#(hmm i should go back on working on it)

[amyriadfthings]

.

[dancedance-resolution]

i started a supercorp portrait of a lady on fire au like three years ago. i'm never going to finish it, but the writing style is pretty cool, so i want to share it. so um enjoy the prologue and a bit of chapter one?

---

Prologue. Bonnelles, France. 1786.

“First, my contours,” Kara said, her voice soft and level. She looked out upon the dozen or so young women, their eyes darting back and forth from their papers to Kara herself. “The outline,” she continued. The increasingly swift sound of scratching charcoal prompted Kara to further instruct, “Not too fast. Take time to look at me.” She paused. “See how my arms are placed.”

At that moment, Kara saw the painting.

She swallowed and took in a breath; she schooled her expression before letting out the air with a pathetically soft “My hands.” Her students’ gaze followed her verbal direction, now observing as Kara’s fingers curled with remembrance. Their own hands now began to sketch the slope of hers—the slope that had once coaxed breathy moans from a lover, the slope that had once created that very painting in all of its hollow longing.

Kara felt her heart rate accelerating, and her attempts at calming deep breaths only made her shoulders shake unsteadily. “Who brought that painting out?” Her eyes darted around, landing on each possible offender, as she tensed her core and adopted a stern countenance.

Every student dutifully turned to look at the work.

It was an especially young girl who finally lifted her hand. “I brought it. From the stock room. Should I have not?”

Kara’s “no” felt like a brick, its weight threatening to pry tears from her reddening eyes. So Kara took another swallow, a handful of blinks, a few more steadying breaths.

“Did you paint it?” the girl asked innocently. Nia, her name was? She stared at Kara, oblivious to the flood of sound overwhelming Kara’s mind and echoing in the cavern of her heart.

“Yes,” Kara uttered softly, the word barely audible as they fell from her lips. “A long time ago.”

Nia’s head snapped back to examine the painting once more. It stood on an old but sturdy easel, tattooed and scarred but still standing. The artwork itself was brooding, with a white sun bleeding into a dark vignette. Heavy clumps of clouds occupied the sky and caged some of the sun’s rays, so the fire burning behind the woman was bright enough in comparison to create a dragging shadow of her figure. The flames crawled up the back of her windswept dress, bringing sharp tension to an otherwise lulling, melancholy landscape.

“What’s the title?”

The sound of the sea began to swell in Kara’s head. Her lips trembled. Her body unwittingly swayed slightly. “Portrait of a Lady on Fire.”

---

Chapter I. The island of Brittany, France, and the surrounding sea. 1779.

Kara squinted into the distance, her face scrunching up a bit as she desperately tried to shield her eyes from the harsh glare of the sun on the water. For all its gorgeous teals and sparkling peaks, it certainly did make her wish for one of those brimmed hats the rowers were all wearing. With every one of their paced paddles, the cork-like little canoe bobbed haphazardly. Kara rather felt as if she were in the wine glass of a thoroughly drunken Marie Antoinette.

At least she wasn’t prone to seasickness.

She still felt quite unsteady, though, being thrown about and forced to pathetically grab onto the boat’s low walls. She leaned forward, trying to regain her balance and ground herself despite the absence of ground.

The wooden pallet holding her canvas was, apparently, as unstable as she was, and the next thing Kara knew, it had been lurched off of the boat like vomit from a drunkard. Kara watched helplessly as it thrashed among the choppy waves, the sea carrying it a few feet from the boat.

The chief rower met her desperate look with exhausted resignation; he ceased his paddling as Kara shed her overcoat and placed a precarious foot on the edge of the canoe.

With a strained creak from the boat’s wood, she jumped into the water, dress billowing behind her. Her first gasp for air upon emerging from the water was audible; she could feel the effort in her throat. Her arms moved in laborious little arcs as she slowly made her way towards the floating pallet and finally made a desperate reach for it. Kara’s fingers grasped onto a wooden board, and she pulled herself up onto it with a grunt.

---

The incessant wind upon the sea was certainly not helping Kara. Dripping wet, she wrapped herself up in her overcoat in a pitiful plea for warmth. She held the edges of the garment up to her lips, the sensation of the dry fabric bringing her some comfort as she closed her eyes and left herself to the mercy of the mighty sea.

But the interminable rocking of the feeble boat wouldn’t allow her any rest.

Kara wasn’t very religious, not anymore. Yet, the sight of the cliffs and coast of Brittany moved her to relieved prayer.

---

The sun had already begun to set as Kara trekked up the sandy coast. Her legs ached with every stumbling, unsure step—maybe she was a bit seasick after all—and her hands were tired of having to grip her full skirt to keep it out of her way.

She paused on the rocks, taking a moment to manually wring some of the water out of her skirt. She filled her lungs with an arduous breath before slinging the rope holding the pallet over her shoulder. Next came the fabric sling, which housed her trunk of personal items—she positioned it on her back with careful poise.

The journey up the cliffs and towards the trees was exhausting. Kara’s skirt required repositioning every few seconds, the rope was digging into her shoulder, and the pallet and trunk slammed into her back with each wobbling step. By the time she reached the straight path up to the residence, her breaths were heavy and pained, and the sun was nearly fully hidden beneath the horizon.

A soft light emanated from the windows above the mansion’s door, helping Kara feel a bit more secure as she knocked. A short blonde woman answered her summon and introduced herself with a flat “I’m Eve.” She opened the door a bit wider and gestured with her body for Kara to come in.

Eve held a small candle as she guided Kara up the stairs, the sounds of their shoes echoing through the grand yet starkly undecorated hallway. The walls of the stairwell were cement bricks, and the wrought iron bannister was rather plain and geometric.

They came to a stop in front of a similarly void room, bare save a few heavy curtains and a daybed. The raised panels along these walls matched the white-painted wood of the window frames, and they gave the chamber some elegant character.

While Eve entered the comparatively less intimidating room, Kara stayed back a moment, taking in the shafts of muted blue light from the windows and the contrasting warm glow of leaping flames from the central fireplace.

Eve crouched down to poke at the fire as Kara set down her belongings. “It was a reception room,” Eve explained. “Though I’ve never seen it used.”

The fire crackled pleasantly. “Have you been here long?” Kara inquired.

“Three years,” Eve answered, directing her attention back to the fire.

Kara peeled off her overcoat and draped it along the wainscoting. “Do you like it here?”

“Yes,” Eve said simply as she stood up. She turned to Kara, meeting her eyes now as her hands smoothed over her skirt. “I’ll let you get dry.” And with a nod, she was on her way.

Kara watched her every step.

Once the door closed, she hastily began removing her overskirt. It fell to the dark herringbone floor with an unglamorous thud.

---

There was no method or grace to the way Kara wrapped her hand around the rusting crowbar, but with a few jerks, she’d managed to successfully pry the top off of the pallet.

After setting down the wood cover, Kara extended her hand, letting it fall clumsily onto the slick canvas in front of her. It was still wet, and her hand’s small circular movement caused moisture to pool at her fingertips, as if her touch had beckoned the water. So her hand withdrew, and Kara slid the canvas out from its container. Her eyes danced over the surface as she considered how to dry it, holding it in front of herself like the Communion host of an evening Mass.

---

Kara decided to accompany her drying canvas, which was now positioned next to the fireplace. Stripped naked, she sat in front of the fire and pulled her legs towards herself—she was vulnerable, sitting there bare and in a new environment, and the action made her feel a bit more small, compact, and safe.

Kara set down her candle so she could light her tobacco pipe with the flames. Her large, smoky exhales grounded her, in a way, with the familiar sight and smell acting as a sort of sedative. And she stared forward, expression blank but unmistakably worn.

---

Kara walked barefoot along the cement floor, making her way through the hall and to the pantry room wrapped in nothing but her robe-like smock.

[biblicalhorror]

Thinking about one of the loser men I dated directly post-college who, after I showed them Dirty Computer [the emotion picture] by Janelle Monae, said they "prefer rap that has something to say"

[roobylavender]

i missed that class what dont you like about starlins rendition of their relationship?

(and also like, DID you think he did something in particular well or was it all…meh

the crux of my issues in this regard stems from batman #416. in the post-crisis era you began to see this way more lopsided depiction of bruce and dick's relationship wherein the former was portrayed to be almost.. bitter that dick had moved on to establish his own life. and it stood in great, great contrast to the bruce of the pre-crisis era, who was certainly devastated at the realization that dick was growing up, but also very intent for him to find his own happiness and way in life. they would have their disagreements on occasion (e.g., bruce initially disapproving of dick dropping out of college, bruce immediately taking leadership of a situation where the titans were involved when dick was better equipped to handle it, etc.) but the outcome of those situations was never outright bad yknow. bruce was very much capable of recognizing where he might have overstepped and subsequently stepped back to let dick have his own space. and i think initially max allan collins expanded on that dynamic in the post-crisis era in interesting ways by juxtaposing bruce's desire to see dick flourish against his own constant fear for dick's life. so instead of mike w. barr's comedic and lighthearted backup stories in early 80s tec where bruce disguised himself to keep an eye on dick's shenanigans and assure himself everything was going alright, you got this more serious confrontation within bruce with regards to his position as a parent. i don't think a lot of people read it that deeply but i've always viewed batman #408 as one of the most sensible depictions of that dilemma. the general complaints tend to be that this issue robbed dick of his pre-crisis decision to retire robin on his own, and i'll concede that as a worthwhile concern. but i don't think it's esp damning what with the implication that bruce no longer wants to be the person indirectly making the decision for dick to continue to be in this line of work. their moment at dick's bedside is less about bruce robbing him of the decision and more about him saying, if i let you still be robin, that's a direct reflection on me, bc i'm the one who got you to do all of this originally. i'm the one who put you directly in harm's way. if you're going to do this from now on, you need to do it on your own terms. you need to decide for yourself that this is who you want to be, without your relationship with me even being a factor.

it's a moment contributive to that delicious dynamic between them wherein every decision bruce takes to service dick's agency is inevitably read the wrong way by the latter to imply that he's not valued or not worthy of being seen as bruce's equal (and before the hounds pounce on me this obv does not include the increasingly abusive depiction of their relationship as the 90s progressed). that is an unavoidable dilemma when you're simultaneously someone's ward/adopted son and also their partner-in-crime! dick wants to be bruce's son and to be entitled to all of the love and care and protection that that entails but he also wants to be bruce's brother, his equal, his confidante, the one person he trusts more than anyone else in the world, etc. it's a tough place to be! it is paradoxical! and i'm so, so open to seeing that explored and think the way collins attempted to approach it in #408 was marvelous. but the way starlin (and other writers as well) totally swerved right in #416 to create this sudden resentment in bruce that dick had grown out of needing him was.. so utterly bizarre. like completely out of left field in a way i don't understand why people don't question it anymore bc in light of everything in the immediate fifteen years prior to the crisis it makes so little sense. their relationship with each other was so valued, bruce was so anxious to see dick establish himself while nonetheless maintaining a protectiveness over him, but it was all very much in good will even if he could overstep on occasion. it had all of the potential to allow for a very nuanced, empathetic exploration into the dilemmas of parenthood and esp when you are someone like bruce who has to forever live and contend with the crime of taking kids with him out onto the streets. bc he has to feel guilty! there is no escaping it. this is history, done and dusted forever, can't go back in time, so on and so forth. whatever harm comes any robin's way he has to live with as in some part being traceable back to his own actions. and i frankly believe that would be far more likely to evoke grief and anxiousness and concern than it would be bitterness that his son is charting out his own life

[keeps-ache]

everyday there's somethin goin on. like the day. or somethin like that

[icantbelieveitsnotdeviantart]

The Narrator is always watching

I went from knowing absolutely nothing about the Stanley Parable to finishing the game in like three days lol

[creativenicocorner]

THE PEER REVIEWED FIC TITLE RESULTS ARE I N !!

the winner is GLOW WORMS

also shoutout to @edarflyfor the realist tags I've seen while the poll was circulating haha

you were absolutely correct, I am boo boo the fool for not realizing sooner haha

BUT SINCE IM ALSO BISEXUAL IM GOING TO COMBINE THE BEST OF BOTH WORLDS AND UNNECESSARILY COMPLICATE MATTERS!!

so STEP ASDE Glow Worms [working title] and say hello to the official fic name:

Glow Worms or rather: In the Depths of the Safflower Hills

thank you to all who participated!!

[non-un-topo]

Considering taking a week off to try and get some energy back

[nightmarist]

bought a couple super cheap cotton sheets so i can start keeping draft patterns.

also bought a couple samples of some jacquard fabrics. i realllly want to make a raphael cosplay, but i also want to make a very sexy jerkin i can wear outside of cosplay.

i have some fabric stashed that i can make the doublet out of, but ill mess with a pattern when the cotton arrives.

[afterthegreatunknown]

asoue au (inspired by the six baudelaires au by @unfortunate-stranger-losers) involving book!quagmire triplets and netflix!quagmire triplets existing in the same universe as cousins because book!mr. quagmire and netflix!mrs. quagmire are siblings (book!mr. quagmire is adopted by netflix!mrs.quagmire’ parents). stuff that happens/is consider in this au:

book!quagmire fire happens first. book!quigley is thought to be dead in the fire for a year and a half (the replacement for three semesters, though i think a year and a half is three semesters proper), forcing book!duncan and book!isadora to live without their brother even longer. the twins comments hurt more now, because for almost a year and a half, from an outsider perspective, they do appear as twins, getting it more constantly.

due to the year and a half, book!quigley is more into vfd, being closer to a proper volunteer than he was in canon. book!quigley not reuniting with his siblings and getting an ‘apprenticeship’ was something approved of by the netflix!quagmire parents; by the time they learned of his survival. their family became targets. so it was best for book!quigley to stay separated.

(the revelations of the above has both sets of triplets losing their shit because ‘hey mom and dad/aunt and uncle what the f-’. netflix!quigley loses it the worst upon learning his cousin is alive. because while netflix!quigley is all up and interested in the vfd stuff, he doesn’t trust jacques as much as book!quigley, due to spending three weeks and a half vs. a year and a half.)

regarding the situation of the dorms and orphan shack, netflix!mr.quagmire was ready to sign the slips for both sets of triplets (because it’s time to get them into vfd training due to book!quigley’s situation). but the netflix!quagmire fire destroyed those slips. netflix!isadora -who now has the special interest in handwriting forgery- stole two slips from the office (she took it because she thought it would be important later), forged her dead father’s signature, and complained about how they did have their slips the whole time, but a lack of secretary had nero overlooking it (nero is rather apologetic).

the sack of flour is no more. book!duncan is klaus, netflix!isadora is violet, and book!isadora is sunny (she’s just crawling). netflix!duncan helps the baudelaires for their final exams because this kid is a real avid note taker compare to his sister and cousins. the poor boy cries his eyes out as he watches his sister and cousins get kidnapped at the end of taa.

netflix!isadora kisses klaus on the cheek, because she is bi and has a crush on him. she once had a crush on carmelita, but her personality + bullying got netflix!isadora going ‘NOPE’. book!isadora is a lesbian and never gets a crush on carmelita, and mocks netflix!isadora for it at times because ‘really? HER?’, the tables turn when it’s reveal book!isadora got a crush on violet. i guess i can say here book!quigley gets the romance with violet, while netflix!duncan keeps his minor crush on violet that goes nowhere (and one violet never learns about). book!duncan and netflix!quigley don’t have time for crushes; they have other things to focus on.

netflix!duncan is the first to understand the hansel and gretel reference because his special interest is history/folktales/fairytales (his interests has him needing to be an avid note taker, in his perspective at least). netflix!duncan also stays behind with his sister and cousins down in the shaft, so the quagmires disappearance worries the baudelaires even more.

book!isadora and netflix!duncan are throw out of the truck at the end of tee, because count olaf, esme, and the troupe realize they need one of each triplet set to get the full quagmire fortune. they kept book!duncan because he’s the eldest of his triplet siblings, and netflix!isadora because she’s mistaken for the eldest of her triplet siblings, and the bald man’s creepiness has book!duncan entering protective cousin mode and medical care.

netflix!quigley special interest is photography. astro-photography. the boy took so many photos of the night sky he knows enough about the stars and constellations, that after the two boys escape monty’s burning house, sometimes travel at night.

both sets of triplet cousins upon seeing fernald, jump and try beating the shit out of him. at least the duncans and isadoras. the quigleys are just watching from the sidelines because they don’t have that much beef with the man.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[fingertipsmp3]

Should I just write my cowboy falls in love with a werewolf idea. I’m starting to think it’s the only fun idea I’ve had recently

[sheliesshattered]

ah the eternal cosplayer struggle: which version of the show’s color grading do I take as canon?

[gothmods]

Next year will be my year somehow... i can feel it something good will happen

Or at the least next year will be the year i get that tattoo and the piercings ive been meening to get

But idk i just have a good feeling about it

[needsmustleap]

still thinking about that scene where emma and dexter have that fight in the restaurant. the palpable weight of those pauses

[fluffybunnybadass]

GOD it is so good and amazing to be back on adhd meds (ie adderall)

i have gotten more done this week(end) than i have in a year. i am literally so over the moon about this but i am also physically incapable of staying up to ride this out (also bc i wanna be able to do laundry tomorrow today)

but god. it is SO NICE to be back on top of things and not experiencing the perpetual debuff. it also helps that i got to start it again on my days off from work :)