Dunes

((It happens! No problemo. I've been kinda busy with student teaching and didn't notice this topic got bumped, either. )) Sapphire perked up at the mention of a premier pony party. "Ooh, you've been to the Gala? How was it? I've always wanted to go, but my manager has always told me something like, 'Under no circumstances are you to go to the Gala.' Pfft." She rolled her eyes. "Acts like I can't take a step without getting put in the tabloids." She led Pony Joe to the small, cleared area in front of the stage. Frederic certainly didn't disappoint when it came to swing music, either. Sapphire was practically beaming -- good music, nice ponies, and dancing? This was a better night than she could've hoped for. With a hold of Pony Joe's hoof with one of hers, she stood up. "It's a little funny to get used to if you don't dance on your hind legs a lot, but the beauty of this is you can lean on me if you need to." She placed her other hoof on his other arm, and looked down at their legs, motioning for Pony Joe to look as well. "Okay, it's like this." She took a step to the right, leaning into it, and took a step to the left, leaning the other way. "Step-lean left, step-lean right, and once you got that, we can start spinnin' circles!" She grinned, practically bouncing with every other beat. "You sure this ain't like making doughnuts? I'm pretty sure I'd have to dance if I got to be around those tasty things all day."

Sewn? No, not yet. I have been getting into cross-stitch, though, and I really want to make a pony one. My most recent cross-stitch project was an archaeopteryx and it came out aaawesome.

I planned her as a standalone, but the more I think on it, the more I'm not entirely sure how well she'll work by herself as she is. I may re-mark this as WIP and kinda rework her as a froofy girly-girl who happens to have a major crush that she won't even go talk to. Hrm. EDIT: Yeah, remarked her as WIP. I'd been thinking about that today anyway, so I'll fiddle with her description some.

I haven't seen the stores around me selling McIntosh apples! And Granny Smith's a bit tart for my tastes, though they do make fantastic apple pies.

Dear Princess Celestia, Today I learned that it never hurts to ask, even if you're scared. Even if you've avoided asking that kind of thing for years because you are terrified. The worst thing she can say is no. Or she could give you her number. Success! Your loyal subject, Dunes

Speaking of the apples... I find myself buying the Braeburn and Gala varieties a lot more frequently now.

You look with utter sadness at the empty box of blind bag ponies at wal mart. EVERY TIME. I never manage to make it before they sell out!

Oh my god, I love her. I love her so much. I managed to nab a ticket to go see her in Dallas in May. I'll try to refrain from yelling out, "MARRY ME, FLORENCE WELCH" but I make no guarantees. She is no doubt one of my all-time favorites. Floreeence... *Fans self* ... Whew. Okay. Better now. But I'm pretty much open to try any kind of music. I don't care for metal (^^ someone mentioned Nightwish; I do like them), country, or most punk (though if it's stuff like Flogging Molly, I'm all over it). I also don't care for most rap, though if it's not about slappin' hoes, how much money someone has, shooting people, or the po-lice (which seems to be most of it that I've heard so far), I'm willing to give it a chance. I like the beats and the flowing words, but I really dislike the misogynist content and culture that surrounds it. I'm all about the pretty ladies, but most rap videos make me very uncomfortable, too. As to my favorite music? I like... whatever Florence and the Machine is, a lot of indie stuff, new wave, electronica, ethereal, alternative, rock (particularly of the British variety)... I'm also a big fan of chant and celtic music. (And by celtic, I mean stuff like rather than stuff like Enya, though I love Enya as well.)And because I will not shut up about how much I love Florence Welch, have my favorite song on the planet right now:

Heh. Apparently my roommate is even less interested in hiding it than I am. I spotted a set with Twilight, Celestia, and Spike in it, and got all excited because I didn't have Spike yet. Roomie bought it for me because I watched her dog for her the night before. At the checkout, the cashier asked, "Would you like a gift receipt?" In that situation, I would've just said, "Nah, that's fine," and left it at that. Roommate said, "Why would I need one? She's right here." >.>

^^ Yes, oh my gosh, how could I forget Friendship is Witchcraft?! It's amazing. Sweetiebot is my favorite. Also, ABBA-LANCHE. Finally, a video combining my love of ponies and ABBA!

This was what originally piqued my interest: This is what cinched it and made me sit down and watch the first couple of episodes: Still some of my favorite videos. Sunshine and Celery Stalks gets played in my car a lot.

Hah, I'm a lady-person and I still call myself a brony because I dislike saying "pegasister". Welcome to the herd!

I'm a germaphobe. I have to moisturize my hands a couple of times a day to keep up with all of the hand-washing I do. ;_; Even though science says that your immune system is better off being exposed to some germs than no germs, I sanitize almost everything. (Student teaching has been an interesting experience. I will either end up in a crumpled heap, or I will just end up being too tired to care. We'll see!) I also find little tiny holes in things irrationally bothersome. Like those lotus seed pod things? I look at them and I just want to set them on fire or rip them up. Other than that, I really, really fear walking around alone at night. That's probably just self-preservation, though, especially being of the lady-persuasion. Worse is when I'm by myself, and I see a dude walking around or something. I just start panicking, grip my keys between my fingers like Wolverine, and bolt back to my car. He could just be outside for a smoke break or something, and my brain will be screaming at me that I'm gonna be next on the missing persons list. Le sigh.

LAST SEMESTER WOO. I'm an undergrad Art Education and Drawing and Painting dual major. Finished my studio stuff last semester, and I'm student teaching this semester. Seven weeks at an elementary school, seven weeks at a middle school. I'm really enjoying it so far, but I haven't gotten to the middle school portion yet, so, we'll see. >.>

Ohh my gosh I have been bad about this, my apologies. I like hammering out a character's past so I have a better understanding, but maybe I could put the "long-honkin' version" of it in a separate reply below the actual app to save folks' eyes in future. SO SORRY

Aaaand a good sleep later, I'm not seeing anything I'd really want to change or add. She's kind of a simple girl, here, aheh. Marking this as final.

Roleplay Type: Mane Name: Tasha Howlite Sex: Female Age: Adolescent - more than a little puppy, but not quite grown, either Species: Diamond dog (pit bull sorta dog) Eye Color: One blue, one reddish brown. Coat Color: Brown Mane/Tail/Markings Color & Style: White muzzle with white eyebrows, white socks on her back paws. Ears were cropped as a puppy, one is slightly bitten. Has a snaggle-tooth. Physique: Stocky, kinda chunky, but it's mostly muscle. Origin/Residence: Diamond dog tunnel network, but also favors the mountains of eastern Equestria. Occupation: Artist, she hopes. Motivation: To make ugly things pretty! Likes: Pretty rocks, making art wherever she can, making (unintenionally terrible) jewelry, decorating clubs and mining implements (terribly), dressing up (which translates to putting on a vest of the most obnoxiously colorful fabric she can find), ponies (in the hopes one might actually play dress-up with her) Dislikes: Fleas, thunder, being constantly surrounded by the color of dirt, being stuck in the tunnels Short-but-Sweet Character Sum-Up: Simple, but sweet, girly-girl from a family who really doesn't understand the appeal. Character Summary: Tasha is, even by Diamond Dog standards, not the brightest crayon in the box. Like the rest of her family, she loves finding and stockpiling gemstones, but she has next to no interest in their economic value. Despite her parents patiently explaining the connection between the gems leaving the cave, and the food and necessities coming back in, they're still just a pile of pretty rocks as far as she's concerned. Their value to her lies in making her surroundings more beautiful, and she has a fondness for making mosaics out of them. (Her parents eventually gave in and started setting aside the lesser-quality finds for her to use; they were tired of prying diamonds out of the tunnel walls every other day.) Tasha treasures her time outside of the tunnel systems. She finds the cave dark, dull, and boring-looking, but loves seeing the bursts of color in the plants and sky outside. She also takes any opportunity she can to try to find a pony to talk to. Her family occasionally traded with merchant ponies, and Tasha was awestruck by how colorful and fancy some of those ponies were! Every Diamond Dog she had met all had the same basic coat colors: brown, grey, brown, black, brown, dusty white, brown... Yet here were creatures that came in bright blue, or purple, or green! She couldn't help but be fascinated, and desperately wants to meet another one. Tasha spends most of her time making crafts, most recently and most enthusiastically for a Diamond Dog from a different tunnel system, named Bailey. She's seen and spoken to her all of once, and refuses to go back and say hello again, yet still devotes an inordinate amount of time to making things for her. Between her obsession with ponies, and the relentless lovelorn sighs, her family isn't sure what to do with her. Her parents are far more used to prying fighting puppies apart. For all her frou-frou interests, she's still very much a diamond dog. She can arm wrestle with the best of them, tries to resolve conflicts with her teeth, and has all the social grace of a drunk rhinoceros, but her dream is still to be a refined artist like some of the fancy ponies she's seen. Picture:

(Pfft, rusty my foot. You're fine. )) Akila frowned as she strained to listen. Something was coming closer. Something... something was singing, and obviously making no attempt to hide itself. In Akila's experience, the only things that did not move quietly on the plains were those which did not need to. Elephants and lions came to mind, but they didn't sing. Was this another zebra? Slowly, carefully, she raised her eyes above the grass. In the distance, she saw it, whatever it was. It was vaguely zebra-shaped, but with a remarkably hulking build, no stripes, and... a horn? Akila's heart began to pound. Some of the foul, twisted, creatures she had dreamed of -- the ones that had been the reason she was sent on this mission in the first place -- had horns. Po-nees, her aunt had called them. The all-too-familiar feeling of rushing adrenaline washed over her. She ducked back down. "Hatari, Jelani," she whispered. Danger, Jelani. It was approaching. She snorted softly and pawed the ground. "Ewe Mola tuepushe na mahasidi." Save us from the evil ones. She wasn't usually much for spirits or prayers, but with a threat approaching, she decided not to risk going without. She could pick out some of the individual sounds now. She'd been given a crash course in pony language by her aunt and one of the more well-traveled elders, so she could even understand some of the words. " ???? ?????? souls ????? To ???? steel ??????? them, ?? love or hate ???????? strength of Fate, ?????? grave ????????????????????? ????????????????????? whose sword's avenging ?????? ???????? fight and smite ????????? ??? ma'??????" Despite the elders' best efforts, Akila had really only bothered learning the words she found interesting. And the words she understood made it clear to her. This... creature was dangerous. It walked with no caution in the open and boasted of its prowess in battle. It feared no lion, no gryphon, no forest-beast. It was either a very strong fighter, or it wasn't going to last long on the savannah anyway. In either case, it would be upon her soon, and she had no means of escape. Stealth was not her forte; surprise would be her only option. Akila steeled herself. She looked at Jelani, and gave the barest nod to her left. At the signal, the dog took off to the left, to flank this creature. At the same time, Akila burst out of the grass like coiled fury. Head down, she charged.

Hoofbeats, grass rustling, and paws padding: for weeks, it was all Akila heard. After the first few days, she had started to pick out the rhythm in it. Her own hooves stayed at a steady pace, and these were the beat. The ridgeback dog traveling beside her provided a softer, more frequent percussion, prone to accelerando as he noticed particularly interesting smells and trotted off. The ebb of the grass in the wind whispered its part, or else swelled to uproar, and this was the melody. The zebra, singing as she made her way across the grasslands, was only singing the harmony, as far as she was concerned. She had been out in the hot, dry open for quite a while now. Akila knew how to survive on her own, even during the most punishing of dry seasons. She was heavily-built, and stood about a head higher than the other zebras in her herd, including most of the males, which would have been enough to set her apart on its own. The ginger stripes, however, might as well have been a flashing neon sign. Few enemies decided to risk a fight with the giant red zebra as she barreled towards them. She was a natural choice for a tribal warrior, and a natural choice for such an important mission – though she still had doubts of how legitimate this “spirit hunt” really was. She was in search of a port to take her to the land of these mysterious “ponies” her aunt had spoken of, but she had no trail to follow. Wild creatures were easier to find; they moved, and left prints behind. This "sea-port" was doing her no such favors. She was growing frustrated with the search. This was not the first time she had struck out alone on a mission; she was occasionally sent to dispatch with particularly bothersome predators. Those hunts often took weeks as well. All the same, so much time alone, with no word spoken and no sign of her goal, had begun to take its toll. Jelani had caught the scent of something. He bounded off now and again, tail wagging furiously with the excitement, until Akila called him back. She didn't know what it was he was trying to track, but she was starting to get irritated. His erratic movement was breaking her concentration. Even after he returned and fell back into pace with her, it took some time for her voice to rejoin the weeks-long savannah symphony. Suddenly, the dog froze in place, sniffing at the air. His tail stood straight up, as did the fur on the back of his neck. He growled softly, warning her. Akila ceased her humming and stood stock still. Whatever Jelani had caught scent of, it was either something dangerous, or something unfamiliar. Perhaps it was both. Wordlessly, Akila crouched down next to him, trying to catch sight of this new threat through the waving savannah grass.

I'm not entirely sure this has a point, but, I feel the need to put this somewhere before I can get myself to sleep. It's eerie how occasionally, FiM will come up with an episode that's crazy close to something that's going on in my life. I just spent two hours with my three roommates: me and our male roommate trying to mediate between our other two roommates as they just unleashed months of tension at each other. And it felt just like Hearth's Warming Eve, with those two fighting over the same patch of land and putting us in the middle, except the power of friendship didn't happen to melt the proverbial ice and make everyone stop fighting. 9_9 By contrast, it's interesting to see the behavior of some of the kids I'm working with at the elementary school. There are a few who delight in being terrors, sure, but for the most part, you'll get kids gleefully exclaiming, "Let's share!" or at least reminding their peers of what needs to get done ("Guys, if we don't clean up we don't get our points for today!"). Because they're little and easily distracted, they'll often do things they're not supposed to, but they do at least know what they're supposed to do and will do it if reminded, usually. (Sometimes resentfully, but they do it, dangit.) And if you can't convince them to stop being mean to each other, just move 'em away from each other until they chill out. And they face consequences for being too awful. But it seems like, when we all get to be adults, some folks just decide to throw all that out the window. Pfft, forget sharing! Forget compromise! Forget considering someone else's feelings! There's no people taller than me telling me not to be a jerk, so I'm just going to disregard anything that would make me change the way I do things, even if it would've made life more peaceful for those around me. Because " ... (whether or not I'm acting childish and unreasonable.)"They just kept going around and around. "You did this and it made me angry." "That's not how I remember it." "But it's how I remember it!" "But this how I remember it and it makes you look like a jerkface." "Well you did this other thing that made me mad." "I don't remember that at all." "OF COURSE YOU WOULDN'T YOU NEVER TAKE MY FEELINGS INTO ACCOUNT." And neither of them budged. There was clearly no meeting in the middle, just two different versions of "my way or the highway!" Little cartoon ponies aimed at the four- to six-year-old crowd have a better, more nuanced understanding of friendship and reconciliation than my actual, adult roommates. Kids' show? Pfft. It ain't just the wee ones that need friendship lessons. Is it so hard to love and tolerate? Or at least tolerate? C'mon.

Haha! Mostly commenting to say I do a double-take every time I see your sig. I got "Dunes" from my first World of Warcraft character, Dunesfara. Who I named right after re-reading Dune by Frank Herbert. Coincidence? Maaaybe. Or, y'know, not at all. "Dune" just sounds cool. But everyone called me "Dunes" for short. Even a couple of my guildies who ended up becoming RL friends once they moved to the area still called me Dunes. I did doodle up a little ponysona thing (the green critter with ginger hair in my avatar). Since she's a stand-in for me, I draw her with a cartoon version of my dog, and her cutie mark's a pawprint. One of my brony friends (who is incidentally one of said former guildies who called me Dunes for forever) suggested I name her Frou Frou, to go with the poodle. (And also give a shout out to Imogen Heap, whom I absolutely adore and used to be in a band called Frou Frou.) So, no, my username isn't named after my pony at all. I just wrote "Dunes" next to her picture 'cause it's my username.

Madame plodded along the path leading to her brother's house, sighing heavily. She was tired. She always seemed to forget how tiring the trip from Canterlot was. It looked so short, but there were so many winding paths, and it took a lot of effort to keep her heavily-laden cart from rolling out of control downhill. Hecate and Fang weren't any help, either. A cat and a bat – she should've picked a big, bulky, cart-pulling dog for a pet. Still, she needed to restock some of her mystical herbs, which were mostly plants that went “bamf” and made pretty-colored smoke when exposed to flame. Useless, but they impressed her customers. And someone had to look after her brother. He seemed to think he could do it himself, but Madame knew better. She'd left home when Clover was still a colt, and she never quite stopped thinking of him that way. Strands of her bedraggled mane kept escaping her bandanna and flopping in her face. She blew at her errant bangs in an attempt to get them out of her way. It was a futile effort. Squinting through her hair, she could just about make out a black pony. A stallion, and a curiously familiar one at that. Then she heard him speak. “Ace? What's he doing up in these parts?” She wasn't sure what to make of the situation. Perhaps he had some angle he was working in the area. Maybe he's being nice, she thought. She laughed at her own idea. Niceness was not a weakness often found in their dear family. Crack! Her cart hit a bump, and the harness pushed forward into her shoulders. She grimaced. Hecate mewled in protest. “If you don't like it, you can get out here and drive, cat.” Madame slowed down and the cart juddered to a stop. Tired, and not altogether in a good mood, she grabbed a package she'd put together for her brother. This time, someone carrying an ample supply of zap apple jam had stopped by to have his fortune told. His fortune included less zap apple jam, she knew that much. (Though she was still unsure exactly how Hecate had stolen any of them – the jars were at least half her size.) Still outside, she called into the door, voice muffled by the string of the package she was holding. “Ace? What are you doing down here?” She set her gift down, taking the opportunity to brush her mane out of her eyes. “Clover? You here?”

"Girl, you are late." Sapphire Shores grumbled to herself. She could've passed it off as being fashionably late, she supposed, but she hated missing any nanosecond of a party. It wasn't entirely her fault. There had been an unexpected snowstorm on her way back from a show in Stalliongrad – as if any snowstorm was really unexpected there. Arriving at the strand at two in the morning hadn't exactly been in her plans. She really ought not have stayed up until seven in the morning trying on different outfits the night before, however. She was lucky to have woken up when she did. But all of her outfits were so... so... old. Some of them she'd even worn twice. It simply wouldn't do, not when the eyes of Equestria were upon her. She eventually settled on a flashy little number that appeared to be half dress, half aluminum foil. The little grey dress flared up at the end, revealing what robot peacock feathers might look like, if robot peacocks existed. For no apparent reason, there was a large, sparkly triangle attached to the front of the dress. She had no idea why it was there, but it was strange, so she liked it. She was also hoping nobody noticed that this was what she'd worn on the first couple of nights of her first tour. She desperately needed some new outfits. She was looking forward to plowing through her bag full of bits and coming home with a trunk full of new couture. Her eyes were puffy with a lack of sleep, but once she set eyes on the mass of party ponies, a grin spread across her face. Fashion, fun, food, and... she couldn't think of a synonym for “drinks” that started with F. She trotted up to the pony with the clipboard, head held high, jaunty little black and white striped hat at a rakish angle. “Sapphire Shores, hon, and I am way past late.” Given the go-ahead, she nodded at the pair of bouncers. "Thanks, sweets." ((Shamelessly stealing Lady Gaga outfits? Yes, yes I am. Also, argh, not my best, but my dog recently nested on my laptop bag, complete with tablet inside, and now it only registers three out of four of my pen strokes. ))