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r3starttt · 2 months

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OBLIVIATE | 02

ellabs x reader | series m.list | > 01 > 03

CW: modern!au. +18 content. poly relationship. POC friendly. ellabs x reader. | hate sex (AxE). thigh riding (E). hair pulling (E). fingering. edging. orgasm denial. mean Abby.

SUMMARY: Yearning for warmth and protection, you find yourself tangled in complicated relationships. Abby's charm wins your parents' favor, overshadowing everything else, while Ellie's struggle for independence clashes with your own expectations.

PRELUDE TO ECSTASY

Those portraits of women who have huge animals on their laps- your parents had several of them in their summer house. You always wondered if they were real; at seven years old, they seemed quite convincing.

They instilled in you a longing for the warmth that came with holding the weight of those beasts on your lap, a craving for the love and protection they symbolized. You imagined the comfort and guardianship they could provide, yearning to feel that unconditional affection, to be seen without fear, to not be bitten.

It was scary to see them when it was night and you had to walk from your room to the bathroom and vice versa. Yet, something within you reminded you that behind those eyes was no mere beast—they weren't real. Under the warm daylight steaming through the windows, your fear transformed into a desire for their presence, and perhaps that was your issue—logic.

It it was scary, even if it was only during nights, why couldn't you allow the fear within your childish brain.

In the bathroom you once shared with your cousins, there was a large mirror. It was funny to brush your teeth with them, making weird faces, playing with the loud water that ran down the sink. It was funny to look at yourself while your mother brushed your hair, or pretend you were disgusted whenever your dad came to kiss your mom and say goodnight to you.

You would look at your reflection during those nights, admiring your tidy hair now braided by your mother. Your eyes would naturally look at the door, imagining if maybe there was something behind it that you didn't see before you closed it.

Now it's only memories, a mirror no longer shared, barely used. A mirror that pictures you being held by heavy hands, a mirror that reflects the bruises on your neck drawn by hungry lips.

"Ellie's still sleeping" a voice brought you back to the present, the beginning. blonde hair appearing in your peripheral vision. The sunlight from the bathroom skylight gave it an ethereal glow. "I can still smell the alcohol," you said, your voice sharper than intended. Abby just laughed

One thing is certain: you didn't forget what you learnt during study session. Neither did Ellie, and well, Abby didn't have to do much.

Blabber over blabber praised by their tongues, their wet lips on your body. If you somehow forgot a term, a name, a date, they had you waiting, forcing you to study again and see- hear them instead.

Ellie's tattoo on full display, hugging the warmth of Abby's flesh, right in front of you. Hungry tongues dancing against each other, soft and quiet whines brushing Abby's lips.

Perhaps there is truth in the saying that discipline and determination pay off, and that studying with others enhance your efficiency.

After great notes and a few self made parties to celebrate, you had only one request to make before Abby graduated.

"My parents have this religious summer vacation routine... I uhm- I'd really like to spend more time together before you leave." Her fingers intertwined with yours, ocean-blue eyes fixed on your puppy-like gaze. With a soft nod, she made you feel secure, safe, and tranquil.

"Yeah?" red puffy lips pressing against yours for what felt like the millionth time that hour. "Sure, why not? It'll be fun." she inquired.

You wondered if you should have ignored how your body reacted to her, if things would have ended differently had you not been blinded by your parents' respect and collage girl's admiration.

If maybe avoiding drinking on the first day Ellie met your parents would have revealed the truth before you gave in temptation.

"Hey, gotta get ready, yeah?" careful fingers brushed the auburn messy hair of an unconscious Ellie laying on your childhood bed. Groans and mumbles escaped from her lips, weak eyes being hit by the sun that entered with no warning through the room's windows.

"Abby" the stern of your tone elicting a weak laugh from her, whose hands shifted from the courtains to the bed you've shared with the auburn. Her eyes fixated on Ellies body too, half covered by a white blanket.

"Wanna marry her and can't even make it to have breakfast with her parents" Abbys muscles embraced William's hips over the blanket. "Fuck off Abigail" You slapped the hand in front of Ellie's sleepy face, her palm joilting at it.

Ellie stirred, pushing Abby's body off as she sat up in bed, her eyes flickering open. She looked at your still-pajama-clad body, confused. Her eyes glanced to Abby's. "The fuck are you so mad about, I thought you were dressed already"

Her sock-covered feet hitting the cold floor with each weak mad step as she headed to the shared bathroom.

"Don't even have shit to put on" muffled vocals hitting your ears the moment you stepped in the bathroom too. Hazel eyes glancing back at your reflection. "Dress however you feel more comfortable and... yeah. It'll be fine, promise" nails digged at your clavicle, walking across the bathroom to meet the hall that leaded to Abby's room, to change into more suitable clothes.

Ellie walked back to the room, toothbrush being held by her lips. Her eyes met Abby's.

"You make me look like a fucking loser" Anderson's body straightened to sit on the bed, her elbows resting on her knees as she spoke through her eyes. "You are one" she retorted, almost receiving a slap on the face by a towel on Ellie's hand "I don't wanna marry her"

"God, look at these beautiful young ladies," your mother's sharp voice pierced the air, making you almost want to cover your ears. She planted kisses on Abby's and Ellie's cheeks, her eyes scanning them up and down. Your father, much quieter, greeted them both with a nod.

Abby took it all in stride, reminding you of the first day you met her. Ellie, however, seemed uncomfortable with your mother's loudness and constant scrutiny. You stood behind your mom, making small gestures to calm her down and ease her discomfort.

it was evident who your parents favored. Your mother immediately asked Abby to sit beside her, leaving you to find a seat elsewhere. Despite the sting of this obvious preference, you found solace in Ellie's hands resting gently on your thighs and knees throughout the long, tedious hour. You were expected to sit there, look presentable, and talk about your long nights of drinking before classes as if they were accomplishments.

No matter what you said, the conversation inevitably shifted back to Abby and her magnetic presence. "Anderson," your dad mumbled, looking to your mother for any hint of approval before attempting to speak. "Did your father—" he began, but Abby cut him off. "You knew him?" she asked, instantly brightening the room. Your dad's face lit up as he heard Abby's father's name. "He was... admirable, always so responsible. He must be proud of you."

The scene before you, the warmth and approval you had longed for, was now lavished on a blonde girl who embodied everything your parents claimed to disdain—the epitome of the perfect, responsible rich.

The irony was almost too much to bear, yet you reminded yourself that this was exactly why you wanted her, despite the pain.

"Is that so? I remember you—" you started, but your mother cut you off with a sharp look that spoke volumes. "Don't say nonsense," she snapped. Your father gently murmured your name, a quiet plea for you to behave.

"You're identical to him," your dad continued, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. Abby's voice filled the silence, her grateful and flawless demeanor captivating everyone.

Ellie, on the other hand, focused on her food, her hazel eyes occasionally meeting yours with a subtle smile. Her demeanor remained unreadable until your mother finally acknowledged her. "Ellie, what about your family?" she asked. "We've heard you're quite smart. You also have a band, don't you?" your dad added, trying to ease the tension.

Ellie brushed off their questions with a dismissive "Nothing serious," before answering the barrage of inquiries about boyfriends, families, and finances—anything superficial that your mother could use to critique her or Abby, or both.

Your earlier words echoed in your mind: "Don't take it personally." This was the price of having people serve you warm eggs, fresh orange juice, and the most exquisite bread you had ever tasted.

The sun's warmth enveloped your bare back, a towel beneath you, your head resting on your crossed arms, and your chin nestled in your hands. Ellie lay beside you, her thumb incessantly scrolling through her phone, the sound loud and persistent.

You could hear Abby's lively conversation with your parents, despite the distance. Though you couldn’t see them, your mother's laughter and Ellie's focused eyes indicated that everyone was enjoying themselves.

"Is she always like this?" William's voice cut through, perhaps more sharply than intended. The loud thud of Ellie's phone landing on the grass beneath your sunbeds followed her words. "Yeah... they're born and raised rich, y'know?"

Ellie mimicked your position, her freckled face and reddened cheeks resting on her arms. She seemed hesitant, her tongue flicking across her lips before speaking. "I know what it's like... to beg for everything?"

You frowned at her comment. "What?" It might have been obvious that you weren’t the most cherished child, and maybe she sensed you sought your parents' approval to stave off loneliness. But begging? You didn’t beg. You planned and made things work.

"Your parents... I saw you looking at Abby earlier," Ellie said with a sheepish smile, her cheeks pressing against her arm, making her lips look puffy. "Hey, it's okay. I hate her too." you could tell she'd intended to make it hurt less.

You playfully shushed her with an outstretched arm. "I don't hate her." You shook your head slightly and adjusted yourself for a better view of her.

"Yeah, well your eyes said something else," she teased, the warmth between your bodies giving way to a silence filled only with birds chirping and distant chatter.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to gaze at the pool, where sunrays glinted off the water and leaves drifted lazily. "Why did you say that? Begging for everything?" you murmured, your voice muffled by your chin pressed against your arms.

"I- uhm" she paused a bit "Abby's helping me with money," Ellie admitted, her messy bun bobbing hesitantly to look at you, cherry cheeks shining on your direction. "Sometimes it feels like she enjoys it, like it makes her feel humble."

A simple hum of agreement seemed sufficient, but you felt the need to say more. "Well, my parents would be more than glad to help... if necessary."

Ellie had grown closer to you than she anticipated, seeing herself in you in ways Abby never could. Before her, she was just like you. And hearing that had stung her, made her physically weak.

Sometimes she wondered if being friends with Abby had brought her problems—the greed, the endless desire for more, the physical need for more, the hunger to prove herself.

You were the only relationship she believed could flourish without needing anything more than mutual attention. But when she saw who you were under your parents' eyes, things changed for her.

When Abby first pointed you out, Ellie hoped for another chance to meet you. If given the chance to start over, she would take it. Abby would leave soon, and she refused to be left alone with the life built for her. Meeting you at the library erased that fear. Even though you needed both Abby and her, Ellie knew she couldn't offer you the world, which maybe is and will always be what you need.

Coming here felt like voicing an uncomfortable truth aloud. You know it could cause problems, so you swallow the feelings until someone forces you to spit them out, and then the humiliation and messiness spills out with the words. And it's disgusting.

"That's the fucking problem," Ellie muttered.

Your gaze followed her as she hurriedly gathered her shirt and phone, her movements urgent and tense. Seated on the sunbed, you shielded your eyes from the glaring sun with one hand. You knew that any attempt to argue, reason, or even touch her would be futile, so you let her go, confident that you’d see her again eventually.

Abby grabbed her shoulders, her brow furrowing as she took in the sight of the auburn-haired girl’s distressed face. Her eyes flicked over to you and then back to her until Ellie pushed her away.

You shifted on the sunbed, crossing your legs and letting your arms dangle loosely over the sides, your hands lightly slapping against your thighs. You waited for Abby to approach.

"Why's she mad? What did you do?" Abby's voice sounded genuinely concerned, though her tone had a nonchalant, even mocking edge.

"Nothing," you murmured.

Abby removed her shirt and tossed it onto the sunbed Ellie had vacated moments ago. "What did she say?" you asked, referring to your mother, as you glanced back at Abby struggling with her shoes.

"Uh, nothing," she groaned, settling onto the unused sunbed. "Something about her being hot when she was younger and successful and whatever." You furrowed your brows, a weak smile playing on your lips in confusion. "Bet you've heard it a lot."

"So, she was actually serious. She wants to meet my dad, that's all," you nodded, quietly lying back before Abby stopped you with a click of her tongue.

She extended her hand towards you, tilting her head towards the pool. With a reluctant look, you moved towards her and took her hand, standing up.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened?" Abby’s hands rested on your hips, the warmth of the water surrounding your bodies comfortably as the sun began to lose its intensity.

"I offered to help with the money but—" Abby cut you off, taking your hands and guiding you as she swam beneath a tree, the shade allowing her to see your troubled face more clearly.

"I'll talk to her later, yeah? It'll pass," you shook your head.

Ellie wasn’t known for her patience, but she had her reasons for being upset. You had noticed that she was generally tolerant when it came to Abby, but her vulnerability increased when others were involved.

"Hey, I mean it," Abby interrupted your thoughts again. "You know she doesn’t like help"

You couldn’t help but steal a glance through the window, curiosity piquing as you crept closer to the wall, the tall grass scratching at your legs.

The curtain covered most of the room, allowing only the smallest glimpse inside.

Their voices were audible, they had locked themselves in a few minutes ago. However the sudden quietness was unsettling.

You knew they wouldn't resort to physical violence, at least not to the extent of actually hurting each other. But with a few weeks left until the end of summer, you desperately needed them to get along.

The thought of your parents mocking you for inviting problematic strangers into their home was unbearable. Being stuck with them in the middle of nowhere for the next few weeks was even worse.

"I guess you're right. We've done more than we should've" Abby's voice cut through the silence as the couch creaked beneath her shifting weight. She smoothed her shirt, her hands tracing down her sides to rest in the pockets of her shorts. "You're on your own after this."

From your limited perspective, you could only glimpse Ellie's legs, clad in baggy jeans that trembled with the rhythm of her incessantly tapping foot. Abby's voice, soft but stern, cut through the tension, "I don't want to see you again," she repeated, each shaky step bringing her closer to the door.

Ellie stood abruptly, closing the distance between them. The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating.

"You're not leaving," Ellie declared, her head shaking in denial. Her fingers fidgeted nervously, tracing invisible patterns on her palms. Though her voice wavered, betraying her anger and hurt.

"I'm not doing this," Abby retorted. Ellie's hands quickly latched onto Abby's, gripping with a force that promised bruises. "No, no, I'm not doing this. I'm not going to fight you," Abby insisted, her hands weakly attempting to push Ellie away.

"Yes, you will." Books cascaded off the bookshelf as Abby's body collided with it, eliciting a pained hiss. Abby’s fingers found Ellie's short auburn hair, tugging with palpable frustration. "Motherfucker," Ellie spat back.

Their breaths mingled, heavy and hot, each exhale hitting the other's face. Their expressions were a mix of frowns and quivering lips, their grips weakening with each passing second. Their eyes flickered with a mix of hate, pain, and regret.

Abby braced herself for cutting words or another bruising touch, but it didn't come, not how she expected.

Ellie's lips brushed against Abby's, a contact filled with irritation and even disgust. And then it hit them, the realization that, despite any mutual hatred, they were irresistibly drawn to each other.

Their bond was unavoidable—an intense mix of purity and violence that kept them intertwined in most intimate ways. A bond you had messed.

Abby’s fingers yanked Ellie's hair again in frustration. Ellie's lips, still connected by a trail of saliva, sought more, but the tight grip on her hair kept her at bay.

You could barely see, a sense of wrongness, shock and a morbid fascination rooting you to the spot you've been standing on for a few minutes now.

It was loud and messy. Abby's hands and body guiding Ellie who could only moan and groan in response. Sitting on a couch almost for you to see, which you didn't giving hurried steps against the grass to lead yourself to the back of the house and search for your parents.

Ellie's tattoo hiding underneath Abby's clothes, calloused fingers savoring every muscle, every inch of skin. Legs intertwined, Abby's hands gripping and slapping William's ass. "Fucking grind on 'em" she ordered.

And Ellie didn't hesitate. her proud getting hurt at each whimper she pressed against Abby's flesh, leaving open mouthed kisses. saliva wetting Abby's neck, jaw and chin.

Anderson's fingers gripping at Ellie's ass, guiding each movement on her own lap. thumb gripping the back belt loops of the auburn's jeans.

"Look at you..." Abby mocked Ellie’s current state. Half-lided eyes, mad and pained looking straight at her, flushed cheeks and plump lips letting out quiet groans. her hands making circles along the fat of Ellie's ass, leading her up her thigh, then down her knee. Ellie let out small whimpers, already pooling Abby's leg, clenching at the emptiness.

Abby bounced her leg. the vibrations hitting Ellie's already wet pussy. "What would she say if she saw this? mhm? if she really knew?" Ellie shocked her head, the humiliation blinding the pleasure briefly. "No?" Abby laughed. The plush of Ellie's thighs harshly gripped by Abby's fingers.

Abby leaned closer, her hands cupping Ellie's face, slowly moving behind her neck.

"Fucking slut you are Williams" she murmured. Her fingers now gripping at Ellie's hair once again. "Fuck- I'm sorry!" Ellie hissed, the grip on her hair tightening at her apologize.

"Shut up" She purposely lifted her leg again, bouncing it just to feel her knee against Ellie's cunt, eliciting a silent plead.

"Told you to shut up" Abby hissed. her hands leaving the auburn's ass, slapping it just a few seconds later. pleasure and pain starting to mix just right near Ellie's cunt.

Anderson's fingers trapped ellies cheeks. a tight grip on her hair to pull her face back so she could take a proper look of it. Puffy lips on a forced pout, eyebrows furrowed and nose slightky srunched.

She let go of Ellie's hair. Hands running hungrily to the zipper of her jeans, making enough space for her hand to fit in. "You make a fucking sound and I leave"

The moment Abby's fingers touched Ellie's puffy clit, all that annoyance she'd been kipping on her transformed into weakness, a disgusting need for being seen and touched by Abby.

William's lips giving Abby the privilege of hearing her quiet agitated breathing, whines and pleads over and over again.

"So wet mhm? Like it when I do that?" Abby mocked. her fingers rubbing painfully slow circles over Ellie's clit. legs open enough so the callouses of her hands could rub against her clit and eventually down her clothet folds.

The wet in Ellie's hole spreading all over boxers. Abby's leg bouncing felt like hell, yet she couldn't help but rub herself on it, riding the blonde's fingers.

Calloused digits moving underneath the auburn's boxers, hand lingering on the mound of her pussy, cupping it. Ellie's drool escaping her pressed lips, covering Abby's hand each second that went by.

Abby took her time, scissoring Ellie's folds, feeling the wet mess she'd made on her.

Eventually feeding her ego at each thrust. sticky arousal connecting her hand to Ellie's cunt, hitting and rubbing her clit coincidentally.

"like that? yeah?," Ellie didn't bother in letting out more than muffled whines against her hand. "you're so wet, aren't you ashamed?" Her mocking replied by Ellie's fingers toying with the hem of Abby's shirt.

Until Abby stopped, abruptly. "You wanted this" she hissed, her hands smoothly leaving William's body. "And I'll make sure she knows"

Reblogs and Comments very much appreciated!!!

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davidhudson · 1 year

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Happy 70th, Nan Goldin.

Self Portrait in Blue Bathroom, London, 1980.

#nan goldin #photography #art

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woundgallery · 2 years

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Nan Goldin, Self-portrait in blue bathroom, London 1980

#nan goldin #blue #photography #self-portrait #art #contemporary art

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art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament · 1 year

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Behold, a bracket!

Text form below the cut because trying to copy all the 256 into the alt text sounded.... horrifying. Warning for 128 matchups, seriously, this list is long, and so I've avoided adding the artists until the polls.

a note: the pinned post has started misbehaving, so only open polls will be directly linked. closed polls instead have the results page linked in the set header, all the polls are linked from there

Set 1

The Lament for Icarus (Miao He) vs The Lament for Icarus (Herbert Draper)

The angel came to me in a fever hallucination, perched upon my bed as I returned from the bathroom. vs Sweet Brown Snail

Figures vs A Philosopher Lecturing on the Orrery

Happy Shoppers vs Hubble Deep Field

Lovers Painting vs Bath Curtain

Dr. Helen Taussig vs Une Martyre

Orangoutang étranglant un sauvage de Bornéo (Orangutan strangling a Borneo savage) vs Can’t Help Myself

Rape vs Technicolor Hiroshima

Set 2

A Walk at Dusk vs Based on “Autoportrait with the Model” by Maria-Rayevska Ivanova

Diary Page vs Les Jours Gigantesques (The Titanic Days)

Dead of Night vs You Won't

Christina's World vs Bobby

Untitled (I’m Turning Into A Specter Before Your Very Eyes And I’m Going To Haunt You) vs Two Sisters (On the Terrace)

Sharecropper vs Lustmord

The Parca and the Angel of Death vs Untitled (Zdzisław Beksiński)

Stress vs The Fallen Angel

Set 3

Device to Root Out Evil vs Travelling Light

Diana vs Fifty Days at Iliam: The Fire that Consumes All before It

The Plains, from Memory vs Exotic Bodies

Doubting Thomas vs Self-Portrait in the Bathroom Mirror

Empty Nest vs Somebody Fell From Aloft

Anguish vs If I Died

Cat in Obsolete Bath vs You're Not Boring Anymore

Salvator Mundi (Savior of the World) vs Untitled (billboard of an empty unmade bed)

Set 4

There Will Be No Miracles Here vs Symphony of the Sixth Blast Furnace

Fox Hunt vs Tarpaulin

Khajuraho Group of Monuments vs Ranakpur Jain Temple

ปราสาทสัจธรรม (The Sanctuary of Truth) vs Grande Panorama de Lisboa

Heroic Head of Pierre de Wissant, One of the Burghers of Calais vs The Weather

The Daughters of Edward Darley Boit vs If this is art

Statue of Vincent and Theo van Gogh vs Jeanne d’Arc écoutant les voix (Joan of Arc listening to the Voices)

Fountain vs Judith Slaying Holofernes

Set 5

Cueva de las Manos (Cave of Hands) vs Cave of El Castillo

Chauvet Cave Bear vs Uffington White Horse

Laocoön and His Sons vs Winged Victory of Samothrace

Crouching Aphrodite vs Statue of Taweret

Guardian Figure vs Kūya-Shonin (Saint Kuya)

Ancient Greek doll vs Arena #7 (Bears)

Enbu (炎舞) (Dancing in the Flames) vs Yearning Shadows

Belfast to Byzantium vs Freedom

Set 6

The Kama Sutra of Vatsyayan vs Portraits

The Blood Mirror vs Nighthawks

Electric Fan (Feel it Motherfuckers): Only Unclaimed Item from the Stephen Earabino Estate vs "Untitled" (Portrait of Ross in L.A.)

Lady Agnew of Lochnaw vs Forgotten Dreams

Saint Bride vs Pixeles (a group of 9 works)

War Pieta vs The Sunset

The Handmaidens of Sivawara Preparing the Sacred Bull at Tanjore for a Festival vs Ajax and Cassandra

Nāve (Death) vs Abstraction

Set 7

Yes vs Meeting on the Turret Stair

Hacked to Death II vs Stańczyk

Closeness Lines Over Time vs Voice of Fire

The Maple Trees at Mama, the Tekona Shrine and Tsugihashi Bridge vs Portrait of Sir Thomas More

Survival Series: In a Dream You Saw a Way vs Takiyasha the Witch and the Skeleton Spectre

Death blowing bubbles vs The Kitchen Table Series

Painting 1946 vs In the Grip of Winter

Untitled (Black and Gray) vs NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt

Set 8

Blue Plate Special vs Red Cedar

Palace of Fine Arts vs Mosque–Cathedral of Córdoba

Le Château des Pyrénées (The Castle of the Pyrenees) vs Susanna and the Elders, Restored - X-Ray

Moby Dick vs Viva la Vida, Watermelons

Venus Envy Chapter One (Of the First Holy Communion Moments Before the End) vs how to look at art

St. Sebastian vs Untitled #12

Carroña vs The invincible one

Untitled (Two Dogs) vs The Dog

SECOND HALF

Set 9

David (Donatello) vs David (Michelangelo)

The Other Side vs The Temptation of St. Jerome

Seated Woman with Bent Knees vs Starry Night

Headdress - Shadae vs Untitled for the Image Flow's Queer Conscience exhibit

Woman with Dead Child (Frau mit totem Kind) vs Les Amants (The Lovers)

Siroče na majčinom grobu (Orphan on Mother's Grave) vs You Make My World a Better Place to Find

Fighting Against SARS Memorial Architectural Scene (弘揚抗疫精神建築景觀) vs Fallingwater

Resting vs The Hull

Set 10

Olive Trees vs Worship

Glow vs Wheatfield with Crows

Study after Velázquez's Portrait of Pope Innocent X vs Untitled (He Plays Very Badly)

D.I.Y. by John Wiswell vs The Tragedy

Judith and the Head of Holofernes vs Beethovenfries (Beethoven Frieze)

The Memory of Me (How Could I Forget) vs oh god i had a really big epiphany about love and personhood but i’m too drunk for words

I am happy because everyone loves me vs 瀕危形態 (Endangered Forms)

Three Scaffolders vs Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan

Set 11

San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk vs Water-Lilies, Reflection of a Weeping Willow

The Grief of the Pasha vs Monolith in Vigeland Sculpture Park

Passion vs Space Diner

Hamlet and Ophelia vs Two Earthlings

Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth vs Seer Bonnets

Photograph from "SNAP OSAKA" Collection vs Clytemnestra after the Murder

“Untitled” (Perfect Lovers) vs The Lovers (TIE)

Kedai Ubat Jenun vs Orange Store Front

Set 12

The Apotheosis of War vs Portrait of the Dancer Aleksandr Sakharov

Julie Manet vs Mouth

The Icebergs vs Kaleidoscope Cats III

Maman vs Caza Nocturna (Night Hunt)

The Book of Kells Folio 188r: Luke carpet page vs Ardagh Chalice

Yusuf and Zulaikha vs Dome of the Rock mosaics

Rowan Leaves and Hole vs Untitled (prisonhannibal)

Le Désespéré (The Desperate Man) vs The Dedication

Set 13

Deimos vs Dog and Bridge

The Mocking of Christ vs Prudence

The Broken Column vs Siberian Ice Maiden shoulder tattoo

Transi de René de Chalon (Cadaver Tomb of René of Chalon) vs Head of Christ

The Day vs Spirit of Haida Gwaii

Eleanor Boathouse at Park 571 vs Jatiya Sangsad Bhaban জাতীয় সংসদ ভবন (National Parliament House)

Juventud de Baco (Bacchus Youth) vs Barges on the Seine

Oath of the Horattii closeup vs Visit hos Excentrisk Dam (Visit to an eccentric lady)

Set 14

Christ Crucified (With Donor) vs St. Francis

Thunder Raining Poison vs Piazza d'Italia

The Grove vs Among the Waves

Pintura Mural de Alarcón vs Sagrada Família stained-glass windows

Noonday Heat vs La Dame à la licorne (The Lady and The Unicorn)

Matroser i Gröna Lund (Sailors in Gröna Lund) vs Gielda Plakatu

Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks vs The Garden of Earthly Delights

Kuoleman puutarha (The Garden of Death) vs Haavoittunut enkeli (The Wounded Angel)

Set 15

i've wasted a lifetime pretending to be me vs da oracle

minus #37 vs Panel from Fun Home

Excerpt from illustrated edition of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner vs La Mort de Marat (The Death of Marat)

The Veil vs Düsseldorf 4 (Museum Kunst Palast)

Capriccio vs Zodiac calendar for La Plume

The official imperial portrait of empress dowager Cixi vs José y Maria

Blooming Lilacs vs Lágrimas De Sangre (Tears of Blood)

An Interlude vs Boy Staring at an Apparition

Set 16

Mermer Waiskeder: Stories of the Moving Tide vs The Gran Hotel Ciudad de México Art Nouveau interior

Unfinished Painting vs To Arms!

Memorial to a Marriage vs The Island

Dropping a Han Dynasty Urn vs A Few Small Nips

Saturn Devouring His Son vs Guernica

Fairy Princesses vs Lamentation over the Dead Christ

Mummy with An Inserted Panel Portrait of a Youth vs Little Girl Looking Downstairs at Christmas Party

Agnus vs The Cup Of His Murders Is Flowing Over And In His Coat Shall Be Many Curses

#art that fucks you up tournament #announcement #links are in the read more!

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kafkaesquef · 5 months

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Self-Portrait in Blue Bathroom, London 1980, Nan Goldin / Bluets, Maggie Nelson

#blue #bluets #maggie nelson #nan goldin #photography #poems #comp #of light #compiling photographs with poems #want to make this an anthology #todd hido while explaining his photographs said well if i was a word person i wouldn't be doing this and yeah that triggered this #web weaving #to be continued

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paolo-streito-1264 · 1 year

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Nan Goldin - Self-Portrait in Blue Bathroom, London 1980.

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dawnslight-aegis · 4 months

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kaede's house lore walkthrough

I feel ridiculously self-indulgent today so I am going to take y'all on a guided tour of kaede's ingame house (crystal, malboro, mist, ward 19 plot 44, come visit it's nicer in person) with commentary on the decorations and lore behind them.

First off, the exterior!

before we go any further I would like you all to kindly pretend that the housing lottery DOESN'T hate me, and imagine that this is actually in the firmament. good? good.

due to its location and also some unfortunate exterior choices by my neighbors, the garden is not strictly canon-compliant, but it's close. especially the hot spring and training yard.

Foyer

here we have a large open entryway because I ran out of housing slots, with kaede's "war table" where she does all her mission planning (complete with much needed caffeine supply) and her adventuring alcove, aka the place she drops all her gear the moment she steps through the door.

of particular note: the gemseeker's pack (she's a goldsmith) and the flame armoire (a relic from her earliest adventuring days).

Kitchen

kaede doesn't cook, so the kitchen is pretty small and barebones, with at least half of it given over to alcohol storage. don't worry about it, she's fine. probably.

also from a decorating perspective, the kitchen is built over the stairwell to the unused basement, which I'm very proud of. if we ever get a housing item increase, I'll relocate the kitchen and bathroom to the basement lmao

Dining Room/Bar

the dining room features the first of our Elezen Man Portraits that kaede has scattered around her home. louisoix saved her parents at carteneau, so she has an enormous respect for the man. and overlooking the bar, on a nice warm hearth, is her portrait of Haurchefant. she wanted him to be somewhere welcoming.

of particular note: the food on the table was chosen to be lore compliant for kaede's favorite dinner guests -- the gourmet supper for herself, the high house supper set (what was served during the dinner date in 3.4) for aymeric, the alpine supper set (specifically mentioned as being special occasion food for rural ishgardians) for estinien, and the oriental supper for her nagxian co-wol, marz.

the servants are lore-compliant but they're not usually there -- they just come in every now and again to check on the place when kaede's gone.

Workshop

on the other side of the house is her crafting workshop! half of it is dedicated to her primary vocation, goldsmithing, while the other half is for less delicate metalwork (blacksmith and armorer). she also prefers to make her tea in here rather than venturing into her kitchen.

of particular note: the crystals on the floor are meant to be crafting crystals, and are wind/ice/fire/earth to correspond with the crystals required for the three crafting classes featured. the portrait of estinien is of...dubious lore-compliance. if it's actually there, she definitely just did it to annoy him. or because marz bought it and needed somewhere to store it. mostly it's there because I personally love estinien.

Stairwell/2nd Floor Hall

you might recognize that stairwell from basically any low effort gpose I've ever taken. yes I like window walls. anyway. the second floor hall is basically a trophy room -- kaede recently started keeping mementos from difficult/important battles. hydaelyn's crystal is given particular honor, while emet-selch and zodiark are banished to the far side of the stairwell so she doesn't have to think about them. it also features her paladin armor collection.

the house borel wallpaper is a little on the nose but I know what I'm about okay

Bedroom

do you know how hard it is to get a nice blue bed in this game? it's so annoying. the headboard is the footboard of an oasis canopy bed clipped into the wall, in case you were curious. I also keep waiting for them to put in a properly blue rug. anyway. also included is her letter-writing desk, and her vanity.

of particular note: the aymeric portrait is canon, the armor on the stand is the house fortemps chainmail she was given for the grand melee, the music boxes are prototypes for the ones she made for her clients in the GSM 60 quests. also she has a house borel teaset on her vanity next to her absurd collection of makeup and lotions.

Sitting Room/Library

perhaps in the hallway you noticed that the hydaelyn trophy's wings were oddly missing. that's because they are being used to frame the portrait of minfilia, who kaede cared for very much. you might also note my use of curtains instead of doors -- that's honestly just because enclosing rooms in this game makes me terribly claustrophobic. I don't think kaede is actually anti-door.

Drawing Room

one of my very favorite parts of the whole house, this room is given over to kaede's artistic pursuits -- namely, her love of piano, and her attempt at branching out from sketching into paint. she feels a great responsibility to depict the landscapes from her travels that most people will never see, and all the paintings on the wall in here are her work.

the "no entry" door goes to her bathroom, which is actually built in my FC chambers, since I ran out of space in my house. I was going to include it here, but tumblr is rude and only allows 30 images per post, sooo... some other time, maybe.

if you made it to the end of this, bless you for caring about my lizard and her lore <3

#ffxiv housing #lore #this is so long lmao

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steddilystranger · 11 months

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blue butterfly (a life is strange au)

blue butterfly is a story-based fic that features reader choice. the consequences of your collective choices will affect the past, present, and future. the poll, with a duration of one week, is below the cut. choose wisely...

masterlist || part one (you are here) || cw: homophobic language, character death

Wind whips against Steve’s face. He struggles through the storm.

Where am I? he thinks to himself. What’s happening?

A light cuts through his rain-soaked world, and Steve wheels on his heel. “The lighthouse!” he says aloud, droplets of rain seeping through his hair and clothes. “I just have to make it there!”

He ignores the feeling in his gut that is pulling him back to the town and stumbles forward, wiping the rain from his eyes periodically. He gets close to the base of the lighthouse, breaking out of all the trees, and finally sees the storm for the first time.

Holy fucking shit.

It can only be described as a cross between a hurricane and a tornado. It must be miles high, sweeping towards the small town of Hawkins below.

As Steve watches, the strong winds whisk a boat from the bay below and slam it into the top of the lighthouse. Debris crumbles down, heading straight for Steve’s head.

Steve sits forward, gasping for breath quietly.

A dream.

That’s all it was.

Realistic dream, horrifyingly so, but a dream nonetheless.

His professor, Dr. Brenner, is pacing around the classroom, talking animatedly with his hands. “Photography is subjective. I could frame any one of you in a dark room, watching you turn from the light to the dark.”

Vickie’s phone buzzes. Someone throws a ball of paper at that Byers kid, Jonathan.

Steve glances up at the clock, noticing it’s getting close to the end of class. He starts to subtly slip his Polaroid camera into the case, but accidentally hits the button, causing the flash to go off in his face. All eyes are drawn to him.

“I believe Steve has taken what you young people call a ‘selfie’”. Brenner says. “I hate that word. Sounds so unrefined for what is a classical photography technique. Mr. Harrington, can you tell me the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?”

Steve doesn’t want to talk out of his ass, especially not in front of this room of pretentious art nerds. He’s only taking this class because Robin thought it’d be good for him, especially after he got kicked off the basketball team. One too many concussions is apparently where the coach drew the line.

He shakes his head, and Brenner tuts disappointedly. “If you had done the assigned reading last night, you’d know.” Vickie raises her hand. ”Vickie?”

She answers it perfectly. “A French painter called Louis Daguerre created the process called the Daguerreotype that gave portraits a sharp reflective style, like a mirror.”

“Very good!” Dr. Brenner congratulates her. “Yes, precisely.”

The bell rings and everyone stands up to leave, Dr. Brenner’s voice rising above the clamor. “I’m expecting your photographs for the Everyday Hero contest by this Friday! Jeff, that means you. Jonathan, thanks for your submission. And yes, Steve, I see you pretending not to see me.”

Steve steps out into the hallway, sidling around groups of people. He passes by the notice board and takes a cursory glance at it, noting the new poster pinned up. There’s been a poster up for the missing Byers twins, William and Eleanor, for a couple months now, but now a new missing poster. Chrissy Cunningham.

He knows Chrissy.

Not well, of course, but she had gone to school around here back when Steve’s family lived here, before he’d moved away to Seattle. He hadn’t seen her since he transferred back to come to Blackwell, but he didn’t know she was missing.

Someone bumps into his shoulder roughly, and Steve disappears into the blissfully empty bathroom and takes a breath.

A movement catches his eye. A blue butterfly flutters in through the open window.

Robin’s always saying I should “capture the moment”, Steve thinks to himself, drawing his camera out of his bag. Fine. Captured.

He snaps a picture of the blue butterfly as it lands on the small lock of the shitty stall doors, opening and closing its wings lazily, as if putting on a show just for him.

The door slams open behind him and Steve reflexively dodges into the stall, muffling his breath with his hand. He peers through the crack in between the stall and the door. The butterfly flutters out the top of the stall and away.

The back of someone dressed in leather and chains, with long, curly hair, is to him. They’re facing someone who Steve unfortunately recognizes.

Billy Hargrove.

“You bitch!” he spits. “I can’t fuckin’ believe you!”

“What?” the mysterious boy taunts, gravelly and low, and Steve thinks he sounds familiar, even though he can’t put his finger on why. “Mad that I cut you off, Hargrove?”

Billy shoves the boy. “I’m paying you money, fag, why do you give a damn how I use the shit I bought?”

“Because I saw you giving it to kids, asshole!” he retorts right back. “And I got it on tape. So you can either fork over some cash and the remainder of the shit I sold you, or I take this to the cops.”

There’s a sharp breath, and the glint of something metal suddenly hits Steve’s eye.

Billy’s aiming a handgun at the boy.

“You are pissing me off.” he grunts, and Steve knows enough about guns to see that the safety’s off. “I bet no one would even miss you, queer!”

The boy backpedals, letting Billy eclipse Steve’s sliver of view. He’s clutching his hand to his mouth, feeling his nails dig sharp crescent moons into his cheek.

He can’t just sit here.

Steve slams the door open, hand outstretched, prepared to snarl at Billy to get the fuck away from him, but the sound startles him, and the gun goes off.

Right into the boy’s stomach.

The world turns black and white, silent save for a ringing in his ears.

Someone died.

Someone died and Steve was too cowardly to stop it.

And then he’s back in class.

Brenner’s talking. “Photography is subjective. I could frame any one of you in a dark room, watching you turn from the light to the dark.” he says.

I heard this lecture already. Steve thinks. Wait, no. Calm down, Harrington. This is just…serious deja vu.

Vickie’s phone buzzes, and Steve watches someone throw a paper ball at Jonathan. His hand slips and knocks his camera off his desk. It shatters, pieces scattering all over the ground.

Fuck. Robin bought him that.

Hesitantly, Steve reaches out his hand, and it’s like the world moves in reverse around him. His camera pieces levitate off the ground, fitting themselves back together, and the whole camera, now intact, settles itself back on his desk.

Holy shit.

Steve cannot process this. He watches the same things happen, Vickie’s phone and the paper ball, and stares at his hands.

Purposefully this time, he picks up his camera and snaps a picture of himself.

Brenner wheels on him. “I believe Steve has taken what you young people call a ‘selfie’. I hate that word. Sounds so unrefined for what is a classical photography technique. Mr. Harrington, can you tell me the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?”

Steve sits up straighter, trying to remember what Vickie said last time. “Uh, the… Daguerre process?”

Brenner laughs. “Close! Vickie, would you like to help him out?”

“A French painter called Louis Daguerre created the process called the Daguerreotype that gave portraits a sharp reflective style, like a mirror.” she says.

Steve reaches out his hand again. The world warps and inverts. “Mr. Harrington,” Brenner says again, “can you tell me the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?”

“A French painter called Louis Daguerre created the process called the Daguerreotype that gave portraits a sharp reflective style, like a mirror.” Steve parrots Vickie, and feels a swell of victory in his chest when Brenner beams.

He also feels a swell of nausea. He’s gone back in time, what, three times now? What’s happening?

The bell rings and Steve sweeps his stuff into his bag. He begins mouthing along to Brenner’s speech. “I’m expecting your photographs for the Everyday Hero contest by this Friday! Jeff, that means you. Jonathan, thanks for your submission.”

Steve dodges into the hallway. “And yes, Steve, I see you pretending not to see me.” he mutters as Brenner finishes his spiel.

Everything’s the same as Steve slips through the crowd. The missing posters, the conversation snippets, the bathroom being empty.

The butterfly’s gone, though. Steve doesn’t know what to make of that.

He folds himself into his hiding spot early, waiting.

Right on cue, the door slams open and Billy comes in with that mysterious boy.

They begin to argue again, and Steve leans forward. If this really isn’t a dream, and if Steve waits too long again, the boy will die. Again.

Steve can’t let that happen.