinging desperately to the limelight. It's not unnatural to experience fear at the signs of growing older, but Blanche takes her fright to a fever pitch. Though she does fear the loss of her beauty, the thought of aging without accomplishing anything is what really terrifies Blanche...

▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬

Blanche grew as a woman of affluence and poise; coming from a family of early twentieth century bankers, a day with out extravagance was unknown. A life of luxury would be a trivialization of the way of life experienced by Blanche. During her youth, the woman never desired more than a life of pleasantries; an existence comprised of strictly lavish delights. Shopping sprees in cities where only the wealthy dared wonder and dinners with tabs that would make even Sinatra sweat were the ideals Blanche held herself to. However, she was far from spending her own money, seeing as a career never quite interested the heiress. She began teaching at an elementary school, although she did leave the position promptly after accusations of an affair between herself and the currently principal arose. At the age of twenty, her parents financed a beautiful highrise apartment in downtown New York City for their child to find herself. Allowing their daughter shelter after the negative whispers plagued her, however, the city was in no way kind to Blanche.
▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬
Swindled out of her cash on multiple occasions, and lost and nearly attacked on numerous occasions proved to Blanche her own cloistered lifestyle. The bustle of a city the lacked empathy provided Blanche with heartache upon heartache. Despite all of her woes, Blanche refused to leave the metropolis. Something about the city beckoned her to return time and time again. And, as the years sped at an unmeasurable swiftness, Blanche had a revelation. Her belligerence to withdraw from the big bustle was due to her adoration of the arts that thrived in the city. Broadway was her domain and the shows and movies she watched brought hope and inspiration to a woman lost in herself. And, to dance school she ran, hoping beyond all else she could develop enough skill to make something of herself in this life.

▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬
Running to Hollywood like a bird to a flock, Blanche found her love of dance and began to learn all she could at a breakneck pace. Blanche being twenty-five at this point worried her age might detract from her attractiveness as a hire in this era. The work she had dedicated to her newfound passion in the past five years did not go unnoticed. She was hired with a company and fell in love with performance, though she longed for something far different than the troupe she participated with. Watching women like Eleanor Powell and Ginger Rogers, Blanche yearned for the silver screen. Having received everything she ever wanted, Blanche was infuriated by the repetition of rejection. It seemed as though Blanche really struggled to catch part unless it was in the midst of a chorus. Making a speaking part brought her tears of joy, but that role didn't mean her struggle was nearing its end. Even to her current day, Blanche works day and night to fulfill all she's hoped for.
▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬

For all of her life, her kin provided and Blanche lacked any true occupation. Now when sleep evades, dreams of tap and song flood her mind. Dedication crafts the aspirations of Ms. DuBois; all current efforts of her being are directed toward dance. Blanche yearns to craft her own fortune, she dreams to no longer live off her family. Having no passion until this point in her life, the young woman fears she may have missed her opportunity to grace the theatres. The work poured into classes has given way for a miraculous work ethic within the heiress; it's as if Blanche had nothing really to live for prior to dance. Time dwindles and shopping and dinners are no longer what delights Blanche, hours in the studio and filming fill the budding starlet with anxious giddiness. To star in her own feature, to be independent, and to maintain a legacy, that is all Blanche dreams of.
{801/1000}

[kiribaku]

res!!

[tøxiclilypetals]

trying out

"Most of our best dreams come from the dark, and because it's dark it doesn't mean I can't smile."

My name is Yume, which is 'Dream' in Japanese. Growing up, I had a colorful imagination and was always filled with ideas. I was taunted for not being what others wanted me to be based off my looks. I wanted to make a difference in the world; I wanted to paint the sky, brighten the sun, and better the people of the world. After years of studying to be an artist, I was accepted to an art education center where my career began to grow and thrive. I got to paint the sky, brighten the sun, and better myself like I had always wanted. I wanted a colorful and happy world, wouldn't you agree?

[Soll]

res res res res res

[Mozzy.]

Username: Mozzy. | Name: Amaia | Gender: Female

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Look up. What do you see?
I see a thousand tiny dots dancing around in a deep abyss. It's rather like a painting, isn't it? Fantastical and full of life.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Every time Mother would come and tuck me into my bed, she would tell me a wonderful story of the stars and night sky. The constellations dancing and playing with each other; the moons and shooting stars that she would tell me to make a wish for. I always dreamed I could dance and play with the stars - that was the childhood dream anyway. As I got older I realized that there was no possible way I could play with the stars, it was simply not in the question. Not in the abyss of the sky anyway. To dance and play with the stars would mean I'd need to bring the stars to me. And I did this through painting.

Being a young girl in the early 20th century, times were still not great, it was very hard to have your voice heard. I wanted to let the world know that it was my dream to dance and play with the stars. I was very optimistic, and figured if I could do something to make myself unknown without being known as a girl maybe then I could tell the world? Mother wasn't very supportive of my idea, but she figured why not give it a go? She's just a child. She took me down to the local craft store, bought me my first proper canvas and an assortment of different types of paints and pencils, then sat me down in the sunroom where she kept her small garden. I started painting the flowers, the leaves and the stacks of books in the room. While it was fun and in good practice, it didn't please me very much. I wanted the stars! After a few months, Mother could see my disappointment in not painting the stars. She was disheartened, as she herself was an avid illustrator and loved the classic literature & style, and decided to one day take me to a place where I could see all the stars. Mother took me out to the country, away from the lights of the city, and set up a campsite. We stayed at the campsite for a few days, taking in the serene nature and views, and of course the stars. The stars were brighter than I could ever have imagined! I was so pleased, I pointed at least 10 canvases during our trip. Mother was happy too - she could continue her novella without being interrupted by rude businessmen.

[ 437 / 1000 ]
[ work in progress ]

[jaques]

M a r k

[0Zero0]

[ "𝕳𝖔𝖜 𝕴 𝖜𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖊𝖊𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕭𝖚𝖓𝖓𝖞 𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖓" ]

+++
┌──────────────────────────┐
{ [Lucy] [♀] [INTP] }
---
Dreaming of a Life,
Beyond the shimmering Stars.
What is on the Moon?
---
└──────────────────────────┘
+++

▒
▒
▒
▒
▒
▒
▒
▒
▒
▒
▒

▒
▒
▒
▒
▒
▒
▒
▒
▒
▒
▒

▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒

𝕻𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞

┌────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
---

■ Born to dream endlessly. Lucy is a strong independent female who knows more then most kalons her age. She is highly intelligent and resourceful always coming up with new things and striving to do things that others don't even think of. Her creativity and ingenuity has gotten her to many points in her life and has taught her to be open minded and try to seek out opinions from others. Though she isn't exactly the most fond of crowds or anything similar to the attention being on her she is willing to be around others, as long as she gets the time she needs away from those people. Being alone and looking up at the night sky is when she opens up the most, and is the most comfortable.

---
└────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘

▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒

𝕬 𝖕𝖔𝖎𝖓𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖛𝖎𝖊𝖜

┌────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
---

■ Underneath the starry sky, beneath all its swirling lights and shadows, lies a very curious kalon, wondering how many stars are in the sky, and what it would take to get to those stars. Many kits are starry eyed and adventurous, already knowing what they want and where they want to go. Lucy wasn't any different in that regard, but she seemed to not share her ideas and concepts with others. More often then not, the little kit would come up with things on her own, and only sharing these things with those that were close to her.

■ Her only true dream was to reach to the moon. As a child she was often told stories of a rabbit that lives up there, and that if you look up at the night sky on a full moon you could see that fluffy bunny. Lucy truly believing that the shadow on the moon was a bunny, no matter how big she got, she knew that one day she would make a new friend on the moon. all she had to do was figure out a way to get up there.

■ This belief lead her to great things, she was a story teller, an inventor, and a dreamer. While she never told others about the rabbit on the moon, She would often mention what it would take to reach those heights. The world was full of things and Lucy was ready to find it and cherish it with all her might. Others would often either laugh at her or even try to tell her how impossible it would be, but she still believed she could get up there to meet the bunny on the moon.

---
└────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘

[kirbby]

reserving for later.
link to story
will be found
on this post.

tomboys.

[_silentsiren_]

Chantrice: "Singer" || Female || 35

Translated from French:

"When I was a girl, I dreamed of being on a movie set. Being the woman, all men's hearts ached for, desired, and who the women wanted to be." She took a long drag of the cigarette, her crystal eyes raising to look at yours. "I was a star, for many years." She blew out the smoke, snapping the lighter shut. "The people loved me." She held the cigarette between her fingers, the gloves dawning on her arms were worn, and faded, clearly had seen better days. "And I loved the stage." Her eyes went back down to the glass of wine in front of her, taking a small sip. Her fur seemed as if crystals had once glimmered in them, her lips seemed to form this continuous line where there was once a smile upon her face.

---- ( please listen to for the best experience ) ----

She stood up from the velvet chair to move to her vanity. The glass was shattered, many pieces missing from it but the woman did not seem to notice, setting down the wine glass on the faded wood vanity's surface.
"I was a star." She leaned into the vanity mirror, getting close to her reflection, as if she were about to kiss it but stopped. "In the land of gods and monsters, I was an angel." She whispered, taking another long drag of her cigarette, breathing out the smoke that had begun to fill the room. When the smoke finally began to clear, there was a stage, and on it was a young looking woman. Her glory days.

Her singing filled the theater, her arms moving as if they were fluid. She sang with every ounce of passion in her voice, the audience captivated by her singing. Every note she sang was another wave of goosebumps across the crowd, her eyes barely open as she sang, hoping to appear as... care free. However, she was forever trapped in the state of mind that she must be loved by everyone or it meant nothing. After she sang out her heart and mind, she would smile and wave to the crowds, exiting off stage to receive the bouquets. She always asked them to be ordered to her room where she could admire and count just how many people admired her.

She would delicately hold the notes of affection, smiling as she realized how dearly they loved her for loving the stage. A knock came from the door, causing her to set down one of the notes from her admirers. She opened it very carefully, a critical looking face answering it.
"Aaa, Monsieur Blanc, come in." She moved aside, gently opening the door. She shut the door after he stepped in, taking a seat in the velvet chair near her vanity.
"Did you see my performance?"
"See it? Even deaf monkeys in China heard it." She frowned a little bit, her face twisting into something ugly.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Your incessant wailing was very... childish."
"Wailing?" She forced herself to keep her cool, her eyebrows knitting into a furrow.
"I'm wanting a refund after seeing this freak show." She lost it, wrapping her hands around his neck tightly, squeezing it with inhuman strength. Mr. White struggled violently in her hands until she squeezed hard enough to snap it. He fell to the floor with a heavy thud, one of the stage hands coming into her room to remind her of her next showing when he stopped mid sentence.
"Monsieur..." He whispered, eyes wide in fear as he began to run and scream for help. She gasped and looked at the velvet gloves, looking around for her escape passage she was given many years ago. Panicked, she fled and never looked back.

Years later, she found her way back to Paris, the theater abandoned and run-down from the murder mystery investigation which forced it into closing. She entered through the front doors, swinging them open and observing the area. She walked carefully to the theater doors, entering them and it was then she remembered her life before crime. She melted as she took the stage once again and began to sing her song she sang many years ago.

She lost her touch and forced her into hiding of her dressing room. She looked at all of the outfits which had been left behind and in the mirror which had been worn from time. She dared peer into it, finding a hideous monster behind the glass. Out of fear of seeing herself, she shattered it, screaming in pain. Her heart ached more than her hands. No one would certainly love to see a monster such as herself.

[771 words 4,175 characters]