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viviennevermillion · 2 years ago

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Al-Haitham and the arts

notes: ever since I saw the akademiya's stance on the arts I had this idea. seeing al-haithham as someone from the akademiya slowly growing to appreciate art especially in relation to his (artist!)s/o seemed like such a sweet scenario

contains: al-haitham x gn!reader

warnings: none

A l - H a i t h a m

Like many people who followed the Akademiya and as one of the most rational people you ever met, Al-Haitham struggled to find merit in the arts. Whether it was music, dance, painting, writing, theatre....he thought it was a waste of his time.

That was until he met you

You loved all these things and Al-Haitham, despite not knowing it yet, loved you. He was unsure of his feelings, trying to stay rational at all times and not ever expecting himself to fall in love with someone. He never bothered looking into love or putting a label on his feelings because he thought that they were distracting him. Yet he knew you had become important to him.

Once you gave him a Radiant Spincrystal with music you liked and told him it was a gift for him. "Oh...", he goes and then looks up to you, "why?"

He tells you that he doesn't listen to music and that he thinks it distracts the scholars but you insist the music is good and Al-Haitham realizes you're passionate about this so he'll listen to it and instead focuses on studying what makes music enjoyable for people. But when he sees you express emotions, sometimes he thinks of these songs and realizes how much they remind him of you.

So he finds himself listening to them when he misses you. When you've been traveling or busy with work. And it makes him feel a little closer to you.

If you show him poetry (either written by you or from a book) he struggles to understand the meaning since they're full of metaphors and also can mean different things for different people. So he's like "I don't really get this." "This is how I feel when I read your papers", you argue. He looks at you with a dead-serious expression: "I can explain them to you again if you'd like to." "No need, I'm good."

If you like to draw he would sit down next to you and glance over your shoulder, his cheek occasionally touching yours. He'd see you draw something and he comments on how concentrated you appear and you're like "well, art takes a lot of focus and technique as well" and Al-Haitham takes a sketchbook and gives it a try. He tries to draw the big tree in Sumeru City and is frustrated when it comes out looking like a squashed potato

Definitely has a new-found respect for your art now

The first time you took him to watch a play he paid attention the whole time and was entertained but he kept asking afterwards why the protagonists made such terrible decisions. You chuckle: "Well....they were in love. Love can make you irrational sometimes."

He nods and is like "Yes, that's how I feel with you." Completely calm.

You almost spit out your drink

For Al-Haitham you knowing about his feelings is not a big deal at all. He knows love can make people act differently than usual and he doesn't want you to wonder about his behavior.

"I- I like you as well", you reply and hold his hand in yours. He looks at your intertwined hands wordlessly and curiously but feels warmth in his chest.

When you ask him whether he'd like to be your significant other he tells you he needs to give the matter some thought and evaluate the pros and cons. Very romantic.

Comes back a few days later and tells you he'd like to engage in a committed relationship with you. He's unsure what to do next so you take the initiative and ask him for a kiss.

Kisses and affection makes Al-Haitham flustered and god he's not used to that at all. He loves it though. He's like "do it again please."

If you write stories or lyrics or poems etc., after getting together with you, Al-Haitham tries his best to get to know your interests more so he dedicates an afternoon to reading your works. You come home to find him at your desk, fiddling with a huge folder and your creations. "What are you doing there, love?", you ask and raise an eyebrow. Al-Haitham doesn't look up. "I am sorting them alphabetically", he explains and you chuckle and pull him closer to you by his arm.

"How about we cuddle instead?", you suggest and wrap both of your arms around his torso and trail kisses down his neck. He can feel goosebumps on his arms. "But I haven't finished sorting the-"

You interrupted his sentence by kissing his lips tenderly. Al-Haitham melts into your touch and presses you closer against him, kissing back passionately and letting out a sigh. You won him over this time. Spends the rest of the evening enjoying your affections and letting you kiss him for as long as you want to. He even puts on some of the music you showed him.

You ask him for a dance. "This isn't an occasion people usually dance in", he remarks and you just tell him you'd love a dance with him. He doesn't understand why but hell would freeze over before Al-Haitham would say no to something as simple as a dance to make you happy. He loves seeing that smile of yours so much.

He has never danced before though, so he steps on your feet a couple of times. You teach him to the best of your abilities and Al-Haitham is always up for learning new things. He even continued trying to draw after his first attempt.

In the end he understands a bit better why you like this because he gets to hold you close

He smiles and kisses your forehead and your cheek. "I love you", he reminds you and squeezes your hand.

But as soon as you go grab some food or take a shower he will go back to finish his folder

Overall he's way more perceptive of the arts now that he's with you. He listens to your favorite songs because they remind him of you. When he hears street musicians, he makes a mental note to take you to see them later, looking forward to that smile of yours that he adores so much. He gives mora to street performers now and takes home flyers from the theatre that he used to throw away when they were handed to him. He tries to improve his drawing skills so he can draw something beautiful for you (he has a long road ahead of him). He also considers taking you to a festival so the two of you could dance there together.

He tried to write a short story once. Titled it "A day in the life of the Sumeru Rose" and it just came out like a biology paper. Actually it pretty much was a biology paper. He gets a kiss for effort.

#genshin impact #al haitham #alhaitham #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x reader #sumeru #genshin impact headcanons

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glowingbadger · 3 years ago

Note

Can I pls get some Yuri and Felix modern au with reader nsfw and SFW content?

I'm so hyped to work on the handful of modern AU requests I have lol let's do iiiiit~ Oh, and if you want the base premise I had in mind for each of these lovelies, Felix is here and Yuri is here <3

Yuri, Felix x GN Reader - modern au headcanons

SFW (nsfw below the cut)

Yuri:

- dating Yuri is honestly a lot of fun. He'll always have some hole-in-the-wall restaurant he wants to try with you, or a strange, artsy little shop he's been meaning to look into. Plus, at half of the places you go to together, he "knows a guy" who gets you a great deal, or a reservation when they were supposedly fully booked, or some other perk. He somehow always knows of a new art exhibit, or a classic movie screening somewhere nearby, so you'll never be without some way to spend an evening together.

- That said, he can come across as flippant and non-committal. While he's certainly flirtatious, he's not going to drop the word "love" for quite some time into the relationship, and you may find yourself wondering from time to time how serious he really is about you. But the more time goes on, the more you'll grow to understand that this is more of a subconscious self-defense for him. With time and understanding, he'll find ways to assure you of his commitment- but he's always going to need a level of freedom and independence.

- One point of reassurance is that Yuri's friends (our other Ashen Wolves) can immediately tell how different he is around you compared to anyone else. They have a hard time putting it into words, but they'll all assure you that, make no mistake, Yuri absolutely adores you. There's a certain soft, warm smile that he only wears when he talks about you, and he fusses about your comfort and safety in a way he's never come close to with another. Plus, he may have blackmailed or threatened a few people who were rude or forward with you... not that you'll ever find out about this.

Felix:

- he's very cat-like in how he chooses to show his affection. He'll almost never verbally express it, and to many, he comes across as cold. But if you know what to look for, the signs are incredibly obvious. The mere fact that he goes out of his way to just be near you, the fact that he'll jump to your defense the moment someone dares to give you a hard time, small gifts that he'll give with a carefully neutral, "It's not a big deal, it just seemed like the kinda thing you'd like."

- Once you've been together for a bit though, he's extremely physically affectionate in private- only in private, mind you. Alone in your dorm or apartment, he's very cuddly, holding you close to him at any chance he gets and resting his chin on your shoulder, or nuzzling against your neck. Sometimes he doesn't even realize he's doing it, but he'll run a hand along your back or your waist when he moves by you, or his thumb will rub little circles along your thigh when you're sitting together. Don't call him out on it though- he'll lurch away immediately and be too shy to touch you for an hour or two.

- His friends definitely know he's developed a thing for someone very early on. He tends to be notorious among his friends for never checking his phone or responding to messages, and when he does respond, it's in five words or fewer. Once he's started getting close to you though, he keeps his phone in his hand while he's hanging out with the other Blue Lions, glancing down at the screen every ten seconds, and completely impossible to communicate with when he's thinking of what to send you when you do message him.

NSFW 18+ v

Yuri:

- I feel like I keep coming back to this with Yuri, but he's a big fan of teasing, or even outright sex in semi-public and risky locations. He'll absolutely finger/jerk you off in the back of a movie theater (or traditional theatre, for that matter), leaning in to murmur against your ear, "go ahead and moan for me, babe- show everyone here how good I make you feel..." He'll also totally send you lewd photos of his body when he knows you're with friends or family.

- Yuri owns an impressive range of toys, and can't wait to try out every single one with you. You're a sinfully gorgeous sight working a fleshlight or a cockring down onto his length, and he gets a bit of a "corrupting" thrill out of introducing you to something you've never tried before. Goddess help you if you have a class with him- he'll push a small vibrator inside of you before a lecture one day, then sit a little ways away from you and fiddle with the remote in his pocket. Once class wraps up and you're finally back in your room together, you're so desperate for him that you practically beg him to fill you with his cock- which is, of course, exactly the result he'd hoped for.

- Funnily enough, the first time Yuri is really 'tender' with you in bed is when you're both coming back from a party with friends. You're both a bit buzzed, and from the way you were dancing together that night, it's obvious that you want each other desperately. But once he has you to himself at last, his hands are slower and gentler than usual, and when he pushes the length of his cock into you and feels you warm and squeezing so nicely around him, he moans unabashedly, murmuring, "Damn, you're so good to me, Y/N... I love you so much, it drives me fucking insane..."

Felix:

- he's the type to feel most comfortable initiating sex when you're just relaxing in one of your rooms together. In the middle of a movie or playing video games together- or even just sitting quietly and studying together on his bed- he glances over at you and it just hits him that you're his, you chose him, and damnit he's just so crazy into you. He leans over and kisses you without a word, then slides his tongue past your lips, pulling you closer until you can very evidently feel that he needs you now.

- His roommate (Sylvain) is quite the renowned flirt on campus, and likes to tease Felix by openly hitting on you in front of him. All three of you know that it's genuinely in jest, and that Sylvain would never push things TOO far... but that doesn't stop Felix from fucking you extra hard and deep once you have the place to yourselves again. He's generally not very vocal during sex, but if his insecurities have been prodded a bit, he'll lift your legs into a mating press and pound his cock into you, groaning out, "tell me you're mine, Y/N. C'mon- again, louder-!"

- Overall, isn't much one for intimacy in public places- but once or twice, you'll encounter a bit of an exception. Gym dates with Felix are generally common and comfortable enough, and he's actually very helpful in improving your technique and efficiency when working out. But he won't let on for quite some time that it also turns him on immensely to see your body moving like this, and the scent of your sweat and pheromones drive him near feral. If it's late enough at night and there's no one else to overhear you, he'll drag you into one of the changing room showers and fuck you breathless against the wall, his tongue dragging along your neck and his hands groping every inch of you he can reach.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #yuri leclerc #felix hugo fraldarius #fire emblem smut #yuri x reader #felix x reader #fire emblem imagines #modern au #fire emblem headcanons #spicy headcanons #feh

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writing-in-april · 4 years ago

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Manicured

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Spencer finally lets Reader do his nails.

A/N: Another short cute fic here for my twenty-sixth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April!! I wanted to make it short but sweet- it’s based on this request (this is not my first fic with Spencer with painted nails- check out on my MGG masterlist Painted Nails if you are over 18) Side note someone recently stole my work- please do not upload anything of mine to another site without my permission. Feel free to leave an ask in my inbox here (I promise I don’t bite) Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Nothing 🥰

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.2k

It wasn’t often that Spencer and I had a day to ourselves, even an hour sometimes felt like a rare occurrence. Today, there was no case, no bad guys to be chasing, and there was even no paperwork to be completed. You were sat on the bed peacefully with Spencer, not daring to point that out out loud as it would obviously jinx it.

“Can I paint your nails?” You absentmindedly asked while fiddling with Spencer’s fingers in your grasp. You didn’t expect a response right away, or any at all as you had been asking to paint his nails for a while. Everytime he always said no, maybe later. So, you kept asking until he said yes.

Today seemed like a random day for him to finally agree, but Spencer tended to get you by surprise often. You almost bolted up in surprise when he simply replied, “Yes.”

Now you were sitting across from him, his hand in yours and a towel placed underneath to collect any spills. Eagerly you started immediately, already having the perfect design in mind for him. Using the brush to swipe over his nails, you then coated his nail in purple colored polish. It was his first experience having polish on his fingers.

Naturally he was intrigued staring down at you intently with his tongue slightly peeking out from his lips, like he was putting all his effort into analyzing exactly what you were doing. Just as you finished that finger he said, “This is so fascinating, you have such control over the brush.”

That had made you burst out into a fit of giggles, his tone making manicuring nails sound like the most serious thing in the world. “Practice makes perfect.” Was all you could manage to say as you tried to hold back your laughs and continue your job.

Eventually you finished his first hand, it already looked like a masterpiece to you, accentuating Spencer’s features in a striking way. He of course continued to stare down at them like he was trying to somehow see each molecule of the polish and understand how it dried on the nail so perfectly.

“I don’t think you’ll figure out all there is to know about nail polish yet by staring at it.” You said as you moved to his thumb on his left hand while he looked at his finished right.

“No, I’ll need to read some books for that.” He replied while his focus was still completely on the nails that were covered in shiny lacquer. Until he then looked up to ask you with eager eyes, “Do you have any books on it?”

“No, I don’t Spencer- I’m not a nail tech.” You laughed out once again, but found it very endearing that he thought you might have some.

“We’ll have to go to the library for that then.” Some people would say the internet would be the best bet to learn about this, Spencer always learned best by books however, and despised all technology for the most part. You then finished up with the design on his pointer finger, immediately going to the next to repeat the design on a new nail.

It was a call, of course from Spencer’s work phone, suddenly interrupted your progress on his nails. You hoped it wasn’t another case you’d both get whisked away on. He picked up the phone with his right hand, which was already completed, but still drying. Carefully with extreme precision, he answered the call and brought it up to his ear, making sure he didn’t smudge any of your hard work.

“Hello- this is Dr. Spencer Reid.” His voice had switched into his purely professional mode, while you continued to add the finishing touches to the matching design. You did make an effort to speed up the process in case he had to up and leave, though you did wish you could’ve taken your time like with his opposite hand.

“Hey- kid check who’s calling before you answer. It’s me, we have a case.” You could faintly hear Morgan’s voice come through the phone and you had to fight a groan when you heard the end of his sentence. Seems like you both were already jinxed.

“Y-yeah, ok Morgan we’ll be there in about 20.” He was now squinting down at his watch, hunched over you almost hitting your head in the process while you tried to finish up the last nail.

As soon as he hung up you were just about finished with the last little bit of your design that was a range of Spencer’s favorite color purple with some dashes of black and grey. It would certainly match most of his work clothes he normally wore, you hoped he’d keep the polish on.

“Done!” You shouted triumphantly at the last swipe of clear polish, sealing in your art. When he peered down at the finished hand curiously another pang of worry that he’d want to immediately wipe it off shot through you. “Are you- going to keep it on for work?”

He looked at you incredulously, and then completely squashed your worries with his sweet words, “Of course I’ll wear it to work, it’s perfect and- you did this for me.”

—

“Reid- what is on your nails?” Morgan clocked them as soon as Spencer entered the bullpen with you. He had walked in with pride, not necessarily flaunting them, but certainly not hiding them. And, when Morgan pointed them out he jutted out his fingers in pride, showing off the pretty polish that had by now dried. Though it had been a challenge for him to get all his clothes on, he didn’t end up getting them smudged thanks to you.

“It’s nail polish? Have you never seen it before Morgan?” Spencer quipped at him which seemed to have taken Morgan by surprise as his eyebrows raised up high.

Any answer Morgan could give to him was swallowed up by the giddy voice of none other than Penelope Garcia, “Oh. My. Gosh. Spencer got his nails painted!”

“Y-yes I did!” He withered a bit under the attention as he was not used to it. He bounced back quickly when he realized she wasn’t going to make fun of him.

“Where did you get them done they’re amazing?” Penelope was now holding up Spencer’s hand, and the congregation grew as more members of the team arrived to get a look at his nails. Little did everyone know who was the real artist that did them, and Spencer was happy to correct her with the real answer.

“Actually, Y/N did them.” Penelope almost immediately shifted her focus back on you bombarding you with questions on your technique. Spencer happily played a hand model, which you swore could be a career for him in an alternate universe, while you explained everything to the people around you. It was mainly Penelope who was interested, but Emily and JJ really seemed to like your color choice for Spencer saying it was ‘his color’. Even Morgan peered over inquisitively a few times, mainly when your voice jumped higher because of excitement.

“What are you all doing?”

“Looking at Spencer’s nails, Sir. Y/N did them!”

“Are you sure that’s a very professional look, Spencer?” Hitch’s hard face was difficult to read as always, you couldn’t tell if he was about to demand he take it off right away or not. He hadn’t seemed to mind when you came in with nail art on, or Penelope, you hoped this would be no different. When his lips that were almost always pressed into a thin line turned upwards you were taken aback, and even more so at what he said next, “Looks good- you’re really getting better at your manicuring skills.”

Ask Me Anything

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All Works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @spenxerslut @boxofsparklingmuses @multixfandomwriter @takeyourleap-of-faith

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99 @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat @anaagraceeberr @ashcakes1918 @reid-me-a-story @cosmic-psychickitty

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#spencer Reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler fluff #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #mgg #matthew gray gubler x reader #30 fics in 30 days

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wolf-and-bard · 4 years ago

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Proper Procedures for Wooing Witches

for @littoraly-art because you are amazing and I already said this, but I hope you have an awesome birthday <3

Pairing: Yennefer/Jaskier

Word Count: ~2.2k

Rating: T, some explicit language

„My darling Yennefer,“ Jaskier calls out as he swoops into his Oxenfurt apartment with a flat carton wedged under his arm. It already nicked the lavender mesh overlay of his newest doublet, but for once, he absolutely cannot be bothered by that. It’s too nice of a day. “Hello?” He kicks off his shoes.

High noon’s just gone by and Jaskier doesn’t expect Yen to be up yet – which means she will hex his ass if he wakes her. His giddiness outweighs his fears though, heart warming, as he takes in the cluttered entryway. Several pairs of shoes are strewn about, his and hers mixing on the ground. Yen’s all look like they could double as a lethal weapon and are some variation of black and white (though one pair is tinged brown from blood that crusts the bottom, he doesn’t want to know). It’s awfully domestic, a product of the temporary living situation they are in.

When Yen requested to use his rooms for a week or so, she explicitly asked for Jaskier not to be there, but, well, he is weak, he wants her, he couldn’t have stayed away if he tried. Yen’s been snippy from the moment he welcomed her with open arms and the prospect of sharing a bedroom, snippy to the point of grumpiness. That’s fair, Jaskier supposes. It’s also fair that she slips out at the most random times of day, coming back only when Jaskier’s gone to the academy for lectures or the pub for drinks with his colleagues. All fair and good. He catches her about once a day which is more than he can say for most of the year. Fair, yes. Nice, even though Yen is rarely, if at all, impressed with his affection for her. A bard can dream.

“Yenny,” he shouts again and whistles to himself as he slides through to the main room. To his surprise, she lounges at his dinner table by the window, one hand curled around a steaming mug, the other holding up one of his most beloved poetry collections (not only because he wrote several of the entries). Her hair falls in rich raven curls that cover her chest, barely concealed by the sheer black dressing gown she wears. It’s the only thing she wears, Jaskier notices, gulping heavily. Yen doesn’t look up from her reading, her lips are pursed and her tone clipped as she replies.

“For every time you call me that, bard, your balls will grow the tiniest fraction until, one day, they will explode, never to grow back.”

Jaskier considers it. Directs his attention downward. They do feel a bit strange, don’t they? But that’s only because he’s thinking about them. Right.

“I shall not be fooled,” Jaskier says, grinning. “But if you so insist, ‘beloved’ will do just as well. I brought you a gift.” Brushing past his dusty bookshelves and cluttered desk, he struts towards the table and drops the carton on it. It lands with a thud and swirls up more dust – how is it this dusty already, Jaskier could swear he cleaned the place, like, last month?

Yen licks her finger to turn the page which makes Jaskier laugh out loud. He rounds the table to glance over her shoulder, but immediately has to retch. There, catching Yen’s precise attention, is Valdo’s vomit-inducing sonnet about his first time taking a tumble with what Jaskier assumes was a professional. It has to be, no self-respecting person would bed the man free of his coin. Jaskier makes a mental note to spread another rumour about Valdo and various sexual diseases, then plucks the book from her hands and lets it drop to the table. She sighs softly under her breath and allows him to put a hand on her shoulder. Is that… does she lean into him? The tiniest bit? Oh, dear.

“That better not be a dress,” Yen says, reaching out. Her fingertips trace the edge of the carton as if she’s in deep debate on whether to pop it open. This is a game they’ve been playing excessively, him bringing her gifts, her making a show of whether to accept them or not. On the few occasions that Yen invites him for a drink or gives the acoustic properties of his lute a small magical boost, Jaskier fails to reciprocate her cool attitude. He’s too in love to feign indifference and it’s not like she would believe him either.

“If we’re using dress in terms of the precise cut it implies then no, no dress,” he replies, thumb rubbing her skin through the slippery material of the gown mostly to work through the tightness in his throat. It hurts sometimes because this farce makes him think she doesn’t want him. Hell, most things Yen does are aimed at making him think she doesn’t want him. But then there are fractions of admittance like this, like when her gravity shifts towards him or he finds her in his rooms, barely dressed, that make him think there might be more there. Jaskier simply has to practice patience.

“Julian, do I seem like a woman easily impressed with shallow gifts of clothes? In case you hadn’t noticed, I have a very particular style.”

“Oh, I noticed. Trust me, Yenny, you are very much one of a kind,” he replies, mesmerized by her fingers dancing on the cardboard. She loses no time in jabbing back.

“And yet you revert to common courting techniques? That’s pathetic and you know it.”

“Bold of you to assume I am courting you.”

“Bold of you to claim you are not. If I remember correctly, the last time Geralt was with us you got drunk off your ass and asked him for his permission to woo me. Which was sweet but not at all his place to allow. Then you continued to exert yourself into my life on every possible occasion with flowers and picnics and awful love songs. How else am I going to interpret all this?” Yen asks, craning her neck to look up at him from under dark lashes. Gods, she is gorgeous.

“Touché. But do not think I would waste the efforts of my best tailor on just anyone. This is advanced courting, dear.”

“I fail to see its distinguishing qualities.”

“The difference is that these clothes are hardly a gift and more a means to an end.” Jaskier winks which has her eyes narrow, fall back to the carton.

“You want to take me somewhere” Yen asks and, of course, she untangles his intentions immediately.

“Not just somewhere. My cousin’s forwarded me an invitation to a ball put on by some countryside nobleman or other. His work keeps him in Kerack so I’m to go in his stead. That is to say, I’d hoped you would go dancing with me.”

Yen looks up once more and Jaskier starts a little. He will never get used to the vibrance of her violet eyes, how they see through him. Once, she said it took no effort at all to pick at his thoughts, that she always feels as though he’s screaming them right at her. So, he does.

Please, he thinks, mouth twitching into a soft smile. Please, just this once. It would mean the world to me.

Yen huffs a small laugh and shakes her head, then draws the box towards her. Inside, she finds a slim-cut blouse made from the finest black cotton in the city, complete with white lace trim down the front and flaring out at the cuffs and collar. With it, Jaskier had the tailor make a white corset belt and a pair of deep black pants that have applications of the same lace. It would look precarious, almost edgy, on anyone else, but on Yen… the thought alone makes Jaskier’s chest tighten with adoration.

“Jules, this is beautiful,” Yen murmurs as her fingers trace the line of the seams on the blouse. Jaskier puts his other hand to her shoulder and holds on for dear life as his ear twitches. Was that? Did she just? Oh, how he itches to make a quip about the nickname. Because it’s funny, yes, but it also gives him palpitations. He feels like a lovesick puppy trying to befriend a wild cat. Which also means that any violation of trust can ruin what they have. It’s just so fucking precious, this whole affair, and if he were on the outside of it, he would squeal in delight and write a whole novel about it. He still might.

“I’m glad you like it. And it will look absolutely stunning on you. You will look stunning in it. Ah, not implying that you don’t usually look stunning. What I am saying is, the other attendees will be stunned.”

“You’re ridiculous… and stupid too. Are you certain you want to take me to the ball? I’m not exactly popular with the local nobility.”

“Quite the tragedy,” Jaskier says and because he feels daring, he bends down and kisses the top of her head. Then, he saunters over to the stove, pours himself a mug of tea and takes the seat next to her. “And yes, I am certain. In fact, there is nothing I’d love more. Let the people talk.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Yen says on another sigh. “Not about what they say or think or do.”

“Which is part of what makes you so damn sexy.”

Yen rolls her eyes and folds the clothes back into the carton.

“These are lovely, but I will not wear them to the dance,” Yen says. Which means she will go with him at least. It’s not enough, Jaskier is dying to see her wear what he picked out, dying to show the world that such a brilliant woman would choose to spend the evening with him. Most of all, he wants to make her happy. “Trust me on this. You have a reputation to worry about and bringing me along already risks that. Bringing me along in that can and will mess with your career.”

“Trust me, when I say that it won’t matter. I’m already famous and folk love to gossip about famous people. Probably more than they love my songs. I could imagine worse truths to be spread about me. Besides, didn’t you just say you don’t care what people think about you? Why then would you worry about what people think about me?”

"Well I never," she says, but her lips soften into a smile and her hand rises to fiddle with her pendant. Jaskier gently pries it off and brings her knuckles to his lips.

"I don't care either," he whispers. "I just want to go dancing with you."

"I'll portal to my rooms in Kaedwen and get one of my old dresses.” Her face is all smiles, but an edge has stolen into her voice which makes her sound forlorn, sad even, and her eyes flicker over to the folded clothes in the box. Jaskier’s throat tightens.

"Why are you so stubborn? It’s obvious you want to wear them. You don’t need to start giving a fuck now.”

"I'm trying to do something for you here, Julian. I don't usually go out of my way to attend stuck-up parties with peacocks such as yourself."

“Please,” Jaskier says. He still holds her hands in both of his and because he has no shame, and because this really does mean the world to him, he sinks off his chair and onto his knees before her legs. Yen’s eyes widen a fraction. “For me.”

-----

They dance. Oh, how they dance. Jaskier always considered himself a great dancer, he has music in his veins and has flirted and whirled his way through every ball room and banquet hall on the Continent, and it’s clear that Yen is no stranger to this art either. They are exuberant, relentless, they laugh and pirouette and demand their ground, much to the detriment of those with lesser skills. The lack of a dress doesn’t subtract from their flair, if anything, it allows for a broader range of motion

"The only way we could draw more eyes is if we'd brought Geralt along,” Yen giggles. Fuck. She’s so carefree it brings tears to Jaskier’s eyes.

"Gods no," he laughs. "He would ruin all the fun with his growling and brooding. If you're looking for more attention however..."

"Jules-"

Jaskier twirls her and, in that motion, catches her around the waist and dips her low, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips which are parted on a yelp. Before he can tug her up again, her hands come forward to cup his face and she presses into him, grins into the kiss.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous,” she whispers.

“Admit it,” Jaskier drawls as he brings her back upright and they fall into an easy basic waltz, closer to each other than the dance strictly necessitates. “You love me.”

“That is awfully presumptuous of you.” But she laughs, and kisses his cheek, and Jaskier thinks that maybe one day, she will. “Don’t bet on it, bard.”

#the witcher #witcher #jaskier #yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #yennefer x jaskier #yenskier #I'll reblog with ao3 link later #ficlet #my writing #fluff

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literaticat · 3 years ago

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Is is typical in a contract for the picture book writer to have full control over the illustrations? I recently sold a picture book (no agent) but I was in total disagreement with the illustration of my title character. It is not in my contract that I have any say in the end. Just a bad contract? Or typical?

In traditional publishing, it is not typical for the writer of a picture book to have any control at all over the illustrations. I understand that this might be confusing or frustrating if you are a type-A personality and have some very specific vision in your brain. Sorry about that.

The exceptions would be if the author and illustrator are the same person, or very close collaborators who developed the book together.

The usual way it goes for people who are selling text-only though, is you sell it to the publisher, and they find an illustrator, and the illustrator has freedom to interpret the text the way that they want to interpret it (with guidance from the publisher, etc).

Though this is rarely a contractual obligation, the publisher will usually ask the author to contribute their ideas for the "look" of the book, any very specific things that *need* to be in it (if it is non-fiction set in a certain time or place for example, the author will probably want to provide some ideas for reference photos that THEY used, etc).

The author will probably be given the opportunity to contribute potential ideas for illustrators, or help choose from a list that the publisher creates the artists/styles they like best. They will also get shown art in-progress, sketches, etc -- and there will be time to chime in, and especially to fix actual mistakes (like, "this sign is supposed to be in Yiddish but it's in Chinese!" -- "this kind of car wasn't invented yet!" -- "this squirrel is twice the size of the fox!") -- but those notes will be given to the editor, NOT the illustrator directly.

They don't want you to HATE the illustrations, obviously. But ultimately, the illustrator needs room to breathe.

(This is why we ask for very minimal art notes -- Illustrators are not just "drawing a picture of what the words say" -- ideally, they are creating a whole world. They need freedom to interpret in their own way and add the funny little nuances that great illustrators do, that hopefully enrich the world far beyond what the words on the page say, and take a text from good to great. If you are dictating what every page is "supposed to" look like, you are choking their creativity.)

Typically the author's contact is with the editor, and the illustrator's contact is with the art director, and the editor and art director talk to each other. The author and illustrator are usually strangers to one another, and they are not encouraged to reach out to one another during the process, though sometimes they do develop a friendly relationship, particularly after the book is done and they are promoting it, or if they have multiple books together, etc.

I mean - they CAN reach out, it's not illegal or anything lol - they just aren't actively encouraged to do so.

Why are they not encouraged to be in each other's pockets from the get-go? Because, bluntly, some authors (particularly new authors) are an absolute menace to illustrators and want to fiddle with their work and are a drain on their creativity. It's not just YOUR BOOK once it gets illustrated - it's THEIR book, too.

Let's say you are a professional chef in a Michelin-starred kitchen. Would you like it if the restaurant owner, who doesn't even know how to cook, was standing over your shoulder while you sauté, telling you how to do it and ordering you around? Probably not, it would be pretty disrespectful. The owner is a hugely important member of the team. They chose a beautiful property and created this building and the concept, etc -- we wouldn't even be here without the owner. BUT, the chef is bringing that concept to life using their own talent and technique, and the restaurant would be an empty shell without them and their creations. A great restaurant is a team effort, where every talented participant gets to shine, and the resulting whole is stronger even than the sum of its parts. So is a great picture book.

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hyrule-kingdom-updates · 4 years ago

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Can we get some spare Launo headcannons for July?

Launo sucked big time at knight school when he first arrived—he didn’t exactly have any background help given no one in his family was a knight either. He was basically assigned the equivalent of “equipment manager” during the first few months. And when he did get proper actions with a broadsword or a bow, Launo struggled with footwork and precision and all the minute details of a duel so he often got his ass handed to him.

But one the top kids in Launo’s class thought he was cool anyways—that was, one Arcadius Hartell. Pretty, rich, ace with sword, bow, spear, and anything sharp, and pretty much had no flaws or weaknesses. Launo at first thought the guy was just pitying him, the kid who has never won a single sparring match and consistently put on training dummy duty (that is reattaching their heads when they got lopped off)

So it came as a bit of a surprise when Arcadius came to ask something from him.

“How do you do that?”

Launo turned from the training dummy he was working on. “S-Sorry, what?”

“The...the thing you do. With the...thing?” Arcadius pointed to the needle and thread Launo was holding as he was reattaching the dummy’s forearm. “How do you do that?”

Launo scrunched his eyebrows in confuzzlement. “This is, uh, well. It’s just sewing I guess. If this guy were real I guess it would be stitching, haha...” He patted the dummy’s wood shoulder playfully as if joking with a pal—the dummy immediately tipped over, Launo coughed and stepped in front of the mess to ignore it. Arcadius nodded thoughtfully.

“So, do you have a special technique or something?”

“I mean, not really, it’s just regular old sewing...”

“But I assume you’ve spent years training on the art.”

“I...uh...I guess? My mom taught me.”

“Oh! So it’s like...an apprenticeship...?”

“...Are you under the impression that sewing is some sacred gift that gets passed down to the worthy or something?”

“.........no....”

The two boys just stood awkwardly for a moment longer, Launo studying Arcadius’ face.

“You don’t even know what sewing is do you?”

“O-Of course I do! It’s the...thing.” He made a sword motion with his fingers, as if wielding a tiny blade. “You stab the stuff and it repairs. With the...” Arcadius squinted as he thought for a moment, “...stool...”

“Spool?”

“Yeah! That! So, look, you’re pretty skilled at everything—“

“I am??” Launo took a step back in shock.

“Yeah! You always fix the equipment, and somehow haul around all those weapons, and make us cool lunches—“

“I don’t know, I made Rubeo vomit last week cause I forgot he hates blueberries...”

Arcadius shook his hands. “N-Not the point. And he sort of deserves it. The fact is you’re obviously leagues ahead of the game—“

“I—Actually I wouldn’t say—“

“—so you just gotta teach me everything you know!” Arcadius pumped a fist and closed his eyes. “How could I ever call myself a knight if I don’t even learn the basics of equipment management! Who will mend the wounded holes in my soldier’s pride if I can’t even fix the tears in my uniform! A mountain’s peak is equivalent to the shallow shore if you have no bearing of the heights you soar.”

Launo blinked. “Are you...okay?”

Arcadius scratched his head. “Aha...sorry. That’s a quote from Aria Nori’s newest volume. Guess I was too into the moment there.”

“Oh! The Zora poet! I’ve read her stuff! I haven’t read her latest volume, but my dad often binds her books—“

“Really?!” Arcadius’ eyes were suddenly star struck. “That’s so cool! This is all the more reason you gotta teach me this stuff.” He waved again at the collapsed training dummy. “Maybe start with the beetle and thread.”

“Needle. D-Do you not know what a needle is?”

Arcadius’ eyes glazed over. “...no...oh my gods that’s not gonna be on the test is it?? I’m so screwed—“

“Nonono it’s not, I’m just...” Launo bit his tongue. Now that he thought about it, he never really saw anyone else in his class do mundane house chore stuff. They were far too busy sharpening swords and bragging about their parents or grandparents or great uncles or cousins that totally were war heroes and high ranking political figures. Sewing could just be a Hateno thing, could it..?

“Can’t you just hire someone to teach you?” Launo started. “I mean, I’m super flattered! Just that, I’m not exactly a master at this, so I’m sure there are adults out there that are more accomplished.”

Arcadius hung his head. “I don’t think my dad would let me...Pretty much everything not sword related he just hires someone to do for me. And he’s super picky about what training I focus on.”

“Well it’s not really official training, it could just be a hobby.”

The boy raised an eyebrow, sounding out the word. “H...Hob...?”

“O-OK, just forget that. H-How about...” Launo didn’t meet his eyes as he absentmindedly kicked the dirt. “Y-You like poetry, right? You can come over to my house and look at my dad’s collection. And when we’re there, I can let my mom...” He scrunched his eyes, trying to nail down the words, “...apprentice you? On the...art, of sewing?”

Arcadius’ eyes were wide enough to reflect the heavens themselves. “R-Really?? You’d do that??”

“I don’t see why not. It’ll be after call and,” Launo’s eyes suddenly sparked, “...You can just tell your dad that you’re training me! Say that you were asked to help your fellow classmates cause you’re already so far ahead from everyone else.”

Which isn’t exactly a lie, Launo thought, bitterly.

“Hmm...” Arcadius tapped his chin, before shrugging. “Might have to tweak the explanation to ‘getting extra credit for top grades by tutoring’ cause I don’t know how he’ll feel about me helping the competition.” He articulated the last word with a mocking, adulting tone. Then he held out a hand. “But I think it sounds like a deal! I’ll give you some pointers, and you introduce me to your mentor.”

“My mom.”

“Yeah, that.”

Launo shook his hand, still a bit timidly, given he now noticed that a few other boys in the training yard were watching the prodigy student interact with the glorified janitor boy.

So they both tutored each other: Larc, in the art of knowing what sewing magic was (Larc bringing the most expensive and ornate needle Launo had ever seen, even though Larc claimed he just found it in his father’s closet) and brewing delicious broths (“Wait, you have to stand around this pot for hours and cook this stuff?? I thought you just made soup in a bowl! You know, like how servants take off the silver cover on the tray and the soup is already there?” “We...dont have waiters or anything...so our method of cooking different.”) Meanwhile, Launo was able to make some progress with knight training—keyword, “some.”

“Don’t make your stance so wide.” Arcadius shoved Launo’s back foot with his boot. “Keep your feet closer together, you only want enough distance so that your front foot can hover an inch off the ground while your back foot stays planted. Any further, and you’ll topple too easily.”

Launo adjusted his stance as instructed, and readied the rapier again. He set his jaw. “OK. Come at me!”

Arcadius nodded. He picked up the wooden sword and swung (a bit slowly and wide) at Launo’s side.

Launo immediately shoved his rapier point left to counter his attack, but instead moved with such force and vigor that he practically fell onto Arcadius’ blade.

Arcadius chuckled, dropping the sword and helping Launo up again. “You don’t need to use to much force when you swing. In fact it’s better to work with simple quick movements with any rapier or piercing sword, since the damage is done by the tip, not the weight.”

“S-Sorry...” Launo mumbled as he got up again.

“Don’t be! Oh hey!” Arcadius suddenly went back around towards the pile of weapons and pulled out a claymore. “Actually, maybe a sword like this will work better for you! You won’t have to worry as much about holding back, or being finesse. All the power is in that downward swing—!” Arcadius swung the sword into a nearby log to demonstrate, nearly cutting it asunder.

He offered it to Launo. “And don’t let the size fool you, it’s not actually that heavy. Large weapons still need to let soldiers be quick enough to parry and block attacks.”

Launo turned the claymore around in his hands, studying the blade and handle.

Arcadius gestured to the log. “Well, go on! It’s similar to the grip I taught you with the broadsword, but this time you use your other hand in the bottom to support the weight as it turns on an axis. Try that downward swing I showed you!”

Launo paused for a moment, thinking. Then, he planted his foot down, and swung the claymore down with all his might, aiming for another soon-to-be piece of firewood.

The claymore whistled as it fell, and it cut into the log deep—about halfway. Yet, still not nearly as deep as how Arcadius had done it.

Nonetheless, he was hopping with joy for Launo. “That was awesome!! You did great!!”

He sighed as he left the claymore in the log. “No I didn’t...”

“What are you talking about? That was probably the best blow you’ve done all night!”

“Yeah! And it’s not even a quarter of the damage that you did with your swing!”

“Well, it still took me a while to—“

Launo gestured to the other log. “It’s been how many weeks?? And I’m not even CLOSE to being as good as you, much less being a top student...” He plopped into the dirt and laid himself out like a starfish.

Larc stood over him, confused. “Why would you want to be a top student?”

“BECAUSE I SUCK ASS, DUDE!” Launo held up his arms, exasperated. Larc, on instinct, stepped back and held his hands close to his chest as he fiddled with his thumbs and mumbled an apology. Launo immediately sighed.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound like I’m mad at you. You’re really great, Link. You’re so nice to me and you’re talented and I’m so grateful, but I’m just...” He shifted in the dirt again. “I don’t think I could ever be like you. I’d even dare to say it’s impossible.”

Larc stilled, playing with his thumbs, before daring to step closer and sit in the dirt beside him.

“Can I tell you a secret, Launo?”

He was quiet, but he nodded a yes.

“I think my brother’s a stronger fighter than me.”

Launo furrowed his eyebrows confused, but he continued.

“He just never takes his knight training seriously, because of my father. But I bet if he really tried, he’d be great at it.”

Ah. So that’s what he meant.

“But I AM trying.” Launo whined. “I guess compared to you it doesn’t seem like much but—!”

“Nono! Sorry that’s not what I meant!” Larc quickly cut in. “I just...” He trailed off.

“...There’s a reason I have to be the best.” Larc finally said. He was looking out into the woods, but Launo felt that he wasn’t really looking at anything in particular, maybe deep in thought. “There’s a reason I can’t settle, I can’t rest. It’s really important that I get this all right. And I guess that makes me admirable to most people but...”

He looked down at Launo, still spread out in the dirt. “I didn’t really choose to be a knight, unlike you. I didn’t actually choose to be the best, and I don’t get why so many people do train to be at the top out of their own violation. It really...sucks ass.” He articulated the last part in Launo’s tone, and they both giggled.

“So...I guess that I’m trying to say here is that...” He thought one his words a moment longer. “I think so many people are afraid of trying new things, because they fear not being the best at it, not being at the top. And I suppose ambition is good but...” He tilted his head and shrugged at Launo. “As someone who’s supposedly at the top, I would say I envy anybody that can make progress that their proud of. You choose to be a knight, and you’re training for it out of your own strength and courage. That’s more than I’ll ever have, so you should probably get off the ground and realize that soon.”

Launo’s eyes widened, a bit unnerved by how uncharacteristically blunt Larc was being.

“In my opinion, anyone that aims to be better than everyone is stupid—maybe that’s just me, but...I would think that if I was you, I’d be proud of any progress I made. If I was more skilled than I was yesterday, that’s really all I would care about. Why would I care about being the top of my class? I would kill to just be satisfied with being a better me.”

There was silence as the boys took in Larc’s words. Then he suddenly stood up. “G-Goddess Hylia, sorry I’ve been talking for so long, I didn’t realize how late it was getting.” He went to collect his things. “You can keep the claymore, I think you’d be great at it, just...”

Larc packed his swords and backpack, before turning back to the flopped out Launo. “...I think you’re really cool, Launo. So don’t tap out for my sake—I’m not the person that matters in your training, am I? So don’t give up for any silly reasons like that.”

Launo perked his head up to meet his gaze. While Arcadius was usually serious and controlled during training at school, Larc always seemed to have genuine excitement about swords when it came to him. The bright smile on his face caused his cheeks to warm and he immediately flipped his head back to hide it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Launo!” Larc ran off into the night, a cobblestone streets in the distance swallowing his figure.

“See you...” Launo whispered.

He lay in the dirt a moment longer—his mother would probably berated him for the stains again—when he finally got up and looked at the claymore in the log. He walked up to it and observed it further, it was another a sixth of the way deep. He glanced at Larc’s log, which was nearly split in two, and sighed. Then he glanced back at his own work.

“Well, it’s better than when I first started I guess...” Launo mumbled.

No one responded.

The boy let out a huff, and gripped the sword again in his hands.

“But I can do better.”

By the time Launo was 16 he was finally beating his classmates with ease, specializing in longswords, axes, and hammers. And while he definitely still “sucked ass” in things like archery and lance work—to which some boys still teased him for—he found overtime that he no longer cared about what they thought. They had their strengths, and he had his. And to top it off, absolutely no one in the academy could make a lemon cookie like him. So at least he had the best in show for that angle.

Even years later, after certain incidents transpired concerning House Hartell, Launo always welcomed Larc to his house for “training.” Although after a while, it would be hard to still call it that when a large chunk of time is really just spent running their fingers through each other’s hair.

“But we’re friends, right?”

“Yeah.”

And even years after graduating as part of the top ten in his class and working as a knight, some of his old classmates would tease him for being the “rich boy’s lap dog,” Launo would find that he still really didn’t care—after a punch or two was thrown, of course. He found that his new lack of anxiety and concern heavily stemmed from that night, when Larc had told him about his envy for choice and satisfaction. Thinking back at the memory of his handling with a sword and his happy little smile once made Launo blush so hard his father teased him about it for the rest of his life—his mother claimed he went so red he would fit right in with the tomato stew. One of these days, Launo would pay Larc back for the endless teasing he got from his parents. And pay Larc back he would, indeed.

I mean, he already had the ring.

#hku spoilers #Launo Birch

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cockasinthebird · 4 years ago

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okay!!!! so!!! i guess it’s kind of a prompt, but like steve goes to an art college thing. and he’s suuuper talented, one of the best in his class. and the prof. says that they have a guest to come in for some modelling. and steve is super excite ‘cause he loves doing projects like this. and then the model comes in, covered in a bathrobe, it’s billy. he goes to sit on the stool at the front. drops the robe, he’s completely nude. looks steve directly in the eye and winks! just an idea i had! -🎨

Dear anon, !!!!!!! This took SO LONG, but then again I was flagged and unavailable for like two weeks, and I did not write at all in that time, but as I woke up today to find myself back to normal, I quickly finished what was left, and now 11 pages long, I will post some of it here, then link the rest on my AO3!

My mind went off on this, and I hope it’s as good as I believe, especially what with all the teasing I’ve been doing!

Now, enjoy~

An arts scholarship is not something everyone can brag about, well, almost everyone, or so Steve thought when he got approved for one after his high school teacher encouraged him to apply.

He’s not dumb, or unintelligent, as most people around him will say - the words on the pages just don’t connect right, as if he can’t see what any other person might perceive, and it is reflected on his grades. Math is… fine, the only issue there is a general unwillingness to learn, because rather than doing algebra and figuring out trigonometry, Steve’s talents lie in the stroke of a brush, in the graphite of a pencil, in the black of charcoal.

His mother always encouraged him with a loving hand and a wondrous appreciation for every single little drawing Steve came up with as a child, fueling this intense fire inside of him that only felt relief against paper or canvas. She showered him in materials; endless chalk, a rainbow of watercolors, acrylics, oil pastels, pencils in all shapes and hues, stacks of papers, piles of canvas, even let him paint the walls of his bedroom as far as he could reach.

His father… simply stood and scowled in the doorway. He’s old fashioned, wanted an heir to the Harrington Construction Empire his own father built, not some… artistic little fairy. Steve stopped counting how many of his parents' fights were about him years ago.

And now he’s here, in California, attending college of all things, surrounded by students who, just like him, have devoted their entire lives to the arts. He feels less special, less talented, amongst his peers, where it seems that a third of them have arrived on scholarships, too.

But his teacher, Mr Reynolds, an old man with a long goatee and suspenders, always assures Steve that he is, without a doubt, the star of the class. That he will go far in his life, become world renowned, famous for his works, that in the future art classes will teach about his techniques and colors and soul.

Steve likes to believe it; spends his spare time thinking about what painting of his would be displayed in museums, what the critics will say, what he will wear to the reveal party, what his speech will sound like.

All those thoughts course through his overactive mind whenever he looks at a blank surface, just waiting, begging to be filled with his inspired soul. Perhaps he’s a bit too immodest and vain and arrogant, but he doesn’t really put up a fight against those ideals; never bothered trying to be humble about what is so obvious to any eye, and when every teacher has never offered up anything besides praise, is he to believe they’re all liars?

He looks around at his classmates as they set up in the arranged circle surrounding a single stool in the middle. They all smile at him, greetings exchanged as always, the friendliness of people who you’ve had a few beers with, attended some parties and gatherings together, but never really gotten to know past the surface.

Steve’s just not as social as he used to be, and moving halfway across the country didn’t really help that either. Something changed in him during the last year of high school, but honestly he can’t complain. He goes whenever invited, otherwise he keeps to himself, focuses on his studies, does his homework, a scholarship can only get you so far, and if his grades dip too low, it’s bye bye future.

“All on time for once! Impressive!” Reynolds says with a cheery tone, clasping his hands together with a wide smile as he moves to the center of the classroom. “For today’s live figure drawing practice, we’ll continue working with models and volunteers from all parts of life, and today I’ve managed to convince a hard working, blue collar of a man! William Hargrove, you may take the stage!”

Everyone turns to the stained room divider over in a solitude corner, the usual spot where their models change in and out of clothes and robes, and from behind steps a man dressed in a dark gray bathrobe, adorned with the most gorgeous crown of golden curls, his stubble is scruffy with a more accentuated mustache, and his eyes are of the clearest blue waters Steve has ever seen before.

His breathing pauses for just a moment as he stares at the broad shouldered stranger, caught in a trance - a willing subject to be ensnared by this man’s confidence, walking like he owns the room. Steve doesn’t even realise that he’s staring till he’s met with those heavenly eyes.

Who then winks at him, grin mischievous and aware of what thoughts surge forth in his presence.

Steve’s heart beats like a drum, ramming against his ribs, a heated flush rushing up to tint his ears red, spilling into his cheeks. He can’t help but whip his head back towards his easel with a stare that could burn a hole in the pages before him, restraining himself from gawking further, trying to calm down some.

It’s not that he hasn’t paid attention to other guys in the past, it’s just that he hasn’t cared for that kind of stuff before. Even when he was dating Nancy back in high school he didn’t care enough. But now? This guy? This man?

Nothing more than one simple, flirty look, and Steve’s interest tiptoes over the line of professional into personal, dipping in, testing the waters there.

And when he reaches the middle of the circle, everyone here far too interested in seeing what he’s hiding beneath the robe, he slowly slips it off, clearly revelling in all the attention if the smile he carries is any indication.

Unfortunately, much to Steve’s inconvenience, this William Hargrove is ripped. Jaw strong like a cliffside, biceps akin to perfectly carved marble, formidable pecs covered in chest hair lush like a forest that spreads down abs like rolling hills, Steve’s eyes travels smooth like a stream across the landscape of William’s body, down to his-

He refocuses on the easel in front of him, invitingly barren and pleading for him to ruin the stillness with his own inappropriate curiosity.

“Thank you once again for agreeing to this, Mister Hargrove. You may use this stool here to pose with, or without, it is entirely up to whatever you’re most comfortable with,” Reynolds explains, unhooking a thumb from where he fiddles with his suspenders to accept the robe that William has removed.

“Yes sir,” sounds the response, his voice husky and charming, throaty from years of use.

It tugs further at Steve’s intrigue, oh to hear him laugh, read a book aloud, sing along to whatever reckless music he listens to, probably rock or something abrasive. Steve’s wild imagination goes through it all in the matter of seconds, just to be pulled back when his teacher speaks again,

“We’ll be taking things a bit slow today, six poses with 10 minutes each, let you all get a good feel for Mr Hargrove’s body, really focus and pay attention to how the shadows fall.”

Steve’s convinced the way he swallows hard must be audible, the lump in his throat making a loud splash in the pool of boiling nerves gathered in his stomach, breaking surface tension and stirring up thoughts he hasn’t really bothered with for months, if not a year by now.

Yet here’s this stranger with such undeniable magnetism, taking a seat, naked on a stool, aiming straight at Steve, staring at Steve, smirking at Steve.

Who nervously rakes fingers through his hair, pushing it back and away as to more clearly see his model, noticing how the muscles flex and tense as Hargrove decides on his first pose. The human body is phenomenal to look at, nothing in the world deserves grander appreciation than it, and it’s easy for Steve to convince himself that that’s what this is, an accentuated form of gratitude for the very same shape that Michelangelo used for his David.

Finally William gets settled, on the edge of his seat, one foot on the ground, the other up on the bar between the legs of the stool, elbow raised and bent to bring a hand behind his head, the other relaxed on his thigh. Exposed and raw and muscular and brilliant.

Steve could truly go on and on and on about this Adonis posed all nude before him, face turned slightly to the side, but it is unquestionably clear that the rest of him is aimed directly at where Steve sits, and he doesn’t realise he’s staring again till Reynolds says,

“Ten minutes, everyone! You may begin!”

Keep reading on AO3

#Harringrove #My Writing #Art Student AU #Only Mature for now ;)))#God I went OFF on this one #Anonymous

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musicblogwales · 3 years ago

Photo

Q&A: Gwenifer Raymond Pre-Tour Interview

Music Blog Wales are really honoured to have spoken exclusively with Welsh virtuoso guitar player Gwenifer Raymond before she embark’s out on her brand new UK tour, huge thanks to Gwenifer for agreeing to chat with us and all the best with the upcoming tour dates.

Raymond began playing guitar at the age of eight shortly after having been first exposed to punk and grunge. After years of playing around the Welsh valleys in various punk outfits she began listening more to pre-war blues musicians as well as Appalachian folk players, eventually leading into the guitar players of the American Primitive genre.

She released her sophomore LP ‘Strange Lights Over Garth Mountain’ at the end of 2020 to rapturous response. Her debut ‘You Never Were Much Of A Dancer’ emerged on Tompkins Square to the same response in 2018. She has found herself equally embraced by fans of old-west and equally, by left field/experimental audiences. Appearances throughout the UK and the EU as well as the US marks her out as one to watch.

Q: What part of Wales do you hail from and how has it geographically had an effect on your music?

Gwenifer: I'm originally from a village called Taff’s Well, so just north of Cardiff and at the tip of the Rhondda at the foot of the Garth mountain. I do think landscape can shape music quite a lot, and especially instrumental music. I think my own compositions have something of a folk horror element to them,which seems to me to reflect the overgrown, dark and witchy woods that I recall exploring quite a bit when I was growing up. I think perhaps that lends it somewhat more of the enclosed and gothic mood, as opposed to a more open and pastoral scene that you often hear in guitar songs.

Q: Your going on a UK tour this week, are you ready?

Gwenifer: Yeah I think so. It's been a while since playing a lot of shows on the trot, but I'm excited to be getting back to it. I find when I play the same set over a string of nights the music tends to find itself and evolve a little, so it's often where songs really find their feet. Given that I've not really toured this album properly, and a number of those tracks had never been gigged prior to recording it, it'll be really interesting to hear what happens to them. Q: How will you select songs for your live set?

Gwenifer: I usually choose my sets pretty selfishly along the lines of what I want to play. Invariably it'll be mostly the newest stuff with a few older tracks thrown in. Of course I try to pick tracks that will give the set as a whole a natural and engaging pace and dynamic. The big caveat to all of this of course is tuning: I play in a number of different guitar tunings, and nothing stops a set in its tracks more than spending five minutes tuning your guitar - of course this is unavoidable, but I do try to group tunes together in order to minimise it. Q: Your latest Album is 'Strange Lights......' where and how was it recorded?

Gwenifer: This was recorded in isolation in my basement flat in central Brighton. I was booked in to record in a studio, but of course COVID put a stop to that- so instead I dropped the money I would have spent on the studio on some new mic’s and recorded it myself. I actually did it over a week's worth of evenings (whilst working my day job remotely from home during the day),recording a song or two per night. I spent the following week mixing, so it all came together pretty quickly in the end. Q: Do you have any tips and tricks for the avid home recording artist?

Gwenifer: Learn your neighbours' laundry schedule so you can avoid the rumbling of their washing machine. Beyond that, yeah just find the quietest and most comfortable spot you can in your home, invest in as decent a microphone as you can reasonably afford and just spend time playing with it; placement etc. Also, obviously most people don't have a fully audio-treated room to record in, but you can do a lot by hanging duvets etc. around you in order to absorb reflections. It's just practice really, training your ears to recognise what sounds good,what doesn't and what minor adjustments can be made to turn one into the other.

Q: In your own words how would you describe the music you produce?

Gwenifer: I guess it's just solo compositional guitar, with a gothic folk edge and twinges of early American blues, heavily informed by the alternating thumb technique predominantly used by early folk and Delta blues guitarist players. Q: Do you have any new music in the pipeline?

Gwenifer: I always do, but I'm a very slow writer. I live with a piece a long time before I consider it 'done'. Right now that's as true as ever and I'm working on some stuff which I may even start slipping into sets on upcoming tours. Q: What is your biggest inspiration for writing and staying creatively focused?

Gwenifer: It's listening to other music I suppose - any other sort of music really.To be honest I don't listen to a lot of solo guitar these days so I tend to be inspired by music completely unlike my own. I'm not sure if I'm creatively 'focused' exactly. Perhaps more creatively unfocused but ever so often a song falls out. I don't think there's a solid or consistent methodology that can be relied on for this sort of thing, it's whatever the little devil on your shoulder convinces you to do.

Just about anybody with an interest in the new school of American primitive will tell you that Welsh guitarist Gwenifer Raymond is one of its most promising proponents. “I’ve been blown away by Gwenifer Raymond,” says Jeff Conklin.

Josh Rosenthal agrees: “She’s just a fascinating person—a great example of somebody taking the raw elements [of the style] and making them more personal.” - BandCamp Daily

"Its intricate folk melody is Welsh and Celtic in style but American Old West in practice. The rhythmic patterns mimic the swift dynamics of a fiddle with a country twang. Western music was originally influenced by traditional folk music from England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland; Raymond’s seamless crossover grows from these historically intersecting roots." - Stereogum

UK TOUR DATES

August 27 - Ara Deg Festival – Bangor

September 03 – Larmer Tree Festival – Dorset

September 04 – Maverick Festival – Suffolk

September 07 – Cathedral Quarter Arts Festival – Belfast

September 11 – Down At The Abbey Festival – Reading

September 18 – The Castle Hotel – Manchester

September 19 – The Continental – Preston

September 20 – The Musician – Leicester

September 21 – The Crescent – York

September 22 – Brudenell Social Club – Leeds

September 23 – The Old Cinema Launderette – Durham

September 24 – Café #9 – Sheffield

October 29 – Toy Museum – Brighton

November 12 – King’s Place London Jazz Festival

November 13 – The Wight Bear – Bournemouth

November 14 – MAST – Southampton

Watch: Sometimes There's Blood

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PfLJvXNeY-M

Bleeding Finger Blues

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1pAm0uqkXAI

Full web & label links Weblinks*

https://www.facebook.com/gweniferraymondmusic/

https://gweniferraymond.com/

#Gwenifer Raymond #Interview #Pomona #strange lights over Garth Mountain

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tinkerd · 4 years ago

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Interview with www.achuka.co.uk

See Original post here: https://www.achuka.co.uk/blog/meet-an-illustrator-14-david-litchfield/

Meet An Illustrator 14 – David Litchfield APRIL 17, 2021 BY ACHUKA self-portrait © David Litchfield

ACHUKA is thrilled to have David Litchfield as the 14th guest on Meet An Illustrator, an informal weekend feature introduced this year.. Do visit the backpages to read the responses from previous guests.

The Bear And The Piano, David’s debut picture book, was published just 5 years ago, but he is already established as one of the UK’s leading illustrators and picture book creators. That debut title won Waterstones Illustrated Book Prize in 2016. Much more recently he has come to attention as the cover illustrator for David Almond’s Bone Music:

The Bear And The Piano became a trilogy with publication in 2019 of The Bear, The Piano, The Dog And The Fiddle and, this year, with the third title The Bear, The Piano And The Little Bear’s Concert.

A particular favourite of ACHUKA’s is Lights On Cotton Rock:

His 2021 publishing year kicked off with illustrations for A Shelter for Sadness by Anne Booth

and the paperback edition of Rainbow Before Rainbows by Smriti Halls is published this coming week:

Next month (May 2021) we can look forward to Pip And Egg written by Alex Latimer:

and, as we hear below, there is lot lots more to come.

As a child, what were the first illustrations you remember being pleased with?

I think that it was a drawing of a panda. It was in primary school and we all had to draw one. We then put them all on the wall and I remember feeling a bit arrogant and quietly smug that my panda was definitely one of the best ones on that wall.

Who/what inspired you when you were young?

Again at primary school our teacher sat us all down and read us Where The Wild Things Are. I remember being absolutely blown away by Maurice Sendak‘s drawings and characters and totally felt transported away from the reading mat in that classroom to that dreamy monster island. Mr Sendak and Albert Uderzo were absolutely the two biggest influences on making me want to draw every day.

Who inspires you today?

Still mainly Sendak and Uderzo. But I love finding out about new illustrators. There are an infinite amount of styles and techniques and approaches to drawing and I love being surprised by how different people create a spread or tell their stories. My current 2 favourites are Sydney Smith and Frances Ives. They both have such a free and natural style. They are amazing.

Did you study art/illustration?

I actually studied Graphic Design at Camberwell College of Art. Graphic Design felt like the most sensible career choice in the art world. I loved the course and I met some great people there. But I was really shocked at how little drawing was involved. I think more than anything that course showed me how much I really loved to draw and that I just wasn’t a Graphic Designer.

What is your favourite artist tool/product?

It sounds obvious but a pencil and a sketchbook. My absolute favourite part of a project is when it’s just me, a pencil and a sketchbook and I am just letting the idea develop by scribbling and experimenting and making a mess.

Where do you buy your art supplies?

I have two favourite shops here in Bedford. One is called the Arc which sells all kinds of incredible arts supplies and exotic paints and brushes etc. I also like Coleman’s which is obviously more of a standard stationary shop. But I don’t know, I like their pens. I spend far too much money on pens.

What software/apps do you use?

I only really use Photoshop. I tried to get my head around Illustrator but I’m just not that technically minded to be honest. I have had a play with Pro Create but my kids keep stealing my iPad so I have not had enough time to learn it yet.

What was your first commission?

My first commission happened when I was 13 years old and I drew a poster for a local comic shop. They paid me in comics. My first proper paid commission was with The Beano comic. I think that it was in 2013 or so when the editor Michael Stirling found my drawings online. For a few weeks I drew the illustrations that accompanied a poetry section in the comic. It was amazing to be drawing for a comic I had been in love with for most of my life. I will forever be grateful to that team for giving me that opportunity.

What are you working on at the moment?

I am just finishing drawing a pretty epic book written by Gregory Maguire. After that I’m so happy to be working on another ‘Earth’ book with Stacy McAnulty. I love drawing these books, and I learn so much about our planet too. After that I’m starting a beautiful book with the writer Nell Cross Beckerman which is going to be a total stunner. Towards the end of the year I’m creating artwork for my next author/illustrator book too.

Which is all very exciting. I always feel like I’m being very vague when I don’t give too much info but I’m never sure how much I’m actually allowed to say. What I can tell you is that my author/illustrator book is going to be a Christmas story set in Victorian times.

Twitter or Instagram? Instagram I think. I love Twitter but Instagram just feels a lot friendlier. Also as an illustrator it is a great, visual medium to share work on. I have also found so many new great artists from this site.

Coffee or tea?

I love coffee. But I have had to cut back a lot. I was getting the jitters because I drank it so much. Now I just have two cups a day. And only in the mornings.

Cat or dog?

Oh my goodness Dog. Dog every time. I always had dogs growing up. They were my best friends. We got a dog last summer. I was adamant that my two boys should have a dog growing up. My wife wasn’t that convinced I don’t think but now that we have one she loves her as much as we do.

Grape or grain?

Hmmm, both good, but I would have to say grape.

Sunrise or sunset?

Sunset. I don’t know if it’s a getting older thing but I love sitting in my garden as the sun starts to go down. It’s like a magic time of the day where everything is winding down and becoming peaceful.

What do you listen to when you are working?

Mainly loud rock music. But I’ve also started to listen to a fair few podcasts. My favourite ones at the moment are ‘Pod Save America‘- helps me get my head around American politics, which I can sometimes find quite baffling from time to time- and The Force Center – which is a massively geeky Star Wars podcast which has none of the snark and negativity of other fandom type discussions. I recommend it if you are a Star Wars nerd like me.

Where can we follow you on social media? I’m on twitter: @dc_litchfield Instagram: @david_c_litchfield

I also have a blog at:

tinkerd.tumblr.com

and a Facebook page at

facebook.com/davidlitchfieldillustration

-but to be honest I do keep forgetting to update that one.

#illustrator #illustrator interview #illustration

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keepingupwiththekamados · 4 years ago

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The wind pillar's day off 🌟

Part 1 > Part 2

Giyuu was not lying when he said Sanemi should be bed-bound. He fell victim to a paralytic demon art on his last mission and it's only thanks to his breathing techniques and Shinobu's early intervention that he's managed to avoid permanent damage.

That doesn't mean he emerged unscathed. He's little more than a cripple now. Fine, he can walk a fair distance; but he can't run. He doesn't have the strength to train, but he can summon a quick burst of energy every once in a while.

Not that it matters.

Naturally, Shinobu instructed him to stay in his estate till he recovers. Naturally, Sanemi was pissed.

"Well, what am I supposed to do now?" he remembers asking.

"I don't know. Read a book?" came her offhanded suggestion.

The Updated Encyclopedia of Native Plants glares back at him.

He shuts the cover of the tome with a heavy thunk, and absently impresses his palm upon the embossed title. Genya's been trying to persuade him to read it for a month now - so he can stop accidentally killing their plants, he suspects - and now was as good a time as any to get it done.

It wasn't so bad once he got started, he has to admit. There are whole chapters dedicated to each and every plant native to Japan; its origins, its variants, its medicinal properties, and of course, how to grow them. He can see why Genya is so passionate about this stuff.

Still, Sanemi has his limits. He's exhausted. Two hours had flown by since he started - two hours, and he's barely a quarter way through the tome.

Two hours...

... without interruption?

He fiddles with the thread of the spine as he mulls it over. Oddly enough, he hasn't seen neither hide nor hair of the demons since Giyuu dropped them off.

Suppose he shouldn't be surprised. They seem to be wary of Sanemi - and rightfully so. He stabbed them a couple times after all. Or maybe it was thrice. Or maybe… well, the details are irrelevent. He should be happy that they've finally culminated the self preservation skills to stay out of his way.

There is just one problem.

He's bored.

He didn't expect them to actually listen. He thought they would set out for revenge, because they are evil, spiteful little creatures. He would prefer it if they do violate his rules, actually; to force his hand, to put them in their place. It would be a nice break from this week-long monotony.

Perhaps he should investigate. Not because he's concerned or anything. In fact, he's the opposite of concerned: he's suspicious. What if they're plotting something? They could be waiting for the moment he falls asleep - the moment he slips his guard even just a little - and then they'll strike.

Hah. We'll see about that.

The flame of the oil lamp is extinguished with a quiet hiss. He pads out the library, his feet as light as a draft. It's more out of habit than anything. In reality, there's no point in being subtle - the red demon can probably smell him from a mile away, like the demented sniffer dog he is.

The black demon, however...

A shadow whips around the corner.

He follows.

The demon is quick, but he is quicker. It's only Nezuko. Sanemi cannot tell where she came from, nor where she's headed, but he'll know soon enough. He watches as she swishes down the length of the engawa - leaving a trail of dotted red in her wake.

Sanemi's instincts flare at the sight. It's blood, it must be! The demon must have commited some act of terror while he was holed up in the library. Damnit, he should've kept a closer eye on them! Now he has no choice but to decapi--

Ah, nevermind, it's just adzuki beans.

Sanemi pinches one off the floor with a frown. She'd stolen it from his courtyard. A little weird, sure, but not exactly a sin.

Further on, he reaches the end of his path: the kitchen. The first thing he notices from the other side of the door is the sweet smell of his crushed adzuki beans. They're cooking? What the hell? They don't get hungry, there's no reason for them to mess about in his kitchen. Unless they're trying to piss him off on purpose. He jerks the door open, and opens his mouth, ready to shout-

Except they don't even acknowledge his entry. Their backs are turned to him; huddled together, and bent over something that's hidden from view, and Nezuko giggles, and Tanjirou whispers shush. A ring of stray adzuki beans surround them, and to the side, a pot is sat upon the irori, clumps of rice spilling over the lip.

Sanemi is at a loss.

"Oi... what do you think you're doing?"

Tanjirou's face pops up. He's practically glowing with excitement as he jumps to his feet, and he trots over, Nezuko in tow, the sleeve of his haori masking whatever it is he's holding. It is a nerve-wracking moment. He places himself before the wind pillar. Takes a deep breath. Looks up, eyes twinkling innocence. And he raises the plate above his head.

"Dada!"

A single ohagi.

It is a rudimentary thing. Something tells him that this is one of many attempts that came from the past two hours. But he doesn't understand. Why him?

"Are you making fun of me? Is that it?"

"Mm?"

Tanjirou rocks on his heels, insistent. No, he really is trying to offer up this sad creation. Sanemi eyes it warily. As pathetic as it looks, it does smell rather nice. And he may have forgotten to eat today. And it is his favourite food...

So he snatches the plate. His glare floats from demon to demon as he tries to parse their intentions. Even still his cynicism refuses to let up. This could be a prank, or a poison attempt, or...

... maybe they're just trying to be nice?

In which case.

"Come with me," Sanemi grunts, and he leaves the kitchen.

#obligatory ohagi ft a big fuck you to canon #kny fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi #nezuko #tanjirou #au #twpdo #pipwrites

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years ago

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Humans are weird “Hypnosis”

Hope you guys are already having a great weak :)

BOOK UPDATE: You guys have been asking when my next update on wattpad is going to be within the next week, so don’t worry. My beta readers have chapter three, and I am feverishly working on the chapter after that.

The fairgrounds were alive ad teaming with color. The once deserted terrestrial moon had since been turned into the largest ever recorded outdoor market that had ever existed. The introduction of humans into the GA had brought the universe new and unconsidered ways of selling, buying, and tourism. On all sides humans and aliens alike were demonstrating their artistic craft. There were metal workers, carpenters, sculptures, artists, leather workers, and artists. A few industrious groups had even crossed inter-species borders to collaborate on projects. They had a real tough time pulling Sunny away from a Drev/human blacksmith partnership that created Drev armor in the style of medieval humans and human armor in the style of the Drev, but now after she had purchased herself a helmet, which Commander Vir, Adam, openly admitted looked ‘friggin awesome’, but then again, that was coming from someone who had purchased himself a cape, and insisted upon wearing it because it “made him look fancy.”

Krill tried not to be distracted by the frivolous, but turned out to have a great weakness for a specific vendors art works which depicted surrealist landscapes. Of course, when captain vir pointed out that they travel the universe and often see things just as strange, the doctor pointed out that, this way, he could look at how pretty it was and not worry about how dangerous it was.

They cut a strange group in the crowd, a human, a Drevv, and a Vrul, one wearing a steel- horned helmet, the other a cape, and the third holding a large roll that was almost taller than him.

Technically they were supposed to be here providing security, but out of all the jobs they had been given, recently, this one was surprisingly easy. They met up with another “Patrol” walking down the main thoroughfare and found hat Cannon, sunny’s brother had also purchased himself some new armor.

They walked with each other for a few minutes before a voice caught their attention over the roaring of the crowd.

“COME ON IN, SIT DOWN, AND ENJOY IT BECAUSE I’M ONLY GOING TO BE HERE ANOTHER DAY…. YES YOU THREE.”

Adam lept easily onto sunny’s back peering over the crowd trying to see what it was all about.

Sunny craned her head back to look at him, “What is it.”

He squinted, “Hold on, I can’t- wait a HYPNOTIST hell yeah! I love those guys. Come on lets go before all the seats are taken.”

“What is a hypnotist?” Sunny wondered, but received only a pat on the muzzle.

“You shall see.”

She blinked shaking her beak in mild confusion. Krill inflated his helium pouch and allowed Sunny to drag him through the crowd. A few of the other humans followed along curiously as did Cannon.

Together they made their way to a row of benches and took their seats. Sunny looked on stage to find a well dressed man in a suit, standing in front of a line of chairs. He didn’t look particularly special, but who was she to judge. He glanced around at the crowd for a few more minutes hollering for people to come in. Once the crowd was filled up, an assistant pressed a button at the back of the stage, and a sudden flash of blue light surrounded them before fading away to a dim shimmer.

The sound field left the interior quite silent, and the man cleared his throat taking a sip of water, “That can’t be good for my voice.” before smiling and clapping his hands together, “let's get started, how many of you know what a hypnotist is?”

Most of the humans raised their hands.

He glanced around the crowd, “Well that was to be expected, for those of you inhuman visitors, a hypnotist is someone who is trained to bring other people to a state of, what should be best explained as, deep state of concentration and suggestibility. We have used hypnotism for thousands of years in psychological treatment, relaxation techniques, and certain types of medical procedures. However, I’ll have you know now that it is STILL one of the most controversial techniques in both the psychological and physiological medical fields, however, I’m not a doctor, I am an entertainer, so we shouldn’t have any issues here today.”

He looked around the crowd, “Let me get rid of a few common misconceptions about hypnotism. First of all, if you don’t want to be hypnotized you CANNOT be. There has never, ever been a case of someone who was hypnotized against their will. This as to be something you are willing to participate in because most of the work is done by the subject, and not me. You CHOOSE to allow me to do my work, the second misconceptions is that, once you are hypnotized, you will not be persuaded to do anything against your moral code, like murder, or injuring someone, unless you are that kind of person anyway, and in that case it isn’t my fault that you’re a terrible person.”

The crowd chuckled.

“So no one will be dropping any deep dark secrets on us that they wouldn’t already tell us anyway. Last of all, if you are a human you have 100%, for sure, been in a state similar to hypnosis before. Daydreaming, meditation, driving home and then realizing when you got home that you cannot remember driving home, all those states are, in essence a form of self hypnosis, so what I am going to do here, is, I am going to give you a bit of a test, and then pick those of you who seem good subjects to be part of my demonstration. If you do not want to be hypnotized than don’t do the test, simple as that. I invite our inhuman friends to try too because I would find it very interesting to see what the results are.”

He motioned towards his assistant, who fiddled for a moment with a speaker before the soft eerie sci-fi music began, “Don’t look at me like that, we are on a moon circling a gas giant, so I can choose whatever weird music I want….. Alright, now those of you who want to try this, can I have you stand up,there we go, some aliens too, that’s good.”

Sunny glanced to her left and right. On her left Adam had taken to his feet, but that wasn’t surprising. On her other side, rill was looking on skeptically. Her brother Cannon had chosen to stand. Sunny herself was content to simply watch and see what would happen.

“Alright, everyone ready? Good…. Now those of you who want to participate I will ask to close your eyes, and when you close your eyes, I want you to hold your hands out in front of you, your right palm facing down and your left palm facing up. Now on your right hand, I want you to imagine that you have a string tied around your wrist, and on that string is a balloon, those things in the fair that are really colorful and filled with helium for those of you who don’t know. Now as you hold your hand there, the balloon gets bigger and bigger, and as it gets bigger and bigger, its filled with more helium, and as it is filled with more and more helium, it pulls you hnd higher towards the sky. Your hand grows lighter and lighter. Your arm is being pulled towards the sky higher and higher making your arm feel lighter and lighter.”

Sunny watched in general amusement as the participants right hands began to raise slowly towards the sky. Over to her right, Krill would have rolled his eyes if he could. The man continued to speak his voice retaining a distinct cadence repeating and then continuing to repeat the same instructions, and as he did hands raised towards the air. A couple of people peaked towards their counterparts sitting down once they realized it wasn’t going to work on them.

“Now in your right hand I want you to imagine you are holding a weight, and every second I keep talking the weight grows heavier and heavier dragging your hand towards the ground. Heavier and heavier the weight gets while lighter and lighter the balloon gets.” The man continued to speak as he stepped down into the crowd glancing around at the subjects. He made a few people sit back down , examined another and then came around their side of the room stopping at Adam, who, to sunny’s amusement, probably wouldn't have raised his arm any higher or dropped his arm any lower.

He looked pretty dumb.

The man paused at his side, placed a hand on his shoulder, and began to whisper something in his ear. Sunny and Krill couldn’t hear it from where they were sitting, but then the man reached up and tapped Adam on the forehead.

“Sleep.”

The crowd gasped.

The humans laughed.

He collapsed like a wet bag of sand s if his spine had suddenly vanished, knees buckling and sagging forward face first. Sunny lunged to catch him, but the hypnotist had already caught him grunting slightly under Adam’s dead weight.

Krill leaped to his feet in shocked horror stepping forward to help, but the man held up a hand, “It’s alright.” he grunted under the dead weight, “here, do you mind?” Before she could say anything, the man had turfed Adam’s corpse? Onto her lap. He sagged towards the floor, and she caught him, holding him in place with all four of her arms as his arm dangled towards the floor.

Krill reached over and felt for his pulse.

“What the hell.” He muttered

“What/” Sunny whispered to him

The Vrul held up an appendage for a second counting internally, “His pulse….. 45 bpm.”

“Isn’t that….. A sleeping heart rate?” She wondered unsure.”

Krill nodded. Off to their left another human slumped into her seat. This went on until about 12 people had been incapacitated. Adam was still not moving.

The hypnotist took a stand back on stage, “Alright now I am going to count back from three, and once I count back from three, those who are asleep are going to wake up, and then I’m going to ask them to come up on stage. When I count back from three and say wake up they are going to wake up and then come up on stage…. three …. two ... one …. Wake up.”

Adam stirred, lifting his head groggily from Sunny’s lap blinking owlishly around looking almost confused.

“Please welcome our volunteers to the stage everyone. Sunny nuged Adam to his feet, and, almost drunkenly he plodded up the isle and onto the stairs. By the time he had taken a seat in one of the chairs he APPEARED to be awake bright eyed and looking around at his neighbors as they introduced themselves.

Sunny wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it.

The hypnotist walked down the line pausing near the woman who sat Next to Adam, “What is your name Ms?”

“Jessie.”

“Ok Jessie, tell me, do you think you are hypnotized?”

She nervously shuffled her feet, “Um, no, I don’t think so?”

“Well don’t ask me, I don't know.” He turned to Adam, “Can you raise your arm for me, Sir, yes right there.” He then reached out a hand to the woman, “Well it was nice to meet you Jessie.” With a sharp tug he pulled on her arm, “Sleep!” She collapsed head first onto Adam, who looked a little more than surprised. The hypnotist moved his arm to keep hold of her, “Hold his for me will ya.”

Adam looked horribly uncomfortable as the man went down the line asking others their names and then causing them to collapse onto each other “Asleep.”

He eventually made his way back to Adam, “Comfortable there?”

Adam shrugged, “Um…. not sure.”

“Not sure, well why don’t you tell me your name.” He had reached out to take Adam’s hand.

“Adam.”

“Alright, Adam, are you hypnotized?”

“Er…. I don’t know>”

“If you had to guess?”

“Um…. Yes?” he looked pretty confused, and sort of nervous despite the fact he was smiling.

“And what do you do for a living.” The handshake was getting really long and awkward.

“I captain a spaceship.”

“Wow, thas a new one. Well Adam, do me a favor, and why don’t you look in the crowd, and focus right there on your blue friend, yeah the shiny top of her head right there, and Sleep.” He jerked his hand forward, and Adam collapsed over the top of the first human one arm dangling towards the ground. The crowd giggled.

Krill still looked quite skeptical.

The man spent the next few minutes repeating his instructions to relax repeating, “And as you go deeper and deeper into this state of relaxation, you will feel your muscles relax, the muscles in your face, the muscles in your arms, the muscles in your back, all deep and relaxed and limp, relaxed and limp, loose relaxed and limp.”

The crowd burst into a fit of giggling as Adam and his neighbor slipped onto the floor. Adam’s mouth was wide open lying flat on his back crumbled in a heap.

The hypnotist paused behind them and chuckled, “This always happens, can never keep them in their chairs, now, I know some of you out there are probably skeptical.” He looked pointedly at Krill, “Im looking at you spider legs, I can spot a skeptic a mile off. Now I know what you must be thinking, if he CAN”T hypnotize people against their will than it isn’t real, they are just pretending, but no; what you don’t understand is, I am not doing this, they are doing it to themselves, and they are using me as an excuse to do it. Think about it, wouldn’t you want to be this relaxed. What I have done is convinced THEM that they can make themselves relax.” He reached down picked up Adam’s arm and dropped it, and like a wet noodle it flopped back onto the floor, “You can’t just fake relaxation like that. These people really have convinced themselves, through my suggestion that they can do this, and that they should do it. They have DECIDED to follow my instructions.”

There was a murmuring from the crowd, and Sunny turned to find that, her brother, Cannon had fallen to the floor supposedly unconscious. The hypnotist raised his head, “Do we have another one….. Oh look at that, he’s not human.” More muttering as he stepped off stage, walked over and woke Cannon up, “Do you want to come on stage with us.”

Cannon paused and then drunkenly nodded his big head. Sunny found it greatly amusing as the tiny human led her 9 foot brother onto the stage, “Here, just sit down right her big guy till I figure out what to do with you…..” He glanced at the crowd, “happens to me every time. Someone in the crowd always gets it,” He tapped Cannon on the head, “Sleep.” he hit the stage with a loud echoing thud, but otherwise looked rather peaceful.

The man did a few more demonstrations with rigidity as opposed to relaxation, explaining the entire time what he was doing so the crowd could follow along with his intentions, “Oh now when I count back from three you are all going to wake up, and you are going to feel relaxed and fresh, and great, but when you wake up you are going to see the most beautiful person you have ever seen, guys girls, girls guys doesn't matter, he or she is the perfect specimen, drop dead gorgeous, you would do anything to impress this person. Three two one… awake.”

Sunny couldn’t help being amused at the sight of ten humans doing their best to impress an imaginary hot person. One guy stood up and began posing like a model, the women twirl their hair around their fingers, one woman even adjusted her chest. The crowd giggled. Her brother Cannon didn’t seem interested, and probably wouldn’t, not after the death of his made, so he just looked on quietly approving following some unknown Drev back and forth across the stage.

Adam on the other and, went red, shuffled his feet, and promptly crawled over e back of his chair to hide.

The crowd howled with laughter.

“Hey, hey Adam, where are you going.” Adam did not show his head. The hypnotist went back behind the chairs, “What are you doing back here.”

“Pretty girl.” Came the muttered answer.

“Well don’t you want to impress her.”

“No…. yes…..no.”

“Well why not. Come on you fly a spaceship, how could she not be impressed.”

A loud whisper this time, “What if she sees me.”

The hypnotist had to stifle a giggle, “Well that’s alright if you want to stay here that's alright, I’ll Come get you when the coast is clear.” He stepped out from behind the chairs. Sunny wasn’t entirely sure if she should laugh hysterically or feel bad for him. The other members of the crew were giggling madly from the side.

Krill had at least accepted he was stuck here at this point, and so looked on at the antics with mild amusement.

“Ok ok, the hot person is gone now, you can all return to your seats.” Adam moved a bit shamefaced from behind his chair and took a seat. “Alright, here is an easy one, the hot person is gone but all of a sudden you are going to realize that I am suddenly very very naked, and not only am I horribly naked, but I am also about 100 years old.”

The expressions of disgust, embarrassment and avoidant eye contact was greatly amusing.

“Um…. sir, sir.”

The hypnotist turned to Adam, who had stood from his seat.

“yes , Adam.”

“Um…. you’re not…. Wearing anything.” With one hand he offered up the cape he had bought earlier, “You should put this on.”

The crowd laughed, the hypnotist turned to look at them, “Such a kind your man.”

“Sleep.”

The entire group collapsed back into their seats, and in some cases, onto their seats and then onto the floor.

Sunny found herself chirping madly with glee and amusement. Whether it was real or not was beside the point, the humans were doing goofy things He had one human convinced he was fighting ninjas, another that she had forgotten her name, a third that she was the world's premier prima ballerina.

He walked up to Adam’s sleeping form, “The person whose shoulder I am touching and only the person whose shoulder I am touching, when you wake up you are going to realize that you do not speak English at all, hear that you do not speak English at all, three two one wake.”

Adam lifted his head.

“What’s your name.”

The human made a strange hissing and humming noise at him.

The crowd murdered in surprise. They hadn’t exactly expected him to start speaking fluent Vrul either. The hypnotist looked on in surprise and reached up to switch on his translator, “Oh I see, you don’t speak English…. Ha ... isn't that interesting. What would happen if you couldn't speak Vrul either.”

He tried, and when Adam began speaking again, Sunny was stunned. The noises he was making were deep and guttural originating from inside his belly and chest. It used a lot of grunting gurgling, clicking and hissing far deeper than the human’s usual voice…..

He hadn’t told her he was learning how to speak Drev…

“Alright when you all wake up, you realize that I have something you really want, and in order to get something that you really want, you are going to have to bring me a gift, the best gift you can think up.”

What followed was probably the funniest thing Sunny had ever seen. It was pretty tame at first, a few of the humans simply pulled out money, some gave him the things they had purchased at the fair. Cannon walked into the crowd, grabbed one of the crew members and brought him up confused and laughing to sand on stage.

“What is this?”

“Gift.” Cannon grunted

Howling laughter.

“What am I going to do with this?” The hypnotist wondered trying to hold back a laugh.

“Good mechanic.” Cannon grunted patting the human on the head, who was nearly doubled over laughing.

Another human came up on stage holding his baby.

Sunny was pretty sure some of the humans were crying now, “What the hell is this!”

“My firstborn son.”

“What do I have that you would trade your firstborn son for?” the hypnotist choked.

The human stood confused holding the baby for a moment, “Um…. second born son.”

Sunny lost it.

Trying to keep a straight face, the man turned to Adam, only to find he was proffering his own leg, the prosthetic one obviously. “Can I have my friends back now?” He wondered

The man looked down confused, “Aright Mr. Unexpectedly wholesome, back to your seats everyone.”

By the end, Sunny’s sides hurt, even krill looked like he was having a good time. The man had convinced them they were all naked which was amusing to watch. Many hid themselves, a few made themselves comfortable, Adam looked resigned, Cannon was unaffected.

He did a few more things before time was up before convincing the humans they were awake and no longer susceptible to his hypnosis. Adam stumbled down from the stage looking a little confused. Sunny motioned him over.

“So, when were you going to tell me you could speak Drev?”

He groaned, “Shit, that was supposed to be a surprise.”

She just grinned, “It was pretty good.”

“Really?”

“Really…..” She smiled, “You should have seen yourself.”

He blushed, “Was it bad?”

“I almost peed myself. I’ll have to tell you about all the stupid things you did later.” She wrapped one arm around him, and he tried to escape but found the attempt useless.

Krill walked past, “Yes…. I should have to write a paper about this….. Still don’t entirely believe it, but a good paper.”

Adam sighed, “Oh great, now the entire galaxy is going to know about me being an idiot.”

Krill didn’t look up, “Don’t worry, they already know.”

“Thanks for that.”

#humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are weird #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

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artbyelana · 4 years ago

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Anselm Kiefer

ARTIST RESEARCH

https://gagosian.com/artists/anselm-kiefer/

“Anselm Kiefer’s monumental body of work represents a microcosm of collective memory, visually encapsulating a broad range of cultural, literary, and philosophical allusions—from the Old and New Testaments, Kabbalah mysticism, Norse mythology and Wagner’s Ring Cycle to the poetry of Ingeborg Bachmann and Paul Celan.” - Gagosian

Anselm Kiefer is a German artist who focuses mainly on painting and sculpture. His work is strongly influenced by the concepts of Kabbalah, the poems of Paul Celan and German history and the horror of the Holocaust. Anselm addresses taboo topics and argues with the past and controversial topics.

Anselm’s works can be confronting and blunt as he explores and unpacks his culture’s dark past and history. His large scale works create a confronting and overwhelming atmosphere to address the topics and subjects he works with.

“Born during the closing months of World War II, Kiefer reflects upon Germany’s post-war identity and history, grappling with the national mythology of the Third Reich. Fusing art and literature, painting and sculpture, Kiefer engages the complex events of history and the ancestral epics of life, death, and the cosmos.“ - Gagosian

Anselm uses a wide range of materials when creating his work, going from watercolours to using concrete, lead, burned books and tree roots. I like the idea of ‘painting’ with concrete. I think it reinforces the idea of solidness and especially when talking about the subjects he does, it acknowledges history and marks it in a permanent manner but also sheds light on it so it does not occur again. “By integrating, expanding, and regenerating imagery and techniques, he brings to light the importance of the sacred and spiritual, myth and memory.” - https://gagosian.com/artists/anselm-kiefer/

^ The sheer size of these sculptures and being in the presence of something so huge would be an experience in itself. I like how Anselm really pushes the limits of his creations and materials he uses.

^ I think this work is really interesting. If I was seeing this in person I would feel quite enveloped in the ‘reality’ of this painting, it’s almost like a portal.

^ It doesn’t look like a whole lot but for me, I think it would feel very overwhelmed looking at this sculpture. I think it would evoke a lot of emotions for me, especially as I’m German myself.

^ This painting is very dark and intense, but I think it’s important to sometimes have confronting art and art that’s hard to look at.

^ I like this work. I think it’s overwhelming and intense for some reason but I like how blunt it is? It’s ambiguous but I still think that the work holds quite a lot of value? I feel as if it has a lot of importance.

^ ‘Margarethe’ (oil and straw on canvas)

“Themes from Nazi rule are particularly reflected in his work; for instance, the painting Margarethe (oil and straw on canvas) was inspired by Celan's well-known poem "Todesfuge" ("Death Fugue").” - Wikipedia

Todesfuge - ‘Death Fugue’

English translation

Paul Celan - 1920-1970

Black milk of morning we drink you evenings we drink you at noon and mornings we drink you at night we drink and we drink A man lives in the house he plays with the snakes he writes he writes when it darkens to Deutschland your golden hair Margarete he writes and steps in front of his house and the stars glisten and he whistles his dogs to come he whistles his jews to appear let a grave be dug in the earth he commands us play up for the dance

Black milk of dawn we drink you at night we drink you mornings and noontime we drink you evenings we drink and we drink A man lives in the house he plays with the snakes he writes he writes when it turns dark to Deutschland your golden hair Margarete Your ashen hair Shulamit we dig a grave in the air there one lies at ease

He calls jab deeper into the earth you there and you other men sing and play he grabs the gun in his belt he draws it his eyes are blue jab deeper your spades you there and you other men continue to play for the dance

Black milk of dawn we drink you at night we drink you at noon we drink you evenings we drink you and drink a man lives in the house your golden hair Margarete your ashen hair Shulamit he plays with the snakes

He calls out play death more sweetly death is a master from Deutschland he calls scrape those fiddles more darkly then as smoke you’ll rise in the air then you’ll have a grave in the clouds there you’ll lie at ease

Black milk of dawn we drink you at night we drink you at noon death is a master from Deutschland we drink you evenings and mornings we drink and drink death is a master from Deutschland his eye is blue he strikes you with lead bullets his aim is true a man lives in the house your golden hair Margarete he sets his dogs on us he gifts us a grave in the air he plays with the snakes and dreams death is a master from Deutschland

your golden hair Margarete your ashen hair Shulamit

^ Experiencing this would be almost like you were in the painting. It’s so large that it would feel like another reality I think. It would transport you into the realm of the image.

^ I like the colours and textures in this work. It’s quite ambiguous but still evokes emotion for me.

^ Show’s how large his works are in comparison to the human body. Experiencing these in person would be very overwhelming and emotional I think, It would be a very moving experience.

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theliterateape · 4 years ago

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Six Fictional Characters I Aspire to Resemble in Practice

by Don Hall

When I was nine years old I wanted to be like Kwai Chang Caine from the television series Kung Fu. Caine was stoic. He travelled the West in search of his half brother and along the way, every week, helped people he met with his mix of quiet focus and badass martial arts mastery. He had amazing decorative scars on his forearms from his training.

I was nine so my takeaway was less the Taoist focus and more on the roundhouse kicks. Just north of the housing project we lived in was another housing project that had been mostly built and abandoned so I would go there after school and pretend the bad guys in my head were the sections of drywall erected and kick and punch holes like I was him. I think I believed I could absorb the techniques of ancient Chinese secrets through watching him kick ass. What the fuck did I know? I was nine.

Secondary to my ascension as Shaolin Monk in the Old West was my lack of genuine male role models. I had my mom (not male), my grandfather (WWII veteran, retired oil rigger, darkly hysterical), and a stepfather who was vain and violent (mostly to my mom but almost as frequently to me). I looked to the idiot box and movie theater for examples in the absence of real world guidance.

No longer in thrall with the kung fu I never mastered, I still find inspiration from characters in popular culture who provide aspirational qualities.

Ted Lasso

A fairly recent addition, Jason Sudeikis’s over-the-top optimist soccer coach left me feeling hopeful. The character seems, at first, to be so cheerful and oblivious that he is easily written off as one-note. As the first season unfolds it becomes apparent that his optimism is rooted in a belief that people are basically good because to believe otherwise is to acquiesce to the void of despair.

He is his own ray of sunshine and simply refuses to give in to cynicism.

Samwise Gamgee

He’s not the smartest hobbit in the Shire. He’s not the most capable. He’s not well-travelled and his daily wants are as simple as he is but when the fucking rubber meets the road, he is the bravest of all of them.

Samwise is that avatar of what genuine friendship looks like. He is solid like bedrock and understands in a fundamental way that what he lacks in grace or wit is balanced by his indefatigable tenacity to keep putting one hairy foot in front of the other no matter the cost.

Every character aside from Gandalf fiddles with giving up the quest but not Sam. His belief in goodness, in ordinary pleasures, in the joys of living, prevent him from even flirting with the idea of laying down.

Spock

I always loved Star Trek but I didn’t really understand Spock until a few years ago. I’ve always been more of Kirk — emotional, headstrong, impulsive, risky. Along that path I came to realize that a lot of my greatest achievements came from that approach but an equal amount of my worst mistakes could be attributed to it as well.

Then came a self-imposed Trek marathon. I watched dozens of the original series and, for the first time, I understood why Spock was so important. Spock was thoughtful, stoic, and logical. His approach was from rationality although his character is from a race so emotionally charged that they built an entire culture around the compartmentalization of emotions.

I’ll always be Kirk but I want to be more like Spock.

Bugs Bunny

It is the balls out anarchy of Bugs that inspires. Everything is funny, nothing is sacred.

Society is so filled with anxiety and outrage that actively refusing to take most of it seriously is almost a necessity for staying away from nibbling at your toes and mumbling conspiracy theories under your breath behind a Dunkin’ dumpster.

When in doubt, find the funny and laugh in the face of despair.

Jules Winfield

No, I don’t want emulate this Sam Jackson/Quentin Tarantino creation’s hit man skills. I find a certain solace in his ability to examine his life and truly see who he is and decide to make changes.

“See, now I’m thinking: maybe it means you’re the evil man. And I’m the righteous man. And Mr. 9mm here… he’s the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could mean you’re the righteous man and I’m the shepherd and it’s the world that’s evil and selfish. And I’d like that. But that shit ain’t the truth. The truth is you’re the weak. And I’m the tyranny of evil men. But I’m tryin’, Ringo. I’m tryin’ real hard to be the shepherd.”

Rocky Balboa

I love Rocky Balboa. I love the story, spanning over eight films. I love his propensity to take a punch and still get up, no matter what. I love the fact that the goal so often in his arc is not about winning but about going the distance.

Rocky is self deprecating, self reflective, and can always find that extra gas in the tank when things get tough. Most important, Rocky is unashamed of his abiding love for the people in his life.

I think stories are there to teach us as well as entertain. The lessons we choose to learn from our own experiences are invaluable (Fail as many times in life as you can and learn from the failures). The beauty of the billions of stories available to us in books, television, and film is that each of us can walk for a moment in the shoes of characters living lives we will never experience and gain some understanding in those journeys.

#inspiration #ted lasso #samwise gamgee #spock #bugs bunny #jules winfield #rocky balboa #kung fu

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