#License Photo Studio

[archiveofaffinities]

Walker Evans, License Photo Studio, New York, New York, 1934

[toomanysubcultures]

drawing a marvel every day pt 6: mj watson

[krutodesign]

Creative Commons License. Terms of use of our website publications

The KRUTO design studio website publishes materials about our daily work, as well as tips on choosing T-shirts, recommendations for caring for T-shirts, and reviews of T-shirt fashion trends. We hope that these publications will be interesting and useful for you, your friends and acquaintances.

You can freely use publications from our site to develop your blogs and social networking pages based on the provisions of the Creative Commons License.

This means that you are welcome to share, adapt, and redistribute our content as long as you give proper credit to KRUTO design studio and adhere to the terms of the specific Creative Commons License associated with each piece of content.

We believe that sharing knowledge and information is a crucial part of fostering creativity and helping individuals make informed choices about their fashion preferences. By providing a variety of articles and resources related to T-shirts, we aim to empower our readers to make informed decisions when it comes to selecting, wearing, and caring for their T-shirt collections.

Here's a glimpse of what you can find on our website.

Work Insights. Get an exclusive behind-the-scenes look at our design process, from concept to creation. Learn about the inspirations and techniques that drive our talented team to produce unique T-shirt designs.

T-Shirt Selection Tips. Discover how to choose the perfect T-shirt that suits your style, body type, and occasion. We provide guidance on selecting the right fabric, fit, and design to ensure you look your best.

T-Shirt Care Recommendations. Extend the life of your favorite T-shirts with our expert care tips. From washing and drying techniques to proper storage, we share advice on maintaining the quality and longevity of your T-shirt collection.

Fashion Trend Reviews. Stay ahead of the curve with our fashion trend reviews. We keep you updated on the latest T-shirt fashion trends, colors, and patterns so you can stay stylish and on-trend.

Feel free to explore our website and dive into the world of T-shirts. Whether you're a fashion enthusiast, a casual T-shirt wearer, or someone looking to enhance their fashion knowledge, our platform is designed to cater to your needs.

If you find our content valuable and wish to share it with your audience, please remember to credit us appropriately, and, if possible, include a link back to the original article on our website. Your support helps us reach a wider audience and continue to provide informative and engaging content.

We encourage you to connect with us on social media to stay updated with our latest publications and interact with our community of T-shirt enthusiasts. Your feedback and comments are always welcome, as they help us improve and tailor our content to your interests.

Thank you for choosing KRUTO design studio as your go-to resource for all things.

[sisselkalle]

affinity designer has been a joy to work with, the only mild annoyances i have with it are:

1) there seemingly isn't a symmetry/mirror tool when working with the vector side of things

2) i apparently can't merge multiple vector layers together, which is a major thorn in my side

the program's definitely worth the 70$, though

[lieslab]

Where's my love?

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Chan X afab reader

Summary: Unannounced and unplanned, you leave your boyfriend, but when he finds you again, things have changed drastically.

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 2.7K

~ Part 2 ~

_ _ _

The sky grew dark again and that meant another night of suffocation for Chan. Another night of looking at the moon and hoping somewhere in the city of Seoul, you were looking at it too. In theory, the moon is all he has left of you. 

Every time he called your name, the quiet halls haunted him. Each time he dialed your number, the same automatic and robotic voice caused his heart to quiver; a threat to burst at the seams. The texts never fell through. You blocked his number weeks ago. No matter how hard he’d tried, he’d never get through. 

The worst thing about loving someone is putting your heart on a line. Handing someone a loaded gun and trusting them not to pull the trigger. The evenings used to fill with shared laughter. Your smile that he thought could harness his own happiness forever. 

As long as you stayed, his confidence grew. Those what-if thoughts turned into a reality. You provided a stable structure for the foundation of his heart. Any time he had doubts or the fears became too large, he found himself finding hope again between your hands. With his cheeks pressed against your hands, the reassuring sound of your voice, he never thought he’d have to live without it. 

He knew he had his flaws. Everyone had their flaws, but he never thought those flaws drove a wedge between the two of you. Life turned into a balancing act. Everything went well and when it fell apart, he thought you trusted him enough to open up. 

Whether that had been a lie or if he hurt you in a way that he couldn’t understand, he didn’t know. You didn’t give him a chance to explain. In the middle of a silent night, Chan stayed in the studio to finish up a beat. 

At your shared home, tears laced your eyes. In a panic and disbelief, you threw your clothes into an open suitcase. The clothes, the toiletries, and your favorite photo of the two of you. You snatched the small black frame and threw it into your suitcase, hoping it wouldn’t bend. 

Driving home from the studio, exhaustion laced Chan’s head. Purple bags smeared beneath his eyes. For a brief moment, he thought he saw a glimpse of your car. The first few numbers of the license plate matched yours, but exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. 

He didn’t realize your side of the closet turned empty. He didn’t take notice of your missing shoes. He went directly into your room, collapsed on the bed, and fell asleep assuming you were in the bathroom. It wouldn’t be anything new for you. With a small bladder, you always had to go. 

The horrendous truth wouldn’t hit him until the next morning. _ _ _ 

In the morning, blue birds sang. The only woodpecker living in the backyard filed away at a tree with a sharp beak. A mirage of morning colors swept across the bustling city. Chan rolled over, expecting to get his hands on you, but you weren’t there. 

In a sleepy haze, his eyes half-opened and he glanced around the room. A faint light filtered through the laced curtains. He squinted, looking around trying to figure out where you were, wondering if you were up making breakfast. Sometimes you woke up early, but other times, you stayed in bed past noon. 

He never knew what the mornings would bring with you. Tender touches, quick kisses, and the rest unraveled into a mystery. Would the two of you argue over the simplicity of pancakes or waffles? The age old question that you always fought over. 

Perhaps, the morning would end with him wrapping you in his arms and refusing to let you go. He’d hold you hostage and appreciate you more than you’d ever know. While you swear, he’d laugh and squeeze you tighter. Promising, vowing, and praying that none of this would ever change. 

For a few more seconds, a few more minutes, another hour, the two of you would stay side-by-side. Two hearts beating for one another through thin, stretched skin. Two halves of a whole, being forced to separate for society’s standards, before the two of you could reunite again. 

He shoved himself up, ran a hand through his messy curls, and started to search for you. He called your name, rubbed his eyes, and padded out into the living room. The TV remained silent. Your shoes weren’t parked on the usual rug beside the door. The hooks holding your house and car keys remained empty. Two golden hooks without their usual objects. A house without a beating heart. He assumed you went out to get breakfast, but the messages remained unread. 

Having to go back to work, he sent you a final text. One final text that you didn’t gather the courage to read until hours later. Hours too late. You were already miles away. You whispered the words, pretended he was reading them off to you, but you never responded. Instead, you hit the block button. 

A heavy heart, eyes swollen with tears, maybe one day he’d understand, but you had to do what was best for the both of you. 

Even if it nearly killed you in the process. 

_ _ _ 

Four years, seven months, and two days. 

That’s how long it took before the two of you stumbled into each other again. The first months hurt and the wounds on each of your hearts grew raw. You bled endlessly, but what more could you do? Everything always fell apart before it could come back together again. 

You still kept up to date with Chan’s band. You bought every album and listened to every song. Woven through the lyrics of his song, a man mourned. He bled guilt. He pleaded for his lover’s return, but it never led to anything. 

Those first few weeks, he searched for you everywhere. With a photo of you, he went into your favorite places, desperately holding up your smiling face to employees, begging to know if they had seen you. Nobody ever did. You faded into the abyss, but his feelings for you never did. 

You vanished like a ghost. You haunted him at all the wrong times. Your missing presence caused the band to go on hiatus for three months. Nobody could make music when their leader was mourning. 

The guys tried to call you. They tried hunting you down. Chan even tried to contact your parents, but no matter what it did, it was a lost cause. The only thing that gave him hope was your best friend. 

At a loss, he appeared on their front doorstep in tears. Begging and pleading to know if you were okay. They promised you were, swore to him that it’d make sense one day, and shut the door. It never made any sense until today. 

The guys wanted his father’s lamb. His father was in Australia and he knew it’d never be as good as his father’s, but he tried to recreate it anyway. The guys had worked non-stop over the past six months. Their latest album sat at the top of the charts for seven weeks in a row and they were hoping it’d stay there for a while. 

Your disappearance caused his heart to ache, but it grew less now. Time heals all wounds and this one was no different. Deep down, he always hoped he’d be able to see you again, but he accepted that your disappearance was final. He’d never get the closure and that stung, but what else could he do?

In a face mask and a baseball hat hiding his face, he heard your voice first. A pack of raw lamb sat in his hand. Debating how many packs to buy, he thought he might have finally lost it. 

“No, no, no. What did I say? We can’t poke the raw meat’s plastic. If our fingers go through it, we can get sick. We don’t want that, do we?” 

Your voice wasn’t harsh, but rather a gentle compassion. He spun around to find you grabbing the hand of a small toddler and coaxing them away from the raw meat. His heart fluttered against the side of his chest. 

There you were. Your hair grew longer, but the bags beneath your eyes remained the same. Tucked in a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, you chose your comfort over society’s peer pressure to look your best all the time. He thought he might drop to his knees. 

“Do you want to sit in the cart? We’re almost done and then we can go back home. Grandma is waiting for us. It’s supposed to snow later. We need to get back to her house before the storm starts.”

Your hands reached out, but their head shook. Black hair bobbed and sat in waves around her small shoulders. Dressed in a pink fluffy coat and fur-lined winter boots, her little foot stomped. “No!” 

“Come on, honey, let’s-” 

The little girl spun around and took off running. Not realizing how close the stranger was, she dashed into Chan’s legs. He gasped and reached down to steady her. 

Your eyes widen. “I’m so sorry! She can be a handful and-” Your cheeks went red as you hurried forward to grab her. 

The girl’s head tipped back, trying to see who she ran into. Chan reached up and gently pulled his mask down. The girl gasped and grinned. Two dimples and a mouthful of baby teeth. “Daddy!” 

“No, honey. This isn’t-” As your eyes met Chan’s, your world stopped. “Bang Chan?” 

“Daddy!” The little girl squealed again. Her tiny arms wrapped around one of his legs. 

He had so many questions for you, but they didn’t come out. Instead, his gaze fell onto the child at his feet. The same brown eyes as his. The same dimples. Looking at her reminded him of the childhood photos of himself. 

She had your smile, but from what he could see, everything else was from him. She cooed and pressed her head into his leg. “I like your music. Makes me dance.” 

“Honey,” you pleaded again quietly. “Come on, I’m sure he’s busy and-” 

“Is this why you left me?” The words fell out before he could stop them. “Is she really my daughter?” 

You blinked rapidly, trying not to cry. Coming back to Seoul had been a terrible idea, but your mother lived here. You couldn’t just stay away from her forever. You knew there was a chance you’d run into Chan when you were back, so you went to the places you thought he never visited. Apparently, times had changed over the years. 

“Can we talk about this somewhere else?” 

“So you can leave me again?” He asked. Sadness laced his voice and your heart squeezed with pain. You hadn’t meant to cause him any harm, but you knew you had. 

You glanced around, making sure the two of you weren’t being eavesdropped on. Realizing it, he tugged up his face mask again, so nobody could recognize him. Your eyes slipped shut and then they reopened. 

“I left you because I was pregnant. It was a stupid thing to do, I know. Deep down, I was terrified you’d want to stop making music. I couldn’t ask you to pick between leaving your band and being a father.” 

“So you just left without a good-bye?” 

“It was cowardly, but I was afraid. I was afraid of everything. I didn’t know if I was going to go through with the pregnancy. I didn’t know if you wanted me to keep the baby. I didn’t know a lot of things. By leaving, it was easier than forcing you to choose.” 

“I have a daughter?” 

“Her name is Odette.” You stepped around the grocery cart, bent down, and picked her up. “I know that I’ll never be able to-” 

“Odettie Berry!” Odette squealed. “That’s me!” 

“Berry?” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. “You couldn’t be there when I named her. I felt awful when Berry died. I know how much you loved her, so I just…” 

The hurt grew indescribable. Your actions had been those of a coward, but knowing that you named your daughter after the dog he loved the most, it was touching. Odette Berry was perfect. 

He reached down and placed the grocery basket on the ground. “Can I hold her?” You nodded and gently handed her to him. 

She smelled like a faint mixture of baby powder and lavender. Her rounded head dipped forward. Her chin pressed against his shoulder and caused him to smile. A loud yawn pulled at her lips. You blinked rapidly, trying not to cry again. 

To her, her father was not a stranger. You let her watch every new Skzoo Code video. Every new song, the two of you listened to together. No matter the distance you put between you and Chan, you still made sure she knew who her father was. 

“Come back home,” Chan whispered pleadingly. “She’s my daughter, too.” 

“I don’t want to cause any issues.” 

“I still have the apartment. The spare bedroom is empty. I still have all of your stuff that you left behind. You can’t just keep her hidden away from me now that I know she exists.” 

“Wolf Chan,” Odette mumbled as her eyes drooped. 

“She knows about Wolf Chan?” 

“Daddy’s plushie.” 

You cursed softly beneath your breath and scrambled through the items in the cart. “He’s in here somewhere.” You pushed aside the bread and eggs. Digging through the cold meat, you finally found him. “She can’t sleep without him.” You held it out to Chan. 

He grabbed it and brought it towards your daughter. “Is this who you’re looking for? Wolf Chan?” 

“Mmhm.” 

He smiled at her sleepy voice and tucked it beneath her arm. “There you go. You can sleep tight now, little one. Wolf Chan is here to save the day. You’re safe in Daddy’s arms.” 

You sniffled and wiped at the tears, trying to stop them. He paused when he said you. “Sorry,” you whispered. “I’ve been hoping you’d accept her, but I-I didn’t know. She loves you and the guys so much.” 

“She knows about the guys?” 

“Of course, I’ve told her about her uncles. Do you really think I’d never tell her? She has all of their plushies too. They line her bed and she can’t sleep without them. I think she loves Seungmin and Felix the most.” 

“Seungmin?” 

“She finds his bullying funny.” 

“You’re raising our daughter to be a Seungmin junior?” 

“No!” Your head shook rapidly. “I said she likes Felix too. She loves to help me bake. Just you wait, she tries to make beats like you too. Back home, she’s constantly tapping away at the kitchen table. I think she’s like you more than you’ll ever know.” 

“Please come back home.” 

He reached an arm out towards you. Without hesitation, you hurried over and wrapped your arms around him. Your shoulder lightly pressed against your daughter. For a few moments, the world stopped, and the missing pieces realigned. 

Your cart of groceries sat abandoned behind you. Chan’s struggle for lamb seemed like a minor inconvenience more than anything. The guys wanting lamb brought him back together with you and his daughter. 

Odette Berry curled into his shoulder and cuddled a Wolf Chan plushie. This morning, his biggest challenge of the day was finding enough lamb. Now it was figuring out how to adjust to life with a child. 

No matter how upset your actions made him, no matter how much it hurt; he understood it now. No matter how much he wished you would have picked better choices, it was far too late. Things finally aligned in his favor and that was all that mattered now. 

Four years, seven months, and two days. That’s how long it took him to find you again. Despite that, a lifetime of memories now awaited him. New memories with his daughter. He’d have to figure out how to tell the guys that he had a kid. 

His ghost had finally been found and that was the best gift anyone could ever give him. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @danihwang882 @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

[minkieater]

most to least likely to have polariods of you in their wallet and what positions would you be in 🤭

POLAROID LOVE ₊˚ෆ ATEEZ OT8

what a positively delicious ask i adore you so much for this incredible idea and now im sick to my stomach thinking about it MAN i fucking love ateez. nsfw clearly minors stay away from me

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎 ෆ

feeding my possessive dominant freak jongho agenda with this btw but he def has three polaroids of u that he keeps in his wallet. first one is you kneeling in front of him with his two middle fingers in your mouth, second is you face down ass up while you peek your head around to the camera in black lacy lingerie, and the other is you between his legs with his cock buried in your throat. he curses people out if they go near his wallet btw

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆 ෆ

joong def has a faceless pic of your body chest to thighs but ass naked in his wallet, he has it where his license should be (the clear part of a wallet u know what i mean) and he looks at it ALL the time. on tour, whenever he’s about to pay for anything, when he’s at the studio, has jerked off to it countless times. he took it for this purpose too its all artsy and shit like a black and white photo with his necklace dangling around your neck FUCK i love him. bites people if they go near his wallet btw

𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐎 ෆ

hear me out. its a picture of your face covered in his cum, mouth hanging open, hair everywhere, stuck to your face, mascara running down your cheeks and his fucking HAND gripping your jaw to hold it open with VISIBLE PRESSURE, one finger dipped inside your lips all messy. drool probably all over your chin too. can you picture it im freaking the fuck out actually he definitely took it after you gave him head but he made himself cum and then whipped out the camera. keeps it tucked away but looks at it more often than he should. defo in public like a lot. other members have probably accidentally seen it bc he stares at it so much. you just look so pretty

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆 ෆ

hahahahahahahahaha man im insane its a picture that YOU took, you’re riding him and its angled from above your chest, your naked body with your pelvis pressed to his, his v line peeking at the bottom FUCK you can’t see that his cock is buried inside you but he knows, your chest is honestly majority of the polaroid, he wrote my rider at the bottom and dated it like it’s a time capsule. damn fuck hes so hot the picture is so hot he keeps it tucked in one of the sleeves of his wallet and doesn’t honestly care if anyone sees it, doesn’t bark or bite if anyone looks at his wallet, everyone knows what yall get up to

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐌��𝐍𝐆𝐈 ෆ

its him hitting it from the back guys please sue me. you’re face down ass up, hair sprawled across the mattress, fisting the sheets, and mingi’s halfway inside you when he took the picture, his stomach pelvis and cock caught in the polaroid and he thinks its the hottest shit ever. probably showed yunho like ‘look at this isnt this so fucking sexy’ but otherwise keeps it tucked away, and probably isnt letting anyone come close to his wallet anyways. probably has sweat dripping down his tummy and your back is probably glistening with a sheen of sweat from the sesh bruh my toes are curling thinking about it

𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐆 ෆ

it’s blurry and black and white, but its a picture you took in the mirror after a shower, hair wet and stuck to your body, chest on full display in the mirror, a dog tag (sorry) with his name on it laying on your sternum between your tits. he feels so scandalous having it in his wallet he def only whips it out when he’s alone, has probably accidentally came on it in a hotel bed after a show, probably keeps it in a black sleeve so if anyone DOES come across it they cant see it

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐍 ෆ

i feel like san would be scared to have a full nude of you in his wallet so its probably a picture of you with his white tee on, a black lacy thong, your thumb is holding up the tee so you can only get a glimpse of your panties peeking out the side. he still thinks it’s the sexiest thing ever and is proud to have it in his wallet, keeps it in the clear part because its not that scandalous, and if someone does see it he can show you off and talk about how sexy you are and he loves that. my traditional sannie pants Fuck i love him

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐖𝐀 ෆ

as much as seonghwa is a freak i don’t think he’s keeping anything particularly scandalous in his wallet in fear that someone would see like i dont think he’s taking any chances tbh. he’d probably just keep a picture of your pretty face in there. but if YOU slipped something in his wallet… it’d be a posed picture of you in red lingerie, angled to be mainly your ass with your head turned to look into the camera, hair perfectly laid and makeup deep and sultry. when he sees it in there he definitely gets beet red and takes it out but by the fourth time of you finding it and putting it back in there he gives in and keeps it (unless he’s going somewhere with all the boys. he’s not taking any chances.)

masterlist

[custardtartsfan]

Jason Todd uses a flip phone. No he will not upgrade.

a little bit proofread! youd think the child of an ESL teacher would know whats up but youd be wrong! anywho this is vv off the dome and i didnt exactly know how to end it so please tell me if you feel like it flows right i appreciate any and all feedback very dearly ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

“Jay!” his partner calls from the other side of his apartment, making their way from the kitchen to where he was cleaning his guns in the living room. A very ritualistic process for him. They're all uniformly laid out on his coffee table (which he did not own before getting into a relationship, shout out the wife) , unassembled and being very carefully cleaned with a level of precision you seldom see outside of scientific glass blowers. Hes locked in

“What?” Jason looks up from his gun cleaning ritual 

“Can i borrow your phone? I wanna order food” they smiled, leaning over the back of his couch

“Whats wrong with yours?” he asks, “dead” y/n replied simply, and Jason reaches into his pocket with minimal grumbling

Jason was not a fan of technology, as a rule. He thinks its evil. He doesn't have any social media, does not watch any tv that isn't the news, and doesn't particularly like having his photo taken on anything digital. But still, none of that knowledge about their boyfriend couldve prepared y/n for being presented with a tomato red  Motorola RAZR V3 Flip Cellphone after it was dug out of Jasons cargo pants

“...what the fuck is this” they gawked at him. They hadnt been together all that long, but long enough that y/n feels that they should have noticed this piece of ancient history in his possession

“What?” Jason replied casually, unclear why they were looking at his phone like that “you have my phone no? Order your food” he said while getting back to the gun cleaining 

“Im- what is this?? Jason, be serious” y/n said, still absolutely rubbernecking at the phone. They went around the couch to look him in the eyes

Jason made a face “im being serious, order your food” he rolled his eyes at his partners ridiculousness. 

“Jason.” y/n gawped “look me in the eyes and tell me this is your actual primary cellphone.” they said, leaning down to look their boyfriend in his soul. Jason furrowed his brows

“Thats my phone. Why is this a big deal? I dont like apples and samsongs. Or whatever” Jason responds, puting down the half put together glock hes cleaning to cross his arms and lean back against the couch 

“My phone number is in this. You answer my texts from this thing??” they asked, still holding out hope this was a really stupid elaborate prank. From their boyfriend. Who had the driest sense of humor on the- okay yea he wasnt joking

“Yes??” he said incredulously, looking at his partener like they were being unreasonable. Actually- they were being unreasonable. It was a razr phone, not some far future star wars trans communicator. y/n needs a second to think about this

They plop themselves onto the couch next to their boyfriend, staring at the ceiling

“You really are a drug dealer” they murmured. Jason snorted

Jason snorted. “Below the belt” he retorts, snickering as he went back to his gun cleaning. Locked in. clear eyes, full hearts, cant lose.

“You need an actual phone” y/n states, like its the word of god. No protests will be tolerated, this studio apartment is not a democracy. Jason makes a face.

“I dont trust that shit” he murmured, continuing his surgical precision glock cleaning. y/n tilted their head

“Whys that?” they questioned. Jason scoffed, like its obvious

“ ‘don't want the government knowing my business” Jason loured

“Don't want-” y/n looked at him, in his soul “Jason. Whats a drivers license?”

Jason scoffed, smiling since hes won the argument now,in his own mind at least “i dont have one” he said triumphantly. y/ns eyes widened to the size of frisbees. They'd been in a car he was driving. Many times. Yesterday actually

“What the fuck d’you mean you dont have a drivers license??” “i never got one” he answered simply, like that was chill 

“Im- yes i get that. But you drive!” they argued, turning their body to fully face their insane boyfriend

“Well yea,obviously�� jason rolled his eyes. y/n guffawed at him

“You're- a prolific criminal” they murmured, deciding not to question it anymore. He dresses up like red riding hood grew up and transitioned and got REALLY into body building. He used to kill people. Hes literally cleaning his multiple unregistered firearms in front of them. 

“Does the pope shit in the woods?” Jason retorts. y/n and jason stared at each other for a second 

“not what that means” “yea not what that means”

.𖥔 ܁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ fun with formatting! i like the coloured text but i wish the shades weren't so jarring. i also find the images incredibly annoying to format properly but maybe im just being dense i dunno. the drivers license bit was inspired by my co worker because she too doesn't have a drivers license and yet owns a car and drives it and isnt in jail yet. you go icon

also the term wife is used GENDER NUTREALY !!1! i wanted an actual gender neutral term for nuptial partner but nothing hits like wife does imo. anyways tysm for reading! i love you sleep well ₍ᐢ._.ᐢ₎♡ ༘

[probablyasocialecologist]

Earlier this week, OpenAI launched its new image generation feature, which is integrated directly into ChatGPT and allows users to input more complex instructions for editing and organizing the presentation of the output. The first big viral trend to come out of the new service was users turning photos of family vacations, historical events, and pop cultural images into animated stills in the style of Studio Ghibli films. (The whole thing was a bit of a throwback to the heady days of 2023 when you would see AI influencers sharing photos of famous figures in the style of Wes Anderson films or whatever.) ChatGPT let users “Ghibilify” the images, so we got Ghiblified Hawk Tuah girl, Ghiblified Elon Musk (obviously), and so on. The issue here should be obvious. I won’t pretend to know exactly how Miyazaki thinks about modern generative AI systems—the tool he was commenting on was a cruder prototype—though one might venture to argue that he’d feel even more strongly about tools that further automate human art with greater ease, and often drive it further into the uncanny valley. Regardless, the man on record with likely the strongest and bluntest disavowal of using AI tools for art, is now the same man whose notoriously painstakingly handcrafted art is being giddily automated by ChatGPT users for what amounts to a promotional campaign for a tech company that’s on the verge of being valued at $300 billion. Sam Altman, OpenAI’s CEO, not only participated, changing his X avatar to a ‘Ghiblified’ self portrait, but insisted that this was the plan all along. Which in turn raises the specter of copyright infringement. Speaking to TechCrunch, a copyright lawyer very diplomatically said that while it’s unlikely infringement to produce images in the style of a studio, it’s “entirely plausible” that OpenAI’s models were trained on millions of frames of Ghibli films. He noted that it’s still an open question whether or not that in fact violates current IP law, or constitutes fair use, as the tech companies argue. On that front, judges recently dealt tech companies a blow, ruling in favor of Thomson Reuters that a pre-ChatGPT AI system was creating images that competed with the original material, and thus was not in fact fair use. OpenAI and Google, meanwhile, are desperately trying to win this battle, appealing to the Trump administration directly, and going so far as to argue that if they’re not allowed to ingest copyrighted works into their training data, China will beat the US in AI. Now, if—and of course this is a whopping if—OpenAI had consulted Studio Ghibli and its artists on all this, if those artists had consented and say reached a licensing deal before the art and frames from their films were ingested into the training data (as is pretty apparently the case), then look, this would indeed be a bout of generally wholesome fun for everyone involved. Instead, it’s an insult.

[...]

OpenAI and the other AI giants are indeed eating away at the livelihoods and dignity of working artists, and this devouring, appropriating, and automation of the production of art, of culture, at a scale truly never seen before, should not be underestimated as a menace—and it is being experienced as such by working artists, right now.

27 March 2025

[indigosfindings]

ok here's my timeline of egyptian koopa/king tut Notable Events, mostly to sate my own desire for one

AUG 2000: paper mario is released for the n64, debuting the character tutankoopa

SEPT 2002: adrian barritt & richard horrocks found fuse games (later renamed silverball studios)--not long thereafter, they pitch mario pinball land (aka super mario ball) to nintendo and are greenlit (source)

AUG 2004: mario pinball land launches in japan, followed by an autumn release elsewhere. the boss of its desert world--a pharaoh-themed koopa (video)--goes unnamed in the game. a page (author uncredited) on the official japanese promo guide site for pinball land calls it ボスノコノコ ("boss nokonoko", i.e. "boss koopa"--this follows a similar convention to the jp names for big bully, sunshine's wiggler, petey piranha, & others)

SEPT 2004: a walkthrough on gamefaqs by user qqwref refers to that boss as "tutankoopa"--afaict this is the first time anyone has publicly referred to this character by any name in english!

OCT 2004: a japanese licensed guidebook published by shogakukan (akiharu tsuchida et al) uses the name ファラオノコノコ ("pharaoh nokonoko", thus "pharaoh koopa"). everyone say thank you mariowiki for cataloguing the image. (i verified the book's release date via the final photo on this sale listing)

NOV 2004: nintendo power issue 185 features a mario pinball land guide (author uncredited, probably one of the names on this page) which refers to the boss as "egyptian koopa". note also the "piranha pete" error on the same page & the "spikey" error on the preceding page. the same month, a gamefaqs guide calls the boss "pharoe (sic) koopa troopa"

DEC 2004: (possibly earlier?) the american & australian mario pinball land promo flash pages (author uncredited) feature a(n unpreserved) video titled "king tut", presumably in reference to this boss:

JUL 2006: tutankoopa's mariowiki.com page is updated to add the claim that he is the boss in pinball land

AUG 2006: the first version of mario pinball land's mariowiki page calls the boss "tutankoopa"

some time before MAR 2007: the mario characters guide on gamefaqs by user spacepope4u conflates tutankoopa with the pinball land boss. sadly the version history is not very robust so i can't verify when this was added. references to the "egyptian koopa" name from np are also included:

MAY 2007: the first version of the boss's mariowiki page is created under the name "king tut" (probably taking the name from the site above, albeit without citing it). a revision the following day adds the name "koop tut" as well. around the same time, conflation of "king tut" with tutankoopa is removed from both the tutankoopa page and the pinball land page. the "king tut" name begins to gain traction

FEB 2008: "koop tut" is removed from the mariowiki page

DEC 2009: on the wiki's talk page two users very briefly discuss whether this character should be considered the same as tutankoopa

2012: silverball studios is bought by barnstorm games (source). not really relevant but i thought it was interesting

APR 2015: a "citation needed" template is added to the "king tut" page

NOV 2015: a thread is created on super mario boards to discuss the "king tut" name situation. the name of the wiki page is changed to "egyptian koopa", following the nintendo power name above. that name proliferates on other platforms, such as this beautiful forum thread:

SEPT 2019: a singular japanese deviantart user uploads fanart & refers to this character in the caption as ボスカメック ("boss kamek", thus "boss magikoopa"--notably, this is the jp name for kamella) as far as i can tell, literally nobody else has ever used this name for this character

OCT 2023: i post a video on the subject. lol

NOV 2023: warioware: move it is released: a microgame in 9-volt's stage, "mario pinball land", features an appearance by "egyptian koopa" (video). it continues to go unnamed

JUN 2025: the flash site from 2004 is rediscovered by mariowiki users: the page is renamed back to king tut in accordance with this new information

to recap the names that have been used, in the order of first extant public usage:

boss koopa (ボスノコノコ): comes from the official japanese guide site in 2004. a cursory search suggests that it's the most common name used on the japanese web (ex: pixiv, nintendo wiki, niconico, wikipedia, twitter)

tutankoopa: unofficial conflation of this boss with the paper mario character. earliest known recorded use is in the 2004 gamefaqs guide above. what the boss was called on mariowiki from 2006 to 2007. a variety of other sources have (possibly independently) furthered this conflation (ex: youtube (1, 2, 3), khinsider, gamefaqs (1, 2, forum), lemmy's land)

pharaoh koopa (ファラオノコノコ): comes from the licensed japanese shogakukan guidebook in 2004. appears in some of the "boss koopa" sources above, but only as a parenthetical. used only once in english in a fan guide, probably without referent

egyptian koopa: officially printed in nintendo power in 2004, used as the primary name on mariowiki from 2015 to 2025. widely used on the english web (ex: youtube (1, 2, 3, 4), deviantart, fandom.com, spriters resource, tvtropes)

king tut: featured on the official flash promo site in 2004. the name on mariowiki from 2007 to 2015, and again as of june 2025. can be seen online in some sources from 2015 and earlier (ex. fantendo, giantbomb, blogspot, datacrystal, youtube)

koop tut: unofficial, appeared in the body of the mariowiki page from 2007 to 2008. may have been pulled from a super show episode. not used anywhere else afaict

boss magikoopa (ボスカメック): unofficial, used by a single deviantart user in 2019

[sirfrogsworth]

I use AI upscaling to help with my photo restorations. And it is the one use of generative AI that I think has serious merit. I use Topaz so it is ethically trained on licensed images. It helps me preserve memories and give people photos of their loved ones with a clarity they have never seen. They get a much better sense of what their grandpa looked like when he was young.

But AI upscaling is not a push button solution. And I don't think it will be for a long time, if ever. It's part of a larger workflow. It doesn't save me time or effort. In fact, it adds quite a bit of time to the restorations.

Sometimes I have to upscale the background and people separately. Often I have to adjust the contrast and detail on people's faces so the AI renders them accurately. I have learned how to set things up for success before the AI does its thing. And sometimes there is a lot of trial and error to get a non-nightmare result. Each try can take several minutes to render. There are several algorithms to choose from, several intensity sliders, and once the upscale is at a place I am happy with, I have to use traditional techniques to make the people not look like wax figures. I use things like custom film grains and LUTs to make the pristine AI result look like an old photo again.

In other words, I care about the photos I'm restoring.

I saw people talking about restoring Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. It's a very difficult problem due to how the show was produced. The live action was captured on film—which can be re-scanned at a higher resolution. But the digital effects were all done on analog 480p video tape. Not only would they need to be re-rendered but they would also have to be recomposited. Odo's shapeshifting is especially tricky. There isn't an economical way to remaster the show. TNG was only possible because they filmed practical assets for most of the VFX. They still had to redo all the compositing and it was very costly just to do that.

AI could be the answer. But only if the studio is willing to see it as a tool to be used in conjunction with artists and not a push button solution. Every frame needs to be checked. Different scenes will need different techniques to upscale them properly. And some scenes will just need to be cleaned up manually with traditional tools.

Upscaling to 1080p or 4K is often a mistake. The more extra pixels you try to add, the harder it will be to get a natural result. I think 720p would be a happy medium to shoot for. Combined with modern TVs traditional upscaling you will get a good viewing experience.

There are already fan upscales that are decent. I would say they managed to get the equivalent detail of maybe 600p. If you remember playing games on an old CRT monitor, going from 640x480 to 800x600 is actually a decent bump in detail.

Even though the files are outputted at 720p, it doesn't look quite as sharp as native 720p video. It's complicated to explain, but the short version is... detail and pixel resolution aren't really the same thing. Even if the file is upscaled to 1080p or 4K, that doesn't mean it has equivalent detail.

Which means we use a really shitty metric to give people a sense of how much detail a video will have. Ks and Megapixels are near useless these days.

Do your 200 megapixel phone photos really look sharper than my 24 megapixel DSLR photos?

My point is... detail is complicated.

And AI is currently unable to handle all of that complication without supervision and care.

In any case, the fan upscale of DS9 is definitely superior to the DVD versions. Feel free to seek that out (use a VPN). And because fans did it, the upscales were done with great care. They didn't push the tool beyond its limits and they reviewed every episode to make sure no nightmares snuck in.

I really don't know how to prevent studios from cheaping out and just running content through an upscaler with no care or supervision. But I also don't think fans should outright reject AI as a solution. It can be done well if they let actual artists leverage the tools and do it correctly.

[subterraneanna]

About that black shirt...

It seems truth is stranger than fanfiction. By the way, someone asked if his face was digitally altered in these photos. It's not. This is an officially licensed QMx figure wearing his officially licensed leotard, photographed as is under real lights in my studio.

[joeinct]

License Photo Studio, New York, Photo by Walker Evans, 1934

[accio-victuuri]

why jeanswest is kinda competing with bottled joy as a cpf favorite…

disclaimer before we start — i think these are mostly coincidence. i’m sure brands know the target market and are aware of cpfs but whether they try and appeal to us by bringing out specific products is something no one can confirm. so let’s start with the brand itself, which is mainly owned by a hongkong based company and this is why it has this kind of presence in China. i don’t see any of their captions or marketing on weibo being seen as targeted to cpfs. the examples people are pointing out so far are actual products you can see on their official taobao store.

this started with their 10:05 kadian and allegations of feeding cp because of their little prince and tennis designs which I talked about here.

&& then most recently, fans noticed that they have a couple hoodie ( photo on the left ) with the word (我们) as in We/Us — which is very applicable right now since it’s related to XZ’s album. and the design even has that element of sunrise, you want to watch the sunrise? tho xzwyb are more of sunsets. lol.

tho i have to say the brand has a selection of similar couple themed wear. and tbh, the we/us is being used here in the romantic sense cause there’s quite a number of c-ent couples who used this in their caption when officially announcing their relationship on weibo. so JW is most likely referring to that rather than a nod to XZ. we have to realize that he doesn’t own that word. 😂😂😂😂

but i understand why this is 👀 to cpf because of other cp-esque friendly (allegedly) designs from the past.. and it’s a lot….

these ones don’t need much explanation cause for a cpf, you can see it. the shirt with lion + rabbit. the red rabbit shirt. turtle. 95. guangdian colors and with a romantic print/words. x and w with 9 and 5. etc.

now i bring more examples that are also gonna alert cpfs! and this is why i say that these are most likely coincidences. that we, as cpfs, will gravitate towards designs and symbols that speak to us. we do this with other brands and i think that JW just happened to have a lot of these designs that appeal to us. or maybe their designer is a CPF lol.

( paper plane and bunny, 23 which is love zhan in red and green, mountain/camping and the heart gesture they did while filming )

another one is JW and MIIOW which are two separate companies and brands with what looks like identical products. this is kinda problematic tho on their end, so i don’t see this as cpn.

AND EVERYONE’S FAVE IS THIS. The Z shirt, in a writing that is the same XZ’s art signature.

so there you go 🫶🏼

it’s pretty interesting and i’m happy for cpfs who managed to get clothes that represent the fandom even if it was unintentional ( or is it??? ).

i have to add this last part tho cause i see people sharing this screenshot of a livestream where JW is selling clothes with the a similar WM design as in XZ’s work. Some are eating this as candy but the truth is THIS IS FAKE. I placed a red arrow on the actual product being shown, that’s where you will find it on lives like this when someone buys. So the WM was photoshopped.

this is scary. cause there are people out there deliberately doing this for god knows what. this is why we have to be careful of cpns and what is being shared. it’s so easy to see this and go omg they are so brave! or did wyb give a go signal to do this style??? etc when in fact this has a more sinister implication. that artwork is most likely licensed to xz and his studio and infringing on that has legal consequences. so this may be anti fuel, that a brand wyb endorses is plagiarizing xz’s work. so yeah. not all candies are sweet. we always have to pause and remember that our priority is to protect their (xz and wyb) best interest. 💛

[sevenop]

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: The Countess's carriage

A/n: You get your driver's license, and Billie just likes to mess around sometimes.

Billie's point of view. Small references to "Oxytocin".

"Okay guys, we're done, you're packing up the equipment! You all did a great job!" - The photographer gives the command and his booming voice shaking the bright studio like a fairy-tale giant easily lifting a log cabin into the air, and for a second it seems that even the huge vertical plane of the cyclorama behind me is swaying, absorbing his powerful, bassy voice. Something reminiscent of huge stage speakers, quite amusing. - "Thank you more for such a pleasant cooperation, Ms. O'Connell."

The stocky man smiles as kindly as if he were a boy of five, making his truly French mustache bounce upward in curls. And he himself is a living embodiment of Parisian chic, making an impression of some incompatible between windiness and seriousness. Chinos pants in gray plaid, expensive white shirt that is deliberately not buttoned up on the first button, black classic Vans slip-ons, brown jacket, and his majesty - yellow scarf. It's like I never left Paris, a really wonderful photographer.

"Just Billie," - I sank blissfully into the blue pouffe with my foot on the leg, - "and thank you, it's mutual."

The good-natured uncle walks away, looking at the camera screen with incredible satisfaction as he walks (perhaps even calculating the profits from the magazine covers, as evidenced by his dreamy feline smile), and I can finally exhale, relaxed. When I lean my head back and close my eyes for a few seconds, the studio around me is as noisy as a forest: someone removes the nozzle from the softboxes with a characteristic rustle like the sound of leaves, or heared alternating clicks that make the studio lights go out, reminiscent of a woodpecker's knocking on wood. And it's all mixed in with the rushing of people stomping around, muffled speech that I'm not really trying to make out. With an exhalation I open my eyes leisurely, and while long-legged tripods and reflectors, so similar to buds opened under the sun, are "flying by", I fumble for my phone in the pocket of baggy jeans. Even in this consonance of work noise, I hear most sensitively the sound of the notification from you. Or maybe I don't hear it, but already feel it in my heart, who knows? A light swipe up and our chat window obediently pops up. Emoji of a burning heart in place of name and your photo in the profile circle, where you deliberately playfully shine your sharpened bare collarbones, which for me is the most delicious cherry that I want to savor on my tongue.

"Hey, guess who can surpass you on the road now? 〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜"

A warm smile spreads on my lips: your efforts have really paid off despite the itchy worries in your soul. So proud of you, though I can't help but tease jokingly - the newfound opportunity is too sweet, since you and I can have such an unconditionally good time.

"Debatable about surpassing me, my girl..." - And immediately followed by a new blue cloud of a message that slipped right out from under my fingers. - "But I'm eternally proud of you, you're incredible."

"Then why does it look like you want to take me on as a bet, Eilish?"

Bingo. As soon as I slyly cast my rod, you immediately swallow the bait, even knowing full well what's involved. Your deliberate submissiveness is so enticing, it makes me bite my lower lip, automatically stoking the hungry flames of my obscene thoughts. The false fang scratches my lip from the excessive pressure. Shit... Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a tall, thin shadow looming over me, causing me to raise my head, reflexively blocking my screen.

"Billie, ready to go yet?" - Laura smiles, holding the thick day planner in one hand and holding it out to me with the other like a caring fairy godmother. I nod and immediately brag to get up from the blue ottoman in one motion. - "You look a little tired, dear, but luckily that was the last activity for today."

"And this is coming from a person who should be on a well-deserved vacation twice already, but has been putting it off for about six months now," - I chuckle, and Laura playfully folds her fingers pistol-wise, tucking her "sacred" texts under her armpit. A few impromptu shots, and I play along like an unlikely Hollywood movie actor, grabbing dramatically at the heart. - "Okey, my lip zipped."

"That's right!" - Ramsey, with a cheeky grin, alternately blows imaginary smoke off her fatal "weapon" before she get back in the same mood. - "Should I call a driver to give you a ride home?"

"No, that's okay,"- I sluggishly wave her off as the two of us weave our way toward the exit of the room, keeping our course toward the intricate weave of several dark corridors and dressing rooms. - "Better tell me, can I keep those awesome fangs?".

"I think, for a small fee, it's quite possible."

"Great!" - I dip my hand into my pocket again, unintentionally blinding myself with the display in the unfamiliar darkness at first. My fingers immediately touch the necessary letters, as if in a sharp and passionate tango. - "Simply marvelous."

One can now tread on this fragile ice far more confidently than before.

"It is, I want." - The blue cloudlet goes to you, losing the final "you" along the way, which I did, after all, erase as soon as I typed it. Not because it's not true, but because it's too boring and stupid to open all the cards at once. - "Will you pick me up?"

Two thin, white checkmarks appear almost immediately in the corner, notifying me that it's been read. The three dots at the top of the screen bounce meditatively as I say goodbye to Laura, who's walking further down the maze of narrow corridors, and I'm touch the handle of the dressing room with the palm of my hand as I make mine way inside.

"Yeah, only if you're want ride on a bicycle." - The words skillfully build into your traditional irony, and I can hold back a burst of laughter. - "I don't have a car yet, and I don't think you're so dreamy about having all of LA running after us when they recognize you."

"Take my Dragon, and show me what you can do. I'll be waiting."

I write the address and set the phone back down on the table contentedly, settling into the high chair in front of the mirror: I smile languidly, and a pair of snow-white fangs and silver grillz catch the glow of light from the warm backlighting running along the mirror frame. The silver star shining especially brightly. I notice the playful blue sparks in my gaze that flicker with the stirring dirty thoughts already running rampant in my head. Well, this is going to be fun!

×××

As soon as I leave the building through the back door, under the usual escort of two trustworthy guards and the responsible Laura, I hear the familiar, soft rumble of the engine and my favorite rustle of wheels in the deep dark blue twilight: you pull into the parking lot like a careful panther, so as not to attract unnecessary attention. Although I know how much you want to make noise for the whole block and press the gas pedal to the floor. I like to do that. And I think I like to see you driving my car, which I'm just now finding out.

"You're too sexy against the obsidian black metallic, you know that?" - I dive into the passenger seat, which feels a little unfamiliar, and you almost drop your jaw to the floor of the cabin in surprise when I look at you defiantly from under my dark glasses and smile. I bite my lip deliberately, setting the stage. - "You like it?"

"Insanely." - You look adoringly into my blue waters, so beloved of you, and I can't hold back a slight blush, immediately covering myself with a smirk. - "You seem to have surpassed even Carmilla herself, Countess."

"I hope the first vampire in the history of literature doesn't take too much offense at me." - I grab to my seatbelt, letting a chuckle pass through my lips.

"She will. It's impossible to be offended by you."

As we pull out of the parking lot, the right to stare elegantly becomes my authority, which you've unknowingly handed over to me, as if you've performed a gothic sacrament in the semi-darkness of the cabin by your mere appearance and demeanor. The massive gold chain that weighs so seductively on your neat neck is worth it. And the long coffee-colored jacket that accentuates your sculpted shoulders? My gaze falls on the thin strap threaded into the laces of your casual pants - the belt plaque is gold-plated, too. You lower your right hand, gently touching the gearshift knob, and I stare so dumbly, hungrily outlining each phalanx and the line of rings playing on your beautiful fingers. Oh my God... You're doing absolutely nothing obscene, and I'm practically dying already.

"Is everything okay?" - you ask, not taking your eyes off the road. Your face is so unaccustomedly focused, though I catch some concern in your gaze.

"Just admiring you," - I take off my sunglasses, clinging them with one earpiece on the collar of my T-shirt. - "And... I wanted to offer you something."

"Listening attentively, my Countess." - You look at me expectantly, just as we slow down at the stoplight waiting for the signal, a purring chuckle on your lips. - "Anything for your gothic majesty, the finest carriage at your service."

"Is it really the best? It's not like I'm driving right now." - A smirk shoots up on its own, causing you to do nothing but tsk tsk and roll your eyes theatrically. You're my flawless opera.

"Stop taunting and tormenting me and tell me what you're up to, slick."

The air sticks in my throat barely in time to form meaningful words, or at least syllables: a red Audi comes nose to nose, honking softly. My hands reach for mine glasses, clawing them back onto my face as a kind of reflex. And you're instantly taut, like a string twisted in the right direction by a peg on top of the fingerboard. Hands on the handlebars in perfect position, for all the flashy high marks. Again another slight honk of a car suddenly appearing nearby breaks the silence of the night.

"Did I do something wrong?" - You ask perplexedly, arching your eyebrows slightly in a frown and turning your head toward the window, just in time for the expensive source of the rich scarlet-colored sound. The Audi immediately winks playfully at you a couple times with its high beam lights, making you squint more and more with the question hovering right above your head.

"No, relax." - I run my hand down your thigh, which immediately tenses under my palm. You turn your gaze back to me, still as questioning, but you spread your leg closer to me without further ado. You're so obedient, it's a miracle. - "It's just that you're being called to a stoplight race."

"Uh, just like in the movies?"

"Uh-huh." - I slide my hand thigh , down to your knee to come back up and rest on the border of my inner thigh. The look is attentive, eye to eye, you're not even looking down yet. - "When two or more drivers in expensive cars meet randomly on the road and try to prove who is 'cooler' by overtaking each other, flashing high beams, playing 'checkers' usually with significant speeding."

"And... How do I win?" - My palm dives down, and you start breathing a little confused, which someone else wouldn't even notice unless you knew you properly. But I do know, and that brings a satisfied smile as if on cue. - "Eilish..."

"I'll tell you if you promise to grant my wish," I return back, squeezing your thigh through the fabric of your pants. - "Whatever it is."

"I promise." - You nod confidently, even without any pause. A small spark of excitement shines in the depths of your pupils. Wonderful.

"Usually this sort of thing ends with one heavily outmaneuvering the 'opponent', like while he's stopped at a stoplight, bumping into slow traffic, and stuff like that." - I lower my glasses a little, peeking over the edge of the frame. Your gaze drifts momentarily to the rich blue of my lashes, and then you're back at the mercy of my calculating eyes. - "Racing from stoplight to stoplight, usually starting on green, then rapid acceleration, 'checkers' and braking before the next stoplight.

"Well, there's no other cars here now, obviously."

"In our case, all we have to do is run a green light to get our opponent 'stuck' into a red light." - feeling the coolness of the gearbox knob with the palm of my hand is nice, even sitting in the passenger seat, even if it feels completely different. - "Roar if you want to compete."

You pause for a second, arching your back into the seat, staring appraisingly at the distant traffic light in front of you, and then place your hands on the steering wheel. Seeing the blue ribbons of your veins on your tense wrists is pure sex. You squeeze the gas pedal, shaking the silence of the intersection with a powerful roar - and that's sex multiplied by x-two. You really know how to make the Dragon sound. And I know how to make you sound. The scarlet Audi responds immediately, making noise and "shooting" the engine in a cocky, open and brazen challenge.

"I dibs pay on the fines, Eilish." - you exhale tensely with a chuckle, staring at the red light as if someone's life depends on it. Oh, you're nervous as if you're on your deathbed, waiting with your hand clasped on the handle.

"The Countess is betting all her treasure on you, my coachman." - I lean back in my chair with too much wimpy pathos on my tongue, and as I smile my teeth catch the glow of the streetlights again, which is especially visible in the side mirror. Red changes to yellow, to which the Audi growls again, and you don't make a single extra move, just wait. - "Prove it to me what you better."

Five seconds of silence - the yellow cycles to green. And you sharply push the knob on the box forward in a split second, at the same time pressing the pedal to the floor. The wheels grind to a devilish speed, and I'm immediately sealed into the seat. It's pure madness, but I like it. The Audi pathetically "shooting" the exhaust pipe, being bumper to bumper with you again. At the last decisive meters, when the green circle blinks, as if saying goodbye for a while, and the "Dragon" on half a bumper rushes forward, you confidently pull the handle a little on itself, including the second gear, then - clutch, smooth wheel spin, gas. With a whistle of tires, you fly sideways behind the traffic light hanging from above, immediately leveling off to the proper lane and driving away, kicking up dust. The red Audi stays behind the red light, a little further away.

With the realization of the outcome, we yell something unintelligible to each other, me nearly bouncing out of my seat even though I'm buckled in, you, a five-finger running through your hair disbelievingly while the road is still empty.

"Wow, I definitely have one of the best carriages of all," I whisper half hoarsely, feeling the tight ligaments in my throat peppering.

"And yet not the best?" - you pout playfully, biting down on the bottom one so your smile doesn't give you away. Still too flighty and excited from the dose of adrenaline shooting through your bloodstream. - "I won, hey!"

"You won, but you didn't win against me," - I show you my tongue, sticking it exactly in the gap between my fangs, and you laugh childishly. There's no hint of resentment or anything like that on your face.

"So be it, Eilish." - You look distractedly at the rearview mirror, as if convincing yourself that this isn't all a figment of your imagination. - "So what about your wish?"

And here comes the prize for audience sympathy! Personal and unique, so long awaited.

"Remember my apartment in the apartments near the center?" - I place my hand back on your thigh, stroking extremely close, making you almost hiss, "Head over there, right into the underground parking lot."

×××

Passing the security checkpoint without the slightest problem, and pulling into the parking lot just out of camera range - good idea, great even. Unbuckling the seatbelts on both of us and getting my lips on yours before your mechanism hit the car wall with its metal detail was great. Ordering you, so panting and disheveled from my hands and lips, to move into the back seats right out of the front seats, following me is stunning in its uniqueness. You are sprinted by me to the back seat without any mercy or excuse, with your lips slightly swollen and reddened from biting. And I deeply don't care that we're somewhat cramped right now, perhaps that only plays to our advantage. I don't care because it's my wish, and you promised to fulfill it.

"You're crazy, you know that?" - Your gaze is so serious - pure surgical steel, but you're breathing intermittently and without noticing it you're fawning your body only closer to me, your legs in expensive pants spread wider, giving more space. - "Why don't you back off and pick something safer?"

Sitting on you in the small interior of Dodge: pure insanity. Hovering over you again and tongue leaving a lust-hot stroke on your neck, pulling back the collar of your thin white turtleneck: a complete breakdown of brakes and decency. But can't I be bad sometimes? Oh, yes, I can! Especially when there's a hot girl like you in my car.

"Can't take it back once it's been set in motion," - I clutch that most fucking licentious gold and massive chain in my fist, pulling you closer by it so you're sure to hear every word crystal clear in my whisper. - "Cause I like to do things God doesn't approve of if she saw us."

"Eilish, fuck...," - I rest my knee so shamelessly between your thighs, deliberately creating friction, and you melting, letting go of any moral guardrails, your face hidden behind your Artemis palm: fingers so thin and chiseled and beautiful, like you're a perfect portrait descended from the paintings of antiquity. Mine. So excited and almost swaggering.

"Girl, I'm going to drive you crazy," - I run the very tip of a fang along the curl of your ear, and you pant in heat, swallowing your own moan so obediently that my own thighs shake from the tension. Gently I wrap my fingers around your hand, moving my hand away from your face. - "Wanna see what you can take, take you right in the my car, such a deadly hot girl. Will you be obedient for me?"

"Yes," - you wheeze, clinging to my lips, and I allow it, only biting lightly. It seems like you're about to have bloody scratchy cracks on your lips as it is, my weakness. I leave a few hickeys on your neck, and I almost laugh as you purr a muffled moan: I think I'm getting too into the vampire role, don't you think?

I touch you just everywhere, every precious cell of your body, and you still don't beg: you endure and only occasionally look away from me, wishing you could find some respite to save your soul in this four-wheeled Purgatory that is more sinful than hell itself.

"You couldn't look away, look away, look away..." - I hum mockingly right in your face, grabbing your chin, but you only roll your eyes with the new thrust of my knee. You're so interesting to 'break', my dear, so unadulterated and interesting to me.

"She'd wanna get involved, involved, involved..." - you deftly parry my own sentence. A slight smirk flashes across your lips, and then I'm nearly folded in half when you thoughtfully shut my mouth with your hand and wedge your knee into the very point of infernal heat in my body. There, between my thighs.

"Slut..." - I feel the sweat begin to trickle down my forehead, and a bitchy smile spreads across my lips. You don't look away, staring straight into my irises, wanting to swim in those seas, to stay there forever. But I won't let you - I just can't do it without you. Your parched lips fold silently into "yours," and so hard tightens the knot of heat in my lower abdomen as if all five letters were belladonna petals.

Deftly I unbuckle your belt, pull the zipper tongue down and you instantly break down, no longer having any strength to continue this teenage game we're playing.

"I'm begging, Billie, please..."

Click! And you broke, just seconds before I would have lost all patience myself, pounding into you with fingers so frantic and selfless that you never dreamed. Good girl. And good girls should be encouraged, shouldn't they?

Already half-naked, you crawl back to the narrow window with your back to the max distance, and I slide down the seat to the opposite side with my feet on the floor. I run my hands over your absolutely uncovered thighs, touching them smoothly with my lips as if they were expensive velvet. You want to grab my hair with your hands, speeding up the process, but you stopped yourself so obediently that I personally place your hand on the back of my head-you deserve it.

I run my tongue between the hot petals, and you nearly bang your head on the roof, wanting to arch your body in a beautiful arc of pleasure. Your hands are tangled in my dark hair, and I'm just trying not to scratch you with my two snow-white "gothic blade", stolen from the photo shoot so successfully. The star-shaped grillz are so contrastly, it's so cold on your aroused clit at first, isn't it?

You cum even without fingers, too taken to extremes in foreplay. All I do is suck in the pot of your clit with my lips, and you do fly into the low ceiling of the car with your forehead, jerking from your orgasm too sharply. You squeeze your eyes shut in pain, barely able to recover again from the new wave of small shudders.

"Hey, hey, hey," - I'm settling in just as you do, pulling you closer to me, resting your head on my chest. Your feet dangle to the floor, but you don't seem to care. You only squint, trying to calm the mottled galaxy before your eyes, and poke your lips against my neck. - "Gently, be accurate, my girl."

You open your eyes, and you look at me so wildly, the word Fallen Angel on Alexander Cabanel's canvas. Madly, with burning eyes, with unknown power. You don't say a word only kiss endlessly, and with one hand you manage the thin Gucci belt and the zipper on my jeans. You enter with two fingers so unexpectedly and precisely that I would have left a hole in the roof with my head if you hadn't put your hand there in time.

"The Grammy Academy still needs some talented twists, careful," - you chuckle, but I'm just feverishly thrusting against your tense fingers, eager for release. I bite my lip until it's bloody, and the star-shaped grillz blinks silver. - "Nah, that won't do..."

You pull your fingers out, and I feel like crying or biting "vampire-style."

You slide down between my thighs, throwing my legs over your back as best you can by virtue of the space, and then you say, looking into my eyes with Edenic pleasure like you've tasted forbidden fruit:

"Beg me, Billie Eilish."

Click! And I break under you in my own car, burning with excitement.

[disease]

"LICENSE PHOTO STUDIO..." WALKER EVANS | NYC, 1934 [film negative | 6 1/2 x 8 1/2"]

[fashionbooksmilano]

Ozbek Perfume Book

Photo Domenico D'Erasmo - Nick Knight

Concept Italiana di Comunicazione, 1995, 40 pagine, 16x26,5cm,

euro 60,00

email if you want to buy booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

Rifat Ozbek (born 1953) is a Turkish-born fashion and interior designer, known for his exotic, ethnically-inspired outfits.He was named British Designer of the Year in 1988 and 1992.

After graduating in 1977, Ozbek went to Italy where he worked in Milan between 1978 and 1980, then in London with Monsoon .] In 1984 he established his own company, Ozbek, and began to show his yearly collections in Milan and New York City, and more recently, in Paris. In 1987 the production of his studio line, Future Ozbek, was licensed to Aeffe SpA, in Italy, and his notoriety continued to grow. By 1995, he had launched his own perfume called "Ozbek", and later a second, "Ozbek 1001". The fall 1999/spring 2000 collections of many designers reflected the very aesthetic that Ozbek valued for over a decade—the artful mixing of unlikely patterns, shapes, and ornamentation, along with bits and pieces borrowed from a global grab bag. In 2010, Ozbek launched a new business called "Yastik", which means "pillow" in Turkish, and opened his first London store.

Özbek was an interior designer for Robin Birley's new nightclub, 5 Hertford Street, which opened in 2012

27/11/24