#Willem Boot

[illiana-mystery]

Well what do you know? It's Wednesday already!

[knittinganddrinkingtea]

Courrèges Fall 2022

Model: Kiki Willems

[bellarkeselection]

His Compass of Harrenhal - part 3

Part 2 - Part 4

Tag list - @only4thefics @superintenseart @universallyrascaldreamercookie @uniquecroissant @vavafaure1994

It had been a few weeks before we had received the news that Grover Tully had died. Once receiving that letter I hadn’t managed to will myself out of my bed chambers that I shared with Daemon. Having my whole body buried underneath the covers while I just cried in a ball hearing the heavy door creak open and my husband’s voice came out into the room. “Y/n, what are you doing underneath the covers?”

“I’m not feeling well, husband.” I muttered not removing the covers off of my face while I cried. I wasn’t quite sure how much emotion I could show towards him about the passing of my Lord father.

His boots could be heard scuffing across the stone floor till I felt the mattress dip down at his weight while he crawled underneath the covers and wrapped his arms around my shaking form seeing the tears still coming from my eyes. “I don't really know what it's like to lose a parent. But I don't remember as much of my mother as I wish I did.” He gently ran his through my hair letting my tears soak his shirt with tears.

“I'm really glad you’re here. I don't want to be alone right now.” I snuff into the crook or his neck.

He kissed the crown of my head before he heard someone knock on our door. “I'm right here, little fish - Go away. We don't wish to be disturbed!”

“My apologies, my prince. Simon peaked his head inside our chambers altering us. “The Riverlands lords are waiting for you, your grace.”

Daemon and I followed Strong outside seeing all the Riverland lords and young Oscar waiting for us. I fixed my gaze only on my nephew. “Be welcome, my lords...and you have my thanks for answering my summons. I know I'm not the man my grandsire was, but I hope to begin well, and go on from there.” My very nervous nephew cleared his throat trying to address the bannermen properly.

Daemon moved away from my side shaking his fist in the air before pointing to the young lord. “Well said. One thing is clear...the Rivermen honor the old ways and abide by tradition. Here, then, is tradition. Grover Tully is dead. Lord Oscar raised up in his place. You have been summoned here to swear anew your fealty to him, and as his bannermen, answer his call.”

“And what would that call be?” A Riverlord I couldn’t recall the name of asked out into the open.

Daemon rested his left hand on the top handle of his sword that was attached to his hip. “In his wisdom, he has pledged his house, and yours, to me.”

“Lord Oscar, for generations we have been guided by the judgment of your forebears. Why should we now follow a boy, younger than my own sons, when you will align with one who will desecrate the innocent to reach his aims?” Lord Piper challenged my nephew.

Lord Blackwood pushed two other men who had chains wrapped around their wrists before the group. “I did only what was necessary, my lord. And I now deliver to you the traitor. Amos Bracken and his son.”

“No more traitor to his land. than you, Willem Blackwood.” Lord Piper scoffed at Lord Blackwood.

“I take to heart your words, Lord Piper, and I agree, I-I-I am young. And I have no love for Daemon Targaryen, unlike my beloved Aunt Y/n seems to. He has dishonored himself and the crown with his...comportment here.” Oscar turned back towards me and Daemon very slowly making me feel nervous knowing that me choosing to be with Daemon now put a target on my back against my former family House Tully. “Nevertheless, having so little experience to guide me, my best course is to defer to the oath my grandsire swore to King Viserys when he named Rhaenyra his heir. I see no reason to cast aside loyalty. no matter how loathsome I may find her representative, the prince.”

Daemon interrupted the young lord. “King. Mind your tongue, boy.”

“Daemon, don’t.” I stepped forward squeezing his forearm causing his purple eyes to drift down to meet my soft gaze.

Oscar slowly stalked over to the dragon prince getting in his face not fazed by what he had said. “Will you have our army or not? I am, in the end, a Riverman and the word of my house stands, even if certain people are unworthy of it.”

“Your Lord Oscar is bold. But he is perhaps not wrong. I may have been a touch enthusiastic. in pursuing my aims. But don't allow my failings to...keep you from supporting an upright man.” Daemon stepped beside Oscar shifting his gaze around to the other lords that surrounded them.

Lady Mallister spoke up. “Lord Oscar, we honor the old ways, as Prince Daemon says and the old ways call for justice to be done.”

“Justice has been done. They who bent the knee to the usurper have been brought to heel. And now, we unite before our liege lord...and our king consort.” Lord Blackwood yanked the two men who were his prisoners forward, eyeing his ledge lord to see if he was impressed or not by his actions.

“I accept you as my vassal, Willem Blackwood… but...I am Lord Paramount of all River Houses. And there is only one answer for the crimes you visited upon your neighbors.” Oscar raised a brow with a look of disgust to him.

Lord Blackwood wasn’t expecting that reaction from his lord. “I did only what His Grace the king required of me.”

“It is true that he made clear his base desires, but you did not have to pursue such savagery. You did it... because you wanted to.” Oscar deepened his voice in a threatening manner to one of his bannermen.

Another lord in the crowd raised his voice. “Our young lord speaks truly.”

Oscar simply declared. “Seize him.”

“God's no.” I gasped and brought a hand up to my lips briefly forgetting how we dealt with traitors in the Riverlands.

Willem Blackwood attempted to fight against his loyal lords dragging him before their Ledge Lord. “Don't fuckin' do this. Your Grace, command them. I've only served you. Command them.”

“If His Grace wishes to show contrition for his acts and to prove himself deserving of our banners he must now rectify his grievous error. Denounce your crimes...and dispense justice.” Oscar didn’t draw his sword and rather focused his eyes on the dragon prince telling him that he would be the one to take the lord's head.

“Oh, dear.” The knight who currently watches over the castle watched with nerves when my husband drew his sword and moved forward over Lord Blackwood who had been thrown down in front of him on his knees.

I didn’t realize a scream escaped my lips at the exact same time when Daemon raised his sword above his head and then lowered it beheading the man. “Ahh! D - Daemon.” I croaked with water eyes as he came back over to me, dropping his sword on the ground and just leading me inside the old castle.

“I didn’t think you’d have to see something like that. Are you - is the baby okay?” He asked me with a much gentler tone compared to the more serious one he had delivered to the Riverland Lords outside.

Placing one hand over his that was resting on my swollen belly I whispered meeting his eyes. “We’re alright, my king.”

“Good. I won’t lose my wife and little dragon if I can help it.” Daemon rested his forehead down against mine and I smiled about to kiss him till another set of doors around was flung opened by Simon Strong.

“Your Grace, my lady. Queen Rhaenyra has landed near the castle. She is requesting your presence, my prince.”

Clutching the fabric of Daemon's tunic in my fingers he pulled my head against his chest while I whispered under my breath very much terrified. “That can't be good for me.” Either she would accept me or try go feed me to her dragon.

[chasingthedragons]

Armours & wardrobe of House Blackwood

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LORD SAMWELL BLACKWOOD of RAVENTREE HALL [mentioned only]

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SER WILLEM BLACKWOOD younger brother of Lord Samwell Blackwood & regent of RAVENTREE HALL

1 - Gala robe in velvety gray with black buttons. Red leather collar with two black raven, a black leather belt and his sword hanging from it.

2 - Black armor with red cloak held by a silver brooch over the right shoulder and the helmet of House Blackwood

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LORD BENJICOT BLACKWOOD son of Lord Samwell Blackwood [mentioned only]

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DAVOS BLACKWOOD

1 - Plain armor, black breastplate, red undergarment with black leather details. With a purple cloak with red and mustard details, held with a silver brooch over his right shoulder. Plus a black leather belt and a dagger hanging from it.

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Other Members

MEN OF HOUSE BLACKWOOD

1 - Simple clothes in the colors of House Blackwood, red short-sleeved upper garment, black trousers and black belt with a dagger hanging from it.

2 - Red long-sleeved upper garment, with a black sleeveless jacket, brown pants, brown leather belt and a dagger hanging from it.

3 - Red short-sleeved upper garment, with a black sleeveless doublet with black leather details, black trousers, leather belt and a dagger hanging from it.

4 - House Blackwood garments, brown doublet with a long black sleeveless leather jacket, brown pants, black leather boots and gloves. With a black cloak with red details held with a silver brooch over the right shoulder and a black leather belt.

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SOLDIERS OF HOUSE BLACKWOOD

1 - Leather armor, capes and helmets of House Blackwood

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The big Book of Fashion [HotD]

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[transmutationisms]

can i ask you some of your thoughts on nosferatu regarding one, the hardings? two, i though Nichlas hoult acting was great, the best on there imo, what about you? and three, what was the scene between ellen and thomas where she confesses what happened to her supposed to mean?

i thought this adaptation had approximately the correct amount of the hardings, which is to say not very much but they're there to contrast very blonde-ly and married-ly against ellen with her hysterical spells and high sensitivity and fragile body that is prone to being invaded by destabilising forces of eastern influence. killing off anna did annoy me on principle and the arthur character was kind of useless & pointless after that so i do wish eggers had been willing to break with previous adaptations more on that. but situating ellen in the bourgeois nuclear family home while she's fighting with her shame over what she perceives as her culpability in her own sexual abuse is very effective horror, and i did like when anna and ellen are in bed together or even just walking on the beach or whatever -- this film is not driven by character studies by any means but their intimacy is decently shorthanded i think.

i was not really a fan of hoult's performance tbh i thought it was mostly forgettable. lily rose depp was good and willem defoe was reliably good. none of the acting jumped out to me as terrible but i would say hoult's was the weakest.

i'm not sure exactly what you mean by 'what does it mean' haha but i thought it was emblematic of what really works in eggers's decision to foreground sexual abuse like this. first of all this scene is one of the only times i've ever cared about the jonathan/mina characters' relationship because it gives us actual insight into their dynamic -- both of them care for one another, but jonathan has difficulty fully comprehending the gravity of what ellen is telling him, and when he does react to her confession that she (believes she has) asked for & brought on the evil that is orlok, he recoils from her, despite having only just confessed that he too has been violated by orlok. jonathan resolves the crisis for himself by interpreting ellen's confession as his call to heroism, positioning himself as saviour in a way that he believes will also override the feminising effects of his rape at orlok's hands (note also that ellen herself calls jonathan effeminate for this). but ellen throughout the entire film is the character who comes closest to understanding what'a actually going on, despite her distorted conviction for most of it that she is uniquely perverted & blameworthy, and the confession scene too shows us that ellen is unconvinced by this idea of going hand to hand with the monster and saving the day. the film's actual terrain is in the emotional pull & conflict between ellen and orlok. she knows from the jump that jonathan's little saviour fantasy is an irrelevant detour; her superstitions / connection to the occult figure her as a cassandra & telegraph to us in the confession scene that she cares terribly for jonathan but simultaneously knows that neither of them can save the other. for jonathan the scene is an unburdening, and he believes this to be the happy outcome of having confessed; what we see instead is that his burden has merely been shouldered silently by the film's actual hero, ellen. herzog tried to pull this off in his 1979 adaptation but thematically eggers achieves more of that vision here, and with almost as many cats to boot.

[tyranasauruslex]

Thinking about modern era Davos being really nervous about his first proper date with Aeron. Nobody is happy that they’re dating and the weight of his surname being saddled with so much trauma for the Bracken family isn’t helping much. Everything has to be perfect, just so he can prove to everyone that he’s worth Aerons time and attention. He spends a ridiculous amount of money reserving a table at the Riverlands most exclusive restaurant, despite not knowing what half the stuff on the menu is. Next is an overpriced suit he spent ages picking out and some expensive gel for his hair. It’s not his usual look but at least it’s clear Davos is making an effort.

Aeron on the other hand is confused. He thought that they would be going out for pizza and beer like they usually do. It’s become “their” spot and having their first official date there seemed like a given. He also can’t eat anything at the place Davos picked because he’s vegan and it’s all meat and fish on the menu. There’s also the fact that they’re clearly dressed for two different occasions - Davos in his odd suit and him in jeans, shirt and boots. Aeron always liked Davos’ leather jackets and combat boots so seeing him in a suit is weird. As is the way hes slicked his hair back like he’s from the 1950s.

The first few minutes at the restaurant are awkward, especially when they find out Aeron can only order the side salad to eat. The waiter also keeps side eyeing Aeron’s casual attire, making it known that he’s clearly not dressed for the occasion.

Feeling like he’s fucked everything up, Davos ends up storming out. Everyone is going to find out how shit of a boyfriend he is and that Aeron should never have given him the time of day. They end up having a row in the middle of the street with Davos yelling at Aeron that he may as well go ahead and dump him like his family wanted all along.

Aeron is equally as annoyed when he hears all this; he’s not made of glass and he’s got a brain of his own. It’s his choice who he goes out with, not anyone elses. And it’s Willem who’s got the problem with them dating, not Amos. And he loves Davos, even if he is acting like big, stupid idiot and wearing an ugly suit with weird hair.

This stops Davos dead in his tracks because they haven’t said the L word to each other yet. Now Aeron is even more annoyed with Davos because yelling at him in the middle of the street wasn’t how he pictured telling Davos that he loves him for the first time.

He’s about to make a dramatic exit when David grabs him and tells him that he loves him too, even if he does smell like horses sometimes and spends too long washing his precious hair.

They end up back in their favourite booth at the pizza place and annoying all the other patrons with how disgustingly in love with each other they are.

[amostimprobabledream]

Thoughts on Beetlejuice Beetlejuice *SPOILERS*

The Good:

The reveal that Astrid could see ghosts this whole time and that Jeremy was actually a ghost was genuinely really good - I didn't see it coming but in hindsight it was so obvious. The whole bit about him trying to trick Astrid into giving her life for his was so fun.

Michael Keaton was a treat to watch as usual - all the actors seemed to be having the times of their lives, especially him, Willem Dafoe and Monica Bellucci. I was actually laughing out loud at some of the scenes he was in and I appreciate that they used him sparingly. I also thought the gag of Willem Dafoe's character being a former actor who liked pretending to be a cop and his secretary kept fetching him coffees and feeding him his lines was genuinely funny.

I was on the fence about Astrid because from what I got from the promotional material she seemed pretty bratty and whiny, but I think her frustrations with Lydia and her life in general were generally fairly understandable and I think she and Winona Ryder had great chemistry. Also I want Astrid's wardrobe, that sweater-dress with the bike shorts and boots? An absolute serve.

It's cool that Tim Burton and Michael Keaton both insisted on building sets instead of relying on CGI to do everything, I think that one of the charming things about the first movie was the handmade feel of the sets and they managed to capture a lot of it in this one. I mean, they do use SOME CGI, especially where Beetlejuice is involved, but I think it's good they didn't just rely on greenscreens.

Banger soundtrack, as usual, thanks to Danny Elfman.

Killing off Charles and Delia was surprising but I thought it was handled in a good way. I thought the actor who played Charles had died or something and when I googled why he wasn't in the sequel I think they did the best they could with the character. Catherine O'Hara sort of held together the Lydia/Astrid subplot for me, especially when she says to Lydia, "What happened to the angsty goth girl who gave me so much trouble? I think you need to find her!" The Bad: - This movie really made me appreciate the Maitlands more. The whole thing with the first movie is that Adam and Barbara ground it and give it a sense of normalcy - they have random, sudden, unfair deaths and as the audience we're thrown into the confusing world and rules of the afterlife as much as they are. In this movie I feel like everyone is too busy trying to be different flavours of wacky to feel real, which is fine for people like Beetlejuice or Delores but the human characters didn't feel like that had substance like the Maitlands.

Am I the only one who felt like this film felt kind of like a character assassination of Lydia?? I love Winona Ryder to death (pun unintended), but I feel like all she did in this movie is make that pop-eyed shocked face and say exposition. I'm sorry but am I meant to believe that Lydia Deetz, the only person in the first movie who could communicate with Adam and Barbara, called Otho, Lydia and her dad out on their shit multiple times and had the balls to make a deal with Beetlejuice to save the former, would seriously let some creepy man pressgang her into marriage? Not to mention I can't remember a single line of dialogue from Lydia, she's kind of been demoted to just being a depressed goth mom and that's kind of it. Also I felt like the way she was using her power for a TV show felt OOC when she was the only one who opposed the haunted house idea in the original. (Also Winona Ryder's hair looked terrible in the movie, it made sense for teenaged Lydia to have those gel spikes but on a Lydia who's hit fifty they look ridiculous. Like what, did her fashion sense never evolve past age fifteen?)

There were WAY too many subplots. I genuinely really liked the subplot with Astrid and Jeremy, and I think Beetlejuice and his ex-wife had a lot of potential, but the end of the movie was like Tim Burton forgot to keep track of every subplot he had going on and wrapped them up really unsatisfyingly.

Monica Bellucci's character was WAY underused. Like. I absolutely loved her design and stuff but she was walking around the whole movie attacking random people we don't give a shit about, and then in the climax she just stands there and lets herself get eaten. (That staple-face look would make a fire Halloween costume though.) I feel like the subplot with Lydia's creepy boyfriend/producer should have been cut so she had more time to shine.

The dialogue. Some of it was fine but other times phrases showed up that are so obviously going to become dated in a couple of years, it sounded like adults trying way too hard to be edgy and relatable to Gen Z viewers, like when Astrid goes "the afterlife is so random!" or that one woman describing something as "non-triggering". I don't remember the dialogue in the first movie feeling so buzzword-heavy.

Beetlejuice felt less like a threat this time. In the first movie he's more of a clear-cut antagonist but this time he's very clearly on Lydia's side and even dispatches all the other bad guys, so I think some of his more sinister energy was lost here.

The ending was really dumb ngl. It feels like it's setting up for a third one but Tim Burton was like "lol not gonna happen" so I have no idea why he chose to ending it like that.

[mordredsheart]

Nixe’s Top 10 Films Of 2024!

in chronological viewing order, including both new and new-to-me films from this year.

01. Poor Things

My empathy is creeping towards what I would describe a contemptuous rage.

I decided to go through my top 10 chronologically and start here, because, wow, did I end up having a hell of a lot to say about this one!

The actual craft of the film speaks for itself. I’ve loved Yorgos Lanthimos since The Favourite, and loved Emma Stone for over a decade of my life. Willem Dafoe might just be my second favorite cinematic Frankenstein now (following the protagonist of another film that will shortly appear on this list).

There are actually so many layers to the dialogue with Frankenstein here, which was one of my favorite aspects. Godwin and Bella move through a fascinating exchange of roles, with both of them at various points serving as the maker and the monster. Bella’s relationship, such as it is, with Godwin’s assistant carries through the same switchy mirror dynamic on Victor Frankenstein and Elizabeth Lavenza.

My father once told me, “Always carve with compassion.” He was a fucking idiot, but it’s not bad advice.

Bella’s costumes were another particular highlight for me, rocketing me back to my own young adulthood circa 2012 and all the contradictions therein. Her short petticoats look like my flimsy fast-fashion skater skirts, too short to be modest, but too feminine to be threatening. Her Victwardian boots reminded me of the high-heeled combat boots I lived in through college, all attempted coolness and edginess tempered by that contortion of the foot that generations before me fought to make non-obligatory for women trying to move through the world. Which brings me to my next point.

Kiss me and set me forth. If you do not, Bella’s insides shall turn rotten with hate.

The conversation surrounding this movie made me feel, not to put too fine a point on it, insane. It got so bogged down in the question of sex negativity versus sex positivity, and much has been made of the “sexy baby” problem. To me, those criticisms miss the forest for the trees. Men are happy to take advantage of Bella and her child’s brain, and, at first, Bella - ignorant and only able to make sense of it through the reactions of her body - is happy with those circumstances, too. But, as her intelligence develops and matures, and she begins to think for herself and see the world in her own way, she is met with disgust, horror, and outrage. The men who embraced her while her ignorant sexuality suited them chide and condemn her as soon as she starts expressing it in ways offensive to the patriarchy. Naturally, Bella reacts in the only logical way - with annoyed bafflement! Bodies *should* be neutral things. Sex *should* be a neutral act. Bella is evolved enough to see that; the problem is that the society she lives in - and the men who dominate it - are not.

(You’re always reading now, Bella. You’re losing some of your adorable way of speaking.) I am a changeable feast. As are all of we.

There was a lot of debate over whether this was a feminist film or not, but it goes beyond that, too. Bella is a person, an autonomous, rational living thing. It’s men who name her a woman and it’s men who try to punish her when she refuses to move through the world in accordance with the designation they foisted upon her. Bella flatly refuses to be made in anyone’s image except her own, the image she strives to freely cultivate from her personal experience, uninhibited by flimsy constructs. As she puts it...

We are all on a ship and cannot escape. And there is a world to enjoy, traverse, circumnavigate.

But Bella does escape (evade, transcend), in time. So may we all.

[chibishortdeath]

Whenever I do pose studies it’s usually with Simon—

Explaining them all under a cut as per usual :3

Most of these are based on stock photos lol. I ran into a set of them that was just people in business suits being absolutely distraught and lmao yeah. Simon can be a little pathetic if he wants to, we all are sometimes. Anyway I picked this one specifically for the high heels. I think Simon would be the kind of guy to have a panic attack in Dracula’s castle and somehow not roll his ankle in his heeled boots even once 💀💀💀. Idk what else to say about this one uhhhhhhhhhhhh—

Simon seconds after being cursed with the knives subweapon right before a boss battle. Especially annoying because he had the cross boomerang, basically fills the role of knives but way way better 😔…… also noooo I forgot to draw the sword on his belt 💀. I’ve been trying to keep that consistent, even if the Belmonts like don’t really use the sword at all lmao. I’ve always assumed that it’s probably canonically Leon’s sword, of course before Leon was created as a character it was likely just generic sword or sword from a then unnamed ancestor, but yeah. I like to think Simon uses it for like really tough close combat situations, either that or it’s just a back up in case anything happens. It’s also just really fun resting your hand on a sword sometimes hmmm very practical hand rest—

Two more various defeated poses. The top one is practically just his death pose from like was it chronicles that has him lay flat all the way—? No… ok most of his death poses have him with his ass in the air X,,,,,,,,D. He dies in a faceplant with his knees a little inward just right so that he’s making a perfect quarter circle shape on the ground lol. But I do remember seeing one death animation where he lays flat hmmm what game was it…… it’s not CV4 is it… hmm what mystery. Also I just noticed that I haven’t been drawing a part in his hair until recently??? Idk why not lol it’s something. Tbh drawing the top part of his hair is stupid difficult because I over exaggerate his bangs and I don’t want them to clash or bleed into each other, otherwise the top of his head is kinda hard to see (X X ). But this top angle of it isn’t too bad to draw :3

Another one, still stock photos so far. This one unfortunately his hands got all smudged up (-_- ;). Also his hair ended up covering all of the neck anatomy I drew R.I.P.

Finally, one with his face in view— He’s praying.. and giving a little side eye… kinda. Idk this was also a stock photo X,,,,D. Tried to make sure his headband tails where in these as much as possible cause I missed drawing them—

Another dynamic stock photo pose, this time not in that group of business person ones! It might have been a different weapon in the original image tho, but I made it the family sword :3. Then ironically I realized I had been forgetting the whip multiple times 💀💀💀. Idk maybe the context for these is that he was in a really difficult battle and got the whip (and eventually the sword) knocked out of his hand, that’s why he’s so freaked out rn too ig. He’s also got knife subweapon oh no pray for my man he’s struggling— And that bottom silly doodle says “glubtupis wepple” which is a caption I saw on a cat meme somewhere I think I don’t remember tbh 💀💀💀💀💀💀

This says “Willem Dafoe ass pose” because indeed this is a pose from Willem Dafoe. He did this once— I should draw Simon in Willem Dafoe poses like that page I made of him as various Jerma poses hmmmmm—

Suddenly very unrelated Simon’s Quest doodle that just so happens to be on the same sketchbook page, so it’s invited too. The text says “excuse me do you know where—“ “beat your fucking head in 💖🌈😇” “thanks! I’ll consider it!” and this was drawn based on that guy who says “go to Deborah Cliff, hit your head, and make a hole” and at like 1 am lol. That’s such a sentence tho like, anyway you read it is like not good 💀💀💀. He might be saying “beat your head in” or, uh, considering it’s a cliff— I need to replay the game again and actually write about it aaaaaaaaaaa, I have so many ideas (>< ). There’s also random chibi head angles above it for practice.

I saw a cute nightgown on Pinterest and immediately put Simon in it and I was right, he does look cute in it. It was also a really good practice for drawing fabric textures!!! Especially the ruffles on the bottom, they’re very loosely sewn, pretty far apart, subtle gathering— it wasn’t intentional, but you can kinda see his silhouette through the fabric a little so uh just imagine that it’s a thin fabric and light is going through it :3. The second doodle is him in other more modern pajamas. Shorts, t shirt, socks, the usual. I love how I drew his mouth in this one he’s so cute asdfghjkl (〃ω〃). These were both doodles done while I was sleepy so the sleepy vibes came through in them pretty well I think—

Another tiny doodle of that nightgown. You can either take it as him wearing one of Selena’s nightgowns or that Simon just has a cute, tiny, semi sheer, little, frilly nightgown of his own, both are very valid options—

[callooopie]

₊ ⊹ // Dull Abstracts, Duller Hearts \\ Micolash, Host of the Nightmare

“How essential to me, you have become.” - Sackville-West to Woolf

What’s Micolash to do, when his academic rival comes to sit by him to comfort him?

—

a/n: Have never written fanfic, only read it. This is really just a blurb I had to get out of my head is all. And for the most deranged and unhinged Bloodborne character at that 😵‍💫. So this is nothing too crazy, enjoy?

Warnings: allusions to gore(ish), metaphorical masochism(??), rushed ending(☹️), written on phone(format might be ugly and idk how to format in general)

Word Count: unknown

It wasn’t your fault you got that scholar all worked up over nothing. Well- to you it was nothing, to him it was everything. Once again your work, your research, was praised and accolades were given to you by master Willem. And once again, Micolash is left in the academic dust.

You find the man skulking by the lake, glittering in the moonlight. Dirtied boots kick at the dirt as you walk over to him from the entrance of Byrgenwerth.

“Moping again?”

You call out as you walk.

“Hardly- actually I am not moping. Quite the opposite, on the contrary.. yada yada..”

He replies grumpily, throwing another pebble into the lake. A mere drop that ripples across the surface. Either he’s actually being sarcastic and funny, or he is fully trying to convince you he is not moping. Whatever his motives, he only serves to look like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Well. Wrong. I can tell you’re moping.”

You reply back with the tiniest bit of smugness, sitting down beside him on the banks of the lake. Leaning back against your hands, your eyes slowly settle on the lake.

You let the comfortable silence overtake you both like the waters of that moonlit lagoon. Perhaps you have nothing to say, or maybe you’re just waiting for Micolash to crack, to begrudgingly start to complain or vent or do anything to voice his frustration. What you’re doing is condescending, it’s annoying, it’s comforting. And maybe there’s a sick part inside of him that revels in this comfort you give him, even under the guise of academic rivalry.

Micolash scoffs at your words, but doesn’t say anything. He’s not upset at you; he can’t be. You’re not making fun of him, you’re actually doing quite the opposite. You and him could go back and forth like the ebb and flow of tides.

It’s a bothersome notion to him, that just like how ocean waves can’t push and pull without the moon; he can’t imagine his life without you. Now the scholar’s just being dumb and romantic about someone who sees him as a rival, someone to beat out in studies and scholarly research. How vexing he thinks to himself. It’s enough to make him nauseous.

“I’m just looking at the lake.”

Micolash grumbles with annoyance plain in his voice. If only he had a cigarette, and if only he didn’t give his last one to Laurence. Damnable prick.

You say nothing, merely flashing a tiny smile as you continue to stare out onto the lake. Your head falls back as you lean against your hands behind you, lounging with the cool breeze that comes off the waters.

“I actually quite liked your study.”

You admit nonchalantly into the air.

“Perhaps master Willem and the others simply didn’t understand it.”

You suggest coolly as you tilt your head side to side slowly in a meandering motion. A highly unlikely scenario, however the idea is oddly comforting to Micolash. As much as he dislikes said idea. Was it a rule now that academic papers had to be understandable??

“I did though.”

You add on after a beat of silence, finally turning to look at Micolash fully. That look of yours; so curious, understanding, sympathetic- fucking gentle; everything that Micolash believes he shouldn’t be looked at with.

Something in your words strike him. Or actually- your words do strike him. Hard. Like a lightning bolt, like Cupid’s arrow. Like a quicksilver bullet from a pistol, all in a good way of course. Oh, you understood his essay? Obviously you did, you’re smart, terribly and beautifully smart. But you complimented him..through his work- ..which technically still counts as a compliment to him.

Micolash feels as if he could throw up any second.

“.. you did?”

He asks quickly with that turned up half-grin. He’s trying to be normal about it. Trying to hide his emotions that are whirling around inside like storms.

“Of course I did. Although- it was more like ramblings than a thought-out and planned dissertation.”

You say, eyes shifting to look up at the stars that hung overhead.

“However it was ..beautifully written. Much better than Laurence’s dull abstracts and compositions on blood.”

It was.. a backhanded compliment for sure, you were known for those. But Micolash found himself wanting more of it. Gods, you could slap him around all you want. Backhand him with your words or your touch, either way he’d soak it up and give you his very soul in return.

Hell- you could even gouge out his eyes, crack open his chest like they did with cadavers and corpse heads. Bury your hands in him and search for anything and everything. Split him open on the table and peer inside him long enough to know that you infect every bone and cell and crevice.

However you do it, any touch you offer him is a prayer he’ll hold fast.

“Easy to understand hm?”

Is all Micolash hums in reply. Very normal.

“Oh yes... You know, ..-I like to think that we think alike.”

You comment with a beaming smile, moving your focus from the stars and lake to the scholar right next to you. Oh gods, Micolash is fearing this is going in a direction he isn’t sure he’s good at, stepping into territory he’s unfamiliar in.

He never did like the idea of courting, especially other scholars at Byrgenwerth. After all why go through something where he might get hurt? Where he’ll be made a fool of so easily? He’s strange, his reputation is least desirable. Workaholic, annoying voice (according to some- or most), uncanny at times. He can’t woo a man or woman to save his life.

Micolash could visit any lady of the night, pay the price for whatever bleak and quick pleasure he wanted. But to actively pursue you? An angel that’s out of his league some twenty thousand times? Out of the damn question and a fate that’s out of his hands and control.

“..Alike? We?- you and I…- ah- yes. We… do share similarities in our… thoughts.”

Terrible. He stammers like an idiot. Micolash wonders if he could just slip into the lake out of embarrassment. Surely you wouldn’t care right? Oh what does it matter. As he stares at the surface of the lake, watching it wrinkle faintly in the light of the moon. He likes the moonlight, he likes you in the moonlight. Is it possible to be as beautiful as a celestial body? Obviously it is, you exist. Ugh, he could just desperately grasp at you with need and want and yearning. Like the tides reaching up for the moon and heavens, he too would reach up toward you.

Perhaps you’ll never love him, or you’ll never know he loves you. Well.. what’s actually stopping him from outright confessing to you? From attempting some shoddy confession at least? Why can he not just look at you, open his mouth, and go I love.. I love, I love- please oh I love-

“You coming along back inside? It’s getting cold now- certainly don’t want you ill if you’re to best me at our next research proposals.”

You’re standing over him now, a gentle smile donned on your face as you wait for Micolash. Oh fuck, how long exactly was he just staring dead at the water with thoughts of you. Micolash blinks at you before briskly nodding awkwardly and standing up. The ever tall and lanky scholar dusting off his uniform as he looks at you, as normally as he can possibly muster.

He won’t confess and be made the fool. Not this time.

“Lead the way.”

[catofthecanals289]

little max maybe please?

oh i wrote this ages and ages ago and it's the beginning of something kinda long but never published. hope you enjoy this little snippet of it anyway

--

Max is ten years old when he finds his mother’s packed bag hidden under a pile of laundry in a basket by the washer.

It’s the first day of the second week of school tomorrow and Max wants to wear his Sponge Bob shirt again because Willem, the boy who’s been seated next to Max said it was cool and they hadn’t talked much more that week because Willem likes playing soccer during breaks and talking to Fabian and Ruben who Max got into a fight with last year, but that first day he’d been nice and he’d asked Max if he thought Patrick was stupid too, if he found Sandy as annoying as he did and Max had had to admit that he never actually watched much Spongebob that the shirt was a gift by his uncle but Willem hadn’t seemed bothered so Max wants to wear the shirt again.

But he hadn’t found the shirt in his closet, so he’d asked his mom about it and she’d told him to not bother her, that she didn’t have time for this now, that she needed to go and do grown up stuff and that Max should be a good boy and leave mommy alone now.

She’d looked over her shoulder, had looked at Max, had looked at the hallway and back at him. She’d smiled tightly and she’d cupped his cheek for a moment, soft and gentle. But she hadn’t said anything else, so Max had run back up to his room, had checked the closet again only to still not find the shirt.

Victoria had been sitting in her room, door open, loudly making vroom noises, playing with her Barbie doll in her Barbie car and Max hadn’t asked if he could play with her, even if his dad was nowhere to be seen. He’d been still little and Victoria even little when their dad had caught Max playing with Victoria and her dolls, but Max still remember show much she had cried, how she’d wailed and hit her little fists on the floor because dad crushed the pink plastic car under the heel of his boot, when he’d ripped her doll out of Max’s hand tossed it into the trash.

Max had cried too, he thinks, but only after, and only because his cheek had hurt so much and his knuckles even more, bruised and aching because he’d still been holding the car, because he hadn’t let go in time.

But Max doesn’t want to play Victoria anyway, doesn’t care about stupid girl stuff like Barbies, knows now that boys don’t ever like those things, that there’s a difference between dolls and action figures, that there are things that are for you and others decidedly aren’t. And that’s that.

So Max had turned away from Victoria’s door and he’d climbed the stairs down into the basement and had not been scared of the laundry room and it’s cold tiles and little spiders in the corners unlike Victoria who always shrieks when she sees one. But she’s barely eight, she’s a baby, and Max isn’t anymore.

Still, when he finds the packed bag, he doesn’t understand. Even less when he finds another, close to it with stuff in it, that’s not his mom’s but Max’s. There’s the yellow Sponge Bob shirt, and his favorite trainers that he couldn’t find the other day and- And one of Victoria’s dresses, one of her books, it’s-

“Mom, are we going on vacation?” he asks, when he’s back upstairs, looking up at her, the Spongebob shirt clutched in his hand.

“What?” she says, distracted again, turning with a frown on her face that turns into a weird kind of smile quickly enough. “Honey, no. No, why would you say that?”

Chewing on his lip, Max shifts from one foot to the other. She sounds weird, voice waiver and wrong, but she does that a lot lately. “Because of the bags? Downstairs?”

“Oh.” Her breath hitches, and again she looks over her shoulder before crouching down, getting more on eyelevel with him. “Max, schatje, listen.” She smiles, again, but again, it makes Max’s stomach feel funny in a bad way. “The bags have to be our little secret, yes? Just you and me, my love.”

“But why?” Max frowns. He still doesn’t understand why the bags are there in the first place, much less why they would have to be a secret.

“Because- Because it’s a surprise,” she says after a pause, hand son his shoulders, grip a little too tight, making Max squirm. “So we can’t tell anyone. That we’ll go on a trip. Because that would ruin the surprise.”

 Still frowning, Max shakes his mother’s hands off.

“A trip where?” he asks, but in the same moment the sound of the front door interrupts them, and his mother’s expression warps, a flash of something there, then another smile, even worse as she puts her finger to her lips, a quiet request for Max’s silence, as Max’s father makes his way into the kitchen.

“Hey, buddy,” he greets Max.

Max’s mom stands there, still, right where she is, looks at Max, then at his father. She doesn’t say anything, and Max’s father doesn’t either. Not to her. He’s mad at her, Max knows because of something that happened at the barbecue last week. She’d been talking to this neighbor and Max’s dad had gotten angry and-

Max doesn’t know. He’d taken Victoria by her hand and ran to the garage with her to show her the racing track he came up with and drew on the driveway with chalk, and that had been good, that had been better. He doesn’t know what happened, just knows that his parents haven’t been talking since that day, only icy silence between them.

“Hey, dad,” Max had said dutifully and he hadn’t said anything about the packed bags, not then, not ever.

Not even that night not even a week later, when Max woke up while it was still dark to his Mom shaking him, his jacket already thrown over her arm.

“You have to get up, Max,” she’d said quickly, voiced hushed. “Honey, please. Put on your jacket. Hurry.”

She hadn’t waited for him to move, she’d pulled on his arm, had made him sit up, and stand up, had put shoes on his feet and he’d still been in his pyjama’s and she hadn’t answered when he’d asked her what was happening, why he couldn’t keep sleeping, if something was wrong, where his dad was.

“That trip, I told you about?” she’d said between putting his jacket on him and making him hold his backpack. “Our secret? We’re going on it now. You, me, and Vicky. It’s going to be so much fun, I promise. But we have to hurry. We have to leave now.”

“But-” Max had said, confused and upset, scared by her fluttery voice and moving around. The back and forth, the here and there, it’d been- “But what about dad?”

[viladlind]

[ 18:51 ] so love [ 18:51 ] i couldn't find something you'd like for starlight [ 18:51 ] or well i did but turns out every single store is closed and i didn't know [ 18:52 ] so i have something else [ there's an image attached of will's collarbones, covered in saran wrap. various dots in red, forming a bitemark in tattoo ink, are displayed on his skin. ] [ 18:52 ] i wanted this to be a surprise for later but i didn't want to show up without gifts [ 18:52 ] recognise that bite at all, darling? 🥰

dar'khol had told her about this tradition, a holiday that fiyero had never heard of before. the island covered in decorations, she was curious about it, but ultimately didn't see much sense participating. winter celebrations in faerûn vary widely depending on which god you follow and lathander doesn't terribly concern himself with the colder seasons of the year.

   all this to say, she doesn't have a single thing planned.

   she briefly frets reading over the first few messages that willem sends, grappling with the fact that he was looking for a gift for her, and that she had made no such effort. she's imagining him walking from one store to the next to find something, coming up empty, and perhaps feeling bad about it ... the small pause between his last text and the image popping up is enough for her to worry.

   but once she looks at the image properly, every other thought she could have possibly had sifts out of her mind.

   staring blankly for a long moment, she brings the little device closer to her face. the saran wrap makes it a bit hard to see, and at first fiyero doesn't realize what she's looking at. tattoos work differently back home. that, and willem has made it a point to keep his shirts on when he visited the last few weeks, something entirely unlike him. but she looks, mind entirely empty, and her eyes trace over the red outline of a ... bite?

   that's her bite.

   ( text: noltruti'u ) w

   she didn't mean to send that yet. her claws always make it difficult to type, but even more so when she's a little frantic.

   ( text: noltruti'u ) willem

   fiyero doesn't even know what to say. she's thrilled, obviously, her pulse rabbiting and desire pushing so fast and strong up against her throat that she stands in the middle of her kitchen with her mouth open. subconsciously, her tongue drifts over one of her fangs. her mind is struggling to catch up while her body has a very clear idea of what's going on here.

   that's her, on him. permanently.

   what an evil man he is.

   snapping her mouth closed, fiyero is rushing to her entry as she types the next message, trying to jump into her boots with her phone in her hand. blindly reaching for her cloak, she hits send and stares the screen down, as if that would make his reply appear faster.

   ( text: noltruti'u ) where are you?

[katyspersonal]

3 for Aldrich, Aldia, Willem & Laurence

9 for Maria

11 for Micolash & Aldrich

24 for Laurence

(Asks from this ( x ) meme)

3) What first drew you to this character?

As for Aldrich, I vaguely recall finding out that he checks the traits I like the most? He was one of the characters I've learned about through fandom and not on my own, and I think this ancient meme about summarises it:

Also:

@val-of-the-north SHUDDUP you're basically so horny for Laurence/Logarius/Snatchers that you can't even picture them in your mind in any way but being naked!!!!!!! *casts the stone back at u*

With Laurence, like with Mico, it was the very first glance at the character in Youtube compilation with boss themes and concept art image. I did not know the lore yet, but the design and the music made me imagine Laurence as sort of aged, sagely librarian. I could not imagine back then that his boss fight would be him being a "helpless abhorrent little mewmew" as kids call it! Heck, I thought he'd have dialogue despite the monster form x) In a way, my first impression was not wrong, with the cut content of him actually talking even in a beast form, and implication of him being a son of Cainhurst cut content librarian NPC! I have intuition for cut content before having information, hahaha!

I have nothing to say about Willem. It might be a memory gap thing, but I swear at some point I feel I was turned off and then booted back up with liking this character already installed in my system x) As for Aldia.... ugh for fuck's sake... yeah, it was this legend:

I was absolutely floored by this stupid vid even without knowing any context, but I also instantly liked this character. I didn't even know his name yet, but the voice acting and long yapping about philosophy already pulled me in XD (Also unironically, this video is precisely how I give relationship advice fhfhdds)

9) Does this character remind you of anyone you know? Does that affect how you see them?

Yeah, I know this person. I know them very well. I know them more than anyone else. Someone who was misguided (by their destructive influence mentor figure, by their own foolishness and past history, or combination of both, who can tell anymore?) into committing awful things, then despaired over their sins and attempted redemption but also failed in some way? This person is me. At some point I've found myself in front of horrible truth about my past life and personality, and knew I was guilty and sullied forever. That it was over for me as a human being, but that didn't matter, and I could only keep people safe by locking myself away and trying to serve something better.

......annnnd it took a few years of more informed people to (metaphorically) shake me and slap my face into lucidity, explaining to me that I've fallen for the "BPD demonization" that was going far beyond than my individual failure as a friend, and we are always accused of abuse and causing irreversible harm when the worst we do is being emotionally overbearing. I kept losing trust to those friends, telling them that they were enablers who tried to gaslight me into thinking I was not 'that much of a monster', until it was other people with BPD who 'shook me and slapped my face into lucidity'. xd Nonetheless, even though now I know the truth about how society treats BPDs, I remember the feeling of being so monstrous and harmful that I was not even allowed to "touch" people with my dirty hands, how my reality used to be. So, I could write Maria going through this effortlessly, especially considering what she did was more plain and tangible!

In fact... thank you for asking me about this, because I kept wondering why I had such frequent dreams about being Maria, and why the Maria in my dreams acts like abused child that took back control against Gehrman despite my portrayal of the guy being so different. And now the puzzle is solved! That part of me still lives inside, it seems.

11) How did you “fall in love” with this character?

Already answered this for Micolash here: ( x )! As for Aldrich, it was through properly analysing the bigger picture and context of his actions. I've figured that his madness was, in fact, being informed on what was far too ahead of everyone else around him! He, like the rest of the cast, is trapped in the rotting, doomed world in which the only choices are 1) "die with dignity" or 2) commit something unthinkable from moral standpoint for a chance to escape. And will morality of the rotting world will matter in the new world anyways? Won't it all be left behind and be forgiven?

The guy also tried to take everyone else he could with him, like sort of a fucked up Noah's Arc! I can tell that they reused the concept with Rykard, at least, I am glad they know what works xD I'd say that the sadism he experienced upon eating people was either result of insanity (he understood a thing no one should understand), or still didn't exclude the bigger purpose (egotistically revelling in how holy he is helping everyone and doing what no one else dared, which would be like my Laurence). In any case, I have the strongest respect to the courage it takes to transcend the bonds of morality and compassion in order to to greater good. Being burdened with the knowledge of how the world really works, and choosing to push through instead of still being bound... This is why I also like Fauxsefka; learning how this world works, she chose to turn people into Kin so they can't ever become beasts. I am weak for this trope, you don't understand.

24) Do you ever dream about this character? If so, describe a dream you once had about them.

Laurence appears in my dreams only in two contexts: 1) Micolaurence or 2) dreams about finding secret files in Bloodborne that reveal his canonical appearance before beasthood! I can tell the latter comes from my everlasting unsatisfaction with my design for him, because I love it but it doesn't feel "fitting" and I can't identify why!

The former, I think, fandom rubbing onto me x) In two of these dreams, I was Laurence. In other two, I was Micolash. In one of Laurence dreams it was mutual, in the second one I was in love unrequited. In one of Micolash dreams, it was mutual, and in another it was not.. Basically, my dreams allows me to experience this ship from every possible angle. o_o Waiting for more I guess fhhdfsfd

______________

Thank you for asking! And.. without exaggeration, you've just done quite a psychological work on me by just asking the right thing. I need to think about that, hahaha

[dvarapala]

@hatigave / ome willem

the universe has a sense of humor. udyati believes as much. she was born beneath a fixed earth sign but her heart and soul always belonged to the sea itself long before they belonged to those who braved it.

"juil," she murmurs softly. "cool. is dat kort voor juliana?" certainly this vessel has not been named after a queen of old, right? he doesn't strike her as that kind of person. (though, to be completely fair, and honest to boot, he doesn't strike her as a person at all.)

it's strange, speaking in her mother tongue again. one of the... four and a half - dutch, english, hindi, interspersed with snippets of sranan-tongo and the language that the stars speak. the dead, too. bhūtabhāṣa, they call it.

take your pick, captain.

without giving him the chance to respond, she adds: "u heeft vast heel veel plekken gezien."

[joostjongepier]

Wat?   Fischer ziehen ein Netz ein (1657) door Reinier Nooms, Zwei Fischerkutter in stürmischer See (1831) door Louis Charles Verbroeckhoven, Vor Morgate (1840) door J.M.W. Turner, Raddampfer im Sturm (1863) door Louis Mennet, Gewitter über dem Meer (1847) door Anton Melbye, Küstenfischer (1848) door Andreas Achenbach, Ohne Titel (Studie) (1840) door Andreas Achenbach en Brigg und Lodsenboot (1842) door Jean Antoine Théodore Gudin

Waar?   Tentoonstelling Spiegel der Welt – Schlaglichter auf Seestücke aus drei Jahrhunderten in Internationales Maritimes Museum Hamburg, Hamburg

Wanneer?   7 maart 2024

Het Internationales Maritimes Museum Hamburg is groot. Het enorme gebouw telt maar liefst negen etages met werkelijk alles wat met scheepvaart te maken heeft. Van ontdekkingsreizen tot cruiseschepen, van uniformen tot scheepskanonnen, van een gigantisch schip in Lego tot een zeilboot gemaakt van colablikjes. De achtste etage is gewijd aan vier eeuwen schilderkunst over zee en scheepvaart.  Uit deze collectie is een overzichtelijke tentoonstelling samengesteld, die al direct op de eerste etage te zien is: Spiegel der Welt. De expositie is overzichtelijk ingedeeld en begint met het land dat in de zeventiende eeuw de scheepvaart domineerde: Nederland. Het land had meer schepen dan Frankrijk en Engeland bij elkaar. De winsten van de wereldhandel maakten van Amsterdam de rijkste en meest innovatieve stad van de wereld.

Reinier Nooms (ca. 1623-1664) schilderde een werk dat onmiskenbaar zeventiende-eeuws Nederlands is. Driekwart van het schilderij bestaat uit wolken. Daaronder vindt de actie plaats: vissers halen hun netten op. Terwijl de boot links nog in de schaduw van donkere wolken ligt, wordt het scheepje rechts verlicht door de zon die voorzichtig door het wolkendek prikt. Nooms was zijn loopbaan waarschijnlijk gestart als zeevarende. Hij signeerde zijn werk dan ook met met ‘R. Zeeman’. Waarschijnlijk was hij leerling bij de beroemde zeeschilder Willem van de Velde de Oudere. Het Amsterdamse Scheepvaartmuseum wijdde in 2022 een tentoonstelling aan deze schilder en zijn gelijknamige zoon.

Is het werk van Nooms opgebouwd uit slechts een paar kleurtonen, dat van de Belgische schilder Louis Charles Verbroeckhoven (1802-1889) is helder van kleur. Zowel de golven als de zeilen van de schepen lichten prachtig op. Niet alleen de schepen zijn prachtig uitgewerkt; dat geldt ook voor de wolkenlucht en de zee.  In dat opzicht mag Verbroeckhoven zich, hoewel hij zo’n tweehonderd jaar later leefde, plaatsen in de traditie van de zeventiende-eeuwse Nederlandse schilders van zeegezichten.

Vanaf de achttiende eeuw werd de suprematie op zee overgenomen door het Britse Rijk. Nederlanders, Spanjaarden en Fransen moesten in zeeslagen tegen de Engelsen het onderspit delven. Succesvolle buitenlandse schilders werden naar Groot-Brittannië gehaald. Als het om zeegezichten ging waren dat vooral Nederlanders (zoals de eerder genoemde vader en zoon Van de Velde). Hun invloed op latere Britse schilders van zeegezichten was dan ook groot.

Mijn oog valt op een klein werkje van J.M.W Turner (1775-18510. Geen schilderij, maar een werk in potlood en wit krijt. Turner stond bekend als ‘schilder van licht en atmosfeer’ en in dat opzicht is dit werkje een echte Turner. In enkele verstrengelde potloodstreken geeft de kunstenaar de contouren van een schip weer. Met wit krijt laat hij de zon op de branding schijnen en suggereert hij een kustlijn met een gebouw. In 2020 identificeerde historicus Ian Warrell welk voorval Turner hier had vastgelegd. In 1840 had men bij Margate twee schepen van de Oostindië Compagnie moedwillig laten vastlopen in het zand om te voorkomen dat ze hun lading in een storm zouden verliezen. De lading werd gered en de schepen gerepareerd. We zien hier óf de Claudine óf de Westminster.

Door de Franse revolutie veranderde er veel in de schilderkunst van dat land. Kunstenaars verloren met de aristocratie hun mecenassen en moesten zich aanpassen aan de markt. Ontwikkelingen volgden elkaar snel op. De Parijse Salon van 1824 vormde een waterscheiding in de wijze waarop critici naar kunst  keken. Het onderwerp van schilderijen werd ondergeschikt aan het experimentele gebruik van schildertechnieken.

Op het schilderij van Louis Mennet (1829-1875) zien we hoe een raderstoomboot zich een weg baant door de hoge golven. Het kleurenpallet dat de schilder heeft gebruikt voor water en lucht is klein. Deze tonaliteit wordt alleen doorbroken door het rood van het schip. De witte schuimkoppen zijn wollig geschilderd, wat de suggestie geeft van opspattend water. De mensen aan boord worden weergegeven met slechts een aantal willekeurig ogende verfstippen, maar op afstand werkt dit uitstekend.

Bij het bekijken van het schilderij van Mennet, ben ik als landrot blij niet aan boord te zijn. Het doek doet me terugdenken aan een boottocht die ik ooit maakte van Borneo naar het ‘paradijselijke’ eiland Pulau Tiga. Het stormde en de golven waren hoog. Het water was zo wild dat we bij aankomst niet konden aanleggen. Met de bagage boven ons hoofd moesten we naar de kust van het eiland waden. Op het eiland was van het ‘paradijselijke’ niet veel te zien was. Het hele strand lag, als gevolg van de storm, vol aangespoeld hout en andere rommel. De ervaring heeft me geleerd dat ik de zee liever op schilderijen zie dan daadwerkelijk overal om me heen.

In de jaren twintig van de negentiende eeuw ontstond in Denemarken een generatie schilders die sterk beïnvloed was door de Duitse Romantiek. De natuur en het alledaagse leven van vissers gingen het beeld bepalen. Daarbij werd de werkelijkheid vaak geïdealiseerd. Deze Deense ‘Gouden Eeuw’ (althans wat kunst betreft) bereikte tussen 1820 en 1850 zijn hoogtepunt.

Op Gewitter über dem Meer van Anton Melbye (1818-1875) zien we een zeilschip dat in de storm zijn mast is kwijtgeraakt. Het drijft onbestuurbaar op zee. De sfeer van dit werk, maar ook van de andere Deense schilderijen op deze tentoonstelling, is totaal anders dan de werken hiervoor. Er straalt frust van uit, zelfs als er een storm wordt weergegeven. De golven hebben geen witte koppen, maar zijn donker, soms haast zwart. Het schilderij lijkt op te roepen tot existentiële reflectie.

Mede doordat Duitsland niet over een eigen zeemacht beschikte, speelden zeegezichten tot laat in de negentiende eeuw nauwelijks een rol in de Duitse kunst  De vlootpolitiek van keizer Wilhelm II bracht daarin verandering. Zeestukken werden propagandamiddel met nadruk op het militaire aspect. Na beide wereldoorlogen verdwijnt deze militaire dimensie grotendeels, ten gunste van een, soms nogal nostalgische kijk op het verleden.

Andreas Archenbach (1815-1910) schilderde aanvankelijk dramatische zeescènes en scheepswrakken. Later ging hij zich meer toeleggen op het weergeven van het alledaagse leven van vissers en zeelui. Op Küstenfischer  verbeeldt Achenbach de terugkomst van een Nederlandse vissersvloot met zogenaamde ‘Buisen’. De boten zijn aan het aftuigen. Op de meest linkse boot is al een net in de mast gehangen om te drogen. Een groep mensen draagt de vangst in manden aan land.

De tentoonstelling besluit met een aantal tekeningen. Deze variëren van een tamelijk technische werkschets (Andreas Auerbach) tot een volwaardig kunstwerk (Théodore Gudin).

[a-little-hobbit-hole]

Ali is on the tail end of Trollshaws quests now 😊 I keep having to freeze her level for the sake of tokens for landscape difficulty, but it's fine! Tho the festival slowed her down

I can't believe I don't get Rivendell guide until 46. That's so far away with how slow I'm leveling 😭

But I ended up getting distracted and decided to make a purple outfit for her. Nothing vibrant since she's a hunter (that's for Nen to have fun with). I don't like how the boots clip during certain emotes like /appraise, but they look nice with the outfit anyway so it's fine lol

I'm also doing the bingo questline as I go on this character. Might as well, since the quests aren't out of the way. I also discovered Willem Wisker sleeps by the fire! What a cutie 🥺

Mantle of Hidden Peaks, umber

Rugged Quiver, default

Jacket of Illumination, violet

Elven-Etched Gloves, umber

Boots of Elessar's Scout, white

Swift Longsword, Weapon Aura of the Dead City

Grey-Wood Long Bow, Weapon Aura of the Dead City