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gemsofgreece · 1 year ago

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Hello!!! I was reading this post of yours (for my research) and i'm truly wondering how did Byzantine princesses wanted to take a bath?? Do you have a post for that?

I don't but I managed to find a few pieces of information about the general habits of Byzantine bathing and grooming, and particularly that of the empresses and the princesses.

"The wealthy and noble women of the empire were concerned with their looks and Christianity cast no pall on the baths nor the sale of cosmetics and perfumes. (...) Byzantine gardens, therefore, had areas set aside for aromatic flowers from which could be distilled some of the more fragrant oils. (...) Mirrors, tweezers and similar hygiene equipment would have been commonplace in a Byzantine home. (...) Michael Psellos wrote that (Empress) Zoe turned her chambers into cosmetics laboratory in which she created cosmetics and ointments to preserve her beauty well into old age. (...) Byzantine women did not use as heavy cosmetics as their earlier Roman counterparts. (...) For eye liner and darkening eye brows and lashes, kohl was very popular."

Source: http://gretchenbrownauthor.com/2018/04/08/cleanliness-and-hygiene-among-the-byzantines/

"Women washed their hair in special fragranced solutions that naturally lightened it, including saffron, turmeric, fern roots and citrin-colored sandalwood and rhubarb. The cloths they wrapped their hair in were usually brushed with perfume. People made their own scents at home. Lotions and creams were made fresh from natural sources and had to be used in a few days. (...) There were many public baths; the Byzantines - even monks and nuns - bathed frequently. One was expected to bathe twice a week. (...) The Byzantines had a wide variety of cleaning products for bodies and clothes."

Source: https://www.pallasweb.com/deesis/daily-life-in-constantinople.html

"Byzantines in the capital city of Constantinople developed public baths similar to those found in Rome, and public bathing was a daily ritual for many. (...) Unlike the Romans, who used a lot of makeup and cosmetics, the Byzantines avoided heavy preparations for their skin. Instead, they developed rich perfumes using ingredients obtained in trade from China, India, and Persia, modern-day Iran. Perfume making was developed as an esteemed trade."

Sources:

Baltoyianni, Chryssanthi. "Byzantine Jewelry." Hellenic Ministry of Culture. http://www.culture.gr/2/22/225/22501/225013/e013intro.html (accessed on July 29, 2003).

Cosgrave, Bronwyn. The Complete History of Costume and Fashion: From Ancient Egypt to the Present Day. New York: Checkmark Books, 2000.

"Let us now place ourselves in the second half of the 11th century, when a Byzantine princess arrives in Italy again; not in Rome but in Venice, although with the same nuptial purpose. This time she is Theodora Doukaina, daughter of Emperor Constantine X Doukas and Eudokia Makrembolitissa (the niece of Patriarch Michael I Cerularius) who is to marry Doge Domenico Selvo. (...) The Byzantine stravaganza of Theodora was reflected not only in the colossal retinue she led or the impressive tiara she wore at the ceremony (the one worn by her brother Michael VII, who had just inherited the imperial throne) but also in her own daily behaviour, which included such whims as bathing in the dew that his servants collected or – and here is what interests us – the refusal to touch food with her hands, so that she made use of a golden fork to prick the bites that her eunuchs had previously cut off."

Source: https://www.labrujulaverde.com/en/2020/06/how-two-byzantine-princesses-scandalized-europe-by-using-a-fork/

"While the Germans like Theophano, many of them thought her odd. The Byzantine empire was known for its luxurious, decadent ways, and Theophano was a product of that 'decadence'. She talked too much, she bathed every day, and, strangest of all, she used a two pronged utensil to bring food to her mouth (aka a fork), instead of eating with her hands like everyone else."

Source: http://www.thathistorynerd.com/2017/07/damn-girl-holy-roman-empress-theophano.html

Check here for a great link with detailed description of Byzantine public baths, how they worked and how they were taken

Peter Damian, the Cardinal Bishop of Ostia, wrote a chapter entitled "De Veneti ducis uxore quae prius nimium delicata, demum toto corpore computruit" ("Of the Venetian Doge's wife, whose body, after her excessive delicacy, entirely rotted away.") about an unnamed Byzantine princess whose manners he considered scandalously lavish and which brought to her a horrible death as a divine punishment. This woman has been mistakenly (since Damian died 1072) identified with Domenico Selvo's wife by later Venetian chroniclers (incl. Andrea Dandolo and Marino Sanuto the Younger) followed afterwards by various modern authors; however since the work in which Damianus' chapter is contained is dated ca 1059 it refers probably to Maria Argyropoulaina who had died a half century before.

From Wikipedia. Irrelevant but Maria Argyropoulaina might be the most modern Greek name I have seen in a medieval woman ever.

When, three days after the wedding, the new empress left her rooms to take her bath in the Palace of Magnaura, the court and the commonwealth gathered in queues behind her in the gardens. And when the empress passed with the servants who showed off the robes, the boxes with the perfumes, walking first, accompanied by three ladies of waiting who held apples decorated with pearls, as a symbol of erotic love, the commonwealth would cheer, the jesters of the court would make inappropriate jokes and the most important officers of the empire would escort the empress all the way to the entrance of the bath, where they waited for her to finish, and escorted her back to her bridal chambers.

Source: From The History of the Byzantine Empire by Charles Diehl, translated by me here.

They don't go into great detail as you see but I guess they are enough to give you an idea. Reminder to check the link I added above about the detailed description of the public baths - it is very interesting!

#history #middle ages #byzantine empire #byzantine culture #eastern roman empire #greek history #byzantine history #greek culture #anon #ask

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mmoxie · 1 year ago

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Part 3- Continental Breakfast

Free HBO. Always a good sign. Dani looked over at Seebs, curled up in the passenger seat around a bag of Fritos, and resolved to lie about him if they asked. She parked next to the front office and stretched after getting out of the car, putting a foot against the hood and bending each knee until she heard a dull little pop of relief.

She had been on the road for more than a day. The apartment in Chevette was clean, and for the most part intact- save for her tape tower, an old oversized Army duffel, and Seebs's bag with all his goodies. They broke west across Texas, took the I-40 through Albuquerque, and finally limped to a stop in a little town called Eureka.

She paid for her room with cash- single queen, for the week, no guests- and eased into #14, at the far end of the low, long building. No bedbugs, no bibles. Off to a good start. She set her walkman on the edge of the sink, turned the volume all the way up, and undressed as Thin Lizzy tinnily shook out of her discarded headphones.

Her teeth didn't hurt anymore, but she squinted at herself in the mirror, frowning around them. It was a good thing she smoked- the carbon graying at the edges would be a lot more conspicuous on a perfect, Hollywood smile. Everything in her life would have to be some sort of coverup now, even the little details had to do their part. She was leaving a lot behind, and had to leave the marks behind too, as much as she could.

No Chattanooga. No Chevette. No apartment.

No Wilson Titlee- You deserve it!

Fear was getting in the way of any catharsis she wanted. She hadn't been pursued as she ran away. She bought a police scanner about thirty miles out of Chevette and plugged it into the cigarette lighter, but they weren't talking about her.

It wasn't something to take for granted, but as long as she didn't hear her name- or, god forbid, Mark LaGrange- she could keep her cool.

She sat on the bed with Seebs and flipped through the channels. Crab fishing on the Discovery Channel, green wireframe models getting obliterated on Animal Planet, an expedition to find the Antarctic's secret Nazis on the History Channel.

She shook her head, flipped to Comedy Central, and let out a sigh of relief as she heard Richard Pryor yelling to an audience about the time he set himself on fire while freebasing. Sometimes comfort came from the strangest places. Didn't he star with Gene Wilder in Stir Crazy?

Oh man, I should watch Blazing Saddles again.

She made a mental note to rent a handful of Mel Brooks films the next time she found a video store.

She frowned.

...In 2020. Riiiiiight.

It was nice to have small problems. The annoyances kept her from thinking about how she evaporated a coworker. But there were other questions.

Could she do it again?

Could she control it?

Could she trigger it on purpose?

Really, could she do it again?

That was the part that made her nervous. It was like eating for the first time, then finding out what it's like to be hungry. She didn't think she wanted to make a habit out of killing Mark LaGrange, but there was something about that moment, when she became this single-minded, literal conflagration, like distilled water brought to a boil and reacting all at once. She wanted that, over and over again until the world was out of ways to abuse her.

She pet Seebs with one hand and ate her way through a vending machine honey bun with the other.

The thing was, she wasn't ambiently mad. That was always the thing- she didn't carry around a vendetta, she didn't stew for too long, she didn't want revenge on a society that let her down. In the moment, mouth full of honey bun, watching a commercial for erectile dysfunction medicine while waiting for another standup special to start, she didn't have a bone to pick with anyone.

The incandescent, pressurized fury that had turned Mark LaGrange into a pile of thin black ash wasn't a spirit of vengeance possessing her for the sake of a momentary flash of justice. The universe didn't much care to write its own wrongs like that. What had she felt when she opened her mouth, and everything fell apart?

I was trying to apologize.

At around two in the morning, she wandered over to the sidewalk by the office and helped herself to a newspaper. The Eureka Star was surely the authority on all things local- and it was prudent to keep a positive cash flow. Y'know, if you ever need to cross the country overnight, change your name and address, and remain employable.

Ugh, employable. Always had to be worth something to someone.

She flipped through the obits and weather, nodding at this or that until she got to the personal ads. Even in a town with four or so hundred people, someone always needed something done.

Landscaping, furniture movers, security... might be nice to work outside for a change.

Line cook, custodian- great jobs that were greater if you were high. She was not. She was in the middle of her teens when Nancy Reagan started her "Just Say No" campaign- which hadn't put her off the prospect, but had made the cops even worse about it. She didn't need that kind of attention right now.

Three pages in, past "Wanted: Someone to go back in time with me" and a cluster of want-ads for houses in need of painting and odd-jobs needing doing, she found an entry that she had to re-read several times.

"Coyote del Rey in need of crowd control detail for one night event. Partial pay up-front. Call 728-1856 ask for Rubén."

Vague, but vague was good. Get a job nobody wants to talk about, and they'll throw the cops off your scent for the sake of burying whatever they're doing.

She circled the entry with a ballpoint pen and turned in for the night. Deciding that watching endless commercials for commemorative coins would rot Seebs's brain, she flipped over to the SciFi network to let Rod Serling's dulcet tones serenade them to sleep.

Ooh, Walking Distance. Wasn't Gig Young in Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia? The critics really ripped that one to shreds, but good pulp is good pulp...

Meandering thoughts like that bounced back and forth across the inside of her head until she drifted off. Tomorrow she would get in touch with Rubén, and after collecting, she'd get on the road again. Canada came to mind, but maybe Mexico. If you're fleeing, you want to flee across as many borders as you can, she reasoned.

She hadn't set an alarm. God knows she deserved to sleep in after all she'd been through. But sometime around 9am, when the east Nevada sun was comfortably up over the horizon, something banged against her door.

Oh no. Come on.

"Who's there?" She tried to sound dangerous, but she was hardly awake. She leaned against the door and peered through the peephole.

A beakish nose filled her fisheye field of vision for a moment, and when it pulled back she saw a short young man with black hair and a sullen, irritated expression.

"Housekeeping," he grunted. She opened the door a crack.

"Sorry, kid. I'm good for now."

"That's alright," he replied. "I didn't want to do it."

He shuffled along, and Dani chuckled as she locked up again. Must be the owner's kid on some kind of punishment detail. Pushing a mop to build character, maybe.

Sounded a little too familiar. She shook her head sympathetically and started the coffee maker.

"You remember Duck Soup, Seebs? Groucho Marx, probably, uh... early thirties? The mirror scene, the sidecar gags..." She poured herself a cup and sat on the edge of the bed.

"It's the sword of Damocles, y'know? Come sit on the throne and see if you like it- by the way, you could be skewered at any second."

Seebs rolled over onto his back, and Dani scratched his belly. She laughed as she watched him restrain himself, bicycling back feet stopping abruptly as soon as they made contact with her hand.

"If I can get a grip on this thing, I can stop being the one in the hot seat, and start being the sword. Anyone wanting my help, they'd be on their best behavior if they thought I might... y'know, hit 'em with the atomic breath."

She watched Seebs roll over, and scratched between his ears. "Is that emotional blackmail?" She took a deep drink and raised her eyebrows, looking into his amber eyes for a real answer.

Man, what isn't?

<-Prev Next->

#IPYIHGU #dani from my bullshit

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inkovert · 2 years ago

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Apart from being two different facets of myself, Spencer and Cami are also two representations of how my depression manifests. I don’t get sad when I’m depressed, I’m either angry/irritable (Cami) or completely apathetic (Spencer). Like Cami, I struggled a lot as a teen trying to parse out my emotions and why I felt the way I felt. And the inability to articulate or comprehend that often resulted in and came through as anger/frustration. Cami’s very much the same way when we first meet her in SCIF. She feels so many things, and she hates that she can’t turn it off or distill it into one specific word or emotion for other people to understand. So it all just bleeds through as anger. Also like Teen Me (and honestly adult me to a certain extent), she’s able to make an active choice of whether to reveal those unpleasant feelings she harbors or to mask it, depending on the setting. So depending on who she’s with or what she’s doing or how professional or whatever she needs to be, she’s good at putting up a facade to get by without dealing with questions or consequences.

Spencer, my boy, is the complete opposite. My mans don’t care. Literally. He doesn’t worry about pretending to be a certain way or putting up a facade for others to feel comfortable. 9.5 times out of 10 his face is completely impassive and unreadable. You could be telling him the happiest or the strangest news anyone’s heard in the world and the most you may get is a minimal lift of his brow. It takes a lot to shift his demeanor. He only cares about getting done what he needs to get done and then escaping from people, whether through books or music. This is more so how my depression manifests now as an adult. It’s kind of amusing (not the right word but can’t think of a better one) to see the way the two of them interact, because they’re both dealing with very similar things on the inside but because of the way those emotions manifest they make snap judgements about the other and initially do not get along. And I’m just sitting there watching them interact like oh :’) if only you knew. But they don’t, ‘cause how could they? You never know what someone else is going through or what’s going on in their head to make them act the way they do. Which is a pretty big theme of the story overall.

I don’t think I did this intentionally (at least not with Spencer, that was just sort of how his character emerged in my mind when I created him), but I kinda like having this private part of myself (among others) infused into my characters. And, although awareness of mental illness is getting a lot better now, I still think it’s important for teens to know that depression often =/= sadness. It manifests in so many ways, which is something I wish I’d known a lot earlier in my life.

#wip: MDE #inkoverted thoughts #idk this has been on my mind lately so just wanted to write it down and put it into words #cause I do find it oddly pleasing #why did welcome to my life by simple plan get stuck in my head immediately after I posted this lol

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egipci · 6 days ago

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"Imagine a universe that began 15 billion years ago.

But you cannot. It’s impossible: we can understand what 15 billion means, we know how to divide it and multiply it. But we cannot imagine 15 billion years.

Nevertheless, try.

Imagine that 15 billion years ago this universe was compressed into a mass you could hold in your hand which then exploded so powerfully that within a millionth of a second it had been scattered over a space 30,000 million kilometres across.

We can understand, but we cannot imagine.

Gradually this universe cools. Its burning gases form into great swirling patterns, galaxies, a hundred million of them. In one of these a ball of fire, many light years from the galaxy’s centre, spawns a string of lesser fireballs that cool into what we call planets. One did so 4,600 million years ago.

We are getting closer to home: indeed this is the planet that, in the midst of this absolutely awesome universe is our home.

Its atmosphere filtered out radiation, burned up flying cosmic debris, and distilled water. Once, in the depths of the planet’s salty oceans obscure chemical processes that have perhaps occurred nowhere else in all of this vast universe, produced the first living organisms. These became ever more complex and varied – vegetable, mollusc, fish, amphibian, reptile, mammal – and, a mere few million years ago – but that’s still unimaginable! – a kind of ape evolved into the beings we call humans.

Who, then, are these humans?

Their science calculates the times, distances, causes and origins of the universe. Yet their understanding of themselves, their motives and values, remains obscure and contradictory, their mastery of themselves fitful and weak.

What drives them to wage war upon each other, to torture and maim? And how, then, can these same beings also create such beauty in stone, glass, song, paint, movement, word?

What moves them to love, to pledge eternal faithfulness, to sacrifice themselves for others, even unto death?

Could we imagine such beings, if they were not beings like us?

Strangest of all, these beings, these accidental by-products of a vast cosmic explosion, say of themselves that they are made in the image of a God, a God who is love and who, as love, is, they say, also the source and measure of all that is, the love that moves the sun and stars. And, fully aware of their mortality and of their moral failings, they also say of themselves that they were made for something more: that one of their number who died, and died an excruciating death, was raised again, sowing a seed of hope that, at the last, we will not be swallowed by the final sigh of a freezing universe, but will hear (what our early English prayer Book called) our redeemer’s ‘most joyful voice’ calling: ‘Come unto me, O ye that be blessed of God, and possess the kingdom which is prepared for you from the beginning of the world’. From the unimaginably distant beginning of the world this life, this joy, is our destined end.

There is no time now to debate the truth of this story, to test the claim and counter-claim of history and logic. But let us consider that, were it true, then every look, and every word and every touch would be a way of saying each to other: ‘You were not made for death, but we were made to share together the joy of paradise! And true or not, if we could mean it, then indeed the joy of paradise might even now be ours.’

Dare we, this Eastertide, imagine this?"

"Easter 1999 Sermon," by George Pattison

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awisetoad · 2 months ago

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warning: 🌶️ 🌶️ 🌶️ 🌶️ 🌶️ 🌶️ 🌶️ muy caliente, 5 million scoville post, be warned all ye who enter here 🌶️ 🌶️ 🌶️ 🌶️ 🌶️ 🌶️ 🌶️ 🌶️

this thread, tho. second one I've seen recently about moodboards, (even if it is old). and holy bazooka batman—

this is one of the strangest threads I've ever seen. truly wild. like, I said it before after I saw the first one of these posts, but where did y'all learn what moodboards are? it's like, tell me you haven't worked in a (visual) creative professional capacity without telling me. honestly.

tho i admit it's really interesting how fan spaces have effectively minted popularity/clout in lieu of any kind of currency with literal monetary value.

(DISCLAIMER: idgaf if I'm not changing anyone's mind, I'm not genuinely trying to join this discussion, I'm just noting my thoughts about this whole topic bc it honestly seems like the strangest take IMO; please feel welcome to ignore or disagree, I really do not care)

like the entire thing protecting fan spaces from litigation at all is the fact that it can't really be for profit (like real, big profit).

(isn't that the point of OTW? to protect poeple's right to make fanworks but that hinges on fan works not making real money at all, yeah?)

when fan artists make $$ of their work, they can absolutely still be taken to court by the owner of the original IP if they so choose (whether or not fan artists have a chance of winning that lawsuit using "transformative" and "fair use" arguments is another story, and not the point I'm making).

so truly, the fan spaces only exist by the grace of two groups:

groups protecting the rights of fan artists who create for 0 compensation and

IP owners who know even if a fan artist makes some money, the monetary damages aren't worth suing over, and who understand that one of the reasons it isn't worth suing over is because it's all basically free marketing for them & their brand, and the monetary value of this free marketing and brand loyalty far outweighs what they would recoup in damages.

(tl;dr, it's good business not to sue fan creators, usually, because what they gain is far more valuable)

so this post is just an interesting case study of how, in fan spaces, given the lack of actual monetary damages to sue over (and where there is no "good business" argument to make), we choose to perceive the value of social currency as if it equates to monetary value.

that is, social clout for its own sake holds enough "actual" value within our circles that we should be "afraid" of the social backlash that comes from creating unwelcome derivatives, or derivative-of-derivative fan works (or, in this specific case: curating inspiration for fan works?)

unless we create in a "legit" way— as in, a way that's acceptable by way of a collection of made-up, undocumented group-norms that we ourselves determine— we risk becoming a social pariah and excommunicated from fan spaces. (isn't that wild?)

if we take the moodboard in its regular definition— as a visual artifact created from various sources for inspirational/creative distillation purposes in service of creating something else— then almost literally everyone in a professional creative role (especially jobs like art director) is "stealing" or has "stolen" at some point in their career jsyk

not a single one of them has asked permission. really.

I can't literally guarantee it but I'd say probably in like 98.9% of cases, creative professionals do not ask permission to use anothers' work as inspiration/on their moodboard. (the idea of that is so unhinged it's laughable)

the only difference is they're not usually being public about their inspiration/moodboards or where their inspiration comes from, and in agency/commercial/professional settings it's not surprising to see "INTERNAL USE ONLY" stamped on those kinds of strategy docs. the exception is during the press tour when artists are asked in an interview about what inspired them and they can usually point to several specific works or name several artists directly— aka offering credit, which per above is "not enough".

but here, in fan spaces, the "rules" of the conventional professional creative process often don't apply. fan audiences are often encouraging, collaboratively making, and offering real-time feedback to fan creators; and, we're doing so on public platforms in public online spaces with (usually) 0 expectation of monetary compensation in any way. We're often deeply engaged with each others' process in a way that the commerical-to-consumer audience process is usually not. so, in these cases, should "INTERNAL USE ONLY" still apply?

(example: head canons spread to become so ubiquitous they've been absorbed into popular "fan lore" about an IP, such as the braiding/beads thing with dwarves in the hobbit. to the point where there's so many takes on this that giving credit isn't even wholly necessary. explain to me how that's different than a moodboard in its use as creative inspiration. I'll wait.)

what incentive is there to keep that stuff "private" when so much of fan spaces is public, collaborative excitement? and why on earth are we holding ourselves to a stricter standard than those who do the same to make real, actual profit?

(it really reminds me of the smooth-brain argument about using reference image to draw lol and how that's not "real art". not exactly the same, but these issues are definitely cousins a few times removed. like, these two issues could get married and they'd be accused of consanguinity, lmfao)

y'all might think I'm missing the point of "aesthetic moodboard" posts because they're "different" somehow, but I promise I'm not. two big reasons: 1) it does not equate to the same kind of influencer account as you might find on instagram or TikTok 2) IMO, what are aesthetic moodboard posts other than shared and effectively outsourced curated inspiration? (again, see widespread head canons and also fic prompts and imagines as non visual examples, but it's the same fucking thing)

The reasons it's different than what you see with influencers on TikTok is because usually here on Tumblr we're not actually aiming for landing sponsor deals which bring us income. On influencer-centered platforms, the size of the following and other stats about reach & impressions are grounds to negotiate better compensation for sponsored posts, and all posts associated with an account are created with the goal of usually growth or sales, and both ultimately directly impact compensation (in the form of cash or gifts). what I'm arguing is that none of that really applies here in ao3/tumblr's fan spaces bc in theory nothing is sponsored at all, even if posts are made to expand reach, the other half of the equation ($$$) isn't there.

and truly, I'm not arguing that these kinds of posts should be devoid of credits. obviously, including credit/sources is the courteous and right thing to do, but I have never once assumed that the poster of the moodboard made the images used in it, even if there are no credits, is the point.

bc mood boards are generally not made with your own images, lol. like, inherently. purely by nature of the thing (see above: a visual artifact created for inspirational purposes, etc etc). so, I don't think outright "theft" is exactly right; they may have curated the images, but they didn't create the images and I don't think anyone is confused by that.

(which is literally one of the arguments in copyright/trademark: public confusion about shit)

I think it's a bit ridiculous to think that you should only be finding and curating inspiration from the public domain. that's not how inspiration works, first of all. (and y'all aren't ready for how inspiration DOES work bc if this topic gets you hot you will boil about the AI part of that ted talk) and I think aesthetic accounts do a lot in service of other fan creators, by distilling creative direction to serve as a jumping off point. for the third time, non visual examples of this are literally imagines and widespread head canons, but I think the outrage about those is far less than with moodboards. and I'll even go a step further and make the controversial statement that moodboards could be considered derivative-of-derivative fan content, even when cropped and/or lightly edited.

(and I'll really go here and broach the philosophical topic: why should someone ask permission to make transformative works based off your edit/cosplay of sam & dean, when y'all didn't ask kripke, et al? is that not technically a double standard? again, not arguing that you SHOULDN'T ask permission, or arguing that you SHOULDN'T give credit. but, I'm posing the question of what is the difference, especially in spaces with no monetary gains? and I'll follow up by asking: should we be more cautious because social currency is all there is to gain, or should we be more lenient because we're all just supposed to be having harmless fun here?)

It's not really like the cake analogy. If anything, it's more like snapping a pic of the cake in the bakery shop window and using it, along with several other pictures of cakes you pulled off the internet, to maybe attempt to DIY a similar cake for yourself, or to send to your baker to explain what you want, or even to send to your friends' group chat or frame and hang on your wall bc you simply like the vibes.

(y'all be acting like these folks are claiming they are the dp of outlander or some shit, the way you believe they are "taking credit" for that fucking still of Jamie & Claire on the damn horse. and that's just laughable)

at the end of the day, you need to understand: you no longer have complete control over anything that gets posted publicly. online or offline. regardless of whether you actually see how it gets spread and used or not. once it's out in the world, it's free of your control.

(just like how artists can't control how others' interpret their works, ultimately. people will hold their own opinions regardless & often aggressively in spite of artistic intent.)

and then you need to ask yourself: is the inclusion of this work/fanwork in this not-for-profit inspirational moodboard actually causing harm to the artist/fanartist, and if they are, in what way? is it damaging to their brand? is it causing the artist to miss out on sales or opportunities? can they legally win statutory damages, and is going after all that going to be monetarily viable? is it worth it? and if it's not, should you care? especially if the moodboard isn't making money, maybe it's better and healthier to just… chill, maybe?

I honestly suspect that screeching and heated and generally overly-strict vehemence about these kinds of topics is alienating to people who may not pick up on social cues well (for example, some neurodivergent folks) as it ultimately ends up making the space feel unwelcome and unfriendly out of fear & anxiety of making a social faux-pas, so it's better to not engage at all for fear of social ostracization which is absolutely the nightmare timeline for a lot of people who may not socialize well in general, and may turn to these spaces as one of their few sources of community/inclusion.

I personally would rather have a relaxed, welcoming fun space to enjoy than another one I have to worry about getting yelled at in, lol

tl;dr: offering credit is plenty good enough and way more than what creative professionals actually do daily, what the fuck are y'all talking about

…fascinating subject and I also kind of hate it a little :)

(DISCLAIMER AGAIN: feel free to disagree, I MIGHT respond to a real discussion/counterpoint but don't bother trying to pull me into some kind of fight because you will not succeed. it's literally not worth my time & I guarantee you have not met someone who gives less fucks than I)

#spicy post #controversial yap #don't come at me bc I don't care #sorry not even remotely sorry #grumble

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supersaiyanjisoo · 3 years ago

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On behalf of myself and @hayyie , may i also request the prompt: Sweaters -”Don’t show that cute face to just anyone" for Z Broly and Cheelai? 👀👉👈

Thank you for both of your requests! I'm answering this one first because the first one you submitted will be a bit longer, so it'll take me a bit more time. Sorry for the delay!

There also may be incoherence with the original Broly movies bc I haven't watched them in a long time, sorry. I also hope you don't mind language mistakes because there's a tone of it. You can beat me for it

Rating: M

Warnings: AU, angst, toxic relationship, physical abuse, err OOC MUCH?? help

Against his skin, even silk felt cold, rough, sickening.

“Ugh… Gh…”

Cold sweats ran along his spine, streamed down to his loins as groans made their way through gritted teeth. The sheet he clung to in his trembling fist barely resisted a second, and when he tore it off, conscience resurfaced instantly, breaking the slumber.

He jumped awake, his fingers digging holes in the mattress, his face wincing.

“Ah… Gh…”

Broly put a hand on his head in an attempt to hush the growing headache that was getting to him, as the other one searched along the bed for a source of warmth. But all it met was coldness.

“Cheelai!...” He grunted, his taps becoming impatient. “Cheelai!”

Stiffness was all there was in the air, and it grew nothing in him but anger. His nails slowly scratched the place where she was supposed to be. He felt not a hint of warmth nor presence; he bitterly found she was long gone.

Regaining his senses, he instinctively looked for her energy, only to feel it peacefully vibrating a few rooms away. However, this information, which would reassure any ‘companion’, only made the frustration greater.

Exhaling furiously, Broly jumped out of bed and rushed into the corridor. If the door had not been automated, he would have certainly blown it open from the rage alone.

The lousy creatures he met on his way fled away as soon as they saw him and his clenched fists. These people were pitiful, but nobody was enough of a fool to risk themselves around him in this state. Thankfully for them, all he thought of in this instant was Cheelai. Putting down these maggots that disgusted him would be nothing but lost time.

He felt her energy sparkle a little brighter in the meanwhile.

That little wench!...

Among all the repugnant creatures that seemed to proliferate around him, she certainly was the strangest. The most irritating of it all was by far these expressions of her.

The only emotion eyes turned toward him ever expressed was fear and dread. Even his father’s, though he thought he hid it well.

But not her.

Mad enough to play with him and not deal with the consequences. To grimace at him. To frown at him. To pout, even. Teasing. To provoke and despise him, and yet revolve around him like an excited bug around a flame. Why he hadn’t squashed her as such as soon as she began playing that game remained a mystery to him.

Perhaps because among all these diverse expressions, she never showed that fear he took delight in, nor did she spare him a smile. She grinned and beamed to anyone she encountered –anyone but him.

That struck down a nerve.

Especially when he finally found her sniggering in delight, gambling with a couple of maggots that were from the spaceship’s crew, in a storeroom.

“There we go, losers, jackpot’s mine!”

Cheelai giggled and laughed as she embraced the money that laid upon the gaming table, blatantly not noticing the mortified expression of the players. That until the freezing silence that distilled between them made her look up to them and frown deeply.

“Huh? What’s gotten all into you so suddenly?”

She eventually followed their gaze. Needless to say, the sight of the two-meter tall Saiyan with a stare so fierce it seemed he could break them with a blink kept them shut.

Cheelai, on the other hand, just sighed plainly, losing her joyful expression.

“...Damn. I guess it’s useless for me to try to run now, isn’t it?”

Broly said nothing, but the irritated yet still mocking grin he showed was enough of an enlightenment on the question. She sighed again, pushed her chair and stood up, surrendering. Yet before she could put a hand on her totally-legitimately acquired pot, Broly crudely grabbed her arm and began walking up to the front door. The small woman uttered an outraged gasp, he pulled her along.

“Oh, come on! I gained that money fair and square– I’m not even putting on a fight, let me at least–”

No.

He kept walking. In one last desperate attempt, she shot a provocative smirk at the dumbstruck table behind her, all with a pointed finger accusing them when they had done nothing still.

“You better give me back my money, you hear me?! It’s mine, I won it–”

Broly shoved her across the door before she could finish her sentence, not letting go of her, however. On the contrary. His grasp on her was firmer.

They tensed him. All those sarcastic smirks and happy smiles she scattered all the same to the lowest scum, they tensed him.

His fist firm upon her upper arm, he dragged her more than they walked along the spaceships’ corridors. Or rather, he walked and she jogged when she didn’t have to run to follow his pace. It couldn’t be helped: what she did in three steps, he did in one.

“Hey! Hey, slow down, will ya?! Don’t you know that short people have short legs?!”

In all honesty, though he could have simply flung her upon his shoulder like a vulgar sack and arrive much faster, watching her struggle and complain pleased him.

…Pleased him.

How pitiful it all was.

In his current situation, that was as much as he could afford of an entertainment –tssk, just thinking about it was absolutely infuriating. To be reduced to finding a semblance of amusement at night, when his father was asleep and the control device’s effect somewhat wavered, in a weak woman trying to keep up with his pace, almost stumbling in the process, threatening him with hits and words that barely felt like a tickle against his skin. She threw excuses at his face, as if it would ever change anything.

“I was hungry, alright?! You shouldn’t be surprised! You slavers barely give us anything to eat, then they invited me and–”

Slavers? Now that was a big word for someone privileged by chance. Not everyone was allowed to sleep in a wide and comfortable bed, snuggled under the warmth of covers. He could have let her sleep like any of the ships' servants: curled up in a corner, with nothing but her own arms to find a little comfort.

Why she did not try to drag on his favor as soon as she noticed his unusual interest in her was beyond him.

“Ugh, whatever, I don’t even know why I’m trying to argue with you!”

She puffed, avoiding his gaze and finally giving in.

Her always ending up either throwing a fit or childishly ignoring him was always where their fights ended up anyway. Sometimes, he wondered if she ever expected anything more from him than this.

If she did, then she was a fool.

Was she ever to annoy him too much, he could just crush her, couldn’t he? Nobody would ever notice. His father himself wouldn’t care if it did not go further than that, if he did not let himself get drunk on the pleasure of destruction again. He did not care about his son keeping her as a pet, after all.

As far as he knew, she had no family, and as far as friends were concerned, there were none. All that tied the worms working for him and his father in this ship, what they believed to be ‘friendship’ and ‘solidarity’, was simply the fruit of promiscuity and shared hatred for their masters they were too weak to defend themselves against. Were she to disappear, they’d never protest, or even open their pitiful mouths to utter a cry that could be held against them. Because they were weak cowards.

And yet she refused to see it.

He despised those delusions of her to no end, but… that had to be what made her different.

She was undeniably, indisputably weak. Yet she was strong.

And he wanted to see to what extent she could remain so. Yes, that was certainly why she interested him. It was a game of resistance.

He could kill her whenever he wanted, however he wanted to see her break, slowly, day by day, until, finally, she’d freeze in horror, kneel and plead like anyone else. Only then would he lose interest, after this brief moment of bestial pleasure, and he’d finish her.

Not tonight, though. No, she was still resisting. No, he wanted to sleep, first. Sleep, and then he’ll see how far she’ll go down that silly little path of hers.

He wanted her to lose sleep fearing being beside him, a fear not even a nice bed could make up for. Indeed, that’s what he needed.

Nevertheless, when they passed through an intersection, he did not choose the corridor that led to his quarters. Cheelai noticed it, and her voice came back out of the blue:

“Didn’t we just pass by your chamber? Where’re you taking me?”

As always, he did not answer nor let go. They walked for a few minutes still, minutes that felt like an eternity to Cheelai. Then a massive door appeared. Unlike the others they went through until now, it did not automatically open.

A soft, delicate perfume of freshly cooked meat and vegetables wafted near it, caressing Cheelai’s nostrils. She did not even try to hide the drool running down her chin.

“Hey”, she gulped, “isn’t this…”

Broly put his large palm upon the digital scanner attached to the wall. With a single beep, the screen became green, and the door opened.

He let go of her as the door shut behind them.

“Eat,” he ordered bluntly, “then we’ll go back to the chamber.”

He left her stunned then sat on a stool, put his feet on the table in front of it, and chewed on a piece of dry meat that was loafing there. Cheelai watched, and closed her eyes as her brows went up in disbelief.

“You really don’t know anything about women, do you, Broly? Scratch that, you don’t know about people at all.” She sighed. “You’re so bad at basic communication. Can’t you just show a little consideration? Like a ‘I’ll get you to the kitchen’ beforehand? Or just admit you’ll do me a favor? Anything really, other than ‘eat’?”

Broly scoffed.

“A favor? You’re delusional. I’m just making sure you’re not troubling my sleep again tonight.”

“Yeah, right, because your sleep is sooo peaceful whether or not I’m sleeping on your bedding!” She said with a solid dose of sarcasm, raising her arms. “Gu, gha ha, boo hoo, ee, ee! You always sound like an animal in rut!” She exclaimed, putting a hand on her heart to emphasize her imitation of him. “And you’re the one complaining?!”

He stood up abruptly, his eyes shooting daggers, startling her a bit.

“If you are not eating, then I’m taking you back.” He said matter-of-factly, though it was clear in his tone of voice that her words hit a raw nerve.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry, geez! I didn’t know it was such a touchy subject. You really have a short fuse.”

He hummed grumpily and settled back down on the stool as Cheelai turned around and served herself a bowl of soup from a still steaming cooking pot. The generous taste of vegetables and spices warming her tongue and belly changed her pouting attitude instantly; a myriad of stars sparkled in her mauve eyes.

She mumbled to herself, “Oh shoot, that’s good.”

She quickly refilled her bowl, though it was not empty yet, as if scared that someone would soon take it away from her, and gulped it down.

Witnessing her messy manners and overly moisturized lips from the corner of his eyes, Broly snorted.

They stayed so, in a moment in silence, each one simply enjoying the midnight snack. It was only when the young woman had emptied her third bowl, let out a happy sigh of solace, and stared back at him curiously, that Broly knew that his moment of peace was over.

“Say… Did something… happen before?”

He arched an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes.

“I mean, no one is born with a sleep THAT tormented. And certainly not a Saiyan.”

His expression darkened, but not for long. He glanced at the door.

“Someone is coming”, he announced abruptly.

“Wha–”

The door opened, and Cheelai went rigid as she looked at it. Thankfully, the stare she met was none other than one of her friend’s, a stubby middle-aged alien lady that worked for the canteen. She glared at her with round eyes.

“Cheelai! How did you get here?!”

It only occurred now to Cheelai that she could not see Broly. Though he had not moved an inch, he was actually sitting at a table in a narrow space that looked more like a forgotten portion of corridor than a corner, and while Cheelai could see him as she was on the same level as him, he was in a total blind spot for the old woman that remained in the kitchen’s entrance, a whole wall comfortably hiding him. She looked at him from the corner of her eyes, and all he did was continue eating without a single care in the world.

He knew she was calling him a jerk internally, but that wasn’t his problem.

“I, huh, got a special authorization?...” She shrugged.

The lady deposed a pile of dirty dishes down a sink that was thankfully close to the entrance.

“You managed to sneak in again, didn’t you? My goodness…” She sighed. “Do you know what’ll happen if you continue like this? I can’t cover up for you eternally!”

Cheelai emitted a light “mmh-mmh”, at the moment way more concerned about not letting her friend discover Broly’s presence in order not to let her have a heart-attack. Babbling nonsense as she tried to distract the lady in any direction but his. That was quite entertaining for him to watch, honestly.

“Listen”, the woman finally said as she grabbed Cheelai’s shoulders and stared into her eyes –and though she knew her to be considerate, that was quite unsettling for the poor girl as the lady’s eyeballs were pitch black. “I know we gotta stick with one another in this situation.” (She hadn’t wanted to end up here neither, as the entirety of the crew.) “You know you are precious to each of us– you’re like us, but do you know what they'll make of me if they knew I let you in and out as you please?”

“Err, do we need to have that conversation now?”

“Yes, because you don’t listen!”

The lady puffed, but instead of directly giving Cheelai a dressing-down, she turned around the stove and, with a mechanical movement, filled with food clean dishes she added to her second pair of arms. At the same time, she flooded Cheelai with a handful of blames, telling her she was not careful enough, that she just heard that the younger Saiyan –she only called them masters in front of them– had woken up and was looking for her, that they were all on the same boat but that she needed to think of the security of the community first.

It amused Broly, seeing them believe they could unite or something. Against his father? Maybe. Against him? Ah! What a bunch of dreamers.

“You’re lucky I’m in a rush right now”, the woman blurted out when she finally directed back to the entrance, her four arms full of dishes. “By the time I’m back, you better be gone! This man– he’s already terrifying, I don’t even want to imagine him being angry –do you remember what he did to that poor guy that tried to fight back? Oh, I can’t even think about it. It’s bad for my heart. Come on! Shoo, shoo!”

Cheelai protested. “Hey, don’t be so cold-hearted! I feel like you’re kinda forgetting he could kill me as well!”

The woman stared back at her, and blinked. “Oh, who, you? But there’s no way. He’s the nastiest man I’ve ever seen, but each one has their flaws, and him… He likes you too much.”

Cheelai went mute, her eyes wide.

The woman shrugged.

“I know it’s not pleasant for you, but we’ve got to exploit that if we want to get out of here. Hang in there, Cheelai. Oh, by the way, there are some leftovers in the fridge. Take that to your room if you’re too hungry –I’ve got another way to help the others.”

It took a second for Cheelai to take a hold of herself, but when she did, she offered nothing but the brightest smile to her friend, unfortunately her cheeks were now brighter in color. Scratching her head as she tried to hide away her embarrassment, she responded in an unsteady voice:

“R-Really? Thanks! I’ll take the offer!”

Her friend smiled back, and finally, finally exited the room.

Broly said no more, moved no more in his corner. But Cheelai surely refused to think about his train of thought right now.

Each one has their flaws, and him… He likes you too much.

Surely those words would have an impact, and she knew they couldn’t do any good to his oversized ego.

If he ultimately decided, because of those words, that leaving her alive was not worth it, because Saiyans had no flaws, and he above all had no flaws, that he should kill her, right here, right now, then she did not want to think about it.

If she left now, he’d know she guessed, and what he would do then, she did not want to think about it.

No matter which way she looked at it, the only way she could perhaps escape this nightmare-like situation, was acting… natural.

“Man, you really didn’t help, you know?!” She burst out, clenching her fists. “Couldn’t you at least try to hide? Or to show up? I don’t care which one! Since when do you do things by halves?!”

He did not answer. Instead, he indicated her to come to him with a gestate of his index.

Cheelai lost her breath. That was it. She was done for.

But instead of fearing for her death and feeling the urge to flee, it struck a sparkle of rebellion within her. Besides, she knew that if she ran away now, he’d slaughter everyone on the ship until he found her. She could not put the others in danger. There was no way around it.

Though he was not even sparing her a glance, she gave him a black look.

Oh, so you want to kill me? Fine. But I’ll warn you. I’ll bite.

She approached, tense and alert, ready to react, and yet he was faster than her. As always. Before she could do anything, he grabbed her wrist, and she felt herself falling for a second. Instinctively, she closed her eyes.

Damn!...

She couldn’t even fight back.

She waited for the pain to come, hoped for the agony to be short, but what she found instead was an unexpected heat under her legs and around her wrists.

She opened her eyes. He was staring back at them.

“Don’t show that cute face to just anyone. That’s how you’ll get killed. Didn’t you hear? She said she’d denounce you. That she’d abandon you for her own safety. That she’ll betray you. And of all things you smile. I don’t understand.”

Her mouth formed a slight ‘o’ of surprise. She now realized he had sit her down upon one of his thighs, which was wide enough for her to be comfortable, yet he still had to look down on her. He just let go of her wrists, and her hands obliviously fell upon his chest.

The difference between what she expected and what happened was so great that, for once, she did not know what to reply. She was too astounded to rely on her usual provocations. Her thoughts were simply blank.

“These men, too”, he growled, his pupils diverting from her. He was alluding to the gamblers he found her playing with. “You smiled at them when they did nothing to help you and kept your money. At least I am honest with you. But you just glare at me. I hate it.”

She shook her head slightly, her mouth opened but no sound coming out, dumbstruck by the words he was uttering, but even more by the behavior he was showing.

Childish. He was childish.

The man that kept them all trembling in fear was childish.

“Wo-o-ow, hold on”, she said, finally regaining her senses and showing her palms, “Just hang on a sec– are, are you saying, you’re, jealous?” She squinted her eyes, emphasizing the fact that even her could not believe what she was saying.

He frowned, looking honestly extremely offended.

It was too late. Cheelai now had her hands on her mouth, her shoulders already jerking off every now and then from the laughter she was holding in. The second Broly’s eyelids opened a little bit wider, she exploded and hold her tummy as her laughter resonated against the suspended utensils of the kitchen.

It was not only just the situation that felt so hilariously out of character from him– it was her previous stress that made these giggles so relaxing. She honestly couldn’t care about his reaction, at this point. She swung her legs up and down, wiping the tears that came out of her eyes.

“Oh, oh my God, ah ah ah, you’re such a weirdo!”

He was puzzled.

Whatever he expected her first smile for him to be, it was not… that.

Sometimes, he imagined a fully pained smile. Most of the time, a provocative one. Rarely, a sad one, perhaps. To which he would all respond with a sadistic one.

This one, however, it displeased him.

It displeased him, for he did not know how to respond. For he seemed not to mind.

He took her back to the chamber after that. Their little escapade seemed to have stimulated her a bit too much however, and it took her a long time to find sleep. When she did, nonetheless, she seemed overly peaceful and calm, as if that laughter of her had exorcised all of her demons.

The fear he wanted on her face had never been so far.

He couldn’t understand that woman.

He expected an even greater frustration to arise within, and yet nothing. In the bed, beside her, all he felt was a certain emptiness, punctuated by her slow breaths.

He couldn’t understand himself.

Say… Did something… happen before?

I mean, no one is born with a sleep THAT tormented. And certainly not a Saiyan.

She had completely forgotten her question. And he was not one to remind it back to her.

Slowly, he moved to his side, facing her sleeping figure, and cupped her waist in his hand. Careful not to wake her –all he got from her was a sleepy whimper–, he dragged her body like a ragdoll near him, and stuck his head against her tummy, between her breasts and belly button, feeling the curves of her ribs heave up and down. He closed his eyes.

He just enjoyed a warmth in his bed. Nothing more.

He just enjoyed nights without cries. Nothing more.

He just enjoyed nights where he had the slightest sense of himself again.

It did not matter if the warmth and breaths he listened to came from a woman he planned to kill one day. It did not.

He’s the nastiest man I’ve ever seen, but each one has their flaws, and him… He likes you too much.

We’ve got to exploit that if we want to get out of here.

His eyes flew open. His grip on Cheelai’s body became tighter, dragging a mewl from her.

If this woman were to become his weakness, then so be it.

He just had to get rid of those who knew.

It wouldn’t be that hard.

Too easy, even.

#it really isn't great i'm so sorry dijuhisjdsjnsbdinsks #my fanfiction #my writing #fanfiction requests #brolai #broly x cheelai #cheelai

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wonderful-prompts · 3 years ago

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Hi, got any prompts or story ideas about zombies being brought back from the dead? idk I just need some ideas bc I just want to write a quick short story about them.

I don’t have any but I’m about to make some.

1. The Romance in “Necromancer”

She said she would live for her, but not like this. Never like this.

The mirror of polished black obsidian showed a grayed, decomposing face she could only barely recognize as her own. Beyond that mirror was her beloved’s face, still warm with life. The adoration in the woman’s eyes hadn’t ceased even with the way the skin had started slipping off of rotting meat.

“Why?” she whispered, hoping her words could still be understood with an eroded voice box. “Why would you do this?”

2. (Scientist) Gone Mad

The whispers that echoed through the halls were of no consequence to someone who knew the true value of work. It was the promise of immortality that got them this far, and their work had proved that the greatest reward in history awaited them.

However, their animal test subjects didn’t seem to take to their pet project as well as they had thought.

3. Like Father…

There were too many steps involved in resurrection.

He’d studied this for almost as long as he was able to read and continued even after his sight began to fade. He would test two or three methods on one corpse and see just how long it was until he heard the tentative scrabbling of decomposing fingers at grave sides.

He’d gotten down to twelve (and a half) possible methods that worked and resolved to continue distilling his methods to a perfect science.

It wasn’t until he inadvertently blended too many into one that he ran into an issue.

“Papa, why is it so cold?”

He squinted at the tombstone he had robbed of a body. Somehow, he’d also managed to get the child instead of the father.

4. Mob Mentality

Pure hubris had led the group to this point, and it would be hubris that would get them out of this mess.

At least, until one of them was suspected of the murder of a recently reanimated (non-intelligent) colleague.

5. Unethical

“What the hell are you doing?!”

The other researcher, who had been bringing hams sealed in denim to an undead subject, paid no attention beyond a short wave and propelling themself (and their wheelchair) across the room for a cabbage wrapped the same way.

“Who authorized you to do this?”

The sudden stop got a real response this time: a cold glare.

“You will take your hands off of my chair and speak in a civil matter when addressing me.”

The man’s grip tightened on the handles. Through grit teeth, he spoke, “Who authorized this?”

“Someone too far above either of us to complain about it. Now get your grimy fucking hands off of my chair.”

6. A Matter of Survival

The person in the chainmail and helmet had been riding a unicycle. And that was not the strangest thing that was happening at the moment because there was a swarm of zombies following them and their French horn’s song like the goddamn Pied Piper of Hamelin. The mass of former corpses swayed in time with a melody soon followed by a drum beat. Which was played by a woman dressed in enough denim that one couldn’t see the whites of her eyes even up close.

Sure, [Protagonist] might not have eaten in a couple days, but that couldn’t possibly lead to… whatever the fuck this is. They’d slept as well as they could on an empty stomach but this was a new kind of weird that hadn’t existed even in fever dreams.

#they are asking questions...#requested prompt #zombies #necromancy #cw death #body horror #decomposition of a human body #writing prompts #profanity #wonderful prompts

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freshfunsublime-blog1 · 4 years ago

Text

A piece of writing

The strangest day

On a hot and Sunday morning I crouch up feeling sore and tired, threw the furry sheet out of the way while taking a wide yawn. I yell “Mrs. Rose are you up yet? ” And don’t receive any response which made me furious and bewailed, my assistant gets me on my nerves with her actions. I try to get out of the pink shaded-bouncy bed to confront her, as I walk down the stairs arching my back towards the kitchen, which is where you will mostly find her in the mornings. My jaw dropped as I move forward, I saw on the table there were, freshly cooked beans, bread with butter and a cup of sugarless- black tea. I rub my eyes in disbelief, this can’t be possible. Why would Mrs. Rose make me breakfast? She has never even heated a pan for me in 14 years, I heard footsteps proceeding towards the kitchen Mrs. Rose enters with a wide grin on her baby-looking face(I have never seen her smile), no one can tell she is 40-year-old women with two kids, who she abandoned. My dad had found her in the buzzy train while going to work, handing out flyers to find a to find a job as a helper and that was perfect since my dad and mom were always out for work and needed someone to look after me. Mrs. Rose greeted me and asked to finish my food, I was appalled at those words. It was as if I was hearing things, I didn’t think of it much and moved on, maybe it was her birthday or something. An hour and a half had already passed, I put on a striped red and white dress with bright red boots with a silky white coloured bow on my brown glossy-thick hair to go out for a fresh air as I step out the wooden door, I hear studently heavy droplets falling. The little room feels much smaller than usual. Like there is something outside pressing against the windows, aching to come in. Maybe it is the noise. It is probably the noise. Tap. Tap. Tap. A thousand, million taps at once. The language of water. And yet, the air inside seems distilled, or about to be so. It is heavy. Hanging, like I wave my hand and feel something heavy. I couldn’t go outside and hated it, I had a change in plan and decided to sit back and watch the rain and its beauty. The rain was as peaceful as the night sky. Time flew by so fast that it was unbelievable. I then heard a knock on the door. I called out of Mrs. Rose as she has instructed me not to open the door and she would do it herself and did not like me getting engaged with a stranger and, also, we rarely have visitors’, Its mostly the newspaper seller or the delivery man. Mrs. Rose did not respond and the person behind the door kept knocking, the rain droplets became louder it was getting extremely creepy, I when in search for her, but she was nowhere to be found it was as if she disappeared into the thin air. I took the courage to open the door myself and saw a dead…..

Please do rate this out of 10 and tell me how u feel abt. it .....part 2 would coming out soon

#creative writing #story

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thatkinkytrashcan · 4 years ago

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Broken Blades

Summary: After a moment of desperate passion between brothers, Vergil falls into the hands of their father's greatest enemy. With his very mind and soul stolen by Mundus, Vergil knows nothing but the want to fulfill his Master's every desire. And to protect their precious son, Nero.

Pairings: Dante/Vergil, Vergil/Mundus, Vergil & Nero, Dante & Nero

Warnings/Tags: Sibling incest, DT sex, knotting, cum inflation, m-preg, Vergil is Nero’s mom, rape/dub-con, mental and emotional manipulation, brainwashing, amnesia and identity issues, forced c-section without anesthesia, child abuse, threat of future sexual violence made to a child, Mundus is a really bad parent, rampant speculation on demon/half-demon biology

(Please let me know if I missed anything you think I should add! I’d rather not surprise anyone with this stuff.)

I.Forging

Dodging Dante's attacks was considerably harder this time around. Vergil teleported back a few steps to avoid the sweeping arc of Cerberus as his brother spun through the air. Dante was off balance because he was frustrated, but his rapid mastering of Devil Trigger more than made up for the shallow openings in his stances. Vergil felt a brief twinge of jealousy at the progress Dante had made in only a single day, reaching a level that had taken him months of careful training and constant combat.

But now they were evenly matched, and Vergil was startled by how much that pleased him. He liked to think that was why he didn't evade Dante's sudden charge.

Vergil grunted when his back hit the wall, but Dante didn't give him any time to recover before his supernaturally sharp teeth sank into his older brother’s shoulder, almost to the bone. The enhanced aggression wasn't a surprise since Vergil had experienced the same delirious haze during his first few transformations. The naked desire in Dante’s burning red eyes was unexpected, however.

"Mine," Dante hissed, hiking Vergil's scaly thighs over his elbows and forcing him to lean into the wall for support. "Mine, mine, mine, mine…"

"Foolish," Vergil replied, but an answering thrum of hunger rolled through him. He hooked his legs around his little brother's waist without even thinking about it, pulling Dante into the soft place within the sanctuary of his thighs. Being beaten, even momentarily, was provoking a need to expose himself that Vergil couldn't quantify.

For all the research and exploration, there were still things about their devil biology that caught him off guard. He knew that submission and dominance was an important part of some demons’ social hierarchies and mating rituals, but he had thought himself above such base inclinations. Apparently he’d been wrong.

He arched in invitation, and Dante didn't disappoint.

His twin surged forward until they were flush against each other, grinding that vulnerable area of their groins together. "So stupid," Dante hissed. "Why can't you just stop all this?"

"You know why," Vergil returned, digging into Dante's back with his claws. The smell of blood was an aphrodisiac, stirring up their lust even further.

"It's just so… stupid."

His head spinning from want, Vergil shifted his heels so they sat under Dante’s ass, giving him a bit more leverage to coax them even closer together. “You never did understand,” he said. But this was no time to lament.

“Vergil, please, I need… I need!” That whine in his brother's voice sounded like begging, and Vergil felt the strangest impression of armored plates shifting and a warm, wet space between his thighs opening in consent.

He hadn't bothered to fuck in this form before, but he had experimented on his own a bit, intrigued by the mutability of devilish bodies. Or at least their devilish bodies; he hadn't taken the time to see if he could force other demons to change their shapes to suit him. Still, he couldn't stop his own flesh from creating a void to welcome Dante's strength into it, and he didn't want to.

A sigh of satisfaction escaped him when Vergil felt something hard and heavy and ridged pushing into him, a slow moving, inevitable force stretching him open until he spread his legs wider to receive it fully. His aching center suddenly needed to be filled by Dante’s massive cock more than he needed air.

With a snap of his hips, his twin was seated deep inside, and Vergil moaned long and low at the sensation. Thick, hot, powerful. The fullness was alien and sublime, like nothing he could hope to experience in his limited human shape. It was completion in its purest form.

"I-I can't…" Dante groaned, struggling to hold himself still.

"Then don't," Vergil said and gasped when Dante withdrew only to slam home again.

Their coupling was frenzied and clumsy, driven by long buried need. Dante tried to kiss him but gave up when it became clear that their Devil Triggers didn't mesh together as elegantly with their mouths as they did elsewhere. He buried his face into Vergil's collarbone instead, but that wasn't what Vergil wanted, so he grabbed Dante's horns and forced his head up.

"Don't look away," he insisted. "I want to see you--!"

His words were broken by the furious thrust that felt like it would push him through the wall at his back. The indecent sounds their bodies made only served to heighten his ardor, leaving Vergil to roll his hips to meet each delicious lunge.

“I love you, dumbass. Why isn’t that enough?” Dante growled. He was still staring up at Vergil thanks to the hands holding his horns in place.

It was. And it wasn’t. Dante’s love had always formed a part of Vergil’s core, and losing him was like having a vital organ torn out. He had spent the intervening years wandering the world with a gaping hole in his heart. All he had cared about was protecting what little he had left: himself.

But then he learned Dante was alive, and he was still trying to recalibrate his soul to account for it. He had no way of making Dante understand just what that meant for him, no safe way to show that raw part of himself that he’d been trying hard to shield for so long.

“Because it’s not,” Vergil answered instead. Because he couldn’t let it be, or every terrible thing he’d done and suffered would have been for nothing.

“Then I’ll make it enough,” Dante said, and Vergil realized he very much wanted him to try.

His claws raked against his little brother’s demonic hide with a clatter, and Dante dug his fingers into the underside of Vergil’s legs to ground them both. An inhuman heat throbbed within Vergil, pistoning into a soft, new place inside him that sparked across his pleasure drenched nerves. It was overwhelming and made more so by the fact it was his beloved twin. Dante’s cock speared him over and over until he could finally stop thinking and just let himself feel.

This… This was right. Whatever their current conflict, they were always meant to be together, to be one. Vergil's body knew this instinctively, he decided, giving him the means to take Dante into himself and join them together. As Dante's motions became erratic, Vergil knew he wanted even more, everything he could get from this fleeting moment.

He tilted his hips and spread his thighs as wide as he could, using his shoulders braced against the wall to push himself rhythmically against his twin. Vergil could feel the broad bulb at the root of Dante's dick thumping against his entrance and instinct demanded he take it all.

The bulb sank part way into his opening, dragging a moan from Dante and sending a spike of frantic lust straight through Vergil's groin. If he didn’t have everything now, he might just lose his mind.

"Vergil, I'm gonna… Shit!" Dante bit him again, on the throat this time, and Vergil purred in delight.

"Do it. I want this," Vergil insisted. And, oh how he did.

Dante shoved forward, and Vergil howled when the knot drove past his edges and fully into him. His body spasmed in devastating pleasure, stealing away anything else he could say in encouragement, but the pulsing of his brother's cock inside him was just as transcendent as he’d known it would be.

He could feel the jets of hot seed, sealed in by Dante's swollen knot that closed any gaps between them, filling him until his stomach rounded slightly. It was a part of his twin, his other half, some of Dante's very life that Vergil accepted as deeply inside as he could manage to gather it. It was the distilled essence of his boundless brother melding with himself.

Vergil lay a hand on his distended belly and let the euphoria of their consummation sweep him away. His eyes fluttered closed, wanting this unity to thrive and grow into something tangible that would bind them permanently because, all too soon, they would be at odds again. No matter Dante's wish that he abandon his quest, Vergil would gain the power he needed to defend himself and everything that he cared for.

He couldn’t live without his brother again.

"Next time..." Dante panted. "Next time you'll be inside me, yeah?"

The glowing eyes searched his face, and Vergil traced clawed fingers along his brother's cheek. He knew what Dante was really asking, why he'd been so desperate in their mating. He'd wanted this to be forever, and Vergil wanted that too even if his brother was incapable of understanding or accepting his methods.

"Next time," Vergil promised. “Next time.”

Next: https://thatkinkytrashcan.tumblr.com/post/631365074601279488/broken-blades-pt-2

#Devil May Cry #Dante/Vergil #Spardacest #Vergil/Mundus #Please read the warnings

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grimelords · 5 years ago

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Hello I finished my July playlist a week ago but when I went to post it tumblr was down, and then I just plumb forgot! Anyway, here it is - properly sequenced this time for a very special listening experience that seamlessly delivers you from disco heaven to black metal hell and everything in between. Also I’m thinking of making these playlists a tinyletter that people can subscribe to that comes out on an actual schedule, rather than me posting them at a random time weeks after they’re finished. Is that something you’d be interested in? Who knows. Check back next month! Anyway, here goes:

listen here

Stay Away From Me - The Sylvers: You know when you’re listening to a song and the sample is super hot but the rest is just ok, so you think to yourself well why don’t I just listen to the original instead? That’s what happened to me with Final Form by Sampa The Great. That song is good but it’s also kind of not doing enough to convince me not to just listen to this super hit by The Sylvers instead. A fun thing with this song is to try to count how many instruments you can hear because it is surprisingly densely arranged for some reason. There’s a xylophone back there going off if you listen.

Sizzlin’ Hot - Paradise: The same thing happened with this song and Sizzlin’ by Daphni. I think they were going for an Armand Van Helden style distillation of the pure essence of the song, sampling the hookiest part and speeding it up and thickening up all the percussion and all that, which can work amazingly but for me it just made me want to hear the original and so I have been all month. What’s so good about being alive now is that in most cases it’s just as easy to access music from 2019 as it is to access music from 1981 where an original copy is apparently going for $1000 on discogs. Every day I thank god for inventing mp3s and putting them on the ark.

Manaos (Canzone) - Fabio Frizzi and Crossbow: I forget how I came across this, I was going through random Fabio Frizzi soundtracks for some reason. I just love the concept of a disco song about escaping from vicious assailants. Funkily singing ‘God help us, if they catch us we all are gonna die.’ as spears fly past you.

Holding On - Julio Bashmore: I think this is one of my favourite pieces of sampling ever. The way the vocals in the background are cut they don’t even sound like vocals. They just a strange contextless textural sound that works so well before eventually revealing itself as vocals in the run before the drop. It’s just so good.

Weight Watchers - Parallel Dance Ensemble: First of all I love this disgusting bass sound. It sounds like two different indistinct bass lines playing at the same time and they both drowned. I’m also mounting a change.org petition to bring back this kind of extremely naff Tone Loc flow, it rocks.

Dance - ESG: I found this incredible band while I was looking for the rapper ESG and I’m so glad I did. Their song UFO is one of those songs that’s been sampled so many times you think of it as more of a sound effect than a song, like it comes preloaded on a drum machine everyone has or something, but it’s also a good template for ESG’s sound. Every ESG song I’ve heard so far goes like this: a straightforward beat that doesn’t change for the whole song, a functional bassline that doesn’t change for the whole song, and good old fashioned simple lyrics about dancing and having a good time that sound more like schoolyard clapping games than anything. It doesn’t sound like much but over the course of an album it adds up to this incredible sort of hypnotic post-punk funk that I cannot get enough of. It sounds like kids who have 1 idea making a whole album out of it because that’s exactly what it is and it’s great!

Crave You - Flight Facilities: I love how elementally simple this song is. The vocals are hypnotising enough so everything else just quietly supports it. The only part that stands out is the thick bass synth halfway through which makes the short sax solo at the and all the sweeter, a tiny little cherry on top.

You - Delta 5: Get a load of this band bio: “Initially inspired by the success of local heroes The Mekons and Gang Of Four, Leeds, England’s Delta 5 later emerged as one of the key figures of the feminist new wave. Formed in 1979 by vocalist/guitarist Julz Sale, fretless bassist Ros Allen and bassist Bethan Peters.” Just going to gloss over them having TWO bass players before they even have a drummer?? Absolutely amazing. I love this song because it’s such a specific, targeted fury. Imagine being the loser at your girlfriend’s gig when she launched into this one for the first time. ‘who’s got homebrew with lots of sediment?’ oh fuck that’s me ‘who took me to the Windham for a big night out?’ oh fuck that’s me ‘I found out about you’ oh FUCK

Siren - Gong Gong Gong: I love the way the bass works in this, just looping and layering different variations of this noisy, stationary riff on top of itself - steadfastly staying in the exact same place the whole song and growing in power the whole time as it sits in its stubbornness.

Changes - Antonio Williams and Kerry McCoy: This came up on my Discover Weekly and I completely fell in love with it, then I realised it’s Antwan and Kerry McCoy from Deafheaven which is extremely intriguing collaboration and fell in love even more. The vocals are so good. The pure broken-hearted anguish, and the super blunt delivery that progresses to straight up yelling by the end of it combined with the Radio Dept type instrumentation is just so powerful. This feels like it’s a song that could really be a life-changing piece of catharsis for everyone in a 5k radius done live.

Fuck A War - Geto Boys: Absolutely in love with the conceit of this song: rapping a whole song down the line to the army drafter. The incredible part being of course that Bushwick Bill would be able to dodge any draft easily, being as he was both a dwarf and blind in one eye.

God Make Me Funky - The Headhunters: I found a lot of great songs going through the samples list for We Can’t Be Stopped by Geto Boys and this is one of them. I have so much love for any song that takes its time like this: nearly two minutes to set the scene and somehow taking deadly seriously the very funny lyrical idea of desperately praying to god to PLEASE make you funky. The way this song escalates is also amazing, moving from a hot groove that sits in place to a full-on saxophone meltdown that feels like god placing his finger on your forehead and saying ‘so you want to be funky, do you?’ in a scary voice.

Use Me - Bill Withers: Fortunately and unfortunately, because of how this song was in Anchorman and because I’ve seen Anchorman one million times I can’t listen to it without hearing the noise Ron Burgundy makes when he sees Veronica in the first few seconds. Anyway, this song is so horny. The part where he has to explain to his bro how good this shit is? Doing all kinds of weird dom shit like ‘getting him in a crowd of high class people and then acting real rude to him?’ Weird. And the escalation into the claps at BABY! is amazing, he’s just going off powered by horniness and god bless him for it.

America! I’m For The Birds - Nicolas Jaar: Unbelievably, the deluxe edition of Sirens is possibly superior to the original. It’s a whole new tracklist, new songs interspersed throughout rather than the usual ‘three new songs at the end’ and it really gives it a whole new feel. This song is my favourite of the new ones and it’s a song I had in my head for a solid week. A perfect song to sing to yourself because the lyrics are so indistinct that you just end up mumbling pleasantly exactly like he is.

Cable Guy - Tierra Whack: I’m finally catching up on Tierra Whack and everyone’s right: she rocks. The sheer restraint in these songs is amazing, they just get in and out with only the good parts and no bullshit. It reminds me a lot of To The Innocent by Thingy which is one of my favourite albums for the same reason - the economy of the songwriting just serves to amplify the feeling of it. They both have this total irreverence in the lyricism where the songs are kind of about nothing but they’re so short and heartfelt that you dig for the feeling underneath it.

No Drug Like Me - Carly Rae Jepsen: I’ve previously written that what I love the most about the Carly Rae Jepsen is how horny it is and I’d like to double down on that sentiment here. I love how slow this song is, it’s the perfect tempo between danceable and ‘fucking’.

Con Calma (Remix) - Daddy Yankee, Katy Perry and Snow: I’ve been on a european holiday for most of this month and I would like to report that across Spain, Portugal, Czech Republic, France and Germany this is the absolute song of the summer. It is completely inescapable and personally I can’t get enough. Informer is one of the greatest and strangest one hit wonders of all time (it’s also canada’s highest selling reggae song of all time and Snow is thusly named because he’s white) and I’m psyched to hear it reworked by Daddy Yankee like this. Katy Perry being on the crossover attempt remix isn’t a good sign for her new album but she kills it so maybe that’s all that matters.

Chase The Devil - Max Romeo and The Upsetters: Here’s the other half of my short lived dub phase from the end of last month. This is a good example also of how completely beguiling lyrics can still be so effective. I have no idea what he means by putting on an iron shirt but it rhymes and he’s saying it with conviction so I’m nodding!

Glass - Bat For Lashes: The new Bat For Lashes songs have got me revisiting Two Suns which is an all time great five star album and this is my favourite song from it. Maybe the most powerful opening track of all time, it does as much worldbuilding as most fantasy novels do in 1000 pages. In fact almost every line in this is a viable fantasy novel title. A Thousand Crystal Towers. The Hand Of The Watchmen. A Knight In Crystal Armour. A Cape Of Rainbow. The way she sings ‘to be made of glass’ is.. incredible. I love Natasha Khan and I cannot wait to see what she does next.

Unsquare Dance - Paddy Milner: In searching spotify for other interpretations of Unsquare Dance after getting obsessed with it last month I came across this absolutely bonkers version. It’s maniacal, it feels like you would be physically and mentally drained by the end playing it because I am just listening to it. Need a little lie down.

Gimme Some Skin, My Friend - The Andrews Sisters: My girlfriend has turned me onto The Andrews Sisters lesser known hits recently and this is the best one: a song from when high fives were a novelty that those wacky blacks over in Harlem town were inventing. Extremely odd but an undeniable banger. The thing about The Andrews Sisters is one of them was an absolute force of nature as a performer and the other two were complete wet blankets and it’s kind of funny they were together as a group for their whole career because anyone with eyes can see where the real star is. The way she sings ‘baby’ at 1:25, and that whole run really, is absolutely amazing and so much better than this extremely dumb song deserves.

Kids On The Run - The Tallest Man On Earth: The piano sound alone in this is just so beautiful. This song could be about anything at all and it would still make me cry, and luckily for me: it basically is!

King Of Spain - The Tallest Man On Earth: Good song I had in my head the whole time I was in Spain. It’s incredible that his voice is so good. It feels like if it was even the tiniest bit different, slightly rougher or tinnier he would be completely hilariously unlistenable but instead he’s amazing. Plus the fact that he leans into it with the purposefully lo-fi trebly production is just so confident you can’t help but love it.

Romeo And Juliet - The Indigo Girls: A great cover I wasn’t aware of before that I heard in this great documentary Wildwood I was watching https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rOWxnh012J0. The way she absolutely flies off the handle and nearly tears the song down around her near the last chorus is pure power and I love people who can do that in an acoustic song without it feeling overblown, just getting totally swept up in it and taking everyone along with you.

On The Bus Mall - The Decemberists: Definitely the number one song about gay teenage prostitutes who love each other and are optimistic against the odds.

White Fire - Angel Olsen: This song feels like a piece of dark magic. It feels like a 4am moment of clarity, speaking everything true in a five minute monotone and then instantly falling back to sleep with only a dim memory in the morning.

Glass Eyes -JW Ridley: JW Ridley is a genius and I cannot wait to see what he does with an album. Every song he puts out seems to be better than his last. The central melody in this is just beautiful, and the whole thing has so much space in it it feels so much longer than 3 minutes. It’s like a song you can live in.

Nullarbor - Floodlights: I love how rough this song is, and driving across australia because you’ve got nothing else going on and want to rattle your own cage is a Huge mood.

Made Too Pretty (Audiotree Live Version) - As Cities Burn: I’m so glad As Cities Burn are back, because it means they get to do good shit like this Audiotree session where they absolutely killed it.

Dirty Hearts - Dallas Crane: I think I’ve put this on a playlist before for exactly the same reason: it’s a song I wake up with in my head fairly often for some reason and it’s a very fun slice of pub rock that doesn’t overstay it’s welcome.

Ruin This Smile - The Number 12 Looks Like You: Did you know The Number 12 Looks Like You have reformed after 10 years away and haven’t missed a step at all?? I’m salivating. This song is as good as anything they’ve put out before, and feels like it fits somewhere between Mongrel and Worse Than Alone which is fantastic news for me who always loved those a lot more than their earlier more explicitly grindcore stuff.

Nutrient Painting - Yellow Eyes: A special thanks to my friend and yours Powerburial for linking this song on his twitter. There’s something about the guitars in this song, in almost every riff, where it sounds like they’re playing backwards somehow. Like the structure of the melodies is backwards. It doesn’t make sense but that’s what it sounds like to me and it’s very disconcerting.

Jejune Stars - Bright Eyes: I think this an underrated Conor Oberst era, when he became a sort of buddhist for a while and wasn’t sad anymore but just observed earth from outer space instead. I also love the instrumentation of this song, Bright Eyes and blast beats a match made in heaven. Also the strange sample about pom’granite at the end is one of my favourite things ever. A very strange album to retire the Bright Eyes name on but a very good one too.

At The Bar - Dirty Three: When I was overseas I was thinking about cultural music, and Australia’s place in the world and things like that. I ended up thinking about Dirty Three who I think along with The Drones make the most distinctly Australian sounding music to me. Just the vastness they manage to conjure from such straightforward barebones instrumentation is incredible.

listen here

#Playlists

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dcvilswifc · 5 years ago

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Hello to everyone new and old! It’s Parrish again, with my queen, my angel, my bean, my teenage hair role model, and the sole reason in life i wanted those meshy fingerless glove things when I was about 14, Eleanor Lovett.

If you want to plot/have ideas/just wanna meme and chat, my discord is

forever done#1102

工

Dear Albert was an amazing husband, giving Nellie the desires of her heart, and spending his money to foster her interests in baking, distilling alcohol, owning a business that made people happy. Mrs. Lovett’s Meat Pie Emporium was a dream come to life, but the desires of life couldn’t replace to desire to have a husband that doted in more ways than with his money (despite how much she desired a lavish lifestyle). Unfortunately, Albert wouldn’t last long anyway. There was an accident with his morning tea. Fully unbeknownst to Eleanor, somehow, arsenic had slipped it’s way in. She was left with nothing to remember him by but her shop and a picture of him hanging in the front of it.

工工

Benjamin Barker– the name alone is enough to send her into a fit of girlish shudders. She’d always been fond of him, and somehow, when Benjamin Barker became Sweeney Todd, the fondness remained, and grew ever-stronger. Despite his cold exterior, she would do anything for the man, going as far as disposing of his victims for him in the strangest of ways. In any case, the ghouls of Halloween Town always needed more food to eat. She considers what the two of them are doing to be a service to this seasonal realm in particular, and, if it catches Mr. Todd’s attentions or affections, she’s even more proud to do what she is doing.

工工工

Despite having most, if not all of what she’d ever dreamed of in her immortal lifetime, she still finds herself lacking in one thing. Eleanor Lovett had always longed to be a mother. She’d always longed to have someone to take care of, to call her own, to protect, and for someone to look at her and call her mom. With so much love to give, and few people to give it to, she tends to latch on to people, mothering them, caring for them, taking them in from the cold, dark streets of Halloween Town, and offering them a meal when they look too hungry to stand. Her line of work isn’t the most savory of ideas, but her dead heart is full of too much compassion, and she longs to give it.

工∨

She’s never been fond of the streets of the seasonal realms, and has always stared with wide eyes at photos of the shore. One day, once she’s sure her business has taken off, and she’s secured enough in her funds, it’s her next dream to move away to the seaside– perhaps Marna– with Mr. Todd, and maybe even someone to call her own, someone to be a mother to, someone who she knows will love her unconditionally, and want to be with her all the same as she wants them with herself. There is a picturesque scene in her head. It’s one she dreams about at night. It’s what she strives towards. It’s the one thing she wants to attain, if she can ever convince Mr. Todd to come along with her for more than a short trip.

∨

Though she is a caretaker by nature, she has a vindictive side, and if you wrong her, she will surely wrong you back, but in a one-up. If you have something she wants, she won’t hesitate to find a way to take it from you. She’ll use any means, and she has few qualms about what those means will end up doing to a person. The same thing goes for if you harm someone she cares about. She is a protector, and if you speak ill of someone important to her, especially Sweeney Todd, she will snap right back. She is a lover first, of course. Not a fighter, but that doesn’t mean that given the opportune situation, she won’t be the one slitting the throats for once.

#tales.intro

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acsversace-news · 6 years ago

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09. THE ASSASSINATION OF GIANNI VERSACE

Showrunner(s): Ryan Murphy

Where to Watch: FX

MVP of the Show: After stealing the screen on Glee, Darren Criss had been noticeably absent from most of Ryan Murphy’s ensuing productions, what with the exception of two episodes on American Horror Story: Hotel. Now we know that Murphy was simply saving the best for later, seeing how Criss’ role as real-life serial killer Andrew Cunanan is the type of career-changing opportunity that any young star might salivate over. The drooling’s mutual, though, as one of the strangest feelings all year long was being both charmed and terrified by Criss on a weekly basis. No doubt influenced by the sordid, hot stuff protagonists of any given Bret Easton Ellis novel, Criss exudes a deadly, charismatic energy that legitimizes the series, saving it from being another maudlin exercise from Murphy. Even when the show sags, and it does, Criss never slouches.

Must-See Episode: One of the draws of Versace is the way in which Murphy and writer Tom Rob Smith ably paint perspectives. It would have been so easy to simply follow the footsteps of Cunanan — and we probably wouldn’t have opposed, given Criss’ performance — but they didn’t. Instead, like the first season of American Crime Story, the action pivots between its revolving door of supporting characters, which winds up providing weight for many of the themes this series dances around. The best example of this is in the season’s fifth episode, “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell”, where the focus isn’t even on Versace or the murders, but on the affairs of U.S. Navy lieutenant Jeff Trail (Finn Wittrock). It’s a surprisingly patient meditation on the titular policy and its harrowing effect on Trail’s life, whose death is made even more tragic given the in-depth context.

Why We Binge: Stylish, sensual, and curiously affecting, The Assassination of Gianni Versace is a genuine statement from Murphy. On the surface, it’s a total distillation of the veteran producer’s worst tendencies — his hit-or-miss brand of melodrama, his ensemble of larger-than-life caricatures, and his manic, sweeping gesticulations at cultural commentary — but there’s a surprising depth to the glitz and the glam. That depth is drawn though the eyes of Cunanan, who serves as a deadly window into a thriving scene hampered by society around it. It’s a tricky line Murphy toes, and one that hasn’t been without its share of controversy, but he comes out on top, delivering a lavish and sobering portrait of queer culture, not just for yesterday, but today. In hindsight, it was something of a prologue to his next block of historical television in Pose. –Michael Roffman

#acs versace #consequence of sound #article #darren criss #2.05 #review #december 2018

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bandstolookup · 3 years ago

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tumbleweed jones

chris rayburn

v don

james brown and the famous flames

paul martin

the eyes

the moment

the mannequins

the pepper pots

berry tweed and the chasers

from the jam

the ganders

the sha la la's

the broken vinyl club

the distillers

mayfield

serpent power

julian cope psychedelic odin

gideon

sharon tandy

planet

the spencer davis group

syd barrett

inez & charlie foxx

the truth

iron butterfly

back to zero

lalo schifrin

quincy jones

booker t & the mgs

crystal jacqueline

fit for a king

sworn in

hands like houses

the cream of rare soul

the action

frootful

mark murphy

graham day and the forefathers

paul weller

crown of thornz

the jeevas

new hearts

crispian mills & the jeevas

buried treasure

purple hearts

school of braja

the artwoods

eddie holman

operation two folds

king new breed

the magnolias

gemma & the travelers

ian page and the affair

bobby guy

ray charles

mel williams

the chords

the lambrettas

the velvet hammer

carrie cleveland

anthony meynell

mark mortimer

the greyhound all stars

mick talbot is agent 33

johns children

rod stewart

misty woods

sta-prest

eleanor rigby

lord shani

gabor szabo

elgin

faces

palisades

buried giants

issues

capture

the color morale

no warning

velena

i see stars

for all those sleeping

amanda palmer

alexisonfire

comeback kid

the word alive

jamestown story

serpico

her bright skies

the circle jerks

sick of it all

citizen

mudhoney

agent orange

primus

the casualties

the Jesus and mary chain

hey monday

max frost

badbone

common enemy

whohurtyou

ameliamoon

GOA

soul butchers

pink guitars

facility men

healer

charit way

sara elizabeth

tokyo monsters

the morning light

motherfist

near miss

nipdrivers

the outline

red fish

rock kills kid

RPM

so they say

sparks the rescue

straight faced

sugarcult

superman please don't

the starting line

the white noise

rare earth

white caps

5 am

6 dogs

kassi ashton

jacob banks

bas

boogie

celeste

cloves

jon connor

cozz

jay critch

cuco

daya

drama relax

dimelo flow

homesafe

kayak jones

young culture

keep flying

voices in vain

pure heel

dreezy

earthgang

gryffin

JID

jamie n commons

jax jones

joey t

jay rock

JAWNY

leven kali

ari lennox

lil durk

lil mosey

lil poppa

main breaker

chronic failure

failure

county kings

gopnik

flood the tower

desolate

loser

tempus fugit

karma

super-tugger

brixton sons

joe bonamassa

the viva noir

bighorn sheep

the gypsy parlor

surftones

kanuton

dotson moon

night slaves

black & white cat black & white cake

coffin hook

westward journey

eerie shores

speed dial

grandfather clock!

jenn desantis

eleni degeorge

conquer divide

slaves

phinehas

old again

which witch

will haven

sirens and sailors

insoluble

michael delano

sardine

yellow sauce

bud redding

for your health

splundr

frail body

alleys

jungle tooth

lemondrop

rad ops

breakfast for dinner

fluse

heave

sidney jeanne

blunted lip

grizzly run

inertia

outlast

ashes

chronic nostalgics

orange grove ave

ian mccuen

yali

mike turnwall

cardboard homestead

nicotine jones

crystal godzilla

the surfin cadavers

wicker men

no warning

mindforce

trail of lies

apocalypse tribe

regulate

one step closer

wild side

restraining order

facewreck

choice to make

stand alone

last dance

world of love

dredneks

scarecrow show

on the cinder

shortcakke

yvngyanna

antikathleen

saucetheartist

p3p3

nicky vibez

jupiter trolley

the gennies

regular sex

velvet bethany

the dead south

legendary shack shakers

danny olliver

tsunami tsurprise

wyndup kid

cheap peach

pkew pkew pkew

shambles

bastard bastard bastard

hold out

tooth

this

type relevant

best sleep

ghostpool

ashford

dan meissner

why not

black sabbitch

the impurity

tony rocky horror

advance base

the painfully alone

ex-pat

sinai vessel

vulcan

the last reign

debrained

overlook

a silent ending

sedai

tina panic noise

the clever slang

online.dating

aukscab

PiL

toy box brigade

millington

the serftones

the dead star band

brendan

the strangest ways

the big lonesome

bobby and the love

nuke fun

alien static

midnight anomalies

mirror tricks

hubcap

sheridan

96 bitter beings

the native howl

locust grove

the living braindead

pieces

14 trapdoors

skate cobain

night mall

makeout tactics

tortoise forest

grosh

gunthers radio

citrus maxima

hydrone

dragged under

forget the sorrows

reapr

farewell jupiter

soma slumber

x-press 2

soular plexus

earth rider

johnny revolting

lay down & die

poindexter

the ay effs

short fictions

worst things

closure.

rabbit jaw

jurassic clark

book a boulder

rust belt brigade

no cover

cody barcroft

shannon vanderlaan

kerry fey

luis mojica

leyda

jq bess

michael cirrito

jammin jesse

the abruptors

kman and the 45s

working class stiffs

worn from war

timothy alice

the grumpy monkey company

vee da bee

amber martin

brittany rose

adapt or die

yanart

phasm

masscasualty

of desolation

weaponex

the cryptics

zquint

obsoleete

moonscar

olmsted

not 4 nothing

a very special episode

ekohta

we were blank

mind chaser

casper skulls

some ska band

the drew thompson foundation

the mars volta

grilth

thrush

digital afterlife

of night & light

creating a sinner

AC anton

lexxi raine

dope city kid

lost like lions

blackend blue

digital ladies

eyes of the blind

tiger the lion

bear the bronze

assemble

the toasters

the same sun

soulfly

toxic holocaust

sergio michel

x method

anthropic

wasted space

philip stephen

stress dolls

the nigh

sun pilot

patternist

the weather might say otherwise

robin bank$ and the new spectacular

nine layers deep

smitten for trash

nylon otter

respect the space

night goat

sons of luther

no time to think

jaali cypher

amateur hockey club

partners on shanley

sheer terror

wrong the oppressor

downswing

brook pridemore

lich king

the barksdales

lucky 33

the clockers

paper plates collective

tri state area

flower ambrosia

slimm

nerds in denial

over & out

jenn desantis

astrabula

real movement

james kibby

silent planet

currents

invent, animate

greyhaven

fucked & bound

haunted horses

passed out

candy ambulance

i met a yeti

yung dialysis

serfs

parade chic

take two

ray and the roaches

adjacent jason

motives

avoid

vit fana

ville

kaj

josef

dj juku

smug

west ferry

glen pine

wake up

otherworldly entity

the slackers

todd hembrook

deal's gone bad

afterlife

time toad

tom foolery and the shenanigans

boundaries

tyler okun

dead prez

oscar welsh

between friends

sonic fuzz

flamingo haze

daily basis

suburban living

2morrows june

the social act

anti cimex

alwz snny

javen oliver

savage hands

sleepers

wild side

chris grey

KTA boys

young nudy

lil spleen

utah saints

carry on cupid

kai shaw

andre lauren benjamin

jack wild

NLE choppa

daysormay

lil thirteen

into the wake

bear no shame

yonaka

a rocket to the moon

NPK

animal chin

ann beretta

august premier

autopilot off

keyes

blueline medic

cadillac blindside

chef'special

days away

discount

animal sun

common vision

rutterkin

kurt morton

forgive durden

foundation

frodus

letlive.

miracle at st anna

anaal nathrakh

the morning of

nevada rose

ghost town

jersey

kane hodder

kidding chaos

lifetime

limp

mid carson july

october fall

oh honey

phantom planet

pollen

powerspace

punchline

recover

rome

roy

midnight

slick shoes

slowreader

swank

teen idols

the a.k.a.s

the aeffect

the cab

the causey way

til tuesday

the friday night boys

the hippos

voiceplay

the hush sound

the impossibles

the pietasters

the stereo

big sean

this providence

will connolly

versaemerge

whippersnapper

the four freshmen

niights

the northern

stephen lynch

e^st

anthropomorphiA

utah noir

bob moulde

nerdout

NIVIRO

will roland

the nicholas

san holo

ocean wisdom

7ru7h

b'royce

juando

FABV

skan

jody

gage moyers

jackzick

shayne dupont

naked eyes

voices in your head

don diablo

celldweller

james dooley

dennis leary

onra

rixton

esham

elijah blake

zeni n

maurice west

madrio

a will away

northern ghosts

outlands

adjy

caspian

arch/matheos

pathways

covet

dogleg

fireworks

foxing

free throw

from indian lakes

future teens

heart attack man

holy fawn

into it over it

moving mountains

o'brother

shortly

smidley

weatherbox

junket

you blew it

oso oso

anterrabae

as tall as lions

brian bonz

death threat

fight fair

folly

hit the lights

honor bright

hot rod circuit

kevin devine

lux courageous

no redeeming social value

northstar

orange island

outsmarting simon

plugin stereo

scraps & heart attacks

small towns burn a little slower

the color fred

the dear hunter

the gay blades

the receiving end of sirens

tony hendrik

john mcinerney

marcus mouya

blue stahli

white shag

K'NAAN

YBC bam

OG stevo

rudeboykels

china mac

dexter freebish

stretch and bobbito

ARVFZ

lpcharm

lyriel

noodah05

blackjesus yoshua

soudiere

jacob Sutherland

riverside

kahme.wav

arielle

vikram dhakal

chris standring

liam wheeler

diamond saints

xavier alexsandria

simiram

the secret sisters

MC900

neoplasma

aia litt

oui lele

brian nhira

lockdown

tre'gadd

nacho picasso

albastyeeler

the morning

sol d' menta

floerk

BeGela

dom kane

marcy x

jeddy hart

hatem a

samtozi

dr john

nøisily

masio gunz

noods

redrum

weemane

704chop

tom jarmey

j4 krazy

trevor taylor

the secret handshake

roseview

cirith ungol

eppers

james flamez

bacota

susan salidor

herm

n.o.h.

pat godwin

the empty pockets

stacey q

DIGVIJAY

yung q

none of us

alix j

brandon christian

matthew larkin

dreadboxx

ickly

hioll

sketchthaheathen

xadrian

mrmeow

earth trance projector

trace

fallen

the pricks

the kan

jdan

marlo

the yellow pumpkin

jonny english

the lava boy

dario nunez

elements of style

bouhi

flowerboh

manic movement

hot boys crew

sasha primitive

imminent the strategic...

al jourgensen

lejonhjärta

carrington right

bottlefight

voices experiment

sir-ooh-g

tray day sadd

rappa nui

hendrix garcia

breaking the static

das butterschnitzel

sven wittekind

mr j

jack alien

noisebass

yung saadi

stan green

wilson quick

el paso

skycrater

black door

roger gunn

jayms

make mama proud

wrecked religion

marz

thoweda rosas

tinimaine

patryck

awkward L looper

redx

outbreak

airsh4d3

crucified priest

smiley loks

sumo brix

death plus

allen w brown

black therapy

2 official

in flagranti

black v neck

twyn t

marc vedo

mila falls

breaking pangea

kamo

yattaman

faux paz

bford

itgang simmie

cudiiiies

blaze

the resolute

young will

sickboii

dranX

street corner talking

CCD

y-milo

evilone

daniel richards

marek stelmach

full frontal lobotomy

danny mcmaster

stephen kramer glickman

crucifix

bad boys blue

chyp-notic

a la carte

haddaway

soultans

andreas martin

londonbeat

wolfgang petry

ute berling

minnesota

donny brooke

goons of doom

fuck on the beach

presley river

the lenores

armored saint

artillery

the edwin davids jazz band

below

bynzantine

batushka

candiria

charred walls of the damned

cult of luna

save us from the archon

secret eyes

set sights

cut up

destrage

endseeker

siren and sailors

sky eats airplane

eyes of the sun

denner/shermann

downfall of gaia

ensiferum

execration

falconer

gozu

harlott

exumer

god dethroned

entrails

desaster

harms way

hate

if these trees could talk

igorrr

ketzer

king diamond

kissin' dynamite

LIK

lizzy borden

daniel rodriguez

mercyful fate

midnight

monte pittman

mother feather

motor sister

necromancing the stone

nothgard

the ocean

oni

portrait

primordial

RAM

ravencult

redemption

sacred reich

revocation

satan

rivers of nihil

serpentine dominion

shai hulud

sorcerer

tanith

tribulation

visigoth

vulture

twitching tongues

tombs

six feet under

syberia

tribal (swe)

Týr

wovenwar

40 grit

a love ends suicide

abiotic

aeon

ancient

apophys

angel blake

saul

aeternam

the absence

arma gathas

assaulter

barn burner

battlecross

across the sun

anacrusis

anima

the arcane order

as you drown

autumn

believer

beyond the sixth seal

blood divisions

born from pain

brimstone coven

cancer bats

cellador

coal chamber

beyond the embrace

bison b.c.

bloodclot

brian still

broken hope

cataract

the cory smoot experiment

beyond the shore

bitch

bludgeon

brainstorm

callenish circle

catastrophic

chinchilla

crimfall

criminal

cripper

crisis

culture killer

D.R.I.

darkness dynamite

dave brockie experience

daysend

DC4

the devils blood

devildriver

dictated

don jamieson

eidolon

the crimson armada

cryptic slaughter

darkest era

get scared

glasseater

steve wilkins

glue gun

gob

grabbers

dawn of ashes

demiricous

diabulus in musica

disillusion

engine

epicurean

the fallen

fleshcrawl

forever in terror

eryn non dae.

fleshwrought

fragments of unbecoming

fueled by fire

galactic cowboys

glorior belli

grave pleasures

the great discord

gypsyhawk

hail of bullets

evergreen terrace

fate

flotsam and jetsam

frazetta

gehennah

gorerotted

gristle

hallows eve

hatchet

helstar

immolation

in extremo

hate eternal

impious

house of heavy

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houseofvans · 7 years ago

Photo

SKETCHY BEHAVIORS | Interview w/ STACEY ROZICH (LA)

From animal mask wearing people sifting through antiques to creepy mascots being arrested by equally creepy looking officers, Los Angeles based artist Stacey Rozich’s watercolor works are all things awesome. Strange, familiar, dark, humorous, and pleasantly eerie at times, Rozich’s paintings, while done in the style of folk traditional painting, are filtered through her own lens of modern pop culture. With some upcoming shows in the New Year–a group show at New Image in LA in February and a two-person show at Portland’s Talon Gallery in September–we couldn’t wait to chat with Stacey Rozich about her early experiences with drawing, her collaboration with Subpop Records, and her sketchiest story involving loud raucous metal heads and a little out-of-the-way saloon in Malibu in this latest Sketchy Behaviors.

Photographs courtesy of the artist | Portrait by Kyle Johnson

Tell us a little about yourself. My name is Stacey Rozich, or Stace, Stace Ghost, etc. I’m from Seattle, but I now live in Los Angeles. I’ve been painting in watercolor for the past twelves years, and drawing before that since forever. I sometimes do large scale versions of my work as acrylic murals, which is something I stumbled into. I dig painting in the folk tradition, but through my own lens of modern pop culture, and way too much tv watching as a kid. Seriously, I was an insomniac in middle school and for some reason my parents gave me a tv in my room, so I stayed up all night watching VH1 Pop-Up Video and Adult Swim (circa late 90’s). I have an almost encyclopedic knowledge of The Simpsons seasons 3 - 8 — I used to recite monologues from the show to my family when I was a kid. And I still do!

What was your first experience with art / drawing? And who were some of your early artistic influences? In Kindergarten I drew a many-legged leopard in the forest with crayons and I got a lot of praise for it from the other kids and the teacher. I felt a combination of pride and complete embarrassment for the attention I got for something I created without thinking. My earliest artistic influence was probably Sailor Moon. I wish I could say I was one of those really smart arty kids that loved Picasso, but honestly I wasn’t that aware of what “real art” was until later in pre teenhood. The flashy colors and character designs of Sailor Moon were so exciting for me! Even the lush watercolor backgrounds captivated me. I liked drawing people then so the outrageous proportions of the girls was something I could mimic in my own drawings.

Some of our favorite aspects of your work is your use of gouache and watercolors. Can you share with folks what it is about this particular medium you enjoy so much? I absolutely love watercolor, and truthfully I don’t use gouache that much to consider myself proficient in it since it’s a slightly more opaque medium and I use it for accents. Especially the fluorescent gouaches I picked up in Tokyo, those against my watercolors pop nicely. But watercolor, yeah, I think I have that one in the bag. I remember using it in high school and absolutely loathing it — where was the control? One wrong move and it all just blended together into one big wet puddle. When I was a freshman at CCA (California College of the Arts in San Francisco) I took an intro Illustration class and the first thing our professor did was give us a watercolor demo; I was not looking forward to it. He was such a wizard with it! He gave us really smart instructions to not use very much water, and really “charge up the brush” with the pigments and paint it in and let it dry fully. That way edges of the paint have dried and created a barrier for the next application of color next to it. That’s why the barrier for entry with watercolor can seem too high, when it gets too slippery to work with there’s an overuse of water. I got that suddenly and it all clicked. Since i grew up drawing habitually I liked that I could use a very small brush and almost draw with watercolor, and large brushes to fill in certain planes with tonal washes. I like that I can wipe and dab away little pools of color and it creates a nice stained glass effect — that looks really lovely against a matte layer of watercolor that I’ve used extremely little water with.

Are there other mediums you’d like to try in the future? In the future I would really like to start painting portraits of people in my life. Like, Alice Neel style portraits in oil. Oil intimidates me greatly so I think I’d start in acrylic.

What’s a day in the studio for you like? I get to my studio around 10am since I’m not a very early riser, unfortunately. I so envy early morning people! One of my girlfriends who’s an incredible textile artist is up and at ‘em and hiking in Griffith Park by 6am. And there I am under the covers with a cat on stomach looking at her Instagramed hike thinking “Some day that will be me” — I like to lie to myself. Anyway! Once I roll into my studio I settle in to write some e-mails, putz around the Interwebs, and then get down to the task at hand. It’s usually 11 around this time so I’m usually really chugging along by 3, and then I’ll keep going for a few more hours. If it’s a painting for a commission or gallery show I tend to spread my timeline out so I don’t get burned out. If it’s a commercial gig there’s a lot more scanning, Photoshop clipping out and editing which can take me later into the evening.

What’s that process like? My process always starts with loose sketches on paper, which can mean in a sketchbook or whatever blank piece is lying closest to me. I work out compositions with really doodly lines — they’re virtually unintelligible but I know what they mean. When I move to the final I mostly wing it when it comes to the color palette. If anyone has ever seen my watercolor palette they know it’s a goddang mess which works for me. I usually work with whatever shades I’ve pre mixed and let dry in the pan.

You’ve worked with various clients and companies over the years. Do you enjoy collaborating and what do you find the most challenging about it? I do like working commercially, the collaboration with art directors can be incredibly rewarding. Though there are times it becomes a slog when you’ve created about four or five killer rough ideas and they go with the weakest one. Why does that always happen? You have to do what they say essentially, but still keep your voice even when it feels a little pinched.

In 2015, you collaborated with Subpop Records on some amazing record art and design? Can you tell us a little about that collaboration and process? Subpop is one of my favorite labels to work with hands down. Their art director Sasha Barr is such a boss. I was really lucky when I was working on the Father John Misty album that I got to create the art and not worry about the editing process. I sent it up to them since they had access to a gigantic scanner to get a full high-resolution image. It meant a lot that I was able to do the art as an actual full scale piece, as opposed to broken up to little scraps and then scanned on my wee little ancient scanner. Sasha did all the leg work to clip out the whole thing and to figure out how to stage the multi-layered pop-up interior gatefold. Usually when I work with smaller clients they ask me to do all this which is…not a good idea. Ultimately that album packaging was nominated for a Grammy in Packaging Design in 2016, but we lost out to Jack White because of course. Damn you, Jack White!

What WOULD BE your ideal collaboration? I would like to work with a great publishing house to do my own young adult series. Basically all the characters and worlds I’ve been painting distilled down into a serialized art book/graphic novel type thing. That’s a big dream of mine that swings from feeling so possible and exhilarating and then feeling completely futile because everyone has the worst things to say about the state of publishing right now. I still have hope that someday I’ll get it together to at least put forward a proposal.

On a different level I’ve love to design some patterns for Gucci. I’m not really up on the latest collections of luxury brands but Gucci is one I’ve noticed has been doing a fantastic job incorporating illustrations into their garments either as accents or printed motifs. The uniqueness of the artwork coupled with excellent hand done detailing makes my brain feel fuzzy in a really good way.

What type of music do you listen to when creating? Can you give us the top 5 bands you’ve been checking out? I waffle back and forth between music and a lot of podcasts. For the times when I can’t listen to anyone talk anymore, I listen to Jim James, Solange, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Shabazz Palaces. I just started listening to Andy Shauf’s new album which is lovely, it reminds me a bit of Harry Nillson. Also there’s a great massive playlist on Spotify called Twin Peaks Vibes that is excellent.

What’s your strangest or sketchiest art story that you want to share? I was eating lunch with some friends at this little out-of-the-way saloon in a canyon east of Malibu after a hike a few months ago. It’s pretty isolated down there — they’ve been using this place for filming Westerns since the 30’s so it’s a very specific strange and cool gem. I was sitting at the bar and these bros come in, being loud and raucous. I kind of internally rolled my eyes at them and ignored them. I hear one of them say “Excuse me — are you Stacey Rozich?” I got scared for a moment because anytime someone recognizes me by name I feel like I’m going to get into some trouble. I told him I was, and then he and his friends got very excited since they all were huge Southern Lord fans, and loved the album artwork I did years ago for the band Earth. I was really surprised (and relieved) and we had a good chat! It was a very unexpected encounter down at this little far away rustic saloon.

What’s a common misconception about artists? Perhaps that we’re all lazy. That we don’t have a good work ethic since what we do is hard for most people to wrap their brain around. It’s a completely unconventional path to go down, and you have to be extremely dedicated to it. Yet somehow this doesn’t quite translate to most folks since it seems like basing your life and career on an unknown pursuit like art seems insane. And there’s an idea that artists have a lot of free time to spend laying around waiting for inspiration to strike.

What’s been the biggest challenge for you as an artist? The largest challenge for me, honestly is: myself. I’ve been working solely on my artwork for the past six years and it’s been full of a lot of ups and downs: emotionally and financially for sure. There’s always a feeling of not being good enough, why aren’t I as good as this or that artist, why aren’t I doing X, Y or Z. Don’t get me wrong, I am proud of myself for what I have accomplished but I need to remind myself of that before I go down a spiral of anxiety. It comes from a fear of rejection which can prevent me from pursuing things, submitting a proposal for the aforementioned young adult series for example. Sometimes I need to remind myself to get out of my head and to get out of my own way.

What do you think you’d be doing if you weren’t an artist? I’d probably be in finance, on Wall Street most likely. Kidding! I think about this sometimes. Being someone who creates has always been so tightly wrapped up in who I am as a person that it’s hard to extract myself from what I would be without. I would hope I would do something in Slavic studies. My dad’s side is Croatian (by way of Detroit) and while that’s been a huge inspiration for my artwork I’ve always been really fascinated with that region’s history of conflict and resilience. When I spent six weeks there back in 2012 it only deepened my love for that place and also my curiosity for what makes it tick.

What are your favorite Vans? A pair of beat up, worn in, maybe a couple of holes at the toe blue or red Authentics. A true classic.

What’s a question you never get asked in an interview and would like to ask and answer yourself? It would be, ‘If there was one person living or dead who you wished owned or could have owned your art — who would it be?’ To which I would say that’s such a hard question there’s so many people I admire! But as of this moment I think it would be rad if David Lynch had some of my art. I love his unstructured style of storytelling, all the loops and the sometimes frustrating dead ends his narrative world has. The effect of creating an unusual if not downright confusing vignette just for the sake of it reminds me of how I approach the storylines in my work.

What cool and interesting projects or shows that you’re working on - should folks keep an eye out for next year? Since it’s the end of the year things are usually pretty quiet in terms of projects, but I’m in a group show in conjunction with Luke Pelletier’s solo show at New Image here in LA in February. I’m scheduled for a two-person show at Portland’s Talon Gallery in September and! Hopefully, if it all aligns, I’ll be headed Internationally to do some muraling. I’m stoked for it!

FOLLOW STACEY | Instagram | Website

#Art #Vans #Vans Art #Stacey Rozich #SKETCHY BEHAVIORS #female artist #vans girls #painting #gouache #watercolor

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