#coral bangle

[portrait-paintings]

Lady Elizabeth Pope

Artist: Attributed to Robert Peake (English, 1551–1619)

Date: c. 1615

Medium: Oil paint on wood

Collection: TATE Britain

Portrait of Lady Elizabeth Pope

Elizabeth Pope was the daughter of Sir Thomas Watson. He was a prominent investor in the Virginia Company, which ran the English colony of Virginia in North America. Elizabeth might be depicted as a personification of America. First Nation people in America were often portrayed in masques wearing ostrich feathers and clothes with pearls, hence the feather in her turban and the pearls in ostrich feather design on her dress. The pearls and her coral bracelet might also allude to the riches of the American seas. Pearls symbolise purity and were associated with Elizabeth I, the Virgin Queen, after whom Virginia was named.

Elizabeth Watson, an heiress, married Sir William Pope of Wroxton (1596-1624) on 13 December 1615, and it is thought that her portrait may have been painted in connection with this event. She is depicted beneath a laurel tree, with a landscape beyond, and wears a classical mantle of black fabric embroidered with pearls in an ostrich-feather pattern; this pattern is repeated on her hat, which is trimmed with a real purple feather. She has a pearl choker, strings of pearls round her right wrist and a coral bangle round her left. Her chest is bared, with a heavy diamond necklace laid across it, and her left breast is almost exposed. Her long hair hangs down, loose except for a single braid above her arm. This was a contemporary symbol of virginity and brides sometimes wore their hair down thus - one high-profile example being Princess Elizabeth (1596-1662) the future 'Winter Queen', at her marriage on St Valentine's Day (14 February) in London in 1613 (see Robert Rait, Five Stuart Princesses, London 1902, p.75).

[sochicfinds]

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[hezzabeth]

Revati knew, as she walked back to Baker Street, that once again she was on the edge of things.

Revati could barely remember the first edge she encountered, four years old and holding a balloon while drones flew above.

The second edge, seeing her father’s twitching hand under the rubble.

And now, Amma standing in the doorway with Dusk.

Her arms were folded, and she glared when she realized Camilo was with them.

"Hello, Camilo," Amma remarked.

"Sugafanna! I haven’t seen you since…" he began.

"Jay’s last birthday; you drank too much of your honeymede and threw up on the walls," Amma pointed out.

"Ah, yes," Camilo blushed with embarrassment.

"And I suppose you’re here to help Revati with this insanity?" Sugafana asked coldly.

"Is saving the ones we love really that insane?" Camilo asked Sugafana, who sighed, rolling her eyes.

"I’m going to the station now, Amma; where’s Nanni?" Revati asked.

"I’m right here, Dimpy," Nanni said from behind mother.

"Don’t die while I’m gone; you’ve lasted eighty years. You can last a little longer," Revati said firmly.

Nanni pulled her down, kissing her forehead, and then draped something around Revati’s neck.

It was her precious Kasithaali, a gold chain dotted with gold and coral beads.

In the center of the chain, there was a tiny golden idol, its features finely carved.

The Kasithaali was ancient, trailing far back to the first Sheik born on Mars.

The coral beads had been picked from a long-ago dead and abandoned Earth.

"Nanni, you know I can’t take this! Raiders will try to steal it," Revati pointed out.

"Hide it down the front of your clothes! You will need Lakshmi’s protection," Nanni said firmly.

"You will also need this," Amma replied, sliding off one of her bangles.

"Why are you both giving me wedding jewelry? I’m going on a rescue mission; I’m not getting married," Revati asked as Amma slid the bangle onto Revati’s wrist.

Amma tapped the bracelet four times, and it suddenly glowed a faint purple.

"DNA approved user confirmed, current balance nine thousand six hundred and eighty-three credits," the bracelet chimed.

"It’s not a bracelet; it’s my portable bank account! You’re not going to go out into the world with no funds," Amma said as Revati stared at the glowing numbers.

"Is this a lot of money?" She asked curiously.

"It’s enough. Now here’s everything else you asked for... including your sister's hairbrush," Amma asked, handing Revati a bag, and Revati nodded.

"Good, well, I best be off then," Revati said, and Amma nodded.

Revati realized it was probably time to say something else.

"I love you both," she added before reaching forward to embrace Amma.

Revati firmly believed in only hugging on her terms.

Still, Amma deserved it.

It took a moment to realize that Brigadeiro Bun was politely following her and Camilo.

"Why are you trailing behind me?" Revati had to ask.

"He's following you as well, as well as what I suspect is the android wearing a cloak," Brigadeiro pointed out.

"I need Camilo to help me at the train station," Revati replied as they reached the maze's entrance.

"I’m pretty sure I can turn the train on for one ride; I salvaged a power cell from the dragon," Camilo explained.

"Well, I’m following you because you’ll need my tent if you want to survive the elements," Brigadeiro replied.

"You got your tent back, then?" Revati asked as they entered the maze.

In the distance, Revati could hear someone giggle among the leaves.

"Yes, Isabeau found it in the lost property pile," Brigadeiro replied.

"And you’re going to give me your tent?" Revati asked.

"I’m going to share it with you; it’s a two-person tent! My ex and I were supposed to travel together, but we broke up," Brigadeiro said with a small shrug.

"You don’t seem that upset about it," Revati pointed out as they turned a corner.

The giggling was coming from two small children in medical dress fighting with sticks.

"I was; then I went out to find diamond roses for her, and everything else happened," Brigadeiro admitted.

"So you’re going to travel with me for an indefinite amount of time? Finding my sister plus take weeks or months," Revati said as they turned right.

"Or years; when appliances want to hide things, they stay hidden," Camilo pointed out.

"Well, I’ll stay with you until we reach a public teleportation station; then you can keep the tent," Brigadeiro said, and Revati shrugged.

"Fine, that’s a fair exchange for saving your life twice," she admitted.

The maze suddenly opened up onto the grand entrance of Olde Landon.

The ticket booths, in the shape of castle turrets, had long ago been abandoned.

The giant Elizabeth Twin statue was covered in gently glowing fungus.

Revati stared at them briefly.

One of the queens was in a grand solid carved ballgown.

The other in a neat suit and hat.

Both of them had lizard faces.

"We have the exact same statue on the South West Sydney Space station; apparently, the lizard faces allowed the queens to live for centuries," Brigadeiro remarked.

"That was just a myth; come on this way," Camilo replied.

The park bullet train ran from the park to Leeryasoar, the country's capital. Years ago, the station teemed with tourists. Feet would pound over the shiny tiles, the exact same gold and purple as the domed train. Creatrix vending machines were constantly humming next to the benches. Revati remembered Amma punching in several numbers to get Dityaa a bottle of mango lassi. There had been a stand in the center of the platform selling park maps and plastic magic wands. Pink and red roses grew in orderly bushes. Holographic signs floated on the walls, stating that all data cloud technology would stop working inside the park. Revati had dim memories of her father checking the news on his communications bracelet before they went inside. The signs had long ago been smashed to pieces and were now nothing more than broken screens. The Creatrix vending machines had been looted and were now filled with spiders. The roses all grew in wild tangles flowing over the garden beds.

"Wow; these roses have gone feral! They're singing about how much they wish they could prick people with their thorns," Brigadeiro remarked as Camilo approached the abandoned purple shuttle train with his tool belt.

"Are we far enough away from the wall?" Revati asked.

"We should be! All the vending machines were, so they led the attack during the invasion! The only thing that stopped them was the station's power supply getting cut off," Camilo said, gesturing about. Camilo was right; the station was dim and depressing under the grey Martian sunlight. Revati nodded and whisked the cloak off the figure. The maternity droid stared back at her. Camilo had taken the time to repaint its face. Its lips were a deep scarlet, its eyes bright cheerful green. Camilo had also replaced its broken legs with bulky steel ones he had spray-painted blue with cheerful flowers painted down the side. The belly door had been reattached and was now filled with a healthy white light.

"Hello, I am your custom-built Materno 4000 Deluxe prenatal droid! Would you like to grow a new baby or link to your pre-existing infant?" The android chirped in a flat metallic voice.

"Pre-existing infant," Revati said, and the Android's eyes fluttered.

"Your pre-existing infant is 218 months old, is this correct?" The android asked.

"Correct," Revati said, and the android blinked again.

"Your pre-existing infant is currently out of detection range; would you like to create a new infant?" The android asked.

"No! I want to talk to the lady who was using you as a microphone before," Revati said.

"You have to tell it to open maternal communication! I turned the channel off," Camilo said from where he had managed to open the front panel of the train.

"Open maternal communication!" Brigadeiro said eagerly.

The android's eyes fluttered shut once again. There was nothing.

"I don't think we're far enough away from the wall," Revati sighed.

But then the humming began. A faint, child-like humming came from behind the Android's lips.

"Whispers in the motherboard, a haunting tune,

A phantom dancing in the light of a digital moon," Brigadeiro sang along, and Revati shot him a confused look.

"It's humming Circuit whispers! From the hit musical 'The Android of Music,'" Brigadeiro explained.

"I've never heard of it," Revati confessed.

"You've never heard of 'The Android of Music'? Praise group! Once you've rescued your sister, I'll have to take you! Everyone needs to hear 'The Android of Music,'" Brigadeiro said firmly. Before Revati had a chance to reply, the android's eyes snapped open again.

"Thank Krishna! Finally, a decent signal; it's been eighteen years," the android exclaimed in an incredibly annoyed upper-class woman's voice. The Android reached clumsily toward Revati, snatching her bag. Then it reached inside, pulling out Dityaa's hairbrush. The belly door swung open, and the Android shoved the hairbrush inside.

"Did it just do what I think it just did?" Brigadeiro grimaced.

"How else do you expect me to trace my daughter's DNA?" The Android asked, and then her belly glowed green.

"Right, the last recording of her DNA imprint was in New Singapore six hours ago! Let's go find my baby," the android said firmly and cheered as the train burst back into life.

[stochastique-blog]

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[rom-e-o]

A Moment of Weakness (Emmrich/OC)💚F!Rook

The game isn't even out. We don't know Emmrich's personality, VA, ... really, anything beyond the bare bones as I write this ... but I couldn't help myself! I hope this little story is enjoyable, despite inaccuracies, haha!

TW: alcohol mention/mild tipsy behavior.

It had started with a simple sentence, but one that Emmrich immediately realized was shrouded in complex sentiment.

Hours before, Belisma (“Rook”, as she was affectionately called) had knocked on the door to his study and invited him to share a drink with him. More specifically, she had wanted to toast a successfully long day of battles and negotiations by imbibing together at the Lighthouse, a base that was unnerving as it was beautiful. She had even surprised him with a dusty bottle of red imported right from Nevarra. It carried the region’s distinct fruity notes; a stark contrast to the stench of death and semi-permanent haze of stale incense the region was known for.

Perhaps that was why such bottles were so coveted. Even he, with all his knowledge and history of the reason, carried not the knowledge of a versed sommelier. He did know, however, that the drink was strong.

The drink had boosted their spirits quickly, and loosened lips even more so.

Moments before, he'd been laughing amicably at an amusing anecdote she'd told him about an awkward encounter with a former suitor. Quite the crude young man, from what the woman had described. Hardly someone suitable for a woman like her, he'd thought.

Then, she’d let the sentence slip.

"I’m glad I can be useful here … I’m more suited for the battlefield than a quiet life anyway.” Then, she added, "Could you imagine … me, with a husband waiting for me back home? What poor soul could I do that to?”

Emmrich, dressed casually in a starched shirt and trousers (but still adorned in his rings and jangling bangles), paused to flick his gaze at present company.

"What?"

With a little hiccup, she allowed herself to sink against the weight of the table. "It's amusing, isn't it?"

"What is?" Emmrich prodded, a silver brow lifted. Her self-deprecating words had sobered him. "The thought of you with … a husband?”

"Right," she said. "Or a lover or ... someone of similar station. Even if someone was interested, I have nothing to offer. Mages aren’t exactly known for their large dowries and influence – even the wealthiest ones – compared to normal nobles.”

She paused, her eyes drifting askance as she tapped her nails on the oak table. “That was what he said, anyway.”

"Who?"

"Cyril," she reminded him. "I just told you about him. He was my last ... suitor, I suppose. I was 25. We met in a Circle. It feels like yesterday, but... his words stuck. Evidently."

The man gently lowered his chalice onto the table, the sweet wine forgotten. His eyes, rimmed with intrigue but touched with sadness, examined her. While a devoted scholar, Emmrich was also a man with decades of experience working with peers of many ages and backgrounds. Many called him a gentleman for the ways he seemed to invite conversation and put others at ease, but he preferred to his he simply put proper effort into listening. He leaned in, encouraging her to say more.

The silent prodding bore fruit. "I mean, it's inarguable. Look at me."

He did. He had been since they'd started working alongside each other.

He saw a lovely woman, just a small handful of years younger than him. She was a head shorter than him, with a feminine but muscled build from years of training as a mage and honing her skills. Her jaw, cut perfectly square enough to put the gems on any viscount's ring to shame, was adorned with bright eyes and lips that were ... very pleasant.

Her eyes reflected the color of freezing cold sap, tapped from the tree of Emprise du Lion. Her lips, painted with a swatch of coral, looked full and soft as far as he could tell. He hadn't been blessed enough to feel them pillow against his skin, but he could imagine. Her skin bore a light tan, and her hair swung gaily over her shoulders with each spin and flip on the battlefield. Starlight-gray waves sprouted from her scalp, and he thought they framed her face beautifully. Elegantly.

"I ... see you," he said carefully. He stammered a moment, eyes still searching for what she could mean. “I see you quite well, as a matter of fact.”

To him, she looked like a partner anyone would be lucky to have.

"Well, there you go," she added with a light, almost flippant laugh.

"I fail to see what's funny."

"...Emmrich, you don't have to be polite," she said, her voice becoming softer as a result of his stern but inquisitive tone. “I’m not a child.”

"I am being honest, with the politeness always secondary," he reminded her. “Lucanis can testify to that.”

A tense beat of silence passed. Before he could speak up, she sighed and pushed her chalice away. It flared bottom skipped lightly across the uneven wood grain. "I-I'm sorry. That's my cue. I’ve had enough to drink, I believe."

Another shaky laugh left her. Emmrich heard a telltale tremble in her voice, and rose to pursue her.

"Belisma, wait—”

"I’m sorry," she said, cutting him off. Palm flattening against the wall to better support her weight, she made her way toward the great hall's door to exit.

It only took one hobble for him to round the table after her. "You’re unsteady. I'll walk you."

"Please. Stay."

A man of many years, he could easily transcribe her true request from the dismal look on her face: “Keep back and let me go.”

So, he did.

Not one to disobey their leader, especially when she requested something so simple, he respected her desire for space. Falling back, he watched her go. She did not falter again, from what he could see.

Her shadow eventually slinked out of the room and to the left, which was the path he knew led to her quarters. As he watched her vanish into the night-darkened halls of the base, regret filled his lungs like sea water.

He should have said something sooner.

Night.

Night in the Fade was … very similar to the day, he had to admit. It wasn’t even really night, he supposed. Just an agreed upon hour where they all stole moments of slumber between onslaughts of enemies.

Back home, night was the most comfortable hour for the necromancer, as it shrouded the work in a silver-tinted darkness. Temperatures cooled, and his mind could home in better on his duties as an esteemed member of the Mourn Watch. Night was a time for study; a time for work. A time for solving problems he refused to let fester.

Here, the air still shimmered like mica, but the sky did not grow inky like it did in the mortal realms. Its comforts felt somewhat hollow, but it was all he had, so he took them.

When the Lighthouse was quiet save for his footsteps, he left his chamber and began to walk.

Emmrich knew his destination, in theory. There was a sparse list of places their Rook would, or could, travel to for relaxation. One of those areas was a small room located a few floors up, overlooking the Fade’s ever-twitching horizon. A small, stone room where mages could practice magic without risk of rogue spells hurting others.

Upon arriving at the room, he heard her voice from within. Grunts and yells of exertion peppered the otherwise quiet air. The older man took a deep breath, which served the dual purpose of bolstering his confidence as well as calming his racing heart.

He knocked. A beat of silence passed.

Then, a voice called from beyond the iron-enforced frame. "Come in."

A pleasant voice. A kind, womanly, familiar voice that could lure enamored men to burn their tomes for her.

Ignoring that he fit into that category all too neatly himself, he swallowed and entered the chamber. As he laid his palm against the frame, the metal was warm to the touch, even through his adorned glove.

The room was built from stone, top to bottom, with only a few slots to serve as windows. They also provided the handy attribute of ventilation, as this chamber was one mages utilized to train their abilities.

It was quite common to enter the training room to find the air crackling with electricity, or to nearly slip on ice-covered stones from the last mage practicing a bout of freezing spells.

In this case, Belisma appeared to be practicing fire magic. Her staff drawn and the smell of cinder permeating the air, she turned and gave the visitor a smile. The iron-clad tip of her staff still burned red-hot in the semi-darkness as she turned to him.

"Oh! Emmrich."

She looked pleased to see him on the surface, but he knew her better by now. There was a slight, nervous way her lower eyelids would upturn when she peered at him, like she was squinting through him, as if to see better intentions.

Nodding, he risked a step forward. "I thought I heard you in here. I ... wanted to check on you."

Although he spoke carefully, her face still fell at his admission. "Ah. Because of earlier."

"Yes, earlier."

A measured sigh snaked in and out of her lungs.

"It … was a moment of weakness," she confessed, hands dropping to her sides. He noticed with a heavy heart that she cast her gaze to the opposite corner of the room. An obvious sign of shame. "I shouldn't have burdened you with that. I'd had too much to drink and ... I suppose the ghosts of the past got a hold of me. I apologize."

"You needn’t apologize for that," he said kindly. "You're hardly the first one to divulge personal secrets over a chalice of wine, and I'm sure you'll be far from the last."

Her brown eyes sought his. "W-Well, when you put it like that ... perhaps you're right."

"I often am," he teased.

She smiled at that, and his heart leapt again. Gods above, how had any man made the woman before him feel unworthy of affection. Had time-altering spells been more his forte, he might have chanced traveling back a few decades just to clobber the fool with a skull. Or two. Perhaps a dragon skill, if he could lift it. Taash could help, he reasoned.

As the silence spurred his thoughts, it quieted hers in tandem. She sighed, tapping the leather-wrapped end of her staff’s hilt against the floor.

In a split second, bright sparks flitted between the crevices in the stone, snaking their way upwards through the narrow channels until the fire leads to the wicks of the candles adorning the room's small chandelier. With the formerly cavernous room now aglow with firelight, he could more keenly observe a notable flush to her cheeks.

"Thank you," she said softly. "I'm glad I didn't scare you away from wanting to talk to me."

He snorted in amusement. "It'll take more than banter to scare me, dear."

The realization of the term slipping out hit too late, and he cleared his thought awkwardly. "I-I've seen more death than some armies, you know. So n-no. Not scared at all. No."

He heard her chuckle warmly at his stammering. Perhaps she found it endearing, he hoped.

Nonetheless, fighting his own blush now, a hand lofted to scratch his temple. It was also his turn to look away, lest he become lost in those syrupy eyes again.

“I promise to hold my drink better when we hold our next private celebration,” she noted gaily. “You won’t have to listen to an old maid ramble, haha. Nobody here needs that in our only place of respite.”

Just as Emmrich had turned to scuttle away, he was lured back. “Stop that.”

She paused, glancing up at him. “Hm?”

“Stop with the self-depreciating comments, Belisma.”

Unlike his voice before, which had wavered from boyish shyness, his tone in the moment was pure bravado. He allowed himself to take pleasure in watching her cheeks turn cherry-red. Despite the color that bloomed on her face, her eyes remained glued to him.

“E-Emm—”

“You are a woman of immense talent and beauty, and while I enjoy your company here more than the company of any other, I cannot abide by you taking every opportunity to be so disparaging of yourself.”

He took a step toward her, and Maker, she stayed in place. He didn’t so much as take a breath as he dared to advance another. Before he knew it, it had crossed the threshold between them enough for their chests to barely touch. He couldn’t help but note that she was even more captivating from this angle.

“You are our leader, a talented mage, and your dedication to leading us through this rather unprecedented situation is nothing short of remarkable,” he reminded her.

“You think—”

“You call yourself an ‘old maid’? Please. You are an incredible woman, and any soul across Tevinter, Nevarra, or bloody Thedas would be lucky to share a room, or a drink, with you. I certainly am.”

He saw her eyes widen, but he couldn’t stop himself. The floodgates had opened, and it was impossible to bring them crashing down again.

“They’d be even luckier to have you as a partner…a lover, as you said before.”

A stern finger lofted to prod her collarbone lightly, a gesture that would have potentially felt patronizing if they weren’t too adults that seemed to be drifting closer by the second.

The next words caught in his throat.

“A-As I…should …”

The molten intrigue in her eyes vanished in that moment. With the poise he often saw her display on the battlefield, her eyes fell shut as she flowed forward.

He braced for a slap, but felt her lips press against his instead.

Maker, he thought in a blitz of passion, how long had it been since anyone had kissed him? Decades, probably. The thought was met with fleeting entertainment, but quickly passed as he realized he wasn’t going to overthink himself out of appreciating the moment.

He leaned in, hands finding purchase on her hips for balance.

Her lips, as he’d thought, were so soft. They became even more pliable when he reciprocated, angling his head in a way so that slotted his nose beside hers and pressed hard into her cheek. The better angle allowed him to nudge all the closer. Her bottom lip was nestled between his at first, but with another sway of their bodies, she tilted away, and he took the opportunity to take that lip between his teeth just slightly.

He worried for a moment it was too forward, but concerns melted when she moaned (gods, a glorious sound!) and inched her arms upward. First, she gripped his shoulders. Then, her arms wrapped around his neck, nudging their pounding hearts into further alignment.

Just the scrape of his teeth made her gasp again, and her strong arms hauled him closer. With her bosom pressed to his chest and their thighs flush, it was euphoria. The man was too enamored to realized that he’d walked her backward across the room, pressing her to the stone wall gently. Unable to help himself, he smiled against the kiss, and she chased that smile with her own.

When they parted for air, panting and breathless, he stared into her eyes. They looked even darker than they had before. All the more tempting to become lost in them, he noted.

“I…I have not been kissed in a very, very long time …” he admitted breathlessly.

Belisma’s lips, now a slightly more muted shade after he’d kissed her lipstick off, curved into a smile.

“I’ve never been kissed like that,” she confessed with a whisper. “Ever.”

Shared mirth leapt between them, and he dared to rest his forehead against hers.

“P-Perhaps I should get tipsy more often if it leads to pleasant moments like this.”

A laughter, warm like summer thunder, rumbled in his chest. He eyes crinkled as he cupped her cheek, noting how she leaned int his touch.

“Well,” he husked, his voice shifting to a pleasant burr as he urged her close, “All the more reason from you to not drink alone again, dear.”

This time, he leaned in to capture her lips against his.

And she, their fearless Rook, leaned into him with abandon.

I'm now going to go back to begging BioWare for crumbs, haha.

[olaqueenbeeofastrology]

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[stardust-swan]

How to Be a Real Life Mermaid 🌊🧜‍♀️🐚

The Look

🐚 Wear sea foam green, aquamarine, teal, ocean blue, soft grey, lilac, periwinkle, emerald, pale gold, white, deep blue, and turquoise

🐚 Pick flowy fabrics such as taffeta, chiffon, linen, silk, muslin, and sequined fabrics that resemble fish scales

🐚 Choose garments like maxi dresses, flowy skirts, bandeau off-the-shoulder tops, tank tops, soft scarves used as tops, shell clutches, woven bags, and pretty beaded sandals

🐚 Accessorise with jewellery made from pearls, sea glass, seashells, turquoise, aquamarine, opals, gold that resembles the sun glinting on the sea, and silver that reminds one of the metallic sheen of fish scales. Examples of accessories you can wear are bangles, anklets, layered necklaces, and pearl earrings

🐚 Makeup Ideas: eyeshadow in nudes like a sandy beach, greens and blues like the sea, or lavender and pink like a coral reef, shimmery highlight, dewy skin, coral pink lipstick, and seashell pink lipgloss

🐚 Hair Ideas: loose curls that look like ocean waves, fishtail plaits, green and blue hair dye, pearl hairclips, and sea salt hairspray. Brush your hair with a pretty wide-tooth comb.

The Lifestyle

🐚 Listen to songs such as Martha's Harbour by All About Eve, No Ordinary Love by Sade, Come Into the Water by Mitski, Pearl Diver by Mitski, Mariners Apartment Complex by Lana Del Rey, and Call of the Sea by Claudie Mackula (a longer mermaid playlist is here).

🐚 You can also listen to the sounds of the ocean, like whale song or waves crashing on the beach

🐚 Watch movies and TV shows such as Aquamarine, Splash, The Little Mermaid, H20: Just Add Water, Mr Peabody and the Mermaid, Miranda (1948), Mermaid Melody Pitchi Pitchi, Ponyo, Barbie in a Mermaid Tale, Barbie: The Pearl Princess, Neptune's Daughter (1914), A Daughter of the Gods (1916), Queen of the Sea (1918), Venus of the South Seas (1924), and Magic Island (1995)

🐚 Read books, fairytales, and poems such as The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen, The Mermaid Handbook by Carolyn Turgeon, Mermaids: The Myths, Legends, and Lore by Skye Alexander, A Daughter of the Sea by Amy Le Feuvre, Undine by Friedrich de la Motte Fouqué, The Mermaid by Alfred Lord Tennyson, and The Sea-Child by Katherine Mansfield

🐚 Mermaids are renowned for their beautiful siren song, so sing sweetly and brightly as often as you feel like it

🐚 Make your self smell like the ocean by using a deodorant like Old Spice Deep Sea, and perfumes like L by Lolita Lempicka, Acqua di Gioia, Salt Air by Skylar, Fleur de Corail by Lolita Lempicka, Seahorse by Zoologist, Nymphéas by Kismet Olfactive, Salina by Laborattorio Olfattivo, Alien Mirage by Mugler, Very Sexy Sea by Victoria's Secret, 20,000 Flowers Under the Sea by Tokyomilk, Nebbia Spessa by Filippo Sorcinelli, Tiziana Terenzi's Sea Stars Collection, Chant d'Extase by Nina Ricci, Sirena by Floris, Squid by Zoologist, and Orto Parisi Megamare (be aware that the latter two suit a dark siren who lures men to their deaths more than a sweet mermaid princess).

🐚 Make your home smell like the deep sea too, with sea salt scented diffusers and candles such as Yankee Candle Sea Minerals, Yankee Candle Seaside Woods, or Jo Malone Wood Sage and Sea Salt

🐚 Home Decor Ideas: silk sheets in blue, grey, and sea green, seashell jewellery trays, homemade terrariums, jellyfish embroidery, seashell candles, beaded curtains made from string and shells, paintings of maritime scenes, glass vases filled with layers of sand, seashells, and faux pearls, seashell shaped soap dishes, rattan furniture, woven baskets, treasure chests to keep your valuables in, mermaid figurines, a seashell or jellyfish mobile, a bowl filled with seashells, a glass bottle filled with ocean water or with a love letter inside to replicate a message in a bottle, mosaics with marine motifs like seahorses and shells, even an aquarium with colourful fish if you are able to care for them

🐚 Spend lots of time around near bodies of water, swimming in it to connect with your inner mermaid, or just walking in it and feeling the sand beneath your feet

🐚 Collect seashells and pretty pieces of sea glass thar wash up on the shore

🐚 Watch synchronised swimming, or even learn it yourself

🐚 Go diving, snorkeling, or mermaiding

🐚 Visit aquariums to see beautiful exotic fish and learn more about the ocean

🐚 Do your best to be sustainable; make the world a cleaner place for your fishy friends to live in. If possible, attend a beach clean-up group local to your area to help pick up litter

🐚 Carry a haircomb and hand mirror with you at all times (you can hotglue seashells and faux pearls on the back of the mirror to make it even more like a mermaid's treasure)

🐚 Watch documentaries and read books on the ocean, marine life, and nautical myths and legends

🐚 Enjoy snacking on seaweed soup, coconut water, and Guylian seashell chocolates

🐚 Take luxurious baths with dead sea salt, seaweed masks, small white bath bombs that resemble pearls, a coconut scented candle, and calming music

[hollownekomata]

//preliminary info on the other two Cooperative Arrancars because they're scratching at my brain but not enough to draw their looks (much of this could be subjected to change but the general concepts are set):

Gwynvere Clarnive Campanária (she/them) - Ex Arrancar n.58

Animal: Barn Owl

Fourth Division (main tasks: courier, quick transport of medical equip)

Actively seeks out the Recruitment Squad to join the Unit. Once one of Baraggan's fracciones, she defects right before the Segunda Espada leaves for the World of the Living because she feels like skipping work (again) and doesn't want to deal with Ggio. Only having joined Baraggan for their own interests, she doesn't have any particular reaction to his demise. After Aizen's defeat, Hueco Mundo becomes too "dull" and "tame" for her, and so decides that switching over to the winning side isn't such a bad idea.

Opportunistic troublemaker whose favorite hobby is to stick her nose into other people's business. Loathes hard work, prefers to flutter around the Gotei 13 to pick up on the latest gossip, or just find people to pester (his favorites are Iemura, Ikkaku and Yumichika). The only one she sort of respects and is thus safe from her mischief is Captain Unohana --Gwyn never misses her ikebana classes.

Physical highlights: has owl-like wings made of hollow bone-plate which she uses often, even for short distances. Her mask is a pair of big round glasses frames (no glass, just the frame). Hollow hole placement still unknown. Her smug aura mocks you, constantly.

Zampakuto: Malasorte (command: "Descend") - (appearance unknown)

--

Rorkedras Ippodirge (he/him), Ex Arrancar n.30

Animal: Horse/Seahorse

Fifth Division (main task: being an asshole, for now)

Joins the unit seemingly on a whim. Before Aizen's arrival, he was the leader of a small pack of Adjuchas who he considered his closest friends. Among them was his brother, who leaves the group in search of power to become a Vasto Lorde, only to come back some time after gone mad from the desperate realization that no matter how many souls he'd consume, he'll never trascend his current state. As a last resort, Rorke's brother slaughters his old group of comrades thinking that will be the key to reach "enlightenment", but is cut down by Rorke himselt. Found by chance by Aizen and his lot, he receives the blessing of the Hōgyoku and becomes the n.30.

Things don't go much furhter for him under Aizen, seemingly because of lack of potential to become an Espada. The lack of recognition makes him bitter towards Aizen and his lot, and he's actively happy to hear they were defeated. Deep inside, he misses the connection he had with his pack and that subconsciously leads him to join the Cooperative Unit.

Arrogant, loud, sarcastic and a big show-off. Short-tempered. Takes joy in standing out and getting attention, often seeking it by getting into fights in front of an audience. Those who know his story probably understand it's a symptom of losing his leader role and his close friends, but he hides it all behind a fierce mask. The closest way to his heart is praise, and attention, and playing along with his antics. Shinji is the only one able to keep him somewhat in place, while he takes a liking for Momo because of her determination.

Physical highlights: hollow hole placement unknown. His mask covers his right cheek/temple, and looks like a fossilized ammonite. His horns are supposed to recall coral (hones them often for that exact reason). Loves golden jewellery and is covered in it (earrings, bangle bracelets, anklets), adorns his face with pearl-shaped ornaments, sometimes glitter.

Zampakuto: Nereide (command: "Drench") - looks like a double-edged oar

first very raw sketches:

[missmitchieg]

I need Garcia to wear mint and coral. Cause reasons

Girlie, your mind! She would do it in such a cute way, too. Like, I can see a cute coral hair bow and a bangle bracelet. A look.

[owlespresso]

deep sea dreaming. hythlodaeus. Tags: Ascian!Hythlodaeus, I posted the first half of this in October. Here it is, completed.

A gulp of wet, salty air fills your lungs. Above you, there is the crash of the howling tides, covering the realm in deep, dark bluish light. The sea itself is somehow suspended, as though a lone pocket of air has formed on the floor. In the distance, formations of stone and spider web coral entangle a rough landscape. The precipice you stand upon is made of dark, wet stone. Tendrils of coral branch from the walls and cover the ground. 

“Incredible view, is it not?” a voice chimes, suddenly at your side. You blink. The realization comes slow as the morning fog sets in.

“Yeah, it is,” you agree quietly, sneaking a furtive glance at the figure which now stands beside you. You hadn’t heard his approach, and that alone is enough to make you wary. Long, lavender hair is held up in a ponytail, braids interspersed through the long silken strands. One is tied around his ponytail’s base, and one frames the left side of his face. Handsome. Well-dressed in showy armor you know bards have a preference for, swishing fabric paired with gilded gold and black leather. Bangles and bracelets aplenty.

“And there is so much more still to see,” the man promises, “Would you like a tour? I know well all the worthwhile sights around here.” Before you even answer, he’s already taking a small step away. He flows like he’s floating, clothes billowing in a way gravity should not allow. This is a dream, you reason. 

Light catches off the gleaming gold of his bracelets as they roll over his arm, shifting with the movement of his arm as he offers a hand. Half-gloves, the kind archers of the Twin Adders adorn. 

You cast a weary glance upwards and find a sea instead of a sky, air damp and salted. It makes sense, to long for the comforting dimness of the wide seas when you’re currently mired in the arid deserts of Ala Mhigo. Why not indulge in this fleeting fantasy your exhausted mind has created?

He looks tender. His smile reaches his eyes.

“I would,” you take his offered hand. “Thank you.”

You wake up.

—

The deep ocean caverns are populated by all matter of fascinating flora and fauna. The coral becomes neon in certain places, rays and pugils which roam undisturbed sport noticeable differences from their Source counterparts. A series of spread out claw marks etched in stone indicate a marked path and more interesting intelligent life. A thin, uneven stone pathway winds up a cliff face, winding behind a thin waterfall.

For once, you have no destination, only the vaguest and most easily ignored notion that something is amiss. You climb up, sticking tight to the wall as the jagged stone leads you in a spiral motion to the very top. You emerge at the current’s side, overlooking the ledge. At the edge, you spot a familiar head of hair. He’s sitting with his calves dangling over the ledge, next to where the water rolls and crashes.

You don’t muffle your footsteps as you approach, let your steel toes scuff the wet stone underfoot.

“Back so soon?” he asks coyly, tilting his head to the side. He looks up at you slyly, from underneath thick, pale lashes. They flutter against his cheek whenever he blinks.

“I was promised a tour.” you respond in kind. He smiles wider and stands, stretching his arms over his head. His shirt rides up to reveal a slip of pale skin, right above his skinny hips.

“That you were.” he agrees, indulgent. “Though, I don’t recall the word ‘promise’ ever being said.”

“Should I go it alone, then? I would hate to bother you.” you say, and he looks down at you with wide eyes. for a moment taken aback, before his expression mellows back to that same, tranquil countenance, plump lips curved in that perfect smile.

“It was merely a jest. I would love nothing more than to serve as your guide,” he assures you warmly, beckoning with a shrug of his shoulder. “Come. There are sights most fantastical for us to see.”

And you do. 

He takes you to clusters of glowing crystal formations which span up the walls of the caverns. The light glistens across the dark waters of the undersea currents as they rush and churn. He brings you to an opening in the cave where swarms of ray-like creatures chase schools of red and silvery fish, gliding through the waters with flutter

The most unique sight is a structure so immaculate that it cannot be anything but manmade. Rectangular in shape, carved of pale stone, embossed with straight lines and complex geometric patterns. Steep panes of glass are mounted in extended half round windows towards the top. In its heyday, it must have been large enough to house at least five stories. A grand tower which would have easily challenged Ishgard’s steepest spires. That must be why it feels so familiar.

“Incredible,” you breathe, wet sand crunching beneath your boots. “To think that such an advanced civilization once called these depths home.”

“A touching notion. However, when these husks were still grand towers, the waters had yet to set in. They couldn’t even be seen over the horizon,” your guide informs you, brushing a gloved hand over the stonework, streaked now with seaweed and clumps of pale coral. 

“How do you know that?” you can’t help but prod, blinking.

“This is but a taste of what is to come,” he continues with a smile, blatantly ignoring your query. “Come, come now, before I lose you again.”

The twinge of irritation fades instantly. You deflate as he flounces on ahead, leaving you to stare at the opening in the back of his jacket, skin exposed by purposefully folded fabrics. 

Of course, he hadn’t been able to give you an answer. This is a dream, after all. Your mind simply hadn’t been able to bridge the plot holes in the story in time. Your adventure away from adventuring in the waking world—if that’s what libering two entire nations could be called.

A brief touch to the small of your back jolts you from your stupor. You’re left to look up into concerned, amethyst eyes. He’s returned to your side without you even noticing. Certainly a dream, you decide, admiring his long lashes and soft lips.

“Are you alright? Feeling faint? I suppose the air down here can be difficult to acclimate to…” he says, tutting fretfully.

“I’m fine,” you insist, hastily starting in the direction he initially rushed towards. “Just lost in thought, is all! Everything you've shown me has been so breathtaking. It’s truly so much to take in.”

“Never been to the bottom of the sea before?” he teased, catching up with long, quick strides.

“No. This is my first time,” you reply with a smile. Slope of craggy rock lay ahead, resembling the aftermath of a rockslide. “Be careful.” you chide as he immediately begins to scale down the stone. His long, gangly legs roam over the rounded rocks and small boulders, knees every now and then scraping over rough surfaces and skittering pebbles. You take a more measured approach, following his chosen path at a slower pace. He awaits you at the bottom, looking none worse for wear. His thigh high boots are a little scuffed at the knees—better the leather than his skin. 

He reaches out a hand, and you take it.

You wake up.

—

Your eyes snap open wide. A hulking monument of steel spires and star-strewn steeples looms in the distance. It is a gleaming metropolis underneath the rolling tides. The architecture is reminiscent of the crumpled tower you observed within the cave, but a newfound, brutal sense of familiarity which washes over you like a cold wave. 

You’ve been here before. You don’t know how or when, but your heart aches with it. The cavity of your chest feels the emptiest it ever has, a craving for something unnamable hollowing out the space between your ribs, your stomach.

“I thought you would enjoy this part the most,” a voice chimes from behind you. Your conjured guide comes to stand beside you, staring at the splendid vista. There is a tenderness to his expression, all the world’s love crammed into that fond gaze. 

“It’s incredible,” you breathe, eyes blown wide. “I can’t quite explain it, but I—”

“Feel like you’ve been here before?” he finishes for you. His grin is knowing. “Come. how about we take a closer look?”

“I would.” You reach for his outstretched hand, but you hesitate, palm hovering over his own. Will you wake up, should you decide to take it? You don’t want this to end just yet. You’re not ready to face the Ala Mhigan sun, hot enough to scorch the skin and bleach the bones. He raises his brows, expectant. You take his hand.

Your eyes snap open wide. You gasp for the salty air. The buildings now tower around you, the streets far wider than you anticipated. No city you have ever visited has been so monumental in scale. 

“Ah. It’s been quite some time since I’ve visited,” your guide sighs fondly, resting his hands on his hips. “In an age long past, I would have bemoaned the long trip from my humble abode to the Bureau. But now… I think I would be glad to have as much time here as possible, to savor sights I might have overlooked. It might be cliche, but you never truly know what you have until it’s gone.” 

You’re not sure how to take that, so you begin with the easiest question. “You worked here, then?” You know what  Bureau is, at the very least. You can’t envision him working in an office.

A pause, then, “Lived here. And loved here.” he murmurs, eyelids lowering as he regards you.

“Truly? The other folks look a little too large for you to fit in with,” you point out. You regret it a moment later. Why poke holes in the plot you’ve made to amuse yourself whilst asleep? Must you question every obscure corner? What purpose does your questioning even serve?

“The magicks our people possess enables us to occupy a wide variety of forms. We can even shape forms which we occupy to our very will, lest you doubt. I would have alarmed you had I shown up to you as a veritable giant, would I have not?”

“Well, yes. But these magicks you speak of, they sound remarkable,” you’ve only ever heard of glamorous, purely visual illusions. What a marvel it would be if such transformative techniques actively existed in the waking world. You wonder, briefly, what this means in regards to your inner psyche and self-image, but disregard the matter hastily. The kindly traveler smiles.

“Are they not? Come. I would show you more.”

And show you more, he does. He guides you down the long avenues, dutifully explaining each building’s function with striking depth and clarity. The giants who hover about this unearthly metropolis are peaceful, if not amicable. Most wave at and greet you, speaking in droning chimes which you somehow understand. They’re kind souls; you can feel it, but they are also remarkably troubled by something called The Final Days.

“Uhm,” you clear your throat. He’s guided you inside an academy of some sort. Live aquatic specimens swim in tanks from wall-to-wall, some more familiar to you than others. A large glass window provides a few into a much larger enclosure filled with water, only populated by a circular platform in the center. And some sort of shark, judging by the massive red fin which juts just about the surface.

“Yes? If you have questions, please do not hesitate to ask. I know a great deal about most of the specimens here, having personally reviewed them myself.” he informs you, so earnestly you nearly oblige him. You’ll ask him questions until you turn blue in the face if he indulges you. Everything about this dreamscape is utterly fascinating. To think, your mind could conjure up such elaborate visions with such defined rules. You’ve never dreamt in such depth before. 

“When we were touring the streets earlier, I couldn’t help but overhear some of the citizens talking about some sort of… disaster? The Final Days, I believe they called it.” 

His expression doesn’t budge, while you struggle through your query. The gentle lines of his face are still fixed in a placid smile. Over the years you’ve learned how to read people beyond their base expressions. The lines of his face do not draw tight with displeasure or downcast with sorrow, but his aether does. Or at least, that’s what it feels like. You have no other explanation for the odd feeling which suddenly hangs in the air, a stillness like rancid pond water. 

“The Final Days? I can’t say I have ever heard of such a thing. Sounds dreadful, though,” your guide answers after a long, quiet moment. The dim, green light casts his skin with a sickly parlor, but his eyes gleam all the brighter as he smiles. “Are you perhaps pulling my leg?”

“No, certainly not,” you assure him, all too conscious of the sudden quiet. You become all too conscious of the quiet. The soft whirring of the equipment fastened to the tanks has died down. The churning water wheels have gone dead. And the tanks—were there truly this many before? They’ve doubled in number, you could swear it. The once gentle blue becomes an abrasive cyan, a practical assault on the eyes. They grow larger, loom closer, the space of the room distorting. The floor pulls out from underneath your feet, dragging you towards that blinding glow. 

You shout, casting a desperate look over your shoulder, but your guide is nowhere to be found. It’s only blue, so bright it burns at the corners of your eyes, sets your corneas alight, sears at your skin at the surface of your flesh, burning, burning—

You wake up.

The sheets are cool and buttery soft. You roll just to feel them glide against the bare skin of your legs. You toss and you turn, mind numb in the dark of the room, as relaxed as you have ever been in current memory. In the back of the mind, you are certain that this is not your makeshift camp in the Steppe, or any of the cots in Rhalgar’s Reach. This is a mattress, and a massive one at that. You would have already tumbled off the side if that were not the case.

Another dream, you assume, and leave it at that. Your limbs move sluggishly, thoughts lagged down an gooey. You release that thread of conscious, logical thought and slide deeper and deeper into the velvety dark, the blissful empty.

A muffled voice shouts in the distance, somewhere outside. Your eyes remain shut, but your ears are perked. A door slams.

“You have gone too far,” a man shouts, voice reedy with stress and exasperation. “I could turn a blind eye—” His rambling flickers in and out, some of his sentences too quiet to pick up on. You don’t really mind, you simply listen, catching what fragments you can. Which, you think, is an apt summary of all the dreams you’ve experienced thus far. Just trying to latch onto what little you can grasp.

“Tours—”

“But bringing them here—”

“Calm down, Hades, please—” your mysterious guide responds, pacifying. How curious, that your addled subconscious would choose to conjure up another character linked specifically to your guide. How curious that it would deign to give him a name, when your guide has not yet been given the honor. Hades. It too instills you with a lingering, aching sense of… something missing. You would see this “Hades” you decide.

You shimmy to the edge of the massive mattress, fighting through an ocean of blankets and pillows. You fight to part the fabric around you, emerging into an unfamiliar room. A pair of tapestry curtains is closed ight over the chamber’s single window. A chill passes over you, You anticipate the floors to be startlingly cold under your bare feet. You swing a leg over the edge, touch the floor—

You wake up.

—

Zenos is a great oak of a man, draped in ivy which slithers down his trunk and spreads across the forest floor. Grasping and venomous. You don’t know whether it emerges from him, or what he enables, but you know that it doesn’t die with him. You’ll be chasing his ghosts, machines and legions onto and over the long horizon. Maybe until the day you die.

You refuse to chase him in your dreams. One thing he will not take between his teeth or trap between his thighs.

—

Dappled sunlight says “hello” though the swaying leaves—green maples in full bloom. The pollen tickles your nose, springtime’s warning kiss. Fingers caress your cheek and rub your upper back, rousing you awake.

At the edges of your vision, the immense structures you observed prior stretch hopeful to the heavens. Grand structures of gold and bronze and impossible lengths of cut stone. How many hands must it have taken to build this in-bloom utopia?

A slender finger taps your cheek.

“Have I begun to bore you now that you’ve so much to look at?” your guide teases fondly, smile in his voice. He is grinning, when you look at him a moment later. “There you are, my dear.”

“I could never be bored of you,” you scrunch up your nose, disgruntled at the very idea. It’s likely unwise to be so attached to a vision manufactured by your idle mind, but the logic seems so distant when he’s right here, when you are laying between his legs with your head on high thigh. The modesty you would normally cower beneath has no place here, in this garden of dreams.

“T’was a jest, but I wholeheartedly appreciate the sentiment. I’m so very fortunate to have a friend who cares so much,” he muses fondly, quieter this time. He takes one of your wrist in hand. You watch numbly as he bends forward to kiss the hollow of it. “Truly, there is no greater joy.”

“Now you’re just laying it on thick,” you grumble, tugging your arm back.

“No, surely not,” he replies smoothly over the fabric of your shirt. “It’s important to let others know how you truly feel about them. There’s no telling when those dearest to you may part ways for good, and there is no sorer sting than words left unsaid.” He’s still smiling, but his eyes have gone dull with recollection. He is far away from you, all of the sudden, sent somewhere far by memories of times long lost.

He speaks back to life, tapping your nose with his finger. 

“Now, I believe I promised you a proper tour of the gardens, and I am a man of my word.”

A tour of this veritable paradise sounds simply marvelous, but you can’t quite find the will to move. The very idea of budging when you are already so warm (so safe, something within you coos) almost hurts to think about. It’s a sudden feeling—a welling of panic unfamiliar, but unwarranted. The Warrior of Light, balking at the prospect of exploring new and exciting locales? Perish the thought?

Perhaps your weary mind has had enough exploring for quite some time. Perhaps you crave a respite from the chaos, from tending the meets of those across the seas. It’s only natural to crave rest, you reason, and even more natural for desires to manifest in a dream.

You’re jolted from your train of thought when your guide prods your cheek, concern nettling his fine features. You don’t like seeing him so fretful. A face like his is fit for bliss and contentedness and naught else, worn as gently as the pale lavender of his hair.

“What’s your name?” you ask. He smiles like you’ve just given him the world, eyes crinkling.

“You already know it,” he tells you, relentlessly fond. His hands return to their prior past on your upper back. You squint up at his face, try to place a name to that familiar visage. Are you supposed to name him? You can’t fathom your subconscious would turn the onus on you after holding the reins this entire time. It’s crafted an entire city without any conscious input from you.

“I…” you focus hard, shutting your eyes as the breeze kicks up. Warm spring air washes across your face, accompanied by the sweet scent of burgeoning blooms—the steam which rises from a piping hot cup of tea as he cuts through the rows of tables, carrying a saucer by its edge.

The library is closed, but you often remain after hours. He joins you in the otherwise empty space, with a smile and a cup of your favorite blend grown right outside in the gardens. You while the hours away late into the night, until Hades comes to get you. He huffs and he puffs at how easily you both lose track of time—but he always comes.

“Hades will wonder where we are,” he says, setting the cup down next to your mounting pile of tomes.

“He’ll find us eventually,” you reply. “Thank you, Hyth—”

“—lodaeus,” your eyes open as your lips form around the tail end of his name. It feels as though something’s been slotted back into place, a piece of the puzzle you didn’t even know was missing. 

Hythlodaeus tilts his head back completely, so you can’t see his face. A  long few moments are spent in that rare, hovering silence. Is your subconscious reevaluating? Have you finally hit a snag that will unravel this series of strange dreams?

When he looks back down at you, he’s smiling again. Or perhaps, he hasn’t stopped.

“That’s right,” he murmurs, bending over you. His breath brushes the crown of your head. The scent of him, rosehips and jasmine, washes over you. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that name again. I could spend an eternity listening to you repeat it.”

You blink, feeling slow and hazy and stupid all of the sudden. “What?”

“Or, perhaps a mere century would suffice—if only to enjoy everything else you can do with that mouth of yours,” he says, nearly giddy. “Rest assured, we will have ample enough time. So come to my room, next time, alright? I’ll be waiting.” 

He kisses you on the forehead.

You fall asleep, plunged into inky dark waters.

—

“A man can only wait several hundred centuries before he assumes you’ve lost interest.”

[gesray]

https://www.etsy.com/listing/1511729117/deeply-carved-coral-celluloid-bangle Deeply Carved Coral Celluloid Roses Bangle Bracelet Art Deco, Carved Flowers Bangle

[pepoboyz]

my first artfight piece, for ~gobbie / @gobbieink

i had “focus on TEXTURE” written on my canvas while i was coloring

[id: a digital portrait of a young man with tan, freckled skin and coral hair. he has various scars on his body. he wears a teal, sleeveless crop top and shorts, with deeper blue and red accents. gold bangles adorn his wrists, alongside fingerless gloves. held in place by a thin gold belt around his waist is a beige sash. on one leg, the top of a prosthetic liner is visible. he holds a khopesh, a curved blade, in one hand, both arms flourished above his head. the background is a simple decorative frame. end id]

[steliosagapitos]

~ "Chimera Bangle in coral, emeralds, and diamonds with natural pearls and cabochon Burmese rubies, Cartier, 1935." ~

[waldensblog]

Saw Ballad on the 17th. Detailed thoughts below the cut

So, I absolutely loved the movie, and I am very very excited to see all the amazing edits that people are going to make!

I love that we got to see a little bit of the Dark Days with the opening scene, the true fragility of the Capitol system that Snow hinted at in Catching Fire.

When they introduce Highbottom, I noticed they had a founder of Panem memorial in the background with the name "Trajan Heavensbee" on it. Knowing that a lot of the names are specific nods to Ancient figures, I had to google it, and lo and behold: the Roman empire reached its largest geographical extent under Emperor Trajan. Perhaps it was Trajan Heavensbee, as founder of Panem, who ultimately subjugated the districts to create Panem? I love this little detail.

I will never not be obsessed with the tragic relationship between Sejanus and Coryo, and I loved the depiction in the film. Coryo initially says they aren't friends, that he only tolerates him, but then when Snow is sitting alone at lunch, it's only Sejanus who sits with him. Coryo tells himself throughout the film that he doesn't care, only to break down when he realizes he's killed the only true friend he ever had. Sejanus deserved so much better, and the jabberjay's echoing his last words is an absolutely haunting scene.

On that note, I am so sad they didn't include more of the Plinths in the film. Strabo and Coryo never talked, we never got to see the absolutely disgusting way he visits them at the end and becomes basically their heir/adoptive son because of how he was a "good friend" to Sejanus. I so wish they included this in the movie, but I assume that he was on his way to the Plinths in the last scene when he stares at the statue.

Of course, I loved Lucy Gray. She was a gentle and good soul, but she knew how to survive as well. She was able to perform for the cameras, but she was real with Coryo. I love how they gave her the accent this time!!! I loved her singing and staring in defiance of the cameras as the snakes crawl up her arm, and later in 12 she's wearing a snake bangle. Obviously, her and Coryo's relationship falls apart when she realizes he killed Sejanus (and therefore, could easily kill her) and she can't trust him, and she flees. I'm actually really glad they kept the mystery in, where we just don't know if she survived and fled north, or if he killed her.

Tom did a great job with Coryo, and showing how he can be cold and calculating, but at the same time that he is a human being - he has emotions. Coryo chose to be evil. This is his villain origin story. Tom's acting when he cries over the photo of him and Sejanus, and when he's quietly contemplating whether to kill Lucy Gray in the forest were phenomenal. It is extremely difficult to translate Snow's inner thoughts to the screen, and I think Tom did a really good job with it.

Viola Davis, of course, did an amazing job at showing the complete psychopathy of Dr. Gaul. I don't think I need to say much more on the topic really.

I love the Retro-futuristic design choices for the technology, the architecture, etc.

Wovey, Reaper and Coral broke my hearts in the game. Wovey just wanting to go home, Reaper showing the humanity of all the tributes with his gesture, Coral begging Lucy Gray ("I can't have killed them all for nothing").

On that note I really really like how in this film we got to see District 4 being part of the ruthless careers - the first films left out that District 4 are also careers, so it was nice to see the brutality (but also humanity as I mention above) that these tributes can have.

In Sejanus and Marcus we likewise got to see that District 2 is not full of Capitol pets willing to kill at a moment's notice. Both refused to be a piece in anyone's games.

[betaorionis-fr]

NotN time! changed my avatar on site to Gestalt #57330955, she/they, at the start of this month. This mortician has studied a wide array of burial rites from across various territories.

[image: a female pose Nocturne with Coal Skink and Spruce Blend, wearing Coral Crown, Obsidian Roundhorn, Sanddune Rags, Greenskeeper Treeshroud, Wise Bonecarver's Wings and Claws, Unearthly Onyx Pendants, Onyx Seraph Tail Bangle, and a Murkmirth Halo. Also wearing Skin: Lost Time. /end id.]

[agrabahheir]

Jasmine Ahmadi is based on Princess Jasmine from Aladdin. She is a 29 year old human, lawyer, and uses she/they pronouns. She has no powers. Biography found here

Jasmine is an extremely strong willed woman, who knows exactly what she wants from this world. She is fed up of living under the rules of a male dominated society and wants to break the cycle and escape the marital duties thats expected of her. She wants to see the world beyond the palace and find a real true love, or at least connect strongly enough with a person to think shes in love. She wants danger, excitement, respect and most importantly she wants to be seen as a person, and not a wife. 

head cannons

Jasmine enjoys a lot of quiet downtime. Anything from reading, to art, to cooking. A lot of her past times can be done in solitude and she often forgets to check back in with the real world after spending an evening disconnected from everyone. 

Jasmine loves to wear bright colours and strong jewelry even at court. Many of her skirts and blazers can be rich shades of teal, amethyst and coral. She prefers thick golden earrings, sparkling jewels of all colours and think bangles. Though shes not opposed to accepting more dainty types of accessories. 

Jasmine is fiercely independent and does not rely on anyone else (even if she probably should.) She pays her own bills, works harder than anyone else at her firm and claims she does not need a lover to feel adequate. (But they are welcome to stay the night if they'd like to.)

Jasmine adores animals of every kind and is vegetarian. She would never harm an animal and would raise hell to protect them from any human who would wrong them. She often spends time at volunteering Elsa's animal shelter. 

Even though Jasmine grew up in a conservative environment with very little human companionship, she can be the life and soul of the party. She loves to dance and mingle, and is always out looking for her next adventure. 

Jasmine understands what its like to have a person reduced to a single moment in their lives. Helpless to the rules surrounding them that was no doubt, created for that reason in the first place. Its because of this that she works so hard, fighting until the very last moment for her clients. She believes everyone deserves freedom, and she will help whoever needs it to find their voice. 

the basics:

name: jasmine ahmadi age: 29 zodiac sign: virgo gender: cis female pronouns: she/her sexuality: bisexual one good trait: tenacious one bad trait: ill tempered

habits:

one bad habit: nail biting one good habit: exercising every day one habit they can’t break: going to bed earlier one they’ve broken: feeling sorry for herself what they’re afraid of: failure when so much is at stake

what they prefer:

coffee or tea? tea showering in the day or night? night taking baths or taking showers? taking baths tv or movies? movies writing or reading? reading platonic or romantic love? romantic iced tea or lemonade? lemonade ice cream or smoothies? ice cream cupcakes or cake? cake beach or mountains? beach

favorites:

song: band: outfit: place: memory: person:

wanted connections

roommates:

ex's on good terms:

ex on bad terms:

best friends:

close friends:

frenemies: