#allure 2012

[celebratingwomen]

Morena Baccarin for Allure Magazine, 2012

[kinderes]

half the time when my brain brings me a new interest it's actually just minecraft roleplay again

[teaboot]

why do u think there are so many autistic people on tumbler? or is it just that we're all following each other

I mean I initially joined in 2012 to find more art and shit about my OG obsessions at the time so I imagine that perk was rather alluring for those of us who fixate

[eldrbenway]

"Eroticism is not about nudity, but about mystery." 

– Caitlín R. Kiernan, "The Drowning Girl" (2012) 📚🔥

Tomoda Ayaka captivates with her mesmerizing beauty and sensual allure in this shot – pure enchantment! 💫💖 

[psikonauti]

Zhongwen Yu (Chinese,b.1984)

you are the alluring time which passed me by, 2012

Oil on canvas

[dancingdonatello]

hi guys i wanted to share some of my favorite ongoing tmnt x reader fanfics on ao3 ❤️

Not a Fan of Mystics by DoodleBiscuit

- soulmates au!!! ITS SO GOOD … possessive don. possessive don.

- rise donatello x reader

Mirage by TemmTamm

- 2012. leo. x male. reader AND karai. x resder.

- need i say more? …. yes VILLAIN READER 🎉

Everyone Hates Geology by nhachi

- so fun… so… soft… at recent chapters..

-rise donatello x reader

Contract in Wax by TheJudiciousNeurotic

- don’t even get me started. oh my god !

- bayverse leo x reader. shut up. ‼️

Road Work Ahead? I Sure Hope it Does by darn_eggs

- this absolutely sucked me in. love

- rise leo x reader

Under Streetlights by Spoopyblues214

- all rise turtles x reader

- LOVE ! FLUFF there is sm I HEART

alternate allure by Spill_da_Tea_TvT

- 2012 don x reader

- reader switches placed with april CUTE !!!!!!!!!! gives me sm inspo to write

raising your world from the ashes by misou_soup

- 2018 leo x reader

-KID OID KID KID KID KID KID!!!!!!!! KID FIC ! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 did i mention… KID !

Passion and Pastries by FunkyFrogFridays

- 2018 don x reader

- casually hot don. oh let me just… catch you. casually !

there are much more but some have updated in a HOT minute,,, just go through my bookmarks 😭😭

did u know commenting makes people update more. do it. send love. (so that i can read more turtle fanfic pls pls pls pls pls pls pls )

if anyone wants me to tag their tumblr too (i put ao3 account names) lmk 😋

[a-state-of-bliss]

Allure Russia Dec 2012 - Edita Vilkeviciute by Raymond Meier

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Also I totally forgot about this until I saw something on FB but…

Ryan and Blake had a plantation wedding in South Carolina way back in 2012 when it was cool and chic to do that. The old slave cabins were even part of some of their photos. 🤦‍♀️

And remember when Blake tried to launch her own form of Goop? I think she called it Preserve, something uppity like that. Anyway, the lifestyle brand had a newsletter that she called…wait for it: Allure of the Antebellum, in which she essentially romanticized female slave owners. Here’s a good recap from Vox:

🤦‍♀️ 🤦‍♀️

So people immediately started calling Blake out for her casual racism and she shut down Preserve not much longer after citing lack of interest (because her products were ridiculously overpriced…sound familiar?) but an ad analysis brand found that Blake lost her audience because she was so tone-deaf in that newsletter. (And also just last year, in 2023, Blake made comments loaning about how “hurtful press coverage” made her shut down her company. Jeez, it’s like looking in a crystal ball.)

Anyway, she and Ryan were able to sweep this under the rug for a lil bit. Till Ryan made his own tone-deaf comments about Black Panther, something to the effect of “congrats on being the first blockbuster with a Black superhero” and got slammed for it on Twitter with a bunch of people calling him out for having had a plantation wedding.

So then fast forward 2 years. It’s the summer of George Floyd protests and privilege (or the lack thereof) is being reckoned with. In May 2020, they make a $20,000 donation to the NAACP Legal Defense Fund, along with a statement saying "We're ashamed that in the past we've allowed ourselves to be uninformed about how deeply rooted systemic racism is.”

But they get dragged for filth about having a plantation wedding and finally, three months later in August, Ryan issued a formal apology saying:“It’s something we’ll always be deeply and unreservedly sorry for. It’s impossible to reconcile. What we saw at the time was a wedding venue on Pinterest. What we saw after was a place built upon devastating tragedy.” He then went on to say they got married again at home some years later because “shame works in weird ways.” 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

I don’t know. Here’s a thought. Maybe if you’re planning a wedding whose photos you’re going to sell to magazines later, maaaaaybe you should’ve done a tour of the place you found on Pinterest to see the warts they don’t talk about on social media before committing. Just a bit of advice for next time, Ryan.

So yeah. This has been, I’m sure, a great few days for Ryan and Blake, with all this dirt coming up.

All because Blake decided to make her movie’s promo tour Barbie 2.0. You know, I saw a thing on social media this afternoon that she and her squad were telling people to have a girl’s night out to see the movie and dress up in florals and bring flowers to share like they’re Taylor Swift friendship bracelets. 🤦‍♀️ 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

And this is on top of Colleen Hoover deciding to make a coloring book companion for her novel. A coloring book, y’all. Thankfully she listened to the backlash and canceled it.

Also, putting a tag on these posts now so if anyone is uninterested, you can block and mute it.

[tthatsonme]

Twilight.

by molly

_ As summer slowly but surely creeps into fall, you feel nothing but comfort surrounding the topic, you feel completely immune to seasonal affective disorder (depression when the seasons change) because you love seeing the world turn from green to orange to white and blue, life feels more and more comfortable as fall arrives and the summer gets cooler and cooler, your life feels how the songs Roslyn by Bon Iver and St. Vincent, Waste by KxllSwxtch, Cardigan by Taylor Swift, Master of None by Beach House, Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood, and Possibility by Lykke Li sound, your life and world seems to be shifting into your desired lens colour from the movies, the weather changes when it’s fall to always be rainy, darker, and foggier, your life feels extremely nostalgic like the Twilight movies and it almost feels like it’s 2008-2012 again, no matter what or where your life or what your environment is like; life feels nostalgic again and like the Twilight movies have come to life.

_ Now only is your soul beautiful but your physically beautiful too, you’re just like a vampire with the way that you’ll probably never look older physically, and when the time comes where you do start to look older physically you still look as beautiful as you were when you were younger, even when you get wrinkles or grey or white hair you don’t feel the need to get fillers or dye your hair or anything because of how beautiful you’d look naturally, as of right now you think that you’re beautiful or handsome, you have no insecurities when it comes to looks or your body because even if you don’t like it it’s easy for you to change but you still love and accept yourself as is, even though basically everything about you is beautiful/handsome and perfect the most notable thing about your physical appearance is your skin, your skin is like the moon, not in terms of colour but more because of how naturally glowing and alluring your skin is, your skin almost looks sparkly because of how flawless it is, celebrities and rich people can try all they want to get skin like yours with their expensive treatments and serums or whatever but no one can seem to replicate the naturalness of your perfect skin.

_ You don’t even need to say a word and people like you and want to be with you whether it be in a romantic or platonic sense, it seems like you’re never alone because of how much people flock towards you, everyone talks about how beautiful and attractive you are, even if you seem like a “loner” you still have people who talk about you and how much they love you and admire you, even if you do happen to be someone who’s more quiet and uninterested in having an intense social life of partying and trying basically everything you have no problem being social, (unlike Bella lmaoo) you’re not awkward and even if you are people find it interesting rather than immediately judging you for it, no matter what your personality or life is like people still like you, since you have pretty or handsome privilege people are always coddling, pampering, spoiling, praising, and just overall loving you because they find you so cute (ib Aleya ofcc), you just scream Twilight vibes because of your aesthetic and the way that you dress, you’re always finding Twilight-esque clothing (whatever that may be to you).

_ You find a partner/significant other who is just like your desired character from Twilight, regardless of who that is; the quote from Edward to Bella where he says “You’re like my own personal brand of heroin” is exactly how they feel about you, they seem to always be looking out for you + the of the affirmations from my “Can I show my love for you?” subliminal.

Extras I added

_ Manifest people into your life that are like/look like the characters that you want from Twilight

_ When winter comes around, it’s never too cold for you, you’re immune to freezing + you’re always warm even in -50 or colder (I’m Canadian so)

_ If you want to move towns/cities to have this aesthetic, you suddenly have an opportunity to do so

_ You’re never on your phone/social media because of how interesting and adventurous your life has become

_ You can manifest any of the things in this subliminal for other people

[momentsbeforemass]

Politics

A friend of mine is a pollster.

He specializes in local and state politics. He understands the dynamics of legislative districts and statewide elections. He’s got a real gift for independents.

When we talked a few weeks before the election, I asked about his secret to understanding independents. His answer?

“There are no independents. They may not want to tell me, but everybody’s got a side.”

I had to ask him how he figures out which side an independent is really on.

“The follow up questions. Here’s one of my favorites – What comes to mind when I say the words ‘Roman Catholic?’ Sometimes I change it to ‘evangelical Christian.’ It depends on the district.”

What does that tell you?

“A lot. Because the answer is usually political.”

This is the part of the conversation that stuck with me. Something about it bothered me. Still does.

I think what bothers me is that the Faith is being regularly described in terms of politics. That people routinely thought of Christianity in political terms. And not much else.

As if Christians were just another interest group, another voting block for politicians to play to.

It sent me back to Philip Yancey’s 2012 essay “Christians and Politics: Uneasy Partners.” And this passage, one that reads like it was written this morning,

“The confusion of politics and religion is one of the greatest barriers to grace…Politics, which always runs by the rules of ungrace, allures us to trade away grace for power, a temptation the church has often been unable to resist.”

That last sentence? It’s an indictment of too many of our hearts. We are all too eager to trade away grace for power.

Then add in the disconnects between both major political parties and the fundamentals of the Faith. Mix it all together. 

It means that if we really are “marked as Christ’s own forever,” our political decisions should make us think long and hard.

Our political decisions should leave us deeply uncomfortable.

No matter how we vote.

It means that while we might not go full Jesus-driving-the-money-changers-out-of-the-Temple-with-a-whip, we can never allow our Faith to be overtaken by our politics.

Today’s Readings

[blueiscoool]

Why These Imperfect Korean ‘Moon Jars’ Sell for Millions

Old, round, imperfect and beautiful — that’s how fans of Korean art describe the moon jar, or “dalhangari.”

These unassuming, plain white pots have entranced everyone from rapper RM, of K-pop sensation BTS, to philosopher Alain de Botton.

The former director of London’s Victoria and Albert Museum, Beth McKillop, has called the moon jar an “icon of Korean identity.” And if price is any indicator of popularity, one recently sold for over $4.5 million at a Christie’s auction.

This month, a rare example from the late 17th or early 18th century will go on sale at Sotheby’s in New York, where it’s expected to fetch more than $3 million.

“A large moon jar has always been expensive, but I think the big uptick in prices and value is… because their appeal is now global,” said Angela McAteer, Sotheby’s international head of Chinese art for the Americas and Europe, over video call. “You’ve got an international cohort of bidders competing for them, so it’s gone beyond the traditional connoisseur collecting community of Korean art.”

Huge price tags also result from the jars’ rarity. Although made for over a century in the royal kilns of Korea’s last kingdom, the Joseon dynasty, few are thought to exist today. Estimates for the number of larger ones (those more than 40 centimeters, or 15.7 inches, tall and wide) that have survived over the years range from 12 to 30.

Having passed through auction houses and antique dealers across the world, several of these are now in the collections of institutions like the British Museum and Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts, as well as in the hands of private collectors.

‘Owning a piece of happiness’

The first moon jars were created in the royal kilns in Gwangju (a city just outside Seoul, not the larger southern city of the same name) from 1650 to 1750. They were made from pure white porcelain and kaolin clay, and, following the neo-Confucian fashions of their day, the pots reflected values such as propriety, humility, frugality and purity. They were likely used at court and in upper-class homes as containers for food and liquids, or as decorative vessels.

In the mid-20th century, moon jars began gaining international appreciation thanks to influential admirers such as Japanese folk crafts scholar Yanagi Soetsu and British potter Bernard Leach, who bought one from a Seoul antique store in 1935. Leach once said that having a moon jar was like “owning a piece of happiness,” and would later give his to fellow potter Lucie Rie for safekeeping during World War II. It stayed in her studio until her death and was later acquired by the British Museum.

Charlotte Horlyck, lecturer in Korean Art History at the University of London’s School of Oriental and African Studies, wrote in the Art Bulletin journal that after World War II the moon jar “caught the attention of an early generation of postcolonial Korean artists and scholars who sought to restore Korean art history and national identity,” as the pieces “resonated with the visual language of international modernism and minimalism of the mid-20th century while remaining a distinctly Korean work of art.”

The moon jar’s allure

When Sotheby’s announced its forthcoming sale, the auction house described its 44-centimeter (17.3-inch) moon jar as an object that inspired, astounded and soothed those who “stand in its presence.” It’s a funny thing to say about a pot, to speak as if it’s alive, but the jars’ visceral, emotional impact on people is something that comes up time and time again in the literature.

Choi Sunu, a former director of the National Museum of Korea, has described the museum’s moon jars as being like companions, or muses that have inspired his writing and stirred his creativity. Bernard Leach admired the pots for their “natural unselfconsciousness.” In 2012, South Korea’s then-Unification Minister Yu Woo-ik used the pot as a metaphor symbolizing a reunified Korean peninsula (moon jars are created in two hemispherical pieces and joined in the middle).

More recently the rapper RM, of K-pop group BTS, posted a picture of himself hugging a modern-day moon jar on Twitter, telling fans that the pots made him feel calm.

“It’s hard for someone to really comprehend how a pot can make you feel that way,” said McAteer. “It has this real meditative presence. If you’ve sat in front of a great (painting by US artist, Mark) Rothko and you feel this kind of palpable energy emanate from it, and you could sit for hours and just feel something in its presence — the moon jar has that too.”

“The more you look at it, the more there is to see. It looks different from every angle,” she added. “We had real issues with the photography and the catalog because it looks like a different piece every time you rotate it, or you change the lighting. The surface is just alive, you know.”

“You can see how the glaze coalesces; you see these spontaneous bursts of this blush color that’s happening in the firing. You can lose yourself in its surface.”

Modern masters

Modern Korean potters have been inspired by the jars, and a number have come up with their own homages. Ceramist Kim Syyong covers his pots with a black glaze, while Yun Ju Cheol’s versions look spikier like a pufferfish and Choi Bo Ram’s unvarnished, textured blue vases have a denim-like quality.

Others, like Kwon Dae Sup, have looked to closely recreate the process used by the potters of yore. The 71-year-old ceramist produces unadorned white jars and allows for all the beautiful imperfections produced to shine through. He works out of a studio in Gwangju, where the royal kilns that produced moon jars were once located.

There’s a great deal of preparation that goes into making a moon jar traditionally. It’s labor-intensive: washing, sifting impurities from the clay, kneading and rolling it to remove air bubbles, carrying around these large hunks, not to mention hand throwing the clay itself to that oversized bowl shape without collapsing, and the work keeping a pine wood fire burning for 24 hours while the pot hardens in the kiln. Kwon also built his own kiln to replicate the old process as closely as possible.

“I do this because it’s fun,” he said in a phone interview. “Every time I make something, it’s novel … The quality of the material is different every time. The conditions in which I make the pots is new every time.”

Kwon said he also feels an emotional connection to the moon jar. As a student he was so moved by a one he saw in a Korean antique store that he decided they would be his life’s work. “They feel alive,” he said.

In a 2019 book on his work by Axel Vervoodt Gallery the potter is quoted saying he tries to produce art that needs no addition or subtraction. “I wish to create work that has an imposing presence but harmonizes with its surroundings regardless of where and when it is displayed. It should give peace of mind and a sense of comfort to all who look at it.”

By Christy Choi.

[squirmydads-creations]

My kids know I'm terribly amused by mimics in D&D, so my youngest picked me up and Outhouse mimic miniature. Which motivated me to paint this treasure chest and attacking chest mimic from the 2012 Reaper bones Kickstarter. This lineup almost looks like the evolution of a mimic; from simple and alluring chest, to attacking chest, to alluring and attacking Outhouse in the middle of the dungeon. 😁

[marwhoa]

request: marloweeee c; ‘tis me (tmntxthings) what about a oneshot for 2012 vampire!donnie x fem or gn reader?! the rest is up to you though a dash of jealousy would be amazinggg orrrr vamp!donnie being like a super-mega bad boy and reader gets warned against falling for him but reader is just like “so he’s a bit of a fixer-upper, that’s a minor thing~” iendjcksoejddi idk totally up to you I’ll love anything you write <33333

🝮 “ the sheep loves the wolf ”

2012!Vampire!donnie x female!reader

author’s note: hihi !! I love 2012 donnie smsmsmsmsmsm, so this request got me squealing !! there are a few… side characters! I’ll put all their text in green, to minimize how many different colors I’m using, so don’t get confused like, “Whuh, I thought he was green, why is she green too?” They’re just all side characters in the story between donnie and y/n uwu as always, thank you for reading, and consider dropping me a cute wittle request!!

word count: 4.8k

The feet of two in love danced in synchronized steps, across the barren ballroom’s floor. Hand in hand, their eyes never left the other—completely captivated in their waltz. A loving sigh left Y/N’s lips as she was twirled in the hands of a dashing fellow with mahogany eyes that glinted a tad bit redder than she would have liked in the chandelier’s light.

Nonetheless, the red flags might as well have been green through her rose-tinted glasses as her dress bellowed and fluttered with each spin and delicate yet swift footwork. The two lovers made the dance look so much easier as they swayed here and there, fingers interlaced, hand upon shoulder, and the gentlemen’s hand fitting puzzle-piece-perfect onto the lady’s hips.

It was upon the last spin that Y/N had finally caught a glimpse of something much too frightening to mask. Some walls in the ballroom were dedicated to being pristine, decorative mirrors, so that it’s dancers could see them and their partner’s wondrous performance.

But, all she saw was herself, and her hands placed upon…

Nothing.

With a nervous intake of breath, a hitching in her voice, Y/N had tried to mask her discovery as she gazed back to her partner and saw he had been looking too. A skin-crawling grin crept upon his features, and goosebumps grew upon her smooth skin. Reddened irises glinted with hunger as they gazed upon the scared doe eyes.

“ Now, now, “

He purred, bringing their dance to a slowed halt. Your dress riveted as he pulled your shaken frame flush against him. The once-upon-a-time welcomed fingers caressed your chin, stroking with the kindest adoration—akin to possibly the same touch you would give to a treasure,

“ Why did you have to go and ruin the surprise with those curious eyes, my dear? “

Thunder echoed in the distance, illuminating the already dim room. Your skin crawled as memories of how you made it here flooded in.

———-

“ Y/N! Do not be foolish, you know we are not to follow the Willow’s path at night—have you no brain? Have you forgotten where that path leads, woman! “

Your frightened mother held your hand, tugging you away from a path your village had so fearfully deemed the forbidden trail—clearly-named-so by the path which was lined by dozens of weeping willows, far too breathtaking this time of year, and the creeping thyme had hues of purple that made that little route all too alluring. The wind bellowed through the willow’s tresses, and you couldn’t help but feel something pulling you forth. It was almost as though the wind was whispering your name.

“ Yes, mother, but I know how foolish the townsfolk are to be afraid. I have seen the man who lives atop the Willow’s path, and may I say that he is nothing like the tales say he is? “

“ You may not! Now hush that delinquent mouth and heed my words. I may be so kind as to forgive this insolence, but I assure you the foolish townsfolk will not take such sympathy for ye who dare fool with that monster. “

With a huff, your mother tugged you home. Upon your hips bounced a woven basket filled with various fruits and berries, as well as a handful of herbs, and even a vegetable here or there.

You were but a regular little lady in a humble village, raised on a story that one day four men had been ever so ignorant as to venture to the castle atop the weeping willows and creeping thyme hills. They were in search of the monster who lived there, plaguing the lands with an insatiable appetite of blood. Hope had riffled through the townspeople, hoping his reign upon them would finally be stopped by these sudden heroes.

Alas, not every story is meant for a happy ending. The four never returned, and the townsfolk were still ever so afraid as those drained of their blood appeared once again—though at a slower, much slower pace than before. Rumors spread that one of the men still roamed the castle grounds, agonizing the loss of his brethren while praying upon the youthful and naive ladies of your quaint community. Despite such a story, filled to the brim with reasons to never give in to the siren’s call that beckoned you up the purple-hues road—the one call that held your hand, tugging it as if to say, “ please, please. come help yourself, i guarantee your safety “, you still found yourself inching closer and closer to climbing the path.

With each passing day of the path’s begging you to come forth, your ability to resist it dwindled.

Some days it was stronger than usual. On those days, you would swear there were eyes on you. And one day, you had even been able to catch the eyes while picking medicinal herbs.

Your hands had brushes of green upon them, kisses left behind by the plants so mercilessly torn from the ground for human benefit. Your eyes held a calmness not even the ocean’s waves could achieve as glowing red eyes pierced through you. A smile quirked upwards as you shifted your sitting position to face him, smoothing out the skirt of your dress.

“ It’s you, isn’t it? The one in the tales, the rumored Count Dracula, lord of the vampires, right? “

The anticipation and excitement swirling in your eyes, twinged with a hint of courage and need to challenge, all disappeared with a trace as the red eyes contorted with a look of sadness.

“ The Count Dracula? “

His voice came out all too normal (go on, hide that disappointment! what, had you expected him to sound scarier? a disembodied, gravelly tone?), and all too depressed as he slips from the bushes. His tall frame was clad in full black & brown; a long trench coat, hat, neat button-up, and fancy shoes. Unlike the people of your town, this man seemed even less like the town’s story, and definitely less dangerous than when you had seen him at the hill’s tallest point one night, and a silhouette you assumed was tending to a garden? It was dark and far, forgive yourself for not having caught all the details!

“ I could never be that fool. “

His hands clenched into a fist as you caught what seemed to be anger. Turned to your basket, you would shift herbs here and there until digging out a pristine red apple that caught your eye on the way here.

“ My deepest apologies then, are you perhaps one of the four men who were said to have ascended the Willow’s path some time ago? “

Y/N extended the apple, hoping to offer it as an extension to her apology. Her smile grew as it was accepted by the gentleman’s gentle touch. Their hands brushed—hers with tinted green fingertips, and his with smooth leather gloves. It had flown straight over her head that the gloves had only three fingers.

“ I am, those other three men were my brothers. “

A crunch of the apple being bitten filled the blanketing silence. You hesitated, but after casting your gaze to the basket, you pushed on,

“ Were? “

“ Yes, I assure you my speech holds no errors. What I say is what I mean. “

“ May I ask what became of them? “

“ You may not. “

His red eyes met yours, and you felt a heartbreaking blue twist in your chest. That was the look of a lonely man who had quite literally lost everything.

Your conversation continued until your basket was full. By then, it was time for you to return home and he gave a tip of his hat as farewell before ascending the purple hills.

The siren’s call begged you to follow him, it whispered in your ear, “ go on, don’t leave the gentleman all by his lonesome. have you no heart? were those weary eyes not enough for you, dearest lady Y/N? “

Y/N continued home with her basket.

Come the next day and the next after that—and far more days after— you were always able to find him somewhere near you. Fear was a foreign emotion when he was near. One of the days, you finally caught his name, Donatello. Donatello Hamato. He was not a monster per se, but rather a mutant of sorts. He described it as having been similar to a yokai.

He was the remaining brother of three others like him, the lone survivor after they had taken care of the true Dracula. Amidst your amazement, never had it crossed your mind to question who exactly had been draining the ladies of the town. In fact, there had been no found bodies since you had met this man and been seeked out by him each time you tended to laundry by the river or collected ingredients for that night’s dinner. No, no, he was much too confident you would never question any of those things.

After all, your focus revolves around him. He had never not noticed your searching eyes, a sheep who brightened at the sight of the wolf rather than shrinking away and rushing to safety.

Even the townspeople were beginning to notice you, searching for someone no body knew. That was, until one unlucky day.

There was no need for you to be out collecting berries and herbs today—your daily treks had made the inventory far too full. They could survive a whole winter without another trek. So of course you would find yourself to be followed by the village’s strongest, a well-known Caspien from a family of hunters, sent to see what nefarious deeds hast led themselves to you.

“ I knew it, you have been bewitched for that monster, Dracula, and only come here for him to have easy prey. “

Standing beside an imprint in the grass, where you and the one you almost would call beloved had sat for so long, discussing this and that—in fact, you had learned something about him that made all the pieces fall together. He told you about a world—or, rather, a time? A time after this one?

No, never mind that. Y/N, startled, whipped around to have her eyes met with the hunter’s forestry green ones seeing through to her soul.

“ Ca-Caspien? What are you doing here, following a lady like this? Have you no respect or mind to know it to be inappropriate! “

You were nervous, taking a shaky step back each time he got closer. Never had you felt it with Donnie, but right here and now with Caspien, you couldn’t help but shrink into the role of a frightened sheep before the hunting wolf.

“ Y/N, dear, with all due respect, it is not inappropriate at all for a hunter to ensure the safety of his people. “

Caspien took more steps forward, cornering you until you lost your footing and thumped hard against the ground. Fearfully, your eyes watched as his hand reached out, gesturing to help you up. What did he have to gain being out here? Would he hurt Donatello? Would he…

Would he hurt you?

Y/N’s hand stiffened as it took his, trying to play this out normally.

That was, until her frame was yanked up from the ground, stumbling into Caspien’s chest before then being thrusted into the tree whose roots previously tripped her.

“ I will force that monster’s hold off of you, even if I am to need to slay it. “

Y/N trembled, from both the night air’s chill and from the fear that ran down her spine. That, and the pain from having been slammed against the rough surface.

Unbeknownst to either of you, there had been a pair of watchful eyes taking in the scene for the past few minutes. Had his hands not been obscured by leather gloves, then it would be visible just how pale they turned as he gripped a log his weight was knelt into.

The scene, before now, had come off to him as two lovers meeting beneath moon’s light, albeit with a little trip from behavior Donnie couldn’t reason with (who backs away from their lover?). This would have been something he ignored, had it not been you that was here. You dared to lead him on? To smile at him as you had all these days the two of you sat together? He watched with a grin as it seemed that your affair was to be falling through. This guy seemed like a far-cry from the gentleman Donnie would proudly say he was, and he hoped that the souring quarrel in what should have been a romantic moment would prove to you just how much better he was. He could only imagine you running to him, pretty lips glossed up and kissable, your eyes shining in their usual doe-like shimmer, and your impeccably soft hands caressing him.

That dreamy fantasy whirled around his head, until he started realizing this situation was much the opposite of what he had assumed. The pained sounds from you were doing things to him, and none of them were of the good, nonviolent, potentially suggestive kind. There was a raging flame he himself hadn’t known laid dormant within. He bared his fangs in the shadows, slowly losing his ability to resist intervening.

You weren’t meeting some random human here, in this very place where you and him would share your time together. No, no, you were coming to meet him, weren’t you? But this nosy human had come to disturb that, hadn’t he?

Donatello agonized over whether or not to appear between the two of you, tearing apart this rattlecap. It had worked in his favor this long to never appear before anyone aside from…

Well, that didn’t matter, since now he had you and a dastardly mutt dared lay his mangy hands upon you.

He wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt his beauty. So, when the softest squeak slipped your lips as this man dared injure you once more—pinning and frightening you—Donatello wasted no time in making it at your side.

Y/N whimpered in pain, closing her eyes and wishing for her special someone to rescue her from this hunter (though, part of you wanted him to stay away. What would Caspian do if he saw Donnie?). A hand placed itself upon her hips, and Y/N cringed at the sight she imagined opening her eyes to. Sure that it would be Caspien, far closer than she could ever need him to be and with his hands far from where they ever should be, her heart skipped as she opened her eyes who see the familiar brown collar of a coat. Topped with a fancy black hat.

“ Donnie… “

You whispered, your voice a mixture between afraid and affectionate. His hold on your hip tightened as your quiet voice reached his ears, feathering kisses with the innocent longing braided into each syllable. Your eyes trailed up to find his other hand latched tightly onto Caspien’s arm. For once, you saw the hunter assume the position of prey. You almost swore a cracking sound vibrated through the still night as Caspien tore his hand from your body and out of Donatello’s vice-grip.

“ Muh-Monster, you dare show your face here and hold Y/N as though she belongs to you? ”

The collar of Donnie’s coat might as well have been laughing a Cheshire’s bout as it was obscuring your vision, stripping your nosy gaze from catching the all-knowing smirk grow upon the tortue’s face.

“ How laughable is it for the monster to call someone else a monster. No, no, you are not the monster—not the one who held his hand to a lady! The monster could never be the one who forced himself upon an innocent lady? “

His arm pulled you closer. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he was preparing to move…?

“ I believe we both know who is the true monster here, O’ Great Hunter Caspien. “

He was taunting the hunter, Caspien. And for what, to throw him off his rhythm? Or just for petty delight? Regardless the reason, you had no time nor leisure to analyze anything. There was only a split second to respond as the atmosphere thickened, and you watched Caspien’s hand move to his hip.

“ Donatello! “

Cried out Y/N as she put all her strength and weight into shoving him out of the way. A shot rang out, followed by her fearful shriek, but thankfully the bullet had missed them both—whether that was from your quick thinking or Caspien’s shaky aim was anyone’s guess, though.

Anticipating to slam against the ground, Y/N was surprised to instead feel weightless and hear the wind whisking past her. It felt like it was bellowing down her bare skin, as though to be running faster than humanly possible. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes to see she was held against Donnie’s chest, and he was running—no, leaping? No, they were quite literally soaring through the tree tops! It was right about now that the stories of his ninja training played back in your head.

Your hold on him tightened and your face buried in his chest, letting slip the content smile he had as he realized you were becoming his more and more, bit by bit. What didn’t slip, however, was the slight tremble you felt while pressed against him.

“ I’m sorry. “

He said, a gasp escaping you as he thumped down to the ground while holding you securely. Donnie straightened up, placing you down outside the window of your room.

“ Why? “

Your hand lingered on his chest, falling after a few extra seconds of shared silence.

“ For letting you get hurt. “

Donnie decided it best to hold his tongue and not tell you he had been watching it play out with jealousy whirling around his head. But, his hands stroked where the hunter’s hand held you much too tightly. You shared his gaze, looking at were a dull pain radiated. For a second, you shifted the shoulder of your dress to reveal the faintest crescents starting to pearl a ruby red.

The man before you found himself blushing for more than one reason, averting his perverted gaze from both the bare skin of your shoulder and the beads of blood growing. You shifted your dress’s fabric back, seeping into the uneasy quiet.

“ … “

Y/N bit her lip before going in for another hug. She just knew he wasn’t the bad person everyone thought he was, and that made falling in love with him all the more easy.

“ You couldn’t have known, but I am grateful to have had a knight such as yourself rescue me. “

You stared into his mahogany eyes, noticing a slight unsettling white glow. Was the moonlight hitting his eyes just right? You gave but a quick glance up to the moon, noticing clouds covering its pale spotlight that could have casted that shine to his eyes. But, before being able to put anything more together, Donnie’s hand turned your head back to him by holding your chin with a light pressure.

“ A knight? Why, my lady, you flatter me..Though, I should leave you now, “

He smirked, winking,

“ Not appropriate to be with a lady so late at night. “

“ Wait, you heard that? “

“ Heard what? Y/N, I am a gentleman, and a gentleman knows how to treat a lady. “

He leaned down, placing a kiss upon the surface of your hand, before then taking a step backwards and waving goodbye. Back up the rolling hills, he went to the castle awaiting his return at the top.

You found yourself wanting to follow him, but instead you turned on your heel and went inside to sleep. Slumber found its way to you instantly, lulling you into its pillowy embrace. Alas, as quickly as sleep had come, just as swiftly away it would have gone, with you reawakening before the sun had risen. Your mother shook you awake, shouting to you things that your slumbering brain couldn’t make sense of. All you could see were glowing orange hues outside and your mother pushing a bag into your hand. Pulled from the bed and shoved out the back, your ears finally made sense of what she was shouting.

“ Y/N, you foolish, foolish girl! “

She sobbed out in harsh, choked whispers while shoving a wrap around your body to fight the midnight chill,

“ Go on, you have to get away! Sir Caspien is saying you were cursed by the monster, Dracula, and they have come to do away with you. “

Holding your face, she planted a rough kiss on your head before shoving you out and shutting the door.

Knowing she meant only the best, your tired hands clutched your bag and looked around. Where could you slip away to?! Where could you hide without them seeking you out? Where, where, wh—

The siren’s call came to you, but this time in the forms of three silhouettes, all beckoning you to follow them. Astral bandanas swayed in the wind as their whited out eyes watched you with anticipation, eagerly praying you would heed their call.

You were no fool. Giving in to the tempting invitation, you trailed after the three apparitions, and they led you up the Willow’s path. One held your hand, flashing a big toothy smile as he led you up. The other two lagged behind you, almost as if to protect you. Had you not been running for your life up the lavender hills, you may have noticed how similar these three looked to certain stories Donnie had told you of his brothers.

Never mind that, though. Y/N stumbled through the gates as they gave an eerie creek. She took a few hasty steps forward, crunching autumn leaves under the weight of her feet, before turning to look for the three spirits.

Nothing.

A chill ran down her spine, but a nervous gulp would push down all of that as she turned and ran up the castle stairs. The large door was given a heaving push then let to close behind her shaky frame.

It was dark, far too much to see, so instead Y/N took a blind step in the dark and readied her voice,

“ D-Donnie! “

Silence answered you, wrapping a shawl of empty fright around you. Your blood was running oh-so cold as tears threatened to slip, glossing over your eyes with an irresistible sheen.

“ Don—Donnie, please, it’s so—umphf! “

You stumbled, falling onto a soft surface. After a few pats, you deducted from touching it a few times that it was a carpet that you tripped on.

Well, touch, and the lights that came on just a second ago, illuminating the ornate indigo rug, tasseled at the edges. It rolled up the stairs, which split into two towards the top. A large painting was hung in the divide, between stairs going to the left and stairs to the right. Whatever was depicted had been slashed through, leaving hardly enough puzzle pieces to put the original back together.

But, that mattered far less than the figure descending the left side of the stairs, hand on the gold railing. The light basked his green skin in a warm orange hue.

“ Y/N? What are you doing here, at this hour? “

His voice was alarmed as he descended the stairs—though, looming behind him was a larger desire. Behind a mask, he was rejoicing at his victory. You had come up the path, and he didn’t even need to drag you here himself. His arms welcomed you, and you accepted the offer as you dove into the turtle’s comforting embrace. Snugly, he rubbed your back and gazed towards the windows. He wore a sinister grin, which melded into false security and worry as he pulled away from the embrace to feather-light stroke your cheeks.

“ Never mind my inquiries, dearest. Your silence is answer enough. I knew it would be only a matter of time before those snakes bared their fangs at the prettiest flower blooming. ”

You pressed into his loving hand with shut eyes. Soft sobs escaped you as light tears strum down your cheeks.

“ Where will I go, Donnie, they wish to harm me. Caspien has told my people that you have corrupted me, joined me to your evildoings, but dearest Donatello I know your truth,”

Had it not been for your softened heart, blurred eyes, and shaky touches, you would have caught how stiff those last four words made him.

“ M-My truth? “

He stammered, hands ready to betray their gentle hold on you.

“ Yes, I know you are not the monster they speak of, love. You couldn’t be. ”

Donnie loosened, leaning in close. His breath rolled over your delicate lips, of which were practically begging him to kiss them. Your doe eyes gazed up as you leaned into him, taking his lips for the first time.

One sweet kiss.

And one naive girl, obliging to belong to the true wolf.

———-

And that, my sweet lady, is how you got here.

In this gorgeous ballroom of the rumored Country Dracula’s castle atop the Willow’s path. Thunder rolled down the hills, illuminating your dimmed dance floor as well as the paths out below. Your heart dropped, seeing the smallest silhouettes in the distance marching forth.

“ Y-You … You were, you truly were the Count—-hyii! “

Y/N screeched as she was suddenly dipped, their previously dropped dance renewing itself. Her dearest partner had not missed the lamb’s eyes that gave one last once-over to the silver-backed mirrors that lined the walls.

“ Love, no. Heavens no, that was no lie. “

The dance which previously made you swoon was now making you sick. There were millions of thoughts rushing through your head: the silhouettes outside, that was the townsfolk in a mob, yes? Likely lead by Caspien, no less! And Donnie, he had no reflection, so surely that means he is… If not the monster, then surely a monster. But also, someone as kind as he—monster or not—could not truly be so foul? Though, there is the chance he could have been leading your poor heart along, but surely not! Could these gentle, loving hands truly be so…

Misleading? Manipulative? Desiring to corrupt?

“ Tut, tut, tut, Y/N, my lady, your mind seems to be straying when I,”

Another squeak slipped you as he spun you away from him then twirled you back, dipping you again with his face dangerously close. Your heart is sent fluttering.

“—should be your priority. “

The lovers’ feet begin to synchronize as he lavished your full attention.

“ As I have said before, I am not the Count Dracula. I wouldn’t even claim the title, despite living in his home. No, that, this home, I have taken as, say, payment. “

“ Payment? “

Your fingers interlaced, you noting his three fingers with familiarity.

“ Revenge might be a better word for it. My brothers and I were led here some years ago. Our guide, a time-keeper, had hoped we would be able to fix a small issue of hers. “

He spoke with a bitterness, tightening the hold his hand had with yours. You winced at this. Donnie noticed and was quick to correct his mistake.

“ The first to go was my brother, Raphael. Turns out the one true weakness my brothers and I shared was that we were powerful together, but if you take even one of us away, the rest will fall. “

“ Your brothers,”

Y/N had an eerie calmness settling in as she began to dance with almost the same liveliness as before she caught her dearest’s reflection. Her dress was riveting with almost as much excitement and energy.

“ Were they… Slain—ah! “

He pivoted, jerking you towards him with an almost graceful twirl.

“ Watch your tongue, Y/N. “

The spark of fear igniting once more in your eyes was enough for him to smirk. And this time, you caught it.

There was an uproar outside, muffled and distant, but slowly becoming too much to ignore any longer.

“ I… Apologize. For my reaction, but yes, they were… “

Your gaze left the window and returned to him. This time, he wore a new expression—one you hadn’t seen on him before. It was a sadness unlike any other you had seen. The way it played at the strings of your heart was all you needed to know for now.

You were truly, through in and throughout, enamored with Sir Donatello.. In far too deep…

“ Your silence is answer enough, my dearest Donatello… “

The way his eyes melted into yours… Whether they were just a clever ruse or a genuine show, you were prepared to venture down this path.

“ I… I am not afraid of you. That is a promise. “

“ Y/N… My lady, you are much too true and sweet. I fear you will be my undoing.. “

The two of you shared one more—or maybe, one last— kiss as the doors downstairs began to shake with thunderous banging and the crackling of outside lightning.

Everything was a recipe for tonight being a night no one would ever forget, for better..

Or for worse.

[mlleclaudine]

Artist Transforms Discarded Books Headed for the Landfill Into Enchanting Portals

by Elizabeth Beiser - My Modern Met, July 1, 2024

Tribute to a Full Moon, 2024

Artist Isobelle Ouzman first started making altered books in 2012 after coming across a box of water-logged books sitting on a street in Seattle. Little did she know that those first early experiments with cutting and gluing pages together would lead to what is now her full-time focus. Ouzman has built a career transforming discarded, unwanted books into portals to magical worlds.

While these worlds inspired by folklore and fairytales are alluring escapes from reality, Ouzman notes that art is “like a mirror—it either reflects what we already feel, or the feelings we try hard to avoid. Art extends a hand to your heart, an embrace for your soul, and sometimes adds salt to the most tender cuts.” The imaginative artist considers herself a lifelong bookworm and is fascinated by the way stories shape our understanding of the world and ourselves.

Unsurprisingly, Ouzman has a deep interest in psychology and at one point aspired to be an art therapist. In a way, she is one, building connections between herself and viewers through shared consideration of the role of storytelling. “I only hope for people to see how transformative books and stories can be to our sense of self and belonging in the world,” Ouzman tells My Modern Met.

This message of using external stories to recalibrate our interior lives fits perfectly with her medium of books. They are small in scale compared to murals or installations; but, as any book-lover knows, they contain multitudes that often bear repeated examination.

In addition to considering the role of stories in our meaning-making, Ouzman also hopes to encourage a slower, more deliberate pace for both our lives and our consumption habits. “Not everything needs to be so fast-paced, so rapid, and easy to consume,” she says. “The world moves fast enough as it is, regardless.” Most of the books Ouzman works with now are donations. By turning them into art, she’s essentially saving them from going to a landfill. Through her meticulous cutting and detailed illustrating, she turns her art-making into a meditation on meaning and patience.

To stay up to date on the artist’s work, you can follow Ouzman on Instagram.

Cultivation, 2024

Soul, 2024

Soul, 2024

Fade, 2024

The Interval, 2024

Constellation, 2023

The Fox, 2023

Messenger, 2023

Home, 2022

Squirrel at Home, 2019

Isobelle Ouzman: Website | Instagram | Facebook

[blakelivelyuniverse]

Allure Magazine - 2012

[writingwisterias]

Could I request Piers nivans x European BSAA captain? Where they’re in some way romantic. I don’t know how but let just your creativity run.

As a fellow Brit...I've done this with a British Reader! In mind. Even though us fellow Brits aren't part of the EU anymore...let's not get political tho 👀 I hope you enjoy it! ~ Mads ❤️

You both met on a mission where he was sent to the UK to help clear up a new lab that was recently found. The two of you instantly click and find comfort as you face the living nightmares together.

However like all things your time together came to an end but you kept in contact mainly using Facebook to message (don't hate me there wasn't many options to Dm back in 2012😭)

Eventually he plans to surprise you, booking a spontaneous trip to the UK during winter. Where you proceeded to drag him to all of the winter events

Boy did he pack wrong though! Nothing could have prepared him for the British rain during the winter months. Ended up buying a large coat and other things to keep warm, using you as his stylist

Treat you to dinner at your favourite and expensive restaurants...falling in love with all the British takeaways as well

Lots of movie nights with snugging - this is where you finally admit your feelings for each other

A night full of the best sex you have ever had (I know he's secretly a kinky bastard)

Whilst he's on this trip you are both planning a trip to America, looking online at all the things you could both do whilst you are there

He spoils you rotten, buying to gifts or pretty much anything you touch

When you fly to America he's treating you like a princess, taking you to his favourite restaurants not even caring about the price

He would lay out a red carpet in front of you if he could

Find your accent alluring and hot af (yes even the northern accents 😉)

Once you had been together for a while he offers you to move in, understanding it's a big change and you might need to think it through first

Practically has a heart attack when you agree before you finish the sentence

Constant arguments over what things are called "honey have you washed all my pants?" "No there's some in your drawer with the socks" "no no that's underwear" "Ohhhh you mean trousers! Yes they were all dirty"

You cook for him all the time after being disgusted by the state of American cuisine

Teaching him how to make a proper tea after he absolutely fails the first one he's ever made you

Making him watch British Television with you constantly (Strictly Come Dancing is secretly his favorite)

Mimics your accent if you begin to irritate him