#Creative Vanity

[rebeccablogs]

Alys Rivers Fan Board

[medicalunprofessional]

never change, man !

[artdecoandmodernist]

ART DECO OBJECTS From the Prince and Princess Sadruddin Aga Khan Collection. 

Vanity cases, powder compacts and cigarette boxes are the backdrop for refined decorative effects, executed on the miniature surfaces. To look at, these feminine accessories are veritable masterpieces of creativity, fantasy and technique. Made from gold or platinum, they are enriched with precious stones and gemstones, and covered in mother-of-pearl, enamel or lacquer. (x) 

The Myth of the East. CHINESE INFLUENCE: 

1) 1927 Cigarette Case by Cartier Paris.

2) 1928 Poppy Vanity Case by Janesich, Manufactured by Strauss, Allard and Meyer, Paris. 

3) 1930 Koi and Dragon Compact by Cartier Paris. 

4) 1927 Dragon and the Pearl Vanity Case by Cartier with mosaic by Vladimir Makovsky, Paris.

5) 1928 Mountain Landscape Vanity Case by Boucheron Paris. 

6) 1929 Vanity Case by Black, Starr and Frost Mosaic probably by Vladimir Makovsky. 

7) 1925 Panther Vanity Case by Cartier Paris.

[hanzajesthanza]

allowed myself the time to spend to write a scene because the fancy took me, ended up destroying my sleep schedule to write it, woke up at 4 pm just to realize it’s not good and i would need to redo it

[alexvnderblvck]

"Blue Dreams" by @alexvnderblvck

Feat. Megumi

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Lich-Queen, pt 6

(Fair warning: this is gory) If you want to read the rest of the series, you'll find links in the pinned post on my blog!

This time, my entry into the hall was triumphant, complete with fanfare. The highest nobles of Ceredell hauled the doors open like common slaves, and they pressed their once vibrant lips to trumpets. Hundreds of men and women turned at the sight of me, and a wave of clapping descended upon me. I flicked a manic curtsey, then gestured at the table before me, laid out as if for a buffet.

“Let me honour you all with a gift,” I announced. “Come, watch the death of the last nobleman of fallen Ceredell!”

A revenant wheeled Tamaris out. He was splayed on a board, arms spread apart. His face was white with agony, legs twisted. I tsked at him, inspecting his bonds. “Looks like your wings have crumpled, my butterfly,” I whispered. “I wish it could have been different.”

Tamaris met my eyes, and my half-dead heart crumpled to see the love in his gaze. “It is not too late, Ire,” he said. “Do not do this. Do not succumb.” His fingers twitched in my direction, an open hand offering forgiveness.

“It is you people who should apologise,” I hissed, slapping that hand. “I am taking my blood-right.” Turning to the audience, I said, “Let us begin our last course!”

Tamaris froze, finally understanding. I took the knife from Death-in-me, placing it along his chest. “I love you,” I said, loud enough for all to hear me. “And I will make you love me too.”

Then I began carving him alive. I started with the skin, peeling it from his ribs like lifting the skin off a potato. Tamaris howled in agony, his voice touching the heavens. My orchestra matched him, starting up an accompaniment of strings and bass.

Blood blossomed like a rose, painting my gloves crimson as I lovingly opened up his flesh for the world to see. His wings formed, dripping red as my butterfly of torment emerged from his chrysalis.

With my magic, I kept him alive beyond the bounds of humanity. As I hacked out his ribs, pulling the first hunk of meat and placing it on a plate, I was struck by the beauty of his face. Even weeping, eyes bulging, nails ripped off from clawing at wood, there was a noble gallance to him. I smiled, and tenderly tore out another rib.

His wails did not stumble, did not falter, even as the delicious scent of grilled Tamaris emanated from below my stage. I unravelled his intestines, the grey ropes spilling out, as the first of my new allies feasted on my love. His offal was affectionately wrapped around my arms, draped about me like a stole. Extracting his lungs, I regretfully turned his insides over to the grill for my guests.

His kidneys were next, laid out beside a leaky liver. With delicate care, I had left his heart framed in the hollow cave of his torso, like a singular rose in a vase. It pulsated and pumped, alien and oh-so-familiar.

Viscera dripped onto the floor with wet splotches, and I could not help but giggle. The power I held in my hands, to feast upon my own beloved's flesh, to create this masterpiece of butchery… It was, for lack of a better word, aortic.

I stuck my claws into his chest cavity and ripped out his heart, leaving him dependent on my necromancy to live. He was mine, once and for all. I raised my fist triumphantly, still-beating heart in my hands. The mass below me fell silent, the music fading, even Tamaris' ululations reduced to noiseless croaks.

“Know that I am Queen,” I announced to them, to my new allies. “I rule!” Words deserted me in my ecstasy, and I released a scream. It bounced off the walls and dug into my chest, no trace of the human I had once been within it.

My people let out a full-chested cheer, like the eruption of a volcano. A thousand voices held testament to my crown. I turned to Tamaris. His eyes begged me to stop this madness. 

Spoilsport.

I kissed him passionately, lips touching his, coaxing his tongue out. The rusty taste of his mouth made my dead heart race, a virgin on her wedding night. I closed my eyes, pulling him closer with an assertive arm. For one moment, we could be on the wedding altar.

But that moment ended. I closed my jaws on his tongue, sharp teeth severing it, and ripped it out. Blood gushed in the air as I gulped the slippery flesh down. “Ahh,” I sighed tenderly. Sensually, I ran my claws around the orbitals of his eyes, tracing his eyelid, probing at his eyeball. It popped out with breathtaking ease, and I devoured the gooey feast.

Placing his heart to my lips, I kissed it lovingly. My tongue delved into the gaping arteries, devouring it. Tangy flavour exploded on my tongue, and I basked in its divinity. 

Was there any act more intimate than cannibalism? I could not think of anything. Those haunted sockets of his, mouth hanging slack, gory and broken beyond repair, held a bond deeper than any ring or vow. 

This was true love. 

I threw my head and laughed. Snapping my fingers, I severed my magic and his bonds at once. My love fell like a ragdoll, discarded and worthless. The ghouls would fix up all the remnants and serve it to my guests.

As I began walking away, the last dregs of my humanity compelled me to stop. I turned back, grabbed the hollow of his throat lightly, and whispered, “Have your eternal peace, my love. ‘Tis the least you deserve.” 

[zariasona]

DWC - Day 6 - Vanity/Feelings

"Minn'da, what are you doing?" The young girl asked her mother who sat upon her vanity mirror, brushing her long black hair. She reached up trying to grab the other large brush so she too could brush her own hair. "Zari, dear, You can't reach that! Here- Let me just-" Leandra laughed loudly, grabbing hold of Zaria and setting her upon the vanity. The giggling young girl beamed up at her mother finally reached for the brush and attempted to mimic her mother. "Men, dearest Zari, want a woman who appears perfect. So we must -never- slouch, slurp our food, lap up our drinks. We are to be the epitome of perfection in their eyes." Leandra said. "What is a pit-o-me?" Zariasona asked, trying her best to use the oversized brush to tend to her hair. Leandra laughed loudly at her attempted saying of the word. "In otherwords, We are to be the definition of perfection. We are to be perfect women in the eyes of men."

Zaria nodded up at her vigourously. "I can do that, Minn'da. I want to be just like you when I get big!" The mother nodded excitedly. "I know you will, dearest child. You, and your sisters, will grow up and become the -finest- women in Quel'thalas. You, and Sissy, and Kinnie. Men will fawn all over you, and I am sure you'll have to bat them off with sticks!" She was now howling in laughter. It wasn't long before the other two younger girls barreled into the room. "Minn'da!! Kinnie is hitting me again!!" Sisendra howled out. "I am not, Sissy! I was just trying to brush your hair!" Kinadra said. Leandra sighed deeply. "Girls, Girls! Calm down! Please don't be fighting! It's so unladylike!" In unison the girls spoke: "Yes Minn'da." Leandra nodded approvingly, setting Zaria back down upon the ground. "Tomorrow, Ladies, we'll learn some more about what it means to be of noble blood. More ettiquette, alright? We'll do tea." The three sisters jumped in joy, and freely offered their giggles. In sporadic moments, the girls uttered a final, "Thank you, Minn'da!"

@daily-writing-challenge

[artemlegere]

“Books are not about passing time. They’re about other lives. Other worlds. Far from wanting time to pass, one just wishes one had more of it.” ~ Alan Bennett

Creative Art • Between Petals and Pages • Thierry Lechanteur

[novlr]

📚 Let's explore publishing options!

There are three main routes to getting your book in front of readers; traditional publishing, self-publishing, and vanity presses. In today's Reading Room post, we'll weigh pros & cons to help you find your path.

[crmsnmth]

Trendy Hipsters

She clings to attention as if it's the air she breathes Nothing's going well, unless all eyes are on her The matriarchy is just has bad at the patriarchy it's still kings, queens and peasants And she's ready to night any horse she can ride That blades a bit too sharp for this

She plays the latest fashion craze as long as it's in black Got to look the role of that nineties punk pagan fashion Fishnets and rosaries, and a chant to the west How do you base your entire religion on a movie? She rides the trends like an express way Feed her the next line, let her get ahead of the pack That way she can tell everyone how great they were At least before they got big

She likes the taste of the bad boys the ones with anger problems and mommy issues the guys crying after a few shots of whiskey slip down She calls it clay, and begins to right her mold Her fingers mapping out the identity she seeks Every religion was a cult at some point and her followers watch her human sacrifice to the gods Destroy his personality using nothing but sexual organs

She knows how to make anyone love her Somehow always knowing exactly what to say As long as she's involved in the stories she shares As long as she can talk about herself As long as she can masturbate in vanity

You stole that line for American Horror Story. The season with all the witches,

[arlathen]

there is so much about me when taken out of context that makes me believe i was destined to be someone's favorite professor.

[rebeccablogs]

Date Night With Aegon Targaryen,What Would You Wear To The Wine Room Quarters Date 🌹

The Wine Room Quarters Date 🌹 Hello Everyone and I am at it again with my characters style boards. I want your feedback,tell me which outfit would you choose for a date with Prince Aegon Targaryen from House of The Dragons,leave me a comment on which outfit you would wear here on my blog, Instagram or Tumblr. You are in your living room and there is knock on the front door, it’s Sir Christian…

[wildwithlight]

The danger of civilization, of course, is that you will piss away your life on nonsense.

- Jim Harrison

[alwayslcyal]

josh and ?? –- love for a shipping whore

[unravelingwires]

Vanity

Here’s the thing about preening: it’s always a little performative, and it’s always a little personal.

I love myself. I love the way my hands wrinkle when I curl my fingers. I love how my hair catches the light as I comb it back. I love the sound of my nails, the uneven click-click-lick of restless thought.

Arrogance is a folly, and selfishness is a scar, but vanity? Vanity is a girl arranging the ruffles of her dress, a woman smoothing color over her eyes. Vanity is spinning, arms out, skirt unfurling in perfect waves. Vanity is catching sight of your reflection and thinking, “oh.”

Every morning, I hang jewels from my ears and rub polish into my skin. I am a Shakespearean witch, eyes in the future and voice in the present. I am a goddess, great and terrible, with tree bark flesh and mountainous bones. I am my mother, and her mother, and hers, a lineage of work and ambition from a land unknown. Here is a woman’s world. Here is where I stand in it.

Vanity is an art. You look at yourself, at chapped lips and rough skin, and find perfection. You see your mirrored face and learn awe. You stand and become yourself.

So here’s the sin: a woman smooths silk over the steel in her eyes, in her shoulders, in the curve of her hip and the spike of her heel. Here’s the sin: she smiles.

[bellamontwasright]

"I took it with a pinch of salt. We both know how our mutual friend was. Sweet man, prone to misplaced faith. Shame, what happened. Yet! Here we are, whole and happy and smiling together once more. Lucky you!"

Joanelle Edwene, attempting to provoke Sam Guevenne into revealing himself in a crowded tavern.